#and my hair isn’t curly. it’s pin straight but the length is right and it’s a hot mess from bleach damage

[toxicrevolver]

Halloween tag game! Thanks for the tag!!! @serendipminie

Do this quiz find out what horror movie stereotype you are

And make this picrew/dolldivine to design your look

I’m also somehow a tragic hero. Idk. Maybe it’s bcs I’m always trying to fight. In all actuality I’d probably be one of the first people to die in a horror movie bcs I can’t keep my mouth shut (which is filed under reasons I’d do terrible in prison). This was super fun tho. I love doing pic crew things (even tho I hate my face).

And as per usual I’m not tagging anyone bcs I am lazy (and socially awkward) plus I have the big sad. But if anyone wants to participate they can blame me as the reason.

[a-supernatural-writer]

Playing With Their Hair

Poly Lost Boys, Michael and Star x Gender neutral reader

Came up with this while chatting with @aliypop. Thank you for giving me this idea, I had so much fun with this!

I love playing with hair/having my hair played with so here's an imagine where the reader like playing with their partners' hair and they receive some loving back.

Warnings?: there's like a few curse words...?

Playing with your multiple partners' hair was something that you did absentmindedly. Whether it be while you were doing a task that kept you in one spot, cuddling with them, being near them or even to just get your mind off things.

Though some of your partners allowed it more than others. Dwayne was at the top of your list of people that loved it when you played with his hair. He loved it when you would run your fingers through it and scratch his scalp. At times you would catch him almost falling asleep.

He also liked it when you would braid his hair. Sometimes when he would wake up in your nest he would find small random braids in his hair and thought it was absolutely adorable. He wore them the entire night and didn’t take them out until you did so yourself.

There were a handful of times that you’ve given him an actual french braid. You would smile when you would take it out the next day, his usual straight hair now a little wavy.

Dwayne would also reciprocate the action. If you were laying down with him or just leaning against him, he would play with your hair as well. If it was long enough, he would braid your hair as well. He’s the only one who kills it at braiding. If your hair was short, he would just run his fingers through it, scratching your scalp to lull you to sleep.

Beads were also a big thing between the two of you. If you wanted to give him a few braids, you sometimes wanted to add a couple of beads as you braided. He would do the same with you, picking out your favorite colors and wearing a smile the entire night when you wouldn’t take them out.

Paul enjoys it as well, I mean, have you seen his hair? The boy runs his hands through his hair to get that teased look. He loves it when you tease it yourself, trying to fix it from laying down in your nest or even just from causing chaos.

This boy purrs when you run his fingers through his hair. He’s like a big cat… or a golden retriever that loves the attention. He will lay practically on top of you as you play with his hair. You wanna put in a few braids? Sure! Just please take them out before he goes to sleep. He’ll wear them out no problem but he doesn’t want them for too long.

Paul mostly enjoys you just running your fingers through it. He will play with your hair, no questions asked. If he does, expect him to stare at your face like a love-sick puppy when he does. He loves you to death and just watching you be so relaxed by his touch could make his dead heart beat one more time.

Plus, he fidgets a lot so letting him play with your hair was a BIG thing. He would try his best to give you braids but would fail and you were lucky that he didn’t tie your hair into a knot if it was long enough. If it was short, he would still have fun just playing with the small strands of hair.

Michael 100% down with you touching his hair which made you very happy. Have you seen his curls?!?! They are so soft!! Probably has the softest hair out of the entire bunch. You love running your fingers through his hair and you are not the only one. Everyone seems to love the softness, everyone somehow and someway has run their fingers through his hair.

He loves affection and playing with his hair not only calmed you, but it also calmed him. Multiple times he has fallen asleep in your lap and you definitely aren’t complaining about it.

Since his hair isn’t necessarily long, you can braid it, but it isn’t going to be the best. You are incredibly lucky if you can get a couple braids. You mostly just play with the curls, pulling them and watching them spring back into place which always makes you giggle and make little sound effects with them. (Side note: I have really curly hair and so many people did this to me.)

He is the only one, apart from Star and Marko that you can put anything in his hair. Sometimes you’ll put in random clips, pulling some of the hair back into a new hairstyle. The clips would range from simple bobby pins to colorful metal snap clips to more fancier ones with tiny jewels on them. A pretty boy deserves pretty clips.

When he plays with your hair, he’s so gentle. Treating you like glass and mostly is pushing you hair out of your face so he could stare at it. Your heart clenches when he looks at you lovingly and running his fingers through your hair.

Star is on the same level as Paul. She melts from your touch. Her favorite thing to do is hug you as you play with her hair. You detangle her long curls, giving her braids like the others and even adding in small beads like Dwayne, but that’s very rarely.

You are convinced that her hair is the longest. Followed by Marko, Dwayne and then Paul. David’s is just a tiny bit longer than Michael’s, so you have so much fun with Star’s hair the most.

Even when you weren’t playing with it while relaxing, you were trying out new hairstyles out on her. You’ve both gone through multiple different looks for her. Experimenting to see what worked and what didn’t. Star could never see what you’ve done but you always explained it to her the best you could or even showed her pictures of what it looks like from magazines.

Star does the same for you. She’ll style it and play with it depending on what length or even what type of hair you had. She always tried her best, giving you looks that she knows you would love. Heck, she’ll even help you dye it or cut it to your wishes if you ask her too. To be honest, Star is the only one you’ll allow to cut or do anything drastic to your hair.

Marko is weird about his hair. He takes care of his luscious golden curls like it’s his baby. It’s on the same level of his jacket. Nobody can really touch or play with it. But if he’s in the mood or gets a little jealous that everyone else's hair is getting love, he wants it too!

Without a word, Marko will just either plop down in front of you or sit on your lap, pulling out the hair tie that keeps his hair back and just mumble that he wants you to play with it. How could you resist? Answer: you couldn’t.

His long beautiful curls were like Michael’s but had a bit more of a bounce to them. You would detangle them, he would love it when you scratched his scalp, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch.

Good luck doing anything to his hair because curly hair is very tricky to work with. The curls get caught easily on each other. You think you have it down? Nope. Nice try. Marko’s hair: 1 You: 0

Marko’s hair is the second softest. Again, he takes care of his curls, he takes pride in them and he will never cut it. Maybe trim it to keep it healthy, but nothing more than an inch off. He’ll lose it.

He LOVES playing with your hair though. Anytime the two of you are together, his hands are playing with anything he can get his hands on. He will even take tips from Star on how to take care of your hair. There are some nights that Marko will take Star’s place and try a style that he thinks will look good on you. You know he was happy with his work because he was smiling all night long.

Now David… David’s hair is a no. Don’t touch it in front of the others, don’t even think about it. He’s like Marko. His mullet is a part of him and he doesn’t like people fucking with it. But that’s when he’s around the others. In private, just the two of you, it’s a whole different story.

Even in private though, he’s still a little protective of it. Very rarely will he just let you "play" with it. It’s only if he’s in a really good mood or he’s stressed. If he’s stressed, it’s probably one of the best things you can do for him. He especially likes it when you scratch the lower back of his head, right where it connects with his neck. Don’t ask why, it just feels good.

Another thing that he really likes is when you push back any stray hairs of his. Your fingers would brush against his face, hitting a little bit of his scruff as you pushed back a stray hair behind his ear. If you do that, dear lord, have mercy on your soul because he likes it way too much.

Other than that, you aren’t touching it unless you two are doing some kinky shit, which is the only other time he’ll let you touch it. Just pulling his hair at the base, the same place he likes scratched, and that’s when I wish you all the luck in the world. He isn’t letting you go at all that night.

David really only plays with your hair if he’s thinking about something. He’ll usually be laying with you in your nest, smoking a cigarette in one hand while petting your hair with the other, deep in thought. He doesn’t say anything as he does so and that’s okay. He’s content and so are you.

Also, don’t let anybody else know, but how the hell do you think his hair is platinum blonde, almost white? You are the only one to bleach and dye his hair. He will never live down the teasing from the others if they saw him with the foil in his locks. The only one he would allow to see was Dwayne. Before you came along, he was the one helping.

Apart from that, there are multiple times when a handful of you have braid trains. And that includes Michael, you and Dwayne; in the specific order. Michael learns from both you and Dwayne on how to braid hair.

Occasionally, Marko might join, letting Dwayne braid his hair. You’re a little jealous cause somehow Dwayne has magic fingers and is able to braid Marko’s hair with no problem.

Of course, like David, all of them either like pulling your hair or getting theirs pulled in a certain way. More or less, it’s David, Dwayne, and Marko that prefer pulling yours. Paul and Michael like it when you do it to them and Star… this girl is a wild card, you never know with her.

Either way, playing with their hair or them playing with yours is, in a way, therapeutic for all of you and it brings you all even closer together.

[misterghostfrog]

[IMAGE ID; a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood carrying Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat freckled white man with curly ginger hair that is shaved close at the sides. He has a pair of round framed glasses in a bright red, under the glasses he is wearing eyeliner, and a navy eyeshadow. He has black lipstick, two black snakebite piercings under his lip, and a small black nostril piercing. His ear has a large black piercing that cuffs a chain to a small black piercing higher up his ear, and one final black piercing in the middle. He has a black choker, and then a looser chain necklace with an eye ornament on it. He has a studded lather jacket on that is covered in multiple patches and pins, mostly hidden by Jon: of the visible pins there is a trans flag patch on his chest, and on his shoulder is a large dark colored patch that has A-C-A-B on it in white. Under the Jacket is a black shirt that he has partly tucked into his pants, the shirt has a large anarchy symbol drawn on it in red. Under that he is wearing jeans that are significantly ripped as far as we can see. On his right hand he has several black rings, and his nails are painted black. Jon is a skinny Jordanian man with brown eyes and shoulder-length grey-streaked dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of his neck. He has a beard beginning to grow that appears to be the product of forgetting to shave. He is covered in a series of small round scars that vary in exact size. He is wearing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses, a plain t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee, and converse. Martin is carrying Jon bridal style in his arms, and is looking away, he is blushing, though his expression is concerned and appears to be speaking. Jon has his arms wrapped around Martins neck, his cheeks are darkened and he is staring at hte ground with an expression somewhere between fear and the face one makes when they’re having to retrace every step they’ve taken to get here. END ID]

Punk Martin but make it Jonmartin.

Also I wrote a lil thing to go along with this under the cut, its only barely edited because it was mostly for fun so be warned its a big ol mess! But its s2 jonmartin nonsense with Martin being very cool and attractive and Jon being seven layers deep in denial (Also I may have written Jon as a touch autistic because its projection hours tonight i’m too sleepy to mask and that goes for writing too babey)

(Mentions of worms, past injuries, and Jon dealing with some internalised ableism and general foolishness)

Jon forgot his cane.

It’s a relatively regular occurrence, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing it’s something of a recent addition to the list of things he needs to keep track of when he leaves the house. Another lovely parting gift from Prentiss, a worm in his left leg that went just quick enough to start burrowing into the bone before it was removed. 

For another, he really has other things to worry about. And if it doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t matter. Most days he can get by just fine without it- it hurts of course. But not so much he can’t support himself, and really, does he need it otherwise?

Martin and Tim don’t seem to agree, though Sasha has kept respectfully to herself on the whole business. Martin, of course, he trusts. Albeit only recently. But that doesn’t make him right, his priorities are warped. Naturally. He doesn’t see the bigger picture.

(or at least that’s what Jon tells himself)

Which is what leads to this moment, sitting on a bench outside the shop, single grocery bag by his feet. He’d only run out to get a few things, but somewhere between the his flat the the shop his barely visible limp had become more pronounced as his hip began to throb, then he was halfway through the frozens when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish the trip. After that he’d barely made it through checkout to the nearest seat before all but collapsing into it.

And now he’s sitting, stuck. An insurmountable walk from home, without his stupid cane. Which, he notes, he wouldn’t need if he’d brought in the first place. Funny how that works.

“Jon?” A familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jon jolts upright. Martin. 

He knows Martin lives in the area, a side effect of his... investigations. Though he was unaware he used the same shop. He looks up, a greeting or perhaps a question on his lips that dies as soon as he actually lays eyes on Martin.

Martin is wearing a leather jacket. Not just a leather jacket of course, but that’s the first thing Jon can process. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket covered in various patches that advertise various opinions and identities that Jon doesn’t have time to think about. His  jeans are about as much rip as they are Jean, and he’s got piercings- and eyeliner. he’s dressed like he should be riding a motorcycle, not the beat-up red bike he’s got beside him.

“Are you alright?” Martin says, and Jon realizes he’s been staring.

“Are you going to a costume party?” Jon blurts instead of answering. A costume party would make sense, of course. Martin doesn’t dress like this, he dresses like- like-

It occurs to him dimly that he’s never encountered Martin outside of work, at least never in a scenario that would allow him to change out of his work clothes. And some part of him has always assumed that sweaters and khakis were simply how he dressed. It suited him, really. Or Jon had assumed, but then again he assumed anything familiar is suiting.

“Wh- A- no?” Martin answers, looking vaguely offended. Jon flushes.

“I- sorry, I just- I’ve... I didn’t think you seemed the type to dress... like that...?” Jon fumbles, pathetically trying to salvage the conversation. Judging by Martins expression, he’s failing.

Martin opens his mouth to say something, and Jon realizes there’s likely no coming back from this particular mortification. He snatches the bag by his feet and moves to stand. Some excuse already tumbling out when the reason for his sit-down, which had dulled to a shockingly forgettable throb, decides to remind him of his place in the world.

He lets out a cry of pain, and crumples. Only stopped from hitting the ground by a pair of arms that wrap around his chest and under his shoulder. 

“Oh my god, Jon. Are you alright- what- is it your leg? Where’s your cane-” Martin babbles, Gently replacing Jon on his bench as Jon breathes through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine- i’m fine Martin I-” he sighs, studiously avoiding Martins gaze. “My cane is at home.” He tries not to sound chastised as he says the last part- he shouldn’t have to after all. He’s still Martins boss. He shouldn’t be looking away like he’s been caught at something.

“Jon” Martin sounds exasperated, and Jon crosses his arms. Once again, nothing like someone being scolded. He’s not being scolded. He’s an adult. “How long have you been sitting here like this?”

“I...” Jon begins before trailing off, he’s not actually sure. The period between sitting on the bench and the pain dulling enough for him to think through the fog is something is a blur. He is pretty sure someone asked if he was alright at some point. His lack of answer seems to be enough for Martin though.

“Just give me a moment.” He says, stepping away from Jon over to his bike- which has fallen over onto the ground -pulling it upright and over to Jon on the bench. He pushes down the rusted kickstand with a hearty kick- and Jon briefly notes he’s wearing steel-toed boots -and sets the bike gently upright.

“Okay, so! If you sit on the bike I can push it, and you can get home and rest that leg without jostling it too much by trying to walk without your cane.” He says pointedly. Jon makes a face,

“This... this really isn’t necessary Martin- I’m perfectly capable-” He grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. But a glance at Martins expression shuts him up quick. 

“Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Jon pauses, the memory of the white-hot flash of pain still fresh in his mind. He grimaces, shaking his head. Martin hums thoughtfully. “Alright, would you be alright if I picked you up? Just for a moment to get you on the bike” He asks carefully.

Jon hesitates, looking between Martin and the bike. And weighs his options. After several seconds he nods. Martin smiles, and Jon feels something in his chest flutter. Anxiety at his decision most likely. Or perhaps nerves in relation to sitting on a bike, he’s never ridden one- of course Martin will be doing all the work but surely there’s some sort of balance required isn’t there? Really he shouldn’t be riding a bike like this-

Those thoughts are all swept away at the feeling of large warm hands gently scooping him off the bench. He instinctively throws his arms around Martins neck for support as he’s lifted into the air. 

He can feel Martins chest warm against his side as Martin holds him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting his legs. He’s being cradled by his subordinate, carefully as so not to jostle his leg. And all he can think about is how warm Martin is. He’s large and soft despite all the sharper accessories and he smells a bit like leather and tea on top of whatever soap he uses. Probably something that Jon wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to his head. And Jon can see the freckles on Martins cheeks and neck close enough to count if he wanted to even as he looks away, saying something Jon can’t quite parse because he’s too busy reeling from the realization he’d be happy to sit in Martins arms like this for the rest of his life.

His face goes hot and he forces himself to look down at the ground. The pain is clearly messing with his head, or perhaps the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps he’s still riding the high from that moment of realization that Martin isn’t trying to kill him, that he can trust him. 

Either way he’s not thinking straight, which is why he’s dissapointed instead of relieved when Martin gently places him on the bike with the exact amount of care he took in picking him up. Which shouldn’t make him feel so oddly jittery but it does.

The ride is quiet, aside from awkward instructions from Jon on where to turn as Martin guides them carefully along the sidewalk. They miss a turn once because Jons too preoccupied with the feeling of Martins arm bumping against his shoulder as he guides the bike.

And then they’re at Jons flat, and Jon once again feels that misplaced disappointment. He wonders if perhaps Martin will carry him up to his flat, and his face burns again as the silliness of the thought hits him.

Martin does very, very briefly lift him to help him off the bike when he stumbles. But his leg has recovered enough that he can make it up to his flat without assistance, or so he tells Martin. Who looks unconvinced.

“Let me at least walk with you, yea? That way I know for sure you got home safe.” He insists, and Jon forced himself to be displeased with the situation.

It ends up being a good thing Martin came along though, a partway up the steps the railing is no longer enough to support Jon, and he ends up half-carried the rest of the way. Martins arm under his shoulder, his own loops around Martins back, gripping the jacket for support. He can feel his head drifting at the contact- Martin is just so damned warm and safe and Martin it’s impossible not to get distacted.

He forces himself to think about something else, anything else. The jacket- he can feel the leather under his fingertips and it’s as good distraction as any.

It’s a nice jacket, really. Clearly well-worn. And it does suit Martin, in an odd sort-of way.

Jon winces internally, remembering the conversation from earlier. He hadn’t meant to come off so... well. It doesn’t matter. Except that it does, even though it doesn’t, but it does.

Once they reach Jons door, he pushes off of Martin to lean on the wall while he fumbles for his keys. Martin lingers as he does so, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly in the silence.

Jon finds his keys and sighs in relief as the door swings open.

He nearly wanders inside and shuts the door before remembering basic human etiquette. He pauses in the doorway, turning to Martin. Who smiles awkwardly.

“Thank you.” He says stiffly, still leaning heavily on the doorframe. “That was... very kind. Of you.” Martin shakes his head.

“It’s nothing, really. Couldn’t exactly just leave you there, could I?” 

Jon shifts awkwardly, wincing at the brief weight on his leg. He’s right of course, morally at least. If not logically.

“I... I suppose not.” He says, hesitating before adding “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Jon. I already said it’s fine-”

“No-” Jon grimaces “not for that. I- I meant... for what I said. About your clothes. They don’t... I just- I didn’t expect it, and I may have come off as... rude.” He mutters

“Oh.” Martin says flatly, Jons sure he’d forgotten about that until just now, and he wishes he could have kept it that way.

“they do suit you, though.” He says, after an awkward pause. “Your clothes, I mean. It looks- you look nice.” he finishes as genuinely as he can- he does mean it. Of course, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like he does.

“Oh” Martin says again, brightening slightly, his cheeks going blotchy red in a blush. “I- er- thank you...? I suppose?”

“Yes. Well. Your welcome, I suppose.” There’s another awkward pause, Martin isn’t quite smiling at Jon, but there’s something soft in his expression Jon can’t quite parse. “ Have a good day, Martin.” He says finally, after a long pause. Martins cheeks redden again.

“Oh- yeah, er. You too Jon- and take care of yourself. Alright?”

Jon nods, and Martin smiles. And Jon thinks he’d like to see Martin smile a bit more.

He waves as Martin heads down the stairs, he can hear Martin humming as he goes.

[fandomficsnstuff]

Little Dragon - Part 9

Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.

(Warnings: a bit of Dothraki which will be written in bold, also, the tiniest hint of a possible future ~romance~)

High Valyrian is in cursive

You giggled as you flew besides Drogon, Daenerys’ on top of him, heading back towards Dragonstone. Daenerys had suggested flying together, since she knew how much you loved it, and besides, she loved it herself. As you landed near Dragonstone you couldn’t help but feel a certain freedom, one you knew Daenerys felt as well.

You sighed as your feet hit the ground, and you moved to Rhaegal’s face, your hand running along his neck all the way and you gently placed it above his nose, leaning your forehead against his nose tip for a moment before letting him fly off with Drogon. You walked with Daenerys back to Dragonstone, parting ways by your room as she continued down the hall, possibly to her own room.

As you got inside of your room you saw Missandei standing near a hot bath and you grinned widely “Missandei” you greeted and she spun around, hiding something behind her back as she bowed her head “Princess” you walked closer “what are you hiding?” You watched as Missandei pulled a small, but detailed, wooden figure of a girl, and the closer you looked, the more it resembled you, making you grin even more. “One of the Dothraki made it, he was young, a bit older than you, a few years maybe, but he said that he hoped to live long enough to see you and your mother on the throne, he asked me to give it to you”, you looked up at her with tears in your eyes, still grinning. “You inspire a lot of love, Princess (Y/N), just like your mother” you nodded as you wiped away a few tears that had spilled over the corners of your eyes “did he really say ‘throne’?” Missandei laughed “no, he said ‘iron chair’, I see your mother told you that the Dothraki have no word for ‘throne’” you nodded at her words as you took the small figure from her, it really looked like you, but not like in a dress, it was the clothes you had on when you rode Rhaegal, he must have seen you in it and remembered “she did… where is he, the Dothraki who made this?” Missandei smiled gently at you “I can show you, but after your bath, before the water gets cold” you nodded, putting the figure on your night stand before returning to the tub “of course, thank you, Missandei” she smiled and left your room so you could undress and bathe in peace.

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After your bath you had changed into a dress, it was one out of thick material, to keep out the cold, but it was comfortable all the same, it was (Y/F/C), a small dragon pin on your chest, symbolizing your mother’s house, and your own now, your shoes were also warm and thick, but still fit enough to walk on the sand, which you currently were. You watched Missandei point out the Dothraki who had made the small wooden figure, sitting on a stone along with a few other Dothraki, no more than five, scattered on the beach. This Dothraki was handsome, he had the same copper-tones skin as all the other Dothraki but a different glow to it, the same almond shaped eyes that stood out anyway, but he was different, he was younger, so his hair and beard had no real length to it, his curly black hair rested on his head like the rest of them, but you’d somehow be able to see him even in a crowd of Dothraki he was obviously tall, you couldn’t be sure of what physique but he seemed lean, he was leaning his elbows on his knees, a knife in his hand and a rock in the other, he was sharpening his knife. His black coal eyes found yours and you swore, on your life, that you saw a hint of blush on his cheeks as she quickly looked away again, trying to act like he hadn’t seen you. You approached with an amused smile, walking straight up to him, forcing him to look at you without touching him, and your smile somehow grew as your eyes locked, you watched him quickly stand up and try to bow as he had seen the Unsullied and others do but it didn’t go over well, which you didn’t mention, but the fact that he tried made feel weird inside.

You didn’t know how much of the common tongue he spoke, and you didn’t know that much Dothraki, so instead you showed him the small figure, grinning when you saw his eyes widen in realisation, “I am very happy for this” you knew there was no word for thank you in Dothraki, so it was the best you could do, but he seemingly understood you as she grinned himself “good, but I did not know the lady would tell you that it was me who made it” he spoke a bit too fast but you still understood most of what he said, his voice wasn’t as deep as some of the other Dothraki, but then again, he was young, “I asked” you gave a light shrug, enjoying the way he seemed to be shy around you, not at all how you imagined a Dothraki would act up close, but then again, you had heard from Daenerys of Khal Drogo, her husband, and how gentle he could be with her when no one else was around.

“What is your name?” you did your best, but Dothraki had not been one of the languages you had not focused on, sadly, and now you cursed your younger self for not paying more attention.

“Ezzo”

“Ezzo…” you tasted the name on your tongue, it gave you a warm feeling saying it, and it made you smile brightly up at him, and after a while you realized that you had stared, making you blink and quickly look down, blushing red. “I-I hope my Dothraki is understandable enough, I’m afraid that I never paid enough attention when my teacher tried to teach it to me” you knew, you just knew that it sounded awful, but glancing up you only saw his smile “I think you sound beautiful” you grinned widely at him, about to say something else when out of the corner of your eyes you saw an Unsullied soldier approaching, making you turn your head to him, it was one you knew, not well, but you knew his name, his name was Grey Curse, just thinking about it made you wince, so you never spoke it out loud.

“Princess (Y/N), her Grace is asking for you, Missandei said you might be here” you nodded and looked back at Ezzo, who had no idea what was being said “I have to go... “ you said in a sad voice, making Ezzo frown but nod all the same, almost like he expected you to just go right then and there, but you couldn’t help yourself, you leaned up and gave him a peck on his cheek, a quick one, you barely noticed it yourself. You couldn’t help the grin you had on your lips the whole way to the map room where Daenerys and all the rest were waiting for you. Daenerys raised her head to look at you, about to say something but seeing your grin she froze, narrowing her eyes at you and smirking ever so slightly “want to tell me why you are so happy?” she spoke High Valyrian, mainly because she wanted a bit more privacy, even though she knew that Missandei, Varys and Grey Worm could understand her, but both Varys and Grey Worm were good at pretending not to hear her, however Missandei smirked amused at the scene unfolding before her “no reason, why are we speaking Valyrian, mother?” you shrugged, making Daenerys scoff amused at you “I just got ready to scold you for being late, but seeing you this happy, I’ll hold it off, for now” you knew she was just being playful, it was in her tone, and both Varys and Missandei couldn’t help the tiny smile that forced it’s way onto their lips, hearing their Queen’s words, but quickly shook it off as Daenerys turned back to face the map carved into the table.

“So, you were saying?” all of you looked back to Tyrion who nodded and resumed talking about his plan to sent the Unsullied to Casterly Rock, but for some reason, your mind were stuck on the beach, standing with a tall Dothraki, who’s curly hair was like a crown, resting gently on his head, his eyes black as coal but still warm, and you kept thinking of his name, Ezzo, you wondered what it meant. Ezzo, maybe it meant kindness, or maybe it meant strength, or courage, or maybe it meant handsome, if so then it’d certainly fit. You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed the map room clearing, all but Daenerys, who smirked at you with amusement “so” she began, snapping you out of your day dream, you eyes locking with hers and instantly you blushed, looking down and fiddling with the wooden figure you still had in your hand, something that Daenerys easily noticed, “who made that?” you let her take it from your hands, letting her study it with a warm smile “a Dothraki” her head instantly snapped to yours, making you realize what she feared “he’s very sweet,” you quickly assured, seeing her visibly relax, of course she trusted her army, but Dothraki was not known for being gentlemen, she knew this very well, better than most “his name is Ezzo… Missandei said she saw him carve it and he asked her to give it to me” you continued, taking back the small figure as you looked at it fondly “I wanted to thank him so Missandei brought me to him, I’m sorry I lost track of time” when you finally raised your head to meet her gaze, you saw nothing but warmth and joy, a small smile resting on her lips “well, I’d very much like to meet this, Ezzo” a part of you began to grow nervous, what if she didn’t like him? You knew she loved you and only wanted what was best for you, but you also knew that although she had not birthed you, you were her daughter, her only living human child, and you knew that no matter what, a dragon would protect it's young, with fire and blood if need be.

[the-dream-team]

What You Truly Are

I'd like to dedicate this fic to @thejilyship & my cousin, Alex <3

Years of doubt and confusion about her sexuality were thrown away the instant Lily met James Potter.

Mr. Slughorn had assigned James to partner with her in Chemistry because he was new to Hogwarts Prep and she was top of the class. He had kind, hazel eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses and a curly mop of bangs that immediately grabbed her attention. He was smiley and funny and perfectly content with his own shortcomings when it came to Science, happy to let her take the lead on their lab, something most boys would never set aside their egos to do.

But James wasn’t like most boys. He complimented things like her handwriting or how kind she was to strangers instead of the clothes she wore or the color of her hair. Plus, he seemed unconcerned with appearances and popularity, instead focused almost completely on making the school’s soccer team.

He spoke about soccer constantly, and Lily loved the way he lit up when talking about the training he’d been doing for tryouts and the way he’d managed to complete a bicycle kick for the first time. She’d be lying if she had her doubts whether James would make the team, what with his slight build and short stature. The boys on Hogwarts Prep’s Varsity team were all about a head taller, sixty pounds heavier, and had actually defined muscles, which James lacked.

But that was what drew Lily to him. He was softer, blushed easily, giggled openly. There was a feminine energy to the boy that clicked all the gears into place. All this time, Lily had been straight, it just so happened that she preferred boys that were a bit more effeminate. Boys like James.

When he actually made the soccer team, she was the first person he told, wrapping her in a wonderfully intoxicating hug outside of her dorm room, his smooth, soft hands brushing her neck in a way that sparked an ember of hope that maybe he looked at her the same way she looked at him. They spent the rest of the evening celebrating in the cafeteria with slices of pizza and unlimited soft serve, discussing the team’s first match against Durmstrang High. Lily admitted that she’d always loved playing soccer as a kid and how she wished Hogwarts had a girl’s team. James looked at her with an entire forest fire behind his eyes and said with a surprising level of intensity that it was bullshit that the team wasn’t co-ed.

The next day he showed up to her room, a smile on his lips and a soccer ball under his arm. He took her to the fields and they ran drills and practiced shooting on each other until the sun began to set. She never thought she understood a ‘runner’s high’ until they raced the length of the field as blues and purples chased pinks and oranges in the sky, sprinting against each other until their lungs emptied out and their legs gave in. They tumbled onto the cool, evening grass, shoulder to shoulder, head to head, stealing glances and sharing laughter. She thought he might kiss her when they both turned their heads and parted lips, but instead, he sat up, mumbling something about it “not being fair to her.” Whatever that meant.

She tried to take a step back after that day, a silly effort to protect her heart. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for her and James. Maybe they were better as friends. Plus, his big first game was in a matter of days and she wanted to support him in every way she could. Distracting him with her feelings wouldn’t be helpful…

And that decision seemed to be for the best when Hogwarts beat Durmstrang handily four to one, with James scoring three of their goals. The bleachers erupted into applause as the buzzer went off at the end of the game, but no one was louder than Lily as she cheered for James, who was lifted up by his teammates like a king on his throne.

Lily found herself running down to the field, searching for James in the crowds of fans, hoping to hug him the way they’d hugged before. When she finally spotted him, he’d been approached by the school’s broadcasting club and his face was blasted onto the jumbotron, his voice carrying over the speaker system.

“James Potter, you’re clearly the breakout star of the game today,” said a student reporter into a microphone. “Any thoughts you’d like to share with us today?”

Lily pushed through the swarms of fans, finally making it to the camera crew, and when James saw her smiling at him, his eyes flashed.

“Yeah, I’ve got some thoughts,” he said, his voice echoing around the field and bleachers. “I think Hogwarts should let girls onto the team because they can be just as good as the boys.” He was met by a chorus of confused chatter and a handful of boos. But Lily’s heart soared. “Sure, boo all you want, but I think you’d be surprised to know a girl was Hogwart’s highest scorer in today’s match!”

The jeering turned to a strange mix of laughter and dismissive shouts, causing James’ face to scrunch up. Lily’s heart pounded through her ears.

“It’s me!” James shouted, flustered frustration lining his (her?) face. “I’m the girl! My name isn’t James, it’s Jamie!”

Lily’s jaw hit the floor and her stomach swooped as James- no, Jamie- reached up to fiddle with her hair, grabbed a hidden bobby pin, and let a mess of wavy curls fall to her shoulders.

The crowd continued their shouting, mostly echoing a strange chant of “prove it, prove it!” until Jamie finally rolled her eyes, sent Lily a smirk and a shrug, and grabbed the hem of her jersey, pulling it up to her nose.

The crowd let out a collective gasp, and Lily quickly came to terms with her sexuality.

Once the cameras turned off, Jamie was immediately in front of her, eyes wide and waiting, lip caught between her teeth with a worry that Lily wanted to immediately wipe off.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” she started, “I didn’t mean to trick you or anything like that, but I didn’t expect to meet someone like you and-”

Lily rushed forward, feeling more secure in her thoughts and feelings than ever before, and grabbed Jamie’s face, pulling the girl down until their lips met in a collision of soft smiles, unwavering happiness, and plenty of giggling.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

‘Round Here

Drabble, one shot? Who knows!

"Reader is chased down after crossing the wrong biker.” + Bucky! as requested by anonymous

"Reader walks into the wrong bar." + Bucky as requested by 👀 @navybrat817​

Warning: noncon sex, fingering, unedited.

“Are you serious?” You asked Maddie as you looked around the smoky bar.

The cloud of cigarette smoke was your first hint that this was a dive. Actually, your second as Maddie always managed to find the scummiest places. It truly was a gift. Not an enviable, but nonetheless, a skill.

You sat at a table for two and tried to ignore the leers from the table next to you. You regretted wearing a skirt already. A particularly greasy looking man with a beard to his belly button grumbled something lewd into his beer. You were thankful you hadn’t understood his words, though his tone made his intent clear.

“What do you want?” The terse waitress chewed gum as she approached you with hand on hip. Her leather vest covered a fringed crop top and her skirt was barely longer than that.

“You got tequila?” Maddie asked.

“It’s a bar,” The waitress rolled her eyes and popped her gum.

“No tequila,” You argued with Maddie.

“We’ll have two shots of tequila alongside two rye and gins,” She ignored you and tossed back her curly hair.

“Fine,” The waitress shrugged. “We ain’t got any limes left.”

“Amazing,” Maddie said dryly and smiled at the waitress. You were left with haughty glare and huff.

“I don’t think this is the place to harass the staff, Mads,” You looked around nervously.

“Oh, bleh. You know, my dad used to hang out in places like this.” She trilled. “It was fun. My uncle was even part of the club.” She lowered her voice and leaned over the table. “They don’t like being called a gang.”

“Well, Maddie, I think as a kid you might not have seen the whole picture,” You uttered. “You told me we were going dancing.”

“We dance here,” She paused and listened to the dingy classic rock and bobbed her head. “Yeah, sing it Axel.”

“This is Van Halen, you weirdo,” You hissed.

The waitress returned and set down your drink, paying no heed to the way the spilled over the rim with her force. Maddie offered her a card and was greeted with another sigh. The waitress marched away and returned shortly with the receipt and the card. She flicked it onto the table and took off to the next.

“Alright, if none of these goons kill us, she definitely will,” You shook your head.

Maddie pushed a shot toward you and took hers with a devious smile.

“Have a little fun for once in your life,” She chimed. “Jesus.”

“Fun? Maddie your fun isn’t fun. It’s scary.”

“On three,” She raised her shot. “One, two, three.”

You knocked it back and coughed as you slammed it back down. You hated tequila, not least because of the taste. The last time you had a taste, you remember the inhumanly lean which had you using a chair to stand.

“Mmm,” She looked around for the waitress.

“No more,” You slid one of the rye drinks in front of her. “You got another drink to nurse. I mean it, take it easy. I don’t wanna carry you out of here.”

“Boo,” She took her glass and drank half in a gulp. “Look at all these strong men, they’ll help.”

“You don’t want their help,” You sputtered. “Mads, I mean it. After this drink, we’re finding somewhere else.”

You brought your glass to your lips, irritated, and peered around the bar with a scowl. As much as you worried for your safety, and especially Maddie’s given her lack of a filter, you were tempted to give her a good smack yourself. 

Why did you even trust her anymore? You recalled very clearly her squatting in an alley only a month ago, pissing on the pavement as you tried to figure out where exactly you were. Fun.

You stopped as your gaze met another’s. You blinked and averted your eyes as you lowered your glass. You glanced over your shoulder, foolishly. There was only a wall there. You look at Maddie and smiled nervously.

“Oh man,” She shifted in her seat. “Wish I hadn’t downed that vodka before.”

“What?” You huffed. “Maddie, how much have you had tonight?”

“I dunno but, whew,” She slapped the table. Her glass was empty. “It’s time to break the seal.”

“Wait, I’m almost done, we can go--”

“Nope, too late,” She stood. “I mean it, if I don’t find the bathroom, I’m gonna piss on this chair.”

“Maddie, you always were so eloquent,” You snipped. “Just hurry up.”

She winked and walked away clumsily. She flagged down the grouchy waitress and was pointed towards a doorway on the other side of the bar. You glanced around and again, found the same set of eyes watching you; deep, blue sapphires. You looked down and grabbed your purse. You slipped out your phone and unlocked it.

You pretended to be interested in it as you hugged your purse to you. You just wanted to go. Now.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” The voice had you rigid and your head snapped up as your fingers tightened around your phone. “You need a refill.”

“No, I’m not done,” You grimaced and tapped your glass. “Thank you though. My friend is just--”

“Ah, don’t worry,” He turned to the table next to you and snapped at a man in a skullcap. The man stood and spun his chair to offer to the man. The stranger sat and shuffled the chair closer. “Name’s Bucky.”

You stared at him. You glanced over at the doorway Maddie had disappeared through and swallowed. You gave your name without looking at him and instead checked the time on your phone. You chewed your lip.

“Actually, you know, me and my friend have a reservation.” You said as you rose. “I’ll just go check on her.”

“She didn’t seem in such a hurry.” He stood and blocked you. “What’s the matter? You don’t like me?”

“It’s not-- Look, I’m just… gonna…” You skirted around the table and flitted past him. “I gotta make sure she’s okay.”

You felt him watching you as you wove around the tables, barely missing one with your hip. You ducked through the doorway and found your way to the ladies’. Inside, Maddie was sloppily lathering her hands up in soap.

“Hurry up,” You sneered. “Now. We’re going.”

“Oh, don’t be such a pooper,” She moped.

You reached and shoved her hands under the faucet. You tore a length of paper towel free from the dispenser and forced it into her grasp. You dried your hands and hers, like she was a child, and you pulled her out of the restroom.

You peeked into the barroom then further down the hall. You dragged Maddie down to the fire exit and angled her through into the back alley.

“What’s going on?” She giggled. “You’re acting weird.”

“Mads, look, we couldn’t stay there,” You hurried out to the sidewalk and turned down the street. “We can go wherever you want, drink as much as you want but we’re not staying there. Okay?”

“Fine, fine,” She wrenched her arm away from you. “Jesus, you sound like my mom.”

“Let’s go to Nova.” You coaxed. “Remember when we danced on the table!”

“Oooh,” Her eyes focused. “Okay, but this time you can’t ditch me.”

“I didn’t, you pushed me off,” You elbowed her. “Come on, I think it’s ladies’ night.”

☠

When you got to the club, it was already packed. Even so, Maddie pushed her way to the bar and forced another drink on you. You found a spot on the dance floor but it wasn’t long before she recognized someone else and you were joined by several other girls and even a few boys.

You danced and tried to forget the rocky start to the evening but still found yourself on edge. You set aside your empty cup and tried to get more into the old 90s tune. You spun, almost drunk enough to really get wild, and stopped dead, your arms falling to your sides. 

You squinted through the flashing lights. It was him. That man from the bar. Oh, fuck, he was heading right toward you. He seemed to march across the floor between the bodies, barely flinching as his shoulders were knocked by inebriated dancers. Only a few feet away as he smirked at you.

You turned and dove into the circle of Maddie’s friends. She was too tipsy to notice as she tried to twerk. You pushed past them and tripped as you barrelled into another dancer. You didn’t even apologize as you kept on and headed for the door. You kept low, unable to see if the man was following you through all the bodies.

You got to the back stairwell, marked staff only, that led from one floor to the next. The club had three levels; one for retro, one for modern hits, and the lower floor for rock. You slipped through the door and caught your breath on the other side. You didn’t stop for long as you stumbled down the steps on your chunky heels.

As you tripped and hit the wall, you heard the door open again. You pushed yourself straight and wobbled around the corner to the next flight. You peeked up as the man came into sight. So certain he barely rushed as he descended after you.

You scrambled down the next flight as he got closer. You felt your feet tangle and prepared to fly into the wall face first. He caught the back of your shirt before you could and his arm wrapped around your waist. He stepped down onto even ground behind you.

“Ah, we don’t want that pretty face gettin’ messed up,” He purred as the dull pulse of music came through the wall.

“What do you want?” You grabbed his hand as it crept lower on your stomach.

“I think you know, sweetheart,” He grabbed your hip and turned you around. He pushed you into the wall and pinned you with his other arm across your chest. “You come into my place and won’t even say hello.”

“What are you-- No, I--” 

“Shhhh,” He hushed as he leaned closer, his arm heavy against you as his other hand brushed over your skirt. “You don’t wear this,” His fingers curled under the hem along your thigh. “And not want attention.”

“Stop,” You tried to grab his hand as he ripped your skirt up. “Stop!”

“Go on and yell,” He chuckled. “You think anyone will hear you.”

“Someone will--”

“And what are they gonna do?” 

He shoved his hand against your crotch and kicked his foot between yours. He forced your legs apart and pressed his fingers to your panties. He rubbed you through the thin cotton and you felt as if your chest would collapse as his other arm kept you in place. 

He carefully drew your panties aside and ran his finger between your fold. You gasped and pushed on his shoulder.

“No,” You breathed. “Please--”

“Please,” He growled and added another finger, dragging them back and forth until he felt you slicken. “You don’t sound very convincing, sweetheart.”

He played with your clit and you bit into your lip. It felt good as your drunken wits slaked away easily. As your pleasure overwhelmed your fear. He continued to swirl his fingers around until your breath was thick and shallow.

He poked around your entrance and sank inside. You pushed your head back and moaned. He pulled his fingers in and out as your walls quivered around him. Your hand slipped down his shoulder and his own arm fell from your chest. 

He smoothly undid his fly and pushed his jeans open. He withdrew his fingers from your cunt and grabbed his swollen cock. He grabbed your leg and hiked it up against him as he leaned into you. He guided himself blindly over your fold and crushed your arms between your bodies.

He took you off your feet as he impaled you. You cried out and grasped the front of his leather jacket. Your lips formed an O as you stared into his darkened blue eyes. He thrust as he held your leg against him, rocking to the beat of the music. 

He lifted your other leg and had you propped up against the wall as he sped up. You freed your arms and stretched them across the painted concrete as he crashed into you over and over. You tried to hold in your pathetic whine as the heat of delight mixed with that of the alcohol that seared your stomach. Your eyes rolled back as you came, your purse smack against your side as this man held you at his mercy.

He hissed as his hips stuttered. His fingers pressed into your hips and he trembled. You opened your eyes as he pulled out suddenly and drew a hand back to stroke himself through his climax, his cum spurting onto the skirt bunched up around your waist.

He shuddered and grinned as he looked up at you. He slowly lowered you to your feet, your legs were like jelly. You stood straight, warily and he caught your arm. He spun you to face the concrete and pressed himself against your back as his voice gristled in your ear.

“You don’t really think we’re done here, do you?”

[nalgenewhore]

Oooo can we get uni Rowcan at a formal function of some kind where they’re all dressed up and they just spend the entire night being all 👀😍 at one another?

i just love them ! i do, they’re just so neato burrito. oh also ! this is not uni au - that’s done, but requests are still very welcome ! 

“You’re going to be late,” Rowan says in a sing-song manner. The slightly grainy figure on his phone swears and Rowan presses his lips together to avoid laughing as he buffs out the shimmery green eyeshadow with a fluffy brush. “I told you to get ready earlier.” 

“I was having a nap,” Lorcan says, frowning as he fixes two braids on either side of his head, opting to leave the rest of his lustruous, thick locks tumbling down freely. 

Rowan hums and squints at himself in the mirror, deeming his makeup done. “Work hard today, did you?” 

His best friend sports a fearsome glare at the mention of work. Rowan thinks that his job is the one thing Lorcan truly despises in this world. “I hate it there,” he grumbles, finally done with his hair, which means he can change out of his hoodie and pajama bottoms. 

Though it’s Rowan’s favourite look, when Lorcan’s sleepy and soft, Aelin and Manon will be... less than pleased if Aelin’s ‘man of honour’ shows up looking like he rolled out of bed. 

“You remembered the rings right?” 

Lorcan nods, “Mmhmm. In my suit pocket.” 

“Speaking of suit, shouldn’t you be changing?” asks Rowan, giving a pointed look to the closet door over Lorcan’s shoulder. 

Lorcan rolls his eyes and nods, “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, darling. I’ll be there.”

A stupid grin pulls at Rowan’s lips, blushing as Lorcan calls him ‘darling’. It’s been happening more often lately and his foolish heart trips over itself in its excitement, but Rowan knows Lorcan doesn’t feel that way about him. “I’ll let you go. I have to pick up the boys.” 

“Good luck with that,” Lorcan says, smiling again, his teeth a flash of white against his coppery-brown complexion. He really is beautiful, Rowan thinks as the video call ends, leaving him to stare at his reflection in the black screen. 

He’s in such deep, unending shit. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“I pronounce you woman and wife, you may kiss the bride,” Asterin says, smiling as Manon grabs Aelin and kisses her deeply. 

A glimmer of joy flashes over Lorcan’s face and he searches the intimate seating for Rowan, his heart skipping a beat when he finds his best friend already looking up at him. 

Something heavy shines in Rowan’s green eyes, pinning Lorcan to the spot. He couldn’t look away if he wanted to. 

He isn’t sure how long he’s been in love with Rowan. It didn’t come as a shock, though. It was more... the feeling of coming home, that swelling sensation of familiarity after being away for so long. 

He’s whined about the inconvenience of being in love with one’s best friend to both Aelin and Elide, which means that both Manon - who is Aelin’s wife now - and Elide’s girlfriend, Yrene, know, because neither of his other best friends can keep silent to their respective paramours. 

Lorcan is certain the four of them have discussed it at length, too. Nosy pricks. 

It’s not like they can make Rowan fall in love with Lorcan. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Rowan laughs as he dances with Yrene, spinning the sunny woman around. Her warm smile lights up the room and it’s no surprise when Elide drifts over to steal her girlfriend back. 

“Oh, Ro, sweetheart,” Elide says, spinning back to face him as he’s left alone. “I believe that I ditched Lorcan so...” she makes a shooing motion to the man a few metres away. 

For the millionth time that night alone, Rowan’s gaze slides over Lorcan. His navy suit pairs beautifully with his skin tone. At some point, he ditched the matching tie and opened the first couple buttons, leaving Rowan’s eyes free to catch a glimpse of the smooth skin of his chest. 

Fuck. 

Laughter shines in Lorcan’s eyes and maybe... something else. He’s trying to hide it, Rowan can tell, but it’s impossible for them to hide anything from each other. Almost. “Come sit with me, I’m tired,” Lorcan says. 

Rowan chuckles and follows Lorcan. Lorcan snags an unopened bottle of champagne and guides them to the garden outside. He sits down on the bench, patting the seat beside him, “Right here.” 

He does as he’s directed, his breath hitching when Lorcan spreads his legs, their thighs pressed together. 

Lorcan rips the cork off with his teeth and drinks straight from the bottle. When he passes it to Rowan, Rowan nearly drops it when their fingers brush. 

“You’re being weird,” Lorcan comments.

Rowan swigs from the bottle to avoid answering and they don’t speak again for a while. 

When the bottle is empty, Rowan is too drunk to stop himself as he nuzzles his face into Lorcan’s shoulder. “I like it when you wear suits.” 

Lorcan hums, resting his head on Rowan’s. “I like it when you wear suits.” He moves his hand to grip Rowan’s thigh, his thumb idly stroking his leg. “You’re so pretty, did ya know that?” 

Rowan giggles, turning his head to kiss the underside of Lorcan’s jaw, “You’re so pretty,” he whispers, letting his lips part to taste Lorcan’s skin. He wants to go further and Lorcan lets him. 

Their lips touch and that’s the last thing Rowan remembers. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan wakes up in a familiar bed, but it’s not his. 

Someone lays sprawled across his bare chest and Lorcan looks down in confusion to be greeted by a head of curly silver hair. 

Memories flood back, of drunken kisses in the garden, then being shoved into a cab by someone, then more sloppy making out in the back seat. Rowan had dragged him to his bed and Lorcan... couldn’t remember anything past that. 

He has an idea, given that they’re both naked under the covers, not to mention the condom wrappers littering Rowan’s nightstand. “Oh, shit.” 

Rowan snorts, making a sound in the back of his throat, “Baby, wha?” He pushes himself up, his eyes hazy and bleary. Lorcan’s heart melts at the sight of Rowan so drowsy. The sunlight cuts through the window behind the headboard and hits Rowan’s eyes just right - lighting up the golden flecks in the green irises. “Oh, Lor, it’s you.” 

Without another thought, Rowan slumps back down, resting his head on Lorcan’s chest. “Ro. Rowan.” 

“Mm, what?” 

“Did we...” he trails off, waiting for Rowan to finish his sentence. 

Rowan tenses, moving his head to the side so he can peek out at Lorcan. His pale cheeks pink delicately and he nods, “...yeah. I think so.” He rolls to the side and Lorcan’s arms feel empty, his body cold now. “Should we- sorry. Um, do you want to- talk?” 

Lorcan sits up, leaning against the headboard. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. We’re-“ he blushes, cutting himself off, “best friends and we’re queer, but that doesn’t mean we have to—“

“Lorcan, um, I don’t- I don’t want to be friends,” Rowan admits. “I’m in love with you and I think i have been for a while. I don’t regret last night, Lorcan.” He doesn’t dare voice the question he wants the answer to.

“I’m in love with you too,” Lorcan whispers, smiling softly. “And I don’t regret it either.” He cups Rowan’s face and pulls him towards him. They’re both smiling too widely for it to be a proper or good kiss, but it’s perfect.

Rowan draws away, about to say something when his eyes flick over Lorcan’s shoulder and his face becomes horrified, “Fucking hell, how many times did we fuck?”

Lorcan laughs, glancing back to count, “Um... thrice.”

Rowan hums and pulls Lorcan back to him, kissing him again, “A shame we don’t remember it.”

Lorcan smirks and flips them quickly, swallowing Rowan’s gasp, “Fourth time’s the charm?”

Indeed it is.

@mythicaitt @ladyverena @keshavomit @empress-ofbloodshed @ladywitchling @darklesmylove @shyvioletcat @the-regal-warrior @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @thewayshedreamed

[sprnklersplashes]

driver’s license

post-canon, angst ahoy

She gets her driver’s licence on Saturday.

On Sunday morning, she takes her first drive alone, and it’s to the last place she should go.

The roads are empty, the rest of Sherwood sensibly asleep in their beds. Last night was another sleepless one, bolting up in her bed with her hands clamped over her mouth and her whole body trembling violently, not stopping until she had paced the length and breadth of her bedroom about fifty times. She was wide awake by that point, too shaken by her nightmares to even try to go back to sleep. She sat against the window, head against the wall, watching her breath fogging up the glass, obscuring the perfect picture on the other side.

He was there, of course. He’s always here in the morning, especially when she wakes up like this. She didn’t turn around, didn’t see him, but felt the weight of his gaze on her anyway. Pleading, lonely, begging her to turn around and come back to him. To slip into his arms and get lost in his words again, to let him strip her away with his touch. And the worst part is that she wanted to. She wanted to do it; there’s some magnetic force that still sits in her and it keeps pulling her towards JD even though she knows he’s gone. It becomes a game two of them play and she loses every single time; if she resists, it hurts, and if she gives in… she doesn’t know, she never has, but it can’t end up good.

Her keys were in her hand before she even knew what she was doing, and she was pulling out of the driveway as the sun rises.

She’s not dressed for a drive; a pair of black pyjama bottoms and an old, old blue sweater. It’s one of the things from before she was a Heather and most importantly-something JD had never seen her in. That’s one of the worst things about this, about him. His fingerprints aren’t just over her body, but all over her clothes too. Invisible to everyone except her. Lines run up and down her blazers where he caressed her, the outline of his hand on her skirt where he ripped it off her body. When she first saw him, she thought ‘now there’s a person I’m never going to forget’. Now she’d give anything for that to be wrong.

She doesn’t think she knows where she’s going, not until she turns right at one junction and feels her blood run cold. It’s funny, she thinks. She hasn’t been here in months and yet it still looks exactly the same. She avoided this place like the plague afterwards. She still could. There’s no-one here and no-one checks the traffic cameras here, not in a street like this. She could turn around and head in the other direction, and she should. But the wheels keep turning, slow but still forwards, and her hands stay locked where they are. The steering wheel barely budges.

She must have been on this street before him. She’s lived in this town her whole life and could draw out a map from memory. It’s not that big after all. She has vague recollections of a birthday party happening somewhere around here, and another of a family barbeque on this street. She trick or treated a few times here as well, first with her parents and then with Martha. But all those are irrelevant now. From here on out this will be known as JD’s street and JD’s street only.

She pulls the car into a sloppy park, thankful for the cautious residents keeping their cars in garages, and leans back in her seat. She doesn’t need to turn that much to see the house beside her.

There’s a new family that lives there now. A mom and dad and two elementary school kids. Both girls. One with dark curly hair in pigtails and the other with a black ponytail, secured with a ribbon. She had watched them the first day they moved in, laughing together, the dad tugging on the girls’ pigtails, the mom organising the move in. What must it be like inside now, with boxes unpacked and furniture sitting proudly. A home, not just a house. A place big enough for all of them. It must have been excited, to have so many of its rooms used.

That’s what struck Veronica when she first went over with him. How big it was, for a family of two. She shakes her head. You could hardly call JD and his father a “family”. Not because of their size, but because of them. They were barely even acquaintances. They merely lived under the same roof and shared the same blood; that was the beginning and end of their relationship. Veronica had wondered why Big Bud Dean had chosen this house, how much it must have cost him, and it was only a week or so ago she had realised; he didn’t care. Why would he, when he’d just leave in the next three months anyway? He picked the first available place, and it just so happened to be a family home.

She had watched him leaving. She swears to herself she isn’t a stalker, but she’s finding that harder and harder to believe. What would you call someone who goes through hoops to find out the day and hour a man is moving out of his house and then skips school just to stand on the street and watch him? What must he think of her, that is, if he even noticed her at all. Too busy wrapped up in himself to notice other people, that’s what JD always said about his father. There’s not a lot she agrees with JD on, but she has to give him that.

She pulls her sweater tighter around herself and blinks, her eyes suddenly stinging and blurry. The last time she went over there, really went over there, rather than hovering on the other side of the street, was the day it happened. She had walked up to that door with ash in her hair and blood on her face, and knocked three times before he had answered. He regarded her with this cool, confused glance, as though he was trying to remember when he had seen her before, and she had bitten her tongue and watched as realisation dawned on his face.

“You’re Jason’s girl, aren’t you?” he had asked. That was the first time she had heard him say his son’s name, she realised. Their little game must end whenever JD wasn’t around. He took a long drink of his beer then and shrugged at her. “Whaddya want?”

Her nails had dug into her palms, leaving burning red marks, and she just about manged to say “your son’s dead” through her tight throat, tears plink-plonking down her face.

He blinked at her, a moment passed, and then another, before he let out an unimpressed-sounding “really?”.

She does wonder what would have happened if Heather Duke hadn’t stumbled upon her at that moment and dragged her away from him, kicking and screaming and swearing all the way down. She pulls her sweater tighter around her. Her throat hurts at the memory. The entire street had come out to see the commotion and what little good standing she still had blew away like dust. Good, straight-A, Harvard bound Veronica had screamed “go fuck yourself” at a seemingly innocent man who just lost his son.

She doesn’t regret it though.

The first hues of blue appear around the edges of the sky now, but according to her clock it’s still far too early for her parents to be up. Her body goes limp in the seat, her head falling to the side, and her eyes flicker up to the window on the second-floor window. On the day they moved in, she saw the light go on in that bedroom and the pink paint going up on the walls. One of the young girls is using it as her room now, and she almost laughs. She plays with her dolls, no idea what two stupid kids did in there, oblivious to how he had pinned her against that wall and she had stripped him down, shivering as he whispered “you’re mine” in her ear.

Or about the soft, stolen kisses they shared on his bed at night, the two of them lying on his bed, their eyes on the ceiling, and talking about the future. Their future, he had said. Where she would go to college and where he would go. Where they should move to, because Veronica was adamant she wasn’t staying in Sherwood forever. And when they’d get their driver’s licences.

“I want mine as soon as I can,” she had told him. “I’ve been dreaming about it since forever. I’ve practiced in my dad’s car.”

“I was wondering how that dent got there,” he had said. She elbowed him in the ribs for that comment. “Suppose I don’t need to. I have my bike.”

“You have a licence for that thing, right?” She turned to him then, studying his profile and feeling a lingering sense of doubt in the back of her mind. That feeling always accompanied them wherever they went, like the hangover to the ecstasy his touch brought. “JD?”

“Course I do, Ronnie,” he had told her, and he pulled her against his chest. “You think I’d take my favourite girl on a bike if I didn’t have a licence for it?”

His favourite girl. He didn’t call her that a lot, maybe once or twice in their entire short-lived relationship, but damn did she love it. He was like that. Good at making her feel special. Like she was made of something precious. Diamonds in her eyes, gold in her veins. To him, she was better than every other girl around and she’s so, so ashamed of the fact that she liked that.

But how much did he really value her in the end?    

She slams her hand on the dashboard, hard, and cries out as the dull pain pulses beneath her skin. Tears run down her face, replacing those from earlier this morning. Those haven’t yet dried. She tucks her knees up against her chest, burying her face in them so that the sound of her cries is muffled. She doesn’t know why; not like anyone is awake at this point to be disturbed by a stupid girl like her crying in her car.

He swore he loved her. Over and over again and you’d think that the words would wear themselves out but they never did. They just kept getting bigger and he kept burning hotter and brighter until he scorched her hands when she tried to touch him. He had whispered it reverently into her hair as she slept and murmured it against her lips and even in that house, with the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her, he said it. That was the moment she realised it wasn’t true. Somewhere amongst the pain and the confusion and the splitting headache she looked at him, and she looked at the gun, and asked herself, how could his lips say he loves her while his hand is ready to kill her? Not that he needed a gun to kill her. Maybe he knew that, and so the gun was just to play with her.

He had promised her. That’s the part that hurts more than anything else. The promise he broke, and how he used those jagged edges to cut her open. He promised her he was going to change, swore to her on the love he claimed was God. JD was nothing if not passionate, and for all she knew he meant that at the time. Or maybe he didn’t, and it was all just a game to him. It’s been so long now and it’s still so hard to tell.

She sobs again, a heavy pain tugging on her torn-apart heart. She’s an idiot, and a fool, and a fucking moron and every other damn thing Heather Chandler has called her these past months. Not that she had much of a backbone before but now she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed at her. Because it’s true. Because what kind of person lives through all that, lives through JD and all manipulation and all his lies, and watches as he points a gun at her with nothing but coldness in his eyes, and is still in love with him after that? How does she spring awake from nightmares in the morning and spend the afternoon missing the feeling of his lips against hers? If she loves JD, despite everything he was, then what kind of person does that make her? What gives her the right to lie awake at night and mourn the future she would never have, when three people are cold in their graves because of him?

Her hand finds its way to the glove compartment and suddenly the little plastic card is in her hand, her eyes staring up at her. No-one has commented on it but surely everyone sees it; the look in her eyes that’s hung around ever since that day. She flinches sometimes, when she sees herself in the mirror. What’s become of her; thin, hollow cheeks and shadows beneath her dull, dead eyes, clothes hanging off her shoulders. JD didn’t just end his life when he took that bomb. She might still be breathing, but most days it feels like that’s all she’s doing.

She slams her hand on the dashboard again, and then it happens again, and again and again until she’s banging against it in a fierce, fast rhythm, her mouth open and a burning, broken scream pouring out of it. It tears out of her throt and fills the car, shaking the glass in the windows and ringing in her ears. This isn’t how it was supposed to have happened. She was supposed to run out of the DMV and into his waiting arms, have her feet swept off the ground as he tells her how proud he is of her. She was supposed to drive through the streets with him in the passenger’s seat, sneaking sideways glances at him as the wind tousled his hair. They were supposed to drive up to the hill together and sit over the town, her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her, making more stupid plans for the future. She was meant to tease him about getting her licence first and he was meant to roll his eyes and kiss her to shut up her up. He should have been something else, and she should be waking up with butterflies in her stomach rather than lead in her lungs.

She sits back and shakes her head at herself. Her hand is red and pulsing with pain from where she smacked it. She’s ridiculous. Since when does she have the right to decide what was ‘meant’ to happen? JD thought that. He declared it on the other side of her closet door- “I was meant to be yours, we were meant to be one”. As far as he was concerned, the universe is, was, theirs, and they were the masters over what happened in it. And she’s not that person, she’s dragging herself away from being that person every day, even if it means her nails are caked with blood and dirt. She doesn’t get to choose what happens, not or herself or anyone, and she doesn’t get to sit here and claim what that he should have been something different.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.  

Her mom told her she’d love someone again, a few weeks after the pep rally when she was in a particularly bad state of mind. She had sat on the edge of her bed and run her fingers through her hair and told her that he might have been the first, but he wouldn’t be the last. Her heart won’t be broken forever. She had nodded and murmured something in agreement, and waited until her mom smiled and patted her head before she left. What her mom doesn’t know is that JD didn’t break her heart-he put a bomb in it and blew it up. And whatever she felt for him, there’ll be no feeling it for anyone ever again.

She looks back over at the house. There’s a light on in the kitchen and she slides lower in the seat, despite being safe from view already. Who could it be? The dad maybe, or the mom, getting ready for the day ahead, or maybe one of the kids catching the morning cartoons or treating themselves to cookies for breakfast. It doesn’t really matter, what matters is they’re in that house now and neither Jason nor Big Bud Dean are. For better or worse, there’s no trace of him left in Sherwood, Ohio, not except her memories and one page in the yearbook. One day she’ll make peace with that fact.

She turns the key in the ignition and the car rumbles into life again, annoyed after being neglected for so long. She lets out a long, steady breath, the last of her tears running down her face like rain down her windshield. She turns the wheel, peels away from the kerb, and hopes she’ll never come back to this street for as long as she lives. She doesn’t know if her heart can take it again.

[megacovenimagines]

👀Part 1 of 3: I love your blog 🙀💕 I was lurking all over it last night. Would I be able to get a male match up please? I'm female, with long green hair side shaved. My hair is very curly naturally but I usually straighten it otherwise it kind of gives off Krusty the clown vibes.. I'm a virgo. I have a few piercings and tattoos. I'm very confident. I love to joke around and make my friends laugh. I like to be around people who can make me laugh too.

♡ Thank you very much I greatly appreciate that ♡

(★ Parts 2 & 3 of info is posted at the bottom of this post.)

❣ Your Match is Gabriel

Gabriel is very easy going, protective, caring and fun loving, he tends to make light out of most situations and can become bored easily. He doesn’t push a relationship on you but things can develop fairly quickly with him simply because he tends to get straight to the point, he won’t really like beating around the bush or not knowing where he stands with you. But he won’t push or pressure you into anything you aren’t comfortable or ready for, if you seem uncomfortable with anything at any point, he eases up a lot or slow things down in the relationship without you even needing to say anything.

He can be kind of hard to figure out or pin down initially because he can seem uninterested in an actual relationship, but that’s not really the case it’s just that he can be fairly emotionally guarded and may even seem to try and keep you at arm’s length or deflect questions with humor. 

This is because he worries if he gets close to you or falls in love with you, he could put you in danger, you could get hurt or maybe you could betray him, he’s been hurt before which makes him cautious now. But it doesn’t actually take very long for him to begin falling for you and he’ll slowly start making his feelings for you pretty clear, but he won’t straight up confess his feelings for you openly unless he absolutely has to. Like if you question him about his feelings or if you threaten to leave, then he’ll feel like he has no choice but to be completely honest with you.

He is very protective over you and will go to great lengths to keep you safe, he can become very serious and spiteful towards anyone who does you wrong or even criticizes you. Even to the extent of being rather cruel to people even for rather minor things, but that’s just how protective he can be over you and will feel the need to really send a message to anyone who messes with you. Even if you can handle yourself and stand up for yourself, he’ll let you, but is very likely to still get revenge on them behind your back and you may never even find out about it. However; you can kind of be the same way by going out of your way to be mean to people your friends don’t like if you know it could make them feel better. Gabriel can just take things a little further than you might and be a bit more aggressive or hostile.

He adores your looks and style from your hair style and color to your piercings and tattoos, but at the same time he doesn’t make a big deal about it either. He’s not going to rave about how cool or beautiful you are because of your hair and tattoos; he’ll just tell you how beautiful and cool you are as a whole. Which he will compliment you pretty frequently and at random times, you won’t even have to change how you look or anything to receive a compliment because he always adores you and isn’t afraid to tell you. He will show curiosity about your appearance preferences though, maybe asking you when you got your tattoos and piercings, why you wanted them, where the ideas for your tattoos came from etc, and this is just because he’ll want to know more about you.

You are both very confident and enjoy having a good time, making others laugh and being around people who can make you laugh. This is just one of the reasons the two of you will get along really well, because if you’re feeling down, he will try to cheer you up and make you laugh and you’ll do the same for him. He doesn’t like being serious for too long or being upset which is why he generally is very upbeat and easy going, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be calm and serious. When it comes to serious matters, he can set aside his immature and joking nature, he is a really good listener when he wants to be especially when it comes to you. He can also be very supportive and comforting towards you he won’t like seeing you sad or upset, and if there’s something you need to vent about or talk to him about, he can be very patient and hear you out. He may not always be the best at giving advice especially depending on what your problems are, but he will always be there for you to talk to and vent your frustrations.

He’ll press you to open up to him and tell him what’s on your mind because he is very good at picking up on body language and reading you like a book; he can tell within a few seconds if something is off. He can go from very happy and cheerful to serious when he picks up on something being not right with you, even if you think you are doing a great job at hiding it, he’ll still see through you and won’t drop it until you tell him what’s going on. Even if you try to make fun of your situation or joke about things to lighten the situation, he won’t let you get away with it, and he can tell when something serious happened and your mentally/emotionally hurt versus you’re just having a bad day. 

This means days when you are feeling down or depressed, he’ll have your back and do what he can to help you through your depression, whether it’s trying to cheer you up, listening to you or just lying around quietly with you all day, he’ll do what he can to help you through it. This also makes him very attentive to you and even quite clingy at times, even more so if he’s bored or if you’re busy and wants your attention. He pays a lot of attention to you in every way, showing an interest in you, your hobbies, your interests, your appearance, etc. He can even be a little overbearing at times but he likes spending time with you and showering you with attention, especially if he learns you actually enjoy the attention.

Gabriel will show a genuine curiosity in your hobbies especially the more unique hobbies or skills you have such as fire eating, he’ll like to see you do it as well as have real questions about why you started it, when you got into it and such. He genuinely does take an interest in you and will like learning about you as a whole, what made you turn out the way you are, why you like the things you like, which can make him ask a lot of deep and personal questions sometimes at completely random times. But it can also make him see kind of nosy at times because he likes to see what your doing, what you’re drawing etc. He enjoys spending time with you and doesn’t really like to be away from you, because he really does love being with you but also likes to keep you near incase anything were to happen and you needed to be protected. 

He is very outgoing and will try just about anything and he can really push you out of your comfort zone as well because he’ll like experiencing and trying new things with you. Going out, going to concerts, ice skating, amusement parks, festivals, restaurants etc, he’ll be up for anything and likes to make stuff happen, so if you mention an idea of wanting to do something, trying something or going somewhere he’ll make it happen and pretty quickly after you mentioned it too. He does like action and adventure but can also go through lazy spurts where he’ll be perfectly comfortable staying home with you binge watching trash tv, horror movies or just about anything else because he can be a big tv show and movie junkie.

Is very romantic and affectionate with you right from day one, though can be more cheesy in the beginning with some funny, some lame pick up lines. Which is mostly because he’s trying to make you smile or laugh so he really doesn’t care what kind of cheesy lines he has to use if he can make you smile. But he really can be genuinely romantic when he wants to be its just that he tends to sway between cheesy or romantic depending on what gets a better reaction from you. If making you laugh with pick up lines gets a better reaction from you then trying to sweep you off your feet with poetry and flowers that’s what he’ll go to. He is loving and affectionate with you hugging you often, holding your hand, cuddling up with you and he can be clingy when it comes to cuddles and won’t want to let you go from cuddling or hugs for that matter.

Overall, he is very loyal, protective and loving he’ll do just about anything to make you smile no matter the cost and will really go out of his way to give you anything you want or take you anywhere you want to go. He can be over protective or overbearing sometimes because he doesn’t like being away from you, he can also get jealous extremely easily and can become hostile towards anyone that might flirt with you or just get to close to you in general excluding friends or family of yours. He’ll have your back in any situation and will keep you safe even if he has to sacrifice himself to do so, your happiness and safety will be the most important thing to him.

❣ Headcanons of the Relationship

● Will spoil you quite a bit with attention, affection and physical gifts. He tries to surprise you with gifts randomly but will go all out for holidays or special occasions, he usually aims his gifts towards stuff he knows you like or things you collect. But can also go for the generic romantic gifts like jewelry, flowers, chocolate, etc.

● Arguments between the two of you are rare but when they do happen, they can be rather childish and petty, almost like two toddlers fighting. But neither of you hold a grudge and get over things really quickly, practically forgetting what the fight was even about to begin with.

● Will adore your pet parrot, particularly because it’s a more unique pet than just a cat or dog, and that doesn’t mean he hates other animals but he’ll like that you chose something more unusual than a dog. Though if you let your parrot sit on you like on your shoulder you will receive a lot of pirate related jokes and pick-up lines.

● He tends to hold your hand a lot when walking with you and will play with your hair, touch your arms or you knees when sitting next to you or even trace the outlines of your tattoos (if they’re on your arms and legs). He can become more touchy when he’s trying to get your attention, like if you are reading a book he may play with your hair or run his finger tips up your arm to try and win over your attention.

❣ Other Matches

● Lucifer is affectionate, overly protective and likes to have fun, however; his ideas of fun can be more on the sadistic side, though not so much directed at you but bystanders. Though he can be pretty tame when he wants to be especially when he’s trying to get your attention or win you over, but once he starts falling for you, he can be very over protective to the extent of killing someone in the blink of an eye just for looking at you the wrong way. Which he won’t see any problems with and will feel like his behavior is always completely justified, especially when he feels like he’s doing something for you. He is laid back, fun loving and sarcastic he’ll like making you laugh but his humor can be pretty far on the dark side, to the extent that he may be over all too dark, sadistic and aggressive for your liking.

● Chuck is very laid back, loving and on the lazy side, he can be completely comfortable staying home with you watching movies, binge watching tv shows or listening to music all day. Though he can be fairly judgmental with shows, movies and music and can be quite clear about it when he doesn’t like something like a bad story plot in a movie, to the point where he won’t even want to finish watching a movie if he thinks its bad. He likes your confidence and sense of humor which can make him smile, and he’ll like seeing you happy. He can become extremely jealous and won’t like you spending a lot of time with others even to the extent that he can come across as very controlling at times but that’s really only because he cares about you so much. He also has a hard time admitting when he’s wrong which means arguments can be pretty extreme because he’s unwilling to admit to his flaws.

-- ✚ Parts 2 and 3 of information from asks are posted below ✚ --

👀Part 2 of 3: I do fire eating as a hobby and I play the drums. I kind of low key like attention even when I act like I dont. And I really love cheesy pick up lines especially if they're funny. I also like to draw, go ice skating, go to concerts, watch horror movies, binge watch trash TV or just lay around listening to music. I have a pet parrot whom I love very much. As far as negative traits go I have some depression issues but I try my best to make light of it and joke about my problems. 👀Part 3 of 3: I can go out of my way to be an asshole to people my friends don't like if I think it will make my friend happy or laugh. I also get moody easily and can be a petty little gremlin when I'm mad but I get over things pretty quickly because most of all I just want to have fun. Oops 😵 sorry that was so long.

[lonelyreputation]

C’est Toi (coffee shop au) • PROLOGUE, wc: 1.4k

Wednesday - January 02, 2019 - 18:31

There’s a lot of people watching at an airport.  The thought always crosses my mind––who is returning from a trip?  Did they enjoy it?  Or are they dreading returning home?Who just left the comfort of their own home? Are they sad?  Elated?  Well, I guess that’s more than just one thought.  I still have an hour until my flight.  Why is it required to be at the airport hours before an international flight?  Just another thought to tack on.

“Oh, sweetie,” McLane’s mother wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, “I cannot believe you’re off for another semester!”

McLane let out a breathy laugh, squeezing her eyes as tight as her mother’s hug as to not let any tears spill over, “Yeah,” it was a weak response, McLane knew it, but she didn’t want to cry during her send off, she promised herself she wouldn’t cry, “another.”

Easing her way out of the hug, McLane’s mom held her daughter away at arms length, with her hands softly rubbing her shoulders, “London, oh goodness, how’d you manage to convince us on that, Mick?”

Shrugging her shoulders, McLane abandoned her mother’s soft gaze to stare at her suitcase.  One large suitcase to stowaway under the plane, one carry on for the overhead bin, and her back pack.  McLane’s stare soon hardened into a glare at her luggage––she swore they were mocking her and that they knew she was forgetting something.

“Yeah, Mick,” William, McLane’s twin brother raised an eyebrow, “How’d the golden girl manage to escape for a semester?”

McLane let out a genuine laugh as her mother whipped her head to the side and glared at her son as their father lovingly hit him on the back side of the head.  William gave his father a side-eye and rubbed the back of his head.  He rolled his eyes, stood up straight, and opened both of his arms wide, “Gonna miss my golden girl.”

It was a curious thing––William and McLane––while they were twins, they looked nothing like siblings.  William stood at six feet tall, while McLane was five foot and three inches.  William inherited his mother’s blonde curly hair and green eyes, and McLane had her father’s pin straight brunette hair and blue eyes.  Physically they didn’t look like each other, but they were almost identical in personality.

Once McLane felt her mother’s hands drop from her shoulder, she barreled into her brother’s open arms.  She clutched to the back of his red Maryland flag t-shirt as he soothingly ran his hands along her back.  She took in a shaky breath as her brother’s fingers continued to ghost over her back.  

How was she going to survive a semester abroad?

She and William didn’t attend the same college, but she would road trip every spring to watch his lacrosse games at Duke, and he would road trip to see her at least once a semester at the University of Virginia.  Between their road trips seeing each other and traveling home for the holidays, they always saw each other a minimum of four times a semester.  But with a plane ticket to London being more expensive than a five hour car ride, it would be a different semester for both of them.

“You should probably check your bag then get in line for security,” McLane turned her head to the side to see her father looking down at his watch, “Wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.”

At the mention of her departure, McLane’s fist tightened around her brother’s shirt and she buried her head back into his chest.  William tightened his hold on his sister.  He knew his sister better than anyone else, and he knew just how bad she wanted to study abroad.  Ever since she was thirteen, he vividly remembered their summers when they shared a room at their grandmother’s beach house in Ocean City, Maryland and how she would stay up for hours talking his ear off about studying abroad.

William kissed the top of her head and whispered, “This is all you’ve ever wanted––it’s literally just hours away now.”

McLane nodded and once she got her breathing under control, she let go of her brother’s shirt and quickly wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm.  She took four deep breaths before speaking, “I––I’ll just miss you so much,” She sniffled, “You know how I am with goodbyes.”

William smiled down at his sister and patter her head.  She narrowed her eyes at him.

“We’ll be here when you get back, idiot.”

“William.”

William turned to his chastising mother as he held his hands up in surrender, chuckling, “It’s a term of endearment.”

“No name calling,” Their mother glared at him before bringing her fingers up to her temple to rub them, “I swear you’re the reason why Daisy back talks so often.”

McLane snorted, “She’s fifteen, she’s at the worst age.”

“Lucky you for escaping.”

The twins shared a beaming smile with each other before turning to their mother with the same shit-eating grin. The one that always got them out of trouble.  She looked at her kids with a hard stare, but traded in her faux hardness for a tender gaze, “I miss you both so much when you go away.”

“I’ll still be around to bother you.” 

“William’s very good at that,” McLane nodded her head with a tone that said she wasn’t messing around, but playful enough to earn her a forehead flick from her twin.

“Hey––“

“Mick,” It was their father who interrupted before any of their shenanigans started.  He held up her book bag in one hand with a solemn look on his face, “It’s time.”

It was like the past few minutes of playing around with her brother evaporated.  Her throat went dry, palms sweaty, and she felt the familiar prickle behind her eyes start back up.

Turning away from her brother, McLane took a few steps toward her dad, took her backpack from him and gave him a hug.  It was a quick hug––their father wasn’t much of a touchy feely sort of guy with his emotions––but she knew she was loved.  He kissed her head before taking her larger suitcase and rolling it towards her, “I’ll help you check your bag.”  That was his way of saying everything will be alright.  She nodded her head.

She wished checking her bag took longer.  She wanted to prolong her family time for as much as she could––five months she would be without them––five months too long.

When McLane and her father reached back to where William and her mother stood, she gripped the strap of her backpack and took her carryon suitcase from her mother.  She swallowed down a cry, “I––I’lll––See you later?”

McLane looked at everyones expression.  Her mother’s eyes were rimmed in redness as she gave a tight-lipped quivering smile, her father sent her a nod and a soft smile, and William was beaming ear to ear.  She returned his grin and took her passport out from her sweatshirt pocket, flipping the book between her fingers, and with one final smile––a genuine smile––she spun around and headed for the security line.

“Hey, Mick!”

McLane stopped right before the black barrier and scrunched up her eyebrows at her brother’s voice.  His hands were cupped around his mouth––very unnecessary, she thought, because she wasn’t that far away from him.

“You won’t want to come home by the time you’re finished!”

With a roll of her eyes she shook her head.  There would be nothing that would make her not want to come back to her family.  They were her everything.  Sure––William could be a nuisance, her mother could nag her to death, her father brought up post-graduate plans every chance he got, and Daisy was at the God awful stage where everything revolved around her as the world simultaneously hated her––but she wouldn’t trade them in for the world.

So as she handed her ticket and passport to the TSA officer, put her luggage on the conveyor belt, took her shoes off, and walked through the metal detector, she looked back one last time.  Her father cradled her mother into his side as she sobbed into his shoulder and William looked at her with a smirk and a glimmer in his eyes that spoke volumes of him being certain she wouldn’t want to return home.

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off.

a/n: Coffee shop AU! Coffee shop AU!!!! Woot! I’ve been working/planning this for quite sometime! Exciting stuff coming in the future!! 

And while Shawn isn’t ~in this chapter, he WILL be in the next chapter!! This is just some background so you get the gist of McLane! Let me know what you thought of this / what you think is gonna happen in the future! Whoop whoop!  

I’m still also filling out requests so keep your eyes peeled for a baker!Shawn AU, unrequited love piece, and a jealous!Shawn 👀

[robertdowneyhiddlesbatch]

Chapter 4: Purpose

warnings: anatomy/talk of sex

Myrena was expecting an earth shattering roar to wake her, buried under the collapsed mountain. She was happily surprised to find herself awoken in bed by the sound of birds. She stared up into the abyss, listening to their twitters and tapping beaks. Myrena had no way to tell what time of day it was from deep within a mountain. After a while, she forced herself out of bed and dragged her feet to the giant basin of water. The water was unforgivingly cold on her face, but she needed that to wake up. Myrena left the room after washing up, ready to start her day. 

This round, she took her time to look around her surroundings. They were underground; the ceiling probably reaching beyond the skies if she had to guess. It was perhaps a kingdom of some race back in its day. A hundred chambers lined this way and that; ruins of stairs going all the way up and all the way down. This place was a shadow of its former glory, she'd guess. Of course, with a dragon living in it now, nothing else could. Speaking of, Myrena wondered where her host had gone to.

She picked a random room of choice, and to her joy found a great big window. Myrena ran to it and stepped out on the terrace. Oh was the morning breeze a blessing! Having closed her eyes to enjoy the cool, she opened them again to look out. In front of her was a clearing, beyond which began the forest. To its left was a lake. Myrena felt as if she were a child again. Gathering her inner strength in a deep breath, she ran and leapt to the terrace next door. 

Her landing was successful, but her wounds from yesterday punished her. Ignoring the stings, Myrna continued running and leaping till the lake was front and center. She closed her eyes again, feeling the wind blow the water gently in her face. Suddenly, the air froze and her eyes snapped open, danger looming. Myrena leaned over the railing, watching the water rumble. Then without warning, a red flash leapt out of the lake, showering her with lake water. It would have been more fun if fish weren't part of that experience.

"You're awake!" She was sure the voice boomed across the world.

"What are you doing?'' she screamed up at Smaug.

"Going. For. A dip." He answered as he twirled higher up, showering her more.

Myrena laughed and waved him off, going back in to change her clothes. 

There was a pile of clothes in another part of her room. Myrena didn't dare think where the dragon could have picked them up from. As she began to take off her soaking dress, the cloth weighed heavy on her shoulders, causing her body to ache. She grunted as she used her strength to push the sleeve down her shoulder, the wound on her oblique stinging painfully.

"Need a hand?"

Myrena yelped as she turned to face Smaug standing in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, wearing his red coat and black leather pants again. The only sign that he'd been in the water was the curly hair on his head, sticking to his forehead.

"Um, I know this is your home, but can't a girl have some privacy?" Myrena was half serious as she covered her chest.

Smaug laughed a throaty laugh that went up the caverns of the room. 

"And who, may I ask, bound you in the first place?" He curiously pointed at her with a knuckle.

Myrena looked down herself. Her wounds had been patched and wrapped, and the dress on her shoulders was not her own. Her cheeks stung with shame. 

"You've... seen me. Naked."

"Ah, only to necessity. You seem to forget I am not man, your human hesitations do not apply to me."

"Right. Well then, Mr. Dragon. I've soaked through my dress and bandages thanks to you. So if you wouldn't mind?"

She teased him and stood up to stand toe to toe with him, suggesting he undo the strings on her torso. Smaug smirked and grabbed the top of her dress, and in one go, ripped it straight down the middle. She instinctively moved her arms to cover her chest and groin, but found it silly. Her breast wrappings from days ago was still bound tightly around her chest, and her underwear was also still on, though both were threatening to fall from the weight of the water. For a dragon, Smaug was pretty chivalrous. 

"I need to take them off." Myrena simply told him and turned away, back towards the bed. 

The end of the wrap was tucked into the binding just below her left armpit. But her right shoulder killed her as she reached to the other side to peel it off. It took the breath out of her just the first unwrapping, and she rested after it.

"Need a hand?" Smaug asked again as he came behind her.

"No! Don't rip it! I don't assume you've got more under wraps?"

"Never needed them."

Myrena laughed. 

"Great. I'll just..." she reached for it again, now hanging below her right arm, straining as she did. Smaug huffed and grabbed it instead, unwrapping it all the way. 

"Darn." Myrena exhaled instead of thanking him. "The bandages."

"I've done it before," Smaug offered.

"Thank you. But I had my wrap on then. Now I don't..." she squealed before she could finish. Smaug had grown tired and, turning her around, lifted her in his arms and placed her on the bed. 

"For the last time, and you remember it well, now. I am a dragon. I don't care for your human trivialities. Either you can shut up and let me do you, which isn't something I do for anyone else, or you can suffer in your pain and help yourself!" Smaug told her all in one breath, and Myrena watched him, too stunned to speak. 

"I'll take your silence for your consent. Now, I'll warn you. It may sting a little." 

That was his only warning as he began to redo her bandages. She hissed when he dabbed the healing potions on her wounds, but never complained. 

"Thank you," Myrena said when he was almost done.

Smaug half smiled. "I was beginning to think you were the ungrateful kind. It takes you a minute to appreciate." He stepped back when his work was done. 

Myrena stood up to put on the dress, thankful that this one didn't have strings. It did have buttons on the back of the collar, which she could no doubt ask Smaug to do for her. Smaug's kindness had reached its cap and he let her get the dress on herself. It took her longer than usual, but eventually she got it on. As she was dressing, Myrena noticed Smaug play with a bird. The little thing flittered around his head then came to sit on his offered finger.

"You don't eat birds?"

"Eat birds?" He turned her way. "Why would I eat birds? Do you think a bird would satisfy me?"

Myrena suddenly remembered the night she'd seen his dragon form. He'd eaten all her assailants, and her horse too. 

"You'd have to eat a whole forest."

"Eh, I wouldn't. Birds clean my teeth for me, eating the stuff stuck in between. Kind of a co dependent relationship."

"Interesting. Speaking of eating..." she looked guiltily at him.

"Right. Any interest in fish?" He lead her out of the room.

Myrena laughed, realizing he meant the ones that he'd 'given' her in the morning. 

"As long as it's cooked." She followed him into the terrace room.

The terrace was still wet, with a heap of fish lying about. The room had a furnace as well, on which she could cook her breakfast. Myrena collected the better looking fish and brought them into the room. She cut off their heads with the blade she'd brought with her, and fixed them on to the spit.

"Can you, light the fire?" She curiously asked him, wondering if he'd have to turn into his full form.

Thankfully, he didn't. Smaug went up to the furnace and crouched next to it. Then he took in a big breath and blew, hot streams of fire coming up from his throat and lighting the coal. Myrena sat opposite him, turning the spit. 

"Does that not burn you? In your human form?"

"Not really. It feels like it always does. A tickle in the back of the throat."

As he went on describing it, Myrena got up and brought more fish from the terrace, replacing the cooked ones with some of the raw. 

"You said I'm the only one you've ever helped."

"Hmm?" 

"Back in the room, you said I was the only person you were ever going to help. What makes me so special?"

Smaug mused. "I've been stalking your legend, ghost bride. The night you first saw me was not the first time I'd seen you."

"And you decided I was helpless?" She playfully suggested while popping a piece of fish in her mouth. 

Smaug laughed. "No, you're quite the opposite really. I decided..." he paused for effect, "that you would be my mate."

Her eyes grew ten fold. "I... Because I look like a dragon?"

"Metaphorically. You've got dragon traits; the solitude, the strength, the determination." Smaug had golfed down his second raw fish.

"When you say mate. I assume, would include... the act..." Myrena blushed.

"Yes." Smaug stated matter of factly.

"In your human form of course?" There was no possible other way.

"Initially." He stated.

"Initially?!" She choked. "You think you'd fit?" Her legs reflexively closed. 

"Hah! Mortal, I have talons longer than your arms." 

The red of her cheeks reached the tip of her ears. 

"Oh! We can't be possible! I'm afraid just thinking about it!"

"Lovely! You're just worried about the length. The barbs would be no trouble for you, yes?"

"B-barbs? There are... barbs?! They'll cut!"

"They serve their purpose. When we mate for the first time, the barbs will surely cut you, but that'll allow my seed to get into your blood." He ate. "As my mate, you'll need to be changed, my chemicals would have to bind with yours, change your chemistry. Make you turn."

His mouth made a clicking sound, releasing his fangs which startled Myrena.

"My fangs will release a venom in your blood..."

"But venom kills."

"Yes. But with my seed running in your blood as well, the two will work to match your chemistry to mine."

"What if I object?"

"You don't have the choice. It'll be easier for you to accept your fate."

"So what?" Myrena stormed up, and Smaug followed suit. "You'll force me to marry you? Subject me to you? Like, like him?"

Smaug growled and roughly pinned her next to the fireplace. 

"iiigh am not like other men! You have no master except Smaug!" He bellowed, but calmed for the next part of his dialogue, though the anger was still there. "I will only force you to be my mate, and the sire bond that will be between us. But beyond that, you'll go about as you always have: with your free will."

Angry as he was, no one had ever offered her the life this dragon currently was. It may have been his mating instinct talking, but she'd trade her whole town for this dragon. 

"What if, I don't know?" She meekly asked.

"Don't know what?"

"How to... how to mate."

Smaug laughed a deep laugh.

"You don't know how to mate?"

"Well I get the basic sense of it, but I don't know all the rituals."

"We dragons just, get it in, let it out and done." He finally let go and walked back to his seat.

Myrena laughed. "Well that's very banal! I hope that's not how humans do it."

"Your mother never taught you?"

Myrena stalled in her step, then took her seat before answering.

"My mother died before I was of age."

"I'm... sorry." Smaug said mutely. "I picked up the sentiment from watching mortals for quite some time." He explained when she gave him a puzzled look. "Who else is in your pride?"

"My family? Well, I'm the oldest of three. There's Beorn after me, then Feomer. The both of them took after our father, greedy and evil and insults to our race! But then there was Quince. Oh, little Quincy! He was born... different. The other two didn't accept him, neither did our father. But mother and I loved him. He was all I had after mother died. I took him to the monks before my wedding."

"Wedding." Smaug stated the word, but his heart burned with the thought. "You married?" He got off his seat, heading for the door. 

Myrena suddenly remembered back two minutes ago when he'd proclaimed her as his mate. She felt bad for him, for the two of them, and followed after.

"Only the ceremony. We never consummated."

"I suppose you need more of your clothes." Smaug changed the topic. "There's a town by the foot of the mountain on the other side. You're welcome to visit it if you like." He told her and turned away towards his treasury.

"I will. Thanks for letting me know." Myrena called after him, letting him go in peace.

@tschrist1

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[x-reader-theater]

God Forgot Us (And the Devil Didn't Want Us) {Soulmate AU} [1]

Relationship: Egyptian Prince!Rami Malek X Guard!Male!Reader

Summary: You had never thought that on your third guard shift you would be sent to look after the prince.He wasn’t just any of the princes, no he was next in line for the throne! The soon to be pharaoh is said to be callous, cruel, but meeting him, you find he isn’t that at all. In fact, he’s pretty harmless! (Reshef is Rami in this. I changed it because Rami was not a popular nae in 2400 BCE Egypt!)

Warnings: Allusions to sex, maybe some cursing I don’t really remember, and ANGST! This entire series revolves around angst.

Word Count: 5,505

A/N: Hello hello again! And welcome to my Soulmate (ish) series! That’s right! This is the first part of a fifteen part series! Each chapter will be about this length, with new personalities every time, and a rotating cast of characters, and villains! I didn’t post anything yesterday because of the tumblr protest, but I’m back, and because I didn’t post yesterday, I’m posting the whole first chapter today! Moodboard for this is by @geeky-edits! Thank you so much! You should check them out, their moodboards are incredible! Anyways, please enjoy, and please reblog, it helps so much! <3

EGYPT 2400 BCE

“I can not believe this…” you mumble to yourself as you make your way through the large palace. “I get assigned to the prince…” You had been in the palace for all of two guard shifts, when the Great Pharaoh called you in to the throne room. You were nervous, you had never been in the presence of the Pharaoh, and your heart was pounding as he told you your assignment. To watch over the young prince.

You grumble to yourself as you pass the women and men who worked in the palace. Some of the chamber women who pass you laugh as you mumble to yourself about the prince. Everyone who talked to you about the prince said how mean he was to his guards, and how he always seemed to drive them away.

You skid to a halt outside of the prince's room, and look at the large stone doors that keep you from your new fate. You square your shoulders, steady your staff, and push the door open.

You walk into the room, a light breeze passes by, rustling your hair and the linen wrapped around your waist. The gossamer silk that covers the open accesses blow gently, and the opaque, gold fabric created a glowing light that seemed to encase anything it touched in a halo.

You walk in slowly, and say quietly to announce your presence, “My Prince?”

A head pops out from around the corner, and a grin plays on the young prince's face. His long hair is messy, unbrushed, long and curly. He was younger than you remember.

This is the prince? You think to yourself. He's so young!

“Are you just going to stare, or are you going to take me to my father?” The Little Prince asks, and you shake yourself out of your staring. You straighten your back, and grip you spear. The prince grins, and walks past you, brushing up against you. You feel your skin prickle as he touches it, leaving a chill that you didn't think possible in the warm Egyptian heat.

The prince walks out of the door, and you shake yourself again, following soon after.

“One! Two! Three! Four! One! Two! Three! Four!” You call out as you move. There was no one else in the courtyard today but you, and you move your feet back and forth, your hand swinging your falchion back and forth. You feel the heft of the blade trying to take over your movements, but you control it, straining your muscles to keep yourself from involuntarily moving. You make sure every movement is crisp and clean, without any hint of fatigue in them.

You were given the day off, the prince meeting with his father, so you were taking that time to train. You've been with the prince about a week now, and you sort of understood why people ran with their tail between their legs. He was very flirtatious, setting his sights on anyone he could. He liked to touch as well, especially the guards, who most of the time have to sit and take it. Because the guards went without any armour while on shift in the castle, the young prince was given a show every time one of them walked through the door.

You didn't say you were necessarily put off by any of it, but sometimes when he did anything outside of his own private chambers, you could feel all eyes were on you. When he was alone, you didn't mind very much what he did, but it was never more than a few simple touches. The prince knew his limits, and when to not go further. He understands that he's the prince, and that means he has power, but he doesn't abuse it. If you tell him to stop, he stops.

It was very grown up of him, and to had to admit, he was less scary and much more respectful than people let on.

You realize in that moment, that must be what the prince has to go through, and that's why he's like that. Everyone assumes things about him, so if he makes sure some people know certain things, they'll be less likely to gossip. Maybe. You can't really know for sure unless you ask. It may just be because he's the prince.

You realize you had stopped moving, and let out a shaky breath, as you let your sword drop your arm. Sighing, you put everything away. Maybe thinking during training isn't the best idea. Some meditation is sure to clear your thoughts.

You straighten your back more, gripping your spear tighter as you hear the prince rustling awake. You stand outside the archway leading into where is bed is, and wait, until you hear him call out.

“Hello?”

You quickly turn, your back perfectly straight and your head held high, and you walk into the prince's Chambers. You place a fist to your chest, kneeling and bowing your head, before getting up and standing at the entrance to the room, keeping your eyes everywhere but the naked figure of the prince in front of you. While it was not uncommon to see the prince without his linens on, it was still a courtesy to give the royal family their privacy. Even though you hadn't been working for the palace for long, you understood what was courteous.  

But unlike usual, the prince doesn't pick up the fresh linens brought in for him by the servant women. Instead, he walks up to you. You stiffen even more as the prince reaches out to brush along your bare shoulders. You shudder underneath the touch and the prince places his hand on your chest. It's warm, and a little uncomfortable in the ever-burning heat, but you don't have it in you to brush it off.

The prince leans forwards and whispers, “You are stunning today.”

You feel your cheeks warm and you say back in a professional tone of voice, “I wear the same linens every day, my prince.”

The prince chuckles and says, “Please, if we are to be friends, you must call me Reshef.”

You nod and comply with his request. “Reshef.” It sounded nice on your tongue. You know the Pharaoh and his wife wanted a strong son, but naming him after the god of war is a bit on the nose.

The Prince, Reshef, smiles and looks up at you, placing another hand on your neck. You feel him tugging at your long hair, held back by a simple piece of leather cord. “You know, I am to become Pharaoh when my father dies,” he says.

You nod. “Yes My- Reshef,” you quickly correct, and Reshef smiles as you do, leaning in towards your face now.

“When I am Pharaoh I can have whatever I want.” He sounded like a child, but you didn't particularly care. Having the prince in front of you with no clothes on, a prince with no clothes on who wanted you of all people, you couldn't say no.

You let out a shaky breath. “What is it you want, Reshef?”

At the sound of his name, Reshef shivers, and he pushes you against the wall slowly. He doesn't say anything as he places his lips on your chest, and you drop your spear with a loud clattering sound, reaching up to dig into his long, curly hair. He breaks from his kisses and looks up at you, and you see this look on his face, and he doesn't even have to say it out loud. You push him so he's splayed out on his bed, and you crawl over him, almost slipping on the sheets, but you maintain your dignity. You bend down and capture his lips in yours, and he hungrily grabs for your face. You feel short nails dig into your cheeks. You pull his hands off you and pin them above his head with one hand, and the other pins his hips down.

“What do you want?” You ask again, this time by his ear, pressing a gentle kiss underneath it.

He gasps, and says so quietly you almost miss it, “You.”

You walk through the market, a stoic look on your face as you watch your beloved Reshef interacting with the merchants. You watch his face light up as he sees a stall, and runs to it. You and the three other guards detailed to him rush after him, catching up as he exchanges some coin with the merchant, who thanks him greatly.

You follow close behind the prince as he sets off again, and whisper to him, “My Prince, you can not just run off. We are here to protect you.”

“If I ran would you follow me?” He whispers back to you.

“What?” You ask, but he doesn't answer, darting off through the streets. You huff and quickly rush after him, leaving the other guards behind, unable to catch up.

You find him in an alley, casually leaning up against one of the sandstone houses that lines the market square. He's holding an apple, tossing it up and down. You double over, catching your breath, and you pant out, “Please, promise me you will not ever do that again!”

Reshef throws the apple up again, and catches it, taking a bite, watching you as he chews. He walks over, and you stand up. He leans over and kisses you gently. You can taste the apple's sweetness still on his lips.

“You like the chase, though,” he says, and you roll your eyes as he kisses you again. He pulls away, watching your face soften. “Now come on. I want to shop some more.”

He grabs your hand and leads you to the end of the alley. You slip your hand from his. He looks up at you, but you look straight ahead, and just follow close behind when he starts moving again. He checks out a few shops, getting some small things for his parents, his siblings, and even buys something for you, as much as you protest.

You walk with him to another stall, a bread stall containing freshly baked loaves that were still being brought out as people buy their daily bread. He walks up and checks a few of them for any imperfections, when he looks over into an alleyway. “Look,” Reshef says, pointing to it. Looking, you see two little kids, a boy and a girl, huddled together.

Reshef hands over a couple coins, and grabs the best looking bread, before setting off for the alley. When you both enter, the children, scared at the sight of a royal guard, start to get up frantically. “Please wait!” Reshef calls out, and the kids stop.

He walks over to them slowly, and they look at him with concern, like they're going to bolt if he tries anything. But he just walks forwards, and bends down, getting dirt on his pristine linen, and holds out the bread. They look at it, at each other, and the girl reaches out for it slowly, before snatching it out of his hand. They tear into it as if they're cheetahs, digging into its meal of fresh meat.

Reshef just stands up, and walks back over to you, gawking as your prince walks by. You lead him back to the castle who you are praised by the Queen for keeping an eye on Reshef when he ran off, and Reshef is scolded for doing so, but nothing really comes of it. Reshef is confined to his Chambers for the rest of the day, which he doesn't mind, and then the two of you are sent off.

As you enter his Chambers with him, you pin him to the wall, kissing up and down his neck, murmuring against his skin as you do so. “You are incredible, do you know? You really are better than I ever imagined.”

Reshef pulls you away and smiles, before kissing you, hard, and you let out a soft moan. He smiles into the kiss and you push him away, quickly closing the door behind you two, before you lead him to the bed, about to make the most of the Prince's confinement.

You walk into Reshef's chambers, not needing permission at this point, and say to a still sleeping prince, “Reshef, you are wanted by your father.” Reshef groans and you set your spear down beside the bed, placing a soft kiss to the Prince's head. He opens his eyes slowly, and smiles sweetly up at you, and leans in for another kiss. You move away and chuckle as he pouts.

“You can't say no to me I'm the prince…” he says slowly, placing an arm around your neck and dragging you forwards. He kisses you, but you pull away, a fond look on your face.

“You may be the prince…” you mutter out in between kisses. “But your father is the Pharaoh, and he holds more power than you do.” Reshef sighs and stops kissing you, and you lean around and place one to his temple. “Now, do get up. I would hate to have you be late, and stay longer away from you…”

That seems to get Reshef up, and he quickly kisses you as he gets ready, putting on his almost sheer linen, the opulent jewelry, the makeup of kohl and blue powder. After everything, you couldn't deny that he looked magnificent. His hair was put up into his Khat, and a band of gold was used to secure it in place. You lean down and kiss the young prince, unable to hold it inside of you.

“You look, divine Reshef,” you say against his lips, and he smiles, kissing you again.

“Now come along. We do not want to keep father waiting,” Reshef says, and you smirk at his playfulness and guide him towards the throne room.

You wince as you hear another high pitched scream from Reshef’s mother, and a returning scream from Reshef himself. It’s quiet for a few moments, and you reclaim your posture, before another scream rushes through the still air, and you jump again. The voices get louder after some time, and the doors to Reshef’s chambers open suddenly, and his mother storms out. She looks over at you and squeezes out from between her teeth, “You had better not be thinking about doing anything else stupid, or I will have your head…”

You watch her storm down the hall, before turning into Reshef’s room, closing the door behind you. You slowly make your way into the bedroom, and see Reshef spread out on his bed. You set your spear down beside the bed, and sit down on the edge of it. You turn to say something to Reshef, but he doesn’t say anything. He just grabs your wrist and pulls you down to lay with him. You don’t say anything as he curls up against you, his head in the crook of your arm, and you just hold him. You both don’t say anything, but you kiss his hair, and quietly hum a song your mother used to sing to you.

Reshef eventually sighs and relaxes into you, and you smile, continuing to hum. You feel Reshef vibrating, and looking down, you see him singing along, actually knowing the words. You stop, just listening to him sing. It wasn’t perfect, but to you, you couldn’t have asked for anything else. When he stops, he looks up at you, and you kiss him, slow and sweet. You could be having sex, or running around the palace, but just the two of you laying there was better than anything else in the world.

“I love you,” you say quietly, and Reshef looks up at you, not shocked, but like he already knew.

“I love you too,” he says, kissing you, before burrowing further into your chest.

It's silent again, just the sound of your beating heart echoing off the walls, and yours and Reshef's steady breathing. If he didn't have his eyes open, you would have thought he was asleep.

“My mother came in to talk to me about finding a wife…” Reshef says quietly. You look down at him surprised, but don't say anything. “I told her I don't want one, and she brought up you.” You nod, prompting him to continue. Reshef turns and leans on your chest, looking up at you. “I don't want a wife. I want you.”

You smile, and kiss him lightly. “It is your duty, my love.”

Reshef shakes his head. “I don't want it to be! I don't want a wife a kids! I don't want to become Pharaoh! I just want you!” You sits up. And you push yourself so you're leaning against the wall. He grabs your hands and excitedly says, “Run away with me! Just the two of us!”

You sigh, and squeeze Reshef's hand. “I don't expect your mother to be too happy about that. And, I could not do that. You are allowed your lovers, but you must find a wife to produce heirs.”

Reshef rolls his eyes. “But I don't want a wife if she's anything like my mother! Controlling, always telling me what to do…”

“She's doing that because she loves you. She wants what is best for you!”

“And what if what's best for me is you!”

You freeze at his words, your hand going slack in his, and you immediately look away from his intense gaze. You move to get up, but Reshef holds your hand against his chest. You don't look at him as you say, “I'm sorry my prince, but that can not happen.” You wrench your hand away from his grasp. “I will be outside if you need anything else.”

You grab your spear and walk out. He didn't need anything, and stayed in his room all day.

Upon the Prince's request, given to you by a female slave, you enter into the young Prince's chambers, only to be greeted by an almost naked prince, laying over his bed sheets. You quickly avert your eyes and say, “I'm sorry my prince. I can come back in a moment.”

“No, please,” he says, and you feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see his makeup accentuated face inches from yours. You feel the urge to kiss him, take him right now, but you stop yourself. You can't do that.

You do as commanded, sitting on the bed, and Reshef sits next to you. He looks like he wants to touch you, but he doesn't just sitting there.

“Why did you leave?” He asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

You turn and look at him. “What?”

“Why did you leave? When I said you're what's best for me?” He's not accusatory or malicious in any way, but he is quiet, speculative.

You shake your head, sighing. You were hoping it would never come up, that he would just forget about you. But that's obviously not the case. “Because nothing about me is good. I'm a guard, I come from a family who's all dead, I can not produce heirs, I have no use! Your mother already hates me, and your father is too blind to see it! What about me is actually good for you?”

Reshef turns 90°, fully facing you, and hesitantly reaches you to touch your hand. When you don't pull away, he grabs it. Truth is, you can't pull away, not when it comes to him. That's why you were hoping he'd forget you, because you could never forget him.

“I love you [Y/N]. Isn't that enough?” He asks, and you shake your head, sadly.

“I am not what… Who, you should be in love with. You should find yourself a beautiful wife.”

Reshef leans forwards and as much as you want to pull away, you can't. He places his hand lightly on your jaw, and he kisses you just as lightly, and you think he may have missed.

“I'll get a wife, but I will not love her. I will have children but they will not be the loves of my life. I will have the throne but is not what I will fight for every day. From the moment I saw you walk into my chambers, you have had a grip on my heart no one can replace. You are my one and only love, and even if you should die tomorrow, I will not stop loving you. I would never replace you with any woman or man. I would not take anyone either. You hold my heart in your hand, and I do not want you to let go of it, because I will never let go of yours.”

You stare at him, his words bouncing around in your head, his face watching yours. You can see the love in his eyes, and you know he has a grip on your heart. His words ring true through your skull, and you can't stop thinking about it. You do love him, and if he gets a wife, he'll be able to keep you. You'll be able to keep him.

You lean forwards and press your lips desperately to his, hungrily running your hands up and down his torso, feeling his toned muscles underneath you shift as he moves closer. He runs his fingers through your long hair and tugs on it, hard, making you cry out.

You lean back on the bed and Reshef climbs on top of you, pinning your arms above your head, just like you did to him. He kisses your neck, and you say, “Show me how much you love me, Reshef.”

He pulls away and look down at you hungrily, a large, lopsided smile on his face, and he dives back down, going in for the kill.

You enter the throne room, Reshef in front of you, and you walk over to the Pharaoh’s and his wife’s guards, and stand up straight, waiting for Reshef to be finished. Reshef steps forwards, and bows to his father. “Father,” he says casually, as he steps forwards, away from you. “Mother.” He greets his mother with a bow as well, though he doesn't bow as deeply.

“My son. Have you come to your senses?” His mother asks, and you flinch, only slightly, and you see Reshef hold it together as well.

He nods. “Yes mother. I have decided to heed your advice and find myself a wife.”

“Oh that is wonderful my son!” Reshef's mother claps in excitement. “We shall find you a beautiful bride!” She runs down, and places a hand on his shoulder, and guides him away. You go to follow, but she gives you a glare. You nod, and walk away, knowing that you will not be needed until his mother returns him to his chambers.

“How was everything with your mother?” You ask, looking over at Reshef who is lying next to you in bed. You are both naked, having just woken each other up with some lazy morning sex. It was your favourite way to wake up.

Reshef rolls over and kisses you sensually underneath your jaw, and you lean into it, before he moves down to your neck. He mumbles against your skin, “Don't talk about my mother while in bed, please.”

You laugh and feel Reshef move a little as your chest bounces up and down. “I was just curious how your hunt it going is all!” You exclaim, and Reshef moves down more, pressing kisses to your chest, your collarbone, your shoulders, and down to your abdomen.

“It didn't go well, at all,” he murmurs against your skin, and he pulls away just above your waist, which was barely covered by the sheets he had on his bed, and move back up. He kisses you softly on your lips, and you place a hand at he back of his neck, lighting squeezing when he pulls away. He sighs at your expectant look. “I couldn't find someone who captured my interest is all…”

You kiss him again, leaning up so you are now both sitting up, you deepen the kiss, pressing into Reshef's already swollen lips. He bites your bottom lip, and you growl instinctively. You feel Reshef grin against you and he releases your lip from his teeth. You place a hand on his lower back to hold him stead above you.

“No one can capture my interest like you can my dear,” he says, and you pull him back in by his waist so he come crashing back into you in a clash of spit and teeth. It was rough, and you loved it. Reshef moves away and whispers in your ear, “Ready for round two?”

Reshef’s mother couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her own son wouldn’t follow her wishes, so she would force him to. Walking to the temple, she walks in, shouting out, “I need a Heka!” A few women look over at the wife of the Pharaoh, but no one goes to her. “Hello!”

A woman looks up at the centre alter, and stands, fully facing the woman who was on a rampage through the temple. “Hello? May I help you?” she asks with a polite smile on her face.

Reshef's mother snaps her head to the quiet voice, and she rushes over, and frustratedly says, “Who can I talk to to set a curse upon someone?”

The Priestess’ eyes widen, and she grabs the Queen's arm, and drags her to a side room. She closes the curtain, and turns on the Queen, fast. “What is it you want?” She asks, her tone malicious and full of anger.

The Queen holds out a large sack of coins, and the Heka looks at it, wide eyed. She snatches it from her hands, and looks at her.

“What do you want done?”

“Reshef!” You call out into his Chambers. You don't get a response, so you push further into his room. When you enter his bedroom, you see him sitting on his bed, a guilty look on his face. “Reshef,” you say bluntly, and he winces, but doesn't look up. “I need to know Reshef.”

“Know what?” He asks.

You sigh. “Are you not picking a wife because you genuinely don't want them…” You pause, hoping he'd finish your sentence, but he doesn't. “Or because you want to prolong it for as long as possible?”

He doesn't look up, but he shakes his head slowly, and you see a tear fall onto his lap. You don't move, just looking at him from the entryway. “I'm sorry…” is all he manages to get out.

You sigh. “I can not come in the way of your duty my prince.” When you don't say his name, you see him flinch ever so slightly, and you feel your heart constrict in your chest. “I am sorry, but I will be requesting for you to get another guard to watch you.”

When Reshef doesn't say anything, you turn, and walk out, leaving him alone. You walk away from his room, trying not think about him, and you walk into the courtyard where you train, and that's when you feel something dripping down your abdomen. You look down, and see yourself bleeding from your heart.

Reshef walks through the palace, trying to find [Y/N], going to every spot he could think of, where he'd be. Finally, he turns the corner into the courtyard. If he wasn't anywhere else, he were most definitely training.

He turns the corner, and sees [Y/N] lying on the ground, barely breathing. Running over he feels his heart pounding in his chest as he places [Y/N]'s head into his lap, and [Y/N] opens his eyes just slightly, and he smiles as Reshef's eyes lock with his.

Reshef can feel the tears welling up in his throat, the burn of him trying to swallow them down is a good type of pain. At least he can still feel. “[Y/N]?” He asks, so quietly, he's afraid his love can't hear him. His voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat, but that only makes it more painful as tears threaten to spill over.

“I guess this is my punishment for loving you…” he says, and Reshef could tell he was forcing it out.

“What?” He asks, and [Y/N] looks down at his hand, where blood was pouring out from under it. Reshef grabs [Y/N]'s hand, feeling the hot stickiness of the blood cover his fingers, and he feels it being soaked up by his linen, but he doesn't care. [Y\N] goes to speak, but Reshef shushes him. “No. Please, save your strength! I can get someone to help! I can fix this.”

He goes to get up, but the man underneath him holds onto his hand, using the last of his strength to keep him there. [Y/N] lets go and his hand falls back down. “I'm sorry my prince. My love.” Reshef hears [Y/N]'s breathing catch, and for a moment he thinks he's lost him, but he manage to say one last thing. “I love you… Reshef…”

His body goes limp, his breathing slows, and his eyes close. “[Y/N]?” He asks quietly, as the first tear falls onto his lifeless face. “[Y/N]!”

He throws his head back and screams at the top of his lungs, and bends over his dead body, sobbing. He can feel his heart being ripped out of him piece by piece, and as he moves his hand away from [Y/N]'s heart, he sees the hole that was like how his own heart felt. He knew who did this, and that realization only made him sob harder.

His body still shaking, he gets up on wobbly legs, and picks up [Y/N]'s body, the blood still pouring from its wound. He brings him through the palace, ignoring the stares everyone gives him as he walks, his bloody hands digging into his sides as he ignores the stares and the whispering.

He makes his way barefooted through the streets of the town, and all the way to the temple. He couldn't feel the pain that was radiating up his legs, the pain in his heart from heartache was too much. With so much going through his mind he couldn't feel any other pain.

He walks in to the temple and sees it's practically empty, it being almost sunset by this point, except for one. One of the priestesses is praying, and Reshef walks over, carefully placing [Y/N]'s body in front of her. She doesn't look up.

Through tears and a lump in his throat, Reshef manages to get out, “Bring him back.”

The Priestess looks up calmly, but her eyes go wide as she sees who it is. “No…” she breathes out, crawling on her hands and knees towards him. When she tries to touch him, Reshef growls, and she stops. Her hands are shaking, and he can see she's almost… scared.

“Bring him back!” Reshef screams at her and she looks up, tears streaming down her face like his are.

“I can't!” She yells back, and all colour from Reshef's face disappears. It was her fault, she could bring him back! “I cursed him to live and die forever! I can't bring him back because he'll just die!”

Reshef can't think. His mind is blank. He's out of options. He can not imagine [Y/N] spending eternity alone, without him, how scared he'll be, and how alone he'll feel in the underworld, all by himself. He can't let him go through that, and the words are out of his mouth faster than he can think about stopping them.

“Then curse me.”

Test priestess looks up at him, shocked, scared, and says, “Are you sure?”

He glares down at her and says in a low, threatening voice, “Yes.”

She stares up at him, not knowing what to say, before nodding and turning around. She tells him to kneel next to his body, and he doesn't look over as she mumbles things in the old language of the gods. She takes an Athame, and dips it in something, and Reshef thinks about how she had done that before with [Y/N] only an hour before. His hands clench at his sides and he grinds his teeth as she turns around, the ritual knife perched daintily on her hands, before she grips it by the hilt. She grabs his shoulder and looks up at him for confirmation. He nods.

“NO!”

Reshef goes to see who it is, but he's cut off by a searing pain in his chest, and he immediately falls to the floor. He can't process anything, the pain in his chest being worse than the heartbreak, and he reaches out, grabbing his love's hand as he thinks of one thing last thing.

“My love. I shall be with you soon.”

And he blacks out.

[sugar-petals]

◇ Sub!BTS: Using A Glass Dildo On Them

| NOTE › bit longer than usual. got carried away writing this 😛

⟨ warnings ⚠️⟩ dom!reader, anal/oral, gloves, toys, mommy/noona kink, kitten play, bondage, overstimulation, fingering, orgasm denial, prostate play, recorded sex/pictures, gaping, hair-pulling, temperature play, masturbation, blindfolds, wax play

Jimin ♡ Thinks what you bought is so pretty — such a nice, transparent caramel color. Thinks that this will be a smooth endeavor, lube and all. Thinks Mommy won’t be so confident plowing him open right away. That’s all in his fantasy, and he dreams his life away for almost an entire week after you announced to spice things up. He did not reckon with his host, did he. The day before, you ask him to prepare himself with extra care because you’ll give it to him strong next night the way you like it best. Jimin ends up blushing all over like he’s 19 and in love again; it’s the best surprise. Finally, he admits to himself that his guesses were all wrong in the best possible way. So he grooms himself with diligence: getting all peachy and clean, hair styled in shiny curly strands, trimmed pubes, delicate lacey underwear. Jimin is a pro at getting ready for you even if it takes long. He’s so nervous and thrilled. Indeed it’s all a lot less pretty once he has to take it raw with a spreader bar holding his legs apart. He’s covering his mouth with one hand and reaching between your legs with the other. He never expected that you could drill his ass so marvelously hard and have a fucking good time doing it. What pleases you pleases him; stifled pants turn into even more longing groans when you seize the spreader bar and watch that delicious caramel length disappear between his cheeks almost completely in a final shove. 

Taehyung ♡ If only you allowed it — he would be busy thrusting himself against it all day. He just loves the feeling of glass against his shaft, it’s weird how much excitement he gets out of it. Though your idea for a hot evening is something fairly different, and tell him he can do it as a reward if things go well according to Noona’s expectations. That means: Baby Tae can’t mess up. Given it’s a double tip dildo, everything is rather easy to handle. One side snakes into his ass making Taehyung’s face go all funny because the glass is ribbed. The other side, for a little diversion, makes itself at home between his lips now and then when you think he’s enjoying what his prostate feels a bit too much. Well, he can’t cum either way, his cock ring is too tight for that. Yet he really puts some efforts into swallowing the dildo properly so you will put it in his ass again as fast as possible to go on ruining it. That calls for a few strong rubs on Taehyung’s dick to frustrate him a bit more. His moans alone are enough to satisfy your need to hear him submit so easily, but having him collapse fatigued and sweaty in the sheets after so much stimulation is the best gratification. After cleaning it a bit, he gets his two-sided dildo back to hump against until he sleeps, but has to promise baby will give Noona his extra attention after she wakes up with his tongue in return.

Jin ♡ Would probably deepthroat it for breakfast. But you have other plans in mind. Armed with a blindfold and extra thick rope, Jin truly is bound to get it rough. Arms apart, legs apart, spanning across your entire bed which is so, so satisfying. The knots aren’t too tight today because you know he’s going to need some room to flinch and twitch, and obviously: that’s something you never want to miss. Lanky Jin, finally under control and at your total mercy. If you have mercy, that is, because he’s way too luscious not to be destroyed. At the blink of an eye, Jin ends up stuffed and all those sweet familiar sounds are back again. How long since the last time you did this? His ass isn’t used to it anymore, which is even better. It’s probably because he got too excited, but Jin forgot that your dildo has a very perky function on top of that. It can vibrate. That catches him by surprise, certainly, and given that it has a switch for extra strong performance which you cannot not make use of... “Jagi, jagi!” goes the endless cry when you turn it on, which turns you on, which turns Jin on. With the vibrator deep enough to stay precisely where it should, you pick up a lighter and candle from the nightstand. The room fills with a spicy scent and more of Seokjin’s wails, too impassioned to cease just now, too loud to really give your neighbors a good impression either. So to keep the session running for a lot longer? You unblindfold Jin and use the fabric as a gag instead.

Yoongi ♡ So hot. Knowing how much he loves dick, this is going to be a religious experience for sweet Min “Fuck my ass” Yoongi. He gets his fluffy little cat ears on, makes sure to use the entire day to stretch himself out with a butt plug. Plenty of time for that in the studio until he gets home where his mistress awaits with her new favorite toy with tiny knobs on it. Sure, Yoongi is not a bottomless pit. He’s just a bottom with nice pits, a convenient place where you can thrust the glass cock into just to give him a taste of how hard things will go. Strangely, Yoongi likes that, but what kinky thing doesn’t he enjoy. But that, after all, is not the main event. The main event is Yoongi’s ass. Covered with a lubed condom, you make sure to guide it in at the right angle, the right speed. But since cock has Yoongi’s brain in shambles, he clenches up, gets too frantic and wriggles around. For you to pin him down properly, you sit on his back with his soft legs stretching into opposite ways underneath you as far as they can. His little cock gets crushed just enough while the fucking continues, leaving his ass roughed up until the second part of the programme starts. Reckless abandon, you peel off the condom, get off his back, and grab him by the jaw to pry it open. The following images stay in your mind forever. With equal fervor, kitten Yoongi throats your toy until his face is coated in snot and sizeable bubbles of saliva. His eyes get big and look for approval with every push, but really, it’s not hard making you happy when all he does is gag and slurp so beautifully.

Hoseok ♡ It’s such a hassle to prepare for anal. But Hoseok feels quite motivated after you present to him your latest online conquest. The poor postman didn’t know what he was delivering there, but once the golden wrapping paper and padding is off: Hoseok is convinced: this is worth it, and you’ve got good taste for sure. Everything for mommy. What a shame you can’t attach it to your strap-on harness, but what a perky feat that you — oh! — have two hands. One to sway past your labia to deliver just a bit of stimulation since the sight is already arousing enough. The other to ram half of the glass shaft into poor Hobi’s mouth who wasn’t ready for how it feels inside. So different from the usual rubber, so unyielding. He can’t squeeze it tinier with his tongue or bend it down his throat. No, it’s him who has to be malleable today, to bob and tilt his head, to stretch his rapper mouth to make some room. You poke at the insides of his cheeks just to make sure they aren’t staying unnoticed, making his cute puffy cheeks bulge out more than they already do. In the heat of the moment, you almost forget to take a picture. But Hoseok’s breathy gargling reminds you just in time. It’s always when he chokes the most that you want a proper image of it. With shaky hands, Hoseok flips to the front camera and smiles, enchanted, causing the glass slip down his throat even more. Maybe that’s the trick that you can use for next time. Who knows. But until now, you have further documented proof that Jung Hoseok is a sucker for brutal dick in the most literal sense. 

Namjoon ♡ Why have one when you can just buy two! The budget has to bear it for now, but the fun is why you have no qualms investing in such good instruments. Instruments to give you some good eye candy. You entrust joyous Namjoon to handle the first, light blue one himself. Now that’s already a tough responsibility given that he has to shove it down his throat without damaging the toy. To make sure he doesn’t break his teeth out by accident or worse either way, you use your favorite ring gag on him. The second, light greenish dildo that you pick up yourself has a reasonable diameter to fit inside Namjoon’s trained ass. Not small enough to poke his prostate and arouse him, not big enough to cause a legit case of belly bulge. Meaning, just right. It’s all set up (to stun!) and he’s not doing so bad fucking his own mouth. You give him a few minutes to adjust for both glass cocks, spend time softly tugging at his strawberry blonde hair to tease him, but ultimately: he’s not made for tender speed. When the jabs get faster, he has a hard time face fucking himself, and eventually drops his... light blue friend. That means punishment, meaning he has to take both cocks inside his ass if he can handle it. Namjoon is drooling throughout because the ring gag won’t go anywhere. It’s perfect to feed him his own cum, too, if only he would climax today. Because you know that just before his pleasure can catch up, you leave him empty and with nothing but the choice of fingering you to get another stuffing if he’s lucky.

Jungkook ♡ Because you’re foxy and he loves to experiment, that thing goes straight to the fridge. Just a couple minutes. In a protective case, gotta be sanitary. It’s Jungkook’s butt we are talking about, you wanna own it for a much longer time. Jungkook, already quite into it, initially thought about the bloody freezer but then realized he’d rather not have it stuck inside of him like a too-cold lolly on a tongue. It’d probably break in the ice either way. So, a few minutes next to the soda bottles and paprika oil it is. Eventually, lubed up and pinched into submission, you get to work to make your dreams reality. Since he is best penetrated on all fours, at least in your book, you worry not catching his facial expression when you insert the dildo with a glove on. So Jungkook uses his phone to film said reaction, almost drops it midway because this shit gets intense. Little did your bunny know that he’d get super tight with that cold thing up his ass and you can’t resist the urge to wiggle it from left to right to see how he can take it. All of his moans are so sweet and high-pitched, it’s just glorious. You feel that there is still plenty of space to go on pushing, but before Jungkook accidentally presses “Send” and forwards the video to Bangtan’s group chat, you grab the phone yourself. It’s perfect to get a good, HD inside view once you’ve finished thrusting him into a reddened, gaping mess and the dildo is getting warm again. Jungkook’s ass might not be the most curvaceous, but the deepest — that, it really is. 

© 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or modify.

[fibula-rasa]

The Vamps — Part Two: Theda Bara and the Star Image

Theda Bara was born in the shadow of the Egyptian pyramids–the daughter of a French actress and an Italian sculptor. Her betrothed is a skeleton.

Theodosia Goodman was born to a middle-class family in Cincinnati, Ohio. She was the daughter of a Jewish haberdasher.

In the early years of the film industry, there were no stars. Film producers knew that allowing for name recognition would empower their performers to make demands–like greater pay. So, the performers in films were routinely uncredited. Around 1910, that began to change. When The Biograph Girl, as she was known, moved to a different studio, her name was finally made known to the public: Florence Lawrence.

An aside: If this seems wild to you, think about modern television commercials. Before he jumped to a different company, how many people repeated the phrase “Can you hear me now?” without knowing the actor (Paul Marcarelli) from the Verizon commercials? Nowadays, what with google and social media, this isn’t quite as common but, still, How many people know the names of those Sonic guys (who are clearly in purgatory btw) but know their gags well? (Their names are T.J. Jagodowski and Peter Grosz.)

Once Florence Lawrence became The First Movie Star, it didn’t take long at all for the trappings of the star image’s constructed reality to develop. Movie fan press began covering the “private lives” and habits of performers. Studio employees built biographies for film performers that better matched their on-screen personas than their actual background. The performers themselves were variably complicit in the smoke and mirrors act. That’s not to suggest that everyone accepted these tales as the gospel truth. Much of the gossip press and movie fans simply had fun with it. That’s right, smarks are as old as kayfabe.

Theda Bara’s burst onto the screen in 1914 was an immediate draw. As the concept of film stars was crystalizing the film star’s image was intentionally muddled with the characters that they interpreted for the screen. In Bara’s case, Fox studios started fleshing out Bara’s Vamp pedigree. The Vamp archetype itself had taken form over the past decade [see Part 1], but Bara would give life to the paradigm. That first biography above is what was reported to the fan press by Fox’s press agents. The skeleton boyfriend was suggested by the copy to accompany a promotional photo shoot where a scantily clad Bara drapes herself beside a prone skeleton. The ties to Spiritualism are clear. Death was by no means a finality to Bara’s romance.

Bara swiftly became one of the biggest stars of film in the teens–alongside Charlie Chaplin and Mary Pickford–The Vamp, The Tramp, and The Sweetheart. As movie fandom grew and the Los Angeles colony of filmmakers coalesced, concerns arose about the real, unconstructed lives of the performers. For Vamp types in particular, the question of their IRL morality was important to address in order to maintain their popularity. If anyone actually believed Bara was a sex-crazed goth, that could spell trouble for her career as the public began to care about film-star morality. In a May 1918 issue of Photoplay, Bara was asked about her morality to which she responded:

‘People write me letters,’ she said smilingly; ‘and they ask me if I am as wicked as I seem on the screen. I look at my little canary and I say “Dicky, am I so wicked?” And Dicky says, “Tweet, tweet.” That may mean “yes, yes,” or “no, no,” may it not?’

Coy and quirky answers aside, Bara continued to be a popular draw for Fox. In 1917, she took on the ultimate Vamp role, Cleopatra. The film is now believed lost, but at the time, it was her biggest hit. As her contract with Fox was running down, Bara began to campaign for non-Vamp roles. After that contract expired, that’s what she tried to pursue. It didn’t really work out and she eventually opted to retire from acting in 1926.

Bara made forty films in her roughly twelve-year-long film career. Unfortunately, only a handful of her films are still extant. So, how has Bara’s image persisted so strongly more than a century after her debut when there’s so little of her work for admires to engage with? Well, there’s a lot of potential answers to that question.

For one, the character of Theda Bara, the film star, was very well-limned and much of that promotional material has survived. The photographs and accompanying promotional copy paint a vivid picture that people still respond to today. I can tell to you that, as a teen, when I was encountering Bara’s photographs in a book I was immediately dedicated to seeing her films. The heartbreak that came with discovering how few of them exist and were readily available to watch in the late 1990s was real. It’s a story that’s still repeated today.

Bara’s acting style probably contributes to her persistent popularity as well. She was part of an acting tradition that involved the repetition of specific expressions and gestures to interpret a characters’ emotions. This style translates beautifully into still photographs. It’s not a stretch to suggest that it’s easier with Bara than many other lost film stars to extrapolate what their films and performances were like.

Also, Bara herself lived on, continuing to play with her image–even parodying herself in her final film appearance in 1926.

Additionally, by chance, one of Bara’s most popular surviving films is A Fool There Was (1914), the film that officially solidified the Vamp archetype. From the material we have, film fans and scholars can use Bara handily to build narratives about the emergence of the star system and fan interaction. So, Theda Bara, The Vamp, has lived on regardless of the dearth of surviving film. Feels pretty Spiritualist in itself, eh?

Learn How to Get the Look BELOW THE JUMP

The Costume

To build yourself a Theda Bara costume, this are the key elements I would focus on:

The Makeup

Bara did her own makeup and costuming for many of her films. It was common practice at the time. So, like later-Cleo Elizabeth Taylor, Bara’s makeup is pretty consistent across her films. Authenticity be damned though, because you are making a costume for fun in 2018, not to be photographed on orthographic film in 1918. I chose maroon-red for my eyeshadow because I thought it would be more striking and, in black and white, would photograph darker than a cooler shade.

The key shape is curvy, elongated eyeshadow in a single color, well blended into a dark liner shade. Bara has pretty round eyes, so you’ll likely want to line your waterline with a lighter shade–white if you wanna be really striking, a nude lighter than your skin tone if you wanna play it low key. Your eyebrows should be straight and drawn out as long as the eye makeup.

The lip shape is small, but not a pucker-pout. Focus on the sharpness of the cupid’s bow. I chose a color in harmony with the eyeshadow, but any deep red or pink would do.

Blush and contour? Skip it. First because you need to cherish the gothy pallor. Second because it would look incongruous with this makeup style. Film stars of the era didn’t typically wear rouge because, on film, it would come off as a deep shadow. The gaunt look wasn’t very fashionable.

The Hair

You have lots of freedom here. Bara had long, thick, and curly hair but as bobs became more fashionable, she often pinned it up into a messy faux-bob. The latter is what I went with. I brushed and pinned the hair on the crown of my head forward to make an era-appropriate pouf.

Head gear is a good choice. I actually pinned a necklace into my hair but if you have any art-nouveau or ancient-Egypt inspired pieces, you’re set. It might sound a little wild, but a dead flower crown would be so on brand.

The Clothes

Scanty. The most important skin to flaunt is around your neck and collar bones. For dress/skirt length, you should go close to floor-length if possible. The fabric should ideally be drapey and/or gauzy. Now, if it’s cold where you are around Halloween, an extra-large scarf would be a good call.

Read Part One

Part Three: Pola Negri & Exoticism coming Thursday!

[easynaturalhairstyle]

18 Reasons To Make Your Hair Color Purple Purple

A violet hair color is a mixture of red and blue tones that are balanced to a lively shade. For funny girls who are not afraid to express themselves, one way to show off your living personality (or live your mermaid dreams!) Is by wearing a pretty purple mane.

Insta-famous hair colorist Chrissy Rasmussen describes violet hair as the color of the season, and I couldn't agree more!

To keep this color regal, you need to upgrade your hair care at home as we all know that Vivids need more TLC when it comes to grooming. Ask your trusted colorist for recommendations on the best color-safe products.

You can get your Celeb hair inspiration from Jessie J, Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry, and Justin Skye, who have electrically proven how purple matches all types of complexions.

Know how to handle this trend by using these gorgeous purple hair color ideas you can't resist!

dark purple

How would you describe this look?

I would describe this deep purple hair color as lively and cheeky. My favorite thing about this look is that it's a great way to add color to your hair without a big commitment. I say that because I achieve this color, I have made a combination of balayage and highlights so that some of her natural hair color is in between. This makes it easier to touch and it will fade a lot nicer than an all-over solid bright color.

This client has pretty then fine hair, so we also gave her a fresh, blunt shoulder length cut with some structured layers. The texture in the layers will give movement, while keeping the ends blunt will make your hair appear thicker and fuller.

Any advice for someone considering it?

Note that this type of paint is a little easier to care for than conventional paint. I always recommend a color deposit shampoo or conditioner to my customers to keep the color fresh and bright. Even with a sulfate-free shampoo, washing in cold water and with a heat protection spray, your color will last as long as possible.

This color that looks great on all skin tones and there are so many shades of purple. If you have a deeper skin tone, I think the warmer shades of purple look best. Think more on the magenta side, a deep purple or a red / purple. For fairer skin tones, a blue violet or light violet, it will best complement you. If you tend to have redness on your face, I would also lean towards a cooler tinted purple.

Vibrant colors are so much fun! If you are someone who washes your hair daily or doesn't want the salon more every 6-8 weeks, it may not be the best option for you. As long as you listen to your stylist's recommendations and are prepared for a little extra grooming, there's no reason why you can't rock some hair like this.

Violet gray

How would you describe this look?

I would describe this look as "stormy violet waves". The color is stormy like the gray clouds that come with a storm, violets poured out of violet into the tone of color, and wave style that reminds the sea.

Any advice for someone considering it?

This color is very easy to care for, so make sure you are ready and able to keep up with it!

Maintenance includes deep treatments at least once a week (my favorite right now is Joico's Moisture Recovery Balm), using a purple shampoo for gray / silver hair like Framisi's Color Lover Dynamic Blonde, and color glazes every 4-6 weeks to get them done to keep stormy vibes.

Be realistic about the process (how long it will take to get there, the number of sessions it will take, and the cost of all services to get the look). Of course, if you have dark coarse hair or the previous color, don't expect these results in the first session (if you want nice long healthy hair).

This client in the photo came to me with level 2 virgin hair, and we started with a small number of highlights and then transferred them to a balayage with a shadow root. She went through about 6 whitening sessions over a year and a half to achieve this color! Patience is the key!

This color is more for the customer who has the time and resources for maintenance, is very patient and will love the attention he / she will get from this unique color.

dust violet

How would you describe this look?

This look is a smoky purple shaded root. The depth of the root and the splashes of vibrant blue complement the living party braid. My favorite thing about this look is that it can be worn casually or dressed up. The purple tone is just vivid enough to be edgy, but is still very classy and tasteful.

Any advice for someone considering it?

I would recommend that they come every 4 to 6 weeks to keep the color fresh. This prevents a line of demarcation in the new growth and prevents the smoky silver from fading. Pastels and silver are a little higher care because they tend to fade after about 30 washes.

The braid is a great look that anyone who can make French braids at home. Just split the mohawk and braid it back. Secure it with a few bobby pins and loosen the braid for a living feel. This look can be worn straight or curly!

silver Purple

How would you describe this look?

It's a melted grape pop. I love to play with color, and since my guest had never done fashion colors, I wanted to give her something subtle, but also my chance to be creative.

Any advice for someone considering it?

When I want purple tones of fashion colors, I always make them aware of how reducing shampooing and washing with cooler water prevents hair from fading so much and keeping their color longer. I also love recommending a good color care shampoo – pretty much anything with little to no sulfates. This also prevents hair from drying out – this and a weekly mask.

I think everyone can rock fashionable colors! If you want them, do it! We can always color it. Don't be afraid that you will live your inner mermaid life!

Dark to light violet ombre

How would you describe this look?

This look is a purple to lavender balayage. My favorite things about this look are the colors and how they are subtle but bold and fun.

Any advice for someone considering it?

You will definitely have to do a lot of maintenance because purple pastel colors fade extremely quickly. When summer comes up and you are thinking of going for a swim, remember that water, chlorine or staying in the sun will also fade the color.

To protect your hair from the sun, I recommend buying an SPF hairspray at your local beauty salon. For anyone considering this shade of purple hair, I would say go for it. Keep in mind that you may need to change hues depending on the color of your natural hair and what colors you could rinse out. Talk to your stylist to decide which changes suit you best.

Burgundy Purple

How would you describe this look?

The colors are ash violet (level 4) above and pink-violet below. I styled with natural waves because her hair needed volume. I used USA Glampalm and Schwarzkopf.

Any advice for someone considering it?

She has Asian black hair and a round face. Her hair was bleached, so the top part was already damaged. That's why I recommended an ombre look! She wanted pink for the lower part. Asian hair needs bleaching 2-3 times, but we couldn't go easier to avoid damage. We made the color ash violet that goes well with pink.

This purple hue looks pretty with club lights or any place like bars and lounges. Even if you only wear a plain white t-shirt with jeans while in this color, you will make it really fashionable.

Black violet

How would you describe this look?

This black and purple balayage that I created is a perfect lower maintenance look for those who want fashionable color without needing a retouch every 4-6 weeks. The best part about a vibrant balayage is that you can easily change color at every appointment while continuing to grow your natural root. These soft waves were achieved with a styling stick and some of my favorite Goldwell products!

Any advice for someone considering it?

When considering your next hair color, it's important to think about maintenance. Despite the balayage is a lower maintenance trend, bright colors require a lot of care.

I always recommend salon quality shampoo and conditioner, heat protection and even a custom color shampoo for home maintenance. Washing with cold water is also a necessity while getting bright colors as it keeps your cuticles sealed and allows less bleeding. Fashionable color isn't for everyone, but if you're looking for a splash of color to match your vibrant personality, a vibrant balayage could just be the perfect look for you!

light purple

How would you describe this look?

My client is a doctor and I was so excited when she came to me and asked for an extraordinary color for her. She had medium length hair before she started our job, so I decided to do a bob cut for her – it was the best decision. The haircut was very suitable for her oval face and emphasized the beautiful neck. I thought the ombre technique would look good and my client loved the purple crazy color. So after 6 hours it was finished, we were very happy with the result. When the paint is washed off, the ombre color will be like ashy blonde.

It is not difficult to take care of this light purple hair color and cut it at home. Above all shampoo and conditioner for colored hair. You can also use purple shampoo or no yellow. I recommend using thermal protection products when styling and also hair oil to complete the styling.

Any advice for someone considering it?

No matter what your job or what your lifestyle, love yourself and don't be afraid of change!

Violet blonde

How would you describe this look?

This look is a color melt. It has a smooth transition from purple to icy blonde.

My favorite thing about this look is the mix. There are no hard lines and it easily melts into the blonde. One thing that I really love about this look is that it's not permanent. Once the violet fades, she would be able to change colors and keep it fun.

Any advice for someone considering it?

It is high maintenance, so you have to be ready to invest in your hair. Fashionable colors fade and only last for a few weeks. Blonde is also a high maintenance because you have to keep it on the right blonde.

You also need to make sure that you work in a career that allows fun funky colors. It is definitely fun for someone who loves changing colors as you can switch from purple to any other fun color. As long as it is done professionally, I cannot do this out of a box or at home. Find a professional who specializes in fashion colors.

Platinum purple

Unicorn hair can be a good name for your purple hairstyle. And that's one of the greatest compliments ever.

Violet violet

Who could have known you could keep the galaxy on your hair? You could only do it with the magic of violet hair dye and a very willing professional!

Violet hair highlights

With this, the purple highlights on black hair can be underestimated, but it's really the star of the show.

Violet brown

This medium length layered hair of purple brown creates a multi-dimensional look for this. It's amazing what two colors and a perfect cut could do, isn't it?

Violet and blue balayage

One thing this did right is that you could never go wrong with purple and blue. Every color, every color, every technique. These colors go really well together.

Dark violet

Balayage worked pretty well with brown and plum to create this beautiful dark red purple hue. The long, straight hair also did the trick of creating this blanket of colorful beauty.

dark purple

A deep dark purple hair dye says sexy and mysterious. It fits a moody dress well if you know what I mean.

Violet pastel

Pink shades outshine your normal purple pastel. Who knew that one color could make all of these multi-tones work?

Ash blonde purple

Take your long locks to the salon and ask about this ash blonde violet hair color. You will never have colored hair again.

18 Reasons To Make Your Hair Color Purple Purple

[qualitytacolover]

18 Reasons To Make Your Hair Color Purple Purple

New Post has been published on https://www.easypromhairstyles.com/18-reasons-to-make-your-hair-color-purple-purple.html

18 Reasons To Make Your Hair Color Purple Purple

A violet hair color is a mixture of red and blue tones that are balanced to a lively shade. For funny girls who are not afraid to express themselves, one way to show off your living personality (or live your mermaid dreams!) Is by wearing a pretty purple mane.

Insta-famous hair colorist Chrissy Rasmussen describes violet hair as the color of the season, and I couldn't agree more!

To keep this color regal, you need to upgrade your hair care at home as we all know that Vivids need more TLC when it comes to grooming. Ask your trusted colorist for recommendations on the best color-safe products.

You can get your Celeb hair inspiration from Jessie J, Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry, and Justin Skye, who have electrically proven how purple matches all types of complexions.

Know how to handle this trend by using these gorgeous purple hair color ideas you can't resist!

dark purple

How would you describe this look?

I would describe this deep purple hair color as lively and cheeky. My favorite thing about this look is that it's a great way to add color to your hair without a big commitment. I say that because I achieve this color, I have made a combination of balayage and highlights so that some of her natural hair color is in between. This makes it easier to touch and it will fade a lot nicer than an all-over solid bright color.

This client has pretty then fine hair, so we also gave her a fresh, blunt shoulder length cut with some structured layers. The texture in the layers will give movement, while keeping the ends blunt will make your hair appear thicker and fuller.

Any advice for someone considering it?

Note that this type of paint is a little easier to care for than conventional paint. I always recommend a color deposit shampoo or conditioner to my customers to keep the color fresh and bright. Even with a sulfate-free shampoo, washing in cold water and with a heat protection spray, your color will last as long as possible.

This color that looks great on all skin tones and there are so many shades of purple. If you have a deeper skin tone, I think the warmer shades of purple look best. Think more on the magenta side, a deep purple or a red / purple. For fairer skin tones, a blue violet or light violet, it will best complement you. If you tend to have redness on your face, I would also lean towards a cooler tinted purple.

Vibrant colors are so much fun! If you are someone who washes your hair daily or doesn't want the salon more every 6-8 weeks, it may not be the best option for you. As long as you listen to your stylist's recommendations and are prepared for a little extra grooming, there's no reason why you can't rock some hair like this.

Violet gray

How would you describe this look?

I would describe this look as "stormy violet waves". The color is stormy like the gray clouds that come with a storm, violets poured out of violet into the tone of color, and wave style that reminds the sea.

Any advice for someone considering it?

This color is very easy to care for, so make sure you are ready and able to keep up with it!

Maintenance includes deep treatments at least once a week (my favorite right now is Joico's Moisture Recovery Balm), using a purple shampoo for gray / silver hair like Framisi's Color Lover Dynamic Blonde, and color glazes every 4-6 weeks to get them done to keep stormy vibes.

Be realistic about the process (how long it will take to get there, the number of sessions it will take, and the cost of all services to get the look). Of course, if you have dark coarse hair or the previous color, don't expect these results in the first session (if you want nice long healthy hair).

This client in the photo came to me with level 2 virgin hair, and we started with a small number of highlights and then transferred them to a balayage with a shadow root. She went through about 6 whitening sessions over a year and a half to achieve this color! Patience is the key!

This color is more for the customer who has the time and resources for maintenance, is very patient and will love the attention he / she will get from this unique color.

dust violet

How would you describe this look?

This look is a smoky purple shaded root. The depth of the root and the splashes of vibrant blue complement the living party braid. My favorite thing about this look is that it can be worn casually or dressed up. The purple tone is just vivid enough to be edgy, but is still very classy and tasteful.

Any advice for someone considering it?

I would recommend that they come every 4 to 6 weeks to keep the color fresh. This prevents a line of demarcation in the new growth and prevents the smoky silver from fading. Pastels and silver are a little higher care because they tend to fade after about 30 washes.

The braid is a great look that anyone who can make French braids at home. Just split the mohawk and braid it back. Secure it with a few bobby pins and loosen the braid for a living feel. This look can be worn straight or curly!

silver Purple

How would you describe this look?

It's a melted grape pop. I love to play with color, and since my guest had never done fashion colors, I wanted to give her something subtle, but also my chance to be creative.

Any advice for someone considering it?

When I want purple tones of fashion colors, I always make them aware of how reducing shampooing and washing with cooler water prevents hair from fading so much and keeping their color longer. I also love recommending a good color care shampoo – pretty much anything with little to no sulfates. This also prevents hair from drying out – this and a weekly mask.

I think everyone can rock fashionable colors! If you want them, do it! We can always color it. Don't be afraid that you will live your inner mermaid life!

Dark to light violet ombre

How would you describe this look?

This look is a purple to lavender balayage. My favorite things about this look are the colors and how they are subtle but bold and fun.

Any advice for someone considering it?

You will definitely have to do a lot of maintenance because purple pastel colors fade extremely quickly. When summer comes up and you are thinking of going for a swim, remember that water, chlorine or staying in the sun will also fade the color.

To protect your hair from the sun, I recommend buying an SPF hairspray at your local beauty salon. For anyone considering this shade of purple hair, I would say go for it. Keep in mind that you may need to change hues depending on the color of your natural hair and what colors you could rinse out. Talk to your stylist to decide which changes suit you best.

Burgundy Purple

How would you describe this look?

The colors are ash violet (level 4) above and pink-violet below. I styled with natural waves because her hair needed volume. I used USA Glampalm and Schwarzkopf.

Any advice for someone considering it?

She has Asian black hair and a round face. Her hair was bleached, so the top part was already damaged. That's why I recommended an ombre look! She wanted pink for the lower part. Asian hair needs bleaching 2-3 times, but we couldn't go easier to avoid damage. We made the color ash violet that goes well with pink.

This purple hue looks pretty with club lights or any place like bars and lounges. Even if you only wear a plain white t-shirt with jeans while in this color, you will make it really fashionable.

Black violet

How would you describe this look?

This black and purple balayage that I created is a perfect lower maintenance look for those who want fashionable color without needing a retouch every 4-6 weeks. The best part about a vibrant balayage is that you can easily change color at every appointment while continuing to grow your natural root. These soft waves were achieved with a styling stick and some of my favorite Goldwell products!

Any advice for someone considering it?

When considering your next hair color, it's important to think about maintenance. Despite the balayage is a lower maintenance trend, bright colors require a lot of care.

I always recommend salon quality shampoo and conditioner, heat protection and even a custom color shampoo for home maintenance. Washing with cold water is also a necessity while getting bright colors as it keeps your cuticles sealed and allows less bleeding. Fashionable color isn't for everyone, but if you're looking for a splash of color to match your vibrant personality, a vibrant balayage could just be the perfect look for you!

light purple

How would you describe this look?

My client is a doctor and I was so excited when she came to me and asked for an extraordinary color for her. She had medium length hair before she started our job, so I decided to do a bob cut for her – it was the best decision. The haircut was very suitable for her oval face and emphasized the beautiful neck. I thought the ombre technique would look good and my client loved the purple crazy color. So after 6 hours it was finished, we were very happy with the result. When the paint is washed off, the ombre color will be like ashy blonde.

It is not difficult to take care of this light purple hair color and cut it at home. Above all shampoo and conditioner for colored hair. You can also use purple shampoo or no yellow. I recommend using thermal protection products when styling and also hair oil to complete the styling.

Any advice for someone considering it?

No matter what your job or what your lifestyle, love yourself and don't be afraid of change!

Violet blonde

How would you describe this look?

This look is a color melt. It has a smooth transition from purple to icy blonde.

My favorite thing about this look is the mix. There are no hard lines and it easily melts into the blonde. One thing that I really love about this look is that it's not permanent. Once the violet fades, she would be able to change colors and keep it fun.

Any advice for someone considering it?

It is high maintenance, so you have to be ready to invest in your hair. Fashionable colors fade and only last for a few weeks. Blonde is also a high maintenance because you have to keep it on the right blonde.

You also need to make sure that you work in a career that allows fun funky colors. It is definitely fun for someone who loves changing colors as you can switch from purple to any other fun color. As long as it is done professionally, I cannot do this out of a box or at home. Find a professional who specializes in fashion colors.

Platinum purple

Unicorn hair can be a good name for your purple hairstyle. And that's one of the greatest compliments ever.

Violet violet

Who could have known you could keep the galaxy on your hair? You could only do it with the magic of violet hair dye and a very willing professional!

Violet hair highlights

With this, the purple highlights on black hair can be underestimated, but it's really the star of the show.

Violet brown

This medium length layered hair of purple brown creates a multi-dimensional look for this. It's amazing what two colors and a perfect cut could do, isn't it?

Violet and blue balayage

One thing this did right is that you could never go wrong with purple and blue. Every color, every color, every technique. These colors go really well together.

Dark violet

Balayage worked pretty well with brown and plum to create this beautiful dark red purple hue. The long, straight hair also did the trick of creating this blanket of colorful beauty.

dark purple

A deep dark purple hair dye says sexy and mysterious. It fits a moody dress well if you know what I mean.

Violet pastel

Pink shades outshine your normal purple pastel. Who knew that one color could make all of these multi-tones work?

Ash blonde purple

Take your long locks to the salon and ask about this ash blonde violet hair color. You will never have colored hair again.