#also I’m not immune to women with short hair

[emily-mooon]

She’s so pretty 💖💙💜

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Fake Dating

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Carlos/Charles

nsfw: In for a penny, in for a pound by @f1-stuff | E | 49.4k Summary: Charles needs a date for his brothers wedding and instead of finding someone to ask he decides to use an escort agency, as you do. Why I liked it: Listen, I am just a woman and not immune to the hairy charms of Carlos Sainz as a professional gigolo, okay? This fic is amazingly hot and the way the awkwardness transforms to flirty tension and back is impeccable.

"He doesn’t think about it much when he kisses him, their sweat turning it salty, skin flushed and warm from the exercise and the sun. He sucks at Carlos’ bottom lip, and all he feels is satisfaction and relief. And also, maybe, a little arousal. Not because of, like... Carlos. But just because of the high of victory, the exhilaration of beating his ex. Obviously. Not at all because Charles' eyes have been catching all day on the flex of Carlos’ bare thighs, legs lean and muscular and covered in dark hair. Or the tight cupping of his shorts over his ass. Or the movement of his shoulders beneath his shirt, clinging more and more to his skin as sweat dampens the fabric and outlines the shape of his pecs. Or the swell of his arm muscles as he clutches his racquet, flexing with every hit of the ball. Or even the messy sweep of thick, wavy hair at his neck, contained beneath a backwards cap until the end of the game, when he sweeps off the hat to dump his remaining water all over his head, like some sort of soft-core porn shoot. Charles realizes that he’s standing amongst a group of the bridesmaids, all of them staring at Carlos as he smooths the water through his hair and over his face, dripping idly while he zips up his racquet and grabs the rest of his things. Charles shuts his mouth and swallows, wandering away from the group of women before anyone sees him, shame reddening his cheeks."

Daniel/Max

Green Card by @mysticalbreadcollective | M | 10.7k Max is rich and needs a Green Card, Daniel needs some cash and a place to stay. The answer to both problems is for them to get married! I just loved how in sync they are with each other

"Yeah. He’s in the doghouse at the minute, mate. Keeps working late, and doesn’t tell me, do you, honey? And last week I cooked him his favourite meal and he didn’t even bother telling me he wasn’t coming home. Rude or what?” “Well, I of course am sorry, Daniel, already I said this. So many times. I brought you flowers to apologise but you just threw them out. And also, I have to work late. How else am I to fund your shopping habits?”

Lewis/Sebastian

nsfw: Let's try something else by @12romy | E | 20.3k Seb and Lewis come up with a plan to combat homophobia in F1.

“So, uh… I’m in a relationship…” “I mean, you know him pretty well, it's Lewis,” “Lewis. As in… Hamilton?” someone said, stunned. Sebastian nodded then almost died of a heart attack when a voice exclaimed “Yes, I knew it! Pay up losers!!!” He knew the man who screamed that, he was the one in charge of the social media account. “Alright, we'll talk with the Mercedes PR team to see what we can do. The good news is, you won’t need to create an Instagram just for that, Lewis has one already.”

Carlos/Lando

Somethin' Stupid by @ehcahache | T | 6.3k Carlos and Lando have been pining for each other, until Carlos does something unexpected.

"He's either stupid and bored and a masochist, or he's very in love with you, stupid and a masochist." "Max, I'm talking about my outfit, not my hideous life decisions."

like real people do | M | 10.6k Lando panics and tells his family that he's bringing his boyfriend Carlos to the family event, Carlos who's not at all his boyfriend. He turns to Carlos who plays his role a bit too well (with a side of George, Alex and Max teasing him about it). I just love how nonchalant Carlos is about pretending to be Lando's boyfriend, especially in front of his family.

"In that moment, Lando realises that he can never bring another man home to his parents again, because no one is going to compare to Carlos and now he’s going to have to die alone rather than try and find someone better because they definitely don’t exist."

Lando/Oscar

anything you ask i do (for you) by @fear8not1 | M | 22.4k Lando makes a bet. “I bet $100 I can make Oscar the happiest fake boyfriend for a month,” he repeats, holding George’s gaze proudly. “What… ?” Oscar asks again, his eyebrows raised in what must be his most expressive face. “Wait, what ?” George snickers, completely gone and spilling some of his drink in the grass, before answering with a shaky, “$200 you can’t.” I love George just being George. 😁

"Right. The bet. Right. He may have forgotten about that."

you love me (but you don't know it yet) by @nyoomfruits | T | 34.5k After being dumped by a trashy boyfriend Lando panics when questions about the said ex are asked and makes up a lie on the spot. He has a wonderful new boyfriend and he's standing on the 1st row of the fan stage! True is that Lando just panicked and chose the first cute looking guy not wearing Mclaren merch

“How the fuck did you meet Lando, then?” “I was working on this project, the deadline was the next day and it was really kicking my ass. Anyway at around one in the morning I figured I needed a break, so I went to the nearest Tesco to pick up a can of Monster.” “We both reached for the last can of Monster-“ “Ultra Sunrise, baby,” "He started swearing at me.” “Yeah, so he offered it to me, and then I felt bad because you know. I had just yelled at this guy. Over a can of Monster. So I told him he could have it,” “Then that went back and forth for a while,” “Until eventually Lando said to me. ‘You know what? You can have it, as long as I can have your phone number’.”

Charles/Max

nsfw: there you'll stand (next to me) by @minieggs11 | E | 97.1k Max reputation is in need of repair and what better way than to be seen making friends with the grid sweetheart Charles? Surely nothing can go wrong, its not like anyone is going to catch feelings. Why I liked it: The setup of this fic is brilliant and so belivable that Im sure there are many a twitter account dedicated to the conspiracy of Max using Charles for PR. The author has a great voice for both Max and Charles and the evolution of their friendship is so natural that I almost thought the author would let Max's deception pass unnoticed but fear not the emotional devastation will hit and hearts will be broken (and repaired) on both sides.

Pink dusts Charles’ cheeks at the second nickname Max has bestowed on him in as many minutes. Max feels quite warm under his race suit now. Is it getting more humid somehow? Max runs a hand through his damp hair in an attempt to get the few strands hanging over his forehead out of his face. Charles laughs again, a bit higher pitched than before. He smiles and blinks exaggeratedly at Max, before sighing dramatically, “I guess everyone just wants me for my pretty face and my good PR, and you’re no exception, mate.” And– huh. Max knows Charles was joking, but now that Max is looking, he supposes that Charles is well, objectively, quite handsome. In a very classical way. The kind of beauty that’s talked about not as opinion, but as fact. Yes, Charles Leclerc is very pretty, Max would say. But so would anyone. It’s just the truth.

George/Lewis

Mission Couple Goals by @redvh205 | G | 12.7k

“Georgie?” Huh. Well, that was certainly not somebody he’d have expected. In the past him and Lewis had comforted each other after bad races, but they’d never actively sought each other out if one of them was in their driver’s room. Being in the driver's room was the unofficial sign for wanting to be alone, and usually they respected that. If Lewis was here now, that probably meant he’d somehow found a way to turn this into a couple goal mission video. Which George absolutely was not in the mood for. “Go away. I don’t have the patience for cameras right now.” Lewis’s confusion could be heard through the door. “Cameras? What are you talking about?” George sighed. Apparently, his teammate wouldn’t let this go. He stumbled to the door and pulled it open, ready to tell whatever editor or admin to bug off – -only to find himself just ten centimeters away from Lewis’s face. Well, not his face, because he was twelve centimeters taller than Lewis, so there was only air on his eye level, but Lewis was still very close. And there were no cameras in sight. George cautiously peeked around the corners, but none were hiding there either. That was unexpected. Lewis looked rather confused and took a slow step back. “Are you okay?” George sighed and shook his head to himself. “Yes, I just … never mind. What are you doing here?” “I heard about what happened and wanted to check on you.” “Why?” Lewis tilted his head. “Because that’s what people do when they care about someone?” Another sigh escaped George. “You don’t have to do this, you know? There’s no one there. You don’t have to pretend as if you actually like doing all this stuff that we do in order to win this award.

Charles/Pierre

we should just kiss (like real people do) by @chaesonghwas | G | 4.9k Office worker!Charles brings Pierre his childhood bestie as his fake boyfriend to the corporate Christmas party who ends up following him to his family's Christmas party and acts a little bit too much like a real boyfriend, totally shameless about loving him. I loved this!

"YOU'VE BETRAYED ME!" Lorenzo continues, not fully out of his shocked state, "You're making me owe money to Arthur, Charles. Arthur. " "I bet you fuckers wouldn't get together until next year at least, oh my God." "You shouldn't have bet against us." Pierre shoots back, pulling Charles towards his body, who can only stare at him with wide eyes. "You, shut up. You're not my brother-in-law until you pay me back."

show me who made you walk all the way here by @yukierres | M | 36k F1 driver Pierre meets a cute guy at the hotel during the Monaco GP, the said cute guy turns out to be the Prince of Monaco who's trying to come out by having a long term partner. Pierre's trashy ex knows he's gay and is going to sell that info to the press. What 2 better candidates to fake date!

Charles squeaks down the phone. “Pierre,” he scolds. “Arthur is still in the room next door. We are not having phone sex!”

strawberries & cigarettes (always taste like you) by @duquesademiel | M | 21k Influencer Pierre and F1 driver Charles who once fake dated for PR go on a free sponsored vacation together as a couple. Charles making occasional appearances on Pierre's PR posts to boost engagement. Pierre his fake boyfriend on whom he has a very real crush. Both Pierre and Charles take the trip as an opportunity to live the boyfriend experience they think they won't ever be able to have with each other. They both try to show interest while feigning interest at the same time, trying to make the most of the time they're spending together.

Kimi/Seb

Fiancée for Hire by @kimisicecream | T | 27.5k Kimi Räikkönen needs a male fiancé to convince his family that he's really bisexual, Sebastian Vettel's main sponsor for his Formula 3.5 series just dropped him for Lewis last minute and needs to find a sponsor asap otherwise he won't have enough funds to continue racing. Luckily there are companies who are dedicated to find people fake fiancés, through whom Kimi will get a fiancé and Seb will get his money.

“Hm. Let’s see… Candles, my favourite music, Italian food… Are we having that proposal date we made up for the press?” “Maybe.” “I love it.” “We put a lot of thought into that date.” Kimi jokes. “Not bringing it to life would be a missed opportunity.” Seb chuckles. “Yeah and now we don’t have to lie about it anymore!”

[akaridream]

please my prince (vegeta x reader)

tags: vegeta x time patroller! reader, vegeta x saiyan! reader, mentor-mentee dynamic, afab reader

warnings: explicit content, MDNI; he’s kinda mean but not too bad, good girl, princess, bitch... but no spoilers for the fun stuff

Vegeta had loved the female Saiyan battle suits since the day he hit puberty. The briefs left little to the imagination, showing off many warriors’ favorite assets. Though the story was that they allowed the most freedom of movement, attracting the eye of a potential mate was never too far from a Saiyan’s mind. As you stood in front of Vegeta stretching during a lull in your training session together, he admired your cheeky attire. You had the firm glutes and quads of a powerful warrior, after all. Your efforts shouldn’t go unappreciated. And they certainly didn’t.

Though your training sessions were productive, they were always plagued with an air of tension. As noble a warrior as he was, Vegeta was not immune to the wiles of a female, especially one of his own Saiyan heritage. Something inside him stirred at the sight of your tail swishing, hypnotizing him and making him wish he still had a tail of his own to flirt back at you with. His mind-numbing attraction to you made training sessions an exercise in self-control. When was the last time he had even seen a female Saiyan, let alone one of your impressive power? What would happen if he overstepped the line and made a move on you?

Little did he know, you also struggled to maintain your composure around him. With his widow’s peak and chiseled body, he was a living picture of Saiyan perfection. His narrow waist and hips were well balanced by wide shoulders and a tower of wild hair. His silhouette made you claw half-moons into your palms at the sight. How could any man be so fucking hot?

It was quite the privilege to train with him, too. Only a handful of Time Patrollers had adequate power levels to satisfy the prince. You had the honor of becoming his first Saiyan trainee, garnering special treatment, but not with extra leeway or praise. Vegeta’s regimen bordered on cruel, only because he knew you could handle it. He saw the fire, the passion for battle that blazed in your rich black eyes. He felt the immense power behind your blows. He heard the rage of the oozaru in your battle cry.

“Saiyan men crave strong women,” he recalled telling Kakarot once, and there was no denying it. You were strong. And he craved you.

Many shameful nights, he had gone to the locker room showers at the Patroller Academy with a raging erection thanks to you. Too proud to relent, however, he opted for a cold shower rather than gratify himself. Tonight was shaping up to have the same outcome. The sun had set and the gymnasium at the academy had long since cleared out, leaving only you and your mentor to train on the wrestling mats. The air conditioner had kicked off after dark, leaving you to pine over a shirtless Vegeta with drops of sweat racing down his pecs. You breathed deeply into your stretch, closing your eyes and folding forward to touch your toes. Vegeta closed his eyes too, if only to keep them off your ass. He still had plenty of combinations left to drill into you, he couldn’t deal with a hard-on now. There would be no hiding it in his compression shorts.

“Come on, you’ve slacked off long enough,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sick of you wasting my damn time. Run the last combo again.”

You continued to stretch, unperturbed. “I’m feeling tight and trying to avoid pulling a muscle,” you snarled. “Plus, I know you’re enjoying the view.”

Vegeta’s face caught on fire, making him turn his back to you. “Shut the hell up, woman! The only thing I’m enjoying is knocking some sense into that smart mouth of yours.”

The tip of your tail twitched and your heart began to race. If there was one thing a Saiyan loved as much as a physical fight, it was a good verbal spar.

“Yeah yeah, I might take you more seriously if you had landed a solid blow on me today. Pretty sure I’ve blocked just about everything you’ve thrown at me,” you said.

Vegeta scoffed and turned back to you. Annoyed, he kneed you in the butt, knocking you off balance. You squealed and rolled forward into a somersault.

“The fuck was that for?” you asked, peering up from the ground at a smug mentor.

“Didn’t block that one, did you?” Vegeta said, raising an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes. “I could have swept you if I wanted. But I don’t want to continue to show up my own teacher. He’s got an ego the size of this planet, don’t want to bruise it.”

“Just get off your lazy ass and run the combo!” he roared as he stood over you. “Why the hell I tolerate you, I don’t even know.”

You smirked and got to your feet, wrapping your tail around your waist. “Like I said, you enjoy the view, Prince.”

Unamused, he came at you with a flurry of powerful blows before you were ready. You managed to dodge and block them, then came in with the combination you had been practicing. He blocked then countered with a swift palm strike, sending you flying. You landed on your feet, then launched back at your mentor, throwing in a wicked elbow straight for his head. With almost no effort, Vegeta slipped past you and kicked with a grunt. You barely leaned back in time, watching his muscled calf fly straight past your nose. Before you could recover, he grabbed a fistful of your black hair and smashed your face into the mat, knee on your spine for good measure. You groaned and tried to get up to no avail.

“Pathetic,” Vegeta growled. “Bragging about your blocking ability but you didn’t see that coming.”

“Because that was a dirty move, Jeet.”

He scoffed and pressed his knee harder into your back. “Do you think Frieza fights clean? Or how about Janemba? Or maybe you think Broly will fight honorably?”

You continued to struggle between his weight and the floor but he kept you pinned. You looked up at him over your shoulder as he leaned down to your ear.

“You’re weak. Just admit you can’t handle my training and give up.”

“Fuck you,” you grumbled.

“Huh? Couldn’t quite hear that, sweetheart. You want me to go easy on you because you’re no stronger than an infant earthling?”

Your nostrils flared and you clawed into the mat. Rage bloomed from deep within you and your hair began to glow blonde.

“I said fuck you Vegeta!” you roared as you threw him off and across the mat. A glint of pride flickered across Vegeta’s face as he stood and barreled towards you with another attack.

You traded blow after blow, matching his power and speed. You gritted your teeth as you sparred and he continued to block your every move.

“That’s it! Push it harder! This is your life you’re fighting for! I’ll send you through the roof if you hold back on me!” Vegeta yelled in your face. He watched as your eyes glowed with intensity in Super Saiyan form, hitting your stride as you fought.

You grunted with each strike, crying out in annoyance as he easily deflected you, then gave you a shove just to show how much of a gap there still was between your power levels. Teeming with frustration, you balled your fists and breathed deep, building your energy.

“I’m not holding back!” you barked with a fully charged punch. You caught your mentor on the cheek, but just barely, causing him to stumble for a moment. You lunged in with a swift knee to his solar plexus, driving him straight back and onto the ground. One knee on his chest and the other by his hip, you pinned him to the mat, crossing a forearm over his neck and holding one of his thick biceps down. His eyes narrowed as you panted over him like a raging bull, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“That punch was not part of the combo,” he snarled.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess. Did you think I was gonna fight clean?”

“Tch, you damn brat!”

Vegeta’s eyes flashed blue, his hair flaring to a brilliant gold as he quickly reversed your positions, rolling you onto your back. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them next to your head while he straddled one of your legs. His face was dangerously close to yours before you knew what happened.

Your breaths mingled in the thin air between you. Hearts beating wildly, you watched the inky black return to his irises as yours did the same. You unwrapped your tail from your waist and allowed it to brush against Vegeta’s leg. The golden glow faded from you both and you realized just what you were feeling against your thigh.

“V… Vegeta, are you…” you panted.

The look in his eye grew dark as his gaze darted to your lips. Bristling with a different energy, you extended your neck to meet him with a searing hot kiss.

His grip on your wrists grew tight as he mashed his lips back against yours. He allowed his weight to press into you as you kissed, his tongue beginning to explore.

“The hell was that for?” he breathed against your mouth. Your tongue met his and teased him, drawing him into you.

“You were practically begging for it.” He let go of your wrists to tangle one hand in your hair, giving him leverage to attack your mouth just how he wanted. His tongue was hot yet soft, enticing you to chase and play along. Your hands couldn’t stay off his body. You traced down his sides, feeling the dips between his sculpted muscles. You made your way to his hips, then his taut buttocks, gripping and urging him to drag his hardened cock against your leg. Vegeta chuckled.

“A prince begs for nothing, you damn minx,” he growled.

You moaned as his tongue swirled against yours. “Tell me you’ll fuck me, Vegeta.”

He kissed his way to your neck, sucking and nibbling your tender flesh. “Hmph, now who’s begging?”

You whined as his free hand started to explore over your breastplate. “I… I’m not begging.”

“Really?” He chuckled darkly. “Then what do you call those noises, hm?”

You started to move your hips, searching for friction against your throbbing clit. “I’m not some submissive little girl,” you said.

Vegeta stilled your hip and sucked a mark onto your collar bone. “No, you’re just a Saiyan bitch in heat who wants the prince to satisfy her.”

You roughly grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him back to your mouth. “I’m not that desperate, especially not for you.”

He denied your kiss and held your gaze. “Your actions speak louder than your words, woman,” he said, ghosting a finger over your slit. Your throat tightened as he pressed against your throbbing clit, trying not to let him know just how needy you really were. But as he locked his eyes with yours, you couldn’t ignore the intense, pulsing desire you felt for him, allowing a moan to fall from your lips.

“Fuck, so what if I am?” you whined. “What if I do want you that bad?”

He smirked. “You gave in to me so easily. Why the hell should I reward you?”

“Because you want me, too.”

He snickered and graced you with a rough kiss.

“You think you’re that special, huh?” he said.

You gave his lower lip a gentle bite, eliciting a low groan and hard drag of his cock against your leg.

“Not really. But I think I know a horny man when I see one.”

Vegeta smirked and repositioned himself between your legs, humping against your clothed core agonizingly slowly. A hot breath escaped you and your nails dug into his hips.

“Mm, Vegeta,” you moaned.

“You’re going to take me like a good girl, you got it?” he asked, creating a blissful rhythm against you. You nodded. “And you’re going to let your prince use you just how he wants, right?”

You nodded again. “Yes. You can have me Prince Vegeta.” Pleasure was building quickly as he dry humped you. Your whines echoed through the empty gym, reminding you that anyone could walk in at any moment.

Another desperate kiss betrayed the prince’s feelings: he needed you, too. He stripped off your armor, leaving you in a strappy sports bra and your briefs. He rolled you onto your stomach and ran his hands up the backs of your thighs.

“If it wasn’t for this perfect ass of yours, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” he said, thumbs brushing against the bottom of your buttocks. He gave a light smack, making you bite your lip and wiggle your hips.

“I knew you loved it,” you teased. He gave a harder smack as your tail began to flit excitedly.

He removed your briefs slowly, revealed your muscular ass in all its glory. “The fact that it belongs to the hottest Saiyan woman I’ve ever seen doesn’t hurt either.”

You grinned as he tossed your briefs aside, his eyes devouring your drooling slit. Your tail swished with an enticing rhythm. Vegeta couldn’t keep his hands off you and he ran his calloused palms over the developing spank mark before gliding a fingertip over your most sensitive parts.

“Need it, my prince,” you sighed.

His cock ached. “You’ll get it when I decide you’re ready.”

He plunged a finger deep into your velvetty walls, but it only served to make you want more. You craved the deep stretch his cock would provide. Vegeta twisted his wrist as he withdrew his finger, then penetrated back into you with force. The slick, shiny arousal coated his finger and began to drip down his knuckle as it rammed against you. Your tail wrapped tightly around his wrist, urging him to continue.

He positioned you with one leg bent up and your ass arched high into the air, a gorgeous angle to see your aching pussy. Impatient and painfully hard, Vegeta added a second finger, scissoring the pair apart as he pulled out from you. The pressure against your insides caused you to cry out and press your forehead hard into the mat. You balled your fists and moaned his name as he gradually stretched you further.

“Please, need your cock,” you breathed between moans. Vegeta gave a dark chuckle and began removing his shorts. You watched him over your shoulder, his cock heavy and thick as it sprang free. You salivated at the sight.

“Can I have you in my mouth?” you asked, starting to sit up.

He grabbed the back of your neck and returned your face to the mat. “No. I want you like this. Now get your ass up nice and high for me.”

You obeyed, arching your back to display your cunt for the prince. He kept his hand on your neck as he caressed your backside, then allowed his cock to rest against you.

“Good girl. Now take me. Take me like the bitch you are.”

He teased your entrance with his cockhead, dragging it to brush against your clit then back to your awaiting slit. On his knees over you, he firmly started pressing the head into you, watching it disappear, then reappear with your arousal covering it. He moaned your name in praise as he pushed himself in further.

“That’s it, take my cock,” he panted. Your back muscles clenched as he sheathed himself.

“Fuuuuck, you feel so good!” you cried. “Fuck me Prince, please.”

Vegeta’s hips rocked into yours as he bottomed out, giving you the delicious stretch you craved. Your tail instinctively wrapped around one of his thighs as he withdrew. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as the prince worked up to a rough rhythm, pounding you into the mat.

“Ahh! Fuck yes, fuck yes Vegeta,” you moaned as your hands clawed the mat for purchase. You dug your elbows in and threw your hips back against him as he fucked you, flesh smacking flesh in a sinful sound that echoed off the concrete walls.

“Your cunt is perfect,” he grunted. “Fucking perfect.” He watched each thrust ripple through your ass, driving his quickly approaching orgasm. Laying over you, he kissed, sucked and bit at your shoulders as he fucked you. His cock drove deep and hard making you whine in delight.

“Keep making those sounds for me, princess,” he commanded in your ear. “Knew you’d be a good girl, knew you’d beg for your prince.”

“Mm, anything for you Vegeta. Wanted you to fill me up for so long!”

His speed and power increased as he neared his climax. His breaths were short, exasperated gasps of pleasure accentuated by groans and moans from deep in his throat.

“You want me to cum in your tight little cunt? That what you want?” he asked, biting at your ear. You couldn’t even form words and only nodded and moaned.

He grunted with a fiery passion as he pounded you with bruising force. He held your hip firmly in place, fucking you like he’d never get another chance. His sounds became more broken, more honeyed until he finally snapped his pelvis against your plush ass with a guttural moan.

“Gahh, ahh ah ahh!” Vegeta cried out, nearly knocking the breath out of you as he came with powerful final thrusts. You whimpered beneath him, squeezing his pulsing cock with your walls. He panted desperately as he came down from his high, collapsing fully onto you while staying sheathed in your heat. As your tail loosened its grip on his thigh, he reached down to twirl it between his fingers. The intimate gesture filled your stomach with warmth as he laid his weight into you. Once the prince caught his breath, he brushed your wild hair away and nuzzled into the back of your neck. 

“Fucking perfect, perfect little cunt. But now that I’ve gotten my way,” his voice rasped. “It’s your turn, my princess.” Your heart jolted at his suggestion.

“Not tapping out?” you chuckled as he played with your tail.

He scoffed. “Just because I come first doesn’t mean you don’t come at all. Need to feel you shaking in my arms.”

Vegeta finally pulled out from your pussy, causing his cum to spill out and onto the mat, leaving you empty, but not yet spent. You rolled onto your back and sat up, finally stripping off your bra. The prince’s eyes grew hungry at the sight of your breasts. Vegeta returned his lips to yours in a slow, sensual kiss, surprising you after how forcefully he had fucked you. His hands roamed all over your neck, into your hair, over your nipples as he lapped at your tongue. You wrapped your arms around his muscled shoulders, pressing chest to chest as you made out, steamy breaths in between kisses.

Vegeta sat back on the mat with his legs wide and invited you to sit between them, back against his firm pectorals and abs. He brushed your hair away and bit your ear before breathing sweet nothings into it.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “So incredibly sexy, it’s been driving me mad.” You sighed as his hands caressed your skin, kneading your thigh and breast as he kissed your neck. “Took you damn long enough to make your move, you know,” he said.

You laughed and melted into his touch like a wilting flower. “Oh, you know Saiyan women. We like to tease. But I just couldn’t keep my hands off you any longer.”

Vegeta licked and sucked your skin, his head dizzy at the soft mewls you let out. His fingers began to tease your sensitive entrance, still slick with his cum. He traced around the perimeter, then upward over your clit. You shuddered and moaned.

“That’s it, princess. Let me make you tremble,” he growled.

He pinched and pulled at your nipple with one hand and worked your pussy with the other, dipping his fingers deep inside and using the heel of his palm to rub your clit. You writhed against his chest and clawed into his thigh while he twirled your tail around his hand. He gave it a light squeeze, sending a pulse of pleasure up through your spine.

“Mnnh, Vegeta, you’re so fucking good,” you breathed as he finger-fucked you. You matched his rhythm with your hips as the intensity began building. You turned your head to the side and kissed him feverishly, moaning into his mouth. The taste of his tongue was addicting. 

His fingers slid into you with the most perfect friction, hitting your sweet spot thrust after thrust. Vegeta wrapped an arm around your waist, as if any space between your bodies was too much. He pressed his head against yours as you chased and humped his hand. You clutched his bulging forearm, guiding him to touch you just right.

Feeling the steady approach of white-hot bliss, you squealed. “Mm! Gonna cum!” 

“Do it. Cum for me. Cum for your prince.”

You called his name, clinging to him tightly as the rush came. “Haaahhh, fuck Vegeta!” you cried out. Your back arched like a cracking whip and shock waves of sweet euphoria crashed over you. Your body quaked just like he wanted, making him chuckle in pride.

“That’s it,” he cooed in your ear as he stroked your tail and nuzzled against you. You clenched his fingers within you as he pressed his palm into your clit, coaxing out more shuddering pleasure. “That’s my princess.”

“Goddamn, that was so good,” you praised, collapsing into him completely as the aftershocks pulsed through you.

He kissed your shoulder, licking the salt of your sweat. “You’re too fucking loud, you brat. You want the whole city to know what we’re up to?”

You laughed and shoved Vegeta to the ground so you could lay on top of him. “I don’t give a shit. They deserve to know who made me cum so hard.”

He smirked and held you against his sweaty chest. “Damn right.”

“And you weren’t exactly quiet either, Prince of all Saiyans,” you teased, feeling his cock had hardened again. You reached down to stroke it, but he caught your wrist and brought it to his lips.

“I have self-control when I need to.” He closed his eyes and kissed your wrist and fingers. “We should hit the showers for the night.”

You hummed and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you made quite a mess of me. Thought you might be interested in another round, but if you don’t have the stamina-”

His eyes shot open and he squeezed your hand. “I didn’t say we should hit the showers separately, did I?”

dbz masterlist

[kamreadsandrecs]

It would be easy, if you were a person who read women often but spoke to them rarely, to imagine that contemporary women hate men. Scholars write books and essays about how tragic heterosexuality is; queer writers in and out of the academy pity straight girls, who, in turn, bemoan their fate on social media or in personal essays that go viral there.1 Some go so far as to suggest that no women genuinely enjoy heterosexual sex, but most confine themselves to the idea, or the performance of the idea, that heterosexual love is second-rate and doomed. Fiction isn’t immune. In recent literary novels like Lillian Fishman’s Acts of Service or Katherine Lin’s You Can’t Stay Here Forever, good sex between men and women abounds, but a good man is hard to find. In a March New York Times piece on the revival of Norman Rush’s 1991 novel Mating, Marie Solis wrote that the book’s fans “have noted that a largely positive portrayal of love relationships in general, and heterosexual relationships in particular, is a rarity in fiction.” (Rush’s fans, evidently, are not reading romance.)

It would also be easy, if you had read about the writer Rachel Ingalls’s work but never opened one of her electrically strange short books, to see her as an early adopter of today’s men-are-trash-ism, which the writer Asa Seresin has referred to as “heteropessimism.”2 Ingalls is certainly a bard of what John Updike, describing her 1983 novel Mrs. Caliban, called “a deep female sadness that makes us stare,” yet the madcap spirit that suffuses her writing keeps it from being fatalistic. She gravitates toward the odd aside, the baffling phenomenon, the bloody ending. But she never betrays what’s happening next in her stories—foreshadowing is unthinkable. This unpredictability is her aesthetic and philosophical hallmark.

It is true that the single strongest current running through Ingalls’s fiction is the boundary-shattering energy of female desire, which, whether satisfied or denied, she depicts as both a life-giving force and a destroyer of worlds. And when Ingalls writes about denied desire, the culprit is generally a negligent husband. Marriage is not an appealing prospect in her fiction. Consider In the Act (1987), recently reissued in the UK as part of No Love Lost, a collection of eight of her novellas,and in the US as a slim standalone. It opens with a man named Edgar telling his wife, Helen, that she’s being unreasonable. “Of course I am. I’m a woman,” Helen shoots back. “You’ve already explained that to me.”

Edgar is a great explainer. Ingalls, who is masterful at skewering her characters, writes that he wins arguments by explaining his side in a tone that is “knowing, didactic, often sarcastic or hectoring. Whenever he used it outside the house, it made him disliked.” Whether he’s liked in the house is unclear. Helen mainly seems exasperated with her husband at the beginning of In the Act, but Ingalls does let the reader know that, when he so chooses, he’s good enough in bed that Helen is both “satisfied [and] surprised.” Mainly, though, Edgar uses sex to pacify Helen so she’ll stay out of his attic lab, on which he has placed a Bluebeard-esque prohibition. When she enters anyway, she discovers that he’s been building an animatronic sex doll.

Though Edgar’s doll is highly realistic, in an idealized, pornographic way—“Pubic hair and nipples everywhere you look,” Helen sputters, describing her—Edgar betrays his fundamental lack of imagination by dressing her in the flouncy, childish clothes an expensive doll would wear and naming her Dolly. Although Edgar is a good inventor, he is, like many Ingalls husbands, a fool. However, that doesn’t mean all her men are.

Ingalls’s female protagonists share an instinctive faith that, no matter how disappointing their men are, better ones are out there. For them, men are often a dream, a repository and symbol of hope that goes far beyond the sexual. Crucially, that hope is often met, though rarely in the way one would expect (or, in some cases, want). Patricia Lockwood writes in her foreword to No Love Lost that the word “man” “shines in her writing the way the word ‘shop’ does: a place to walk into, spin around till your skirt flares and at last get everything you want.” Lockwood’s description captures the 1950s tenor of Ingalls’s work, but the truth is, nobody in an Ingalls story is longing for stuff. For her women, getting everything you want is an emotional prospect. They long for pure and sustained male attention paid equally to their bodies and their minds. When they get it, it brings them back to life.

Ingalls herself lived, as far as anyone knows, a peaceful life: she was not one for interviews or press. She was born in Massachusetts in 1940; her father was a Harvard Sanskrit professor, and her mother, like so many of Ingalls’s protagonists, stayed home. After graduating from Radcliffe in 1964, Ingalls moved to England, where she wrote in relative obscurity until 1986, when the British Book Marketing Council surprised readers by naming her Mrs. Caliban one of the twenty best postwar novels by American writers.

Mrs. Caliban is very short—hardly long enough to qualify as a novel rather than a novella—and, like many of Ingalls’s works, feels distinctly American despite her expatriation: it is set in an unspecified suburb that feels Southern Californian, a place where cars, malls, and chitchat rule. At the book’s start, a lonely housewife named Dorothy is grieving the death of her son, Scotty, years ago, as well as a subsequent miscarriage; then her poor little dog, Bingo, was killed by a car, leaving Dorothy feeling that “everything near her died…. It was a wonder the grass on the front lawn didn’t turn around and sink back into the earth.” Her husband, Fred, a callous jerk at the best of times, withdraws from her grief. Dorothy’s misery is so flattening and absolute that she is, as she tells her friend Estelle, “too unhappy to get a divorce.” She is not, however, too morose to start a steamy affair with a giant humanoid frog.

Larry, Mrs. Caliban’s frog-man, turns up at Dorothy’s house in need of shelter. He’s on the run, having killed a pair of sadistic scientists who captured him in the Gulf of Mexico and performed experiments on him. Dorothy takes Larry in without a second thought. Before long, she’s teaching him how to sleep with a human woman, which seems uncomplicated, since his body is “exactly like [that of] a man—a well-built large man—except that he was a dark spotted green-brown in colour.” Larry and Dorothy fall in love, about which the novel leaves no room for doubt: this is a good thing, and readers should root for it. Yes, Larry has webbed hands and feet and his true home is under the ocean, but his species is far less important than his effect on Dorothy. Once she and Larry get together, she lights up almost instantly. She’s sneaking around the suburbs with him at night, sewing gigantic wigs for him by day to disguise his green head when he goes out. She’s having a great time, and it’s lucky for both her and Larry that Fred is too oblivious to notice.

Ingalls writes Mrs. Caliban with a breezy matter-of-factness that chimes with Dorothy’s desire for Fred to keep looking away from her new happiness, from their guest room where Larry is staying, from the sacks of avocados—Larry’s pricey favorite snack—that she’s suddenly buying. The novella’s tone all but shouts, “Nothing to see here!” Her writing does not invite readers to slow down. But her sentences reward anyone who has the willpower to pause. In one of the very few moments when Dorothy herself stops moving, she sits on the beach, waiting for Larry to surface from a night swim in the ocean:

But down there it would be dark now, and not the lovely lighted aquarium she imagined it to be during the daylight hours, eddying with schools of tiny, delicate animals floating and dancing slowly to their own serene currents and creating the look of a living painting. That was wrong, in any case. The ocean was different from an aquarium, which was an artificial environment.

In these three sentences, beauty and fantasy give way abruptly to Dorothy’s understanding that she’s fallen for a wild creature. She can keep Larry in her guest room, but not forever. No matter how much she enjoys floating on the current of love that runs between them, he’s going to go back to the ocean someday.

Love and wildness collide again in Binstead’s Safari (1983). Millie Binstead, ignored for years by her anthropologist spouse, Stan, comes roaring into her own after starting a hot safari-town romance with a hunter and lion expert named Henry “Simba” Lewis who promises to marry her once she gets rid of her husband. Stan, a stereotypical academic, is almost constitutionally incapable of noticing things, but he realizes rapidly that Millie has made contact with a new and powerful side of herself. Mainly what he sees is the sexual wildness Lewis has awakened in her, though he recognizes it only in the form of his own sudden desperation to sleep with her after years of disinterest. He gets even hornier once she asks for a divorce. “I don’t know what you think you’re proving,” he grouses after she turns him down one morning. “I’m having wet dreams now.” Millie, whose prince is finally coming, couldn’t care less.

Binstead’s Safari is Ingalls’s longest novel, and its length allows her to contrast Millie’s relationships with both Stan and Lewis with slower forms of love that rarely appear in her shorter works. Ian, the Binsteads’ main guide, has a steady, calm relationship with his wife, Pippa; his younger colleague Nicholas, meanwhile, is quietly frantic over his wife, Jill, whose recent nervous breakdown has left her unable to care for their children. Nicholas has to keep earning but plainly longs for her. Every letter she writes sends him into a spiral of misery that Millie, herself longing for Lewis, talks him through. In one of her arguments with Stan, she holds Nicholas up as an example, saying, “Everybody thinks Jill is in a mess—at least Nicholas is on her side. What I’m trying to say is that for some reason, it made you feel good every time I failed at something.”

Millie and Lewis don’t get as far as marriage, and it’s safe to assume that, if they did, it wouldn’t be a union like either Ian and Pippa’s or Nicholas and Jill’s. Depending on how you interpret the end of Binstead’s Safari, Lewis may be a lion-god in human guise (I think he is), and myths across cultures tell us that gods and women rarely have long relationships rooted in empathy. Ingalls herself presumably agrees: in Mrs. Caliban Dorothy knows that the fact that Larry’s a frog-man means they have no long-term future. But the long term isn’t absent from Ingalls’s writing. In the Act is very much about a woman who wants an Ian-and-Pippa-style marriage. What Helen wants—what she yearns for—is sustained love, sexual connection, and affection from a real human man. She wants them so badly she’d do just about anything.

In the Act seems initially to be about artificiality, not wildness. Helen is, after all, in marital competition with a sex robot—except that the competition, once discovered, lasts less than an afternoon. Within moments of finding Dolly in her husband’s attic lab, Helen has hauled her off to a train-station storage locker, from which she will soon be stolen by a lunk named Ron (more on him later).

Helen’s fury makes her both decisive and powerful. It also releases her own wildness, though not in quite the same way the lion-god and lizard-man relationships in Binstead’s Safari and Mrs. Caliban do. Dorothy and Millie need to reencounter pleasure in a way Helen does not. She’s fully in touch with her sexuality, though anger gives it a new edge. Ingalls takes advantage of the novella form’s brevity to convey the 0-to-100 intensity of Helen’s intertwined emotions without having to tease them out. She describes Helen’s initial confrontation with Edgar about Dolly in the language of a high-quality orgasm:

She thought she might begin to rise from the floor with the rush of excitement, the wonderful elation: dizzying, intoxicating, triumphant…. It was as if she’d been grabbed by something out of the sky, and pulled up; she was going higher and higher.

In that state, Helen tells Edgar he’s getting Dolly back only if he makes a “real stud” for her.

It’s deeply satisfying to watch Helen assert herself over Edgar, but Ingalls—here and throughout her work—does not rest on that satisfaction. She seems to delight in dipping into the minds of the awful husbands she writes. In the Act visits Edgar’s as he works night and day on sex robot #2, fuming all the while about Helen’s bad moods, her lackluster cooking, her tendency to “wear really dumpy clothes that he didn’t like.” It offends him to “be so hard at work, wasting the strength of his body and brain on the creation of a thing intended to give her pleasure.” But it offends him even more when, after a weekend with her doll, Helen informs him that she’s bored. In bed, the male robot, whom she names Automatico—Auto for short—is “without subtlety, charm, surprise, or even much variety. She didn’t believe that her husband had tried to shortchange her; he simply hadn’t had the ingenuity to program a better model.”

Helen asks Edgar to improve Auto, but after days back in the lab, the doll still fails to impress. “Perhaps no alterations would make any difference,” Ingalls writes. “Maybe [Helen] just wanted him to be real, even if he was boring. Edgar evidently felt the other way…. The element of fantasy stimulated him.” It speaks to Ingalls’s attitudes about both gender and imagination that the former doesn’t enter the equation here. Helen doesn’t argue to herself that men need fantasy, women reality. It would hardly be consistent with Ingalls’s broader body of work if she did. Dorothy, for example, falls for Larry not just because she needs attention but because she needs the mental escape offered by letting herself love a being others wouldn’t even believe in. More importantly, though, Ingalls is not a generalizer—which is perhaps how she manages, despite the terribleness of the husbands she writes about, to remain so committed to male possibility.

In the Act’s symbol of that possibility is Ron, a musclebound petty criminal. He’s the one who steals Dolly from the train-station locker where Helen stashes her, hoping for something to sell. Instead, he gets his true love. Ron yearns for Dolly to be real. He sees her robot nature as a tragic, irremediable flaw, which he nevertheless tries to overcome. He buys her casual clothes and L.L.Bean duck boots (a rare moment of proper-noun Americana in Ingalls’s work) to replace the absurdly frilly outfit Edgar chose. He takes her on the bus, to his sister’s house, and to hang out with his gym buddies, but none of these outings succeeds in making her seem more human. Only Ron, in the privacy of his imagination, can do that.

When Helen comes into contact with Ron, she recognizes him not as a kindred spirit, but as the best sexual option on offer, bringing hope to the despair into which Auto’s failure to satisfy has plunged her. Ron is not the person Helen wants to be with, but she still instantly clocks him as “more the kind of thing I had in mind…to wind up and go to bed with.” She’s objectifying him here, of course—it’s not exactly respectful to call someone “the kind of thing I had in mind”—but what she’s attracted to is his rough humanity. Looking at him reminds her of what she wants, and what she believes she can have: sex with a human man who projects physical power, and who wants a woman rather than a doll.

In the Act doesn’t quite have a happy ending. Helen leaves the story with much more strength and self-knowledge than she has at the start, but when she realizes that she would prefer a boring real man to an inexhaustible sex robot (who, post modification, can also teach her Italian and gourmet cooking), it’s at the same moment that she accepts that her husband finds reality a turn-off. Up to a point, having a happy long-term relationship, whether it’s a marriage or not, requires wanting a real person—which, in turn, requires accepting some boredom. It is impossible to be intimate with someone over time without coming to understand them, to know their habits, to be able to predict some of what they will do and say next. Edgar and Helen both know this, but Edgar doesn’t know anything else. Helen, in contrast, recognizes the other side of the equation: with intimacy, and being known, comes the pleasure of receiving someone’s deep attention, and of paying deep attention to someone else. Martin Buber called this the I–Thou relationship; most of us just call it love.

In I See a Long Journey, one of the other novellas in No Love Lost, Ingalls writes a variation of the love story Helen dreams of. Its heroine, Flora, marries a wealthy man named James when she’s very young and grows paranoid as a result of her new economic status. James does not understand this at first, but by the time the story’s main action starts, he’s figured Flora’s anxiety out enough to both take her on vacation as a distraction and to bring along his driver, Michael, as an unofficial bodyguard, knowing the other man’s presence will enable Flora to relax. Flora’s faith in Michael’s protective abilities facilitates intimacy, physical and emotional, between Flora and James, while also ripening into its own kind of love.

Early in the vacation, before things go sideways—this is, after all, a Rachel Ingalls story—Flora and James sit at breakfast, with Michael

seated alone at a table for two several yards beyond them. Flora had them both in view, Michael and James. She felt her face beginning to smile. At that moment she couldn’t imagine herself returning from the trip.

Such contentment is nowhere in In the Act, but Helen knows she wants it. In Binstead’s Safari and Mrs. Caliban, Millie and Dorothy get flickers of it from Simba and Larry. It would be going too far to say that Flora’s off-kilter marital satisfaction is the goal toward which Ingalls’s heroines move, but it is certainly one they believe in. Her women are optimists. Romantics, too.

It may well be the case that Ingalls’s work is gaining in popularity both because female romantics are so rare in contemporary literary fiction and because her romantics are so odd. After years of two-steps-forward-one-step-back feminist progress in the United States, epitomized most recently by the overturning of Roe v. Wade, it can be tough to swallow unquestioned female longing for men in fiction, at least if you’re the sort of woman who questions your own desire. Ingalls puts interrogated longing on the page in ways both supernatural and mundane. Her style makes the former seem no stranger than the latter. Ingalls reminds her readers that desire is weird, surprising, uncontrollable, likely to end badly—and worth pursuing nonetheless.

[kammartinez]

It would be easy, if you were a person who read women often but spoke to them rarely, to imagine that contemporary women hate men. Scholars write books and essays about how tragic heterosexuality is; queer writers in and out of the academy pity straight girls, who, in turn, bemoan their fate on social media or in personal essays that go viral there.1 Some go so far as to suggest that no women genuinely enjoy heterosexual sex, but most confine themselves to the idea, or the performance of the idea, that heterosexual love is second-rate and doomed. Fiction isn’t immune. In recent literary novels like Lillian Fishman’s Acts of Service or Katherine Lin’s You Can’t Stay Here Forever, good sex between men and women abounds, but a good man is hard to find. In a March New York Times piece on the revival of Norman Rush’s 1991 novel Mating, Marie Solis wrote that the book’s fans “have noted that a largely positive portrayal of love relationships in general, and heterosexual relationships in particular, is a rarity in fiction.” (Rush’s fans, evidently, are not reading romance.)

It would also be easy, if you had read about the writer Rachel Ingalls’s work but never opened one of her electrically strange short books, to see her as an early adopter of today’s men-are-trash-ism, which the writer Asa Seresin has referred to as “heteropessimism.”2 Ingalls is certainly a bard of what John Updike, describing her 1983 novel Mrs. Caliban, called “a deep female sadness that makes us stare,” yet the madcap spirit that suffuses her writing keeps it from being fatalistic. She gravitates toward the odd aside, the baffling phenomenon, the bloody ending. But she never betrays what’s happening next in her stories—foreshadowing is unthinkable. This unpredictability is her aesthetic and philosophical hallmark.

It is true that the single strongest current running through Ingalls’s fiction is the boundary-shattering energy of female desire, which, whether satisfied or denied, she depicts as both a life-giving force and a destroyer of worlds. And when Ingalls writes about denied desire, the culprit is generally a negligent husband. Marriage is not an appealing prospect in her fiction. Consider In the Act (1987), recently reissued in the UK as part of No Love Lost, a collection of eight of her novellas,and in the US as a slim standalone. It opens with a man named Edgar telling his wife, Helen, that she’s being unreasonable. “Of course I am. I’m a woman,” Helen shoots back. “You’ve already explained that to me.”

Edgar is a great explainer. Ingalls, who is masterful at skewering her characters, writes that he wins arguments by explaining his side in a tone that is “knowing, didactic, often sarcastic or hectoring. Whenever he used it outside the house, it made him disliked.” Whether he’s liked in the house is unclear. Helen mainly seems exasperated with her husband at the beginning of In the Act, but Ingalls does let the reader know that, when he so chooses, he’s good enough in bed that Helen is both “satisfied [and] surprised.” Mainly, though, Edgar uses sex to pacify Helen so she’ll stay out of his attic lab, on which he has placed a Bluebeard-esque prohibition. When she enters anyway, she discovers that he’s been building an animatronic sex doll.

Though Edgar’s doll is highly realistic, in an idealized, pornographic way—“Pubic hair and nipples everywhere you look,” Helen sputters, describing her—Edgar betrays his fundamental lack of imagination by dressing her in the flouncy, childish clothes an expensive doll would wear and naming her Dolly. Although Edgar is a good inventor, he is, like many Ingalls husbands, a fool. However, that doesn’t mean all her men are.

Ingalls’s female protagonists share an instinctive faith that, no matter how disappointing their men are, better ones are out there. For them, men are often a dream, a repository and symbol of hope that goes far beyond the sexual. Crucially, that hope is often met, though rarely in the way one would expect (or, in some cases, want). Patricia Lockwood writes in her foreword to No Love Lost that the word “man” “shines in her writing the way the word ‘shop’ does: a place to walk into, spin around till your skirt flares and at last get everything you want.” Lockwood’s description captures the 1950s tenor of Ingalls’s work, but the truth is, nobody in an Ingalls story is longing for stuff. For her women, getting everything you want is an emotional prospect. They long for pure and sustained male attention paid equally to their bodies and their minds. When they get it, it brings them back to life.

Ingalls herself lived, as far as anyone knows, a peaceful life: she was not one for interviews or press. She was born in Massachusetts in 1940; her father was a Harvard Sanskrit professor, and her mother, like so many of Ingalls’s protagonists, stayed home. After graduating from Radcliffe in 1964, Ingalls moved to England, where she wrote in relative obscurity until 1986, when the British Book Marketing Council surprised readers by naming her Mrs. Caliban one of the twenty best postwar novels by American writers.

Mrs. Caliban is very short—hardly long enough to qualify as a novel rather than a novella—and, like many of Ingalls’s works, feels distinctly American despite her expatriation: it is set in an unspecified suburb that feels Southern Californian, a place where cars, malls, and chitchat rule. At the book’s start, a lonely housewife named Dorothy is grieving the death of her son, Scotty, years ago, as well as a subsequent miscarriage; then her poor little dog, Bingo, was killed by a car, leaving Dorothy feeling that “everything near her died…. It was a wonder the grass on the front lawn didn’t turn around and sink back into the earth.” Her husband, Fred, a callous jerk at the best of times, withdraws from her grief. Dorothy’s misery is so flattening and absolute that she is, as she tells her friend Estelle, “too unhappy to get a divorce.” She is not, however, too morose to start a steamy affair with a giant humanoid frog.

Larry, Mrs. Caliban’s frog-man, turns up at Dorothy’s house in need of shelter. He’s on the run, having killed a pair of sadistic scientists who captured him in the Gulf of Mexico and performed experiments on him. Dorothy takes Larry in without a second thought. Before long, she’s teaching him how to sleep with a human woman, which seems uncomplicated, since his body is “exactly like [that of] a man—a well-built large man—except that he was a dark spotted green-brown in colour.” Larry and Dorothy fall in love, about which the novel leaves no room for doubt: this is a good thing, and readers should root for it. Yes, Larry has webbed hands and feet and his true home is under the ocean, but his species is far less important than his effect on Dorothy. Once she and Larry get together, she lights up almost instantly. She’s sneaking around the suburbs with him at night, sewing gigantic wigs for him by day to disguise his green head when he goes out. She’s having a great time, and it’s lucky for both her and Larry that Fred is too oblivious to notice.

Ingalls writes Mrs. Caliban with a breezy matter-of-factness that chimes with Dorothy’s desire for Fred to keep looking away from her new happiness, from their guest room where Larry is staying, from the sacks of avocados—Larry’s pricey favorite snack—that she’s suddenly buying. The novella’s tone all but shouts, “Nothing to see here!” Her writing does not invite readers to slow down. But her sentences reward anyone who has the willpower to pause. In one of the very few moments when Dorothy herself stops moving, she sits on the beach, waiting for Larry to surface from a night swim in the ocean:

But down there it would be dark now, and not the lovely lighted aquarium she imagined it to be during the daylight hours, eddying with schools of tiny, delicate animals floating and dancing slowly to their own serene currents and creating the look of a living painting. That was wrong, in any case. The ocean was different from an aquarium, which was an artificial environment.

In these three sentences, beauty and fantasy give way abruptly to Dorothy’s understanding that she’s fallen for a wild creature. She can keep Larry in her guest room, but not forever. No matter how much she enjoys floating on the current of love that runs between them, he’s going to go back to the ocean someday.

Love and wildness collide again in Binstead’s Safari (1983). Millie Binstead, ignored for years by her anthropologist spouse, Stan, comes roaring into her own after starting a hot safari-town romance with a hunter and lion expert named Henry “Simba” Lewis who promises to marry her once she gets rid of her husband. Stan, a stereotypical academic, is almost constitutionally incapable of noticing things, but he realizes rapidly that Millie has made contact with a new and powerful side of herself. Mainly what he sees is the sexual wildness Lewis has awakened in her, though he recognizes it only in the form of his own sudden desperation to sleep with her after years of disinterest. He gets even hornier once she asks for a divorce. “I don’t know what you think you’re proving,” he grouses after she turns him down one morning. “I’m having wet dreams now.” Millie, whose prince is finally coming, couldn’t care less.

Binstead’s Safari is Ingalls’s longest novel, and its length allows her to contrast Millie’s relationships with both Stan and Lewis with slower forms of love that rarely appear in her shorter works. Ian, the Binsteads’ main guide, has a steady, calm relationship with his wife, Pippa; his younger colleague Nicholas, meanwhile, is quietly frantic over his wife, Jill, whose recent nervous breakdown has left her unable to care for their children. Nicholas has to keep earning but plainly longs for her. Every letter she writes sends him into a spiral of misery that Millie, herself longing for Lewis, talks him through. In one of her arguments with Stan, she holds Nicholas up as an example, saying, “Everybody thinks Jill is in a mess—at least Nicholas is on her side. What I’m trying to say is that for some reason, it made you feel good every time I failed at something.”

Millie and Lewis don’t get as far as marriage, and it’s safe to assume that, if they did, it wouldn’t be a union like either Ian and Pippa’s or Nicholas and Jill’s. Depending on how you interpret the end of Binstead’s Safari, Lewis may be a lion-god in human guise (I think he is), and myths across cultures tell us that gods and women rarely have long relationships rooted in empathy. Ingalls herself presumably agrees: in Mrs. Caliban Dorothy knows that the fact that Larry’s a frog-man means they have no long-term future. But the long term isn’t absent from Ingalls’s writing. In the Act is very much about a woman who wants an Ian-and-Pippa-style marriage. What Helen wants—what she yearns for—is sustained love, sexual connection, and affection from a real human man. She wants them so badly she’d do just about anything.

In the Act seems initially to be about artificiality, not wildness. Helen is, after all, in marital competition with a sex robot—except that the competition, once discovered, lasts less than an afternoon. Within moments of finding Dolly in her husband’s attic lab, Helen has hauled her off to a train-station storage locker, from which she will soon be stolen by a lunk named Ron (more on him later).

Helen’s fury makes her both decisive and powerful. It also releases her own wildness, though not in quite the same way the lion-god and lizard-man relationships in Binstead’s Safari and Mrs. Caliban do. Dorothy and Millie need to reencounter pleasure in a way Helen does not. She’s fully in touch with her sexuality, though anger gives it a new edge. Ingalls takes advantage of the novella form’s brevity to convey the 0-to-100 intensity of Helen’s intertwined emotions without having to tease them out. She describes Helen’s initial confrontation with Edgar about Dolly in the language of a high-quality orgasm:

She thought she might begin to rise from the floor with the rush of excitement, the wonderful elation: dizzying, intoxicating, triumphant…. It was as if she’d been grabbed by something out of the sky, and pulled up; she was going higher and higher.

In that state, Helen tells Edgar he’s getting Dolly back only if he makes a “real stud” for her.

It’s deeply satisfying to watch Helen assert herself over Edgar, but Ingalls—here and throughout her work—does not rest on that satisfaction. She seems to delight in dipping into the minds of the awful husbands she writes. In the Act visits Edgar’s as he works night and day on sex robot #2, fuming all the while about Helen’s bad moods, her lackluster cooking, her tendency to “wear really dumpy clothes that he didn’t like.” It offends him to “be so hard at work, wasting the strength of his body and brain on the creation of a thing intended to give her pleasure.” But it offends him even more when, after a weekend with her doll, Helen informs him that she’s bored. In bed, the male robot, whom she names Automatico—Auto for short—is “without subtlety, charm, surprise, or even much variety. She didn’t believe that her husband had tried to shortchange her; he simply hadn’t had the ingenuity to program a better model.”

Helen asks Edgar to improve Auto, but after days back in the lab, the doll still fails to impress. “Perhaps no alterations would make any difference,” Ingalls writes. “Maybe [Helen] just wanted him to be real, even if he was boring. Edgar evidently felt the other way…. The element of fantasy stimulated him.” It speaks to Ingalls’s attitudes about both gender and imagination that the former doesn’t enter the equation here. Helen doesn’t argue to herself that men need fantasy, women reality. It would hardly be consistent with Ingalls’s broader body of work if she did. Dorothy, for example, falls for Larry not just because she needs attention but because she needs the mental escape offered by letting herself love a being others wouldn’t even believe in. More importantly, though, Ingalls is not a generalizer—which is perhaps how she manages, despite the terribleness of the husbands she writes about, to remain so committed to male possibility.

In the Act’s symbol of that possibility is Ron, a musclebound petty criminal. He’s the one who steals Dolly from the train-station locker where Helen stashes her, hoping for something to sell. Instead, he gets his true love. Ron yearns for Dolly to be real. He sees her robot nature as a tragic, irremediable flaw, which he nevertheless tries to overcome. He buys her casual clothes and L.L.Bean duck boots (a rare moment of proper-noun Americana in Ingalls’s work) to replace the absurdly frilly outfit Edgar chose. He takes her on the bus, to his sister’s house, and to hang out with his gym buddies, but none of these outings succeeds in making her seem more human. Only Ron, in the privacy of his imagination, can do that.

When Helen comes into contact with Ron, she recognizes him not as a kindred spirit, but as the best sexual option on offer, bringing hope to the despair into which Auto’s failure to satisfy has plunged her. Ron is not the person Helen wants to be with, but she still instantly clocks him as “more the kind of thing I had in mind…to wind up and go to bed with.” She’s objectifying him here, of course—it’s not exactly respectful to call someone “the kind of thing I had in mind”—but what she’s attracted to is his rough humanity. Looking at him reminds her of what she wants, and what she believes she can have: sex with a human man who projects physical power, and who wants a woman rather than a doll.

In the Act doesn’t quite have a happy ending. Helen leaves the story with much more strength and self-knowledge than she has at the start, but when she realizes that she would prefer a boring real man to an inexhaustible sex robot (who, post modification, can also teach her Italian and gourmet cooking), it’s at the same moment that she accepts that her husband finds reality a turn-off. Up to a point, having a happy long-term relationship, whether it’s a marriage or not, requires wanting a real person—which, in turn, requires accepting some boredom. It is impossible to be intimate with someone over time without coming to understand them, to know their habits, to be able to predict some of what they will do and say next. Edgar and Helen both know this, but Edgar doesn’t know anything else. Helen, in contrast, recognizes the other side of the equation: with intimacy, and being known, comes the pleasure of receiving someone’s deep attention, and of paying deep attention to someone else. Martin Buber called this the I–Thou relationship; most of us just call it love.

In I See a Long Journey, one of the other novellas in No Love Lost, Ingalls writes a variation of the love story Helen dreams of. Its heroine, Flora, marries a wealthy man named James when she’s very young and grows paranoid as a result of her new economic status. James does not understand this at first, but by the time the story’s main action starts, he’s figured Flora’s anxiety out enough to both take her on vacation as a distraction and to bring along his driver, Michael, as an unofficial bodyguard, knowing the other man’s presence will enable Flora to relax. Flora’s faith in Michael’s protective abilities facilitates intimacy, physical and emotional, between Flora and James, while also ripening into its own kind of love.

Early in the vacation, before things go sideways—this is, after all, a Rachel Ingalls story—Flora and James sit at breakfast, with Michael

seated alone at a table for two several yards beyond them. Flora had them both in view, Michael and James. She felt her face beginning to smile. At that moment she couldn’t imagine herself returning from the trip.

Such contentment is nowhere in In the Act, but Helen knows she wants it. In Binstead’s Safari and Mrs. Caliban, Millie and Dorothy get flickers of it from Simba and Larry. It would be going too far to say that Flora’s off-kilter marital satisfaction is the goal toward which Ingalls’s heroines move, but it is certainly one they believe in. Her women are optimists. Romantics, too.

It may well be the case that Ingalls’s work is gaining in popularity both because female romantics are so rare in contemporary literary fiction and because her romantics are so odd. After years of two-steps-forward-one-step-back feminist progress in the United States, epitomized most recently by the overturning of Roe v. Wade, it can be tough to swallow unquestioned female longing for men in fiction, at least if you’re the sort of woman who questions your own desire. Ingalls puts interrogated longing on the page in ways both supernatural and mundane. Her style makes the former seem no stranger than the latter. Ingalls reminds her readers that desire is weird, surprising, uncontrollable, likely to end badly—and worth pursuing nonetheless.

[empireofvultures]

Took a long break from writing. Label says they love the new album, so I’m feeling good to go for writing the next batch. It feels daunting to start again. Never sure if I’ll spin my wheels for a year, or immediately find catchy melodies. Every month my bandmate/producer has a new direction he wants us to try. I have to try and keep us steady and moving forward. The game is still often to try and get him to think my ideas were his. 

I’m tired of my long hair. But I’m afraid to cut it. I don’t like how I look. I feel embarrassed to be a musician most of the time. Most of my heroes now have their hair short. Trying not to get radicalized online. It’s hard when you’re struggling not to have general rage at the world. A lot of my job is doing audio tech for political meetings of ministers and it’s infuriating watching and listening to the things they waste time/tax dollars on. Listening to a table full of wealthy women talk for three days about how can they get more women to drop their law career and join politics. Right now they are dropping Ayn Rand quotes and complimenting Margaret Thatcher. My indigenous coworker is getting 90 grand from his native band this december. I can’t help but feel angry I get nothing in life. Reading about people’s graduations makes me jealous. I sometimes think I wouldn’t have dropped out of I wasn’t paying for it myself.  

I’m reading a book called the body keeps score. Apparently constantly feeling numb, and immune to emotions/happiness is often a response to trauma. I can’t help but self diagnose the last couple of years to that. The extreme risk taking behavior with romance and everything else makes sense as a response to that. I’m addicted to steroids. I took 6 weeks off, but now I’m back on and I had that addict’s thought “I deserve to feel like this.” The crash will come. It would be easier to stop if I could stop eating. I keep using the testosterone to turn relationship weight into muscle. The intensity it adds to orgasms is also addicting.  I can’t write music without ritalin anymore. Not a real writing session. Played an outdoor music festival a few weeks ago. Went about as well as an opening slot could go.  My honeymoon phase has ended. I feel like I get happiness and boredom mixed up when my depression kicks back in. I’m trying to visualize my goals and future. It’s impossible. But not as impossible as it once was.

[dreamgrlarchive]

Self Care 101 🦋

In this post I’ll be outlining my current routines as they relate to self care. I’ll cover everything from head to toe making sure not to skip your spirit. You cannot be a girl of ANYONE’S dreams if you aren’t taking care of the most important person in your world: you.

mornings:

wash face with gentle cleanser from curology, tone with organic Mamonde rose water and finish with rich moisturizer and spf30

brush teeth with activated charcoal toothpaste by Crest and baking soda for whitening and gum clarity

take vitamins : woman’s one a day, hair skin nails, biotin, vitamin c

drink glass of water then a cup of tea

black tea, raw cane sugar, a lemon slice, ginger

good for energy, immune function, and detox

showers:

this may sound so extra (😅), but depending on my hairstyle, I sometimes like to let the shower run for about five minutes with the door closed to create a sauna effect. this is especially if I have a mask on my hair.

my showers usually are about 20-30 minutes

I have a back brush, pink exfoliating gloves, a loofah, and tree hut body scrubs and I use them ALL.

I wash first with my dove beauty bar to assure clean skin before washing with EITHER my OGX Shea So Soft body wash or Dove Renewing Peony and Rose Oil body wash to add scent or silkiness to my skin.

hair removal:

I haven’t yet mastered the art of waxing myself so I’m still riding the shave wave. *when I do I’ll make a post 4 that*

I exfoliate throughly before AND after shaving

I shave my entire body using Tree Hut Shaving Oil and a nice conditioner I’m not using. This leaves my skin super soft and silky and helps the razor to glide without skipping. I use Gillette Venus. no less than five blades, anything less is ASKING for nicks and a hard time.

when I don’t feel like shaving, I use Nair. use at your own risk. yes, I Nair my ENTIRE BODY. only leaving it on for about 7 minutes I rinse in WARM (not hot) water and exfoliate afterwards. it is imperative to moisturize after to avoid irritation. however, Nair is much easier to do than shaving and seems to last an inkling longer.

after shaving, once a month, I pull out my KENZZI. it’s an IPL device and it has helped to slow the growth of my hair. it’s noticeable for us long, thick haired chicks. I use the second to lowest setting as a melanated babe, as the higher settings could burn me.

I know many endorse the hair on women movement and I can understand it. But I personally love my skin silky, hairless, and smooth.

nights:

after eating dinner, I wash my face and apply the tiniest bit of glycolic serum and my curology night cream. my skin has been the best it’s been in a few years. then I brush my teeth and rinse with peroxide.

every four days I give myself a facial

my favorite face masks:

The Ordinary Salicylic Acid mask

The Ordinary AHA + BHA mask

all Tony Moly sheet masks *luvvvvv those*

GLAMGLOW SUPERMUD clearing treatment *fav*

Peter Thomas Roth Pumpkin Enzyme mask

Peter Thomas Roth Cucumber Gel mask

Peter Thomas Roth Irish Moor Mud mask

Peter Thomas Roth Rose Stem Cell Bio-Repair Gel mask

ORIGINS Clear Improvement mask

An at home honey and aloe mask

I apply a rich facial moisturizer and get to bed.

I then write in my planner my new plans and what I did that day if I hadn’t already. then after that I script and make mood boards in my diary. then I read a little. currently reading: Making Faces by Kevyn Aucoin, and Live Like a hot Chick by Jodi Lipper.

emotions:

I talk to my grandmother about my feelings, she helps me sort things out. please try to find one person you trust to talk to, my messages are always open. 💓 I often overthink. I suffer from anxiety and clinical depression. sometimes these things make me FEEL limited. these experiences wax and wane. I remind myself that the darkness is temporary.

I write in my diary what I feel and track my emotions for potential patterns. I don’t manufacture or sugar coat my feelings, I just talk.

sometimes you need a good cry. let it out. clean your slate. you’ll always feel better, sometimes great after a hard, deep sobbing cry.

I try to get out of the house and get some sunlight. it helps brighten my mood sometimes.

baths:

LOVE taking baths I don’t care what the status quo is about dirt. just rinse off. I love wrapping my hair up and soaking in warm-hot water.

first I run the water. as it’s running I add my bubble bath, then body wash, then my Shea Moisture fragrant coconut oil. it smells soooo good, literally yummy. then I inevitably scream from dipping my toe in the hot water. finally I get in, scrub down my body, emphasis on feet. then I wash, and just relax. I’ve even fallen asleep in the tub once, I was so zen.

careful not to soak too long or overdo it with your products. synthetic materials lingering in your lady bits for too long cause cause infections like bv or uti

some women add tea tree oil, acv, or even Aztec clay to their baths for wellness purposes. I love adding essential oils to my baths to relax and the natural scent is just great 🥺

when I get out I always put something that feels lush and soft on. *invest in super soft, comfy bath towels, they’ll make you feel so luxurious and soft after a nice relaxing bath*

flower:

the yoni is something sensitive that needs to be taken care of thoroughly, and differently than the rest of your body. it’s not recommended to use soaps down there, it can unbalance things and make you itch. also make you prone to infection. this is why I use clear warm water to clean. if I use soap it’s a sensitive, gentle formula. don’t ever try to clean the cavity. she’s a self cleaning vessel.

to shave, I trim my hair down as close as possible and use a FIVE BLADE razor with conditioner and take my time. making sure not to pass a spot twice, I apply moderate pressure and move slowly. when finished I rinse and scrub gently. I PAT not rub dry. to finish off I apply TendSkin, and salicylic acid to avoid ingrowns. once that’s soaked in I apply shea butter. very soft and pretty 🌸

⚠️ DO NOT PUT ON TIGHT PANTIES OR RIGHT PANTS AFTER SHAVING. it restricts the hairs and causes irritation and ingrowns. throw on some comfy loose shorts for a while, let it breathe

dietary needs:

drink plenty of water

cranberry juice

vitamin c

minimal red meat

probiotics

at home vagacial for the high maintenance girlies:

*make any necessary extractions with pointed and slanted tweezers *

scrub: 

brown sugar, tea tree oil, a little shea butter

exfoliating and anti inflammatory

mask:

baking soda, fresh lemon juice, vitamin e oil, papaya juice, gelatin

fixes discoloration and brightens the skin while softening

moisturize:

aloe vera gel, rose hip seed oil

smelling sweet:

ah yes, my favorite part. I love fragrance so much. I love to smell like you could literally break off a piece of me and eat it.

I find that using fragrant washes and oils make your scent more strong and help it linger. I already mentioned the body washes I use. the tree hut scrubs I use smell amazing also. I alike to add essential oils and man made scents like strawberry and chocolate to my Shea Moisture oil (so yummy).

I also use a fragrant lotion, eau de parfum, and fragrance mist.

here’s a list of some of my favorites:

perfumes:

jimmy choo fever

coach floral blush

yves saint laurent mon paris

victoria’s secret bombshell

victoria’s secret scandalous

valentino

fragrance mists:

victoria’s secret velvet petals, pure seduction, warm and cozy

bath and body works a thousand wishes, fiji pineapple palm, warm vanilla sugar, black raspberry vanilla

oils:

coconut

sweet almond

peppermint

chocolate scented essential oil

strawberry scented essential oil

orange

grapefruit

eucalyptus

sweetest combo ever:

vanilla extract, coconut oil, shea butter, and your favorite perfume. you’ll be smelling like a warm cupcake with extra sprinkles and icing 🧁

layering:

oil, lotion, eau de parfum, mist

pulse points:

inside elbows and knees, in between thighs, inner arms, behind ears, back of neck, ankles

hair:

it’s super important to keep your hair moisturized. quenched tresses move, grow, shine and bounce. dry hair is limp, lackluster, and extremely fragile

my fav diy deep conditioner:

a banana, half an avocado, three spoons of honey, an egg, a spoonful of mayo, a spoonful of coconut, olive, and castor oil each

strength from egg, avocado, mayo and olive oil

moisture from avocado and honey

cover damp CLEAN hair and scalp in mixture and cover with a plastic bag, then towel for an hour, rinse thoroughly, and seal in moisture

fav hair products:

castor oil

fusionplex conditioner and mask

Aussie conditioner

wella goji berry mask

coconut oil

style booster edge control

helpful tips:

when shampooing, concentrate on the scalp and wash thoroughly twice, as the suds will naturally cleanse your stands without drying and stripping them

rinse hair with apple cider vinegar every now and then. it restores your ph balance, smooths the cuticle, clarifies the strands, and adds shine

always add oil and leave ins to DAMP hair, never dry; this will ensure you’re sealing in moisture

try to use smooth fabrics to dry your hair, bath towels encourage frizz and breakage

hands and feet:

and last but not least, let’s cover manicuring and pedicuring.

it’s super important to make sure your nails are either DONE or filed, shaped, and smooth. at home maintenance is super easy. make a point to scrub your hands and feet well when bathing. make sure to stay on top of your cuticles by trimming or pushing them back. I like the look that pushing them gives. I use an orangewood stick, metal pusher and cuticle softener to make the process super easy and safe. after I’m done I add my pineapple scented cuticle oil. I do this on my fingers and toes.

invest in a rasp and pumice stone for your feet and use these gently every two weeks after soaking them in warm foot salts. rough usage can cause cuts and irritation. in between treatments keep your feet soft by slathering them in a moisturizing foot cream, cocoa/shea butter then oil to seal it all in. buy some soft thick aloe infused socks and wear them to sleep. you’ll thank me 😉

for info on how I do my nails click this

well, that’s all I’ve got. I truly hope you enjoyed my post! it’s always fun sharing my advice with you all. any feedback is appreciated and question is welcomed ♡

[han-shinsuke]

h a n d h e r o v e r

f e m a l e r e a d e r 🌹

m i n o r s k e e p o u t

[ tags, smut, nsfw, anal, foursome, themes ]

—•—

Without prior notice, he shows up in front of your dorm, dressed casually. You invite him inside but declined, telling you to come with him somewhere. You argue with him, insisting that you should change to something presentable but Bokuto seems to be in a rush so you have given up when he uses his puppy eyes. Inside his car, you keep checking your looks and it disappoints you. Unlike him, you look so ordinary. Well, you are someone insignificant. What’s the difference anyway?

“I’m gonna 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 you later, Y/N,” huh? you shot him a confused look at the use of some endearment.

You laugh awkwardly, “what, Kou?” he is your best friend and your secret crush.

“You look like a kid in your clothes and considering your height, you really look like 𝒐𝒏𝒆.” you pout your lips and he bursts out laughing.

It’s his fault! He didn’t even let you fix yourself! You were running around the University’s oval when he calls. Now, who’s fault it is that he’s being accompanied by a lady in core 5 inch shorts in black and a plain hoodie?

“Shut up, Kou. You’re annoying!”

After driving for almost an hour, Bokuto parks his car in front of Sakusa’s house.

Wait. Sakusa’s house?! You grab onto the belt when Bokuto tries mounting off the safety strap.

“Wait, Kou! Why the fuck are we here?!” you panic. Sakusa, you, and Oikawa are both in an unstable relationship. Not romantically, okay! You are their damn victim! They’re not criminals, well closer to that! Those two are your bullies and they are friends with your best friend, Koutaro Bokuto!

He taps your temple and comforts you that everything will be fine, that you won’t be harmed while he’s around, “it’s Omi’s birthday. He invited us for lunch.”

You nod your head. There’s no point in arguing. You were already there. He has your sweating hand inside his palm when you both entered the house.

“Give me ten seconds, Kou.”

Sakusa’s house rule no. 1; leave your shoes outside but if you are his friends, go straight in.

You remove your sneakers and leave your white socks on. You have been there before and you almost familiarised yourself with his rules. Since he considers you as his enemy rather than his subject of bullying, you are not allowed to sit or touch anything inside his home so you remain standing near the stairs when Bokuto runs to Oikawa in the kitchen.

You give Sakusa a nod as he descends from the top landing. He smells clean and fruity tuitee and you couldn’t help but blush when you notice his stare goes down to your feet.

Your insides trembles from the intensity of his gaze and that makes you feel like running away or hide from his sight.

Your breathing halts when he kneels after removing his fur slippers. His warm hand grab your ankle then slide your left foot in his slipper, then your right foot.

He didn’t speak a word. He just pointed you to the kitchen. His footwear is too big for your small ones but you still manage to walk comfortably.

While helping in the food preparation, Sakusa and Oikawa are constantly bumping their muscular arms against your shoulders. They even teases you that you lack in the free access of healthy foods in the fridge in your own home that’s why you’re thin and small. You 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕, okay?! They’re just huge and very athletic that developing muscles and all is no issue to them. And your case is different. Your height is 5'3", you weight right, meaning your body mass index is normal! Again, they are huge people and they look down on your kind. And these men prefers model-like body figures for women!

You let it all pass. You seem immune to all the teasings and soft pinches that those were no longer affecting you. Sakusa leads the way to his theater room, while you, Bokuto, and Oikawa are in charge of bringing all the foods in there.

There’s a long and wide white couch that looks like a king sized bed in the center and there’s also a big screen mounted on the wall. You settle on the lone chair in the viewing room, sit properly and try avoiding Sakusa’s intense gaze.

What? You did nothing to him!

The three men sits besides each other, Oikawa scrolls on the menu of which genre of movies to watch, Bokuto starts picking up some tarts and chews it. And then, there’s still him, Sakusa! Staring at you!

“Hand her over, Koutaro.” your face turn pale when Sakusa pulls his shirt off his body and leans on the couch.

You couldn’t find the will to speak. You stoned on your seat. Bokuto whistles, inching closer to you. He cups your face and whispers soothing words.

“Wh–what is happening here, Kou?” you sound nervous. Bokuto brings you closer to Sakusa. You grab onto your best friend’s arms. “Koutaro... ” a breathe of panic.

“You are his present to me, Y/N. You’re the desserts.” Sakusa pulls you down on his lap, he breathes closer to your hair. Something is growing in between his thighs. You look so scared. He gets even aroused.

“wanna rub my tongue on his pussy, Koutaro,” Oikawa moves closer, too, licking his lips.

“I’m... I’m not—” Oikawa stops you from talking, taking your chin in his hand. “You’re not what, Y/N?” he asks seductively.

“Kou–Kou... help me.” you hold onto his hand, giving him a scared look.

Sakusa tugs on your long hair before latching on your earlobe, “don’t worry, Y/N. Koutaro will help you. He will help you fuck yourself to sleep.”

And the talking ended there.

Oikawa snatches your face and slams his mouth on your opened ones, rolling out his tongue into you before brushing roughly his lips against your lips. Your both hands twitches, the kiss is electrifying. You try to pull away but he restrains you by gripping lightly your neck. You hear Sakusa laughs. He wraps his arms around your body, locking you in restrictions. Oikawa continues kissing you roughly that you can feel his warm saliva dripping from his mouth down to your chin. You didn’t respond to his kisses. You were in shocked. When he sucks on your lips and tongue, you didn’t recognise the moan that passed your lips.

“Undress her quickly!” still in a rush, Bokuto puts his words into action. He separates you from Oikawa’s mouth. You were panting when he pulls out your hoodie, showing your uncovered titsx in broad daylight. They look perfect and round and flushed. The three men growls, pouncing all at one on you. Bokuto has the right breast, Sakusa’s on the left and Oikawa, he moves between your legs, pushing your shorts to the side to take a good look on your rosy folds.

Oikawa licks the slit back and forth until it gets covered with his saliva. He chuckles when your body twitches. He dips his mouth again, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clitx while scratching your inner thighs. You moan loudly, arching your back again and again. Your moan matches the others’ moans and grunts. Both Sakusa and Bokuto are sucking on your titsx and they’re doing it like they’re milking on you. Swirling sharply their tongues and grazing their teeth on its softness. Damn. You didn’t even say yes to them!

Unknowingly, your mouth also salivates as well as your cunt being treated like a meal by Oikawa’s hot and needy mouth. He’s swirling his tongue and he’s sucking you there so noisily.

“Tooru~” you moan his name when he starts pumping digits into you while his thumb is pressing hard on your clitx. Your legs stretches up and down whenever his fingers goes deeper and harder and at the same time, circling his knuckles hard as well on your cunt. He makes you drip like crazy and it’s evident on your oozing core and salivating mouth. He laughs triumphantly, giving you the best finger fuck and tongue fuck. Your body convulses when you come in waves, the two men abandons your chest to join Oikawa slurping your first and rich orgasm.

They pushes your legs up and there are three long and thick tongues slurping and licking your tight pussy that still waves down thick juices. You find support by grabbing on the edges while you were being worshipped by their mouths. A squeal escapes your lips when you feel someone’s tongue poking your anusx.

When they finished, Oikawa pulls you near the edge and kneels in front of your head hanging by on the ends. He’s the first one to get fully naked before Sakusa and Bokuto.

“Kou~” your eyes waters, not in fear but in excitement and other unnamed feelings.

Sakusa goes below you, putting your small body on top of his own while slowly inserting his fat cockx in your tight pussy. You let out a yelp when his balls bumps on your opening. He’s deep inside you!

“Sakusa hnngggg~ sooo deeeppp haaahhh!” you grip his arm that locks your head beside his by putting it tight around your neck. You struggle to breathe properly so you gasp for air. His other hand goes to your stuffed cunt and slaps your folds harshly until he hears you sob and cry.

“Enough, Omi, she’s sore already.” Bokuto slaps Sakusa’s hand away and replaces it by his own, giving soft touches and light kisses.

“Hmm~ Kou... Kou... ” you cry his name, grabbing his hand toward your mouth. You kiss his fingertips and suck on them later. Earning soft moans and heavy breathes from him.

Bokuto takes his hand from your grasp and gives you slow and sensual kiss on your lips. You feel Sakusa inching his length out but you give no enough attention to it. What matters now is how Bokuto kisses your numb lips. He’s good and it feels good.

Your dear friend ends the kiss but not his finger work on your clitx. He’s rubbing it softly.

“My turn baby doll.” you almost forgot about him. Oikawa kisses you again and what he does next surprised you. He shoves his cockx in your mouth, all the way down to your throat. You gag at how big he is but you can’t do anything to remove it not now that he starts moving in and out.

Your moans gets dissolved by Oikawa’s rough fucking inside your mouth. He moans louder than you and his friends and you feel like doing the same so you cooperate with him, sucking him in while he fucks his length harder to your throat.

Down to the remaining men, Sakusa has been hammering your tight cunt with his massive cockx and swear! Your eyes widened when Bokuto positions his big cock head to where Sakusa’s fat one is inserted.

You put your free hand on his abdomen when he hovers over you, slowly joining his friend’s dick into party.

No, Koutaro! You’re gonna rip me with your cockx!

But he didn’t stop. He slides his fat member into your stretched core! Stretching it even wider with Sakusa’s!

Oikawa moans louder and louder and he even dirty talks while spurting his thick loads in your mouth. You gag on it and you do nothing but swallow it all.

When it’s your turn to moan and scream, you give all your best in doing it because fuck, it’s hurt having two fat and long shafts inside your cunt. So you moan and cry and then repeat while ramming themselves into you. Your body shakes and your lips quivers and they huffs and pants and slams their hips until you bleed thick and rich heat again, covering their cocks with your juice and their sperms.

Bokuto and Sakusa only pulls out when they empty all of their loads inside you.

It’s not over, Oikawa pulls you and folds you in mating press, inserting his hard cockx into your leaking hole, pumping faster while kissing your roughly again. He does it again. The rough and deep pumping. The rough kisses that leaves your lips swollen and numb.

“Tooruuu aahhnnggg~ hmmppp~” you shake your head, he’s using you so rough. You can feel the weight of every thrust and you wish for it to be over.

Again, it’s not over even after he cum inside you. He flips you on your stomach, pushing his cockx back inside you. He pounds you harder from behind, groping your chest before slapping your ass as he keeps pounding. You cry. And cry. And cry.

Three times. Oikawa cums inside you three times before handing you back to Sakusa who chooses to fuck you ass up, too.

“Not today, Omi. Her parents would notice. She comes home every weekends.” Bokuto advises his friend when Sakusa put his tip on your anusx.

Sakusa spits on his length and on your anusx, “okay, I won’t anal fuck her hmm~” he says but does it anyway.

He shoves right there! Sliding his full length inside your ass. You let out a loud cry and sob hard. Sakusa laughs. Oikawa, too. Bokuto attends to you and takes your both hands, drawing circles at the back of your hand he’s gripping tightly.

“Kou... Kou... it hurts, please, Kou... ” you cry while holding hands with your best friend.

Sakusa starts grinding his hips against your and that makes you feel the very pain of being analed. Bokuto didn’t leave you. He keeps holding your hand while Sakusa pounds you senselessly, almost adhering you deep against the softness of the couch.

“Ssshhh, baby~ you can take him~ you’ll feel good.” you focus on his words while endurimg Sakusa’s rough thrusts.

“Kou—” you were cut mid sentence. Sakusa pulls you away from Bokuto, flipping you on your back again to face him.

You can feel his loads dripping from your assholex but he’s not done yet. He separates your legs and dips between your thighs, pushing his shaft back.

You wince in pain when he slaps your swollen folds. You tell him it hurts with tears in your eyes but he just smiled. Slapping for the last time before rocking you again and this time, claiming your lips. He kisses expertly and you find yourself returning his kiss even though your lips hurts.

“Omi... ” you cry his name softly and that stuns him for seconds, watching your face contorts in beautiful pleasure. He sees something different in you in that state so he rocks you deep but slow this time, kissing your chin down to your neck and moments later, he’s shooting his loads inside you while still kissing you slowly.

Once again, that moment isn’t over yet, Bokuto takes you inside his arms and brings you in the backyard where there is a inflatable pool set up near the wooden fence.

The sun is up and so is his cockx.

He puts your nakedness in the cold water and slow fuck you there but bruising your whole body with his deep bites and tight grips. He pushes the hair strands that covers your face while ramming himself into you. He looks at you softly and he notices your puffy eyes from all the crying.

“You good, baby?” his voice is gentle so you smile, nodding your head until it slowly falls down backwards. You feel drained and you can’t keep with his deep rumblings while moving up and down on his lap.

He catches your head on time, eyes fluttering from being overworked.

“Kou, I like you. I lied when I say it’s Omi.” you confess before closing your eyes.

Bokuto does your job, he moves your ass up and down his length even though you fell asleep on him. As he shoots his loads inside, he says this, “but Omi found you first, Y/N. He’s afraid to tell you his feelings so he finds another way to get close to you. By bullying you, he gets closer and closer. I just jumped in the scene and befriended you. I like you, too, Y/N. But he likes you first. So, you are his.”

But, you didn’t hear it. You were too tired to fight against the need to sleep.

Two hours later...

You were in the backseat, straddling on Sakusa’s laps, his cockx installed inside your creaming cunt while holding you tight as he kisses your lips torridly.

On your way home,

Bokuto drives the car.

While Sakusa is fucking you mercilessly in the backseat.

With all the bruises and marks of ownership, there’s no doubt you are his.

You are Kiyoomi Sakusa’s property.

[ichorai]

frozen hearts, flaming arrows ; p.sh

parts ; one. masterlist. two coming soon.

pairing ; fire!seonghwa x ice!reader

summary ; two enemy clans. one icer healer, one flamer soldier, one brewing war. love was never meant to be a part of this. but then again, when is love ever supposed to be a part of anything?

words ; 7.3k

warnings / includes ; cursing, violence, a make-out scene !!, future suggestive / mature content, hwa being sexy as always, ANGST okay this is a lot of ANGST and hURT, enemies to friends to enemies to lovers trope lol

a/n ; bet yall didn’t see this one coming lol but yea pls enjoy !!! im rlly excited for this series omg !!! im sorry this part was rlly short and kinda bad kkdfjdf but this is just the beginning and i swear part two will be much better !!

A snowflake glowing a luminescent blue lazily floated above your palm, multiplying into several others until you held a mini-flurry in your hand. You walked past all the frosted-over trees, huffing in deep breaths of cold air as your boots stepped over piles of unblemished snow and crispy dead leaves. 

Being a healer was exhausting. Though you were still fairly new to the job, you couldn’t help but lay all the blame on yourself for being incapable of saving a life today. You just… hadn’t expected there to be that much blood. Icers had thicker blood for a reason; it wasn’t usually a problem. The head healer tried to reassure you that you did everything you could, but you couldn’t stand to be in the medbay for much longer. You needed air. 

And that’s how you ended up here, head spinning dizzily as you stomped through the wintry grey forest, releasing out a frustrated groan from the bottom of your lungs.

“You’re dangerously close to our territory, Icer.” The sudden deep-timbered voice had you flinching so harshly you hit your head on an icy tree branch. “I’d watch my step if I was you.”

Breath caught in your throat, you watched with wide eyes as the Flamer stepped out of the shadow of a tree. He was undeniably handsome; his irises were dark, flecked with a fierce gold the same hue as the edge of a fire, his slicked-back hair a nightly black, and a curl of his carmine lips that was nowhere near friendly. An obvious insignia of a red flame was embedded into his unwrinkled jacket, a clear sign of this man being from the Fire Tribe.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized I was so close to the border.” You murmured, backing away slowly. The small snowflakes that you had accumulated in your palm quickly dissipated into the air, but miniscule particles of snow still floated around you, no doubt a result of your quaking nerves.

Noticing this, the man watched curiously as a snowflake drifted by him. He raised a finger towards the ice crystal, a small orange flame bursting out of the tip. The snowflake melted into a droplet of water, falling to his feet. You noticed the snow had melted away from him in a large circle around his shoes, now standing in a patch of wet grass. Even from the great distance between the two of you, you could still feel the wavering heat pulsating from this strange man.

“What are you doing so far away from your people?”

You knew you shouldn’t be talking to a Flamer stranger. They were dangerous, and it was common knowledge that Icers and Flamers weren’t on the best terms as of late.

“I couldn’t be there anymore,” You whispered, just loud enough for him to pick up. At his raised eyebrows, you continued on. “I’m a healer. It was a lot of pressure not to mess up.”

He nodded, his curiosity getting the best of him. He stepped closer and asked, “Then why are you a healer?”

“Because I’m good at it.” The words came off far too snobbish for your liking, so you quickly added in a sheepish tone, “Also because I like helping people.”

The two of you fell into a queer silence, before he nodded, somewhat satisfied with your answer. The Flamer turned his back to you, “I best get going now. The lands aren’t going to patrol themselves. Run back to the rest of your people, Icer.”

You could feel his heat retract as he walked away. More snow fell to cover his tracks, as if the strange man with flaming eyes was never there.

It wasn’t until the same time the next day that you found yourself strolling towards the forest, back to the same spot last night, feet acting to their own accord. You paused in your steps when you realized where you were heading. 

Would you really risk getting a Flamer angry at you for getting too close to their borders again? With not another thought, you pushed back the doubts and walked onwards… it wasn’t like you actually crossed the border. There was a large grey strip of forest land that belonged to neither tribe; it was far too costly to maintain and the forest gave them nothing but bugs and piles of dead leaves.

Much to your surprise, the man was already there, watching you with those glowing eyes of his. “What are you doing here?” He hissed.

“I can ask you the same thing,” You retaliated, arching an eyebrow.

The cold wind whistled as it blew past you, but you were planted firmly to the ground. He, on the other hand, grimaced quite obviously as the breeze tousled his neat hair about, sending dark strands careening into his eyes.

“I’m Y/N,” You said with a small smile. Although he pulsated with heat, that only made him feel the frigid sting of the cold wind all the more. At the sight of his shivering form, you wondered just how bad a Flamer can be.

He eyed you suspiciously before stepping forward quite boldly, sticking out a hand, “I’m Seonghwa.”

There was a strange arrhythmic thump in your chest. Now that he was so close to you, the lilith-hued snow around your feet started to wilt away as well, your cheeks flushing at the sudden rise in temperature. Icers weren’t very good with heat, that was obvious.

And when you took his hand, it was as if he was the coldest thing you’ve ever touched. But that couldn’t be it… you couldn’t really feel the cold much. Nonetheless, you gripped his palm unflinchingly, staring him dead in the eye. It became like some sort of challenge, but the both of you knew that you had obviously won. Seonghwa winced at how freezing your fingers against his were.

“Do you come here everyday?” The Flamer asked once he retracted his hand from yours to shove into the warmth of his pocket.

“Yesterday was my first time. I wasn’t planning on coming back today, but I just ended up here on instinct.” Your boot scuffed the pristine snow, avoiding the way his gaze seemed to quite literally burn holes into you.

Seonghwa frowned slightly. Funnily enough, the same exact thing had happened to him. He wasn’t on patrolling duty today, so really, he had no cause to be out here. He could be curled up with a book in front of a nice, warm fire, instead of standing in the snow with an Icer, of all people. Gods, he must be crazy.

“So… what are you doing here?” Your seemingly innocent question had Seonghwa struggling for words. 

In all honesty, he had been curious whether or not you’d come back. An Icer healer in the Grey Forest was more than enough to pique his interest. Nothing remotely gripping ever happened in the Fire Tribe (other than the various men and women who threw themselves at him whenever they got the chance). He hadn’t actually expected you to come back. 

“I’m… hunting.”

“It’s illegal to hunt outside of your tribe lands, everybody knows that.”

“Who said I was hunting for an animal?” Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest to try and look somewhat menacing, but you just grinned. “I was looking for a book I lost.”

You hummed slightly, “Right.” As you waved your arm about, little snowflakes seemed to trail after you, and Seonghwa watched in masked fascination. “Can’t you just admit that you came to see me again?”

“Who’s to say that it’s not you coming to see me?”

“Hmm, let’s just say we both came to see each other. I’ve never seen a Flamer up this close before.”

Seonghwa blinked down at you with wide eyes, as if realizing just how small the distance between the two of you was. His cheeks reddened quickly as he cleared his throat into a fist, stepping backwards and almost slipping on more snow. When he attempted to sidestep the large wet puddle he’d created because of his rippling heat, his foot caught onto a tree root and he tumbled backwards. Snowflakes clung onto his dark hair and he shivered yet again. You tried to conceal your sniggers behind a palm, but Seonghwa still seemed to notice, his blazing eyes narrowing in mock-offense.

“You’re enjoying this,” He stated with an accusatory tone.

“Of course I am,” You replied through muted laughs. “I’m sorry. I would help, but I’m afraid I’d only make it worse.” To emphasize your point, you shook your hands slightly, blue crystals of snow whirling about.

Seonghwa’s fiery eyes seemed to soften at this. He pushed himself up to his feet, now shivering so harshly that you could hear his teeth chatter. You’d only known this Flamer for less than two days and yet he’d already managed to tug at your heartstrings.

“You should go back and get warm. I’ve read about Flamers and their immune systems… you guys are absolute babies when it comes to the cold.” Out of instinct, you reached out to touch his arm, like you did to most sick patients. But of course, you paused just before the tips of your fingers brushed against his jacket, curled your hand into a palm and forced it back down to your side. “I wouldn’t want you getting a fever just to see an ordinary Icer.”

Seonghwa cracked a half of a smile, shaking his head in disbelief.

But when he spun on his heel to leave, you called out before you could stop yourself, “Will I ever see you again, Seonghwa?” He stopped in his tracks without turning to looking at you. Stomach coiling into a tight knot of tension, you awaited in the palpable silence, a heavy lump forming in your throat.

“Next time, let’s go somewhere a bit warmer, yeah? Meet me closer to Flamer territory, by the river next to the largest tree in the Grey Forest. If you get to see me shiver, I get to see you sweat, Icer.” And then he continued on his way, until his lithe form disappeared behind the misty haze and the frosted shrubbery.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Just what were you thinking, agreeing to meet with a Flamer? Were you always this stupid or had you just realized now? You couldn’t believe you were spending your free time with some random Flamer from the Fire Tribe. 

Thoughts of doubt swirled about in your head as you wove your way through the Grey Forest. The low rumbling of the river had you gulping down a large lump in your throat. It was already far too warm for you liking, the little snowflakes that buzzed around your head slowly melting away in water droplets. You didn’t think you’ve ever been this nervous before; not even back when you performed your first major surgery. There was just something about Seonghwa that you couldn’t stay away from… like when your Nan used to tell you no sugar candies before bed, it only made you crave for them all the more.

By the time you spotted Seonghwa leaning against the large tree, you were panting heavily, perspiration marring your skin. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” The Flamer chimed, seeming to be in a much better mood now that the tables have turned. He seemed quite at ease, not a bead of sweat to be seen. “Already worked up quite a sweat, have we?”

Pathetically, you lifted your arm to conjure a small snowball, proceeding to press it against your head for cool relief. It quickly melted into a slushy of ice and water, dripping down your hair. You frowned, while Seonghwa grinned in return.

“Not so fun, is it?” He teased while you kicked off your boots and dipped your feet into the river, moaning in relief at the slightly cooler temperature of the water. You wished to make it colder, but much to your disappointment, the water wouldn’t crystalize because of how quickly it was rushing by. 

Seonghwa crouched next to you, but still kept a decent length away, picking up rocks to skip across the river. For that, you were grateful, because if he made you any warmer than you were at that moment, you would’ve gotten up and stormed back to Icer lands. 

“The first time we met,” You started after flicking water onto your face to cool down, making Seonghwa glance at you with curious eyes. “You were telling me to go back to my territory. But now, you made me come closer to Flamer lands. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. “You’re just… not what I thought an Icer would be like. It made me curious.”

“And what did you think we’d be like?”

A small shrug lifted his shoulder, “Cold. I mean, not that you aren’t, but cold as in… your hearts would be frozen over as well. I grew up with stories of Icers freezing Flamers to death and placing them in their gardens as statues. But you don’t seem like you’d do that kind of stuff. Especially when you told me that you were a healer.”

“For me, everybody knew the story of how the Fire Tribe would lock the Icers they captured in a sealed room, and the snow they made would melt and they’d slowly watch as the room filled with water, unable to turn it into ice because it was too damn hot. And eventually… they’d drown.” At the last few words, you frosted over your fingers and dunked them beneath the waters’ surface.

Seonghwa’s horrified expression made you chuckle slightly.

“Well, for the record, we don’t do that. We aren’t barbarians.” His words were said huffily as he crossed his arms and turned fully to fix his rapt gaze on you.

“I know. It was merely a silly childhood legend.”

The hours dribbled away fairly quickly, you and Seonghwa exchanging tales of your childhood that only increased in absurdity the farther you recounted. He told you about his friend, San, and how they once snuck into Wind Tribe territory to steal rare Gustberries that only grew in the harsh fields of the Breezers. You told him of Hongjoong and Wooyoung, the former being your closest friend and the latter constantly getting himself hurt. Laughs and giggles and the quiet hum of the river filled the silences in between the gaps of your vivid conversations. The more time you spent talking with him, the more you found yourself growing fond of the fiery-eyed man. Who would’ve thought?

By the time the sun had already set, you and Seonghwa were sitting much closer than when you had first sat down, his heat pulsating through the air in waves. To be honest, you didn’t quite mind the subtle warmth after you got used to the initial shock, but you knew you were pushing your limits. An Icer shouldn’t be out in high temperatures for this long. 

You pushed yourself up to your feet, head swimming dizzily as you sucked in lungfuls of air. Slightly concerned, Seonghwa reached out to help you find your feet, but he pulled away at the last moment, just as you had last night. The tables really have turned, you thought in mild amusement.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine…” You swayed on your feet slightly, pressing your cooler palm against your warmer-than-usual forehead.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the cold. You guys are absolute babies when it comes to the heat.” He said, mimicking the same exact words you told him yesterday. A weak laugh slipped past your lips, as you leaned against a tree branch.

Oh, everything was just too hot. You’ve been out of the snow for too long…

All of a sudden, the world was flipped onto its side, damp grass pressing against your face. You could barely register Seonghwa startled yelp before everything went dark.

“Hey. Icer, are you okay? Icer! Y/N, come on, I put you back in the snow, I don’t know what else to do.”

Though your head pounded as though someone had whacked you with a tree branch, you could just barely make out Seonghwa’s concerned tone. When your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with the sight of the Flamer’s handsome, yet alarmed face.

“You okay?” His words came gentle and soothing.

Puffing out a small sigh, you nodded tiredly. Being back in the snow felt much better, “Yeah. Thank you,” You croaked out sheepishly.

Seonghwa beamed down at you, before shuffling away so as the snow around you wouldn’t melt. But just as soon as the smile graced his features, it quickly dissipated into a frown, “Don’t scare me like that,” He practically scolded. “You win, okay? Next time we can stay in the snow.”

Breath caught in your throat, a heavy blush laid over your cheeks, “Next time? You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Seonghwa said somewhat nonchalantly, shocking you.

“I… well, thank you for the, well… uhm, getting me back,” You stumbled over your words the longer Seonghwa stared. Oh, what was this man doing to you? “I have some… healer things I need to do… so, I best get going… erm -” Without another thought, you pushed yourself onto your knees, snow crunching underneath your breeches as you leaned over towards him.

He was so warm. His face, especially, once you brushed your far-cooler lips against his cheekbone. The Flamer reared back with a ridiculous, startled expression, eyes comically wide. One of his hands came up to clamp against the cheek you kissed, mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. 

“It was really nice talking to you. Thank you again,” You murmured while hiding a grin behind your palm. With that, you turned on your heel and left the blushing Flamer alone in the snow.

From then on, you saw Seonghwa practically every day. Oftentimes, you’d meet in the snow and stroll through the Grey Forest until it got far too warm and the both of you would have to turn back. The moment he’d see your skin dampen with sweat, he’d have the two of you abruptly changing course, steering away from the heat of the Fire Tribe. You thought that was incredibly thoughtful of him. 

Once, Seonghwa discovered a more shallower part of the river that you could actually crystalize to keep yourself cool. That day was a good day. You had gently taken his scorching hand and tried to help him run across the ice before his heat could melt it away. The two of you left soaking wet, boisterous grins painted across your lips.

Hongjoong, being your closest friend and all, was constantly questioning and badgering on about where you went every afternoon. After all, you were a healer and your tribe needed you. But, however selfish it was, you didn’t want to stop seeing Seonghwa… he made you feel things no person from the Ice Tribe had ever made you feel.

The more you saw him, the more you had the urge to yank his stupidly sharp jawline towards you and shove your lips onto his. You’d imagine the way the warmth radiating off his skin would feel underneath your frigid palms and lips. You thought back to the second-long cheek kiss you gave him a couple months back, a fond smile tickling at the corner of your mouth.

“What’re you thinking about?” Seonghwa asked from beside you, nudging you slightly. Over a long course of time, the pair of you grew more and more comfortable with one another, inching closer and closer with each meet-up. At this point, you were practically sitting on top of him, one of his legs intertwined with yours and your head laying on his shoulder, the both of you leaning against a frosted tree trunk. Seonghwa smelled of sweet, burning sugar with a heavier scent of roasted coffee beans. He also often complained about how cold you were, although his tone was always fairly light and lacked any true bite. 

“Nothing,” You were quick to say, pulling your head away from his shoulder to peer up at him.

Shrugging off your strange attitude, Seonghwa glanced down at you with excited eyes, “You wanna see a new trick I learned?”

Without awaiting your answer (because he knew you’d say yes anyway), Seonghwa cupped his hands together and pulled them away to produce a thin orange flame morphed into the shape of a shooting arrow. You watched in rapt fascination as the fire-arrow spun in the air when Seonghwa whistled sharply. Then, he pushed it away to embed itself into the tree across from you. The tree’s dry bark was quick to catch aflame, but you flicked your hands and caged in the fire with frost, the orange dying out into the blackened wood. 

“Learned that during archery,” Seonghwa beamed down at your bemused expression. “You know, only the best Flamers can morph their fires into shapes. It takes a lot of concentration.”

With no effort at all, you twirled your fingers to make an intricate rabbit out of ice, whiskers and fur and all, holding it out to Seonghwa with a minuscule smile. The Flamer scowled slightly, and touched the tip of his finger to the clear crystal, watching it dribble into liquid through the gaps of your palms.

You rolled your eyes to the side before leaning your head back onto his shoulder with a content sigh, “Don’t you compete with me, Park Seonghwa. You’ll never win.”

Much to your surprise, he didn’t bother to argue, and instead pressed his warm nose into your frosty hair, humming, “Yeah, yeah. And who was the one that fainted in the heat again?”

“If I recall correctly, you’ve caught more than three colds just this year! And it’s only the fifth moon, too!”

His hands suddenly darted out to tickle your midriff, to which you squirmed away with a smothered laugh. 

“Hm, wanna put it to the test? I promise I’ll go easy,” You said teasingly once you managed to capture his wrists. You could feel his pulse rapidly thumping against the pad of your thumb. 

“I don’t know… I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, you’re not the one that’ll be hurting.”

“Oh, you’re on, Icer.”

The two of you stumbled onto your feet and you held yourself up in a defensive stance. With a faint smile, Seonghwa mimicked your position. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very fair fight; you were a healer and he was a well-trained fighter.

But nonetheless, you were the first to throw, a frozen ball of ice the size of your fist hurtled towards him at top speed. Seonghwa was quick to react, blasting the ice with orange flames until it melted mid-air. You frowned and lithely dodged behind a tree when he reconjured his fire arrows and sent them after you. In retaliation, you quickly brought up a thick ice barrier with a laugh, smothering the thin lines of fire away with the sole of your boots. 

The air was chock-full of his crackling flames muted by your snow, crystalline icicles dripping from nearby tree branches, and lame taunts tossed back and forth by the both of you as you play-fought for another couple of minutes.

Seonghwa might’ve had the upper hand in combat, but you knew how to play dirty. Just as he was stepping forward, you sent a sheet of slippery ice to slide underneath his boots. With a bewildered expression, Seonghwa flailed about for a moment, the small fire he prepared in his palm dying down to glowing embers, before tumbling down into the snow. 

“That was low, Y/N,” The Flamer huffed out whilst trying to catch his breath against the pale white mound of snowflakes, glaring at you with playfully narrowed eyes. You were glad to see that he wasn’t actually angry at you.

“Do you call defeat, Seonghwa? There’s no shame in admitting it, you know!” Your jaunts were light-hearted as you walked closer to him and Seonghwa found himself grinning despite the cold stinging his skin. 

Sticking your hand out to help him up, Seonghwa eyed you for a moment with an indiscernible expression, his playful nature fading away into something you couldn’t quite decipher.

Instead of pushing himself up, he suddenly pulled you down with him, a startled shriek leaving your lips and echoing across the Grey Forest. You fell on top of him with a grunt of pain, meeting his glowing amber eyes with your confused ones. During your hazy moment of puzzlement, Seonghwa tugged you closer, his warm palms curled around your forearms gently. 

And then, without further warning, he kissed you. This one was nothing like the first kiss you gave him. That one was merely an innocent peck on the cheek. But this one… this one held passion and furtive desire and yearning. The both of you most definitely wanted this, it was quite clear by now.

Your senses were overwhelmed in the best way possible. All you could smell was him, the heavy undertone of roasted coffee beans sending your head into a cloudy daze. Your lips were slanted against his hot ones, noses of starkly opposite temperatures bumping against one another in your moment of desperation. You weren’t sure where to place your hands, so you balled them up against his jacket, just close enough to feel the hardness of his chest underneath.

For you, everything was hot, searing with a need for more as his plump, warm lips laid over yours. For him, however, everything was cold. The snow beneath was a mild annoyance, and yet he was willing to bear through it for you. You were equally freezing, but Seonghwa welcomed the cold for once, a dangerous ache that would grow to be lethal if neither of you were careful.

A small, frosty sigh left you when he pulled away for a second to stare at you with those intense eyes of his. You stared back with part-confusion and part-longing, lips agape. That apparently set something off in him, because he sat up with you straddling his hips, hands now encircled around your midriff as he kissed you more passionately, leaning forward so your back arched into him.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Why were you feeling these emotions for a Flamer of all people? Why couldn’t you have just stayed within your own tribe? Turmoil churned about in you as you kissed him in somewhat of a frantic manner. You hated yourself for loving it so much.

The second time he pulled away, you were both gasping for breath, lips swollen and clothes rumpled and askew. You could tell he wanted to kiss you again, and probably a thousand times after that. To be frank, that was all you wanted as well.

But you knew this had to stop. And so, when he leaned forward to capture your lips with his again, you flinched none-too-subtly and slid off his lap. An expression of genuine hurt flickered across his handsome, reddened features. A twinge of guilt gnawed away at your stomach as you got up onto your shaky feet.

“Go home, Seonghwa,” Was all you could find yourself saying with a hoarse voice. “You’re going to catch a cold again.”

You couldn’t look at him anymore. And so, you left him laying crestfallen in the snow, hurriedly making your way back to Icer lands, small blue snowflakes trailing behind you and cold tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

The next day, Seonghwa didn’t show up. You waited by your usual meet-up place, gnawing on your lip anxiously, glancing every which way in hopes of seeing the raven-headed Flamer. In the midst of your worrying turmoil, more and more snowflakes emanated from your skin and it didn’t take long for them to accumulate by your feet, completely covering your boots in a pristilline white blanket. You stepped out of the feather-soft pile, opting to impatiently trudge about in an attempt to steel your nerves.

You hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Seonghwa’s heartbroken expression was imprinted into your mind, leaving you in a mess of guilt and regret and anger. 

Why did you have to push him away? Seonghwa, your first non-Icer friend, shoved away as if he meant nothing. You released a frustrated groan, smacking your palm into your forehead.

It made sense that he didn’t want to see you. If you were in his shoes, you probably wouldn’t leave your room and have the light of day touch your face for a whole moon. The idea of Seonghwa upset just didn’t sit right with you. Nonetheless, you could do little else than bide your time for him, however much you hated waiting.

He didn’t show up the next day either. Nor the one after that. 

By the fourth day of waiting, you started to feel twinges of discouragement, but you never gave up, determined to set things right with Seonghwa. The niggling thought of him never showing up was one that often pestered you while you patiently awaited his return, although always quickly shoved down into the corner of your mind. You didn’t want to think about what you would do if you never saw him again.

It took just over a week of waiting for him to come back. At that point, you hadn’t thought he’d come back at all, reluctantly accepting that you’ve ultimately ruined your friendship with Seonghwa.

And so, imagine your surprise when his voice rang out through the trees, your name rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Y/N.”

Startled, you flinched so hard that your head hit a branch that hung lowly on the icy tree you were sitting beneath. It reminded you so much of the first time you met him that you couldn’t help but crack a smile after your initial pained grimace.

“Seonghwa,” You gasped, eyes round with shock and mouth agape. “You’re… you’re back!” 

The excitement in your voice didn’t go undetected by either of you, but his features were set in stone, unmoving and neutral. Those blazing eyes of his seemed to bore holes into you, and you felt strangely naked underneath his gaze. You noticed that his appearance was more disheveled than ever, eyebags dark and hair not neatly slicked back like usual. He looked broken, but far too proud to admit so.

“Seonghwa…?” You stepped closer, the frosted leafy foliage crumbling under the pressure. This man was someone you deeply cared about, and you knew he felt the same about you.

So why was he staring at you like you meant nothing to him?

A shiver ran down your spine, a sensation that only Seonghwa could bestow upon you. Which was ironic, because the cold feeling that tickled down your spine was ignited by a man with powers of fire and heat. 

You and him didn’t belong together. That was clear as day by now.

“Seonghwa,” You mumbled again, reaching out to him once close enough.

He shut his eyes as if looking at you were torture. It stung more than you liked to admit, so you retracted your fingers, clenching them into a fist and dropping them back by your side awkwardly. The air was so tense, so utterly uncomfortable, you could feel the crack in your heart splinter into more branches.

“Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” Your bottom lip trembled. This wasn’t the Seonghwa you’ve grown to be so fond of. This man scared you. You had half a mind to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense back into him. Where did your Seonghwa go?

An angry huff escaped his lips, misting visibly out of his carmine lips. The very ones you kissed a little over a week ago.

“You can’t… just… don’t say my name. Please. We can’t be like that anymore. We can’t do this. We can’t keep seeing each other.” Seonghwa’s stoic mask disintegrated into raw emotion. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you mirrored the same exact expression.

There was a part of you that wanted to yell and scream and throw sharp icicles at him until he had no choice but to run back to Flamer territory. Anywhere, as long as it was far away from you. The other, more rational part of you, whispered that he was right. After all, you were the one that pushed him away first. It was only fair.

A broken bone won’t heal if you keep putting pressure on the wound. Being a healer, you couldn’t just ignore your own teachings.

But for just once in your life, you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to hold Seonghwa tightly in your grasp, no matter how dangerous it was. You wanted to call him yours, and you wanted to be his. You wanted to kiss him again, despite the small action being the ultimate downfall for the both of you.

And so you found yourself croaking out, making sure to emphasize his name, “Seonghwa, you know just as much as I do that there’s something here between us. You can’t just ignore it and toss that all out the window!”

His face screwed up in an effort to keep the onslaught of tears at bay. Perhaps what he felt for you wasn’t yet as strong as what he’d call love, but he wasn’t very far from it. He cared too much for you, so much more than anybody else in his life.

He needed you. And because of that, he had to let you go. Fraternizing with the enemy wasn’t something to be taken lightly. If his tribe knew about this little escapade of his, they’d have his head and would finally have a good enough reason to declare war. Regardless, it was only a matter of time. The Fire Tribe has hated Icers for centuries and centuries, teetering on the brink between neutrality and complete bloodshed. 

“We have no choice,” The words were said in a low tone, rumbling deep down in his chest. Seonghwa shuffled closer, so close that you could feel his familiar heat wavering against the ice once again. You longed to reach out and place your hand on his chest, feel his heart thumping against his ribcage frantically, just as yours was. “Do you know what they’d do to you - to us - if our tribes found us together? It’s too risky, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

“I’m a healer. I can take care of myself! And we can just stay careful like we always have. Besides, people rarely come into the Grey Forest anymore!” Your words came out fast and jittery and panicked. You thought that you had already come to terms with losing the man that stood in front of you, but you were far from acceptance, you knew that now.

Seonghwa carded a pale hand through dark strands of hair, “I’m sorry, were you not the one that told me to go back home? You started this. You wanted this!” He was so agitated that when he swung his arm back to his side, small crackles of fire lit up his fingers.

Something inside you snapped, “I most definitely did not! It was just… all too sudden and I needed time to think. Now that I’ve already thought, there’s no need for us to run away and never see each other again! You’re overexaggerating, Seonghwa.”

“No, you don’t get it. Don’t you know, Y/N? Our tribes are verging on war. We’re supposed to be enemies, you and I. Don’t be daft!” His voice raised a notch or two louder, and you found yourself shrinking into yourself.

Tears pricked your eyes and you looked away from his fierce gaze, “We don’t have to be a part of that. We can just -”

“Just what? Pretend? We can’t play picnic in the forest and act like our people aren’t planning to slaughter each other!”

“You know what?” You shouted so loudly that the birds nesting on treetops fluttered away, a mass of dark wings and agitated squawks. “If you want to walk away from this relationship, from me, then go ahead! I won’t stop you. Fuck you, Seonghwa. Fuck you for throwing this away the moment it became something more.”

“You were the first to push away!” He protested, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“Well, I’m sorry!” You cried out, furiously swiping away the tears that dribbled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry I was scared! I’m willing to try again, but you’re not giving me the chance. I waited for you every day, you know.”

“I know. I saw,” He said, suddenly quiet. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

The two of you stared at each other defiantly, heavy breaths misting the air in front of you. His nose was tinted a deep pink, no doubt because of the cold.

“I’m leaving,” Seonghwa said after a long while. “And you shouldn’t come back here. Ever. I need you to know, Y/N. I’m doing this because I care about you. I expect you to do the same for me.”

Then, after casting you a forlorn expression, he tore his blazing eyes away and stiffly swiveled around in the snow. A gust of wind tousled his hair and he blew out a sigh of pale white mist. The cold made his nose red, and you subconsciously noticed the way he shivered slightly, brushing snowflakes off his sleeve. You’d miss that.

You’d miss him.

His heat grew fainter as his long strides took him further away from you. Your tears had crystallized on your cheeks uncomfortably, a frozen reminder of what you’d lost. You had half the mind to storm right up to Seonghwa and force him to stay here, by your side. That was the child speaking within you, however, and you were no longer a child. 

Flicking the solidified salt water on your cheeks away, you did just the same as Seonghwa had minutes ago, trudging your way back to Icer lands. Little did either of you know, the two of you cried fresh tears along the whole journey back. 

The last time you ever stepped foot in the Grey Forest was just the day after. Your eyes were puffy and aching, hair a terrible mess, and a wax-sealed envelope was tightly clutched in your hand.

There was a chance that Seonghwa would never come back. In fact, it was most probable that he’d never get the precariously written letter you left by the usual meeting place, considering what he told you yesterday.

Fond memories sunk its sharpened claws into you, stealing away your breath as you cupped both hands over your mouth, overwhelmed in every way possible. You were far too drained to cry, having emptied away all your tears the day before.

And so, you brushed stray snowflakes off the periwinkle-hued wax stamp, placing it down by the tree stump where Seonghwa usually sat. 

Then you muttered a quiet, broken goodbye, stomping back to Icer lands. You were never going to see Seonghwa again. 

Dear Seonghwa,

I know you told me to never come back. I won’t, I promise. I just wanted to leave the letter because… we never properly got to say goodbye, did we?

Well, congrats, you big dummy. You’re right. You always were, and you always are. We were never supposed to be friends. I mean, I suppose we’re enemies now, aren’t we? It was quite the foolish fantasy we had going on there, huh? I get it, we have to stay loyal to our respective tribes, we can’t risk getting caught, so on so forth. I just hope that when war is declared (which doesn’t seem to be long from now, to be quite honest), I won’t see you on the battlefield. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. 

So, I guess this is goodbye. It’s a little hard to believe that I won’t ever get to see your stupid face again. Remember when I threw a snowball at you so hard that it broke your nose? You panicked and blood went splattering everywhere and it didn’t stop until I got you to calm down. For a highly-ranked Flamer soldier, I’d expect you to be less squeamish at the sight of your own blood. It’s alright, though. As a healer myself, blood still freaks me out just a bit.

I thought I ruined your pretty face for all the poor ladies and gents who were mad in love with you back at the Flame Tribe, and I felt so guilty. And then you smiled! I remember feeling envy and astonishment at the same time because how the hell could one look pretty while smiling through a broken, bloody nose? 

I’m glad I didn’t ruin your face, though. You’d probably get really mad at me if I did. But you would’ve forgiven me eventually, right?

Frankly, I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness for what I did. And no, I’m not talking about hurting your precious face (they say a once-broken nose makes a man more attractive!). I’m sorry for pushing you away, Seonghwa. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was scared and I needed time to think. I hope you understand that. If you don’t, that’s okay as well.

If I could rewind time, I wouldn’t have stopped kissing you. I could’ve carried on for days and days and days on end. Did you know that you’re the second person I’ve ever kissed? Don’t ask about the first, drunk Wooyoung isn’t really something to brag about. Well, for the record, you were the first kiss I actually enjoyed. Congrats.

Of course, all this doesn’t mean that it was entirely my fault. I waited for you for a week, and you did nothing but hide behind trees and watch. That was real shitty of you, to put it plainly.

I’ll miss you, though. I’ve never felt this way about any Icer and I doubt I ever will. Of all people to set my sights on, it just had to be a Flamer. What rotten luck we have.

Goodbye forever, Seonghwa. Stay safe, alright? For my sake.

With much love,

Y/N.

Seonghwa read the letter through so quickly that his pupils seemed to be moving at lightning speed. Then, with a numbed heart, he read it a second time, this time much slower.

By the third time he reread each of your carefully handwritten words, warm tears of salt water were running over his cheeks. His face had grown considerably hotter, the salty liquid steaming misty tendrils against his skin. He was angry. So, so ridiculously angry. At himself, at this stupid rivalry between the tribes, at you for being so goddamn perfect. Of course you’d managed to squeeze in jaunts and jokes in a farewell note.

There was a part of him that wished he’d never come back to the Grey Forest and found the letter. Fat droplets of his tears trickled down his jaw and soaked through the parchment, marring the intricate ink characters. With a gentle sigh, Seonghwa brushed the dampness away and stiffly flicked his wrist.

The letter burst into glowing orange flames. And Seonghwa watched on, stifling down the urge to break down into a fit of chest-wracking sobs, until your goodbye was nothing but a measly pile of blackened ashes on his palm.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (Part 7): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: the General makes you train, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into, and plans are revealed. 

wc: 2K

tw: none

a/n: Thank you for being patient, sunshines! 7.5 will be out tonight as a huge thank you to all of my followers and anons who are reading. You all are just amazing. 

masterlist

“Take a break!” The heavy rake is tossed to the ground,and you struggle for air, panting and coughing. Torturing you with the rake-swinging seemed to be Geto’s objective today, and it’s taking the life out of your body. 

As you rest on your back - facing the sky - there’s a massive gust of air above you, and you tilt your head back to see a tiny, raven haired boy standing above you. He’s fanning you eagerly, face scrunched up in frown as he exerts all of his energy on the fan. Your first reaction is to stare at the child in fascination; the next is to laugh. 

“Junpei…” you chuckle, and the child stops, letting the fan drift to his side. “You’re too sweet.” He nods once, huffing out a short breath, then starts fanning you again, making your hair blow back behind your ears. 

“Giving Lady y/n a nice breeze, Junpei?” Geto asks, walking towards you two with the rake in his hand. 

“Yes, Master Geto,” Junpei affirms, scrunching his face up even more as he increases  the force of his fanning. Geto leans on the rake and watches the scene with a small smile on his face, and you allow Junpei to continue his task for a moment longer before standing. You grin at the child, placing a hand on his head as you murmur:

“Thank you, sweet one.” His hair bobs as he bows to you, then to Geto, and dashes off into the camp once more. You watch the child run off, his hair flying in the stale air of the mid-day. 

“You have quite a few admirers, I see,” Geto begins, and you shake your head. “First, little Itadori, now Junpei… who’s next, I wonder?”

“I would like to wager a certain General would be next in line to try and win my hand,” you reply; Geto straightens up immediately and walks closer to you, a lazy grin painted on his face. 

“Well, it seems that General might have quite a difficult time getting past your growing line of suitors.” You both chuckle, and Geto tilts up your chin with a forefinger. You’re prepared to kiss him - well, that is until he stops and says:

“Only six more sets of ten swings to go.”

_______________________________________________________________________

 You can barely bring your spoon to your lips during lunch. 

“My Lady, do you require assistance?” 

You shake your head no, but your arms are screaming please help us. 

It was one thing to have to swing until the sun went down. It’s an entirely different thing to not only swing seventy times but also run laps around the field like a soldier in training. You felt exhausted by the third lap, but Geto encouraged you to run more; his hands on his knees as he watched you turn into a floundering fish on land. 

The other women surely watched you train with a curious eye. No one dares to ask why you allow Geto to reduce you to mush in full view of the camp, even though they know why you let him do it. 

Because he turns you to mush when they’re not watching, as well. 

“Master Geto?” Kaori shouts, standing from her seated position on the tarp laid out in the grass. 

“No, don’t!” you cry out, but she’s already trudging down the field, leaving you behind as she calls Geto’s name over and over again. You curse softly, sitting down your soup with agonizing slowness and try to stand from where you’re sitting, but your legs will not move an inch. 

“She can barely move; how do you expect her to eat lunch and remain healthy if you render her arms useless? Then you walk off, leaving her to her own devices! You don’t pay me enough to feed her like you do during dinner.” Kaori is stomping back up to you, followed closely by Geto, who is shrugging on his haori and appears to be rather alarmed. “You should take better care of your captives, Master Geto. Look at her!” 

You try your best to look as painless as possible, but the facade is broken when Geto extends a hand out and you grimace as you try to reach your own hand out. His face falls instantly and without speaking, he hoists you up into his arms. “Kaori, bring her soup, please. I’ll feed her myself.” Your head rests against his broad chest limply, and the way that his heart beats wildly against your ears oddly soothes you. You’re in pain, yes, but you’re not completely immune to the way he makes your heart stutter and trip over itself when he’s near you. And you’ve never been as near to him as you are now. 

“When you are in pain, you need to say something,” Geto chastises as he lays you in the bed, folding a fur up before resting you against it and sitting beside you. “Kaori made it sound like you were dying.” 

“I wasn’t dying,” you retort. “I tried to prevent her from saying anything.” 

“So, you thought I wouldn’t find out later?” When the head maid deposits the soup bowl into Geto��s hands, he looks up at you and raises a brow. 

“No, I--” 

“Open.” A spoonful of clear onion soup is presented to you, and you obey, knowing your argument is completely lost already. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re taken care of while you’re here,” he continues, offering another spoonful. “You should let me know when you’re struggling, or when you need something.” 

Your mouth is full of soup, so you can’t reply like you want to. But what would you even say? Would you tell him that you’ve been struggling between your plan - which had been altered slightly over the past few days - or would you tell him you needed him in more ways than one?  

“Master Geto,” a voice calls out at the opening of the tent. You don’t recognize the voice at all, but when the person walks through the flaps, you recognize his face. His wide, dark blue eyes are all-too familiar, and the young man’s mouth presses together in a thin line at the sight of you being spoon-fed by Geto. This is the same man who captured you when you tried to run away the first time. 

“Yuta, I’m glad you’re here. What do you have for me?” Yuta… The name rings a bell along with the memory of Nanami mentioning him when talking about the new emissary. Yuta produces a thin roll of brown paper and hands it to Geto. 

“They’re not going to send another emissary.” The implications of this knowledge brings the weight of the world down on your shoulders, and you look to Geto’s face, which is blank. 

“Wait, but that means--” you’re quickly interrupted by Yuta’s sharp eyes cutting to you, and Geto chuckles. 

“That means I’d better get you all settled in the next village as soon as possible.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

“What if the elders don’t agree to his plan?” you wonder aloud, and Kaori runs water down your arms before answering softly. 

“Then he will wipe the village out, my Lady.” 

“But how? And single handedly?” 

“I won’t claim to know how he does it. I have never been privy to his methods, nor would I want to be.” 

You think about Kaori’s words long after the bath was over, alone in the bedroom and wrapped in furs. The thought of Geto slaughtering an entire village is chilling, but his truly ruthless side was not something you had been exposed to. You shake thoughts of death out of your mind and stand from the bed, dragging the fur pelt behind you as you stride over to Geto’s desk to eye his newest plans. 

The page full of black and red ink marks is unfamiliar to you, and you can’t make heads or tails of the drawings despite looking at it from different angles. The mystery of the paper engrosses you fully - so much so that you don’t hear someone approaching you from behind. 

“They’re formations.” Yuta speaks behind you, and you jolt, knocking your hip against the table. 

“I b-beg your pardon?” you stutter, clutching the pelt around you tightly. 

“Formations... for battle.”  Yuta reaches over to point at a circle and then to the arrows moving away from it. “This is the center of the formation - where Master Gojo will be - and this,” he points to the triangle at the head of the formation. “Is where Master Geto will be.” 

“Why is Gojo well-protected and not Geto?” The inquiry is met with laughter as Yuta slides the paper away from you. 

“He’s not being protected. He’s protecting everyone else.” 

“And when is this occurring?” Yuta raises a brow, looking over at you with a tender gaze. 

“Haibara and Gojo are negotiating with the closest village as we speak, but we could encounter the Imperial Warriors at any time. This could happen tomorrow, if I’m being honest.” 

“Tomorrow?” Your shock doesn’t affect the young man at all, and he steps away from you, eyeing you carefully. 

“I won’t say anything further. Geto is protecting you from this information for some reason, and has obviously commanded Kaori to say nothing as well.” With this, he exits, and you’re left looking at the squares, circles, and triangles while wondering where you fit into all of this mess. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Your encounter with Yuta gave you more questions than answers, and when the bed dips behind you, you roll over to meet Geto face to face, intent on getting answers.

“I thought you were asleep.” You don’t respond to the statement, instead sitting up fully and pushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“You should have told me that you could go to war at any time.” Geto frowns, sliding in next to you and tilting his head to the side. 

“I’m waiting on word from Haiba--” 

“And that. What happened to my village after you took me?” 

“Little one, I haven’t touched your village. You would know if I made any decisions about the fate of your peers.” 

“Kaori doesn’t know what happened to her family, and she’s just a maid! Why would you feel obligated to tell me - a captive - about my family?” 

“You’re more than just a captive to me, y/n. You know that,” he whispers, blinking slowly. 

“Right, I’m a pawn,” you grunt. “I asked you to tell me your game, and now I’m asking you again. What do you plan on doing with me while you’re away at war? I know you’re not stupid enough to leave me here while you’re away and can’t keep an eye on--” 

Geto puts up a hand, trying to stop you from speaking. “You’re right, I hav--” 

“Did you know I tried to run away?” The General looks at you, face blank. “But I came back and…” You fumble for the words, but they don’t feel right in your mouth. So, you rephrase. “I came back because…” You pause. You remember the reason you justified coming back, but it doesn’t make sense now. You can’t even say you followed your own plan. It had fallen by the wayside the moment Geto’s lips met yours; that you knew for a fact. 

“Nanami watched you; I knew you left the tent the moment you began walking across the camp,” he admits, and your lips part in surprise. “But you turned around. I came to confront you after dinner, and that’s why I was at the tent when you started to yell. My anger overshadowed my disappointment, but then even that was overshadowed by my desire to have you.” 

“Then why--” 

“I’m not leaving you here; you’re absolutely right about that. I wanted to wait to tell you when the time was right, but… I suppose now is the time. Your carriage will leave as soon as Gojo and Haibara send word back to me about the village. I’m sending you home.”

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​ 

[bump1nthen1ght]

Sick Day (Demon x Reader)

Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader/ Non-Binary Demon

Genre: Urban fantasy, Domesticity, Established relationship

Warnings: Mentions of sickness (fevers, body chills, headaches), but nothing graphic

Word Count: 2008 words

Summary: Your demon partner isn’t sure how to play doctor

A/N: Based of this prompt by @monsterkinkmeme

“It’s the first time you’ve dated a demon and it’s also the first time you’ve gotten sick since you’ve been together. A fever paired with a throbbing headache has you hiding in bed for most of the day, trying to sleep whatever bug you caught, off. Your demon lover, on the other hand, is beside themselves and has turned to Google and WebMD on how best to take care of you. They now think you are dying because of your symptoms and are devising a way to save you.”

The minute I saw this prompt I was immediately awash with PINING for a large demon partner to cuddle with and I knew I had to write it.

A week after finals, 7 months into your relationship with Motholg, your immune system gives up.

You had been leaving work, thinking the heat in your cheeks and the ache in your bones was a product of a 6 hour shift, walking to Motholg’s apartment for date night. The past two week had you cooped up, anxious and studying, meaning you barely were able to make time for your partner.

You probably should have expected it, it’s happened every finals week since high school; A couple days into break you get a high fever and are stuck in your bed for a solid 48 hours. But you thought that, perhaps, this year was the exception. After nearly passing out when handing Motholg their fresh-made lasagna, you knew you weren’t so lucky.

“Darling?”

You groan from your blanket burrito, eyes and sweaty forehead barely peeking into the dim light of Motholg’s bedroom. The thought of forming a coherent thought makes your brain pound, so you don’t even try.

“I’ve made you some...uh…”

The door creaks open, Motholg automatically ducking their head so their long horns don’t hit the frame. Their red, slitted eyes narrow at something steaming in a teacup. “Yas-mine? Jasmeen? Uh-some herbal remedy I ordered from your virtual shopkeep. It was touted by several women named “Brenda” to  be the best thing for human illnesses.” Motholg’s hooves tap against the floor, just below the line of “too loud” for your migraine. You give another non-committal hum as they sit down on the bed. Despite being custom-made for their 7-foot stature, the bedframe still creaks under their weight. The top of your blanket sarcophagus is pulled back, revealing your disgruntled face.

Motholg helps you prop yourself up and hands you the teacup. You take a sip, quickly realizing it’s still quite hot, but power through anyway. The scalding water melts from your mouth down to your toes, abating your shivers, if only temporarily.

As you drink, Motholg’s fingers card through your messy hair, massaging your skull before resting their palm on your cheek. Their hand covers almost the entire side of your head, spotting a glimpse of a frown between their fingers.

“You’re even hotter than before and still quite sweaty. Would you like me to take the blankets?”

You shake your head, setting down your cup of tea.

“No, it’s probably just my fever breaking. It’s actually a good sign, despite how shitty I feel.” The warmth of your cocoon is beckoning you, your exposed chest and arms already shivering. “The blankets are good for my chills, but a big glass of ice water would be nice.”

Motholg raises an eyebrow, clearly perturbed by your backwards human symptoms. But they pat your head once more before sitting up.

“Of course, dear.” Motholg leans down to kiss your forehead, but is intercepted by the palm of your hand.

“Uh-uh, I don’t need you getting sick too.” Motholg scrunches up their face, then blows a raspberry into your skin. You retaliate by pushing away their face feebly.

“As if your human illness could fell me darling.” The sigh dramatically, pushing your hand away. “Though you are very sweet to think it could.”

You stick out your tongue and shove them. Motholg relents, blowing a kiss as they back out of the bedroom.

Your brain is beginning to drift into sleep when a glass clinks on the nightstand. Not bothering to open your eyes, far too tired, you mutter a “Thank you.” Motholg whispers a “You’re welcome,” as they lay on the bed once more. Their warm fur tickles your neck as they cuddle up behind you, arm thrown around your side and nuzzling their face into your hair. A hot breath and a slight nip of their extended canines only wills you to dreamland faster.

Motholg won’t go to sleep, only needing a full 8 hours every 4 days, but are rather content to lay beside you. They lovingly stroke your arm and sidle farther down under the comforter, whispering occasional sweet nothings and rocking you into unconsciousness.

--------

The dull red of the bedside clock pries open your eyes, a stark contrast compared to the pitchblack of the bedroom. Your brain is still in a fog, but given then the 3 AM flashing nearby, you’ve been asleep for about 9 hours.

And I’m about to sleep 9 more.

Motholg had left the bed at some point, but their warmth still lingers on the blankets. You close your eyes and snuggle in.

Slam!

But then the door slams open.

On a normal night, the noise might’ve jerked you upright , but your eyes simply roll over to the doorway. Your brain already misses unconsciousness.

Motholg stands, their new smartphone in hand as they breathe heavily.

“Darling, what did you say your body temperature was?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, slowly giving up on those peaceful 9 hours.

“99.7 last time I checked.” You tap your forehead with the back of your hand. “Probably less now. The sleep has been helping a lot. Good night.”

In an instant, Motholg is over to the bed, placing their hand on your forehead. You let out a disappointed sigh and try to go back to sleep anyways. The click of their hooves on hardwood, Motholg’s jittering shakes of your shoulder, and the strong smell of iron quickly eliminates that as a possibility.

You turn towards your partner, now noticing the sheen of liquid covering their hands. Red streaks follow their fingertips on their smartphone.

“Babe, why are your hands soaked in blood?”

“Goat’s blood, technically.”

Before you can even respond to that baffling answer, Motholg grabs your shoulder. The blood sticks to the short sleeves of your pajamas.

Damn, now I’ll have to wash this tomorrow.

“Here, it says the ritual-”

“The what?”

“-needs to be completed at 3:30 AM on a new moon.” Motholg pauses, checks their phone, then continues, “Yes, a new moon.”

Motholg begins to walk away, your arm still in their grip, but your resistance stalls them.

“Okay, Motholg, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? How the hell did you get goat’s blood at this hour?”

Motholg sighs and rolls their eyes, “Unimportant-”

You give Motholg a dissatisfied look, finally making them relent in heir tirade. They turn towards you.

“I fear for your life. I’ve consulted your online physician and your symptoms fall in line with many fatal illnesses.”

Now accepting that this is officially a conversation, you throw back your blankets and sit up.

“Do you mean WebMD?”

Motholg nods furiously and shows you their phone screen, tapping the glass with a long claw.

“See here? Full body chills are associated with pneumonia, so is a high fever. There’s also the possibility something is wrong with one of your organs. Not surprising, considering how squishy they are.” Motholg flicks their screen upward, a myriad of diagrams flips across it.

“Now, I know a couple of ceremonies my father used to perform to curse others with these illnesses, so I thought if I reversed the procedure-” Motholg pauses again, flipping to a new tab on their phone, “-So, I did some googling-”

Motholg pauses when your hand rests against their cheek. Their red eyes, which glow just slightly in the dark, look to you. You brush your thumb across their face, just barely grazing against the fur which starts at the base of their neck.

“Darling, I appreciate the concern really, I do. But these websites…” you pause, slowly pushing Motholg’s phone down and out of eyesight, “They really only show worst case scenarios. Honestly, they kind of just scare you into going to a doctor in person.”

Motholg’s eyes dart between your face and their phone, now pressed face down on their bed. They give off an aura of anxiety and stress, their hands fidgety and their hooves lightly tapping against the floor. “Here,” You pull up the covers, opening up the spot next to you. “Do you want to lie down with me for a while?”

“Oh, I don’t need to rest.”

“Just because your body doesn’t require it doesn't mean it won’t feel good. C’mon.” You pat the bed. “I think it will give you some peace of mind, keeping an eye on me.”

Motholg’s eyes shifted back to their phone, their brow furrowed. You pout your lips and slide your fingers up their chest. Their fur sticks and tussles under your touch.

“Babe, I would feel better if you relax, seriously.” You reach down to the bedside drawer, pulling out your sleep mask. “You can even bring your computer and get some work done.”

Hesitantly, they nod. You sigh in relief. Their hand unconsciously twirls your hair.

“I suppose….You would know about these things.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Motholg leaves to get their things, while you slip back under the covers. Before you put your sleep mask on, you shout to them.

“Make sure to wash that blood off!” You look down at your damp sleeve. “And could you get me a wet wipe as well?”

Motholg makes an affirmative noise, and you finally lay back and close your eyes.

Their body heat lingers above your as they sweetly wipe away the blood on your arm. You mutter a thank you. The bed dips as they down next to you, mattress bending as they adjust their laptop and fluff the pillows.

“Darling?”

“Hmmm?” You murmur, face still stuffed in your pillow.

“I just wanted to apologize for waking you. I feel very foolish for acting so paranoid.”

You flip your head to their side, keeping your mask on.

“No need to apologize, I get it.”

“Thank you for your understanding, but still, I feel so silly. To think a tiny sickness would force my emotions to overcome me.”

You slowly push up your mask, eyes peeking out from under the duvet. Motholg sheepishly picks at their keyboard, avoiding your eyes,

As disgruntled as it made you at first, Motholg’s droopy gaze stirred guilt in your gut. You wonder how many scenarios had run through their head while they googled, how helpless they must’ve felt. There might be a hole paced into the floor of the living room, given how flustered they were when they barged in.

You reach out to Motholg’s wrist, brushing your thumb over the back of their palm. Their red irises look over, and you think you see the tinies remnants of tear tracks at the corner of their eyes.

“Emotions aren’t a bad thing, they’re natural.” Grabbing the top of the blanket, you roll over to Motholg’s side. Their large body dwarfs yours and when you curl up against them, the tips of your feet barely meet the top of their calves. Their black fur is soft against your face, like a  mixture of a plush carpet and a goosefeather pillow.

Oh good, they used the Tea Tree soap.

“I’d probably do the same if you got sick.” You reach your hand up to their chest, cording through their thick fur. “We’re just gonna have to trust the other’s okay, huh?”

With your chin tucked into their ribs, Motholg smiles down at you. A claw runs up the back of your neck, stirring up goosebumps but relaxing your muscles.

“I believe so, darling.” Their fangs jut out from their lips as they continue to rub your neck. It’s quite goofy looking, for a demon, and gets a chuckle out of you.

You crane your neck and Motholg meets you halfway for a kiss, consequences be damned.

“Good night, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetling.”

You fall asleep with Motholg’s fingers curled in your hair, the slight tap of their claws on the keys, a simmering contentment in your heart.

--------

A week later, when  you’re back to full health, you and Motholg are making dinner when-

“Ah-choo!”

You stop stirring the pasta and furrow your brows at Motholg. They’ve stilled, mid-movement while setting out the plates. Their face burns with embarrassment.

“A silly human sickness, huh?”

[sunlight-moonrise]

The Price (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader is a technical analyst for the BAU. She did not expect to be smitten by the resident genius. 

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic as well as my first time writing smut. I’d like to thank @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​ for beta reading my work (you’re a gem and I’ll fight for you). Also a quick thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins​ and those in the discord for being so welcoming and helping me with this. The fic is inspired by @erin-bo-berin​ Sweet Cheeks. 

Category: Fluff and Smut

Content Warnings: Oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex

Word Count: 6.0K

Masterlist

There are a lot of things I enjoy about this job. The salary is decent. My coworkers are pretty cool. I get to interact with a sexy genius from time to time- you know, the usual that comes with being employed by the government.

I started as a technical analyst for the BAU a few months prior, working alongside the one and only Penelope Garcia with assisting the rest of the team behind some computer screens. Coding and hacking is second nature to me so the job is not too difficult. It was either this or facing some years in jail because I couldn’t cover my tracks fast enough. Looking at mangled and mutilated bodies on a weekly basis is better than prison.

I get along rather well with the team. I pretty much call everyone by a term of endearment, much to Garcia’s delight. It was one of the things we had in common and helped us get along with one another much faster. I sometimes can get carried away with the innuendos, but Garcia welcomes everything I say with open arms.

I typically save my more sensual remarks for the doctor. I remember the good old days when he used to be so tongue-tied by my actions. Now my words barely surprises him.

A voice broke my concentration. “What got you thinking so hard, angel?” I turn towards the person, a smile already adorning my face. Lo and behold, Dr. Spencer Reid has graced me with his delectable presence.

“Would you believe me if I said that I was thinking of you Doc?” He had a small smile on his face. I could pretty much categorize all the smiles he uses because of how often I stare at him. I mean, it is a tragedy to not stare at such beauty. This particular smile means that he is content and comfortable.

“May I ask exactly what it was that you were thinking about?” he asked. 

“I cannot share the sordid details of my mind with you just yet darling. You’ll just have to use that beautiful mind of yours and conjure up something imaginative.”

He let out a small laugh and helped me carry the files I was juggling. My eyes immediately went to his hands. The things I’ll let those hands do to me. I bet only one is needed to perfectly wrap around my -- No bitch, focus. We got a case to present in five minutes. Right, right. Work now, daydream later.

We entered the conference room, where the rest of the team was already sitting at the round table, waiting for us. I gave out the files with Spencer’s help while Penelope started up the monitor.

“You guys are staying local but time is of the essence” she informed us. The TV lit up with four pictures of young boys. “We have a kidnapping case at Stafford County.”

“Were they kidnapped at the same time or place?” asked JJ as she skimmed over the report I handed out earlier.

“No” I said as I pointed to the two younger boys on the screen. “Jacob Rivers and David Hall were taken from their respective homes 48 hours ago” I then pointed to the two slightly older boys “Benjamin Harris was taken 12 hours ago at a park and Scott Turner was taken from the mall less than 6 hours ago.”

“Do these boys have anything in common?” Morgan asked out loud.

“Other than physical appearance and age group, these boys don’t have any similarities. They didn’t even go to the same school. As a matter of fact, David Hall was home-schooled.” replied Garcia.

“Garcia and I couldn’t find any common ground in the families’ educational, economic, or social backgrounds either” I added. “Once you guys take off, we’ll do a further dive into their personal histories.”

“The UnSub is already escalating, kidnapping from a private home and kidnapping from a crowded area within hours of each event is fairly drastic” Rossi stated.

“Maybe the Unsub is on a time frame? They could be feeling pressured and desperate” Emily questioned, trying to come up with some kind of initial profile.

Hotch already started standing up. “We’ll know more after analyzing the crime scenes and talking to local PD. Let’s head out.” The rest of the team followed, gathering their files and making an exit towards the door while Garcia headed for our office. Spencer lagged behind a bit and I already knew why. We have a little tradition of bidding farewell to one another before he takes off for a case.

I stood next to him, bumping my shoulder against his upper arm. “Don’t miss me too much while you are out there.”

“The more you remind me I have to leave, the more I want to stay here.” he grinned.

I snorted at his words, knowing that he was full of shit. There is nothing more that Reid loves than being out in the field. “Go be a hero and come back to me in one piece pretty boy.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he replied as he went to follow the team towards the elevator.

I swear that boy is immune to my teasing now. I miss seeing his face become flush, but I also enjoy the playful repartee we have now. I remember the first interaction I had with Spencer quite vividly. It truly was a comical moment.

 “Everyone this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She will be working alongside Garcia.” Hotch stated as he introduced me to the team. I have already met him and Penelope prior to being presented to everyone else.

“Derek Morgan, pleasure to meet you.” Whoa. If tall, dark, and handsome was a person, Morgan would be fit for the role. He offered his hand, which I immediately took.

“The pleasure is all mine” I replied with a wide smile.

I directed my attention to a much older gentleman. “David Rossi” said the Italian man who reminded me of a mob boss.

“Charmed to meet you.” I shook his hand, surprised by the strength behind it. Those older bones are still working for him.

Next came the petite blonde, whose figure I was both envious and enamored with. “Jennifer Jareau, but everyone here calls me JJ for short.”

“In that case, please call me (Y/N/N).” I shook her hand, and became even more envious with how soft her skin was. She has got to tell me her secrets.

I focused on the brunette with shoulder-length hair. “Emily Prentiss”. My God, I think being attractive is a requirement for this team. She offered her hand to shake and her grip was firm. Note to self, forget about Rossi; don’t get on Emily’s bad side.

“Nice to meet you.”

I turned to the final individual and was blown away by his beauty. Yup, my previous thought has been confirmed. Only good-looking people are allowed pass these doors. His bone structure looked like it was sculpted by Roman artists. His body was lean and slender, reminding me of a runner’s physique. My eyes stared up to the softest hazel eyes I have ever seen.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” he introduced. I offered my hand immediately, wanting to feel his skin against mine.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you already knew that,” I said softly, my hand still out. He just stared at it as if it was an anomaly.

“Uh-the amount of pathogens passed through a handshake is astounding. A high five transmit half the number. But even then, a kiss is much more safe.” he quickly stated as he nodded his head. I almost didn’t catch any of it. Partially because of the rapid speech, partially because I was staring at his lips.

“Hmm, that’s news to me. However, if a kiss is what you want…” I lowered my hand and took a step closer to him. My eyes slowly moved from his eyes to his mouth and then back up. He took a slight step back.

“N-N-No, that’s not—I-I mean that —uhh...” His face was flushed and his tongue shot out to run against his lips. His eyes quickly darted across the room, seeking some help. I felt a sense of pride knowing I made this man flustered.

“I’m just teasing Doc.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was frightened by me. Maybe he was, but the blush on his face and the way he kept staring gave me further information on him.

“Don’t mind Reid,” Morgan said, coming to the young man’s rescue. “He has a thing with germs.” He finished, a smirk plastered on his face. Well, I hope he soon develops a thing for something else. Or rather someone else.  

I was just about to make another sly comment when Hotch interrupted. “Back to the case at hand.” He gave us all a pointed look. Right, I am at my first day at work. I’ll focus on hot doctors with hotter smiles and the hottest face at my own time.

“Yes sir,” Garcia stated, as she started pushing buttons on a remote. The TV turned on and pictures of three different women showed up on the screen. They all looked to be strangled to death. “You guys are needed in Toledo, Ohio.” Garcia goes on to describe the case while the team starts the early stages of conducting a profile.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says and the everyone disperses. Garcia walked up to me and handed me some documents from the case file.

“C’mon cupcake, we gotta do some preliminary work to get the case going much faster.” I followed her to what she called the “bat cave”. I scanned the small room and immediately fell in love. Computers and monitors littered almost every inch of the place. I saw a lot of colorful knickknacks displayed on one side of the desk, knowing already who they belonged to. The area was endearing and had a cozy feel to it.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This place is a dream come true.” I am sure she can hear the awe in my voice.

“I know, right. Wait until you actually use it girlie, the framework on these things is out of this world.” I sat myself on a chair nearby and rolled in front of a screen.

“Alrighty. You can do some background checks on these girls while I gather more information from the police reports. Let me know if there are any commonalities among any of them. We’ll relay that info with the team.”

“Gotcha babe, I’ll have the information ready ASAP.” I responded, already typing away on the computer. I’m already starting to like it here.

*Later that day*

Garcia and I haven’t found much in common between the victims of the crimes, much to our dismay. I was left in the office to continue searching for important information on the girls while she went to fax some data to the precinct when the phone started to ring.

I quickly answered and put it on speaker. “(Y/L/N) at your humble service. How may I serve you?”

“Oh-uh is Garcia around” replied a high-pitched voice, which I immediately recognized as Reid. I don’t know whether or not I should be insulted that he wanted Penelope or pleased that I probably still have him flustered.

“She’s a bit pre-occupied at the moment. But rest assured I can find whatever you need Doc. Especially if you ask nicely.”

“Uh-I need you to pull up information on the mothers. We think they were all in the same sorority, however not necessarily at the same time. We need a list of all the members of the sorority from the time the mothers joined with a 3-year pre- and post-graduation.”

“No problemo sweetness. Anything else I can do for you? I have a lot of other services that can be helpful.” I stated, a teasing tone in my voice as I already set up my search.

“No-no, that’s all. Um thanks.” I can already picture the blush coating his cheeks as he stammered his response.

“Alright love, call me back if you need anything. Or if you change your mind.” I hung up the phone and started organizing the list in front of me.

 And from then on, I have enjoyed pretty much all the moments I had with the BAU. It took some time, but Spencer now has accepted and even returned my little flirtations.  We often get compared to Garcia and Morgan. But with a lot more sexual tension, at least on my end. I have to remind myself from time to time to calm down before I combust in the middle of a conference room or the bullpen. C'est la vie.

I made my way to the cavern of all things amazing and settled in front of my computers. Pen looked at me with a knowing expression on her face. “You’re gloomy.”

I pouted as I put my earpiece on. “I am not gloomy, I am horny,” I rebuked.

“How long has it been since you got some?”

“I’m not sure but it feels like I have not gotten any since the Stone Age,” I groaned out.

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell him how you feel,” she pointed her pink glittery pen in my direction, “I bet he would fuck you right here if you let him.”

And there goes my thought process, as always, overtaken by Spencer Reid. “Babe, please. This is not helping my situation.”

“Just telling you how it is.”

●●●

We have been sitting in front of these screens for hours. The team has made some progress but they’re missing an important piece to fit the puzzle. Garcia has been looking into the background of the neighbors when I heard a small stomach grumble coming from her direction. I let out a laugh as she huffed out “I am going to grab a snack from the breakroom, you want anything boo?”

“If it ain’t alcohol or chocolate, I don’t want it.”

“Noted,” she said as she left the room. I really hope she finds a couple of cupcakes or something.

I continued trying to get information on these missing kids when my headpiece played the Doctor Who theme song, informing me that Einstein was calling in. “Goddess of knowledge and wisdom at your disposal.”

“I didn’t know I had Athena at my fingertips.” How is it possible that nine words have short-circuited my brain just now? Is it the voice or the way he basically called me a Greek Deity? Probably both.

Of course I slyly responded, “Oh my Hephaestus, you have all of me at your fingertips.” I heard a chuckle and I immediately knew it belonged to Morgan. A slight blush crept onto my cheeks when I heard a random voice asking why Spencer called his girlfriend in the middle of a case.

“I should have mentioned that you were on speakerphone.”

“Naughty boy, you know I charge extra for groups.” Now this was followed by some choked out noises and a bunch of giggles. I could only assume the whole precinct was amused by my antics at this point. 

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I can, for a price.”

“A price?”

“Yes, a price that I would inform you of in private. Now the reason for your call…” I drew out. Thank goodness Garcia wasn’t here. I don’t need her looking at me as if I am a phone sex operator.

“I need you to check foster children between the ages of four and eight within a 25-mile radius. We are looking for a homosexual couple that were looking to adopt but were rejected. The names should be on multiple applications among different sites. Let me know what you find.”

“I’ll have that information at the palm of your hands soon” Meanwhile, I am over here wishing that I was at the palm of his hands.

“Thank you, my Goddess” I can’t help but smile when he says things like this. Since when were the roles reversed in our friendship?

“Anything for a gorgeous worshipper. TTYL.”

Garcia chose that moment to walk back in while I had this silly grin on my face. She stared at me and I already knew what she was going to say.

“If you don’t have a piece of chocolate or a cocktail on you, I am not talking.”

All she did was laugh at me.

●●●

The team was able to find all four boys safely. The UnSubs were a male couple who wanted to adopt but kept facing discrimination against the agencies. It is a shame that they felt they had to resort to kidnapping in order to have a family.

Now Garcia and I are scanning the notes the team faxed to us earlier today. They informed us that they would be back here in half an hour or so.

“Shoot, I didn’t think it would take this long to scan these damn files.” Garcia murmured.  I looked over at her and saw a small stack of documents that still needed to be put into the system.

I walked over and grabbed the pile from her. “Go, I’ll take care of it from here doll.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad. You did your portion of the work already.”

“Don’t you have to be at the rehearsal in 20 minutes? How is the theater going to operate without their main lead?” I placed the documents on my side of the desk and moved to gather Garcia’s belongings.  I picked up her purse and jacket before handing it to her, quickly pushing her towards the door. “I got this, think of it as an IOU.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I owe you big. Thank you sugar, see you tomorrow.” Garcia hurriedly exited the door and headed towards the elevator. 

I looked towards the papers, a low groan leaving my mouth. The faster I go through this, the better.

●●●

I was just finished implementing all the documents into the computer when I heard a knock at the door. I turned around and saw Spencer’s head peeking through. “Evening handsome, to what do I owe this visit?”

“Garcia passed by me a while ago and informed me you were in here finishing some extra work. I wanted to check on you; see if you needed my help.”

“Thanks Doc, but you’re a few minutes too late. I already finished scanning the files. Besides, you’re not the best with technology, much less these computers.”

“Maybe not. But I am a fast learner and I pay close attention to detail.” Either my ears were playing a trick on me or Spencer’s voice lowered an octave or two.

I remembered what Penelope said earlier today and decided to just go for it. “I could collect on that price from earlier.” I leaned against the desk and stared into his eyes. C’mon Doc, pick up the hint. Rather, pick me up instead.

“Well I was thinking that I can get you dinner.” he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

That’s great, but not what I had in mind. “I was hoping for something else” I looked into his eyes, then slowly trailed my eyes downwards. Kiss me. Kiss me. Touch me. Lick me. Fuck me. Kiss me.

Unfortunately, Spencer is not a mind reader. He lowered his head and looked slightly dejected. “Oh well umm—would you prefer to go to a theater?” Oh Doc, you sexy, naïve, intelligent, innocent man. I guess if you want something you have to do it yourself.

I sat on the edge of my desk. “Come here Spencer.”

His head perked up, slightly intrigued since I rarely call him by his name. He walked to where I was sitting but there was still space between us.

“Closer, I don’t bite.” Unless you want me to.

He moved closer to me and I was able to rest my hands on his shoulders. Thankfully the height of the table let us be more at level with one another.

I made sure to look into his eyes as I said “I am going to kiss you. If that isn’t something you want, tell me now.”

He was speechless. His mouth was moving but no sounds came out. If the circumstances were different I would have appreciated seeing his rattled expression once more. I waited a few seconds, but he still has yet to say anything.

“Spen-mmh” before I knew it, his mouth was upon mine. He gently cradled my face as his lips moved against my own. My eyes closed as I felt nothing but bliss. As cliché as it sounds, I was in paradise because of this kiss alone.

His tongue peeked and swiped against my lower lip, trying to have a taste of me. I was more than happy to grant him entrance, a moan leaving my body as his tongue touched mine.

All parts of me were trying to feel him. I had one hand in his hair while the other grabbed onto the back of his shirt. My chest was pressed against his while my legs lazily wrapped around his midsection. His scent was intoxicating to me. It was a coffee-like smell as if he just walked out of a café. He tasted so sweet, all I wanted to do was keep his mouth on mine. But my body needed air so I slowly pulled away.

He tried to catch his breath as his forehead rested against mine. “So you don’t want dinner?”

“Doc the only thing I am hungry for right now is you. We’ll get food afterward, alright?” Spencer nodded his head while licking his lips. My eyes hungrily followed the action and I just had to get another taste. I pulled him towards me, his hands once again holding onto my face. He was much more dominant with this kiss, and I was more than willing to give him the control. His hands then trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to his pelvis. I jerked against him and was rewarded with a groan.

He squeezed me tighter as his lips broke away from mine once more. He placed a peck on my lips, then my cheek before trailing down my neck. I felt my body heat up as I released a small moan. Fucking hell, he is going to be the death of me and we barely did anything.

Spencer started to lightly nibble on my neck when I pulled him back by his hair. “It is summer and I am not wearing a turtleneck in 80° weather. If you’re gonna give me some hickeys, they better be on my chest.” He murmured something that I couldn’t quite comprehend before undoing the buttons of my blouse.

Hell, I am not the only one who is gonna be undressed so I started unbuttoning his dress shirt as well. It was a race to see who would get the other’s shirt off first. Of course I lost because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. But when his warm lips kissed their way towards the middle of my cleavage, I felt like a fucking champion.

I tried my best to shimmy out of the sleeves of my blouse while Spencer attempted to take my bra off, his lips still leaving a love mark against my chest. Once we got rid of the shirt and the bra, his mouth immediately enveloped one of my nipples.

“Fuck” I yelped loudly, “a little warning next time Doc.”

“Sorry” he muttered as he continued to suck on my breast while palming the other between his dexterous fingers. That had to be the most insincere apology I have ever heard from him. An idea came across my head. I slowly removed his shirt, watching it pool on the floor. I then raked the nails of one hand across his chest while the other pulled against his hair. Hard. He retaliated by lightly biting my nipple. Fuck, the plan backfired. Abort mission, abort the damn mission.

Spencer let out a small chuckle as he pulled away from my breast, an audible pop leaving his mouth. My hands went to his face and I moved him up to look at me. His eyes were dilated and his mouth was swollen. His face was flush and he was taking deeper breaths than usual. He looked so beautiful like this.

He had a dorky smile on his face and I realized that I said the words out loud. I felt my face heat up fast and he swiftly commented “I’d never thought I’d see you be so thrown off because of me.”

He rested his hands against either side of the desk and just looked at me. “Shut up and kiss me.” I hissed, already missing the warmth of his skin against mine.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” he asked. I was about to reply when he interrupted “Do you want me to kiss you on your lips? Or maybe you want me back on those beautiful breasts of yours?”

Have mercy on me, I never believed Spencer Reid could make me so wet just with his words. Sure, I thought of it, but I didn’t believe it would happen to me.

“Maybe you want me to go lower. Should I place my lips on that pussy of yours?” Oh my fuck, I never want this moment to end. I nodded my head so quickly, I could have sworn I given myself whiplash.

“I want to hear you say it,” he breathed out.

“Yes, yes, please. I want you to eat my pussy. Please.” I begged. Dignity be damned.

“That’s my good girl” How is it possible that he went from the dorky adorable doctor to this assertive, stimulating specimen in a matter of minutes? I didn’t think he had a sensual bone in his body. But I am glad to be proven wrong.

Spencer lowered himself to his knees while I clumsily attempted to rid myself of my skirt and panties. I lifted my lower body up as he pulled the clothing off of me. Penelope would have a field day if she knew that I was sitting butt naked on the desk with Spencer Reid between my legs. Hell, I am having a field day knowing this.

Spencer, being the teasing bastard that he has been for the past few minutes, started kissing my legs first. “That’s not where I said I wanted you to kiss me” I huffed out.

“Hush” was all he said as he continued the slow trail up, making sure to alternate between each leg. I was already breathing as if I have ran a marathon, my patience was waning at this point. Finally, he made his way to where I needed him most. He put his hands on my thighs and pushed them further apart.

My hands landed on top of his head, playing with the curls. “You’re comfortable down there Doc?” I snickered, loving the sight of his head between my legs. All he did was nip my inner thigh harshly. I shrieked at the action. I’m starting to think this man has a tiny biting fetish.

I wasn’t ready for when his tongue parted my folds. I squeaked as he teasingly lapped the arousal that had formed the second he walked into the room. I tried rolling my hips but his hands made me stay put on the desk. I never knew he could hold me down like this. I couldn’t even be mad because the pleasure he was giving me was incredible.

Spencer continued to tease me, his tongue never going where I needed it most. He made sure to explore as much as possible as leisurely as possible. “Spencer, please” I cried out. He let out a small hum, the vibration causing a shiver to rack my body.  

His tongue finally entered me, much to my delight. No amount of imagination could have ever prepared me for the things this appendage can do to me. He continued this soft, flat movement that was driving me crazy. My hands tightened in his hair, hoping he would go a bit faster.

“You taste so good princess, I don’t want this to end.”

“That’s my Queen to you” I jested. He didn’t like that since he responded with a resounding smack against my outer thigh. Ouch, note to self, Spencer doesn’t like being teased during sexy times. Hmm. On second thought, continue to tease Spencer during sexy times.

I felt his finger probe my entrance, moving up and down before pushing inside of me. I let out a distressing whine as he started slowly moving his finger in and out of me, curling as he did so. His mouth was on my clit, sucking and kissing it as if he has done so all his life.

My body started heating up and trembling. I tried, and failed, to roll my hips against the movement. “Spe-Spencer” I wailed. He didn’t relent.

Spencer entered a second finger into me as his tongue gave small, flickering motions against my bundle of nerves. I had to move one hand to my mouth to prevent any loud noises from being heard outside the room. Shit, did we even lock the door?

That thought immediately left my mind as my core started to tighten. Spencer must have known that I was getting close to my orgasm because he moved his fingers more diligently within me. I felt his fingers curl as they pulled out, I felt his tongue lick thoroughly against my pearl, I felt my ecstasy rising within me. It took one more deep press of his fingers and a harsh suck for me to come all over his face. I bit down on my fingers as I moaned out loud.

“That was so much better then what I imagined” I panted out, the words barely coming out comprehensible. I had a giant smile decorating my face.

He pulled his face up, a smug grin gracing his face. “Is this what you were thinking about earlier this morning?” he taunted. I couldn’t even give him a smartass remark because I was too busy trying to come back to reality. He pulled his fingers out and held them in front of my face.

“Open” he ordered. I complied and he pushed his fingers inside of my mouth. “You look so pretty when you follow instructions well. See how good you taste.”

I pulled my head back, taking his fingers out of my mouth. “I bet I taste a lot better on that tongue of yours.”

He tangled his hand in my hair and pulled me to a kiss. I immediately opened and welcomed his tongue against mine. I was right, I do taste better on him. I let out a deep moan and pulled away far enough to gently bite down on his lower lip.

He looks at me, that devilish tongue of his running against his lower lip before entering my mouth once again. With his lips still on mine, he picked me up and move to sit on my desk chair. It was nothing short of a miracle that we managed not to fall on the floor.

I placed my hand on top of his erection through his slacks and he drew a quick intake of breath. I started palming him as I grinded myself against him. I pulled back as I whispered, “I need you, Spencer”.

“Y’know this is the most I have heard you call me by my name in any given moment we have been together.” He unzipped his slacks and pushed down his pants and boxers as much as he could with me on top of him.

I looked down, finally being able to see his cock. Is it possible to get aroused further through sight alone? Because I think I creamed myself again. God, I wish I could show him my oral skills, but we’ll save that for another time.

“Would you rather I call you by something else?” I asked, attempting to move my lower body so that it can align with his cock. I say attempt because Spencer currently had his hands on my thighs again.

“No, I like the way my name sounds as you moan it out. Don’t hide your pleasure from me this time.” He maneuvered my legs to rest upon the armrest on either side of the chair, leaving my pussy wide open for him.

I gave him an incredulous look. “Are you forgetting that we are at work?”

He started rubbing the tip of his cock against my lower lips. “I didn’t forget. I just don’t fucking care.” And with that, he slowly penetrated me.

We both groaned at the intrusion. He gradually started entering me as I adjusted to his size. Inch by inch, he gave me all of him until he was buried to the hilt.  I took a moment to savor the feel of Spencer inside of me before I started grinding against him. He took that as a hint to begin thrusting.

He started slow, taking his time and having us enjoy the feeling of one another. “Your cunt is so fucking tight” he hissed into my ear and I gave out a loud whine.

“That’s because you have such a big cock, Doc” I managed to moan out. He smacked my ass before grabbing each cheek tightly in his hands. “I want you to call me by my name” he grits out.

“Spencer, baby please give it to me. I’ve been waiting for this Spencer, I’ve been waiting for you.” He started kissing my neck once more and my eyes started to closed. I wanted to focus on the pleasure he was giving me.

He tightly grabbed me, moving my hips along with his thrusts. I was close to being pushed over the edge once more. The only sounds occupying the room were our moans and skin smacking against skin as we chased our pleasure.

“Open your mouth” I heard him say. I opened my eyes to see his thumb positioned over my lips. I let out a small whimper as I sucked his digit earnestly. I made sure to coat his finger with a lot of saliva, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it when it was out of my mouth.

He pulled his thumb out and immediately placed it on my clit. I gave out an embarrassingly loud sob as he started moving his finger against me in soft circular motions. I placed my lips on his neck, trying to muffle the noise coming out of my throat.

Spencer quickly grabbed my hair and pulled my head away as he started to slow down. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to hear your pleasure?” In that moment, Spencer controlled my mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sorry Spencer. I’ll be your good girl, please don’t stop.” He returned back to the previous pace and thrust into me even harder. We both started chasing our orgasms, not being able to hold back any longer. He was pounding into me relentlessly and I was loving it. I am sure that I am going to be sore after this.

“Come for me (Y/N), I want to feel this tight cunt squeeze around my cock.” Say less, I am already ahead of you. My eyes were rolling to the back of my head and I felt my pussy pulsate around him. With one last motion against his thumb, I cried out his name multiple times as I climaxed.  

Spencer whispered my name as he continued pushing into me, chasing his own orgasm. He thrust a couple more times before quickly pulling out, spilling himself over my stomach. I panted as I laid my head against the crook of his neck. His fingers thrummed a slow rhythm upon my lower back.

“So about that dinner... do you want to get Indian food?”

“Yeah, I can go for some samosas right now.”

[delacyrose224]

Long Story Short

-Pairing: guitarist!Jin x reader (named)

-Premise: You've been hurt in past relationships, but there's a goofy guitarist that seems to be passing every test you throw at him. Now what?

-Genre: rock band!AU, fluff with a sprinkle of angst (as always)

-Warnings: cursing, douchebag Namjoon, shirtless Seokjin (which always deserves a warning for heart health)

-Word Count: 4.8k

-Author's Note: This is conclusion to the evermore trilogy/Gold Rush universe. Based off of 'long story short' by Taylor Swift, but once again, you don't need to know the song to enjoy!

*Bzzt bzzt*

You hear the buzzing of your phone from across the room where you’re curled up in a blanket watching tv. Who the heck is calling you on a Saturday morning at 10am? You fling the blanket off yourself and pad over to your bag, fumbling through its contents until you find your phone, angrily screaming your ringtone even louder as you remove it from its hiding place.

Incoming Call: Jin

Uhh...okay. You’d gone out on a date with him a few days ago, and last night you and your best friend had hung out with him and his band. That didn’t explain him calling and interrupting your me time on Saturday morning.

“...hello?”

“Margot?” Jin sounds far away from the receiver for some reason.

“...live and in person. Well, not in person. You know what I mean. What’s up?” you reply, not knowing where this is all going.

“Can’t I call a pretty girl on a Saturday morning because I miss her?” Jin retorts, still sounding far away from the phone. Good thing he’s not here to see the flush creeping onto your cheeks.

“You can, but you literally just saw me last night. Like 12 hours ago, less even. Why do you sound like you’re calling from outer space?”

“You’re on speaker...I guess I should have started the conversation with that bit of information. I’m making the boys brunch because I’m apparently the only one who can cook around here,” you can almost see how hard Jin is rolling his eyes at this statement.

“Hi Jungkook! Hi Yoongi!” you raise your voice to make sure you’re heard in their apartment.

“...hey.” you hear Yoongi close by, followed by Jungkook yelling across the room. “Hey M!! Jin won’t shut up about you, I think he might be in loooooove,” he singsongs.

“And that’s enough of that,” Jin swiftly turns off speakerphone and you can hear him much more clearly all of a sudden.

“Is it true? Are you in loooooove with me?” you mimic Jungkook’s voice.

“Have I ever told you how pretty your singing voice is?” Jin deflects smoothly. You’re so taken aback by the response, you don’t know what to say next.

“As I see I have made you speechless-I tend to have that effect on women-and men, actually...the world is just stunned by my beauty, honestly. No one is immune,” he derails quickly from wherever he was originally going with his sentence, and you giggle.

“Jinnie-you called me at 10am on a Saturday morning, because why…?” you steer the conversation back to where it needs to go.

“Ah yes...I called because I wanted to see if you wanted to cash in on that second date I promised you earlier this week tonight?” he questions.

“I think I would like that,” you smile, remembering your first date three days ago. He had taken you to dinner at a hole in the wall diner where he seemed to know all the elderly waitresses by name, and after the two of you had gone to a drive-in movie.

“Great. I’ll swing by your apartment to pick you up at 7, if that’s okay?” he sounds a little unsure of himself, unusual for him.

“Sounds perfect. Is there anything specific I should wear?”

“Just something casual, nothing fancy. I’ll see you then, pretty girl.”

“See you...oh, and Jinnie?” He hums in response.

“I missed you too,” you smile.

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

You flop back down on the couch after hanging up with a smile on your face. Jin’s very sweet, and not quite what you expected. He’s the lead guitarist for the band Gold Rush, who you’ve been a fan of for about half a year. You’d happened to catch them as the opening act for another band you’d gone to see, and immediately had fallen in love with their music. It didn’t hurt that all the band members were cute either...you’d only seen them that one time as an opener, until you’d seen a flier for a show of theirs at The Dynasty, a small local bar. You’d immediately decided to drag your best friend to see them, making it a game with yourself to try and get Jin’s attention, and to your surprise, it had worked. He and the drummer, Jungkook, had asked the two of you to hang out after the show. After grabbing food, Jin had asked for your number and taken you out on a date the next day, eagerly promising you a second the following weekend.

If you were being honest with yourself, Jin fell into the trap of being your ‘type’. He was in a band, could sing and play guitar, and had healthy (bordering on sometimes too much) self-esteem. He reminded you of your ex, Namjoon. Also in a band, also a lead guitarist, also could be full of himself. All Jin was missing was an undercut and a few scattered tattoos. You supposed Jungkook had enough for the two of them combined.

You sigh deeply as you wrap yourself back into your blanket. Namjoon had destroyed you when it came to relationships in some ways, even though he had started off as a rebound from another toxic relationship. He had fallen into all the stereotypical ‘guy in a band’ tropes: his needs were more important than yours, he had cheated on you multiple times with groupies, and he gaslit you when you tried to talk through what was going on. You had put up with his shit for far too long, until your best friend had opened your eyes to how different you’d become. Quiet, less likely to speak your mind, and even less willing to be social. Once you’d left him, you’d felt a giant weight lifted off your shoulders, but it had made you extremely wary of relationships.

Jin was cute, and you didn’t see the harm in a couple of dates. He was funny and talented, and he hadn’t pissed you off yet, which was a win in your book. There’s no way he was actually interested in a real relationship...he was clearly a flirt, as you’d witnessed the night you met when he gave you his guitar pick, and he was too busy. He was in a band that was trying to break into the larger music scene in your city. You’d both have your fun, and move on with your lives.

Right?

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

You busy yourself the rest of the day by completing household chores. By the time you’re getting ready for your date, you’ve managed to vacuum, do several loads of laundry, wash the dishes in your sink, and rearrange your bookshelf in your bedroom. You hop in the shower at 5:30, and contemplate your outfit choice while washing your hair. A sundress should work...it’s been warm outside lately, but it’s still cute while being casual. You’ll wear sneakers with it just in case you end up walking somewhere.

You throw on said sundress and sneakers after toweling off, and decide you’ll go for fun accessories-specifically a pair of dinosaur earrings and a crossbody bag in a bright shade of pink, swiping on a lipstick to match. You smile in approval at yourself in the mirror just as you hear a soft knock at the door.

You step into your living room, opening the door to see Jin looking rather nervous. “Hey handsome,” you grin. He’s wearing a pair of dark wash ripped jeans with a lavender hoodie that’s a little too big on him. Cute.

“Hey you...you look nice,” he returns your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You ready to go?”

“Yep! Where are we going?” you ask as you grab your keys and shut the door, making sure it’s locked behind you.

“Well, I figured we could start with a walk through the park. It’s still light out for a little while, but we might be able to catch the sunset...there’s also a great ice cream stand off one of the trails, so if you want to, we can grab some. After, I figured we could come back to your place and watch a movie, your pick, obviously. Does that sound okay?” he glances over at you as you both take the stairs down to the ground floor of your apartment building, opening the door for you as you reach the outside.

“Hmm…” you pretend to think as you turn to walk the two blocks to the park. Jin’s eyebrows raise, as he quickly jumps to conclusions-that the park was the worst idea you’d ever heard.

“I think it’s perfect. I’ll race you to the park, loser buys the other ice cream!!” You laugh and sprint off in the direction of the park, silently thanking yourself for wearing sneakers.

“You little...oh, come on!” Jin starts running as well, his long legs giving him an advantage as his wide strides let him catch up to you quicker than you thought. You’re neck and neck for most of the second block, sweat starting to form on both your brows.

“You’re...not...beating...me!” You huff, nimbly dodging around a pedestrian walking their dog.

“Oh...really?” Jin breathes out harshly, leaping over someone’s spilled smoothie in the middle of the sidewalk. You can both see the entrance to the park, it should only take a minute more to get there...suddenly, Jin puts on a burst of speed, sprinting his way to the entrance before you can even say anything in protest.

You arrive a few seconds later, huffing and puffing as you place your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

“I believe you were saying something about me not beating you? What was that?” Jin is beaming, his eyes glinting mischievously as he looks down at you.

You still can’t manage to catch your breath enough for a response, so you settle instead for glaring daggers up at him.

“C’mon, loser. I promised you a leisurely walk, so let’s go...even though you already took us both for a run no one asked for,” Jin chuckles, grabbing your hand as you stand up and interlocking your fingers.

Your face warms, and not just from the sprinting. You’re surprised that Jin isn’t annoyed with you for pulling the stunt you just did...it wasn’t like you planned it exactly, but it worked well as a sort of test to see exactly how much nonsense Jin would put up with. So far, more than you thought he would. You smile to yourself.

“What’re you grinning about now? If it’s another race, I give up, you win!” Jin exclaims loudly, drawing stares from several passersby on the trail you’ve chosen.

“Shhh…” you shush him, trying to place a finger in front of his lips. He playfully bites at it before kissing it quickly. Your eyes widen. “People are staring,” you half-whisper, slightly embarrassed.

“...and? Let them stare. I’m on a date with a pretty girl, and I don’t care if the world knows! Isn’t Margot wonderful?!” he raises his voice for the last bit, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. The warmth from earlier returns, creeping even further up your face. You must be entirely red by now by the levels of heat you feel like you’re radiating. Jin takes advantage of your flustered state by taking your other hand and pulling you close. He wraps both arms tightly around you and buries his face in your hair, kissing you lightly on the top of the head. You pull away, eyes widened in wonderment at his actions. Who is this guy? You can’t quite figure him out.

“What? You’re pretty, I’m lucky you’re on a date with me, and I’m an affectionate guy. Sometimes. Well, maybe only with you. But only if you’re okay with it…” Jin rambles. His ears look close to emitting steam with how red they’re turning...you’re glad you’re not the only one being thrown off your game with how this date is going. It’s endearing how he switches so easily between being confident and shy depending on your reactions to him.

“C’mon, Jinnie...I think I owe you some ice cream, right?” you smile as you reach for his hand, leading him further along the trail you were walking along.

You walk along quietly for a bit, the silence only broken when Jin coos over dogs as you pass them. It warms your heart to see just how kind and soft he truly is...not what you expected from your previous experiences with a certain lead guitarist.

As you round a bend in the trail, Jin picks up the pace significantly, forcing you to speed walk to catch up. “Hey, where’s the fire?” you question, legs starting to burn as you attempt to keep pace.

“Huh? Oh sorry, the ice cream stand is just up here, I got excited.” He gestures ahead of the two of you with your intertwined hands. Sure enough, there’s a small ice cream stand a few paces away.

As you walk up, you see that the stand is manned by a kindly looking old woman who looks like she could be your grandmother. “Oh, you two are such a cute couple! How long have you been dating?” she asks.

“Oh, um...this is only our second date,” you answer, feeling slightly awkward.

“Could’ve fooled me! He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. What can I get you?” Jin coughs suddenly at the old woman’s observation, his ears reddening for the second time that night.

You look over to the menu propped up on the counter of the stand.

Vanilla

Chocolate

Strawberry

Mint Chocolate Chip

Cookies and Cream

“What do you say, Jinnie? Strawberry? Mint Chocolate Chip?”

“If I wanted to have mint flavored anything, I would have just brought my toothpaste with me...mint chocolate chip? How can you think so lowly of me?” he pouts at you, supremely offended that you even suggested such a thing.

“Okayyyyy...didn’t realize you were so picky about ice cream flavors. What do you want, then?” you roll your eyes at him, but not without grinning.

“I’ll take a vanilla cone, thankyouverymuch,” he replies grinning back at you.

“One vanilla cone, and one cookies and cream cone.” You hand the woman cash and she begins to fill your order. Soon after she is handing you both ice cream encased in freshly made waffle cones. You both thank her and continue your walk along the trail. You bite into the top of your ice cream, relishing the coolness in the warm evening that surrounds you.

“...you bite ice cream?” Jin is staring at you open-mouthed in horror.

“Yes? If I just licked it, it would all melt before I could eat it. Don’t judge me!” you glare over at Jin.

“Oh too late for that, sweetheart. First you asked if I wanted mint chocolate chip ice cream, and now I find out you bite your ice cream? What are you, a serial killer?” he raises an eyebrow at you questioningly.

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” you turn menacingly towards him, brandishing your cone like a weapon. “They call me...The Ice Cold Killer. Beware!”

“Ooo, I’m scared. Someone help me,” Jin chuckles, his empty hand raised in surrender as he takes a lick of his ice cream.

“You should be scared, handsome,” you continue walking towards him, raising your cone ever so slightly with each step.

“...what are you doing? Oh no, you don’t!” Just as you go to smush your cone into his face, he grabs both of your wrists. “I think not,” he grins, lowering your hands to the level of your waist.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you pout, looking up at Jin. When he’s this close, it seems like he’s towering over you...and as you make eye contact, you notice his attention keeps flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“Oh, I can be lots of fun,” he whispers lowly as he leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. Just as his lips start to ghost over your own, someone clears their throat behind you. You both spring apart, whipping around to see who’s interrupted you.

Tall, dressed in all black, tattoos scattered across both arms. A sneer on his face as he takes he two of you in with his gaze.

Namjoon.

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

“Well, well, well...how’s it going, Margot? How’d you end up in the middle of the park with this loser?” Namjoon asks. You have no clue why he’s here, and it feels like you’re suddenly trapped in a nightmare. Jin looks confused, glancing between the two of you, trying to figure out how you’re connected.

“Don’t think too hard, lover boy. I can see the steam coming out from your ears with how hard you’re thinking about this-Margot and I used to date.” Namjoon provides, still with that same smirk on his face. Jin’s eyes widen in understanding, but then narrow again as he processes the way he’s being talked to.

“It’s Seokjin, actually. What are you doing here, Kim? Didn’t Gold Rush beat your stupid band in our last exhibition?” Jin spits out harshly.

Namjoon doesn’t deign to give him a response, instead turning back to you. “Margot, really...this is who you went to after me? You know he has no talent, right? Yoongi writes all their songs, and Jungkook is the visual draw for their band. I expected better of you…” he chuckles. “But maybe not...you never did know what was best for you. You let me walk all over you, didn’t you?” he smirks.

Jin moves to reply, but you’re faster. “Yes, I did let you walk all over me and treat me like shit for entirely too long, Namjoon. Thank goodness I had people in my life that cared enough about me to open my eyes to how much of a giant ASSHOLE you were...and Jin? Jin has more talent in his pinky than you’ll have your whole career-I would know because I spent entirely too long going to your boring shows. Jin has treated me better in two dates than you ever have! And how’s this for knowing what’s best for me?”

You stride forward, ice cream cone in hand, until you’re directly in front of Namjoon. Eyes wild, you lift your cone and smash it into his chest. Cookie bits and ice cream smear into his shirt as your waffle cone shatters into pieces on the ground.

“You bitch!” Namjoon roars, rearing back, looking for all the world like he’s about to slap you. Before he can get very far, a large hand wraps tightly around his wrist.

“Leave. Now.” Jin is glaring darkly at Namjoon from behind you. As Namjoon starts to speak, Jin tightens his grip. “I said...leave.”

Namjoon jerks his hand out of Jin’s grip and rubs his wrist where the other man’s hand was. “Fine. You two deserve each other,” he glares as he marches away.

Once Namjoon is out of sight, Jin immediately turns to you. “Margot, are you okay?” he rests his hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes.

You’re frozen in place, still shocked at everything that just happened.

“...I just smashed an ice cream cone on Kim Namjoon…” you utter softly.

“Yes, you did. And it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, if I’m being honest.” Jin rubs the back of his neck sheepishly with one hand, chuckling.

His comment brings you back into the moment. “Everything that just happened, and that’s all you can think of?” you ask him in disbelief.

“Not all!” Jin retorts. “I have a lot of thoughts right now: 1. How did the two of you ever date? 2. Why am I not surprised that he’s a giant asshole? He always is the worst any time we play shows at the same venue. 3. Yeah, my third thought is that you standing your ground and giving him what he deserves is hot, so sue me.”

You laugh. “Three thoughts isn’t a lot of thoughts, but yes, we did date a while, biggest mistake of my life. I fell for the tortured, tattooed lead guitarist thing.”

“Should I get tattoos then? I mean, I thought I was handsome enough as is, but if this,” he gestures at himself, “isn’t enough, then I’m happy to oblige. Your name in a heart with an arrow through it? A skull with a snake around it? You say the word, beautiful, I’ll do it.” he smirks playfully at you.

“Be careful what you wish for, or you’ll end up with a tattoo on your ass,” you giggle as you elbow him.

His eyes widen in momentary fear. “I’m kidding, silly. Let’s go back to my place and watch a movie.”

The two of you walk hand in hand through the rest of the park, Jin passing you his ice cream cone to share since yours ended up destroyed.

“I guess you really are The Ice Cold Killer...of ice cream cones, that is,” he remarks as you walk through the exit and head back to your apartment.

“I told you you should be scared.”

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

You both sink down into your couch once you arrive at your apartment, Jin placing a blanket over the two of you.

“So, what’s the feature presentation this evening?” he queries, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Moulin Rouge!” you happily reply to his chagrin.

“...isn’t that a musical?” he asks, to which you nod in the affirmative.

“Is that a problem?” You knew that musicals were another one of your tests for the guys you dated. You did honestly enjoy them, but you needed to know if the men you dated would put up with them.

“Nope. I mean, I don’t think I would pick one, but I said it’s your choice. Plus, you’re the one who destroyed a douchebag tonight, so your pick is definitely earned.” He settles back into the couch as the movie starts to play, and you place your head on his shoulder. It fits perfectly into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his laundry detergent mixed with the park you just walked through is extremely comforting. So comforting in fact, you can feel your eyelids getting heavy about a third of the way through the movie.

The lack of background noise is what slowly wakes you up...the movie must be over. When did you fall asleep? You lift your head off of Jin’s shoulder, only to see he has remnants of tears on his face.

“Jinnie? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, quickly swiping at his face to remove any lingering evidence of his tears. “I...I cried at the end of the movie, that’s all. Satine died! Musicals are supposed to be happy-I’m appalled!”

Your heart feels like it’s blooming with all the warmth that’s spreading through your chest as you look at the man beside you. As you begin to say something in response, your eyes catch the digital clock blinking from your microwave across the room. 12:30AM.

“Oh, it’s late...do you want to stay over so you don’t have to go across town at this time? The busses stop running soon anyway.” Jin’s eyes grow wide at your question.

“N-Not like that! I meant to sleep, just sleep. Only if you want to!” You bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.

Jin reaches out and removes your hands from your face, tilting your chin up with his finger so you make eye contact with him.

“I’d love to,” he smiles softly at you, his hand remaining on your chin, pulling you slowly closer to him as he moves closer to you as well. Your faces are inches apart again, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Is this okay?” he breathes.

You grab the sides of his face in response, crushing your lips to his. He is impossibly soft, and warm. His hands wrap around your back again, tenderly bringing you as close as he can to himself. He’s holding you as if you are tethering him to Earth, like you are what hung the stars in the sky. You sigh into the kiss, and he takes that as a cue to deepen the kiss further. He’s more insistent, holding you tighter. Before it can get too heated, you break apart for air.

“Sorry I got a little carried away,” he chuckles, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You laugh as you clearly get a look at his face.

“What?” he pouts at you.

“Come here.” You stand up, pulling him with you to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. You flip the light on, positioning him in front of the mirror. As both of your eyes adjust to the extra light, his widen impossibly-he’s got pink lipstick messily smeared around his mouth from kissing you.

“So much for world wide handsome, huh?” you laugh.

He turns towards you. “I’ll have you know, I am handsome no matter what I look like!” he huffs indignantly. Nevertheless, he turns the faucet on and starts to wipe away the makeup.

You leave him to get ready for bed in the bathroom while you trudge to your closet to find something to change into, settling for an oversized tee with shorts. As you close the door behind you, Jin leaves the bathroom in only his boxers. Your eyes become wide as saucers as you notice his lack of clothing in addition to how in shape he is.

“Oh, um...sorry, I usually just sleep in these. I can put my shirt back on if I need to?” he questions shyly.

“No, you’re fine, I just don’t normally have half naked men walking around my apartment,” you laugh quietly.

Jin climbs into your bed and starts to scroll through his phone as you head into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed yourself. You climb in beside him ten minutes later, turning your lamp off and staring up at the ceiling...you’re not sure exactly how this is supposed to go. You’re not in a relationship, but you’re in the same bed, and he had seen you completely lose your cool on your ex. What was even appropriate in this situation?

After what feels like an indeterminate amount of silence, Jin speaks into the dark.

“So...what exactly happened with you and Namjoon?” he sounds nervous, his voice much quieter than normal.

You sigh. “We met after one of his shows. He was charming at first, but then he started making everything about him and his band. Then he cheated on me. Three times. Gaslit me when I tried to talk to him about it. Long story short, it was a bad time,” you grimace, even though you know Jin can’t see you.

“...come here.”

You’re surprised that this is his response, but you comply by scooting next to him. He wraps an arm around you and squeezes tightly.

“You know I would never do any of those things, right?” He looks down at you with such warmth in his eyes, you can’t help but fold even further into him, your head on his bare chest.

“...I know,” you whisper, body still tense from talking about your ex. Jin traces shapes onto your back, helping you slow your breathing and relax.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, Jin’s voice vibrates through his chest beneath you.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend is The Ice Cold Killer…” His own statement amuses him so much, his squeaky windshield wiper laugh makes an appearance.

“Hey! Who said anything about me being your girlfriend?” You prop yourself up enough to look him in the eyes.

“Oh please, if you thought after tonight I wouldn’t try to take you off the market, you are sorely mistaken...you’re perfect, pretty lady.” He smiles at you, faltering once he sees you raise your eyebrows at him.

“...only if you want to be my girlfriend, of course,” he adds softly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m not perfect,” you state simply, lowering yourself back down onto his chest. Namjoon had made sure you knew that much.

“You’re perfect to me.” Jin leans down to place a tender kiss on top of your head.

You look back up at him. “You know you’re going to have to be one of my henchmen now, right? The Ice Cold Killer can’t do everything on her own.”

“Oh, I know. I plan on starting henchman duties in the morning when I make us pancakes, love.” Jin smiles softly down at you as you attempt to snuggle even closer.

It’s only the second date...but Jin feels like home. Maybe you’ll survive this relationship after all.

[riversofmars]

Love Is Begun By Time

So this is sort of my contribution to Pride Month... two wlw couples breaking out of the Tower of London to steal a jewel from Queen Elizabeth I. River/13 and Liv/Helen! 

Featuring: 

endless River/13 banter and healthy relationship

Liv being a gay mess 

River flirting with EVERYONE 

Helen being cute, clueless and working through the prejudice of the time she grew up in 

aliens in Elizabethan London 

BAMF River Song 

Shakespeare quotes

Eight being a clueless himbo

Anyway! Happy Pride!

Love Is Begun By Time

“Any bright ideas?“ Helen Sinclair shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable but no matter how she tried, she didn’t seem to be able to. The heavy iron chains that kept her fixed to the wall left her with little wiggle room.

“Nothing springs to mind…“ Liv Chenka looked around the dirty dungeon cell. The stone wall behind her was cold and hard against her back, the ground was wet and grimy; the straw did little in the way of cushioning. The metal of the chains had started digging into her wrists and were rubbing her skin red and raw. She’d just about had it with being locked up. “This is usually when the Doctor turns up to save the day…“ She groaned, annoyed at the situation they found themselves in. Liv had always been partial to trips to her ancestral home-world but since getting locked up in the Tower of London pending execution, she had quickly fallen out of love with Elizabethan England.

They had lost track of how long they had been imprisoned for as there was very little natural light. All Liv knew for sure was that she was getting hungry. As she considered the hopelessness of their situation, she glanced to Helen in the twilight. She was huffing and puffing, trying to get comfortable and Liv smiled a little, despite it all. She was glad that she wasn’t alone. If she was to choose someone to be locked up with, it would be Helen Sinclair. Liv’s thoughts on how lovely her best friend looked in period dress were interrupted when she heard distant voices.

“Can you hear that?“ The med-tech looked up and listened out. The walls of the dungeon were thick but she was sure someone was heading their way.

“Voices?“ Helen listened up as well. “Maybe someone is coming to get us, maybe it’s the Doctor! Hello?!“ She called out but there was no response. There were, however, voices in the corridor and they were getting close enough to make out.

“You just had to do that, didn’t you, you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself!“ The first voice was female, distinctly Northern and obviously deeply annoyed.

“Well, how is one to keep one’s hands at one’s sides when one is pressed to one’s wife in a broom closet.“ The other voice - also female and oddly familiar - seemed to be taking the whole thing far less seriously.

“That voice…“ Helen had noticed it too and they exchanged confused glances. It was incredibly familiar but neither of them could quite place it, not yet anyway.

“We were hiding!“ The Northern woman snapped, still getting closer, and the response came promptly:

“You needn’t have squeaked like that!“

“You could have given me some heads up before jumping right in.“

“What can I say, sometimes foreplay seems like wasted effort.“ The exchange was quick, witty and effortless. Whoever they were, they knew each other very well and knew how to press each other’s buttons.

Liv raised her eyebrows at the statement, trying not to chuckle. She spotted the expression on Helen’s face, noticing a faint blush at the impropriety the words insinuated, and in Elizabethan times no less!  

“We’ve been married for thousands of years, you still need warning?“ The familiar voice teased.

“Well, this body is different…“ The heavy wooden door opened and a blonde woman came into view. Her hair fell in a short bob, her clothes were a colourful ensemble that did not match the local trends of fashion and her bright eyes were firmly fixed on the woman beside her who smirked:

“Yes, I have noticed.“

Liv and Helen gasped in surprise as they recognised none other than Professor River Song, time travelling archeologist and wife to their best friend! She was lead into the cell alongside the blonde and appeared to be teasing her with great enthusiasm.

“Shut up, the two of you!“ The guard that was accompanying them snapped. He had clearly heard enough of their bickering along the way. “Get in there.“ He gave them both a shove.

“Alright, alright, no need to be like that.“ The blonde rolled her eyes.

“Now, really that’s no way to treat a lady.“ River feigned outrage. She straightened out the era appropriate dress she was wearing - much like Liv and Helen themselves. She looks fantastic in a corset. The unbidden thought struck Liv like a punch in the gut. She forced her eyes away and focused on the other woman instead. Her long coat, rainbow t-shirt and odd three-quarter length trousers were certainly not of the time; the only logical deduction was that she was a time traveller, too. Perhaps they had just found their way out of their awkward situation.  

“You will hang in the morning for attempting to steal the Queen’s jewel.“ The guard snapped, glaring at the two women who seemed remarkably unfazed at the prospect of their impending execution.

“Not to mention the indecent behaviour, right?“ River called after him but he didn’t respond, he just threw the door shut.

“River?“ Helen spoke up first and the two new arrivals looked around, surprised. They had been too caught up in their conversation to notice the two women chained to the wall.

“Liv? Helen?“ It was the blonde that spoke first and they looked at her in surprise. How does she know our names? Liv wondered. Had they, perhaps, come to save them? Or maybe she was someone from their future? Maybe they just hadn’t met yet. She didn’t have an opportunity to continue the thought process as River demanded their attention:

“Hello girls!“ A wide grin spread across the professor’s face. “Fancy seeing you here!“ She turned to the woman at her side: “Don’t tell me you’ve done this before.“

“I don’t remember it.“ The other woman shook her head slowly. “But of course, must be because of the time lines crossing.“ She exclaimed, as if the penny dropped. “Come here you two!“ She skipped over and threw herself at them for tight hugs that they couldn’t evade in their tied up state.

“Do we… know you?“ Liv frowned pulling away as much as she could manage. It wasn’t that she disliked a hug from a pretty girl, she just usually preferred introductions first.

“Oh right, the body, uh…“ The blonde straightened herself up, confused for a moment, she looked to River for help who started laughing.

“This is the Doctor.“ River gestured to the blonde who gave a sheepish grin.

“No…“ Helen’s eyes widened in shock.

“Really?“ Liv was just as dumbfounded.

“What can I say, regeneration is a lottery.“ The Doctor grinned and took a little twirl that was so very much like the Doctor they knew.

“And you hit the jackpot this time around.“ River smirked as she regarded her wife’s backside while the Doctor faced her friends again.

“I’ll say…“ Liv found herself saying before she could think better of it.

“So you two are still…“ Helen looked to River, seemingly confused.

“Thirteenth honeymoon, if you will.“ River grinned.

“Right…“ The language scholar managed a smile that wasn’t quite comfortable and it made Liv’s heart sink. Of course. Helen, despite all the wonderful adventures they had been on and all the extraordinary things they had seen, was still a woman of her time, Liv realised. Born 1933. It wasn’t usually noticeable. She took scientific advancement and alien life in her stride but every now and then, a little bit of her upbringing, the time she was raised in, shone through.

Liv rarely thought about their different backgrounds, in most things they were so very much alike; but still occasionally, the awareness of it painfully push itself to the forefront of Liv’s mind. Usually when she considered how the light reflected in Helen’s bright, intelligent eyes or how much she missed her when she wasn’t right there by her side. The awareness remained like a wall, in insurmountable obstacle, that Liv never dared approach. It was what always kept her hand firmly by her side, rather than slipping into the one well within reach.

“Thirteenth?“ Liv forced herself out of her painful thoughts and instead marvelled at how different that Doctor was to the one they were travelling with. She had seen them change before and learned how one person could wear different faces, but that was quite a change indeed.

“Long time into my future - your future - however you want to look at it.“ The Doctor seemed to appreciate that it was a lot to take in.

“I’m going to need some time to process this…“ Helen laughed lightly, seemingly over the initial shock.

“Maybe you could get us out of these chains in the meantime?“ Liv suggested as her right hand was falling asleep and her wrists stung.

“Well, Ms. Chenka, in my experience there is a lot of fun to be had with restraints.“ River gave her a wink and Liv rolled her eyes. Did River Song have any other modi operandi apart from witty seductress and deadly assassin?

“Very funny.“ The med-tech huffed, hoping the little bit of pink that snuck onto her cheeks didn’t show in the dark of the cell. She wasn’t even necessarily attracted to River, but there probably wasn’t a person alive in this universe - no matter their race, gender or sexual orientation - that was immune to River Song’s charm. She hoped Helen hadn’t noticed.

“Yes chains, right, then we find a way out of here. Not really in the mood for a hanging.“ The Doctor ignored the little exchanged, clearly not phased by her wife’s flirting, and pulled her sonic screwdriver from her coat.

“Oh you know, some executions can be quite entertaining or even enjoyable affairs, there is this little planet just off the Orion belt where…“ River started but for once, the Doctor dared to interrupt her.

“I don’t think they care right now, River.“ She crouched down and sonic-ed the restraints until they fell away. “There you go.“ She smiled satisfied as Liv and Helen shook off the rest of the chains.

“Much better, thanks.“ Helen smiled, rubbing her aching joints.

“So what did you two do to get banged up in here? Were you having a bit too much fun in the broom closet as well?“ River smirked as they clambered to their feet and brushed off the dirt.

“Sorry?“ Helen looked over to her, visibly confused.

“River.“ The Doctor gave her wife’s arm a little slap.

“What?“ River looked back to the Doctor, confused, apparently wondering what she had done wrong. She then looked back to Liv and Helen, sizing them up. Liv averted her eyes while Helen just looked utterly confused. “You don’t mean to tell me, after all this time, you still haven’t…“

“I think that’s quite enough of that, River, dear.“ The Doctor grabbed River’s hand and pulled her along to the door. “Let’s see if we can’t get us all out of here before past me turns up and this gets really complicated, hm?“

“Now there is a fun idea, you had such luscious hair back then too…“ River reminisced, brushing her hand through her blonde bob while the Doctor attempted to sonic the door.

“Wood, damn it.“ The Doctor groaned in annoyance.

“You would have thought after all this time, it would do wood.“ River sighed theatrically.

“Wise arse…“ The Doctor huffed as she crouched down to examine the lock more closely.

“So what were you up to, my favourite girls?“ River turned back to the other two women who were watching their interactions with fascination. They knew River was the Doctor’s wife, she had told them as much, but she had also told them that their Doctor couldn’t know about it yet. Therefore, they had never actually seen them interact as lovers might. Looking at River with that version of the Doctor, they could picture it. The Doctor really hadn’t changed all that much.

“We were searching for an artefact…“ Helen started and looked to Liv to help her out.

“Alien technology that has been given to Queen Elizabeth as a gift and it’s been influencing her, she’s been commissioning these towers that the Doctor reckons the aliens will use to create a… oh God knows what, the Doctor will have to explain.“ Liv shrugged. They had been detained rather early on in their attempt to sneak into the palace, so they had very little to go on.

“Yes, that’s what we’ve been looking for, too.“ The Doctor exclaimed excitedly.

“We were having a lovely honeymoon, actually.“ River interjected. “The theatre, you know. Shakespeare? Live? You just had to check this out.“

“Well, I didn’t remember that it was all in hand already, did I.“ The Doctor retorted.

“So do you know where the artefact is?“ Liv asked, hoping there would be an easy solution to the whole mess.

“We would have had it by now if someone could have held their nerve.“ River pursed her lips.

“You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.“ The Doctor glared at her wife.

“Can you honestly blame me?“ River smirked giving a little shrug.

“I can’t… blame you, I mean.“ Liv found herself saying, looking the Doctor up and down.

“Thank you very much.“ River gave the med-tech a winning smile and proceeded to stick her tongue out at her wife who just rolled her eyes.

“Liv?“ Helen raised her eyebrows questioningly at her friend who was still in a world of her own when the Doctor bent over again and continued to examine the lock.

“Hm? What?“ Liv blinked, looking back to Helen who seemed rather incredulous.

“That’s the Doctor!“ She pointed out, her voice somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Yeah but… not really… I mean…“ Liv began to stutter. “Past him, good God no, but… I mean…“

“Right…“ Helen’s eyes widened in surprise and Liv silently scolded herself.

That went very badly for so many reasons, Liv realised. She didn’t mean to look like she was checking out their best friend, just because they had changed bodies. She didn’t mean to make Helen uncomfortable by flaunting interest in a pretty girl. And most importantly, she didn’t want Helen thinking she was interested in the Doctor or anyone else for that matter. Anyone else except for Helen herself, of course; but that she couldn’t say.

River, apparently, could tell that Liv was getting very uncomfortable, so she decided to move things along.

“Anyway, where were we.. trying to break out? Step aside dear.“ She gently pushed her wife aside so she could have a look at the lock herself. She pulled something that looked an awful lot like a swiss army knife from somewhere within her dress.

“You okay, Helen?“ The Doctor noticed that Helen had gone rather quiet and contemplative.

“Yeah fine, I…“ The language scholar managed a smile.

“There we are.“ River announced triumphantly and gave the door a gentle nudge, swinging it open.

“You really are good, aren’t you.“ Liv chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief.  

“I’m not sure good is the right word.“ Helen laughed a little as well.

“Better not be.“ River smirked and hid the knife somewhere around the edges of her cleavage. “Come along, girls.“ She stuck her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear. The corridor was indeed empty and confidently, River and the Doctor lead the way. Liv and Helen followed slightly more cautiously.

“So… the Doctor…“ Helen said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“What?“ Liv looked around to her, confused.

“You said you couldn’t blame River…“ Helen observed, mulling over what she had said.

“Helen…“ Liv felt her throat close up. Of course she had got the wrong end of the stick, but how to explain without making the situation worse?

“No, I mean, I uh…“ Helen seemingly was struggling to find the right words as well, so Liv hastily tried to justify herself:

“I didn’t mean I wanted to… I mean, she’s the Doctor. Plus, she’s with the Professor, so…“ She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. She hadn’t meant it like that at all.

“But if she wasn’t, you’d…“ Helen looked ahead to where the Doctor and River were standing to either side of a door and glancing into the next corridor; a perfect team, so in tune with each other.

“Why are we talking about this?“ Liv asked gently. She so badly wanted to reach for her arm or her shoulder, create some physical contact, but she didn’t.

“No, I mean… I just didn’t realise you had these feelings…“ Helen huffed, her tone incredibly difficult to pick apart.

“I don’t! Not for the Doctor.“ Liv grabbed Helen’s arm and stopped her. She couldn’t leave her in that belief.

“But you said…“ Helen didn’t look at her, she adverted her eyes, looking up ahead to make sure they didn’t lose track of River and the Doctor.

“She’s pretty, that’s all. That was all I was saying, nothing else. I don’t want to and never would and… this is the Doctor we’re talking about!“ Liv insisted firmly, she would have shouted for emphasis if they weren’t currently on the run, breaking out of prison. Her tone must have been a lot sharper than she realised, as Helen stared at her shocked. Quickly, Liv let go of her arm. “Besides, it’s not just about that, is it.“ She mumbled, somewhat apologetical about her outburst. “To be… interested… in someone like that, there has to be an awful lot there. Like trust. Mutual interests. Shared values. Time… spending time with that person, getting to know them, making memories together and experiences and…“ She broke off. “I just mean, a pretty face isn’t everything.“ She shrugged and started walking again, partly because she reasoned that they should keep up with the others, partly because she wanted to put an end to the conversation.

“But you’d… like a pretty pace? More than, say, someone like our Doctor…?“ Helen asked after a few moments of silence between them.

“You mean a man?“ Liv retorted without looking at her. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“Uhh… yeah… I guess that’s what I mean…“ Helen mumbled, not looking to her either.

“I really don’t care, Helen.“ Liv sighed, defeated. She actually laughed a little at how absurd the conversation was from her point of view. Humanity had moved past that a long long time ago and she couldn't believe that her beautiful, clever friend hadn’t come to the same realisation yet. “When you like someone it’s not for their gender, you like the person, wouldn’t you say?“ Liv asked, looking over to her at last.

“I’d never… really thought about it, I guess…“ Helen replied, her voice soft.

“That’s just your time, the way you were raised, it’s… you can’t help it…“ Liv shook her head, she couldn’t even blame her. She was born in a different world and it would take time to unlearn what society had drummed into her for most of her life. Far flung adventures in impossible worlds just weren’t enough. It would take time, like all things. Love is begun by time… Liv thought, Shakespeare making an unbidden appearance in her troubled mind. Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it. She wondered if that spark would ever be allowed to turn to a blaze. A steady, hungry fire had been burning inside her for so long already; and perhaps Helen would douse it in cold water at last.

“Seems so silly now, looking back…“ Helen spoke to herself more than anything else but took Liv by surprise nonetheless. “After everything I’ve seen, the places we’ve been too, the futures we’ve experienced…“ She shook her head to herself. “I guess I still haven’t quite caught up with everything yet…“

“It does seem silly…“ Liv didn’t know what else to say but she felt a sense of relief at Helen’s thought process on the matter. Her friend was intelligent, inquisitive and considerate. She reflected on things and didn’t just take them for granted. She questioned and prodded, more than able to make up her own mind. Maybe she just had never had reason to reevaluate her feelings on the matter and Liv felt a sting for knowing she herself hadn’t been reason enough to do just that. But then, perhaps, she had never dared to give her a proper reason to, either.  

“Shush, you two, or we will be back in the tower in a minute…“ River pressed her finger’s to Liv’s lips as they came to an abrupt halt and she nearly bumped into her.

“Guards?“ Helen whispered as Liv was too dumbfounded to utter anything with River Song’s slender finger pressed to her lips.

“I’m going to create a distraction, you guys go ahead and I’ll meet you by the exit.“ The Doctor spoke quietly. She glanced around the corner. There were four guards heading their way. “Where did I say I went? Where was I when you were detained?“ She turned back to her former companions.

“You were taken to the Queen, apparently she had been looking for you everywhere.“ Liv answered slowly, recalling the series of events that had brought them there.

“Ahh, yes… Lizzie…“ The Doctor couldn’t help a little smirk.

“Virgin Queen no longer, naughty naughty, good job I’m not the jealous type.“ River wagged her finger at her wife who gave an innocent shrug and sheepish grin. “She’s not the jealous type, either, just for the record.“ River gave Helen a wink who had no idea what to do with that. River Song’s constant flirting and innuendo was a lot to handle. She flushed a little, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Liv who felt a wave of jealousy knocking her slightly. She had no right to be jealous, did she? River just had that effect on people.

“So what would the Queen want with the Doctor?“ Liv tired to focus her mind on something else.

“I may have married her… previous me… future me, from your point of view…“ The Doctor waved it off as unimportant.

“Seriously?“ Helen exclaimed and all of them shushed her.

“Anyway, that will keep the Queen preoccupied, won’t it. Plenty of time for us to steal into the palace and get the artefact.“ The Doctor whispered with some urgency. The guards would be getting close. “Let’s get out of here, my TARDIS is parked just at either side of the Houses of Parliament.“ There were nods all round. “So about that distraction…“ She turned back, reached for her sonic and realised that River had suddenly disappeared. Then there were muffled cries, groans, sounds of something knocking into the wall, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor.

“Let’s get going, dear, we haven’t got all day.“ River called to them, signalling that the coast was clear.

“Why do our honeymoons always end like this?“ The Doctor huffed as they stepped out onto the corridor where River had struck down four fully grown men without so much as ruffling a hair on her impressive head of curls.

“Because you really like it when I strut my stuff, Sweetie.“ River winked at her wife who did seem a little tighter wound than a moment before. “You know I can have you on your back even quicker than that.“

“Promises, promises.“ The Doctor mumbled but the pink on her cheeks betrayed her feelings on the matter.

“Does the flirting ever stop?“ Liv felt a little hot under the collar as well. There certainly was something incredibly attractive about a woman that could handle herself like that.

“Not as long as it makes her blush like that.“ River smirked proud of the effect she had on her wife.

“Is this what you two are usually like?“ Helen asked. She seemed intrigued to know how River would have been with their Doctor, given half a chance.

“Your Doctor didn’t know who I was yet and couldn’t know, so you can’t really compare it. Doesn’t mean I love him any less.“ River answered, seemingly knowing full well where she was going with it.

“Maybe a little bit less?“ The Doctor interjected and River shook her head, laughing:

“I love all my spouses equally.“ She slipped her hand into the Doctor’s before she could start sulking. “Now come along, we haven’t got all day!“

“Wow…“ Was all Helen and Liv could manage as they stepped into the Doctor’s TARDIS.

“You redecorated.“ Helen observed and the Doctor grinned:

“You like it?“ She asked as she marched up to the console and set coordinates. “Just a quick hop…“ She pushed down a lever. “And we’re in the gardens of Richmond Palace.“

“You seem to have gotten better at flying her.“ Liv commented as they stepped outside and were exactly where she had intended for them to go.

“Don’t let appearances fool you, Ms. Chenka.“ River hummed in amusement.

“Right, where are we going?“ Helen asked before the Doctor could launch into a defence of her flying.

“I’m keeping the Queen busy so we just need to evade the guards and find the artefact, destroy it, and be on our way, easy, no?“ The Doctor put her hands on her hips, looking around for confirmation.

“If we knew where the artefact was and what it looked like.“ Liv sighed. They had gotten as far as that last time, with their Doctor.

“Way ahead of you.“ River smiled and pulled a scanner from somewhere in her dress. What else does she keep in there, Liv wondered. “Looks like it’s in the private vault… at least that’t not the private chambers.“ River mused, holding out the scanner for everyone to see. There was a red dot pulsating not too far away from them.

“Now, that would be awkward…“ The Doctor admitted.

“You guys better stay here.“ River turned to Liv and Helen

“What? You’re leaving us behind?“ Helen protested, incredulous.

“I’d leave her behind too but she gets offended.“ River nodded towards her wife.

“River!“ The Doctor huffed.

“Oh, alright then, all come along, just don’t moan if we end up back in the tower again cause you got us caught.“ River sighed, giving in.

River was quick to find a window on the ground floor that was easily opened with the help of her sonic trowel - another item she just happened to have on her person - and they climbed inside. The corridor was empty and there were no alarm systems to consider in Elizabethan times.

“This way…“ River indicated, following her scanner.

They snuck through corridors and glamorous rooms, each sitting room more luscious than the next, until finally, they came to a room full of display cases.

“There it is.“ The Doctor whispered and pointed to the far end of the room. A large jewel sat upon a red cushion, guards stood either side of it.

“Allow me…“ River was about to make a dash for it when suddenly a large tentacle shot out of the darkness and knocked all of them over, like bowling pins. Despite the racket, the guards in the room up ahead didn’t even blink, they seemed to be under the influence of the jewel.

“Bloody hell…“ Liv groaned, dazed for a moment after hitting her head.

“Are you okay, you knocked your head pretty badly…“ Helen seemed to have fared better, she was quick to lean over her and brush her hair back. Liv’s struggle to think clearly was not due to head injury but rather the way Helen pulled her up and held her close.

“I thought I was the med-tech around here…“ She managed a half-hearted joke but got lost in Helen’s bright eyes. The concern she found there made her heart beat a little faster.

“You’re not from around here…“ A deep voice hummed demanding their attention. A creature the size of a small van stepped from the shadows. Stepped was probably the wrong word for it. It slid, as it resembled a slug. A slug that had been crossed with an octopus, as long tentacles hung at its sides. It accessed the group with beady, black eyes while they clambered to their feet.

“And neither are you.“ The Doctor squared her jaw, holding her sonic out like a weapon. Protectively, she stepped in front of her friends. “You do realise this is a level five planet, don’t you?“

“This planet is not important.“ The creature declared with a guttural sound that resembled a laugh.

“Oh, I beg to differ and you have made a very big mistake by choosing it.“ The Doctor retorted firmly.

“The one that’s made a mistake is you, by coming here. This world will soon be ours.“ The alien seemed unimpressed by her declaration and slid forward. Behind it, guards appeared and advanced towards them as well. The Doctor and River exchanged glances, as did Helen and Liv, weighing their options.

“No, it won’t. Not once we’ve destroyed the jewel you’re using to exert control over these people.“ The Doctor stated but retreated a little as the guards came closer. Their eyes were blank, they looked into nothingness but moved ahead regardless.

“Their minds are weak.“ The alien laughed again.

“And you’re ugly but I wasn’t gonna mention it.“ The Doctor snapped. “Now, you have a choice. You either leave this planet and spare yourself the humiliation of us kicking you out, or we make you.“ She did her best to sound threatening.

“You and what army?“ The creature tilted its barely distinguishable head.

“I don’t need an army, I’m the Doctor.“ The Doctor declared and she halted her retreat. Time to stand tall and firm.

“You’re the Doctor?“ The alien echoed.

“Heard of me then? Good! That should give you reason to run.“ The Doctor grinned.

“Doctor who?“ The alien asked and the Doctor’s face fell with annoyance.

“Well, that’s a bit disappointing, never mind, but that means you probably won’t know my lovely wife either. Professor River Song, top-notch archeologist, great hair and one hell of a marksman… woman… Anyway, I digress, point is, she’s a great shot, and while you've been listening to me singing her praises, she’d taken aim at your jewel and any second now, she’ll…“

A shot rang out and the sound of splintering glass was ear piercingly sharp.

“NO!“ The alien wailed as the guards collapsed where they were marching. Gone was their puppet master’s influence and it left them spent and unconscious.

“Never give her the opportunity to talk.“ River pointed her gun at the alien. Another thing she just happened to have pulled out of her dress. Or was it from under it? Liv found herself swallowing hard at the thought of River having strapped a gun holster to her thigh… Either way, she had shot the jewel at a great distance, through two windows and an open door. And it had only taken her one attempt.

“You will pay for this!“ The creature screeched and lashed out with its tentacles that suddenly grew sharp thorns.

“Oh no, you don’t!“ The Doctor sonic-ed a chandelier above its head that came crashing down while River delivered three quick shorts, two at tentacles, the third right in the head. It was, however, Liv that reacted the quickest.

“Helen!“ She pulled her friend around, out of the way of the one tentacle that made it past River. She knocked her to the ground just in time and River quickly shoot the tentacle for good measure, even after the creature lay motionless.

“Let’s get out of here before actual guards arrive, come on!“ The Doctor didn’t give them time to recover, she pulled her friends up and pushed them alone the corridor as voices approached.

“You saved me.“ Helen seemed thoroughly out of breath when they finally reached the safety of the shore of the Themes. She looked to Liv would was just as exhausted and leaned against the balustrade to catch her breath.

“Well, couldn’t just let it get you, could I, not after all that time the Doctor and I have spent on getting you back…“ Liv huffed, trying to downplay how terrifying the thought of losing Helen really was. She had been in that situation, not knowing whether she was dead or alive, if she would ever see her again, and she couldn’t risk losing her again.

“Right… he probably wouldn’t have been best pleased if he’d have to find an antidote to some weird disease or God knows what that thing would have done…“ Helen mumbled.

“Exactly…“ Liv brushed her hair back awkwardly.

“You know, you two are really painful to watch!“ River interrupted, her voice full of frustration.

“What?“ The two of them looked up simultaneously to find River scowling at them, placing her hands on her hips, seemingly about to give a lecture.

“Right, I’m not telling you what to do but come on!“ The professor exclaimed exasperated. “Liv! Just take the plunge, okay?“

Liv blushed deeply. Was she that easy to read? To River Song, apparently so.

“I think I’ve had enough of London for the time being.“ The Doctor interrupted, deliberately intervening to give her friends an out should they need it. They didn’t look ready to have that conversation. “We can catch Shakespeare another time. Tropical beach next?“ She looked to River who rolled her eyes at her interruption.

“Wait, what about the Doctor, our Doctor?“ Helen suddenly realised.

“He’ll get himself out of that situation.“ The Doctor waved off her concern. “Might just take a little while. Maybe don’t wait up…“ She winked.

“So you do remember it! You said you didn’t!“ River exclaimed somewhere between affronted and amused.

“Only vaguely, time lines and all…“ The Doctor tried to play it off but her wife wasn’t having it:

“You just didn’t want to tell me what the sex was like!“ River retorted.

“I thought you weren’t jealous!“ The Doctor laughed.

“I’m not jealous, I’m curious! The virgin queen, I mean, there’s a story there, isn’t there!“ River insisted with a mischievous grin. “Besides… I’m taking you home tonight and that’s what counts.“ She grabbed hold of her chin and placed a firm kiss on her slightly parted lips. The Doctor chuckled and kissed her back. Nothing quite like a kiss from her wife at the end of an adventure, so it seemed. Liv couldn’t deny she quite enjoyed seeing them kiss, though there was a twinge of jealously as well. It wasn’t directed at either one of them but at the station in itself. She looked to Helen, more longingly than she probably should have, but the language scholar didn’t noticed as she just cleared her throat:

“Are you just going to leave us now?“ She asked as River and the Doctor pulled apart and looked back to them, somewhat sheepishly, almost as if they had already forgotten they were there.

“We’ll see you guys around, places to go, people to see, marriages to consummate.“ River smirked with a little wave of her free hand, the other pulling her wife close to her side. She regarded each of them with an affectionate smile. “Hope to see you again soon.“

“Until next time, my dear friends. I miss going on adventures with you…“ The Doctor smiled as well, fondly, in a reminiscent sort of way. “Be good to yourselves.“

“And you, Doctor.“ Liv mirrored her warm expression. “Till next time, Professor.“

“Enjoy the rest of your honeymoon.“ Helen smiled. “Have fun.“

“You too!“ River grinned and pulled something from her corset. Because why wouldn’t she. “Here, in case the Doctor is a while yet.“ She threw something towards them and Liv caught it rather clumsily.

“What’s that?“ Helen asked and Liv opened her hand to reveal a key.

“Key’s to the honeymoon suite we were staying in. That lovely pub right across from the Globe, maybe you can go and catch a show and crash there. Won’t be needing it now.“ River grinned and turned to leave.

“Liv?“ The Doctor demanded her friend’s attention one last time, making River wait a moment longer.

“Yes?“ The med-tech looked up from the key.

“I think you’ve both waited long enough. Perspectives do change.“ The Doctor smiled encouragingly, waving a final goodbye. Then she took her wife’s hand and they made their way along the shore of the river, taking the long way around back to the TARDIS.

“What did she mean by that?“ Helen asked curiously once they were out of earshot. She turned towards her and seemed to assume that she knew exactly what the Doctor meant.

“What she means is… I need to stop being such a coward.“ Liv mumbled, taking a deep breath. How to even start? The pressure was unbearable as she considered what she stood to lose if she was wrong, but the thought of what she could gain was ever so tempting. Particularly when Helen reached out, took her hands into hers, gave them a firm, reassuring squeeze.

“You’re one of the bravest people I know!“ She insisted, full of determination and Liv could tell that she meant it.

“Not always, not when it comes to this…“ Liv sighed, averting her eyes.

“To what?“ Helen retorted, puzzled. She wasn’t making any sense to her and Liv couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t get coherent words out. “Liv, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?“ Helen raised her hand and pushed it under Liv’s chin, forcing her to meet her eyes.

Liv decided that she couldn't delay any longer. She had to do it. Maybe it was obvious to everyone but Helen who just didn’t expect it, didn’t know how to read the signs or what to do with them. Maybe it was a stupid idea but the Doctor and River seemed to think it wasn’t. Maybe they had foreknowledge they did not. They were from the future after all. Liv decided to trust them, to take the leap of faith and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her best friend’s lips.

It was like a still moment. One of those special spots in space and time that the Doctor might speak of, where everything was fixed, everything was just the way it was supposed to be and always would be. A still point in time. Liv pulled back slowly and searched Helen’s eyes, full of surprise and confusion.

“I like you, Helen. More than I think you realise or know what to do with.“ Liv whispered, unsure how to put an attraction, an affection, an adoration and admiration into words that wouldn’t scare her away and bare the heavy burden a declaration of love.

“Oh…“ Helen’s voice was soft.

“It’s uh…“ Liv started to panic when she didn’t say anything beyond that. No response. Not one way or another, just Oh. “I’m sorry.“ Heat rushed to her cheeks and she quickly let go of Helen’s hands. She took a fearful step back. She realised she had messed up. “That was stupid… forget I even, I mean… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if you’re just not… that’s fine, you’re my friend, I don’t want to jeopardise that and…“ She started rambling excuses. She wished she could go back to before, her friendship with Helen meant everything to her. If that was all it was ever going to be, she could content herself with that, she could make her peace with it, but she couldn’t lose her.

“Liv…“ Helen held up her hands trying to calm her. “Liv, stop!“ She took a step towards her and grabbed her wildly gesticulating hands again. “Please listen…“ Liv stopped, Helen’s hands in hers pulling her back to the present, demanding her full attention. She remained quiet for a moment and just looked at Helen who ran her thumbs over the back of her hands, holding them tightly as if she was worried she would run off.

“Yes?“ Liv asked slowly, her heart hammering in her chest.

“You’re quite wonderful, you know?“ Helen smiled softly.

“I uh…“ Liv didn’t know how to respond, it was like her brain had stroked out, which, being a med-tech and all, she knew it hadn’t but that was what it felt like. Helen’s words just didn’t sink in, not until she let go of one hand to be able to place it on her cheek instead.

“You can kiss me again, if, you know… that’s something you want to do…“ She said softly, blushing a little and Liv could tell she meant it. Maybe it would take some getting used to, those feelings, and allowing herself to feel them but Liv was determined to help her along. Help her to accept them for the precious thing that they were and allow herself the freedom to find a kind of happiness that she previously hadn’t considered for herself.

“Oh I really want to…“ Liv’s inhibitions fell away in one liberating blast. She took Helen’s face in her hands and kissed her. Properly. With all the love and longing she had carried in her heart for so long and Helen didn’t pull away, she wasn’t scared or overwhelmed, she just leaned into it, kissed her back and held her close.

“You’re right, you know…“ Helen whispered as she rested her forehead against Liv’s.

“About what?“ Liv asked softly, running her fingers through Helen’s soft blonde hair like she had longed to ever since meeting her.

“With what you said in the Tower about time… and love…“ Helen closed her eyes. “Love is begun by time…“

“Shakespeare.“ Liv chuckled at the irony of them both thinking of the same quote. For all they knew, Hamlet might be having it’s world premiere at the Globe right now.

“We’ve been through so much together. Experienced so much. Spend so much time together. Precious time. Time doesn't just bring love… it’s also inhabited by it…“ Helen broke off, embarrassed and Liv wouldn’t push her for more. She had already gotten so much more than she had dared hope for. They had so much more time yet to come.

“You do have a way with words, Helen Sinclair…“ Liv whispered, not trusting her voice not to break were she to speak up.

“Well, that’s sort of my job…“ Helen chuckled and Liv laughed, shaking her head to herself. She didn’t have a way with words herself, so she just leaned in and kissed her again, confident she could get her point across another way.

“Liv? Helen? What are you…“ A voice called from down the road, footsteps hurrying closer. “Oh… Uh…“ The Doctor halted, confused for a moment.

“Doctor! We thought you were still… preoccupied…“ Liv let go of Helen who blushed like a teenager caught by their parents while making out with their crush.

“Yes, the artefact, I…“ The Doctor started but Liv interrupted him:  

“We’ve dealt with it.“

“You have?“ His face fell, almost disappointed and the two of them nodded. “Without me?“ There was a long pause as they nodded again. “Well, that’s just marvellous, isn’t it. How did you do it?“ He exclaimed after brief consideration. Helen and Liv exchanged amused glances, knowing full well he usually preferred to be the one to safe the day but they were quite capable in their own right.

“That’s a bit of a complicated story.“ Liv chuckled, wondering how to best explain without mentioning his future wife or the fact he would eventually turn into a very pretty blonde.

“I like a good story, let’s get back to the TARDIS then, if I can work out where I parked it…“ He looked around slightly disoriented. “I’ll put the kettle on and you can tell me all about it.“

“Maybe another time…“ Liv said, closing her hand around Helen’s as they started walking in search of the TARDIS.

“What?“ The Doctor looked over his shoulder, confused, watching the two of them following after him. He frowned and they could virtually see the clocks ticking in his brain. He was trying to work out what was different and why they would possibly be turning down a marvellous cup of tea.

“The recounting of the story… maybe that can wait a little while.“ Liv explained.

“Why?“ He seemed genuinely put out and they almost felt sorry for him.

“It’s just, Liv and I, we have some other stuff we want to talk about…“ Helen came to her aid, giving her hand a squeeze and Liv felt her heart soar. She had expected Helen to be more reluctant to hold her hand, particular in a public place in the distant past where it certainly was even less permissible than she had experienced. She could only hope that it didn’t feel as strange as she might have feared but the it felt extremely right.

“Right…“ The Doctor huffed, trying his best not to let his disappointment show. “Guess it’s just tea for one then… and you’re sure you don’t want me to tell you how I escaped the chambers of Queen Elizabeth?“ He looked back to find them shaking their heads.

“Not right now, no.“ Liv gave him an apologetic smile.

“Do you think he knows what’s going on?“ Helen whispered to Liv who just shrugged:

“Seems clueless as ever… Maybe he needs a few regenerations to think it over. Another five or so…“ Helen laughed a little and the Doctor started rambling again, up ahead of them, as the TARDIS come into view:

“Mind you, I have got this new novel, that’s gonna keep me busy while you do whatever it is you need to do. Came highly recommended. Detective novel, private eye in old town New York, Melody Malone, that sounds like a woman after my own heart.“

“Certainly sounds like it.“ Helen grinned and Liv laughed:

“Sounds like she would have a bag of tricks up her sleeve… or dress!“

[skirtedmanworld]

Confusion

I m so torn.

While i still have male parts and have hetrosexual relationships with my wife, i am torn.

I love wearing female clothes and go everywhere in skirts and hosiery and nobody seems to care. 

I want to take this further, to have the freedom to wear dresses, a wig, makeup, heels yet my wife isn't excited about this at all.  I don’t want to risk our relationship yet I feel i am being denied my revealing my true self. 

To have her full consent to be truly me, to express myself as only i can, to be free of any judgement by others; to dress as I desire is the epitome of freedom to me.

I truly don’t understand why guys can do drugs, drink to excess, drive ridiculously fast, engage in violence or abusing language, have tatts, ponytails, piercings and be immune from criticism yet we can't wear a dress or makeup. 

Why is it that lesbians are more accepted that gay guys; is a woman licking another woman’s pussy any less accpetable that a guy suckig off another guy, or having anal sex male to male worse than male to female? 

Why is a woman pegging a guy more acceptable than a guy fucking anther guys ass?

How is it a subservient female is acceptable whereas a guy dressing as a maid is deemed sissy?

How come a guy in a dress is weird whereas a woman in a suit and tie or with a short haircut is cool?

It makes no difference to my ability to do my job, it makes no difference to my feelings for others, respect, trust or acknowledgement. 

I so want to dress the way i wan, to wear lipstick, stockings and a garter belt; do my hair nicely, accentuate by stunning blue eyes with mascara and lipstick.

To wear a dress and heels and be ME. 

I am sure millions of men would agree with me, and i’m also sure an equal amount of women whose mothers bravely fought for the “right” to wear trousers/ pants would also agree. 

PLEASE comment and state if you are male or female. It’s time this clothing and gender bias stopped. 

[omegatheunknown]

AEW ALL OUT 2021

In which, not to get ahead of myself here, AEW puts on one of the best major wrestling shows in several years*, following the simple yet effective principle of giving the people what they want and sending everyone home happy and hungry for more.

- The incredibly 'Nitro' ending of the go-home Dynamite, which ran a little long on the 'heels beat everyone up and strut around like assholes almost too in desperate need of comeuppance' bit, short of garbage raining into the ring, did actually increase the heat for both promoted matches. Again, not rocket science, but executed perfectly. Catharsis was on the card, and catharsis went over several times Sunday. - Again, it's time to move on from the Casino theme, shuffling the deck and drawing suits really only detracted from the Battle Royale and seemingly always throws the production crew a curve. If they haven't hammered it by now, it's not going to happen. - Bit unhappy about the PAC/Andrade situation, but still over the moon with Andrade's promo style and Chavito being unhelpful at best.

*Pre-Card

Best Friends and Jurassic Express v The Hardy Family Office and The Hybrid 2 (**) - Not usually much to say about a loaded-up multiteam boondoggle, particularly when the show has yet to begin, but there were some moments worth sitting up to take notice -- there's a lot of talent in the ring, even if Jack Evans/Angelico aren't going to be more than mid-level mooks, little matchups with guys like Luchasaurus and Chuck Taylor are opportunities for innovative/weird spots. - Really this match exists to show-off Jungle Boy, play his theme song twice, and work him in to the aforementioned spots. I don't rightly know what Jungle Jack's ceiling is, but it sort of feels like he's plateauing, at least this version of himself. - Dan Lambert thing is interesting in that it doesn't seem to easily lead to something obvious... I mean who are Scorp and Ethan Page feuding with by proxy here, the concept of contemporary professional wrestling? Orange Cassidy and Kenny Omega?

*Main Card

Miro (C) v Eddie Kingston for the TNT Championship (***1/2) - 'Redeem Deez Nuts' T-shirts now available -- and made immediately redundant now that Miro has graciously redeemed Eddie's nuts. - Imagine looking at Miro, listening to Miro talk, and not really being able to figure out this guy is money. Also imagine panicking when he took a little while to find his groove in AEW. 'The Redeemer' is both entertaining and terrifying, and this match delivered heavily on the promise of two big fellas smacking together repeatedly. - Not only does Eddie's arsenal of power moves target Miro's neck, he may also be quite difficult to put in the full reclined camel clutch. Or he'd quite literally snap in half. It didn't come to that. - Weird heel turn by Bryce's attention span and the overall weirdness of the finish is all that kept this from being an excellent match, otherwise this was a tremendous curtain jerker and started off a dangerously fun run of pure adrenaline.

Jon Moxley v Satoshi Kojima (****) - The stakes were nebulous, the build was abrupt, yet this was a fantastic match and tremendous showcase for an underappreciated great who has been more or less just toiling for a bunch of years as a NJPW Dad. Same deal for Nagata, and I assume Tenzan is the same, Taka Michinoku even -- let's see it. - I have to assume the Cozy Lariat might have put Mox down, but Kojima otherwise played the hits (Koji Cutter, Piledriver, Brainbustaaaa) in a big way and Moxley once again proved he's become a very well-rounded wrestler who can match the intensity of just about any former IWGP champion. - More to the point-- KAZE NI NARE -- out of nowhere, too. Or out of nowhere to those not paying attention to the whereabouts of Minoru Suzuki (Right, he's just over here to fight Daniel Garcia and not Mox?), which I guess is to my own peril. Wow, though. Surprise Number 1- a complete surprise, and a welcome one. Let's have it.

Dr Britt Baker, DMD (C) v Kris Statlander for the AEW Women's Championship (****) - I love Kris and her best friends but she didn't have a prayer of dethroning Britt. She got one promo, several weeks ago, and though she did make a meal of Hayter and Rebel, the chase has been abrupt and not given much discussion, other than Mark Henry and whomever else acknowledging what is extremely evident -- Statlander is stronger than she looks, and she looks really strong. They've got her doing Cesaro-level 'modify your grip while holding your opponent's entire weight' nonsense, and it's amazing and scary. - Even with the reign of the good doctor not being credibly threatened, this was an excellent match that demonstrated the continued growth of the competitors in the women's division, even as it underlined that their storylines remain undercooked and perfunctory: Orange Cassidy whipping off his shades to urge Stat to get up was a beautiful moment. Britt's Panama Sunrise, also, too sweet. Statlander eating shit on her 451 and her pendulum moonsault was properly brutal, as were Britt's curb stomps. Really great match between these two. - Again, if they had bothered to write anything into this story, such as Kris' alien physiology making her immune to the lockjaw or something... actually, maybe that's a terrible idea. it's an idea. Undefeated challenger is defeated, on to the next for Dr Britt. Statlander and OC should tag against some of the boys.

The Young Bucks (C) v The Lucha Bros for the AEW World Tag Team Championship(*****+) - Can't not mention the insane entrance lined up for Fenix and Penta. It was bewildering, it was enchanting, it was aggressive, it was hype. It also reminded everybody how very badly we all wanted the Lucha Bros to win. The crowd has been setting new peaks with their volume since Punk showed up, but things were absolutely thunderous and ecstatic at the end of this match. Absolutely valid response. I yelled on the couch. - Nick's facial hair was a bigger tell that it was time for the Bucks to lose than anything else about this build. There's literally nowhere to go from there -- they've done the hair, the bandanas, the kicks, the animal print, the dangly earrings -- peak visual heel for this time and place. - Sincerely thought this was going to be too much of a full sprint spot-fest (the PWG-esque circle of trading blows is not really 'my thing') but even so they kept finding gears, and ramping and ramping and adding blood and brutality along the way. Even a bit of levity, with the tacked up sneaker, followed by the sincerity of Penta throwing himself in harm's way to protect his brother. Immense match, I think you'd have to go back to the Bucks vs the Addiction and MCMGs Ladder War to find a more thrilling tag team gimmick match. - If there's a single flaw to be found it's in the production not really settling on wide angles for simultaneous action at the start of the match. They figured it out. - Rey Fenix is the best luchador in the world.

Women's Casino Battle Royale (**1/2) - If nothing else, this really shows off that they now have a surplus of women's wrestlers who deserve time to hang in the ring. Unsurprisingly, the match picked right up when Thunder Rosa and then Jamie Hayter got to the ring, with additional props to Tay Conti and Jade Cargill, who was dumped rather unceremoniously given her general booking... - Okay, there was something else. Welcome to the rechristened Ruby Soho, who I've not seen a lot of outside of her extremely limited showcase in WWE, but she has so many friends in the back and in the industry and that's never for nothing, not in wrestling, anyway. Intrigued to see where she fits, and if the women ever get more than a match per show. - Touched on this in the preamble but this was the roughest part of the night for the home viewer, just weird decisions on cutting away from various entrances to show... nothing in particular happening. Also while the commitment to not-kayfabing the countdown clock is... admirable? It makes the pacing hinky. - Almost everyone who got new gear for tonight was looking like the white ranger -- Nyla, Swole, Bunny, someone I'm missing. Except Anna Jay, whose stars and glitter gear looked great.

MJF v Chris Jericho for the fate of Jericho's in-ring career (***) - MJF's unauthorized homage to Y2J's entrance: good. Fozzy's guitarist going off tempo with the instrumental Judas: weak, and would've been sad if this were the end for Jericho. Especially as the build has felt... muted, somehow. - Props to the commentary for continuing to feed the red herring of 'in AEW,' as a caveat to stipulation, it did feel like... a remote possibility that MJF would win. - Credit to Aubrey for calling this one down the middle and not putting the fix in for her friend Jericho, and I guess the Dusty finish will give MJF plenty to gripe about. - MJF wrestles with a pure heel style, holds, chops, blocks, and Jericho is fifty years old, so the level of wrestling on exhibition in these matches is well beside the point. It was solid to good, and I was fighting burn out from the first half of the card's level of excitement.

CM Punk v Darby Allin (***1/2) - There are a couple benefits of Darby as a dance partner, and it's certainly better than having to watch Punk return against like, QT Marshall or Shawn Spears. Darby does make everyone look slow, but he can also be tossed around, and this raises his profile even in defeat, obviously. That said, the stakes here are... meta, at best, in that we want to see the man look good and justify the hype. It's a weird thing to root for. He certainly does look good. (Tights? Tights!) - It's fun to theorize about actually booking an angle where Punk is rusty and needs to regain his prowess, and maybe he'll stumble, but maybe the most we get out of that angle is hitting the GTS a little close to the ropes so Darby falls right out of the ring, in what was, for me, the spot that justified this whole match. - Sting's proud step-dad aura is still a hell of a thing, I really liked the end of the match kudos all around. - Match was good, hard to hang my emotions on. I wasn't watching WWE when Punk was in WWE. Definitely feeding off the excitement of others a bit here, and he sure can talk. I'd like to see him cultivate a stable, certainly.

Paul Wight v QT Marshall (n/r) - ...popcorn match? QT Marshall is like the anti-Daniel Garcia in that while his prominence and presence is just as inexplicable, I don't want it to continue, and he doesn't justify it in the process. - Match was two minutes longer than it needed to be.

Kenny Omega (c) v Christian Cage for the AEW World Championship (****1/2) - Crowd was both burnt out and more or less waiting for the post-match angle. Which I get. it's hard to cruise to the main event and having seen all the different things we've already seen on this card, even a singular performer like Kenny Omega and a legend with whom he (surprisingly? fittingly?) has superb chemistry with in Christian Cage were up against it to deliver something memorable. - Context dependent, I can definitely see rating this below their Rampage match, especially since... I mean Christian isn't winning the AEW title off Kenny at this or probably any other event. - But! It was really good! It was very good! They really do match-up well, and Kenny's v-trigger has rarely looked more devastating than when it knocks Christian flat. Christian got cut open in a novel and initially worrying way, and Kenny followed up a botched moonsault with a harder version of the same move off a rail, but it was a really great match and it deserved more energy than was available.

Post-Show - Calling back and inverting the end of Dynamite, The Elite strut about the ring, slightly less stoked than they were on Wednesday, but with the Bucks smiling through the pain, and Jungle Boy once again subjected to violence for his misguided heroism, Kenny 'not much a promo' Omega lays down a killer line about nobody being fit to challenge him who isn't unavailable, already tired or dead. - The Undertaker ADAM COLE, BAY BAY as Surprise #3 was a minor stroke of brilliance, and a fun swerve because while it's exciting to see him, his appearance at this point in the narrative does nothing to solve the problem of The Elite beating up Christian and Jungle Boy. Unless he's still sore about his unsolved murder, which he isn't. Storytime with Adam Cole is back and it's beautiful. Also Jungle Boy died for this. - Okay. But. Just. Okay. CM Punk and Bryan Danielson are All Elite. They will hopefully tag together. Bryan will head to NJPW, almost definitely. Minoru Suzuki just walked in and started slugging on Mox. The Forbidden Door is wide open. Will Kenny Omega one day return to Wrestle Kingdom? There are so many possibilities and they are all very exciting. This was a phenomenal show and it didn't have Hangman Page, Cody Rhodes, FTR, Santana and Ortiz, PAC, Andrade, Sammy Guevara, Team Taz, and the rest.

- Wrestling is good, actually. Imagine watching like five hours of wrestling and loving wrestling at the end of it.

*What competes- WK11, Dominion 2018, 2019, DoN 2019, 2021.. All-In, probably. Wrestlemania 30. A few Takeovers. Kris Wolf's retirement show...