(I meant to keep it short but my muse wanted to involve other characters! Hope you don't mind and that you like!)

Abby looks down and smiles at the sight of her boy's head bowed and on his kInees for her. Abby couldn't believe that this boy has willingly agreed to be her submissive.

Around them are their friends - families - watching them and smiling. Mac standing proud of the young man willing to submit. He looks down at his boys, Danny and Don. He remembers the day very clearly when he met Abby and was amused by the Gothic girl with a collar around her neck. At first he thought Abby was a sub but as he later found out, Abby was a switch and grins when he remembers her and her soon-to-be collared boy having strange conversations with strange tech words and whatever he couldn't understand. He grins; he could understand why his good friend has fallen for Abby.

Next to him was Stella and her partner. Stella looks sadly at the kneeling boy. She remembers the one night they had together. She doesn't regret having that one night but knows that she couldn't be his mistress because she wasn't interested in the lifestyle like the rest of her work colleagues but she respects the choices they have made and is pleased to be a part of this special collaring.

To the other side of the room, Gibbs looks at Abby, proud of her. She is like a daughter to him and when he met Adam, he thought that Adam couldn't handle Abby and her weird ways. But as Gibbs eventually got to know Adam, he found that Adam was like Abby in many ways and was surprised when one day Adam came to him to ask for his permission to be Abby's sub. At first Gibbs didn't understand why but when Adam explained that Abby respected him and considered him as her father, Gibbs smiled and gave his permission and along with it, his blessing.

Gibbs feels a hand around his ankle and he looks down to see Tony looking up and smiling. Tony is not yet collared but Gibbs plans to collar him as soon as possible. Tony grins, as he sees the intense look in his Dom's eyes and understands what he is thinking about. Tony is excited and looking forward to the day when he is collared.

Tim looks at Abby, sadly. Ever since they met, he was in love with her and they even had a strange relationship where they took turns at topping each other but after a while, Tim realized that Abby was primarily a Domme and Tim couldn't give his full submission so they broke up but they stayed good friends. He looks at Adam and thinks he is very lucky to be collared by Abby and that he would kill Adam if he dared to hurt Abby. He has warned Adam and Adam promised to do his aloustue best to not hurt Abby.

And now we return to Abby and her soon-to-be sub, Adam. Abby smiles and bends her knees down so that she is at the same height as Adam and raises his head.

"Loving you is easy cos you're beautiful," Abby speaks softly and Adam blushes as Abby kisses his lips softly before raising up. She turns to Gibbs and puts a hand out and Gibbs takes the box off the table behind them and opens it. He takes the most beautiful collar; it is a black collar with red stubs and a small tag and written on it is I belong to Mistress Abby and hands it over to Abby who smiles at him and Gibbs return the smile.

Abby turns to her boy and she is shaking inside; her heart is beating quickly but she hides it as she instructs Adam to bow and she carefully puts the collar around the neck. She takes the padlock and a key from Gibbs and locks the collar with the padlock. She tells Adam to loom up and he gasps, shocked to see Abby holding a silver chain and she smiles as she puts the key through the chain and puts it over her head.

"I hold this key close to my heart, always and I promise to take care of you," Abby says, and there are tears streaking down adam's cheeks as he speaks, his voice filled with emotions: "And I hold this collar to show my full submission to you, Mistress Abby."

Abby is tearful as she pulls Adam to his feet and they wrap their arms around each other and kiss with passion and hunger.

By one by one, everyone leaves the room in silence, leaving them alone.




Edited at 2010-08-12 02:39 am (UTC)

If someone writes this prompt, please let me know!

xx

He looked like a frat boy, not like he could take a real punch.

He could and then some.

It started with a comment about Sasquatch.

It ended in the alley behind the bar, Sam lookin' a lot less tall when he was on his knees.

Hand still big as paws, though.

After, he put his hat on Sam. A little custom he had developed, seeing how his lovers looked in it.

Sam took it off, put it back on Raylan's head.

"Don't need to act the cowboy," he said by way of explaining, "And borrowing your hat is not what I meant by reciprocation."

She was exactly his type. Tall, long hair, tiny waist in the middle of a perfect figure - what he would give to have one hand on that ass and the other firmly squeezing, er, he digress - and an attitude that could break brick walls.

Unfortunately, she wasn't his type at all.

Diana Prince had 100% not interest in Playboy Tony Starks and when he firmly reminded her he saved the world at least twice a weak, she just bared her teeth mockingly and said "You say that like you're special."

He offered her a beer, she asked for a soda; he paid for a luxury dinner and she turned him down to have McDonald's with some - also hot. Very, very hot - Blonde barely legal and her boyfriend.

The woman had priorities and Tony just doesn't have time to waste on that sort of minute shit.

But, every time she smiles, Tony has to admit he wants to be the reason why and if all it takes is to sit in a cheap public theater and watch dreary chick-flicks to do it, is that so hard?

Tony's not ready to admit it's not the mediocrity that scares him.

Fangtasia was a land of fantasy for the weak willed human and the hungry vampire. Some people just didn't belong. Sookie Stackhouse, in as so far as she upheld clean southern living and a love of life, did not belong.

Usually, Eric picked out the unwanted long before they made their way to his chair, but somehow this human - admittedly lovely, dark curls tumbling to her waist, porcelain skin, regal bearing, fierce eyes; he would feed from her - slipped by without his notice until she stepped onto the dais and touched him.

Eric slapped her away and met a force harder than stone. The girl released him and stepped back into the protective arms of her companion. A brother, perhaps? Strong features under a mop - Oh, god, his hair. That hadn't been a good looking in the middle ages. Eric might kill him just for inflicting it upon the masses. Some evils were inexcusable. - but his eyes were a stirring gold.

Magic.

Eric growled and Pam stepped away, cutting off their escape.

"Stop it, Merlin!" The young woman pushed his arms away and stepped on the dais again. Brave, at least. Foolish, but brave. Eric didn't waste time on the foolish.

But, she didn't defer to him or ask his forgiveness when she spoke. Instead, she demanded his attention with her bearing and met his eyes without fear, "Listen to me," she spoke firmly, full of a natural elegance, "Mac Dara is coming. You've opened to doors to the unseelie and the Tuathe De are seizing the chance to rule the land."

Eric sneered. Humans and their legends. First vampires, now fairies. Soon he'd be flooded with reports of Santa Claus.

"Think of Ireland," She snapped, stepping closer, face him angrily and not the least bit afraid. "You're old enough to remember, I'm told. The last days of Deirdre? The Seelie Court is still sealed. The locked themselves away from mortals centuries ago, but Mac Dara... Mac Dara wants to rule to world, whether it be under fire or ice."

"Morgana," He companion shook his head, eying the silent club nervously. Someone had a brain at least, "He's not listening. We have to try someone else."

"No!" She cut him off, "Eric Northman is the one, Merlin. I saw it."

Merlin? Morgana? Fae? Oh bravo, "Is this what they call LARPing?" Eric drawled loosely, hooding his eyes and crossing his arms.

Merlin - Eric expected him to wear more glitter, honestly - blinked and cocked his head in confusion.

"You arrogant small-minded beast, would you listen to me." The lights flashes and tables flew as she boomed her disastifaction, eye glowing a fierce burnished gold.

Just like the boy's.

Eric tensed immediately.

"We are not children, this is not a game, and if you do not help us, the Dark Prince will reign destruction down on your world leaving nothing behind but imps and banshees to herald the dead. There is no balance to his blackness, now. Do you understand?"

Eric watched her carefully, not in the least appreciating the floor show she'd made of dire information, but it was Pam who answered, "Yes, yes, all very dramatic. Is there a reason you couldn't call?"

Edited at 2010-08-18 07:32 pm (UTC)

Castiel is used to cosmic battles and existential threats. He's not sure what to make of the Rift. He only knows that he's been assigned there for some reason that must have something to do with the heavenly host and its continued survival. So he walks slowly around the central machine that holds it in place, appraising and marveling at its utility.

"So," Ianto says in the background, trying to look cheerful. "You've been sent in by UNIT, then?"

Castiel has no idea what he's talking about. "Yes."

"Can I get you something? A cup of tea?"

"I'm fine." He holds up a hand in an abridged, clunky gesture.

Ianto waits a moment, looks at him, and then presses forward again. "Come on. The drive from London can't have been pleasant in this rain. I'm surprised you're not soaked, to tell you the truth. I was out for five minutes earlier and had to borrow Jack's towel to dry my hair. You must at least be cold."

"I'm--" Castiel stops, peers at him. The round face is warm with invitation. He remembers, dimly, how the human race can want so badly to be needed. "Fine. Tea sounds nice."

"You're American," Ianto remarks a minute later, as he brings out two steaming cups. "I'd think Jack would've mentioned you. You two have met, I'm sure."

Castiel squints at him over the wafting, moving air. "We... haven't."

"Ah, well, that explains it. He would have told me about you."

"You're very talkative," Castiel observes. Actually, he's complaining, not just observing, but his tone is even enough that no one could tell.

"Odd, isn't it?" Ianto gives a nod. "I never used to be quite so... extroverted. Jack's fault again. He's taught me to lighten up a tad. I suspect he regrets it."

"You speak a lot about Jack."

At this, Ianto's face goes slightly pink, and some of that old quiet-man persona filters back into his stance. "He's important to me."

Castiel takes a sip of tea. Over the steam he sees Ianto's face, recognizes something familiar in it. And he wonders if his assignment here has anything to do with the Rift at all.

no fic but

I can totally picture this. :D