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snowbellewells · 3 years

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*~ Happy Month Late Birthday, Krystal! ~*

Back in October on her birthday, I promised @kmomof4 a bday fic, and even offered up a sneak peek, but it has pathetically taken this slow writer another month to finish and post said offering. (Let’s not even talk about how long @itsfabianadocarmo has been kept waiting on the story I hoped to write for her birthday...)

At any rate, Krystal has always been kind enough to show love to my little French Revolution-set CS au, and it’s largely due to her that more than a single drabble of it exists at all. Here for her belated birthday gift, I offer at last the conclusion to “A Private Revolution”. Hope you enjoy, my lovely friend!! :)

(A link to the start of the story on AO3 can be found above ^^^)

Summary: On the eve of Revolution, when it seems his whole world is falling down around him, nobleman Killian Jones is given a wonderful reason to keep fighting for his life.

Part Four

by: @snowbellewells

Darting through shadows, over downed branches, and empty grasping limbs that caught at her hair and cloak, Emma Swan dashed as fast as she could through the obscuring forest, praying she was not making more noise than those who followed. She could hear the lumbering of their heavy boots on rough terrain, as her pursuers shouted reports to one another. It seemed to her own ears that every rasp of breath through her lips or snap of a twig underfoot was magnified in heartstopping volume, sure to be the sound which gave her away, despite the much heavier and louder sounds of her enemy in pursuit. At the moment, she could do nothing else but fervently hope that impression was a product of her own panic and not the truth of the matter.

She had just hurtled over a narrow gulley before the ground sloped upward to a higher plateau. Nearly tumbling to her hands and knees, Emma righted herself - lungs screaming in protest and painfully crying for breath. She forced herself onward, shaking the moment of weakness from her thoughts and willing her trembling legs to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. The rise was gradual, and she had long since come to recognize the sign that the encampment she sought was nearing. Just a bit further, and she would be safe…

Though she had managed to slip into the revolutionaries’ base and retrieve the maps and documents they sought, Emma had known it was only a mater of time before the absence of such important papers was discovered. As if to reassure herself once more of their presence, she traced her hand over the rolled bundle she had stuffed down the front of her bodice before momentarily closing her eyes and offering up thanks to the Lord that she had managed to reach the surrounding trees before hearing the rebel leader’s voice at her back, bellowing for his men to hunt down a thief.

“Halt! You there!” a far-off voice sounded, coarse and demanding as the terrifying rabble of which its owner must be a part. The sound was nothing like the sedate and genteel tones she had heard spoken in the quiet halls and grounds of the estate they had left behind - the place which had been as a second home to her all her life. Nor did it even resemble the more raucous, but still good natured, tongue used in her family’s modest cabin on the border of Jones land. Those comforting echoes of her father and brother joking by the fireside, complemented by her mother’s laughter crinkling her lovely, rounded cheeks and warming the small space even more than the flickerings in their hearth could do, seemed further away from her present than Emma could bear. No, these calls were the war cry of the monsters who had overtaken countrymen she would once have viewed as brethren. She could hear their muffled tread along the forest path off to her right, making her skin crawl with apprehension as they seemed to gain ground despite her nearing destination.

Far from pausing as demanded, she somehow found the reserves to put on one more burst of speed. Though she could hear those voices coming frighteningly closer, the first telling the others that he had seen a flash of green which moved too quickly to have been a waving branch or grasses amid the dried browning landscape of the countryside as it edged from autumn into winter.

She was just nearing the rockface which, when rounded, led toward a frozen riverbed and beyond to the temporary base of her allies atop the growing rise, when suddenly, arms gripped her with startling force, jerking her into a hidden enclave in the rock, one that - even with her newly-acquired familiarity to the area - she had not seen, nor even known existed.

Firm, calloused fingers pressed over her mouth, smothering the angry yell that rose in her throat, and a muscled arm circled her waist tightly, immovable as steel, making escape impossible. Eyes wide, Emma fought her unseen assailant’s hold; bucking against his implacable force and clawing to break free. Until, incongruously soft lips brushed against the shell of her ear and an almost crooning tone from a voice she could never mistake, broke through her alarm. “Calm yourself, ma tigressa. Emma, ‘tis only me.”

Her body went limp with relief, collapsing against his wiry frame and the support it offered, even before he removed his muffling hand from her mouth, assured now that she no longer meant to cry out. “Killian…” she breathed, her terror melting away in an instant. On ordinary occasions she chafed at his overprotectiveness, trailing her steps to make sure she was safe, no matter how often she reminded him bluntly that she knew how to handle herself. If he were not often gone on scouting missions when she was sent into nearby towns to spy and listen for news of the insurgents’ movements, or when they needed her light-fingered touch to procure something when the bonds of military protocol did not allow such leeway, Emma knew she would have been forever tripping over Killian’s shadow as he watched over her anxiously.

But after the breathless mission from which she was returning, Emma could not deny the comfort it brought her to see him facing her, pulling her to safety in his arms as they both vanished into the unseen crevass out of their enemies’ view. Her heartbeat was still thudding rapidly against the walls of her chest, eyes wide with near-panic she quickly attempted to calm and hide. Though she had been determined to run for all she was worth, she’d not been at all certain she would escape them in time and return to see the gleaming blue depths of his eyes full of mischief and love once more.

Leaning into his steady warmth, she allowed herself the tiniest shiver of realization at how close she had come, resting her forehead against his sternum and breathing out a steadying huff of air while his lips brushed the top of her head and his arms held her, wrapping his dusky brown cloak around the both of them for further camouflage until their surroundings were truly clear.

For more soothing, silent minutes than Emma cared to measure, she huddled there with him in that break in the rocks. Little by little, the calls back and forth, the pounding of booted footsteps in pursuit, faded, moving further and further away. Still, neither of them stirred; Emma’s hands clutched tightly to Killian’s waist, her desperate hold giving away much more than she would wish. Yet, despite her lowered walls, he remained quiet, gently running his hand over her back, rocking them ever so slightly to and fro as the forest emptied to the two of them alone.

When at last she pulled away just enough to look at Killian gratefully and draw a ragged breath into her lungs, her handsome noble didn’t push, nor did he gloat. Instead, he offered her a crooked, endearing smile with twinkling eyes. “Now, now, mon trésor, missed me that much did you?”

He was allowing her to play off her fright, making light of it to put her at ease, but Emma found all that would cross her lips was the unvarnished truth. Meeting his gaze fully, she assured him, “Indeed, ma moitié. Indeed I did.”

~~~**~~~

It was well into evening by the time they once again found a quiet moment together. They had presented Liam’s superior with the maps and communications she had procured. Kudos, congratulations, and joyous celebrating had lit their camp as much as the flickering bonfire. With the newly acquired intelligence on the planned movements and targets of the rebels, it was fair to consider that they might at last strike a strong enough blow to slow the terrorizing rout plaguing their countryside. It was high time some sort of order was restored to all the innocent bystanders frightened and caught in the middle. Perhaps at last they had the foreknowledge necessary to see the work begun.

Hand-in-hand Killian and Emma made their way to a nearby clearing as the sunset burst across the sky in vibrant pink, orange, and gold. Barren and brown with fast-encroaching winter on its way, the calm and quiet of the open space, even without the tall grass and wildflowers of the field back home where they had lain under the sunlight and wide blue sky, was still a comfort. Anywhere which brought to mind the first time Killian’s tempting full lips had touched hers was welcome for how it returned to her the feeling which had fluttered within her chest as she realized for the first time that she loved him, body and soul.

Looking over at her with such warmth in his eyes, she felt that Killian must know what she was thinking and be experiencing that same fondness for the moment long ago, and gratitude that they were still together, despite how far they had come. Wordlessly, he brought their joined hands to his mouth, pressing kisses to her knuckles before loosening his grip to spread the blanket they had brought out over the ground and following her in taking a seat.

Hardpacked dirt riddled with rocks and clods was hardly ideal, nor as soft a blanket as the clover and timothy they had once enjoyed without realizing how quickly it could all be taken away. Still, Emma found herself every bit as comfortable as she lay back next to her love and gazed up at the same blue sky, despite the miles between. A sharp, biting chill had entered the air, and she shivered slightly there on the ground, but not for long, as Killian pulled her in closer to his body, wrapping the the warm material around them both. Emma gratefully snuggled further into his side, thankful as she often was, for the heat which seemed to constantly radiate from his very skin. It was almost as though the gentle warmth of his character spread throughout his physical body and she could not help but feel it when she was near him. Yet the drop in temperature made it a trait she didn’t take for granted as she tucked her head beneath his chin, resting her cheek upon his shoulder. Idly she stroked her fingertips through the hair that covered Killian’s chest where his linen shirt opened loosely at the neck, almost mesmerized by the soft feel of those dark curls to her touch.

His long, sturdy fingers eventually came up to clasp her roving hand, and pressed it to his chest, held in his own, as if wishing to keep them there in such safety and contentment despite the danger and madness raging around them constantly in the light of day.

“If only it could always be like this…” Emma whispered into the curve where Killian’s neck met his shoulder.

Hearing his wistful exhale, Emma could only huff an amazed breath when he murmured, “Aye, mon ange, if I could stop time upon this very moment, I would do so without question.” Neither of them spoke or moved for several long moments, as if holding their breath not to alert the universe to whirling and set time moving around them once more. Emma was transfixed in her lover’s sea blue gaze, transporting her as it always had to a place where she only felt cherished, safe and loved. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as she studied him, blushing and almost as nervous as she had been the first time she had shared with him her true feelings. Killian was a living, breathing work of art - and she knew her desire to touch him, to drink him in, must be conveyed plainly across her features.

Whether he read her desire or it was the sight of her lips bitten and then wetted with the tip of her tongue, Emma wasn’t sure, but Killian released a pained sort of groan in his chest. The fire radiating off his body, already a flame by which she ached to be consumed, flared hotter, and as he rolled them quickly, encasing her beneath his lithe framr, she felt just what was causing his discomfort.

Naturally opening to him as his hips settled within the cradle of her thighs, welcoming him as his delicious weight pressed carefully over her - not enough to crush, but for her to feel braced, protected, and held together. She clung to his wiry arms, savoring every shift and flex as it rippled beneath her touch. Though they might not be able to remain like this always, she would treasure each second as it passed. If she closed her eyes and allowed the sensations Killian’s teeth and tongue were causing to carry her away, Emma could almost believe they had returned once more to their familiar meadow. Instead of being separated from the people and places they knew and might not see whole again, she felt as if they a part of her again. In the end, nothing else which had been lost could matter, if she still had Killian’s hand to hold and a path to tread beside him. With Killian, she would always be at home.

Tagging a few others who might enjoy, or who have read the earlier parts: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @shireness-says @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @stahlop @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @wefoundloveunderthelight @donteattheappleshook

#bday fic #cs au ff #a private revolution #concluding chapter #CS French Revolution au #part four #happy belated birthday Krystal!!

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ivydoomkitty · 4 years

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Here's another Star Trek shot from way back when! Also happy belated birthday to one of my besties, @thekrystalmethod ! I loved being able to share this moment with her and shoot with her! Krystal is an incredibly kind, brilliant, loving, and beautiful human who is also a frontline worker! Pic by @gerikramerphotography #latina #startrek #startrekday #startrektos #redshirt #sisterfromanothermister https://www.instagram.com/p/CE5bmRZH8nc/?igshid=17j9jzppueiqp

#latina #startrek #startrekday #startrektos #redshirt #sisterfromanothermister

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paigerambles · 3 years

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A happy belated birthday to my darling Gemma <3

(( four little drabbles based on some of our pairings )) @gemmamakeslists

A Dangerous Affair with Faith and Antonin

The door had closed much too loudly behind him. It mirrored the finality of this moment. Antonin had never pretended and that perhaps was what had made him so uniquely cruel. When he’d chosen her, when he’d decided to ‘see what happened’, he’d been open to feel whatever he might have. After all, the more open you were, the easier you were trusted. The more receptive you were to the little things she did, the more you noticed and became intrigued by. It was a dangerous tightrope he walked but Antonin hadn’t lost sleep about it. After all, he would always finish the job.

He was supposed to finish the job.

His hands never shook, not ever but tonight they betrayed him. If she had suspected, if she had been worried, it didn’t show. Instead, concern flashed across that almost unreadable face. That alone was a punch to the gut. Of course he didn’t exactly look his best. He was about to make the single most impactful decision of his life - his hair had not taken it well. Neither had the dark circles under his eyes, the palpable anxiety he felt causing a trickle of sweat to make its way down his neck.

If he made it quick, it could be a mercy. She was a target now and even if he let her go... It would be a life of looking over her shoulder. Faith may have been tougher than most but she wouldn’t survive, not now. Loneliness was easier to accept, to live with, when you hadn’t tasted the alternative. He knew that all too well now. This was just supposed to be another job. Another name scratched off a list. Another day.

What did it matter if he loved her? What did it matter that his father would kill him himself if he didn’t see this through? What did anything matter when she was looking at him like that, eyes hopeful and trusting and all too familiar with disappointment and pain?

The loaded gun felt impossibly heavy in his hands as he watched the colour slowly drain from her face as that trust started to falter. Surely not...? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t-

“Antonin-,” but he’d made his decision long before she breathed his name. In truth, he had made his decision long before even now. He had been interested every time she spoke, dizzied by her rare laugh and moved by the way she saw the world and all its dark, terrible corners. She’d danced with the devil and never known, until now. He took a step towards her and to her credit, to her grit, she barely flinched and did not move.

The cold touch of the metal ran up his spine as he put the gun away. Of course he put the gun away.

“We have to leave. Tonight. There’s no time to explain-,” his mind was moving faster now, catching up, calming down. This he could do. This he could manage without shaking. “They want you dead. My father, his organization. I won’t let that happen to you, do you understand?” Usually she would argue, questions, rage until she was blue or purple or red in the face. There was an ache in his chest as he saw the tears in her eyes, too stubborn to fall. Convincing her that his feelings were real would take time and maybe she’d never believe him which she was well within her right not to but that didn’t matter now. Now his only thought, his only goal, was to keep her safe.

Antonin stopped moving for long enough to look her in those burning blue eyes. It had to boil down to one thing now and it wasn’t love, it wasn’t longing or truth. It was this: “Do you trust me?”

And perhaps against her every better judgement, in that moment she nodded, gripping tightly onto his outstretched hand.

“Yes.”

A Reckless Serenade with Krystal and Luke

The pub was probably the dullest, stickiest, faintly rancid place in town but it let his band play and paid them in free drinks. So, really, who’s to complain? Luke was usually nervous before a show, anxious right up until he was bouncing around the stage and even then. Tonight he was especially nervous. Tonight, he’d asked the prettiest, coolest, sassiest girl from the record store to come to his show. He’d made some big song and dance about putting his homemade poster up in the store to which she’d said ‘nah, pal’. Luke had just been pleased as punch to chat with her anyway.

The likelihood of her actually showing up tonight... He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous. Would she? Wouldn’t she? He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was about Krystal Mercury but he thought an awful lot about holding her hand. That was enough to inspire screeds and screeds of poppy poetry, some of it beautiful even. When it came to writing a song, he could say it all. When it came to talking to her? Forget about it.

Now, all he had to do was convince himself that he wouldn’t be perfectly miserable if he didn’t see her tonight. It was a decent crowd, anyway. At least fifteen people. If you counted the bartender (which he always did). It was all peachy.

Except, he really wanted her to be in the crowd.

“Come on, mate.” Luke blinked at his band-mate, as if suddenly remembering the fact that the whole point of tonight was to play a show. Right, here we go. No matter what happ---

For half a beat, he held his breath entirely. After all, it wasn’t terribly well lit in here and he might have been mistaken. Although, wasn’t she quite unmistakable?

Krystal’s hair was down, hanging by the shoulders of her denim jacket with what he thought might have been sewn on patches for a splash of colour. She was here. When he met her eye, he reckoned he caught a smile and time might have slowed down. He’d always been hopeless and maybe even romantic but he never thought he’d get himself quite this tongue tied over someone. Not a very handy thing when you were the lead singer, mind.

Then just like that reality return and he opened his mouth at last, the sound of rip roaring guitar and faster-than-your-racing-heart drum beats filled the air, and his head. Luke felt giddy, elated and it wasn’t just from the adrenaline of playing a show. It wasn’t that at all.

“And truth be told, I’d be terribly content to hold your hand.”

Funny how much effort it took to make it seem like you were very cool and casual around someone you definitely didn’t feel cool or casual around. Luke gave it his best once he’d exited the stage.

“Alright, Songbird.”

“Well, you weren’t shite, then.”

Luke let out a laugh, still clad in his leather jacket despite the stage lights.

“Do you want to see backstage?” Luke took the world’s longest breath, holding out his hand.

“Backstage,” he shot her a grin at that comment. Fair enough, this was hardly the Grammy’s. Still, she took his hand.

A Brighter Day with Olivia and Ian

Ian Morrison had just been some guy on vacation when he noticed her. A totally normal, very stylish and slightly drunk guy on vacation. Olivia Winters had just been some girl working her part-time job and going to classes. Sometimes she remembered to text back her annoying BFF Samson too. She was perfectly normal, happy and a little bit no-nonsense especially when it come to guys on vacation who thought they were stylish.

It was perfect.

The first time Ian noticed her, she was sitting outside of a café with a stack of books and a black coffee. Her bangs threatened to cover her eyes, her brow was furrowed in concentration and she was about to lose one of her papers to a summer’s breeze. Now, being a perfectly normal, perfectly human guy, Ian had to run like a fool to catch it for her. Did he expect to be showered in thanks? No but a compliment on his Hawaiian shirt would have been nice.

Olivia didn’t even give him that.

The next time Ian sees her, she’s wearing dungarees and eating an overly shiny apple. He smells strongly of daytime tequila (it was vacation, after all) and was just on the way to meet his brother for a late lunch. Ian doesn’t have a good excuse this time but damn it all, he goes for it anyway.

“You know, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

“And what exactly would keep you away?”

“Pineapples. They freak me out.”

“There are at least seven pineapples on your shirt right now.”

“It’s a power play, I’m letting them know who’s boss so they don’t smell my fear. I’m playing the long game here. I’m Ian, BTW.”

“Right... Olivia, BTW.” She wasn’t nearly as accustomed to using the acronym out loud, hence the sarcasm.

“Well, I’ll see you around O-L-I-V-I-A,” he grinned, shooting her a wink. She rolled her eyes. She smiled. What a weirdo.

The next time again that Ian sees Olivia, the sun is setting over waves and he’s wearing shorter shorts than you might think appropriate for a Sunday evening. He was just giving the people something to smile about. He has his sunglasses on, sitting under one of those absurdly large beach umbrellas, half-asleep, when she sits herself down without even a ‘hello’. How rude. He didn’t mind.

“Here.” Ian opened his eyes lazily, glancing down at the apple in his palm. A smile tugged at his lips. What a weirdo. “For the doctor,” she added, as if that made sense. Ian let out a laugh. She felt funny but not in a bad way.

“Thank you, O,” he said around a crunch, peaking over at her before nudging his sunglasses down his nose. “So, you planning on sticking around or are you actually a mermaid en route to the sea? Either one is cool with me.”

“Not a mermaid. A sea-witch and if you’re not careful, you won’t leave here with all your fingers and toes still attached.” He was only almost certain it was a joke which only made Ian Morrison grin wider.

“Only one way to find out then.” Olivia stayed beside him long after the sun had set, telling herself it was fine because he was just some boy on vacation with a nice smile and a ridiculously warming laugh.

The last time Ian sees Olivia is when he’s on the bus, feeling a keen hangover as he presses his face against the cool glass. Mark Morrison is putting their luggage under the bus, making sure Ian has plenty of water and crackers for the uneasy ride back home.

Ian doesn’t know why or how he opened his eyes at exact, perfect moment to see her but he did. He was so glad he did. An easy smile came to his face and the same happened for her.

Olivia lifted her hand up in a wave, minimum effort and very meaningful all the same.

Ian pressed his palm to the window, dramatic and very meaningful all the same.

Mark made his way onto the bus, backpack in tow and Ian turned to shoot his best bro a grin and by the time he looked back around, Olivia was gone.

A Little Hope with Autumn and Oliver

There was only one bed in the motel and the bath tub was abysmal. Oliver would have taken the chair- it’s not as if he slept much these days anyway but Autumn had insisted. Well, perhaps that was the wrong word. She said he would be no good to her if he was exhausted and hadn’t he been the one who had dragged her into this mess? That he could not argue with.

Still, he couldn’t sleep.

Oliver wasn’t proud of the weakness, of the cruelty he had inflicted by having Autumn conjure up the soul of his beloved. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know just how Angel had died, the fire, the explosion... The way that Autumn had to feel that just so he could have a scrap, a false echo of the woman he had loved more than anything in this wretched world. What’s worse is that he needed her to do it again.

Autumn needed the money. She needed to start over so if that meant sticking with Oliver DiLaurentis a little longer then fine. He shouldn’t have lied to her, shouldn’t have left out the part where there was a price on his head. They’d been on the run for weeks now and he had begged her to leave him to perish more than once. Autumn refused, for whatever reason.

Well, it was the money, wasn’t it? Of course it was. They had a deal. Had his father not taught him how to be a good businessman? He couldn’t back out of a deal. That would be dishonorable. How goddamn backwards his family had been. Were. Oliver turned on his side.

He owed Autumn his life, whatever was left of it. He would see this through. He’d protect her the way that he hadn’t been able to protect... To protect Angel. A haggard breath left his lungs as he looked over to her lying beside him. He felt his chest ache. Then-

Autumn turned, turned too far in fact and now she was leaning against his chest. Oliver stopped breathing. He hadn’t felt a moment of peace since the fire. Since he’d... Just, since. He doubted he’d ever feel a moment of peace again but for the briefest of moments, as he let out his breath, he felt the first real glimmer of hope that he might. It was a foolish, frivolous thought but he had it nonetheless.

Her breathing was even, her sleep yet to be interrupted. For reasons entirely beyond him, he gently touched her shoulder and felt the real weight of exhaustion he had been fighting off until now. He was bone tired, desperate for sleep but too scared to close his eyes. Autumn wasn’t though. From what he had seen of her, from what he had seen her do, he thought she was fearless. A survivor. Beautiful, in her own special way. He fought the thought off but still it whispered in the back of his mind- not like her though, not like Angel.

Oliver closed his eyes, a tear falling down his cheek. He didn’t move his hand from her shoulder and she didn’t move her head from his chest.

For the first time, he slept.

#gemmamakeslists #gemma #for you my dear <3

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leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid · 6 years

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You Gave Me That Last Year

Pairing: Dean x Krystal (OFC? Its a real life person too)

Word Count: 3302

Warnings: plus size female doubts, loving praise, smut, mild spanking, female on top, lots of sweet Dean with a touch of domination.

Summary: It’s Krystal’s birthday and Dean is not above regifting.

Author’s Note: This is a commissioned piece by @dorky-and-i-know-it for her birthday. Happy belated birthday, dear. I hope this gift leaves you feeling happy and loved.

Krystal stopped just a few feet from the door of her office building, the temp on her phone already warning her it would be hot, muggy, and miserable. Summer in Lebanon was not forgiving, not even on her birthday. But despite the heat, Krystal smiled to herself, she knew what would be waiting for her when she got home. Her gorgeous boyfriend Dean had promised he’d get the bunker cleared out for the night and cook her dinner.

In the last few days the place had been a madhouse. Scores of people from Apocalypse world now called the Men of Letters halls home. And it was getting to be too much for the woman who enjoyed a quiet night in with her boyfriend, a beer, and the lasted Marvel releases while curled up in bed.

As promised, when Krystal walked into the parking lot, there was Baby, her black paint shining in the afternoon sun, her emerald eyed driver sitting behind her wheel, radio turned up, singing off key, and drumming the last of Aerosmith’s Walk This Way with his fingertips against the steering wheel.

“I love getting serenaded,” she giggled as she leaned down to peer through the rolled down window. A chunk of red hair fell next to her cheek and she tucked it behind her ear as Dean reached across the bench seat to open her door.

“I’m always willing to sing to the most beautiful woman I know.”

“Oh, I didn’t know Donna was here.”

Dean rolled his eyes and threw his right arm over the back of the seat, his mouth closing the distance between the two of them as Krystal settled in next to him. His plush, pale lips brushed hers in greeting before parting.

“Donna’s got nothing on you, babe. How was work?”

Krystal sighed, as Dean maneuvered around the parking lot and onto the main drag. It had been a long day. “We had a power surge and the stuff I was working on got lost. It’s Friday and I didn’t even want to try calling the IT department. I just wanted to go home and be alone with you.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dean muttered, his words hanging in the air as he stopped at the only light between them and their home. “There was an issue with getting everyone to go out and leave us alone for the weekend.”

Dropping her head back against the warm leather and letting her greyish blue eyes shut for a moment, Krystal slowly rolled her neck until she was looking at the man at the wheel. “What kind of issue? Could you even just get us tonight?”

Dean took his eyes off the road briefly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I did the best I could. Even offered to get everyone a room at the hotel here in town but no one wanted it. Except Bobby, even from another world he still loves those little bottles of shampoo.”

Huffing a laugh, Krystal asked, “so, no romantic quiet weekend with movies and sex in the dungeon?”

“Oh, sex in the dungeon is still happening. I worked too hard getting all the blood off the walls for it to go to waste.” Krystal landed a light punch on Dean’s shoulder and he chuckled as they turned onto the road that would take them to the entrance of the garage.

“Okay, this is only going to be a short stop. Shower, change, pack up a bag for the weekend because I got us a room at The Honeybee and Sunflower Suites.”

There was an extra spring in Dean’s step as he ran around the car to hold open the door for his lady.

“Don’t forget to pack something sexy. Like that black lacy thing I got you for Valentine’s day.” Dean pulled his bottom lip between his teeth with a grin.

Krystal walked ahead of Dean, shaking her head. “I look awful in that thing. I’m too fat for stuff like that.”

Without missing a beat, Dean reached out, grabbing her forearm and stopping her for walking inside the main part of the bunker. “Hey, that’s not, you look so sexy in that stuff.” He pulled her closer until her large breasts pressed into his firm chest. His hands smoothed up her arms and into her long red locks. “You always look amazing to me. And if I could, I’d have you naked all the time. There isn’t an inch of you I don’t enjoy looking at. Every curve, the weight of your tits in my hands.” To emphasize his point, Dean reached down, cupping both of her breasts, squeezing them through the cotton of her blouse. “And god, you have an ass like a goddess.” He reached around, nuzzling his scruffy face into the side of her neck as he groped handfuls of her backside. “There are times where I can’t get enough of you.” He nipped at her flesh, making goosebumps rise to the surface.

With a sigh, Krystal melted into Dean’s embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck as he mouthed at hers.

“You win, I’ll bring it along.”

“Yes,” Dean shouted enthusiastically as he pulled away, lacing his fingers with hers and yanking her towards the doorway. “Alright, let’s get what we need so I can give you your birthday presents.”

“If it’s your dick, you got me that last year.”

Before reaching the hotel, Dean stopped at the diner they’d met in, the blue vinyl booths still cracked from wear as they took their respected sides of the table. There was no worry there, no one to judge the relationship the two of them had because despite the size difference, the town knew how crazy in love they were with each other.

After a simple dinner and a quick drive up the road, Dean produced a black and yellow key card from his wallet.

“For the next couple days, this is our home sweet home.”

It was cheesy but Krystal smiled nonetheless, walking into the room and taking in the tacky decor. It was like every motel Dean had ever sent her photos of. Cliche fake sunflowers in cheap white plastic vases sat on the table by the window and on each bedside and a fuzzy and dust ridden stuffed honeybee perched on the bathroom counter on top of pale yellow towels.

“Well, this is, the tackiest room I’ve ever seen and I love it. It's so quiet!”

Dean chuckled, dropping the two bags he held aloft in each arm to the floor.

“It’s ugly but that don’t matter,” Dean growled as he crossed the room in two long strides, “cause I got a beautiful woman right here to look at all night long.” His arms wrapped around her body, pulling her close and crashing his mouth to hers.

A soft moan fell from her lips, letting them part to accept the wet muscle of his tongue in, mewling as he licked against hers and flicking the tip of his tongue over her upper lip.

“I want you,” he growled, “I want you so bad.” His hands landed on the globes of her ass, kneading them as he walked the two of them backwards towards the bed.

When his knees hit the edge of the black comforter, he sank down, pulling Krystal until she was perched in his lap.

“Dean,” she whined, always so afraid she’d hurt him with her weight.

“No, not tonight. Forget about all that crap in your head. Tonight it’s just us and watching this gorgeous creature ride me.” Dean mapped out the curves of Krystal’s body as he spoke, his tongue peaking out, pink and wet, coating his bottom lip as his eyes traveled down to the swelled and exposed cleavable before him.

Krystal worried her lip between her teeth, watching as Dean got his fill of her body.

“It’s your birthday, darlin’ and tonight you are all mine. Now stand up, grab your bag and go put on that little number. I’ll be waiting here for you.”

Dean leaned back on his hands and Krystal climbed gingerly out of his lap, a shiver running down her spine at his commanding tone. She snagged her bag up off of the floor and locked herself in the bathroom.

The lingerie set was shoved into the bottom and Krystal stripped down quickly, always avoiding the mirror beside her. Once her clothes were meer heaps on the floor, she reached for a hand towel, running it under warm water and wiping her body down. The creases of her thighs, under her belly, her boobs getting a good swipe too. The fear that Dean might think she was some smelly fat chick always lingered when it came to them having sex even after three years together.

Once she was satisfied, Krystal slipped into the sheer, black babydoll set, the satin tie fitting snugly under her boobs that were hardly covered by sparse floral lace. The panties that had come with it was a cheap looking g-string that was thrown away the day after Krystal opened her gift. She had replaced them with black boyshorts, the floral lace just as sparse and clearly different but she didn’t care. They were comfortable and they made her feel sexy. Plus Dean seemed to like the added feature of the rounded bits of her ass that fell just below the hem.

She licked her lips, grabbed the handle to the bathroom door and tried her best to saunter out of the bathroom with more confidence than she really had. But as soon as she entered the bedroom, she halted in her tracks. There sprawled against the pillows, his back supported by the headboard was Dean, his clothes long gone and his cock already twitching to life in interest as he took his fill of her body.

“Damn,” he breathed, his cock fattening against his belly and he crooked a finger in her direction. “Come’ere.”

A shiver ran down Krystal’s spine and on naked toes she navigated her way to the bed, her knees sinking into the end of the unmade bed.

“Crawl up here, darlin’ and have a seat. I wanna feel you.”

A light blush crept across her cheeks as she planted her palms against the bright yellow sheets, crawling towards him.

Dean reached for his length, giving it a few strokes as he watched, a groan falling from his lips as Krystal threw a leg over either side of his thighs. His hands were on her in an instant, tracing her thick thighs and traveling to her waist, then higher.

“You look so fucking sexy. I can’t wait to throw this on the floor.” Dean’s fingers tugged lightly on the tie between her breasts, releasing it enough to let each side open up but still remain in place, obscuring his view of her gorgeous tits. “Fuck.’

A soft smile pulled at the corners of her pink lips at the effect she had on him. She shook her shoulders back and forth, urging the soft fabric from her upper body and Dean let out another groan as she revealed herself to him. His hands mapping out her upper body until he held each breast in his hands, thumbing the dusty pink nipples until they hardened into stiff peaks .

“Damn if you don’t get more beautiful every time I see you. Scoot up a little more, baby. I gotta have a taste of your tits.”

She shimmed her way forward, her covered pussy pressing into the thick vein on the underside of Dean’s shaft, her clit twitching at the small bit of friction and making her hips tilt back and forth to feel the soft roll of desire through her core.

Dean pushed her tits together, bringing his mouth closer, and planting kisses over the swelled globes, mouthing at them until he pulled a taut bud into his mouth. His tongue swirled over her nipple, pleasure jolting through her body, her pussy clenching around nothing and spurring on her need to grind against him.

Pulling away, Dean gazed up at her. “That feel good, sweetheart? Keep grinding that beautiful pussy against my cock. Make yourself cum on my dick. Get nice and wet for me.” He buried his face once again and Krystal mewled above him.

Her hips rocked back and forth, clit pulsing as she rubbed against him, slowly dragging her pussy up his length and pausing as a wave of pleasure rippled through her. Dean’s mouth ravaged her chest, lips sucking, teeth tugging at her puffy nipples, a tightening knot of desire in her belly growing until she cried out her release.

Dean smiled against her breasts, he could feel how wet her panties were and his cock was already full, excited to be snug inside her center. He let go of her tits, watching them fall back into place as he moved his hands onto her arms, the ones still planted on his sides as she panted for breath.

“You make the hottest sounds when you cum.” He trailed his hands up to her shoulders and into her hair, pulling her down into a searing kiss, tongue licking into her mouth and sucking on her bottom lip before letting go. “Take your panties off,” he commanded, smacking his right hand against the soft flesh of her ass.

Krystal yelped at the sting and climbed off him, his thighs draped in her lace top and she tugged the fabric off, the ends skirting over Dean’s cock, making it jerk and leak over the fabric as she discarded it onto the floor. She took a breath, Dean stroking his cock as he took his fill of her nearly naked form, and slid her thumbs into the sides of her panties. Slowly she pulled them down her legs, watching it roll itself up as they fell to her ankles.

Dean licked at his lips, nodding his head in a slight tilt. “Sit on my cock. I wanna watch your tits bounce while you get yourself off.”

Another blush creeped across Krystal’s cheeks and she bit her lower lip before climbing back onto the bed. Once again she straddled him, rubbing her pussy against his thick length before raising a leg and reaching down to lift his member towards her opening. Notching his cock head against her cunt, she slowly sank down, moving her hand to his chest and bringing her leg back down to the mattress. She didn’t stop until Dean was fully seated inside her, his girth stretching her, and a low groan left her pouty lips.

“Fuck me, you look awesome up there.”

She tried not to giggle at his phrasing but one bubbled up anyway. “I think fucking you is kind of the point.” To drive it home, Krystal ground her pussy against him, her snug, wet walls clenching around him.

“Yeah it fucking is. Get riding, birthday girl.” Dean slapped his hand against her ass before grabbing two handfuls, squeezing as she lifted her self up slowly. “Damn.”

Krystal curled her fingers around Dean’s shoulders, holding onto them as she slowly moved, the friction from Dean’s pubic bone rubbing her clit smoothly; a shiver running down her spine.

She set a steady rhythm, bouncing leisurely, sweat dotting her flesh as her tits jiggled in Dean’s face, making her laugh as he tried to catch them in his mouth. “Knock it off. You’re distracting me,” she said as she stilled, Dean buried deep inside her.

“Good,” he chuckled, his lips sucking her right nipple into his mouth, hard, before releasing it. He’d moved his hands up her back, wrapping them around her waist. “Grab the headboard and hold on.”

Knowing what was coming next, she reached forward, creating enough room for Dean to start thrusting up into her core, his thighs slapping against her ass as he fucked himself into her. A moan sounded from her lips as the head of Dean’s cock struck her sweet spot over and over again, her pussy making an obscene sucking sound as he pounded into her.

“You feel fucking amazing. I’m so glad you’re mine.” He keep moving, feeling her clench her velvet walls around him, her thighs shaking as she practically knelt above him. “On your back, sweetheart.”

His words floated through her lust filled brain and she rose off Dean completely, his cock slapping his belly wetly as she rolled onto her back, her thighs spreading and giving him room to settle between them.

He grabbed both of her legs, holding them open wide as his cock brushed through her thick folds before sinking into her heat. He kept her thighs open and started thrusting, hammering into her, watching himself disappear inside her over and over as he chased his climax as well as trying to bring hers on.

“Dean,” she whimpered, the need for more churning low in her belly.

He knew what she wanted and he let her legs go, feeling them rest heavily against his thighs and calves as he fell over her. Balancing himself on his arms, Dean captured her mouth in a kiss, pounding in deep and rolling his hips, rubbing her clit back and forth as he slid in small moves, in and out of her sodden pussy before dropping his head into the crook of her neck.

A burning knot grew between her thighs and Krystal couldn’t resist reaching to claw at Dean’s freckled shoulders, feeling sweat cover her fingertips as she held on tight. Dean started pulling back and slamming back in three times before rutting against her again; her own hips gyrating against him. His cock throbbing inside her as he started to fill her with cum.

That was all it took and Krystal was joining along with Dean in his chorus of groans in her neck, her own long, drawn out moan melding with him and echoing around the hotel room.

When they both started coming back down, Dean pulled out and fell beside her in bed, both of them covered in sweat. Cum slowly started leaking from her hole and Krystal cringed at the feeling.

“I have to get up but I don’t want to. I’m too hot.”

Dean looked over at her and nodded. “Yeah, you are hot.”

Scoffing, Krystal sat up and groaned, more of Dean’s release dribbled out, coating her thighs as she stood up. “Whatever, Winchester. I’m gonna go wash your cum off me and shower. Join me?” Her confidence was boosted much higher than when they had gotten to the hotel, the endorphins of her orgasm floated through her system making her forget her insecurities.

Dean practically jumped out of bed and followed close behind into the bathroom. His hands reaching out to grope every curve he could get his hands on.

“Man, I feel like it's my birthday,” he muttered at she bent slightly to turn on the shower.

“Too bad it's not. When we get out you can give me my presents.” Krystal stepped in under the warm spray as Dean smirked and joined her.

“Oh, baby, I already did.” He wink as she turned and looked up at him.

“I thought I said you got me your dick last year. I was hoping it would be something else,” she said in a faked whine.

With a shit eating grin Dean replied, “no one said I wasn’t predictable. But I do have a thing or two in my bag you might be interested in.” Stepping closer, Dean drew her into his chest, his arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around his neck. He looked into her blue grey eyes, a smile shining in his olive orbs. “Like matching rings.” Her gaze widened and he dropped his head down beside hers, his lips pressed against her ear. “Marry me?”

Thank you so much for reading and if you like what you’ve read, maybe buy me a whiskey or two.

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