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pars-ley · 4 years ago

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Our Little Secret

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Summary: A relaxing spa session ends up being much less therapeutic than you imagine but you get much more than you thought possible.

Genre: One shot / smut / masseuse au

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Swearing / Slight dirty talk / Slight exhibitionism / Detailed finger foreplay / Slight female cumplay / Soft dom Tae / Twist ending

Word Count: 3.3k

Notes: This was written for the ‘A Long Hot Summer’ project by @thebtswritersclub. The member I picked was Taehyung and the sense I chose was touch, seeing as his hands are such a kink for many people, I thought I’d feed you all. This is my first collab and I’m both nervous and excited for it. Enjoy!

Thank you to @ditttiii for beta reading, you’re a queen. And thank you to @kooksies-stories-and-tales for the amazing banner, you worked really hard to make sure I was happy, you always have my appreciation boo. Thank you @aroseforyoongi for helping with where to take this story and letting me talk your ear off about it.

As you sit in the waiting room with your legs crossed, casually flicking through the pages of a women’s fashion magazine, you can almost feel the tension rolling off of you in waves.

Your shoulders feel tight enough to snap, desperate for some attention and aching to be kneaded. You slowly roll your head around, stretching the muscles in your neck to try and give yourself some relief.

“Miss L/N? Taehyung is ready for you.” The receptionist announces, smiling much more than you would think possible. Her mouth stretched wide, her teeth like piano keys, straight and ivory white.

You toss the magazine back onto the coffee table and stand, grabbing your bag and following, as you dubbed, ‘Miss Smiley’ along the corridor. She shows you to the room, giving you her fake saccharinely, sweet smile once again and heads back off to the front desk.

You knock lightly and wait.

“Come in.” A deep voice drawls out.

You push open the door and head over to your new masseuse, whose back is to you as he meticulously rolls up a grey towel.

He turns as you approach. “Hello, Miss L/N, very nice to meet you. My name is Taehyung, I'm new here and I’ll be taking over for Cho.” He offers his hand to you. You take it mechanically, his grip firm but not overly so. You open your mouth to respond but can’t find any words forming for you to speak them, they get suffocated in your throat and swallowed down.

No, no, no. This isn’t going to work. I need my sweet, lovely Cho back or any other female masseuse on the premises. I cannot work with someone this...stunning. It was as though the angels themselves had carved every perfect, symmetrical line of his face.

The boxy smile he gives you; enough to melt your insides and turn your legs to jelly. His eyes, so warm and inviting, chocolate pools you can’t help but be captivated by them. You find yourself smiling in return but also becoming acutely aware of how much time is passing without you saying a word..

Come on, get it together.

You swallow your panic and get a grip on yourself. “Please, call me y/n.” Your voice sounds surprisingly even, making you relax a little.

“Sure, if that's what you prefer.” He nods, smiling, his expression a little strained and a little awkward. It’s only then, as you glance down, that you realise you still have his hand gripped in yours like a vice and are shaking it a bit too vigorously. His perfect, large hands are strong, with long slender fingers clasped around yours, encasing them in a caressing cage. Flawless.

“Sorry,” You laugh nervously and release him from your grasp, as you feel a slight warmth creep into your cheeks, staining your skin like pink roses in spring.

He smiles reassuringly. “First time with a male masseuse?”

You exhale with relief and laugh, mainly at yourself. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and make your way to the table? I’ll be back in a few moments.” He exits the room swiftly, leaving you with your racing heart and manic thoughts.

How can I get naked in front of a man like him and be comfortable? With those perfect hands about to glide across my skin like a ship across water. How can I possibly be comfortable with that kind of masochistic torture?

You shake your head, hoping the movement will clear your mind and shake loose your impure thoughts. You hang your jacket on a hook and sit down to remove your shoes.

Stripping your garments off one by one and laying them in a pre-placed basket until you’re left bare as the day you were born, you then climb onto the massage table. You lay on your back, placing the thin sheet over you up to your armpits and try to control your breathing as you look up towards the ceiling.

You focus on the relaxing sounds you can hear playing out of the speakers, akin to wind chimes, a sound that you have always loved. Reminiscent of your childhood, of sweltering summer days sitting on the porch or playing out in the front yard. Your mother bringing out homemade lemonade, to cool you and your sister down, the sour, sweet taste setting flavour fireworks off on your tongue and making your cheeks pucker at the sharpness. The wind chimes a constant in the background.

A quiet knock on the door snaps you out of your calming thoughts and your whole body goes rigid as you call, “Come in.”

You hear him enter and listen as his quiet footsteps grow closer to you, your eyes still trained on the smooth, light ceiling, stretching out above you.

Feeling his warm hands on your shoulders and seeing his upside down face come into view, your body stiffens further under his touch. “Try to relax.” He smiles sweetly at you.

Your chest trembles from the thrum of your pounding heart.

I wonder if he can see it too?

“I’m going to start at your feet and work my way up. Just close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths for me.” He speaks slowly, something about his calm, rich voice and the soulful tone makes you feel like you’re melting from the inside out. This is going to be one interesting massage.

As you close your eyes and focus on your breathing, you hear him move down the other end of the table. You hear the sound of oil slick in his hands but still jolt slightly at his touch on your foot.

He starts off slow and gentle, the pressure perfect, just enough to soothe your aching muscles which today were extra tender. The feel of his soft hands gently caressing you sends shivers through you, a ripple of goose pimples cascades across your skin.

The feel of his long fingers, twining around your ankles has your core throbbing. Imagining...him holding me by them while he pushes himself deeper...No, I need to stop that.

You squeeze your thighs together slightly, just to provide you some relief to the pulsating that is increasing between your legs.

“Relax.” He whispers.

His strong grip, travelling further up your leg and gliding firmly along your thigh, your bare crotch feels exposed even with the cover, as your arousal blossoms with each punishing movement like the flowering buds at the start of springtime. When he almost reaches your centre, his fingers mere millimetres from grazing your folds, you have to bite your lip to hold in a whimper.

God, I can’t take much more of this.

The massage continues on, tortuously slow, and time seems to stand still.

The worst part is, when he moves onto your top half, feeling his soft fingertips graze along the swell of your breasts. Your heart seems to stop in your chest before it starts violently knocking against your ribs, the throbbing in your core vibrating to the same swift rhythm.

You meet his eyes at that point but wish you hadn’t, when he gives you an upside down smile that only pulls up one side of his mouth in the sexiest way, even from this angle.

You are relieved when you can finally turn onto your stomach, not being able to see his face definitely helped. The torture begins again as he starts at your feet and works his way up your body with his gruelling pace.

Your hands grip the towel by your head for so long your fingers ache, transforming into stiff claws, but the ache in your core is incomparable and desperate to be sated with his touch.

His fingers are like magic, his touch so soft and caring, that even through your anxiety you can feel your muscles are lighter and less painful than before.

When his fingers smooth along the skin on the back of your thighs and his fingertips skim your folds. You freeze.

That had to be an accident, surely he didn’t mean to go that close.

You wait with baited breath as his hands climb slowly back up your legs, but what you're expecting, doesn’t happen. You hate to admit the tinge of disappointment you feel as your body relaxes slightly and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

The frustration you feel is immense, you’ve never been this turned on by someone before, and you have to refrain from grinding your painful crotch against the massage table.

His thumb slides silkily up the inside of your leg and a shiver runs up your spine as his fingers lightly slither their way along your moist entrance. Your eyes trained at the tiles on the floor, as arousal makes you quiver under his touch.

He must be doing that on purpose!

You discreetly open your legs wider, giving him access, if that was what he was searching for.

His oiled hands find their way under the sheet and caress your buttocks, softly kneading your cheeks, before finding their way back down to your throbbing crotch.

He skates a finger over your entryway and you have to bite your lip to hold the moan you feel rising.

You want to angle your bottom up in the air so he can see and touch every part of you but you resist and stay flat and unmoving as a slab of concrete.

Your heart pounds violently in your chest, from fear and thrill both. This is so wrong, this shouldn’t be happening and you definitely shouldn’t be encouraging it but it feels so good, that you can’t stop yourself.

He slides a finger in between your swollen folds until he finds your clit, where he delicately traces circles with his oiled fingertips.

You let out a moan and his mouth is instantly by your ear, breath tickling your skin. “You’re going to need to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You bite your lip and nod.

“Good, now turn over.” He whispers.

You do as he says, feeling somewhat bashful that he can now see your face.

He flips the sheet off, exposing you completely, a fresh shudder flows through you, and as he does he pulls his full bottom lip in between his set of perfect teeth.

“You are beautiful.” He says, as his eyes roam over your body and most intimate areas. A harsh blush spreads from your chest to your cheeks and the urge to cover yourself is almost overwhelming but he doesn’t give you the chance. His hands are on you, spreading your legs open and pushing your knees down onto the bed. You are wide open, receiving him like he’s returning home from a long trip, welcome mat positioned and ready. So eager and trusting to this stranger you hardly know.

He slips a finger inside you making you gasp, and you clutch your hand over your mouth to stop any more noise from escaping.

“You’re so wet. I could see it pooling out of you. Such a dirty girl.” He leans down to whisper.

His thumb finds your swollen bud, while he slides a second finger in your heated core. Pleasure shoots through you like a bullet, making your body jolt in response. You throw your arm over your face and bite the skin to stop a sinful moan from echoing through the room.

“You were praying I'd touch you, weren’t you?”

You nod eagerly, unable to open your mouth for fear of screaming his name. You can feel the build up already there, your insides coiled and ready to spring. He hooks his fingers inside of you, and slowly beckons repeatedly over the sensitive spot that makes your toes curl.

You feel yourself clench around his enchanted digits as your core melts and grows even hotter at his skilful movements.

“That’s it, good girl, cum for me.” He whispers, deep and sinful into your ear, his breath caressing your neck, sending delicious shivers down your body. His command is all you need to heighten the intense, throbbing build up of your orgasm and is enough to cause your body to unravel wildly around him.

White light consumes your vision as your legs jolt and your back arches off the table, sucking his fingers into you even more as he pushes them inside to help ride out your spasming climax. Pleasure vibrates through you with each contraction, descending over you like waves, capturing you and pulling you under.

He clamps a hand over your mouth to stop the unholy sounds leaving your body but his action makes your eyes roll into your head from the sheer dominance of it.

As your core stills and your body relaxes, he gently withdraws his slick covered fingers. He admires them, glistening under the light.

“I wonder what you taste like,” He says, as he brings them up to his lips; licking and sucking your cum clean.

Heat returns to your stomach fast and hard. You were still heavily panting but your body is already eager for more.

His eyes roll and he lets out a satisfied moan as he tastes you and licks his lips, as if he just devoured a delectable three course meal. When he catches you clenching your thighs together, his mouth stretches into a devilish grin enticing you into the pits of hell through the gates of pleasure.

“Y/n wants more, already?” He raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Ummm.” Is all you can coherently reply with your dry throat and breathless lungs.

“You are a dirty girl.” He moves down to the end of the bed, stalking you like prey. He grabs your ankles and slides you down to him. He then pushes your legs apart, his face serious, and eyes hungry.

He dips his head lower, his mouth heading straight for your soaking folds. Your breathing spikes from the anticipation of how his full lips and boxy mouth will feel against your greedy cunt. He continues lower at a torturous pace, your eyes fixed on him, his beauty, his allure. Everything about him draws you in, entices you, overwhelms you with his charm and for a moment you wonder if this is how Eve felt before she took a bite of the forbidden apple.

Your core throbs violently with need, waiting to rejoice in his oral pleasure but suddenly his head withdraws and he straightens up at the end of the bench.

“Our time is up for today, y/n. But if you’d like we can continue this another day.” He says, back to his professional tone, as if he wasn’t just about to eat your needy slit like his last meal.

Your mouth pops open at him.

How can he do that to me? How can he be such a tease?

You sit up and close your legs. “Are you kidding?”

He smirks at you. “I’m afraid not.” He leans in closer. “If you’re a good girl and be nice, then I’ll book you in and I’ll take extra good care of you.” He winks. “It can be our little secret.”

You bite your lip and sigh. Fine, I’ll play along.

It’s only then you notice his erection creating a tent in his trousers and you moan, sliding forward on the bed so you’re almost crotch to crotch with him.

“Are you sure you can’t fit me in now? Or fit in me, should I say?” You flutter your lashes up at him as you smile coyly.

He bites his lip, clearly torn. “I would actually love nothing more than to fuck your tight, needy pussy here on this table but I do have another client.” He gives you an apologetic smile. “What about when I get off work?” He asks, hopeful, almost as desperate as you feel.

Your mind goes back to him torturing you with the promise for more and as hungry as you were for him, you didn’t want the fantasy of what happened here to be over, just yet.

“I can’t tonight I’m afraid. It’s ok, I can wait for our next appointment. Next week, good for you?”

His expression pained as he squeezes your thighs. “Ok, I deserve that. Next week it is.” He takes your hand and brings the back of your fingers up to his lips, where he places a warm, chaste kiss against them. When his lips part, the area feels cold.

He adjusts his trousers and tunic before nodding at you and leaving the room.

You jump down off of the table, your limbs wobbling underneath you, and your entire body feeling drained.

Slowly, you get dressed in a haze of satisfaction mixed with frustration, a unique combination to you, as you gather your bits and leave the room. On your way back to the reception desk, you feel lighter than air, a slight spring in your step as though you were bouncing along a fluffy cloud.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the scary, smiley receptionist.

How can one person smile this consistently, it’s the work of sociopaths?

Taehyung stands waiting at the desk, beaming his perfect set of teeth your way in the shape of his boxy grin.

“Thank you, for trusting me today.” He says, sweetly holding a hand out for you to shake again and giving you a knowing smile, a twinkle in his eyes keeping your secret safe.

You oblige and can’t help admire his flawless hands again.

God, there wasn’t a blemish in sight. “No, thank you. You definitely have magic hands.” You say without thinking. You are shocked to see his cheeks turn pink and you revel in the sudden change of power between the two of you.

“Thank you, well, I,” He coughs and glances around the waiting room. “I hope to see you again soon, y/n.” He says. You give a nod and another polite smile as he heads quickly off to his therapy room again.

You book your following appointment and tap your card on the payment machine, giving an awkward wave as you push through the heavy doors.

You’re surprised at yourself, the turn of today’s events hadn’t made you feel shameful or embarrassed like perhaps you should.

I just paid to cum, I paid for a sexual service, something I never thought I’d do. Ever.

You shrug it off, after what transpired in that room, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that it was one hundred percent worth it and the promise of more to come was even more thrilling.

After your journey home, a buzz you’ve not felt for a while, clouds your mind and pulls you into constant daydreams. You take a shower to wash the oil and arousal off you, hoping it will help clear the fog in your head.

As you walk into the living room, in nothing but your towel, and take a seat on the sofa preparing to veg out to some crappy T.V., the sound of the door clicking open interrupts your thoughts.

“Hey baby, how was your day?” You ask, rapidly flicking through the channels in search of something mindless.

Fast footsteps close the distance between you, as your husband's frustrated face rounds your view. He slams onto his knees and rips the towel off of your skin, the cooler air hits you making your nipples pucker instantly.

“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me.” He snaps. “I had to work the rest of my shift with an erection and thinking about the taste of your pussy juice.”

You smile seductively at him. “Tae, you have to admit, it was worth it though.” You stroke your fingers through his hair, fresh arousal blooming at the delectable sight of him between your legs for the second time today.

“Hey, that was your fantasy, not mine, you know I’ll fuck you anywhere I can, my new workplace clearly being one of them.” He pushes your legs apart and stares in wonder at your delicate center, as if it holds all life’s answers. “Now, shut up, so I can eat this pussy till you scream.”

A/n: Feedback would be appreciated!

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entertainment · 5 years ago

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Entertainment Spotlight: Nyambi Nyambi, The Good Fight

Nyambi Nyambi currently stars as investigator Jay DiPersia in The Good Fight, which is now in its fourth season on CBS All Access. Most notably known for his rendition of sarcastic café owner Samuel in Mike & Molly, Nyambi’s other tv credits include PBS’ Mercy Street, NBC’s Blindspot, and ABC’s American Koko. In theater, Nyambi has performed both on and off-broadway. He will next be seen in the new Billy Crystal movie Here Today. A comic book aficionado and avid gamer, he lent his voice to the Martian Manhunter in the animated features The Death of Superman and Reign of the Supermen. Nyambi is a first-generation Nigerian-American and serves alongside Danai Gurira on the board for Almasi Collaborative Arts, an organization dedicated to developing emerging African artists. Check it out:

You have worked in both the theatre and on screens. How does your work/preparation differ? Do you prefer one over the other?

I love being on set. When I was a ballplayer, I was known as a “gym rat”. Always on a basketball court working on my game. Nowadays, the set is my gym. I’m on set even on my days off because I love seeing the work all come together. However, my roots are in the theater, so the thrill of being on stage in front of a live audience is almost impossible to beat.

Before every scene or play, I write down a list of reminders from advice I’ve received over the years, words that have inspired me:

Be prepared to let go and play. I do a lot of research in my prep to build enough confidence to let go and play. When preparing for a play, the story is all there for the actors to unpack. What isn’t on the page but needed to tell the story will be imagined to further deepen those discoveries.

When preparing for episodic television, you make strong choices that move you based on what is on the latest version of that script. Still, you have to be flexible with what you’ve imagined because what is on the page the next week can contradict that. I remember when I first got Mike & Molly, I had created this elaborate backstory the same way I would for a play. Every script after that, I’d either discover something new about the character or something that contradicted what I previously imagined for the character. It became a fun game of “who am I this week?” I had to let go and play. So, the immigration episode on The Good Fight was another example of turning my personal imagined backstory on its head. That made the shock of the episode all the more real for me.

Can you take us through a typical day on the set of The Good Fight?

The moment I sit in the passenger seat of the van sent to pick me up is when my day on set begins. It’s my first opportunity to connect with another person, an opportunity to listen. That driver has usually been waiting thirty minutes to an hour before my pick-up time, so the least I could do is say, “thank you for waiting.” Then from there, the conversation goes where it wants to go. I’ve listened to amazing life stories, discovered new music, received invaluable advice on relationships, shared a mutual love for Star Trek: The Next Generation, and learned how to drum from a world-class drummer. All on my way to work.

When I arrive, I make a point to say hello to all I can as a PA ushers me to my dressing room. I write a couple of pages of continuous stream of consciousness on the day’s scenes before I head up to Hair & Make-up. This is where the most fun happens and where I will first see the actors I get to play with that day. The music and joy I experience in HMU, along with the physical transformation, make this an opportunity to let go of the outside world and drop into this blessing that we all get to share in together. We’re making great television. I love the men and women in that room. Once I’m camera ready, I’ll either say, “see you on the ice” or “see you on the court.”

I head back to my dressing room to get into wardrobe while warming up my voice and speech. Once dressed, I get approved by someone from the wardrobe department. Once approved, a PA will let me know when it’s time to go to set for rehearsal. When that time comes, I’ll greet the episode’s director and the other actors, and we’ll go through the scene for lines, then for blocking and then for the crew for marks. We then wait 10-15 minutes for cameras to get into position, which is more time for me to drop in through drawing or music. When they’re ready, we block it for cameras. Once it all looks good, they’ll say, “Last looks,” and hair, Make-up, and Wardrobe will make sure we look right. The actors then get into position before the director yells out, “ACTION!”

As actors, our energy sets the tone, and I think it’s important to be a joy on that set, not a concern.

If you could be any kind of superhero you wished, what would be your ideal superhero combination (title, power, public persona)?

Right now, my ideal superhero combination would be the ability to mutate on a cellular or molecular level. That would enable me to look like any person, but more importantly, to replicate the necessary physiology of an immune body to cure disease. Every-Man. When I’m not Every-Man, I’m a lab technician at Cedars Sinai Hospital.

What advice would you give to young Black actors looking to get their first break in the industry?

That’s why I say I have a thousand mentors. The men and women before you have lived it so they can tell it. Don’t be afraid to ask for their advice. The learning never stops. Keep going, keep growing, and ever-evolving. What’s for you will be yours, and what’s not for you, you celebrate the one it’s for and keep going, trusting your time will come. January 7, 2010, I was negative $300 in my bank account, but I was skipping down the street because a quote a mentor told me over and over again finally became my gospel truth: “This is but a season in my life, it’s not my life. And as the seasons change, so too will this.” The next day was my audition for Mike & Molly.

What’s your favorite comic/comic universe? Why?

My favorite comic depends on the mood I’m in. It can range from J Michael Straczynski’s Supreme Power, Frank Miller’s Batman Year One, or currently, Bitter Root by Chuck Brown, David F. Walker, & Sanford Greene. My favorite comic universe is Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Why, because they’re green. Seriously, the current IDW run is so good. I grew up loving Donatello because he may not have the leadership of a Leonardo, nor the brute strength of Raphael or the Zen charisma of a Michelangelo, but he does have that brain. Plus, a broomstick was the only item in the house that resembled any of their weapons.

What would be your dream role to play? Why?

My dream role would be connected to basketball in some way because it informed such a huge part of my life, playing through college. Otherwise, I’m fascinated by comic book artists such as Denys Cowan, who was one of the founders of Milestone Comics, a phenomenal universe created and owned by African Americans.

Thanks for taking the time, Nyambi! Head on over to Action to check out the rest of our #BlackExcellence365 Spotlights.

#entertainment spotlight #blackexcellence365 #nyambi nyambi #the good fight

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

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Betrothed | Sangyeon

Requested! Royal au! Sangyeon and Y/N have been betrothed ever since they were kids. Too bad that you hate each other’s guts...Or do you?

Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers au, royal au. Tagging: my lovely precious @aniyawoos because she deserves all the love in the world.

----

"Where is it?”

You wish that your murderous glare can drill holes through Sangyeon’s back as you stand, fists clenched at your side, as you watch the prince smoothing over his horse’s mane as if he has no worries in the world.

You try breathing out through your nostrils. Inhale. Exhale. Relax.

“Where is it, Sangyeon?”

“I didn’t touch your diary.”

“You’re the only one who knows I always keep in on my desk. And the only person who has access to our quarters is you,” you cross your arms over your chest, “where is it?”

At that, he whips his head around to throw you a scowl, “I told you, I didn’t touch it. I don’t even know what it looks like.”

“That’s a load of bullcrap. You’ve seen it before.”

"If you haven’t noticed, I don’t really give a rat’s ass about your stuff, nor do I have any interest in reading your personal matters. So no, it’s not me,” he returns back to his horse and you’re tempted to throw a bucket at him when he’s not looking.

What an ass, you think to yourself as you storm away, anger bubbling up inside your stomach.

Ever since you could remember, your parents had been constantly throwing you into Sangyeon’s arms as a reminder that you were to be his wife someday when you guys were of age to rule over the Kingdom of Gustale. It was your duty as a princess from the neighbouring Kingdom and you wouldn’t have minded it as much, if not for Sangyeon’s constant bitch-ass attitude towards you these past few years.

Growing up had been fun, to say the least. Before everything had turned like sour grapes, you and Sangyeon would spend endless days together, sharing stories from your own and going out on small adventures in the city. That was before responsibility had fallen onto both your shoulders, before summer was replaced by additional royalty lessons about managing the people and the economy of the Kingdom itself.

You weren’t exactly sure when things started going downhill in your relationship. But it had been sudden; the way Sangyeon had withdrawn from you as distant as the wind, the way his features -- which you were used to seeing so soft and open -- had hardened considerably whenever he was meant to interact with you. You had never had the nerve to ask him about it, but it was clearly not your fault.

How could it be? It was almost like you had snapped your fingers, and the Sangyeon you knew was gone.

And time is fast in slipping through your fingers, for it’s only a few days until your actual betrothal.

Another sigh escapes your lips as you think of the bleak future ahead. Before, marrying Sangyeon wouldn’t have bothered you that much. Now though, it seemed like you were readying yourself to walk through the gates of hell.

The preparations for the Royal Engagement ceremony take up most of your time, which successfully steer your thoughts away from the big elephant in the room you have yet to address. You busy yourself organizing the tables, going through the list of decorations, and spending as much free time walking along the docks to greet the merchants going back and forth to the sea like it’s their second home.

It’s only when night falls that it becomes a challenge. As a way to encourage your intimacy, the Royal family had decided it suitable for you to spend your nights in Sangyeon’s royal quarters. That wouldn’t normally bother you as much. But with Sangyeon’s coldness, you find yourself most of the time slipping away in the middle of the night to curl up in one of the library’s couches.

So it comes as a surprise when you hear Sangyeon’s alto float through the air. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hairbrush in hand, you pause in mid-action. Have you just heard wrong or--?

“Y/N.”

You blink. Hesitate a few seconds. “What?”

Another pause.

“Have you--” his voice is gruff, coming from the room itself. You wish you can see him, “have you found it?”

“My diary?”

“Yeah.”

You resume brushing your hair, “no.”

Another awkward silence takes hold of the room and you’re not sure whether you should be filling it with short talk.

Your heart jolts in your throat when you hear him once more, “I didn’t steal it, Y/N. If that’s what you think.”

Biting your lip, you nod, before realizing he can’t see you, “I know.”

“Good.”

That’s possibly the nicest he’s ever been since...well, ever since.

You try not to ponder too much over the meaning behind Sangyeon’s gentle demeanour, knowing full well that it only leads to disappointment in the long run. Quickly untangling the knots from your hair before moving towards your bedroom, you’re surprised to find that he’s still sitting up, blinking up at you as though waiting that you’ll join him for the night.

“What?” You can’t help but ask the moment your eyes meet for a second too long.

His eyes slide away in growing embarrassment, “I--Uhm, are you--are you going to bed for the night?”

“Yes?” Confusion falls over your face.

He turns his head away so that you’re graced with his profile, and you can’t help but admire the strong jawline he sports, his plump lips that every girl would die for, “I was just asking, because I know you tend to sleep in the library.”

“Oh,” realization dawns on you, and while the first thing that scratches the back of your tongue is an apology, your mind reels back when you realize that you don’t really owe him anything.

“Well, uhm--” you rack your brains for an answer, “I thought you weren’t comfortable with me sleeping in the same bed as yours.”

His mutter is so soft you would’ve missed if it you hadn’t been paying attention, “I really don’t mind.”

That’s how you find yourself, curled up on your side and away from the said prince of Gustale, hands tucked under your head and trying to take up as little space as you possibly can. You can feel the heat of his body radiating from his side of your bed, practically bathing your entire backside, and though Sangyeon’s bed is big enough to accomodate the two of you, it’s quite modest in comparison to what the King and Queen have in their sleeping quarters. One wrong move in his direction will ultimately cause your limbs to brush, no question.

The first night is definitely awkward. You try not to bring it up, and Sangyeon does an amazing job at hiding what’s really going on in his mind. But as more time passes, you start picking up on things that he’s starting to do differently. For starters, he now engages in quiet conversation with you at meal times, asking whether you’re finding your way around the palace, or grudgingly passing you plates of food without so much as a protest. He’d asked the maids to keep tabs on what made you uncomfortable so that he could change what didn’t sit well with you, unknown to your knowledge, and you’d only found out later when one of the guards had accidentally let it slip that the prince seemed to be ‘putting it a lot more effort nowadays’.

Not that it had helped, since you’re still left empty-handed, with all your thoughts and private feelings probably tucked away in someone else’s desk drawer.

Sangyeon’s sudden bout of generosity and consideration makes your heart warm. You slowly start softening towards the said man, until you hear a pair of court ladies mumbling amongst themselves on the eve of the Royal Engagement.

“The Prince and the Princess have been getting quite cozy lately.”

“No wonder,” the other woman scoffs, causing Y/N to back up against the nearby wall, ears focused on their conversation, “after all, he knows what he’s got to do after their marriage. Maybe he wants to get an early start.”

“You think so? The prince doesn’t strike me as the type to sway women only for his physical needs.”

“Well, she will definitely be the bearer of his children. So he surely must get into her good books.”

At this point, you’re already walking towards his quarters with your heart palpitating in your chest and your legs going numb from the women’s earlier discussion. Is it true? You ask yourself as you absentmindedly open his room door. You close it softly behind you, pressing your back against it while the words slowly digest themselves in your head.

If what the court ladies are saying, then it makes sense why Sangyeon is acting all nice all of a sudden without reason. He merely wants to get the job done as quickly as possible, so that he can be done with you and just throw you into a corner like a used item of clothing he’d outgrew.

That doesn’t seem to sit well in your stomach. You manage to get yourself to the toilet just in time to throw up your entire dinner.

That is where Sangyeon finds you, a few minutes later, heaving and gasping into the toilet bowl while your hands are gripping the edges for dear life. Your face is dotted with perspiration, your face probably flushed from the effort. You know, without looking at your reflection, that you’ve had better days.

“Did you eat something wrong?” he crouches down beside you, a tentative hand fluttering against your backside. It makes you shiver, the warmth of his palm, still not used to his body being so close.

You manage to shake your head, “no,” you mutter, spitting some remaining saliva before you try moving towards the sink. Sangyeon’s arms are around your shoulders in an instant, helping you up to allow you to wash your hands.

You force your gaze down towards your hand, trying to busy yourself with the task at hand so that you won’t have to see the concerned expression he’s plastered over his face just to convince you that his affection is genuine.

“What happened?” he follows you into the bedroom, though it’s clear at this point that you want to burrow underneath the covers and hide forever. You do just that, kicking off your shoes and ignoring the prince’s questions that would’ve once made your heart flutter with affection. Now though, you’re not really sure what you should be feeling towards Sangyeon.

Feeling the bed dip as he sits at your bedside, you can’t help but flinch when his hand pushes a stray strands of hair away from your face, “talk to me, Y/N. Was it something at dinner? Do you feel unwell? Have you caught the stomach flu? It seems to be going around a lot these days. Maybe it’s something you caught when you were out by the docks--”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off and close your eyes, “leave me alone.”

There’s a pause and you force your muscles to relax despite feeling the heat of his gaze zeroing on your face.

“Y/N?” he starts, his alto unsure and confused, “did something happen? Was it something I said?”

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing. I said leave me alone.”

“Y/N come on, don’t start playing those games with me,” his hand reaches for your shoulder, only for you to jerk away from his hold. Hurt flashes across Sangyeon’s face, though he is adept at masking it into indifference, hand hanging in mid-air.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he finally says in the silence that prevails, “we can’t be arguing on the eve of your engagement, for christ’s sake.”

“Is it true?” you blurt out before your mind can stop your heart from rearing in pain, “is it true that you’re only being nice to me because you want to bed me?”

Silence. A pause. Then, “who told you this?”

You shrug but decide not to answer.

Only to be pulled back to face Sangyeon a second later, his arm latched onto your shoulder so that you meet his darkened gaze, coated with restrained anger. His jaw clenches as he repeats, “who told you, Y/N?”

“Is it true?” your eyes lock on his, “is it true then? Do you just want to get into my pants?”

“No, it’s not true. But that’s not going to help my case is it?” he sighs, “listen Y/N. People talk a lot, and there’s bound to always be rumours flying around--”

“So then why?” you cut him off with a scowl, “why are you acting so nice to me when you haven’t been for the past five years?”

You try to search for any indication on his face, but Sangyeon being Sangyeon, he knows exactly how to close himself off, hide behind a mask of nonchalance so that it’s almost impossible to guess what might be making the cogs in his head turn.

“Can I tell you something without you shouting at me?” his murmur is so soft, so unlike his usual cold demeanour, that you nod in agreement, willing to at least hear him out.

“I read your diary.”

Your jaw drops, “You what?! You liar!” You shoot up, slapping him on the shoulder out of pure instinct, “you said you didn’t know where it was!”

“It’s under the bed, I technically found it there so-- ouch woman!” he rubs his now injured shoulder, “can I continue? You promised you wouldn’t get aggressive.”

You keep glaring at him as he continues.

“The things you wrote--I didn’t know that you were hurting so much. I thought that keeping my distance was what you wanted,” he bites the inside of his cheek, “I didn’t want you thinking I was being nice just because we’re meant to be married, especially since I liked you so much. So I tried avoiding you, tried to distance myself so that you’d come to me out of your own free will,” he presses his lips together, eyebrows drawn into a frown, “but then...I read your diary and realized that you--that it was hurting you, more than it was doing you good. You know? And that--that hurt me.”

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you just want to have sex?”

His ears flush a joyous red, so vividly oblivious that your inner mind screams out at how cute he is.

“It has nothing to do with that,” he stammers out. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?” Now you know you’re only pulling his leg, but it’s even more precious to see him ducking his head as the flush reaches the tips of his ears, “I--I never--I never said that! I--well, I mean, you--you’re going to be my wife after all so--obviously, you --you know I kinda...” he scratches the back fo his neck, clearly uncomfortable with all the questions you fire at him, “I kinda already...thought about it.”

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing in his face and revel at how red he becomes as he splutters out, “it’s--it’s not funny.”

“Oh god,” you clamp a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stop yourself, though it’s quite a pathetic attempt, since even Sangyeon’s mouth tugs up into a mirroring grin.

“So are we good now?” He murmurs while his hand unconsciously lands upon yours. It’s soft, warm from his heat. It feels good, it feels...safe.

Your heart skips a beat, “yes Sangyeon. We are. We’re good.”

“Good,” he clears his throat thickly, bites down onto his lower lip as if in thought while his thumb traces soft patterns over your knuckles. It almost feels normal to have him so close, it’s like your body knows that he’s the one you’ll be sharing the rest of your life with.

And then, a memory of his little speech comes floating back before your very eyes.

“Wait,” your eyes snap up to his own confused ones, “you said you liked me?”

He opens his mouth, closes it in realization that he indeed had let it slip.

“Yeah,” he finally mumbles while looking away, ‘Yeah. I like you Y/N. I’ve liked you a lot, for a long time.”

Your entire body springs up in warmth, “why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper out hoarsely.

Turning towards you so that there’s only millimetres between you, your eyes fall onto the soft curve of his collarbones underneath his white shirt, quickly snapping away to stop yourself from getting any wild ideas.

“How could I?” he croaks out, “this whole betrothal thing is planned. I wanted to love someone truly, without titles. I loved you, not because I was betrothed to you. You were just--” his gaze flickers to your lips, “you.”

“Well maybe if you had told me sooner, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“Maybe.”

“Sangyeon,” his dark orbs are swirling with warmth, with a tenderness that causes butterflies to shimmer across your chest when your gazes lock, “I really appreciate what you did. These past few days.”

He chuckles softly, “that’s nothing to thank me for, princess.”

Sitting there with Sangyeon at your side, with his hand resting on yours and your bodies so close you can smell his cologne mixed with the natural scent of wood and summer breeze -- a scent that can only be defined as Sangyeon’s -- it almost feels like you’re part of a family. Your heart swells with emotion at the thought; maybe it’s not so bad after all, to be betrothed to someone like Sangyeon.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s calling your name softly. Looking up into his doe brown orbs gleaming with an open kind of understanding, you find that you can’t possibly look away. The intensity of his gaze is enough to send your heart galloping out of your chest, and when you take a shaky inhale to calm yourself, you realize how close your faces actually are, so close you can see the tiniest freckles spattering across his cheek like galaxies of their own.

You wish to say something. Anything that might save you from staring at him like he’s a piece of art you can’t take your eyes off. But the words get stuck in the back of your throat like sandpaper, a gasp being the only thing that draws out of your mouth when you feel his hand gently cup your chin.

Sangyeon’s thumb brushes against your lower lip and instantly, you feel your skin explode in goosebumps. He moves a little closer and the gasp that dies in the back of your throat catches his attention fully.

It seems like ages go by without as much of an exchange. The world slips away, with only you and Sangyeon gazing into each other’s eyes, both trying to play it safe and yet, there’s definitely something in the air, the electricity that tingles along your spine is definitely not fantasy.

Your hands ball into fists upon impulse. You can barely breathe, hearing your heart slamming against your ribcage.

He leans a little closer. His mouth brushes against yours. Barely.

Your breath hitches, body tensing up slightly.

And then he’s kissing your next breath away, arms lacing around your middle to pull you close while his lips slants over yours in the most sensual caresses that leaves you gasping. You melt right into his arms and he doesn’t hesitate to hold you up, his touch leaving searing paths of hot heat like an imprint that kept you reeling and wanting for more.

It’s only when your back hits the mattress that you realize that you’re lying down with Sangyeon hovering over you, breath staggering and muscles bunching up so that he can kiss you some more, a little deeper each time your mouths collide to ignite sparks behind your lids. Your hands slip around his shoulders to wrap around his torso, traveling up to his hair, his beautiful dark hair that slips through your fingers like silk, and the groan that echoes through his chest causes heat to pool inside your stomach.

With a knee pressing down between your own so that another gasp falls from your lips, the prince’s hands trace a sensual path along your stomach, trailing up to ghost over your chest. You breathe out softly, the smallest of whimpers escaping your mouth. That seems to please him, for his tongue darts out to part your lips with the softest of groans.

It feels so good to have him against you, his heat pooling around yours in a comfortable safe haven that elicits nothing but desire.

When he pulls away for air, you can’t help but whine at the loss of contact while tugging his neck back down in an attempt to steal another kiss from his lips.

Sangyeon lets out a throaty growl, “Y/N, princess, I don’t think that’s such a--” his words die into a moan the moment your mouth starts nibbling along his collarbone. His grip tightens around your waist, and before you know it, you’re backed up against the headboard of the bed right before his lips take yours in once more in a sinful dance of tongues.

“Y/N,” he groans against your mouth, hips unintentionally bucking up against yours when your soft curves roll in delicious desire, taunting him to take it a step further, “baby, stop...”

it is a surprise that he manages to wrench himself away, chest heaving and lips swollen. Your eyes flutter up to his face with a mixture of desire and affection clouding your gaze.

“We can’t,” his soft murmur causes you to shiver. He proceeds to caress your cheekbone, “we’re going to lie down and sleep. And we’re not going to ruin this, not tonight.”

You roll your eyes, though you smile softly “fine.”

He flashes you another tender smile, then moves towards his side of the bed, tugging you along as he goes. With your head resting on his chest and with one arm wrapped securely around your waist, you allow your ear to be comforted by the soft heartbeats echoing through his chest, a soft reminder that this man’s heart beats for yours, and will beat for yours till the end of time.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You smile sleepily, “good night, Sangyeon.”

You’re almost falling into the depths of sleep when you feel his mouth press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

---

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renee-writer · 3 years ago

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Chess Chapter 12 Faith Elena Fraser

AO3

“Bloody hell!” Her face is twisted in concentration, her eyes screwed shut, as the pain crushes her. It is hour twelve of labor and she is exhausted. They have been walking the last few hours to get past those last few centimeters. He rubs her back as she leans against the wall. Her hands are flat against it like she is trying to push through the wall and not just get her cervix open.

“Come baby. Cleansing breath. It is easing. You will never have to do that one again.” She forces her overwhelmed body to pull in the breath it and Faith need. “Good. Now let it out, slowly.” She does. Jamie has been an amazing coach. From the moment she had announced her water breaking until now, he has done all right. Knowing this, she tries real hard not to take out her pain and exhaustion, on him.

They resume walking, stopping every three and then two minutes.

“Oh God! Help me!” Her screams echo around the birthing center. Transition is upon them. Her franticness has him feeling the same. His support coaching air is gone . He has no idea what to do. He tries to place his arms around her. “No, don’t touch me!” She sinks to the floor and starts to rock. He stands still and watches her, wanting to run and get help (is this normal!) but afraid to leave her. “Oh f*cking damn, this hurts!”

Thank goodness, their midwife hears. She comes running up. Taking in the scene with one glance, she says, “We have reached transition. It won’t be long now.” Claire, his sweet loving wife, actually growls at her. She takes no offence. “We need to get her back in the room.”

She allows herself to be lead back to the room. He moves at a brisk walk recalling from childbirth class that the time between contractions is shorter now. They just make it.

“F*ck, damn, shit!” she screams out as her body tightens in a vise every nerve in her body seeming to respond to the pain message her cervix is sending. Grabbing ahold of the side of the bed, she attempts to anchor herself. Jamie stands quiet and still a prayer running through his mind. Yes, he knew labor would be hard but, to see her in such pain. He wishes he could take it himself. “Jamie please!”

“How can I help?” Her response is a whine that increases in volume as the crest comes. Jamie realizes that he had missed the end of the other, that they are coming to fast for that. An almost continuous pain at that level, how is she surviving it? He carefully reaches for her and she grabs tight to his hand. She squeezes so tight that he knows he will have bruises. But if that is all he can offer, he doesn’t mind if she breaks it.

“How long?” She gets out as she grabs a breath between the agony.

“Would you like me to check you?” She nods. She kneels and lifts the hospital gown that Claire wears. “There is just a tiny bit of cervix remaining. One more contraction should do it.” She stays where she is as Claire cries out in the horrible grip again. Jamie wills it to disappear, that tiny bit that is putting his wife through such hell. “That is it Claire. You are fully dilated and I see a bit of the coming bairn’s hair.”

“Oh, the baby!” She recalls the reason for all this misery. “What color?”

“Dark with curls. Can’t tell real color yet.”

“Must push!” Grunted out as she starts to. Jamie leads her into a more comfortable position. They are still on the floor. He wonders about moving her for half a minute then she is pushing back against him. The force that has been gathering through the long day condenses in the power behind his wife’s grunting pushing. He is fully awed by her.

She grabs breath after breath as she grapples with the force of her own uterus as their child is brought forth. The midwife is busy too, rubbing warned oil over the emerging head and the giving skin that is opening for it. She encourages when Claire starts to flounder under her growing exhaustion. He feels a bit useless other than being used as a brace. The women, these strong and mighty goddesses, are handling all else. He vowes to slap the next person that refers to women as the weaker sex.

“That is it Claire. Here comes her head.” Jamie looks down to see his daughter’s head come out and feels both awe and a bit nauseous. The midwife cleans her mouth and nose out. “okay mam, one more.” She pulls in strength from some secret place that no men has access to and presses down once more. He sees his daughter emerge. Claire reaches down to pull her up and burst into tears at the feel of Faith against her.

“Hello Faith Elena Fraser. Welcome to the outside. Happy birthday.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #chess #faith elena fraser #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom #modern au

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humans4vampires · 4 years ago

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1938 Debut

So, my Secret Santa for @teamlesbianbella turned into something way more than I anticipated! Your very frequent asks have now been answered. For your reading pleasure, I give you another short from Rosalie. And before I get the pitchforks and torches at my inbox requesting more, you should know, I am totally working on more as we speak.

I love you all and so appreciate your love for me. Enjoy the read and please do tell me what you think! Any requests of what else you’d like to see in this series would be wonderful guidance.

If you’re reading this series of mine for the very first time - or just want quick access to the first short - you can click this link right here: 1977 Homecoming

1938 Debut

“You’re a vision, darling,” Carlisle beamed, a hand extended toward me as I moved to greet him at the base of the stairs. Our hands met and he twirled me gently to admire my dress. I was glad French fashion was on the decline; the hemlines and necklines were quite a bit more conservative than that of the 20’s, and I’d only experienced that decade as a child. I had never had the chance to flatter my figure with such a silhouette. I turned to face the gilded mirror on the wall.

“It’s perfect, Carlisle,” I smiled. “Thank you.”

We both stood in front of our reflections, wide smiles gracing our perfect faces. I swayed softly, urging the delicate, aubergine satin to ripple with the movement. I admired each detail; the way the supple satin melted to my curves, how the translucent chiffon ruffled tenderly across the dramatic swoop of the sweetheart neckline and over my exquisite shoulders. My golden hair was pinned up in intricate swirls, leaving my décolletage exposed. I ran a finger over my collarbones in a swift line. I’d never seen anything more beautiful and elegant. Was it vain to think it so?

“Perhaps,” Edward was suddenly beside us in the mirror’s reflection. “Even if it is true.”

His tone, as always, was glib. But his expression seemed sincere. Carlisle turned to him, an ever-hopeful smile budding on his lips. Edward did not turn to meet his gaze. His eyes remained locked on mine. A handsome crooked smile crossed his expression as he opened a flat, velvet box.

“I thought this might suit you,” Edward shrugged lightly. We were still watching each other in the reflection. I gazed down at the exquisite string of pearls he held in his hands.

I met his amber eyes again, Your mother’s pearls?

Edward nodded, hearing my unspoken words. “A gift, if you’ll accept?”

My expression matched my disbelief and Edward laughed. The sound was warm and enticing. His eyes were gentle when he spoke.

“Something this beautiful deserves to be worn,” he said simply. “They were not created to stay shut up in a box.”

Though I would never voice it, Edward was incredibly thoughtful. Somehow, I felt it was beyond his gifts; as if he would have done this had he not been able to read my mind. Despite our often tumultuous relationship, I was grateful for my brother. Though, I’d never voice it.

He laughed again as he read back each of my thoughts. Edward handed the box to Carlisle and removed the pearls, holding them up with a questioning expression. I nodded once and turned my attention back to my own reflection. I refocused my thoughts on myself as he moved to clasp the pearls around my neck. I was distracted when our eyes met, amber to amber, in the mirror again.

“Thank you,” I said softly. I was amazed at the intensity of emotion that was evident in my voice.

Edward nodded, smiling again his beautiful, crooked smile in acknowledgement. A distant crack of thunder rolled miles away, the flash of the lightning passing through the panes of the window at the same moment, pulling our attention to the sound of the storm.

“It’s getting closer,” Carlisle noted. “Do you think it will make landfall?”

Edward shrugged, “Improbable. I’ve heard it’s curving toward the sea.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Carlisle agreed. “A storm hasn’t landed in Massachusetts in nearly the last century.”

“Though, we should consider that it has already made a strange and unexpected new course up the parallel of the Eastern Atlantic Coast,” I added.

Another crash of thunder seemed to affirm my comment. We were each calculating the distance of the storm when Esme made her entrance. Still deep in thought, Carlisle turned to greet her, as if on instinct. Their eyes met and broke Carlisle’s concentration. Esme glided down the stairs, her deep blue dress dancing around her as she moved to Carlisle’s side. I was sure Edward could feel it too; it was as if the atoms in the air were charged with a new electricity, as if some sort of strange magnetism collided between Carlisle and Esme as they reunited. They kissed tenderly. My eyes flitted to Edward and away in an instant.

I tried to stop my incessant thoughts of love, but it was difficult when the pinnacle of devotion was flaunted in front of me. Not that it bothered me. No, rather it teased me, giving me hope that there was still that kind of affection waiting for me. But it scared me, too. What if I never found it? What if I missed it somehow? What if I was destined to find it some millennia from now? If I had just this one hope for happiness in this never-ending, never-changing eternity, how was I to live not knowing if it was just a futile prayer?

I felt a rush of embarrassment as I thought of the fleeting wish that often crossed my mind: If only Carlisle had been right, how satisfying it would have been to have come into this new life to find my truest love. He thought me destined for Edward. Carlisle thought only of our intended happiness; two beautiful souls plucked from their bright futures like stars streaming across the night sky, only to burn too fast, too hot, meeting their untimely deaths. It would have made for a perfect love story… if only he’d been right.

Edward pretended he hadn’t heard my thoughts. I sighed, taking his arm that he had extended out to me.

“Shall we go then?” Edward raised his brows. I cleared my throat, joining Edward in his taunt to our parents. We made a show of averting our eyes.

They separated themselves then, Esme fixing her lipstick before she slid on her gloves. “Yes, thank you, Edward.” She said, sheepishly.

We left the house with inhuman speed as we rushed through the rain to the carriage house. Of course, carriages were long-gone and ours was the home of our –well, my– treasured 1937 Cadillac Fleetwood Series 75. Edward held the door for me as I slid across the leather seat of the back row. Esme joined me before Carlisle and Edward moved to sit in the front seat. As always, I was disappointed that I would not be driving. I hoped desperately that the future decades would give women more social liberties. How was it that it was uncouth for a woman to drive in the company of men? I knew more about cars and mechanics than any man.

Edward looked at me through the reflection in the rear-view. “You can drive us home.”

I smiled widely in acknowledgment.

Edward started the car and the pleasing rumble changed his expression. A smug smile bent my expression.

“I’m impressed,” he said, assessing the improvements I had made to the engine. “Tell me what you did.”

We carried on the conversation as he drove us deeper into the city. The streets were nearly flooded with the deluge of rain, yet Edward expertly drove at top-speed until we had reached The Copley Plaza. It was strange; I felt a pang of anxiousness as we pulled into the line of cars waiting for the valet. I tugged at the finger tips of my gloves, fidgeting with my growing discomfort as we came closer to the grand, red awnings of the hotel.

Esme placed a hand over both of mine and turned to face me. “Sweetheart,” she murmured. “Don’t be nervous. You have exceptional self-control.”

Carlisle turned in his seat, facing me, too. “We’ll be with you every moment,” he assured me. “But if you’re not ready, I understand. Edward can take you home—”

I shook my head quickly to reject him, “Of course not.” I stopped my nervous motions and squared my shoulders. “I’m more than ready.”

I saw my reflection in my father’s eyes. Suddenly, I saw the earnestness that was always there in his amber eyes echoed in my own. The same compassion for mortality was present in me. I was certain I would make it through my first human event without any catastrophes – or casualties. In many ways, this night felt like my debut into society.

I’d not been out for a formal event since my engagement party. My human memories of the experience were fading, which was a welcomed reprieve. It would be nice to replace those thoughts with what was to come. I was eager to get out and interact with people again. Though I’d had many chaperoned trips out of the house for practice, I’d not yet been so openly exposed to so many humans at once. This was the trial my family was eager for me to overcome. I put a determined look on my face to match my internal resolve. Carlisle turned back in his seat as the valet opened our doors.

The rush of air from the outside brought with it the strong scent of fresh, pulsating blood. The young valet extended his hand to me, too focused on the umbrella in his other hand to really see me. I was grateful for the barrier of our gloves between his skin and mine as he helped me from the car. I didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about such things; I was intoxicated by his scent. Humans smelled even more delicious in the rain. There was something about the way their blood blitzed in their bodies to keep them warm. I took a deep breath, soaking in his scent, his heat, as he pulled me closer. He looked down at me then, and his breathing halted. He stumbled back on his feet a bit and struggled to keep the umbrella above both our heads.

In an instant, I imagined pulling him even closer, gliding my hands over his crisp, white collar and guiding my lips toward his neck. He wouldn’t fight, I was sure of it. It was something he was wishing for, in fact. It would be simple and quick. Without even the chance to scream, his blood would be pooling in my mouth, his life in my hands. In the same moment, I pushed the thought away in disgust.

The boy watched me as I pondered his death, though the expression on his face was not frightened. He was… enamored. His heart fluttered frantically as he unconsciously moved closer to me. Ah, what a simple fool he was.

“There are more cars, Elliott!” Someone yelled, pulling the boy’s attention away. “Don’t stand there flirting!”

The boy, Elliott, turned from me to hide his blush. I could taste the heat of it on my tongue. Elliott led me to the safety of the awning, bringing me in clear view of the other men waiting there. I basked in their envious glances at Edward as he moved to take my arm. They watched me with awestruck eyes. Carlisle and Esme took the lead ahead of us into the bright and glittering lobby.

The room was opulent, rich with marble and stately chandeliers and by all accounts, imposing. But all eyes were on me; it was as if the world had stopped as we walked on. Every woman was full of envy, every man overwhelmed by my beauty. I assessed their glances, doubting that I had the power to draw everyone’s attention on my own. Because of course, my family was beautiful, too. But as if by some divine right, I knew their eyes were on me. I knew in that instant that my vanity would keep these humans alive. I far favored their adoration over their blood. After all, they couldn’t look at me this way when they were dead.

Edward sighed loudly.

I pouted, my high being clouded by his judgment.

“Stay out of my head,” I said too quickly for human ears.

“I wish I could,” he retorted.

Carlisle sighed then. “Behave,” he scolded.

“There our children are,” Esme chided. “I wondered how long it would last.”

Edward and I chuckled as we continued across the lobby.

“Carlisle,” a man called. “Carlisle, come meet Dr. Williams!”

We followed Carlisle as he approached a small group of older, balding men and their richly dressed wives.

“George, you must meet Carlisle,” the man said. “Dr. Cullen is extraordinary for such a young surgeon.”

“John,” Carlisle smiled, shaking his hand. “I hope you’re not boasting.”

I tuned out then, letting my eyes wander the room. I met a few pairs of glaring eyes, which pleased me, but I was more focused on the weather. Despite the heavy magnitude of the structure around us, I could easily hear the storm raging outside. The rain pelted the windows so loudly that I was surprised that the humans seemed unaware. Thunder droned on and on, the occasional bolt of lightning bursting its brightness across the marble floor. I turned to the grandfather clock I heard strumming across the room and counted the thrums; one, two, three o’clock.

“My wife Esme,” Carlisle’s voice caught my attention again. “And her brother,” he added.

“Edward Masen,” Edward introduced himself. “A pleasure.”

“And is this your lovely bride?” John questioned, still shaking Edward’s hand, his eyes on me.

“Rosalie Cullen, sir,” I said gently, extending my hand, removing the glove. “Edward kindly agreed to be my escort for the evening.”

John took my hand, kissing it lightly as Carlisle continued the charade. “My niece, from New York.”

John reacted to my cold touch, but passed the thought quickly. He nodded politely, his heart stuttering. “A pleasure,” he blushed.

“Edward, make your way into the ballroom,” Carlisle said, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket. “We won’t be far behind.”

Edward nodded, accepting the paper invitation from Carlisle’s hands. He handed it to me as he turned to the group and greeted them. “Gentlemen,” Edward said, pulling me away.

Finally, I thought.

Edward hummed in agreement. I looked down at the invitation in my hand as Edward walked with me. The paper was thick, expensive. The Great Depression was only a myth to those in this room. The invitation read:

The pleasure of your company is requested at the

3rd Annual Gala

to benefit

St. Peter’s Hospital

Wednesday, the twenty-first of September

Nineteen hundred and thirty-eight

at half past three o’clock

The Oval Room

The Copley Plaza

138 St. James Avenue

Boston, Massachusetts

Edward and I made our way through the large ballroom, passing a waiter on our way in. We each took a glass of champagne to stand on the perimeter of the room near the large, arched windows. We stood idly, making effort to take sips from our crystal flutes, sway, brush a stray hair away; we were playing human. Though it was so obvious we were anything but. I found myself raptured by my reflection again in the rain-soaked window beside me. In that same moment, the crushing blow of water on glass turned both my head and Edward’s.

It seemed to catch us both off-guard, the sound of rushing water on pavement. It was clear that we had been wrong about the storm; the hurricane from the south was quickly flooding the city. Our perfect ears heard every swirl of water as it charged toward us; it was less than a mile out. Windows were bursting, cars were shifting like ships out at sea, the sound of metal and glass playing like wind chimes. I could hear the screaming now.

But the humans here were completely unaware.

Danger was rushing toward them as they sipped their champagne and chattered mindlessly, naïve to the outside world. The metaphor was beautiful, and cruel.

Edward and I locked eyes. What do we do?

“Carlisle?” Edward said, his harsh tone almost a growl.

He and Esme were frozen in the doorway across the room, caught in the sounds of the chaos outside as Edward and I were. We all struggled to keep ourselves composed. Only a few seconds had passed.

Carlisle turned to Esme, but he spoke to us all. “Can we save them?”

Edward was curt, “How can we without exposing ourselves?”

“We can’t watch them all drown,” Esme whispered, breathlessly.

“If we barricaded the windows –“ Carlisle said.

Edward grabbed my arm, pulling me closer to him, “There’s no way. We can’t stay here.”

“Edward,” Esme’s tone was pleading. “Can’t we do anything?”

We moved toward Carlisle and Esme at a hurried, mortal pace, Edward tugging my arm in haste. When we reached Carlisle and Esme, we all froze.

There was this strange silence; I thought I had lost my hearing for a moment. The roar outside stopped for less than one second and the audio of the world seemed to pause.

And then the great, arched windows of the Oval Room quivered, bowed, and fractured.

____

To read more of my Rosalie series, click this link right here: 1977 Homecoming

To read some other things I’ve written for my Twilight babes, check out these links:

Cold Heart

Inebriated

My inbox is open for requests and love notes - which I always love.

#bookofthels #twilightsaga #twilight saga #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight fan fiction #twilight renaissance #twilight resurgance #twilight revival #Rosalie Hale #Rosalie x eleanor #edward cullen #edwardcullen #edward x bella #edward and bella #carlisle x esme #carlisle cullen #esme cullen

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wendimydarling · 4 years ago

Text

Count to Three

https://weheartit.com/entry/220987445

Title: Count to Three

Summary: Casey can’t fall asleep and Dean is there to help.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Casey Moore)

Word Count: 2110

Warnings: Fingering, Oral sex, external stimulation, female orgasm, protected penetrative sex, mention of bodily fluids.

A/N: So I usually post Henry Cavill content. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever posted a story that’s not for him. But this... this felt right. Please understand that this is the first smut I ever wrote, all the way back in 2012. I posted it forever ago on fanfiction.net, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t even operate anymore. I haven’t edited it save for some formatting that will make it easier to read, and I definitely cringed quite a bit while re-reading it, but it felt dishonorable to edit the original.

You’re not gonna understand everything that’s going on because it’s a snippet from a much larger fic, but the basic info that you need to know is that Casey and Dean are connected by a spell, and she sees his future in her dreams.

Now, there is a further continuation of the author’s note at the bottom of the fic explaining why I’m posting this that contains MASSIVE SPOILERS for the series finale, so if you don’t wanna know, don’t click keep reading. It’s that simple, I’ve done everything I can to defend you.

"Shhhh, shhhh... Casey, calm down." Dean strode across the room to sit next to her on the bed, uncharacteristically pulling her into his arms and putting his hand behind her neck. Casey wasn't even sure why she was crying, she was just so very frustrated at not being able to remember. The boys' life was in her hands, and her damn brain couldn't remember the dream.

"Casey, it's not gonna come back to you if you don't calm down," Dean whispered so she would have to quiet down and listen. "Now breathe." Casey closed her eyes and breathed deep, focusing on her other senses. Dean had never been this close before, and she could smell the soft musk of his soap. Sandalwood, leather, black pepper, a hint of scotch, and motor oil from his car, she thought to herself, letting the scent wash over her in soothing waves. She could hear him breathe, slow and steady, and she tried to match him as best she could. The hand she had on his chest could feel his heart, beating out a strong rhythm.

The muscles underneath that hand rippled at her touch, and for a moment she felt a small spark in the pit of her stomach. Casey opened her eyes and found herself eye to eye with the most beautiful irises she'd ever seen. She was normally such an observant person, how had she never noticed the piercing green she saw now? And his lips, they looked much softer when they were this close and not drawn into such a tight line. Her mind began to drift to things, inappropriate things, like how much experience he had and what he could be doing with those lips...

"Casey?"

Casey snapped back to reality.

"Sorry, I'm calm," she assured Dean quickly, not wanting to betray her thoughts. "I just wish I could remember. If I could just sleep, I would dream it again and remember, but I'm not even close to tired, so I doubt that will happen." Dean smirked, knowing full well what she had just been thinking (even though she very gracefully tried to hide it). He had been with enough women to know when they wanted him, and he had to admit he liked the idea of sleeping with Casey. She was a pretty girl, and feisty to boot. He'd been scheming for weeks, trying to figure out a way to get her to bed without it complicating things. Without realizing it, Casey had just handed him the solution on a platter, and he wasn't about to let it pass by.

"I could help you with that," he said, flirting. Casey looked up at him confused, so he went on. "With the sleeping... I know exactly what we could do to wear you out. All I have to do is count to three." His hand was still around her neck, so before Casey had time to register what he was saying, he pulled her to him and kissed her with a feather-light touch, making her question if his lips had actually touched her. He held his face right to hers and paused, waiting for her to put two and two together. Casey looked at Dean like he was crazy, and then suddenly it dawned on her.

"Oh," she breathed. "Okay." That 'okay' was all Dean needed and his mouth was on hers, lips moving together in a violent dance. He was normally gentle with his lovers, but this wasn't the time. The whole point was for Casey to be exhausted, so Dean was going to give her every move he had. She was going to beg before he let her have it.

Casey let Dean take charge; she was content to let him have his way with her, and the way he was moaning against her mouth, he seemed to agree. His hand left her face and came down to join its brother at the hem of her shirt. He lifted the fabric to reveal smooth skin, and even Dean was surprised at how soft it was. He paused the kiss to remove her shirt completely, stopping short once it was gone. She was even more beautiful than he had realized. Casey whimpered at the lack of touch, so he quickly pulled his shirt off and continued his attack on her lips; pushing her horizontal and climbing on top of her in the process. Casey was in heaven. She had never been kissed so forcefully, so passionately, and she loved it. The weight of his lips, the brush of his fingers, the firmness of his abs beneath her fingertips; it was all so wonderfully overwhelming. Her insides ached with desire, and she wanted more. She knew Dean was drawing this out on purpose, but she was getting frustrated. Wanting to move things along, she unbuckled his belt and whipped it out of its loops, surprising Dean and giving her the opportunity to unbutton and unzip his pants. Dean caught her wrists in his hands and brought them down to her sides.

"My timing," he scolded, laughing at her groan of displeasure. He gave her a little tease by undoing her pants and pulling them down just past her crotch. The cool air hit her exposed groin, fabric already wet with her desire, and she groaned again, this time in excitement. Pulling her arms above her head, Dean came back up to kiss her neck, skillfully running his tongue in the crease of her collarbone. He moved his head down to kiss her ribs, knowing that when he did she would arch her back, which would give him access to the back of her bra. Casey left her arms where they were as he undid the clasp, revealing her breasts. She wasn't a large girl, but she was proportioned in just the right way, each breast round with a small pink center. Showing no mercy, Dean took one of her nipples in his mouth as he pinned her arms again, sucking on the soft flesh to get it hard and then flicking it rapidly under his tongue. Casey cried out at the warm sensations, and tried in vain to get away from the teasing touches. Her breasts had always been slightly ticklish, and though it felt amazing, she couldn't help trying to escape his grasp. Dean held firm and continued the onslaught on her breasts, alternating between the two as her cries and squirms egged him on. He was having fun playing with her nipples, and seeing as though she couldn't go anywhere, he wasn't going to stop any time soon.

Casey could feel his cock growing harder against her leg, and her inability to touch him back increased her arousal. She wanted nothing more than to take his member in her mouth and torture him in return, but she was pinned, which only made her mound throb harder. "Dean! Dean pleeeease!" Casey screamed, the nerves in her breasts sending fire to her loins. "I can't... no more... I need... inside..." She couldn't even form a proper sentence. The fire was burning inside her, growing hotter and hotter as she begged him to give her release. It seemed as though her pleas fell on deaf ears as Dean ignored her request to enter her. Instead, he took both her wrists in one hand and brought the other hand down to tickle the breast his mouth wasn't currently sucking on.

The fire inside Casey erupted at the combination of the tandem touch, and she came hard. Her breath came out in strangled cries, and she bucked harder against him than she had before. Dean kept up his steady rhythm, licking and tickling and slowing only once she came down.

"One," he said with a grin, laughing softly at the expression on her face. He sat up quickly. Before Casey had time to reassemble her thoughts, Dean was tugging off her pants, and encircling her hips with one arm. The hand that had been pinning her arms slid down her side, past her hip, and came to rest cupping her crotch, thumb brushing against the skin he found there. Casey gasped against his touch, pleasure lacing itself through her veins. She tried to grab his hands, but Dean just smacked hers away. He pulled her panties down just enough that he could reach her bare clit, and stuck his talented tongue into the crevasses of her body. Casey keened as he began his torturous flicking again, wanting him to open her up and fuck her with that tongue instead. She felt Dean smile against her womanhood, and in vain she prayed he would give her more.

He didn't. Dean used his free hand to pin her wrists underneath her body so that she couldn't push him away and continued licking her up and down. He used two fingers from his other hand to move aside her underwear, slid them in between her lips and held them there, making Casey gasp, and pull against his firm grip.

"No, Dean please," she said, trying to persuade him to free her hands. Dean ignored her and held fast, shifting his body slightly to spread her legs a little further apart (which elicited another gasp from Casey). He brought his lips down to her button and sucked hard, shoving his fingers inside of her at the same time. Casey's brain exploded at the sudden warmth of his fingers. He pushed and pulled and twisted and scissored in every possible way, contorting his fingers to find every spot inside of her that made her scream. Of course, that wasn't very hard to do; thanks to his mouth on her slit it didn't matter where his fingers went, her orgasm stayed strong.

"Oh my God... Oh my God, Dean!" She cried out as wave after wave of pleasure continued to roll through her.

"That's right baby, say my name," Dean mumbled around her mound, trying his best to ignore how unbearably tight his pants were. He would have satisfaction soon enough, so he focused on her. She was still choking out strangled gasps of pleasure, so he moved his fingers faster, pumping her in time with his tongue. Casey's eyes rolled back into her head and she became rigid, her body locked in spasms and her mouth falling open into a silent scream. Her muscles relaxed and she went limp, eyes closed, head rolling slightly and chest heaving. She didn't even fight Dean's grip anymore, just moaned as he slowed down his pace. "Two," Dean noted quietly as he took the opportunity to stand up and remove his pants and boxers. He groaned in relief as his throbbing cock was freed from its tight bondage, not at all surprised to see he was already leaking. He bent over and pulled a condom from his wallet, tearing the wrapping with his teeth and then slipping the condom on with one hand. Casey hadn't moved, hadn't even felt him get up. Eyes still closed, she felt gentle fingers slowly tug her panties off, so she spread her legs wide, inviting whatever was to come next. She was expecting more teasing, more drawn out torture, so when she was suddenly filled with Dean's length, her eyes snapped open, breath catching in her throat. Dean growled, and began to thrust himself deep inside her. Casey's reaction was immediate, her body opening up to receive all of him, her arms coming above her head so her hands could grasp the sheets behind her. Dean was relentless, pounding into her with fury. He grasped the headboard for leverage, and kept up his pace, hard and fast. Casey cried out every time he was deepest, and Dean felt himself slipping over the edge. Casey's third orgasm rocked through her body at the same time Dean let go, his shout mixing with her cry. He continued to thrust through his orgasm, keeping her pleasure high, until it hurt too much to continue. Casey relaxed her body again, and let Dean clean up, too tired to move.

Dean finished in the bathroom, and came back into the room to find Casey fast asleep, still naked and sprawled across the bed. Dean looked at her tenderly, pulling the covers out from under her body and draping them over her so she would be warm. He climbed into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her worn out frame. She snuggled closer to him, seeking his warmth, and looked up at him through moon-slit eyes.

"Thank you," she mumbled to him, drifting back into sleep. Dean looked down at her and kissed her forehead.

"Three," he whispered.

A/N Continued: Okay, so I’m not here to get into a debate about what they did or did not do right in last night’s episode. I don’t care about your politics, I don’t care about what you think about the episode as a whole. I’m posting this as a tribute. A tribute to Dean Winchester.

Dean is... was, my first love. He introduced me to writing. He was my first boyfriend, he showed me things about my body that I wasn’t aware it could do. He showed me what it meant to keep fighting in the face of adversity. He was there to encourage me when all hope seemed lost. He reminded me that he too dealt with what seemed like an unloving parent, with a parent who no matter what you did, it was never enough. And watching him die like that broke my heart.

So, this story is for you Dean. I love you, I will always love you, and it’s okay.

You can go now. ❤

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction

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ververa · 4 years ago

Text

Paradise

Previous part: Surprise

A/N: I gotta give a huge shout-out to @emilyprentissisababe, cause it would never have been written if it hadn’t been for her.

Warnings: none I guess, it’s just smut that everyone wanted.

Hope you’ll enjoy it! Also, any kind of feedback would be really appreciated.

Xandra x fem!reader x Billie Dean Howard

Words: 3.524

You didn't drink much. Not that you wanted to. All you wanted and needed was to relax a little bit and release some pent up tension from the past few weeks. In fact, even if you would want to get drunk, Xandra wouldn’t let you. You did have a couple of drinks and you were a bit tipsy, but definitely not drunk - at least you kept saying that.

“It’s time to go back home” Xandra stated

“I don’t want to”

“That wasn’t a question babygirl” the blonde said

You pouted looking at Billie, hoping that she would take your side.

“Xandra is right” Billie said

You huffed making them laugh.

“You’re adorable” the medium said pecking your lips

That was unexpected, but it did feel good. You looked at Xandra a bit worried how she would react, but she seemed to be just fine. Instead of saying anything she kissed you as well.

“Now, we’re going back home” she said once again, though you didn’t protest anymore.

You were way too curious where that could go and you couldn’t deny that you really wanted it to go further.

You didn’t remember half of the ride home. Maybe you weren’t all that sober as you had thought. But even in your drunk state you could notice all those knowing smiles the two women were exchanging. You knew where it was all going. The only thing you weren’t sure about was - what exactly you should expect when you get to the bedroom. You were worried about how Xandra and Billie were going to handle being in the same room together. You knew very well that they were both strong women, who didn’t take orders from anyone and definitely weren’t used to share. Xandra was easily jealous, which she had proven many times. Billie, on the other hand, seemed more laid back, but you had a feeling it was going to change in your bedroom. You may have been nervous, but still, the idea of two women touching you already had wetness pooling between your legs. You couldn’t help, but kept thinking of everything that could happen.

The last thing you expected, was what actually happened. As soon as you got to the bedroom Billie instructed you to sit on the bed, which you did almost immediately. Your heart beating faster and faster at the thought of what was about to happen. Yet, to your surprise Billie strutted to Xandra instead. She slowly reached up, cupping Xandra’s face with her hand. She looked into her eyes, searching for permission. She didn’t need to wait long, as Xandra closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against Billie’s. It took no time before Xandra had Billie pressed against the wall and her thigh placed between Billie’s legs. The medium instinctively started grinding on Xandra’s thigh. And you… you couldn’t even think straight watching the two most beautiful women in the world like that. They were a mess of tongues and moans. Though as quickly as it had started, it was over. You were almost disappointed, cause you definitely wanted to see more.

"Sit back." Xandra instructed

You did as you were told and in response Xandra pressed a quick kiss against your lips. In one fluid motion she pulled your shirt over your head. You caught Billie biting her lip at the sight of your breasts spilling over your bra. She strutted her way over to you. Lightly placing her hand on your thigh, dragging it all the way down your leg until she reaches your ankle. She took off your shoes, placing small kisses against the lower part of your leg.

In response, Xandra almost pushed Billie out of the way as her hands made a beeline to unbutton your pants. She painstakingly pulled them off of your legs, her fingers leaving light scratch marks as she dragged them down. There you sat it nothing but your underwear, meanwhile they were fully clothed.

They took in the sight in front of them.

"She’s perfect, isn't she?" Xandra said

"Yes" Billie agreed, drinking in the image of you "You're beautiful sweetheart."

You looked dow feeling the warmth in your cheeks. It was normal to hear compliments from Xandra. But Billie... it was new and it felt weird to hear praises from another woman, who like Xandra was older than you. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You were still not sure what to expect or how this was going to go.

"Baby girl, don't shy away." Xandra said

She knew you so well, that she could literally read your mind.

"Come to mommy." She ordered

You got off of the bed and took a few steps towards her. When you were close enough she grabbed your chin. Her hold was firm, but also gentle enough not to hurt you. Your eyes met and she smiled and before you knew it, her lips were on yours.

You let her tongue slip into your mouth and dominate yours. It always felt so good. You were almost lost in the kiss when she pulled away. You opened your eyes, a small whine escaping your lips. To quiet you she placed a finger on your lips. You knew exactly what she wanted you to do. You were her baby girl, she didn't even need words to express her wishes, so you began sucking on the first finger and then the next. Your tongue twirling around the width of her fingers.

"You have no idea what those lips can do." Xandra said to Billie.

With Xandras fingers still in your mouth you glanced at Billie. She was licking her lips. And her pearls. She was lightly fingering her pearls like you'd seen her did a thousand times before on the set as she watched you dance. She knew that drove you crazy. She knew what she was doing to you.

"Y/N show Billie what you can do."

You were unsure of what she meant so she continued, "Billie, come here."

As she approached the first thing you noticed were her eyes. They were black with lust. That turned you on even more. Xandra moved away to allow Billie access to you.

"Such a good girl." Xandra smiled at you. The medium reached up, caressing you cheek like you’d seen her did to Xandra before.

"You're so warm. " she said giving Xandra a look "did we warm you up already?" She smirked

You wanted to look down again. Your cheeks filling with heat again, but Xandra stopped you, pressing her entire body against your back, her hands squeezing on your hips.

"Its okay sweetheart. I'm sure Billie is as flattered as I am that we can do this to you." she whispered, nibbling on the shell of your ear.

"Oh I am" Billie Dean said before licking her lip again and pressing them to yours. It felt amazing. Before that moment you were sure Xandra was the best kisser. But that kiss was filled with lust. You could sense her hunger in the way her tongue worked in your mouth. She didn't try to dominate the kiss like Xandra usually did. She wanted the kiss to linger. Her gentle touch took your breath away. It was hard to say what felt better- Billies lips pressed against yours or Xandra sucking a mark on your neck. You moaned into Billies mouth as Xandra sucked harder. That's when the medium pulled away. You were both breathless. Billie cupped your face again, pulling you into another kiss. She lightly bit your lip and if that wasn't enough Xandra slipped her hand down your breast, across your stomach and into your panties. You whined into Billies mouth, muffling the sound.

"Mmm so wet." Xandra purred

"Don't tease...." you said breathlessly.

"Isn't she beautiful when she is mad?" Xandra chuckled, kissing your jaw.

"I think she always looks beautiful." Billie Dean said. That made you think she’s on your side and would give you what you wanted. Though you soon realized you were wrong.

"But when she's mad there's that something that makes her even more attractive" she added, leaning in to kiss you.

You closed your eyes, expecting to feel Billies lips against your own, thought instead she kissed Xandra again. You groaned, ready to move away if it hadn’t been for Xandras strong hold on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked playfully. "We’re not finished yet"

"Actually this is only the beginning" the medium said before capturing Xandras lips again, sucking Xandra’s bottom lip into her mouth, sucking on it roughly, earning a moan from her.

You longed to feel their lips on your body, but them kissing each other was turning you on more than being kissed yourself. You watched them in anticipation, biting your lip. You hand wandered between your legs, ready to touch yourself when Xandra stopped you.

"Honey, you know better than to do that. We are the only ones who can touch you" she smirked "I guess someone is worked up" she added smiling deviously at Billie.

"Oooooh just look at her. My God, you're adorable." Billie smiled and kissed each of your cheeks.

You could tell by the look on Xandras face that she had something in store for you.

"Baby girl, do you think you could wait a bit longer?"

You bit your lip harder, tasting a bit of blood in your mouth. You were already wet and wanted nothing more than for her to go down on you, but you knew it would be worth it so you nodded.

"I want you to eat me out. Do you think you can do that?"

Of course you could. There wasn't a single thing you wouldn't do for her. You looked at Billie waiting for some feedback. Before she even opened her mouth you could tell what she was going to say.

"I'm happy to watch..."

Then you looked back at Xandra and nodded as an obedient girl that you were.

"I promise, little one, you'll get your reward." she kissed you before moving on to the bed.

You helped her remove her clothes, placing small kisses on her body as each piece was removed and she placed herself on the edge of the bed. You placed small kisses across her stomach, dragging your tongue to her left thigh, sucking on the spot where her leg meets her hip. This wasn't anything new. You'd done it before. But that time was different. Billie was there and you're aware of her eyes on your back. The thought making you dripping even more. You looked up for a moment, looking for Billie. She was sitting behind you in a chair. Legs spread with her hand down her pants, touching herself. You felt like in that moment you could come just from her gaze. You swallowed hard, turning your attention back to Xandra.

"You know what to do, tiger." She smirked

You nodded - kissing up her thigh again. You needed her too, but that didn't mean you were going to hurry. You loved pleasuring your love and you loved being in control for once.

You placed a gentle kiss against Xandras center. She wasn’t expecting that and gasped. You smiled knowing you had this effect on her. Then quickly you took your tongue and flicked it against her slit. Moving it up and down the entire length of her. It wasn’t long before she was writhing in the bed, gripping the sheets with both hands. You continued your motions, humming to yourself against her skin. The vibrations driving her crazy. She must have been pretty worked up too. You smiled. Licking her length one more time before taking her swollen nub into your mouth. Twirling your tongue around it a few times before sucking on it hard. She moaned loudly and right after that Billie did too. You'd almost forgotten about her, so focused on Xandra. Then your mind wandered and you wanted desperately to see what Billie was doing, but you couldn’t stop what you were doing. Xandra was gripping your hair, grinding against your face. You kept sucking until she cried out your name and you smiled as she rode out her release.

You placed one more kiss on her inner thigh before she pulled you up to her mouth, kissing you deeply. She moaned at the taste of her orgasm on your tongue and you smiled. You loved being able to do that for her. But with Xandra fully pleasured your curiosity got the better of you. You broke the kiss to look at Billie. She was still in the chair touching herself but somehow in the middle of that she took of her shirt and bra. Her perfect round breasts caused you to lick your lips. She noticed your gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Like what you see?" she teased

You could only nod, not able to form words. She looked perfect - sitting there with her hands down her pants and only pearls around her neck.

You looked back at Xandra, still coming down from the high. She was still panting. She looked beautiful like that - breathless because of you.

"Go show her just how good you are baby girl" she said biting her lip before she nodded

You smiled wide. You had never thought you'd give both of these beautiful women an orgasm in the same night. Let alone with the other watching.

Billies hand still hadn't left its place between her legs, but her hand slowed as she watched you make your way towards her. You could tell she was close already - just from watching you. The idea making you moan. When you got closer she used her free hand to pull you closer. She captured your lips with hers and allowed you to place one leg between hers and straddle her leg. She was needy and couldn't help but ground against your leg.

As she depended the kiss she placed her hands on your hips. One hand still wet from her pleasuring herself, which sent a shiver down your spine. She smiled into the kids before using her hands to show you exactly how to ride her thigh. You groaned, breaking the kiss. She took the moment to press a kiss against your pulse point. But that was your time to be in control. So you stopped her, pressing your lips against her one more time before licking down her neck and capturing one of her nipples in your mouth. She whimpered, pulling your head harder into her. You lightly traced your fingers down her perfect abdomen before toying with the fabric of her waistband. You could tell it was driving her crazy.

"P-please. Touch me...." she whined

You loved that feeling. No wonder Xandra loved to torture you. There's nothing like having someone needy under your touch. You smiled against her breast, nipping lightly at the skin here.

In one fluid motion you plunged your fingers below, immediately plugging one finger into her. She cried out loudly at the motion and you smiled again. She was already so wet for you. It's not long before you added another finger with varying speeds. You also switched breasts, giving the other the same attention as the first. Billie’s hips started bucking wildly against your hand. She pulled you up to her, kissing you forcefully. As she rode your hand you curled your fingers within her and she cried out your name as she climaxed on your hand. You allowed her to ride out the pleasure before slowly removing your hand. Maintaining eye contact with Billie you slowly licked her juices off of your hand. You paused for a moment, taking in the look on Billie’s face. Before you could finish sucking on your fingers she pulled you into another kiss - even more passionate than the one before. When you pulled away Xandra was there. It surprised you a bit, as you hadn’t expected her to be so close.What happened next definitely wasn’t what you had thought would happen.

Xandra took your hand and sucked on each of your fingers, cleaning Billie off of you with precision. Both you and Billie groaned in unison at the sight.

Wordlessly, Xandra stood you both up, before kissing Billie and then you. You knew what's next and you knew what you wanted. So you kissed Xandra deeply. Tongue running down the length of hers before pausing.

"Join us?" you smiled wickedly

Xandra was taken aback. Usually she was the dominating one. The one making requests. But she sure was enjoying seeing you being in charge.

Not needing to be told twice Billie placed her lips on the corner of your mouth while you kissed Xandra. Soon you were all just a mess of tongues and moans. You couldn’t tell whose tongue was in your mouth as you all tasted Billie on your lips. You couldn’t tell whose hand was gripping your ass or who was massaging your breast. You didn’t know who you were touching either, but it felt like bliss.

Sooner than you'd rather you had to pause to breathe. You were all breathless.

"Baby girl, go lay down and let us fuck you" Xandra knew exactly what you wanted to hear. Your legs felt weak at the request, but you nodded.

You weren’t sure how you made it onto the bed, but somehow you did.You didn’t know what was going to happen exactly, but seeing both Billie’s and Xandra’s eyes dark with lust already had you squirming. You felt naked, even though you were still partially clothed, laying there ready to be pleasured.

“Tisk, tisk, tisk." Xandra notes "you're so wet sweet girl"

"Mmmm" Billie replied, licking her lips upon seeing the wet spot in your underwear.

The two of them commenting about your arousal was enough to drive you crazy. Thankfully Xandra placed herself at your head and Billie at your feet. They each slowly started kissing in their respective positions. Billie kissing your ankle, Xandra kissing your temple. They were going to drag it out for you. You were squirmy and ready and they knew it. Xandra made her way down kissing your lips and then kissing your neck. As Xandra sucked on your collarbone Billie placed a kiss on your lips. Xandra left a mark on your neck as Billie made her way down to your breast. Billie unhooked your bra, gasping at the sight of your round breasts. She salivated at the thought and kissed the underside of your breast. You could feel her leaving her mark there when Xandra joined her. They smiled deviously at each other before each took a nipple into their mouths. You groaned loudly. They were each caressing your upper thigh and it was driving you mad. They were so close, yet too far from where you wanted to be touched. Almost as if they could hear each other's thoughts they stopped pleasuring your breast and simultaneously began licking and nibbling their way down to your hip bones. Xandra began pulling off your underwear which were now completely soaked through. As she did it you lifted your hips to help her. Billie was kissing your hip bone and followed your underwear down your leg until she was hovering over where you wanted to be touched most. She inhaled.

"Wow Y/N... You smell fantastic" she practically moaned

She looked at Xandra almost asking for permission. Xandra nodded and placed a small kiss on your thigh before running her tongue down the length of you. She smiled watching you squirm.

"Since you've been such a good girl while she eats you, I'm going to finger you."

You moaned loudly. You always loved being told what she was going to do to you and she knew it.

"That's my good girl" Xandra smirked

Billie flattened her tongue against you running it down your length one more time before sucking on your clit. Xandra slowly entered one finger inside of you. You moaned again - already ready to orgasm from all the built up tension. The combination of the two of them was almost too much to bear. You bucked your hips once into Billies face but pulled back, unsure if it's okay, at which Billie chuckled.

"Hump my face sweetie" was all she said before resuming her motions.

That was almost enough to push you over the edge right then and there. The next thing you knew - Xandra had inserted another finger and was curling them in the spot she knew was driving you wild. You bucked your hips wildly. Somehow Billie never lost the contact with you and Xandra never stopped the motions of her hand as you rode out your orgasm. They each took turns cleaning you up with their mouths, and sharing your taste as they licked and sucked on each others tongues. You moaned again.

It was hard to believe you had not one, but two amazing women - who knew exactly how to make you feel special. It felt amazing. Almost as if you were in your own paradise with two goddesses.

Tag list:

@midnight-lestrange

@natasha-danvers

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future works :)

#billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard x xandra #xandra #xandra x reader #xandra x reader x billie dean howard #sarah paulson imagine #AHS #ahs imagine #the goldfinch #part 8

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yoongi-sugaglider · 4 years ago

Text

Forget Me Nots- Epilogue

A wealthy young man falls overboard while vacationing with friends only to find himself with amnesia and a pretty young wife who seems determined to remind him what hard work and dedication really mean.

Warnings: Strong language, angry Min Yoongi inaccurately portrayed based upon the writer’s imagination,angst, eventual super fluff.

Pairing: Eventual Min Yoongi x reader

Word count: 3021

A/n: Well...this is the end my lovelies~ I am honestly so full of emotions right now I can’t even begin to sort through how I’m feeling lol. Sad because it’s over? Joyful because I’m happy with the ending. Excited to see everyone’s reactions. Yes to all of that~ I wanna thank @btsstan4life and @min-newt for lending themselves as characters to the story. To my new network @castlebangtan and the lovely bunch of angels that so graciously gave me the support I needed to push through the feels and finally get this out there. To my daughter for being the amazing sweetheart and always supporting my stories by asking me to read them to her at night. And to you, the person reading this right now? Thank you for the journey, thank you for the support and kind words. The likes and reblogs boost my confidence and allow me the motivation to push forward. To y/n and Yoongi, I know this was a tough journey, but the end is finally here. I wish you both happiness and joy and I hope you can find peace in the ending I’ve written for you. Thank you for allowing me to tell your story and...good bye~

<<Chapter 10

As the sound of the ambulance’s siren disappeared into the distance the woman found herself sitting on the floor. Back pressed into the cool wood of the front door her eyes stared listlessly into the distance, mind empty and yet so very full of the pain and devastation that was their last conversation.

“You let me fall in love with you!”

His final words before his collapse rang through the house, filling it with a weight that no amount of crying could have chased away.

Her two pups pressed in close to her, each seeking to give their owner some sort of comfort in the numb grief she found herself wrapped within. Champ pressed into her side, nose nudging her cheek occasionally as Kaia curled the entirety of her upper body on her lap. The woman’s fingers mindlessly combed through Kaia’s silky fur, head leaning into Champ’s shoulder as the first sob slipped free.

“Guys...I fucked up…” She hiccupped, tears finally spilling down her cheeks as she burried her face into Champ’s chest. The shepherd licked at her temple, a tiny whine escaping him as he sought to comfort his owner in the best way he could.

She couldn’t understand where this grief was coming from. Him remembering his past should have come as a relief. Right?

She’d no longer have to worry about how to break the news to him, what to do about the strange man that’d come to live in her house for the past week. Never again have to think about the soft secret smiles he gave the dogs as he sat curled into the sofa, fingers tracing shapes in their fur as they watched the sun set out the window.

Not have to worry about the scent of sandalwood that seemed etched into his skin that would waft up every time he passed by her. Or the strange butterflies that danced in her belly when she’d wake up to the scent of breakfast and coffee each morning.

Her sobs grew louder, inconsolable as the anguish that tormented her heart grew in size, consuming her soul with her realization.

“Oh god...I fell in love with him.”

***

The sterile scent of hospital served as a solid reminder and wake up call as she made her way to the front desk in search of her husb...in search of Yoongi.

The nurse pointed her in the direction of his room and she swallowed harshly, fingers digging crescents into her palms as she hefted the bag of belongings she’d gathered to return to him.

Standing before the hospital room door she steeled herself, unsure of what to expect but knowing it was possible that she’d get turned away immediately. But this was something she had to do. At least that’s what she’d said to convince herself. She knew she didn’t stand a chance in earning or even begging for forgiveness. But she could only hope that she’d get the chance to say good bye.

“Miss you can’t be here. This is a private room.” A sharply dressed man approached her, dark sunglasses hiding the obvious gaze of what could only be a security guard.

“I umm...I was just returning his…”

“You should leave. Access to this room is forbidden.” His stern tone left no room for argument and she ducked her head in acknowledgement.

Dashing away she paused at the nurse’s station, making a quick and wavering request that the belongings be returned to the man she knew she’d never see again.

*** “Y/n, can I speak to you in my office please?”

She glanced up from her paperwork, flashing her boss a soft smile before shuffling the paperwork to the side and standing to follow him.

“Something the matter Troy?” She asked as she closed the office door behind her.

“Ah, nah. Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to let you know that the company responsible for the wrecked carpet cleaner paid to have the machine replaced. So you don’t have to worry it.”

She frowned, eyes wandering to the window overlooking the dock full of ships outside. “Did you ask them to or…”

“They actually reached out. When they returned the Veloce it was actually really clean so I wasn’t sure that we’d hear from them after outside of a review but ah…” He glanced down at a sticky note, squinting at his own handwriting before smiling up at her. “A Namjoon called, said he wanted to apologize to you for all the trouble and to thank you for everything you did to help.”

A mental image of smiling dimple filled cheeks flashed across her mind and she smiled sadly, nodding to Troy before leaving the office to return to work.

“I...guess it’s all over now huh?”

*** “So you’re telling me it took you six months to finally hire a new dishwasher?”

Rose grinned, digging into her burger as she nodded in reply to Devani’s question.

“Yeah, and the new kid is a hell of a worker too! Kind of cute. Right up your alley chicka.” She snorted at the blush rising up the girl’s cheeks. “It was damn near impossible to find a new hire after Yoon...ah... after the last guy quit the way he did.”

Rose’s panicked gaze darted to y/n, though the woman seemed lost in her own thoughts and wasn’t much paying attention to the conversation between her two best friends. Her dull gaze wandered their favorite coffee shop, listlessly wandering from face to face as if she was fruitlessly caught in a subconscious search for someone that wasn’t there.

“Hey...you with us y/n?” Devani chirped up, giving her a sad smile as the dazed woman’s gaze returned to their table.

“Hmm?” Her fork moved for the first time since the salad had been placed before her, though it just picked mindlessly at the leafy meal as her focus struggled to take in the concerned faces before her.

“You’re stuck again love.” Rose said quietly, lips turning down into a frown as she watched her heartbroken friend give her an empty smile.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” She quietly hummed, reaching forward to take a sip from her now lukewarm cup of coffee.

The friends sat in silence for a while, allowing the world to revolve and pass around them as they each sat in their own little worlds of quiet contemplation.

A notification dinged on Devani’s phone, causing the girl to perk up with a grin as she swiped it open and eagerly read the email she’d just received.

“Ah! Oh my god I got them!” She squealed, hugging the phone to her chest and bouncing in her seat with all of the energy of a puppy given its first ball.

“What? Dude chill.” Rose giggled, reaching out to calm her friend with a warm grip to her arm.

“The VIP tickets I entered that contest for last week!” Devani grinned, turning the phone screen to Rose to reveal its secrets. “They just sent me an email letting me know I won!”

“No way that’s great!” Y/n grinned, the festive atmosphere snapping her out of her funk in favor of celebrating her friend’s good fortune.

“How many did you get?” Rose asked, leaning back into her seat and tapping her fingers absentmindedly on the table top.

Devani flipped the phone back around, eyes darting to and fro as she scanned the email’s contents. “Hmm...3 tickets. No way that’s freaking perfect!” She looked up at the women excitedly, her eyes practically sparkling in the brightness of the cafe’s lights. “You guys will come with me right? It won’t be the same without you!”

Rose nodded eagerly, grin bright and on display until she turned to see y/n’s frown darkening the mood slightly.

“I don’t know guys… I don’t think I’d be up for it….”

“No way! We’re not letting you miss this! It’s been ages since we had a girl’s night out and we refuse to go without you.” Rose glanced over to Dev, glaring at her dejected look for a moment and then grinning in triumph as it turned instantly to a look of determination.

“Rose is right. All for one and one for all.” She shook her head at the older woman’s protests. “No we’re all going together or not at all.”

“But you worked so hard to get those tickets. You can’t just not go Devi!” she tried hard to protest, stammering out her opposition to the idea.

But the girls were unrelenting, insisting over and over until they’d worn the woman down into going.

The three giggled, making plans quickly and allowing the excitement to flow through them at the prospect of the concert awaiting them that coming weekend.

Perhaps this was just what she needed to pull her out of that cloud of funk after all.

***

“Hyung! We’re on in an hour. Have you got the new battery pack for your in-ear?” Jimin’s sweet voice cut through the brooding Yoongi’s chaotic thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

Nodding at Jimin’s words he stood from the hairstylist’s chair, brushing at the blue jeans and brightly colored shirt that was the stage outfit for their first song of the night. It hadn’t taken much for him to regain his memories, thoughts that’d remained locked away and dreams that at some point in the week he’d spent questioning his existence had disappeared all at once came flooding back in that one final argument.

And yet here he stood, returned to his life as an idol and thrust back into the spotlight like nothing had ever happened but unable to put a name to the emotion that’d sat heavy in his chest since the day he’d been released from the hospital only to realize he might never see that soft smiling face again.

“Yoongi-ssi, they’re letting the VIP’s back for a few minutes before they get sat. Did you want to go say hi before you go out?” His manager looked up from the tablet with their schedule, holding Yoongi’s gaze for a moment before nodding and tapping out a quick message.

“I’ll let them know you’re on the way.”

The room cleared out, leaving him alone with his thoughts as he continued to stare at the reflection judging him in the mirror.

He’d changed a bit since the incident. Long gone was the minty green hair he’d sported, replaced in favor of a silvery grey number that was slowly growing on him. He’d gained back some of the weight he’d lost when the stress had been eating at him from an upcoming album release that’d gone far better than he’d expected. All in all he felt better, healthier, content with his standing in life where before he’d just felt frustration and rage against the things he couldn’t change. And yet something still felt like it was missing. A certain emptiness in his soul that seemed like it was waiting to be filled. With what he just couldn’t be sure.

Turning away from the mirror and dismissing the thoughts he left the room, entering the bustle of the corridors post concert and making his way to the meeting room his manager had set aside for the VIPs to meet with him and his band mates.

The room was filled with sound, a cacophony of cheer and joy. Fans meeting their idols and idols enamored with the tales and thanks that came with meeting their supporters.

Namjoon walked over to him, grin splitting his face from ear to ear as he clapped Yoongi on the shoulder.

“Don’t look so glum hyung. There’s someone here waiting for you. I think she’s got some things she’s been waiting to say to you.”

The cryptic words left Yoongi feeling confused, and somehow apprehensive as he walked deeper into the room. A few young women stopped him, crowding in to give him praise over his latest solo song as young men hung back with shy grins echoing the joy the far bolder sex seemed so eager and willing to share with him.

His idol smile set in place, a kind and soft affair that always seemed to either placate his fans or rile them up depending on the context. His manager handed him a silver sharpie, giving the fans the go ahead to hand him their albums and shirts to be signed with all the flourish of a practiced celebrity. Yoongi made quick work of them, assuring the chittering ARMY that he appreciated their support and loved them wholeheartedly.

Eventually those around him moved on, spotting one or another of the members that’d chosen to enter the room at that time. Attention drifted away from him, giving him a moment of respite that he capitalized on by moving to the refreshment table in search of a water bottle to quench his sudden thirst.

As he reached for one of the label free bottles a tiny hand darted out, touching the bottle just as his own wrapped around the dainty wrist. He froze, a chill of fear and excitement rushing through his veins at the sight.

He knew that hand, those work worn fingers that trembled beneath his grip. His eyes trailed up the sun kissed skin of her arm, eyes meeting her own fear filled ones as his grip tightened.

“Yoongi…” She gasped, eyes filled with a number of emotions and the growing sparkling of tears.

As they held each others gazes, unbeknownst to them the managers began clearing the room on Namjoon’s orders, emptying it for the two to have a private moment to themselves. Y/n friends watched, grins spreading wide as Namjoon led them to the door.

“Finally!” The trio whispered in unison, sharing giggles and chatting away as the door was closed behind them.

“You came.”

“You’re here.”

They spoke together, each refusing to acknowledge the heat rising to their cheeks as Yoongi finally released her wrist and cleared his throat to fill the following awkward silence.

“I um… I didn’t realize that this was your concert.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, shuffling her feet as she focused her eyes on a scuff mark on the floor in front of him.

“When I saw Namjoon and the others I well...I tried to leave but they wouldn’t let me…”

Yoongi watched her, eyes taking in her anxious form as he listened to her ramble on.

“Why would you leave?” He asked.

Her gaze snapped to him, eyes wide with fear as she fumbled for her next words.

“I, well I mean… I didn’t think you’d want to see me. Especially after I...after everything.”

“After you lied to me?” She nodded at his words and opened her mouth to reply but he refused, continuing on as he began listing off what was on his mind.

“After you took care of me? Giving me food and shelter and comfort when the absolutely terrifying moment of losing my memory to an assault happened? Allowing me to live in a fantasy that involved giving me more care and love than anyone ever has in my entire life?”

He stepped forward, crowding her with his presence as he stared down at her with all of the heat and passion that had been building within him over the past few months since he’d been away from her.

“You gave me the break I needed y/n. A peaceful existence that I never thought I could have in this messed up stressful life that is the idol world.” He reached out, hands coming up to caress her trembling arms as he moved impossibly closer.

“Do you have any idea how often I’ve thought about you since I left? How much I regret what I said? How much I hate myself for hurting you the way I did after everything you did for me?”

She inhaled sharply, the scent of sandalwood and male musk that was so uniquely his flooding her senses and filling her with an impossible hope that she hadn’t thought possible.

“I just...I lied to you Yoongi. How could you...how could you ever forgive me?” She choked on the words, sobs spilling forth as she buried her face in his chest.

His heart broke, seeing first hand the impact his callous words had had on the sweetest person he’d ever met in his life.

“Forgive you? If anything I’m the one that should be begging your forgiveness.” He wrapped his arms around her, clinging tightly to her as he buried his face in the warmth of her hair and inhaled deeply.

“I love you y/n. Honestly and truly. When I thought I’d never see you again it hurt. I couldn’t breath from the thought of losing you, of never seeing that sweet smiling face. Of coming home to see those goofy dogs of yours greeting me every day and knowing that I had finally...finally come home.” He kissed the top of her head before stepping back and crouching slightly to gaze into her tear streaked face.

“Could you ever forgive me angel? Please, I’m begging you. Let’s start over huh? Do this right.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The look of pure remorse and adoration that he was giving her was all she could ever ask for.

“Of course Yoongi.” She nodded emphatically, launching herself into his arms once more. “Of course I can forgive you. I...I love you too Yoongi.”

Their lips met, soft and desperate and perhaps a tiny bit awkward as teeth clashed and tongues fought to find their rhythm. But slowly they calmed, finding a balance in the rush of love that flowed through them as they inhaled each other. Breaking apart they grinned at each other, one lost and finally found and the other saved and saved again as they met once more in a passionate kiss that filled each of them with a sense that yes, they could finally be happy in each other’s arms.

As her tiny forget me not earrings flashed in the light of the waiting room they knew they were finally home.

#castle bangtan #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts min yoongi #bangtan suga #suga amnesia #yoongi amnesia #yoongi amnesia au #yoongi imagine #bts imagine #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #bts x reader insert #yoongi x reader insert #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #my writing

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justsomeoneunordinary · 5 years ago

Text

Le cirque des mirages

T, 3.7k, IronHawk, Fluff & Angst, Underage Drinking, Druge Use, Implied Child Abuse & Self-Harm, H/C - it’s all not that intense, there’s fluff too | AO3

―

The first time Tony fell in love he was eight years old.

His father was abroad for a week on a business trip and his mother and Jarvis took the opportunity to watch with him a circus performance. From the very second the director entered the arena Tony was completely entranced.

With awe in his eyes he watched the trainer tame a real lion, which almost took his breath away throughout the whole show. The horse spectacle put a smile on his face bright enough to reach from one ear to the other. Even the clowns made him laugh, although it took him only seconds to see through their tricks.

But his personal highlight were the acrobats; Those men and women bending the laws of physics according to their own visions through sheer muscle strength and concentration with grace and beauty. How they performed stunts in breathtaking elegance and finesse Tony never even could have dreamed of.

Throughout the whole show his mother failed to make him sit still ― because Tony, Tony felt like he was flying.

Even months later, his eyes still reflected the sparkle of the cheery-colorful costumes. He told everyone who wanted to hear ― and those who didn’t ― about his mathematical calculations, which he puzzled over for days. At what angle someone had to hold their pose in order to balance on a rope in the middle of the air, despite the high air resistance. How much strength it needed in the arms to swing from ring to ring without falling on the floor with a loud thump. Or how strong one had to push their legs so that another person could position themselves onto the feet.

Years passed and Tony never wished for anything other than watching a circus performance for his birthday. In every second that he didn’t convulsively try making his father proud, he dreamed of big tents, the interior filled with multicolored lights, and the feeling of warmth in his chest.

His illusions stopped all of a sudden when he was fourteen years old and his much older classmates all thought of him as boring. Instead, he began to devote himself to the art of seduction and became friendly with the taste of whiskey on his tongue.

But buried deep inside, the circus always remained his personal sanctuary.

―

The second time Tony fell in love he was seventeen years old.

Dead drunk and with no memory of the last three hours, he found himself right in front of a circus tent, the loud shouts from the inside announcing the beginning of a show. He didn’t know how his feet carried him to somewhere in the middle of nowhere, but instead of ordering a cab back to the MIT campus, he bought a ticket and before he knew it, he was in the middle of that turmoil that only tormented his drunken head even more.

Though the majority of the performance flew past him in a shimmer of colors and roars, he grasped enough to see that this was not a conventional circus. The acrobats sometimes lacked some limbs, knife throwers threw at each other and not at targets, fire-eaters jumped simultaneously on trampolines, clowns juggled with swords… if Tony hadn’t been so sure that he hadn’t touched a single joint that day, he would have been convinced he was high.

Just when he thought the performance was over and he was ready to go back―

“And now a big round of applause for the star of our show, The World’s Greatest Marksman! Or as you know him: Hawkeye!”

―the wind was taken out of his sails.

A boy, not possibly older than fifteen, entered the arena in a purple suit, bow in one hand and arrow case in the other over his shoulder swinging. His blond hair looked like he had just gotten out of bed, a scar ran across his right cheek and a devil-may-care grin graced his lips.

Tony was immediately captivated in its spell. As if hypnotized, he watched this boy shoot his arrows at the moving targets in a matter of seconds without looking at them once, and each time hitting bull’s eye. Watched the muscles of the upper arms illuminated by the spotlight move as the bow was pulled. Watched him roll in midair as he was light as a feather.

Tony couldn’t help but return the next day. And the day after that. And as often as possible until more than a month had passed and his fascination with Hawkeye still didn’t find an end at all. He no longer even looked the other attractions anymore, but only had eyes for the mysterious and mesmerizing archer.

Then, the circus did what all circuses do ― they moved.

And Tony followed.

But Tony was first and foremost an MIT student, and there was only so much he could do. If he hadn’t been a billionaire’s son with unlimited access to his fortune since hacking into Howard’s bank account years ago, he would never have been able to follow them across the states whenever he had a day off.

Before he knew it, two years had passed and Tony had graduated from the university with two doctorates. The circus had once again temporarily taken root in New York, where he also planned to complete his third doctorate.

Since his third visit, he could’ve sworn that Hawkeye winked at him at the end of each of his shows ― this assumption was confirmed when, once again, he was the last one left in the tent, sweetly dazed from the marijuana mixed with the bitter taste of the whiskey, before carefully stumbling outside.

“Y’know,” greeted him a chirpy-cheerful voice to his left, “they call me Hawkeye because I observe a lot and see things better from a distance. Not just see, but see, know what I mean?”

“Ah, and here I thought it’s because you’ve got a bat’s sense of hearing,” Tony couldn’t help but say. At least this earned him an amused snort.

“Nah, ‘m hard of hearing and if I weren’t so good at lip reading, I wouldn’t have understood a word of what you just babbled,” came the witty answer Tony admittedly hadn’t expected. “I must’ve left quite an impression that you watch my shows regularly over two years, huh?”

Oh, haughty. Tony liked that a lot. “Who says I’m here for you? Maybe I’m just here because of the incredible Swordsman, ever thought about that, huh?”

Another snort. “Two words: Hawk. Eye.”

Technically, this was still just one word, but okay, he won that round, Tony didn’t know how to counter that.

Then, with a jerk, he pushed himself off the pole he had been leaning against and came so close to Tony that they breathed the same air. “Name’s Clint,” he introduced himself with a mischievous grin on his face.

Which Tony already knew. Clinton Barton, seventeen, joined together with his older brother Barney the circus when he was only nine years old. Tony did not stalk him; those are the only information he had dug up ― he just really had wanted to know who that amazing archer was.

“Tony Carbonell”, he said, like the professional liar that he was, and grinned right back.

Clint nodded once, licked his lips and asked uninhibited, “Wanna fuck?”

Hell yes, he almost shouted, if… if he hadn’t seen something in Clint’s sky-blue eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. A mixture of insecurity, fear and caution ― once bitten, twice shy, he thought. Tony understood that there depended more from his answer than just its semblance.

“Thanks, but not today. Perhaps some other time, if the offer still stands then.”

As if on command, Clint’s whole posture visibly relaxed, as if an invisible weight had fallen from his shoulders. Jackpot.

“Do you want to share a joint with me instead?” Tony seamlessly changed the subject, like he had learned from child on as the center of the media to let a conversation dance according to his pipe.

Clint shrugged. “Sure, why not?” Which is how minutes later Tony learned that Clint had never smoked a joint before. He also learned that Clint was a terrific storyteller. In particular, however, he learned that Clint’s laugh could even lighten a cathedral.

In less than two hours, the two of them became best friends. And less than three weeks of those regular meetings, they became lovers.

When one night under the starry sky Clint kissed him on the mouth without even a warning ― in the middle of the sentence ― it was as if the world had stood still. Chaotic and moisty and interrupted by their drunken laughter, it was the worst and best kiss of his life.

Two days later, Tony rented a shabby little flat in Manhattan that was about to collapse. Strictly speaking, he bought the whole building, but he twisted the truth there a little bit. That was the only way how he could bring Clint home without Howard knowing about it and without Clint getting wind of his wealth.

“I like your place. Nice view,” mocked Clint. After that there was not much left to say, because Tony wanted to inaugurate this apartment. Years ago, Tony had already lost all interest in virgins, but Clint’s inexperience was a delight that surprised even him. Every single touch left his skin tingling and made his heart flutter in an irregular rhythm. Clint tasted like honey and smoke, like nutmeg and vodka, like strawberries and chili ― he tasted like love.

Even in the dim light of the apartment, Tony took every opportunity to trace the contours of Clint’s muscles crafted by his archery training, and to memorize Clint’s facial expression forever at his climax. Not even Michelangelo could have captured the subtleties of such beauty.

Being in a relationship with Clint was nothing Tony had ever experienced before. But not everything thereof was positive. There were hardly any days when Clint wasn’t covered in bandages and plasters or grazes. Most of them Tony knew that they were the result of Clint’s clumsiness, who stumbled over his own feet even on flat ground and then broke his nose masterfully. But some of them were too deep, too clean, too precise. Tony knew what it looked like trying to make a wound look like an accident.

Once, Tony didn’t have enough whiskey left, so he brushed his teeth with gin and tonic. When he tried to kiss Clint afterwards, he was pushed so strongly that his butt landed on the floor. Clint threw up in the toilet and collapsed there, trembling and bathing in sweat.

Howard may have been an absent father who never showed a shred of interest in Tony, but at least he’d never raised his hand against his own family. Tony swore to never even look from the canthus at a gin again.

Ultimately, however, the shady sides were covered by the sunny ones. Because that was how it felt like to be with Clint ― like a warm sunny day, the rays of which finding their way into his deepest parts.

After the circus moved again, Tony continued to visit as often as he could. They then spent the nights in Clint’s bed, where Barney could catch them at any moment. It was absolutely worth the risk. And Tony didn’t have the slightest clue how, but Clint managed to convince the circus director to stay in New York more often and longer. For completely selfless reasons, he claimed.

Often it was impossible for Tony to hide his true intellect, simply because he didn’t want to. Only two months into their relationship, he learned to use ASL fluently. If Clint had had more TV access or at least a little interest in magazines, he would have quickly known who Tony really was.

“You are really good with those computers, aren’t you?”

An understatement for Tony, especially considering that Clint had already met DUM-E. But he just hummed simply while he continued to work on his next AI and enjoyed Clint’s feather-light kisses on his neck.

“Can you also hack and stuff?”

Here he had to laugh softly. “Three years ago, Rhodey bet with me that I could never ever hack the Pentagon. Guess who won.”

“Cool.” There was a grin on the back of his neck Tony could literally feel.

Which was the only explanation for how it happened that Tony hacked into NASA’s server an hour later and, while he was already there, corrected a few of their mathematical equations. It wasn’t even in the top ten of the most dangerous things he had done with Clint. Their relationship might’ve been a lot of things, but sure as hell never boring.

Two years later Howard was driving drunk, killing not only himself but also Tony’s mother. From then on, everything went down the drain.

Tony almost drank himself into nirvana and when he suddenly woke up in the bed of his apartment with a pounding headache, he found Clint snuggled up next to him. Tears adorned his eyes, which were darker than usual and reminded him of blueberries ― Tony’s new favorite fruit, as he decided at exact that moment.

Clint said nothing, he didn’t need to. In the end, Howard Stark and Harold Barton were more alike than Tony had first thought. He tried not to think about having no excuse anymore to take over his legacy and that Uncle Obie would soon find him. Instead, he hugged Clint closely and placed a tender kiss on his temple while he could still do so. The steady heartbeat of Clint’s and his hand stroking trough his hair was the only reason he stayed sane.

Love, Tony thought, must be the power of the gods.

Twelve days later, he received a call from the hospital where Clint was taken to the ER. He had had to be resuscitated during the operation and was now lying unconscious in bed tied up on various machines.

It was only after 37 hours that he finally woke up.

Jacques, the Swordsman, had stolen money from the circus and when Clint tried to tell the director, he was downright beaten to death. Barney had just turned his head and left him on the floor. Tony didn’t show his anger even for a second while those incidents were being recited. He waited for Clint to fall asleep again and then contacted his lawyers ― after hitting the wall with his fist until it was red with blood as the rage boiling through his veins like hot lava.

Tony accepted that it was probably time to tell Clint about the things he had been hiding. It wasn’t that he had deliberately wanted to lie for two years, he was only afraid that Clint would turn away from him as soon as he knew who Tony really was. His pejorative attitude towards the rich clearly spoke for it.

But Tony had the means to help Clint, so he would take the risk. He decided to address this as soon as they were home. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in the hospital.

“Yesterday,” Clint began to say out of the blue on the fourth day of his hospital stay, “one of those suit wearers came to visit me. Coulson or something’s his name. Miracle he could sit down with the giant stick in the ass.”

He interrupted himself because of a fit of giggling. The painkillers had a strong effect on Clint. “Anyway,” he continued after a few minutes, “he offered me a job. Said they could use someone with my particular skillset.”

After a long break Tony asked, “And?”

“And… I think I want to take a look at that offer.”

Tony scratched his chin where he had started to grow a goatee. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information. It sounded to him as if he’d never see Clint again, as irrational as the thought was.

“Will you… will you come back?” he just had to ask, while carefully taking Clint’s hand in his and slowly following the early rough lines crafted from archery. He would never tire of the feeling of Clint’s hand in his.

This earned him a smile, so bright that his eyes shone even more beautiful than the stars in the sky. “Of course. I will always come back to you, Tony.”

But in the end, their relationship had been nothing more than a circus of illusions. A world where Tony could just be himself. Not Tony Stark, child prodigy, son of the so-called ‘Icon of America’s Strength’, heir to a multibillion-dollar company ― just Tony. A world in which he was loved not for his money or fame, but for his heart.

A world in which Clint wasn’t the victim of child abuse. In which he wasn’t betrayed by his only brother and left behind to die. In which he didn’t hurt himself just to see if he could still feel. In which he hadn’t run away from anything all his life and wouldn’t do it again. Simply a world in which he was happy.

Because that was where they both gave in to the illusion. They had been so busy with being happy that they both forgot one important thing: Life always caught up with you.

Twenty years and almost the end of the world had to pass for their paths to finally cross again.

―

The third time Tony fell in love he was forty-two years old.

Rubble and ashes had made themselves comfortable in his new home. A huge crater graced the floor of his living room and the Avengers stood awkwardly in the middle, as if ordered and not picked up.

This was the first time the circus had found him, instead of the other way around.

Clint leaned against the back of the sofa and was inspecting his bow. His face was decorated with shiners and blood, though this time Tony at least knew where they came from. His posture screamed nonchalance, but his frown whispered unease.

Without thinking about it, he stood next to him, their shoulders almost touching, and continued to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t have stayed away ― Clint has always had a magnetic attraction on him.

“So, you’d come back, huh?”

Clint didn’t seem fazed at all. But the days Tony was able to read him like an open book were over a long time ago. He wondered if Clint even realized that he built the Stark Tower on exact the same spot their apartment used to be, before he had the building torn down.

“So, Tony Carbonell, huh?” came the snarky reply.

Okay, fair enough. “My mother’s maiden name was Carbonell, so I didn’t lie technically.”

“Well, I came back now, so technically I didn’t lie either.” And then Clint had the utter gall to grin at him. Tony almost punched him.

He thought of all those days he had been waiting in the apartment for Clint to return. Thought of all those hours he stared at the telephone in case of a call. Thought of all those times he anxiously went to hospitals and police stations, hoping to find Clint somewhere there.

After six months of unsuccessful searching, he had resigned himself to the fact that Clint no longer wanted him. That he had found out who Tony really was and that he’d just left him to twist in the wind.

Whiskey had found its way through his blood system more than ever. Cocaine had blurred his reality until he ended up in the ER which is why he stopped with it immediately. Men and women had warmed his bed, imitating what he and Clint had had. His nights have never been the same again.

Even after Tony moved to California ― trying to chase the sun’s rays, which Clint had always made shine for him ― he never quit their apartment lease. Just in case. Instead, he installed a camera there that J.A.R.V.I.S. could access. Just in case. Throughout all those years, he had looked at the death notices every day with trembling nostrils. Just in case.

It suddenly dawned on Tony why the alarm bells always rang when he saw Coulson. The new job. Special Agent Clint Barton ― codename: Hawkeye. From the circus’ star attraction to a high ranked spy. Now an Avenger. Tony had always known that Clint’s life had been nowhere near normal ever.

He took a deep breath before turning his gaze back to Clint. Tony chose his next words very carefully. “In the past twenty years I’ve done some stupid things that I can’t even begin to list. Many of them were created under the influence of alcohol,” here he looked him straight in the eye without a hint of hesitation, “but not once have I even touched a gin again.”

When Clint finally dropped his mask ― his own illusion of indifference ― Tony was able to pinpoint it the exact moment it happened. His light blue eyes, previously disinterested and dull, shone in a new light, encased by insecurity and adoration, shame and mischief, pleading for forgiveness and radiating warmth all at the same time. A mess of feelings, each of which Tony was allowed to identify and classify.

“I like your new place. Nice view,” Clint just replied. The meaning of his words made his heart skip a beat. Warmth filled him from within that Tony couldn’t help but give him a shy smile, full of trust and hope.

When suddenly Clint put his arm around Tony’s shoulders, it was as if they were both just two stupid teenagers again, bathing in each other’s attention and the weight on their shoulders not yet so heavy that it dragged them down. The bare spot on his neck, which wasn’t covered by the Iron Man armor, tingled with the touch. Blood roared in his ears and a wave of emotions hit him so hard it almost took his breath away.

Tony threatened to lose the ground under his feet. In order not to panic and kiss Clint directly on the mouth here and now, he blurted out the only thing he could do to deliberately hide the upcoming tears in his eyes: “So, shawarma?”

Clint’s loud laugh echoed through the room like a bird’s song in a cave.

And Tony fell in love again.

#may writes #ironhawk #clintony #hawkiron #tony stark #clint barton

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uraharasandals · 4 years ago

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Loneliness / Hunger Games AU

Another Hunger Games au that no one asked for! I was tired of reading the books on my reading list so I tried something...more relaxing and got into the amazing world-building again. With that cheery thought, let’s have some more behind the scenes!

Title: Loneliness

Word count: 2325

Dazai, Mori (other side relationships)

Character study

Weak. Fragile. Worthless. That was what Dazai have been hearing his whole life, growing up around the other kids in District 2. The other kids were all sturdily built, each of them made up of pure courage, bravery, grim determination and muscle. The other kids could run ten miles without sweating, and still scale the training wall with ease. The other kids could handle basically every weapon without fumbling or letting the sword fall out of their hands.

Dazai could do none of these things.

He stopped caring early on, however, mainly because he had other things to worry about. For one, the other children at the orphanage he was at. The staff there told him that his parents were dead, which was why he ended up there. Somehow, his version of the truth was never sugarcoated. He thinks the staff there understood that he could bear the truth, and the truth was given to him. More like shoved; he didn’t have a choice to accept or not.

At any rate, because of his skinny frame that couldn’t be filled out no matter how hard he tried, Dazai was small, even for his age. Which resulted in a boatload of bullying from the older kids, kids his same age, even younger kids, because at the orphanage there never seemed to be enough, despite it being District 2.

District 2. They were taught that it was one of the Capitol’s favourites, and one of the most-fed. It was also the district of peacekeepers, the white-uniformed blank-faced guards that stood at virtually every corner he could see. Everyone aspired to be like them. Not Dazai.

Everyone also aspired to be a victor in the Hunger Games, and everyone who was someone (which was basically everyone except Dazai) signed up for training. Dazai didn’t bother to, not only because he had no interest in the Games entirely, but also he knew that the moment his name was called, someone more brutal, more bloodthirsty than him would take his place. No one in their right mind would let him go to the Hunger Games.

That is, no one in their right mind until he was eight. For some reason, that was when he got tired of being kicked around and bullied. Dazai soon found that he had a way with words. With manipulating others, and talking his way into anything and everything. His brain became sharper, and it was as if the world’s opportunities opened themselves to him. He was still scrawny and thin, but for once, he stood with confidence.

The constant manipulation came with a pleasant surprise, too. Rumours spread and soon people started steering clear of him. That was perfectly fine with Dazai; he wanted no company and didn’t bother with any. The staff let him keep the pet snake that somehow followed his commands, and thus he lived peacefully like that. (People called him ‘The Devil’s Child, but what did it matter? He even liked the ring of it)

Fourteen. Two years into the Hunger Games circuit and he started to get bored of just manipulating ordinary people. Dazai started stealing things. Well, not stealing per se, but talking people into giving him things. Mostly women, because he had seen in the mirror that he had a distinct sort of charm. Not conventional, but still charming. With his stature, he could even play the part of a pitiful child. So he talked the rich into giving him things. A jewel here, a ring there. Not much. Mostly he got bored with it and pawned it off, throwing in an excuse to avoid suspicion. He never got into trouble with anyone or anything either, and was beginning to think into making this into a living when he was approached one day.

Where did you learn to manipulate people like that? At first, Mori was just a friendly face. Dazai even bought into his lies, and started manipulating him. He quickly realised the man was more than that though, and somehow Mori was interested in taking him under as a disciple. What he did for a living, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was Mori socialising with important people and doing important things. Dazai also soon realised the gravity of what he was negotiating on a daily basis; the stakes were higher, meaning that more charm was laid on thick. He started to burrow deeper into the job, deeper into the underground network, and deeper into the lies. He also started enjoying it more, because when these people started losing, they fall deeper.

Dazai soon learnt a word for this; ‘sadistic’.

At any rate, it soon vanished into reality when his name was called at the Hunger Games drawing when he was seventeen. Seventeen. Just one more year and it would all be over. But no. Just when he turned seventeen, he had to be carted off to the Capitol and fight to the death for the entertainment of other people. The mere thought of it made him boiling with anger, for the first time in his life.

He held out as long as he could though, until he realised no one would volunteer for him. Dazai, the person who long ago already graduated from being ‘The Devil’s Child’ to probably personifying the devil himself. Dazai, having lurked in the underground connections so long even the light could not purify him. Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. Everyone in the seventeens crowd probably wished him dead from their loathing and their disgust, and he honestly wasn’t surprised. Another name was drawn and a lovely girl with two braids, though obviously one of the best trained of Two’s, hopped onto the stage and the crowd cheered. Dazai shook her hand and could only think of ways to corrupt her as he stared into her eyes.

They were soon on the train and lo and behold, Mori appeared, along with an unrecognizable woman. Dazai gave him a wan smile, which was mistaken for what passed for friendliness for him by the other two and their escort. He knew that Mori knew better though. After all, he was the only one present who knew his underground personality.

The days before the Games then flash by in a blur. Time with his prep time. Dazai was already naturally handsome and one of the assistants, a woman with blond curls dangling above the floor, poked his cheek good-naturedly and commented on his looks. His stylist gushed over how lucky he was to have a camera ready tribute on his hands, and he handled the fabric draping and costume testing with ease.

Mealtimes. Dazai was a natural speaker and commented, gushed, questioned and reacted with appropriate timing and impeccable style. He won over their escort, the female mentor, and even, he suspected, his fellow tribute. The girls were trained for direct confrontation, strength, battle. They weren’t equipped to handle such flattery or the male attention. Dazai had the girl falling at his feet in no time.

He also had the Capitol audience falling at his feet in no time, too. During his time with Caesar Flickerman, he played off his image as a charming young man who was shunned because of his naturally slim frame and background. Sympathy rose from the crowd, and he could see the rich women dabbing at their eyes with lace. Dazai managed to slip in a puppy look here and there, and he could practically see the sponsors lining up, just for him.

The only problem was his strength, as always. At Mori’s instruction, he tried out every weapon at the Centre, and found out he apparently excelled at throwing and aiming things. A side glance found his fellow Careers showing off around the other malnourished tributes, and he secretly added in some hunting skills, as well as trapping skills. A show of throwing knives got him a decent eight in the Gamemakers’ eyes; he suspected some of it came from his interview.

And of course, he was laying down the charm thick as usual. Dazai befriended everyone and accessed them, before accepting only one tribute for an ally - a tall eighteen year old called Oda Sakunosuke from District Four, who luckily was also part of the Career Gang. Thank god. Otherwise he would arose suspicion.

All too soon he had to take part in the Games. The morning of the Games Dazai felt anxiety clutch at his chest, and nearly lost his confident demeanor in front of the hovercraft personnel. He reminded himself that Mori had won through his wits, and not his strength, though doubt clouded his mind and would have continued if not for the note slipped to him via his stylist. At that, his lips curled up. As always, Mori thought of everything.

Killing turned out to be surprisingly easy. As long as you dismiss the fact that you were slaughtering live humans it came so much easier. And besides, Dazai was rear guard. He didn’t have to do much except take down the enemy from a distance, and it was easy as long as his opponent didn’t have a long-distance weapon at hand.

It soon became clear to the rest of the gang that Dazai had brains, and for some incredibly foolish reason they trusted him enough to come up with strategies for gameplay, not thinking that he might even betray them. Once again, his scrawny frame and charm became his assets.

Soon his allies started dropping dead, but subtly. He made sure they die when they were out hunting in small groups. Having assessed his fellow tributes, he knew which one of them were strong enough, and turned his allies on them. The battleground thinned quickly.

One element he hadn’t counted on affecting him, however, was Oda Sakunosuke. Initially he deemed him the only trustworthy one in the arena, but the more they spent time together the more he found himself dreading losing him. Dazai wasn’t sure what to do with this knowledge. He hadn’t exactly promised to win, but he was desperate enough to live (or at least die by his own methods) that he managed to keep himself alive. Should he allow Oda Sakunosuke to live instead of him?

The answer came on the fourth day, and it forced his hand. Having let his guard down, he hadn’t realised the arrow until it was too late. Flicking a knife at the direction and successfully hearing the cannon, he immediately rushed back to Oda’s side, blaming himself for not learning healing before, but it was no good. Well, at least he didn’t die by his hand. Dazai found himself, for the first time, ashamed of his thoughts and constant self-preservation.

Something else began to set in after Oda’s death too, a feeling he wasn’t familiar with until he realised, on the sixth day, what it was after killing another tribute. Loneliness. Desire for company, which was strange, because he had always been a loner. Staring down at the braids in the pool of blood, he silently, for the first time, bid his fellow tribute goodbye.

Twenty-two down, one to go. At this point, the audience was surely at the edge of their seats. Dazai hadn’t thought of the audience since day one and the melancholy after Oda died made him neglect nearly everything else except basic needs, but afterwards he realised the reward he got for charming the audience. A new set of knives after he pinned the Six tribute to a tree resembling crucifixion. Medicine for the mild burns over his hands after tricking a tribute into eating nightlock. Really, his list was endless.

His last tribute died unexpectedly though, and frankly, somewhat disappointingly. Dazai had perched himself on the Cornucopia as an easy target (and close to the lake too, for insurance) and he watched as the wild dogs chased the burly One male tribute down, before they leaped on top of him. The sounds stuck to him ever since, and Dazai thought honestly that no amount of time would erase the trauma.

The trumpet blew, he was patched up with no more burn scars on his hands, and soon he was waxing poetic about Mori and how much he owed him and all of that bullshit in front of a live audience, but not before holding in tears watching Oda Sakunosuke’s death replayed on a screen in front of him.

The part about Mori was true, in a way he did owe him. After experiencing the Games himself though, he started doubting whether the man was entirely sane with his methods, and began steering clear of him, though still being in the same industry. Dazai had navigated those waters before, and he continued doing so with ease, thinking he could continue with that lifestyle.

Before realising it was futile, of course. Despite his continuous charm and lies, there was a gnawing at his chest that was confirmed when one of the girls told him there was no heart left behind his words. But what else could he do? No companion would accept him, besides his fellow victors, and most of them were too old anyways (not that he minded sleeping with someone older but for a friend, perhaps the same age was a good start. At least, that was what he heard), or too wary of him. Apparently, even the gossip spread fast in the Victor’s Circle.

That was, until the mess of a Seven tribute was deposited into the Victor’s Circle during his first year of mentoring. The moment Dazai saw his bright orange curls, he knew Nakahara Chuuya would be worth the trouble.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai #bsd dazai #Dazai Osamu #HUNGER GAMES AU #mori #Mori Ougai #bsd mori #relationship study #Character Study #what is this ending

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dear-selena · 5 years ago

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All I See (Peter Parker x Soulmate! Reader): Chapter 3

Peter x Reader Soulmate!AU

Summary: You live in a world where women start to gain color when they meet their soulmate, but they cannot see all the colors at once until they’ve united with them. Peter Parker is your soulmate, but he has no idea. You want to tell him about the colors you see, but are afraid to. Sometimes, girls can be malicious with the soulmate troupe, and you don’t want Peter to think you’re doing the same. So you keep quiet, and experience one color at a time.

It isn’t until Liz Allan comes in the picture that all you see is green, and you hate it.

Warnings: Subtle mentions of blood and TONS OF ANGST

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m really happy to see the positive feedback so far. I really want to thank everyone for reading this lil ol’ fanfic of mine. I’ve really been enjoying writing again, so I’m hoping to keep this up before I go back to school. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future updates!

Chapter Three: Past Colors

Words: 2116

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“Ah, shit!”

Peter hissed, biting his tongue in order not to yell and alert your parents of his presence. He had just come to your home, in the middle of the night, with a large open scrape across his right bicep. He had a pretty rough fight with some people trying to break into an apartment complex, and although he managed to stop them, he still came out of the fight with cuts and bruises. When he found himself in really bad shape, he’d web sling right to you for help.

The two of you currently sat on your bed, the top of his Spider-Man suit off to give you easier access to his injuries. You wipe the outside of his wound with soap and warm water, purple colors making his cut look darker than it probably was. Before you could wrap his arm in gauze and stop any further bleeding, you wanted clean his wound.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” you mumble quietly as you try to continue cleaning the scrape. You wanted to stop after he hissed, as you hated the idea of hurting him. But you knew you needed to help patch up your soulmate. Despite your purple vision and your anxious heartbeat, you wanted to make sure Peter was okay.

After a couple minutes, his wound looked to be in a good place for you to cover it. Taking the gauze you always kept around for him, you securely wrap his bicep until you could not see any form of injury. You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t realize you were holding as your vision turns turquoise. You successfully helped patch up your soulmate once again.

You helped make sure your soulmate was safe once again.

Peter slowly moved his right arm, testing to see if it was still functional. After a moment, you suddenly felt strong arms wrap around you. Peter was embracing you with one of his hands in your hair, one on your back, and his head tucked into your neck.

Your vision immediately turns pink at his actions. You feel yourself blush as you quickly returned the hug, wrapping your arms around his back and leaning into his bare chest. You’ve hugged Peter plenty of times before, but the thought of him holding you in such an exposed state made you internally melt.

“God (Y/N), what would I do without you?” Peter asks into your neck.

“Probably bleed to death in your home.”

Peter chuckled as he lifted himself off you, his hands moving to hold yours as he smiles at you. “Seriously though, you’re a miracle worker. I’m so glad I can actually rely on you for help,” Peter practically gushes.

The tone Peter had made you frown in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Peter blinked, realizing that you caught on to what he was saying. “O-oh, it’s nothing too crazy… it’s something really stupid that happened before I met you.”

You had an idea of what he was talking about, and if you’re being honest, you wanted to hear him talk about it. “You can talk about it with me, it’s okay Pete.”

Peter looks at you and slightly smiles, squeezing your hands a little tighter and rubbing his thumbs on your knuckles. “So, this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous, but last year I started seeing a girl who claimed I was her soulmate.”

You knew where he was going with this story, but you couldn’t help the green that embraced your vision.

“Her name was Gwen, and I thought she was really sweet,” Peter continued. “She used to tell me how she could only see pink around me and blue when I was gone. I honestly believed her, and I dated her for about four months. I honestly really liked her, and I was so happy to have met my soulmate. But I didn't realize until later on that she was dating 4 other guys at school. She was basically using us for different things. I assume she was using me to pass her classes. She was failing calculus when we started dating,” Peter puts his right hand in his face and sighs angrily. “I was just- I was just so caught up in the idea of finding my soulmate that I didn’t see any of the red flags. I was trying to find ways to spend more time with her and tell her I’m Spider-Man. But every time, she would blow me off for God knows what. It really hurt when I caught her cheating on me, and it broke me when she said she didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

Peter’s story left you in utter shock. You knew this happened, but you didn’t know to what depths. What this girl did to your soulmate was just so awful, and you can feel your blood boiling inside of you. Your vision slowly started to turn red, a color that relates to anger and frustration. You’ve only seen this color when Peter did something to really bothered you, but this time you knew you saw red because of what Gwen did to him. How could someone lie to so many guys about the soulmate troupe? How could someone like Peter?

How could someone use your soulmate?

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down before taking Peter’s hand again and bringing them closer to you in an attempt to comfort him. Peter looks up at you, eyes glistening with tears he was clearly fighting off. “Peter I’m so sorry she did that. Words cannot describe how angry it makes me to know people like her do this to others. The soulmate connection should be a special thing that comes naturally. She probably still sees in black and white for all we know.” You take another deep breath as the red calms back down to a pink. “I can assure you that no matter what, I’ll always be here for you, and I will never lie to you. I care about you too much.”

It’s true, you truly cared for Peter. Yes, these feelings came with the pleasure of being his soulmate, but despite that, he was a genuinely good guy. He cared about people and risked his life everyday for them. He took time out of his crazy schedule to see you, Ned, and MJ now that his responsibilities as a superhero are starting to play out better. He cares about his grades, future, and most importantly, his friends.

He was simply amazing, soulmate or not.

“Thanks (Y/N), that means so much,” Peter smiles at you. You pull him in for another hug and Peter tucks his head back into the crook of your neck. Absentmindedly, you start tracing random shapes on his back, fully engulfed in his embrace. Your vision dances in pink and yellow, as you feel multiple emotions inside of you. Eventually, your vision settles into a calm and beautiful pink that made your heart feel warm. Moments like this don’t happen often between the two of you. But when they do, you wished they lasted forever.

“Hey (Y/N)?” Peter mumbles into your neck. He pulls himself off of you to look at you better, much to your dismay. “Why haven’t you told your soulmate about you?”

You quickly look away from him. “Uh, uh- what?”

“You know how you mentioned you know your soulmate? Why haven’t you told them yet?”

You can feel a blush quickly cover your face, and you wish you could just explode on the spot. You never talk about your soulmate, much less to your soulmate himself. But this might be the segway to the conversation you ultimately need to have with him.

“Oh… uh… well…” You try to find the right words to say. “I don’t think my soulmate sees me in a romantic way. I want him to, you know, have feelings for me naturally. I don’t want him to think I’m burdening him or lying or anything like that.”

You glance at Peter to see him looking at you in disbelief. “(Y/N), c’mon. Don’t think like that. Your soulmate is going to love you!” He chuckles to himself. “Not gonna lie, when you told us at lunch that you can see colors a few weeks ago, I was pretty jealous.”

“Well that makes two of us,” you thought to yourself, remembering that his old crush moved back and you now mostly see green.

“I used to be so excited to meet my other half, and I hate the fact that there’s no way I’ll know who she is until she says something. I guess that’s why I believed Gwen at the time…” He looked down and shook his head, practically scolding himself. “But Aunt May and I always talk about how soulmates are ultimately destined to work out, so you should just be honest to whoever it is!”

Your heart starts accelerating at his words of encouragement, but before you can say anything to him, he continues.

“Just take me and Liz for example. Sure, she hasn’t mentioned any soulmate stuff to me yet, but I think Liz moving back must be some sort of sign. I never thought I’d see her again, but the soulmate thing has to be why the universe brought her back.”

Your eyes went wide as you felt your heart completely drop to your stomach. Was he really falling for Liz again? The pink instantly changed to green and you felt your fists clench and teeth grit. Constantly hearing about Liz made you want to burst, but you knew that would get you know. It just frustrates you to no end that after all the times you’ve spent together, Peter was falling for another girl.

You suddenly realize that you should have told Peter about your colors a long time ago. You should have told him that he was your soulmate the moment you felt comfortable around him. You’ve avoided it for so long out of fear, but he was right. It’s time to be honest to Peter. The more you wait to tell him the more he thought he belonged to someone else.

You’re tired of holding this information in. You’re ready to tell Peter.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, ready to reveal yourself to your soulmate once and for all. Ready to explain why you held back and silently pray to God that he would understand. You open your eyes to see Peter staring at you curiously.

You were ready to see all the colors at once. You were ready to tell him the truth he’s so long deserved to know.

“Peter, I-“

Peter’s phone suddenly rings, blasting his ring tone throughout your room. Both you and Peter jump apart at the sudden noise. Peter quickly rummages around until he frantically picks up his phone off your night stand.

“Hello?... Aunt May what are you still doing up?... I’m sorry there was this really bad fight and (Y/N) was helping me-... I’m sorry… yes… yes I’ll come home now. I’m sorry,” Peter quickly hangs up the phone and slides the upper part of his suit back on his body.

“I’m really sorry (Y/N), Aunt May noticed I was gone and she’s really worried right now,” Peter got up and found his mask, slipping it back on his head. “Thank you again for your help, I’ll see you Monday?”

You nod your head, mentally cursing Aunt May for the interruption. “Yes, get home safe.”

After a quick hug and him telling you to get some sleep, Peter was out your window, web-slinging through the streets of Queens once again. You clean up the mess you made while performing first-aid on Peter, and tuck yourself into bed.

Right when Peter left, your vision instantly turned red again. You were frustrated, as you just lost your perfect opportunity to reveal yourself to your soulmate. Finding another perfect time to tell him will practically be impossible now. Peter just opened up to you in a way he’s never done so before, and telling him that you’re his soulmate now might make him suspicious. You hate that this isn’t easy for you. You hated that you hadn’t told him earlier. But most of all, you hated that he didn’t see you the way you saw him.

As you tried to fall asleep that night, there were two things you knew you needed to do. One, you’d need to calm yourself down by Monday to put your thoughts cleanly together, and two…

You needed to find a way to tell Peter that he was your soulmate.

——————————

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bemybestoy · 4 years ago

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Genesis of me

Genesis: becoming me! Hello bitches and kink lovers,This blog shall be an open letter to guide and smooth out our relationship as I am sick and tired of how a dominatrix and a sub's role are misunderstood. Let me introduce myself, I am Krisztina, a pro domme, in my 30's and I am embracing this role for around 8 years. Meaning I am highly experienced and I tried it all, expect the practices that reach out my limit. Such as permanent damage, I would never put the life and health of a slave of mine in jeopardy not thru my instructions or even just widness(you cannot even imagine thru years how many times I was asked if we can perform a c2c castration precedure, stabbing with knifes or swords for any amount I can posibly think of asking. I repeate it was about c2c so not bulshit as I would watch all along). When I refused such life threatning session I was offered same only to watch, not to instruct. Answer is still NO everytime. BDSM is not abuse, it is not guided endangerment, it must be sane, sane, consensual and have very clear boundaries of safety. To rewind i started to explore this world in my early 20s ofc and suprise , suprise in real life. Even if i am mostly an online fetish chathost and online domme, I did not know such sections of BDSM exist in camming world, till after a few years i have done dominance in real life. Let me explain! So I had a mid managemnt job after my university in a multinational company, which was and still is top 3 globally in its field and shall always be. There is not even a child all across this world that does not know what company is about when hearing it's name (do not be cretin enough to ask me the name, I will tell NO to your face. Or ask you what info you wish next home adress, Id identification number, blood group or home keys along with an open window in case you do not manage to use the keys:)) ). So i was there around 1 years and half and had a long distance relationship with often travelling . We all know those never lastunless one of the two moves abroad. So I hapilly informed my family and work collegues I wish to move to a different country to move in with my bf/ soon to be fiancee. The question in everyone's head right now was you bf your was Ds relationship? the honest answer is hell no! my bf was alike me a real alpha, one of the strongest man psysical and mental both and definetly would not take attitude from no woman (not even the love of his life, unless he was dick and she was right. To understand you need to picture a man at height 1,95 cm and around 100 kilos all fibers and muscles as he had been a kickboxer and when i met him a trainer for kickboxers at European level. A true montain of a man who yet never felt his manhood threaten if he discussed his feeling with me, his desires, his sensibilities, things i would do or say to hurt his feeling even involuntary a I was busy all the time and moving fast etc). So not only that he was not the submissive type, but even if we were in harmony from time to time he would give me 'attitude'. Now even if I am pleased and happy, even if I amm not the nagging type, no matter who you are and how much I love you, if you cross me I will whoop your ass. After a fe episodes, as chasing him thru the apartment every room with the moop tail pointed a him to kick his ass until he ran out, threating to stab his hand with a fork when he tried to touch my steak after leavig him without one as he made clearly to me he was not a pussy to carry grocery bagsand hence to help and many as suchhe decided I should meet one of his best friend from high school, a lady leaving in a city close. He said we would get along perfectly and the lady and I would get along perfectly. Who would knew I was in for such a big suprise.....(cheshire cat as i recall and type). So I did not know much about her ad what she does for a living when we were instruduced. We had lovely conversation, then she invited me some day when i am off work to visit her house, met her husband also and spend some more lady time together(I was a manager in one of my bf business a gran coffee shop/ bar it was quite big and had 2 floors one was coffe shop and bar all white with blue lighting surrounding th wide bar and lower floor couches and tables and ring dance for party rentals such as festivity, anniversieries etc. I done so many things in there: not only i would cash in all the money that being my main, but i would help the other emplyees by making cocktails- I made a course for that- , even cleaning or washing glasses, once out there i was the only personal managing or website, of course PR as even t planning as I was the one who organised every detail of our rental and someone even DJ, a lower floor had DJ booth with pro equipment which i manage to completely fuck up as I had no idea what I was doing and the booked DJ announced last minute he was so coming so my bf said as i am the most modern and tech savvy to give a try to see if i can work it. not only I was not able , but i fucked it up so bad we had to call a tehnician to fix it and he taught me basically how to use it on a minimal level to work it for the party which turned out great. Still cracks me out when i think of my face when i was sure i fucked it up lol. it was a dexter labority moment and his blonde sister deedee: i was like many if i press this and that i will fix it ) I was like well i cannot make it worse :))) Then I decided I need some female eergy without the 'guys' going everyday at my bf gym to do my box training, my krav maga and I gave a call to this lady ask her if I can indeed visit and when It is appropriate to come and suits her schedule.My employees and bf replacing me could manage a day without and i needed a getaway. She invited me in couple or days, my bf drove me to her house and then left to actually replace me. we had an amazing luncheon, laughed, make jokes, just getting to know each other mostly me and her, but also her husband. Then she informed me she had some work to do soon but i can wait with her husband. Unlike I want to come with her. I was like ok I want to come, ut i am not sure whether i disturb you and invite me just to be polite or if it is really ok. i mean i got the best manners you could witnes both on and out of my job. She said she would actually like to share what she does with me as she likes me and she is quite sure having such a strong and open personality would not make me freak out. I was within my mind ' what should i freak out about?!'. but still acted al casual as i liked her myslf, it only made me very curious. I have a feline personality so curiosity is in my nature, though it is pure and observatory, not the gossip, lame and weak as usual women are. So..... she said she will be busy with work for around 2 hours and if i wanted to stay aside as she cannot pay attention to me. i was like ok... She then invited me at the basement where she said she would met at her 'office' a person whom she expects, as her work space has direct access from garage. Then we would both go downstairs. Well probably telling all cluess made you suspect or realise it was a full dungeon downstairs. a pro dungeon.you should have seen my face when i noticedall the tools, device,suspension systems and the rest of the toys. She looked at me patient and confident, without a care in her mind that i might judge or something.... let me soak it all in... then she asked: You still want to stay or do you want to go upstairs with my husband to keep him company thru soccer game was on tv? " . She was so calm as if she shown me a bush of pants in her garder:)) Then my first outspoken reaction to her it was one of a morron: my first words after what i have seen, my first question asked was if her husband knew about all these(as they do not share a house for more then 10 years). She said yes, but he does not interfer with her work, comes down sometimes, but participates rare and very dismissive toward whom she works with. So I gotten more curious. I obviously suspected what will happen soon, but never withness something alike.Well I done so many sessions and you remember even if having a perfect memory the big lines of the majority. The first one I had only as a peeper I remember in smallest little details. Bitch parked and had a hoody on. he knoecked and when was invited, he went down on his knees down on all stairs. He looked like a maggot or miriapod with his head down to do not cascade over stairs as he was not standing. She then informed her she had a guest which will attend, but will not participate. Not giving a fuck of his reaction. I;ve seen chain suspection bondage, over all punishment and esp cbt along with huge strapon penetration. Shge is quite tall1.80 and she really was at perfect level as he bitch even if him hanging from the ceiling without touch the floor or be close to it even. i was amazed and intrigued. So as soon everything was done and he left ofc i asked so many questions. She answered all with patience even if i must have been annoying like a child and not take the time to put together the smarters questions. After i while I was blablabla in a hyper manner about what she does as a professional domina I was like wait! does my bf know about this? She smilled and said ofc. He sometimes rarely when visiting me participates even as a master helping mewith pain or bootlicking or stuff. He joins more then my husbnd who when bored and coming down to see when i finish at most lets his shoes licked by my slaves then goes upstairs. I found all these fascinaint and so alternative so ofc I wanted to see more.So often I would visit her as watch her sessions with her slaves. After several mouth a slave of hers made her after session a big financial tribute offer that i participate too and i can second her domining. She asked me if it is something I consider. I did want it, but felt like I would be clueless as per what to do. Even if you watch many times that does not mean you feel suddly like you can replicate that certainty in action. She said not to worry as bitch knows it is my first time and this and following her lead is exactly what it is excites him. So i mus not overthink, just try to have some fun. And damn! It was so much fun! the hormones, the excitment, the laughter from humiliation talk, the driven crazy look on the bitches' face, the overall experience. it was like wow! it is hard to paint it in words, with all lexicon richness or ability to play with words. it is pure extasy! :D:DAfter he felt she made sure he had a chit chat with a glass of wine, making sure i am good with all, she said how great i was as she does not like other lady dommes in general. What was the goodbye part when my bf arrved to pick me up in car she actually did give me my own tribute. how much money! like lots! Then she invited me often to participate in the session in which slave got excited about 2 lady dommes. I accepted that one per week as i was busy with my own line of work. I had so much fun more then a year. Seen lots, done lots.Then a night I was speaking to him in our bed, holding hands, after2-3 rounds of sex and many orgasms. My realtionships are very intimate and I always go for an open man, who is super smart so besides sex and comfy routine I would have a late night conversation till 4-5 am even if we had to bed up and work in couple hours. there is just something that it is most meaninful ina relationship, to communicate ina deep way and to enjoy it lots both of you. and get into each other soul, emotions and deepest needs.So I did ask him : what made you think she would like me and would like her? what made you believe i would enjoy all these as you know we do not do anything as such? He then said he met thru his life many type of women: brainy, prude, whores, dommes, swingerseven submissive lil fmale toys. And he said a true dominant is never made into one. Ofc you can be good if you copy and get exposured to it or at least satisfactory to a slave. But the best dominant are born, not made. It is in their nature and personalities. They give out clues all the time, no matter the random they do.It made me wonder lots. After a couple moment of silence with my head on his chest, lips against his neck and hand holded all thru our talk, just enjoying the thinking of each, the meaninful silence, i asked if he does not feel bothered about that facti enjoy myself playing with slaves when not only he do not do anything alike, but he is not playing with others either. I mean it is a vast emoions i fell which exclude him fully. he said ofc not, as our love life is something i need more then my alternative fun, thta he knows i can live without that experience, but i would be heartbroken if i was without us (you need to understand jealousy cannot be an issue here. Real pro dommes in dungeon do facesitting all dressed up thru latex or leather and it has got a suffocating breath control purpose. i will explain you why: first of all a n evelated domme cares about personal hygiene and she know there are many scat lovers visiting dommes. so to have one licking your pussy it is not quite sanitary. also ass worship is done thru leggings. the most expensive, best dommes will never allow a slave licking. that is just some vanilla crap made up buy hookers selling sex and bdsm aswell. a well respected professional odoes not indulge in that. I am not saing to use a slave for self sexual satisfaction makes you a bad, poorly skilled mistress. But you do that as a lifestyle domme.Meaning you have a domestic relatinship with your slave who is your life patner. Never in a pro dungeon relationship oral for a slave would be allowed or accepted). Drinking champagne straight from mistress soource yes, but without wiping after. You may have it fromshort distance her controlling her debit makeing her slave do not miss anything unless they agree before on a facial champagne game. But when you go to a pro domme you cannot expect her to enjoy licking pussy and ass. Not to mention licks or even nudity just because it arrouses you. so my bf knew my sex life involved only him, in vanilla terms we all know.And he was ok with my alternative fun. We were even if a modern couple a very faithful one. So our orgasms were only and strictly dedicated to one another, exclusively.He wasgreat in bed so i would have every single day more then ten orgams within couple of hours(we had wakeup sex, luch break sex and couple turns before bed, many squirty orgams, clit or vaginal without squirt). The most sexual gesture i seenin the pro domme who introduced me to this world is just around 3 times within one year to milk cock with latex gloves, but with ruin orgasm. she took hand of when she felt he would come load was shoot without touching he would lick after she pull gloved off and glove was washed after. More often she would make the bitch wank himself while she instructs him closeby. her husband accepted her line as he accepted and love everything about her, but he was like my ex fiancee: hear pussy, ass, breast, orgams, real sexual intimacy are for your pratner. Not for everyone. That is a hooker thing to do. To gave all that just just random everyones. One after the other.That is not what a real dmme is made off. Her strenght and charm comes out because he in full intimacy is hard to get if not impossible. And by all means a slave shoould be use till u reach full sexual satisfaction. But only for your chosen one or ones. I fyou are a lifestyle domme and have a slave as life partner or few slaves as toys as open relationship is ok. But you cannot expect same from a real pro domme! That is something builtand leveled up!PS Hmmm now to breath a lil as I poured everything so fast. deep inhales and exhales. light a cigg after and build this disclaimer. my spelling is awful as you know me i type like a motherfucker in full speed. Ignore all errors and consider the essence of my phrases. I do not believe in going back to spellcheck unless you publich a book or something editorial. I did that during university in an non paid internship, both as corrector and publisher. But it was a publication spread and shippd on a national evel. And in both roles i learned that the first message and thought till publishing as you go back several times are worlds apart. So much changes. And since I do not publish something wanting to be of intellectual value I wish a very spontaneous, fast writing. It is the most sincere, no filters and even if shifting thoughts without a bridge causing some lack of coherency now and then it is more powerful as the first reactions are. So yes a blog! why a blog? i do not do social media. it is lame, tacky and became brainless. i miss books or blogs at least. and i do not like at all media unless i do exposure over it from bitches craving for begging and tribute me for it. These reasons and that I cannot stand screens after 8-10 hours of online being available to sessions. I like to look in eyes of someone I talk to and they looking back at me. Instead of both or all dinner participants looking non stop at phone while we pretend to be together. Meanwhile no one is present as they focused on media and other stuffs over their phone .That is not only lame and un natural , but also impolite. Themost important ask from people around me is manners first of all. One lack of manners become my refusal to have this creature close to me even silent, simply unacceptable. In addition, if i must have my eyes after work on something i prefer a good movie or a book. Actual human contact is important to me as little as we have it nowadays with global situation. so NO, unless i will have video call activated which i will seldom have I do NOT exist until i am online the next day I feel the need to have people at my feet :) I am literary out of this world. I do not exist for anyone online. And enjoy it every minute !

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san-lorenzo-shop · 4 years ago

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There Is Power Utility Workers Union Of America In A Union T Shirt

THESE UFO DISCLOSURES WHICH ARE REALLY KIND OF BASIC IN THE WHOLE SCHEME OF THINGS UFO IS A There Is Power Utility Workers Union Of America In A Union T Shirt DISTRACTION IN MY OPINION FROM THE SECRET SPACE PROGRAM WHICH IS WHERE ALL THE INFORMATION IS IN BEING HELD BUT FOR THE TIME BEING WE WANTED TO REALLY REPORT ON THIS THE NEXT LARGE VIDEO WE HAVE IS A FEATURED VIDEO AS THE PENTAGON RELEASES HAD THREE LEAKED VIDEOS AND THIS IS THE MAKING IT ALMOST BASICALLY THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE NOW UFOS ARE REAL THEN THE OUT OF IDENTIFIED WHICH IS INSIDE AMERICA’S UFO INVESTIGATION FULL EPISODES SO IT’S REALLY LEAKING OUT FROM THE GOVERNMENT IS OUT OF THERE TO START THE BLUEBOOK PROGRAM AGAIN AND AGAIN TO REACTIVATE ALL THE STUFF AGAIN IS IT’S OLD NEWS IT’S LIKE FINE EVERYBODY. I agree to have a bad habit film the thing of the year is one quarter of the way done are you getting about thereand understand that they can do it by award season good luck to them I can see why they want to do itand I agree with you at all three of arms like if one said yeah then you may be one offer you like scheme for years now actually get it done I feel like the atticand get it done hopefully to get the crew to get it doneand I’m loving regardless of where you stand on any of him when that team comes together you got admit I made actingand directing wise this is going to be a film that may very well be up for an award I don’t know because I do hey I said that about silence when I first site on the over silencing is out to go down but I look forward to itand then that good luck. We listen to medical experts sleep with a lot of working autoworkers into little help from the lighthouse we executed our plan we saved thousands of just managing if we had a national strategy so everyone who a test For Free so Everyone Has Access to Searches and Educators Have the Resources They Need to Get Back to School with Joe Biden Harassment Lighthouse We Will Still Biden Harris Will Lead by Example Will Be Signing Not Politics or Ego Will Drive Their Decision Now with the Health of Our People Goes Hand In Hand with Strength of Our Economy May Now Action Begets Action over the past Few Months We Learn What Essential Rising to the Challenge Not to Leave Learned Who Is Essential to Just the Wealthiest among Us President Who Fights His Fellow Americans Rather Than Fight the Virus Killing in Our Economy It’s the People Who Put Their Own Health Risk to Care for the Rest of Us Day at MVPs and Nurses and Doctors Utility Workers Truck Drivers and Grocery Clerks Childcare Workers

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Who these people are coming from Syria that we element that the There Is Power Utility Workers Union Of America In A Union T Shirt we don’t know what the FBI and Homeland security said we can’t know for certain error on the side of the safety and security the American people Sen. Say that just as racist as not wanting a black woman trying to narrow it down to just a woman of color sorry but that’s racist you’re using her race to help advance your agenda to try to win votes add it amazing to me that he would even say yes it seems clear that she’s been quite phony and Kemal Harris called Joe by now call them racist during the Democratic primary for an apology that she never made it pretty clear that Kemal Harris will abandon her own morals as well as trying to bury her record as a prosecutor in order to appeal the anti police extremist controlling the Democratic. Work for using this mode but is still nice man is believable breaking power very strong set ofand build this breaks upfront radio mount monobloc calipers the standard hydraulic master cylinder even though these things are radial pump master cylinder like it would be a high performance sport bike breaking feel empowers very good got a member of 556 pound motorcycle this thing is not right wish we go through your guys but tight placement father 50 6 5 I thought of 3 pound motorcycle very heavy yet with this breaking components despite shed speed very well for a quickly this is a great thing about riding a motorcycle whether it be gasoline or electric is going right away through California where it’s legal to for years the notorious bumpy road right now feel the bumps through this one really like about this bike is how solid it feels it feels like to build from a block of aluminum the same time because the so happy we hit those bombs all that weight just jars upand down the suspension is a good job of controlling action but still there’s no denying the amount of inertia in this motorcycle when it hits bumps the shop mounts directly between the swingarmand the frame there’s no linkage would be interesting to know if Harley Davidson failure linkage on this bikeand how that would affect the ride quality but overall a bumpy road it’s not the best ride the worst thing about this bike is offer is adjustment preload adjustment spring preload on the fork on the shopand you banking adjustment rebound compression seeking to vamping characteristics this motorcycle we slow down the rebound of the bike of the fork in the shockand actually impressed with how much arrange be camping circuit this bike so we charge this motorcycle up overnight via the included 110 V three pronged household power adapter it plugs in right here with different reason plugs in right here you put the power cable underneath the seat is a little lot she on the seat you pulled that the city comes upand answer the cable stored is level I charging designed to be used in any household three pronged outlet charging the motorcycle via that medium 13 mph to get 13 miles range per hour of charge around hours 11 hours charge the battery from where level I system or similar suddenly feel a standard power that is right here we cover level charging along this motors so some of the other calls a charge of a support level III charge so level III charge was See Other related products: Father's Day Best Border Collie Dad Ever Vintage T Shirt

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fallen029 · 4 years ago

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I’ve been trying to get a part of OpB out a month, but this month I got swamped and just didn’t have time. I’m hoping I get it finished by this weekend, but it might not happen, so for the ones of you who follow me over here, I thought I’d post the first half (or quarter, really), for you to read over. This part involves a lot coming together all at once, so it’s just been a bit of a hassle to piece together.

I don’t usually post OpB shit over here and I’m not going to start, but if you see this and wanna follow the rest of it, it’s over on Fanfic and Archive. You don’t have to be all caught up or even read any of the rest of the Remember Me shit to understand it. It stands on it’s own, loosely in the Fairy Tail realm, focusing on the slave trade in Bosco. Nearly full OC, and kinda just me indulging my own shit a bit. It’s not for everyone, but I rather like it.

Operation Bosco: A Call to Arms, IV

it was always strange.

The feeling of it.

Waking up.

Since Haven had been revived following the mishap on the gauntlet, it was always a bit of a jolt, first thing, as her eyes peeked open and she was greeted to a new day. There were some difficulties in adjusting, right at the start, to the feeling. Her chest would get heavy and the breaths she drew in always seemed to burn, just a bit, as the scarring over her stomach itched.

For as bad as the nights were though, the mornings made it worth it.

She’d never really taken a break. Before. Had always been on, constantly. From the day her parents let her start snagging the fliers off the job board, she’d either spent her days completing them or training to be able to do so. Days were meant for toiling and nights were meant for getting fucked up in her father’s guildhall. Her mind was focused on very few things and everything felt simple. Easy. Broken down.

Get stronger and reward yourself along the way.

But when she was revived, things were different. She couldn’t take jobs right off the bat, she was too weak to train in the first few weeks, and her father no longer held a guildhall for her to act out in, with not too veiled hopes of gathering his attention.

Everything was different.

Locke had to go back out, on jobs, and even once she was up to training, she had no one but her boyfriend’s father or Ajax to do it with. Navi was gone, Locke now had friends, real friends that he wanted to spend time with, if he wasn’t out, and it was jarring.

All of it.

Her family was there, but she was trying to ease back into those relationships and they were dealing with their own trauma, what with her coming back to life and her father disappearing in the middle of the night.

She’d spend days, both with or without Locke, at a bit of a loss as to how to get back to where she was. Or, honestly, how to be sure she’d never return to it. There was a call for the long stretches of solitude and peaceful atmosphere she was rewarded with, but at the same time, it felt far more like a punishment.

She was a woman of action. Strong action. Constantly falling in and out of dangerous scenarios in order to prove her worth. Those few months of either taking no jobs or taking one and needing a be recovery period was hard on her.

Very hard.

“I never want to be like this again,” she told Locke, more than once, and he only snickered, smiling even, in the beginning when he was still just amazed to see her alive and breathing, with him once more. “Don’t nothing. Sitting around. Waiting.”

“It’ll be different in Bosco,” he assured her and it was still a dream to them then, not fully realized or understood, what it would mean.

What any of it would mean.

She spent months getting stronger and him proving himself to the guild master, just to find their power and prowess useless. He’d spent the majority of their time away on guard duty, back on base or across the border, while her true powers had been suppressed and her new, fancy one she was so pleased to wield had only come into play once.

And for what?

So she could find herself folding clothes in a sweatshop, hoping to win the approval of women that saw her as little more than a kid. A fucking, stupid kid whose current placement in life did more to depress them than, perhaps, their current surroundings. Reminded them of their first time. Times. In new places, adjusting to the new regulation and lack of freedom they were presented.

There was a resignation, back in Ewings, but it wasn’t buried nearly as deeply as it was the majority of the women she was currently housed with. The majority of them were too old, had been under too long, and she was made known of this the second she tried to broach the topic with any of them.

It was a headbanging kind of realization, the ones she had every single day and night, as she tried to assimilate herself with these women. She lacked the nerves or fears she had, on Ewing’s manor, but they were instead replaced with frustrating jitters of wanting to do something, to start something, but not quite being able.

She didn’t connect well with other people. She never had. But it was now a major part of the job and, though she wished that both Locke and Shae were able to carry the heavy load in this, she knew that her position in the hoped revolution was very important.

One of the things that she’d learned recently from the short months she’d spent back home actually came during that down time she hated. And from Marin, her lame younger sister, of all fucking people. Marin possessed the potential for all the power in the world, but balked in her formative years, and instead had to build other skills.

She wasn’t great at it either, after all. Connecting to other people. And maybe that was Haven’s fault, at least somewhat, but whatever it was, Marin found ways to overcome it. Where Haven thought to prove herself physically and violently, Marin managed her natural awkward disposition in another way.

With her natural abilities repressed, she found herself accessing social skills in other ways. She learned things about people, rather easily. She served them beers and fed them filling food until they felt comfortable enough to express things to her. Whether this was intentional or not, it allowed her to easily transverse any other personal relationships she was forced to have with others. They felt naturally inclined to consider her something. Not exactly a friend and maybe not a confidant, but at least someone that, even when sober and starving, they could count on to be there for them.

The best part of this arrangement was that Marin hardly had to offer anything difficult up to others; she merely had to provide the expected level of care. This wasn’t exactly an imparted benefit on Haven through word of mouth, but rather observation. She watched her mostly quiet and reserved sister in the guildhall many times following her resurrection, and it was a very alternate experience from how Marin was once treated around the place.

By doing her work, she found an avenue that otherwise wouldn’t be easily presented to her.

Haven wanted to be like that. With her job. To do her job and make friends along the way. It used to be that way, anyways, when she was just a regular mage, running around helping others. She fell in and out of relationships in her time away from Fairy Tail, nothing serious, but her prowess had always spoken when she was unable. Helped her fall in with the people she needed in the moment who required her powers just as heavily.

But now she didn’t need them. Didn’t have them. Couldn’t use them. It felt better, honestly, than it had back at Ewings place, now able to at least use her transformation magic, but it still ached a bit, as it always would, whenever she couldn’t draw electricity through her veins at will.

It was depressing.

Just how things had felt, when last year’s long, hot summer had faded into the darkness of a new season. But now she was trapped in the dull shadows of a hotbox sweatshop, equally as shut-in and alone, but just for different reasons.

Sulking wasn’t productive though. Nor was her natural inclinations towards anger and brash attitudes. Shae and Locke were both out of their element and struggling to find ground, but she was given the easiest job of all; she couldn’t fuck it up.

She just had to gain the trust of a bunch of old women.

Marin did it with the older men in the bar, plying them full of beer and liquor and listening to their problems. Finally, for once drawing true inspiration from her sister, Haven found that getting frustrated with her position wasn’t going to get her anyways; she just had to do her job and keep her head down.

So she tried it.

Haven had always been kind of afraid of it. Silence. Left to her own devices. To think. After her ventures into the afterlife’s eternity, she found mostly that she’d never not be afraid of the concept. Silence was just too much for her to handle.

But without even Shae now, it was what her days were mostly filled with. And as she focused, tried hard to get the folding and sorting all down, box breaking and box opening, but fuck.

Fuck.

It was just hard.

But she seemed to be endearing herself more, this way. Or at least she thought. There was a woman, anyways, of the few that were on folding and packing duty, that seemed to not look on her as harshly as she once had.

She was a...hearty woman, Haven thought. Homely, maybe, was the word. She kept her messy brown hair clipped back and out of her face for the most part, but sometimes a strand would fall from its containment and she was mutter curses just loud enough for the typical blonde to catch. A dark, rough patch laid over the older woman’s eye and she cursed about it at times too, wiggling a finger beneath the fabric to deal with an itch.

She went by Bea, the woman did, and she was a glimpse into the world Haven was merely visiting.

It started just like that. Not so harsh looks and, eventually, her grumbling at Haven to take a seat, beside her and two of the other women, during lunch break, down in the grass.

There wasn’t much to talk about. They probably didn’t really have much in common, removed from their current position, but they were trapped, all of them, with the magical marker denoting them as less than, and if they only had one thing to speak on, then it made sense that they eventually would.

“You wanna ask about it,” Bea remarked one day in that gruff she had. They’d had a few conversations by this point, short and to the point. Grumbles over the food, the work, maybe on a too cool summer evening, about the pond water. But this time, as they sat together in the warm grass, sun bearing down on them as they scarfed down their lunch, it seemed different. The tone. The intention. “All the new people do.”

Haven knew what she was talking about, of course, but even for as socially inept as she typically was, even she knew that she was heading down the entirely wrong path. Quickly shaking her head, she had to swallowed the hardened sliver of bread and warm meat of some sort that they’d been served before saying, “N-No, I haven’t. I-”

“Things were different,” Bea told her simply and this, at least, hadn’t been the first time she’d heard such at hing. “Around here. Before.”

Haven paused, not wishing to ward off the potential for further conversations, but also being reverent of letting this once slip through her grasps.

“Before?” she asked softly.

“Before,” the older woman went on, “the current master. The young one. The son.” She almost sneered, maybe, shaking her head as she insisted, “He’s not nearly the...man his father was.”

“Did he...did he take your-”

“Plucked it right out.” She made a popping noise with her mouth that made a woman sitting nearby visibly appear revolted. Bea only reached up, almost absently, to sneak a finger beneath the flap, scratching with a sigh. “Punishments were stiffer. The work harder. What we were dealin’… But I was so young then. Your age, maybe younger. Things were just...different.”

“That’s fucked,” Haven remarked, but Bea only shrugged.

“I’ve seen yours.” Then she made that face again, that sneer, the finger slipping back out from beneath the patch so that she could gently tap the pad against the course fabric. “Well, as well as I can see somethin’-”

“What do you mean?”

“Your scars. On your stomach.” Bea raised an eyebrow. “Told ya mine.”

Which meant she wanted Haven to tell hers. It was probably the entire reason she’d brought up the conversation in the first place.

It was with a bit of a sigh that Haven thought about it. All of it. She had a lot of scars, of course, and wore them well, but the most important…

The fact it was even visible was her own fault, honestly. Her transformation wasn’t that draining, but she needed it to be perfectly even, refilled and never taking away too much. Leaving her scars where they were, hidden beneath her clothing, was an easy concession. And the visible ones only added to her credibility. But they all stripped together, each night, and even though the moonlight didn’t illuminate much, all light only revealed the most inconvenient. Or at least it always had for Haven.

“I got cut open,” she admitted, softly, and though it wasn’t the full truth, as she looked away and reflected, she told just enough of it that her pain was not only convincing, but real. “Died. A-Almost, I mean. I almost died. Someone was able to use magic to save me.”

“All that miracle,” Bea sighed with a click of her tongue and a shake of her head, “only to land you here.”

“Only,” Haven agreed, “to land me here.”

Things only seemed to look up from there. It was difficult, of course, to be too optimistic for the future when you were dealing in such a dank reality, but Haven did feel good about herself. Bea seemed to like her well enough, maybe, and though the other women all seemed to be distant, it was nice to have something of an in.

She felt comfortable in it, at least somewhat, and was very ready to shove it in the often doubting Locke’s face one day when she disappeared off into the shed, equally anticipating her boyfriend as she was the soda pop he’d bring.

Which was why, as he slipped in empty handed, she had a bit of a glare.

“Nothing?” she questioned. “I literally have nothing to look forward to and you still manage to disappoint-”

“Haven.” He rushed the short distance to stand before her, his goofy gaze rather harsh that day. Clouded. Concerned. Reaching out, he grasped her cheeks in his hands, forcing her to stare up at him, linking their gaze. “Something’s happened. Or is happening. I don’t-”

“Is it Shae?” She shoved him off, tossing up an arm and, originally intending it to crackle with the heat of electricity, she instead found herself merely flexing. “We’ll fuck ‘em up, Locke. We’ll-”

“No, Have, it’s…” He only frowned at her. “It’s you.”

Deflating some, Haven returned the gaze though hers was accompanied by a raised brow as she questioned, “What do you mean?”

He wasn’t quite sure, honestly.

The concern came from Shae herself.

Locke had the benefit (misfortune?) of being one of the guards sent up to the penthouse, not for their irregular defiling of select hostages, but rather to rouse Monty from where he was shirking on his duties. It had been with a bit of a huff that Wick chose him, finding the young man eating with some of the other guards in the dining room, and as he and Locke bounded up the stairs, his only offered explanation was, “You talk sense to him, Hux. He likes you.”

But he didn’t like Wick.

No one liked Wick.

He was a cold man, older than the other guards and from the old breed, Anderson had sneered to Locke once behind the man’s back. He kept to himself and mostly seemed to find his time spent trying to get Monty to do anything other than drink and hide in his arcade or penthouse.

It was a difficult task.

But recently, the Master had taken quite the liking to Hux and, while that was annoying to some of the other guards, Wick saw this as a new, unexplored advantage. Guys listened to their friends, after all, and if the new guard could, at the very least, supply an easy way to control the Master, then, well, his presence was worth it.

Up in the penthouse though, as Wick moved through the living area, unconcerned mostly with the women that hung around, and instead headed to bang on Monty’s bedroom door, Locke uneasily glanced around at the women seemed equally as uneasy to see him. He almost raised his hand to wave at their very pointed avoided glanced, but he didn’t have a chance as someone came rushing over to him.

Shae had spent the past few days sitting by the door, mostly. She avoided Monty when she could, but felt it very important that she get to Locke, as soon as possible. Being locked away in the penthouse, this felt completely impossible as the man, she knew, would avoid the place like a plague. Still, there really wasn’t anything to do, at all, other than slowly go insane in the place and though she knew she was meant to be gaining trusts of the women around her, she found herself far more worried over something else.

She’d gotten up. Right before he came in. To find what had been left for them to eat in the kitchen. There was more, here, than down in the sweatshop, but most of the women, especially those who’d been there long, seemed to survive mostly on their pills and alcohol.

But Locke came in, while she was doing that, and at first, the sight of Wick stalking through the apartment wasn’t a welcome one to the woman and she hung back. But as he was barking for Monty, Shae saw the man she was actually looking for and, not knowing exactly when she’d be given another opportunity, she ran right for him.

It was awkward, the next few motions, as she hesitated and Locke tensed, at the feeling of someone approaching him in such a manner, but then there was the awkwardness of all the women staring and one of them had to say something, but it had to be here, because she was the one who had something to say, and while he was too shocked for much more than his silence, Shae knew she need to get the information to him as subtly as possible and, well, given their implied relations by that point, she figured it wasn’t too out of the realms what she did next.

Somehow, it was even more awkward.

Locke pulled back, when he realized what he was doing and it was like pressing her lips against nothing, mostly his chin, honestly, as she leaned up, but not enough to account for how hard he was trying to evade.

Pulling away herself, just slightly, she whispered, “Haven’s in trouble.”

Locke blinked with a questioning, “What?”

“Take this.” And her hands had been wrapped around his neck, but one of her balled up fists opened then and a folded slip of paper tickled the back of his neck as it tumbled down beneath the collar of his tucked in shirt and came to rest around his hip line, right where his too tight cut off passage. Shae’s eyes were wild as she insisted to the man, “You have to do something.”

It was on instinct, almost, the way he nodded at her solemn tone, but again, the seconds in this encounter were stifled by another immediately following it.

Wick had been coming out of the bedroom then, chewing out an inebriated Monty while he was at it, but this stopped suddenly when he saw what was taking place. Shae still had an arm wrapped around Locke’s neck and he was still too dazed to do much about it. The sight, for some reason, caused Wick to shout at them, but his gaze was quickly somewhere else.

“Enough,” he’d growled, the older man had, and all the women, who hadn’t really relaxed the entire time, seemed even more uneased by the action. With a deep growl, he was stalking right back across the room then to grab Shae roughly by the arm and toss her to the side. “You will not-”

“Hey!” Locke bucked right up as Shae, fighting against all instinct she knew, forced herself to only fall away and not bite back at the man.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” And Wick turned to Locke once more, raising his hand and striking him, sharply right above his left ear. Having been raised on such things, if anything the feeling made the hardy mage almost nostalgic. If only the hit wasn’t so weak with no true iron behind it. As Locke blinked away the feeling, his direct superior only glared darkly into his red eyes. With a shake of his head, Wick insisted, “You will never do that again. Do you understand? You are on duty. And in front of her?”

“In front of who?” Locke griped as he resisted the urge to rub at his ear. “What are you talking about?”

But Wick just huffed then, turning on his heel and walking over to where some of the women were coward, wincing as he came close, but there was only one that he seemed interested in. Locke had seen her before and, though she hadn’t stood out to him before, he recognized her as one of the women that worked in the kitchen. Not marked. Hired help. She was the youngest one of them, a teenager, and Locke had mostly steered clear of the kitchen help, not quite sure how they fit into liberation.

He grabbed her though, Wick did, hissing something about how she shouldn’t be up here, right now, and she was wide eyed, the teenager was, nodding her head and being drug from the penthouse while everyone else stood stock still and eerily silent.

As the teen and Wick disappeared out the door, a beat would come to pass before Monty, the only one capable of breaking the tension laughed, drunkenly, shaking his head as he continued on then.

“C’mon, Hux,” he slurred as he came to weakly slug the man in the shoulder. Grinning, his glassy eyes found Locke’s as he remarked, “Gotta finish work, huh?”

“Yeah,” Locke agreed with a nod and, though he did glance at Shae, he turned to follow after the Master.

Monty stumbled down the stairs with Locke’s help and, with some more assistance, the mage managed to shove the guy into his office where, following, he was certain to close the door behind them.

“Wick’s just freaked,” Monty explained, going to fall into his chair. “That I don’t, uh, seem presentable to my uncle.”

“Your uncle?”

“Alwood.” He sniffled though, at the man’s name, Monty did. Raking a hand across his face, he groaned some as he said, “Man look’s out for me.”

But he couldn’t even think about that sort of thing, in that moment, Locke couldn’t. Instead, he only paced a bit, around the small office, while Monty continued to rub at his face trying to wake himself up.

“Can I ask you something?” Locke finally asked and Monty waved his hand a bit.

“Sit down and do it,” he grumbled a bit. “Giving me a headache.”

Hesitating, Locke glanced at the door before going to sink into one of the plush chairs that set before the desk. Softly, he asked, “Who was that? That girl?”

“I dunno,” Monty replied as he rubbed a palm roughly into one eye, the stinking eventually causing him to gasp and drop his hand. Then, dryly, he replied, “You’re the one fuckin’ her.”

“What? No, I meant… The one that Wick drug out of there,” he explained. “The young one. Who-”

“That’s Wick’s fuckin’ daughter.”

“He’s what?”

Monty snorted then, sneering some as he sat back in his chair and focused on the ceiling for a moment. “I’s a kid when it all happened. It was under my dad that it all happened. That fucker. Left me all this shit to deal with. And fuck Wick too. Asshole. Thinks he so good. So great. Knocked the woman up. Down in The Factory. Judges me. He does the same fucking thing. Did. Whatever.”

Locke shifted, a question on his tongue, but doing so caused the slip of paper down the back of his shirt to scratch against his back and, suddenly, he couldn't give a shit about Wick.

“Hey, man, are you going to be alright?” Jumping up, Locke forgot for a moment that he actually, sort of, had a job to do and straightened at the remembrance. As he looked over Monty, he added, “If I take off?”

Monty ran a hand for once through his hair, causing it to become even more disheveled. Shaking his head, he said, “Gotta, uh, sober up. Before Alwood comes around.”

Locke found it unlikely that this would be accomplished, but he had his own problems to worry about. Not only did he imagine Wick would be on his ass, should he run into the man again, but he needed to get that slip of paper and read it over as soon as possible.

His room was empty, thankfully, when he arrived at it. On occasion, the other guys would be lingering around to talk or try and goad him into going into town with him. They all got their checks every two weeks and, now with a sizable accumulation of cicles, the offer seemed like it should have been more enticing to him than he was displaying to the others.

But he didn’t want to leave the property. Not with Haven around. If he told her about it, she’d goad him into going out with the other guards, get to know them better, study them, learn something useful to the cause, but fuck that. He wasn’t leaving her alone on the property.

It was hard enough knowing she was so close and yet barred off from him the majority of the time.

His chest was pounding, as it had since what had popped off upstairs, but alone now, closed off in his tiny bedroom, his heart felt like it was trying to rip from his chest. Ripping off his shirt, he probably looked a foo as he spun around in a tight circle, trying to find where the slip of paper had fluttered off to, freed now.

It wasn’t much. As he found the white slip sticking out against his dark hardwood floor, his fingers trembled some and he was both disappointed and terrified by just how short in length Shae’s note was.

She had to be straight to the point, of course, and there wasn’t much there for him to glance over, but still, he found himself collapsing onto the edge of his bed as his eyes traced over the short writing.

Alwood’s taking Haven back with him. Stop her from going. I’ve heard bad things about him. She’s not safe.

The note didn’t tell him much. And though he tried to get what he could out of the guys he had patrol with the next morning, because of the former, he didn’t have much to offer Haven that day, as he stared with heavy concern at what, truly, was a strange woman, but exuded all the warmth (or lack there of) that his girlfriend did.

He’d spent the majority of his life trying to protect her. And others. It was in his nature, since he was a boy. He liked for all the people he cared about to be as safe as possible. This was a difficult task, growing up as a mage, but he always saw after his friends. Haven especially.

His whole point in coming to this place was for that exact reason. He dreamed of more, he wanted more, but deep down, it was the only thing that really mattered.

“Alwood is going to try and take you,” he told her simply. “But I’m not going to let him.”

Haven stood there for a moment, after his words, losing her tension and fear for Shae and, at least somewhat, gaining some for herself.

“Alwood,” she repeated his name softly then, frowning, “knows Ewing.”

“What?”

“I told you. That’s where I know him from.” Turning from the man, she could only blink in the darkness, her desire for static, not to draw, but to expel, pooling in the pit of her stomach. “What if Ewing told him about me? And he came here to get me?”

“Haven, I don’t think-”

“He knew me, Locke.” She shook her head some. “From the last time. When I was there. The first time. He knew exactly who I was. He’s connected and shit and is after me now, I bet, and-”

“If you need me to get you out of here-”

“What?”

Locke looked quite serious when she glanced over her shoulder at him. Softly, he said, “I’ll sneak you out. Whatever. That’s why I came. If you or Shae run into trouble-”

“I’m not in trouble.”

“What do you mean? You think some rich fucking sicko is out to get you.”

“Are you kidding? Fuck him. He’s after me? Ewing’s after me?” She turned quickly then, bouncing on her feet, seemingly amped. “Fuck him. He doesn’t know what he’s messing with.”

“Haven-”

“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill them all.”

“You’re not-”

“I’ll fucking kill them, Locke.” She threw up a fist again, still with no electricity behind him, but as the blow connected to Locke’s chest, he had to suck in a breath. Twisting her fist, she pressed harder into him, but didn’t stumble forwards, instead only hanging her head, arm taut and rigid as she breathed heavily down at their feet. Bravado deflated, she only whispered, “I’ll fucking kill him, Locke.”

“You won’t have to.” He balled his own fist, but it was only to crash it down on the top of her head, sighing some as he took in her new look. When she raised her eyes, they were dark and not her own, but the heaving of her chest alternated perfectly with his own as he tugged her to him. “I fucking will.”

Haven rested there for a moment, indulging maybe, if just for a moment. Shoving him off after a beat, she only whispered, “You can’t kill shit. Fucking worthless.”

“If you had killed Ewing back at his place,” Locke retorted with a frown, “then we wouldn’t even be having to deal with this shit.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re,” he replied, “in trouble. You get that, right? This isn’t a joke. You can’t go back with Alwood. And if he’s intent on taking you, then it’s probably best if we start figuring a way to get you out-”

“No way.”

“Haven-”

“Give me time,” she insisted. “We can’t fuck this up. Shae upstairs, I’m down here, you’re a guard… This is too perfect to not be the plan. How it’s meant to be.”

“I’m not going to let you-”

“I’m not going with him. I won’t.”

“Then-”

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Shaking her head, she asked instead, “How do you even know they’re taking me? Have you spoken to him? Alwood? Or did your little friend the master-”

“Shae told me.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “She, uh, passed me a note.”

“How does she know?”

“Haven, I don’t fucking know.” It was his turn to be annoyed. “How do you not know? If she does? I thought you told me you were making friends.”

“Friend. I’m making a friend.”

“Haven-”

“I’ll ask her about it.” Haven seemed to snap out of her funk, if only for a moment, as she snapped her fingers together. “I’ll ask her to tell me everything she can about Alwood and if she knows why he’d even want me, what for and all that, right? She’ll tell me. We talked, you know? Seriously talked. About-”

“You’re not going,” Locke told her simply. “With Alwood. If I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming-”

“Calm down. Idiot.” Haven held her head higher. “I didn’t want to go with him either. I’m not going to. Especially not if he’s tangled with Ewing. That’s not why we came. We came to get access to tunnels or some shit, right? So I’m going to fucking get us that.” Then she conceded a bit, “We’re going to fucking get those. I’m going to talk to Bea and you’re going to actually be fucking useful and we’ll figure out how to avoid Alwood all together. When does he leave?”

“I don’t know. I-”

“Useless.” She shoved him this time, but it was playfully, maybe, and Locke pushed her back, maybe too hard, but he was kind of tired of being smacked that day. Still, when she sighed, he gave one back, only nodding his head when she ordered, “Find out. Okay?”

It felt weird, when she turned her head up to press her lips to his, and Locke laughed some into the kiss, which got him shoved again, but he only shook his head.

“Doesn’t feel right,” he told her. “Here. With...this you.”

She snorted, shoving passed him then, “if you could make yourself taller-”

“I’m going to find out when he’s leaving,” he insisted. “And if we haven’t figured a way to make sure he’s not taking you with him-”

“You worry too much, Locke.” And she clipped his name the way that he liked. Poised to head right out of the shed, she only reminded, “Do what I told you and everything will be alright.”

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