#so ready to be done with this place amen

[ruelpsen]

sorry for being dead these past few days, I've had so much going on in my personal life you have no idea

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[jjunieworld]

LATHER ˒˒ 최수빈

to help raise money for charity you and your friends make your way over to the rich neighborhood to handwash cars in your best skimpy bathing suits and clothing.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi soobin x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 soyeon from gidle, chaewon from le sserafim, and karina from aespa

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ smut, rich playboy!soobin (like very rich), a lot of sexual innuendos, blonde!soobin

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ unprotected sex + pull-out method (be safe!!), kinda bratty!reader, mean dom!soobin, degradation kink, name calling (slut, whore, good girl), dacryphilia, blowjob, face fucking, cum swallowing, slight overstimulation (f. rec)

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ remember everyone, every body is a bikini body can i get an amen?!!?! :D think of this as the start of my hot girl summer writing era lmaoo（ゝ。∂）this was really pushing my wc of drabbles… lol sorry, what can i say! i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

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you huffed loudly as you tried to pull down the smallest shorts you’ve ever worn. when they didn’t budge, you slumped into the chair at the stand you and your friends were currently setting up. at least you weren’t that hot with your bikini top and jean shorts that barely covered your ass in the summer sun. for charity, you thought, it’s all for charity.

“alright, i think everything is good,” soyeon said, as her eyes scanned the stand. you, soyeon, chaewon, and karina were on the sidewalk in some rich neighborhood to handwash cars for this charity program you’re all volunteering for.

karina got up from the grass where she was filling water balloons and placing them in a bucket, “water balloons are done! are we ready to get started?” there was a piece of paper on the bucket that read ‘$20 TO GET THESE GIRLS SOAKED!’ on it. before soyeon could reply, chaewon walked up to you three.

“i already got a couple offers—they’re paying big money to see us drenched and washing their cars,” chaewon said as she sat on the plastic chair next to you. soyeon scoffed a little and rolled her eyes as she looked around to the various large and elaborate houses. there were already some men waiting on their porches or flat out in their yards with a chair and a beer.

one man in particular had his eyes on you this whole time. he was one of the ones sitting in his yard—sunglasses low on his nose bridge as he sipped from whatever beer he had. his blonde hair and white button up shirt made him stand out in contrast to the green grass behind him. you gave him a small and sweet smile while trying to make it seem like you didn’t notice his persistent staring. a smirk grew on his face and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. men are so easy, you thought.

the whole idea to even do this car washing service came from soyeon, surprisingly. in her own words, “let’s take advantage of shitty rich men for charity money!” it wasn’t a bad idea—you even suggested that you continue the car washing service in other neighborhoods too.

soyeon grabbed the megaphone from the table and said into it, “all right, gentlemen! who’s ready to get wet?! starting prices are on the sign above me and remember, it costs extra if you want something special! let’s raise some money for charity!” the rest of you all started whooping and cheering as all the men came up to you four like moths to a flame.

you were in the process of taking a lot of twenty dollar bills and passing out water balloons whenever the man from the yard who had been eying you finally started to approach. you had to tear your eyes away from him when a water balloon hit your chest, soaking your bikini top in the process. turning to the culprit with a shocked screech, chaewon smiled at you.

chaewon was completely drenched and sudsy from the car her and soyeon just washed. she held an open water bottle in her hand and you knew exactly what she was about to do with it. “chaewon!” you laughed as you looked at the water dripping off of you. you peeled some of the green balloon off that stuck to you.

“the guy who’s been eyefucking you is coming over, be ready,” she said lowly as she poured the water over your shoulders. karina smirked at you as she took over handling the water balloons. chaewon walked back to the table and you turned to greet the man.

his eyes trailed up and down your—now soaked—body, especially the red bikini top that covered your boobs. he took a water balloon from karina, pressing the twenty dollars into her open hand, and made his way to you. “need any more help getting wet?” he asked you with a sly grin.

now that he was up close, he was really attractive. he also didn’t look that much older than you, which surprised you slightly. you gave him an innocent smile, he was probably some billionaire’s son. “for charity? of course i am, if you’re offering!” you exclaimed as you held out your arms and prepped yourself to be hit with the water balloon.

instead of throwing the balloon he latched his finger underneath the strap of your bikini top. “what if i want a special offer?” he leaned into you and said lowly near the shell of your ear. your faces were inches away from each other as he looked you in your eyes and awaited your answer. the strap of your bikini top snapped back down onto your shoulder as he let go of it.

you could feel heat spread across your body, especially towards the pit of your belly. now, you weren’t really one for a casual—or not so casual—hookup with a stranger, but you were willing to make an exception for a good cause. besides, he was just so alluring. if you weren’t already so wet, you’d bet your panties would be soaked right now.

you looked at him through hooded lids and said lowly, “you’re gonna have to make a generous donation to charity if you want to fuck me, stranger.” his smirk turned into a slick smile.

“name your price and i’ll double it,” he replied, “and it’s soobin.” you licked your lips in thought and his eyes followed the motion. how much could you squeeze from him before he retracted his offer? just how badly did he want to fuck you? you debated for a moment on the price.

“one million dollars!” you settled on, raising a brow at soobin as you lifted your chin. soobin broke out into a playful laugh and you watched his reaction. he began nodding, like it meant nothing to him.

“two million it is!” he replied and the two of you made your way over to the table where the credit card reader was. soyeon’s eyes nearly fell out as she looked at the amount soobin transferred, and yours almost did too when you leaned over to look at the screen. instead of transferring over two million dollars, he transferred over four million.

soobin turned to you and smiled, “for the pretty girl in front of me.” you thanked him with wide eyes. you turned to soyeon and she mirrored your expression as she mouthed, “four million?!”

you turned back to soobin, “i hope you don’t mind waiting for a few moments. i have to wash this car quickly.” soobin shook his head and crossed his arms. “take all the time you need,” he replied.

smiling, you told him you’d be right back. as you were walking away, you heard soyeon cheekily say, “you can set up a chair and watch her if you so desire.” you helped karina grab the soap and brushes and the two of you made your way over to one of the cars waiting to be washed. when the two of you finished, you were completely drenched from head to toe and lathered in soap.

soobin had taken up soyeon’s offer and watched you the entire time. he came up to you with a towel in his hand that he outstretched towards you. you thanked him and dried yourself off as best as you could and tried to get most of the soap off. soobin trailed the tips of his fingers along your jaw, “ready?”

his fingers lifted up your chin so that you looked at him. suddenly flustered as the reality of what you were about to do hit you, all you could manage to do was nod in reply. soobin smiled and took your hand as he led you back to his house. you looked over your shoulder at karina, who was now standing with chaewon as the two of them made kissy faces at you and laughed at how your cheeks heated further from it.

the inside of his house was just as nice as the outside, but you barely got to look around before lips were pressing kisses to your neck. soobin wasted no time with you as he backed you up towards the living room and pushed you down onto the couch. his eyes were dark and full of lust and it made him look like a completely different person than the one you knew just a few seconds ago.

“take your clothes off,” he demanded as he unbuttoned his shorts. he pulled them down, revealing his bulging erection, as you crossed your legs and leaned forward slightly. “why don’t you take them off for me?” you challenged.

the corner of soobin’s mouth lifted as he took a step towards you. his tall figure hovered over yours as he hooked his fingers under your bikini straps and pulled them down. goosebumps raised along your skin where he touched and a shiver ran up your spin when he started to untie your bikini top at your back. once it was untied, he tossed it to the side onto the couch.

you shivered slightly as a cool chill swept over your now exposed breasts, making your nipples perk up. soobin rubbed his thumbs over them as he grabbed your breasts. “so beautiful…” he muttered to himself. his fingers trailed down your stomach and stopped just above the hem of your jean shorts. he looked up at you briefly, darkly, and you hooked your thumbs onto the fabric and pulled it down along with your panties until you were now completely naked under him.

soobin’s eyes raised to connect with yours, “now, are you gonna suck my cock or do i have pay more money, you fucking whore?” you reached for the band of his boxers but he slapped your hands away.

soobin swiped his thumb across your lips, “open.” you did as you were told, mouth open wide with your tongue hanging out as you waited.

“good girl,” soobin smiled. he pulled down his boxers, hard cock slapping against his stomach. you faltered, closing your mouth as you saw just how big he was. soobin pumped himself a couple times before looking at you with a raised brow.

you shook your head a little, ready to speak about how you definitely weren’t fitting him in your mouth before soobin roughly grabbed your chin. “didn’t i say open?” he asked you before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. you whimpered into the brief kiss before he pulled away and brought your lips to the tip of his cock.

your mouth opened wider willingly for soobin as you began to swallow him inch by inch. tears pricked in your eyes and you looked up at him when you were about halfway down his cock. soobin’s head was thrown back as small whines left his lips. his hands were entangled in your wet hair, aiding you.

when you stopped, already feeling him at the back of your throat, he looked down at you and moved your head down further. “you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” soobin asked you and you nodded weakly, tears streaming down your cheeks. “so fucking take it,” he added.

soobin began thrusting into your throat, grunting in pleasure as you moved up and down him. soon, his mouth hung open as warm cum spilled down your throat with his release. soobin pulled you off him, thumb catching his cum that spilled out and pushing it back into your mouth. “swallow,” he demanded, “all of it.” your brows furrowed at the salty taste and you swallowed thickly, whimpering at the pain of your bruised throat.

“such a slut…” he trailed when you opened your mouth to show how you swallowed all of his cum. your hips rolled against the couch, needing any bit of friction you can get. “soobin, please…” you whined hoarsely. you needed to feel him inside you. you need to feel how much he stretched out your aching pussy.

“turn around. bend over the top of the couch,” soobin told you. you turned and got up onto the couch, spreading your legs and bending so your ass was in the air for him. his hand smoothed over the curves of your body as he spread you apart.

“already so wet and i haven’t even touched you… you want me to stick my cock inside you, huh, you slut? fill you up?” soobin asked you as he mockingly rubbed his tip against your wet entrance. you bit your bottom lip and nodded, hips pushing back onto him as you stared at him desperately.

“please,” you whined again, “want you to fill me up…” soobin roughly pushed into you and you let out a loud gasp from the suddenness. he pounded into you rigorously, big hands gripping onto your hips as he pulled you towards him to match his pace.

you cried out as your thighs began to tremble. “s-soobin… gonna cum!” you whimpered, biting down hard to try and silence your moans but to no avail.

“yeah? you like that?” soobin hissed between moans as he fucked into you harder, “you like me fucking you like this, whore? you wanna cum around my cock like a good girl?” you nodded desperately and buried your face into your arms as you cried out again from his tip hitting your cervix. the rope in you snapped and your warm cum leaked down soobin’s cock as he continued fucking you, leaving a creamy white ring around his base.

wet sounds filled his living room as you gripped onto the cushion of his couch, “t-too much!” tears wet your cheeks as you looked back at him with furrowed brows.

soobin laughed humorlessly, but it was staggered. he breathed heavily as he pulled you up from the couch, “take it like the slut that you are.” you felt him twitch and he quickly pulled out of you. whining at the sudden loss, soobin flipped you around and cursed lowly before he began pumping his cum covered cock rapidly over your boobs.

his cum shot out onto them, painting them a pretty white as soobin whimpered. he took your chin again and brought his lips to yours roughly as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer as the kiss deepened.

once both of your lungs were on fire, soobin pulled away a little and you could feel the smile on his lips. he pressed another quick kiss to your lips, “i bet your charity will be very pleased with my donation.”

soobin pulled away fully and you shied away from his stare with heated cheeks. the two of you got cleaned up and made your way back out to your charity event. it was dusk now and it seemed like the girls were just about to start wrapping everything up. “the prodigal daughter returns!” soyeon exclaimed, causing the others to laugh.

you hid your face in your hands as you helped them clean up. the four of you ended up raising almost seven million dollars for your charity that day, and your friends made sure to thank “mr. four million.”

hehe wanna read more? click -> here

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[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 10

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol, semi public make out sessions, smut, threesome, fingering, oral, face sitting. Once y'all read this hopefully you'll see why it took 2 weeks to get done, a whopping almost 7k words. woof. im planning on starting the next chapter asap and focusing on this series as it is about to pick up and a shift is coming so that tends to keep my brain more into writing. Happy Friday! <3

After spending a handful of weeks exploring luxury hotels around the Washington area, Emily had sent you a text asking which one you liked the best. She had come to the conclusion that she wanted to put down a standing reservation at one location rather than continue to hop around across the city. You spent a bit of time reflecting on your experiences and finally replied with your favourite three, the Waldorf being at the utmost top. She couldn’t help but let out a laugh, one that was of slight relief as she had the exact opinions. It was just far enough away from her place to feel like a mini vacation, but still close enough to not be a hassle of a drive, the amenities were stellar, with the best food and late night menus. It didn’t hurt that it was the hotel the bureau usually held their big galas, meaning it would be more than easy enough to sneak away at any of those, or to simply have you waiting for her when she was done.

Overall, it just made things easier to have the standing reservation, you both had key cards and were graciously welcomed by concierge anytime throughout the week when you swung by. You were both able to come and go as you please instead of having to wait in the lobby or hotel bar for the other to arrive. While Emily was happy to leave things in the suite over the weekend, she was still a little bit apprehensive of leaving certain things when neither of you were there and her worries were solidified when you ran through a list of things that Heather would never leave in her suite. It may be permanently booked out, but it was a hotel, no matter how much the price tag was you never knew who else could have access. Like Emily had said earlier, a Benjamin could get you into a lot of places privately that you weren’t supposed to be in.

When the weekend finally rolled around, both of you were more than ready to indulge, barely able to keep your hands off each other Friday night, just when you thought one round was finally done it simply melted into another. Emily caught herself up in some work Saturday morning but chose to hand you a credit card and told you to go have some fun and you took the day to shop. She was rewarded that evening when you were getting ready, catching a glimpse of some very lacy lingerie before you slipped into your dress, scolding her in a teasing manner for spying.

You were sat at a semi secluded corner booth at the hotel lounge where you shared a mushroom and black truffle flatbread, scallops and a plate of oysters. Cocktails were easily flowing, with no concern of how many refills were had considering you were only planning on walking to the elevator. Not that you weren’t pacing yourselves, but there was more of a sense of letting loose this time. It was almost a celebratory evening, the bill you’d been busting your ass for, for Heather had successfully made it through two rounds of voting, and the BAU had finally caught their nationwide killer, finally leaving time for more hours at the home office.

“You know,” Emily began, her hand resting on your bare thigh, fingers tickling at your skin, “I really have to say thank you for getting Bailey off my back.”

“I take it the date went well?” You asked, leaning into her touch.

“I thought you would know?” She raised a brow and you laughed.

“I haven’t heard from the girl in three weeks.”

“Well it does certainly appear that things worked out in our favour.” She replied, leaning in close enough to steal a kiss.

“Good.” You murmured, pressing your lips to hers once more before leaning away to pick up your drink.

“Between that and catching our unsub I feel like my workload has been cut in half.” She sighed happily, sipping at her cocktail, “I don’t have to nitpick through every piece of paperwork and worry about having to redo it all after Bailey sees it. He’s actually leaving the office at clock out time and not hassling me on the weekends. It’s practically heaven.”

“Now if only you would leave the office at a reasonable time.” You teased and she laughed, a hand reaching up to play with the hair at the back of your neck, guiding you back toward her.

“That’s bold coming from someone who was still working past midnight three times this week.” Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke, yours curving up into a grin before you closed the gap and kissed her, lips moving with grace together.

“Late nights mean I get to go in late the next day.”

“Yeah?” She raised a brow, her face only inches from yours, “and how late is that?”

“Ten,” you laughed, “maybe noon if I’m lucky.”

“She works you too hard.” Emily commented with a slight frown before kissing you and you chuckled into the kiss.

“And you work yourself too hard.” Your hand found her leg, gently squeezing at her thigh, managing to get one last peck in before Emily huffed. The playful eyeroll pulled a laugh from you, she knew you were right, she couldn’t exactly clock you for something that she was way worse at.

“I guess you’ve got me there.” She replied with a small laugh and you squeezed at her leg again.

“I’m pretty sure the saying is ‘work hard, play hard’ so as long as you’re keeping a healthy balance.” You suggested with a smirk and she grinned across at you.

“It’s not like I keep you around for nothing.”

“Though, considering how much work you’ve been doing, maybe I need to up my end of the bargain.”

“Yeah?” She raised a brow, “and what exactly have you got in mind?”

Before you could figure out a full answer, the server swung by to offer another round of drinks. The two of you briefly glanced at each other before selecting a new cocktail off the menu to try. After all, this weekend really was about having some extra levels of fun.

There was a new sense of electricity in the air tonight, it was difficult to keep your hands off each other even out in the eye of the hotel lounge. Though the crowd was dwindling with each hour that passed and it wasn’t long before your server was making a round past the table, mentioning that it was last call, wondering if you wanted another round to take to your room with you or if you just wanted to settle up. The two of you immediately glanced around, realizing you were the last two people in the lounge before apologizing and saying you would settle, Emily making sure to add a more than generous tip.

Her hand caught yours as you stepped into the lobby, your fingers linking together as she let out an almost whiney sigh.

“What?” You asked, turning back to her with a laugh.

“I dunno, it just feels too early to turn in.” She replied with a frown and you glanced at your watch.

“It’s barely two…” you murmured before glancing up at her with a sparkle in your eye,” I know a few places that would still be open.”

“And still serving by the time we get there?” She asked with a small laugh.

“They let people in ‘til three, serve ‘til four thirty, even later on long weekends. Think of it as an…after hours club.”

“The kind of after hours club that promotes fraternizing?”

You chuckled softly, tugging Emily closer to you to steal a kiss, “stop thinking like a fucking fed, it’s nothing illegal. Just people socializing, having fun, making new friends, having some drinks, no drugs, scouts honour. Prestigious enough you need a membership to get in. We don’t have to go,” you shrugged, “I’m sure if we just go upstairs I can entertain you until you’re tired, you just seemed a little extra feisty tonight.”

“Speak for yourself.” She laughed back.

“So should I call a car?” You asked, your brow raised while you watched her think it over.

“Fuck it. It’s about time to have some fun and let loose.”

“That’s what I thought.” You grinned, pulling your phone from your purse to make the call.

Emily wasn’t surprised when a Dunbar car was out front of the hotel mere moments later and you spewed off a cross street to the driver who gave a knowing hum before peeling off down the street. Even in the back of the car it was nearly impossible to keep your hands off each other, your hand quickly finding her clothed thigh before hers was inching up your bare one, daring to sneak under the hem of your dress. She was certain the divider was going to have to be lifted but you were suddenly pulling into a strip mall parking lot.

“This it?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

“Best way to keep a secret, isn’t it?” You replied, a grin on your lips as you leant in to kiss the corner of her mouth, “don’t be freaked when they ID you, they’re just making sure everyone inside is safe. And if you see the President or his wife… no you didn’t.” You slunk out of the car after that, leaving Emily wide eyed before she quickly followed after you, thanking the driver before the door shut behind her.

Your hand found hers as you wandered up to the seemingly closed front door, rapping against it before it swung open and you were let inside. Just as you’d warned her, both of you had your ID’s scanned before you slid your membership card across the counter and the attendant welcomed you with a warm smile and the curtain concealing the next set of doors was opened.

It was darker than Emily had expected, coloured lights shining through the rooms, changing their patterns and pathways sporadically, not particularly strobes, but enough to keep the darkness a mystery. The walls were lined with semi circle booths, tables scattered throughout the open space with a large bar in the middle, it appeared there was a VIP area in a little loft area and she could see heavy strobe lights coming from down a short flight of stairs where the main dance floor was and a longer dark hallway that either led to staff areas or something she wasn’t sure she wanted to think about. The music was loud, bass strumming through the space, reminiscent of her days spent in various clubs around the world. She started to wonder if it was her age showing that was making her think it was entirely too loud or too many years of excessive headphone use coupled with field work damaging her ears when your hand darted out, reaching into a fishbowl on the end of the bar. Her heart leapt into her throat, for a second thinking that you’d either dumped your keys or picked up god knows what before you turned to her with a pack of earplugs between your fingers.

“They keep it abnormally loud in here.” You shouted over the music before leaning in so close your lips were brushing against her ear, “harder to eavesdrop on secrets when you’ve got to be this close.”

She laughed with a nod, opening the packet to put the earplugs in as you did the same, following you up to the bar. With the plugs in the heaviness of the bass was muffled, but she could still hear you clearly, hear herself think rather than be completely clouded by the noise. A couple of cocktails later and you were nestled into one of the smaller curved booths, Emily’s hand once again finding a home on your thigh, fingertips tickling at your skin.

Between the volume and it being her first time there, the first little bit at the club was spent doing the best people watching you could in low light and relaxing, embracing the vibe and the atmosphere. Every so often one of you would lean in to say something, earning a laugh from the other, a more private moment to steal a kiss or make a comment about someone eying their prospective date for the night. Cocktails were replenished without even having to ask, the perfect balance of fruity and strong, though you both knew those were the dangerous kind, you may not be tasting the alcohol tonight, but you’d likely be feeling it tomorrow. But in the moment, it didn’t matter, you were simply enjoying the different environment, feeling frisky and not having to worry at all about watching eyes. Emily felt more free relaxed and uninhibited that she had in years and she was fully enjoying it.

“How did you find out about this place?” She asked, her head ducked toward yours.

“Heather.” You took a sip of your drink, “and before you ask, it’s about a sixty-forty split business-pleasure for her depending on the day. I don’t come too often, it’s not really my style, plus some of the governor’s aides really don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. Doesn’t matter if you were actually talking deals, the next time they see you in the hallway it’s all smarmy grins and waggly eyebrows as if you’d taken them into the back room or something.”

“For a place with so many politicians I’m surprised you haven’t seen anyone tonight.” Emily mused and you laughed.

“Em, please, I’ve clocked at least eight people I know between the door and the bar. But since it’s just all about discretion, no one will approach unless they’re interested,” your finger tapped the bottom of her chin, your breath hot on her lips when you spoke next, “especially when I came in with someone.”

Your lips hit Emily’s with ease and she let herself relax into the kiss, her tongue easily sinking into your mouth, the sweetness of your cocktails swirling around your mouth. You shifted on your seat, a hand sliding up the side of her neck to tangle into her hair and the hand she had on your thigh slipped under the hem of your dress. You let out a soft moan into the kiss, your leg nearly draping over Emily’s knee as her hand slunk higher, finger tips daring to trace patterns on your bare skin and you retaliated by nipping at her lower lip.

“Certainly are feeling frisky tonight, aren’t you?” You asked with a tease and she playfully rolled her eyes at you before leaving a kiss on the side of your neck.

Your hand remained at the back of her head, tickling at her neck, gently playing with her hair while you fell back into the mix of small talk and observing the club. The next time you got your cocktails refilled, the server dropped them off along with two shots of top shelf tequila and a folded cocktail napkin with a pain tucked into it. Emily raised her brow in their direction, watching as your eyes flicked from the napkin out into the bar, surveying the room.

“Let me guess…” you asked, your elbow resting on the table, your chin propped in your hand, “brunette at the end of the bar?”

The server nodded with a small laugh, swiping the empty cocktail glasses from the table and wandering back through the room. Your free hand was still toying with Emily’s hair as she leant in,

“Jackie, right?”

“Mmmhmm.” You replied, turning to her to brush your lips against hers, “looks like we caught someone’s eye.” You slid the tequila shot toward her, “you ever had a threesome?”

“Not in about thirty years.” She chuckled, watching the way your head tilted, the sparkle in your eye as you picked up your tequila shot.

“Intrigued?” You asked, watching as Emily’s eyes finally left yours, looking across the club to Jackie. Her gaze flicked up and down the other woman’s body, taking in the smirk of her lips over the rim of her martini glass, a similar shot of tequila waiting in font of her. She turned back to you, a small grin breaking out on her own lips,

“Very.”

“Thought you might be.”

Looking over toward the bar you raised your shot glass, Emily doing the same beside you and you nearly laughed at the excitement that flashed over Jackie’s face as she raised her own before all three of you shot the liquor back. Glassware slid to the edge of the table you picked up the pen, scrawling your hotel name and room number across the inside of the napkin, folding it and placing it beside the empty shots before grabbing your phone. A moment later the server was back, collecting all of the items and bidding you a goodnight.

“Don’t we have to pay?” Emily asked and you laughed softly, pinching at her chin to steal a kiss.

“It’s charged to the membership card and there’s an auto grat, don’t worry. Now c’mon.”

*

Introductions were made, flirty small talk was had as hefty glasses of bubbly were handed out, the three of you all surveying the vibes in the room as you got more comfortable with each other. You didn’t shy away from physical contact, your hand lingering on the small of Emily’s back when she moved passed you first, then your fingers loosely wrapping around Jackie’s wrist as you complimented a bracelet. You were the invisible string between the two of them, the one making sure everyone was comfortable and understood the situation and dynamics that were to come with it.

Jackie watched out of the corner of her eye as you murmured something to Emily, your finger curling under her chin before you kissed her. Rather that intruding on the moment she redirected her gaze out the large window over looking the city, the Washington Monument alit in the night sky.

“It’s quite a view you’ve got up here.” She commented, pulling a soft laugh from Emily.

“What can I say?” She replied, smoothing back a piece of your hair as Jackie turned back to face you, “pretty girls deserve to look at pretty things.”

“They certainly do.” The dark haired woman smiled, closing the distance between the three of you as she moved through the room. “You know, I am curious…what is the dynamic between the two of you?” She glanced to Emily, “because you simply exude power and control, but this one..” Her finger tilted towards you, “has been known to put up a fight occasionally.”

Emily laughed, her hand sliding across your lower back, “luckily that’s not something I’ve had to worry about.” She pressed a kiss to your cheek that you leant into before raising an eyebrow at Jackie.

“Funny it should matter to you at all considering it’s a known fact you’re a bit of a pillow princess.”

Jackie’s lips twitched up into a grin as Emily hummed beside you, “huh… just here to get fucked, are you?”

“Oh I’m sure she’ll participate.” You replied, glancing toward Emily before stepping closer to the other woman, “she likes to earn her fucking, isn’t that right?” Your finger tapped Jackie’s nose, “looking all pretty down on your knees, just absolutely begging for it.”

A slight flush took over her cheeks as her eyes darkened, “so you have been listening.”

Emily’s hand slid up your back, fingers almost tangling into the roots of your hair as she stepped ahead of you, her free hand raising to tap Jackie’s chin, “don’t worry, you’ll both get what you deserve. But right now I do think there’s a little bit too much clothing involved, head to the bed and get things started.”

A small nod from both of you before Jackie’s hand was tangled with yours and you were tugging her toward the bed. Her hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you to her for a kiss, lips moving frantically against yours as you backed the rest of the way to the bed. She whined into the kiss when you nipped at her lip before sliding your tongue into her mouth and the whine drowned into a moan. Your hands slid around her shoulders, pushing down the straps of her dress, fingers finding the zipper on the back and tugging it down. The fabric loosely fell around her shoulders, the desire to keep her hands on you too strong to let it fall to the floor quite yet.

Jackie’s hands gripped at your waist, backing you the final couple of steps before your knees hit the bed and they began to wander your body. She eagerly groped at your chest, lips curving up into a grin at the soft moan you let out into the kiss. Her fingers pinched at your nipples through your dress, continuing to toy with you as your hands grabbed her hips, rolling your own against her. Satisfied that your moans had began to morph into whines one of Jackie’s hands wrapped around you, quickly pulling down the zipper of your dress and shoving it down your body. She pulled away from the kiss just far enough for her eyes to flick down, a smirk taking over her lips.

“I just knew you’d be the type to dress up for the occasion.” She murmured, her fingers toying with the lace, “such a pretty set.”

“Guarantee you it looks better on the floor.” You husked back, arms reaching behind you to undo the bra, letting it fall to the ground as you stepped out of your dress and dropped back onto the bed.

You heard Emily huff out a laugh from the corner of the suite but your eyes were on Jackie as she shimmied out of her dress and crawled over you on the bed, your head dropping back into the pillows a moment later when her mouth wrapped around your nipple. Your own hands wandered her body, pinching at her nipples, toying with the waistband of her barely there panties while she continued to suck, bite and pinch at your chest. She moaned against your skin when you palmed at her cunt, her hips grinding down into the touch, just barely starting to rock in a rhythm against your hand.

“Certainly are eager… aren’t we?” Emily’s voice broke into your thoughts and your eyes flickered open, your breath catching in your throat when you realized she was at the base of the bed, stripped down except for the strap. Your hand tangled into Jackie’s hair, pulling her off you, breathlessly stealing a kiss as you sat up and nudged her toward the end of the bed.

“I think it’s time for you to prove what a good girl you are and get on your knees for Emily.”

“That’s it angel…” Emily purred as Jackie crawled off the bed, “get my cock nice and wet.”

“Yes ma’am.” The brunette murmured, settling on her knees in front of the other woman.

She parted her lips, her tongue licking Emily from base to tip before wrapping around the silicone and sinking down inch by inch until she was completely buried in her mouth. Jackie began a steady pace, bobbing on Emily’s cock and the older woman’s hand gently wrapped into her hair.

“Good girl.”

Jackie hummed around her cock, the tip hitting the back of her throat as she gagged, saliva pooling in her mouth as she continued. Emily’s hips rocked toward her, sinking her cock deeper into her mouth as her eyes flicked up to you.

“If you’re just going to take in the show you should probably play with that pretty little pussy.”

Your cheeks heated, a blush shooting through you as if you had just been caught staring at something you weren’t allowed to see and you eagerly nodded at Emily. Adjusting on the bed so you were resting against the headboard you yanked your panties down your legs to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Emily’s fingers tightened in Jackie’s hair, pulling her off her cock with a gasp and turning her head toward the bed,

“She’s got such a pretty pussy, doesn’t she?” She asked and Jackie nodded.

“Oh, fuck yes…”

“Spread your legs princess, let her see that gorgeous cunt.”

You did as asked, your legs spread wide as your hand slunk down your body, settling between your legs where two of your fingers spread your pussy lips apart for the two of them to get a better view. Jackie let out a needy squeak, sitting further up on her knees so she could rub her thighs together and Emily didn’t let the motion go unnoticed.

“You’re allowed to touch yourself.” She cooed, dropping her hair so she could caress her cheek, pinching at her chin to redirect Jackie’s eyes back to hers, “get yourself nice and messy while you suck my cock.”

Emily’s eyes were immediately redirected back to you as you let out a low moan, two fingers sinking into your cunt as you began to lazily finger yourself. A moment later and she felt the base of the toy brush against her clit and she let out a breathy sigh, Jackie’s lips wrapped around her length yet again. The pace Jackie sucked her off matched the rhythm she was bouncing on her own fingers, with more urgency than you were fucking yourself, eager to both prove herself and get as close to her peak as she could. She began to moan around Emily, muffled and needy, drool beginning to pool in the corners of her mouth, droplets dripping down her chin while the sounds of your wetness echoed through the room. Emily groaned at the sights, her hand tugging Jackie’s hair again and the woman let the toy drop from her mouth with a gasp.

“Good girl.” Emily praised, gesturing for her to stand. As she did, Emily’s hand closed around her wrist, pulling the fingers slicked with juices to her mouth and Jackie watched with wide eyes as Emily sucked them clean. “So sweet.” She spanked at her hip, “up on the bed, you’ve earned a reward.”

Climbing onto the bed, Jackie grinned, her hands soothing up your legs, spreading them even further apart, watching the way you fingered yourself.

“Such a gorgeous cunt.” She murmured, ducking down to nip at your inner leg and you chuckled, sliding your fingers out as you shifted on the bed.

“Pretty sure you already proved yourself babe.” Pinching at her chin you pulled her to you for a kiss before glancing over her shoulder at Emily who tilted her head at you.

“C’mere.” Once you were at the foot of the bed she grasped your hips, pinching gently, nodding towards Jackie, “take care of her, but you don’t get to come yet.”

“Of course.” You nodded, smiling sweetly and she chuckled.

“Then flip over.”

It wasn’t a command as much as a warning as Emily was the one who flipped you over onto your stomach, landing with a soft oof as you adjusted yourself, legs dangling off the bed, feet braced on the floor. Smiling, Jackie crawled back closer to you, fingertips drawing patterns across your back,

“Bet you just make the prettiest sounds while you’re getting fucked, don’t you?”

Emily took the cue, the head of her spit slicked cock nudging at your entrance and you let out a whine, pulling a teasing laugh from both of the other women. In one heavy thrust, Emily’s cock was buried in your pussy and you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut until her hand spanked the curve of your ass.

“Go ahead, get her off. You’re just keeping me warm.”

With the tiniest of grumbles, your hands scrambled for Jackie’s hips, yanking her toward you and she was quick to flip onto her back, sliding half underneath you with widespread legs so her pussy was perfectly aligned with your mouth. Emily’s hands on your hips squeezed, nudging you even closer to her and the movement shifted her cock inside you, your pussy fluttering around the toy, clouding your brain just in the slightest.

Doing your best to focus your hands trailed up Jackie’s thighs, thumbs pressing against her pussy as they ran up it, spreading her lips open for you before briefly rubbing over her clit and her head fell back onto the mattress. Your tongue then followed the path your thumbs had just made, swiping through her cunt slowly, lapping up the juices already dribbling out, a small groan leaving your lips at her taste. The tip of your tongue flicked against her throbbing clit and she gasped.

“Oh fuck!” One of Jackie’s hands shot to your head, tangling into your hair as her hips began to grind against your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around her lower ones, moaning and groaning into her pussy, vibrations shooting through her, bringing her pleasure pulsing more south with each move of your mouth. Your tongue dipped into her, swirling the best you could before licking through her again, pressing harder and moving faster with each pass of your tongue.

“More…” she whined, her nails scratching at your scalp and your mouth moved up, sucking her clit into your mouth. “Fuck! Yes! Right there.”

As your lips wrapped around her throbbing nub, your tongue danced patterns across it with varying speed and pressure. Jackie’s noises became louder with each lick, her lip tugged into her mouth to help muffle the sounds. Behind you, Emily, proud of the work you were putting in slowly circled her hips, causing the toy buried inside you to move just enough to get you moaning against Jackie’s clit, pulling even more noise from the dark haired woman. Just as she was about to start begging for more, two of your fingers pressed into her opening, rubbing softly, just enough to be more than a tease and give her what she wanted.

“Oh my god…” she sighed, hips rocking down to the touch.

“That feel good sweetheart?” Emily asked her, leaning over you just enough to pinch at Jackie’s thigh, “you like it when she eats your cunt?”

“Fuck yes.” She moaned in response.

Your fingers slid in and she gasped, her back arching off the bed as your tongue pressed harder against her clit and you began to fuck her. Your fingers twirled, twisted and scissoring around in her cunt, stretching her out, teasing her just enough to have her a whining mess against the bed before your hand began to pump back and fourth. You crooked your fingers just enough and she swore, a near cry leaving her throat.

“Fuck! Right there.”

You pressed against the spot again and her thighs trembled around you and you knew she was close. A heavy groan from you muffled against her cunt as Emily circled her hips again, her cock dragging against your walls as she pinched at your hips. Your mouth popped off her with a gasp of breath as you thrust your fingers into her faster, curling with each pump and your free hand rubbed her clit.

“I know you’re close sweetheart.” You pressed down on her clit harder, “come for me.”

Ducking your mouth back down you replaced your hand with it, sucking her clit hard into your mouth as your fingers pushed into the sensitive spot in her drenched cunt. A few more pumps of your hand and Jackie was crying out, her back arching off the bed as her body tensed, orgasm rocking through her. You let up with your mouth, leaving a gentle kiss just above her clit as your fingers slowed.

“So good for us.” You purred, kissing across her thighs, “so pretty when you come.”

Your fingers slipped from her and you crawled back onto the bed, letting out a low whine when Emily’s cock slipped from your cunt. You trailed kisses up Jackie’s body while she caught her breath, finally landing with one on her lips.

“Holy fuck.” She muttered, still panting.

“Such a good girl.” You cooed, leaning down to nip at her neck, “now… are you finished or do you think you can go for on more?”

“More.” She pouted a whine leaving her lips and you chuckled.

“Yeah?” Sitting up you glanced over your shoulder to where Emily was slowly rubbing up and down the toy, “you want her cock?”

“Mmhmm.” Jackie scrambled to her knees, her eyes wide and pleading.

“Want Emily to fill up that tasty fucking pussy of yours?”

“Fuck. Please.” She looked between the two of you, eyes darting down to Emily’s cock coated in your juices, “please oh god, I need it.”

Emily chuckled, crooking two fingers at the other woman, “you can have it. But you don’t get to come until you’ve made her come, understood?”

“Yes.” Jackie practically pounced down to the end of the bed, sprawling out on her back and spreading her legs wide for Emily, her pussy still dripping with wetness.

You watched as Emily slid the tip of the toy through her folds, smearing her wetness with your remaining juices, teasing her just enough so that Jackie was out of breath again.

“Well?” she glanced from her cock up to Jackie’s face and over to you and the other woman’s hands scrambled to your waist, tugging you to her as Emily yanked her to the edge of the bed and sunk her cock into her.

Jackie let out a low moan, nearly forgetting the task at hand at the sensation of being full and stretched before her head rolled towards you, “sit on my face.”

You didn’t waste any time, quickly straddling her head and a second later her hands were clawing at your waist, tugging you right down onto her face, her tongue lapping at your pussy. Behind you, Emily set a steady pace, her hips thrusting into Jackie with precision and skill, watching at the way you started to grind down onto her face. As much as you had wanted to watch Jackie come undone on the other woman’s cock you were utterly lost in your own world as she started to eat you out, your pussy throbbing around nothing as pleasure began to shoot through you.

“Oh my god…” you groaned, your head falling back as you hands began to wander you own body, aching for something to latch onto as Jackie’s lips wrapped around your clit. “Fuck!”

Each time Emily circled her hips, or began to toy with the other woman’s clit, Jackie’s moans got louder and longer, vibrating right into your cunt. Her nose would brush against your clit, rubbing at it as her tongue explored as much of your dripping pussy as she could. Your hands pinched at your nipples, rolling them between your fingers as you rode her face, matching the pace that Emily was fucking her. Jackie’s tongue flicked at your clit again and you gasped.

“Fuck.”

“That’s it.” Emily husked from behind you, thrusting harder into her, “she likes that, keep going.”

Jackie’s mouth latched around your clit and you shuddered, your thighs trembling around her head and you could almost feel her lips curving up into a smirk. Her hand snuck between your legs, sinking two fingers into you, curling immediately and you moaned, this one louder than the last.

“Keep that up and you’ll make her come.” Emily urged, and Jackie didn’t waste a single second.

Her tongue pressed harder, dancing its patterns faster as her hand began to move quicker, her free hand gripped your waist so tight you knew there would be marks tomorrow. She pulled you down so tight onto her face if you’d been thinking straight you would have been worried about suffocating her but all you could think about was the way your pussy was clenching around her fingers, how her hot mouth felt on your cunt and the noises of Emily fucking her harder and faster with each time you ground down onto her face.

“Oh my god…oh my god…” you weren’t sure how much longer you were going to be able to stay upright, your hips jolting as pleasure soared through your body.  Your hands scrambled to catch yourself on the mattress, clawing at the bedspread as Jackie continued to hold you down, her fingers fucking into you faster as what you thought was your oncoming orgasm suddenly resurged up again, building even higher and hotter under your skin until she sucked on your clit again and you cried out, thighs shaking around her head.

Your entire body shuddering you were finally able to break free from her grasp, collapsing down onto the bed beside her with your chest heaving as she panted, a sly grin on her lips as she was more than satisfied with her work.

“That’s it sweet girl.” Emily praised, her hands soothing up Jackie’s thighs as the other woman was able to fully focus on her pleasure.

“Fuck…harder… please.”

Emily’s hips rocked forward, a particularly sharp thrust that had Jackie gasping for air and you chuckled softly, rolling onto your stomach to cage her into the bed. Your lips caught hers, tongue dipping into her mouth to suck your own juices off her tongue, swallowing down each others moans. Giving her a chance to breathe, your mouth made its way down her neck, sucking and biting into the crook of it while she let out more noises.

“God,” Emily groaned, “you look so fucking good taking my cock. Such a pretty girl.”

Jackie could do nothing but whine in response, her senses on fire at the multiple touches against her skin. Your free hand quickly sunk between her legs, beginning to play with her clit in the same speed Emily was fucking her, alternating between pressing hard or rubbing softly.

“Can feel you trembling baby.” You murmured into her neck before biting down hard and she groaned, her hips launching up off the bed. “You gonna come for us? Let us see how fucking hot you look?”

“Fuck.” She muttered, “s-close.”

“Mmhmm.” Your tongue swiped at the already darkening mark on her skin before sucking at it again and she whimpered.

Emily’s hand was suddenly on top of yours, pressing down even harder against Jackie’s clit, urging you to rub faster and she circled her hips again. The small circle along with the combined pressure of both of your hands was all it took for Jackie to be crying out, her body shaking as it jolted off the bed and she hit her peak. Your hand softly trailed up her body as you gently kissed across her skin, finger tips drawing patterns while she panted.

“That’s it…” you cooed, “so good for us.”

“Such a pretty girl.” Emily murmured, her hips slowing and she fully sunk into Jackie one last time, holding there for a moment, “takes it so well even from two at once.”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, placing a gentle kiss on her collarbone, “kinda gives me ideas.”

“Really?” Jackie asked breathlessly, her eyes cracking open, a small smirk on her lips.

“Ones I just know you’d like.” You teased, leaning over her with a grin and when Emily pulled out you capture her lips in a kiss, muffling the whine.

Emily disappeared into the bathroom for a minute, no doubt cleaning off the toy leaving it to dry and freshening up, coming back a few moments later wrapped in a fuzzy robe. Opening the mini fridge she picked out a few bottles of water, passing them over to you to take a few sips.

“Christ…” Jackie muttered with a small laugh, “that was not how I expected my night to end.”

“Not expected maybe, but it was what you were hoping for.” You laughed back.

“I told myself I would stay for one drink, just happened to be a lucky one.” She retorted, “I was there for business. Speaking of,” lifting her wrist to check her watch she let out a sigh, pushing up to sitting, “I’ve got an early meeting, I need to get going.” Slipping off the bed, she quickly redressed herself, scooping up her purse before leaning over the bed, leaving a kiss on your lips, “I’ll see you.”

“Mmhm.”

Crossing to Emily she left a kiss on her cheek, “thanks. Here’s hoping to running into you again.”

“Only time will tell.” She smirked, watching as the other woman vanished from the hotel room.

You let out a sigh, finally sitting up from the bed, groaning as you stretched out your body before disappearing into the bathroom. In the short time it took you to freshen up, remove your make up and brush your teeth Emily had ridden herself of the robe, opting to slip under the sheets naked instead. She was about to pick up the remote when you spoke,

“You know… something doesn’t totally feel fair.” You stated as you climbed back into the bed.

“What? That she just gets to leave?”

“No.” You laughed and she caught the devilish gleam in your eye, “you didn’t get come…”

Your hands were on her hips before she even realized it, letting out a quiet shriek as you flipped her onto her back with a wicked grin on your lips. Though there was no time to even think about protesting, your mouth and hands were on her before she could even think, eagerly and very energetically repaying her for all of the pleasure she’d given out that night.

____________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @just-moondust @ms-downhill @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @doragoy

[jokeringcutio]

First Dinner (Footsie?) Reader & Stepbrother Stu Macher & Stepdad William Afton [Mature, see warnings, no smut]

Summary: It's your first dinner at your new house. Time for a battle of feet underneath the table with your new stepbrother Stu. But did your stepdad just put his hand on your leg during prayer?

AN: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. But they are all Stepbrother!StuMacher x !StepsisterReader Universe. Some overlap with the Stepdad!WilliamAfton x !StepdaughterReader drabbles.

For those of you who are keeping track of the Stepdad!William Afton fics: These are standalone fics, although some of the fics with Stu can be seen as linked to other stepdad drabbles. I'll leave it up to you to choose your own path with these drabbles and fics. 💜

Rating: Mature due to themes, Warnings: Footsie under the table, Stepdad might have misplaced his hand. Religious William Afton. Can be interpreted as dark/dangerous William Afton. Note: Reader is approximately 17 in this fic and Stu 18. No smut, there are touches and tension.

Reader at table for dinner with William and Stu for the first time.

Warm yellow light fell upon the table, the meal looking as good as it always had. Which was quite the achievement as your mother had cooked in this strange, new kitchen for the first time.

“Well, everything’s ready,” she said with a bright smile.

You sat rigid in your chair, still getting used to the new house, the new furniture and the new customs that the men in this house seemed to hold onto. Your mom was to your left and your new dad to the right of you. Your stepbrother Stu was seated at the other side of the table.

The unfamiliar weight of William's gaze fell heavy upon you as he glanced around the table, making sure everyone was paying attention to him as he declared, "We pray before we partake."

So this was how it was going to go from now on then? Right.

You looked at your mother as she folded her hands and closed her eyes. Then your eyes drifted to Stu who had already done the same. You bowed your head and followed their lead, silently wondering why you hadn’t thought William to be a religious man in the first place. There was just something about him that had screamed ‘unholy’ ever since you’d met him. You just couldn’t quite put your finger on what that something was.

The sonorous timbre of William's recitation of ‘Our Lord's Prayer’ filled the room, a droning incantation. You listened to hear the variation in his words. The Catholic Lord’s Prayer, you noted, having heard different versions of the ‘Our Father’ over the years.

While you listened, a stealthy pressure appeared on your thigh, warm and insistent. The shape of a hand, hot and undeniable. The fingers resting upon the fabric of your clothes. Thank goodness you didn’t wear your shorts right now.

Your breath hitched, eyes squeezing tighter shut in a mix of fear and curiosity.

Judging by the size and the angle the hand came from, it could be none other than William’s hand. But why would your stepdad touch your leg?

As quickly as it had come, the hand moved up your leg and then disappeared again, leaving you confused and doubting whether what you had felt had been real. Only one way to find out though.

You peeped an eye open to see who at the table had dared to unclasp their hands, your gaze snapping to your stepfather as he was the main suspect.

But William sat with his hands folded, piously. His eyes seemed to be closed, though it was hard to tell behind those thick glasses.

"And lead us not into temptation," he continued, tone unflinching. It made his words feel all the more like a stab. As if you had somehow succumbed to the temptation of curiosity. While you could have sworn he had placed his hand on your lap. But… had you been imagining it?

Amen.

Relief washed briefly over you as the prayer ended, and the collective murmur of 'good meal' wishes echoed around the table.

While William launched into a monologue about his day at work, dissecting every minor occurrence with surgical precision, your mother was hanging onto his every word. You picked at your food, glad that the taste hadn’t changed and that at least that aspect of your life still felt familiar.  

A sudden nudge against your foot startled you from the numbing drone of workplace politics. Heat blossomed on your cheeks when you realized it was Stu, mischief dancing in his blue eyes. Had you moved your legs too much into his space? This seating arrangement was still new to you and Stu was very tall. Surely he needed more space to put his legs with the height he had on him.  

"Sorry," you murmured under your breath, almost instinctively, shrinking back into your seat. You felt as if you had intruded in his space and surely he mustn’t be thrilled to feel his stepsister’s feet blocking his own. Why else would he have nudged your feet with his?

Stu's voice, low and tinged with amusement, barely reached you. "Don't worry."

You retracted your legs, making sure they were neatly underneath your chair, aware of William’s glance in your direction. Stu had leaned over his food, feigning innocence in such a way that he indeed had you fooled. It must have been an accident, and it had probably been your fault as well.

Oh well, you still needed to get used to all of this. With cheeks red, you continued to eat. You listened to your mother’s laughter and William’s dry work-related tales.

You could have forgotten the embarrassing under-the-table incident, if Stu’s foot would not have returned. This time, clearly intentional. You glanced up at him to see him smirk playfully at you. His foot brushed over the back of yours, slowly inching up your ankle, and you glowered at him, a silent warning for him to shut it out.

A small chuckle escaped his lips and you could not help but shake your head as you tried to suppress a chuckle of your own. What was he doing? This was ridiculous!

Stu’s foot came to rest against yours, toes kissing toes. It was actually nice and warm to feel this part of him against you. The both of you continued eating like nothing under the table was amiss, casting each other glances every now and then while you ate. But your feet remained dormant, pressed against each other. Then, silence followed, and you heard William clear his throat.

"Stu, how was your day?" He inquired, his voice smooth like aged whiskey, edges just as sharp.

The feet underneath the table shot back to his own side and you felt like you could breathe again. Finally, Stu seemed to leave you alone. His game had ended.

"Fine," Stu replied, shrugging. "Hung out with friends."

"Good, good," William nodded, the benign smile plastered on his face failing to reach the frost in his gaze. "Just keep out of trouble, all right? School's not far off."

Oh-ho, there was something there, you could tell. Apparently, Stu wasn’t very serious about his schoolwork. Or he spent too much time with his friends. Whatever it was, it was clear his father had just given him a warning, and quite right. This was Stu’s last year and no doubt William wanted his son to graduate.

"Sure, Dad." Stu's nonchalance was a well-practiced art, the shrug of his broad shoulders a quiet rebellion. "I'll stay focused."

Underneath the table, his feet returned to your side and without a warning, your leg became a battleground. Stu's foot pressed against it, insistent, warm through the fabric of your clothes. You tensed, breath caught in the crossfire between annoyance and something perilously close to thrill. Could you just kick him back? The idea seemed like a good one.

"And you," William's voice drew you back. "Must be exciting to start your final years here. You'll be attending the same high school as Stu. It's a fine institution."

"Y-yes," you stuttered, trying to disentangle yourself from Stu's silent claim. If you kicked him now then your parents would know you’d been having a silent battle beneath the table. And somehow, that thought worried you. You didn’t feel like getting a lecture from your mom, or – God Forbid -  from William. You didn’t know if you could survive such a thing.

"That's... great to hear," you stammered, mind not fully there as you tried to keep your eyes upon your stepfather whilst Stu’s foot was still battling with your own.

Finally, Stu withdrew, leaving behind a ghost of pressure. A smirk played on his lips, visible only to you, like a secret shared between predator and prey. You felt as if your cheeks must be a bright red now, and hoped William and your Mom would interpret your stammering and the flush on your cheeks as you simply being shy.

"Education is important," William continued, his tone paternal, as if he had this talk many times in the past. Another indication that he had been sternly talking to his son before you and your mom moved in.

"Of course," your mom agreed from her side of the table, passing one of the condiments to William via Stu. “Which is why I am so grateful you managed to get her in at the same school as Stu.” She looked at you, an excited glimmer in her eyes. “It’s the best one around here.”

You forced a small smile. Not that you didn’t appreciate what your mom and stepdad had been arranging for you, but you couldn’t quite care at this point. Everything you had known before, every friend you had made, was left behind. You had to start all over. And that… well, that felt kind of rough.

As if your mom sensed where your thoughts were heading, she asked you, "Are you excited about making new friends at school?"

In front of you, Stu sat attentively, blue eyes glistening with interest while he toyed with his fork. But you could tell that he was listening intently. Next to you, William had placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands, attention fully back on you again.

"I suppose,” you said, realizing you didn’t sound as enthusiastic as your parents might have hoped. To defend the lack of energy fueling your words, you quickly perched on your seat and turned to your stepdad fully. "I'm actually looking forward to learning rather than to making new friends."

"Is that so?" William raised a brow and you couldn’t tell if he was impressed or skeptical of your claim. You were telling the truth though. Learning would keep your mind occupied and distract you from the things you had lost, everything that you had left behind. Plus, the sooner you got high school over and done with, the sooner you could find your own way in life.

"Have you always been this eager to learn?"

You glanced at him and was it just you, or did his gaze just seem to darken? Must have been a trick of the light.

“Oh no, I’ve always been a curious girl,” you said, the words slipping from between your lips with ease. “Learn new things, practice new skills. I won’t say I’m any good at it but I try and do my best.”

“She’s a very serious learner,” your mom said with a smile. “Truly what they call a good girl. And what a blessing to have for a daughter.”

You smiled at the compliment and then picked up your cutlery. But you made the error of letting your eyes slide past the men around the table, noticing how both Stu and William's eyes had darkened, a storm brewing in twin blue skies.

How very alike they were. The similarities between the two of them sent a shiver down your spine and you nearly dropped your cutlery.

"A good girl indeed," William praised, his words a thoughtful murmur as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, chin still resting on his fingers. It felt as if the air had grown denser, charged with something unnamed.

Your mother seemed oblivious to the change. She smiled brightly, taking William’s words as a compliment, not a threat.

You shook your head and let out a nervous laugh, and only looked up again when you heard the others had continued eating. William and your mother’s conversation had turned back to some of the women William knew in the neighborhood. He was telling your mom which ones she should try to get in touch with and had the same hobbies as she had. Then she would feel less alone whenever he was at his job. Plus, it was always a good thing to make new friends, right? It was yet another reminder of how lonely you were in this new neighborhood. Sure, you were still in touch with some of your old friends, but you didn’t have a partner who would present new contacts to you on a plate. You’d have to find them all on your own. And as the new girl in town, that was either going to be incredibly easy, or incredibly hard.

You had the feeling it was going to be the latter.

You listened, relieved that the focus had shifted from you back to your mom, and leaned back in your chair after you decided you had eaten enough.

As you listened to the banter, half lost in a daydream, a foot suddenly slid past yours again. Large, warm, familiar.

Your eyes instantly darted to Stu who was poking at his food like nothing was happening underneath the table. Well… If he wanted to play this game, you would entertain him.

With a smirk on your lips, you nudged back, a playful jab. You’d slipped your foot out of your shoe, making it easy to slip your sock past his shin. And yes, you deliberately aimed your foot a little higher, brushing the side of your sole past his shin sensually.

A sharp intake of breath was heard, but not coming from Stu in front of you.

Instead, when you lifted your gaze, it wasn't your stepbrother's smirk that met you. It was William's.

"Apologies," he uttered, the edges of his lips twitching upward. But there was an unpredictable glint in his eyes. "I seem to have bumped against someone."

Blood rushed to your cheeks, betraying you as you recoiled. "Oh no,” you yelped, hoping he would think the touch against his leg had been an accident.

“That was me.” You knew you looked flustered now as you stammered, aware of all eyes upon you. “It was my fault. I’m sorry. I’ll just keep my legs over here."

Across the table, Stu’s smile turned into a knowing grin. He shoveled another bite into his mouth before turning to face your mom.

“This tastes really good,” he said, eyes glinting mischievously. “You make the sweetest things.”

“Indeed,” William said, his lips parted as he paused, tongue darting out to tip against his canines while he thought. And you could tell that from the corners of his eyes, he was watching you as he murmured, “the sweetest things.”

You couldn’t shake the thought that both men meant something ambiguous with that comment. But surely, they couldn’t mean you, could they?

Because the thoughts inside your mind, right now, were anything but sweet.

~

AN: For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist  - Request Box ~~

[tmwcs]

Heethans reaction to Y/N wearing a revealing swimsuit to a pool party they both got invited to??

Warnings: smut...unprotected smut. some jealousy, not proofread. but nothing too extreme really....but still good ;)

Pool Party

“you ready pretty baby?”

“yup, I’m good.”

taking you gently by the hands softly smiles as you latch yourself onto his arm. taking the bag filled with towels and extra light clothing, you both head out to attend a massive pool party hosted by Jake’s fraternity home.

The event was set later in the afternoon, in order for the festivities to carry on towards the evening, transitioning into an all night pool party. Casting on a loose summer dress over your swimsuit, Heeseung didn't get the chance to see you in the new swimwear you purchased with H/n when the four of you all went to the shopping outlet. When the boys waited outside the boutique, you and H/n partook a moment or two to dip inside and take a look at the collection. Sure enough, Heeseung migrated inside and stood by the entrance, keep an eye on you so ast o make sure no one approached you, yet he never took a clear look at the swimsuit you spotted on the hanger. Quickly making over to the line, you purchased the two piece and made your way over to meet him at the exit.

"I"m done babe."

"oh did you get something?" he asked in an intrigued, but soft manner. It was filled with adoration as he pitched his tone a bit higher than usual, and wrapped his arm around your waist while placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

"yeah i did." you chuckled out.

Arriving back to his room, you immediately stuffed the set into your drawers, ensuring that he didn'e see while settling into his desk. Now, with the pool party date amongst you, you finally have the chance to show off the stunning piece. You bought it with him in mind, and you certainly hoped that he would like it....little did you know, many others would find themselves liking it just as much as he did....

"hey guys! you made it! pick a spot to set your stuff down, you can get undressed anywhere you want, and just let me or h/n know what you want to drink." Jake greeted as he walks you both over to a spot he reserved nearby the pool. "the pool house is for you guys in case you want to stay the night, there's a small guest bedroom and a couch, along with some amenities like a Keurig and a tv. I made sure to reserve it for you guys."

With a wink, Jake leads the both of you inside the small guest house, where you and Heeseung settled in and placed your belongings down.

"Oh this is nice." you mentioned.

"Yeah. What do you want to drink baby?" Heeseung quietly asks as he sets down your bags. Dawning an large tee with a pair of swim trunks, he lifts the shirt off his body as he stretches out his abdominal muscles before gently tossing it over the arm of the couch. Seeing him in his ultimate glory, shirtless and his glistening muscles kissed by the tender rays of the sun, while wearing the black swim shorts had you swooning. His long, shaggy hair parted off to the side as he dipped his hands into the running water from the small kitchenette faucet, and combed his fingers to roughly style it and expose his forehead. How devastatingly handsome he looked.

"Hmm?" he smirked as he hummed over to you while raising a brown just ever so slightly.

"Oh no nothing." you laughed.

"You're staring..." he smirks out as he displays a slight bit of teeth while tilting his head back. Crossing his arms, he stands still waiting for an explanation as he teases you with just a simple look.....that look. The same look that he gives when he's ready and wanting, and you're willing and submitting.

"I am not." you sighed back out as you gave him a defying look.

"Yes you are."

"No I am not."

The moment you turned your face away to dig into your bag for some lotion, he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around your waist. Nibbling on your ear, he whispers...

"Yes...you are....and don't worry....I'll do something about that when we get home." with a quick and snappy kiss to your cheek, he begins to exit the guest house. "I'll be back, i'll grab you some water and juice, meanwhile you can get undressed and we'll go for a dip in the pool." with his back facing you and his side profiling speaking in your direction, he winks as he steps out. You chuckled as you rubbed the lavender scent lotion into your palms.

Looking down, you started to feel nervous the moment you untied the front lace tie of your dress.

Untying the strings, you gently pull them outward, loosening the bow knot as the front flaps that cover your breasts detaches, becoming undone and exposing the top piece of your bikini. Slipping the dress further down, you smoothed the material down as it rings around your waist, then onto your hips, until it finally surpasses your knees and reaches your ankles. Swapping out your shoes for the light pair of sandals, you grabbed onto a towel and wrapped it around your body. All of a sudden, your confidence went out the window as you found yourself too shy to expose the swimsuit before all these people, much less Heeseung.

"Here you go pretty baby." He enters, handing you a bottled water and some fruit punch.

"Oh thank you." you gently gestured as took the two bottles, and received the kiss he leaned in to give you.

"You okay?" he asks as he rubs your arms together, raising a brow upon noting the towel you had wrapped around your body.

"Yeah i'm fine just not...used to being around this many people while wearing a swimsuit." you honestly opened up.

Seeing how transparent you were, he gives off a slight smile. "You don't have to uncover yourself, if you want to wear your dress or my shirt, or stay wrapped up in the towel, you can." he speaks against your forehead, hugging you and rubbing your back to reassure your level of comfort. When it came to others, Heeseung had no problems in keeping you covered and out of sight, with him alone....it was different.

"But at some point...I am going to see what you've got hiding underneath that towel." he winks out.

Chuckling, he takes you by the hand and leads you out to a pair of lounge chairs. The sun was nicely setting, and you figured the darker it gets, the better you may feel about exposing your swimsuit, considering the night air would help mask your body. Yet fate would have other plans in store for you....

"Hey y/n!" h/n yells out, waving over to you as she makes her way towards you and Heeseung.

Waving back, you were completely unaware of the two girls behind. They were the same age as you, but that didnt' stop them from partaking into the festivities and enjoying the free alcoholic beverages that were offered to all the party goers. When one of the girls found herself slipping over the edge of the pool, she reached out and grabbed for whatever it was her hand could get a hold of.....which was the towel you had on.

Watching the whole thing go down, Heeseung's eyes grew wide as he shoots an arm and grabs hold of your arm to pull you in, keeping you from being pulled into the water as he watches the flimsy girl fall flat face into the surface of the water, with your towel in her hand.

The moment he had you pinned to him, he was more focused on your well being as he asked you, "Are you okay?" before slowly noting the two piece you had on. With the commotion of the splash and the scream of the two girls, everyone's attention had been caught on and eyes had transitioned from the drunken girl in the shallow water, to you.....where it remained.

As you peeled back to look around, noting the girl swimming back to the latter in the most clumsy manner, you suddenly started to notice just how everyone was looking at you with ultimate fascination....to include the man who stood closest to you. Wanting to see more, he pushes you back as he grabs a firm hold of your arms.

"Heese-" Your words were cut off the moment you saw that his eyes were wide, and his brows were raised high as his fingers dug into the flesh of your arms and his sight moved up....and down, taking in full sight of your body. He was so enamored and breathless from the view, he didn't even care that others were seeing you...at least not for that moment. Throughout the commotion, you felt your hair slipping down from the loose bun you had it up on, quickly, you reach up to catch it and to find the broken hair clip that was slightly tangled into your strands. Reaching up was just the initial reaction you had upon feeling your hair coming undone, but for everyone else around you...to include Heeseung, it was something that was considered a view that could only be seen once in a lifetime this close...and this personal.

"Oh...did my hair clip break?" you earnestly asked as you lowered your head and fished out the broken piece. You were still in shock but also completely caught off guard, you didn't know just how to react.

"Um.....I'm going to go and get another hair clip from my bag....." you quietly mentioned to Heeseung, who was still eyeing you up and down before he finally sets his wide eye'd gaze on your face, biting his bottom lip.

Suddenly you felt his grasp shift you over as he begins to drag you towards the guesthouse. Pausing slightly, he pulls you in front, where he pushes you in the rest of the way as he sides eye the crowd and flares off a wide death stare. Immediately, everyone coughed up their reactions as they stopped themselves from swooning.

........

"Oh shit, look away."

"Fuck.....y/n....hot ass bitch."

"Hey man, turn your face around....Ethan's giving that look...you dont want that."

"Oh my God....did you fucking see her? Fucking blessed....."

"Just one more look and I'll turn away for good."

"Fuck man....Ethan is still looking this way."

"Just.....lets all stop, you dont want that man to come over here."

.........

"Hey is everyone okay? Lets get back to the party yeah?" Jake speaks out, getting the attention towards him as he notes Heeseung's glare. Nodding over to him, Jake winks over to his best friend as he accumulates and distracts everyone, allowing Heeseung to peacefully push you inside the guest house. "We've got beer bong in the front yard, and a live band inside, whose down to go?" Jake asks, hyping up the large crowd as everyone exits the pool area and makes their way over to the frat house. Within minutes, the entire pool was emptied and cleared.

Waiting inside the guest house, you thought for sure that Heeseung was upset for your choice of swimwear, yet he merely kept looking out the window as he watched everyone leave. When the last person had walked passed the hedged fence line, neatly trimmed into box shaped bushes that outlined the entire pool, he reaches back with his hand without facing you. Taking it, he gently grabs hold and leads you back outside the guesthouse, where he walks over to the pool.

"Wanna go for a swim?" he quietly asks. Exposing his side profile, he merely eyes you with a soft smirk forming on his lips.

"Uh yeah...i'd like that."

Nodding, he walks down the smooth steps in the shallow end of the pool, leading you down with him. The moment the water came up to his waist, he turns around and pulls you in by the waist, where your hands rest on his shoulders and your legs wrap around him. Cradling you against his tall and strong form, he looks up as he carries you with added height to your frame while he lifts you against him. Looking up and placing his lips gently on your jawline, he quietly speaks against your skin as your face remained slightly turned away out of embarrassment.

"Is this new?" He asks as he tugs on your bottom piece by the waist band.

"Yes....." you answered rather innocently and nodded while eyeing off to the side, almost looking shameful, as if you had prepared for a scolding.

"Is this why you were feeling shy earlier?" his tone was soft and rather gentle....nearly sympathetic.

"Mmhmm....." you nodded once more.

"Who did you buy it for...hmm?" he asks, speaking into your skin as he digs his face into the side of your cheek.

"....For you......I wanted to wear it for you.....but I didnt think there was going to be this many people today..." you mumbled out.

"Aww.....is that right?" kissing your cheek, his finger loops under the waist band and traces downward towards the bikini line. "I like it....." he deeply whispers as his tongue circles motions on your jawline, down to your chin and up towards the corner of your mouth.

"...You do?" you asked earnestly. You were shocked, you knew he would have liked it, but thought that he would have been too mad to admit it knowing that you had just exposed what he claims as "his" in front of a large crowd.

"I do......" he deeply speaks, licking your cheek up and down. Reaching up, your wet hands softly combs through his hair to reinitiate the side parting. The wet drops drip down his smooth face as the ends of your strands stick to your frame, curling under the massive exposure of the undercarriage of your breasts that peeked out from your swim top.

Gulping down a hard swallow, he looks at you with a deep sense of adoration, admiration, and love. Smirking out a dashing, closed mouthed smile, his eyes shift from side to side as he studies your face. Leaning in, he kisses you passionately as the finger that traced its way into your bikini line pushes your bikini aside, exposing your core to the smoothness of the water. Your fingers dig into his bare shoulders as you breathe in from the kiss, knowing what was about to come.

Shifting out his member, he migrates the both of you towards the shallow end where he stands tall and emerges his frame, along with your waist and pelvis out of the water. Pumping his dick a few times, wet and covered in fresh droplets, he begins to enter. Gasping out as you felt the slight bit of friction, he juts himself fully inside until he's all in. Once nestled inside you, he migrates back into the deeper end, where the water meets his waistline. Pressing you against the edge, he places a grip over the ledge where your back laid nicely against the back of his palm and his forearm, so that your spine wasn't hitting the hard edge of concrete and pool tile. With his free hand wrapped around your rear, he slowly pulls and pushes your body, while admitting slow and small thrusts of his own. The gravity of the water made it easier for him to levitate your frame with just one arm, while also adding more depth in his thrusts as he adds more momentum than usual. The waves of the water begin to roughen up as they all surround you and splash against your frames.

Tilting your head back as your wrap your arms around his neck, you gasp out his name. "Ugh! Heeseung!...oh-oh babe!"

"Shhhh.....that's my girl......" Shoving his tongue in your mouth, he shushes you by kissing your deeply. With the voices of the crowd heard from the house, you knew that while out of sight, they were still in relatively close distance to the point that if you had moaned and screamed to your hearts content, the way you wanted to right now, they would have heard you. Forcing yourself to remain quiet, was the hardest thing to accomplish as you felt yourself being fucked deeply in mid water by the man who never fails to bring you to your knees.

Faster and faster, he picks up the pace, causing a whirlpool of tumbling rolls and aquatic waves to dance among you. Adding a lift to his motions, his arm would raise your hips each time he thrusted back in. Sitting you upright, he takes his hand and removes it from the edge of the pool and pulls up your top that barely kept the underside of your breasts contained. Shifting it up, he frees your breasts and harshly sucks on them as he continues to thrust, growling as he twirls his tongue all over your areola.

"Ugh! He-Heeseung!" you moaned out repeatedly, biting onto your knuckles as you feel your body jolting up and down from his wrath, being fucked relentlessly as you try to hold your screams in. The pleasure was too much, and you felt the knot in your gut about to snap as your body pulsates up and outward as you take in each thrust from his quivering and throbbing member. The tempo, the rhythm, and the pace was all steady...it didn't make any sense. It was both fast and slow, both deep and shallow, and rough yet soft. Like all the times when Heeseung fucked you, everything lost factual value as you found yourself on cloud nine and away from reality. Being fucked by him, was like living in a world that was non-existent, and the feeling in your body was unlike anything you could ever imagine....it was something you didn't know had existed until the very first time he took you and made you his.

Fucking into you, in....and out.....in.....and out.....his tempo increases, and he bites his lip as he smirks out a growl as he snarls against your throat. With your body popping up in a harsh rhythm, your throat rubs against his lips as your body absorbs the flow of each hit as the tip of his shaft repeatedly taps your soft spot as it slides in and out. Faster and faster, your body starts to bounce rigorously as the water grows chaotic and splashes everywhere. Your breasts move up and down at a high volume as he watches with great pleasure that greatly riles him up even more....causing him to add more ferocity into his manner in fucking you.

Before you knew it, you lost all control and never minded if people could hear you, because the moment he had you bouncing at high speed and depth, you began to yell out your moans. Of course it would help that the music had more than likely blocked out the echoes of your gasping sounds of pleasure, yet still, you knew just how loud this man could get you.....and he did it so well...he fucked you so well...he fucked you so good....too good....the way this man had you bouncing up and down his cock, the way he could easily tap that soft spot, and breach up further, splitting walls and making new paths into your flesh....the way he rolled his tip inside and the curve of his shaft rubbed the edge of your skin in your entry, causing a rumbling sense of pleasure that equated to the sense of heavy vibration....oh the way this man could fuck you endlessly....it was like....like......

"Oh my God!! I'm gonna cum! Heeseung!"

Grabbing hold, you bury your face into the nook of his neck as you screamed into his Adam's Apple and felt the hot gush flow through you.

"Thats it....take it baby." he whispers as he juts out minor groans whie he releases inside at the same. In the manner of how good he made you felt, it was just the same for him. The way your hot fluids coated his dick as he buries it deep inside, causing him to cum as your walls tap and squeeze his throbbing cock as you cum was just pure heaven to him. With your walls pulsating and quenching his tip further in, he steadies you as your body jolts uncontrollably upon reaching orgasm.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" popping your hips and rolling your waist, your body jerks in seizure motions that you couldn't control, causing you to gasp out moans of pleasure. Grabbing onto your waist, while his other hand caresses your cheek, he steadies you still as he emits a couple of "shhh...." against your lips.

"There we go....theeeeere we gooooo...yeah.....just like that.....good girl....goooooood girl." he calms you as your moans die down to soft whimpers and he forces your body still from the raving jerks as he sits you down to the hilt of his hip, burying his dick deep inside you.

Feeling the sensation of your hips rolling down and slowing to a standstill...he finally gets your body to a calm and tranquil state. Kissing you, he takes your limp body and holds you close while keeping his member buried deep inside your walls. Carrying you, he submerges your bodies in the water where it reaches both your chests. Kissing your neck and reaching up to your lips, he keeps you close as you both relish the sensation of the warm water enveloping your bodies.

Figuring you needed to rest from the vicious orgasm you just experienced, there wouldn't be any harm in keep you in the water with him.....of course, there was also the guesthouse that needed christening....much less the pool.....maybe the party wasn't as crowded as you thought.....

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️  ☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Prologue

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None for this chapter [this also isn’t beta’d so bear with me]

Notes: it took me so long to work up the courage to actually post my first work, so enjoy! I’ll be over here anxiously awaiting your thoughts.

Word Count: 705

Series Masterlist

A clear horizon. An orange sunset fading into vivid pinks and purples as the atmosphere darkens in preparation for the night. Evening sun warming your face, the space around you drifting into silence as calm settles into your bones, time halting its ever constant forward march, no thoughts or worries.

That’s what it felt like, the moment my eyes met Jasper Hale’s. Like I was done searching for what my heart was in need of as soon as I glanced into those golden pools of his.

• January 24th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

Based on the non-stop gossip floating around this microscopic high school, I’m the newest kid on the block. Dethroning the most recent to wear the title, Bella Swan, the Police Chief’s daughter.

Now, I’m not opposed to the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State, but Forks could strive to be a little more than a one-stoplight town and add a few more amenities. This big city Texas girl needs a little more than Forks Outfitters - the one stop shop for food, basic clothing, and hardware.

I left Dallas because my mom needed me here, my dad didn’t want to trade sunshine and big ranches for rain and freezing temperatures. They’re happily divorced, but I can tell that over time it’s worn her down. I’m just a junior in high school, but I guess she and I can navigate this together.

God, let there be cute boys at this high school, I’m begging you.

I was almost immediately accosted by what I deemed the welcoming committee the moment I locked the door to my car and began the dreaded ‘new kid’ trek to the front office of Forks High School. Stares came from anyone loitering in the parking lot before class while this overly-excited kid, who introduced himself as Eric Yorkie, began what had to be a well rehearsed ‘anything you need’ spiel.

All hopes of flying under the radar halfway through junior year vanished into thin air and I hadn’t even made it to the sidewalk yet.

“Eric? I really appreciate your help and concern, but I was hoping to kinda just glide in on my first day and blend in.” I said as we walked together through the wet parking lot, dodging the bigger puddles so I wouldn't soak my shoes before I got to my first class of the day.

“Oh that’s pretty much impossible here, newcomers are always the only thing everyone talks about. Don’t be scared to hit me up with questions later though, good luck!” Shouting that last part as he dashed off to class, turning the heads of a few close students.

A deep sigh passed my lips as I trudged on, pulling open the heavy door to the administration office. It’s nice to have someone offer help on my first day, I just wish this town was big enough so that I could get lost on everyone’s list of priorities to gossip about or stare at.

Today is going to be a long day.

“Good morning dear!” A sweet older woman announced from behind the central desk in the front office. The name plate in front of her reading ‘Administrative Secretary Shelly Cope’.

“Good morning Miss Cope. I’m Y/n Y/l/n, here to pick up my class schedule and hopefully a map of the place?” I said, cutting to the chase. The front office is a giant fish bowl to the students walking by outside, no one wants to spend more time than necessary here on their first day.

“Oh yes! I’ve got it all printed out and ready to go for ya dear, along with your locker assignment.” She says with a smile, passing the papers across her desk. “Let me know if you have any questions or if you need help with anything!”

“Yes ma’am, thank you!” I responded, half reading my new schedule - half aware of where I was going as I press a shoulder to the exit.

First period Biology

Second period English

Third period Spanish

Fourth period Trigonom-

The front office door smacks straight into an unsuspecting, gorgeous, golden-eyed fellow student, sending the papers clutched in my hands to the ground.

Next

[ambrosiaaddiction]

The Princess and The Tool’s Day Off

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ repair man!Simon Riley x curvy!Y/N

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: Slight nsfw excerpt from a series that most of us are familiar with.

₊˚ପ⊹ Word Count: 1.6k

₊˚ପ⊹ a/n: this is a special filler before part 2 & credit goes to @writingmyimagination

➽──────────────❥

Sunny days weren’t particularly (Y/N)’s favorite. But for some odd reason, on one of the brightest summer days, she decided to go to the pool and test out the amenities her apartment offered. Dressed in her white bikini top that had a deep v in the front and a crisscross back, she paired it with high waisted black bottoms with a white trim. She wore a black Pink brand baseball hat to conceal her face from the hot sun and hoped to avoid sunburn.

(Y/N) had always been the solitary type until Luna brightened up her life, whether she wanted her to or not. She chose her, and they’ve been friends since. She had the opportunity to spend time in the sun alone at their community pool, and hence she took it. The sun beaming down on her skin, allowing the heat to create small beads of sweat as she worked on her non-existent tan and read her book series. So engrossed in her fantasy world with her favorite steamy romance novel, she failed to notice the heavy gaze from a certain repair man while he let loose of some steam in the gym.

“Bloody hell.” Simon whistled as he silently cursed and praised his job’s layout of the gym and pool. The clubhouse that houses the gym was placed right next to the pool with an open view. The windows showed a one way reflection as he looked out to the sunny deserted place, finding the bane of his existence just giggling at her book. “She’s fuckin’ stunnin’.” He breathed out to no one in particular. “Those curves on display for the world. They aren’t worthy of this masterpiece.”

His muscles rippled with every set as he pushed himself further than usual, wanting his veins to pop just a bit more today. Heavy breaths and grunts escaping him, filling the room with a small echo. Considering he was the only person there. This was a typical day off for Simon. Work out when no one was around, wash off and spend his day doing something around his house. 

He knew he had a change of plans in order when near the end of his two hour workout, she was still there. He watched her occasionally get too hot, take her hat off, and dove into the deepest end of the pool. The first time, (Y/N) had him almost nearing the door, ready to save her when she didn’t come up for air. Only for him to realize she swam the length of the pool under water then would float just in the middle as if she was the only person in the world.

His favorite moment was when she’d use the ladder to climb out, the water dripping off her and he’d wish it was something else. Simon had been in quite the predicament after visiting her home and meeting both her and her best friend. He thought of her randomly after that and wondered if after he was done fixing stuff, would she’d still look at him with that cute pout every now and then.

He ached, his muscles burning from his intense regimen. He made use of the gyms showers and changed to his deep maroon swimming trunks. They were mid-thigh to show his toned muscular legs and tight, giving little to imagine if he stood just right. It’s not like he could help it if he was blessed in the areas most men would pay money for.

Once he walked out of the gym, he instantly made eye contact with her.

“Holy mother of all things good.” She muttered under her breath. Her eyes roamed over his chiseled arms, seeing the veins pop as they reached his hands. They trailed down his torso to the criminal happy trail leading down to a rather large bulge. He stood by the outside shower and pulled on the lever, letting the water run and hit his body. He purposely ignored the lingering stare, and held back from giving her the same kind of attention.

She snapped out of her head, turning her attention back to the book. She realized she was at the part where the ravenous viscount took his mistress against a tree in the open. Her face darkened into a deep red as her mind began whirling with imagination, the words fueling her desire as she feels the heat against her skin.

➽──────────────❥

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he violently thrust into her like a mad man, trying to satisfy a insatiable desire. His hands holding the soft plush underside of her thighs and their grip tightening occasionally when he feels her walls clench. The moans leaving her body as he pushes her against the tree, her undergarments long retired and lost. “We shouldn’t… ngh—“ he covers her lips with his own and pulls back, looking deep into her soul. “Just give me everything, princess. I want to feel you lose yourself against me.” She gives out a rather breathless sigh as her orgasm pools in the depths of her stomach—

➽──────────────❥

“Hi, (Y/N). How’s the breaker working so far?” A deep voice pulled (Y/N) out of her fantasy. The owner of said voice was a pleasant surprise, and she gave him a radiant smile. She then put her book down on the table next to her. “Hey, Simon! It’s been good so far, and no complaints. Thank you, Sir.” Her chaste manners, as well as the unexpected term, caught him off guard.

“Good to hear.” Simon’s chest swelled with pride from the compliments. Especially when it was so genuine and sweet. Like her. “Sorry if I’m interruptin’ your sun, usually ’m the only one here. S’nice to see someone else enjoyin’ the amenities.” He was glad that someone happened to be (Y/N). She motioned to the lounge chair next to her. “Take a seat! I don’t mind company at all—I should probably take a rest from reading anyways.”

He glanced over to the table and she nervously reached for her hat that’s right next to it. (Y/N)’s cleavage taunted him as she bent forward. She placed it back on and smiled before her timer to flip went off. She stood as he set up on the lounge chair next to her. He watched her lower the back to a lying position and then climbed down. Her perfectly plush round ass jiggling in the air as she became comfortable and laid her head on her folded arms, looking over at him.

Simon laid back and tried his best to be a gentleman as he too basked in the sun. A short comfortable silence soon fell among the both of them as the wind blew, offering some relief from the heat. His gaze got the best of him, and he could see her figure in his peripheral vision as she smiled to nothing.  

Minutes passed and (Y/N)’s timer went off again. They both looked at one another and glanced at the pool. A silent nod of approval is shared, and you both stand. Simon’s the first to go in and watched as she dove in the water. Small ripples formed around him, and he felt her near in seconds as she came up for air. He noticed she couldn’t stand like him where she was, so he offered his arm as a float for her to take a rest. (Y/N) slowly reached out and touched his wrist, going up his arm as she sought a comfortable position to just float. With a gentle tug, Simon guided her over to the shallow side. Once she could stand on her own, she reluctantly let go of his arm.

“You’re beautiful, you know.” He vocalized his inner thoughts. For a man of few words, he succeeded in receiving an adorable reaction from (Y/N). Her cheeks bloomed a soft pink, and she shyly averted her gaze. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” This came as a shock to Simon, and yet, he never felt more elated. “So we can both agree there’s an attraction. How about you let me take you out?”

He quickly added, “No rush on the answer, but just let me know when I can come by to check on the paint.” He didn’t want her to feel as though she was being pressured. If anything, her consent mattered most, and he worried he’d scare her off. “O-Okay, I’ll ponder it.” (Y/N) agreed, which brought a smile to his features. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The rest of the afternoon is spent swimming and sunbathing until dusk.

They both packed up their personal belongings, and he walked her back to her apartment. Even though it was in the opposite direction of his, but that was irrelevant. Once at the entrance of her place, the Ring camera chimed, letting her know they’re being recorded. (Y/N) already knew Luna was going to want all the answers.

“I had fun today. Thank you for the unexpected company.” She turned to face Simon properly, her eyes bright and her arms hugging her bag closely to her chest. Smiling, he shook his head. “You’re welcome, doll. But I think ’m the grateful one here.”

There’s a small silence and only (Y/N) can hear Luna shout from the inside, “YOU BETTER KISS THAT MAN OR I WILL.” (Y/N) held back a laugh and reached forward, her hand going to his bicep. She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. The softness of her lips igniting a spark in him he hadn’t felt in ages. “Good night, Simon.”

Right then and there, he felt like he was going to stop breathing. She certainly knew how to steal his breath away without even trying. “Have a good night, (Y/N). I hope you have sweet dreams.” He whispered lowly just so that his words resonated deeply in her.

With that, he took a few steps back and watched her head inside until she closed the door behind her. He began the walk back to his apartment, dreading for work tomorrow. Simon knew there would be a lot of picking up his co-workers’ slack. But this time, his thoughts would be full of her.

[lsartcorner]

I think it’s time to reveal my Wir/Turbo AU isn’t it?

Yes, yes it is

(Logo, basic character designs & a lil exposition of the au below!)

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You ready? Lets go

Welcome too…

Game explanation

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A Version of TurboTime where instead of racing cars the characters are racing on Jetski’s and to fit the theme the landscape of the game is a summer paradise by the shoreline where the characters can relax and hangout in after the arcade closes.

Not only is there Turbo and the Twins in this game but also two new summer themed racers Sunny and Flora to join them in the competition!

Sunny would be considered the secondary protagonist of the game who has comparable stats to the man himself.

In this version of the game any of the 5 racers can be chosen, not just Turbo like from the base game, this is to ensure people can choose their favourite character and to ensure multiplayer capability.

Each character has their own unique stats and skill sets with Turbo and Sunnys being the best being the protagonists, but it doesn’t mean you can win with anyone else, you’ve just got to try a bit more.

With each character comes with character exclusive skills and abilities which is to encourage players to play the secondary characters, for there to be a reason on why they should be played in the first place.

There are an assortment of maps, upgrades and achievements to unlock playing the game if you are skilled or lucky enough in finding them. This is to ensure that each game is unique from the last, with each player upgrading and choosing to their style so it rarely would get boring for the characters, testing stuff on different maps alongside the player.

Why was developed? (In lore)

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The developers wanted to create a motorcycle esque racing arcade cabinet with a summer twist and decided to reutilise an old classic ip of theirs into the modern day for the modern audience, so putting them on the beach with new characters and jetskis just worked!

The arcade

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Mr Litwak saw this and decided to give it a go for old times sake and kids like the summer and racing so why not combine them? And who knows maybe it could be as successful as the OG TurboTime?

However the characters in the arcade seeing this are weary and uncertain of this new game, only thinking of the worst and what happened last time, with not only the Roadblasters incident of 1987 but also of what Turbo did in Sugar Rush behind everyone’s noses, especially Vanellope, for 15 years nonetheless.

This would cause most characters to go past it with a 5 metre poll, not wanting to be involved in what would happen if they did. Even when a character or two go inside to have a look and say it’s fine, people are still cautious because “it’s only early days” and continue with their daily routine and spreading rumours about what they see from their cabinets on the game and its characters.

Despite this intermingling, when characters that were in the OG game (Turbo & the Twins) ask what they’re talking about, they act inconspicuous and nonchalant with the twins while being more defensive and hostile with Turbo himself, irritating him to no end especially when he has no clue what is going on having just been plugged in and being seemingly on hated by everyone in the arcade immediately.

With this uncooperative behaviour from many people in the arcade the characters tend to stay in the game itself most of the time and considering they have all the amenities they need in game, this isn’t much of a conundrum. Essentially leaving the game in a world of its own unknown of the main body of the arcade and they intend to keep it that way for the most part, until a certain something happens lore-wise which you will need to stay updated on if you want to find out what!

(Wink wink nudge nudge 😉)

How/what kind of posts will be done?

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For this au I will post either,

- Non story based artworks/doodles of the characters

- Short comic strips of character interactions which I intend to mostly be unrelated to the main story itself, but no promises here

- The AUs main story comics

- Updates/revamps

- Answering questions on the AU

In a few hours time I will start releasing full character designs & descriptions, so look out for that!

Then once that’s all said and done, expect what is on the list to come after, especially the comics, have had many ideas for them!

Now that’s all I can think of from the top of my head for now, so now I think it’s time you saw the basic character designs for this AU!

(Btw if you got this far well done I kinda wrote more than expected and may or may not have created a text wall, whoops! This AU has been on my mind for days and it needed to be seen sooner or later.)

(Fun fact! The idea of this AU is actually from my first WiR/Turbo fixation around this time last year, and it only came back with a roaring passion after being reminded of it having watched a particular 2 hour video everyone knows of *cough cough*, so if you want to see og sketches let me know!)

I have written so much and definitely need some sleep.

Hope you enjoyed & stay tuned!

- LsArtCorner

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

What did the Roche/Ciri ship do to you? Why is he bad? Is his existence simply an insult to you?

okay, anon, you've won me over.

i've written a roche/ciri fic just for you. It's about fighting injustice, realising the world is so much bigger than you ever realised, bonding over feeling different, finding love in unexpected places even when everyone else is against your relationship, and a shared love of music.

I've put it under the cut because its quite long. Enjoy!

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.

Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second.

Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead.

I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? -

A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know.

But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that.

A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone.

Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.

Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow!

Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power.

More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don't we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative.

Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.

What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement?

I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there.

- Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess.

"Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do.

Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee.

Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. -

Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite!

She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working?

I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease.

Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! -

It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves.

Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Oarl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. -

Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no!

[walkswithmyfather]

Ephesians 6:10-18 (AMP)

John 10:10 (GNT). “The thief comes only in order to steal, kill, and destroy. I have come in order that you might have life—life in all its fullness.”

James 4:7 (AMP). “So submit to [the authority of] God. Resist the devil [stand firm against him] and he will flee from you.” Friend, be prepared! The devil actively seeks to destroy you! Put on your spiritual armor daily!

Ephesians 6: 10-18 (AMP). “In conclusion, be strong in the Lord [draw your strength from Him and be empowered through your union with Him] and in the power of His [boundless] might. Put on the full armor of God [for His precepts are like the splendid armor of a heavily-armed soldier], so that you may be able to [successfully] stand up against all the schemes and the strategies and the deceits of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood [contending only with physical opponents], but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this [present] darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly (supernatural) places. Therefore, put on the complete armor of God, so that you will be able to [successfully] resist and stand your ground in the evil day [of danger], and having done everything [that the crisis demands], to stand firm [in your place, fully prepared, immovable, victorious]. So stand firm and hold your ground, having tightened the wide band of truth (personal integrity, moral courage) around your waist and having put on the breastplate of righteousness (an upright heart), [Is 11:5] and having strapped on your feet the gospel of peace in preparation [to face the enemy with firm-footed stability and the readiness produced by the good news]. [Is 52:7] Above all, lift up the [protective] shield of faith with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. [Is 59:17] With all prayer and petition pray [with specific requests] at all times [on every occasion and in every season] in the Spirit, and with this in view, stay alert with all perseverance and petition [interceding in prayer] for all God’s people.”

Friend, be prepared! The devil actively seeks to destroy you! Put on your spiritual armor daily! Amen! 🙏🙏🙏

[guilty-pleasures21]

Prologue

Warnings: mentions of abuse.

----------------------------------------------------------

     He hugged his knees to his chest, sniffling to himself as he huddled in the corner of the empty stall. A stray tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it away quickly, wincing when his fingers brushed across the open cut on his cheekbone. He was fine, he was safe: no one would come looking for him in the stables. He just needed a moment to get his emotions under control, then he could return to the house and act as if nothing had ever happened - just the way his mother always did when it came to his- when it came to the Baron. A flash of movement caught his eye and he glanced up to find the curious gaze of his neighbour peeking at him over the stall. Her lips formed an ‘o’ when she noticed his puffy eyes and she disappeared for a second only to open the stall door so she could sink onto the hay beside him. 

     “Miguel? What happened?” She reached up to brush his wavy brown locks away from his face, then sucked in a breath when she saw the cuts and bruises littering his skin. Miguel turned away from her and hugged himself tighter, not wanting her to see him in such a state, and she ran back out of the stall. She returned not long after, however, this time carrying a basket full of what he guessed was medical supplies. She lowered herself to the ground again, her traditional pink Punjabi outfit wrinkling beneath her knees, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, then she began patching him up silently. Miguel flinched every time she dabbed her herbal mixture on one of his cuts, and though she’d pause to give him a sheepish smile each time, she’d continue to work on it anyway. Finally, when she was done, she set her basket aside and turned to face him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

     She placed a hand on his knee, rubbing it gently as she waited for him to process his thoughts. Miguel released his tight hold on himself and sighed, relaxing a little as the fruity smell of her floated through the air and reminded him that he wasn’t alone anymore. 

     “It was the Baron,” he finally revealed, still refusing to meet her gaze. X leaned over slightly, trying to catch his eye, her features scrunched up in confusion. 

     “Your father?” she questioned. Miguel’s features hardened and he shook his head quickly. 

     “He’s not my father,” he replied fiercely, pulling his knees back to his chest and clenching his fists in anger. “At least, that’s what I found out today.” 

     His mind replayed the hateful words of the Baron, yelling at him about being the illegitimate half-breed b*stard of some pompous nobleman who had had the bad fortune of being seduced by his immigrant mother while she’d been working as a maid in his household. His chest tightened at the reminder that the past fifteen years of his life had been a lie, and he curled into himself as his injuries started stinging at the memory of the Baron’s open palms and broken bottles. His neighbour wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight, and he felt the tension start to ease from his body as she ran her fingers through his hair. They sat in silence for a while longer, then X piped up from beside him. “My mother’s making briyani today. We could ask Gabe to convince your mother to let you come over?” 

     She finally released her hold on him, sitting back to look up at him and wait for his response. Miguel slid his gaze over to her, thinking. 

     His mother probably wouldn’t object considering the fight she’d just been in with his- with the Baron. She’d always dismiss her sons whenever she was upset, locking herself in her room after her husband had retired to his chambers with yet another bottle of liquor. But she’d always been more amenable to his brother’s suggestions than his own - probably because his brother was apparently the only legitimate child she’d ever had. He nodded at X and pushed himself to his feet, but hesitated, not ready to return home just yet.

     She stood up beside him and waited patiently for him to make a move. But he was probably too afraid to go home given what had just happened. She let her gaze trail over him again and her heart constricted at the sight of all the violent blemishes marking his skin. She reached forward and took hold of his forearm to give him a reassuring squeeze. “Wait here, I’ll go find Gabe.” 

     He let out a sigh of relief at her suggestion - at her understanding - and nodded in agreement. X gave him a last sweet smile, then ran off to go find his brother while he waited there, glad that she’d found him in the stables.

Next chapter

Taglist: @zayai @amberbalcom14 I'm just adding you to this one because I'm not sure if you wanted to be part of this too, so just let me know if you want to continue being tagged in the comments below, otherwise I won't include you on any further chapters.miguel

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 19

First / Previous / Next

After lunch, a few crew members came up to Fen and invited her down to the shooting range.

"What do you say, Ms. Whitehorse?" One of them, a youngish man with dark hair and a close cropped beard asked shyly.

Fen smiled. "Fen is fine. Sure, let me go fetch my rifle and I'll go to the range." She turned. "Kel, would you like to come too?"

Kel held both of her hands out in surrender. "No thanks Fen! I just barely passed my shooting test, I'll stick to plants for now. You go have fun."

Fen went to her temporary quarters and grabbed her rifle and met the crew at the range a few minutes later. Dreams was large enough that it had quite a few amenities and a large rifle range was among them. It was in the bottom rear of the ship, next to the hold, and when Fen showed up, everyone was getting issued their ammunition. Fen took her spot in line and when she stepped up the armorer asked what she needed.

"I need rounds for a Mk47 main battle rifle." Fen hefted her weapon up to the counter so that the armorer could see it. Her rifle was given to her by Gord, and printed to her specifications. It was sky blue, with a dark blue K'laxi pattern along the stock running up the barrel and looked out of place among the sea of coal black rifles. The armorer blinked and stared.

"A Mk47? Why are you shooting that antique? That hasn't been standard issue for centuries! I don't even know if I have rounds that big, I have to go back to the magazine and look."

Fen crossed her arms. "The Mk47 is a classic. It has the stopping power necessary to take on any biological opponent, will stop all consumer and many military grade walking frames, is easy to clean and parts can be printed anywhere with nearly any resolution printer available."

The armorer shrugged. "Fine, fine. You clearly know your stuff. Let me go look in the back." While the armorer disappeared, Fen talked with the others. Gev had invited her, he worked in the main battery and gushed about how she took down Ellen.

"I can't say she was everyone's favorite, but I didn't expect anyone to just snap and slam her head like that! I can't believe you got in so fast."

Fen's face hardened. "She was flinging slurs at me. I'm proud of who I am."

Gev nodded quickly "I get it, I get it. I was born on Parvati and even though I grew up in Regantown on Venus people still think of me as just a colonist. I never dislocated a shoulder though."

"If Gev liked normal food like us, we'd probably make fun of him less!" One of the crew with them said. The others laughed.

Gev winced. "They don't like Parvatian food. They said it's too 'ethnic.' As if having a spice other than cilantro and salt is ethnic!"

Fen smiled tightly. She had a hunch that Gev was downplaying how much of a hard time they gave him.

The armorer returned and practically threw three magazines onto the counter. "Here. Any more and I'll have to run the printers. You're lucky that we even had those. Regs state we need to have some rounds of just about every size."

Fen thanked the armorer, scooped up the magazines and joined Gev and his friends. They were chatting and each taking turns running a timed event. In thirty seconds, targets would appear all over the range, and the person with the most accurate strikes got the most points. Fen had done this drill with Gord quite a bit when she was learning, so she was broadly familiar with it. She checked over the ammunition the armorer gave her, and got a magazine ready.

When it was her turn, she stepped up to the counter, loaded and cocked her rifle, and lifted it up to her shoulder. "Ready."

There was a tone, and the first target appeared. Fen slowed her breathing, sighting, squeezing and felt the pressure on her shoulder from her gun. Almost as soon as her finger brushed the trigger, her peripheral vision was already looking for the next target. The Mk47 was a much larger and louder rifle than what Gev and his friends fired. The noise of hers was deafening in the range, and everyone stopped shooting to watch.

The world shrank for Fen. It became her, the rifle, the target and the next target. Over and over, one after another until another tone sounded the end of the drill.

Blinking, Fen ejected the empty magazine, and set the rifle down. She rolled her shoulders back, putting her hands on the back of her hips. "I need to get down here more, that felt rusty." She turned to see everyone staring at her. "What? Was it that bad?"

Gev silently pointed to the scoreboard near the front of the range. Her name was at the top, with the highest score, and three little stars next to the number.

"What are the stars?"

"One star means the high score for the month. Two stars means the high score since deployment. Three stars is the highest score recorded."

Fen looked at the scoreboard. She had beaten the next score under hers by over one hundred points. She nodded once. "Looks to me like you're all slacking." She smiled and slotted another magazine. "Reset the drill, I bet I can do better."

Fen spent the rest of the time at the range giving out impromptu lessons in shooting. Everyone was so sloppy. She wondered if it was something to do with Imperial training or the fact that it was just her and Gord for so long she had extra experience. After about an hour, everyone's scores were improving but they were clearly getting tired. "Well, I'm out of ammunition now, and if I ask the armorer for more I think she's going to throw them at me. Let's stop for today."

Fen and the others stepped away from the firing line and cleaned and oiled their rifles. The others checked them back in with the armorer and Fen slung hers to her back. As they were getting ready to leave, Captain Cooper walked in. Everyone froze and immediately saluted.

She smiled broadly. "At ease, I'm here to congratulate our guest. Overall high score? Very impressive. I had no idea you were such a shooter!"

Fen tried to demure. "Thank you Captain, it's just practice."

Captain Cooper shook her head. "Nonsense. Practice is but one aspect. You have to have skill, experience and training to get that good. You must have been training for a long time."

"For a few years yes, but it was more that I spent nearly every down moment on my previous ship at the range. There wasn't much else to do aboard ship, so I just practiced."

Captain Cooper turned to the crew. "See what a human can do with practice and motivation? She's beaten the all time score onboard on her first attempt! I want to see those scores improving. I'm going to allow her score to stand even though she's not crew to show you what humans are capable of." She turned back to Fen. "Walk with me, Ms. Whitehorse."

They walked down the hall, Captain Cooper's polished boots clicking on the decks. As they walked everyone gave them a wide berth. "Ms. Whitehorse, you are quite a specimen." Fen glanced at the Captain. She was at least one head taller than Fen, and her uniform was tailored to within an inch of it's life. There were no folds or creases out of place anywhere. She had a leather shoulder holster with a well oiled pistol under her left arm. Her short hair was impeccable and she wore her hat at a rakish angle. Her grin was predatory.

"Yes, Captain?" Fen wasn't sure what she meant, but had a hunch it wasn't anything good.

"Despite your... upbringing and your... own choices, you are a beacon of humanity in this galaxy. You are a skilled fighter, a shooting phenom, you're a polyglot, and an able teacher. Fenchurch Whitehorse, you are what we strive for in the Empire. You're able to go through the galaxy and show those... other sapients what humanity is all about." The captain stopped in front of a large widow and looked out. In the distance was the brownish blue orb of K'lax. "Do you know the motto of the Human Empire? Superiores sumus quia debemus 'We are better, because we have to'." She looked away from the window and continued to walk. "Fenchurch. Fen. You represent the ideals that we strive for. You are superior because you are human. You have taken the skills and abilities given to you by your birth and turned them - despite growing up among the-" her voice darkens "-Gren, despite being raised K'laxi you are human."

Uh, thank you Captain, but I'm just me." Fen's mind was reeling. What was going on?

"That's exactly right Fen. You are you. You are human. You are superior. The others out there? The Innari, the Sefigans, the Gren, the Xenni, and yes, even our old friends the K'laxi, they don't understand what it means to be human. What it means to be better."

Fen didn't say anything. What could she say? As they were walking, Fen noticed an outline in the hall. There was no door handle, and no touchpad, but there was a small stenciled sign in Gord's old language. Gord tried to teach her some, but it made no sense. She was able to read a little bit but only after she translated it to Colonic in her head. She hadn't realized Dreams was that old. In a very small font, worn with time and age it said

AI Core

An AI? Here? Fen didn't know much about the Empire but she knew they didn't like AIs. What was an AI Core room doing here, even looking as old and abandoned as it was. She was snapped back to reality by Captain Cooper stopping. "Fen, I am pleased you joined us. I think you have been a... breath of fresh atmosphere for the crew. Please consider signing on with the Imperial Navy. I have some pull back on Venus, I come from a... prominent family. I could get you fast tracked to officer. In a few years you'd probably have your own command. I'd hate to see you... waste your best years out there."

Every nerve in Fen's body told her to just nod along, but not to agree to anything. The last thing she wanted to do was join the Empire, especially after a speech like that. Fen wondered if it was supposed to sound complimentary. "Thank you for saying so Captain. I'm glad I could help out. I'll think on what you said."

She smiled broadly and lightly brushed her shoulder. "You do that, Fen. There are more benefits to the Empire than you know." She bent her head lower to be in line with Fen's. "When it's just the two of us, you can call me Crystal." She purred.

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - Epilogue

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.  

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).**  Apologies for the possibly dubious Spanish in this chapter, and a little suggestive dialogue up front, but no other warnings. Summary: The first people you and Pero meet in Spain come bearing remarkable and unexpected surprises. Notes: Immense thanks to all of you for following along with this little trip through time. It has been such immense fun to explore in two universes at once, and so gratifying to build a family that very literally stands the test of time. Every time we embark on a new story we take a chance by stepping into the unknown, and every time it’s wonderous to see how lovingly you all respond. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

Nine months was honestly less time than you thought it would take to get everything ready to move, especially with Beth and Will’s wedding planning underway. But their wedding was now an entire month ago, and you have unpacked every box in the ‘new’ Tovar farmhouse which is still well over a hundred years old. All of the amenities and utilities are up to date and the contractors had done an amazing job redoing the kitchen prior to your arrival, and Pero’s adventure in building permits and historical society red tape have led to some interesting situations in restoring the thousand-year-old farmhouse that he was born in.

First thing every morning - all four of them that you have been here for - he goes out to the old farmhouse and works from after breakfast until sundown clearing out all the many years’ worth of muck and build up in the place. It had been a barn for centuries, apparently, and then a storage shed, and there are stacks of things inside that require going through before Pero can start in on replacing the roof with an approved, historically-correct thatched one like it had when his parents lived there.

You have been setting up the main house room by room, with the bedroom and the bathrooms coming first, and today you’re tackling the kitchen. The fact that everything is unpacked just means you have towering piles of things on the countertops to find homes for, but you turn on the radio to a local station and get to work. If all goes well, you’ll have things put away and be able to make it into town for groceries to make Pero an actual home cooked dinner for the first time in your new home.

Pero opens the door to the kitchen, sweating and already in search of a drink. Stripping off the thick leather gloves, he walks directly to the refrigerator that he loves and opens the door to grab the carafe of cold water you have taken to keeping in there for him. “It is nearly cleaned out.” He grunts, looking around for a glass. You scolded him when he drank directly from the bottle, so he doesn’t do that anymore.

“Glasses are in the cabinet right next to the fridge,” you tell him, busy on the other side of the kitchen figuring out how to make all of your cookware fit in the open-air shelving. “That was fast, amor. Was it not as bad as we thought?”

“No, it’s bad.” Pero finds a glass and pours it full. Gulping down the liquid in great gulps that seem to echo in the still empty kitchen. “I will have to dig out the flooring— if it’s still there.”

“But the clutter will be out soon, which will be good.” Years of Tetris come in handy when trying to organize cabinets, and you slide the last pot into place before setting your cauldron on the shelf beneath it. The big, cast-iron pot was a gift from Pero and you have every intention of bringing magic back to this home as soon as possible.

“Disgusting.” Pero murmurs, a scowl on his face as he pours a smaller glass. “Using it as a fucking storage building.”

“It will be restored again soon.” You don’t care about sweat or warmth – Valencia’s summers are definitely warm – you wipe your hands and move across the room to hug him. “Your parents would be proud.”

“I hope so.” The area where his mamá had been buried was long since grown over, the plain markers gone. But Pero had cleaned the area up and has plans on marking it with a stone to remember his parents by.

“I’m sure of it.” You would certainly be proud if it was your son returning home after a thousand years to return his homestead to what it once was - you cannot imagine his own mamá is anything less as she looks down on him. “Do you want to walk down to the church later to light a candle for your parents?” According to what you had read, the current stone church in the village was built on the same foundation of the ancient one after it was destroyed sometime in the late Middle Ages, which means it won’t be the same church he was baptized in, but it’s in the same place. “It would be nice to make friends with the priest and see if he will let us look through the old records for your family.”

“Sí.” He knows they have caused a stir, returning and buying the land. But he doesn’t know if any from Arwena and Briac’s brood survived past bearing children or what became of them. It would be good to learn.

“In the meantime…” You give him a concerned look. “Is there anything I can do to help you? I don’t have to do the kitchen today. I can help you in the farmhouse if you want.” Bowie has been at his side all morning, but he isn’t much help with cleaning.

“You do not want to shovel shit and mud out from the house.” Pero shakes his head. “I appreciate it, amor.”

“I would do it if you asked me.” You would do anything he asked you. Even clean through shit and mud. “It’s not like I have a job to go to. I’m at your disposal.” Quitting that god awful office job had been so freeing that you had actually cried. Pure relief at being free to do whatever brought you joy has been a very odd feeling to adjust to.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You do have a job, amor.” He corrects you. “Tinkering with your herbs and setting up your kitchen. That is your job today. Just like mine is going to be making you cum on that countertop when it is clear.”

“I think being a lady of leisure might suit me.” If a life of tinkering and witchcraft and sex is what it has in store? Yes, please.

Pero smirks, more of a leer as he winks at you. “Happy to provide your deepest wishes, amor.” He promises before he sets the glass in the sink. He still hasn’t gotten the hang of a dishwasher and is scared of breaking the delicate glasses in this time.

“You’ve been doing that since the very beginning, amor.” Leaning across the counter to kiss him again, you huff playfully when the knocker on the front door can be heard loud and clear. “Who could that be?” Whoever they are, they’ll be the first people you’ve met since getting here besides the previous owners of the small farm and your contractor.

“I don’t know.” Pero tenses, his hands automatically reaching for the knife that is always on his body unless he is naked with you. He has relaxed quite a bit since coming to this time, but he’s not sure if he will ever not be on guard when surprised. “Do you wish for me to open the door?”

“I’ll get it. Don’t worry.” Any gossip that’s gotten around will say that the newcomers are from America, so you figure you might as well give the people what they’re so curious about.

Pero moves with you, not trusting anyone who calls unannounced so he will be a hulking shadow behind you. A warning to not try anything with his soulmate.

Neither of you is expecting the heart attack that is waiting for you on your doorstep. At the end of the stone path lined by flowers that leads to your little house, right at your front door when you pull it open, stands a cheerful young couple with a covered platter in their hands and curious smiles on their faces. But more remarkable than anything else is the young woman...who is the spitting image of Arwena Tovar. It's all you can do not to exclaim when you open the door, realizing it isn't actually her only by her height - she is a full six inches taller than Arwena, if your memory of the petite girl serves correctly. "I—um—" Shake it off, you tell yourself, realizing you're staring. "Hola." When you can finally get a single word out, more mercifully following. "Qué tal?" Hi. How are you?

Instantly, Pero knows this woman is related to your family. “Mierda.” He whispers, making the stranger’s eyes flicker to him before she offers a friendly smile.

Alana Tovar nods politely. “Buenos días. Queríamos darle la bienvenida a nuestro humilde barrio.” Good day. We wanted to welcome you to our humble neighborhood. If she is shocked to see an American – she can tell by the accent – she doesn’t show it.

"Gracias, gracias..." You feel like you can barely keep your eyes in your head, but you step back and wave the young couple inside as politely and happily as you can. "Entrasteis, por favor. Vos gustaríais una bebida?" Come inside, please. Would you like a drink?

Alana turns to Jorge and nods when he gives a small nod himself. “Sí.” She murmurs before she offers the platter in her hand to you. “Para usted.” For you.

"We speak English." The gangly young man who steps in after the woman offers you and Pero a lopsided smile. Through his thick accent, he sounds almost like sunshine. Chipper, yes, but also warm.

“Then we will speak English.” Pero murmurs, introducing you first. “My wife, and I am Pero Tovar.” He waves them both towards the chairs you had insisted needed to be in the kitchen and starts clearing off the space in front of them.

“Tovar?” The young woman seems to move as gently as a tree bending in the wind. Clutching the platter still in her hands, she stops halfway to the seat she is being offered and sways on the spot. “I am Alana Tovar.” She introduces herself, obviously surprised by the shared name. “This is my partner, Jorge Reyes. We live just across the street.”

Pero nods, already knowing that she must be related due to her looking so much like her ancestor. “Are you from this area?” He asks, looking over at her curiously. It’s amazing the small differences now that she’s closer, but she could be Arwena’s sister.

“Sí.” Alana nods as Jorge takes the platter from her hands and sets it down on the counter. “My family has always lived here. Please…this is for you. A coca de llanda with orange. It is a family recipe…you would call it a kind of cake, I think?”

Just from the name of the cake, Pero’s eyes light up. “It sounds delicious.” Pero tells her immediately. “We must have some. With our drinks. Tea, or coffee?” Coffee has become a beloved drink for Pero despite your love of tea, so there is always both. “We do have ale, too.”

"It is best with coffee." Jorge chimes in, rubbing Alana's shoulders in an act of both pride and encouragement. The young man eyes your Nespresso machine happily, seeing that it is already set up on the counter while you reach into the cabinet above it to retrieve a few cups and plates. "We are curious," he begins, almost like he's unsure if he should ask. "We heard that the people buying the farm were family. But Alana did not know she had any family in the United States."

"Until recently, I did not know I had any family in Spain," you explain, wondering exactly how to tiptoe around the topic. "Of course, my husband was born here."

Pero is ready for the questions, feeling the eyes shift to him. “My family moved around quite a bit when I was younger.” He tells them as if his parents weren’t buried in this very earth less than three hundred yards away. “I have heard stories of family but never met anyone.”

"You are...both Tovars?" Alana has set about cutting slices of the delicious looking cake after you pulled out a knife and forks to go with the plates, but pauses to look between you and Pero.

"Sort of?" Setting up a little assembly line at the Nespresso machine, you start to make drinks for everyone. "We are both descended from the Tovar clan very distantly. Many generations back, we each branched off from the main family tree. I was not born a Tovar at all."

Pero chuckles, wondering what they would say if they knew he was the patriarch of the family and yet not related by blood at all. You are— but that is a different story. “We did not know of the connection when we met.” He explains. “We were just…almas gemelas.” Soulmates.

“So are we.” Jorge boasts, placing his hands on Alana’s shoulders again and puffing up his chest proudly. “I knew the second I saw her. Like…like a fairy tale, no?”

“It is.” Pero grins at you, well aware that your story could be a movie thing that you love making him watch. “The Sassenach and the Spaniard.” He teases, reaching out and squeezing your hip.

"Sassenach?" Alana asks, recognizing the word from her favourite American television show but not knowing why he has said it.

Pero rolls his eyes over to you, smirking. “It means outsider.” He explains. “She called herself that when we met. After insulting me and sparking my interest with her witch’s tongue.”

"He also calls me bruja," you volunteer, laughing about it slightly as you pass out demi cups of espresso. A part of you is curious about just how many witches are even in your family line, but you pass it off as a joke for now. There's no use in raising alarm bells with your neighbors and far-flung cousin right off the bat.

Alana nods knowingly. “If you are a Tovar, that is a part of your charm.” She chuckles. “We come from a long line of brujas, though most of the knowledge is lost.”

"Are you—?" Not expecting her to be so forthcoming, you must look as shocked as you are excited. "Do you...practice magic?"

Jorge’s smile turns a little defensive, a move Pero recognizes instantly. He is not magical, but he is protective of his soulmate. He understands it, even today there is a stigma.

“I have managed to—”

“Cielo.” Jorge whispers, shaking his head warily. You are strangers after all, even if you are distantly related.

"It's okay." You promise him, realizing that there are plenty of people in the world who would judge Alana for the gift she has inherited. From under your shirt, you pull a necklace that bears a pendant with the symbol of the triple goddess stamped in pewter and show it to the younger couple. "I have practiced for a very long time." That is an odd sort of understatement. "You have nothing to fear from us, I promise."

Alana reaches over and lays her hand on top of Jorge’s. “I have a feeling about them.” She promises her soulmate, giving him a look that said more than what her words could.

“We both practice.” Pero offers, although he does not wear the pendant you do. “What is a soulmate bond if not magic? Anyone who will judge for having more is simply stupid.”

"Actually, I have something you might be interested in." Glancing back at Pero, he gives you a nod before stepping aside, knowing what you intend to show this new girl. She reminds the two of you so much of Arwena that he understands your eagerness to share with her, even if he would probably be more guarded by himself. "Not all of our family's knowledge has been lost. And my Spanish is not good enough to be able to read everything in this book. Pero has read through things with me, but you might, well..." You shrug, producing a large box from the cabinet beneath the open shelves where you had been storing cookware not twenty minutes ago. "This belonged to my grandmother, and she left it to me."

The gasp Alana let’s is overshadowed by the sound of breaking porcelain. “Mierda!” She hisses, jumping up from where she had dropped her coffee cup and shattered it on the ground. “I am so sorry! perdóname!” Forgive me!

"Está bien. Calmate." It's okay. Take it easy. Though you hadn't necessarily expected that big of a reaction, you can absolutely understand it. Pero jumps forward to clean up the broken cup and you put your hand on Alana's arm in reassurance. "I do not believe in coincidences anymore," you tell her and Jorge honestly. "Everything that has happened in my life has happened for a reason. So perhaps one of the reasons I have this is to be able to share it with you."

“I have—that book.” Alana is emotional and nearly tearing up. “I have heard stories about the book my entire life.” She explains. “My mother told me that the book was not shared anymore because one side of the family traveled away. But that it would come home someday.”

"I looked into my ancestry." The grimoire is heavy and delicate, but you lift it from the box and set it on the clear counter with care. "My branch of the family left Spain hundreds of years ago and has traveled extensively. So there is more than just English and Spanish written here, but...it is all our family."

“You did not keep the Tovar name?” She asks, curious as to how your ancestors worked. “On my side, there is a tradition if it was the last daughter, the soulmate would take the name Tovar.” She tilts her head. “Although your family kept the tradition of naming a girl after the original soulmates.” She hums turning Pero. “As did your parents. There is a generation of boys and girls with your names in our family for as long as I can remember. I was upset as a little girl that my sister had your name.” She gives a quiet laugh and shrugs. “But Alana suits me.”

“A—a tradition?” Trying not to seem overly gobsmacked, you can’t help the wonder in your eyes as you reach for Pero’s hand and hold on tight. “I had no idea…” How could you be so entirely clueless as to these traditions and yet be at the very center of them? There are swaths of boys and girls in your family named after you and Pero and yet you had no clue. “My mother kept me entirely separate from our family. She…she believes magic is dangerous. But I think it is a miracle.”

“She must have believed at some point.” Alana’s heart hurts at the idea of being kept separate from her family and she reaches out to clasp your hand over the cover of the grimoire. “Otherwise you would not bear our ancestor’s name. The stories say she was a powerful bruja. Her and her soulmate.” She bites her lip. “I have the history of our family, the ones who stayed in Spain – if you would like to see it.”

“Oh yes.” Nodding immediately, you place your other hand on hers and squeeze gently. Reassuringly. “We would love to see that. A-and…to hear the stories? If you know them?”

Jorge chuckles, making Alana fluster. “My soulmate loves collecting stories about the family.” He promises, reaching over and rubbing her shoulder affectionately. “She will talk about it all day.”

“We would love to hear them,” you promise her, water rising slightly behind your eyes as you look up at Pero. To think that Arwena and Briac founded an entire family line – a proud one that still exists in multiple forms to this day – is both mind boggling and somehow unsurprising. As if their love had reached through time and twined your family together all on its own. “Any time you would like to come over and look through the book and tell stories. Please…we are family.”

“I was curious and happy when I leaned a Tovar had purchased the property.” Alana admits with a smile. “We had wished we had been able to afford it, but this better.”

“We were meant to be brought together; I think.” She truly looks so much like Arwena that you just want to reach out and hug her, but that intimacy must be built first. Something tells you it will not take long, but it is still best to give it time. “I will make another coffee and we can sit together? Share stories? The grimoire has many of them. And perhaps if we sit long enough our cat will come out of hiding to say hello.”

“Cat?” Alana perks up and smiles. “Have you found another one? There are so many running around the properties.”

“We found a few living in the old farmhouse.” It had not thrilled Pero at the time, but a stray black cat is a thing close to your heart so he had just huffed and shooed them out - only to put water and food out for them by your back door later on. “We also brought our cat from the US. Bowie is around here somewhere.” Probably mousing, as he has already discovered plenty of prey to chase. Or else exploring his new home.

“We have always found black cats around the property. My abuela said that the familiar of your namesake became her daughter’s and they are all descendant from her. Binx.” Alana chuckles. “My own cat is named Binx.”

“They’re all from Binx?” The few seconds you take to steady yourself while reaching for a new cup and saucer from the cupboard isn’t nearly enough, but it allows you to share a loaded glance with Pero. “The original soulmates…” you ask when you turn back around. “Do the stories say what powers they had?”

“She had the power of fire, healing.” Alana smiles dreamily. “She saved Pero’s life. He was a warrior and fiercely protective over his bruja when he learned who she was to him.” It’s a story that is often told at family gatherings like weddings, so she is very familiar with her favorite love story. “He was different. He had no magic before her, but he learned. He could move things through the air. And—” She gives a small laugh. “You will say it is crazy, but the legend says they could travel through time.”

“Oh my god…” This time it’s you who drops the dainty cup from your hand, but it clatters onto the counter with no harm done as you reach for Pero beside you.

“Did you— have you heard a version of this?” She asks excitedly, leaning forward with hope shining in her eyes. “Isn’t it romantic? The story my abuela told me was that Pero learned magic so he could follow her. She was sick – unable to be healed and went to a time where she could be saved and he followed when he learned how.” She sighs softly and reaches for Jorge’s hand. “The story is told every time someone gets married in our family.”

“Every time?” You look up at Pero in wonder, wrapping your arms around him before looking back at Alana. “Do the stories say what time she traveled to? By any chance?”

Pero crushes you to him, overwhelmed by the realization that the two of you have been immortalized into this family’s legends. Stories are told to little ones, much like he had been told as a child. His breath catches and he blinks several times, his eyes wet. The two of you may have never had children together, but you are the matriarch of generations.

“That part gets complex.” Alana huffs. “No one can decide. Some say they lived in the 20’s but I believe they must have still be yet to come. How else would she be able to be saved if not for modern or future medicine?”

“I suppose it depends on what she was sick with.” The way you and Pero are holding on to each other is like you’re clinging to a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. “But that is…it’s not so unbelievable, is it? If magic is real, then surely anything is possible?”

Alana contemplates that and nods. “You are right. I wish I could know what it was like, what they were like. It must have been amazing.”

“I think it must have been very scary.” Terrifying, in fact, but you don’t know how these two sweet young people would react to knowing that it’s you they have been hearing about for so long. “Imagine being stuck out of your own time like that.”

“So you think that it is true? That she was a time traveler?” Alana smiles happily, having been met with disbelief if she talked about it with people outside the family. “Then if he followed her, he would be outside of his own time.”

“Yes…he would.” You look up at Pero again and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “And think how happy he would be to come home again.”

It takes her a moment. A long pause as Alana thinks about your words before there is a small, but poignant inhale from the younger woman. Her eyes are bright and shiny, and she nods knowingly. “Yes, I think that it is beautiful.”

“It would be nice if it could happen.” Jorge concedes, shifting in his seat beside his soulmate. He sees the happiness in her eyes but knows how attached to the love story of her ancestors she is. “But I would be overwhelmed, I think, if I were him. A whole modern world? Qué terrible.” How terrible.

“It is not that bad.” Pero huffs under his breath. “This time has indoor plumbing and ice cream.”

It takes a second, but Jorge’s eyes slowly move up to Pero’s in shock. “You mean…?” He croaks, fingers digging into Alana’s shoulders. “Dios mio, it’s true?”

The cat seems to be out of the bag, so Pero sees no harm in admitting it. He turns towards you, his frown would seem harsh if it weren’t for the softness in his eyes. “I would have torn time apart to be with my bruja again.”

“Te amo.” The words are soft in spite of your fierce pride in him, and you angle your chin up to kiss him before turning back to Alana and Jorge. “If you require proof, I understand.” Honestly, it would be insane for them not to. “The box on the end of the counter? That is my handwriting on the outside. Compare it to the first dozen-ish pages of the grimoire.”

“It is—” Alana nearly leaps off her seat at the counter to compare the writing. Not because she doesn’t believe you, but because she wants to.

Jorge is half a breath behind her, dragging over the box bearing your list of items inside written neatly on one of the flaps. It was how you kept organized during packing. “It is identical…”

Pero hums, knowing that they will want to see proof that he is who he says he is, so he turns and walks out of the kitchen, making his way to the safe that contains the clothes that you and he arrived in this time in.

“It’s true that he saved my life.” You tell the younger couple as Pero makes his way to the basement to retrieve his proof. “When I arrived at the hospital in this time, the doctors said another day or two might have been too long.”

“Is it true that he could not come with you? That he had to learn magic to follow you here?” Completely enthralled, Alana has a million questions for you. “I— this is rude, no? Asking you this? You do not have to answer if you wish.”

"It's okay." It's actually a relief, in some odd way. To meet family that you can share this part of your life with. To be connected to Arwena and Briac again, even a thousand years apart. "You can ask. If I'm able to answer, I will." The slices of cake and cups of coffee sitting on the counter have been neglected but you pick up your fork, deciding that food and drink makes everything a little more palatable. Socially, at least. "Yes, it's true that he had to learn magic to follow me. He spent a year learning before he traveled back to the Stones to follow me through history."

“Oh my god, it’s true.” Alana squeals, clearly overjoyed to learn that the stories that she had heard growing up were true. “I— how long has he been here? How long were you there?”

"I was there for eight years." Your first bite of Alana's torta is shatteringly good, and you muffle a groan while you chew. If this is a family recipe, you want to go back to whoever made it first and thank them personally. "He's been here for...almost a year now. Alana, this torta is amazing."

She beams, smiling happily under your praise and picking up the newly made coffee to take the first sip. “I will have to give you the recipe, unless you created it too?”

"No, your baking is far better than mine." Although you will definitely do your best to replicate this one. It's sensational. "Sugar still hadn't come to Europe then. Pero's discovery of sugar and chocolate has been a lot of fun for him."

“It is the best.” He groans as he comes into the kitchen again, the clothes and armor on his body rather than just showing them. “But I am getting fat.” There had been a snugness to his armor that wasn’t there before.

"I have a feeling that fixing up the old farmhouse will be plenty of exercise." Still, you can't help but smile at the sight of him in his armour. The lopsided expression on your face is both fond and soft. "There's my mercenary."

Pero turns towards the couple and sees their eyes widen. “This is what I am used to wearing. Spending my days on a horse and fighting for coins.”

"Increíble..." Jorge stands from his seat, jaw nearly on the ground as he gravitates closer to Pero with an eye toward inspecting his armor. "Like you just stepped out of a movie..."

“Movie. Yes, I know what that is.” Pero nods, nodding towards the man to let him touch the armor. “This is real, that – the strategy is shit in those movies. No one risks their ass like they show in them.”

"That's how he looked when he dropped off his horse onto my doorstep, near dead with tuberculosis." You tell Alana, shaking your head with the kind of fondness that only time and distance can give a memory. "We saved each other. First him, and then me."

“How did he save you?” Jorge questions, looking up from the armor before he rolls his eyes at himself. “Of course. He sent you back. How did he do that without magic? How did you travel through time?” That has been his burning question whenever Alana would talk about it.

"This is going to sound ludicrous." Telling the story from the outside really does feel a bit crazy, but you shrug slightly when Alana and Jorge both look at you expectantly. "But have you ever seen the show Outlander? Or read the books?"

“Don’t—” Alana gasps, covering her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief. “Do not tell me that is real!” She all but squeaks out her comment and Jorge laughs.

“She loves Outlander.” He confides. “Thinks the Jamey guy is…hot.”

"Last October I went to Inverness with my best friend to see the Stones at Craigh na Dun." You can't help but laugh, realizing in retrospect how silly the whole thing sounds. "I was gone for eight years, but to my friend it was only a few minutes."

“A few minutes…” Jorge shakes his head. Alana looks just as dumbfounded. “This is amazing.”

"And I will never regret it, because it led me to Pero." His hand reaches for yours at the same time you put your hand out to him and you link your fingers together tightly. "But I cannot safely say that anyone should ever try to travel through the Stones. You have no idea when you will arrive in time and when you get to wherever it is you are sent, you could be in immediate and very grave danger. It is...more than I bargained for. I'm just lucky that it turned out well for me."

“If it is not too rude…” Alana twists her hands together. “Is that why— your scar. Did you have it before you went back?” She asks, wondering if it’s a sensitive topic for you. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

"I got it while I was there." You nod slightly, fingers tangled in Pero's tightening slightly. "Before I met Pero. There was...a man that thought he could take advantage of me. He was very wrong."

“Bastard.” One thousand years dead and it still would not be enough for Pero. If he could be certain where the man’s grave was, he would piss on it. “My bruja managed to defend herself, and give me a scar that made me even more fearsome on the battlefield.” He sounds proud because he is proud of you.

"An example of why I would never recommend that anyone travel through the Stones." Beyond the scar and the loss of sight aside, the assault that you had endured was reason enough to caution anyone and everyone against putting themselves in that position. "Best to stay safe, well-fed, and cared for on this side of the timeline."

“I am so sorry.” Alana murmurs, looking horrified by the idea that someone would hurt you. “Hopefully he got his just rewards.”

“He got what he deserved.” You nod solemnly, looking back to Pero. “My husband made sure of that.”

There is a moment where Alana and Jorge just stare at Pero, in awe of what he must have done to put the terrifying look of grim satisfaction on his face. Alana ducks her head. “I am sorry for bringing up painful memories. My – curiosidad – it gets the best of me.”

“Things are better now.” You put one hand softly on Alana’s shoulder and offer her a smile. “To be able to return here, and to see what our family has become? That is worth everything.”

Jorge frowns. “Wait…if you were only there for eight years…did you leave your children behind?” He asks, confused about how they can be Tovars and still have created this legacy in such a short time.

“Your ancestors are a young couple named Arwena and Briac.” If Alana knows so much family history, she may already know this, but you tell her anyway. “They were soulmates, and Wena’s father forbade them from being together. But…we helped them. Briac learned to wield a sword and farm the land from Pero, and I taught Wena to read and write and wield magic. They…became our children, without ever any intention of the thing. When the night came that they needed to run away together, we packed up and left the village with them. From then on, we were a family.” Talking about them brings a wave of nostalgia you hadn’t been expecting and you wipe a tear from your eye. “You look exactly like her,” you tell Alana. “I knew you had to be family the second I saw you.”

“I do?” Alana very nearly tears up at the idea and reaches up to touch her own face. “Is that why you looked shocked when you opened the door? I look like the original Arwena Tovar?”

“You’re taller, but that’s the only real difference.” It’s sweet, how dearly Alana seems to take that fact to heart, and you nod. “It’s probably why I felt we could tell you all of this so easily. You just…you look so much like her I couldn’t imagine that that could have happened by accident.”

“I promise this will not be a tale that I spread.” Alana assures you, not wanting you to be wary of her spreading your story and perhaps having people look at you as if you are crazy.

“Thank you.” You didn’t think that she would, but it’s nice to hear the confirmation aloud. “I am, actually, your distant cousin,” you explain. “I’m also descended from Arwena and Briac. Just…a different branch of the family.”

“The side that apparently went to America.” Alana shakes her head, amazed at how the family has branched. “It’s amazing. A paradox. You are the matriarch and yet you are the descendant.”

“I don’t quite understand it myself.” It’s all too grand and smacks of too much consequence, and every time you think about it too much you reach a point where you start to get wrapped up in it like it’s the plot of a fantasy novel instead of your actual life. “But…all of it led me to Pero. And that’s more than I ever could have asked for.”

“I cannot believe that your soulmate is from a different time than you.” Jorge exclaims, unable to deny that is what you are because of the matching scars over your eyes.

“We usually say that we met while I was on that vacation in Scotland.” Pero chuckles into his sip of espresso when you say it and you shrug slightly. “It’s not like we can tell most people what really happened.”

“She tells people I am…” Pero looks to you when he cannot remember the word. “Antisocial.” He huffs, smug that he remembered it.

Alana and Jorge choke on this revelation for a minute before busting out in a fit of smothered laughter that makes even you giggle. “It’s true, amor. You are most of the time. But you love your family.”

“I do not trust anyone but family.” He corrects, frowning at your judgement of his character.

“Social expectations have changed in a thousand years, that’s all.” Alana points out. “And being able to trust your family is not always automatic. We are lucky to be able to trust each other so quickly.”

“I do not understand why.” Pero shakes his head. “Family should be the ones that you trust most. They are…family.”

You know he’s right, in many ways, but explaining to him that your mother would never accept the truth about who he is and when he is from – that she would probably try to have both of you committed if you told her the truth – had been a very long conversation. Of course he trusted you to know best, but he didn’t like the idea that you could not fully trust your parents to support you.

Pero moves over towards you and his hands slip around your waist, his lips kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder softly. “I will change back.”

“Be comfortable, amor.” You nod slightly, knowing he will feel the movement next to his head. “I know that tunic cannot be more comfortable than your t-shirts. My sewing was never that good.”

He chuckles quietly and can’t deny that modern clothes are more comfortable. Less itchy than the ones from his time. “I will be back.”

“So what about you two?” Turning back to Alana and Jorge, you feel the slight loss of no longer having Pero at your side, knowing he will be back quickly. Taking off armor never takes as long as putting it on. “What do you do? How did you meet?”

Jorge smirks, his own pride for his soulmate evident on his face. “University.” He explains. “We were taking a class together.”

“I still do not know how we managed to pass,” Alana laughs, sending him a gentle, fond smile. “We did not exactly study.”

“It is not an exciting story, but it was almost as if we knew right away.” Jorge boasts. “The connection, I mean. It – it is beautiful.”

“Every love story is exciting in its own way.” And really, yours is not for everyone. “It is a new beginning. The start of a life together. That is its own kind of adventure.”

“How is he handling it?” Jorge asks, imagining that despite the advantages of this time, the other man must be having moments where he struggles to understand the world he lives in now.

“There are always new challenges,” you admit, wishing as always that you could simply smooth the path that Pero walks in this time. But you know you cannot do everything for him, and he doesn’t want you to. That doesn’t stop you from wishing you could take away the things that make him unhappy. “It will do him good to have friends here. Family. People he can be his true self with. And…more than anything, I think coming home again will be good for him. The barn out there? Or, what is now a barn? That is the house he was born in.”

"That was the house?" Alana's eyes go comically wide, and she whips her head to the side to look out the window that overlooks the stone structure. "That is – it is a thousand years old and is the house that your soulmate was born in? The one where Arwena and Briac lived and raised their children in?"

“Yes.” You can’t help but chuckle a little at how excited all of this makes her, and you’ll admit that a good portion of it is some kind of relief. It had been a worry of yours that making friends here might be difficult – but clearly the opposite was destined to be true.

"That is – wow – amazing." She lets out a chirp of happiness and looks back out the window again. "He has been working out there. Is he – will he turn it back into what he knew it as?"

“He even applied for the permits we need to restore the thatched roof and stone floor.” It is a particular point of pride for you, that Pero is working so hard to restore his childhood home. He’s working so hard and you could not be happier for him.

"Wow." Now it is Jorge's turn to be impressed and he nods. "I will ask if he needs help." He decides, looking eager at the prospect of learning techniques from a thousand years ago. "It would be beautiful to see a perfect example of how a home from that time would be set up."

“Jorge studied architecture.” Alana tells you, her own pride evident in her voice. “You should see the castles he designs and builds for Binx. They are spectacular.”

“You build castles?” Pero steps back into the kitchen, his brow arched high, and he is very interested in the other man’s skills. The fireplace in the old home has been removed and he wants to rebuild it. “They are still being used in this time?”

“For our cat.” Jorge laughs, slightly embarrassed at the mix-up. “Towers for her to climb and scratch shaped like castles. But I build other things. And design them.”

“Alana was saying that Jorge studied architecture,” you explain.

“And I am a builder.” The younger man nods. “Whatever help you need in restoring your home, it would be an honor to help you.”

Pero rubs his jaw, nodding to himself slightly. “I need to rebuild the hearth.” He tells the younger man. “Some bastard ripped it out and boarded over it. Do you want to look?” He offers, knowing that someone who builds for a living might be a good thing since the bastards to tell you what you can and cannot do with your own property have pissed him off several times.

“Absolutely.” Jorge nods and drops a kiss on the top of Alana’s head before hopping off of his stool at the kitchen counter.

“I’m going to show Alana the grimoire,” you tell them, glad to see Pero making a friend so easily. You’re certainly not going to get in the way of it, especially not when Jorge is practically family. “Come in when you get hungry and maybe we can share supper together tonight?”

Pero nods and moves over to kiss you again. “Do you wish for me to start the fire outside?” He asks, knowing that he had planned on roasting some meat you had bought from the grocery store. While it was not the same as wild game, it was still delicious. “Or do you wish to do something else?”

“No, we can cook outside.” One kiss is never enough, and you steal another easily. “We have plenty enough for four, and we can show Alana and Jorge how we used to do things. It will be perfect.” To not have to hide, or to lie, or to pretend at all is a great gift that you did not think you would ever be given in this part of your life. But as always, as if some wonderful force of the universe is looking out for you – you have gotten the blessing that you needed in spite of undertaking something scary. Whatever else comes during your life in Spain, you have Pero at your side and family to spend time with. There is nothing more you could want.

______

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[raccoonspooky]

Looking back, I should've been on my knees

RATED E! 6k Words. Father Paul x Fem Reader sort of? Or hallucination of "God?" Umm Father Paul x Faceless third person entity he's fantasizing about. Solo masturbation.

TW for mental instability, delusional behavior and blood drinking. Dude's jerking off with a corpse in the room. Full list of tags on ao3 Y/N device is not used in this fic.

Tags of note under the cut

Tags of note: Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Sacrilege, Guilt, Horny Delirium, Masturbation as a form of worship/prayer.

Salt dry, ocean wind glides through the empty church with a prayer on its breath. The litany is hollow, the words are rehearsed. Maybe the sentiment is echoed from this morning as if the word of god traveled out to sea but the wind pushed it back to the church… or maybe it’s something the ocean came up with all on its own.

Besides such empty delivery, the air is alive with the wind’s echoed praise.

The Monsignor knows the words, they've become a part of him over the years; and after a handful of new developments, he’s begun to associate taste with memory and comprehension. The world is bright and it flares brighter as the wind settles against worn pews to flutter ragged hymnals barely holding onto their cracked spines. With the wind’s closing Amen, it parts way for an older presence that begins to make its way through the church.

It ambles along slowly, taking its time to spread throughout every board and nail. Its sense of divinity turns chipped paint into a hallowed thing. Father Pruitt can feel His proximity before his attention directs toward himself.

In his office, oxygen seems to pull into itself until it cuts out entirely. His nearness is welcomed but the old building seems unable to compensate for the reverence it wants to give. Father Pruitt respectfully drops to his knees and angles toward the emanating warmth. He tilts his head up and his hands come together, tied together by hopeful adoration. Each inhale burns from the lack of oxygen in the room but faith comes with ache. Pain is an essential component of life, a blessing disguised as penance. Iron coats his tongue, it’s long since become paste at the corners of his lips. Somewhere beyond himself, he’s aware that someone lays still behind him, it’s only been a few moments since they took their last breath. They still linger, waiting and Father Pruitt is honored to be here for their transition. God wouldn't leave the faithful cold. He arrived with something incomprehensible, something winged and beautiful.

The Monsignor’s vestments are heavy at the edges, weighed down by bloodied sacrament. The Lord himself told Father Pruitt that he was ready to greet one of his chosen and thus he enacted His will. Their atonement was burdened thick with tar but he freed them of such weight. He consumed their guilt, drank their regret… and now, one of his flock walks without sin alongside God and his son. There’s salt rimming his eyes and his lashes soak up unfallen tears. A rod of iron expands in his throat and like in revelation, he will wield the scepter to show the world the power of an almighty god.

Some of his strength lingers here, it curls around his collar, reminding him of his place. The touch isn’t ungentle but it further steals his breath. He’s done well. The Lord rewards him with sparks of twinkling gold that erupts behind his eyes. The blood he swallowed meets his own and he’s made stronger for it, God’s light reaches inside of him and his body is made clean in his shadow. As a servant of God, he fights the pleasure that comes with subservience. The only pleasure he should want should come from devotion alone. This closeness, this sense of love, this is his reward. The Lord assigned him an angel to rescue him from the stray path he previously wandered and since then he’s been blessed with clarity.

Reborn and given purpose, Father Pruitt has never felt so alive. He has never felt so close. A lifetime of prayers left unanswered and now his God shares this very room. Spidery doubt and hidden cowardice were burned out of him when the Angel showed him His glory. He remembers laying on the ground, feeling dirt in his lungs. God was far from him then. Sure that he was to die, the Monsignor came close to renouncing all that he knew… and then the Angel cauterized his wound before it could fester.

With his head full of twisted, rambling thoughts and an old man’s regret, Father Pruitt wasn’t aware of how much of his light was lost to blind faith until the Angel taught him how to see. He stood on two legs out of reflex and memory. Much of this form of faith is cemented in ritual and Father Pruitt had long since forgotten who the ritual was for. He’d forgotten whose halls he was sheltered by. God was an abstract thing to the old man. God was made real by hope alone.

He was wrong of course. God is as real as he is. He’s here in this room and his presence expands into the Monsignor. It’s… exhausting, but too holy, too pure to look away from. His love is vast and unending and the Father will take the pain that comes with it because God has faith in him to endure.

“Feed.” The presence insists, looking down at him with grace.

In half a breath, Father Pruitt becomes a flurry of movement. Robes flutter heavily and his fingernails scrape against the wooden floor as he frantically scoops darkened blood into his hands. He licks his palms and messily sucks his fingers into his mouth but it’s not enough. His nose crushes against the ground and behind the taste of iron and God's watchful gaze is the bitter taste of dirt and earth.

On his knees, he drags himself through the rust and clumsily reaches for the lamb’s cold wrist. They’re not yet stiff, and he punctures their flesh with a garbled thanks. He didn’t dare to further mutilate one of God’s children without His approval. The flesh is satisfyingly weighty between his teeth, it promises nourishment but the Lord has not yet instructed him to bite and swallow. The lamb’s blood is too bitter, too coagulated in their veins. It’s gummy in his mouth and his throat protests swallowing. He nearly gags in discomfort and his tongue trembles as it drags over one of the lamb’s wounds, a weak hint of fresh blood keeps him from disobeying God’s insistence. Father Pruitt groans against their flesh, unsatisfied but aware. He is to taste his sin. He is to give his thanks and understand that sacrifice is necessary and never asked for lightly.

Shame is held at an arm’s distance only because of the presence in the room. He’s alive with purpose, able-bodied, and here to enact greatness. He’s sound of mind and his thoughts no longer weave around and through each other until he’s unsure of where he started. The Lord’s angel faithfully tells him God’s will, and he’s never felt so loved. It took a lifetime, but his prayers were heard. God showed himself and recalling the memory is too much to comprehend.

With his pupils blown wide and his mind buried in thanks, his body distances itself from his waking thoughts. His flesh awakes under the watchful eye of God, reminding him that despite his sensitivity toward the divine, he is still only a man. Blessedly mortal as any other. Time is an unforgiving concept. He’s spent so long unaware of how far he’d fallen. He’s a shepherd once more and his little church is attuned to so much beyond its old walls. His blood thrums with promise, the true word of god was made clear to him and he smears his index finger through the blood beneath him, smiling in awe to the above as he makes a cross over his heart. Pledging himself again and again.

Father Pruitt’s head bows and he recites the lord's prayer as a reflex. The shape of the words is branded into his very being, they slot into worn groves beneath his skin. He uses them to center himself toward a place of rest and the word Amen lingers in the air, made alive by the promise in his prayer. His hands separate from each other and he reaches to squeeze his throat. He swallows dryly, shaken by everything he just felt. He uses his wrist to wipe his mouth but all he does is smear blood across his cheek.

Coherence is blessedly kept out of reach as if the Lord wants him to take a moment just to feel. With a slow exhale, he listens to his alarmingly rapid heartbeat. His back hurts but only because he woke in a wound up ball of contorted limbs. Old ache ghosts over his limbs but it's phantom pain. For years, he became so used to suffering that now he finds it difficult to focus on anything besides the pain he once used to keep his head on straight.

Something itchy and raw wakes in his chest. Without the presence of divinity and the lead weight it blankets him with, he’s left to venerate the hunger that’s newly lodged within him. Without God’s presence, he is left wanting, left waiting for His next command. It’s not a burden, if anything it’s a reminder of his second chance with this all. Still, idle hands are twitchy and his emotions slip and slide all over the place while he’s too nervous to shelve them back to where they belong. He’s kept on edge, eager to serve but frustrated that sometimes it takes time for His will to flourish.

It’s difficult to keep everything contained. He feels so much bigger than his body. He wants to show everyone the same light he saw. If everyone could just open their eyes, they’d find salvation and love unending. He’s made progress with some of the wary, he’s welcomed new members to the church… but he could do this all so much faster. Now that he knows God's love directly, he’ll do anything for more. He doubts nothing, questions nothing. Today, the Lord sensed his dry throat, and then a new face knocked on his office door. He freed them of their burden as the Lord instructed and Father Pruitt was nourished by their sacrifice. He felt their soul as it loosened from their flesh… and he was too weak to find no pleasure in it. To consume someone’s faith and take it into your own is indescribable. Its sanctity is meant for God alone, but as his servant, he’s allowed just a taste… just a tiny mouthful of something honest.

To the Monsignor, it proves that he’s doing something right. Honesty is the first virtue that has any meaning to it. Without honesty, there’s no goodness, no belief, or love. The lamb was startled at first, they struggled as he held them down. The taste of fear and pain burst across his tongue with his first bite but it was cleansed immediately with the incoming rush of delirium and then the closing sermon of bright, biting joy. Release. Weightlessness. After a lifetime of blind devotion, being able to taste the concept has Father Pruitt near feral for another hit. The mouth is a sacred part of one’s self, we use it to take communion and to speak with god. We consume his son’s blood and flesh. We are made sentimental creatures for the inherent desire to consume something beloved. Love twists into a set of teeth just as we shape words into worship with our tongues.

Regarding faith, Father Pruitt has never aligned with the idea that we as people are put onto this earth to suffer. He thinks perhaps that the pleasure he finds in servitude to God is something for him alone. It’s a sign that he’s using His gift for good. The body in the room isn’t pretty but God still came for them. His tongue still salivates, he wishes that he took things slower but he didn’t want the sacrifice to suffer. Their blood was complex, when he swallowed it trailed down his throat with legs like fine wine. He could’ve fed on them for hours, taking the time to pick apart the individual components of personality that flavored them in such a way… but he was a man of god. A man of faith. He wouldn’t take what wasn’t offered. The lamb deserved something quick in exchange for their sacrifice that God so wanted.

God asks us to listen. God asks us to obey and follow in his footsteps. He gave the world his son so the faithful could understand we can only do so much in our earthly vessels. We can love one another, and do good as we are able to— God only asks for what we are able to give. We aren't given bodies to be ashamed of them and push them past their mortal capabilities. God made man in his image, he did not give us the ability to think and feel as a punishment. What we do with our bodies is another thing entirely.

As to answer his thoughts, one of the Monsignor’s twitching hands finds his belt after awkwardly runching up his robes. This isn’t sin. This is worship. God gave him this body with all of its functions and he was awarded a glimpse of all that is good for a reason. His mind translates enlightenment in the only way he can understand. It turns something holy, something sacred into sensation rather than comprehension. Sin is not one thing or the other. It’s a fluid concept. The church is old and lost in its ways just like he was not so long ago.

Perhaps he’s a heretic, and such thoughts might've once sequestered him into a panicked, praying stupor… but he’s promised his very soul in exchange for the truth. No such heresy comes from worship. No such shame should come from pleasure found in servitude. Uneasy but determined, Father Pruitt decides that his faith has yet to wrong him. Wouldn’t he be distrusting God by questioning the morality of the way his body reacts to His word?

The noise of his belt buckle clinking against itself cuts through the heavy silence in the room. Some spell laid over him lifts with a promise to return and Father Pruitt thanks it for its mercy. He’s airy now, eager to offer himself in this way. This may as well be liturgical practice, this is… right. This is physical devotion and the same as self-appointed lashing or any other physical offering. Father Pruitt’s breaths are slow but heavy, he swallows dryly, and as soon as he’s fumbled his zipper somewhat undone, he shoves a blood-sticky, prayer-warmed hand into his waistband with a haggard breath of thanks. His cock is half hard, twitching to life and he can feel its pulse more than he’s attuned to his heartbeat. The first graze of touch has him gnashing his teeth.

At the edge of coherence, he’s aware that the blood is staining not just his soul. His vestment robes are soaked through, he’s yet to perfect the ritual but he’s sure that he’ll eventually get the hang of it. Blood has since streaked across the floor. Some drips steadily from the pool atop his desk and Father Pruitt resists cleaning the mess with his tongue. Kneeling in the worst of it, he’s sure that soaked denim is soon to cut into his skin. His hand was far from clean but he didn’t think twice about wrapping it around his cock. It swells as if to meet the blood on his hand and it only takes a few shy strokes until he’s fully hard, each awkward pump of his fist has his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. He’s unpracticed, unsure of what he likes, and in a lifetime before, he was beleaguered with too much shame to ever think of doing something like this.

A chuckle leaves him while he ponders whether or not someone a few hundred years ago assumed people would spend all day touching themselves if such pleasure wasn’t branded as a sin. Something so effortlessly taken, so effortlessly given could easily become wrong if one was to lose themself in unearned pleasure. But his body is a vessel of the Lord’s, he is nothing but a servant. He acts only by his Lord’s will. Even now, he mumbles thanks and prayer while his hand rapidly follows his words. Although they are patched together gracelessly, the sentiment is there. Father Pruitt hunches over, gulping down a breath as he works his cock with frantic, overeager strokes.

He thanks God for his grace, thanks God for his mercy. He asks that God may bring peace to those in need. He asks God for his congregation’s health and happiness.

So much of what he once knew as truth is now muddled with new realities. Stubbornly, he wonders if this is wrong. His hand slows and he forces himself to a stop even as his needy prick throbs with angry discomfort. He shouldn’t want anything besides what’s best for his flock, he shouldn’t feel so high-strung and on edge. Shouldn't this feel like worship? He wonders if he should feel calm, he wonders if he should slow down and perhaps acclimate to the sensation so he’s not panting like a dog… but all he can do is think of the first gush of wet blood that spilled into his mouth. Recalling the first swallow and the way the blood immediately awoke all of his senses to new heights forces a whimper from his throat and it clings to his bottom lip, making it tremble.

He decides that the same pleasure found in servitude to God is no different from the consuming want that emanates through him now. Father Pruitt sucks in a wet sounding breath and he shifts on his knees so he can better angle his hips. He fucks into his fist and the room balances on the closing note of a song. It hums with the same low note that lingers in the aftermath of an Amen. This is not selfish. This is not wrong. This is for Him. The Lord wants him to understand his miracle, this body is a gift… it is meant to be cherished.

The original sin was a gift. God allowed his first creations to ask questions, he made Eve a curious soul because she was a needed balance to Adam’s instinct to listen and obey.

Men were created to listen. Men were created to serve. Even with free will, Adam still chose to submit.

Everything is new and wonderful. Behind closed eyes, Father Pruitt sees only stars. An involuntary shudder builds in his ribcage and it escapes down his spine to find uneasy purchase atop his nerves. His hips cant upward, chasing his retreating fist and by now his breath has turned ragged, and his limbs feel loosely tacked on.

Buried memories awaken amongst the rapture and the crumbling relics speak long lost invocations in the language of heaven. He can’t understand them, but to hear something so ancient and otherworldly brings new wetness to his eyes. Like this he’s only a vessel of worship, he cannot speak or think clearly, he’s mindless and obedient to pleasure, seeking more to honor his Almighty. Mindlessly pumping his fist, Father Pruitt looks up and groans a pitched whimper.

“Yes, God.” He thinks. “I am yours, I am yours.”

His tongue feels oily, it can’t find its place in his mouth. He wants to give his thanks but the noise that pushes past his teeth is tangled up in its afterbirth and it struggles to make itself known. His soul swells with love, he’s made pure by this bloodied baptism. He understands it now. This hunger. He’s a newborn babe, brought screaming into the world. A lifetime of devotion made him pure once again. He’s without sin. He should be without guilt. Unashamed, Father Pruitt easily falls headfirst into a memory that he once kept secret from the lord. The memory is wet and tight, his breaths are shared with another’s and her lips feel so right against his.

Maybe this love wasn’t his to take, but he’s never regretted it. He’s never regretted her. Even now, the memory is only a wisp of what once was, but being able to recall anything of it is more than he could wish for. His knuckles scrape against denim and his movements pick up speed. Caught in a mess of prayer and thanks, the Monsignor hiccups while half swallowing a moan.

The presence inside of him blends the memory of her with the tinge of iron and fear. He remembers being so afraid of what he’d done, but not afraid enough to stop. She was everything in that instance of broken resolve. She was the universe itself. She was God and all things holy. She trembled around him, crying out to God and he selfishly commanded her to say his name instead. The command was strong only because it was backed by regret. He knew that this was unforgivable, he knew that no penance or no amount of hail Mary’s could amount to the weight of what he’d already done.

You cannot commit half a sin.

Close as they were, he wished to be closer. He wanted to shed her of her modesty and hide beneath her skin. He wanted to take her flesh for his own, anoint it in oils and make her holy so he had some excuse for the way he felt. He wanted to become some permanent piece of her because he was unable to rid himself of his devotion to God. She’d never push his faith, she would never have been able to claim him as he claimed her and the unfair trade burned him like a hot iron. Couldn’t he offer her just a piece of himself? After years of unshaken faith, couldn’t he give her something worth keeping? As the church is one with the body of Christ, partaking in his flesh and blood —couldn’t he offer her some minuscule, unimportant piece of himself?

From that first sin and all the subsequent moments of stolen love, John —Not the priest. Not Father Pruitt, Not God’s devoted parishioner—, wanted to see her soul. He wanted to see the thing he’d given everything for.

He found love in a sense of shame. He had no right to fuck his guilt into a woman chosen for him by God. He should’ve listened. His love was a desperate, aborted thing. Barely alive and stolen from his Lord, he gave handfuls of both to each party when neither wanted anything to do with his sickly worship.

You cannot worship out of fear. You cannot form shame into love.

Christened again, he understands with an old man’s regret that it’s natural to be afraid. He was blind to the gift he was given back then, he rejected a woman who loved him and rejected the God he so loved because of self-appointed shame. He lived the rest of his life a broken old fool, but he’s seen the light now. He can lead his congregation to salvation, just like the Angel who gave him a second chance at life. He’ll take their burden. He’ll take their guilt and their shame. He can handle it. Even now, there’s an ache inside of him that demands it. Even now, he’s hungry.

Rather than recoil, he chases the feeling. Acceptance is all it wants. It wants to be heard. It wants to be known.

This want, this hunger— It’s all part of His plan.

In shameful instances of the past, there were moments of resentment. God blessed him not only with forgiveness but also with the inability to harbor the concept of resentment any longer. He’s never known a love so unending. He’s never known something so bright, so vast. He feels it in his veins, the blood circulating through him is the same as liquid gold.

Faith tells him when to sleep and what to dream. It forces his lips as he speaks his sermons. Inside of him is something ancient and divine and he is so honored to hold such privilege. He doesn’t mind the ache of constant hunger. God tells him to consume mortal sin and feel it burn as it goes down his throat. It won’t corrupt him. His conviction is imbued into his bones, into his soul. When he is hungry, the Lord will provide. The sky is cracked open and he can see everything there ever was. It’s simple in its complexity. Everything is one centered breath, time itself exists in the span of a single heartbeat.

We exist out of love. God sees us wholly and without sin. He sees the perfect version of who we are meant to be because we came out of His imperfection. In the end, we are memory and devotion in its purest form. To love and be loved is our only purpose in life and Father Pruitt has been afraid for so long that he held a finite source. He held an unfair reserve over his heart, offering only part of himself to the woman he loved and the Lord who blessed him with such a feeling.

Containing multitudes, he understands that God wants him whole. He’s not a fractured mess of a man who once was. The air around him is perfectly, succinctly still. Each exhale feels almost rude. The room is severe, he looks up and waits for a sign. He wants to beg for direction.

“Please,” he begs the empty air and his voice weakens upon the crest of a gasp. He swallows and manages a firmer plea, but the air remains still. Looking up doesn’t seem to offer him anything, so Father Pruitt shuts his eyes. His hand acts on its own accord and his fist loosely settles around his stubbornly devoted cock. Blood lingers on his taste buds though he’s sure that the taste is long gone. He wonders if it’s a reminder or if it’s a promise of more.

In his mind, real as anything else— his hand slowly skims up someone’s bare calf. His touch is reverent, his head is bowed. He wants to look up at her, but he doesn’t need to look to know who she is. He hasn’t seen her face as it was in so long. His eyes are adjusted to the dark and looking up seems wrong, she didn’t ask him to look. He has a duty to perform, he can’t blind himself now. She’s naked in all of her glory and the universe narrows down until all he can see is her parting legs.

He waits for no direction, with her spread like an offering he understands his place. He is to bow before her holiness and he is to worship as God commands him to. This isn’t a test, this isn’t a cruel memory. He can smell her blood as it circulates beneath her skin. She’s real and she’s here. She reaches between her thighs to spread her lips— showing him everything he never deserved— and he stumbles forward to bury his tongue in her folds.

Unsure if she’s an embodiment of the Lord, one of his angels, or one of his memories given life once more… The Monsignor decides that they’re all the same. He decides he doesn’t care and he’ll take what he is given. His head is bowed as if in prayer, one hand holds her calf while the other words his cock. His tongue strokes through her folds and she’s decadent. She’s his as he is the Lord’s. Her skin is so soft in his hands, she’s otherworldly and the world itself. He has no purpose but to serve, to taste, and feed. God asks so little of his children. He gives and he gives and the Father is fed and loved for it. He could stay here forever, he could kneel and rot to nothing happily like this.

Was this… a reward? Was this God’s favor? He struggles for an answer but the closer he gets to the truth, the further he strays from the task at hand.

“Stay with me.” She commands, voice soft but words piercing. Fingers tighten in his hair and his previous curiosity mutates into his instinct to serve. She’s given him so much and the worship she asks for is so easy to give. So close to divinity, he’s barely able to breathe while refusing to part from her body. Devoted to his worship, his nose slots beside her clit as he curls his tongue between her lips. He’s so full of love but she urges him to take another mouthful.

Her pleasure drips wetly down his chin. Wet and warm like blood. Sweeter though. There’s no struggle, no initial fear. She tastes of heaven itself and Father Pruitt holds her hips still, tracing his thanks with his tongue as she writhes against his assault. She twists on her altar, back contorting as he sucks on her clit and Father Pruitt wonders if she’s to be prayed to or to be prayed for. She’s all movement, difficult to hold onto, and difficult to comprehend.

His cock leaks into his palm and each pump of his fist is slick. He is only a parishioner right now, his throat is bare, clerical collar forgotten somewhere beyond this place. The sin of his making whispers that he wants more. Behind the curtain of humility and faith… he wants to bury himself inside of her so deeply that her body will mold to his. He wants to lay her before God himself so as to show his Lord what devotion he’s willing to give. He wants no separation between their bodies, he wants no separation from his Lord. If God would give him this for just an instance, he would linger on this earth for the rest of eternity guiding all who wander toward the Almighty's light. He’d be kept alive only by the memory of something perfect.

The Angel who commands his heart promises that he is worthy of such love. He’s submitted, he’s given everything he is and more. He could take what he wants, nothing would punish him for it. Her pussy drips that much wetter, she grinds against his face, begging so sweetly. She only wants his worship, she already owns his soul…

Abruptly, she comes apart, unravels beneath his tongue and Father Pruitt groans along with her. He pulls away from her cunt only to look at what she’s become. This gift is his strength. This gift is his weapon. Take His body and drink His blood. This gift is the broken love he once gave to her and his Lord and it is returned to him in abundance, kept fat and happy by God who thrums with awareness beneath his skin. The ache of being begins to burn. Father Pruitt hisses behind his teeth as a ray of sunlight streaks across his back from a high window.

It ties him to his body and he’s thankful for the pain. He would’ve stayed wherever he was, licking her cunt for all of eternity if not for the earthly reminder of his flesh. Clarity pulls him from the depth of worship and he’s not allowed a moment to mourn the loss of his vision. She retreats with grace, her footsteps fade toward the sacred place she calls home inside of him. He’s taken his fill. He’s served righteously and he won’t ask for more. A younger version of him might’ve begged, but Father Pruitt knows better than to question God’s will. The Lord washed his palette clean.

The church’s next service will serve his blessed blood as communion and they will be made stronger because of his worship.

This is His will.

“You’ve done well, Father.” God’s voice is feminine and kept soft.

Father Pruitt takes her praise with all the grace he can summon. He wants to snatch it from the air and stuff it down his throat, he wants to bury his face in it and fuck it into a wet mess. All he’s ever wanted to be is worthy. All he’s ever wanted to be was seen.

An ethereal touch forces his eyes open. She crooks her finger beneath his chin as if to lift his gaze toward her unseen face and ghostly fingers settle on the side of his face. She’s so real. He can sense her somewhere. Whoever she is, a memory or some asset of God…he doesn’t care. Her touch is so soft, so divine, and otherworldly that it pulls an unbridled moan from his chest. Burdened by earthly gravity, it spills to the floor like incense smoke, curling at the edges and cleansing the curdled and blackened mess he kneels in.

His soul was never his to begin with. She doesn’t ask him for worship, nor does she ask him for bloody sacrifice. Her guidance is freely given, so gently laid that he feels as if he’s shrouded by sheer feathers. Her form isn’t here, not in this room in a physical sense, and yet somehow she is. She’s with him. Inside of him. A part of him. His belief has never been based on physical senses and he’s lived long enough to know that there is so much more beyond what he can see. He can almost hear the musical tone of her laughter, of her happiness found in his belief. Her wings constrict, holding him close and shielding him from the world. She asks him to let go. She asks him to breathe. Fingers tighten at his throat, and he’s reminded of who he breathes for.

He is owned as he is loved.

The sense of ownership builds until it finds the ends of his mortal body. It stretches thin after that, pulling beyond until it has nowhere else to go. The whisper comes again and she tells him to let go. He doesn’t need to hold on so tight. Wherever he begins and ends doesn’t matter to her. Father Pruitt inches toward embarrassment, feeling stupid for worrying over such a concept for so long and the presence only holds him closer in response.

There’s no slamming edge to his orgasm, the presence he feels it’s expansive and somewhere beyond himself. Torn from his body, he’s unaware of the pitched moans he whines into his empty office, he’s unaware of the way he bites the side of his thumb to keep quiet. His cock surges and holy light fills him up from the inside as thick white dribble arcs against the inside of his robes. He lurches forward and he’s forced to catch himself with his free hand. Startled, he yelps when his palm slaps against slimy wet sludge. The texture is so similar to his cum that he recoils, he’s pulled back into his body with an abrupt shove and Father Pruitt nearly falls face forward once again with the sudden shock of coherence.

With wild eyes, he whips his head around, looking for her even though he can feel the emptiness of her unsaid goodbye. The air in his lungs is too thin, his heart is too fast. His dick feels rubbed raw and he wipes his palms on his thighs, groaning with discomfort as he puts himself back together.

John can still feel her on his skin. He can taste her on his tongue. He knows exactly where her presence left and he accepts her loss just like any other day. She’s needed elsewhere and he knows to let her go. Others are in need, others love her just as he does.

His mind and body are that of his Lord’s and he has work to do. With an awkward stretch, Father Paul manages to force his legs into working order and he stands with pins and needles swarming his calves and feet. His back aches, and he leans backward in an attempt to pop a stiff joint. His eyes meet the still gaze of the vacant body pushed into a corner and he sees no recognition upon their face. They’re beyond him now. With her. With God and his angels. Safe in transport toward the kingdom of heaven. He wonders if they saw her too, he wonders if they felt just a smidgen of what he felt beneath her touch.

Did they see her face? Did she smile as she held them in her arms to absolve them of sin?

Gently, he removes his vestment robes, and as respectfully as possible, he covers the body as if swaddling an infant. He closes their eyes with an accompanying prayer. He tells them that they’re beautiful, he tells them that they’re loved. He prays for God to soon wash their soul clean so that they may leave this world holy and pure as Mary’s blessed son.

Father Paul doesn’t tell them that their blood was sweet with sin. He doesn’t tell them that he no longer can tell the difference between all that is Holy and that he’s beginning to rethink the reality of heaven.

Thanks for reading! Woof this dude is going through it.

I wanted to write something "Short" for my boo @ventiswampwater but idk how to write short i guess haha.

Let me know your thoughts!!

[hydropyro]

“Team Building Exercise”

Excerpt and sketch

Cw: Strangulation

(Trying to build out the parts of Webs of Fate that aren’t smut 🙈😬)

“What we need,” Gale suggested, “Is a team-building exercise.”

“The trials in this place are supposed to be completed alone,” Shadowheart interjected. As Alakvyr was not a ‘true’ cleric, and not well practiced, Abdirak knelt beside her and worked on mending the wounds she’d sustained during the ‘Soft Step Trial’ earlier.

No one responded immediately. Shadowheart was not capable of completing the trial on her own and had needed Astarion to sneak through it for her in the end. Of course, it had gravely wounded her pride — but Abdirak did not think her ready to become an elite soldier of any god just yet. He understood where her feelings were coming from, though. It was coincidence that they had come across the Sharran temple hidden beneath Reithwyn — the region decimated by Shar a century past — but she would see it as destiny.

He also — quietly — questioned her loyalty to her god. She did not seem to enjoy what Shar had done to the land and the creatures in it. Of course, a great deal of the destruction they had witnessed on their way to Moonrise Towers, posing as True Souls — and servants in his case, to his amusement — had been done during the battle that waged before the shadow fell.

As they explored the land, and fought the monsters born of it, she had asked him many questions in regard to his faith; how he knew it was his purpose, what he would do in all manner of situations, etcetera. He was happy to speak about it, but his loyalty — zealotry — came from decades of service that he recalled fondly.

“I don’t mean for the trials,” Gale assured her. “I just mean — in general. Once you’re a —”

“Dark Justicier,” Shadowheart said bitterly.

“Yes, that — it will be a real help in the coming battle against the immortal Thorm — but working as a team will help us even — as well.”

Abdirak smirked at the wizard and was given a helpless shrug in response.

“In my experience, team-building is often acquired through the communal offering of our pain by the the scourge at the hand of higher clergy,” Abdirak began.

He started to explain further when Wyll said, “We will not be doing that.”

The Pain only smiled at the warlock. He had not anticipated that anyone would be eager to join.

“When githyanki form partnerships they complete a ritual wherein they battle one another,” Lae’zel said.

“Battle how?” Alakvyr asked, seeming interested.

“How else does one battle?” Lae’zel scoffed. “You choose a weapon and you fight. It shows your partner’s strengths and weaknesses, and drawing blood from one another builds an unbreakable bond.”

Abdirak smiled. It could be a scourge, with the right person. He stood. “Are there rules? Do we wear armor?”

She frowned and shook her head. “The exercise is not one in cowardice. Choose your opponent, priest, and fight. It is not a difficult concept.”

Abdirak pointed to Alakvyr, who climbed eagerly to his feet. The Pain collected his scourge from the stone he had rested it on. In his sleep clothes he had no way to wear it. A feature that probably slipped the mind of the maker. He watched as Alakvyr took up two short swords. He used his bow more often in battle, but the goal was presumably not injury.

“Is magic — allowed?” Alakvyr asked when they moved a few strides away so their tussling would not fall atop the rest of the group. He gave Abdirak a slightly nervous glance — the Loviatan’s magic was much stronger than his.

“I would say no,” Lae’zel said, and Gale scoffed.

Before an argument could break out, Abdirak offered, “I am amenable to a melee-only skirmish, Dear One.” He smirked at the drow, who looked much more confident now. That would not last.

“Do we just start?” Alakvyr asked, his eyes trained on Abdirak, his feet planted, rocked up on his toes and ready to spring forward.

“You just fight, tas’ki!” The gith exclaimed. She had set her plate of food down violently, as if readying to stand and fight the men herself.

Alakvyr leapt forward. Abdirak knew he had been well-trained in Menzoberranzan and he had seen him fight. Alakvyr was particularly fond of feigned attacks, knocking his opponent off balance and opening their side to his strong hand.

“When — uh — do they stop?” Gale asked nervously.

He held his scourge over his shoulder, ready to strike, and shifted just a bit onto his left leg. Alakvyr feigned with his left arm, his red eyes focused intensely on the Loviatan’s scourge hand. Abdirak swung his right leg out of the way while shoving the featherlight drow to the side, onto the ground.

Alakvyr caught himself on his knees and raised a blade to guard his back, anticipating that the strike would come. Though the blade caught a couple of falls, the majority fell in a nice, wide pattern across his bare back.

“When one concedes or is incapacitated,” Lae’zel said, as if it were obvious.

The drow began to stand. He could handle a few lashings — Abdirak knew — and he likely intended on gritting his teeth through. So, the Loviatan did not strike him again.

Instead, Abdirak moved his scourge to the other hand as he stepped up behind the drow and caught his wrist, wrenching his sword to the side, and twisted it. Not hard enough to break or sprain — but to cause a shooting pain to run up the elf’s hand — and, as desired, Alakvyr dropped the blade with a cry.

Abdirak ran the scourge over the drow’s beautifully freckled shoulder and caught the falls in his main hand, pulling Alakvyr back against himself. Pale eyebrows furrowed up above sanguinous, baffled eyes.

The barbs along the scourge bit sweetly into the soft flesh of the younger man’s throat — not long enough to harm him, but enough to draw small beads of blood as Abdirak wrenched the falls tight.

Alakvyr tried to stand, but Abdirak just straighted with him, resting his head against the back of Alakvyr’s as he so gently strangled the man. That is not what a whip is for, he could imagine Alakvyr was thinking. He had been anticipating a flurry of blows, dodging the many, barbed flails with his quick footwork.

Alakvyr still held a blade, but did not use it. He struggled against the Loviatan bodily, his breaths becoming ragged and his grunts of effort suppressed by the leather squeezing his throat.

Abdirak was careful not to put pressure directly onto the trachea, instead focusing the knuckles of his hand and handle of the scourge, and the falls in the other hand onto pressing the carotid arteries on either side.

“Do not worry, Dear One,” he murmured in Alakvyr’s delightfully pointed ear, chuckling quietly to himself. “I will tuck you in once you are asleep.”

The flat side sword came up suddenly and caught the Loviatan on the side of his head. As it glanced off he felt it just cut, and as Alakvyr squirmed away the blade caught Abdirak’s ear, delivering a delicious sting. He laughed, pleased that Alakvyr was willing to strike at him.

The drow had a wicked smirk on his face — his escape had been successful.