#bree prattle

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

zombies + text posts (pt 3)

(1 2)

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Not enough them. NEVER ENOUGH THEM!

[hitchell-mope]

Bree. Honey. Cheerleaders are not their own species. Addison is one quarter alien and three quarters human. And that is all.

[lobslobslobs]

* oh also the ad i put on the bulletin board

* i tried wild world yesterday for the third time and i dont think i should write ads for companies ever again lol

[squoxle]

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 ~ 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐟 (18+)

*𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅.*

✩✩𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴：ⓌⒶⓇⓃⒾⓃⒼ

<<𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐭𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝑆𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤／𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐸𝑚𝑜𝑗𝑖❤️‍🔥

✩𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔：𝐁𝐛𝐬𝐟!𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡!𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐒𝐇’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

☆𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒： 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞/𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

☆𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡：5,415

☆𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦： 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡, 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

*Phwwwwhht*

The screeching sound of Coach Amy's whistle echoed through the gymnasium. "Come on, ladies! Hustle! Hustle!' she yelled. "How do you expect to compete against anyone like this? Damn, my 6-year-old son can hit a ball better than that!" You were doing deliver and pop-serve drills with the rest of your team. Usually, these were the easiest drills, but Coach Amy puts a lot of pressure on competitions. "Great job, ladies. Let's take a quick break and then when you come back, we'll split into teams and play a quick match."

Heather jogged over, tossing you a cold Gatorade, "Hey, Y/N. Do you wanna hang out after practice?" "Can't. Sunghoon said I gotta go straight home after practice." You took a quick sip of the cool drink. "Awww. Why? "Dunno. He just said I better be home. It's probably something stupid." "Hmm...okay, well, maybe another time." "Yep. Ugh. Coach is dragging practice out today." "I know right...I wish we could be done already." You nodded your head in agreement after taking one last sip before capping the bottle. "Well just don't let her know or else we'll be running laps and it's hot as fuck outside. Feels like hell on earth--"

Coach Amy came jogging in before you could finish what you were saying. "Sorry, ladies. I'm having an emergency at home right now. So, practice is over for the day. You can all go home for the evening. Or not. Oh, and make sure you get your stuff out of the lockers cuz' school's gonna be closed all next week for maintenance... Uhhhh...and try to practice your technique at home... Dammit, where'd I put my keys?" She prattled, gathering together her belongings before leaving the gym.

"Woah! Did you hear that?" Heather beamed. "Yea, we're done for the day." you sighed. "Not just the day, the WEEK!!" she continued.

"What are you two so excited about? You need all the practice you can get. Especially Heather's lazy ass." Kimberly scoffed. She's the team captain. Great leader...but it's more like a dictatorship. "God, what now Adolf Kimberly?" Brianna spat. "I'm not even fucking talking to you, bitch." "K, and. I heard you talking shit so I'm just trying to see what it's all about."

Brianna "Bree" is another one of your teammates. What really makes her stand out--aside from the black lipstick and eyeliner--is her nonchalant, badass mentality. As far as you know, she is only capable of expressing 5 emotions: spicy, empty, chill, tired, and happy...though the reasons behind her smile vary.

"Fuck you." "I guess you finally ran out of things to say huh?" "I have plenty to say. I'd just rather not waste my words on your gloomy ass. You freaky, emo, bitch." "Wow, that was almost good enough to tickle my feelings." "Whatever." Kimberly rolled her eyes before exiting the gym.

"Thanks, Bree." "It's all good Heather. You know how much I enjoy knocking the queen off of her throne." Brianna snickered.

The rest of the girls had already left, only you three were in the gym at this point. "I really wish we could hang out guys, but my lame-ass brother wants me to go home right after practice." "Ehh, it's cool. I got a few things to do too." Bree said as she let her hair down. "Boooo. Everybody has something to do except for me." Heather whined. "What about your history assignment. Isn't it due tomorrow?" Bree prompted. "Oh shit! I forgot. Gotta go girls. Byeeeee." Heather threw her bag over her shoulder before heading out. "I didn't know she was taking history this semester." "She's not. I was just trying to get rid of her." Brianna smiled before lugging her backpack on. "Have fun with your brother." she waved.

"Alright, Sunghoon. I'm home. Now, what was so--" As you walked in you noticed another pair of shoes at the front door. "Sunghoon?" You could hear him in the living room, but who the hell was he talking to?

"Hey, sis. Look who came to visit." Sunghoon said pointing to a familiar face.

"HEESEUNG?!"

"Hey! Long time no see huh?" Heeseung chimed as he scooped you up in his arms. *There was no way he was actually here.* you thought to yourself. It felt like the whole room was spinning. "Hehe. Look at her face." Heeseung chuckled. "She looks like she's seen a ghost," Sunghoon added.

Almost 2 years ago, Heeseung, signed up for a trip studying abroad in Switzerland. "Are you sure you still wanna do this?" Sunghoon asked as Heeseung finished packing up his dorm. You joined Sunghoon to see Heeseung for the last time before he left with the rest of his group. "Yea. I can get some cultural experience and even put my French to some good use." "To good use huh? Doing what? Seducing Swiss chicks?" "No," Heeseung laughed as he playfully pushed Sunghoon's shoulder. "I'm gonna be working with a psychiatrist." he continued.

At this time you were 17 and Heeseung was almost 20. He had been friends with Sunghoon since elementary. They were so close, that Heeseung felt like another brother to you, which is exactly why having a crush on him was the most repulsive thing you could ever do. But you couldn't help it. The feelings you had felt so wrong and so right at the same time. Still, a relationship between the two of you was impossible.

You can remember the one time Sunghoon found your diary. He had been suspecting that you were hiding something from him so he wanted to know if you had a secret boyfriend or something. Fortunately, he hadn't found anything connecting the dots back to your massive crush on Heeseung. You were 14 at the time and Sunghoon was always very protective of you, even now, he's the same way.

Present Day... "I thought you were supposed to be gone for another few months," Sunghoon said before taking a seat on the couch. "Yea, I was, but they ended up cancelling the trip early. So, I thought why not surprise my best friend with an unexpected return?" You still stood in shock as your brother went back and forth with Heeseung about his trip to Switzerland.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you guys something." Heeseung said as he walked over to his black duffle bag. He pulled out a small black trash bag. "I got a knife for you, Sunghoon. It even has your name engraved in it." "Woah, how'd you do that." "Oh, well there was this guy who branded all sorts of stuff. That's the same guy who put your name on this music box." Heeseung said, passing you a small wooden music box. There was a rabbit sculpted on the lid with flowers carved around the base. Your name was engraved on a gold plate in the center with rose bolts as fasteners.

"It's beautiful, Heeseung. Thank you," you smiled. "You're welcome," he replied. Maybe it was just your emotions, or maybe it wasn't, but the way he was looking at you was different. He could genuinely be happy to see you, but it felt like he wanted something more than a friendship.

"What else did you get? There's no way this was everything." Sunghoon said, taking Heeseung's attention off of you. "You guys are gonna love this." Heeseung chimed pulling out 2 large books. "A book?" You and Sunghoon questioned in unison. "Not just any book...a book box." Heeseung smiled as he opened the 'book box' to reveal an assortment of candy. "Authentic Swiss candy. Literally the best in the country," he smiled. "And this book over here has the sweetest Swiss wine." "I'll be taking that." Sunghoon laughed as he swiped the bottle from Heeseung's hands.

Sunghoon went to the kitchen to grab a few wine glasses. "Hey, Hee. Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?" "Umm, no. But don't worry about it. I'm gonna get a hotel for tonight and then I'll go shack up with my brother until I can move in on campus." "Well, you can stay here as long as you want. No need for a hotel. You know how much our parents love you." "Where are they by the way?" "Out of town for a business trip. They should be back in another week or so." "Oh, okay. Well, I can sleep on the couch if that's okay." "Or you could just have the extra bed in my room." "You still have that?" "Yea, it's a great storage unit." Sunghoon laughed.

After a few glasses of wine and some candy, Sunghoon and Heeseung headed off to his room for the night. Since it was Friday, they played games for a few hours before finally going to bed.

Aside from the massive amount of noise coming from your brother's room, you couldn't sleep at all. Once it finally quieted down you went to the kitchen to grab a drink.

You blindly walked through the darkness of the hallway, making your way to the kitchen.

"Couldn't sleep?" a voice in the darkness took you by surprise. "Sunghoon?" "Nope. He's still asleep. It's just me." "Oh..." "Well, you don't sound too thrilled to see me. Were you hoping to sneak out with your boyfriend or something?" "What!? No! I don't even have a boyfriend. I was literally coming to get a drink." "Relax. I was only teasing." You weren't actually offended, you just didn't expect him to say something like that.

"What are you doing awake anyway?" "Time is different in Switzerland, so my sleeping schedule is kinda off." "Oh." Heeseung walked over to the fridge and pulled out a cold water bottle. "Here." "Huh?" "You said you were coming to get a drink, right?" "Oh. Yeah. Thanks." You screwed off the cap before taking a sip from the bottle.

*Wait...Is he WATCHING ME??!! Why the hell is he--* *Cough. Cough.* Distracted by Heeseung's gaze you choked on the water in your mouth, spilling it all over your shirt. "Dammit," you mumbled to yourself. "Are you okay?" Heeseung ran to grab you a towel. "Yea. *cough* I'm fine." "Here let me help you." Heeseung started to pat at the wetness on your shirt, tapping gently across your tits. "Hmm, this isn't gonna work," he said before quickly removing his shirt. "Put this on," he commanded, passing you his shirt.

*Is he being serious?* "What?" Heeseung said before looking down to see your bare tits showing through the wet shirt. The cold water had also caused your nipples to harden. "Shit. Sorry. I'll turn around." Before he turned around you could see the imprint of his dick in his pants. It took you a few seconds to process what was happening before you started to remove your wet shirt. Surprisingly it was more difficult to take off than you had anticipated. As you wrestled with the shirt, you managed to yank it over your head, but not without whacking Heeseung on the shoulder. "Ouch." He said, turning back around to face you...topless.

"Oh my god. I-I-" "TURN AROUND!!" you whisper-yelled. "Sorry," he apologized before quickly turning around.

Both of you were quiet for a moment. "Heeseung?..." "Yea?" "You can turn around now." He slowly turned back around meeting your eyes. "I saw the way you were looking at me. What were you thinking about?" Your question caused Heeseung's eyes to widen. "I-uhh... You're Sunghoon's little sister. I can't..." "I know, but what if it's just one time?" You reached over to grab Heeseung's hand and place it on your exposed tit. He gently started to massage your tit in his hand. "See? It's not that bad... Just one time Heeseung. We can be quiet." "Okay, but this is never happening again, right?" "I promise."

You had no idea what succubus had taken over your body, but you were in no mood to stop what was about to happen.

Without your oversized shirt on, you were left in a pair of pastel panties. He immediately started to kiss your lips before pushing you to sit on the wooden bar stool. He was pressing on your thighs as he deepened the kiss. You could feel how desperate he was for more as he lifted you off of the stool. You wrapped your legs around him as he pulled you in even more.

"Wait," you said stopping him in his heat. "Let's go to my room," you said before leading him down the hallway.

❤️‍🔥: *Click* You locked your bedroom door before Heeseung carried you over to the bed. He started to kiss you again, but this time it was different. You could tell that he was getting more excited as he moved down to your neck, then your breasts, and ultimately...

Heeseung pulled down your panties and began to lap at your wetness. You took advantage of this moment and started to grind on his face by tugging at his hair. You noticed while he was eating you out that he was also jerking his cock. His soft moans were really turning you on...as if you needed any help getting turned on. Heeseung looked so sexy as he practically begged to stay between your legs. The way he ate you out caused you to squirm and moan.

"I don't wanna have all the fun by myself." You said breathlessly before Heeseung stopped and slowly rose to his feet. You fell to your knees as you stroked his thick, twitching dick before putting it in your mouth. It was so thick you could feel your lips stretching around it. He immediately started to forcefully pump himself in your mouth, moaning with every push. You didn't even have the chance to really get into it before he filled your mouth with his hot load.

"Sorry..." he apologized after cumming embarrassingly quick. "Umm, it's okay," you replied, shocked at what just happened. :❤️‍🔥

He gathered his clothes together and got dressed before leaving your room. "Goodnight, Y/N." "Night..."

The next day, you woke up to the sound of Heeseung and your brother playing the game. You knew that's what they were doing because of the loud shouting and rapid clicking of the controllers.

"Heeseung cover for me. I'm gonna flank these guys on the left." "Okay. FUCK!" "What happened?" "Some guy fucking scoped me from the roof." "Oh shit. Hold on...I'm gonna take a few out over here while I wait for you to respawn." "Dammit. These pussies are camping. I gotta find another way around." "Don't worry about it. I'm just gonna fall back and hit them with a grenade." "Okay, let me know when you get over here so I can pick up the loot."

*Knock, knock, knock* "Hey, Sunghoon." "What?" "Is it okay if I go out with the girls today?" "Uhh sure. Wait, no. Why?" "I was gonna hang out with them yesterday, but you told me to hurry home so I had to cancel." "Wait what? Hold on lemme finish up this game and we can talk okay."

It was nearly impossible to talk to your brother when he was in the middle of a game, especially if he was playing with friends. But you kind of wanted to get away for the day. Last night was insane and you didn't know how to look at Heeseung right now. Even just thinking about him got you excited. "Okay, I'll be in my room," you said before walking back to your room.

You decided to listen to music while you waited for Sunghoon. It had been almost 10 minutes before you heard a knock at your door. "Hey, umm...me and Sunghoon are done on the game, so you can go talk to him now." It was Heeseung, the main reason you wanted to go out today. "Oh, okay. Wait, Heeseung..."

You wanted to talk about last night. How did he feel? What was he thinking? "Yea?" "Can we talk about last night?" "What about it?" "We almost had sex. Don't you remember?" "SHHHHH! What the fuck is wrong with you?" he whispered loudly at you before walking into your room to slightly close the door behind him. "What?" "We're not supposed to be talking about that." "Yeah, but I-" "No. we're not talking about this. Just pretend it never happened. You're Sunghoon's little sister and that just feels really wrong." "You weren't thinking about that when you were fucking my mouth."

Before Heeseung could respond, Sunghoon walked in. "Umm. What are you guys doing in here? Y'know what... never mind. What were you trying to ask me earlier? Something about going out." "Yea. I was asking if I could go hang out with some of the girls from my team." "Sure, but you gotta be back home before 6, okay?" "Alright."

The two boys left your room before heading to the living room. "Hey, Heeseng can I talk to you for a minute?" "Sure man. What's up?" "I don't mind you hanging around my sister. I mean we basically grew up together, but you better not be fucking around with her." "What are you talking about?" "I'm just saying. You can't do that with her. I know how you used to like her. You told me that one time you got drunk." "But, that was years ago. I don't even like her like that anymore. I swear. She's like a little sister to me." "Okay, that's good. I just wanna make sure you understand how I feel about that." "Yea. I got it. Your sister's off limits."

It wasn’t long before you went out to the mall with Brianna and Heather to hang out for the next few hours. You had already done a little shopping and now you were sitting in the food court eating lunch. "Okay, so wait. You're asking me what I would do if my brother's best friend was a total hottie?" Heather squealed. "Obviously, I'd fuck him if I had the chance." she laughed. "Yea, but he's your brother's best friend and you guys grew up together." "But he's hot." "Ok, hold on lemme say something. Let's just say he's like a 10, right. And he shows the slightest interest. But on top of that, the thought of being with him makes you feel that rush." "That rush? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "You know like the taboo, forbidden love type. It kinda makes you want it more doesn't it." "OH MY GOD! Yessss. That makes it hotter." "No way. That makes it worse."

"Wait wait wait wait WAITTT!!! Oh my god. Don't tell me you did it." "WHAT!! No! Of course I didn't." "Yes, you totally did. You fucked your brother's best friend. That is so fucking hot." "That must've been the reason Sunghoon wanted you to come home. I remember you telling us he went to another country or whatever. Oh, I bet you couldn't wait to hop on that dick." Brianna laughed. "Guysssss. It's not like that." "Then tell us what it's like." "Yea, tell us what it feels like to fuck your brother's best friend."

"Look, I'm gonna tell you exactly how it happened. I literally got up to get something to drink. I thought that my brother and him were asleep so I didn't expect Heeseung to be in the kitchen." "And I guess that's when he gave you something to drink huh?" Bree winked. "No. Ugh, y'know what? Fuck this. I'm not telling you guys shit. I'm just gonna eat my damn lunch, okay." Brianna and Heather burst into laughter and continued teasing you for the rest of the day.

Brianna dropped Heather off at her house before bringing you home.

"Hey, I know we were joking around and everything earlier. But seriously, if your brother isn't okay with that, maybe you should let it go." "What do you mean?" "I'm sure he has his reasons for being against it. Maybe Heeseung doesn't treat girls right or maybe Sunghoon might feel uncomfortable looking at his best friend kiss his little sister. Especially if he sees him as a brother. Just think about it okay." "Okay, I will. Thanks for taking me home." You smiled. "Anytime. See ya later, Y/N." Brianna waved before driving off.

You walked inside to see Heeseung alone in the kitchen. You were getting a sense of deja vu. The last time you saw him in the kitchen by himself, you two ended up in your bedroom. "Where's Sunghoon?" you asked, breaking the silence. "He left a few minutes ago." "For what?" "He said he had to do something for school before Labor Day." "Oh, okay."

"Did you have fun?" "Huh?" "With your friends." "Oh, umm yea I did. We mainly just hung out at the mall…y’know. Girl stuff." You said before walking to your room to change your clothes.

*That was weird...Maybe I'm just overthinking things. He could've been genuinely asking.* you thought to yourself.

To take your mind off of your secret affair with Heeseung, you played some music on the mini speaker in your bedroom. You pulled your jeans off before taking off your shirt, then you walked over to your dresser and pulled out an outfit to wear after your bath.

"Hey..." You were so zoned out in the music that you hadn't even noticed when Heeseung walked into your room. "Oh my god!" you gasped, covering your lace bra with the folded clothes in your hands. "Oh shit. I'm sorry," he said immediately turning around. "You must enjoy sneaking peeks at me." "No, it was an accident. I swear." "Right. Because I'm Sunghoon's little sister huh?" "What?" "That's why you find me so repulsive." "That's not true." "Well, how come you shut me down earlier? Huh? If it's not true then it must be something else. What the hell did you come in here for anyway?" "I-uhh-I was actually coming to apologize for that." "For what?" "For being so harsh. I just don't want your brother to know about us."

*Woah. When the hell did we become an us?*

Heeseung turned to face you. "I really do like you, Y/N." He continued to walk closer to you. "And I want to be with you. We just have to keep it our little secret, okay?" Heeseung whispered in your ear, sending chills up your spine. This was much different from the way he acted the night before. "Can you keep a secret?" He asked, gently grazing your lips with his. "Yes." you submissively responded as Heeseung kissed your lips.

He proceeded to guide you into the bathroom in your room. It was like you were entranced by the way you let him take control of you. He locked the door behind you before turning on the water in the shower.

❤️‍🔥: "We gotta be quick. Who knows how long Sunghoon's gonna be." Heeseung said as he began to remove his clothes. "Wait! Are you gonna get in the shower with me?" "Of course I am," he chuckled before walking into the warm shower and kissing you again, but this time you could feel him forcing his cock between your thighs. It barely grazed your clit before you let out a soft moan.

"You like it that much? Huh? You like the way I tease your pretty little pussy?" The hot, steamy water caused Heeseung's hair to stick to his face. Heeseung started to grind harder and faster, sending you over the edge. This time he was focusing only on stimulating your clit because he loved feeling you shake in his arms. He grabbed your hands and pinned them behind your back before lifting one of your legs to expose your throbbing, dripping cunt. "I'm gonna fuck your pussy raw, baby," Heeseung said as he began to pump himself into you. Within seconds you were already ready to cum. "Cum for me baby." after hearing this you came hard and loud, but he didn't slow down and continued fucking you the same way. "Do you like it when I fuck that perfect pussy of yours?" You were a dripping, moaning mess, he had fucked you senseless. You could barely even speak, only broken whimpers escaped your lips.

"Get on your knees and suck it. I wanna cum all over those perky tits." Heeseung huffed as you trembled down to your knees. "You're such a good girl," Heeseung said as he pulled your chin to kiss your lips. "You're such a fucking good girl for me, baby," he continued before stuffing his thick, throbbing cock in your mouth. He did a few strokes before pulling his cock out to let you breathe. "Open up baby girl," he said as you opened your mouth. Heeseung spit on your tongue and shoved his dick back in your mouth, pulling it out every so often. "Mmm fuck, baby. I love fucking that pretty mouth of yours," he groaned as he continued fucking your mouth. "Yea, baby. Just like that. You're doing so good." He threw his head back before pushing 3 long, hard strokes down your throat and pulling out to cum all over your tits. "We can go again after your brother goes to sleep." :❤️‍🔥

Surprisingly, he actually stayed to finish showering with you. He lathered the lavender loofah in his hands before rubbing it over your tits, cleaning his load off of them. He proceeded to clean your shoulders and slowly moved down to the rest of your body.

Sunghoon came home soon after your sexy, teasing shower with Heeseung, but by that time you had fallen asleep on the couch.

You felt a soft kiss placed gently on your forehead.

"You're like a drug to me, Y/N. And I'm addicted. I love the way I lose control around you. Sunghoon's little sister or not, I love you and I have for a very long time."

Heeseung's voice cut through your dream, but you were unsure if you were dreaming or if he really said that.

"Wow, she's sleeping this early?" Sunghoon said seeing you lying peacefully on the couch. "Yea, she just came home, showered, and passed out on the couch." Heeseung chuckled. "Hmm, well I don't wanna just leave her here. Every time she falls asleep on the couch she wakes up in pain. I'll just carry her to her bed and then we can go hang out for a bit." "Uhh, I don't mind bringing her for you." "You sure?" "Yea, I got her." "Okay, thanks. You might want to pull her covers back first-- Y'know what I'll go do that and you just pick her up."

Heeseung forgot that he hadn't had the chance to take his clothes out of your bathroom. He was hoping that Sunghoon didn't see his clothes lying on your bathroom floor. Fortunately, the lights were off and Heeseung kept it that way. For some reason, unbeknownst to Heeseung, there was something about carrying you to bed that he loved. This was the first time he ever did it, but he remembered Sunghoon doing it a few times when you were younger. There were times you'd fall asleep in your brother's bed and he would always carry you to bed, so it was no shock to you when you woke up around 3 a.m. under the covers in your bed.

Feeling a little flushed, you walked to the kitchen to grab a cold drink. You were actually thirsty, but you were also hoping to run into Heeseung in the kitchen. However, to your surprise, the kitchen was completely empty.

You grabbed a tall glass from the cabinet and filled it with cold water, even though you were tempted to get lemonade or something. You drank a few sips before taking the glass back to your room.

Before going back to bed, you peeked into Sunghoon's room to check on him. You had fallen asleep early so you were just checking that he was in bed. You saw your brother curled up in his bed, wild strands of hair framed his delicate features. Your brother could be very annoying sometimes, but you knew it was just his way of looking out for you.

You slowly closed the door before entering your room.

"HEESEUNG!!" you quietly shouted before closing the door behind you and placing the glass of water on your desk. "What the hell are you doing in here?" "I forgot my clothes in your bathroom." "Oh..." "Did you want me to leave them in there for you to try on later?" "No, I-" "I'm teasing." Heeseung held his clothes in his hands and walked toward the door.

"Hmm, you closed the door. Were you expecting something else? Maybe that extra round now that your brother's asleep?" Your cheeks turned red upon hearing this. "WHAT! NO. I-I didn't even think about that." "Okay, so you don't mind if I just walk out and go back to bed?" "I...umm-" "Exactly," Heeseung chuckled as he continued walking to the door.

"Wait..."

"What? Lemme guess, now you want me to stay?"

"Well...yea."

You saw a grin widen on Heeseung's face as he dropped the clothes in his hand and practically pounced on you, taking a handful of your hair as he pulled you in deeper for a passionate, aggressive kiss.

❤️‍🔥: He leaned you over your bed, grinding himself against your ass as he continued to kiss and bite your neck and shoulders. Still keeping a grip on your hair, he reached his free hand into your panties. He pushed two of his fingers into your wet pussy and used his thumb to stimulate your clit.

You remembered what he said earlier about loving the way you shake in his arms so you already expected to be edged and teased until you could barely stand. Occasionally, he would pause to lick your pussy from behind, spreading your lips with his fingers. "Okay, baby. It's my turn now," he said before softly spanking your ass. You crawled onto your bed before feeling Heeseung force his thick cock inside of your pussy causing you to let out a soft moan from the pain. Upon hearing that, Heeseung placed a hard smack across your ass.

"I love it when you moan for me, baby. Do it again," he commanded, smacking your ass again as he continued to pump himself inside of you. The strokes weren't fast and aggressive like earlier, instead, they were long, full, hard strokes. He'd slowly pull back, nearly letting the tip escape the warmth of your throbbing hole before quickly slamming himself back into your pussy.

By this time your knees had given out and you were fully supported by his grasp around your waist. He continued like this for a while, spanking your ass and fucking you from behind before flipping you over on your back. "I wanna watch you cum." he said as he started to pump himself inside of your, picking up the pace with every stroke. "Play with that clit for me, baby. I want you to squirm for me." Just as he instructed, you started to rub your clit. "That's it, baby." he kept up a consistent speed before you came all over his dick. He pulled out of your pussy and forced himself into your mouth as he filled it with his cream.

Even though you were exhausted, you wanted to go again. "Heeseung?" you called out as he sat over you. "What?" You didn't say anything. You just looked at him and he must've read your mind because he just smiled before inserting himself back into your pussy. Tears rolled down your cheeks from the overwhelming sense of pain and pleasure. He continued to fuck you hard while sucking on your tits. Heeseung grabbed your hands, holding them over your head as pounded himself deeper into you before the two of you came together. You could feel his hot load flood your pussy as it continued to spill out. :❤️‍🔥

The next few days continued the same way, you and Heeseung sneaking around and fucking whenever Sunghoon wasn't looking. However, by that time Heeseung and you had made things official. You were now secretly dating your brother's best friend.

Since there was no school the following week, you and Heeseung had plenty of bonding time whenever Sunghoon went to work. On top of that, your parents were still away on a business trip, so the two of you enjoyed every moment you had together.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ

💌Requested by: @hoyeonheeseung

❀𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@chlorinecake @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul

[therealvinelle]

How long would you last if you were part of Victoria’s newborn army?

Oh, the trouble is I don't think Riley would scout me in the first place.

Riley went after young people who wouldn't be missed. Bree Tanner was homeless on the streets, so he offered her a meal. Once they were vampires, their youth and lack of prospects meant he could present himself as their savior.

I'm in my mid-twenties, I dress well, I would not be Riley's pick.

Assuming, though, that you pluck my sixteen-year-old self from the time-space continuum and dump me in Seattle in 2006, I imagine my displaced self would be having a devil of a time getting in touch with the Norwegian embassy. When a clean-looking, if intimidating, young man comes up to me to offer a free meal, I... probably don't have the situational awareness to recognise this guy is probably a human trafficker. I was not a suspicious sixteen-year-old.

I accompany him, get bit, and now that I'm a vampire I... once again don't know what my sixteen-year-old self would have done. My present day self would run for it as soon as I saw an opportunity and might actually be fine ("fine" here meaning "alive but a bloodsucking monster") provided I wasn't caught, but at sixteen...

I probably prattle about the Titanic (I can go down and see it without a submersible now! Who's with me!) to the wrong person and die within the first week.

[chaoticbard]

"I am loathe to admit it, but yes," Alaara nodded. "The nerves will ebb in time. Perform anywhere long enough, and you will become so accustomed to your surroundings that they all melt away." And melt away they often did for her when she performed, her mind lost in whatever it was she was singing or playing. It was like magic; the audience was like a play that she was the lone audience member for.

"I think that rambling is a bard's way," she replied, drawing herself back to the present in full. "I find myself doing the same." This was wholly the truth; Alaara took to prattling, some would argue, at any opportunity given her.

"Well met, Bree Heartleaf. I am always glad to have another bard pay a visit to the Jolly Goose. Even when they are utterly full of themselves, I bid them welcome." She leaned in, giving Bree a conspiratorial sort of grin. "I enjoy watching that variety make fools of themselves."

She stood back taller once more and again laughed when told of her continued fame at New Olamn. Alaara suppressed a purr of flattered joy at the news by doing so.

"A rite of passage? Nay, perhaps a means of torture!" She could not help but to keep laughing, her eyes crinkled and her teeth bared. "Unofficially though perhaps you're onto something. A flattering thought regardless. So... what do the students and professors have to say of old Alaara, hmm? You have me most curious to know."

𝄞𝄢 BREE smiled, her earlier trepidation melting away under the warmth of Alaara's gentle, encouraging words. She nodded and followed behind the latter towards the designated alcove. Here it was a little quieter, the miasma of the tavern fading away into a dull roar. Under the staircase, Bree found herself in closer proximity of the dragonborn. She had only encountered a few in her life, but never had she met one the color of the sea.

Beautiful, she thought quietly to herself as she listened to Alaara.

Her smile only widened in the face of Alaara's self-deprecating jokes, and she felt herself growing a little more at ease. It was something close to magic, how easily the other bard could disarm someone with a friendly crinkle of her eyes and a well-timed jest.

Bree couldn't deny the small pang of both admiration and envy.

❝ Is my inexperience that obvious? ❞ she asked sheepishly. Her tail curled in the shape of a question mark against her leg. ❝ I suppose it has been a while since I've taken the stage and made a proper fool out of myself in front of an audience. ❞ The tiefling visibly perked up at the mention of Waterdeep's beloved bardic college. ❝ Ah, yes. I did graduate recently. Well, not recently recently. I took a bit of time off after... ❞

She shook her head as if it would cause her racing thoughts to fling out of her pointed ears. ❝ I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I have a tendency to do that when I'm nervous. I'm Bree. Bree Heartleaf. Well met. ❞ Bree mimicked the gesture, placing her hand over her heart and offering a small bow. ❝ Alaara Norixius? I've heard your name often in the corridors and from the professors. It's just my luck that I happened to stumble into your establishment. Is performing on your stage something close to a rite of passage for fledgling bards then? ❞

[suchgreathits]

I Can See Clearly Now

Muted lights overhead softened the feel of the foyer of my childhood home. A mansion of sorts, no expense spared when you had a pair of surgeons for parents, the usual coldness that accompanied every visit had been transformed by the holiday decorations covering the room in a tasteful, homey warmth.

To my right, I could hear the murmurs of my mom’s voice, no doubt giving another set of instructions to the housekeeper. Hearing the front door shut with a soft click, the gentle pressure of my hip stopping at the sound, I delayed the reunion further, fingertips absentmindedly tracing along the walls bordering each side, noticing the assortment of family photos artfully arranged on the walls.

Although my parents had divorced decades years ago, there was still a complete collection of group pictures that including my dad. I had always been closer to him despite the fact that he still supported my mom’s stance when it came to my career choices. Anything other than medicine, specifically surgery, was not a wise nor acceptable choice.

Nonetheless, here I was several years out of college with only a bachelor’s degree under my belt and no steady career to speak of. According to my family and their colleagues, I should be far from happy or successful.

Despite the lack of career, husband, or family at my age, I defied their claims of what constituted happiness and success. Having spent the entire autumn in a small town a few hours away and finding it more of a home than within the walls where I stood, it was a fond discovery.

A crisp click of heels neared where I had stopped in thought, a familiar face coming into view. Apparently, my arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed as I had assumed.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my only daughter.”

Bony arms surrounded me briefly in a stiff embrace, and I mustered a small smile while I returned the hug and greeting.

“And my one and only dear mom.”

We appraised each other briefly, our arms falling more comfortably to our sides, making small talk while I followed her back into the kitchen. A scent of coffee lingered in the air, and my eyes closed briefly as I recognized and relished the familiarity of it.

She prattled on, listing the numerous events filling her schedule leading up to Christmas. As she was well past retirement age, most of her hours were spent outside of the hospital now, and she enjoyed filling her time with social events.

There was a disturbance behind me, and my thoughts returned to the present. Now the housekeeper was busying herself preparing some of the very same coffee I had just been longing for.

“Come, Bree. Let’s move into the living room while we wait for the coffee.”

One last glance around what was always my favorite room in the house, and I then left in the direction of my mom’s voice. She was continuing to drone on as if silence was not possible except in sleep.

Once seated beside her, I was surprised by a sudden wave of emotion while I studied her face more closely. Every line etched in her delicate skin spoke of the life she had lived. She had never remarried as my dad had, and I wondered how she had dealt with the loneliness.

It was a good thing I had come to visit her and stay for awhile. I had a unsettling suspicion she was hiding something from me and my brothers, possibly to avoid any unnecessary worry on our parts.

What was going on? Maybe she would inform us when we gathered on Christmas Eve. Worry descended upon me, but I kept a smile on my lips while we spoke over cups of coffee. For now I would enjoy the rare moment we shared with just the two of us. 

- Written December 13, 2019

[otheroutlandertales]

Catch up on previous installments: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

En Même Temps - Part 6

by @theministerskat

Outer Banks, North Carolina, January 29, 1971

Brianna gazed out the passenger window of her Mustang, the Outer Banks a green and blue blur of ocean and grass as the car sped down Highway 12.

The events of the last eleven days were a jumble, blending together with all the possibilities she envisioned for them beyond the stones. An obscure reel of thoughts with no clear focus.  

Trying to calm the racing in her head, she stroked her thumb along the underside of her left finger, slowly twirling the ring that sat there in a circle. It was a new habit she had picked up, touching it, reminding herself it was still real, finding comfort in the small action in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It anchored her, more than anything, representing one thing - the only thing - certain in her life.

Turning away from the coastal scenery, she peered over at Roger. Softly, he sang along to a Stone’s song on the radio, his fingertips tapping the beat on the steering wheel. She smiled, recalling the image of him unconsciously twirling his fingers about in the pocket of his trousers, playing with the ring for all those weeks, and wondered if it had brought him the same kind of solace it now brought her.

She leaned her head back against the window, glancing out it again. The emerald stone was warm when she ran her finger over it, and tilting her hand slightly, she noticed how it lit from within when the sun struck it. Its dark green color transformed to a brilliant sparkling shade, reminding her of summer in the Highlands.

A small part of her ached to be back there now; driving along the tight country roads with Roger, him prattling on about local history and landmarks, both of them laughing together without a care in the world. Had things been different, perhaps they would have honeymooned in Scotland just as her parents had. The thought suddenly occurred to her: both of her mother's honeymoons had been there; and with that came a nervous anticipation of what might await her and Roger.

Trying to ignore the complicated feelings that surfaced whenever she thought on the subject, she reached for Roger’s restless hand. He noticed her movement and took his eyes off the road for just a moment to smile at her. His hand enveloped hers, and he lifted it to his mouth. She felt the warmth of his breath as he brushed his lips over the knuckles of her fingers. He planted a second kiss where her ring sat, and a flush radiated up her arm and through her body at his touch.

He had made that same gesture of love countless times since the night he proposed, but now she was reminded of how he had done it once they’d exchanged their vows.

The wedding had been perfect, despite how quickly it had been put together. Obtaining a marriage license on short notice had been easy, though Roger had insisted on at least trying to find a priest or minister who would be able to wed them. They eventually found a small Presbyterian church with a reverend who was free that very Saturday.

Upon their first meeting, she had noticed the older man eyeing her stomach every few minutes, as if trying to discern the slightest hint of a baby bump, an explanation for their haste. Brianna had shot daggers at him every time she caught him doing so, and Roger shook, trying to stifle his laughter at her indignation, breaking into a fit of coughs several times to cover himself.

She had worn a simple cream pantsuit, unable to find a dress that fit her properly on such short notice. Roger had donned himself in full Highland regalia - a questionable packing choice when they had left Oxford, Bree not seeing the necessity in bringing his MacKenzie tartan all the way to Boston only to be packed up in a box for storage.

But she had laughed with pure joy when he had tried it on the night before the ceremony, his face beaming with Scottish pride. Brianna had teased him over the fact that he would be the one wearing the dress at their wedding instead of her, which she quickly learned was a mistake. That comment had earned her a fifteen minute lecture on the benefits of wearing a kilt over trousers, which culminated in one of those benefits being demonstrated for her, much to her delight and pleasure.

Brianna had asked Joe to walk her down the aisle and stand in witness for them. The amount of joy and love that had exuded from him as he kissed her cheek at the altar made her heart swell for her mother’s oldest friend.

Their vows had been simple, traditional, the words hardly altered over hundreds of years. The speaking of them was like pulling a thread tenuously binding the past and present. They held that fragile thread between them now as they embarked on their journey. When the reverend had pronounced them husband and wife, Roger pulled her close, kissing her just a moment too long to be considered decent, and her head devoid of any thought beyond her new husband.

Joe and Gail had taken them out to dinner to celebrate. Joe regaled the small party with stories of Brianna as a child, drawing from the reservoir of tales Claire had shared with him over the years. It was an evening spent not with plans and preparations for the future, or past, but in the moment.

Her heart constricted as she remembered her last conversation with Joe before they parted that night.

Pulling her aside as they left the small restaurant, he wrapped her in a hug that made her feel small even as she stood two inches taller than him.

“You’re going after her, aren’t you?” Joe’s lowered voice permeated the fog of happiness Brianna was floating in, and it took her a second to process his words.

“She told you?” Brianna knew her mother had revealed the truth about Jamie Fraser to him, but she was breathless at being able to talk about it at last.

“She did.” He pulled back from her to look into her eyes, his brow creased in concern, and she didn’t try to hide the confirmation he would surely find there. “Are you sure it’s safe, Bree?”

She opened her mouth to assure him, but found no words of comfort, could not tell him the truth, even as she knew he sensed it.

“I understand why she had to do it.” A sad smile appeared on Joe’s face. “But you, you don’t have to. You know she’s happy, and you have a life here.”

“Joe.” Bree’s voice sounded desperate even to her own ears, willing him to understand. “Roger - he found something. I don’t want to worry you with the details, but I have to go.”

“And he’s going with you?”

She glanced over Joe’s shoulder and saw Roger standing beside Gail. She was chatting cheerily away in a congratulatory fashion, and he was nodding at every other word, though his eyes were focused on Brianna.

Confidence surged through her, and she realized that though they had made all these arrangements and planned for all of the situations they may face, she was still holding a sliver of doubt over what they were doing. But Roger had promised to make sure she had everything she needed to go back, and had fulfilled that promise. She felt a love for him beyond anything she had known before.

She nodded in response to Roger’s look, and Joe took it as an affirmative to his question.

“Would you have done this,” he gestured his hand about, and she understood his meaning, “If you weren’t facing a life or death decision?”

“Yes,” she said without any hesitation. “Yes.”

“Well, that makes me feel better. He looks at you like he’d be willing to take on anything to protect you. And where you’re going, you may need that.”

Brianna pulled him back into a tight embrace.

“Tell her I love her and miss her dearly.”

“I will.” Her voice cracked just a little as she unsuccessfully forced tears back. “Thank you, Joe.”

They’d left the next morning, her Mustang packed with only the things they needed for their journey. Roger made a few comments about proper weddings and decent honeymoons, but Brianna insisted that road trips made perfectly acceptable honeymoon vacations.

They drove down the Atlantic coast, taking their time, stopping in Edenton and New Bern - two possible ports they would reach after traveling through the stones. Then they made their way south to Wilmington, spending a couple of nights there to acquaint themselves with the area as much as they could, though they knew things would be different in the past. Those few days were spent in a relaxed state of mind, enjoying small touristy moments with Roger, and she was feeling more rested and at ease than she had expected as Imbolc approached.

But now they were on their way to Hatteras Island, the final stop before the stones. Roger squeezed her hand, and she turned to look at him.

“Not much further. What do ye think about just finding a place to stay and turning in early? Enough time to sort matters tomorrow.”

The sun was already starting to dip in the western sky though it was only mid-afternoon, and Bree realized how tired the car ride had made her.

“That sounds nice. I don’t think I’d be of much use to do anything else.”

He nodded, his fingers brushing over her knuckles once again. And a sudden realization swept over her.

“Roger! My ring!” Her voice was loud and panicked, causing him to snap his head down to look at her ring and then up to her face in confusion.

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t take it with me! It’ll be lost going through the stones.” She felt the tears roll down her cheeks before she even knew she was crying. The simple ring that had given her strength would be lost the moment she touched the stone.

Brianna tried to stop herself, but every worry and fear she had been trying to stamp down came flooding to the surface. She was terrified of all the things that could go wrong: not making it through, ending up in the wrong time, never being able to make it back . . . Weeks’ worth of worry released itself in a gush of emotion.

Roger let go of her hand, and she wiped furiously at the tears. He pulled the car off the road and shifted into park, and then extended his arms to pull her close to him. She let her body melt into his, thankful for the solid feel of him against her. He uttered soft Gaelic words into her hair until her cheeks were dry.

“Bree, Bree. I meant for this,” he held up her hand, indicating the ring. “I meant for this stone to be the one to see the safe through those stones.”

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it?” Her voice was calmer than she expected it to be, though she felt a slight sense of betrayal on his part. “But Roger, it was your mother’s ring!”

“I know, but we need the gem to get through safely.”

“And what about you then?” It was the one she had forgotten to double check in their preparations, and she was upset but thankful that Roger had handled it.

“I have her locket for me.”

“So you’re fine with them being turned to dust?” she accused, perhaps more bitingly than she intended.

“I think she would be happy to know they were being used to see her son and his wife safe.” His mouth turned up into a sly smile when he said wife. “So, it’s fine, aye?”

She began to relax, her pulse slowing to its normal rate, and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, okay.”

“So, let’s get to town and turn in for the night, sound good?”

“Okay.”

She stayed curled into his side the last mile of the trip, then fell into the lumpy mattress of their motel room, and finally let sleep carry her away from her worries.

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

zombies + text posts (pt 2)

(1 3)

[hitchell-mope]

Decent, albeit predictably heavy handed, threequel. Now onto film four.

[anoutlandishfanfic]

4x10 Missing Moment.

This started out with an “I need Claire to at least mention Bree wearing her clothes” conversation with @thefraserwitch and spiraled into the following.

Trigger Warning: Bree and Claire discuss Faith and Claire’s miscarriage. Nothing is graphic, but it does come up and I know this is a sensitive subject.

Fraser’s Ridge.

“Were you sick? With me?” Bree groaned.

Reaching out my hand, I helped her to her feet and steadied her as she wiped her mouth. She usually managed to finish eating her breakfast before surrendering it to the bushes, but something hadn’t set quite right this morning and when Rollo proudly strutted through the open door with his latest fragrant treasure, Bree left the table at a speed I didn’t know she had in her.

She gave a reproachful look at a squirrel who’d witnessed the event before turning to me for reassurance, “It does go away, right?”

“Well,” I smiled wryly as I pulled her into my arms, “mine stuck around longer than it does for most.”

“But it does go away.”

“Mhmm,” I intoned, placing a kiss atop her head.

Bree sighed heavily, but made no move to step out of my embrace and I held her for many moments. She fit so perfectly into my arms, into our life here on the ridge. I wanted to hold on tight to these moments, to commit every second of  this time I had with her to memory. I didn’t want her to leave us, even though I knew she must.

The wind suddenly picked up and swirled our skirts about us. The hem of Bree’s blue plaid chased my brown homespun around my feet, stirring up a memory from long ago.

Lallybroch.

I could see the very same plaid brush across the tops of my boots as we wandered the estate hand in hand. I could feel the wool against my skin as I moved my skirts aside, welcoming my husband to his rightful place as Laird. I could smell the sun baked earth and the blooms of Jenny’s garden, the perfumed soap Jamie washed with and the lingering musk that was decidedly him.

“I should have brought you there,” I murmured wistfully, adding, “to Lallybroch, I mean.. when we were in Scotland… after you knew the truth.”

Bree shook her head against me, insisting,  “It was better to see it the way it is now, how you remembered it… not like what it will become in our time.”

I sighed, my arms tightening around her for a moment before letting go, taking a step back and helping her brush a few leaves from her skirt before lifting my hands to cup her face.

“I’m glad you went… and I love that my clothes fit you.”

“Me too,” Bree smiled up at me, although it’s light didn’t quite reach her eyes. She studied me for a moment and then her gaze flicked away, her mind somewhere far afield.

I let the wheels turn for a moment and led her over to the bench that sat against the south side of the cabin. I’d found her in the spot often and it was a favorite of mine as well. The sun shone against the dark logs all day, creating a warm oasis protected against both the wind and anyone who may intrude upon a sought after moment of solitude.

“You’ve made up your mind,” I surmised and squeezed her hand after a comfortable quiet settled around us.

Bree nodded, but kept her gaze on the forest before us as she pulled my hand into her lap, clasping it tightly between both of hers. I felt her tremble slightly as she explained, “I can’t… not if there’s a chance it’s Roger’s.”

“Oh, Bree,” I sighed, my heart breaking all over again.

“I mean, you did it,” she shrugged. “You raised me without Jamie… and I turned out alright.”

I shook my head, trying to pull my hand from hers, to make her see how it was different, but she cut me off and held fast to my hand.

“I’m doing this, Mama,” her head snapped to look at me. “This child is mine just as much as it is his and you of all people should understand that!”

“I do, baby,” I whispered hoarsely.

Tears sprang to her eyes as her grip on me loosened, “Please don’t call me that.”

I nodded and swallowed hard, not trusting my voice, but she continued.

“Before you left, I said that I was more like you than I was either of my fathers… and I meant it,” her gaze dropped to her lap and her thumb began to work smooth circles on the back of my hand, just as I had done to her so many times when she needed comfort.

“But now I understand it.”

A hiccuping sigh left her lips as she prattled, “I understand why you left Jamie to protect me… why you gave it all up, why you would sacrifice your own happiness to make sure I was safe.”

Bree looked up, her chin quivering and her eyes bright.

“I would do anything, Mama… anything for this baby.”

“I know, luv,” I murmured.

She let go of my hand with a nod, her words spent, and we both settled into an easy silence. Bree’s head tipped back against the rough wall behind us, her face lifting to soak up the sun’s warms as her eyes slid shut. Her hand, now devoid of mine, reverently skimmed across the plane of her womb. I remembered well the almost unconscious action, the magnetic draw of a mother’s hand to the secret place where their child nestled beneath their heart.

A bird flitted by and landed on the the corner post of my garden fence. It tittered and trilled out it’s tune for us, tugging at the corners of Bree’s mouth until she sat smiling beside me, but my stomach clenched as I recognized it’s song. I held my breath as I watched it preen and puff up its feathers, only letting it out again with a sigh as it flew off and out of sight.

God go wi’ ye, mother.

There was a plover that frequented our front garden in Boston, somehow always showing itself when I needed it most. In reality, I’m sure it wasn’t the same bird every time, but it’s tiny presence remind me of Jamie… of his love for me and the love we’d lost in our first born. Spring was always hard, the riotous surge of new birth contrasting starkly with the reminder of their absence, but it was the visitation of a plover that never failed to knock my knees out from underneath me.

I saw Faith in Bree’s smile, in the few cesareans I performed in my time at the hospital, in paired sisters laughing hand in hand... What would they have been like together, my two free spirits? Would they have been inseparable, sharing each other’s secrets and the best of friends?

Caught up in memories of the past, I didn’t notice Bree studying me until she murmured, “What are you thinking about, Mama?”

I shook my head slowly, turning back to her with a wobbly smile as I patted her knee.

“Your sister.”

Understanding dawned in an instant as she remembered our brief conversation so long ago. Bree’s voice dropped to a hush, her gaze softening.

“Did… did you ever figure out why? After, I mean. While you were at medical school or at the hospital?”

I nodded, remembering the hard fist that pummeled me square in my stomach when I found it in one of my many textbooks.

“I would have been diagnosed with a placental abruption, had I been in a modern hospital,” I spoke the name aloud for the first time. “The baby’s placenta began to bleed and separated from my uterine wall.”

“I’d had some spotting before it happened and I knew something was wrong, but… They couldn’t have done anything to save her, really, even in our time. Maybe only prevented the infection that followed.”

Bree’s voice was strained as she clarified, “It’s not... hereditary, then?”

“Oh, luv, no!”

The relief that washed over her face broke my heart.

“You should have told me you were worried,” I crooned. “There is absolutely no reason why your baby won’t be born safely… you’re young and healthy, sweetie. My doctors weren’t even doctors and I’d been poisoned, among other things. There is no reason for you to lose this baby like I did.”

“Wait, you were what?”

“Poisoned,” I rolled my eyes. “The court at Versailles was every bit as treacherous as you learned in school.”

“Mama!”

“What?” I arched a brow with a hint of a smile.

Bree gaped at me, incredulous, “Why didn’t you tell me you were at Versailles?!”

“Well, it wasn’t as if I enjoyed my time there.”

She chuckled wryly, “No, I don’t suppose you did.”

Bree looked so very wise beyond her years, sitting here beside me. The weight of motherhood was already settling across her shoulders and my heart lurched as I realized, yet again, just how much my baby had grown up. I reached for her hand and she let me take it as I brought us back to topic… my baby was having a baby.

“What happened to me will not happen to you, Bree,” I promised.

She nodded hesitantly and I pulled her into my arms, cradling her head against my shoulder as I choked out, “I won’t let it.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

After this last episode with the making the 'batsuit' scene you should totally do a story about the first time Claire made some sort of costume for Bree

For the first time in my life, I cursed my juvenile disinterest in sewing. As a child, I’d mended clothes out of sheer necessity, the rigor of constant travel taking its toll on my shirts and trousers. I had cared little for skill back then, regarding the whole affair as a tedious chore that kept me from more important duties—namely, dusting off bones for Lamb.

As an adult, I was a surgeon, but even that seemed to do me no favors. Despite my professional expertise—how many wounds had I stitched with far sharper tools on far more delicate materials? —it seemed I still couldn’t manage a bloody Halloween costume. In previous years, I’d simply bought one or asked Millie, our neighbor, for a helping hand at the cost of a bottle of wine.

My break from tradition was inspired by a recent conversation, whereupon it was revealed—to the horror of several Betty Crocker types—I had no plans to slave over a Singer for the sake of my daughter’s trick-or-treating.

“Oh, but you must,” one woman had said.

“Your child would so appreciate it,” another had chimed in.

“She’ll be the only one whose mother didn’t make her costume.”

I’d rather thought Bree wouldn’t notice either way, she being the sort who’d drape a sheet over her head, stare through two circular cut-outs, and cry “Boo!” as if she were the most convincing ghost in the world. But the women’s scornful expressions had stayed with me, stirring up feelings I hadn’t felt since I’d arrived in America: a nagging self-consciousness; a desperate need to prove myself.

Bree was ecstatic when I informed her that I, not Millie, would be making her costume this Halloween, and what was it she’d like to be? Frank’s incessant prattling about the monarchy had clearly made an impression. Of all things, Bree had chosen Queen Elizabeth II, who’d been crowned the year before.

If I’d known how complicated it would be, I might have scrapped the project altogether and thrust expensive merlot in Millie’s face. Being without such hindsight, I now had a half-constructed dress that looked more like a war casualty than a royal ballgown.

“You sodding bastard,” I barked at the sewing machine.

My daughter, sitting not five feet away, looked up from her book with a delighted smirk. I groaned, already envisioning the moment Frank would walk through the door, greeted by an oral report of the day’s linguistic infractions (most of them mine). Though Bree shared her biological father’s penchant for mischief, she’d adopted the English reserve of the man who raised her. With frequent lapses, of course—she, after all, was my child too.

“Mama,” she tsked now, “you know what that means…” Smiling, she pointed towards the table beneath the window, which sat littered with the odds and ends of our daily life. The dried stems of pressed flowers sprouted from a medical textbook. A dog toy, practically chewed into oblivion, sat beside Frank’s corn cob pipe—a habit he’d taken up as a way of ingratiating himself to Harvard’s social circles. At the center of it all, however, stood the glass jar whose cheery label, “SWEAR BANK,” had become the bane of my existence.

Two weeks ago, Frank and I had been called to Bree’s school on the grounds of discussing a recent misbehavior. Our daughter, it seemed, had a fondness for words that were unsuitable to a woman of 35, much less a girl of 6. The principal’s meaningful looks had plainly indicated he knew where—or from whom—Brianna had received her vocabulary lessons.

“Children, you know,” he’d said, leaning forwards. “They don’t just learn these things by themselves. I think some disciplinary action could be taken at home…”

And so it was by Principal Gellar’s suggestion that we—the Randalls of ill repute—came to use a swear jar. For every curse, the delinquent had to add two quarters, with each subsequent offense requiring double that amount. A mild punishment, I’d thought, until it was obvious that losing pocket change wasn’t sufficient inducement to watch my own mouth.

Because of this, it was agreed that I prepare a proper dinner—from scratch, not frozen—if I exceeded my daily max of five swear words. Frank promised to exchange his loose leaf tea for Lipton’s, should he do the same, though this was more a demonstration of his superiority than his solidarity. Unless provoked, he rarely said more than the occasional “damn” in Bree’s presence.

Rummaging through the purse at my feet, I extracted money from my wallet.

“There,” I said, giving it to Bree. “Happy?”

Bills in one hand, Bree counted her fingers on the other, “That’s six today, Mama,” she said, still smirking. “So what’s for dinner?”

I snorted and motioned her towards me. “Well, if you want this costume finished, I’ll have to take a rain check.” I looked at the chaos strewn about my work table. “A two-week rain check.”

“I guess that’s okay,” Bree said, skipping over to my side. “Daddy and I will have meatloaf tonight, and you can have soap.”

I laughed. It always baffled me how my child—once a gurgling thing with an untamable cowlick—had transformed into a human capable of swear words and jokes.

As they always did when Bree came close, one of her hands automatically rested on my head, tiny fingers submerging themselves in a tousle of curls. They found the tender patch behind my ears, beginning an idle massage that expelled all tension from my body.

She’d done this as a baby—then, with a naïve curiosity; now, by the simple force of habit. It reminded me of someone else, though I knew it was merely coincidence and not some genetic trait passed down through the centuries. Still, the small fingers always grew larger in my mind—pads turned to callous and nails made blunt—as they moved in slow, gentle circles towards my temples. I could hear Gaelic, spoken softly, and see a calmness wash over a startled horse, as it now washed over me.

I shook the memory away, and returned to the disaster cascading into my lap.

Really, there was no hope for it. Uneven hems. Too-large and crooked stitches. The circumference of one shirtsleeve would fit someone’s thigh, not Bree’s skinny arm.

“Smudge,” I sighed, “perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. I mean—” I gestured at the clumsy mess before me, and Bree removed her hand.

She leaned closer, head tilted to examine the work I’d done until her expression turned into one of obvious resolve. “I could always be a hobo,” she said matter-of-factly. “Or a garbage man.”

In that moment, I swear I had never loved her more.

Clearly unconcerned, Bree flopped down on the couch, and asked, “What’d you dress up as when you were a kid, Mama?”

“Come to think of it, I can only remember one Halloween,” I said, sitting back. “I was a little older than you, and my outfit was a hodge-podge of things. Somewhere between Indiana Jones and a girl who raided a closet, blindfolded.”

As a vagabond who drifted from continent and continent, Halloween never seemed to cross Lamb’s mind. A brief lecture, perhaps, about its pagan origins—but there was none of the pomp and circumstance one would see today. Being only vaguely aware of the holiday’s existence myself, I had never found us lacking for it. Our days were already filled with adventures, strange characters, and the spirits of years past.

It was one of Lamb’s colleagues—a charismatic American named Tom—who put forth the notion we hold a celebration of our own. Even I, who by this time was more adult than child, couldn’t resist the idea of being someone else, swapping ghost stories under a full moon, and gorging myself on sweets.

Lamb, bless his soul, was more than happy to oblige me. It was a belated birthday present of sorts, as October 20th, 1926 had passed in whirlwind of sand and dirt. The more immediate concerns of suffocation and hazardous winds had taken precedence over cake and candles that day.

Lamb and Tom took me to the market one morning, each of us bouncing from stall to stall to inspect the wares. After hours of browsing, we’d managed to scrape together a rudimentary costume, though it had none of the frills, silks, or skirts Tom had assumed I’d want.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be a princess?” he’d said, regarding me sideways. At the insistent (and fiftieth) shake of my head, Lamb had clapped Tom on the back with a jovial smile, reminding him that I was a girl who preferred slouch hats to tiaras. I recall grinning up at him, then, and taking his hand as we walked back to camp. In truth, I think I’d just wanted to be Lamb for a night.

And so there I was days later: a poor man’s cowgirl astride an invisible horse, galloping through the nearby village in search of treats. Naturally, few people were prepared for the presence of my wild-eyed, boyish self at their door. But most smiled at my requests—all spoken with a pitiful Southern twang—and indulged me with whatever they could spare. Lamb, meanwhile, stood at my side—an elderly pirate-guard who assured them we were not, in fact, bandits.

We returned to camp at sundown with a sack full of furry, odorous, and glittering miscellany slung across my shoulder. Against all sense, someone had given me a pack of cigars, and I placed one between my lips. Knees braced and arranging my hands into a finger gun, I did my best Butch Cassidy impression as Lamb inspected the bag for other inappropriate goods.

“That stuff ain’t yours, old man,” I’d said, words mumbled by the cigar. “Stick ‘em up.”

Lamb had hooted, crying, “Excellent, my dear! Just marvelous!” and took a seat across the fire. His head bent before a lit match, the flame lighting the end of one of the contraband cigars.

What I remember most, though, was his face when he looked up at me. My cheeks were flushed beneath a layer of grime. My too-long pants were pooled around my feet, while my dark hair was pulled into a bushy ponytail. I imagine I’d been the image of freedom and recklessness—a person who appreciated the simplest of joys, like dress-up and too much sugar.

“You’ve always favored your mother, Claire. But I daresay that right now…” And here, Lamb’s eyes had shimmered, his expression grown suddenly soft. “Right now I see so much of your father in you.”

“Mama?” A voice broke through the haze of my memory. “Mama, were you listening to me?”

“Hmm?” I said distractedly, slowly returning to the present. Shaking her head, Bree said, “Maybe next year I could be a cowgirl too?” before launching onto an entirely different topic.

Seeing my daughter chatting confidently away, her hands fluttering with the excitement of conversation, of being with someone…Seeing her hair catch the sinking sun and the mischief inside her curving mouth—a mouth that would never cease to amaze me with its jokes and its compliments and its observations. Seeing these things, and how her slanted blue eyes took in her shabby costume—unbothered by its inelegance but appreciative of the work I’d put into it—I thought I saw so much of her father in her too.

[austennerdita2533]

Day 1: Crossovers/Fusions

A/N: For Day 1 of KC AU Week, I have succumbed to the temptation (and the nudge-nudging from some of you) and wrote a Pride and Prejudice fusion. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Many of you know I’m obsessed with Jane Austen so I feel like this was inevitable at some point? (Regency AU)

Also for the lovely Maf, @kickassfu. This could use more editing, but I got tired of staring at it haha. *Fingers crossed* I’ll be able to write you something else for your birthday later this week. 

(FF.net)

Happy reading!

xx Ashlee Bree  

A Lady’s Tongue is Quite Rapid

In a small town like Mysticton, to engage in gossip about one’s neighbors was a sport of sorts. It meant, that much like fencing, no one was exempted from a sparring strike which could expose some truth about his/her disposition or reputation to the rest of the villagers. No one.

In fact, it was of little consequence to the surrounding residents as to what, or where, or about whom this ‘sharing’ included so long as the topic was titillating, the person was some combination of scandalous or mysterious, and the discussion was breached artfully: with tact, with sophistication. Such a practice was allowed in trifles—encouraged, rather—but only so far as it did not tread upon common decency. After all, there was nothing more impudent to members of respectable society than rudeness or vulgarity.

Since the English valued propriety above all, therefore, it was an unspoken rule amongst them that gossip was to be whispered and never trumpeted. It was meant to be censored not flaunted. It mattered not whether folks were from the city or the country, nor from what class or rank from which they hailed, but that they knew best how and when to be inconspicuous. And none in this world of manners, as it happened, commandeered the art of whispering more effectively than the fairer sex.

…Most of the time, anyway.

“Come now, Caroline,” Miss Katherine trilled from the edge of her wine glass, her mouth cut in a minx-like expression. “You cannot deny the striking set of his features with that rough, angular jawline and those eyes so blue and cavernous, they could trap a girl in the dark forever. He’s quite delectable in a way, would you not agree?”

The young lady smoothed a loose blonde curl against her temple.

“Handsome or not, a man who offers nothing but snarling personality at first sight holds no charms for me. We’d never suit. Besides,” she clucked, “I find his snobbery almost unendurable.”

“Now, now, don’t cast him off so readily.”

“Why ever not? You know how much stock I place on early impressions,” Caroline said.

“Firstly, he’s rich and titled. Secondly, he knows how to strut in a pair of tailored breeches. And thirdly,” Katherine continued while Miss Forbes rolled her eyes, “not all of us are who we appear to be amongst people we don’t know well. Though you’re loath to believe it, friend, he may prove to be much more intriguing than you suspect at present.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Ah, except I am.” Her fingers tapped along the wall behind her, her expression clouding, her thoughts drifting away, “Perhaps he’s emotionally withdrawn for good reason?” she proposed.

A sneer. “Conceited, unsociable, and taciturn for no reason, you mean!”

Katherine leveled a look at her companion, her lips compressed from want of laughter at this vehement outburst.

“Why, I don’t believe I’ve known you to chide anyone so disparagingly in my life! If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d say this fellow has sunk his teeth beneath your skin and has hit a discordant vein you find oddly compelling.”

“That is absurd,” Caroline answered.

“Is it?” Miss Pierce’s tone was suggestive, stoking her companion’s composure enough that she gaped and colored.

“Yes!” Crossing her arms defensively, Miss Caroline turned up her nose when she met Katherine’s eye, her cheeks burning hot with indignation at such a claim. “I’ll have you know I find his incense and irritable nature entirely unbecoming. I can hardly stand the man!”

“Careful, love,” a lilting voice cut in.

Large masculine hands skimmed across the waist of her dress then, lingering for a moment too long. Fingers tapped in and out of the royal blue creases that stretched against her lower back. It made her gooseflesh pimple.

Breath tickled hot near her ear as a slender blond man in a evergreen waistcoat slipped from his post in a hidden doorway to make his way past her and back toward the fray. “I’m afraid my temper’s flared for a lot less censure than that,” he said.

“Wha—I—how dare you not make yourself known, sir!”

He turned. Arched an eyebrow.

“And interrupt all the salacious gossip? Why, that would have been rude,” he parried, lips twitching.

“Then what, pray tell, do you call insinuating yourself into an intimate discourse that never included you in the first place?” Caroline crossed her arms. “Etiquette?” she scoffed.

“Hardly.”

“Then what? Illuminate me. Please,” she gestured, “I beg of you.”

His eyes livened into two round, gold disks as he took in her flustered countenance, as he discerned the contempt in her balled fists.

“Clever,” he answered. “I’d call engaging with you clever, Miss Caroline.”

He dimpled slightly when he pronounced her name, drawing out the syllables.Then, after he gave a gallant bow which bordered on goading, he left the two of them to ruminate over his last remark and rejoined his family members who perched before the large arched windows in the center of the ballroom.

Caroline huffed.

So she’d ‘barely tolerable’d’ a near stranger with an indiscreet slip of the tongue. And what? Was she expected to skulk to a nearby corner, her face blotched with color; aghast, humiliated, and regretful? Was she supposed to apologize for her uncouth remarks all because the indignant fool—a man whom had refused to be properly acquainted with any of the ladies in  town since he’d first arrived, by the way, herself included—decided to loiter in the shadows and eavesdrop on a private conversation she’d conducted with her dearest friend, Katherine, in a secluded corner of the room? Ha. She wouldn’t stoop low enough to give him the satisfaction!

Besides, what she’d said was the truth. Not gossip. As far as she was concerned, he and that stormy smirk of his earned spite from this entire ballroom full of people. Deserved it, too! The smug, insufferable man.

Katherine let out a puff of air. “Well, that was…”

“Inexcusable!” Miss Forbes finished for her. “Can you believe the gall of that sneering Mr.—Mr. whatever his name is!?”

“I find him refreshing.”

“Oh, please!”

“What?”

“He is so not a gentleman.”

“And?”

Nonplussed, Caroline sucked in a breath and pressed a gloved palm to her head, shaking it. Katherine rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t act so scandalized,” she said. “There are enough droll poppycocks among us in Hertfordshire as it is. We are not in want of another.”

“And that somehow makes a louse like him preferable company? Sorry,” she retorted with a dismissive laugh, “but I beg to differ.”

Ignoring this, slinking her elbow around Caroline’s, Miss Pierce cut them free of their temporary wallflower status by navigating them back through the throngs of people and toward the edge of the dance floor in the hopes she could claw one of them, if not both, a spare partner.

“Anyway, who wants a gentleman tonight in the off chance you can dangle yourself from one of him instead?” she said with a bump of her hip and a grin toward a dark-haired gentleman adorned in militia red and brass buttons.

Caroline sighed. “Are good looks and dancing all that matter to you this evening? Or does that requirement extend to the securing of a future husband as well?”

“Good fortune factors into my marriage prospects, too, dearest. We mustn’t forget that,” her friend winked, taking the officer’s hand to join the reel, “especially with these Moneybag Mikaelsons in town now.”

“What nonsensical prattle you do speak, Kat!”

“Nonsense, wit—” she purred, “such a fine line, Care.” Then, with a punctuated twirl, she disappeared into a sea of couples.

Caroline flourished her friend with a wave of adieu interspersed with a head-shaking smile before she moved to fetch herself a fresh glass of wine, her feet in need of a rest plus a little something to dull the ache. Relief flooded through her at the prospect of a few minutes alone to admire the party’s splendor. And to reflect.

Personally, though she refrained from sharing this information out loud in an effort to avoid her mother’s ‘what will become of you’ hysterics, she wished the entire family would deposit themselves and their moneybags back in London for good. Leaving their little country town with its quaint manners and civilities in peace.

The truth was simple: the Mikaelson’s arrival had thrown the entire village into uproar!For, not only were they in possession of profound wealth, rank, and prestige as well as in ownership of Evermoore (one of the oldest, most well-established estates in all of England), but four of the seven of siblings—three gentlemen and one lady—were single and of marriageable age; and, moreover, were either already established in esteemed professions or set to inherit thousands of pounds. As a result of this, every last eligible suitor in the county schemed and clamored all over themselves for an opportunity to woo. Some of them resorting to flattery so absurd, and so heinously insincere, Caroline baulked at their desperate displays.

And all for what? The vain hope they could, perhaps, by some miraculous design of stupidity or frivolity, procure themselves an advantageous marriage?

It was completely and absolutely insane! Asinine, really.

She wanted no part in this courting circus. Not for her, and certainly not for her beloved town.

It was half past time for the Mikaelsons to leave—but not because she disliked them or anything. On the contrary. In fact, amid a month’s worth of acquaintance, she’d found them to be stimulating company.

Admiral Kol Mikaelson, the youngest son once removed, boasted the most open temperament of his siblings and captivated society with a mischievous good humor. His dark eyes were forever crinkled, drunk off amusement; and his conversation was as inviting and as pleasing as the proffered hand he gave Miss Bonnie Bennett when he asked her to ‘teach [him] the steps of a country quadrille’ after a game of whist his first night there. He was the idlest of the bunch, however, and chose to scour the seas not for pirates but for ports (the more clandestine and egregious the better). Fond of drink, gaiety, and women, he travelled the world with his ship’s sails raised in search of adventure and entertainment, teasing his way from land to land.

He laughed heartily, danced readily, and drank heavily. Indulgence and spontaneity were the tenets he lived by—the pleasures of the world made to be worn thin by his gluttony. With a gambler’s spirit, he infected those around him with a reckless flurry of activity they either gravitated toward or shunned completely.  

Colonel Elijah Mikaelson, too, was sophisticated, courteous, and fashionable. He held himself with an honorable grace befitting of a second-born son and gentleman. Albeit, at times, in part because of his military background, his stoicism was a little intimidating. He had a tendency to pepper his dialogue with curt, off-hand remarks that tumbled wryly, frostily, from his mouth. It caused some folks to label him wrongly as impassive; where in truth, he was simply guarded in expressions of sensibility. A compassionate warmth blazed behind his eyes if one knew where to look, softening him considerably. And although he seemed less than inclined to partake in silliness, he had a shrewd mind which made him both approachable and engaging, his penchant for musical skill as fine-tuned as a violinist’s tightened orchestra strings.

Unlike her elder brothers, however, Miss Rebekah Mikaelson, the youngest save ten-year-old Henrik, was a bit more prickly around the edges. Pampered as well. She was not intrinsically disagreeable in any regard, mind you, but patronizing in a superficial way. Like she was sizing up a potential threat or an eventually ally with tip-toed caution any time she formed a new acquaintance. And until people provided her with either a cause to smile, or to snarl, she treated them all with the same detached disdain—letting only the deserving in to relish her playful attentions and amity.

Beauty favored her as well. It manifested in the form of fair, silky tresses and creamy sun-kissed skin; in adornments of all the latest fashions: rich, heavy silks swaying from her hips, necklines stitched in fragile lace or beaded embellishments, dazzling jewels which were purchased from merchants abroad; and in sapphire eyes which coquetted almost as often as they puddled with insecurity. Her heart she wore outside of herself like an accessory that was much too easy to abscond. However, that being said, it colored her love in a ferocious, uninhibited kind of faithfulness that was endearing to anyone fortunate enough to receive it.

All in all, Miss Caroline found the unattached siblings to be rather intriguing. Almost liked them even…

Except for him, of course. Mr. Niklaus Mikaelson. The pompous, leering, annoyingly attractive middle son who rarely spoke but scrutinized everything and everyone around him by glaring—and by glaring incessantly.

Hawkishly, he watched Caroline from the darkest of corners of any room: his gaze moored, unrelenting, his jaw ticking along with each new flaw he recognized in her. Ugh! Talk about the epitome of miserable!

Frankly, she marveled at how he’d managed to survive in respectable society this long. Moreover, she puzzled over why young ladies like Miss Aurora and Miss Camille seemed more apt than not to swoon at his feet despite his clipped replies and his blatant disregard for their fluttering eyelashes, coy smiles, squeaked threads of conversation, and contrived performances which were meant to impress him with their moderate accomplishments. His indifference rolled off him in rivets, almost palpably. Yet still, they paddled before him like swans who believed he’d help them fly out of their ugly duckling ponds. Only…

That would never happen.

With the first born male of the family, Finn, devoting his life to the church and Elijah swearing his fealty to the military and the war effort shortly thereafter, Niklaus—or Klaus as he preferred to be addressed—had assumed the role as Evermoore’s heir after his parents’ tragic death five years ago. And while it was commendable that he’d achieved greater affluence for his family since then, rumors of a volatile father-son relationship, mood swings, and ruthlessness in business clung to him like wisps of shadow. Couple that with his grumbling intensity plus his refusal to mingle with any ‘common savages’ in either conversation or dance since he’d come to Mysticton, and the man’s character shouldn’t have faired well under public scrutiny.

‘Shouldn’t have’ being the operative words.

The fact of the matter was this: Mr. Mikaelson was an eligible commodity.

People everywhere tittered about his callous and formidable demeanor behind his back, only to then flatter him in person with manufactured compliments and fraudulent smiles. They powdered their noses, performed quartets, bowed, curtsied, and stood for hours by his side while he deafened them with protracted silence or scorn. Every single of them were nothing but gawking hypocrites with ‘thirty thousand a year!’ spinning in their eyes and minds. It was truly appalling.

And while Caroline supposed money and prestige held sway with a lot of single females, it was disgraceful how many of them excused his defects entirely. Ignored them, really.

Did they not have any self-respect? Any dignity? Did they not understand how no woman on earth would be good enough for such a self-important gentleman? Could they not comprehend that he was far too haughty, far too supercilious, to care about anything except the well-bred capital lining his pockets?

Caroline pitied them, truthfully. As a result, she promised herself she’d follow her own impeccable judgments where such a person was concerned. Her eyes were open, her mind made up:

A man like that would never be worth her time. Never!

“If you value your modesty, I’d advise you to scratch Mr. Damon Salvatore from your dance card indefinitely,” Miss Rebekah humphed as she plopped down next to Caroline on the settee, ruffled in air, and broke her introspection. “The lout has sly, wandering hands, and believe me, it troubles him not to use them.”

“In my defense, I tried to caution you about him.”

“Yes. And like the obstinate fool I am, I ignored you.”

“I’m sure you had good reason for that,” Miss Caroline answered, shrugging.

“Hardly.” The lady snickered. “I simply assumed you meant to discourage me so you could ensnare him for yourself.”

A full-bodied laugh. A pat of a gloved hand.

“Good heavens, no!” Caroline said. “Why on earth would you think such a ridiculous thing?”

“Trust, confidence…” Miss Rebekah sighed, “it is something I do not extend easily to those outside of my family.”

Caroline nodded, her mouth soft and somber. She was a little surprised by such an admission, but appreciated the lady’s candor.

“Wariness is not unknown to me, Miss Mikaelson,” she replied feelingly. “Unfortunately, I, too, have been duped or disappointed by acquaintances in the past. It is not something I aim to repeat, either.”

A look of commiseration and understanding passed between them as Miss Rebekah scooted nearer to gossip, “Miss Gilbert ended her courtship with Mr. Salvatore recently. Did you know?” she asked.

“I was aware of that, yes.”

“I,” her companion explained, grimacing at herself, “mistakenly, took pity on him. She’s engaged to his brother now, as I understand it, and he’s quite heartbroken over the situation.”

“I’m sure.”

“However,” her countenance hardened, “that in no way entitles him to assault his dance partner so inappropriately!”

Caroline concurred with a nod.

“Ugh, what poor breeding!”

“Yes…well, Mr. Salvatore’s always been a bit of a rascal in my opinion,” she declared with a shudder, remembering his untoward advances at a coming out ball a few seasons ago. It was an uncomfortable experience which had ended only when Caroline had ‘accidentally’ crashed him into a footman carrying a tray of hot tea while they danced a Scotch reel. “I never could vouch for him.”

“I dare say, what an interesting assortment of individuals this one carriage town of yours boasts, Miss Forbes.” The words filled the air with unveiled repugnance, and she needn’t shift to see to whom they belonged. She already knew. “Wouldn’t you say, sister?” the gentleman added provokingly.

“Some are unpolished, to be sure, Nik, but most people here in Mysticton are agreeable enough.”

“I suppose so.”

His tone implied otherwise, however, causing Caroline’s stomach to churn and her mouth to purse. Hateful man!

Mr. Mikaelson sidled next to them looking like a vigilante ready to duel. Not with pistols, either, but with a blunt broadsword.

“Shall I find a way to dispose of the eldest Salvatore’s lecherous fingers? Inconspicuously, of course,” he offered as an afterthought.

“Not a wholly unappealing offer,” his sister said with consideration, “but unnecessary.”

“I’m inclined to disagree.”

“He’s a cockroach, Nik,” Miss Mikaelson yawned, smoothing the lavender fabric of her skirt absentmindedly. “He’s a bug too lowly to avoid the crunch of retaliatory female feet at some point in the not too distant future.”

She gestured conspiratorially at her companion and smiled, “At any rate, I trust Miss Caroline and I will be among the first two in line. Won’t we?”

“Yes, but…” Mr. Mikaelson dangled, his frustrations marrying with the small hope the ladies would yield. It gave him the aspect of a caged hawk. “I assure you’d it’d be my honor to eliminate such a scoundrel from our midst.”

Miss Caroline piped in then with a twitch of her lips, her countenance lively yet derisive as challenge ignited the air between them like a wick, “Honor,” she tried, “or pleasure?”

“Can it not be both?”

“I believe that depends.”

“On what, might I ask?”

“The gentleman in question.”

“I see,” Mr. Mikaelson mused. He scratched his chin looking offended and intrigued. “And what if the gentleman who stands before you now only aims to save you and his darling sister? Neither one of you should be subjected to Mr. Salvatore’s lewd unpleasantness in the future.”

She appraised him cooly, her lips dancing along the rim of her glass, “My, my, aren’t we chivalrous.”

“Is that a crime, love?”

“No,” she answered. “No, I assure you I find it an admirable quality in anyone, sir.”

“But?” He smirked. “Forgive me, but I sense one.”

Readying her wit like a knife, considering her next maneuver, Caroline let her fingers drum along the glass’s stem while she sipped the last of her wine. Then, setting it on the table beside the settee, she stood.

“But,” she replied, her posture straightening, “it sounds as if brawls are more preferable to you than balls, Mr. Mikaelson. Would you care to enlighten me as to why that may be?” She fluttered her eyelashes, masking herself with innocence. “I admit I’d be most interested to hear your explanation.”

“Oh, I’m afraid my brother infinitely prefers fighting to flirting!” Miss Rebekah supplied for him with an affectionate giggle. “I fear he’s much more adept at closing his fists or stomping offenders into the dirt than he is at opening his lips to converse with people in a ballroom.”

“Singular. Most singular, indeed,” Caroline said.

Altering his posture by inclining his head to the left slightly, Mr. Mikaelson’s gaze flicked to her face with acuteness at this. His eyes, normally a detached ice blue, liquified into a more active hue when they looked upon her, curiosity and intensity rolling into them like waves on a choppy sea. “Singular, you say, miss?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Not—” a pause; one finger tapping on his lips as he sounded out his next word with prolonged consideration “—ungentlemanly?” he said.

Miss Caroline clasped her hands together daintily. Offered him a tight-lipped smile.

The cad.

If he meant to disarm her composure by alluding to those uncensored comments she divulged to Katherine about him earlier, then he’d be sorely disappointed. Her stubbornness rose every time this imperious man attempted to make her look or feel foolish, and she regretted not a single word she’d let slip about him in disapproval. Not one!

Roguishly attractive though he may be, she would set herself apart from her swooning peers. She’d show him precisely how little his money, his status, or his title, mattered. She’d douse him in the ugly truths he deserved, not in the pretty lies he often received.

Therefore, after Captain Lorenzo St. John approached from the other side of the room and bowed, claiming her her hand with a kiss; and moments before he escorted her through the next dance with pleasure, Miss Caroline halted to thumb down one of Klaus’ lapels. She leaned in close to his ear; she whispered so only he would hear,

“If he glares like a brute and grunts like a brute,” she simpered, her tone light but pointed, “then perhaps he is a brute. Just one who attempts to disguise himself in prim and fancy coattails.”

“You certainly have a low opinion of me, Miss Forbes. I aim to change that.”

She bit back a caustic laugh.

“Trust me,” she said, “you won’t.”

He disappeared back into another dark corner after that, his pride satisfactorily wounded. He refrained from speaking to her, or to anyone else, for the rest of the night. His eyes, however, they followed her through the rest of the assembly with a fierce watchfulness that burnt like cigarette butts against Caroline’s back—making it possible to ignore, but not to forget his presence.

Comments are lovely. Thanks for reading!

[loveplayersbioblog]

Lucy Bronze Age, Tattoo, Partner, U-20, Salary, Contract, Net Worth, Instagram

Lucy Bronze is an English ladies footballer who at present fills in as a full back for the French Club Olympique Lyonnais. She has recently played for Sunderland, Everton, Liverpool, and Manchester City. Also, she has likewise been the piece of North Carolina Tar Heels.

Similarly, the youthful player likewise spoke to England at all adolescent levels before being highlighted in the national crew at Euro 2013. Lucy added to the national group during the 2015 and 2019 World Cup.

Athletic and gifted as she seems to be, today, we will speak progressively about her own life, profession, youth, etc. Make a point to peruse till the conclusion to discover increasingly about this decided and enthusiastic player on the field.

Lucy Bronze: Quick Facts

Full Name Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze

Birth Date October 28, 1991

Birth Place Berwick-upon-Tweed, England

Alias Lucia

Religion Christianity

Nationality English

Ethnicity White

University Leeds Metropolitan University

School Community High School

Horoscope Scorpio

Father's Name Joaquin Bronze

Mother's Name Kim Bronze

Kin A sibling and a sister

Age 28 years

Height 5 feet 8 inches (172 cm)

Weight 65 kgs(143 lbs)

Build Athletic

Eye color Green

Hair color Light Brown

Profession Professional Football Player

Dynamic years 2009-present

Team Olympique Lyonnais

Conjugal Status Single

Net Worth $1 million

Salary $40,000

Social Media Instagram, Twitter

Age and Body Measurements-How old is Lucy Bronze?

Full back of the England national group, the headliner, Lucy is simply in her late 20s. Truly, it is unbelievable exactly the amount she has accomplished in such a brief timeframe. The British player, Bronze as conceived in the year 1991, which makes her 28 years starting at now.

Also, Bronze praises her birthday consistently on the 28th of October. What's more, from what we know, individuals of this sign are known to be serious, shrewd, and enthusiastic simultaneously.

Being a player, it is given that one is resolved and enthusiastic about her game. Lucy is the same, and another figure that causes her the course is her genuineness.

To intricate, Bronze is 5 feet 8 inches(172 cm) tall and weighs around 65 kgs(143 lbs). Not exclusively is she normally slender, yet a long time of running in the field have prepared her body. Starting at now, Lucy has a conditioned at this point nimble body.

Be that as it may, this has not dominated her female quality. She is as yet radiating and excellent with her glossy light earthy colored hair and staggering emerald green eyes.

Early Life, Parents, and Education

Lucy Roberta Tough Bronze, notable as Lucy Bronze, just was conceived in the city of Berwick-upon-Tweed, England. English by birth, she has a place with white ethnic foundation.

Additionally, this capable player is the second girl of her folks, Joaquin Bronze and Kim Bronze. Together, they raised Lucy and her two kin; a senior sibling named Jorge and a more youthful sister, Sophie, in England.

Initially, Lucy's dad is of Portuguese plunge while her mom is unadulterated English.

Brittany Brees Bio, Parents, Career, Wedding, Husband, Net Worth, Instagram >>

Discussing her training, Lucy went to the Duchess Community High School situated at Duchess, Alnwick, and later moved to the states. There she selected at UNC in North Carolina and obtained a degree from Leeds Metropolitan University.

The same number of might have suspected. Bronze began playing football since her secondary school days. In her initial years, she spoke to the under-12 foundation level group, Sunderland.

Not long after she turned 16, Lucy was elevated to the senior group and turned into a piece of the under-16 crew.

Lucy Bronze's Early Career

As referenced above, Lucy has been playing in the field since the time her secondary school days. Effectively a commander for the under-16 group, she was named Manager's Player of the Year after Sunderland completed third in the FA Women's Premier League Northern Division.

Moreover, the following season, they won the class, and the group picked up advancement to the National Division. From that point forward, she additionally showed up in the 2009 FA Women's Cup last.

Directly after her work day to the states, Lucy started playing for the North Carolina Tar Heels ladies' soccer group. Intrigued by her mentor Anson Dorrance offered her a grant. Likewise, in December 2009, Bronze turned into the primary British player to win a NCAA Cup followed by All-American distinctions in the wake of scoring three objectives in 24 games.

Also, in September 2010, Bronze marked with Everton and was named a piece of the UEFA Women's Champions League. Be that as it may, she left the group in 2012 and marked with the neighborhood rivals, Liverpool.

Aside from that, Lucy rolled out another improvement by joining Manchester City in 2015. Savage from the earliest starting point, she scored two objectives in her introduction game. Her objective helped the City to meet all requirements for the UEFA Women's Championships League just because, making a history.

Both Lucy and the Blues were ending up being a considerable rival in the field. All the more along these lines, it was Bronze who helped the group win their second FA WSL Cup. It got her the FA WSL 1 Players' Player of the Year grant.

Proficient Career-Olympique Lyonnais

Starting at now, Lucy has been a piece of the Olympique Lyonnais. The full-back player marked a three-year contract with the group back in August 2017. During the 2017-18 season, she showed up and scored two objectives.

Similarly, the headliner likewise played in the last match of the UEFA Women's Champions League and even helped the group in the gold. She kept scoring objectives in practically every last bit of her appearances.

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On account of her commitment, Bronze was named in the Team of the Year for D1 Feminine and Women's Champions League Squad of the Season. Also, Lucy was one of the players to be shortlisted for the debut Women's Ballon d'Or grant; and later among the ten players to be named for UEFA Women's Player of the Year Award.

In the 2018-19 seasons, Lucy showed up for the Lyon and scored two objectives. There she gathered her second Division 1 Feminine League title victor's award, Coupe de France Feminine, another success for the UEFA Women's Champions League.

Lucy Bronze in England's National Team

In March 2007, Lucy turned into a piece of the England under-17 crew and came fourth in the FIFA U-17 Women's World Cup held in New Zealand. Also, she kept on speaking to England in 2009 and 2010 by joining their under-20 instructional course.

Notwithstanding, it was uniquely on June 26, 2013, that Lucy made her official introduction for the England senior group. The next year, she made her first objective against Belarus in World Cup capability.

True to form, Bronze joined the English Women's soccer group at the 2015 Women's World Cup. Lucy was generally lauded for her exhibition, and her name was remembered for the 2015 FIFA Women's World Cup All-Star Team. And furthermore shortlisted for the Golden Ball.

Most would agree that since her contribution in the national group, their group has profited enormously and in a critical manner. Likewise, her incorporation in different honors lounge chairs for her aptitudes as well.

Individual Life-Is Lucy Bronze hitched? Who is her better half?

Its an obvious fact that general society is increasingly inquisitive about VIPs' own life, etc. Also, Lucy Bronze is definitely not another persona with regards to prattle and such things.

In actuality, huge numbers of her fans have been interested about Lucy's own life. Discussing it, it appears the star competitor is, truth be told, single right now. As of now in her late 20s, Bronze isn't hitched and isn't dating anybody either.

In any case, we can perceive how it can come as an odd conduct considering Lucy is as of now at that age. To her at the present time, football and making an effective profession is by all accounts a triumphant factor.

Or on the other hand she may just date stealthily. All things considered, regardless, we will make a point to refresh on this issue as we get some data on them.

Total assets and Income-How much does she procure in a year?

In the event that we glance back at her profession, we can see exactly the amount Lucy has accomplished in these couple of years. Since her beginning at the secondary school group and to speaking to England's National Team, it's anything but a simple accomplishment that anybody can accomplish.

Also, Bronze has threatened her wellbeing, sweat, and tears to get where she is right now. Also, as a result of it, she is getting compensated liberally as well.

Starting at 2020, the headliner of the Olympique Lyonnais has a shocking total assets of $1 million. In the event that anything, the sum may be slighter higher than referenced.

Moreover, Bronze's yearly pay comes some place around $40,000. From what we see, as a player, Lucy is by all accounts gaining all that could possibly be needed. Furthermore, we make certain with time, and more experience on her hands, Lucy's riches will increment much more later on.

[suchgreathits]

I Can See Clearly Now

Muted lights overhead softened the feel of the foyer of my childhood home. A mansion of sorts, no expense spared when you had a pair of surgeons for parents, the usual coldness that accompanied every visit had been transformed by the holiday decorations covering the room in a tasteful, homey warmth.

To my right, I could hear the murmurs of my mom’s voice, no doubt giving another set of instructions to the housekeeper. Hearing the front door shut with a soft click, the gentle pressure of my hip stopping at the sound, I delayed the reunion further, fingertips absentmindedly tracing along the walls bordering each side, noticing the assortment of family photos artfully arranged on the walls.

Although my parents had divorced decades years ago, there was still a complete collection of group pictures that including my dad. I had always been closer to him despite the fact that he still supported my mom’s stance when it came to my career choices. Anything other than medicine, specifically surgery, was not a wise nor acceptable choice.

Nonetheless, here I was several years out of college with only a bachelor’s degree under my belt and no steady career to speak of. According to my family and their colleagues, I should be far from happy or successful.

Despite the lack of career, husband, or family at my age, I defied their claims of what constituted happiness and success. Having spent the entire autumn in a small town a few hours away and finding it more of a home than within the walls where I stood, it was a fond discovery.

A crisp click of heels neared where I had stopped in thought, a familiar face coming into view. Apparently, my arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed as I had assumed.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my only daughter.”

Bony arms surrounded me briefly in a stiff embrace, and I mustered a small smile while I returned the hug and greeting.

“And my one and only dear mom.”

We appraised each other briefly, our arms falling more comfortably to our sides, making small talk while I followed her back into the kitchen. A scent of coffee lingered in the air, and my eyes closed briefly as I recognized and relished the familiarity of it.

She prattled on, listing the numerous events filling her schedule leading up to Christmas. As she was well past retirement age, most of her hours were spent outside of the hospital now, and she enjoyed filling her time with social events.

There was a disturbance behind me, and my thoughts returned to the present. Now the housekeeper was busying herself preparing some of the very same coffee I had just been longing for.

“Come, Bree. Let’s move into the living room while we wait for the coffee.”

One last glance around what was always my favorite room in the house, and I then left in the direction of my mom’s voice. She was continuing to drone on as if silence was not possible except in sleep.

Once seated beside her, I was surprised by a sudden wave of emotion while I studied her face more closely. Every line etched in her delicate skin spoke of the life she had lived. She had never remarried as my dad had, and I wondered how she had dealt with the loneliness.

It was a good thing I had come to visit her and stay for awhile. I had a unsettling suspicion she was hiding something from me and my brothers, possibly to avoid any unnecessary worry on our parts.

What was going on? Maybe she would inform us when we gathered on Christmas Eve. Worry descended upon me, but I kept a smile on my lips while we spoke over cups of coffee. For now I would enjoy the rare moment we shared with just the two of us.