#at least i got to stare at 2 handsome men

[skunkes]

winston duke

[buckysgrace]

2. Two Can Keep A Secret

Closer to My Heart Masterlist

Single dad!Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader (if you wanna be added to a taglist for this let me know!! I will try to keep up with it <3)

You run into a familiar face at your second job

You’d taken up working two jobs. Seemingly a good thing since you wouldn’t be able to fix your car until the end of the week. Apparently it had been a blessing in disguise, even though you hated it majority of the time. 

It had been like that for a while. The daycare paid enough to cover your little apartment, but not much for the groceries or the things that you liked to supply to your students. And now, you’d be using the extra money to fix your car up. Lovely. 

You loved working in the daycare, being around sweet kids and watching them develop into their own little personalities. Despite issues with the parents, it was rewarding. It was nice. Even if you did face the occasional asshole, such as Billy. 

Your second job was the complete opposite of your first. It was filled with all types of Billy’s, men that were far worse than him. But you had to stand there and take it, smile so you didn’t miss out on any tips. 

You wore tight clothes, far too revealing and had to grin so brightly that you swore your face was stuck into a permanent grin by the end of the night. You reminded yourself that it was just until you got caught up, until you finished off those hospital bills. 

You supposed your coworkers made up for it in some sense. They weren’t as judgy and seemed to be a lot nicer despite all things. They were all about your age and complained about the same thing, everyone just needing to make a living. At least you could suffer together.

You collected up the tips from your last table, swiping away the paper that held a list of numbers on it before you walked away. You breathed in and out, calming yourself as you headed towards your next table. Another group of men. 

“Welcome to Bombshells,” You greeted with a smile, not quite fully facing the table yet as a sound from behind them distracted you, “How can I-,” You trailed off, your smile plastering to your face in a stiff manner as you took in the table in front of you.

On one side there was a handsome man with floppy brown hair and big brown eyes. Next to him sat a man with shorter brown hair, his face covered in brown freckles. Across from them sat someone you knew too well. And it would just be your luck for him to be here tonight.

He was still mid laugh about something, the corner of his eyes crinkled and eyes twinkling with amusement. So far out of the element you were used to. He wore a blue buttoned up shirt, something that you were sure brought out his eyes but you refused to look at him that closely. Just how you refused to note that nearly all of the buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing his tone chest. You were not looking. 

“What can I get for you?” You asked as you directed your attention towards the two brunettes, praying and hoping that Billy didn’t take notice of you. You were dressed much differently, your hair even styled in a new way, along with your makeup. There was no way, but you didn’t look at him anyways.

“Hey, hi, uh,” The brunet with thicker hair spoke up first, tossing down his menu as he turned towards you, “I think we’re doing wings. But nothing too spicy, what do you suggest?” He asked, warm eyes sinking into you as you began to list off your suggestions.

You could feel Billy’s intense stare, could feel him piercing into your skin even though you refused to look at him. You could write down his order and deliver it without saying a word to him in a nice manner. You were sure he’d mock you relentlessly if he knew.

You left as quickly as you could once their orders were taken, doing your best to keep from being rude. But you did not want to be there. You could feel the anger simmering in your veins just by feeling his gaze, by hearing his laughter. He knew. He knew and he was probably parading it around to his dumb friends. You were sure you’d go into work tomorrow and hear all about it from your supervisor.

“You alright?” Sabrina questioned you, meeting you at the bar as you gathered up the bottles of beer for your trio. You stared down at the brand Billy ordered, wondering if you could get away with spitting in it. Probably not.

“Yeah,” You nodded your head stiffly, reaching for the shot that Nick had set out for you. You took it quickly, discreetly as you tried to keep your heart from beating too roughly. You would be fine. They just wanted their discounted wings and then they would be long, “Just another night.” You added cheerily, shrugging your shoulders as sweetly as possible before you gathered your tray and walked away.

Each step felt torture, like pure agony until you reached them. You began to unload the drinks, begging your hand to stay steady as you did so. The last thing you needed was to spill it on him and have him scold you for that too.

“There you go,” You spoke directly to the other two men, keeping your smile light and breezy, “Have you gentlemen decided?” You asked, just barely grazing your eyes in Billy’s direction so you could at least pretend that you were acknowledging him.

“Any specials?” Billy spoke up, making you exhale deeply and silently as you glanced towards him. You kept your pen against the paper, staring at it instead of him. 

“Not tonight.”

“Huh,” He said as he pressed his lips together, like he was thinking thoughtfully, “Usually there’s always specials.” He drew out, like he was in deep thought. He sounded like he was saddened, but you knew the truth. He was just toying with you, trying to irritate you. 

“Usually that’s on a weekend.” You informed him as softly and casually as you could. He would not make you lose your cool today. You needed your car fixed. Your car was far more important than the smug asshole with wickedly good hair. 

“Is it now?” He asked as he continued to look at the menu slowly, “I swear it was different.” He hummed as he tapped his fingers against the back of the menu, showing off his rings that he bore on his thick fingers. No wedding ring. 

“If you need another minute, I can come ba-,” You began to tell them, gesturing towards the table around the corner that was trying to wave you down. They clearly wanted a refill. You could do that, preferably before they started whistling. 

“No need,” He hummed as he looked up at you mischievously, “I’ll just be a minute.” He told you as he shook his head, like your suggestion was unnecessary. He skimmed for another second. 

“Take your time, sir,” You drew out slowly, “Not like anyone else is waiting for service either.” You said with a laugh, ignoring how his two friends awkwardly chuckled around. Billy clearly didn’t care. Not even when he restated the order of wings that his friend had suggested earlier. You were going to scream.

You dropped the menus off at the bar, hiding them behind the counter as you tapped your fingers across the wood. Why, why did Billy have to come here out of all places? There were so many other similar bars he could visit. He should be home with Theo, not here. 

“Look at you,” The familiar warm, thick voice came from behind you as you sat down your tray on the bar table. You felt your eye twitch as you dug your fingertips into the plastic tray. Shit, “You look good in your little get up. The daycare not cutting it anymore?”

“Did you need me to add something to your order, sir?” You kept your tone sweet, sickeningly sweet. You hoped he drowned in it. 

“I like you saying that.” He leaned against the counter, elbow on his table as a smug smirk on his lips. You felt your eye twitch, stunned at his flirtatious tone as you turned to face him fully. God, did you hate his tanned skin and cool blue eyes. It should be illegal for men to have eyelashes that thick and long. 

“You’re an ass,” You seethed at last, unable to help the anger that was brewing inside of your chest, “I need both jobs and you’re not going to tell anyone about this.” You told him sternly, warning him. You didn’t want to lose out on your day job. You loved working with your students. 

“I’m not?” He replied in a mocking way, lifting his dark eyebrows before he laughed playfully, “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just fucking with you. I didn’t think you of all people would dare be in a place like this.” He laughed as he reached around, pulling an olive free from behind the bar and plopping it into his mouth. You stared. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked him seriously as you straightened your shoulders, trying to get at what he was suggesting. He didn’t even know you, but he sure did like to pick on you. You felt like you were in high school half the time. 

“It has to do with the stick that’s always up your ass.” He said as he glanced towards you, dark eyebrows raised on his forehead as he gave you a pointed look. Your lips parted in surprise. You were the one with the stick up your ass? 

“I do not have a stick-,” You stopped yourself, sighing deeply as you touched your face gently before you freaked out on him, “Again. Was there something you needed?” You asked him again, tone clipped this time as you stared him down. He shook his head, chuckling before he walked back to his table. 

You stared at him in anger, observing how broad his shoulders were and how his hips moved. He had a certain swagger to him, his jeans just a little too tight. Not that you were really complaining, because he did have a nice body. But you quickly shook that away. He was still an ass. 

“Who was that?” Sabrina asked as she bumped against your hip, wiggling her eyebrows before she refilled the drinks onto her tray. You supposed you should do the same, but what you really wanted right now was a cigarette. Even though you hadn’t had one in a long time. 

“The world's biggest asshole,” You mumbled, “I watch his son during the day.” You explained as you stared down at the refill list for your next table, gathering up the drinks that had been left for you. 

“You guys have something going on?” She asked as she popped her bubble gum, raising her perfectly styled brows high onto her forehead. You nearly toppled your tray over, staring at her in disbelief. 

“Ew no,” You spit out quickly, “Never. Never ever. Not even if he was the last person on Earth.” You scoffed, pretending to gag at the thought. She laughed at your childish behavior. 

“Really? Because it seemed like you had some sort of tension,” She smirked, “Sexual.” You rolled your eyes, you pretended to dry heave this time. Truly feeling like her suggestion was leaving you sick. 

When you returned to the table next, Billy was gone. You secretly hoped that he had had enough and actually left, but his friends insisted that he would be back soon. Much to your displeasure.

You caught his eye on the way back to the bar, noticing that he was sitting with some pretty girl who had been nursing drink after drink since you had arrived. You cocked an eyebrow but said nothing, wondering if this was really where he went to pick up girls.

He didn’t seem to get the hint as he approached a second later, feigning interest in the desserts as you dryly passed the menu back to him. 

“Was that your girlfriend?” The question slipped from your tongue before you could stop yourself, taking you by surprise as he drifted his eyes away from the menu and towards you. 

“No,” He responded, furrowing his eyebrows together at the way you snorted, “Are you suggesting something?” He asked, his tone laced with attitude as his icy eyes met yours. 

No, as much as you liked to think he was a manwhore you knew that he wasn’t. He was always polite to your coworkers, respectful. He was a flirt for sure, but it seemed more playful than anything. And you were no stranger to why Theo always missed his birthdays. They had somewhere else to be on those days.

“I don’t care why you’re here.” You said at last, shrugging your shoulders as he waited for you to tell you what he wanted for dessert. He shook his head as he snorted this time, like he didn’t believe you. 

“My friends think I need to get laid.” He said at last, shrugging as he leaned lazily against the counter. You watched the way his blonde hair curled against his shoulders. You drifted your eyes across his soft nose, then over the light freckles on his cheeks. 

“Well it’s not going to be me.” You said in surprise, unsure if he was trying to hint at something or not. You would never. Not with a customer and certainly not with a parent of one of your students. Especially him. 

“I would never ask you,” He said as he looked at you with disdain, “Even if you did try to impress me with the outfit.” He replied smugly, making you simmer all over again. Fuck him and his dessert. You didn’t need some lousy tip from him. 

“I didn’t-, I would never-,” You sputtered out all at once, your body erupting into flames at his suggestion, “You’re the one who showed up to my work place.” You reminded him, your voice only becoming more shrill and higher pitched as you defended yourself. 

“Right,” He dragged his tongue along his teeth as he grinned cockily at you, obviously enjoying the reactions he got from you, “I guess I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” He said as he passed the menu back to you, leaving you gripping it so tightly that you thought it might snap from underneath your grip. 

“Yeah,” You muttered hotly under your breath, “I guess you will.”

You woke up late the next morning. Your alarm clock laughing in your face as you stumbled out of bed late, tossing on the closest outfit you could reach and neglecting breakfast and your morning drink of choice before you were out the door.

“Late night?” Billy asked with a smirk on his lips. He was the opposite in the mornings, always the first parent to arrive rather than the last.

“No,” You mumbled underneath your breath, fearful that someone would hear him as you unlocked your door and pushed it open. You hit the lights next, sighing as he followed you inside, “You can pull his cot out if you want.” You added a second later, noticing how Theo was still curled up against Billy.

“Mhm,” He hummed as he slowly removed Theo’s backpack from his shoulders. The little boy curled right back up against him, clinging to him like a Koala, “You work there every night?”

“No,” You said as you dropped your bag, “Just Monday through Thursday. It gives me the weekends off.” You missed out on the best days to actually work, but at least you got your weekends to yourself.

“That’s a lot,” He responded, making you narrow your eyes for whatever snarky reply would come next. You were sure he would insinuate that you were a whore, the same way your previous dates had, “Doesn’t it get tiring?” 

“Nobody cares how tired I am, I still have to get my bills paid,” You reminded him, watching the way Theo nuzzled his little nose against Billy’s neck. He looked content as he laced his fingers through Billy’s shirt, “And it doesn’t affect my performance here at all.”

“Never said it would,” He replied shortly, “Can you take him?” He asked as he shifted Theo once again, making the toddler squeak in his sleep.

“You don’t want to say goodbye?” You asked him curiously, feeling like Theo would be upset when he woke up and noticed that his father was missing. He always got upset when Billy had to leave.

“If he’s sleeping it’ll keep him from crying,” He mumbled as he passed Theo off to you, “Thanks.” He bent low, close enough that you could smell the cologne off of him as he pressed his lips against Theo’s forehead repeatedly. 

You couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move other than to adjust Theo in your arms as the overwhelming scent of Billy filled your nostrils. He smelt good. Far too good. 

Theo rested his head against your shoulder, sighing deeply through his nose as Billy ruffled his hair one last time before he left. He said nothing to you, not that you minded. This was the most you had spoken to him in months. Years.

Still, an odd sensation filled you as you watched Billy leave. You were curious, doubtful about what his true intentions were. He was the last person you wanted to trust, especially with a secret that would ruin your job here. You knew how your boss was, they wouldn’t like what you did on the side.

“Oh and-,” He paused in the doorway, glancing back at you as a smug smirk formed on his lips, “I think you’re doing a damn good job trying to impress me in this outfit too.” He said smugly, sending you a wink before he was out the door. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat, swearing it was anger as you felt every muscle in your body twist and curl into a big ball. Warmth raced through your veins as you sighed angrily, hating how easily he crawled underneath your skin. 

What an ass.

[ellaa-writes]

Roommates part 2

And now back to the regularly scheduled program, takes place right after the first part. Got really into the smut scene which is honestly the whole thing. Had to end it short as I'm trying to focus on this lecture and not work myself up.

Cw: 18+, porn also very short (not proof read!)

You never thought this would be happening right now. Your tall dark and handsome roommate, naked from the waist down, dick swinging in the air as he stands before you.

"Just a touch, I promise it's not scary." what the hell is happening. Tonight was suppose to be care free and fun, at least that's what Kate said before her boyfriend called and they got into a fight. Leaving you to walk home the short distance, a block and half, from where she stopped her car to yell at him. You didn't understand why they were still together, the defitnion of toxic.

When you came home you found your roommate jerking off with your favourite panties, right in the living room. Sure you've dreamt of similar scenarios but you didn't think your roommate König would be trying to convince you to touch his dick.

Maybe you should, what's the harm in it. Your not dating anyone, violently single. König was the hottest guy you knew, violently hot. Every girl and guy on campus swooning at the hulking giant. Having to tell every girl that asked you to rely a message to him that they could do it themselves. And you didn't doubt they did, since living with him and becoming friends you have not once seen him go on a datle, let alone bring someone home. You began to assume he was gay.... but you were proven wrong.

"Get on the bed." you commanded him, watching as an eyebrow raised but he sat himself on the edge of your queen bed. You sunk to your knees in front of him, tugging down his jeans and boxers to the floor, pooling around his feet. It was long, and thick, maybe a little too much, a voice in your head spoke up. It sure was intimidating, you thought only porn stars and the alien men in the books you read have big dicks, you were once again proven wrong.

Konig eyes widening, staring down at you kneeling between is thighs. You took him into your hand, so thick that your fingers couldn't fully wrap around. But that didn't disencourage you, starting out with small licks to his angry red head. Light kisses starting at the base to the slit that's now leaking furiously.

König whinning above you, trying to rock his hips into your lips but you just pulled away. "Stop moving or I'll leave you like this." you warned him, not sure where this dominate side of you coming from. "Bitte, bitte." whined, stilling his hips.

You started off with just the head, your jaw opening as wide as it could to take him into your mouth. "Fuck!" König yelled from above, laying his upper body down across the bed. You sucked on the tip for a bit, trying to get your jaw use to the shear size of this man. Slowly sinking further down his cock, stopped when you could feel yourself start to gag a bit.

"Scheiße! Oh mein gott." König couldn't take much more of your soft warm mouth. Shooting up from his laid out position, pulling you off his cock. He manhandled you onto the center of the bed, using his big arm to spread your thighs till they were touching on either side of you, causing you wince a little. "Sorry." he said but not to you but to your pussy.

"Look, she's crying for me" he whispered, his deft finger poking the wet spot that soaked through your panties. "I've dreamt about this day, many nights." he still was talking to your aching pussy. Now it was your turn to thrust your hips at him. König wanted to prepping you a little, but seeing you so needy and eager "Tell me if it's too much." he breathed out heavily, climbing up your body and slotting his hips between your thighs. He kicked his pants and boxer off in the move, your dress was at your hips. König tugged down the front of it just a bit, to reveal your tits.

Yanking the fabric separating your pussy to him, to the side. Running is fingers meticulously up and down your glisenting slick. Coating his digits as he spread out your wetness, then dragging it over his already wet cock. You say up on your elbows as König lined up his tip to your entrance, slowly pushing forward with his hips. The feeling of your lips parting for the massive girth, stretching around him.

A shudder racked with his body at the first sensation of your heat. The silky walls sucking him in, hooking him into the trance. König took his time, not wanting to rush this moment and to also hurt you. He wasn't sure of your past sexual experiences, he's heard a few hushed conversations with your friends. But since meeting you, you've never brought anyone around. But you could have been to embarrassed to, wouldn't put it past you to sneak around behind his back. But he was certain he is the biggest you ever saw and now had inside you. He could tell by the way your mouth hung open when it first spotted his cock.

Your hands gripped fistfuls of your sheets, watching has his cock disappeared into you. König pulled out a bit, just to plunge back in. Watching as you arched off the bed a little, rocking forward gently. Working your way down his soaked cock, meeting his lazy thrusts.

Gripping your thighs he pulled you closer to him, causing his dick to almost fully sheathed itself into you. You cried out at the sudden movement, König leaned forward and whispered a shush into your ear. Licking a path down to your neck where he began to suck. He was panting hard, his ragged breaths fanning out onto your skin.

He was thrusting more powerfully now, in and out. The sound of your pussy juices squelching echoed around your small room. His hands found yours, handing them tightly. Your legs wrapped around König hips and interlocked across his ass. His pubic bone brushing against you clit ever so slightly, sending you further over the edge until it your were blinded by your orgasm. Spazzing around his cock, König gritted his teeth. The feeling of your pussy squeezing around him was too much, he came too fast to pull out. Filling your tight pussy with his thick load, before he pushed himself off of you.

He watched has some of it dribbled out and onto your sheets. Looking at you pleadingly, it was an accident he swears but deep down its what he truly wanted. You were too fucked out to care or even notice.

Buzzz buzzzzz

The door buzzer startling both of you.

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up!

Past (ii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

The man before you has a ten-year streak of picking which tribute will win. Or, at least, that’s what he’s been claiming for the past twenty minutes or so. He said it has something to do with a lot of strategic planning and background research, but at this point, he could say it had something to do with the phases of the moon and you’d still nod along. You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s definitely more than luck, I can assure you.” His hand catches your shoulder in his attempt to hold your very fleeting attention, trailing down your back more and more in his excitement. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details, they might be a touch too complicated for you to understand.” He laughs and you smile coyly, sidestepping his touch. You’re no stranger to the heavy-handed petting of men and women with ulterior motives, no matter how innocent they try to play it off as being at first.

It’s nighttime in the arena, and most of the tributes are getting a spare few hours of sleep before the nightmare continues. Meaning this watch party has turned into an actual party. Honestly, you don’t even know how you got trapped in a conversation with this guy.

You sip delicately from your straw, eyes roaming over the room of mingling bodies and wall-length screens depicting the games live—eager to look at literally anything but him. And that’s when you spot him: your saving grace walking by himself with his hands in his pockets.

You make eye contact with Finnick and smile, waving him over. He only hesitates for a split second, but it’s long enough that you worry he’ll leave you to fend for yourself. A fear that’s only abated when he calls out your name and approaches with a mystified grin.

“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you but you ignore him in favor of turning back to the man who somehow looks more starstruck than before.

“I’m sorry, but Finnick here promised me a dance.” You explain, pulling an excuse out of your ass. You loop your arm with Finnick’s, practically hanging off of him, and you hope beyond hope that Finnick is good at reading social cues. It should be obvious, right? You’re a big neon sign flashing ‘HELP ME’ in no uncertain terms. 

“I did?” He asks, clearly confused at such a friendly greeting, but you stare up at him pleadingly and you must be projecting enough distress that he gets the memo. His back straightens in understanding and he smiles at the other man. “I did. But you know us victors, as slippery as an eel.” The other man lets out a flustered laugh. Finnick tilts his head as the band starts up. “Oh, I love this song. You don’t mind, do you? Thanks.”

You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.

Your arms are still looped together as he leads you to the area where the other couples have decided to dance. 

“May I have this dance?” He teases and you get a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Well, we’re already here, aren’t we?” You laugh. You loop your arms behind his neck, and big hands grab either side of your waist. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” He sighs, any chance of him being serious is shattered by his smirk.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow before raising to touch your hairline when he spins you.

“You know; you being a damsel in distress, and me saving you by being dashingly handsome and charming.” He clears his throat obnoxiously and puffs up his chest playfully. You’re sure if his hands were free he’d stretch to flex his muscles.

“Mhm,” You hum doubtfully. “Those are…certainly words that could be said with your name in the same sentence.” 

“...I think that’s the most roundabout way anyone has ever insulted me before.” His jaw drops before he grins down at you in amused surprise. You laugh at his face, sobering up a little.

“But thank you, Finnick. Seriously. I’m sorry I keep relying on you to pull me out. It’s just…” You don’t know what else to do.

“No, it’s alright. It’s fun, honestly. We rarely get to exercise the little authority we have over them.” His mouth shrugs instead of his shoulders, an endearing motion. “Better enjoy it while you can, right?’’ 

You nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He straightens up subtly as your probing stare looks him up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way. You look great, but you don’t really seem like a suit kind of guy.” There’s nothing about his outward appearance that gives away how uncomfortable he is, but you only need to talk to him for a few minutes to know this isn’t the sort of thing he’d choose to wear. Not that he looks bad in it; far from it. The coat is tailored to sinch at his waist and a few buttons of his undershirt are undone. The color of the jacket complements his skin tone quite well and the little pocket square makes his eyes pop. 

“Thank you. Try telling that to my prep team.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently, telling them I feel like a circus monkey playing dress up isn’t enough to dissuade them, so I might need a second opinion.”

Circus? "Wait, you’ve seen a monkey before?” You ask in awed disbelief. His mouth moves wordlessly at your enthusiasm.

“Well…not in person, per se.”

Past (ii) - Finnick

[16 & 17] - THE NEXT DAY

Finnick pours the rest of his drink into one of the potted plants he walks past, unbuttoning his suit coat once he's out of sight. This really is the last time he's letting his stylist dress him up in this getup. He rubs his temple in an attempt to soothe his growing migraine. As far as he's concerned, his job here is done. He has no reason to keep watching the games. His tributes already died. He pushes the doors open to the wide balcony and stops in his tracks. Of the many things Finnick expects to find out here, your crying isn't one of them. His first thought is that you're mourning your tributes. His second thought is that Snow got to you. It's an odd time for Snow to drop that kind of proposition on you. There are too many people here, too open for that kind of conversation. He scratches that out and circles back to his first thought. When he wasn't busy rubbing elbows with sponsors, he was keeping an eye out for your tributes. Switching periodically from his kids to yours and he can't, for the life of him, explain why. They got pretty far, considering they were malnourished and had no combat training. The boy got crushed under a tree after an earthquake and the girl stayed with him until he died. Though, it wasn't long before a Career shot an arrow through her head. The balcony door shuts behind him, and you whip around. Neither of you says anything as you rush to wipe your face. There’s an awkward lull as you both silently assess each other. "If you tell me it gets easier, I will push you off this balcony." He doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a moment to look at you. God, you're beautiful. Even now, wiping away your tears and your hurt, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He doesn’t say any of that. "I wasn't going to." He raises his hands placatingly. He waits for you to tell him to leave, but the demand never comes. He almost offers to but decides against it for no other reason than not wanting to leave you out here alone. Instead, he moves closer and leans against the railing. It's quiet between you both as you try to hide your tears. He looks at you from the corner of his eye a few times and scratches an eyebrow with his thumb. It’s odd to think the two of you were laughing and enjoying each other’s company only yesterday. "I cried in a supply closet the first time my kids died." He glances at your surprised face before looking back down at the view. He clears his throat around the words trapped in his throat. He’s never told anyone this before, he’s never wanted to. "A fourteen-year-old girl named Dahlia, and a sixteen-year-old boy named Nyle. They didn't even make it out of the Cornucopia." Nyle was decapitated by a tribute from One and Dahlia's throat was slit by a tribute from Seven. Finnick remembers crying so hard that he threw up in a mop bucket. "Why are you telling me this?" That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously. 

"Your first game as a mentor is always the hardest, and it doesn't get easier. But,” he shrugs and pulls the artfully folded, blue handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and hands it to you. Turns out this suit is good for something, "you do learn what to expect. You get used to that hurt, build up a tolerance to it." At least, he hopes so. This is his third year as a mentor and the burn is still there. How much longer until he tries to extinguish it by using substances? The Morphlings lasted two and four years, respectively. Haymitch lasted two months. You look between him and the handkerchief for a second before using it to wipe at your eyes. "It's completely different than being in the games. It's different watching." You whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Yeah. It is.” That's another thing they don't mention when you become a victor. The after is often worse than the during. It’s a thought he had when he saw you at your Victor Tour celebration. He doesn’t know what exactly made him ask you to dance, it could have been the tenseness you carried in your shoulders like a wounded animal being surrounded, or maybe it was the way your pretty face cracked and shattered like glass the longer the Capitols talked to you.

You were a commendable actor, sure, you’d certainly have fooled anyone else. But you just, you had looked so alone—completely overwhelmed with the piranhas circling you. So he threw you a line.

Your words swim through his head. 

And you want to save me? He didn’t say your assessment was right, in fact, he had ignored what you said entirely. But he never said you were wrong either. He doesn’t suddenly have a savior complex or anything, he’s got no delusions of being some kind of hero. It’s just. He knows how much he would have appreciated it if someone had stepped in on his behalf when he was fourteen, even for just a moment. It would have made all the difference. But there hadn’t been anyone. So, if he has the chance to change that for you—stop the crippling despondency before it sweeps you away—why wouldn’t he?

Finnick won’t overestimate his influence. If Snow gets to you, there’s very little he can do about it. But.

It doesn’t seem like he’s made you the offer yet. Doesn’t that mean something? Snow is nothing if not punctual, very cut-throat in that regard. If he wanted something from you, he would have asked already, right? So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.

He looks up to the sky. One of the many things he hates about the Capitol is the smog. They're in the mountains, but the sky is so polluted it's hard to even see the moon sometimes. "Can you see the stars well in Eleven?" He asks, waving off your attempt to hand him back the handkerchief. You can burn it for all he cares. "Yeah,” you nod. "We focus on agriculture, so there are no mills or factories to pollute the air." You move closer to where he's leaning and look up. It feels almost instinctual to copy you, to get closer and fall into your orbit. "Hmm," he hums, "same for Four. Ships come in and out of the harbor, but I don't think they do much damage." The calmest he's felt in his entire life is when he's staring up at the sky at night, sand under his feet, and waves crashing in the background. "A friend of mine loved looking at the stars. She never knew any of the constellations, so she'd make up her own with stories to go with them." Mags loved telling him all the stories she made up when she was his age. Even after the stroke took her ability to speak, she'd point up at a constellation and have Finnick retell them to her. "My dad knew the real constellations." There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it. "He'd tell them to me whenever we came back from harvesting." "The real constellations, huh?” He glances over his shoulder at the glass door leading inside. The game is down to its last few tributes. No one should come looking for either of you. "How about for every real story you tell me, I tell you a made-up one?" He grins at you, the bar of the balcony digging into his back as he turns around. Odd. He can’t remember the last time he’s been alone with someone—someone other than Mags and Annie—and has kept all of his clothes on. "Won't they miss you in there? I mean you’re definitely the main attraction in every room you're in." You nudge him gently with your elbow, looking up at him through wispy eyelashes. Your eyes are still a little red from your earlier crying, but they’re heavy and focused entirely on him. He's used to people flirting with him. Hell, he does it almost as readily as he breathes. But he isn't used to you flirting with him. That tentative way of yours makes him nervous. It’s nothing he’s used to. It feels too real. "I don't care what they think," he shrugs a shoulder, biting his lip to stop from smiling too broadly, "The real party's out here, anyway." You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.

“Deal.” You hold up your pinky to him, something so openly childish that he can’t help but laugh. 

“Deal.” He locks his pinky with yours and you nod at each other before dropping your hands.

"You see that up there? Those tiny clusters of stars," he watches your finger draw a W between five stars, "are called Cassiopeia. And those five stars above it are called Cepheus. They were husband and wife, queen and king. Cassiopeia offended Poseidon by saying her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the sea nymphs—close friends of his. So he punished her by sending a flood and a sea monster that would destroy their country unless they sacrificed Andromeda." Finnick looks from the sky to the side of your face as you continue talking. He follows the line of your jaw up to your mouth and watches as your full lips form the words of your story. The moon is full, the sky is bright, and he's entranced by more than just the stars. “After they died, Zeus put them in the sky together because Cepheus was a descendant of one of Zeus's lovers. A little weird, honestly.” Your face scrunches up in a decidedly cute way at the thought. “Cepheus sits with his scepter, and Cassiopeia sits chained to her throne as a punishment by Poseidon. As if having to sacrifice her daughter wasn’t enough. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?" 

“Yeah.” The yellow lights from inside blanket you from behind, while the moon’s white glare reflects in your eyes. “They are.” You catch him staring and look at him expectantly. You're starting to fidget and he realizes he’s been quiet for a concerning amount of time. “My friend…” he pauses and makes a quick decision, "my friend Mags, she calls that one the Turtle and the Fish. Eros was mischievous and vain, as most gods are. He wanted to show off to a sea nymph, so he made a turtle and a fish fall in love to prove his power transcended species. But fish don't live as long as turtles, and once its lover died, the turtle mourned for one hundred years at the bottom of the sea. Poseidon, who felt his subject's grief, put them together amongst the stars for all eternity." He turns to you and finds you staring at him. "What?" He asks with a laugh, embarrassed for whatever reason. "I know it’s pretty simple compared to yours, but—" He cuts himself off when you smile at him again. "No, I liked it." You nod at your own words like you're agreeing with yourself. "It was sweet. Your Poseidon is way nicer than mine. Maybe you can tell your friend one of my stories. To show her how different they are." You shrug like it's a dumb, throwaway idea, before turning away from him in a haste to look back up at the sky. 

He doesn’t understand. How can you just offer something like that like it’s nothing? You clearly loved your father very much and he picked up on the past tense when you talked about him. These stories are quite personal to you and he had assumed you hadn’t wanted them to be shared, but…Maybe he will tell her. 

“Oh. Good. I just—I’m not much of a storyteller, so…I might’ve completely butchered that.” He swears it sounds much better when he retells it to Mags.

“It was great, Finnick. You were great.” You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself. “Can you tell me another one?” You ask guilelessly, and who is Finnick to say no?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Present (ii) - Finnick

[ 23 & 24] - District Four 

"Mags: milk and cinnamon," Finnick places two tea cups before the two women, "And, Annie: a spoonful of honey." Mags smiles up at him in thanks as Annie takes a sip. He walks back to the kitchen to pour his own cup. It’s odd. He hadn’t always been a tea drinker. But now he practically puts on a new cup for every occasion, entirely your influence. He rests against the counter, letting it dig into his hip. It wouldn't be long before Snow announced the stipulations for the third Quarter Quell and Finnick can admit in the safety of his own mind that he's nervous. There were whispers among the Capitols and none of it painted a pretty picture. One of his clients informed him about a new Gamemaker, supposedly some kind of creative genius. He rolls his eyes at the thought. Yeah, he bets the guy is absolutely brilliant at torturing children. He drops five sugar cubes into the tea before grabbing a licorice root to stir it with. He joins them on the couch, staring at the sliced berries floating in his cup. There's something in the air. Word travels fast in close circles and it's no secret that there are more and more riots breaking out in the districts. Katniss and Peeta's win is still fresh on everyone's tongue. Snow has stayed quiet and with the Quarter Quell on the horizon, Finnick knows it—he can feel it in the atoms of his very being that it's going to end poorly. Or at the very least, worse than normal. What fresh hell will Snow come up with this time? Snow appears before a cheering crowd, foreboding even through the TV. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." He places his cup on the table and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," Mags grabs onto his arm, frail fingers gripping his wrist. He wonders if she can feel the pulsing of his rapid heartbeat, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district." Annie lets out a blood-curdling scream and it echoes past Finnick's ears. Her glass shatters on the ground and scalding tea splashes on his feet. He doesn't flinch. Normally, whenever Annie got like this, he would comfort her—talk her through it, but he can't move. The tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors and all of the victors of District Four are in this room. Mags’s physical state and Annie’s mental state guarantee one thing: regardless of who gets picked, they won't survive it. He'll be losing someone either way, and that's if he survives. If he survives, because Finnick is the only male victor for Four. There's no doubt, no one volunteering for him. He will be reaped and that, that was just— He rubs at his eyes with the base of his palms, fighting back a migraine. He makes a mental list: he'll be picked, Johanna and Blight will be picked, Chaff will be picked and— His hands move to pull at his roots. There are only two female victors in Eleven. There are only two, but Seeder loves you like she raised you herself. There's still hope, still a chance that you won't be picked, that she'll take your place if you're reaped. You'll be safe. And then, he remembers: Seeder is a mother, she's a wife. There are people that need her. He won't put it past Snow to rig the outcome for Eleven. He'll put Seeder's name in twice and pat himself on the back for seemingly ensuring your freedom. When, in reality, he's only ensured that you'll be in the arena. 

Finnick knows this because he knows you. Better than he knows anyone, better than he knows himself. He knows that you're brave, that you're stubborn enough to put a cabezon to shame, that you're stupidly compassionate. He knows that you'll never be able to live with yourself if you don't volunteer in her place. 

His head falls to the back of the couch. That's one thing he and Snow have in common, the only thing. Their love has damned you. Annie is mumbling to herself, having screamed herself hoarse at this point. But she keeps making jerking movements as if she wants to run. He steals a few breaths, taking a moment to gather himself—his fears, his hopes, his anger—he gathers it all and stores it away. "C'mon, Annie. Let's go outside for a walk." A stroll along the shoreline usually calms her down and he gets the allure. At least with the cooling breeze and the ocean mist from crashing waves, Finnick can close his eyes and pretend to be someone else. Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety. He stands, stepping around shards of glass and pools of cooling tea, pulling Annie up with him. He doesn't get far before Mags grabs his hand. She's worried, he can see it in her frown. She has every right to be. “I'm,” not fine, far from it, “right here, Mags. Don't worry about me.” He leaves behind Mags's concern and the sound of Caesar Flickerman's excited voice recounting Snow's speech. He pinches the skin between his thumb and index finger, pressing down until it hurts. Then he presses down until the muscle throbs. The sea breeze hits him in the face when he opens the door and he thinks. The boat is sinking and he can only swim for so long.

-

A/N: Side note, that was "stubborn enough to put a bull to shame" but I figured Finnick wouldn't know enough about bulls to know they're stubborn. So I picked the fish equivalent of a bull.

[lucysstoryworld]

Lease of Life | Azriel x Reader part 2

Hey! Thank you all so much for all the love on the first part. I am honestly blown away by the support and didn’t expect it to become so popular, so truly thank you for that. You’re all incredible.

Just a forewarning, it has been awhile since I read acotar so some things won’t be exactly like the book so forgive me :)

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, violence, dark thoughts.

Drip… Drip… Drip…

Was that noise water of blood?

Where am I?

What happened?

The pounding reverberating through your skull was the only thing you were sure of at the moment. The dull, slow throbbing that threatened your already nauseated stomach even if you so much as lifted a finger. It didn’t help that the breathing of whoever was in the cold room with was so damn irritating. Silence is what you needed, craved. Just enough silence that you could exist unnoticed until the pain passed. 

Room... breathing.. 

Realisation dawned upon you, prising your eyes open with such violence that  the ache in your head threatened to render you unconscious. Inch by inch, you pushed yourself from the ground, feeling as though you were moving in slow motion. You searched around the room, trying to find the source of the breathing. Trying to find your sisters. 

Though you were met with the face of a man. Long, golden hair. Green eyes. Positively handsome. He made a troubled face look exquisite. 

“You’re awake. He will be pleased,” He seemed to say more to himself than to you. 

“Where are my sisters?” Voice crackled, throat aching for water. 

“Safe. That is all you need know, (F/n).” 

He had to be joking, “Safe? Safe... How wonderful, a bunch of men come into my home, rip us from our beds and... murder our staff. How safe of you,” Speaking, no, barking at him the way you did was sure to earn you a beating. However, the images of Dina’s snapped neck fuelled the fire raging at the core of your being. 

“Males,” He responded, eyes flicking from your own to the damp ground you were currently seated on. 

“What?” 

“You said men. Fae are not men and women. We say males and females.” You furrowed your eyebrows, staring at the... male as if he had grown a second head. 

“So from what I just said to you, all you got was that I incorrectly termed your friends. Whatever.” You seemed to trigger something in him, he curled in on himself slightly. 

The moment of vulnerability was short lived when his eyes hardened and he pushed himself to his feet, “You’re more like her than the others. You should keep that smart mouth of yours shut if you know what’s good for you,” Was all he said before he took his leave.

A slight groan and another wave of sickness had you resting your head upon the tiles. At least the cold was smoothing your headache. It lulled you into a dreamless sleep. 

* * *

When you awoke once again, it was instead to the sound of heavy footsteps nearing your cell. A cell. Your confusion from before hadn’t allowed you to fully realise your surroundings. Not that you had much to look at. Nor did you have much time to dwell on it. The headache had not passed and this time it had brought a fresh fever. A cold shiver rattled your body before you were hauled to your feet by those who entered your prison. More males. Lifting you seemed to be as easy as lifting paper to them. You were sure these were the beasts humans were taught to fear. Brutal and ruthless. When your feet began to falter, the creatures shoved you with such force that you stumbled into the ones in front of you. Your breaths became laboured, lungs weak and your heart was stuttering in your ears. From the fear or the stress on your body you weren’t sure.

Blackness began to dance in your peripheral vision when you finally stopped in front of a large wooden door. The slight tang of blood hinted at the back of your tongue, as a slow dark stream dribbled from your nose. Before you had the chance to try stump the flow, a shove had you staggering into the large room. The light sent white hot pain spearing through your eye sockets. Once again, hands plunged you forward. This time, there was no one in front to cushion your fall and you slammed onto the floor, your hands barely catching your body. 

“You bastard! What did you do to her?!” Nesta’s voice ripped through the room like ice cold water. 

Raising your head, you finally saw everything. Your sisters on a dais, kneeling before three crowned women... definitely women. Though the expressions on their faces matched that of the animals that treated you as though you were dirt beneath their feet. Front and centre on the dais was another male whom, like every other fae male and female had a face that seemed to blessed by beauty for which gods kept for themselves. His face was wickedly beautiful, cruelty incarnate. In spite of that, the cauldron in the centre of the room seemed to suck the life out of the room. 

No... it consumed it. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes from it, even as fear prickled your very soul. It was like it was daring you to look away. Taunting you. 

A loud ringing pierced through your hearing, like it was only you and the cauldron. Facing off. It eating into every fear that you possessed. 

“(F/n)!”

Feyre’s screech finally had you moving your gaze. She was surrounded by her family, her eyes screaming unbridled terror. Terror for you, Nesta and Elain. 

“You lay one traitorous hand on her, Tamlin, and I will make good on the debt owed to me for my mother and sister,” Rhysand growled. Turning your head, you saw the blonde male who greeted you in your cell. He seemed frozen in place, his hand outstretched with a scrap of cloth. You assumed it was for your nose, but you could not bring yourself to take it. Your senses were overridden, panic replacing the blood in your body. 

“Now, now. Enough with the theatrics and let us get to the purpose of today.” Everyone’s attention snapped to the man. With a wave of his hand, two men picked Elain up. Elain who was as pale as a sheet of parchment. Elain who made no acknowledgment of the situation thus far. “As promised, human queens. I will show you that immortality can and will be gained.” 

Nesta’s thrashing and screaming became violent as she fought with all her might to get to Elain. Be that as it may, her efforts were fruitless. Elain was plunged into the cauldron, seconds and eons seeming to pass simultaneously. 

A tingling danced through your fingers, an aura passing through your vision. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t happening. Elain had to be okay. She is to be married soon. With that insufferable, alpha-male Grayson that, in this moment, you wished with all your might would come in and rescue her. Save her from the hell she was plunged into. Loud, rattling breaths racked your body, the thumping to your head returning with a vengeance. You locked eyes with Feyre, trying to tell her what was about to happen with your eyes alone. Pleading with her to make you safe. 

And when that blasted cauldron was tipped, and Elain slithered out covered in a sheen of some otherworldly essence was when your eyes rolled back into your head and you dropped to the floor. 

* * * 

Nesta, Feyre and the inner circle watched in horror as convulsions jerked (F/n)’s body. Feyre thrashed and fought in attempt to get to you with Nesta following suit. “Please let me go to her! Please! She will choke!” Mania seemed to grip Nesta’s body. When she could not break free from her captor’s hands, she began to wail “Just turn her on her side at least! Please!”

Tamlin took it upon himself to hold (F/n) on her side as foam began to leak from the corner of her mouth. “I want her in next!” Hybern boomed, seemingly delighted by the situation. His eyes were focused on the newly fae Archeron sister. Elain, whom was examining her new body, still had not uttered a word. She only turned and watched as a guard ripped her sister’s still seizing body from Tamlin’s grip and approached the cauldron. 

Nesta’s crying, Feyre’s roars, all efforts fell on deaf ears as (F/n)’s body disappeared below the surface of the cauldron’s depth. 

* * *

Cold, yet warm. 

Harsh, yet gentle. 

Welcoming, yet uninviting.

All the sensations of the void were at odds with one another. 

Darkness. That was the only thing that appeared to be harmonious in this environment. You wished to stay in the peaceful void, though your body screamed at you to get out. 

What seemed like an eternity passed when light flooded your senses once more. The peace was short lived when you coughed a black liquid up onto the tiled floor. Your head shot up, eyes meeting that of Azriel’s, whom looked like he had seen a ghost. 

“What’s happening?” You all but squeaked, barely remembering anything from entering the room and now. Looking down at yourself, you felt a gentle whirring in your blood. A whirring that felt like you had been born anew. Reborn with a body that felt strong, that bared no hint of the ailments from before. 

When your lithe fingers made contact with your ear, it all made sense. 

Fae. 

“What the fuck,” You whispered to yourself. 

A strange scent flooded your nose, something that you could not explain nor had you ever smelled it before. Whatever it was, it felt wrong. 

The cauldron. 

That’s what it was, you realised when you turned to see Nesta being dragged towards its domineering opening. You wanted to move, ached to run towards her but you felt anchored to the ground with some unmovable force. 

You watched with horror as Nesta met the same fate as your own, as her hand remained above the surface, pointed at the man in charge in a silent threat. 

In a silent promise. 

The general roared, lunging towards your eldest sister. Only to have his wings shredded in the process. Screams erupted from Feyre and her family. Possibly even you, but the sounds all fused as one and you couldn’t find your own in the mix. Seeing that blood pool from his body had you emptying the contents of your stomach onto the floor. 

When the cauldron was tipped once again, Nesta’s body flowed with it. You sobbed as you pulled her towards your body, feeling an unmatched terror as she lay motionless.

“C’mon, wake up,” You mumbled, slapping her cheeks. 

Moments passed before she sputtered to consciousness. Despite the situation, relief was the only thing you could feel. Relief at her survival. Elain’s. Your own. 

“Hybern you son of a bitch!” Morrigan growled, almost animalistic. 

“What a perfect outcome! Look,” He gestured from the human queens, to you, “Look at this success. The cauldron even possessed the power to cure the shortcomings of this human girl. Rest assured, you will be immortal. Never again to be plagued by the ailments of a mortal body!” 

“You’re psychotic,” You boomed before you realised you were speaking. 

The only reply in which you received was a smile that screamed victorious. Like he was the most cunning male to have walked Prythian. Narrowing your eyes, you challenged him. You knew it was idiotic, but you dared him with your gaze to take you on. To jump into the ring with you. 

Before he had the inkling to respond, blinding white light exploded throughout the room. Frantically, you tried to find the source. Only to see that it was pulsing from Feyre. Raw power flooded your senses. Flooded from your sister into you, filling you with the purest form of love and protection. Like Feyre actively encased you with all the comfort that she hadn’t in the years since she had left. 

When it finally dimmed, she appeared different. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for something. 

“Tamlin?” Her panicked... innocent? voice whimpered. 

Someone then. 

Feyre began a tirade of almost incoherent mumbling about how she had been taken against her will and glamoured this whole time. Confusion rippled down your body, looking from your sister to Tamlin whom looked at Feyre as though she brought the sun and stars to the earth. Looking back at her family, they looked just as bewildered as you felt. It only lasted a second before Morrigan and Azriel were with you. Morrigan clasped both her hands onto you and Nesta, while Azriel lifted Elain. 

And from one moment to the next, you went from being seated on the tiled floor with Nesta to the plush carpet of place you had never been. The scent of Feyre lingered throughout the room, providing you with some comfort. It did not last for long. 

When it dawned upon you that she was not here, you shot to your feet with legs that had the consistency of jelly. You leaned upon Morrigan, and looked at Rhysand with such anger that it sent that whirring in your blood boiling. 

Whispering, for you felt that you could not keep the cap on that boiling sensation if you raised your voice so much as an octave, you said, 

“Where is she?” 

I hope you enjoyed this! Let me know if there are any mistakes! :)

Tag list: @rebs2210 @meritxellao @blueeclipsepaperstudent @fredssweasleys @pricklepearbloom @emptyporche @the-fae-are-taking-over @kuraikei @garbagecryptid98 @weirdo-fun @balam-sen @judig92 @ruler-of-hades @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @kexrtiz @marina468 @edie-readie @baebeepeach @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @percyjacksonspeen @issybee0611

Please let me know if I missed you and some of the tags wouldn’t work so apologies. 

[marmie-noir]

Make Him Proud (And Michael)

(I cannot find season 2 gifs if his haircut and I may very well cry)

Hi all, back on my bullshit it seems. I read through this a gazillion times and decided it's just time to actually start posting the dozen chapters I have prewritten or at least half finished. I missed them sm omfg. Per usual I don't really edit so if you find an error please ignore or lmk if it's a big one, bless.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hissed under my breath, hand slapping around blindly for my phone, palm meeting the hardwood of the desktop a few times before finding it. Mitch had a stormy expression, eyes still dark but no longer from lust, the mood immediately broken and dashing our soft afterglow when I wanted nothing more than to curl up with Mitch on the new couch pushed up against the far wall. So much for that. “Calm down Darlin’, we don’t know-” I gave him a look that had his words fading out. After a moment of staring at one another he sighed, nodding and running a hand through his hair, extending his other one for me to take. I accepted, letting him pull me to a standing position versus seated on the edge of his desk, giving his hand a squeeze. 

“Let’s go do damage control.” I offered softly, knowing Mitch had to be taking this worse than even me. Yes, I’d worked hard for tonight but so had he, and he was closer to Dwight than I was. “C’mon handsome, you’ve got a bar to run.” Mitch didn’t give me the usual half smile I got after calling him handsome, instead he gave another firm nod, squeezed my hand, and led me out of the office once we were cleaned up a little. 

The band was still playing, drinks were still flowing, the smokey atmosphere hadn’t changed much except for the grim expression on the group’s faces. Grace, Bohdie, Goodie, everyone seemed a little unsure what to do now that the General was taken away. I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and plastered on a smile. “Alright, we’ve got a bar to run. Dwight is gonna be pissed if we close down early. C’mon now, all ya’ll, git. Make him proud.” I said, waving my hands at the small huddle of our friends. Goodie seemed surprised, looking at me for a long moment before giving a nod. “She’s right. C’mon, let’s finish up the night.” His thick accent punctuated the order, not leaving to go back to the tables himself just yet. Goodie leaned in, his thick musky cologne stronger than the smoke of the gambling floor, his voice dropping. “Tina isn’t doing so hot, Sunny. Keep an eye on her?” I gave him a tight lipped smile, nodding. “I’ve got her.” I promised. He patted my free hand that had been resting on the bar, muttering something about ‘good woman’ before dipping back towards the tables with Tyson. 

“Sugar, what is going on?” Ann came over, still looking as stunning as she did when we walked into the bar what felt like a hundred years ago. “Fred said something about Dwight?” I gently took her by the arm, stepping away from a few customers with a smile in place. “He got arrested, but we still want the night to go well. Please let me know if anyone is saying anything? I want to keep this under wraps. Everyone has worked so hard…” 

Ann straightened her shoulders, grabbing at my hand with both of hers to give it a squeeze. “You got it, I’ll flirt my little tush off to make this night go well.” She said, looking straight up like a woman on a warpath. I’d never loved her more than in this moment, watching her saunter over to the higher bidder tables and turning on that Southern charm that had men melting in their suede shoes. The next few hours were a blur. My cheeks hurt from all the fake smiling, my laugh sounding a little hollow when I spoke to patrons, thanking them for coming up as I’d become a familiar figure in recent history. I kept an eye on Tina, not hovering but always close by in case she needed something. The best I could think to offer without causing a scene was a stack of thick napkins and a stiff drink, that she downed with a grateful look. 

Finally the last customer walked out for the night and I sighed, hand sliding into my hair. Ann collapsed at the bar, Fred handing her a shot of something clear that she downed without question. All the others gathered over. Armand, Tyson, Grace, Goodie, Mitch, Bohdie, everyone settled around Tina who hadn’t moved much in the last few hours. 

Tyson, ever the ball of anxious energy, was pacing as I finally settled at the table with Bohdie and Mitch. “Aint no way this wasn’t going to happen. Scorpion and the frog my boy, no good deed and all that shit.” Bohdie gave me a look as Tyson continued to ramble. I planted my elbows on the table, hands massaging at my temples as I tried to relax. The last few hours had been tension filled, my shoulders aching from how tight they were. It was going to be a long night even though it was well past midnight already. “How did everyone let this happen?” Tina finally spoke. I tuned everyone out, listening to everyone bicker about what happened, how it happened, none of it mattered in this moment. I was tired, my feet hurt, and I wanted to take a too hot shower before falling into our bed. Mitch pushed himself out of his chair and I lifted my head, confused until I saw Tina was trying to walk out. She had been drinking pretty heavily and wasn’t exactly in a good mental state. “Tina, wait.” I called out, sliding out of my own chair and heading over to her to join Mitch. “Look, I know you are upset. Really, I hear you on that. But we can’t let you make a dumb decision. One of us who haven’t been drinking can drive you home and we can regroup tomorrow once we bail Dwight out. Okay?” She hesitated, as if she wanted to argue, to bite back. Then the fight drained out of her, shoulders slumping, eyes falling to the floor. “Yeah. Yeah alright. Can someone give me a ride back to the hotel?” 

“I will.” Mitch spoke up and I blinked at him before giving a small nod, turning back to Tina to give her a small smile. He had his keys in his pocket, and after pressing a kiss to my hairline and a promise to be back quick they walked out, leaving me with the others. “Does he even have a chance?” Grace finally spoke of the elephant in the room as I sat between her and Ann at the bar, leaning over to grab a bottle of something. They rattled off about if it was going to be federal, bringing up the bikers we blew away, and I didn’t comment as I popped the pour spout off the bottle and tipped the thing back to take a generous drink. Ann snatched it from me to do the same and I cleared my throat, Grace and I exchanging looks. The men argued about how was in charge and all the women rolled their eyes, looking at the back wall behind the bar. “Grace, give me a ride home?” I asked, hopping off the barstool. She sighed but nodded, Ann coming along too. “Night boys. Lock up.” I called back, in no mood to be bossed around by anyone right now, especially Goodie. 

The alarm didn’t wake me like normal, nor the smell of coffee. No soft kisses from Mitch across my collarbone, or the sound of pops yelling at a rerun of last night's game down in the living room. I groaned as the sound of a car door slammed, the open windows not muffling it at all. I sat up, smoothing my hair back from my face, glancing around the room. Mitch had gotten home shortly after I had, sliding into bed and curling against my back, face pressed to my still shower damp hair. He had told me that Tina wasn’t doing well, and he was worried about her, asked if we could keep an eye on her. I had sleepily agreed, eyelids heavy as I was pulled under. Sliding out of the bed I grabbed my robe, pulling it on as I left the bedroom. As I made my way down the stairs the coffee machine was bubbling, just starting it’s cycle as I puttered across the linoleum to look out the windows to the driveway. A huge man was standing there, talking to Mitch, who still had bedhead barely hidden under his hat. “Pops?” I called over my shoulder. There was the clicking of Scruff’s nails on the floor a moment later and a gruff ‘yeah?’ sounded from down the hall to the living room. “Who is in the driveway?” “Michael.” He called back, not offering more detail. Scruff came around the corner then, toddling over to give my ankles a perfunctory sniff before making his way to the food bowl to crunch on some of the high end kibble that made his diet now. I watched the little dog for a few moments, a half smile on my face. Spoiled brat now, getting chubby too. We’d have to look at diet food for him. 

The sound of the screen door creaking had me looking up, the large stranger walking in followed by Mitch.I tilted my chin up, anticipating the kiss of my forehead from Mitch, the familiar brush of his facial hair comforting. “Mornin’ darlin’.” “Morning.” I murmured, pulling back to glance over at the stranger. Mitch made an amused sound, big hand resting on my lower back and gesturing towards the other man with his free one. “This is my cousin, Michael.” He introduced, sounding a fair bit lighter than he had last night. “Michael, this is Sunny.” “Heard a lot about you.” Michael spoke, holding out one of his plate sized hands. I reached out, smiling up at him and shaking his hand. “Good to meet the one who has Mitch acting right.” “Acting right? Mitch, you didn’t act right?” I teased, glancing up at my boyfriend as Michael released my hand. The cowboy looked amused, head tipping down but not commenting. Enough said. “It’s nice to meet you Michael. Are you stopping through on a visit?”

Before he answered Mitch spoke up, fingers rubbing along my lower back. “Michael’s going to be staying with us a bit, figured we could use some more muscle at the bar. Just in case.” I nodded, getting why that could prove useful. Plus, a member of Mitch’s family was someone I could trust a lot easier than some random person Dwight decided to hire on. “Well the spare room should still be made up, I washed the sheets after Ann stayed over a week ago.” I said, giving Michael a smile.

“Oh, I can take the couch, I don’t mind. And, uh, most people call me Bigfoot.”

Quirking a brow I did a quick up and down before giving the large man a look. “I’m not sure you’ll fit on the couch, no offense. And… I will not be calling you that.”

“Now darlin’-”

“Do you want some breakfast?” I interrupted Mitch. Michael brightened up at the mention of food and I knew immediately that as long as I fed him I’d have a friend.   Taglist: @beepage, @itspdameronthings, @queenslandlover-93, @triplefrontierbabe, @nebulastarr For more Sunny and Mitch, click here.

[kayhi808]

Collision

I feel the sweat trickling down between my shoulder blades, as the sun beats down on me as I round the bend by the reservoir. I concentrate on the rhythm of my shoes hitting the path & not how fast my heart is beating. Just let me get through this final lap & I'll head home. This summer has got to be one of the hottest I've spent in the city. I never get tired of the beauty of Central Park. The people enjoy the little bit of nature that they can, in this crazy city. The families enjoying picnics in the park. The dog walkers with their army of canines.

Of course, my day must be ruined by the meatheads playing football near the jog path. I'm thrown forward by the force of whoever plowed into me. The hit alone left me breathless; it doubled as I hit the ground trying to break my fall with my hands. The sting of my palms scraping against the ground made me collapse completely, hitting my chin.

"Oh, shit!"

"Fuck, I'm so sorry!"

I roll over, throwing my arm across my eyes to block the sun & to hide the tears that are already falling from the 2 idiots above me .

"Sweetheart, don't move." A third voice joins in to witness my humiliation. Feeling a gentle hand on my shoulder, which only makes me want to cry harder. His deep calming voice makes me take a deep breath, trying to get myself under control.

Muttering a soft, "Assholes" I move my arm & stare up at the hottest guy I've ever seen. Dark windblown hair, brows furrowed with concern, pouty lips turned down in a frown. Fuck my life. Sitting up, I flinch at the sting from my hands.

"Easy," his arm wraps around me helping me ease up. I assess the damage. My palms and arms are bloody & dirty but I'm able to move my fingers & wrists, nothing broken.

A woman with her daughter runs up to the semi-circle of stupid men surrounding me. "Frank! What did you guys do?" She shoves one of the meaner looking guys out of the way. I'm amazed at how the others all back out of her way. "Aw, Honey!" She gently takes my wrists in her hands & tilts my head up to look at the scratch on my chin; her daughter starts pulling grass & twigs out of my hair. Great! My eyes dart quickly to the handsome guy, and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"We can take you to emergency. I'll take care of the expense," Bill offers.

"I...I'm fine. I don't need to see a doctor. Nothing's broken. I'm scratched up is all."

"We have a first-aid kit, let us get you cleaned up, at least," she gives me a gentle smile. "I'm Maria. My daughter, Lisa." Lisa gently pats my head as she continues to pull grass & leaves out of my hair. "That's Billy."

I give them my name & Billy squeezes my elbows as he lifts me to my feet. "We're really sorry about this."

*****

She called us assholes. I want to smile at that, but we really did a number on her. She's banged up but she could have seriously been hurt. I walk her over to our picnic area and sit her at the picnic table.

Maria is in mama bear mode grabbing the first aid kit & getting her some water. Curtis makes his way over to us and I whisper down to her, "This is Curtis, he was a medic, so he'll be able to fix you right up." She gives me a shy smile. "Hey man, we had a football accident. Could you give us a hand?"

"Jesus, Bill. You could have simply asked the girl out, you didn't need to tackle her."

*****

Knowing it was the other 2 guys that knocked me down, I'm surprised with Bill's reply. "She was running too fast. I couldn't let her to get away."

Curtis cleans up my chin, which didn't hurt too badly. I watch him frown as he examines my hands. He shakes his head, "This is going to sting, but it really needs to be cleaned." I cringe inside, but I know, so I nod in understanding. Bill straddles the bench behind me, angling so I face Curtis & pulls me back against him. He rubs his palms from my shoulder to elbows trying to soothe me. Yet I still hiss & jerk my arm back, elbowing Billy in the ribs.

"I'm so sorry! I'm..." Turning to look up at Billy.

"It's ok. I know it hurts."

Now that I knew what to expect, I let Curtis clean & bandage me up without pulling away. I made it through with a soft chant of "shitshitshithshit." I relax back against Billy once my hands are bandaged and his velvety voice is in my ear, "You did so well, sweetheart."

I softly gasp & break into goose bumps at his whispered praise. I hear his chuckle as he rubs my arms warming my skin to make the bumps disappear. I quickly stand to move to Curtis, "Th...thank you so much for tending to me."

"You're welcome. Keep it clean & keep an eye out for infection. If it gets red or warm to the touch, see your doctor." You nod again.

"How were you getting home?" Bill follows me.

"I'll just walk home. I usually use it as a cool-down."

Bill's shaking his head before I can finish my sentence. "Let me drive you home."

"I don't know you. You told Curtis you knocked me over so I couldn't escape you. No thank you." Bill let out a laugh that makes me smile. "Seriously, I'll be fine."

"You can't even use your hands. Look, here's my card." Bill fishes out his wallet & gives you his business card. "I have a car service. I can have a driver take you home, and you have all my info there, you can send it to your...boyfriend?" Narrowing my eyes at him which only makes him smile bigger.

"Friends."

"Or friends. Family. Whoever. You'll be safe."

Eventually, I give in because I really don't want to make that trek home. My adrenaline is waning & my muscles start to ache.

He calls his service and waits with me until a car pulls up and he settles me in the backseat & closes the door. He gives me a short wave & returns to his friends as the car pulls away from the curb. I give the driver my address and settle into the soft leather seats. I pull out his card; Bill Russo, Owner & CEO of ANVIL. Thick cardstock. Expensive. Impressive.

@imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @e-dubbc11

[helpinghanikan]

Best kind of revenge

Sum: The best kind of revenge is to treat your enemy's ex-wife right.

Features: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" McTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Rudolfo Parra.

Ch.2 Scar the neighbors

Ch.3 Abrupt ending

Ch. 1: The handsome man at the bar

The team of four tried to be subtle when making their way into the bar. Ghost went in first, taking over a table in the corner. Alejandro and Rudy followed shortly after, one on either side of the bar. Soap was the last to come in, hanging out by the door just incase you tried to make an exit without their permission.

They’re all dressed like civilians. A lot of jeans and sweaters. If it weren’t for their accents and good looks they would have fit in with the blue-collar crowd. The only outlier would have been Ghost, who was probably grateful for the cold weather outside. It was helped explain away the black mask covering half of his face.

Someone has probably been on your tail for the last month. Ever since you got that email from Laswell explaining all of your ex-husbands crimes.

“How are you doing over here?” The bartender asks, a younger woman whose been your best friend these last few weeks.

Your drink was nearing its end but getting actually drunk wouldn’t be a good idea tonight.

“I’m still nursing, thanks though.” You say, looking back over to the mohawk at the bar’s end.

Philip Graves was never the greatest partner, but he was a good guy. At least you thought he was during your relationship. But body cam of killing civilians is never a good look.

A glass is set down in front of you.

“No, I’m good.” You repeat to the bartender.

“It’s not from me, honey.” She says, nodding towards the crowd behind you.

Graves had left quite a bit of stuff at the house. Among those were personnel files of almost every solider he’s ever spoken to on a laptop you definitely didn’t have the password to. This was how you knew the six men following you. Among these six was Colonel Alejandro Vargas. A.K.A the handsome man at the far end of the bar staring right at you.

Might as well play along. Raising the glass towards him in thanks and taking a sip. It’s a fruity little drink. The kind that girls who can’t shoot whiskey order. It’s absolutely delicious.

“He just told me the ingredients and I made it for him.” The bartender explains when you mention how good it was.

“So a man I don’t know asked to make me a drink with random ingredients and you just did?” You ask incredulous. Although it didn’t stop you from taking some more sips.

The bartender shrugged. “I honestly wanted to see what would come out of it. Sorry about that.”

Great, you’re one ally in here is either against you or just an idiot.

Aside for the six men and one bartender there were five other patrons here. None of them you really knew aside for a head nod. This bar was too close to the highway to be a regular watering hole. It was one of the reasons that you always chose to come here.

You don’t need to look to know that someone has taken a seat on your left.

“I see you enjoyed the drink,” came an accented voice to your left.

It seems Alejandro was a very confident man. You have to be to make it far in any military. But you couldn’t just be confident to get what you want while in the field. You also have to be smart. And when you’re in the field on an unsanctioned ‘mission’? Well, you’re going to have to be very smart.

“I did,” You replied, “Honestly it seemed a bit much to buy a girl you don’t know. Tequila is usually the first choice.”

Alejandro chuckles at that, it almost sounds genuine. Casually, as if he’s been coming here his entire life, he gestures for the bartender. Asking for a beer that the bartender was quick to come back with. Giving you a look as if to say; “get it, girl.”

“No, tequila would be too cheap for a woman like you.” Alejandro says, taking the beer for a long drink.

The bar’s lightening hasn’t been updated since the nineties. Covered with dust and bulbs that went out of stock before you graduated high school. And yet, Alejandro looked absolutely stunning under it.

With his head tilted back slightly you can see the outline of his jaw. How most of his face is hidden by a thin layer of shadow, but that does nothing to dull the effect his smile has on everyone in the room. He smiles like a fox. A predator that doesn’t just want to eat you, he wants to devour you and taste the screams he can force you to make.

“You deserve something better,” Alejandro adds, setting down his beer for emphasis.

When was the last time you were with someone? It’s been at least a few months, maybe half a year already. The last time you got bent was with Graves, and that was hurried in an airport bathroom because he plane leaving soon. Did you even cum then? Not likely, but Graves certainly did.

“Are you married?” You ask, looking at drink you had finished a minute ago.

You can see Alejandro raise an eyebrow when you ask this.

“No, not married.” He says.

“I’m not either,” You reply standing up and taking his hand. “So, there’s no point in holding back.”

-

This wasn’t the kind of bar that you hook up in. It’s a one stall bathroom that you couldn’t imagine getting on your knees in. Not that it was completely filthy but because the walls were thin as paper. Being able to hear everything that happens makes it a pretty awkward spot, it also made it perfect to declare to the world that you were now free of Graves.

Leading him by the hand Alejandro followed you into the bathroom. His mouth on yours when the door was fully shut. The wood straining against your combined weight when he pressed into you.

He kisses with his teeth. Biting onto your bottom lip; starting roughly, almost drawing blood, before going slower. Kissing you gently as quickly as he pulled you to his body.

“Fuck, you’re good.” He mumbles, letting his tongue explore into your mouth.

“Thank you. More.” You demand, wanting tongue not dialogue.

His hands are hot, almost boiling, as they slide down the back of your pants. Skipping the bases and going straight to cupping your bare ass. His dull nails digging into the soft cheeks, almost painfully. But you aren’t stopping him.

It’s still hard to say whether Alejandro knows you know who he is. It’s confusing, but you shouldn’t even know his name. He didn’t give it to you before being pulled into the bathroom. At the same time you didn’t give your name either. You were two strangers who knew eachother, fucking before deciding if you’ll survive the night.

Like a dance Alejandro walks you backwards. Gently stepping with his hips doing most of the guiding. Pressing his crotch into yours until the bathroom wall is against your back.

“I’m going to taste you, okay? Is that okay?” He pulls away to ask.

His eyes, already brown and beautiful, are dilated from excitement. They’re still staring at your lips, waiting for your answer.

“Yeah, but you don’t-if you don’t want to you don’t have to.” You say, that need to please stronger than the urge to take.

Alejandro gives you the predators smile. He might have given you the illusion of control, but it would always be his mouth on your throat. He proves this now, kissing and dragging his teeth over the pulse point of your throat. It draws out a moan, but it’s mainly a distraction. A way for Alejandro to sneakily open the front of your pants without making a show about it.

“Oh, but I want to.” Alejandro whispers, his warmth leaving as he kneels down at your feet.

Cold air instantly creates goosebumps on your thighs. Alejandro pulling your pants down to your ankles. Getting your right boot off without a second thought. Doing so quickly to free only one of your legs from the pants. He only need one, just one to lift over his shoulder and allow his access to your pussy.

“Oh, fuck.” You whisper, hands in dark hair.

“That’s good, but that’s just a start.” Alejandro says, and it’s impossible to tell if it’s supposed to be a warning or a promise.

There’s no warmup, there’s no teasing. The only foreplay you get is the moving of your underwear. Sliding it over to make room for his tongue.

It’s a powerful touch, one that sends a feeling through your body like a gun shot. It’s more surprising than pleasurable. The wall meets your head when throwing it back, groaning out in appreciation and also wanting something more than just surprise touches.

Your leg is moved up over his shoulder, your heel digging into his back.

From your entrance to the clit Alejandro licks his way through your body. He does so slowly, flattening his tongue as he goes back and forth.

The initial build in your body takes a few seconds. Again, it’s been a minute since you’ve gotten someone to down on you. That Alejandro did so without hesitation, even bringing up the idea, made this so much better. It makes you desirable, needed, a precious person that Alejandro didn’t want to share with anyone.

His hot breath on your lips, his hand on your thigh, tongue sliding in built in your gut. Warmth and electricity grow from your clit, through your stomach, and against your breasts. It’s moving so quickly that your brain has probably been affected by the pleasure that runs through your body.

“Okay, okay, yeah. Oh please!” You started to beg, rolling your hips with his licking.

His fingers slide through the spit and wetness. Two digits penetrating you with solid pressure that keeps a steady pace back and forth. He moans at the tight feeling, making sure you knew just how much he appreciates the feeling.

“Alejandro, fuck!” You call out, wanting the entire world to know who was doing this.

You don’t feel the bit of hesitation when Alejandro hears his name. Mainly out of confusion (fake identities were decided in the car) but also out of almost panic. He didn’t know much about the ex-wife of Philip Graves, only that you were key to revenge.

And what better revenge than making your enemies wife cum hard?

Your head practically bangs against the wall. Pleasure taking complete control in a feeling that can only be described as cold. It tightens in your gut, it presses your breasts, fogs your brain, and forces your mouth to call out for a god you might not even believe in.

He doesn’t stop when you start crying out. Keeping with the rhythm that started the orgasm and adding a squeeze to your thigh. His non-verbal way of saying “make the world hear, baby. Be so loud that Graves will hear your orgasm from hell.”

Eventually the orgasm has to leave. When it does your drained, wobbly, almost forgetting where you were and who you were with. Only looking down at Alejandro’s (wet) face reminded you of the mistake you had just made.

“How’d you know my name?” He asks, a smile on his face as if he was the one on top.

There is an illusion of confidence you’ve been using since learning the truth about Graves. It’s carried you through the divorce, the secrets, and everything else that has come your way. But looking down at Alejandro, being given the best tongue in your life, it made that illusion dissolve.

“Because of Graves. I know all your names.” You explain. “I know that’s why you’re here.”

[brimleysbears]

(Featured media: Burl Ives - from The Spiral Road, 1962)

"Fan" fiction erotica - "Hollywood Confessions: My Date With Big Daddy"

Post 2 of 4

Part II:

The Human Clipboard and the Night Visitors

As he was lying down in the middle of that king-sized bed, I was lounging next to him. That’s when I served up a few glasses of water and set them next to the bed. As I looked down, I noticed he had made a ‘tent’ for himself under his great belly. “Oh dear, well would you just look at that,” he signed, “The General is standing at attention once again! Do you mind?”, he then asked as I nodded, although not sure exactly what I was nodding about – that’s when he reached under my skirt and proceeded to remove my panties. His fingers made their way up my legs until he gently reached up there.

“Ahh,” he signed, “just like the girls back home. No need to remove what God gave you. After all, who ever heard of a beaver without fur?”

I had been with a lot of men up until that point, even some older men, but nobody as chatty as Mr. Ives. In fact, I wondered if he was ever going to stop talking, although he did become speechless more than once that night. Another thing was how wooly that man really was in person. All over his shoulders, back, underarms, and just about everywhere – he was like some kind of beast, although not what most girls would consider ‘handsome’, he excited me much to my surprise, in fact so much, that it didn’t take much to get me moist enough to want him inside of me that instant. That is when I slowly pulled the covers down to reveal his hairy patch poking out generously through the V-neck of his white sleeveless undershirt. Pulling the covers further down revealing his big round belly, which his shirt had pulled up slightly revealing a tuft of hair under his belly button. That’s when his hands stopped me and pulled me by the hips, and he gestured me to sit on his lap. Having not given a chance to even see his naked lap, I obeyed and climbed on top of him, resting my skirt over his tummy.

Just then, I could feel his stiff bulge under me as I shifted my weight back and forth a few inches. That’s soon after he finished pulling the covers down, as if he didn’t want me to see him completely naked, at least at that point. As I sat on his lap, he just laid there and smiled as his breathing was getting heavier with each breath. Up until then he was talking, almost nonstop, but at this point, he would just whisper, “that’s a good girl… just take it easy… sit on Big Daddy’s lap… almost there… take your time…” That’s about the time I was sitting on his erection which was then pressed flat and pointed towards his belly. I rocked slowly as I could feel his shaft massage up and down my opening that proceeded to cause it to be even more wet with every thrust. Not too long after teasing the fat man was when, somewhat intuitively, he fully entered me. That’s when he got loud. Very loud in fact. So much so, I assumed he was blowing his load up in me right away, so instinctively I tried to thrust quickly as to enhance his perceived orgasm, however he just grabbed my hips firmly beckoning me to move slower, staring at me intently.

That’s about the time when I was startled! Someone was at the door! In fact, nobody knocked, they just barged in. I panicked hoping it wasn’t the press and when I tried to unmount the old beast, he gripped me even firmer, looking at me as if he was completely oblivious to those intruders. I couldn’t even look behind me to see what was going on. Did they have guns? Cameras? Luckily, I was still wearing my top and my skirt was covering most of us, including his shirt, and the fact that his legs were still under the bed covers. It was as if we could have been doing something other than sex and no way to prove otherwise. A million thoughts raced through my mind as Burl asked me to stay exactly where I was, and he immediately greeted the rude guests.

“I assume you still need my John Henry for the useless paperwork with those useless concessions, well you might as well get over here and get it done with!” Mr. Ives exclaimed through his teeth while he addressed me, “please give me a moment while I work, and be a dear and light my cigar”, and motioned over to the man’s younger assistant who was producing a form and an ink pen along with his cigar and something to light it with. “My glasses too!”, he barked as I placed the fat cigar into his mouth. As I was handed a lighter by the assistant, I lit his cigar while he read a sheet of paper which didn’t take much time. Meanwhile, his erection was still almost solid, and about as far up inside me as it possibly could be, and although I tried to stay still, the occasional slight movements would cause his dick to shift in my hole, causing him to get excited however, like any good actor, pretending to not enjoy any of that, but subtly effecting his breathing and he would make a kind of snorting sound every time he would get excited.

The two men, bewildered at whether Mr. Ives was actually having full blown sexual intercourse, continued and also pretended that everything was normal, although I knew from my experience with professional entertainers that things like this were actually quite common. Something that I did not expect is when he started mumbling through his smoky cigar, “would you be a dear and shift back ever so slightly – I need a good firm surface to write on. That’s when he pulled up my blouse, revealing my belly button and the undersection of my bra, he then placed the piece of paper just under my breasts as he held the pen, trying to sign the form. At that time, the businessman politely asked his assistant to hold the blouse up as to not hinder Mr. Ives trying to use the ‘nice lady’s front side as a surface’. That’s because at that point, I was trying to hold up my body with my hands placed on the fat man’s knees behind me. As I rested back a little further, trying desperately to get comfortable (and nobody is ever comfortable trying to be a ‘human clipboard’ while men in suits are breathing down my neck while at the same time, trying to remain having sex with a rather obese old singer.

That’s about the time that Burl said, while clenching the lit cigar between his teeth, “you know dear if you move back any further, The General is going to slide out of his little cockpit, and you don’t want to make The General upset now do you?” That’s when the businessman and his assistant became very wide eyed and embarrassed and were clamoring to leave that that point.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen, you haven’t spoiled our fireworks, in fact we were just now getting acquainted with each other when you arrived. We have yet to get that far as the night is still young…”, the horny old bull continued to speak as he removed the cigar from his mouth, quickly finishing writing his signature, “now scat you two! Don’t you see I have more important business to attend to! Don’t forget to turn out the light and lock the door behind you, we would be displeased to have more coitus interruptus.”

As the men left, the room was now lit by one of the lamps sitting on the nightstand. I could make out his face through the smoke as his angry stare softened suddenly as he looked me in the eyes, smiling with joy as he chuckled and politely said, “sorry about that, now be a good girl and carry on will you, things were just beginning to disappoint us down there, let’s see if you can get The General back to work my dear?”

I gladly rode his half-hard cock as it soon fully stiffened up again, causing the fat man to moan as he handed me his cigar. I tossed it in the ash tray next to me carefully while remaining on top of him, much to the surprise of both of us. By this time, he was removing my top, and my bra, revealing my breasts which felt fully aroused even before he touched my nipples. The more I rode up and down, then slightly forward and back, I could hear his breathing harden, especially the more naked I became.

It’s true what they say about that iconic twinkle in his eye. Remembering his impeccable charm while on the movie sets with him over the years, the way he is with women, the way he was with me that night, I never imagined I would enjoy a man so old and so large as he is. It was marvelous, although at times obnoxious. Sometimes, even while he was penetrating me, he’d talk about other sexual experiences he had, even some unusual things growing up in farm country and when he was a traveling hobo, but I have to admit, it was all part of his charm, and I was hooked. I hoped the night would never and, and at that moment as my mind wandered, he pulled my hips again as he entered me deeper still. Letting out a sigh of relief, he lifted me up as I laid down next to him. That’s when I saw it for the first time. Foreskin covering the tip of his hard-moistened-shaft, surrounded by long brown and gray hairs nearly covering everything below his beltline to his husky legs. There was a clear bead of liquid resting on top nearly dripping down. His testicles were somewhat large but couldn’t tell because they must have been pulled up a bit because of his stiff erection. I have definitely seen bigger dicks over the years but could not remember if at that point had I seen a stumpier boner, although in retrospect, it was over average sized when I later pressed around his surrounding padding. It’s just when I saw it in the dim light it looked like the most stumpy member I had ever seen on a man, and the more I looked at it, the more I found it erotic; maybe because it was so different – or that it resembled something that you would see on an animal.

Thinking back to that unusual night, I had to wonder why he didn’t want me to see him naked until we were having sex. Perhaps I would have been more excited to, at first, feel that thick dick inside me, surprised at it, because I might have anticipated something unfulfilling if I had seen it ahead of time? Perhaps some women had run away believing there’d be no pleasure for her? That would be sad. He gave me immense pleasure, and I simply couldn’t wait to have it inside me again! Just at that thought, I felt his big warm hands gently push me back where my head was resting on a pillow. He finally removed the rest of the clothes I was wearing, my leggings, skirt, and now totally naked although the bear himself was still wearing his white undershirt and black socks, he had something else on his mind. For a moment he was on top of me, and just when I was longing to have him back inside of me, he giggled and started giving me kisses all the way down, starting from my lips, all the way downtown, so to speak.

Feeling is wide tongue inside me was more than I could bear. I was already aroused; I could have cum while he was riding me. But the more I felt his little beard tickle my fuzzy patch, his tongue knew exactly where to go, and within minutes, fireworks were exploding. Just when I thought I was as wet as I could get, I became somewhat embarrassed at not only the mess I made, but the sounds I made. Just then, as my legs were out of control, nearly strangling the old man, he released himself from my grip as he removed his shirt, panting and in utter expectation. Suddenly, he was all the way on top of me, face to face, and smothering me with kisses as he began to make a few strange grunts like some kind of hungry animal. That’s when he entered me again. I didn’t realize he was still erect. Eating me must have kept him turned on. I gasped, having not fully recovered from that mass orgasm, he pounded my pussy and enveloped me with nearly the full force of his massive weight. His girth completely covering me, dripping his sweat on me, thrusting, but not very rhythmically, but almost sloppy and out of control. Sometimes missing my vagina, sometimes hitting close by, his rock hard dick nearly bruising other parts of my body as he poked around, in and out, thrusting between my legs, then back in; sometimes just teasing me with the tip, and then thrusting himself in as far as he could go although his massive bulk made it impossible to fully penetrate me the way he did while I was on top, the experience was so erotic, I was speechless. I lifted my legs further as he mounted me even deeper then propped himself up a little higher. He remarked more than once about how much he liked it sloppy wet like that.

Then he fell back on me like before. That’s about the time he started talking once again: “you realize that if you can no longer breathe, you can dial ‘0’ for the front desk and they can send several men to remove me.” But at that time, I wasn’t even listening to his constant joking, although quite funny in retrospect, all I could do was moan and gasp for air. I didn’t care if he smothered me half to death, I was in such a state of bliss. He rode me faster and faster, this time, once again, not saying a word. Panting like a dog, and grunting again, I wondered if this was going to be him finally finishing up in me. Then he kissed me on the lips again and offered me a cigarette. Burl, then giddy like a schoolboy, reached into my purse, and proceeded to light a cigarette in my mouth as he lit his cigar again. He lied back next to me, dripping with sweat, his hair wildly out of place, as he let out a sigh. I looked down as he shifted, his stumpy boner bounced around like a jack-in-the-box, it was so cute. I rested my head on his thick hairy arm and could have drifted off into dreamland when he began to talk again.

“Glad you got your fireworks,” he whispered romantically as he continued to puff on his cigar.

I replied, “glad you got yours too”.

He just chuckled, “I suppose I’ve been teasing you more than you realize… But I must say, you’ve sure made an old man happy… hey, want to make an old man even happier?”

Continued in Part 3, link:

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743868840199536640/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

[hylias-library]

Part 2 featuring: Sky, Warriors and Legend

[Navigation] [The Chain Masterlist]

[Part 1] [Part 3]

Sky

As a traveling merchant and tailor, you didn’t have it easy with all the monsters lurking around. So resting like this underneath a tree was an opportunity you had to take whenever you could. But given that you just arrived at a village, the stars surely were in your favor.

You were situated just outside the villages gates, as your gaze stuck to a large group of men clustering around one singular tree a little further away.

Taking a better look at said tree, you could make out its branches moving around. Soon after, another man with long hair fell out, making you flinch.

That fall looked like it hurt.

You heard the group laugh, but one in particular didn't look pleased when he got handed a piece of fabric the tree climber held out.

He had brownish blonde hair, wore a green tunic, and had a red piece of cloth decorated with white embroidery wrapped around his waist.

Some of his companions clapped him on the shoulder in what seemed to be pity.

Soon enough, the group kept moving towards the village you sat in front of, talking casually.

"Man, I can't believe I ripped it. It means so much to him." The long-haired one said.

"It wasn't your fault Wild. It was stuck badly. At least you got it out." Another one said. He had interesting tattoos on his face, a blue cloth wrapped around his waist.

You watched them as they passed you, the young man holding the piece of fabric having fallen back a little, holding onto it tightly.

Now you could see it was some sort of a cape with beautiful blue markings. And sadly, it was torn. Judging by the look on the mans face, it really must mean a lot to him.

As he passed you too, you hesitantly called out to him.

"Uhm... excuse me?"

He flinched a little before his gaze zeroed in on you. "Yes?"

You smiled a little, fidgeting with the seam if your shirt before pointing to his cape.

"I could fix that."

He looked at you owlishly. Oh no, you must seem like a creep having listened in on them.

But soon, a smile that rivaled the sun spread across his features, as he speed walked over to you, grabbing your hands into his.

"REALLY?!"

His joyful outbreak got the attention of his party. Heads turned and curiously watched the scene before them.

"Sure! I'm a traveling tailor. It should be fairly easy to fix. But you'd have to wait to keep traveling until I'm finished."

His hopefully gaze went over to what seemed to be the leader of the party, who gave a warm smile and a nod.

A tight squeeze brought your attention back to the man in front of you.

"I think that won't be a problem. Thank you so much." He smiled that beautiful smile again.

"My name is Link."

You took the cloth from his hand and smiled back.

"Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n)."

Warriors

It was crowded around the market, as always. But you had to get new supplies to keep traveling. You had almost run out of food, so spending rupees it was.

You weren’t fond of the merchants, though. They always tried to rip you off to get more rupees that the wares were actually worth.

Waving your hands around to get your point across, you finally gave up at 30 rupees for a few slices of meat. You were too aggravated to keep discussing, or you'd do something you'd regret later on.

Leaving the market stall with a sour mood, you settled for just looking around. Maybe sell one or two items you had in your inventory.

Your eyes wandered over the crowd, lost in thought until you felt a hand on your lower back. And before you could do anything against them, your reflexes let you whip around. A loud slapping noise following your actions.

Completely shell-shocked, you stared into the eyes of a handsome stranger with the bluest eyes you had ever seen and a scarf matching their color.

He looked as shocked as you felt, rubbing his cheek, the one you just slapped full force in pain. There were a few others behind him, his friends you supposed, since all of them started wheezing on the spot.

"You seriously gotta work on your flirting skills, Warriors."

'Warriors' proceeded to grumble. "I was just trying to get around."

That's what brought you out of your trance for good.

"By the Goddesses,I'm so sorry! I moved without thinking!" You stretched out your hand in concern, letting it freeze halfway. "Are you ok?"

The young man hesitated for a split second. "Yes. I'm fine. You don't need to apologize." He was already starting to leave before you quickly grabbed his wrist. His friends snickering in the background.

"Let me at least treat you to a meal. I insist."

Warriors heavily breathed out of his nose, but soon, a smile came to his lips.

"Alright. If you insist, how can I refuse this offer."

Legend

The night already settled in when you finally arrived at the stable, and you thanked the Goddesses above, that the campfire outside was still burning. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and your stomach made sure to get the point across.

Sitting down in front of the fireplace, you fisched out a pan and started to make a late dinner.

At least you tried, if it wasn't for this annoying as hell jar that didn't want to open up, regardless of how hard you tried.

A heavy and tired sigh left your lips. This night couldn't get any worse. Staring at your half cooked dinner in resignation, you noticed movement from the stable behind you.

A young man in a red tunic leaned at one of the entrance archways, watching the moon in deep thought.

Biting your lower lip, you thought about your options. Have bland food, or ask for help. You decided to go for the latter and quietly got up.

"Excuse me?" You whispered carefully, but it still seemed to startle him when his gaze locked onto your form.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you this late, but I can't get this stupid jar to open, and I haven't eaten all day."

A blush spread over your cheeks, speaking it out loud made the situation sound so ridiculous. "C-could you maybe..."

A quiet snort left his lips as he grabbed the jar and opened it in one swift move, handing it back to you.

Your eyes lit up with pure joy when your hands wrap around the jar. Gleefully smiling at the nice stranger.

"Thank you SO much!" You whisper-yelled before looking over your shoulder to check on the food. "What’s the name of my savior?"

He hesitated for a bit. "Link."

"It's nice to meet you, Link. I'm (Y/n). I'll make sure to show my appreciation for your help."

He waved you off with a scrunch of his nose before he turned back towards the stables entrance. "Don't bother. I'll head to bed now."

And before you could answer, he was gone.

With a shrug, you tended to your meal, carefully bottling some of it for preservation.

The next morning, you were delighted to find that Link hadn't left the stable yet.

Bouncing over to him, under the raised brows of what were probably his companions, you wished him a good morning and started to rummage through your bags.

"Here!" You shoved a small bottle of soup into his hands. The one he helped you with yesterday. His friends were already watching him with amusement, as the tips of his ears turned a light shade of pink.

"A thank you for your help last night."

[zapreportsblog]

Writing Prompts

1. Ignorance is a disease so back up asshole, I ain’t trying to catch your germs

2. “Look around, what do you see? Nothing? Yeah, cause that’s how many fucks were given!”

3. “Your hot temper makes for a great heater.”

4. “You’re the cum drop your mother should’ve swallowed.”

5. “Don’t speak please, you’re lowering this whole neighborhoods IQ.”

6. “I’m in shock, see I’m wearing a blanket.”

7. “Fallings just like falling expect with a more permanent destination in mind.”

8. “Super weird.”

9. “Bitch don’t kill my vibe.”

10. “Flex tape, stronger then your relationship.”

11. “Bippity Boppity back the fuck up.”

12. “If I had a dollar for every time I was called ugly I’d be broke cause bitch, I’m gorgeous.”

13. “You think you got problems with me, but baby I don’t even think about you. You mad at everything I do, but what are you up to I haven’t a clue. Cause baby you’re dead to me, how can I be dead to you? You’re looking way too obsessed.”

14. “Leave me alone you little fucker.”

15. “God this is so fucked up.”

16. “Older shits teach littler shits shit the elder shits should’ve taught them.”

17. “When we get in here don’t touch shit, don’t look at shit, don’t ask for shit, because we ain’t getting it.”

18. “Be careful who you call a child because you know what that makes you? A pedophile! And I’ll be damned if I sit here and be lectured by a pervert!”

19. “Bold of you to assume I even think.”

20. “I will destroy you on this court yard, I will ruin all that you love, slaughter your hopes and your dreams. I will rip you limb from limb and stand over your fallen corpse, and once that is all over I will laugh at your misery. I will be your demise!”

21. “You guys are pros right? Then why does it feel like I’m going against toddlers that barley knows how to walk right?!”

22. “Thanks, it’s the trauma.”

23. “You better not disrespect me because who you gonna send to check me?”

24. “After all these hands are rated E for everybody!”

25. “Speak for yourself. At least I don’t have more conversations with the memorial statue then with actually people.”

26. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

27. “I’m not really a murderer but when I play GTA 5; I turn into Jeffery Dahmer.”

28. “Being jealous is a disease, get well soon bitch.”

29. “ I know I’m handsome but having you stare at me is kind of a turn off.”

30. “No matter what it is, I always get what I want.”

31. “Cause I was born with this pretty face, so of course only pretty things can be worn by me.”

32. “ If I wanted to kill myself I will climb up your ego and jump to your IQ level.”

33. “Would you let me make a dildo of your penis?”

34. “Ya know, talk shit get hit?”

35. “Why is big birds emo son talking to me?”

36. “You know I really like confident women .”

37. “And I like men in my age group.”

38. “Run and I’ll break your legs. Attack and I’ll break your necks.”

39. “Listen there isn’t a single language on earth that has a word for how little I care. A super computer that calculates for a thousand years cannot even approach the number of fucks I do not give.”

40. “Once I find them I’ll peel their skin from off their muscles and feed it to the creatures of the forest, watching as they drink their blood like holy wine.”

41. “So let me tell you one last time so we're clear

42. You don't want to take the path you took to get here. If you pop that lip I will rock your shit. Stop playing with the fire, you are not that lit On monday you can get it! On tuesday you can get it! On wednesday you can get it! What about thursday? You can get it! On friday you can get it! On saturday you can get it! How about sunday? You can get it! And every single day you can get it.”

43. “ It’s heretopaternal superfecundation, mom had a threesome and got two mistakes instead of one.”

44. “As long as my fucks to care are flying around and no one catching them it’ll continue to be that way, no fucks given.”

45. “You must be into some kinky shit if you put your honored guest into chains and cuffs.”

46. “Mate, I’ll fucking spin your jaw.”

47. “It’s the borderline incest for me beloved.”

48. “Mhmm now apologize you fuckin goofy.”

49. “Now remember what I told you, walk straight even if you’re gay.”

50. “I can’t talk right now, I’m doing bad bitch shit.”

51. “If I hated any of you then I would’ve either killed you all off one by one or just left.”

52. “Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable? Like a coma.”

53. “I was not born with enough middle fingers.”

54. “My depression is vicious, but this ass is delicious. Dinner is served bitch.”

55. “You wanna talk about the seatbelt rule! How about we talk about the shut the fuck up rule!”

56. “ Hippity hoppity your grave is on my property.”

57. “You speak to your mother with that mouth?”

58. “ No, but I suck your father’s off with it.”

59. “I’m sick you assholes. Baby me!”

60. “Your first orgy! I approve. Especially the tall one. He'd make an excellent consort."

61. “What did I tell you about speaking of orgies so freely in front of mortals? It's weird. Especially since you're my dad. You're not supposed to approve of these things."

62. “Ding dong the witch is dead."

63. "This drink is my weakness and she knows it. Bitch."

64. “Because they're never gonna see that coming." You say, matter of factly. "They pull back the curtain like re-re and you're like re-re yourself, motherfucker!"

65. “And then you stab them in the eye. You thought the psycho was out there? Surprise! The psycho's in here with the Olay body wash on her."

66. “Oh shit, he's trying to say something. Quick get the Speak-n-Spell!"

67. “The total number of fucks I give are equal to the number of living relatives Sasuke has.”

68. “Haven't you seen my halo, darling? I'm an angel." 

69. “ Can I call you a waste of time? Because that’s what you feel like to me.”

70. “He looks like my depression in human form.”

71. “He looks like he could be my sleep paralysis demon.”

72. “If depression and anxiety had a child he would be that child.”

73. “Oh you shouldn’t talk so big it makes your height look bad.”

74. “Sucking the life out of you guys like depression on a Tuesday.”

75. “I’m lazy not stupid.”

76. “I can't be sad. It is a state of mind which is simply not accessible to me. But this doesn't mean that i am happy all the time because this emotion is suppressed, barely there. Mostly i am in a state of...resignation. Calmness. No matter what situation. I do feel getting touched. But i don't feel pain. At all. So none.”

77. “You could basically rip my eyes out and i would only feel a slight movement and a soft touch. I don't feel exhaustion. I don't feel hunger. Sometimes i forget to breathe. I mean...my body still does that automatically but...meditating can get pretty dangerous for me.”

78. “Think of it that way. Everything around us, is god. The cells. The air. Atomic bonds. Life itself. The movement of the leaves in the wind and the smell of the coffee in front of you. It is around us. In us. Something. Call it molecules. Call it Allah. Call it God. Call it Science. Gravity is god. Carbon dioxide is god. You. Are a tiny bit of god. God is just a word. Something, a word, a thought to share. A reason to life. Live itself. You don't have to be a Jew a Muslim a Buddhist a Christian or an Atheist to know, that the world around you exists. Maybe there is a Plan. Maybe there is a spiritus sancti. Maybe, there is a soul and maybe there isn't. We do not know. But we know of our world. We know of us. Maybe the cells in our body's weren't meant to mutate. Maybe they were. We do not know. But we can believe. That is the difference, between us. A believing and a none believing person. And the difference is, that there is none. We are the same. Thinking about the same, knowing and not knowing the same facts. Simply chose to call it differently."

79. “I’m not here to boost your ego Walmart Superman.”

80. “This is my ninja way.”

81. “They say I care I didn’t care when my dog died.”

82. “I really don’t think barging is the right word… strolled is a more accurate description, I think.”

83. “Of course. I’d tie them up. First I’d remove each nail and when it got inflamed, I’d dip it in salt. They screamed so loud, you have no idea. Then I start to amputate. I’d remove one finger each day, then the toes. Then the hand, then feet, moving my ways up. They wouldn’t die since I would cauterize their wounds. Then I’d play with them. I’d throw screw drivers, knifes, and needles at them. I have a terrible shot you know… or do I?”

84. “I rip their hair out with my own hands and feed it to them. I’d shove my fingers into their eyes till they pop out. The genitals are always last to go. Even if they admit in the beginning, I’d still do it. I’d then dump their bodies for the little birdies and critters to nibble at.”

85. “Treat me like a joke and I’ll leave you like it’s funny.”

86. “I don’t want you guys to think I’m some good guy cause if I got the chance I would sacrifice you all in a heartbeat.”

87. “You fuck me but won’t marry me! How does that work?!”

88. “Shut your mouth!”

89. “Oh I thought you liked it wide open.”

90. “I’m the person who’s gonna cut ya dick off and glue it to ya forehead so you look like a lilting unicorn.”

91. “Who the fuck are you?”

92. “Nobody gives me butterflies anymore, just anger issues.”

93. “Fuck you goatman!”

94. “Mentally sick, physically thick.”

95. “Congratulations, you played yourself.”

96. “I use my tears as hand sanitizer because there’s nothing riper then depression in it’s purest form.”

97. “Always in the sun, but no ones son is ever in me.”

98. “Well if he says I am baby then I am baby. Goo goo ga ga motherfuckers.”

99. “Is this a new technique for kidnapping kids?”

100. “Cry like a little girl. Run like a slave. But when I catch that ass boy, you gonna behave.”

101. “Call me a escalator cause I always let people down.”

102. “Call me a tree cause they always picking on me.”

103. “Call me my dad cause I’m never around.”

104. “Dark humor cause even orphans gotta laugh, shopping which is weird cause I will dead wear the same shit for a month straight, laundry - it’s something about seeing the clothes and everything drown that gets me going.”

105. “They play dumb I play dumber looks like we spongebob and Patrick now.”

106. “Roses are red, Memes are neat. I wanna die, LMFAO YEET.”

107. “If you feel like the world is eating you alive that’s just proof you always looking like a snack.”

108. “I know I’m hot, but I also know I’m not a full time hot person. I’m hit when I want to be. I choose my own hours. I make my own schedule. I do freelance hotness.”

109. “You have a build a bear as a principal.”

110. “I was gonna give you that vacuum cleaner gawk gawk 6000 and this juicy wet 🐱 till you leaked outta me after painting me white on the insides but it seems you having a good night without me so anyways goodnight ☺️.”

111. “Is this social interaction because I don’t really like it.”

112. “Listen if a guy doesn't man handle me during a makeout session or during u know 😏 I'm putting him in rice or sending him back to whoever broke him 😂.”

113. “If we dated before I turnt 20 you are not an ex but a childhood friend.”

114. “Can you wipe off my favorite seat oh I meant ya face.”

115. “Guess I’ll have to stick around, gotta keep you guys alive…for my own.”

116. “I never said I was an angel. Nor am I innocent or holy like the Virgin Mary. What I am is natural and serious and as sensitive as an open nerve on an ice cube. I'm a young black sister with an unselfish heart who overdosed on love long ago. My closest friends consider me soft-spoken. Others say I have a deadly tongue. And while it's true that I have a spicy attitude like most of the ghetto girls I know, I back it up with a quick, precise, and knowledgeable mind. My memory runs. Way back and I'm inclined to remind people of the things they'd most like to forget.”

117. “My vagina just said thank you in Spanish.”

118. “I look at you and go dry, like sand.”

119. “Told you not to call him shitty, now you look like shit.”

120. “You really don’t know someone till you’ve seen them beg for mercy.”

121. “Oh how their screams make me tingle.”

122. “Your words hold no weight against mine.”

123. “Well aren’t you Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes.”

124. “Don’t you know that threats only work on those that have something to lose? If anything I count death as my blessing.”

125. “Welcome to my abortion clinic pizzeria were yesterday‘s loss is today’s sauce.”

126. “Do you know Jesus is actually black and he’s all our fathers cause we haven’t seen him in years.”

127. “Do you know all the zodiacs have their own hairstyles expect for cancers.”

128. “It means I'm perfectly content but also wouldn't mind if the sun exloded right now and killed us all.”

129. “Every day I think I’m getting closer, gonna take a bath with my fucking toaster.”

130. “Are you a race horse? Cause when I ride you’ll always finish first.”

131. “You know what sea turtles and I have in common… we both like being choked by trash.”

132. “I’m gonna sound like a Victorian peasant but please sir may I have some bread? I rather not have some of that mystery meat.”

133. “Service error 11037: Go fuck yourself :)”

134. “🔫🐝 you are beeing robbed. Only thing that’ll save you is ya number. “

135. “Sharing is caring but unfortunately I don’t care.”

136. “He likes to play catch, so I asked him can you catch these hands. He said yes so I hit the living fuck outta him. What’s the problem officer!”

137. “Do you think when humans feel butterflies in their stomachs that butterflies feel humans in their stomachs?”

138. “I keep looking behind and hope to continue forward.”

139. “I’m sorry, is our friendly banter bothering you? I know you prefer to choke your friends rather than joke-”

140. “Are we even together together or are we together like high school musical we all in this together type shit.”

141. “Oh, because I’m so scared of a slenderman clone with daddy issues, who’s also having a sexuality crisis”

142. “Bitch, your pussy smells like hotdog water. Move on.” 

143. “You’re so cute…I hate it.”

144. “Look. I could be a whore, or I could be YOUR whore. Really; it’s up to you.”

145. “Oh, oh, oh my god. Choking is my main turn on.”

146. “This is my no no cube. Anything is possible if you have enough lube.”

147. “Aye baby you ever had KFC. Cause I can give you some of that Kentucky Fried Cock.”

148. “You’re not dummy thicc you’re dummy stick.”

149. “And you little stupid purple looking Barney looking bitch!”

150. “I was raised and surrounded by happiness, something you don’t know.”

151. “They put you in the streets but even the streets ain’t want you.”

152. “Remember reality is an illusion,the universe is a hologram. Buy gold, bye.”

153. “Better scramble like an egg before you get folded like an omelette.”

154. “Play stupid games, and you win stupid prizes .”

155. “Call me Ms.Water gun cause I’ll squirt you like one.”

156. “ I would say I’m like the ocean, I’m calm and peaceful and you can see my beauty on the outside but the further you dive into me you learn not everything is as it seems uptop. I’m calm yes but even calming things can be dangerous, I have my flaws the further you go in and things that are best left at the bottom of my ocean depths but do know if you are to disturb that sea level be ready to face the Consequences.”

157. “ i’m not interested in being disrespected by someone who I lowered my standards for.”

158. “Shut the fuck up before I fold your lanky ass like a chair.”

159. “Listen here, Snotball, don’t bullshit me. I’m ain’t come here for your public-pleasing fake smile. “Go polish your skills instead of sucking my dick…”

160. “ Nana whipped them highschool kiddies asses into shape that day, oh yes she did. They met they maker on them steps I tell you, now go and and play with this old timer if you dear I’ll send that ass to the pearly gates or the flaming pits below.”

161. “Let my hands speak for me, smack talk.”

162. “Why be a wallflower when you can be a Venus fly trap?”

163. “Out here living like the main character because if I’m not the main character, I’m that one bitch that go berserk.”

164. “Food is fun, food is great, food is why we celebrate!”

165. “I want my next piercing to be a bullet. In my head."

166. “Okay, rude. You have the Eminem’s hairline, but I didn’t say anything about it!”

167. “If I’m die, then I wish to go out on my own terms, for I am like none other person on this earth.”

168. “Criminal or not. Sometimes it’s nice to be wanted.”

169. “When I said I fell in love with you I lied. I fell in love with your entire existence, I would cry for you, I would kill for you, I would die for you. “

170. “Life is just a big movie, you just can’t pick your genre.”

[empresstheresa-guide]

Theresa and Steve, a love story for the ages.. part 2

Part 2: A little ditty about Jack and Theresa. This will be short. 

In chapter 3, Theresa goes to Boston College. Before she even has time to settle down, guys are already staring at her in the cafeteria. 

”There was a group of kids at a nearby table looking at me.  A girl learns to read expressions. ”

Every time Norman describes how girls/women think, I lose a brain cell. 

”One boy was intently looking at me.  I called him Mr. Intense.  He was very handsome, with short hair as black as my own, and he was around six feet which was a good match for my five feet four inches.  I liked taller guys and apparently he liked smaller girls. He wasn’t gawking at a pretty girl, or lusting for her body.  He looked interested.  And that’s ok.  A girl gets used to being looked at.”

This is Steve. She’s basically in love with him already. What’s the difference between lusting for her body and being ”interested”? 

My experience is that most women don’t enjoy being stared at, but men think we do. Norman reminds me of those insufferable guys who think women’s main task on Earth is to attract men. He probably is one of those guys.

In Theresa’s case, of course, she’s already being watched by 400 government agents, so she should be used to it. But I don’t think Norman considered that here. She doesn’t even question whether Steve is a watcher, and that’s why he’s so intently staring at her. This chapter has zero HAL and discusses Theresa like she was an ordinary college student. There’s just one brief interlude - which I will skip here - about her watchers being caught by campus cops. 

One of Norman’s issues as a writer is that he doesn’t even try to fit different parts of the book together. This chapter is about Jack and Steve, so HAL is not relevant here. You’d think if Theresa gives off heat and has super strength, that would be mentioned at least in passing. The boys would notice she gives off heat, right? Or she could slip up and use her powers by mistake. That would have made the book much more interesting. Theresa’s career as a baseball player is also completely dropped, she has no interest in joining college level teams, and no one is pressuring her to do so. 

”   But it wasn’t Mr. Intense who made the first move.  A boy next to him, Mr. Fastmove,  brought his food tray over to my table.”

Mr. Intense is organic, if unoriginal, but Mr. Fastmove… There is a moving company called Fastmove, but apart from that, I didn’t find much on google. Maybe Norman coined this phrase. 

”Hi,” said Mr. Fastmove.  “Can I sit here?”

      “Sure,” I said with a smile.  I had been advised to be friendly from day one or be labeled a tease for the rest of our four years.”

Oh no Norman. No no no. No. 

”I’m Jack Koster,” said Mr. Fastmove.  “Aren’t you Theresa Sullivan, the baseball player?”

      I had been on television a lot.”

Gotta work in those brags at every opportunity. Once you mention his real name, you can drop the nickname, but I think Norman is just proud of what he did here. Also note there is NO description whatsoever of Jack’s looks or manner, just that he came to her table. Norman isn’t even trying. 

“I am,” I said, and we were off and running.  I noticed that Mr. Intense looked disappointed.  It made me think of someone whose neighbor won the lottery.”

Being with Theresa is like winning the lottery. Our humble girl. 

I genuinely don’t understand why she hooks up with Jack at all. All she had to do was say ”nice to meet you” and walk away. She shouldn’t feel obligated to date the boy who happens to talk to her first. 

Next, Theresa looks up both boys on BC’s computer system where, in 2017, ”BC provided free disk space and all the students were urged to set up a webpage about themselves before they got to school.” Norman probably wrote this part in 2001 and forgot to change it.

This is all she says about Jack: 

” Jack was a boy from close to New York City but not in it.  His father was owner of a specialty food store.  Jack was going to be a history major, a guarantee of a job in his father‘s store.”

Is Norman negging history majors? This reminds me of a skit show that advertised college degrees, including a 13-year degree for really dumb students who are just killing time before they get a job in their father’s business. Maybe Norman thinks history is equally pointless. (With the exception of Joan of Arc.) 

But enough about Jack, who cares about the boy she’s actually going to date. Let’s talk about Steve.��

”  Mr. Intense was Steve Hartley.  His father was a physicist for Intel and Steve was majoring in physics too.  That was interesting.  He mentioned he was Catholic.  Also interesting. ”

Wow, a Catholic boy in a Catholic college? How interesting. 

”Steve’s page showed the kid of a research physicist, precise, succinct, and somewhat lacking in spontaneity.  Something like myself, actually.  It wasn’t a bad thing, except in reality TV shows where they have to keep the gab going all the time.”

Just date him already. You can’t fully know someone’s personality just based on whatever ”webpage” they set up, either. He’s still a complete stranger. The mention of reality shows really ruins this paragraph, too. If people in reality shows just sat silently, it wouldn’t be very good TV. Norman has to work in every single pet peeve of his. This is a typical problem for people writing their first story. 

” Jack knew I was not the kind of girl who had to put up with foul language or crude jokes, and he carefully avoided them.  He was one smooth operator.”

*headdesk* Being a ”smooth operator” isn’t necessarily a good thing, and is in fact associated with manipulating others. I don’t even know what Norman means here.

” One Sunday Steve saw me at Mass.  He looked embarrassed, like somebody who had missed his chance, not somebody who did something bad.  Well, four years is a long time and the campus had a lot of women.   ”

Why are you even looking at him when you’re dating someone else? 

”Steve seemed nice in person.  He always gave me a little smile like he was glad to see me.  He and Jack were casual friends and apparently didn’t  talk about me.  But I’d seen the looks.  Steve was genuinely interested. ”

Yes, you already made this point. She’s going on about Steve and his interest, while dating Jack. Wouldn’t that be a sin, dating a boy you don’t care about and spending all your time admiring another boy? It doesn’t seem like something a good Catholic girl would do.

”There was nothing wrong with dating Jack for a while.  It was already clear that we were not compatible enough for a lifetime of commitment.  He was a little careless about schoolwork and had no passion for his major.  I was fanatical about mine.  But Jack was fun to be around for the time being.”

She’s fanatical about her major, which she doesn’t even name here. Spoiler alert: it’s math, which she picked because it was meant to help with HAL? I’m not sure how that would have worked. Later on, she says that all she ever wanted was to be a high school math teacher, something she never mentions before that moment. 

After Jack comes to her table, there is not a single scene where Theresa and Jack talk to each other alone, or go on a date. Not a single one. Jack is never fleshed out. What does he look like? Is Theresa attracted to him at all? What’s his personality like? If he has many stories to tell, you could give an example and have him tell a compelling story. That would have been interesting. 

One of the more famous triangle dramas was on ”The Office”. Roy was initially established as a jerk, but he was kind to Pam at least sometimes, and he truly tried to better himself. We knew she would end up with Jim, but Roy was not a complete monster, and he seemed human. Jack has no personality, no description, nothing. I believe KrimsonRogue said that the characters are somehow less than two-dimensional, and Jack definitely fits that description. He’s like a cardboard cutout of a boy. 

”Come October it was Homecoming week, always a big weekend on any college campus.  There were many special activities going on and we had to choose a list.”

Remember this later when she claims BC has no entertainment or parties at all. 

”Friday nights, the kids would ‘hang‘ around,  meaning drift up and down the dormitory hall talking and joking with anybody there. ”

How do you do, fellow kids?

”Jack’s door was open and I walked in.  There were six boys visiting Jack including Steve Hartley, and one girl.”

I guess it’s relevant for later that Steve is there, but it still sounds like she only has eyes for him.  

As Theresa walks into the room, an awkward silence falls. 

”Hi, Theresa” said Jack with not a lot of enthusiasm.  “This is Ginny.”

“Hi” I said.  There was not much else to say until I found out something.

“Ginny dropped in by surprise” Jack said.

”Yeah!  I could see that!  I couldn’t remember seeing her around campus, or at least not in our complex.  She might be somebody from outside.”

This would be a lot more powerful if Theresa actually gave a damn about Jack. 

Also names. Ginny is short for Virginia. There is another character called Virginia later in the book, just like there’s another character called Jack. I doubt Norman has read ”Harry Potter”; he probably knew young girls called Virginia when he was growing up. What’s wrong with age appropriate names for 2017? Emily, Sophia, Madison? 

”The embarrassing silence continued.  Ginny looked very uncomfortable.  She had known no more about me than the other way around.  Ginny’s position near Jack made it clear she considered herself his girlfriend.”

Jack has to be discarded so Theresa can be with Steve. For some reason, Theresa can’t just tell him they’re incompatible and she’s not interested in pursuing the relationship in the long term. He has to cheat on her, because this gives Theresa the moral high ground to dump Jack and move straight onto Steve.  

Norman probably thinks this is a great twist and the readers will be aghast at Jack’s behavior, but it just comes off as flat. He’s shitty, but there’s no stakes, because they hardly have a relationship at all. 

Jack promises to come up to Theresa’s room to talk. 

”I went back upstairs.  This was the most humiliating experience I ever had.  All those boys were watching.”

This at least is a normal human reaction to the events, I’ll give Norman that. But Theresa isn’t truly sad, she’s just embarrassed. It’s not her heart, but her ego that is wounded. 

And this is where the different editions begin. Buckle up for a wild ride through Norman’s weird imagination in part 3: roads diverged in the Kindle, and that made all the difference. 

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 2x22 All Hell Breaks Loose (Chapter 2)

“You’re damn right we got work to do! But we gotta fix up that head of yours first.” 

Ellen throws a stern glance at Dean across the closed trunk of the Impala. The kid’s all gung-ho and determined to rock and roll, and - sure - they got a hundred or so demons to hunt down and send back to hell. And after what she just learned, he’s running out of time. But John Winchester’s eldest is also pale as a sheet against the blood smeared across his forehead, and, doomed or not, Ellen’s not gonna let him walk into battle with an open head wound.

As expected, Dean tries to ward her off. “It’s nothing, Ellen. Just a cut. We’re only losing time. The sooner we find-“

“Shut up and sit down!” Ellen grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him against the Impala, forcing him to half-sit on the trunk. “Lemme see this.”

Surprised, Dean catches himself against the slippery metal and tries to get back up.

“Ellen! Seriously, this is completely un-“

“I said shut up and sit!” The kid may be six-foot-something with shoulders twice as broad as hers, but Ellen keeps him where he is with both hands and a glare that she’s perfected in her twenty years of raising Jo. 

And indeed, Dean closes his mouth just as quickly as he opened it, cowering just a little as he loses the staring contest with her.

“Uh… yes, ma’am.”

Ellen hears chuckling and a snort behind her, and when she turns her head she sees Sam and Bobby hiding amused grins. They’re clearly both still burning off an adrenaline high. Sam especially must be riding a rollercoaster of emotions, not knowing where to land yet - in triumph over defeating the Yellow-Eyed demon, or in despair over the fate of his brother. In any case, mollycoddling any of them isn’t going to help matters. 

“What are you two chuckleheads waiting for?” she barks at them. “Is anyone gonna fetch me a med kit or what?”

Her tone sobers them up immediately. While the two men scramble to do as told, Ellen releases her grip on Dean’s shoulders and examines his head. Obedient now, he lets her run her fingers through his hair, around the wound and across his brow, pressing here and there to check for fractures. Dean is as stoic about it as they come, obviously having attended the John Winchester School of Being Brave. Fortunately, nothing gives or shifts, and the swelling around the jagged gash is minor, but the wound itself is deep and still bleeding and won’t heal well on its own.

“This needs stitches,” Ellen observes, calculating. “Four or five at least.” Dean’s cheek twitches as she angles his head to get a better look. “But I’m gonna need better light.”

After years of patching up injured hunters at the Roadhouse, she prides herself on her field medic skills, but dawn is still a while off and it’s as dark as a donkey’s ass out here. Although she’s not one to give a damn about beauty standards, she doesn’t want to be responsible for leaving another ugly scar on Dean’s annoyingly young and handsome face, and he’s already got a faded, old one zig-zagging down right next to the new wound. And a flashlight - even their heavy duty ones - isn’t going to cut it. 

“We passed a motel a few miles back,” Bobby offers, back with the first-aid-kit. He sets it down on the trunk. “Might as well fix ‘im up there and get some shut-eye before we head on to my place and regroup from there. I could use some grub, too. ‘t’s been a night!”

“No!” Dean protests. “Those demons could be anywhere until tomorrow! Who knows how many people they’ll possess until then? We can’t give them any more of a headstart than they already have - Ow!”

He flinches when Ellen slaps him up the back of his head.

“Listen, sweetheart,” she tells him, not at all sweetly. “You may be on a deadline with that stupid, stupid demon deal hanging over your head.” She emphasizes her words with an extra glare, still incredulous of what she overheard. “But we’re not going to wing this Winchester style and get ourselves killed. We’re going to make a plan and stick to it, you hear me?”

Rubbing his head, Dean scowls at her, but he doesn’t dare talk back. 

Good for him.

“Sam?” Ellen looks at Dean’s brother for confirmation. “You with us, kid?”

John’s youngest curls a malcontent lip and shuffles his feet. After everything that just happened, and after what he just learned about his brother, the kid is visibly itching to put all that angsty energy to good use. Still flooded with adrenaline, all he wants to do is hunt. Ellen has seen this before, countless times. Dammit, the boy reminds her of her own husband, many years back, when she met him - stubborn and impetuous, with good instincts but too many emotions to keep a cool head. Jo got that from him.

Torn, Sam looks at Dean, and maybe it’s the paleness of his brother or the blood still dribbling down his face, but he eventually gives a begrudging nod. 

“Yeah, alright. Let’s take the night.”

“Good.” 

Decision made, Ellen pulls a few gauze pads out of the med kit and tapes them tightly over Dean’s wound while Dean practices his stoicism. It doesn’t have to be pretty for now. They just have to stop the bleeding so she can sew him up neatly at the motel. She twists an instant cold pack in her hands to activate it and places it over the bandage, lifting Dean’s hand to hold it in place. 

“Here. Keep pressure on this,” she instructs. “You good?” He’s gone a little peaky, and when she lifts his chin to look into his gosh-darn pretty green eyes it takes him a moment to focus on her. 

“Uh… yeah, I’m good,” he stutters, pulling one side of his mouth into a laborious smirk. Ellen blinks. With his full lips curled like that, the smattering of freckles across his nose and refusing to go cross-eyed in spite of the pain, he suddenly looks a lot like his father when he was younger.

“Uhm, Sam?” Ellen shakes the resemblance off and addresses the other Winchester who, with his lanky height, tan skin and puppy dog eyes, must be taking after his mother’s side of the family. “Give your brother a hand? We’ll take the lead.”

She waits by Dean’s side until Sam takes over, hooking his brother under the arm and helping him into the Impala’s passenger seat while Dean swats at him and swears that he doesn’t need his help.  

Smiling, Ellen shakes her head.

Boys.

“Ready to roll?” Bobby has cleaned up the gauze wrappers and stores the first-aid-kit away.  

“Yup. Let’s go.”

The Impala rumbles to life behind them, its headlights piercing the night when they climb into Bobby’s truck. Ellen exhales when they roll out of the clearing and reach the main road, leaving the abandoned farm and the Devil’s Gate further and further behind them. It feels good to get away from this godforsaken place.

xxx

Dean’s got to admit that Ellen’s good at this. A towel over one shoulder, he tries to sit still while Ellen puts in the stitches, and she’s quick and neat about it. Whenever he can’t help flinching, she gives him a moment, her cool hand cupping the good side of his face to steady him. It’s a motherly gesture, and he finds himself wanting to lean into it - such unfamiliar care that he only remembers from his early childhood days.

“Okay, hun?” She asks each time, her voice both rough and gentle, until he nods and she continues. 

While Ellen patches Dean up, Sammy lugs in their bags and salts the windows. He seems okay, considering everything they’ve gone through in the last twenty-four hours. In the car, on their way to the motel, Sam had focused on driving and staying close behind Ellen and Bobby, simultaneously keeping an eye both on Dean and on their surroundings. With all those demons let loose, an attack could happen any minute. 

Along the way, they’d stopped at a Drive-In, and now Bobby is opening food containers, revealing burgers and fries, along with some tofu abomination for Sam. Dean’s stomach flips at the smell, although it’s probably not Sam’s weirdo diet that’s making him nauseous. He hit that gravestone head first, and the way the ugly motel room wobbles around him tells him he’s got a concussion to walk off in the next couple of days.

“You need to hurl?” Bobby asks him, matter-of-factly. He’s suddenly appeared in his line of vision, holding out the trash can from the bathroom.

“Dean?” Ellen takes a step back from her work, needle and thread in her gloved hands, studying him intently, and he wonders how green he’s looking around the gills.

“I’m fine,” he claims, out of habit, and waves Bobby away. Then he gestures at his head. “Are you almost done?”

“One more.” 

Dean closes his eyes and swallows as the needle slides through his skin one more time. A final pinch and pull when she ties the last knot and cuts off the excess prolene thread. The cool hands return to tape a bandage over the sutures. She gently smoothes out its edges.

“All done.” Ellen snaps her bloody gloves off and eyes Dean critically. “You alright, cowboy?” 

Fingers trembling a little, Dean runs them over the bandage. The wound stings angrily under the gauze, and his head really hurts now, but he guesses he’ll live.

“Yeah. Thanks, Ellen.”

“You’re welcome.” She pops an orange pill bottle with prescription painkillers open and hands him two tablets along with a glass of water. “Here. Take two of these.”

Dean scowls at the water. “What, no beer?”

Ellen huffs disapprovingly, and before she can slap him again, Dean accepts the glass and swallows the pills. Then he scoots back against the headboard of the bed he’s sitting on and leans against it, tiredly tipping his head back. Demon invasion or not - now that the adrenaline has worn off and his head is pounding, he just wants to stay here forever. Or until his year runs out and they drag his sorry ass to Hell. 

Ellen disappears from his side to join Bobby at the rickety table to eat. In the background, a staticy newscaster voice is babbling from a shortwave radio, set to a local news station. Of course, Bobby wants to keep an eye on any omens popping up around them - storms, weird deaths, strange phenomena. So far, nothing undue seems to have been announced; Bobby and Ellen look alert but relatively at ease as they eat their meals and enter into a conversation Dean can’t quite get the gist of, a cottony feeling starting to cloud his brain.

Oh. The pills.

Ellen must have given him The Good Stuff, and he’s grateful. Right now, he doesn’t want to think about what lies ahead. Right now, he doesn’t care all that much. Finally admitting the truth to Sam about the demon deal had been painful, but also liberating. There was relief in that. And a year was a long time. 

Sam plops down on the bed beside Dean, with a fresh cold pack that he hands to him. “How you feelin’?” 

“Okay, I guess.” Dean gingerly holds the cold pack to his head. While the pills are already making him feel fuzzy, his headache is only just starting to dim.

Sam points at the food on the table. “D’you wanna eat?”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Maybe later.”

That gets him a worried frown. “You do have a concussion.”

Dean just shrugs.

Lips pursed, Sam studies him for a minute, then he seems to decide against a lecture on head injuries. God knows they both know the drill by now. Folding one long, angled leg over the other (the kid should have become a contortionist), Sam repositions himself on the bed. His face softens.

“Listen, Dean,” he says, voice solemn. “What I said back there, in the graveyard, that I’d have to save your ass for a change - I meant it.”

Immediately, Dean squirms. He’d rather not have a moment with Bobby and Ellen as an audience. However, when he looks over Sam’s shoulder, he finds them at the other end of the room, at the kitchenette, engrossed in their own conversation, and the radio is still blaring.

“I know you did.” He shrugs one shoulder and the corresponding eyebrow. 

“No, you don’t.” Sam pats one palm on the bed, twice, for emphasis. “I know that you say you believe me, but somehow I fear-” He pauses, groping for the right words. “I fear that you don’t think you should be saved. After Dad gave his life for you, you said you were dead, and that you should’ve stayed dead. I just… I don’t want you to  think you somehow deserve this - to go to Hell.”

“Whoa!” Dean lifts the cold pack from his face and stares at Sam, one defensive palm raised. “Whoa, Sam! Where the hell is this coming from?” 

Sam runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “Look… First you kept this from me - the demon deal. And now I have this feeling in my gut, like you’re pretending. You’re just going through the motions or something. For me.”

Damn, the kid is psychic. He’s wrong, of course, but not by much. Dean doesn’t want to go to Hell. But he knows there’s no way out. If they try to break the deal, Sam will die. And he’s never going to let that happen. Not over his dead body.

“Did Yellow Eyes crack your grapefruit or mine?” Dean asks, going for humor.

“Dean…”

“No, seriously, because you’re talking absolute nonsense!”

“Am I?”

Jeez, he’s giving him the watery puppy eyes now. “Yes!” Dean presses the cold pack back against his temple. He’s tired and his head is swimming from the pills and he really needs this pointless conversation to be over. “Now cut the crap and let me sleep. We gotta hunt tomorrow, remember? And save my ass?”

“You guys need a divorce lawyer or something?” Bobby has appeared next to Sam, beer bottle in hand, and Ellen is looking over at them with knitted brows. Dean has no clue how much they heard, but it must have been enough to attract Bobby’s attention.

Sam locks eyes with Dean. It’s an x-ray stare, questioning, scanning him for the truth. Dean holds his gaze. It’s a silent conversation, about trust and brotherhood and about keeping this between the two of them.

Let it go, little brother. Truce.

Finally, Sam’s eyes swing away. “No. No, we’re fine,” he tells Bobby, and from his tone Dean knows this discussion isn’t over. “Dean just hit his head a little too hard. His brain’s scrambled eggs. He should rest. Why don’t we call it a night and meet here again tomorrow morning, come up with a plan?”

Bobby’s clearly not buying that everything’s fine, but he knows better than to pry. “Alright,” he says, throwing them both an ominous, get-your-shit together look. “I’ll bring coffee.”

Ellen comes over and points from Sam to Dean. “You’ll keep an eye on him? Wake him up every-“

“..hour, yes. I know the drill,” Sam interrupts impatiently.

From his bed, Dean adds a little wave and a crooked smirk that he hopes doesn’t look fake. “‘Night, you two! Keep it down next door, will you? The walls are thin.”

With a synchronized eye roll, Bobby and Ellen head for the door. 

The truce holds when they’re finally alone. Before Sam turns in as well, there are doubtful  side glances at Dean as he cleans up the food containers and washes leftover beer down the drain. Sam’s still not trusting him, and it’s going to be hard to keep this charade up in the months ahead - to let Sam try and save him while also preventing him from doing so. It’s going to be hard, period. 

But neither death nor Hell nor Sam’s spidey sense are anything Dean wants to worry about right now, and, thankfully, the painkillers are helping with that. While Sam putters around the room, leaving him in peace, Dean lets himself fall into the comfortable haze of the drugs and barely notices the cold pack slipping out of his hand as he dozes off.

The Damage Control Series Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

[skylarmoon71]

Harry Wells (Flash) - Earth 2 - Chapter 14

Letting go is painful.

Harry hoped that those memories would hold for longer.

He was never certain when it would kick in.

It was quicker than he expected.

The both of you were having coffee. All you’d done was take a seat, and that was it.

“Oh, hello?”

Your head tilted to the side, as you stared at him.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes, have we met before?”

It was a literal gut punch. You were smiling, but there was not an ounce of recognition in your eyes. Harry did his best to collect himself to lay out a response that would be believable.

“I spilled my coffee on you yesterday, I wanted to apologize.” He placed the drink that he bought just for you on the table. When you read the label, your smile got brighter.

“Thank you, that’s so nice of you. I’m sure the coffee spilling was my fault though. I tend to get a bit clumsy. Especially around handsome men.”

From the color that littered your cheeks, it was clear you hadn’t planned to say that.

He couldn’t help it, he laughed. Because it was so uncharacteristic of you. It was all he could truly do to keep himself from crying at the moment.

His laughter seemed to urge your own.

The both of you sat there in fits of laughter. When it slowly began to die down, he wanted to reach out. Touch you, hold you, one last time. But it was useless. After a moment of internal battle, He stood.

“I should get going.”

You rise with him.

“W-Wait I-”

From the look on your face, it’s clear that you didn’t want him to leave. But he couldn’t stay there.

“Is there any way we could meet again?”

His expression slowly fell, and he reached for his cap out of instinct.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s all he said as he marched out of the shop, leaving you standing there.

It was cowardly, he knew that.

But there was nothing else he could do.

He told himself it was wrong.

It was wrong for him to be this angry.

He wanted to see that smile, and you were finally wearing it. One that had no pain from Eobard’s wounds. Regret from decisions you made to save the ones you love. It was all gone.

You were free.

To live your life.

Now he needed to go and find a way to live his.

“You’re going back to earth 2?”

Harry nodded at Cisco’s observation. He’d caught him packing up a few of his gadgets from the lab. Barry’s steps slowed when he caught the conversation.

“When do you plan to come back?” Barry asked.

Now Caitlin was fully listening.

“I don’t know.”

He wasn’t sure he could, at least not at the moment.

“I just need time to get things in order.”

“You mean forget about (Y/N).”

Cisco’s words were filled with bitterness.

“You’re just going to walk away. You promised you would see her one last time didn’t you? Now you’re just going to leave. Run away like you always do when you don’t want to face a problem.”

“What exactly would you have me do Ramon? Walk up to her and play pretend?”

“We know it’s hard but-”

“IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” Harry exploded.

He dropped his bag to the ground, fist clenched.

“I can’t..I can’t..”

He couldn’t even get the words out, and they understood. Harry looked off to the side, choking on his words. Cisco nodded, taking a step closer as he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Pretty soon Barry and Caitlin were at his side doing the same. It’s rare for someone as proud as Harry to be vulnerable.

All they could do at the moment was provide comfort.

Because no amount of words would fix what had been done.

[tokoro-ga-dokkoi]

Jokyou Seikatsuroku Ichijou: chapter 1 review

A great start to a near-perfect series.

Descriptions and a few panels below the cut... (Sorry if I sound stilted)...

Chapter 1: Tokyo

It begins with a regular night at a certain illegal Teiai casino.

The Bog does its thing, and fleeces this poor gentleman out of all his money.

This poor old fellow cannot get it in the hole- he's impotent.

Then we see who has created or developed such a devious contraption.

A certain long-haired beauty watches this scene in the manager's room.

"ICHIJOU SEIYA........!" "Hehe.."

Here he is- the best character Fukumoto has ever created. Ichijou is drawn superlatively cute in this frame, pushing to the envelope, the pinnacle of cuteness within the boundaries of Fkmt's artstyle. It is a redraw of his initial appearance, where he is more handsome or masculine. Whereas here, he looks soft and plush as a marshmallow. If you read the original Tobaku Hakairoku Kaiji manga, you'll laugh and be delighted to witness Ichijou's gradual facial transformation from ikemen to bishoujo.

He then visits the poor debtor who has lost the Bog. He says, "My, my… what's the matter, sir?" He encourages him to keep going and spending more money, just like a financial dominatrix. But that man has no money left- so Ichijou tells his blacksuits to escort him outside. Murakami asks him about it, and Ichijou says that gambling addicts reap what they sow.

[OR RATHER…]

Now a bait-and-switch- after showing a typical day of Ichijou at work, then… it shows a tiny apartment, and… Ichijou waking up- this is several years prior, he is 18 years old, a freelancer who had just moved to Tokyo. He had slept in until 1:30. Sleepless...

Ichijou in scruffy bed hair is cute! What a contrast to his usual neat and elegant appearance- gap-moé...

Of course, even elegant people lose sleep and need to get ready. After splashing his face and trimming his eyebrows, he is ready to go outside.

"Murakami, wake up!" Murakami is his roommate(!!) Everyone squealed in delight upon seeing that, at least on my timeline. "MuraIchi is CANON!!!!!!!" some people said. You should believe it when I say this, my timeline was on fire from this scene in particular.

There are a few clothes scattered on the floor, some of my fujo friends speculated about what made them stay up so late. This may be a delusion, but...

They go outside for breakfast (brunch). Using bread and sausage and condiments, Murakami garlic hotdogs. Murakami is pleased and proud of his invention.

Ichijou tells Murakami he shouldn't get excited about such a crummy meal. He gives a speech about ambition and hard work, and that if he allows himself to be satisfied with such meagre things, he will never push himself to succeed in life.

(But think about this, friends. He is living a peaceful life with his best friend. He has no debt.)

Ichijou is ashamed that he preached to Murakami about successful habits, when he himself got up at 1:30. Ashamed at his hypocrisy. Murakami pats and comforts him.

Look at those two random guys staring at them… Perhaps they are disgusted to see two men share affectionate gestures?

Ichijou and Murakami in this chapter, are two innocent young men who have not yet joined the evil company Teiai Group, and have not yet felt its corrupting influence.

To chapter 2…

[thedyingtimelady]

A Crush on someone isnt that simple

Prolog 2/2 Hogwarts (1880-1887)

After the work was done, they walked in his little "Apartment", next to the Barns and he gave her a cup of tea.

"Take some biscuits too Ms. Stone. You worked really hard. That must be rewarded.", he told her, drinking his own tea.

For a while, they sat in silents.

But then, Violet got up and looked Mr. Moon in his eyes.

"Please marry me!", she shouted out loud.

Mr. Moon spit his tea, coughs and let go of his cup, what broke on the floor.

"Oh.", Violet made a sound, taking her wand and said. "Reparo."

The cup was whole again and Mr Moon picked it up.

"What?", he was confused.

"Please Marry me! Right after I finished school! I want to be your wife! Lets get engaged!", she said again, blushing deeply.

"Never!" , he shouted at her, getting up himself, looking furious at her.

But as her heart sank, he kept talking: "You are way too young! Did you lost your mind? I am 31!! You are 16! A minor!",

"But Peri Bluefeather is already engagent to a man, who is 10 years older than her! And thats okay! Its normal!", she said.

"ITS NOT NORMAL TO MARRY A CHILD!", he screamed. Her eyes widen and she stepped back.

She wasnt a child... She was almost a woman. Everyone told her, she became a woman as she had her first period.

"But.... my...", she stopped. She couldnt talk with him about her period! How scandelous!

"I dont care what everyone says! Until you are 18 years old, you are still a child! And even 18 is way too young to marry! At least be 20! This sick world lets grown men marry children! Disguisting!", he growl, putting the dishes away.

As he turned again to her, he froze.

Violet was crying in silent. "But... I love you...", she whispers.

He sigh, walking up to her.

"You are not loving me. You having a crush, what is weird for me, because I am a caretaker. I mean... didnt you see any handsome, young man walking around in your school? Or at least... I dont know... Professor Sharp? He is younger than me! At least have a crush on him!", he tried to make her laugh, but it wasnt working.

"But I want you... my heart wants you."

He gently put his hands on her shoulder.

"You are very young Ms. Stone. You dont know anything, what is going on in this world. I wont push you away now. We just pretend, this never happened. You still can help me out, visit me, drink a tea with me, talk to me, alright? You are a very kind person and I like having you around. You not killing all my nerves like the other students do."

Now she giggles a bit.

He gave her his handkerchief and she cleaned her face with it.

"Keep it. So you have something from me. And when you are realizing, you dont love me anymore, you can give it back to me. Deal?", he asked.

She nod.

 Two years Later

Violet Stone gratuated at the age of 18, in the year 1887. As a Slytherin, she made her house proud with all the work she had done.

Before leaving her beloved school forever, she went to Mr. Moon, who was preparing something for the next school year.

Violet held tight on his handkerchief he gave her two years ago.

"Hello Mr. Moon. I wanted to see you, before I leave the school forever.", she said, with a sad tone in her voice. 

Mr. Moon looked at her, seeing the handkerchief in her hands.

He gave her a light smile.

"Now the time came, hm? I will miss you and your kindness towards me. But I am happy, that your heart moved on.

He stretched out his hand to get the handkerchief.

She shook her head and put the handkerchief away, taking out another one. It was stitched with her name on.

"No. I will keep it, because my heart still loves you dearly. Please take this gift. I will get it back, when I return.", she start to smile bright, her grey eyes shimmer in the sunlight.

Mr. Moon stared at her.

"What? Your Return?"

"Yes! I will return! Give me 5 years! Than I will be a mature adult and we can marry. And I will work here as your assistent, until we get married!", she grin brighter, giggling.

Mr. Moon shook his head.

She was a very pretty girl, he admit. And she was charming and kind to him. And her grey eyes made his heart sometimes easier. She just had to smile at him and all the frustration in his mind was gone. But it was wrong to think like this. He was true to his words.

„You will be 23 when we meet again?“, he asked.

„Yes! So you have more time to prepare and I will be a bit older, so we can marry without you worrying about anything!“, she said determaned.

She hands him her handkerchief. He took it with a smile.

„Thank you my dear. I dont think, you will rememeber me, when the years away from Hogwarts will start, but I think it is a lovely thought, that your love with stay strong, until you return to me.“

She came closer. His heart skipped a beat. „Please give me a kiss. Please. I want you to have a lovely memory of me. Maybe your feelings will grow with the years.“, she asked him gently.

She closed her eyes, waiting for him.

Now he became nervous. Gladwin Moon was looking around. Someone could see them! What will they think of him?

But he couldnt let her stay like this… right?

He put the handkerchief in his Pocket and gently took her face in his hands.

He gave her a small kiss on the forehead and then stepped back.

Violet open her eyes in surprise, but smiled at him.

„I love you Mr. Moon! Until we meet again, my Darling!“, she shouted in happiness and ran off.

He chuckled, while looking after her.

He stayed in his home, hearing the train drive off.

Now he will never see her again.

He took at her Handkerchief and open a drawer.

Gladwin stand there for a while, looking at it.

Then he sigh, closing the drawer and putting it in his Pocket.

He laughs silently.

„Until we meet again, you wonderful kind soul.“