#i really need to sleep but my mind would much rather fantasize than allow me to drift off

[ruelpsen]

Current fantasy: going out to dinner with my fave, ideally at a nice restaurant or somewhere where we're expected to mind our manners. Thanks to the long tablecloths, though, nobody else can immediately tell that he's actually let an attribute or two slip out from the bottom of his waistcoat and reach under the table to my carefully hidden dick. He'd stroke me gently, effortlessly, slowly though to increase my pleasure and to tease me, since I don't want to slip up and reveal what we're really up to to all the people around us. He'd edge me with each course, increasing the intensity of his stroking as I grow closer to finishing each dish, forcing me to bite my tongue and grip my utensils as I blush and force myself to hold back moans.

But no, I can't cum yet. Not until I've eaten everything he's ordered for me, and it's a lot. He of course is eating a lot too, and watching him indulge only arouses me further. The fuller we get, the more desperate I become. Surely our waiter at least suspects that there's something going on under the table by the time they bring out our desserts. Try as I might, I can't keep myself from blushing and flushing when I'm being played with like this. Maybe others are noticing, too. I'm too focused on him and on my food to pay it much mind, but it does turn me on further to briefly float the idea that people might be able to see how much of a gluttonous slut I'm being for the ambassador. Look at how much I can put away for him while trying to be a good boy for him. Look at how long I force myself to hold on so he won't have to punish me.

"I think we're finished here," he says as he finally hands his credit chit to our waiter. That's my cue. As soon as our waiter turns away, I bite my lip while a feeling of tightness rises in me. I try to look down, but with one hand he angles my gaze up to meet his. And with the other, he presses a fist to his mouth, muffling a long, deep, rumbling belch. I cum instantly. The tightness releases and ebbs through me, making me shiver and pant as I come down from my high. If people hadn't noticed before, they certainly knew what we were up to now. Look at how much of a whore that human is, they must be thinking. And the ambassador too- such a slut he must be if he's not above jerking off a human in public!

Once the chit's brought back to us, he stealthily zips my pants back up before we stand to head out. I leave a sizeable tip on the table- it's the least I can do after cumming on the bottom of the table. Now that I've released once, it dawns on me just how full I am. It hurts and I know I need to burp, but not yet, not while we're still in such a nice establishment. I look at him though and know that he's ready to help me with that once we're back to his quarters, a method that will perhaps make use of his attributes again...

[dilucbabe]

filthy

pairing: overhaul x fem!reader rating: m themes: priest kink, dubcon/noncon, emotional manipulation, spit kink, explicit sexual content, degradation, misogyny word count: 1.75k ao3 - request

His gloved fingers glide over your own, a smile adorning his lips. Funny, how such a simple gesture can mean so much to someone like Kai. It’s obviously no secret how uncomfortable he is with people showing their entitlement in thinking they’re allowed to come near his vicinity - to rub their filthy hands over him as if he merely stood on display. But it wasn’t just about the audacity that they showed with their thoughtless actions, far more, it was about the control that they took from him.

Kai is a man of action, a man of God. Someone who shows action and takes fate into his own hand, pulling it if needed. Not someone who lets things happen to him. He isn’t weak like that and he’d rather die than become so pathetic. His mission in life is to shield the weak ones from temptation and sin, to guide them to the right path, even if it means becoming forceful. Some might call him cruel, but truth be told, the perception of others is as important as the non-existent dirt under his fingernails. The only thing that truly matters that he obeyed the Allmighty, the church.

“Father?”, your voice is laced with sleep, eyes not yet open and Kai feels his heart stir at the sight alone. “Hmm, did something happen?” The innocence in the statement alone feels like pure gasoline to the flame that is his desire for you. Funny, how such a simple gesture can drive a man like Kai Chisaki to the brink of madness.

You’d come to the monastery on a rainy night, wet hair clinging to your frightened little face as you begged with utmost sincerity, “Please, father. I have nowhere to go. I- I need your guidance.”

You had practically breathed your plea, hands desperately clawing at your coat, the wet fabric doing nothing to shield you from the cold. If he were a different man, he would have felt his demeanour melt away, but he had remained strong. “Guidance, child?”

You cast your gaze away from him, shame bringing a pretty glow to your cheeks. “I’m a horrible woman. I-“, your bottom lip quivered, looking up at you with such over the top sorrow, it almost seemed comical. Almost. “I have seduced men without meaning to. I really didn’t, you have to believe me! Satan himself must reside within me!”

“First and foremost”, he had remained firm in his stance, albeit a bit more tense, though he couldn’t quite tell why. “There is nothing I have to do, aside from serving our Lord in Heaven. Not aid you, nor believe you.”

A high pitched squeal slipped past your chapped lips, clasping your hand over your mouth as though you had spoken out of turn. “I- Please-!”

“Still, you are in luck that God wouldn’t let me permit to turn my back on a poor sinner, so accepting of their own sins.”

It was, for the lack of a better word for it, thrilling to hear you beg like that, he remembers. It still is. Desperation and fear for condemnation – for punishment – has always been a big motivator for Kai. Instilling fear of what is good and righteous had always seemed like his one true calling, planting a seed of shame and guilt within people’s minds, to infest it and exorcise all evil from their very souls. A most gratifying experience he thanks the Lord every night in prayer.

Yet when it comes to you, he feels something stir inside of him. Maybe it is something akin to excitement, maybe it was hunger, maybe mere curiosity. Whatever it may be, he knows that it can only mean evil. What else could it be? You yourself have admitted upon being corrupted by the Devil, so he is but a man standing in the face of corruption.

Kai feels his pulse quicken, your legs spread open as though you are simply begging for him to be defiled by you. And who knows? Maybe you are. It wouldn’t be the first time, he’d caught your eyes taking his form with heaving bosom and wide eyes. Revolting slut that you are.

“Father?” He can see you trembling and he can feel himself swell with something akin to pride.

A cold smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, tugs at the corners of his lips, his hands now on your thighs, holding them in place. Even through his gloves, he can tell how warm you are to the touch – a temptation, if there ever was one. Though you might look the innocent maiden, he can see for what you truly are and maybe his purpose was to punish you for it, to set you right. Indeed, filling your hole with his seed might even cleanse you from all the filth of your very core.

God is on his side, he’s certain of it. He’d forgive his obedient servant’s sin if it meant saving a soul from the eternal flames of Satan. There simply is no other way.

Your eyes widen, any trace of exhaustion wiped clean from your face. “Please, no… I don’t want to-“

“Hush”, his fingers dig deep into your flesh, the promise of bruises blooming on your skin, making his cock stir. “You know that lying is a sin, don’t you? Let alone to a man of faith.”

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks at any moment, hands desperately clawing at the covers Kai’s sitting on, trying to cover yourself, to no avail. “P- Please…”

“I didn’t ask you to beg. I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” He’s wedging himself between your legs now, knees pressing them apart, while his hands easily get a hold of your wrists, holding them in place. How come your words express such dread, when your body is so easy – so willing – to get overpowered by him? Even if you don’t quite realize it yourself, your mind is clouded with lies and sin. “Let’s try this again”, he pauses. “You’re aware that lying to a man of faith in considered a sin, yes?”

A slow nod. “Yes, father.”

“And although you should know better, you still actively choose to disobey the word from our Lord, yes?”

“It’s not a lie!” Even though your whole body is violently trembling with pitiful sobs, Kai can’t quite help it, but be in awe of your form. You make such a perfect victim, he’s sure, any artist would compare you to the likes of Mary and Joan d’Arc – suffering for the greater good. Although, of course, he knows you better than to fall prey to your manipulation.

Pressing your balled up fists against his cock, he snarls in pure disdain, “Don’t play coy with me. Do you think I’m blind to your lust? Do you think yourself a victim to the attention of men you so desperately seek out?”

You flinch upon contact, though Kai notes, how you momentarily halt your wails, a faint squeal escaping you. He wonders, is that still part of the act that you’re trying to keep up or if you’re rightfully in stunned at the size of him. He grows harder just thinking about burying himself to the hilt inside your vile cunt. “N- no! Father, I never meant to- to-“

“For me to notice?”, he snaps and by the shock written all across your features he knows that he’s right. “You perverted whore.”

“It was never my intention to seduce you! I’m not lying! I swear, the Lord is my witness, I-“

Thwack. The sting on your cheek is relentless, but it’s a necessary evil. You have to learn how to behave, that there are consequences to your misdeeds, even if he has to beat it into you. “How dare you use the Lord’s name to spout all this nonsense”, it’s no question, but a statement. “I have no patience for whores with silver tongues.”

Kai leans over you, holding your wrists over your head, relishing in the sight of you being completely at his mercy. Your meek hiccups did nothing but spur him on even further, solidifying his decision in cleansing you free. “I’m so- sorry. You were so kind to me and took me under your wing when I needed help and- and I just…”

You squirm under his ever so watchful eyes. “Filthy thing”, his fingers enclose around your jaw, fingers forcing your lips to pucker open and spits. “To think giving you shelter would be enough was foolish of me, but we know better now, don’t we? You’re in need of drastic measures and it is me who has to whip you into shape. But fear not, I will not falter to bring you to the light side. I’ll fuck the virtue into you if I need to.”

It all happens so fast, you can barely keep up. One moment he hikes up the skirt of your frilly, little nightgown, chilly air hitting your exposed skin, the next he’s pumping his leaking cock right in front of your pussy lips. You try with all your strength – which admittedly, isn’t a lot – to get away from him, but he’s a strong man. And you should already know, shouldn’t you? Haven’t you spent night and night again, admiring his physique when he so graciously read the bible for you? Haven’t you fantasized about those very arms holding your naked body against his as he’d plunge into you in rapid speed? He’s right, you muse, you’re nothing but a common slut.

“God forgive me”, he groans and gets to work.

Funny, how such innocent glances can lead to such thorough punishment. Or was it redemption at last? You can’t tell anymore – too lost in the feelings of his palm, striking your thighs, face, tits; his hips clashing into your own with such force, it’s hard not to wince from pain; his stern look casting down at you and promising both salvation and damnation. Filthy thing, you repeat in your head, filthy, filthy, filthy. You should be grateful a man of God deems you worthy of his attention, let alone his cock.

Your insides are burning and your lungs feel like they might give out any minute, too exhausted from all the sobbing and crying, but Kai stays relentless. “Father, please”, you plead.

His response is sinister, but you know, a filthy thing like you deserves it. “Patience is a virtue”, he pants. “But what would you know about virtue?”

And he’s right.

[theladyscarlettt]

Forgotten Figures (pt. 5)

This part is longer than the other parts, I apologize to all my fellow ADD/ADHD readers. However, the length was needed for the plot and character arcs (specifically a certain elf.) I really hope you all like it and keep a look out for the Easter Egg I left for you. ~The Lady Scarlettt

Link to Forgotten Figures (pt. 4)

---

*Warning: a suggestive scene, mild language

---

She paced the chamber floor, the words of Thranduil plaguing her thoughts. She looked at the chair in which he occupied the evening before, rage consuming her. She sucked in her breath to hold back a cry, walked over to the chair and slung it across the room. The chair slammed into her night stand, causing the daggers to fall to the ground. She knelt down to pick one up, her eyes beginning to sting. She turned the smooth blade in her clammy hands, and thought of what she would say to him. 

She could tell him about his father’s visit, but it would spark a very, unwanted conflict. She even tossed around the idea of fleeing the kingdom, but that was a foolish, cowardly and selfish notion. While her love for the prince was enough, she could not deny the unsettling burden that came with the idea of leaving. Mirkwood was her home. She was raised here, Tauriel was here, and as much as her present circumstances caused her great peril, her loyalty was to the crown, for she has known nothing else.

She simply was a creature with a title that held no knowledge of the true cruelty, sorrow and inequity the world held. As she sat dazed by the colors of the white gemmed speckled daggers, she understood the days of fantasizing and dreaming were no more. Her childhood, through the night, had abandoned her and left her with nothing but hope, the most dangerous of all emotions.

Her decision came to her, and so did a knock at the door.

She jumped slightly, gripping the dagger in her hand. She wiped her eyes and frantically stood trying to find somewhere to conceal the white gem handled daggers. 

“One moment!” she called, finding the wooden box they were gifted in. She placed the dagger inside, hesitated, then locked it.

She approached the door trying to calm her breathing, as she slowly opened the door, she saw a worried Tauriel. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Y/N,” she smiled warmly, “Are you alright? I heard you were not feeling well, is there anything I can do?” 

Y/N forced a congested cough, “I will be alright tomorrow, thank you for your concern.” 

Tauriel looked past her into the disheveled room, than back to Y/N, “Are you sure, you’re alright?” not waiting for an answer she walked past her into the room.

“I- ugh.” Y/N groaned, closing the door. 

Tauriel inspected the room and began to pick up clothing, books and bottles. 

“Tauriel,” Y/N groaned, “I’m alright really, you do not have to clean for me.” 

Tauriel, ignoring her picked up the wooden box on the bed. “I’ve never seen this before, it’s beautiful.” She turned to Y/N. “What’s in it?” She asked, turning it in her hands.

“Nothing, just some old letters from... my parents.” Y/N lied.

Tauriel smiled sadly and laid the box down, “Is that what it is? I can’t believe its been so long ago.”

Y/N paused, in all the chaos she had forgotten it was the anniversary of her parents passing. She slumped and sat on the other end of the bed.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to barge in, I just needed to know you were alright. Two guards were found unconscious last night outside the West Wing.” Tauriel said, trying to change the topic. 

Y/N perked up, “The West Wing? Why that’s where the royal vault is. Who would do such a thing?”

“I am uncertain, but the King is investigating everyone on their whereabouts last night.” She said.

“Was something stolen?” Y/N questioned.

“I’m not sure but someone from one of the units said a few of the White Gems of Lasgalen were missing. I’m sure it was merely a superstition for we all know the lengths the King will go to for those pieces of rock.” She laughed.

Y/N suddenly felt ill at the coincidence of timing, she looked to the box by Tauriel.

Tauriel turned to face Y/N, “Y/N! Why you look faint.” She moved closer to her friend, “Are you sure I can not fetch you some water or-”

“Tauriel,” Y/N whispered, “I need to ask a favor of you.”

“Yes, anything.” She said with concerned eyes.

“I want you to take that box, go to the woods and bury it, but do not tell me where.” She whispered.

Tauriel looked from Y/N to the box with suspicion, “Are those not your last ties to your family?”

“I know I must move on,” Y/N said desperately “but I do not know I have the strength to do so. Please, rid me of its sight, that’s all I ask of you.” 

Tauriel looked to her friend, then to the box. While there were no words spoken, there were none needed, for some reason or another, she understood.

“Y/N you are like a sister to me, and I trust you more than life its self.” She grabbed the box, “I only hope you trust me the same.”

Y/N looked to Tauriel, tears in her eyes, “I do. I promise to you-”

“Do not make promises you can not keep.” Tauriel said and stood, “I will do as you have said, all I ask is, in time, for your truth. Until then, I will wait for you.” She left, closing the door softly behind her.

---

Y/N lay asleep in her bed, when the window opened from outside. The prince stuck his head in and was alarmed by the disarray of the room. When he spotted her amongst the mess, he stepped in, quietly closing the window behind him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, creeping over to her bed. 

She turned in her sleep, a soft moan escaping her lips.

He smiled sweetly at her resting face. It never ceased to amaze him how she always seemed so graceful, even in her slumber. He sat softly on the bed, and placed a hand on her arm. “Y/N,” he whispered again.

Her eyes shot open but before he could react, she grabbed his wrist twisting it behind his back and latched her arm around his neck, pulling his body to her.

“It’s me- It’s agh,” he gagged, “It’s me!”

Her eyes widened in embarrassment, “Legolas! Forgive me, I thought- I thought you were someone else.” She released him and her eyes frantically searched the room.

“Hey, Hey.” He hushed, grabbing her shoulder, “Are you alright? I should be the one frightened, not you.” he laughed.

She looked to him, her breathing slowing. “I’m sorry” she said placing a hand over her chest.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” he sang, pulling her into him, “Are you alright?”

“I do not know,” she said her eyes checking the room again.

He pulled back, with a worried expression, “Has something happened? Tauriel told me you were ill.”

She almost scoffed but caught herself, “I’m alright, truly. I just ate something sour I suppose. Tauriel? Did you prompt her?”

“Why no,” Legolas chuckled, “Father and I were coming back through the forest from the river, when I spotted Tauriel alone in the woods. She looked tired, so I offered her my horse, that’s when she told me she was out looking for Athelas, for your fever.” He placed a hand on her check, “Seems they worked.” he smiled.

“So, she did do it” Y/N mumbled, feeling guilty for questioning her friend’s loyalty.

“Do what?” he questioned.

“You never miss a beat do you?” she teased.

“Never.” he grinned, leaning back against the headboard, realizing she was hiding something.

Thranduil’s words echoed in the back of her mind as she stared at Legolas. The dreadful hope she so clung to, quarreled with the reality she now faced. She could no longer look him in the eyes. 

Legolas felt something was severely wrong but he was not sure what. He looked around her room at the piled clothing, opened books and overturned furniture. He sighed, “I wish you would tell me what is the matter. I feel as if I am to do with it.” he reached out to test her and she jerked away. “So, it is.”

“I can not do this anymore, Legolas.” she blurted out.

He blinked, “What do you mean?” he asked, even though he knew what she implied.

She stood, biting her finger, as she did when she was nervous or in deep thought, “This. Us. I can not continue to see you.” her voice cracked.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, “and why not?”

“You said it yourself, we can no longer sneak around for the rest of our lives. We were never meant to be together and deep down you know it, practically everything is against it.” With every word she spoke, her heart began to break

“What has prompted such speech from you?” Legolas questioned, with a bitter tone. “Was it not two evenings ago you said-”

“I know what I said, damn you.” She spat. “But I also know that we are fools to think we have the privilege to enjoy such pleasures. We do not have that freedom. You are the prince, you are the heir to the throne-”

“To hell with the throne,” He stood, the light in his eyes now gone, “To hell with the titles! You know, I care nothing for it or the riches it holds. It is not and has never been the life I wanted, I was merely born into it by chance.”

“Then why don’t you just walk away, if you fucking hate it so much.” she yelled, shocked by her new found anger.

He looked at her, like she were a fool, “because I can’t.”

“and why not?” she asked, trying to maintain the act but there was little to no confidence in her attempts.

“My father, would never allow his only son to leave, you have no idea who he truly is or what he is capable of.” His eyes fell.

“Legolas,” she breathed. She looked to the ceiling to keep the tears from streaming down her face. She could not do go through with it. “Legolas, I’m sorry, I did not mean any of what I said. I didn’t know what to do. I was just frightened because your father, he-”

“Will not accept us, I know.” he said flatly, not meeting her eyes. 

“No, no, Legolas, he came-” She tried to reach for the words to fix the situation.

“If he does not, I will leave.” he said.

Her eyes widened, “What? No. Legolas you can not leave. Not over this, not over me, that’s so foolish of you.”

He turned to face her, “Then let me be a fool.” He approached her, “I rather live my life with meaning, then live it meaningless. For you, I would do it.”

“Legolas, one does not simply walk away from such duties,” she rejected him by backing away. This was the worse possible scenario she hoped would not happen. The heir, abandoning the realm. The chaos that could unfold at the news of an open throne with no one acting as it’s rightful successor. Wars would unfold. Wars because of her.

She felt her back press against a wall. She looked into his ocean eyes, the moon light was perfectly illuminating his silver, starlight hair. She felt many things in that moment, many things one could not help to feel after someone professed their love in such a way. “Legolas,” she pleaded, “Please, do not make this mistake, on my behalf. I forbid it.”

He looked down at her, and shook his head, “I’m willing to accept the costs of my errors, if they are so much as that.”

She could not tell if it were guilt or lust that made her give in to him but she did.

He knew she withheld something more from him, something important. He could not help, but wonder if his father had threatened her. However, he knew in her present state of manic, she would not speak, unless, she felt she could trust his actions. While her mind was far more intelligent than his, the desires of the flesh, unfortunately would have their way, in her vulnerable state. He felt shameful as his mind tossed around the one thing that would obtain him this information.

“Forgive me,” he said, his breath hot and dripping with shame.

So, he seduced her.

She felt his lips press against her’s as his hands ran down to find the curve of her back. His lips were soft, and his taste was sweet. She found herself, unconsciously, kissing him back harder each time. He smiled through her kisses, and eagerly tugged at her lip with his teeth. She moved her hands up to his tunic’s collar, pulling him towards her. To balance himself, he placed his hand up against the wall, and with the other, slipped his hand down to her thigh, pulling it up. She leaned against the wall as he kissed her passionately, his tongue familiarizing itself with its surroundings.

All of the fear and anger that had seemed so prominent before, slowly seemed more foreign to her with each passing second. She had never felt so timid, yet so daring in her life.

She reached up, gathering his hair between her fingers and pulled his head to the side to reveal his strong, veined neck. She placed light kisses alongside his jaw line and then began to mark it. She barely heard the moan, escape his lips as he leaned against her. Before she could finish, he impatiently patted her thigh, to which she jumped lightly and he picked her up, shoving her back against wall, to begin leaving a trail of kisses along her collar bone. Her eyes fluttered as she dug her nails into his back. 

He suddenly set her down, to which she looked to him disappointed, but he had a smug look on his red face. He quickly bent down, grabbing her behind the knees and slung her over his shoulder. She could not hold back the laughter that radiated throughout the chamber. He spun her around once, for good measure before flipping her onto the bed. She began to laugh that sweet laugh he loved but he placed a finger over her slightly swollen lips. 

“Shh,” he hushed, “Secret Scandal, remember?’ 

She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped him. 

He then grew serious, guilt stopping him, “Are you sure? We can always wait a while longer.”

She smiled up at him, her fingers tracing the gorgeous, ethereal features of his face. “Promise me,” she looked down, “No matter what happens, you will not forsake me.”

He looked at her, not knowing it then, but the lie in which he would tell, would haunt him for the rest of his life, “I would never do anything to harm you. You have my word.”

She looked up to him, stroking his face lovingly, feeling safe within his presence, “Then, yes, I’m sure.” Her breath danced with his as he kissed her, this time, somehow, even more sweetly.

---

“You see Gimli,” she said, “It’s funny how people lie when they are afraid.”

Link to Forgotten Figures (pt. 6)

[katherinemallory]

#10 The roulette of feelings

Hell is empty and all the previous chapters are here: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9

After a few days in London we caught our flight to Monte Carlo. I’m not sure how long we stayed there. This mission felt like a long holiday since the very beginning.

Still on board we agreed that Bond would be the one to play poker and I would pose as his wife, or, as he has put it, “a crown jewel”. Usually I don't like being treated as such, since my experience in behaving like a damsel is close to a bare minimum, but this time I really enjoyed it. Bond was clearly pleased with his leading role in this show, and - while sitting at the poker table - he started to take chances more eagerly. He boasted about his poker skills all the time and I kept working from the shadows, observing him and our rivals, and making sure that we don’t expose ourselves too much. A win-win situation.

We were quite busy spending time at the casino, discussing the tactics, or using all the possible attractions offered by the city of Monte Carlo. The only contact I had with the outside world during the first week were my reports to MI6 which went directly to M, delivered to him by Eve Moneypenny.

One day, while Bond was on the meeting with our liaison (it's amazing the SIS has got its people... everywhere), my phone rang. I picked it up and sat on my bed, crossing my legs.

"Hi Eve. It’s nice to hear you. Did you... find out anything?"

"Not yet, Kath, but I'm working on it," she reassured me. "I just wanted to know how you're doing. You haven't been in touch for *days*. I’ve only noticed your daily reports."

"I'm more than fine, thank you. And I’m sorry for not being in touch... I have to admit I've been kinda busy, but... I won’t complain. Finally I do all those things I needed to recharge my batteries."

“I can’t believe what I hear! Does it mean I should become a double-0 if I want to feel more relaxed?” she teased me.

“You definitely should try it,” I replied, smiling. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s absolutely true. I enjoy the high-life more than I expected... All those fancy parties, drinks, wealthy men, late-night strolls around the streets of Monte Carlo... You get used to it pretty quickly," I replied in delight. "Sometimes I forget that I am here for the purpose of work.”

“It’s great to hear that, Kath. You deserve it, especially after what happened in Geneva,” said Eve and hesitated. “And... And w-w-what about Bond...? I guess it’s him who takes you on these late-night strolls?” 

I laid on the bed, putting one pillow under my head. I looked straight at the white ceiling.

“Well... We spend each night at the casino, pretending to be a husband and a wife who just want to enjoy themselves... In the mornings Bond tries to teach me how to play poker. I fail miserably every time!” I chuckled. “We share a suite. I had some concerns before, but so far he behaves."

Eve's voice went up really high.

"You mean he did give up on you?”

I tilted my head to the right, placing my cheek on one of the pillows and pressing the phone to my ear.

"He didn’t. We flirt regularly," I replied, as I scratched my forehead with my left hand. “But he’s more patient now, I reckon. And more self-confident. He knows I can’t pay much attention to the other men at the casino, cause it would blow our cover immediately. He knows I wouldn’t do that... This is what makes him... erm... powerful. And he probably thinks I will fall for him eventually,” I added, rolling my eyes. “And I’m afraid he’s right.”

“Uh, you don’t really *mean* it, do you?” she asked, concerned. “There’s no pressure... This mission won’t last forever.”

“Honestly, Eve? Sometimes I feel like it will last forever... And Bond’s presence gets more addictive every day,” I said, lying on my back again. “I used to make fun of it, but I’m afraid I can’t resist Bond much longer. I mean... Not because he’s irresistible, but because... I really start to feel something for him.”

I took a deep breath and then continued:

“It all depends on what you find. If Mallo... erm, if the man I asked you to spy on... is married, then I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have an affair with Bond...”

“Fair enough,” commented Eve. “At least you know what Bond wants from you. Suppose that’s something. But didn’t you admit the other day that you loved Ma...”

“It’s more complicated than you think," I interrupted. "When you spend all days in Bond’s company, it changes your perspective entirely... You’d better hurry then. I am so confused recently...” Damn, I thought. There is no need to burden Eve with all of this... I should probably change the subject. “... but you didn’t tell me anything about yourself, how was your day at the SIS? Any news?”

“Business as usual. I can’t share much detail, but it seems like Amanda’s got reassigned as she had requested.”

“Good for her. Send my love.”

“I will. And I promise to get in touch as soon as I find out anything about... *him*.”

...

The upcoming days passed so fast that I didn’t think about anything apart from what was going on in Monte Carlo. Intuitively both myself and Bond concentrated on the everyday tasks of the mission, but it turned out most of the time we just had fun, which meant our Walther and Beretta were absolutely useless.

Since the only moments I had only to myself were those just before going to bed in the evenings, I often spent them on analyzing my own feelings and, as a result, I developed a certain kind of insomnia. Or, I should rather call it “a difficulty with falling asleep”.

My thoughts were centred on Mallory. I miss him. I miss him dearly, but only when I have time to think about what he's doing in his old-fashioned office in London. When Bond is around, it’s only him who matters to me. Why is that? What the hell has happened to me? I don't know, but it's disturbing. And I get tired every time I try to sort things out in my mind... Can I really sleep with Bond if Mallory’s married? It’s not about giving up on a married man (which is an obvious decision from my point of view, as I would never break up *anyone’s* marriage), but about being honest to myself. Do I really love Mallory if I can fantasize about Bond? Or do I really feel something for Bond if my next move depends on Mallory’s marital status?

After a few evenings of such intense thinking I realized that no matter the arguments, such analysis is pointless. I could be thinking about this for a year and still didn’t come up with a right solution. I decided to wait and see how the case would resolve itself.

On the last day - it was one of those splendid days in June when you feel the most alive - we went to the casino for one more time, looking more dashing than ever. Little did we know, when we walked hand in hand into the casino - Bond wearing a black dinner jacket and me in an evening scarlet dress - that Bond would win the night’s poker game, gaining an enormous amount of money.

Late at night, around 3 A.M. I went straight to the poker table and brought Bond a dry martini (I've already had a few of them myself to relieve the boredom).

"Congratulations," I said, handing him a martini.

"Thank you," replied Bond and drank half of his glass.

I looked at him with aroused interest while he was drinking. I was never good at poker and, as much as I didn't want to, I had to admit the way he played that night impressed me.

"What do we do now?"

For a while, he observed the olives that seemed as if they were swimming inside the glass, and then gave me a quick glance.

"We pack and come back to London."

"Is that so? What about the winnings?" I asked in disbelief, expecting some kind of joke rather than a matter-of-fact response.

"I will have to transfer them to MI6. I have already contacted M, he should send me the instructions in the next few hours."

"You've already contacted M? Someone's in a hurry. Was your time here *that* bad?” I taunted him.

Bond smirked, but didn't say anything. I glanced around the room. The people started to leave the place.

"So, it means we came here broken and we leave broken, despite the win?" I asked, laughing.

"One could say that," Bond agreed. "But I can still afford a dinner and a drink. Would you join me tonight for a humble celebration?"

"With pleasure. Let's enjoy our last hours in this marvellous place,” I said, taking him by the arm.

After the dinner in one of the restaurants at the casino, we went for our last walk around the streets of Monte Carlo. Both me and Bond became unexpectedly talkative, probably because of too many drinks we had to celebrate the happy ending of the mission.

It could have been around 5 A.M when the walk started to feel too exhausting, and we went back to our shared suite.

"Would you like another?" asked Bond, pointing to the bottle of bourbon at the table, just after we locked the door to the suite.

"Yes," I replied. "The last one for tonight."

I have no idea why I agreed to this, cause I've never been drinking much or mixing alcohols in the past. After Bond handed me my glass, I let my hair down and rushed to the balcony. I need to see this amazing city just one more time before I go to sleep, I thought. I observed the skyline, waiting for Bond to join me.

"To the king and queen of Monaco," said Bond and we clinked glasses, standing next to each other.

I smiled at him and drank the whole glass with my eyes closed, but I still could tell he was staring at me.

"You know, Katherine, it's been one of my favourite missions so far."

"Really?”

"Yes... It’s the simplicity of it,” he took off his dinner jacket, thrown it on the nearest chair, and then continued. “The task I'm really good at... the fairy-tale location, no rush... and the right woman. You," he said in his deep, smooth voice and put his glass on the floor.

Then he put one of his hands on the railing and turned to me, but didn’t say a word, as if he intended to find out how close to me I would allow him to move.

“It’s an honour to hear something like that from such an experienced double-0,” I said timidly, still holding the empty glass in my hands.

Bond gazed at me for a few seconds.

"It's true, I've been a double-0 for quite a while," he said and turned his head to look at the skyline of Monte Carlo, "but rarely did I feel this close with another agent. It's strange. I’ve always tried to avoid being emotionally attached to anyone. Cause of the job's nature and all that stuff."

This time it was me who stayed quiet. I just kept listening to him, realizing how much I *love* his voice and how could I listen to him talking *forever*. It occurred to me how beautiful his magnetic blue eyes were, especially in the middle of the night. One could say the same about Bond's face which now seemed to me like the face of the most handsome man on the planet. It should be illegal to be *that* handsome, I thought.

Bond turned his head to me.

"Then I've met you... and it seems I forget about all of those rules in the blink of an eye... it seems I don't control myself anymore."

I don't know how it happened, but in the next moment I found myself in Bond's arms. I felt his embrace, so tight, as if he wanted to protect me from all of the threats of this world. The glass dropped out of my hands and probably broke up, but we didn’t hear anything apart from the sound of our pumping hearts. I placed my hands on Bond’s chest, and we began to kiss, not being able to control the lust that started to fulfil our bodies. I quickly moved my hands to his neck and then the back of his head. I caressed his hair, which felt like the most pleasant material I have ever touched.

"You're the woman of my dreams," whispered Bond, when he started to kiss my neck. In response, I tilted my head back, but continued to touch his hair.

Out of the blue Bond picked me up and headed towards the bedroom. He was in a hurry, wanting to put me on his bed as soon as possible. He took off his shirt and laid down on me, holding my waist and passionately kissing my neck.

"Oh, James," I moaned, as the touch of his lips and hands started to turn me on. “Keep going... umm... And use that nice, deep voice of yours.”

“Like this?” he asked, lowering his voice and biting my ear. “Do you like it?”

“Yes...”

Oh my, I am in heaven. If he doesn't stop, I'll melt, I thought. I let Bond kiss me a few more times, but then moved to the other side of the bed to undress. Bond watched me hungrily as I took off my dress and stockings. And there I was, lying on his bed and wearing only my sexy black lingerie. I thought that he would eat me if he could.

I encouraged Bond with a sensual gesture, touching myself where I wanted to be touched the most. He couldn’t stand watching me for long, and came closer to kiss me again. He slowly moved from my belly and breasts to my neck.

“I've been waiting for this moment since the day we've met," he murmured, while kissing my collarbone.

I closed my eyes to double the thrill and make the experience more intense. My hands moved to his back and held him tighter.

"You drive me crazy," Bond whispered into my ear.

A fast thought crossed my mind. It's true what they say in the Service... nobody does it better... he's definitely a great lay... to hell with “the revenge plot”, go for it, Kath. I was just about to take off my bra, when I heard something was vibrating. I got a text. Great timing. I opened my eyes and reluctantly sat on the bed, bending down to the bedside cabinet.

"Oh, Katherine, just ignore it," said Bond who still caressed my waist with his right hand.

"Look who’s talking," I replied. "The most professional man in the Service... There’s no need to describe this to you..."

I looked at the screen and in that exact moment my adventurous mood was gone. I felt as if my heart stopped for a short while.

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I have some evidence. He's not married anymore. Love, Eve

I quickly locked the screen to prevent Bond from seeing the message, as I felt his touch on my back. He hugged me from behind, kissing my left shoulder.

"Shall we continue?" he asked in his naughty manner.

I froze in my tracks. What about M? How can I fight for him if I sleep with another man right now? I promised myself to fight for Mallory and I have to be consistent. This was fun, but... I love Mallory, right? It's high time to stop playing games... and to finally forget about Bond. Perhaps it's a good sign I got this message before we did antyhing reckless.

I stood up with my back to Bond, still holding the phone in my hands.

"I'm sorry James... but I can't do this,” I declared as seriously as I could.

"But why?" he asked calmly, but his voice was full of disappointment and sadness. "Was it something I did?"

Oh, dear James, I thought. If you only knew how perfectly you did everything...

"No," I replied and turned to him. My voice was shaking a bit. "It was... it was a wonderful night, but I've never slept with a co-worker before... and... I've just realized it would be wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this," I blurted out and felt a tear doing down my cheek.

Bond seemed not to believe me.

"You've *just* realized it? *Just* after you've got that message," he said, pointing to my phone. "I don't know what this is about, but... we've had such a great time here, why not celebrate it tonight? It doesn’t matter at all that we work together."

I turned my head in embarrassment, trying not to look at him. He stood up and came closer to me.

"I know that you like me," Bond said and placed his hands on my arms. "You can't simply deny our chemistry. You've seen what kind of magic it can cause... you don't have to ruin it."

I took his hands off me and went to the other side of the bed to grab my clothes.

"I'm really sorry, James. It's over."

"It's over before it even started... Strange, isn’t it?"

I ignored him, as I headed toward to the door leading to my part of the suite. I must have looked miserable in my sexy black lingerie, holding my evening dress, and being on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"I don't want to hurt you *again*," I said quietly with my hand on the doorknob.

Bond shook his head.

"You will hurt me if you leave,” he said calmly, but I knew he was full of anger. His eyes told me he was suspicious of everything I’ve said.

As I knew he had the very right to be suspicious, I turned my back on him, trying to get inside my part of the suite. My hands started to shake, making it impossible to quickly open the door.

“You still think about *him*, don’t you Kath...?” Bond asked in a raised voice, with his hands on his hips. “Why do you keep deceiving yourself? He’s not cut out for it! He doesn’t see you this way... and even if something happened between us he wouldn’t care!”

But I would, James. I would, I thought, going inside my part of the suite through the door. I couldn’t bear to look at those cold blue eyes again.

I went up straight to the bathroom and locked the door. I could not think of anything else than just bursting into tears.

You're so stupid, Kath. Mallory thinks you're responsible, but you're just stupid, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. What was that for? Bond might be a womanizer, but no one deserves to be treated like that. No one. Does he use other women? He does. But it’s none of your business, Kath. You don't offer someone the pleasure and then deny it. You just don’t...

I spend a few minutes sitting on a bathroom’s floor and crying.

But looking on the bright side... at least I got my backup story. Everyone will see something’s happened between us, but no one will ask questions. And if there is a slightest chance M cares about me, he’ll get the message.

I can’t wait for this mission to be really over. By this time tomorrow I shall be in my apartment in London. Alone.

***

To be continued.

[emachinescat]

So I've been wanting to write this since 5x10, but just now got the chance. This is a look at the ending scene from Murdoc's creepy, possessive obsession with Mac, and it plays with the idea of what might have happened if Bozer hadn't done the trick with the static (sorry Boze for taking away your moment of glory, but creepy Murdoc trumps hero time). Anyway, I hope you enjoy my twist on this episode. It was fun to write. Murdoc is fun to write. What does that say about me? ;)

Title: Murdoc + MacGyver - Everyone Else | Fandom: MacGyver 2016

Summary: AU ending to 5x10. Murdoc never planned on killing MacGyver in that skyscraper. Certainly not for the likes of Andrews. Or, in which Bozer doesn't do his trick with the comms and Murdoc sends a very clear message to all of Codex that MacGyver is HIS.

Characters | Pairings: Murdoc, Mac, Andrews, Riley, Desi

Words: 2,594

TW: Murdoc being creepier than usual, I guess

AO3 Tags: Murdoc Is Obsessed with MacGyver, Obsessive Murdoc, Possessive Murdoc, Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump. Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Season/Series 05, 5x10, 5x10 au, Implied MacRiley, Manhandling, Creepy Murdoc (MacGyver TV 2016), Obsessive Behavior, TW Creepy Obsession, Diamond + Quake + Carbon + Comms + Tower, Murdoc POV

Full story here or on AO3!

It was adorable, really, Murdoc thought as he lowered the improvised cutting torch slowly, steadily, agonizingly closer to MacGyver’s bruised and bloody face, that Eric Andrews thought that Murdoc was going to go through with this.  The general was a ridiculous man, the kind that Murdoc most enjoyed killing.  Arrogant and pretentious,yet stupid enough to believe he could manipulate, even control, Murdoc, he was a man who would look lovely with Murdoc’s gun pressed squarely between his eyes.

Yet despite his faults, he had been useful.  He’d helped Murdoc escape from the blacksite, and in return, Murdoc had vowed to help him set a trap for MacGyver.  Andrews wanted to broadcast Angus’s death to the heads of a terror cell.  It was his way of “interviewing” to become the head of the organization.  And what would Murdoc get out of this arrangement?  Other than his freedom, he would be given the opportunity to play with MacGyver before Andrews dealt the final blow.

So Murdoc used Andrews to escape the blacksite, and together they set this ingenious little trap for the genius himself.  He’d used Andrews and his resources as a means of playing his newest game.  He smiled and nodded when Andrews spouted his rhetoric, adjusted his plans as Andrews directed, and valiantly kept from gutting the egocentric wackadoodle – somehow – during the course of their time together.  He’d almost snapped and killed the guy, once.

He hated the way that Andrews spoke about his Angus MacGyver, gloated about how cathartic it would be to see the light go out of those blue eyes.  How he relished the notion of feeling MacGyver’s life sleep away, how he fantasized about wrapping his chains around that smooth, pale neck and squeezing , slowly and intimately, with all of Codex watching – after Murdoc had had his fun with him, of course.

Murdoc’s profession had always allowed him to maintain a rather fluid lifestyle, and until MacGyver had come onto the scene, the killer had moved from one job to the next without distraction.  He had never been one to get caught up or fixated on any one thing – as a killer, he understood the impermanence of life in a way few others could.

That is, until Angus “Boy Wonder” MacGyer.  Suddenly, Murdoc had a muse, a partner in his games, a worthy opponent, his very own Sherlock to his Moriarty.  And the thought of anyone – especially Andrews, that self-important crackpot who was so empty all he could do was spout the words of people who’d come before him – looking at Angus MacGyver with that kind of fire in their eyes, that kind of hatred, that dark intent, stirred something primal and angry deep within the hollow, twisted remnants of Murdoc’s soul.  Even worse was hearing that obnoxious, pedantic voice boasting about all the ways he planned to hurt MacGyver, all the ways he planned to kill him in front of a live studio audience.  A foregin, almost protective rush had overcome Murdoc.  The things that Andrews described, the torture, the killing itself – those were things that no one except for Murdoc himself could do to Angus MacGyver.

Murdoc could have snapped and killed him, then.  He almost had.  The trap had been set, MacGyver would soon be on his way.  Murdoc could take out Andrews in one surprise hit and wait for his BFF to arrive.  They might even get some time alone together before the rest of the love triangle showed up.  But he had stayed his hand.  He needed Andrews to contact Codex.  He had a message he needed to send.

And so he’d resisted the drumbeats of death so loud they blocked out his thoughts, and hadn’t put a bullet between Andrews’s eyes.

And now, here he was, in the moment of truth.  It had been a bold move, out of character, if you will, for Murdoc to take on MacGyver in hand-to-hand combat.  Normally, Murdoc avoided using brute force, not because it wasn’t fun – because, boy howdy, was it fun – but because his tools were much more precise than fists, and could cause more pain with less chance of unintended damage.

But this was a special occasion, and he allowed himself to indulge.  And it was a truly delicious situation, made all the more exhilarating with the knowledge that so many people were watching him work.  Not Codex – he hadn’t given a rat’s ass about Codex in that moment – but Phoenix, whom Murdoc had just manipulated and played with like a puppet master with his creepy little mannequins.  He kept an eye on the girls, and chills ran down his body as he saw the fear and desperation in their eyes, the way they strained helplessly against their bonds to get to their friend who was himself completely at Murdoc’s mercy.  He couldn’t see Matilda or Bozer or Taylor, but he could hear the fear in their voices when they spoke, and his mind’s eye conjured a splendid picture of their terrified eyes fixated on the screen, forced to watch as their golden boy was beaten and eventually murdered in front of them.  It was glorious .  Murdoc wished that moment could go on forever.

He truly had relished every hit he’d landed on MacGyver.  Bless him, he tried to fight back, but he was just a spy trained in field comat.  Murdoc was a killer.  Just because he didn’t use his fists that much anymore, it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to.  He was quick, and stronger than his lithe frame would suggest.  Beneath the long-sleeved shirts and black leather jackets, lean, deadly muscles lurked like a snake in the grass, always ready to strike – and strike fast.  Every kick, every hit, every punch to the face sent bolts of electricity up Murdoc’s arms.  He saw the moment when MacGyver’s cheek split open, watched the blood slowly trickle down as he wound up for another hit.  After about three hits directly to the face, MacGyver couldn’t hold himself up anymore and he made weak, desperate grabs for Murdoc’s jacket.  Murdoc felt the tug on the fabric, relished the feeling of MacGyver needing him in that moment.  When he threw MacGyver against the heavy metal support, he felt like a god.

Now here we was, with his greatest foe having literally just been under his boot.  His left hand was wrapped around MacGyver’s right wrist, pinning it down, his knee pressed against the half-conscious agent’s chest to keep him in place.  In his hands he held a tool that, as he had said moments ago, would be the most poetic end to MacGyver he could have concocted – finally silenced by one of his own fancy little inventions.  For a moment, Murdoc was tempted to plow ahead, not to kill, but to play, to hurt , to watch the dazed fear in his muse’s eyes turn to pain and sheer terror… but he had more important things to do.  Maybe he would take this toy with him when he left, and save it to use on MacGyver another day.

He leaned in close, his knee pressing harder into MacGyver’s sternum, and the boy wonder grunted in pain, gasped for breath.  Murdoc leaned closer, his face inches from his prey’s, and watched MacGyver’s concussed eyes go wide at the close proximity.  Murdoc noted with satisfaction that he’d really done a number on his blue-eyed buddy this time – the pupils were unequal, one dilated and the other not.  Murdoc whispered in Mac’s ear, “Don’t worry, friend, I would never let a pig like Andrews kill you.  I’ve got your back.”  He pulled back and winked conspiratorially.  Then, in one fluid motion, he dropped the torch, drew his gun, and shot Eric Andrews one, two, three times, right in his smug, ugly face.  The general didn’t even have time to be surprised by the betrayal.  He was already dead.

From across the room, Murdoc could hear one of the girls – probably the loud, bossy girlfriend – yelling something, but he didn’t pay attention.  Instead, he gripped MacGyver by the front of his jacket, hauled him to his feet (sort of; MacGyver slumped in Murdoc’s arms, unable to stand on his own, but Murdoc had no problem with that at all), and stood there facing the drone.  He could feel MacGyver trembling in pain, and it nearly sickened him that he was going to cut this meeting short.  Still, once he took care of this pesky Codex visit, he could look forward to plenty more games with his adversarial soulmate in the future.

Glaring up at the camera, Murdoc gave Mac’s weak, beaten form a little shake.  “See this guy?” he demanded, not waiting for an answer.  In the second of dead space between his question and answer, he did notice that Desiree had stopped yelling.  No one at the Phoenix was speaking.  Everyone was waiting, he knew, with bated breath, to see how this would turn out.  “Angus MacGyver, here, is mine. ”  He felt MacGyver stir weakly in his arms, protesting Murdoc’s claim even when concussed and barely cognizant.  “Hush, now, Angus,” Murdoc hissed.  “I’m trying to save your life.”

To Codex, he continued, “I love a good murder as much as the next guy.  Hell, more than the next guy.  Way more than him, actually.  So much more that I’ll kill the next guy just to scratch that itch.”  He grinned his most feral grin.  “But MacGyver is not on the market, you hear me?  The only one who is allowed to murder him is me .  Your Andrews was pathetic, a great brute who pretended at being a scholar because it made him feel important.  I meant what I said earlier, fellas – and ladies – this guy is so smart.  Way too smart for the likes of you.  Too smart for Andrews.”

He bared his teeth, shaking MacGyver once more to emphasize his point.  “Angus is my muse.  He’s my dance partner in this crazy murder-tango we’ve been doing for the past few years.  You thought I was being dramatic when I started reminiscing about the good old days earlier?”  He paused, thought, then amended, “Okay, so I was being dramatic, but I meant. Every. Word.  And it all boils down to this: The only one who’s going to end his life is me .”

A voice from the speakers, a female’s, cold and dead, offered, “Then kill him now.  Perhaps we can find a place in Codex for one as ruthless as you.”

Murdoc laughed out loud, throwing his head back.  His body trembled with giggles, and he heard MacGyver emit a grunt of pain at the motion.  “Whoops, sorry, buddy,” he apologized giddily, then shook him a bit more, this time for fun.  MacGyver stayed steadfastly quiet this time – bor -ing!

Murdoc sobered in an instant, letting every ounce of hatred, death, and chaos flood his gaze as his lips set into a thin line and he tightened his grip on MacGyver, who pushed feebly against his arms.  “You really think I want to be a part of your girl scout troop?  Please.  Codex before Angus MacGyver happened to it, maybe.  But now?  You all are ridiculous, dethroned kings who scrabble hungrily for any crumb left to you in your moldering ruins.  You aren’t powerful.  You aren’t smart.  That Leland was the only good thing you had going for you, and now he’s gone.”  He all but purred his next words: “And with what, a shot to the chest?  Precisely aimed, almost like a hit man had taken him out?  Hmmm….”

“ You are claiming responsibility for Leland’s death?”

Murdoc shrugged.  He finally, reluctantly released his grip on MacGyver, and the blonde tumbled to the floor.  Murdoc watched from the corner of his eye as he immediately began to drag himself slowly, agonizingly, away from Murdoc and toward his gal pals.  Murdoc rolled his eyes and clamped his boot down on MacGyver’s bruised back once more, effectively pinning him in place.  Too easy.  He peered into the camera again, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and hissed, “Believe what you want about Leland’s death.  But do you really want to mess with the bastard who killed this great paragon of new wave terrorism?  Not saying it was me, but damn.  Whoever this guy is must be one tough cookie.  And I would advise you, friends ,” – never had that word held so much derision – “to not play with his toys.”  He ground his heel into MacGyver’s back a little deeper.  “The TL;DR?  MacGyver is off-limits.  If you kill him, I kill you, ten times more slowly and painfully than I plan to kill him.  Got it?”

Without giving the council a chance to respond, he raised his gun and shot the drone out of the air.  He tossed the gun aside, sighed, and stepped off of a weakly moving MacGyver.  He grabbed the genius under the armpits and dragged him to the opposite side of the room from the girls.  Producing another zip tie, Murdoc secured MacGyver to the nearest piece of equipment and stood back to observe his handiwork.  Paying no mind to the sorry state he was in, Angus was already stubbornly pulling himself up to a sitting position, bloody face set in pain and determination.  “You,” he panted, lifting his eyes up to meet Murdoc’s, “are insane.”

Murdoc laughed.  “I thought we’d already established that long ago, dear.”

“Don’t call me,” MacGyver wheezed, “dear.  Despite your… delusions, I do not … belong to you.  Or to anybody.”

“Expect maybe Miss Davis?” Murdoc mocked.  “And please , Angus.  Can’t you see that I was just putting on a show for the ‘evil Zoom meeting’?”  He hadn’t been, and he could tell that MacGyver was seeing straight through his lie.  “Look,” Murdoc said, “I hate it when we fight.  How about we both take some time and pick this back up when we’ve had a little time to heal and reflect?”

Through gritted teeth, MacGyver growled, “How about you go away and never come back?”

“Tsk, tsk, Angus .  That isn’t any way to treat your rescuer.  But you are concussed, so I’ll let it slide.  Actually, I need to motor.  Now that the situation’s neutralized, the authorities will be all over this place.  I really don’t fancy going back to that blacksite, so I’ll leave you here to wait for your buddies.”  He bent down, patted MacGyver on the face, grinned when his adversary jerked his head away from the touch.  “‘Til next time, Mac .”  He made a face.  “Actually, scratch that.  My calling you Mac is almost as unsettling as Taylor calling Miss Davis Riles .”  He heard an indigent noise from over the comm – he’d almost forgotten Phoenix was listening in, they’d been so quiet.  He chuckled, relishing how fun Russ Taylor was to annoy.  “Anway, I’ll see you soon, Angus.”

Murdoc removed the comm and crushed it under his boot, then backed away and sauntered from the room, whistling his slow, eerie funeral dirge, “Home on the Range.”

He knew that even while injured and concussed, MacGyver would be out of the zipties and releasing his friends before the polícia arrived.  He’d then be whisked away to a hospital, and all of Phoenix would have to deal with the fallout of the secrets that had been revealed.  He wondered if MacGyver would choose Desiree or Riley.  In the end, though, he knew that it wouldn’t matter who MacGyver chose.  He could deny it all he wanted, but in the end, there would be Murdoc.

There would always be Murdoc.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Tori Amos quotes

- Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.

- I think that people who can't believe in fairies aren't worth knowing.

- I know I'm an acquired taste - I'm anchovies. And not everybody wants those hairy little things.

- Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don't fit into boxes.

- I have so many different personalities in me and I still feel lonely.

- The violence between women is unbelievable.

- I'm too wacky for most weirdos. Who am I to judge?

- If they keep crashing stuff into the moon, the moon's gonna get pissed off, and the tides'll change, and all the women'll start PMS-ing together. Then you guys are going to fucking regret it.

- If you really want a challenge, just deal with yourself.

- I don't see myself as weird, I just see myself as honest.

- I see the dream and I see the nightmare, and I believe you can't have the dream without the nightmare.

- Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much.

- Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.

- On some of my darkest days, Lucifer's the one who comes and gives me an ice cream.

- Most people would rather be sheep than stand on their own with antlers on.

- The sense of loss is such a tricky one, because we always feel like our worth is tied up into stuff that we have, not that our worth can grow with things we are willing to lose.

- When you've got the virgin and the whore sitting next to each other, they're likely to judge each other harshly.

- I think you have to know who you are.

- Get to know the monster that lives in your soul.

- Dive deep into your soul and explore it.

- I don’t want to renounce my dark side.

- The truth has always held an enormous interest for me.

- Healing for me is being able to sit next to the butcher and say 'Yes, I’m sitting next to the butcher now,' instead of saying 'there is no butcher'.

- This is very simple in the world of chicks; some are hoochies, some are not, and some should never try to be.

- We don't often see our own stories. Good artists are the ones that whisper our own stories back to us.

- Music is about all of your senses, not just hearing.

- Again, we go back to the power of words and how they can make you feel. They bring liberation or stagnation, they're chains.

- You don't have to apologize for growing and learning and changing your mind.

- Music has an alchemical quality.

- Certain relationships can just wear you down.

- Containment of your opinion is a must if you are going to nurture an artist's development.

- It's a good thing I'm curious, because sometimes I just research how a soccer player kicks a ball and the impact it has on his foot. I haven't used this yet, but I might.

- But over the years you can cultivate hate for the art you love.

- I don’t believe anyone’s story is boring. Every story has value because it belongs only to you.

- Sometimes I fantasize backstage about how people do their laundry. Woolite? Mixed-color loads? Do they fold? Do they press? Do they Shout it out? And the thing that kills me—do their whites come out dingy?

- Our generation has an incredible amount of realism, yet at the same time it loves to complain and not really change.

- We like our pain. And we’re packaging it, and we’re selling it.

- Festivals or radio shows can be the heavyweight championships of arrogantly detached clusterfucks.

- People who are addicted to power can live on the same street or attend the same school as us or even play on the world stage.

- None of us are this light and dark fantasy. What's dark to you may be light to me and vice versa.

- I don't think that many performers necessarily want to see their audience empowered. I think a lot of performers, no different from priests, need the hierarchy.

- Modern, celebrity-driven entertainment turns the stage into an altar, and so many celebrities refuse to be removed from those altars once they manage to ascend.

- All storytellers, all troubadours worth their salt knew their myths.

- The Sídh's historical myth is the source of the bastardized concept of a fairy—as if anyone gives a rat's ass.

- The problem with Christianity is, they think everything is about outside forces, good and evil. There's not a lot of inner work encouraged.

- Over the last few hours I've allowed myself to feel defeated, and just like she said if you allow yourself to feel the way you really feel, maybe you won't be afraid of that feeling anymore.

- I'm the queen of the nerds.

- Don't give up. Don't listen to these foolish critics that are so small minded they don't get it tonight.

- Sometimes listening to music can motivate you.

- I think even in a good marriage, especially if you stay together long enough, there are going to be events that happen.

- An ounce of breast milk is even more potent than the finest tequila.

- Music is always a reflection of what's going on in the hearts and minds of the culture.

- Many people lock a part of themselves away. It's a bit sacred.

- I've always seen the songs as having a consciousness.

- Our world is a huge mess right now, and not big enough for masses of intolerant people.

- We are all fairies living underneath a leaf of a lily pad.

- That is some funky-fresh, pop lockin' shit.

- If I saw someone destroy a piano I'd fuckin' kill 'em. Wouldn't think twice.

- I experiment with things that are usually an internal experience, because that's just what excites me. And yes, it does sometimes give me visions.

- Some of those trips were eighteen hours long and I'll never forget, once I ended up sitting by the bush trying to ask the flowers why they didn't like me. It's like, Why can't I be your friend?

- You might not like my story because I'm not gonna tell you how it ends yet, and you need to travel it with me.

- I just imagined a huge juicy vagina coming out of the sky, raining blood over all those racist, misogynist fuckers.

- You can't control your popularity

- If you can't create physical life, you find a life force. If that's in music, that's in music.

- I started to find this deep, primitive rhythm, and I started to move to it.

-I held hands with sorrow, and I danced with her, and we giggled a bit

- I usually get myself into situations that cause sparks.

- I love feeling alive, I love walking out in the cold in my bare feet and feeling the ice on my toes.

- For the most part, pianos are female to me.

- Anger is natural. It's part of the force. You just have to learn to hang out with it.

- In our minds, love and lust are really separated.

- I think all the boys that write the screaming stuff would write the best love songs

- When you stop putting yourself on the line, and you don't touch your own heart, how do you expect to touch other people?

- Guys would sleep with a bicycle if it had the right color lip gloss on. They have no shame. They're like bull elks in a field.

- Your worst enemies are made when you ignore people.

- It's as if the horses have come to take us back, to descend, to find the dark side. By dark I mean what's hidden, not necessarily satanic.

- There's room for everybody on the planet to be creative and conscious if you are your own person. If you're trying to be like somebody else, then there is isn't.

- Sometimes you have to do what you don't like to get to where you want to be.

- You know that saying, bad things don't happen to good people? That's a lie.

- I'm not a habit, I'm a lifestyle.

- There are a lot of hidden nerds.

- People who become the front runners often used to be outcasts or loners.

- Um, don't get me wrong because I love boys, it's just that sometimes we don't need you.

- There are only ten ideas under the sun. What makes the difference is how you spice them.

- So I'm in Virginia, and I had crabs--I keep saying that! I had crab sickness, I had eaten bad crabs in Maryland!

- I'm a winter girl; I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.

- You can only be you. A lot of times it's never enough for people.

- I've never played the guitar, except throwing it against the wall cause it was pissed off I couldn't play it.

- Truly, I was a sweetheart when I was little, like the Honeysuckle Faery. Sweet-pea. But sweet-peas are not popular after second grade. Sweet-peas become nerds really fast.

- I really enjoy having a giggle with a friend, but then someone crosses my line, then I don't really take it lightly.

- I sometimes forget I'm not 7'2" and a Viking.

- A boundary was crossed. And maybe I drew a boundary, consciously.

- It was a bit violent, a bit sexual.

- When nothing makes sense, music seems to come and bring me a margarita and sit down with me.

- You don't have to justify everything. Being pissed off is just absolutely okay.

- There is a level of the vampire in me, which is OK.

- It hurts me when a woman doesn't come through for me, more than a man.

- I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.

- What is an angel but a ghost in drag?

- I'm beginning to accept and love the parts of me, of women that I was trained to hate all my life.

- People can be so vicious toward the imaginary world and it saddens me. You kill a lot of little people's dreams that way.

- Even if you don't read history or you aren't interested in anything that happened before the '60s, there are reasons why we think the way we do.

- That's how the story goes but I don't believe the story.

- I would find myself either the lovey-doveyest-woviest sweet pea, or a mad-woman.

- I believe in eating.

- You can't change what happened. And nobody's asking you to forgive.

- Why be afraid of these cuddly, soft, adorable things?

- I have good days. Like if I get really good coffee ice cream with just the right amount of chocolate syrup.

- A lot of people see themselves as victims, even when you have to stand in line for ice cream.

- It's so difficult to be critical of children because they need to discover themselves. We're always telling them, "No, the tree has green leaves!"

- I'm tired of being a rebel. Now I just want to be me.

- When things get really empty for me, empty in my outer life, in my inner life, the music world, the songs come across galaxies to find me.

- Do you know what it's like to be a girl and have blood running down your legs and think that you're dying, just because no one's told you that's what happens? It's horrible.

- An angel's face is tricky to wear constantly.

- Mess with me and you will not survive.

- I think that happiness is when you can let yourself feel every emotion you want at any time instead of being a lying little fuck.

- I'm not into this dieting thing.

- The cross has been used as a weapon, as it has been used against all women throughout the ages. And that's the greatest evil of all.

- I think you've got to find a giggle somewhere in stuff that would scare the poop outta ya.

- A cornflake girl is Wonderbread whereas a raisin girl is whole wheat bread.

- I would like to think I'm a raisin girl, because in my mind they're more open minded. Cornflake girls are totally self centered, don't care about anything or anybody.

- I like butter and the people who like butter."

- I'm known as that girl who has tea with the Devil.

- I'm not afraid of sadness.

- Everybody has creativity and each person has it in a different way. Some people aren't musical, some musicians can't even think about painting or gardening. There's so many different ways to be creative.

- I wanna be burned, definitely burned, like the witches.

- Give the kids tools, so they can go build their own houses; not the blueprint of what the houses should be.

- Look at me now. I'm breast feeding pigs.

- I wish I had more of a sense of humor.

- I can be so hard on people.

- If somebody's being a jerk, I would like to go wee on their head. And then I do that, mentally.

- The people on the internet know more about what I am doing than I do. Like, they will say that I am going to be in this mall on this day, and sure enough, I am there!

- I'm like a lioness who kills her own prey and no one else has to kill for her. But if some other lioness comes to me and says "I just got a good prey, do you want a piece?" I can say "of course" - and the other way around.

- There are things that I would disagree with Jesus about, and I feel really good about that.

- History has recorded some pretty nasty things that have happened to people. I think we remember. I think it's in our cells and I think it can still hurt sometimes."

- I don't believe in the saying that it all happens for the best, it's just not appropriate.

- Of course I believe in past lives, I mean, three quarters of the human race believes this, it's not like a great new thought here.

- I use innocence in my demeanor like a Venus flytrap.

- I do like to talk about things no one wants to hear at the dinner table.

- I'm not interested in being a really nice person; I want to be a creative, responsible person that's balanced.

- Boys are cute but food is cuter

- Do any of you dream about crocodiles?

-I know I dream about crocodiles. I'm obsessed with them.

- If people can't see things from the other side that's not my problem, it's theirs.

- I think I give equal time in my hatred, right?

- Sometimes I'm mad at some guy, sometimes I'm mad at some girl, and sometimes I'm totally loving some guy, so and sometimes I'm loving some girl.

_ Well, Pele is the volcano goddess and I thought of like, um, sacrificing some of the boys in my life to her but then I decided that that wasn't really a very good idea.

- Anger originates from envy and outrage, not being seen, not being heard.

- We don't know where souls go when they die. We don't know a lot of things. We didn't create the planets. We didn't do this all by ourselves. So, therefore, why wouldn't there be a creative force if it can create humans and planets?

- I've been hanging out with some of the Hell's Angels in England. They're some of the sweetest people I've ever met.

- Real friends have to be understanding of each other, and their faults.

- I think I'm really hard to get to know on a personal level.

- Thailand is calling me.

- People I see laughing all the time, check for razor blades in their anal-force underwear, because it's just a little lie.

- I'm not interested in taking drugs. I do hallucinogens once in a while for journey experiences.

- I hear the wine. It's like a structure. I see it as a piece. I hear it before I taste it. It's calling me. And then I start to hear it when I'm tasting it.

- Not that I use crystal suppositories, I'm not New Age.

- A peach tree says, 'Some of me will be juicy and some of me will be dry I'm not growing for you; I grow because that's what I do.' You always hear some person complain about how dry their peach is and the peach says, 'It's not our fault you have no understanding on the proper use for dry peaches.'

- My theory is that women were the Mona Lisas for a long time and now men are Mona Lisas with little goatees. They are our muses.

- If you're gonna tell a story, you have to grow into the head of the rapist as well as the raped.

- He was a lite sneeze, and not the flu. Most boys would like to think they're the flu, wouldn't they? But they're really just a achoo.

- If you call me an airy-fairy new age hippy waif, I will cut your penis off.

- It's a double-edged sword and if you pretend you don't want it you're a liar and that is going to rip your soul to pieces.

- I'm always dreaming that these bulls are chasing me. Half the time I don't get away - I almost get over the fence, and then they gore me.

- I believe in energy, everything is energy. And therefore sometimes magic can be created if somebody is open to letting energy do what it does, instead of being so cynical, that you miss magic happening.

- I feel like a work really has many sides to it when people have such extreme reactions. When a work is greeted with just, 'Oh, you know, it's nice', then it's not affecting people. So love it or hate it, that's okay.

- I am a real believer in looking at pain and taking it out shopping.

- The music is the magic carpet that other things take naps on.

- I just try to strip myself, peel myself like an onion. At different layers I discover stuff.

- Why is the world where it is? It's so deep-rooted, if we really start looking, and we might not like what we find. But I think we have to, we have to ask the questions.

- I'm beyond the fury of youth.

- I love young women who are angry. They're wild mustangs.

- I didn't want her looking and hearing me and thinking, "Oh my God, that's a scary lady!"

- They felt that it was detrimental material for their children and that it was blasphemous.

- They've decided they kinda' have you figured out.

- My nightmares are so bad, that I mostly reject it when my friends want to take me to a cinema to watch a horror movie. Then I say, "No, thank you. I will dream in a few hours."

- I don't know of anybody who's gonna be fulfilled if they get hit by a bus. You have to surrender to that eternal need to be fulfilled.

- How do you know I'm not having a margarita with Jesus tonight at 10 o'clock?

- Let's be honest, religion has not supported women and men exploring all sorts of their sides, their unconscious. It has not been supportive of, you know, go into the places without shame, without blame, without judgment, and just let yourself really see what's cooking in there.

- I think human beings are so much more capable of what they told us we're capable of.

- Anyone can attend yoga, kabbalah classes, church, lectures by the 'Dalai Lama', yada, yada, yada - but can you be present for your life, and live with the way you treat other people?

- Only a few people should have a "greatest hits". I'm not one of those people.

- I feel like our leaders have hijacked America's personality, and taken her to personality plastic surgery school. And they decided this is who she is.

- The playground is the biggest war-zone in the world.

- You have to read visionaries to have visions.

- They squash the baby bird because their bird got squashed.

- I love reading. I'll read the first sentence and if it makes sense to me I pick it up.

- It's ridiculous saying there's only one true faith, it's like saying there's only one map to get you up the mountain. I want to see those other maps, man.

- I kinda have all the aspects of my personality round one table for spaghetti.

- If it's too loud, turn it up.

- I was doing drugs with a South American shaman, and I really did visit the devil and, well, I had a journey.

- There is no passion without broken crockery.

- You have to ask, how could a nation nearly vote in somebody who isn't qualified for the job?

- We're living in a frightening time and I wish people would wake up and realise they're surrendering their civil liberties.

- Who wouldn't want to shag a queen?

[picficskpopstyle]

Immoral (Part 10)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

Group: BTS

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

You'd stopped drinking about an hour ago but your head was definitely swimming. Hoseok had been laughing and smiling for the past 10 minutes. Jimin's speech slurred every so often and his eyes were slightly lidded. Jungkook had passed out with Tae in Jimin's room about 15 minutes ago. Yoongi...well, you couldn't really tell just how far along he was. Rather than looking drunk, he somehow managed to just look tired.

“I really wouldn’t have expected you to come here” Jimin laughed, face reddened. Yoongi tilted his cup, drinking the last of whatever fruity concoction Hobi had mixed. He put his empty cup on the floor beside him.

“Why not? I’m getting to know you guys” Yoongi answered.

Jimin's smile quickly slid into a frown and he covered it by taking a sip from his cup.

"Getting to know some a little better than others," he grumbled, finishing the last of his drink. There was a slight pause as you stared at Jimin. Obviously, he was referring to you. Even if it was just a hint of it, you could hear his jealousy seep out. Hoseok must've heard it too because he seamlessly came up with a cover story.

"Yeah, we've seen you with Amanda-" Hobi teased, nudging Yoongi's arm. 

"-well, you have her until Jungkook comes around" he laughed. Yoongi didn't seem to notice the light tension in the air and you mentally thanked Hoseok.

"She scares me a little," Yoongi laughed. 

Jimin's eyes connected with yours for a split second and you stood up.

"I'm going to head out," you announced. You gathered the mess you made and headed into their small kitchen area. As you dumped your trash in the bin, Jimin walked in and leaned against the fridge. He looked you over, knowing that he'd messed up...again.

"___-" he started, apology geared up.

"Jimin, you don't need to apologize" you sighed. Truthfully, if you were comparing his past self with now, his snarky comment was basically a compliment.

He went quiet and watched you turn to face him. 

"I've been trying" he offered with a smile. He scratched the back of his head and you kicked yourself for finding it cute. You were not in the right mindset for any of this.

"Yeah, I know. I appreciate it" you smiled back. There was a quiet moment between the two of you until Hobi's laugh echoed throughout the building. 

"Come on" Jimin said, opening his arms. You walked into his hug and he kissed your cheek as usual.

"See you tomorrow" he said, releasing you. He walked with you back to the other boys and you slid your shoes on.

"It is 4 in the morning," Hoseok commented, eyes on his phone screen.

"4? We have church in, like, 5 hours" Yoongi said, sitting up. 

"Yeah, you might want to get some sleep," Jimin suggested. Yoongi scratched his forehead and grabbed his keys from the table. He looked down at them and sighed.

"I need to call a car or something," he groaned.

"I can drive your car to the church tomorrow," Jimin offered. He reached his hand out and Yoongi tossed his keys to him. 

"Can you walk ___ home? Your ride will probably get there by the time you make it to her place" Hoseok asked, beginning to clean up. Jimin didn't comment, instead moving to help clean up. 

"Uhh, yeah, sure" Yoongi agreed. Not wanting to make Jimin any more uncomfortable, you walked to Hobi and gave him a hug goodbye. He roughly pressed his lips into your cheek and you complained, smacking him away. Hoseok laughed and let you go, throwing a goodbye in Yoongi's direction.

Yoongi pulled his shoes on and said his goodbyes as he opened the door for you.

"Hoseok's fruit drink-" he said as the door closed behind you. You began walking down the hall as he tried to sort through his confusion.

Yoongi's eyebrows were drawn together as he ruffled his hair.

"You're starting to feel it?" you laughed. He looked at you and smiled, walking into the elevator. 

"My entire body just started heating up" he laughed with you. You nodded your head, completely understanding.

"You should never accept one of those after he's already been drinking. There's no telling how much alcohol he put in it" you grinned. Yoongi closed his eyes and tilted his head up.

"Church is going to be awful" he groaned before laughing.

"Well, he only gave you half of a cup so, maybe it won't be so bad?" you offered optimistically. The elevator pinged and the two of you stepped off. The walk to the exit was quick and you sighed in relief at the cool breeze gliding over your skin.

Yoongi must've felt it too because something that sounded suspiciously like a moan seeped from his lips.

"Seriously, my body feels like it is on fire," he said. You laughed and pulled his arm in the direction of your place. 

"This way" you smiled. Yoongi looked at your profile from head to toe and lightly shook his head. He had a snarky comment but now wasn't the time to go there. 

"You couldn't have changed out of that dress" his lips asked anyway and without his permission. Liquid courage.

You looked down at your dress, continuing the path to your place. You remembered his comments from the banquet and smiled.

"This is a normal dress" you laughed.

"I can almost see through it and it is incredibly short" he said, openly staring at your thigh.

"It goes mid-thigh and it's not my fault that you can't help fantasizing about me" you teased. Yoongi rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smile.

"It's hard not to fantasize when I'm being seduced" he argued. Your mouth dropped open and he laughed at your animated expression.

"Mid-thigh means that when you bend over, it just barely covers your...important parts" he said, controlling his language.

"Ohhh, I see what this is about" you said, ears burning. Yoongi waited for your explanation with confusion carved into his face.

"You can't stop thinking about bending me over, right?"

Yoongi licked his lips and looked forward, refusing to answer. The hint of a smile gave him away and you laughed.

"See? I told you in your office that we needed rules or this would be hard for you" you gloated. Yoongi scoffed and watched you stick your tongue out to tease him. There was a small moment of silence as your mind played through the possibilities of him bending you over. The thought itself was making your panties wet.

"So, what's the plan after that?" 

"What do you mean?" he asked quizzically.

"After I'm bent over? What’s next? Are you going to spank me?" you asked. Yoongi made an impressed face. You seemed to be getting more comfortable with him as the hours went by. Or, well, you could just be hopped on liquid courage like he was. 

The two of you finally reached your building and he sighed, knowing the conversation would be coming to a close soon. He pushed the button for the elevator and the doors opened immediately. 

"So?" you asked, still waiting for an answer. Yoongi watched as the elevator doors closed and smiled before looking over at your expectant face.

"I think I would have to taste you before I did anything else" he said, watching your reaction. You looked away from him for a second and swallowed, not sure what to say next. Surely there was a way to tease him but just the thought of his tongue on you made you hot. 

He chuckled lightly at your silence and tried to subtly adjust himself. The elevator pinged again and the two of you stepped off to head toward your place. 

"-but I know you wouldn't let me get that far" he said, eyes on you. His growing bulge throbbed in his pants.

You reached your door and turned around to look at him.

"You sure about that?" you asked, pressing your back against the door. Yoongi tilted his head down and kissed your lips, putting one hand on your hip and another on your neck. His thumb lightly brushed your earlobe as his tongue pushed your lips apart. With every new part of him that interacted with your body, you felt a new sensation. His fingers dug into your hips while his torso softly pressed into you. His kisses were urgent but his pacing was somehow still manageable. 

Yoongi hiked one of your legs over his hip, sliding his hand over your thigh and pushing the lacy material of your dress upward. The bulge in his jeans met with your wet panties and you moaned, breaking his kiss. Yoongi relocated his mouth to your neck, biting down with just enough force to make your eyes cross. 

Your hips angled just a bit, allowing even more pressure to build between his bulge and your clothed slit. You moaned in time with his grunt and he licked your neck, sucking the skin there. 

Yoongi could feel himself become more and more frustrated as he tried to thrust his hips. Standing in your doorway just wasn't going to cut it.

"Door" he moaned against you. He allowed you to turn around, releasing your leg, and heard the sound of you fumbling with your keys. He used that time to fiddle with the zipper on your dress. Just as he got the zipper down, you'd gotten the door open and began pulling him inside. Yoongi kicked the door shut behind him and used his feet to start removing his shoes, all the while watching your dress hit the ground. His eyes stopped on your bra and smirked.

"Lacy bra too, huh?" his voice came out gravelly. You nodded and walked around him, his eyes following you across the room. With one hand, you reached behind and slowly undid the clasps on your bra. With the other, you dug in the second drawer of your dresser to pull out a condom. You tossed it to him and he fumbled to catch it, watching your bra hit the ground next.

Walking toward your bed, you kicked your shoes off and hooked your fingers into the waistband of your panties but kept them on. Lying on the bed, you gazed up at Yoongi who'd pulled off his hoodie and tossed it in the center of the room. His fingers worked on unbuttoning his jeans while he came closer to you. He bent over at the waist, licking his tongue to one nipple then the other. 

At this point, you were so turned on that you could feel your inner walls clenching. Nearly breathless, you looked into Yoongi's eyes as he licked and kissed his way down your stomach. You could hear yourself panting despite the fact that he had yet to fully touch you. 

Yoongi's tongue touched the fabric of your panties and he internally groaned as you bit your bottom lip in anticipation. To your surprise, instead of taking your panties off, Yoongi flattened his tongue over your slit. He roughly spread your legs using both of his hands and sucked your clit through your panties. He broke eye contact and you finally felt free to close your eyes. The feeling of his suction mixed with the fabric of the panties was mind numbing and you moaned deeply.

Yoongi rubbed his thumb across your clothed nub and sucked his mouth to your inner thighs, biting and kissing the flesh there. He felt your hips bucking against him and he used his free hand to restrain you. After a few seconds of being unable to ride his face as you pleased, you got the message to stay still. His thumb moved just a bit more forcefully against your clit and you groaned, letting your legs fall open even wider. 

Yoongi reached into his unfastened jeans and squeezed his cock, a moan escaping him. This was all getting to be too much. He was so hard that it was beginning to hurt. 

He moved your panties to the side and licked his bare tongue across your naked slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you cried out as he quickly began flicking his stiffened tongue over your clit. Your arm reached above your head, desperately trying to grab anything but could only find your pillow. Your fingers clawed into the pillow as your back arched and you panted. Yoongi stopped moving his tongue and immediately sucked your clit into his mouth. 

The tension fell just a bit and your fingers loosened their grip. Why did he stop? You'd been so close. The thought to open your eyes crossed your mind but before you could do so, Yoongi slid two fingers into your pussy. He slowly began sawing them in and out of you, his lips still tightly hugged around your clit. Once again, you could feel your walls clenching and releasing. 

Yoongi noticed it too and smiled to himself, knowing that he'd be experiencing it in a minute. He pulled his mouth and fingers away from you and listened to you protest. Pushing his pants to the ground, Yoongi grabbed the condom and ripped the packaging open with his teeth.

Impatient, you pulled your panties off and tossed them away. You squeezed one of your breasts and slid your other middle finger to your clit. A sigh left your body as you put pressure back where you needed it. Yoongi's eyes were stuck to your fingers, watching as you'd circle your clit a few times before plunging your fingers inside. He groaned, slipping the condom on. Waiting for your fingers to return to your clit, Yoongi lined himself to your opening and slowly pushed in. 

"Oh God~" he breathed, his eyes closing. Your finger stuttered over your clit as you felt him stretch you open. 

Once he was fully inside, Yoongi sat still for a second, letting your walls grip and massage him. After a few seconds, he pulled out about halfway and flexed his hips to dive back in. You licked your parted lips, your fingers completely stalled as he slowly rocked into you. With every thrust, a moan squeezed out of your lips.

You watched Yoongi grab one of your legs and push it upward through lidded eyes. Once he had more clearance, his thrusts became harder, making the bed rock. He grunted and your eyes clamped shut as his rough thrusts began to pick up speed. Your breasts bounced in time with the knocking of your headboard and his grunts.

Once again, your fingers rubbed at your clit and your head rolled to the side. You clenched your teeth, feeling yourself reach the edge. Your lower half started trembling and before you could scream, Yoongi pressed his lips to yours. Your walls squeezed the life out of him as you came explosively, his orgasm pushing through immediately after. Your nipples poked into his torso as he rested against you, your breathing patterns seeming to be in sync.

MASTERLISTS

[dumbkombuchakid]

I’m finding more and more that mindfulness and awareness play a massive role in everything. All the growth I’ve undergone has been rooted in cultivating those skills in myself. 

Getting curious instead of judgmental, asking questions and being objective, letting go of outcome and expectations. All of these things seem tiny and maybe insignificant on paper; but in practice have made all the difference for me.

This past Thursday, I met with my therapist (as I usually do on Thursdays) and she told me she was proud of me. I am so grateful for that feedback, for her helping to contribute to my awareness of myself. Awareness extends beyond the present moment, it encompasses patterns and trends and habits and intentions and consequences. It informs decisions and aids processing and understanding. Awareness is the key to it all.

She commended me for staying in wise-mind while telling her about a situation that was upsetting me. She noted that though I had the opportunity to allow my emotions to take control, to pull me into a spiral, I made a choice to remain in control. That’s not what I would’ve done a year ago. That might not even be what I would’ve done a few months ago. Her providing that feedback about my new patterns and trends, specifically my ability to abstain from following old, maladaptive patterns and trends, brought that new data into my awareness. It’s very difficult to be cognizant of your own patterns. It requires parallel processing of data about several versions of yourself in different but comparable situations across a timeline. That’s not a skill that comes naturally; that depth of data about each version of ourselves just isn’t stored. 

I am proud of myself. I’m proud of my ability to say that I’m proud of myself; proud of my capacity to believe that I’m proud of myself. For the larger majority of my life (I’m talkin 1st 19 years) I refused to allow pride to penetrate my consciousness. I grew up fearing that I’d slip into narcissism and lose who I was, instead developing into some spawn of my father; a figure I’d associated with all things self-centered and antisocial. Any shred of pride or self-esteem was too great a risk; I’d rather be humble and miserable but secure in my pro-social self-appraisal. I vividly remember the day I felt true self worth for the first time. It was in june, a month before I’d turn 20. That day came a few years after another significant (in hindsight) day when I began working with my current therapist. I fear I may accidentally catalog the past several years here for the sake of clarity and continuity, but the main takeaway point is that I’ve undergone immense growth, all a result of my own innervism.

Innervism is a term I’m borrowing from Elizabeth Lesser, the author of the book Cassandra Speaks. It refers to inward awareness and intentional growth. Tuning in to tune up. If not for facing the things about myself that I didn’t want to get true, I’d never have reached a point where I’m able to act with intention and display a self of whom I’m proud.

I’m far from perfect, and I’ve made a personal vow to never stop growing, learning, listening, and adapting. I will never reach my final form; there is always room for growth.

My point in writing right now is to address some of the cognitive behaviors I’ve noticed myself exhibit when in relationships. In the beginning, when things are wonderful and new and affection has a strong presence, I latch on. I start to fantasize about the future and how my life could play out with this other individual by my side, treating me the way they do at the beginning. 

This tendency to idealize based on that first impression, that best-behavior scenario, extends into the period when things begin to slip. When the negligence begins, when manipulative tactics begin being employed. When I am expected both to change myself and also to unilaterally accept the other’s lack of change. I am projected to grow into a mould that aligns with their current state, rather than the two of us developing into a new shape, together.

Internally, this is accompanied by a fear of communicating my feelings. A hesitation to go against the grain and a tendency to shrink and abide by these new terms of engagement. I get quiet and small and they become all powerful. I am aware of the red flags and harm and damage and yet I remain docile and strive for perfection in their eyes.

This is how I’ve always done it, it’s how I’ve been conditioned to behave in relationships. I’ve been conditioned to accept that A) there will be a power imbalance and B) it will not favor me.

I no longer accept that. Today I did something that past me would not have done. 

A few important things to note about the situation that allowed me to make this development are that:

1. my “picker” is getting pickier. I’ve always fallen into relationships with narcissists in the past, not because I chose them, but because they chose me and I only knew how to go along. This time, in my current relationship, I made a choice as much as they did. The quality of their character actually had a chance to play a role in deciding whether or not the relationship was worth pursuing.

2. I trust them. I trust that they care about me and want this to work. I trust that they want me to be happy and healthy and that they’re willing to grow.

We didn’t talk much today because he had a big day of doing things that I won’t get into, but then tonight when we did finally get to talk, we spent a long time discussing his day in depth and then never shifted to talking about me. Instead, he started multitasking and doing other things and talking and singing to himself. I told him if he wanted to do those things that was fine, but if we were going to be on the phone that I wanted to him to talk to me, to pay me attention. This didn’t actually turn a result, which hurt me.

Eventually, he got tired and said he was going to turn in, and wished me a goodnight. I said goodnight too, without my typical enthusiasm or affection, and he noticed that those were missing. Instead of asking why though, he simply told me to say it like I meant it, since he didn’t believe me. He has a tendency to make jokes when I’d really rather he be serious, and I’ve stopped laughing along and instead stay true to the tone I want to be received. I don’t want to diminish the weight and value my thoughts and feelings deserve. I’ve decided to not accept less than I deserve.

We hung up and I journaled a bit and felt myself getting worked up, and this is where I did a few things I’m proud of.

I called him back. He didn’t answer, so I recorded a snapchat video and told him how certain aspects of our conversation made me feel, and how I had realized that if I didn’t tell him then he’d have no way to know that those things had hurt and upset me.

This was honestly terrifying, and sending it (and not getting an immediate response) made me feel a whole other type of awful. 

I decided to set a timer for 15 minutes and meditate. During my meditation, I focused on a few things. I repeatedly reminded myself that I must let go of outcome; remind myself that I spoke only about my feelings and my feelings deserve to be heard. Silencing all the spiraling thoughts about the conversations that could follow was hard, and I noticed the colors in my awareness shift as more potential outcomes forced their way in. I repeated the mantra “I deserve love” to myself and focused hard on not allowing expectations or theories about what could or may happen in. Those things aren’t real, they’re imagined. I forced myself to choose to refrain from processing events until an event actually occurred.

15 minutes passed and I felt a little lighter. Part of me still really just wanted to cry, but then eventually I got a notification. He said he was sorry, that it was more of a mental hiccup than a true representation of how he feels.

I thanked him - intentionally rerouting from a typical path of saying “it’s okay” in response to an apology. I then wished him sweet dreams and told him we’d talk tomorrow, and I meant it.

It was uncomfortable, I’ll admit. It’s never fun to confront something that hurts you, especially when it’s something or someone that you don’t want to lose. During my meditation I had to remind myself that if someone doesn’t value my feelings or have respect for me, then they aren’t the person I should be with. That’s terrifying - holding people to a higher standard. Choosing to not accept less than what I deserve is something almost completely foreign to me and is fucking scary, but it’s also sort of exhilarating. The idea that mutual respect is now a requirement, that my partner needs to give a shit about me and express that through their behavior is something I deserve. I never used to think about myself as deserving anything - at least not anything good. But now? I put so much effort into who I am and how I treat others. I’m a good, kind, caring person. I know that I am because I do it on purpose. I think that qualifies me as deserving someone who treats me the same. 

It’s 5am now. My sleep schedule is off kilter in a big way. I’m going to finally stop and allow this day to end. I’ve already made a to-do list for tomorrow and I hope the day brings joy. I appreciate you reading what I have to write; it helps me to do this and I hope it helps you to read.

Goodnight and sweet dreams, remember that you deserve love.

[nightklok]

TELL ME ABOUT HOW YOU WRITE PICKLES AND CHARLES PLEASE ;0; what are you inspirations for their dynamic? you write them so in love and it makes me immensely happy

Thank you firstly, means a lot because writing them happy brings me so much joy-even if I probably wrote more angst than fluff of them at a point-jkfl

I have answered Pickles here so I’ll write about Charles and why I write them together with the way I do! :D

Charles

I feel like Charles has a lot more emotions/feelings than the show tries to give him credit for (I like to think that by season 4, he learned to be a little be more emotional around the boys enough as he learned that it’s okay to be a bit emotional if he needs to around them BUT then Doomstar completely wrecked him) 

I really adore trying to write characters that are normally stoic in the show into more gentler/emotional people. I feel like the DVD extra of him taking calls and season 4/Doomstar shows he can be emotional! He has friends outside of Dethklok, his own hobbies/interests, definitely feels something and I don’t think my idea of him is really all that far fetched. He’s not just some asshole in a suit and while he has done questionable things, 9/10 it’s for the sake of Dethklok and not himself (Whoops forgot about Melmord here but even then I think Charles isn’t being selfish because he really does know he’s the only one that keep them in control-Melmord is just a snake oil salesman in a non-existent clown costume or something-)

I do keep in mind that he is a serious person and most likely is even when around people he completely trusts. He’s a person who can be a bit hard to read but he’s also not that hard when you actually get to know him and really know where to look when talking to him. Also I do headcanon that he is autistic but that’s for another story i think

He’s a character that even though I know is emotional inside, he does have to keep a stoic/non-expression look to him on the surface. He has the most important job in his life and he’s well aware of it. Being emotional/expressing anything but seriousness could possibly endanger him and Dethklok. It’s probably not by much because I do think even when he is emotional and can express himself, it’s still controlled to a degree. He can’t just let himself completely break in front of someone, he wouldn’t allow that at all.  I’d imagine he’d have to pretend that he only sees them as coworkers and nothing else or that the band would have to do the same to him or there would be kidnapping attempts. there probably is anyway on a yearly basis but thanks to him, it’s near impossible to do that as they do have highly trained klokateers.

But I still believe even regardless of that that it must get exhausting at times. A warm bed and wanting to sleep in is something that everyone desires to do at least once but they have to get up early and go to work or do whatever they need to do. Charles is human and he’s a human has needs like everyone else. I feel that he does probably have the days where just sleeping in sounds like a wonderful thing to do or that there are stressful days where he’d just need a long bath or something. Because of this, I don’t really seem him as aggressive or overly dominant when off work and in a relationship. Having to take care of a band and basically the world’s economy is exhausting. If he just wants to be taken care of, let him!!

Basically what I’m saying is let the guy take a nap

I do like to try and base off characters/writing off real people/situations so I think I gotta say Brian Epstein who managed the Beatles really helped in figuring out how Charles is like as a manager to Dethklok-I really began researching him around the time I got into the show because of class and it was interesting reading about him and I honestly think he’s one of the best band managers I heard of (next to Peter Grant of course-). I do also relate to Charles in some level though the patience he has I think is really almost inhumane because wow-

I kinda did write Chickles first before this so i might be repeating? So I’ll just leave this as it is but either way, I just like writing him as a little bit more emotional/down to earth. I get that it might be OOC a bit but I feel like the aggressive/dominant part is a little bit way too OOC-

Chickles

I honestly wonder why I write them so in love too if i have to be honest dsflkj

To answer what the inspirations; i feel like a huge factor into why I write them the way do (and probably any other ship) is because while i have had the feeling of falling in love before, i never really had the experience of being in a romantic relationship or went anywhere even close to that with someone. I feel like this is kinda obvious but its about the yearning I kinda do fantasize what it must be like but I do also take what I have learned/read/seen from either relationships I know of personally or seen in media and apply to them. I take both toxic and good relationships to see what I do/don’t want to write when it comes to relationships and what they would/wouldn’t do. I don’t use toxic relationships to completely shape a relationship but rather analyze it, see why it’s toxic in the first place, and see what I can do to either when I write relationships/pairings in general. Obviously I use Addams family’s Morticia and Gomez as a base for writing good relationships in general because who wouldn’t???

I also think writing terribly written Chickles fanfics and even ones with Charles probably help to in writing Charles. Are they near uncomfortable and make me wanna take a shower after reading them? Yes-but reading them not for entertainment/knowing what you’re getting into and then thinking about why you didn’t like it honestly helps in keeping a character in check. Not something I recommend for works that can potentially trigger you but for for those fics that just don’t nail their character right, can be useful in knowing how you don’t want to portray a character/relationship. It can be VERY easy to make Chickles a toxic pairing if you don’t know how to handle them right. Having a character like Charles be with someone like Pickles can be easy to butcher if someone doesn’t really study their characters. Charles doesn’t have to be completely dominant nor is he a Christian Grey-like character that doesn’t seem to know how to properly communicate with his partners. And Pickles is definitely not a weak, submissive person and is stronger/braver than anyone gives him credit for when writing those relationships. I like to think that while one may be a little more dominant/in control of the relationship, they are complete equals. If one needs to be taken care of, the other will step in and help them out.

Writing them that they had knew each other in the Snakes N’ Barrels era/80s has always been basically canon to me too! So I guess it just makes it also a lot easier to write them as in love when I set the stories in dethklok/present day; whatever problems that they had in the beginning that they fear the other might judge/yell/misunderstand for would be long since resolved/handled by the time the show aired. Whether they actually date or not by then kinda depends on the story but either way, they would have a strong relationship. They would have learned about each other, their problems and who they are inside and out. They fall in love with the little things they do and learn to handle any pet peeves with them but accept them as who they are. They have gone through so much together behind the scenes and their relationship to each other probably is one of the few that hasn’t changed when Dethklok got incredibly famous.

Season 3 and onward might be a different story. Though it’s not because of personal grievances but more of just the topic of keeping secrets & not telling the truth when they would’ve most likely been so honest with each other before. And honestly that’s what makes it REALLY devastating to write about; Pickles would know jackshit for at least a few years (Assuming that Season 3 & Season 4 took place within 3 years at best.)  and I don’t think watching someone you really love/care about die in front of you, then come back less than a year later and refuse to talk about why they’re here and give vague/cryptic answers is gonna put things back to normal.  (Maybe one day I’ll finish that fic I poured near 10,000 words in-).

And honestly it’s probably where I would like to explore on their relationship the most but it’s just so damn complex and detailed that I definitely need a lot of time to work on. They’d both want things to go back to normal but by Charles coming back, it signaled that things weren’t as what they used to be and that they most likely won’t be. What used to be a relationship based on comfort, familiarity, and a predicted unpredictability, has become something much more than neither of them have either prepared for. They’ll have to work hard to move past it and accept that like their relationship, things won’t be like they used to be. But with how much time they have spent together and that they still love each other regardless, they’ll be able to go through with this and get their happy ending!! (And I guess this is why I evolved from ‘definitely not the marrying type’ to ‘yeah they definitely get hitched after galaktikon’ because charles and pickles have probably signed a lot of important documents all their lives, so signing a marriage certificate that binds them to each other would be the most sentimental/important document he’s ever signed.)

All in all,they have such good potential writing because it’s just easy to write them for me. From their first meetings to first relationship to getting to be signed to Dethklok, I feel like they have something I probably won’t be able to replicate in other ships. They are an absolute joy to write and getting to explore.

God i could go on forever about them but im gonna stop dlfskj

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: Thunderstorms and Pancakes (Baby Steps Verse)

We had a pretty big storm last week that gave me this plot bunny.  Takes place about a week after Bae comes home to visit.

II

“I should be going.”  He’d been to dinner every night since Bae had come home, at Belle’s insistence.  Since it was Saturday he’d been at the house since lunch, sharing a picnic in the back yard with his son and Emma, Belle and Ruby.  Trevelyn worried that it was too much, but when he’d tried to beg off dinner the night before Belle had reminded him that Emma was only around for another day, and Bae would have to go to New York in a week.  

“It’s still raining pretty hard, are you sure that’s a good idea?”  Belle never mentioned his cane or the limp that was evident, and he never offered any information.  He could see her glance at his leg, though, before frowning at the window.  It had been raining for more than an hour, the summer shower a surprise.

“I’m sure it will let up soon.”  At that moment the windows lit up and a roll of thunder made the house shake.

“I don’t think so, dad.  Remember what happened when I was ten and old man Hubbard drove in a storm like this?  He was lucky to get out of the car before it ended up in the river.”

“Fortunately I don’t pass any rivers on the way home.”  After another flash of lightning the lights flickered.  The rain, rather than receding, seemed to pound harder against the glass.

“I think you should stay in the guest room tonight, Trev.  We’ll all sleep better knowing that you’re not out in this.”  Belle collected the dessert dishes.  Ruby was already sleeping, the baby monitor on the table where Belle could watch her.  Bae and Emma nodded in agreement.

“I don’t want to be an imposition.”  Bae mentioned Hubbard, but Trev remembered another night drive fifteen years ago that had ended in weeks of hospitalization, months of therapy and surgeries, and a cane he still hated with a passion.  He hated how much his knee ached in the rain too.  Staying inside had more than one advantage, but he didn’t want to make Belle do any more work.  It would be strange to sleep in his house again as well.

“You couldn’t be more of an imposition than Bae, and she puts up with him.”  Emma leaned over, hitting Bae’s shoulder with her own.  Their chairs were only inches apart; they liked to touch.  Bae rolled his eyes but leaned into the touch as well.

“I insist.”  Belle briefly squeezed Trev’s shoulder as she returned to the table.  “I think you might still have some things in the back of the closet.  If not Bae probably has something you can borrow to sleep in.”

He did end up needing to borrow a pair of sweatpants, though Belle found him a long forgotten t-shirt that had clearly been a present from Bae.  It declared him to be the ‘world’s okayest dad.’  Trev shook his head when he saw it, but Belle had been amused.  

“Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer the master bedroom?  The bed is bigger.”  Belle made the same offer she’d made already.  

“The guess room is fine.”  A full sized bed was plenty for him.  He tried not to think about any reasons why he might need a larger bed.  None of his thoughts involved being alone, so they were best not considered at all.  Especially when the only person he’d fantasized about recently was standing in front of him.  The fact that the master room had been a space he’d shared with Milah for so long didn’t even occur to him.  “Besides Ruby would be confused if she came looking for you.”

“Ruby would be delighted if she found her ‘Good’ when she came looking for me.  She’s going to be so excited tomorrow when she realizes you’re here for breakfast.”

Gold nodded, holding the t-shirt to his chest.  He couldn’t shake the image of lying in bed with Belle, an arm draped casually over her waist.  Not doing anything, just lying with her and sharing space when Ruby came in for breakfast.  It was a daydream that left him rattled; he never had moments like that in Bae’s childhood.  It wasn’t his brain replicating a memory, but a completely separate dream.  “I should go to bed.”

“Sweet dreams, Trev.  You know where almost everything is, but if you have any questions you know where to find me.”

Unfortunately he knew all too well where to find her, not that he would breach the doorway that had been his own for so many years.  “Thank you.”

“Hey dad, these should work.  They have a drawstring, which I thought might help since you’re skinny.”  Bae came out of his bedroom with the promised sweatpants.  Behind him Emma leaned in the doorway of the bedroom that had been Bae’s since he was three weeks old and Milah had declared she couldn’t sleep with a baby in the master bedroom.  While he knew that Bae and Emma were sharing a room it was still a little startling to see it with his own eyes.  It didn’t bother him, but it was another reminder that his son was grown up.  He was so proud of his boy, but some part of him would always miss the child he had been.

“Your dad has a little restraint around desserts, unlike some people I know,” Emma teased.

“Hey, I inherited my love of cake from him.  He had a piece too.  But I bet he’s still in the habit of skipping meals.  Tea does not count as breakfast.”  Behind Gold he heard a snort, and turned to find Belle covering her mouth.  She shrugged, but he could tell she was amused to find that she wasn’t the only one to scold him for having tea alone in the morning.

“Yeah, like no one saw you sneak that second piece in the kitchen.”  Emma rolled her eyes before vanishing into the bedroom.  Gold was pretty certain he heard Bae mutter something about working off the calories.  He didn’t want to ask for clarification.  Fortunately the guest bedroom didn’t share a room with his son’s bedroom.

“I’ll just take this and-” he gestured at the door to the room that was just past Belle’s own.

“Sleep well, Trev.”  Belle’s smile seemed to ensure he’d have either sweet dreams or troubled sleep.

“Goodnight Belle.”  He was used to speaking to her over the phone and wishing her a good night, or speaking to her from the end of the hall at the bed and breakfast.  Somehow the hallway of his home - her home now - seemed more intimate.

“Goodnight!” A duel shout came from behind the closed door of Bae’s room as he headed for the guest room door.

II

He couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was being back in the house that held so many memories, or perhaps it was knowing that only a wall separated him from the bedroom where Belle was sleeping.  Either way he spent an hour staring wide eyed at the ceiling before giving up and getting out of bed.  If he remembered correctly there was still a bottle of whiskey in the library.  Unless Belle had a taste for it, which he doubted, it should still be there.  A wee dram might help him fall asleep.  Carefully he walked down the hall, avoiding the squeaky floorboard near Bae’s room.  Since he didn’t carry his cane he had to use the handrail on the stairs.  To his surprise there was a light on in the library.

“Belle?”  She sat at the desk, the only light coming from the lamp in the upper corner of the desk and the glow of the laptop monitor.  The clock on the wall told him it was a little after midnight.

“End of the month reports have to be finished tomorrow.  I’m almost done.”  She leaned back in the chair, taking off a pair of glasses he rarely saw her wearing.  “Employees need paychecks and the quarterly taxes are due.”

“You don’t have a payroll person for that?”

“Granny always did it herself.  I remember sitting next to her at the kitchen table, working on homework while she was working on it.  There were always cookies.  I guess it makes me feel closer to her.”  Belle stretched, leaning back farther in the chail.  The bottom of her pajama top rose just enough to see a narrow strip of skin.  “I should probably look into a service, but I only think of it at midnight when I’m struggling to get it done.”

“I can ask my bookkeeper if she can take on someone new.  I believe she does payroll.”  Belle had enough to do, managing two businesses and raising a two year old.  She didn’t need to stay up late with paperwork.  He would make sure Ariel could take her, even if he had to pay to make it happen.

“You don’t need to-” Belle stopped mid sentence, shaking her head.  “No, that’s silly.  I know I need help and as usual you have just the answer I need.  Thank you, Trev.  I would appreciate the recommendation.”

“I’ll make a call tomorrow.”

“Thank you.  Now what can I do for you?  You didn’t come down here to talk about payroll and taxes.”

“I was planning on having a drink, actually.”  The scotch was exactly there he left it.  A few years additional aging would only improve the flavor.

“May I join you?”

“Really?”  He’d seen her drink wine, and could imagine her with a daiquiri in hand.

“Sure.  I’m almost done with my work and it would help me unwind.  I even have my own glass.”  Grinning she picked up a plastic tumbler with a cartoon on it, one of Ruby’s.  “If you don’t mind sharing, of course.”

“I don’t mind.”  She sat at his desk in his library, though he’d cleared enough bookshelves off to allow her some space for her collection.  The bed she slept in was his.  There was a great deal they shared already, a drink hardly seemed like anything in comparison.  Yet as he placed the glass he’d brought from the kitchen next to the plastic cup and added the liquor to each it felt strangely intimate.  Perhaps it was the late hour.

“Should we toast something?”  Belle took hold of her glass, but a moment later almost dropped it when a lightning strike lit up the room.

“Belle?”

“I don’t like lightning very much.”  She took a sip of her drink, making a face that told him she didn’t appreciate the taste.  It didn’t stop her from taking a second sip.

“My father told a story when I was a lad about a selkie looking for his lost love in a thunderstorm.  She was human and they had fallen in love when he had rescued her from a shipwreck, but her people had come for her and taken her back to their land.  Whenever lightning fills the sky you know he’s still looking for her.”  His father hadn’t been worth much, but he had been able to spin a story.  As a child it had entertained him.  As he’d gotten older ‘story’ had just been another word for a lie.

“My mother told me that angels were bowling.  It didn’t scare me when I was a kid.” He couldn’t see into the plastic cup but guessed it was mostly gone after she took another sip.  When he held up the bottle she nodded and he refilled her glass.  She started into the depths of the glass as if it was something more than plastic with unicorns on it.  Knowing what it was like to get lost in thoughts he didn’t say anything.  It was a few minutes before she spoke.  “There was a thunderstorm the night my mother died.  She would always come into my room when there was a storm to check on me and ask me who was winning the bowling game.  I waited but…”

“I’m sorry, Belle.”  Her voice wavered and she didn’t seem able to continue.  He remembered her mentioning moving to America after her mother’s death.  She’d been too young to lose a mother, as well as a father not long after.  

“Ruby doesn’t mind a storm, and I don’t want her to think they’re scary.  I suppose I should have a story for her.”  Belle looked over her shoulder, as if waiting to catch the next clap of thunder.

“You could tell her about the angels bowling.”  He could almost picture her as a girl of Ruby’s age, asking for a story.  She probably wasn’t quite as demanding as Ruby could be, but just as hard to deny.

“I think I like your story better.  Maybe you could tell me the whole thing sometime?”  Perhaps it was the fact that the thunder hadn’t rumbled again, or the fact that she was almost done with her second pour of whiskey, but she seemed more relaxed.  

“If you like.”  For a moment he could almost hear an echo of his father’s voice.  And his own, as he tucked in a little boy that was now a grown man.

“Not tonight, though.  I think I need to go to sleep.”  She drained the last of her glass and closed up her laptop.  “You know how early Ruby likes to get up.”

“I’ll walk with you.”  She wasn’t wearing those ridiculous high heels she wore often when she was out, but he still worried about her balance, especially since she’d fallen only a few days earlier.  Not that his balance was much better, and he hadn’t even finished his drink.

“I’m glad you stayed tonight, Trev.  I would have worried about you driving in this.”  They made it up the stairs, though there were one or two false starts.  His leg was unsteady without his cane and Belle’s focus was less than perfect.

“I wouldn’t want to make you worry.”  He understood her worry even better now then he had a few hours ago.  “Sleep well, Belle.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bae said something about pancakes.”  Belle smiled sleepy at him as she stood in the doorway of the bedroom.  The walls that had been white when it was his room were a pale blue now.  It was a color that suited her.

“Unless he learned something in Italy I assume that means he’s volunteered me for breakfast duty.”  Saturday morning breakfasts had been a tradition of theirs for most of Bae’s childhood.  Milah had liked to sleep in, so it had usually been the two of them.  It would be nice to cook for his boy again.  And to cook breakfast for Belle for the first time.

“We’ll make him wash the dishes,” Belle said with a grin and a wink before she closed the door behind her.  Gold walked on to his room, closing the door behind him.  He was no less awake then he had been, but his mind felt more focused.  He took out the notepad he always carried with him and a pen, and started to write the story of a selkie in love.  It wasn’t the type of story he usually wrote, but it was a familiar tale and flowed quickly.  Perhaps he’d talk to Bae about doing up a few illustrations.  It would make a nice gift for Belle. And Ruby, of course.

II

The sound of howling woke him.  Looking at his clock he realized that it was a little before eight.  It took him a moment later to realize that the noise was a little girl declaring that she was awake.  Since he didn’t hear any other noises he hurried from his bed to the room across the hall.  Perhaps he would be able to let Belle sleep a little longer, she could do with a lie in.

“I’m looking for a little girl to help me make some pancakes, but all I hear is a wolf.”  He stood in the doorway to Ruby’s room, where she stood up on her bed.  It was a tiny thing no full sized person could possibly lay down on.  Gold knew that the mattress had been part of Ruby’s bed before the move.

“Good, my good, my good.”  Ruby’s cries of delight were slightly quieter than her howls, but not by much.  Gold looked across the hall at Belle’s still closed door.

“You’ll have to be quiet if you want to make pancakes,” he cautioned.

“Ruby be quiet.  Shhh shhh shh.”  She held one chubby finger up to her mouth to demonstrate.  Gold couldn’t help but smile.  

“That’s what I like to see in a sous chef.”  He held out a hand and she was quick to respond, jumping off her bed with a level of disregard of safety that would worry him if her bed was more than a foot from the floor.  In moments her small hand was in his.  Her other hand touched his sweatpants.

“Good go night night?” she asked.

“Yes, I slept here.”  He was glad she didn’t ask any more questions as they walked down the hall past Belle and Bae’s rooms.  When they got downstairs she was quickly distracted by cracking eggs and mixing with spoons, and didn’t ask any questions about why he’d spent the night.

“So Bae wasn’t lying about the pancakes.”  Emma was the first person to come downstairs, heading straight for the coffee pot.  It seemed that she liked her morning caffeine as much as Belle and his son.  Ruby hadn’t been patient enough for him to make his usual tea.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this.  Hopefully they’re edible,” he said with a shrug.  He hadn’t spent more than a few minutes alone with Emma.  She seemed nice enough, and certainly being around her made Bae happy, but it always took him time to get used to people.  To call his social circle limited would be generous.

“I remember the first time my dad tried making pancakes for me.  They were black on one side and raw in the middle but I ate them.”  Emma took a mug from the cabinet and poured herself a cup of coffee, adding some of the flavored creamer Belle always had in the fridge.

“Was your mom usually the one that made the pancakes?” He asked, only half paying attention.  Ruby was sitting on the edge of the counter and half of his focus was on making sure she didn’t decide at any moment to try jumping.

“Nah, she’s a teacher so mornings were not a leisure time for her.  She’d already left for work that day, I think.  I’d only been with them for a couple of weeks and David was kind of going overboard on trying to fit in as many ‘normal’ kid things as he could.  He still can’t make a decent pancake but he was a great softball coach.”  Emma settled at one of the stools on the side of the counter, both hands wrapped around her mug.

“You’re adopted.”  For a moment all of his focus was on her, and he could see a look in her eyes that he recognized from his own years in foster care.  He hadn’t seen it before.  

“My mom likes to say that we were always a family, it just took us time to find each other.  She’s big on fairy tales.  Sometimes I think she forgets that I lived anywhere before them.”  Emma took a sip of her coffee.  “I hope you don’t mind, but Bae mentioned that you were in the system too.”

“Yeah.”  He didn’t remember his mother.  Malcolm had been interested in him as long as he was young and cute and a good distraction while he worked his cons, but once he’d gotten too older he’d become less useful and asked too many questions.  He’d spent most of his time in group homes until Penny and Flo had taken him in just before his sixteenth birthday.  They had taken their role as foster parents very seriously; the home he now rented to Belle had been theirs, left to him in their will.

“Belle reminds me of my mom a little.  Ruby’s a lucky kid.”

“She is.”  He remembered how nervous Belle had been in the beginning.  She had worried about Ruby’s happiness and what was best for the baby, but had never said a word about her own plans changing so completely.  

“Ruby lucky,” the little girl agreed, waving around a spoon and flinging pancake batter everywhere.  “Ruby want pancake.”

“Soon,”  Gold promised, glad of the distraction.  “We have to cook them first.”

“Ruby want m’Belle.”

“Belle is sleeping.”  He knew how rare it was for Belle to be able to sleep in.

“Bae’s sleeping too, but he doesn’t need to be.  How about we go get him up, Rubes?  Want to help me?”  Emma downed the rest of her coffee and reached for the girl who eagerly jumped at her.  Emma settled her on her hip.  “Figured this breakfast thing might go smoother without the pancake batter flying everywhere and Bae will sleep ‘til noon if we leave him alone.”

“Thank you.”  He would be less worried about the griddle without Ruby being so close, and he might even be able to make himself that cup of tea.  For a moment when she turned to walk away Gold’s heart skipped a beat.  Someday, whether it was with Emma or someone else, Bae would have a child of his own.  A family that, he hoped, would visit him.  He hadn’t thought much of grandchildren before.  For so long his family had simply been himself and Bae.  It seemed to be growing.

“Do I smell pancakes?”  He expected Bae and Emma to come into the kitchen, but a few minutes later it was Belle that appeared, wrapped in a robe but wearing the same sea green pajamas underneath that she had worn the night before.  “And coffee too?  Bless you.”

“Emma made the coffee.”  He looked down at his pancakes more intently then necessary, checking to see if they needed to be turned.  He’d lived down the hall from her for almost a year and a half and had seen her early in the morning and late at night.  Somehow, though, seeing her barefoot in the kitchen with her hair clearly tousled from sleep felt almost too intimate.  It was too easy to think about the fact that she had been in a warm bed only minutes ago.  His bed, though he hadn’t slept in it for years.  “Everyone else should be down soon and we can eat.”

“Have I mentioned yet how glad I am you stayed?”  She padded through the kitchen towards the coffee maker, her bare feet not making a sound.  After she poured herself a mug she came to stand next to him, close enough to touch if he leaned to the side just a little.  He didn’t.  

“I…”

“Anyone looking for a tickle monster?  Because I caught one.”  Bae came into the kitchen with a laugh, holding an upside down Ruby insisting that she wasn’t a monster.  Emma followed immediately behind declaring that Bae had earned whatever he’d gotten and that a tickling from a two year old was way better than a pitcher of ice water. The sudden chaos only settled down when everyone sat at the table and whatever he had been about the say to Belle was long forgotten.

[lucy-sky]

Important Negotiation (Ezra x Reader)

This is my second fic about Ezra. I’m still not very confident about writing him, but I just had to return to this character one more time (at least) because the stories in my head want to be told no matter how silly they are :DD Ezra’s speech is still a huge challenge when English is not your native language, but I tried REALLY hard. Apologize for any possible mistakes, and once again, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Summary: What happens if two touch-starved idiots harvesters accidentally meet in the shower after a hard working day, and one of them is Ezra?.. Apparently you're in a pretty awkward situation, which requires a serious negotiation...

Warnings: Uh... I can identify this fic’s genre as “soft porn without plot” I guess :’D Although it only contains heavy petting not the actual sex, I think it turned out quite sensual?.. 

Words: 3 176; gif by me (plz credit if using)

Tags: @biobiopsy​, @rzrcrst​ (I’m not nearly as good as you, but I’d be happy if you took a look... as an expert, you know :D)

The corridor is dimly lit and quiet as you walk to the bathroom. It’s your usual habit to go there after the rest of the crew is already in their quarters preparing to sleep. Since it’s basically the only place you could get some privacy, you don’t want to be in a rush because there’s someone else waiting to use the shower. You prefer taking your time after a hard working day.

The contract you’re currently engaged on is quite profitable, the crew is nice too; all of them are experienced harvesters you could learn a lot from, so you consider yourself lucky. Yes, the work is exhausting, but you believe it’s worth it. The only thing that gets on your nerves sometimes is that your employer is really strict, obsessed with the rules. Each day is precisely scheduled: what time you get up, eat and work, the curfew hour... Relationships with the crew are also strictly regulated. No inappropriate actions or contacts allowed; it’s called work ethics - your employer points. You all are here to do the job, not to make friends or have affairs. Maybe it’s for the best, but sometimes you feel like you’re suffocating. So this time of the day, when you quietly sneak out of the room you share with another female member of the crew, and head to the shower is like a breath of fresh air. This time only belongs to you.

You sigh deeply as you strip of your tank top and sweatpants and get under the warm streams of water. Today was really exhausting, but thankfully there’s only one week left until the end of this contract. One week and your crew will leave the Green with solid sums of money in your pockets and you will finally be able to have proper rest. And for now you need something to ease your body and mind.

Sliding your hand down your lower belly, you close your eyes and the image of a man appears in your head. Sometimes you think you should be embarrassed because recently you often catch yourself on fantasizing about one particular man… Who is your fellow crew member.

You cannot tell exactly when it started. Was it after the first time you were assigned to work in pair, or a bit later? Perhaps after the first time he called you “little one” - a moniker he gave you as the youngest member of the crew. You’re also not sure why you find this man so attractive. Maybe it’s his deep brown eyes, or his lips that look so soft… Or his ridiculously messy dark hair with a small blond streak in it… Or is it his fancy manner of speech and the sound of his voice? Anyway, you were attracted to him and you couldn’t deny it.

Sometimes you have a feeling that the attraction is mutual. There’s something in the way he talks to you, something in his smile and occasional touches… But even if it’s so, you’re not here for romance. Rules are rules. So all you could do is touching yourself in the shower, imagining how his touch and his kiss would feel on your bare skin - the only luxury you could afford.

Throwing your head back a little, you sigh with delight, and let his name silently fall from your lips:

- Ezra.

You’re so lost in your fantasy that at first you don’t even register someone else’s presence in the room. Suddenly the sound of a man clearing his throat practically makes you jump. Quickly you step out of the water stream and grab a towel from the hanger nearby to cover your nakedness. The next second you realize who’s standing in front of you.

It’s him. Ezra. In flesh-and-blood.

You blink stupidly, struggling to identify if it’s really happening or you’re experiencing some weird sort of hallucination caused by exhaustion or whatever it is in the atmosphere of this goddamn planet.

- Calm down, little one, - the man says in a quiet, soothing tone. - I apologize... Kevva knows I had absolutely no intention to startle you like that.

- Wh… What are you doing here?.. - You manage to mumble.

- Same as you, I believe, - he shrugs. - I intended to take a shower, and since the door wasn’t locked, meeting you here was the last thing I expected to happen.

Only now you notice that he’s standing in front of you wearing nothing except a big towel wrapped around his hips and a pair of rubber slippers.

- Did I… Did I forget to lock the door?.. - You blurt out, asking rather yourself than him.

- Apparently so. Or… Allow me make an assumption… It could be something that you wanted to happen subconsciously, without realizing it to the full extent.

- What do you mean? - You frown at his words. - And why are you still standing here? An adequate person would already have apologized and left.

- I might not be adequate enough but I’m not ignorant either, - Ezra says, mischievous sparkles playing in his eyes. - Pardon my boldness, but I suppose I know exactly what kind of an action was interrupted by my unannounced appearance.

Instantly you feel the blush creeping up on your cheeks. Of course he saw you pleasuring yourself. You don’t even know how long has he been around. You want to sink under the ground. Why wouldn’t he just leave? Does he find joy in torturing you like that? You want to hit him in the face, and normally you would do exactly this, but for some reason now you’re just frozen in place.

-   But I assure you, - Ezra continues in the same soothing tone. - It’s a completely natural thing. We’re human; we need each other. Physically too, among other things. You think I don’t know why you’re doing it in the shower? I’m familiar to this, girl. For sure we can satisfy ourselves without any difficulties, but warm water just makes it easier to pretend you’re in someone’s arms. I myself experience this firsthand. Let’s face it, little one. It’s been a while and we both are starving for a simple skin-to-skin contact. So… If you will indulge me, I’d be more than happy to propose my assistance. And being a gentleman, I’m not inquiring any sorts of favors from your part, believe me. It’s just a suggestion from one solitary person seeking for some warmth to another.

- Okay, I’m confused right now... What kind of assistance are you talking about? - You ask, narrowing your eyes. Actually you can’t believe your ears - did he just suggested to help you getting off? Seriously?

- I think I made myself clear enough, didn’t I? - Ezra cocks his head examining your baffled expression.

- Yeah, okay... But what makes you think that I can say yes to this?

The corners of his mouth twitch into a smug smirk.

- Forgive me, little bird... Of course I cannot asseverate that, perhaps my eyes and ears are just playing tricks on me, but... I might have noticed you uttering something very similar to my name.

- What...

Now your face is not just blushing. It’s burning. You didn’t think it’s possible to make you even more embarrassed than you already are, but he just did it. You’re lost for words. It clearly makes no sense to deny the obvious now that you were caught in the act...

- There's nothing to be ashamed of, little one, - Ezra says quietly with a sudden tenderness in his voice. - For what it's worth, it's only chemistry... After all, let's just endorse the reality that I would already have left, or you would have slapped me in the face if only we weren't attracted to each other since day one. You're not the first day in the business and I'm convinced you're pretty much capable to push back against me or any other intruder. And yet, I'm still here.

You think about his words for a couple of seconds. He's right, you have to admit. You sensed some sort of vibes between the two of you since the beginning. So if you both have sympathy for each other - what are you losing? In fact, only a few minutes ago, weren’t you busy imagining how his lips would feel against your skin?..

-  And dare I say, - he adds as if he read your mind. - If it wasn’t for the sake of annoying work ethics we’re bound to follow, I’d probably be more precise in my intentions since the very start.

He makes an expectant pause here, cunning brown eyes scanning your face, waiting for a response.

- So, birdie... what do you think?

- I think you talk too much.

You didn’t intend to sound this bold, but Ezra chuckles contently.

- The answer is positive, I assume?

- Correct, - you reply, unintentionally copying his strange manner of speech, something you noticed not the first time you did while talking to him.

This conversation is so weird... As if it’s some kind of... Negotiation? You’re still feeling awkward, but Ezra’s smile is warm and reassuring as he makes a step closer.

- Than let’s reject the useless pudency, shall we?

His hand reaches yours; fingertips brushing against your knuckles, making you release the grip on the towel you’re covering yourself with. Your heart is beating way too fast. You have no idea why you’re so flustered, as if it’s your first time… You imagined this so many times it’s hard to believe now it’s happening for real. Inhaling sharply you close your eyes and let the towel slip down to your feet. When you open your eyes again, you find him silently admiring you with lustful eyes.

- Aren’t you the finest creature, little one, - he proclaims.

- Your turn, - you try to sound confident, but your voice betrays you, trembling a little. Ezra smirks at this.

- Your word is my command.

His towel falls on the floor as well and you can hardly take your eyes off him - he’s so beautiful to you, all of him. Tanned olive skin, scars on his upper body, a trail of dark hair beneath his belly button... You’re not sure what to do next, but he’s suddenly gentle as he takes your hand and leads you closer to warm water still pouring from the showerhead. He positions himself behind you and you shiver when his lips are finally against your skin. He places soft kisses along your shoulderblade, then gently brushes your hair aside to kiss the nape of your neck. You bite back a moan when he reaches the spot right behind your earlobe. He’s so impossibly close you can feel his hot breath as he whispers:

- So what do you want me to do, little one?

- Touch me.

- With the utmost pleasure.

His hand immediately skims up the curve of your thigh, and your skin breaks out with goosebumps at the contact when he cups your breast. You gasp and he hums in approval, caressing your soft flesh before giving your hardened nipple a light pinch. You’re about to scream when his free hand palms your mound. You’re craving for more, but Ezra is unhurried, dragging his fingers along your slit to spread the wetness between your folds slowly, as if you have all the time in the world… And then your body jerks when he strokes the very tip of your throbbing clit with his finger. He teases you like that a bit more before finally adding so much needed pressure. Your knees go weak at the intensity of the sensation. You can’t even explain why it feels this good. He doesn’t really do anything you couldn’t do yourself, but his fingers just feel differently, both rough and deliciously tender if such a combination is even possible, and the way he’s holding you tightly against his frame and nuzzles into your shoulder just makes the whole act even more intimate.

- F-faster, - you plead in a shaky voice, feeling the tight knot in the pit of your belly is about to burst.

A whimper, a bit louder than you wish it to be escapes your parted lips when you feel his warm tongue on the side of your neck. Immediately, Ezra's hand covers your mouth and you’re internally crying in frustration as he slows down his movements.

- Shhh, be quiet, little one, - he hushes and his hoarse whisper against your ear gives you chills. - As much as I appreciate your grateful response, that'll be a shame to get fired only a week before the contract ends, right?

You nod in agreement, humming into his palm as he keeps going, increasing pace and pressure again until your body finally surrenders. Digging your nails into his hip in search for some support to keep balance you shudder, coming hard on his fingers. You’re trembling in his embrace, overwhelmed by this blissful sensation: warm, pulsating and so incredibly sweet, sweeter than all honey in the world. The pleasure runs through you in swift waves, and when the last tremors of your climax subside, you feel like melting into a puddle against his firm chest.

- You alright, little one? - Ezra asks. His arms are still around you, fingers drawing circles on your belly absentmindedly. It tickles a bit, but you don’t mind.

- Mhm… - You make lazily. - Uh...thank you…

- The pleasure is mine, - he smirks, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

His warm body feels like home. All you wish for right now is to stay like this forever, never losing the physical contact.

There’s something else you wish for though.

He’s undoubtedly hard against your backside, and you can’t fight the sudden urge to touch him. The man lets out a ragged breath as you reach behind you and let your fingers trail down his lower belly. Now it’s his turn to shiver in response to your gentle caress.

- Little one, - he sounds a bit raspier than usual. - I meant it when I said I’m not requiring favors...

- What if it’s not really a favor, - your palm wraps around his length, giving him a light squeeze and earning a quiet grunt from him. His cock is warm and thick, and feels amazing in your hand. - What if I just want to touch you too?..

- Therefore, I dare not protest, - you sense a hint of relief in his voice and smirk under your breath. He definitely needs it even more than you, and frankly speaking, you think he deserves it.

Ezra’s hips jerk a bit as your thumb makes contact with the tip of his cock, brushing against it softly. Encouraged by his reaction, you give him a couple of firmer strokes causing him thrust into your hand.

- Kevva, that feels good, - he mumbles, and suddenly you desperately want to see his face. You need it. So you turn around.

He opens his dark brown eyes to meet your gaze. The look is so intense it gives you shivers, and without any second thoughts and useless doubts, you press your lips to his.

He responds immediately, kissing you back feverishly, like a starving man, humming against your mouth, and you have to suppress a moan again at the delightful sensation when your tongues touch. Ezra’s hand grabs the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. His plump lips are almost as soft and nice as you imagined, only better, because they are real. You keep working on him, stroking him up and down in a steady pace, and you break the kiss only to taste the skin on the crook of his neck, hot and salty under your tongue. Your fingers run along his pecs and collarbones and you wish you didn’t have to keep quiet because you really enjoy his grunts and ragged gasps. There's something very satisfying in realization that you make him feel this way.

You increase the pace as the thrusts of his hips become more erratic and he tightens the grip on your hair. You kiss him again and he hisses into your mouth and bites on your lower lip almost painfully, but it’s a good kind of pain. You feel him throbbing and swelling, and a couple more movements of your hand finally bring him over the edge, his warm load spilling on the floor and your lower belly.

- Damn, birdie, - Ezra breathes out, relaxing against the tiles and pulling you closer to his chest. - I fully realize that current circumstances are far from being perfectly romantic, but still I must confess here and now - I’m pretty much into you, y/n.

You’re surprised to hear your name from him. You’re not sure, but it’s probably the first time you hear him saying it. For some reason it feels important. Despite the circumstances, it gives his confession even more value.

- I’m pretty much into you as well, Ezra, - you smile. - Even though you’re by far the biggest weirdo I’ve ever met.

- Why is that, if I may be so bold as to ask?

- Well, you know... That massive speech you delivered to convince me... Wasn’t it easier to just come over and like... kiss me maybe? - You shrug.

- That might be. But I wasn’t certain I’d not end up with a black eye or a bloody nose in this case... Simply due to your dexterous self-preservation instincts, - he chuckles and you scoff into his chest.

- Yeah, this is actually very likely of me. Who can blame me though?

- Wasn’t even trying. It’s the world we live in, little one. You have to be tough and cautious; otherwise your chance to survive is quite slim... And you see, I, on my part, am being cautious too...

- You’re really good at negotiating, I must say...

You both laugh quietly, as Ezra wraps his arms around your frame and lets his fingers run through your damp hair. You stay like that for a little while, simply enjoying the intimacy of the moment and the warmth of each other’s bodies.

- I have to make a point, - Ezra goes after the pause. - That normally I possess much higher levels of stamina. It’s just the months of touch starvation took their toll... We’re only human as it was stated in previous conversations...

- Right... - You smirk, tilting your head to look him in the eye. - I might give you a chance to prove it than... Once we’re done with this goddamn contract, of course.

- Sounds like a tempting offer, birdie, - Ezra grins before leaning in to steal another kiss. - I’m ready to negotiate.

- This is gonna be a long week… - You murmur softly, kissing him back.

***

Thank you for reading!

[redschillzone]

Modern Loneliness (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

(Gif Found Here!)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k Words

Warnings: None

Summary: Natasha struggles to show you she loves you and she realizes she doesn’t deserve you but you prove her wrong with just a few simple words and kisses.

What you saw in her she didn’t know, she was confused as to why you would want someone like her as a girlfriend. Natasha wasn’t exactly girlfriend material, at least in her eyes she wasn’t; She was a skilled assassin, an assassin that should be a stone-cold killer; She was a person who tended to be distant from others, tended to give off a rather deadly and cold aura. She was indifferent from the other Avengers, she was tougher than the other Avengers and yet you didn’t see that all; You saw someone who cared for others, you saw someone who wanted to fight for what was right and then when that was said and done, wanted to relax and take the stress off by having a few drinks or by going out for the night. You saw someone who loved you for who you were and not because of your looks, you saw a girl who wanted nothing more than to have someone as her own and to finally experience what love was meant to feel like.

Natasha struggled to see the version of her that you see everyday, she struggled to believe that you actually loved her for herself and not for some other reason. Sure around you she tends to be this caring, supportive, and sweet person but when others come into play it’s almost as if her whole persona changes and she struggles to retain that happy, carefree persona. She struggles to show others the same love and care that she shows you and it has honestly begun to get the better of her.

Even now as she sits on the patio of the Avengers compound, she couldn’t help but sigh as she put her head down, running her hand through her red hair as she thought quietly. Why did you love her? Why were you with her? She didn’t deserve you, not in the slightest; You were far too kind to her, far too loving for someone who killed for a living. Sure she had changed her path, began to work with SHIELD to cover up her history but it still haunted her to this very day and she was scared that once you knew the truth, you’d run. You’d run away from her and leave her alone and she didn’t want that; She loved you, she really did even though she knew she struggled to show you such things. 

She did her best to give you kisses in public, she did her best to hold your hand whenever you asked and did her best to shower you in gifts and affection but it was a struggle for her; She didn’t exactly have the best past, it wasn’t filled with loving memories so she didn’t know if what she was doing was right or if it was wrong. She was just going off of what she had seen other couples do whenever she was undercover; When she was able to fantasize how loving you correctly would be like, what it would actually look like and whenever she saw those couples, she did her best to picture the two of you doing such things. She couldn’t help herself as the thoughts continued to cycle in her mind; They kept her so distracted that the assassin didn’t even notice you making your way over to her.

“Natasha..? What are you doing up so late..?” You spoke, a sense of worry to your tone as you went and sat beside her on the lounger she currently resided on. Natasha couldn’t help but jump at your words, looking over as she allowed a breath to leave her lips.

“Oh- (Y/N) I uh.. I was just thinking, that’s all. I can’t sleep when my brain is running at a thousand thoughts per second, you know?” She questioned to which you gave a small nod, chuckling lightly as you spoke up.

“You sound like Tony.” You commented to which Natasha couldn’t help but shake her head, shifting her gaze to you as she noticed you were watching her; You still had worry floating in your eyes and she couldn’t help but let out a breath as you spoke up once more.

“Natasha.. What’s wrong? What’s bothering you?” You questioned, leaning over to gently take her hand in your own; You held her hand tightly, giving her a look that she understood perfectly. You wanted her to talk, you wanted her to vent to you so you could help her and she knew that but she also didn’t want to burden you with her own thoughts. Though the more and more she thought about it, the more and more she realized that if she were to put these emotions aside they would eventually catch up to her and eventually destroy her. She couldn’t help but sigh as she went ahead and leaned her head against your shoulder, staring out in the group of trees that resided nearby before she spoke to you.

“I don’t deserve you, (Y/N). I really don’t and I don’t get what you see in me that makes you want to love me. I tend to be cold and distant and yet you still wait on me, you still love me after all of that. I do my best to show you I love you, I really do but I still struggle to even do that and I just.. I know there is someone out there who could love you way better than I can so.. Tell me why, babe. Why do you still love me?” Natasha admitted to you, her hold on your hand tightening as she shifted her gaze towards you and you couldn’t help but stare at her. Did she really just say that she didn’t deserve you? Oh were you about to give her a piece of your mind.

“Natasha.. Sweetheart.. You do deserve me.” You spoke, getting up and moving so you were on your knees in front of her, taking her other hand in your own and holding them both tightly.

“You deserve me and so much more; Sure you have your moments but you’re an amazing person. You’re caring of the others and me. You’re supportive of me and the others as well and you’re trying your hardest to make that known. We understand that so what more could we ask of you? And as I said, you do deserve me; I love you.. I love you so damn much because I know that we’re both broken. We’re both not perfect but we’re trying. We’re trying our damndest and what more could I ask of you?” You spoke, running your thumb across the back of her hand as she watched you, tears welling in her eyes as she listened to your words. Carefully you leaned forward, kissing both her cheeks before you kissed the tip of her nose and continued.

“We’re working through our flaws, Nat.. We all have them… All we can do is work hard and soon enough we’ll overcome them.. I don’t have plans on leaving you anytime soon, I never want to leave your side and I hope that you never want to leave my side either.” You admitted, watching as Natasha gave a small nod and sniffled quietly. She was beginning to understand what you were saying, your words were beginning to break through to her and that was exactly what she needed. 

A comfortable silence overtook you both before she spoke up.

“I.. I never want to leave your side, (Y/N)... I love you, I love you so damn much and I swear you’re the girl I’m going to marry one day. I promise I’ll be better from here on out, I promise I won’t let such thoughts plague my mind.” She told you which caused your cheeks to flare up in a blush before you cleared your throat and gave a small nod before you spoke up.

“I would like that very much, Natasha… And I’ll keep your promises in mind but… Can.. Can I kiss you?” You asked cautiously to which she smiled and gave a small nod, helping you to your feet as she got to her own.

“I would want nothing more.” She told you to which you grinned and pulled her close, crashing your lips against hers in a slow and passionate kiss; You were putting in as much love as you could into it and Natasha could feel it as she kissed back, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you two kissed under the moonlight. Natasha knew she was loved, she knew she had someone to fall on and you knew the same; There was nothing in the world that could tear you apart and if they tried, well.. They would have to try a lot harder because nothing was going to take you two down so long as you had each other.

[bettydice]

(Planning the Day) To Meet You

Wangxian, Modern AU, Slow Burn, E-Rated

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 11

Lan Wangji wakes up in a strange bed. Usually, neither his head nor his neck ache like this when he wakes up at home, nor do his feet dangle over the edge of the bed. There’s also something lying across his chest - not a blanket.

He instantly opens his eyes and sees… Wei Ying. He’s not used to seeing his face from this angle, but it is definitely Wei Ying. Lan Wangji immediately relaxes. It’s not a strange bed, it’s Wei Ying’s bed.

He slightly lifts his head to take in his surroundings better. The thing lying across his chest is Wei Ying’s arm. And Lan Wangji is looking up at Wei Ying, because… his head is resting in Wei Ying’s lap.

Ah, right. He had dinner here.

Oh no.

He drank alcohol.

Has he done anything else unwise? Has he embarrassed himself in front of Wei Ying? Did he say anything… he shouldn’t have said?

Lan Wangji tenses. It’s just his luck that somehow, this seems to wake up Wei Ying, who doesn’t seem to be confused at all about what bed he’s in or why he’s in this position. Quite the opposite; it only takes him one or two seconds from opening his eyes to looking down at Lan Wangji and smiling, as though the sight of Lan Wangji in his lap is exactly what he’d expected and wanted to see.

“You’re awake.”

“Mn.” If Wei Ying can smile at him so happily, maybe Lan Wangji didn’t make a fool of himself last night?

“It must be tomorrow then.” Wei Ying’s smile lights up his entire face and Lan Wangji has to blink a few times, his eyes apparently still adjusting to the light.

“Mn.”

Wei Ying looks intently at him, as though he’s waiting for something. Lan Wangji simply stares back, waiting for Wei Ying to tell him what he’s waiting for. Eventually, Wei Ying sighs pretty dramatically, then laughs and pats Lan Wangji’s cheek.

“Ah, Lan Zhan… are you sober now?”

“... Yes.” Lan Wangji closes his eyes for a second, ears burning. He shouldn’t have lost composure like that. “Wei Ying, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate of me.”

“Nothing to be sorry about! But I guess that means you don’t remember, hm?” Wei Ying sighs dramatically again. Then he smiles down at him, and his hand moves on from patting Lan Wangji’s cheek to stroking the hair out of his face. “You really have nothing to worry about, my sweet Lan Zhan.”

His ears are allowed no reprieve, heating up again from Wei Ying’s endearment. And suddenly he has a déjà-vu - no, a memory - of lying in Wei Ying’s lap, just like this…

“Want to look at you.”

“I also want to look at you, so this works out nicely.”

“Wei Ying, if I’ve done or said anything that -”

“No. You were perfect, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji highly doubts that, but Wei Ying sounds very determined and his fingers are still exploring his hair and his cheek, so Lan Wangji doesn’t see a reason to argue with him.

“If Wei Ying says so.”

“Yes, I do!” Wei Ying laughs and then smoothes his fingertips over Lan Wangji’s right eyebrow. “Lan Zhan, how can you be so cute first thing in the morning? What time is it anyway?”

While Wei Ying searches for his phone, Lan Wangji tries to adjust to Wei Ying’s changed mood. No trace is left from his restlessness of the past few days. Instead, he seems somehow both at peace and eager, his words and touches come naturally, and something about it makes Lan Wangji’s heart race. If he could recall more of last night… A fuzzy image appears at the edge of his mind, of holding Wei Ying’s hand, walking behind him, looking at his face and… and wanting him.

“What the fuck, 6 a.m.?” Wei Ying has found his phone under a pillow and holds it in front of Lan Wangji’s face, so he can see with his own eyes that it is 6:12 a.m.

“I wake up at 6 every morning,” Lan Wangji says, fully expecting Wei Ying’s horrified expression.

“Why? Why ever would you do that? You’re a student! You don’t have to make sure a wild radish gets to the daycare on time! Why do you rob yourself of valuable sleep like this?”

“I’m not deprived of sleep. I go to bed early.” And then he adds, a little defensively: “I like my routine.”

“Ah, yes, of course you do. Because you’re my Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying smiles at him fondly, so it seems that ‘being Lan Zhan’ isn’t a bad thing in this case. And being Wei Ying’s can never be a bad thing anyway. “Well, since we’re up, let’s follow your routine! What comes next?”

“Exercise.” Lan Wangji can’t help but smile, suddenly overcome with happiness about Wei Ying and his smile and his gentleness and Lan Wangji being Wei Ying’s sweet Lan Zhan.

“Exercise? Every morning?”

“Mn.”

“But Lan Zhan, we’d have to get up for that. Do you really want that?” Wei Ying smirks and his fingers travel over Lan Wangji’s cheek until they stroke over the skin just below his lower lip.

“... No.” Lan Wangji swallows hard and Wei Ying has a wicked expression on his face, very familiar by now.

“We’re going to skip that one then. Okay, what’s next?”

“Shower. Breakfast.” When he speaks, his lip brushes against Wei Ying’s fingers.

“Shower, mhm? Ah, but we only have a very tiny shower here, barely enough for one person. But breakfast we can do together.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji replies, in a daze. Why did Wei Ying have to… Lan Wangji has fantasized about this…

“Too much for 6 a.m.?” Wei Ying suddenly whispers, withdrawing his fingers to the slightly safer territory of Lan Wangji’s cheekbone.

Lan Wangji hesitates for a second, then nods. A little too much at least for this particular morning.

“Maybe we should get up after all. We can make a lovely breakfast for everyone. A-Yuan will be so excited to see you’re still here! He’ll probably also be excited to see me for breakfast for once, haha.” Wei Ying smiles down at him again, dimples showing. “Alright?”

Lan Wangji nods again and then slowly sits up. He’s a bit reluctant to leave Wei Ying’s lap and gentle caress behind, but he also really needs to stretch. So he gets up and does just that. Wei Ying chuckles and follows him off the bed, only to collapse against Lan Wangji’s chest.

“Can’t feel my legs!” Lan Wangji automatically grabs Wei Ying’s hips to steady him, while Wei Ying grimaces and hops from one leg to the other. “Ow, ow, they’re waking up, ow, ow ow… ow… okay, better!”

Lan Wangji holds on to him for a few seconds longer than necessary and Wei Ying flashes him a grin. When Lan Wangji finally lets him go, Wei Ying frowns a little and smoothes his hands over Lan Wangji’s chest.

“Lan Zhan, I’m sorry, I messed your shirt up even more.”

Lan Wangji looks down. And indeed, his shirt is terribly rumpled. Combined with the mess his hair surely is in, it must be obvious he spent the night in someone else’s bed. Going home like this… would be a little uncomfortable.

“Uhm, do you want to borrow a t-shirt from Wen Ning? I’d offer you one of mine, but they might be a bit… tight?”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to decline, then changes his mind. “Mn.”

“Okay, he should be up soon, he has the breakfast shift, haha.”

“Your shirt.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll borrow your shirt.” Lan Wangji turns around and marches over to Wei Ying’s wardrobe.

“Lan Zhan, don’t open that! Wait!”

Lan Wangji stops, hand on the door knob. Wei Ying appears next to him and puts his hand on Lan Wangji’s arm with a sheepish smile.

“There might be, uh… things might fall out. If you open it. So. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and freshen up, while I grab you something?”

Lan Wangji lets Wei Ying lead him to the bathroom, where Wei Ying hands him a towel, shows him where his own toiletries are for Lan Wangji to use, if he wishes to do so. Then he disappears for a minute and re-appears with a t-shirt. The bathroom is as cramped and cluttered as the rest of the flat, and Wei Ying was right, the shower is barely large enough for one person. Lan Wangji freshens up as much as possible. He uses Wei Ying’s brush to straighten his hair and brushes his teeth with his finger. Lan Qiren might faint if he could see him. The thought brings a smile to Lan Wangji’s face. He changes into Wei Ying’s shirt, a simple black one, and it really is a bit tight and short. But it’s Wei Ying’s shirt.

When he’s tidied up after himself and found a place to hang his towel, he feels decidedly more awake and grounded, albeit a small headache remains. He’s in Wei Ying’s flat, wearing his shirt; and the first thing he saw this morning was his smile, and the first thing he felt was his touch. Whatever happened last night, it doesn’t matter, because this is the outcome. He re-joins Wei Ying in his room and Wei Ying... stares at him. Or rather, at his torso. And keeps staring.

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying’s eyes snap back up and he points a finger at him. “Lan Zhan, I take it back! You can’t have my shirt!”

“Why not?” Lan Wangji looks down, confused. It’s short, yes, but it still covers all of his stomach.

“You look indecent! How am I supposed to be calm and collected and not flirt when… Why do you have muscles everywhere?”

Ah, Wei Ying has the same issue with his shirt that Lan Wangji had, when Wei Ying had only closed one button.

Lan Wangji smiles a little and says: “I see. Will take it off then.”

Wei Ying laughs and shakes his head. “Who taught you to tease me like that, Lan Zhan? So mean.”

“Wei Ying did.”

“Ah, this Wei Ying person sounds like a troublemaker. You shouldn’t follow his example!” Wei Ying playfully wags his finger. Then he comes up to Lan Wangji, takes his hand, and drags him towards the door. “Come on. We should make breakfast, before I go and ravish you.”

“Wouldn’t mind.”

“Lan Zhan, stop it!”

They prepare breakfast together and Lan Wangji is pleased to note that he is becoming quite familiar with Wei Ying’s kitchen, remembering where most of the things he needs are stored. Wei Ying is also suitably impressed.

A-Yuan wakes up shortly after 6:30 a.m. He is so happy to see Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, he immediately starts banging on Wen Ning’s door to wake him up. Wen Ning doesn’t seem too upset about it, is actually also rather pleased to see them both here. He doesn’t ask any questions as to why Lan Wangji is here or make comments about anyone being drunk, so… that’s a relief.

After breakfast, Lan Wangji somehow ends up on the couch, A-Yuan on his lap and a picture book in his hands. He has to read the story of Flop the Grumpy Bunny five times, while Wei Ying freshens up in the bathroom. But he doesn’t mind, because the drawings are adorable. When A-Yuan says “Again” once more, Wei Ying comes back and interrupts them.

“A-Yuan, we have to go get ready for daycare. You still need to pick the toy you want to bring! And if you want, tall-gege and I can take you there. What do you think?”

“Yay!”

“Yay!” Wei Ying helps A-Yuan from Lan Wangji’s lap and then looks at him. “Alright, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.” That sounds lovely.

“After, I’ll bring you home, too.”

Lan Wangji simply blinks in response, confused.

“Alright?” Wei Ying smiles down at him, like he did earlier, like he’s been doing all morning.

“Mn.” He’s not sure why Wei Ying offered to do so, but Lan Wangji sees no reason to question such a gift.

Wei Ying holds his hand on the way to the daycare. A-Yuan is driving a tricycle and only gets distracted and drives it against a tree two or three times. Once they’ve waved him goodbye, they walk towards the closest bus stop. Wei Ying holds his hand again. On the bus, too.

They’ve never held hands for so long. Never where everyone can see. And now Wei Ying does it without a second thought. Lan Wangji happily lets him.

Wei Ying doesn’t say much during the bus ride, simply looks out of the window and enjoys the scenery. Occasionally, he’ll look at Lan Wangji and smile, before turning his head again. Lan Wangji is content to hold his hand and look at him. Sometimes, the sun will hit Wei Ying’s eyes just right, unveiling a secret golden warmth only Lan Wangji gets to see.

Stray memories from last night flutter through his mind from time to time, but Lan Wangji doesn’t bother chasing them down. The present is more important. From what he can recollect, he spent a lot of time last night holding Wei Ying’s hand, too. Maybe this is why Wei Ying seems so used to it now.

Eventually, they reach their destination. They walk to the apartment building Lan Wangji lives in and he fully expects Wei Ying to say goodbye then. But he doesn’t. He also doesn’t do so when they’re standing in front of Lan Wangji’s door. Lan Wangji opens the door, goes inside, and Wei Ying follows him.

Alright.

The guest slippers are still in the same spot Wei Ying left them the last time he was here. Lan Wangji hesitates before going further into the flat. He’s waiting for Wei Ying to take the lead, since he seems to have come here with a purpose.

Wei Ying takes his hand again and leads him into the living room.

“Lan Zhan, are you comfortable?”

“What do you mean?” What a strange question. Lan Wangji doesn’t think anyone has ever asked him such a thing. At least not without proper context.

“Well, are you comfortable in your clothes? How are you feeling? Hungover? Headache? Thirsty? We should take care of all that.”

Wei Ying states this very matter-of-fact, though Lan Wangji doesn’t understand the matter or the fact.

“I think… I would like to change my clothes.” He likes the t-shirt, but it is a little tight and he’d like to change his trousers.

“Okay, let’s start with that. Why don’t you go do that, take a proper shower, or whatever you want. I’ll make you tea in the meantime. Does that sound good?”

“... Mn.” He’s happy to go along with this, even though he feels like he’s in a lecture about a book he forgot to read. “I’ll go get out the tea and mugs for you.”

“Ah, ah, don’t bother! I’ll find everything I need! You go freshen up and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“But-”

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, listen to your Wei Ying.” Wei Ying drags him towards the bathroom and then blesses him with a bright smile, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Lan Wangji listens to his Wei Ying, grabs some fresh clothes and goes into the bathroom. While he takes a quick shower, trying not to get his hair wet, he does try to grab some of those fleeting memories, if only to provide a little context for Wei Ying’s change in demeanour. He remembers more hand holding, even more hand holding…

“You can swear in front of me all you want. Let it all out.”

Swearing. Ah. Well, Wei Ying is the last person who’d mind, so that’s okay.

He’s brushing his teeth, properly this time, when one specific memory suddenly hits him.

“Want to fuck you.”

He almost swallows the toothpaste and hastens to spit it out before he can choke on it. He rinses his mouth and then stares at himself in the mirror, cheeks burning. Is Wei Ying here to…

Lan Wangji closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths and then he remembers… what followed. Why Wei Ying is here. It’s still a bit hazy, but he remembers Wei Ying’s fingers against his cheek, the smile on his face and…

Tomorrow. It’s tomorrow.

He almost leaves the bathroom without putting on clothes and then he curses the fact he picked out a shirt with buttons. It’s not like there’s a time limit, there’s no rush. But Lan Wangji is so in love with Wei Ying, his heart might burst if he has to wait any longer. Wei Ying is here and he wants Lan Wangji to be comfortable and he wants to kiss him. The last button slips into place and Lan Wangji rushes out of the bathroom.

Wei Ying is in the living room, standing in front of his bookshelf, looking at pictures of his bunnies. Steam rises from a pot of tea on the couch table. He looks as though he’s supposed to be here. When he hears Lan Wangji, he turns around and smiles.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s heart can’t hold back anymore, it’s spilling over, running towards Wei Ying. His body follows and he strides over to Wei Ying, takes his face between his shaking hands. “Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, what-”

“It’s tomorrow.”

And then he kisses him.

He kisses him gently, with the same gentleness Wei Ying has treated him with today and every day. Wei Ying rests his arms around his neck and makes a pleased humming sound Lan Wangji plans on treasuring forever.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji pulls back a little, so he can see Wei Ying’s face, can see the way he looks at him, eyes sparkling with happiness, and he has to press another kiss against his lips.

“Mhm.” Wei Ying huffs a laugh and pouts. “I can’t believe you stole my thunder again! I was going to surprise you, confess properly and all and then you-”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji laughs, too, resting his forehead against Wei Ying’s. “Kiss me properly.”

Wei Ying does.

His lips are warm and soft, patient at first, until they’re not, moving urgently against him. Wei Ying’s hand is in his hair and the other is cradling his jaw and he can feel Wei Ying’s heartbeat against his own.

They’re moving, but Lan Wangji doesn’t care where they’re going, because Wei Ying teases his tongue along his lower lip. Lan Wangji opens for him and follows where Wei Ying leads.

They end up on the couch. He thinks so anyway, because Lan Wangji is sitting on something soft and Wei Ying is sitting on his lap.

Eventually, Wei Ying allows him a moment to catch his breath. They look at each other and oh, Lan Wangji hasn’t seen this smile on Wei Ying before. In wonder, he traces his fingertips over the dimple in Wei Ying’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth, his red and shiny lips.

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying leans forward and Lan Wangji expects more kisses, but Wei Ying hugs him instead, presses his face against Lan Wangji’s neck. “I like you an awful lot.”

Lan Wangji tightens his arms around Wei Ying in response, buries his face in his hair, breathes him in. They sit like that for a while, simply enjoying being close, being together. Until Lan Wangji wants to see Wei Ying’s face again and pulls away a little.

“Wei Ying, I want to be with you.”

“Then be with me.” Wei Ying smiles softly and strokes his cheek.

“I’m in love with you.” Lan Wangji can’t believe he finally gets to say this, gets to say it freely, happily.

“Oh… “ Wei Ying inhales shakily and he stares at Lan Wangji as though he sees him for the first time. A tear rolls down Wei Ying’s cheek and Lan Wangji wipes it away. Wei Ying lets out a breathy laugh and then he kisses him again.

Wei Ying seems to put all of his feelings into this kiss and Lan Wangji answers in kind. Even though none of this is familiar to him, he’s not worried, because it’s Wei Ying. And it feels so fucking good.

A while later, they’re taking another breather. Three buttons of Lan Wangji’s shirt have come undone and Lan Wangji’s hands are resting on Wei Ying’s soft waist, under his t-shirt. They’re both hard, but Lan Wangji is happy to ignore that for now, just wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss.

“Lan Zhan, how dare you be so good at this? Such a quick study,” Wei Ying scolds him playfully, while stroking over the newly exposed skin of his chest.

“You make me feel like running.” These words are insufficient for what he feels for Wei Ying, but he doesn’t know how else to express it. His heart is racing and he’s out of breath and if it’s Wei Ying that’s waiting for him, he can’t get there fast enough.

“Is that good?” Wei Ying raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“Mn. Very.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, but you make me feel as though I have finally arrived. I don’t need to run anymore.” Wei Ying takes his face between his hands, smiles and leans forward, until their foreheads are touching. Then he presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Wei Ying.”

“Mhm?”

“Kiss me properly again.”

Wei Ying laughs and kisses him, properly.

[vexvamp]

'Cause every night I lie in bed The brightest colors fill my head A million dreams are keeping me awake I think of what the world could be A vision of the one I see A million dreams is all it's gonna take A million dreams for the world we're gonna make

-----

This art was made to go with my Lion Guard fan theory, which you can read below. Kion was drawn by me, but the background is made up of screenshots from the show.

The following is my fan theory/AU/headcanon, which I came up with to fit the Lion Guard show into the universe of the films. Extra info can be found in the description here . ----- Kiara and Kion were born to King Simba and Queen Nala, shortly after the death of their elder brother, Kopa, and the subsequent exile of Zira and her Outlanders. Though born from the same litter, the two of them couldn't have been more different. While feisty Kiara grew strong and healthy, little Kion struggled just to stay alive. He was weak, grew slowly, and was quick to fall ill. Kion was suffering from something the Pride Lander's called the Fading Sickness, which we know instead as an immunodeficiency disorder. No amount of Rafiki's healing mixtures could cure it, and Simba and Nala prayed to the Great Kings that their son would not go to join his grandfather among the stars. Kion's illness persisted from infancy to cubhood. He was smaller than his sister, underdeveloped, and spent most his time confined to Pride Rock. While Kiara began to explore the Pride Lands, Kion was rarely allowed outside for fear that he would catch sickness or overexert himself. Tensions grew between him and his sister, as Kiara secretly wished that she had a sibling who she could actually play with, while Kion resented the fact that she had all the freedoms he didn't. This would eventually culminate in Kiara wondering into the Outlands and meeting Kovu, and this was enough to shock Simba into action. He asked Nala's brother, Mheetu and his mate to move closer to Pride Rock with their two daughters, so that Kiara would have other cubs her age to play with. Kiara found her cousins, Tiifu and Zuri, a bit hard to relate to, but it was still a better alternative to playing by herself. Kion, on the other hand, usually found himself alone. His parents tried their best to spend time with him, but fear of causing him stress combined with the previous loss of Kopa meant that they often treated him as though he was made of glass. This would create a rift in their relationship and make Kion feel as though he couldn't really connect with them. The isolation, and the fact that he was often too tired to even walk the length of the cave, were wearing away at Kion's mind. The young cub was slowly slipping into a deep depression. It was Rafiki, the healer who was often called to help Kion when he fell ill, that began to tell Kion stories. Legends of the Pride Lands, stories of Kion's ancient ancestors, and tales of all the creatures he never got to see in the outside world. Among those stories were those of the Lion Guard, the band of lions which patrolled the Pride Lands and helped protect the Circle of Life. It was hoped that Kion himself might one day lead them, but his illness was making this seem less and less likely. Still, it gave Kion cause to dream. He fantasized about it as he stared at the paintings Rafiki drew for him on the walls of the cave, and through these fantasies he found an escape. He made friends from the characters on the walls, and envisioned himself as their leader. The birthmark on his shoulder became the Mark of the Guard, and his weak, fragile body was forgotten as he fantasized about his imagined power, the Roar of the Elders. The Roar was part of the legend of the first Guard and their leader, who was said to have a roar so powerful that it was as if all the lions of days past roared with him. Kion turned this legend into something fantastical and grand, imagining himself possessing a power so great it wouldn't matter that he was smaller and weaker than other cubs. These daydreams occupied him, his imaginary friends filling the blank spaces in his life, and he spent his days lost in fantasy as the powerful lion he could never be in the real world. Kion's health had its ups and downs over the years, but as he approached adolescence, he suddenly contracted an illness that he couldn't seem to recover from. His body raged with fever, and the young lion slipped into a near comatose state, lost somewhere between sleep and waking, with the illness pulling him ever closer towards oblivion. In this state his fantasies grew violent, with visions of fiery demons in volcanoes and a scar which corrupted his soul. As Kion's condition worsened, it was decided that he would be taken to Rafiki's tree, closer to the store of healing herbs and away from other lions that might transmit further infection. In his brief moments of consciousness, Kion pulled bits of the real world into his tumultuous fever dreams. Rafiki's tree became the Tree of Life, and paintings on the walls became part of his adventure to reach it. Through Rafiki's treatments, Kion would eventually be saved, but he was still confined to the tree when Kiara first reunited with Kovu, and during the final battle with Zira. He wasn't there to see his sister's wedding, but Kiara and Kovu came to visit him afterwards. Kion tried to be gracious, but couldn't help but feel envious of the happy life his sister was living. He was small, sick, and weak. With only a scrap of mane, he looked much younger than he really was. What lioness would have him? So once again he retreated into his fantasies, crafting a love interest for himself and imagining a happy ending to his story. Kion would return to Pride Rock shortly afterwards, unsure of where his place was in this new, blended pride. Worst of all was what came next, when Kovu's sister, Vitani approached Simba and Nala about the Lion Guard. The current Guard had no formal leader, and was made up of lions who were growing older and getting ready to retire. It was a Guard only in name, without the deep-seated traditions of those led by the relatives of the royal family. As the sister of the new Prince Consort, Vitani put forward that she could lead a new Lion Guard. After the death of her mother, she had found herself feeling a bit hopeless and lost, and thought perhaps this could be her new purpose in life. After all, Kion was far too sickly and weak to have any hope of forming his own Guard, so why not her? Simba said he would think about it, and Nala said that they should talk it over with their son. The king and queen saw sense in what Vitani was saying, thinking it might be a chance to really cement the Outlander's loyalty, but Kion was horrified by the suggestion. Although he knew his health made it unlikely, Kion had always dreamed of leading the Guard someday, and now Vitani wanted to take that away from him. Simba pled for him to see sense, and Nala assured him that he would always have a place in the pride, as a prince and as their son. After some persuading, Kion reluctantly agreed to think it over. In his fantasies he imagined Vitani's 'Guard' trying to challenge him and the imaginary partners he had fought alongside for so long. He drew further back into his dreams, fantasizing about a reality where he was loved and wanted and had a place as the ruler and protector of his own world. In the real world, Vitani seethed with frustration, knowing full well that Kion had no chance of leading the Guard, and angry at having her progress hindered by him. Why did he have to take this away from her? Her mother was gone. Nuka was gone. Her pride was scattered. This was all she had. It was only when Kiara came to her and explained all that Kion had gone through, admitting to her own undesirable feelings of resentment towards her brother, that Vitani began to think differently. Kion had spent his entire life locked away in that cave, with his fantasies about the Lion Guard as his only means of escape. Without the hope that he might one day recover and truly lead the Guard, what was left? What purpose did he have? Perhaps he and Vitani had more in common than she had first thought. Vitani went to Kion and confessed how lost she had felt since her mother died, how everything she thought she knew had crumbled, and she was just trying to find a place for herself in this new world. She said that she knew she couldn't replace Kion as the rightful leader of the Guard, but she would feel honored if he could help her become a leader the Guard could be proud of. Kion was struck by this. So often he had been coddled and treated as though he was too fragile to upset, with his family often reluctant to truly acknowledge his condition and what it meant for him. Something about Vitani's honesty struck a cord with him. He was forced to come to terms with the painful truth, but in so doing he found a sense of clarity. In his heart he knew what he needed to do. Kion agreed to help Vitani put together the new Lion Guard, with her as their leader. But even as leader Vitani came to Kion for advice and for guidance, and through this Kion finally found a sense of purpose. As time passed, Kion began to grow stronger. His maturing immune system gave him greater resistance to sickness and more energy to actually leave the cave which had been his prison for so long. Although he would still have occasional bouts of sickness, he was far more resilient than he had been in cubhood, and could use preventative measures to keep his health in check. He even found he now had the strength to accompany the Guard on the occasional mission, though he was primarily restricted to observation and instruction rather than any sort of physically demanding work. He would never be entirely rid of his condition, but he found a place in his family, in the Pride Lands, and in the Lion Guard. 

[tipsydipsydo]

Netflix and Chill🍿[F]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader 

Gender of the Reader: gender neutral  

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Comedy/Crack (or maybe I'm just not funny😅) and at the end a little bit Smut

AUs: University Student AU; Best Friends to Lovers AU (the two just have an almost painfully hard crush on each other without realizing it!🤦‍♀️)

Warning: A really questionable passion for massages and hair play/fondling, some weird situations and a little bit sexual tension in the end but nothing graphic!

A/N: Why did I write this fanfic? Because I count to those peoples who just love to be massaged and have their scalp rubbed. And I have a friend who loves it as much as I do and on our last Netflix night this weird and at the same time hilarious situation really happened. (Yes, I write whole fanfics about strange incidents🤦‍♀️) And when I said goodbye to her, I promised her that I'll write a fanfic about it! She just shook her head laughing and just said:"You can't be serious!" Yes, I'm serious! (Love you Nini♡~)

Please just read the fic, it's really cute and adorable and it won't be that weird like you think now! 🙇‍♀️🙏

I chose Hoseok because a long time ago I read this:

"J-Hope likes if someone stroke his hair-he says it helps him to sleep, a routine he picked up from childhood (when he was young, his mother used to pat him gently to put him to sleep)"

[Source: J-Hope's Profile on KProfiles (I don't know how relieable this Source is!)]

Information: My Masterlist can be found at the end of the Fanfic! 📝

Summary: Hoseok and you are best friends, especially because you two share an unique passion for which you get sometimes quizzically looks from others. Like every Friday Night you meet up to watch some series on Netflix together and massage and fondle the hair of each other. All the same, all innocent as ever. Until it comes to a certain situation and you realize the true meaning behind "Netflix and Chill" faster than you expected...

「© tipsydipsydo」

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Pleasurably sighing you turn your head in Hobi's lap to the left side so he can run his fingers through your hair on your right side and massage your scalp with the gentle pressure of his fingertips. If you could, you would start purring like a cat right away, you just love how your best friend knows exactly which massage techniques you like the most.

It's a typical friday night at your place. Like every week you meet your best friend Hoseok either at his dorm room or he comes to your place to gossip a little bit about the university events of the week and to speculate who is into whom, whether person A finally dared to made the first step to person B at the last party and person B still didn't get the hint at all.

Normally you're not the type for gossiping at all and you usually don't do it either. After all, you should mind your own business and don't put your nose in other people's business. But sometimes you can't stop fantasizing together with Hobi how happy some peoples in your university could be if they would only dare to talk to their crush. Or, seen from the other side, believe this person and give them a chance.

Oh, it's just always so easy to discuss other people's problems rather than take care of your own, isn't it?

On these evenings you binge-watch various Netflix Series together and live out your almost "secret" passion. You both just love to get a massage, your hair fondled and a great scalp rub. But you have often noticed that most of your friends don't share this passion and even some of your closer friends look at you quizzically when you ask if anyone can give you a massage.

You talk about the dirtiest secrets with these people, but as soon as it comes to innocent massaging, you find yourself in a "No-No Zone" and some people looked at you as if you're a complete weirdo.

Well, maybe, you two really so have a special relationship for massages than the "normal" humanity. But in these moments you don't care, you have each other to get your desired caresses and that's enough. At least you think so. At least you hope so.

You still try to believe that you've taken Hobi into your heart because of your shared love for massages and hair fondling and not because there are more than "normal" feelings of a very, very close friendship building up in your chest.

Maybe there is really reason why you like it so much to talk with Hobi about other people's crushes. Maybe because not to think so much about your own crush on your best friend and to eventually learn how Hobi sees these things. To get maybe some info on what it means for him to have a crush on someone.

Ah fuck, you just want to enjoy your head massage, nothing more! You're overthinking and overinterpreting things again. There is nothing between you two and there will certainly not be anything. Why you just can't be satisfied with what you have?

"Honey, why are you knit your eyebrows together like that? Does anything hurts or is the pressure to much. Please tell me when I accidentally use to much pressure in my fingertips. Okay?", asks Hobi and strokes tenderly with his thumb over the furrow between your eyebrows until you have relaxed again and the crease has disappeared.

"No, everything is fine, Hobi. I just was thinking about my last lecture, nothing important.", you quickly say, you don't want to make him suspicious because of your unusual behaviour.

...and that's just another thing that makes it so hard for you not to like him even more that you already do when he gives you such cute petnames.

When you once asked him about it, he just shrugged with his shoulders and replied that your female friends call each other (and you included!) Sweetheart or even Darling and he's your best friend after all, why he shouldn't be allowed to do it too?

Yes. He is your best friend. And not your boyfriend. That's the terrible difference! You absolutely don't mind him calling you that way. Just... your damn feelings seems not to understand that small but significant difference!

With gentle stroking movements of his long fingers he indicates that your head massage is gradually coming to an end and that he indirectly wants his favor in return now. You two just enjoy these caresses too much.

A little playful smile forms on your lips as Hobi softly says:

"So... it's my turn now, right?"

"Why do I get the feeling that your massages getting shorter and shorter, just because we can switch places earlier then and you can get your turn of the massage?"

A slight blush tints Hobi's cheeks in a soft pink and he starts pouting in such a damn cute way, so that you can't be mad at him at all, even if you wanted to.

"Take it as a compliment that I can't get enough of you! ...your massages and all, you know...", he mumbles and is suddenly in a hurry to position his head in the hollow of your cross-legged seat and closes his eyes so he's no longer at the mercy of your intense gaze.

A soft giggle leaves your lips and you shake your head, but gently turn his head to the side and let your fingers slide through his hair with light pressure as well.

A deep sigh from Hobi's chest comes over his half-open lips as you start to massage his scalp with small circles and the perfect pressure.

God, that's one of the many things he loves you for. That you didn't laugh or tease him when he told you at your first Netflix marathon a year ago, that he loves to get massages and hair fondling. Sometimes he needs it to fall asleep, that's why he usually watches ASMR massage videos now, to relax and then finally be able to finds his way into the dreamland.

But then there was you, completely different than all the others. Instead of teasing him you looked at him a bit shyly but with a bright smile on your lips and nodded strongly in agreement. Told him that you love it just as much he does and that all your friends look at you in the same confused way too, just like his.

And that was it when it started. With every new meeting he got to know so many other, also so lovely little habits of yours, so that's now difficult for him to keep his feelings for you in check everytime he sees you.

His friends already bother him constantly with the fact that he has his best friend saved as "Sunshine" together with a yellow little heart in his phone. Moreover that he calls you with various petnames, as if you're his partner and not his best friend.

Yoongi also start to asks him all the time when they finally get to the point of not just philosophizing about other people's lovestories and relationships and finally change their relationship-status from "friends" to "couple".

If only everything would be so simple. But that's just only dreaming and not reality. You two are friends, best friends. Unfortunately, to Hobi's displeasure, nothing more than that.

At least you allow him to call you with these petnames and he secretly enjoys it when other guys think that they don't have a chance anyway because it seems like you're already in a relationship with Hoseok.

Hobi hardly understands himself why he mutates into an almost shy and blushing mess when he's with you. Normally he's quite extroverted, outgoing, speaks to everyone and everything in no time, doesn't mince his words and he can be terribly direct sometimes too.

And you? You make your best friend discover unintentionally completely new sides of Quiet- and Shyness. Maybe just out of fear that you'd say that even as friends, if you knew he had a crush on you, it wouldn't work out. He doesn't want to lose a precious person like you just because of a rash gesture or certain words.

"I think you have to turn over on your stomach so that I can massage the back of your head too...", you say in a soft voice that makes Hobi's heart jump again. How he hates his lovesick heart...

He nods and without thinking about it, he turns around on his belly and shifts into a comfortable position. He's about to put his face right into the hollow of your crossed legs and that would mean, he would press his nose directly into your crotch.

That's the moment he realizes what he is about to do and stops abruptly.

"U-Uhm... I-I don't think I should do this...", he stutters in a raspy voice and clears his throat, laughing somewhat awkwardly.

Now you notice too what a questionable imagine this position would give and your head turn bright red. Oh God, why didn't you think of that?!

"Oh shit, I don't think I had thought it the whole way through. Maybe... maybe it would be better if you sit down properly and I would massage your neck and the back of your head in that position?", you say quickly in a nervous voice that almost rolls over.

Hobi nods quickly and gives you an embarrassed half smile before he sits down in your bed in an upright position and his back faces you.

Concentrated you start to massage Hobi's shoulders. You notice how he flinches and automatically stiffens when your hands touch him. Now your pressed lips forms a thin line, you're incredibly sorry to have put him in a such uncomfortable position.

"Sorry about... that. Let's just forget that stupid thing ever happened.", you murmur and stroke gently over and as calmingly as possible over his shoulders. Hobi nods slowly.

"I think we really should. Don't worry about it too much. I didn't realize it right away too. And nothing weird happend in the end anyway."

You hum in agreement. But you can't help it, you start to fantasize about what would have happened if it had happened. To fantasize a completely absurd, but for you completely comprehensible storyline together, why it would have been possible to kiss him. You're sure you seem to be losing your mind.

Yeah, if you only knew that Hobi had the exact same thoughts in his head as you in your own. How he could have managed to kiss and touch you after this hilarious situation. Maybe with a sassy comment like "I wouldn't mind to stay between your legs" and to elicit a cute and a bit embarrassed laugh from you. Then he would have "jokingly" wisper into your ear that he would like to be everywhere above or under you. Maybe you would have got the hint and maybe it would have given you both really a chance.

Maybe. Who the hell knows?

Hobi closes his eyes, relaxes again. God, why do you have to be so freaking good at massages? And before he can watch his mouth, a soft moan escapes his lips with the words:

"Yeah Baby, right there! Yes, that's the spot!"

You swallow hard when you hear this sensual sounds comes out of his mouth. Is he doing this on purpose to tease you? To take revenge to have embarrassed him? You can do that as well!

"Do you always moan like that when you have Sex?", you purr in his ear in your most seductive voice. In the corner of your eye you see Hoseok's Adam's Apple nervously bobbing.

"...do you want to find it out?", he asks with a growling voice and turns to you with darkended pupils.

Now there's nothing to stop you two anymore.

When Yoongi sees the unmissable hickeys on Hobi's and your neck on Monday morning and the way you two smile at each other like two idiots in love and can hardly keep your hands of each other, he sighs in relief.

"Thank God! Finally the miserable sneaking around like two lovesick cats has come to an end! Gradually we couldn't look at that anymore either!", he says it in the moment as the other boys turned around the corner.

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[geekns]

last night’s breakdown or...spectrum confessions

So i just wanted to saying something about the meltdown that some of you might have noticed last night (i know a couple of you did, though i think i managed to keep most of it under wraps).

I have a medical condition. It causes me to feel anxious and depressed. Constantly. To varying degrees. I take medication for it. I’ve tried to learn how to manage it. I try to hide it because the general public does not understand this condition. Furthermore, i don’t want to share the underlying trauma with anyone and everyone. I want to come across as a functioning adult as much as possible.

So even while I have spent fifteen years learning how to forgive the people who hurt me. And something like six months in therapy. And around two years being medicated...I still have occasional breakdowns.

Sometimes i still have a night where everything that i’m trying to keep copacetic, and acknowledged but not given free reign, takes over. It refuses to be medicated or meditated or prayed into compliance. It takes over me and pours out of me whether i want it or not. Suddenly i am not functioning, i am sobbing uncontrollably, and terrified, and feel guilty, and unloved, and imprisoned. And in those moments i want nothing more than to die. A part of me does not even trust myself not to harm myself. I want to be held (but am always alone). I want to protected (but never am). I am normally the person who takes care of others, no one ever takes care of me.

And i feel physically sick. Nausea, a headache, and body aches. Full body grief. Last night i was seeing flashing lights behind my eyelids as if i was having a seizure or on a bad trip. And the panic: the panic is in control, I cannot think straight. Even if i tell myself positive things, or try to use strategies for calming down, try to quiet my raging thoughts, the panic has free reign. It is in full control. And the only thing i can do is curl up in bed hugging my stuffed animal, clutching my blanket, waiting for it to end. And it won’t end until after I’ve slept it off. And I can’t sleep because I’m in fight or flight mode.

Maybe I should do some kickboxing when I get like this.

I’m going to confess, it was probably the worst it’s been in years last night. I was even trying to go to my safe place, and was kind of getting there (i usually can’t do my best safe place visualizing anymore, i think it’s the meds), but the person who normally talks me down from these things was not feeling safe last night. (His likeness was part of the reason i was freaking out tbh.) But even though i didn’t really want him there he didn’t go away, he stayed with me until i fell asleep.

I have imaginary friends sort of. Apparently they’re called tulpa? Though i don’t create or really control them, they just show up fully formed. Mostly when i’m panicking or worried. Whenever i need to talk things through that i have no one to talk to. The thing is, they always wear the likeness of real people, usually celebrities that play characters i strongly identify with. I used to get advice from Picard and Gandalf and Archer for instance. All of us sitting around a campfire on a beach. They’re always men, i don’t know why. (Hmm maybe that goes to daimons?) 

For example: one time i was on a train in Japan, underground, and a drunk man started yelling at two women halfway down the car. And i had a panic attack. And suddenly i was visualizing Twelve/PC talking me down from it, telling me to breathe, that i was safe, etc. Distracting me from the danger. (Two things: i read a story about him talking another fan down from a panic attack outside a convention later. And another male passenger escorted the drunk off the train at the next stop, but i was still panicking for a while. I still had to change trains and it would take me another hour to get home for the night.)

So part of the thing is that the thoughts i usually keep under control, don’t allow myself to dwell on, acknowledge but keep muted with optimism, become deafening and take over when this happens. I think way back when it would be 1-2 times a month, then 1-2 times a quarter, and now it’s 1-2 times a year, but it still happens. I used to just let all of the darkness come pouring out, usually through writing. I’m always alone. And i suppose it’s cathartic, but it’s horrific while it’s happening. I don’t recognize myself, the girl who never gives up and is always glass is 100% full. I don’t want to let others see it even as i’m desperate to be loved and held and accepted as i am.

It’s hard to explain.

When i wake up the next morning the darkness is gone. It’s quiet again, and i feel “normal” (normal for me). It’s hold is gone. Now i always live with a baseline amount of anxiety and depression, even while medicated. If i take too much medication i can’t sleep (i’m already an insomniac, i don’t need drugs making it worse) and so i can’t feel any sexual arousal at all...it really bothers me. It’s hard enough for me to become properly aroused without suppressing it entirely. I generally have to fantasize about something very specific (which let me tell you, the majority of you wouldn’t find to be sexy at all).

When i first went on the meds i spent months where i didn’t feel anything (other than that i was suddenly very chatty and animated in a completely uncharacteristic way) and i hated it. My mom doesn’t understand, doesn’t see repressed sexuality as a downside when i’m not married.

Re: asexuality. My grandma was on the spectrum (we always joke she had sex at least four times...resulting in four kids) and my mother probably is, too. I have had two short-lived dating relationships in which my only sexual desire was to satisfy my partner really. I don’t enjoy kissing. I do have a libido that’s greater than either my mother or grandma’s...but like i said, it’s fucked up and not initiated by any of the conventional methods. Kissing doesn’t make me feel like getting down, for instance. At least in my (so far limited) experience. I keep hoping that i’m actually demi and just need to meet the right person to make this a little bit easier for me. But it will probably just be something i have to work through for the rest of my life. 

Perhaps i should stipulate that I want to want to have sex. And when i do want to have sex i am always alone. And when i am with someone else the things that attract me are just odd. Being read aloud to, or talked to about nerdy things, got me farther than anything else. But it’s not the content so much as the mind that’s behind what’s being expressed.

I am certainly no expert on this subject. My therapist had never heard of demisexuality and had no input on asexuality. In other words, they were absolutely no help when it came to working through these issues, which is where I wanted to go (partially because i feel it may be tied in with my PTSD and is being repressed by fear).

Five types of attraction:

Romantic attraction: desiring a romantic relationship with someone

Aesthetic attraction: being attracted to someone based on how they look

Sensual or physical attraction: wanting to touch, hold, or cuddle someone

Platonic attraction: wanting to be friends with someone

Emotional attraction: wanting an emotional connection with someone

Most of my attraction is towards fictional characters (and to a varying extent the actors who play them). Both of my RL partners would only be physically expressive in private. They wouldn’t touch me in public. Or even in private spaces with others present. There was one i didn’t really know all that well and another who had hidden a lot from me up to that point even though he claimed he didn’t believe in hiding things from the person you’re dating. And we would be physical in private to varying degrees but i was left feeling largely unfulfilled. I kind of struggle with these definitions. Both of the guys I dated i had zero aesthetic attraction to but did have physical attraction to whereas they only wanted to express themselves sexually.

I strongly desire having a romantic relationship with someone but have for a very long time only had romantic attraction for fictional characters. I fairly recently had a physical and romantic attraction to someone for the first time, at first based on sapiosexual attraction that later became aesthetic attraction (why is there no listed attraction for this? I am usually attracted to people’s minds first).

I have very strong aesthetic attraction to certain actors...and this is a large part of the reason that i know i’m bi. But it isn’t only aesthetic for really strong attraction because i am sapiosexual and also strongly attracted to damaged, often misunderstood, people/characters. Case in point: Loki and Missy. In these cases i have strong physical attraction but not sexual attraction. I cannot fathom having sex with most characters or actors or people I meet in RL. I sometimes wonder what casual sex would be like but know that i could never...

I can only remember kissing someone (also a character) in a dream once and immediately put a stop to it, not because i wasn’t attracted to that person, but because they were unavailable in my mind. They were part of an OTP that i was not in. So there’s a strong romantic component for me.

Sensual or physical attraction is actually something I fantasize about a lot but have never experienced...outside of one platonic relationship. I had a friend when I lived in Japan who I wasn’t even particularly close to. But right away she would ask me if she could lean on me, lay against my lap, later link arms with. I can’t remember if we ever held hands. She was Chinese, and for an Asian girl this is very normal to do with platonic friends. Koreans call this “skin sisters.”

It was really weird for me because my own sisters don’t even want to do those sorts of things with me. I sometimes want to lean against my mother but most of my sisters would punch me rather than let me touch them affectionately. My youngest sister, once I came back from Japan, had reached a point where she was bolder and will goose, grope, grab, poke, pinch, try to pop my toes...it’s very disconcerting. She does things to me in front of others that i consider to be more sexual than platonic. Possibly because my only frame of reference is my father doing the same to my mother. She’s the only sister who will sometimes lean against me. But that was only after this friendship in Japan that was more physical than any of my “romantic” but-definitely-not-romantic partners. No kissing, but the sort of physical expression that i most long for.

Platonic attraction is rare for me. Extremely rare. Any platonic relationship i have pursued has always inevitably ended with spectacular heartbreak. In high school i was always on the outside. One platonic friendship ended dramatically (she had been hiding things from me, which is fine, but it ended badly and she moved away suddenly). Another platonic relationship fizzled because she was my best friend but i was just another friend for her. And whenever this happens to me, i am the friend that all plans will be cancelled with because the other friends have preference. And there was no big break there, i was old enough to not be heartbroken by it as i had by earlier examples of this. We still converse on FB and i am the person she came to first when she accidentally got pregnant in college. Have i mentioned that i’m the should people come to when they need emotional support? I’m a good listener and not judgmental and know when to give advice and when to stay mum.

Which brings me to spiritual attraction. We aren’t merely physical or mental beings. There is something else there. And my empathy, my spiritual center...there are times that i know things that i have no logical business knowing. I don’t always understand it, sometimes it’s a feeling, but my intuition is something that i’ve learned not to ignore. 

My last boss, i could tell he had anger issues. I only caught a glimpse of them once. He really liked me so i was fortunate. But every conversation we had after our initial meeting i could tell (spiritually) that he was potentially very dangerous to me emotionally. The more we interacted the more nervous it made me. Familiarity could lead to a loss of professional discretion.

Latter friend: i knew when she IMed me out of the blue after a six month drought that something big was up. She demurred that she couldn’t talk about it. I knew that the only reason that she had come to me was because she needed to tell me. Again, i had a feeling, and it turned out to be correct. She was pregnant. BF wanted her to abort. She didn’t believe in abortion. One conversation gave her the strength to stand up for herself and give her baby up for adoption.

Grandma: I was unable to go home for thanksgiving. Sister (roommate situation) went to her in-laws. I stayed home alone and worked. I was having panic attacks. I had the most heinous period of my entire life. A couple days later my dad calls me up and says: “Has anyone told you that Grandma is in the hospital? She had a heart attack.” No one had told me anything, I somehow knew something was wrong anyway. My brain just couldn’t make sense of it.

Kate Mulgrew: I somehow knew that she was looking for her daughter. Then-me interpreted this as Janeway having a missing daughter, expecting her to show up on the show and join the crew. What i didn’t realize that this was a real longing and need. I have carried this knowledge with me for over twenty years. I found out sometime within the past year that she had become pregnant early in her acting career, while on Ryan’s Hope, given her daughter up for closed adoption, regret it, and it was while she was on Voyager and coming into my awareness she was desperately searching for her, trying to find her, and did in fact find her. I had no rational way knowing any of that deeply personal information. I felt it anyway; deeply. In fact, it changed my life.

Which comes to emotional attraction. I really wanted to be an actor or an author. I don’t think I can memorize or anymore, my aphasia makes it extremely difficult to ad lib/improvise because there are road blocks where i cannot spontaneously retrieve the words i’m looking for. I don’t know if i’ll ever finish a novel, i’m hoping just to finish a lengthy fanfic at this point and then see what comes. A year ago i was doing much better, now it just feels like i’m under attack on all sides. But i feel a strong emotional attraction to artistic people in general.

This sometimes manifests as a sexual attraction for a short time. Sometimes. I can fantasize about a physical attraction...usually in the form of me comforting or being comforted. Sharing burdens. If i know that someone i’m attracted to or love is hurting then it hurts me, often with actual physical sensations (again with the spiritual connections). This tends to cause me to feel as if i “know people” or am kindred spirits with actors, authors, singers, etc. Again, i will sometimes know things that there’s no reason for me to know and is often pointless since it doesn’t enable me to comfort them when they don’t even know i exist.

I am generally okay with this, though it’s sometimes overwhelming. Sometime it feels like an inside joke or shared experience (rare for me outside family members) and gives me ecstatic joy. It’s really weird being an empath.

But again back to being demi: characters (or even the actors who play them) will sometimes feel like friends or family. Sometimes it translates to romantic or sexual attraction: this is very rare. It’s happened a handful of times, but it leaves me feeling completely broken. Why can’t i just be a normal person with normal relationships? Generally it is a positive thing because getting to share their experiences (through reading or watching) gives me a fair amount of feeling accepted, having someone to care for, and hope.

I am a very isolated person. I don’t currently have any RL friends. Most of my support network tends to be online but i don’t really have that going on for me since my last breakup (mutual friends seemed to stick with him, though one friend that was my friend first has since decided that he’s completely nuts and conveniently forgotten that she was the one to introduce us and encourage the pairing). And i know i’m weird but i actually don’t mind that. Having friends that live around the world? That have similar interests? But that i don’t have to get dressed and go outside my comfort zone to hang out with? Awesome.

A year ago i was living somewhere very isolated but i was in a good place because i was supporting myself, had been working full time and making career progress for the better part of a year, was okayish with being single, I had my new kitten, I was mostly happy. It would have been the ideal time for me to start a relationship. And i was actually feeling attracted to a coworker! Like that hadn’t happened for me in nearly twenty years!

But he didn’t want to be more. He wanted me to be the friend he went to to unload his emotional issues on. He didn’t want others to know. He didn’t want to be more than “professional” (it wasn’t professional what was going on, not really). And then COVID hit and everything started falling apart. Things had been wrong with that job that i was trying to stay separate from. Drama, potentially criminal actions, emotional outbursts. I got singed a few times. I knew that another coworker hated me. 

The second time they laid me off i packed everything up and moved back home. Upper management had been getting scary. I could tell that Grandma was reaching the end of her life and wanted to be near family. Which led to my last job, which i loved at first but couldn’t keep up with physically and that started to degrade my mental/emotional state. And then grandma died and i fell apart.

I’ve been trying to pull things back together. I really enjoy my current job but i don’t know if it will work out in the long term. The way the economy is going again...it’s scary. When Obama became president his policies were really punishing for the area. I had just graduated from college and couldn’t find full time work. I worked 2-3 part time jobs and lived with my parents because that was all i could afford. 

I went out on a couple of very large limbs trying to better my situation (teaching in Japan, CLD school) and neither has really. They were amazing opportunities but i get homesick. But then when i am here that’s bad for me emotionally. I need to find some sort of balance, and it’s looking like that balance is for me to live somewhere removed from family and only visit a couple times of years. Which i hate to do but i think i need those boundaries for my emotional well being. But i don’t know how i have a hope in hell of affording any of that. I have a couple of months left to figure it out before my lease is up on my apartment, i need to figure things out by then.

So all of this...i’m not trying to complain here. I know that i tend to come off that way because i’m just honest and matter of fact about things. This is the way things are in my experience. I’ve tried various ways to improve them. The reason i’m recording them is not to illicit pity. It’s so people who don’t have to deal with these issues can catch a glimpse of what it’s like and for others who deal with anxiety and depression can see that they’re not alone. That’s a huge deal. Wherever you are in your journey, you’re not alone, it may be a fight unique to your situation, but you’re not alone. Other people are suffering, too, and it’s not a competition. It’s okay.

I know that being single has its benefits. Living alone with a cat is not something i hate as a rule, let me tell you. What i do hate is not having two or more incomes coming into a household. It is extremely difficult in this day and age to make it alone. I don’t want to worry about anything but money is probably that biggest temptation. It leads to feeling like i’m trapped.

That’s probably why many relationships develop (a need for security) but i’m...i say it is like being broken. Maybe i am because of the PTSD. Maybe it’s just my normal for someone on the spectrum (and let me tell you that even claiming this as part of my identity triggers my imposter syndrome...all of this does really. I didn’t have to deal with the same level of physical abuse that many do so why can’t i just get over it, right?). But i dealt with enough that i cannot form relationships on convenience. I have to feel safe. I want to find someone who i could trust to raise kids with, to go the distance with.

Have i said yet that i tend to overthink things? 

I know that there’s not many of you who will have read this far. Thank you. Writing is part of my process in getting things reorganized in my shit show of a brain/heart/etc. The bottom line of this...i am improving grief wise, last night not withstanding. But i still want more. It’s my birthday and Christmas and it’s the hardest time for me in a way. Because it feels like i’m out of time. Another year has been lost forever. Have i made any progress at all? And it feels as if it’s already too late. My main goal in life was to become a mother and i can’t even have casual sex to manage it. I just can’t.

But there are spiritual things i’m trying to work through. That i don’t feel comfortable sharing here, really. Just i wonder about soul mates and twin flames and dreams/visions. I don’t know what the right choice is. Not for sure. And that is killing me because i want to know God’s will and do it. And i’m an impatient person who’s been waiting a particularly long time and i can’t say that i’ve gotten any better at it.