#still need ideas for a tattoo that goes along my entire spine though

[faaun]

a triangle and other things id like on my body

[sciapod]

Angelic

Pairing: Jax Teller x Original female character Summary: Smutty musing Warnings: Smutty language. Kinda implied BD/SM. Dom/sub relationship Word count: 490 A/N: I needed a face for this fic and initially wanted to go for Tyler Rake [Hemsy <3] but then I remembered this other gem of a man, and felt that the tone just matched better with him. Hope y'all enjoy it! Please reblog if you do <3 A/N: I realize that I'm posting this mid- the 2021 tag-purge of Tumblr, so I have no idea if it makes sense to even use tags or if I'm just ruining banning it for myself. Here goes. I hope someone sees it anyway.

Masterlist

Tag list tagging in the reblog <3

–

Alright babe, so this is what you’re asking. You want me to dress you up in a cute, lacy brides’ dress, as in, the sexy little thing she’d wear on her wedding night? All sheer and delicate?

And you want me in leather, pinning you to the bed and taking you? You mentioned a whip too? We’ll have to see to that.

What about a gagball? I think that would look cute on you. I’d like to tie your hands together too, but we can start slow. You wanted eye contact, yes? That’s difficult to do if I take you from behind. Well, depending on how much you can twist and arch your back for me, which by the way is something I’d like to see. Anyway, I can take you missionary too, or have you ride me. Maybe I’ll let you choose.

I imagine my fingers running along your spine as you’re on full display for me, dressed in white lace lingerie and I imagine my nails caressing the hemline of your skimpy little outfit, your perky, fit ass right there for me, ready to be taken.

The view. The view of you alone would be enough to get me off, but I know that’s not enough for you. You want the whole experience, don’t you? You want me to slap that cute ass as well, isn’t that right?

Here’s what I’d like: I would, truly, like to see your big, muscular frame in a cute little dress. I’d like to put it on you as well. I’m not entirely sure how that would work, you being taller than me, generally larger than me, but we’ll make it work.

I’m sorry, I’m kinda obsessed with my own, shall we say, costume, for this event; I’m imagining my 4 inch heels with mesh fabric, long fiery hair and matching nails – or are they black? – ah. And the leather. I’m sure the full leather outfit will look amazing on me as well. Oh, and lest we not forget: The strap-on you begged me to wear as well. Mhm.

I don’t know which words to use, though; how to talk to you. Do you want to be my sissy girl? Do you want me to humiliate you? The striking contrast of your tattooed adonis body with the delicate, white lace… Or do you want me to praise you, tell you how striking you look? How good a boi you are for me?

“I will obey”, you tell me, after watching a porn I sent you; a suggestion as to how pegging you could go down. I’m glad we agree.

I still need to find a proper pet name for you. Maybe just… pet. Maybe I’ll have to make something up as we go along.

“I imagine you really know how to use a strap-on.” I appreciate your trust, dear. I imagine that too.

[scatter-the-stars]

Badboy

So this became more than I anticipated.

TW: abuse (not Blaine to Kurt)

"Where are we going?" Kurt questions after only just then realizing they're not headed towards Eric's house where the party is. "I thought you said we were going to a party?"

From the driver's seat his friend Jackie lets a sneaky smile spread across her face. "We are."

"Okay. Why are we driving in the opposite direction of Eric's place?"

"I never said we were going to Eric's party."

"Jackie!"

Jackie giggles. Her long auburn hair blowing around her face from the wind.

"Jackie, where the hell are we going?" Kurt takes a look around to see if he recognizes anything. But nothing rings a bell.

"I heard about a... party."

"Where?"

"The south side of town," she replies.

"Hell no, Jackie." It suddenly makes sense why he doesn't recognize anything around him. He's in a part of town he's never been in. A part of town he's been told to stay away from.

"What?"

"We can't be here. It's dangerous."

"Says who?"

"Um... Everyone. Let's just go to Eric's party."

"No." Jackie starts to drive faster. "We're going to this party."

Kurt glares at his friend. "Why?"

Jackie says nothing while she parks her Jeep close by to the party they can hear. She pulls the keys from the engine and faces Kurt. "Aren't you tired of doing the same thing? Going to the same boring parties?" She tucks a strand of her loose hair behind her ear. "I want excitement, Kurt."

"Then go skydiving or something. Don't go to the bad side of town. And don't drag me along." Kurt unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the Jeep. He starts to walk back the way they came. Pulls out his phone in hopes of finding a different friend who will be willing to come pick him up.

"Kurt! Wait!" Jackie runs to stand in front of him and stop him from leaving. "Please, don't go. I need you with me on this. I can't go in there alone."

"I don't care." He moves around her and continues walking. Is pissed his best friend would drag him into her crazy idea. Plus, if his stepdad finds out where he was he’ll be punished. "I'm going home."

Jackie grabs his wrist and stops him. "Please. Stay with me. Kurt."

Kurt takes a few deep breaths before turning to face his friend. "Jackie, this is a terrible idea. All those people are trouble."

"And Eric and his friends aren't?"

Kurt opens his mouth to say no but snaps it shut when he remembers just the week before Eric and his friends decided a car race on the highway at night would be fun. And that's only one of dozens of dangerous, crazy things they've done over the years.

"Please, Kurt," Jackie pleads. "We'll stay an hour and then go to Eric's boring party."

"His party wasn't boring a few weeks ago."

"Yes, it was." Jackie loops her arm through Kurt's. "Aren't you tired of the same boring shit we do?"

"I mean..." There is some part of him that is bored by everything like Jackie said. It's been the same thing with the same people his entire life. Maybe a step outside the norm could be a fun, exciting adventure.

"See. This will be fun."

"But you don't know those people?"

"I'm good at making new friends. This will be no different. So, will you come with me?"

Kurt thinks it over for a moment. Considers he can survive an hour crashing a party full of people he doesn't know.

"Fine." He blows out a breath. "You owe me big time, Jackie. I'm talking about Chanel or Prada big."

"Deal!" Jackie bounces up and down on her feet in excitement. "Thank you so much." She plants a kiss on his cheek.

"Let's get this over with."

Music blares from the two-story house that has seen better days. There's people standing out on the yard and porch. They go silent when they see them. There's whispers as they walk by. Every set of eyes in the house immediately go to them when they step inside. Kurt suddenly feels like he's under a bright spotlight he doesn’t want on him.

"Come on," Jackie grabs his hand, "let's get something to drink."

He follows her through the house to the kitchen. Everyone watches and scrutinizes them as they pass them by. Their judging eyes make him feel two feet tall. They make him feel like the odd one out, which he is. Because he shouldn't be here. This type of place, these kinds of people, are not his scene. And he’ll be in so much fucking trouble if Caleb finds out.

"People are looking at us."

"Ignore them," Jackie casually says, like it's no big deal that a house full of people are staring at her.

Kurt wants to do that. Even tries to. But it proves impossible when he's watched like a hawk. He clutches Jackie's hand tighter and keeps his eyes forward. Says nothing. Not even when someone purposely bumps into him and loudly says, "Watch where you're going you rich bitch."

A few snickers and laughs follow the insult. It doesn't affect him. After growing up and being teased and bullied for his sexuality, a little remark about his wealthy lifestyle won't hurt him. It’s water off his back.

In the kitchen, sticking close to Jackie as she fills two red SOLO cups with beer from the keg, Kurt prays that the next hour passes quickly.

"Drink." Jackie holds a cup out to him. "It'll loosen you up."

Kurt takes the full cup and drains nearly half of it. The alcohol slightly relaxes him in a way he needs.

That relaxing feeling, though, dissipates with Jackie's next words.

"I'll be back."

He grabs for her hand before she leaves. "What? No. Don't leave me alone here."

"I'll only be gone a few minutes. You'll be fine." Jackie flashes one of her mock innocent smiles she's perfected over the years before disappearing in the crowd of people.

Kurt's heart immediately starts to race and breathing grows heavy as he stands there alone being looked at by the people around him. No longer wanting to endure the stares, he turns around to face the cabinets. At least they won't stare at and judge him.

He brings his cup to his lips and drains the last of his beer. Mentally prays Jackie comes back soon.

It's still crazy to him that they're here. That Jackie actually convinced him to come to this party. All his life he's stayed on his side of town. Never strayed to the bad side of town as his mom would repeatedly call it. Can remember her telling him it was full of criminals and people not worth their time. People below them. He never questioned her repeated demands that he stay away from that side of town. Was never curious. Even now he's not curious. He's terrified and wants to leave. Wants to go to the safety of places and people he knows.

Cup empty, he turns to refill it and runs into a wall of muscle. Kurt opens his mouth to apologize to the person he ran into. But his mouth goes dry and tongue grows heavy as he looks at the gorgeous face of the man standing in front of him.

The guy, who is older, is devilishly handsome. Everything about him is dark. From his hair to his eyes to the clothes he wears. Even his polite looking smile hides darkness and an edge of ruthlessness behind it. Kurt can just make out the tattoos peeking out from the collar of the guy's shirt. A light stubble covers his jaw.

The guy eyes him. Arches an eyebrow in curiosity. "Who are you?"

The guy's voice is deep and warm, and sends a shudder racing along his spine. Kurt wants to hear it again. Wants to hear the guy speak his name. To growl it into his ear as he fucks him.

That thought takes him by surprise. Because he doesn’t know this guy. Can’t be having wild thoughts like that over someone he literally met ten seconds ago.

But there’s something about the thought that doesn’t feel out of place.

"I, uh... I-I'm..."

The corner of the guy's mouth curls up. "What? Can't remember your name?"

"I can remember my name." Kurt glares at the guy.

The guy’s grin grows, as if amused by Kurt’s anger toward him. "Then what is it?"

What the hell is his name again? It starts with a K. He thinks.

Shit!

Seconds tick by.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The guy's dark hazel eyes fill with amusement.

"Did you bump that pretty head of yours and forget your name?"

"No."

The guy takes a step toward him. Kurt takes a step back. His back comes in contact with the edge of the counter.

What. The. Hell. Is. His. Name!

He feels like the biggest idiot as he stands there unable to answer a simple question. But his brain is a jumbled mess filled with static noise as he stares at the sexy guy in front of him.

The guy reaches a hand up and curls it around the back of his neck. Kurt gasps at the strong shock that runs through him at the touch. Trembles when the guy presses his thumb right at the racing pulse point in his neck.

"You'll be fun."

Kurt doesn't have time to consider what the guy means by that because Jackie calls his name right then.

The guy drops his hand, which disappoints him.

"Kurt."

He looks when Jackie runs up to him. She wears a look of concern and tightly clutches his arm, almost as if she's afraid he'll be snatched away.

"So your name is Kurt."

Kurt turns his attention back to the guy in front of him. "Y-Yeah... Kurt. That's my name."

The guy grins and Kurt feels a tingle race throughout his entire body.

"Good to know. See you later, Kurt," the guy says before turning on his heel and walking away.

Kurt watches him walk away. His gaze drops to his fantastic ass in the dark jeans he wears. He finds himself wondering what that ass looks like. What it would feel like in his hands.

Jackie tugging on his arm pulls his attention away from the guy. He sees his friend curiously eyeing him. "What?" he asks when he realizes she asked something.

"I was asking what Blaine wanted."

Kurt furrows his brows in confusion. "Who's Blaine?"

Jackie gives him a Are you serious? look. "The guy you were just talking to."

"Oh." Kurt looks at where Blaine walked away. Disappointment swirls in him at not seeing the sexy stranger. "He wanted to know my name." He looks at Jackie. "How'd you know who he was?"

"Kurt," Jackie lets out a breath, "that's Blaine Anderson."

The way she says his name implies he's supposed to know who that is. But the name rings no kind of bell for him.

"Who's Blaine Anderson?"

"Come on." Jackie grabs his hand. "We need to leave."

Kurt follows Jackie out of the kitchen. Surprised at the sudden urge he has to stay. "Why are we leaving? We've only been here a few minutes. We can stay." He wants to stay. Wants to see Blaine again.

"No." Jackie practically drags him out of the house.

As they leave, Kurt notices the people who eyed them earlier pay them no attention. A few even get out of Jackie and his way as they head for the front door.

Outside and walking to Jackie's Jeep, Kurt stops in the middle of the road after ripping his hand free of her tight hold. "What the hell, Jackie! Why'd you do that?"

Jackie turns to face him. "I was protecting you, Kurt."

"Protecting me. From what?"

"More like who."

"Who?" Kurt grows more and more confused by the second. "What are you talking about?"

"Let's get in the Jeep first."

In the Jeep, Jackie practically speeds away from the house like she committed a crime.

"What is going on, Jackie? Slow down before you crash!"

That seems to produce the opposite effect since Jackie picks up the speed. And what should have taken them thirty minutes, Kurt finds themselves outside of Eric's place less than ten minutes later.

Jackie shuts off the engine. She drops her head back against the headrest of the seat and lets out a heavy breath. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" She covers her face with her hands.

Kurt starts to grow worried something terrible happened. "Jackie, what's wrong?"

Jackie slams the palm of her hand against the steering wheel a few times after lifting her head. She curses a few times.

"You're starting to worry me," he says after she's calmed down.

"I'm sorry. It's just..." She breathes and turns in her seat to face him. "I shouldn't have taken you there. It was a stupid idea. I didn't think..."

"Think what?"

"I didn't know he was going to be there."

"Who?"

"Blaine," Jackie breathes out. "I was told he would be gone until next week."

"What does it matter if he was there? Who is he, Jackie?" Kurt wants to know everything about the sexy stranger who seemed dark and dangerous.

Jackie takes a breath. "He's dangerous, Kurt. And I'm not talking about those lame bad boys that go to our school. I'm talking about the kind of bad boy that got out of prison last year. He runs with the Dark Demons. You've heard of them, right?"

Kurt nods his head. Everyone has heard of them. They're a notorious motorcycle club. Known for violence and wealth and power. They run drugs and weapons. There's even rumors of some of the dark things they've done. Things that no amount of asking for forgiveness will grant them peace.

"Yeah, well, he's a member. One of the more fucked up ones, I've heard."

That nugget of information has Kurt thinking back to the small bomb Jackie dropped in his lap moments before. "You said he was in prison."

Jackie nods her head.

"For what?"

"What I heard, and it could be total bullshit, but apparently he beat some guy to death when he was seventeen. Who knows, though? It could be for something else."

Where that piece of information should scare him, Kurt finds himself mostly unaffected. He isn't suddenly terrified of the guy who went to prison. In fact, he finds himself curious for what the truth really is about Blaine's reason for being in prison.

"Stay away from him, Kurt," Jackie says when she catches him contemplating things. "He is nothing but bad news. Did he tell you anything?"

Kurt thinks of what Blaine told him before Jackie interrupted them. Thinks of Blaine's words You'll be fun and knows he can't tell Jackie about them. That she'll go crazy and do something even crazier.

"No." He shakes his head. "He just wanted to know my name."

"Good. Maybe he'll stay away."

"Maybe." Although he says that, Kurt finds himself hoping that isn't the case.

It should scare him that he wants to see an ex-prisoner who is apparently as twisted and fucked-up as they come. But for some reason, it doesn't.

There was something about Blaine that drew him in.

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

A few weeks pass and nothing happens. His life goes on like normal. He hangs out and parties with his friends. Fools around with his friend Colin that he messes around with from time to time. He goes to school and acts like everything is okay at home.

The entire time Blaine is there in the back of his thoughts. He wonders what he's doing or how he's doing. If he's alone or with someone. If he's thinking about him.

Kurt hopes Blaine thinks of him. That he pops up in Blaine's thoughts in the middle of the day.

He doesn't want to be forgotten.

"Are we still on for tomorrow?" Jackie asks one Friday after school almost two months after meeting Blaine.

"Yeah. What time are you picking me up?"

"Early. Seven in the morning."

"Okay. That sounds-" Kurt comes to stop when he steps outside and sees who's there.

Leaning back against his bike, ankles crossed and hands gripping the seat of the bike, Blaine looks as devilishly handsome as ever. In a dark shirt, jeans, boots, and Aviator shades covering his eyes, he pulls off the bad boy, biker thing extremely well.

"Shit!"

Kurt barely hears Jackie's soft exclamation when she spots Blaine. His world has been reduced to this mysterious, sexy man.

Their friends around them all murmur and ask who that is. He pays them no mind. Only cares about the man who has been his go to fantasy when getting off these past few weeks.

He knows the moment Blaine sees him. Sees the grin spread across his face. His heart gives a hard thud in his chest at the sight.

Kurt takes a step forward.

Jackie grabbing his elbow stops him and pulls his attention away from Blaine.

"What?"

"Kurt, don't. He's bad news."

"I know. I just..." He locks eyes with Blaine. "I just want to talk to him."

Like a magnet, he feels drawn to Blaine. Like he's the innocent fish being reeled in by the tempting bait as he makes his way to the man who's been at the back of his mind since he last saw him.

As he makes his way over to Blaine, he notices students, guys and girls, curiously eyeing Blaine. Some wear looks of interest. Which isn't surprising since Blaine is extremely attractive and probably pulls attention wherever he goes.

Blaine pulls off his Aviator glasses. Kurt finds his breath catch at those dark hazel eyes watching him with so much interest and desire it sends a sharp thrill through him.

He stops right in front of Blaine. "Hi."

A devilish grin spreads across Blaine's face. "Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you again."

Kurt's pulse races. "H-How'd you find me?"

"Easily."

Blaine pushes off his bike and stands at his full height. He takes a step closer to Kurt. Kurt feels the heat radiating off him. Feels that heat wash over him. It intensifies when Blaine grabs the back of his neck like he did that night weeks ago.

Heart racing and cock pounding, Kurt is so desperate for whatever Blaine might do next that he would let him strip him naked and fuck him right there in the parking lot for everyone to watch and see.

Blaine stares into his eyes with his dark hazel orbs. "Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?"

It takes a second for what Blaine asked to register. "W-What?"

"A bike." Blaine gestures with his free hand to his behind him. "Have you ever ridden one?"

"Oh... No."

"That's okay." Blaine lets him go and climbs onto his bike. Kurt goes weak in the knees at how sexy he looks straddling the powerful machine. He doesn't stop Blaine when he grabs his wrist and pulls him onto his bike. "Hold tight and don't let go."

Arms wound around Blaine's midsection, he holds tight like instructed. He jumps a little when Blaine starts the engine and revs it a few times.

As Blaine begins to drive away, he looks over at his group of friends who all watch him with shocked and surprised expressions. Except Jackie. Jackie wears an expression of worry and regret.

He doesn't let the look get to him. Forgets about everything he should have done, and will happen to him when he gets home, and instead focuses on how it feels to be pressed close to Blaine's backside. The power of the engine between his legs. The sensation of the cool wind whipping against his face and through his hair. Head dropped back and eyes closed, he smiles at feeling free for the first time in a very long time.

A hand on his right thigh squeezing the flesh has him pressing closer to Blaine. Even more so when Blaine drags his hand up and inside his jean-covered thigh and covers the bulge between his legs.

It's extremely fucking sexy the way Blaine teases him with one hand while guiding the bike with the other. He should probably yell at Blaine to put both hands on the handles. But he feels too good; somehow trusts Blaine. Remembers Blaine has probably been doing this for a long time.

Blaine drives until he's out of town and goes into the country. Kurt is not worried at all when he turns onto a gravel road and drives until an old farm house comes into view. The house has two levels. A large porch is on the bottom level. A hanging porch swing gently sways from the wind. The paint is chipped and grass is seriously overgrown. But Kurt sees past that and can see the appeal the place has. Sees how a family could live there.

He climbs off the bike after Blaine comes to a stop and cuts the engine. "What is this place?"

"This is my parents' old farm. It's mine now."

"Really?"

"Why the surprise?"

"You don't really scream farmer to me."

Blaine chuckles. Kurt likes the sound. "What do I scream?"

Kurt eyes Blaine up and down. "Trouble."

Blaine grins and lifts a brow. "Do you like trouble?"

"I do."

Hand taken by Blaine, Kurt follows him past the house and to the old barn that has seen better days. He takes in the old structure when they go inside. Sees old, rusted farming tools and equipment. There's a wooden ladder that leads to an upper loft area.

He doesn't question anything when he follows Blaine up the ladder to the loft area. Where he expects it to be dirty like the rest of the barn, he's surprised to find it's clean. Everything looks to have been taken away. The only things up there now are an old couch, some rugs, an end table, and a lamp.

"What is this?"

Blaine walks over and drops down onto the couch. "My safe space, I guess you can call it. I come here when I need to get away from everything and think."

Kurt goes up to the open doors and looks out at the view. "This is nice." When Blaine says nothing, he looks back and finds him eyeing him. "What?"

"Come here," Blaine softly growls while tipping his head.

The command has Kurt instantly moving his feet over to the mysterious man he can't stop himself from wanting.

Stood in front of Blaine, heart pounding, a small squeak escapes him when Blaine suddenly hooks a finger through one of his belt loops and pulls him down into his lap. He bites back a moan when he feels the hard length of Blaine pressing against his ass. Every nerve ending suddenly firing and demanding attention. His body shakes with need.

It should terrify him what he's allowing to happen. He tries to remember he barely knows this guy. But those thoughts are outnumbered by how good he feels. How right this feels. That it doesn't matter that he only met Blaine once before for less than five minutes. Because those few minutes were enough to greatly affect his world.

Those short minutes were enough to awaken something inside him that had been dormant for too long.

"Why does this feel so right?" he muses out loud while running his fingers through Blaine's dark hair.

"I don't know." Blaine strokes a thumb over one of his flushed cheeks. "But it does."

The racing of his heart, the wild fluttering of the butterflies in his stomach all calm when Blaine pulls him down and their mouths brush together. A sharp shock courses through him at the teasing touch. He immediately wants more.

With one of Blaine's hands holding his hip, he moans when Blaine crushes their mouths together. His eyes flutter close and hands clutch at Blaine's shoulders. The kiss creates sharp tingles that race through his body.

Lips part under Blaine's demanding tongue. He groans when Blaine teases their tongues together. When they push and glide against each other.

The hand on his hip moves to grab at his ass. And where he shouldn't want the touch, should shove Blaine's hand away since he barely knows him, Kurt finds himself wanting more. He wants Blaine's hands on him. Wants Blaine to touch every inch of him.

He wants to feel a soft touch where there's only been roughness.

Blaine slips a hand under his shirt and splays it over the heated skin of his lower back. The area grows warmer under Blaine's touch.

The kiss intensifies. Blaine deepens it. A shudder wracking his body when Blaine nips his lower lip and sucks on it before pulling away.

Kurt breathes heavy as he comes down from the high of the best kiss he’s ever had.

"Is it true?" The question spills from his mouth unprompted a few moments later. He never meant to ask it aloud. Would have sufficed continuing to go on in the dark. But the question is out there now, and there's no taking it back.

"Is what true?"

"Were you really in prison?"

Blaine takes a breath. "Yes. Do you know why?"

"I've been told rumors."

"What rumors?"

"Jackie said-"

"Jackie?"

"My friend. You saw her that night at the party."

Blaine seems to mentally go back to that night to recall his friend. "What did this Jackie say?"

"She said you killed someone." Kurt looks away for a few heartbeats before turning his attention back to Blaine. "Is it true?"

"Will you think differently of me if it is?"

"I... I don't know."

A few minutes of loud silence follows. Finally, Blaine softly says, "I didn't kill anyone."

Kurt lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "What did you do?"

"It doesn't matter. I served my time. And I don't regret what I did."

Kurt presses closer to Blaine. No kind of fear surfaces at Blaine's confession. His feelings don’t change. He still wants this man. Is deeply affected by him in a way that has caught him by surprise.

"Let's go swimming."

Down by the small lake, Kurt watches Blaine as he begins to undress.

"You joining me?" Blaine pulls off his shirt.

Kurt stares at Blaine as he stands there shirtless. Stares at hard muscles covered in black ink. Fingers and tongue itching to trace and learn every line of Blaine's muscles and tattoos. He’s intrigued to know every story behind them. To know which ones are the most important to Blaine.

He's been with guys who were fit and had tattoos. But not like this. Not a man who looks every bit the dangerous he is. A guy who could easily wrap his hands around his throat or haul him over his shoulder. A guy who is the true definition of a bad boy, and not the watered down version Jackie called the ones at their school.

"Kurt?"

Kurt shakes his head and lifts his eyes up to Blaine's that hold laughter. "What?"

"Are you going to join me?" Blaine gestures to the water.

After quickly stripping down to just his underwear, Kurt takes Blaine's offered hand and jumps with him into the warm water. He breaks the surface, sputtering water and laughing. Feeling the happiest he's been in a long time.

Blaine pulls him close and kisses him.

His heart flutters and stomach swoops.

They lose time kissing and swimming. Kurt barely notices the passing of time. Minutes feel like seconds. Time somehow ceases to be at one point. It's just the two of them and what feels like forever.

Where he fears his feelings are one-sided, that fear is put to rest when Blaine pulls him close and says he feels it too.

Kurt isn't sure what is happening. But he knows it's something special and magical and a once in a lifetime experience.

Out of the water some time later and lying on the warm, soft grass, they hungrily kiss like it's been days and not minutes since they last did so.

Thighs parted and Blaine lying between his legs, Kurt moans at their nearly naked, wet bodies pressing close together. Heat swirls in his belly as his cock grows hard. Against his hip, he feels Blaine hard as well.

Blaine reaches down and palms at his bulge. "Can I taste you?"

Although something reminds Kurt he barely knows Blaine, that he's still a complete stranger to him, he finds himself nodding his head. Because something else, something that overshadows his other thoughts, is yelling at him how right and perfect this feels.

Blaine pushes up onto his knees and hooks his fingers in the band of his underwear. Kurt lifts his hips to let him pull them off. His hard cock springs free and smacks against his belly. Blaine pulls his underwear and tosses them in the direction where their clothes are.

Lying on the grass naked, the sun warm on his wet skin, Kurt feels beautiful and wanted as Blaine looks at him with a hunger no other guy has ever looked at him with before. He wants to be owned by Blaine. To fall into this wonderful moment forever and forget about the horrible secret he's keeping. A secret that made the decision to come with Blaine easy.

Lips press kisses down his neck and along his shoulder. They brush over the scar on his left shoulder. The one he got when he was eleven. He sees the curious question in Blaine's eyes when he lifts his head.

"Please, don't," he softly begs. He can't let Blaine ask about the scar. Because he'll break and tell him. And he doesn't want him to know. Can't let him know. "Please..." He grabs the back of Blaine's head and pulls him down to kiss him. Against his lips, he softly pleads, "Please, don't question it."

He breathes a sigh of relief when Blaine nods his head and begins trailing kisses down his chest and stomach. Tenses when Blaine brushes his fingers over the scar on his left hip while his lips brush a kiss to the scar just above his belly button. He relaxes when Blaine continues his path down his body and doesn't question it like he begged for.

The first drag of Blaine's tongue along the underside of his cock has him loudly moaning.

Blaine doesn't tease him. He kisses the tip of his cock before taking it into his mouth. Gives a long, hard suck before setting up a steady rhythm.

The sensation is wonderful. Kurt finds himself quickly on the edge. Cries out not long after from a powerful release. He shakes and trembles as Blaine pulls off and kisses him. Is still doing so when he shoves his underwear off and starts to jerk his cock.

He looks down and watches Blaine fist his cock. Watches the leaking, purple head push through the tight fist of his hand.

Blaine drops his head on his shoulder and grunts and groans as he chases his release. "Fuck. I... Can I..."

"Yes," Kurt moans into Blaine's ear, knowing what he wants. "Come on me."

Those three words trigger Blaine's orgasm. His cock jerks as he spills over his fist and onto his chest and stomach. Kurt softly whimpers as Blaine's release covers his skin.

He's never felt more owned and desired.

A laugh escapes him after Blaine collapses on top of him in a breathless, boneless heap with a soft fuck.

As they peacefully lie there in a comfortable silence, the sound of their breathing mixing with the sounds of the world around them, the sun starting to set, Kurt wishes time would stop so he could spend the rest of his life in this perfect moment.

"We should clean up," Blaine says after a while when the cum on their skin begins to dry.

Kurt agrees. Follows Blaine back into the water. Smiles when Blaine pulls him close not long after and claims his mouth in a rough kiss.

They get off together one more time before climbing out of the water. They lie on the grass lazily making out while drying off. Start to get dressed once they are.

The sky is turning dark when Kurt climbs onto Blaine's bike behind him to head home. And the sun is completely gone when Blaine finally pulls up in front of his house.

"Nice house."

"Thanks," Kurt mumbles, hiding his hatred for the place where he lives.

He climbs off the bike.

"I had a great time," Blaine says.

"Me too." It was the best time he's had in an extremely long time.

"Can I see you again?"

Kurt lets out a soft giggle when Blaine pulls him close and grabs at his ass. "Yes."

"When?"

"I'll call you."

"I'll impatiently wait."

Kurt laughs and kisses Blaine bye. And as he stands there and watches him drive away, he's left to wonder if the Blaine he was told about was just Jackie talking shit. Because the guy he got to know today didn't fit the person described to him.

He turns on his heel and walks to the front door of the house he hates. The house that feels more like a prison than a home.

The moment he steps into the house a hand roughly smacks him across the face. Kurt stumbles the slightest but shows no reaction to the hit. Has learned to contain his anger and hurt when struck. To project any kind of emotion, he learned at a young age, will only draw out the punishment.

Head lifted, the left side of his face stinging, and lip burning where it was split open by the ring, he stares at his stepdad. At Caleb Rothstein. The man he regrets his mom meeting and marrying.

The first time Caleb laid a hand on him was when he was seven. He was playing around in the living room and accidentally knocked over a vase. Caleb was beyond pissed and punched him in the stomach so hard he threw up the lunch he ate. He cried until he fell asleep.

Life since then hasn’t been the same.

"Where were you?" Caleb snarls at him. His eyes are hard with anger and rage, both of which he doesn't contain.

"With a friend."

Caleb slaps him again. This time he falls to the floor. "That's bullshit! Jackie called and said you left with that criminal!"

Kurt breathes through the pain radiating on the side of his face. He glares up at his stepdad. Mentally tells himself he only has a few months left before he leaves this place, and this man, for good.

"Tell me the fucking truth!"

Instead of lying and being punished even more for doing so, he decides to just be honest and deal with whatever Caleb does.

"I was with Blaine."

"You son of a-"

Kurt pulls in a gasping breath when Caleb roughly kicks him in his stomach. Tears well in his eyes after Caleb does it several more times. He curls into a ball to protect himself.

"You stay the fuck away from him! I find out you're with him again and I'll make you regret it."

The threat doesn't scare him. Not like it would have when he was younger.

Only after hearing Caleb's retreating footsteps does he slowly push himself up and escape upstairs to the safety of his room. Once there, he locks the door and pushes the dresser in front of it. Knows from experience that Caleb sometimes isn't finished with him and will come into his room and take out whatever anger he has on him.

Later, as he stands in front of his bathroom mirror after a shower, towel around his hips, he eyes the bruising already starting on his stomach. He brushes his fingers over the discolored skin. Hates that he knows the bruise will take at least a week to disappear. Which means there's no point in him going with his friends to the lake tomorrow. The bruising will be worse by then.

As he lifts his eyes to his split lip, barely touches a finger to the broken skin, he touches his other fingers to his lips. A smile turns up his mouth as he thinks about Blaine's mouth on him. How right and amazing it felt. How he wants to feel that again.

He dresses and climbs into bed. Ignores his stomach when it growls. Would rather go to bed hungry than risk going to get something to eat and running into Caleb.

He grabs his phone to text Jackie.

Kurt: Can't go tomorrow. In trouble.

It's total bullshit since Caleb told him nothing about not being able to go with his friends. But there's no way he can go with them and explain his injuries.

Jackie: Why?

Kurt: You know why

Kurt: I'll talk to you later

Kurt shuts off his phone to avoid Jackie's reasoning for telling his stepdad about Blaine. He knows she only meant well. But he wishes she wouldn't have said anything at all. Because now he's holding a pillow to his tender stomach while fearful of what else Caleb might do to him.

As he lies there, though, he thinks of Blaine and how even with Caleb's threats, he won't stop seeing him.

[kweebtrash]

Smut Prompt 1

JohnnyxReader

Warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, anger, aggressive nature

Words: 4.3k+

Features: Badboy/tattooed/hardcore dom Johnny, choking, rough fingering, finger sucking, rough roadhead, forceful hair grabbing/pulling, knife play, deep thrusting and gut scrambling, getting pounded into the mattress, unprotected sex, creampie, whiny/needy/subby reader, 

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1.  “Don’t make me take you home and punish you.”

I watched my boyfriend cackle like a hyena as he pulled the cigarette from his lips. He was talking to one of his idiot friends, someone who annoyed me because he always reeked of weed, and not paying attention to me. That was his first mistake.

The second mistake was not letting me fuck him before we came over to this dumb party which was really a bunch of dealers and their next trick scattered about a dingy motel room. There was at least free booze but it was barely quelling my appetite for Johnny. The summer air made the room thick and foggy, the air conditioner struggling to keep it cool with all the bodies within the cramped space. He had taken his patched and studded vest off and gave it to me to hold onto to then removed his shirt. That was when we first got here and now I had to stare at the way his tattoos snaked around his biceps and covered his chest, the ink seeming like it was shifting every time he rose his arm to press the cigarette to his lips.

The shirt had been tucked into the back of his light gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. The waistband of his underwear was a strip above and barely succeeded at keeping Johnny's dick print sheathed. It was so prominent; those sweatpants left nothing to the imagination which made me even grumpier. I had no idea why I had been so horny all day but it was time after time of denial. He would shove me away and tell me to quit bothering him or to get off him. He could be an asshole most of the time there there were pockets were his sweet side came out. That was why I stayed with him. Not to mention I had never had a man fuck me as good as he did.

But here I was, still horny, still bored, and still wanting to leave. I sipped at the beer that was handed to me by some blonde and continued to glare at his toned torso. I was jealous of every drop of sweat that glided down the column of his neck, dipping ever so slightly in his collarbone. How could I be jealous of that? Why was he driving me insane? I called out to him over the music and he glanced over at me for a millisecond before continuing his conversation. It was then I wondered if I had upset him or something. Perhaps he was just being fucking moody but I was tired of this entire scene. One thing I learned that never failed to get his attention was when other men, or women, tried to flirt with me-or better yet when they touched me.

He wasn't possessive in the sense that he was controlling and wouldn't let me do anything but rather in a primal way. As soon as he saw someone trying to vie for my attention he was snarling fury and ready to mark me. I loved that side of him and it made my body heat up with such tension that I had to press my thighs together and try not to cum right then. But now I had to set my plan into action and the tool that was stoned out of his mind beside me was the perfect play thing.

I lowered the neckline of my midriff tank top to show off more of my chest, leaning into the guy with the guise of chatting about beer, and pretended I was interested in whatever drugs he sold. I made sure my skirt rode up my thighs but still covered my ass-didnt want to give everything away. He was already staring at my tits while I talked, a good sign that he would get bold enough to perhaps stroke my thigh or even twirl a finger around my hair. I had been wearing Johnny's vest since he gave it to me but I tossed it off to show that I was "single".

When the clank of safety pins and buttons hit the floor, Johnny's eyes darted to me again, except this time they stayed longer. I pretended not to notice and leaned into my puppet more. He dared to caress my thigh and even grabbed my ass a little, which I hated. I didn't want him to go that far but as long as it didn't get to a point where I would have to kill him I would continue to play it cool. I made sure to cast a glance at Johnny and I was satisfied that his eyes seemed to have turned pitch black with the intent to hunt. The air trickled with anger that only I could feel. I added fuel to the fire by pretending that I was clumsy enough to spill beer on my chest, making a fuss over the mess. I then asked if the guy could get me a towel or something to wipe myself off with though he continued to make not so sly comments about wanting to lick it off me. After denying and shoving him away, he finally left in search of a towel from the bathroom. In that moment of peace my whirlwind storm grabbed onto my arm and hauled me onto my feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" Johnny growled.

"I'm drinking!" I squirmed in his grasp as more beer spilled on my arm from being yanked up so quickly.

"Mhm," he mocked. "What the fuck you doing all over that guy, huh?"

"I'm not all over him! We were just talking!" I pulled away from him and adjusted myself. "Don't be such a dick."

He didn't say anything more but he grabbed his vest from the floor and shoved me forward. I protested as he made me leave my drink and forced me out of the motel room and towards the parking lot. "Will you stop pushing me?!"

I was up against the warm metal of his car in a mere moment. He tossed his vest onto the hood and trapped me between him and the door. "You think you're so fucking slick, huh? You think I don't know what you're doing?"

"How could you know when you've been ignoring me all day?" I shot back.

He ran his tongue across his teeth and scoffed. "That's what this is about? You being a whiny little brat?!"

"I'm not a brat!" I stomped my foot to accentuate the word. "Is it a crime to want some fucking attention from my boyfriend?! If you don't want to give it to me then I'll just find it from somewhere else." I tried to move away but it was no use. His fingers dug into my arm, making me wince. Johnny pressed his lips to my ear as the other hand cupped between my thighs firmly.

"Yeah? Where else you gonna find someone that fucks you as good as I do? No one and I mean no one will ever make you scream, moan, or squirt like me. You want some pathetic fuck inside you? Is that it?"

I whimpered and wrapped my arms around his neck. "I want you."

"I know you do. Because you're mine. Mine."

"I don't feel like I am." I nuzzled my face into his neck and hid my puppy dog stare. He laughed against the bare skin of my shoulder as he shoved the center of my panties aside and moved two thick fingers into me. I gasped loudly and felt my thighs quiver. I couldn't get a hold of myself and was left clutching at his shoulders. The desperate need that I had following me all day made it so that his fingers were coated in my cum in just one push. He wasn't gentle at all. In fact, he was thrusting so hard into me that I felt like I would collapse at any moment. The shadows of the night kept us hidden but my sounds would surely give us away. It was hard not to scream when that dull and painful ache was starting to get fulfilled at last. "J-johnny!" I panted through a string of curses.

He cuffed the back of my neck and forced me to look at him. "Already whining for me?" He smirked.

I nodded helplessly as I couldn't get another sound out. The only thing I could think to do was grab at him through the sweatpants, wishing I could claw through the fabric. He pulled his fingers free from me suddenly. "Touch me and I'll stop."

"i-i want it. Please. I want you. Please. Please." I begged pathetically.

"What did I say?" He held his fingers away, showing off how my cum glistened in the sliver of pale yellow street lighting above us.

I bit into my bottom lip and whined. "Ok! Ok! I won't touch you. Just please keep going?" I stood on my tiptoes and placed kisses along his jaw to try and entice him. "I'll do whatever you want." I panted. "Anything."

"I know you will because whatever I say goes. You want me to fuck you in this parking lot, don't you?"

I nodded quickly and reached under my skirt in preparation to pull my panties down. Johnny shoved his leg between mine, the muscle of his thigh pressing against my center and leaving a hint of a wet spot on his sweatpants. “Don’t make me take you home and punish you.”

He pried at my mouth with his wet fingers and shoved them past my teeth to smear my own taste on my tongue. I sucked deeply and hungrily, wondering when he would stop torturing me. Tears prickled along the inner corner of my eyes as he pressed down onto the back on my tongue, forcing me to fight against my gag reflex. I gripped his wrist as I squirmed, knowing that he wouldn't pull away until he thought I was close to puking. He was all devilish laughter as he watched me surrender to his every whim. Only when I was a breathless and a teary eyed mess did he move away completely.

I coughed loudly and dragged my thumb knuckle beneath my waterline to try and keep the tears from messing up my makeup. He wouldn't want to see it ruined just yet. I sniffled and looked up at him, unsure of what he was going to do next. That bit of fear made my spine shiver but he simply unlocked and opened the passenger door and commanded me to get inside. I stepped into his car and made myself as small as possible while he walked over to the driver's seat. Once inside he tossed his vest at my lap before starting the ignition and hitting reverse hard.

I was jerked back in my seat and almost tossed against the door when he sprinted out of the parking lot and towards his apartment. "Get a cig for me."

I fumbled to quickly get the mostly empty carton from the breast pocket of his vest and pulled one out. Using the car lighter, I pushed the button in, waited for it to pop out, and set the cigarette between my lips.The now heated metal ignited the tobacco and filled the air with smoke. I handed it over to him and watched as he kept it pursed tightly in his mouth before making a harsh turn. Wind crashed through the open windows, providing much appreciated gusts of night air. It was way better than the air conditioner and eased the discomfort of my warm sticky skin.

Johnny was back to ignoring me, at least I thought so until he snapped his fingers. I barely had a chance to look over at him before I found my head between his stomach and the steering wheel, the bulge in his pants brushing against the tip of my nose. Though I still wanted my own relief, I wasn't opposed to sucking him off. In fact, I knew that once I blew him he would do whatever I wanted. He always said that I was the best head he'd ever had. My gag reflex may not be that great but I always made damn sure he felt like I was going to suck the soul right out of him.

From what I remembered from the drive over to the motel we still had a few minutes until we got back to his place. Just enough time to get him riled up enough so by the time we crossed the threshold into the apartment, I'd be filed and fucked to my heart's content. Just the thought of that made me smile as I kissed his lower stomach and followed his happy trail to the top of his pants. I wedged both his underwear and sweatpants down just enough for him to pop out. He was halfway there and I wondered if my desperation was the cause of his sudden growth. I nuzzled the base of his cock and giggled at the way it seemed to react to the cute touches. "Get to work." He grumbled as he shifted in his seat. A light twinge was at the corner of his lips and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. I was dragging my nails lightly up and down the toned dips in his stomach and though he hated to admit it he was awfully ticklish.

I wiggled my hips as I tried to get as comfortable as possible while being bent over the center console. The storage box was digging into my rib cage but with his big body and barely enough room in his shitty car I was stuck in a half twisted position with his girth now heavy in my mouth. I moaned around him and sucked deeply while I could still fit him in my mouth. Once he was fully erect my throat didn't stand a chance. He was still calm as he drove, humming along to whatever tune was playing on the radio. I held onto his strong thigh to brace myself against the wheels running over uneven pavement. I didn't need to hit my head on anything in the middle of swallowing him.

As he began to stiffen I bobbed my head along his length, swallowing around his head to tease the sensitivity. Johnny shifted his hips and cleared his throat, still trying to keep his cool. I pulled off from his shaft to stroke it while my tongue traced intricate patterns against his slit. The slight tang of the initial drop of precum hit my taste buds and I hummed in appreciation. I was never one to be interested in anything surrounding male cum but Johnny showed me every goddamn perfect thing about it. When it slid down my throat or filled me as deep as Johnny could go my body would go insane. It was another way of marking me, of preventing anyone else from having the satisfaction, and creating an unspoken intimacy between us.

I looked up as I pressed him back against my tongue, getting a little more than half of him down now that he was eagerly wanting more. His bottom lip was pulled taut beneath his teeth but when our eyes met briefly the bite of his lip turned into a scowl. He grabbed a rough handful of my hair and shoved me all the way down to the base of his cock, burning my throat as he prodded at the back of it. I dug my nails into his thigh and flailed restlessly, trying to get him to release me so I could breath. But he didn't stop.

The slow bobs I was performing before was nothing like the brutal way he slammed my head up and down his length. Each time I felt the stab against my esophagus I would squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on breathing through my nose. My hand was trembling as it gripped his sweatpants in a tight fist. He pressed me down again, holding me there for a small chunk of time, until I tapped out in a last ditch effort to breathe properly. He yanked my head back by my hair and I gulped in air quickly and in between coughs.

"Clean your mouth and stop being messy." He said as he flicked ashes out the window.

I winced and wiped my chin of saliva that had unfortunately accumulated from the deep suction. I swallowed hard and nudged my face into his neck while I fisted the head of his cock. "I love you." I mewled against his jugular.

“Mhm.” He answered simply. It was always ‘mhm’, ‘same’, ‘me too’. Never the words exactly. There were times where i hopelessly contemplated if he actually loved me or not. After all we were just two poor kids living in a dilapidated apartment on the wrong side of town. Hell, we even met running from the cops after we were at the wrong place at the wrong time for a drug bust gone awry. Maybe it was the adrenaline from running away but somehow i ended up in his bed that same night. Now a few months later i was head over heels for him and he was an enigma.

To continue to his cold feelings he returned to grabbing my hair and pushing me down to swallow his cock once more. It was the same repetition of painful yet thrilling chokes and gasps of air. This time i was able to work my tongue over him more and focus on flexing my throat. I felt him turn the car and slow down once i pulled up to secure another breath and lap at his shaft. We were at the apartment already and i wondered what was next for me. He cut the engine and yanked me upwards by my neck before crashing a feral kiss against me. I clutched onto his bicep, digging my nails into the black ink that doused his firm muscle. His big tongue warmed my mouth and sent my head into a foggy submissiveness. His hand came to cup around my throat, adding pressure to each side and the center. My lungs clenched in response as did the quivering between my thighs. Just when i opened my legs to try and see if he would receive my invitation for more brutal fingering he pulled away and set himself back in his pants as best he could. “Get your ass upstairs.”

I nodded and quickly got out the car, running as fast as possible to the inside of our apartment building. I fumbled to get the door open which gave johnny enough time to catch up. Before i knew it my back hit the uncomfortable and old mattress and my skirt was being ripped off me. Johnny climbed on top of me, a smirk on his face as he watched me reach out to him. His gaze casted to the side to a discarded pair of jeans he had left on the floor. A studded belt lay in its loops but soon resided in his hands. He pinned my wrists above my head and secured the belt around them, pulling it taught. I angled my hips towards him, waiting for his next move. “Touch me, you asshole!” I was becoming more and more impatient for my release to the point where my body ached,

“Shut your mouth.” The rest of the length of the belt was wrapped and tied around the non-functioning radiator near the mattress. He reached back into the pocket of the jeans and pulled out his favorite switchblade. With a simple flick, the blade was released and glistened with hidden desire. The tip of the blade started at my inner thighs, just barely scraping against my skin as I writhed. My heart hiccuped in my chest as the nerves hit. I felt like he would never cut me but a small part of me was curious as to how it would increase my lust for him. He continued to drag the blade over the seat of my panties. “Don’t move.”

I froze in place immediately and swallowed hard. “What are you doing?” I asked faintly.

One hand pulled the fabric of my panties taut in his fist while the other sliced the blade through it. He ripped the rest away and hurriedly pressed open mouth kisses and bites along my stomach and above my clit. The blade still teased along the edge of my torso where it continued to repeat the cutting of my tank top so my chest lay bare for him. He plunged the blade into the mattress beside my head with a snicker and sunk his teeth into my chest. I moaned deeply and arched into his love bite as my legs fell to the wayside, accepting him right between them. “You know i love teasing you until you’re so fucking desperate for me.” He pressed the words into my skin.

“You’re so fucking terrible! I hate you!”

“Sure you do. You wanna play your little games, this is what you get now.” He kicked off his sneakers and discarded his sweatpants before wrapping my legs around his waist. The anticipation of his cock pressing into my entrance that festered all day finally ceased to exist. In one swift thrust he was buried inside me, the pain shooting straight throughout my nerves. I screamed and struggled against the belted restraint as he delivered thrust after thrust. I had never felt so alive in that moment and the slickness between us reminded me of how much his body delighted every sense I had. He growled in between bites to my lips, my neck, my chest, anywhere he wanted to mark me and show the world that I belonged to him. 

“M-make me c-c-cum.” My voice trembled. “God, Johnny, make me fucking cum!”

“You’ll cum when I say you can, understand me?” He growled. He choked me then until I felt that fogginess again. I looked up at the dark filled voids his eyes had become, dilated with the adrenaline of controlling every aspect of our fuck. “Lift your legs.” He panted as his hips slammed into the back of my thighs. I raised my knees to my chest, my toes dancing across his shoulders and deepening the pressure in my gut. The hand on my neck switched to two and my eyes rolled back into their sockets. I couldn't say anything. The only thing I could do was watch visions dancing in my brain that were only of me and him. My legs flailed from the strength of his body devouring me. I clenched tightly around him, surrounding his cock like a vice. “Why are you so goddamn tight for me?” He huffed. The strength of the choking lessened and he held the sides of my face instead. “Look at me.”

I blinked through the swirl of colors that swirled behind my eyelids and focused on him. His hair was sticking to his face, dampened with sweat. I felt like I almost imagined a smile across his lips before he kissed me. It wasn't as hard as before but rather sensual and burning with passion for me. My cheeks flushed instantly and i could feel him descending into a slow stop. “B-baby…” I wanted to hold onto him and show him how much I loved him but he didn’t grant me that right. With his body away from me now I gaped around nothingness, feeling my own cum drip onto the sheetless mattress. He grabbed onto my hips without another word and twisted me around so I lay on my stomach. The belt dug into my wrists more and I could already feel them forming marks. I hissed and curled my fingers to focus the circulation to my hands so they wouldn’t feel so numb.

As i suffered under bondage, Johnny raised my hips and took his rightful pace back inside me. His stamina was just as strong and wild, plowing me into unforgiving ecstasy as he shoved my head into the mattress. I bucked against him, howling and whining at each movement. I almost didn’t feel him press his chest to my back or his fingers digging into me. The overstretching ached my small abused hole but the pads of his fingertips nudged as various spots in conjunction with his cock that had me gasping on the verge of an orgasm. The hand keeping pressure on my head moved to fumble through the intricate twists of the belt he created and finally released my hands. His lips were by my ear, a deep chuckle tickling the warm skin of the cartilage. “Now.”

The single syllable was permission to force my hands between me and the mattress to join him in pleasuring myself. I concentrated eager rubs and circles into my clit as i rocked back against him. More and more my legs tensed, my knees dug into the mattress, and my toes curled back. I heard Johnny gasp deeply, strangled yet so goddamn sensual that i followed suit. His cum splashed inside me, pushing back out since i was stuffed with his shaft still. I crumbled when the heat hit, my body shuddering completely as i lost a sense of self. It was as if i was contorting in the exorcism of the devils that tormented me with the hunger for his cock. In a final collapse we left the bed to be stained with cum, sweat, and the echoes of our strained voices.Johnny kissed the back of my neck gently and wrapped his arms around my rib cage. We shifted into a position of spooning as he remained inside me and kept his cum trapped for me to revel in. Fatigue set in almost immediately and it was practically impossible to stay awake. My eyes slipped shut and my breath evened out eventually. We silenced ourselves and just as i was teetering on the edge of sleep I heard it.

“I love you.”

[queen-scribbles]

Full of Surprises

Here we go, first Inquisition Commander!Fenris AU fic. :D I’d like to thank @lethendralis-paints for introducing me to the idea, and promise there will be Fenris POV in later pieces; this one just wound up sticking with the Inquisitor’s for basic set-up. ;)

---

Kerith Adaar was a hard woman to rattle.

 The nature of her business called for a certain level of implacability; being able to roll with new information or circumstances as if you’d planned for them from the start. These were the most bizarre “new circumstances” she’d ever found herself in--sickly green hole ripped in the sky vomiting demon, sealed by the same green now shimmering under her skin--and she’d managed to keep her head through it all. Adapt. Like she always did.

Which made it almost hilarious that the thing to throw her off when demons, murder accusations, and the wreckage left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes couldn’t do it, was an elf. 

In her defense, this was not just any elf. If his appearance--snowy hair and dull white tattoos that trailed down his throat to vanish under his armor--wasn’t enough to justify her surprise, there was also the fact he was an elf. In a position of obvious authority. In an organization begun under the auspices of the Chantry. The Vala-kos had done enough jobs for Chantry-affiliated persons, Kerith was well acquainted with how many of them viewed... others. 

She managed to curb her curiosity through the ensuing conversation among her new advisors--spymaster and ambassador, both human, and the elven commander. Best to remain focused on the more important issues; how things stood after the Chantry denounced them, spirited debate over what they should do next and who they should ally with to close the Breach for good. Given their shaky standing in the eyes of all available options, it was decided all they could really do was meet with the one person currently willing to speak to them; a Chantry Mother working out in the Hinterlands. There were already scouts in the area attempting to make contact, Kerith could depart as soon as she received word of where, precisely, to go.

With that decision made, they all went their own ways, to attend their own business. Kerith shivered slightly as she stepped out of the chantry’s warmth, weaving sideways to avoid collision with a huffy nobleman in the doorway. He grunted something rude under his breath but she ignored him in favor of pulling her coat a little closer. Her time spent in Ferelden had not accustomed her to cold as much as she would have liked.

Kerith made her way through the village, secured supplies for the pending trip to the Hinterlands, and conversed with some of her new allies as she wandered before finding herself down at the training ground, not entirely by accident. She leaned against a post meant to hold a training dummy and watched her--well, their, this wasn’t just about her--apparent military commander lead what remained of the Inquisition’s forces through rapid-fire drills. He’d armed himself with a greatsword after leaving their council meeting, and wielded it with grace that spoke of hard-earned skill. Just one more angle to the enigma he presented.

“You have good form, Commander,” Kerith commented when there was a pause.

He flicked a glance in her direction, barked for the recruits to take a break, and then joined her. “Fenris,” he reminded her. “As I said before, the title is unnecessary. Did you need something, Herald?”

Kerith shook her head as she pushed away from the post. “Just getting to know people. And it’s Kerith; this ‘Herald’ business is unnecessary as well. I’m not that special.”

“Are you certain?” Fenris asked with a dry chuckle. He nodded toward the soldiers he’d been training. They were all staring at them--her--and a few whispering to their fellows. “They seem to think you are.”

“Wonder if that’s due more to what I am” --she tapped one of her broken-off horns--”or who I am, the Herald of Andraste, who glows and can close the little demon-spewing holes in the sky.”

“Hopefully the larger one as well, if all goes to plan,” he said, inclining his chin toward the greenish shadow that marred the clouds about them.

“Hopefully,” Kerith nodded. The Mark pulsed faintly, in time with the Breach, and she curled her hand into a fist. “And hopefully soon.”

“Indeed, I believe that would please everyone.” Fenris loosely crossed his arms and arched a brow. “But you said you wanted to talk.” One side of his mouth curved briefly higher. “I suspect you have a specific topic in mind?”

“You would be correct. A couple actually, if you’ve the time.” She ran a hand over her hair, capturing one of the narrow dark grey braids to absently weave between her fingers as she continued. “How did you wind up here?”

“I walked,” he deadpanned. “Or rode, when it better suited.”

Kerith rolled her eyes but laughed. “Enlightening. Though I meant more how did an elf get named military commander for a Chantry organization?”

He shook his head. “It isn’t.”

“I know it’s--we’ve--been denounced as heretical now, but that is how it started, isn’t it?”

Fenris gave another small shake of his head. “It was begun by Cassandra and Nightingale.”

Kerith snorted, picked at the end of her braid. “I’m pretty sure, as the Right and Left Hands of the Divine, Cassandra and Leliana are considered part of the Chantry. Or at least were; that may have changed with the whole ‘founding a heretical movement’ thing.”

“But they did not begin the Inquisition to be an arm of the Chantry; it was in answer to a threat. While they would have welcomed the Chantry’s support, this”--he paused to gesture at Haven and their set-up--”was their intention regardless.”

“With or without approval,” she murmured as she tipped her head in easy concession. “Still, folk like us are hardly the typical first choice of Chantry types, you must admit, no matter how well-suited. Especially for positions of authority.” She flexed her Marked hand and muttered, “Not that they got much choice with me...”

Fenris chuckled. “Kerith, you’ve spoken to Cassandra, have you not?”

She nodded. “Only a little beyond the council, but yes.”

He fixed her with a dryly amused stare. “Does she seem the sort to care in the slightest if her actions are typical in pursuit of her goals?”

Kerith laughed. “Can’t say she does. And I see you’re just as skilled with words as you are that sword.” Tattooed, eloquent, combat-trained... She shook her head with a rueful smile and muttered under her breath in qunlat, “Where did she find you?”

“Antiva,” Fenris answered in common with a faint smirk at the surprise Kerith didn’t try to hide. “Hard on the heels of a particularly nasty band of slavers. She made an excellent case, and I could leave my pursuit in... very capable hands. Ones I trusted to get the job done. So I left with her, and we returned only a few days before the Conclave was due to start.”

“Mm.” Kerith pursed her lips. It was a straight forward story, if notably light on details. But she could pry for those later. “You speak qunlat?”

“Yes.” He cocked his head, studying her. “I must admit to being equally surprised you do. From what Nightingale had found, you were raised Vashoth?” He waited for her nod of confirmation. “I would not have expected that to be something passed along to you, under those circumstances. Most who leave the Qun wish to abandon it entirely.”

She smiled thinly. “Some parts of your heritage you just can’t avoid.” Others you don’t want to. “But it came in handy once I was looking for work of my own. Vala-kos were the only ones who’d have me, and some of them don’t speak much common. But we all know qunlat.” She scuffed a foot through the snow, then arched a brow at Fenris. “Where’d you learn it?”

He averted his gaze out over the lake. “I... spent some time in Seheron. It’s always useful to know the local tongues of anywhere you find yourself staying long.”

“It is,” Kerith agreed. “Seheron also where you learned to fight like that?”

“One place of many,” Fenris replied with a small shrug, his crossed arms tightening fractionally.

She was well-versed enough in body language to pick up this was not a favored topic, at least not for public discussion. “I learned from many places as well,” she said, her hand drifting toward the hilt of one dagger. She let a beat of silence pass before changing the subject. “You really think the templars are the better option for dealing with that?” She jerked her chin toward the Breach.

“I do,” Fenris said with a nod, the tension that had stiffened his spine starting to bleed away.

“Cassandra and Leliana made a good case for seeing if the mages can’t give the Mark more power,” Kerith said, part idle comment, part seeing his response.

He shook his head. “Better to attempt suppressing the Breach itself than tempt mages with more power.”

There was a vehemence behind the words that made her raise a brow, but she decided against pulling that thread just yet in favor of staying on track. “You believe they can? To the extent we’d need?”

“In sufficient number, yes,” Fenris replied, rolling his shoulders.

“That’s the trick, isn’t it?” Kerith chuckled ruefully. “It’s hard to find sufficient number of anything right now.”

He answered her chuckle with one of his own. “That’s what we have you for, isn’t it, Herald?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Well played, Commander. I’ll do my best to drum up a sufficient number of allies, whichever course we pursue.” She looked up at the Breach again, bit her lip in thought. “It’s so big,” she murmured to herself. She curled the braid’s tail around her thumb. “Can’t imagine what it’s going to take to close that son of a bitch....”

“It will be quite the effort, whoever you call upon for help,” Fenris said, running a hand through his hair. “Will you have to open it again, as you did last time?”

“Void’s teeth, I hope not,” Kerith groaned, shuddering at the memory of the Pride demon they’d had to battle, one of very few things that had ever made her feel  small. She rubbed her forearm subconsciously, even though the remembered wound had been healed with nary a scar. “I don’t relish the thought of another fight like that.”

“Understandable.” His weight rocked foot to foot and back as he recrossed his arms. “It was quite the battle, from what I hear.”

“Would likely have been worse if not for those of you watching our backs,” she returned with a half-smile. “But yes. It... was not fun. And I hope nothing similar is required to close it for good.”

Fenris hesitated the briefest moment before voicing his thoughts. “If it were, the templars would also be a great help in that fight.”

“...as opposed to mages, who would perhaps be more vulnerable to demons.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s something for me to consider, since mine will apparently be the final word on the subject.”

“You are the one with the Mark,” he shrugged. “You are the one who can close the Breach. That lends your word on the matter extra weight.”

“Just what I always wanted,” Kerith said wryly, which earned a chuckle. She glanced at the restlessly shifting soldiers. “I’ve taken enough of your time, I’ll let you get back to it. I appreciate the conversation.”

“As did I,” Fenris replied, inclining his head respectfully.

He returned to training the soldiers as Kerith walked away, and she couldn’t repress a smile when she realized he’d learned as much about her as she had him. And with hardly a direct question. You’re just full of surprises, Commander Fenris. She didn’t know who to thank for dropping him in their laps--Cassandra, probably--but she had a very good feeling about the Inquisition’s military commander. 

Surprise that he may have been.

[stevebillyrecs]

Summer of ‘85 Fic Recs

If you live in the northern hemisphere and are anything like me, you’re starting to really miss summer right about now! Or maybe you hate the heat, and want to experience it only from a distance by reading about it in your safe, cool living room. Or hey, maybe you’re only in it for the lifeguard crop tops, sailor shorts, and ice cream licking, that’s valid, too. In any case, I’m here to interrupt the Halloween mood with some sweet, sticky summer fun (or summer angst, or summer smut)!

Included: fics featuring Scoops, Starcourt Mall, Hawkins Community Pool, the Fourth of July, and other summer shenanigans. Not included: fics dealing with all the other stuff that happened in S3, recovery fics, fics set after the epilogue or outside of Hawkins.

35 fics under the cut – happy reading!

Salted Caramel (And Other Flavors) by kate_button / @un-buttoned (3k, E)

Billy’s all tan and smug and shitty and Steve has. Feelings about it. He’s not too happy about it - Billy’s kind of a dick. And Steve can’t stop thinking about the way he smells. It’s a Problem.

there’s something about a sailor by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald​ (1k, E)

Billy gets Steve to leave the sailor hat on.

bloom by crappyfriday / @softloucre (20k, NR)

In a small town in Indiana, two boys spend the summer listening to music, eating summer fruits, smoking weed, and falling in love with each other. Vignettes throughout the summer of ‘85.

so many ways to talk about longing by lymricks / @lymricks (3k, M)

Steve wakes up–in a pool lounger–to Billy Hargrove looming over him. Billy pushes his sunglasses down and Steve thinks sleepily that it must be so that Steve gets the full impact of Billy’s narrow-eyed glare. “Harrington,” Billy says. “We’re fucking closed.” (or, three times Billy doesn’t let Steve touch the radio and one time he kind of does).

Bright by Kerasines / @kerasines (10k, E)

Steve’s face looks golden in the light of the setting sun, and when he drops his eyes from where he was holding Billy’s gaze, his eyelashes paint shadows on the light flush of red in his cheeks. He looks so fucking pretty that Billy’s breathless with it. Doesn’t know what to do, just holds still and can’t tear his eyes from his face as Steve leans in close, too close, to put lotion onto the front of his shoulders, rubbing it in carefully, so carefully, as if he’s trying not to hurt Billy. Touching Billy’s chest, staring at it where it rises with every shallow breath under Steve’s hands. Then he looks up, straight into Billy’s eyes, and Billy’s sure his brain stops working for a second.

Cherry by LazyBaker / @granpappy-winchester (WIP, 33k, E)

They’ve got ten minutes before Steve’s break is up and he has to go back to wishing for death with a smile.

I Like The Way You Look At Me by XxmerthurcatxX / @callmelilyshameless (800, T)

Steve stares a lot. Billy doesn’t mind.

No Running At The Pool! by Thei / @ihni (2k, NR)

“So”, she said, faux-casually, and thus sending a chill down everyone’s spines, “what you’re saying is that you care about us?” “No”, he said gruffly. “I said that you’re not drowning on my watch. I’m a lifeguard. It’s my job. If you’re gonna drown, do it in your own time.” Another smile, sweet like poisoned honey. “But this is our own time. And you’re off duty.”

Those American Thighs by Veeebles (2k, E)

He smokes the rest of Steve’s cigarette, tosses the butt away into the trees and lounges down beside him. Steve is still just sitting there, staring at how Billy stretches his body out, arms behind his head as he bathes in the sun. Those swim shorts should be illegal. They pull tight over his skin, leave absolutely nothing to the imagination where his dick is concerned, and barely reach past his mid-thigh.

something good right now by Highsmith / @rhubarbdreams (1k, M)

When Billy’s skin is almost feverishly hot from the sun, Steve’s fingertips touch his freckles like they’d touch the inside of him, carefully and longingly.

The Drowning of Will Byers by hoppnhorn / @hoppnhorn (2k, M)

Billy never imagined working as a lifeguard would mean actually saving a life.

spark to a flame by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (1k, T)

Billy’s stomach swoops. He can’t believe he’s holding hands with Steve Harrington, watching fireworks over the quarry. It’s so stupid and girly and…and…fucking romantic.

Buckle (When You Think of Me) by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (4k, E)

Billy doesn’t really ask. He just kind of does stuff. Steve is apparently filthy enough to be cool with it.

cherry pie by brawlite / @brawlite & ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (133k, E)

Billy Hargrove lives for summer. Endless sunshine, heavily chlorinated pools, roaming ice cream trucks, and unencumbered freedom? There’s nothing better. Even being stuck in Hawkins can’t ruin the summer for him. He eats it up, devouring every day whole.

A Day at the Fair by LazyBaker / @granpappy-winchester (500, G)

It’s pink. It’s a flamingo.

You Got That Hair Slicked Back (and Those Wayfarers On) by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (4k, M)

Five times Billy knows Steve is hiding something, and one time he finds out what it is.

you (FINALLY) rule by brutesa / @brutesa (3k, G)

“Ahoy, ladies!” Steve calls out when a group of girls enter the shop. Behind him, Robin rolls her eyes, picking up the whiteboard marker.

and you’re trying not to tell him by lymricks / @lymricks (3k, M)

Whatever. They don’t talk, is the point, and Billy doesn’t need to finish all these big, deep, tragic sentences in his head. He needs to know if Harrington can’t swim. For lifeguard reasons. It’s his job, all right?

I’m so bad, best that you’ve had by kate_button / @un-buttoned (4k, E)

Steve doesn’t like mustaches. Billy grows one because he’s Like That. Steve bitches about it. A lot. Until he doesn’t.

Turned Bitch by LazyBaker / @granpappy-winchester (2k, E)

Steve’s rock bottom has a name—Billy Hargrove.

ice ice baby by hoppnhorn / @hoppnhorn (1k, E)

“It’s just so hot out here.” And then the fucker takes the ice cube, rolls it down his chin, along his neck, and down to his collarbone. “I need something to cool off.” Steve usually would suggest using the pool sitting less than a few feet away. But he’s not that incredibly thick. He knows a game when he sees one, and he’s not about to give Billy any reason to stop putting that ice cube where Steve wants his tongue to go.

something happens and i’m by brawlite / @brawlite (10k, E)

Billy loves his job as at the Hawkins Community Pool. It’s even better now that Steve Harrington’s a lifeguard, too.

Scoops by itscrybabyharrington / @itscrybabyharrington (1k, E)

Steve presses his face against the cool lid of the ice cream freezer, watching the metal fog up with each gasp that slips from his mouth. It feels good against his overheated skin, a contrast to the solid wall of heat that is Billy pressed up behind him, fucking into him with enough force Steve finds himself lifting up on his tippy toes trying to squirm away. Or, Billy fucks Steve with an ice cream scoop.

I Couldn’t Help It, It Had To Be You by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (4k, T)

Determined to overcome a summer of boredom and too much ice cream, Steve joins the Hawkins running group. Unfortunately, it turns out the secondary purpose of said group is for the ladies of Hawkins to gush about the effect Billy Hargrove is having on their rosebushes. But maybe if Steve wasn’t so busy being offended by Hargrove’s mere existence, he’d realise he’s completely missing the point.

Holy Shit! by harleygirl2648 / @somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds (2k, T)

There’s no swearing on duty, even if those are the only words that apply to a sudden realization that is going to ruin/better your entire summer.

Back Atcha, Pretty Boy by XxmerthurcatxX / @callmelilyshameless (2k, E)

Steve goes to the pool to pick up the kids still in his Scoops Ahoy uniform and is less than thrilled to find out that Billy is the new Hawkins Pool lifeguard. Honestly, who thought putting Billy in those tiny ass swim trunks was a good idea? It was doing things to Steve’s brain that he’d rather not think too hard about. But he doesn’t have to worry since it seems like Billy is pretty taken with Steve’s sailor uniform…

Hopeless by LazyBaker / @granpappy-winchester (400, G)

Steve Harrington has chest hair.

wicked little town by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (20k, E)

The summer after graduation stretches before Steve, seemingly endless and utterly empty. He can’t remember ever being this bored in his life. But when he runs into Billy one night, after hearing a rumour about him at a party, it feels like summer might not be so boring after all.

Tacky Tattoos and Red Trunks by mAadMax / @c0bblenygma (2k, E)

Steve keeps hearing about Billy’s new tattoo and can’t help but being curious about it.

Billy, Steve, Robin and the Not-Obsession by williamastankova / @samaraclegane (3k, G)

In a nutshell, Billy is convinced Steve and Robin are secretly dating (even though they’re really, really not) and it starts to get on their nerves - especially Steve’s.

A Simple Plan by flippyspoon / @flippyspoon​ (5k, T)

Billy has a plan. Steve hanging out at the pool is definitely not a part of it.

Lets hear it for the boy! by nipsu / @nipsus (1k, T)

It’s raining and without thinking Billy gives Steve a ride home. Steve’s shirt is see through and Billy drools like a baby.

You Are What You Eat by XxmerthurcatxX / @callmelilyshameless (800, T)

Steve eats a banana. Billy likes it. A lot.

Won’t You Lay Me Down in Tall Grass (and Let Me Do My Stuff) by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (6k, T)

Fourth of July BBQ at the Byers’. Billy takes out a demodog with a lawn chair while wearing red speedos and smoking a cigarette. Other things happen too, but that’s a highlight.

Ocean of Flavor by itscrybabyharrington / @itscrybabyharrington (700, G)

Billy shouldn’t even be back here, if they get caught it would only add on to the multitude of reasons Steve should rightfully be fired.

[lxveille]

Wonwoo + Number 19 + Soulmate!AU

title: implicationswc: ~ 1600a/n: it’s a soulmate marks au, but also lowkey a dystopian au. (bc my anti-soulmates self couldn’t help myself whoOPS). but anyway!! i actually really enjoyed getting to play around with this plot and world idea so thank you for sending it in❤

You see it on the news at work. It’s already nearly the end of your shift; no one seems to really notice the way you’re suddenly staring at the TV screen hanging up in the corner of the diner. There’s footage of him being brought into custody while a reporter explains he was arrested in the unmatched housing he lived in. Tonight, though, he would be in jail.

Authorities are uncertain if they’ll be able to find the suspect’s soulmate; it’s predicted he’ll be tried as a halfsoul citizen, but anyone with information on a matching soulmark is encouraged to contact the tip line. The number is left up along the bottom of the screen, beneath an artist’s recreation the prisoner’s soulmark. A thick-lined heptagon with a whole web of intersecting lines inside of it.

You only need to count the number of lines. After that, you don’t need to roll up your own sleeve to check. You know. Dread creeps down your spine, and you check the clock for how much longer you have before you can clock out.

The rain makes you walk home faster than planned. Some part of you feels like you shouldn’t rush. That it will make you look suspicious. The other half of you knows this isn’t a rational thought. It’s not as if someone will look at a stranger running down the sidewalk and immediately assume they must be in a panic over having found their match. Hope, at least, that they’ll blame it entirely on the pelting rain. And be grateful that you only work six blocks away from Southome.

Southome Hall is one of the smaller unmatched housing buildings in the city. When you’d turned nineteen without having yet found your soulmate, you were relieved to be placed there. It may be an older building, with stairs that creak in places and windows that need to be slammed in order to latch shut, but you’d had no interest in the massive, clinical looking unmatched homes that the government started putting up in recent years.

You take your keys out when you’re still half a block away. The steps up to the front door are slick with water. There’s a puddle already formed in the chipped-away hole in the stonework of the middle stair; you realize it too late, just as your left shoe submerges directly into it. With a groan, you try to shake some of the water off as you move up to the landing and push your key into the lock.

Inside the entryway, you can still hear the rain clearly against the windows. It’s quiet in Southome. For what feels like the first time since you hurried out of the diner, you take a deep breath. And let it out again as you try to rub off some wetness from the bottom of your shoes on the entry mat. Your eyes scan over the bulletin board as you do, taking in the various pictures of soulmarks posted on it, with contact information desperately attached to each one. There had been a time, shortly after you first moved in, where you’d thought about sending your own out to other unmatched housings’ boards. It’s been a long time since you’d seriously considered doing it. And now – a part of you is endless relieved you never had.

When you start off down the hallway, it isn’t your room you’re heading towards.

The way Wonwoo looks you over upon opening his door suggests he can already tell something’s wrong. He doesn’t say anything more than ‘hey’ before stepping inside to let you into his place.

It’s dim in his apartment, as usual. One of his overhead lights went out nearly two months ago. The work order still hasn’t been fulfilled. While no one has told him the reason why directly, you both already know it’s because Wonwoo isn’t proactive enough in finding his match for the superintendent’s tastes.

“You should’ve taken an umbrella with you today,” he tells you. At the same time, he pulls a folded up towel off from the shelf above his desk in the corner of the room and throws it your way. It unfurls midair, but you manage to catch it all the same. You press your face into the soft fabric, and try to convince yourself not to cry. When you’re confident you won’t break down immediately, you spread the towel out on chair before sitting down yourself. Wonwoo is already sitting on his bed again, sketch pad face down on top of the sheets. He must have been in the middle of some new design when you’d knocked.

“So, what happened?” he asks without any further delay. You slump forward in the chair, and wish you weren’t so easily read. And hope, perhaps, that it’s only Wonwoo who can see through you so easily after all the time the two of you have spent together.

“I saw my matching soulmark today,” you tell him, hastily, like ripping off a bandage. Dread all too prominent in your tone.

He stares for a second. Then asks, “Are you sure?”

Wonwoo, out of anyone, has reason to ask. His own soulmark remarkably similar to yours. When he’d first moved in, you’d even thought at first that he was your soulmate. His was also on the inside of his left wrist – a heptagon with a web of lines inside of it. It took counting the lines and realizing his had 19 crisscrossing lines to realize it wasn’t a match.

Still, you nod. “There were sixteen lines,” you confirm, “I counted.”

He goes silent again. But you, too, can read him to some extent. Enough, at least, to tell that he doesn’t feel he has any right to be upset at your news. That he must be thinking back to when whatever it was the two of you had began, when you used to insist how it would have to end once either one of you finds their soulmate.

“They came into the diner?” He decides to ask for facts to avoid dwelling on his feelings.

“He was on the news. He was arrested.”

A different kind of realization washes over Wonwoo’s face at that. “Are you going to go forward as his match?”

You wish you could sink into the floor. Or, more simply, never leave his room ever again. “He killed three people.” There isn’t much difference at that point between being tried as a halfsoul citizen or not. And given your own record – nothing wrong, but certainly nothing remarkable either – you’d probably just be putting yourself up to get jail time as well if you turned up at the courthouse.

“Shit,” Wonwoo breaths out. He’s already gone a step ahead of your own worries. To how if the match is ever spotted, you could end up in hot water. Even if your soulmate has already been in prison for years by the time anyone realizes.

“I know.” You slump in the chair, and look down at your wrist. The mark is still covered by your shirt and coat sleeves. Knowing it’s there is enough, though.

After some time, Wonwoo shifts on his bed to lean forward some and say, “You know, they don’t keep a record of soulmarks until they’re registered either by a match or an arrest.” He says it like there’s a secret message inside his words he expects you to catch onto. All you can do is shake your head and give him a puzzled work.

“So? He was arrested. It’s probably in the system by now already.”

“His is.” Wonwoo nods. There’s a kind of intensity in his eyes locked upon yours that you’re unfamiliar with. It’s distinctly different from gazes of passion or intrigue or fondness he’s given you before. As if there were something important and incredibly fragile hanging in air between the both of you, and he knew he was about to say something that could shatter it all entirely. “Yours isn’t.”

He gets off the bed, but stays crouched over to stay even with your level. Everything about his demeanor suggests Wonwoo has no desire to say any of this louder than absolutely necessary.

He ends up crouched in front of the chair you’re in, holding his left arm up so you can see his familiar soulmark. With his right hand, he runs a fingertip along one of the lines running through the heptagon, and then along a second one. “I added those both a week after I got my gig at the tattoo parlor.”

It takes a minute for his admission to sink in for you. You lean in closer, searching for a distinction between the lines he claimed to be ink and the ones he’d been born with. It’s an impossible task.

You meet his eyes. There’s a temptation just to throw yourself into his arms and put off thinking about any of this any longer. You stay glued to your seat instead, and shake your head, overwhelmed. “What would I do?” you ask in a whisper.

Wonwoo tries to quell you with a small smile. His hands come to cup your left one, and then one hand is pushing back cloth enough to expose your soulmark. “I’d take care of it,” he promises. With your hand still resting in one of his palms, his other came up to trace three proposed lines into the heptagon already settled on the inside of your wrist. “There’d be no match for them to find.”

His finger runs over the same imagined lines a few more times.

“Get my drift?” he asks once it seems you’ve had enough time to process.

Your mark would match Wonwoo’s instead.

[ruby-stones-blog1]

A/N: I am very sorry for that mess of a fic. I wasn’t even sure if I would post this or even finish it. So here I am, with a shitty fic, a lot of typos and no energy. Mentions of @ariciaeast @cameronnicholls @domschreave @ladykatdempsey @princesscallieschreave . And sorry to all the people I have annoyed with the process of my fic. Enjoy.

The flower that blooms in adversity is the most beautiful of them all

My widend pupils absorb the shallow light hitting the shiny mirror infront of me. The last bits of sunshine are hitting my exposed neck, spreading warmth through my cold body. Pleasurable I close my tired eyes and softly massage my eyelids with my gentle ringfingers. The maids shuffeling around, cleaning my complexion and my gorgeous surroundings are turning into a comfortable background noise. You know what you’ve got to do Ruby. I mentally prepar myself for the upcoming evening, vividly picturing the stack of endless energy and sugar drinks hidden in the back of my drawer. “Do you have any plans for the ball tomorrow, Lady Ruby?”, Aurelia, the very outspoken maid, asks me while sofly brushing trough my curly hair. “No, not really. I don’t know for how long I’ll even stay at the ball, but I know for sure that I’ll stay away from our lovely prince”, I announce with a heavy voice, playing with the hem of my light pink night gown. “You are still upset about the Interview, I see (…)”, Aurelia adds. Even though I can’t see her face in the mirror, I am certain that her eyebrows are narrowed as always when she is speaking in a thoughtful tone like this, creating a slight crease. “Lady Ruby, I am pretty sure that he doesn’t think any less of you than the other girls”, Luna comments while gracefully preparing my bed, tucking a brown strand of hair behind her ear. “Mhh (…) I am not quiet sure about that”, I mumble slightly before getting up from my seat. “But I don’t want to think about that now, I need my beauty sleep. Thank you ladies for your astonishing work”, I thank my maids with a genuine smile, seeing a little twinkle in Radia’s quiet eyes. “Are you sure you don’t need us anymore?”, Radia speaks up, gazing around my room looking for any flaw in our surroundings. “I am very sure my dear. Now hush, hush, you need to sleep as well!”, I laugh quietly settling down onto my bright duvet. “Good night Lady Ruby”, the girl announce in a lovely choir and with a last worried smile they leave the room, finally giving me some time to breath. Don’t get me wrong, the girls are lovely and definitely are much nicer and way kinder than I expected them to be, but constant company is still a concept foreign to me.

I crawl across my bed, slowly opening the bedside drawer and free my liquid courage from it’s dark prison. Carefully I tuck the colourful cans into a small backpack of mine, before grabbing a light pink coat from the game next to my wardrobe, matching my night gown. Doubts still spinning trough my busy head, I open the door to the hallway and silently close it behind me. Trying to eliminate as many noises as possible, I tip toe trough the hallway, letting my finger graze the rare wallpaper passionately awaiting the bumps gracing my soft finger tips. Still debating whether I should turn around or not, a dark brown heavy door with a golden sign reading the name ‘Lady Katharine’ comes up in my vision. With one step forward and one to my right I reach the door and let my shaking fist collide with it. A few seconds later I can make out a muted groan and something along the lines: “Who is it? I hope you realise it’s the middle of the night…” Ignoring the comment of her, I pock my head trough the door and greet her with a nervous smile: “Euhmmm… Hi Kat!”

She grunts and rubs her eyes, still lying in her warm bed: “What do you want?” You can still run away Ruby, you don’t have to do this. Kat will probably just assume she had a fever dream of some sort, it’s not to late. “I euhhmm… wanted to ask a favour of you”, I address my sudden appearance to her, still fighting the urge to run away. she slowly gets out of her bed, making her way towards my nervous figure: “What’s so important that can’t wait for tomorrow?” It takes a lot of strength to completely open the heavy doot, resisting the good sense which took control over my entire body. “A tattoo?” I blurt out in a high pitched voice, crossing my still shaking legs, hearing my bones kneecaps collide. “I heard you are up for everything.. So I figured why not ask you?”, I add trying to sound convincing.

Suspiosly raising an eyebrow, she states: “Well…”, stops herself with a quiet sigh and goes through her shiny hair, “Fine, what do you have planned little Stone?” No backing out anymore. “You know Dom said I wasn’t having enough fun and I realised I got the chance of a life time and can finally do whatever I want, so why not get a tattoo? I thought about getting a wolf with a quote or something like this”, I widely grin with trembling lips, playing with my raw hands, trying to calm myself down a bit. She won’t bite you, Rubes. She simply frowns at my statement, disfiguring the brunettes otherwise regal complexion, making me wonder where I went wrong. “You don’t need to change because he says so… Is this what you really want? It’s not my problem but, you know”, she states clearly worried. I always thought Kat was an ice-cold queen, never deeply involved with anyone. Nodding my pulsing head I state with fake confidence leaking out of my throat: “I do. He just helped realise that I have got chance to change for better now. That’s what I wanna do. And come on tattoos are badass.” My failed attempted at finger guns didn’t make me seem so badass anymore (…). With a small scoffs she finally gives in: “Fine by me. Give me a sec.”

She blindly grabs some random clothes from a hanger next to her mirror and makes her way to the ginormous bathroom. Innocently I let my gaze wander across the room, viewing the few truffles she brought from home and study the two paintings littering the floor to dry. The light blue walls and decorations remind me of the sweet cold ocean, just the fainted memory of the salty air gracing my body sends a slight shiver down my spine. “Okay, let’s get you in trouble”, Kat suddenly announces with a joyful grin lingering on her face, making me jump a bit. Just as the heavy door is opened by Kat, realization enters my body and excitement numbs my brain. I will actually get a tattoo tonight, accompanied with the biggest trouble maker I know. We could become trouble budys!

Norepinephrine and endophrins are floating my bloodstream, making my body jump nearly as high as I hit launching pad. “Follow me. But if you don’t keep your mouth shut, we’ll both be dead, so don’t try to chitchat with me, got it?”, she states in all seriousness, making me nod in a polite manner. After we managed to leave Castle which has more similarities to a labyrinth than any other architecture, we slowly dive into the electrifying night life of Angeles, with a can of a sugary substance near my lips.

“Can I talk again?”, I plea with wide eyes and a pouty lip. Kat simply sighs and adds a “If you have to so badly.” “Sooo how do you know where the nearest not so crappy tattoo shop is?”, I ask out of curiosity, strolling beside to her, enjoying the exhilarating view. “I don’t. As soon as we reach the part of town where the nightlife is, I’ll ask someone”, she shrugs her shoulders while explaining, “Just need to ask the right kind of people.” “Ohh .. okay. As long as we don’t end up in the gutter, I am fine”, I state while admiring the nature around me, listening to the birds chirping lullabys to their children.

“So do you have tattoos?”, I randomly ask a question which appeared out of nowhere. “Three”, she answers while nodding her head, facing the buildings at the sidewalk to our left and closely watching the people around us. “Wow. That’s impressive. When did you get them?” Isolated faces appear in my vision, every single one with it’s own unique features and stories. “They’re not that big, so I had two small ones on my feet done at the same time like a year ago? And the last one seven months ago or something.”

“Did it hurt a lot?”, I ask a bit nervous, realising I haven’t thought about that before. While awaiting her answer, I nibble the tops of my nails, running my perfectly done manicure. The brunette next to me simply raises an eyebrow, still watching the crowd and answering in a cool tone: “Not that much, depends on the place…Are you still sure about this?”, she takes a short pause, deeply inhales and slowly faces me, “This is all fun and game but if you start crying, I swear-”

“I promise I won’t cry”, I state before remembering the unpleasant incident after the interview, “I’ve heard that upper back tattoos aren’t as painful as other ones.” Viewing the sidewalk infront of her, she states: “Hmm, well you do ballet, don’t you? Nothing can hurt more than walking on those awful ballet shoes.” She wrinkles her nose, probably shivering at the thought of dancing on pointé herself which makes me laugh a bit. “Yeah that’s true. My feets are really thankful for the break the selection is giving them”, jokingly state trying to forget about the possible pain which will await me. But maybe Kat it’s right and it won’t hurt more then falling a few feet down from the bars. “Lucky you”, she states before spoting someone who intruges her in someway, “Now, wait here, don’t move. Don’t do anything more stupid than this whole idea either.” she turns around and stalks towards a random man with a lot of tattoos and trained muscles shaping his figure.

As soon as she opens her mouth her body starts to relax and shifts in a more comfortable position. A distant smile is appearing on her face and her entire being morphes into someone, something else before returning to me and the real world. “You coming little Stone? I think Selected get a discount”, she shouts across the dark street, a little smirk gracing her smug face. Excitement is drowning my body with stimulations, jumping in the air and tasting the sweet air around me. A ring bells as we enter the shop, loud music is pulsing through my veins, and bright lights are illuminate the room. Kat strolls over the counter, leaning her body against it and whispers with the good looking man infront of her. “Last chance to back up”, she simply states, silently pleading my conscious mind to leave this place. My head is shaking, negating her silent plea: “I want that, don’t worry Kitty. I am all grown up.” Her face hardens again, annoyance leaking out of her harsh words: “No you’re not. And don’t call me that, we’re not friends”, she simply nods to the guy at the counter and continues her instructions, hands in her hips and a straight face for everyone else to see, “Now go tell that guy what you want to get inked in your skin forever, and get it over with.”

The first thing I notice is the unbearable pain in my back, spreading from my upper back to my head and spine. A moan rips through the mid day air, as fire is burning my skin. My eyes fly open in a hurry, fingers are caressing the burning flesh on my back. I sit up straight, trying to eliminate the pain which is caused by rubbing my back against the silky beedsheets. The events of the past night still lingering in my head, I rub my eyes and pay the bathroom a short visit, wondering where my maids are. “Radia?”, I shout trough the bathroom door. No answer. Still a bit sleepdrunk and drowsy I toddle trough the bright hallway searching for my lost maids, the midday sun shining through the large windows, illuminating the floor.

“Hey Rubes, look, theres a ball”, a familiar voice makes their way towards me. In the distance I can make out a stunningly beautiful redhead, embellished with glamours clothing and makeup. “Wait what?”, I wonder a bit dumbfounds, still walking down the glimmering hallway in my now dirty night gown. “The next challenge, weirdo”, she states, loudly laughing as a few strands of her fall down from her lovely updo. “Wait so there will be an actual ball? With ballgowns and music and a prince and stuff like that?” “Yep, exactly like that” “Oh shit”, I swear, nearly running to my room, “so when does it start?” She flinches with her fingers, her eyes searching for a clock in the distance. “Two-ish hours? Maybe three? You better get ready quick, its taken my maids an hour just for hair”, she laughs out loud while touching a curly strand of hair, framing her face. “Holy crap. Thanks fin!”, I declare while blowing her a sweet kiss and dart away towards my door like a scared deer.

As I turn the knob I can hear my maids worriedly chatting about my disappearance. “Ohh Lady Ruby, we thought you would never wake up!”, Aurelia states pulling me into a warm hug, slowly hissing at her touch. “Just like Sleeping Beauty”, I hear Luna giggle from the other side of the room. “But now hush-hush, we need to get you ready for the ball my dear”, Aurelia exclaims, pushing me onto a seat while already working on detangling my hair. “Ohh Radia would you be so kind to bring me some painkillers? My head is being awful today”, I remember to ask after seeing the glass of water next to breakfast on the wooden table, testing my lying skills. The pain in my back gets more bearable as plenty of hair is teased, makeup hides my flawed figure and time passes. My father’s finest jewelry is added to my glowing complexion and a mixture of sugary drinks and heavy painkillers makes me radiant as the sun from the inside.

A strange liquor with a heavy taste makes it’s way down my throat, burning of the mucilaginous skin, numbing every part of it. A bitter taste clings to the back of my throat, making me wonder why I consume this liquid in the first place. My gaze wandere around the room, gracing the dancing beauties, looking for familiar faces. Just minutes ago I was among the crowd, full of life, dancing along the guests and guards. I was ripped out of my blooming state of mind as I saw a familiar face, getting involved in a strange conversation, laughing about the fear of horses and nature fetishes. In the distance I can still make out her regal complexion, gleaming full of grace, her whole being radiating royalty, but in a different way than her brother. I take another sip of the burning red liquid and turn my back to the celebrating crowd, drunk on happiness and full of energy, searching for a cold lonely place. With soft steps I walk onto an abandoned balcony, soothing cold wind hitting my bare skin and soft candle light is illuminating the dark night. Soft waves complete the otherwise resting skyline, occupying my restless mind and soul.

A soft “hello?” disrupts my never ending train of thoughts. With a silent “Huuhh?” I turn around, towards the source of the sudden sound. “Ohh, hello Lady Aricia”, I greet the incomer, studying her calm presence. “Hello Lady Ruby! What are you doing out here?”, she strolls over, a simple smile playing around her soft lips, settling down beside me and letting the wind pass through her silky blonde hair. “Ohh I just needed a break, giving my body some time to sober up a bit, but I don’t know if that will work”, I half truthfully state while holding up my alcoholic beverage. “Ahh, i see”, she laughs a bit while continuing her statement, “the first step of sobering up is probably to get rid of the alcohol.” Well she is not completely wrong. “Yep, that’s why I need to finish this”, I affirm before emptying the glass full of treacherous alcohol, whose name I can’t even pronounce, placing it gently on the railing. “So why did you leave that electrifying party my dear?”, I ask of curiosity, genuinely trying to engage into a conversation

. She simply shrugs with her shiny shoulders before voicing her reason: “Well, my feet started hurting from all the dancing, and i was having some conflicting emotions about stuff, but mostly, I just wanted to stop listening to that god awful music.” A melodic laugh disrupts the silent nightsky and is being carried away by the gentle wind into the endless darkness, before my soft voice can join her melody. “It’s not that bad.” “Well when youve been dancing and listening to it all night it gets a bit repetitive”, she declares while studying my expression incredelously, wondering what went wrong in my pretty little head. “Touché. So any interesting thoughts about our dear prince so far?”, I ask, still testing my social skills. “He’s alright, he’s nice and has a good taste in music, except he doesnt like classical. But i can probably convince him that classical is wonderful by the end of the selection. how about you, my dear”, she dissolute recounts her first impression of the prince, while simply winking at me, without me fully grasping her reason behind it. “He seems very nice indeed, but I am not so confident about my time here as you are”, I admit, trying to finally get out of my shell. “Aww, why?”, Aricia simply wonders, a frown gracing her delicate skin. “Apparently I am very boring. I talked to Alina earlier and she mentioned that I shouldn’t really worry about that, but I don’t think he seems very interested, in me at least”, realising I said too much, I desperately look at my glass, trying to find the answer to all my problems in it’s reflecting form, “Gosh I wished I had more of that sweet liquor.”

“I don’t even know I am talking to you about this”, I slightly shake my head while depicting my thoughts. “Hey hey hey”, she softly acknowledges my trouble, placing a hand on my bare shoulder, “If you need someone to talk to, i’m here. You should never hold your feelings inside because they will only destroy you.” Her blue eyes are full of compassion as I give her a sad but genuine smile. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you. I am just so used to barely talking to anyone ever and never even talking about my feelings and thoughts, that it feels so wrong speaking up about anything now”, I open up trying not to worry about possible consequences I might face. I don’t know if the alcohol is loosening my tongue or if her calming aura stirs up something familiar and trusting deep down inside and let’s me trust her more. “Yeah, it’ll take some time, but it’ll all work out at the end. So, how was your life back home? Where are you from?”, she tries to ease the conversation, changing the topic as she senses my discomfort and works around it.

“I am from a very small town in Dakota, with a tiny gymnastic club and ballet school which practically represents the entire social contact I received until now. What else is there to say? (…) Well my parents are wealthy jewelers, I was born a 4, trained to become a 2 and am an only child.” “Oh, that sounds cool! did you like your life in Dakota?” Haah, as if. “It mostly sucked, if it didn’t I wouldn’t have been so desperate to get away. Most people I know aren’t very nice, including my parents.” Alcohol is now pumping trough my veins, spitting out words I’ve never dared to voice before. I barely her hear answer, the blood so loud, pulsing near my heart. “So apparently both of us have awful parents, great”, I laugh a bit bitter at this irony,why do I only connect with people who are wearing a similar pain to mine, “You know I came hear to live life at it’s fullest but now that i tasted it, fear is consuming me. I always worry that I don’t have enough time left to experience everything I want to. And there is always my mother’s treat in the back of my head”, I thoughtfully proclaim which devolves into an ongoing conversation about our life after the selection with a promise of friendship and companionship, living together and leaving our toxic families behind. But how long will she stay? Will she leave when she gets to know my darker side, the ugly truth and the hurtful words I can so casually voice. Her gaze wanders across the moon, counting the stars and listening to soft music of the waves.

“So have you got any exciting plans for the time you are still here?”, I ask watching the nightsky as well, wondering if God is watching right now. “Well, not really, I just want to enjoy all the experiences, and hope that everything works out well”, she sighs before adding a quiet “You?”. “I’ll just enjoy making my own choices and trying not to think about how stupid they are.” Remembering the events of last night, I try not to giggle, realising it was an obviously stupid decision. “Yeah, you should let loose and have fun!!”

“I am trying very hard, okay?”, a genuine laugh originates from my slim belly, making me feel all warm inside, “My next goal actually is to finally taste some chocolate cake.” Her smile still hasn’t left her face and makes her glow in the soft candle light, filling the night sky full of genuine happiness: “Ah, we should go to the kitchen one day together and try the cake!” “We definitely should. I need someone to protect me so I won’t die of a sugar overdose”, another giggle escapes my blood red lips and makes me seem drunk on happiness. Aricia’s melodic laugher combines with mine a second time before she breathy voices her approbation: “Same Ruby same!”

“We’ll probably die together. Just like Romeo and Juliet.” What a tragic ending, I can already see the headlines - ‘Selected die of sugar overdose - Is chocolate cake really that dangerous?’ “Wow, Ruby, very pessimistic”, a small sigh escapes lips as her endless laugher are dying down, “is there anything that you really want to do with your life?” “To fall in love?” I sigh as well, realising to late how our body language is adapting to each other, “I would also love to finally make friends. I don’t know I am good at that and if I’ll be able to put my trust into people but I really want to try that. And you Aricia?”

“Thats wonderful, but when the right person comes across, you’ll know to trust them. I also want to fall in love with someone who loves me back, and didn’t just settle for me because they couldnt get someone else, you know? My dad chose himself over me, my mom chose my dads best friend instead of me and my dad, so i want someone to choose me first instead of something or someone else.”

“That’s very understandable Lady Aricia. I am very certain that there is a person out there so will choose you, no matter what. And I really hope you will find this person very soon”, I smile lightly, hoping for the best. Her genuine smile making it worth it, letting her into my heart so soon. “Thanks Ruby. You too!”

“Shall we go back? It’s getting a bit chilly out here.”

The warmth of the room hits my chilly back, loud music still floating the room, as I make my way to the generous buffet, filling up my empty stomach again with promising liquor. The world starts spinning again, and dizziness is clouding my head as I gulp down one pain killer after another, trying to cool that burning flesh of mine. Be bold, Sera’s forceful voice halls through my chaotic head, as I spin trough the dance floor from guard to guard presenting each one the same simple smile, nothing more. I behold his handsome face on the side, as he tries to vanish in the distance from his own celebration. With alcohol injected confidence I stumble towards him, trying to regain my composure. Nervously awaiting to see his beautiful face again, being surrounded by his heavy scent.

“Are you having a good evening your hotness?”, I ask delightful, trying not to giggle over my own choice of words. He simply turns around and raises an eyebrow, scanning my messy figure. “Are you feeling okay, Ruby?”

“I am felling better than ever”, I state before taking another sip from that sinful liquid. His eyes darken at my comment, making his face look much more harder and edged. “Not another”, he comments with a groan. “Stop complaining and just dance with me”, I desperately try to lighten the mood, not reacting to his comment. I simply drag him across the dancefloor, waiting for him to get into position while closely watching the loud and messy crowd. The heavy classical music is calming me down, relaxing my stiff muscles and enlightens my mood. He carefully takes my hand, leading the way as I adapt to his way of movement, flowing with the music. My feet are dancing on their own, walking on clouds as I float trough the night sky. Everything is forgotten, just the music, (…) and him. “So where did you learn how to dance that well mister?”, I ask with a light chuckle.“I’ve had teachers coaching me since I was little. To prepare me for balls and stuff like this.”

“So you got a long history of dancing, nice”, I twirl around letting my dress flow in the air, flattering my slim body even more, “Assuming you only learned formal dances, would you try out any other type or are you not really fond of dancing at all?” His attention drifts away, watching the people behind me: “Not really fond of it. I just do it when I have to. Like now.” I puff a bit, releasing sickly sweet air, as I roll my eyes at his lack of enthusiasm: “You could at least pretend to enjoy it, for your own sake.”

“I’m just worried you’re about to pass out at any second, or throw up on my shoes. I know what too many of these drinks can do to a person”, his eyes now focus on me and my sickly drunk figure. “Don’t worry, if I have to puke I will try not to ruin your expensive shoes, my Highness”, I try to lighten the mood with a soft giggle of mine which passes my slightly open lips. “Still, I think you’d better rest before you say something you’ll regret later”, he states, worry is gracing his features, still searching for something which isn’t me. “Ohh no, but I wanted to tell you secret of mine.” Ruby, you are drunk. Stop it. “Ooh, definitely not. Lets wait for that for when you’re sober”, his hand rests with a gentle touch on my waist as he leads me to an empty chair near the golden gate to the gardens. The wings are slightly open and fresh wind is slowly replacing the warm and stuffy air inside, carrying the sweetly calming scents of the colourful blooming flowers from the garden. “Buuttt -”, I start to argue with my last bit of liquid confidence, slumping down onto the selected chair, “I need someone to share the fun with Kat and I had last night. Gosh the people in Angeles are so nice.” His eyes dart away, focusing on someone else.

“Ok. Here’s some water. Don’t die. I have to go now, okay?” His soft voice consumes my mind, combining with the alcohol still flowing through my blood, making me feel numb inside. “Don’t leave me! I even wanted to show you the tattoo I’ve got last night -”, I start, not even bothering to end the sentence, letting it die in the cold night sky. “Oh, please tell me you’re joking. Whatever. I don’t have time for this right now.” He just walks away, his body finally relaxing. His soft voice in contrast to his actions. The water in my cup is shaking, slowly creating small waves, trapped in a never ending movement. “My tattoo is way too cool for him anyway…”

[saintedfury]

tagged by @thirdstreetsam

BASICS.

FULL NAME : Soledad Amaranta Guerrero ALIAS : Boss, Jefaza, Furia, Sol AGE : 38 (as of this moment in Bossville) BIRTHDAY : August 8th ETHNIC GROUP : Latinx NATIONALITY : American LANGUAGE / S : English and Spanish, a bit of Russian SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Pansexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Polygamous RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Currently in an open relationship with Eli Mitchell. Recently lost a long time lover, Troy Bradshaw, and even more recently mutually ended a relationship with Johnny CLASS : Working Class (No matter the size of her ‘bank account’ Furia is who she has always been. A Latina from Mission Beach and worked her ass off every day of her life--legitimately and not. HOME TOWN / AREA : Stilwater born and raised CURRENT HOME : Currently she only has a residence on Zin, her Bossville residence deteriorated and has not been restored. Though Eli has offered for her to come to the New Earth settlement in his dimension. PROFESSION : Racer, boost, gang leader, galactic emperor, formerly POTUS

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : Jet Black, wavy and usually worn down. It’s currently regrown out to about her shoulders. EYES : Hazel, rimmed in green, with long lashes and a strong swooping brow NOSE : straight and defined, not quite buttonish, but rather unremarkable FACE : Triangular to Square, she has prominent cheekbones, a squarish jaw with a strong chin. LIPS : Average, but on the fuller side. Always painted in a blood red, which is really smudge-resistent. Though she’s not adverse to occasionally intentionally wearing a less kiss-proof version of the shade. COMPLEXION : Using this reference, her tone ranges from tawny to terra cotta, leaning toward the brown-red. BLEMISHES : She has the occasional dark freckle on her arms and back, but not many. SCARS : There are several across her knuckles. On her torso there are thin scars, both smooth and jagged, from gunshots and knife wounds. She’s got one that nearly traces her collar bone, but is really only noticeable when she has a tan--it goes silvery and almost seems to take on a ghastly glow. Most of them have faded by now. TATTOOS : A large ornate Fleur de lis on her right shoulderblade, a TS on her left hand, a chaos symbol at the top of her spine at her hairline, a fiery lion on her hip. A lovely ornate peacock has joined the mix, along with a wolf  on her lower back. There is a small four leaf clover in black and white on her right ankle and a clever spider crawling across the inside of her right wrist.  HEIGHT : 5′9″ WEIGHT : 132 lbs BUILD : Trim, defined but not toned. She has a dancer’s body. FEATURES : Long legs, ruby red lips, and a thick curtain of wavy ink black hair ALLERGIES : Bullshit USUAL HAIR STYLE : Long and loose, showing off her natural waves, which get curlier the shorter her hair is. USUAL FACE LOOK : Usually she has a welcoming look. Thankfully, she doesn’t suffer from resting bitch face, but that sultry pout gets her in trouble from time to time. USUAL CLOTHING : Furia is usually dressed quite posh. She even makes sloopy jeans and a t-shirt look dressy. She keeps her appearance up to a certain rather refined scale complete with stylish heels and boots, though of late she’s been veering back into baggy jeans, clunky work boots in purple, baggy hoodies, and bandanas (mainly for when she goes ‘writing’).

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Open water, boats, losing people she cares about, being the cause of the loss of those she cares about (either death or estrangement) ASPIRATION / S : Stealing every moment of happiness she can from the darkness of the world, as well as guiding the empire to autonomy. She’s rather hoping to steal a large chunk of time in the next four years to bask in the time Eli has left. POSITIVE TRAITS : Loyal, protective, playful NEGATIVE TRAITS : Can be incredibly self-destructive MBTI : ENFJ ZODIAC : Leo TEMPERAMENT : Sanguine SOUL TYPE / S : The Warrior, with a side of the Nurturer (x) ANIMALS : Lions, big cats, house cats VICE HABIT / S : Fighting (she’ll go to fight clubs, start brawls), alcohol, sex FAITH : None GHOSTS? : Yes, she’s felt haunted her entire life AFTERLIFE? : No. (Though she wants to hope that there is one, if only for the people she’s lost, and because of Eli’s threat to come back and see her after he’s gone.) REINCARNATION? : No. (She sees Talon as a special case. It’s not something available to normal people.) ALIENS? : Of course! POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : Rather a mix of egalitarian and socialist ideals ECONOMIC PREFERENCE : She is struggling to keep the empire in barter system, there are forces seeking to monetize the economy. SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION : She believes in the idea that equality is the trait that will allow the people of her empire the freedom to pursue liberty and happiness. EDUCATION LEVEL : Finished high school. Nearly completed her associate’s in accounting.

FAMILY.

FATHER : Martín Guerrero MOTHER : Angela Guerrero SIBLINGS : Memo, Maximo, Enrique & Emilio, Socorro, Gabriel EXTENDED FAMILY : Several aunts and uncles NAME MEANING / S : Soledad means solitude. After losing her parents and grandparents, she feared that her name might signify her fate. That thought still haunts her from time to time, especially lately with Troy’s death and her estrangement with Johnny. Amaranta means unfading, and Guerrero means warrior. HISTORICAL CONNECTION? : Only in Stilwater, her grandfather (Yayo) Alejandro ran a black market smuggling ring out of the Stilwater docks. He was careful and successful enough to remain unknown to officials in the city.

FAVOURITES.

BOOK : Persuasion by Jane Austen, maybe tied with Fantomina by Eliza Haywood MOVIE : Probably the Fast and the Furious movies--cars, races, chases, explosions, and fights. Hard to beat, or so she tells me. 5 SONGS :  Alpha Female by Wild Beasts, Raise Hell by Dorothy, A Little Wicked by Valerie Broussard, Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira, Bad Influence by P!nk DEITY : God, though the two had a falling out years ago, she chooses not to believe in him HOLIDAY : New Year’s & Mardi Gras MONTH : March, because it’s usually quite rainy SEASON : Winter PLACE : Anywhere, as long as she’s there with someone she loves WEATHER : Rainy or sunny SOUND : The powerful rumble of well-built engine SCENT / S :  Spices, smoke TASTE / S : Caramel, spices, chiles, smoked meats and veggies,  . FEEL / S : Lace, silk, denim, skin. ANIMAL / S : Lions, specifically lionesses NUMBER : 8 COLOUR : Black, white, purple, lavender.

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Cooking and baking, drawing and ‘writing’, dancing, picking locks, driving, boosting cars BAD AT : Pistol accuracy, dealing with her own failures (particularly when she feels she’s failed the people closest to her), placing herself before the people she loves,  TURN ONS : Confidence, fun loving nature, adventurousness, loyalty TURN OFFS : Lack of a sense of humor, taking oneself too seriously, lying/dishonesty HOBBIES : Dancing, graffiti, drawing, cooking (though not as much now that she doesn’t have a place in Bossville). TROPES : Lovable Rogue, Tomboy & Girly Girl (Though she fits both roles in her timeline), Sugar & Ice Personality (though few have witnessed her icy side) AESTHETIC TAGS : #Araña, #Seda y Encaje, #Dulce y Picante, #Veloz GPOY QUOTES :  “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist.” -Oscar Wilde | “One day, you will wake up and there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted. Do it now.” -Paulo Coelho | “Never waste a moment, it may be the last with someone you love.”

FC INFO.

MAIN FC / S : Natalie Danish & herself ALT FC / S : I don’t know her name but the woman who is in the avatar square when posts from this blog show in the dashboard. OLDER FC / S : Haven’t really given it much thought. To be honest, I’m not sure she’ll make it to fifty or much past.  YOUNGER FC / S : Again, I’ve posted a pic or two here and there, but of nameless folks. VOICE CLAIM / S : Rebecca Sanabria (the Latina VO actress from SR 2) Though Furia’s got a thicker accent than most, she never wanted or tried to lose it. Honestly, when I hear her voice in my head I hear deeper Latina voices like Sofia Vergara, Salma Hayek, and Maria Conchita Alonzo. GENDERBENT FC / S : Jason Momoa (who is also the FC for her brother Memo, they look very much alike).

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ?

A1 : It would be some over dramatic mix of action and romance probably. There would probably be a lot of cars and skimpy lingerie. It’d likely have some corny name like Silk & Steel, or something foolish.

Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ?

A2 : It would be a mix of things you can dance to.

Q3 : why did you start writing this character ?

A3 : I actually created Furia for a smut one shot. She was supposed to be a one trick pony and this happened.

Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ?

A4: She’s just this mix of serious and playful. It’s really her imperfections and faults that I enjoy the most.

Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : Oh, she can be quiet moody and self-destructive.

Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ?

A6 : A love of music and caramel. And we’re both good cooks.

Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ?

A7 : She thinks I really need to get out more 

Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?

A8 : All of them! Really! Whether it’s something playful or character building. The interactions with everyone are always fun, and even the most innocent, calm, superficial interactions and draw out some of her history and pieces of her personality. Honestly, her interactions with other muses and characters has allowed me to develop Furia much more fully over the last several years.

Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ?

A9 : Music, movies, prompts, RP, talking to other muns, reading, driving. And for some reason when I fall asleep, she tends to pop into my head some nights. It kills me because I always end up sitting up 5 or 6 times to jot down some idea that came to me as I was falling asleep.

Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ?

A10 : A few hours give or take.

Tagging @nightmareon3rdst, @thirdstreetshackles, @demonsaint, and anyone else who would like to participate as well. I just think most of the folks who I’d usually tag were either already tagged, tagged me, or completed it beforehand.