#like the legs of the feminine body with the skin tone that matches mine?

[michi-chelle]

i love playing games with important choices

[trans-boy-bunny]

All I can think about is a bigger man or woman, someone who towers over me, stalking and kidnapping me. They're so much stronger than me, and I've caught their attention, so it's only natural that they need to catch mine-what better way to get someone's attention than to force it?

They treat me so kindly, with soft touches and attention to sensitive spots after they set me up in their room. When i wake up, i'm wet and groggy. Their fingers and tongue are dripping with my arousal. I'm confused, scared, and *painfully* horny against my will.

They whisper of how they've been watching me for so long and are here to give me my wildest fantasies of being impregnated against my will. I struggle and cry that it's just kink, it was just a fetish, I didn't really want it, but I can't deny how much *wetter* I get when they mention breeding me, and they smirk. They rub my belly  possessively and i can feel their hot breath on my neck. I squirm and try to wiggle away, but a strong grip on me stops any notion of that, and I whimper, fear in my eyes and tears slip out.

Maybe, they're a real kind of freak and lick up my tears, savoring the salty, poignant taste.

Their hands are gentle as they undress me. Their touches are careful and well thought out, perfectly executed to have my body hot and begging for more, and they kiss up my jaw with a laugh when I whimper that I don't want it. They take off their own clothing, throwing them to the side. A saccharine perfume clings to their hair as they crawl on top of me. Their hair is soft and shining, and I squeeze my eyes shut when a part of me whispers that our children will be beautiful.

If its dark I try to catch their eyes. Shouldn't I see them? If its light out, I look away. I don't want to acknowledge the person I'm being forced to play breeder for.

Except my body does.

My body craves their touch, making itself wet and pliable, heat thrumming under my skin at the prospect of finally getting what I want.

Knocked up. Bred. A baby. The first of many.

"Please, don't..." I cry out, weakly. I'm not sure if I believe it. They sure as hell don't.

"Why wouldn't I?" Their tone is sweet, gentle. They kiss up my neck, whispering into my ear. "We both want me too."

"No, I-I don't-"

They press softly against my lips and stare at me. I squirm a little under their gaze before turning away, face hot. They chuckle, maybe feminine and sultry, maybe masculine and as warm as rich hot chocolate, maybe neither, and move slightly away from me. I whimper from the chill left by it and they smile at me. Not mockingly, not pitying, just fondly.

It's too sweet. I don't want to like it. I can't like it.

But even if I pretend I don't, my body makes no such distinction, and I squirm again as my hole grows slicker.

I hear the unzipping of pants or the unclasping of a bra. Something scorchingly hot nests itself against me, under my small cock and over my hole, and I can't be bothered to deny the fact I move my hips to match their movements. I've always been a sucker for frottage.

Their cock is around seven inches and semi-thick, warm and spreading my folds so easily. My brain begins to shut off, only one thought echoing:

I need it inside me.

I let out small and breathy moans as they began to rub themself against my cock more forcefully. I keen when they step away, bucking my hips and whining to try and get it back near me. My arousal drips down in what feels like waves. They hold their cock an inch away from my pussy, a slight, feral grin on their face.

"You want me to put it back? Is that what you want?"

"Please, please, please-!"

I scream and clasp my legs around their torso as they step back and push in with one swoop, my back arching when they bottom out, and twitch slightly. Some distant part of my rational brain buzzes to life and I push and slam my fists on their chest.

"Get off of me! Get off, get off, get off-"

They pull out until the tiniest sliver of their tip remains, and slam back in with enough force to make me dizzy. Their cock rams against my cervix so easily and I scream, brain througly shut off as they pant above me and slam their hips in and out at a brutal pace.

A hand is splayed over my stomach. "I'm gonna fill you, fuck, I'm gonna knock you up, you're going to look so good with a baby bump, shit, you'll never be empty again, FUCK!"

Warmth floods my insides soon after that. I rock back and forth, body taut and dick and pussy hard, chasing an orgasm of my own. Their hips still. I cockwarm them as the hand on my tummy never strays but the othet slips down to my cock. They lightly thrust and rub my dick as they do, alternating between admiring their handiwork and getting close to my ear to make more.

"It's easier to get knocked up if you cum, baby boy. Cum for me, baby, come on, come on, you can't be a daddy if you can't cum, come on. Get pregnant with the first," They rub my cock a certain way and I wail, clawing at their back and my legs holding them close in a chokehold, pussy squeezing and twitching as they continue to rub. "You're gonna be my breeding bitch for the rest of our lives, baby boy. Your boywomb will never be empty again!"

They pull out and admire my gaping, shuddering pussy. They angle my hips up and give my pussy a light slap, rummaging behind them before easily a thick dildo into my still hungry hole. I squeese around it instantly and they lay beside me, pulling me closer with a leg over their hip. They rub my tummy and toy with my tcock.

"I love you," They whisper. "You're gonna look so sexy with a baby bump, surrounded by our children."

I cum again from words alone and place my hand over theirs, guiding their hand to rub and squeeze over my womb, hoping it begins to swell with child soon.

A few months later and with a bump between my spread legs as I bounce on their cock, I couldn't be happier.

[sin-of-jess]

Mt. Lady

Type: Smut

I’ve been wanting to do some lesbian action for a while, and honestly she seems like the perfect starter!

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

"But Y/N!!  This is my last outfit and I'm on patrol tonight!"  Mt. Lady complains to me, wearing her signature pro-hero costume that was horribly singed and cut up nearly beyond repair; one of the legs wasn't even attached to the suit and she had someone's mid-length skirt on over her costume for some reason. I can't help when my eyes go to her chest before her face, but I still frown at her, "I'm sorry Mt. Lady, but I'm incredibly busy.  Can't you ask one of the others on the floor?" She pouts as she cocks one of her hips to the side, "You do better work than the others by far, no one knows this style of fabric like you do!"  I roll my eyes, my gaze reaching her chest again before meeting her face again.  She gets a grin on her face and leans across my table, jutting her chest out and making me realize there was a tear in the fabric underneath her left breast.  "Can't you pause the others and do mine really fast?"  She asks in a flirty tone.

I'm ashamed of how long it took me to tear my eyes away from the exposed skin of her underboob to meet her face, though I had a hard time meeting her direct gaze, "I can't just stop the commitments to these hero's to fix yours, it's not even a quick fix!" She pushes her chest out even more, and I realize she's doing her usual ploy of feminine innuendo to get her way.  I didn't think she'd use those tactics on a woman like me, but I wasn't going to complain about the sexy sight in front of me.  "What if I make it worth your while to do it?" I raise my eyebrow and finally lock eyes with her, "What could you possibly propose to get me to do that?"  It felt like a stupid question, but I was genuinely curious as to what she had up her damaged sleeve. She sways her hips dramatically as she walks over to the door of my office, making a flourish to lock the door before coming back to where she was, "I could stay here naked while I wait." She said it so nonchalantly that it stole the air from my lungs.  I cough and drop what was in my hands, looking up at her in surprise, "You'd what?!" She starts fingering at the spot on her chest that's torn, pulling the material up to show more of her voluptuous tits.  "I saw you trying to sneak a peek, what harm would it look to let you get your fill and I get my suit done?"  I'm speechless, my eyes first moving to all the damage of her costume while lingering on her curves.  "Would you like to see why I had to wear this awful skirt?"  She asks me, unzipping it from the side and pushing it off her hips.  I don't see it hit the floor, my widened eyes glued to the obscenely placed cut in her suit that let her pussy hang free. "I uh..."  I stammer, licking my lips as I start unabashed at her hairless mound.   "Is that a yes?"  She asks me in a tone that meant she already knew the answer.  I nod my head.  "Well, then I guess you'll need this then!"  She pulls the suit down in one fluid motion, years of wearing the style costume making her use to taking it off.  Her entire body is free for me to see, and it takes me a few tries to take the suit out of her hands with my focus on memorizing every part of her glorious body.   It takes me a moment to pull my eyes away to start working on her suit, taking off the fabric that's unfixable and cutting it off.  While I rummage through my storage to find the material that matches her costume she busies herself grabbing a chair from the corner of the room and sitting it across from my desk.  I'm able to take a few minutes to start measuring the fabric and getting it prepped to put on the suit, but I can't focus on much once the hero across from me gets fidgety.   At first, she's just rubbing her hands along her chest, almost intentionally avoiding her nipples that were probably hard from the brisk temperature of my office.  I roll my chair over to the specially made sewing matching beside my desk to start shaping the fabric I cut, and facing away from the woman gives me a moment to catch my breath.  It's like my cheeks are on fire, and it's hard to focus on the work at hand.   "Are you interested in woman, Miss. Y/N?"  She asks, swirling her fingers around her nipples as close as she can without directly touching them.   I stumble over my words as I roll back to my desk and am greeted with Mt. Lady's legs now splayed out in front of me.  "I uh.. I am actually."  I don't know how deeply she wants me to delve into my sexuality, but the situation at hand leads me to believe she only cares if I'm sexually attracted to her. "You know what's the best part of women?  They know how to touch me properly."  She tells me as one of her hands traces symbols around her stomach and down towards her crotch.  "Men can be enthusiastic and experienced ones have the hang of it, but a woman knows where she likes to be touched and can learn fast on how to do it on another,"  She continues her one-sided conversation as she starts sliding her finger up and down her moistening petals.   "I, I wouldn't know..."  I awkwardly reply, my hands struggling to work due to my shaking.   Her eyes flicker up to mine, "What do you mean?" I shift in my seat uncomfortably, "Well, I've never had the chance to... to try..." Her eyes turn mischievous as she slowly rises from her chair, "So you've never pleased a woman, or,"  Her eyes travel down and back up to me, "or pleased by one?"  I meekly shake my head no and lean forward to focus on the project at hand.  My focus is brought back up to her though when her form comes into view as she climbs onto the heavy wooden desk.  "Do you want to right now?" She shifts her body so that her pussy is at the edge of my desk, feet perched on either side of her as she spread her knees out.  I lick my lips again, dropping everything in my hands and beginning to reach out.  I hesitate only for a moment, looking up at her and being greeted by her chest being more visible than her face.  It was the first time I realized how tall my desk was. Mt. Lady grabs the back of my head and guides me closer to her wet center, "Come on baby girl, make me feel good," 'Always thinking of herself,' I think to myself before leaning in to dive into her core.  It's sweet and there's a lot of it, giving me plenty of time to enjoy her flavor.  I start by swirling my tongue around her folds, collecting her juices, and swallowing them greedily.  She lets out breathy moans as she lets me use her to experiment.  As her whines get more frequent I decide to focus my attention on trying to make her cum.  I latch my lips around her clit and swirl it around, using my fingers to mimic what I do to my own pussy when alone.   I had to admit I had thought about this before.  She was the hottest hero at the moment and she was loud and proud about how sexy she was.  Seeing her on TV made my insides clench up, and I couldn't believe that I now had her writhing in pleasure on my work desk.  "Suck tighter put a finger in me too..."  She moans out, her hips instantly pushing into me the second I slide my finger in.  It takes a moment to get down pat, but once I can properly coordinate sucking her clit and fingering her I add a second finger.   In hindsight, she was being far too loud, but I was drunk on the intoxicating flavor of her and let her do what she wanted as long as I could be buried in her pussy.  She suddenly grips my hair, pulling me deeper into her, "I'm gonna cum, make me cum, Y/N!"  She says as she pushes into me so hard it barely gives me room to breathe.  I piston my fingers into her as I suck on her clit and swirl my tongue at the same time, my reward being drowned in her juices. When I finally release her clit I'm breathing heavy, my face from nose to chin soaked in her fluids.  Her cheeks and chest are flush as she looks down at me dazed, "You should do that again,"

[alitheamateur]

Springtime Seduction

A lazy Spring morning seems to be just that. Until your boyfriend makes a surprise visit...

WARNINGS: NSFW. Oral sex. Unprotected sex. Language. Mild, mild language of a possessive nature.

CHRIS EVANS X  FEMALE READER

The fresh wind of the Springtime air shook out the darkness of night from the crisp curtains hanging in your bedroom window. You’d left the glass opened last night; the stench of a rainy drizzle always poisoned you with welcomed restful sleep. There was a bird chirping her melodious repetitions, alerting all the world that the warm sun had once more risen. Your eyes twitch with the notion to wake, and your toes curls under the smooth sheet, itching to touch the floor and dart to the coffee machine in the kitchen. But, you had no urgency to climb from the pillows and start your unplanned day yet, so, ‘no hurry’, you smiled to yourself.

You rolled to your back, neck craning to the comfiest curve of your pillow, and inhaled the dew of the grass just before you let yourself doze back into slumber. A chilly, gentle gust burst through the window, so you pulled the plush duvet up a smidge higher on your shoulders, and settled into the crook of your mattress for only another hours rest.

Just as the lids of your eyes began to relax into a lazy sleep, the front door suddenly latched. For the flicker of a second, your senses stood on defensive alert, before you remember certainly you’d locked it before retreating to your bedroom last night. Which only meant one thing…

The stairs ever so noticeably creaked, and you half-grinned as you envisioned him tip-toeing up each one, careful to remain undetected. He had your routine down to a science, and to be fair, you normally wouldn’t be up and stirring for at least another hour, especially on a leisure Saturday.

You turned toward the doorway, contemplating the idea of shutting your eyes and pretending so not to ruin his little surprise, but the every make up of your anatomy longed for a sight of him.

You heard him rustling closer and closer, and when his footsteps quieted on the rug just near to door, a giddy tingle rolled up your spine.

“You always just come barging into peoples houses before 9 a.m., Evans?” You croaked just above a whisper, the usual tenor of your voice not yet awake.

Chris froze as if to be caught in the act, his gentle eyes rounding in fright.

He carried a tray of coffee orders in one hand, another bag tucked under his arm, and the fullness of a bright bouquet of pink tulips in the other. The powder blue of his wrinkled t-shirt ignited the tones of his irises, and your feminine bits trembled at the always appreciated backwards turn of his Red Sox hat.

“Only when I have cold brew.”

You swooned. “God. You perfect, perfect man. The entire population hates me for taking you as my own, I just know it.”

He dropped his head to the floor, that God-forsaken beautiful blush tinting his cheekbones just above where the line of his beard stops. The man is tangible, walking, living, breathing sex, and can’t take a compliment if his life depended on it. You see him smile, the lush flutter of his lashes falling closed.

“But, you better bring me those pastries I smell in that bag before I change my mind about you.”

Chris kicked off his shoes, laying the lush bouquet on the nightstand beside the bed before managing to stuff his black sunglasses into the pocket of his light jacket and padding towards you. You raise the covers, offering him a warm spot to slump in next to you. You paw eagerly at the contents of the warm paper bag stuffed with sugary goodness, but he yanks it swiftly out of your grips.

“I think I may deserve a kiss, or two first.” He states, tilting his head matter-of-factly.

You scooched yourself into his side, pushing the ballcap from his head, lacing your fingers around the back of his neck. Your breath could probably wilt the gorgeous flowers he’d brought to you, but he didn’t seem to mind as he pushed the frizzy strands of hair from your cheeks.

“You may have earned it.” You lilt, moving your lips to his.

He smells divine as the space between the two of you closes. Orange soap with a musky side, and the leftover hint of the flower shop down the street where he made a pit stop. There was coffee grinds and wintergreen lingering on his mouth as a dance of two tongues fell underway.

After the length span of a good-morning kiss, he pinched the exposed cheek of your tail end, barely covered in the innocent shape of your boring pink panties. You hadn’t been expecting him, and your apparel selection from last night gave it away.

“Mmm, it’s still warm. Bova’s or Mike’s?” You asked, greedily awaiting your treat like a dog who’d just obeyed her owners command.

“Close your eyes.” Chris cheekily whispered biting his lip, his hand disappearing into the bag.

You sat up on your hunches beside him, the tight span of your tank top no doubt displaying your bare nipples.

You heard a crinkling of paper, then silence. The hairs on your neck stood on end, as if alerting you of his closeness. His heavy hand softly found your face, cradling your jaw, and before long there was the sensation of a feathery warmth tracing your lips, leaving a trail of creamy goodness in its wake.

No question, the sweet concoction was definitely a Bova’s cannoli.

“Cut it out, or you’ll lose a finger.”

You hummed, you tongue chasing his circle around your mouth, eager to steal a bite. Chris laughed at you for much longer than you felt necessary before giving in and allowing a hearty taste.

“I forget how hungry my girl is in the mornings.”

 With stuffed bellies, and a barely noticeable fog hazing the light outside, the pair of you had fallen lethargic and drowsy despite the caffeine swimming inside your veins. Chris had discarded his shirt after losing the contents of his cannoli down the front, and you’d keyed up the record player on your way back to bed from the bathroom.

“Not a care in the world,” you happily moaned tucked into the easy embrace of his grasp, your nose buried in the curve of his neck to cuddle him like a purring kitten.

Chris twirled a loose tendril of your hair around his index finger, and you could almost hear the murmurs of his love for you in the rhythm of his heart beating inside his chest.

“You’re my only care in the world.”

He rolled you suddenly to your back, hitching your legs up snuggly around his trim waist. When he pushed his pelvis toward the heat of your center, the solid, hard greeting of his arousal was unmistakable.

And huge.

As you suctioned yourself to him, insatiable for the friction of his bulge, Chris tented the sheet over both your heads, chuckling into your neck, and nipping with his smiley mouth. Cocooned in the cover of a freshly washed sheet, the light only barely dimmed, your wandering eyes found his.

Love is a feeling. An emotion of the heart. But, in that moment, entranced in his gazes, you thought you could actually feel in on your skin where his hands blindly traced your curves. Seizing his lips, you closed your eyes, categorizing every sense of the moment.

The heat in his fingertips. The hint of a decadent pastry on his tongue. The smell of your own scent in your soaking panties as his bare chest deliciously chaffed your nipples through the thin cotton tee.

Driven to insanity with unsafe heights of desire, he dismissed your wet kiss only to do the same with your clothes. Along with his own. The temperature of the changing season outside was brisk on your bare body, but only for a moment before his hotness encased you. Chris smashed his suckling, enflamed lips to the peak of your breasts, a languid howl crawling from your throat at the sensation of his nibbling teeth. When he worked his laps and licks upward to your collarbone, the line of your throat, the lobes of your ear, his pulsing length inched closer, and closer to your wetness. Anticipation likely to smother you.

“I… I feel like I’m dreaming right now.” You admitted. Short, gravelly breaths escaping from your lungs. You tried to remain composed, yet you were completely consumed with a delirious haze of ecstasy at the hands of your dearest love.

Bodies sliding in a matched, sweaty cadence, he rolled his hips into you, and momentarily his presence disappeared.

Until, it returned.

As if time had lapsed into slow motion, his lengthy, painfully seductive licks invaded your entrance. His welcomed assaults nearly had you on the verge of tears.

“I’d starve myself if it meant I could eat you every minute, of every day. You’re fucking mine, Y/N. Do you hear me? Mine.” His mouth buzzed over your tight clit. Chris burrowed his face wholly into your slickness, nuzzling to douse himself with the flavor only you could offer up, and you heard him inhale deeply. You tugged at his hair, punishing and praising the sinful mouth that plundered you. Long swipes of his tongue journey up, then downward. Scandalously toying with the puckered entrance of your ass. He glanced up over a hooded stare, the devil himself reflecting in his eyes when he felt you stiffen a bit.

“Relax, angel. Not now. But soon…”  

With a shamefully minuscule flick of his finger, you were soaring the crest of orgasmic explosion like never before. Your mind settled on the conclusion that this man was a true form of magic. Arching into him for one last tingle of your release, the moans of his name dripped from your lips like thick, hot honey. He tuned your body to be the exact music his ears desired.

“Fill me, Chris. Fucking now.” Taken aback by the pitiful whine of your unfamiliar voice, the man bit his way up your body to meet your mouth and share the taste.

The wind gusted through the window, making you now hyperaware of the saturated sheets beneath two mounds of flesh melting together. You couldn’t recall every being so soaked, and your body shudders.

“Open up for me, baby. I wanna watch my cock sink into you.” He massages the bone of your hips, the gentle pinch of fingers near breaking skin.

Your brain was officially reduced to dust.

With a watchful eye, just as he’d said, Chris turned his attention to the meeting of flesh. Your muscles grew taught for a fast second adjusting to the stretch of his size, before your bones liquified in lavish satisfaction at such fullness.

His pupils were blown as he quivered with tormented longing, pushing himself in and out of the gripping lips of your cunt, seeking the perfect duet of bursting thrusts, and unhurried slides. Chris knew how to render you putty in his marvelous hands, squealing and rutting like a lewd animal. With one leg mounted over his shoulder, the other broad and leading him to the road of release, sweat from his brow rained onto your breasts. If you squeezed your eyes closed tight enough, you’d swear it sizzled upon your electric flesh.

Nails gripping into the flesh of his pecs, a familiar twinge of numbness raced down your thighs just as he drove into you with a steady rhythm. There’s sweat pooling in the circle of your belly button, your upper lip stained also with the salty flavor as you concentrate on capturing every fiber of pleasure from him. Your nipples harden tightly when you lock eyes, and he winks down like a wicked slice of sex.

“My pretty girl. Takes it so well, doesn’t she? And so fucking beautiful while doing it.”

“Please. Yes, Chris. I’m about to come. Fuck, I’m going to explode.”

Taking your pleasant plea as an invitation, he licks the pad of his thumb and places it to your most tender spot, and drives his thrusts home like a man on a mission.

He growls moments later, the veins of his neck threatening to break the skin of his neck, and a strained blush falls over his chest. Warm cream empties into your belly just as your toes curl in orgasm. There will likely be bruises come tomorrow to remind you of his fevered clutches, and you revel in the thought of him marking you so crudely.

“Fuck, I love Springtime.” He croons, falling lifelessly to your side with a soft kiss.

TAGS: @sincerelyyourz​ @miidailyinspiration​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @spideypxgirl​ @fanfictionaffair​ @firstangeldragonranch​ @denisemarieangelina​

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Two for Flinching

(A/N: Some wound description and technically self harm? {wound burning for infection control}, so warnings for that. Just some Eragon and co. during the run to the Varden. This one actually has a bit more setup for Eragon’s book 1/early book 2 characterization, but I’m not sure how I did. He’s hard for me to write. There’s also quite a few mentions of tech and magic mechanics that I’ve worked into MIC, but those will be mentioned more in the tags.)

~~~

Eragon winced as Saphira landed. Per their usual travel plans since Gil'ead and Arya’s awakening he had spent the night flying with Saphira while the others traveled at a continued breakneck pace on the ground with the horses. It was wearing them all down, even Saphira, and the few hours of sleep they managed to get during the daylight hours did little to alleviate the stress travel was putting on their bodies.

Camp was already in the midst of being set as Eragon untied his legs from the saddle and slid down Saphira’s side. He landed then grimaced as he fell to his knees, muscles feeling like jelly.

“Did you see anything worth mentioning?” Brom asked as the young Rider pushed himself up. When he shook his head, not trusting himself to speak aloud, the older man grunted and turned back to unsaddling Snowfire. “There’s supposed to be some old, ruined staging points of the Varden’s around here. Must be further up ahead. We’re going slower than I thought.”

“We’re going as fast as we can.” Murtagh snapped. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. Lately Eragon had noticed that the other youth was becoming increasingly agitated, quick to anger, and it wasn’t just the lack of sleep and lingering sunburn getting to him.“If you want to warn the Varden so bad, do some of your little magic tricks and tell them about the Urgals.”

Arya spoke quickly from where she crouched coaxing the fire to life, cutting off Brom’s scathing retort and ending the argument before it began. “It doesn’t exactly work like that. Besides, the Varden has specific wards around their strongholds, preventing scrying and other magical forms of communication.”

Eragon eased himself down next to the elf, trying to warm fingers stiff from flying so high in the chill clouds. “Then how do they stay in contact with you and anyone else outside their hiding spots? It seems dangerous to be so isolated.”

The woman gently rearranged a few sticks to give the young flames more air and slipped a dark object under the growing pile of embers. “Special radios were developed, using the fingerprint technology similar to lock on my backpack. Mine was destroyed when Durza tried to operate it himself.” She cracked a slight grin, still focused on her task. “Well, actually, it blew up in his face. Brain matter, just everywhere. Huh-hoo, he was pissed when he got back.”

“The Varden rigs them to explode if the person’s fingerprint doesn’t match?!” Eragon recoiled slightly, agast. “What if someone’s kid found it and thought it was a toy?”

Off to the side, Brom snorted, muttering, “I bet it wasn’t the Varden who–”

“No, I rigged it up myself, and only for those who bore ill-will to the Varden and free races in case it fell into the wrong hands.”

“Knew it.” Brom scoffed. Arya looked over her shoulder to the old Rider and rolled her eyes. “You just like seeing things explode.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in years than when that thing went off. I think I even cracked a rib.”

Brom shook his head, but let the matter go.

It wasn’t long before the fire was high and the day’s meal heated. They sat around the burning logs, Saphira even laying her head down to occupy a third of the circle, and planned the next few legs of travel. When the food was eaten, the talk dwindled away as they all sat staring into the flames, tired but not willing to sleep just yet.

Then Saphira flicked out her tongue, as if tasting the air, and projected her thoughts to the group.

‘Whoever has the infected wound should care for it soon.’ Everyone looked up, mildly startled out of their inner musings. 'It will turn into a deep-rot in another day or so. Just thought they should know.’

“You can smell things like that?” Eragon asked, surprised. “Are you like one of those dogs that can smell cancer?”

The dragon cut her eyes at him and her lip lifted slightly. 'I am nothing like a dog.’

The boy smiled apologetically, realizing his mistake. “I know. Sorry. But it’s pretty cool being able to smell things like that.”

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. “Aye, it’s cool. But shouldn’t we be more focused on who the hell was hiding a possibly necrotic wound? Things like that need to be addressed. It would only slow us down more.”

Then a ringing SMACK! broke through the air as Brom suddenly slapped Arya upside the head. Hard.

“What the hell were you thinking, girl?” He growled, expression dark.

“Ow! Hey, why the fuck do you think it’s me?!” The elf retorted sharply, rubbing the back of her head and glaring back at him.

Everyone, even Saphira, gave the woman a deadpan look that clearly asked 'really?’

She put her hands up. “Alright, alright, so yeah, maybe a cut or two got infected, but I’m already fixing them, okay?” Arya snarled, pointing at the handle of a knife sticking out of the dying fire’s thick pile of coals.

Silence fell.

“Are you sure that is the best idea?” Brom asked slowly. He seemed to have calmed down a bit now that Arya had revealed having an actual plan and wasn’t just ignoring her injuries. His change in tone made Eragon wonder if the latter was a common occurrence. “There’s always magic. You don’t have to–”

“And who, exactly, would cast it, hm? Eragon? Can you instruct him in the intricacies of infection cleansing within the next few minutes? I’ve still got enough drug in me to complicate healing spells, so that’s out of the question. And I’ll not have you working spells on me, not when the Varden will need you at your best.” Arya shook her head. “No, it will have to be burned.”

Murtagh stood at the mention of burning. “Oh, bloody hell. Not right after we ate!” He retreated to where he had tossed his saddlebags and began unrolling his sleeping bag. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again– you’re bloody insane, Arya. I don’t want to see this. I’m going to sleep.”

“Sweet dreams, Murtagh.” The elf called after him in a singsong voice. “Don’t let the sizzling wake you up!” The young man let out a noise of disgust and threw himself on the blankets. “Wuss.”

'She can’t be serious about this!’ Eragon exclaimed to Saphira, worried about the elf who was unlacing her boots as calmly as a praying monk. 'She’s already hurt enough! We should offer to heal it. I know she shot Brom down, but–’

Saphira cut him off. 'Little one, do you honestly think that we know enough about healing to cleanse even a scratch of infection without making it worse? Brom has explained before that waíse heill has its limitations, one of the most dangerous being that if it closes an infected injury the infection will survive beneath the skin.’ Eragon grimaced, cursing himself for nearly forgetting one of the nuances of the spell. 'Once the infected flesh is burned away, thenwe can attempt to heal it for Arya.’

Her logic was sound. 'I still don’t like it. But you’re right.’

The dragon sniffed, a short puff of smoke dissipating into the air above her nostrils. 'Of course I am.’

Eragon grinned, then turned his attention back to where Brom and Arya still sat by the fire as the older Rider grunted, “That looks like it hurt. You’re lucky it didn’t break.” The boy approached them as Arya finished rolling her pant leg up to her knee.

“Perks of elvish bones, I guess.” Arya muttered, gently testing the skin around the injury. On the outside of her left calf was a nasty, scraping gash, most likely left by the sharp edge of a hobnailed boot if the bruising pattern was anything to go by. The skin around the ragged edges was pink and red, and cracks ran through the roughly palm sized scab covering the cut and revealing damp, yellowish flesh beneath. Pinkish, yellow tinged fluid leaked from the cracks. “Damn. At least it isn’t necrotic. You were right, Saphira. This one is about to turn.” The elf flashed a thankful smile to the dragon. “Hell, you might have just saved my leg.”

'You’re quite welcome.’

Eragon winced when he saw the wound. “After you, uh…burn it, I can close it for you. A burn isn’t too hard to heal, and it would keep it from getting infected again and slowing you down.”

For a for a split second the memory of healing the elf’s back jumped to the forefront of his mind. Not images of the horrifying wounds, but of warm skin, lean muscle and an unmistakably feminine body. Eragon felt the tips of his tapering ears turn bright red, and he quickly stuck his hands in his pockets, pinching himself hard through the fabric. It was definitely not the time for those kinds of thoughts.

He was thankful, then, that Arya looked over to Brom after giving him only a quick glance. “What do you think, old man? I can keep up well enough. Wouldn’t mind a little less risk of that changing though.”

Brom crossed his arms. “It’s up to the boy and Saphira. Do you two think you can handle it?”

Eragon nodded firmly. “I’m sure I can. Definitely if Saphira helps. I really don’t mind it, and it’s the least I can do after being unable to heal the rest of your wounds properly.”

“Hey, you and Saphira don’t owe me anything. You saved my life in probably three different ways so far, so I’m the one that owes you all.” Arya pulled a field medkit from her bag and tore off two short wads of gauze from a roll. “If you both want to heal it and it won’t put either of you in danger, I won’t complain. It won’t be the last time I say it, but thank you. Really.”

Eragon smiled, a strange warmth bubbling in his heart at the elf’s expression of gratitude. In the back of his mind he sensed Saphira examining his emotions, and was a little confused when the dragon mentally chuckled at them. “You’re welcome. I like to help where I can.”

“Mm. Let’s get this over with then.” Without further ado Arya pulled the knife from the coals.

It was an old blade of human make, and by the seal stamped on the handle Eragon recognized it as one of the combat knives he had grabbed from a soldier during their mad escape from Gil'ead. In the light of the midmorning sun it was difficult to judge if the metal was glowing fiercely, but the blade had acquired a unmistakeable, faint orange color at the sides and an inch down the tip. At the thicker sections it seemed to be lit on the inside by a deep, dark cherry red glow.

Arya took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and went to stick the wad of gauze in her mouth as she lowered the hot blade towards her leg. Brom’s hand suddenly settled on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, startled out of her grim task.

“Do you want me to do it?” The old Rider’s voice was surprisingly gentle, soft even. In the months he had traveled with him, Eragon had heard him speak in such a tone only a handful of times, mostly murmured under his breath to himself or to Jeod when talking about the Varden and times past. Despite their rough banter, Eragon realized the Brom and Arya were undoubtedly good friends, to the point that he wondered if the two had fought together on the battlefield.

Arya looked between Brom and the knife for a moment, then sighed, “You might have to if I flinch and can’t keep up the pressure. I want to try it myself first, but thanks for having my back.” Brom nodded and pulled his hand back as the elf bit down on the gauze.

Then, without any other warning, she tore her nails across the gash in her leg, ripping away the disintegrating scab, and shoved the flat of the glowing knife into the now open wound.

Eragon jerked back, flinching as his self preservation instinct screamed at the indecency of blatant self-destruction. It wasn’t the visual that disturbed him, but the sound of the metal burning away first the blood and fluids, and then the infected flesh beneath. It hissed and sizzled, and occasionally sounded like the powerful magnet toys he used to buy at the fair and toss in the air hear their buzzing song.

For a moment Arya’s muscles snapped rigid, then she seemed to recover and her face fell into a blank, emotionless mask. After letting the blade rest in its original spot for several long seconds she lifted it and exposed the two remaining sections of the gash to the heat, quickly wiping the knife on the other piece of gauze between each burning. Eragon’s stomach did a sickening maneuver similar to a double full flip he had witnessed Katrina do at one of her gymnastics presentations with Roran when he realized that she was wiping seared flesh off the blade.

Then it was over. The entire procedure couldn’t have taken more than a minute, but the scent of burned meat hung in the air. Where infection had once turned tissue yellow and white, there was now only bright red muscle shot through with soot and darkened epidermis.

“That…wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” Arya hissed and spat the gauze out. Her teeth were clenched and voice tight, but her movements were controlled, smooth, and betrayed no other indications that she was in pain. “I’m not looking forward to it if I need to do it again, though.”

Brom rubbed his face, a little paler than usual. “There’s something just…so much more disturbing about seeing you do it to yourself.”

“Dear Gods above, I HEARD IT ALL THE WAY OVER HERE!” Came a distraught groan from Murtagh’s sleeping bag. Arya snatched a stick from the pile next to the fire, abandoning the still-hot knife, and whipped it at the tucked form huddled in the bag. It pegged the young man exactly where his head should have been, and muffled swearing drifted through the camp before it dwindled off as he rolled over and tried his best to sleep.

Eragon scooted closer, forcing himself to swallow back his queasiness. “Here, can we….” Arya leaned her head back and nodded, eyes shut tight as heat lingered in the wound.

Reaching out a thicker tendril of his consciousness to Saphira, the young Rider met the mind of his dragon halfway. Their thoughts, consciousnesses, and minds twisted around each other, binding together more strongly than they usually did. Saphira’s energy flowed into Eragon, and he in turn shared some of his until the stream equaled out and they were one.

Together they moved Eragon’s hand out, the Gedwëy Ignasia shining bright, and uttered the words needed to heal the now cleansed burn. The icy magic rushed through their joined minds, knitting the skin back together with the ease of water flowing from one side of a creak to the next.

As they completed their task, Saphira pulled back from the increased contact, again leaving their minds connected by the usual tendrils of thought. Once separated, Saphira mentioned to Eragon, 'Your magic tickles.’ and rubbed her snout on the side of her foreleg.

'Does it? It always feels cold to me.’ Eragon sat back on his heels, checking the wound to make sure he had not left any scarring this time. Like the other times he and Saphira had worked magic while bound together, he only felt a slight drain on their combined strength. 'I know when something is healed on me it itches like crazy though. Is that what you’re feeling?’

'Being a conduit is different from both casting and being casted on. Acting as the in-between must be giving me the sensation of both the cold and the itching. It makes my scales tickle.’ As if to demonstrate her point, the scales at Saphira’s neck lifted slightly with a sound similar to dry leaves being whisked away by a strong wind. The scales rose and lowered in a ripple along her entire body, giving the distinct impression that she had shivered. 'So, how did we do?’

“Very well for such a simply worded spell.” Eragon realized that Saphira had projected her last thought to Arya and Brom as well when the elf answered. She tested the new skin, not at all bothered that they had not healed the bruising, and seemed happy with the results of their casting. “You’re quite adept at magic for knowing so few words in the Ancient Language, Eragon. From what I’ve seen, you have an uncanny ability to influence your spells more with your intentions than the words you use.”

Brom grunted, nodding in Eragon’s direction. The older man’s chest seemed to swell with pride at the praise directed at his pupil. “Aye, he’s got a gift. And Saphira carries it as well. I’ve never heard of a dragon acting as such a strong conduit before. You both are learning well.”

Touched, Eragon dipped his head as both he and Saphira answered the compliments. Any praise coming from Brom was few and far between, and now he was practically bragging to Arya about their progress.

A comfortable silence fell once again. Brom laid out his sleeping bag, surrendering his usual first watch to Arya at her insistence that 'old men need their rest,’ and Saphira lifted her head from where it rested to tuck it under the tip of her tail, settling in to sleep. Arya tugged her boots back on and reloaded her pistol. Eragon stayed by the fire with her for a few more minutes, content to be close to the elf for a little longer before he too retired for sleep.

“Oh! Right.” Arya suddenly looked over at him, a gleam in her dark eyes. He met her gaze, puzzled, then let out a yelp as her fist shot out and punched him in the arm twice. He knew it was probably a love tap for someone of elvish strength, but it still stung.

“Hey!” Eragon leaned away from her, rubbing his sore arm. It would definitely be bruised by the time he woke that night. “What was that for?”

The elf grinned, rising to her feet to stretch and take her place for the first watch. She slung her sword and its harness over one shoulder, and Eragon felt a hot blush blossom on his cheeks when she casually roughed up his hair as she stepped by him. “Two for flinching.”

[lasting-inkpressions]

I Put A Spell On You (Because You’re Mine) [1/11]

Summary: Denali is in love with her very much straight best friend, but a break up later and one drunken night together changes everything.

Note: It's a little spicier than what I've been writing, but I hope you'll enjoy it all the same. (:

Prefer reading it on AO3?

It had started with a tumble through the sheets one night.

Rosé had found out that her boyfriend of four years had been cheating on her for the past few months, having discovered his infidelity when she found him in their bed with his so called “work wife”. She had promptly moved out of their shared apartment, blocked all means of communication with him, and moved in with her best friend.

She had been lucky that Denali’s roommate had moved out weeks before, and that there was a now vacant bedroom for her to occupy while she tried to mend her broken heart. Rosé had spent the next few days in tears on the couch, watching reruns of Project Runway with Denali and eating her weight in Ben and Jerry’s. The younger girl had stayed by her side the entire time, cussing out her now ex with her when she was angry and holding her whenever she broke down into tears.

There was no one else Rosé would rather be with than Denali when she was feeling so broken and betrayed.

And then one night, Denali had managed to lure her out of the four walls of their shared apartment and to the opening of a new club, with promises of drinks, good music and dancing.

What they both hadn’t expected was to fall into bed together hours later.

They had returned home from the club well after midnight, buzzed and giggly from all the alcohol that they’d consumed. Denali had dragged a slightly more intoxicated Rosé to the couch and left her there as she went to fetch them both some water. The older one leaned back on the couch, a loopy smile on her face and was humming random snatches of song as she counted the faint cracks in the ceiling.

It felt so good to finally get out of the house and let loose, no longer cooped up inside pining after a lost love. She was finally making peace with the fact that her relationship was as good as gone, and that the man she had once loved was as good as dead to her.

“Here you go Rosie, water’s going do us a lot of good right about now.” Rosé looked up and saw Denali had returned, slightly swaying with a soft smile on her face, an open bottle of water in her hand. Taking it from her, the older girl drank thirstily from it, closing her eyes as she savoured the sweet taste of it washing away any last traces of bitter alcohol from her mouth. Opening her eyes, she watched as Denali untied her high ponytail and tossed the band to the side, shaking her hair loose and letting it fall around her, and suddenly Rosé felt her mouth go dry.

She blinked, entranced. She took in Denali’s form, from the red corset that hugged her ample chest to how the black pants stretched around her wide hips. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, but Rosé couldn’t stop staring at her, Denali’s feminine curves matched by the lightly toned muscles of her body, the waves of black hair, her warm brown eyes and soft kissable lips. They had known each other for so long, but for some reason, it felt as if this was the first time Rosé was really looking at her.

Denali was beautiful.

The girl in question threw her hair back and sat down at the other end of the couch, fanning herself in an attempt to cool down her heated skin. Looking over and clocking her, she reached for the bottle of water, but Rosé pulled it back playfully with a tipsy grin. Denali whined at her, causing Rosé to squirm as heat shot through her body at the sound.

“Come on, I’m thirsty.”

“Say please.” Denali rolled her eyes, but played along, clasping her hands beneath her chin and widening her eyes, pouting with a tilt of her head. “Pretty please, Rosie?”

Rosé stared at the younger girl for a beat, the heat in her middle spreading further down. She nodded numbly, poured some water in her mouth from the bottle as she stared at Denali’s full bottom lip, and set it on the coffee table. Before the other girl could say anything more, Rosé surged forward and latched her mouth onto Denali’s, giving her the water she had asked for, tongue sliding deliciously against hers a second after. Pulling away, she took in Denali’s dazed expression and wiped a stray drop from the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

“Was that enough for you, baby?”

Blinking for a moment, Denali bit her lip as she looked dazedly at her and slowly shook her head. Rosé smirked and retrieved the bottle of water, taking another swig. Setting the bottle aside again, she pushed Denali down on the couch and caged her with her arms. Taking in her blown pupils and the heavy rise and fall of her chest, Rosé leaned down and fed the water to Denali with her mouth. The moan that resounded from the girl beneath her went straight to her core, and once the water was gone, she deepened the kiss, one hand moving to cup her cheek. The sweet intoxicating scent of Denali surrounded her, the wet glide of their tongues, the press of the younger’s curves against her own causing her to groan as she started to grind against Denali’s thigh. The longer they kissed, the more desperate Rosé got, her hands moving to unlace Denali’s corset, tugging it off of her.

Sitting up and looking down, she admired how Denali’s cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, swollen lips slightly parted as she looked back up at Rosé before Denali registered that she was now topless. She tried to cover herself up with her hands but was stopped when Rosé grabbed her by the wrists and pressed them down, transfixed as she took in the breathtaking sight before her.

“Don’t hide from me, you’re beautiful.”

Denali gasped, blushing an even deeper red at her words. Rosé bent down, pressing a chaste kiss to the middle of her chest. Letting go of her wrists, Rosé moved to cup Denali’s breasts, thumbing both pink peaks as she peppered her chest with kisses, before finally pulling her right nipple into her mouth and sucking. Squealing, Denali gripped Rosé by the shoulders, unsure whether to push her away or to pull her closer, trembling as the older girl continued to suckle. Rosé pulled away with a soft pop before moving on to the other side, giving both mounds equal attention. She just couldn’t get enough and continued to suck bruises on Denali’s skin, soothing each one with her tongue as she marked her. Denali was a panting mess by the time Rosé was satisfied, admiring the constellation of love bites she’d left across Denali’s chest and a few stray ones up to her jaw. Rosé pressed a finger against a particularly dark bruise beneath her right collarbone and Denali hissed at the dull pain, squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to relieve her arousal. Her hips bucked up against Rosé’s with a whimper, too far gone from the onslaught of sensations to control her body anymore.

With barely a second thought, Rosé picked the other girl up, pulling Denali’s legs to wrap around her waist as she moved them to her bedroom.

———————

The sun light peeked through the blinds, highlighting the dust that floated around the room and casting a soft glow on the two figures curled up on the bed, one asleep and one stirring awake. Denali slowly opened her eyes, taking in the pastel pink sheets and the weight of a familiar arm around her waist. Swallowing, she registered how pleasantly sore her body was and the soft puffs of air at the back of her neck. She bit her lip and recalled the night before, her face heating as she relived each moment.

Rosé had been incessant with her ministrations throughout the night, from the constant kisses and love bites littered all over her body, particularly to her chest and thighs, to how she couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of her. She had been especially determined with pleasuring her, inciting moan after moan from her, teasing orgasm after orgasm from her body till Denali was sobbing. Even then, Rosé had only stopped to kiss away her tears before resuming her mission of wrecking Denali for anyone else.

It was everything that Denali had longed for and wanted for years.

Denali had been secretly in love with Rosé, attracted to the pink haired girl’s beauty, passion and heart. The only thing that had stopped her from doing anything was how she had been so obviously straight, with how she’d only ever been with boys and never once expressing any interest in girls. Pining after a girl she could not have, she had resigned to remaining best friends with her.

It wasn’t bad. She got to stay close to Rosé, was able to remain by her side and bask in her affections, even if they were only ever platonic. That was the thing with Rosé, she was a naturally affectionate person with how she’d carelessly call her baby or angel, playfully flirting with her like how she did with everyone else, looping their arms when they were together, the friendly hugs and kisses to the cheek. It was both pleasure and pain to be able to experience all that, and then witness Rosé oblivious to her feelings as she remained with her boyfriend all those years.

Her now ex-boyfriend.

When Rosé had turned up on her doorstep with her bags, tears running down her cheeks, Denali knew. She’d suspected for a while that he had been cheating on her, having seen him with another woman a few times, but had remained quiet about it, not wanting to burst Rosé’s bubble of happiness. When she had tried to confront Rosé’s ex-boyfriend, he had simply scoffed, a knowing look in his eye and as he threatened her, not even bothering to deny a thing. If she revealed to Rosé what she knew, then he would do the same and let Rosé know that Denali was in love with her. Who would Rosé believe then? The boyfriend that she’d been with all these years, or the jealous best friend that was in love with her? Denali had fearfully backed down then, not wanting to risk losing the one she loved. She had instead resolved to be there to pick up the pieces when he would inevitably screw up.

And screw up he did.

It had hurt her to see the woman she loved so broken, a shadow of her former self. Denali had tried her best to put her back together, had taken time off of work together with Rosé and stayed with her. A part of her felt guilty that she was happy that Rosé was no longer with him. Not that it would change anything.

Or so she thought.

Now here Denali lay in Rosé’s bed after a night with her, wrapped in her arms and covered in her marks. She looked down at the many bruises that littered her body and touched them gingerly with her fingers, a small smile blooming on her face at the fleeting thought that she was covered in Rosé’s marks.

But would Rosé remember? Would she even want to?

Feeling the smile slip from her face, Denali suddenly felt as if the air had been sucked out of her.

What if Rosé never wanted to see her again?

Feeling the girl behind her stir and turn around, retracting her arm, Denali stiffened, listening to hear if Rosé had woken up, but was relieved when she heard nothing but her even breathing.

Cautiously, Denali slipped out of bed, taking all articles of clothing that were hers before leaving the room, closing the door with a soft click.

Rosé awoke an hour later, blinking lazily. Rubbing her eyes, she looked down at her state of undress as she combed her fingers through her hair, trying to recall the night before. There were faint memories of kissing Denali, soft skin, thick thighs, her whimpering as Rosé-

She froze.

Rosé had fucked up.

———————

It had been three weeks since that fateful night, and Denali and Rosé had yet to acknowledge it, simply pretending that it had never happened. Denali ignored it out of fear that if Rosé remembered, she would be disgusted with her and leave while Rosé ignored it out of confusion, unsure of what had come over her.

It had been a little awkward the morning after at first, Rosé gingerly entering the kitchen and sitting at the countertop while Denali made coffee. When Rosé saw the state of Denali’s neck, the marks all over it and a stray one on her jaw, Rosé had asked who had given them to her, acting dumb. Denali played along, to both their reliefs, saying it had been a random girl at the club before they had left.

The first few days had been like walking on eggshells around each other, but eventually things went back to normal, or as normal as it could be for them. A part of Denali treasured the night that they had shared together, and had been sad when the marks had finally disappeared. Other than that, she’d made her peace with it and just counted it as a gift and resumed being her usual self.

Rosé on the other hand was having difficulty getting over it. Since then, she had started to see Denali in a different light. She had started noticing how truly beautiful the younger woman was, both inside and out. She already knew what a wonderful person she was, but now it was as if Rosé was more aware of Denali.

It was even more evident when they had gone to the boardwalk together one weekend. Denali had been bugging Rosé to give rollerskating a try, promising her that it was easier than ice skating. She had protested at first, but one flash of Denali’s wide eyes and pout, and the memory of kissing those very lips surfacing, and she had given in.

Their difference in level had been almost comical with how smoothly Denali could skate and how unstable Rosé was in her borrowed skates.

She had been gripping a lamp post, refusing to let it go and embarrass herself, and Denali had giggled at her antics. Skating up to her, she offered her arm and slowly guided her with steady hands, one around her waist and the other holding Rosé’s hand.

Rosé had unconsciously relished the indirect embrace, squeezing Denali’s hand gently every now and then as she guided her. She smelled faintly spicy and sweet, like sunshine and honey, something that was uniquely Denali. After skating for hours, Rosé sat on a bench, finally letting her legs have a break as she watched Denali skate around, twirling and weaving effortlessly between people and waving at the ones she knew, all smiles and dimples. She had even stopped when she saw a little boy struggling to skate and had helped him, gently guiding him and offering pointers before resuming her own skating.

Rosé rested her elbows on her thighs, chin in her hands as she observed the lines of Denali’s skating figure. The sun was starting to set, and she looked even more stunning against the backdrop of amber tinted clouds when she turned towards her, the wind in her hair and a soft smile on her face.

It was at that exact moment that Rosé realised that she might be falling for her best friend. She was dumbstruck when it hit her. She had never had feelings for another woman before, having only ever been attracted to the opposite sex. Her hands shook at the confusion in her. Rosé had no issues with same sex relationships, and she knew that Denali herself was attracted to women, but it felt different for her. It was a new development that she had to wrap her head around. Before she could think too hard on it, Denali had slowed to a stop before her, holding out her hand to pull Rosé up to guide her back home.

That very evening, with the two of them curled up on the couch watching a late night movie together, Rosé couldn’t stop looking over at Denali, at how the light from the television illuminated her face, the soft shadows dancing against the curve of her lips. Her very kissable lips. She swallowed hard. She wasn’t supposed to have these thoughts. It had been a one night affair, and Denali was her best friend.

But she just couldn’t get those images of Denali out of her head.

Denali spread out and naked on her sheets.

Denali thrashing beneath her in ecstasy as she coaxed another orgasm out of her.

Denali crying out her name as she kept edging her, savouring every whine and whimper that came out of her pretty mouth.

Denali as she curled up against her, soft and pliant and vulnerable.

Denali Denali Denali Denali.

She was becoming obsessed, like Denali was the water she needed to quench her never ending thirst.

And Rosé didn’t know what to do about it.

———————

This was originally going to be just a one shot, but I think it works better if it's split into two.

Anyways, the plot's mostly planned out and I've written the rest in snippets. I'll work on the second half and post it sometime this weekend. Just needed a short break from "Why not me?".

[anboringday]

A Date With Lenny | Part 3

Pairing: Lenny Summers x F!reader/OC

Summary: Lenny and his lover spends some quality time together in Valentine. Head over heels for one another, things get heated between the two rather quickly ;) 

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating: NSFW/Explicit

Read on ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Arms linked, Lenny and I sauntered out of the crowded saloon. It was a lively night in Valentine, a constant stream of interested visitors trotted through on horseback. Fellers loitered outside the stores, laughing and chatting boisterously. Penned pigs squealed, stray dogs panted in the heat, and chimes rung as doors opened. The noise and activity of the teeming little town was disorderly and loud, but not unpleasant. In fact, it was quaint. The people here were unfettered, spirited, and unapologetically free.  

Normally, I felt rather small and out of place in the company of strangers, but with Lenny beside me, all my silly fears and insecurities melted away. He escorted me through town in his black brushed cotton vest and matching trousers, his shirt and neckerchief both a pristine white. And god, he looked damn fine too, putting every other man in attendance to shame. Ever so often, the women that crossed our path would stare, sometimes tripping over their own feet as they took in his remarkably handsome face.

But he was all mine, and I made it known to the world by keeping my arm hooked possessively around his. Occasionally rubbing his strong shoulders. Stroking his toned biceps. He’d return the affection by showering my cheeks with tiny, playful kisses as we strolled aimlessly along Valentine’s dirt road. We had no destination in mind, no grand plans, or schedules to keep. We were simply enjoying each other’s company, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Cradling a flask of whiskey to his chest, Lenny took a swig. “See, the saloon wasn’t so bad, right? We ate a full course, top-notch quality meal in absolute peace, undisturbed—no bar fights, and only a few drunken bastards got rowdy and ruined the mood. Usually it’s much worse.”

“We have to keep a low profile,” I muttered. “We’re lucky no one recognized you.”

“Have you forgotten that I am the living embodiment of luck—” He tripped over a rock and tumbled clumsily, landing on his backside with a rough thud.

My heart skipped a beat. “Lenny!” I hovered over him. “Are you okay?”

With the cutest, goofy grin plastered to his face, he patted himself down for injuries. “No broken bones…I’ll live, I reckon.”  

His wide, bright smile was contagious. Holding the hem of my flowy skirt, I crouched to his level and surveyed him briefly. Besides being stricken with a bad case of the giggles, he seemed fine. “Of course, you’ll live. You have an obligation to keep breathing, Mr. Summers, ‘cause I wouldn’t last a day without you.”

“Is that so? I guess you’re stuck with me then…forever!” His arms enclosed around my waist, he tugged me to the ground playfully.

“Get off, you silly man!” With a hastily suppressed snicker, I squirmed about in his warm embrace. “Release me!”

“Nooo, you can’t get rid of me—not ever! You’re all mine. Just submit already, woman!” He attacked my cheeks with a frantic rush of kisses.

I smothered a chuckle from the sensation of his beard stubble brushing against my skin, but once he started tickling my sides, my voice rang up a scale and crackled hysterically. Whenever I tried to pull away, he’d draw me right back in, fragrantly fun, carefree, and mischievous despite the dozens of onlookers in our midst.

I tickled him back, and Lenny’s laughter was so jubilant, pure as the Heavens above, childish even despite his adulthood and masculinity. His mirth was like the summer sun and the stars at the peak of dawn. Whenever I heard it, no matter the time of day or weather, the world brightened.

Breathing in his tantalizing, uniquely familiar scent, I nuzzled my nose against his. “I love you.”

Stiffening abruptly, a rush of red stained his cheeks. His voice lowered, quiet and shy. “Hey, you’re making me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. There’s folks around—I’m not blushing, am I?”

“You are. It’s adorable.” I stood and extended a hand to him. “Now get up outta that dirt, silly.”

“C’mere, Sugar.” With a captivating smile, he lured me down to his level once again. He tipped his chin toward the sky. “Look at the stars, ain’t they pretty?”

Pinpoints of silver peeped in and out of the masses of gray clouds overhead. It was going to rain soon. I wiped the dust from my skirt. “You’re ruining my outfit, handsome.”

“What does it matter? I’m just gonna take it off you anyway.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, cowboy.”

Music blared from the nearby saloon, a live performance it sounded like. There was clapping and cheering, a soulful feminine voice filled the air, blending in elegantly with the strum of stringed instruments.

Lenny’s brows shot up. “You hear that?”

I nodded. “It sounds lovely.”

He tossed his whiskey aside and rose, lifting me along with him. Taking my hand in his, he preformed a courtly bow, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “My lady, may I have this dance?”

“Dance?” My face heated at the proposal. “H-here?”

“Right here, right now.”

Filled with embarrassed discomfort, I lowered my head. “There’s an awful lot of people around, Lenny.”

“Don’t be scared. We’re in this together. Just focus on me, okay?”

Arms encircling my waist, he anchored me against him, swaying to the music. I was tense and on edge at first, I’ve never danced in public. Let alone in the center of town where just about every neighboring feller, woman, loyal steed, and child could take a gander.

But once his hazel gaze found mine, our bustling surroundings melted away. Hypnotized by the shimmering sparks of gold in the depths of his eyes, all I could see was him. The way his lean body glided with effortless rhythm and fluidity. How his muscles flexed and rippled with every slight movement beneath his shirt. Following his gentle motion, my arms slid around his neck. He was my world, and the moment was ours.

“We coulda done this in the saloon, you know,” I said.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “I know going to that saloon in particular was my idea, but uh, honestly…I didn’t feel comfortable in there.”

“Why? Did one of those drunkards do something? Say something? I swear, if there are any inbred yokels around here, you just point me in their direction—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Every fella in there was eyeballing you. It ain’t no crime to look but…” His voice trailed off.

I frowned. “I didn’t notice anyone was staring, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for being the prettiest girl in town. You got all the women in the West green with envy and the fellas? They salivate over you like a pack of rabid dogs after a bone. And regardless of all that, you chose me. Feels like a dream. The best damn dream.” He dipped me back and kissed my temple. I held onto him as his full lips drifted to my neck, brushing over my sensitive skin. I closed my eyes on a moan when he caught the lobe of my ear between his teeth, the spontaneity of it all warmed my heart, and awakened a fierce ache between my legs.

With he straightened me, I was near breathless and dizzy. There was an applause, and whistling coming from over my shoulder. Lenny’s grasp on me was strong and clinging, as if I could slip through his fingers at any given moment. “You’re mine, I’m yours, and now everybody knows it.”

I flushed, perversely flattered and delighted by his possessiveness. “You know, this isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘keeping a low profile’,” I whispered.

“So, about that…” He grinned sheepishly, a boyish smile so cutely at odds with the wiry, solid sexuality of his body. “I ain’t the best at laying low, never have been. Everywhere I go, something or somebody starts kickin’ up a fuss and I get dragged into it. For example, some fool gets robbed—by no fault of mine, might I add—then that same fool gets brave and winds up with a bullet in his gut. And of course, being the law-abiding citizen that I very much am, I got no choice but to intervene.”

I smiled. “So, all this time you’ve been playing the hero? Everything the lawmen said about you was a lie?”

“The law ain’t never been fair or smart.”

“That much is true.” The sky rumbled, and the clouds began to shed some heavy droplets of rain. Folks began to retreat indoors, while a select few preferred to take shelter under the general store awnings.

“Well, there goes our audience,” Lenny said. “A real shame, too. I was getting used to the limelight.” He took off his brown leather cowboy hat and gave it to me. “Here, Sugar. For your hair.”

“Thank you.” I nuzzled my face to his chest. “We should go. The storm is only going to get worse.”

Seemingly unbothered by the rain, he tilted my chin up and settled his mouth on mine. A rush of warmth flowed through me, the soft sweetness of his kiss weakened my knees. Gradually, the pressure of his lips increased, and I surrendered myself to him. His tongue stroked slow and tenderly over mine. Our connection was wildly passionate and undeniable. I was so absorbed by him, possessed by his sweet love, I hardly noticed the drizzle running down our faces to where our lips connected. The cold rain mingled with the uniquely wonderful taste of him.

The working of his mouth against mine made me hot. Restless. I pushed a hand into his gloriously damp hair and sucked on the bottom of his lip, tracing my tongue over its perfect fullness, nibbling, gently pulling…

The sound of his groan was so satisfyingly deep and erotic, my core throbbed, uncomfortably wet. Lenny broke the kiss, his chest heaving. “Damn…what are you doing to me?”

I smiled innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gripping my hips, he crushed me to him, the impressive package between his legs brushed my thigh. “I…I-I need to be inside you,” he confessed with some difficulty. “I’m aching.”

Moved by the extent of his longing, I stood on the tip of my toes and reclaimed his lips, my palms sliding all over his lethally sexy body. We were drenched in the chilly, pouring rain, but not even the forces of nature could keep my hands off him. “There’s a hotel next door,” I said between kisses.

Lenny nodded an assent and lifted me off my feet, my legs hooked around his waist. He carried me across the road and through the hotel’s swinging doors. The lobby was empty.

“I’ll be just a minute!” a voice I presumed to be the receptionist called out from down the hall.

Still holding me in his powerful arms, Lenny leaned against the front desk as we made out with reckless abandon. The soul-reaching massage of his lips sent shivers rippling up my spine. Raising my skirt a fraction, his hips started moving, the hard length of his cock grinding sinfully against me through the confides of his pants. Oh, god…a deep hunger stirred inside me. I had to have him—all of him—and it had to be soon. Or else I’d go crazy.

I held onto him for dear life, trembling from the hot, delicious friction. I didn’t care who was watching. I was way past the point of shyness, the primal desire to be fucked by this beautiful outlaw was at the forefront of my mind. It was all that mattered.

My skin burning hot and flustered, I whimpered. “I want you, Lenny.”

Muscles tense and visibly shaking with lust, he uttered huskily, “Fuck, I want—I need you.”

I buried my face in the crook of his corded neck, ravaging his skin with love bites and licks. “How bad do you need me?”

“Real bad. More than anything. I’ll beg if I got to. I’ll plead. I’ll get on my damn knees right now.” He swallowed deep, his expression tight and eyes smoldering. “If we don’t get a key soon, I might just bend you over this desk and fuck you right here.”

I trembled. It sounded like a threat as much as a promise, the scorching intensity of his words so unlike him. He was losing his composure, the desire stripping away his inhibitions and calm, sweet-tempered mannerisms. Only I could do this to him. It was a major turn-on and confidence boost.

“Here I am!” the receptionist finally arrived, scrambling into his rightful place behind the desk. His presence was a blur, I was too preoccupied enjoying the softness of Lenny’s lips. I could probably come like this, just by kissing him if we went at it long enough.

“Good Lord Almighty!” the receptionist gaped at us. “You kids need a room immediately! Luckily for you, we have one available. Just one. It’s been a big night for tourism, with that band of fancy folk from Saint Denis parading through town, playing their music and causing a ruckus. I don’t understand how anyone can get anything done with all that darn noise and commotion—”

Lenny shoved a hand into his satchel and flung a couple dollars at the chatty receptionist. It stopped his ranting, thank goodness.

“Second floor, first room on your right.” Once he passed over the key, Lenny whisked me upstairs. Heedless of everything and everyone, our hot, lingering kisses didn’t break as he fumbled with the lock. A moment later, the door opened, and we were inside a dimly lit room bathed in candlelight, rain softly drummed against the windowpanes.

Lenny dropped me on the bed. I reached for his vest and ripped it open, the buttons scattered across the hardwood floor. “Get naked, cowboy.”

He laughed, shrugging out of his shirt and suspenders, and then unbuckling his gun belt. I ran my hand down his chest in awe. His deep brown skin illuminated by the warm, flickering light, he glowed like flames piercing the darkness, radiant with transcendental beauty and mystery. I wanted him so bad, it hurt.

I nuzzled my face against the solid ridges of his damp, god-like abdomen. “Christ, why are you so perfect?”

“Perfect?” He pinched my cheek playfully. “Aw, you really think so? Arthur told me the same thing once, but he was drunk and vomiting in a pig pen outside the saloon when he said it—”

“Lenny…” Grinning, I swatted his hand off my cheek. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Flashing an apologetic smile, he tossed aside the wet hat on my head and helped me out my clothes with gentle finesse. I went for his zipper, freeing his thick cock. My mouth watered. He was rock-hard, and throbbing. I traced the flat of my tongue along the heavy veins coursing his length, slow and worshipfully.  

He fisted my hair, restraining me just before I took him into my mouth. “Nuh-uh, Sugar. That can wait. Lay down.”

My brows raised. Apparently, Lenny was in charge tonight. I obeyed, curious of what he had in store.

The heat and clean, woodsy scent of his body took my breath away once he came down on me. “You’re beautiful.” He plumped one breast in his hand, kissing my neck, his lips grazing back and forth over my tender, flustered skin. I squirmed from the heady sensation. My legs locked around his hips, silently urging him to make love to me already. Near mindless with need, I struggled to find my voice, to formulate words. All that slipped from my throat was tiny, helpless whimpering.

He took himself in his hand and stroked my slick entrance, the soft nudges of his cock head agonizingly teasing. I arched my hips, my body straining toward him, desperate for a connection. He was making me wait, avoiding my clit and somehow resisting the temptation of fucking me despite my pleading.

“Lenny, please. What are you waiting for?”

“Hush now,” he said. “You’ll be ready for me soon.”

“I’ve been ready for you for the longest. Since this morning.”

He nipped my neck, sucking feverishly. Surely leaving a mark behind. Inflamed and trembling in distress, I rolled my hips against the rigid column of flesh he so cruelly teased me with. Patiently, he coaxed me to the brink of insanity. I was soaked in my own wetness, creaming madly for the feel of him inside me.

Raking my nails across his back, I pulled him closer. I needed him to fuck me more than I needed my next breath. “Now,” I gasped. “Need you now.”

With an expert shift of his hips, he pushed into me hard, and so pleasantly deep.

“Oh, God, yes,” I moaned, shuddering, clenching around him. Finally. Warmth struck my heart. I’ve been waiting for this for so long, too long—

“Don’t come,” he murmured, his palms slipped under my hips and cupped my behind, squeezing.

“Excuse me?” I was so close to the edge already. How the hell did he expect me not to go off?

“Good things come to those who wait. It feels so much better in the end.” Lenny started to move, his thrusts lazy and tortuously slow. “Can you do that for me, Sugar? Can you make it last?”

The cadence of his soft-spoken, drawling words sounded so sweet in my ears, so delicate. A fierce ache struck my chest. I was hopelessly in love with him, and more than willing to submit to his every need and request.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled, my vision blurred with tears. “You have no idea how good you feel inside me.”

“Trust me, I-I do.” Lenny’s leisurely rhythm came to an abrupt halt, his body shivered violently. Jaw clenched, a groan slipped through his lips, tension contorted the gorgeous features of his face. Holding back seemed to be affecting him as well.

Quickly regaining his poise, he resumed screwing me. Lenny knew my body so well, all the tender spots that demanded attention and how precisely to stroke them. It was all muscle memory to him at this point. Over and over, his cock rubbed the bundle of quivering nerves clenching, aching for his touch.

Gripping the sheets with white-knuckled force, I smothered an upsurge of sobs, thrashing against the overwhelming need to climax. I was burning from the inside out, our bodies sticky with sweat. Trembling uncontrollably, I couldn’t hold back for much longer…

“Don’t come,” Lenny repeated. “Make this last. Just hold on.”

“I c-can’t. It feels amazing. Jesus, Lenny…” Tears escaped my eyes. I was falling apart, utterly and irreversibly lost in him. “I love you. I-I love you so, so much…”

He kissed away the tear tracks on my face. “Hold me. Don’t you let go.”

I released the covers and clung to him. His heavy-lidded gaze snagged with mine, searing into me. He sighed heavily, from pleasure, tension, or both—I couldn’t tell. His hips still surging at a moderate, deliberately restrained tempo that was driving senseless, I blurted, “Slow down. Please. I’ll come if you don’t slow down.”

“Will you now?” A wicked smile pulled at his lips. “I thought you wanted to come, Sugar. Why the change of heart?”

My back arched as his hold on my behind grew bruising. He lifted my hips into his thrusts, and I cried out, my core boiling and tightening with a pressure so severe, I feared I’d snap in two if I didn’t give into my bodily cravings soon.

“I won’t come,” I panted. “Not—not until y-you say so.”

His hazel eyes softened, sympathetic almost as he watched me quiver helplessly beneath him. One hand clasping the side of my face, he kissed me with a heartrending tenderness, his tongue caressing mine. Yes.

“Come for me,” he fucked me harder, dominating my body, although his voice was honeysweet against my lips. “I need to feel you…”

With his permission, an orgasm erupted inside me like a volcano, molten pleasure spreading from my core and overcoming the entirety of my body in a scorching wave. It was remarkable. Explosive. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I let out a shrill cry, writhing under Lenny’s sweat-slick muscles. His name spewed repeatedly from my lips as he fucked me into blissful oblivion.

The climax surged on and on. I was melting, drowning in the immense ecstasy of being loved by him, pleased by him. He was my everything, and without him I was empty and hollow. I could die in his arms right now and regret not a thing, because I’ve never truly lived a day until I met him.  

The connection we shared was incredibly intense, inside and outside the bedroom. But when we were making love like this, intimately linked, giving and receiving pleasure from one another like our lives depended on it…our bond felt unbreakable. It was frightening how deeply I adored him—an outlaw. A man the law wanted strung up by a noose…

A muscle twitching in his jaw, he rode out my climax until the clenches faded; then he slowed down his pace, burying himself inside me languidly. He sucked in a harsh breath, eyes dark and dilated, his strong body convulsed furiously. He was teetering on the edge of an orgasm, still denying himself the pleasure he’s been working toward all night long. The glaring self-control and perseverance Lenny emanated was something to be envied.

I gathered his hair in my hands, kissing the side of his damp throat. “You’re shaking, handsome. Do I feel that good?”

“Yes,” he rasped, pounding into me erratically, his balls slapping against the curve of my behind. “Oh shit, yes.”

A bead of sweat dripped from his chin onto the corner of my lip. I slid my tongue along his sculpted jawline, collecting the saltiness with a soft murmur of satisfaction. He tasted so good, and the scent of his lust smelled even better.

“Why don’t you come inside me, cowboy?” I teased, my voice husky. “You know you want to.”

He clasped the nape of my neck, his gaze burned into mine. “Do you want me to?”

I had just as much control over his body as he did mine and I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Lenny. Come.”

With a serrated groan, his beautiful cock jerked, spurting hotly, flooding me with his heat. His hips ground against mine, he emptied his load as deeply as he could inside me. I don’t know how long we laid there holding each other, spent and panting. Eventually, our breathing steadied and our bodies cooled.

“Leonard Summers!” a rugged voice shouted from outside, piercing the calm serenity of the rain. “We know you’re in here! Give yourself up, boy, there ain’t nowhere left to run!”

Lenny shot up from the bed.

Still wrapped up in a sex-induced daze, my brain struggled to comprehend what the hell was happening. Lazily, I sat up, covering my exposed breasts with the sheets. “What’s going on?”

Lenny inched to the window and glanced furtively though the blinds. “Lawmen,” he winced. “A lot of ‘em.”

I shivered, my heartbeat sped up. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was, Sugar. Maybe you were right—coming ‘round here was, in fact, a real bad idea.” His teeth gleamed in a lopsided smile, confident and reassuring despite our unfortunate circumstances. “So, uh…you know how to handle a gun, right?”

My eyes widened. Oh no…

[weirdponytail]

Modern Inheritance: Two for Flinching

(A/N: Some wound description and technically self harm? {wound burning for infection control}, so warnings for that. Just some Eragon and co. during the run to the Varden. This one actually has a bit more setup for Eragon’s book 1/early book 2 characterization, but I’m not sure how I did. He’s hard for me to write. There’s also quite a few mentions of tech and magic mechanics that I’ve worked into MIC, but those will be mentioned more in the tags.)

~~~

Eragon winced as Saphira landed. Per their usual travel plans since Gil'ead and Arya's awakening he had spent the night flying with Saphira while the others traveled at a continued breakneck pace on the ground with the horses. It was wearing them all down, even Saphira, and the few hours of sleep they managed to get during the daylight hours did little to alleviate the stress travel was putting on their bodies.

Camp was already in the midst of being set as Eragon untied his legs from the saddle and slid down Saphira's side. He landed then grimaced as he fell to his knees, muscles feeling like jelly.

"Did you see anything worth mentioning?" Brom asked as the young Rider pushed himself up. When he shook his head, not trusting himself to speak aloud, the older man grunted and turned back to unsaddling Snowfire. "There's supposed to be some old, ruined staging points of the Varden's around here. Must be further up ahead. We're going slower than I thought."

"We're going as fast as we can." Murtagh snapped. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. Lately Eragon had noticed that the other youth was becoming increasingly agitated, quick to anger, and it wasn't just the lack of sleep and lingering sunburn getting to him."If you want to warn the Varden so bad, do some of your little magic tricks and tell them about the Urgals."

Arya spoke quickly from where she crouched coaxing the fire to life, cutting off Brom's scathing retort and ending the argument before it began. "It doesn't exactly work like that. Besides, the Varden has specific wards around their strongholds, preventing scrying and other magical forms of communication."

Eragon eased himself down next to the elf, trying to warm fingers stiff from flying so high in the chill clouds. "Then how do they stay in contact with you and anyone else outside their hiding spots? It seems dangerous to be so isolated."

The woman gently rearranged a few sticks to give the young flames more air and slipped a dark object under the growing pile of embers. "Special radios were developed, using the fingerprint technology similar to lock on my backpack. Mine was destroyed when Durza tried to operate it himself." She cracked a slight grin, still focused on her task. "Well, actually, it blew up in his face. Brain matter, just everywhere. Huh-hoo, he was pissed when he got back."

"The Varden rigs them to explode if the person's fingerprint doesn't match?!" Eragon recoiled slightly, agast. "What if someone's kid found it and thought it was a toy?"

Off to the side, Brom snorted, muttering, "I bet it wasn't the Varden who–"

"No, I rigged it up myself, and only for those who bore ill-will to the Varden and free races in case it fell into the wrong hands."

"Knew it." Brom scoffed. Arya looked over her shoulder to the old Rider and rolled her eyes. "You just like seeing things explode."

"Yeah, well, I don't think I've laughed so hard in years than when that thing went off. I think I even cracked a rib."

Brom shook his head, but let the matter go.

It wasn't long before the fire was high and the day's meal heated. They sat around the burning logs, Saphira even laying her head down to occupy a third of the circle, and planned the next few legs of travel. When the food was eaten, the talk dwindled away as they all sat staring into the flames, tired but not willing to sleep just yet.

Then Saphira flicked out her tongue, as if tasting the air, and projected her thoughts to the group.

'Whoever has the infected wound should care for it soon.' Everyone looked up, mildly startled out of their inner musings. 'It will turn into a deep-rot in another day or so. Just thought they should know.'

"You can smell things like that?" Eragon asked, surprised. "Are you like one of those dogs that can smell cancer?"

The dragon cut her eyes at him and her lip lifted slightly. 'I am nothing like a dog.'

The boy smiled apologetically, realizing his mistake. "I know. Sorry. But it's pretty cool being able to smell things like that."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "Aye, it's cool. But shouldn't we be more focused on who the hell was hiding a possibly necrotic wound? Things like that need to be addressed. It would only slow us down more."

Then a ringing SMACK! broke through the air as Brom suddenly slapped Arya upside the head. Hard.

"What the hell were you thinking, girl?" He growled, expression dark.

"Ow! Hey, why the fuck do you think it's me?!" The elf retorted sharply, rubbing the back of her head and glaring back at him.

Everyone, even Saphira, gave the woman a deadpan look that clearly asked 'really?'

She put her hands up. "Alright, alright, so yeah, maybe a cut or two got infected, but I'm already fixing them, okay?" Arya snarled, pointing at the handle of a knife sticking out of the dying fire's thick pile of coals.

Silence fell.

"Are you sure that is the best idea?" Brom asked slowly. He seemed to have calmed down a bit now that Arya had revealed having an actual plan and wasn't just ignoring her injuries. His change in tone made Eragon wonder if the latter was a common occurrence. "There's always magic. You don't have to–"

"And who, exactly, would cast it, hm? Eragon? Can you instruct him in the intricacies of infection cleansing within the next few minutes? I've still got enough drug in me to complicate healing spells, so that's out of the question. And I'll not have you working spells on me, not when the Varden will need you at your best." Arya shook her head. "No, it will have to be burned."

Murtagh stood at the mention of burning. "Oh, bloody hell. Not right after we ate!" He retreated to where he had tossed his saddlebags and began unrolling his sleeping bag. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again– you're bloody insane, Arya. I don't want to see this. I'm going to sleep."

"Sweet dreams, Murtagh." The elf called after him in a singsong voice. "Don't let the sizzling wake you up!" The young man let out a noise of disgust and threw himself on the blankets. "Wuss."

'She can't be serious about this!' Eragon exclaimed to Saphira, worried about the elf who was unlacing her boots as calmly as a praying monk. 'She's already hurt enough! We should offer to heal it. I know she shot Brom down, but–'

Saphira cut him off. 'Little one, do you honestly think that we know enough about healing to cleanse even a scratch of infection without making it worse? Brom has explained before that waíse heill has its limitations, one of the most dangerous being that if it closes an infected injury the infection will survive beneath the skin.' Eragon grimaced, cursing himself for nearly forgetting one of the nuances of the spell. 'Once the infected flesh is burned away, thenwe can attempt to heal it for Arya.'

Her logic was sound. 'I still don't like it. But you're right.'

The dragon sniffed, a short puff of smoke dissipating into the air above her nostrils. 'Of course I am.'

Eragon grinned, then turned his attention back to where Brom and Arya still sat by the fire as the older Rider grunted, "That looks like it hurt. You're lucky it didn't break." The boy approached them as Arya finished rolling her pant leg up to her knee.

"Perks of elvish bones, I guess." Arya muttered, gently testing the skin around the injury. On the outside of her left calf was a nasty, scraping gash, most likely left by the sharp edge of a hobnailed boot if the bruising pattern was anything to go by. The skin around the ragged edges was pink and red, and cracks ran through the roughly palm sized scab covering the cut and revealing damp, yellowish flesh beneath. Pinkish, yellow tinged fluid leaked from the cracks. "Damn. At least it isn't necrotic. You were right, Saphira. This one is about to turn." The elf flashed a thankful smile to the dragon. "Hell, you might have just saved my leg."

'You're quite welcome.'

Eragon winced when he saw the wound. "After you, uh…burn it, I can close it for you. A burn isn't too hard to heal, and it would keep it from getting infected again and slowing you down."

For a for a split second the memory of healing the elf's back jumped to the forefront of his mind. Not images of the horrifying wounds, but of warm skin, lean muscle and an unmistakably feminine body. Eragon felt the tips of his tapering ears turn bright red, and he quickly stuck his hands in his pockets, pinching himself hard through the fabric. It was definitely not the time for those kinds of thoughts.

He was thankful, then, that Arya looked over to Brom after giving him only a quick glance. "What do you think, old man? I can keep up well enough. Wouldn't mind a little less risk of that changing though."

Brom crossed his arms. "It's up to the boy and Saphira. Do you two think you can handle it?"

Eragon nodded firmly. "I'm sure I can. Definitely if Saphira helps. I really don't mind it, and it's the least I can do after being unable to heal the rest of your wounds properly."

"Hey, you and Saphira don't owe me anything. You saved my life in probably three different ways so far, so I'm the one that owes you all." Arya pulled a field medkit from her bag and tore off two short wads of gauze from a roll. "If you both want to heal it and it won't put either of you in danger, I won't complain. It won't be the last time I say it, but thank you. Really."

Eragon smiled, a strange warmth bubbling in his heart at the elf's expression of gratitude. In the back of his mind he sensed Saphira examining his emotions, and was a little confused when the dragon mentally chuckled at them. "You're welcome. I like to help where I can."

"Mm. Let's get this over with then." Without further ado Arya pulled the knife from the coals.

It was an old blade of human make, and by the seal stamped on the handle Eragon recognized it as one of the combat knives he had grabbed from a soldier during their mad escape from Gil'ead. In the light of the midmorning sun it was difficult to judge if the metal was glowing fiercely, but the blade had acquired a unmistakeable, faint orange color at the sides and an inch down the tip. At the thicker sections it seemed to be lit on the inside by a deep, dark cherry red glow.

Arya took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and went to stick the wad of gauze in her mouth as she lowered the hot blade towards her leg. Brom's hand suddenly settled on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, startled out of her grim task.

"Do you want me to do it?" The old Rider's voice was surprisingly gentle, soft even. In the months he had traveled with him, Eragon had heard him speak in such a tone only a handful of times, mostly murmured under his breath to himself or to Jeod when talking about the Varden and times past. Despite their rough banter, Eragon realized the Brom and Arya were undoubtedly good friends, to the point that he wondered if the two had fought together on the battlefield.

Arya looked between Brom and the knife for a moment, then sighed, "You might have to if I flinch and can't keep up the pressure. I want to try it myself first, but thanks for having my back." Brom nodded and pulled his hand back as the elf bit down on the gauze.

Then, without any other warning, she tore her nails across the gash in her leg, ripping away the disintegrating scab, and shoved the flat of the glowing knife into the now open wound.

Eragon jerked back, flinching as his self preservation instinct screamed at the indecency of blatant self-destruction. It wasn't the visual that disturbed him, but the sound of the metal burning away first the blood and fluids, and then the infected flesh beneath. It hissed and sizzled, and occasionally sounded like the powerful magnet toys he used to buy at the fair and toss in the air hear their buzzing song.

For a moment Arya's muscles snapped rigid, then she seemed to recover and her face fell into a blank, emotionless mask. After letting the blade rest in its original spot for several long seconds she lifted it and exposed the two remaining sections of the gash to the heat, quickly wiping the knife on the other piece of gauze between each burning. Eragon's stomach did a sickening maneuver similar to a double full flip he had witnessed Katrina do at one of her gymnastics presentations with Roran when he realized that she was wiping seared flesh off the blade.

Then it was over. The entire procedure couldn't have taken more than a minute, but the scent of burned meat hung in the air. Where infection had once turned tissue yellow and white, there was now only bright red muscle shot through with soot and darkened epidermis.

"That...wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." Arya hissed and spat the gauze out. Her teeth were clenched and voice tight, but her movements were controlled, smooth, and betrayed no other indications that she was in pain. "I'm not looking forward to it if I need to do it again, though."

Brom rubbed his face, a little paler than usual. "There's something just…so much more disturbing about seeing you do it to yourself."

"Dear Gods above, I HEARD IT ALL THE WAY OVER HERE!" Came a distraught groan from Murtagh's sleeping bag. Arya snatched a stick from the pile next to the fire, abandoning the still-hot knife, and whipped it at the tucked form huddled in the bag. It pegged the young man exactly where his head should have been, and muffled swearing drifted through the camp before it dwindled off as he rolled over and tried his best to sleep.

Eragon scooted closer, forcing himself to swallow back his queasiness. "Here, can we…." Arya leaned her head back and nodded, eyes shut tight as heat lingered in the wound.

Reaching out a thicker tendril of his consciousness to Saphira, the young Rider met the mind of his dragon halfway. Their thoughts, consciousnesses, and minds twisted around each other, binding together more strongly than they usually did. Saphira's energy flowed into Eragon, and he in turn shared some of his until the stream equaled out and they were one.

Together they moved Eragon's hand out, the Gedwëy Ignasia shining bright, and uttered the words needed to heal the now cleansed burn. The icy magic rushed through their joined minds, knitting the skin back together with the ease of water flowing from one side of a creak to the next.

As they completed their task, Saphira pulled back from the increased contact, again leaving their minds connected by the usual tendrils of thought. Once separated, Saphira mentioned to Eragon, 'Your magic tickles.' and rubbed her snout on the side of her foreleg.

'Does it? It always feels cold to me.' Eragon sat back on his heels, checking the wound to make sure he had not left any scarring this time. Like the other times he and Saphira had worked magic while bound together, he only felt a slight drain on their combined strength. 'I know when something is healed on me it itches like crazy though. Is that what you're feeling?'

'Being a conduit is different from both casting and being casted on. Acting as the in-between must be giving me the sensation of both the cold and the itching. It makes my scales tickle.' As if to demonstrate her point, the scales at Saphira's neck lifted slightly with a sound similar to dry leaves being whisked away by a strong wind. The scales rose and lowered in a ripple along her entire body, giving the distinct impression that she had shivered. 'So, how did we do?'

"Very well for such a simply worded spell." Eragon realized that Saphira had projected her last thought to Arya and Brom as well when the elf answered. She tested the new skin, not at all bothered that they had not healed the bruising, and seemed happy with the results of their casting. "You're quite adept at magic for knowing so few words in the Ancient Language, Eragon. From what I've seen, you have an uncanny ability to influence your spells more with your intentions than the words you use."

Brom grunted, nodding in Eragon's direction. The older man's chest seemed to swell with pride at the praise directed at his pupil. "Aye, he's got a gift. And Saphira carries it as well. I've never heard of a dragon acting as such a strong conduit before. You both are learning well."

Touched, Eragon dipped his head as both he and Saphira answered the compliments. Any praise coming from Brom was few and far between, and now he was practically bragging to Arya about their progress.

A comfortable silence fell once again. Brom laid out his sleeping bag, surrendering his usual first watch to Arya at her insistence that 'old men need their rest,' and Saphira lifted her head from where it rested to tuck it under the tip of her tail, settling in to sleep. Arya tugged her boots back on and reloaded her pistol. Eragon stayed by the fire with her for a few more minutes, content to be close to the elf for a little longer before he too retired for sleep.

"Oh! Right." Arya suddenly looked over at him, a gleam in her dark eyes. He met her gaze, puzzled, then let out a yelp as her fist shot out and punched him in the arm twice. He knew it was probably a love tap for someone of elvish strength, but it still stung.

"Hey!" Eragon leaned away from her, rubbing his sore arm. It would definitely be bruised by the time he woke that night. "What was that for?"

The elf grinned, rising to her feet to stretch and take her place for the first watch. She slung her sword and its harness over one shoulder, and Eragon felt a hot blush blossom on his cheeks when she casually roughed up his hair as she stepped by him. "Two for flinching."

[artificialqueens]

Bring It On (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: Branjie lesbian high school au inspired by the cinematic masterpiece that is the Bring It On franchise. Multi chapter. Brooke, a sophisticated and hard-working high school ballet dancer’s world is thrown upside down where she’s forced to move to the other side of the continent. Longing to express herself in any way she can Brooke turns to her new school’s cheer squad despite her off-kilter relationship with her new schools head cheerleader… ps: I haven’t written fanfiction in 2 years and know this isn’t great but I had the idea and needed to execute. I realise there is an overload of branjie at the minute and mine probably isn’t up to par but I’m having fun writing it! Drink every time there is a cliche… you’ll be mortal by the end of this chapter don’t you worry.

TW: alcohol, homophobic slur

21 hours. Brooke spent a deceptive 21 hours in the car with her parents saying goodbye to the bright city lights of Toronto and hello to the jungle of Tampa Heights. It seemed like such a long time to be on the road but when 17 years of ballet, boys, friends and family was being torn away – 21 hours seemed like nothing. Training every single day till she finally broke through with being cast as Odette and it was gone in less than one. Brooke’s blood, sweat and tears were suddenly and swiftly wiped away – all gone without a trace. Yes, Brooke could start training again in Florida but it wouldn’t be the same; she’d have slipped right down the bottom of the ladder with not a hand to pull her up. The thought of dancing anywhere but her studio left Brooke with an uncomfortable feeling- guilt? Longingness? Maybe it was just that darker voice telling her that there were always better things happening that she was not a part of. The same voice that she tried to shut out the next day as she made her way to her first lesson at R.A Charles High and scanned the room for a place to sit.

Brooke was the type of person whose cogs were always turning. She didn’t need to come into a room guns blazing. She took deep breaths, she observed, she catalogued and she always came off as pristine. That’s why the clean-cut prima ballerina surprised herself when she stood at the back of the class – the unfamiliar environment closing in on her – with not a thought about composure crossing her mind. Throwing herself into the closest seat she could, Brooke looked to her left to see one of the most visually intriguing people she had ever come across in her life. With heavy eyes, a protruding brow and a shaved head, the boy was a strange mix of breathtaking and frightening. Fascinated by his prominent features and the way in which his lips moved, it took Brooke a few moments to realise the boy was talking to her.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” She asked, her confidence once again faltering and finding herself questioning every pause, emphasis and even her own accent in the simple five-word sentence.

“I said I’m Jovan, you must be new.”

“That obvious?” Brooke smiled whilst belittling herself on the inside.

“No existing student here would sit with me” the boy let out a hearty laughed that Brooke wanted to catch and keep in a jar forever.

The utter antithesis of her friends back in Toronto, Brooke’s mind dabbled across the thought that two days ago she wouldn’t have even spoken to the boy. Nevertheless, this was a fresh start, the boy seemed nice and this Brooke wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of a potential friend to show her about - apparently she had a lot of catching up to do. Hence her reason for accepting the invite to watch a film at Jovan’s house later that night despite the lack of similarities in their lifestyles. This lack of similarity between the two friends being outlined clearly when it got to lunch time and Brooke asked Jovan if the school had any dance teams or facilities; resulting in the return of the hearty laugh she’d met earlier.

“I guess you could say we do,” Jovan rolled his eyes, “Come see for yourself”.

Making their way into the cafeteria it was already evident to Brooke who Jovan was going to show her, a gaggle of girls clad in tight blue cheer uniforms. Skirts short. Pony’s high. Legs lotioned to perfection - this was the first time Brooke lay eyes on the Amazons. Before she could fully take them in they were already up on the table performing for the school- not an eye glancing anywhere but the three girls.

“My names big Silky, yeah, get out my face, cause when I shake it, it’s like a hurricane.”

The three clicked their hands and stomped their feet so in sync they commanded everyone’s attention - especially Brooke’s.

“My names Akeria, yeah, you use three wishes, you see me shake it, cause I’m delicious”’

Though both pretty and commanding- it was immediately clear to Brooke who the leader of the trio was. Her dark hair was tied back in a pony showing off her strong bone structure and deep brown eyes. A few strands of hair falling out of place to frame her face just perfectly. She was a butterfly emerging from the group, simultaneously dark and feminine. The royal blue of the uniform impeccably matched her skin tone; the girl exuded a sense of confidence, significance, importance. A wave crashed over Brooke and she was finding it incredibly hard to stay afloat. Despite having such a petite frame she managed to show dominance over the other girls and steal away any eyes that wandered away from her- “my is names Vanjie, yeah, I like to party, and when I shake it, the kids say hi mami” she jumped from the table down to the floor and flipped seemingly effortlessly onto the ground in front of her.

Before giving a flirtatious curtsey and sitting back down with the other Amazons, the girl made dead eye contact with Brooke and winked - for the first time in years Brooke felt utterly aware of herself as though she was stood fully naked. There was that wave again - Brooke was now without a doubt drowning. Her inner monologue questioned why she was so drawn to the girl and why that wink sent her into internal hysterics before being snapped back to reality by Jovan’s voice; “And that is R.A Charles’ answer to dance,” he laughed before shaking his head in clear disdain at the cheerleaders, Brooke noting something in his tone deeper rooted that she was afraid to question. Despite having a deep curiosity about “Vanjie” she held back from asking Jovan with fear of losing the only potential friend she had at her new school so kept quiet for the rest of the day - her thoughts nonetheless congregated with images of the girl. Every lesson she innocently scanned the class, telling herself it had nothing to do with the cheerleader yet being contrastingly disappointed every time her face failed to appear in any of Brooke’s classes. Brooke was a bee already trapped onto a flower’s pollen despite only one ounce of exposure to it and no suggestion as to why it pulled her in so much. Brooke was feeling the power of instant attraction coercing her in a way she had never experienced before, even if she couldn’t quite discern herself what that attraction was. Yes she had looked at girls before and felt a desire to be liked by them, a want to be friends with them but this was different - whatever it was Brooke felt about the girl, it was more than a want, it was a need.

***

Although Brooke had the preconceived notion that Jovan’s bedroom would be nothing like her old one in Toronto - clean and organised with her wardrobe colour coordinated with sections and subsections for patterns and materials, her windowsill gleaming enough to see her own reflection - she didn’t expect this. Chaotic. The walls had so much writing scrawled on them that you could barely make out the words and letters, everything blending together like one silver line drawing. If Brooke could describe it in the simplest of literary ways it would be if an interior designer on ket and an interior designer on weed made a room together whilst also drunk- even her attempts to describe the room in a simple simile overcomplicating itself in Brooke’s mind. The utter antithesis of what she had seen of the rest of the house with its clean-cut simplicity, something Brooke was a lot more accustomed to.

“Where’s your family tonight?” Brooke asked, trying her best to get to know her new friend.

“My moms working late and my stepdads out with a friend, I don’t know about Vanessa.”

“Vanessa?”

“My stepsister,” Jovan replied, his tone implying he had no interest in discussing her further, once again pushing Brooke back into that space of holding back, not wanting to get on the nerves of her new friend. “Want some?” he pulled a bottle of vodka from under his bed.

Although Brooke’s automatic answer to this question had always been a firm yet polite no, she was an athlete, something made her want to say yes. Whether it was the fact that she’d essentially been picked up from her old life and dropped somewhere completely new or unfamiliar, the fact that she knew she wouldn’t be able to dance the way she used to, Jovan’s blunt and innocent way of asking or simply that she wanted to fit in, Brooke didn’t know. Maybe it was a combination of all of it - nothing to hold her back.

***

She felt warm. And cold. Not particularly drunk. Maybe just euphoric. She didn’t know, and she couldn’t work it out. It scared her, the thought of not being in control of herself and her thoughts, yet she also felt relaxed, like it didn’t matter. A walking oxymoron of paranoia and level headedness she made her way out of Jovan’s room and downstairs to find some food, leaving her new friend giggling to himself on his bed and staring at the ceiling as though it were that of the Sistine Chapel. Walking into the kitchen she was surprised to see someone already raking through the fridge. Immediately transported back to the school cafeteria, Broke was frozen, sheepish, suddenly self-conscious of everything: her stance, her smile, the body she’d treated as a temple for years. It was her. Turning around with a diet coke in each hand, the cheerleader started talking without fully taking Brooke in, “Jovan how many freaking times have I told you not to loiter in the doorways like some sorta ant-” she stopped mid-flow as she looked up to see Brooke.  “Oh.”

“Hi,” Brooke smiled at the girl, feeling the weight of the world on her head when she titled it the slightest degree, scared she’d sound utterly pissed if she spoke anymore, she just smiled at the girl - in the end looking even more pissed.

“I know you,” the girl, Vanessa, grinned. Brooke’s head was stuck in a loop. I know you. I didn’t imagine it. I know you. It was hard to fathom how those three words sent Brooke in such a tailspin - all she wanted to do was walk over there rip the scrunchie out of her hair and hold her. Never in her life had she felt such an instant attraction. And too a girl. Always too focused on ballet to spend time dating, Brooke was not one to fall into the trap of romanticism, yet her she was throwing herself headfirst into the rocky waters for a girl who spoke 3 words to her. Vanessa. The butterfly. The beautiful sea witch who stole her voice. Slinky, small and seductive - Brooke was under her spell.

Stuck in a trance, Brooke and Vanessa’s session of eye-fucking was interrupted by the sound of voices coming into the room. Thud. Vanessa’s coke hit the floor.

“Vanjie can you hurry up I don’t want to be stuck waiting around with your faggy brother?” A boy Brooke hadn’t seen before sighed, glaring impatiently at Vanessa.

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything,” Jovan muttered under his breath before rolling his eyes and grabbing Brooke’s wrist to take her upstairs. “This is my friend Brooke by the way, thanks for the hospitality” he scoffed as they left the room. “You can’t go home tonight, you’re way too drunk”

“Your sister is the cheerleader?” Brooke asked mid-stumble up the stairs to which Jovan laughed in response. “And that’s her boyfriend?”

“Winner winner chicken dinner,” he sighed before tucking Brooke into his bed and making himself comfortable on the floor; Brooke asleep before they could even say goodnights.

***

Brooke woke up startled about where she was, and even more startled to see her peculiar looking friend sat watching her.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a weirdo?” Brooke squinted at the light above whilst sitting up.

“Every day,” Jovan laughed, throwing Brooke a toothbrush and sachet of paracetamol, “Hurry you’ll need these.”

Immediately disgusted at the bitter aftertaste of alcohol in her mouth and the thought of going to school without having showered nevermind completing her full morning routine, Brooke dragged herself to bed and allowed Jovan to show her the way to the bathroom.  Looking at herself in the mirror she began to pick apart her general ruggedness that morning, god she looked rough. Hearing the door creak open, she was surprised to see Vanessa stood in front on her instead of Jovan, looking like a Disney princess just rolled out of bed with her hair perfectly coiffed and not a bag under her eyes in sight. Keeping her cool she tried to continue brushing her teeth normally as Vanessa grabbed her own brush and started to clean her teeth. Switching glances between the mirror and the girl next to her, Brooke only realised how aggressively she had been brushing until Vanessa began to imitate her, spitting and giving Brooke a quizzical look. Soon they were enthralled in their own mini-contest, Vanessa remaining stone cold and she sped up and brushed harder before giving the sink one final rinse, dropping her toothbrush in a draw and walking out without uttering a word in Brooke’s direction - gone with the flick of her hair. Vanessa - 1, Brooke - 0.

***

It was not until 5th period on the Thursday of that week that Brooke saw Vanessa again. Gym class. On being informed that her teacher was absent that day, Brooke was told that her class would merge with the neighbouring one for a game of dodgeball in the gymnasium. Low and behold there was the girl she’d been unable to escape for the past two days, the centre of gravity in the room, her hair in its signature ponytail, tanned legs on show. Too distracted by Vanessa’s presence she hadn’t even noticed she’d walked into someone until she heard: “watch where you’re going, white girl.” Looking up she matched the voice with one of the two girls Vanessa had been dancing in the cafeteria with the Monday before, Silky. Unsure of how to react Brooke just backed away but only seemed to make matters worse. “Hey Vanjie,” the girl yelled, “think I’ve found an easy target for today’s game,” she mimicked throwing a ball at Brooke. Expecting Vanessa to at least acknowledge their meeting on Monday before or encounter the next morning with even a smile or look, Brooke was surprised to see the girl simply laugh at her friend, acting as if Brooke didn’t exist. If there was one thing Brooke thrived upon it was being underestimated, her competitive nature from years of ballet rising inside of her. She was channelling every piece of fear and fight that she’d felt in her battle to become Odette last term. Let the games begin.

Though putting up a fight, the cheerleaders were no match for Brooke- twirling, kicking and behind out of the way she managed to dodge every throw until she was the last one on her side, opposed by none other than Vanessa.

“C’mon Vanjie!” She heard the girls friends chant from the sidelines, determined to stick it back to the popular girl, Brooke clenched the ball between her hands. All of a sudden she saw the opposing ball fly towards her legs, quickly leaping into a box jump it swung right under her body, Brooke took the opportunity of Vanessa being off-guard to throw her own ball mid-air - colliding forcefully into the other girl’s chest. One point to Brooke, she thought to herself as she watched the girl walk over to her friends and chat frustratingly with glances in her direction.

“Hey white girl,” Vanessa’s other friend, Akeria, shouted over. Contemplating on ignoring her, Brooke realised she would probably only make trouble for herself walking away from the most popular girls in school so doubtfully decided to make her way over to them.

“You’re pretty flexible,” Akeria said as she came over, eyeing Brooke in a peculiar way, as though he was looking up and down an outfit she was going to try on.

“Thanks, I guess,” Brooke replied, she may be intimidated by the girls but she had always portrayed confident and never let her cracks show.

“You know were holding tryouts for the Amazons tomorrow, one of our girls broke her leg and we need a replacement before we compete, you should come along,” Silky smiled at Brooke, showing a completely different side to when they had first entered the gym.

“Just because she’s flexible doesn’t mean she can cheer,” Vanessa joined in the conversation, “I highly doubt this girl’s gonna be able to yell or flip,” she added as though Brooke wasn’t even a part of the conversation.

“Vanjie, we need a new girl or else we can’t compete,” Akeria made faces at her friend that Brooke could clearly read as “what are you doing!!!!”

“I’m sorry girls and no offence Brandy but I think you’re underestimating our hustle. Cheer is hard work and I don’t think she’s cut out for the team,” Vanessa fake smiled before turning on one heel and strutting away from the group.

Brooke was stunned at Vanessa suggesting that she had little work ethic, she wanted so badly to follow the girl and give her a piece of her mind…along with a piece of her full stop. Because no matter how much a of a bitch the girl Brooke had spent the last four days enthralled with turned out to be, she only wanted her more and more. She was going to find a way to be up there with the Amazons. And she was not going to back down.

[kumkaniudaku]

The Dream

Written By: @justanotherloveaffair

Warnings: SMUT! (18 + Content)

Word Count

Chadwick woke up next to you with a gasp.

You stirred in your sleep at the sound to find your husband sitting upright, his upper body heaving with each breath in and out. Each one sounding like a strained gasp for air.

Concerned, you placed your hand on his arm. “Aaron?”

He turned towards you in the dark. “Co,” he sighed. A warm hand – no, a sweaty hand covered yours and squeezed slightly. “Co…”

Something about the tone of his voice shook off your sleepiness and you began to sit up, noticing the feverish sheen of sweat all over him. Your hand immediately went to his forehead. He was burning up.

“Baby, what is it?” Alarm stirred in you the longer he took to answer.

As he tried to master his breathing, you noticed his expression of pure euphoria. The kind you saw after mindblowing sex. You also noticed his dick was rock hard.

You quickly began to put two and two together.

Chadwick’s fingers entwined with yours in the dark. When he spoke, the awe in his voice was so strong in emotion it made your breath catch in your throat.

“I just had a dream that… was so real…” he let a giddy sound slip, “I have never… Tasha, it was…. oh my God. It was you and I and…”

Chadwick was an articulate and composed man but this was something else altogether. Though you were impatient for details, you were also drawn in by his dizzying energy.

He was still trying to piece his mind together so you rubbed his arms and hands, both of you now facing each other upright. “Shhh baby, relax,” you soothed. Meanwhile, your eyes were distracted by the distinct shape in his lap, where his excitement was most telling.

“I don’t wanna forget… need to write this down…”

“Can’t you just tell me?” You were wide awake, wide-eyed and not sure you could handle another second of anticipation for what had gotten Chadwick in this state.

He rubbed his forehead, your question reaching him through a thick fog.

“Yes…. Yes.”

“Start at the beginning… tell me everything,” you whispered, tendrils of excitement curling up your spine.

He breathed out and leaned against the headboard, opening his lap up even more for your inspection. His proud dick jutting upwards, now impossible to ignore.

“I will baby, I will... but… can you help me take care of this first?”

Biting back a smile, you barely waited for him to ask before swinging your thigh over his lap, sliding your hands over his erection and pressing your lips into the stubble at his jaw, purring as you nipped at him, “I think I can do that for you if you promise to start talking after….”

~ ~ ~

Chadwick described a room of white. White sheets on a large bed, the only furniture in the room. Bright sunshine behind gauzy white curtains. The details were so vivid, he could recall a breeze making the fabric shift with delicate grace.

And on the bed, there were three figures. Chadwick, you, and… another.

A woman.

There was a current of nerves in the air, of anticipation and excitement. She was shy…. watching you at a distance, from the edge of the bed where she lay on her side, her head propped on an elbow watching you both with a sweet, alluring smile.

She seemed to be waiting. Content only to watch for now.

On the other side of the bed, Chadwick caressed his hands up and down your body in a moment of intimacy that was, for now, only between husband and wife. His fingertips dragged slowly, leaving goosebumps on your skin. His long body pressed into yours from behind as his hands swept and cupped you everywhere.

A sea of white sheets separated your bodies from hers, one that would be crossed only when he was sure you knew how cherished you were.

After some time, a hand reached out across the divide and hers unfurled from beneath her to take it. She touched your fingers and returned your smile.

Hello. You heard a musical voice.

The woman was beautiful. Her heart-shaped face was sweet and feminine, with a shy innocence in her rich brown eyes. The curves hugging her bronze, glowing body were mesmerizing. Any man or woman with a pulse would fall to their knees at her full hips and ample thighs, tapering at a small waist below the soft rise of her breasts. Though you had never been with a woman, this goddess would be the one to tempt you.

And you were curious.

She was the first to move, shifting slowly towards you while Chadwick’s hands continued to warm your skin. The woman’s approach was tentative and you squeezed her hand. What would it be like to touch her? Kiss her?

Then she was close enough to touch, and you didn’t have to wonder anymore.

Everything seemed to stop when her lips touched yours.

The wind making the curtains swirl vanished as the air left the room. You closed your eyes and focused on the feeling as time seemed to stop. She was so soft. As you greeted your new lover, your hand brushed up and down over the swell of her hip, up to her waist and down again.

Being used to Chadwick’s rough stubble, the sensation of pillowy softness against yours was entirely new. In this moment of discovery, you almost forgot he was behind you.

Almost.

~ ~ ~

You lifted your head from the crook of Chadwick’s shoulder where you were laying in post-orgasmic bliss, listening to his highly detailed retelling of the dream like a dirty bedtime story.

“So I’m just making out with this random woman right in front of you? Damn Aaron, am I always this freaky in your dreams?”

“Oh this ain’t even the half of it – this is just the start,” he smiled. “And it wasn’t freaky like you think. This was some beautiful shit, like softcore porn filmed with a soft-focus lens – you know what I’m talkin’ bout.”

You settled back on him, staring at the ceiling in the dark, your mind’s eye filled with intriguing images from his descriptions. “Babe, this is hot. Tell me what happens next.”

~ ~ ~

Who is she… you thought as the unknown beauty left plump, soft kisses on your jaw and down your neck.

She’s here for us, for your pleasure… and mine. Chadwick’s voice materialized in your head, intangible as a shadow.

You accepted the explanation for this ethereal new lover whose mouth had never left your skin. Either she or Chadwick had shifted you on your back, presenting your body for her. Every touch she left was gentle as a breath. You were captivated watching her descend between the valley of your breasts, slowly rising and falling with your breathing.

To your right was the equally beautiful form of your husband, his nude, masculine body stretched out close at your side. Looking between the two, you were overwhelmed already by the many gifts this moment was giving you.

Chadwick’s hand turned your face until your glazed over eyes were on his. Does her mouth feel good on you, baby?

You couldn’t respond with anything but a moan and you closed your eyes as teeth captured your nipple and released, only to be pulled in to her mouth with a warm suck. Your gasp was stopped by a set of lips you knew very, very well. Chadwick covered your mouth, his hand caressing the side of your face as he kissed you slowly, swallowing your little sounds.

The contrast of him and her at once was sending you into heaven. His rigid tongue flicking inside your mouth, rough stubble piercing your skin, the coarse pads of his fingers keeping you still all in such stark contrast to the soft, wet ministrations of her mouth.

You heard the melodic, slightly husky voice of the woman, her accent one you couldn’t place.

You taste wonderful, may I have more?

Surprised by the beautiful and feminine sound in your head, without parting from Chadwick’s intense kiss you responded privately, in a mental connection that existed only between you and her,

Yes, please, you’re incredible…

A sound something between a mischievous giggle and a sigh came in response from the woman who was igniting fire with every kiss down your stomach. Your hand crept onto Chadwick’s bicep, your grip sharpening suddenly as a wet kiss was placed right between your legs. You tore from Chadwick’s mouth with a heaving gasp, both of you looking down to take in the sight of her flicking her tongue against the surface of your pussy.

Relax… came the woman’s voice in your mind, followed by her magical laugh that was both girlish and captivating. Enjoy, but focus on him. He needs your touch.

It seemed an impossible task as she bathed you with her tongue. The inside of your mind was whirling, overstimulated. Sensing this through some mysterious connection, the woman eased off of you, instead grazing her fingers and her lips over your upper thighs as you gathered your focus.

You turned to face Chadwick, your gaze smoldering over him, everywhere you looked sparking excitement in you. His body was a chiseled figure of masculinity in every way. Strong enough to lift you off your feet in a heartbeat, thick enough to make you praise the heavens when he entered you. Even his scent, a mix of shea butter and sandalwood, made desire pool in your belly when you were near enough to breathe him in.

You reached down to the hairs on his chest, your light tickle there turning his attention away from watching the woman still kissing between your legs. Your warm palm left goosebumps wherever you touched him. He hadn’t realized how much he was aching for it and released a lungful of air with a sigh when your fingers teased down his abdomen and scratched teasingly in the short hairs at the base of his dick.

Touch me…

His begging words became a moan as you did just that, your fingers moving along his towering length. You curled them into a half circle around him and Chadwick immediately moved with you, his hips jutting forward, pushing himself into your hand. The scene unfolding around him having such an obvious effect, he was whimpering at just the lightest touch.

Your lover needs our attention…. Should we give it to him?

Her playful voice in your head made you look down, and you answered with a sly smile that matched hers.

She placed a slow, sensual kiss over your folds, closing her eyes as she did. We’ll come back to you, love. I promise.

~ ~ ~

“So wait, we really just dropped our shit to focus on you when I haven’t even cum yet?” You gestured your hands animatedly into the air. “Come on!”

A hearty laugh bubbled from deep in Chadwick’s chest and you whacked him with the back of your hand, acting playfully annoyed mostly to cover up how aroused you were.

He rolled over, teasing you with his breath in your ear as his strong arm crossed over your abdomen. “Don’t worry, we get to you later…”

~ ~ ~

Both you and the woman moved with synchronized grace, prowling on hands and knees to occupy space on either side of Chadwick’s lower half. His heart pounded visibly in his chest as he looked between you both.

Look at him… look how beautiful he is.

Her words prompted you to slow down and take in the sight, from the short curls on his head, to his expressive brown eyes with brows drawn in tight with desire, his sinfully full lips parted to let out his short breaths.  

You are both so lucky to have each other.

You quietly agreed as your vision raked down his chest and settled on his tempting length, the source of so much of what you craved, and so much of your pleasure. On either side of his hips, his fingers curled into the bed as he shuddered with excitement for your touch.

He watched through a thick haze of lust as you lowered your mouth and kissed the warm skin at the base of his shaft. You licked up slowly towards the tip, leaving a trail of saliva and found his thick, smooth head, taking it past your lips and gathering up his saltiness with wide swirls. His low moan echoed in every corner of your mind. Encouraged, you kept taking him into your mouth until you couldn’t fit another inch in your throat, and tears stung your eyes.

Your desire to please left your throat raw, saliva dribbling down your chin as you carefully slipped him in and out, finally letting him go with a messy pop to gasp for breath.

Another mouth was ready for him. She kissed along his lubricated shaft and, inspired, you leaned in to join her, letting instinct dictate your movements as you worked up and down, together. Her eyes were open with delight at the wild sounds coming from Chadwick, booming cries that filled the room as two sets of lips and tongues brought him unimaginable pleasure.

Come here T…he whimpered, the atoms of his body so scattered apart he could barely speak.

His weakened fingers gripped your shoulder and tugged. You glanced at your companion who winked at you just as her lips descended down his shaft, another of Chadwick’s moans rocking the room in response.

You responded to his weak little grasps on your body, crawling up to a soundtrack of wet sucking sounds and him repeating your name. Co, Co, please… please…

You didn’t know what he so ardently needed until the strength returned to his fingers and he grasped around your thighs, jerking you so hard towards his mouth you nearly stumbled over him. He caught you and held you firmly as his lips went straight to your nectar, his tongue and vibrating moans sending tremors through your body.

He ate you with the need of a man starving, encouraging you to grind down and keeping you stable with his powerful grip around your thighs. You rocked against his tongue, the decadent feel of its wet silkiness swirling around your pussy making you cry out. Looking down, you could barely comprehend the sight of yourself planted on his flawless face as he devoured you, eyes partly closed in concentration as he tried to focus while experiencing his own nirvana.

Having to split his attention between the two of you was the only thing holding him back from draining himself down the beautiful woman’s talented throat.

I need you Co. I need more.

Chadwick’s rough pleading filled your mind as he continued to suck you into his mouth, holding your hips as you circled.

Give it to me.

You moaned, sweat trickling down your face and Chadwick’s hands doubled their efforts to hold you still as a rush of pleasure tightened in your stomach. Give me everything, come on my mouth, good girl….

Your cries became noiseless gasps as you were rocked with white-hot pleasure, the intensity making your thighs shiver. Crowding your splintered mind were Chadwick’s moans along with yours as he drank down your essence. Good girl… the room was spinning as you swayed away from his mouth, sagging back on him weakly.

Mmmm, so beautiful to watch, the corners of your mind bloomed with her sultry voice. Looking back, you saw that she had released him, and was smiling up at you both, watching with adoration. You’re amazing together, both you and Chadwick heard, and you couldn’t help but lock eyes and grin at each other.

~ ~ ~

“I’m beginning to feel bad for this woman,” you caressed Chadwick’s chest thoughtfully, your mind so stimulated and engaged in the imagery that your whole lower half was throbbing.

You shifted over so you were half laying on Chadwick’s chest to look up at him, and in doing so, brushed against his almost full arousal.

“All she’s done so far is give us both oral, seems kinda unfair for her,” you frowned.

Chadwick laughed, enjoying your investment in his dream. “And here I thought you’d be happy you finally got to cum.” His large hands grazed down your back, making you shiver, the pebbles of your nipples hardening against his solid chest.

“Let me finish,” he whispered, picking up on the heat building between your bodies. “I think you’ll find this dream has a happy ending for everyone.”

~ ~ ~

There was a quiet moment of pause as each of you collected yourselves, content to listen to each other breathe and relish the soothing breeze in the room, cooling the sweat on your bodies.

With the fireworks of your orgasm still dissipating, you were capable of not much more than laying at Chadwick’s side, limbs sapped of energy.

By contrast, Chadwick’s body was still tense, pulsing from being taken so far but not all of the way.

The woman beguiled you. She had given so much and taken so little, her patience seemingly infinite. Her shapely figure was curled between Chadwick’s legs, content as a purring cat. Her brown eyes watching you both with feline laziness. Relaxed and waiting.

You touched your hand to Chadwick’s chest, the muscles flexing in reaction. Keeping your steady gaze on her watching orbs, you trailed your hand down Chadwick’s body, both of you noticing him squirm.

You want him?

Smiling, her expressive eyes blinked slowly at your question.

Yes. I want you both.

Your hand reached its destination, the treasure at the end of the trail you grazed down his abdomen. You closed your fingers around his shaft, a whimper leaving his lips.

I think he wants you too.

Keeping him in your palm, you lowered down to his ear where you kissed and nibbled on his lobe, your teasing making him moan so he almost didn’t hear when you whispered, I want to watch you fuck her.

His eyes flickered open and he searched your face, one hand coming to your cheek as he sought out your confirmation. You nodded.

The motion next to you was so natural and smooth it seemed choreographed. He rolled up onto his knees, his shaft bobbing temptingly. Reacting to a command just for her, she shifted with a dancer’s grace beneath him, laying her voluptuous body next to you.

Both of you watched your husband crawl between her legs, lust darkening her eyes and yours at the masculine display as he confidently gripped her just below her knees, spreading them to either side of his tautly muscled thighs. You sensed her appreciation of how beautiful he was, and the tense excitement of her anticipation as she sucked in her breath.

When he spread his tip around her opening to gather her lubrication, you heard their shared moans at the contact. Chadwick palmed her essence up and down himself and even though you were just watching, you braced along with her for what came next.

Moving with instinct, your hands went to the warm skin of her stomach, rubbing around to soothe her as she whimpered at the sensation of Chadwick entering her.

Oh… he’s so big…

You smiled, knowing just how she felt, how you ached with the intensity of his stretch whenever he first penetrated you. You almost felt him yourself as you watched her head fall back, her voice shattering into gasps. Your hand continued gliding over her soft belly as Chadwick sank deeper inside. It was addicting to fill your hands with her soft skin and hear her gasps as your husband took over her body. It was unlike anything you’d ever known.

A heavy heartbeat thudded in your lower body, the arousal dripping down your thighs a tribute to the scene unfolding before you that you had the privilege to observe. You shifted closer to her side, so close you could kiss the swell of her breast, the skin firm and yet yielding, impossibly soft to touch.

Your hand crept down her stomach and pelvis to where her mound was pressed firmly against Chadwick’s pelvis, the two of them joined as close as could be. You imagined you could almost feel the shape of him deep inside her, where your hand rested, and you shuddered at the thought. Fascinated, you watched him emerge slowly and return inside her to a chorus of moans that you were adding to without realizing it. You could almost feel him yourself, through her. She gripped your arm as he did it again, beginning to set a slow pace.

It was magic to watch them. Both so beautiful and full of grace as they moved passionately together, their thrusts against each other coming faster now. You rubbed your thighs and shifted your hips against the bed, looking for relief at the aching inside, while you kissed at her addicting skin, admiring the bounce of her breasts where you left an occasional kiss on your exploration of her torso.

As you did, you felt the touch of a finger between your legs, seeking entrance and you heard Chadwick’s sultry command in your head.

I need to touch you baby. Open up for me.

Surprised, you opened your thighs and Chadwick shifted to lean down over the both of you, where his hand could comfortably reach his favorite spot.

With his chest pressed down over hers, he continued to fuck her slowly, their faces now intimate and close. Their lips came together in steamy passion, all while Chadwick’s fingers fondled your sweet spot and you greedily thrust against them.

Oh god

Fuck

Aaron…

All three of your moans mingled together into one sound. The woman’s head fell back as her upper body arched, pressing her breasts into Chadwick’s chest while worked her slowly, his hips rocking into her.

Kiss me, he growled to you and you shifted up, eager to feel him anywhere you could have him. His fingers abandoned your heat to crush you towards him in a fiery kiss. You felt the sweat and effort in his heavy breathing, the heat of his desperate passion burning you down.

He could only sustain it for so long before breaking away, and immediately you bent down to the woman, greedily pulling her face up towards you so you could sink your hungry lips onto hers. She leaned into your kiss as if you were air. The salty taste of sweat mixing with her natural sweetness making you plunder her mouth with your tongue as if you’d never kissed before. You wondered if this madness to dominate her soft, pliable mouth was what Chadwick felt when he kissed you.

Her moans of pleasure were breathtaking as her whole body rocked up the bed, each thrust coming faster and harder. One arm hooked around Chadwick’s back while the other held your face against hers, ensuring you didn’t slip away.

Her eyes fluttered open, her lips falling away from your kiss.

He’s incredible… but he wants you. Her glazed over eyes reflected the warmth from her smile. I want to watch you with him now.

On some silent signal from her, Chadwick’s movements stalled, and he rubbed your hip as the action next to you continued to slow until their bodies shifted with lazy momentum.

Your turn now, my love.

A bolt of excitement made your heart pound at Chadwick’s words. The two were already untangling to make room for you, the woman about to take your place at your side.

Stop. Stay there, you requested before she could move off of her back. Her striking face was glowing with sweat, a seductive smile spreading as you crawled onto your hands and knees in the space in front of her.

Chadwick gathered what you were craving as you pushed your round ass high, deepening the arch of your back. His excitement resonating in your mind as he moaned Oh, Co…. yes, his hands already squeezing and massaging your cheeks.

This was his favorite way to take you.

You shared a private smile with the woman, feeling a connection with her that went beyond space and time. Her ample thighs spread before you, she was a feminine goddess worthy of a monument, and you were going to worship her.

You bent to press a single kiss on the smooth skin above her pussy while Chadwick continued to tease you from behind, first with his hands and then the head of his dick. You concentrated on placing slow kisses on her mound, each one descending further until warmth and heat surrounded you along with her sweet scent.

She held her breath at the tentative touch of your lips on her most sensitive spot. Behind you, Chadwick had gone still too. Watching.

You feel so good, she murmured just to you. You’re an amazing woman, CoCo.

With a groan you opened your mouth and closed over her, taking a long swipe that fully covered her surface and her voice broke into gasps. She shivered under you and you gripped her thighs, returning to her with firm licks that took away her ability to speak. You weren’t thinking of anything but making her more of a mess. She was divine in every way. The way she moved, sighed, and shook from your touch as if there was nothing in the world but you.

Co… are you ready for me?

You released her and squeezed your eyes shut, preparing to have your resolve to please both of them at once tested.

Yes, baby, please…

A firm squeeze on your cheek preceded the gentle push of his thick head at your entrance, your tight resistance lessened by your dripping arousal. As he slowly took you, all awareness of a world beyond the place your bodies connected ceased to exist. There was only him.

You wanted as much as he could give. Impatient, you wiggled your hips back and were rewarded by his fingertips gripping you tight, a deep groan in your ear as his hands pulled your hips back until you’d taken all of him.

Co.....

Ah….Aaron..

You moaned with him, your cheek pressed into the woman’s thigh, painting the delicate skin with your hot breath as you tried to control yourself. You needed a moment to appreciate how incredible he felt, how deep and thick he stretched you as if he occupied more than your body, but your heart and soul.

When you felt capable, you brushed your lips along her thighs, determined to return to the kisses that caused her such intoxicating moans before. As your mouth rejoined with her center, you had to brace yourself against being knocked forward as Chadwick began to move, the enthusiasm of his first few thrusts making you bounce.

Chadwick honey, slower, slower…you ordered, earning you a half smile and a sorry as he slowed his excited hips, finding a gentle groove that made you nearly melt into the woman. The pace allowed you to focus on her, while you rolled your hips around, matching Chadwick’s luxurious motions beat for beat.

Mmm, just like that baby, you encouraged, without pausing your exploration of her hidden folds. Pleasuring her was so different, and yet it felt natural. You recalled the very same things that Chadwick did to make you crazy and used them to make her squeal while adapting to her pace and following the clues of her sounds to discover what she liked.

While stroking your tongue between her folds, your upper lip just grazing her pearl, you felt her clutch you with excitement. She unleashed a torrent of gasps and moans, and even though you were being fucked with glorious skill by Chadwick, you were determined to drive her to the crest of her wave, no matter how long it took.

You focused on sustaining that perfect alchemy of pace and pressure as she grinded against you, becoming more undone each second until finally her thighs tightened around you and as she shook, you smiled with pride at the beautiful reaction you’d unleashed with nothing more than your mouth.

Yet you had little time to relish in her release. Watching your lover come at the hands of his wife propelled Chadwick to new heights of excitement. He growled, and with a sudden squeal, you clutched the sheets as he began drilling into you. He shifted higher on the bed, lifting up on one knee to half-bend over you, the position allowing him to draw all his strength to pound you with everything that he had.

While you cried out, soaking the sheets beneath you in sweat, you registered a soft, female touch on your back. Her smaller fingers leaving whisper-soft touches everywhere she could reach, soothing you as you had done to her.

I bet it feels good being fucked so hard.

It was the first time you heard the voice in your head swear, and you couldn’t string more than a few broken sounds together in response.

You felt her touch move underneath you, near where you and Chadwick were joined. Her fingers curled and rubbed against your sensitive button. You gasped out, turning your cheek sideways to observe her beautiful features trained on you both, her hands both engaged in bringing the most pleasure to your bodies.

Chadwick couldn’t handle the expert touch of her fingers on his tightened balls and nearly stumbled forward with overstimulation as he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to sputter even a warning before he slammed you one last time. Sparks flew behind your eyelids at the woman’s firm pressure on your clit and you and Chadwick came together, making glorious, passionate sounds in your shared ecstasy. He rode you for all you were worth, the divine feeling of your tight pussy milking his dick sending him into oblivion.

Hot, sweaty, and dripping with both of your come mingling in a river down your thighs, you wearily slumped down to the bed where Chadwick already lay trying to catch his breath. You breathed out in a small delirious laugh at how good and used you felt. Satiated. Happy.

God I love you Co. C’mere.

Wearily, you dragged yourself into his open arms, but something stopped you from relaxing into him.

A third presence was missing. You blinked as you looked around.

She was gone.

But you heard her voice, like a song wafting through the open window, as intangible as the breeze rustling the pale curtains that billowed towards the bed you now shared only with Chadwick.

Thank you.

~ ~ ~

Several seconds passed after he finished talking, followed by silence.

“Hmmmm.” Your voice trailed off in a contented sound.

A pause. “Hmm?” Chadwick imitated, his stomach muscles behind you tensing as he began sitting up. “I tell you the hottest shit my brain has ever come up with and all you have to say is hmmm?”

“Well I didn’t mean it like, hmm,” you defended, mimicking the flippant way he had imitated you. “I meant it like, hmmmmmmmmmm,” you took a deep breath and sighed out, drawing out the word in a long note of pleasure.

“Hmmmmm.” He responded, settling back against the pillows, smiling as his hands returned to your soft breasts, long fingers almost covering them entirely. “I get it now,” he kissed your neck, making sure the slight rumble of his baritone was felt right in your ear. “My dream turned you on, huh Co?”

“Hmmmmmm,” you responded playfully, stroking and scratching at his arms. “Maybe a little.”

Throughout his telling, there was no denying the effect the images from his words had on you. You failed to hide your little moans at certain details, the way you brushed yourself against his midsection at every opportunity, and the most telltale sign of all, the dampness coating your thighs, which Chadwick discovered as his hands roamed all over you, his own excitement difficult to conceal.

It wasn’t a question of if you were going to fuck again, but when. And you didn’t have to wait long to find out.

And when you finally fell asleep, you dreamt of white billowing curtains, with a soft voice on the wind….

Hello again.

                                  _____________

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[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 22

Warnings: NSFW. Explicit sexual content. Language.

The deep valleyed cut of his abs smashed to my own femininely toned core as he carried me around his waist in meaningful steps toward what I assumed was his bedroom. I loosened my boa constrictor like clasp around his torso, thinking for a moment I may have a heard him choke for a deep breath before we he kicked open the unlatched wooden door. Once we entered the light gray walls of his private room, he turned blindly and my protruding vertebras rolled on the unforgiving drywall beside his dresser. One palm petted my backside over the stretched latex of my black shorts, while its mate balanced him flat to the wall slightly above my head that was swirling erratically with the rhythm of his mouth.

“I have thought about this every damn day for the last year you wasn’t around, Liv. These legs squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me…” Colton looked at me with the same fiery fury he exhibited when entering the cage. 

My shirt discarded somewhere on his kitchen floor, and his now being pulled almost angrily over his head by me, allowed our sweating flesh to mingle into a sinful concoction.

“You sure, baby? I swear to God, I wouldn’t rush you into anything,” he politely contested.

“I’m sure, Colt. So, so sure.”

The three words were his vivid green light. I lightly closed my lids as my eyeballs rolled delightfully into the back of my head when I hit the feathery top of his assumingly expensive king size mattress. Strangely, he chose pulling my probably terribly smelling hair from the confines of an elastic hairband as the first item on his current to-do list. I shook like a wet, freshly bathed retriever, trying to beautify my hopeless locks, wanting to appear as sexy as possible for him in our first bedroom reunion. The last remnants of deodorant after our run, and the “vanilla” solid black bikini panties I wore, already miserably crashing that party, however.

Colton didn’t seem to be bothered one bit though, as his sucked raw, red teeth marks along my ribs, suddenly surprised at his meeting with my own tattoo from our break from each other.

A grazing, splendid finger traced the length of the black, sharpened pencil illustration down the side of my body starting due west of my breast. “It suits you,” he whispered through licked lips. “And you suit me.”

He hiked a hand up my southern cheeks, to duck into the waistband of my bottoms, and I slightly eased my weight from the bed to assist him in sliding them off from the back. My running shorts thrown to the side, left me now shivering in only thin underwear. Colton looped thru the leg holes, then looked to me, and tore the material in half right off my trembling body.

“Hope those didn’t cost ya’ too much, baby.”

A whiny moan of pleasure jumped from my chest when I felt strong, manly hands instantly probing the searing entrance between my thighs. Colton’s left hand massaged woefully slow on the space of my hip subtly, while the right painted careful strokes amid my aching lips.

His own hot breaths matched the temperature of my sex when he brought his nose level to it. “Can I kiss you, baby? Here?”

Unable to fathom any display of appropriate behavior at this point, I nearly yelled a scratchy growl of approval, and pulled him by the cold, damp strands of his hair to the midpoint of my gaping legs. The talented darts of his tongue, and teasing pecks of his lips two familiar feelings I never wanted to live without ever again.

“Colton, yes! Damn it..” I hissed through grinding teeth. He was like craving that could never become fulfilled.

“Open your eyes, Liv. I want you to look at me. Watch me make you come.”  He said through gritted teeth. His directions were stern, and darkly delicious in every way. Leaving me no other choice but to do exactly as commanded.

After what seemed like several unsteady, panting fits, Colton kept to his word, and rendered me with a paralyzing release, punctuated with his own smile of pride and perversion.

“That never gets old. I missed your taste, girl.”

“I need you, baby. Right this minute, please. I need to feel you.”

Did you just…beg? You begged like a detoxing fiend. Let’s try and hold on to a shred of dignity here, Liv.

My hands instantly pawed searchingly for the traps of stone that sat like mountains at the base of his neck as he predatorily crawled atop my still writhing body. They were my favorite place to hold onto as I rode him out like a hurricane wave. In an instant, graceful kisses fell down the crook of my neck, and around lobes of my ears, inhaling me, and I heard his precious admittance of love and longing spew like the Trevi fountain.

“I love you, Livvy baby. I don’t know how I ever let myself live without you. Fuck, I would die right here, and I promise I’d die with a smile.” He voiced hissed like the smooth smoke of a wildfire.

Boy, oh boy was he spreading it thick like smooth, buttery cement. I planted my hand over the sensitive skin where my awarded tattoo rest on his arm, savoring the fact that it, along with every other notion from Colton Ritter, meant that he was mine. The man was explicitly, unforgivingly, unashamedly mine. No matter what conniving demons dwelt within the darkest slums of his very being, he belonged to me, and nothing would change that. He wouldn’t allow it, and neither would I.

As we fused and curled into one thrashing mound of flesh and he pushed inside my walls, a tear rolled from the duct of my eye to soak into the comforter beneath my sticky hair. He filled me emotionally, mentally, and so pleasingly physically. His hands weaved deeply into my mane on both sides of my head, as he sank his lips into the fleshy globes on my chest. Feeling his perfect fingers all over my body like this felt like a cherished return. His body was built to destroy any enemies that may arise, and inflict painful chaos. Yet, here he was hovering over me so tenderly as if my body was fragile, fine china. Delicate touches and warm caressing hands molded against all my edges.

Colt bit over the throbbing pulse of my neck, and his paces increased with the cadency of my heart. He closed his eyes every so often, and I smiled at the way his long lashes shadowed onto his cheeks. White noise overtook the room as our words halted, and only breaths and thrusts made us look alive. I shuddered as he looked downward to inspect the way my slit looked hugging his length in entrance, and exit. The more he grunted, and murmured my name, the more I wanted to milk his own release from him, and if he kept grazing my deep walls in that same treasured spot, that’s exactly what would happen. His member felt like steel, sewed into plush velvet.

“Right there, Colton. I’m almost… mhmmm..”

“I love watching what my cock does to you, baby. You look so fuckin’ perfect when that face gets all blushed and soft after I make you come. Kiss me. ” He told me, but proceeded with the very action himself before giving me the chance.

That “blush” on my face is partially from the downright obscene things you so casually say to me, Colton. This Indiana girl needs a minute to process your boorish slang! But you love it, don’t even deny. You’re a scoundrel now, Elliott.

The chaste brush of a singular kiss ended almost as rapidly as its beginning before those predicable curses of orgasm screamed out of him. “Fuck… fuck! Livvy, your body is so… damn it. Every single… damn it. Fuck.”

Shouldn’t that be offensive? Liiiiiiike, I at least deserve a complete sentence of obscenities, Ritter.

I felt as if every particle of energy I had in me exited through the explosive orgasms he so kindly gifted me in our sexual homecoming. My spirit felt bright like the yellow of a daisy, or the perfect pink of a ripe watermelon. It was a revival of spirts that shocked my heart back to life.  

“Do you just challenge yourself to see how many expletives you can shout during sex?” I snickered, rubbing my hand over the tread marks of sweat rolling down his back over my claw marks.

“What can I say? My girl just brings out the best in me.”      

 I slept at his place that night, the open-house tour at my new apartment would have to wait. Almost smothered into the bear-hug embrace of his unbreakable muscles, I slept unmoved all night long. Aside from the drawn-out bathroom break around 3 a.m. that predictably led to him being woken by my blind stumbles in the dark, and needing another dose of his addiction between my legs. I didn’t startle from a deep sleep with hallucinations of his ghostly form sleeping next to me, or wake up and yearn for his warm body next to me under the sheets. I had both of those things. In fullness of reality, in the flesh. No more visions or dreams of fond memories, or nightmares of what could’ve been. We had found that road back to each other, and there were more memories to make.

I awoke, nude, alone in a tangled array of passion-soaked sheets, to the sound of a grinding blender, and an aroma perhaps to be eggs cooking. Checking the mirror briefly for matted, morning eye gunk, I adorned myself in a crumbled t-shirt I found in the arm chair beside his bed, then let my nose follow the scent of my probable waiting breakfast.

As I walked barefoot through the morning lit halls, a tingling yet, enflamed throb pulsed with my steps. It was the familiar ache of a night spent with Colton, and I smiled euphorically, welcoming the sensation.

“There she is! I was about to come wake your lazy ass up. You gotta eat so I can get you home and changed for work. Hope you don’t mind, I texted Ryan from your phone tellin’ him you’d be a little late to work this mornin’. I wanted you to sleep.” Colton turned away from the stovetop, serving up a healthy plate of scrambled egg whites, and two tomato slices.

He was covered only in thin shorts, and apparently a pair of tight-fitting briefs that peeked out around the waistband.  His eyes were a bit puffy, and still glazed from sleep, and again, freshly showered I concluded from the smell of his mountain musk soap. He smell was an unforgettable aroma of home. “Dig in, and I’ll put your protein shake in a cup for you to drink on the way.”

“Colton Ritter. Domesticated. I never thought I’d see the day. Should I buy us matching aprons?” I bit into a piece of the ripe tomato, catching an explosion of juice from running down my chin.

“Domesticated in the kitchen, maybe. The bedroom? Another story.  Isn’t that right you filthy, begging girl?” He sarcastic chided as he stood behind my chair, lifting my knotty hair into a fist, then kissing the back of my now exposed neck.

I recalled then the embarrassing amount of times that I’d whispered “please,” or “don’t stop,” the night before in our torrid exchanges.

“You created this monster, babe.” My head relaxed into his standing body behind me, and I winked up at him, menacingly.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

[gimmesumsuga]

Sweeter than Sweet (5)

Pairing: Jimin x reader + others as the story progresses

Warnings: None to note.  

Word count: 2.8K

Previous / Next

*Chapter edited as of 25/08/21*

You're disorientated when you awake; no clue how long you've slept or where you might be. Blinking back the sleep from your eyes, it takes a good few seconds for the previous night’s events to come flooding back; the club, those girls, that near-miss with Hoseok and that possessive look in Jimin’s eyes. Was that last night? With how groggy you feel it wouldn’t surprise you if it’s been a hell of a lot longer than that.

Looking around, you try to make some sense of where you are. You can’t really remember much after Jimin gave you his jacket. You must’ve fallen asleep. Does that mean he carried you here? Is this his room? The thought fills you with a surge of adrenaline, feeling far more awake and alert than you were just a few moments before, heart rate spiking. You try to sit up and immediately regret it when your back protests, settling instead for lifting your head to inspect the pretty midnight blue quilt that covers you. Your bare toes poke out the end and on further inspection, you realise that it’s not a bed you were placed to sleep on but a large, sumptuous chaise lounge.

You let out a groan as you roll onto your side, eyes screwing up tight at the ache of every muscle. Attempting a stretch, you raise your arms above your head, fingers wiggling as you loudly yawn.

“You’re awake.”

Yawning turns into coughing and spluttering as your body lurches into action, sitting up so fast that there are spots in front of your eyes when you first open them to see Jimin sat on the edge of a bed not too far from your own. The suddenness of your movement knocks the quilt from your lap and it’s only once it does that you realise just how little you’re wearing; nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt that’s not your own. Cheeks aflame, you scramble for the quilt, grabbing it from the floor and pulling it over yourself hastily to cease the trailing of Jimin’s gaze across your thighs.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, tucking the quilt around you as butterflies swirl in your stomach.

“It’s evening, actually,” Jimin corrects without missing a beat, the corners of his mouth curling into a playful smile.

“Evening?”

“You’re still recovering - slept right through.” He stands, creases left behind in the sheets. Slate grey in colour, they compliment the blue pillow covers that match the quilt under which you'd slept.

This really must be Jimin’s room. He crosses the floor to a nearby wardrobe, sliding it open, and with each step, each subtle movement, you can’t help but notice how graceful he is - how soft his footsteps are. From inside the wardrobe, he selects a smart black jacket to add to the crisp white shirt he’s already wearing. The fit of it accentuates his slender waist, as do the tight black jeans it’s tucked into.

“Are you going somewhere?” you ask as Jimin walks past you again, throwing you a sideways glance as he pulls the jacket on.

“Out.” Sitting down on the bed, he pulls a pair of Chelsea boots from underneath the frame, staring at you, unflinching, as he pulls them on. Your heart rate starts to creep upward from such intense eye contact, that blush reappearing on your cheeks.

Out? Does that mean… to feed? The thought of it makes your stomach turn unpleasantly, but it’s not the act itself that bothers you, it’s the image of Jimin getting so up close and intimate with someone other than you that has you suddenly rising from the chaise lounge. Wrist outstretched, you approach him with your reckless offering. He smirks, amused, head tilting to the side.

“You’re hungry, right?” you ask, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Go ahead.” You thrust your wrist forward again, licking your lips nervously, “Please.” Jimin exhales a sigh as he leans backwards on the bed, his legs spread open wide and that same smirk still stretched across his face.

“I appreciate the offer,” he says patiently, “But I’m fine. For now.” The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s considering it, though, despite what he says. He glances at your neck where the evidence of your last encounter still lingers but then tears his eyes away, swallowing heavily. “Besides, you’re still too weak.”

Self-conscious, you lower your wrist and wrap your arms around yourself instead, looking to the floor. Probably best not to dwell too much on why you suddenly feel so disappointed.

“Sit,” Jimin instructs, patting the space next to him. You do, trying for your own sake to leave a safe amount of distance; your thoughts tend to scramble whenever the two of you get too close. You pull at the hem of the t-shirt you assume must be Jimin’s, trying to make it cover a little more of your thighs. It doesn’t do much good.

“Jimin?” you say softly, glancing up from your lap to meet his watchful gaze, “Did you… undress me?”

“Should I have let Hoseok do it?” he asks with a laugh. You quickly shake your head and a smile tugs at Jimin’s lips, eyes twinkling. “You would’ve ended up with pneumonia if I’d let you sleep in those wet clothes.”

“Thank you.” You smile back, toying with the soft cotton between your fingers. It smells like him; the sweet smell of his aftershave you already know so well. The idea of him seeing you practically naked and so very vulnerable is more thrilling than it should be, and once again you find yourself blushing at the mental picture of Jimin undressing you that enters your head.

“I was about to go out and buy you some clothes of your own.” Jimin reaches out and tugs at the bottom of your t-shirt playfully. “That way you won’t have to keep wearing mine.” His fingertips brush your bare skin and just that small amount of contact has you biting your lip to keep from gasping.

“You don’t have to do that, I-“

“I want to.” Jimin’s eyes suddenly darken, smile dropping from his face as his gaze lowers to your thighs and then drifts slowly back upwards, lingering at your mid-section. He seems distracted, lost in thought; the very tone of his voice quickening your breath. “Want to see you in lace, silks and satin.” The intensity of his gaze as it meets your own is almost more than you can bear. You can’t even bring yourself to speak, simply nodding your agreement, tongue leaden in your mouth. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Uh…” You hesitate, clearing your throat. The moment is well and truly broken, distracted by the idea of Jimin strolling down an aisle of feminine hygiene products. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I could use my toiletry bag from home. It has all my… girl things-" You ignore the teasing smile that appears on Jimin's face, rubbing at the inside of your wrist as you continue, "-and all my medication from the hospital. I'm supposed to be taking iron." Jimin nods, about to stand when you quickly add, "And maybe some orange juice?" His head tilts to the side, entertained by the seeming randomness of your request. "It's supposed to help with absorption, apparently?"

"Glad to hear you're taking your health so seriously. You'll be back to strength in no time." Somehow, you get the feeling that it's not just for your sake that Jimin would be pleased if you made a speedy recovery - not if the way he keeps glancing at your neck as you tell him your address is anything to go by. He'd already found your keys; taken them from one of your pockets while he was undressing you, no doubt.

"Please, stay here 'till I get back," he tells you from the doorway, pausing there. "Sleep some more, watch TV, anything you like." Scanning the room, you see not just a TV but a laptop, too. There's also a small collection of what looks like graphic novels on his desk that you wouldn't mind taking a closer look at. "The others don’t know you’re here yet and I like to avoid any-" Jimin hesitates, and for the first time since you've met him he looks vaguely… uncomfortable?

“’Accidents?’” you supply with a wry smile, inverted commas implied. The smile you receive in reply is so sweet it makes your heart thump excitedly, endeared by the cherubic rounding of his cheeks and the crescent moon shape of his eyes.

“Exactly.” Pulling the door shut behind him with one last lingering look, Jimin's is gone and finally, you can breathe.

You flop back onto the bed with an incredulous laugh, spreading your limbs like a starfish as you gaze up at the ceiling. Is all of this even real? Could you somehow just be dreaming? Maybe you never really woke up in that hospital bed; this is all just some elaborate fantasy cooked up inside a coma. Part of you doesn't know what's scarier - the idea that it is all make-believe or that maybe, just maybe, you really are wide awake. What will life be like, living here with a vampire? Vampires . Plural. You can't even imagine what that might involve…

Well, you can imagine, but most of the images that pop into your head all begin and end with Jimin and this very bed… but…

What if he doesn’t even think of you in that way? What if the seduction was all part of his ploy to get you alone - to render you vulnerable? Maybe that’s how Jimin ensnares all of his victims; you can easily imagine how effective a technique that must be.

But then… his body had definitely responded to you, hadn't it? You'd felt him when he’d pulled you onto his lap, and surely that's not something he would've been able to fake? Not so convincingly, anyway.

No. He’d wanted you, you’re (semi) sure of it, and just the thought of being with Jimin like that again - of having him here stretched out next to you, lips cool against your skin, his delicate fingers tracing every curve…

Ok, you really need to stop thinking about that now.

Rolling onto your front, face down in the pillows, you try to ignore the self-induced ache between your legs. It’s so tempting to make a cocoon from his sheets - surround yourself with the smell of him - but you suspect that'll only worsen the situation. Instead, you roll back over and sit up, grabbing the TV remote from Jimin's bedside table in hopes of killing some time. You turn it on, volume down low, and it serves as a decent distraction for a little while - an hour or so wasted watching some mindless sitcom.

Eventually, though, your attention wanes and turns instead to your beautiful surroundings; the expensive-looking furniture and fixings that fill the tastefully decorated room, all monochrome shades with accents of silver and blues throughout. There's a little mess here and there - signs that the room is actually lived in - but for the most part, is pretty clean. Not a window in sight, though, which you suppose makes sense, if the limited pop-culture knowledge of vampires you have is to be believed.

Your curiosity piqued, you begin wandering around the room while the TV talks to itself in the background, inspecting all the little knicks and knacks dotted around. Jimin appears to have a rather large jewellery collection which, like everything else he owns, looks like it must've cost more money than you could ever dream of. How on earth does he afford it all, you wonder? Do vampires even have jobs? Or is it ancient wealth that's paid for all of this?

Eventually, you find yourself standing in front of Jimin's wardrobe, and though you know you’re being nosy - and though you know you really shouldn't - you slide it open and take a little peek inside. Jimin’s clothes are very much like his room for the most part; monochromes and blues, slim-fitting and tasteful. Interspersed amongst the classic tailoring, though, is the odd oversized sweater and long-sleeved tee in the softest shades of pastel pinks and peach. They catch you off guard, though you must admit Jimin does have very good taste, regardless. Hopefully, the clothes he picks out for you will be just as pretty…

You're just about to shut the wardrobe doors, curiosity sufficiently sated, when suddenly you hear voices outside of Jimin's door. Panic-stricken, you look this way and that for somewhere to hide as the voices become steadily louder, and you're seriously starting to consider climbing into Jimin's wardrobe when you hear -

“Hyung, I don’t think we should-“ It’s Hoseok, evidently trying to dissuade whoever this ‘Hyung’ is from entering the room. Unfortunately, he's unsuccessful, as but a second after the handle to Jimin's door turns and then swings open wide.

There wouldn’t have been any time to hide even if you’d have tried.

“I knew it!” With his hands on his hips and wide, triumphant smile, the unfamiliar vampire in the doorway looks far too pleased with himself for having caught you out. Trailing close behind, Hoseok looks flustered, harassed, and you watch as his posture deflates as he rounds the doorway and sees you standing frozen still like a rabbit in headlights for all the world to see.

This new vampire is slightly taller than Hoseok - broader in frame, too - but easily just as handsome. He has lips as thick and full as Jimin's yet the rest of his features are a little more masculine in their appearance - a striking contrast to the soft, pastel pink of his hair and the matching long-sleeved t-shirt he wears. It works, though. Oh, it definitely works.

"I knew the two of you were hiding something." Slowly, he steps into the room and comes a little closer, step by cautious step. He doesn't take his eyes off of you, not as you take a step back nor as you tug the hem of your t-shirt a little lower.

“Bet you didn’t think it'd be this,” Hoseok smirks as his companion puts his hands up in what you assume is supposed to be a non-threatening gesture. He’s approaching you like a wounded animal, as if he’s afraid you’ll dart and run at any second, and honestly, you’re not entirely sure you won’t.

The last time you were alone with Hoseok he almost attacked you, and there's no telling what this other vampire’s appetite might be like. He does have kind eyes, though, and his smile seems warm and genuine enough. At least that's what you hope…

Your back hits the wall behind you with a thud and mercifully, the handsome vampire also comes to a standstill, a safe distance kept.

“Hello,” he greets softly, lowering his hands. “I’m Jin." Hoseok makes your introductions for you and you're glad, given how tongue-tied you are. He watches the two of you from the doorway, hands in his pockets and thinly veiled amusement written all over his face. “It’s nice to meet you but… you knew she was here this whole time?” Jin questions, turning back to his friend. Hoseok shrugs, smiling nonchalantly, and Jin just rolls his eyes as he returns his attention to you. "Are you hungry?” he asks, and right on cue, your stomach decides to rumble.

It's no surprise, really. You've been asleep for almost 24 hours, apparently, so it's no wonder that you are. You smile shyly, cheeks warming with embarrassment, and Jin goodnaturedly smiles back.

“I can make you something if you’d like.” He offers his hand to you but all you can do is stare at it, somewhat wary still. Your instincts tell you Jin's someone you can be safe with, for now at least, but then again… your gut has been very wrong about these things before.

“… I don’t have any clothes to wear,” you reply after a moment, glancing down at your thighs, and it’s only then that Jin seems to notice your state of undress. He quickly averts his widened eyes; a kindness that only reinforces the good first impression he's made.

Hoseok, of course, is still staring, but in the meantime, Jin wastes no time in coming to your aid. He heads straight to one of Jimin's dresser drawers and rummages around until he finds a pair of grey sweatpants, handing them to you with a smile.

“May as well have the pants to match,” he jokes and you smile gratefully, pulling them on as Jin busies himself with turning off the TV and straightening Jimin’s pillows. “I can’t remember the last time I had someone to cook for,” he comments excitedly as he turns to leave, gesturing for you to come along. You start after him but then hesitate at the threshold, remembering Jimin’s parting words of warning.

“Jimin said I shouldn’t leave the room, in case-“ Hoseok cuts you off with a devilish grin, nudging his elbow into your side.

“Don’t worry, beautiful. We won’t bite.”

[reactivebangtan]

REQUEST: BTS reaction to their s/o having sweater paws when they give them their big hoodie to wear bc it's too cold in the dorms? 💘💘 REQUESTED BY: anonymous WARNINGS: nothing! NOTES: i tried to make it more body friendly for those who aren’t petite ( as these always seemed to be more aimed towards those who are tinier ), as well as more conscious of each boy’s own body shape/height/weight.

❝ are you sure you don’t need a blanket? ❞ coming in from the other room, jin had thought absolutely nothing of you asking to borrow one of his spare hoodies, as the chill in the dorm was substantial and you always seemed to forget one thing or another, your jacket being that something this time around. all you can do is giggle as he finally enters the living area and spots you all swaddled up on the farthest side of the couch:  ❝ no, i think you’ve got me covered. ❞ and, that he does — where his broad shoulders would fill out the top lining, it dips along the feminine slope of yours and slides down just the slightest bit to pool widely around your neck, all while the sleeves fall far past your fingers and the hem falls closer to your thighs rather than your hips. the smile that alights along his lips is positively radiant, more than simply happy to see you adorned in something of his, even more so by how mutual the feeling seems to be. he says nothing else — feels no reason to, as surely the look on his face says it all — as he moves swiftly towards you, practically throwing himself down next to you without so much as a peep ( the squeal he pulls out of you does have him laughing, though ) and wrapping his arms around you all in the same breath. pulling you in nice and tight, seokjin squeezes you to him and purrs with contentment when you simply slip into his hold and mold against his body like warm clay; he loves that about you, how easily you fold beneath his every whim, trusting he’d never use it against you ( and, he wouldn’t — he would never take advantage of you or your heart ). just as easily, one hand is sliding down the length of the sleeve laid loosely over your arm, only to start dragging it back until he can see the tips of your fingers peeking out — it’s here that he finds his safe space, his fingers interlocking between yours, the thick fabric of his hoodie pressed between you both in more ways than one.  ❝ as long as you’re warm. ❞

❝ ahh — that looks better on you than it does on me. ❞ normally, yoongi doesn’t like mixing work with pleasure, but he makes an exception every once and a while for you — you are, afterall, the only exception. and, as much as he hates the fuzzy feeling that fades into existence once his leg falls asleep, he adores when you sit in his lap and cuddle into him like the teddy bear that he is. as if the moment couldn’t get any better, you’d decided to throw on his hoodie over top of your t-shirt and pajama shorts, allowing the fabric to fall past your hips and brush the very edges of your fingertips ( he might be short by boy standards, but he was still such a stringbean — and, if that wasn’t enough, he seemed to like his shirts and jackets a little too big, always baggy on his own figure and surely so on your own, even if it’s only a little bit ). you look perfect, but then you always do in his eyes, and he’s more than happy to tell you so with a sideways compliment and a beckoning of his hand. you take your spot as fluidly as you breathe, and without thought, instantly wrapping your arms around his torso and wiggling up close enough so that your sides are pressed together. yoongi is always sure to wrap one arm around you, as well, fingers idly tracing patterns into the skin of your hip, just beneath the fabric of his own hoodie — knowing that it’s his, that a part of him is covering you, has him humming to himself, the sound thrumming warmly in his chest and vibrating against the weight of you — and the thin material of your shirt. his free hand sets upon the keyboard with fiery diligence, shifting to his mouse every once and a while, the music he seamlessly creates being produced through the speakers at a volume just low enough to have your eyes falling shut. it’s a slow melody, soothing and mellow in tone, and although there are no words just yet you can feel exactly what energy he’s put into it — he’s always had a way with speaking without words, whether it’s through musical notes or simply the look in his eyes — but no matter how gentle it is and how tempting the idea of sleep becomes, you remain awake enough to offer suggestions and answer his inquiries ( a trait he’s always loved about you, how you always keep him in mind even when your thoughts drift and it seems other things have clouded your senses — it’s as if his existence remains crystal clear to you, no matter what ). eventually, he stops long enough to take the moment in, looking down at you still swathed in his hoodie and seemingly so comfortable that you haven’t dared to move for more than half an hour, and he notes how well the situation matches the melody he’s trying so hard to emulate — a cherishable moment, something between fine lines, so soft that the edges are blurred and yet cloaked in a color of familiarity, a shade of this is mine, a hue of i’ll never forget. ❝ you know, i think seeing you like this has given me some inspiration. ❞

❝ just what are you trying to do to me? ❞ hoseok's voice is close to a whine when he questions you and your actions, bright eyes set upon your figure from across the room — he positively adores it when you wear anything of his, even if it’s just a single sock. how did you expect him to react to you sidling up in one of his favorite hoodies? it seems, though, from the mirthful simper set upon your lips, that you knew exactly how he’d react, and the cocky sway of your hips as you approach him only confirms that. the fabric is just long enough to cover the material of your pajama shorts and reveals the rest of your legs in a teasing show, the hem lifting just slightly with every step, and only the tips of your fingers peek out from the end of the sleeves. it’s enough to have him reaching for you before you’re even in front of him, hands deadset on grasping onto your thighs and beckoning you closer with a tug, those warm eyes rising to meet your own — his fingers play with the hem of the hoodie and tickle your skin with little butterfly kisses, skimming along the tops of your thighs and skimming down to cradle just above your knees. he doesn’t have to say it, doesn’t even really need to look at you to convey what he wants — the pull of his hands and the grin on his face is always enough, he’s always enough — and you do so almost instantly by placing one knee on either side of his thighs and settling into his lap like you were meant to be there ( as far as he’s concerned, you absolutely were ). admiring you for a moment more, sat there so primly in clothing that undoubtedly still held traces of his scent, of his ownership ( therefore adorning you in it, too ), he lets his grin morph into something warmer, something softer, something so affectionate that it burns at the back of your eyes and seizes the air in your lungs all at once. to say he loves you would be an understatement, but there’s no word to describe exactly how he feels about you, especially when you do adorable little things like this — especially when you do adorable little things like this for him. knowing that, knowing that this is for him and him alone, contents him more than he probably realizes. he hums, and then, with a squeeze of his hands to your hips: ❝ i think i’d be okay with staying like this for the rest of our lives. ❞

❝ you’re so cute. ❞ said gently, softly, a whisper in the otherwise unbothered silence of the bedroom. the moment you’d asked him to read to you, he knew you were tired — with nothing to do tomorrow and no reason to stay up late, it was the perfect scenario for you to fall inhto a deep sleep and stay that way until late afternoon the next day, always lulled into such by the gentle baritone of his voice. you always said it was something about how he spoke, the way everything seemed to roll off his tongue with a certain warmth, how every word seemed to have more depth and how each held a story of their own. of course, he’d meant to come to bed sooner rather than later, but he’d gotten too caught up in his work to see you off exactly the way you’d wanted, and you’d made up for his absence in other ways. for starters, the hoodie wound around your figure and covered solely by your blanket was his — one of his favorites, actually, and one sure to smell like him — and you’d taken to his side of the bed rather than your own. he, of course, notes how well the color compliments your skin and how all that extra room has only served to twist and turn as you do, encasing you in tighter and tighter with each little movement ( he makes sure to pull the fabric out from under you so you lay more comfortably, but you roll over again only a few moments later and get yourself all wound up again — all he can do is chuckle ), and how you continued to breathe him in through the fabric of the sleeves pulled taut to your nose. the whole situation seemed sweetly symbolic — you’d always been the type to so freely be his, wearing your relationship on your sleeve as openly as your heart, and he supposes adorning yourself in him and his is only part of that. shuffling in beside you, he takes to pulling you in close enough to wrap one arm around you, nuzzling his nose into your hair and breathing you in. if anyone were ever to ask, he would gladly admit to never growing tired of this — of you — because you slept enough for the both of you. ❝ sleep well. ❞

❝ is that my hoodie? ❞ by the smile painted on his mouth you know you don’t need to answer his question, but you give a sheepish nod, anyway. in the end, though, you’re glad you did, because his grin widens impossibly and his eyes seem to glitter in the lowlight of the dorm. utter and complete solace fills his chest when you do things like this, as if you’re silently affirming to the fact that you’re his and his alone. his name wasn’t on that hoodie, there was no indication that it was truly his, but somehow it felt as if you were wearing your relationship like a badge upon your body — like you were proud to show it off, to let others know, to be his. maybe it was the clingy side of him, the side that needed affection at all hours of the day, but something in him quieted at the sight of you sitting there on the couch; it would become noisy again soon enough, he’d be hyperaware of it eventually, but none of that seemed to matter right then. sure, you probably really did it because you were cold, and because you probably forgot your jacket on your way over to the dorms, but it was all just fine details in the face of his overwhelming affection for you. finding his way to your side is always easy, but it seems even easier then, and easier still to find your hand within all that fabric and interlock his fingers with yours. always, as if by gravitational pull, you lean into one another and relax against the weight of the other as if nothing in the world is more simple and you couldn’t be bothered to be anywhere else. a thumb runs across your knuckles and you feel the gentle brush of his nose against your temple as he sighs into your skin and you swear you’ve never seen him quite this happy. ❝ you should wear my things more often. ❞

❝ i’m cold, too, you know. ❞ taehyung states it so matter-of-factly that there’s no room to argue, even if he’s already decked out in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, topped off with a sweatband and fluffy socks ( does this boy ever leave his loungewear? ), all of which he’s worn the entirety of the day. there’s no smile on his face, but the lilt in his tone is enough to alert you that he’s more than amused by the situation at hand, and you’re already well-aware that he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth. upon finding you bundled up beneath the covers and adorned with the closest hoodie you could find ( which was haphazardly thrown on the floor, and therefore ripe for the taking ), he dove right in next to you and curled around you like it was second-nature — at this point in your relationship, it probably is — simultaneously worming his hands beneath hem of the hoodie and planting them firmly on the warm skin hidden beneath. his touch is always teasing but delicate, fingers mirroring your squirming and wiggling, privy to dragging giggles and little, breathless chants of his name out of you. fighting him is as pointless as it is impossible, but you never bother to even try in the first place, far too pleased to cater to his desire for attention, whether it be giving or receiving ( and regardless of whether it is, by some definitions, good or bad ). once his initial teasing dies down and the peace of the moment finally settles in the otherwise quiet and undisturbed atmosphere of his bedroom, you find his thumb sliding back and forth against the curve of your hip and his free hand to be playing with the hem of the hoodie you’d decided to borrow for the evening. strangely enough, he’d never found the fabric to be as comforting as he does now, but somehow the feel of it has changed now that it adorns your body and not his, even if the shape has stayed mostly the same. with such a slight build and small frame, everything from the shoulders to the waist seem to accommodate your own body shape perfectly, even if the material of the sleeves hangs past your wrists and the hem sits below your hips. taehyung is unbothered by telling you that look as cute as you do, his smile finally revealing itself when your reaction is to hide half your face in the hoodie and tell him to stop. it wouldn’t be taehyung, though, if he didn’t do the exact opposite — in fact, he escalates by starting to pepper your face in kisses and still managing to compliment you between each one until you’re breathless from laughing and tucking yourself so far into the fabric surrounding your head that he’s eventually simply nuzzling into that instead of your reddened skin ( ‘ you’re — so — cute! ‘ ). eventually, he does take mercy on you and instead takes to cuddling up close enough to actually make you complain about the heat you both now share ( though you make no move to get away ), and he’s mumbling sleepily into your hair:  ❝ mm — warm. ❞

❝ i was only gone for five minutes — did you really miss me that much? ❞ seeing you in his hoodie is far more than amusing, but he tries to act like it doesn’t effect him as much as it does. the cocky smile on his face is enough to get you to toss the closest pillow at him, only for him to catch it right before it hits his face with the sort of giggle you love to hate. once he actually settles down next to you, though, and gets a good look at you his smile melts into something much softer — your attention is on the movie, but he can’t be bothered to watch it when he’s got you sitting there with a hoodie three times your size practically swallowing you up ( granted, he only ever buys shirts, jackets and hoodies when they’re two times his size, but i digress ). the sleeves were far too long for your arms and the hoodie itself was made for a larger build than you’ve got to offer, the heavy fabric draped over you almost lazily, as if it can’t be bothered to cling to you as it should. he can see a tease of your shoulder and the delicious expanse of your thighs and it’s more than enough to have him sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down on it to keep his grin from widening any further than it already has. such a task becomes impossible when you nuzzle your face into the front and subconsciously inhale the scent still lingering on the fabric, and how your body seems to relax immediately afterwards, shoulders falling and your head coming to rest against his shoulder. it becomes even more impossible to keep from leaning his head against yours, and allowing his eyes to flutter closed after a moment or two, breathing you in and easing his body into you. unknowingly, his hands wander over your form, fingertips brushing against the material of the hoodie and sliding over the exposed bits of skin closest to him, humming when you shift into his palm or flex against his touch; such a thing is a habit of his, one you aren’t entirely sure he’s aware of, until he mumbles in your ear: ❝ i love you. ❞

[tayrae515imagines]

You Were Mine (Part Two) 2/5

Requested: Yes by the lovely @stydia-4-ever

Hey 61,62,64 & 81 please lots of angst and a happy ending or whatever you feel like doing thank you. Oh and I forgot, for Bucky.

Warnings: Cursing, Depressing themes, Angst. Mentions of cheating -kinda-

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Fem! Reader

Summary: The news of Bucky’s death caused you to spiral into a world of misery until one night in your apartment with the news on you see him and vow to do anything to prove he is alive. Through all kinds of twists and turns, you feel your life becoming more complex than ever before. Is Bucky really dead? Had he just left you? How much more screwed up could life get? The answer is much, much more.

Prompt 61- “You broke up with me! Remember?”

Prompt 62- “I’m so over you.”

Prompt 64- “I love you! You dick!”

Prompt 81- “It’s me. Everything will be okay.”

Authors Note: Thanks for your request! Hope you like it! Sorry, it took so long.

I had multiple drafts of this but finally came up with an idea I could be proud of. However, in order to execute it how I wanted, I need to make multiple parts. 

I apologize this took so long! I know I said I would post it Wednesday night but I got caught up with things and then thanksgiving and blah blah. I’m sorry.

BIG SHOUT OUT to @draco-deservedbetter for giving me ideas for this fic when I had major writers block. You are amazing and I adore you! Follow this lovely lady right now!!

Intro l Part One l Part Three I

Closure, by definition, is an individual's desire for a firm answer to a question and an aversion toward ambiguity. It’s the end to unfinished business, the way things stop and bring peace to exhausted minds. Its the thing many crave after breakups, termination, but mostly death.

For many closure falls in place as the body does its casket. It seals and dries in place like cement. It comes when you know in all certainty the dead is dead, and when you don’t have that certainty or that closure that’s when the pain comes. Stronger than ever before because your already exhausted mind is plagued with what if’s.

What if I said this? What if I changed that? What if they were still here? But at the end of the day, they aren’t there. Or in your case, you didn't think they were. 

The need to feel closure burned at your skin and set all your nerves on fire. You craved it, needed it. You hadn't known exactly what you saw on the television but in the back of your mind, you felt it was Bucky. But whether it was or wasn't you couldn't just sit around and think what if. 

You needed to be certain. 

That was how you ended up on a plane going to London. It was impulsive and sudden but that was where you had seen him so that was where you would go. You had left in the middle of the night leaving Steve a half-assed note you knew he’d be pissed about later. You didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was Bucky. Even though you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up, you did. You needed him and the remote possibility he could be alive was enough to spark your hope. You didn’t know how it was possible, you didn't care. He was alive, he needed to be. 

As the plane touched down your heart skipped a beat. You were here, you were one step closer. One step closer to find your lost love or one step closer to heartbreak. Honestly, the line between the two was very fine. What if finding him meant heartbreak? You had to remind yourself it was worth it to know he was alive. 

With a deep breath and your bag in hand, you made your way off the plane and out of the airport, starting in your descent to where you needed to be. To where you had seen the dark hair and familiar figure that led you here and you started your search. 

The day was now fading into night and the cold bite the winter air held caused goosebumps to rise on your skin.  You had been searching for hours with no luck. Faces among faces had passed you but none of them held the dark blue eyes and prominent features belonging to your loved one. None of them were Bucky. 

Defeat was becoming evident in your features as you sat on a snow covered bench taking in your surroundings. Couples held each other under the street lamps as snow fell on their faces, arms wrapped around each other as if acting as life support for one another. You could practically feel their love radiating through your cold bones and cracking your hollow interior. 

You could feel the way Bucky used to hold you when you two were out in public. His flesh arm wrapped around you, tucking you into his side as he kept his metal arm free ready to hurt anything that came to take you away. His biggest fear was that you would get taken from him but you never thought about the possibility he’d get taken from you. It just didn’t seem like something that would ever happen. 

But it did.

Tears you had been pushing down for so long started making their way to your (y/e/c) eyes. They fogged your vision and burned on your cold cheeks, leaving wet streaks over the pink flesh. Your heart clenched tighter and tighter with every shaky breath you let out. Your lungs burned through the cold air to let out strangled sobs and soon you were hyperventilating. The cold air seeping further into your throat and burning at your lungs causing you to struggle for air. All the pain had come back this time stronger than ever before because you were truly alone. 

“Oh. Love what happened? How can I help?” 

A feminine voice laced with a British accent rang through your ears. Lifting your heavy head your gaze shifted from the snow covered pavement to a pair of green eyes and light brown hair, both attached to porcelain skin. 

 “N-nothing I’m fine.”

The words left your throat shakier then you had liked when you lifted (your now wet from the snow) sleeve to wipe away your fallen tears. 

“Don’t lie. I know a panic attack when I see one.”

“I had a panic attack?” 

The question was mostly directed at yourself. You’ve never had one before so you weren’t sure what it had felt like. But you were certain you never wanted to feel it again. 

“Yes dear you did. Here you shivering let me help you.”

“No it’s fine. I have a hotel room. It’s just a while away. I can walk there.”

“Nonsense. At least come back to my flat and get cleaned up then my fiance can drive you to your hotel.”

You wanted to say no. Not only was it stranger danger but you didn’t feel like playing nice. You were both physically and mentally exhausted but you were also freezing. The snow had melted on your jacket causing your clothes to dampen and your skin to start freezing and nothing sounded nicer than a heated room and warm blanket.

With a small nod you let her lead you to her apartment. It was relatively close, only a block from the park you had previously been at. Which was good considering you couldn’t feel your legs anymore. Once at her door she stopped to pull out her keys making brief conversation with you. 

“I’m Bridgette by the way.”

“(Y/N).” 

You stated moving your hands up to rub your arms. With a quick turn of the key she pushed open the door and the heat from inside pulled you in. You could feel your tightened muscled loosening as the heat defrosted your body. 

Bridgette came up behind you and took your coat hanging it on the coat rack to dry. She quickly replaced your coat with a plush blanket and started a pot of tea.

“You stay here and warm up. I’ll find my fiance.”

With a smile you nodded and sat on one of the lounge chairs, sighing contently at your now relaxed muscles. You could hear Bridgette from the hallway calling for, who you could only imagine to be her fiance.

“Jamie? Baby are you home?”

“I’m right here doll.”

Doll. 

It wasn’t just the word alone that sent your heart into a state of furious beating, it was the voice. You’d know it anywhere. 

Quickly you stood and turned around to face the hall you heard the voices, dropping the blanket to the ground you walked slightly closer. 

“We have company. Come meet her.”

You could see the shadows move under the hallway lap making their way towards you. You felt as if your heart was going to burst. Your emotions where all over the place and small tears resurfaced at the bottom of your eyes. 

Back in your line of sigh came a giddy Bridgette holding the hand of another person still hidden by the shadows of the hall. 

“(Y/N). This is my fiance James.”

Like a sudden breeze of the wind the man emerged from the dark and you felt your heart stop beating. You could practically hear the flat line of a cardiac monitor telling you, you were dying. That was sure as hell what you felt like when your (y/e/c) eyes came in contact with the stormy shade of dark blue that used to look at you with such admiration. 

“B-Bucky? You're alive?”

The words left your mouth in a quiet squeak and you couldn't believe what you were hearing. He was alive. You had been right. 

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?”

His voice sounded just as distraught. Pain filled the small space as it crushed your heart. You let your gaze move to the small porcelain hand sitting on his flesh shoulder, more so the large sparkling ring that matched her dazzling smile. 

“You’re engaged?”

The words were louder this time holding a strong tone of disbelief and and undertone of hurt. Bucky’s eyes burned holes into yours and you could feel his desperation and see the guilt in his eyes. It was nothing compared to the hurt you held in the moment. Any and all compassion you had left burned into dust along with your heart when the dark blue eyes meant yours.

You were right about one thing. Finding him meant finding heart break, only you didn’t know it would hurt this bad. 

Taglist:

@petah-parkah-and-potahtas @messrs-howler @xxladybananaxx @lesfleurslily @hp-world-imagines @lovely-geek 

[coldace24]

After The Machine War; Code V.I.S.U.A.L.

The descent felt nerve wracking, both because it was a long fall, and because I was headed to unknown territory alone. Inside the drop pod, there was only darkness, where each shudder and quake could be felt as metal cut through air. Without warning, the impact came, and as unprepared as I was, I accidentally bit my lip. I could feel the pod roll around a few times, tossing and turning me around, almost making me feel nauseous, when it finally stopped and settled.

Hydraulics took over and the pod exhumed air, opening the door in front of me and pushing me out. Sand was the first thing I saw, falling towards it and landing on it face first. I sat up and brushed it off while I scanned my surroundings, soon realizing that I was in the midst of a large, windy desert, with the sun glaring from up high. The pod's hydraulics started to work again, opening up its side, revealing a gun rack with two Desert Eagle magnum handguns; one jet black, and the other metallic white.

They've been upgraded to match the advanced mainframe, huh. I thought to myself as I holstered them, noticing how they've become a bit bulkier than last time. It was around that moment when I realized that my body felt lighter than usual, and I had more strength in my arms and legs; perhaps the high specs of the mainframe allowed for a greater range of movement.

I checked the comms line on my earpiece, but all I gathered were static noises on every channel. Either the area was a shadow zone where our signal couldn't reach, or there was signal jamming within the vicinity. The latter had a higher probability.

Sand was starting to gather around my feet, hinting that staying at my current location would have me buried under the sands in no time. From far away, I could make out the silhouette of a structure, perhaps a building of sorts, and seeing how there was nothing else around me but sand, I decided it was best to head towards that way. At the start of my jog, just a few steps from where I started, I noticed a glint coming from a mound of sand in front of me. Interest and curiosity took over, and I started digging through it and found a small card-like chip, around the size of a coin; on its surface were the faded letters O, S, and C. Figuring I might have a use for it sooner or later, I stuffed it inside my pocket and continued on walking.

The huge silhouette turned out to be the ruins of an old building, with sand starting to cover half its surface as if slowly being swallowed. Somewhere along its side was a crack on the wall large enough for me to fit through, leading to a small room inside. I went in and sat down on the floor, taking quick breaths and resting after the long walk under the scorching sun. From the corner of my eye, I noticed something buried along the piled up sand in the corner of the room. There was a large, black container, somehow resembling a wide refrigerator, propped up against the wall. Again, curiosity prevailed, so I approached the container and brushed off the sand on its surface, revealing distorted inscriptions; the only letter I could make out was a large Y, and the rest were all smudges.

Beside its door-like structure was a busted screen, some buttons, and a blinking green light. I thought perhaps the container might have some things I could make use of, so I tinkered with it to try and get it to open. With a random mash of all the available buttons, the door's hydraulics started to move, releasing air and finally opening upward. What awaited inside was a surprise; a body of a woman. She had silver hair, and wore a black, gothic dress, reminiscent of that of a french maid. It was hard to tell if she was alive or not, as there was no visible movement, yet her skin felt warm and alive when I touched. Her eyes were covered by a black blindfold, and that somehow made me want to take a peek. As my fingers neared the dark cloth, the container started to buzz, making me jump back in surprise.

"<Visual Data Output Error>" The container started to speak in a raspy, robotic voice.

"<Switching To Audio Data Output>"

"<Commencing Systems Check>"

"<Error>"

"<OS Chip Unavailable>"

"<Awaiting Input>"

"<...>"

A small hatch opened up beneath the broken screen, revealing a small, black box, around the size of a fist. The box popped up and from its surface, opened up a small slot.

"OS Chip...?" I thought to myself. It was then that I remembered about the card I picked up on the way. I pulled it out from my pocket, and inspected the letters written on its surface.

"O-S-C.... OS Chip...?"

I held it up against the slot on the black box, and surprisingly, it seemed like a perfect fit, so I pushed it in and waited for the magic to happen. The box swallowed it and closed the slot, then pulled back into the hatch.

"<Input Accepted...>"

"<Restarting Operations...>"

"<...>"

The green light started to blink furiously.

"<Commencing Systems Check>"

"<Memory Unit: Green>"

"<Initializing Tactics Log>"

"<Loading Geographic Data>"

"<Vitals: Green>"

"<Remaining MP: 100%>"

"<Black Box Temperature: Normal>"

"<Black Box Internal Pressure: Normal>"

"<Activating IFF>"

"<Activating FCS>"

"<Initializing Pod Connection>"

"<Launching DBU Setup>"

"<Activating Inertia Control System>"

"<Activating Environmental Sensors>"

"<Equipment Authentication: Complete>"

"<Equipment Status: Green>"

"<All Systems Green>"

"<Combat Preparations Complete>"

"<...>"

The hatch opened again and the black box popped out, though this time it sat still, as if waiting for it to be taken. I slowly reached out to it, and just as my finger touched it, a white blur snatched it away.

"You should be well advised to refrain contact with another android's black box." Said a feminine voice from beside me. The woman who had been motionless a while ago was now standing in front of me, the black box on her white-gloved hand. I jumped back, quickly unholstered my handguns, and aimed at her, but before I could figure out her intent, she had already hidden the black box out of my sight. She turned to me, and continued to stare for a few moments.

"Why are you aiming at me?" She asked. "Are we not both Androids, and as such, allies?"

Then, as if remembering something, she jerked back, moving into a fighting stance resembling martial arts; her feet planted hard on the ground, and her fists raised towards me.

"You...don't tell me you have the logic virus." She said, sounding a bit desperate.

"The what?" Her statement had me confused, all the more that she had labeled me as an android. For a while, she seemed to stare at me, though quite frankly I wasn't sure because of the blindfold, and after a few moments, her shoulders seemed to relax.

"It seems not." She gave out a sigh of relief and dropped her fists. "Your eyes aren't red."

"Sorry, but...I have no idea about what you just said." I remarked as I holstered the handguns. "And just to put it out there, I'm not an android. I'm human."

"Human....?" Her tone sounded of disbelief. "Impossible. Humans went extinct a long time ago."

"But it's true. I swear."

She turned towards me and walked closer to inspect, her lips pressed together in doubt as she started to analyze.

"I cannot seem to detect any electromagnetic emissions from within you, nor do I find any implications of cybernetics to your body." Her lips opened up, as if in awe, as she started to reach out to my face. "Is that...blood?"

Her hand touched my face, wiping off the blood on my lip with her thumb, then bringing it closer to her face.

"It seems genuine. Perhaps you speak the truth." She said as she stepped back.

"Do you mind explaining things to me? I'm kind of confused with what you've been saying." I asked.

"Were you not aware of the machine war?" She waited for my reply, but all I had was silence, so she continued. "For years, we Androids have been fighting against Machines, puppets that the aliens use, so that we may take back the earth for mankind. But by the end of the fourteenth machine war, we learned that humans had long been extinct, and thus, we lost our purpose."

"But we aren't extinct. I'm human, and I'm here. Well and Alive." I said as I pointed to myself.

"Then perhaps our fight wasn't in vain after all." She seemed to smile as she spoke. From behind her, she pulled out the black box, and started to inspect it.

"So what is that black box?" I asked.

"This black box is the core of an android. It is what contains our systems and data, and in some cases, our last resort." She explained as she held it up to eye level. "I'd like to thank you for reactivating me. Though, I'm afraid there might have been some complications."

"Complications?" My eyebrows furrowed. "But that black uh...thingy said all systems were green."

"It's true that I am at operational level, and my functionality is of expected values." She started moving her arms around. "But this body...this isn't mine."

"Uhhh...what?"

"I've run a check on its digital signatures, and the results show this belonged to <YoRHa No. 2 Type B> an all-purpose battle type android of YoRHa." She started tinkering with the black box. "This body was a spare, and coincidentaly, it was missing its OS Chip."

"Then who are you? I mean, you know, the one I put in the body."

"<YoRHa No. 11 Type G> specialized long-range gunner type android of YoRHa."

"I...see...nice to meet you then. I'm Ray by the way." I held out my hand for a handshake, but all she did was stare at me. For a moment, there was an awakward silence between us, then I decided to retract my hand.

"So this Yo-.....the owner of that body-" I quickly followed up to break the ice.

"2B. Her callsign." She corrected me.

"This 2B, what happened to her?"

"From what I can gather from the data left, it seems she had fallen to the logic virus just like the rest of the androids."

"And...what's the logic virus, exactly?"

"A virus created by the machines that forced androids to attack their own allies."

"I see. So, how come you're not affected by the virus?"

"Before the virus reached my core, I ejected my OS Chip to prevent the virus from taking over my body." There was a brief pause, then she continued. "I...didn't want to kill my comrades."

She seemed fidgety, like how humans get when they're anxious, and didn't want to talk about things, so I decided not to pry any further about it. It occured to me that perhaps she had information about my mission that I could use, so I started asking her about it.

"Um, Miss...."

"You can call me 11G (Eleven G)." She smiled a bit.

"Uh...Miss 11G, do you know anything about a singularity virus?"

"Is that a jest?" Her lips pursed

"I'm...actually serious. I'm not talking about the logic virus you had mentioned earlier, I'm talking about a virus that stands independently on its own. It can even control other viruses, and sometimes machines."

"I'm afraid I have no data of such a virus." She shook her head.

"I see. That's too bad then." Of course it wouldn't be that easy, I thought to myself.

"I may not have the information you're looking for, but I can offer you my assistance in searching." She said as she took a step closer towards me. "I was created to serve mankind. Order me so, and I shall assist you."

"You'll help me?" I asked.

She gave me a nod, then she closed her feet together and placed her left hand over her chest.

"Glory to mankind."

° ° °

"You said you were a gunner type, right?" I asked her as we started walking out into the desert.

"Affirmative."

"Well if that's how it is, then I'm lending you Columba." I said as I handed her the white handgun.

"This is..." She took the gun and inspected it. "This seems to be an obsolete model. I am unsure of its efficiency."

"Yeah well, it gets the job done." I grinned. "You'd be surprised at how effective it is when shooting through armor."

I took off one of the holsters and gave it to her along with a couple of magazines for extra ammunition. She strapped it onto her right leg where her skirt had a large, open slit, placing it just a few inches below her hips. We went on walking for a while, with her guiding me towards the edge of the desert until we finally made it out into hard, solid ground, surrounded by large rocks, as if they'd been formed into walls, leading us down a path that brought us through a cavern and out into the open city, or at least what was left of it.

The area was a literal concrete jungle; old, ruined buildings and towers were riddled with plant life, overgrown grass was spreading out everywhere, and trees seemed to reach out towards the skies.

"So tell me, how do you see with that blindfold on?" I asked her as we walked inside the jungle-city.

"This is a standard military visor for YoRHa Androids." She said as she placed her finger on it. "It allows us to see data along with our vision. It does not actually hinder our sight, but rather enhances it."

"A blindfold visor, huh?" I gave out a small laugh. "That's kinda cool."

From the corner of my eye, I could see her hiding a smile, and that made me wonder just how much an android could seem so human. Along our path, we stumbled upon chunks of metal, one of them was a round piece with slits that seemed to produce a face, something like a mask of sorts. I noticed that the pieces lying around seemed to mimic robotic limbs, and that perhaps, if put together would form something.

"These are machines." Said 11G as she kicked over what seemed like a robot's leg. "Though they're only remains, and are dysfunctional."

"These were what you fought against?" I picked up the metal mask, showing it to her as I asked the question, and she, in turn, nodded.

"Well, let's just be glad we don't have to fight them anymore." I threw the mask away and continued on walking. The metal mask clanged and rolled until it bumped against another piece, then from its slits came out oil, dripping across its surface, as if it was crying. The sound of metal scraping against concrete rose in volume, catching our attention and making us turn around. In front of us stood a few dozen mangled robots; most made from scrap metal pieced together, some missing their limbs and other parts but somehow holding up. The slits that acted as their eyes seemed to glow red as oil trickled down from them.

"...Ki...ll...Kill...Kill...Kill..." The machines started to screech the words over and over again as they started approaching us, arms extended with the murderous intent. From beside me, came a gunfire, followed by the sound of a metal clang in front. One of the mangled machines had fallen down, with a hole between its dead eyes. I turned towards the android, just in time to see her fire three more shots, putting down three other machines. I quickly unholstered my gun and started shooting too, taking down one machine for each bullet.

After firing off seven shots, I popped the magazine for a quick reload, when one of them sprung up on me from my side. Before it could reach me, the android burrowed her heel on the machine's face, with force strong enough to split the metal creature in two, sending it flying in pieces. From behind her came two more, jumping with arms extended for the kill. With her free hand, she grabbed the first one and slammed it to the ground, crumpling it, then with her planted arm, she lifted her lower body, pivoting around to perform a spinning kick, breaking the other machine. Upon setting down her feet to the ground, she had her gun pointed at the remaining machines, firing off the remaining ammunition in her magazine.

Amused at her performance and display of skill, I decided not to hold back. The bracers on my hand extended, forming metal gauntlets that covered my hands; along with my metal boots, my brawling set was complete and ready to go all out. I rushed at one of the machines, sweeping its legs, and as it fell, I grabbed it by the arm and flung it to another machine, shooting through both of them with a single bullet. Another machine rushed at me, which I intercepted with a simple left jab. Upon impact, the gauntlet's mechanism clicked, releasing a force like a pile driver slamming down on concrete, pummeling the machine into a crumpled mess.

We started picking off the machines around two or three at a time with a combination of brawling and shooting, until all that was left of the machines were crumpled scraps of junk. I took a deep breath as I holstered the gun and turned towards 11G, who in turn was kneeling down on the ground inspecting the remains.

"I thought you said they were dysfunctional." I questioned her.

"I do not understand. How could they have moved?" She sounded puzzled, and I was sure that if I could see beneath her visor, her eyebrows would have been furrowed.

"It's just a theory but...it might be because of the singularity virus." I quoted to ease her confusion.

"Then it is nearby?"

"Not sure. For all we know, it can control things from a mile away. That's the problem with singularities, they're unpredictable, and they're never the same with any other."

"...I see. That's quite problematic."

"Yeah." I retracted my gauntlet and held out my hand to her. "Come on, we've got a lot of area to search through."

There was silence as I waited for her to reach out to my gesture; this time, not retracting my hand as I waited patiently. I wasn't sure if she understood what my intent was, but I had hoped she would at least discover what it meant. Then finally, after a few moments, she started to reach out her hand and placed it over mine. Grasping gently, I pulled her up until she stood just a few inches in front of me; probably close enough for her to feel my breath. Perhaps too close.

I could see features of her eyes through the visor, which was more transparent up close than I expected. She cleared her throat, which is probably something that androids don't do, or don't need to do, so I took that as a hint and stepped back.

For the next few moments, we continued to walk, our hands still holding on to each other. Unsure if it was her intention, or if she even noticed or not, I went along with it quietly. We had almost reached the end of the city, where the edge seemed to be a cliff that dropped down towards an area filled with fog.

A few meters towards it, trailing behind the pretty android in front of me, I noticed the ground shook a little. I turned to her, but she didn't seem to notice. Then, another shake, this time a tad bit stronger, followed by another one of much greater force.

"What IS that?" I pulled back her hand, to which she turned to me in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Can't you feel it?" I asked, sounding a bit anxious. "The ground...it's shaking."

She knelt down, feeling the ground with her free hand while the other still held mine. In the next few moments, the shaking of the ground arrived in waves, like an earthquake sending out ripples through the earth. Before I could ask anything, she tackled me away, about a good five meters from where we previously were. A heavy shockwave sent dirt flying everywhere, and in front of us, on the spot where we were before, was a hulking mass of scrap metal. A machine, standing around twelve feet tall, had landed with great impact, it's hands the size of a sedan, and its red eyes, trickling oil down its metal face, was glaring daggers at us.

The static noises in my earpiece started to spike, like the screeching of a wild animal. This thing's the signal jammer? I looked up at the monster in front of me once more.

"You've gotta be kidding me..." The words just spilled out of my mouth. The android pulled me up to stand, and as the towering machine took its first step towards us, she tightened her grip on my hand.

"Alright then..." I said as I squeezed back. How about you and I bring this big baddie down, huh?"

She smirked at my statement, and I couldn't help but laugh. As it approached us, we drew our handguns and all hell broke loose. A gigantic fist came crashing down on us, but we were quick enough to seperate and dodge aside. I aimed and pulled the trigger, puncturing holes on the side of its humongous body, but that didn't even faze it. It kept its sight locked onto 11G, swinging around its metal arms like an angry gorilla. The android kept pace, dodging away at the last second of every strike. At each time she dodged, her whole body seemed to blur, and it's as if mirror images of her appear, making her harder to track, even for me.

A disgruntled bellow came from the metal creature as it pulled back its right arm and smashed its knuckle towards the android's direction. Dust filled the air, then from it emerged 11G, running on top of the machine's arm as she aimed at its head, emptying a whole magazine and filling its face with holes. As it tried to swat her away, I hurriedly ran towards the metal creature's leg, extending my gauntlets and throwing a jab at its ankle joint. The gauntlet's mechanism clicked, shoving extensive force upon the interlinked metal, crumpling it like tin can. The loud noise of creaking metal filled the air, and the metal giant's body slowly descended. I quickly ran to safety, and from the corner of my eye, I saw the android jump off and roll away as the hunking mass of metal crashed onto the ground, spilling dirt everywhere. In just a matter of moments, before the dust could even settle, the machine started to push itself back up with its arms. I searched for 11G, but the dust  was making it hard to see. Then, from behind me, I heard her voice.

"We're not done here yet."

I turned around to find the android, alive and still in one piece, but her black dress was torn up in places, and her blindfold visor was missing. Gazing at me were her brilliant blue eyes that were the shade of the sky, and I was at a loss for a moment. The loud screeching of metal grinding together brought me back to my senses.

"What should we do?" I asked her, trying my best not to stare into her eyes.

"We need to crush its head." She answered like it was an easy feat.

"Alright then....how?"

"Give me a boost." She said as she tapped my shoulder and began to ran towards the giant. Along the way, she picked up a thick sheet of metal, then started to climb up the machine's foot. I waited down below, not entirely sure of what to do, when she suddenly jumped down, holding the sheet of metal beneath her feet.

"Give me a boost". Her previous words rung in my head, and I laughed at the thought. For an android, you sure are crazy. I pulled back my right arm, waiting until she was a few feet above me, then slammed my fist at the sheet of metal, activating the gauntlet's mechanism. The force pushed her up, albeit crumpling the sheet of metal in the process, making her fly through the air. Just as the machine was almost upright, 11G's heels fell straight down its face, pushing it back down and slamming its head hard on the ground.

I ran towards the crash site, finding bits and pieces of scrap metal lying around. Again, there was dust everywhere, and visibility was low. I found the machine's face, crushed like a pulp, with bolts and wires sticking out. Just how heavy IS she to be able to crush it this much? After spending a good while inspecting the wreckage, there was still no sign of the android.

"11G!" I started to call out, but there was still no response. Anxiety started to fill me, tightening my chest as I imagined the worst possible scenario.

"Unbelievable." I heard her voice. I turned around to find her stumbling out of the wreckage, a drape of black cloth in her hand. She started to head towards me, looking somehow distressed.

"11G!" I shouted as I ran towards her. "Are you alright?"

She flinched, looking surprised as she met my gaze.

"Y-Yes, I'm alright."

I breath a sigh of relief, placing my hand on her shoulder. "That's good. For a moment there, I thought you were gone."

"I was looking for this." She held up the black cloth to her chest, placing it in my field of vision.

"My visor... It broke." Her lips pursed.

"Oh...that's uh...too bad." I replied awkwardly.

The look on her face suggested she wanted to keep it, but with it having no use anymore, she was at a standstill whether it'd be a good idea to bring it along or not.

"Well, how about we use it like this?" I grabbed the piece of cloth, and proceeded behind her, grabbing a mass of her silver hair and tying it into a ponytail with the cloth. "How's that?"

She turned to me, feeling her new hairstyle with her hands, then giving off a bright smile. Her face had me mesmerized yet again; perhaps it was the near perfection of her innocent eyes, or perhaps the perfect curve her lips make when she smiles. I placed my hands in my pockets, mustering up the guts to ask.

"Um...11G?"

"Yes?"

"Can I call you...Ellie?" I couldn't look her in the eyes as I spoke. "Eleven G is rather lengthy when calling you on the go. I mean, it's cool, but...I thought it might be easier...?"

She laughed. Perhaps the first time I heard her laugh. Then with a bright smile, she gazed at my eyes.

"Of course, if that is what you wish." She closed her feet together and placed her left hand over her chest, doing that odd salute she did before.

"Glory to mankind, huh?" I smiled as she gave out a light chuckle.

"...u...er....me....Ray?" My earpiece started to spew chopped up words. I started walking away from the wreckage towards the cliff to try to get better reception, with Ellie following behind me, still getting a feel of her new hairstyle.

"....Ray, can you hear me...?" The words were clearer now, spoken by a soft female voice.

"This is Ray. Teto, is that you?" I responded.

"Yes! Finally." She sounded overjoyed. "You took so long to respond that we had to send out the rest of the team."

"Sorry, there was signal jamming." I turned to look at the wreckage behind me. "Only got rid of it now."

"Well, at least you're safe... I mean, you are, right?"

"Yup, fit as a fiddle." Then, I recalled her previous statement. "Wait...did you say you sent the rest of the team?"

"Oh, yes. Ryan and Chris are on their way. I updated their waypoints, so they should be landing somewhere in your general vicinity, though I'm not entirely sure how close since your exact position is still hard to pinpoint, but they should be near." I felt a tug at my shirt from behind me.

"Look up there." Ellie pointed up at the sky where two streaks of smoke were decending from the sky towards the foggy area below the cliff where we were. Perhaps a good hundred meters away.

"Are those...drop pods?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Your allies?"

"...my friends." I smiled as I held up my hand in front of her. "Let's go meet them."

She smiled in return as she grabbed my hand.

[PART END]

[midnightstarr8]

RULES: 1. Answer 11 questions. 2. Write your own 11 questions to pass on. 3. Tag 11 people.

This will be my third go-round at this thanks to the lovely @bleuemelomane <3 Loved your answers girl, especially the music! This time I probably won’t tag people but I will answer all of your questions!

1. Do you write fiction/fanfiction? If not, would you like to? -I do write from time to time; you can find my fanfiction at fanfiction.net under this link! https://www.fanfiction.net/~midnightstarr . I used to write a lot more than I really do now; I think I’ve been slipping back out of the Beyblade fandom a bit and that’s keeping me from really having the inspiration I need, but it’s also hard to really want to write after you’ve been working for 12 hours already lol. Work kills me. PS; if you check out that link don’t go back any further than three years LOL the rest of my stuff is crap.

2. What inspired you to be the person that you are today? -I think for the longest time, I was the girl that cared what everybody thought. Like really really cared, hearing something bad about myself or that I’d done something wrong and I’d go nights with no sleep. So I decided that I had to change that because it’s not right to live your life in fear of what others think of you: you’re not gonna please everybody. So keep the people closest to you happy, keep yourself happy and don’t stretch yourself too thin for other people. We’re all only so deep until we run shallow, so take care of your self-esteem! I had a wonderful father but a not-so-great mom and both of my parents struggle with alcohol addiction and work away for weeks at a time, so I mostly raised myself. I’ve always been a really independent person, but not that confident: it’s really different. Aiming to be a nurse and possibly a doctor has really helped me with my self-confidence because there’s nothing like leaving the room of your patient and knowing you made a positive difference to them. Their health depends on your judgement and your medical assessment, knowledge and skill: it’s a great boost when you’ve done something that really makes a difference. I’m still not entirely sure what kind of person I am, because on certain days I feel like a wonderful person and on other days I feel like a bad one. I think we all cycle through that, so really if we all try to just be the best kinda person we can I’m hoping that makes up for it in the end.

3. Name a few mundane things about your daily life that put you in a good mood. -Omg, okay. A cold glass or can of Diet Pepsi. Yummmm, probably with ice. Especially after a long day at work. My laptop, always running down my playlists. Putting on lipstick and nailing the perfect application! My pups cuddling up to me in bed and putting her face on mine - lmfao it’s just an adorable way to wake up. On sunny days, when we’re lucky enough to have them, if the wind’s just right the sea turns this amazing bright blue and everything just looks and sounds better. Hearing my dad playing with the animals, when Brandon calls and he says he had an awesome day at school.... Coming online here and seeing someone agrees or wants to talk about one of my headcanons! All things that make me mundanely happy.

4. Name an event that had a deep impact on your life. -That’s really difficult... Like, I’d like to say my parents’ divorce but I was a child and mom’s alcohol abuse has just been one long road of battery and ignorance. So that doesn’t really count either. Maybe graduating from nursing school... That definitely changed my life in big ways. The things you learn and the responsibility you carry is so huge, it’s a bit like carrying around a bomb that could blow at any time and you’re the only one who knows how to defuse it so if you make a mistake everything goes BOOM

5. What would be the perfect crossover for you? (Could be from movies, animes, books.. Whatever you want.) -Holy shit, uh, Beyblade, Sailor Moon and Digimon. Can you imagine a world with so much magic...?

6. What was your very first OTP/ship? -Honestly Beyblade came first.... So that would make it RayxMariah! Hahaha god love their hearts <3 Then V-Force happened and it became MaxxMariam but I still have my ReixMariah feels. Nothing but real love for that pairing.

7. Are you more of an email person or a letter person? -I think I actually do prefer emails.. It’s just quicker. Plus letters can get messy and time-consuming when you’re trying to write a whole lot. Emails I can pop it down and be done!

8. Do you relate to a fictional character? -This is gonna be lame but I really think I relate to Tyson. I am Tyson. From the bottomless gut to the engorged head to the fact that I think my friends might ditch me from time to time but they keep comin’ crawling back and I still love them to bits. Can’t relate to the champion thing though. I am master of nothing.

9. What’s your skincare routine? Do you have any secret tips that have made you as awesome as you are now? -This is laughable, but I don’t really have a skincare routine. Like there’s nothing I do nightly. In the shower I use a body wash on my face and neck called Sea-Kissed Scrub. It’s got sea salt in it, like little granules so I rub it into my face and my dry skin just totally disappears plus I feel so fresh. But otherwise, when I get out of the shower in the mornings I moisturize with whatever moisturizer I have in front of me (I have about 30 - right now it’s tarte’s H20) and then I put on my makeup. I don’t wear foundation. Really. None. I might use a pressed powder in white and maybe a concealer, but no foundation. It’s too hard to match my skin tone; I’m pale as fuck with naturally blushed cheeks so there’s nothing full coverage enough to handle it. So I just do some on-point lips and eyes and that’s about it.

10. Talk about your OCs/fictional characters: how did you create them, what makes them special.... -I’m not nearly talented enough to have a good OC, but honestly my portrayal of Mariam in my fics and in my roleplaying online here and on skype is probably close enough to having an OC. We have so little info about her as a character that it’s like having a bit of a blank canvas: time to play! I think what drew me to Mariam is that she’s so stubborn and a bit cocky, but at the same time she can be taken down a notch; like she’s not so much of an idiot that she can’t learn something new? She makes mistakes, and she’s not the best beyblader on her team and she fights with her captain and he has to be strict with her but she didn’t let that stop her from believing Max belonged with Draciel. So like, she’s a really individual thinker and I like that. So while my Mariam isn’t afraid to live life, I generally have her make a lot of mistakes... Because when you leap into everything head over heels, some things just don’t work out. And she’s a passionate person: when she’s pissed she’s pissed, when she’s upset she’s really upset so like that can spiral out of control at times. She has a couple bad habits and she makes a lot of assumptions about people. I think Mariam is special because she’s not the feminine soft that she wishes she was so she wears pretty dresses to make up for that. I think she’s special because no one else can make as many fucked up bad decisions as her and still find room to make another bad decision. Haha I love her because she grows. She has good days and bad days: like a normal person, like all characters should. She’s special because she’s mine.

11. Finally, let’s talk about cute fluffy friends: Talk about your pets! -Okay. Shadow is my nearly two-year old pup!! She’s jet black with a white patch on her chest and two white feet! She’s a border collie and terrier mix so while she’s not a huge dog she’s fluffy as fuck and soft to the touch with a really pretty face! I got Shadow because my father was getting depressed, and he loves animals even more than I do so I figured it was time for a dog. I’ve never owned one, so she’s my first pup and honestly she was so hard to train at first that I doubted my ability hahaha. She talks to us! Shadow is THE most verbal dog I have ever come across and everyone else who gets to know her says the same thing. She has a full range of speech. Shadow’s our pretty puppy. Now, a few days after getting Shadow, we made the choice to go and adopt a kitty too... Because I’ve owned cats all my life and Dad said ‘if we’re gettin’ one might as welll get two.’ So we did! On the day we visited the rescue, a lady came in with a carrier with two tiny babies in it... They’d just been pulled out of a drain pipe. So I chose Ghost. He was a snow white little guy who was terrified of people. So he went to the vet, got his shots, some ointment for his sore little eyes and he came home. The first night home, he curled up in his litter box and wouldn’t come near us but Shadow crawled in it with him and they slept there that night. After that it got easier and easier!!! Ghost has had a hard road, and late last year we found out he’d developed necrosis of his hip.... So he had to have a leg amputated. My kitty is a proud amputee and doing great!!! In fact, now he’s not in pain anymore and he’s so damn happy and active because of it. He’s a sook now. More for dad than for me, but that’s okay because that’s how I intended it. God love their hearts, they are serving their purpose. <3

And that was 11 questions! Thanks for the tag @bleuemelomane, <3 you.