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churchofthesluttyknee · 6 months ago

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A Series of Firsts: Chapter 6 - Glimpses of You. Pt 2

Author(s): A collaboration amongst smutty parishioners of The Church of the Slutty Knee

Pairing(s): Pedro x Oscar

Rating: E18+ MDNI

Word Count: pending

Series Warnings: explicit sexual content, including, but not limited to BDSM, choking, anal, oral, masturbation (self/mutual), toys, public sex

Chapter Summary: Pedro and Oscar face the challenge of being separated due to work commitments after Pedro's project extends much longer than expected, straining their relationship as this marks the first significant period they've spent apart since they began dating.

Notes: Chapter begins June 22, 2019, ends around November 2, 2019.

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Act V: Surprise

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In the four weeks since Pedro had expressed his difficulties in coping with their extended separation, Oscar had been sure to find extra time throughout the week to give Pedro any extra emotional support he needed, while also allowing him to release his stress in a healthier way. While he didn’t completely lift the restrictions they’d established, Oscar did loosen them considerably. These adjustments seemed to have a positive impact on Pedro’s overall mood and mental health. He was having a hard time adjusting too, but knowing he could be a rock for Pedro made it a little more bearable. The rewrites, and resultant reshoots, unfortunately, had not stopped. In fact, as they were about to learn, they had gotten far worse.

On the morning of September 19, Oscar lies in bed, awake, but not ready to start the day just yet. Morning sun streams in from glass doors leading onto a small garden patio. When a text notification sounds just after 9:30, Oscar is delighted to see it’s from Pedro, informing Oscar that he has a few hours before filming resumes and to call when he wakes up. His slippers shuffle quietly on hardwood as Oscar makes his way to the kitchen, where he pops a coffee pod into a single cup brewer and a bagel into the toaster, before moving back down the hall to the bathroom. When he returns, he takes his coffee and bagel to the patio. Propping his feet on the wrought iron table, Oscar takes a bite of breakfast as he listens to the weird ring of his international call. Pedro picks up halfway through the second ring.

“Hey, sexy!” Pedro says jovially as soon as he sees Oscar’s face.

“Hey to you too, gorgeous. How are you?”

“Good, now that I’m talking to you. I didn’t wake you up with my text, did I?”

“No, mi amor, I was already awake. Just enjoying the morning before I have to head uptown. How are things on set today?”

“Surprisingly not too bad. I’ve not gotten any new pages all day. There’s a real chance we could finish this thing on time and I could be back in New York by the 29th.”

Oscar can picture Pedro coming through the gates with his bags. Can see his eyes alight when Pedro spots him from across the terminal. A huge grin spreads across his face at the thought of finally being able to see his Pedrito again. To touch him, to smell him, to taste him again, after being apart for so long.

“I can’t wait until you’re home again, mi Pedrito! I fucking miss having you close to me. So I can touch you, and kiss you, whenever I want to.”

“Me too, mi luna! This distance is killing me. I just want to—, uh, hold on a second. Someone just walked in.” Placing his hand over the microphone, Pedro speaks to the newcomer. Oscar can’t hear the conversation very well, but he does hear Pedro’s response with resounding clarity. “God damn it!! Are you fucking kidding me, Trevor? Please tell me this is a fucking joke!” Oscar can hear Trevor mumbling in response while quickly retreating, then a door slamming as he leaves the room.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me,” Oscar says gently when Pedro returns to the phone. Breathing heavily, Pedro lets out a heavy sigh before answering.

“These god damned rewrites and reshoots have completely fucked the schedule, and now we’re not gonna wrap until fucking October 15th!! I swear to god, Oscar, if that asshole Kyle comes in here—“

Oscar cuts him off before he can say something he may regret. “Pedro, baby, calm down. It’ll be ok, we’ll make—“

“No, Oscar, it fucking won’t be ok!! Oh my god, I’m freaking out over here. Why can’t I just wake up from this nightmare?” Pedro says, his breathing becoming impossibly fast. Oscar can hear it in Pedro’s voice that he is spiraling.

“Pedro, Pedro, breathe baby, breathe. The 6th is just a day. Being together, or not, won’t change its significance. We can celebrate the entire rest of October if you want. We both knew not being able to be together to share something was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Ugh, you’re right. I’m sorry for snapping at you, mi corazon. This whole thing has been a gigantic clusterfuck, but I had no right to respond the way I did. I overreacted and now I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. This whole project has been a shit show of epic proportions, and my nerves are absolutely shot. It’s just been one thing after another. But I shouldn’t have gone off on Trevor like that, kid’s just the messenger. I have to go apologize, babe. Call you back in a few minutes?”

“Of course. Take care of what you need to. I’ll be here for a few more hours,” Oscar assures him.

Forty-five minutes pass before Oscar’s phone rings. When Oscar accepts the FaceTime request he’s met with a screen full of brilliant blue sky, patches of fluffy white clouds and a tuft of unmistakable brown hair. Oscar grins and tries to stifle a giggle. Before he speaks he grabs a quick screenshot because this image is too perfect not to save.

“Hey, babe. You there?”

“Oh, hey,” Pedro replies, as if shocked Oscar is on the line. Picking up the phone, Pedro looks at Oscar’s face and smiles his adorable little half smile. “Sorry, guess I spaced out for a second.”

“Did you get things straightened out with Trevor?”

“Yeah. Poor kid’s terrified of me now though. He flinched when I approached him, Oscar. Fernando is the only other person who’s ever flinched when they saw me… for good reason, mind, but it’s weird having this kid be afraid of me. Frankly, I hope Fernando flinches at me for the rest of his life, especially if I’m holding a fork… but I don’t want this kid to be afraid of me.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around. I know you’re a cuddly tiger, but you can be quite intimidating,” Oscar replies flirtatiously.

“Soy tu tierno tigre, y tu eres mi feroz gatito (I'm your tender tiger, and you're my fierce kitten),” Pedro replies playfully. “After I cooled down and spoke to Trevor I went to see Kyle. Without going into details that are none of his fucking business I told Kyle I won’t be on set on the 6th. Since Trevor had already talked to him and told him I was seething mad, Kyle didn’t even put up any resistance. I have to be on set on the 5th and 7th though. So, while I can’t whisk away to come see you, I can at least have the day to celebrate with you,” Pedro says with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll clear my calendar and we can spend all day talking on the phone. Maybe we can even FaceTime a meal together,” Oscar says happily.

He can already feel the cogs churning in his mind though, a quiet plan quickly formulating. As soon as he’s off the phone he contacts his agent to make travel arrangements. Before the day is over he has a one way, non-stop ticket out of JFK. He grins like an idiot when he sees his 13-digit ticket number is made up of their birthdays and anniversary, albeit in absolutely no clear order. Only someone looking for the connection would see it.

Although they talk and text as often as their schedules allow, Oscar gives no hints of his plans to Pedro. After researching the area for a few days, Oscar begins to create a loose schedule that includes dinner reservations for the 6th, and a private boat rental for the weekend. He’s already reached out to Franklin, who was thrilled to be part of making this trip possible, and gladly provided Oscar with Pedro’s hotel information and added Oscar as a guest to avoid any issues with hotel management and security. The plan was for Oscar to slip into Pedro’s room while he was on set and surprise him when he returned. Oscar already had it worked out in his mind how it would go and was excited to finally see his Pedrito again.

His plane leaves JFK the evening of October 4, arriving just before 9 AM in Malta the following morning. Pedro isn’t scheduled to be on set until 10 AM, so Oscar stops at an airport coffee shop for a quick breakfast before heading to the hotel. Forty minutes later Oscar has checked into the hotel and is putting his things away. Knowing Pedro won’t call for a few more hours, he sets an alarm for 1:30 and crawls onto the king bed. Burying his face deep in Pedro’s pillow Oscar inhales his lover's scent and is asleep almost instantly.

When his alarm goes off three hours later it takes him several moments to remember where he is. Looking at his watch, he calculates that he has about 7-8 hours to get everything set up. He calls down to the front desk and is transferred to Luca, the concierge. Oscar proceeds to order large bouquets of daisies, in white, lilac and pink, as well as lilac roses, a bottle of local vintage wine and a tiny stuffed tiger. From guest services he orders two plush robes, two sets of slippers and an extra set of towels. With the exception of the flowers and wine, everything is delivered within an hour. Luca tells Oscar it took quite a few calls to find the tiny tiger, and that he got two because he wasn’t sure the one was small enough. When they’re delivered Oscar assures him they’re both perfect.

At 3 PM, on the dot, Oscar’s phone rings. Brimming with excitement and anticipation, it’s all Oscar can do to not ruin his surprise. Since their schedules have been relatively consistent these past few weeks Oscar has a fairly solid outline for Pedro’s day. They’ll talk until about 5 while Pedro eats lunch, then he’ll stay on set until 7 or 8. After that he’ll return to the hotel to wind down a little, then go out for dinner. When Pedro asks Oscar what he’s been up to, Oscar doesn’t lie to Pedro, but he also doesn’t share more information than absolutely necessary. When their call ends just before 5, Oscar checks his to-do list. Now that he knows Pedro will wrap at 7:30 he orders the flowers be brought up at 6 and the wine at 7:45. For the next three and a half hours Oscar works to prepare the room. The bed, and surrounding floor, are adorned with a delicate tapestry of fragrant flower petals imbuing the room with their sweet essence. After the wine arrives, and Oscar eyes the room to make sure he’s not overlooked anything, he disappears into the bathroom. When he comes out, he’s wearing one of the plush white robes, a pair of slippers and a huge grin, but nothing else.

With bated breath Oscar waits, glancing at his phone every few minutes to gauge how much longer he has before Pedro arrives. At twelve past eight a key card beeps and the door handle engages. The way the room is set up Pedro won’t be able to see him until he’s passed through a kitchen area and short hallway. Oscar can hear Pedro putting his bag in the coat closet and suddenly his stomach is filled with millions of chaotic butterflies. It’s all he can do to keep from crying out Pedro’s name. When Pedro finally rounds the corner he’s looking at his phone. Oscar frowns slightly. This isn’t going quite as he’d expected.

Eyes still down, Pedro inhales deeply, pinpointing the fragrance of a mixture of flowers, but also an undercurrent of something warm, familiar and comforting, that he can’t quite place. One thing he does know is that none of these smells were here when he left this morning. The underlying smell, the one that somehow reminds him of home, is driving crazy because he knows what it is, but his brain just won’t make the connection. Shifting his gaze straight ahead the first thing he notices is a small table topped with a bottle of wine, two wine glasses and two distorted shapes he can’t quite make out. In his peripheral vision he sees the floor is littered with multiple shades and types of flower petals. Eyes traveling left across the room he sees more petals on the bed. As he continues to scan the room his eyes finally fall upon Oscar, who is grinning so hard his face hurts. His head tilting slightly right, Pedro blinks slowly and continues to stare, but doesn’t seem to comprehend what’s now in front of him.

“Pedro?” Oscar asks, a hint of concern and confusion in his tone. “Babe?” Oscar’s eyebrows knit together, his lips pursed, as he stands and walks over to Pedro, who is still staring blankly at him.

As Oscar closes the gap between them, Pedro’s nose, eyes and brain slowly start to communicate with one another. He now recognizes the comforting scent as Oscar’s cologne. Now that they’re standing so close to one another his synapses are finally firing. Pedro blinks rapidly as he comes out of his fugue state and finally sees Oscar for the first time.

“Oscar?” Pedro asks in bewilderment, for surely this three month nightmare has taken a twisted turn, driving him to painfully real hallucinations.

“Hey,” Oscar says softly, the look of concern melting away to reveal a relieved smile. His fingers tenderly brush over Pedro’s cheek as he stares into Pedro’s rich chocolate eyes.

Before either of them can comprehend what’s happening, Pedro’s lips crash into Oscar’s with enough force to make him take a step backwards. Pedro’s hands cup Oscar’s face as he kisses him with a feral hunger neither have ever felt before. To be wanted was one thing, but to be craved like this was exhilarating. As soon as their bodies collided Oscar felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through him like wildfire. Within mere moments he is achingly hard. His fingers weave deep into Pedro’s hair as a moan passes between their lips. Pedro’s hands release their hold on Oscar’s face, only to become lost in the forest of his hair. Grunting loudly against his lips, Pedro’s grip on Oscar’s hair tightens as he walks them to the edge of the bed. When Oscar’s knees bump into the mattress he loses his balance and falls onto the blanket of petals. He scrambles backwards as Pedro’s arms frame him and he climbs onto the bed. Each time their lips break apart Pedro surges forward seeking refuge in them, like a parched man drawn to water.

Oscar continues to clamber backwards until he hits the bank of pillows at the head of the bed. Pedro advances forward again, arms still framing Oscar’s torso, legs now straddling his thighs. Leaning back, he drinks in the sight of his paramour with eyes darkened by an insatiable hunger. Their frantic movements have caused Oscar’s robe to open, revealing his naked chest and stomach, his skin the color of toasted honey. Leering at Oscar, eyes moving slowly downward, Pedro sees the robe has opened more than he realized when his gaze falls upon the dark patch of pubic hair at the nexus of Oscar’s shaft. A low, guttural growl escapes Pedro as he licks his lips hungrily. A wicked half grin plays at Oscar’s kiss-swollen lips as he realizes just how beastial this man is behaving and he wonders briefly if he’s about to be kissed, ravaged or devoured. He finds he’s happy with any of these fates.

His scrutinizing stare intensifies as his eyes trace back up Oscar's torso, taking in every detail. When Oscar opens his mouth to speak, Pedro shakes his head almost imperceptibly, before kissing him hard. When the kiss breaks, he takes Oscar’s lower lip between his teeth, biting as gently as his ravenous nature allows. Pedro grazes his teeth over Oscar’s chin, grips his face, and lasciviously drags his tongue along Oscar’s jaw. His tongue craves to savor every inch of Oscar's body, while his hands yearn to caress it with perverse pleasure. Starved to the brink of madness, he’s unable to focus on any one area for longer than a few seconds before moving from one delicious spot to the next. Sliding the robe over Oscar’s shoulders, Pedro nips and kisses his neck, shoulders and clavicles, his mouth paying tribute to the exquisite beauty before him. Moving backwards until he’s on all fours, Pedro swirls the tip of his tongue around each of Oscar’s nipples before licking and kissing a trail to his navel.

Now resting just above Oscar’s knees, Pedro runs his fingers down Oscar’s chest until they reach the belt of his robe, the last vestige of Oscar’s feigned modesty. With great care, Pedro begins to undo the knot that has become taut during their rowdiness. Oscar places his hands over Pedro’s as his lover’s fingers work deftly to undo the belt. Once it’s undone, they languidly draw his robe back, revealing Pedro’s prize. Releasing Pedro’s hand, Oscar grips his cock and begins to work it slowly. When he looks into Pedro’s eyes he realizes Pedro is mesmerized by the sight before him, head bobbing gently in time with Oscar’s movements. Oscar moans loudly for his consort as he brushes the head of his cock with his finger. Pedro gulps loudly, slavering like a carnivore about to devour his prey. Pedro’s grin widens as he loosens himself from Oscar’s grip and begins to slide backwards along Oscar’s thighs, fingers dragging his velvet skin, until he’s straddling Oscar’s knees. Oscar immediately understands the intent behind his movement, draping his legs over Pedro’s shoulders once Pedro is nestled between his thighs. Pedro lays soft kisses along the delicate surfaces as Oscar continues to lazily work his cock, his lover’s stare never leaving his pumping fist.

Propping himself up on his left elbow, Pedro wraps his right arm around Oscar’s leg before kissing a path to his knee, and back to his inner thigh. When he’s back to start he runs his finger over Oscar’s hand, silently urging Oscar to remove it so he can take over. Oscar shivers when he feels Pedro’s tongue on the base of his erection, moaning loudly as it glides up his length. Pedro swirls his tongue over the glistening slit before taking the tip into his mouth as he takes over stroking Oscar’s cock. Before long Oscar is panting and writhing, bucking his hips until his cock hits the back of Pedro’s throat, causing Pedro to gag. Undeterred, Pedro continues to take Oscar as deep as he can while his wrist continues its rhythmic motion. When he feels Oscar’s cock twitch against his tongue, he reluctantly pulls back and bites Oscar’s right inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark and elicit a gasp of surprise. Sitting upright, Pedro quickly removes his shirt, tossing it to the floor. Undoing his button and zipper, he pulls his pants and boxers down far enough to free his own hard cock.

Now it’s Oscar’s turn to lick his lips with ravenous hunger. He slides back as far as the mountain of pillows behind him will allow so he can sit up straight. Oscar runs his fingertip in delicate circles around Pedro’s head before running his thumb along the sensitive underside of his length. As he begins to stroke Pedro’s cock he leans in and kisses him tenderly. A far departure from the lustful cravings he’s adrift in, Oscar wants to savor their reunion just a little before he lets Pedro devour him completely. Oscar works his hand as slowly as he can, worried that if he goes any faster Pedro may not be able to fight his body’s need for release. He doesn’t want three months of pent-up sexual frustration to end in disappointment. Pedro’s head lolls as his eyes roll back, a low, deep moan filling the quiet room. Oscar takes this opportunity to kiss and lick his exposed neck, relishing the taste he’s been longing for since July. Just when Oscar thinks Pedro’s appetite may have quelled, Pedro grips his hips tightly and pulls him flush before pressing his hand lightly against Oscar’s chest. His eyes half-lidded yet ablaze with unbridled lust, Pedro spits into his palm, stroking himself a few times before lining himself up at Oscar’s entrance. He gently presses his spit slicked head against Oscar’s entrance a few times before he slowly penetrates.

Moving at an achingly slow pace, Pedro buries himself to the hilt, then stops. His breath catches in his throat as the sheer heat and tightness of Oscar around his cock are almost too much to bear. Pedro presses close to Oscar, his breath warm and weighty against Oscar’s throat, seeking solace in his proximity as he attempts to steady his nerves. Oscar anchors his fingers into Pedro’s hair, pulling gently, but with authority, until Pedro is looking into his eyes. Even though he’s already claimed dominance, there’s a look of questioning in Pedro’s eyes. Has his intense hunger for Oscar’s touch made him go too far? Oscar leans in, bringing Pedro's face close to his own, their foreheads touching. Gently brushing his lips against Pedro's, he softly murmurs "yes". Just a single word, one syllable, is enough to calm Pedro’s nerves. He begins to move his hips in slow, tight circles, mustering all of his willpower to not cum immediately. Oscar bites Pedro’s chin playfully, drags his tongue across Pedro’s lips and kisses him deeply with a soft tenderness that matches the sudden mood shift. Oscar rolls his hips against Pedro’s, gradually increasing the arc of the circle, but maintaining the same slow pace. Their passionate moans reverberate throughout the room as their tempos slowly increase.

Oscar peppers tender kisses along Pedro’s shoulder, his fingertips tracing the line of his spine while Pedro kneads his fingers into the back of Oscar’s neck, his lips grazing along Oscar’s jaw. Pedro buries his face into the crook of Oscar’s neck as his hand finds Oscar’s cock, pressed between their stomachs, and begins to stroke him slowly once more. As their tempo escalates, verging on madness, Oscar caresses Pedro’s face, pulling him close. Both struggling to catch their breath, their lips meet softly as they breathe heavily into each other's mouths. They can each feel the buildup of pressure deep in their centers, that marvelous tingling sensation, as their muscles begin tightening. Their orgasms erupt at almost the same time, washing over them with such intensity they collapse into one another. Oscar’s release runs slowly down their chests, stomachs and Pedro’s hand, quite the exquisite mess. Oscar still pulses around Pedro’s cock with the aftershocks of his release. They sit in tranquil silence, gently tracing each other's features and weaving invisible poetry across their bodies, all the while exchanging tender whispers of affirmation. Pedro licks Oscar’s cum off his palm, sharing the sinful taste of him with an ardent kiss. Only for a moment, Oscar pulls back, sucking each of Pedro’s fingers clean, never breaking their eye contact as he revels in the shared taste of himself and the salt of Pedro’s skin. Once again their lips meet, tongues tangling in their carnal desire.

Pedro kicks off his pants and boxers, adding them to the crumpled shirt and robe on the floor. They lie on the bed in silence, gazing at each other’s faces for several minutes before either of them speaks.

“When did you get here,” Pedro asks, his lips pressed against Oscar’s neck, just below his ear. He smiles when Oscar shivers.

“Around 9 this morning. Had to hang out at the airport for about 40 minutes to make sure you didn’t see me.” Oscar kisses the tip of Pedro’s nose before sliding off the bed. When Pedro reaches out for him, he grins and drags his fingertips along the underside of Pedro’s arm. “I’m just going to get us some wine.”

“How did you get in here,” Pedro asks with amusement. “Did you use your charm on the front desk clerk? He’s pretty sexy.”

“I had to blow so many people to get in here,” Oscar chuckles, handing Pedro both glasses as he climbs back into bed, propping himself up on the mound of pillows. Once he’s settled, he takes his glass back and places both tiny stuffed tigers between them. “Starting with Raul at the front desk. You’re right, he is pretty sexy, but no one holds a candle to you, mi tigre,” he says sweetly, picking up the smallest of the two stuffed tigers and walking it across Pedro’s thigh and up his side.

“What are these,” Pedro asks, picking up the larger of the two tiny tigers and examining it closely.

“Un tigre para mi tigre (a tiger for my tiger), well, two tigers. I asked Luca, the concierge, to find me a tiny tiger while I got the room ready, and he got both because he wasn’t sure the one was small enough,” Oscar says, his smile radiating.

“You must have given those guys really good head to be on a first name basis,” Pedro laughs, trying not to spill his wine.

“I’ve not had any complaints so far,” Oscar retorts playfully, a mischievous smile on his lips.

“Well, you certainly won’t get any from me,” Pedro says in a sincere, yet amused, tone.

Pedro winks at him, and Oscar is worried, for the briefest of moments, that his heart may actually explode with the love he feels for this man. He inhales deeply, taking in the mingling smells of Pedro, flowers, wine and sex. It’s an intoxicating aroma, one he hopes he’ll smell for the rest of this life, and in any and all lives thereafter. A tender smile brightens Oscar’s features as he finally exhales, etching this moment into his heart. He knows he’s been staring, but there’s nothing to be done about it.

“What,” Pedro asks, becoming slightly self conscious, “do I have something on my face?”

“Only that gorgeous smile and magnificent mustache,” Oscar responds as he checks the time. “We’d better grab a quick shower and get dressed if we’re gonna make our dinner reservations on time.”

Within moments of getting into the shower they’ve forgotten all about dinner. Three long months of desire and longing and they just can’t keep their hands off each other. They make love again in the shower and by time they finally get out their reservation window has passed, so they order room service and feed each other in bed. Bellies and libidos temporarily sated they cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a bed of flower petals.

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Act VI: A Long, Long Time

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When Pedro wakes up the next morning he’s alone, lying naked atop the comforter. The room feels cold and empty. Did he imagine last night? It felt so real, so solid. Had separation anxiety finally driven him to the point of actual insanity?

When he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, he feels something on his cheek. Pulling it away, he stares at it briefly. A lilac-colored daisy petal, one of his favorite flowers in his all-time favorite color.

“Fuck. If this isn’t real, it’s the cruelest god damned dream ever,” he mutters to himself.

From the corner of his eye, he sees movement on the terrace. Oscar is sitting on a chaise drinking coffee and watching ships pass by. Pedro grins as he watches Oscar’s hair blowing in the gentle breeze off the Mediterranean Sea. Pedro steps into the bathroom and grabs the second plush white robe from a hook behind the door, splashing cold water on his face before joining Oscar outside.

As the sliding glass door opens Oscar looks over his shoulder and grins the grin of lovesick fools. Pedro can’t help but smile as the last 365 days flash before his eyes. How has it been a whole year already?

“Hola, mi carino. How did you sleep?”

“I’ve not slept this good since I left LA,” Pedro responds with a sigh. His voice suddenly vulnerable, he continues, “I still can’t believe you’re here. I’m terrified I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream.” His grin quickly turns into a grimace.

Oscar wonders whether Pedro can sense his heartache as he gazes into those wide, uncertain brown eyes, questioning the reality of the moment. Without uttering a word, he wraps Pedro in a tight, reassuring embrace, unsure of how to convince him that this is not just a dream. The euphoria of their previous night has evaporated, leaving behind a lingering sense of doubt and disbelief.

"I'm here, my love, always here for you. I'll be by your side until we're ready to go home," Oscar assures him, kissing him gently on his cheek. Pedro's tears begin to flow softly, as he nestles his face into Oscar's neck, inhaling his comforting scent. All Oscar can do is caress his back and run his fingers through his hair, offering silent solace. They hold each other tightly for several minutes, rocking gently.

As Pedro’s tears subside, he takes a small step back. “I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to—,”

"Hush now, my love. There’s no need for apologies. I know how hard this has been for you. I only wish I could've been here sooner," Oscar whispers, his touch gentle as he caresses Pedro's cheek. Their lips meet in a tender kiss, filled with longing yet soft and romantic. “Do you feel like getting some breakfast?”

Within fifteen minutes they’re downstairs in the hotel restaurant browsing the menu. Their feet caress each other under the table as they savor their food. Beaming with delight, they relish the thrill of being together again after such a long time apart.

When they’ve had more than their fill at breakfast they take a stroll through the city streets, admiring the beauty of their surroundings as Pedro points out some of his favorite places. They wander through small, local artisan shops, buying the occasional piece of artwork or furniture. Most of these purchases are prepared for shipment to either Los Angeles or Brooklyn. Visiting small fruit stands they sample several pieces of exotic fruit, requesting some to be delivered to the hotel. They also purchase small trinkets to exchange since their actual gifts are in Brooklyn. Oscar regrets not bringing their gifts with him, but he didn’t want to risk them being lost by the airline.

Around 1:30 pm they stop for lunch at a cozy little cafe before walking down to the beach. Afterwards they walk, hand in hand, along the water’s edge in silence, holding their shoes as the warm water splashes against their bare feet. When they come upon a secluded stretch of beach they sit on the white sand and watch the waves crash against the shore. Pedro leans his head on Oscar’s shoulder, with one hand resting on Oscar’s right thigh. Oscar, in turn, places his hand atop Pedro’s, his fingers tracing delicate lines across its surface. They sit on the shore for several hours, talking about everything and nothing. After a while Pedro curls up beside Oscar, lying his head in Oscar’s lap. Oscar runs his fingers through Pedro’s hair, and before long Oscar can hear Pedro’s light snore. They stay like this until Pedro’s growling stomach wakes him up. Walking back into town, they dine at the restaurant they missed their reservation for the previous night. By the time they return to the hotel the sun is starting to set. They sit on the terrace and watch it slip below the horizon while they sip wine.

“This view is stunning. Do you get to enjoy it often?”

“At least once a day I try to sit out here and watch the boats pass. There are fewer at night, but sometimes they’ll be lit with string lights. Those are my favorite.”

When Oscar’s glass is empty, he stands, taking Pedro’s empty glass with him as he goes inside to refresh their drinks. Upon his return, he sets their glasses on a small table before moving behind Pedro, where he begins to massage his shoulders. He can feel so much tension stored there. His thumbs work deep into the tissue, slowly loosening the muscles. His right hand glides, palm extended, tracing down Pedro’s chest, over his abdomen, before gently lifting the hem of Pedro’s shirt. Pedro leans forward just enough to allow Oscar to pull his shirt off, before tossing it on top of the now vacant lounger. As he reclines, Oscar tenderly kisses Pedro's warm skin, planting a trail of kisses from the nape of his neck to just beneath his earlobe. Pedro moans softly as Oscar nibbles, his left hand running over Pedro’s chest. Gently squeezing Oscar's hand and giving a slight tug, he silently encourages Oscar to come around. Oscar's fingers lightly brush against Pedro's shoulder as he moves around to the front of Pedro's chaise lounge and settles himself astride Pedro's thighs. Hands on Pedro’s sides, Oscar leans in, kissing his lover deeply. Pedro's hands rest high on Oscar's back, gliding downward with deliberate slowness. Upon reaching the hem of Oscar's shirt, he firmly grasps it with both hands, leisurely slipping it over Oscar's head and casually tossing it on top of his own. Hands resting on Oscar’s hips, Pedro licks his lips as he takes in the sight before him, a view he’s missed for what feels like an eternity. As his gaze travels over Oscar's physique, Oscar leans in close, his lips nearly brushing against Pedro's, his warm breath heavy against Pedro's moist lips.

“Touch me,” Oscar commands quietly.

“Where?” Pedro asks, suddenly nervous and unsure of himself. Having spent so many months apart has made it feel like it’s his first time all over again.

“Wherever you want to, Pedrito. You’re in charge. I’m yours to do with as you please.”

Grasping Pedro’s hands, he guides them up his stomach, pressing them firmly to his own chest. Oscar craves Pedro’s touch in every way imaginable, utterly consumed by his tactile desire. Even though they couldn’t keep their hands off each other the night before, it still feels like he’s not felt the heat of Pedro’s hungry touch for a lifetime. Leaning in, Pedro brushes his lips gently against Oscar’s, savoring the moment, while his hands move up and down Oscar’s chest. His fingers move across Oscar’s skin as if he were reading an enthralling story written in braille. A soft moan escapes Oscar’s lips as Pedro lightly drags his nails over his lover's nipples and ribs. When his fingers reach the top of Oscar’s shorts, they hook into the waist, pulling the band taught, until he can see the dark grove of Oscar’s pubic hair. The band sounds a satisfying snap as he releases it, causing Oscar to inhale sharply. Oscar bites his lower lip as Pedro’s fingers brush over the outline of his awakening cock. Fingers glide delicately over Oscar's thighs, tracing a path to his knees. When he reaches the hem of Oscar’s shorts, his hands discreetly slip beneath the fabric, his thumbs exerting gentle pressure as his hands move up Oscar’s inner thighs, eliciting a satisfying groan for his efforts. He continues to run his hands up and down Oscar’s thighs in this manner, each upward journey bringing him closer to his prize, but deliberately never quite reaching it.

“God I’ve missed this so much, your touch, your scent, your taste,” Pedro whispers as he leans in, his forehead resting against Oscar’s. Their noses nestle together seamlessly as Pedro tenderly presses his lips to Oscar’s in a series of innocent kisses.

“Me too, Pedrito,” Oscar says softly, his fingers gently caressing Pedro’s back. “The night you left was hard. I was sitting alone in the LA house completely immersed in you, yet you were getting further and further away from me. I sat on the balcony for hours just staring out into the city, willing myself to stop thinking of you not being with me.” Oscar nuzzles Pedro, still so desperate for his touch. Oscar sighs. “I’d intended to head to New York anyways, but after that first night, I knew I couldn’t stay in LA. It would have driven me mad.”

“When we talked about it before I left it seemed like it would be so easy. Daily phone calls and texts, video calls when we could manage. But it was just like this never-ending series of things that prevented us from doing any of that,” Pedro replies softly.

“When I went to bed that first night, the bed seemed so big and empty. I could smell you on the sheets, could almost feel your touch, but it was always just out of reach. I’d try running my fingers over my chest, pretending it was you, I even tried jerking off, but it just wasn’t the same.” Oscar leans back, wanting to stare into those rich cocoa eyes, wanting to lose himself in them. “I decided two things that night. First, that I was going to go back to New York the next day, and second, that until we could be together again, I wasn’t going to touch myself.” His hands move slowly up Pedro’s torso, nails dragging feather soft, as they descend. “Regardless of whether we communicated via phone, video chat, or in person, I felt it wouldn't be right to deny you pleasure if I indulged in mine. So, I only allowed myself pleasure when you could share in the experience as well. It’s why I was so quick to loosen the rules. Had I known it was causing you so much distress I’d have lifted them entirely before you even left.”

“Really?” Pedro asks, his fingers still raking up and down Oscar’s thighs, still not quite reaching the apex.

Oscar shrugs as his fingers begin to fuss with the buttons of Pedro’s shorts. He grins as he unfastens each button. He’d not seen a button fly since the 90’s.

“What?” Pedro laughs.

“You’re making me work for it tonight,” Oscar chuckles.

“I don’t want you to think I’m too easy,” Pedro replies with a mischievous wink.

“I would never think that, darling,” Oscar says in a sultry tone as he pulls the fabric away, exposing the base of his lover's shaft. God how he loves it when Pedro goes commando.

Licking, then biting his lower lip, Oscar lightly runs his index finger up and down this small section of newly exposed skin. Grasping the sides of Pedro’s shorts Oscar tugs gently, prompting Pedro to lift his hips. Oscar shimmies the shorts down just enough to expose most of Pedro’s cock. Their eyes lock as he runs his index and middle fingers smoothly up and down the sides of Pedro’s exposed length. Pedro breathes slowly, deeply, gripping the edges of the chaise, hoping it will help anchor his concentration. Oscar continues this for several minutes, until Pedro is gasping, writhing under his touch.

“Do you like that, baby?”

Pedro nods as a shiver runs through him. Grasping Pedro’s shorts, Oscar slides them down until he’s just past Pedro’s knees. Pedro lifts his legs, allowing the shorts to be removed and discarded on the growing pile of clothes. Taking Pedro’s left foot in hand, he kisses from Pedro’s inner calf to his inner thigh, draping Pedro’s legs over his shoulders as he leans in closer. Oscar alternates between kissing, licking and biting both of Pedro’s inner thighs, eliciting a series of satisfying moans. He licks away pearls of precum that have started to drip down Pedro’s hard cock, before taking the tip into his mouth. When Pedro’s hips lift off the chaise, Oscar places his left hand, fingers splayed, over Pedro’s lower abdomen, gently pushing him back down. He takes Pedro deeper at an achingly slow, but exquisitely delicious, pace, until his chin rests on Pedro’s balls.

“Siete infiernos… Daddy…” Gasping for the breaths that were stolen, he curls his fingers around Oscar’s dark locks, tugging with urgency. “I need you inside me, mi amor. Fuck me until the only name I know is yours. Please…” Pedro begs with a desperate cry.

Gently resting Pedro’s legs back on the chaise, Oscar straddles his legs once more. He crawls forward on all fours, licking a slow, lascivious line up Pedro’s stomach, stopping only when his tongue glides across Pedro’s lips. Pedro grazes his teeth over Oscar’s chin before running his tongue across it. When Oscar leans back Pedro whimpers, until they make eye contact. Holding his gaze, Oscar slowly tilts his head down. Pedro’s eyes follow, as if hypnotized, being guided to the waist of Oscar’s shorts. Pedro leans in, nipping and sucking Oscar’s nipples. Fingers hooking into the elastic band once more, Pedro unhurriedly slides Oscar’s shorts down to his knees, where Oscar quickly maneuvers to discard them. He tosses them haphazardly onto the pile of their clothes, where they rest precariously on the edge of the lounger.

Eyes locked, Pedro spits into his palm, working his hand up and down Oscar’s cock. Oscar positions himself between Pedro’s drawn up legs, licking his index and middle fingers, before sticking them in Pedro’s mouth. Once they’re thoroughly wet, he runs them over Pedro’s tight hole as he lines himself up. He enters slowly, pleased at Pedro’s sharp intake of air. Even a year later it still feels like their first night together, warm and familiar, yet tight and unexplored. But he knows that last thought is incorrect, because he’s explored his lover more times than he can count, each time as exhilarating as the first. Oscar moves slowly at first, reading Pedro’s cues, before increasing his tempo. With each thrust Pedro lifts his hips, taking Oscar as deep as possible while simultaneously clenching his muscles. Oscar groans loudly at the tightening sensation. He alternates between quick, shallow thrusts and slow, deep penetration. With each slow thrust Pedro grips Oscar’s hips, pulling him deeper still, sometimes holding him in place for several seconds, ankles crossed behind Oscar’s back, savoring being completely filled.

Supporting himself on his left arm, Oscar leans in close. Pedro’s panting breaths are like fire against his lips as they crash into Pedro’s in a ravenous kiss. His right hand encircles Pedro’s cock, stroking him between their stomachs. It’s almost too much for either of them to bear after so many months of limited contact. Oscar bites Pedro’s shoulder just hard enough to elicit a passionate cry.

“There it is, mi tigre. I want the people across the sound to hear how much you’re enjoying yourself. I want them to be able to hear those feral sounds you’re making for me. I want them to know you belong to me!”

Under the starlit sky Pedro's voice quivers as he confesses to Oscar, "You own every part of me. My every breath, my every heartbeat. My soul."

"And I am entirely yours, in every conceivable manner, in every possible universe,” Oscar whispers against Pedro’s kiss swollen lips.

Their tongues delicately brush against each other's as they exhale heavily into one another's mouths, their lips tantalizingly close but never quite touching. He can see the telltale signs that Pedro is precariously close to the edge. Oscar presses Pedro’s cock against his own stomach as he ruts harder, the friction of Pedro’s cock grinding against his abdomen a sinful pleasure. The sounds this elicits from Pedro are absolutely obscene and Oscar isn’t sure if either of them can last much longer.

“Say my name when you cum for me,” Oscar whispers into Pedro’s ear.

Even though it wasn’t a command, those three words never fail to drown him in the sea of pleasure. Pedro cries Oscar’s name to the stars that pepper the night sky as his cock spasms with his release. Pedro’s glistening cum drips in thick rivulets down Oscar’s chest and hand, pooling where their bodies meet.

“Cum for me, Daddy, I want to feel you explode inside of me!”

Pedro’s wishes ever his command, Oscar thrusts deeply into his lover, the sound of his hips hitting Pedro’s thighs like gunshots in the still of the night. Oscar vocalizes loudly as Pedro’s muscles pulse around his throbbing cock, his cum erupting with enough force to temporarily expel the air from his lungs. Panting heavily, Oscar licks the spend that’s ran down his palm and forearm. Still embedded, relishing the heat and involuntary muscle contractions, his hips work slowly back and forth. Oscar runs his hands over his chest, glazing Pedro’s release across his torso. Leaning forward, Oscar cups Pedro’s face with both hands, gently pulling him forward. Pedro props himself up with his left hand, right arm wrapping around Oscar’s neck, fingers lost in soft curls. Oscar kisses him greedily before licking Pedro’s face clean. Now it’s Oscar’s turn to lean back as Pedro licks his essence off Oscar’s chest, savoring the taste of them.

Oscar feels himself slowly sliding out as Pedro reclines once more, back flush against the lounger. Pressing Pedro’s legs against his stomach, Oscar lays prone between them and watches his cum trickle out of Pedro’s stretched hole before lapping it up with his tongue. Once every last drop has been claimed, Oscar props himself up enough to allow Pedro to stretch his legs out, before crawling up far enough to lay his head on Pedro’s still quivering stomach. Pedro’s fingers twirl around Oscar’s damp curls as they work to steady their breathing as they lie in the moonlight, spent and sated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Act VII: Adrift In A Sea of Bliss

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following weeks pass in a flurry of utter madness. One extra week quickly becomes three. Each one filled with ten to twelve hour workdays, five days a week, until production finally manages to wrap the shoot on Tuesday, October 29. True to his word, Oscar remains by Pedro’s side throughout the concluding weeks of production, never missing a day on set. When they walk off set for the final time Pedro is in one of his joyfully chaotic moods. Oscar hasn’t seen him this happy since the party at Jason’s house in July.

“Now that you’re finally free, what do you want to do?”

Pedro looks at his phone and sees it’s late, too late to really go anywhere or do anything outside of bar hopping, and he’s not in the mood for that. Pursing his lips, he ponders for several moments before it comes to him.

“There’s a beautiful place just outside of town called Hastings Gardens. The views are magnificent from every side.”

They stop at the hotel concierge desk where Luca has left a picnic basket full of local fruits, wine, small glasses and a blanket. As Pedro runs their stuff to the room Oscar asks Luca to reschedule the private boat charter one last time. Minutes later a private car drops them off just outside of the garden entrance. They walk around the park, taking time to appreciate the beauty of nature in an area encased by stone. After a brief walk around the rim of the park they settle at a spot overlooking the glittering beauty of Manoel Island. Lights sparkle on the rippling waters surrounding the small land mass. They unfurl their blanket on the garden’s sloping concrete border, watching passing ships as they savor fresh fruit.

“I’m so glad this is finally over. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.” Pedro pauses, his brow creasing, “I was starting to resent even coming here. This whole experience almost ruined this country for me.” Taking Oscar’s hand, Pedro looks deep into his eyes. “And thank you for coming. I’d have probably spiraled way worse than I did had you not come.”

Oscar turns their coupled hands over, pressing his lips tenderly to the back of Pedro’s.

“Sabes que haría cualquier cosa por ti, mi corazón. (You know I would do anything for you, my heart.) I’m sorry this turned out to be such a bad experience for you, but I’m grateful it hasn’t diminished your appreciation for the location.”

Pedro leans into Oscar, resting his head on his shoulder. They sit, fingers entwined, gazing at the city below. As Pedro nuzzles Oscar’s neck his eyes cast upward. He gasps softly. He’d been so focused on the beauty below he almost didn’t notice the beauty above them. The Milky Way glows in brilliant hues of purple, blue and pink. In the stillness of the night, under the Milky Way, they lay holding hands until the park closes at 10 PM.

***

When they return to the hotel they undress and lie naked in bed, legs entangled. They lay in silence for several minutes, lost in one another’s gaze. Pedro softly glides his fingertips up and down the curve of Oscar’s side, while Oscar delicately traces the contours of Pedro’s face. With each pass, Pedro’s fingers travel further south, until finally reaching his hip, where fanned fingers move slowly over Oscar’s pelvis. Running his middle finger up and down Oscar’s sleeping length, Pedro smiles impishly when he feels his lovers cock twitch.

“You are insatiable, mi tigre. Just one of the millions of things adore about you.”

Oscar slides forward until they’re almost nose to nose. Seizing Pedro’s chin, he trails his tongue across the side of Pedro’s face before gently nudging his nose. Pedro tilts his head, exposing the thick column of his neck, where Oscar nips and sucks until a bluish-purple blush darkens the skin. When Pedro’s lips part in a low moan, Oscar takes the plump lower lip between his teeth before kissing him ravenously. Before he realizes what’s happening, Oscar is flat on his back, Pedro straddling his thighs. A low, primal growl escapes him when Pedro starts grinding against his pelvis. When he attempts to sit up, Pedro pins him to the bed with his left hand.

Arching forward, pressing both hands to Oscar’s stomach, Pedro licks his lips as he continues to move his hips with precision. Eyes alight with mischief, he takes Oscar’s hands, guiding them up his thighs. Oscar’s nails bite into muscle, his skin burning from the heat of Pedro's cock pressing against him as Pedro grinds harder still. Oscar’s cock throbs with need, the friction almost too much to bear. Oscar groans loudly as he reaches for Pedro’s hips, gripping them tightly. He bucks involuntarily as his lover continues to ride him, Pedro’s nails dragging across the velvety soft skin just below Oscar’s navel.

Oscar moans softly, biting his lower lip. Turning his head to the side, he whispers “You feel so good against me.”

"I know you want me, Oscar," Pedro pants as he continues to grind against him. "You want my cock, don't you?"

Retrieving the lube from the small bedside table, Pedro reaches down between them, grabbing hold of Oscar's throbbing member. He applies the sticky liquid liberally onto Oscar’s cock, feeling it grow harder beneath his touch, stroking it slowly, until he’s fully erect. He rubs Oscar’s head over his entrance before slowing lowering himself onto it. Pedro moans softly in his lover's ear as he takes him deeper. Hips moving in slow, wide circles, he guides Oscar’s hand to his own erect member, encouraging Oscar to touch and explore him as he continues to ride him.

"I want you to stroke my cock while I ride you," he says as he leans forward, pressing his hips against Oscar's. "I want to feel your hands all over me while you’re inside me,” he whispers against Oscar’s lips in a low, sultry tone, before leaning back to give Oscar full access to his body. "Make me cum for you.”

"Anything for you," Oscar gasps, wrapping his fingers around Pedro's hard length, stroking him firmly but gently. He can feel the heat radiating off Pedro's skin as the heady scent of sex fills the air around them.

Pedro’s head lolls back as he moans with pleasure, his love bite glowing in the dim light of the bedside lamp. His hips roll in quick, concentric circles, as he continues to fuck himself on Oscar’s cock, giving his ass a thorough pounding. Having this control over Oscar is exhilarating and he finds he’s not felt such a marvelous ache since the first time Oscar edged him. This ache is almost insufferable, yet oddly euphoric. He feels as though he’s chasing a high he just can’t quite grasp. He loves being at Oscar's mercy, completely under his control, he always has. And yet, even as he enjoys every moment of it, Pedro knows that right now he needs more than just this if he’s going to finally reach that high he’s chasing so desperately. He needs to feel Oscar clenching around his throbbing cock, which has already started leaking with evidence of his pleasure.

"Oscar," he manages between gasping breaths. Leaning over Oscar, his damp curls framing his face, Pedro nibbles Oscar’s earlobe before growling quietly in his ear, “I want to fuck you until the only coherent sound you can make is my name.”

They maneuver around on the bed until they’re sitting on their knees face to face. Oscar runs his thumb over Pedro’s crown before bringing it to his lips. His eyes dark with desire he licks his thumb slowly, savoring the taste, before reaching for the lube. Pedro guides Oscar’s hand as they spread the gel over Pedro’s cock. With a devilish smirk Pedro makes a twirling motion with his finger. Oscar bites his lower lip, kisses Pedro quickly and slowly turns around. Pedro places Oscar’s hands on the headboard and nudges Oscar’s leg with his knee. In silent obedience Oscar spreads his legs and leans forward. He gasps at the sudden cold as Pedro applies the lube, running his finger around the edge before slowly inserting a finger, then two, to help loosen him up.

Placing the container back on the nightstand, Pedro bites Oscar’s shoulder as he aligns himself. Feeling Pedro’s tip at his eager entrance, Oscar pushes himself backwards, achingly slow, until he’s accepted Pedro’s full length. Oscar groans as Pedro starts to move, slowly at first, but quickly gaining momentum. Left hand gripping his hip, Pedro snakes his right hand around Oscar’s waist, fingers fanning out over his stomach. Pedro's fingers glide down his lover's cock with tantalizing slowness, his thumb hooking over the base of it as he circles around the underside of his balls. He strokes him in this tight arc for several seconds before moving his hand to fully grip Oscar's shaft. As he continues to stroke him, Pedro ruts himself deeper and harder.

Pedro leans forward and whispers into Oscar's ear, "You like it when I touch you like this? When I stroke you and fuck you? Do you want to cum, mi gatito? ¿Le vas a pedir a tu tigre que te de el placer que deseas (Are you going to ask your tiger to give you the pleasure you want)?”

Oscar moans softly in response, nodding eagerly as he tightly clutches the headboard. Pressing his ass back against Pedro’s hips, Oscar looks over his shoulder at Pedro. Baring his gritted teeth, he continues to push back, impaling himself again and again as hard as he can.

“I want to feel your hand gripping my throat while you fuck me. Choke me until I see stars. Make me beg for it like the dirty little slut that I am.”

Their grunts and groans fill the room as they go harder. Soon the headboard is banging violently against the wall with an erratic rhythm. Pedro briefly releases Oscar’s cock, weaving his fingers deep into Oscar’s hair, pulling it tightly before pushing his face against the wall. Oscar moans loudly as stars dance across his backs of his eyelids.

“Pedro, you’re so fucking amazing. It feels so god damned good when you touch me, when you fuck me. I want to cum for you, mi tigre. Please, baby, let me cum for you. I need it, baby, I need it so bad. I want to paint these walls with my cum for you, Pedro… please.”

Pedro's fingers still grip Oscar's throat and stroke his cock as he leans in to lick a bead of sweat from between Oscar's shoulder blades. The sensation sends a shiver down Oscar’s spine and Pedro can feel himself growing even harder at the thought of having complete control over his lover.

"You taste so good," he murmurs softly, his lips trailing down Oscar's back. “I wanna let you cum, baby, I do. But first, you’re gonna have to tell me how badly you need it,” Pedro purrs against Oscar’s sweat slicked skin.

“I’m gonna go mad if I can’t cum for you, mi tigre. The feel of you, everywhere, all at once, it’s almost too much to bear.” His voice just above a whisper, Oscar begs softly, “please, baby, please let me cum for you.”

“Hmm, I love hearing you be submissive. It’s no wonder it turns you on so much to hear me beg. Cum for me, gatito,” Pedro whispers into his ear, his hand pressing Oscar’s cock flat to his stomach.

Oscar’s body vibrates like a tuning fork as his orgasm runs through him, expelling his release all over his chest and stomach. As the waves of euphoria continue to crash, Oscar’s muscles contract tightly around Pedro’s cock, the spasms driving Pedro to near dizziness. Releasing his grip from both Oscar’s throat and cock, Pedro firmly grips Oscar’s hip with one hand and places his other flat against the wall next to Oscar’s. Pedro rests his head on Oscar’s shoulder as he nips at the tender skin of the crook of his neck.

“God, you’re so tight, baby... fuck, mi gatito, you’re squeezing me so tightly with that perfect ass of yours. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yes,” Oscar pants as another wave of pleasure ripples through him and he involuntary clenches down on Pedro’s cock again.

“Just like that, fuck! I’m gonna fill you up with my cum and watch it seep out of that tight hole of yours, soaking my cock, mi puta!” Pedro exclaims as his orgasm starts to build, radiating from his center, pulsing through his body like electricity. His balls tighten as his seed fills Oscar, hot and thick, his fingers pressing deep into Oscar’s hip.

Oscar winces and lets out a soft hiss as Pedro's nails dig into his skin, relishing the sensation of delicious pain. He reaches back, gripping Pedro’s side as another shockwave travels up his spine. Pedro's palm meets Oscar's hand, their fingers intertwining as he guides them to Oscar's chin. With a gentle touch, he turns Oscar's head to the side, placing a tender kiss on his lips. Fingers still interlaced, Pedro peppers a trail of soft kisses down Oscar’s neck and across his shoulder. He kisses Oscar’s palm as he backs up, leaving Oscar feeling empty. Helping Oscar off the bed, Pedro kisses him deeply and leads him to the shower.

***

When they finally awake the following morning Pedro stretches lazily and yawns. A glance at the bedside table reveals it’s almost noon. After a leisurely lunch they take a car to the local marina, where a lone ship sits in the last slip at the end of the dock. Nauti Buoy is written across the stern. When Oscar points out that this is the boat he's rented for them, Pedro is surprised by how luxurious it looks. He’s been on plenty of boats in his lifetime, but none quite like this. As they climb aboard, he feels a sense of anticipation building inside him.

As the ship leaves the marina Oscar gives Pedro a tour of the upper decks. When Pedro heads towards the stairs leading to the lower desks, Oscar stops him, assuring him they’ll explore the lower decks after dinner. They ride north, admiring the crystal waters and ancient landscapes. Pedro loves being out on the water like this, surrounded by nothing but open space and endless possibility. Two and a half hours later they pass by Blue Lagoon, a secluded island beach. The medium sized yacht drifts past a packed ferry dock, before dropping anchor in a truly secluded cove. They alternate between swimming in the warm waters of the Mediterranean and lying on the white sand beach until the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

When they return to the boat Pedro is surprised to learn the vessel actually has four crew members instead of just two, including a chef. They dine on the very top deck, overlooking the water as the sky darkens. After dinner it’s finally time to explore the lower decks. The first of the two has sleeping quarters and a kitchen. While there is plenty of room to comfortably accommodate everyone presently onboard, Oscar explains that the crew will be staying ashore while they’re anchored in the cove. After they’ve toured each room on this deck they make their way deeper into the vessel.

Oscar opens a door at the end of the hall and flips a switch. As their eyes adjust to the light Pedro takes in the sight before him and blushes. This room is unlike anything he has ever seen. The walls are lined with various devices designed to assert, or relinquish, control. While Pedro is no stranger to many of the devices hanging neatly from hooks on the wall, he’s not had personal experience with any of them. A swing, suspended from the ceiling, hangs in the far corner of the room. He knows that, before the weekend is over, he’ll become very familiar with many of the devices here.

As they walk through the room, Oscar points out various instruments, explaining their function and operation. Pedro is especially intrigued by a pulley system in the middle of the room, which connects to points on both the ceiling and the floor. Oscar can’t help but smile as he watches Pedro examine the room. This room was clearly designed for exploration, to allow one to let go of their inhibitions and experience new sensations in complete safety. Pedro feels a shiver run down his spine as he takes it all in, excited by the possibilities this room has to offer.

“Tell me more about this…” Pedro says, his fingers trailing over a padded leather wrist restraint, which is part of the pulley system that caught his eye when they first walked in.

“Hmm, this is one of my favorites,” Oscar says, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Oscar can see that Pedro is nervous, but excited. Taking his hand, Oscar kisses him softly as he unbuckles the first wrist restraint. To Pedro’s surprise, Oscar hands him the cuff and extends his arm. Nodding his head, Oscar grins as Pedro hesitantly fastens the strap around his wrist.

When the first strap is secured Oscar gestures to the second one.

“What if someone comes down here?” Pedro asks nervously.

“They’ve already left for the mainland, darling. It’s just you and me.” He stares into Pedro’s eyes, sensing his trepidation. "I trust you," he says simply, giving Pedro a meaningful look that tells him everything he needs to know.

Pedro feels a bolt of excitement run through him at these three simple words. He has never been given this level of control in their game play before, and it's both exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. But he knows that he can handle it, for Oscar's sake, if not his own. After the second strap is secure, Oscar motions to a metal rod on the floor. Pedro drops to his knees and examines the straps at either end. Although he doesn’t know the name of this device, he has a fairly good idea of what it does. Slowly but surely the restraints are fastened around Oscar's body, and Pedro feels more powerful with each buckle that clicks into place. When Oscar’s wrists and ankles are finally bound, and the nylon ropes pulled taut, Pedro feels a sense of satisfaction unlike anything else in the world. He takes a step back to admire his work, gazing at Oscar with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he wants him.

"Are you comfortable? Nothing’s too tight?" Pedro asks softly, running his fingers over the soft padding that extends slightly past the leather on Oscar's wrist.

"It’s perfect and I'm more than comfortable," Oscar replies with a grin. "I’m incredibly fucking turned on."

“I can see that,” Pedro says looking down at the bulge in Oscar’s swim shorts. Seeing Oscar like this, his arms above his head, and his legs spread, is making his cock twitch. “Seeing you like this, helpless, is so fucking sexy.”

Pedro steps closer, gripping Oscar’s chin, kissing him gently on the lips, the corner of his mouth, his jaw. His lips trail down Oscar’s neck as he slowly unbuttons his lover's shirt. Fingers slipping inside, he brushes his thumbs over Oscar’s nipples before dragging his fingers down Oscar’s exposed stomach. Left hand gripping his hip, Pedro’s right rubs over the straining fabric of Oscar’s shorts, pressing the heel of his palm firmly against Oscar’s already hardening cock with each upward movement. Oscar moans each time Pedro applies pressure to his throbbing member, pushing his hips into every upward pass.

Pedro drops to his knees, kissing the fabric separating Oscar’s cock from his lips. Gripping the waist of Oscar’s shorts, Pedro slowly inches them down until his lovers' cock springs free. Oscar gasps loudly when Pedro’s nose rubs the underside of his length, the tip of his tongue drawing a line from base to tip. Pedro flicks his tongue over Oscar’s head before wrapping his lips around his thick cock. He stares up at Oscar, a wicked glint sparkling in his eyes as he watches Oscar watch him. Relaxing his jaw, Pedro takes him as deeply as he can, holding him there until he feels his lungs burn. Leaning back, he strokes his lover's shaft lazily before letting his cock slide down his throat again, keeping him there until his lungs ignite once more. Over and over again, he takes his lovers full length, while maintaining unwavering eye contact. Oscar realizes Pedro is catching on quickly as he tries to buck his hips forward, craving the heat of Pedro’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Oscar pants as he thrusts his hips forward again. “Please, baby. I want to feel you sweet lips around my cock again. You take me so well.”

He’s desperate for it and isn’t ashamed to show it. But with every thrust Pedro counters, leaning back just enough that Oscar can’t quite reach. He groans in frustration, feeling his pulse pounding against his temples. Pedro rises to his feet, turning his back to Oscar as he takes inventory of the tools at his disposal. His eyes are drawn to a suede flogger with a black and red braided handle. As he collects this from a hook on the wall Pedro spies a black satin eye mask, which he hooks onto his thumb. Oscar bites his lower lip when he sees what Pedro has found.

Pedro kisses the tip of Oscar’s nose as he slips the mask over Oscar’s eyes. As Oscar adjusts to losing a second of his five senses, his hearing becomes more attuned to his surroundings. He can hear waves gently breaking against the hull of the boat and the faint sound of rusting leather as Pedro allows the straps of the new toy to brush lightly against his bare chest. The soft suede feels amazing against his skin as Pedro guides it down his stomach and across his tender, aching member. As leather brushes over his swollen head he gasps.

“Do you like that, baby?” Pedro asks in a silky voice, enjoying his playthings involuntarily reactions to his teasing.

“It feels so good, mi tigre,” Oscar’s pants, “but nothing makes me feel quite as good as you do.” Licking his lips, Oscar continues, his tone playfully condescending. “Do you know how to use it?”

Pedro quickly takes the bait, drawing his arm back and slapping the flogger across Oscar’s chest and stomach. His strike is harder than he’d intended, but Pedro is pleasantly surprised when Oscar encourages him to put more strength behind it. With a slight hesitation, Pedro draws back again, hitting his lover harder. A satisfying snap fills the air as leather meets flesh and Pedro is rewarded for his efforts with a loud groan. Oscar licks his lips again, almost salivating, as he tells Pedro to do it again, commanding Pedro to hit him harder and lower.

“Are you sure,” Pedro asks, his tone slightly uncertain. When Oscar nods enthusiastically Pedro obeys.

The sounds of leather against leather and flesh, coupled with the feral sounds building deep in Oscar’s throat, are enough to make Pedro hard.

“Fuck, mi tigre, just like that!” Oscar exclaims, gripping the nylon ropes tightly.

Pedro smiles sinfully as he continues to flog his lover, elated by the sounds of ecstasy and the way Oscar’s body writhes with pleasure. But as much fun as as he’s having with these new toys, Pedro realizes he wants the chance to be where Oscar is now.

Kissing Oscar with a savage hunger, Pedro whispers against his lips, “Can I play now, Daddy?”

Oscar nods his head as his tongue caresses Pedro’s. Dropping to his knees, Pedro makes quick work of the ankle restraints. He drags his tongue slowly up Oscar’s length, catching pearls of pre-cum on the tip as he stands. He presses his body against Oscar as he undoes the wrist restraints, his erection pressing into Oscar’s stomach. As soon as Oscar’s hands are free, they find Pedro’s face, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Although Oscar wants to see his pet bound in the same manner he was just released from, Oscar has his sights set on a different piece of furniture. Oscar quickly shrugs off his clothes, letting them fall to the floor as he pulls Pedro’s shirt over his head. Oscar teasingly tugs at the waist of Pedro's swim trunks, gently loosening the drawstring and slowly pulling them down, appreciating the view of Pedro's cock as they fall to the floor.

Taking Pedro’s hand, Oscar leads him to the swing. Pedro’s eyes go wide as he takes in all of the straps hanging from multiple anchor points on the ceiling, wondering how in the world this device is supposed to support him. Oscar explains each piece of the swing as he helps him get safely seated. He knows that he’ll have Pedro bound by his wrists and ankles soon enough, but feels the swing is a safer introduction to this new type of play. The device has a fully adjustable back support, but Pedro can’t help but feel like he’s climbing into a hammock. He chuckles nervously as he adjusts himself in the swing, trying to get centered. Taking in Pedro’s angelic innocence as he wiggles his hips in the swing makes Oscar grin so hard his cheeks hurt. How can he be so turned on by this man, yet find him so incredibly endearing at the same time?

“I’ve got you, baby. I won’t let you fall,” Oscar assures him, unable to suppress his own laughter.

Helping Pedro lie down in the swing, Oscar kisses Pedro’s calves as he secures his feet into the stirrups. Once everything has been securely fastened and Pedro confirms he’s comfortable, Oscar steps between Pedro’s spread legs, stopping when his pelvis is flush with Pedro’s ass. His cock settles perfectly between Pedro’s cheeks as Oscar begins to rock his hips back and forth. As he explains the pulley system to Pedro, Oscar runs the palm of his hand up and down the length of Pedro’s erection, his fingers spreading to accommodate Pedro’s girth on each downstroke. It doesn’t take long at all for Pedro to start rolling his hips against Oscar’s cock as it glides over his eager entrance.

Pedro adjusts the straps of the swing so he's sitting upright, with his knees pulled to his chest. He bites his lip in anticipation as he watches Oscar stroke his cock, spreading lube around until he glistens in the warm overhead light. A soft whimper escapes him as Oscar starts to apply lube to the ring of muscle nestled between the rounded cheeks of his ass. Oscar’s thick fingers hint at what’s to come, ensuring he's ready for the press of Oscar’s cock. He gently penetrates his lover, allowing Pedro time to relax around him. Gripping Pedro’s hips, Oscar moves slowly, teasing him with the tip of his cock and groaning at how tight his pet is.

“Do you want it, mi tigre? Do you want me to fill you up, to stretch that tight little hole of yours?” Pedro nods eagerly, licking his lips hungrily. “Let me hear how badly you want my cock inside you, baby,” Oscar says as he continues to rock against Pedro’s ass, tortuously teasing his bound tiger.

Pedro attempts to move in a way that would make Oscar go deeper, but realizes he is at Oscar’s mercy. He can control the back support of the swing, but Oscar controls the entire lower half of his body. Pedro moans, partly from pleasure, partly from frustration, as Oscar pushes the tip of his cock just deep enough to open him up, then pulls out, over and over again.

“God, you feel so fucking amazing, mi tigre. So tight and warm,” Oscar purrs as he begins to stroke Pedro’s cock with languid pleasure. “Do you like being teased, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Tell me, pet, what’s your favorite kind of teasing? “

“I love it when you bring me to the edge, Daddy,” Pedro’s breath hitches as Oscar increases his tempo on Pedro’s cock, hips still rocking, still refusing his lover full penetration.

“Do you enjoy being my plaything?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Pedro pants.

Pushing his aching member slightly deeper, just enough to elicit beautiful whimpers of longing, Oscar continues to edge Pedro for several more minutes. After what feels like a blissfully infinite lifetime Pedro can finally withstand this torture no longer.

Drawing in a deep breath, Pedro growls “FUCK ME!!” His knuckles turn white as he grips the straps tightly. His entire body trembles with need.

The inexplicably commanding tone in his voice makes Oscar’s cock jump with arousal. Releasing his hold on Pedro’s cock, Oscar grips his hips tightly, fingers biting into his skin. Unable to deny his lover any longer, Oscar drives his hips forward hard, the resounding slap of flesh against flesh filling the room.

“Fuck, yes! Give it to me, Daddy!”

Oscar continues to drive into him, hard and fast. He grunts through gritted teeth each time his hips smash against Pedro’s reddening cheeks. The speed and intensity of his movements fill Pedro with a heady euphoria. Still tightly gripping the left strap, Pedro sticks his middle fingers into his mouth, sucking them fervently. He moans around them as Oscar continues to ram his cock deep into his hole, so deep he would swear Oscar is rearranging his organs.

“Te sientes tan jodidamente bien dentro de mí. ¡Sigue adelante, nunca te detengas!” (You feel so fucking good inside me. Keep going, never stop!)

Pedro pants, trying to catch his breath as he grabs his cock and begins to stroke himself. The sounds spilling from his mouth are feral, resonating from deep in his throat. He’s too lost in his pleasure to be able to speak coherently. It’s all he can do to breathe, and even that is a difficult task. Seeing Pedro in such a delirious state drives Oscar’s libido into overdrive as he continues to fuck his lover with abandon.

“Fuck me like you hate me,” Pedro demands, stroking his shaft faster, pre-cum slicking his fingers, pearls dripping onto his stomach.

Oscar pauses for a moment, balls deep, like he’s considering this command. Pedro’s hand is a blur as he continues to aggressively stroke his cock. Oscar cups Pedro’s face in his left hand, leans in, and kisses him softly. His fingers trace a delicate path through Pedro’s hair, lingering at the soft nape of his neck as his hand gently settles at the back of his head, fingers still lost in his thick curls. His lips brushing Pedro’s ear, Oscar whispers, “I love you so much, mi amor,” and quickly kisses his cheek.

A split-second later Oscar’s fingers grip the hair on the back of Pedro’s head tightly, pulling hard, until Pedro’s eyes meet his own. Momentarily caught off guard, Pedro’s hand stops mid-stroke. His eyebrow arched, a challenging expression on his face, Pedro nods, almost imperceptibly. Oscar pulls back slightly, his fingers still threaded through Pedro’s hair, then slams his hips forward with enough force to cause the swing to lurch backwards. He grunts as he continues to thrust his hips forward, his back arching with forward momentum. His speed increases with each push of his pelvis. Beads of sweat glisten on his chest and trickle down his stomach, his breathing becoming more labored.

“I’m gonna fuck that attitude right out of you, mi puta,” Oscar growls. Releasing his grip on Pedro’s hair, Oscar wraps his hands around Pedro’s thighs for leverage.

“Oh god, fuck. Yes, yes!” Pedro exclaims as he resumes masturbating. His head lulls back as Oscar continues to drive into him with no remorse.

“Make me cum, Daddy!” Pedro cries out as Oscar stretches and fills him.

“You’ll cum when I say you can cum, my little slut,” Oscar barks in response.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Oscar adjusts the position of the swing seat. His next powerful thrust hits home and Pedro cries his name in ecstasy as Oscar hits his sweet spot. He thrusts his hips forward again, Pedro’s pelvis now in the perfect position for his cock to hit that spot repeatedly. Pedro is utterly lost in pleasure. The sounds coming from him now are absolute music to Oscar’s ears and he can tell by the way his pet is writhing and moaning that he’ll cum soon, even if he’s not granted permission.

Oscar kisses and nips Pedro’s inner thighs, biding him to have a little more patience. Pedro slows his hand to a lazy stroke, his unfocused gaze shifting between the slickness on his stomach and Oscar’s sweat beaded face.

“Are you Daddy’s little slut? My dirty little cumslut?”

“Yes, Daddy!”

“Then show me, mi puta,” Oscar replies, driving into Pedro as he nips his calves.

When Oscar thrusts again it’s like he’s hit a detonator. Head lulling back and eyes closed, Pedro moans loudly as his cum spills over his chest, droplets landing on his exposed neck. Oscar bites his lower lip as his lover spasms around him, slowing down to enjoy the sensation. Waves of pleasure wash over Pedro as he tries to catch his breath. He can feel Oscar’s cock jump inside him and knows Oscar is so close to his own release. Clinching his muscles, Pedro growls when he hears Oscar groan loudly.

“Damn, baby, just a little tighter. I’m so fucking close, mi tigre!”

Pedro clenches as hard as his tired muscles will allow and Oscar finally falls into his own orgasm, filling his lover with his spend. Still nestled in his warmth, Oscar works the straps on the swing, freeing Pedro’s legs and feet, which Pedro wraps tightly around his waist. Freeing himself from the upper portion of the swing, Pedro wraps his arms around Oscar, kissing his face and neck. Nibbling Pedro’s shoulder, Oscar walks them out of the playroom, hitting the light switch on the way out.

When they’re in the boat’s master bedroom just a few steps down the hall, Oscar lays Pedro on the bed. His eyes closed, Pedro sprawls across the bed, stretching lazily as Oscar grabs 2 bottles of water from the mini fridge in the corner of the room. Setting both on a small side table, he steps into the bathroom. Pedro hears the running water but is too tired to pay it any mind. Moments later Oscar emerges holding a washcloth. Oscar sets the cloth on the small bedside table and settles in beside Pedro. Pedro snuggles up to Oscar, who pets his mewling tiger.

“You’re such an obedient boy. You were fucking amazing in there,” Oscar says, kissing the tip of Pedro’s nose and peppering Pedro’s lips with soft kisses.

Oscar runs the warm cloth over Pedro’s sweat dampened face, along his neck and over his chest and stomach, gently washing him clean.

“You look tired, love. Here,” Oscar says, passing him a bottle. “I love you so much, mi tigre. I don’t know how I lived before you.”

“I love you too, mi gatito. Sometimes, when I’m lying in your arms, I can’t imagine the world before you.”

"Happy anniversary, darling," Oscar whispers softly, as he brushes his lips against Pedro's with an innocent tenderness, yet beneath lies a subtle current of desire, a longing that speaks volumes in its restraint. They fall asleep, limbs entwined, to the soft sounds of the ocean.

Over the course of the next three days, they spend several hours in the playroom, trying out new toys and furniture. Oscar takes mental notes of what devices Pedro does, and does not, respond to. He also makes sure to keep the toys in the playroom, so Pedro has a safe space if he gets overwhelmed. And he does get overwhelmed a few times, ending one particularly intense session by saying ‘nova.’ That night, their final night in the cove, they make love on the upper deck, under the stars.

#a series of firsts #asof #latino space sisters #p&o #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #space sisters

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sunwoo-hoo · 3 years ago

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↣ the boyz reaction to s/o feeling stressed

↳ a/n: hello my lovelies! we are back with another tbz reaction! side note, with every reaction i get it’s going to be canon with my ‘as your boyfriend series’ so keep that in mind when requesting. this is for the lovely anon who requested this. i hope you enjoy it. ☻ 18+ due to language

↳ genre: fluff? slight angst? i don’t even know someone tell me

↳ requested? yes

↳ send me your requests here!

↳ word count: 3.4k

↳ the boyz x fem reader

「 Lee Sangyeon 」

you normally weren’t one to get stressed out often but when your job decided to give you a promotion you weren’t expecting the extra workload it would bring

you got assigned to one of the major projects your company was working on and slowly but surely you felt your energy draining with each day passing by

even though sangyeon was extremely busy as well he was worried about you

after coming home from a long day of practice sangyeon noticed when you weren’t in the front foyer to give him his welcome home kiss like you usually did

as he walked to your bedroom he saw you sitting by the desk typing away at your computer

as he made his way towards you he squatted down slightly to give you a warm cheek kiss

“hey baby, how about you take a break huh? you’ve been working so hard, let me cook something for you” he insisted

“hmm? oh.. okay, i’m sorry sangyeon, work has been driving me up the wall lately i didn’t mean to shut you out” you mumbled

he gave you a small smile as he stroked your cheek before replying “don’t worry about it baby i just don’t want you to overwork yourself” he said

during your break sangyeon is cooking you dinner, listening to all your troubles and even trying his best to help you with your project. by the end of the night expect a lot of cuddles and kisses.

「 Jacob Bae 」

stress was something you’ve always experienced, especially being a university student finishing your final year

jacob was super supportive of your dreams always helping you study in any way he can

sometimes even distracting you to get your mind off it so that you wouldn’t burn out

but as final exams were just around the corner you were so stressed to the point that you cried and threw your book across the table in frustration

jacob turned his head and quickly took notice since he was only a couple of feet away reading a book which he swiftly set down and rushed to your side

“oh babe, don’t cry please, i promise it’s going to be okay” he whispered as he wiped your tears away

you completely broke down sobbing uncontrollably onto jacob’s sleeve as he held you close giving you hushed praise

“how about we go and rest for a little? a nap would be good for you” he softly asked as you simply nodded

jacob helped you up as you made your way to your bedroom where he made it relaxing as possible turning on the air humidifier and lighting a lavender candle. he also made sure that the curtains were closed so that the room was dark enough to fall asleep to

soon enough your drifting into a calming sleep in jacob’s arms.

「 Kim Younghoon 」

it had been 3 months since you’ve started dating kim younghoon, your relationship was everything you could’ve dreamed of. it was absolutely perfect with no flaws what so ever.

with all that in mind you started to wonder why you both hadn’t exchange i love you’s. you knew younghoon felt strongly for you, always making sure you were taken care of, constantly hugging and kissing you.

the whole situation started to stress you out and make you second guess everything

you loved younghoon but you had to admit you were a bit apprehensive on saying it first, since you didn’t know what younghoon’s response would be.

he could’ve said it back, or worse, not say anything at all.

one evening when younghoon was sleeping over your place you decided then and there that you were going to muster up your courage and finally say the three words you’ve been stressing over.

as you both were watching t.v his arms draped over your shoulders you looked up over at younghoon who was fixated on the drama that was playing. you cleared your throat

“younghoon.. i have to tell you something… something i’ve been wanting to tell you for awhile now” you announced hesitantly

as he looked over at you he adjusted his body to fully look at you face on

“really? i actually have something to say as well” he replied

your ears perked as you continued “how about we say it at the same?”

he nodded smiling before counting down “3…2…1..”

“i love you” you said “i’m in love with you” he whispered

you breathed the biggest sigh of relief before sliding in his lap giving him the softest kiss as you felt younghoon’s arms around your waist

「 Lee Hyunjae 」

your relationship with hyunjae was many things, exciting, passionate, intense. never in a million years would you think it would be stressful, or let me rephrase: you never thought it would be this stressful

you received a text message from hyunjae one afternoon saying that he needed to talk to you and that it was important

at that moment your mind was going through so many options on what it could be, your thoughts becoming worse and worse.

oh god is this it? he wants to beak up with me

did he cheat on me? i’ll fucking kill him if he did

oh my god what if he’s not in love with me anymore?

as your mind was going a mile a minute you finally broke out of your daze when your friend who you were out to lunch with told you that it probably wasn’t all that bad and that you should trust hyunjae.

when the evening finally rolled around you went to visit hyunjae just right when he got home from practice.

“hey baby” he smiled giving you a peck on the lips, giving him a small you replied “hey” back as you two sat on the sofa

“so what’s going on?” you asked as you were rubbing your palms against your knees trying to get rid of the sweat

hyunjae instantly noticed your anxious aura and grabbed your hands holding them tightly giving them a kiss

“well, we’ve been dating for almost a year now and i think it’s time.. for you to meet my parents” he said proudly

you blinked a couple of times as your brain still hadn’t registered the information he just said

“i want them to meet the girl i’m madly in love with” he continued

when you finally heard his words your first instinct was to hit hyunjae’s arm

“ah! hey! what was that for?” he shouted rubbing his arm

“jesus christ hyunjae i thought you were breaking up with me!” you shouted back

he laughed grabbing your waist pulling you close on his lap putting his head in the crook of your neck “i could never” he whispered giving your neck a light kiss

「 Lee Juyeon 」

to say that you were having a bad week was the understatement of the year.

it all started when you caught the flu, you felt horrible. it was constant sneezing, throwing up, runny nose, all of it.

you started to feel stressed when juyeon risked his safety getting sick to take care of you. you especially didn’t want him getting sick when the boyz comeback was nearly a month away.

you told him that you could take care of yourself, but juyeon didn’t take no for an answer.

you had to admit even though you were sick you couldn’t deny that you loved having juyeon with you 24/7 he was being the perfect boyfriend getting you tea, wet cloths for your forehead, and making sure you took your medicine every night.

“open your mouth, good girl” he praised putting the spoonful of medicine in your mouth

“you know if i wasn’t sick you would be saying those exact words another way” you teased coughing slightly

juyeon smirked and kissed your forehead in response

slowly but surely after a week you were starting to feel better but then your sickness hit juyeon as predicted delaying the comeback for nearly two weeks.

「 Kevin Moon 」

it was a hard month for kevin, the boyz comeback had just started and he was stressing over all the performances and interviews wanting to make sure that each one was up to his standards

it was so bad that all his stress levels were slowing creeping up on you making you become stressed yourself

it was starting to effect your relationship and you knew you had to do something quick before you and kevin would get into a fight you were not mentally prepared for

the comeback was closing in on it’s last week and you had decided to make one evening extremely special pampering kevin.

you decided to make his favorite meal, wearing your sexy yet tasteful red dress, with your black lacy bra and matching panties for later activities.

as kevin walked into your apartment he noticed you immediately smiling at your attire

“hey babe, what’s all this?” he asked pointing to all the candles and dim lighting

“what do you mean? can’t i do something special for the man i love?” you replied innocently walking up to him giving him a soft kiss on the lips

as kevin deepened the kiss your back found it’s way to the cold wall behind you as kevin started to trail kisses along the side of your jaw making his way down to your neck

you were excited it wasn’t often that kevin was a dom but you had pressing matters to attend to first

“k-kevin wait… i want to talk first” you whimpered as he finally reached your sweet spot

kevin stopped immediately to your words and gave you a quick peck on lips before nodding

you grabbed his hand and made your way to the dining table where the food was most likely cold by now and sat down on the chair

“kev, i just wanted to talk about how you’ve been so stressed with this comeback and everything it’s.. it’s starting to effect our relationship” you mumbled

he sighed and agreed “i know it has, and i’m so sorry for that babe” he said grabbing your hand as he continued “i’ll promise to be better about it, you know that i don’t want to ruin what we have. i love you”

you smiled feeling 100 times better about the situation giving kevin a kiss on the cheek

you lightly laughed as you pulled apart “the dinner is totally cold now by the way”

“let’s just order a pizza, it probably wasn’t that good anyway” he teased before you shoved him playfully in response

「 Choi Chanhee 」

what was suppose to be a relaxing day off spending it with your boyfriend choi chanhee it drastically changed into a nightmare

you both decided to spend the day shopping for some new clothes together

at first you thought it was a cute idea, thinking you would get matching couple outfits so that you can coordinate for the upcoming summer season

but it quickly turned into a stressful day when chanhee wanted you to try on every shirt, every dress, and pants, you were starting to regret this little outing until you finally snapped at him

“love, you would look so cute in this why don’t you-”

“no!” you yelled quickly covering your mouth at your sudden outburst in public

chanhee gave you a puzzled look not expecting your sudden change in mood

you quickly apologized not wanting to start a fight in public, pulling him to the side of the store where it was secluded from prying eyes

“chanhee… i’m sorry it’s just i’m tired i thought this would be fun but it’s stressing me out, it’s all too much” you sighed looking down at your shoes

chanhee pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and lifted your head up with his index finger

“oh love, don’t apologize i should be the one apologizing i’m sorry for being excited, i just wanted to have a fun day with you, let’s go home okay?” he reassured kissing your temple

「 Ji Changmin/Q 」

you had it all planned out, you were going to introduce your friends to your wonderful boyfriend ji changmin

you ultimately thought that they should finally meet him after dating for nearly 4 months

at first you had no idea why you decided to wait this long, considering you already met all the members and were close to each of them

you were extremely nervous and stressed for their first interaction you just wanted everything to be perfect with smooth sailing

changmin was going to meet two of your closest friends who were also a couple themselves

it was a chilly fall day when you all decided to meet up at a nearby cafe changmin’s hand in yours trying to warm it up blowing on it while pressing kisses

“don’t worry babe, it’s all going to work out fine” he smiled easing your nervousness

when you finally made it to the cafe your friends were already waiting and quickly made introductions

they easily took noticed when changmin ordered your drink he knew you loved and paid for everything with his card as your friends gave you hushed whispers

“wow, he’s such a gentlemen” she gushed “yeah, and he even knew your order by heart” he replied giving you a thumbs up

you smiled when changmin returned with both of your orders giving you a cheek kiss when he sat down

to your surprise the conversation between the four of you went smoothly changmin easily wooing them with his charms and cheerful aura

your friends especially had a million questions when it came to his idol life out of general curiosity

changmin didn’t mind at all answering every single one with ease even laughing at the humorous ones

your heart melted at the interaction when you realized in the end you had nothing to worry about

「 Juhaknyeon 」

you knew juhaknyeon always loved your home cooking as he was always excited whenever he came home from practice knowing he would have a hot meal ready for him

but this time was different, you weren’t just cooking for him but cooking for his parents who so happen to be visiting you two

you met juhaknyeon’s parents before who were very down to earth and humble people always making you feel welcomed

but you had to admit you were a bit stressed trying to live up to the expectations

it was less than a couple of hours away before they would be arriving and you were running around the supermarket with juhaknyeon on your tail

“babe, slow down your gonna run out of energy” he grunted breathing heavily

“juhak you don’t understand your parents opinion mean the world to me, i want them to love my cooking” you said looking down at your hands trying to decide between the beef or pork belly

juhaknyeon gave you a side hug pulling you close “they are going to love whatever you make, because i love it too” he promised kissing the top of your head

when you finally made it back to the dorms and cooked up a storm that would’ve fed all 11 members juhakyeon’s parents finally made an appearance

after the quick greetings and the light scolding from juhak’s mother telling him to keep his room neater she finally took in your food spread

“wow! it all looks amazing [name] i’m sure it taste wonderful too” she smiled warmly pinching your cheek lightly

when you all finally sat down to eat you anxiously waited for juhakyeon’s parents comments

after a couple of bites juhak’s mother proudly exclaimed “it’s delicious [name] really! everything taste amazing, i’m so happy our son found someone who can feed him like this” she praised

you bowed your head thanking her for her positive comments as haknyeon grabbed your hand under the table squeezing it giving you a wink

「 Kim Sunwoo 」

you loved your mother dearly, but she was starting to text and call you nearly everyday about when you and sunwoo were finally going to get married

even though you loved sunwoo and were dating for a year and half you told her that it wasn’t a good time yet. sunwoo had major responsibilities when it came to his idol life

not to mention that you and sunwoo were still very young and just wanted to enjoy being together before you had to tackle even more responsibilities like marriage

you were laying in bed when you got off the phone with your mother after another hour long call

you sighed staring at ceiling fan feeling pressured and stressed when sunwoo walked in the bedroom

“hey babe, have you seen my adidas hoodie?” he wondered as he saw you looking emotionless at the ceiling

he hovered over you waving his hands across your face trying to get your attention

“hm? oh sorry it’s behind the door in the bathroom” you mumbled

sunwoo swiftly climbed on top of you resting his chin on your chest “what’s wrong babe? who was on the phone?” he asked

you hesistantly replied “it’s just my mother, she keeps wondering when.. well.. she keeps asking when we’re getting married” you laughed lightly

sunwoo smirked “oh really? close your eyes” he instructed

confused you did as you were told as you felt sunwoo get off you hearing the sound of the dresser opening

“okay now open” he said as you saw sunwoo with your own two eyes on his knee with a black velvet box in his hands

“sunwoo oh my god, don’t do this to me i-i’m” you stammered as you felt your hands begin to shake

he smiled and open the box where you saw a gorgeous sterling silver infinity ring with a small diamond in the middle

“[name] this isn’t an engagement ring, it’s a promise. a promise to always love you and cherish you, and to always respect you. i am going to marry you one day, when we’re both ready. i’ve never loved anyone as much as i love you” he vowed putting the ring on your finger

you then felt the tears flow grabbing his face with both your hands giving him a longing kiss falling back on the bed with him on top of you

as sunwoo began to take off his shirt that’s when you saw his necklace with the same infinity symbol as your ring

you smiled as you grabbed his necklace pulling him back down for another kiss

「 Eric Sohn 」

it was official you wanted to kill eric, he knew you were afraid of heights. yet he manage to persuade you on getting on an airplane to go to okinawa for a weekend getaway trip

you loved that he put so much thought into your weekend, making sure to pick the nicest hotel with a view by lots of restaurants and attractions

but you were beyond stressed, the only time you’ve been on an airplane is when you were little and moved to seoul from america, you barely remember the experience sleeping the entire trip

your body was shaking as you walked up the ramp finally boarding the airplane going to your seats

eric put away your luggage above the overhead bin and took the window seat hoping you would feel more comfortable being in the middle

as you took your seats your heart started to beat extremely fast and you started to breath heavily

eric took your hands in his “babe i promise it’s going to be okay flying is one of the safest ways to travel” he promised rubbing the side of your arm trying to calm you down

you nodded “no yeah your right i need to face my fears sometime” you bravely said

when the flight finally took off your nerves managed to subdued until you hit mild turbulence which freaked you out all over again

eric quickly grabbed his sleeping mask putting it over your eyes and large headphones with loud music trying to mask your senses which worked wonders as you lay your head on his shoulder

he held your hand tightly when you finally landed getting off the 2 hour flight

as you made your way to the hotel you were in awe of okinawa absorbing all the buildings and the mass of people walking by

you looked at eric “thank you eric this is amazing, i don’t think there’s anyone else i would trust to help me face my fears” you said bashfully

he leaned over and kissed your jaw “anytime babe” he murmured

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* © sunwoo-hoo 2 0 2 1 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years ago

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Of Kings and Beasts - Eight

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff,

Word Count: 3.6K

A/n: I’m alive! I know, it’s been like 4 months. I honestly didn't know how to ‘come back’ so this is it. I’ll be answering asks and messages tonight, but things are going okay. I work 54 hours a week so I’m not writing as much as I’d like to but I’m trying!!! I love you all so much, and I hope you enjoy this!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

The doctor lies unmoving on a medical cot, stitches across his throat to close the gouge that was meant to end his life.

“Do we have any idea who is behind this? Or why?” Steve asks quietly, eyes darting between his most trusted man and his husband.

“I do not know who is behind it, but I think they are aware that we know.” Steve’s brows pull together at his husband’s words, and he waits for him to continue.

James huffs out a deep breath, glancing around the small room as if checking for any listening ears.

“Doctor Banner found an incision on the base of my skull. Someone has performed an operation on me without my knowing. I’m assuming the Doctor found something out, and while on his way to find me he was ambushed.”

Steve’s still stuck on the fact that his husband has been tampered with.

“What do you mean someone performed an operation on you?” James shakes his head. “I’m not sure what they did, but I have reason to believe that it is why I have been so hostile towards... our wife.” He fears saying your name. He doesn’t want anything to trigger the beast.

“How long have you known this?” Steve demands, angry that James would keep something like this from him.

“Since the day she went out into the snow. I was not sure who I could trust. I still know not. But one thing is certain: someone means to kill our wife and destroy our marriage, and it is someone close to us.” Regret instantly fills the blond king and he excuses himself without another word, head swarming with thoughts that include nothing but pain and punishment.

His feet take him down the spiral staircase, his hands wrenching open the cell door and grabbing the prisoner by his collar.

“Who is it that sent you?! Tell me! Now!” The man is confused for a moment before a yellow-toothed grin splits his face.

“You will tell me now!” Steve pulls his fist back and slams it against the man’s face, but the prisoner only laughs manically.

“Who is it that intends on hurting my wife? On ruining my marriage?” The man shakes his head, blood dribbling down his chin.

“The only one who ruins your marriage and hurts your wife is you, your majesty. But from what I hear through the walls, your bloodline ends with you. The great Kings of the West will be nothing more than fairytales. Their whore wife, a forgotten name. And that will be your doing.” Steve’s vision clouds and he unleashes his fury upon the prisoner, beating him to a bloody pulp until his face is hardly visible.

The King stumbles back, chest heaving and fists covered in blood, while the man slumps to the floor, wheezing and gasping.

“Cut off one head... two more shall take its place,” is the last thing the man utters before collapsing in a pool of his own blood.

Steve stands there, furious and dumbfounded. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize he isn’t alone anymore until a cool hand is on his shoulder, turning him around.

“What happened?” James asks, his eyes on the dead man on the floor and then on his husband’s bloody fists.

“Your assumption is correct. Someone has orchestrated this and we are being toyed with. Where’s (Y/n)?” The mention of your name has James squeezing his eyes shut as the beast bares its fangs.

“I know not. But you haven’t time for that. Thor and Anthony should be here within the hour. You need to make yourself presentable. We will tell them of our problem and see if they can offer any assistance.” Steve doesn’t want to meet with the other Kings. No, he wants to find you and get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, of which you may or may not grant, but he’s willing to beg and plead in front of his entire kingdom if he needs to.

“Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” James ushers the blond out of the dungeon and to his chambers, his mind racing as he tries to piece the mystery together.

~*~

Your eyes trace over the trails etched in the book in your grasp, trying desperately to memorize them.

You’re so engaged in your reading that you don’t notice the man in front of you until you’re walking into him.

“Oh!” You stumble back, the book falling from your grasp as you lose your footing. The man is quick and grabs you around the waist to prevent you from falling.

“I am very sorry, Your Majesty. You must forgive me, for I was not paying attention to where I was walking.” The man has a deep, booming voice, his accent different than the ones you’re used to.

“It’s quite alright. I was hardly paying attention myself.” You look up at him and your eyebrows raise.

He’s an absolute Adonis of a man.

With beautifully kind blue eyes, a warm and inviting smile, and long locks of blond hair that are pulled back into a half-bun.

“It must be an interesting story that you were reading then?” He questions, hand dropping from around your waist as he stoops down to pick up your book.

“You could say that.” You’re nervous. You know not who this man is nor where his allegiance lies.

“This is a book of maps. Have you a journey planned?” He seems just genuinely curious but you’re defensive nonetheless.

“Might I ask who you are and why you need to know?” He raises his brows then chuckles.

“I suppose we have not been introduced, although I have heard many things about you. I am King Thor, of Asgard. And you are Queen (Y/n). Born of Orlen but wed in Acadia. The Kings eagerly awaited your arrival, I must say. And you are every bit as beautiful as they said.”

You shake your head bashfully.

“May I know where your journey will take you? It will remain a secret between the two of us. You have my word.” You ponder this for a moment, but he looks so kind and so genuine, you can’t stop yourself from telling him.

“Well if you must know, I’m leaving.” He huffs a breath of surprise.

“Leaving? But for what purpose? You are a queen.”

You laugh softly at that, the tugging up of your cheeks making your cuts burn.

“A queen, yet I am treated like a prisoner. You must forgive me for speaking so plainly in your presence, but I fear that I have lost any sense of... propriety in this place. My husbands may have spoken highly of me, but that was before they met me, I suppose. Now... I am nothing more than a thorn in their sides.”

Thor shakes his head, not believing a word coming from your mouth.

“That cannot be.” You sigh heavily and tug the collar of your gown down, showing him the dark bruises around your neck.

“From his Majesty, King James. And King Steven gave me these.” You show him the bruises on your arms next.

He’s absolutely appalled.

“And I assume they are the ones responsible for these?” One of his warm fingers traces across the marks on your cheeks and you nod.

“I do not blame you for wanting to leave. You must feel stifled.” You nod, taking his outstretched arm and allowing him to lead you down the hallway.

“It... has not been an easy transition. I have not even seen my kingdom yet. I know not what it has to offer nor if it is thriving. I have not met my people or even seen my lands. This place is supposed to be home to me, but it is no more than a prison with hot water and soft sheets.”

Thor’s quiet for a long moment and you regret every speaking. Just as you’re about to tug free from his grip and lock yourself back in your chambers, he turns to you.

“We cannot simply allow you to not know what your kingdom has to offer! I am making it my duty to show you the beauties of Acadia.” Your eyebrows raise.

“But surely you’re here on business? You mustn’t have time for something as tedious as that.” He takes your hand and brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. “A chance to get to know the Queen? Show her that her Kingdom is not all bad? That is not tedious. The Kings can wait. They have Anthony. I will take you through the Kingdom and show you all that there is to see.”

~*~

Thor is true to his word and shows you every nook and cranny in the Kingdom. From the poorest parts to the wealthiest.

“This is the village orphanage. I often come to volunteer my time, however business has kept me away for far longer than I’d like to admit.” You pull your cloak tighter around yourself at the biting chill of the wind, a frown on your face as you look at the run-down building.

“Do the kings not know the ruins of their Kingdom? Surely something can be done to fix this building. The children must be freezing.” You’re reminded of your own experience in the cold confines of the north tower in Orlen. The small chamber you were locked in whenever your adoptive mother did not want to see you.

“The Kings often busy themselves with their work. They are conquerors. They have not the time for such trivial tasks. It would be the duty of a queen to fix the Kingdom, here at least. They are my friends, and they are good at taking, however it seems they know little of giving back.” You nod at this, knowing firsthand how much they can take and not give back.

“I wish I had known that the kingdom was in such ruins. I would have made it my priority.” He looks at you for a long moment, wondering what on Earth could cause the Kings to treat you so poorly.

“If you would like, I can help you to arrange some repairs? Perhaps we can make it your project? Have you in charge of it. It could be your first official duty as Queen.” You smile but shake your head sadly, turning away from the orphanage and back towards your horses.

“I doubt the Kings would approve of something like that. I’m sure I will have their wrath to face for having kept you from your business for so long. I fear what they will do to me, if I am quite honest with you. Steven was lovely before but... he has... I know not how to explain it.” Thor comes up behind you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I will ensure that they do not bring any more harm to you, Petal. You have endured far more than should be expected of you. You have little to gain, and yet you remain here for them.” You shrug, walking with him to your horses.

“My situation were I to leave would not be very different. I have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I am alone both in the Kingdom and outside of it.” Thor hates the truth behind your words.

“Come, let’s get you back to the Palace before you catch your death.” He helps you up onto the horse then gets on his, mind full of everything you’ve told him and all that he needs to discuss with the Kings.

~*~

He walks you to your chambers, having told Wanda to draw a warm bath for you. As he reaches the wooden door, he pauses and smiles warmly at you.

“I very much enjoyed our time today, Your Majesty. I hope to spend more time with you during my stay. But unfortunately, I must go.”

As he’s turning to leave, a voice calls your name. The way you stiffen has Thor grinding his teeth together in frustration.

“Your Majesty,” you greet, bowing your head to your husband while your hand inches to your door.

“May I speak with you? Please?” You open your mouth to reply but Thor cuts you off.

“Actually, Steven, I believe you and I have matters of our own.” And just like that, The booming blond ushers your husband down the hallway. Steve’s blue eyes stay on you, his head turned to look over his shoulder as much as he can until they round the corner and render you out of sight.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and enter your bedroom, smiling tightly at Wanda as she helps you into your bath.

~*~

“You were with (Y/n) all day?” Thor shrugs, “would it matter if I was? It seems that I am the only friend she has.” Steve grinds his teeth together but huffs a breath out through his nose.

“I understand that I have been unfair, but all I want is to make things better between the two of us.”

Thor shakes his head, thick arms crossed over his broad chest as he looks between the two kings. “That can wait. What is it that you needed to discuss with me so urgently?”

Steve sighs and looks over at James as if trying to figure out where to begin.

“We believe that someone is trying to sabotage our marriage to break us apart and overthrow our rule. And it must be someone close to us. James has been... tampered with. And I was made to question the loyalties of my own wife. My anger and haste for answers have... brought forth a beast I had hoped to keep hidden from her. And I fear I have played my part in the sabotage of my marriage.” Thor thinks about how helpless you sounded, how absolutely broken down you seemed and can’t help but agree with Steve’s words.

“If someone is plotting to overthrow your rule, they must be close. Close enough to know of any decisions being made. It would be wise to deceive them.” James furrows his brows in confusion. “Make it seem as if they are winning. Send away your wife and tell no one the truth.”

Steve’s shocked at the suggestion.

“Send her away? To where? And with whom? We cannot very well abandon her when people mean to kill her!” Thor purses his lips for a moment before smiling.

“She won’t be alone.”

The other two Kings stare at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“You mean to stay with her? And protect her?”

“Your wife is a spitfire, that much I can tell. She may come across as a woman of few words, but she has a raging soul that cannot be so easily tamed. She wishes to leave you, plans to.”

James’ shoulders cave and Steve’s face crumbles.

“She told you this?” The brunet asks, voice hoarse and weak.

“Not in so many words, but the desire is there. She is unhappy. If she would agree, I would take her to Asgard to be a wife of my own, however, her heart is loyal to Acadia.” The two kings each glare at the big blond man, angry at the very thought of someone taking their wife from them.

Thor continues, unbothered by their anger.

“Which is why she should be sent away. I have a cottage at the border of Asgard and Acadia. My men will be around and you can send men of your own. I will stay with her until she is comfortable and then I will take my leave, but for her safety and her sanity, she must leave the Palace.”

The silence in the room hangs heavily over all three men for a long while before Steve nods.

“Very well. If it is truly in her best interests, then fine. But I will not shun her without giving her a proper explanation.” Thor bows his head as Steve rushes past him, heading towards your chambers.

He knocks once then slowly pushes the door open, desperate to see you and grovel at your feet.

You’re seated on your bed, a book in hand and a shocked expression on your face.

“Your Majesty,” you greet softly, bowing your head.

“No, (Y/n) none of that. I was... out of line. I will never be able to apologize enough for everything I have done to you.” You say nothing but your heart hurts at the fact that Thor clearly told him something.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Your Majesty,” you say stiffly, moving your gaze back down to the book in your lap.

He sits on the edge of your bed, his eyes on the scratches decorating your delicate face.

“We have been unkind and unfair to you, my darling. I hope that one day you will forgive us, but until then, there is something we must discuss.” You have no idea where this conversation could be going, and that thought alone scares you.

“You will be leaving tonight.”

Your face must display the confusion and fear you feel at his words because he’s quick to clarify.

“Joining Thor and staying in a cottage where our kingdoms border. There are people here, people close to myself and James that wish to do you harm.” He takes your hand gently between both of his and presses a soft kiss to your fingers.

“It pains me to do it, but I know you need it as well. You’ve been deprived here. No friends and no family. We’ve treated you terribly and not as Queen should be treated." You keep your eyes cast down towards your lap, unable to bear seeing the King so distraught in front of you.

He sniffles and places another kiss to the back of your hand.

“I hope that you will return soon, but if you must take time then I understand. When you do decide you are ready to return, we will both be waiting with open arms.” He pauses for another moment before speaking again, his voice softer than before.

“I had hoped that James would join me but he... he is not well. But he misses you dearly, of that I am certain. The days will darken with your departure.” He presses another kiss to your knuckles then slowly rises to his feet.

“No one is to know the true reason for your departure. You mustn't tell anyone, for I fear you will not be safe if you do. Can you promise me that?” He asks, his eyes full of desperation and sorrow.

“Yes, your majesty.” His heart cracks at the fact that you’re still not addressing him by his name, but he realizes it will take time for the bond to be rebuilt between the two of you.

“Wanda will pack your things then you will be met by Thor and he will take you somewhere safe.” He cups your cheek gently, sniffling and trying to fight tears.

“I am so very sorry that your own home is a place that causes you pain.” With that, he turns on his heel and exits your chambers without so much as another glance, the pain he’s feeling evident in the tightness of his shoulders and the stiffness of his walk.

It’s not five minutes later when Thor is at the door to your chambers, sliding a thick wool cloak over your shoulders and pulling the hood up to cover your face.

“Just a precaution, Your Majesty. And the wind has a bit of a bite to it. But a carriage is waiting.” You nod your understanding and follow him silently out of the palace that has been no more than a prison to you.

Steve and James watch from separate windows as you climb into the carriage, not sparing a single glance back at the palace. But they cannot find it in themselves to blame you. What you have been forced to endure is far worse than anyone should have to. Especially someone as delicate as yourself.

A dark cloud falls over the kingdom as their queen is whisked away, brought to a safe haven that their kings couldn’t provide, by a man who is not even a member of their kingdom.

~*~

The journey to Thor’s cottage is a fairly quiet one, far too many thoughts racing in your mind and feelings in your heart.

“You are unhappy to be leaving the Palace?” Thor asks, confusion evident in his voice. You sigh heavily and shake your head, turning to look at him.

“It is a relief to be able to speak freely, however, I cannot help the guilt that I feel. It is my duty to do what the require of me, regardless of whether or not I enjoy it.” Thor shakes his head, a frown on his handsome face.

“No human should ever have to endure that. Regardless of their duties. You will not be shunned by the kings and even if you were, I’m sure Orlen would accept you back with open arms.”

You chuckle once, the sound dull and lacking humour.

“Orlen could not care any less about me if they tried. I’m not a princess to them. Merely the bastard of a King. One who was convenient to use in a trade agreement. My father would have me beheaded if he knew I was running from the kings.”

Thor is rendered speechless by this new information, his heart heavy for you, the delicate princess who deserves a far better fate than the one gifted to her.

#king!bucky #king!steve x reader #king!bucky/reader #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve/reader #royal!au #bucky x reader royal au #stucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader royal au #steve rogers dark au #bucky x reader dark au #Dark Series #Steve x reader dark au #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers/reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader

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blueprintcraft · 2 years ago

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I can’t remember the last time I struggled with burnout this bad. Work is absorbing my time and energy in a way that feels more like theft every day. Even after I close my laptop, the toll it takes lasts for hours, even days. I resent its theft of my lunch breaks on these beautiful days, time I would normally spend reading. Due to unstaffed positions, I’m back to copywriting all day, every day. So when I turn to the draft of my novel, my passion project, that well is empty. Beyond empty. I’m renting from the next day’s ration just to power through. I’m anxious and restless and can’t focus. Can’t think.

But I’m a person who has to make things. And beautiful hanks and cakes and skeins of yarn have been sitting untouched in moving boxes or bags for over a year.

There is something quietly grounding about the repetition of working with yarn that’s stilling my anxiety and stress in ways I hadn’t noticed until now. I’m lousy at meditation (I get bored), I’m lousy at yoga (I get bored), I’m lousy at taking walks (I get bored). I hate when people tell me to do these to manage stress or refill the well.

But the last week or so, I’ve been sitting up in my room at night with a documentary on tv, my story notebook by my knee and my new draft outline pulled up on my laptop. Maybe a reference book by my elbow if I wanna subject myself to reading about how I’ve been using too many beats in my dialogue or my need to kill my adverbs.

And I crochet.

Stitch by stitch and color changes and some frogging. My mind wanders a bit and I get an idea and then maybe another. Or maybe none come but it’s ok because the wrap/scarf is getting longer and I’m still making something and it’s lovely. My tired, burnt, resentful brain can wander where it wants. It doesn’t get bored.

It’s been a while since I’ve even looked at this blog. Phases of hobbies make me feel oddly guilty sometimes. I can’t even describe it. I feel weird posting this after what, three years? But it really belongs here because this is my crafty place, my warm and cozy nook where I imagine making 10000 moss stitch scarves I hoard forever.

#creativity #burn out #fiber arts #alpaca yarn #crafting #crochet #creative guilt #yarn

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stuckybarton · 3 years ago

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Sucker For Pain i

SUMMARY: You were new to the team, but what everyone didn't know was you weren't so new to the God of Mischief. CHARACTERS: Loki Laufeyson x Ex!Reader [Ex to Lovers again?] WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Slight Angst and horrible self-image. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 2,956 CHAPTERS: [1/3] A/N; Life happened and yeah, didn’t have much time to write. Not my best work for this mini-series, but I’m fighting through for this. Hope you guys enjoy~

PART TWO | PART THREE

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"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself the first moment you were escorted into the compound by Director Nick Fury. Multiple sets of faces both new and old had come to greet you. For a moment you wouldn't even believe that this is was the new life you would find yourself to be a part of from now on.

Years in the job for SHIELD before disappearing off the grid to get as much information about HYDRA, everyone had thought you had betrayed them and you had accepted that they would think so lowly of you after all the near-deaths you had to endure on the job. Even with the mission becoming more of a death wish, you had accepted the role Nick had given you all those years ago and now you were rewarded, immensely. A spot on the Avengers as part of the Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

The familiar face of Nat was the first to greet you with a hug. A fiercely tight one, it had been so long since you've seen a friend. Then your eyes fell towards the rest of the team; Bucky Barnes, who you had a few close encounters with during your time with HYDRA. You had witness everything they had done to him and stood on trail to clean his name. Steve Rogers, who, with Sharon Carter, had assisted in guarding Steve while SHIELD was still under HYDRA's control. But among the familiar faces, one stood out the most.

Loki Laufeyson.

To many, the man was a snake, a God that had once brought death and destruction in New York. But to you, he was different, this was the man that you had spent your lonely nights with while under the guise of a traitor. It had once just been a physically thing between the two of you, neither wanting to know about each other's lives. You knew he was a God, a man that had wronged the world, but he had never known about you, the woman that had painted yourself as a traitor for the better of the world. The one that had been called every name on the book for the sake of making sure you did your part right.

Then it got serious between the two of you. Admission of love was told between both of your lips. But it was dangerous for you two to be together especially when you were already told by Fury that you can come back to the surface. You didn't know what side he was on, and you did not have the heart to make him choose if the time would come.

So you two parted. A month ago. The pain still throbbing you like an unattended bullet hole right through your heart. It was still so painful to look at him and not remember him crumbling on his knees begging you to stay. The first sob that escaped his lips and forever haunted your dreams. A never-ending loop in the back of your head as your demons screamed at you for breaking an already broken man.

"I for one am happy you're finally here. Another woman to add to an already Man's Man world in the compound." Nat teased glancing towards the other individuals that had come to know the new face. "With introductions out of the way, you've got a lot of explaining to do for the past few years."

You could only smile at your friend. You did have so much to explain to her, things had been murky between you and Clint, but after everything, Nat had refused to believe you would betray them, betray her, and it was finally a relief to be able to return back home, seeing the people that mean the most to you.

"Tell me about it." You muttered allowing Nat to quickly pull your away from the crowd, but it missed your eyes how he was still looking. Ice blue eyes a contract to the burning gaze he had towards you.

Forget about him. Forget about him. You were here for a new opportunity. No him. Never him.

For the next few weeks, everyone had grown to accept you in your new role as part of the Avengers. You kept up with Steve, Bucky, and Sam during their runs. Sam more than happy to finally have someone that had the same pace as him, but only for you to laugh and out run him just to get a reaction out of the high flier. Tony and Bruce had also found a kinship in you, having provided them enough information about HYDRA's experiments and location made most of their missions easier. Then there was Nat and Clint, your confidant in this new life. Every single moment that was not dedicated to a mission was spent with them; may it be movie night or a simple get together outside the compound, often times bringing Wanda and Vision along just to mess with you and call you a 5th wheel of the group.

But among number of members on the team, everyone had noticed you constantly avoided one Thor Odinson and one Loki Laufeyson. The only real time you would even dare talk to either of the brothers would be during training--other than that, you tried your best to avoid them, Loki most especially. Every single moment that would force the two of you to be in the same room, Loki had a glare while you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Everyone noticed, everyone didn't seem to worry too much. It comes with having a former-villain part of the team. They thought you would eventually get used to the God's presence just as much as they did.

"You ever gonna tell me what's going on between you and Loki?" Nat inquired avoiding your punch.

What you hated the most about sparring with Nat was her capability of multitasking. Talking and snooping about someone else's business while also kicking their ass in the process--this was the predicament you were in right in this very moment.

"Nothing is going on." You muttered landing back first on the mat after being thrown like a rag doll by Nat. Eyes looking at the ceiling, you wondered if it was a good idea to actually come clean to her about her past with the God of Mischief. "I know what he's done to New York and I think you can't blame me for taking precaution when it comes to him."

Nat now comes hovering on top of you, the narrowed eyes and gentle smirk was all you needed to know--she knew it was bullshit. But when she had stopped pushing you for more information, it was enough for you to just change the subject.

"They found Dominic?" You inquired. One of the first big missions that everyone was focusing on was one of the leading Scientist for HYDRA. With the exposure of HYDRA to the world, some of them had moved away and found themselves in much shadier company, much to everyone's radar now spiking.

Dominic Wagner was, in part, partially responsible for the Winter Soldier program in the modern era. One of the pioneers in moving the project into a much younger sets of test subjects. You lost contact with the man as soon as your got back into the surface, but it had also meant a target was on your back when they found out you were a double agent.

"He's in Russia. Wasting away all the funding for the program with parties" Nat points out. "Still a better way to spend the money that abducting kids everywhere."

You nodded, memories of files upon files for the prospects still haunted you to this day.

"When are you taking him out?" You inquired. In your time with the SHIELD, the red in both of your ledger had made you two a hot commodity if the situation present itself as shoot to kill. Neither of you would hesitate. You knew you would now, after everything, but if it means one less bad people in this earth, you would swallow your new morals.

"Fury wants him alive." She pointed out finally standing back up to her own two feet, leaving you on your back, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. "I know as much as you do, we want him dead for everything he has done, but we need him alive so we can get the others."

You nodded, this was one of the few things you had to get used to as part of the team. Death was best solution in SHIELD--at least in your team, not here. As long as you were part of Steve's team, you would need to choose whether or not killing would be the best option. Hope that you weren't so blessed to be given in your time under.

"I get a first shot when we don''t have any use of him anymore." You muttered finally standing back up with Nat's help. Steps faltering at the sight of the God of Mischief, training with the likes of Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes. A weird mix up, but wasn't hard to understand why.

"Why don't you shoot your shots with him for now." Nat teased, finally making you break from staring at the plain black shirt and green sweatshort-clad Loki Laufeyson. "If we try to ignore the death count during his attack, he is sort-of your type in men." Nat wiggled her brows. quick to avoid you as you attempted to swat her in the ass, eyes now turned away from God and his training partners.

"By type, you mean psychotic with possible Daddy-issue? Then you might just be right." You snort.

"I'm offended you think of me as such, Darling"

Jerking your head to the owner of the voice, how the hell did he sneak up behind you without you noticing. You glanced at Nat in panic and like the traitor that she was, made a terrible excuse of being needed in Bruce's lab. Now being left in the man's presence, you could all but remember the last time you had been this close to the man.

Heartbreaks.

Words that you didn't mean.

Words that he didn't mean.

It still hurt you, and you were sure it hurts him just as much, if not more now, finally realizing why there had been a need for a breakup between the two of them all those weeks ago.

"Here I thought I would have someone to trust. You mortals continue to disappoint me." He hissed.

Your eyes glanced at the other training trio, noticing all three of them were in their own little world to even noticed what was going on between the two of them.

"Tell me, Darling..." He whispered, head leaning towards the shell of your ears. The familiar shiver run through your skin as just his voice. Memories of the very things his silver tongue had whispered had you flustered and breathless, more than from your earlier training with Nat. "Was it satisfying to play with a God?"

Before you could even mutter a word, his constantly gentle hand now covered your jaw, emitting a squeak from your lips and stopping you from saying a word. He was never this forceful, nor did he do anything that would hurt you. Was this the true nature of the man you had finally thought you have been the best part of you. To have loved a man that everyone was right to stay away from?

"Or is it shame finally coming to you, to be ever involved with someone like me?"

You tried to pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong--stronger than you could ever think of being.

"Or is this you taking your opportunity to move from one bed to another? Who will it be this time, Y/N? My oaf of a brother or will it be Soldier out of time? Who will you whore this time?"

And you finally snapped. With a resounding slap, all three individuals had heard your attack on the man and Loki finally releasing his hold on your jaws. A chuckle escaped his lips and only brought the first line of tears to fall from your eyes. You never wanted to believe him to be a monster, but here he was, proving her wrong.

"I am in doubt of the foundation of our relationship for the past years, Y/N. I am the God of Mischief and Lies and the only mortal I had ever truly opened to had done this to me. Lied to me for such a long time, lied about the entirety of our relationship."

"You will never understand."

"Oh no," he chuckled darkly, eyes glaring straight into your own. "I understand well enough to know, you would never love someone like me and I deserve every lie and heartache I am enduring because of everything I have ever done in my past."

Before you could defend yourself and the genuinity of your relationship with the God, he had made his excuse. Leaving you to ponder of the true damage of your breakup with Loki, and the aftermath it had now held for the both of you. He was right, you had lied, and either way, their relationship will fall apart because of those lies.

He was the God of Mischief and Lies.

Yet, he did not expect for this biggest lie to break him the most. The separation had been painful, he had always hoped for a better life with you. Then a month passed since your breakup, he sees you, it hits him like a sharp knife to the chest all over again. He experience the pain of a stab to the chest, but it would never compare to the pain of seeing you in this very compound with the truth of your life that you refused to ever open to him.

This was karma coming to haunt him it seems.

It had been well over a week now since the first time he had actually confronted you about everything. It wasn't how he planned for things to go through. He never wanted to hurt you, but he was a monster after all. A monster that his own father had told his people to avoid. A bedtime story to scare mischievous kids into submission.

He had always thought after everything he had to endure, had to do, had to escape, he could finally live a peaceful life. A life to finally start anew. A life where he could finally change for the best. A mortal woman had made him make those ideas come into reality, you had always became the reason why he would never have his redemption in life.

A bitter idea with no possible resolution.

How could he have ever believed that anyone would ever love someone like him? After everything he had ever done, he was never allowed to be loved. You had proved that somehow.

'Mr. Laufeyson, you are needed for a meeting with the team'

Breaking from his little bubble. He sighed finally returning back to reality, into the little comforts the library could give him. The week had been gruelling for him, three individual witnessed the altercation between himself and you. It had spread like wildfire, but thanking the Gods that no one was able to listen to the conversation.

He had to endure most of the questioning. In everyone's eyes, he was, after all, still under everyone's constant scrutiny. A man that no one could trust. But he refused to say a single word knowing you did the same thing. It was better to keep your mouth shut instead of letting people know exactly what had happened. Somehow that brought a smile on his face. He might not share a future with you, but might as well make the most out of making your life a living hell, as much you did it to him.

Shutting the book he was barely even reading, he placed the book back into the shelf before walking his way towards the meeting room.

He could easily teleport, but he preferred to enjoy his moments of peace without his oaf of a brother breathing down his neck or Stark constantly testing his patience with his quips. It also gave him a moment to school his features, he knew well enough about the mission to know you would also be in attendance. Be more invested in this mission than anyone else.

It was a few things he was relearning about you now that you were out in the open as everyone claims you to be. You were a free spirited being that could meld with anyone you were in the area with. He had watched you throw relentless jabs at Tony during your first few days that had the man surprisingly raise a white flag. But the most dangerous thing he had to learn was the familial relationship you had with one Natasha Romanoff and Clint Burton, two people that he kept his distance with the most.

"Professor Snape has finally graced us with his presence."

Loki has learned since joining the team to choose his battle when it comes to Tony. This was one of those moment. Finding a vacant chair besides his brother, he had taken his seat. A big mistake on his part as he finds from across the table, you sat. In between a glaring Romanoff and Barton.

Wearing a smirk, just to get on the two super spies' nerve, he turned his attention right back into the meeting. He begins formulating a few little schemes to not only get on the two's nerved, but most especially yours.

#loki laufeyson oneshot #loki laufeyson one shot #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson imagines #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki one shot #loki oneshot #loki imagines #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x you #loki angst #loki fluff #sucker for pain

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XXIII

Part I - - - - - - - - - Part XX - - - - Part XXI - - - - Part XXII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

The office was quiet but for the occasional shuffling of flimsi and tapping of datapads.

Bail Organa and Mon Mothma pointedly did not exchange a glance behind Padme’s back.

Senator Mothma set down her pad and broke the silence. “Padme...are you alright?” she asked softly.

“I’m fine Mon, let’s just go over the bill,” Padme responded stiffly.

Mothma hesitated. “That’s not the only reason I asked you here, Padme.”

Padme stood, chair scraping gratingly. “I see; I’ve already had the Chancellor pry me today in an attempt to exploit my ‘connections’ to the Jedi—as though they’re droids and not flesh-and-blood people who any average person could strike a friendship with—but I had thought better of you two; I suppose my faith was—”

“That’s not what I meant—” Mon pleaded.

“We’re concerned about you,” Bail insisted gently. “You don’t have to tell us anything about the Jedi that you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

Padme paused, then reluctantly sat back down.

“My apologies,” she muttured. “It’s been...a long day. I’ve been asked by the Chancellor for help in breaking some news that...I’d rather not.”

The senators waited patiently for Padme to collect her thoughts. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “General Kenobi has suffered from...force...I really don’t think there’s a way of saying this that doesn’t sound bad.”

“I had heard rumors that he was missing at meetings the last few days...has something serious happened?” Bail asked, concerned.

Padme shuddered. “This office is...”

“It’s clean,” Mothma confirmed quietly. “I have it checked independently anytime I’m gone for more then 15 minutes, with random deep-scans.”

“Would you mind...”

Mon nodded and the three waited in silence until the Chandurllian senator’s pad trilled the all-clear.

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself earlier this week,” Padme confessed lowly. Mon straightened up in a sudden locking of knees and elbows, face drawn into tight lines. Bail’s hands flew to his mouth, tears forming.

“Knight Skywalker got to him in time, and he was in a coma until this morning when he apparently ‘ranted about ending the one’s responsible for the war’ and then vanished, along with Anakin.”

Mon grew very pale and Bail moved both hands from his mouth to his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “Just...fuck.”

Padme nodded in agreement and Mon inhaled deeply.

Bail rubbed way tears and straightened up resolutely. “How can we help?” he asked Padme. “How does the Chancellor want to handle releasing the news?”

She smiled weakly. “He’s leaving the exact wording up to me, but wants to make the announcement during the next full Senate gathering.”

“What!” Mon half-shouted, shocked. “There’ll be a riot! Surely a bulletin—even a press conference would be better for encouraging a moderate reaction—people will be shouting before he’s through the first sentence!”

“I know,” Padme agreed with a grimace. “But he wants ‘transparency.’“

“He wants panic,” Bail fumed.

“I’m trying to decide if it would better or worse to include the part about suicide,” Padme said bitterly. “Mental health breakdown and disappearance of the Republic’s highest General doesn’t leave much room for confidence or privacy.”

Mon clutched Padme’s hand in support. “I’ll have a PR team on standby. We can prepare resources for anyone who has questions, avoid conspiracy theories from spinning out. I already had a project on the backburner to put together own set of holoclips of the Jedi working towards peace—a counter to the ‘warmongering’ narrative, so to speak. It should be easy enough to adapt.”

“The Chancellor’s going to turn this into another military spending bill,” Bail predicted grimly. “We’ll make sure there’s a proviso in there to provide actual support for the Jedi in the field; I’ll make sure to get a legal team on viper in the grass duty as soon as the responses start coming out.”

“Thank you,” Padme said, gripping Mon’s hand over-tightly in return. She turned to the Alderannian senator. “I’m sorry Bail, I know you two are close.”

Bail exhaled slowly. “This war...I’ve seen Obi-Wan survive so much, and everytime he pulls off the impossible...”

“He’s rewarded with another burden on his shoulders,” Padme finished sympathetically. “Yes, I’ve been watching the same thing happen to Anakin. It’s—if the separatist movement hadn’t resolved into such a democratic and humanitarian nightmare—”

“You should go home and get some rest, Padme,” Mon urged. “It’s late, and the we’re all going to need to be sharp tomorrow. Who knows, maybe some new information will materialize before the afternoon.”

“Why Mon, that’s almost optimistic of you,” Bail remarked dryly.

Mon flashed him a wry grin, looking at Padme out of the corner of her eye. “Well. She did say Anakin with AWOL—”

“Oh do be quiet,” Padme huffed.

Despite the ever growing desire for sleep, it was another long hour before the Senator from Naboo departed. The pair were just turning to their seats after escorting Padme out when Bail let out a startled yelp; Mon instinctively kicked at the sudden small green blur.

Fortunately, when you’re green and the height of most humanoid’s knees, you become quite experienced at avoiding such reflexive

“Master Yoda! What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” Senator Mothma staggered backwards, reverting to defensiveness to cover up her embarrassment at attempting to punt the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

“Has his ways, a Jedi does,” Yoda replied mysteriously. Mon Mothma nodded seriously as Bail restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He had spent far too much time around Obi-Wan for deliberate Jedi vagueness to hold much weight.

“Can I—May I offer you a seat?” Mon asked, quickly recovering her diplomatic grace. “I’m afraid that you’ve just missed Senator Amidala, but I’m sure she would be eager to return; I understand she’s...concerned for Master Kenobi.”

The wizened Master shook his head, ears flopping as he hopped onto Padme’s recently vacated chair, standing on the cusioned seat as the two senators’ settled down. The sight should, perhaps, have been comical. But the weight of his gaze...Bail held his breath. Perhaps Jedi mystique did still have some affect on him.

“Come to speak with the two of you, I did. Missed Mistress Amidala, I have, I know. Deliberate, this was.”

Mon and Bail frowned, exchanging a slow look of pointed disapproval. Bail spoke hesitantly but with touch of reproach. “I’m certain she would prefer to be here, regardless of the news—Padme has suffered for her public defense of the Jedi, I should hope that that friendship is returned, especially in hard times”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “A great Jedi, she would have made, in another life. Vibrant, she is in the Force. Loud to a Jedi, regardless of sensitivity. But needed now, quiet is.”

Yoda’s gaze pierced Bail and he warmed inexplicably. “Quiet the two of you are. Brilliant, wide but in the Force...” Yoda broke the gaze, growing contemplative.

“Unique in the force, each soul is. That can be read, rare is the mind. More difficult to discern, currents, intentions, manner, it is with some, it is with you. And now, Quiet we need.”

The two settled back, uneasily flattered. “Master Yoda—it’s an honor of course, to be considered an individual worthy of confidence, but why exactly do you have need of quiet minds? Of us?” Senator Mothma asked finally.

The diminutive Master sagged. “By actions you would do, trust you have earned. But always in motion, the future is. A heavy burden, to carry, I must ask you. Without cause, I would not ask. But once tell you this I do—”

To the politicians shock Master Yoda’s simmed to glisten with unshed tears. “—Guarantee your safety I cannot.”

The air hung warm and heavy for a timeless moment and a chill ran up both their spines. But neither were individuals particularly given to indesicion in the face of looming danger.

“How can we help?” Mon asked, the words echoing over far more than an hour.

“We know something is wrong with Obi-Wan,” Bail added softly. “Whatever we can do to right it—Obi-Wan is a friend, the Jedi are our allies, and the Republic is our duty.”

Mon nodded firmly.

Yoda stared at them each in turn, eyes searching and ancient.

“Working with the Separatists, the Chancellor is,” he said bluntly. “Evidence of this, we have, but not proof. Controlling, the Separatists, the Chancellor is. Evidence of this we have also, but not proof. The truth it is.”

“Evidence?” Bail parroted hoarsely, mentally assembling his own grim circumstantial coronation even as his understanding of the conversation’s direction fell apart.

The Jedi Master drew two small glittering objects from his pocket—a datachip and a microslide.

“In the brain of a trooper, this we found.” he said gravely. “In the brain of all clones, this lies. Orders, it contains. Evil, is it. Free will, it can control. Decode it we have. To the Chancellor, tied these orders are.”

“Force,” Mon murmured in horror, responding automatically. “He already controls the public, and the courts—”

“And over half the senate,” Bail added bitterly.

“A Sith, he is,” Yoda continued with a sigh. “A Sith he has always been. A return to an Empire, he aims.”

There was a long heady pause as the two grappled with the return of the ancient boogeyman of the Republic and the repeated derailing of their night’s direction.

“Fuck,” Senator Mothma said delicately, thinking wistfully of two hours ago when she had planned on confronting Padme yet again on her relationship with a young Jedi.

“Said the same, did we.”

The Alderannian Senator rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms with consecutive massive shocks from the already unexpected conversation. “Is Obi-Wan alright?” he asked eventually.

The small Elder hummed thoughtfully in reply. Bail tensed.

“No and yes. Suffer much, he has. Broken he is, but not shattered. A plan he has. His idea to include you, it is. The bravest man in the galaxy, he called you.” Yoda said, offering Senator Organa a sad smile.

Bail leaned back, stunned. “Me? But—why me?” he asked bewildered.

“Know not, I do,” the Jedi said with a shrug. “Seen the future, he has. A future where saved his life, you did. Saved my life. Saved something too precious to name, you did. Matters little, it does. A future that must not come to pass, it is, even as learn from it. we do.”

“...I think you’re going to have to explain that somewhat,” Mon replied sternly as Bail’s head spun.

Yoda nodded and the three settled in for a sleepless night of planning treason.

Part XXIV

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au

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guardianofthepeanutwrites · 3 years ago

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Skirts and Dresses Part 2

Part 2 is here. I hope you will like it! Part 1, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5 To my Powerpuff Girls ! I love you all <3 Many Thanks to Gypsywoman13 for beta-readig!

@mayucerise @starkeraddictbaby

Iron Dad Tony

Since the Widow had learned his secret and been so understanding, Peter became a bit less careful. While he used to only wear his old skirt when he was alone in the compound, now he would wear his new clothes when only one or two people were present or if Natasha decided they needed special training nights, which were girls nights where they would train and then watch action movies while making fun of the bad scripts and stunts. They would also paint each other's nails and do each other's hair. It was awesome.

As promised, Natasha burned his old skirt to ashes, but with his consent. Three days later, she gifted Peter a frame with a small piece of the skirt inside and it made Peter’s heart swell with love.

He could now say that his old skirt had been awful; it had too many colors and some nasty stains, but it still had been his first, so he had put the small memorabilia on his shelf.

Today, Peter, Mr. Stark, and Dr. Banner were the only ones present at the compound, so Peter put on a nice skirt that was full of colors, and that kind of looked like silk. It was one of Peter’s new favorites because it would swirl and flare when he walked.

After dancing around for a bit, and watching the effect in the mirror of his bedroom at the compound, Peter decided it was time to work on his assignment for next week.

Peter was fully engrossed in his work when his phone buzzed loudly.

>> Kid, I know you’re busy with your assignment, but I have an emergency here. Could you come by? - TS

Without even thinking about it, Peter rapidly answered

<< Sure Mr. Stark. Omw

With that sent Peter left his bedroom, not remembering in his rush that he was still wearing his new skirt.

When Peter entered the workshop of Mr. Stark, the billionaire briefly took his eyes away from the armor he was working on.

“Kid, you may want to change before coming closer. Motor oil is a bitch to take out of silk.” The comment was said offhandedly, as if Mr. Stark wasn’t talking to his mentee wearing a fucking skirt.

Peter felt his cheeks redden, realizing he had left his room in such a hurry that he hadn’t thought to change. He was startled when Mr. Stark started to talk again.

“Pete, it’s kind of an emergency here. Can you change and move on, please?” The urgency in his mentor’s voice got Peter to move, but not to change. “Pete, you’re going to stain the skirt, come on.” But Peter didn’t listen.

“What do you need me for, Mr. Stark?”

The older man sighed but started to explain.

For three hours the two men worked seamlessly like they always do. When the part of the armor they were working on was done, Mr. Stark silently led Peter to the sofa in the lab. He made Peter spin once, to look over the skirt before he let Peter sit on the couch next to him.

“So, Petey Pie. When did you start to wear skirts, and why did you never tell me?” Mr. Stark sounded calm and not disgusted; Peter did not really know what to think about it. “And this isn’t silk. What for the love of Tesla is that thing?”

Peter sighed. Were they all going to criticize the type of skirts he was wearing and not the fact he was wearing them?

“I-I started to wear one, uh, 4 years ago?” Peter felt his cheeks redden again and bowed his head to look at his hands, avoiding Mr. Stark’s gaze. “I found it--well... it was truly horrid, Natasha burned i-” Before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Stark cut him off with a frown.

“Wait, hold on, Underoos. Natasha knew before me?” The billionaire puts a hand on his chest; always one for dramatics. “Why? Wait, no, she’s a superspy. Did she guess?”

“She walked in on me,” Peter admitted. He felt rough fingers against his chin to lift his head up and force his eyes to meet his mentor.

“You know, when I was your age - a little younger maybe - I had a... well, Dad and--Dad called it a phase.” Peter knew his mentor had meant Dad and Obadiah Stane. It made Peter want to punch the guy. “For an entire month, I wore nothing but very short skirts.” Peter’s breath hitched at the confession, making Mr. Stark smirk. “To be honest, I only wore them to make my dad angry, but I still liked it, and those skirts made my ass look like sin. Well, everything makes my ass look like sin, but the skirts...they were really nice.”

“But, then, why did you stop? And why does no one know about that?” Peter asked with a small voice, still looking at his mentor even if the man had let go of his chin sometime before.

“I--They made me. If I am being honest, they paid a lot of people a lot of money to bury every piece of evidence from that month.” Mr. Stark frowned suddenly. “FRI, baby girl?”

“Yes, boss?” The AI answered.

“Do we still have pictures of that time?” There was a short silence before the AI starts to talk again.

“Yes boss, we do,” the mechanical voice sounded, amused.

“We should leak those one day.” Peter choked on nothing, making the older man wink at him. “Oh, and before I forget, FRI, call Thomas and tell him to bring skirts and dresses for my protegé.” FRIDAY didn’t answer, but Peter supposed she already was calling whoever Thomas was.

Mr. Stark stood, making a gesture at Peter to stay put, and went to a little room where he kept a small desk to do things that didn’t warrant going to his main office. He came back with a kraft envelope and sat back while he simply gave the envelope to Peter.

“I was supposed to give this to you on your Birthday, but I think there will be no better occasion than this one.” Peter watched the envelope dumbly, asking himself what was inside. “Open it up, kid.”

However, before Peter could move, FRIDAY started to talk again.

“Sir, Mr. Watson refuses to ‘clothe a man with a dress’.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Fire him.” Peter opened his mouth to argue that there was no need to fire someone over him, but Mr. Stark continued. “Wait, was he insulting?”

“Yes, sir.” If she hadn’t been only code, Peter would have said FRIDAY was angry, but Peter was probably projecting.

“Ok, sue him and then fire him or the other way around. Let Legal take care of that. Shit, Pepper is going to kill me,” Mr. Stark muttered, standing up to start to pace.

“Mrs. Potts has not been using Mr. Watson’s services for some years, boss. Not after they had an argument about the place of women.” Peter saw his mentor getting angry at hearing that. “She has another tailor. His name is Richard Bernard and he comes highly recommended by Mrs. Potts. Should I call him?”

Mr. Stark huffed. “Yes, you do that. And FRIDAY? Next time someone treats my wife badly, tell me. While she can take care of herself, I refuse to continue to employ assholes. Tell her that.” Peter smiled softly at the ardor in his mentor’s demeanor. Mr. Stark breathed deeply and turned to Peter. “Now, kid, open the thing.” Mr. Stark made a wide gesture to the kraft envelope still on Peter’s lap.

Peter carefully pulled the tab and opened the envelope, taking the papers before looking up at Mr. Stark to make sure he could read them. Mr.Stark nodded, encouragingly, so Peter started to read and was startled at the content on the first paper. Peter frantically began to go through all of the papers, but they all said the same thing: Adoption.

When Peter looked up from the papers on his knees, it was to see Mr. Stark kneeling in front of him, watching Peter with a smile, and taking one of Peter’s hands inside his.

“We have known each other for years, and I would never hope for a better son than you, and for someone better to inherit Stark Industries when my time comes, Peter Parker.” Peter wanted to interrupt; wanted to tell the man that while Peter saw him as a dad too...that Peter would love nothing more on this earth than to be his son, but he was not worth it. He was only Peter, after all.

But Tony Stark knew him too well and just continued to talk, gently squeezing Peter’s hand. “You are smart, kind, and brave. I once told you that I wanted you to be better, and the truth is, you always were better. No, Peter, I may have changed the last decade or so, but at your age, I was nowhere as good as you. I would never have been a hero if I had received your powers. I am so proud of the man you have become, and I want to officially call you a son.”

“But--I know nothing about business,” Peter said lamely. It made Tony smile.

“Well, it’s not knowledge I was born with, you know. There are some classes you can take, and Pepper and I are ready to teach you everything we know. We would have done this sooner, but we wanted to give you until your 21st Birthday to be a normal kid.” Tony gently stroked Peter’s hand. “And before you ask, no, I do not care that you wear skirts or that you are bisexual. Yes, I know about that, I’ve seen how you watch the Soldier.” Peter wanted to deny it, but he really couldn’t because he currently had a very big and hopeless crush on one James Buchanan Barnes. “There is nothing--except going to work for Hammer Tech, and maybe SHIELD--that will change the way I see you. You are my kid, Peter Parker. Will you agree to be my son?”

And what could Peter say? He loved the man like a father and looked up to him. He even loved the horrible dad jokes Mr. Stark started to tell every now and then.

“It-it would be my honor, d-dad.” And Peter couldn’t take it anymore as he jumped into his mentor’s...no, his father’s arms.

And if both of them cried while hugging the other for a long time, it was no one’s business.

Richard Bernard made Peter the most awesome clothes, but Peter had to admit that while he loved them, (silk was such a pleasure on his sensitive skin) the ones he bought with Natasha were still his favorites.

Natasha looked at him like he was a moron, but did not comment. Peter was emotional, so sue him.

Pepper gifted Peter with some make-up, and with Natasha’s help, they taught him how to use it.

Now that Peter had more freedom to put on his dresses, skirts, lace, and silk, he discovered that he did not crave it as much as before. He even started to have fun with his other clothes, especially since Tony gifted him a great collection of graphic tees with all the best science puns.

It’s not as if he didn’t want to be pretty anymore, Peter did, but it’s not a desperate need anymore. Some days he wanted to look cute, and others, he wanted jeans and t-shirts.

Peter was very lucky.

#mcu fanfiction #5+1 things #Still 6+1 #Winterspider endgame #winterspider #tony stark #peter parker #irondad and spiderson #skirts and dresses

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lihikainanea · 3 years ago

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i’m shy and get embarrassed easily, so i have NEVER SAID WHAT IVE WANTED but i can’t hold back anymore, I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT. actually, it’s not a want, it’s a need.

i need a really sub tiger (whimpering, spaced out look, needy, sucking on his fingers, etc) and daddy bill. sweet nani. TIGER call him daddy. i need big protector and provider vibes from bill.

also, i’ve read every single one of your posts ATLEAST 15 times. this page right here, feels like a safe space.

much love

ohhhhhhhh thank you bb! I love messages like this <3 I'm glad you submitted an ask, that's a big step--I'm proud of you, boo. This space is open and safe for everyone, it's all I've ever wanted to create, so to hear you say it--to know that you felt comfortable submitting an ask--bubs, that makes me so happy <3

I'm feelin soff and subby tiger these days. Not only because of this deadly heatwave that has been sweeping the entire fucking continent, not only because work has been hell on earth, not only because I'm finally on vacation next week after not taking time off for a year and I feel like I'm crawling towards the finish line, bruised and battered, on all fours pleading for mercy.

Oh wait, that's exactly why I'm feeling soff and subby tiger these days, so small and where she can just disappear into her bubble of safety and just know that she'll be taken care of.

If you’ll allow me to self-project for awhile, as I’m wont to do rather frequently--maybe tiger has had to be Boss Bitch for awhile. She’s not having a hard time at work--no no, quite the opposite actually. She’s killing it. Stepping up when she has to, working long hours. Maybe her boss quit all of a sudden (hello, self-projection again!) and tiger is just stepping in and getting shit done. And ike a Queen, that ‘tude is bleeding into other aspects of life. Bill has a wonky shelf that needs fixing and while he’s usually quick to fix those things, it’s lagging and tiger just thinks--fuck it, and fuck you too. Bill comes home and she’s power drilling the thing back in place. Changing the light bulbs. Replacing the battery in her smoke alarm. Doing all the groceries. Cooking. Working late into the night. Picking up his dry cleaning. Her friend is going through a bad break up--tiger is there, packing her shit up with her, finding her a new apartment.

Tiger can sometimes be a bit of a procrastinator--which Bill likes, because then he gets to step in and do things for her and he loves the smile she gives him when he does that--but lately? Bill can’t get there fast enough. Tiger is handling it all, knocking it out of the park, and making it look easy.

The problem is she also kind of works herself into a tizzy--because tiger doesn’t like having too much control. She can absolutely do everything herself, but part of what she enjoys so much in her dynamic with Bill is that she doesn’t have to. She doesn’t have to be in control, or have all the power. She can give that to him, and she can just float in that place free from all burdens and responsibility and know that she’ll be taken care of. There’s an immense power in relinquishing control. And like everything, tiger swings violently from one extreme to the other--she has all of the control, she’s handling shit, she’s handling shit like a boss--until she gets real small, because she doesn’t WANT to handle this much, she doesn’t want to be the boss bitch anymore, she needs a balance where she can be ballsy and courageous in her professional life but that balance comes from being able to be subby with Bill, being able to be put on her knees and be his good girl.

Yin and yang.

And Bill senses it. He probably knows by the crazy twitch in her eye, her subtle irritability, the way a problem no sooner arises that tiger is throwing some power tool, some 7-step coaching programme, some advice from years of therapy--just something at it. Bill barely has time to mention that something in the house needs fixing, let alone fix it himself--because tiger is all over it and then some.

Bill knows the pendulum is swinging just a leeeeeeeetle too far one way.

And maybe the next day when tiger gets in from work--she has a list of shit she needs to get done tonight, and she’s still tapping away more on her phone: bake brownies for a work potluck, fix the chain on the toilet, scrub the bath tub, build the IKEA shoe cabinet she bought, give Bill head because it’s been awhile, put the final tweaks on a presentation. And her nose is in her phone when she walks in the door, so she doesn’t see Bill standing there in the hallway--doesn’t see the way he has his arms crossed, the authoritative set to his jaw, his pinched eyebrows.

“Hiiiiiii,” she calls out blindly down the hallway as she toes off her shoes, drops her purse on the floor.

Bill doesn’t respond. Her eyes are still on her phone, her thumbs going a mile a minute.

“Did you get the drill bits I need?” she’s still yelling because she hasn’t seen him yet, “That fucking IKEA cabinet Allan key bullshit won’t--oof.”

She walks right into his chest, stumbling back a step or two as she startles. And then she notices--notices how tall he’s standing, notices the set in his eyes, his clenched jaw. His crossed arms.

“Hi,” he says simply, lowly.

“Hi,” she stammers, “I uh, didn’t see you there.”

“I know,” he says--and then he reaches out, takes her phone from her hands. He puts it in his back pocket and crosses his arms again.

“On your knees,” he says.

“Why?” she mumbles it before she can stop, and it’s just automatic when she’s been like this--question everything, oppose everything, demand answers. But Bill just cocks his eyebrow, bends a little at the waist and gets his face in close to hers.

“You don’t get to ask questions tonight,” he whispers, and it’s soft but deliciously menacing and threatening. Tiger bites her lip, and she’s so mesmerized by him, already so turned on, that she’s rooted to the spot and she doesn’t move.

“Tiger,” he says harshly, “I won’t repeat myself.”

“Oh,” she snaps to her senses, shaking the fog from her brain. She drops to her knees. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Do you like all of this, tiger?” he weaves a hand in her hair, gently tugging it so her eyes are on him, “All of this control? All of this power?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try again,” he says, “All of this responsibility, fighting everybody’s battles. Taking care of everyone else--but who is taking care of you, hmm? Who’s taking care of my sweet girl?”

And her walls are starting to come down, that pendulum is starting to swing back ever so slowly in the natural direction.

“I am,” her voice cracks, and she says it so lowly he barely heard it.

“What’s that?”

“I am,” she says again, just a twinge louder but even then it’s barely a whisper.

“You are,” he says, “Just handling everything like a big girl. And do you like that? Not letting me take care of you? Not needing me?”

“No,” she admits.

“And is that part of our deal?”

“No,” she says again, leaning forward and bunching his pant leg in her fist. She just wants to touch him, wants to be close to him, and Bill would never stop her from doing so in moments like these. He presses his thumb to her lips, easing it inside. She sighs and her shoulders sag with relief.

“Then I think we need to fix that, don’t we?” he asks, “I miss my sweet girl.”

She whimpers around his thumb, inching on her knees closer to him and resting her forehead on his thigh.

“Do you want me to fix it sweet girl?” he murmurs, “Get you back right again?”

She nods, but he snaps his fingers and he swears that she moaned a little.

“Yes,” she says immediately, “Please, Bill.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” he says, and he withdraws his thumb from her mouth, closing his hands around her shoulders and lifting her so she’s standing in front of him, “I think I need to hear that a little more.”

She whines, but he slams his lips to hers. He kisses the hell out of her, all tongues and teeth, pulling away as she gasps for breath.

“If you want me to fix it kid,” he purrs, “Then you’re going to beg for it.”

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill #sub tiger

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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

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Portfolio

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: AU, Angst, Boss!Harry

Word count: 3.5k!

Warnings: Domestic violence mention, boss/employee dynamic

A/N: Hi! I decided to write another fic after Overnight was received so well! Again, thank you to anyone who read and enjoyed it! I’m not sure how I feel about this one lol but I think it’s good enough to post. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and send feedback! Thank you for reading!!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!

Part 2

You had always been a teacher’s pet. Growing up, you were the kid who worked hard to get a 4.0 GPA just for the rush of getting a compliment on your intelligence from your teacher. You craved that validation for all the hard work you put in and you just wanted people you admired to like you. And not for nothing, you deserved the compliments. At work, you were the first one there and the last one to leave. You loved your job and it showed.

You were currently working your first job with any real power at an up and coming public relations firm, Styles Public Relations. SPR was quickly growing in size and recognition and being brought onto the team was a dream come true. You loved everything about working there. The offices were beautiful, it paid well, and your ideas and proposals were finally being heard and brought to the public. Well, you loved everything except one glaring, irritating, and gorgeous problem: your boss.

Harry Styles was a striking man. He was tall, impeccably dressed, and obscenely attractive. His skin was perfectly tan and when it got warm in the office you could see beautiful tattoos revealed by his rolled up sleeves. Those sleeves were worth more than your life and his head-to-toe Gucci ensembles usually showed his wealth off well. He looked like he should be on the front of a magazine, not behind a desk. Well, he was on the cover of Forbes that one time. While he was so nice to look at, the man was anything but nice. He had an abrasive attitude and not much care for pleasantries or mincing words.

Today, you found yourself on the opposite end of his brutal disposition. You had brought a campaign proposal to him for a newly acquired client and he began to rip it to shreds.

“I don’t know why you thought this campaign was a good idea, Y/N,” he told you sternly. “It’s childish, silly, and unprofessional.” Every word he said dug into you. You tried to attribute his harshness to it being Monday, but you knew he would say this to you any day of the week.

“The client said they wanted something more playful to soften their image,” you defended yourself. “I was doing what they asked for.”

“Well, you did a terrible job at it.”

That stung. You had dedicated your life for weeks to this proposal and had expected him to love it. You hoped this was finally the proposal that would secure your position in his good graces. Apparently, not.

“Okay. I’ll restart the project with a different angle.” You moved forward to grab the binder off the conference room table and flee the room back to the safety of your office. You were shocked when he put his own hands on the binder and slid it away from you.

“You’re off the account. I’ll have someone else do a better job,” he spat. Now, that really hurt. Your ego was closely related to your career and you knew you deserved better than this. You did everything you could to hold back your tears, but one betrayed you and fell down your cheek. You believed you saw his hard exterior soften for a split second before his ruthless demeanor returned.

“Fine,” you breathed, never breaking eye contact with the cruel man. “I’ll leave you now, your highness.” The words left your lips before you could fully register them in your own head. You turned on your heel and rushed back to your office, thinking about the insubordination complaint coming your way.

“Did I just get myself fired?” you asked yourself softly when you were finally in the safety of your own office.

The rest of your week passed in a blur. By Friday, you had accepted your fate and decided to get every passive aggressive dig at your boss you could before you carried your things out in a cardboard box. When you saw him around the office, you made sure to make direct eye contact and shoot daggers his way and you responded to his emails with one word answers. You were also producing the best work you had in years. Turns out, spite was a fantastic motivator for you. If he was going to fire you, he would feel bad about it.

As usual, you spent your Friday night typing away in your office. You were a workaholic and had no problem with staying at work late. Unfortunately, so was your new nemesis.

You caught your first glimpse of him after-hours on a trip to the copier. Your next was on your trek to the coffee pot. Later, on a walk around the office to stretch your legs. Each time you saw him, he was in the same spot. He sat at the conference table surrounded by spreadsheets and graphics and stared perplexed at the piles of paper encompassing him. You knew you could go in and ask him if he needed help, but you wanted to watch him suffer. According to him, you would just do a terrible job anyway.

It was about 7 o’clock when you heard a firm knock on your office door. You expected it to be the cleaning crew asking to vacuum your office. With a ‘come in’ your door opened and your boss’ large body leaned up against the door frame, careful not to enter the office he knew he wasn’t welcome in. While you were shocked he was coming to talk to you, you stayed quiet. If he wanted to talk to you, he would have to break the silence. After a few awkward moments, he did.

“Um, I was thinking about ordering dinner if you wanted to join me.” This was by far the nicest thing he had ever said to you other than ‘you’re hired.’

“Well, what are you getting?”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want for dinner if you take a look at the investor relations portfolio I’m working on.” You were taken aback. He was asking for your help. He needs me, you thought as you smirked to yourself.

“Make it the Italian place down the street and we have a deal,” you countered. You didn’t want to spend anytime with him at all but you were taking this as a sign that 1) he wasn’t firing you, and 2) he thought you did good work. Also, their spaghetti bolognese was calling your name.

Soon you were both knee deep in documents and investor information packets. You absolutely could not believe it but the two of you were collaborating well and making real progress on the portfolio. This was the working relationship you always wanted to have with your big shot boss; the opposite of his constant criticism and belittling of your work.

When the food arrived, you both decided to take a break and eat like an entire company’s stock shares weren’t resting on your shoulders. While your conversation stayed surrounding work, it inevitably steered towards the account he had taken away from you.

“So, how’s my campaign doing?” you asked. You knew it was a risky question but you two had been getting along and you decided you needed an update on the account that had become your baby.

“I gave it to Marcus and-”

“Marcus? Really?” You interrupted him. “Marcus is a shithead.” Your baby deserved better than Marcus.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said in a joking manner, with a small smile. The smile was just big enough for you to notice that he had dimples. He had never smiled in front of you before. “He’s doing a horrendous job and I was going to give it back to you on Monday.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the second chance,” you confessed. “Can you level with me for a minute?” you asked after a moment of silence. “Why did you rip into me like that? You could have just told me that it wasn’t right for me and taken it away.”

You watched him think for a moment. He scratched at his five o’clock shadow (that was more like a 9 o’clock shadow now) and you could tell he was searching for the right words.

“Because it got you fired up, but I could tell I hurt your feelings and I apologize.” You never expected an apology for the way he acted and you no longer regretted showing him your emotions. He had hurt you and he should feel bad for it. “I thought you were getting complacent in your ideas and you’ve been killing it since Monday.”

“Thank you for the apology. Here I am thinking you did it just to be a dick.”

“Is that what people in the office really think of me?” He looked genuinely hurt and you felt slightly guilty for being the bearer of bad news. But you hoped if he saw it from his fearful employees’ perspective he would lighten up a little.

“Do you want me to be honest?” He nodded his head. “You act like you have a stick so far up your ass it’s touching your brain and that you’re better than everyone else because your suit costs more than my rent.” If he never minced his words, why should you?

“Oh Y/N, tell me what you really think,” he said after a pause with a light chuckle. You were surprised by his reaction. You never expected him to take something like that so well.

“Listen,” you began again. “I understand and respect your toughness on us. But there is a line between criticism and just being mean.” You decided this was a time to call him on his shit, during this very very rare moment of comradery between you. You wanted to have a healthy relationship with him, maybe even a friendship.

“I understand that I can get a bit harsh. It’s just the whole ‘is it better to be loved or feared’ thing. I’ve always thought fear would be the safer option.” You felt like you were getting to pull back the layers of his hard shell and see the human being underneath for a brief period of time.

“But if you were truly loved, no one would ever betray you,” you whispered softly, always the romantic.

“Love has never been reliable, has it?” Your heart broke for him and you realized someone doesn’t become as hardened as he is overnight. Something did this to him.

“What about love being the most powerful force on earth?” you wiggled your eyebrows at him, referring to the slogan for an engagement ring campaign you were both working on.

“Well, when your wife tries to steal the company that you built together and run away to Spain with her personal trainer, love gets a little bit more complicated.” There it is, you thought to yourself. This was the first time he ever felt like a real person to you; not like a teflon shell of anger, wealth, and ambition. His features looked softer and he seemed less like your evil boss, and more like someone dealing with a painful trauma.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” you said softly, genuinely meaning it. “Oh shit, sorry. Mr. Styles,” you corrected yourself. He laughed at your mistake and you watched his dimples reach their full potential. He looked down at the table, obviously a little uncomfortable with his rare moment of vulnerability with the woman who was probably the biggest pain in his ass in the office. Before you knew it, you had decided to share your own uncomfortable vulnerability.

“My ex put me in the hospital while I was still living in New York,” you began, watching his eyes immediately jump to yours and listen intently.

“Oh Y/N, you don’t have to talk about this… I didn’t mean-,” he tried to stop you but you figured if he shared with you, you could share with him.

“No, it’s okay. It’s been a long time,” you reassured him, shaking your head softly. “We were fighting because I found out he had been cheating on me. I had packed a bag and was trying to leave when he pushed me down the stairs of our apartment building. I broke my arm in two places and I had to have a few surgeries.” You rolled up the sleeve of your blouse and showed him the scar that ran down your forearm. You scanned his face and it looked like he genuinely cared about you for a moment. You brushed it off. “After that, I decided I needed to leave New York.”

“Why London?” he said gently.

“I was obsessed with this English boy band when I was growing up,” you laughed. “I guess I romanticised London in my head and decided it might be a good place for a fresh start.”

“While I’m incredibly sorry you had to go through all of that to get to London, I’m very glad that you found your way to me,” he spoke tenderly. His face was serious, but not the seriousness you were used to while getting scolded about your work. It was gentle and like he meant every word he said. You were happy you found your way to this version of him too.

“To the firm, I mean,” he corrected himself and you felt a weird pang of sadness inside of you. You are just his employee, remember that, you thought to yourself.

“I’m happy I found the firm too. If only I could figure out how to deal with my hellish boss?” you asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes dramatically and laughing at him. You realized that this could definitely be taken as flirting, but you decided were okay with that.

“Maybe they’re just trying to push you because you are by far the best campaign director they have,” he said nonchalantly, leaning back in his seat and watching your every movement. You felt your cheeks heat and the rush of adrenaline from finally getting his validation. This was all you ever wanted from him.

“Oh, I know,” you smirked, leaning back in your own chair and studying him as well.

He really was gorgeous. His quaffed hair had fallen over the course of the day and a few stray pieces hung on his forehead. His black dress shirt fit him so well. You were fully able to appreciate the tailored fit after he had shrugged off his blazer and removed his tie, unbuttoning the top few buttons to reveal glimpses of two swallows that sat on his collarbones. A chain that you had never gotten to see hung around his neck, a cross and the Star of David resting on his chest.

“We should get back to work,” he murmured after a few extended moments of staring at each other.

“Probably.”

You two worked for another hour or so before you let out a small yawn and Harry insisted you both call it a night. Although you protested and told him you were fine, he was firm in his demand that you go home and rest. As you packed up your things in your office, he hovered in the room and watched your every move. Conversation was relaxed and casual, not stained with the malice you usually had towards each other.

He took your briefcase from your hands, offering to help as you struggled to carry a poster and a few proposal binders, and carried it as you walked in step with each other out of the office. When you reached the front doors and went to go your separate ways, you were met with a puzzled look on his face.

“Where are you going? The parking garage is this way?”

“Oh, I don’t have a car. I take the tube wherever I have to go.”

“Let me drive you home,” he offered. When you denied his proposal, you were met with a stern, “Let me drive you home or you’re fired.”

Although you fought him the entire walk to his car, asserting that you were fine to take the train, you climbed into his beautiful jet black sports car with a huff and a pout. He had a triumphant smirk on his face that you were tempted to slap off, but decided to take this as a sign from the universe that you just weren’t meant to get blisters from your heels walking home tonight. You watched as his long fingers gripped the steering wheel skillfully and you both sat peacefully, the silence between you only interrupted when you gave him occasional directions to turn right or left. The soft sounds of a Fleetwood Mac song you couldn’t remember the name to flowed through the speakers and his mouth silently lip-synced the words. You admired him the whole drive home and you didn’t want to get out of the car when he pulled up to your building.

You both departed the car, walking around to the trunk where he had stashed your briefcase. Your casual conversations had long passed, both of you beginning to mourn the night you had together. You had enjoyed this night far more than you anticipated and you hoped this would be the first of many late nights at the office that he would join you for. You looked up at him when he handed you your briefcase and you both stood there in silence for just a few more fleeting seconds, neither of you wanting to be alone yet. You were first to break the noiseless night.

“Thank you for dinner and the ride home, Mr. Styles.”

“Please call me Harry,” he said with a subtle smile, stepping up on to the curb, closing much of the space between you.

“I can do that, Harry.” His first name felt foreign on your lips but it was a welcome change.

“Thank you for all your help tonight. I needed your fresh set of eyes on that portfolio.” This interaction felt so intimate; his words hushed and complimentary, intensified by his body’s proximity to yours.

“Whenever you need me,” you breathed, refusing to break the eye contact you were both desperately holding on to.

With one swift step he pressed your bodies and your lips together, backing you up until your body pressed against his car. You dropped your briefcase to the ground and your hands flew up to the base of his neck. He tasted like the lemon cookie he had ordered for dessert and you smelled his intoxicating cologne as you drank each other in. His hands snaked their way under your blazer and rested on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His kiss was deep and demanding and you weren’t sure if you ever wanted it to end.

This morning you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him and mere hours later you were ready to bring him up into your own. He was infuriating and rude and knew just how to push your buttons. But, he also seemed to be gentle, kind, and thoughtful when he wanted to be. Harry Styles was an enigma. You couldn’t wrap your head around him and it drew you to him even more.

Your bodies flowed in perfect sync with one another and your open-mouthed and hungry kisses were so hypnotizing you couldn’t think. Harry was the only person that existed to you anymore, tuning out the murmurs of a passersby, and anywhere your skin touched his was lit on fire.

Finally coming up for air, you breathlessly peeled your lips away from the other. You both refused to break your eye contact, your hands gripping tight to his biceps to steady your weak legs, and scanned each other’s faces.

“You have a little something,” he murmured, reaching to wipe your smudged red lipstick from your bottom lip with his thumb. You leaned into his touch and smiled up at him.

“So do you,” you panted, staring at his lips that were now stained red.

You both just stood there for a little while, soaking up the other’s company before you pulled away and things got more complicated. He was your boss after all, was this even allowed? Did he want to be something more than coworkers? If things ended poorly, would you still be able to work together? Would he be nicer to you now?

“It’s late. You should get some sleep,” he eventually broke the silence and your spiraling thoughts.

“I agree. You worked me real hard today,” you smirked at him, unable to pass up the innuendo. An amused grin spread across his lips and he took a step back from you, releasing you from his grip against the car. He gathered your things you had dropped on the ground during his assault and handed them back to you.

Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek that lingered a little too long to be considered friendly. It made your cheeks burn.

“I’ll see you Monday, sweetheart” was the last thing he said to you before he climbed back into his car and drove off into the night.

Part 2

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #boss!harry #CEO!harry #one direction #harry styles au #harryandhockey

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Reunions

All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them.

For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.

Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.

Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise.

Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.

(more after the cut)

Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.

I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.

NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight.

He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching.

Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation. That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks.

Party Time

Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety.

Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.

Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.

Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story.

Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.

Moment of Clarity

While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.

This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.

Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.

He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency.

Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted. Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.

Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.

Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.

He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him. Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.

(Point Break Quote Alert)

But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk.

OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over

Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?

The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out.

He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating.

Chenqing

He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.

Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?

Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian." She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.

Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.

He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai translates and explains in depth over here.

Bichen

Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer.

As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school.

This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.

Soup

Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.

She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.

Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.

Club Ruohan

At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead.

Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not.

Literal Stand-Up Meeting

Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill.

No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.

This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions.

Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.

The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.

The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.

While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.

Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation.

He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's.

And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.

Next: Awkwardness Increases!

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #the untamed meta #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #restless rewatch the untamed #my gifs #canary3d-original

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boilingheart · 2 years ago

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cw: suicidal thoughts //

idk how to do a read more on mobile sorry otherwise I'd crop it. I told myself I wouldn't vent about shit like this heavy and personal online anymore but I'm not doing so good and I need to put it somewhere

I'm not very healthy and I'm not very happy. I'm not doing so good mentally. Financially things suck really bad, I've been eating one meal a day for the past 3 months and I can't fall asleep until it's at least 5-6AM. I fixed my sleep schedule last week and it only lasted 2 days. It's almost 9AM that I write this and I haven't slept

My shoulder hurts again and I think it's because I got lazy on physical therapy. I'm scared ill dislocate it again. I hurt my knee at work last week and I hurt it again a few days ago and right now the whole muscle is swollen and sore and tender and I limp when I walk. I'm 24 and I feel so breakable and weak, I have no muscle, I'm too fucking tall, and I feel like any one of my bones are going to pop out of their sockets. I still have to go to work and get my license and do other things but how can I if my shoulder feels so weak? It's recovering from a dislocation still but it feels like it got worse, not to mention my trapezius has been getting pins and needles daily for no reason and no treatment has worked and my doctor doesn't know what's causing it

Somethings wrong with my skin too. I think it's eczema, I hope that's all it is, but it's the worst it's ever been. My whole left arm is completely discolored and dry and itchy and it's starting to spread on more of my body in ways I've never seen. I'm scared it'll get to my face next

I am so so uncomfortable. There's no space in my house. There's 5 of us in one house and we all fucking hate each other and There's 3 animals and there's no food and even if there is I'm too scared to go out there to eat bc my parents sleep in the living room cause there's no space for them anywhere and they fight daily and if I pass by one of them I'll aggro them and get stuck in a 2 hour lecture of some alt right bullshit or terf shit or thinly veiled misogynistic or racist takes I can't stand it

You know that phrase you can lead a horse to water but you can't force it to drink? I'm the horse. And I don't want to drink anything. I know all of my problems. I'm not working on a single project because I have no discipline and no motivation and unmedicated ADHD that's so bad it makes me wanna fucking end it. I have so many things I want to do but no drive. I'm passionate about things but not enough. I'm not going to sleep early I'm not eating or drinking I'm not exercising or doing physical therapy I'm not going for walks and getting sunlight I'm not maintaining myself beyond brushing my teeth every night, and showering when it's time to go to work and doing my job as required. I know everything I'm doing wrong. I know that what I'm doing is making everything worse. I know that I could be making it better for myself. But I dont... care anymore? I shouldn't be scratching my arms but I stopped caring about that I just want relief and I don't care the cost. I stay up late and let myself cause I just want the satisfaction of finishing this video or whatever it is I'm doing. Everything is numb. People will tell me what I need to be doing so I can stop and I'll know they're 100% correct and that I need to listen but I don't. I don't have it in me anymore for some reason. I don't know why it's so hard to just so it. I don't know. I don't know if it's executive dysfunction or depression or disassociation or what.

And thing is. I've told myself years ago I'd never kill myself. Cause like, I have so much I need to do, so much on the line, people I need to take care of, things I want to do, a lot of things to live for. I wrote down a list of things to live for that took up 2 pages, and it helped me a lot. Kept me centered and focused. I am not allowed to die because I have so much on the line. I am not allowed to.

But recently I found myself looking at this list of mine, of thinking about all these things, and... it invokes no emotion in me. I look at my long ass list of reasons to live and it does nothing for me. I don't care about them anymore??? It feels so empty. And I know that's bad. But I feel so detached and removed. I am in constant pain and constant stress and I can't lay on my right shoulder anymore cause it hurts and that sucks cause that's my favorite sleeping position, I'm always hungry and I'm always tired and I wake up at 3-4PM always and I have so many things to do to write to draw to create to record but it's not enough. It's not enough anymore. Nothing is enough. I have no drive or motivation. I don't have anything to look forward to. My goal is to move me and my siblings out of this house next year as an escape because I know this household is so unbelievably horrifically toxic and abusive that it will LITERALLY kill us if we stay here longer so I feel bad and selfish giving up before getting us out of here bc it's up to me to make sure I get us out. But I don't want to perform all this maintenance on myself anymore. I'm too lazy and cowardly to fully kill myself in one go but. I don't want to try anymore. I want to give up. I'm very very alone and I don't have irl friends and I have such a horrible way of communicating with people/friends online that I have. I keep everyone at an arms length I don't know how to be friends or reach out, I don't know how to navigate in a social space if I'm not an authority figure like a mod and that's a whole other pack of problems that comes from my inferiority complex. I don't know. I don't know. I need to say this somewhere and I'm sorry for anyone who's reading this and seeing how heavy and personal it is. I meant to stop doing this shit online already which is why I've been silent so much here but. I can't do this anymore. I'm tired. And I don't know what to do. I need help but I know that I'm the only one who can help myself because I'm the horse and I need to drink but I don't want to. I would rather drown in it. I would rather drown and I don't know what to do. I know it's bad and wrong and unhealthy all of it but I just can't stop I can't stop. I am not okay. I need help and I don't know how to get it. Nothing is accessible out here. I'm a tiger in a cage and I'm going to die here. I'm letting myself rot and decay. I'm going to die here.

#suicide cw #suicide mention

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9layerdevilfoodcake · 4 years ago

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Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

#Michael langdon x reader #Michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #far too much sarcasm

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