#VERY respectful to have sex with her knowing she was his sister then mind-trap her until she killed herself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crazygalore · 3 years ago

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GABRIEL MAY (MALIGNANT) NSFW ALPHABET

TW: mentions of dysmorphia, NSFW

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Surprisingly, Gabriel actually NEEDS it, after each lovemaking session - no matter how gentle or how rough he was with you. He’ll draw the both of you a hot bath, and help you wash yourself. If you return the favour, this boy will positively melt, and let out tiny noises that sound suspiciously similar to little purrs. Afterwards, once he has patted your dry with a fluffy towel and dressed you in your favourite pyjamas, Gabriel will carry you to bed, and place you under the covers. Then, he will bring your favourite snacks and beverage, to enjoy while you huddle together to watch a movie before falling asleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Gabriel could never pick just one thing he loves about you - because he practically worships you body and soul. You are infinitely beautiful in his eyes, and the fact that you love and accept him for who he is feels like a miracle to him.

Since he doesn’t actually have a body of his own, he expresses his identity though clothes that he wears, which are different than the ones owned by Madison. Although they’re not body parts per say, he sees his leather coat and makeshift gold dagger as extensions of himself, and he enjoys donning them whenever he takes over his twin’s body. He will, sometimes, remain fully clothed during sex.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

His pleasure is your pleasure, and he will make you cum as much as possible, if only to enjoy your desperate moans and whimpers.

Being transmasc and trapped his Madison’s body, he suffers from severe dysmorphia and doesn’t really enjoy being touched intimately. And, as stated HERE, he did communicate with his sister when the two of you decided to become intimate, because he felt like this specific situation called for his sister’s consent. She doesn’t have access to his memories regarding his sex life, though - which is for the best.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s not a secret that he loves watching you pleasure yourself. The first time he witnessed it, you weren’t aware he was there, lost as you were in the act, so he quietly enjoyed the show from the door, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mangled mouth.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

You are Gabriel’s first and only love, and the only person who ever saw him as a human being, worth of respect and adoration. So he doesn’t have that much experience, but he did his research and tried to learn as much as possible about the human body’s erogenous spots. That makes up for his lack of actual physical experience, at least most of the times. But since your guys’ relationship is based on trust, respect and communication, Gabriel is never ashamed to ask what works for you, and what doesn’t.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary, since he usually uses his mouth, fingers or a strap-on to pleasure you - and he wants to be able to look at your face, kiss your lips and hold you in his arms during sex. Gabriel is a very tactile person, and extremely touch-starved, so he actually NEEDS to be held, caressed and comforted. It’s the main reason why he enjoys making love to you so much, because the physical intimacy is something he’d never experienced before.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn’t say he’s particularly goofy, but he isn’t very stoic either. If anything awkward ensures during sex, he will try to make you laugh about it, so that you can relax and move on.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He doesn’t actually have a private area of his own, and its pretty much Madison’s business as to how she grooms her nether region. He doesn’t actually care about those parts, since he never uses them.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very intimate, very romantic and very needy. As stated above, he craves physical contact, and he melts whenever you treat him with gentleness and affection. Hold him, kiss him, caress his scarred cheeks, and tell him how good he makes you feel, and Gabriel will be putty in your hands.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t actually partake in this act, as he doesn’t enjoy looking at, or touching the private parts of the body he shares with his sister. But sometimes, he fantasizes about what he would do to you, if he had a body of his own.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Gabriel is surprisingly vanilla, but he can be pretty dominant in the bedroom. He will pin your wrists above your head, as he fucks you into the mattress, or guide you into touching yourself, his voice a mere growl coming from your phone’s speaker. Knife kink, maybe, but only when it comes to cutting off your clothes. He doesn’t wanna hurt you, so unless you insistently ask him to, Gabriel won’t hold his makeshift dagger to your throat, or drag its blade across your skin. After all, he has other ways to let out his violent frustrations, so he feels no need to bring that to the bedroom. He was hurt by people who abhorred him, and he returned the favour years later. Love and violence do not cross paths in Gabriel’s mind.

Also clothed sex, because he enjoys wearing his leather coat and gloves, as he teases your naked body mercilessly.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere inside the house, but the bedroom is his favourite, because it’s more private and safe. Plus, he enjoys taking his time, so the bed is the most comfortable option when it comes to lengthy lovemaking sessions.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Whenever you treat Gabriel with kindness and love, he will feel the need to bring you pleasure, and show you just how much he covets you. For him, sex is a means of expressing his affection for you - it’s an act of adoration and gratitude.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will NOT hurt you, ever, no matter how much you insist. You are the only person who has ever treated him right, and he cannot bear the thought of harming you in any way.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Enjoys giving, and is very enthusiastic about it. This boy will eat you out for hours, and has become fucking expert at it. He knows just how to angle his face, and use his teeth and tongue to cause you maximum pleasure. Your taste is heaven to him, and your needy moans and whimpers are music to his ears. He will edge you, he will overstimulate you, he will play your body like a violin, using his mouth and fingers alone.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood. Slow and sensual is his go to, but he can be rough if you ask him to. But regardless of the pace, Gabriel is ALWAYS very passionate, and completely dedicated to your pleasure. Also, this boy is inhumanly strong, so he may end up becoming rough without even realizing it - but in case it becomes too much, all you have to do is tell him, and Gabriel will apologise and treat you more gently.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not opposed to them, but he prefers taking his time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s willing to try anything, so long as it doesn’t cause you any actual harm. Hickeys and faint finger-shaped bruises happen a lot, since he doesn’t always calibrate his strength properly all the time.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Oh, he could go on forever. Remember he experiences pleasure exclusively through you, so he never gets tired of it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh, yes, 100% a fan of toys, all of them meant to drive you utterly insane with pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The most unfair and maddeningly patient tease to ever walk this Earth. He will edge you until you’re crying and begging for release - and only then will he CONSIDER to maybe let you cum.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Low growls and muffled moans are the best he can do - although he may use your phone’s speaker to talk dirty to you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Gabriel really enjoys sucking on and playing with your nipples. And, yes, he has actually made you cum by solely teasing and fondling your chest.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

As I said, he uses a strap-on, which is just the right length and thickness to bring you maximum pleasure. In fact, the more I think about it, the more inclined I am to believe he consulted with you before buying it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I would say his sex drive is medium to low, so unless you initiate it - case in which he will be delighted to take you to the bedroom - he will rarely bring it up. But he does have his moments, when he simply craves your passionate embrace.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends. Sometimes he falls asleep as soon as aftercare has been performed, and sometimes he stays awake a little while longer, just to watch you sleep peacefully by his side.

#malignant #gabriel may #gabriel may x reader #malignant imagine #gabriel may imagine #malignant x reader #gabriel may headcanons #malignant headcanons #tw dysmorphia

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witchthewriter · 2 years ago

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Hi!!! I found your blog a little while ago and I've reblogged some stuff beforehand but I'm gonna reblog more 1. Just to be safe and 2. Because I love your writing!!!!!!! (I'm @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame) I was wondering if I could get the level 5 ship for twilight, Vikings, and peaky blinders? (Or just one if the three is too much!!!)

I'm an infp, Gemini sun, Libra moon, and Gemini rising, I'm 19 years old and my pronouns are she/her!

I'm black and darkskinned and I have sister locs down to my neck and right now they're orange but I like to dye my hair a looooot, mostly pastels cause those are my favorite colors. I'm chubby and abt average height but I feel like I look very cherubic to people who don't know me well lol

I have a lot of different aesthetics that I like but I mostly like anything rlly soft looking and cutesy, like rn I've been really into coquette clothes, cottagecore, and pretty much anything pink. I really love whimsigoth clothes and aesthetics too tho!!

I love collecting things, particularly rocks and anything that an old lady would like (I own like 8 vintage tea kettles rn and it is not enough I need more in my life), languages (I speak three well-ish and I'm learning like 18, (one of the three is literally ancient Egyptian because I like learning ones that are mostly useless to me) and linguistics, mythology, witchcraft, cats!! (Pretty much any animal tho, like I'm obsessed with them. Especially animals people are wrong about being ugly, like shoebill storks??? Giant Chinese salamanders??? Adorable. Some of the best creatures on this earth.) anything sweet, writing, which I'm hoping to eventually be able to do full-time, and just walking around in parks tbh, I'm pretty simple to please

My music taste is just loud and/or sexy, sometimes forestlike, but pretty much every song in their is just something I couldn't show to a Victorian child without them passing out

Also if u have any nsfw to put in that'd be awesome but it's absolutely not necessary, just wanted to let you know that I'd be fine with it!!!!

Sorry if this was too long!!! I hope it was actually helpful lol

Want to be shipped? Here be the instructions 🦋

Hey doll you sound so sweet! I love all the information. It makes doing these so much easier - and they’re more detailed and suited to the person. So, good job!

What each ship has in common:

⋆ Intelligent ⋆ Fierce ⋆ Loyal ⋆ Emotional Intelligence ⋆ Curious

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Rosalie - you’re opposites. Like moon and sun. But you don’t clash. Instead, you see new ways of thinking from each other and learn.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Nudging her when she says something too blunt. She sighs and apologizes (half-heartedly.)

・You’re the one wearing the pants in the relationship

・Rosalie will defend you until her dying breath

・She likes kissing your neck

・Having a very avid sex life. She likes it when you’re the dom; taking charge and pushing her against a wall.

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Your open mind and curiosity. Rosalie feels as though she’s trapped as a vampire. Always standing still, never moving forward. But you showed her that that isn’t true. You gave her hope. And continue to do so every day. You’re her reason to live.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Your best friend would be Alice! You have similar energy and would spend so much time together. You would learn a lot from each other; especially since Alice has lived for so long. She tells you about different styles and aesthetics, and she’ll love dressing you up.

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Ubbe Ragnarsson. I think he would be the most emotionally intelligent out of the men. He has a lot of curiosity and respect for new cultures. He has an open mind in that way, which links to that aspect of your personality. I think you would do well with someone who was able to see the deeper meaning of something.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He’s actually a sook when he’s alone with you. He loves how caring and gentle you are with him. He needs tenderness.

・So that means he has a mummy kink ... playing with your tits, biting, licking, and sucking.

・Telling you about the dreams he has for your future. He loves talking to you.

・Knowing each other’s facial features so well that you can read whatever the other is feeling

・He wants you to decide what he should do with his hair. Whether it’s braiding, shaving, tattooing etc

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Your smile. He loves making you smile. He’ll do the most insane things just to see it. It’s not as if you’re a moody/grumpy person, but there’s something about him being the reason you smile, that gives him butterflies.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Would be Torvi. I think she has a lot to say and is very wise, but thinks about what she wants to say a lot, which leads her to not speak much. You encourage her to say what she wants, and she loves hearing your thoughts.

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Ada Shelby! I think you two would be a match made in heaven. Absolutely getting each other. You’re zodiacs match up, but not only that, but your values as well.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Reading together in front of the fireplace. You would laze between her legs, your head resting on her stomach while you both have a book in front of you.

・Knowing that you’re safe because you’re a part of the Shelby family. You can do whatever you want in Birmingham and there are no repercussions.

・Having civilized debates together; hearing the other’s opinion without it getting heated

・Dates at the movie theatre, picnics, lazily drawing figures on each other’s naked bodies

・She likes being in charge, stripping you naked and kissing every inch of your body

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Your intelligence, determination, and desire for knowledge. Ada values these qualities in herself - so when she met you, it was like she felt seen. Ada loves talking to you about literature, about philosophy, languages, and animals. Anything you’ve learned she loves to hear about it.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Your best friend is Esme - she would definitely connect with your cheerful and blithe personality. You’d gossip with each other, invite her for tea and meet her own family. She’s such an interesting person that feels so mysterious to others, but to you, she’s your good friend.

#let me ship you #ship game #twilight #peaky blinders #vikings #headcanons

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years ago

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Harringrove tag game! by @lovebillyhargrove

I was tagged by @mrsblackruby! tysm!! <3

1. Do they get together BEFORE MF possessing Billy or AFTER shit goes down? (Or maybe DURING😲)

Typically I say before, like at around Christmas time in ‘84. I think anybody in a small town puts aside character prejudices around the holidays and tries to make those connections with everyone, so I’ve always felt, especially since the fight was literally only a month before, that Steve would reach out to Billy the night of the Snowball and things would, well, snowball from there.

2. Who kisses who first?

Definitely Steve. I firmly stand by the hc that Billy’s never kissed a boy before Steve, and maybe Steve hasn’t either, but he’s the romantic, no way is he going to let Billy kiss him first.

3. Where do they have their first sex? (Location) (HJs and BJs count)

I don’t really have a solid answer for this? But definitely somewhere very spur of the moment, maybe somebody’s couch or the locker rooms?

4. Who says 💖 I LOVE YOU 💖 first?

Imma say Billy. Opposite of my last answer, I don’t feel like either of them would say they love each other on accident or like, in the moment. I think their first I love you’d would be very very controlled. I also think Billy has less experience with actually being in love, so when the time comes that he’s actually mustered up the courage to say it to Steve, I think he’s super nervous and practices the perfect scenario in his head a dozen times. It’s definitely not blurted out.

5. I believe this fandom is way past having hard feelings about it, so

BottomSteve! or BottomBilly?

I don’t have a strong opinion either way, but typically, I prefer bottom!Steve. No particular reason, that’s just the way I tend to read things!

6. Do they give gifts to each other?

Absolutely! Billy doesn’t have the disposable income to run out and buy Steve new things every time he wants to give him something, so I think he does a really cheesy like, giving him a kiss as a present and making a big deal out of it.

Steve is sort of the same way, in that he doesn’t like to give Billy material things, because he doesn’t want him to think he’s being pretentious or trying to hold his wealth over Billy’s head like he’s his mom or something, so he only gives Billy personal things. Old pilled t-shirts to wear to bed and a blanket to keep on the couch in his room that smells like him. Things like that.

They also try to make eachother things as presents, like food or little knick knacks in art class, but they always fail miserably and think it’s really funny when all they have to show is a smoking mess.

7. Where do they end up living? California, Chicago, Hawkins... Idk .. Alaska??)))) Any other location?

I honestly think they stay in Hawkins. I don’t think after everything Billy would be able to leave Max behind, and I also think that Steve would like having a connection to where he grew up, even if bad things happened there. If they did leave though, I see them going down south, maybe tourist trap Tennessee?

8. What are their future jobs?

In my mind that very much depends on if we’re following canon and this is post Starcourt or like, if it’s a whole new AU. Because after that I don’t think Billy would actually ever be physically well enough to work again. I know it’s a pretty unpopular opinion, bc the general hc is that he bounces back within a year or so with some scars (which is cool! I’m not knocking that I’m just sayin) but I think he'd be permanently disabled, on oxygen support 24/7, and just with all sorts of health complications from, you know, literally having a gaping hole in his chest, that would make it impossible for him to work. In that sort of scenario I usually think of Steve as a being teacher or an artist, something that he doesn’t have very long work hours or can do from home so he can be there to take care of Billy.

If we’re going with like, a no upside down or a Billy is never hurt au, I think he stays in Hawkins and just works in some sort of a mom and pop until he’s the new manager, like at an antique store maybe?

(p.s. stay tuned for an upcoming fic about Billy working in a fix-it shop!!)

As for Steve, I feel like he wouldn’t ever be able to settle on one career when he didn’t have limitations. I don’t really know what he’d eventually decide is his calling, maybe design of some sort? Jewelry making?

This is a hard question, I don’t really see them as being tied down to one career indefinitely, but I do know I don’t see either of them ever working desk jobs.

9. Who's a better cook?

Neither of them. Billy wasn’t allowed in the kitchen growing up because Neil said it’s a woman's place, and Steve is just god awful at following directions, like, can’t tell the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon or preheat the oven awful. They just eat takeout and like, cold sandwiches literally all the time until someone (Joyce) notices and teaches them how to cook on the weekends.

10. Steve Hargrove or Billy Harrington?

Billy Harrington. I don’t see him wanting to be a Hargrove anymore. He has no positive ties to the name with his mom leaving and his dad being his dad, so I think he’d want to take Steve’s last name. Also this is kinda weird but I am VERY particular about my middle name hcs (I think it’s an ocd thing? idk) and I have an alliterative name for Steve that wouldn’t work if he was a Hargrove instead of a Harrington, so that’s also part of the reason.

11. What's Max's reaction when she hears they're together?

I think probably just like, confusion. Not over Billy being with a boy, but over that boy being Steve. Like, she doesn’t know Steve well, but she knows he’s the responsible big brother to Dustin, and that’s the exact opposite of what her brother is like, so it catches her off guard. She’s definitely a little gossip though, wanting all the not-gross details about Steve from her brother. She’s basically just a little sister about it, I guess.

12. Describe in ONE SENTENCE Hopper's reaction when he hears the names Hargrove and Harrington mentioned together?

Not again.

13. Does Robin like Billy OR does Robin hate Billy?

I think she likes him. I have a little hc that she and him were together in an underground pre-gsa kinda thing in high school. She pretends she can’t stand him, but the two of them are quick best friends. (this might just be me but I think the two of them together would give statler and waldorf vibes)

14. What about Dustin?

Dustin I think actually thinks Billy is really cool. Like, he’s like a little double agent, hearing from Max all the annoying things about Billy, and from Steve the good things. He’ll gag if Steve gets too mushy over him and he’ll definitely join in with Max in calling Billy gross, and he also absolutely gives Billy a (very non-intimidating. he’s too soft) shovel talk, but I think he really likes and looks up to Billy as like, his other big brother.

15. Fav Harringrove AU?

Oh gosh, I can’t even pick. I think I like childhood friends aus best? They’re really fun to play with and it always ends up being super sweet. I’m a big fan of soulmates too for kind of the same reasons. I like mushy stuff.

16. Billy+Camaro=...??? (Not strictly Harringrove, but I can't not to ..)

I honestly don’t think Billy cares about the camaro that much. He’d be sad when it gets totaled because that was his only way of getting around and also his first car, but I don’t think the car itself has that much value to him. I mean, he treats it with absolutely zero respect, jumping curbs and driving too fast and slamming on those breaks. The camaro is just a car. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I’ll tag: @lifegaurd-hargrove85! @deardmvz! and @strangebrainrot! no pressure! and as usual, if anybody else sees this and wants to participate, feel free!

#tag game!!#long post #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer

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emiliaheartfeel · 4 years ago

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Supergirl

Chapter 9: Wtf is going on

AN: The final chapter should be out today or tomorrow because studying was hurting my face so I start working one this. Again this is only volume 1. Pretty please make sure to comment!

And just as you guys had planned Suna arrived to your apartment with the little snacks you had mentioned in passing you liked. Your heart beat a little faster knowing he remember even though you two had know each other for a little less then a month. Not being able stop yourself you throw your arms over his broad shoulders hugging him tightly.

“Aw missed me that much.”

“You were right. We should’ve hung out early this week.”

Your left foot goes to rub the back of your right calf as you let him go. You have been ridden with anxiety since you got his text about the twins lying. It kinda is freaking you out. Maybe he will let you change your mind and you two can have movie night with the snacks. No, No! You were going through with this.

“Okay so what’s going on?”

“You might want to sit down.”

“No thank you. I am so nervous I think I am going to throw up.”

“Reasonable. Um... so ah”

“Hey I am going to be fine.”

“I don’t know if you are.”

“With all due respect you don’t know that well.”

“I know, but it’s not good.”

“Suna, I need support and honesty.”

“Well honestly it’s not good but you definitely are.”

“That was terrible”

“Okay so I don’t really know where to start”

“Just pick a spot and go from there”

“Ah.. so like you had sex with Atsumu.”

Her head snaps so fast to him he’s shocked she doesn’t have whiplash. The horror one her face makes Suna nauseous now. She swallows as her face is still pale.

“What does that have to do with this!”

“Shit. Should I have started with the fact that they both actually love you like romantically.”

Watching her reacting told him he might have been better leaving that out and for the twins to tell you when you eventually confront. At least he hoped you were going to. Yeah they fucked up, but like you said earlier they were all you basically had. Which after he talked to you more he found was really true. They were your biggest support through the good and the bad. He knew this would effect you guys relationship no matter what he just hoped there was still a relationship.

“Ah... Atsumu and Osamu have both loved you for years. They didn’t want the relationship to change so neither of them made a move.”

“Wait that means,”

Your voice cracks as it dawned on you Tsum had known this and lied to you. Tsum lied to you and then fucked you. You couldn’t feel anything.

“Do you need me to stop for now?”

You give a short nod biting your pointer finger to hold the scream of anguish. Tsum was your rock. A foundation that was unmoving in your life. That foundation has shifted under your feet and thrown you on your back knocking any air out of you. You can’t find your footing it like that one time you hit the vault square in the center of your back. You’re gasping for air that your lungs can’t find.

“Can I approach you,”

You barely hear Suna over the buzzing in your head but you find your head bobbing up and down. He sits you down on your couch leans you into him and just holds you.

“I got you. Anytime it becomes too much just say the word and I will let ya go.”

“No... just.. need to breath”

“Yeah okay beautiful. Whatever you need”

You both sit there awhile as he starts to play with you hair gently. You hum as you close your eyes and focus on keep your breath even. Not knowing how much time has pasted you sit up straight and look Suna in the eyes.

“I think I am good. Please continue”

“You sure?”

“Yes”

“So he lied to you. He says he never meant for it to escalate but he’s weak and selfish he’s not gonna deny that. But yes he lied to you about Osamu”

“Okay but how is Osamu lying to me? You said the twins not Atsumu.”

“Atsumu finally told Osamu all this last week. After he calmed down enough to talk to Atsumu he said you couldn’t know. And they agreed not act like it never happened and move on. Put their feelings aside forever and just be there for.”

“That’s a lot to take in”

You feel like you are in water. Just floating there without sound or sight or much of anything. Both of them have betrayed you knowingly. You didn’t think that one of them would do this, but now you have to deal with both of them. You take another breath for yourself. You don’t know what your going to do. You need time to process this.

“Take it in your own time”

“But they are gonna worry if I just don’t talk to them”

“Think about you right now. What’s going to help you”

“Okay can we stay like this then”

“Yeah sure”

His long arm wrap around trapping you in the warmth when you feel so cold. You don’t know how to feel. You’re hurt and confused. And want to talk them immediately but also never want to see them again. You want to hug them and tell them your all good but also tell them you’ll never be the same. So you just stay there in their best friend’s arms.

Your brain stutters at that. They love you and your find comfort in their best friend from wounds they have caused. How fucked up is that. What if he’s here because now he knows your ‘easy’, but Suna hadn’t been giving you any of those vibes. You just couldn’t get rid of the grating feeling of being with their friend instead of them. Maybe he told you to bring you into his arms. You don’t know anymore. The two people you trusted most you no longer trust and your seeking solace from someone who is kinda a stranger.

“Hey, hey your okay,”

“You’re they friend”

“Yes”

“But you told me something they definitely did want you to”

“I told you already I couldn’t help but think of my sister.”

“So your not here for the hanky lanky”

“Hanky panky?! Hahaha no I am not! Not to say your not attractive I have expressed many times how attractive I find you. It’s just it’s not appropriate not with the information you just got. And we haven’t even talked about dating”

“Oh”

“Hey I know your mind is probably a mess right now. Don’t worry about talking or asking me anything.”

“I don’t want to start dating not with this. I got to figure this all out.”

“I figured as much. But if you want to play a game and chat just let me know.”

“I didn’t want to start a relationship before this like not a solid one I guess”

“Oh...”

“No not like it’s you. Um like you’re great and I think I like you but I am was?? I am?? Getting over Osamu and I leave in two days to go back to Tokyo to resume my professional training. First relationship and long distance doesn’t seem like it would work”

“That makes sense”

“Sorry”

“No need for you apologize. Sucks because your a great girl but if that’s how you feel I can’t change that”

“Your surprisingly very understanding”

“My family is a firm believer in therapy and mental care. Especially I had my first depression dip”

“Ah okay”

“You don’t have to answer me, but do you think you’ll ever forgive them.”

“I want to, but I don’t know”

Masterlist

AN: You shouldn’t have to feel bad for not forgiving someone who took advantage of you. You shouldn’t have to feel bad for forgiving them.

AN: I am a strong believer that Suna is deeply depressed but gets it worked on. I also believe that Atsumu is a huge overthinker with severe anxiety. If I haven’t stated it Reader-Chan is a years younger the Suna and the twins.

IF I GET 10 COMMENTS YOU GUYS GET A BONUS CHAPTER! 😝

@kaleidoscopekai @je-suis-argent-miel @liferuinedby5idiotsand1genius @poppi144 @idontevenknow129 @ssuna @im-the-music-whore @kac-chowsballs

#atsumu smau #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu osamu #haikyuu smau #miya atsumu #miya osamu #osamu smau #osamu x reader #haikyuu suna #suna smau #suna x reader #suna rinatro

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orsuliya · 4 years ago

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Guess what, it’s time for more married!Awu/XQ headcanons, part 2 of who knows how many. Beware of the sappiness!

Once it becomes clear that Xiao Qi and Awu have wildly different ideas about educating children, the denizens of Ningshuo Fortress draw a collective breath. Amusingly enough, it never comes to an all out fight like the one people have been expecting… but still a rather interesting time is had by all.

See, there is no doubt that raising a legion of soldiers is as much out of question as raising a glasshouse of tropical flowers… or root vegetables. That much everybody – from Ah Li Ma to Tang Jing who were both asked to consult on the matter – can agree on. The devil lies in the details. Reading and writing is paramount, but is calligraphy really necessary? Sewing is obviously a must for all, but is fanciful embroidery? Every child should be competent with at least one weapon, but ought they also learn to play instruments, even those with no particular talent for it? At least rudimentary drawing is useful all across the board, no argument to be had there.

The problem is not that Awu and Xiao Qi cannot find a compromise in each of those cases – they absolutely can. Or rather they could... if they were not so careful of offending each other. There comes a time when Xiao Qi blurts out that a princely education is no guarantee of a clear mind or an honourable heart… and then spends the next day or two being strangely apologetic. Which Awu certainly notices, for all that she has no idea what might have caused this sudden development. Yeah, that comment didn’t really register, at least not in the way Xiao Qi fears it did. And yes, Zitan is that much of a non-entity in Awu’s mind.

At the same time Awu might have been dancing around certain subjects, loathe to admit that her husband’s writing is sufficient for the purpose, but would absolutely prevent him from pursuing any kind of serious career in civil service. And since they want their kids to have options, maybe they should think about employing a calligraphy master after all.

Don’t worry, they come clear on both issues! What else are their nightly hug-discussions for, if not resolving potentially painful matters in a relaxed, constructive and mutually satisfying manner?

______________________________

Why would Awu be dancing around certain subjects related to Xiao Qi’s level of education? It’s not like he was ever particularly sensitive to such matters as class difference, right? No sign of inferiority complex there, that’s for sure. Well…

When Awu and Xiao Qi were preparing to leave the capital, Asu made an entire production out of his sister’s upcoming departure. Ningshuo, for all that it may be paradise itself – if one listens to the locals – is rather… provincial, right? No decent wine to be had, no silks, golden bathtubs, first-class inks, high-quality perfume or incense and if there is one decent guan to be had out there, then Turnip will eat his own most decorative one!

Not that Turnip ever comes out and says that Ningshuo is his idea of hell, but still. There is a reason why Xiao Qi prefers not to take part in this whole packing rigmarole; he wouldn’t want to distress his brother-in-law too much… or rather more than he already does at court. Awu takes this brotherly care with good humour; Asu is Asu and it’s true that he would never be able to make it in Ningshuo, but they’re very different Wang breeds and she has no doubts that she will absolutely thrive once there.

The thing is that once they settle in Ningshuo, Xiao Qi starts making those little comments. Nothing really overt and really, they’re made in jest more often than not… But it’s concerning all the same. Self-deprecation is not a good look on Awu’s husband! Well, it totally is, but there are much better ones, so it’s time to stage an intervention.

The next time Awu hears that a Princess like her could have never imagined she would be forced to toil in the field, she snaps. Not like they were toiling anyway – marking out the best pastures is hardly a back-breaking work! So what does she do? Well, first she waits until the evening… and then she immobilizes her husband. True, he may still try to get up while she’s in his lap, but this way he would be forced to take her with him! It’s truly diabolical.

As her second step she asks – very seriously – who is always right in their household and is it true that it’s Princess Yuzhang. Prince Yuzhang, unaware that he’s entering a trap and also rather distracted with what’s in his lap, admits that readily enough.

If Princess Yuzhang is always right, declares Awu, and I am Princess Yuzhang, then what I say must be the absolute truth. And what I say is that you are a silly, silly man. There is nobody else that I would ever wish to call my husband and nowhere that I would rather live but here, by your side, building a future for us and our children. Why, I wouldn’t exchange our current life for any crown and I am something on an expert on those.

It works rather well, that’s as much as I will say on the matter.

______________________________

They do end up employing a calligraphy master for the children. And a painting master. And a slew of other masters as some of the kids get older and develop specific talents. Besides, there is nothing that says they need to limit their educational efforts to their own legion. Ningshuo’s population is booming and there is no better time to found a school or twenty for local children.

Of course most established scholars are very used to comfort and not really used to long trips. In short order, Ningshuo becomes the number one destination for young adventurous men of letters, most rather lacking when it comes to illustrious family background. But they are not the only ones interested in moving to Ningshuo: a good number of respectable old masters also decide to do so.

Turnip Wang tries to warn his sister that she’s playing host to a whole host of dangerous free-thinkers, some of them openly critical of this whole idea of monarchy. Oh, the horror! Awu simply looks at her harried sibling with a perfectly straight face and says that she hasn’t noticed any danger other than the danger of having exceedingly eloquent dinner-companions, which sometimes means that food grows cold before anybody even starts on it. Xiao Qi is very pointedly suppressing a smile in the background.

______________________________

Xiao Qi and Awu are that unbearably cheesy married couple who remains staunchingly and embarrassingly in love even after twenty, thirty years of marriage. And they have absolutely no qualms about public displays of affection. Which leads to some rather amusing moments while at court, but that is an entirely different story.

Now, their kids – both bio and adopted – think it’s the bee’s knees that their parental units love each other so much… but could they tone it down? Just a little? Would a tiny smidge of dignity be totally out of question? There is nothing fundamentally wrong with Father picking Mother up… but must he do it in the middle of the courtyard? And let us not even speak of farewell hugs. And the teasing. Oh, the teasing!

It gets much, much worse once the kids grow up and start pairing off. See, only now do they start to realize what some of their parents’ little quirks actually mean. And most of them mean that Awu and Xiao Qi – grey hair and all – are not that far removed from a pair of newly-weds. More that one son-in-law gets absolutely flustered – some into speechlessness – by the ever-powerful hearteyes. For some reason daughters-in-law deal with this situation much better, although approximately every second one develops… certain expectations.

______________________________

Awu and Xiao Qi do not get it on nearly as often as those poor horrified kids might think. That is they do get it on quite a lot! But it’s far from the only way of marital closeness they enjoy.

The first time Awu and Xiao Qi take a bath together establishes a routine that lasts for the rest of their lives. Dressing and undressing is Awu’s time to be petted and made much of, but bathing? Ooooh, that’s a wholly different matter.

That first time they get into a tub together it’s actually Awu who sits behind Xiao Qi and starts washing him. At first he is more than a bit bashful about it and tries to turn the tables on her, but she is relentless. Finally he starts to relax and once Awu gets to washing his hair, his state can only be described as utter contentedness. There might be some neck kisses and soothing scratches to be had as well, both of which only draw him deeper into a dreamlike trance.

After the water grows cold, Awu dresses them both in soft nightime robes and leads Xiao Qi, still pretty out of it, to bed. Not to have sex, mind you. Just to lie down and breathe together, as close to each other – bodily and mentally – as it is even possible. I am not saying that Xiao Qi cries at any point… Well, of course he cries! It is the first time he’s been treated with this kind of overwhelming tenderness; experiencing such absolute depth of care and love for the first time is an earth-shattering experience for a man who had known so little of both in his life.

They take care to repeat this experience at least once a month; after the first several times Awu no longer has to propose taking a bath together. The first time he actually asks? Her heart grows two whole sizes from sheer pride.

#the rebel princess #monarch industry #Awu and XQ headcanon time #I am so sappy it's getting embarassing #do I care #no not really and it's all your fault anyway #you evil nonnies with your evil asks #you know who you are #I am but a victim and so cannot be blamed for anybody overdosing on pure sugar

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malethirsty · 5 years ago

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Loyalty - Alaric Saltzman

Summary: In a time of despair for the former Hybrid host, Klaus decides to have some fun with him, which leads a darker Alaric to ravage you, one beyond control.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), Daddy Kink,

Inspired by: https://twitter.com/MaleThirst/status/1202936339643023360

Whilst you had been living it up between Klaus, Tyler, Stefan & Marcel, things had fallen apart back in Mystic Falls. Damon in his alcoholic mess of a state, had sipped on the wine at the Mikaelson Ball and after Esther followed through with staking Finn, he of them bit the dust. Elena & Jeremy were furious and had used Bonnie’s magic to track you to New Orleans, if only they’d known what happened to witches there. Having informed Marcel of Elena’s judgemental behaviour, he had his armed progeny lock her up in the quarter’s dungeons, from the front row seat with Klaus, you saw Jeremy, heartbroken and crying at the sight of Marcel & his allies celebrating his half sister’s fate. You’d feel bad if it wasn’t for how she had you isolated and you were initially relieved that the Gilbert had been dragged away by an eager Kol, catching a few words of what he said as he dragged Jeremy away “Darling stop struggling, you’re gonna love the life I have planned for you.” The relief however was cut short as Kol’s idea of Jeremy’s new life was turning him into a vampire and capitalising on his newfound thirst for blood & sex to start a relationship with his new protege. With newly turned vampires, their need for both was incredibly persistent, and this raised the problem, how were you supposed to do your business with Klaus, Tyler, Stefan & Marcel, when Kol & Jeremy were seemingly attached at the ass every waking moment of the day?

“KEEP IT DOWN!” You yelled down the hall after another fuck with your harem was ruined by persistent loud noise from Kol & Jeremy “Not my fault we’re hot and heavy darling.” Kol sniped back “For Fucks Sake!” You groaned, turning to Klaus, Tyler, Stefan & Marcel, another romantic night ruined. “This is a fucking disaster.” Stefan put simply, “Can’t we do something?” “We can’t exactly ask him to leave.” Tyler pointed out “He’s still Klaus’s brother.” “Well Klaus’s brother is stopping our sex, and I need to fuck Y/N.” “You all do!” You state, trying desperately to stop an argument blowing up “Klaus, do you have any ideas? WITHOUT a White Oak Stake!” You specified, knowing more staking would result in Elijah and Rebekah mutinying. “I do have an idea, but you may not like it.” “At this point, I’m willing to do whatever.” Klaus smirked at your desperation “Y/N, I think it’s time we paid your old crush a visit.” You gulped as Marcel raised his eyebrows to you, intrigued by Klaus’s statement “You sure?” Klaus nodded at your question “It’s time you taught your teacher crush how to worship you like you adored him.”

Due to Damon death and the sudden disappearance of Elena & Jeremy, Alaric had withdrawn from Mystic Falls & now the lounge of the Gilbert was his domain, sleeping on it almost every night and even for long hours into the day, however today was going to be different for the hunter. Whilst he was in his dreamscape, he heard a voice calling him, “Alaric” it decadently said. “Who’s there?” He responded “Do not be afraid, I have come to offer you what you need: The Gilbert siblings Elena & Jeremy” Alaric looked startled “Where are they, how do you know I need them?” “They’re in New Orleans, kept under lock and key by the Mikaelson empire.” Alaric looked shocked as a “Fuck!” Fell from his mouth “It’s horrible, the sounds that come from the dungeon, lest of all when Kol arrives to see Jeremy! loud cries, lord knows what The Mikaelsons are doing to him!” “You need to take me to him!” Alaric cried out, now starting to panic as the disembodied voice told him of Jeremy’s suffering. Suddenly hands encased him “Calm yourself.” The voice said, moving out of the darkness of Alaric’s head to reveal the speaker: a young woman with chocolate brown hair. “Who are you?” Alaric asked “My name is Davina Claire. I’ve sensed your anguish and have come to save you.” “Like some kind of Fairy Godmother or something?” Alaric questioned, Davina tilting her head “Something like that yes.” At this the hunter began to get nervous “What’s the catch? With your kind there almost always is.” Divina’s head tilted “What’s the matter? Do you always have to think someone has got it out for you? I am merely trying to help, that’s all, nothing else.” Alaric gazed into Davina’s eyes, and finding no trace of malice, let his defences down. “Good, now grip my hands. I will take you safely to New Orleans to free him.” Alaric grabbed onto Davina’s outstretched hands very tightly whilst repeating a vivid incantation. Images began to flash in Alaric’s mind, initially of him and Jeremy, but after a while the images no longer included who he wanted to see. Instead images of beatings, murder, prejudice, expulsion, loneliness, were shown to Alaric, him seeing the events like it was a faded out postcard, Klaus & Y/N eventually melting into these moments, these were their memories. “Let me go!” He growled at Davina attempting to pry his hands away, but they were stuck like glue as Davina repeated her incantation again and again even louder this time. Alaric began to sense what Klaus & Y/N had felt since they had contacted Mikael, Esther, Elena, Damon, Bonnie, Caroline, the angst, the neediness, the anguish, the pain all collided together in one massive hit to the hunter and it filled him with rage, especially knowing he had influenced it “Make it stop! I’ll do anything!” cried Alaric, tears beginning to form, “Anything?” Inquired a familiar voice “Klaus!” Alaric gasped as he turned around to see the grinning hybrid appearing with Y/N, your voice now becoming part of the fray “It’s about time we got on the same level, don’t you think Ric?”

In Davina’s room, you sat back, watching Davina chant her spell, gripping onto Klaus as he connected outward with Davina, your memories and pain being cast onto Alaric in some type of emotion sharing spell that she had located in her books, whilst you were quiet down in New Orleans, you and Klaus were verbally speaking to Alaric due to the spell, hopefully changing his thoughts on Klaus as a whole. Marcel stood behind Davina, making sure she was safe, as these types of spells take a lot of magic out of a witch, Stefan & Tyler shifted behind Klaus & Y/N, wondering how the spell was going, and if all was working out on getting Alaric to turn sides. They didn’t have long to wait however, soon a swirl of magical energy began in the centre of the room, wind whipping as a miniature looking tornado span out of thin air, yet everyone remained stock still, looking forwards to see Alaric slowly appear in the room. As soon as he became more pronounced, the wind stopped howling, and he appeared in full before everyone. “Y/N?” Alaric searched, and you got up and crossed to him “I’m here Alaric, I’m right here.” Alaric threw his arms around you, hugging you deep, as if to make up for pushing him away after you turned to Klaus. Behind you both, motions continued, Marcel taking Davina back up to her room to properly rest, Stefan & Tyler leaving upon Klaus’s orders to stave off Kol & Jeremy. Soon after everyone had broken away, Alaric let go of you “Y/N is easily happy with a hug but I think I should tell you what I, or rather we” he gestured to you & him “Need from you Alaric. As King of New Orleans, my respect must be earned” Klaus informed him, wanting to test the hunter on his loyalty. Alaric nodded towards the hybrid “What do I have to do?” He asked, to Klaus’s dimply grin “You know what you must do Alaric, I’ve been inside you, I know how much you craved Y/N before I came into the picture, was so hard to control myself and not seduce him for you, have you watch trapped as I exercised the thoughts you stroked yourself to every night, lusting after Y/N like some horny desperate man determined to empty his balls cause his wife left him all alone.” Klaus was standing right in front of Alaric, grin prominent as he controlled the situation, Alaric’s look becoming darker with lust as he took in what Klaus was saying “Follow me Ric” You said, breaking the tension, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Having led him to Klaus’s bedroom and told him to follow where his desires took him, Alaric imparted in you his ideal sexual roleplay, and told you what you needed to do, with Klaus keeping position in a corner, listening out for Kol & Jeremy’s return. Alaric sat down at a desk dragged into the room for him, and wrapped twice on it. Knowing that was your cue to begin, you raised your hand and knocked on the bedroom door “Come in” came Alaric’s voice, and you crossed the threshold with papers “Y/N, what do I owe this visit to?” “Hi Mr. Saltzman, I’m here to drop off my grading papers.” You said, holding up the assorted items in hand, Alaric nodding his head up at you “Ah, set them down on my desk Y/N.” You did so and looked up to catch Alaric’s tired expression, complete with overdramatic huffing “Is something wrong sir?” You asked, him looking back at you “Nothing to be concerned with Y/N, you can go.” But knowing from his briefing that he didn’t want you to leave, you sat down before him “Alaric, you’ve listened to all of my problems and helped me out, the least I can do is the same for you.” Alaric sighed and then said “I’ve been looking for my wife, she ran off a long time ago with some asshole, never told me why, I’ve been trying to track her down and have her at least explain why she left.” You looked sympathetically at him and shortly responded with “Fuck her, any reason she left is shitty, you’re an amazing man Alaric, she was too bound up in her lust for other men to see it.” Alaric looked surprised at you “Why would you say that? You’ve barely known me.” “I know enough of you to know that you are one of the kindest, selfless and hottest men around, anyone would be lucky to have you Alaric, don’t forget that.” Surprised but satisfied at your outburst, Alaric opened his mouth, and then shut it again, processing what he was going to say, eventually settling on “Thank you Y/N, thanks.” You held out your hands to the distressed man and he eventually folded himself into you, hugging tightly, head resting on your neck, you took in the moment, tension simmering but waiting for the right moment to make a move.

As Alaric moved his head to match your eye line so you could gaze clearly into his, aged yet longing in them, and somehow reached the same moment together. You both surged forwards, kissing deeply, you wrapping your hands around Alaric’s neck, soaking in the boldness and warmth of the history buff, him no doubt indulging in the same energy as yourself. Eventually the two of you broke apart, and Alaric looked stated but soon was replaced by a look of shock “I can’t Y/N, you should go.” “Alaric please.” “Y/N go. We can’t work, not like this.” He said in pain, like it was hurting him to release you, the same pain echoing on your face as you slowly turned away, wanting one more glance of the man of your dreams. Eventually you turned around but only made a few steps before you suddenly got turned around, and were met with Alaric again enfolding himself into you, this time leading the kiss. You wrapped your legs around Alaric’s waist this time, as he led you to his desk, depositing you on it as he mapped out your mouth with his tongue, wanting all of you. He soon pulled away with one clear instruction “Take off your clothes.” You rapidly pulled garments off and threw them every which way, your adrenaline peaking once you heard Alaric’s belt clutter as it was disposed of, as you turned back, you saw him removing pants and underwear, his cock springing out, very hard in front of you. You looked up Alaric’s hairy body, falling more in love as you saw your strong man in front of you, all daddyish and seductively horny, a glint of lust in his eyes “Fuck Y/N, on your knees, suck my dick.” The command was short simple and to the point, and as you disappeared from view behind the desk, you took Alaric’s massive cock into your mouth, swallowing him deep. “Oh fuck” He growlishly moaned out “Suck it, like that Y/N, so fucking good for me.” After a while you moved off him, noticing movement behind Alaric and caught a full sight of Klaus across from you both, stroking his cock to the show you & Alaric were putting on. With your confidence growing, you decided to be bolder and so eventually you missed his cock, instead sucking his balls deep, Alaric letting out a lustful cry of “OH” right above you “God Y/N, you’re a fucking master at this, you know every part that aches for you. You’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? wanted me to give into your slutty ways and have you so wantonly and passionately, God damn it Y/N, keep fucking going!”

You did as he instructed, gripping onto Alaric’s ass for leverage, running your hands down it, also appreciating the hair there as well, Alaric was the daddy type and you were going to relish in the man presented to you. Alaric was right, you’d waited so long, let your thoughts take you to the most horniness of scenarios, and now here was Alaric Saltzman, all for the taking. So indulged were you that you didn’t notice Klaus gripping you and pulling you away from Alaric and straightening you up “I can hear Kol & Jeremy, you better get ready to fuck now.” Taking Klaus’s warning, you knocked the items off the desk as you sprayed across it, Alaric longingly taking in the sight “I guess this is what it all led to, all those long gazes you gave me, the smiles we sent each others way, you improved under my guidance as I cared more and more, and now here we are, about to fuck. Ready for me?” Alaric asked, and you nodded. Lining up his cock with your ass, Alaric thrusted forwards, burying deep as you both let out loud cries of pleasurableness, though in your case pain as you were being stretched out as Alaric became intoxicated by your walls clenching around his cock. “Fuck Y/N, you’re so tight for me, God I’m gonna fucking love this!” He began a smooth pace, getting you used to his length, you looking up at Alaric’s face, utter bliss upon it as he fucked into you. “That’s right Alaric” came Klaus voice “Fuck our Y/N, look at how he’s falling apart for your dick, and this is what you were missing out on whilst you ran off with Elena & her possey.” Alaric growled angrily “Never again, I want you and Y/N right by me.” Klaus appeared behind Alaric, a look of utter lust in his eyes “They’re here, from what I can tell, making out in the hall, now is when we strike.” He gripped both of you and sped you into the wall “Fuck, as loud as you can, let go.”

It was as if you’d hit a green light and floored the gas, Alaric started to ram in and out as a fast rate, which would alarm any woman he’d fucked before, but you welcomed it with the loudest of moans “Fuck daddy, use me, fuck me hard!” Alaric grinned and grunted as he continued to piston his hips forwards “Fucking tight slut, you wanted this dick, now fucking take it!” All of a sudden, you heard a commotion from the room across from yours, you kept going of course but knew that Kol & Jeremy had heard you both. Having known this could happen, Klaus sped to the door and held it down as it began to buckle forwards from sharp punches on the other side “Niklaus, open this damn door now!” Came Kol’s voice, dripping with anger. “No!” Cried Klaus “You have deprived me of Y/N for far too long Kol, now we’re in control. Y/N is fucking Alaric, and God is it the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen.” Deciding to bury the dagger in deeper you cried out to Kol “Not my fault we’re hot and heavy, darling.” You heard screaming from the other side of the compound which soon vanished, Klaus relaxing from the door “Love, he’s gone, I’m assuming Jeremy ran off, so Kol’s gone to look for him.” You somewhat relaxed, it was understandable, his parental figure was fucking in the room right next to him, of course it would be awkward, but you snapped out of your thoughts as Alaric went deeper, hitting your prostate and making you scream out yourself, only in pleasure instead of pain. “Thank fuck, cause I can’t last much longer” Alaric cried out, “Oh fuck babe, you’re doing so good, daddy’s gonna come soon, so clench around my cock tight!” You did as the older man instructed “How good is it, to take this big dick as a fucking reward for being so good to me?” Alaric questioned “So fucking good Daddy, keep doing it!” Alaric grinned “Of course I will baby, this isn’t going to be a one time fuck, not with this tight fucking hole. Oh fuck, I’m gonna come!” Alaric cried out his blissful release as he shot deep, but somehow kept going, before you realised you had been close but not enough to come at that same moment or before Alaric. No sooner had you thought that, but Alaric fucked in so deep that your tipping orgasm dropped over the edge, you yelling out as you came for Alaric.

You collapsed against each other, sweaty and winded. “Fuck” you got out “I know” grinned Alaric, “Damn Y/N, that was by far the best fuck I’ve ever had.” Knowing you had done better than Isobel, the woman he wifed up built your confidence more, Klaus detecting it, grinned. “You can all come out now.” He said, seemingly to thin air, although you were stunned when Tyler, Stefan & Marcel all popped up out from various spots, Tyler through the door leading to the hallway, Stefan from the wardrobe and Marcel from the landing “That was quite a show” Stefan complimented, “Y/N, you are a fucking hot whore, I’ve missed this side of you” Marcel grinned over at you, “Master, can we?” Tyler said longingly, looking at Klaus for approval. Like a flash, Klaus sped towards you, depriving you of Alaric and flinging you towards the bed, you landing flat. “What the hell?” You shouted, clearly in shock, but your questions were answered before you could ask as a bunch of speedy whirs appeared before you, soon dispelling Klaus, Tyler, Stefan & Marcel as naked as Alaric. “We’ve waited so damn long for this, we’re gonna fuck you so good tonight, so hold on tight love.”

#Alaric Saltzman #Male Reader #Alaric Saltzman x Male Reader #Kol Mikaelson x Jeremy Gilbert #Alaric Saltzman Smut #The Vampire Diaries #The Originals #The Vampire Diaries Smut #The Originals Smut #Loyalty

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kaitintr2001 · 4 years ago

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The nude stripped bareThe history of the body DAVID RIMANELLI

‘To be naked is to be deprived of our clothes, and the word implies some of the embarrassment most of us feel in that condition. The word nude, on the other hand, carries, in educated usage, no uncomfortable overtone.’ So wrote Kenneth Clark in A Study in Ideal Form. David Rimanelli argues that some artists have blurred this distinction. From Félix Vallotton to John Currin.

Kenneth Clark begins his classic treatise The Nude: A Study in Ideal Form by making a distinction between the naked and the nude: “The English language, with its elaborate generosity, distinguishes between the naked and the nude. To be naked is to be deprived of our clothes, and the word implies some of the embarrassment most of us feel in that condition. The word ‘nude’, on the other hand, carries, in educated usage, no uncomfortable overtone. The vague image it projects into the mind is not of a huddled and defenseless body, but of a balanced, prosperous and confident body: the body re-formed.” It has often been asserted that Modernism begins with Manet, in particular with those paintings wherein the vexations of the unclothed female body burst forth with a power of disquietude that appalled the public: Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe 1863 and Olympia 1863. The former picture had been exhibited at the Salon des Refusés, “to that extent, officially beyond the pale of art”, as another Clark – T.J. Clark – remarks in his essay Olympia’s Choice, whereas Olympia was the shocker of the official Salon of 1865. Both paintings display an uncertainty about the status of the nude female figure, an uncertainty that points perhaps towards Kenneth Clark’s distinction between the naked and the nude. These women fail to sustain the idealisation of the nude, slipping decisively into the embarrassing (for some) terrain of the naked. In other words, Manet deprives his models of the acceptable academic veneer of classical nudity, forcing them into the modern age, a naked age, disturbingly and yet ambiguously contemporary.

T.J. Clark continues his analysis by examining the silence of the contemporary Parisian critics concerning the obvious source of Olympia (Titian’s great nude, The Venus of Urbino, 1538), compared with their open acknowledgement of the source for Le Dèjeuner sur l’herbe (a work of Titian that was commonly attributed to Giorgione in the nineteenth century and known as the Fête champêtre, c.1510–11): “Critics certainly came to laugh at its mistakes and incoherences, and yet the best way to do so was to point out what Manet’s picture derived from - and how incompetently… But in 1865 none of this took place. If the revisions of the Venuscould be seen at all, they could not be said.” He goes on to say:”The past was travestied in Olympia: it was subject to a kind of degenerate simian imitation, in which the nude was stripped of its last feminine qualities, its fleshiness, its very humanity, and left as ‘une forme quelconque’ – a rubber-covered gorilla flexing its hand above its crotch.”

The complexity of Clark’s analysis of the reception of Olympia does not bear treatment in a short essay. Suffice to note that a crisis in the depiction of the nude was already, in his view, well underway in the academic nudes of the Salons - the vacuous, silly, trashy Venuses and nymphs of Cabanel, Bouguereau and Gèrôme, to cite only three relatively more distinguished examples – and that the scandal of Olympia was indeed her modernity, a prostitute plainly and unapologetically, rather than a fille de la rue gussied up as Phrynè or Danaë.

Kenneth Clark’s remarks on Olympia are much more modest, but still adumbrate the radical break that Manet’s painting constitutes:”The Olympia is a portrait of an individual, whose interesting but sharply characteristic body is placed exactly where one would expect to find it. Amateurs were thus suddenly reminded of the circumstances under which actual nudity was familiar to them, and their embarrassment is understandable.” Those amateurs would be understandably embarrassed to see nakedness in such familiar circumstances: in a brothel, where they are paying clients.

If the naked and the nude as archetypes stand at the outset of Modernism, then both became thoroughly discredited and disposed of by Modernism’s end. And yet the unclothed figure persisted in certain forms. Félix Vallotton had been a member of the avant-garde Nabis group in the last decade of the nineteenth century, and in such paintings as Femme nue assise dans un fauteuil 1897 and Femmes nues aux chat c.1898 he subjected the nude to the flattening and the unnaturalistic colourations that were also typical of his compeers Bonnard, Denis Sèrusier and Vuillard. But by the first decade of the twentieth century, his nudes begin to change. From the vantage of Modernist criticism and art history, they degenerate, becoming, on the whole, more academic. Yet with hindsight we can discern in Vallotton’s later nudes – and there are many of them – characteristics that render them very contemporary. Nu assis 1910 is stunningly prescient with respect to John Currin’s nudes of the 1990s. This woman looks very much like a stout bourgeoise, and her no-nonsense hairdo attests to her conventional background: no glowing, flowing tresses here, no savage, Baudelairean chevelure . Her face is ordinary, her expression smiling and bland; at best she’s jolie laide. But Vallotton does play oddly with the colouration of her flesh, a hint perhaps of his Nabis past. The flesh tones of the body are those of the morgue, grey and purple; the face, however, looks flushed, reddened, desirous, horny. The Nu assis is a sexed-up corpse, a banal succubus. Were the trappings of the exotic or supernatural more in evidence – as they are, for instance, in the nudes of Gustave Moreau or Fernand Khnopff – Vallotton’s odalisque would appear more acceptable and less disconcerting, because she would belong to a readily identifiable fin-de-siècle feminine typology.

John Curin Bea Arthur Naked 1991 Private collection, courtesy Gagosian Gallery

Vallotton’s Nu assis wreaks havoc on the idealised nude, but she doesn’t quite adhere to Clark’s description of the naked. Instead, wavering between academicism and almost gross realism, she comes off as a sly parody. She appears comfortable and confident in the amplitude of her dead flesh.The Nu allongè au tapis rouge1909 likewise plays fast and loose with the conventions of the nude. Writing of Boucher, Kenneth Clark notes: “The Venus of the dix-huitième extends the range of the nude in one memorable way: far more frequently than any of her sisters, she shows us her back. Looked at simply as form, as relationship of plane and protuberance, it might be argued that the back view of the female body is more satisfactory than the front. That the beauty of this aspect was appreciated in antiquity we know from such a figure as the Venus of Syracuse. But the Hermaphrodite and the Callipygian Venus suggest that it was also symbolic of lust.” In the Nu allongè, Vallotton explicitly alludes to the hermaphroditic figure and the many nudes that borrow its pose; for example,Velásquez’s Rokeby Venus and Boucher’s Miss O’Murphy.”Freshness of desire has seldom been more delicately expressed than by Miss O’Murphy’s round young limbs,” comments Clark with the barest hint of prurience, “as they sprawl with undisguised satisfaction on the cushions of her sofa.” Vallotton’s nude is less fresh, more prurient. As with the Nu assis of the following year, his Nu allongè displays a visual incoherence in the handling of the flesh tones. In this instance, the torso and swelling buttocks are of a mostly chalky white hue, while the face and the hands are curiously flushed. The face and hairstyle again do not suggest the comfortable distance of antique references, but are very much of a contemporary moment.

This is the Venus of a weekday afternoon tryst, a Céleste or Marie of the Parisian banlieues, having just refreshed her maquillage and awaiting her paramour. The face itself is weird, deliquescent; one eye looks like it’s about to slip with slatternly languor from its very socket. Her feet are very heavily shadowed, but the effect is simply that they are dirty.

Vallotton’s loyalty to the nude as subject remains constant until his death in 1925. It comes as no surprise that these paintings have been largely ignored, compared with the works of his Nabis period. Sometimes they are just bad, as with the Vènus marine 1913, a clumsy, ludicrous blond on the half shell, her expression wavering between vacancy and, perhaps, bitchiness. She’s a spoiled mondaine who travesties the goddess she purportedly embodies. But paintings such as this presage the later works of the Modernist agent provocateur Francis Picabia. Indeed, while Vallotton’s later nudes have remained obscure, recently it seems that Picabia’s “bad” figurative paintings of the 1930s and 1940s have achieved a prominence virtually eclipsing his acceptable Dadaist travesties of the teens and 1920s.’Dear Painter, paint me…’, an exhibition mounted at the Centre Pompidou in 2002, bore the subtitle ‘Painting the Figure since late Picabia’. Alison Gingeras, one of the curators, wrote:”Beginning with Francis Picabia’s late nudes from the early 1940s, the question of painting as a filter of mass media’s impact on both individual and collective sense of identity has emerged as a key preoccupation of the artists in the exhibition.” Among them were Sigmar Polke, Martin Kippenberger, Neo Rauch, John Currin, Luc Tuymans and Elizabeth Peyton.”These notorious paintings - shunned for their ‘regression’ into realism and their embrace of kitsch - drew their pictorial source from tawdry black and white photographs culled from soft-core pornography magazines.”Picabia’s Portrait de Suzy Solidor (1933) is an early example of this kitsch revanchism. Anatomically bizarre, his Suzy Solidor, with her heavy blue mascara and smiling, parted red lips, also suspires an unmistakable prurience; the crude, dirty shadows outlining her legs and arms betoken a dirtiness of another sort. Suzy Solidor may yet be recuperated as a Dadaist travesty. The somewhat more competent albeit trashy technique of Femmes au Bulldog, Deux amies and La brune et la blonde (all 1941–2) if anything renders these pictures more scandalous: rude, crude and dangerous to know. Picabia’s lewd nudes may lend a certain contrarian Modernist lineage to the work of John Currin, but one wonders if Currin, so conversant in the art of the Old Masters, is at all familiar with Félix Vallotton? I’ve already mentioned the Nu assis as an extraordinary precursor for Currin’s own “bad” nudes, and I could easily add Le Printemps 1908, an especially ugly and stupid-looking evocation of Primavera. But the most astonishing comparison is between Vallotton’s Etude de fesses c.1884 and Currin’s Bottom 1991. The corporeality of the Vallotton buttocks is almost repulsive as he expends all his resources of painterly technique on the depiction of stretch marks and cellulite. Currin’s painting, on the other hand, seems relatively restrained, evincing an almost Cycladic elegance and symmetry. Scarcely the sort of conclusion one would expect? Even in the case of one of Currin’s most deservedly famous, or notorious, early paintings, Bea Arthur Naked 1991, the sitcom star preserves a certain restraint, dignity even, that militates against the overtly camp/kitsch (or possibly anti-feminist) readings of the picture that so readily come to mind. Perhaps the Arthur portrait is going rather against the grain of the Currin mode, even as it was only coalescing in the early 1990s – the exception that, maybe, proves the rule of perversion. This cannot be said for Vallotton’s nudes – distorted, freakish, moribund and whorish in multifarious variations.

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septiembrre · 4 years ago

Note

Physical affection prompts! 21! 25!

Prompt: accidentally knocking your head into someone’s chin + playfully biting someone

Established relationship. Beth and Rio try couples yoga. An injury ensues.

Side note: This is the first time I’ve ever attempted writing from Rio’s POV. Augauahgah!!! I feel like all the straight Mexi-boys I know are mad sappy about the ladies in their lives so… this is Big!Soft. Don’t hate.

On Ao3

A Bit of a Stretch

It goes like this.

Three months ago, a yoga mat shows up in the car. It’s purple (her favorite color), and Elizabeth probably thought it inconspicuous, neatly rolled up and tucked away in the back. But Rio’s only gotten to where he is in life because he’s got a meticulous handle on the details. So he notices, and it makes him pause -- the reminder of who he is these days.

And he likes to think he’s a smart guy, evolved and shit. But, he’s got to admit he likes the thought of it -- his girl, Aphrodite trapped in suburbia (or was it Athena?), rolling up in the Wagon to some bougie yoga studio. Elizabeth would swing ‘round the back to grab her mat, doing that walk she does when she’s feeling herself as the other PTA chicks’ jaws drop. He likes the security of his second pair of keys in her hands, on her keychain.

What did it say about Elizabeth’s hold on him that he fuckin’ delights in this daydreaming?

And it’s complicated -- ‘cause on one hand, when did he become this guy? Actually, he knows. Three years, eight months, and two days ago. He’s not overly-obsessed with his relationship or anything, but a counter runs in his mind -- how long he’s been with her. So much so that he’s been thinking of getting the date of when she robbed him (the first time) on the inside of his wrist, a complement to the bracelets she’d bestowed him, to drag out as A Move during sex or to embarrass her in front of her friends.

And on the other hand, it’s like... damn, it’s been too long since they fucked in the car.

They cohabitate now -- them and all their kids. They still had an absurd amount of sex in public places (and shit, since when had that been his kink?). He still takes great delight in pushing all her buttons and getting her to unspool around his cock, on his mouth, and in his arms.

But, they were a lil’ calmer now, less feral. They had partially domesticated what this was and had fun in doing so. They shared a bed now, were crate-trained as it were.

She and hers are his family.

But, fuck, he’d been a strict no-strings-attached, hit-it-and-quit-it type of dude for years -- all of his adult life. It was what came with his job.

He had tried to do his best by Rhea when he had gotten her knocked up. But, looking back on it, the exercise had been doomed. When Marcus was born, Rio was in his late 20s rocketing to the top of the food chain. It had been a time when all he could do was keep his head down and do the work -- running in the streets, scheming, consolidating power, and ultimately, he had to make a choice.

Was he going to be a boss, a father, or a husband? To be honest, he only had time for one, but he did his best to make fatherhood fit.

It’s what it was all for in the end, right?

And yet, somehow despite all and many odds, here he was toting Elizabeth’s yoga mat around in his car. Mick rolls his eyes when he sees it, and there’s the typical jokes about being pussy-whipped and what not. But, yeah -- he loves her. At this point, he can’t really deny it. So, he laughs along with Mick’s jokes, and then sends him to chauffeur their million kids around, just to make sure he knows what's what.

Anyway, after a few weeks, Rio comes home from the gym and finds her practicing alone in the house, the kids scattered to their other respective households. Elizabeth’s got a video going on her phone, and her back is arched in a way he’s only ever seen in bed and she has to realize is provocative. But, she eyes him, self-conscious and with old defensiveness, as she twists into a few shapes.

He tries to keep it chill, knows about the residual feelings she carries about her body (and Christ, he can’t believe he’s only had the opportunity to shoot her ex-husband once, he should have taken his own advice and emptied the fucking clip). So he settles close to her with his battered copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology from highschool that he’s been trying to get back into, and steals glances at her over the pages.

He skims the pages on Athena and then Aphrodite, and he likes the hyperbole of each but neither quite fit.

He eventually comes back to Artemis.

And, yeah, maybe.

He looks up at Elizabeth again and admires her form. He admires her strength -- that reedy cord of tenacity he’s admired for so long making itself more visible through the facade of soft as she finds new ways to hold herself up and get herself stronger. Her hair keeps falling into her face and he itches to crawl on the mat with her and pull it out of her face.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

As she continues, Elizabeth notices him watching, and she starts to get a little playful. Eventually, he lures her off the mat and onto his lap.

Yoga becomes part of her routine on the days she doesn’t feel like driving into the studio. And he gets it. He’s always turned to grounding himself in his body when he’s needed to work through things. His first love had been basketball, soccer while on family vacations (and only with his cousins from Tamaulipas). In high school, it was track, and he still loves running, but with Detroit winters he’s mostly moved on to boxing and tennis. Never yoga, though.

And yeah, he has some reservations, and yeah, it makes him feel their differences. He’s a tad judgemental about the white-owned yoga studios gentrifying the fuck out of his city. Blocks he grew up running in Detroit-propper suddenly got white people eyein’ up his tats and clutching their wallets. And shit, when has yoga ever been for guys like him?

But, life increasingly becomes more complicated.

He can still like that E’s found something that’s for her and he likes the peace it brings her. He appreciates the way it unknots her shoulders, the particular vibe it gives their day afterward when she’s able to let go of some of that stress she carries. He tries to complement it by eating her out and that special type of really good sex that comes from whatever alchemy is between their bodies. And yeah, he likes the headspace it gets her in, how it shifts the way she approaches their work, and the new depth it adds to the way they touch each other when sex isn’t her only form of therapy.

So when she gets a water bottle with the yoga studio’s branding, Rio teases her a bit but he encourages her to go for the membership. Naturally, E being E, it don’t take her long to make nice with the owners. And then Elizabeth comes home excited about how she had just committed to doing a run of the studio’s promotional swag at the store. He and Elizabeth end up with a postcard on their fridge, a color photo of the studio’s abstract mural. The other side has text that advertises an event line up at the studio that includes a fucking “gong-bath”. It takes him a week to let it go.

Actually, he hasn’t. He still brings it up.

But, then a second yoga mat appears -- a green one -- tucked away in the spare bedroom, mostly hidden under some of her crafting materials. He finds it, wonders for a split second why she needs two and has an answering inkling of where this might be going.

The next day, a lil’ custom print for a “partners” yoga event gets pinned next to the first postcard on the fridge.

And like... he loves her and all. But, does it really go that deep?

Rio pauses in front of the fridge, sipping his tea and staring at the picture of a white dude balancing presumably his Black girlfriend in a pose above his head. His eyes track to where Elizabeth sits in the other room knitting and watching the latest episode of her British baking show (he has half the mind to submit her name to the American spin-off). Considering what she’s up to, she sits with her back a lil’ too straight (on edge one might say) clearly waiting for a comment or for him to show her some grace.

And…

Nope. He’s not going to make it that easy for her.

To her credit, after her episode is done, Elizabeth FaceTimes Ruby and asks her first. Then, as if to make a point that she’s rounding out her bases, she calls her sister. And it’s true that Marks’ sisters’ relationship is as close as it's ever been -- their family criming has forced Elizabeth to trust her sister with her life. But, damn, if he knows she don’t trust Annie to do anything remotely acrobatic, much less cartwheel Elizabeth into the air.

He settles at the island in their kitchen with his tea and his work. She’s got the call on speaker in the other room, when Annie asks, “And gang boo?”

“What about him?”

Rio scoffs loud enough to be heard in the other room.

“Why doesn’t he go with you?”

E pauses, probably fiddling with the strand of her knitting yarn on the couch behind him. “It just doesn’t really seem like his thing?”

Annie snorts. “Have you asked him?”

“No,” Elizabeth sighs into the phone, as if she isn’t a few paces away, having a very audible conversation.

“Don’t people usually go with their SO’s to these things? I mean I appreciate that you think I have the upper body strength for this, but you have to know that I will never in my life be able to do a push-up.”

“It was just a thought--”

Annie continues, stuck mid-rant, “And, like there’s no way I can be your counterweight. You have so much more body than me. We’re like completely different proportions. ”

“Well, so are me and Christopher.”

“Yeah, but Christopher actually has body strength. Lots of it. “ Annie retorts. “And he’s going to love you sweaty, and sticking your butt up into the air, bendy and wearing tight clothing--”

He bites at his bottom lip and supposes yeah, he could try it once.

“Okay, fine! I’ll ask him.”

Rio waits for her to come to him as he tries to make headway on his accounting. But, E doesn’t show.

Instead, it comes later -- when they’re in bed. She’s being extra-nice, extra-smiley, and charming, cracking jokes and making him laugh. He hates it except he also loves it -- when she thinks she can get the drop on him like her dumb ass ex-husband. Except, unfortunately for Rio, she really does know her target.

She waits until right after she blows him to ask.

Elizabeth crawls up his spent, panting body, and pins him with hers. She kisses him hotly with her mouth that tastes like his come and he fucking loves when she does that. Then, she retreats to bite playfully at his chin and asks if he’s seen the flyer on the refrigerator.

And he gives her a little shit about it but…

He admires the strategy

------

The couple's yoga class is on a Saturday morning.

It’s the middle of March, and he’s fucking over winter. Detroit, so far from Mexico and so close to being the fucking North Pole.

The temperature means he’s got to get bundled up in sweats, put on his damn parka and snow boots, all to take it back off again when he gets there. Apparently, the studio is heated perennially at 90 degrees. He don’t know how Elizabeth handles it, she’s so bothered by heat. He complains to her, and she reminds him that this is just like when he goes to the gym on his own. Except this time, they’re doing something together. And she’s being all shy in a way she usually isn’t any more around him and she’s fuckin’ happy he’s coming with her.

The night before she had presented the green mat to him. He had said “Thank you” como su mamá lo enseño, and committed to stepping outside of his comfort zone.

“Show me how this goes, darlin’?”

Elizabeth had swelled up with the thrill of explaining something to him, and launched into it, “Yoga’s basis is breathing…”

She had given him the low-down and gotten him started in the basic poses. He liked her hands, soft, and prim and careful, pushing and pulling at him and adjusting his posture. He had ended up fucking her on the mat -- as a proper thank you and to give her a little something to think about in class tomorrow as they contort their bodies in a way she’s adamant is not meant to be sexual.

And he’s not trying to be a dick or ruin the day for her, but he’s dragging his feet a little bit. He don’t really want to be spending his morning off, kid-less, in a room focusing on his breathing surrounded by crunchy, white gentrifiers.

And he might be simmering a choice comment about how it’s ironic that she wants him to focus on his breathing after she was the one who fucking shot him in the lung that one time...

But, he knows she’s not thinking of it like that and he knows if he just told it to her she’d get it. But, he don’t want to make it all about him and the struggle... and he’s rich now ain’t he? And Elizabeth’s excited to have him with her while she does her thing, excited to show him off -- and that gives him enough energy to walk through the door, green mat under one arm, and her hand in his.

Immediately, they’re ensconced in a wave of warmth as they step into the heated studio, and there’s an earthy smell hitting him strong. He zeroes in on the incense lit at the check-in counter and Rio’s nose wrinkles in distaste on its own accord.

Elizabeth squeezes her hand, in a silent reprimand. Behave. Then, she moves around the counter to hug some of the people hanging out back there.

There’s a flurry of introductions, a Bridgid, a Cassandra, Bryce, Patsy, and Tiffany. Tiffany is Black and he thinks Cassandra could be Latina… He ain’t sure. They’re all revealed to be instructors or staff of some kind and E seems to be chummy with all of them. He knows Tiffany is her favorite and will move heaven and hell (and their fucking drop schedule) to make it to class with her.

He isn’t sure exactly why so many of them are but apparently, they like to hang out here? His palms itch and he feels the sweat start to drip under his thick jacket.

E starts to pull off her winter clothes, as she lingers in conversation with Tiffany, asking her about her husband and how Tiffany’s weight training is going. He blinks at his girl and the shit she can pull out of her repertoire.

“I’m so glad you get to finally meet Christopher.”

Tiffany turns to smile wide at him. “Beth has made so much progress in the past few months.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” and she’s got a friendly vibe so he tries to dial up the charm. Smiling, and playing the proper beau, “She talks about y’all all the time.”

Behind them, he clocks that instructor, Brad or Bryce, checking out Elizabeth’s ass when she ain’t looking. And sure he’s about Rio’s height and got some definition on his abs, but his jaw’s too square like it’s never taken a hit, his muscles never used in a fight.

Rio snags the eyes of some chicks looking at him a little too eager. Damn, it’s Saturday morning and these people need to chill.

And he rolls his eyes, tsking, then steps closer and loops a hand around Elizabeth’s waist, drops it down to her ass for a moment. He makes a show of leaving a kiss against her temple and then he bounds towards the cubbies, ready to shed some clothes. His jacket is about to kill him.

As he peels off of the layers, he looks around, and okay -- it’s not as white as he worried it was. There’s other POC settling in for the class, at least one other interracial couple, too. And that Cassandra chick’s sweatshirt says “Chingona AF’ on the back. She’s the same shade of light brown as him, a mid-30s willowy mujer with a queer buzzcut.

He loosens up a bit and settles into the space. This heated shit is nice.

A few moments later, Elizabeth joins him and after they’re done tucking their stuff away, she draws him over to her favorite corner. They roll out their mats -- purple and green -- side-by-side.

They settle on their respective mats and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times and then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

And to top it all off, the 90-degree heat is already working some kind of magic on the knot he’s been trying to get out of his shoulder for the past two weeks.

He smiles back at her.

“This shit is dope.”

“Yeah?”

He shrugs, playful. “I like the heat.”

She scoffs, still smiling, “Of course, you do. I thought I was going to pass out the first time I came.” He laughs and tallies a point. He called it. E shakes her head, “I had never sweat so much in my life.”

And it goes like that.

Right as class starts, a white guy with dreads and his skinny, blond girlfriend settle in the space next to them. The white dude turns to nod in acknowledgment, but his eyes drop down to take the ink at Rio’s throat. He tries to be subtle about it but he and the girl scoot a few inches away.

And he ain’t even seen all the old bullet wounds yet.

Rio turns to look at Beth. She’s also staring at the couple, her mouth settled in a thin line.

Then she meets his gaze.

One of the instructors starts calling the group in, welcoming them to class, and Elizabeth takes the last opportunity to gently careen into his side, and kiss him deeply.

Then she's back on her mat, listening attentively to the instructor like she didn’t just start some shit.

And yeah-- he and Elizabeth are different. They move through space differently, and she has access to things he never will no matter all the gems, rubies and diamonds, Mercedes and stacks he adds to his hoard of wealth, And Rio has wondered, worried, if there will ever be a day when they look at each other and decide they don’t fit anymore.

But, damn if she don’t make him feel alive like nothing else.

So as the instructor has them sit back-to-back and leads them through an opening meditation. It’s corny as shit and formal meditation is not really his thing, always having relied on sports (and fights and hits) as a substitute in the past.

But, he tries to settle here, in this room warm like a blanket, next to Elizabeth.

The class itself is pretty fun. The instructors are hands-on, demonstrating, and walking them through everything. It’s easy enough to pick up with them (and Elizabeth) giving him adjustments, and he likes the excuse to get his hands on her in a different kind of way.

He helps Elizabeth through some inversions, smirking down at her with this particular view of her cleavage. She gets a few, sneaky passes at him, and he don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling surrounded by a room of people, and a whole team of instructors circling them.

In one particularly nice sequence, Rio curls down into the mat in the child’s pose, Elizabeth had shown him as she stretches on top of him, her whole weight settling along him like a cocoon.

Damn, he’s going to make them take another class like this ain’t he?

The class eventually shifts into what the teachers call aerials.

He lays on his back and lofting E up into the air over him. It takes a little finagling to fully adjust to the distribution of her weight, she’s obviously top-heavy. He stares up at her -- her gorgeous, sweaty face smiling down at him -- and looks over the particular arc of her cleavage. And despite how much time he spends palming at Elizabeth’s tits, he underestimates how much they must hurt her back.

No wonder she needs this shit.

‘Course that’s when Bryce or Blake comes over to “check on their form” and is this guy really going to try to check out his girl’s ass again? Right, the fuck now?

Blake/Bryce pushes at Elizabeth’s shoulders trying to adjust her position and she maintains very apologetic eye contact with Rio. Huh. So, she’s aware.

Then, It all happens real fast. Her balance shifts and her hand, sweaty with the heat, slips across his palm and out of his grasp.

The realization hits him-- She’s gonna fall.

And for a brief, terrible moment, her face freezes above him skewed with panic and fear, and then, as if in slow motion, she floats closer, down to earth.

And he knows better. He fucking knows better from all his fucking years of boxing, the previously-mentioned lifetime of playing sports. But he clenches his damn, fucking jaw just as the crown of her head collides with him.

And there’s a sharp, bolt of pain spearing through his chin.

And in this room, this heated blanket, incense-burning, crunchy, granola room…

He’s knocked the fuck out.

-----

Well, then it’s a fucking show.

In the familiarity of Elizabeth walking into the studio, they hadn’t asked him to sign a liability waiver. Someone procures ice, and he cradles it to his chin as Bryce apologizes and asks if he can call an ambulance.

For a concussion.

And he’s pissed the fuck off but it’s still kind of funny? Because the only thing that had ever put him in a hospital had actually been this girl standing next to him (tal pesadilla when she put three slugs in his chest). But, he has to stop laughin’ because it hurts his jaw and they’re all looking at him like he’s nuts.

Elizabeth grips his free hand like a vice, and he’s nursing a hell of a headache, as he has to swear a million times that he ain’t gonna sue anyone. Then, finally, blessedly, they’re allowed to walk out.

Elizabeth insists on helping him into the car. Tiffany and Cassandra accompany them, helping Elizabeth carry all of their shit.

They stand at the curb watching, concern etched on their faces as Elizabeth reverses out of the snowbank and drives off. And Elizabeth drives because he most definitely has a concussion. And she drives them straight to the fucking ER.

They spend half an hour fighting parked in the lot outside. But, he knows concussions and he knows his limits.

He convinces her to take him home.

-----

The first twenty-four hours of the concussion are the most important. He’s not supposed to look at screens, not supposed to work. He knows his shit but Elizabeth reads at least ten internet articles on her phone as she lies in bed curled next to him.

They spend the childless afternoon with the curtains drawn, lying in their bed, not fucking.

But, the cuddling is good, too.

Elizabeth strokes up and down his arm and talks to him about little nothings to keep him company. She periodically gets up to grab him glasses of water and more ice. And this sucks, but all things considered, this might be the nicest concussion he’s ever had.

Eventually, they wander to the kitchen to figure out food.

Elizabeth pauses staring vacantly at the fridge. Then her shoulders start to shake, and now he’s wondering if she’s okay. But, her hand raises to unpin the flyer from the fridge and he hears the first snicker.

She turns to him, laughter breaking across her face, pointing to that ridiculous picture. He knows enough now to recognize Tiffany lofted in that showy, stupid af aerial pose.

He chuckles and then cringes as the pain at his chin flairs.

Elizabeth pouts but is still laughing to herself. She ambles over to him, wraps her arms loosely around his middle, and lays the softest kiss on his chin.

“I’m sorry, Christopher.”

He shakes his head, just a smidge because movement fucking sucks right now. “It ain’t your fault.”

“It was my idea.”

“It’s okay.”

She curls into him, deflating, crumbling the flyer into her fist. He gingerly rests his head on top of hers.

“I liked it.” He admits.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” The smell of her lavender-shampoo drifts into his orbit. “Liked you curled all around me. Liked touching you like that. Gave me some ideas.”

She nods below him, pulling him tighter. “I liked it, too.”

“You’ve gotten so strong now, Elizabeth.” He kisses her at her temple. “Maybe next time you should do all the lifting.”

She pinches him at the ribs. Then, “Next time?”

“I’ll tell you what.” He shifts back to make eye contact with her. “We get to do a whole lot of private practice.” He gives her a look to make it clear exactly what he means -- sex. “Then, we’re gonna go back and make sure Bryce is really sorry, ‘kay? Make sure he knows I’m still around.”

And Elizabeth beams that crooked little smile at him.

“Okay, but the next time you have to give me your hoodie or something.”

He nods, a smidge but still manages to imbue it with sage, territorial wisdom. “That would help.”

“Well, I meant more for me to...” She looks at him, eyes darting. “Claim you.”

I mean he is living for that but he frowns at her. “But, everyone there was a couple.”

Oh. Oh yes. Now he remembers.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “And I don’t share.”

Her hand drifts low on his back, then lower to curl a firm grip on his ass in the privacy of this home that they share.

Unfortunately, despite all this time, Elizabeth still doesn’t know when to quit when she’s ahead.

“Though, honestly, I don’t know why they kept staring at your butt.” She murmurs, sassing him while he’s down. “There’s nothing here.”

Esta pinche mujer. She’s lucky he loves her.

Fuckin’ adores her, really.

Damn.

#my writing #i have got to stop listening to the weeknd #i blame a choice few in the fandom #beth x rio #brio #nbc good girls #ahhhhhhhhh #please don't hate my soft!Rio

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wildlittlefoxsworld · 5 years ago

Text

Matchmakers (Part 1) | The Old Guard | Booker x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has a friend with benefits in London, but secretly likes Booker. Reader's friend has no time for her, but she's stressed and frustrated. Nicky and Joe know that Booker likes her too, and decided to help the Reader.

Warnings: sexual frustrated!reader, friends with benefits, misunderstandings, anxious feelings

Words: 1.9 k +

Second part

Masterlist

***

You sat on the dining table with your face in your hands in the little cottage near Rome that was owned by Joe and Nicky. You all came here after you had a mission that went well, but you were all really exhausted afterwards. Originally you wanted to stay here for a week and then leave to visit an old friend of you in London, it was still possible for you to have contact to your friends, you weren’t so old, but you were sure it could be only for one or two more years before they would notice that you weren’t aging. But now you were here for thirteen days already, because your friend was on sudden business trip and you had no other place to go.

But that wasn’t the reason you sat on the dining table with fingers in your hair and pulling on the roots a little rougher while you groaned loudly.

“What’s the matter, principessa?” You heard Nicky’s voice and flinched when he sat down next to you on the table. You weren’t aware that he entered the room and you lifted your head lazily.

“You seem very frustrated about something. Do you want to talk about it?” Nicky considered and you frowned. Nicky had a good knowledge of human nature and you weren’t in the mood to talk about your problems, so you just shrugged and your head sink down on the surface of the table.

“Maybe I can help?” Nicky suggested and you shook your head.

“No one could help me,” you muttered.

Nicky laughed about your answer. “For every problem there is a solution. But when you need help, you should tell someone if you want to solve the problem.”

You groaned again. “And how do you want to help me?” you snapped and felt instantly bad to get shirty with him. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s okay. I could search Andy, maybe it’s easier for you to talk to her,” Nicky continued to make suggestions and you burst out laughing in disbelief.

“Andy would tell me to stick myself together. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Then I would rather talk to you.”

“Why don’t you do it then?” Nicky smiled encouraging and you sighed.

“I can’t… it’s embarrassing,” you whispered and you didn’t dare to look in his eyes. He would probably laugh about it.

“Well, I’m sure I heard worse,” Nicky replied seriously with a sly smile. “Come on, Y/N, or I have to guess. I have a clue. You don’t need to be afraid; I’m not going to tell anyone, not even Joe.”

“What you aren’t going to tell me? You have secrets from me, my love?” Joe said playfully pouting from behind you and you groaned a third time burying your face in your hands.

“Is she okay?” Joe asked Nicky worriedly and you heard him moving a chair. He sat down and took Nicky’s hand in his.

“I’m not sure, amore mio, she doesn’t want to tell,” Nicky explained with a still serious voice.

“I’m still here, no need to talk in third person about me,” you grumbled and leaned back with crossed arms over your chest.

Joe laughed and tried to hide it as he clasped a hand over his mouth. “Why are you so mad? Is it your time of the month? Or what is wrong?”

You scrunched your face up in annoyance and turned your head away. “Stop your churlishness,” Nicky scolded him and bopped him playfully. “That’s a delicate topic.”

“Y/N, just tell us and we search for a solution or I just say what I think your problem is.” Nicky was giving you a last chance and you shook your head.

“I can’t be that worse. We can help out in every aspect. We are family, Y/N, we are there for each other,” Joe assured you, but you ignored him and made a huffing noise. You weren't mad with them, you were mad about yourself.

Joe looked helplessly to Nicky and you interpreted Nicky’s gaze, you were in a trap. He wouldn’t let go and you will feel embarrassed for the rest of your immortal life.

“Don’t worry, Joe, you didn’t say anything wrong. I think she’s simply sexual frustrated. I assume your friend in London is the reason for this dilemma and I know he’s too busy to spend time with you,” Nicky deadpanned and your eyes widened in shock. He was good, a good observer and you were trapped. Well, you could always leave, but he wouldn’t stop worrying about you. Nicky didn’t want to be mean or to offend you, but it was still awkward.

“That’s all?” Joe asked confused. “Well, you could visit him when he has free time again or just pick someone in a bar near here. The language shouldn’t be the problem.”

“I don’t like one-night stands,” you answered Joe back and didn’t want to meet his gaze. “Now the cat is out of the bag, but do we really need to talk about it?”

“We don’t have to, but you’re stressed and that isn’t healthy. You need something to release your stress. Did you try something else than sex? Boxing with a sandbag? Running?” Nicky proposed gently and you sighed again.

“I went yesterday and today for a one and a half hour run, but I don’t feel better.” You shrugged again and twirled a strain of your hair between your thumb and forefinger.

Nicky and Joe exchanged looks and you knitted your brow. “What do you have in mind?”

It wasn’t the way you thought the day would go. You talked two hours ago with your friend from London and he would be back on Saturday and you planned to take a flight on the same day. But until then you needed to survive four more days and you didn’t have an idea how to do this.

“Well, principessa, if sports don’t help and you don’t want to be with a stranger, your friend isn’t available anyway; you should maybe spend time with someone you know already.”

You were taken aback for a second and then you shook your head in disbelief. “And who? My only friend with whom this kind of arrangement is possible lives in London. My other friends are female or married.”

Nicky smiled conspiratorial and you quirked an eyebrow. You held your breath and braised yourself for what Nicky was going to say. You hoped he wouldn’t suggest that you should spend some time with Joe and him, because it would be very weird. You wouldn’t agree with this.

“Don’t panic, Y/N. I know you have a little crush, we saw your lingering and admiring gaze,” Joe explained with a mocking tone. But you panicked and whimpered a little. That couldn’t be true. Did they really think you have a crush on them? You couldn’t tell. Yes, you knew them for a while now, but you couldn’t figure out. You gulped nervously and looked at them, expecting the worst.

“I can assure you that your feelings are returned from your crush,” Nicky said with a smile.

“I hope we’re talking about the same person. Yes, I can’t deny that I have a crush on someone, but…” Your voice broke at the end and you bit your lip agitated. Nicky watched you and he noticed that you didn’t feel well with the conversation. He admitted that their words were mysterious and that it made you only confused.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought it was obvious… I mean Booker,” Nicky explained hastily and your head fell forwards in relief, placing your hand above your heart.

“Oh god, I thought for the past minutes you meant yourselves,” you responded and laughed assuaged.

“With all my respect for you, I see you as a sister. I love you dearly, Y/N, but my heart only belongs to Joe.”

You nodded in agreement. “That would’ve been so weird.”

“Yeah, we're family, but there we make a boundary,” Joe chuckled and the mood lightened up slightly.

You were so anxious the whole time that you didn't realize what Nicky had told you about the feelings of your crush. “Were you serious? When you told me about… about… Booker's feelings for me. Why are you sure that he does like me?”

Nicky inclined his head and smirked. “He told me.”

“What?… When?… I mean he really told you that…,” you stuttered and couldn't believe his words, yet you knew he wouldn't lie to you.

“Booker… he got very upset… two months ago. That was last time when you left to visit your friend in London. He spoke about how you always run into your lover's arms and someday he will break your heart, because he grow old and you will be always young.”

“He isn't my lover or my boyfriend, we are just friends that, well, you know,” you clarified and Nicky nodded.

“We told him that you aren't in a relationship with him and then Booker said that your friend doesn't derserve you. It was impossible to imagine for Booker how your friend couldn't love you. And he said that he can treat you better, that you deserved to be loved.”

You were shocked and overwhelmed with emotions, to hear those words about Booker's feelings for you. He didn't just like you, he was in love with you, at least you hoped for it. You never imagined that he would return your feelings and you never noticed any sings that he felt mutual.

“Booker really cares about you,” Joe mentioned with a honest gaze to you. “I watched him the last eight weeks. On every mission he was close to you, he protected and always checked first on you. Also at home, he took care of you, looked after of you and tried to spend more time with you. I'm sure you're his priority.”

You got tears in your eyes and they rolled down your cheeks, angrily you wiped them away. You felt stupid that you wasted so much time in London, you could have something so much better.

“I understand why he never said something. I assume he thought that I'm not intersted in him, because I travelled so often to London. I didn't even see that he wanted to spend more time with me. I just thought he wanted to be nice…”

Nicky and Joe simply nodded and Nicky gave you a tissue for the tears.

“What should I supposed to do now?” You mumbled crestfallen and took a deep breath.

“Of course you should tell him!” Nicky exclaimed

“If it's not too late. He could reject me,” you complated the possibility he couldn't want you.

“You will never know if you don't try it,” Joe said convincing. You kne he was right and you nodded nervously.

“Where is he?”

“In the living room working on his laptop,” Nicky answered smiling and nodded towards the hallway that leaded in the living room.

Now or never, you told yourself.

***

What do you think?

#the old guard #the old guard x reader #the old guard fanfic #the old guard booker #sebastien le livre #sebastien le livre x reader #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani

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pascal-istheway · 4 years ago

Text

Deep Water - Chapter 5

Originally posted by essenceanddescent

Read it here on Ao3!

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Warnings: NSFW, smut

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Tags: Smut, NSFW, PTSD, Sex

Word Count: 6.6k

Two Months Later

Your brother had texted you to come over, didn’t really give you much of an explanation as to why but just said the door was unlocked and that you should just come in when you were here. You’d parked in your usual spot out in front of his house, looking out the passenger window up at the small white farmhouse set back from the street. His truck sat in the driveway where it usually did so you assumed he was home.

“Ready to go see Uncle Santi?” you turned back and looked at your bubbly daughter who was giggling back at you as she nodded furiously. She loved her uncle as he loved her - unconditionally.

“Alright let’s go!” you climbed out, grabbing a small bag of her things and then grabbing her from her car seat and tucking her on your hip, planting a small kiss on her forehead as she tucked her head under your chin.

His lawn was freshly mowed, garden pruned, and trimmed. You’d always admired the dedication and care he took to his yard. Wishing you or Frankie had the time to spruce up the front of your own home like this.

You trudge up the front steps and knock on the door, bouncing Isabelle on your hip to shift her higher. No answer, not that you were surprised. He probably couldn’t hear you.

“Santi! You home?” you knock on the door again, knowing he damn well is home since his car is out front. You can barely hear the music coming from the backyard, but it’s enough of a warning that he’s probably not alone. “Santiagooo!” you call in a sing-song voice that makes your daughter giggle in your arms.

The door opens easily as you carry your daughter through the house in search of your brother only to find him and Frankie sitting on the back deck talking. Your feet stop you as you stand there in the kitchen, watching them sit and pass a bottle back and forth between them while they talk. He looks awful, distraught, exhausted. Honestly, he looks how you feel - miserable.

Frankie was normally full of life and laughter so the last few months have been odd that the two of you haven’t been able to move past the night you asked for space. You couldn’t look at him when the words had come from your lips, perhaps out of fear for his reaction, or maybe just that one look at him and you would change your mind and jump into his arms, begging him to forgive you for being so foolish.

Either way, it had been said, and you got what you wanted without a fight. Part of the reason you had asked for space in the first place - there was no fight left in him. He didn’t want you anymore, seemed not to want this marriage anymore even. He had just given up completely on you. And it was so frustrating because you just didn’t know how to communicate properly what was happening to you. You were so trapped inside your own head, drowning in your own trauma and you desperately needed him to hold your hand and pull you to the surface.

So space, you had decided, was the best route. You’d do it on your own. You went back to therapy, found someone who was actually really wonderful, and had slowly begun to heal and process the trauma. The cloudiness was draining from behind your tired eyes. You just wished Frankie was around to see it.

Instead, your schedules rotated around each other. He would avoid you, give you the space you needed. You ate separately, didn’t even use the same bathroom in the house anymore. It was like he was a roommate when he moved into the guest room. You cried yourself to sleep for almost two weeks when he actually did what you’d asked without any hesitation. Your therapist had told you though, that it was you that had asked, and he was just respecting your wishes. If you didn’t actually want space, you’d have to speak up and tell him.

A soft cough brings you back to the two men outside lost in deep conversation. Your name is mentioned and it makes you pause, shifting Isabelle from one hip to the other and listen. It’s not like you to eavesdrop, but considering the situation, you don’t want to interrupt what seems like such an important conversation.

You watch Frankie as he finishes the last of the amber drink in the whiskey bottle, setting it aside. He never gets this drunk or at least you’d never known him to get like this. Seeing him in this state, the echo of sadness in his constricted voice as he speaks, it’s the first crack around your heart that you never even saw coming.

He sniffles and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, “I just know I fucked all of this up man and I don’t know how to fix it? She will always hate me.”

“Look, I know my sister has been through some nasty shit, we all have. And with Isabelle and Tom and everything that happened over there… she’s not like us, she can’t just push things away. When she feels things, she feels them with all of herself. It’s something that’s a gift and a curse I guess,” Santiago handed him another beer from the cooler between them.

“I just can’t help but feel like she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I moved to the guest room because she said she needed space,” his voice was breaking you. “That was like two months ago dude. I can’t sleep without her there next to me, I don’t care if there’s a mile between us in the bed, I need her there, just to listen to her breathe, to know she’s there.”

Santiago nodded, processing the drunken admission from your husband. “Have you tried actually telling her how you feel? Like being honest and saying how fucked up we all were from that trip?” your brother asked casually. “None of us were ok after that. And you had just gotten in the shit with work when I asked you to come, so you had double the shit going on.”

The fact was he hadn’t. You had gone through this awful traumatic experience and Frankie had pushed things away like he always did when he came back from any mission. It’s what he was trained to do - what the military trained him to do. You don’t talk about things, you just shove it down and move on.

Santi was right though about you. You were different from the rest of the guys. Even if you’d been able to “ push things away” it wouldn’t have mattered. You feel everything so deeply and passionately. You experience every moment at one hundred and fifty percent. There was no halfway point with you. And it wasn’t always a bad thing either.

Like when Frankie took you to Arizona on that vacation before Isabelle was born and you saw the Milkyway over the mountains for the first time, it made you cry. Or when you saw a group of ducklings trying to cross the street and one got left behind and you just had to help rescue him. Or how every year you hold a fundraiser for the turtles and get so sad reading about how not all of them make it to the sea each year.

You feel things in every fiber of your being. It’s one of the things Frankie loves about you. He loves seeing your eyes light up when you see a dog or when you get to do a story on something light and fluffy. But he also loved your intensity about life. Your ferociousness for the ones you loved. The fire you had… the one that Lorea dampened.

“Not really. I guess,” he swallowed around a lump in his throat, “I guess I just didn’t realize how much worse it was for her. I mean I know things were scary and awful, but when we got to Lorea’s house and I saw her there on that dirty mattress, half naked and scared for her life,” he paused, swallowing hard and taking a shaky breath, “something broke inside me, Pope. She’s my entire life. She always will be. My life begins and ends with her and when we got back, it was like every time I tried to touch her, she was just so afraid of me. It made me hate myself because even though she was my reason for living, I couldn’t be hers. I wasn’t strong enough to be hers,” he let out a strangled sob and the sound completely shattered any resolve you thought you had.

Your brother put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “you have to talk to her, you guys have to work this out. Not just because you’re my best friend and she’s my sister, but because you two are actually soul mates. You both just have very fucked up souls right now and that’s ok. You’ll find a way back to each other…” he hoped you would at least.

“I can’t breathe without her, Pope. I can’t function without her in my life. She once said we were just existing for Isabelle’s sake but fuck, I can’t do that. I exist for both of them. They are my only reason for existing…” he trailed off, drunkenly taking a swig of his drink.

His admissions were too much for your heart to hear, it was all too much. You had your own tears streaming down your face, makeup streaking your cheeks as you rushed back around through the kitchen. Your bag bumped into something on the counter as you turned sharply and it fell, shattering on the ground at your feet. The glass shards surround your feet and you just stand there a moment, stunned and unable to move.

Both men jumped at the noise, their training and instincts kicking in as they rushed in to see you standing there with a squirming Izzy in your arms, looking tired and broken. Frankie didn’t need to ask to know if you’d heard what he and your brother were talking about, he could see on your face that you knew what he felt, what he had said. And in some ways, his heart jumped and cheered that you knew how he was feeling. That he didn’t actually have to have this conversation with you face to face. But part of that thought made him feel shitty because he knew he owed you better than that.

“Baby…” he whispered at the same time Pope reached out for Isabelle and said, “don’t move. Frankie, the glass?” and pointed at the glass at your feet.

Frankie looked down at the shattered mess and suddenly kicked into overdrive, “oh fuck… baby, don’t move,” he frantically searched for a broom to sweep up the mess as you stood there, tears leaking from your eyes as your heart shattered like the glass on the floor from the conversation you heard.

Your brother just stood there and watched you, “I put Izz in the playpen, here,” he grabbed the bag off your shoulder, “let me take the bag… you don’t have to cry, it’s just a cup, it’ll be fine.” He was looking at you with a confused look. Ok so maybe he hadn’t seen you standing there listening to Frankie spill his guts about how he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you. How he felt that he failed you.

It was hitting you like a freight train, how all of these months, you two were dancing around each other not talking, when one simple conversation could’ve cleared everything up. He thought you hated him. And why shouldn’t he? You didn’t give him any reason to think otherwise. When in reality, you loathed yourself.

For agreeing to that stupid fucking trip, for begging your crew to go with you and getting them all killed. Frankie thought you were scared of him when in reality you just couldn’t get Lorea off your skin. It had been months and you still never felt clean enough.

Your therapist had been helpful, breaking things down for you and helping you start to heal. But they never prepared you for this. For the possibility that you had been wrong about Frankie. All this time you thought he was ready to leave, to jump ship. He was done with trying to fix you, or waiting for you to fix yourself. He had given up. And it’s what you deserved after what you did to all those innocent people.

The damn broke all at once in Pope’s kitchen, both men standing there as you completely lost it. Hysterical sobs tore through your chest, your hand reaching out towards Frankie as you step towards him, knees collapsing. He caught you like you knew he would. He would always catch you in the end. He loves you.

“F-Frankie…” you sob into his chest, “oh god, I was so… so wrong,” you say between sobs.

Pope just stands there, shaking his head and shrugging at Frankie in confusion. They both share that same familiar unspoken communication as Santi leaves to go play with his niece while you and Frankie attempt to fix what you broke.

You lay there together on your brother's kitchen floor and cry into his chest, Frankie whispering soothing words of love and comfort into your hair which of course just makes you cry harder. He finally shifts, his body becoming uncomfortable underneath you and you realize you’ve been crushing his legs and sit up and wipe your eyes.

“Oh my god, baby I’m so sorry, fuck,” you pull away, wiping your face, “god, don’t look at me,” pushing back you attempt to sit up. He pulls you to him and takes your face in his hands, his own eyes red and rimmed with wet tears.

“Sunshine, what’s going on?” his thumbs swipe at your drying cheeks, pushing away the stray tears.

“Frankie,” your hands come up and cover his own as you rest your forehead against his, breathing in the man your heart has been aching for. “I’ve been so foolish, Frankie,” you admit, pulling back to look at him, and really look at him.

“No, baby, no. You…” he pauses, swallowing the lump in his own throat, “you needed what you needed,” his brows furrowed as he nods, as if he’s accepting the words all over again. I need space.

“I…” you hesitate, unsure if you should admit you overheard him and Santi outside. You have to fix this. For your own sanity, fuck, for Frankie’s sanity. “I heard you guys talking outside.”

It comes out in a whisper. Barely an acknowledgment of how dirty you feel for listening in to their private conversation. But if you hadn’t heard him admit his own truths, would you ever have known? Would you have just continued along this path of self-torture?

Afraid to look at him and see the hurt on his face, you turn your head and look away, tears starting again. Instead, he pulls your head back to face him as he wipes them away and whispers, “I love you, now, before, always. That will never change. ” His voice is tight and hurting but it’s ringing true. He loves you.

You choke out a half-laugh, half sob. He loves you. “I love you, fucking god, Frankie I love you,” your arms wrap around his neck. He stands, lifting you with him and pulling you to your feet, and dragging you towards the door.

“Pope, watch Izzy for a few hours for us?” he throws over his shoulder as he yanks you out the door towards your car, your brother watching from the door shaking his head with a grin on his face.

He throws open the car door and looks at you to get into the car as you toss him the keys over the roof, his hand reaching out last minute to catch them in mid-air. You speed off together down the road, the three minutes to your house feeling like an eternity but when he pulls up into your driveway and you both eventually find yourself standing there in front of each other in your own bedroom again. The same place where things fell apart.

“We don’t have to do this, we can just talk …” he whispered behind you, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck.

“There will be time for talking,” you turn, your hands slowly reaching out to touch him but just missing the mark. You pull your fingers back as if he’s made from fire and you don’t want to be burned.

His eyes never leave you as he waits patiently for you to tell him what you need. It’s torture. He can almost taste your skin, feel your lips on his… “I miss you,” he whispers, breaking the mesmerizing trance you seemed to be in.

Your eyes meet his, the deep warm pools of brown and gold draw you closer in ways you’d missed. You can’t even imagine what your life would’ve been like if you’d never been able to look into them again. It almost makes you want to scream to think how stupid you’d been.

“I don’t want to waste any more time without you, Frankie,” you admit, moving a step closer. “I’ve waisted the last two months being so fucking foolish, I can’t…” you swallow back around the burning lump that’s grown in your throat, “I can’t live without you.” you choke out.

“I never left you, querida,” his hand came up to your face and brushed a few stray hairs from your cheek, “I will never leave, I’m right where I’ve always been. I’ll always wait for you,” he leaned forward, breath mixing with yours.

You waited for it, the kiss that would take you back in time to that moment on the beach, to the first time in your apartment, to your wedding day, to every single moment in between, but it never came. You open your eyes and see him looking at you, waiting for you to close the gap.

He was waiting for you. He will always wait for you…

You leap forward, pressing your lips into his with a ferocious hunger that only he can satisfy. Frankie surges forward, lips crashing against yours, a brutal charge that takes you by surprise and you taste the desperation, the pent-up anxiety warring inside him as his tongue slips into your mouth with a low pained growl. His chest heaving as his arms reach down and grasp under your thighs, pulling you into his arms, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist as he lifts you off the ground and carries you towards your bed.

Despite the rushedness, the clumsy force of it, your nerves sing with the relief that floods your veins at the familiar taste of him. You missed him with every fiber of your being. And kissing him felt like coming home, over and over again. Frankie felt the same, completely lost within you.

Pushing you back as he moves forward in the eagerness of it all. The force of it knocks your head against the headboard and you hear it more than you feel the collision, not even registering the blunt pain until you hear the panic in Frankie’s voice.

“Fuck! Baby, I’m so sorry!” his hand comes to pull your head back, and you just giggle, mostly with nerves but also with the pure teenage lust you both have at the moment.

“Frankie, it’s fine,” you grasp him by the shirt and pull him down, “don’t stop.”

Your lips press forward again to meet his, this time it’s more calculated, more focused. Slower and passionate. Filled with promises of making things up to each other for the rest of your lives.

“Querida, you’re s’so soft. Jesus Christ, I missed your skin.”

It’s so stupid, it almost makes you want to cry. Now, when you hear the hushed pleas of him against the shell of your ear, it is so obvious just how unwavering he is in his affection. How patiently he’s waited for you to be ready for him again. You just refused to hear and see it. You couldn’t admit that he had tried, in his own ways, in the beginning, to be there, but things were just so raw that you weren’t able to differentiate between your husband and Lorea.

Sensing where your mind was going, his lips pull away from you as he mouthed at your ear. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Frankie asks, the lingering trace of doubt that you might change your mind still there; worried you’d bite his hand if he so much as reached for you. He couldn’t risk losing you again.

Taking his hand in yours, you guide it down between your legs, beneath your thin sundress, skirting the edge of your underwear until he feels the damp spot outside of them. “Do you feel that,” you ask him in a pained whisper, “just how much I want you?”

You can see the exact moment his pupils widen, a low feral moan emitting from deep in his chest and you think you can see the moment that his mind snaps into a different setting, the way that soft brown gaze darkens. His lips find yours again, groans escaping as his teeth nip and pull at your bottom lip.

“Take them off,” he commands. It’s not an ask, not a suggestion, it’s a command.

You smirk, remembering this side of Frankie. This possessive and demanding side. You play with the hem of your dress, teasing him painfully as you stand at the edge of the bed and push him onto his back so you’re standing over him as you slowly lift the fabric over your body. Your legs part just enough for him to see between them, the cotton still covering your sweetest spot that Frankie is so desperate to taste.

He kicks off his own clothes, leaving him in nothing but his briefs to watch you toy with him as you shake your hips from side to side in front of his long legs.

“Enough of that, get over here,” he reaches out for you, one hand taking your wrist and pulling you to straddle over his legs. You climb on top of his hips, feeling the hard length beneath you and grind down on top of him.

A moan escapes your lips, “please Frankie,” you beg. His thumb strokes the outside of your panties, letting your moisture soak through them.

“You look so good like this baby,” he moans, “fuck, just like this. On top of me, looking down at me, just like this,” he sits up so your noses touch and brings his lips to yours, kissing you madly.

“Do you have any idea how much I miss being inside you?” he asks, hand still grinding into your now soaked panties. “Any idea at all? That I touch myself thinking about you, knowing you’re laying in here all alone. That you’ve gone all this time without me?” he bites your ear as he groans while you grind down on his hard cock.

His fingers find their way beneath the cotton, slipping into your warmth and coating themselves between your slick folds. A sharm breath hitches in your throat as his finger brushes over that sensitive little nub and your hips buck forward, grinding down on his fingers.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” he says as his mouth travels down your neck, peppering kisses and bites the whole way down.

“I did too… I mean… I, oh fuck…” you grind your hips again on his palm, feeling the sweet release of pleasure against your clit.

“You what?” he slowed his fingers, waiting for your answer.

You let out a whine, frustrated by the sudden lack of movement, “babyyyy,” you groan.

“Tell me. What did you do?” he pulls his head back to look you in the eyes.

“I touched myself. I thought of you and touched myself,” you felt his fingers move again and your eyes practically rolled in your head.

One of his thick fingers finds your entrance and you feel him slowly sliding his finger in, massaging the walls of your cunt. A high pitched cry escapes you as you move your hips on him, bunching your hands in his shirt to pull him closer at the feeling of his fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, Frankie!” You feel his other hand come to your breast and massage, his mouth finding your nipple and taking it between his lips he rolls it to a hard peak.

“Tell me what you did,” he adds another finger, making you clench around him harder.

“I pictured…” you swallow harshly, “oh fuck… I pictured y-your cock,” you admitted.

His fingers curled, reaching the depths of you and stroked the embers that were just about to die out, igniting them with a full force that you could barely tolerate. Your teeth sank into the thread of his shoulder, biting through a sob as he worked you.

“Baby, I’m going to cum if you- oh fuck… if you don’t s-stop i’m gon… gon-a fuck!” your legs began to shake like they always did before you came, his fingers pumping and stroking relentlessly without holding back. Your back arches up into his mouth, body molding to his as your orgasm rips through you and takes hold of you deep within your core.

Fire shoots through your veins, spreading like a wildfire as stars explode behind your eyes, blinding you completely. You close them, hearing Frankie call your name as he begs you to look at him and when you do, you see fear and lust and worry scattered across his face. His lips find yours, “look at me when you cum baby, please, I-” his tongue dances with yours, “I need you to know it’s me… that we are here in this moment together.” He pulls back and searches your face as your hands come up to each side of his jaw, thumbs mindlessly stroking through his patchy beard as a small tear you weren’t even aware of slips from your eye.

“Baby, I’m here, I’m with you,” you whisper, pulling his face down to yours.

You slide your hand down his chest, feeling his fingers still plunged deep within you, and move your fingers with his, stretching yourself out just a little further than you’d ever been before.

“But I need you to fuck me or else I’m going to lose my mind,” you smile seductively.

His cock pulses on your thigh in response, ready and waiting to be brought into action. As he removes his hand, the wet suction of your pussy trying to keep him rooted within you echoes between you. His cock jumps again, begging to be buried inside you.

“Fuck baby, you…. s’so… so perfect.” he can barely speak.

“Frankie, please,” you whine, squirming under him, “fuck me.”

His eyes darken and his tongue darts out over his bottom lip. You lean forward, grasping him in your palm and squeeze, Frankie responding with a sharp hiss as your hand begins pumping his cock at your entrance. Not that he needed the help, he was throbbing, pulse bouncing within him.

In one motion, your legs instinctually wrap around his waist, pulling him in towards you in a desperate attempt to get him inside you. It doesn’t take much though. It’s obvious how much he wants you, how much he needs you .

It’s a magic moment, the one where his eyes lock on to yours, hands wrapping around your face, as he pulls you in close and guides himself to your entrance. He stills, searching your face for the fraction of hesitation from you and it almost breaks you to see him search your features for the evidence that you didn’t want this - that you didn’t want him anymore.

“Baby,” you whisper, “I’m right here,” your hand strokes his hair away from his face, searching his own eyes.

“Do you-” he pauses, stroking your hair back, “do you want this? Are you positive? Because I can always st-” you cut him off with a slow kiss, shuddering into his lips before pulling back and look at his beautiful face, his eyes pinching in concern. “We don’t have to do this, baby….” he whispered. “If you’re not ready…”

“Frankie…” you whisper, feeling how desperate his cock is for you. “I love you. I want you ,” you emphasize. It breaks your heart seeing him like this. Broken after months of you pushing him, distancing yourself in the worst way. The damage was done, and here you both were, falling back together trying to undo the disaster you’d both found yourself in.

He nods, kissing you deeply as he takes your legs and untangles them from around his hips and spreads them against the soft sheets. His cock barely nudging against your cunt, Frankie is barely holding himself together. It’s torture, complete madness for the two of you. And you’d had enough of it.

Grabbing his ass, you pull him in deep towards you, his cock spreading your folds wide as it forces its way into your incredibly tight hole. Your head rolls back and a moan flies out from your mouth as his hips match up with yours.

Frankie’s head flops forward, feeling this overwhelming urge to collapse and explode right then and there. But he doesn’t, he resolves whatever was brewing within himself and he slowly begins to move. Hips driving into you slowly at first but then picking up to a speed that could only be described as destructive .

“How does that feel?” he asks, setting this incredible pace that you almost can’t keep up with.

He pulls out of you almost entirely, only the solid tip of him resting inside you. The thick drag makes you aware of each inch of him, makes you forget how to breathe and from the breath caught in his own throat, you think he is experiencing the exact same thing.

“God, you’re fucking killing me,” he murmurs, brushing his lip over your shoulder, teeth grazing your fevered skin.

It’s almost too much, the feeling of him stretching you, the moans escaping both of you, the sound of skin on skin. It’s enough to make you want to sing out or cry. His hands explore your body, touching you in ways that you’ve been dreaming about the last few months.

“Fu-fuck… fuck, baby… Fran-Frankie…” you can barely get the words out, “ don’tfuckingstopbaby …” you pant. Frankie pulls you up, a sitting position for the two of you so your noses are right together.

“Ride me, baby. Take control… take me ,” he whispers the last part as your hips start a slow-rolling rotation over him, your arms rest over his shoulders, hands messing in his hair, pulling slightly on the messy curls as you grind down on him, sliding his cock in and out of your hole.

“Fuck baby…” you groan out into his ear, teeth scraping against his earlobe.

The pace starts to pick up, your tits bouncing in his face as he takes one in his mouth and starts sucking, teasing, and playing with you. You toss your head back, the feeling overwhelming as he spears you from below.

But it’s almost over before it starts, his hips come to a slowing halt as Frankie pants heavily, his forehead resting against your collarbone and a crease appears between his brows with a pained expression. His shoulders rising and falling with the heavy breath he’s caressing your skin with.

“Frankie, you ok?” you look at him, concerned.

“Yeah, just give me a second, I just… I need to breathe for a minute” he hugs you closer to him with a shaking breath, laughing slightly. It’s hard not to smile at his reaction, to have a man you’ve been with for most of your life so affected by you as if it’s his very first time.

This man was going to be the death of you, the praise slipping out of your lips, how good he is, how amazing he is being, how perfect of a man he is. And you know he needs to hear it almost as much as he loves to hear the praise. Mostly because the way he captures your mouth in an explosive and yet passion-fueled kiss is enough to drive you over the edge.

You move your hips slightly, feeling him treasuring the slow pull of his lips against yours while he’s inside of you. Then Frankie opens his eyes and just looks at you, brown eyes filled with unguarded warmth. It’s like he’s seeing you again for the first time. Like he’s coming home again and again with each thrust. And in a way, he is, because to him, you are home.

Leaning forward, you roll your hips into him, hands braced over the lean muscles of his thighs, appreciatively. A long, filling stroke inside you, before dropping back down to the beautiful sound of Frankie’s strangled moans as you build up the devastating rhythm of his hips meeting yours at every downstroke.

“Cariño, fuck… are you close?” It’s a rasped ask, and his lips fall to your breast, to the spot right above where your heart is thumping hard and fast. You nod, feeling his hands wrap around your body as he brings you back, moving you in sync together. His thighs flex as he pushes up firmly, causing you to fall forward and cling to his shoulders from the sheer force of his thrusts.

The damp curls from his lower stomach, leading to where you are joined glistens with your arousal as you rock your hips over him, moaning his name into his ear. There’s only the sensation of Frankie completely filling you, the hard thickness of him, and how much you’ve missed this as it takes away the aching emptiness inside you. It’s becoming impossible to have a single coherent thought anymore.

“God... I, fuck.. J’just like that… f-fu” he can barely speak as he thrusts. “S’so perfe-ct,” his body working in slow movements as he starts but then he starts to pick up the pace, moving quicker and quicker, bodies moving together in sync.

You hear skin against skin echoing in your room, the sound of being fucked properly as he grunts and groans through each thrust. He pins your legs open, taking one hand and rubbing his thumb against your bundle of nerves making your head flop back, your fingers sharply digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck - this… this what you needed?” he wheezes, his pace turning ferocious. “I know you needed this, little bird.” he can barely breathe he’s fucking you at such a fast pace. All you can hear is your own screams mixed with the sound of your thighs against his.

Your eyes start to roll as your orgasm barrels through you, “Francisco! Fu-fuck I’m cum-” is all you get out before you gush out all over him, the evidence of your orgasm flowing between the two of you.

It’s possibly the most beautiful thing you’ve seen when he throws his head back as your cunt squeezes him tightly, his lips parting as his lean throat exposes to you as he lets out a growl. Legs trembling, he starts to tense in that all too familiar way, signaling his arrival of his own orgasm. You recognize the strained inhale and hiss of his breath as he stops thrusting, trying to hold back. He grips at you, in an attempt to beg you to still but you can’t, your own orgasm riding through you and his cock drawing it out in waves.

“Fuck! Baby, stop… stop, please… stop,” he pleads, practically whimpering into your chest.

“Baby, please. Don’t stop… please…” you beg him, grinding down on him, “I want you to come inside me,” at your admission, his hand curls tight into your hips, almost hard enough to bruise your already tender skin. A strained whine that escapes from deep in his chest, as one arm locks tightly around your back, pushing you flush up against him when he pushes himself into you sharply, up and into you as far as he can, like he was reaching for your heart with his cock.

“It’s ok. I’ve got you,” you whisper into his ear, running your hand through his soft curly hair.

You feel it as he comes, a shattered sob muffled against your neck, hips pressed impossibly deep into you, the thick pulses as he spills inside of you and it mingles with your own orgasm, and all you can do is hold him against you as he quivers and shakes in your arms. You both sit there for another few minutes, breathing in each other while you come down from this incredible high you just experienced together.

Frankie lays you back, still rooted within you as he kisses you deeply and softly. His hands come to your face as you both stretch out together, tangling under the sheets, embracing in the moment of you finally coming home together - coming home to each other .

He pulls back from you, eyes searching your face as he brushes your hair from your face, “I love you,” he whispers, almost so softly, so sweetly that it breaks you all over again. “I know I didn’t tell you enough, I wasn’t there enough, but you’re my everything… I-” he pauses, “I would be so lost without you and I’m,” he chokes up as you look up into his eyes, seeing the pure raw emotion within his chocolate pools.

“I’m here, Francisco… you have me, all of me,” you assure him, pulling him into a soft hug, holding him as his eyes water up, the realization hitting both of you just how far things had gone between you.

Eventually, you both pull apart, but wrap yourselves in each other and just stay there, breathing in the air mixing between you. It’s an old habit brought back, Frankie’s fingers finding their way to your hair, mindlessly stroking and weaving through your messy, post-sex hair that makes you shiver against him. His lips pressing gentle kisses against your forehead as his other hand strokes gently down your bare back.

“I love you…” he whispers, over and over again, “I will never stop loving you,” he kisses your temple.

You pull back, looking at the man that you had pushed away, that you’d forgotten loved you so deeply and so strongly and you kiss him, remembering all those years ago at the courthouse when you recited the most important words to him. It came out of you, like a renewal of your vows, and it just felt so right. The words were so important, something so sacred. And to start to fix this, to heal you , maybe remembering them was exactly what you needed.

“Frankie, you love me and complete me in ways I never knew possible. From this day forth, I promise to listen to you and learn from you, to support you and accept your support…” you smile, remembering your vows like they were yesterday.

His head comes down to yours, forehead pressed against your own as he recites parts of his own, “Forever with you simply will not be enough, but from this day forward, I vow to make the most of every moment. Let me be the shoulder you lean on and the companion of your life. With this ring,” he takes your hand, planting a kiss on your wedding band, “I promise you that you'll never have to face the world alone.”

#Triple Frontier #frankie catfish morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #frankie catfish morales x reader

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kaidans-alenko · 4 years ago

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Chocolate kisses

Just a little valentines one shot based in the universe of the long fic i’m working on “willow”

Summery: Valentines day is coming up and Lily has the perfect plan to win Kaidan’s heart: homemade chocolate

AO3 Link

"Aughhh!" Lily yelled, resulting in a very alarmed Aiden dashing into their kitchen.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, concerned.

Lily slammed the pan of what he assumed was chocolate down onto the counter, she had been holed up in their apartment all day and wouldn't tell him why "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to bake." She said, glaring at the pan.

"Bake what?"

Lily tensed up "Nothing, none of your business!"

Aiden picked up her pink recipe book, looking at the page it was opened on "Heart shaped dark chocolate...I didn't know you had a boyfriend." It's not like he was privy to every aspect of her life but they told each other everything and after Nate she had practically ruled out relationships.

Lily blushed, yanking the book from him "I don't."

"Then who are you making it for?"

Lily crossed her arms looking away from him "Maybe it's for you and you ruined the surprise."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you always get me flowers so why can't I give you something?"

"You cook for me every year and besides I hate dark chocolate."

"Well then maybe it's for me!"

"You hate dark chocolate."

"Ugh! Listen, did you just come in to interrogate me?"

"No, I came in because I was worried, you're the one being difficult."

"Fine! I'm making it for someone happy?"

"Who?"

"Why does it matter?"

Aiden shrugged "I'm just curious."

"Well...don't be!" She turned him around, pushing him out of the kitchen. "Now why don’t you focus on your own love life and leave me alone." Lily huffed walking back into the kitchen, leaving Aiden standing in their living room confused.

As much as it aggravated her to admit Aiden was right, she was trying to make chocolate for someone and that someone was her fellow soldier and sentinel, Kaidan Alenko. It was stupid, they weren't dating and she wasn't even sure he liked her so why she was stressing herself like this she didn't know but she was bad with words and everyone liked getting chocolates on valentines day right?

Lily gasped, what if he had a girlfriend? He hadn't mentioned anything but he was also a private person so he probably wouldn't have anyway. Lily fixed her ponytail "Whatever, if he puts all my good work to waste I'll kill him, asshole." She grumbled as she went back to work.

Kaidan shuddered "You okay LT?" Ashley asked.

"Yeah, just a sudden chill." He told her, a troubled look on his face.

"You know they often say that happens when someone is talking about you, maybe Lily is the reason?" She teased. Ashley knew about Lily and Kaidan's respective crushes on each other, her only problem was she couldn't tell either of them. Lily was her best friend and if she wanted her to keep it a secret she would and Ashley was no gossip but damn if it wasn't hard.

Kaidan rolled his eyes "Please, she doesn't even like me."

Oh if only he knew "Then why did you drag me, her best friend on to the Citadel just to pick out a gift for her huh?" Kaidan was silent "if you truly believed she didn't like you, any old box of chocolate would do, wouldn't it?"

"Just tell me what kind of flowers she likes."

"Aiden already gets her flowers."

Kaidan sighed "Of course…"

"She likes stuffed animals though.” Ashley informed him.

"You're kidding." Her? Miss shoot up a colony just because they don't have the time to throw a couple gas grenades. She collects stuffed animals?

Ashley shook her head "Swear on my life, she has quite the collection."

"If you say so." If anyone were to know it’d either be Ashley or Aiden and he certainly wasn’t about to ask him how to win his sister’s heart.

"Come on, I'll even help you pick one out." Ashley grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to shelves filled to the brim with pink, red and white stuffed toys.

"They're cute but they all have 'I love you' written on them." He said as he put one back on the shelf.

"Well are they wrong?" She pried.

"I'm not answering that." Kaidan picked up a white dog with red hearts all over it "aren't hearts a little...forward?"

"Kaidan."

He looked over at her "Yeah?"

"It's Valentine's Day, that's the whole point." Kaidan was definitely the endearingly awkward type and Lily was just awkward. They'd be a match made in heaven if they'd just knock it off and be honest with each other.

"Success!" Lily cried out collapsing to her knees on the kitchen floor, exhaustion finally washing over her. She had been trapped in her kitchen all morning and afternoon trying to get this chocolate to mold correctly and she finally did. "I'm never fucking making chocolate again." She said as she stood up "so he better enjoy it while he can."

Lily hummed happily as she set the heart shaped candy into a small pink box, wrapping a bow around it, trying to push the thought that Kaidan may not feel the same way to the back of her mind "It's fine, I'll just order a heart shaped pizza and cry alone while Aiden has a nice evening with Liara It's okay." She laughed to herself, aware of how crazy she probably sounded. She hoped that didn’t happen but she stopped being an optimist a long time ago.

-------------------------------

Kaidan sat at the table in the mass hall, the stuffed dog he had gotten for Lily laid in front of him, he felt silly as he waited for her to finish getting ready, the rest of the crew was either on dates or at Flux but he had stayed behind to wait for her. Kaidan might have sorta kinda forgot to ask her out on a date so he had to do it last minute when she probably already had one. He was an adult he could handle rejection, it would suck but he’d get over it, he just needed to get it out of the way so he could get over it. Kaidan gently flicked the dog's ear “Hopefully she’ll think you’re cute enough to forget that she hates me.” at least that’s what she liked to tell him, she was aloof one day but flirted with him the next it made no sense, Ashley liked to tease him by saying he didn’t understand women but maybe he just didn’t understand Lily. It’s not that she was all that easy to read.

Lily peaked over at Kaidan from behind the elevator, her hands behind her back holding the pink box containing the chocolate she made for him, he had a present in front of him too, they were the only two left on the ship was it for her? She didn’t want to assume things but she really hoped it was, she had fantasizing all day in between bouts of chocolate related anger. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself she slowly walked over to him “Kaidan?”

He looked up upon hearing his name, breath catching in his throat at the sight of her, he had never seen her in a skirt before and her gorgeous raven black hair was out of its usual tight ponytail and instead tied into a braid laid over her bare shoulders. At the age of thirty-two here he was blushing like a school boy on valentines day because of his CO’s younger sister. When was the last time he was on shore leave? “Lily you...uh...you look beautif-nice! You look very nice…” he said as he stood up to greet her, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Any other time she would’ve teased him but not now, she didn’t feel like it now, it’s not that she wanted a relationship really, she hadn’t for a long time but she didn’t want to have a just sex relationship with him either, ignoring the fact Kaidan wasn’t the type, what she felt for him wasn’t just physical attraction it went deeper and that terrified her. “I uh...I made these for you.” she said, blushing as she handed him the box of candy.

“You made it?” He asked, surprised as he opened the box.

“Yeah, it’s always a hit or miss with store bought chocolate so I thought i’d give it a try.” she told him as she started tugging on her skirt, the ship suddenly feeling very hot and the more she thought about it the more she realized homemade, heart shaped chocolate may have been too forward.

Kaidan smiled down at her “Thank you Lily, I can’t wait to try them,” he turned around, picking up the dog and holding it out to her “I got you something too, I had heard you liked stuffed animals so…” now it was his turn to blush.

Lily’s face lit up “For me?” she gently took the stuffed down in her hands, looking at it briefly before hugging it to her chest with a smile on her face “I love it, thank you!” Kaidan had never seen her smile, not at him anyway all he got was a smirk at most but not this time, this time she gave him a genuine smile and it was gorgeous. Kaidan didn’t know her history, he didn’t know why she rarely smiled but he wanted to. It’s not like he was big on smiling either but someone like Lily...someone like her deserved to always be happy, to always smile from the bottom of her heart, even if he wasn’t the reason behind it.

“I know it’s very last minute but if you don’t have a date I would like to take you to dinner.” It had been a long time since he had asked someone on a date, probably before he even enlisted and he hadn’t anticipated doing it again for a long time yet here he was jittery with butterflies in stomach as he asked the woman he had a crush on out on a date. God crush...such a juvenile term for him to use but that was the best way to describe it and for as much as they bickered it was probably a long shot but something deep down told him he’d regret it if he didn’t.

“I’d love to, I actually didn’t have any plans either.” She was hoping he’d give her some but she wasn’t going to say that out loud.

Kaidan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding “Great, that’s uh...great.” he hadn’t planned past this mainly because he hadn’t anticipated her saying yes but before he could trip over his words again Lily took his hand, pulling him along.

“There’s a restaurant I've been wanting to try but I haven’t had anyone to go with.” She said, it was an obvious lie, she could’ve dragged Aiden along but she didn’t because she was holding out hope that she’d be able to go with Kaidan, they weren’t dating, not even a little so to have such hope was silly but she was nothing if not a hopeless romantic, a side of herself she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“What restaurant?” He asked as he was rather willingly led up the stairs.

“Apollo’s? I don’t remember but it’s named after one of those Greek gods, it’s on the presidium I know that much.”

Kaidan chuckled “I’m sure we’ll find it.”

“I hope so! I’m starving Kaidan, absolutely wasting away as we speak.” she said, her tone over dramatic and dragging her feet as if she was about to pass out on the stairs.

It was rare for her to joke with him like this but he liked it and as much as he was getting his hopes up it had him wanting more nites like this but for now he was going to savor this one. The sound of her giggling, something he didn’t expect to hear from her, the sight of her smile, the one she was only directing at him, the smell of her floral perfume, it was light but so very Lily and most of all, the feeling of his hand in hers. Lily’s hands, like the rest of her, were much smaller than his and they fit together like puzzle pieces. He wasn’t about to be sappy and say they were made for each other, he didn’t know that yet but it sure was a nice thought.

#kaidan alenko #f!shenko #lilyshep #aidenshep #mass effect #ashley williams #mass effect fanfiction

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gin-and-luce · 5 years ago

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You killed our dog! Adriana of The Sopranos gave me strength to navigate life after a breakup during a global pandemic lockdown

I’m going through a breakup. It’s come at the worst time but also the best time. He ended things with me (more on that later) after three years in the most Beta-Male way...but this is what happens when your type can be boiled down to softboi. I can’t see my friends in the conventional way, so I made some new ones on screen to help me navigate the end during quarantine.

Over ten weeks ago I started watching The Sopranos. It doesn’t need justifying, everyone knows it’s the best television series of all time, but I’d never seen it, and I knew a global pandemic induced lockdown would provide optimum viewing circumstances. My favourite thing to do is completely throw myself into the female narrative and experience I’m watching on screen. I prefer a long deep drama over a film. I like being able to see my girls every night.

People have said to me before “you should start a blog”, but I could never escape the feeling that doing so is massively narcissistic because it *is*, unless you have something actually relevant to write about. Alternatively, the image of Gretchen Weiners leaning in and going “you let it out honey, put it in the book” floats across my conscience, and everything embarrassing that I’ve ever done, plays in a montage in my mind.

Who gives a fuck what I have to say about anything…….. especially about a cultural phenomena that is quite literally regarded as the best TV show of all time?

I’d been wanting to write this after I watched Long Term Parking. I lay in the dark for 45 minutes after the episode ended. I’d never felt like that watching a television show or film before. My throat had seized up but I didn’t cry, even though I felt like it. I knew it was coming from the moment Adriana met the agent. I wasn’t surprised, but I was heartbroken and absolutely fuming. I still am.

I’m not angry with Christopher, Tony, or Silvio, but just the general unbalance I’ve felt when I’m in a relationship. The loss of self, relationships being a series of compromises. From what I have found from my own experiences and my girlfriends’, women are just much more willing to compromise, but don’t consider it to be a compromise. Men can only take into consideration their own reality, an evolutionary selfishness that just doesn’t translate.

Just as lockdown began I texted my boyfriend to say I loved him and I missed him. He responded with “Can’t say I feel the same”. Nearly 3 years were over just like that. We had the obligatory phone call, where I was hysterical and he was smarmy and smug. Yet when it was over, I felt nothing. It’s allllll a big nothing.

My personal Gospel is Sex and The City (shout out to HBO!). This was my Berger moment. He essentially scribbled “I’m sorry, I can’t. Don’t hate me” on a post-it. The irony of the whole thing is that when we watched it together, he himself said he was most like Berger. Thinking about it makes me wince.

My life opened up in front of me, I was exposed to his weakness regarding the situation in full when his sister-in-law messaged me on Instagram a few days ago. He hadn’t told his family, nor had he told his flatmates (another shout out to my sleuths at the back, you know who you are!).

The Sopranos is a show about life. The Mafia structure provides a vehicle for us to question morality and mortality. You take what you get from it. When I watch it again at a different stage of my life, I will get something else out of it.

For me now, while I stew in my own emotion during quarantine, Adriana represents emotional labour and the expectation for women to behave in a certain way in relationships.

At first when my ex’s family members were messaging me, I was confused. It is frankly humiliating to smile as if everything is normal, so as to protect someone that in the end would not do the same for me. I know he wouldn’t do the same because there was just no courtesy in what happened weeks ago. I am trying to move on but things like this stunt your personal growth.

The struggle with emotional labour hones a guilt that someday I’ll regret giving my early 20s to something that didn’t work out. I felt like I was on borrowed time.

These are obviously my own insecurities spurred on by the fact that I’ve read enough “10 things I wish I knew in my 20s” blogs to know that these are my selfish years. Still, it is ultimately devastating to see the last 3 years of your life conclude via a text that displays a failure to realise that there is no real clean cut for a long-term relationship.

I respect him for the blunt statement because it means I get to reference the Berger SATC breakup and say “casually cruel in the name of being honest” (Taylor Swift, 2012) a LOT, which softens the pity in the social scenarios that I invent in my head in the shower.

When Tony calls Adriana to tell her Christopher has tried to kill himself, that was like my final phone call too. This is the end. Her youthfulness was why I related to her most in the show, but at the same time having nothing to lose made her easily expendable. Youth makes you put 100% into something knowing it is a gamble.

I’m not comparing my ‘borrowed time’ to Adriana because she ends up dead, but there was a disregard for her life that was so harrowing because she did nothing but try and do the right thing. I watched Adriana put Christopher first willingly for 5 series. He supported her music management dreams but ultimately ended up making it all about him. He gave her the Crazy Horse but this ultimately was just another mob hangout. He sat on her dog, he continued to use heroin, shag other people, and so on.

“You could start writing again,” she tells him in her last episode, to which he responds “I could do my memoirs, finally,”. Here is Adriana still!! STILL!! catering to Christopher’s ego to give herself some confidence. Very me.

All the way through she was just too good for him. Her ties to the Famiglia aren’t as tight as Carmela and Co. No children, still young, there’s chance for Adriana to get out if she wanted to. Of course this makes her prime FBl bait, but shows she sticks by Christopher through everything purely out of love. In the end she dies on her knees, subservient, with Heart’s Barracuda the last song she hears. I know Adriana had to go. That’s the way it is in the Famiglia because Christopher took an oath. But in a way she also had the carpet ripped from underneath her, just like me.

There are lots of men writing on the internet about how Adriana is greedy and hypocritical. I just don’t understand where this reading is coming from other than obvious misogyny. I’ve read others that say if she was really that strong she would have simply left the relationship years ago. I believe that she believed things would improve for both of them, and that most people are just slut shaming her for her past.

Still, Drea DeMatteo won a Best Supporting Actress Emmy for the episode. Fuckin’ A.

I rooted for the woman. Before I was made redundant while working from home, I would spend half my life at my desk willing it to be 5:30pm, so I could slither back to the settee and spend the other half of my life in New Jersey. I’d phone my mum to discuss the episodes. She loves the show too, it’s always been a favourite in my household. We’d talk about the women like they were our friends and how we relate to them. The Sopranos is like a big mirror urging you to question everything. The answer to life is simply what are ya gonna do?

Men love making things black and white so it is easier for them, when really women are in the background sorting out the shades of grey.

Don’t get me wrong, Adriana’s significance is massive, albeit more so because of her death. You watch Christopher and Tony’s relationship start to crumble afterwards. It's shattering to see the disregard for Christopher’s sobriety and how despite his loyalty, he still sees him as a liability and weak.

On the other hand, for Adriana’s sake, I am still enraged that he couldn’t see the bigger picture at the time. She is collateral damage in his path to finding his precious arc - “Wives, girlfriends, they can complicate life in a major way” Tony expresses to Jennifer as he runs from his own guilt.

Christopher is desperate for Tony’s approval but is more than happy to use his blood connection as a protective leeway whenever he steps out of line. Again the irony is that he comes to tell Tony about Adriana first, just as the old Famiglia values say he should, but there is no real personal reward for doing so despite the personal sacrifice.

I think Christopher regretted it in the end, and rightly so. When he is faced with his potential alternate life at the gas station, we assume that this was what made him go to Tony. It’s a family with loads of kids. Adriana probably can’t even have kids??? What kind of male logic?! #justiceforadriana

I can’t help but feel for him when JT screams “Chris, you’re in the MAFIA!”. It’s the same kind of reality check that Chief Cubitoso gives Adriana, it’s an ultimatum and it’s the realisation that they are trapped in this life. Just ask Gene.

Carmela knew. I read her dreams as a testament to a woman’s intuition. She knows her friend isn’t what everyone is describing, she knows Adriana wouldn’t just disappear. She is all too aware of the emotional labour Mob women carry. When she sees Adriana with Cosette on the banks of the Seine, it is as sad as it is when we dream about people who have died.

There is a scene in an early episode where Carmela says “Don’t we all?” in response to Meadow squealing “She’s MARRYING a BABY?” at a painting of The Marriage of Saint Catherine. I thought about this again when Christopher dies. Carmela passes her instinct off as hysteria, she isn’t to know. “So quick to blame, what is the attraction in that?” she cries during the aftermath of the car crash. There is a critique in her own femininity here that just makes you want to shout “NO CARM!!!!!!!”. As she believes she mothers Tony, there is the double-edged sword whereby he protects her through keeping her in the dark. “Heaven only ever sees my love making a fool of me” sings Emmylou Harris at the start of season 5. Carm’s power is taken away but she doesn’t even know.

Carmela dedicates her life to being a mother but it’s not enough to save Meadow from her surname. We get some sense that AJ ‘Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit’ Soprano might be on a new path when he feels like the burning of his car among the autumn leaves of death was cathartic. As a man, he just has more freedom anyway.

Miss Meadow gained her independence by getting her driving license, but in the end we see that she is still held back in the final scene by her inability to parallel park. She slots right in, eventually. As she does, she slots into the Soprano cycle after years of doing the most to get out and pave her own way. After every breakup with someone without links to the Famiglia, no scrubs, she returns and dates someone closer to home. Her career path is left tenuous to us, it would be all too easy for her to become a kept woman, which feels like it is the only real option should she settle down into the lifestyle with Patrick Parisi. It isn’t what she envisioned for herself, so part of me wants to hope that her story ends up a little bit more like Elle Woods. Legally Italian.

I probably wouldn’t even have remembered her saying anything about parallel parking if I wasn’t terrible at parallel parking myself. It’s the pepperings of these subtle callbacks that make the show so beautiful. As the guitar solo plays on during the frustration, you’re invited to reminisce over Meadow’s journey. I fully wept watching her struggle to get the damn car parked because I’m trying to get my car parked too. Don’t stop believing, Meadow.

I admire all the women in The Sopranos. The show is feminist, and that is a hill I am prepared to die on. It’s definitely up for debate as it is obviously littered with gratuitous nudity and women are commoditised. We have to allow this for cultural context for the show, but real life is basically exactly the same too?

I read a post on Reddit where a dude is asking whether he should watch the show with his girlfriend. He types ‘“It’s a masterpiece of film but she probably wouldn’t get into it as I am”, and you don’t have to look much further to find more comments about how women and their puny minds just won’t get it. It’s an odd perspective to take given that Tony’s psychiatrist is a woman, but of course women could never grasp something so complex. It’s bullshit if you ask me, the female narrative prevails throughout all scenarios.

The Pine Barrens seems to be everyone’s favourite episode. It’s not my favourite but there are two major elements that resonated with me. The first is Meadow looking down at the three letter words Jackie Aprile Jr had placed on the Scrabble board, and the second is when Gloria says to Tony:

“What you said was that you didn’t wanna piss me off..which implies that you’d have to deal with me, which is more about sparing YOU than my fucking feelings”. Don’t need to elaborate on that. Rest in power, Gloria. Legend.

Of course I could write pages and pages of hot feminist takes on all of the women - Jennifer, Janice, Livia, Angie, Svetlana, Charmaine. Lord knows I could probably write a book on Tracee.“ 20 years old, this girl”, I bashed Living on a Thin Line by The Kinks for about a week after that episode. It is the male gaze of the show made me love the women more. Carmela is my mother and I’ll probably name my first born Meadow.

Carmela is the powerhouse and backbone of The Soprano household even though Tony provides. She represents stability, emotional labour, and putting on a brave face regardless. In some ways, it is as if Carmela represents the human emotion side and the fragility of organised crime. She is secure, but not enough, and her lack of ability to stand on her own two feet plagues her conscience through time. She is totally complicit, but must be to ensure her future with Tony as he pays anything to roll the dice just one more time. At the end of Long Term Parking, she and Tony stand looking at where she will build her spec-house. The forest looks the same as where we lost Ade, it’s a grim reflection that Carmela wouldn’t have this life if it wasn’t for the quick disposal of those like Adriana.

Yeah okay, what the hell is a show with a feminist underpinning trying to say about wider society about a woman who exercises her beauty, loyalty and ambition?? Is it that she is not to be trusted?? Adriana’s a rat, but before this she is already deemed “damaged goods” anyway. She dresses provocatively, but that’s because she just looks MINT always. You would dress like THAT if you looked like THAT. When you Google her, ‘Adriana Sopranos Tennis’ comes up. I roll my eyes. Fucking men, eh? To take it down to a basic Sixth-Form-Poet reading, Adriana is Curley’s Wife and Daisy Buchanan all in one. She loves a red manicure too, and it might have worked out better for her if she had played the complicit beautiful little fool.

This isn’t ‘Why The Sopranos is good!’, but a love letter to Adriana and her strength, because there is basically little or no content written on the women of the show when I have Googled. I needed there to be more things written about her that isn’t just “bitch had it coming” when in fact she is a martyr.

When Adriana was on screen, there was my mate. I knew her, she wanted what I wanted, but she sacrificed so much of herself for others and it was heartbreaking to watch. She barely gets a look-in in early episodes, but when she does she is usually wearing something animal print, which automatically made her the number one character on my radar. I am choosing to believe the theory that she is the cat in the final episode too.

Still, I have been struggling and questioning why an episode that aired 16 years ago, with no plot that links to my own circumstances, has had such a monumental impact on me.

I saw a tweet that said “have we ever sat down and thought about why relationships only work if the guy is more invested than the girl or is that just something we accept” (@anugov1). Adriana invested more in Christopher, even in the end, than she ever did herself.

As I navigate this transitional period in my life, I am Adriana driving in the vision we see when we think she is going to start her new chapter. We can’t leave the flat, I have no job. The Sopranos has provided the most cathartic escapism for me. As I enter into whatever new world follows this nightmare, I wanted my mate Adriana to find her new world too, turning the classic rock up to 11.

#the sopranos #adriana la cerva #christopher moltisanti #carmela soprano #feminism #cosette #breakup #woe is me #hbo #david chase #drea de matteo

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