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This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100 The Closet Chapter 1: The Closet Hey, hi! Just a super short humorous drabble inspired by a Tumblr text post. Enjoy! Clarke's eyes fluttered closed as she lay with Lexa's arms wrapped around her tightly. Lexa's warm body pressed against her own. Lexa softly glided her fingers along Clarke's bare arm as she watched her fall asleep. "Clarke! I'm home!" Abby called as she walked through the front door. "Clarke, are you home?" Clarke's eyes snapped open as she jerked awake. "Oh my god! Oh my god! My mom is home, shit!" Clarke practically jumped from the bed, leaving the warmth of Lexa's arms. "Oh my god, shit, you have to hide!" Clarke panicked. Lexa, who was still lying in the bed, gave her an "Are you serious?" look. "Where do you want me to hide, Clarke? Perhaps under the bed or in the closet?" Lexa asked sarcastically. "Clarke?" They heard Abby call again as she began walking up the stairs leading to Clarke's bedroom. "Shit, please, she is coming!" Clarke pleaded, opening her closet. "You have to be kidding me!" Lexa looked at her as if she was crazy. "Please, Lexa," Clarke pulled at Lexa's arm, dragging her from the bed. She tossed a shirt at Lexa as she hurriedly pushed her into her closet. "I am going to kill you!" Lexa growled as she was roughly shoved into the closet by Clarke. "Clarke, are you in there?" Abby asked, almost outside Clarke's door. Clarke mouthed "sorry" as she closed the doors on Lexa. "Ah, yeah, Mom, hold on," Clarke called back to Abby, but before she could do anything else, Abby opened the door. "Oh my god, Mom!" Clarke shouted, grabbing the sheet from her bed and holding it in front of her bare body. "Clarke, why are you naked?" Abby asked with a perplexed expression. "Eh...mm..." Clarke stuttered, trying to think of a reasonable explanation that didn't involve the brunette currently half-naked in her closet. "I have nothing to wear!" Clarke exclaimed, not very convincingly. As soon as she said it, she knew it was a terrible explanation. She could have just said she was getting changed. Abby quirked an eyebrow at her daughter, looking less than convinced. "How is it that you have nothing to wear?" Abby asked skeptically. "Didn't you and Raven just go clothes shopping last week?" she questioned. "I ah, yeah, but they are all dirty," Clarke couldn't stop her eyes flicking nervously to her closet as she held her sheet around her tighter. Abby noticed her nervous gaze and moved closer to the closet. "Are you sure? You can't have gone through all your clothes already, Clarke; you only did laundry two days ago." "Yeah, weird," Clarke choked out, beginning to sweat nervously. "I'm sure you have something, Clarke; you just need to have a better look," Abby reached out and opened the left door of Clarke's closet. Clarke stood frozen in sheer horror, unable to do anything except pray that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Lexa, hearing Abby come closer, shuffled as best she could to the right side of the closet, behind some of Clarke's shirts and a few pairs of jeans. After four years out of the closet, she couldn't believe she was now hiding from her girlfriend's mother in one. "One shirt, two shirts," Abby said, giving Clarke an incredulous look as she counted the shirts in Clarke's closet. As Abby slid the second shirt to the side, Lexa came into view; she looked mortified. "Hello, Lexa, three shirts," Abby greeted, not looking at all surprised, as she continued to count. Clarke's blue eyes widened, not believing what was actually happening. "I don't know what you are talking about, Clarke; you have plenty to wear," Abby turned to Clarke, smirking. "I...I...I can explain," Clarke stuttered, really having no idea how she was going to explain. Abby turned her attention away from her blushing daughter to Lexa, who was still standing awkwardly among Clarke's clothing. "Come out of the closet, Lexa," Abby coaxed her out. "I already have," Lexa muttered, shooting Clarke an annoyed glare as she stepped out of Clarke's closet. Abby tossed a shirt and pair of jeans in Clarke's direction. "I am disappointed in you, Clarke," Abby scolded. "I thought I taught you better than this." Abby frowned, crossing her arms as she looked between Clarke and Lexa. Clarke's mouth gaped in shock; her mother had met Lexa a few times, but she hadn't told her mother she was dating Lexa yet, not because she thought her mother wouldn't approve, but she just wasn't ready to share the news yet. Before she could defend herself, Abby spoke again. "You don't go shoving nice girls like Lexa into closets, Clarke! Really, it isn't polite; she deserves to be treated better! I thought you would know that." Abby shook her head disapprovingly. "Ah, what?" Clarke shook her head in confusion. Lexa let out a stifled laugh at Clarke's expression. "You're not mad at me because I'm dating a girl; you're mad at me because I hid her in my closet?" Clarke asked, utterly confused. Abby just nodded as she made her way out of Clarke's room. "I expect to see you two properly dressed and down for dinner in an hour," Abby informed them as she left. "Did that just happen?" Clarke asked incredulously. Lexa finally burst out laughing. "I guess you're out of the closet now too!" Lexa giggled.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100 The Elevator Chapter 1: The Elevator (Clarke's POV) Here I was, walking into my apartment building in my pink scrubs, mascara smeared, and hair in a messy ponytail. After a long, tiring day at the hospital, all I wanted to do was sink into my couch, eat ice cream, and watch Netflix until the night faded away. I grabbed my mail and stepped into the elevator. I pushed the button, glad that the day was just about over. But, as it often does, my luck intervened. Just before the door closed, a voice yelled, "Hold the door!" So, I put my foot in the door to hold it as the tall, dark-haired man stepped in. I recognized him as my neighbor, Bellamy Blake. He and I never got along particularly well, but we were nice to each other, so I said, "Good evening." And he nodded in response. The doors closed, and as we waited for them to open again, I read my mail in the back corner. I noticed that he had probably just gotten back from a run. As he glanced at me, I quickly looked back down at my paper, but I did catch his classic smug grin. I brushed it off, thinking to myself, "Halfway to Ben & Jerry's; I can do it." However, because my life seems to have a knack for taking unexpected turns, exactly three floors from my level, the elevator stopped abruptly. It made me almost fall down, and I let out a sound of surprise. Bellamy immediately pushed the emergency button. It beeped, and a woman's voice came over the little speaker, saying, "What is your problem?" Bellamy responded, "The elevator stopped, and the doors won't open." The woman replied, "Well, honey, it looks like there are some technical problems. But don't worry, we will get our mechanic on it, okay?" Bellamy, getting upset, asked, "Okay, but how long do you think it will take?" The woman responded, "Well, I hate to say it, but probably a couple of hours." He grunted, then said, "Fine," and went to sit down in the other corner. Time went by slowly. It was about ten minutes since the elevator stopped. Bellamy was grumbling as he did something on his phone. After a short time, I slowly sat down next to him. I finally said something, "So, Bellamy." He looked at me, giving me his full attention, and said, "What?" I asked, "Well, I guess we are stuck here for a while, huh?" with a smile. He responded with a scoff, "Huh. Yeah, you could say that." I smiled for a second, and then asked, "So, did you just get back from a run?" He said, "Yeah," looking at me confused, and then asked, "So, Clarke, you look like you just got back from a long shift at the hospital. Am I right?" with his signature smirk. I replied, "Yeah," with a soft smile. He said, "You look tired," with a concerned tone. I said, "Yeah, I am," and began digging through my purse. (Bellamy's POV) She looked drained. We've been neighbors for going on five years. I've seen her at her worst, like when that jerk Finn Collins cheated on her, and when he tried to break into her apartment. He would have succeeded if I hadn't been about to leave my apartment and seen him. I stepped out, asked him what he thought he was doing, and he told me to leave it alone. But I knew the story - Octavia had told me, and she's best friends with Clarke, so she was there for her. I told him he should leave, or I would have to take action. He said, "Buzz off," but I grabbed him by his shirt collar and belt and guided him out of the building. Clarke finally said, "Are you all right?" I asked, "Yeah, just the usual, you know." She pulled out a deck of cards and asked, "Do you want to play?" I nodded in response. We played cards for what seemed like twenty minutes before I asked, "So, Princess, what have you been doing recently?" She replied, "You know, same old." What she said was simple, but the way she said it, I knew something was off. I looked at her for a minute, then I grabbed her hand and said as softly as I could, "Clarke, look at me. I will tell no one. Tell me what is going on." She looked at me for a second, then finally said, "Oh, Bellamy, it's Finn. I never told Octavia the worst part." She looked crushed, a small amount of tears spilling out. I urged her, "Tell me." She continued, "He lied to me. He was already dating someone. He made me the other woman." I was so angry; all I wanted to do was beat that little bastard to a pulp. But I had to help her. I said, "Oh, Clarke," and pulled her into a hug. After a minute of her crying, I stood up, helping her up, and hugged her again, saying, "I am so sorry, Princess. He is a dipshit to do that to you." She pulled away from the hug and looked at me for a second, then said, "Thank you. You've always been there for me," with a smile. I replied, "Anytime," with a smile of my own. Then, she put her hand around my neck, pulling me into a kiss. I was stunned for a minute, and then I put my arms around her waist, moving my hands up into her hair as she ran her fingers through mine. The kiss was hot and passionate, but also soft and sweet. We held it for what seemed like only a minute, and then the elevator started moving. We broke apart, grabbed our bags, and stared at each other for a second, smiling. Then the door opened, and we went to our respective doors, opened them, and retreated to our apartments for the night.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100 Treetop Chapter 1: Treetop TREETOP "God, you're so tall. I feel like a monkey climbing a tree every time I kiss you," Octavia said as she pulled away from Charmaine, coming down from being up on her tippy toes in order to reach the other woman. Charmaine raised an eyebrow doubtfully. "Dramatic much, O?" "I'm just saying," Octavia huffed. "Would it kill you to just bend forward a little bit every once in a while instead of me having to stretch all the time?" "Now, where's the fun in that?" Charmaine teased with a smirk. "You want my kisses so badly? Come and get them then." "Yeah, because kissing me is such a drag for you," Octavia scoffed. Still, all of those little attentions didn't stop Octavia from bickering every once in a while about the disparity in their need for physical displays of affection. An utterly ridiculous and pointless fight that they had had multiple times already, but Octavia still liked to pick it up from time to time. "You want a kiss?" Charmaine asked. "Yes," Octavia said, her tone annoyed, borderline pissed off. She pushed herself up on her toes as usual and met the woman in the middle. Fingertips wandered down her sides and down her butt cheeks, lightly grazing her skin through her clothes and leaving a trail of shivers behind them. Then, two big hands firmly grabbed the back of her thighs. Next thing Octavia knew, she was scooped up into Charmaine's arms like she weighed nothing. Despite knowing exactly how sturdy and strong her wife was, witnessing it firsthand never failed to tickle the want that lived deep inside her lower belly. A nose bumped into her cheek as Charmaine's tongue confidently skimmed her lower lip. Octavia lost little time in opening her mouth. Tongues eagerly converged towards one another, and the smallest of moans escaped the back of Octavia's throat when Charmaine pulled her into a deep, languorous kiss. Her legs tightened their grip around her midsection, and hands landed where the Colonel's neck met her shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer, which was a telltale sign that Charmaine was hitting all the right spots. Octavia felt Charmaine moving them around, but she was so lost in the kiss that she didn't wish to open her eyes to see where they were heading. Nor did she really care. Charmaine could carry her pretty much anywhere as long as she kept on kissing her like that. Seconds later, her butt landed delicately onto a hard surface that she immediately identified as the kitchen counter. It resulted in Octavia's being artificially taller than the other woman, a fact that pleased her to no end. Out of breath, Octavia reluctantly pulled away. She leaned her forehead against Charmaine's, relishing in the feeling of having her so close. Octavia's cheeks were flushed, her usually bright green eyes were fogged with desire, her lips were slightly swollen, and her breath was heavy, from the kissing or from lust, Charmaine didn't know. Probably both. She looked radiant. Octavia tilted her head forward, trying to pull the Colonel into another kiss, but Charmaine backed away. She let out a laugh at the confused yet offended look Octavia gave her. "See, that's why I don't kiss you," Charmaine said lovingly as she cupped her jaw, her thumb slowly caressing her warm cheek back and forth. "Because then you can't get enough, and you want more, and you end up frustrated for the rest of the day when we don't have time." "That's because you don't peck-kiss me," Octavia replied as she leaned into the touch. "You kiss-kiss me." Charmaine rolled her eyes. "I'm not ever going to just peck you. I'm always going to kiss you senseless and leave you breathless. Pecking is for boring straight people and people who don't feel passionate about their spouse anymore. The day I peck you is the day you can divorce me." She dropped her hand and stood straighter so she could get a better look at her wife and be more comfortable. "So Big Bad Charmaine Diyoza does have feelings," Octavia teased softly with a smirk. "Oh, I have plenty of them," Charmaine said. "Mainly anger, rage, annoyance, resentment, irritation, fury, boredom, madness -" "Okay, I think I get it, babe," Octavia laughed. "You may be a little rough around the edges, but underneath all that tough badass façade you put up lies the most loving and caring woman I've ever met." "Well, yeah, I'm not a monster," Charmaine huffed. "I have proper manners and basic respect. I may be a sarcastic asshole most of the time, but I'll be damned if I give the people I love anything less than what they deserve, which is the world." Charmaine's tone was firm and determined, and there was a tenderness to her words though. "Owww, I'm part of the people you love," the brunette said cheerfully in a high-pitched voice, a warm feeling settling comfortably in the pit of her stomach. "We're married, dumbass," she snorted. "Still, you love me," she teased with a proud smile. "Yeah, suddenly wondering why," Charmaine smiled teasingly. "Hey!" Octavia gave her a jab in the right shoulder in indignation.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100 Until We Meet Again *Chapter 1: Until We Meet Again* Here she was, looking up at the face of the woman she had fallen for. Her weakness, her light, her other half. It was odd; she thought she would be in more physical pain than this. She was the Commander of the Twelve Clans, no stranger to pain itself, but all she could feel was the soul-crushing sadness when she looked into Clarke's eyes. *I'll be her Costia,* she thought fleetingly, as her vision started to tunnel. *Costia... I'll get to see her again. And Anya. Gustus...* She could feel her breath slowing down, and her heart lurched when she saw the tears falling down Clarke's face. "I don't want the next commander, I want you…." *And I you. But my fight is over. May we meet again, Clarke.* When she opened her eyes, Clarke was gone, and she was lying in a grassy clearing with the sun shining down on her face, making her squint with its intensity. She tentatively rolled over to one side and placed a hand over where she had gotten shot. Pulling her fingers away and seeing no blood, she slowly stood up. *Where am I?* "You're dead, Lexa, what does it look like?" The deadpan comment made her grin, and she turned around to see Anya. "What a horrible way to die, too. There's no honor in dying like that. Trust me, I should know." Overcome with genuine happiness to see her old friend and mentor, Lexa rushed forward to embrace Anya. "Anya, it's so good to see you again." She blinked for a second, processing the rest of the older woman's words. "What do you mean you know what it's like to die like this?" "Clarke…" her breath hitched as she realized she wouldn't ever be able to see her again. "So, you finally fell for the Sky Princess, did you? Costia, Gustus, and I had a running bet going to see how long it would take for you two to finally get it on." Anya looked frustrated, but her frown quickly faded when she saw Lexa sink to her knees. "Hey, hey, it's okay." "It's not okay, Anya, I finally, *finally* felt like I was getting somewhere with her, and then…" Anya knelt down next to her and rubbed soothing circles on her back to calm her down. "Look, I'm not going to say that your relationship was the best, but believe me when I say we saw everything. And that girl really loves you." Lexa pinched the bridge of her nose. "*Loved* me, Anya. I'm dead, remember?" She pointed to a pinpoint of light in the distance that was steadily growing brighter. Lexa followed her finger and, upon seeing the light, felt an unexplainable urge to walk toward it. "What's that?" "That is your ticket out of here. You have a choice, little one. You can stay here, and know that you're free from your duties as a commander. You'll come with me and see Costia and Gustus again, maybe get to throw another spear in the Ice Queen's chest – well played, by the way. We watched that fight, and Costia couldn't bear to watch." "Or?" "Or you walk toward that light and back into the arms of a certain blonde. You might still be the commander, or you might not. Honestly, I wouldn't know. Time passes differently here." She crossed her arms. "That light won't be shining forever, though. You better pick." Lexa was torn. There was no question that ever since she had met Clarke, her world had slowly but surely collapsed around her. And yet, there was some part of her that couldn't bear not seeing her face. She lived for the days the blonde smiled at her and died on the days she didn't. And the sex… "I think you've already made up your mind, little one. Go on, it's okay. We'll still be here when your time really does come." Smiling tearfully, she hugged Anya one last time, breathing in her scent and memorizing every touch. "May we meet again." "May we meet again. Just do all of us a favor, though, and try not to die for a while yet. We have another bet running, and I'll be damned if I lose to Gustus again." "Shut up, Anya." As she walked toward the light in front of her, she could feel the pain starting to seep slowly back into her body, but she pressed onward until all she could see was white. "Mom, did it work? Please, please tell me that you brought her back." The blinding light faded again, and all she could feel was a stabbing pain in her gut. She resisted the urge to start swearing and instead settled for a groan. "Oh my god, oh my god, Lexa?" Lexa almost teared up again upon hearing her name fall from her lover's lips. "Clarke?" Any other response she could have said was literally stolen from her as she felt a crushing weight settle on her chest. She let out a small chuckle, immediately regretting it when her stomach seized up. "Clarke, ouch. I should've known. There's a reason you're called Wanheda, isn't there?" Clarke's eyes widened in fear as she immediately let go of the Commander, tears now falling freely down her face. "Your fight's not over until I say it is, Commander." Anya sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, muttering something under her breath that Lexa could barely make out. From what she was able to understand, she would need to have a talk with Clarke. "Clarke…" her breath hitched as she realized she wouldn't ever be able to see her again.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100 Vidcon Struggles Chapter 1: Vidcon Struggles Murphy wasn't sure when he had run out of water during his panel with Bellamy at Vidcon. The large audience made him nervous, and he would take a sip to get out of talking about something. They had to have been there for 45 minutes already, right? The whole time, Bellamy had carried the whole conversation, and Murphy just sat next to him, his eyes looking him over in admiration. Platonically, of course. The volunteer staff gave them the five-minute signal, and Bellamy finally wrapped up what he was saying. Murphy sighed in relief, sitting back in his chair. "We can take a few questions if anyone has any?" Bellamy asked, his voice sweet as honey. Frantic hands shot into the air as several girls in the audience shifted to the edge of their seats, uneasily eager. Another staff member chose one of the audience members with her hand up and placed a microphone in front of her mouth. "How did you two get started?" the girl squeaked nervously. "I got started with a stupid idea and I posted it on the internet just because. I never thought it would blow up like this. Never. I was really surprised that so many people just enjoyed watching videos of me making a fool of myself, and to be able to do that every day... it's a good feeling," Bellamy laughed. His smile was intoxicating as it spread to Murphy's face. Bellamy turned to him, awaiting his answer, and Murphy struggled to pull himself together. "Oh... um... well, I-I guess I was one of those jerks that just had a camera and an idea and nothing else better to do. I figured, sure, why not. I got nothing else going for me," Murphy laughed nervously. Bellamy's eyebrows creased sympathetically, wishing he had gone second to cheer up Murphy's depressing start. Murphy chewed on the inside of his mouth as he retreated. "How did you two meet?" another fan asked as the microphone was shoved in his face. Murphy turned to Bellamy, eyes wide and begging for help. "Well, last year at Vidcon – I don't know if some of you were here for it – but Murphy and I were at this panel because our videos both revolved around video games, right? I had never met the guy before, never heard of him, and he comes and sits down next to me and introduces himself. And then, once we get the panel going, the more I listened to what his videos were about, the more I wanted to be a part of that. The more I got to know him, the more I thought, 'I need this guy in my life more.' So, afterwards, we went out and we talked it over, and that's pretty much how we met. That's how we started working together and how we started our friendship," Bellamy answered. "How touching, right?" Murphy chuckled into his microphone. Bellamy looked at him and laughed. "Yeah, yeah, it was," Bellamy smiled. "I think we have time for one more question," Murphy turned back to the audience, blushing. The staff member running around with the microphone found the last lucky audience member. "Are you two dating yet?" the girl laughed into the microphone, half-joking. Bellamy's face immediately turned red. "No," he responded a little too hastily. The audience began to giggle and whisper in excitement, and Murphy shrank in his seat, heat rising up his neck and burning into his cheeks. "Thank you, everyone, for coming!" Bellamy snapped and stood up abruptly, nearly knocking back the chair. Murphy looked up at him as he began to storm out of the panel room and quickly gathered his things to chase after him. The audience began to stand, flooding toward the doors. Bellamy raced them out of the building, going across the sun-beaten walkway that led from the convention center to the hotel. Murphy was on his tail, ignoring the adoring fans that recognized him a moment too late as he disappeared through the turnstile doors and into the hotel. "Bellamy, wait up!" Murphy called after him, running out of breath. Bellamy aggressively pushed the button for the elevator and slipped inside, Murphy easing in after him. "What the hell was that all about?" Murphy panted. "I don't want to talk about it," Bellamy blushed. "Bellamy, if something's wrong–" "I said I don't want to talk about it, Murphy!" Bellamy shouted, pushing Murphy away from him. Murphy hit the wall of the elevator, and the doors slid open. Bellamy burst out into the hallway, and Murphy dragged along behind, dejected. Bellamy dug through his pants pockets for the hotel room key and fished it out. "Bellamy... do you like me? Is that why you're so bothered?" Murphy asked, a sly, satisfied smile growing across his face. "Shut the hell up and get inside," Bellamy swung open the door and pushed Murphy into their hotel room. Murphy turned to look at Bellamy as the door slammed behind him and was taken quite off guard as Bellamy pushed his lips against his in an aggressive, yet passionate embrace. His arms wrapped around Murphy's waist, and Murphy's hands nervously made their way up Bellamy's muscular chest. Bellamy began to back him up toward the bed until the two awkwardly fell back onto it, smiling and laughing. "Well, I guess that answered that question."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100 Welcome Home Chapter 1: Welcome Home They had offered to go back. They might have regretted it later, but Clarke and Bellamy willingly volunteered to go back to the dropship to scavenge supplies they had stored away before the first battle. Abby and Marcus couldn't spare any guards, and Clarke had left supplies and things in medbay. Bellamy had offered to be her "protector," although he told her later that she was accident-prone, so he just had to come with her. The trek didn't take long. With Anya, Clarke had taken 15 minutes at most to get to Camp Jaha, but it was a leisurely stroll with Bellamy next to her. They were sure to take careful steps so they wouldn't trip. The shock when they got there was immense. Beautiful flowers and grass had started to grow in the ashes of charred tents and dead bodies. Little tree sprouts were budding in the wake of a disaster. "Wow," Clarke breathed out, taking small, unsure steps towards the dropship, as if not wanting to harm the innocent beauty with her damaged, heavy feet. The sound of Bellamy's feet crunching behind her made her aware of her surroundings again. Suddenly, she was angry at herself. Her faint steps turned into heavy stomps as she made her way into the old medbay, and she picked up a box to go through. Instantly, Bellamy noticed the change in her mood. "You alright there, Princess?" He said, less of a question and more of a statement. He knew her well enough to know when she had had a nightmare the night before and when she was only grumpy because she had been depriving herself of food, and he knew why the air changed around her so suddenly right then. He was thinking the same thing. This had been her home, their home. They had built a life here with their bare hands. Their first memories of Earth were at this spot. Their dead were buried here. And they had burnt it to the ground, along with some of their friends and 300 warriors. "We were responsible for this place," Clarke said in a hoarse voice while sorting through the bin of objects. "And we destroyed it." Her hands, still in the bin, started becoming more violent, rummaging through loudly, and throwing things to the side. "Clarke," his voice cut in. She didn't stop. "Clarke!" His voice became louder and more urgent. "Princess, stop!" She whirled around, and the tears were already coming. Her hands suddenly grasped at his shirt and curls, clawing his back and then coming to rest on his sides. Her face met his warm chest, and his strong arms enveloped her. Clarke didn't know how long they stood like that. She lifted her head and mumbled, "It was never much, but we tried, Bellamy. We made the most of it." "Shhh, I know, Princess. I know," he stroked her soft hair, a smile toying at his lips. "How about I grab everything from in here, and you go check on Wells, okay?" Clarke gave Bellamy a grateful smile and a kiss on the cheek before she left. When Wells died, Clarke visited the grave site every day. It had become a part of her normal routine, something Bellamy understood and didn't nag her for. He got it. But Clarke hadn't seen the graves in over four months. She felt extremely guilty about it. After all, she blamed herself for Wells' death. She had hated him for over a year, and when they finally came to speaking terms again, she ditched him because she was too tired, so he took up night watch. He ended up with a knife in his neck and two fingers missing. She thought that maybe if they decided to hang out, he and Charlotte would still be alive, and- "Bellamy!" Clarke yelled without thinking. He was by her side in less than 30 seconds. "What's wrong, Clarke? Did something happen, or- holy shit." His eyes maneuvered over to where Clarke's finger was mentally leading him. "Is that-" "Yeah, it is," Clarke couldn't even believe her eyes. "And it's fucking beautiful." She stepped closer in amazement. "Must be a gift from God," Bellamy breathed out. He grabbed Clarke's hand and pulled her over. She took his hand in hers and slowly brought it up to touch the pink blossoms. "Did you know that these trees were a gift from the Mayor of Tokyo City in 1912 and given to the U.S.?" He noticed Clarke's mesmerized gaze and blushed. "Sorry." "No, I'm just surprised at your knowledge of history," her hand brushed his cheek. "It's amazing, actually." She caressed his freckled face. His gaze switched from her face, to her hand, to something behind her. "Hey, would you look at that," he nodded his head to where he was looking. "Must be another gift from the man up above." She turned around and smiled when she saw what he was talking about. "Wow, the cherry blossoms are right above Wells' grave," her brows crinkled. "He didn't deserve to die so soon." Her joyful mood became sorrowful again. "None of these people did," his arm came around her shoulder, and he hugged her close. They just gazed out at all of the graves for a moment, taking in the beauty of something so dreadful. "I don't know how we let this place go, Bell. It was our home." "Well, welcome home, Princess. We can stay as long as you'd like," they watched the sunset as they found warmth in each other.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100 Winter Is Coming Chapter 1: Winter Is Coming "Holy shit, it's cold!" Clarke exclaimed, trying incredibly hard not to fidget on top of her horse. He was a mild-mannered and gentle horse, but even he could reach his limits with his rider moving around too much. "I told you to dress warmly," Lexa stated from her own horse beside Clarke. "And I thought I did!" Clarke replied. "You underestimated just how cold the Ice Nation can be. And it will only continue to get colder the farther we ride," Lexa said. Clarke cursed under her breath and rubbed her freezing hands together before bringing them to her mouth and blowing hot air on them. Her teeth chattered, and she shivered once more. The simple furs she wore were no match for the frigid temperatures. Their last trip into Ice Nation territory had been a couple of months ago when they had defeated Queen Nia, and though it had been cold then, it was nothing compared to now. Sometimes Clarke really hated the ground and its ever-changing climate. One of the only things she missed about the Ark floating in space was the constant temperature it had been kept at. "Why didn't you tell me to dress warmer when you saw what I was wearing?" she complained. Lexa quirked an eyebrow and leveled her with a look. "Would you really have listened?" she asked. Clarke opened her mouth, about to utter a snarky retort, but thought better of it. She clamped her mouth shut once more and grumbled to herself, because as much as she didn't want to admit it just then, Lexa was right. She would have been too stubborn for her own good and refused any more furs offered to her out of pride. Now, however, she really wished that wasn't the case. The pair rode in silence for several minutes, the only noises coming from behind them as Trikru and Skaikru guards talked amongst each other to fill the time. The mixed group was on their way to the Ice Nation capital to observe the official coronation of a new monarch. Kane and Abby were having a conversation between themselves, while Octavia and Lincoln, whose kill order had been lifted a long time ago, were riding just behind Indra. All were bundled up in many layers of clothes with fur sewn into them and wore fur-lined gloves—an item Clarke had actually forgotten to even think about packing for the journey. God, Clarke, I thought you had more sense than this, she thought to herself. Even Indra's wrapped up in a blanket! Suddenly, Lexa held up a hand and called everyone to a halt. "Commander?" Indra questioned, her eyes darting around their surroundings, looking for a danger she or the guards may have missed. Lexa ignored her general and turned to Clarke. "Dismount your horse and get on mine," she said. "What?" Clarke asked, her eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. "We will ride the rest of the way together, Clarke," Lexa explained. "You are cold, and this will warm you up." Clarke didn't want to look too eager at the suggestion, but she was pretty sure she failed when she nearly fell from her own saddle trying to get off, and she heard Octavia stifle her laughter. Her fingers were like ice, and it made it hard to grasp onto things. "Dell!" the Commander called out, summoning a guard. He trotted over to her instantly. "Heda," he replied. "Put Wanheda's horse on a lead rein with yours," Lexa instructed. "Sha, Heda," the man replied before performing his given task. Lexa scooted back some in the saddle and held out a hand to Clarke. When the blonde took it, she pulled her up to sit in front of her. Reaching behind her into a large saddlebag, she retrieved a fur blanket and enveloped them both in it. "Hold onto it so it does not slip off," she told Clarke. Her arms settled on either side of her companion as she held onto the reins and nudged her horse to walk forward once more. Clarke, grateful for the sudden warmth engulfing her, snuggled back into Lexa, her body heat feeling like paradise for the freezing Sky girl. She laid her head on the shoulder behind her and turned it so that her face was partially buried in Lexa's neck. The brunette jumped when Clarke's icy nose came into contact with her sensitive skin, but she did not tell her to move, instead gathering the reins in one hand and winding her now-free arm around Clarke's stomach. That was where her affection ended for now. She was Heda, after all, and she could only afford to show so much sentiment in public. But she was allowed to have this. She was allowed to have the girl she loved huddle close for warmth, fully confident that the trusted guards becoming witness to this wouldn't speak a word of it to anyone. "Hey, Lexa," Clarke whispered, her mouth incredibly close to her ear. She hummed in response. "Did you purposefully not give me this blanket that was in your saddlebag just so you would have an excuse to cuddle with me on top of your horse?" Clarke asked. The light crimson flush spreading across her cheeks and burning the tips of her ears had absolutely nothing to do with the arctic air blowing around. She cleared her throat and said, "Of course not, Clarke. Don't be ridiculous. I'd merely forgotten it was in there until just now." "Mmhm," Clarke replied. "It's okay. You just wanted to cuddle with me, you big soft Commander." Lexa frowned. "I am not soft," she said. Clarke subtly laid a chaste kiss on Lexa's neck, smirking when she heard her breath hitch. "You so are," she said.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100 Wounds Chapter 1: Wounds I am writing Clexa for the second time. I am definitely not good at writing death and angst, but here it is. This story is based on a prompt sent via Tumblr (nxriamartin). Remember, you can message me with prompts and ideas. Clarke had spent weeks in the woods, living off berries and dead animals. She was still not used to hunting, so she took the leftovers that the Grounders who roamed around the area had left behind. They were in search of someone, a Heda, but not just any Heda - the Wanheda. Whoever that was, they were being hunted by every clan. Clarke waited, seeing the small group walk away. "Idiots," she thought. After climbing down the tree, she started walking in the opposite direction. Maybe she could meet with Niylah if she found another animal to capture. Her trips to meet the woman were becoming frequent. She wandered through the forest for another hour, and then another. It was almost sunset when she found someone lying on the ground. "Lexa?" she questioned, seeing her face, the dark makeup smudged. She was about to kneel next to her when she remembered: this was the girl who betrayed her, the girl who betrayed her people. Lexa was not a friend. "You," Clarke said. "Claire?" the other questioned, looking at her with surprise as she stood up abruptly, ignoring her bleeding leg. She straightened her back and kept her head high, staring in awe at Clarke's red hair, so wild and unlike her own. "What are you doing here, Wanheda?" she spoke with dignity, making sure her weight was all on her good leg. She did not want Clarke to see the wound, not now. "What?" the girl questioned, puzzled by the word. Did Lexa just call her... "Wanheda?" Clarke asked. "Yes, Wanheda. The Commander of Death," Lexa replied. "I am Wanheda," Clarke stated. "Yes. I heard you left the Skikru," Lexa said. "Yes," Clarke replied. "Because?" Lexa asked. "Because I am Wanheda," Clarke quickly replied. They both knew what Clarke was implying with that answer - how many people she had had to murder for that title. They both knew the exact number. They both knew they weren't meant to see each other. They both knew the other hated them, so why fake it? Because they were both Hedas, that's why - Commanders, leaders. They had many things to say to each other. "You're hurt," Clarke said, her eyes looking down and studying Lexa's leg. The limp was obvious, but Lexa couldn't let Clarke notice it. She was the commander, she was not weak. She did not need anyone to take care of her. "It's nothing," Lexa said. "You can't walk, can you? Where's Indra?" Clarke asked. "Not here," Lexa replied. "Sit down, I'm going to take a look at it," Clarke said. "No," Lexa refused. "Heda," Clarke said with all the sarcasm she could, crossing her arms, "you can't come back to your clan with a wound. Don't want another war to start because your ego is larger than Earth itself and your people think the Skikru hurt their commander." As if Clarke's words were a slap on the commander's face, Lexa sat down on a trunk and took off her boot. The wound was extremely deep; Lexa was sure she had some muscles cut in half. She had had worse injuries. "It is nothing," Lexa said. "You have a deep wound, Lexa," Clarke spoke, starting to get nervous as she cut out the pieces of fabric that covered Lexa's leg. They were soaked in blood. "For all we know, you could be bleeding out to death," Clarke said. "We?" Lexa asked. "I. For all I know, you could be bleeding to death," Clarke corrected herself, annoyed by her own mistake. Lexa smirked, then groaned in pain when Clarke's fingers started inspecting the wound. "Lexa, how the hell can you even walk like this?! You could lose a leg if we don't do anything quickly. Lie down," Clarke ordered. "Careful!" Lexa warned. Clarke turned around just in time to see an arrow pass by her head. Forgetting about the commander, she took her knife and ran towards the Grounder. If they were coming for her, she had to do something before he told his clan about her location. He was about to take out his knife when Clarke stabbed him in the chest, multiple times, making sure blood spilled from the wounds. He would bleed out in less than a minute, and she would not have to worry about him anymore. "Lexa, are you—" Clarke spoke, turning around to see that the commander was gone. Or at least it seemed like it, because Clarke could hear her panting. "Lexa!" she ran towards her, noticing her body on the ground. The arrow was pierced above her heart. "No, no, shit, no," Clarke exclaimed. "Cl—Clarke," Lexa whispered. "It's okay, it's okay, I'll take the arrow and—" Clarke started to say. "Aarrgh!" Lexa screamed, feeling the arrow being pulled from her body and dropped on the floor. And suddenly, more blood. Lexa knew that between her leg and her chest, she would bleed out fast soon. "Cl—Clarke, please," she said, trying to stop the other from rushing to her old backpack. "N—No." "Lexa, what on the Ark are you doing? I need something to stop the bleeding," Clarke said. "Let me die," Lexa said. "What?! No!" Clarke refused. "Let me die, please," Lexa repeated. "No—Why—No!" Clarke exclaimed. "I've done awful things, Clarke. I—I betrayed you. I have murdered people too. There needs to be a new Heda," Lexa explained, her voice starting to fail. She was feeling worse and worse by the second, and she knew she didn't have long. She already felt her eyes heavy. "M—May we meet again," she managed to say, her eyes finally closing. "Float you, Commander Lexa," Clarke spoke, slapping Lexa's eyes open. "You are not dying today."
This is a fanfic story. Genre: originals Chapter 1 I'm doing the 100 Theme Challenge to get through writer's block and such. I have a decent number of characters I'd like to practice with and a randomizer to pair them up for whatever shenanigans I can come up with. As these themes tend to go, it's starting out with 'Introduction'. While I could have been lazy and just submitted a personal introduction, I decided to do a quick drabble introducing some of my characters. The first is Catrina, the wannabe neko, second is Gad, my oversized simpleton, and lastly is Sani, my oversexed genie. To be asked to go on the streets in the middle of New York, thirty-five minutes before midnight of the last day of December, was not ideal. Jade Stone, which wasn't a stage name for an aspiring reporter but actually the result of some 'witty' parents, stood grimly beside a lamppost. A microphone in hand and her 'favorite' bulky cameraman, Broen, behind her, Jade wasn't pleased in the least. The streets were mayhem – full of loud, mostly drunk tourists, overly pushy vendors, and snow that became black slush hardly a second after reaching the cement. The short Asian hardly stood a chance in a crowd like this, and while she was happy to get some time onscreen, she really had to wonder about the intelligence of her boss to even think she could manage. She drew in a lengthy sigh, "Come on, Broen. Let's get this started." The woman glanced over at her cameraman, wondering if the muscleman could act as some kind of bodyguard to prevent her from being dragged around. But Broen's sour look and bright red nose told her he would probably encourage the opportunity to get back into the office for a hot cup of coffee. She couldn't blame him. Jade turned back to the crowd and hesitantly made her cautious way through it. She only had to provide some filler interviews – grab random, average-looking people and ask them some mundane questions. Provoke a few hollers, throw a fat-faced toddler into the camera to slur out a few lines, and she would be done. But, at 4'7”, she was having trouble getting a look at anyone's faces to determine who were the crazies and who could be proper filler material. Broen's camera jabbed into her back with a few meaningless apologies, obviously irate at her pause. She made a face and threw her hand out at the closest person to her, snatching up their arm and dragging them back. "Hello! I'm Jade Stone for CKTA News! Can you answer a few questions for us?" She greeted in a rush, already motioning for Broen to get his camera on before the girl could protest. The female looked young – probably in her late teens, with wide, brown eyes. She nodded at the pair after breaking from her confusion, a wide smile spreading on thin lips at the sight of the camera's light blinking on. Good! It looked like they had a camera hog to work with! "Well, well, of course – that would be purrfect! What do you need to know, kitten?" The girl spoke in a low tone, rolling her Rs and staring with a near predatory look at Jade. She shifted uncomfortably, but buried that unpleasant feeling quickly in favor of maintaining her peppy look. "What's your name?" "Catrina B. Murrow, merow!" Did she just meow? "Oh! Murrow – any relation to the reporter?" The one on their rival station? Broen gave her a look between amusement and exasperation – yeah, probably not the best thing to bring up. She rushed on, "Are you a resident of New York?" "Mjau! Yes! My big brother is the famous reporter – on channel—!" "Haha! CATRINA, WAS IT?" Jade broke in with a rush and grinned toothily at the girl, "Those are some cat ears, Catrina! Where did you buy them?" Catrina's eyes narrowed considerably as she pursed her lips, "I didn't buy them. I was born with them." She hissed out and snatched the microphone from Jade, quickly turning to the camera. "I'm looking for a doctor to perform a species-change operation – if you know anyone, mau, then call me at 555-98-!" Her voice was cut off with a mewl of surprise as Jade broke from her stupor and gave a hard push at the girl, grabbing her microphone back. Ugh! Did she have to get a crazy person her first try?! She started to march away with a motion for an obviously entertained Broen to follow her – when a hand grabbed the collar of her coat. She squawked as she was pulled back to look at the entertained, but frowning expression of Catrina. She felt something drop and she quickly struggled to get back to Broen, only stilling when a voice purred into her ear. "A little mouse taunting a cat, mm?" Crazy and scary – oh, lord, she hoped the camera was off. She twisted her head around to try to find Broen, so he could maybe help her get away from the creepy cat lady, but the tall man was nowhere to be found. She almost felt like crying – this always happened to her! No matter what, she always got stuck with the worst jobs! There was that Sonata family who nearly drove her insane, that restaurant with the chef who constantly threatened to knife her, and now this stupid reporter gig..! She sniffed as tears started to swell in her eyes, provoking a purred chuckle from the cat. "Don't cry, little mouse, I'm – ACK!" Jade was suddenly released, turning around in a moronic moment to look at Catrina hiss and spit at Broen. The girl was clawing at the cameraman's arm, snatching back the headband that kept her fake cat ears on her head from the man's hand. Broen rolled his eyes and tossed them aside, Catrina immediately dashing out into the crowd to find them with a few unpleasant words spat back at the man. Broen looked at Jade. "You were in a crowd." Jade creased her brow at him as she wiped the tears from her eyes, taking out a pocket mirror to make sure her makeup wasn't running. "..So?" She mumbled out, attempting to sound agitated though she was more relieved than anything. Her makeup was fine, and crazy cat girl was nowhere to be found. "You could have called for help." The man went on to point out as he leaned down to heft his camera back up, moving past a now embarrassed Jade. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" She said with a frown as she pocketed her mirror again, following after him. "Yes, it does." She ignored him, really not wanting to discuss her stupidity with a sour-faced coworker right then. Instead, she walked ahead of him in search of someone else to interview. Obviously, crazy cat lady wasn't going to be aired, so they needed someone else to replace her as soon as possible. Before she could find anyone, though, she heard the voice of her coworker start up again. She quickened her pace with a huff – since when did Broen become so adamant on a conversation? He was always the quiet, big guy in the office, not some socialite concerned for his coworker's well-being. "A-AH!" The sudden shout wasn't hers – it was the tall, tall man she had just walked into. She bounced back from him, widening her eyes in shock as she had to turn her head completely up to look at the trembling guy in near tears at the sudden contact. He must have been at least two feet taller than her! Her mouth was agape as the fearful man brought his hands to his mouth and sputtered out a string of apologies. "I-I'm – ah, uh, I'm sorry, so sorry, I didn't.. I wasn't – I, oh, GOD, are you okay? I'm sorry! I am, I am! Don't hurt me, please, please, don't hurt me – I-I--" He suddenly stopped speaking in his raspy voice, his eyes widening to an impossible size. "..Why aren't you talking? Y-You're – oh, God, oh, God, did I kill you? Are you dead? I'm a murderer – Gad's a murderer, and he's going to go to jail – a filthy, f-filthy jail full of disease and horrible, scary people!" A flood of tears fell down his cheeks, and he sniffed loudly, breaking Jade from her stupor, "No! No, wait, no! I'm alive!" She shouted up at him, believing he wouldn't be able to hear her any other way. The giant stopped and looked at her, a large smile breaking onto his face. "Y-you're alive!" He repeated cheerfully, eyes sparkling with joy rather than tears now. "I.. I-I so happy, I.. I.. I'm sorry!" She gave him a strange look – sorry? For what? But, remembering his early panic, she really didn't want to encourage this man to speak again. Instead, Jade sent a look back at Broen inquiringly, who returned it with a shake of his head...Yeah, she didn't think this would be a good candidate either. She smiled at the tall man as nicely as she could manage, "Er, so, sorry for bumping into you, but--" "N-no!" He said quickly, lifting his large hands up and shaking his head, "D-don't be sorry, that w-was Gad's fault." "Right, sorry – I mean, er." She cleared her throat, "I'm just going to go. Nice meeting you, Gad." Those common words brought a scarlet blush to the man's face, and he nodded quickly, muttering something unintelligible to himself. She couldn't help but smile herself at the pleased look on the other's face, but she had a job to do! She slowly left the man to stand alone in the crowd, finding an oddly displeased Broen to accompany her through the crowd. She didn't bother to ask him what was wrong – especially when she saw what looked to be a normal boy in the crowd! Blue, long hair, green eyes, average height, and chatting happily away to some man who was presumably her boyfriend. A completely normal couple that would make perfect fodder for the public! She hurried forward, praying she could catch up with them – but a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. She froze – Oh, God, please don't let it be the cat girl. She was about to take up Broen's logic of earlier and call for help from the many passerby – but a male voice spoke to her. "Hey, babe – what's a cutie like you wandering the streets alone for?" That certainly didn't sound like Broen. She pried off his arms and turned around to look at a short teenage boy, grinning cockily at her. He was dressed flamboyantly – a black and pink striped jacket, several silver earrings in his ears, red, tight jeans, and a fedora resting on platinum blonde hair. His obvious flirtatious nature aside, he looked pretty normal, and considering her ideal couple were already absorbed into the crowd, she would just have to take this one. She held the microphone up at eye level, "Hi, I'm Jade Stone, and this is Broen.. "..What was his last name? Ah, it didn't matter! "..the cameraman. We're from--" As seemed the pattern with Jade, before she could finish her sentence, the boy's eyes lit up, and he broke in with an excited laugh. "DUDE! Is that a camera? OH, man! Am I being scouted out?! This is like a dream come true!" He flashed a white smile at the cameraman, "Broen, babe, I bet you've never recorded a hot stud like me before, yeah? Lucky day for us both." He winked and twisted around to look Jade up and down, "Not bad, not bad! You sure you can fit that, though?" He pointed to the microphone curiously, prompting a confused look to be shared between Jade and Broen. "Fit-- uh, what?" "That." The boy said with a short laugh, looking at Broen with a shrug, "They sure don't pick smart ones, do they? Smarts only get in the way, anyway." Now it was Broen's turn. "Uh, what?" "Ha! Boy, I guess everyone's dim here. But, again, doesn't matter." The teenager shrugged and slipped an arm around Jade, "Where's your van? Or is it a hotel? I can walk." Before Jade could think of shrugging the assertive boy off, Broen stepped forward and pulled her away with a frown. She shot him a look, and he shrugged before turning his attention onto the disappointed boy. The disappointment didn't last long, however, as he walked forward to put his arms around both of them. "Threesome? Oh, yeah, I'm in." He chirped cheerfully. That had definitely been more direct. Jade's face paled, and she forcefully pushed the boy away, the surprisingly light teenager tripping backwards to land in the snow and, by some luck, not into another person. He looked at the woman in confusion. "I am not going to sleep with a kid. Broen, co-" Not even phased by the fall, the teen was at his feet and already approaching the woman again, "I'm Sani, eighteen years old, and I'm cool with any fetish you have going for your company – please don't give up on me, babe, I won't do it again!" He said it with such speed it took a fair amount of time for it to register with either of the adults what he had just said. When it did, she felt like dying on the spot. Jade stuttered at Sani, who tilted his head and raised a brow at her. His blue eyes lifted up to Broen, who was in an equally aghast state. Some recognition clicked in the teen's eyes, and he let out a laugh, "Oooooooh. That – haha, seriously?" He managed out in between chuckles, stopping his words as Jade finally found hers. "Seriously? I... can't believe this." It wasn't much better than stuttering, though. She massaged her temples as she took Broen by the arm, "We're leaving. This.. no." She shook her head again, and not wanting to protest, Broen simply followed along, the two abandoning the amused boy. This entire trip was becoming way more hassle than Jade had thought possible, and she had half a mind to quit right then. Not just this task – her entire job. Maybe she shouldn't work and just get married like her mother said. She just wasn't cut out for work. She sighed in defeat and looked to her shivering coworker, who seemed just as exhausted as herself. She dropped the microphone and took his hand, "Let's get some coffee or something." If the station was telling the truth and they really were reporting live, then they were likely fired anyway. She may as well keep a friend from this job before returning home and sulking in her parents' basement.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 100-Things-to-Do-Before-High-School Crispo's Cousin Chapter 1: Crispo's Cousin My 100th story! I do not own, work for, or know anyone who owns or works for Nickelodeon or the show "100 Things to Do Before High School" in any way. Christian "Crispo" Powers had just woken up and was ready for his cousin to come by after school. He heard his mom call out to him by his given name, Christian. Only his family and a few teachers referred to him by his given name. It had been a while since Crispo had seen his cousin. During school, his friends noticed that Crispo seemed a little happier than usual. Crispo told his friends that his cousin was coming by after school and that he had not seen him for months. Crispo remembered when they were little, his cousin had gotten hit hard by someone skateboarding. Luckily, his cousin had only spent a few hours in the hospital. After what felt like forever, school finally ended. Once Crispo was walking out of school with his friends, he saw his cousin waving hello and started to walk towards him. As he was walking, he almost got hit by a bus. The cousin just smiled as he chuckled. The others were shocked that almost getting flattened did not faze the kid. Crispo just shook his head. "Guys, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Hudson," Crispo said. "Hi," Hudson said, and soon chuckled. After spending time with Crispo's friends, the two of them went back to Crispo's house. When they got there, they found out it was just the two of them. Crispo smiled at Hudson as Hudson just chuckled again. The two of them went into Crispo's room. Hudson soon closed the door and locked it. It had been a while since they had spent time together as cousins. The two came closer, and they just looked into each other's eyes. The two of them soon started making out. Their hands moved all over each other's bodies. Crispo started taking off Hudson's shirt. Hudson just chuckled as Crispo kissed his neck. Crispo soon kissed his way down and started to lick each of Hudson's nipples before sucking on one of them. Hudson quickly moaned and placed his hands on the back of Crispo's head. Crispo soon stopped sucking the nipple and moved on to the next one. Hudson moaned even more, and soon Crispo pushed Hudson down onto the bed. Now Hudson was on his back. Hudson soon pushed Crispo's head down. Crispo was now kissing and licking Hudson's chest. Crispo undid Hudson's pants and pulled them down, along with his boxers. Hudson was already hard, and Crispo just smiled as Hudson chuckled. Soon the chuckling stopped, and the moaning began again as Crispo sucked away on Hudson's dick. Crispo expertly sucked away as Hudson kept moaning. After a few bobs, Crispo stopped sucking Hudson's dick and started to lick Hudson's shaft a few times before sucking on Hudson's balls. Hudson just kept moaning louder and louder. Crispo soon started to suck Hudson's dick again. Hudson was quickly becoming on edge and started to face-fuck Crispo. Hudson was even more on edge, and soon enough, he shot his load into Crispo's mouth. Once Crispo slid Hudson's dick out of his mouth, the two of them made out again, with Hudson tasting his own cum. Crispo soon kissed his way back down until he was rimming Hudson. Hudson again moaned while he was being rimmed. Soon the rimming became fingering. First, one finger, then two, and soon four fingers. After a few thrusts, Crispo slid his fingers out of Hudson's ass and started making out again. Crispo was now sitting on his bed on his back, with Hudson on top. Hudson removed Crispo's shirt and started to suck on Crispo's neck. Crispo soon moaned and started to suck on one of Crispo's nipples. Crispo just moaned, and soon Hudson moved on to the other nipple. Crispo moaned even more. Crispo pushed Hudson's head down. Hudson soon kissed his way down and soon undid Crispo's pants. He soon pulled them down, along with his boxers. Hudson and Crispo smiled at each other before Hudson started to suck on Crispo's dick. Crispo moaned as Hudson sucked away. After a few bobs, Hudson stopped sucking and started to lick the shaft of Crispo's dick. Crispo just moaned even more, and soon Hudson was sucking on Crispo's balls. Crispo just placed his hands on the back of Hudson's head. Hudson soon started to suck Crispo's dick once again. Hudson soon was bobbing a little faster, and soon Crispo was face-fucking Hudson. Crispo was moaning even more and was on edge, and Crispo came into Hudson's mouth. Hudson soon swallowed every drop. The two of them soon made out as Crispo tasted his own cum. Hudson once again kissed his way down and now was rimming Crispo. Crispo just kept moaning, and soon Hudson was fingering Crispo. One finger became two, and soon four. After a while, Hudson pulled out and slipped his dick into Crispo's ass. Crispo moaned even more. Hudson really started to fuck away, even more. It did not take long for Hudson to be on edge. Hudson could no longer hold back and came in Crispo's ass. The two of them made out again. Once Hudson pulled out, Crispo slid his dick into Hudson's ass. Now Hudson was being fucked and enjoyed it. Crispo was fucking Hudson faster and harder until he came into Hudson's ass. The two made out again before passing out. I hope you enjoyed this story. Please let me know by leaving a review that's open to all, or PM me if you are a member. Not a member? It's free to join! Please feel free to read my other stories.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: buffy_angel Chapter 1 The wonderful Buffy characters belong to Joss. I'm 15, caught in between 10 and 20, and I'm just dreaming, counting the ways to where you are. Galway, 1753. It's too dark to see much of the street, but the light from the open door illuminates the pair as they are cast into the street. They are both drunk, unsteady on their feet, but his first thought, like always, is how to get back in. Steal his father's silver; strike another blow that the man probably wouldn't even be bothered to feel. I'm 22 for a moment; she feels better than ever, and we're on fire, making our way back from Mars. He sees her standing there and cannot help but follow her into the darkness of the alley. Offering to escort her and listening to what she offers with an almost broken desperation. Another world, it seems, far from all he knows, and he can't help but think it sounds like paradise. Then, the fire in his neck and down his throat as he sees her true face, and realizes that he may never see paradise, and doesn't he think he deserves that? But now, even as he fades, he realizes that he's no longer alone. 15... there's still time for you, time to buy, and time to lose. 15... there's never a wish better than this, when you've only got a hundred years to live. I'm 33 for a moment, still the man, but you see, I'm a they, a kid on the way, babe, a family on my mind. London, 1860. Killing the priest is easily done. It doesn't matter to him that he was a man of the cloth; no, actually, it made it kind of fun. He listens to Drusilla's fears and childlike reliance on her mother's will. He smirks as the plan falls into place. She was going to make a magnificent childe. The parallels between her faith and her future almost make him laugh. She worries now about her god; soon, he will take that position, and she will hail to him. The lord's plan indeed. Higher powers, anyway. I'm 45 for a moment, the sea is high, and I'm heading into crisis, chasing the years of my life. Rumanian Woods, 1898. He's running, not sure if it is a "too" or a "from." The suddenly, he has no choice; it grips him, tightening his heart and opening the windows in his eyes. The warmth from the fire seems suddenly far away as it comes streaming back. Faces, places, and crimes that he cannot yet comprehend, but fears he must. A voice laden with pain casts the first stones towards a wounded soul, and the hurting begins. The demon's clarity of recollection and creativity of evils make the movie in his head a nightmarish loop of terrors, the likes of which he wishes were still beyond his imagination. 15... there's still time for you, time to buy, and time to lose yourself within a morning star. He is sitting amongst the garbage of the alley, smelling worse than it does, to tell the truth. Another furry meal is getting away, like many more before it. His demon raging against what he has become. He thinks again of the sun and wonders if that alternative is not better than what he has now. Whistler looks down on him. Whistler knows what he is, knows the choice before him, and wishes that it didn't always have to be this way, wishes that for once they could fight for the light and still see the shades of grey. 15... I'm all right with you. 15... there's never a wish better than this, when you've only got a hundred years to live. Los Angeles, 1996. The car is enough protection to go out into the sun. He sees a world more brilliant than the one he left behind. Ultimately, though, this world is more naive; they no longer see the monsters that lurk in their darkness, and the work of the chosen is made that much more difficult. He's blinded by her light, but can still see her destiny fall upon her. Realizes that in that moment, the girl is dead, and wonders how long it will be before she ends up buried. Half-time goes by, suddenly, you're wise. Another blink of the eye, 67 is gone, the sun is getting high, we're moving on. He sees the disbelief and terror on her face as she stares into the face of a demon, terror that he reviled in as the Scourge of Europe. Watches her first kill, the first of many (he hopes), and sees a life less brilliant. Makes his choice, and as he takes the first step on the path, he feels a little of the humanity that has tortured but eluded him for so long falling back into place. I'm 99 for a moment, dying for just another moment, and I'm just dreaming, counting the ways to where you are. Sunnydale, 1997. He feels the surge of power, and the curse snaps the soul back inside. The dislocation is much the same as the first time, thoughts, feelings, faces, and places jumbled together. Then he opens his eyes and truly sees her. Sees the daisy print hair clip and lollypop, sees her in the cemeteries where she's fighting for her life and his, more than once, sees the pain in eyes he had come to love. And then he hears her voice, telling him to close his eyes, and he does; for the world is light again, and that is something he isn't sure he is ready to see. 15... there's still time for you. 22... I feel her too. 33... you're on your way, every day's a new day. The kiss reaches every part of him. He feels the pain, the love, the hurt, the feelings coursing through her, and he struggles to piece together how it came to this. 15... there's still time for you, time to buy, and time to choose. The sword sinks deep into his chest, and he feels the pull. He fights it, wants to stay with her, to understand what, and how, and why, but it pulls him away anyway. And then all he knows is pain. Hey, 15... there's never a wish better than this, when you've only got a hundred years to live. 100 Years, by Five for Fighting. I'm sorry this isn't very polished; it was just in my head this afternoon. Not really sure where this came from. Every time I listen to this song, I come up with a new meaning. Today, I guess it was Angel's.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: harry_potter Chapter 1: 101 Ways to Woo Hermione Granger I struggled with my muse for weeks, trying to write this challenge. After three half-written stories that I scrapped, I finally found a better idea that seemed fitting as a gift for Silveris. Her request was: dinner with the trio (may include Ron and Harry's girlfriends) and Draco, where single Draco and heartbroken Hermione are not on very good terms. Yet. Dealbreakers (absolute no-no's): old stuff such as candlelit dinner, seaside escapades, and rolling around in grassy fields. Ginny Weasley. To: The Weepy Granger From: The Nearly-Perfect Malfoy Re: Last Night Granger, Contrary to popular belief, we Malfoys are only human. I didn't mean to upset your plans of a ménage à trois last night at the restaurant. My only excuse is that when I saw you weeping on Potter's shoulder, it occurred to me that you are still deluded by the false impression that those two can actually help you. I would have thought you'd known better by now. Still, I guess there's no accounting for judgment during emotional times such as breakups. I vaguely remember the despair of our own. I'm offering my services, free of charge, of course, because I still owe you for that arse-saving hex you rescued me with during that fateful night. Based on the overflow of tears last night, I think we should meet someplace privately. How about the manor at 7:00 p.m.? Don't concern yourself with anything; it's all under control. Soon to be Yours Again, Draco To: The Coy Granger From: The Almighty Malfoy Re: Manners Granger, Bad form, you saucy wench. Your refusal is hereby declined. Bringing up past mistakes is beneath you. I won't hold it against you. And no, I will not role-play the naughty inquisitor for you, even if you were to ask nicely. What would I gain by asking you about that torrid love affair with a Muggle anyway? Be here tonight at 7:00 p.m. It's important. Your Slytherin Prince, Draco To: The Irksome Granger From: Ever-Patient Malfoy Re: Forgiveness Granger, Ignoring me won't work either. As you didn't show up last night, I've given strict orders to Attila. He's not to return until you attach a reply. And don't feed him any of those sausage bits you give to that mangy cat of yours, because he's on an all-beef diet. I'll not have him getting as fat as your feline. If you don't appear at the manor tonight, same hour as previously requested, I will be forced to Apparate into Muggle London. You know how I hate it there. They openly gawk at me. Come to Wiltshire. Ever-Truly Yours, Draco P.S. Stop sweet-talking Attila; he's been trained to ignore such tactics, ever since last year. To: The Wiley Granger From: The Perturbed, but still Magnificent Malfoy Re: Gall Granger, I had greatly underestimated you. It never occurred to me that you would actually post Potter out on your door stoop as a bodyguard. Really, was that necessary? After I made the effort of paying a friend a visit, I'm rejected, and treated like common folk. I'm starting to feel as if you're trying to avoid me. No matter, just attach a speedy reply, and all will be forgiven. Your Sugar Quill, Draco P.S. Potter took the flowers I had brought for you. Do you think he fancies me? I've been unsuccessfully trying to squelch that rumor for years now. To: The Artistic Granger From: The Omnipotent Malfoy Re: Lunch Granger, I am overwhelmed by your drawing skills. I never knew you were capable of such a masterpiece. True work of art. Although I did think the animation of the pigs flying was a bit over the top. The icy blue tones you used in depicting Muggle hell freezing over are captivating. Have you given thought to doing this professionally? It occurred to me that perhaps you may be swayed by ill-advisors against meeting me in the evening hours. I can't seem to escape the irrevocable reputation I have of wooing the female species, however, I will be sensitive to your concerns, and will reschedule our meeting for lunch. Tomorrow, half past noon, here at the manor. Or are you feeling threatened by territorial advantage? If so, we can make arrangements to meet at the restaurant of your choice. Your Flaxened Haired Glory, Draco To: The Stoically-Stubborn Granger From: The Long-Suffering Malfoy Re: Adding Insult to Injury Granger, You, of all people, should remember my powers of Occlumency. Therefore, it will come as no surprise to you that the Obliviate attempt you sent did not work. It was absurd of you to have tried it. However, I am thinking you've been tempted to use such desperate measures as a result of your recent heartbreak. Now stop with this nonsense. You know how irresistible it is to me when you use magick against me. But we really do need to talk. No hanky panky intended. Not yet, anyway. You've also totally destroyed Attila's diet. Shame on you. Now you owe it to me to meet tomorrow. I'll come by first thing in the morning. Your Sexy Soul Mate, Draco To: The Gracious Granger From: The Erotic Malfoy Re: Your Heart Granger, Even though it was through a closed door, it was wonderful speaking with you this morning. Did it bring back some fond memories for you? It must have stirred up something for you, since you posted the large black heart outside on your door with the red letters: LUV STNX. As I mentioned this morning, I will have you back by Valentine's Day. You're in denial, and that's understandable, after your recent history of breakups. However, keep in mind that the only reason I allowed you to break up with me last year was due to the fact that you lied to me, and tricked me into thinking you didn't love me. I know now that your concerns were foolishly based on our differences. You will be dealt with once you're back in my arms. I've already come up with some fitting methods of punishment. I'll be back promptly at 8:00 p.m. Shall I bring take out? Your Heart Throb, Draco To: The Humorous Granger From: The Mildly Entertained Malfoy Re: Dinner Table Granger, The table for one set outside on your sidewalk was so very heartwarming. I can't decide which was more affectionate, that or the box of Bittersweets. Imagine my surprise when I opened the candied hearts and read: Aim Lower, Up Your Meds, Not Again, and Static Cling. Only a few days left before Valentine's Day, and I'm not sure where we should plan to go. What about Barcelona? We'll discuss it this evening. I'll come calling at half past eight. It would appear you don't wish to dine with me, so I will plan on bringing dessert. Your Soon-To-Be Boy Toy, Draco To: The Beautifully Brilliant Granger From: The Majestic Malfoy Re: Flamenco Dancing Granger, Did you enjoy the travel brochures I left at your door last night? I would have brought them in, but your Patronus was quite convincing in warding me off your property. Are you comparing my kisses to those of a dementor? I'm not keen on the prison robes you had nailed to your door though. Perhaps it is because of family history, but I've no desire to add those to my wardrobe. The little note you had attached, U R My Prison, was alarming. Are you saying you're willing to be my sex slave now? I'm getting mixed signals here. By the way, when you shouted, "You love you," through the locked door, I was extremely touched. Remember my personal motto: "If you're attractive enough on the outside, people will forgive you for being irritating to the core." You know me better than I know myself. I do love me, but I love you more. Your Enamored, Draco P.S. If you're going to nail clothing onto your door, please make it a pair of your knickers next time. To: The Giving Granger From: The Marvelously Gifted Malfoy Re: Gifts Granger, Attila is finally working off the fatty sausage bits you've been feeding him. I've increased the letters to twice a day, strictly out of concern for his health. Two more days to Valentine's Day. I've taken care of lodging arrangements. You won't need to pack, because I don't plan on letting you out of the hotel room very often. Acceptance is not optional. You will make this trip with me. By the way, if you find yourself struggling with loneliness, you're not alone. And yet, you are alone. So very alone. So let me in tonight, when I come calling. I received a missive from that beastly-looking Weasley owl. "It's over man, let her go." The prat was always a failure. He has no motivation for overcoming challenges. That's probably why you dumped him back at Hogwarts. I sent an appropriate reply, although I hoped to save the Dragon Dung for a more compelling moment. Shame to waste it on that git. I cherish the mononucleosis plush doll you sent. I knew you still cared! I'm sending along a box of Malfoy's Mojo Mints. I affectionately recall your oral fixation. Until I'm able to be there myself, let these comfort you. Your Personal Sex God, Malfoy To: The Formally Known As Granger From: The Future Husband, Malfoy Re: Your Proposal Granger, You've made my day. No, make that my year! The matching martini glasses with "Malfoy Loves Malfoy" on it was so touching that I sent away and had eight more made so we can have a full set. After all, your name will soon be changed to Malfoy. I didn't want to rush you, since your recent breakup was still so fresh, but if you're that keen on it, we can be married in Barcelona. You have no idea how happy you've made me. Let's keep it private, because I know you won't want a big ceremonial wedding. I'll be by promptly at nine. Sorry so late, but there are many arrangements to be made for our trip! Your Eternal Companion, Draco P.S. Enclosed is a naughty photo I took this morning. And no, it has not been digitally enhanced. It's 100% Malfoy. To: The Goddess Granger From: The Sugar Daddy, Malfoy Re: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder Granger, (My Ying) Did something come up last night? I'm worried since there was no answer at your door. I waited for two hours before leaving. I'm sorry, but I had to get back to Wiltshire for some last-minute planning for tomorrow, our big day! I know you're nervous, but it's only natural. However, don't you think the Malfoy voodoo dolls were a bit much? I had to grin when I saw how you painstakingly applied red fingernail polish over the heart before sticking the pins in. Such a genius for detail. By the way, I've figured out your wards. Nothing will stop me tomorrow, Hermione. This has gone on long enough. I'd rather steal your heart than your body, but if it comes to that, I will cart you off over my shoulder. We are destined to be together, and nothing you say or do will sway me. I promise to give you the same kind of happiness you give me. (Minus the voodoo dolls). Tomorrow I will be touching you, holding you, kissing you, and loving you. And only you. Be Mine Forever. Your Yang, Draco P.S. Don't expect Attila tomorrow. I'll arrive personally first thing in the morning. To: The Gorgeous Granger From: The Besotted Malfoy Re: Barcelona Granger, My favorite place in the whole world is right here next to you. Watching your slow breaths as you sleep, rise and fall, captivates me. Your muscles in repose are beautiful, because the mere thought of them tensing again with desire excites me. The gentleness of your hands completely undo me. You are the very definition of passion. As our Jewish friends say, our love is b'shert. Don't bother getting dressed. I've gone for some fresh espresso and biscotti. Your Loving Husband, Draco P.S. Have I told you lately, that I love you? A/N: According to the Hebrew belief, the term b'shert refers to one's destiny, finding your one and only true soul mate.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 10th-Kingdom A Troll Story Chapter 1: A Troll Story Disclaimer: I do not own the 10th Kingdom (ha I wish). The characters and main storyline all belong to their respective owners. I only own my imagination. "First thing we'll do is cook the dog," Burly grinned. "You mean the prince," Bluebell gave his brother a perplexed look. "The prince is the dog, you nitwit," Burly retorted. Blabberwort watched excitedly as her younger brother conked her older brother over the head with his mace. The blow was hard enough to give Burly a gruesome bruise, without actually killing him. He screamed out in response and lunged at his little brother, before Bluebell had a chance to swing again. This amused Blabberwort immensely, and she began to snort uncontrollably at the sight of the two. She wondered who would win, certain that she was stronger than both. It had been a long day, what with capturing and then losing the witch from the Tenth Kingdom. Their father had given them each a hard thump on the skull for that mess, and she could feel the bruise forming. Now, the three were on their way to find the witch and the dog - their father had stressed the importance of the dog - and they had stopped, as per usual, mid-assignment. They were less than a mile away from their castle when a bolt of lightning swept the sky above them. The two fighting trolls stopped scuffling to watch the sky. It crackled with violet and gold, the clouds darkening more and more by the second. They all knew what it meant when the sky looked like that. The Beanstalk Forest lay to the north of their castle, in a state of constant storm and despair. Their land was never rained on, though, and it had been over a century since anything other than dirt rose from the ground. Seeing the sky ablaze with the coming tempest could only mean one thing: magic. Dark magic, from the look of things. Very powerful and very deadly. Only an evil witch would dare to perform such an affront on them. The lightning was vicious as it crashed to the ground nearby, settling on a troll in soldier's garb. The troll screamed uselessly and fell to the ground, a heap of charred bones and metal. Burly and Bluebell were up off the ground in a second, ready to run. They just didn't know where to go. Their father had given them strict orders to go after the dog, and every second they wasted, the witch would get farther away. But the sight of the dead troll made them want to retreat back to the safety of their castle walls. Hesitating on the brink of retreating, the trolls stood motionless as another wave of lightning took out a cart in front of the castle. "Suck an Elf!" Their father's voice echoed from the castle's door. Bluebell snickered in fear. Blabberwort and Burly shot each other exhausted looks. They wanted to make a run for the forest now, before their father got to them. It was bad enough that they hadn't captured the dog, but now someone was deliberately attacking their land, and they were doing nothing to stop it. Lightning crashed once more above their heads, and the three took off running in different directions. Burly went toward the castle, while Blabberwort opted for the forest, and Bluebell decided on somewhere in the middle. They didn't get very far before their father's voice reached them again. "Burly! Bluebell! Blabberwort! Get back here right now!" His voice was commanding and sent nightmarish shivers up his children's spines. "Coming, dad!" they all yelled at once, before heading, somewhat begrudgingly, in that direction. When they reached the castle doors, they found their father with twenty or so of his best troll soldiers and their search dogs. The Troll King was glaring at the door when his children entered. Relish had dried blood under his nose and upper lip. A broken shard of mirror lay on the floor in front of him. His children saw the half-humiliated, but mostly livid expression consuming his face. Bluebell opened his mouth to comment on the broken mirror, but was cut off by an elbow to his gut. Burly didn't say anything to his brother, but the action was enough to shut him up. "That Queen wants us looking for the dog now," Relish said. "It has become obvious to me that the three of you idiots are incapable of finding him alone. Especially in this mess. There's only one way that witch of yours could have headed." Relish turned to address his soldiers. "We will scour the Beanstalk Forest until we find them. No one rests, eats, or sleeps until they are captured. Anyone discovered breaking these rules will lose their heads. Understood?" "Yes, sir," the soldiers replied in unison. "Err, Dad?" Blabberwort started. Burly was about to elbow her when their father turned to face them. "What?!" "Well... it's just... I don't see why they would have gone through the Forest. There's another path leading to the Fourth Kingdom that's much safer." "You said yourselves that the witch is crafty. You don't think that a few giants would stop her from taking a more dangerous route. After all, she got past the three of you, didn't she?" "Well, yes." He glowered at her for a moment, before waving an arm at his men. "It's getting dark out. We leave now." The King left his castle, soldiers and search dogs following suit. The three siblings stood dumbstruck for a minute after their father left.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 10th-Kingdom Bondage Much? Chapter 1: Bondage Much? Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Except for the extended part of the scene. Rating: PG...parental permission advised. Who would've thought these used to be curtains? Virginia was certain it was a rhetorical question, being that they really did look like curtains someone had thrown out. How was she supposed to make a costume out of these? Antony was gone before she could ask, so she simply let her hands take in the fabric, planning what could very well be the worst clothes she'd ever worn in her life. She pushed the fabric to the side, frustrated with it, and jumped back what seemed like several feet as her heart jumped into her throat. She saw Wolf there, his hands were bloody, and they were fidgeting with a length of rope. "Hi," she said carefully, "How are you feeling?" He was shaking and he looked very disheveled. "Not too good," he said in a hoarse voice. He sounded ill to her. "Everything's hazy at the moment." He rubbed his head as if to wipe the sweat away. Every month, he'd gone through a transformation like this. Well, technically not like this, because while he was in prison, there really was no danger to the people around him. He tried desperately to remember the night before, with the rabbit...that cute, fluffy, beady-eyed, tasty, tender—"Agh! I must fight what I am!" he exclaimed, walking past her, keeping his hands to his head as if to cure a headache. "I can't even remember what I've done! You better tie me up, that way I can't escape!" He turned to her and offered her the rope in his hands. Virginia looked at him, and this sounded ridiculous. "What do you mean tie you up?" she asked. The last thing she'd expect from this wolf, being what he had told her about his experience in prison, was him willingly putting himself into a state of captivity. He snapped at her now, though he didn't mean to. He wasn't a bad wolf; it was the damn full moon that was coming once again tonight. "Tie me up!" he yelled, startling her terribly, "Keep me from escaping! What part don't you understand?" He couldn't really control his anger anymore, and he knew it was just a matter of time before he lost complete control. "Alright!" she shouted, taking the rope. She was hesitant, though, being that she'd never had to tie someone up to a support beam in an old barn before. Then again, she'd never been faced with a moon-crazed wolf before, either. She grabbed his wrist and looped the rope around it. She circled behind him and was met by him extending his other wrist behind him for her. She felt guilty for having to tie him up, but he had insisted. "Tighter," she heard him say, his voice dark and almost threatening. She yanked on the rope as she looped it around both wrists in a figure-eight kind of thing. "Tighter," he insisted again. "Tighter." She pulled as tight as she could. "If I struggle, I can escape. Tighter!" He was demanding now. Virginia pulled his wrists tighter once more and then brought the rope around him in front of him. He watched her in an eerie, stoic kind of manner. "What's the worst thing you've ever done?" He moved his head lower and took in her scent again. He was really starting to scare her. "Tighter," he hissed, threateningly now, "or I'll eat you up." Just as the words sunk in, Virginia finished off the knot. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and stepped back. There was a flash of yellow in his eyes, and the way he looked at her was not the Wolf she knew. Now she understood just what was happening to him. He growled at her with a lust that was something quite maniacal. "No, you won't," she said bravely, hoping to save the Wolf she'd grown so accustomed to. "Wolf, you won't." She stepped forward again, closer to him, testing him. He stretched his neck towards her, an animalistic language escaping his lips. He smelled her again, her very fragrance making him want her. He wanted to taste her, but there was that small something of a voice in the back of his mind that told him no. "Virginia," he said, his characteristic whine was back, and he squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, "Don't...run, Virginia. Please!" His eyes opened again, and you could tell he was putting up quite a fight to stay in control. His eyes were yellow once more, and he panted and thrashed suddenly at his binds. He bit at her, and the only thing she did was move her upper body back out of his range. "I believe in you, Wolf," she said carefully, putting a hand on his cheek, "You'll pull through this, all right?" She turned to leave then, to walk a little quicker than normal out of the barn, but one last thing hindered her. "Virginia!" Wolf called, "good luck in the contest today." If he weren't so very exhausted and tied to a pole, it wouldn't have seemed so awkward to her. Still, she nodded her thanks and took the fabric from the line and went out of the barn. "Virginia, where are you going?" Tony called from outside the barn door, "I thought you were going to make your costume." Virginia looked at him before latching the door. "Go dip that sheep, or whatever you need to do," she said, "but do NOT go in there." She gave him a deadly, intimidating glare and then went off in search of a seamstress, or whatever they were called in this place.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 10th-Kingdom Cursed Chapter 1: Cursed "I don't want to go, Wolf," Virginia stood in front of the traveling mirror, her hands on her hips. "This has to be some sort of mistake. Or a trap. It could be a trap, you know." "It's not a trap, Dearest," Wolf replied. "It's a ball. A ball in honor of your father. We have to go." Virginia snorted. "But it's in the Troll's Kingdom, Wolf. Trolls. They could be luring us there just to torture us." Wolf smiled at her, infuriatingly patient. "They're not going to torture us, my Lamb Chop. Things have changed with the Trolls. Even Wendell says so." Virginia scoffed, but relented. "We'll see." She picked up the bassinet as Wolf gathered their bags. "Shall we go, my dear?" "Only if we have to," Wolf said with a grin, raising an eyebrow at her. "Well, there is a full moon tonight. We could leave the little one with some of Wendell's people and we could slip away." He made a quick scratching motion with his right hand, a gesture that always made Virginia's heart skip a beat. "We could slip away and…" he trailed off, smiling. "Hide and seek?" Virginia suggested, trying her best to look coquettish. "Huff-puff," was Wolf's only response. Virginia smiled and headed into the traveling mirror. This trip could be a lot of fun, as long as the trolls didn't kill them. Tony was waiting for them at the gate to the Troll Palace. He gave Virginia a hug, his granddaughter a kiss, and ignored Wolf. "Ah! I was afraid that you wouldn't get here in time," he said, grinning madly at them. "I have to go and get everything ready before the Dwarves show up." He turned to leave, but Virginia grabbed him by his arm and dragged him to a stop. "Dwarves? The Dwarves are coming here?" Tony nodded. "Yup." "I thought the Dwarves wanted to..." she trailed off. "Kill you," Wolf helpfully provided. "You did break all their mirrors, after all." "Well, they did for a while, yes," Tony said. "But we worked it out. It turns out that destroying the surplus of magic mirrors really opened up a demand for them." He shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much people are willing to pay for a magic mirror once they found out most of them were destroyed." He headed into the building, and Virginia had to jog to keep up. "Then, once I came up with a way to use the broken mirrors, they warmed right up," he said. "Especially since the Trolls were so willing to pay top dollar." Virginia struggled to keep up with Tony's pace. "The Trolls are buying broken mirrors?" she asked. Tony stopped and turned to her. "No, not the broken mirrors, the mirrored..." He stopped himself. "No, I want it to be a surprise. Just wait, baby. Go get changed, the ball starts in an hour. Just trust your old man." He smiled at her, a smile that did nothing to calm her nerves, and then disappeared into a small door off to the side. Virginia almost followed him, ready to demand an explanation, but Wolf caught her arm and pulled her in the other direction. "See, nothing to worry about," he said. "Nothing to worry about?" Virginia sputtered. "When Dad says 'Trust your old man,' that's when you really have to start to worry." Wolf just shook his head and led the way up to their chambers. Virginia followed, still sure that this was all going to end badly. Dinner, however, turned out to be surprisingly good. The only distraction was the fact that her father was missing. "Antony is helping set up for the ball," Wendell explained. "He's really quite a genius when it comes to these things." Before Virginia could work up the courage to ask what "these things" were, the head Troll table erupted into an argument. Finally, Blabberwort stood. "We're going to the ball now," she shouted. "Enough eating!" Virginia stared in amazement as her dad walked into the center of the room. For a moment, she was sure he was going to sing or something. Instead, he waited for silence, then clapped twice. The light in the room dimmed, and Tony looked up. Suddenly, horrifyingly, Virginia knew exactly what was happening. She followed Tony's gaze to the ceiling and saw dozens of shiny, spinning spheres descending toward them. At the same time, the undeniable strains of the Bee Gees' "Night Fever" filled the room. Light shot from the ceiling and reflected off the faceted surfaces of the balls. The streams of light filled the room, further bouncing off the mosaics on the walls. Each piece of magical mirror changed the lights in some way, adding color and shapes and texture to the beams. It was intoxicating. Mesmerizing. Beautiful. She dropped her head to her hands and groaned. Wolf was by her side in a heartbeat. "What is it, my lamb?" Virginia looked at the room full of people, trolls, dwarves, and elves as they succumbed to the throbbing sounds of disco. Soon everyone was dancing, and a second Bee Gees song filled the room. She looked at Wolf, helpless to explain exactly how wrong this all was. "I told you they were going to torture us," she finally said. Wolf frowned at her. "But it's beautiful. And everyone loves it!" Virginia watched him dance into the middle of the floor, their daughter laughing in his arms, and wondered exactly what she had done to earn this curse.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 10th-Kingdom The Wolf Side 22: Back to the Tenth Kingdom Chapter 1: The Wolf Side 22: Back to the Tenth Kingdom Wolf could feel Virginia's restlessness. She kept pacing the floor and chewing her lip. He wished she would stop doing that. It made him feel things. Not to mention that her scent was especially fragrant, now that her hormones were trying to balance themselves for the cub growing in her belly. "Virginia, just sit down. Eat something," he urged, offering her a pastry from the breakfast table. She stopped her pacing for a moment to consider the offer and took it graciously. "Okay, fine, but I'm not actually hungry." Wolf grinned as she took a big bite and sat down at the table. "Tony will be fine," he reassured her. "He wants to stay." Virginia sighed. "I know he'll be fine. He'll be a guest of the King... or his contractor or whatever." Wolf nodded. "But you know how he is, Wolf. He'll find some way to get in trouble." "How much trouble could he possibly get into building a bouncy castle?" Wolf frowned. "On second thought, don't answer that. Look, Wendell has the mirror now. Tony can come visit as often as you like." Virginia smiled at that. "Speaking of which," she said, "didn't Prince say we could go back today?" Wolf chuckled. "Well, he's the King now. He can say whatever he wants, but yes, we can go back whenever you want." "No time like the present," she said, standing up from the table. She held out her hand and Wolf took it. The day was spent saying goodbye to all the people they had met at the castle. The cook beamed at Wolf with rosy cheeks and gave him a hug. It made him feel like a cub. No one had hugged him like that since his mother. "My cooking has never received such high praise," she told him. "Come back any time and we'll trade recipes again." Wolf assured her that he would. Virginia stopped in her tracks when she saw a couple of mice huddling inside their hole and thanked them. Wolf frowned at that and asked her why she would thank a pair of mice. "Oh, it's nothing, really," she said. "When Dad and I were in the dungeon, there were some mice who spoke German. They helped us translate this sign written by Wilhelm Grimm, and we were able to get out." Wolf frowned again and gave her a small laugh. "I'm going to pretend I know what that means." They continued in this fashion until the sun set over the horizon, casting lovely pink and orange hues over the castle grounds. "Are you ready?" he asked. Her answer was a steady gaze and a light kiss. He took her hand and led her to Tony and the King. "Your Majesty," he announced. The King was in the middle of looking over the menus for the week. Luckily they had already eaten, or Wolf would have been salivating at the prospect of glazed ham. The King smiled kindly at Virginia and took her hands. "My dear sister, I suppose you're ready to go home?" Virginia took a deep breath and nodded. Tony approached his daughter. Wolf could feel a sadness lingering between them. "Shall we?" Tony asked. He followed after Wendell into Virginia's room, which now housed the mirror. This one was different from the one they had chased all over the Kingdoms. Its frame was clean, gleaming gold. An attendant flipped the switch on the frame, and the image of Virginia's home came into view. "That's where I went," said the King with wonder. Virginia bent to pat the magic dog and gave him a kiss on the head. She stood and faced her father. "Are you really going to stay?" she asked. Tony smiled and straightened his back proudly. "Yeah, what do I have to go to New York for – to be a janitor? And remember, I'm still wanted for armed robbery, too." "Right," Virginia replied. "I'll stay a few weeks," Tony said. Virginia laughed and threw her arms around Tony's neck. "I'll see you soon, okay?" Tony nodded and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Wolf was glad to be a part of such a family. "I really love you, Daddy," she whispered. Tony looked like he was about to cry. "'Daddy,' you haven't called me Daddy since you were a little girl." Wolf felt like he should include himself in this moment. He put his arms around the both of them, which made them yelp in surprise. Tony patted him on the face fondly, so Wolf gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Isn't that what children were supposed to do, after all? Virginia broke away from the huddle, and he followed her to the mirror, scratching his temple excitedly. He was about to start a whole other adventure on the other side. "See you soon, Grandpa," he said to Tony. He could have sworn that just before he stepped through the mirror, he heard Tony yell, "Grandpa?!" Once again, the gripping sensation took him, and the breath left his lungs as he traveled to the dimension of the Tenth Kingdom. Virginia was waiting for him on the other side. She took his hand, and they walked to a bridge in the middle of what Virginia called Central Park. The two of them sat there, observing all the sights and sounds the Tenth Kingdom had to offer. Wolf smiled contentedly at Virginia and put a protective, loving hand on her belly. She looked as radiant as ever, and Wolf looked forward to the time when he could tell their cub the tale of the Four who Saved the Nine Kingdoms.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: anime 11eyes-イレブンアイズ A Boy and His Bird Chapter 1: A Boy and His Bird PopatLal's feathers ruffled in frustration. He squawked and pecked at his cage, desperate to escape. Only five feet away lay the love of his life, Kevin Thakkar. He slept peacefully, his belly full of curry and felafels. He smiled in his slumber, dreaming of Tristan, remembering the lovely times they shared together. "If only I could wake him up," PopatLal thought to himself, "then I might be able to express how I feel once and for all." PopatLal then proceeded to aim his plush rear against the cage, and sent a long stream of excrement cascading through the air. It landed with a "plop" on Kevin's bedspread. Kevin stirred in his sleep. He felt the mess, but did not welcome it. "Fuck!" the bird tweeted in aggravation. Kevin was one heavy sleeper. PopatLal knew he had to resort to drastic measures. The lovebird decided it was time to live up to his name. He pecked furiously at the cage, enough to widen the bars for him to fit through. He flew outside in a rush, desperate to express his feelings. PopatLal landed on Kevin's head. At this point, Kevin moaned and swatted at the bird, still asleep. PopatLal pecked at his ear, but Kevin lay dormant. The bird sneaked under the covers in which Kevin lay. He then lifted up Kevin's nightshirt and climbed underneath. His abdomen was so soft and supple, the lovebird couldn't get enough. He took a moment to nuzzle his head in Kevin's belly button. He was thankful Kevin was not a humanoid cyborg that would not possess a belly button. Kevin did not wake, still. PopatLal had other plans, however. He stepped towards Kevin's face, careful not to dig into his skin. He captured a nipple in his beak, making sure to keep it open and not bite it off. It began to harden, and this excited PopatLal. He tickled Kevin's nipple with his birdy tongue, rough yet silky. Kevin began to wake now. His thirteen-inch cock began to harden as the sensations transferred to his dreams. "Oh, Trissy..." he exclaimed, "don't you think we're rushing?" PopatLal felt his heart break. "Trissy? Kevin loved Trissy?" he stopped licking, "well, guess I'll have to win him over from that albino." PopatLal awoke Kevin with a harsh bite to the nipple. Kevin sprang up, grabbing his chest and cupping the bird. "What the fuck, bird? First, you fly down to the basement like a retard, now you're biting nipples?" Kevin pulled him out of his shirt, "How did you even get in there?" Kevin began to yell more, but PopatLal interrupted him with a series of passionate kisses. The longing and desire he felt could be controlled no longer. He would be leaving after Sunday, away from his precious Kevin. Kevin was shocked. Never had he felt so conflicted. His love for Tristan was suddenly beginning to wash away as PopatLal consumed him. He closed his eyes and kissed back, accepting his fate with the bird. PopatLal's five-inch dick exposed itself in Kevin's hands. It was wet and long, just as Kevin liked. In return, Kevin's huge cock began to harden. PopatLal pecked off the stitching on Kevin's nightshirt, revealing his muscular, supple chest. The bird licked all over, pushing Kevin down onto the bed. Before they both knew it, they were interlocked in harmonious lovemaking. Kevin's 1970s headboard knocked against the wall as his dick slid into the bird. PopatLal was an obvious bottom, as Kevin liked to assert his dominance. "Oh PopatLal... you're so tight..." he breathed out, thrusting in and out. PopatLal was in euphoria, feeling Kevin's hard cock inside of him. "Kevin, I'm ready to come, please suck me off... please..." PopatLal begged, knowing he wouldn't last much longer. Kevin pulled out reluctantly, but knew he had to take care of the lovebird first. Kevin wrapped his plump lips around PopatLal's dick. It felt so good, Kevin felt so complete. PopatLal used his wings to guide Kevin's head up and down, sending his dick down Kevin's throat. It felt so good, he wanted to come right then and there. But he wanted to preserve this feeling as long as he could. He knew it would be a very long time before he would feel it again. Kevin began to choke on the bird's dick and tried to remove it. But PopatLal held his head there and began to come. Kevin swallowed every bit, savoring the taste, and finally was released. The bird noticed Kevin's dick was harder than ever. He would need to be finished off soon. He knew just what to do. Kevin laid down on the bed, and PopatLal climbed on top of him. Kevin slid inside him, his ass welcoming and tightening around his phallus. Kevin came immediately, PopatLal didn't even have to try. The feeling of being filled was incredible. Kevin's come was so warm and luscious, he finally felt complete. PopatLal climbed off and laid next to Kevin. "I love you so much, PopatLel. Why did we wait so long?" Kevin was out of breath and spoke in spurts. "I... I don't know, Kevie Senior..." PopatLal tweeted, closing his eyes. Kevin pulled the covers over the both of them. He kissed the bird's forehead as his eyes closed. PopatLal snuggled against his lover, knowing that tonight, they were one. Finally united, they fell asleep content and with heavy hearts.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: cartoons Chapter 1 The events that unfold involve the aftermath of Episode "13" and feature Sam Manson. Danny was out rounding up all the ghosts, again, but what he didn't know was that one ghost was watching his best friend, Sam. The ghost was perched on the building across from her house, watching as she ran around her room completely naked. Her hair was wet and hanging down, her nipples were hard and sticking out due to the cold, and her body glistened with the water from the shower. He felt himself start to grow, so he leaped towards her, phasing through the wall. He landed behind her and breathed in deeply, able to smell her arousal. Sam turned around and opened her mouth to scream, but the wolf was fast and covered her mouth with his, squeezing to let her know he meant business. He slowly released her mouth. "What do you want?" she asked. The wolf licked one of her breasts, and she moaned lightly. He wrapped his tongue around her breast, squeezing it, then the other. Sam moaned and arched her back, thrusting her breasts toward him. He took long swipes across her breasts, lightly squeezing each of them. He stopped licking her and nudged her toward the bed. Sam, not wanting to anger him, moved quickly to the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and closed her legs tightly, then she saw it - his cock. It was huge and hadn't even fully hardened yet. It was at least 13 inches long, with a thin tip that widened to probably about 6 inches around. He came toward her and sniffed her legs, following them up to her groin. He pushed his nose between her legs, forcing them open. Sam slowly opened her legs wider, not wanting to anger him. He sniffed her pussy, then began to assault it with his tongue, pleasuring Sam immensely. She began pushing onto his tongue, bucking wildly, torn between the pleasure and the fact that it was a ghost wolf. The wolf started licking up her body, sucking on her nipples. He began licking her face, especially her lips. Sam held her mouth tightly shut, but the wolf would not be denied. He lightly scratched her right breast, allowing the blood to gently ooze out. Sam gasped out in pain, and the wolf took advantage of the opportunity, sliding his tongue down her throat. Sam instinctively tried to spit it out, but failed, and instead began to suck on it. She started to enjoy the sensation of sucking on his tongue and moaned lightly. He withdrew and gently cleaned the scratch he had made, and she heard a low growl as he enjoyed the taste of her blood. He assaulted her vagina again, really pleasuring Sam; she moaned at the stimulation. He dipped his tongue inside, about 2 inches, then slid out and across her clit. She felt the pleasure build up, and she closed her eyes tightly, enjoying the immense pleasure he was giving her. As she was about to fall into bliss, he stopped. She opened her eyes to see what he was doing. His front paws were on the bed, one on each side of her, and his cock was waving underneath. He nudged her, telling her to roll over. She lay there, a little afraid of what was going to happen. He growled, letting her know he would do worse if she didn't cooperate. She rolled over, with her chest on the bed and her knees on the floor. She heard him move off the bed and looked to see him coming around to her face. He jumped on the bed, standing over her, and left his cock right in front of her. She slowly reached out and began to rub his length, and he moved forward, pushing it against her lips. Her eyes widened at what he wanted, and she tentatively took his length into her mouth. She began taking his length into her mouth, pumping with her hands what she couldn't fit. He began to slowly thrust into her mouth, growling appreciatively. She began to like the taste and picked up speed, moaning into his cock, and the wolf growled in pleasure. She moved down his body and took his furry balls into her mouth, licking and sucking on them like she hadn't eaten anything for days. Then she moved back to his cock, taking a few inches, then started bobbing her head, taking a little more of it each time. He growled deeply, and she felt his cock tense. She slid back until only the tip was in her mouth and pumped him furiously, sucking really hard on the tip. He let out a howl, which surprised Sam, and she recoiled, leaving his cock free to spray her with his juices. He covered her face and breasts in cum. He panted heavily and looked at Sam. Sam sat there, enjoying the feel of his warm semen on her skin. She wiped a bit off her chest and slipped it into her mouth. The wolf then forced her head onto the bed as he circled her. He lined his cock up with her pussy and slammed the whole length into her, up to his expanding knot. Sam screamed in pain as he tore mercilessly through her hymen and filled her to the max. He began slamming into her, speeding up to a speed that only dogs can obtain. Sam was screaming in pain as he slammed into her, but it slowly turned to pleasure. Every time he slammed back in, her pussy stretched a little more, until finally, he slammed his knot home. Sam screamed in pleasure and pain as he slammed his knot into her. As he fucked her, all she could feel was his cock inside her. She screamed as orgasm after orgasm crashed over her. He continued pumping into her as another orgasm hit her, leaving her in a trance-like state. She felt him push back in, slipping through her cervix, and fill her with his seed. She felt uncomfortably full as the knot didn't allow any of his cum to come out of her pussy. The wolf turned around and lay down, waiting for his knot to shrink, not wanting to phase, and enjoying the feeling of her tight, warm pussy. Sam started bucking on his cock, trying to get off one last time, and started shaking and thrashing as her orgasm hit. The wolf pulled out, leaving a river of cum to run out and onto the floor, and leaped into the night; as Sam slipped into unconsciousness.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 13-to-Life Whispers Chapter 1: Whispers It had been five years since we moved to Britain. Simon had welcomed us with open arms and was willing to let Bran run Harrowfield alongside him, as he greatly needed the help. The boarders had been falling, and neighbors were willing to fight for the land. Johnny was becoming a strong young lad and would follow in his father's footsteps as a kind, strong, confident leader. And, as I had predicted those many long years ago, it was difficult to pry him from the water. It was one of those long afternoons when I had been trying to convince him to come out of the river, when something caught my eye on the riverbank. It was his trousers. I frowned, thinking of how cold it was in there. "Johnny, come out now!" I called, not wishing to have to go in there and get him again. "You will catch a chill, and then what will you do with yourself?" Johnny was just laughing and swimming further and further away from the side of the riverbank, where I was standing. "Bran can get him out, why not me?" I grumbled to myself, and as if he had heard me, he was there, standing behind me. "Is he not coming out of there again?" he sounded exasperated. I just shook my head. "I knew I shouldn't have taught him to swim; it has come to no good. Oh, Bran, he will catch a chill; could you please get him out? He simply will not listen to me." Bran's arms came around me in a tight hug from behind. "I think you worry too much, Liadan. You know he will come out when he gets too cold." I could almost detect a smile in his voice. "Are those his trousers on the shore?" he was showing no attempt at hiding his amusement. "He really does take after his mother." I slapped his hand lightly. "I do believe you are getting confused, dear heart. I do not strip to my shift and go swimming in the freezing river." Bran's laugh vibrated through me. "Oh, be quiet, that was one time." Bran's voice suddenly turned serious. "I can think of something I would rather be doing than trying to get our son out of the water, which I am led to believe is an impossible task." His mouth was at the back of my neck. "I thought there was no task too great for the Painted Man. Perhaps I am wrong?" "When it comes to our son, I believe there are many tasks too great for me, Liadan." His mouth had moved from my neck to my collarbone. "Are you not going to ask me what it is I am thinking of?" "Dear heart, I can guess, and not right now, not when Johnny could be catching a chill, and definitely not when we are in the public eyes of the household." Bran gave a low growl. "Later" was all I whispered before I pulled away from him to go get Johnny out of the water. Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, the sight showed me a vision, and this scared me; I had not had one for almost two moons. It was a man dressed all in black, calling my name, a whisper no louder than the wind, a whisper calling me to him; it was filled with death and destruction, of sorrow and of loss. I saw Bran and Johnny clutching each other, both with tears streaming down their faces, and a fire blazing in the forest of Sevenwaters. Connor looked old and sunken, and alone. I gasped and gave a little scream; tears were falling down my face, but the vision was still there. Bran was there in an instant, holding me. "Liadan, what is it? Are you unwell? Please tell me what it is, what do you see?" He was stroking my hair, which just made me cry all the more. "Oh, Bran, it is terrible; this sight is so horrid, I wish to be rid of it!" I simply could not stop the tears from flowing. "Tell me what you see, Liadan. Is it Johnny?" His voice sounded fierce and worried; he sounded more like the Painted Man than my Bran. I just looked at him, shook my head, and kissed him with such fiery passion that he instantly responded, pulling my shift up over my head, whilst I removed his shirt. "You will have to tell me eventually, Liadan," he said breathlessly. "Not this time, I don't, dear heart; it is better off you do not know." And then we went to our bed, where we showed our love for each other, his hands slowly feeling the swell of my breasts, and me feeling the tender part between his legs, making it harder so it could come inside me. In the morning, we silently got dressed and went down to breakfast, where we found Johnny annoying the serving ladies. "No, I wanted a man's meal, not this!" His face was scrunched up and turning red; I could feel a tantrum coming on. "Takes after me, you say?" I muttered to Bran, who laughed under his breath at his son, who was so much like his father sometimes it was just ridiculous. I went over to Johnny, trying to calm him down, and looked apologetically at the poor serving maid. "Johnny, this is more of a man's breakfast than even your father has sometimes; you should be grateful for what is on your plate, as many children do not even get half of what you have right here." Johnny just shrugged his shoulders and began to eat his meal. "And you better eat all of it," I warned. "I am a man, mother, and real men eat everything on their plates." I just rolled my eyes at Bran and sat down to my own meal. It was impossible, as Bran had said, when it came to our Johnny.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: anime2 Chapter 1 "You fucking bastard!" 18 moaned, her voice like that of a common street whore, as Master Roshi's horse-sized dick pounded away at her android pussy. His heavy balls slapped against her cunt with each thrust, eliciting a mixture of pain and pleasure. "I fucking hate you, goddammit!" Roshi laughed, slapping 18's enormous ass and marveling at how it jiggled. "You keep saying that, but your pussy seems to be speaking a different tune, missy," he said with a grin. "I've fucked plenty of married women in my day, and I've come to learn that after a while, they get tired of the same old cock night after night. That's why, like you, they all eventually started to love my dick." Roshi grunted as he bottomed out in 18's pussy, blowing another thick load that coated her insides in hot, sticky jizz. "Besides, we both know that if you didn't like this, you could've thrown me off anytime you wanted." "Shut up, you old bastard," 18 growled, visibly shaking as Roshi started to pull his entire length of old man dick out of her cum-filled pussy. "W-wait!" Roshi grinned, keeping just the head of his cock inside 18's pussy. Even after an hour of pounding that married cunt of hers, Roshi was still amazed at how tight it felt, like it was hungry for his dick. "I thought you hated me," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Why in the world would you want the dick of a man who isn't even your husband inside your pussy, eh?" 18 mumbled something, staying on her hands and knees before Roshi slapped her fat white ass again. "Ungh, you fucker," she cried out. "I can't hear you, slut," Roshi ordered, his commanding tone causing 18 to shiver. "Speak up." 18 took a deep breath before shouting, "I said I want more of that dick, you annoying old fuck!" Roshi laughed before starting to fuck her ass once more, causing the married android to let out more moans of pure pleasure. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Krillin, but his dick is just too big!" It wasn't her fault, she kept telling herself; the old fuck just wouldn't leave her alone and kept talking about how much he wanted to pound her ass. 18 had thought that if she humored him, he'd stop embarrassing Krillin. What a mistake that was, because the second Roshi dropped his pants and showed off that donkey dick of his, 18 knew she was in trouble. Being an android of her durability meant that she could take all manner of huge cock, and in fact, even before she was an android, she loved sucking off huge dicks from total strangers or getting fucked in dirty motel rooms like a common whore. Sure, Krillin's dick had felt good at first, but that was mostly because she hadn't fucked anyone in years. After a while, the same old boring sex became dull. What was she supposed to do? Roshi was constantly acting like a man half his age and making lewd comments about 18 and her enormous tits and ass, it just made the android so horny, and he did that all in front of Krillin, her husband! Who could blame her for falling in love with this old man's enormous gut puncher of a dick? Or the thick ropes of jizz it shot out all the time? It's not her fault, dammit! --- Krillin frowned as he tried to focus on the magazine he was reading. Upstairs, his wife was getting pounded like a whore by his former master, and Krillin could hear all of it. Roshi hadn't even pretended that they were doing something innocent; the old man had just shown up in the living room naked, his freakishly large cock sticking straight up, and he dragged 18 upstairs with him. "Oh fuck! Fuck me, you big-dicked bastard! Slam it deep in me! Make that jizz shooter kiss my cervix, you fucker!" 18's voice echoed through the house, making Krillin's face burn with shame. At first, Krillin was sure that 18 would've told Roshi off, but to his horror, his wife had just silently followed along with Roshi, looking back at Krillin with a sad expression as Roshi talked about how much he wanted to fuck her ass. And what had Krillin done? He'd sat there like a bitch and just let it happen. "Scream my name, whore! Let Krillin know who's the real man in your life!" Roshi shouted, his voice dripping with arrogance. "It's you, Roshi! You and your fat donkey dick!" 18 replied, her voice laced with a mix of pleasure and shame. Krillin was fighting back tears. There was no denying it now; he was a cuckold. He'd helped save the world multiple times, and yet here he was, sitting in the living room while upstairs, his wife was pounded by his master. Life was cruel. --- "How many loads is that, you asshole?!" 18 gasped, laying face down on the bed while her bouncing booty was raised up high, her pussy leaking copious amounts of cum. Roshi jacked off and sprayed even more jizz on her fat globes of ass flesh. "God, it feels like I'm drowning in it." Roshi laughed, grabbing 18 by the back of her head and forcing her to sit up. He rubbed his messy jizz-covered dick across her face, his balls hanging low but still plenty full of nut butter. "Now give this cock you love so much a kiss," he ordered. 18 frowned for a moment before leaning forward, pressing her lips against the messy dick head, which was still leaking jizz. She licked her lips as she pulled back, savoring the taste. "Fuck, why does it taste so good? Krillin's never tasted this delicious." Roshi laughed, pulling 18 forward and making the android wife suck his dirty cock. "That's because he's a wimp! Always was, you know! Only reason I trained the little bastard was because I felt pity. Goku was the only one worthwhile to ever come here." Roshi's mind wandered, thinking about how he had also fucked Bulma on the side constantly because of Yamcha's cluelessness. "Heh, Roshi could still remember how clueless Yamcha was; he had no idea how addicted to Roshi's cock Bulma was." "Now get ready to swallow, cause here comes a big one!" 18 widened her eyes as Roshi's cock erupted, pouring thick and sticky globs of old man jizz down her throat, which she quickly swallowed. As disgusted as she was, she knew he was right; she loved this dick and the cum it produced. 18's throat bulged as she swallowed load after load, a small mound appearing on her stomach before Roshi pulled back, and she coughed, cum dribbling down her lips. "Fuck, it's so thick!" Roshi stared down at the cum-drenched wife before him, grinning like a son of a bitch as his cock remained hard. "Well, there's plenty more where that came from, bitch! Now, how's about we test that tight asshole of yours out, eh?" Roshi said, stroking his manhood lewdly. 18 widened her eyes. "B-but not even Krillin's touched there!" Roshi licked his lips. "Then looks like I get to be your first time. Heh heh!" Roshi shoved 18 over, pushing the fat bottom bitch down as he angled his cock against her tight pucker of an asshole, before shoving half of it in. "Hooo boy, that's tight!" "Augh shit, you fucker! Ahhh!" 18 moaned, clutching the sheets as she grunted and groaned as Roshi slowly pounded away at her virgin asshole. "Oh fuck, why do I love this dick so much? It isn't fair!" "Life ain't fair, sweetcheeks!" Roshi shouted, pistoning his dick back and forth as his balls swung and slapped against 18's pussy. "But hey, at least you can admit how much you love cheating on your husband now, eh? Ha! You know he can probably hear everything we're doing right now! What do you think of that, your wimpy little husband knowing how much of a slut for old man dick his wife is?" 18 moaned, Roshi's enormous manhood reaching places she never thought possible. "I don't fucking care anymore! The only thing I want is your dick, you old bastard! Fucking cum in my asshole!" "Gladly!" Roshi bottomed out, shoving his entire length into 18's fat ass before blasting another thick gallon of jizz into her. "Milk that dick with your ass, whore! Let it know how much you love it!" "I love it! I fucking love this fat old dick!" 18 cried, her whole body shaking as Roshi pulled out, leaving her asshole a gaping mess that was filled to the brim with hot jizz. "Fuck... so big..." Roshi looked out the corner of his eye, spotting Krillin watching from a crack in the bedroom door. The old man smiled, slapping 18's ass once more and causing the woman to squeal. "Now get ready for some more, we got the whole day ahead of us." All Krillin could do was cry and jerk his tiny little pecker as Roshi mounted his wife again, unable to do a goddamn thing but be the little bitch that he was and watch as another superior man made his wife a total slut. Right now, he wished he'd stayed dead.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: anime Chapter 1 Warnings for angst, depression, psychologically troubled England, self-harm, Canada fluff, and talk of post American Revolution fallout. As ever, thank you to everyone who reads and likes my stories. This one wasn’t betaed and probably needs a mass edit, but my other half couldn’t edit for me this time. I apologize. I love reviews; I am the cookie monster of reviews, and generally, it gives me warm fuzzies, so thanks to anyone who leaves me comments and reviews. If you want to follow the trials and tribulations of England, I roleplay him at theenglisharecoming.tumblr.com. Also, if you just want to harass me via asks to write stuff. ~*~ 1808 The room was dark, the only light that of the fire reflected upon the still water. Hours had passed, and still, he had not stirred; he was frozen. Emerald eyes might as well have been fashioned from glass for all their vision and life. Then fingers moved through frigid water, digging mindlessly into the wound. The bayonet had not cut deep enough, not by far, and as though by habitual action, he began to pluck the stitches away. One at a time, he tugged them away, crimson starting to seep into the clear water, staining it. Nails dug into flesh, tearing it slowly asunder, any attempt to heal soon rendered useless. How long had it been now? At least a couple of decades. “Arthur!” Matthew’s voice was strained, cracking with emotion as he hurried to the bath, seizing his wrists. For a moment, he seemed to look up before the listless gaze returned. “You’re freezing; let’s get you out of here, eh?” It was a scene they repeated often. Dear, sweet Canada, he’d been almost terrified to let him out of his sight. After all, though, as a country, England was still as tenacious as ever; as a man, Arthur was broken, wasn’t he? Time after time, Matthew had written to Alfred, imploring, begging him to return, to consider what he was doing to their family. America, however, remained unmoved. The siren call of freedom had too sweet a song for him to listen to reason. At length, the letters had become more personal. Dear Alfred, I’m terrified; he won’t eat, he won’t talk, he never sleeps, and when he does, he screams. Please, please visit him. Even if you won’t come back, at least see what you can do for him. Your brother, Matthew. No matter how many times Canada wrote, there was never a reply. Teeth found the Canadian’s lip, biting it as he half-lifted, half-helped him from the cooper tub. “Your brother, Hugh, visited yesterday.” Tones were light as Canada started to dry him off, rubbing cloth into his chilled and bloodied frame. Later, he would sew the wound as he had many times before. Yet, no matter what Matthew did, he couldn’t seem to close it. If he had been paying attention, he might have noticed the longing in the Canadian’s eyes, that wish that he could become his brother and just heal him. Yet, he saw none of it. “He brought good news; it seems your forces were triumphant over Père.” A wistful expression darted across Matthew’s face as he began to rub blonde strands dry. “Of course, I told him you still weren’t taking visitors; he took a good chunk out of your mantelpiece.” Hands paused in their ministrations to gauge a reaction, but he provided none, and so the drying resumed, patient and gentle. Rarely, mentioning France garnered some reaction, a little recognition in emerald eyes, but this time, there was naught but the threads of blood winding down his abdomen. Canada had given up telling him not to tear at it. A kiss was pressed to his damp brow as cloth brushed away the crimson fluid and then pressed to the scar to staunch the flow. “I miss you… one day, you’ll come back to me, I know.” Yorktown had been the location of his last words. As hot blood had soaked into the jacket, he’d ended up on his knees. France had sneered at him across the battlefield. Alfred had yanked his flag from its bearer and planted it firmly between his thighs. Slowly, the armies had dwindled away until all that remained within the gun smoke were himself and Canada. The generals had dined together, his own and Alfred’s, but he could not stomach the thought of it. Instead, he had limped away from the site of his undoing and torn his heart out with sobs that were raw, like some wounded animal. Eventually, Canada hadn’t been able to bear listening to it any longer and had embraced him, pulling him into his chest until the sound had subsided. “You are still Great Britain to me.” “By all rights, I should be dead.” And no further words had crossed his lips. “There we go, all dry.” Carefully, clothes were pulled around him before he was led out of the darkness to the sitting room. Candles flickered as Matthew lit more, needing as much light as he could get. Pulling the rudimentary medical kit from the drawer, he threaded the needle. “This’ll hurt a little; I apologize.” Words, any words, filled the quietness that was oppressive. Sometimes, it was a wonder that the Canadian hadn’t cracked and torn away from him as well. Concentration focused his vision, and very carefully, he began to stitch the wound together. No flinch would disturb nimble hands, and eventually, it was done. “I think it gets better every time.” A gentle sigh before short blonde strands nestled to his shoulder, the Canadian gathering him tight in his arms. After the first few nightmares, Matthew had cut his hair shorter, so he would not be mistaken for Francis. Perhaps he’d felt guilty for pressing a blade to the young nation’s throat; it was difficult to tell. Whatever would help seemed to be the young man’s motto. Though he no doubt would have dearly liked to remove the knife from under his pillow, it had remained. At length, Alfred’s reply had arrived. Hastily scrawled, messy, only a few words. “Let the bell of freedom ring out, mother fuckers!” Anger, sheer anger, had radiated from Canada. How could his brother be so callous towards the man who had tried his best to tenderly raise them both? Arthur had been far from perfect, but his heart had usually been in the right place. For the first time, Canada felt a little hatred in his chest towards his brother. “Papa, when someone hurts you, what do you do?” Only silence answered, vacant eyes staring out into the sunlit garden. In the past, he would have gone all guns blazing against any who had sought to hurt him or his beloved colonies; now, he watched the unruly heather starting to overtake the patch where daffodils were once abundant. 1812 As the news from his home became more frantic, Canada spoke less, though his tending remained gentle, steadfast. Then one day, a letter came, and trembling and tearful, he had entered the sitting room. “I’m going to have to leave, Papa; I’m sorry, so sorry, but it seems Alfred is trying to force the issue of my independence.” Teardrops rained down upon his chest. Strong arms clinging to him as the young nation wept at the thought of war with his brother. Then, as though the steel that had once run down his spine emerged in the Canadian, he gently took his face in his hands. “Don’t worry, Papa; I’m going to make it all better. I’m going to burn down his White House and make it so he can’t destroy this family anymore. Just you see, I’ll make you proud.” Then, for the first time in over 20 years, a little heat flickered into deadened emerald orbs. A shuddering breath stirred in his chest. The sluggish workings of a dormant mind beginning to rekindle as his hand lifted to wrap around Canada’s wrist. “Let me fight at your side.” The voice was a whisper, cracked and hoarse from disuse. Yet, the light that had been a flicker became a fire, the need to protect the dear sweet boy who had tended him for so long dragging his consciousness forwards. They spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms, and this time, it was Canada who cried like a wounded animal, and England who held him. Let the flames of hell consume all that threatened the British Empire. Let punishment fall upon those who betrayed him. No one would be permitted to damage Canada, not even Alfred. Especially not Alfred.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: movies 1917 A Time to Plant Chapter 1: A Time to Plant They planted the sapling in the backyard, just outside the girls' bedroom window. "What kind of tree is it, Daddy?" Lila asked. She rubbed her arms against the evening chill of early March. "It's a cherry," Will tossed the last shovelful of dirt onto the growing pile. "A Lambert cherry." He laid the shovel aside. "That's deep," Sophie said, peering into the fresh earth. "It's about half as deep as you are tall," Will said, ruffling her hair. "Really?" He wiped his hands on his trousers, rubbed red by the rough shovel handle. "Well, I suppose there's one way to find out for sure," he grunted, lifting Sophie and setting her down slowly into the hole. The earth rose past her waist. "Don't tell your mother," Will said with a wink. His youngest daughter giggled, spinning inside the hole. Will lifted her out a moment later, patting dirt out of her dress. Lila helped him settle the sapling into the ground, holding it straight as he shook loose dirt over the roots. "Why are we planting the tree, Daddy?" she asked. Will sat back. He rubbed at the dirt on his palms, remembering how Blake's blood had seeped into every crease in his skin, mapping his hands until the river washed them clean. The wind whipped Sophie's skirt toward him, and he gave it a tug. "For a friend," he said. As they sifted weeds out of the dirt and poured it back into the hole, he remembered how the water had threaded white petals between his fingers—Blake. And how the trees had shuddered with the sound of the soldier singing, *but golden fields lie just before me, where God's redeemed shall ever sleep*—Blake. And how Blake, passing one of the downed cherry trees, had snapped off a blossoming twig and tucked it into his pocket. *They might be Dukes, hard to tell…Mum's got an orchard, back home…* Will stood, taking Sophie and Lila each by the hand. They packed the dirt with their feet, stomping it firm. Sophie's dress was marred with earthy handprints and grass stains. He lifted her into his arms, wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his thumb. "We should go get cleaned up. Mum will have dinner ready," he said. "Is your friend going to come to see his tree?" Lila asked. She still stood with her feet on the fresh dirt, examining a few small leaves on the lowest branch. They were fragile, a pale green, still unfolding. The windchime rang from the porch, a few high, glassy notes. Will tightened his hold on Sophie and turned Lila back to the house with a gentle hand on her shoulder. A wood thrush warbled its evening call from the fence row. "No," Will answered once they reached the house. He set Sophie down and held the door open for his daughters. "No, he won't be able to." They entered the back door to the kitchen, and he paused for a moment to watch the sapling cherry rattle in the breeze. Perhaps now the dreams would stop, the dreams that woke him with a shiver, that left him grasping at white petals that weren't there with hands that were no longer bloody. Schofield ate dinner in a warm kitchen with his family. The last few months he had drifted among them again as they spoke, and laughed, and moved, and breathed, and slept, and ate, and told stories, and danced, and reached for his hand or his arm or to be held. No longer haunting him silently, tucked away in a tobacco tin. He and Catherine put the girls to bed after dinner, slipping out of the room as their eyes were closing in sleep. He kissed his wife goodnight in the hallway. "I'll come to bed soon," he whispered. "Still working on that letter?" "Yes." She held him longer than she would have before, her face tucked into the curve of his neck. Silent. He carried a candle back to the kitchen table, and an envelope, a piece of paper, a pen. In the wavering light, he finished a letter he'd been writing sentence by sentence since November, finding only so many words every night. Dear Mrs. Blake, I'm sorry this letter is so late in coming—frankly, I'm struggling to find the words. I was a friend of your son, Tom. We served together in the 8th. I was tasked to deliver a message with him, and I was with him when he died. He asked me to write to you and tell you he wasn't scared. Your son risked his life to save not only his brother, but also an injured German pilot. He had more heart, courage, and compassion than I could ever hope to possess. Tom saved my life in many ways. I am with my wife and daughters today because of his bravery. I am still grieving with you, and with Joe. (I hope he is home.) Thank you for Tom. I hope you know how much he loved you all. Sincerely, Lance Cpl. William Schofield, 8th He read the letter three times. Something was missing. He added, P.S. My daughters, Lila and Sophie, helped me plant a cherry tree in our backyard this evening. I never paid much attention to cherry trees. Blake taught me about them. The tree is for him. Schofield folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope, already addressed. The candle flickered, and wind shook the leaves of the sapling outside in the dark. He would mail it in the morning. This message could take its time.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: celebrity Chapter 1: 1979 The studio audience stood up and applauded as another episode of Mork & Mindy came to a close. Young comedic genius and star of the show, Robin Williams, took a bow alongside his beautiful co-star, Pam Dawber. As the cameras stopped rolling, Robin pumped his fist in the air and shouted, "Whooooo!" Pam hugged him, saying, "You were great, Robin. As usual." Robin smirked, looking down at the Denver Broncos Cheerleader outfit he was wearing. "Yeah, considering," he said. He turned his attention to the director, Howard Storm, and said in a camp voice, "Can I keep this, please? I just love feeling the air circulating around my legs! Whoo! I really just want to feel what it's like without underwear!" The cast and crew broke into peals of laughter. Pam was laughing so hard she nearly doubled over. "Robin, stop it! It's bad enough you do it while filming; by the time we're done, I can barely stand!" Robin ran a hand through his head of long, wavy rock-star-like hair. "Sorry, Pam. I'll remember next time. Next time I won't— TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!" He totally caught Pam off guard, tickling her stomach. She playfully batted him away. He stopped and said, "Aww, seriously, I'm sorry, Pam." She wrapped her arms around him, saying, "Oh, you sweet, funny man." He hugged her back. She kissed him on the nose. "Well, same time next week!" She removed herself from his embrace and walked away, waving. "Bye, Pam!" he called back. It's a good time to be Robin Williams – being the star of a top-rated sitcom, having a beautiful co-star, being able to ad-lib, even if a lot of those don't get used in the finished take. Riches and fame – who could ask for more? Riches and fame, though, bring so much pressure. Pressure to do well, to make people laugh, and keep them laughing. To have them love you. Sure, you're doing well now, Robin, but what about when your five-season contract is up? Where do you go from there? Will you go anywhere? For crying out loud, you're playing a fucking alien! Robin had to tell his brain to shut up. All this self-doubt in his head plagued him when he wasn't performing. But who could blame him? This second season was really half-baked. "A fucking Denver Broncos Cheerleader," he muttered to himself. "They dressed me up as a fucking Denver Broncos Cheerleader. As if that would help ratings? Pam as a cheerleader, sure. But me? Monkeyboy? Fucking idiots." Robin sat down in his living room and looked over at the bag of cocaine on the table. No, not tonight. That stuff makes you paranoid. But I need it! Robin snorted up the horrible powder and tossed his head back onto the couch. "God... fucking damn," he muttered. He ran a hand through his head of hair again. Cocaine was completely fucking him up, but he couldn't stop. For some reason, it actually calmed him down, made him quiet. "Maybe I am an alien after all," he whispered to himself. After a few minutes of staring into space, he got up and decided to take a shower. As the water was heating up, Robin took a look at himself in the mirror. "Who the fuck is this ugly-ass bastard?" he said, looking in disgust at his huge nose, which still had some cocaine trailing from it. He wiped off the cocaine and looked at his hairy arms. "My god, I'm a Chia Pet." He lightly touched the hair on his arms and took notice of the fact that it was all on the lower arms. He chuckled. "Mom always said that if I didn't stop doing it, I'd grow hair in strange places." He noticed the water was hot, so he slowly stepped into the shower. He sighed. Maybe the water would help him relax. Maybe you should have thought of that before you started on the goddamn cocaine. "Shut up, brain," he muttered. He started shampooing his beautiful mane of hair. Midway through, he giggled and started rubbing shampoo on his forearms. "If I'm gonna shampoo, might as well get it everywhere." He rubbed it into his chest hair and started talking in a goofy German accent. "Ach, ja! Mein nipples have not been zis hard since zat vinter ve invaded Russia!" He shampooed his stomach, and then he reached down there. His cock was already hard from all that vigorous nipple massaging. Robin knew what he had to do now. He gripped his dick and closed his eyes. Pam Dawber... oh god, Pam... you're so fucking beautiful... In Robin's mind, she was taking off her light blue sweater, unhooking her bra, and revealing two small, perky breasts. Who cared if they were small? She said to him, "Oh, Mork, you're the sweetest..." and leaned in to kiss him. He started rubbing himself more slowly now; he wanted to make this last. "Oh Mindy..." he gasped in a sweet, soft voice. "OH!" He stroked the base of his cock gently with his left hand and started working the rest of it with his right hand. Pam was completely naked in his head now, looking at him with those bright, shiny eyes. Legs spread invitingly, but not obscenely. "Fuck me, Mork..." she gasped. Fuck me, Mork. Just the same thing every single groupie ever said. Mork, Mork, Mork. That's all they ever want. They don't know you; they just want the harmless little goofball they see on TV. And as far as ABC is concerned, Mork doesn't even have a dick. Robin winced at the thought of any incarnation of him, even fictional, not having a dick. "Maybe they'll change their minds," he said to himself. "Maybe they'll give Mork a dick. Let him fuck Mindy..." Robin concentrated now; he wanted this fantasy to be more real. He stopped moaning "Mindy... Mindy..." and started moaning "Pam... Pam...." "Robin..." she moaned inside his head. He imagined himself sliding into her... oh god, so warm and wet around his cock. He gripped his penis tighter and instead of just moving his hand, he started thrusting his hips, completely lost in his fantasy world. Joined with her, kissing her all over her face, caressing her all over as far as his hands could reach, as she kissed his neck and said, "I love you." Robin climaxed, moaning in ecstasy as he came in several hot bursts, still imagining he was inside his co-star. Coming inside of her felt like heaven, that one moment where you're totally lost and nothing matters. And she was coming too. Wake up, Robin. You just came on the shower curtain. Robin opened his eyes, and they immediately stung. He had forgotten that he hadn't finished shampooing his hair, and it was dripping down onto his face. "Shit!" he yelled. He washed the semen off his hands, then grabbed a washcloth and dabbed his eyes. He looked in disgust at the shower curtain. "God damn it!" He took another washcloth and wiped it off, and threw the washcloth out. "I really need to work on my aim," he joked to himself. He finished shampooing his hair, rinsed, and got out. As he toweled himself off, he looked in the mirror again, but with a different perspective. He noticed he wasn't so hairy from behind. He looked at his own tight, perfectly toned buttocks and his muscular arms. Maybe you're not as ugly as you think. After all, you have groupies. No, forget the groupies tonight. It's not about what they think of you; it's what you think of you. Forget the money, the drugs, the superstar angst. Where will you be after Mork & Mindy? "I think I'll be going good places," said Robin to himself. He put on a white bathrobe and smiled. He looked at his sweet smile in the mirror and said, "I'm sure I'll be going good places." He ran his hand through his head of freshly washed hair one last time before going to bed and dreaming of tomorrow. Carpe diem – seize the day. The End
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 1984 My Love For Evermore- KK and Mick (Sweet And Judas Priest Fanfic) Chapter 1: My Love For Evermore- KK and Mick (Sweet And Judas Priest Fanfic) Kenneth was in the shower, and Mick was displaying himself on the bed. The lights were off, and there were candles on the nightstand, along with red rose petals and roses on the bed. Mick was already naked and wearing high heels, which Ken loved. Ken got out of the shower and said, "Is it warm in there, baby?" Mick replied, "Yes, honey." Mick lit the candles and waited for Ken. "Okay, baby, I'll be there in a minute," Ken said as he put on his black lace and silk robe. He came out of the bathroom and smiled at Mick. "Well, honey," the blonde said. "Yes, dear," Mick replied. "How do I look?" Kenneth asked. Mick looked up and down and said, "My, my, you look amazing." Kenneth smiled and said, "Thank you, I love you." Mick said, "I love you too." They smiled at each other, and Kenneth said, "Sweetheart, is this your first time?" They had been dating for a few months, and Mick said, "Y-yes, I'm just a little nervous." K.K. smiled and said, "Aww, honey, it's okay, I'll make it the best night of our lives." Mick smiled and said, "I love you so much." Ken smiled and said, "I love you so much more." They kissed, their tongues swirling inside each other's warm mouths. Ken gently pushed Mick down on the bed and got on top of him. Ken had bought a garter belt and stockings to wear for Mick, and Mick drooled a little and bulged when Ken took his robe off. Ken smiled and kissed Mick again, biting and pulling on Mick's lip, while Mick pulled and sucked on his boyfriend's lip. They stopped, and Ken licked Mick's chest and nipples, teasing him. Mick smiled and laughed, saying, "B-baby, you're teasing me." Ken smiled and laughed, saying, "I know, baby, but that's how much I love you." The blonde placed his hands and rubbed around Mick's throbbing penis. Mick moaned a little, and Ken smiled and kissed him, going down to Mick's throbbing cock and swallowing. Mick moaned, "B-baby." Ken looked up at him and let him go, saying, "Is everything okay?" Mick said he was going to cum, but Ken didn't want his boyfriend to cum so fast. Ken grabbed the lube that was on the nightstand, and Mick laid down on his chest, spreading his legs and moving into a downward position. Ken took his finger, applied some lube, and placed it in the crack, taking his thumb and telling Mick, "I'm going inside, okay? It may sting a little, but it won't for long." Ken said, "O-okay, honey." Mick sighed from the throbbing. Ken lifted up the garter belt and placed his boner inside his boyfriend's nice, tight ass. They both were wearing makeup. Ken felt Mick's sweet spot, and Mick moaned, "B-baby, harder in." Ken moaned, "O-okay, baby, is this your sweet spot?" Mick said, "Y-yes, h-honey." Ken said, "G-god, you feel amazing, you're taking me so well." Ken had put his makeup on after he dried off and came out of the bathroom, and Mick had put his on while Ken was in the shower. Ken's and Mick's eyes started watering, and their mascara ran down their face as Ken continued to thrust inside Mick. Mick and Ken moaned and grunted in pleasure, and Mick held onto Ken's hand, kissing it and sucking on it, leaving him a hickey. Ken moved Mick's hair out of the way and sucked on his neck, making Mick moan. "Aah-Mmm," they moaned in unison. The two moaned, filling the bedroom with their sounds. Ken continued to moan and thrust harder into his boyfriend, and Mick screamed in pleasure as Ken sucked on his neck and moaned louder. The blonde was getting closer to his climax, and after two more thrusts, Ken became soft and took himself out of his boyfriend. Mick wasn't ready to stop, and neither was Ken. He took his fingers, stuck them in the lube, and lubricated them before inserting them into Mick's tight ass. Mick moaned out, "Y-you f-feel a-amazing." Ken moaned, "Y-you a-are taking m-me s-so well, h-honey." They continued to moan, and Ken began to stroke Mick's hard penis. They both moaned with pleasure. He then took his fingers out of Mick, and Mick knew how to make Kenneth hard again. Mick took his hand and placed it on Ken's crotch, rubbing him. Ken moaned and started to grow, and Mick smiled at Ken and bent down. Ken smiled and laughed, saying, "I love you, my dear." Mick smiled and said, "I love you too, my sweetheart." Ken went inside Mick one more time, thrusting and stroking him with one hand, while he placed the other on his hips. Mick's and Ken's moans filled the room again. The two were close to their climax, and eventually, they reached their highs and both came. Ken got off of Mick and let him go, and Mick got up and laid on his pillow. Ken did the same thing. Ken smiled and said, "I bet you won't forget this day." Mick smiled and said, "You know I won't; it was the best. You were amazing, sweetheart." Ken smiled and said, "Thank you, sweetheart; you took me in so well." The two kissed, and Kenneth held Mick close, smiling and saying to him, "Good night, my baby boy; sweet dreams." Mick smiled back and said, "Good night, baby; sweet dreams." They both kissed and drifted off to sleep.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 1984 Two Plus Two Equals? Chapter 1: Two Plus Two Equals? Two Plus Two Equals? Disclaimer: Well, I'm not George Orwell, so you know the drill: I don't own 1984. As Winston gazed with loving reverence at the huge face and its burning dark eyes, he heard, vaguely, a click behind him. The cocking of a shotgun. Finally, he thought with a slight shudder. Finally, they are going to shoot me. Halfway across the city, Julia, too, was gazing with intense love at a picture of Big Brother, and behind her, too, was the sound of a gun being cocked. She didn't even hear it, being too engrossed in her final and utter triumph over herself. And then something began to change. From somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, a voice whispered, Winston. Winston's finger in the dust had traced the equation "2 + 2" and he smiled, preparatory for his ultimate triumph over himself, for his finger to trace the number 5 in the dust before he, himself, was eradicated forever. Big Brother's dark eyes bored into his—his finger moved—behind him, from another telescreen, O'Brien was smiling, a fierce, triumphant smile utterly unlike the O'Brien Winston had known. Then, suddenly, unbidden, a voice from within him murmured, Julia. And Big Brother's features melted away, and he could see her, staring at him, too, not as she had once looked, young and fresh, but infinitely old and weary, with dark pockets under her eyes and streaks of white in her brown hair. Her eyes widened, as did his. There was an explosion from behind both of them. Winston's finger traced a number in the dust. Somehow, his posture must have changed slightly, for the self-satisfied smile was wiped off O'Brien's face, and he cried, "Wait!" But it was too late. No matter what the human mind may believe, no human agency can possibly stop a bullet after it has been fired, before it encounters resistance. In this case, the only resistance was Winston's back. He slumped over the table, the light gone from his eyes. The assassin ran over to Winston's body, turned to O'Brien. "What is it, sir?" he exclaimed. "The heretic is dead." "What's that he's written there in the dust?" cried O'Brien. Somehow, he knew something was wrong. "Well, sir, it says—" the man bent over it. "Well, sir, it says '2 + 2 = 4.' Funny time for him to be doing arithmetic, if you ask me." But O'Brien's face was clouded over with a dark fury. "How?" he shrieked. "How did he do it! That girl—Julia! Is she dead?" Yes, she was dead. A spark of light no one could see hovered tentatively above her slumped body. It grew and assumed the shape she had had before it had all happened, before the Thought Police had discovered her and Winston. Winston? Julia's spirit called. I'm here. I think. He was, too. Brushing translucent hands through translucent hair, the way he always used to. Where are we? she asked. She felt bewildered. We're dead. The answer was blunt; she blinked and looked around. They were standing together in the Chestnut Tree Café, next to a limp form that might once have been Winston Smith. Is that you? Not anymore. Now this is me. We're safe, at last. O'Brien can't do anything more to us. You and I were right—a little. But I betrayed you. You betrayed me. Not entirely. She laughed mirthlessly. What are you talking about? You would have let me be stripped to the bone by rats—I would have let them break your neck… Yes, but obviously the betrayal cannot have been whole-hearted on either of our parts. How do you figure that? Winston had always been the idealist, of course, she thought. This seemed more of his idealism. My dear girl, do you think we could have conquered O'Brien and the others, even at the very end, without each other's help? I saw you—did you— Yes. I saw you, too. He was right; suddenly she knew he was right. Oh, Winston. She flung her arms around him, and he was there, as solid as he had ever been before. Tears came to her eyes. Where do we go from here? I don't know. Ah. Winston. Julia. Please follow me. They looked around. Staring at them, eyes smiling behind ghostly spectacles, was the wraith-like figure of Emmanuel Goldstein. Where are we going? Goldstein waved his hand. Away. Just—away. What about the world? It was Winston, of course. Julia had never found the strength to worry about more than her immediate problems. It isn't your concern, anymore. At least, not for now. What do you mean? Have you ever heard of Guardian Angels? Winston shrugged, his arm still around Julia. Aren't they the people with wings on Christmas cards? Not quite. They are what allowed you to see Julia at your death. It requires an extensive period of training to become one. Winston straightened, and Julia knew, with a sigh, death hadn't cured him of his idealism; though it had been buried by layers of tortured pain in the human, it was back. I should very much like that, Winston ventured. Very well. Follow me, you two. Goldstein smiled again and beckoned. He began to walk away, but suddenly turned as though remembering something. Oh, and Winston—even in Heaven two plus two equals four. With a deepening grin on each of their faces, Julia and Winston followed him.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: anime2 Chapter 1 A little boy, about four years old, ran down an alleyway as the dark world around him erupted in red and orange hues. The heavy footsteps of military boots could be heard behind him. His soft, brown baby hair flew behind him as he ran. The young, nameless boy then managed to evade the soldiers by sliding into a tight corner with a tunnel. It was a place where homeless people would hide from the military, which now ruled the world. The world had been at war for fifty years, and the leaders were corrupt and bloodthirsty. They sent out the military to take the best young boys from orphanages and the streets to create super soldiers. This decree sparked an all-out civil war, as citizens tried to protect the young children from such horrific treatment. Even if a civilian was caught trying to hide a boy, they would be seen as traitors to the country and publicly executed. The young boy hid behind a barrel as one of the soldiers tried to shine his flashlight down the small crack to see if he had gone that way. The young boy had to stand on his tiptoes and avoid the light to prevent casting a shadow. The soldier shot a bullet down the tunnel to try and scare him out. Once the soldier was satisfied, he and his crew decided to move on and search elsewhere. The boy finally had a chance to catch his breath. As the soldiers left, the boy's ears picked up on a small voice crying in sheer pain. He looked toward the sound and walked back to the end of the alleyway. There, he found a naked, small boy with long brown hair draped around his small frame. The boy looked up as the other boy approached. The bullet had grazed his cheek, which hurt and scared him. The other boy noticed a number, 02, on this small boy's hip. He had a similar number, 01, and was also naked at the moment. He had just escaped from a laboratory when a group of soldiers on the side of the children set them free and told them to run and hide while they fought off the enemy. Unfortunately, most of the people who had helped them were gunned down and were no match for the military. 01 bent down, reached out his hand, and said, "Come on, child, I will help you." When 02 looked up at 01, he seemed like an angel, perhaps due to the lights around them or the loss of blood. To 02, this boy looked like an angel, despite being the same size and age. 01 heard the footsteps of the enemy returning and said, "Hurry, 02, we will run away together." 02 sniffled, slid his chubby hand into 01's, and let him help him up. The two ran off down a long, stone corridor where homeless people would hide. The place seemed abandoned, except for these two small boys. 01 took 02 to a hideaway in the homeless hallway that had blankets and a pump for water. 01 laid 02 down on a bed on the floor and got some water to clean the child's wounds. 02 moaned in pain, closed his eyes, and turned his head in protest. "Hold still, 02, this is for your own good," 01 commanded. Eventually, 01 was able to clean the wound well enough. For the first time in their lives, they found comfort in each other. 02 cried to 01, telling him how scared and confused he was and that he didn't know who his mother or father was. All he knew was a closed-off room where they would poke and prod him with painful needles and make him cry. 01 hugged 02 and told him it would be okay and that he would always protect him from then on. "Really, how can you do that? You're just like me," 02 pointed out as they cuddled together on the mattress. "Because I am not entirely like you, that's why I will be able to protect you," 01 said, thinking this was perfectly reasonable logic. "I am stronger and faster than you. Also, because I want to. You're so pretty; someone should protect you." 01 said, pushing some of 02's hair out of his eyes, and all of this came completely naturally to him. 02 blinked when 01 pushed his hair out of his eyes and said, "Okay, well, I'll always protect you too." 02 smiled, which was really cute, despite the horrible gash on his face near his left eye. "I want to stay with you always, 01. You promise we will be together forever and always?" "I promise you, 02, I will always be with you, and I will always come to you, always, forever and ever," 01 said, and 02 giggled together. Then, they eventually fell asleep, only to wake up from their heavenly night together to a nightmare of the military men barging into their little hideaway. 01 and 02 tried to hold onto each other as tightly as they could, but the men were shouting at them to let go. They both tried to hold on to each other, but they were too weak at such a young age. It took the four men two hours to pry them apart. 01 and 02 watched each other helplessly as they were taken in different directions. 01 was brainwashed, forced to forget about 02, because it would ruin his focus on the missions they wanted their perfect weapon to complete. The same thing happened to 02. Both were then changed into Heero Yuy, Pilot 01 of Wing Zero, and Duo Maxwell, Pilot 02 of Deathscythe. Until they reunited at fifteen, they had no clue who the other was. The brainwashing did nothing to stop Heero and Duo's feelings for each other. Now that they were both ultimate fighting weapons, no one, not even their creators, could touch them. They had been free to be in love and complete their missions without being bothered. They fought hard in the wars, trying to carve out a form of peace. They knew it would always be an uphill battle, even after the Endless Waltz battle, their skills were always needed to help protect the world from evil. Dear Heero, April 20th, After Colony 1910 Lying in my darkness, feeling numb, though as I feel numb, all the pain rushes through my being, through my soul. I shiver as I lay here on my side, void of clothes, though the darkness surrounds me, I feel vulnerable to the judging eyes that I can see. They can't really see me, yet they ever stare. Ever, their voice speaks to my ear as cold, pointless words that have no real meaning to me. I shiver as I lay here with my black wings splayed out from my nude back, brown chestnut locks tumbling down my back, like a wave falling over the cold black lake that my frame lay on. The lake was once a frozen white lake, now turned to black from my tears, from my black blood that has been trickling from the place where my heart once was. In place of my heart is an empty void. Ever since the day I entrusted you with my heart, foolishly, I did this blindly, little did I know that this would be a fatal mistake to ever trust another. Now I lay here, cold, alone, and helpless, bleeding out. I have been bleeding out for an age; I do not know light. I do not know love; all I know is to bleed out alone. I have not found a reason; no reason has found me. Long, long, long, I lay here in a timeless room that will never be remembered. I shall never be found. I shall always be laying here in hell, to bleed out upon the ground. Ever on and on, the blood rushes; ever on and on, the blood gushes, creating this black lake of forgotten love, of drowned and destroyed hope. Where Trust has sunk into the depths to never be seen again. I cry a frozen tear drop that falls to the black lake, to crack upon the surface, causing black diamonds to sprinkle over the lake, making a clinking, joyful sound in this non-joyful place. I am still breathing; I still look toward where the sky might be, though in this utter darkness, there is no horizon. My senses have been dampened. Even so, my now-dulled amethyst gaze still holds to the sky, as if there is a shadow, a hollowed haunting of what perhaps hope might be. Clinging on to your deep blue gaze, that ever seems to look down on me, through all the judging eyes I do not heed. The eyes are the only ones I care to see; your judgment upon me is the only one I care to hear. Your face, your voice, is the only one that will save me. I shall stay here, waiting till the day you find me, where I have been beaten and battered, where I fought for you, for us, for our love. All I wanted was to be with you and happy, forever. You and I were stolen apart, ripped away by time and age, by lifetime after lifetime, through the swirling vortex in space. We have been separated, my love, yet I feel you always, watching over me with those big, bright blue eyes. I hear your voice calling to me; I have heard your words now for nearly an endless age. The sound has driven me out of my mind; I am lost without my other half. I am one part of a whole; when we are together, we are the perfect whole. Tell me, then, harmony shall stay chaotic; the earth will fade; the stars will blow away... Until the day we are allowed to be reunited once more. Love Always, Duo Maxwell This is the note Heero Yuy had kept on his person for three years, as he had to go complete this mission that stole him away from Duo. Heero knew that this would be hard; even Heero, with all his knowledge, was not completely prepared for how hard it would truly be to not be with Duo for so long. No training could prepare him for this. Heero came into the bedroom where Duo lay sleeping, now restrained for his own protection. Heero had re-read the note, sitting on Duo's hospital bed; Duo had gotten mentally scarred for the last time, three years ago, as well, after Heero had left him to go on this mission. Duo was like a waiting, loyal puppy, ever watching and waiting, looking out the bedroom window for any signs of Wing Zero to come home. Duo had driven himself mad; Heero would not allow Duo to follow him, Heero made Duo stay for Duo's protection. Because Heero would never be able to live with himself if anything should take Duo from him, even if he himself had to take himself from Duo for the better of all. Quatre had reported to him that Duo had tried on more than one occasion to kill himself and had come to believe that Heero would never come back or that he was dead. Quatre told Heero that Duo pretty much drove himself insane, so that's why they kept him on a vigilant watch. Quatre told Heero that he better never do this to Duo again. Heero felt terrible; he never wanted Duo to be like this, but he himself had suffered greatly at having to be split up from his love, from the one he knew he needed the most. Quatre also told Heero that Duo tried to make the most of it, to go on day to day, but his love for Heero had driven him crazy because he couldn't control himself without him. Heero reached down to Duo's sleeping face, brushed away the bangs, bent down, and kissed him on his cheek. The room Duo was in was made special for him so he couldn't hurt himself. Heero noticed Duo was crying and whimpering in his sleep. Heero frowned at this; it made his heart feel like a cold, icy dagger had been stabbed through it. He not only did this to Duo, but he had really devastated himself. Heero wanted to make Duo stop; he undid Duo's binds and slid his arms under Duo's body, pulling him into his frame. "Shhh, I am here now," Heero soothed into Duo's ear, kissing him on his temple. "Duo, sweetheart, wake up; it's over now." Heero didn't realize it, but tears were running down his own face. Duo woke up when his body was moved; he felt as if he had been scooped up out of his dark, drowning despair. Heero watched as Duo's brilliant purple eyes opened to gaze upon his face. "Heero?" Duo's voice was thick with sleep. "Is it really you?" Duo wondered, pushing some of his hair out of his face. His being seemed as if it had been lost in a three-year winter, so he wasn't as peppy as he could be, as Heero once remembered. Heero answered Duo by giving him a crushing, bruising kiss that said everything Duo needed to know. That it was okay, everything was okay now. "It's okay, Duo Baby; it's okay now; it's okay," Heero cried into Duo's lips. Duo felt Heero's warm tears soaking his cheeks. Duo managed to compose himself. "It's okay for you too, Heero Sama; it's okay if you are here too," he said, as Heero held Duo's beautiful face in his hands and gave him chaste kiss after chaste kiss. "Yes, I am really here, Duo; no more will I separate from you; no more will I do this to us," Heero said, pulling Duo into his body even more, if that was even possible. Heero began a long kissing session; Duo kissed him back, and they stayed lip to lip for a long time, as if this was the only thing they needed to breathe, each other. Heero then proceeded to make love with Duo for the rest of that day; they only left the bed to have supper and then a bath, which they made love in as well. It was a beautiful, long, sweet love that seemed to re-establish their bond, to strengthen it. With every kiss to Duo's lips, cheek, eyes, chin, and neck, Heero was giving Duo's body a silent oath that he was his from now on. With every caressing touch of his fingertips, it told Duo that these fingers were done with battle, done with killing; all these fingers and hands were left to do now was to please and pleasure him. Duo could feel all of what Heero was saying through his touch, through his kiss, through each thrust of his hips as they became one, as Heero slid deep into Duo's world, sending them both into a pleasure realm that was only made for the two of them. It was a lovely hidden place in their minds. That entire day, the world was only Heero and Duo, which is what they really always wished for, to have it only be the two of them, forever. The world did not work this way, so they savored this time, this day, to remember for always, their first reunion, where Heero had no plans to ever leave Duo's side again. They fell to sleep in happy, harmonizing bliss, together; Duo actually slept without crying, as he lay fitting perfectly with Heero's naked body. They fit together like a puzzle piece, even more perfect, if that was possible. For the first time in what felt like an age, they could sleep peacefully together; they fell to sleep, lip to lip, with smiles upon their faces.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 2-Broke-Girls And The Other Half Chapter 1: And The Other Half My intention for this study break was to update one of my works-in-progress, but this came out instead, since I hadn't written for this show since the first season and since I just got a very nice review on one of my previous one-shots. So here it is, another little introspective piece from Max's point of view that takes place during or shortly after "And The Kickstarter." I don't own anything. When Max said that Caroline was the only person in the world that she wasn't sick of, she was telling the truth, and when it came to Max Black, the truth wasn't something that came out that often. Lying was her defense mechanism. She made up or elaborated on uncomfortable details about her past to come across as tough or experienced, or someone who one shouldn't get close to, because getting close to someone made you a part of something. But Max found herself caring anyway. Caroline wasn't a family member or a potential boyfriend, or someone who society deemed required to be close to. Max had offered Caroline a place to stay because the woman was lost, but both of them were realizing that Caroline was still there because she'd found – or rather, stumbled across – something greater than her need to make it on her own. It was something small, but something that they both recognized, even if they went about their days not acknowledging it. Max began to realize their role in each other's lives when Caroline and Andy's relationship shorted out due to Max being the only person Caroline was envisioning being in touch with long-term. Her vision of the future didn't include her love life, it didn't include her making it on her own, it didn't include her being front and center. Caroline didn't see any future beyond Max's Homemade Cupcakes. She didn't fantasize about breaking away and being thrust into the spotlight and succeeding whether Max was there or not. Caroline Channing was going to succeed with Max Black, or she wasn't going to succeed at all. Max was wanted – Max was needed – for the first time in her life. It scared her, because it meant that she'd let Caroline in, it meant that she had done exactly what she'd told Caroline not to do when they'd first met, and gotten attached, and it meant that the two of them had each seen something in each other that they had grown to be unable to do without. Max supposed she was too close to the puzzle to understand what it was about her that had attracted Caroline, but she was so grateful that something about her made the blonde woman want to stay. She supposed, with her track record of being left behind and Caroline being abandoned by her friends once she was no longer wealthy, that they were both the first real thing the other one had ever had. People in love spoke of their romantic partner as their other half. Max was beginning to realize that your other half didn't have to be a husband or a girlfriend, but anyone that you found who knew your flaws and still loved you, that could do things that only didn't annoy you because it was them, and who put their relationship with you over any other potential success. And for her, that person was Caroline Channing. So when Max looked across the room at Caroline and said, "You are the only person in the entire world I am not sick of," she was telling the truth. She didn't need to put up her defenses and lie. She didn't need to push Caroline away by making her uncomfortable. She didn't need to try and prevent herself from becoming a part of something. She couldn't try to stop herself from becoming something she already was. Max Black had somehow become half of a whole. And until she met Caroline, she'd firmly believed that she wasn't ever meant to be a part of something. Being a piece of a larger whole meant give and take, it meant believing in someone, and it meant someone believing in you. Max had never been comfortable with that kind of relationship, and it showed. She had no friends, and it was partly her fault because she pushed people away, and partly the fault of her upbringing, when no one stayed around and when the few people she'd reluctantly let in thought that 'giving and receiving' meant that Max gave and they received. Everyone had their dreams, and everyone was only concerned with how Max could be the stepping stone to those dreams. That was the way it was when she was growing up. That was the way it was when she had tried to go to college. Based on that evidence, Max had assumed that it was the way of the world. And then Caroline Channing came prancing into her life, with her loud voice and over-articulate way of speaking, and her ability to be cheerful beyond reason, only to fall into a terrible depression just as she was managing to convince Max that maybe things weren't as bad as the brunette had painted them to be. Her willingness to prove herself capable of adjusting to any situation contradicted with her need for pants that cost more than a thousand dollars. Max never knew if a setback was going to set Caroline afire with determination to improve or leave Max with the responsibility of giving a pep talk.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 2-Broke-Girls Max Black's Sink Struggle! *Chapter 1: Max Black's Sink Struggle!* Max Black was in her apartment one afternoon, doing the washing up in the sink, when she accidentally swept her hand across a twenty-dollar bill on the worktop, causing it to fall down the drain. Fortunately, she was able to grab it just in time after sticking her right hand down the drain. The curvaceous young brunette, who was wearing a black sweater and a pair of extremely tight, dark blue short shorts, said, "Oh my god, I almost lost my twenty bucks! I need to be more careful next time." As she tried to pull out her hand, she was absolutely shocked to discover that she couldn't. Max's eyes grew extremely wide as she said, "You have to be kidding me! Please tell me I'm not stuck here." She then grabbed onto her right arm with her left arm and pulled with all her strength, even putting her left foot against the sink for more leverage. Unfortunately, her hand simply wouldn't budge, and she was hit with the realization that she was, in fact, completely and utterly stuck. The young woman said, "Oh, it's just no use, I'm stuck." She couldn't believe that her hand was actually stuck in the drain and thought about calling her roommate, Caroline, for help. However, she remembered that her phone was on the kitchen table, just slightly out of her reach. She realized that she would just have to wait until Caroline came back and decided to get herself comfortable because she knew she wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Max spent another fifteen minutes unsuccessfully trying to pull and wiggle her hand free again, following a brief rest during which she ate a banana to regain her strength. She suddenly heard a voice behind her say, "Max, I'm home." Her roommate had just returned, walked into the kitchen, and burst into laughter when she saw the situation. Caroline, a slightly less curvaceous young blonde, thanks to her lack of large breasts, who was wearing a pink t-shirt and denim jeans, said, "Oh my god, Max, I don't believe your hand is stuck in there! This seems like something that would usually happen to me. Why can't you just pull it out?" The young brunette explained the situation, and her roommate said, "Max, I know it's definitely difficult, but you need to let go of the money to get your hand out of there." Max replied, "Caroline, I really need that twenty bucks. Now, grab onto my hips and pull." The young blonde said, "Fine, but you're paying for dinner tonight," as she then grabbed onto her roommate's hips and pulled with all her strength. The young woman said, "OW, Ouch, OW, that really hurts! Come on, Caroline, put your back into it, because it's not moving." Caroline said, "I am putting my back into it! This is ridiculous. Just let go of the money," as she suddenly lost her grip and tumbled backwards onto the floor. The young blonde said, "Oh, it's just no good. Your hand just simply won't budge. I'm really sorry I hurt you. I guess I don't know my own strength. What do you want me to do now?" As she looked up, she saw that she had accidentally pulled down her roommate's short shorts. She then began laughing when she saw that Max's bubble butt was barely covered by light blue panties with tiny puppies on them. She quickly drew a smiley face on them and took a picture. Max turned around and said, "I don't believe you pulled down my shorts! Did you seriously just draw a smiley face on my underwear?" Caroline said, "Yep, and I suggest you behave, or I'll go and get my special toys and take advantage of your big ass." Max quickly agreed, because she couldn't tell if Caroline was actually just kidding. The young blonde said, "Max, I think I have another idea." She then grabbed some butter out of the fridge and began rubbing it all over the young brunette's wedged hand. She grabbed onto her hips again and said, "Max, when I say pull, pull with all your strength." Max quickly grabbed onto her right hand again, and Caroline said, "Pull," as the two pulled, tugged, and heaved with all their strength. The young woman said, "OW, Ouch, OW, that really hurts, but keep pulling, because it's definitely working," as the epic tug of war with the drain continued until suddenly, a loud POP sound was heard. Max's hand was pulled from the drain at last, sending the two tumbling backwards into a heap on the floor. The now very relieved young brunette said, "Oh my god, it's free! My hand is finally free, and I still have my twenty bucks," as she then realized that she had accidentally landed on top of her poor roommate and quickly helped her back to her feet before hugging her and saying thank you for rescuing her. The young blonde said, "It was absolutely no problem. I needed some exercise this week anyway. Nice panties, by the way, especially the smiley face – very cute," as she began laughing. Max then remembered that her underwear was still showing and quickly pulled up her shorts, beginning to laugh too, as the two then sat down to watch some TV and have something to eat together after all their efforts. The End.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: harry_potter Chapter 1 This is an Ahyes, aHP fic, featuring a Lucius/Narcissa pairing with mild violence later on. It is an AU story, so please enjoy. Also, a phone comes up later on – that's one of my ideas. I figured that wizards and witches have got to keep in contact somehow when one is out, and since apparition isn't precise, they can't use that, so I added cell phones in. Ah, yes, and "thoughts" – just a note on that. Narcissa had two children, a daughter and a son. Well, at least Lucius would be pleased – he got his son. Taking them both, one in each arm, Narcissa gazed at her children. Her son had received her emerald eyes, which now showed confusion, and Lucius' light blonde hair. He was rather energetic, Narcissa admitted to herself, but perfect nonetheless. She sighed at the thought and turned to look at her little daughter. She too had inherited Lucius' light blonde hair, but she also possessed the stormy gray eyes of her father. Looking at her, Narcissa couldn't help but smile – she was perfect, too. "She's a mini-Lucius!" The random thought made Narcissa giggle. The daughter, whom Lucius would knowingly despise, was a perfect copy of him – something Lucius had probably wanted to happen to their son. The little boy started to cry, having been frightened by Narcissa's giggles. Narcissa rocked him slowly, smiling at the crying toddler. "Shhhh, it's all right, Mommy's here. Shhhh." Deciding that he was probably cranky, Narcissa rose from the bed and headed towards the large green crib near the window to put the two in bed. True, the two of them had known Narcissa would have more than one child, but Lucius had insisted upon a single crib. He had mentioned something about "cluttering up the house" at the notion of having two cribs. Nevertheless, the crib was big enough for both children. It also could rock back and forth, making Narcissa's job a little easier. Chapter 2 Well, chapter 2 already. After this, the story will probably jump ahead a few months or years; otherwise, I'll be writing 1000 chapters! Anyway, no one noticed I accidentally left this first paragraph out the first time I posted, so I had to fix it and then repost it. Lucius shrugged, not noticing his daughter's expression, and headed for the door, but Narcissa grabbed him by his hair, pulling him back. "Oh no, on the way up, I told you if you woke them, you'd get to put them back to sleep." Lucius pulled his hair free from Narcissa's hand and gave her a "you're crazy" look. "But—" He began, but Narcissa cut him off. "NO BUTS! Sit down." Narcissa motioned towards the rocking chair in the corner. Lucius reluctantly sat down, knowing Narcissa was not about to budge on the matter. Narcissa put both children in his arms, one in each. Lucius shook his head and slowly rocked the chair back and forth, insulted that Narcissa expected him to be a "mother" to these children. Rocking infants to sleep was a woman's work! Narcissa sat down on the chair next to him, smiling. "So, what are we going to call them? I'm getting tired of saying 'son' and 'daughter'." Lucius sneered at her. "So why didn't you name them?" "Because I figured you wouldn't like it if I named your heir something like Floppy!" Narcissa retorted. Lucius nodded. "Good point." They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the wails of the small boy. "Peru for the boy," Lucius finally said. "It figures you'd come up with something exotic sounding yet elegant. I like it," Narcissa commented. Lucius smiled, a superior look on his face. "And for the girl, Lucius?" Lucius scoffed, then responded, "Taya." Narcissa gave him a funny look. "Taya?" Lucius simply nodded. "Peru comes from dragon, obviously. It's a fierce name for a boy, but you wouldn't name a girl after a dragon or another animal like that, so I went with flowers. 'Taya' means peach blossom, but it's a guy's name, so change the 'o' to an 'a' and you get Taya." Narcissa sighed. "I should know not to ask by now..." Lucius sneered back in a show of superiority and deposited the now-quiet twins back in their crib. Smiling as he led Narcissa from the room, the pair retired to bed, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep in before one of the two got hungry again. Days seemed to fly by after the initial first night. Narcissa often found herself waking up moments before Peru's cries would awaken her. It was always Peru who woke her or Lucius up, either because he was hungry or needed his diaper changed. Taya, on the other hand, preferred to stay quiet, seeming to know that her brother would wake up one of their parents, who would feed or change them both, and that she needn't waste her voice screaming as well, since her brother was quite loud enough to do it himself. Instead, Taya seemed to be perfecting her various faces and then she progressed onto rude gestures. Narcissa almost dropped Taya in shock when the infant girl stuck her tongue out at her brother. As the days passed, more of their unique personalities developed. Peru was always hungry and seemed to have a never-ending ache for food, especially warm milk. His screams were so loud that Narcissa could be standing down the street and she would still hear him. Peru loved to be held and rocked to sleep by his mother and would scream until he got his way. He was obviously very attached to his mother, his "food source." However, Peru seemed frightened of his father for some reason. Perhaps it was the smirk Lucius seemed to wear every day that frightened the small boy, but nevertheless, Peru almost never fell asleep in his father's arms after that first night. Peru also seemed to be slightly chubbier than his sister, even though they were the same weight at birth, and Narcissa attributed this to his vast intake of milk. His hair had grown in a bit more and had darkened slightly, to where it was almost a perfect mix of Narcissa's and Lucius' hair colors. His emerald eyes were always inquisitive and held an inner light that was satisfied by exploration. Taya was the quieter of the two, almost never crying or fussing. It seemed as if the action was beneath her, something reserved for lower-class life forms, and she would not lower herself to that level. Taya ate a normal amount of food, never eating half as much as her younger brother. Her facial expressions had grown more detailed, and she was now adding hand and tongue gestures as well. Taya didn't seem to mind being held by her mother, except when her noisy brother was in the other arm. She preferred peace and quiet, shying away from her brother and his loud mouth. She also seemed to prefer her father's company more, perhaps because he never tried to shush her or sing her to sleep. Taya often drifted off to sleep in various uncomfortable positions in her father's arms that never ceased to amaze Narcissa. Taya's light hair had grown even lighter as it grew to match the exact shade of Lucius'. Her stormy eyes seemed to always be filled with cynical or sarcastic comments she wished to voice, most often directed towards her "stupid little brother" or "infernal woman" of a mother, as she called them. Taya never seemed to have any problems with her beloved father. Although their personalities were vastly different, Narcissa found that she loved the two equally and found out that, if she was ever put into a situation where she could only keep one, she would be unable to make a decision. The same, however, could not be said for Lucius, who, from the start, automatically preferred his son to his daughter. Although he was more like Taya in personality and looks, her gender steered him away from her and made him focus on his son, the family's heir. If both of the children had been boys, then Lucius might have shied away from Peru and preferred Taya, her having more of the qualities he preferred. But, alas, this was not the case, so Taya was often shoved into her mother's arm while Peru spent his hours in his father's, mostly crying in fear. As days turned to weeks, Narcissa began to wonder when her children's "first sign of magical power" would appear. With them being her first, she had no idea of the average time it would take, and all of the books seemed to have neglected it for some reason. It was three weeks after they arrived that the first sign for one appeared. It had been a long day of hard work for Lucius, and coming home to two crying twins and a stressed-out Narcissa didn't improve Lucius' day. Again and again, the twins woke him and Narcissa up throughout the night, more often than any other previous day. By two in the morning, both had given up even trying to go back to bed and had sat down in the two chairs in the nursery, one child apiece. Chapter 3 Yes, Chapter 3 already. Normally, I can't write this many chapters in a short amount of time because: 1. I get bored with writing the "filler" chapters before the real drama starts. 2. I get hooked on a video game and can't stop. 3. I'm too tired from school and work to write anything. 4. I have no time. 5. I get another idea for a new fanfiction and I start writing some of that instead of writing on one of my previous stories. Anyway, here's Chapter 3. Time seemed to fly by for Narcissa with no major incidents after Taya's magical ability display. It was another two months before Peru's own showed up, one of the stuffed toys levitating during one of the rare moments he was sleeping. Taya had given him a condemning look, as if to say, "Well, it took you long enough." Lucius seemed pleased, Narcissa had noted, but also slightly bothered by the fact that it had taken him this long. He seemed to agree with Taya's "comment." "Like father, like daughter," Narcissa told herself. After that, however, life became rather boring since nothing new seemed to happen. The twins were babbling nonsense to each other, not that they understood each other, and sometimes it got on Narcissa's nerves. Taya had spoken for real for the first time at eight months during a cold winter's night in November. It was a rather bland night: Lucius and Narcissa both sitting in the study, Lucius buried in paperwork from the Ministry, and Narcissa shifting through the mail, while Taya and Peru sat upon the floor within watchful gaze, playing with toys. Taya was playing with one of the little wooden trains with movable wheels when Peru decided he wanted it. He grabbed the toy and tried to pull it away from his sister, but Taya held on fast. They started to have a mini tug-o-war over the toy. Peru was using both hands to try and pull that toy, but Taya only held it with her right hand. Narcissa looked up from her letters to watch the scene. It appeared as if— Chapter 4 Chapter 4 now! I'm on a roll! As long as I'm having fun writing this, the chapters will come quickly! If anyone has questions about the story, post them in your reviews, and I'll answer them, if I can (don't wanna spoil things). On Christmas morning, Narcissa was awoken at ten past six by one of the house-elves, a female named Fenna. Groggily muttering, Narcissa managed to sit up in bed and ask the creature just why it had woken her up. Cowering slightly and bowing in apology, Fenna began to speak in a shaky, high-pitched voice, stopping everyone once in a while to bow again. "Fenna is sorry for waking the mistress up, but young Miss Taya has snuck out of her crib and is making a mess downstairs. Fenna and Daisy tried to stop the young miss, but she slammed us across the room with the baseball bat gift for young sir Peru, still in wrapping. Every time one of us gets close, we get smacked, and Fenna did not think the mistress would appreciate us using a magic binding spell on young Miss Taya. She's tearing the lights and ornaments off the tree and ripping off the wrapping paper." Narcissa threw the covers off her and jumped out of bed, barely taking the time to grab her robe before running down the stairs. Upon entering the room with the decorated Christmas tree, Narcissa froze and glanced around. Several presents were unwrapped, the wrapping paper having been tied around a few of the house-elves who had bothered Taya in her quest. The bottom branches of the tree were deprived of ornaments, which were now either scattered on the floor or stuck to the house-elves. Seven elves, four male and three female, had been wrapped by Taya in the paper, and three were sporting ornaments as well. All of them looked uncomfortable. Taya herself was sitting in the room's center, tossing some of the squiggly Styrofoam things from one of the boxes around with one hand, while the other held Peru's still-wrapped baseball bat, posed to attack. "Taya, NO!" Narcissa shouted and rushed over towards her. Pulling the bat from her hands, Narcissa set it down on the coffee table and scooped up Taya. "You're not supposed to open them YET, and you shouldn't wrap the elves up." Narcissa told Taya, then added to herself, "Although I will admit, it is quite funny." Sighing at the mess, Narcissa removed her wand from the robe pocket and unwrapped the house-elves, but not before snapping a few pictures of the entire scene with her camera. Then she rewrapped the gifts and put the ornaments back on the tree. Shaking her head, Narcissa climbed the stairs, Taya still in her arms. The little girl was pouting. Narcissa entered the nursery and set Taya back down in her crib. "Now, no more sneaking out of bed." Taya frowned and told Narcissa, "NO!" Narcissa grimaced, "Go back to sleep, Taya." Taya sneered in response, stuck out her tongue at her mother, and blew a raspberry. Narcissa growled softly at Taya's rude behavior. Holding a finger up in a scolding manner, she reprimanded Taya. "You know that's not nice! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?" Taya put on her "thinking face" for a few moments, then replied, "Shut up, stupid woman!" Narcissa almost fell over at the comment. Taya was truly just like Lucius! That would have been just what he would have said. Sighing, Narcissa gave up and walked towards the door, holding her head and muttering, "As if one Lucius wasn't enough of a headache, now I've got two of him!" Not watching anything but the floor, she bumped into Lucius, who had also been woken up by Fenna. Narcissa looked at him and second, then shook her head and walked past him, heading back towards the bedroom. Lucius waited until he heard the bedroom door shut before sauntering over to the crib, a smile on his face. "Dame onna no ko?" Taya turned up towards him, her face saying, "And that's not good?" Lucius laughed slightly and scuffed Taya on the head before walking back out with the last comment of, "Go to bed." Smiling slightly, Taya laid her head back down on the pillow and drifted back off to dreamland. A few hours later, once Narcissa's headache had receded, all four members of the Malfoy family were downstairs by the Christmas tree, the gifts unwrapped and spread around the floor. Taya and Peru had received numerous toys, among them the baseball bat Taya had used earlier, a baseball, a bouncy ball covered in stars, two toy brooms, numerous dolls, tons of stuffed animals, a few tapes and DVDs of the twins' favorite shows, a few games, and much, much more. As lunchtime neared, Narcissa left Peru and Taya to play while Lucius watched them, and she went to help the house elves with the meal. Lucius cast a single look at the twins before picking up the latest edition of The Daily Prophet and immersing himself in an article on page 5. Taya picked up Peru's baseball bat, a devilish idea forming in her head. Peru sat in front of her, a chocolate egg with raspberry filling sitting on the ground in front of him. Taya had already eaten hers, but Peru was simply staring at his. She raised the bat high above her head, but quickly put it down when Lucius looked her way. Taya smiled, and Lucius could see the little "halo" floating above her head. However, the second he went back to the article, red horns appeared under the halo, revealing they were the only reason it was held up. In cartoons, a character is often depicted with a halo above their head, symbolizing a "little innocent angel." However, Taya's "halo" was held up by her devil horns, indicating she was a little devil disguised as an angel. Taya raised the bat again and brought it down hard on Peru's egg, causing the jelly inside to be dispelled violently and splash all over Peru, the bat, and the back of Lucius' newspaper. Peru started to wail at the loss of his egg. Quickly, Taya stuck the bat in Peru's hand and went back to innocently playing with her doll, as Lucius turned towards the two. Narcissa charged in from the kitchen, hearing the sound and looked around at the mess. "PERU! Don't hit your food with the bat!" Narcissa scolded, assuming Peru had done it since he was holding the bat. Peru babbled and pointed towards Taya, who looked up at her mother innocently. Narcissa scolded Peru for blaming his sister and took him upstairs to clean him up. Lucius tossed the paper upon the floor and scooped up Taya in his arms. He ordered the house elves to clean up the mess and walked into the dining room, Taya in his arms. Unseen by anyone, Taya smiled wickedly. The title "Dame Onna No Ko" means "Bad Girl," and it was clear why this chapter was titled "Bad Girl, Bad Girl." Narcissa almost fell over at the comment. Taya was truly just like Lucius! That would have been just what he would have said. Sighing, Narcissa gave up and walked towards the door, holding her head and muttering, "As if one Lucius wasn't enough of a headache, now I've got two of him!" Not watching anything but the floor, she bumped into Lucius, who had also been woken up by Fenna. Narcissa looked at him for a second, then shook her head and walked past him, heading back towards the bedroom. Lucius waited until he heard the bedroom door shut before sauntering over to the crib, a smile on his face. "Dame Onna No Ko," he said. Taya turned up towards him, her face saying, "And that's not good?" Lucius laughed slightly and scuffed Taya on the head before walking back out with the last comment, "Go to bed." Smiling slightly, Taya laid her head back down on the pillow and drifted back off to dreamland.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: celebrity Chapter 1: Two Man "After Party" A smear of eye shadow, glittery grey, caught my attention. The glint of silver mascara and gunmetal lipstick on his handsome, pursed lips, combined with opalescent foundation that seemed to glow in the light, left me mesmerized. His ruggedly handsome features had been softened by the femininity of the makeup, and I found it lovely. I stood in the doorway, watching him as he prepared himself in the mirror. He was precise, more so than any woman I had ever seen apply makeup. "Princess, you ready yet?" I asked, trying to rile him up. I knew he hated it when I called him that, and I had to admit, I enjoyed getting a rise out of him. "Don't call me that, Schneider! Besides, you're as painted up as I am," he retorted, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "Yes, but I still look like a man," I said, knowing it wasn't entirely true. I liked to tease him, and he was fucking gorgeous when he was mad. "No, you look like a downtown Berlin dirne... 5 Euro for blowjobs, 20 for a piece of ass," he shot back, his voice rising. Now I was the one who was pissed. "Fuck you, Reesh!" I exclaimed, feeling a surge of anger. But as I looked at him, I couldn't help but think about how much I wanted him. The only time he looked more gorgeous than when his face was freshly made up was when the sweat of our performance had made it all run. I could imagine us fucking each other into a saline frenzy, as I licked the sweat from his face, tasting the fragrance of his eye liner mingled with the salt of passion. God, now I was hard. He stepped into the shower to rinse off the evidence of tonight's performance, while I crashed on the couch. I knew I smelled like a gym locker, but I wasn't about to go in there with him, naked and soapy, enjoying the hot, steamy water caressing his delectable anatomy. God, now I was really fucking hard. I rubbed my aching erection through my shorts, looking around the room. The others would be out for hours, mingling with groupies, and then it would be off to a bar, only popping in at the last minute to gather their things and board the bus to leave. And Richard was known for his 1-2 hour showers. I felt I was pretty safe, so I unzipped my fly. My steely cock popped out of my shorts like a jack-in-the-box. I walked to the dressing table and retrieved a bottle of lotion Richard used after he showered. To touch myself and smell him while I did it was an exciting enough thought to almost make me spray the dressing table without so much as touching my cock at all. I returned to the couch and put some of the lotion on my hand. It was a musky, woodsy scent, with soft floral undertones, the perfect complement to Richard's personality. I began to rub myself slowly, letting the lotion coat my shaft. Once I was well coated, I jerked furiously. The aroma of the lotion filled the air, and I tried to catch each solitary scent molecule, breathing in this manufactured essence of him as my hips began to thrust into my hand. I tightened my grip and imagined it was his tight hole. I was imagining I was fucking him, displaying broadly the passion I had been harboring inside for him for way too long. I was lost in the profane rapture of it all, feeling my impending ecstasy building and building. Soft moans and whimpers escaped my lips as I was so very close. Then I heard a soft chuckle at my feet. Like a speeding car stopped way too fast, I slammed back into reality, to see Richard standing at the edge of the couch. All I wanted to do was melt into a puddle and evaporate before he had a chance to say anything. "No, by all means, continue," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. I gulped, frozen, not knowing what to say or do. "Have you suddenly forgotten how?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. I was still stuck, like a deer in the headlights. He knelt beside the couch, taking my cock into his hand and stroking me slowly. I was amazed by his choice of action. The Richard I knew would have ridiculed me, belittled me, and run off and told the others what he had caught me doing, but this Richard was altogether foreign to me. He kissed and nibbled at my abdomen as his strokes increased in speed and his grip tightened. Sparks of delight ran in a loop from my gut to my balls to my cock, undulating like waves. My cock jerked, warning of my orgasm's arrival. He pressed my erection against my belly, causing the hot, steamy streams of cum to spray my abdomen and chest. I cried out sharply from the unbelievable delight of it. When I had given every drop, he slowly lapped up my seed with the tip of his tongue, not missing a bit. I closed my eyes and reeled from it, so drunken with endorphins that I wondered if it had all been a dream. When I opened my eyes again, Richard was turning me onto my stomach. He nibbled and kissed at my shoulder blades, soft kisses and nips trailing across my shoulders, and down each quivering vertebra of my spine. He reached my ass and began to lick and suck at my lusting opening. He giggled into it as my back arched like a kitten being petted. He took the lotion and lubed me well, inserting two lotioned fingers inside of me, fingering me until I was lubed inside and out. He slithered on top of me, putting his lips by my ear. "I could devour you like a fine buffet, relishing each dish you had to offer," he whispered, nibbling my ear lobe. All at once, "Mein Teil" played in my head, and I quivered. That was not how I had intended, or desired, to take that comment. Then I remembered the video shoot, myself standing at the sidelines while my bandmates wrestled furiously in the mud. I had giggled at the silliness of the others, but not at Richard. I admired his well-trained wrestling skill, and envisioned being pinned and helpless against him as he took me, not-so-much against my will, as he was doing now. He slid into me gently, whispering such dirty little things in my ear. "I couldn't resist helping your satisfaction along. Sex is no fun when it's shared by only one." Once he had filled me to capacity, he slid in and out with long, deliberate strokes. He gave my prostate plenty of friction as he slid out, out, out, then in, in, in, again. My breath followed his strokes, and I felt my body responding to his touch. Oh, God, the sensation was unbelievable. Soon his strokes grew into thrusts, thrusts into animalistic slams in and out of me, our voices uniting into a single wild, harmonious cry of lust. I felt him explode like a weapon inside of me, and he collapsed onto me. His lips lay beside my ear again. "Do you want to know why I fucked you, Schneider?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Why, Richard?" I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. But instead of answering, he lifted off of me, not like he had moved, but like he had disintegrated into smoke. I heard his voice a second later from across the room. "You tell me, you pervert, why you have your cock in one hand, and my lotion in the other?" Oh, God, it had been all in my mind. Please, someone, anyone, kill me, kill me now. He stood in the doorway to the shower room, towel around his waist, and hand on his hip, taking his famous diva-like stance. "Well, I'm waiting," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Uh... uh... Ummm..." I stuttered, my face burning with embarrassment. Oh God, heart, just stop beating, just this once. He took the lotion from me and dropped the towel. "Well, go on then," he said with a sly grin. He lotions up as I slowly continue. He rubs the lotion over his gorgeous skin, paying special attention to the parts that I desire most. I feel my orgasm building again. After he is lotioned, he gels his hair and dresses, spraying himself with his cologne. My moans warn that I'm about to cum, and he tosses me the towel in time for me to spray my full contents into it. I cry out shrilly. He walks by the couch on his way out the door. Before he leaves, he turns to me and says, "Next time, Schneider... Call me if you need a hand, ok?" Did he really say that?
This is a fanfic story. Genre: television Chapter 1 Title: 2+2=6 Written By: Tinytiffers & Nyre The Black Rose Fandom: NCIS, Criminal Minds Cross Over Genres: Family, Romance Warnings: M/M, Mpreg, Threesome, Open Marriage, Parings: Gibbs/DiNozzo, Morgan/Reid, then Spencer/Tony/Morgan/Gibbs Ratings: FRAO Adult Disclaimer: This is written for fun. We do not own any of the characters; we just play with them every so often, and not as often as we would like or they need. Summary: Jethro and Tony join Spencer and Derek on a joint operation. The plane crashes, and their fun begins. This is an Mpreg M/M relationship, and the four men form a polygynandry relationship (a group marriage). It is explicit; if this is not your thing, hit the back button and return to something more to your liking. No flames, please. Morgan was growling at his desk, getting up to pace. Muttering under his breath, he asked himself, "Where the hell is Reid?" Hotch had called three times already for both him and Spencer to come to his office. He had told Hotch that Reid wasn't in yet and heard the frustration in his boss's voice the last time. He knew Reid had left the house in plenty of time, so why wasn't he there? Looking out into the bullpen, he saw Spencer enter. "Finally," he said, walking out onto the catwalk, "Reid, Hotch wants us in his office... NOW." He was gratified to see Spencer jump and then run up the stairs. Reid had followed Morgan down the hall, almost running to keep up with him. He knew he had a legitimate reason for being late, one that Morgan would be delighted to hear, or at least he hoped he would. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't seen Morgan stop and ran right into his back. Morgan knocked on Hotch's door. "Hotch?" Morgan said to the head of the BAU. "Reid is finally here." He scowled at Spencer. "What is it that you need Reid and me for so badly?" "Come in and sit down, both of you," Hotch said, indicating the chairs in front of his desk. Morgan looked at Reid funny when he bumped into him but didn't say anything. Instead, he walked into Hotch's office. "What's up?" "Sorry," Spencer mumbled, following Morgan and sitting in the chair next to him. Hotch looked up from the paperwork in front of him. "You two have been assigned to a joint task force with NCIS for a drug trafficking, forgery, and eco-terrorism case. We have been asked into this game by NCIS for three reasons. One, we deal in forgeries. Number two, Dr. Reid, and third, we have a plane to get everyone there." "What do they want with Reid?" Morgan questioned, not realizing how protective he was getting. "Well, I'm not really sure, but they said they needed him for his memory concerning the drugs and forgeries. I always thought they had this stuff together. We also have a few profiles on eco-terrorists, and again, the location makes sense, taking him with you," Hotch answered Morgan, looking at them both in front of him. The scowl on Morgan's face had him worrying, so he quickly added, "And I told them there was no way I was sending him alone." He knew Morgan and Spencer apart was not a pretty sight. He started to think about the one and only time he sent Reid out into the field without Morgan and never wanted to repeat that scenario. He knew these men came as a set. Morgan let out a sigh of relief to hear that he would, for sure, be going on this mission. He too was thinking about the case Reid went on his own, and it still gave Morgan shivers. "So, when do the NCIS agents arrive? I am assuming they are coming here since we are the ones with the plane?" Reid sat up a little higher. "And why do they want me?" he asked. "To answer your question first, Morgan, I told them wheels up in 60. As for you, Reid, I'm really not sure. I thought they were profilers over there, but I'm told I'm wrong. I was assured all they wanted was your brain and our plane. Remembering your affinity for getting into trouble and the fact you would be out of contact for a week or more, I told them you both went or neither," Turning to the file folder on his desk, he began, "You will be going to remote Montana, a place called Big Sheep Creek Backcountry Byway." He said, looking up, "In Montana, it includes the Tendoy Mountains, the Beaverhead Mountains, and the Continental Divide, also the massive Medicine Lodge Valley. The vast majority of the route not only passes through an uninhabited part of Montana but a landscape that features no signs of human habitation whatsoever." "Guess we should go home and pack our bags," Morgan said. Spencer gave him a look, and he added, "What, I didn't finish washing clothes for our to-go-bags." Reid looked at Morgan, then at Hotch. "Well, then it's a good thing I'm the anal-thinking one," he smiled. "I removed the dirty clothes and repacked them. They're in the trunk of the car. By the way," he said, returning to Morgan, "you know I would not be able to leave without replenishing our clothes; I'm superstitious. The last time I got sent to LA alone..." "You would think a person who is anal wouldn't put back dirty clothes," Morgan laughed as he and Reid walked out of Hotch's office with their file folder in hand. "Besides, our plane, they have their own brains, so why do they need ours? Plus, our brain has been on the fritz the past few weeks," he said, looking at his lover. "You would be right," Spencer said, as he pondered his love's statement. "But then, even if I were working at half my brain's capacity, I'd still be smarter than you," he snapped back with a smile to soften his words. "Besides, I also washed clothes while you were wasting time sleeping. Now, as we only have 60 minutes, aren't you glad I did? AND I have a very good reason for my recent frizzy brain, as you so lovingly call it." Morgan was about to say something to Reid, but there was a commotion at the elevator. "I didn't leave my bag back at the office, at least not on purpose. I will be fine; I have my credit cards; I can buy other stuff when we get where we are going," Tony said. Gibbs rolled his eyes, finding his partner was losing brain cells over the past few weeks. "Ok," Tony said, "that might not be the best solution, seeing as where we are going is about the most remote place in the US, if not the world, I get that. But honestly, Boss, I'm sure I can find something." Tony thought of how much he liked wearing Jethro's clothes and had to fight the erection he was beginning to feel as they had reached the floor where they were to catch up with their unwelcome FBI teammates. "You would think Leon would push Tobias on us, not a bunch of new FBI agents," Gibbs grumbled. "Tobias said the BAU guys were good people, but I am not in the mood for new people." Spencer took one look at the new arrivals and had to turn around, mumbling to Morgan, "Derek, I'll go get our bags and put them in the agency car taking us to the airport." He hoped Derek didn't sense his unease. He hurried past the two NCIS agents with his head down. Tony thought he saw something familiar in the man, and in seconds, he had it. He had met the man at his early morning appointment. "Hey, Boss, give me your bag; I'll go follow Dr. Reid," he said. Gibbs looked at Tony a bit weird but handed him his bag and watched the younger agent walk after whom they both assumed was Dr. Reid. Gibbs walked over to a confused-looking Morgan. "Hello, Agent Jethro Gibbs, but to most, just Gibbs." "SSA Derek Morgan, most call me Morgan," he returned in a like manner. "The guy you just saw high-tailing out of here is my partner, SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Now, seeing as this is a joint operation, some kind of weird collision of stars causing our agencies to decide we have to work together, I would normally take you to my office. However, since in his infinite wisdom, my supervisor decided we are to leave immediately, I guess we should follow our partners," Morgan said, turning and entering the waiting elevator. He waited for the man named Gibbs to follow him. "Sounds like a good idea," Gibbs said, as he got into the elevator with Morgan. Soon, the men were on the ground floor, which was the parking garage, and they found Tony and Spencer putting bags in the trunk but not talking. "OK, men, let's head out of here," Gibbs said, taking control, as he was used to doing. What he wasn't used to was another guy showing up and climbing into the driver's seat. "Driver?" he questioned Morgan, as everybody piled in. Morgan wasn't put off by the other man's hard face; he was just as good and as intimidating as Gibbs. Getting in the car and placing the key in the ignition, he said, "My agency car, my choice of driver. In this case, the choice is me. Let's go, boys," he hollered out the window and smiled as he watched his lover and the other man – Agent DiNozzo, was it? – scramble to get in. After a short detour to pick up Tony's bag, Gibbs frowning at him all the time, they drove in heavy silence until they reached the area the plane was tied down. Morgan turned to the hangar where they usually left the car until their return. They had taken seats, Morgan and Gibbs up front at a small table, where they could glare at each other. Spencer and Tony were in the back. Spencer leaned over and whispered to Tony, "So, now that I've had a chance to take a better look, you are the man I saw this morning at my OB's, aren't you?" Tony was a bit taken aback. "What makes you say that?" he whispered. "I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words a minute. In short, I am a genius, so what makes you think I can't remember a man I saw just this morning?" Spencer whispered back. "So, you are that man? Tony, is it?" Tony looked around to see if anybody was listening before nodding. "Three months... you?" "Same," Spencer confided. "You told your baby's daddy yet?" "Oh, yeah, right," Tony snorted. "He would have my head on a stick. You?" Giving Morgan a worried glance, he turned back to Tony. "No, not yet. I was going to tonight, but... maybe I can still do it in the hotel." "Gibbs... he had another kid before, who died, so he has never wanted another baby. We've been good at preventing it until now. I guess we weren't too good at preventing conception after all. We better go get involved in the briefing before we get killed." Just as they had come to a lull in the briefing, they heard the co-pilot come over the overhead speakers. "Gentlemen, we are headed into some uncharted rough weather; please buckle your seat belts." Both sets of partners did, with the older of each partnership double-checking the seat belts of their lover. Both younger men complained, but it didn't get far. Just as they started, there was a sudden stop, a sliding feeling, and a jolt filled with the noise of twisting metal. The plane had crashed with everyone on board unresponsive.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: cartoons Chapter 1 -Scootaloo POV- Coach Dash is the coolest person I've ever known. She's so cool and caring and talented. I just love the fact that I'm one of the only people who can say that their coach absolutely shredded on an electric guitar during class. That's definitely a rarity...heh...Rarity. No wonder, though. She probably got in so much trouble for it. And that's the best thing about her. She's such a daredevil. She'll do whatever she wants if it means entertaining everyone. The world needs more teachers like her. Or just people like her in general. I wish I could take this class for the rest of my life. I love seeing her. I hate the fact that I'm not going to be able to step into her class next year. She's made it very clear that 10th grade is the highest she'll teach because she can't deal with the disrespect from those who should be adults. Leave it to a bunch of entitled dumbasses to ruin the best things for everyone. It's such a shame, too. The amount of lives she could greatly impact if she were to be a high schooler's last teacher is staggering to think about. Whatever. The world just isn't ready for that much greatness, I guess. I close the cover of my diary after bookmarking my next entry, looking out into the distance of my neighborhood. Why can't any of these houses have her in it? It sucks. Everyone here either doesn't do anything, is overbearingly happy, or they're just gigantic assholes. Sure, Applebloom and Sweetie Belle are here, too, but they don't count. Those nerds are the only reason this place is worth spending a few seconds in. Just imagine if Coach Dash was living here. There's no doubt in my mind that she'd fix this place and not make it seem so dull, annoying, or douchey. Why can't we ever have nice things? Ugh, sounds like Trixie's rummaging in my room again. Honestly, you go missing for an entire day and a half, and all of a sudden, the whole world gets turned upside down. Kind of sad, really. What's a girl gotta do to get some alone time around here? But it's probably best that I reveal myself. She doesn't seem like the type to call the cops, but I don't wanna risk it. She'll definitely call someone, though. Learned that the hard way. So I tuck my diary under the secret tile before hopping down from the roof onto my balcony, frightening Trixie. "Jeez, would you stop doing that?" she questions, clutching her chest. "Why can't you ever stay in one place?" "It's in my genes, I guess," I reply, heading over to my bed and flopping down on it. "Well, now you see I'm fine. Now get out." "First of all, I don't like when you make jokes like that. Your parents work very hard." "Mmhm." "Secondly, I'm not only here to know that you're here. I'm your caretaker. Which means I take care of you." "I know how to deconstruct words, Trixie. Context clues aren't that foreign of a concept." She palms her face and sighs. Yup, here's her final stage before she'll finally leave. And this time with feeling. "What happened to you? We used to be so close. You loved having fun with me. You never acted like this. Sneaking out, getting so snarky out of nowhere, bashing your parents, you're so unapologetically dismissive now. What's going on, Scootaloo?" Hm, that's a different approach. Usually, she'll go on and on about my behavior and how it'll get me in trouble. Not like this makes any difference, anyways. She's still so misguided. I'm not 6 anymore. I'm old enough to know how the real world works. And when that happens, blind allegiance tends to disappear. I don't make the rules. "Scootaloo, I'm serious," she continues, "I'm worried about you. Talk to me." "Look, ok? I just got a hold of some new interests. I'm not gonna wanna watch magic tricks forever. I can imagine how much it sucks for you, but hey, that's just the way it goes. Changes happen. So if we're done with the typical talk sessions that never go anywhere, can I please just have a moment's peace?" She starts to say something else, but stops herself before nodding and saying, "Ok...Alright. You're right. You're your own person with your own thoughts and ideas now...I'll...I'll leave you to your business now. Just...promise you'll at least come down to eat something. I haven't seen you eat anything all day." "Yeah. We done now?" "...Yeah...Yeah, I'll go. Goodnight." I pick up my phone, both to look for something to watch and to get her to leave quicker, which she does. God, you play a few games with a girl, and all of a sudden, you're her best friend. I guess I can't blame her too much. Not like she's got much going on in her life. I'm probably one of the few people she talks to. It's only natural that she'll resort to old tricks seeing as the new ones aren't really working. But that still doesn't excuse it, though. Why can't she be cool like Coach Dash? She wouldn't expect to baby me all my life. She'd wanna do something fun. She'd wanna get to know me. She'd actually treat me like I'm a mature person. What's a girl gotta do to get some competence around here? She did remind me to eat something, though. So she's not all bad. Gotta remember to later, though. I'm starving. But I don't wanna risk bumping into another awkward conversation if she's still down there. Or I could just order something. I've still got her card that I keep forgetting to tell her that I have. And she's still taking care of me by buying my food. Plus, I'll consider it even for being so invasive. Lessons learned for everyone. The next day approaches, and the start's nothing noteworthy as usual: zombies on the bus, deafening nothing at breakfast. But it only takes me entering the halls in pursuit of my locker to find the actual fascinating material, with people talking about what really matters: Coach Dash's performance. This is what I'm talking about. All it took was a single class period of fun, and people are going nuts over it. There's nothing her awesomeness can't do. She's just the best! No one can resist her badassery! "I just don't know what the big fuss is about. It wasn't even that impressive." Wow, today's just the worst day to have ears. I mean, if they're just gonna malfunction like this, what's the point of them? I open my locker and place my things inside, hearing the conversation continue with, "You're crazy. You heard the same thing we did. Don't be jealous of her because you can't shred like that." "Yeah, I'll let you keep living in that fantasy. Seriously, it was just a few basic chord switches and theatrics. If you peons are that easily impressed, it's a wonder how you all made it this far." Ok, now I need to know who the hell is slandering my angel. I turn my head to see none other than the fiery orange-haired skank: Shimmer. She's the new girl who just waltzes about, oozing with self-importance. She's the girl who can do anything and do it better than anyone. A gimmick I never got, but her delusions never really caused any concern. Until now. "Alright, let's see you attempt a fraction of it," someone else chimes in, "Bring your guitar and prove you can do it better." "Wow, you people really are pathetic," Shimmer replies, "I've got nothing to prove to you. I know very well what I'm capable of. I don't need validation from people who fawn over the most irresponsible adult I've ever had the dishonor of being supervised by." And that's the rest of my patience dried up. I slam my locker shut and turn to the smug cunt as she folds her arms, saying in the most articulate way I can so she understands the severity of her current situation, "Take it back." She eyes me up and down before snickering and patronizingly waving her hands, saying, "Ooo. Did I strike a nerve? Don't tell me I've awakened the insatiable beast, hehehe." "Take it back," I repeat, stepping closer to her. "Aw, I did, didn't I? Well, fine. If it means that much to you, I take back what I said about your reckless, under-qualified, sorry excuse of a coach who's no doubt getting that pink slip right as we speak. There. Happy? Is that what you wanted?" Ok, I tried. God knows I tried. But if my words won't work, the only other option is action. So I lift my hands to shove her against the wall, but before I can even raise them above my torso, I'm interrupted with the feeling of someone else's hands overlapping mine and raising them above my head, shaking them in a dumb way. God dammit. "Hey there, bud," Applebloom says in her stupid clown voice, waving my hands, "Long time, no see. What's goin' on here?" For the love of God. Just to make sure this stops as soon as possible, I move my hands on my own, saying, "Nothing, Sgt. Copferman. I was just stretching my arms." "Ok, ahm just making sure. You stay outta trouble now, ya hear?" "Sir, yes, sir." And mercifully, I'm free of her confines as the looks of confusion dawn upon the both of us. She's so fucking lucky I love her so much. And that goes double for the fact that her weirdness makes her cuter. The bell then rings a moment later with everyone scattering to class. "Was that really necessary?" I question as we walk to our classes. "That depends: are you finally gonna stop escalatin' everything?" She questions back in her neutral voice. "It wasn't even my fault this time." "Uh-huh." "It wasn't. She was talking smack about Coach Dash. With everything she does, she deserves basic respect, right?" "I'm startin' to think you've got a problem." "I'm just saying it's the principle of the matter. Not a lot of teachers do what she does. Bad-mouthing someone like her is gonna be met with consequences." "Well, that's all fine n' dandy, but you do realize your consequences will be a wee bit harsher than hers, right?" "...She's still gonna learn something." "Alright, I'm not goin' back and forth with you. Mostly cause you're hard-headed and I don't have the patience nor the time for it. I'll leave that headache for Sweetie." "Good to know I'm nothing more than your lovechild in this relationship." "And we love you with all our hearts, sweetpea. Now, head to class. This is my stop." She gives me a peck on my lips before stepping into her personal hell: Algebra 1. Sucker. Meanwhile, I make my way to my personal Nirvana: Health. Hopefully, the higher-ups realize how integral she is to us all and they don't do anything too drastic. They just can't take her away from us. Away from me. I don't know what I'd do without her.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: cartoons Chapter 1 Toki happily blew a party favor as he marched down the corridors of Mordhaus, or rather, skipped. Today was his birthday, and he was hoping everyone remembered this time. It was supposed to be the happiest day to be. But as he hopped into the meeting room, he got a rude awakening. "Good morning, everyone! Guess what's today," he spouted in a sing-song tone. "For fuck's sake, Toki. Shut up! Now's not the time, and it's a crappy day," Murderface suddenly snarled at him, then hid his face miserably in his hands. Everyone else had their attention on Murderface, not on Toki. They went back to forgetting about him and just focused on Murderface. He sat at the end of the meeting table, his head buried in his hands, looking miserable about something. "What's going on? Did I come at a bad time?" Toki was a little hurt that everyone wasn't paying attention to him. How could they have forgotten again? And not care? "Murderface... has been given a court order by the Count of the Eagles," Ofdensen informed him. "You remember the song the two of you worked on for the album?" Toki thought about it for a moment, then it came to him. He remembered him and Murderface working on that song for the latest Dethklok album they dubbed "Takin' It Easy". Though the other band members rejected it from the album, then Murderface claimed that it should be on his side project "Planet Piss" if it wouldn't be on the new Dethklok album, and then disclaimed Toki out of the song and took all the credit for it. "Turns out there was a song called 'Takin' It Easy', same song, lyrics, tune, and everything! Some fucking band called 'The Eagles' are suing me for it, and I haven't even gotten it out yet. It ain't even out on the radio yet, and I'm getting fucking sued for it. Ain't that some shit!" Murderface barked in outrage. "Huh! Who would have thought Murderface came up with some crappy song that some other dildo band started first," Nathan grunted with a small smirk on his face. "Yeah, small world, eh?" Pickles snickered. Toki looked over at Skwisgaar with a guitar in his hands, playing near-silent notes like always, never saying a word. The blonde Swede stayed quiet the whole while, even before Toki showed up at the meeting. "Wait a minute, I thought you guys said it was alright?" Murderface balked at them. "Well, since it ain't really your song, I guess it's alright to admit it, that it sucks. There, I said it," Nathan told him. "It's not metal." Toki was saddened that everyone was far too busy with Murderface's problems than with his. They picked a perfect day to forget about his birthday, like always. Toki hung his head in despair and left the room, ignoring the sudden outburst of Murderface's wrath of being sued for copyright, and for Nathan and the others admitting they never liked his song. Toki would have stood up and said that he wanted rights to the song, but since it was already copyrighted, he just kept his mouth shut about it and forgot it. His birthday being ignored was a much bigger disappointment than some stupid song. What Toki hadn't realized was that a certain blonde was the only one to notice his existence in the room, while Ofdensen was too busy trying to calm down Murderface, who was yelling and arguing at Nathan and Pickles. Skwisgaar watched with concerned eyes as Toki walked out of the room. Then Murderface shouted out his favorite curse words before throwing a chair across the room. Toki hugged Deddy-bear close to his chest as he watched out the window from the dark and emptied-out DethRec Room, up into the night sky later that evening. Everyone else had gone with Murderface and Ofdensen to Murderface's hearing on the Eagles' song. Toki didn't want to go, nor did anyone bother to ask him or make him go. They just went without him and never bothered talking to him. Just like the last three birthdays, they forgot about him and didn't care. Nobody ever bothered to notice how old he had gotten. Tears swelled up in his blue eyes as he held Deddy-bear closer. The whole room was dark and quiet. The moonlight outside the window was the only lighting in the room, as it engulfed Toki's lonely figure. He sat cross-legged as he sobbed. "Just like last year and the year after that. Everyone forgets my birthday. Nobody remembers. Nobody cares," he cried to himself. He could feel tears flooding down his face. "Not everybody's," a voice suddenly called out sweetly. Toki jumped as he heard somebody talking to him. He quickly looked up to see Skwisgaar sitting on his knees on a table with a cake next to him. The candles on the cake, burning, gave away the lighting to who was there. Skwisgaar had a kind smile on his face as he stared back at Toki. The Norwegian's sorrow was fading fast. The icing on the cake had the words "Happy Birthday Toki" in blue cursive on top. "Don't think that I would have forgotten," Skwisgaar smirked. "Skwisgaar? You... you got..." Toki was speechless. Already, he felt like the reverse side of crying as he saw Skwisgaar as his only company out of anyone who would have forgotten his birthday. "Ja, well, don't just sit there gawking. You act like you've seen a ghost," Skwisgaar scoffed. Sitting Deddy-bear by the window and forgetting about him, Toki walked over to the table and climbed up at it on the other side of the cake, across from Skwisgaar. Toki's heart was beating, and it felt like it would jump up into his throat. He sat down, not taking his eyes off the blonde Swede, and ignored the burning cake close to his knees. "Make a wish, Toki," a tone of sweetness was in Skwisgaar's voice. He smiled at Toki with the most kindness he could ever offer. Toki smiled back at him, a wave of relief came over him, and he now wanted to cry again. This time for joy. "I don't think I need to. It's already come true," he quietly said. "Then here's your present," Skwisgaar leaned forward to him. Toki leaned forward to him too, until their lips met. Quickly pushing the burning cake out of the way, Skwisgaar pulled Toki closer and kissed him more. The blonde pulled away for a moment to look at the younger guitarist in the eyes. Toki wanted to cry now, after already missing that new sensation that he had been waiting for so long. "Happy Birthday, Toki." "Is you the only one here for me?" "Ja. No one else gives a crap about your birthday today." There was a short pause before Skwisgaar leaned in closer to whisper in Toki's ear. "But I do." Toki's heart was beating so fast and hard in his chest, like it was trying to escape. He could almost hardly breathe. "Oh, Skwisgaar," he threw himself up at the blonde and kissed him all over his face. Skwisgaar let out a laugh before pushing Toki off him for a bit, so he could lay him on the sofa next to the table. Toki was on his back and could only see darkness. The lighting from the burning candles on his birthday cake was only at the corner of his eye, but he paid no attention. Though he couldn't see him right in front of him, Skwisgaar was laying over him with a smirk on his cocky face. "Is this your wish?" Skwisgaar's voice spoke in the darkness. "Please, Skwisgaar...," Toki was taking deep breaths. He didn't want to wait. "Please what?" "Please... make it come true. My wish..." Skwisgaar left butterfly kisses all over Toki's neck, making the young Norwegian whimper. "And what's your wish?" "Takes me... you know... Um... I uh...," Toki was a little bashful in saying it. It took a few minutes before there was complete silence, and then Toki felt Skwisgaar removing his shirt before he could say another word. Toki was about to ask him what he was doing before Skwisgaar captured his lips again in the dark. "I know what you mean, Toki, I know...," The way Skwisgaar said it made Toki tingle all over. Then he felt hands run all over his back and chest as Skwisgaar kissed him deeply, rough with his tongue inside. Without realizing it, Toki greeted his tongue with his own. Both were moaning and breathing in the dark. The candles on Toki's birthday cake were still burning and just halfway in melting to the rim. The wax was already covering almost the whole top of the cake. But still, it lay forgotten as the lovers were preoccupied with each other. Toki moaned in Skwisgaar's kiss as the blonde had already removed the younger man's jeans and boxers, leaving Toki completely naked. Toki cried out as Skwisgaar began to lick down his body. Though he couldn't see the younger guitarist's well-toned body in the dark, Skwisgaar traced his tongue along Toki's six-pack abs and licked them all over. It sort of tickled Toki a bit, giggling and then moaning in lust as his fellow Scandinavian and now-lover licked in his most tender areas. Then Skwisgaar came down to Toki's erect cock and took it in his mouth. Toki gasped out loud as he felt his member engulfed by a hot mouth. He arched his back in pleasure as Skwisgaar began to suck on it. Just listening to Toki moan made the Swede blonde himself rather hard. Skwisgaar kept sucking on Toki's cock, making the brunette moan out louder and arching for more. Toki then started to feel himself ready to explode but didn't want to do it in Skwisgaar's mouth. He tried to push him off, but Skwisgaar stayed where he was, not going to stop sucking until he's tasted all of Toki. The Norwegian was gasping and started moaning more loudly than a bitch in heat when he felt his climax. "Skwisgaar... please stop! I'm going to...," he was gasping, and then before he realized it, he came into Skwisgaar's hot, moist mouth. The blonde didn't give a damn one bit as he swallowed all of Toki. The younger man let out a whine in embarrassment, having to cum in Skwisgaar's talented mouth. Toki's face was redder than a tomato, though it was pitch black to see it. Then, before he even knew it, Skwisgaar captured his lips again in a heated kiss. Toki groaned in ecstasy, having to actually taste himself in Skwisgaar's mouth. It was hard to tell, but he must have tasted so good if Skwisgaar liked it. The kiss made the younger man arch his back in pleasure. "See? You taste good, Ja?" "Oh...," was all Toki could say. He was in awe that this was happening. He had always wanted Skwisgaar to take him, but he never dreamed it would be on his birthday, and now it was happening. Though it was just halfway there in making his fantasy come true. Skwisgaar didn't wait for an answer anyway. He started removing his own clothes and threw them on the floor next to Toki's. He then ordered Toki to turn over on his hands and knees before inserting a finger into his tight hole. The brunette cried out in pleasure as the faster guitarist began a scissoring motion in him. Toki was moaning and started whining in Skwisgaar to just take him already. The blonde was already more than happy to do so. He just needed Toki to beg for it. Skwisgaar removed his finger and plunged his cock into Toki, making the younger man wince at the sudden intrusion. For Toki, it was painful for a minute before it pulled back for another thrust in, and then it started to get better. For Skwisgaar, he was in pure sexual heaven, better than with any of the women he slept with. Toki was so tight. He laid over Toki's body before thrusting in and out in slow motion, then in fast before going into slow motion again. Both men were panting and moaning as they made love in the dark, other than the birthday candles still burning on Toki's cake. It was still forgotten about, even as it was their only light. Toki cried out as Skwisgaar kept hitting a sweet spot in him, again and again. He kept begging for more, crying out for Skwisgaar to just fuck him harder. Skwisgaar grinned and continued thrusting into him harder and faster. He reached around and wrapped a hand around Toki's weeping member and pumped at it along with his thrusts. Toki clawed at the cushions as he could feel an orgasm for the second time since his first. His cries were enough to make Skwisgaar want to cum too. "Say it!" Skwisgaar called out suddenly after thrusting in hard. "Say... what?" Toki panted out, a wave of pleasure hit him as he could hardly think straight. "Say... my name. Say it, Toki. Say it... in pleasure." "Oh... ahh...," Toki shut his eyes as he could hardly let out words. "AHHHH!!!! SKWISGAAR!!!! AHHHHH!!!!!" He screamed it out as he came all over the sofa and soaked Skwisgaar's hand. "Oh!! Ja! Ahhh!!! TOKI!!!!!!" Skwisgaar cried out as well as he came inside of Toki. Several minutes passed as both men were breathing and panting. Finally, as one last candle was still burning, one of them finally spoke a word after catching his breath. "I love you, Toki," Skwisgaar pulled out of him and turned him over to kiss his lips. Toki's face lit up as he returned the kiss. "I love you too, Skwisgaar. Thank you for everything. This is the best birthday ever." "Ja. Knew you'd like your present," Toki let out a giggle that even the world's fastest guitarist would find so cute. In the dark, Toki snuggled in Skwisgaar's arms as they both regained their energy. In a few short minutes, Toki's birthday cake was covered completely in candle wax, except for one little place where there wasn't a candle near. Toki reached out a hand and traced a finger in the icing on the cake and plucked out some. No use in letting one little piece go to waste. The moonlight from the window gave off enough light for Skwisgaar to see his lover suck on his finger, tasting the icing off. Just watching him lick his own finger made Skwisgaar a little hard. He too reached out and got some wax-less icing, but he didn't eat any himself. He offered some to Toki. Toki didn't need to be told twice to lick the bit of icing on Skwisgaar's finger. He ate it up before sucking on the Swede's finger, making him moan in lust. He then moved up to kiss him on the lips, sharing the taste of cake on him. "Mmm... tastes good on you," Skwisgaar purred, licking some on Toki's lips. There was a silence of loving embrace before Toki quietly said, "Thanks so much for everything, Skwisgaar. I love you so much." "Again... Happy Birthday, Toki. I love you too." "We should do this again for my birthday next year." "Why wait?"
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: movies 2012 The end Chapter 1: The End Disclaimer: I don't own the 2012 movie. "The world is ending. I hope you're all with your loved ones; this will be our last day on Earth..." The "face of 2035" grimaces back at me and the billion other people in the nation. I sigh and wave my hand through the Pro, the image disintegrating into the humid air. All the channels have been cut by the Generator; replaced by Tab's panicking face - delivering our death warrants. Not that we need him to; it's starkly obvious what's happening to our planet. For the past three months, big, blazing balls of fire have rained down upon us, engulfing anything in their way in flames of ochre and blood. Two of them wrecked the Re-Growth Centre, rendering the women of New London grief-stricken. It gives me a headache to think of the illogic behind their depression. I would not want to willingly have children now, not without my parents here to implant the blessing chip, not in this stifling, deteriorating environment. Why would anyone want to bring a child into this hell? "DOVE! What are you doing? You know we can't go out there - you know it's not safe anymore," he shouts, sliding the door closed and setting the bolts to 'cross lock'. Sometimes the need to breathe cold, clean air overwhelms me. I forget about our situation, and then the searing heat will creep up in my throat and I'll remember. Distracted, it takes me a second to program the scene window over his shoulder for the only other channel available, and I can look out at the wreck that is our world. The pavement has crumbled into dust; the road is littered with barren crags and wasted plastic models. Scraps of clothes flutter like warning signs, and the air swelters, visibly fluctuating like the waves of a tumultuous ocean. Other Pads are battered from the months of extreme weather, the industrial white of the paint spattered with red and grey. The sky looks painful - like it would rip you up if you touched it. The sun is a gaping blood stain, and the years of global warming have swallowed up the clouds and any remnants of blue. Red. Everything is red. I feel like crying, but I've always been strong, so I turn my head and stare at Lupus instead. He waits for an answer, his hands tilting my face this way and that, searching for it. Even if we weren't being eradicated by the sun, it still would've been hard to breathe outside - we'd all had to have a special chemical injected into our bloodstream to adjust our systems to the new environment. Those of us who could afford it, and those of us who were young enough. Unlike my parents. Even animals were given the chemical, yet the poor weren't, and the old were considered a waste of resources. Lupus shakes me out of my daydream by grabbing my arms. "Long live democracy," he shouts angrily at the sky. Her shares of the supplies have been sustaining Lupus and me for a month, and we wait. We wake up at the toll of the morning bell, and we wait. We drift off into dreams when we're calm enough, and we wait. Every minute trails by, and still we wait. We wait for death. We wait for the end. Lupus tries not to show it, but I know he's scared. He will never get to go to Mars and train to be a great soldier. He will never get to take me to the Re-Growth Centre and hold his child. He will never get to see his parents again or see his brother's smile, as wrecked as it is. Ever since we met, I've known him to be the kind of person who looks after everyone else. And yet, when he needs it, I can't look after him. I study his dusty hair, damp from his wash, and his worried hazel eyes as they flicker to-and-fro. I want to scream. I want to bite and scratch and claw at the world, and the people who have ruined it. At us, at ourselves. "Two minutes," I whisper, my hand crushing Lupus's. I clutch at the necklace my mother gave me with the other hand. The delicate swallow is pressed into my clammy palm hard enough to leave an imprint. Squeezing my dull blue eyes shut, I kiss my memories. Then... I let them go. "Finally," Lupus replies, sinking onto the floor, and a devastating smile breaks the haggard planes of his face. It's the first smile I've seen in months. Unfortunately, I'm distracted by the realization that he wants to wait in here for his death. He wants to surrender to what he's been waiting for, for so long. I can see him take in my words, thinking about what I'm saying. Slowly, he stands up, takes my hands, and leads me to the door. He wanted to be a soldier like his father - I know my message has hit hard. I'm the one who opens the door, pressing the release touchpad. He can't bring himself to do it. "Twenty seconds," Tab's voice floats from behind us. "Dove, I love you," Lupus tells me, wrapping his arms around me and putting his lips to my forehead. I close my eyes, fighting long-due tears, and open them again. I want to time it perfectly. I have to time it perfectly. For us. For Lupus. For my parents, for his parents. For his cousin. For our love... for his unborn baby. The sun seems to expand, the air heats up ferociously, sweat drips down onto my cheek and sizzles against my skin. Ash flutters against our linked hands, the ground throbs with our faltering heartbeats; a halt in the air, silence pierces our ears harder than any drum. "I love you too, Lupus," I whisper into his neck with my last breath.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: originals Chapter 1 Author's Note: Okay, so this is a new story that I've been working on for a little over a year now. I had thought I had lost it all when my thumb drive got stolen, but thankfully I had found some extra copies that were up to date and have been retyping it back onto my newer thumb drive. I'm so excited, and I hope everyone likes it. I'm posting it on here because I want to know if people actually like it or if I should discontinue writing it and just concentrate on other things. I am a full-time college student and I work a full-time job, so updates will be coming as soon as I can muster them. So, please be patient. The first three chapters will be up within the next two days, but the others will be at my discretion. Thanks, everyone, <3 Kara_Dubara _____________________________________________________ PROLOGUE May 25th, 2020 Alex: What have you been up to? Ami: Not much, just watching the news, doing homework, and talking to you. Lol. Alex: Fun, fun, fun. :-) Ami: Oh yeah, tons of fun. :-P Alex: Did you notice the news is playing down this virus that's spreading through the country? It's bullshit, you know. It's more serious than the government thinks it is. They're so stupid to downplay all this. I've seen a lot of people die because of it. I hope they realize that it's going to get worse before it ever gets better. Ami: No shit, Alex. I've seen people in the hospital simply shaking so bad from the virus, all because they were stupid enough not to wear protection during sex. Hell, some old far died this afternoon because of it. All because he slept with his wife, who apparently had been unfaithful to him, and his wife died a day and a half ago, after they'd fucked, and... it's fucking insane. :-( Alex: No shit. Damn, it's the doorbell. I've been expecting her for the last two hours. It's time about time she showed up. It's our anniversary, you know. Five years together, it's so crazy how time flies. Ami: Really? Lol, well, we've been friends, oh, I don't know, since I was thirteen? :-) Go ahead and go, I'll text you later, all right? I got to sign off anyway, so I can concentrate on my thesis. You know I've only got another year before I graduate and take the bar exam? Yay! Lol. Alex: Alright, I will text you later. I'm planning on asking Tempest to marry me tonight. I hope you can make it to the wedding. It's going to take place in less than six months, I hope, but you never know with women. I mean... well, you know what I mean. One minute you're nice and sweet, and the next minute you change your minds and can be real bitches. Ami: No shit, that's the price you men pay for knocking us up. Lol. Love ya's, and talk to ya laterz. :-* Alex: Later. Lol. Alex has signed off. Signing off the computer, Amelia would sigh and shake her head. She'd been in love with Alex for over twelve years. But she knew things between the two of them could never work out. Hell, he'd even told her that he'd never found her sexually attractive, but then again, that had been four years ago, and he'd not seen a recent picture of her since then. She had changed from the fat, chubby girl of then to the slim, athletic woman of now. Back then she'd been brunette, and truthfully she still was, at her roots, but now she'd professionally dyed her hair into a flame red color, and loved it. Her hair was much longer as well, and some of it was due to extensions, but most of it was her natural hair that was long. With a sigh, she'd close out of the messaging service she used with her best friends and pulled up her word document, her head turning back and forth from the stack of paper she had written her thesis upon and back to the computer screen where it was taking shape on the word document. She couldn't help but stop a few moments, to recall Alex's words, wondering why it would have taken so long for Tempest to get to his house, since she knew from experience that the woman didn't live that far away from Alex's house. Her hands stopped their typing before she'd shake her head and get her mind back on her work that she had to do. She only had fourteen hours to type this paper up, proof-read it, then print it out so she could take it to school the next day. And not to mention, somewhere within that time limit, she had to catch a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow was supposed to be a long day, and she knew that if she thought of Alex, she wouldn't be able to do a damn thing. Not even her boyfriend, who she had been with for the last year and a half, had given her the kind of chills that Alex had when she'd finally seen him, a full month and a half before she decided to change, and that was just over a year ago. She'd gotten her tummy tucked, the lap band surgery, a bit of breast augmentation, and had all the fat sucked out of her. She'd lost so much weight that she was thankful for it, but it had cost an arm and a leg. Thankfully, her biological father had left her a significant amount of money to spend when she'd turned twenty-five. She had heard so many bad things about him, but it had all been lies, and apparently, she'd been rich, but married, when he'd slept with her mother, but none of that was good enough for her mother. Thankfully, her father knew about her and had hired private detectives when he realized he was going to die young, and they had found her. Now she was rich, was able to pay for her own college, and live off of the money that she'd gotten, in installments, of course, but it was still a decent chunk of change left in her pocket after taxes had been taken out. Hell, she'd even gotten her teeth fixed and her under-bite taken care of with the money that she had. She hadn't been able to eat solid food for two whole weeks, but still, it was worth it to have a better mouth. It hadn't been too long before her phone started ringing, and upon picking it up, she'd notice that it was Alex. "Well, Alex, that was quick..." She'd say, answering the phone, a smile on her thick, full lips. Leaning back in her computer chair, she'd cross her bare legs and look towards the ceiling, her right hand running up and down her bare thigh while she'd wait for Alex to answer. Having signed off of the messaging service he used, Alex pushed away from his computer desk and ran down the hallway, picking up the small ring box on his way down. This was the day, he knew it. It was instinctive. He'd been with Tempest for five years, and he knew the time had come to ask the woman of his dreams for her hand in marriage. When he thought of marriage, he couldn't help but think of Amelia and how she would react to being the only woman he would beg of Tempest to be part of the marriage ceremony. Shaking his head, he'd clear his thoughts and shoved the little box into his pants pocket and opened the door. "Tempest, I've been worried about you. Our reservations were for 8. Tempest, what's wrong?" Alex would ask, his eyes narrowing a little as he looked at the petite brunette woman standing before him. She didn't look right; she was paler than normal, for living in California, where there was always warm weather and sun, most of the time, and that gave almost everyone a healthy tan if they spent enough time outdoors. Swallowing roughly, he'd look at his girlfriend and notice something else - her eyes were glazed, her lips were slightly parted, and when he looked closer, there was blood at the corner of her mouth. He hadn't heard from her in a few days and had worried then as well, but when he got a call from her that morning, he thought everything was fine, until he looked upon her now. When Tempest tried to come into his home, he closed and locked the door, only to hear her pounding fiercely on the other side. He knew this wasn't his Tempest anymore; she hadn't been strong enough to shake the door before, let alone the entire front wall of his apartment like she was doing now. Taking a deep breath, he'd barricade the door, thankful that he was on the bottom floor of the apartment building and had made an escape tunnel just for such purposes. Some people called him paranoid, others, like Amelia, had called him smart and efficient. He'd always been looking forward to a time like this, but if truth be told, he had always hoped and prayed that it wouldn't be in his lifetime. Running back down the hall to the spare bedroom, he'd close and lock that door, and flip a switch, making steel-reinforced window coverings fall down over the three windows that were in the spare bedroom. Opening the closet, he'd look around before reaching for his phone, which he'd shoved into his back pocket, and he dialed Amelia's phone number, knowing it by heart. Hearing her voice made his heart lurch, and he'd swallow roughly as he heard her speak: "Well, Alex, that was quick..." "I know it was quick, but Tempest wasn't Tempest... I think there's something more going on with the virus... I mean, here, take a listen.." He muttered, pulling the phone from his ear, he'd open the spare bedroom door just a fraction of an inch and poked the phone out into the hallway, letting Amelia hear the pounding of the door. Pulling the phone back into the room, he'd slip his Bluetooth onto his ear and turned it on, Amelia's voice automatically coming into his ear. "What the fuck is that?! That cannot be Tempest. She's not that fucking strong." Amelia said. He could hear the scrape of wheels on hardwood floor and knew that she had pushed back her chair and was standing up. "No shit, you're stronger than she is on even your weakest days, but that's not the point. I hadn't heard from Tempest in five days, Ami... Five fucking days. Then she calls me up out of the blue and wants to go out for dinner. I think something's wrong. I think this virus has gotten to her." "But how?" he heard Amelia ask, as well as the clicking of hangers. He knew Amelia well; she knew him well also, but she knew him so much better than he knew her. He figured she was getting on some jeans and her thick socks and boots that he had bought for her when she had visited him a year and a half ago. "I don't know... she works at the hospital, maybe someone came in with the virus, coughed on her while her mouth was open, and she got infected... I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't." Alex muttered as he himself readied for a fight. He was a big man, especially for being full-blooded Chinese. At 6'6" he was the tallest member of his family, even bigger than his older brother. Add to that his military and weapons training, he was a force to be reckoned with. Leaning against the door frame, he'd listen as Tempest broke through the front door and was making her way throughout the house, trying to find him. "Alex, concentrate here! Use that damned tunnel and get here now! There are not that many cases of the virus here, so you will be safe. I don't think it'll be able to make it all the way through. You can gather as many of your non-infected family and friends as you want, but I just want you here where I can look after you. Got it?!" He heard Amelia say with a slight huff in her voice. He couldn't help but smile and gave a soft nod of his head. "I got it, Ami... I'm on my way to you. I'm taking the small jet that you bought for me for my birthday present. Thank God for being able to pay for flying lessons, huh?" He'd ask with a soft smile on his lips. He cared about Amelia, but there was just something about her appearance, well, as of four and a half years ago, anyway, before she came into all that money. "I'll call you when I land. Ami, be safe, I don't know if I could lose you too." "I will be safe; I've got all the systems readied for this kind of stuff. Remember, I was the one that told YOU to build the damned tunnel out of the apartment and have everything ready because I'd foreseen this shit happening. Just get here and be safe." "Yes, Mother." Alex muttered, smiling as he heard Ami chuckle and knowing that she was shaking her head at his antics. Author's Note: Well, that's the Prologue. Chapters one and two will be thrown up as soon as I type them from the copies that I have. I hope that you like them, and I think that someone will. Thank you guys. I hope that someone does like this. *Hugs and Kisses* <3 Kara_Dubara NEXT CHAPTER Chapter 2 June 30th, 2020 Downtown, Kansas City, MO Flame-red tresses were pulled back into a tight French braid, though some loose strands clung to the young woman's sweat-covered brow. Chocolate hues shimmered as she'd look outside, noticing all the zombies that she and her group had been running from. In the beginning, there had been fourteen of them, but that had been ten too many. A group of fourteen could only move so fast, especially with a pregnant woman in the group. The pregnant woman had gone down first, then the woman's husband or baby daddy, whatever the hell he was to her, then the man's sister. Until one right after the other, all but four of them had been left. They had made it to the police station, barring the door and putting up barricades over the windows, except for one. That had been their downfall. Two had fallen within the first night, the undead having gotten in through that unbarred window. It had been her and her boyfriend left. She hadn't known what to call him during their first time running, nor anymore. But he, before they were able to get the door barricaded, had been bitten, and she had shot him right there on the spot, right between the eyes. Straight through the head – BAM! – No questions, no remorse, not even now, now she was alone. Her ammo was low, her food supply: nada, and the corpse in the corner of her ex-boyfriend had begun to stink up the room. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd had a real shower. God, wouldn't it feel great to have a real fucking shower! With her body pressed against the corner wall, she'd hold tight to the police radio, trying each and every radio station and switching it every five minutes to try again and again, waiting those few extra minutes to hopefully hear a response. "Please, if anyone is alive, and human, I'm stuck in the downtown police station. Back of the building, corner office, the chief's office, please help me. My ammunition is low, food supply is nothing. I need help! If someone is out there, please, please, help me. There's a red blouse hanging out the corner window!" She'd repeat it every five minutes at every single station, going back and forth through the entire radio frequency, hoping, praying that someone would hear her. Her spent 12-gauge shotgun, all her rounds fired, lay at her side; the strap was within easy reach, so she could throw it over her back when needed. The semi-automatic was what she had been firing with, out the window, attempting to gain some semblance of a passage to get through when she needed to. She had made a space small enough for her to get out with quick time. But all she could do was wait. There were too many of them for herself, alone, to fight. Just way too many. She was tired, hungry, and thirsty; she didn't know how long she had been in that office. But she knew she had to get out. She hadn't slept, and the only words she had spoken were what she had said over the radio, praying to God that someone would hear her. With a snort, she pressed her head into the corner, her chest rising and falling within the confines of the black tank top she wore. It clung tight to her body, sweat having made it so. "God... What God?" she whispered to herself. "God abandoned us when he sent this damned disease, when he allowed humans to create this virus without stopping them, without killing them." She never wanted to think about these things, but she knew she had to. She couldn't help it; she was pissed off. She had switched her position, moving to crouch instead of sitting on her ass; the jeans she wore had started to become uncomfortable, but she endured it. The boots, her only means of protecting her feet and legs from anything anymore, were black leather, coming up to mid-calf with a low heel, so she could run and not sprain her ankle. They were the only connection to her life before all of this began, before she had any knowledge of weapons of any kind. Now she had a twelve-gauge at her side, a SMG in her hand, and two Glock 21's tucked into the holsters that hung from her shoulders. She didn't know what she was going to do. If nobody responded, how would she survive? Should she dare try to make a run for it? "Right, run where? Nobody's answered your call, Amelia. You're running nowhere," she answered herself. Groaning, she slammed her head, lightly, against the corner of the wall she was crouched in, waiting for some sign from God of what she should do. Tears fell down Amelia's cheeks, and she wondered where Alex was. She hadn't heard from him since that night, two months ago, and she was worried sick. She had expected him later that day, but when he hadn't shown up and her boyfriend had, she had tried to put things out of her mind. Maybe he had been overexaggerating. Maybe Tempest hadn't been infected, but maybe she had, and she had gotten to Alex before he could get out. Two weeks ago, she had been working on rewriting her thesis when her boyfriend broke down her door, grabbed her, threw her into her room, and told her to put on clothing that she could fight and run in. The infection had spread to the Midwest and was here in full force, just as it had been on the coastal states. But now it was much, much worse. There were so many dead infected walking around; there seemed to be no way around them. It seemed to her that with every one she shot down, four more would pop up into its place. Now, here she was, no food, no water, no safe shelter of any kind, and she was alone, so horribly alone. She had attempted to save her family, but she knew before she had even stepped foot into the house that there was no use in saving them. They had all been infected and were roaming the neighborhood, including her five nephews that she had raised since they were babies. With a shake of her head, Amelia pulled herself away from the past and attempted to look towards the future, wondering if there would be a future for her and for the child that she now carried. A month ago, she would have been crying her eyes out by now. But she was stronger now, much stronger. She knew there was reason to cry; she just didn't have the time to get a good cry going and not be able to stop. She knew that if she started crying in desperation of her circumstances, the tears would not stop; they would continue to flow, and she would remember the pain and loss that she had been through. She had had four years of therapy to get over the loss of her father, both the fact that she had never known him and that she now would never get the chance to know him. And she knew that once a person started crying and remembering all the bad things that had been going on in their life, the tears would fall until they were exhausted, and they needed to sleep off the exhaustion. She couldn't rest; she couldn't sleep. She had to be somewhere safe to sleep, and she wasn't. She was trapped, and she couldn't get out; she didn't have the supplies to keep herself safe. As she thought of those things, her thoughts brought her back to Alex, to where he was, if he was alive, and why he hadn't come for her if he still was alive and still human. She couldn't help but think that maybe she had found another person to care about, that he was with that person right now, saving her life, keeping her free from harm. With a slam of her head to the wall, a whole being placed into it, she looked through the window, towards the sky, and muttered to herself: "Stop thinking those things. Alex said he would come for you, and he will. Do not doubt him, for if you start doubting now, you will just keep on doubting for the rest of your miserable life, however long it is anyway." Maybe she should get some rest, just close her eyes for a few moments, set her alarm, wake up to it. She thought as she looked down at the watch she had procured on the way to the police station and set the alarm to wake her up in thirty minutes. Her eyes started drifting close when she pulled them open. "No! I can't sleep, mustn't sleep... with supplies as they are, sleeping will cost me dearly. But so will not sleeping... Fuck! I don't know what to do..." She whimpered, pulling her legs up to her chest, her head soon resting upon her knees while her arms wrapped around her ankles, keeping her body into as tight a ball as she possibly could. Licking her lips, the young woman raised her head and looked out the window once more.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: cartoons Chapter 1 Title: 20 Fandom: Storm Hawks Author: Gothatheartholo Pairing: Dark Ace/Aerrow Rating/Warning: PG-13 for yaoi, BL, M/M Disclaimer: I do not own Storm Hawks or make money off it. Summary: Stork sees something that is more than what it appears. A/n: For the_usual_spot challenge and the daerrow challenge. I haven’t seen any of the new episodes, so my knowledge of the characters is based on the first season, and therefore, this is slightly AU. It was one of those terrifying, nerve-racking days, where all of the Storm Hawks, with the exception of their pilot, had to once again battle the Cyclonians. Stork heard the battle cries and winced at the sounds of weapons clashing, fists and legs colliding against flesh and armor. He heard the skimmers screeching as they crashed into one another. Stork was anxious, jittery, and alert, his eyes trained on the upcoming Cyclonian troops. With a small, satisfied smile, he pressed the red button in front of him and snickered as the cannons fired beams of energy at the Cyclonians. Many of them fell from their skimmers, but thanks to their parachutes, they floated away, seemingly safe. Stork knew better. Once they landed on the wastelands, those foul, desert beasts would grab them by their teeth and chomp on them for dinner. He shuddered at the thought and focused his eyes on the battles in front of him. It was Finn's clumsiness versus Ravess' efficiency; Junko's strength versus Snipe's violence; Piper's brains versus the troops' stupidity. The winners were obvious, but one couldn't always judge too soon, especially with the battle between Dark Ace and Aerrow. Besides the obvious reasons, Stork never understood why Aerrow wanted to fight Dark Ace. If he were to face him, he'd totally run for his life and then, from a safe distance, fire a few things here and there from his new inventions and then pray to the gods above that it would be enough to at least distract the enemy from finding him. There wasn't much to do now. The Storm Hawks had already wiped out half of the Cyclonian troops, and even their leaders were smart enough to finally retreat. Dark Ace was the only exception, as he and Aerrow continued to duke it out in midair. How they managed to do that consistently, Stork would never know. They were rivals, equally matched in strength and skill, but he wasn't so sure about experience. Their energy blades clashed again and again, releasing sudden sparks into the air. They grunted as they shifted from one skimmer to another, both pairs of eyes burning with something strong and fierce. Stork blinked and looked again. Yes, it was true. One could say their hate-filled rivalry was legendary, especially with the way they ignored everybody else during their feisty encounters. It was as though they had their own little circle that no one could ever dare to enter, because of one possible consequence. Stork knew very well what that was: death. If any of the Storm Hawks or the Cyclonians tried to get in their way, they would end up either burned or dead, because the rivals couldn't focus on anything else. They could only focus on trying to kill each other. Even now, Radarr was no longer flying with Aerrow, seated safely behind Piper on her heliscooter. It was too fierce. It was too intense, like the very fires of the old dragons. It was... strange. Stork blinked again. Very strange, indeed. The Condor was calm again, and the Storm Hawks, save for himself and Aerrow, had gone to bed. Stork didn't want to sleep. Enemies often took advantage of one's vulnerability, like Dark Ace and the rest of his ilk. He needed to warn Aerrow about that, because Aerrow was too reckless, too similar to Dark Ace. But sometimes, he had to remind himself that Aerrow was just a fourteen-year-old boy. He was standing next to Stork, gazing at the black sky, seemingly in deep thought. Stork cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "Something on your mind?" Stork inquired softly. Aerrow laughed. "I thought the same with you." Stork arched an eyebrow. Aerrow could be witty too. "Well, actually, yes, there is something on my mind." He paused for a moment and wondered how Aerrow was going to react to this. "You ever notice that every time you fight Dark Ace, it is as if you are in another world, as if..." Aerrow was staring at him now, his eyes burning with that same emotion, something strong and fierce, but he couldn't identify it. Maybe it was intensity. He had always thought it was hatred, but if it was hatred, then the battles wouldn't be so focused, so concentrated, so artfully and seemingly planned. "What do you mean by that?" Aerrow inquired, looking surprised with his widened eyes, if not defensive even. "He's the enemy. He has to be taken down, and besides, I know he's not really interested in fighting the other Storm Hawks." He smiled this time. "And that's where he'll fall. Despite his loyalty to Master Cyclonis, he doesn't care much about his other teammates except for his master." "But that's exactly the point," Stork said with a sigh. "If you're not careful, that will happen to you too. Your obsession can be your weakness as well." "You're worrying too much," Aerrow said with another carefree laugh. He patted Stork's shoulder and smiled again. "I appreciate the concern, but considering that I'm the leader of this team, I think I can handle myself." Stork snorted. "If you say so." For once, Stork was not steering the Condor. He was in his room, cuddled up in his warm blankets. He couldn't sleep, though. Every time he closed his eyes, the dreams that he thought would come turned into nightmares. Many times it'd leave him gasping for air. Other times he'd feel as though he would never wake up. A sudden thump on the wall snapped him out of his thoughts. Okay, now he didn't want to sleep. How could he sleep with all of those random noises? He sighed and got up. He took off his pajamas, put on his uniform and his gadgets, lest there'd be mind worms. If anything, he should be back in bed, somewhat safe in his blankets, but if it concerned the Condor, then he needed to protect her. Finally satisfied with his preparation, he slid the door open and listened carefully to the intruders. Breathing. There were two people breathing loudly. No, one was panting and the other was whispering hoarsely. He didn't like the sound of that. He let his hand feel for the light and finally switched it on. Silence. Now the voices became louder, and he realized then that there were two male voices. He hoped they weren't Finn and Junko going for midnight snacks again. That'd tend to wake up Piper, and things could really turn ugly from there. He decided that he should investigate and tiptoed towards the voices. Once he was near enough, he realized that if he went any further, if he turned left on this corner, he wouldn't be able to necessarily go back. There was a huge possibility that what he might face was one of the Cyclonians or even worse, in his opinion, those Raptors. He didn't really like any intruders or anyone messing with his beloved Condor. He took a deep breath and tilted his head to the side. A sense of dread and shock filled him at the betraying sight. Dark Ace was here, and not only was he here, he was pinning Aerrow against the wall with his body. Stork expected them to fight, for Dark Ace to suddenly punch or stab Aerrow, and for Aerrow to retaliate by pushing him away, but none of that happened. Instead, Dark Ace was pressing his mouth against Aerrow's, and Aerrow was actually enjoying it as he moaned throatily. Stork wanted to stop them; he wanted to stop looking or even to look away, but he couldn't. He watched, engrossed, as they continued to kiss. He could see the flashes of tongue and hands wandering on the areas of the bodies that should be hidden. "Open your eyes," Dark Ace whispered. So the hoarse voice came from him. Why couldn't Stork recognize that tone of voice earlier? Was Stork losing his touch? Or maybe he just didn't want to believe it? Aerrow complied, and there it was again, that strong and fierce emotion glimmering in his green eyes. They finally broke the kiss, and the two seemed to finally realize that they weren't in the dark anymore. They moved away from the wall, practically tearing each other's clothes off as they headed towards what probably was Aerrow's room. Even with Aerrow picking up their tops, Dark Ace couldn't keep his hands off him. Those large hands that could choke and kill were sliding down Aerrow's lean and naked back. Then he locked his arms around Aerrow and began to feast upon his exposed neck. It took all of his will to finally turn away and return to his room. He certainly didn't want to see any more of that. It was one of those fine and calm days in the Condor again, and Stork supposed that it was convenient that everybody except him and Aerrow were playing a game of Keep Away outside of the ship. Aerrow was definitely good at that game, especially with the snatching and being fast and elusive. They were both standing in the bridge like last time. Stork stared at his leader and frowned. "I saw what happened a few days ago." "So you're the one who turned on the lights," Aerrow said with that brilliant smile of his. He could fool a lot of people with that pretentious smile, but he couldn't fool Stork. No, Stork was far older than any of them and thus had more experience. It was one of the reasons why he was so paranoid and distrustful. "Yes, I was, but trying to change the subject doesn't really suit you, you know," Stork said with his own little grin. Aerrow arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "And if you try to deny or lie, that doesn't suit you either. So maybe you should just tell the truth." "But if I told you the truth, then you would think I'd be lying," Aerrow said with another small laugh. "Because what you assumed was before, and what you assume now, and what you will assume later on, just won't make any sense until everything is all done with." "Well, whatever you are doing with him, if the others find out, we'll all be doomed," Stork said. "But I think you already know that." Aerrow could be banned from being a Sky Knight for sleeping with the enemy. "It's not that simple," Aerrow said softly. "It just started off as another way to fight, another way to gain control, with him having the upper hand in the beginning." He stared at his hands with a thoughtful look on his face. Stork couldn't read him at all. "But then it turned into something else, into what it is now." "But if you allow this to continue, you'll not only destroy your crew, you'll destroy yourself," Stork warned. "Do you really think you can get through with him with the way you're doing things now? You said so before; he is the enemy. He needs to be taken down." Aerrow suddenly laughed again, though this particular laugh was hollow and bitter. "Yeah, I did, though I didn't intend it to be that way." He turned around then and stared at Stork with that same, contemplative look. "If you tell the rest of the Storm Hawks, though, I won't hold you back. Maybe I'll learn from my mistakes that way, to take full responsibility of my actions." Stork chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think I need to. I think you already know what's coming up. And I bid you good luck on that." "Thanks," Aerrow murmured, nodding his head. "Just give me some time. The war with Cyclonia is almost over." "Almost," Stork muttered. "Next thing you know, it'll take another ten or twenty years before something is finally resolved." "We're getting there, though," Aerrow said with hope shining in his eyes. None of that strange, intense emotion. None of that traitorous lust. Stork truly feared for his leader. He wouldn't want him to become the next Dark Ace. But who knew? One couldn't judge too soon, after all. Fin. A/n: I apologize for the suckiness of this written piece. College English destroyed and raped whatever confidence I had in writing, and I haven't been feeling up to writing until now. Not only that, I haven't written anything for this fandom in months, so uh, yeah. Sorry! And, I think this is the first time I've really written anything in Stork's POV, and also the first time in months I've written a long-ish one-shot.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Alternate Fates Chapter 1: Alternate Fates On the first day, Nina fled the state. She really hadn't wanted to do it, but circumstances forced her to kill Teri Bauer. If she had been more careful, if she had kept quiet instead of telling her that she was heading to Germany, then Teri would have survived. "I'm leaving now, Teri, someone will find you soon," she had said, and both of those were very much the truth. If Teri thought it meant that she was going to survive, then it made things easier for the two of them as Nina aimed the gun at her back. Two bullets later, and the world had changed forever. Suddenly, Nina was on the move, and she knew that she had limited time before she was discovered and before Jack would return from the docks. It was hard, not just because of the exhaustion, but because she loved the adrenaline rush she felt from it all, even if she was equal parts terrified at the same time. Sometimes she would wonder why she was wired the way she was. As she came across guard after guard, she shot them with no hesitation, almost as if to make a statement that security was a facade. That there was no security, not for people like her and not from people like her. Climbing into her car, the distance between the parking space and the exit seemed to be the most distant of all so far that night, and she was sure that a black SUV would appear out of nowhere before she could even begin to drive off. The first time she saw Jack after the death of his wife was when she passed him a few moments later, noticing a look of pure fury on his face. On the second day, Jack laid in wait. It had been some hours since the nuke had been destroyed out in the desert, along with a plane and the mortal body of the heroic George Mason. Sacrificing himself to save millions before war had been narrowly averted to save millions more. Nina Myers was about to leave CTU, to go into exile in another desert. As she was escorted out of the holding room, Nina was exhausted but she still reveled in her victory. Yes, she had to stay put in North Africa for a while, lying low until her escape plan could be put into action, but things were much better for her than they had been twenty hours previously. Jack had promised to hunt her down no matter what, moments after she had failed to kill him and remove one of the biggest threats to her survival, but she put that out of her mind. She was sure that he would bide his time, just like she would bide hers, allowing her to think that he had simply forgotten and moved on enough not to care about his revenge. However, as Jack appeared suddenly from around a corner, she realized that she was wrong. Jack had been standing near the room for some time, just waiting for the guards to begin the short journey to the rear doors of the building. He had wanted to shoot her as soon as he could see her face, see the pale green eyes he had once gazed lovingly into as he committed an act of hate. Instead, he watched as she was slowly moved closer to him before he took a deep breath and emerged from the shadows. The guards had reacted quickly, but they couldn't stop the two bullets he managed to fire. One missed her entirely, but the other struck her straight in her heart, and she was dead before she hit the floor. On the third day, they had an alternate fate. This was the end, and both of them knew it. Moments before, she had raised her gun and threatened his daughter, only for him to shoot her for real this time. No flak jacket, no pretense. Now Kim had left, and it was just them two alone, in the room where Teri had been killed. Almost as if it was meant to be. He walked closer to her, and time seemed to move like molasses before he stopped and spoke. "You don't have any more information, do you, Nina?" Jack asked, although the answer was obvious. They both knew she had no idea, that she had been using the possibility to help her survive. Still, she was a fighter who never gave up if there was still some sort of chance. "I do," she replied weakly, hating how her voice sounded. She had always known that the game had to come to a conclusion at some point, they were never going to move on with both of them still in the world. Still, she had no intention of going out pitifully, like some wounded animal put out of its mercy by the hunter. That was why her hand drifted towards her gun, even though it was impossible for her to reach it. "No, you don't," Jack had replied, and he was about to shoot in order to win the game, to avenge his wife, who would never have wanted revenge in the first place. Suddenly, a noise from elsewhere in the room, as another actor appeared on stage. "Bauer, what are you doing?" Chappelle spoke, his eyes darting between the two before they settled on Jack, who turned to look at him and made a fatal mistake. With every last bit of strength she could muster, Nina lunged for her gun, just as Jack realized what she was doing, and, with perfect synchronicity, two bullets crashed into two foreheads. They had always thought one would find victory. Instead, both tasted defeat.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Ashes Fallen Chapter 1: Ashes Fallen Go ascend with ivy, climbing. Ignore and leave for me the headstone crumbling behind. The door slammed shut in his face, and he stared unmoving at its lifeless wooden panels. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely under his breath, choking on the condemnation the empty words evoked. Holding back a myriad of bitter emotions, he turned and deliberately began walking down the cold concrete stairs, listening vacantly to the hollow echo of his footsteps. Throughout the long years of his life, Jack Bauer had made a point of never cowering away from what he felt was right. He'd lost friends and jobs and lovers over his steadfast principles, yet to those beliefs he remained unfalteringly true—even in his darkest hours. This time was no different. He would do what had to be done, no matter what the cost. He had to, because that was all that was left to define him. Standing on her porch, frozen in front of her door, Jack watched as dried leaves fell from trees and fluttered delicately back to earth like weary paper angels. A bitter half-chuckle passed his lips as he reached for the knocker. When Kate opened the door, it was like a rush of spring hit the crisp autumn air. In that moment of unrivaled beauty, a cold terror seized Jack's heart, and he once again considered abandoning his plan. But he looked at her face, the way it radiated such warmth, and he knew she deserved better. Better than he had to offer. Better than a drug-soaked shadow of deceitful imperfection. He was on the verge of sacrificing his soul for a cover, and she deserved better. He knew what he had to do for this operation to succeed—what he had already done—and he wouldn't drag her down with him. No, he would do this. "Jack!" "Hi," he said quietly, wrenching his attention back to her. "Come in, come in," Kate said, smiling, shivering at the cold. She paused, searching his expression, her face darkening as she caught the glint of steely pain in his eyes. She had seen it before, he knew, when he would sit alone and remember Teri. When he would silently curse himself for never being good enough, for never doing enough. His hands were drenched in blood and stained with the consistency of failure. "What is it?" Kate asked, gently laying her hand on Jack's arm to guide him inside. He stepped into the foyer and let her shut the door behind him, taking the time to shove his trembling hands back into his coat pockets. "We need to talk," he said blankly. Jack could see the lovely creases by her eyes deepen as she furrowed her delicate brow and tightened her jaw. A stray lock of vibrant blond hair dangled out of place in front of her face, and he yearned to tuck it back behind her ear. But those times were about to end forever, cast aside like a disposable razor blade. "Kate," his voice sounded strained, and he damned himself for it. She stepped forward, closer to him, and he stepped back, pulling further away. "It's over. I'm sorry." Kate reeled back in shock, her sparkling blue eyes wide. "What?" she asked, visibly trying to convince herself she'd misinterpreted his stark words. "It's not going to work—between us—we can't—it's...over," Jack's voice stuck in his throat as he stumbled over crude sounds, desperately trying to force them into articulate speech. "Jack, I...I don't understand. Talk to me, please. Tell me, explain it to me. Please," she begged, unshed tears glittering against her desperately searching eyes. But he gave her nothing. Nothing but cold words that wouldn't offer any comfort. "I can't." He watched her face fall, the color draining away and leaving a mask of hurt anger in its wake; his heart shattered once more, torn by the pain he himself had caused. "So that's it then? It's over? Just like that?" "Kate..." he said softly, "I—it's for the best. Trust me." "You should go," she said in a softly commanding tone, tears falling from her eyes like crystal shards, glimmering in agony. Jack took one last look at her; at the life he'd walked into and crushed. Like a delicate flower seduced by the dying days of summer then betrayed by winter's frost. Kate would never know why he was ending their relationship. She would never know how much it pained him to do this. How much he wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her that it was okay, that he'd make it all better. But he couldn't. He opened his mouth, unable to simply walk out the door, and was left clinging to a small sliver of resolve, gasping for air. "I love you," he said in desperation, his velvety voice grating against his ears. "Then why?" Jack didn't answer. He couldn't. There was nothing he could say or do. It was over; he had killed it. "You should go," she repeated simply, her voice oddly devoid of emotion. Jack numbly obeyed; the hurt searing behind Kate's eyes forever burned into his mind. It's for the best, he told himself again. But that didn't stop the tearing pain from ripping apart what little remained of his being and splattering it in a rain of blood-soaked ashes. Dried leaves fell from autumn trees, just as death fell back to earth.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Chloe is Not Herself Tonight *Chapter 1: Not Wanting to Go* I do not own 24 or any of the characters in it, and I do not own the song "Not Myself Tonight." I would like to acknowledge Christina Aguilera for creating this awesome song. I also do not own the lyrics or any associated websites, and I did not create those sites. Additionally, I do not own any DCU centers. Some of the characters in this story are from previous seasons, and some are not deceased. This story also contains spoilers for Season 8 characters. Brian Hastings walked down the stairs from his office. "May I have your attention, please?" he asked. The CTU workers turned their heads in his direction. "I want to congratulate everyone for all of their hard work on catching the last terrorist," Brian said to the staff. "Since there are no more terrorists to catch, I have planned a get-together party at a DCU center." The staff cheered, except for Chloe. "What's wrong, Chloe?" Nadia asked her. "We caught the last terrorist, yeah, but having a party after all of this?" Chloe asked. "You have to come," Dana told her. "It will be fun, and it will help loosen you up." Chloe glared at her, thinking, *Only you, Ms. Perfect*. "She's right," Nadia told her. "Go away before I crash this computer and all of our files are gone," Chloe said, as Nadia walked away. "So, are you coming to the party?" Cole asked her. Ten minutes later, Cole asked again. "No," Chloe said for the fifth time. Fifteen minutes later, Brain Hastings approached her. "I hope you will be coming, Mrs. O'Brian," he said. "No," Chloe said with irritation. Twenty minutes later, Arlo asked her again. "So, did you change your mind?" Arlo asked. "If I said 'yes', will people stop asking me?" she asked him. "Yes," everybody in the room replied in unison. "Fine," Chloe said. "I'll come, but just don't ask me to dance." *Chapter 2: Not Myself Tonight* I do not own 24 or the song, and I have modified the lyrics slightly. The characters in this story are out of character, as is typical in my fanfiction writing. I also do not own the song "Pop, Lock, and Drop It." Chloe was at her house, getting ready for the party. "I don't get why everybody wants me to go," she asked herself. "Even Ms. Perfect wanted me to go. So annoying." She fiercely combed her hair and got dressed, wearing black pants, high heels, and the black shirt she had worn to work. She left her apartment, got in her car, and drove to the DCU center. When she arrived, she saw all of the staff members there, some of whom were dancing and drinking. "Let's just get this over with," Chloe said to herself. She took a glass of tequila and sat in the corner, watching the people have fun. "Chloe," Jack said, approaching her with Renee. "Having fun?" "Does it look like it?" Chloe asked, as she started to drink her second glass of tequila. "Uhhhhh," Jack said, "I'll talk to you later," and he walked away to dance more with Renee. After drinking a bit more, Chloe felt a sense of recklessness. She made her way to the crowd. "Hey, Chloe," Brian Hastings said to her. "Glad you made it." Chloe began to sing: *You know, tonight I am feeling a little out of control. Is this me? You wanna get crazy?* Hastings looked at her, surprised. Chloe continued: *Because I don't give a...* The staff turned their heads in her direction. "Is she dancing?" Nadia asked Milo. "You are beyond normal now," Tony told her. Chloe sang on: *Cause I'm doing things that I normally won't do.* "I'll say," Bill said. Chloe continued: *The old me's gone, I feel brand new. And if you don't like it, too bad for you.* "Who wouldn't like that?" Arlo asked, not taking his eyes off her. Chloe sang: *The music's on, and I'm dancing. I'm normally in the corner, just standing. I'm feeling unusual. I don't care, because this is my night.* "Shake it, shake it," Milo told her. Chloe continued: *I'm not myself tonight. Tonight, I'm not the same girl, same girl. I'm not myself tonight. Tonight, I'm not the same girl, same girl.* "Whoo," Arlo said, shaking his head. Chloe sang: *Someone call the doctor, because I lost my mind.* "I wish you were my girlfriend!" Cole yelled at her. Dana's jaw dropped. "Cole?" she said angrily. "What?" Cole asked her. "You're nothing." Chloe sang again: *The music's on, and I'm dancing. I'm normally in the corner, just standing. I'm feeling unusual. I don't care, because this is my night.* The boys joined in: *One, two, three, four.* Chloe sang: *In the morning, when I wake up, I'll go back to the girl I used to be. But baby, not tonight.* Morris jumped up and down, singing, "Toot thang up, mami, make it roll. That's my ex-wife!" he yelled. Chloe sang: *That's right. Come on. Give it to me now, don't stop.* "Go, Chloe, go!" the boys yelled. She stopped singing. "Wow!" Brain Hastings yelled. "Great show, great show! Okay, let's go home." "What?" the staff complained. "It seems that we have disturbed a meeting that's happening on the second floor of this building," Hastings explained. "How do you know?" Dana asked. "A cop told me," Hastings replied. "I saw the cop up there dancing with Chloe," Renee pointed out. "And it was awesome!" the cop yelled, "Whooo! Alright, pack up and beat it," he said, returning to his normal demeanor. The staff left the DCU center and returned home. Chloe had to be driven because she was intoxicated. Chloe walked into her house, bumping into furniture, and collapsed on her bed, not bothering to change. She fell fast asleep.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Date Night Chapter 1: Date Night Teri dug through her bag for her ringing cellphone. "Crap, I just put it in here." She muttered to herself as she searched. "Okay, well, I've got to run." "Okay, see you tomorrow, Kitty." She found the phone just as it stopped ringing. Her call display read "Unknown Number." Teri breathed a sigh of relief. It was 5:30 on a Friday afternoon, and the last thing she needed was one last change or question from a client. She loved her work, but didn't want to date it. Picking up her coat from the rack by the door, she flicked out the light and locked the door behind her. The elevator opened, and she walked past the empty deli in the lobby when she heard footsteps running behind her. "Teri!" She spun around, a smile on her face. "Jack? What are you doing here?" She asked, surprised. "I'm glad I caught you. I was just about to go upstairs." He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead and fell into step beside her. "This is a nice surprise. What brings you down here?" Teri asked, curious. "You, of course. Kim called, and she's going to Jocelyn's for pizza. They're going to rent a video. I was wondering if you wanted to do the same thing." He explained. She shrugged. "Order pizza and rent a video? Sure, I guess." At least she didn't have to cook. "No, I meant dinner and a movie," He laughed. "Doofus." His comment earned him a smack on the arm. "Hey! Don't call me a doofus. You said 'the same thing.'" She walked through the door he was holding for her. "Where do you want to go?" She asked. "Are you ready for this?" He asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. She nodded. "I made a reservation." He announced, proudly. She made a show of letting her jaw drop. "Wow, Jack! You learned how to use a phone! Good for you!" It was a pet peeve of hers that she always had to organize their evenings out. "Oh, stop. Italian okay?" He grinned and opened the passenger door of his SUV for her. "Ah, so it is pizza." She teased. "I hate you." He laughed. She kissed him. "Thanks for doing this." Her eyes were shining. Jack leaned in and kissed her back, properly this time. The restaurant was bright with evening sunlight. Jack had asked for a table on the patio, and they could see the clouds starting to turn pink over the ocean. They watched as the waiter poured a complicated pattern of olive oil and balsamic vinegar on a plate and left them a basket of bread. Teri broke off a piece of bread and dipped it. "Mmmm. Oh, this oil is great. Here, you've got to try it." She dipped the bread again and handed it to him. He leaned forward and took it with his mouth. "Yeah, that is good," he agreed. "I wonder what kind it is?" He liked to cook when he had the time, and they had gone on a tour of wineries and olive groves near Sonoma last fall. "So?" Teri settled back and raised her glass of Pinot Grigio. "Cheers." Jack raised his glass of Cabernet-Sauvignon. "Cheers. So?" He swirled the glass, sniffed, and took a sip, savoring the flavors. "Tell me about yourself. How's life?" Teri and Kitty joked that usually the only way they found out what their husbands were up to was when they overheard them telling someone else at a party. Between kids and work, they never had time for an actual conversation themselves. He gave a small laugh and smiled, his eyes crinkling. "You know? It's really good." "Is it, Jack?" She asked, curious. He tilted his head. "It is. I'm a lucky man. My daughter is doing great in school, I just got a promotion, I like the people I work with, and I have an incredibly hot wife." He said, with a grin. "Hot wife, huh?" She teased. "Incredibly," He took another sip of wine. "How about you?" "No hot wife, but otherwise, life is pretty good for me, too. Kitty and I are thinking about going out on our own." She said, sharing her plans. "Really? That would be fantastic. You should do it." He encouraged. "You think so?" She asked, seeking his opinion. "Absolutely, I do. I really do." He was enthusiastic. "The timing's great – Kim's old enough to look after herself now, this new job at CTU means I'll be around a lot more, and the money's better. Why not? Go for it." Teri nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I appreciate that. There's still a lot to figure out. But we're pretty excited about the idea." She said, considering their plans. "I'm sure you can make it work." He was supportive, but not interfering. They had a long-standing policy of not getting too involved in the details of each other's jobs. They chatted comfortably through dinner and dessert. Jack paid the bill and held her coat for her as she stood up. "We still have time to catch a movie if you want. There's a repertory theatre near here." He suggested. "What's playing?" She asked, curious. "The Spy Who Shagged Me." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, brother. You are too much, you know that?" She teased. He laughed. She looked thoughtful. "What time is Kim getting home?" She asked, checking the time. He checked his watch. "I told her 11:00. We've got time." He said, smiling. "You know what? I'm kind of tired. Why don't we just go for a little walk on the beach, and then go home and have the house to ourselves for a bit?" She suggested. "Sure. Sounds good. So no spy shagging?" He feigned disappointment. "Oh, I'm not that tired. I think there might still be some spy shagging." She teased, and took his hand as they found the stairs down to the beach.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Helpless Chapter 1: Helpless The worst part about imprisonment was the feeling of helplessness, of not being in control. He had always been strong, capable, and quick-minded, possessing all the qualities that made him a good field agent. However, these qualities did not serve him well as he was stripped and hauled up on a hook, his feet dangling a few inches from the ground. The room was dark, save for the spotlight that shone on him, a sort of weird third-degree interrogation, as if he were the star attraction in a filthy play. "You have to be getting tired of this treatment, Mr. Bauer," a voice said. "All we want is a name. A simple word is all it takes." That voice was one he had grown to despise. Jack said nothing, mentally bracing himself for whatever Cheng had in store for him. His silence was his only weapon, his only defense. As long as he remained silent, they would not, could not win. Something whistled behind him, and he arched his back in pain as a whip connected with his bare, scarred back. He wondered if they ever grew tired of beating him. Sometimes it was with fists, sometimes with whips, and sometimes they used chains, leaving broken bones in addition to welts and cuts. In a sick sort of way, he was glad they were content to use whips this time. "Who ordered the raid on our consulate?" Cheng asked pleasantly. Jack ground his teeth as another lash stung its way across his back, leaving another strip of fire-like pain. He turned his head, reminding himself not to speak. "How much more can you take?" Cheng asked, his voice laced with sadistic curiosity. It was a rhetorical question. As long as Jack kept silent, the pain would continue. Of course, he knew that. The whip struck his legs, snaking around his knee. Jack gasped, feeling sick now, his empty stomach cramping uselessly. "You are a stubborn man, aren't you?" Cheng observed. "Your compatriots have abandoned you, haven't they?" He laughed quietly, the sound sending a chill down Jack's spine. "Such loyalty should be rewarded, shouldn't it?" Cheng's laughter grew louder, and Jack nearly spat in anger, but the hook holding him up had lowered, and he swung his arms down, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in his captors' attention. He screamed as the taser was jabbed into his side, the electricity sending him tumbling to the ground in convulsions. "Don't try that again," Cheng warned, stepping into the light, holding a still-sparking taser. Jack glared up at his tormenter, but said nothing as Cheng knelt down beside him. The Chinese man brushed aside Jack's shaggy, unkempt hair, allowing him to get a clearer look at his prisoner's filthy, bruised face in a mockery of intimacy. "They'd hardly recognize you now, would they?" Cheng said, his voice dripping with malice. "Not the dashing crusader who brought down a corrupt president. But they never appreciated that." He nodded to someone in the darkness and slammed his hand down on Jack's neck, pinning him to the floor. Jack panicked as he felt a heavy weight settle across his back and hips. He squirmed, but his arms and hands were trapped beneath him, and Cheng bore down on his neck, keeping him pinned. Jack's mouth opened in a silent scream as the knife pierced his shoulder, a white-hot fire sliding down, carving deep letters into his flesh. Acid followed, licking his skin like a sick lover. Jack wailed, struggling and bucking against his tormenter's cruel hands. Jack screamed, his voice echoing in the nearly empty apartment, as he thrashed violently, reliving past horrors, past violations, and atrocities. "Jack, wake up, you're safe. Safe," a voice said, trying to calm him down. He struggled, still caught in the dream, as the soothing voice continued its monologue. "Jack, wake up, come back, you're safe, free. No one will hurt you, they can't get you anymore." He slowly came to, clawing his way out of the nightmare, the room of his apartment coming into focus as he turned his attention to the owner of the voice. Light brown hair framed a face that would have been pretty except for the constant scowl or smirk that graced it, one that was so familiar to him. "Chloe," Jack rasped. "How..." "I found you," she smiled, settling down beside him, passing him some water, which he gratefully drank. He smiled a little, feeling a sense of gratitude. She would find him, wouldn't she? She had set up the identity he was using. "Why? Morris..." "Is gone," she said, her voice laced with a mix of sadness and resignation. "It... he..." "If he hurt you, I'll..." Jack's eyes narrowed, his anger growing at the thought of Morris' drinking habit. "No," she said, shaking her head. "It just didn't work. We tried, but... I'm four months pregnant, and he couldn't deal." Jack looked confused. "So you came here," he said, trying to understand. "Why?" "You need me," she said bluntly. "And... I don't think I want to be alone." "Why me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you," she whispered back. He closed his eyes, feeling tears sting them. "You shouldn't," he said, his voice cracking. "I know," she said, her voice soft. "But I do. Crazy, isn't it?" She bowed her head, her eyes cast downward. "I'll leave if you want." Jack shook his head. "Stay, please." Chloe smiled a little, her hand brushing his cheek with a gentle finger, wiping away a tear. "Thank you," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. He smiled back, his lips tremulous. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so helpless after all.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Like Hours Chapter 1: Like Hours Archived at: Destiny Interrupted (my site - URL in profile) Warnings: [PG-13] Slash. Lime. Spoilers: Season Two, Episode 14 (9-10pm) Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respective copyright owners, like Fox. Plot, if you can call it that, belongs to me. Notes: As if I haven't said it enough times already: Kiefer is a sexy bitch. Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Blame for this fic lies with Windsor Blue! Jack Bauer was tired. He hadn't slept well the night before. Truth be told, he hadn't slept well for a year, and although the stars were bright in the sky outside, Jack knew the day was far from over. He'd been running on adrenaline for hours and he wanted sleep, but more than that simple comfort, he wanted answers. The man they had in custody either didn't know or wouldn't say anything useful. "Keep working on him," he said to the translator. The woman nodded and turned back to the prisoner, questioning him yet again in fluid Arabic about the location of the real bomb. Informing another agent of his intentions, Jack headed for the side door of the hangar. He needed some fresh air and just a minute or two to clear his head. He ran a hand over the cropped length of his hair and took in a great lungful of air as he stepped out into the night. The airport had been locked down and secured. A building away, people were being filed into an empty hangar for processing, but here it was quiet. Jack closed his eyes and leaned his back against the wall, trying very hard not to think about every precious second that was slipping by. His peace and quiet were shattered when the door swung open with a harsh, metallic squeak. Jack's hand immediately went towards his weapon. Until today, it had been a year since he had fired a gun, but all the training and habits that kept good agents alive had returned and were running at full force. When he saw who had come out to join him, he relaxed his posture - slightly - and nodded at the other man. "Agent Baker," he said, and his eyes flicked to the wedge of light that narrowed as the door closed of its own accord. "Where's Kate Warner?" "She's in the controlled area, waiting outside processing," Baker answered. "I came out here to give you an update, sir. There's still been no progress with the pilot." Jack nodded. He knew that; he'd just been in there a minute ago. He glanced at his watch and blinked. Make that four minutes. The time had sped past when he wasn't paying attention. With a mental sigh, he smoothed his hands down his face and kicked away from the wall. Enough screwing around, he had to go back inside and do his job. "Agent Bauer, sir," Baker said, his boot heel crunching on some broken glass as he took a half step back and nodded respectfully. "I wanted to say, it's been an honor working with you tonight." There was a subtle note of hesitation in the younger agent's voice, and Jack could see that he didn't hold out much hope that they would find the bomb in time. He studied Baker's face, noting the high, fine cheekbones and measured the look in the man's dark eyes. They may not have been brimming with hope, but they still burned with determination. Baker wasn't the type to give up when the odds were worse than bad, and Jack nodded slowly - as much in approval as thanks. Then again, the odds were worse than bad. In a burst of spontaneity, Jack grabbed Baker by the shoulders and spun him around, pushing the other man against the wall. Baker's hand had gone towards his gun, and those dark eyes were locked with his; no doubt trying to gauge whether or not he had just lost his mind. The corner of Jack's mouth twitched, and he leaned forward slowly, cocking his head to the side. "Just say no," he said, his voice a rough purr, and his odd-colored eyes - the one blue, and the other green - were fixed firmly on Baker's. Feeling a bit of tension bleed out of the other man, Jack took the silence as consent and kissed Baker roughly. It had been a long time since he'd kissed another man, and he had forgotten just how different it was from kissing a woman. His eyes slid closed as he felt a swipe of tongue against his upper lip. The questing tongue that met his was just as demanding as his own, and he felt the rough scrape of stubble against his lower lip. Growing out of something desperate and needy, it was a harsh kiss that bordered on violent. The two men crushed their mouths together, and each brush of Baker's lips against Jack's tasted steeped in the heady wickedness of irresponsibility. What felt like hours later, Jack loosened his hold on Baker's uniform and broke the kiss. The blood rushed back into his knuckles as he released the other man, and his eyelids fluttered as he blinked in rapid succession. "Sir," Agent Baker said. He licked his lips, and his nostrils flared as he drew in a breath to compose himself. Jack tried to speak, but had to clear his throat. "Let's go find that bomb," he said to the other agent. Ready to get back to the task at hand, Baker spared a glance at his watch as he reached for the door handle. The seconds were ticking by on the digital face, and he glanced up at Jack to give him a firm nod. "After you."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Moving Forward, Dreaming Back Chapter 1: Moving Forward, Dreaming Back Flashback: Chloe gave a tipsy giggle after she downed the rest of Chase's whiskey and handed the empty glass back to him. "Now, get another and tell me why you wanted to do this?" she ordered in a voice that was remarkably normal-sounding for someone on her fourth drink. Rolling his eyes, Chase waved at the bartender to bring a third shot for him. After the glass of amber liquid was set in front of him, he hunched over with an agitated look. "Chloe, how do you know when you're in love?" he asked. Incredulous, Chloe replied, "You're asking me?" With a dark chuckle, Chase admitted, "Okay, bad question. Let me rephrase it. Am I in love?" Chloe sipped the coffee she'd switched to. "Are you in love...with who? Chase, spell it out for heaven's sake." Discomfort was obvious, as Chase played with the napkin from under his glass. After a few seconds, he looked up. "Promise you won't hate me." The man's eyes were wide and childlike, filled with real fear. "Oh, Chase," Chloe sighed in frustration. Laying one hand on his arm, she said intensely, "I could never hate you, Chase. Not even if you went rogue and joined some random terrorist faction. You're my best friend, my only friend, really." A long, shuddering sigh signaled Chase's surrender to whatever was eating him. He leaned forward and buried his face in the junction of Chloe's neck and shoulder, while one arm wrapped loosely around her back. While not discouraging the gesture, she didn't actively participate either. His voice muffled by her shoulder, he admitted, "I think I'm in love with Kim." The flush that rose to his face at the admission made the tips of his ears red. Chloe groaned. "Chase, you're worried I'll hate you because you love Kim? You're an idiot." She patted his back. "It's just," he looked up at her with panicked eyes, "I don't think...You're the only girl, other than my family, I really like. I think I'm crazy." After a moment's consideration, Chloe disagreed, "No, you're not. You're drunk." Annoyed, Chase glared but continued. "Then why do I feel all weird about this?" Wondering why Chase had to go and make everything so complicated, Chloe rolled her eyes. "Chase," she said, exasperated, "you like me a lot." Chase nodded reluctantly, not quite following. "Do you want to have sex with me?" Yelping, Chase pulled back as if he had been burnt. The frankness of her gaze made him swallow hard, but he admitted, "Not sex, not really. No offense or anything." She waved it off. "None taken. But my point is, you don't have to feel guilty about caring about Kim." Cutting him off as he opened his mouth, "You like me a lot more than you like most people, but you need someone you can also get sex from." She paused and added as an afterthought, "And who is relatively normal. That's kind of hard to find in our line of work." There was a long moment where Chase stared at his friend. Downing his drink in one large gulp, he slammed the glass on the bar. "I don't know if I should be relieved...or insulted you just made me sound like some college kid." He drove her nuts sometimes. "Chase," she said in irritation, "it's not a bad thing. You're just wired that way. And no matter how much we like each other, you're just not going to sleep with me 'cause that's just not how we are. You and Kim are like that, I kinda saw, you know." Chase blushed again, remembering the awkward encounter. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can't believe I'm talking about this with you..." To keep him from withdrawing, Chloe gave him a clumsy, unexpected hug. "You listen to me rant about female problems. This is the least I can do," she reassured him. Through it all, she forced down the instinctive jealousy that another woman, the same one, was moving in on both of her men. End Flashback "Hey, I know where you can get some more broadband for free." The guy leaned across the table from her. The sweet-sour smell of whiskey blew into her face on his hot breath. Cool and heavy, the TASER Chase had gotten her rested easily in her hand. It was only a matter of badly acted interest to get the man to sit down next to her. He leaned forward, reminding her of Chase, minus the loopy grin, comfortable familiarity, and affection. She tasared him out of anger more than anything else. Anger that he was where Chase should be, he had no right to sit in her best friend's place. So what, she'd never really gotten over it, and Jack kept pulling away, first towards Kim, now Audrey. Lonely was a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time. Not since she met Chase, and definitely not since the two of them had joined up with Jack. She missed the days when she would find Jack sleeping on her couch or fall asleep with Chase using her lap as a pillow while they sat up with a colicky Angela. The time when she had either one dependent on her was a happy one. She got the job done, she always did. But she found herself staring at the pay phone. It would be so easy just to walk over, push in a few quarters, and call Chase. He would come, she knew, despite the curfew, danger, and obstacles, he would come if she asked. The buzzing of her cell phone broke her from the temptation. Chase remained in bed, Angela sleeping on his chest, unaware of his friend's situation.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 My Prince has come, so now what Chapter 1: My Prince has come, so now what She made quite a sight. Her high heels had been lost under her desk long ago and replaced with a pair of sneakers that she luckily had left at CTU. However, there had been no time to change, so she was still clad in the short, form-fitting black dress that had nearly killed him earlier that evening. Her hair was now a mess, held back in a tangle with a rubber band, her eyes were closed, and he thought she might be the best thing he'd ever seen in his life. "Hey," he whispered, bending down next to her chair. "Hmm," was the answer, sleepy and quiet, "Jack?" "Yeah, come on, it's time to go home." "Tired," she whispered and let her head roll onto his shoulder. "I know, but you'll sleep much better in a bed, come on." He put his arm around her waist to help her up, but suddenly she snapped up, wide awake, "Jack?" she asked again. "Still me. Come on, time to go home and sleep." "What time is it?" "2 am." She groaned as he grabbed her small purse and headed for the door. "So much for our romantic night out." "Yeah, well, we'll try again tomorrow." By now they were almost to his car, and Chloe was wide awake, cranky, and the lack of sleep and irritation allowed her to say things she usually kept to herself. "We say that every time, and it never happens. If I didn't know better, I'd think the fates were plotting to keep us from ever having sex." She flushed as soon as the words were out and ducked into his car with an angry huff. Jack couldn't help but smile at how adorable she was. He got in the car and turned towards her, she studiously ignored him, as she always did when she was embarrassed or unsure. "Chloe, I know it's been kind of crazy lately, but I promise that we will find a time to be together. I just really want it to be perfect." "Well, I just really want to be with you, perfect or not," Chloe spat out at him. She seemed to realize the harshness of her words a moment later, "I'm sorry, I just meant, we keep waiting for the perfect moment, for the perfect romantic moment, and I just don't need any of it. And all this waiting, it's just... it's making me..." "Making you what?" "I just... it's making me wonder if maybe there's another reason you keep putting the brakes on? I mean, we've been together for almost two months now, and I've been ready since that first night. Maybe you aren't sure?" "Chloe, of course, I'm sure. All I want is to be with you." "Then what's the problem?" her voice sounded so small and unsure he wanted nothing more than to gather her close to him. So he did that, dragging her slight body over the console between them and into his lap, kissing her fiercely. As he let her catch her breath, he berated himself. He had been so preoccupied with making everything romantic and perfect that he had stopped paying attention to Chloe and what she needed. Obviously, her insecurities must have been building for a while, and tonight she could not hold it in any longer. And now he needed to set things right. "I never meant to make you think that I didn't want you, because nothing could be farther from the truth. I've wanted you for so long I can't remember when I didn't. I just... I didn't want to mess this up. You've seen my relationships since Terri died. Both of them were a mess." "Yeah, well, my love life hasn't exactly been perfect. I mean, I've only had two real relationships in my life, and both have ended pretty badly. And well, you saw how things worked out with Spencer." "Spencer is a horse's ass." "True, but still, not exactly a great track record, plus, I'm..." "What?" She took a deep breath, "I'm not exactly like the other women you go out with. I'm an anti-social, sarcastic, easily irritated computer geek." "Chloe, that's what I love about you. Did you think I was comparing you to someone else?" "No, just... I don't know. I'm just not used to someone like you being interested in me. You know, you're sweet, and you treat me good, and you're smart, and you never act like I'm... " she paused, sighed, and frowned, "you know, weird." "That's because I don't think you're weird. Listen, Chloe, I don't want you to change or to try and fit into a mold of what you think I want. All I want, all I need is you, every single sarcastic, anti-social, irritated inch of you." Chloe smiled, "Well, I want the same thing. I just want you to be yourself. I don't want you to feel like you have to be perfect all the time or that you suddenly need to protect me from yourself. We've always been honest with each other, and I really don't want that to stop." "You know, I think the problem here is that we are trying too hard. We're trying so hard to be what we think we should be that we stopped being us. So let's just go back to being Jack and Chloe." "That sounds good. But, uh, are the old Jack and Chloe going to be having sex anytime soon?" Jack laughed and held Chloe closer to his chest. He kissed her deeply and decided that now was the perfect time, "I can get us home in under ten minutes if I speed." Chloe jumped back into her own seat and buckled up, "Well, then, step on it."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Strawberries and Kisses Chapter 1: Strawberries and Kisses Reviews are always appreciated. "Michelle, your kids are super cute," said one friend. Others quickly murmured in agreement. Michelle glanced up and smiled. She chopped up the remaining fruit, threw it into a bowl, and swiveled around to check out the scenery while wiping her hands on her apron. Her children couldn't be acting more differently. Her son was chatting animatedly with Tony's parents on the couch. From his hand gestures, she could tell he was talking about the treehouse Tony had built for him in their backyard. She gave a subconscious half-smile as she remembered James being unable to sleep for a week when his daddy announced he was going to build a treehouse all for him. As soon as he was home from school, he would bounce towards the window ledge and stare into the garden, watching in awe at Tony hard at work. When he saw the finished product, both she and Tony thought his eyes would literally pop out of his head. On the other side of the room, she spotted Sadie holding onto her husband's leg for dear life. Her light brown curls were tied up in a hopeless hairstyle by Tony that made Michelle's hands itch to change it. Not quite three years old, she was still very shy. Even as Michelle watched now, one of her mother's friends bent down to Sadie's level to say hello, causing Sadie to back-twist behind Tony's leg. Her face pressed into his jeans, she waited a good few moments before peering around to see if the coast was clear. Tony always had one hand in hers, giving the reassurance she needed. "I love Sadie's pale skin, but you can see the Japanese in her. She really is you," the voice of her mother's friend broke Michelle from her thoughts, and she hummed happily in response. There was no denying it. Sadie was a miniature version of her, like James was a small version of Tony. She loved that James looked like Tony, while he loved their little girl looking the image of her mother. "Are you having a glass of champagne, Michelle?" "No, Mom, I'm going to —" The sound of her daughter's wail rang loudly in her ears. Head turning, she saw Tony picking Sadie up from the floor. Michelle immediately made her way over. "She just got knocked over by some of the bigger kids as they ran past," Tony declared as she approached his side. He was ready to hand over. Their daughter was currently going through a phase of whenever there were tears; Michelle would be the one she wanted. "Aww, c'mere baby." Michelle rested Sadie on her hip and dried the tears from her cheeks as she made her way back toward the kitchen. "You want some fruit, huh?" Sadie nodded solemnly. "Hey, Princess Sadie, are you okay?" Michelle's mom appeared next to them. Sadie held up her forefinger from her left hand, which was looking slightly red. "Oh no! Grandma kisses it better for you?" Sadie tilted her head and hunched her shoulder. Several loud kiss noises later, and Sadie was smiling again. Michelle continued food preparations with Sadie on her hip. She gave her a continuous supply of strawberries. Her friend re-approached. "Michelle, you're so lucky." She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?" "I mean your husband," her friend gestured towards him. "The way he looks at you." Michelle looked over to where Tony was standing and unwittingly locked eyes with him. His eyes penetrated through hers. There was no mistaking that look in them. He was irrevocably in love with her, and it showed. She found herself lost in his eyes. It wasn't until she felt a small pair of arms wrap around her neck that she realized she was staring. He gestured his head at her for her to join him. Gliding over, she felt a bit lightheaded. She quickly shoved a couple of strawberries in her mouth to give her a sweet rush. By his side, she didn't notice him wink at his friend at the back of the room as she placed Sadie on the floor next to them. The clinking sound of a knife being tapped against a glass hushed the room. Michelle was puzzled and tried to catch her husband's eyes. Tony cleared his throat and nodded at his friend. "Thanks, Matt." "This will be quick," he said. He felt his wife stiffen next to him as she realized he was making a speech, so he glanced down at her. Looking back, she could see his eyes dancing, and she softened. "I just wanted to say thank you to you all for coming. We both really appreciate it." He kissed Michelle's forehead. "I just wanted to say —" Still holding her around the waist, he turned his body to face hers. "The past five years have been the best years of my life..." "Don't you let Nina hear you say that!" someone heckled. Tony cut his eyes to the side and stared daggers at the heckler. He felt Michelle shake slightly. Pulling her even closer, he continued, holding her gaze. "You've given me two amazing children, and I thank you and love you from the bottom of my heart. So, please, raise your glasses to my beautiful wife, Michelle." "To Michelle!" came various voices. He leaned her back over his arm and kissed her. Not just a peck, but a real kiss. She melted as he felt all his emotions in the kiss. The crowd whooped and clapped. "Mm, strawberries," he whispered when they came up for air. "You taste good." She flushed a slight pink.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 The Last Word *Chapter 1: The Last Word* Audrey Raines took a deep breath, straightened out her suit, and pushed open the door to the holding room. It was dark, with only two fluorescent lights shining from the back wall. Her eyes were quick to adjust to the harsh atmosphere of the rarely occupied place. Lynn McGill was standing a few feet away, hands rubbing at his tired face. The day had been more stressful than normal, and Audrey assumed that jumping into a terror situation such as this one would dredge up a whole lot of anxiety. Lynn's hands slid to his sides. "What the hell do you want?" he asked, sounding even more exhausted than he looked. Audrey opened her mouth to speak. "I, uh, just took a step back from work to meet with Jack's daughter. She's just found out that he's alive." Audrey stopped. Lynn was staring off into space, and she wasn't sure if he had heard. She cleared her throat. "It brought me back down to Earth. I felt like showing you a little compassion." She eyed him warily. "'Took a step back from work,' that's always comforting to hear!" Lynn gasped sarcastically. His fake jubilation quickly turned to a look of hopelessness and disgust. "This place is falling apart already. And as for you showing me some compassion? Don't even bother, I really doubt you're capable of it." He ran a hand through his hair and walked around the tiny room impatiently. Audrey rolled her eyes. "Lynn—" "Mr. McGill," he corrected in a sing-song tone. "—I came here to see if you understand why I had you taken out." Lynn raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, but the steely look never left his eyes. "Oh, I understand. I embarrassed you in front of your co-workers and you hit me back as hard as you could." Audrey looked taken aback, which amused him to no end. "You really are delusional," she muttered. "I'm not delusional. I'm realistic," Lynn stated flatly, the amusement gone from his face. "No, you were given too much authority and that's caused you to get a swelled head," Audrey insisted, an angry edge slowly creeping into her voice. "And you're letting your personal life interfere with your performance," he shot back, waiting for a reaction. *So he knows about me and Jack. Don't start getting all worked up,* Audrey thought, trying to stay calm and expressionless. "What are you talking about?" Lynn's temperature started to rise. He was so, so sick of repeating himself to the incompetent drones that filled CTU. "We're in the middle of a huge national security crisis. There are terrorists waiting out there with nerve gas, and you're spending our precious time making phone calls to your boyfriend!" "Jack is helping us," Audrey said, her eyes filled with defiance, lost as to why Lynn wouldn't trust Bauer to do his job. Lynn started pacing once more. "I don't want to hear it," he said, throwing his hands in the air. Audrey was growing more and more desperate to make him realize he was at fault. "If Bill were here right now, Chloe, Edgar, and I would have no need to sneak around. Mr. Buchanan values every bit of information CTU can get." Lynn stepped closer to Audrey, narrowing his eyes. His voice was bitingly cold. "You seem pretty fond of him too. Is that the big plan? To screw your way to the top?" For a moment, Audrey felt genuinely hurt by his insinuation, but she hid her feelings well. "I really hope you don't think I've used my relationship with Jack to get ahead at my job." Lynn laughed joylessly. "No, I don't. I take that back. Your dad took care of that." "You want to berate me, go ahead. But do not ever say a word about my father," Audrey warned. Lynn's face grew almost somber for a moment. "Your father is a great man. I just wish he'd passed that greatness onto you." "I've worked very hard to get where I'm at today. Don't belittle that because you slipped up," she said, staring into Lynn's eyes. In the last hour and a half, the two had been fighting a silent war against each other. That look was no different. Each was trying to will the other into giving up. Audrey searched for a sign of weakness. For a split second, Lynn allowed himself a look at her lips, and Audrey almost smiled. Lynn crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. "Are you done rambling?" he asked, sounding like a bored child. Audrey shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "Look, I came in here wanting to be respectful, but you've made it clear that there is nothing about you worth respecting." Lynn made a sad, puppy-dog face. "Aww, you're breaking my heart." Audrey took a step back towards the door. "I hope you know that Bill Buchanan is a hell of a great guy to have in charge around here, and he's also pretty damn forgiving. I'm willing to bet anything that you'll be back at work within a few hours. You'll be seeing an awful lot of me, and I'm done being civil." She looked him dead in the eye. "You're already starting to unravel, and you can be sure that I'll be around when you come undone." Still keeping her eyes locked on his, Audrey placed her hand on the doorknob. Lynn's voice grew more firm. "Oh, really?" "That's Ms. Raines." She didn't see him smile as she turned around and slammed the door.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 24 Thursdays in Constanta Chapter 1: Thursdays in Constanta Thursday, 5th May 2005 Three years and two months since Day One One year and eight months since Day Two One year and four months until Day Three 18:30 - Hotel room, Constanta, Romania "Dammit!" Nina slammed the laptop shut and glared at it for a moment, before standing up and walking away. Romanian agents had raided the meeting place hours before the deal was to go down. Both sides had already agreed on a backup location, but it was much less secure than the original. Closer to the city, too, which was bad enough without government agents on the lookout. Grabbing her phone, she dialed a number. "Hey, it's me. I need more men for tonight," she began as she studied the map pinned to the wall. Her local contacts were trustworthy, but this was a phone call she was not happy to make. "I can guarantee you four, but it'll cost," came the reply from a man with a thick Romanian accent. Nina contemplated the offer. It would give her eight guns in total, including her own. The number was a little high for her liking, but circumstances demanded extra hands. "Fine, make sure they're there," she replied before ending the call. Sighing, she slumped down onto the couch, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Sometimes, she missed her days working undercover back home. Whilst working for CTU was hardly the most mundane of jobs, it at least allowed her something of a normal life. Now that she could no longer do the kind of work she preferred, she was having to climb the ladder another way. That meant being a broker for something other than information. She had almost dozed off when her phone rang, much to her surprise. Picking it up, she hoped that it wasn't more bad news. If it was, she could be out of the country within hours, but she would only be causing problems with her client. "Hello?" "Hey, darling," came a reply from a woman with a Dublin accent. Nina's face lit up as a smile grew on her face. "Annie, I'm delighted to hear your voice," she replied. Not only because it wasn't bad news, but also because it had made her day. "I did say I was gonna call today, after all," Annie began. The noise around her suggested she was sat outside in the sprawling garden of their cottage. "Happy birthday, I can't wait to see you again." Nina thought for a moment before realizing. It was the fifth of May already? She had been so caught up in the deal that the past few weeks had flown by. Yes, it was her birthday, and Annie's call had made it so much better. "Thanks, sweetheart, I promise I'll be back for the weekend," Nina replied. She thought of the little cottage in the middle of the Irish countryside. The thatched home, with its dark green door and window frames, was miles away from anyone else. Perfect for getting away from everything, even if they did keep the place as secure as a fortress. Hidden guns in every room, security cameras looking out in all directions. "You better be, or I'll call Interpol myself," Annie replied with a laugh. Hours later, as the night was drawing in, the deal was reaching its conclusion. Inside the silver briefcase Nina was holding were three vials. She didn't know too much about the liquid inside, but the sickly green color seemed to be a warning sign. "It's done," the man sat at a table spoke in a thick accent that Nina couldn't place. Even his name had seemed ambiguous about his origins. She could only guess that he was from somewhere in Europe. "Good," she replied, smiling as she held out her free hand. Departing as soon as they had shaken hands, she walked with her men towards their cars. An urge to call Annie rose, but she resisted it. The Romanians might still pay them a visit, so she couldn't afford distractions. Until she was on her way home, she had to remain focused. As they touched down at the private airport, Nina noticed the client waiting for them. He had a grim look on his face, which seemed to be his default appearance. She was usually good at reading people, but he was proving to be difficult. Approaching him, she lifted the briefcase. "I have the product," she announced before handing it over. The sellers had called it a "prototype," an early stage of something even more sinister. He offered her a slight smile before taking out a flashlight. "Thank you, Ms. Myers," he replied before examining the vials. "My pilot will take you home now." Nina smiled back. A couple of million dollars richer, and she would soon be back home with her Annie. For the next few weeks, they were going to be the only people in existence. Making her way back to the plane, she was halfway up the stairs when he called out to her. She turned around, gripping the banister tight, as she hoped it was only something good. "This won't be the end of our work together, I'm sure of it." She nodded before turning back and entering the plane, empty except for herself and the pilot. Sitting down and sighing to herself, she closed her eyes as soon as they took off. She imagined the coming days spent alone with Annie in their cottage. No need to worry about clients, money, or government agents there. One day, it might be her life, rather than a vacation from it. Everything just needed to go to plan first.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: harry_potter Chapter 1 Disclaimer: Not mine. No fame, no money. This fic is part of the Roughside HP Slavefic Fuh-Q-Fest and responds to challenge No. 69. The Death Eater initiation was never gone into in detail. Let's just say the Dark Lord has a personal hand in things. (Selene la Luna) Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Peter Pettigrew (and a little bit Voldemort) Warning: rape, m/m sex (not too graphic), violence ~24 hours~ The chilling cold of the morning made Draco shiver as he followed his father through a forest he had never seen before. "Where are we?" he asked quietly, but his father ignored him. They reached a small wooden shack, and Lucius tapped his snake-headed cane against the door and waited. After several minutes of waiting, the door of the shack opened, and Pettigrew, with a false smile plastered over his face, revealed himself. "Come in, come in!" He stepped aside and let the two men enter. The door closed behind them with a soft clicking sound, and Pettigrew hustled over the floor, gesturing for them to follow. Draco shivered involuntarily. He hated Pettigrew and felt disgusted by this prideless man who had lived for so long as a rat because he was too frightened to fight for himself. Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to be anywhere near this despicable creature. Lucius grabbed Draco's sleeve and pulled him along. "Don't disappoint me, Draco!" The blonde hissed between gritted teeth, and his son quickened his pace to stay at his side. "Lucius Malfoy, my Lord! And his son..." Pettigrew shot a deceitful smile at the stunned boy before retreating to the back of the room, behind the big leather chair of his master. Voldemort watched his guests silently. Lucius stared into nothing; he was used to his master's attitude of sizing him up. At his side, Draco shifted uneasily from one leg to the other. He had never seen the Dark Lord face-to-face, and now he wasn't so sure he could please this man in every demanded aspect. The Dark Lord's face was hidden in the shadows, but Draco could see his hands. They were covered with patches of snake-like skin, and the mere thought of being touched by these hands nearly made the boy throw up. "Come here, boy..." When Draco didn't react immediately, his father pushed him down to kneel in front of his new master. Draco refused to look up until he felt a hand under his chin, lifting his head. He saw red-glowing eyes, and his heart seemed to miss a beat. "Welcome to your initiation, Draco..." Voldemort's face was no longer hidden by the shadows, and Draco nearly screamed in horror. All over the man's face, there was the same snake-patterned skin as he had spotted on the man's hands. Draco swallowed hard to prevent himself from vomiting. "I'll inform you tomorrow about the result..." Voldemort waited until the door closed behind Lucius Malfoy before he placed his hand on Draco's head, stroking lightly through his silver-blond strands. "Tell me, Draco... Do you know what you have to prove to me?" "Yes, my Lord... My father told me today that you will be testing my mind, my body, and my soul. I have to serve you for at least twenty-four hours before I receive the Dark Mark... When I fail you, you kill me... My body will be burned to ashes, while my soul will be damned forever..." Voldemort chuckled and patted Draco's head. "That's right... I will test your loyalty, your obedience, and your power... If you fail in only one of them, you'll die..." "I know..." The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair and watched him carefully. "Are you scared?" A cold shiver ran down Draco's spine, but nevertheless, he shook his head. "Good..." Voldemort gestured vaguely to the door. "Show Draco his room, Peter, and prepare him for his first test..." After leaving the bathroom, Draco towelled his hair and reached for the simple black robe laying over a chair in the corner of the room Voldemort had given to him. A small room without windows, and the only furniture were a bed and a chair. Pettigrew had insisted he should have a bath before he met Voldemort again, and Draco obeyed without complaining. He grabbed the robe and pulled it over his head. How long would he have to wait for his test? He hoped it wouldn't last long because he felt terribly nervous, although he never would admit his feelings. The sound of running feet on the floor caught his attention. Before he had a chance to react, the door of his room exploded in thousands of splinters, and Draco turned around to prevent his face from being hurt. As he watched again, there were three Aurors entering the room and grabbing him by his arms. He never got the chance to take his wand and defend himself. Too shocked to move, he found himself caught within seconds. "No!" Desperately, he struggled for freedom, but it was futile. They were stronger than he had thought, and soon his hands were tied behind his back, while one of them placed a string around his neck, fastening it to the rope that chained his wrists. Draco panicked as he realized he couldn't move his hands without strangling himself, but he forced himself to stand as still as possible while the Aurors pushed him to his knees and backed away. The Auror who had bound him circled him in slow motions and finally placed a hand on his shoulder. "Isn't it a pity, boy? Your master left you all alone, and there's no one to rescue you..." Draco's head was spinning. What happened? Why were these Aurors in a shack the Dark Lord used as a hideaway? Had someone betrayed Voldemort? And what would happen to him? "Where is he?" The silver-haired boy blinked in confusion. "Who are you talking about?" "Your Lord, the man who calls himself Voldemort! Tell me, boy, where has he gone?" The Auror, who seemed to be their leader, took out his wand and tipped it against Draco's chest. "I don't know!" "Really?" The Auror moved his wand, and suddenly Draco felt the string around his neck tighten, cutting off his air supply. Coughing, he gasped for air until he felt a hand under his chin, and the pressure of the rope vanished. "Answer my question, and I'll let you go, boy... He's not worth you dying for him..." Draco whispered harshly and received a hard punch in his stomach. He fell sideways. A vicious kick nearly broke his ribs, and Draco gritted his teeth to prevent himself from screaming. Another kick, and tears were forming in his eyes, and the boy suddenly knew what was about to happen. They would continue beating him until he told them what they wanted to hear... or he died. "I tell you the truth! I don't know!" "Is this so?" Pain radiated through his entire body as one of his captors buried his hand in his hair and jerked his head back. "Maybe it's the truth, maybe not... But you can save your pitiful life when you join us... Become a spy for the light and report his plans to us... Take this offer... There won't be another chance..." All he wanted to do was take this offer and survive. He opened his mouth to accept, and in this instant, his mind began to work again. Something seemed wrong. This was his initiation. Why should Lord Voldemort invite him and sacrifice him to his enemies? Draco tried to think logically. Where did those Aurors come from? Shouldn't there be Death Eaters to protect their Lord? Why did he seem to be alone? His attention snapped back to the Auror in front of him as the man took out his wand again. "It seems we have to convince you..." Draco closed his eyes as the burning pain of the Crucio-curse washed over him. Slowly, his body was set on fire, each nerve seemed to burn to ashes, and he found himself screaming and writhing in agony. Finally, it was over, but before he could say something to his captors, the curse hit him again. And again. Draco couldn't move anymore. Too weak to even open his eyes, he felt a cold hand stroking his cheek, and a seductive voice whispered in his ear. "Are you ready to betray the Dark Lord?" The moment of truth... This morning, he thought it would be his initiation, but now it seemed a test had become reality. At last, he could prove he was worth being a Malfoy. Images of his father flashed through his mind, and his mouth answered the question before his mind caught up. "Never... I rather die..." Draco waited for the final blow, but it never came. Instead, he felt the ropes around his wrists and neck loosen, and heard someone cast a healing spell before he was placed on his bed. "You have done well... Now sleep... We'll talk later..." Draco woke with a terrified scream and tried to leap out of bed, but found himself pushed back into the cushions. Voldemort looked at him with calculating eyes, and Draco felt more confused than ever. "You?! But I thought... I thought..." Voldemort's face remained expressionless as he watched the boy before him. At last, Draco mustered enough strength to continue. "I didn't understand... What happened to me? The Aurors..." The Dark Lord smiled and placed one finger on Draco's lips to silence him. "It was your first test... The test of your mind... I proved your loyalty, and you succeeded... Very well done..." "So it wasn't real?" "Of course, it was real... If you had chosen to betray me and save your life, you would be dead by now..." A cold shiver ran down Draco's spine, and the Dark Lord watched him carefully. "Are you scared?" Draco shook his head, and with a cold smile, Voldemort snapped his fingers at Pettigrew. "Time for your second test... Tell me, boy, are you obedient?" "Yes, my Lord..." "We'll see..." Voldemort took Pettigrew's hand and looked him in the eyes. "Look at Draco, Peter... Tell me, do you like him? Isn't he pretty? His skin feels like velvet, and his hair is like silk... Answer me honestly... Don't you want him?!" "Of... of course, my Lord!" Pettigrew swallowed hard, and Draco saw desire and need in his eyes. Voldemort had seen it as well, and with a cruel smile, he said: "Take him for me!" Silence fell over the room while Draco froze in shock, and Pettigrew blinked in surprise. Voldemort frowned impatiently at his servant. "Do you need a written invitation?" "No..." A hungry smile spread across Pettigrew's face, and he licked his lips in anticipation. Too stunned to move, it took Draco several seconds to realize what the Dark Lord had said. Surely, he had mistaken him... He noticed too late the man reaching him from behind, and when he felt cold hands unbuttoning his shirt from behind, he nearly screamed in horror. "Tell me, Draco... Are you still a virgin?" The question took him by surprise, and Draco lost control. "WHAT?! That's none of....!" he snapped at the man. Then his words sank in, and he realized to whom he was talking, and his eyes widened in shock. But Voldemort didn't seem to mind. He only waited expectantly until the boy answered him properly. "Yes, my Lord... My father told me to save myself for my initiation..." "Your father was right... I'm your master, and it's my right to take your virginity, and I want to give it to one of my loyal servants..." Draco looked at him with a horrified look in his eyes, and the Dark Lord felt his heart beating faster. "Now it's time to test your obedience... You will do what I say..." The boy's eyes flickered over Voldemort's misshapen skin, and involuntarily, he asked himself what he would look like down 'there'. Maybe he should call himself lucky he hadn't to endure this sight. In this instant, Pettigrew moved his hands again and caressed Draco's bare chest with slow movements, reaching his pants and opening them quickly before pulling them down to his knees. Draco shuddered, but again, he remembered his father's wishes and hopes. Could he disappoint him only because he wasn't strong enough to sleep with someone he disliked? Slowly, he forced himself to surrender into Pettigrew's touches, and in his mind, there was only one thought... Hate... He hated this man... He hated him more than anyone else he actually could think of, except for Harry Potter, maybe, or the Dark Lord himself. "Look at me, Draco... I want to see your eyes!" It seemed Voldemort had read his thoughts, and the boy followed his order reluctantly. The eyes of the Dark Lord glowed in a furious red light, sending shivers of fear through Draco's body. "That's right, Draco... Look at me, boy... Show me your obedience in giving your body to my servant..." "'I will not cry... I will 'not' cry...' It was like a mantra Draco prayed silently while he felt foreign hands exploring his skin, pinching his nipples, roaming over his chest, his hips, his thighs, and finally pushing his legs apart. One of these hands pressed hard between Draco's shoulder blades, bringing him down on all fours. Pettigrew muttered a lubrication charm and pushed two of his fingers inside Draco's reluctant body, working his fingers in and out of his small opening, and it was this moment Draco realized completely what the man was about to do to him. Holding his breath, he only felt pain when Pettigrew replaced his fingers with his cock. Strong hands grabbed his hips and held them in place, and with a harsh and violent thrust, Pettigrew forced his way into Draco's body until he was buried to the hilt inside the boy's tight heat. Suddenly, a hand grabbed Draco's hair, and a hard mouth pressed against his, forcing his lips open to a wet tongue, drinking his screams, sucking his whimpers right from his throat, and swallowing them eagerly. Voldemort backed away, a lecherous smile on his face. Fear and hate were the only aphrodisiac he needed, and the only one that worked for him. "Move..." The harsh command was meant for Pettigrew, who obeyed quickly by drawing back and thrusting back in. Voldemort stroked back the boy's hair and watched the signs of pain and humiliation flickering over the pale face. As the next scream raised in the boy's throat, Voldemort plunged forward and kissed him roughly. Feeling the boy's trembling lips made him only want to take it all, to absorb his innocence, to possess him completely. He pushed his tongue between Draco's lips and explored the wet heat with great relish while Pettigrew thrust deeper and deeper into Draco's aching body. The force of his thrusts pushed Draco against Voldemort, and the Dark Lord met his movements, copying Pettigrew's rhythm, worming his tongue deep inside Draco's mouth, stealing his screams right from his throat, and using them to feed this unholy hunger lurking in his soul. Draco struggled in vain against the hand around his neck, forcing him to cling to a man who got off on his pain, but feeling the power of the man, he finally gave in. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the feeling of Pettigrew's member gliding in and out of his ass, and with every thrust, he felt a part of himself dying. He was revolted by himself. His father told him what could happen on his initiation, and all he ever wanted was to become a Death Eater himself, but now Draco wasn't so sure he would live through this disgusting experience. Thrusting harder and harder, Pettigrew finally came with a moan of deep-felt pleasure, and in the instant his seed coated the inside of Draco's body, Voldemort released the boy's mouth and sat back, satisfied. Pettigrew removed himself reluctantly from Draco and caught the collapsing boy in his arms. "Put him on the bed and leave us alone," Voldemort said. He waited in silence until the door closed behind his servant before focusing his attention on the boy. "Clean yourself. You did well in your second test, but there is still one test left." Voldemort patted Draco's head lightly. "I need to know if you're strong enough to fight for our cause." The Dark Lord walked to the door. On the threshold, he turned around once more and added, "Meet me in the study. We'll go hunting, Muggle hunting. You have to present me some trophies." The Dark Lord left without a further word. Draco waited several moments, not sure if he was able to move, but finally, he sat up. Wincing in pain as he left the bed, Draco stumbled into the bathroom and avoided his eyes in the mirror. His whole body was aching and sore, and he wasn't surprised to find a small trail of blood mixed with Pettigrew's semen trickling down his thighs. What had he done? Disgusted by himself, Draco felt bitter tears burning in his eyes, and suddenly, he couldn't stand it any longer. While he threw up again and again, his thoughts revolved around what had just happened. Was it worth it? Was it really worth it? The boy looked into the mirror, and all he saw was a reflection of his father. He looked like Lucius, behaved like Lucius, and suddenly, he realized the truth: he would never be anything else but a copy of his father. Used by the man who gave him life and used by the man he now had to call master. Was there a chance for him to decide what he wanted to do? And what would be his choice? Death? No. His life wasn't in his hands, and there was nothing he could do about it. Sighing, Draco bathed his face in cold water and made his way to Voldemort's study.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: movies 28-Weeks-Later Forever In Our Hearts and Minds Chapter 1: Forever In Our Hearts and Minds Note: This is a sequel to my first 28 Weeks Later FanFic called "Where Was I During The Rage Epidemic of 2002?" July 1, 2017 The Sentral Bar and Lounge Mandaue City, Cebu, Philippines My friends and I were at this club, enjoying life. We, the millennials in this nightclub, were already in our twenties. It felt like just yesterday that we were children, and now we were here, adulting. I was there for the sole reason that I was starting medical school on August 7, 2017. It was 9 pm, and the club wasn't full yet. I entered the door, and the bouncer asked for an ID with a date of birth (I look young for a 20-year-old). To the right, I saw my friend Francis, who signaled me to come over. He told me that the others had not arrived yet. We went outside to wait for our friends. By 10 pm, our other friend Gian arrived. He mentioned that the others were on their way. We then took the last table available. A group of girls, one of whom Gian knew, asked if they could sit with us. One of them, a young brunette clad in a black bustier that exposed a bit of her midriff and a pair of skinny blue jeans, was the one who kindly asked us. She was accompanied by her friends: one was wearing a black gown, another had a green off-shoulder top paired with a long skirt and heels, and the last one had a black-and-white striped shirt paired with a long skirt. It was obvious that these girls were looking for some fun. We thought that if we let the girls sit with us, the cost of the table and drinks would be much cheaper. Furthermore, we saw it as an act of goodwill. Once we were settled in, we introduced ourselves to the girls. They, in turn, introduced themselves to us. Their names were Anna, Danica, Kimberly, and Jade. From our conversation, Francis and I learned that they were B.S. Psychology students from the University of San Carlos (the same university I graduated from with a B.S. Biology degree). Apparently, we had graduated together on April 10, 2017. One of them asked what our plan was after graduating with a B.S. Biology degree. "Oh, I'm going to med school," I said. "Where?" Danica, the brunette who had requested to sit with us, asked. "Cebu Doctor's University," I replied. "How about you, Gian?" she asked. "University of Visayas," he replied. Kimberly then asked Francis what he was taking. Francis replied that he would graduate in October and that his course was B.S. Environmental Science. When we asked them what their plan was, if they were going to law school or become guidance counselors, most of them did not know what to do. "I'm scared of the Rage Virus or something similar," one of them said. "I know a vaccine has been created, and the last samples of the virus have been hidden away, but if it happens again, then for sure those in the hospital would be the first victims." This silenced the table. It had been 15 years since the Rage Epidemic struck the United Kingdom and devastated much of continental Europe before stopping at Russia's western borders. 15 years later, much of Europe was a wasteland, with some countries only recently re-establishing their governments. France and Germany were such examples. "We were still kids when it happened," I said, remembering the day the first reports of a violent disease emerged in Cambridge on May 4, 2002. I recalled following the news: the fall of London, the British government's retreat to Northern Ireland, the repopulation, and the second outbreak, the Fall of Europe, and the measures taken by the Philippine government to prevent the rage from entering the country. "When the outbreak hit mainland Europe, my family and I stayed in the Camotes Islands until it was clear that the Russians had contained it on their border towns," I continued. "My father bought a gun; it's still with our family right now." "Interesting," Kimberly, the girl in the black gown, said. "I'm from Camotes too." "Oh, really?" I asked. "Yes," she replied. "If an outbreak occurs, I'd be safe there. The infected can't swim, right?" "Nope," I said. "In their state of rage, they forget how to swim." I remembered my time in kindergarten, when my family was supposed to go to Boracay but my father decided that Camotes would be safer because Boracay was popular among foreign tourists. "Camotes is indeed beautiful," I said. "I wish I could return there one day, except without guns and survival gear this time." "But what happens when the rage occurs, and you're in the hospital?" Danica asked. "I once told myself I'd smuggle a gun with me," I said firmly. "So, if that's not allowed, then I'd hope I'm in an area far from the infected, and I hope that area would be where I can escape to my car." "And if it's not there?" she asked again. "Well, then it sucks to be me," I replied, watching the crowd party the night away and wondering what would happen if a Rage outbreak were to occur in this place. I then took the bottle of Bacardi, poured a shot into my glass, and gulped the alcoholic drink down quickly, merely thinking about the possibility of it happening again.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: originals Chapter 1 "Don't be nervous," Nick said as he tucked Gail's small hand into his arm. "Yeah, right," she thought to herself. "Tell me something about yourself," the dark-haired young man said while leading her down a hallway. "Like what?" her soft voice asked. Nick smiled and covered her hand with his, squeezing it gently. "What do you do for a living?" he asked. His dark blue eyes swept down her little body, liking what he was seeing. Some of the women he had to pleasure were not as pretty as she was, so he found himself getting excited to see her naked. Her name was Gail, and she had never had an orgasm with a man. Her friends had told him that much when they hired him for her. She was shy and quiet, tiny, standing about five foot one if he had to guess. "I'm a bartender," she said. "What bar do you work for?" Nick asked. Most of the women he brought to his room weren't this nervous. They were usually giggling and excited. He found her blushing cheeks and the nervous darting of her eyes a turn-on. That surprised him. He hadn't actually been turned on like that in a while. "Sam's," she said. "Oh yeah, I know that place," Nick said with a grin as he reached his room. He opened the door and pulled away from her to let his hand come to rest against her lower back. "Come on," he urged. Gail hadn't known what to expect, but what she saw wasn't it. His room was big and welcoming, putting her at ease right away, that is, until she looked at his king-size bed. It was covered in pillows and a black satin comforter. His room was dimly lit and cast a very soft, inviting look to everything she saw. Her friends had pushed her into this, and now a part of her wanted to run. She was embarrassed and shouldn't be there, but her body wanted what was promised to her. Vaguely, she became aware of him shutting the door when she walked in. "Do you have a boyfriend?" Nick asked as he gently guided her towards his bed. "No," she almost whispered, refusing to meet his eyes. He was stunning. His goatee and hair at the sides of his face were a little unruly, but she liked that. His hair was longish, with the back reaching his collar and the sides coming over his ears. His face was unbelievably handsome. Nick took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. When she still couldn't meet his eyes, Nick tilted her head up with his knuckles. "This is going to be real easy, okay?" His smile was warm, and his voice was low. It flowed over her and warmed her straight to her core. "Nothing that is going to happen here is meant to hurt you or embarrass you. I only want to do what makes you feel good, so can you trust me?" She found herself holding her breath and nodding. "Good," Nick said. "I'm going to blindfold you, okay?" "Why?" she whispered as her mouth suddenly went dry. "Because I think you will be more comfortable, and it heightens your other senses. It will make everything I do to you feel better. If at any time you want me to stop, just tell me to stop." "Okay," Gail said. Nick smiled, and her heart rate soared. He brought his left hand to her cheek and stroked it. "You're really pretty, you know that?" he asked. He reached behind him and pulled a black blindfold out of his back pocket. "You ready, baby?" "Okay," she said. Why was that the only word she could say? He chuckled and slipped the blindfold over her eyes. Gail held her breath again and closed her eyes as her sight left her. A second later, she felt his lips brush against her cheek as his hands came to her arms. He squeezed her before his touch left her. The next second, he was lifting her shirt up and off her. Nick grinned as her body came into view. Her stomach was tight and toned. He silently thanked God that she was hot. It was going to make what he had planned so much more pleasurable for him. She was going to enjoy his plans, no doubt about that, but he wanted to enjoy himself too. Painfully slow, Nick undressed Gail until she knew she was standing naked before him. Her entire body blushed, and she started to tremble. She had been with guys before, had sex before, but had never really been completely naked in front of a man. She swallowed hard as he touched her arms again. "Your body is beautiful," he whispered against her left ear. "I'm going to settle you into my bed, okay?" He swept her up into his strong arms as if she didn't weigh anything. To her surprise, his chest was bare. He climbed onto his bed and carefully laid her down, right in the middle. He took hold of her left arm and started to bring it over her head. He took her right arm and did the same as he leaned down. "I'm going to tie your wrists up. Again, it will heighten what you feel. You good with that?" Nick's voice was hot against the skin of her ear. She bit down onto her bottom lip and nodded. Nick chuckled again. She felt him slip something silky around her left wrist, then her right one. "There, I think we are ready now," he whispered. She felt him move away from her and wondered what he was doing. A warm, soft sheet was placed over her as he laid back down on top of her. His lips brushed her right cheek, then her left one. She felt and heard him move down her body, and her thoughts started to fly. "Where is he going to touch me?" she wondered. He answered her unasked question when the tip of his tongue came to her right nipple. She gasped and jumped at the touch. Nick took hold of her hips while he began to circle that nipple with his tongue. Gail moaned at the sensation. Her bare legs came to his. He enclosed her nipple into his warm mouth, making her mouth fall open. A shock shot straight down through her small body. He suckled against her while his hands kneaded into her skin. Nick realized her nipple and left a trail of hot, sucking kisses against her skin to her left nipple, then started the pleasure there. His tongue formed an O as he scooped the nipple up. He rubbed against it and around her, and before Gail knew it, she was slowly thrusting her hips against him. "I need you to tell me something," Nick whispered into her left ear. She shuddered and whimpered. "I want you to enjoy this, so I want you to tell me where you like it most when I touch you. Do you like it here?" he asked as he brought his right hand to her clit and started to slowly circle it. "Or here?" he asked a second later when he left her clit to slip that finger inside her. He found a trembling spot deep inside her and started to rub it. "Or do you like both places?" He brought the palm of his hand to her clit and started to rub slow circles against it. Gail's head went back as she cried out at the pleasure. "I take it that you like both places," he whispered. His mouth disappeared from her ear and returned to her right nipple. He crooked his finger and started making a come-here motion inside her. Gail's body shook while her heart started beating hard. He moved his palm in a counter-clockwise motion against her clit. Gail's legs spread open as her hips thrust up, pushing herself into his hand more. "Baby, pay attention to my voice," Nick whispered into her right ear. "You are going to have an orgasm, and that's okay. It's what we want. Don't hold back. I want to hear it. It's how I know you are enjoying what I'm doing. If you don't have one, then I know I need to switch up what I'm doing. Don't be embarrassed by liking what's happening. I want your moans, your whimpers, your cries." Again, his hot breath disappeared from her head. His mouth returned to her nipple. He alternated from sucking and licking against her right one to her left one. She felt her chest heaving with her breaths as she panted through the pleasure. He circled her clit as he circled her nipples. He rubbed inside her, and to her utter shock, an orgasm did start to uncoil itself. Then, like a wild fire, it burst through her body, making her muscles tense up. She whimpered, riding out her first man-given orgasm. Sure, she had had them before. She had pleasured herself using only her fingers, but those orgasms were nothing like what was coursing through her at that time. Her body was flooded with heat and trembled hard. "Oh, baby, your orgasm was amazing," Nick whispered when he knew she started to come down. "And just the first of many to hit your sweet body during our time together." Carefully, he pulled out of her body and kissed against her forehead. "We are going to go into the bathroom in a bit. I want to show you how the shower can get you off, but first, I want to play with your nipples. You need some time to recover, so I'm going to show you how different temperatures of things can make you feel good." Chapter 2 For a while, Nick showed Gail the joys and pleasures that different temperatures against her nipples could bring her. He sucked on ice cubes, then sucked on her nipples, swirling his tongue in such a slow motion that Gail cried out and arched her back. He drank something hot and sucked against the same nipple. He moved to the side and did it again, over and over again, until Gail was panting and her heart was slamming in her chest. She was wet and wanting him again. With a soft chuckle, Nick helped her from the bed. Gail was aware he was making her walk completely naked and wanted to be embarrassed by it, but couldn't. All she could really think about was his hand and fingers and how amazing they had made her feel. She wanted more of that, more orgasm, but didn't ask. Nick was all smiles as he led her to the bathroom. For once, he didn't mind looking at his charge's body. She was tiny and tight, her stomach flat, and her sex beautiful. It almost begged for his mouth. He was surprised because he never wanted to go down on his charges. He never ate out his charges. He'd use toys, his hands, fingers, and he'd have sex, but he never ate them out. That was personal, but he wanted between her legs. "Stay right here, okay?" he asked softly. He let go of her, and Gail stood completely still. A second later, she heard his shower kick on. Was he going to wash her? Gail found herself frowning. Nick laughed as he took hold of her arms. "Why are you frowning, baby?" "What are you doing?" she asked. He tugged on her, and she was forced to let him lead her again. "I'm going to show you how good the shower can make you feel," he said before his lips brushed her cheek. "Give me your hand." His warm fingers enclosed her right hand. He guided it forward and under his shower nozzle. "Is that a good temperature for you?" "Yeah," she said, still confused. "Good, now relax, you're all tense again," Nick whispered. His arms circled her and lifted her up. Nick gently placed her in his tub, asking her to lay back. Warm water flowed over her back and hair, but not on her body, so she wondered where the water was coming from. Nick guided her legs to part, and a second later, the stream touched her inner right thigh, making her jump. "Hey," Nick said. "You trust me, right? You have liked everything I have done to you so far, right? Know that I only want you to have another, different orgasm." She blushed at his words but couldn't deny his words. She wanted that orgasm. The water flowed down her inner until it hit her pussy. Gail jumped again, the pleasure shocking her right away. In a clockwise motion, he started slowly moving the steam around her, only hitting her clit a few times. She grabbed at his wrist as she bit down into her bottom lip. The pleasure was amazing, so much better than his hand and fingers had been. He moved the water in the circles as slowly as he could, smiling when she started to thrust her hips and moan. She wanted it on her clit, and he knew it, but he wanted to prolong the orgasm for her. To give her a reward, he allowed the stream to hit her hot spot. She cried out and threw her head back. Nick grinned and moved it away to the left side of her pussy. "Please!" she begged out. "Please what, baby?" he whispered, loving how her back arched and how hard her nipples were. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. "Put it back," she whined, making him laugh. "If I hit that little, sweet clit of yours, you're coming to cum in seconds. I want this to last, I want this orgasm to be big. Enjoy the pleasure, baby, I'll get you there," he said. She almost growled at his words. She didn't want to wait; she wanted the orgasm now. But he wasn't going to comply, not even when she started to beg for it. The water continued to circle her, hitting the right pussy lip, the clit, the left side, the opening. Then he changed directions and went in a counter-clockwise motion. Gail tensed up, her stomach contracted, she panted. "Please! Now!" she cried out. And she was rewarded. He hit her clit with the water, and her whole body reacted. She jerked, she squeezed his arm, digging her nails in, her mouth fell open. Her chest heaved, and fire burst through her again. The orgasm broke her apart, shattered her into a million pieces, and made her shiver. She squeezed her eyes shut while still wearing the blindfold. She cried out, she moaned, she whimpered. How the hell had she never tried this on her own? "Holy shit, I can't wait to taste you," Nick breathed out when he was sure she was coming down. Taste her? He wasn't seriously planning on going down on her? She had heard her friends talking about it, talking about how great it felt, but she had never had it done to her. She had been too embarrassed to ask her boyfriends for it. "Let me get a towel," Nick said, turning the water off. "I have to say, baby, I am really turned on right now. It takes a lot to turn me on, but between your sexy little body and your orgasms, I'm about to bust." He took hold of her arms and pulled her up so she was sitting up. He wrapped the towel around her and let her stand up. "I don't think I can walk," she admitted. Her legs were still shaking. "Oh good," Nick said. "That means that was a good one." He said. Again, Nick picked her up and carried her to his bedroom. She wanted to protest about laying in his bed when her body was wet, but he didn't seem to mind as he laid her back down in the center of the bed. And just like before, he slipped the straps over her wrists and ankles. She was trembling and couldn't seem to stop it. "Okay, we are going to do a little more nipple play so your body can relax again. When I eat you out, I want you to enjoy it and not be overwhelmed by the other orgasms," he whispered. And the sweet torture began again. He sucked, he licked, he circled her nipples. He placed something against them both that vibrated, and to Gail's surprise, she started to cum again, without him touching her pussy. Nick growled and fused his mouth to hers, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth without thinking. "That was great," he panted a second later. "I did not expect that. Wow." He kissed her gently, then pulled away. He was tight, hard, painfully so. "I need a second," he said, as he started to get off the bed. Gail's head came up as she pulled on the straps. "Where are you going?" she asked, panic setting in, thinking she was going to be alone, completely naked and tied down. "Honestly, I'm going to the bathroom," he replied. "I need to jerk off. You have me so amped up, I'm having a hard time thinking. I can't pleasure you like I want to when I'm like this. And if I don't jerk off, when we have sex, I'm going to cum the second I enter you," he admitted, his eyes drinking in her sweetness. "Don't go," she whispered, making him smile. "Do it here, please," she added. "You sure, baby?" he asked. Gail bit into her bottom lip and nodded. A second later, she felt him move so he was between her legs. She listened hard, wanting to know what he was doing, but unable to see. Then he groaned, and she knew. His breath became harsh and fast. A warm flush went over her, knowing he was jerking off while looking at her. It made her feel sexy, beautiful. And when he moaned out her name, Gail was trembling with need again.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: inuyasha Chapter 1 Oh yeah, Naraku and Sesshomaru are human, and Kikyou is very much alive. Ages: Naraku – 25, Kikyou – 22, Sesshomaru – 23 3 the Hard Way Sesshomaru stood above Kikyou, looking down at her while she stared at him. Lady Kikyou lay on her Lord's bed in the royal Palace they shared. Her husband was nowhere to be found, so she decided to "entertain" herself with her Royal Adviser, Sesshomaru. "Come here," she whispered. Sesshomaru obliged and climbed on top of Kikyou. He captured her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Kikyou wrapped her arms around him and opened her mouth to allow Sesshomaru's tongue entry. Together their mouths made love, while their hands fondled forbidden places on their bodies. Kikyou released her lips from him and began untying his robe. Sesshomaru ripped open her kimono, revealing her nude body. He lowered his head to her chest and suckled one of her peach-colored nipples. He drew her perky breast into his mouth in long, slow, smooth strokes. Kikyou's legs spread open beneath him, and she released several moans. She quickly removed the rest of his clothing, until he was nude as well. Sesshomaru lifted his head from her saliva-covered mound to give her neglected breast the same attention. He lowered his hand to her moist womanhood and inserted a finger inside of her. He felt Kikyou's hips rise against his hand from his touch. He continued to nurse from her breast and finger her, until she released a soft cry and came on his hand. Sesshomaru chuckled at Kikyou's flushed expression. "So, I gather that you enjoyed it?" he asked. Kikyou didn't reply, she simply nodded. "Then I'm sure you'll really enjoy this," he smirked as he lowered his head in between her thighs. Using his thumb and forefinger, he separated her nether lips apart and flicked his tongue against her flesh. Kikyou's hips bucked into his face as she cried in sheer pleasure. Her hands fisted her silk sheets, while Sesshomaru ate her out. Sesshomaru's tongue continued to suckle from her sensitive bud. He felt himself growing erect, and reached in between his legs to stroke his length. His oral assault continued until Kikyou cried his name and came again, on his lips. Sesshomaru devoured every drop of her bittersweet nectar. He released his grip on his shaft and positioned himself above Kikyou. Without any words, he slowly entered her tight, warm body. Sesshomaru felt Kikyou clutch his back, while her legs wrapped around his waist. Sesshomaru grunted as he worked himself inside of Lord Naraku's wife. He placed one of her legs over his hip, and rotated his pelvis into hers. Kikyou met each of his thrusts with some of her own. Not caring if anyone heard them, Kikyou and Sesshomaru made love until— "What in the hell is going on?" Naraku yelled from his doorway. "Naraku—" Kikyou said. "My Lord—" Sesshomaru said in unison. "Get out," Naraku told Sesshomaru in a deadly, calm voice. Sesshomaru quickly gathered his clothing and exited Naraku's bedroom. Turning to face his wife, Naraku said, "Answer the question, bitch." Kikyou sat up, covered her body with the bed sheets, and stuttered. "I—I can—explain—" "Don't," Naraku tore the sheets from her body. "You're going to finish what you started, right now." "What—" Before Kikyou could begin her sentence, Naraku removed the clothing from his body, grabbed the back of Kikyou's head, and thrust his erect penis inside of Kikyou's mouth. Kikyou moved her head backwards a few inches to keep from gagging. After she regained her composure, she slowly sucked him, feeling the tip of his penis touch the back of his throat. Kikyou grabbed the rest of his length, and jerked it to heighten the pleasure. Naraku closed his eyes and grunted. He fisted a handful of Kikyou's hair, and pushed himself deeper into her mouth. He felt his penis throb with the beginnings of his orgasm. Pushing his member deep inside of her, Naraku exploded inside of her throat. Kikyou swallowed what she could of his salty flavored semen. Some of his seed dripped from her chin, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. She looked into Naraku's eyes and said, "My Lord, please forgive me for my unfaithfulness." Naraku grabbed Kikyou's chin and said, "You're forgiven." He pushed her backwards on their bed and climbed on top of her. Spreading her legs apart, Naraku slowly entered her dripping womanhood. Kikyou shuddered with delight, as she felt her husband fill her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her hips rose to meet each of his thrusts. Naraku grunted from pleasure, loving the feeling of Kikyou's tight, wet warmth surrounding him. He increased his pace, rotating his hips into hers. "Oh, my Lord," Kikyou moaned. "Yes, Kami—yes!" She smiled, closed her eyes, and sighed. Their bed vibrated as Naraku lowered his head to Kikyou's ear, and groaned, "You like it, baby, you like how this dick feels inside of you?" "Mmm—hmm—" Kikyou moaned. Naraku lifted Kikyou's legs over his shoulder and increased his pace some more. He violently stabbed her, feeling her inner walls constrict around him. Kikyou's eyes began to water, just as her body shivered with her oncoming orgasm. She locked her legs tightly around him and released a scream. Naraku's body shook as he grunted in her ear. He felt his member pulsate as he spilled his seed inside of her. Kikyou clung to him while she came as well. He collapsed to her side, and she panted heavily, trying to catch her breath. "Naraku—" "Kikyou—" he sighed. She looked at him; her chocolate eyes becoming even darker. "Again, fuck me again, my Lord." Naraku gave a wicked smirk, and lowered his head to the apex of her thighs. Licking his lips, he spread her flesh apart, chuckled deeply, and suckled her honey. Kikyou's soft moans and pants indicated she enjoyed his oral loving. Naraku continued to please her, until she came into his mouth. He rose and hovered above her entrance. Without another word, he entered her, again. Nesha: *sighs* You know, I really need to stop writing lemons. Oh, how I wish I was Kikyou in this fic. She had a chance to sleep with Sesshomaru (although it didn't last) and Naraku. And I don't care what y'all say, Naraku is so sexy. I love him and Kikyou as an item. Actually, I like Kikyou paired with Inuyasha, Sesshomaru, and Naraku. But mostly Kikyou and Naraku.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: movies Chapter 1: 3 weeks Author's note: Mark Hamill was so cute back in the 80's! Disclaimer: If I owned Star Wars, I wouldn't still live with my parents. Point is, I don't. "Good night, guys," Leia said as she exited Han's room with the droids. "Night, Leia," Han said from where he stood a few feet away from Luke, who was at the door. They had docked on some planet to do maintenance on the Falcon (big surprise there), and Luke was staying in a hotel room with Han. Leia was staying by herself, if you didn't count C-3PO and R2-D2. Luke closed the door and locked it. No sooner had he turned from it than Han wrapped his arms around his hips and kissed him. "Mmm!" Luke reacted quickly, moving his hands up around Han's shoulders. "Ah!" Luke gasped, pulling away for a second to inhale more air. Han moved his hands up Luke's back and pulled him back into the kiss. He then slid them back down and pulled Luke's legs up and around his waist. "Whoa!" Luke broke the kiss and gripped Han's shirt. "What's the rush? We have all night." "Three weeks," Han said. "You really think the repairs will last that long?" Luke asked. "No, it's been three weeks," Han said, in between kissing Luke. "Since... we've... fucked." "You've counted the days?" Luke asked, wincing slightly when Han bumped him into the wall. Luke leaned against it and giggled when Han moved his hands over his chest. "Less talking," Han said, pulling Luke's shirt open. "Han, wait." "No waiting," Han said, licking his neck. Luke giggled again. "But wouldn't getting my clothes off be easier on the bed?" Luke said, gesturing toward it with his head. Han looked back at it. "Fine," Han said. He put Luke down on his own two feet and pulled his vest off. Luke walked around him, slipping out of his shirt as he walked to the bed. He jumped when Han came up behind him and encircled him in his arms. He kissed Luke's neck, biting down at the nape and sucking harder to give Luke a hickey. "Ahh...," Luke moaned, his legs turning to rubber when Han teased that spot of his neck. Han moved him up on the bed so they could kneel on it. Han reached down and rubbed the inside of Luke's thigh, dangerously close to his erection. "Oh...," Luke arched his back, sending Han's arousal into the crack of his ass. "You're just as hard up as me," Han breathed in Luke's ear. "Never said I wasn't," Luke said, looking over his shoulder at Han. He kissed Luke quickly and started to unbuckle his pants. As Han slid the zipper down, Luke pushed back again, the vibration against his erection making him arch up. Han was right; they had gone three weeks without even a kiss. It was maddening. Han suddenly pushed Luke onto his hands and knees. He pulled his black pants off all the way and tossed them over his shoulder. Han took a small tube of lube out of his pocket before doing the same to his own. He brought Luke's hips up and spread his cheeks. "Ah!" Luke yelped when the cold jelly touched his overly hot opening. "Relax," Han said, pushing his fingers in. "Un, yes," Luke put his head back and moaned when Han's thick fingers went deeper. It wasn't long before he was pushing back on them, trying to get them deeper. When he couldn't, he whined and pulled at the sheets. "Han, I cant stand it anymore. I need you now!" Han smirked when he spread a generous amount of the lube on his own throbbing erection. He put a hand on Luke's hip and used the other to guide himself in. "Then I'm all yours." With that said, he pushed in, slow but hard. "Oh god!" Luke moaned, pulling harder on the sheets. When Han pressed further inside his tight heat, his arms gave out, and he fell to his elbows. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Luke," Han gasped, trying to keep control of himself. He and Luke had been going at it for a couple of months now, and no matter how many times, no matter how hard or deep or fast Han thrust into him, Luke was always, always tight and hot. And thanks to the lube he picked up after their first time, Luke was slick. It was almost too much for Han to wait five seconds to let him adjust to his girth. And after just two, Luke was bucking back on him. "Stop teasing me," he whined. Han withdrew slowly and then thrust back in. He repeated the motion, going faster each turn until he got a steady rhythm. He leaned over Luke's back so he could see his face and steady himself on the mattress. To his dismay, he found Luke had his eyes shut tightly, and he was also pulling on the sheet with his teeth, trying not to scream. "Am I hurting you?" Han asked, worried. "No, it feels so good... oh Han... Han, it feels like I'm going to go insane if it gets any better," Luke gasped. Han suddenly stopped and pulled out of him completely. "Han, what the hell are you—?" Luke was cut off when Han flipped him onto his back and pulled his legs around his waist. He re-entered Luke with one hard thrust, striking his prostate head-on. "Ah!" Luke bit his lip to keep from screaming. "Stop doing that," Han said, leaning down to kiss him. Luke put his arms around his shoulders. "Let me know you like it. Scream as loud as you want. If you don't... un... I'll just go harder and harder until you can't help but cry out." "Is that a threat or a promise?" Luke asked. Han smirked and thrust into him hard. Han liked how it made Luke's pretty green/blue eyes go wide. He looked absolutely beautiful when he was in ecstasy. Those full pink lips opened slightly with his heavy breathing, and he moaned. Sweat covered his tanned body, making his hair stick to his face. At the moment, Han decided he wanted to hear more of his arousing moans. He leaned down and, starting with Luke's neck, grazed his teeth across that perfectly smooth skin. "Han...," Luke said, his hands coming up to comb through Han's hair, encouraging him to go further. While still thrusting into Luke, hard and fast, Han took one of his cute pink nipples into his mouth. He reached down with one hand and started pumping Luke's erection in his hand. "Han!" Luke moaned loudly, arching into all the sensations at once. "You feel so good... I cant take much more... are you close?" he asked. "Yeah," Han moaned, arching his back. He looked at Luke again, recognizing the look in his eyes. He leaned in and sucked that particularly sensitive part of Luke's neck. "Ahh! HAN!!" Luke screamed, arching up far off the bed. It had become too much for him, and he came hard all over his stomach and Han's hand. "Han!" Han thrust into Luke just as his orgasm made his muscles contract around him. As he withdrew, his orgasm was squeezed out of him. "Yes!" He moaned, emptying himself inside Luke's tight heat. It was Luke's turn to smile as Han squeezed his eyes shut and collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms and legs around Han and hugged him tightly, shuddering when Han's softened penis slipped from inside him. Han lifted his head and kissed Luke lovingly before rolling onto his side. Han was just beginning to doze off when he felt a weight on his hips. He looked up to find Luke straddling him, his cute blond hair messed up and clinging to his face from the sweat. Luke was a thing of beauty after sex. He glowed. "What are you doing?" Han asked, seeing the mischievous smile on Luke's face. "We have to make up for lost time," Luke said before trailing kisses down Han's torso. Han smirked and laid back. Leia was staying by herself, if you didn't count C-3PO and R2-D2. Luke closed the door and locked it. No sooner had he turned from it than Han wrapped his arms around his hips and kissed him. "Mmm!" he reacted quickly and moved his hands up around Han's shoulders. "Ah!" Luke gasped, pulling away for a second to inhale more air. Han moved his hands up Luke's back and pulled him back into the kiss. He then slid them back down and pulled Luke's legs up and around his waist. "Whoa!" Luke broke the kiss and gripped Han's shirt. "What's the rush? We have all night." "Three weeks," Han said. "You really think the repairs will last that long?" he asked. "No, it's been three weeks," Han said, in between kissing Luke. "Since... we've... fucked." "You've counted the days?" Luke asked, wincing slightly when Han bumped him into the wall. Luke leaned against it and giggled when Han moved his hands over his chest. "Less talking," Han said, pulling Luke's shirt open. "Han, wait," Luke said. "No waiting," Han said, licking his neck. Luke giggled again. "But wouldn't getting my clothes off be easier on the bed?" Luke said, gesturing toward it with his head. Han looked back at it. "Fine," Han said. He put Luke down on his own two feet and pulled his vest off. Luke walked around him, slipping out of his shirt as he walked to the bed. He jumped when Han came up behind him and encircled him in his arms. He kissed Luke's neck, biting down at the nape and sucking harder to give Luke a hickey. "Ahh...," Luke moaned, his legs turning to rubber when Han teased that spot of his neck. Han moved him up on the bed so they could kneel on it. Han reached down and rubbed the inside of Luke's thigh, dangerously close to his erection. "Oh...," Luke arched his back, sending Han's arousal into the crack of his ass. "You're just as hard up as me," Han breathed in Luke's ear. "Never said I wasn't," Luke said, looking over his shoulder at Han. He kissed Luke quickly and started to unbuckle his pants. As Han slid the zipper down, Luke pushed back again, the vibration against his erection making him arch up. Han was right; they had gone three weeks without even a kiss. It was maddening. Han suddenly pushed Luke onto his hands and knees. He pulled his black pants off all the way and tossed them over his shoulder. Han took a small tube of lube out of his pocket before doing the same to his own. He brought Luke's hips up and spread his cheeks. "Ah!" Luke yelped when the cold jelly touched his overly hot opening. "Relax," Han said, pushing his fingers in. "Un, yes," Luke put his head back and moaned when Han's thick fingers went deeper. It wasn't long before he was pushing back on them, trying to get them deeper. When he couldn't, he whined and pulled at the sheets. "Han, I can't stand it anymore. I need you now!" Han smirked when he spread a generous amount of the lube on his own throbbing erection. He put a hand on Luke's hip and used the other to guide himself in. "Then I'm all yours," he said. With that, he pushed in, slow but hard. "Oh God!" Luke moaned, pulling harder on the sheets. When Han pressed further inside his tight heat, his arms gave out, and he fell to his elbows. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Luke," Han gasped, trying to keep control of himself. He and Luke had been going at it for a couple of months now, and no matter how many times, no matter how hard or deep or fast Han thrust into him, Luke was always, always tight and hot. And thanks to the lube he picked up after their first time, Luke was slick. It was almost too much for Han to wait five seconds to let him adjust to his girth. And after just two, Luke was bucking back onto him. "Stop teasing me," he whined. Han withdrew slowly and then thrust back in. He repeated the motion, going faster each time until he got a steady rhythm. He leaned over Luke's back so he could see his face and steady himself on the mattress. To his dismay, he found Luke had his eyes shut tightly; he was also pulling on the sheet with his teeth, trying not to scream. "Am I hurting you?" Han asked, worried. "No, it feels so good... oh, Han... Han, it feels like I'm going to go insane if it gets any better," Luke gasped. Han suddenly stopped and pulled out of him completely. "Han, what the hell are you—" Luke was cut off when Han flipped him onto his back and pulled his legs around his waist. He re-entered Luke with one hard thrust, striking his prostate head-on. "Ah!" Luke bit his lip to keep from screaming. "Stop doing that," Han said, leaning down to kiss him. Luke put his arms around his shoulders. "Let me know you like it. Scream as loud as you want. If you don't... un... I'll just go harder and harder until you can't help but cry out." "Is that a threat or a promise?" Luke asked. Han smirked and thrust into him hard. Han liked how it made Luke's pretty green/blue eyes go wide. He looked absolutely beautiful when he was in ecstasy. Those full pink lips were open slightly with his heavy breathing, and he moaned. Sweat covered his tanned body, making his hair stick to his face. At the moment, Han decided he wanted to hear more of his arousing moans. He leaned down and, starting with Luke's neck, grazed his teeth across that perfectly smooth skin. "Han...," he could feel Luke's hands come up and comb through his hair, encouraging him to go further. While still thrusting into Luke, hard and fast, Han took one of his cute pink nipples into his mouth. He reached down with one hand and started pumping Luke's erection in his hand. "Han!" Luke moaned loudly, arching into all the sensations at once. "You feel so good... I can't take much more... are you close?" he asked. "Yeah," Han moaned, arching his back. He looked at Luke again. He recognized the look in his eyes. He leaned in and sucked that particularly sensitive part of his neck. "Ahh! HAN!!" Luke screamed, arching up far off the bed. It had become too much for him, and he came hard all over his stomach and Han's hand. "Han!" Han thrust into Luke just as his orgasm made his muscles contract around him. As he withdrew, his orgasm was squeezed out of him. "Yes!" He moaned, emptying himself inside Luke's tight heat. It was Luke's turn to smile as Han squeezed his eyes shut and collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms and legs around Han and hugged him tightly, shuddering when Han's softened penis slipped from inside him. Han lifted his head and kissed Luke lovingly before rolling onto his side. Han was just beginning to doze off when he felt a weight on his hips. He looked up to find Luke straddling him. His cute blond hair was messed up and clinging to his face from the sweat. Luke was a thing of beauty after sex. He glowed. "What are you doing?" Han asked, seeing the mischievous smile on Luke's face. "We have to make up for lost time," Luke said before trailing kisses down Han's torso. Han smirked and laid back.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: games Chapter 1 Thirty Days Has September. This little plot bunny came to me after re-finishing Batman Arkham City. It is intended as a one-shot but may be continued. P.S. So far, my work is unbeta'd, so any grammatical or spelling mistakes are my own. If anyone wants to volunteer, please PM me. Warning: some gory and violent scenes. "Hi," a voice spoke. Flashbacks: I'm Batman. Thoughts: Nobody likes Superman. "Thirty days has September, April, June, and November. All the rest have thirty-one. Except February alone, to which we assign twenty-eight, till leap year gives us twenty-nine." Julian Day sat alone in his cell under the Arkham City courthouse, repeating everything he knew of the calendar as if he were a broken record. Batman had come to visit him once a month, hearing of a past murder each time. Batman, however, wasn't his only visitor; his bride, Lyna, visited him whenever she could, having to escape from the horrific inmates every moment she was away from his cell. Blood that wasn't her own ran through her long blonde hair, narrowly missing falling into her eyes and trailing behind her as she entered the courthouse. This time was no different. The blood stained her white cloak a deep crimson, and even now, Julian took no notice of it. He'd been around enough blood to ignore it. Every year, he recounted tales of his encounters with Batman or people that he had murdered to her. He gloated over how he had killed three women on Mother's Day who had looked just like her. The fact that he had killed women with her likeness didn't bother her. Now, you might be thinking, why would a somewhat sane woman even consider falling for a man who would willingly kill a woman that looked like her? It's bad enough, yes, that he kills at all, but for a woman that looks like her? You'd think that she'd panic, but no. See, years earlier, ten to be exact, she had been at work at the Stoic and Aanderson Law firm as a personal assistant, yet again being sexually harassed by her middle-aged, greying boss, when Julian Day had entered her life. *Flashback* "Come now, Lyna, baby, you know that you want me," came Vincent Aanderson's poor attempt at flirting as she walked by his desk, narrowly missing his grab at her skirt-clad behind. Unable to walk behind due to the big window at the back of his chair, she'd heard his offers before, and every time she'd refused. "You know the answer to that, sir, no, and every time after that, no." She was getting annoyed with his constant attempts to bed her. She was one step away from throwing his solid gold letter opener at his nether regions, perhaps then he'd get the message. "You always say that, baby, and you know that it'll happen eventually." Keep dreaming, buddy, she thought to herself, starting to leave when his secretary buzzed him. (Yes, he has both a personal assistant and a secretary.) "Mr. Aanderson, your 10:00 is here," the woman's voice came through the speakers on his desk. "Excellent, Barbara," (Stereotypical secretary name, anyone?) "Send her in," came his curt reply. "Yes, sir." No sooner had she spoken when in came a sharply dressed man with silver-streaked, black hair and bright green eyes. He was followed by a burly man with brown hair and blue eyes, who was wearing a grey suit, that immediately drew the attention of the young twenty-three-year-old assistant. Little did she know that she had also attracted the burly man's attention. "Ah, Vincent, good to see you again," the black-haired man spoke. "You as well, Ripley. This is my assistant, Lyna. Lyna, this is my oldest friend," Mr. Aanderson gestured to Lyna. She gave a small nod in acknowledgement, trying to get a glimpse at the burly man without being noticed. "You always had an eye for the lookers, Vinny, have you had your way with her yet?" Ripley grinned at his friend. "Not yet, but I will soon enough, isn't that right, baby?" Aanderson pulled Lyna into his arms before she could react, laying a peck on her cheek. She pushed him away with disgust, wiping at her cheek. The burly man had tensed slightly with the contact. "Not now, not ever!" Lyna spat at her boss. "You could always fire her if she refuses, claim she was the one attempting to sleep with the boss," Ripley leered towards her. A slight growl escaped the burly man's mouth. "You be quiet, Day!" Ripley snapped at the man. "I could, couldn't I? Nobody would be the wiser, and I could sleep with her anytime I wanted, until I get sick of her." Aanderson grinned, starting towards Lyna, his pants already tightening with the thought. "Stay away from me!" Lyna gasped, backing away from him. Before anyone could react, the burly man ran at the desk, grabbing the letter opener that Lyna had been imagining using, and stabbing Ripley in the neck. The only noise that was made was a slight "guck" as the man pulled the blade out of Ripley's artery, causing blood to spurt over the carpet. Vincent was his next target; he immediately set upon him, tackling Vincent to the ground, straddling his thighs. "You like to rape women, huh? Try raping without anything to use!" With one slice, Vincent's manhood was gone. His scream of pain reverberated throughout the office, causing the secretary to fall out of her chair in shock. The man turned towards Lyna, who was cowered in the corner of the office, blood trailed down his hair and onto her clothes. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, running his fingers down her cheek. She flinched slightly before nodding. The doors slammed open yet again, but this time it was the police. One policeman rushed straight to the burly man and restrained him. The second checked both Ripley's and Vincent's pulses. "Dead," she murmured. "Julian Day, you're under arrest for the murders of Ripley Nash and Vincent Aanderson. You have the right to remain silent..." Everything after that was a blur to Lyna; she'd tried to defend him as he'd defended her, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. "Julian Day," she murmured quietly as they carted him away. They'd sentenced him to life in Gotham prison, assigned her a councillor, but it hadn't changed anything. Her saviour was in prison, and she'd see to it that he was freed. A few years later, they were married on May 13th, after she had the case re-tried and the jury had acquitted him. But after that, his killings started again, despite her telling him that she wanted a family. She could handle that; she'd gotten pregnant after her last visit to his cell, as the guard had let her in temporarily. She was currently four months along and had barely gotten to his cell, stabbing the men who tried to have her way with her, and staying out of the view of the Bat. "Guess what day it is today, hon?" she asked Julian, her hand reaching through the bars of his cell. She planned to keep him in his cell until the outside was safe enough for the both of them to escape. The guard had disappeared somewhere after a call went out that Catwoman had broken into Hugo Strange's vault. "I don't know, I haven't killed anybody on this day... Is it significant?" Calendar Man looked as though he didn't care if it was important or not. He forgot again? He's the Calendar Man! How could he forget? I remind him every year. His eyes narrowed in the middle of his now bald head. "Would you hurry and open this door, you're becoming quite bothersome." Her heart crushed at his words, her hormones affecting her brain. Bothersome? He thinks we're bothersome? My baby is bothersome? How dare he! Her mind snapped as she fumbled for the keys and blade in her pocket, her hands clasping each item before unlocking his cell. "Finally! It's about time you opened the door; I have important dates to prepare for." He walked by her quickly, heading for the stairs. She tackled him from behind, her blade piercing his spine. She flipped him over and glared at his face before bringing the knife above her head. "HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, HON!" The blade sliced through his throat, just as his eyes widened in realization. Lyna started sobbing softly, before her sobs turned into hysterical laughter. She dragged Julian back to his cell before tying a noose around his neck, attaching him to the light above his cell. "It'll be okay, sweety, mummy's gonna take care of you. It's just you and me now." She pulled her cloak tight around her as she left the courthouse. The next month, on Father's Day, Batman returned to the courthouse to find a long-dead Calendar Man, next to him was a calendar, and written in blood were the words "May 13th, Lyna and Julian's Anniversary." See you soon, Batman. Hope you enjoyed; I had a lot of fun writing this. Please review. :) xMelaniex *This was funny to me because it was the 29th word.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: harry_potter Chapter 1 The concept behind this story is, I think, a more realistic look at how Harry would have reacted to his mistreatment by the people who were supposed to care for him properly. That kind of neglect and abuse leaves scars, and not always ones that can be seen. While people have had Harry go to the extreme of being a terrified mouse, I don't think that this would be accurate. Having been through similar treatment, I can definitely say that Harry would have done his best to hide it. Especially because he was young and impressionable. He would have pretended everything was okay, and thought all the while that he had done something wrong. While it is admirable to assume that Harry could have come out of the situation completely sane, I honestly don't think that it could happen. I will warn the reader of this once, and only once. This is extremely dark. There is nothing that can truly heal the damage that is caused by neglect and starvation. A person who has gone through these things will never be who they were meant to be before it happened. If you are looking for something light and happy, then you have come to the wrong place. That being said, those of you who enjoy a well-written, dark, twisted story, welcome! I hope you enjoy this fanfiction. I expect the chapters will be short, and to the point. As the title suggests, this story takes place in the space of about thirty minutes. It is from Harry's point of view as he hides himself away, looking back on his past. It is about the journey of a lost, abused, traumatized little boy into a man behind a mask that he doesn't know how to remove. Also, this story is Slash. It will suggest relationships between two men. Some of them may not be consensual, some of them may. Which ones are and are not, that is for the reader to decide. I will not be posting this notice again, so anyone who has any questions will be directed back to this chapter in case you skipped this Author's Note. This story was inspired by a song by t.A.T.u called 30 Minutes. With a twisted sort of love, and hoping for feedback, RealmTender Chapter 1: Out of Sight, Out of Mind Dull eyes watched as he walked away. Then, everyone walked away, at some point, so it wasn't surprising. After all, being hidden meant not being hurt anymore, and not being hurt anymore meant so much more than finding out if people cared to look. It would be okay. He could leave. Things would go on, as they always had. It was just one more piece of the heart that went numb. There weren't too many left, so it was barely noticeable when this one piece went numb. Maybe it would be better if it all went numb. He guessed that one day, he might find out. And then he figured that by that point, he wouldn't really care. The small child hadn't always been treated so poorly. He knew that there was a time that was better. There was a time when someone had loved him, had cuddled him, had sung him bedtime songs. He remembered stuffed animals, and warm food, and snuggle blanket. He remembered having space to run and play. Then one night, he had a horrible dream. There was noise, and lots of flashing lights, and a hurt, and then he woke up somewhere else. Somewhere where all the things he remembered weren't true anymore. Now, there was lots of yelling, and he had to get up and work, and playing was not allowed anymore. They had taken away snuggle blanket, and the stuffed animal Woofie. He had been told they were too good for him, and they were given to some other child to play with. His special snuggle blanket and his Woofie were taken away, and he was put to work. He didn't much like work, but he did it, because not doing the work meant punishment, and he hated punishment. The other boy didn't have to do work, and never received punishment. Anything the other boy wanted, he got. The little boy who had lost everything didn't understand what made them different, but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, if he did enough work and avoided enough punishment, he could be like the other little boy. The one who got everything. Even if he only got part of everything, he would be happy. He hoped, maybe, that one day he might get to be treated a little bit like the other boy. It only took the adults he was to call Petunia and Vernon a month to beat that notion out of the boy. He was too little to remember his name, though he knew at one point he'd had one. When he dared to ask, Vernon had told him that it didn't matter anymore, and given him a punishment. It was weeks until he dared ask again. The second time, Petunia gave him the semblance of an answer. "You're a freak, and that's all you'll ever be." She had said. And then she had given him another punishment and extra work. So the boy assumed his name was Freak after that, and stopped asking questions. He had learned quickly that asking questions only made punishments worse, and added to his work while he was hurting. After a month of hoping, he cried himself to sleep in the pile of rags under the stairs, once he was allowed to crawl into the tiny cupboard and rest. He cried, and felt a piece of his heart go numb. It was the piece that he called Hope, and he mourned it dearly. That would not be the last piece of his heart to go numb in that house. Unfortunately for a boy called Freak, he would learn that far too late. By the time he made it out of the house, he would be very, very numb. But that night, he sobbed himself to sleep and felt his Hope go numb, dreaming of a day when he would be treated better. How could he have known that such a day would not come? The boy who thought of himself as Freak had been with Petunia and Vernon for a long time. It wasn't until they had to send him to school that he learned that his name wasn't 'Freak', but Harry Potter. It took him a while to learn to respond to the name, at least at school. He didn't mind school so much, since it meant that he had to do less work at home, and sometimes he even got to sneak in bits of playing. He was a quiet boy, and usually kept to himself. He had been taught early on that the less attention he drew to himself, the less likely he was to be punished, and the less likely he was to get extra work. It didn't always happen that way, but most of the time it did. So he had learned to try and be quiet, and stay out of the way. At school, he learned that he was supposed to be happy, and cheerful, and make friends. He learned he was supposed to play games, and run around, and make noise. He learned that it was expected for him to behave like the other children as much as possible. That was what Harry Potter was expected to do. And so the boy who called himself 'Freak' learned to wrap himself in this person he was supposed to be. He wasn't sure what anyone expected Harry Potter to be, so he made the boy a separate idea in his head. At school, Harry Potter was happy, and smiling, and cheerful. He had a couple accidents and was clumsy, which was why he had bruises all the time, of course. At school, Harry Potter did well in classes, though never better than the other boy he lived with, whom he had learned to call Dudley. At school, Harry Potter was a completely average, normal boy. At home, there was no Harry Potter. There was only Freak. Freak was timid, shy, and easily spooked. Freak worked hard, ate very little, and got punishments even when he did things right. Freak was weak, and often got locked in his cupboard, which meant that Harry Potter got sick a lot. It wasn't too long after going to school that Freak learned that he would never be treated the same as Dudley. And so, a few weeks into his first year of schooling, a boy who should have been known as Harry Potter sobbed himself to sleep in his cupboard once more, feeling the part of his heart that he had called Trust go numb. Freak promised himself that he wouldn't trust anyone ever again. Not completely. Because trusting completely only meant that he got hurt. And Harry Potter became another way to hide, to keep himself safe. Harry Potter could trust people, because Harry Potter wasn't real, and so he couldn't really get hurt. On the day he turned seven, Harry Potter had learned completely the art of staying out of the way and keeping his head down. He had been allowed, by teachers who thought that everything was all right, to fade into the background and be just another student. He kept quiet as much as possible, did only what was required of him, and nothing more. He grew apart from his friends. And if anyone had noticed, then they didn't say anything. At home, Freak was even more quiet. He did his work, took his punishment, and shut up. He knew better than to argue with Petunia and Vernon. He had tried, once, with Dudley, but learned that he would be punished for that too. So he had quickly shut up and did whatever was asked of him. It didn't stop the punishments, but it made them less. At the age of seven, Harry Potter was a young man with a split personality, no hope, and no trust. He had learned by then, very well, the maxim of 'Out of sight, out of mind'. Though he had never heard the words before, he could have told anyone who bothered to ask him that they were true. It was best for a boy who couldn't do anything right, or so he'd been told, to stay out of the way. Because if he stayed out of the way, then no one had to worry about him, and that suited him just fine. AN: So, yes, this is very dark. And some of you may say I'm being evil to poor Harry. But I do believe this is more realistic. If you want to complain, feel free to review, or please send me an email at [email protected]. There are plenty of warnings, so if you expected fluffy after reading those... I don't know why. RealmTender, signing out. NEXT CHAPTER Chapter 2 Chapter 2: Out of Time to Decide The boy that called himself Harry Potter continued to watch as the other boy walked away. His eyes dulled more. He had known, somehow, that they weren't as they had claimed. But it didn't seem to make a difference that he didn't care either way. Not much seemed to make a difference anymore. There wasn't much he could do to make a difference to anyone. He had tried. He honestly had. He had thought, maybe, this time, he could learn not to be numb. He had made the effort, tried to get Freak to like the boy, too. He wanted to try, and after a bit Freak had too. But it just hadn't worked. In the year that Harry Potter turned ten, his teachers had discovered that the boy would not tell if they hit him, or hurt him. He never told them why, but who would he have told? The adults meant to care for him did not believe him when he told the truth. So yet again, the boy learned a lesson about trust, and his heart numbed more. One teacher was particularly cruel, and liked to hold him after class and cut his skin and make him bleed. He didn't like the look in the man's eye when he was cut, but there wasn't much he could do to make it stop. That was not all the man did, though he couldn't often do the other things. There were times, where the boy was held long after class, and the man would pull his pants down, and put fingers into him. He didn't like this much, but there was nothing he could say or do about it. His family would never have believed him, and it was his word against theirs every time. So he took it in stride, and figured it was normal. He figured it was just one more thing about being Freak, and that he had better learn to put up with it. Somewhere, deep inside, he wished that he didn't have to deal with this, that there was someplace else to go. But he knew, logically, that there wasn't any other place, and this was his life. Harry Potter was a clever boy. He knew that maybe what was happening wasn't normal for everyone, but he figured it must be normal for someone like him. After all, everything bad seemed to happen to him and Freak. So he kept quiet. On the day, halfway through the school year, when the teacher who hurt him and stuck fingers in him got fired, the boy who called himself Harry Potter lost his innocence. He learned that the things the teacher had been doing should not happen to anyone. He learned that the man had done it to other students too. It was then his innocence died. When he learned that everything bad that could happen seemed to happen to him. He would never innocently assume that something was normal. Or that it wasn't normal. He never did speak up, because he did not trust the teachers. How could he? When Freak turned eleven, before the school year began, letters began to turn up for the boy who was supposed to be named Harry Potter. He was surprised that they were coming, and didn't know why. He wasn't surprised when Vernon and Petunia kept taking the letters away. After all, Freak wasn't allowed to have anything. Having the letters would defeat the point. He was very surprised by the lengths that Petunia and Vernon went to to make sure he didn't get any of the letters. He wanted to know, and curiosity was eating at his insides. He could not remember a time he had ever been so curious. He knew that he wasn't supposed to ask questions, though, so he didn't. He just ducked his head and obeyed. When the huge man, Hagrid, showed up, Freak was intimidated. Here was someone big enough to punish him even worse than Vernon or Petunia or Dudley. Freak retreated, and for the first time, Harry Potter was his own person. He was not just a mask for Freak. He had his own mind, and his own thoughts. Harry Potter wasn't afraid of anything, because Harry Potter didn't need to be. Harry Potter could never get hurt. Harry Potter befriended Hagrid, and finally got to read the letter. He learned that there was a somewhere else, and his curiosity grew. So did Freak's, though Freak was only vaguely paying attention. Harry Potter decided to go with this huge, strange man. He didn't trust him, and didn't have hope that he could make everything better, but he knew that if he didn't go, neither he nor Freak would survive the night. He was out of time to decide whether Freak could handle this or not. He had to choose to go, or they would never choose again. Once he had though, Freak's curiosity slowly died. Harry Potter claimed it. He decided to hold on to all those feelings for Freak, until maybe he was ready to take care of them again. He hoped, someday, that he could. He hoped that someday, they could both be Harry Potter. Freak knew now that he and Harry had been crazy to ever think that Theodore Nott would ever treat them right. He didn't know what they had been thinking. He figured that Gryffindors and Slytherins would never really mesh well. He curled up in his hiding place even more, thinking that this had been even more stupid than their crush on the other boy, the one that they would never have, because there would never be a way that boy would ever want them. A/N: So, another chapter is down. Sorry for the delay between updates. Delia Cerano: I appreciate your review. I know it's dark, and that it seems bad. But I will do my very best to give Harry and Freak a happy ending. Hopefully, you will enjoy this update. Thanks for reading. Signing out, RealmTender.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 30-Rock Grocery Store Secrets Chapter 1: Grocery Store Secrets "Okay, don't forget, Lemon, we have to stick to the list," Jack reminded her as they entered the grocery store. He was immediately unimpressed by the small place, which didn't seem to have the highest quality of food—at least, not like he was used to. Liz couldn't help but roll her eyes as she pulled up next to him with the cart. "I know! My mom gets really annoyed if I don't follow the list exactly, anyway. Especially because she's going to want to pay me back for what I've bought for her. The moment I go off the list, I have to prepare myself for her complaining," she said. Jack snorted at her response. "Plus, I know how you'd rather get junk food instead of Christmas dinner supplies," he muttered, poking her in the side. Suddenly, he was distracted by his daughter pulling on his coat. "Daddy, I wanna sit in the cart!" Alice begged. He scooped her up and plopped her into the seat. The five-year-old smirked at her older sister, who didn't care at all, because she was more focused on what Liz was doing. Jack noticed that his eldest daughter was being very serious, and he began to question her as they headed into the produce section. "Liddy, what's going on with you? You're awfully quiet," he prodded. She rolled her eyes and put her hand into Liz's. "I want to learn everything that's happening here! I mean, I'm ten years old! I'm going to have to know how to do this on my own at some point!" Liddy said, with a little panic in her voice. Jack and Liz couldn't help but laugh. "Sweetie, I think you're having a bit of an overreaction," Jack said. "But, mom—I mean, Liz, I wanna learn how!" she begged. Liz didn't miss her stepdaughter's slip-up. It had been happening a lot lately, even though Liddy was completely aware that Avery was really her mother. Liz figured that it was because Avery didn't see Liddy that much, since she had basically become MSNBC's female version of Anderson Cooper and was spending a lot of her time reporting from the Middle East. Not that Liz, Jack, or maybe even Liddy minded, which really did upset Liz deep down. Jack and Avery had sat down with Liddy and explained the situation, and she was a smart enough girl to understand what was going on. But Liz wasn't going to deny that it made her heart swell whenever Liddy did call her "mom," just as it did every single time Alice, her biological daughter, did. Though Alice was very much a daddy's girl and clung to Jack constantly. Of course, it didn't help that he spoiled both of his daughters immensely. Liddy, however, was often more attached to Liz, and Liz couldn't help but love it. Liddy loved to follow her stepmother around at work and act as if she was running the show, too. She even told her class during career day that she wanted to be a writer when she grew up, just like Liz. As they made their way through the produce, Liz taught Liddy how to make sure the fruits and vegetables looked perfect enough to bring home and eat later. Meanwhile, Jack was stealing grapes and giving them to Alice. They moved down the list with relative ease. Alice was distracted by every single food made to grab the attention of children, while Liddy acted as if she was too mature for that and stuck to Liz's side. When they were left with only four items on the list for Christmas dinner, Liz managed to snag the one thing she had been looking for that wasn't on the list without Jack seeing. Liddy, of course, noticed immediately, but Liz quickly put a finger over her lip, and she pretended as if she didn't see anything. But as they turned the corner, Jack noticed the orange bag Liz was trying to keep out of sight. "Lemon, don't think I didn't see that snack food. I thought we were going to stick to the list?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. Liz turned to Liddy and asked her to push the cart for a while and to show Alice where the freezer items were, while she and Jack hung back a little. "Ah, you caught me," she let Jack see that she had snagged a bag of Sabor de Soledad. He looked confused. "Why do you have that? I thought you only craved that stuff these days when you're pregnant," he said, his voice trailing off as he froze, mouth open a little, as Liz blushed and nodded. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I was going to tell you Christmas morning in private, but I just really needed this junk food. And I know we didn't really talk about having another kid, but I guess it just happened, and I'm sorry," she rambled, but he immediately pulled her in for a very passionate kiss. "Really? Liz, this is fantastic! We're going to have another child!" he whispered in excitement, and she beamed back at him and kissed him again. Suddenly, they heard a round of "ewws" from their daughters. "Come on, you guys, not in public," Liddy begged. The couple laughed as they noticed the horrified look on the girls' faces. They continued down the aisle, and Jack leaned into Liz's ear and whispered. "Let's keep it secret as long as we can, though. I'm not ready to explain to Alice where babies come from."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 30-Rock Idina Part 2 *Chapter 1: Idina Part 2* Liz Lemon was having just about the worst day ever. Jenna, as usual, was flipping out because Tracy's face would be the only thing on the new sign they were to place in Times Square. "That is why I believe it should be my face!" Jenna cried before pounding her head on Liz's extremely cluttered desk. "Well, Jenna, I'll see what we can do," Liz replied, already tired, mainly because Tracy had called her all night talking about flying fish and the Black Crusaders being after him as his new movie was not to be shown in favor of Whoopi Goldberg's "I'm Black and I'm Back." "Liz, please, you know I've always wanted my face in Times Square," Jenna moaned continually. "Jenna, if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, the reason it's not is because..." "I need love!!!!!!" Jenna screamed while leaping onto Liz's desk, sending several papers askew as she yelled. "I need love!!!" "Okay, Jenna, very well," Liz said before exiting the room. It was then that Liz met the worst thing she had ever seen in her life: a black-haired woman in a plain T-shirt and jeans, and the worst thing of all was that it was her cousin, Idina. "Hi, cuz," Idina called to Liz in her laid-back voice, giving the peace sign. "Hello, Idina," Liz managed, being sociable to the face of evil for now, but if she looked at the face one more minute, she would scream. "Well, Liz, don't you look great!" Idina added, still using her same voice, only now her eyes were gleaming like they were little emeralds. "Cut the crap, Idina, what do you want?" Liz asked, sensing the real reason behind her cousin's embrace. "I can't just say hi, can I?" Idina asked, shifting her hips to the side. Liz thought back to the deeds of this wicked woman. Liz had always been measured to Idina in one way or another - her acting skills, writing, athletics, singing, you name it, Idina did it better. Always thwarting Liz. That would have been okay if she had been nice, but Idina had well... Flashback: 1984 The talent show was bright with streamers as Idina held a trophy the size of her. She had won for her wonderful voice. Liz had entered to read her story, "The Shadow," earning her second place to Idina, who sang "Betty Davis Eyes." "Well, Liz, I guess now we know which of us really will make it," Idina laughed, walking away with her friends. End Flashback Yeah, she had been a bitch. "Well, I guess you should have made it already," Liz commented. "I do have work, remember that musical 'The Wild Party'? I gave you tickets to," Idina added. Flashback A man was watching Idina do bar tricks, such as throwing them in the air. End Flashback "That was a play?" Liz asked. "Yes, it was," Idina replied. "So, your job was to do bar tricks and get guys drunk?" "No, that was Kristen," Idina added defensively. "The point is, I was wondering if you would let me on your show. You see, I have two CDs out, one called 'The Hookup' and the other called 'Breakup.'" Idina displayed the CDs as little earrings, putting them close to her ears. "No, Idina, not happening. I'm sorry, we have Adam Lambert this week, plus Idina, no one knows you except the two people who bought those CDs," Liz added. "No, I read the report this time, 200, Liz, better than yours!" Idina yelled. "Still, no way, you don't do these shows for a break," Liz added. "Well, we will see about that," Idina said, rushing off. End Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Liz, after her run-in with the wicked witch of the west, quickly turned into Jack's office to see if he could make it so Idina never entered the building again, ever! Approaching the desk of his gay receptionist, Liz asked if she could go in. "Hey, Josh, right?" Liz asked. He nodded. "Can I see Mr. Donaghy?" Liz asked, heaving from her run down the hall. "No, he's with a Miss Michaels," he mimicked Idina's funny voice. "Josh, how did she act?" Liz asked, fearing what Idina might do to get her fame. "She acted very precocious, like she was all that, she even tongued my tie," Josh added, tearing up about his clothes. "It's fine, she's my cousin, and frankly, I hate her," Liz added, trying to soothe the poor gay. "Anyway, when she saw Mr. Donaghy, she got all flirty and started licking her lips and walking slow," his voice seemed unusually high as he mocked Idina. "Oh, boy," Liz thought, trying to get to the door before Idina was able to get on TGS. Liz tried to force the door open, but it just wouldn't budge. "Josh, do you have a key?" Liz asked. "Yes, Miss Lemon," he quickly tossed Liz the keys. Liz wasted no time in turning the key in its slot and opening the huge mahogany door. The sight that greeted her was not pleasant. Idina had, from the looks of it, grabbed Jack by the tie and was madly making out with him. "I knew it, Idina!" Liz yelled at the brunette for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "Hey, Liz, you know I should come here more often, you have the best boss ever!" Idina enthused, still holding onto Jack. "No, you shouldn't be here more often, you should be gone, back to your touring company!" Liz exclaimed. "Seriously, Lizzy, are you sure I can't? Remember when we were young," Idina tried to get unexceptionally sappy, poking out her lip. Flashback: 1985 Liz was at her locker, quietly getting her books, when who else would come but Idina and her entourage of mainly gays. "Hi, Liz," Idina said.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 30-Rock Imperfect Together *Chapter 1: Imperfect Together* Title: Imperfect Together Author: Mindy Rating: K+ implied sexy. Disclaimer: I bow to Tina. Spoilers: Not really. Pairing: Jack/Liz Summary: Jack asks a delicate question. "Darling?" Liz's head turns on the pillow, her eyes half-lidded. "You talking to me?" "Do you see anyone else in the bed with us?" Jack asks. "Baby?" "Wait, what?" She scrunches her brow at him. "I thought I was darling." Jack smiles languidly. "You're both to me." "This is confusing," she sighs. "Is there anything else I should be answering to?" "Sweet-lips?" She pulls a face. "Hm. I probably won't answer to that. Or anything to do with any body part. Even sweet ones. Especially sweet ones." "Well," Jack murmurs, his voice a weary rumble in his throat, "there is still my favorite endearment." She adjusts her head in her hand. "What's that?" He is silent for a moment. Beneath the covers, his thumb grazes back and forth over her bare thigh. "My love." "My love?" she repeats. "Yes?" he answers. "I wasn't... saying it back, I was—" she shakes her head. "Never mind. What did you want to ask me?" Jack draws in a breath, his eyes scanning her face. "It's... delicate." "I'm gonna get it waxed," she responds immediately, a little defensively. "I just haven't had time." He narrows his eyes. "What're you talking about?" "Nothing," she shrugs. "Not anything. Go on." Jack shifts onto his side, mirroring her position. One hand supports his head, the other moves to her face, her jaw, fingertips tentative. "I wanted to ask you... about this." Liz frowns. "I need a chin-wax?" "No," he says softly. "No..." He pauses, lifting his eyes to hers before asking, "This scar right here." Her eyes lower, only momentarily. "Oh." He pauses again. Then asks her, "How'd you get it?" "No." She hesitates. "It's not in my personnel file or something?" "My sexuality has little to do with that," she points out, "but you had that in there." "Well..." he muses, "Sexuality can impact greatly on work performance, in my experience. The reason I was interested in yours, however, was not... entirely professional." She gives a bewildered smile. "You had the hots for me back then?" He bobs his head. "I was... curious, I admit." Her smile increases. "Yikes, Donaghy. You had it bad." "I just wanted to hear it from your lips," he says, one hand running over her hip. "Hear what?" "That you were straight. That you liked men." "You didn't hate me," he says, eyes watching the lazy progress of his hand. "You're right." Her eyes drop away as she recalls that earlier time. "Hate isn't strong enough. Loathe would be more accurate. Detest, revile—" Jack smiles down at her. "Is this your way of avoiding my question? Because if you don't wish to tell me, you really don't have to." Her face falls a little, apparently having forgotten his former query. "No," she says quietly, "I'm not avoiding the question. It's not that I don't want to tell you, or won't tell you. I will, Jack. It's just... I'm not in the mood. Not right now. I'm... happy—" "Understood," he whispers and kisses her lightly. "Please—" Jack puts a finger over her lips. "Don't say another word." She blinks uncertainly, then appears to relax. "Okay..." His fingers move to her chin, he holds it between his thumb and forefinger, tips it up as he moves in to kiss her again, slow and gentle. Liz sinks back into her pillow, responds a little as he places a series of soft kisses on and around her lips, laying them randomly on each corner, the upper edge, then the lower, before heading up over her left cheek. The cheek he has kissed dozens of times, in exactly the same fashion. With her hands on his shoulders, she seems to tense at this — recoil, almost, in a way that is barely perceptible. Jack feels it though, and when he pulls back, her eyes are not closed with the ecstasy he is used to seeing when they are in bed. In fact, her face exhibits no sense of bliss at all. Her eyes look troubled, brows drawn together, as she bites down on her lip. "What's wrong?" he asks softly. "I'm..." she shakes her head, not quite looking at him. "Nothing. I'm aware of it now, that's all. Usually, I just forget it's there." Jack nods. "I do too." "Is it ugly?" she says, meeting his eyes suddenly. "What?" "Do you think it's ugly?" she asks, simply and straightforwardly, as though the answer barely mattered. Her face relaxes into a lopsided smile. "Even my ears?" "I adore your ears," he replies emphatically. "I'm devoted to your ears. The pair of them." She snorts a little, pats his arm. "I love your face too." Jack lifts his brows. "Even if my eyes aren't as blue as they once were?" "Thank you, darling," he sighs, gives her another kiss. "I feel exactly the same way." "I am going to get that waxed," she murmurs tenderly. "Really." Jack smiles at her. "Even if you didn't, baby." "I'd still be your love?" she finishes for him, brown eyes glinting. He nods once. "You'd still be my love." Liz is silent for a moment. "Good," she murmurs before kissing him.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 30-Rock Page Six Again Chapter 1: Page Six Again This was written for the Thoughtsicles Drabble-a-thon over at LiveJournal with the prompt "Jack/Liz - power couple." You should check it out! Disclaimer: I do not own anything that you recognize. That all belongs to the brilliant Tina Fey. Jack's work was interrupted one day, as it often was, by a somewhat flustered Liz Lemon barging into his office on a moment's notice. His equally flustered assistant was right on Liz's heels, muttering a stream of apologies for letting Liz disturb him. "It's fine, Jonathan," Jack said, waving away his assistant and turning to Liz, who was standing in front of his desk clutching a newspaper and wearing a look that fell somewhere between angry and worried. "What is it, Lemon?" "We're in Page Six," she said, holding up a copy of The New York Post. "Again, you mean," Jack said pointedly. "For the last time, I didn't mean that Class A Moron stuff!" Liz exclaimed as she threw up her hands in frustration. Jack held out a hand to halt her waving. "Relax, Lemon, I know." Liz visibly relaxed a little, and Jack sensed that it was safe to pursue her original reason for finding him. "So, what is the Page Six emergency now?" Liz, remembering her purpose, held up her copy of The Post again. "Page Six wrote about us," she said in the same tone of voice that one would report a huge outrage. When Jack said nothing, Liz looked down at the paper and started reading it. "'In some news straight out of 30 Rock, GE's Vice President of East Coast Television Programming, Jack Donaghy, and sketch comedy show TGS's head writer, Liz Lemon, will announce their engagement this week. Watch out, television; this new power couple could control things for the next ten years.'" Liz put down the paper on Jack's desk and paused, looking at Jack expectantly. Jack, sensing that he needed to react to this, responded with the only thing he could think of. "They left out my microwaves," he said. Liz immediately donned her angry badger face. "What?" she asked incredulously. "Technically, my title is Vice President of East Coast Television and Microwave Oven Programming. The article made no mention of the microwaves," Jack said simply. "What? No, come on, Jack, that is so not the reaction I was going for," Liz sighed, disappointed at his lack of appropriate reaction. Jack shook his head with a what-more-do-you-want-from-me? look on his face. "And what kind of reaction would that have been?" "I don't know, maybe being angry that people decided to pry into our private lives like I am," Liz replied sarcastically. "I mean, really, it's none of their business about us. And 'power couple'? How weird is that?" Jack hesitated as he tried to figure out what to say. "Lemon, I'm not sure I understand your objection to this," he started. "I would think that, with your historically low self-esteem, being called part of a power couple might raise your self-image and give you more confidence, not make you angry." "I'm not the 'power' part of the power couple, Jack, I'm just part of the couple," Liz stated, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. "In order to be considered a power couple, both parts of the couple have to be considered powerful," Jack told her, as if he was explaining that two and two was four. "But I'm not powerful," Liz stated simply. Jack sighed in exasperation and stood up from his chair. "Lemon, you're the head writer and creator of one of the fastest-growing comedy shows on television," Jack said. He walked around to the front of his desk and sat on the edge of it, looking straight at her skeptical face. "You won an Emmy last year for your writing, not to mention the fact that TGS also stole the show at the Emmys. Now you're engaged to one of New York's most eligible bachelors, and you're going to tell me that you're not powerful?" Liz glared at Jack over her glasses for a second before shaking her head in defeat. "Whatever. Maybe we are a power couple," Liz conceded. A smug smile danced across Jack's face as he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to him, closing the gap between them. "But I still don't like people poking around in my life." "Well, if that article is anything to go by, it looks like you're going to have to get used to it, because you will be controlling television for quite a while," Jack informed her. Liz sighed. "Blerg. I hate it when people pay attention to me," Liz muttered. "Somehow, I think you'll manage," Jack assured her sincerely. "I think you'll enjoy being half of a power couple. Besides, I have no intention of ceasing to pay attention to you. And I've never heard you complain about any of my attention before," Jack said, grinning mischievously. Liz's cheeks reddened slightly at the innuendo. "Well, no, I wasn't talking about you," Liz corrected quietly. Jack's smile widened. "You know what I meant," she mumbled. Jack nodded and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "Yes, Liz, I know what you meant," he said reassuringly. "I know everything about you." "If I wasn't going to marry you, that would be really creepy." "Well, then, it's a good thing you are going to marry me." "Yeah, it is."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 30-Rock The Unchosen One Chapter 1: The Unchosen One Title: The Unchosen One Author: Mindy35 Rating: K+ Disclaimer: Tina's, NBC's, etc. Pairing: Jack/Liz, Jack/Avery Spoilers: "Que Sorpresa", "Cooter" Summary: Post-ep. Liz gives Jack the basics. After some in-depth debate, Tracy and Jenna divide up her pregnancy photos between them, leaving one on her desk, so that they each have an equal number of prints commemorating her humiliation. Before leaving, Jenna leans down to pat her hand, murmuring something about her time coming. Liz just frowns and watches them leave, happily comparing their booty. Jack looks down at her, his brows furrowed. "What did she mean by that?" he asks. Liz looks up and shrugs. "It's Jenna, Jack. I wouldn't look too deeply for meaning. So anyway," she gets up from her chair, retrieving a heap of bags from the far corner of her office. "I went back to the baby store and got you some of the stuff you're going to need. I don't know why you two don't just have a massive baby shower; then people would give you all this stuff for free." "Like I said," Jack tells her, stepping closer, "there would be no one to invite." "Right, I forgot. Avery has no friends. Neither do you, really." "Except you," Jack replies. "Well, lucky for you," Liz murmurs, sorting through the stuffed totes, "I got onesies and bibs and booties and hats and sweaters and muslins – babies love those. You'll definitely need more than this, but it's a start." "Thank you, Lemon," he says, taking the offered bags. "I wouldn't have even known what to buy." "I know," Liz responds. "But I couldn't let you purchase all of this for us," Jack says. "I didn't. I still had your credit card from before." She pulls her wallet out of her jeans, extracts his credit card, and slips it into his breast pocket, giving it a little pat. "There you go. You also paid for those prints of me; you should probably know." "That seems fair," Jack says, glancing over his shoulder at the last print sitting on her desk, the one of her reaching out to her supposedly expecting mirror image. "Does that mean I get to keep that one?" "I thought they looked happier than usual," Liz replies. "And some for me too," Jack says. "I assumed," Liz responds. "I already ate mine," Jack admits. "Again, assumed," Liz says with a smile. "Also, I, ah..." Liz turns to pick up a box, also squirreled away in the corner. She hesitates, looking at its contents before holding it out to him. "Here. I want you to have this." Jack sets his load of bags aside. "What's this?" he asks. Liz takes a breath, explaining: "When I thought I was pregnant, I went out and bought a few things. I got a little carried away. And whenever I needed cheering up, I'd just add a little something else to it. It's mostly toys and books and stuff." Jack nods slowly, eyeing her. "I see..." "Look – don't say anything about my biological clock, just take the box," Liz says, shoving it towards him. "Okay?" "No, Lemon," Jack urges, pushing the box back into her arms. "You should hang onto this." She shakes her head, pushing back. "What for, Jack? I might never – you're the one having the baby." "I insist, Lemon. Jenna is right," Jack says, pausing until her eyes meet his. "Your time will come." "Well... then..." Liz hugs the box close, reaches into it, and pulls out a faded canvas bag. "*I insist* that you at least take my collection of reclaimed baby shoes." Jack looks mildly incredulous. "What's my daughter meant to do with that?" Liz looks more incredulous. "Use them as cars for her troll dolls, duh." "Troll dolls?" Jack questions. She wags her head. "You have so much to learn, old man." "Don't call me that," Jack says. "And anyway," Liz adds, heading back to her desk and placing her box of goodies next to it, "I think the kid should have at least one thing that isn't perfect." "What about her father?" Jack asks after a moment. Liz faces him, looking vaguely surprised. She gives him a small smile. "You're going to do great, Donaghy." "I'm going to miss a lot of things," Jack says, slowly pacing back toward her desk. "I know that. And I'm not always going to be aware of what she needs. I'm sorry I missed what this might be like for you, Lemon, what you might have needed. I just got caught up –" "I know," Liz interjects, ducking her head. "And it's okay. You were just protecting your family. And... it was kind of nice. Even if it was just pretend." "Well..." Jack shifts on his feet, looking uncertain, then turns to collect his bags. "I know Avery is going to appreciate you taking care of all this." "I didn't do it for Avery," Liz says quietly while his back is turned. Jack faces her, nods once. "Then *I* appreciate... all you've done. As will little Colleen Elizabeth Donaghy, I'm sure." She smiles, more warmly this time, then admits, "That is kind of pretty." "It is," Jack agrees before glancing down at the bags in his hands. "I hope you get to experience all this soon." Liz nods, sits, and delves back into her work. "We'll see." Jack turns to go, but her voice stops him on the threshold. "So... you're not leaving then. You're going to stay now. Right?" Liz asks. He turns back and smiles. "I'm not going anywhere." Liz gives another little nod. "...Good."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 30-Rock The Venerable Ugly Doll Chapter 1: The Venerable Ugly Doll Title: The Venerable Ugly Doll Author: Connecticut Junkie Summary: Jack is fascinated by the Obama girls. Rating: PG Disclaimer: I don't own 30 Rock, NBC, or any other subsidiary of the Sheinhardt Wig Corporation. Notes: Just a quick little ficlet I had to write after watching the Daily Show a few nights back. Jack is fascinated by the Obama girls. Liz enters his office to find him transfixed in front of FOX news (he won't watch MSNBC, even though it is part of the Sheinhardt Wig Corporation), a look of adoration and, yes, it definitely is, longing on his face. Longing. Liz is confused. "You okay there, big guy?" she asks. Why does she call him "big guy"? She is confused again, this time by her own actions. "Ugly doll," Jack says reverentially, as if that explains it. "Well, I've been called worse pet names, so, uh, thanks," Liz replies. This manages to get his attention away from the TV, and his eyes turn to her for the first time since she entered the room. After a brief, disappointing flick to her chest (she was wearing a turtleneck that day), he gives her a look of pity. "It's a toy hanging from Sasha's backpack. But really, Lemon, you've got to stop dating losers." "That last guy wasn't a loser. He was a businessman!" Liz protests. "He sold hot dogs on the street," Jack points out. "That's a legitimate business," Liz argues. "You worry me," Jack says. "I worry you? You're the one who can't stop watching the Obama girls going to school!" Liz retorts. "I envy them," Jack says, speaking each word slowly and deliberately, as if Liz doesn't understand English. "It's because they're getting a puppy, isn't it?" Liz asks sarcastically. He ignores her jab. "Can you imagine being eight years old and living in the White House? Waking up in the middle of the night for some chocolate milk and stumbling across Lincoln's ghost as he raids the kitchen for a ham sandwich on rye? Sneaking into the Oval Office to read the President's Book of Secrets?" Liz tries to point out that this scenario is from a stupid Nicholas Cage movie, but Jack keeps talking over her. "Stumbling upon Bill Clinton's hidden porn stash—" "Yeah, I don't think that's going to be a great thing for little girls to find," Liz interrupts. He continues to ignore her. "Having the whole country—no, the world!—wondering what your science fair project will be. I can tell you, Lemon, what it won't be. It certainly won't be 'How Whiskey Affects Colleen Donaghy' featuring a graph emphasizing the exponential relationship between excess consumption and little Jackie Boy's humiliation." "Wow," Liz says. "It won second place. Another Jack Donaghy failure in her eyes," Jack adds. Liz starts to understand how his atypical childhood would make him yearn for one that was normal and yet atypical in an infinitely better way. Now she pities him, which always makes her feel weird, because she knows Jack would hate to be pitied. It's the guilt over pitying him that makes her give him a hug, as uncharacteristic as that might be. "Thank you," he says as she pulls away, having returned to his cool, collected self. "Hey, that's what friends are for," Liz replies. The look on Jack's face becomes contemplative, and Liz gets that feeling in the pit of her stomach she gets when she knows he's going to suggest something completely insane. "Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no," she says preemptively. "Let's make a child," Jack suggests. Liz tries to say something but just chokes on her spit instead. Jack watches her struggle for air with a raised eyebrow and the infinite patience of Buddha. Finally, she comes up with, "Why?" and for a word with only three letters, she seems to stretch it out in an incredibly long, high-pitched screech. "I feel I can do better than most parents. I have a vast skill set, not to mention handsome genes, that I can pass along. A child born of my loins will be born with an innate advantage and can quite possibly rule the world if given enough opportunity," Jack explains. "Plus, you'd get a tax break," Liz points out. "Only poor people pay taxes, Lemon," Jack replies. "Oh," Liz says, followed by a long pause as she tries to figure out a proper escape plan. Maybe then she can mix all the alcohol the writers have hidden around the office into what's left of her morning coffee, drink it down, and forget all this ever happened. "I'm gonna go," she says finally. "Because... there are things... and I have to go... to do the things." Jack is again ignoring her babble. He focuses his intense gaze at her, a calculating look upon his face. "Are you ovulating yet, Lemon?" he asks. She puts a protective hand over each of her ovaries (or where she assumes her ovaries are, because what does she know about anatomy?) in the off chance he can impregnate her with that horribly piercing glare. The one that has a gleam of insanity in it. Taking a few steps back towards the door, she points at the TV. "Look, they're going over the lunch menu for their school!" The age-old distraction works, and Jack focuses on the TV instead of her. As she continues to take steps towards the door, Jack heads for the TV, running his fingers over the screen. "Cheese tortellini with fresh marinara," he whispers. As she makes it out into the hallway, she can hear him sigh. "I want to go to there."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 30-Rock You'll Be Dead When Your War Is Won *Chapter 1: You'll Be Dead When Your War Is Won* When Jack kisses her, she's totally unprepared. Partly because they are both in relationships with other people, and also, it's Jack and her - they aren't meant to kiss. End of. So, yeah, she pulls back and slaps him. Not particularly hard, because, well, she doesn't want to hurt him. Just maybe surprise him as much as he surprised her. And, yeah, she's never slapped anyone before, and her hand stings like hell. "Son of a bitch," she says, shaking her hand. He opens his mouth, but she cuts him off, whispering angrily so they aren't overheard. "What are you thinking, Jack? Avery is in the kitchen with your baby growing in her womb, and I'm in a relationship with a pilot. For God's sake, Jack, you cannot screw this up, for you or for me. You... you... you ass monkey!" He doesn't get a chance to respond because, as she finishes, Avery appears in the doorway. She's smiling, so she obviously hasn't heard the exchange, and he feels surprisingly grateful. Because Lemon is right - she's in a relationship, and he's got this amazingly smart and beautiful woman living with him. Avery steps towards them, grinning still, one hand holding a tray of cheese and biscuits, the other hand resting on her small, but very much there, baby bump. He shakes his head and looks at Lemon out of the corner of his eye. She's grinning tightly, her eyes unwilling to move from gazing at the tray of food. He looks at Avery, and she smiles up at him adoringly, and he breathes out gratefully. Since the kiss, Jack and Liz spend little time together alone. For meetings, they leave his office door open, and since he's with Avery, there's no need for Liz to accompany him to any formal events, so they don't really have any need to see each other outside of work. Besides, she's got Carol, and is totally wrapped up in trying to act like a normal person for once, so she can't waste energy on worrying about her friendship with Jack. The avoidance works well until the Christmas party. Ludachristmas is Liz's chance to let loose, and by this, all that is meant is that she consumes an unhealthy amount of eggnog and spiked punch (courtesy of Frank is the most likely guess). Jack offers to help her outside to get some fresh air so she can sober up a little, and she readily accepts, because she doesn't want a repeat of Kenneth's party and the making out with Griss. She decides it's far safer to follow Jack upstairs to his empty office than to stay downstairs and end up doing something she'd later regret. That's how she finds herself outside on the balcony of Jack's office. It's dark and snowing lightly, and if she was sober, she'd totally realize that being there was a bad idea. But she's not sober, and she's pretty sure he isn't either. At least, that's what she tells herself when he leans in and kisses her. She doesn't slap him this time, because the air is cold on her cheeks, and his mouth is hot. His hands cup her cheeks, and she kisses him back hungrily. It's not until one of his hands leaves her cheeks and reaches to her chest, his fingers plucking at her blouse buttons, that her head seems to clear. She puts both hands on his chest and pushes him away, stepping back. They stand a foot apart, breathing heavily, and she stares at him. "We can't do this, Jack," she says, her eyes filled with pain, as she tries to straighten her top out. "Lemon, I-" "No, Jack. You're with Avery; this isn't right. I don't cheat. Liz Lemon is not a cheater, and I love Carol. He's great for me. I can't screw this up because this may be my last chance, Jack. And besides, you and me wouldn't work anyway. You've had plenty of chances before now to... to start whatever it is you're trying to start. Times when I was single, and you weren't in a relationship with someone who's having your baby. You're doing this because you're scared. You're scared that you're going to be a father, that Avery being pregnant means you actually have to commit to something, that you have to commit to Avery. I can't be your safety net for this, Jack. I can't be your backup plan," she says, ignoring the fact that, yes, she is actually crying in front of him, because the feeling of self-loathing overpowers any feelings of embarrassment she could have. He looks away from her and shuffles uncomfortably. "Exactly, Jack. I'm gonna go and... I'm just gonna go now," she says. He watches her leave before scrubbing a hand across his face. "Shit," he says to the silent New York skyline, because he can't help but feel like he's made a monumental fuck-up. "Shit." And yet... he does kiss her. In the middle of his living room, or rather, his and Avery's living room, seeing as the blonde bombshell had moved into his apartment immediately after dropping the baby bombshell. And no, Lemon is not at all jealous. Obviously. Because two people who obviously don't want to settle down and be parents should totally be able to get pregnant at the drop of a hat whilst she still remains baby-less. Yeah, not jealous at all. Anyway, Liz's reaction to Jack kissing her whilst Avery's in the kitchen is to slap him, once she's actually got her brain functioning, because for a minute it was firmly stuck on 'Oh, Jack's kissing me. Jack's kissing me. Jack is kissing me'.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: movies Chapter 1 Jareth, King of the Goblins, swept his wife into the crowd as the music swelled around them. "How are you enjoying the ball, precious?" he asked as they moved as one across the floor, couples all around them mimicking their dance but never quite matching their grace. "It's beautiful. I can't believe it's been 30 years," Sarah, Queen of the Goblins, answered, smiling up at her husband. "Well, since I beat the Labyrinth, anyway. It took a little longer to win the real prize...for you, that is." She joked. "I couldn't disagree with you," he replied, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Eight of the longest years of my life, until you finally came to your senses and said yes." They laughed together, both enjoying the playfulness that existed between them. In her mind, Sarah replayed that night so long ago, the night a careless wish changed everything. A wish that brought all the magic and love into her young life. A few nights after her adventure, Jareth had formally requested to come and speak with her through her friend Hoggle. She had reluctantly granted his request, and they sat and talked for a long time in the park, him disguised as a human. A friendship had developed between them, which thrilled her, as she had befriended the Goblin King. Even though they had once been adversaries, deep down she had known he had given her a precious gift. She became strong and independent, discovering she could conquer any goal she set if she tried hard enough. She discovered he was not evil at all, but a deeply lonely, lost soul, looking for a kind word and someone to talk to. He hid all of that behind his gruff and icy demeanor, because, although he was surrounded by subjects, they could hardly understand the troubles of their King. She found him brilliant, funny, and came to understand how difficult his job was. She bloomed after that night, making more friends, trying out for the drama club, and gaining something she had never thought she would: popularity among her peers. She sought out leadership, becoming class president and heading movements for charities of all types. She loved helping people. In college, she was known as "The Cause Girl," always working to better her world. Through it all, her friends underground remained true, proud of all she had become. One friend, especially, stood out. The Goblin King watched her blossom, proud of his beloved Champion, who was also the owner of his heart. He did not push for more, because he thought it best to let her live as she chose, and if one day she chose him, it would be of her own volition. He became her best friend and confidante, celebrating her triumphs and offering a shoulder to cry on in her sorrows. She asked for nothing but his friendship, preferring to work for and accomplish all on her own. Then, one day, she kissed him. Jareth remembered that night, looking into her sparkling eyes on this night, the anniversary of their meeting. She had been working late at her off-campus job in her senior year, and he had arrived to walk her safely home, as he often did. As they strolled back to her small apartment nearby, she had dropped her keys, and they had both bent to pick them up. As they knelt together on the sidewalk, his lips had brushed her cheek, and she had turned in surprise, bringing their lips together. She had looked at him in sudden wonderment and leaned in, increasing the pressure, her soft lips against his for the very first time. The spark that had always been there exploded to life. Over the next few months, their romance blossomed, heading towards her graduation. The night she received her college diploma, he asked her to marry him. She said no, but asked him to ask again later. He kept asking, and she kept refusing. For another year, as she traveled her world, taking a well-earned rest, her constant companion was Jareth. Sarah went to Europe, China, Africa, seeing all the wonders of her world. She went home and spent lots of time with her family, introducing them to her boyfriend, who they came to love as a family member. Then, one day, they went to the park where he had first seen her, for a picnic. She asked him to marry her, explaining that she had wanted to see her world first as a typical human traveler, before leaving it. She had planned on saying yes since he had asked the first time. There was no other man in any world for her, but him. He didn't refuse. They married a month later in a simple ceremony above ground, and underground, the wedding was one fit for a King and Queen to be. Her family was there, in awe of the fact that the man they met as Sarah's boyfriend was, in fact, a fairy tale king, and that Sarah was becoming a queen. Sarah and Jareth never looked back. Until this night, when they both let all the memories of the past 30 years play in their minds as they danced together. All the joys, all the tears, the births of their children that had made them a family. The large clock chimed as the music ended. "It's 13 o'clock, my queen," Jareth observed, as the music faded away and they left the dance floor. Sarah smiled at him. "So it is," she said, yawning loudly. "I am tired. Maybe we should say good night to our guests and retire to our bedchamber? The children went to bed hours ago." She winked at him. A thrill went through him. "Oh, yes. Lovely idea. We really should get a good night's rest. After all, the next 30 years promise to be quite busy. The guests can let themselves out." The Goblin King wrapped an arm around his Champion, and the two disappeared to continue celebrating their anniversary in a more private setting. In the alcove nearby, the scribes continued to write, taking note of everything. They wrote so the adventures of their Goblin King and Queen were always remembered. That was their job, after all.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: movies 300 Battle of Sparta: Rise of the Undead Pt 2 Chapter 1: Battle of Sparta: Rise of the Undead Pt 2 Chapter Two: Training Grounds It was now morning. Light shone into Rhamnales' room, bathing it in a wondrous golden sheen. There was only one issue: there was blood on the ground, giving it that too-good-to-be-true aroma. That was under control, as Reiliana was cleaning it up. Reiliana was the maid in the house of Sparta, and arguably the most beautiful Spartan woman alive. She was kind, giving, and, most of all, caring. She had blonde hair that flew through the wind. Rhamnales woke up to see her cleaning. "What are you doing, Reiliana? This is not the job of a woman," he said. "It's okay, Lord Rhamnales, it is my job to make your job as simple as possible," she replied. "Well, that is about to change. You have always said you would like to be a general, yet I have no idea if you can even fight in the army. Well, to be a general, you must beat me in a fight," Rhamnales said with a smile. Reiliana smiled back. "It is true, I have always wished to be a soldier. But do you want to embarrass yourself in front of the entire army? That is the question you must answer." Rhamnales just laughed. "Well, time to prove your strength. Go to the training arena and wait for me. I will be there soon." While Reiliana left the room, Rhamnales simply waved his hand, and the blood was gone. He walked towards his armoury cupboard and opened it. His armour was a beauty to behold, just like his blade, which shone with the same golden light. He strapped on his armour and then bolted towards the training grounds. The training grounds were bustling with life. Men and women watched as people battled out their hearts, seeing who was the strongest. But when Rhamnales walked onto the grounds, everyone knew it had to be good. He walked quickly to the centre of the grounds and yelled, "Reiliana is battling me for the rights of General. No rules whatsoever. Where is she?" A general ran out to meet him. "Lord Rhams, you can't be serious. You can't expect a mere slave to take the rank of General. This is madness," he said. "No, General, this is Sparta," Rhamnales replied. "Right here, Sire," announced a woman in black armour, who held a blade that looked plain, besides the fact that it had the Roman crest on its sheath. Rhamnales stood calmly at the centre as she approached. She bowed and then moved back. Rhamnales took a few steps back and waited for the first move. Neither moved. It was a battle to see who could get the better edge, but no one made a move to get it. It took but a second for Reiliana to raise her hand and send a flood of sand at her foe. Rhamnales easily flicked it aside with his own magic. She was already running with her sword unsheathed. She jumped into the air and bashed her blade, only to hit Rhamnales' shield. The blow made him stagger, but she did not hesitate. Her sword was a weapon to be afraid of. Rhamnales blocked all of her blows with blunt amusement. Rhamnales started to push her back. He executed some of the most advanced moves to be learned by a warrior. He flipped his blade between his fingers and slammed it against her shield. She was tired, and Rhamnales knew it. It was only a matter of time before she gave up. Or that was what Rhamnales thought. Reiliana took off her helmet, revealing an unchanged expression, but she was not finished. She back-flipped out of the way, while creating a storm of dirt to block his sight. Rhamnales tried his best to block the dirt from his eyes, but could not. Reiliana was not finished. She pushed the dirt and blasted it towards Rhamnales. He blocked the blast, only to see Reiliana already charging at him. Her blade scratched the ground as she charged. His blade had been pulled from his hand when the blast hit him, so he kneeled down and bowed. Reiliana stopped her rampage, signaling the end of the battle, with Reiliana as the victor. Applause ran through the crowd, and many could not believe their eyes. Reiliana helped Rhamnales up and brought him to the centre. "Sire, are you alright? I did not harm you, did I?" asked Reiliana, in a concerned voice. Rhamnales smiled. "It would take more than that to make me end a fight, but this fight would have lasted for hours if not longer." Rhamnales stood, towering over her, but she could still be a formidable foe, and Rhamnales knew the other generals would not bother her. And if they did, he would kick their ass, if she didn't kick theirs first. Sweat lined both of their brows. It was a battle to remember, and Rhamnales did not forget. "Go, ask Vince the Cook to give you the female General's armour. It's in the treasury. Tell him I gave you those orders; he'll know what I meant," he said. Reiliana smiled and gave Rhamnales a kiss on the cheek. "Will do, Sire." "Wait, now that you are General, you can call me Rhams," he yelled after her. She smiled and nodded and ran off to the kitchens. He watched her run off, only to see Xaviar sitting to the side, watching him. "You fancy her, Rhams, don't hide it. You always have," Xaviar laughed. "Why wouldn't I? She is beautiful, smart, strong, and could possibly kick your ass, if not both of ours at the same time," Rhamnales replied.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 310-series I Wanna Be Your First *Chapter 1: I Wanna Be Your First* Jacob looked down at his boyfriend, who was lying on his lap, watching a movie. "Ah!" Justin screamed, hiding his face in Jacob's lap. "Are you okay?" Jacob asked with a smirk. "Fucking zombies! They scare the hell out of me!" Jacob smiled at Justin's cute accent and gently kissed his forehead. "It's okay, baby, it's just a movie." Justin looked up at him with watery and large eyes. Jacob got up and took out the movie. "We can watch something else?" Justin sighed and sat up. "I'm sorry I'm such a crybaby," he said with a pout. "No, babe, it's okay," Jacob smiled and sat next to Justin, pulling him into a hug. "I love that about you," he said before capturing Justin's lips with his own, feeling Justin smile into the kiss. Jacob ran his tongue over Justin's bottom lip, asking for entrance. Justin gladly allowed him, parting his lips slightly. Jacob massaged Justin's tongue with his own, exploring the wet cavern. "Nnhh~" Justin moaned into the kiss. Jacob gently bit down on his boyfriend's bottom lip, making Justin arch upwards. "Jacob..." he quietly moaned. "Yes, love?" "I want you to be my first," he said ever so shyly. "Are you sure?" Jacob asked with excitement and worry. "Positive," Justin replied. Jacob smiled and picked Justin up in a bridal style. "Well, I'm not going to let your first time be sloppy and on a sofa." Justin smiled at this. Jacob carried him to the bedroom and gently sat him down on the bed. "I'm going to make this as pleasurable and painless as possible," Jacob smiled and ran his tongue down Justin's jawline and neck. "Ahh~" Justin half-moaned. "W-wait, there will be pain?" he asked, his voice shaky. "Yes..." Jacob answered truthfully. "But if I prepare you enough and get you relaxed, it won't hurt as much." Justin smiled. "Okay," he said. Jacob slid off Justin's shirt and began to leave butterfly kisses down his chest. Justin bit his lip. Jacob got to the hem of his pants and unzipped them. "This will feel good, I promise," he said. Justin got butterflies in his stomach and nodded his head. Jacob pulled his pants down and saw that his boyfriend was already erect. "Mmh, just my kisses have you hard?" Justin blushed and covered his face with his arms. "D-don't look!" Jacob moved up and removed Justin's arms. "I like the view," he said huskily before moving back down and beginning to rub Justin's length through his boxers. "Ahh!" Justin moaned out. Jacob smiled and removed the annoying piece of fabric and licked up Justin's dick. Justin's breath became hitched as he watched his boyfriend's moves. Jacob sucked on the head of his boyfriend's cock. "Nngh, Jacob~" Justin moaned. Jacob looked up and smirked. "S-stop teasing..." "Okay, babe," he said. He took the whole length and began to bob up and down, scraping his teeth along the sides. "Ooohh~" Justin gasped. Jacob swirled his tongue around and deep-throated him. "Oh god! J-jacob, I'm g-gonna cum." Jacob looked up and raised an eyebrow before giving the head one last hard suck. Justin's eyes closed as he screamed out and arched his back while he came. Jacob swallowed as much as he could and kissed his boyfriend. "Don't fall asleep yet, we're not done." He got up and grabbed a small bottle of lube and lubed his three fingers. "This might be slightly uncomfortable," he warned. Justin gave a small nod. Jacob wiggled one finger into Justin's ass, and Justin moved around, trying to get used to the feeling. Jacob moved his finger in and out before adding another. "Ah!" Justin cried out. "Are you hurt?" Jacob asked. "N-no... D-do that again," Justin replied. Jacob smirked as he figured out he had hit his boyfriend's prostate and aimed for that spot again. "Yes!" Justin moaned, not realizing another finger had been added. "I think you're ready," Jacob said. Justin nodded. "Hurry," he said. Jacob smiled and removed his own pants and boxers and lubed up his cock. "Ready?" Justin nodded. He slowly slid into Justin, waiting for him to adjust. "I-it hurts," Justin whined. "I know, baby, I know. It will get better if you relax," Jacob said. Justin tried to relax, and after about a minute, he nodded as a signal for Jacob to move. He started off slow, moving in and out carefully. "Go f-faster!" Justin cried out. Jacob grinned as he began to thrust in and out at a pace, his thrusts moving with Justin's hips. "Oh yes! Harder!" Jacob had never seen this side of his sweet boyfriend, but he obeyed his wishes and thrust harder, hitting Justin's prostate with force. Justin arched off the bed at a backbreaking angle. "A-again, do it again..." Jacob continued to abuse his prostate, and Justin felt a warm coiling feeling in his stomach. "J-Jacob, I'm close..." he warned. "Me too," Jacob said, still thrusting. He hit Justin's prostate one last time before Justin arched up and came all over their chests. Feeling Justin clench around him, Jacob got in a couple more thrusts before coming deep in his boyfriend. He collapsed on top of him, trying not to crush him, and slid out. "Justin?" "Hmm?" "I think we need a shower," Jacob said. Justin smiled and replied, "I think we do too. But it's your turn." He got up and dragged his boyfriend into the bathroom. So, Justin's on top next, yeah? Justin: I'd enjoy that. No, you're too feminine to be a top. Throughout your whole life, you will be fucked - wink, wink. Justin: I'm gonna fucking kill you -.- BYE, GUYS! LEAVE REVIEWS
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 310-series Surprizing Love Chapter 1: Surprizing Love Bray looked up from where he was lying. He had been having a good dream. Bray had been dreaming that he was back at the mall with his friends. Also, that he was with someone, strangely enough, the person he was with hadn't been Amber. It had been someone else, someone that he just didn't know. Bray couldn't tell if the person he was with was female or not. The only thing Bray knew for sure was that the person surely was not Amber. Bray sighed. A few seconds later, he heard the bars on his cell being rattled. "Get up now, because you aren't going to be eating later on!" A loud, harsh voice called out. Bray sat up, as someone new, someone he had never seen before, walked into his cell carrying a tray of food that smelled rotten. Bray stared at the guy for a minute. The guy was his height, but had blonde hair and a capital T on his forehead. But there was something strangely familiar about the guy, Bray thought, as he silently accepted the horribly smelling tray of food. The guy looked at Bray for a minute. Then he decided to speak. "My name is Jay. Yes, I'm a Techno, but I won't hurt you." Bray looked at Jay. "I know you won't." The strange thing was that Bray already knew that Jay wouldn't hurt him. Jay looked at Bray. "What's your name, and what tribe are you from?" "I'm Bray, and I'm from the Mallrats," Bray replied. "Do you know Cloe?" Bray nodded. "She's one of the youngest in our tribe." "How do you know her? Is she here in one of the other cells?" Bray asked quickly. Jay shook his head no. "I know her because she's my little brother Ved's girlfriend," Jay explained. He fell silent as a look of disbelief crossed Bray's face. "Are you serious?" "Yes, I think they really care for each other," Jay said, as he crossed the cell to where he could see Bray better. Bray stared at Jay for a few moments. Then, he motioned for the blonde Techno to have a seat. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Bray asked. Jay smiled. "I try to be nice to all the prisoners. I don't want to be like Ram or Mega." "I know how you feel," Bray said. "Before my brother Martin became Zoot, he was kind. You probably referred to him as Zoot. He caused so much chaos. I mean, everyone was either with him or against him. Kids are still afraid to utter the name Zoot, for fear that he might rise from the dead. To me, he will always be Martin." Jay stared at him. "Zoot was your brother?" "Yeah," Bray replied. "Listen, Jay, Martin wasn't as cruel as he wanted everyone to think. I mean, to me, he was still just little old Marty. Marty was pretty harmless," Bray said. Jay laughed. "Zoot and Marty are hardly even the same person, Bray." "I know, and I'm the reason why Marty became Zoot. It's my fault Marty turned out the way he did. I ignored him when we were growing up. I would ditch him because he was a geek. Since Martin wasn't cool, then he wasn't allowed to hang out with or even be around me and my friends, even at school." He looked at Jay. "There is so much that I just wish I could take back," Bray said, as he looked down at the ground. "Jay, take good care of your brother. You never know how or when he might die," Bray said. Jay nodded. "I will look after him. Ved is all the family I have left," Jay said. Bray didn't say anything. He just looked away from Jay, lost in his memories from the past. Jay sighed. A few moments later, Bray got up and walked over to Jay. "Would you be weirded out if I were to kiss you?" "I want you to kiss me," Jay replied. "If I do this, then there's no going back, no erasing this," Bray said, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Jay nodded. "I want this too," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Jay leaned in. When his lips met Bray's, everything seemed to just fall away. It was as if they were the only two people left in the whole world. To them, there was just the here and now. Ten minutes later, they pulled away from each other reluctantly. "Where does this leave us?" Bray asked, looking at Jay. Bray shrugged. "You tell me. You can leave here. I can't," Bray said. Jay nodded, keeping silent as he thought. "But what if you could leave? Then what would happen?" Jay asked, looking at the ground. Bray looked at Jay, confused. "How would I?" he asked, looking at Jay in disbelief. Jay pulled some keys out of his pocket and showed them to Bray. "I'll make it seem as if you escaped," Jay said softly. As Bray got up to leave, he turned back to Jay. "Come with me. We can leave together," Bray said, watching for Jay's reaction. Jay nodded a moment later. Then he unlocked the cell. Jay smiled happily at Bray. "Let's get out of here," he said. Bray looked at Jay, smiling. "This really is a surprising love." Bray woke up from the strange dream and ended up waking Amber as he shifted his weight on the bed. "Bray, is everything okay?" "Yeah, Amber, everything's fine. But I just had the strangest dream." "Tell me about it, baby." "Well, it's hard to explain, really." "Start from the beginning," Amber said. Bray told Amber about the dream, and it got them both laughing. "Okay, no more eating before you go to bed, Bray. Just last week, you had a dream about flying monkeys that ate us. What's next? Godzilla eating Frankenstein?" "Now that would be entertaining," Bray replied. They laughed again and then went back to bed, curled in each other's arms.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 32c-That-s-Me Forgive and Forget Chapter 1: Forgive and Forget Forgive and forget. Hello! This is my first ever fan fiction, so please review! P.S: This takes place after Ron returns, in the tent. Hermione Granger glanced at him once more, hoping he didn't see. Of course, she was still mad at him - he had left her, for Merlin's sake! But that didn't mean she wasn't glad to have him back; she was happy he had returned. Hermione heard someone clear their throat, turning around, she saw it was Harry. He awkwardly sat down next to her and said, "Are you ever going to forgive him?" "No! Harry, he left us - he left me. He thought I'd choose you over him!" Something flicked in Harry's eyes; Hermione thought it was sympathy and anger. "What?" said Hermione, not sure what to do. "You should ask him," Harry replied. "Ask him what?" Hermione asked. Harry sighed, "Hermione, we lied. When Ron destroyed the Horcrux, it didn't die straight away. Do you know what happened?" "No," she replied, sounding slightly scared. "It showed him his worst fear. When I saw what it was, I felt too guilty and upset for making him think all that was possible." "What was it?" she said, this time sounding worried. "I'm afraid that's not my place to tell you," he looked at Ron, who was in the kitchen, oblivious to Harry and Hermione's conversation. "It's his place; you should ask him." He got up and went to his bed, "Night, Hermione," he whispered, "Night, Ron," he shouted so Ron could hear him. "Night," Ron shouted back. Without meaning to, Ron caught Hermione's eyes, and unable to see only anger and heartbreak in her eyes, he quickly turned his head and carried on making himself a sandwich. A few seconds later, Ron ended up cutting his finger by accident. As he gasped in pain, he heard Hermione get up from her seat and walk up to him. "Ron, what happened? Are you okay?" her worried voice asked him. She turned red at the sight of his bleeding finger. "Gosh, that looks painful, are you okay?" She looked him in the eyes. Ron's heart skipped a beat. "I'm fine," Ron replied. "Ron, let me help you," she held his hand in hers, feeling a thousand bolts running through her body; she quickly ignored this and washed his hand at the sink. "Is there a plaster here?" Ron whispered. She looked into his eyes again and said, "Yeah, it's around here somewhere. You go and sit down on the sofa, I'll find it." Wanting not to anger her or make her stop talking to him, Ron quickly obeyed and went to sit down on the sofa. A couple of seconds later, Hermione came and put the plaster around his finger. Now's your chance, Ron thought to himself, just do it! Explain everything! "Hermione," Ron whispered. She looked up but didn't say anything. "I'm sorry I left." As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Tears formed in her eyes as she turned the other way, silently crying. "Hermione," he whispered; he touched her shoulder, only to have her push his hand away. "Hermione, I'm so sorry I left. I'm so sorry." "Why did you leave me?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking. Ron was shocked; he honestly didn't know the answer to this. All he knew was that the Horcrux was affecting him badly. "I don't know, Hermione. I honestly don't. But I'm so sorry; please forgive me!" She turned around to face him, and asked, "What did you see?" "What do you mean?" Ron asked, confused. "The Horcrux. Harry told me he said you saw your worst fear. What is it? What did you see?" Ron sat up, completely shocked, and said, "I'm tired - can we sleep?" Just as he was walking away, Hermione pulled his hand and made him sit down again. "No, Ron. Please don't do this; tell me everything! Don't run and hide!" Ron sighed. He was tired, and he knew if he argued, she'd be mad at him, and they wouldn't talk, or they'd stay up all night fighting, and they couldn't sleep. "Fine," he tried to make himself comfortable. "I saw you and Harry kissing, and you were telling me how useless I was," he closed his eyes, "and you said I'd never amount to Harry, and that you'd never love me." "Ron," Hermione whispered, and Ron opened his eyes to find Hermione's teary face inches away from his. "Ron, you idiot! I would never say any of those things to you! I would never choose Harry over you! I love you, Ron, and only you!" With that said, Hermione kissed Ron full on the mouth. She put her hands around his neck, and Ron pulled Hermione closer to him. When they broke apart, Ron said, "God, I love you so much!" Blushing slightly, Hermione held Ron's hand, and they walked over to his bed. When they both got in, they simply carried on kissing. With each kiss, they felt a thousand bolts running through their bodies. What they didn't know about that night, what they would never know, was that, whilst they were talking, their best friend Harry Potter hadn't slept a wink. No, he listened to them talk, hoping they'd make up, hoping Ron would say the right things, hoping Hermione would forgive him. When he heard them climb into Ron's bed, Harry smiled for what felt like the first time in years and drifted off to sleep, knowing that, while the war was going on, while people were dying, he was happy that two people who had loved each other for so long had finally found each other, and they were sleeping safely in each other's arms.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: harry_potter Chapter 1 This would be, without a doubt, the most disgusting thing he had ever had to do. And he didn't just mean the polyjuice potion. Being Ron Weasley, even if only in appearance, was utterly distasteful. And not just for one hour, but for days? Until they found the threat to his life? The worst part was that Weasley was living with Granger, which meant he would have to live with her as well. If Draco had thought this was some kind of torture or revenge play by the Golden Trio, the fact that Granger would never willingly share a bed with him would have ruled it out. Granger would never make eye contact with him, let alone speak to him. Draco had spent three months free after the trial before the attempt on his life. Luckily, it was caught by a guard who died in his stead. Then, Team Potter was given the case, and he was ordered to take polyjuice potions of Weasley whenever he left the apartments. With a fair amount of swearing from the ginger-haired man, the two men and the Minister agreed, despite Draco's disagreement, that he would swallow the polyjuice and go straight to Weasley's and Granger's flat. The two former classmates immediately deployed to find the person responsible for the threat on Draco's life. He found the place easily enough and was trying to fix a cup of tea when Granger came home. He went to stand, offering an apathetic greeting of "honey, I'm home," followed by a smirk. But she was already talking nonstop as soon as she stepped through the door, raving madly about something from her job that day, a breakthrough in her potions lab. He watched her bustle around the kitchen, quickly grabbing them each a teacup and letting it brew before she came over to give him a sweeping kiss. "Interesting," he said slowly, commenting on the fact that she wasn't aware he was not actually her partner. He cast his eyes at the clock; another 35 minutes before he changed back, and she would scream bloody murder. The excitement of tormenting her pricked at his skin. She sat with a huffed laugh, her eyes distant as she continued on, barely stopping for breath. He raised an eyebrow but dropped it immediately when the motion made her pause for a split second. Instead, he rose and gathered the tea, adding his preferred splash of cream with one sugar to hers and sliding it onto the table. He sipped his tea silently, leaning against the counter and crossing his feet at the ankles as she seemed to finish off her excited rendition of her day. "So," she exhaled, "that means I have all the time in the world for you now." A cheeky grin flitted across her face. He smiled into his teacup. "Does it now?" Before he had even blinked, she had stood and cornered him, sliding her hands up his chest to the back of his neck, pressing soft kisses onto his mouth. Draco's brain stuttered. That discussion changed quickly. He was opening his mouth to say something, but it snapped shut when Granger dropped to her knees and pulled at his belt buckle. "I like this trouser cut on you," she marveled quietly before she had dropped both his trousers and pants to his ankles and grasped his cock. "Fucking hell," he mimicked the redhead without even trying, as she pumped him quickly and expertly. He dropped the teacup to the counter behind him and clenched his jaw, staring at the clock on the wall. He tried everything in his power to not look down at Weasley's dick, a decision he made when he swallowed the polyjuice. But when he felt her mouth on him, his eyes rocketed down to meet hers. There was a lusty heat he had never seen on her before that sliced through his skull, leaving not a single thought but "Oh fuck" on repeat. He bit into his fist and found just barely enough voice to say, "Granger..." He had to, before this got much further. Why the fuck was she not made aware of this arrangement? There was an obvious slowdown as she looked up at him, her lips sliding off his cock, and she licked them. "You don't like playing that..." her voice trailed off, and he saw the gears flying in her head. It was literally three seconds before she wrapped her lips back around and slid him deeply into her mouth and back out, excitedly. "I do deserve a treat, don't I," she brushed her plump lips over his head before drawing out the name. "Malfoy." His eyes flew to the ceiling, and he gripped the countertop so hard his knuckles went white. "Ffffuck... Granger, I-" but she went back to it. His brain churned to keep focus; he had 30 minutes before this little game she and her boyfriend played became way too realistic. The sounds, the feel of her gods damn throat swallowing him, the fact he could see her touching herself, it was way too much. Fine, he thought, she wants Malfoy, she's got him. He wound his hands into her hair and gripped tightly, making her moan around him. He jutted his hips forward, making her gag before pulling her off him and up to his chest, kissing her hotly. His tongue barely tasted her as it ran over her lips, and he kicked his trousers and shoes loose from his feet. She gasped delicately when he pulled her legs up around his waist, bunching her skirt to her hips, and stumbled over to the door he suspected was the bedroom. She thudded against it while he let his hand fumble between them to pull at her knickers. The fact that they were already pulled to the side and she was completely slick dragged a growl from his chest. The bed could wait. "Gods, Granger... Already?" She pressed whimpered kisses into his neck and jawline, pulling at his shirt buttons, and his other hand gripped her arse tighter, grinding into her, skin on skin. He eyed the clock again; 27 minutes. He could blow her mind in 27 minutes, easily. Sod what would happen after. "What do you want?" He whispered into her ear, and he felt himself throb when she hissed back at him. "Fuck me, Malfoy... Please..." His nails dug into her thighs as he pressed inside her, his hips snapping with a force he hadn't felt since he was a teenager. He groaned deep in his chest at the sounds she was making with every push, her desperate cunt clenched around him. Fuck, is this why Weasley was a blood traitor? Because he understood now. Merlin, he would sell his entire vault piece by piece to fuck like this every night. She was clawing at his shoulders, unraveling, and he latched his mouth onto her neck, pressing her harder against the door, so his hand could rip through the buttons on her shirt and shove itself under her bra. Squeezing and pinching while he pounded into her, leaving a deep bruising love bite on her neck just in time for her to come undone while shouting out his surname. Once a sneering insult, now a prayer to his ears. "Don't stop," she gasped, still squeezing him tightly. "Oh gods, please come inside me..." "F-fuck," his hips stuttered, and he forced himself to slow down. "Not yet, you've got more in you, Granger..." He held still against her, desperate to drag this out, despite his cock screaming at him to keep moving. 20 minutes. He hissed against her lips, "You're not finished..." As he started a slow grind against her, he dropped his head to mouth her nipples one at a time, a moan vibrating through him as she arched up and trembled around his cock. He went slow now, tugging and nipping at her breasts, his hand between them, circling her clit in dangerously slow motions to match his careful thrusts. Gods, he could feel how sopping she was because she had slicked his cock so completely it was dripping down to his sack. He slid his tongue past her lips, and she moaned, hands threading through his hair. It took longer this time for her to finish, a slow and beautifully overpowering release. He bit his lip to hold onto himself as she trembled and gasped and rocked into him. Merlin, he would hold off as long as he could. Yet the second she began begging for him, he was a goner. "Please," she wet her lips, face flushed red, head heavily thudding against the door. "Please, fuck... fuck... Ooooh, your heir into me!" She rocked her hips, and his eyes glazed over, all control eviscerated completely. He did what any pureblood man would do when the beauty speared on his cock begged for him to finish; he lost it. He would lose everything for this 35 minutes to never stop. She kept going with her dirty little mouth when she noticed her breathy pleas were egging him on. "Malfoy, please cum inside me! Gods, ruin your bloodline! Oh, ruin me, fuck I don't care, Mal-"! He shut her up with a bruising kiss before grunting out to correct her. "Draco..." She whined, "Draco," and he swore and slammed into her so hard he saw stars, his fingers gripping her delicate throat. His balls drew up so tight that the back of his mind didn't even care if they never came back down until finally, he came harder than he ever had before, a guttural groan wracking his body. He had to let her thighs down to keep standing, his calves cramped, and vision blurred. But as he leaned against her chest, catching his breath, he saw his seed sliding down her legs. With his dick now soft, he had a moment of clarity. He had taken a polyjuice; he looked like Weasley, but did that mean he had little Weasley or Malfoy swimmers in his chamber? He leaned down and dragged the mess back up her legs with his long fingers, pushing it back inside her swollen cunt, and she trembled against them. They made deep stroking motions to try and push his mess deeper. "Ron, what are you-" "Tell me something..." He grazed his fingers past her slick lips, over her arsehole, and up between her arse cheeks, splaying his large hand along her spine and pressing his forearm flush to her cunt, keeping everything pressed inside her and holding her just off the floor. "Does a polyjuice potion affect semen?" She rolled her head downward to look at him, still breathing hard, grinding slightly down onto his muscled forearm. "Why?" He summoned his wand and pointed it at her stomach, casting the contraception charm. He could hear his own voice coming back through Ron's. Her eyes snapped to his, and her hand snatched his wrist, pulling it back. "This isn't Ron's wand..." She whispered, terror creeping through her voice. He saw her swallow hard. He smirked now, leaning upward to kiss her, but she jerked her head away. He chuckled darkly, leaving kisses between and under her breasts instead. "You're pretty little cunt is pressed against my dark mark, Granger... I'll bet you didn't think that would ever happen..." He pushed her shoulders back into the door and, in one breath, had her wrists bound and her voice silenced with his modified 'Silencio'. "Of course, I never imagined you had your boyfriend roleplay as me, either..." She screamed, or at least he thinks she did; her face was red, and her eyes were furious. He didn't even try to ignore how arousing it was to see her face filled with fury while her wrists were bound and snapped over her head. He tossed his wand back onto the kitchen counter. "Your man didn't tell you I'd be staying here... That I'd be pretending to be him until they catch whoever tried to kill me..." He lifted her off the floor, feeling his body return to him. "Now, I'm still quite curious if I did just pump my heir into you... I couldn't, really, of course, but I'd like to find out..." She ground down on his forearm again with the pressure, and her eyes fluttered at his words before she refocused back to glaring. "Gods, I did not think it would be so hot to watch you grinding your dirty pussy onto my mark, but..." He sucked his teeth and winked at her, "here we are..." He heard her now; she hissed through a tense jaw, "Put... Me... Down..." He used this spell more than any other in the bedroom; it kept the screamers quiet, but who could fault him; he loved those tiny little noises women made. His lips curled up into a predatory grin. "No..." He wrapped his arm around her waist, the arm between her legs grasping it to steady her, and lifted her off the door. "I'm not finished ruining you, as requested..." He pulled the knob, and the door swung open. He set her at the end of their bed, slipping his fingers back inside her, and groaning when she still clenched around him. "You can't help yourself... You want me so bad, don't you?" He reached back and unclasped her bra, "You're a dirty little slut..." He pressed his forehead against hers as he slid her top and bra up her arms, bunching her skirt up her hips, and he tried to pull her whole breast into his eager mouth, flicking his tongue over her bud. He pushed until she fell back to the bed, her face scrunched up, and her lip between her teeth. He claimed her lips, his fingers working slowly inside her, coating two of his fingers in both of them. "It's a shame I can't hear you scream my name again, but my charm will let you speak softly... So please," he relished her whimper when he slid his fingers out and shoved them against her tongue. "Tell me just how much you enjoy fucking your Slytherin Bad boy..." His eyes darkened again when she sucked as eagerly as she had sucked his cock. "Does it taste like your Weasel?" She whimpered, shaking her head back and forth, and pushed her hips up against nothing. "Circe, you're a fucking animal, Granger..." He dropped kisses down her chest, his tongue dipped into her navel, and she squirmed. He grabbed her hips and felt a shuddering breath forced from his chest when he was face to face with her center. She smelled so heady, like earth and dirty sex. She was still glistening, and he dragged his tongue down her, delving into her, and moaning when he finally confirmed for himself that their mingled cum was intoxicating. He felt his hard-on press into the mattress, his turn-around rate faster than when he was younger. Fuck, why did he not fuck Granger when they were in school? Especially if she'd been harboring this desperate slut for him, specifically? They could've shagged in the library every night! He ravished her cunt, focusing on her clit until she was wildly bucking into his mouth. Her soft moan that grew louder and then into silence stroked his ego. She was pure velvet under his ministrations, her thighs quaking against his face, and her body squirming against the ropes. He kissed and gently sucked her clit down from her high while she whispered what he imagined was praise. He lifted his eyes to meet hers in time for the binding to break, and her hands were free. He should have known; this witch used her small voice, repeating "finite incantatem" over and over to cancel his spell. Her hands drove down into his hair, pulling so hard he winced, and he followed her up her body, dragging his tongue and dripping kisses the whole way up. "Well, if you're going to kill me, I've no regrets anymore," he said. "Make it quick." He met her eyes, thoroughly expecting eating her out to be the very last thing before she murdered him. Part of his brain was perfectly content with it, but instead, she harshly whispered, "You better fuck me like your life depends on it, because it does." Her eyes smoldered into his as she captured his lips, and he sank back into her with a groan.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: anime Chapter 1 "You have nothing to read," Grimsley muttered, dragging his finger slowly along a row of spines, his eyes following and failing to find anything he wanted to read. "Of course I do," Shauntal said, not turning to face him. "I use bookcases like wallpaper. You're just too picky." She lay prone on her bed, fingers clacking away at the keys on her laptop, making letters appear on the blank canvas of her word processor. They came together to form words, which she mouthed and occasionally said low under her breath. Erika always seemed so demure and gentle, acting as a lady should and always keeping herself composed. Janine thought it was that factor, along with the potential hope that how proper she was would rub off on her, that led to her father giving Erika his blessing to take her out on a date. That politesse had vanished, though, on Erika's floor. It surprised Janine how forward she was, how eagerly the fingers ran up her toned stomach, how Erika's lips attacked her jawline hungrily. It was a total shock to experience, and it only furthered Janine's confusion about the entire matter. "Most of these books are trash, and you know it," he said. He'd come over earlier than expected, finding Shauntal still hammering away at her latest story, and tried to find ways to occupy himself until their dinner reservations. He knew very few things would tear her away from her writing, and chief among them would probably make them late for dinner if they got carried away with it. They always got carried away with that. He turned back to face her and heavily considered it for a moment, though. It was something to do, and it would likely get her to write much faster if he simply engaged in some light teasing. Then, his finger found air, and his eyes snapped toward the shelf again in surprise. Below his finger, which had been positioned fairly high, was a squat, thick book that lay shorter than a usual paperback. It was red, bearing the title "365 Tips SEX", with the last word taking up more than half of the spine. Pulling it out with eager curiosity, he found the proper title to be "365 Sex Tips". A smile crept over his face. An amused, cruel smile that slowly turned toward the girl lying on the bed. "Shauntal, darling," he asked in a deep tone, one that immediately alarmed her. It was his mocking voice. "Why do you have this book in your library?" Turning to face him, Shauntal's face flashed briefly with surprise, but she quickly hid it. After all, Grimsley used everything as a weapon, and if she played it off as nothing, he might well put it back and move on. "I don't know," she said. "Remember that used book store that went out of business, that I bought the leftover stock from? Probably one of the books I got from there." "Perhaps," he said, leaning against the wall and opening it. "Or, it was a secret purchase by a sheepish young virgin who, despite not knowing the first thing about sex, wanted to write about it. But she was fourteen, shy, and nerdy. Even if she were stupid enough to throw away her virginity just for the sake of research, none of the boys she liked even knew about it. So she read up on it at the library, but all of those were biology textbooks, which aside from a little anatomical knowledge, did nothing for her. They were too scientific and emotionless, and she needed to understand the raw passion involved. It was risky, but she bought it instead. Took some of her allowance and grabbed a book off the shelf. A couple random pages, and it seemed to paint a decent picture about passion and all those intangibles that got her breathing heavy when she thought about them. So she bought it, took it home, used it for a few years. And now, a fully-grown adult with plenty of notches in her bedpost, a steady boyfriend, and a few regular flings on the side feels ashamed of her need for reference material, and tries to shrug it off in ignorance." Shauntal looked back at the laptop, and in frustration switched to another of the five documents she had open of in-progress stories. "That's pretty good," she said as she scanned the last few paragraphs to get a handle on where she was going with it again, hoping to focus on it and keep her face from going bright red. He was amiss on a few details, but had nailed the general idea so horrifyingly well that she tried to remember if she had drunkenly told him the story before. "Maybe you should try writing, too." "Oh, certainly not," he said. "I rather like being able to walk down the street and seeing a couple on a date without getting 'that look' on my face." He opened the book and smirked. Speaking loudly, he read off the first page, "Try to discover which music brings you the most pleasure," before returning to his sardonic tone. "Darling, I think our sex life will only be fully realized if we can make love to the Monster Mash." Taking a deep breath, Shauntal tried to ignore him. She was going to finish something that afternoon, she'd promised herself, and even Grimsley being an extra large git would not shake her. She was stronger-willed than him, so long as he kept his fingers to himself, and maybe if she fought him off this time, he'd give up for a day or two and she could focus. It wasn't likely, but getting huffy would do nothing to help matters. Skyla's fluttering kisses along his inner thighs made Black squirm. Any doubts her insecurities had brought up about him not thinking her good enough were shattered right there, because he was loving it. His head kept rolling back as a moan spilled upward from his lips, only to return to place as quickly as possible so that he could watch her continue. Between her kisses and the bizarre feeling of her gloved fingertips toying with his base and sensitive underside, Black was moaning rather loudly. Just the boost of confidence she needed to seal the deal. "I guess I know what you like?" she said in a voice that attempted to be sultry, but didn't do nearly as good a job as she'd wanted to. She sounded too inexperienced, and even though she wasn't, she worried she wouldn't get to fully enjoy the night with the brunette from Nuvema if nerves got the better of her. "Would you like to see them?" This time, it was a little better, a little more confident, but still not enough. Black nodded slowly, squeezing them in silent anticipation. He'd hardly said a word all night, and how his lips were too busy with her neck to be troubled to speak. As she reached back to undo her top, his hands drifted down to her plump ass, giving that a squeeze instead. He'd want to see that too, in time, but for the moment the redheaded gym leader's exposed breasts would give his eyes a treat. "Number nineteen: 'Make sure you have ventilation in your bedroom so you can breathe freely and deeply.'" He moved off the wall and a little closer to her, where he'd be able to better gauge her frustration. It would only be satisfying if he got a mental snapshot of her immediate response, not the filtered one she gave him when finally composed enough to speak or turn her head. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him coming close, and cursed under her breath. "Maybe you could go back to your apartment and clean up before our date, instead of sitting here bothering me?" Her eyes returned to the screen and didn't move away. "I've already cleaned up." "You could try new hair styles, then. Perhaps I could go a single date without looking like I'm dining with Glen Danzig." Rolling his eyes, he turned the page. "Number twenty: 'Arrange a rendezvous in a cafe with your partner and pretend you are only just getting to know each other. This can turn into an exciting flirtation and help liberate you from constricting habits.'" "I wish we could pretend we didn't know each other," she muttered. "Then you might just feel awkward and decent enough to get out of a stranger's apartment and stop reading me bad sex tips." "It would be no less awkward than how we hooked up in the first place." He settled into the chair near her bed, which she couldn't remember the reason for, but it had been there for weeks so the cause had been lost to time. Little details like that never survived long in her head, not when there were always so many ideas and phrases she could use. Continuing to thumb through the book, eyes skimming for a particularly bad one, he raised his legs so they rested on the bed, his bare feet occasionally tapping her side as he moved them about. Few things were as oddly uncomfortable as a toe pressed between ribs. Skyla's fluttering kisses along his inner thighs made Black squirm. Any doubts her insecurities had brought up about him not thinking her good enough were shattered right there, because he was loving it. His head kept rolling back as a moan spilled upward from his lips, only to return to place as quickly as possible so that he could watch her continue. Between her kisses and the bizarre feeling of her gloved fingertips toying with his base and sensitive underside, Black was moaning rather loudly. Just the boost of confidence she needed to seal the deal. "I bet I know what you've been waiting for," she said, voice now in full sly mode. Her finger dragged up his shaft to his tip, then circled around it and pressed just enough to make him feel it. "It's what all the boys who I bring upstairs want. But I only save it for the special ones..." She reached down to her breasts, grabbing them and pulling them up. Her posture changed and she smiled wide. "You beat me, though. I think that alone qualifies you as 'special'." "Ooh, number thirty-five is a recipe for Waldorf salad. They couldn't even come up with forty proper sex tips, and we still have three hundred and thirty to go. But, we should try this some time. It claims to be an aphrodisiac." His voice was still heavy with sarcasm. His eyes stayed on her face, smile widening with each flash of frustration streaking across her face. She was cracking. "Fifty-four; hairy. 'Hair is one of the oldest aids to stimulation. Drag your hair over your partner's body. If you have long hair, leaning over your partner and lightly swinging it over your partner's skin can be very erotic.'" Once Skyla is done with the titfuck, you should have her do this to Black. You've been so dreadfully stale lately, perhaps this new position would-- That was it for her. Everything up to that point was irritating, but she could handle it. Grimsley sometimes lapsed into a childlike need to drive her up the wall, but like a parent she had learned to combat it. His comment about her writing, though, about ever needing to consult that book for anything ever again, was something she could not abide. Reaching over for a thick hardcover by her bedside, she scowled at him. Tolstoy struck him in the side of the head, but she hadn't managed to knock that shit-eating grin off his face. Grimsley continued as if a massive brick of a book hadn't hit him. "'Fill your partner's navel with champagne and allow her or him to enjoy the prickling sensation for a while. Then use tongue and lips to try and reach the delicious liquid....'" He tilted his head a little at that one, scratching his head with a very exaggerated motion. "Shall we--" "Die away from me," she groaned, burying her head in her hands. Her face was bright red now, because even if she knew he wasn't being insulting, his playful poking had conjured up plenty of embarrassment about having the book. "Faster," Black moaned, cupping the back of her head and running his fingers through her hair. His hips moved gently, meeting her each time. She held her breasts tight in his lap around his shaft, moving them up and down with a practiced rhythm that told him he had been far from the first to indulge this little fantasy. He didn't focus on how many times she'd done this before, though, preferring instead to soak in all the pleasure of her round, soft breasts rubbing up and down. Feeling playful, he reached down with his other hand and began to toy with her nipple. Though she'd kept a stern expression, feeling Black begin to grope and lightly pinch like that made her expression break for a moment. Few guys ever did more than lay back and let her get them off, so for him to start touching her very sensitive breasts like that was a welcome surprise. She moaned as well, leaning in to kiss his chest through the black t-shirt he wore, squeezing a little more eagerly at herself. Some nights she'd be able to get off from playing with them alone, and though it probably wouldn't be one of those nights, it excited her for what was to come. "'Buy two tickets for a concert, the movies, or theatre. If you see an interesting person at the entrance, approach her or him and explain that your friend had to cancel at the last minute, and offer them the 'extra' ticket.'" Grimsley laughed at that one, angling his foot so he could press his toe into her side a little harder. "I can hardly tell who this book is meant for. People with no understanding of romance, or date rapists." "You are a horrible human being and should be ashamed of yourself," she said. She slid her glasses up her nose and shifted over a little, out of the reach of his toes. She hit the save key shortcut and continued on, hoping that he would give up and she could be productive before dinner. It always killed her when a day off was squandered on attempts to write with nothing to show for them. "'Teasing someone shows you like him or her. A few flippant remarks, a witty can create an extremely exciting tension in a conversation....' See? I'm doing nothing wrong. I'm being flirty and enriching our sex life, according to this book, the clear authority on the matter." Closing the lid on her laptop, Shauntal shot up, a certain fire beneath her eyes that Grimsley had almost never seen. "You're running afoul of the rest of that tip. 'But be careful not to go too far. Don't get sarcastic, or your effort may backfire.'" And yes, okay, fine, I got it when I was a teenager so I could write things better, and of course thanks to my eidetic memory they're all still floating around there, which means ten years after I last read it I can finish entries my boyfriend half-reads to try and justify being an irritating twit to me while I'm trying to write. As she spoke, her voice picked up in both volume and speed, until she was unnecessarily loud and the words were coming out so fast that he had no chance of getting in a word against her. She only ever got so wrapped in the words coming out of her mouth when she was writing an especially hot scene, and to even get into that state usually required at least his fingers in her. "But what makes you so focused on the fact that at one point, I was a curious teenage girl and bought a book? It makes me wonder what your teenage years were, that you're so focused on this book. Did you have your Flock of Wingulls hairstyle when you were fifteen, too? Or maybe you sat alone because you had some ridiculous piece of headgear on to try and shrink the size of your giant head, which did absolutely nothing to mitigate your ego. You spent so long sitting around listening to Wheatus and brooding that you pissed away whole years, and what, does the fact that I wasn't cool either make you feel better about things? Because if you are such an embittered crone in your mid-twenties that you can't help but derive some sick pleasure from other people's embarrassing pasts, then you will never truly feel better about anything. Shauntal's face, by the end of it, was bright red. She was on her knees now, unfurled, and was in a very rare position of actually being a few inches higher than Grimsley. That terrified him, and made her fury even more intimidating. Neither seemed to know exactly what to do, but the heavy breathing of the red-faced Shauntal was all that either could hear. "This may sound strange, but I want to fuck you so badly right now," he said, the stunned expression giving way to a grin. Stammering, still shocked she'd even let fly like that, Shauntal just nodded slowly as her boyfriend got up off the chair, leaning into her and gently guiding her down to lie on the bed. His lips sought hers hungrily, with enough passion behind them that his mouth conformed to the kiss instead of remaining in its usual Cheshire grin. Shutting her eyes and letting him take her away, Shauntal grabbed at his jacket, not caring in that moment about their dinner date. He was not only quiet but also dancing his fingers along her thighs in the way that always made her twist and bend. His lips trailed over to her ear, and in her mind's eye, she could imagine his lips moving to the words in a way that made her press up against him. In a low, heavy voice, he crooned, "Whatever happened to my Transylvania Twist?" Shauntal could actually hear the sound of the mood shattering, and her face again went red with fury. Her leg jerked up, knee striking him in the groin, and she pushed him off of her. He rolled to the side, clutching in pain, and she resumed shouting, "Fuck this. Go back to your apartment, fix yourself up, and learn to fucking compose yourself." She grabbed her laptop and went off to the living room. "And remember to wear some socks this time!"
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues A Life of Lies Chapter 1: A Life of Lies "When did you stop believing?" Long, long ago, she wants to say, but her mouth can barely speak, and she is numb. There is nothing to feel but the emptiness, and the darkness that stretches out before her. "You were always so strong." No, she is not. She has been a coward to the end, wishing for the death that will be her means of escape. How is that strength, when she does not fight to survive? How is that courage, when she runs straight to its arms instead of away, like many sane people do? What a waste of life. "Rest in peace." Her peace is gone. Ahead is nothing but an endless amount of waiting for the rest, and watching all she has left behind. She was weak, succumbing to the first option available, though to them it is nothing but common murder. She alone knows the truth. "I...We...We will miss you." Sometimes she thinks she shouldn't have done it. Maybe it's a wish too late to fulfill, but she can't help it. She has thrown it away, and now she wants it back. It's not possible, she's walked too far, beyond and over the line that exists between what is right and what is wrong. All that matters is lost. "Goodbye." She has tried and she has failed. It doesn't make things better, nor does it make them worse, but her heart aches with the knowledge that she has brought this upon herself. Reasoning is flawed, rationality lasts for so short a time. This was done in a time of guilt, not in a time of sanity. Before she can think clearly, the deed is done. "You were a beautiful young woman, inside or out. May you find joy in your new life." The shattered remains of reality and the whole, perfect images of the unreal. She has always thought them interchangeable, but now she knows. She knows that no one can ever change what has been done. The broken are never truly healed; they are left in a state between the new and the old, collecting the waters of both sadness and joy. Waters passed from cup to cup, and when the rain comes, they overflow. "In the name of the father, the son..." So she watches, though she cannot really see. Already, their faces are blurred, their voices are indistinct, and everything is fading. Memories are slipping through her fingers despite how desperately she holds on to them. She has forgotten, she will forget, she is forgetting. Panic takes over, and confusion; it was not supposed to be this way. She should not have gone, she should have stayed, she should have fought this battle, and won. Just a little more time, another chance, and she would still be beside them – these people she is slowly losing hold of. She remembers. It hurts, it hurts... It is an explosion of flame within, burning through her body and fueled by her own awareness. Maybe this is her release, her chance to run. She is a coward, to the core, she is a coward. And she will die. Red, it's red... Her vision blurs, and her mind is unreliable. It tells her to die, die, let go, and she wants to obey it. Another flash – ugh – and a distant, incoherent scream – Let me go now... It's hot, oh so hot... Blood spurts, a release, and she feels herself go limp, and she knows it's hot, knows it's painful, knows it's real and not just a dream, because It's me... Goodbye... The earth swallows her up at last, and her mortal body is nothing but a shell. The true girl is standing amongst the crowd, following them with her eyes as they leave, until what is left are three young men, standing apart from each other, and an old woman who takes her hand, guiding her away. "Let's go, Katherine," the old woman says, the same old woman who saved her and is even now her anchor. But she doesn't turn, she watches the three young men, who read the newly engraved tombstone of the just buried. "I lied," one of them says, almost to himself. "I care for you more than you'll ever know." "I'm sorry," another whispers. "Good luck, Amy, good luck," the third says, watching the tombstone, and trying to forget the covered coffin that bears nothing but the badly burned body of their lost love, their sister, their friend. They walk away, separate, but as if joined by that girl who now lies deep beneath the dirt. Because there is no Katherine, there has never been. There is only her, the girl once known as Amy Cahill, without a past and without a future, only the present that holds nothing but a life of lies. "Long, long ago," she says, and she sees the smile on his face, that he will never understand. "But now you make me believe." "I love you, Katherine," he whispers into her ear and holds her close to him. "I lied. I care for you more than you'll ever know." So she kisses his cheek, without regret, but with always the sense of sadness at her deceiving him: "I love you, too, Ian." And her body betrays her, convulsing and turning in on itself, rebelling against her attacker. Her fingers search over her arm, finding the spot, a hole that is small, but the source of her suffering, yes, it is. It's hot, oh so hot.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Before You Go Chapter 1: Before You Go Natalie Kabra understood that even if she was incredibly smart, she wasn't the smartest. She was smart enough to not be surprised when she found out that she was dying. "The poison is eating me, Ian. I'm not going to last," she said weakly. She lay down on the hospital bed, looking deathly pale. The doctor had just told her ten minutes ago that she wouldn't be lasting long - a week maximum - and Ian didn't want to believe it. He threw a fit when the doctor left. But with the same words coming from the dying woman herself, he might as well sit down and believe it, even if it hurt so much. He simply nodded at her words and decided to be with her on her last days, even if that meant skipping important work to be done. "You know, Daniel's outside," he said. "I know, he told me last night that he'd visit," she replied. "Do you want me to leave both of you alone?" he asked. "Yes, please," she said. "At least this once, before I go." Ian nodded and left the room. A few moments later, Dan came in. He was wearing his usual outfit - a silly superhero shirt, jeans, and year-old Chuck Taylors - and sat down on the leather chair. "You're looking mighty fine for a dying girl today," he complimented. Natalie smiled. "Whatever. Strange how you made the effort to wake up earlier than 10 am," Natalie replied. "Is it bad to wake up early just to see the girl I love before she dies?" he asked. "It sounds stranger than it's supposed to, but no, it isn't," she said. "Then I see no problem in waking up earlier than 10 am," he said triumphantly. "...Why are you here?" she asked. "Didn't I just -" "I mean, why are you here? What's your purpose in being here?" she asked. "Do you want me here?" he replied. "Of course!" she said. "So why are you asking?" he asked. "Just curious," she said. "Oh, really?" he asked. "Yes!" she said. "Fine," he said. "Fine?" she repeated. "Fine. I'm here because I want you to hear your eulogy, if you don't mind," he said. "My eulogy," Natalie repeated. "You're going to say my eulogy in front of a live me." "Is that bad?" he asked. "It breaks tradition," she replied. "Sometimes," Dan said, "tradition can be stupid. Especially that of funerals. A eulogy is basically a message for someone who has passed - why say the message only when someone's dead? Isn't it really stupid? Why not say your message when that someone's still with you? What's the point of saying a message to your beloved when your beloved is gone? He won't hear you, he won't understand you or your message anymore. It's stupid, Natalie. Stupid." "Okay, fine. What does your eulogy have in store for me?" she asked. "You're such an impatient brat," he said. "You haven't noticed?" she said jokingly. "I have. That's one of the reasons why I love you," he replied. "...Just get on with the eulogy!" she said. "Fine. Go," he said. Dan cleared his throat and started saying his eulogy. "Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Dan Cahill, the one person who can annoy Natalie to no end and still make her love me." Natalie couldn't help but smile at that. It was true, after all. "I'm also her boyfriend, but I don't want to be known as 'Natalie's Boyfriend', so let's just stick with the former introduction." "First and foremost, the thing about Natalie is that she makes it so impossibly complicated for you to fall for her. She's so amazing in so many ways, but she makes sure that you don't fall for her too fast. It's something I love about her, but it's not like I love everything about her already. I love her so much, I've accepted her flaws more than she has." "Second, she makes sure that you won't forget her. She's remarkably wonderful in ways I can never describe well enough." At this point, Natalie started crying. "Our story basically revolves around those things I've mentioned and our glimpses of forever. I admit that I'm a selfish lad, so I won't be sharing our story. Although, I will say that our little relationship could easily be compared to a long list of seemingly infinite numbers between 0 and 1, 1 and 2, 2 and 3, and so on. What do I mean by that? I mean that our relationship could easily be compared to a number of infinities. How many infinities are there from 0 to a million? A billion? A trillion? We can never really count. Do you know what else can't we count? Forever. You can never, ever count forever because 'forever' never ends. It's another form of infinity. 'Always' is another form of infinity. True love is another form of infinity. Our story is another form of infinity." "My love, I want you to know that I'm so thankful, honored, and privileged to be loved by you. Remember that all those times we fought and cried were not something to regret and put to waste - they're supposed to be treasured because they're what made us stronger and stronger until the very end." "No words will ever explain how much I'm in love with you. To this moment, I'm still in love. As creepy as it sounds, my heart still skips a beat when I see your face, and it saddens me when I realize that your heart doesn't do the same, simply because you're gone. God, Nat, I miss you so much." "Until we meet again, love. Mind saving me some chicken up there, yes?" Dan put the paper down and lay down beside her in her deathbed. "Of course I'll save you chicken, my love," she said. She closed her eyes and fell asleep in his arms. She never woke up afterwards.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Candy, Not Flowers Chapter 1: Candy, Not Flowers Knock, knock. Ted Starling didn't hear the hesitant knocking the first time. He was too busy staring out the window at the world outside this plain, white hospital room, a world he had once taken for granted. Several months ago, Ted would have completely blown off the red, orange, and magenta hues of the sunset and the jaybird swooping in to perch on the branch of the elm tree right outside Room 207's rectangular window, in favor of one of his and his siblings' inventions. But now that he had lost the ability to see and, through a series of never-before-conducted surgeries, gained it back again, he had finally learned to appreciate the beauty in these simple, everyday sights. Knock, knock, knock! This time, the rapping on the door was louder and more insistent, and Ted couldn't ignore it. "Come in!" he called out. He stood up from his seat on the bed, expecting Ned or Sinead, or possibly even Alistair Oh. But it was none of those. There stood Reagan Holt, wearing a T-shirt and shorts in place of the usual tracksuit, holding a brown paper bag in her strong arms, and looking uncharacteristically awkward. Or at least, uncharacteristic from what Ted had seen of her before losing his vision. He had no way of knowing how she had looked when she helped him draw those diagrams on the island, or how she had looked the total of two times she had come to visit him during these months of surgeries. He did, however, know that he didn't remember Reagan looking so... cute before. (Was this still part of his new outlook on the world, finding everything beautiful?) "Hi, Ted," Reagan said. After staring at him for a moment, she thrust the bag at him. "Here. I know most people bring flowers, but that's kinda girly. Plus, flowers just die. But candy, you can eat – so I thought you'd like it better." "I didn't know what you liked," she explained, looking uncomfortably at the simple décor on the hospital room walls. "So I brought a bunch of different kinds. If you don't like some of it, you could give it to me. I like it all." "Thanks," said Ted. "That's very nice of you." He set the bag on the table next to his hospital bed, then looked back up at Reagan. "Very thoughtful." There were several words that people did not often use to describe Reagan Holt. One of those was "thoughtful." It gave her pink cheeks and a sudden desire to change the subject. "Um... Cool glasses! Are those new?" Ted nodded. "The surgeries worked very well. I still doubt I'll ever have 20/20 vision again, but I'm not going to complain when this is still a lot better than before." "Yeah." Reagan frowned. "Sorry again for that explosion. It was Dad's idea." "I know." "He let me skip ballet to bring those to you, though. Probably because I don't think he really likes me taking ballet, anyway!" Reagan laughed, causing her whole face to light up. Ted thought that she was pretty nice, for a Tomas. She didn't seem as bad as the rest of the Holt clan. He definitely hadn't seen any of them bringing him gifts of candy – not flowers – or helping him draw out his diagrams back on the Madrigal island. That reminded him…. "Thanks, Reagan." She looked confused, as if someone had just presented her with one of those difficult Sudoku puzzles and asked her to solve it. "What for?" "All your help. Without you, I never could have gotten those diagrams done so I could show them to the doctors and they could use them for their surgeries. You really helped a lot." Reagan's face flushed at Ted's praise. "It was no big deal. I just drew out some pictures." "Good pictures." Ted pulled something off the bedside table, and she saw that it was the napkin she had first drawn the diagrams on. "You have a pretty steady hand. Have you ever thought of being an artist?" Her mouth fell open in a surprised little "O" shape. "No, that's Janus stuff. The only art I do is martial arts." He stared at her. "It doesn't matter if it isn't what a Tomas usually does if you like it. Just because you have the Tomas serum in you and that makes you naturally good at athletic stuff, that doesn't mean you can't be good at other things that aren't so sporty. Same with me. Just because I'm an Ekat, does that mean I can't like playing basketball sometimes with my friends?" Reagan cocked her head. "I never thought of it like that. And I didn't know you liked basketball.... Maybe we could play sometime." "Definitely," Ted replied. "Just as soon as they let me go home." Reagan flashed a smirk. "But don't be too shocked when I kick your butt!" She glanced down at her watch. "Well, I gotta go. See you, Ted!" And she bounded out of the room with a spring in her step, her pigtails swishing with every footfall. Ted smiled after her. He was looking forward to playing a game of basketball with her, although she was probably right about her beating him. Or maybe I'm just looking forward to seeing her again…. That was a strange thought that would take a while to sort out. Oh, well, he had time. It would be a while until the doctor came in to check on him. He glanced over at the bag of candy on the bedside table. Maybe just one Snickers bar while he waited.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues College Insanity Chapter 1: College Insanity Schizophrenia: A schizophrenic character has lost his grip on reality and can no longer tell the difference between what is real and what is not. These constant hallucinations cause the schizophrenic to appear erratic, chaotic, and unpredictable to others. Character: Ned Starling Disclaimer: I don't own The 39 Clues or Stanford. I don't own anything in the fan fiction. "For The Gone Angel's December Challenge" "Professor," eighteen-year-old Ned Starling said, raising his hand. Professor Griffon paused his lecture on Quantum Physics. "Excuse me for the interruption, but do you hear that?" he asked. The classroom was deadly silent for a moment; no one was sure what he meant. After a few moments, the students in the back of the room continued chattering about girls and bars. Ned swore he heard it again, a loud noise that he would mistake for a gunshot or a student yelling, mistaking it for screaming. He shook his head; Stanford was safe from the Vespers; it was an Ekat base. But not all strongholds were 100% safe. He heard the door open and close, and he sat up straight. It wasn't like him to zone out, but he had learned about all of this years ago; he just wanted to stay in a safe place. It was his safe house for a month until the Starling Triplets would go to Tel Aviv for help with their medical injuries. Looking at the door, there was a squad of Vespers, all holding guns pointing at him. He screamed and ducked under his table. He blinked, and then the Vespers all disappeared. After a small moment, a chorus of laughter from the students was followed by the Professor telling everyone to be quiet. He continued the lecture, but Ned still didn't feel safe. This wasn't paranoia; this was intense paranoia. Schizophrenia. That's what it was. He heard it happened a lot after traumatic events. Why didn't this start earlier? The bombings had happened almost two years ago, yet it only started a couple of weeks ago. He sighed and gathered his things, then left the classroom unnoticed. Ned closed his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his dorm. He was lying on his back on his bed, in the room he shared with Ted. Ted was still taking his Trigonometry lectures. They were disguised as regular college students so they wouldn't arouse suspicion. Sinead was living away with them, at the Cahill Manor. He heard loud thumping on his door. "Who is it?" he asked groggily; he hadn't gotten much sleep last night because he kept seeing the shadows change and morph into shapes that resembled an explosion and rubble raining down on him. It's not real, it's not real! He kept telling himself, yet he knew in the back of his mind that it was real. The Clue Hunt had given him large, exultingly painful headaches. All thanks to the Holts. The door exploded off its hinges; Ned looked up startled at the said large masculine family. Eisenhower Holt grabbed him by the throat and started shaking him around. Ned tried to fight back but grabbed air. He landed a successful punch on his attacker. "Ouch, Ned! It's me, Ted! Dude, calm down!" Ned blinked. The Holts disappeared. It was only Ted trying to shake him back into the land of the living. "Is it one of those headaches again?" Ted asked, concerned for his triplet brother. Now that he mentioned it, Ned felt like his forehead was on fire. "Yeah... I'm fine." He managed to choke out. He stood up. "I'm going to get a drink." Great. Chemistry. Easily one of the easiest of all his college courses. Ned yawned. "...And so that's why H2O has hydrogen bonds, which only break at 100°C. Are you taking this down?" Professor John asked the class. The professor was a nice man; he would crack jokes every once in a while and make puns. It was worthwhile to listen; at least Ned got a daily dose of laughter in this class. The other classes were boring and uninformative. "Now, does anyone memorize what DNA stands for and the chemical formula for it? No, Tyler, it doesn't mean National Dyslexic Association..." Ned tried hard to focus. Today, he was not going to let his hallucinations own him. The glass windows shattered, but he tried hard to pay attention. It's only a hallucination, not real... He could hear a helicopter in the distance, no wait – two helicopters! Gunmen poured through the now shattered windows, but Ned ignored it all. Not real... not real. He looked at his classmates to clarify they were only hallucinations; they didn't seem bothered. He couldn't help but cringe when the guns were pointed at him. Not real... Not real... he kept telling himself. He felt a searing pain on his head, like a hammer was pounding it. In fact, in his illusion, a hammer was hitting his head. Darrel had thought his classmate, Ned, was one of the few sane people in Stanford. Apparently, he was wrong. Casting a sideways glance at him while Professor John was talking, he saw that he was almost ripping out his hair and cringing whenever someone cast a look near him. Finally, he watched as Ned screamed, "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" and exited the classroom. Professor John looked highly offended but ultimately shrugged and continued lecturing. There went another sane person.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Chapter 1: Falling A big thank you to Nimrodel626 for beta-reading this! You're awesome, Nim! Pony's feet pounded the earth in time with his heartbeat as he ran after Dan. Pierce's thugs had pinned the boy's arms behind him and were dragging him towards the helicopter. "Stop!" he yelled pointlessly. His ponytail flapping behind him, Pony caught up to the goons, eyes flashing. But before he could do anything, one of them grabbed his arms, holding him back, as the others pushed Dan into the chopper and leaped in. With a smirk, the one gripping Pony shoved him to the ground, sending him sprawling. Turning, he leaped into the chopper as well, slamming the door behind him. Pony pulled himself to his feet, a pained expression on his face. Just before the helicopter lifted off, he dove for the landing skid and gripped it with all his might. He didn't let himself think, or he never would have done it. The rotors whirled faster as the chopper rose from the ground, the resulting wind loosening his ponytail and whipping hair into his face. Pony bit his lip, trying to concentrate on hanging on. Amy was yelling at him to let go, but he ignored her. He had to save Dan. But it only took a few seconds for Pony to realize that his attempts were futile. And now he was too high up to safely let go. He scanned the ground below him, hoping for a tree he could jump down into. Adrenaline was coursing through him, and fear had not yet taken hold. Everything felt surreal. After a moment, he saw that they were nearing a clump of trees that must have been on a hill, because they were higher than most of the surrounding jungle. Hope surged in his heart. Come on, just a little closer, come on, come on... The chopper did get closer - so close, in fact, that Pony's sneaker brushed the treetops. But with a sinking feeling, he saw at once that the top branches were too flimsy to support his weight. And then his chance was over, and the chopper flew on and higher. Air rushed past his face, flicking sweaty bits of hair out of his eyes. His fingers were damp with perspiration, and his muscles were screaming with the effort of holding on. Pony breathed a desperate prayer. He made the mistake of looking down for half a second, and even in the relative darkness, he could sense how high up he already was. A fall from this height would undoubtedly kill him. His fingers were gripping the skid so hard it hurt, but he didn't have a proper hold on it. Fear, real fear, gripped Pony for the first time as his adrenaline rush began to fade and the terrible reality of his predicament set in. Suddenly, Pony felt his left hand slipping off, aided by his sweat-damp fingers. No, no, NO! were his thoughts, and then his hand slid free, and he was hanging by his right arm. A scream escaped him, and he tried to swing up and grab the skid with his left hand, but it was impossible. Then there was a sickening pop and crippling pain in his shoulder, and for a second of sheer, raw terror, he realized he had let go. He was falling through the air. Falling. Falling to his certain death. At first, Pony wanted to scream again. But instead, a strange calmness stole over him. Time seemed to slow to a halt. Wind whistled past his ears, and he knew he was falling, going to die, but for some reason, he suddenly didn't care all that much. Everything felt surreal, like a dream. Had he really just fallen from a helicopter? He was able to think with remarkable clarity. Faces flashed before his eyes. Those of his parents and brother, who only barely knew that he was working for the Cahills and had no idea where he was right now. A vague feeling of regret washed over him. He would never be able to say goodbye. Next were Amy and Dan, and then Jonah, Ian, Hamilton... he wouldn't be able to say goodbye to them, either. They had become his best friends, and he had always had a feeling of amazement that they had wanted to be his friends. He had been a loner before that, feeling most at home with a laptop and energy drink. After that, it was Nellie. His "goddess". He had harbored a crush on her since the day they'd met, though he knew there was almost no chance she'd ever like him back. But now, the thing he wanted most wasn't for his affection to be returned by her. It was to have one chance, just one, to tell her goodbye. Then it was memories, tossed at random into his consciousness. His dad teaching him to ride a bike, his first successful hacking attempt, his mom cuddling him during a thunderstorm when he was small - all these and many more surfaced and flashed before him almost faster than he could process them. A twinge of sorrow fluttered deep within him; he was leaving all this behind. But he had faith. Faith that what came next was better than the present. He fell further, twisting around in midair. Time sped up again. The trees were rushing towards him, and then he was among them, falling, hitting branches. There was pain, but vague and distant, and then the falling ceased. A faint, hopeful smile played around his lips, and he let himself drift away.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Chapter 1: Growing Hi. If you are reading this, I thank you. This is my first fanfic, so please don't judge. This is a one-shot about Amy growing up. Enjoy! Now, it's time to do the disclaimer. I dragged Amy over. "Our favorite time! Time for me to annoy someone into doing the disclaimer!" Amy rolled her eyes. "Dweeb, that's just Jasmine." I said, "I'm over here..." Amy replied, "Jasmine Cahill. She's a Lucian. We met her last year during the reunion. But, Jasmine, why are we here?" I said, "You, my friend, will be doing the disclaimer." Amy stated, "Lucian-4ever does not own me, Dan, or anyone else. She only owns her plot and any additional characters she adds in." I thanked Amy, saying, "What a pity. I could not use any blackmail or poisons since you cooperated. Not fun at all." On with the story! At four years old, Amy exclaimed, "Mommy! Look! A butterfly!" as she pointed at a monarch butterfly, amazed. Her mother, Hope, smiled at Amy chasing after the butterfly. At seven years old, a day before the fire, Amy looked up to stare at her mother. Her mother's once lively viridian eyes had turned dull. Forcing a smile, Hope turned to her daughter, bending down to meet Amy's questioning gaze. Glad that her mother's attention was focused on her, Amy pulled a book from behind her back with a flourish. "Could you please read this for me, Mommy? Dad's playing with Dan." A real smile crept onto Hope's face. She sat on a blue couch and patted her thighs. "Of course, Amy." Mother and daughter got trapped in the magical world of Cinderella. At nine years old, Amy skipped into Grace's mansion, a reluctant Dan trailing after her. "Grace!" Amy exclaimed delightedly, hugging her grandmother. Amy had endured a week of torture at her school. Chrissy, the most popular girl at school, had called her a weirdo in front of everyone. Aunt Beatrice had also fired another au pair, Lisa. Lisa had been her favorite au pair, as she would bring classics for Amy to read. She even knew how to control Dan, which, to Amy, was a miracle. Amy had been looking forward to visiting Grace, as Grace could always cheer her up. After hugging Grace, Amy set off for the library in the mansion, leaving Grace to deal with Dan, who thought he was a ninja. Opening the huge oak doors leading to the library, she inhaled the musty smell of books. She let her hand trail across the spines of a few non-fiction books before pulling Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows down. She curled up on one of the armchairs and started to read. She hadn't noticed Grace coming in. "Amy, what are you reading?" Grace asked curiously, noticing the similarity between Hope and her granddaughter. Amy let out a small gasp before muttering, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." Grace gently pried her fingers off the book and set it down on a table. She led Amy to a secluded section of the library, where mahogany shelves towered above the pair. The shelves were stacked neatly with books of all genres. Grace gestured at the books. "Amy, you can bring some of these back to the apartment, as long as you put them back the next time you visit." Amy gasped again as she thanked Grace. Grace left her alone, watching Amy start to read again. Hope had always loved books too. She knew her daughter and son-in-law's death affected Amy just as much as their deaths affected her, if not more. At thirteen years old, Amy had no idea why Grace always hosted these 'reunions'. She barely knew half of the relatives that gathered at Grace's mansion. Grace had assured them that they were all related, talking about first cousins, second cousins... Amy even remembered her talking about her 23rd cousins. Her relatives were still bearable, mostly. There was a Russian lady with the last name Spasky, an old Korean who insisted on them calling him Uncle, the Holts, who picked on both Amy and Dan. The worst relatives she could not stand were the Kabras, or as Dan called them, Cobras. They were rich, pampered, snobby brats, not to mention spoiled. The siblings teased Amy relentlessly, played pranks on Dan, and were mean to the Cahill siblings. Even Chrissy could not hold a candle to the monstrous, flawless Cobras. She escaped to the library, leaving Dan to the mercy of the Cobras. That was payback for spilling soda over a library book. The dweeb. At fourteen years old, Amy and Dan had just won the clue hunt. Dan, being Dan, went to buy some video games using their new fortune. Once a dweeb, always a dweeb. Amy had gone to the library. Once a bookworm, always a bookworm. At fifteen years old, Amy dodged the flying punch bag. She was training, like always. The Vesper threat had gotten her to train and study hard, continuously. She barely had time to eat or sleep. Picking up a towel, she wiped the sweat off her head and showered. Despite having less than enough time to eat and sleep, she would always have time for books. Amy went to her room, lay in her bed, and started reading Pride and Prejudice. At twenty years old, Amy glanced out of her window. Snow-covered trees dotted the area. It was a beautiful day. Unfortunately, she had no time to enjoy the scenery. Amy grabbed the mug of hot chocolate and brought out a book to read. Please review and rate! Thanks! ~Jas Cahill
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Heartbreak Chapter 1: Heartbreak I know I haven't updated my other story in a while. I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. Remember Amy's breakup with Evan? I'm sorry, I know Ian's really out of character. Read and review! Amy sat curled up with her newest book in a cushion, in the sunroom. The sun was streaming in through the ceiling-to-floor windows. She had just returned from their last mission for Vesper 1, and they were expecting a release notice any day. She heard the door open but didn't bother looking up to see who it was. She felt Evan kiss the top of her head, and she looked up and smiled at him. "Hey Ames," he said, grinning. "How are you?" She put the book down as she stood up and stretched. "I'm great," Amy replied. "It's such a relief to have the Vespers off our back." She leaned against him, but for some reason, he seemed tense. "Is everything alright?" she asked, moving back. He ran his hand through his hair. "Amy, I have something to tell you." "You're a what?" Amy shrieked. Evan approached her, but she backed away. "A Vesper," he said. "Amy, the Vespers want to help the world. You can join us. That's why I was placed here. My mission was to help recruit you and Dan." Amy was on the verge of tears. "This was all a lie?" Amy asked, her voice venomous. "All those dates, all those kisses? This is like Korea all over again! What would happen to my friends if Dan and I agreed? Would you just dispose of them?" She asked, her eyes blazing with anger. He backed slowly toward the window, seeing the reckless rage in her eyes. "Amy, it wasn't a lie," Evan said. "It was true. Join us. We can be together. Nothing can stop us." Tears streamed openly down her face now. "Nothing, Evan?" Amy repeated. "Nothing could stop us? What about Fiske and Nellie? What about all my friends, who finally united the Cahills in a time of peril? The Vespers shot Nellie! My grandmother died wanting me to fight this. And I will." She turned away and laid her hands on her face. He walked up behind her. "Ames?" He asked. She whirled around and punched him in the stomach, and it had a loud thud as the air left his chest. She sent more punches and kicks, fueled by her hurt and rage. He backed away, scared at the wild look in her eyes as she turned on him. He was backed against the window. Then, with the hurt that only heartbreak can bring, Amy slammed into Evan, shattering the glass and sending him down the building. She didn't bother looking to see where he landed. She ran to the cushion and sobbed into it, a broken soul. Ian raced up the stairs to the sunroom, hearing the sound of faint sirens hurrying towards the house. He had heard the commotion, though most people would be heading toward the pool, as the sunroom is directly above it. He pushed the door open and was greeted with the sight of Amy sobbing on a floor full of broken glass shards. He joined her on the floor and cautiously put his arm around her shoulders. Instead of pushing him away, she turned and buried her face into his chest. He let her, as the sobs racked her body. He started whispering in her ear. "It's alright... you're safe... calm down..." Her sobs quieted, but she didn't move from her position against him. "You're safe," he whispered again. She lifted her head and gazed at him, her jade green eyes telling him the pain she was going through for the second time. He was ashamed that the first time had been his fault. He started rocking her back and forth while holding her, knowing she needed to rest. She allowed him, as she closed her eyes. She felt Ian whispering in her ear, but didn't want to move. She felt safe. When she looked up, she felt his amber eyes peering into her soul. She knew she wasn't hiding her hurt as a normal Cahill would, but she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried. He rocked her back and forth, finally allowing her to close her eyes. She stayed awake but let herself rest. He never let go of her. She felt his chest move as he turned his head, and she listened to hear footsteps coming up the stairs. She expected Ian to push her away, proving she meant nothing to him. But he didn't. Hamilton and Dan rushed in to see Ian cross-legged on the floor with Amy next to him. He had his arms around her, and her arms were around him. Instead of Dan grabbing Amy from him, like Ian expected, he walked over and sat next to them. "What happened?" Dan asked softly. Amy took a watery breath before explaining what Evan had told her. He tensed as he heard what had happened. After Amy finished telling the story, she was lifted into the air. She was surprised that Ian had chosen to carry her instead of giving her to Hamilton. Dan led the party to her room, where she was laid on the bed. Dan and Hamilton left, leaving her alone with Ian. He took a step towards the door, but hesitated. He walked back and took her hand. "Are you alright?" he asked. "No, but I will be someday," she replied. He nodded, then bent down and kissed her. She didn't protest, so he straightened and left. Ian was furious. Tolliver was lucky Amy got to him before he could. Because someday, Ian would make him pay.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Opposite Ends Chapter 1: Opposite Ends This is just a short Hamnead oneshot I thought up. Enjoy! "Five cars back, Grey Mercedes. It's the Starlings." "A Starbucks? Where?" - Amy and Nellie Ekat + Janus + Lucian + Thomas = Cahill So, why exactly was she now in his arms, lips locked in that flushed embrace? When did this feeling of lust begin? When did it start to burn her soul when he wasn't there? When did she fall hard for him? Really, it was incomprehensible to her. Her mind flashed back to moments ago. How had that conversation - no, argument - turned into this? She had given him a glare and curtly replied, "What does it look like, Dolt?" "I don't know, I thought you were the genius Starbucks," he fired back at her. She shot him another venomous look. "That I am, Dolt, but if I tried to explain it to you, I'm afraid your meager intelligence would be unable to handle it." "It's an athletic scholarship, Dolt." "Still, that alone wouldn't have been enough, Starbucks," he said cheekily, and she had to use all her willpower to not slap him upside the head. She muttered a few choice words under her breath. "What was that?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. She gave him one last withering look, then turned back to the machine she was working on at that moment. It had a stuck clog and would have been a simple fix except for the fact that the Dolt was so close. Really, what was wrong with her? "It looks like it's stuck," he commented, making her jump at how near he was. His breath was right by her ear, lingering as it sent shivers up her spine. She turned acutely to give him a look of 'I'm working, so can you please not disturb me' when she froze, pinned in place by his blue eyes, his deep sparkling blue eyes... "Hey, earth to Starbucks, anyone home?" he asked while waving a hand in front of her face, jolting her out of her trance. She gave him a dirty look and turned back to her machine. "Sheesh, just trying to be nice." "Well, you can go be nice to someone else," she said sharply as she turned to face him yet again. Really, it was too much for her. He held up his hands in mock pain. "Hey! That hurts my heart!" "Right, I'm sure that did," she said as she rolled her eyes and continued. "Like setting a bomb in a museum and severely injuring a trio of kids isn't painful." "Look," he said, finally trying to be serious as a look of hurt and guilt crossed his face. "I'm sorry about that, I really am. But what do you want me to do? I'm not exactly a miracle worker here." "That's exactly it," she remarked coldly. "You're not a miracle worker, so why did you even do it? Not like it matters now anyway." Her voice cracked. "Sinead..." he said, finally using her name. "Look, I... I-I just don't know anymore. My family - my dad, he's... intimidating. He's the one who expected me to plant it... He's the one who expected me to make sure it went off... He's the one who expected it - me - to take someone, anyone, you out, to make sure that you couldn't... wouldn't... make it." His voice had died down to a whisper. She glanced up at him, tears in both of their eyes, and slowly, as if she couldn't speak, mouthed 'Why?' Then they rushed forward, as one, as if they were opposite ends of a magnet, coming together with a hot grasp and that intoxicating kiss. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, maybe just a few seconds. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. To her, it was like a piece of forever. Then they pulled away. She couldn't help but pant heavily, that it didn't last longer. Really, she had fallen hard for him, it was embarrassing. It was right in front of her, yelling, screeching, screaming her name, trying its best to get her attention. It demanded it, craved it, sought it, until it finally said, "Fuck it," and slapped her in the face. It was a rude wake-up call. I, Sinead Starling, am in love with Hamilton Holt. It didn't get any clearer than that. His voice began to filter back to her. "I'm sorry, really I am. Can you forgive me?" She blinked. Twice. Could she forgive him? Could she forget? Could she be fine with it, fine with what happened? She didn't know. But right now, with his arms around her and her arms around him, maybe - just maybe - she could try. "Sinead?" "I-I'm not sure. I think I could forgive, I can never forget, but... I can try." "That's all I ever wanted." And Hamilton Holt bent down to deliver another kiss to Sinead Starling. Really, it was funny. They were opposite ends of the equation. She was the Ekat, he was the Thomas, but still, they couldn't do anything by themselves. They were opposite ends of two magnets. So different that they attracted, so similar that they repelled. They were opposite ends. She was Sinead Starling. He was Hamilton Holt. She couldn't forget the scars he caused; she couldn't forget the love she felt for him. He couldn't forget the pain he put her through; he couldn't forget the hope he had for them. Really, they were opposite ends, they shouldn't feel this way. But she did, he did. And that's all that mattered.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Secret Sister Chapter 1: Secret Sister It was a family dinner. Amy and Dan sat in the front next to Ian and Natalie. Everyone was eating peacefully and happily. Suddenly, there was a groan and a thud. The oak doors slammed open, revealing a girl with black, wavy hair that reached her waist, big amber eyes (identical to Ian and Natalie's), and a narrow, shaped face. In contrast, she had two deadly-looking swords hanging at her sides, poison needles in her fingers, poison lipstick, two daggers strapped to her calves, five throwing knives on her waist, and ten ninja stars covered with poison in her hair. "Who are you?" Ian asked coolly. She stared at him as if he were an alien. "I am your sister," she haughtily replied. "And your butler is so annoying. No, you can't go in. Master Ian will just shoot you down," she said, imitating the butler. Dan chuckled beside Amy. The girl shot him a look. "Do you think this is funny?" she asked. Dan gulped, trying to stifle his giggles, and attempted to look serious. Ian simply leaned back in his chair, put his napkin down, and scanned the little girl. "How old are you?" he asked. "Ten," she replied. "What's your name?" Natalie inquired. "Rose," she answered. "Well, Rose, if you are my sister, then you should know the answer to this question," Ian said. "Who is my mother, and what made her abandon us and go to jail?" Rose tapped her foot and thought for a bit. "I know our mom is Isabelle Kabra, and you went searching for the 39 clues. Also, when you lost, she got mad and shot Natalie in the foot, so she went to jail when you guys bailed on her and told the police everything she did wrong. But there is something I came here for. Isabelle escaped, and now the FBI wants you to help me find her. Then, you can ask her about me, okay?" she replied with a questioning look in her eyes and a slight tilt of her head. Ian shook his head. "I already know you are my sister. Only Isabelle tilts her head like that and has that questioning look. But why should we help you with capturing Isabelle?" Ian questioned. "Don't be such a pussycat," Dan said to Ian. "Amy and I are in." "We are?" Amy squeaked. Dan nodded and stood up. "Count us in," he said. Hamilton stood up for his family, and Sidney and the twins, along with Alistair Oh, nodded their heads in agreement. "Fine, then, we're in too," Natalie said, sneaking a look at Ian. He nodded in agreement. Rose gave a small sigh of relief. "I know where she's headed," Rose told the whole family. "She is going to Paris, where some of her friends are," Rose said strongly. "Good, about time I got new clothes," Natalie sighed, checking her nails. Everyone knew she was nervous about meeting Isabelle. "Let's go," Ian said, standing up from his chair. Everyone did the same and scrambled around, packing clothes, finding suitcases, and getting more clothes. Rose just stood there, waiting. "Aren't you going to pack?" Amy asked. "I already did. My assistants did it for me. All I need is some clothes, a toothbrush, a comb, and my weapons," she answered. "We're ready," Dan said, checking on everyone. "Natalie, do you really need ten suitcases?" Dan asked, looking at her bags. Natalie haughtily replied, "Yes, yes, I do." Dan sighed, and so did everyone else. Rose stifled a giggle and said, "Come on, the FBI is waiting outside." They marched out of the giant mansion and saw a limo waiting outside. As the suitcases were loaded into the car, an agent stood up. "Agent Rose, standing attention for orders," he said in a gruff voice. Rose nodded and said, "Tell HQ that we're coming, and that the plan worked well." He nodded and took out a walkie-talkie, shouting into it in a different language. "French," Ian whispered to Amy. "You are absolutely correct. Mind you, you start working on your French," Rose scolded everyone like a mother. Dan giggled and whispered to Amy, "She's worse than you." Amy glared at him and bonked him at the back of his head. Amy thought she could see the little girl smile and turned away. As everyone climbed into the limo, the agent returned with news. "HQ was attacked while you were gone. Everything is still there, but whoever attacked the HQ left you a note," he said. Rose looked pale and clammy. "I think I know who did it," she whispered. We all looked at each other, not wanting to know who did it, although we already knew. "Isabelle has gone too far with this," Rose declared. We all nodded our heads. In the meeting room with the boss of HQ, the boss said, "So, you must go after Isabelle and stop her before she does something even worse. This attack on the HQ was just a little step in her plan. She might destroy the world next." Rose looked at the big bunch seriously. "I want to get Isabelle for keeping me trapped in a closet and only taking me out to train me. That woman needs to be caught again before anything happens," she said. We all nodded our heads in agreement. "Have you noticed that we do the nodding, and you do the talking?" Dan asked. "Yes, and that is so unlike Natalie. I thought she would talk more during the ride," Rose replied, looking at her older brother and sister. We all laughed, except Natalie. Please read Moonlight (coming soon) to find out what happens next. Thanks!
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Sorry, Evan Chapter 1: Sorry, Evan This is Evan's story, connected to my other two stories, "What now?" and "You've got to be Kidding." Soon, there will be a third sequel, "The Vesper Hunt." Enjoy! "Hey, sorry man, we didn't want to miss our ride," Amy's brother said. Evan couldn't believe what they had just done, but he shrugged and walked back into the coffee shop to get his books and backpack. "Dude, did she tell you any insights?" Matt asked. "What's it to you? Maybe I actually wanted to talk to her," Evan snapped. "To nerd girl? Who stutters, and trips, and-" Evan didn't wait for him to finish insulting Amy. He started walking home. While he was walking, Evan noticed three guys in black trench coats on the opposite street, their eyes following him. Evan walked at a quicker pace. He got inside his house. "Mom? I'm home." Evan set his stuff down on the dining table. "Mom?" The silence was eerie to him. "Mom, are you there?" He heard a short cry upstairs. Evan ran up, his feet pounding on the steps. He entered his parents' room in a hurry. On the bed, a guy was holding his mother down, a knife two inches from her throat, and her mouth covered. "What are-" Evan then saw his dad on the floor, knocked out and bloody. "Sorry, we didn't want to kill him just yet," a voice said behind him. Evan jumped forward a good few feet. "The name is Casper-" "Like the friendly ghost?" Evan asked, stupidly. He once accidentally read Amy's personal binder, and it said, 'Dan seems to have the right idea. Humor the enemy, it sounds good, as long as you're not getting killed.' Casper, the not-so-friendly ghost, chuckled deeply. It sounded totally murderous. "More like: Casper the intelligent Vesper. He doesn't understand me... Anyway." He clapped his hands. "What do we have here?" "Evan Tolliver, sir," the guy holding down his mother said. Evan's mom had wild eyes, telling him to run. Not without you, Evan thought back. He wouldn't show them his fear. Killers get the instincts of a lion. They sense your fear, his dad once told him, when Evan was asking why criminals were so criminal. "Right... why did the boss say we needed him for?" Casper asked. "Amy Cahill, sir. She seems to have a crush on him." Normally, Evan would have had a grin on his face after hearing that. But this wasn't normal. "Of course. Evan, we have an offer for you," Casper bent down, so he could look at Evan in the eye. "Not exactly an offer, you don't have much of a choice. Either you take us on it, or your parents die." He snapped his fingers. "Daphne, call in the others, we have to trap them now." For the first time, Evan realized the 'guy' was actually a girl in oversized clothes. He turned to face her, and saw that her hat had come off. She had long blonde hair and baby blue eyes. "Of course," Daphne said. She shot Evan a dazzling smile. "I'm hoping to see you soon. I really hate it when they have to- never mind." Daphne left. "W-what do you want?" Evan stuttered. "We, the Vespers, have been watching you for a very long time, Evan." Evan gulped. "That's... stalking, isn't it?" He laughed nervously. "Evan, this is the matter of your parents' life or death. Do you wish to joke on this account?" Casper waited for Evan's expression. The three guys in trench coats that Evan saw earlier came in and shoveled up his parents like ragged dolls. "Hey! They're still people!" He shouted. Daphne smirked. "Just wait, you won't even care later on," she said. "Evan, this is important. We want you to join the Vespers," Casper continued. "Right... the West ports-" "Vespers." "Vespers. Why couldn't you get a cool name, like, I don't know, the Tigers maybe?" The look on Casper's face made Evan wince. "S-sorry. Just don't kill me." "How original. Kid, do you think a killer is going to tell you 'stop talking, I'm about to kill you'? You-" "Mister, get back to the point?" Evan said, as polite as he could. "We have seen Amy Cahill's reaction to you. And... you might be useful to us." "What do I have to do?" "We'll tell you. Just small things, like, hurt her for instance without her knowing-" "No way! I won't!" "Or you could be sitting at your parents' graveyard right now, weeping." "Hurt someone... innocent?" "They're not innocent. Five hundred years ago, their ancestor was best friends with Damien Vesper. But he did not share things with him. Gideon Cahill betrayed Damien." "I'd like to hear both sides." "As you wish." Casper snapped his fingers, and Evan's mom screamed. "What are you doing?" Evan began to stand up, but two goons forced him back down. "Join us... or pay the price." Evan thought about all those times Amy had helped him, and stuttered while talking. If that isn't innocent... what is? Then he thought about his parents. It's just like one of those shows, choose your parent or a friend... "Isn't there any way... to be in both? Or something?" Evan asked. "Sorry, Evan. Parents... or a girl." "I'll join." I know it's short and all, I just wanted you guys to understand Evan's "story" for my future fanfics. So, it might help when in one of my chapters, Evan blurts things out, so you don't go "What the heck?" Anyway, hope you liked it!
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: books 39-Clues Chapter 1: Who says I do not own the 39 Clues or "Who Says" by Selena Gomez. Amy's POV: "What should I wear?" I said to myself. "Hey, Kurt, I'm almost ready, just give me five minutes," I said into the phone. I heard a frustrated sigh from the other end of the line and raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong, Kurt?" I asked. "Look, Amy, I don't know how to say this, but I'm breaking up with you," he said. At that moment, my heart broke into a million pieces. "B-b-but…" I stuttered. "Amy, it's just that you're not worth it. I don't know what I saw in you. I mean, you're too boring, you always seem to be in your own world, and you're not even pretty. Goodbye, Amy Cahill." Then he hung up. I immediately started crying and was happy I hadn't put any mascara on yet. I didn't want Nellie and Dan to see me like this, so I thought it would be best to take a walk. I cleaned my face, changed into a plain T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and went out the door. "Bye, kiddo!" I heard Nellie say as I went out the front door. I walked until I got to Washington Park and sat on a bench. Once I did, all the tears just started to pour out. Then I heard a voice I didn't expect to hear. "Amy?" I heard a familiar British accent say. "Is that you?" I looked and saw the famous face of Ian Kabra. "Yes, it's me. Now, what do you want?" I was really angry, and now I was taking my anger out on Ian. "I want to know why you're crying," he said. I don't know why, but all my emotions just poured out, and I told him everything. "Kurt broke up with me and said I was not pretty and that I wasn't worth it, and that I was boring." Ian sat next to me and put an arm around me. We sat there for a couple of minutes without saying anything until Ian broke the silence. "I'll be right back. But so you don't get bored, listen to this," he said, handing me an iPod. The song "Who Says" by Selena Gomez started playing: I wouldn't wanna be anybody else You made me insecure You said I was boring Told me I wasn't good enough But who are you to judge When you're a diamond in the rough If you're going to judge someone, then judge yourself I'm sure you've got some things You'd like to change about yourself Maybe change being a jerk But when it comes to me If being me is boring, then so be it Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na I'm no beauty queen I'm just beautiful me I'm not like the other girls who always wear too much makeup Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na You've got every right To a beautiful life, c'mon He can be a good guy if he wants to (Chorus) Who says? Who says you're not perfect Who says you're not worth it Nobody's perfect, but that doesn't mean you're not worth it Who says you're the only one that's hurting He probably thinks I'm a mess right now Trust me That's the price of beauty True beauty that comes from the inside doesn't get you the guys usually Who says you're not pretty Who says you're not beautiful I'm not the prettiest girl ever, but I'm not ugly Who says anything about you that is negative? It's such a funny thing How nothing's funny when it's you When someone gets hurt, you laugh, but when it's you, it's all about you You tell 'em what you mean But they keep writing out the truth When I tell him I can't make a date because of a Madrigal meeting, he just thinks I'm cheating on him It's like a work of art That never gets to see the light Everybody just sees me as a nerd Keep you beneath the stars Won't let you touch the sky They keep me in the loser group and put me down every time I'm just about to stand up to them (Bridge) Who says you're no star potential Who says you're not presidential Who says I can't make a stand? Who says you can't be in movies Listen to me, listen to me He won't ever listen to me Who says you don't pass the test Who says you can't be the best I already won the clue hunt with Dan Who says, who says Won't you tell me who said that? Kurt and the popular girls at school Yeah, who says? (Chorus) x2 After listening to that song, I felt better. But what was this song doing on Ian's iPod? I saw Ian and prepared myself to ask him. But before I could, Ian gave me a chocolate ice cream cone. "I didn't know what flavor you liked, so I just got chocolate," he said. "That's okay, I like chocolate," I said. "Good," he said. "Can I have my iPod back?" "Here," I said, handing it to him. "But may I ask why you have 'Who Says' on here?" "It's Natalie's iPod," he said, blushing. "And why do you have it?" I asked. "Natalie kept torturing me with Selena Gomez, so I took it away," he said. "So, did you like anything on it, though?" he asked me. "Yeah," I said. "It was just what I needed." "Good," he said. "Oh, and Amy, don't let anybody say anything like that to you again." "Because you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Plus, you are worth it, and don't let anyone make you think otherwise," he said. At that moment, I realized I loved Ian. So I kissed him without knowing a hundred percent sure what I was doing. We broke apart and smiled. And that's when I heard someone yelling, "Stop!"
This is a fanfic story. Genre: anime Chapter 1 I own no anime or cartoons and make no profit from my fan fiction. Warning: Yaoi Do Not Read If You Do Not Like Yaoi If you like yaoi, please read and review. Reviews help inspire new stories and give me the drive to work on others. Warning: Yaoi, Dub Con, Top, Natsu AU Pairing: Natsu/Gray/Harem Part of my anti-uke club, rare pairing/lonely boys club, harem club Do not read if you do not like. 3rd Gen Fire Dragon Makarov turns Natsu into a 3rd Gen dragon slayer by giving him the Ice Dragon lacrima. This is before the 7-year time skip, a slight Alternate Universe. Yaoi, Harem. Chapter 1: 3rd Gen Slayer Natsu Makarov had heard rumors of infusing dragon lacrima into dragon slayers. He didn't think it was possible, but if it was, it meant that powerful slayers could be born, ones that would want to hurt the original slayers and the pseudo-dragon slayers like Laxus. Laxus was not a concern; the boy was strong, arrogant, but strong. Natsu, however, was young. If it was possible to create a 3rd Gen slayer, Natsu would be the one to try it with. Makarov had acquired the Ice Dragon lacrima and was saving it in case it was needed. He decided Natsu would be the one to use it, as it would make him an incredible dragon slayer. He approached Natsu and asked the boy if he'd like to get stronger. Natsu was very enthusiastic about it. The lacrima was very painful to infuse into the boy. His dragon magic swirled and mixed together until the lacrima was fully infused into him. Natsu panted and gave a thumbs-up. "Feeling good," he said. With one hand, he created fire, and with the other, he coated it in ice. "Wow, so cool!" Makarov set Gray up with Natsu to help him learn how to control his new ice-based magic. The older male never thought things would heat up between them. After years of fighting, brawling, and training, Makarov discovered the two had ended up in an intimate relationship. Natsu, who appeared to be 16 years old, had Gray pinned beneath him. They had been sparring for a few hours that day and had worked up quite a sweat. Gray had ended up stripping out of his clothes by accident, and before he realized it, he was naked and fighting Natsu. Natsu didn't know what it was, whether it was the ice mage's musk or the fact that he was naked, but he had seen Gray naked often enough. He didn't know, but seeing Gray right now had him excited. Gray groaned as Natsu pinned him down. His eyes flashed gold, and it had Gray's blood rushing south. "Natsu, what are you doing?" Gray moaned, and Natsu growled low in his throat, grinding his clothed arousal next to Gray's naked manhood. "I think you know what I'm doing, Gray, and I think you want it to," Natsu said, and licked the male's neck. Gray groaned and arched his back, grinding against the dragon slayer. Natsu growled, and his hands became coated in ice, making ice claws. He made a bed of ice beneath Gray. Gray moaned and bucked against the warmth Natsu created. "Fuck, Natsu!" Gray moaned, and Natsu placed hot kisses down the ice mage's body, getting closer and closer to Gray's aching arousal. Natsu licked Gray's sweaty body, loving the taste of the ice mage. "Natsu, please," Gray moaned, bucking his hips. Natsu licked his lips and stared at Gray's sexy body, his skin flushed, and his cock leaking pre-cum. "Do you want me to stop?" Natsu asked, and Gray whipped his head back and forth. "No, I want you to stop teasing me," Gray moaned, and Natsu smirked at him. He started to strip off his clothing, and Natsu's huge tool sprang into the air, pulsing and producing a lot of heat. Natsu slid his length along Gray's cock; the raven-haired male moaned, digging his nails into Natsu's back. The slayer's durable body accepted the assault. "Do you want me to suck you, take you into my mouth, and suck down your release?" Natsu purred, grinding his dick against Gray. "Oh, kami, yes!" Gray moaned. The dragon slayer licked down Gray's body again, this time leaving a trail of warm saliva down Gray's body. Gray was clean-shaven, completely bare. Natsu kissed his hairless crotch before kissing up Gray's hard length. "Natsu!" Gray moaned. Natsu took Gray's cock into his mouth and began to suck on it. Gray writhed in pleasure as Natsu's warm mouth worked his aching arousal. "Oh, Kami, Natsu, so hot, so good, I love it, so good!" Gray moaned, and Natsu growled around his length, sending the most pleasing vibrations through Gray's cock. The dragon slayer licked and sucked Gray's manhood, enjoying every moan he earned from the other male. Gray felt his release wash over him; he moaned Natsu's name as he sprayed his cum deep into Natsu's mouth. Natsu drank Gray down and licked his lips. "You taste yummy, Gray, almost as nice as eating your ice," Natsu said. Gray shivered; Natsu was able to eat ice as well as fire, and both gave him intense energy. Natsu spat into his hand and lubed his dick. "Shall we move onto the main course?" Natsu asked, and Gray nodded his head. Makarov didn't want to watch, leaving the two to their blooming love. Gray and Natsu were an open couple from that day on. In fact, their love was so intense and famous it was featured in Sorcerer Magazine. Natsu and Gray were named the hottest couple. Natsu and Gray were on a team, which helped hide the fact that Natsu was a third-gen dragon slayer. To be continued. NEXT CHAPTER Chapter 2 I own no anime or cartoons and make no profit from my fan fiction. Warning: Yaoi Do Not Read If You Do Not Like Yaoi If you like yaoi, please read and review. Reviews help inspire new stories and give me the drive to work on others. Warning: Yaoi, Group Exhi Pairing: Natsu/Gray Do not read if you do not like. 3rd Gen Fire Dragon Chapter 2: Hot Couple Lucy squealed as she looked at a page from Sorcerer Magazine. It was a picture of the guild's hottest couple, Natsu Dragneel and Gray Fullbuster. Natsu was lighting a candle with the tip of his tongue; Natsu was clothed, but Gray was naked. Red wax dripped onto his body, and Gray was flushed. He was looking at Natsu lovingly, a blush staining his cheeks. Natsu's other hand blocked the view to Gray's intimate parts. "Oh, wow, these two are so hot; I wonder if they're really together or if it's just a pose," Lucy said. She looked over a review of the guild for that week and chuckled at all the trouble that had been going on. "I so want to join Fairy Tail; it would be great," she said. She heard a commotion and saw a bunch of girls swarming a man. The moment Lucy looked at him, she felt something grip her heart. "Oh, my, my heart is pounding," she said. "Igneel!" Natsu burst in, disrupting the magic affecting Lucy. Happy was riding on his shoulders, and Gray was not far behind, the ice mage only in a pair of boxers. "Hey, you're not Igneel," Natsu said and turned to leave. "Sorry, Natsu, guess this lead was a bust, but don't worry, you'll find Igneel someday," Gray said, patting his lover's shoulder. Natsu pulled Gray into a warm hug. "Thanks, Gray; that means so much," he said. The magic the man had cast was broken as the girls watched the intimate display between the two males. On further inspection, the girls saw Gray's body was marked with lots of love bites. The girls squealed and swayed in the scene. Bora got pissed that his magic was disrupted. "Hey, you two losers, get lost," he said. The girls turned on him in a flash and hit him hard, sending him flying. "Girls are scary; let's run," Natsu said, and he and Gray made a break for it. Lucy helped them escape by pulling them down an alley out of sight from the mob of fan girls. Lucy thanked them for saving her from Bora and treated them to dinner. Natsu, Gray, and Happy dug in, eating a large amount of food. Gray grabbed an apple and froze it solid. "Here, love," Gray said and tossed the apple, and Natsu swallowed it whole. "Delicious, as always, koi," Natsu said and kissed Gray, and the two began a tongue dance right in front of everyone in the restaurant. The dragon slayer's hand snaked around Gray's body and palmed the arousal in his boxers. Gray moaned into Natsu's mouth. "Wow, you two really are a hot couple," Lucy said, breaking them out of the lustful daze. Natsu continued to rub Gray's arousal through the boxers. "May I ask you a question?" Lucy asked. "Sure, go ahead," Natsu said, and Gray leaned onto Natsu's shoulder. "I've seen your guys' pictures in Sorcerer Magazine a lot, and I've noticed Gray is always naked with you covering him up a bit while you're fully dressed. So, why are you the one fully clothed, and Gray is always naked?" Lucy asked. "That's because he's too sexy for his own damn good. He's got a lot of males in the guild wanting him, and I don't need to deal with unnecessary love rivals that couldn't even handle me if they tried," Gray said, arching his back as Natsu squeezed his dick, and Gray lost it, cumming into his boxers. Lucy blushed. "Gray is willing to share me if the male is strong, and we have a strong connection. He doesn't like it when random guys try to flirt with me," Natsu said, pulling Gray into his lap. "He's very cute when he's jealous. He told me to remain in clothes during those photo shoots, even though his sexy ass is shown off for the world to see. He loves to show off my love bites on him," Natsu said, nibbling on his ear, having Gray moan hotly. One warm hand pinched one of Gray's nipples. "He's my sexy little ice bitch," Natsu said. "Fuck, Natsu!" Gray moaned and came again, his cum overflowing and spilling down his legs. The men in the restaurant passed out from nosebleeds. Lucy thought she was going to die from the intense action going on in front of her. "Well, thanks for before; I'll pay for your meal," Lucy said and paid for the meal and left. Natsu grinned, and Gray cuddled against Natsu. "Fuck, Natsu; that was so intense," Gray moaned and licked his lover's neck. Gray got serious and looked at his lover's eyes. "But you saw that weird guy's magic; he's using illegal magic," Gray said. "I saw; shall we take him out together?" Natsu said, and Gray nodded. "He may be worth something if we take him in. Guess this trip won't be a total loss," Natsu said. "Aye!" Natsu, Gray, and Happy finished eating and left to get Bora. To be continued. NEXT CHAPTER Chapter 3 I own no anime or cartoons and make no profit from my fan fiction. Warning: Yaoi Do Not Read If You Do Not Like Yaoi If you like yaoi, please read and review. Reviews help inspire new stories and give me the drive to work on others. Warning: Yaoi, Group Fetish Exhib Pairing: Natsu/Gray/Harem Part of my anti-uke club, harem project. Do not read if you do not like. Chapter 3: Fire N Ice Rage of the Dragon A little digging, and they found out that Bora was posing as a Fairy Tail wizard to draw in females. This pissed Natsu and Gray off big time. No one disgraced the name of Fairy Tail and got away with it. Lucy had been tracked down by Bora and was tricked into coming to his ship. The other girls were already drugged, and she was stripped of her keys. Natsu and Gray made it to the docks. "Ice Dragon Claw!" Natsu struck the water and froze the bay solid in ice, trapping the ship in thick ice. Natsu did it just in time, as Lucy's keys flew out the window and landed safely on the ice. "Beautiful work, love; now it's my turn. Ice Make Cannon," Gray said and fired from afar, blasting the ship with massive bullets of ice. "Keep it up, Gray; I'm gonna kick that Bora-bastard's ass," Natsu said. Natsu's feet became ice-like claws, and he ran across the ice in incredible speeds, reaching the ship. He dispelled his ice dragon claws and summoned his fire dragon talons. Bora's men were no match for the powerful flames. Between Natsu's attacks and Gray's cannon fire, the ship wouldn't be standing much longer. Happy dove in and rescued Lucy. "Lucy, the cavalry is here," the blue cat shouted, and Lucy grabbed Happy's paw, and Happy carried Lucy out of harm's way. "Not so fast," purplish fire formed at Bora's feet, and he flew after Happy, only to be punched by Natsu and sent flying back into the deck of his ship. "You little brat, do you know who I am? I'm a wizard of Fairy Tail!" Bora shouted. "Oh, really? Well, I'm Natsu of Fairy Tail, and I've never seen your lousy ass before," Natsu said, showing off the Fairy Tail mark. "Oh, shit, it's a real Fairy Tail wizard; damn it, who cares!" Bora thought, and sent a massive wave of flames at Natsu. Natsu devoured the flames with ease. "Wow, your flame is rank, and you call yourself a fire wizard," Natsu said, and wiped his chin. "Oh, well, a meal is a meal," he said. He slammed his fists together, creating a magic seal. His cheeks puffed up, and filled with fire. "Roar of the Fire Dragon!" A torrent of flames swept up Bora and his men and sent them, badly burned, flying off the ship. Lucy got her keys back, and she was talking to Natsu about joining Fairy Tail. Her distraction gave Bora enough time to combine his fire magic with his sleep magic. "Eat this, dragon slayer!" "Ice Hammer," Gray made an ice hammer and smashed Bora, smashing him through the ice into the freezing waters below. Gray was buck naked as he walked on the ice to his lover. "Really, Natsu; you should be more careful?" Natsu grinned, and pulled his naked lover into a warm embrace. "I love having you by my side; it lets me know I can go as wild as possible, and you'll always be here," Natsu said. The two started making out, and Lucy blushed. The two got hot and heavy, making Lucy very uncomfortable, while Happy grins. "They liiiiike each other," Happy said. Natsu kissed Gray's neck and began pumping his aching arousal. "Ohh, Natsu," Gray moaned. "Okay, enough already!" Lucy shouted, feeling very uncomfortable. "Really, if this gets your panties in a bunch, you'll never make it in Fairy Tail," Gray said, and Lucy froze. "You mean I get to join Fairy Tail?" Lucy asked, and Natsu and Gray looked at each other and nodded. Lucy jumped for joy, and Natsu went back to molesting Gray. A palace guard was passing by and saw Natsu molesting the ice mage out on the ice. He blew his whistle. "You there, stop; you are under arrest for public indecency," the guard said. "Whoops, time to go," Natsu said, and Gray and Happy ran off, followed by Lucy. The males couldn't wait to get back to Fairy Tail. To be continued. NEXT CHAPTER Chapter 4 I own no anime or cartoons and make no profit from my fan fiction. Warning: Yaoi Do Not Read If You Do Not Like Yaoi If you like yaoi, please read and review. Reviews help inspire new stories and give me the drive to work on others. Warning: Yaoi, Group Fetish Exhib Pairing: Natsu/Gray/Harem Part of my anti-uke club, harem project. Do not read if you do not like. Chapter 4: Daily Battle, the Competition for Natsu's Mark The group made it to Fairy Tail in record time. Lucy couldn't believe she was really here at Fairy Tail. Gray growled and made a bat out of ice. "Okay, let's do this!" The doors opened, and a group of men came running out. "Natsu has become my mate!" the males shouted in unison. Gray glared and started swinging his bat. "You bastards, get lost!" Lots of the guys went flying, and Natsu walked past as the guys faced off against Gray. Lucy looked confused. Mira came out and smiled at her. "It's always like this," she said, and got Natsu a glass of fire. Gray busted his ice bat, knocking out three guys at once. "Ice Make: Arrows," Gray fired a barrage of arrows, defeating more males trying to compete for Natsu's mark. Natsu watched the show, finding it cute that Gray was so jealous. Not all these guys were Fairy Tail wizards, mind you; some were challengers from other guilds. Makarov made it so someone from another guild could compete after a small fee, of course. Gray wasn't happy about that, but the fee did keep some men away, and the money went to the guild. Natsu did get a small cut of the profit, plus it was great practice taking on some of these newbies who thought they could win Natsu's mark. While Gray took out the rest of the non-guild men, Makarov approved Lucy for membership into Fairy Tail. The defeated Fairy Tail guild members took their seats, and Natsu gave them a pat on the back. "Better luck next time, guys," he said. It was down to Gray vs. Elfman. "Give it up, Elfman; Natsu is out of your league," Gray said, preparing to attack. "So you say, but as a man, I will not give up!" Elfman activated his Take Over magic, and his right fist changed into a yeti-like arm. Gray fired his Ice Lance attack, and Elfman blocked it with his arm. "I've come prepared this time, Gray; this time I will claim Natsu's mark." Gray glared at Elfman. "Don't get cocky, Elfman. Ice Make: Hammer," Gray fired a massive ice hammer, only to have it smashed by the yeti arm. Natsu watched the fight with interest. He did find Elfman very attractive and knew he would be a good mate, but he wouldn't take someone without Gray's permission. "He's a bit overprotective, don't you think?" Loke said, sitting down next to Natsu. "I think it's cute," Natsu said, and he grinned. Elfman tried to finish the fight, but that ended in his downfall. He got too close, and Gray was able to trap the rest of his body in ice. The ice broke, and Elfman fell back, defeated, his arm returning to normal. He grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Better luck next time, Elfman; good try," Natsu said, and gave a kiss to Elfman's cheek. Elfman blushed, and steam rose off his face. "As a man, I will not give up!" Elfman shouted, and Gray growled. Natsu kissed the grumbling man, easing his frustration. Oh well, I get to keep Natsu's mark all to myself, Gray thought. Gray and Natsu sat down, with Gray in Natsu's lap. The ice mage made out with his lover, much to the jealous glares of various males. To be continued.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: television Chapter 1: 4 Different Ways Rodney Goes Nuts (and Three of Them Are John's Fault) Author: Luxuria_Oceanus (LJ) Disclaimer: I don't own SGA or any of the characters in it, or else I'd be too busy turning what I write into my own personal reality. Rating: NC-17 Genre: Humor and Smut Pairing: McShep (Slash) Word count: 2840 (According to MW) Time line: Could be set some time after Season 3. Spoilers for S3's episode "Sunday" (I know why) and a tiny character spoiler for Season 4. A/N: This was recently posted in my live journal, so I wanted to see if I gave an AFF.net account a try. This is unbeta'd, so I hope I didn't put too many grammar mistakes (I did re-read it like 5 times) and I can actually say I did good on humor, at least. The smut? I don't know. My first time writing slash, we'll see! 1 - When People Who Are Supposed to Be Dead Don't Stay Dead Rodney stared at the image before him, his eyes as wide as crystals and his skin as pale as the dead. Unlike the person who was supposed to be dead. Carson Beckett stood in front of him, in the dark cell, waiting for the moment that Rodney exploded. "You're supposed to be dead," Rodney squeaked. Carson sighed, his eyebrows raised as he awaited to see if his dear friend had any more squeaks to let out. "Aye, Rodney, but I'm not." "No, no, you are. I saw you. You're dead. We had a funeral," Rodney continued, his voice shaking. Carson watched his friend pace back and forth in the small cell, muttering all the impossibilities of the situation, and he finally gave up trying to make him shut up. He just hoped whoever was going to rescue Rodney didn't have the same screw loose. Suddenly, Rodney stopped in front of him, his finger pointed directly at Carson's nose while he kept his lips pursed. "Hallucination! That's it! My oh-so-brilliant mind trying to keep me sane and alive by hallucinating while Sheppard figures out a way to get me out of here." "Rodney, no offense, but don't you think hallucinations are more likely signs of an unhealthy mind?" Carson asked, leaning his back on the wall. Rodney stepped back in horror. "You're right. You can't be a hallucination. Why would I be hallucinating you?" Carson barked at the comment as his friend continued to pace back and forth. "Sorry, but the last hallucination had more appeal." "Rodney, I am not a hallucination! Now stop thinking so loud, you're giving me a headache," Carson groaned, pressing his hand over his forehead. Rodney stopped pacing to look at Carson, a face convinced of the fact that Carson was more than just a ghost or hallucination. He added the term 'insane' to the equation. "What? You're hearing my thoughts now? Very appropriate for a hallucination," Rodney mocked, his voice a little frantic. Carson walked up to Rodney, who moved back instinctively until his back met the wall, and pinched him. "OW! What'd you do that for?" Rodney yelled, grabbing his arm. "I am NOT a hallucination! You don't think I'd tell you if I was?" Rodney didn't even think about it as he kept holding on to his arm. "No!" Carson groaned in defeat. "For God's sake, Rodney, would you please believe me?" Rodney didn't even think about it. "Maybe, if you start by telling me how you're alive, Mr. Not a Hallucination." Carson sighed. "I don't know." Rodney's eyes lit up. "HA!" Carson gave him a glare and scoffed. "If you want to talk about impossibilities, let's not exclude the image of a naked Colonel Sheppard popping into your head every so often!" Rodney's eyes widened, since it was true that he did think of John whenever impending doom was close by, and he squeaked again. "You *are* my hallucination!" 2 - When Sexual Frustration Reaches Its Peak and It's All John's Fault, Really Sexual frustration was not Rodney's friend. Not that Rodney couldn't get any. He got some. A lot. From his hand, in particular. His hand was his friend, his very dear friend, but Rodney's hand wanted something else to grab, or rather, someone else. John Sheppard. At first, the good Colonel just gave Rodney a good reason to do hand exercises, but now Rodney's going mad. Sexually insane, and it's all John's fault. John, who keeps hooking up with every female alien who bats her eyelashes at him thanks to his little Captain Kirk complex. John, who keeps giving him that little dimpled grin that just makes Rodney want to do all sorts of things to him that haven't even been invented yet. John, who keeps training with Ronon, sweating, groaning, yelling... and THAT's what made him reach the peak of his insanity. What used to be night dreams of John Sheppard blowing him had become night dreams of John Sheppard being fucked by Ronon Dex. Is every existent galaxy mocking him? Torturing him? For being smarter than everyone else? He needs sex. He needs John. If they have any intention of him saving any more lives or keeping Atlantis in one piece, they'd give him John Sheppard, on a silver platter, gay or not. "Rodney," a voice asked. Rodney's head suddenly jumped up to realize he was in a meeting with Sam Carter, Teyla, Ronon, and John. He looked around blankly, still a little dazed by his previous thoughts. Sam had been the one to call him. "Hmm," he asked, pretending to play it cool. "I asked you what you thought about P90-SR00's technology?" Sam asked. Rodney's mind was completely wiped clean of any technological knowledge and busy with the 'other' thoughts. "It's good," he stated. "Good? McKay, you okay," John noticed something was wrong with Rodney as soon as the word 'good' left his mouth. He knew Rodney well enough to know that wasn't his real answer. He'd say something like, 'Cavemen would point their fingers and laugh,' about the planet's technology. Rodney met John's eyes and was instantly reminded of the dream where Ronon fucked John's mouth mercilessly. Rodney stood up in alarm, looked down at Teyla, who was sitting next to him, and grabbed her mouth, kissing her fiercely for 2 good seconds before stopping. "HA!" He yelled, pointing a finger at John. He looked around in horror, realizing what he had just done and how everyone was looking at him, especially Teyla, who seemed torn between hurting him or checking to see if he was okay. "I'm going to go see Dr. Heightmeyer," Rodney said, and without a second thought, he left, with the full intention of telling Dr. Heightmeyer how John Sheppard was screwing with his mental health. 3 - When One of Rodney's 'Red' Movies Goes Missing and It's John's Fault, Again! Rodney McKay was in his room, sitting on the bed with the laptop on his lap. A few moments ago, he'd been at the lab when John had popped in, and Rodney just had to leave. He still hadn't forgiven the Colonel for letting him get a bullet in his butt. "C'mon, Rodney, bullet wounds are manly." "Yeah, right, a few inches to the left, and I would've lost my MANhood!" Although Rodney still didn't hate the good Colonel, nope, the man could get him shot in all the body parts Rodney had available, and he would still want him. Rodney heard a knock on his door. He groaned as he stopped his valuable work, consisting of ways to try to conserve ZPM energy. "Someone better be about to die!" "Dr. McKay? It's Major Lorne," the voice said. Rodney cocked an eyebrow in wonder as he mouthed, 'Lorne?' He got up from his bed to open the door and saw Major Lorne, looking as good as ever in his uniform, but not quite as good as John. But John wasn't there. "Hey, Colonel Sheppard told me you have a stack of movies, I was wondering if maybe I could borrow one?" Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh, he did, did he? Okay, red or blue?" Lorne stared at him blankly. "Uh, what?" Okay, so John didn't tell him about those movies. Rodney did have a stack of movies, most of them bootlegged copies that he stored in alphabetical order in little paper CD cases (like envelopes, but a nicer fit). The blue ones were all kinds of movies, but the red ones were just pure porn. "Never mind," he said with a wave of his hand as he invited Lorne in, who just shrugged as he watched Rodney crouch down in front of a bookcase full of DVDs. "Which one do you want?" "Do you have 'The Notebook'?" Rodney looked up at Lorne in horror. "What? Hey, you'd be surprised what that movie does to women," Lorne said with a shrug. "I'm slightly less curious about what it does for you. Nope, don't have it, but I could get it for you on a later date. Anything else in mind?" "Got anything that guarantees a lay?" Rodney snorted. "I'm surprised you need a movie to help you with that." "Hey, it's Cadman, she's not easy to break," Lorne whined. The corners of Rodney's mouth turned up as he grabbed a DVD and handed it to Lorne. "Splendor," Lorne asked, curiously. "Trust me, that'll work," Rodney insisted, looking over his stack and he noticed there was a gap in his red stack, letter R. He figured he probably left it at the lab, and everyone there knew not to touch anything of his. "O-kay. Well, hey, are you heading to the lounge? I heard John was going to put 'Robin Hood' for Teyla and Ronon to watch." Rodney stood up. "No, I have to-" Suddenly he stopped, his face freezing into the 'Oh-my-God' expression as he kneeled down in front of the bookcase. He didn't have the movie "Robin Hood," and while it was possible someone who isn't him has it, he doubted it was a coincidence that the missing porn movie starts with an R, that he did remember having titled 'Robin Hood' since it involves a lot of men in tights and a 'Cockwood Forest.' "Oh my GOD!" He didn't even look behind him to see if Lorne was following him, but once he stood a few feet outside the lounge, he didn't have to, because Lorne was standing behind him, trying to see what apocalyptic event had Rodney sweating now. Rodney didn't need to have telescopic vision to see that what the team was watching was definitely not Kevin Costner or Cary Elwes. "Whoa, that's," Lorne tilted his head to the side, "Interesting." Rodney covered his face with his palms as he groaned. He's going to kill him. Definitely going to kill John Sheppard. Somehow. Someway. Someday. He looked through his fingers to scan the room again. Ronon didn't look that disturbed, Teyla's head was tilted (probably trying to figure out how three men can do THAT), and oh GOD, even Sam was there, her eyes a little wider than Rodney would like. Great, now everyone in Atlantis would officially know he was gay. Well, the only 10% that don't already know. And John... John's looking at Rodney! His hand over his mouth, and Rodney didn't need him to lower his hand to know John's smiling. "If anyone asks, I'm in Dr. Heightmeyer's office," he groaned, and thought silently, 'Contemplating on suicide or homicide.' 4 - When Cadman Gives John Some of Her 'Toys' and Rodney Becomes the Colonel's Own Personal Playground Rodney was lying on the bed, naked, hands above his head, handcuffed in pink fuzzy cuffs, and John made sure to have the chain tied to something so that Rodney didn't try to move his arms. His legs were separated too and tied to the feet of the bed with sheets because the cuffs wouldn't reach that far. "Hmmm," he heard John say, but didn't see him, thanks to Cadman's padded leather blindfold. Rodney was officially convinced; the woman was a freak. "What," asks Rodney, trying to keep his panic in check. "Just reading," John said, as he sat naked on the floor, a black trash bag on the floor next to him as he read the label on a very peculiar box. "Oh, okay, so I'll just lie here fucking the air while you READ," Rodney barked. "Patience, McKay, all comes to those who wait," John said with a dimpled grin that Rodney didn't have to see to know it was there. "Well, I'm sorry if my butt's freezing from all the patient lying," Rodney muttered. "I think I found something to warm it up," John said, finally kneeling on the bed, in between Rodney's openly stretched legs. "What," Rodney asked, and it made him hate the fact he let John talk him into wearing a blindfold. Whips, paddles, chains, handcuffs; that he could do, but not being able to see what his lover's planning... that, he's beginning to have trouble with. John opened the box as he read, "Domestic Partner Ass Force One. Domestic Partner Army, Navy, and Air Force dildos have been designed with anal pleasure in mind and are guaranteed to please even the most hard-core butts." Rodney swallowed hard. "My ass is hard-core?" John's smile widened as he applied some lube to the plug. "Take it from someone who's been there, buddy, your ass is very hard-core." "Hmmm," Rodney smiled, and then moaned when he felt John push the butt plug into his ass. "Ohhh." John smiled as he watched Rodney's cock shoot a little bit of precum, so he bent down to lick the head. He moved back when Rodney tried to thrust his cock into John's mouth. "Now, what'd I say about patience, Rodney?" "That it's not your friend," Rodney asked, almost pleading. "Okidoky." John leaned forward again, but this time kept one hand over Rodney's stomach to keep him down while his other hand worked on Rodney's new butt friend. Rodney's breathing was hitched, hard, as he felt John's tongue trail a perfect line on the base of his cock. He moaned even louder when John took him in, not completely, but far enough, and the butt plug wasn't making things easy for him. Rodney's moans soon became whimpers as he tried to push his hips up, his cock into John's mouth, but John had a very firm hand on Rodney's stomach, letting his mouth do with Rodney what it does oh so very well. "John," Rodney croaked, and John knew what this meant, so he pulled out the butt plug and gave Rodney's cock a few more licks before stopping. "John?" John smiled, as he (unlike Rodney) had full control of his hard-on and intended to make sure Rodney didn't come without him. He moved onto Rodney's chest, teasing his nipples with his fingers before he let his tongue do circles around them. "Do you get some twisted sick pleasure out of getting my balls blue," Rodney hissed. "Me? No," John said, giving a mock tone of amazement to his confession before he bit into Rodney's nipple lightly. "Oh, that's going to leave a bruise," Rodney moaned. "I know," John admitted, giving it a little wet kiss before moving onto the one place he was intending to go to all along, Rodney's lips. The kiss was hungry, angry, and that's why John liked to build him up. Teasing Rodney turned him into the perfect kisser, desperate and hungry, sucking and biting, all the things that should always be included in a kiss. John let his cock rub itself against Rodney's, making the man whimper inside John's mouth. "I'm going to fuck you now, Rodney," John whispered low into his ear. Rodney groaned, "Took you long enough." John moved back to untie Rodney's legs, and he almost considered untying his arms, but he decided not to. He grabbed the lube again, giving his cock a good coat before pressing the tip over Rodney's ass hole. He left some in his hand, knowing he planned to use it once he was in. He put his arms under Rodney's legs, lifting him for easy entry, and then pushed himself fully with one solid thrust. He sees Rodney biting his lower lip, and he knows it must have taken the man's whole strength not to have come right then and there. He keeps his thrusts slow and steady, feeling Rodney's walls tightening around his cock, forcing him to reach his orgasm faster, and it makes him wonder if Rodney is doing it on purpose. He turns Rodney on his side, so that he is sitting on one of Rodney's legs while holding the other open with one arm, still thrusting in and out, and Rodney is moaning his name now with a very fervent need. His moans are all John needs to come, and he knows Rodney is already about to blow, so he takes his free hand, the one he had made sure to keep coated with lube, and starts stroking Rodney while fucking him. "John, I don't think I'm going to last," Rodney moans, "if you keep doing that." "That's the point," John says, picking up the pace. That's all Rodney needs to hear when he comes in the Colonel's hand, and after three swift thrusts, John joins him, his cum spilling out of Rodney's ass. They take a moment to actually breathe before John even moves. He reaches for a towel they had laid out on the floor and cleans up the mess he made in Rodney's ass before he cleans his own hand and reaches to pull off Rodney's blindfold. "Cadman is a very good woman," Rodney chokes. John grins, leaning on his side next to Rodney, his hand on Rodney's stomach. "She is special," John admits. "John," Rodney asks, "the cuffs?" "What about them?" John asks. "I'm still in them," Rodney notes, turning and lifting his head to look at John. "So," John asks teasingly. "I thought - didn't we - I mean, aren't we -" "Done? No, there are still a few boxes left to open. I kind of liked the sound of the Domestic Partner Dildo Detonator," he says with a very cocky grin. Rodney groans as he lets his head hit the pillow and closes his eyes. "I'm going to kill Cadman."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: television Chapter 1: 4 Way Power Fun It was the first day of summer, and Kim and Kat were lounging by Kat's pool with Ashley and Cassie. It was a godsend that they were able to find some downtime between their hobbies, college, high school, and their ranger duties to just relax. They were laid out on the lounge chairs, not talking much, simply enjoying the peace, when Kat felt something on her leg. She opened her eyes to see Kim on her immediate right, trailing her fingers up her leg, getting higher and higher by the second. Kat silently panicked and immediately checked to see if Ashley, on her left, was seeing this, but she had her eyes closed. Kat turned back to Kim, who was pleading with her eyes for them to go inside; her small fingers making it abundantly clear what she wanted. Kat shook her head and jerked it towards their friends, hoping to remind Kim that they had company at that moment. Kim, however, was not to be deterred. "Hey Kat, I need some more suntan lotion. Do you have an extra bottle?" she asked. Kat bit her lip, and Kim pressed her fingers against her inner thigh by way of insisting. "I think so, let's go check. Be right back, guys," Kat replied. "Take your time," Cassie said lazily. "Yup, more rays for us," Ashley smiled. The two hopped up and nearly ran back into the house, making it as far as the living room before collapsing onto the couch and making out. The ties on their bikinis came off easily, and soon they were naked, grinding on each other erotically. Kim groaned appreciatively as Kat cupped her breast, sucking on the nipple firmly. She maneuvered the petite brunette to lay on top of her, giving her hands complete freedom to roam all over her body while she nipped and sucked at her neck. Her fingers gently probed Kim's folds, finding them slick. "Mmm, someone is worked up," she whispered in Kim's ear. "What can I say? My girlfriend is hot," Kim replied. They giggled together, and Kat slid out from underneath Kim to kneel between her legs. "Allow me to help, then," Kat said, her breath caressing the sensitive inner skin, the only warning she'd give before spreading Kim open and licking her devilishly. Kat's tongue glided easily over the moist skin, toying with that sensitive nub before going deeper into her, curling inside her, and making Kim arch up in ecstasy. Back outside, Cassie and Ashley had been watching Kim and Kat with an air of intent. The minute the two girls disappeared, they looked at each other with mischievous smiles. Cassie scooted over closer to Ashley, dragging a hand up the yellow ranger's body to her breasts, circling one of her nipples that was hardening underneath her bikini top. Ashley responded by letting the tips of her fingers tease that little space between Cassie's closed thighs. Thankfully, the hedges blocked them from the view of any neighbors, but they were still wary of being caught. "Inside?" Ashley proposed. "But they're in the house," Cassie reminded her. "Where can we go?" "Let's tell them we need to run over to my place to get something," Ashley suggested, sweetening her idea by pinching Cassie's nipple and then rubbing the same breast. "Works for me," Cassie agreed immediately. They both went inside, only to be greeted by the sound of Kim moaning, clearly erotically. Shock and lust ran through them, and they quietly moved to peek into the living room, rewarded with the sight of Kat in between Kim's legs, eating her out. "Kat, oh God, please," Kim panted. "Fuck, that's good." "Come for me, baby," Kat ordered, sucking Kim's clit, her tongue brushing it. "More! I need more!" Kim begged. "Like this?" Kat asked, laving her tongue over the entire area. "Fuck yes, put your tongue back inside of me, please," Kim whimpered. Kat smirked and toyed with her a bit before giving her what she wanted. Kim nearly screamed, gripping the couch cushion for dear life. As this was happening, Ashley turned Cassie to lean against the doorway, both of them still watching the others at it. Indicating to be quiet, Ashley knelt down and undid the ties holding Cassie's bikini bottom. It fell away, and Ashley made Cassie widen her stance so she could get closer. Using the doorway as a brace, Cassie lowered herself just enough that Ashley's mouth could reach her. Ashley held her in place and focused her attention on the clit, sucking and tugging. Cassie clamped a hand over her mouth, her gaze alternating between Ashley on the floor and her friends getting off on the couch. Kim was racing towards the edge, her pants and cries arousing everyone present, and Cassie felt her end coming. She tried to get Ashley to stop, but she wouldn't move away. Holding her mouth tighter, she watched as Kim's body convulsed and her head flew back with a hot scream. Listening to the girl come so hard, Cassie's eyes rolled back as she let her own orgasm take over, their partners pushing them through it. Kim got up and pushed Kat to the ground, quickly working her way down for her own taste. Ashley stood up, and Cassie wasted no time switching places and falling to her knees. "Oh, Kim," Kat moaned, distracting Ashley, so she wasn't prepared for Cassie diving right into her. Ashley managed to keep her mouth shut, but her legs nearly buckled under the shockwaves. Cassie aggressively worked her tongue, making it hard for Ashley to stay silent and standing. She looked down at Cassie pleadingly, but the Asian girl let up. She heard Kat say breathlessly, "Kim...use your fingers..." only to be jolted by Cassie's fingers pushing into her. Unaware of the audience, Kat was ready to explode. Every inch of her skin was heated in a way that the sun never could, and her belly was rapidly tightening like a wound-up spring. Kim's mouth and fingers were sinful and skilled, attacking her clit and hitting her G-spot in just the right pattern. Suddenly, Kim twisted her tongue as if to wrap it around her clit, sending Kat straight over the edge. With Katherine's cries of pleasure driving her, it took mere seconds for Ashley to come. She strained not to cry out, but when Cassie began to work her fingers inside quickly, she had to give in. Her whole body wrenched and heaved, Cassie not stopping until she was spent. When she finally opened her eyes, Ashley saw Kim and Kat watching her and realized that they had been caught, but found she couldn't care less. "Having fun, you two?" Kim asked, getting up. "We could ask you the same thing," Cassie countered, also standing. "When did you guys get together?" "Almost a year now," Kat answered. "You?" "Couple of months," Ashley replied offhandedly. "Well, this is a strange turn of events," Kat noted. "Yeah, but actually kind of hot," Ashley pointed out, to general agreement. "Still, you know it's rude to spy," Kim said, crossing her arms. Cassie smirked impishly, "We could always return the favor. Wanna watch?" "What do you think?" Kim looked at Kat, who shrugged. "Can't see why not. Ash?" "I'm in," Ashley nodded. Kat pointed to the stairs, "My bedroom awaits.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 4400 Change of Season Chapter 1: Change of Season Shawn had been lurking in the next room and came out as soon as Isabelle had left. Jordan didn't look too proud when he answered, staring at a void in the mid-distance. "She said she wanted to be good, do good things." The uncertainty in Jordan's expression was unsettling, especially on a man who used to always be so sure of himself. "But you didn't believe her, right?" There was a hint of incredulity mixed with relief in Shawn's voice. Jordan kept silent and was still not meeting his eyes. If this sudden unease was about ridding them of Isabelle, Shawn wasn't going to let him feel bad about it. "You did us all a service, Jordan. She wouldn't listen to anyone. Not me, not Richard... What did you tell her?" "I told her," Jordan drew in a breath and jerked his chin up a notch, the added solemnity a marked somber note in his tone, "I told her she could never change." "Is that what you saw?" Jordan gave an empty scoff at Shawn's earnest questioning. "No." He was shaking his head now, allowing himself to really look at Shawn and Shawn alone. He hadn't had time, when Baldwin's wife did her trick, to appreciate what the kid could do to him; time to take it in, measure it, make any sense of it at all. "Well, what did you see?" It was happening now, and the high almost made Jordan smile, but it was a half-grin tainted with vertigo, maybe fear. "She stayed with you," he said, because he was done lying for this lifetime. "She didn't stand in the way." "Alright," Shawn nodded. "So," he wasn't sure what to say anymore, he wasn't even sure he had cared for any answer, but he blindly put his faith in Jordan, "what happens now?" Like always. For once, not even Jordan had any precise idea. It could go ten thousand different ways from there. Shawn believing him was the only quasi-certainty. "I don't know." These were words Jordan wasn't used to saying, and his voice almost faltered, but no, he managed to keep it level. He remembered Shawn's hands on him, could still feel them radiating warmth and clutching at his shirt, not wanting to let go. "I've missed you," the boy said with another sigh of relief. Jordan had never meant to deceive, never intended to leave him. He could still hear the screams from when he collapsed under the rain of bullets; the loudest ones, the most distressed, distinctly Shawn's. He had to say it quick, before the images blurred with his own confused memories, because he owed Shawn the truth. He owed everyone the truth. "Isabelle made you happy." The kid just wouldn't hear it. "No, she didn't," he shook his head. "I didn't even want to get married." Shawn was shaking his head still, and his lips were twisted in a shape that let Jordan appreciate how absurd he thought all of this was. "Damnit, Jordan! You'll make me happier." Now, he remembered it all, how the boy dedicated himself to the cause, how much he had trusted him; and most of all, how his presence filled him with what felt like endless hope. Shawn's words still echoed in the stretching silence, and if Jordan hadn't acknowledged them yet, it was because nothing he should have said in response seemed to make any real sense. What he wanted didn't matter, and he wasn't even sure what that was. But the boy was taking tentative steps forward, towards him, and Jordan caught himself fighting an imperceptible smile. It boggled his mind. All this time wandering, walking the ever-hostile worlds and wading through oceans of doubt so deep, wondering who he was, where he was meant to be, what he was meant to do; the answer couldn't be so simple. He had thousands, maybe millions of followers now - he couldn't let them see weakness in him; but one mattered more than all of them together, because he couldn't remember if and when before he had felt such an overpowering sense of home. The hesitant squeeze he felt brought him out of his thoughts; the hands resting on his back, the whispers just below his ear as Shawn repeated, "You make me happier," and Jordan couldn't tell if those were sobs shaking the boy, or if he was just giggling in silence. As he hugged back and held on, the pictures in the paper still didn't mean much. They faded, like he suspected many other things eventually would. He didn't clear his throat before speaking, and so his voice was a little hoarse when he said, "I hope I will, Shawn. I hope." Change had been initiated, the fight begun, and nothing appeared so clear and sure to Jordan anymore; but Shawn was holding onto him for dear life, now; and this intimacy, at once new and familiar, it was suddenly everything. Endless hope. It was all he had anymore, and it was enough, because it meant everything, now. It was endearing how convinced Shawn was, but Jordan had seen, and the twinge of sadness belied only by his eyes had to be far more convincing. "No, Shawn," it left no room for debate. "She made you happy." Shawn was shaking his head still, and his lips were twisted in a shape that let Jordan appreciate how absurd he thought all of this was. "Damnit, Jordan! You'll make me happier."
This is a fanfic story. Genre: harry_potter Chapter 1 Hermione rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Hannah Abbott was begging Malfoy, "Just once, I want to feel you." Hermione felt sick. Draco had his back against the wall, and it was Hannah who seemed to be the aggressor. Hermione found her voice, "Hannah, what are you doing?" Her friend looked at her and smiled dreamily. "He's so beautiful," Hermione felt nauseous. Was she hexed? As far as she could tell, Hannah's eyes weren't glazed over. In fact, they seemed to be alive with emotion. Hermione couldn't believe what she was witnessing. Hannah dismissed Hermione's presence and turned her attention back to the wizard. "Please..." She begged, and Draco held her at arm's length. A smirk turned into a smug smile, "Now, now, Hannah, what about your boyfriend?" Hannah was adamant, "He doesn't feel like you, and..." the young witch cooed, "...he doesn't have to know." Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed Hannah and pulled her away, "What are you doing?" She hissed, "Neville loves you, and I thought..." Hannah's eyes became wild, and she sneered, "Well, that shows how clever you are!" Hermione recoiled and let her go. Hannah was acting like someone on heat. Hannah ran to Draco, who shook his head. He raised his hands in a feigned surrender. Hermione looked like she was going to faint when Hannah dropped to her knees in front of him, "I can please you." Hermione was incensed, "Stop it, Draco." He looked smugly at her, "I'm not doing that much to her, Granger. Can I help it..." The noise of his fly being undone caused him to look down. He grabbed Hannah's hands, "You've done it now, Abbott." Hermione noticed his arousal and gulped, "Damn it, Draco, what do you want?" His answer stunned her, "You instead of Hannah, or Hannah... You know," he became thoughtful, "We should go outside to the greenhouse, Abbott, and..." Hermione put her hand on her forehead, "Please don't do this to him." Draco smirked, "Well, that's not up to me, is it?" He took Hannah by the hand. They were at the base of the heads' dorm. "Let's go," Hermione grabbed him, "No, wait... I'll..." Draco smiled slightly, "Well, Granger, you'll give me 48 hours on oath. Would you witness it for me, Hannah?" Hermione cringed at the response, "Anything for you, Draco." He uttered the password, "After you, Granger." Hermione was shaking as she ascended the stairs. She turned around and tried one last time to plead with her friend, "Hannah?..." Draco stopped Hermione with a sudden kiss. It had happened so quickly that it took a moment to register his grip on the base of her skull. Her hair was entwined in his fingers. Steel grey eyes blazed into hers, "You agreed." Hermione closed her own eyes and nodded. She felt him grab her hand. He literally pulled her up the stairs. All of a sudden, Hannah started crying. Hermione's hopefulness of a reprieve, however, was short-lived. "Draco, take me," Hannah begged, and Draco smirked, "No, Hannah, just want a witness." Hannah shot Hermione a venomous look, "...but she doesn't even want you." Draco still had hold of Hermione's hand, and he pulled her into his body. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, locking her into position, "Oh, yes, she does." Hermione was shaking, "No, I can't possibly..." She bit her bottom lip, and Draco couldn't hide his pleasure. That lip thing always meant she was thinking. She did it whenever she was in a predicament. "Now, Hannah, you have less than an hour to catch the Hogwarts Express. So, how about you do me a favor and let's get this done?" Hannah nodded. He kissed Hermione gently on the neck, and sniggered when she near buckled. Hermione's eyes widened in shock, and Draco breathed into her ear, "Good to see I have no effect, Granger." He gently released her and stood back. Only then did Hermione seem to regain some composure. It took a second or two for her to steady her breathing, and when she spoke, it was a near whisper, "I've never had to give an oath." He smirked, "Just follow my lead." The next few moments were a blur, although she remembered stating it would be just the two of them. "Oh, Granger, you won't need anyone more than me, and I have no intention of sharing." He led Hermione to the couch, and she sat shell-shocked. Hermione watched him lead Hannah down the stairs. She drew a breath as she heard the telltale "Obliviate." Hermione was frowning when he returned into the Head's common room. He knelt before her, eyes searching hers. To his surprise, she spoke, "Why did you do that for Neville?" Draco lifted her chin and gave her a feathery kiss on the lips. He smiled, "Did you like that?" He watched her confusion, and a pained expression seemed to flash across his face. He stood up quickly and started to pace. "Don't fight this, Granger." Hermione visibly cringed, "I was only asking... It just seemed..." "Nice?" Draco answered for her, and Hermione nodded. He knelt before her again and kissed her, "Such passion should not be wasted..." he whispered into her lips. "Besides, why shouldn't Neville get a memorable Christmas present?" His hands held her head into position. His eyes were triumphant, "I know I am." She fought tears, and in an almost inaudible voice, said, "There's no way out." Draco groaned and kissed her with such force that she fell back into the cushions. He spread her legs, still kissing her hard, and placed himself between her thighs. He grabbed both knees and scooped her legs up over his shoulders. He placed himself hard up against her womanhood and leaned forward. Pinning her shoulders with his arms, he held her head with his hands. He kept her in that position for a minute or two, and they held each other's gaze. Suddenly, he relented a little. Then, just as unexpectedly, slammed his pelvis into hers. Hermione felt like he was going to snap her in half. Everything about him brokered no argument. "Now, Granger, this can happen in one of two ways. I don't care if I wreck you, but I'd prefer not. I know I'm not your first, so it's up to you. Mean or nice, I will enjoy myself." Hermione spoke softly, "I don't want to be wrecked." Draco got up and smiled. Hermione didn't have any time to compose herself as Draco had grabbed her hand. She found herself being led to the 'Slytherin Sex God's' bedroom. She had heard stories and hoped for the life of her they weren't true. Hermione's nerves weren't helped when he led her to the foot of his bed. The bed was unnaturally big. "That's not the only thing that is," Hermione jumped; the bastard was using his skills as a Legilimus. Draco smiled. "How did you think I know you want me, Granger? All those dreams..." Hermione paled. He gave her a surprisingly tender embrace. He smiled as he released her. His tone, though, was anything but friendly, "As I said, Granger, enjoy it, I know I will"... "and I know you want to." Hermione nodded, feeling well and truly beaten, when Draco produced a blindfold. She couldn't hide her shock. "What...?" He stopped her with a glare. "You agreed." As the blindfold went on, Hermione felt herself shudder. She felt his lips on hers, and he whispered, "Take off your cloak and drop it to the ground." Hermione's hands shook as she conformed. Draco took a couple of steps back to enjoy the show. He was grateful he had thought of using the blindfold. He knew he was grinning like a madman. Finally, she was his. He was so hard; he had to take a deep breath before he spoke again. "Well, Granger, keep going like a good girl." His sarcastic tone caused Hermione to jump slightly, and Draco watched the Gryffindor Princess reveal herself. "Stop at your panties and bra." She stood there before him and looked like a goddess. He didn't say a word and watched her embarrassment with amusement. Her choice of burgundy lace had been a spur-of-the-moment choice, and Hermione's skin color currently matched her lingerie. Draco slowly covered the distance between them. She knew he was close. She could feel his heat. Lips softly kissed hers. He wasn't touching her in any other way, and she felt her body melt. She cursed its treacherous response. She was so wet. He kissed her neck, and she heard the fly of his trousers being opened. "On your knees..." Hermione wanted to protest, but she knew better. She couldn't stop a whimper from escaping as she knelt before him. The noise angered him, "No, Granger... No mercy... I won't tell you again... Either you play nice or pay the price." He grabbed the back of her head with one hand and his manhood with the other. "Hold still." Hermione felt something on her lips, and Draco left her no doubt what was expected, "Now, Granger, just do as I say, and I'll only use two instead of three holes." Hermione nodded. "Now, lick the top like an ice cream." She licked and was surprised when she encountered a sticky substance. "It's called pre-come, Granger, lick it up." Hermione felt herself starting to burn. She was on fire and craved the feel of him. She began the blowjob without prompting, and Draco groaned, "Good girl, Granger..." His passion became too much, and he pulled her head away, an involuntary protest escaping. She heard him chuckle, "Patience." Suddenly, he was kissing her, and she realized he must have knelt. "Now, finish what you started." He guided her head back onto his penis, and she almost instantly had him back to the throws of passion. "Granger, you're fucking unbelievable..." He shuddered violently. "Swallow." He held his manhood and, after the initial release, was able to stem the flow enough so it was more manageable. "Well done, you didn't waste much." Draco asked, just as Hermione felt his lips on hers. She cried out as he bit her lip, "How many of them have you done?" Hermione shook, and even though she wanted to yell it, her voice came out as a squeak, "None." Grabbing her upper arm, he stood, forcing her to her feet. He pushed her to the side of the bed and roughly shoved her onto it. "Don't lie to me!" He hissed, and Hermione pleaded her innocence, "I'm not... I don't know what's wrong with me." She was trembling, and Draco suddenly seemed incredulous. "You're burning for me, aren't you? And I've barely touched you... yet." She felt his weight beside her on the bed. She nodded, and she knew tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn't believe it herself, but at the moment, she was grateful for the blindfold. Draco rolled atop of her and kissed her in the middle of her forehead. "Hermione Granger, you give one hell of a blow job... Sit up... I want another..." She complied, and within minutes, Draco cursed her. He had come too quickly. "Damn it, Granger." He grabbed her head and pulled her up so they were face to face. "Put your arms around me." They were both sitting on the bed, on their knees, facing each other. Draco had spread Hermione's knees with his, and he moaned at the sight. He kissed her deeply and used one of his hands to pull the panties across her, exposing the lips surrounding her womanhood. He felt himself harden at the thought of it and resisted the urge to look. He needed to slow himself down, so he placed that hand on her thigh. She would beg for it, and he had plenty of time. With his other hand, he traced her spine with his finger, unclasping her bra as he went. His mouth had been feathering her body with kisses. Every shudder he evoked made him harder, and by the time he got to focus on her womanhood, he felt he was going to burst. He groaned as his two fingers slipped in easily, "You're so wet, Granger..." He rubbed her clit and broke off the kiss. Using his mouth, he feathered her face with kisses. He smiled deviously as he lowered his head, still working her womanhood. Hermione couldn't focus on anything other than his two fingers inside her. She was oblivious to all else until she felt her bra straps being lowered, one by one. He hungrily claimed her nipple, and she tightened her grip both around his shoulders and his fingers. When he pinched her other nipple, she arched her back and cried out. "Now, Granger," his voice husky from emotion, "Tell me you don't want it." He kept one hand pleasuring her womanhood but relented on her aroused nipples. Using the arm that had just been busy with her breasts, he snaked it up her spine, gripping the nape of her neck. He pulled her to him and once again claimed her lips. The intensity of Hermione's building orgasm had her clasping her muscles around his fingers, and he waited for her release. "Tell me, Hermione," he used breath to torment her nipples, and she shuddered violently. "Do you want me?" He kissed her shoulder, "Yes." He barely heard her, but that smile was back on his face. "Louder, and say it in a sentence." Hermione took a deep breath as he kept up the rhythmic assault with his fingers. He kissed her left nipple, and he felt her whole body respond. His voice relayed his impatience, "Well, say it!" Hermione Granger breathlessly uttered a sentence that would change her life forever, "Yes, I want you... I want you inside me... Please, Draco." He removed his fingers. She hadn't been satisfied, and she found her eyes pleading as the blindfold was unexpectedly removed. His smirk was justified. She was raw with passion. "Don't worry, Granger, there's more... But since you asked so sweetly... Let's do this properly." Draco looked at her, and sadly smiled at her confusion. "Come on, Hermione." He got off the bed and scooped her in his arms. He kissed her lips gently as he placed her onto the pillows. He stood back from the bed and removed his cloak. "I got to watch you; now you watch me." It was said lightheartedly enough, but Hermione sensed the danger. There were no in-betweens. Playing nice would mean not turning her gaze from him. She watched as he stripped down, and he was everything she had thought and more. To say he was athletic didn't do him justice. He was breathtaking, and he knew it. He smiled at her obvious approval. Silent approval wasn't enough; he wanted her to tell him what was written all over her features. "Come on, Granger." He removed his shoes with a flick of his wand and stood completely naked in front of her. "Tell me what you think." Hermione's mouth suddenly felt dry. "You're as good-looking as you think you are," was all she could manage, and Draco joined her on the bed. "Now, that's impossible..." He ran his finger down her cheek. "No one's that good-looking." She smiled despite herself. He kissed her, pushing her head back on the pillows. He lay down beside her, and she groaned as she felt his hand between her legs. He smirked as he ripped her panties off. She watched his eyes; they were smoldering so much they reminded her of liquid metal. He kissed her lips, breaking eye contact. A devious smile appeared as lips as he looked down the length of her body. "Time to return the favor." She shuddered as he kissed each breast. Her heart was pounding when he reached her stomach. Kissing her belly button and inner thighs, she groaned quietly as he spread her legs. Placing himself between them, he gently licked her opening and stopped suddenly. Hermione frowned, and he reassured her, "Don't worry, my love... It's just that you taste... exquisite." He groaned, his voice filled with emotion. He plunged his tongue deep inside her and spread her opening with his fingers, using his breath to tease her clitoris. Hermione arched her back as he threw one arm around her stomach and pinned her hips to the bed. He moaned, "You're so wet and..." He kissed her thigh, then gave it a little nip. Suddenly, he was fervently kissing her lips, holding her gaze as she writhed in desire underneath him. "Tell me again, Granger," he whispered. He cupped her right buttock, and she felt his erection on her stomach. The touch of it seemed different, but she was so far gone that she didn't care at the moment. She was on fire, and her voice trembled as she begged, "Please, Draco, I want you." She barely registered his entry as his mouth clamped onto her shoulder and he bit her. She cried out in shock and quivered, the pain intense. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized what this meant. Then he expanded inside her, and his organ began pulsating. The trembling inside her intensified, and Hermione found herself engulfed in both pleasure and pain. Draco released her shoulder and began slowly thrusting in and out of her, watching the way his body vibrating inside hers as he was completely consumed with passion. He was shaking all over, the experience like no other he had ever encountered. His thrusts gathered momentum, and they simultaneously screamed in release. He collapsed on top of her, both of them shivering. It took a while for their breathing to calm down. He lifted his weight off her and gently kissed her shoulder. He went to speak, but she placed her finger on his mouth, "I know, Veela, right?" He nodded and turned over, pulling her on top of him. They slept, and somewhere in her head, she heard him say, "Only 45 hours to go, then it's my turn."
This is a fanfic story. Genre: harry_potter Chapter 1 This story is about Harry Potter, The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, Savior, Breaker of Chains... Mother of Dragons...... Umm sorry that is a story for a different day... Anyways Harry Potter, we all know the story of Harry Potter.. The teenager who defeated the Dark Lord with his two best friends Ron and Hermione.. So, what happened to Harry Potter after that day? Did he marry Ginny? Did he become an Auror? We heard different stories about it, the most common one is that  he  had three children with Ginny and became an Auror.. I’m here to tell you that is not what happened.. Here is the true story of what happened to Harry Potter... So, my friends get comfy, grab a snack because here it goes.. We start on Harry’s 25th birthday.. The Boy Who Lived is surrounded by photos some magical some not.. They are spread over his desk which he is face down on.. He must have fell asleep last night sorting through them.. Photography became Harry’s outlet after the war.. Once it was over, he packed a few thing’s, and flew to America.. He needed to get away from everything including his best friend.. Harry is not stupid enough to think that his friends and family didn’t care about him or worried about him, but  it’s been 7 years, and for once Harry is happy.. Doing something that he loves and with who he loves, Harry is having a wonderful dream him holding his camera and taking a picture of a smiling little girl with hair so white but eyes the color of emeralds.. Before Harry could look closer the feeling of a pair of lips kissing his wakes him.. “Wake up sleepy head... Do you know what day it is?” The voice said sing-song.. “It’s the day where you let me sleep in... and what are you doing you should be resting.. .. ” Harry opens his eyes and he sees that smile the one that makes him weak in the knees.. “Well it’s your birthday and you didn’t come to bed last night so... I woke up to make your breakfast in bed... Now that breakfast is almost ready you need to go up to bed so you can have said breakfast in bed.. ”  Harry stands up and throw his arms around his breakfast maker and kisses them on the lips.. “Matt, thank you so much for the breakfast in bed.. But you know the doctor said that you shouldn’t be over work yourself.. ” He looks at the taller man.. Matt’s salt and pepper hair is slightly sticking up but still more tame than Harry’s.. Matt’s body still fantastic despite being 25 years older than Harry.. Pressing his lips to his older partner.. “I think I can make breakfast for my husband on his birthday.. .. This little thing called cancer isn’t going to take away me doing that... Plus, all those potions that you bought have been working...”  Matt pulls Harry closer to him.. “I have a whole day planned for you my love.. ” Matt pulls Harry to their room.. Harry and Matt share a two-bedroom ranch house in the middle of small town Ohio.. I know what you are thinking... What is the chosen one doing living in a ranch house with a man name Matt who is 25 years older than him.. Well I'm going to tell you.. Let's go back 6 years ago.. Harry has been everywhere in America.. Over the last year he has visited California, New York, Florida, Louisiana, Texas, Arizona.. Until he was on his way to Chicago he never thought to go to Ohio.. Harry never liked flying, so he bought a red Ford Focus.. He liked to be able to stop whenever he wanted too being in an airplane he didn’t have that control.. Sure he could have apperated  everywhere but he never knew who was watching and for once he wanted just wanted to be invisible, not the boy who lived or chosen one.. Anyways back to the story of how Harry met Matthew.. Harry was driving through Ohio which is probably one of the most boring states that Harry has driven through.. Corn and Soy Beans, as far as the eye could see.. There were a few bigger cities that he drove through but mostly just fields.. But Ohio in the fall it’s beautiful, all the colors on the trees, deep oranges, reds, and yellows.. He knows that Hermione and Ron would love it here.. .. Harry wishes that he could share this with him but he knows how everything ended it wouldn’t matter.. Everything he saw, it was perfect.. Something about this place made him feel like it was home... As Harry drives past a sign that reads Welcome to Mt Orab he hears his tire pop.. “Shite.. ” Harry pulls himself off the road and puts on his blinkers.. Making sure he has his wand this should take long to fix.. When he opens his door he sees a cop car pull up.. “Oh bloody hell so much for fixing this  fast.. .. ”  Putting on a force smile Harry get out of the car and stands by the popped tired.. When the officer climbs out of his car Harry’s breath hitched.. Now Harry has come to the fact that he fancies men.. .. I mean he has always known, but now he is open with it.. During his traveling he has spent many a night in the arms of different men... Anyways not saying Harry is a whore but... he is just being the teenager that he never could have been because ya know saving everyone... So where was I.. .. oh yes the hot cop.. Harry saw the officer climb out of his car with his hat and uniform.. He could tell that the officer was older, his salt and pepper hair only showing a little bit, beautiful blue eyes that are looking through him, golden skin probably from being outside all summer.. “Umm Hi.. ” Harry smiles up at the officer trying not to blush.. “Hi, not from around here are ya?” The offers voice husky and low sending a shiver down Harry’s back.. .. American accents have always been a weakness for him.. “Oh umm no sir, I’m from England.. Just having a holiday over here I'm on my way to Chicago.. ”  Moving from one foot to another.. .. He hasn’t been this nervous in a long time talking to someone.. .. Maybe it’s the uniform.. “Well welcome to Mt Orab.. It looks like you have a flat tire... do you have a spare in your trunk?” The officer ask as he walks behind the car.. “Oh um.. .. Yeah I should.. ” Hopefully he doesn’t have anything that would raise red flags... Harry isn’t that good at obliviating people... That was more of Mione thing.. Harry hitting the button to pop open his trunk the cop smiles as he looks at Harry.. “It looks like you have been living out of your car.. How long have you been on vacation?” The cop raises and eyebrow at him.. “I have been traveling for about a year now.. First time in Ohio.. .. ” The cop looks down at the trunk and gets out the spare tire.. “Well this will get you to Sal’s but I wouldn’t drive it anymore than that.. It’s really flat.. He should have a tire that would fit yours.. .. But if not it should get here in the next couple of days.. Come on give me hand.. ” Harry looks at the officer mouth opened.. He couldn’t stay here for a couple days.. .. He wanted to go to Chicago.. When he was in California he stayed with an artist that showed him what he was missing with the arts.. He bought an old 10mm camera, that he now takes everywhere and shoots everything.. Harry wants to take photos of every state, and then have a gallery show.. He went to so many shows in California, New York, he couldn’t wait to get to Chicago and look at their galleries.. “Oh ok yes sir.. ” Harry scrambles and helps the Officer.. “My name is Officer Williams or Matthew not sir.. .. ” Matthew smiles down at Harry.. Now that he feels like he has been turned to jelly, “I’m Harry.. .. Harry Potter...” Holding out a hand to him.. Matt takes his hand and sparks flew.. Oh fuck what did I do now! Accidental magic it has been a long time since he did that.. “Mr.. Potter...” Matthew puts his hand behind his back and Harry does the same since that is where he tucked his wand in his jeans.. “Officer Williams.. ” Harry hand grasps his wand.. Officer Williams takes out his wand and with a flourish the flat tired was replaced with the spare.. Harry just stood there with wand in hand mouth open.. This is the first time that he had met a wizard in America.. “Are you just going to stand there with your wand out so everyone can see it or are you going to put it away.. ”  Closing his mouth, he puts his wand back in place.. “I’m.. .. I’m sorry sir I just haven’t met anyone like me on my holiday so its.. .. ” Matthew put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.. “It’s ok.. I understand, we try to hide it better over here.. Especially in small town Ohio...  Now lets go get you a new tire.. .. I’m afraid we shouldn’t do anymore magic... I’m the only one here and with small town people you have to be careful.. .. Umm let me follow you to Sal’s and then I will take you to Maggie’s so she will have a room for you... Then if you are hungry I could take you over to Emily’s and she will make you something to eat...” Harry honestly wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying he was too busy watching Matt’s mouth.. Get a hold of yourself Harry! He says to himself.. “Yes sir that would be fantastic thank you...” Harry smiles as he runs his hand through his raven color locks.. “Harry, what did I tell you about the sir.. .. Please don’t make me feel older than I am.. .. Call me Matt.. ” There is that smile again.. “Okay, yes Matt I would like that.. ” Harry smiles up at the Officer.. “Alright get in your car and I will follow you.. ”  Matt walks back to his cruiser giving Harry the opportunity to see how glorious his ass looked in his uniform pants.. When he pulls up to Sal’s what he saw was an old garage that was also the gas station.. .. “Sal” Matt says as they both walk up to the open garage.. “Yeah hold on I'm coming.. ” Out steps this tall gangly man with oil stained hands with long greasy hair being held back by a baseball hat.. “Oh hey capt.. What can I do you for?” Sal wipes off his hand on a dirty cloth.. “This is my friend Harry it looks like he has a flat tire... Now I am pretty sure we don’t have any tires here that would fit his.. .. So how long to do you think it would take to fix this?” Matt crosses his arms, Harry can see the veins in his forearms.. God his is hot... “Well I will have to order the tire and you should probably buy new for all of them.. .. So it shouldn’t take longer than a week.. But it is Friday after 3 so it wont go in until Monday so I would say 8 or 9 days...” Sal  spits out a stream of chewing tobacco.. 8 or 9 days... Harry couldn’t be here for 8 or 9 days not in this small town.. .. ------------- Flash forward to 14 days later, Matt and Harry are sitting on the porch of Matts 2 bedroom ranch.. “I can’t believe you are leaving tomorrow...” Matt says as he takes a sip from his beer.. “Well I have been here 14 days... I need to get to Chicago... There is nothing really here for me ya know Matt... I’m a wizard in a small town... Who has taken pictures of everything that this town has... Which you have shown the beauty here but... I mean honestly everyone has treated me like family but do I really belong?” Harry knew that he belonged... But he knows if he stays that he couldn’t just be friends with Matt.. He needed to get away from him, he couldn’t live with the rejection.. He has shared everything with Matt, Voldemort, Hogwarts, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, His parents even Snape.. Harry was open and vulnerable with Matt.. Harry knows that he loves him... But knowing that he might not feel the same way is just too much for him.. “So you are just going to forget about this small town... and everyone in it is that it... I mean I understand this is not Chicago.. .. But you are the first wizard that I have had contact with in such a long time.. .. It’s nice to have someone who understands... I mean... fine whatever just leave it doesn’t matter, Sal will miss you so will Maggie and Emily... are you at least going to say goodbye to them?” Matt finishes his beer and conjures himself another one.. “I... I wasn’t going to I was just going to leave.. .. I am not good a goodbyes... “ Matt slams his fist down on the table.. “Are you fucking kidding me Harry, after everything you are just going to leave without saying goodbye... That is bullshit and you know it... Maybe I should be grateful that you are going to say goodbye to me...” Harry feels himself tearing up.. .. He can’t let Matt see him cry.. “I just... I just can’t be here any longer Matt.. ” Harry stands and paces around the porch.. “Do you hate me that much... that you don’t want to spend anymore time with me... I... i thought that you enjoyed our time together... “ If only Matt could know how much Harry enjoyed their time together.. .. If only he could run his fingers through his hair, feeling Matt’s lips on his.. “I don’t hate the time with you... I.... I.. .. never mind I'm leaving.. ”  Harry tries to walk off the porch.. He can’t take the rejection or hurting Matt.. .. Matt stands and catches him by the wrist.. Pulling him in to his chest.. Blue eyes searching Green, Harry’s breath catches... “I know I'm probably old enough to be your Dad but if I don’t kiss you right now before you leave I'm... I'm going to drive myself crazy.. ” Harry didn’t have time to react, Matt swoops down and captures Harrys mouth in a teeth clashing kiss.. Harry knees fail him but Matt grabs him by the hips and holds him close.. His tongue teases Harry’s lips until it opens and give him full access.. Feeling Matts tongue slide against his goes right to his cock.. Moaning Harry presses closer to the older man.. “Oh Matt.. ” Tears are now sliding down his cheeks.. Matt looks down at Harry and wipes the tear with the pad of his thumb.. “Oh baby, why are you crying? I’m sorry I shouldn’t have kissed you.. But I had to know before you left...”  Harry looks up at Matts beautiful blue eyes.. .. This is home... he knows now that this is home... Wrapping his arms around Matt’s neck Harry pulls him down for another kiss.. This time it was gentle, Harry was pouring everything into this kiss.. He knows now that he couldn’t leave but will Matt really want him to stay.. Pulling away again Harry smiles sheepishly up at Matt.. “Harry.. .. That... that was perfect... please.. .. Please don’t leave.. .. Stay I will take care of you.. .. I have plenty of money saved up we could live right here... I have plenty of space and.. .. You.. .. You can be the town’s photographer everyone will have their pictures taken by you.. .. And we can still travel so you can do your art gallery show... Just please.. .. Please don’t leave...” Matt’s blue eyes pleading with Harry’s green.. Harry bits his lip trying to hide his smile.. .. “Okay.. .. I’ll stay...” Harry says now grinning like a fool.. Matt looks down at Harry not sure if he heard correctly.. “Did you just say that you would stay.. .. Like here with me.. .. ” Matt holds him out so he could see all of Harry’s face... “Yes I will stay here with you... but we are making the bed bigger.. I saw the size of it.. .. And there is no way that there is enough room in it.. .. I mean that is if you want me to sleep in the same bed with you.. .. ” Harry blushes did he just say that out loud.. Matt swings him around in his arms.. “Yes I do.. .. I will make the bed bigger and the closet so all of your things will fit... I promise Harry I will always be there for you and you will never have to want for anything.. ” Matt caresses his cheek before kissing him again.. .. “Officer... If you don’t mind... I would like to go to bed.. .. It's getting late.. Would you like to join me?” Wiggling his eyebrows.. “ I’m right behind you.. ” Matt grabs Harry’s outreaches hand.. “Baby, where did you go?” Matt asked as he moves the tray holding Harry’s breakfast to him with his wand.. “ I was just remembering our first kiss…” Harry looks over at his husband he doesn’t look as well as he has been.. Harry knows deep down that he doesn’t have much time left with him.. But the time he has left he is going to make the most of.. .. “Ah that was a goodnight… thinking that you would leave this wonderful town… you would have missed it I know…” Rolling his eyes Harry picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite.. They sit in happy silence as they finish their breakfast.. “Thanks for the breakfast husband… it was wonderful” Harry leans to kiss him, tasting orange juice on Matt’s lips.. “You feeling okay today, I’m sorry I didn’t come to bed last night I’m just trying to get all the photos ready for the show… I can’t believe that I have a show, and it’s two weeks!  It’s all because of you!” Squeezing his husbands hand.. “I just held your equipment you were the one that took the photos and yes I’m feeling great.. .. the best morning I have had in a long time… now hurry we have a lot to do today… I have a picnic planned and then I was thinking maybe take a swim in the lake.. Then a dinner out in Columbus where I have a hotel room ready.. .. ” Harry looks over at his husband taking a The last sip of orange juice .. God he is still sexy… The trays vanish as Harry said a nonverbal spell.. “Do you know what I want for my birthday since you are feeling good today?” Harry sits on Matt’s lap with a leg on each side.. “What would that be my handsome husband, the love of my life…” Matt says as he kisses down his throat.. .. “You… just you.. .. think you are up for it?” Matt places his hands-on Harry’s hips, causing friction against his cock.. Throwing his head back and moans.. “I take that as a yes.. .. Well officer I thinks it’s birthday sex time.. ” Groaning Matt rolls over on top of Harry.. “Whatever you want my love its yours.. ” Hearing those words even though he has said then a million times in the past 6 years still makes him melt.. “I love you Matthew Thomas Williams.. ” “I love you Harry James Williams” —————— Harry stand in the bathroom looking at himself in the mirror before they leave for Columbus.. Since it’s a couple hours away the are going to apperate.. Harry tries to get his hair to lay flat , it is better now because it is longer.. It hangs just before his shoulders.. He finally slicks it behind his ears and look at his maroon dinner jacket and jeans.. His style is a little bit better than it has been but he still has that awkward look.. He upgraded his wire frame glasses for a black rimmed.. Which makes him look older and more attractive.. “Babe are you about done in there we are going to be late for our reservations.. ” Matt says through the door.. “Alright I’m ready.. ” Harry opens the door and sees Matt in jeans with a blue dinner jacket and jeans.. ” Wow my husband is sexy” Harry wraps his arms around the older man's waist.. “Well I have to look good for my husband on his birthday.. .. Not sure why you stay with this old man but I’m glad.. .. ” Matt leans down and kisses his lips.. “You’re not old… You are perfect!” Kissing him one more time.. “Alright let’s go… hold on tight” Harry kisses him again and pop they disappear.. Feeling that familiar pull and tug but also feeling Matt’s lips on his was an amazing feeling.. Finally reaching their destination Harry pulls away.. .. Smiling looking over Matt, making sure that didn’t take it all out of him.. “Are you okay Matt?” Harry places his hand on his older husband.. “Yes baby come one we will be late for dinner.. ” Interlacing their fingers as the walk out of the ally.. “Sorry I just worry…” Looking down at his husband Matt bring Harry’s hand up to his lips and kisses the scar of I must not tell lies.. “I know as I love you for it but I’m great! I told you it has been a great day! Now let’s go celebrate your birthday.. After tonight you only have two weeks before your show so I want this night to be perfect before you go into crazy work mode.. .. ” “I don’t deserve you do you know that Officer…” leaning into his husband.. Matt moves his arm around Harry’s shoulder pulling him close… “Oh Harry, you are so wrong… I don’t deserve you.. .. ” “Hmm we will just have to agree to disagree.. ” “Maybe you’re right.. .. but anyways here we are let’s go eat I’m starving.. ”  Cuddling in to his husband as they walk into the restaurant.. They walk up to the hostess, “Williams Party.. ” Matt smiles at the blonde hair girl with way too much makeup on.. “Oh you’re private room is ready... Follow me.. .. ” She steps around the podium.. Looking up at Matt Harry raises his eyebrow and smirks.. “What is that about Matthew?” “Well it is your birthday... so.... ” Before Matt could say anything, they walk into the private room and there stood Emily, Maggie, Sal, and Sal’s wife Susan.. “Surprise!” They all yell.. Harry smiles up at Matt and he looks around at his family.. .. It’s not the burrow but that seems like a lifetime away.. .. This was his family now.. .. No talk of war, or death or being the chosen one.. “Guys you didn’t have to do this... It’s only my birthday! We could have just stayed at home.. .. Have a proper family party...” Emily a curly blonde hair girl with huge blue eyes hugs Harry.. “You know we couldn’t have done that your husband was very persistent saying we needed to go all out.. ” “He does that... I hope this doesn’t mean what I think it means... I can’t lose him ya know.. .. He is my everything.. .. ” Harry has tried to keep it together.. “I’m sure he just wanted to go all out for you.. .. 25 years is a big one... almost 30 right.. .. But anyways mister lets enjoy this party he worked hard on it.. ” Harry looks back at Matthew smiling.. If only I could have a little bit longer.. Harry thought to himself.. After they ate everything off the menu it was time for presents.. Feeling silly Harry sat and opened one by one.. The last gift he opened was from Matt.. “Alright, so this last present is something I have been thinking for a while.. .. And see I don’t know how you would feel about it.. .. But this is something that I want to do with you... I know that our future is not as long as we thought it was going to be.. .. You have been with me through everything.. From that first day with the flat tire to the day we said our vows.. I wouldn’t have traded any of that time Harry.. So I think I have said enough.. .. Go ahead and open it.. ” Matt hands him a box.. With trembling hands Harry takes it.. “Matt.. .. ” is all he could say as he looks into his husbands' eyes.. Tearing off the paper seeing a white box he opens it slowly.. Inside were airline tickets.. “Matt.. ” Harry looks at him.. Looking at them closer it’s for home.. “Oh god, Matthew.. ” He couldn’t go back home.. .. “I want to go there with you.. .. This might be the only chance.. I want to see everything.. We don’t have to see your friends I just want to see where you grew up.. ” Tears form in Matt’s eyes.. Looking down at the tickets and then back up to him.. “Alright.. If you really want to do this.. .. We will go.. .. ” Leaning over he plants a small kiss on his lips.. “Thank you Harry.. ” The older man says on his lips.. “No.. .. Thank you, Matt, I love you.. .. ” “I love you too.. Always.. ”.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: cartoons Chapter 1: 5 Crazy Cycles on Slazzcon 4 A few delicious emerald gulps later, humor and curiosity were playing around in her increasingly foggy mind. She had a fairly good idea where she was going to end up, she'd spent enough time engaging in the art of drinking, in her short but colorful life, to know what kind of trouble she was going to stir. "Solaris Williams, Ambassador of Earth," she tried to say, attempting to look authoritative through her drunken haze, as the alien gave her a look of pure confusion. "I have come..." She trailed off as she gazed around the establishment, full of glass and mirrors, not unlike a hair salon back on Earth. "I have come to learn about your culture," she quickly fabricated. "I have learned of a device used to relieve extreme stress, and I would like to sample it for the benefit of knowledge to humanity." Solaris figured that if she used big words, it usually worked, even if she was tripping over her own tongue to say them. The fact that most aliens were surprised she could walk upright was a bonus in these situations. The alien in front of her looked fairer than most she'd seen on this planet thus far, probably whatever this species had to show for a female. And she looked pretty unconvinced. "Ambassador..." She began, "You understand such things are not designed for your anatomy." She put on a slow, educating voice. "You are human." Drunken Miss Williams was having none of it, marching forward as she caught notice of a sign advertising what she came for, she hoped. Solaris had a talent for picking up languages in record time, but she had only been on the planet a few days. Reaching into her pocket and slamming down what passed for currency on this rock on the nearest surface, she opened the door and strode into the darkness. The air was pushed from her lungs as she was suddenly grasped from behind. Her heart pounded in her ears as her fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, but to no avail. The muscular tendrils wrapped solidly around her arms and ankles, dragging her to the floor. She struggled against them, writhing and gaining momentum with the slack she had in her knees to find her feet, only to have the wind knocked from her again as she slipped once more. As she came to rest on her knees, they pulled on her arms, harder and harder, until they were uncomfortably positioned behind her back, her hands pulled palm to palm, and another tendril wrapped itself around her wrists. The flesh against her ankles tightened and pulled, trying hard to spread her, expose her to the air. But she held fast, her strong thigh muscles holding at the knee, and she tried any way she could to prevent her exposure. Her heart dropped as she felt yet another pair of tendrils wrap around her thighs, around the knee, and pull. She blushed heavily as she felt herself exposed. Not used to not being in control, "God damn you! Let me go!" she cried as loud as she could. She inhaled deeply, about to scream, as a very large phallus entered her mouth, barely able to breathe around it, despite her experience in such things. She groaned against the flesh lodged in her throat as she felt thin flesh wrap around the base of her tits. They circled all the way around and tightened, squeezing. She raged inside, even as she drew ragged breath, barely staying conscious, as the thing abused her throat. 'God damn it! Who the fuck said you could touch me there?!' Her frustration only grew hotter as she felt her nipples being played with, oh so delicately, in a way so few before had done. A quick, thick, muscular one wrapped around her neck; she knew this sign. She'd done it herself. "Don't struggle," it was a bad idea, she agreed. She felt everything tighten, her arms behind her back, her hands against each other. Her tits bulged slightly from the squeeze. Even the tendril fucking her throat pushed deeper. Her eyes watered. She knew what was coming; Solaris always had a head for trouble. She tried to relax as much as she could, given the difficult situation. She felt it against her low back. It was slippery, unlike the others. Thank God, at least she'd get the benefits of lubrication. It pushed against her opening, and she allowed it passage as much as she was able. It was large, but perfectly acceptable. "I've had bigger..." she smirked internally, as she focused now on providing the 'cock' in her mouth free passage of her throat, while she accepted a rather pleasant fuck, given how difficult this had been up to now. More cold wetness at her lower back. "Oh, fuck." It didn't take a genius to know what was coming next. It was thankfully smaller, she mused, as she felt it against her back door. She was out of room internally; she tried to relax with the large phallus filling her pussy, but it was hard enough in the comfort of her own home. Eventually, it pushed into her with a small amount of force, and Solaris' excellent muscle control. If she was at home at this point, it didn't show on her face. Solaris was lost, concentrating, perhaps subconsciously on what was happening to her. She fought to control her abdominal and more private muscles to let the assault continue. She tried desperately to remember every trick she'd learned in college to deep-throat a man. Her eyes glazed, and tears slid down her reddened face from the sheer assault. She didn't even feel the tendril wrap itself around her matted blue hair; in the end, it didn't really matter. The one in her mouth seemed to finally finish. "Typical guy, finishing so early," she thought weakly. It pulled back just enough to let her breathe, but not for more than a moment, as it pulsed a hot jet against the back of her throat. And then another. And another. She did what she did best. She swallowed, over and over again, until she felt the warmth in her stomach. Her most private parts got a moment's respite during this, but as soon as she was finished, they started something special. They moved in tandem. As one thrust, the other pulled out, building up an impossible momentum. She felt the tendril in her hair tighten, as if the man she was sleeping with was pulling her hair close to release. She prayed that was the case, as the two assaulted her with deadly efficiency. They built to an impossible speed, not unlike the climax of an orgasm. "Yes! Yes! Cum, fuck you! Finish this!" she screamed inside her head. But the pace continued and continued. She was ragged for breath; the intensely hard fucking was unlike anything she'd had before. She was praying for a finish to this. "Just... fucking... cum!!" she screamed between breaths. "...please..." She cried weakly, her nose congested, and eyes dripping with tears from the intensity of it all. "Please, I'm begging you. I'm begging you!" she mustered the last of her strength for a final plea. To her surprise, they slowed almost immediately. The large appendage in her pussy started to pulse, and she almost felt herself on the edge of tears, as she felt the hot splash inside her. Still held in place by all of the various tendrils, she was about to find out why. A hot jet of a now very familiar fluid sprayed inside her last orifice, planting deep inside her ass. She breathed a sigh of relief and sucked in a quick breath, as it pulled out of her sharply and began to pulse the fluid all over her - her hair, her face, her chest, back, ass, thighs. Not much was left uncovered by the hot fluid, now cooling on her flesh. She crawled her way to the exit, as the rapidly slackening tendrils allowed her to move again under her own volition. She reached up pathetically to open the door, sucked in a harsh breath, and cried, "I want a refund!"
This is a fanfic story. Genre: movies Chapter 1 Five: Kisses Connor watches Murphy turn over in his sleep, staring at his back for a while. With his eyes, he traces the contours of muscles, bones, and shadows, and tries to imagine how sculptors might capture such perfection. No, nobody could. A car goes by outside, the light from its headlamps sweeping the room, distorting Murphy's shape into harsher contrasts for a few seconds. Connor catches sight of the edge of Murphy's saint tattoo and sighs. It should be too sacred to kiss, to mar with bruises and bites. But it's one of the places his lips always seem to wander to. "Connor, what in God's Holy name are you doing now?" Murphy asks. "Shut up, would you? I'm trying to concentrate," Connor replies, his eyes fixed on Murphy's hip. "Aye, I can see that," Murphy says, lowering his hand to stroke Connor's hair affectionately. He gasps a bit as Connor's mouth closes low on his hipbone, squirming when Connor's tongue starts to draw tiny wet circles on his skin. "Oh, Murphy thinks, the jolts running wild through his blood making his cock twitch, God," Connor whispers. "Thought what?" Murphy asks. "Just knew you'd like that," Connor replies. "Aye, keep kissing me there," Murphy begs, breathlessly. "I will," Connor promises. Three Murphy is sprawled on his stomach, arms folded and tucked beneath his pillow, facing Connor. He's smiling lazily while Connor's fingertips drag a line of shivers down his spine. They're happy, adrift in the aftermath of their lovemaking. And it was making love; fucking is for the days when all else is blood and fire. Connor's lips curl into a smile to mirror his twin's, and he bends to kiss the very base of Murphy's spine. He loves the taste of it, afterwards, when there's a gathering of sweat and the distinct flavor of sex pooled in the soft hollow. Two Connor tries his best to be an attentive lover, to pay attention to the little things: where to lick, where to nibble, and where to bite down. He likes to turn Murphy into a mass of live nerves, likes to be able to feel him actually crackling with it. It's when Murphy's entire body is vibrating, thrumming with sensitivity, that Connor crawls back, unleashing all that he has left on Murphy. And though it always ends with a twisted rip of a cry, a painful tugging of Connor's hair, it always starts with this: a gentle kiss to Murphy's cock. One Mouths are strange things, when you get right down to it. But they taste so fucking good. At least, Murphy's does. Connor loves kissing Murphy, especially if they've just had a cigarette. It's the nicotine addict in him, he supposes. There's the acrid taste of the smoke, and then Murphy's saliva, which always, for reasons Connor can't fathom, tastes faintly sweet. Not like straight-up sugar cane sweet. Murphy-sweet. Which is stupid, isn't it? Not that Connor cares. He only cares that Murphy's mouth always opens under his own, that Murphy's tongue fights back when Connor's slides against it. Four: Prized Possessions Four Murphy doesn't go out alone often, but when he does, Connor always does the same thing. He takes their one photo album out, lights a cigarette, and sits at the window to look through old memories. It's a tatty old thing, with tissue paper separating each of the pages. There's a photograph at the front of their parents' wedding. Connor sees Murphy in their Ma, himself in their father. There are others, all in the grainy color that Connor associates with nostalgia, with their youth. Murphy would call him sentimental if he knew. Which is why Connor looks at them alone. Three Connor kneels in the narrow space between the pews, runs his fingers over the beads of his rosary. They're worn to a shine from his constant rubbing, warm beneath his fingertips. He whispers "Amen" and lifts the cross to his lips, kissing the sweet-smelling wood. There's a deep scratch in one side, which he strokes his thumb over carefully. The scratch doesn't offend him; in fact, he treasures it. It reminds him of that psycho with the knife, it reminds him how lucky he is that Murphy is always there to protect him. It reminds him that he's still alive. Two "Wait!" Connor almost falls over himself to get to Murphy. He snatches the jeans from his brother's hands and frantically searches the pockets while Murphy stares at him, bewildered. Finally, Connor's fingers close around what he was looking for. He sighs. "Don't want this laundered." "What is it?" Murphy asks, peering. Connor blushes. "Nothing really." "Fucking important nothing. Come on," Murphy's almost whining. "You can tell me." "You'll laugh." "Won't." "Will." "Nope." "Fine!" So Connor shows him. "You fool," Murphy smiles, pulling a matching ticket from his own pocket. That ball game last week; hot night, insect bites, their first kiss. One Connor's had enough of her. Paula, Pauline, whatever the fuck her stupid name is. And Murphy's polite reciprocation is driving him insane. So he gets up, maybe a bit too fast, and walks in an almost straight line to the jukebox to try and cool off. He slides some change into the slot and sighs at the choices. A few minutes later, there's hot breath on the back of his neck, a sneaky hand curling around his waist, beneath his coat. "Don't be jealous," Murphy says. Connor's voice comes out as a possessive growl. "You're mine." Murphy kisses his nape. "I know." Three: Habits Three "Did you not have enough to eat at dinner?" Murphy grins. Connor looks at Murphy blankly. "What?" "Your nails, Conn. Tasty, are they?" Connor drops his hand, looks at his fingers. The thumb in particular looks sore and red where he's chewed the nail and the surrounding skin. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. "Aye, delicious. You twerp." "Ma says you shouldn't bite your nails," Murphy says. "Oh, and you do everything Ma says, do you?" Connor pokes his tongue out and turns his attention back to the book in his lap. Murphy just laughs as, moments later, Connor's biting his nails again. Two "Connor, I'm going to kick you out of this fucking bed in a minute!" Murphy hisses, pulling the covers back over himself. Connor grunts and rolls over, waking moments later with a groan. "I'm cold," he grumbles. "Get another blanket, then, will you, and stop stealing this one!" Murphy says. "That's the only fucking blanket there is," Connor replies, grabbing the edge and yanking it towards him. Murphy sits up, his stare icy even through the darkness. "You always do this. Every night! Fuck it, I'm buying my own damn blanket in the morning!" "Why don't you just move your arse closer, then?" Connor asks. One Connor has this thing about checking over Murphy's body after a job. They'll stumble in, high on adrenaline and damp with sweat and, usually, blood, and Connor will insist on sitting Murphy down and undressing him. He'll run his fingers lightly over flushed skin, looking for even the slightest nick or bruise. And if he finds one? Well, he patches it up, or spends some time "kissing it better." Murphy just lets him do it now. Doesn't put up a fight. He's usually too tired to anyway, and besides, Connor's hands are always gentle, warm enough to make Murphy shiver. Two: Secrets Two There aren't many things that Connor doesn't tell Murphy. So when Murphy turns to him, the night of their 21st birthday, and says, "Tell me something that nobody else knows," Connor has to think long and hard before he comes up with something. The alcohol seems to have loosened his tongue a little too much, though, as he tells Murphy about the time he kissed a girl called Ruth. "Not my Ruth? While I was still...? You dirty thieving bastard!" Murphy exclaims. Connor can do nothing but laugh. Because it was such a stupid thing to keep a secret. One Murphy probably already knows, but Connor will never confess to him or anyone how terrified he is of losing him. It's not his place to be afraid of death; his or Murphy's. Just... Sometimes, he lays awake at night, watching Murphy sleep and wondering just what he'd do if he ever woke up to find an empty space beside him. He's quite certain it would drive him mad. Like those people he sometimes sees in films, on TV, who are locked up behind thick doors and peered at through tiny windows. But these are the thoughts he keeps to himself. One: Question One "Murphy?" Connor says. "Aye?" Murphy looks up from fiddling with the radio. "What?" Connor sits down heavily, like there's a weight on his shoulders that he needs to offload. "I want to ask you something. And I don't want you to laugh." "Well, what is it?" Murphy asks. "This... thing," Connor says, staring at his hands, obviously nervous. "I want to do it properly." "What are you on about?" Murphy asks. Connor takes two slips of card from his pocket and lays them on the table. "Baseball?" "Aye. Why should we start this, whatever it is, any different? I just-" "Like a date?" Murphy asks. "Yeah," Connor replies. "Alright," Murphy says, grinning.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: harry_potter Chapter 1 Prologue She was running far, far away. Footsteps were heard behind her as her breathing got faster, trying to escape. She knew that if she stopped, he would find her and take her back to that horrible place. No more hurting, she thought to herself. I just can't go back. She could feel the hard pavement underneath her bare feet as she ran. Then she heard him call after her. "Amanda! Get your ass back here this instant!" Her eyes went wide with fear. She tried running faster, but he was getting closer. Even though she was fit, she was never a match for him. He was too strong for her. This was her only chance for escape, and she wasn't going to let him get to her. Her eyes went hard with determination as she sprinted down the road. "Amanda! I swear, if you don't get back here now, you'll have the worst punishment yet." That's when she saw a black Kia Soul in front of her. She quickly moved around it, still running, but then she heard a crunch behind her. Her head turned to see his body on the road. Knowing that if she went back to check on him, he might wake up and get her back, she kept running. About twenty minutes later, she finally found civilization. A real city where people mingled. She took a deep breath, feeling relieved that she was out of Nowheresville and among people. A few minutes passed by before she stumbled upon someone's porch. She started knocking incessantly until someone opened the door. "He's after me," is all she said before fainting and hitting her head on the ground. Chapter 2 Amanda slowly opened her eyes, wincing as she did so. There was a bright light hovering over her as she started to sit up. Pain shot through her body from her head to her toes. "Ouch!" she cried out. "Whoa there, you better lay down again," she heard from across the room. She whipped her head around to see a man with white platinum blonde hair sitting in a cozy armchair by the fire. Her eyes narrowed at him before she realized she couldn't see anything very clearly. "Excuse me, but where are my glasses?" she asked. "I have them. I assumed you didn't want them crushed while you were asleep," he replied to her. "Well, can I have them back?" Amanda tried to sit up again, but cried out at the next pain. "Not until you lay down again. Otherwise, I'm keeping them." Amanda sighed as she burrowed under the covers, laying her head against the pillow that was on the arm of the couch. "Okay, I'm laying down now. Can I have my glasses, please?" The man stood, walking over to her as he pulled her glasses out of a long black case that he had inside his pocket. She could see the outline of his hand as he handed her glasses over to her. "Here," he offered them to her. Amanda took them from his hand and slipped them on. "Thank you." She looked up to see how formidable he looked up close. Her mouth went dry from looking at him. He had well-defined muscles that she could see through his shirt, and bright blue eyes that she could easily drown in. Amanda's body trembled as her face went bright red. "You look a bit flushed. I'll get you some water," the handsome stranger said as he walked over to a mini-fridge in the room, taking out a bottle of water. "Here," he handed the water to her when he walked back. Amanda knew that wasn't the problem, but she took it anyway, feeling embarrassed. She chugged half of it before looking back at him again. "How did I get here?" "You fainted in my doorway. If it wasn't for Lincoln, things could have been worse." Amanda got confused. "Who's Lincoln?" "He's my butler," the man replied. She nodded and bit her lip, trying to decide what she was going to do now. "Well, thank you for letting me crash here, no pun intended, but I better get going." "I don't think that's a very smart idea. From what I heard, someone is after you. You shouldn't risk it." Amanda could see him frowning. That's when her memory came rushing back to her. "Oh!" Her eyes went damp with tears, gripping the blanket hard. Amanda started breathing irregularly, like she might pass out again. The next thing she knew, a cold cloth was on her forehead. "Calm down. I don't want you fainting again." Her eyes closed softly as he moved the cold cloth around her face. Amanda's breathing started going back to normal. "Thank you," she said breathily. "It's not a problem. Maybe you should find a hotel for the night. I'll help you and pay for your expenses." "No, I can't do that. I mean, you don't have to pay." He looked down at her fragile state. Draco knew that if she stayed any longer, he would use her the way he liked. He could see her amazing curves, which were in all the right places. She was perfect for what he had in mind for her. Hold on there, Malfoy. Get a hold of yourself. It's obvious she isn't ready. He shook his head, trying to remember that she had just fainted in his doorway. "Maybe I can help you, then. In exchange, you can do something for me." She turned to face him, looking up into his eyes. Draco could see her hazel eyes through her glasses, and he knew. She would be his next submissive. "What do you mean?" she asked him. "I'll let you stay here, and you'll have to do some things for me," he said, being vague. He could see her thinking, watching her biting her lip. The sight of that made his body build with lust for her as he stood over her. His trousers felt painfully tight, but he didn't shield himself from her view. Draco noticed her look up at his face. "Okay, I guess I can do that." Draco smiled down at her, feeling relieved. "Great. We'll discuss the details in the morning. You should get some more sleep. My name is Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy." The girl smiled back at him. "Amanda Mostyn," she supplied. "You can just call me Amanda, or Mandy, as most of my friends call me." "I'll call you Amanda. It sounds sexy." Draco grinned at her. Amanda giggled slightly as her face started turning red. "Well, Amanda," he rolled her name around his tongue, "go back to sleep." He pulled her glasses off her face and set them on the small table next to the couch. "I'll be here if you need me." He noticed her yawning and closing her eyes. "Okay, g'night," she barely got out before she passed out on the couch. Draco smiled to himself, really looking forward to having her as his next sub, before walking out of the room. She will be mine.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: originals Chapter 1 "Honeeyy, I'm home!" Chris enthusiastically entered his home after a long day at the office. He was tired and just wanted to see his wife's smiling face. There was nothing. Chris frowned as he set down his briefcase, put his hat on the peg, and loosened his tie. "Honey?" He called again inquisitively. All he heard was some banging from the kitchen. Walking warily towards the kitchen, he entered to see his wife Tiffany struggling on the floor with some pots and pans. She obviously hadn't heard him come in. "Tiffany! What on earth are you doing?" Tiffany whirled around and tried to stand, but accidentally stepped on her dress and fell back down. Exasperated, she sat on the kitchen floor and spoke, "Agh! I've been trying to do the kitchen spring-cleaning. We have all this old dusty pots and pans in this bottom cupboard we never even use!" Tiffany's scowl suddenly turned to a smile as she looked up at her husband, "but welcome home dear," she said sweetly, "would a strong man like you help me out?" Tiffany's words were lost on Chris as he took her in. Tiffany was panting and a bit red-faced and sweaty from her work, her hair looking a little wild. When she had tripped on her dress, it had tugged the top down and burst her top button. His wife was very top-heavy and had to tailor all the dresses she bought. Right now, he could just see a peek of her sturdy black brassiere and her heaving cleavage. His eyes moved down to where the thin fabric hugged her small waist and ballooned out to cover her wide hips. Then his eyes got wider as he saw, after her fall, her conservative knee-length dress had flipped up almost entirely, and he could see her long black stockings held in place by her garter belt straps. And he could just see an edge of lace on her ladies' underwear. Chris gulped and started getting red in the face himself. He took his tie all the way off while he felt something growing in his trousers. His wife was babbling something about the kitchen when Chris roughly took her by the arm and tugged her to her feet. Tiffany was taken aback by the roughness, but before she could say anything, he pressed his mouth against hers in a long passionate kiss. Tiffany struggled for a few moments before getting lost in the kiss herself and finding herself pressing her body against his. Their lips pressed even closer together, and they began pushing their tongues into each other's mouths when Chris's hands frantically started groping Tiffany's voluptuous breasts. Unbuttoning all her dress buttons and massaging them hard over her silk bra. Tiffany moaned into his mouth as she started unbuttoning his shirt and running her hands over his strong muscular chest. Her hands slid around his body, touching as much bare skin as she could, before guiding them downward and finding his belt buckle. She could feel the strain in his pants when she unbuckled his belt and let his trousers drop. She felt for his fly and finally freed him; she pulled him out just as Chris had figured out her bra and let her full heavy breasts bounce free from their restraints. It's as if they could read each other's minds the way they made love, something they had always felt. Tiffany unwrapped her busy hands from Chris's long and thick shaft to flail backwards and clear the kitchen table to make room for her as Chris bent down and grabbed her by the back of her strong thighs and scooped her up like nothing. They paused a moment as her breasts were mashed into his face while he was holding her, and he sucked a nipple into his mouth and kept sucking hard as Tiffany wrapped her arms around his head to pull him into her bosom harder. Finally, just because he couldn't breathe, he released his hold on her nipple and plopped her plump ass down on the table. They were both sweating and breathing heavily, their clothes a mess. Chris's trousers were around his ankles, his long hard cock throbbing out from the fly of his underwear, his shirt was unbuttoned and hanging around his shoulders. He quickly shed it entirely and kicked off his pants, his toned body and throbbing member ready to go. Tiffany's dress was down around her shoulders as she quickly took her bra off entirely and pulled her arms out of the dress. She left it on but the top crumpled behind her on the table, leaving her top totally exposed. She rubbed her nipples lightly while she spread her legs wide. Then she reached down and grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it up and gathering it around herself. Chris saw everything it had to hide: her bare thighs covered by only garter straps, and her moist thin silk panties. She reached down and pushed the crotch of her panties aside, exposing her dripping cunt. Her swollen clit was throbbing as she rubbed it and spread her pussy lips with her fingers. Chris watched all as he was throwing off his clothes. "Take me..." Tiffany moaned as Chris stepped up to grab her legs; he didn't have to be told. Chris took her legs and spread them wider; some of her garter straps popped off of her stockings and left them in disarray. But neither cared as Chris lined himself up and plowed into her deep and hard. Tiffany gasped hard and gripped the edges of the table to keep herself steady as her husband humped her hard. The table shook as Chris drove his thick meaty shaft into her hot tight little pussy. Chris was holding her legs up and apart, but Tiffany struggled free only to wrap them around his waist and pull him in further. Chris was embedded deep and braced himself against the table with his free hands to make his thrusts deeper and more powerful. His cock never left the tight folds of her pussy; he made smaller thrusts and kept her stretched as their juices mixed and flowed together. They had been so focused on fucking they forgot about each other and realized their hot sweaty bodies were being pressed together. Her pert nipples rubbed and squished against his chest as he licked and nibbled her ear. Her hands went through his thick curly hair as she moaned; Chris could feel her hot breath on his own ear. They were nearing their climax, and Chris grunted harder, his thrusts becoming slower and more deliberate. Tiffany squeezed his body closer with her legs as she shuttered and orgasmed, the juices pouring out of her around his thick shaft as she tightened up. Chris thrust a few more times in her extra sensitive cunt before he exploded, releasing all his cum deep inside her. Tiffany moaned as she felt the heat of his seed inside of her, and her legs slacked, and Chris pulled his sticky cock out of her tightness. They smiled at each other as Chris helped his wife to her feet, and they kissed each other lightly for several minutes, their hands exploring each other's tired bodies. Chris drew away and was cleaning up their clothes and their mess when Tiffany looked at the clock and gasped. "Oh no!" "What is it, hun?" Chris asked. "That dinner party is tonight, we're going to be late!" and with that, she rushed out of the room, her bare breasts bouncing as she clutched her ruined dress around her. Chris followed her upstairs, noticing the wet trail she left behind from the drippings between her thighs. Chapter 2 Chris stepped out of the shower after waiting for his wife to have finished. He walked into their bedroom just to see a flash of his curvy wife stepping into her dress and pulling it up over her elaborate undergarments. Pity he didn't get a closer look. He walked into the room dripping, a towel about his waist. Tiffany saw him enter and turned, "zip me up?" she asked. Chris nodded and walked over to her; he took a hold of the zipper and zipped the long back of her dress up slowly over a tight full-bodied corset he'd wished he'd seen the front of. He finished and gently kissed her neck, her hands reached back into his hair, both of them remembering their kitchen fuck. But they pulled away; they had to keep getting ready. Tiffany did the final touches of her makeup and appearance while Chris slipped into his tuxedo. They would be having dinner with friends and then going to the opera together. Chris clipped on his cuff-links and turned to see his wife fully ready, and it took his breath away. She was gorgeous in a strapless beige-pink dress that pushed her breasts up and out, giving a lot of overflowing cleavage. The dress went inward, tight around her small waist, then flowed out to the ground. Her hair was perfectly made up, and the outfit was finalized by her inherited diamond necklace just over her bosom, and elbow-length white gloves going up her arms. Chris felt downright shoddy in his tuxedo, "stunning!" he commented, and his wife blushed, "though the cut of that top may make me a jealous man tonight." Tiffany laughed at him, "you are looking pretty handsome yourself, and don't worry. I'm all yours forever." They smiled at each other and left the house arm in arm. Dinner had passed by uneventfully. They enjoyed the company of their friends, but their eyes kept meeting and remembering what they had done just hours ago. They were in the opera house now, it was a large old majestic thing, with many unused areas and back rooms. As they were making their ways to their seats, Tiffany tripped and cried out. "Ah, my ankle!" Chris immediately grabbed her. "Darling, are you alright?" "I think I will be dear, let's just go for a bit of a walk, and I'm sure it will feel better." The concerned husband immediately leaned her on his arm and took her out into the lobby as the music started. Tiffany just grinned wickedly, and as soon as no one was about, kissed him hard. It was Chris's turn to look surprised until he grinned and kissed her back, "I couldn't stop thinking about it either," he said. Then Chris took the initiative; he grabbed Tiffany's hand and led her on a maze in the opera house. They found an old room in a corner of the place with an old bed in it and a lockable door. They rushed in, and Chris clicked the lock behind him. Chris then frowned, "but honey, we don't want to ruin your dress." "No problem, dear," said Tiffany, with that she loosened her zipper, and her dress crumpled to the ground around her feet, and Chris could take her in, in her lingerie entirely. She was wearing stockings and a garter belt again, but of much better quality. The sheer stocking went much higher on her leg and was topped with little red bows. Her garter was smaller and more form-fitting; he saw more skin, and it accentuated the wideness of her hips. Covering her pussy was a small black thong, her first one. They had talked of getting one, and she had gone ahead as a surprise and decided to make its debut tonight. Then a small bit of bare skin around her waist showed until it was her tight corset, its cups filled to the brim with her big soft breast. Chris could just see areola peeking out. Tiffany's hips swayed as she approached her gaping husband and dropped to her knees. She tugged down his pants and freed his growing member. Giving it a few licks, it was immediately harder. Rubbing his shaft and massaging his testicles, she opened her mouth wide and took him deep. Chris groaned and closed his eyes, listening to the distant music as he was transported to heaven by his wife's mouth. Chris bucked and was about to cum, but grabbed his wife and pulled her off. "You won't win so easily," he said, and threw her onto the bed. Diving between her thighs, he stripped the small thong down and took in the scent of her moistening pussy. Chris gave it a big long lick before taking her swollen bud into his mouth and sucking hard. Tiffany moaned loudly and arched her back as Chris worked her lips with his mouth. Her gigantic breasts popped out of her tight corset and flopped about as Chris drove her mad with his skills. Chris brought Tiffany to the edge of orgasm before pulling away at her dismay. Tiffany tried to use her hands to finish the job, but Chris grabbed her, and she was suddenly flipped onto her stomach. Tiffany was taken aback and heard the zip of fabric as Chris whisked off the bowtie from around his neck and, in a few deft moves, brought her wrists together and wrapped it around them, binding her tight. Tiffany struggled, but was powerless. Chris manipulated his wife into position, her hands were tied behind her back, and her knees tied up, so she lay prostrate with her cheek to the floor and her large ass sticking up. Chris admired his wife's fantastic ass. It was enormous, but so shapely and soft. He touched it, then grabbed it, roughly he kneaded it to his heart's content, and lightly slapped it a bit. Finally, bent down and shoved his face into it to give her soaking cunt a few more licks. Chris got on his knees and teased her pussy lips, putting the head of his throbbing cock just at her entrance. Tiffany tried to move back for him to enter, but he kept her at bay. Finally, he bent down over her and placed his hands hard on her, pressing her down into the bed, squishing her soft breasts, and keeping her where he wanted her. Tiffany groaned and yelled at him to fuck her, but her yells turned to deep moans as Chris ever so slowly penetrated her wetness. Inch by inch, and in silence, he pushed himself into her. She throbbed and tightened as he filled her up. Finally, he was balls deep inside of her wet slit. Tiffany moaned harder as Chris stayed embedded inside of her. Then, just as slowly as he entered her, drew back out and left her empty. Chris then entered her again, faster, and out, faster. Chris began moving his hips faster and faster, his thick shaft pushing against her walls again and again as he slid in and out, in and out, in and out. Then faster and faster until Chris was pounding Tiffany harder than on the kitchen table. Tiffany moaned as she was helpless, and her sensitive nipples were rubbing against the rough bedspread. Chris reached one hand down around her and pinched her clit while the other one he used to smack her big fleshy ass. Chris grunted in exertion as he pleasured his woman, and Chris was soon rewarded with his bucking wife, and she climaxed. But Chris kept going, thrusting, smacking, and pinching her bud until a second, then third orgasm wracked his wife's body. Frantically knowing he wouldn't last long, Chris yanked himself out and flipped Tiffany over; he ripped off her corset and straddled her chest. Roughly, he grabbed her massive tits and squished his cock between them to finish himself off. Still recovering from her orgasms, Tiffany flinched as Chris squirted his hot white seed all over her tits and face. Licking it, Tiffany smiled at him. Chris released her bonds, and she gathered up more on her fingers and sucked it off. They kissed and cuddled on the bed for a while, the distant strains of the opera coming through to them. They kissed, spooned, and caressed each other's naked bodies. They decided to dress and make a dash for it; they couldn't make themselves as presentable as before. But maybe after round two…
This is a fanfic story. Genre: movies Chapter 1 Skittery hesitantly glanced up at the street sign he passed. Slowing his long strides, he stopped completely, glancing at his friend, Kid Blink, who stood a few feet ahead of him. "Do you think this is such a good idea?" he asked, adjusting his cap and shifting uncomfortably. Kid Blink turned, his unmistakable smile plastered on his face. He swung an arm around his friend, pulling him along as he talked. "Of course it's a good idea, Skittery. This is going to be the greatest night of our lives." "You mean it'll be the best night of your life. It's your money, you spend it. I don't want to be involved," Skittery replied. Kid stopped, the smile on his face never wavering. "No, no. I've got enough money for the both of us. Besides, I owe you for selling my papers last week." With a sigh, Skittery nodded reluctantly, not wanting to argue anymore, knowing nothing would come of it. The sun had set long ago, and the evening was falling as the two wandered down the street, their eyes searching for a specific building. What they came to was a regular-sized building, looking no different from the others surrounding it. The inside was dreary and furnished very plainly. A few chairs were scattered around the room, gathering dust, waiting for customers. A large desk sat in the middle of the room, papers and books scattered in no particular order over the surface. A young girl, who didn't look over the age of seventeen, sat on top of the desk, enveloped in a game of solitaire. Annie Williams cursed loudly and gathered her cards, shuffling them for another game. The sound of two pairs of footsteps ripped her attention away from her cards, and in front of her stood two young men. From the clothes they wore and the ink stains on their hands, she concluded they must have been newsies. "Can I help you?" she raised an eyebrow, giving them a questioning look. When neither answered, both standing there, fidgeting, she slammed her cards down. "You here to buy a whore or what?" The two were taken aback by how direct she was. Kid Blink stepped forward, a smile playing on his lips, and nodded, holding out his money. Annie turned to Skittery, only eyeing the money held out to her for a second. "And what about you? You gonna join your buddy?" she asked. Skittery shook his head hastily, not bothering to take notice of Kid Blink's protest. Annie ignored the arguing boys and leaned to her right, banging a fist against the wall loudly. A girl appeared from the back room a few moments later. Not only did she look much older, but she seemed to hold a protective air around the other girl as the two talked quietly together. "This is Mary," Annie said, when the two dispersed from their discussion. "She'll be helping you out tonight." Mary smirked at Annie's choice of words and sauntered across the room, grabbing Kid Blink and leading him into the back room by the bandana tied around his neck. "See ya later, Annie." Annie swiped her hand across the table, glancing up at the two with a smirk. Gathering her cards and folding her feet under her legs, she gave a quick glance Skittery's way before dealing out the cards for another game of solitaire. Skittery leaned back against the desk, eyeing her cards. "So, your name's Annie? I'm Skittery," the unnerving silence of the room eating away at him when she didn't answer, he continued on. "You work here?" "You mean am I a whore?" Annie questioned, bluntly, not bothering to look up from her cards. Her eyes shifted from her game only when Skittery shifted and cleared his throat. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you are sitting in a whorehouse, so I assumed..." Annie rolled her eyes and went back to her game. "Maybe you should stop assuming things, then, Skittery," she said, flatly. Now interested, he leaned forward. "Then what are you doing here? You obviously gotta be doing something if you're staying here." "Why do you care? Do you want my business?" she asked. "No, no," he replied quickly, blushing slightly. "I was just wondering what you're doing in a whorehouse when you're not a whore." "Well, if you must know, my sister's a whore, and I stay here cause I don't have nowhere else to go," Annie finally said after a long period of silence. Her eyes shifted to Skittery, and was surprised his gaze still held a hint of curiosity. "Ain't you kinda embarrassed by that?" Skittery asked. She raised an eyebrow, gathered her cards, banging them against the table, setting them in a neat pile. "Why should I be embarrassed? She's got a job, she's making money; we aren't living on the street. I say we're doing pretty good." She shrugged indifferently. "Why, you embarrassed to be a newsie?" "How'd you know I was a newsie?" he asked, giving her a wary look only to blush when she motioned to his ink-stained hands. "It's kinda obvious to tell which of you boys are newsies and which aren't," Annie said, giving a small smile. She coughed quietly and averted her eyes from his hands, seeing him fidget and shoved them in his pockets. "And what about you? Why aren't you back there with your friend?" The mere thought of what was happening in those back rooms made Skittery blush a deep shade of red. He looked away, unsure of how to answer, inciting Annie to giggle. "You a little sensitive about the subject of sex, Skittery?" she slid across the desk, closing the gap between them. Skittery's eyebrows frowned, and he was confounded to find his breathing had become irregular at the closeness and heat radiating from her body. His chest heaved as he tried in vain to even out his breathing, but gave up his failed attempt altogether when he felt a finger trace the outline of his ear. He turned towards Annie, only to be met with her lustful stare. He knew what she wanted, and he couldn't deny that he wanted the same. It had been so long since he had been with a girl, and he could feel a familiar ache in his groin as he wet his lips and captured her in a heated kiss. His kisses were hard and passionate, enticing a moan to form deep within Annie's throat. Her hands gripped his suspenders, pulling him with her as she fell back onto the desk. He complied too her gentle tugging and crawled on top of her, straddling her waist. Their first kiss was finally broken, and both stared at the other, trying to regain air into their lungs. "Is this okay?" Skittery whispered, gasping for air. "What if someone walks in on us?" Annie leaned up and kissed him. "It's a whorehouse. Nobody's going to care," she reassured. Pushing him on his back, she straddled him, hiking her skirt up to her thighs. Skittery groaned when she shifted into a more comfortable position and ran his hands up her legs to her newly exposed skin. "You're going to kill me if you keep that up," he moaned, lifting his hips to meet hers. Annie smiled, and rotated her hips against his in small circles, watching Skittery's face contort into one of complete pleasure. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she trailed her fingers up his chest, and in a torturing slow motion, began to pop open the buttons of his shirt. Skittery arched his back to give her more room to remove his shirt and shuddered at the feeling of her nails scratching over the thin material of his longjohns. He groaned inwardly at the look she held in her eyes as he stared up at her. He had just met this girl, but somehow her unkempt hair and innocent look turned him on immensely. His warm hands found her waist, gently urging her to lay down and let him take control, but she wasn't letting in. She stopped her movements and grabbed his hands, easing them over his head, her eyes silently asking him to keep them there. Slowly, she settled back down, sitting just above the swelling bulge in his pants, only to lean down and place feathery kisses upon his clothed chest. He released a shuddering sigh and couldn't stop himself from tangling his hands in her hair, unconsciously nudging her head further downward. She obeyed, neither looking up nor ceasing her kisses, and inched her way down his legs until she had access to the button of his pants. His hips lifted from the table in response to her hands as they grazed over the button and tugged down the zipper. Once Annie had rid him of his suspenders, she slid further down his body, slipping off his shoes, then his pants, throwing them to the floor next to his shirt. Without a word said between the two, she returned to her place, straddling his hips, this time placing her weight on his straining hard-on. "Oh God, Annie," Skittery groaned, the weight causing a pleasurable pain to shoot through his body. Annie smiled at the reaction she received and continued her assault, ripping any self-control that remained in Skittery's body. In one swift movement, his hands found her waist again, lifting her off him and laying her on the desk. "My turn," he whispered, his tongue flicking over her earlobe. His hands eagerly untucked her shirt, his fingertips brushing across her bare skin, teasing her. A tingle ran down her spine at the sensual feelings that were taking over her body, and it took everything in her to keep in the moan that was building up inside her. His fingers traced circles on her exposed stomach, and he tossed her shirt to the floor. He inched upwards in a tantalizing slow pace, placing kisses among her stomach and chest. Annie's eyes squeezed shut momentarily, and her breathing came out in short, ragged breaths, his lips finally reaching her breast. He rained kisses upon her skin, every once and awhile sucking or nipping at the hardened buds. Annie sighed her pleasure, twisting her fingers through his hair, urging him silently on. She groaned in disappointment as his lips left her nipple, but was quickly quieted by Skittery's lips pressing to hers. He kissed her urgently, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. Their kiss was broken, and Annie took in a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to calm her overexcited emotions. "Please, Skittery..." she begged, running her fingers along the nape of his neck, pulling him into a tender kiss. "Tell me what you want," Skittery pressed himself against her, licking at the base of her neck. She opened her eyes fully to look at him. The look of lust he had in his eyes as he stared down at her was one she had never seen before. It was too much, and it caught her off guard. She didn't know what to say. "I want you, Skittery," she finally answered, finding her voice again. Leading his hands up her thighs, her hands guiding his, her underwear were slipped down her hips and added to the pile of clothes on the floor. The ache between her legs grew greater at the friction of Skittery's longjohns rubbing against her bare skin, and in desperation, she popped the buttons, stripping his last article of clothing from his body. With all barriers removed from between them, Skittery rested his body gently on top of hers, his hands bunching her skirt to her waist. His lips found hers, and he set a slow pace that he would try his best to keep. Not breaking the contact of their kiss, he gently guided himself into her, pausing to relish in the feel of her body being so close. Finally, he started a slow rhythm, her body moving along with his movements. Finding his mind blank, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, his movements becoming more frantic. The cards that were set aside earlier that evening were knocked to the ground in his careless actions and scattered over the floor. Annie gripped Skittery's shoulders in a pathetic attempt to lose her mind. She soon found her control and moved steadily with his movements, her nails scratching lightly over his back, her body trembling noticeably with pleasure. "Skittery...", she whimpered, her movements becoming reckless as he sucked at the sensitive skin below her ear. "Let it go, Ann. Just let it go," he urged. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper within her, pushing herself over the edge. Her hands gripped his arms, shoulders, back, anything she could brace herself on as an orgasm washed over her, triggering Skittery's own release. Sweaty and breathing uncontrollably, Skittery collapsed on top of her. "I hope you don't expect me to pay, cause I don't got no money," he laughed, gasping for air. "When did I ever say I was a whore?" Annie grinned, and kissed him softly. Her head snapped up at the sound of laughter coming from the back rooms, growing closer by the second. Both Skittery and Annie glanced at each other before jumping from the table, in a desperate attempt to dress themselves. "Damn, my cards," Annie mumbled, dropping to her knees, noticing her cards had fallen from the table and were strewn all over the floor. Too involved in finding all fifty-two cards, Annie didn't notice the presence of her sister in the room. Mary bit back a laugh and stared at the scene before her with an amused expression. The room was a complete disaster. Everything that had been on the desk had been knocked to the floor, and the thought of the activity that caused this mess made Mary go into a fit of giggles. She elbowed Blink, who stood behind her, and both laughed in amusement as Annie finally noticed them and hurriedly tried to straighten out the buttons of her shirt. "What were you guys doing in here?" Mary had a clear picture in her mind of what their activities may have been, but she was unable to control her curiosity. Annie forced an innocent smile, the cards she held in her hand dropping to the ground. "Uhh... playing fifty-two card pickup?"
This is a fanfic story. Genre: cartoons Chapter 1: 627 Dominates By Ackerman111 Growling, Stitch lunged at 627 with the cunning precision of a computerized brain; his timing was perfect, the angle just right, taking into account his speed and wind resistance—no mention of the lack of traction from the loose soil—and the trajectory of his blow. Stitch attacked with a mathematical certainty of victory. So, when the blue, koala-like experiment charged the cackling red fiend, only to find his claws swiping nothing but air, for the smallest fraction of a second, Stitch's mind froze with panic. By the time he began theorizing a possible counterattack, it was already too late. 627 dodged the blow intended for him and managed to grab hold of Stitch's arm. He was fast, but 627 was faster. Laughing, he twisted Stitch around and managed to successfully pin all four of his arms behind his back. Stitch fought vehemently against his captor's hold, but only succeeded in getting deranged chuckles from 627 as he watched his prey struggle. They were so close, Stitch could feel 627's breath against the back of his neck. He couldn't break free; he was completely at this red experiment's mercy, but 627 had no intention of killing Stitch, not yet. No, that wouldn't be enough—he wanted to humiliate him first. Yes, that sounded so much more delicious. He not only wanted to shame Stitch beyond his worst imagining, he wanted to degrade him, strip away his manhood, and make him beg as his penis cried tears of frustration. He wasn't sure where that last part came from, but it felt right to him. Stitch bucked and struggled, and 627, the larger trog, could sense the power in the tiny blue alien, pick up on the waves of masculinity, the raw force of his male, dominating nature. Already, 627 could feel his cock starting to go stiff. 627 leaned over Stitch's shoulder and ran his thick, pink tongue up Stitch's neck, focusing on a sensitive spot right behind his ear. The smaller experiment immediately ceased his struggles and seemed shocked by this sudden display of affection. 627 pulled Stitch against his body, his paws beginning to fondle and caress the smaller trog's powerful frame. Stitch closed his eyes as 627 began massaging his pectorals, trying his best to fight back moans of pleasure. "What are you doing?" Stitch asked, but 627 ignored him and began lowering his hand down Stitch's stomach, his claws raking through blue fur as it continued its determined trek for his crotch. Finally, his paw found its prize and began rubbing Stitch's groin, slowly at first, then gently faster in long, drawn-out circles. All too soon, Stitch was fighting with all his might to hold back his moans. He tried to hold it in, tried so hard to contain, but the combination of 627's tongue and his paw working him over, and Stitch's defenses finally dropped. Next thing he knew, 627 had his penis in his hand and began gently stroking. "Naga! Stop!" Stitch blushed so hard he could feel the blood pumping through his face. He was getting hard. 627 chuckled and began working his hand even faster. Stitch shut his eyes tight, powerless to stop the unwanted pleasure, which now coursed through his innocent loins, obliterating all thought, all resistance. 627's hand moved with the mechanical pace of a machine, and to Stitch, there was nothing in the world but the steady, constant rhythm of the deranged experiment's paw. Up and down, up and down, up and down, faster and faster, and faster. He was completely hard now. Chuckling evilly, 627 slid one of his free hands along Stitch's leg and began groping his testicles, gently massaging them as he continued his merciless assault on the smaller experiment's sobbing penis. For Stitch, the double stimulation was too much for him. He could feel 627's rock-hard cock jabbing him in the back, ruffling through his fur with every movement, and was disgusted to feel a spike of excitement shoot up his staff. 627 released his cock, and Stitch let a sigh of disappointment slip from his mouth before he could stop it. The humiliation was terrible for him, to think that he would miss 627's touch so much, to be taken down so easily and be degraded by a stronger male, becoming the experiment for his sexual torture, too weak-willed and powerless to resist. He hated himself, felt lower than dirt. Stitch stood there with his head hung low, panting quietly while his dick stood stiff and completely engorged, yearning to be taken hold of and beaten. 627 grabbed Stitch and spun him around, making the sub-male face him. Stitch's eyes were half-closed and clouded with lust. He was loving this; this was exactly how he wanted things to go. He had taken the unstoppable Stitch's manhood away by dominating him, making him burn to feel a male's touch like a female—that's precisely what he was—metaphorically, he had turned Stitch into a female. Reaching out, 627 grabbed Stitch's paw and wrapped it around his own pulsating cock. Stitch tried to pull away at first, but 627 held it there and began guiding it slowly up and down his shaft. Stitch looked mortified, but at the same time, filled with self-loathing desire and fascination. What must it be like for him to touch another guy's penis? 627 wondered. Looking down, the deranged experiment smiled; his manhood was bigger and thicker than Stitch's, and this pleased him, only cementing his dominance over this inferior creature, making him the alpha-male. Wrapping an arm around the smaller experiment's waist, 627 pulled him close and took both their cocks in his paw, mashing them together. Stitch gasped and immediately tried to push away, but 627 quickly subdued him with his strong, rough pumping. Closing his eyes, Stitch let his head hang back as he was overcome by the captivating feel of having his dick rubbing against 627's. He secretly hated that this maniac's manhood was bigger than his own; in a way, it made him feel like less of a male, like the weak slut was his rightful place when compared to this virile specimen, like it was an honor for his comparatively tiny, unworthy cock to touch this instrument of sexual perfection. 627 began beating their meats even faster, and Stitch felt like he might lose it at any second. He knew if 627 didn't stop, he was going to blow his load, and that was something he refused to let happen: to have another male bring him to orgasm, to make him spill his inferior seed. But how could he stop it when it felt so good? "You're loving this, aren't you, slut?" 627 asked, smirking. "Naga...naga," Stitch breathed. Smirking, 627 pressed his lips against Stitch's. He gasped, and 627 took this opportunity to snake his tongue into the smaller experiment's mouth. Only Stitch's muffled cries of hated pleasure could be heard as the red experiment filled his victim's mouth. Stitch felt sick, invaded; he could taste 627's spit as he continued to work his thick, wide tongue around his own. And yet, he loved the sensation and hated himself for it. Suddenly, he was shoved onto his back, only to have 627's sinister smile looming over him. "Wuh..." before Stitch could get out another word, 627 raised Stitch's butt off the ground and pulled his legs apart. "Is this what you want?" 627 asked, lining up his cock with Stitch's entrance. "You want me to fuck you?" The red experiment leered. God, he wanted to fuck Stitch; his cock ached to ram inside his tight, virgin hole, but not just yet. He wanted 626 to beg for it, and even then, he might deny him, just so he would be driven insane by his lust. "Naga!" Stitch gasped when 627 suddenly took his cock into his mouth. Moaning, he arched his hips, and 627 began sucking him off. Smirking, he pulled away. "Come on," he began rubbing his cock against the tight little entrance. "You know you want it; you want to feel my huge dick inside of you." Leaning forward, he began kissing Stitch while gently stroking his cock, slowly teasing him. "Tell me you want it," he whispered. "Naga!" Tears of frustration streamed down Stitch's face. He couldn't take this torture anymore. It was absolute agony. He knew if he gave in and let 627 fuck him, if he let himself become the female receptacle for another male's penis, he'd never call himself a man again. But...but...he wanted to...he wanted to so bad. The red experiment was on the brink of annihilation. Fuck torturing him; if Stitch wanted to be fucked, he was gonna get fucked, but only if he begged. Leaning down, 627 spat a huge glob of spit onto his cock and used his paw to smooth it around his throbbing shaft. "Come on." 627 pushed his cock against Stitch's hole, increased the pressure, and slid in a little. Stitch gasped and clenched his fists, his claws digging deep gouges into the earth. He couldn't take it anymore! He needed this and couldn't fight it. "Ih!" He cried. 627 smiled. "What?" He moved his hips tantalizingly. "What was that?" "Ih!" He said. "You want me to fuck you?" "Yes!" Stitch wailed as tears leaked down his face. 627 smiled triumphantly, and with one forceful push, he slid his long, throbbing cock into Stitch's tight little anus. Stitch squirmed beneath him, adjusting to the feel of having another male's manhood inside of him. Being an experiment, he felt no pain, but it was still uncomfortable. Then 627 thrust hard, and Stitch saw stars. "Ugh!" He cried in a strange pleasure. The muscles rippled in 627's back as he rocked his hips back and forth. Damn, Stitch was tight; his walls gripped his cock and squeezed like a vice. Stitch moaned as 627 increased his speed, ramming the poor, defenseless experiment with rough, piston-like thrusts. His eyes were closed tight in an expression of pure ecstasy, and 627 had to admit he was enjoying himself too. This was going better than he ever hoped. With one final shove, Stitch's tortured cock jumped, and sprayed semen all over his chest in a flailing white arc; a moment later, 627 blew his load inside of him with a loud, beastly roar and then collapsed on top of his 'female,' his energy and testicles spent. They lay there for a moment, panting and out of breath, before 627 pulled out of him and got to his feet. It would have lasted longer had he not teased himself so much. However, looking at Stitch, broken and trembling in the afterglow of the orgasm he had given him, covered in his own seed with 627's dripping from his abused ass, was all the satisfaction he wanted and more. "Faggot," he said with an evil grin on his face. Stitch closed his eyes and looked away in shame. What had he done? How could he let 627 do those things to him? Smirking, 627 turned away and left the clearing, laughing as Stitch curled into a ball and began to weep.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: anime2 6th Time is the Charm Chapter 1 She came to him in the shower. It was unexpected, and he was a bit startled. Bulma was sure he would get violent, asking her what the hell she thought she was doing in there. But she defused the anger by taking her clothes off. It had always worked before. Nobody could stay mad at her when she was naked. It proved to work on the Prince of All Saiyans as well. His eyes widened when she stepped in with him, and she noticed his hands were trembling slightly. He didn’t protest when she lay her hands on him. She was slow, gentle, the only time he had ever been touched that way. He swallowed hard and didn’t hide his trembling. She kissed his most recent wounds, then he sucked in a breath as she kissed the old ones as well. She lay her head on his heart, right above the death-dealing scar. It beat so hard in his chest it hurt. She was quiet, and so soft. He wanted to say so many things, but he choked on all of his words. He wanted to push her away, but he wanted this feeling even more. Part of him was bewildered and afraid, but another part, a hidden part, was filled with need. With want. He wanted her to love him. Even if there was nothing he could think of that proved he deserved it. When she pulled herself close to him, he ached in such an animal way that it startled him. He wanted to be hard with her, but he didn’t want to hurt her. For once, this was about pleasure, not pain. How could he hurt someone who was being so good to him? When she wrapped her hand around him, he shuddered in surrender. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her arms and legs around his body. The water was still warm and trickled down their skin, washing away the sweat. He panted and pushed himself inside of her. He slid slowly at first, and when she didn’t resist, he went harder. She cried out with pleasure, and he gasped with a sudden excitement at how easy it was. He did everything she allowed, and slowed down only when her sounds echoed pain instead of pleasure. When she cried out his name, it felt so good that he grew dizzy. His face was hidden in her neck, both of them had their eyes closed. They weren’t ready to look at each other just yet. Weren’t ready for it to feel real. But when they were released in the rush of it all, it felt more real than life itself. They were a little awkward this time. She was coy, and he knew it covered her sudden shyness. He looked away more than he wanted to. But when her hands touched him again, he couldn’t resist. It was like magnetism, and it was starting to make him a bit angry. He shoved the anger aside, saving it for later. This time, they were up against the wall in an abandoned hallway. He had come back from training, sweaty and tired, and she was still in her lab coat and heels, returning from work. It was the day after the episode in the shower, and he had been thinking about her all day. That made him angry too, but when she smiled at him that way, he gritted his teeth and let her have her way. You couldn’t say “no” to something that felt so damn good. This time, she let him dominate her a bit. He was afraid, deep inside, that he wouldn’t be good at it, but the way her body bent toward him, molded to him, made him realize it was what she wanted. He pinned her against the wall, letting the towel around his waist drift to the floor shamelessly. He was hard on her in a second, grinding against her leg. She arched forward, her lab coat already off, her skirt hiked up over her knees. She kissed his neck, nibbled a bit. He growled into her hair, and she chuckled with pleasure. Her hands were sliding up his hot back, and it was driving him insane with want. Down went the hose, along with the panties, and then he was in. So fast that he gasped. He wanted to say her name, but he bit it back, growling out “Woman…” instead. Her face was in his neck, and she was climbing him. He grabbed her, pulling her up again. They were pushing, pulling, gasping. He felt like he would bury her into the wall. She screeched, and he pulled her hair. They bit at each other. He pushed in and out of her for much longer than he thought he could handle, and when he reached his climax, he thought he would become Super Saiyan for sure. They panted into each other’s necks, and when they pulled away and looked at each other, their lips were an inch apart. He wanted to kiss her, but something held him back. He would wait for her first. But she only groaned, grabbed the back of his hair, and bit his earlobe. Then she pulled away from him, her body unwrapping, her pantyhose sliding back up, her lab coat yanked back on. She arched an eyebrow at him and walked away before he could react, hips swaying. He thought that would be the last time. And he was both relieved and disappointed. They were on each other like a freight train. She had fallen asleep on the couch, a book on her stomach. He had only passed by, on his way to the kitchen. But she looked more edible than food. All he did was touch her face, a sudden feeling of want mixed with panic in him. Before he could question what he was doing, her face leaned into his hand, and she moaned. She knew it was him, even in her sleep. The idea of her being that obsessed with him blew his ego up like a hot air balloon. When she opened her eyes, he could see his own want reflected in them. He looked around to make sure they were alone; her parents had gone to bed. The TV glowed static all around them. Her plump lips parted, whispering, “Vegeta…” And he was instantly hard. She knew, somehow, and she reached up, yanking on his shirt. He let himself get pulled over the back of the couch, landing on her with a grunt. He wondered what he had crushed, but she just laughed excitedly. He took over again, his hands in her hair, and this time he wanted more. He pushed her shirt up, his hands cupping. She moaned with consent, and he felt her nipple harden under his thumb. She pushed her thighs against his, seeking out his erection. He grunted, biting his lip, coming so close to finishing. But he pushed it back somehow, concentrating on exploring her body. He didn’t want it to go fast this time. She realized what he was doing soon enough, and let him. Soon, he had one hand on her breast, the other sliding down the length of her leg and up her shorts. He was pleased to find no underwear, and his fingers went in deeply. She bit her lips and cried out, and he chuckled softly. He’d never realized that pleasuring someone else could be so fun. They ended up releasing each other just by touch that time, and in the end, he still wanted to kiss her mouth. When they found each other a few days later, they both had the same look in their eyes. However, she stopped him right before he started taking her clothes off. He growled with impatience, but stayed his hands. His eyes held a question, and she was about to answer. “Follow me,” she whispered. He nodded, his heart surging in anticipation. They had been in the same abandoned hallway again, but apparently, she had something else on her mind. He followed her until they came to a small, private swimming pool. He didn’t smell chlorine, and was grateful. She noticed his expression and mentioned it was kept clean with salt water. When she took off her clothes and dove in gracefully, he couldn’t care less what was in that water. Except her. He dove in after her. They were assaulted with sudden new senses. Her hair looked so good wet, and her skin shone. She pushed a hand through his wet hair and moved closer. Her face so close to his drove him mad, and he couldn’t stop staring at her plump, wet lips. She noticed and finally brushed them against his lips. He gasped through his nose and pressed against her savagely. She could feel his teeth, and she bit back. They treaded water together, and he pushed her into the concrete tile. When he drove into her, she gasped, but not with pleasure this time. The water felt wrong, dry somehow. There was unwanted friction. He pulled her up onto the concrete, out of the water. When he settled his body on hers, she wrapped her legs around his waist, grateful that they didn’t have to say a word to read each other. This time, while he moved in and out of her, he looked into her deep blue eyes. They kept eye contact the whole time, and when she came, he fell in love with the look of adoration she gave him. It was one in the morning. He was haunted with images from that afternoon by the pool. After they had finished, they’d slipped back into the water, and for the first time, talked afterward. She started by asking him coyly if he was enjoying his stay on Earth, and he responded by saying that the “accommodations were much better than he’d had in a long time.” That had caused her to laugh, and they tried out that kissing thing again. He couldn’t get over how her lips felt against his. It was like she was reading his mind, looking into his soul. Although it scared him, letting her in so much, he also felt like she wouldn’t judge him for the things he had done. Now, when he went down to the kitchen, unable to sleep and a bit hungry, seeing her standing next to the open refrigerator, clad in nothing but a short silk bathrobe, he wanted more. He snuck behind her, putting his mouth an inch above her ear. “Hey, woman,” he whispered gruffly. She started, letting out a screech. He covered her mouth with his hand, and she went limp. Alarmed that he’d caused her to faint, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up. But she turned around and beat his chest with her tiny fist, then laughed. “You bastard. Scared the shit out of me.” He hated being called ‘bastard’. He was a prince, royalty. But when he felt his face flush with anger, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a hard kiss. His anger melted, and it felt like his body did too. They fell against the fridge, slamming the door against her back. The kissing went on for a while, but when his hands climbed up her naked leg, she resisted again. “What?” he growled. Her eyes flicked over to the empty counter. “There? Are you kidding me, woman? That’s where we…” She huffed an exasperated sigh and broke away from him. He watched as she went to a lower counter, next to the sink. She propped both of her elbows on it and bent over. She wasn’t wearing anything under the short robe, and he gasped. His eyes absorbed her for a moment, mind reeling at her brashness. She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow arched. She was ready, willing, and open for him. He pulled at the drawstring on his pants, hands aching to clamp onto her thighs. Something stopped him from taking her with such force. He moved his hands up and down on her skin first, the repetitive motion stroking his own lust. He grabbed and cupped, first her bottom, then her breasts, which were falling out of the robe. He kissed the length of her spine, enjoying how much she was squirming with desire. When he pushed his fingers in, she started to pant and gasp. He let her come, enjoying her close tight around his fingers. Then he pulled them out, wiping them on her silk robe. Her body was limp and soft against his. She trembled as he pushed his erection into her, slowly. He gritted his teeth. Everything in him wanted to release, but he wouldn’t let it happen yet. She arched her back, pushing, and he went in deeper. His hands went to her hips, and he pulled her to him. Soon, he was driving deeper and harder. Her breasts fell out of her robe completely, and they swayed gently as he rocked her. He groaned, swearing. “Hng... fuck! Ahah, woman!” He shook her whole body, and she cried out his name again and again. With each grunt, she said it, “Vegeta... Vegeta... Ah... Vegeta!” Just when he couldn’t believe that it could feel any better, it did. He was sweating now, holding back his seed until the last possible moment. He managed to rock her for a whole five minutes until he exploded. He shouted this time without holding back. “Aahhh, god... dammit... Bulma…” His voice trembled over her name, and his body quivered with smaller explosions as he pushed in and out of her a few more times. She was shaking under him, panting. He felt a warm gush as she came as well, and he held on to her, laying his cheek on her back. His breath was warm on her skin. “Vegeta,” she whispered. After a few more strokes, he drew himself out of her, shuddering. She slumped against the counter, totally spent. His hand went up and down her spine, and when she turned around, his lips were on hers. He kissed her softly this time, then lifted her effortlessly. He settled into a chair, his pants cinched up again. He pulled her onto his lap. They stared at each other for a while. She brushed the hair from his eyes. “I didn’t know it did that.” “It’s been that way since I was a child,” he whispered. “I just push it back…” She smiled at him, and kissed his widow’s peak. His arms were firm around her. He could tell she wanted to ask him other things, but he said he was tired and turned his head away. She nodded and leapt from his lap. As he watched her leave, he knew that, unless he left this place, she was going to ask him what they were doing. What was going to happen. And he had no clue what to tell her. A week later, he was in a deep sleep when she woke him. He was startled, and warned her never to do that again. He could be violent when woken, but she just shrugged it off. She got under his covers and started kissing him all over. She started with his chest, then worked her way down to his hips. His erection sprung out of his pants when she loosened them, sliding them down his hips. He kicked them aside, then gasped when he felt her mouth on him. Her hands worked up and down as well, and she was using her tongue. He bit down on his lower lip so hard that he tasted blood. She kept going, her mouth tightening on him, and he choked on a curse. “Damn, woman... How do you… Hng!” His hands found her hair, and he pulled, none too gently. She flinched a little, but didn’t stop. She sucked and pulled, circled with her tongue. His other hand gripped the bedsheet until it tore. He swore louder. Some of his words were Saiyanese. He didn’t care about anything in the whole universe at that very moment, except for her mouth on his manhood. This was a pleasure that he never knew existed. In any realm. Just when he was on the edge of exploding, and trying to figure out how not to do it in her mouth, she pulled away. The noise he made in his throat was almost a sob. He was moments away from begging her to take him back in. But she crawled up, her hands on his hips, then his ribs. Then, oh gods, she was sitting on him. She lowered herself gently onto him, her hands on his stomach. She pushed down and gasped. "Ah...Vegeta..." Her head tilted back, and she started to rock on him. His hands went to her hips, and he pushed her down deeper. His hips thrust, and he cried out. He wasn't even making any sense anymore with what he said, and he didn't give a single fuck. This was pleasure in its purest form. This was a beautiful woman, making love to a prince. And he was surrendering himself to her. He pushed his head back into the pillow, and his eyes screwed shut. But on the edge of orgasm, he suddenly wanted to look at her. He blinked his eyes open, and she was watching him. With each push, he could see the pleasure washing over her face. She took him in fully, and he wanted to stay inside her for as long as possible. He panted and grunted, the whole time, watching her. Her body was so lithe, her skin so white. Her breasts bounced with each movement, and her voice sounded suddenly so lovely calling his royal name. She was whispering other things too, like "babe" and something about love. He knew it was nonsense, but he didn't even care. She rocked on him hard and fast for quite a while before he gave in. When he felt her warmth rush between his legs, he released his own, hard. His head swam, and his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. "Oh...gods..." He panted. She moved on him a few more times, and then withdrew. He made a sound then, a soft needy sound. He didn't want her to go this time. He pulled her to his chest, and she sighed, collapsing onto him. She kissed his neck and wrapped her arms under his head, finding his hair. It was damp with sweat. He trembled, out of breath for quite a while. He was startled by this sudden rush of feelings he had for this woman. He knew he should leave, go into space right away. She was a distraction. But he had never known anything like this in his entire life. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay like this, in the dark, sweaty and breathless with her forever. What the hell was the matter with him? What had he become? Soon, he felt her energy lower as she drifted off into sleep. He was just wondering if he should make her leave when she buried her face into his hair and murmured, "I love you..." He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like he was choking. When she fell asleep, a single hot tear slid down his cheek and landed into her hair. The last person who had said that had been his mother. He had to get off this planet. Now. In the morning. Yet, his arms squeezed her naked body, so soft on his. Not now. He could wait.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: anime Chapter 1 I don't own Ranma or its characters, and I make no money from writing these stories. Kuno couldn't believe what a waste of a night it was turning out to be when he spent the evening at the Tendo house, where he and the other teenagers were completely unchaperoned. Himself, Ranma, Akane, Nabiki, Ryoga, Mousse, and Shampoo were there, playing a juvenile game of seven minutes in heaven, where the couples were chosen by spinning the bottle. Although Tatewaki hadn't been expecting an orgy or anything like that, he had thought things might be a little more exciting, given that they were horny teens drinking. Instead, it was pretty dull. He was even thinking about leaving once dinner and dessert were finished. "Next into the closet are Kuno and Ukyo," Akane called, and he frowned at this. He and the other men had made speculations about the women of the group at one point or another and had decided that Kasumi was the quiet sort, who would be highly enthusiastic in bed. Akane was someone who would need to be lovingly coaxed while initiating her into womanhood, but the result would be an enthusiastic partner. Nabiki would be the sort most likely to bring a whip and wear leather lingerie to bed. Shampoo would be an almost violent bed partner who would bite and scratch her mate. As for his sister, had he been curious, the other boys considered she would be spooky and strange. That, of course, left the chef, Ukyo, who seemed to lack the slightest trace of sex appeal, who would most likely be frigid and a future spinster. Tatewaki hadn't been laid for ages and was on edge; he'd been hoping he would go into the closet with Nabiki, so that he could at least have a quickie with her. But nope, he had to be stuck with the cross-dresser. He tried not to fume as he settled in beside her and vowed he would go and visit one of his regular lovers soon. He didn't maintain local relationships, so as not to spoil his chances with Akane and his Pigtailed Girl. So, those he slept with on a regular basis were in neighboring towns, and they understood that it was only a casual relationship to be had with him, and birth control must be used at all times. That is the one bit of wisdom that he had learned from his father, and that was: sew your wild oats where you will, but make sure that there are none that can come home to meet you. He rolled his eyes as they shut the door, leaving them in almost full darkness, and wondered what to do, doubting he would even get to cop a feel off of Ukyo. He examined the place; there was just enough room for them to stretch out or stand. "So, what do you want to do?" he whispered to her. "You can kiss me if you want," she suggested hesitantly. He almost groaned; great, he could make out with a girl and get hot and bothered and still have no sexual relief in sight. Then he started to grin as an idea occurred to him that would be a fun prank to play on the food-obsessed girl, and that might just get her off. "Okay," he said, as he reached under her shirt and started tugging her leggings down, and her panties came with them. "What are you doing?" she cried with a blush, as he pushed her back against the floor. "You said I could kiss you," he replied, holding her leggings halfway down her thighs, as she frantically scrambled to pull them back up. "I meant my lips," she cried out. "So do I," he said, as he pinned her hips in place with his hands, just managing to make out the sleek darkness of her pubic hair and her pouting pink lips. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to orally pleasure you and make you feel good," he assured her. She stopped struggling at this. "But I barely know you," she said, covering her pussy with her hand; he was sure that if he could see her face, it would be bright red. He gently brushed her hand away, transfixed to see the seemingly sexless woman exposed like this. "Are you a virgin?" he asked her. "Yes," she said, tugging futilely on her leggings, and wishing Kuno would stop staring at her pussy, that she had intended for only Ranma to see once they were married. "You still will be afterwards. You can neither get pregnant nor lose your virginity this way. It's good, harmless fun, and I can guarantee that you will enjoy it," he said, as he started to stroke her curls amorously, making sure not to touch her internally, and she shivered at how near he was to her untouched slit, as he toyed with her most private place, and she shivered again at the hint of arousal he was stirring up in her, as he manhandled her virgin sex. "You won't tell anyone what we did?" she asked him, as she bit her lip, when she felt herself dampening already, as his fingers traced the outlines of the petals of her sex, until they started to unfurl under his ministrations, and he sensed her resistance was at an end. "I promise," he said, as he tugged her leggings all the way down and off of her reluctant body, and she shivered slightly to be bared so indecently that way before a near stranger. He only needed them pulled down a bit, but somehow the sight of her fully naked from the waist down was more erotic for him, and probably more embarrassing for her. He moved into position and pushed her legs as wide apart as he could in the tight space. She gasped as he first sucked each lip into his mouth and gently suckled them, until he parted her with his tongue insistently, allowing it to glide up and down the length of her sensitive slit, savoring her taste and encouraging her wet flow; she tasted of rainwater and wild strawberries, as his tongue glided in her, sometimes agonizingly slow, and other times it lashed in her, until she cried out his name. Outside the closet, Nabiki asked Ryoga, "What do you think they're doing in there?" at the loud moans issuing from the closet. "Perhaps someone should check on them?" she suggested, not even noticing when Ryoga pushed her jumper down to her waist and gently undid the buttons of her shirt and pushed the poofy-sleeved blouse down her arms, until he placed it on the ground. He licked his lips at the sight of her breasts cupped in a tiny ice-blue bra and lightly massaged the tops of them, before unfastening and removing that too. She softly mewed as he cupped her pale, silken globes, as he caressed her diamond points to full arousal. They seemed to fill his large hands perfectly, and he delighted in cupping and lightly squeezing them. "Don't worry about them," he said, as he moved her head to the side, so he could kiss her. "But she could be in danger," Nabiki protested faintly, as she felt her skirt being lifted and her panties bared. Ryoga's hand started to rub her with the heel of his hand and trace her lips themselves through her matching ice-blue panties, and he smiled triumphantly as the wet spot appeared on the light-colored fabric, that continued to grow, until they were soaked and almost transparent, and she writhed and gasped at his hands explored her through her thin barrier. "She wouldn't be moaning 'oh Kuno' if she wasn't enjoying herself," Ryoga assured her. "Now, do you want me to take your panties off?" he asked her. "Yes, take them off slowly," Nabiki said, and she bit her lip in arousal, her pussy was so, so sensitive, and Ryoga gently tugged her final barrier from her and lay her down. "Now I'm going to fuck you. Beg me to," he said, as his fingers started to caress her soaked interior to her moans. "Oh, please," she said, and he dropped his pants, and with a quick shove, he was inside her, as he fucked her hard, he reveled at the feeling of her slickness, and didn't even care she wasn't a virgin, as her legs lashed around his waist, and accepted him completely. Mousse and Shampoo could only blush, as they could see one couple having enthusiastic sex in front of them, while another appeared to be doing it in the closet. "Mousse, we should leave," Shampoo insisted. "Right after I have you, doggie style, right on this floor," he said, pointing down at it. "What did you say?" Shampoo demanded, and then gasped, as Mousse undid her dress and roughly pushed it from her, and she regretted wearing a Western-style dress held up only by spaghetti straps, as the zipper gave easily, and it pooled at her feet. "Mousse, what do you think you're doing?" she demanded, as he seized her arms and held them away from her body, to study her abject nudity, as she had worn nothing underneath. "I think I'm giving us what we both want," he said, as he held her tiny wrists together in one of his own hands, while his fingers delved into her virgin sheath, and twisted in her, in a way that soon had her silky pussy drenched, and she moaned. She blushed, as he sat her on his lap, with her legs wide open, completely exposing her to the room, but didn't try and get away, as he ravished her body with his hands, as he undressed himself, and she tried to protest, but her mounting lust demanded she surrender. She whined slightly, as with one mighty lunge, Mousse impaled her virgin pussy with his cock, and then picked her up, and placed her doggie style on the carpet, and grabbed her hips, and fucked her hard, liking how the position demeaned and insulted the proud warrior. He pounded her, as long as he could, and played with her low-hanging breasts, as he loved her, and paid her back for years of denial of her body, as he continued to ravish her, however he wanted, and she cried out in ecstasy. Meanwhile, back in the closet, he could feel her slightly jump each time he swirled on her clit itself, and lapped hard against her entrance. He was shocked at how well she responded to his oral caresses, as she cried out loudly, as he ate her. She was much more sexually exciting than she appeared; she was already dripping wet, and he had barely started. He reached up and undid her shirt, and her bandages; he simply tugged down, until her firm globes were cupped in his hands, while he manipulated those as well. The dual sensations seemed to ramp up her arousal, as she lifted her hips into his tongue fuckings. She cried out all the more, when he stabbed first one finger into her core, and then another, until he found and stroked her G-spot, as his fingers fluttered on it, and his tongue started lashing her faster and faster. Until she came with a scream, and kept moaning, and he realized, from the wild pulsations of her interior, that she was experiencing multiple orgasms... and she was still a virgin. He could only imagine what her reaction would be to full-on penetration. His strokes gentled on her, and he reared up, and she suddenly latched onto him, her heart pounded against his chest, and her breath came in gasps. He smiled at how sexually responsive she was, and saw that she had been completely mislabeled by them all. Reaching down, he reinserted his two fingers into her; her sheath was still slightly pulsating, and soaking wet, his lips played with her hardened nipple points to his heart's content, as she spread her legs wide to accommodate his large fingers, as they stroked inside her, and he realized that in two moves, he could be inside her, and knew that she craved it as well, as how she moved her hips in time with his fingers, as he lightly pistoned them inside of her, keeping her sexually on edge, and purposefully clouding her judgment. Needing her to be putty in his hands, to allow him to deflower her. "Please," she almost begged, not sure what she actually wanted him to do to relieve the aching need in her. "Please what?" he asked her, as he continued his maddening teasing of her. "Tell me what you want me to do to you," he commanded her. "Please fuck me," she begged him, too in need of sexual release to worry about safeguarding her virginity for Ranma. "Here, with your fiancé in the next room?" he chided her, but undid his pants, too eager to wait, and badly wanting to give her what they both needed, even though unprotected sex went against everything he believed in. Her hymen surrendered easily, and then he rode inside her with powerful strokes; it was only minutes before she came on him, and he marveled that he would have to keep her around for a long, long time, she felt so amazingly hot and exquisite, as if she had been designed for him alone. He fucked her through three more orgasms, and then had one of his own, with an intensity that he had never experienced before, as his final thrust parted her cervix. For Ukyo, the experience was embarrassing, but so, so good in its wickedness, as the kendoist awakened feelings in her body, she never thought herself capable of, and she fought against them, only to be swept away, as he showed her how raw pleasure could feel, and she was transported seamlessly from one orgasm to another, by someone who was barely even a friend, little more than an acquaintance, and didn't care, as she clung to him, and surrendered her entire being to him, and let him fuck her, as he would. Meanwhile, Ranma and Akane sat on the couch and held hands, as the two couples cavorted around them in different sexual positions, and the closet-based one got louder and louder. "I told you that passion pepper would help rid us of them," Ranma observed to his lover. "We still have to find someone for Kodachi," Akane pointed out. "Plenty of guys in the world for that," Ranma said, looking fondly at his fiancée, and couldn't wait to get her to bed himself, but didn't want to, in front of everyone else. Not that the free sex shows weren't helping in raising his libido. Back in the closet, Kuno and Ukyo were facing the reality of the situation, as the passion pepper started to abate a bit. "What did we do?" she cried in shock, when she realized who she had just had sex with, as she covered herself with her arms, and those he gently forced from her to lay at her sides. "We made love," Kuno said, as he continued to stroke her mainly exposed body, and undressed her the rest of the way, removed the rest of the clothes from his body, and bent over her again. She shivered, as the passion pepper spiked again, and her trembling arms came up to embrace him, and she shuddered, as the kendoist stroked her in places no one else ever had before, until she was panting with renewed sexual need. She could just make out the thickness and length of his cock in the near-dark, and she couldn't believe it had fit in her already, but it also made her hungry for him. "I'm engaged," she weakly protested, as she fought the arousal his hands elicited. "I should go home," she suggested, as he continued to stroke her, as the passion pepper raged through her system again, forcing her to realize how much she wanted him again, as her juices began flowing heavily in preparation of taking him inside her again. "You can; after we have sex again," he said. "I need you... and you need me," he insisted, as he settled himself against her, almost desperate to have her again, as the sex he had had with her was the best he had experienced in his life so far, and he longed to claim her tight little body again, a body that had known pleasure only from himself. "But," she said, as his hot cock brushed against her drenched pussy lips, and her protests died as he impaled her again, and she cried out and clutched him to her again as they traded frantic kisses, as he pounded into her. Ranma and Akane were enjoying the floor show, as a now completely naked Nabiki was down on all fours, with Ryoga toying with her clit and playing with her tits; she had fanged tooth hickeys all over her neck. Shampoo was sucking Mousse's cock with a look of revulsion on her face at the demeaning act that no Amazon woman would debase herself to do, but couldn't seem to stop herself as he continued to play with her sexually. They smiled when a disheveled-looking Kuno and Ukyo stepped out of the closet. His sex hair bordered on ridiculous, and her clothing wasn't straight. "What's going on here?" Ukyo asked in an embarrassed tone of voice, as she fought to bring her arousal under control; the sight of the two beautiful couples and the scent of sex in the air aroused her again, and she was careful not to look at Kuno, but could feel his eyes on her. "They wanted to make love, so we let them," Akane calmly said, as if it was an everyday occurrence at her place. "But it's so perverse," she said, trying not to betray the husky tones of lust in her voice. "How is it different from what you were doing with Kuno just now? Didn't you enjoy him?" Ranma purred in her ear; he knew that reminding her of it would force her to surrender to her newly developed lust for Kuno. It was imperative they remain together for his and Akane's plan to work. What better way than for them to be making love? "Nothing happened," Kuno said, flushing hotly. "There's nothing wrong with sexual attraction," Ranma said, as he shocked Ukyo by unbuttoning her blouse, noting her lack of bandages. "Stay away from her," Kuno threatened him, and she could only look at him in a sappy way, jealous of Ranma touching her; Ranma noticed with satisfaction that the love mushrooms were starting to take effect in them both. "Relax, I'm just getting her ready for you," he said, as he pushed her blouse off, and it puddled on the floor; Ukyo could only stare at Kuno like he was the most beautiful thing in the world that she had ever seen, as Akane eased his own shirt off him. "Touch her," she encouraged him, and Ranma noted how he stroked her full breasts almost romantically, while she softly moaned at their contact. "No, I can't... I'm engaged to you," Ukyo protested faintly, as Akane got behind her and lowered her leggings right to the ground. "There's no point in keeping those panties on; they're soaked," she chided her, as Kuno removed them from her himself. "There, come and make love to Ukyo some more, Kuno," Akane said, and laughed when he did nothing more than push his pants down, pick her up, ram into her, and sat down to piston himself inside her at a hurried pace; she cried out in encouragement as she rode him. "So now what?" Akane asked Ranma. "They will all have sex until the passion pepper wears off, and by that time, the love mushroom truffles will have melted and been absorbed into their systems; by the end of sunset tomorrow, they will all be wildly in love," Ranma explained. "The truffles also contained Plan B pills for the girls, so nothing will be conceived tonight." "But they're all acting so unlike themselves... Will they be okay?" Akane asked him. "It's just the sexual confidence from the passion pepper and how it affects males; it makes them more dominant, and I think all three needed that; the girls won't be hurt," Ranma assured Akane, at the sight of Nabiki being lightly spanked while Ryoga had sex with her from behind and told her "she was going to be a good girl from then on in"; Shampoo's weirded-out, but lustful face, while Mousse tittie-fucked her. As for Kuno, Ukyo looked so tiny, mounted on him, and neither could seem to get enough of having sex with each other. Akane and Ranma hurried to their bedroom to make love as well, after encouraging everyone to find themselves a bedroom for the night, and left all the new couples enjoying their new mates.
This is a fanfic story. Genre: originals Chapter 1 Note from the Author: This last year has been a bit of a learning experience for me, so I wrote this to explore the idea. Let's try something new. Enjoy. Content: fetish-mechanophilia (sentient), handjob, oral (BJ) 7th Gear by Falchion de Maine The sports car rode easily across the highway lanes, its sleek black exterior and leather interior a sight to behold. The two-seat luxury coupe was occupied by a woman with an ass clad in high-riding pink shorts that leaked fluid onto the smooth material. Her breasts bounced with each bump in the highway, barely contained by a white tank top. She felt a hand grab one perky boob, and she smiled at the gentle squeeze. "Do you remember our trip to Mexico, Leo?" she asked, shifting gears with a lusty movement over the handle, her tender, pink-washed nails stroking the surface. "Of course," responded the lilting voice of the British Isles, posh and refined, emanating from the speakers over the sound of a digital beat. "I especially remember that sexy college slut we had a threesome with. Her ass was delightful." "Marisa?" the woman recalled, now in maximum gear. She transitioned from a gentle rubbing of the gear shift to a teasing stroke, up and down with a delicate clutch. "We still text, sometimes." "We should go visit. She really knows how to drive stick," Leo said, indulging himself in a lurid pun, which elicited a titter from the horny driver. For as long as Tessa could remember, she had heard voices. It was those voices that often called her nasty things, but the name that hurt the most was 'whore'. She had prayed that in college, things would change for her. When her mother gifted her a luxury sports car as her going-away present, things did change, much for the better. Leo chuckled to himself. "What are you laughing about, handsome?" She gave a playful smile, her shift-hand sweeping over the console, each finger taking in each bump of the fabric. "Oh, just thinking about the first time we had sex." "In Mom's garage?" Tessa started to hear a new voice the day her mom brought home that car. The voice of Leo, the sexiest automobile she had ever seen. Sleek, low chassis; aerodynamic profile, and a remarkably glossy body. When she realized she had to have him, all the other voices disappeared. No one called her mean names anymore. She laughed along. "Yeah, I tried to put your exhaust pipe in my pussy." "What were you thinking?" Leo teased, a playful mocking. "I was nervous and confused, you asshole." Tessa delivered a harsh squeeze to Leo's gear shift, her mouth hung agape in a shocked grin. "My car had just slapped my ass and started flirting with me... and you're just so hot! I couldn't help but be anxious!" "Sure," Leo said, his headlights rolling with cheek behind their glass. "All I know is that you're teasing the hell out of my shaft, and there better be a blowjob waiting for me at home." "Don't you worry, baby," she said, sailing away on lustful fantasies. "When we get home, I'll suck your stick until you cum all over my tits." "You know just what to say, love." The pair coasted into the parking garage of the university dorm, and Tessa turned the keys, the engine shutting off with a clean rumble. She pushed open the door, and Leo protested. "Where are you going? You still have to suck my stick!" "Be patient, babe. I've got something special in mind," Tessa declared, and she walked away, her butt cheeks a pendulum as they poked out from under her shorts. Leo sighed, his blue engine stalled by the teasing and denial of Tessa's giving hand. She returned in short order, though, her blond hair in braids, lips aglow with gloss, cloaked in sweatpants and a university t-shirt. She slid inside. "Told you to be patient, love," she said, stroking her car's tall gear shift with one hand, and undressing herself with another. Leo watched with rapt attention as the relaxed clothes gave way to sexy lingerie of a kind he had not yet seen. A bra, hollowed out as to be little more than straps and underwire, colored night. Her breasts, jiggling twin spheres, each capped with a puffy pink cylinder, bounced freely within it. A thong squeezed between her butt cheeks like traffic, a series of strings connected by stitching. "That's worth the wait," Leo declared, as Tessa felt his hand grasp one of her big boobs, testing their elasticity with his fingers. "Now suck my stick." Tessa needed no more to say nor hear, and so she bent down to kiss the aperture she had added in the top of the gear shift. She pressed her thick pink-glossed lips to the handle, slobbering all over his car-dick. She did not leave him when she lifted her head; she was bound to him still by a band of foamy drool. She turned her head then to lick up and down Leo's shaft, her tongue lolled out, tasting the sweet leather of his interior. She went from the tight leather wrapped around the stick at the top, to the loose fabric that covered the mechanisms. Tessa teased the loose flesh with her teeth, nipping gently at it and working a soft moan out from Leo's speakers. With one final lick from the bottom to the top, the young slut pressed her lips to her car's thick cock, and finally, slid it inside. Her lips tightened around the bulb of the handle, her cheeks folded in with the suction of her blowjob. She began to bob back and forth, in love with every moment, sucking hard when she took him in, and letting up only slightly when she pulled back. "I love blowing your car-cock, baby," she moaned in the few moments her mouth was not filled by Leo, every pause punctuated by a sloppy kiss. "Tonight, it's all about you." "That's right, bitch. Keep sucking my shaft," Leo sighed, his engine rumbling with pleasure. He got to relax, while his lover took care of him. His headlights dimmed, and he let himself be driven along the highway of lust. As Tessa's lips were pulled taut by the force of her own suction, her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt a hand placed upon the back of her braided head. She smiled in her suck, lustfully perusing the interior of the car, her hands following her eyes, all the way back to that tall, girthy shaft. She wrapped both hands around the stick, and began to stroke slowly. Her bottom hand squeezed upwards, while the top hand went down, while her mouth went back up again. Each inch of his mechanical shaft was pleasured by a hand or mouth, and he gasped aloud. "Oh yes, you slut." "Yes, baby, I'm your little slut! I'm your bitch!" "And you wouldn't have it any other way. Now shut up and keep sucking." Thankful for the reminder of her duty, Tessa put into action her newest talent. She wrapped her lips around the handle, and repositioned. She grasped each of the opposing safety handles, lifting herself aloft. She pressed her feet into the console, her pussy, much to the joy of Leo, buffing against the dashboard. She was folded over like the back seat, and she was going to deepthroat her lover. With her plump butt cheeks smearing against the dash, feeling Leo's lips kiss against them, she was empowered to take all of him into her throat. She swallowed a deep breath, and slammed her head forward, piercing past her uvula, and into her gullet. She bounced up and down, eyes crossed in ecstasy, as she fucked her own mouth with him. Her spit was whipped into a foam by her motion, an allegro pulse of lust. Leo moaned in his English lilt. "This is the life. Hot bitch sucking my gear shift, all about me." "You're the king, baby. This is all for you," Tessa gasped, in her brief reprise from her facefucking. "The king. I like that." Soon, she ripped her lips from the stick, and began to stroke it hard with both hands, begging aloud for his jizz. "Cum all over me, baby! Cum right on my face!" "Oh yes, make me cum, bitch!" The stroking only grew faster. "Open your mouth!" From the hole that Tessa had so ingeniously added, a substance the color and consistency of whipped cream erupted, hosing into her mouth and all over her face. Her smiling visage was rapt with pleasure, as her car came, his facsimile semen all over her. She maneuvered, coating her own tits in sticky goo, screaming her joy all the way. "Yes, baby! Keep cumming!" Leo obliged, rocketing his cum over his bitch until she was awash in it, filling her mouth to overflowing, forcing Tessa to swallow before she could receive more of what she wanted. Her hair and eyelids were stuck together by the glue of fake cum. Under this deluge, she had her orgasm, blasting her fluid from her pussy, all over Leo's leather furniture. Finally, the orgasms ended, and the two were left cummed-out and happy. Tessa smiled as she rubbed her car's console, licking his cum off of her lips. "I love sucking your stick, love." "I love getting my stick sucked," Leo sighed in response, cheeky as always. "Good night, Leo." "Good night, Tessa."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 7th-Heaven Chapter 1: Burn Title: "Burn" Genre: Angst, Romance, One-Shot, POV Rating: PG-13, for sexual content/references Main POV: Chandler Coupling: Chandler/Roxanne (ah, good old Charox "I still love you but I won't admit it" angst… life is good) Disclaimer: Nothing from this TV show is mine. If it was, I'd be one rich little girl! But sadly, I'm not. I also don't own the words from Madonna's song "Forbidden Love", which appears at the end of this story. Setting: October, in the 8th season, right after the episode "Charity Begins At Home". This is pretty much Chandler thinking about that one night he spent making out with Roxanne in her living room (and I think when the cameras were turned, they did more, but that's another story for another day). Summary: "You know just how to burn me, Roxanne…" Chandler reflects on his crumbling relationship with Roxanne. Set right after the 8th season episode 'Charity Begins At Home'. Written in Chandler's POV, one-shot. You know just how to burn me, Roxanne. You know just how to set my heart on fire. You always have, Roxanne. But now you're breaking my heart. But why, Roxanne, why? Why did you choose Paul over me? How could you choose Paul over me? Paul doesn't care about you like I do, Roxanne. I love you. But what does that matter to you? I just want you to know that you broke my heart, Roxanne Richardson. You're the queen of the heartbreakers. Yet I still love you. I still find myself bleeding for you. Roxanne Richardson, you have burned me. You have set my heart into flames. You watch me burn up in your heartbreak and you just laugh to yourself. But why, Roxanne? Why do you laugh at me? You're an expert at making me feel like my heart's been put in a blender and set on 'chop up', Roxanne. Yet, I'd still walk across a field of broken glass just to get to you. Just to get to you. Just to hold you. Just to kiss you. Just to make love to you, Roxanne, just like the old days. I still feel that way. You still make me sweat and hum things to myself. You still make me feel like a little boy in love, Roxanne. When in real life I'm a grown man and you're a grown woman. But only you can turn my emotions around so we're like two teenagers in love, Roxanne. Only you can make me want to take off all of my clothes and lie down next to you. And most certainly, only you can give me the urge to press myself into you and make love to you all night, Roxanne. Only you can make me want to make wild, hot, and passionate love all night, Roxanne. And of course, you're the only woman I'd ever make that or any kind of love to, Roxanne. Roxanne, you're the only woman who could bring out that side of me that I'd never let anyone else see. You're the only one who I'd ever let see that side of me. My wild and 'sexy', I guess you could say, side. I still remember that one night in your house. How could I forget it? The way we kissed. The feeling of your hot lips burning into mine. The way your hands ran through my hair and explored my body. The way you moaned and groaned and grunted as my bare body entered yours. The way we made love. I'll never forget it. We kissed passionately over and over. You were moaning with both pleasure and joy, and so was I, as our hands slid up each other's clothes and explored what was within. You giggled as my hands massaged your breasts from underneath your shirt. "Oh God... Chandler!" You kept on moaning that over and over. I was smiling inside. I knew after this that we would for surely end up back together. I mean, we were about to make love to each other. As I kissed your neck and slid the jacket that you were wearing over your tank top off, you purred, "I want you, Chandler." "I want you too... but isn't your dad home?" I asked you. "Well, yes... but he was just about to lie down for a nap before you rang the doorbell. So he's all the way up in his room with the door locked, and we're all the way down here, alone..." You said sexily as you unbuttoned my shirt and ran your fingers up and down my bare chest. We started to kiss again. And then we took all of each other's clothes off. And after that, we pressed our naked bodies together and made amazing love. The rest of that night is a huge blur to me. One minute we were making love, and the next minute we were putting our clothes back on and just kissing. "This doesn't mean anything." When you said that, Roxanne, it broke my heart. I still love you, and I always will. We made amazing love, and it 'meant nothing' to you. Nothing at all. I doubt it. I love you, Roxanne. I want to marry you. I want to have babies with you. I want to make love to you for the rest of my life. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. But you don't love me. You love Paul. You chose him over me. You made me want to die, Roxanne, you made me feel that low. I loved you, Roxanne, and I still do, damn it. Congratulations, Roxanne Richardson, you have burned me yet again. You know just how to burn me, Roxanne, and you always will... "If I only had one wish Love would always feel like this Wishing on the stars above Forbidden love If I only had one dream This would be more than it seems Forbidden love" - Alexa
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 7th-Heaven CinderSimon Chapter 1: CinderSimon "Simon, get your ugly little ass down here now!" Eric Camden shrieked as he fixed his wig in the mirror. Simon moaned from his back, crippling position upstairs, where he was sewing clothing for his family. Ever since Annie had died in a freak river dancing accident, where she was stomped to death, his family had hated him. Eric had brainwashed all his siblings to believe he was the cause of their mom's death, even though he took ballet and was on stage after the river dancers. After Annie's death, Eric changed. No longer was he the cheerful, gay community pastor. Now, he was the creepy, psychotic man who lusted after other men, turning away from the Lord. He married a nice "woman" named Gregetta, who was formally known as Greg before his sex change operation. "Simon, get down here!" Eric screeched again. He watched in amusement as Simon attempted to run down the stairs, but his deformed back, which was curved from endless labor, prevented him, and he tumbled to the bottom. "Come on, Quasimodo, I have a special chore for you," Eric said as he led Simon into the living room, where his whole family was sitting, ready to go out to a festival that the royal family of Camdentownsville was hosting. They all had designer clothes on; he glared jealously at his own clothes - torn shreds from the Goodwill. "Now, Simon, when we come home tomorrow morning, I expect this room to be spotless," Eric stated as he walked over to random glass objects and smashed them onto Simon's body, making shards of glass stick into him. "Do you understand? Can your mind comprehend such a simple chore?" "Hehe, I bet he will screw up!" Gregetta clapped her hands delightedly, then took Eric's arm as they walked out the door. "Haha, Simon, clean up this!" Matt said as he pulled his pants down and started pissing everywhere - the floor, curtains, dinner table, and furniture. "Yeah, and this!" Ruthie joined in as she dropped her pants and took a dump on the coffee table. Simon stood there, unmoving, until he heard the front door close and lock, signifying he was alone in the house. He dramatically dropped to his knees and started crying. "Now, now, what is thy problem, child?" a voice said. Simon looked up and screamed. Standing before him was a 6ft tall centaur wearing a pink dress. "My poor, poor child, come here," but Simon only cowered away. The centaur really frightened him. He had dark, curly hair, with a mustache and long beard with things stuck in it. And when he talked, his voice sounded like your grandma's. "W-who are you?" Simon shrank back as the monster came closer. "Why... I am your fairy godfather!" the centaur exclaimed. "Oh, hell no!" Simon replied. "Oh, hell yes!" the centaur said with a smile. After an hour, Simon calmed down enough to explain his family situation to Twinkles, the centaur. "So, let me get this straight," Twinkles said while knitting, "your family is at a weekend getaway, where they are staying with the royal family? And you are here cleaning up the house... HAHA, sucks to be you!" "Twinkles, you bitch! My life sucks. All I ever wanted was to see Prince Faageet. I think he is so sexy," Simon stated, as he dreamily glanced out the window. Suddenly, he felt a warmth around him, and a cloud of dust covered his body. When it dissipated, he was wearing a sexy black strapless miniskirt, matched with sparkling 4-inch purple high heels with cute little butterflies on them. He took one step towards the mirror but tragically fell and snapped both his ankles. He lay on the floor in a shape similar to a macaroni noodle, due to his back. "Hahaha - oops, I mean poor Simon! Let me help you," Twinkles said, as he shook his sequin tail, and Simon now had the ability to walk in high heels. As Simon glanced in the mirror, he nearly fainted from his own beauty. "Okay, Simon, stop gawking, you are not that pretty! Go to the party, but you better be home by 4 am, or your clothes will disappear, and you'll be naked! Byee!" Twinkles said, as he banished into a puff of smoke. Simon somehow got to the party. Maybe he walked, or ran, or biked - who cares? But as he opened the huge palace doors and started to walk down the staircase, his eyes met Prince Faageet across the room. Prince Faageet femininely sauntered over to Simon, because, just look at his name, he had to live up to it. "Hey, beautiful, what's your name?" Prince Faageet asked. "Omgish! My name is Simon, your highness!" Simon replied. "Do you care to dance?" Prince Faageet asked. "Why, yes, I would like that very much," Simon said. Prince Faageet didn't seem disgusted as he put his hand on Simon's deformed back to waltz, and Simon knew that this was pure love. Time flew past as Simon was grinding on the dance floor to "My Humps," showing off his own back hump. Little did he know that it was almost 4 am. He was so caught up in the rapture that, as the clock struck 4, his clothes disappeared. The remaining guests laughed at him. Prince Faageet stared at him for a long time without blinking. Simon ran away in tears, but Prince Faageet ran after him, catching him in his arms. "Oh, Simon, you're so beautiful, marry me?" Prince Faageet asked. "Of course!" Simon exclaimed. They spent the night at the castle, partaking in various activities, and the next day, they were married. THE END
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 7th-Heaven Forgiveness Chapter 1: Forgiveness "Tell me about the accident, Simon," Stanley said. "There's nothing to tell," Simon replied. "Simon..." "Stanley, I've been coming here for six months. We've talked about the accident, and there's nothing else to tell," Simon said, his frustration evident. "Simon, in the six months that you've been here, we've talked about everything but the accident and what's been going on with you," Stanley countered. "That's not true..." "We've talked about your family and your girlfriends and your schoolwork, but we haven't talked about this. This is your last session, Simon. It's your last chance," Stanley emphasized. "I don't know what you want to hear!" Simon exclaimed. "I want to hear what happened," Stanley said gently. Simon closed his eyes and drew a shuddered breath. It was hard to breathe, and he was cold. "I was driving to the promenade with Christine. The college station was playing some new rap song... she didn't like it. I wanted... I wanted her to be happy... so I changed the station," Simon explained. "Why?" Stanley asked. "Why, what?" Simon replied, confusion etched on his face. "Why did you want her to be happy?" Stanley clarified. "What does it matter, is it so wrong to want people to be happy?" Simon asked, his voice laced with defensiveness. "No, but I don't think that's the whole of it," Stanley said, his eyes locked on Simon's. "You know, this is crazy, I'm just going to go," Simon said, making a move to leave. "Don't do that, Simon. Please, talk to me. Tell me about the accident and why you wanted Christine happy," Stanley urged. Simon pressed into his seat, the weight on his chest overwhelming. He didn't want to talk about it and had, in fact, been avoiding the subject during his entire run with the therapist. He was tired. "I wanted Christine to like me. To like being with me. Because when people like people... when they like being together... things can happen," Simon said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What things?" Stanley asked, his eyes never leaving Simon's face. Simon's head was beginning to hurt. "Things I shouldn't have been thinking about," he admitted. "Sex," Stanley stated, his tone neutral. Simon looked down at the floor, his chin beginning to quiver as a single tear slid down his cheek. "When I was changing the station, Paul came out of nowhere. Christine screamed, and I looked up, but it was too late," Simon recounted, the memories flooding back. Kid, are you all right? Can you hear me? The voices echoed through his brain, memories of the night Paul had died. When he stood outside his car, wrapped in a blanket, as paramedics and police wandered the streets. They seemed distant, but just as real. "I... I asked for forgiveness. Dad took me to the church, and I... but... I didn't deserve it. I didn't want it, but all you have to do is ask. You just have to ask, and you're clean. So... I did things. Things that would take it back," Simon said, his words tumbling out. "You think God cares how much sex you have, Simon?" Stanley asked, his expression thoughtful. "Doesn't he? Dad says..." Stanley gave a warm, reassuring smile. "I think God's got enough worries on His plate," Stanley said, his smile fading. He didn't look angry, just somber, with a clear desire to help. "You really need forgiveness, though." "I don't understand. You just said God doesn't care, and I already asked for the accident," Simon said, confusion etched on his face. "Not from God, Simon. From yourself. You need to ask yourself for forgiveness for the accident, for what you've done since that you're ashamed of... everything," Stanley explained. "I'm sorry," Simon said, looking Stanley in the eye, his voice sincere. Stanley stood up and sadly shook his head. "Haven't you learned anything, Simon? I can help you. I want to help you, but you have to help yourself first. I can't do everything for you. I won't," Stanley said, checking his watch before looking down at the boy. He looked so young, not a day older than when he had asked, repeatedly, for a dog. He knelt next to the boy and gently took his hand. "Our time's up," he said softly, "and I have to go now. When you're ready to go home, my assistant Peter will set things up. Good luck, Simon." Without another word, he was gone, leaving Simon alone in the darkness. "Wait!" Simon yelled, tears streaming down his face. His body ached, and he was soaking wet. Noise from the street streamed in through the window, but he barely heard it. "I'm sorry!" he called out, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean for any of it, and I'm sorry! Please! Please... tell me it's okay. I'm so... I'm so sorry." Paramedics and firefighters worked for what seemed like hours to free the boy from his crumpled car. The window was broken, but he was pinned to his seat by a steering column that wouldn't budge. They gave it everything they had, but it just wasn't enough. His family would spend the following days in a fog, questioning what had happened at every turn. Was it an accident? Was it suicide? Could they have tried harder or done anything differently? Could they have loved their son more? Following the funeral, his family and friends would reminisce about the good old days, when the only problems were pajamas that didn't fit and the occasional cigarette. Rodney would remember something else, though. For the paramedic whose wavering faith had caused the highest of strains on everyone close to him, his one and only memory would be the boy's last words. They pulled him from the wreckage, and as they laid him on the gurney, he grabbed Rodney's hand. He spoke, but Rodney couldn't make out the words through the rain and thunder. The boy pulled him closer, and with a genuine, comforting smile, he looked off into the distance and spoke for the last time. "It's okay."
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 7th-Heaven Goodbye, for Now Chapter 1: Goodbye, for Now Genre: Drama, Romance, One-shot, Song-fic Rating: G Main POV: Roxanne Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own 7th Heaven or the lyrics to S Club (7)'s song "Say Goodbye". Setting: Sometime in June after the 8th season ended. Summary: "I realized then and there that I still loved him, he still meant everything to me." Roxanne's POV. One-shot. (Chandler/Roxanne) I sighed as I walked up to his house. I wished I didn't have to say goodbye to him and everyone else I had become so close to in Glen Oak so soon. I felt like if I left, I was leaving a piece of me behind. That's how I felt when I left my childhood hometown. And now, I was leaving here. I wondered if anyone would even miss me when I was gone. I rang his doorbell. In the years to come, will you think about these moments that we shared? He opened his door. "Roxanne?" "Hi, Chandler." I felt awful for just leaving him like this, but I had to. It was too late; I had already joined the army and would be on my way to Iraq in a mere matter of weeks. "What are you doing here?" Chandler asked, studying my face for an answer. "Can I come in?" It felt awkward to be going into his house again after not being there since our break-up. In the years to come, are you gonna think it over, and how we lived each day with no regrets? As we sat down on his living room couch, I asked, "So, where's Jeffrey?" Jeffrey was Chandler's adopted son. "He's at Kendall's house for a tutoring session," Chandler replied. I cringed. Kendall was Jeffrey's tutor and Chandler's new girlfriend. And she was as rude, loud, and annoying as they came. But, not to hurt Chandler's feelings, I quickly put on a fake smile. "Oh," I said. "That's um, nice." "I guess," Chandler said, changing the subject. "But why are you here?" Nothing lasts forever, though we want it to. The road ahead holds different dreams for me and you. Sometimes goodbye, though it hurts in your heart, is the only way for destiny. Sometimes goodbye, though it hurts, is the only way now for you and me. Though it's the hardest thing to say, I'll miss your love in every way. So say goodbye, but don't you cry, because true love never dies. I looked at him and saw that he was calmly waiting for a reply. So I replied, "I just came to say goodbye." He looked at me with a confused look on his face. "Goodbye? What do you mean?" I took a deep breath. "I mean I'm leaving for my training camp tomorrow, then for Iraq in mid-July." "So soon?" I swear I saw tears in his eyes. I felt tears come to my own eyes. "Yeah, Chandler, so soon." In a year from now, maybe there'll be things we'll wish we'd never said. In a year from now, maybe we'll see each other, standing on the same street corner. No regrets. Each and every end is always written in the stars. If only I could stop the world, I'd make this last. Chandler was crying now. "I'll miss you." I smiled through my tears. "I'll miss you too." "Promise you'll write to me?" he asked. "I promise to write to you forever and always," I replied. We just looked at each other, with tear-stained eyes, for what seemed like ages. I looked into Chandler's deep blue eyes. They were so amazing, so perfect. I could stare into them forever. I could stay with Chandler forever. I'll always care for Chandler. Sometimes goodbye, though it hurts in your heart, is the only way for destiny. Sometimes goodbye, though it hurts, is the only way now for you and me. Though it's the hardest thing to say, I'll miss your love in every way. So say goodbye, but don't you cry, because true love never dies. I realized then and there that I still loved him, he still meant everything to me. That kiss, that moment, it was all too perfect. I still loved Chandler. But he had Kendall now; he didn't need me. I felt broken. And when you need my arms to run into, I'll come for you. Nothing will ever change the way I feel. Sometimes goodbye, though it hurts in your heart, is the only way for destiny. Sometimes goodbye, though it hurts, is the only way now for you and me. Though it's the hardest thing to say, I'll miss your love in every way. We pulled away from each other. "Um," I stammered. "I'd better get going." Chandler smiled awkwardly. "Um, sure, bye." As I walked out the door, I heard him call, "Don't forget to write!" "I won't!" I shouted back. As I got into my car and drove down the street, I realized something. I'd always love Chandler. No matter what, he'd be a part of me forever. No matter what kind of claim Kendall staked on him, he'd always be my Chandler. Sometimes goodbye, though it hurts in your heart, is the only way for destiny. Sometimes goodbye, though it hurts, is the only way now for you and me. Though it's the hardest thing to say, I'll miss your love every day. So say goodbye. But don't you cry. Because true love never dies. So with that said, Chandler, I'll always love and remember you. You'll always be in my heart and on my mind. Goodbye, for now. The End -Alexa
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 7th-Heaven Home is Where the Heart is *Chapter 1: Home is Where the Heart is* Mary had just arrived back in Glenoak after her breakup with Ben. She thought back to their last conversation and cried softly, knowing she never wanted to leave things the way they did, but they were both too stubborn to admit they were wrong. She picked up her bags and rented a car, driving to a motel for the night. She wasn't ready for the onslaught of the Camden family telling her she had screwed up once more. She sniffled as she drove into the motel car park, and once she stopped the car, she dried her eyes and tried to calm herself down. She went up to the reception desk to ask if there were any rooms available. At the counter was a young lady working the desk; she cleared her throat to get the woman's attention. "Um, excuse me, but I was wondering if you had a room available for a few nights?" she asked softly, hoping they did. The woman looked at her computer and looked back at Mary. "Yes, we do, as a matter of fact. How long would you like to stay?" Mary answered back, "I was hoping just for one or two nights, if that's alright." The woman, whose name tag read Megan, smiled. "Yes, that would be fine. Now, if I could get some details from you and a credit card payment?" Mary gave her the details she needed and paid for the room, then went back to her car to get her bags out and walked up to her room. She unlocked the door and closed it, dragging her bags over to the bed, where she sat herself down and felt the tears fall silently down her face. She wished she could have the courage to go see her family, but she knew what they were like. They were always telling her how she was doing this wrong and that wrong, and she never seemed to do anything right. More than anything, though, she wished for Ben to be there, holding her in his strong arms. She had never let anyone in like Benjamin Kinkirk, and she was in love with him with all her heart and soul. She knew they started off rocky, with her being with Wilson still and all, but she was now finally over Wilson and Robbie, for that matter, and all she wanted was Ben. He still didn't trust her fully, and she remembered the argument they had. It was over something stupid and little, but of course, it blew up into something bigger, involving her not being responsible and mature enough for him. She didn't know how many times she had to try to prove this to him; she had a stable job with the airline as an air hostess and was living happily in Buffalo with him for six months now. She had not laid eyes on another man since the night they found their way back into each other's lives. She thought about calling him, but she didn't want to get into yet another argument and have it lead to either of them saying something they both might regret. She slowly stood up and grabbed her bag, opening it up and grabbing her pyjamas, and heading to the bathroom, where she had a nice hot bubble bath. Once she had finished in the bath, she dried off and put her pyjamas on and headed to bed, crying herself to sleep. In the morning, after a sleepless night without Ben, she decided to head back to Buffalo to try to straighten things out with him. She packed up and drove all the way to Buffalo, stopping on the way to get some gas and something to eat. She got there, knowing he would be at work, so she would have a few hours to think about what she would say. She walked into their apartment and smiled softly. She could still smell his aftershave in the air, and it comforted her in a way. She cleaned up and waited for him to get home. She was busy getting dinner ready when she heard him unlock the door. She smiled softly as he walked through the door and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek before pulling away to look deep in his eyes. "Ben, I am so sorry. I love you so much, and I want to do whatever it takes to make things right with you again." Ben pulled her closer, capturing her lips in his, kissing her softly on the lips, before releasing her slightly. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Mary. I shouldn't have said those things. The truth is, I do think you're very mature and responsible now. I love you more than anything in this world, and I couldn't stand being away from you." He sighed softly and caught a whiff of what Mary was cooking. "Mmm, that smells delicious, baby. What are you making?" He looked at her, smiling, he was starving and couldn't wait to taste whatever she was cooking. Mary replied, walking back to the kitchen, his comment reminding her of dinner. "It is your favourite, baked dinner." She smiled, proud of herself for cooking dinner, knowing he would enjoy it and hoping it would let them leave their past tense moods behind them. "It should be ready in about 15 minutes, so you have time to get cleaned up if you like." Ben nodded and smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek and going to wash up. Mary sighed happily, knowing that although their problems weren't magically all solved, she knew they could work it all out. She knew her heart belonged with him, and his with her. She was happy thinking about their future together, hoping they would be together for many years, like her parents.
This is a short fanfic story. Genre: tv 7th-Heaven Once I Loved You Chapter 1: Once I Loved You Lucy goes to visit Jimmy Moon at the jail after seeing him in the courtroom for Jury duty. The point of view will change throughout the story. Lucy's POV Kevin is at work with his colleague, and I wish he were here with me so I could explain what I was about to do. It's not my best idea, but I need answers. Seeing Jimmy Moon that day, I'll never forget the look on his face. I was chosen for Jury duty, but if we knew the plaintiff, we couldn't serve. He didn't see any of us until I stood up and said, "That's Jimmy Moon." He looked at me with such a look, like he was upset that I had to see him in that state. I had done quite a bit for him in the past. I looked in the mirror and brushed out my hair, the hair I had once dyed blonde, the thing that made him break up with me the first time. I broke up with him the second time. I checked my hair and outfit, and I was ready. I needed to see Jimmy. I may be in love with Kevin now, but I whispered to myself, "I once loved you." Jimmy's POV While waiting here, I've had a lot of time to think. First, I had to see what I could do to avoid getting a long sentence. I also thought about how stupid I was for doing what I had done in the first place, or maybe getting caught. Lucy Camden was my first love. Seeing her when they were choosing the jury for my trial, I will never forget that shocked look on her face. I hated seeing her there, but I was more upset with myself. Did I ever truly love her? Yes, although I was stupid the several times we broke up. I mean, over her hair, I'm really dumb. I ruined a relationship with one of the sweetest girls I've ever met. She broke up with me in our second big breakup. I deserved that. I wonder what she thought after she had to leave. She's probably dating or married to some perfect man, like a lawyer or doctor. In the back of my mind, I knew that if I had taken rejection or not done something so idiotic, maybe I could be the right man for her. "Moon, you've got a visitor," Officer Kinkirk told me. He looked angry. "You hurt her again, and I might lose my temper." There she was, Lucy. She didn't look too happy. I didn't expect her; I expected her to forget about me. The only problem is, "Once I loved you," I murmured to myself. Kevin was not happy to see me, but at the moment, I didn't care. I wasn't there to see him; I wanted to see Jimmy. I needed to know some things. When I told Kevin, I thought he would die. "What?" he asked. "I want to see Jimmy Moon," I said. "Lucy," he replied. "We're not married; you can't tell me what I can and cannot do. If you don't get him, I'll ask Sergeant Michaels," I said. Kevin looked very angry but agreed. I sat in the room and waited. Then Jimmy came. I saw his lips move for a moment, but I didn't know what he said. We were left alone. "I didn't expect to see you," he said. "I didn't expect to come, except I need some answers," I replied. "About us?" he asked. "Not quite, why you're on trial," I said. "I messed up," he said. "Really, Jimmy? I'm not exactly stupid," I said. "I'm a screw-up; is that what you want to hear?" he asked. "Jimmy, I'm not some everyday person you meet on the street. I was your girlfriend," I said. "Was is the big word," he replied. Lucy is hard to fool. "You still care about me, don't you?" I asked. "As a friend," he said. "I still want to know why you're here," I said. "I don't have to tell you," he said. "I could ask the officer," I replied. "How do you know him?" he asked. I considered lying, but that wouldn't do any good. "He's my boyfriend," I said. Jimmy grinned. "I thought you would date a doctor or lawyer," he said. "Why that?" I asked. "No reason. You just always seemed a little superficial, so I figured you'd want to marry well," he said. "You haven't seen me in years; things have changed. I'm going to be a minister," I said. "You'll be a great one. Lucy, I messed up. I've been doing drugs again. More than one offense, this time I won't get off with a warning. I kept saying I'd stop, but I couldn't," he said. I lowered my eyes. "I've heard they're addictive," I said. "You have it so easy. You and your family are just so perfect," he said. "Mary trashed the school gym and was eventually sent to Buffalo, Simon wants to have sex, and Ruthie's not a little girl anymore. And in the last year, I've made plenty of my own mistakes," I said. I had heard about Mary. "So now you know what happened," I said. "Yeah, I'll try to come to the trial. I hope everything goes well," he said. "I hated seeing you. I saw you, and that had to be one of the worst moments of my life," he said. "I know. That expression you gave me, you looked...devastated, I guess, could be the word," I said. "I guess so. I was devastated," he said. "Once I loved you," he said. "What happened?" I asked. "It ended. Jimmy, this was a mistake. I shouldn't have come," I said. "It's okay, goodbye Lucy. Just don't forget what I said, once I loved you," he said. "I loved you too," I said. When I got home, I sat on my bed. Ruthie was there. "Where were you?" she asked. I couldn't lie; she'd find out anyway. "I went to see Jimmy Moon," I said. "Why?" she asked. "To find out why he was on trial," I replied. "And?" she asked. "To tell him 'I once loved you,'" I said. The End