#thank you <33 sometimes i just feel like my writing falls so flat. like it just feels boring? also hell yeah tumblr live is dead!! :D | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

faegoddessog · 1 year ago

Text

Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 33/41

Chapter 33: Overwhelm in the Stars

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, fellatio, fingering, forced orgasm, unprotected PiV( play safy ya'll )

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes involved here.

Chapter 33: Overwhelm in the Stars

Special thanks to @purejasmine who partially inspired the action in this Chapter!

April turns into May and temperatures start to drop. Which you find bizarre being from the northern hemisphere. But as long as you don’t think about the month, the fall is quite lovely and mild. Restrictions ease, Austin takes to walking the beach, listening to Elvis in his headphones. Sometimes you go with him, holding hands on the relatively deserted beaches. You like to find a spot to paint or read while he wanders for a couple hours. It always makes you giggle to see people’s reaction to him when he is practicing Elvis’ words or sounds. The best one by far was Elvis’ laughter. He was on his way back to you, laughing, stopping, listening, laughing again. As you watched, one guy with a surfboard walked by him, then turned around and gave him the funniest look. You just cracked up, Austin barely noticed at the time, but turned red when you told him about it.

Even though the situation is a bit scary and tedious at times, it has been kind of magical to have Austin all to yourself. Well, you share him with Elvis, but that doesn’t really bother you. Honestly it’s good that he has something to focus on.

You begin to email and text with Rita about her kitchen in Greece, getting roughly sketched floor plans and pictures and researching potential materials and construction regulations for the area. You enjoy planning and sketching all old school with graph paper, cuz you got nuthin’ but time!

June rolls in and, like the rest of the world, you are starting to get restless with the sameness of every day. He still wakes up early, still asks to slide into you often. Sex has been nice, but routine.

He comes out of his office room early one afternoon and firmly shuts the door.

“Kitten, I need a break.” he says seriously, knife-handing for emphasis.

You look up at him from the couch where you are reading a book with big eyes. Does he mean from you? from Elvis? What did you do? What did you not do? What is happening? Your heart is beating in your ears. Why the fuck are you reacting this way?

“I uh… Oh… Okay,” your voice stammers, frightened. Be cool, you said no hard feelings, shit, shit, shit.

“Don’t let me go in that room for like a week,” he says, rubbing his eyes, head down. He has not noticed your panicked reaction.

You feel like a deer in headlights, it takes a few seconds to understand what he said.

He blinks down at you, probably expecting some kind of reaction.

“OH!” you let out a shuddering breath you didn’t realize you were holding, hand partially covering your face, “I thought…. ” your voice sounds so small.

He looks at you in confusion, then realization dawns on his face.

“Oh baby no! Shit I’m sorry hunny! Not from you, not from us, from Elvis!” He closes the gap between you in two long strides, sitting down next to you and pulling you close to him. Tears you didn’t know were holding in spill out.

“I don't want to do this without you, baby,” he strokes your hair as you bury your face in his chest. ”No, no we are good…. Are we good?” he asks, suddenly looking down into his chest at you.

“Stupid inadequacy issues,” you puff out, shaking your head. You look up at his concerned face, with tear streaked cheeks and sniff.

“Oh Kitten, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. That’s what I mean, I’ve not been thinking about anything other than Elvis for too long. And you’ve been amazing and I’ve just been obsessed. That’s what I need a break from,” his words tumble out, trying to reassure you. His thumb wipes away your tears, he kisses your forehead.

You take a big breath in, blowing it out, nodding your head. Apparently, you hadn't realized how deeply intertwined you two have become, when just the passing idea of him leaving brings you to tears. You are more upset that it affected you like this than you are about the misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I immediately jumped to that conclusion. This whole lockdown thing has me all….” you stick your tongue out to the side and roll your eyes. You look in each other's eyes for the space of two heartbeats. You start sniggering at your own ridiculousness, holding your hand over your mouth. He chuckles and shakes his head, holding you to his chest.

“Oh Kitten, I love you. I feel like I’ve been neglecting you and you’ve been so patient and caring,” he says, “and don’t tell me I’ve not been, cuz it’s how I feel. ”

“Ok,” you say simply.

“I wish I could take you out on a date, or lavish you with gifts or do something big for you right now,” he laments, his fingers rubbing on your forearm.

“Austin, gifts and dates and grand gestures are nice,” you assure him, “but I don’t need them. What I really could use is just some you right now, plain and simple.”

“You got it, Kitten,” he says, tilting your chin up to his mouth. His kiss is sweet and simple and present. You melt into him.

You sit, cuddled up on him for a bit, he is rubbing in long strokes up and down your back.

“How about we get out of here tonight,” he says.

“Ok, where though?” you ponder.

“Let’s pack some food and bring blankets and stuff and just drive until we can see the stars, we just can’t cross the border,” he suggests.

“Yes! I fucking love the stars! Let’s do it!” you sit up, excited for the first time in weeks, and throw your arms around his neck, kissing him hard.

Austin makes PBJ’s and packs some random food into a cooler. You gather pillows and blankets, toothbrushes and a quick change of clothes for both of you. You come out from the 2nd bedroom triumphantly holding a big thermos up high. Austin is filling water bottles and you start heating water to make some hot chocolate. The excitement in the air is palpable.

Thirty minutes later you are pulling out from the underground garage, Austin sitting in the seat next to you for the first time, instead of hiding. Who the fuck cares now anyway, plus no one is hanging around outside anymore anyway.

You insist on using your own non-Elvis playlists for music, Austin agrees, he really does need the break.

You drive west for almost two hours. It is marvelous and freeing to get away. No plan, just driving.

The sun is getting low as you pull up to a picnic area next to Lake Moogerah that is scattered with pavilions. You find one next to the lake and cuddle together on the picnic table, munching on PBJ’s and watching the sunset. You hear some crunching on the gravel behind you. You turn around to see a lady walking her dog towards you.

“G’day, beaut of a sunset yeah?” she says, stopping about 10 feet from you guys.

“Yeah it really is” Austin says.

“Oh yanks are ya, well ya know ya can't park overnight here. Do ya have a place to stay?" she inquires.

"Oh, no we didn’t know, thank you,” Austin is always so polite, ”we might just drive back to the city later, unless you have any suggestions.”

“I have a glampin’ tent just up the road there that’s vacant. It has a heatah and access to the bathroom in the main house, has a queen bed and a minibah. We just got the go ahead to open today. So it’s yours if you want it.”

Austin looks at you eyebrows raised. You are already nodding.

“We’ll be up after sunset then,” he says. She gives you directions and says she’ll meet you there in a half hour.

The tent is amazing. It’s set up just in front of a huge Queenslander rental house, which is where your bathroom is. It opens up to a gorgeous view of the lake and mountains. It is much larger than you expected, clean, warm and comfortable. It has a stocked snack and mini fridge bar and a coffee maker. There are little fairy lights hung inside for soft lighting. There is no one renting the main house tonight, so you can make it really dark for stargazing.

It’s not that cold out, just a chill in the air. Your sweatshirt would suffice, the blankets are just to make it cozier. Austin pulls out the hot chocolate and you snuggle up with your blankets and pillows to watch the stars, sipping the sweet hot liquid.

It’s so odd, because you grew up stargazing with your family, and these are definitely not your stars. You feel like you are on another planet. You open your phone app that helps you find constellations. It is magical, just being together under the stars, feeling so small in the universe, yet also expansive.

You are nerding out, finding several of the southern constellations including the southern cross and Canis major. Trying to point them out to Austin.

“Why does that one look so damn familiar?” you are pointing up. You hold up the phone above your head

“I’m a goofy silly girl! It’s fucking Orion, just upside down! My daddy always said heaven was in the middle star of his belt, see?” you point up then look over at Austin. He is just staring at you with soft eyes in the red glow of the phone.

“I think it’s closer than that,” he says to you.

Your heart swells, then melts.

Like the opposite poles of a magnet your lips are drawn together. Your leg swings up and over his body, bringing your blankets with you. Straddling him on his chair, kissing, hips pressed together. For a few minutes you are just teenagers making out, dry humping on the porch because your parents won’t let you be alone inside. You can feel his bulge through the double layers of jeans.

He pushes you away just a little and reaches down to readjust his hardening cock. The nice thing is, you are not teenagers and no one is trying to restrict your access to this gorgeous man and his willingness to fuck the daylights out of you.

“Why don’t you get that out for me,” you whisper in his ear.

You duck down, between his legs, as he undoes his fly and pulls himself out, lowering his pants down his hips just a little.

While he is doing that, you undo your own jeans under the blankets and manage to wiggle out of them, leaving your soft, stretchy undies on.

Holding him upright, you trace designs with your tongue on his shaft and up to his tip. You lick your lips under the dark blanket. Placing your tongue on the top, you use your lips to massage his tip. Retracting your tongue into your mouth and closing your lips around him, then dragging along his head as you push him out with your tongue. Saliva drips from your lower lip every time you push him out. You hear him groaning on the outside of the covers. You push him in deep, slurping up all the spit you dribbled along his shaft. You ride him with your mouth for a dozen strokes or so.

Then you emerge from under the blankets, kissing him with your wet sloppy mouth. You straddle him again, just below his now hard and exposed cock. His hands land on your bare thighs.

“When did that happen?” he asks, indicating your pants-less state.

“When you were distracted,” you smile.

“Well you are distracting,” he rubs you through the crotch of your panties, soaking your wetness through. He slips his fingers under the fabric, then pulls it aside, dipping his fingers into you.

“Mmmmmmm” a slow lazy moan falls from you.

“Oh Kitten, I’m so sorry I've been neglecting you. I’m gonna make it up to you, promise,” he says, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Austin, you don’t…” you start, but he interrupts you with a kiss and his fingers running circles around your pussy. Fore and middle fingers around your opening, pinky and ring fingers brushing your clit.

It shuts you right up because it feels amazing. Your hips drop forward toward his hand.

“Oh mon Roi, that feels good,” you murmur into his mouth.

His other hand drifts up your shirt and around your back, undoing your bra deftly. His cool fingers trace around to the front. You gasp through your nose since he was still occupying your mouth with his tongue. He rubs along the line where your bra was tight, heightening the sensations that much more. He massages your breast, nipple caught in the crux of his fingers, sending a needle like zing to your core. Still his other hand is steadily working your pussy. The familiar warm glow is building just behind your mons. You lift up, reaching for his cock to slide him into you. He sits up a bit, pulling his hips and mouth away from you.

“Oh no, baby, this is just about you right now,” he says, “look up when you’re close, Kitten, I want you to cum in the stars.”

Damn, how is it that he makes things that could be corny, sound so damn sexy.

“Keep talking Austin, tell me dirty things,” you moan. Your hands are on his shoulders, holding on. You realize there is more light now, the moon is beginning to light up the sky, threatening to rise over the mountains.

“God, I love seeing you worked up just from my fingers playing with your cunt,” his deep voice draws out that last, filthy word, enunciating the /t/.

“I love your long gorgeous fingers,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah? Do you want them inside you?” he almost whispers.

“Uh huh,’ you bite your lip, nodding.

“You want t’ cum on them?” he asks low, licking his lips.

“Please, yes,” you would do anything to have him inside you right now.

He starts pulsing the two fingers at your slit, but not going in. It’s driving you crazy. You try to grind yourself onto them with a closed-mouth pouting moan, but he won’t let you.

“Ah ah ah, baby. Just wait,” he admonishes you.

Pulling his fingers away and bringing them up to his mouth, he licks a long line between his fingers. You watch him like you are lost in the desert and he is the only water. You find yourself diving forward as his tongue reaches his fingertips. You press your open mouth partially to his upper lip, partially to his fingers, your tongues meet and play between his two digits, tasting of your slick. His fingers slide away and you keep kissing him, your hands on his face. You feel him sliding under your panties and along your labia again, wet from both your tongues.

He resumes his pulsing against your opening, still refusing to enter you.

He is pinching your other nipple, mimicking his pulses at the same rate.

You pull away from his face, head tilted up in a pouting whine to the sky. You are trying to be patient, trying to wait, but your body wants him inside you. Your hips rock back and forth, desperate for penetration.

“Oh Kitten, so wanton, wanting me inside you any way you can get me,” he chides, still pulsing at your entrance, “and I want you too, my gorgeous little hussy,” the last he breathes into the night air.

Finally, his pulses start sinking into you, a little further with each one.

“Oh- my- fucking- god,” your voice is rough and breathy with each pulse inside you. You are staring into his eyes.

“Yes, I am your fucking god,” he slides his hand out from under your shirt and to his mouth. His eyes burning sexy, maddening holes into yours in the diffused moonlight. A hint of that dark fae around his edges.

Sticking out his tongue, he slides the pad of his thumb over it. Watching you intently, he slips his wet thumb under your panties and onto your clit with a little roguish smile. He knows how it will affect you.

“Oh god, yes, right there,” your hips are shaking under his ministrations.

His fingers are fully seated inside you now, pulsing still, thumb rubbing in little circles.

“Don’t stop,” you moan.

“Oh, I won’t,” his tone is that of promise and threat.

Moonlight spills over the top of the mountains. Silvery strands of light laying themselves upon you both.

“Your naked skin would look so amazing in the moonlight,” Austin remarks, mostly to himself.

Without a second thought, you pull your sweatshirt and shirt off over your head, your bra tangled in amongst the fabric.

“Oh baby, you’ll get cold,” he says, concerned.

“Then you better keep me w–w-w-w-arm,” you moan out as his fingers find a particularly perfect rhythm. The glow inside you is on the verge of spilling over. You lean back, your hands on his knees, head tilted up. The blankets fall back, the cool night air makes your nipples pucker and your skin pebble. But you barely notice the chill, Austin has you so hot.

“Holy Mother, you are shining, baby,” he breathes.

You move rhythmically, grinding into his hands.

“The light on your throat, on your tits. It’s like the moon herself is cumming on you,” he says.

Fuck, that is a thought you’ve never had. Hot, especially from Austin’s dirty, sexy mouth.

Each push forward into his hand is accentuated with a moaning “ah, ah, ‘ah.” Then you inhale in a gasping breath, holding it in as everything tightens, your hips vibrating against him.

“Fuck yeah Kitten, cum on my lap, cum in those stars,” he urges you on.

It starts deep in your seed center and waves up your spine in a rippling shudder. Even your eyelids shiver as you struggle to keep your eyes open and pointed up. When you finally exhale, it’s in waves. You barely make any other sound to the sky.

You jerk forward, hunched over Austin, hands on his shoulders, pulling your hips away.

“Oh no you don’t dirty girl,” he says. His hands are on your hips, pulling you back to him, “you aren't getting away from me.”

He straightens upright in order to wrap one arm around your low back, hand pressing to keep you close to him. Austin immediately takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking with his tongue. His other hand is fliplped over, palm down, between you. The backs of his first and middle fingers like snake fangs pointing down on either side of your clit. The tips of those long fingers falling against your inner labia. The sensations go deep as he pushes in and down, in and down, milking your clit. It’s such a small movement with such a big impact.

You rut into his bent knuckles, clenching and releasing your glutes, your thighs, your pelvic floor. Your eyes are squeezed tight, head bowed to his.

“Open those eyes, look up,” he says, switching to the other nipple.

You tilt back, supported by his hand on your back. You do your best to open your eyes. But as his mouth pulls hard at your nipple, you are lifted, tilted over the next edge.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” you chant. Your eyes close and you are jerking to get your sensitive clit away from his knuckles. Of course, he won’t let you get away. He is always so much stronger than you assume. Holding your hips tight, his hand flips over and rubs light and fast over the surface of your clit. You writhe.

“Oh no, baby, you are gonna keep cumming,” he asserts, unable to keep his mouth on your twitching tits.

He refuses to give you any reprieve. He buries his fingers inside you again, pummeling your pussy with his palm. The switch in sensation is like an upslope that lifts you higher. You freeze, still for a long moment. Holding your breath, you let him finger fuck you hard. Sloppy, wet slapping sounds are the only thing breaking the night's stillness.

You didn’t think you could clamp down any harder, but as everything funnels down to your core, you tighten around his fingers. Your back arches and a high pitched whine careens from your throat. Your pelvis grinds down onto his fingers as your voice modulates low “OH! Fuck me, YES!” His hand drips with your juices.

Austin just chuckles low. “Not yet, Kitten,” he is watching your face as you cum with each dig of your hips.

Your hips come to a full and complete stop as does his fingers. Your ragged breath barely begins to even out. You lean down, hands on either side of his face and softly kiss him.

“Mmm, that was good, baby,” you murmur into his mouth. His hands disengage from your crotch.

He guides you off him, “Turn around,” he says, having made a decision.

You stand up wobbly, blankets and all. Austin takes the opportunity to pull off his jeans and underwear. You are expecting a good hard fuck in the grass as he reaches up and yanks your panties off. But he pulls your hips down to sit between his legs on the chair instead. The blankets spread over you both.

“Lean back and spread your legs, beautiful,” his voice is low and gravely in your ear.

You are not sure how he is going to get off in this position, his cock would be trapped behind your back, not in you.

‘Austin, I’m, I’m done, I’m good, what about you?” you say, turning a little to look at him and reaching for his cock.

“Oh hoh Kitten,” he laughs deviously, his gaze locking onto yours, “ I’m not done with you , I think I owe you a little more,” he pulls you back against him.

“Oh baby, you don’t-” you start trying to assure him once again, but his hand comes under your jaw. Thumb and forefinger spread, pressing just in front of the joint on either side, the rest of his fingers digging into the side of your neck. You gasp, hand going instinctively to his wrist. It’s the closest he’s ever come to choking you, although there is no pressure on your throat. You are immediately putty in his hands.

“Shhhh, Kitten, my darlin’,” he purrs in your ear, “you still haven’t cum in the stars for me. So you are going to take it, and like it and beg me for more until you can’t handle it.”

Your breath comes out in a shudder as your pussy drips. God, his voice, his words, his hands, how is this man possible? You didn’t know that was what you were in for tonight, but you fucking love it.

“Now, spread your legs,“ he says pointedly.

You do, looping your legs over his in the chair. Your wet pussy lips peeling apart under the blanket.

Austin reaches down and starts moving against your already swollen, sensitive snatch.

“There’s my good girl,” he whispers in your ear.

His fingers move in soft circles around your clit. You moan, eyes closing.

“You like it when I play with this pussy, don’t you Kitten,” his voice like honey, dripping onto your neck.

“Oui, mon Roi,” you answer in French.

“Should I have fingered you in the car on the way here?” honey dripping in between your breasts.

“Uh huh,” your other arm reaches up, your hand curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh this pussy is so wet, always so needy,” his fingertips push harder.

“All the time, always for you, mon Roi,” you moan.

“God damn, you make me want you so much,” his hips are pushing against you.

You are flushing with heat, you kick the blankets away, the cool air tingling on your wetness.

“Oh, such a naughty Kitten, you want to be exposed?” his breath hot on your neck, ”anyone could walk around the house and see me fingering you, watch me make you thrash. You would love that, wouldn't you.”

Oh fuck, you didn’t know you had a an exhibitionist kink until this moment. The idea of being watched kicks you up a notch.

“I would,” you moan, nodding.

“What if it was Loki,” he plays to your fantasies, “and I hold your legs open,” he wraps his legs on top of yours, holding them apart, “and let him fuck you, use you,” he disentangles your hand from his hair and pushes your own fingers into your cunt, “just like this, while I rubbed you the way I know you like it.”

Oh. My. God. The idea of a hot Tom Hiddleston with dark hair mercilessly sinking himself into you as Austin holds you. FUCK, that takes you to a whole other level.

“OH Fuck Austin… yes. Yes, YES!!!!” you are crying out, fucking yourself with your own fingers.

You are pushing back against him. His hand tightens on your jaw, holding your head tilted back against his shoulder as he works your clit. His cock, desperate for friction, is working between you, spreading his pre-cum on your low spine.

FUCK YES, It feels so fucking good, being held down by him, being so open to the sky, to the silky moonlight.

You skyrocket into the stars, your eyes shoot open and you are staring at Sirius, the dogstar. For long held seconds you are Sirius, with rays of light shining from your head as you ignite, lighting up the night.

“There she is, my shining girl in the stars,” he is humming in your ear. Jerking, you stop your barrage into yourself. Austin’s hand covers your pussy, pressing softly, soothingly, drops of your cum cooling on your inner thighs.

You get a long breath or two, shaking as you start to think about coming down.

“Thank you Austin,” you say breathily.

“Oh no, don’t thank me yet,” he growls in your ear. Your orgasm-addled brain is confused. Until Austin slaps your pussy, jolting you back to him. It’s not super hard, but it makes you jerk.

“I’m still not done,“

Slap

“Oh, I don’t know if-” you begin.

SLAP!

You gasp.

“What a filthy, naughty girl, to be so turned on by someone else’s cock,” his voice is not angry, but husky with desire.

“I think you like the idea too,” you risk, undulating against his cock, “it’s pretty wet back there.”

Austin’s gruff laugh puffs out with a shake of his head.

“Maybe, as long as I get to reclaim you as mine,” his fingers tighten on your jaw and neck for a long, pointed moment before releasing entirely to slide down to your breasts. His last word rumbles into your brain, sending shivers down your spine

“I’m yours, Austin, all yours,” your voice is light, airy, full of yearning.

“Mmhmmm, yes you are,” he kisses your cheek tenderly.

“Now, tell me you want more,” Slap

“OH,” you squeak and jump. You hadn’t expected it.

“Say it,” he demands. Slap

“Oh- I,” you aren’t sure if you can go more. ‘ Yes you can, you want it and you know it.” your demon says.

“Tell me,” he says through gritted teeth. SLAP

“I want more,” you squeal a little on the last word.

“Say my name.” SLAP

You don’t quite register that this is your out, should you need it until you are saying:

“I want more Austin.” Fuck yeah you do. That bitch.

“What do you want, Kitten?” he prompts you. SLAP

“Spank my pussy ‘till I cum again,” your succubus answers for you before you can think. Oh shit, that was your outside voice.

“Oh, my filthy little insatiable harlot,” SLAP. His voice is full of unmet desire, you know he is just as turned on as you are. His hard cock is throbbing behind your back.

He starts in on your mons, stinging slaps then rubbing your clit fast side to side. The combo is unhinging you.

“Holy shit Kitten, you’ve got me so,” SLAP, “fucking,” SLAP, “hot.“ SLAP. Each stinging smack a little harder than the last. Clearly it’s unhinging him as well.

Flicking light and fast over your swollen nub he growls in your ear “I’m going to fuck you so hard after this, you won’t have to open your eyes to see the stars.” SLAP. SLAP.

You meet each new sting with a gasping moan.

His hips are rutting against your back. You wish he was inside of you.

“Please fuck me Austin, I need your cock,” you whine and moan.

“Oh Hunny, cum for me and I will,” his voice vibrates against your back and into your brainstem. How is he so fucking good? With each flick, each smack, you vacillate between being hungry for more and wanting him to stop.

Immense pressure is building behind your clit with every contact of his hand. You are forced over the brink yet again. You cinch down onto nothing. Every muscle straining You curl and try to close your legs, writhing. But his legs are forcing you to stay open. He continues the actual onslaught of your pussy. SLAP. Rub. SLAP. Flick. SLAP. Rub.

It’s too much, and not enough all at once.

“Nononono,” you are trying to pull his hands away from you, to protect your poor, wanting pussy. He grabs your hands and holds them tight to your belly and keeps rubbing and spanking you. You are struggling against him in the most delicious way.

“Beg me,” he growls in your ear.

“Please, please, stop, Austin, stop,” you whimper weakly.

“I don't think you really mean it,” his chuckle is deep in this chest. He slaps you again, and again, and again. Then his long fingers plunge into your dripping slit, stirring at your g spot. It pitches you into a spiral. Dangling over the chasm in his grip.

You are keening; cumming. You are biting into the meaty part of your own thumb; cumming. You are dripping around his fingers onto the chair; cumming. Cumming so hard, you are bewildered, disoriented and also laser focused on his fingers rasping against you again and again and again. You thought you were cumming before, it’s nothing compared to this. This is celestial devilry made carnal. Only the gods orgasm like this. You feel as much as hear your sweet fluid squirt out of you.

“Please, I can’t, again” you beg, sobbing.

He ignores your plea, raking his hands from back to front in succession along your pussy, fingers digging into your slit as he drags them up, grasping and shaking your mons and clit in his palm at the top. Right. Left. Right. Left. Over and over again, triggering immense aftershocks. Your spine is undulating in time with his raking of you. Your screaming moans modulate with the motion of his hands.

With a final grip and shake on your vulva, he stops. You are still shaking.

“Oh lord baby I need to be in you,” he presses you forward, up and off his lap. You are unable to stand, fuzzy. You ooze onto the blankets that fell on the grass, lying on your back. He is on you in seconds, knees between your legs. You are brought back to sharp focus by his cock sliding into your buzzing pussy.

“Oh my god Kitten, you are so hot around me,” Austin moans.

It is nirvana to be filled with him at last. You wrap your arms and legs around him as he thrusts in and out of you, banging the hell out of you under the night sky. He isn’t holding back, chasing his own release. He is right, you see the stars whether or not your eyes are open.

Holy fuck you’ve never been pushed this far in so many ways. Your tight, clenching pussy feels so full, so stretched by his cock pounding into you. Nerves that have been overstimulated are on the verge of rebelling. Fuck you want him never to stop, and if he doesn't stop you may never recover.

“Come on baby, one more big one for me,” the strain of his lust evident in his low gritty tone. It washes over you and you fracture. Your full throated scream echoes across the lake. You twist, and turn and thrash under him, your whole body contorting in inscrutable pleasure. No, pleasure isn’t right. It’s higher than that, harder, vehement. It rocks the foundations of what you believe to be true. Only the gods fuck like this.

“Ohmigod, my Kitten, fucking mine, all mine,” he underscores each thrust with a word. You are violently shaking under him as he surges into you, every muscle straining.

Finally all motion ceases, you are crying into his shoulder, clinging to him as a touchpoint of reality. You aren’t sure who you are or where you are, only that Austin is here, keeping you from dying.

He lifts off you. Standing. Leaving you in the cold momentarily. You curl around your core, crying in overwhelm. Then you are in his arms, floating. Crying into his shoulder. Being laid in a warm bed with his warm naked body protecting you. Holding you. Petting your head and rubbing your back. Whispering soft words of love. Pressing a water bottle to your mouth as your crying subsides into soft whimpers and then into shaky breaths.

“You are here my love, with me” Austin is saying,” just breathe. I got you.”

...........

You wake up in the morning to sounds of birds outside. Austin is asleep next to you, just where you like him to be. You sneak out to pee and take care of yourself, after last night's worship to Eros, you need a shower.

When you get back, Austin is still snoring. You climb back into bed and cuddle up next to him. You doze. You wake up to the smell of coffee and Austin, also freshly showered, bringing you a cup.

You sit up in bed and gratefully accept it. He sits down on the bed with you, sipping his own cup. He left the tent flap open and you can see across the lake. What a magnificent thing, to have that view while in bed, and this dreamboat of a man next to you. Bringing you coffee nonetheless! “Thank you for last night Austin,” you say, hands wrapped around the white steaming cup.

“You are so welcome, my love,” he says with a smile, obviously feeling like he has ‘made it up’ to you.

…............

As you are leaving, the owner is walking her dog along the road towards you. You stop and roll down the window to thank her for everything.

“I was comin’ to check on ya! Did ya hear that cougar screamin’ last night?” she says concerned, ”it sounded pretty close by.”

“Oh? I don’t think we did,” Austin says a little confused.

“Yeah,” she says, “a month or so ago, one was spotted a bit north of here, but have never heard it before. It were erie, echoed across the lake.”

“Oh, well we are ok, glad we didn’t see it!” you say.

You tell her thank you and that you’d leave a glowing review.

As you are driving away, Austin is shaking his head, “Wow, that is a little scary.”

You burst out laughing.

“What is so funny, we could’ve gotten attacked! Being just in that tent!”

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. That was no cougar she heard, it was me cumming last night. Cougars sound like a woman screaming.”

“No way, you think so?” Austin is smiling realizing the implications.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard them back home, I would have recognized it.

“Oh my god, that is funny!” Austin joins you in laughing.

#Austin Butler #Austin Butler smut #Austin Butler x reader #Austin Butler fic #Austin butler fanfic #@purejasmine #@slowsweetlove #@richardslady121

19 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 4 years ago

Note

hey!! congrats on 500!! could i get breakfast: ingredient 33 + sugar 7 for nanami kento? thanks!!

VIOLET

violet; a flower that symbolizes faith and affection — this was simply one of your promises to Nanami.

meal order: 🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) (no warnings, other than this fic is unedited.)

notes: thank you so much for joining the event and requesting! i honestly loved this idea so much, i still remember how happy i was when i first saw it and i looked forward to writing it. i hope this was what you were looking for! i may or may not have been too deep in the feels with this one. anyways, enjoy and thank you so much! breakfast has been served!

word count: 7k+

“Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

You looked up from under the golden roof, a small smile on your face. The sun shone down brightly, the calm, gentle air making the flowers in your royal garden dance side by the side, almost as if encouraged by the soft kiss of nature. In this lightning, all the colors popped out vibrantly, a wide array of splashes of life laid out before you. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Nanami, your bodyguard, followed your line of sight. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Stiff and straightforward as ever, you connoted with a hidden smile. “Perfect,” you announced, lifting your gloved hands in a beckoning gesture. “Come with me. I must inspect the garden. I heard from the staff last night that my new flowers have arrived. I shall see to it that it came in perfect condition,” Nanami nodded beside you and followed you as you trudged all the way out in broad daylight, your hair shining from the sun’s rays.

As if noticing the harsh glare of heat on your skin, Nanami was quick to open your parasol, standing at least a foot behind you. Trained to be obedient flawless in their duties, his footsteps were silent behind you, nothing but the tapping of your heels against the ground heard from the open space.

You were shielded from the heat, but you weren’t satisfied.

With a faux, distressed clicking of your tongue, you stopped in your tracks, whipping around to face your black-suit clad bodyguard. His gaze immediately fell down to your feet, back tilted in a perfect bow. You sighed, “Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Do you want to be fired?”

He froze at your words, momentarily looking up at you for a moment before turning to the ground again. “Of course not, Your Highness,” although monotonous, you could detect the slight tinge of worry in his voice, and you felt a smile crossing on your lips when you saw his brows furrow. “I extremely apologize if I’ve done something wrong. I must repent for it and assess my worth as your—”

“You’re not holding the parasol properly,” you cut him off and stepped forward, reaching to his extended arm and placing yourself right next to him until your shoulders were close enough to brush against each other.

Nanami’s jaw clenched at the lack of space, probably worrying that this was disrespectful, completely unaware you enjoyed every single moment of it, especially now that your senses were clouded with both his masculine scent and the calming aroma of flowers.

“If you keep such a distance from me and extend your arm to hold this, you’d tire your arm, and when your arm is strained, then you won’t be able to be fast enough to protect me from whatever harm comes my way. Plus, holding it in this manner leaves my nose to be burnt under the harsh sun! You wouldn’t want your princess to have sunburn, would you?”

“Definitely not, Your Highness. I would not want any harm or trouble your way.”

“So then step close to me. Like this,” you gestured to the both of you, and underneath the parasol, the hesitance swirled all over those pretty blue eyes of his. It made you want to sigh; he worried too much sometimes. “See? Your arm won’t be tired and my nose is perfectly safe under this shade.”

“But Your Highness – this distance—”

“I shall permit it for now. The situation calls for it,” you waved a hand nonchalantly, moving to where you wanted to see the new flowers. Although you couldn’t see him, the lack of warmth beside you was a telltale Nanami was too stunned to move, and you turned around, head tilted challengingly. “Or you’re still questioning the judgment of your princess?”

Nanami frowned, “I am not, Your Highness.”

“Good. Let’s see the flowers then,” You chirped with a clap.

It was the perfect day for a stroll, a rare day where you basked in not having to worry about your princess duties. The sun was out, the skies were clear, and was that a butterfly happily flying in your garden? Now that Nanami had grown comfortable after mentally reassuring himself it was fine to stick close to you, it honestly couldn’t have been better. But you being the sneaky little princess you were, you still had other plans in mind.

Three maids appeared out of nowhere, carrying a basket, a blanket, and a bottle of wine. They all strolled your way with their heads duck down, wordlessly setting out the white and red plaid patterned blanket on the soft, freshly trimmed grass.

You clapped your hands in sheer enthusiasm, “Oh, how perfect timing! It is quite tiring to stroll around this massive garden, don’t you think, Nanami? We should take a break.”

“A...picnic, Your Highness? Out here? Would you not be more comfortable inside—”

“The dining halls are boring and all the staff would be staring at me as I eat,” you plopped down rather ungraciously on the ground, taking off your heels and planting your sock clad feet on the blanket. On any other normal day, your dear Mother would’ve smacked you with her fan had she seen you act this way, but your parents were out of town, and Nanami was the last person who’d ever judge you. You had every right to be free. “It’s not a very comfortable thing, as you must know, and I’d like to enjoy my temporary freedom.”

A few beats passed as Nanami processed your words. A frown still on his handsome face, he studied the comfort of your body on the ground, already moving to open the basket with a cheerful hum. He supposed it wouldn’t be so bad to let you be this way.

“I will follow whatever pleases you then, Your Highness.”

You hid a smile through sucked in cheeks, pulling out the cake and acting surprised even though you’d ordered this days ago, randomly dragging a servant aside to shyly ask her to get you Nanami’s rumored favorite cake from when he went with you on a trip overseas.

“Oh, look! Fondant Cake from the Kingdom of Cherie. Fine, fine wine too, the best from His Majesty’s collection, if I heard it correctly,” you could barely contain your glee when the slightest light glimmered through his guarded eyes, hands reaching down to pat the empty space beside you. “Sit down. I need you to eat this for me.”

“But Your Highness—”

“Lest you want me to be poisoned, Nanami?” you reeled your hand back, gloved hands placed above your chest as horror filled your gaze. Nanami – bless his sweet soul – quickly bent his knees in half. Slowly, with disbelief still crossing his mind, he allowed you to spoon feed him, the chocolate sauce of the cake staining the tips of his lips. “Well? How is it? Is it safe to eat?”

Nanami moaned; pride swelling up on your chest because finally, you could do something for him. He was still too cautious though, and he concealed his delight with a slight clearing of his throat, palms flat on his muscular thighs as he nodded your way. “It is extremely delicious, Your Highness. I believe it is safe to eat.”

“Did you like it?” You already knew the answer, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it straight from him.

“Yes.”

Thankful that your ears were covered by a frilly bonnet so he wouldn’t see how warmth crawled up at the tips of your ears, you beamed at him, proudly presenting more of the surprised you had in store.

“I have fresh milk cheese from the city of Lein too. Do you know that people travel from all over the world just to visit Lein and have a taste of this cheese? If it were not for our good connections to them, we would never be able to taste this,” you felt Nanami’s curious gaze fall on the delicacy on your hands, a smirk tilting your lips because cheese as quite rare where you were from. Setting it down on a plate, you cut a piece of the dairy, the fork nearly shoved in Nanami’s face. “But just to make sure, of course. We never know people’s intentions – I could be poisoned. You know very well there are plenty of people after the throne and my head.”

Nanami’s eyes widened at your implications, “Princess, please do not speak so lightly of the threats over your life.”

“Why, does it worry you?”

Nanami looked at you like you’d grown two heads. “Of course it does. It is my duty to protect and worry about you.”

“Is it really just a duty?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing the plate towards him again before Nanami could comprehend whatever went on in your head. “Pair it with the cake. Maybe there could be a chemical reaction that is life threatening. Oh, how I fear for my life, Nanami.”

Obediently, Nanami swallowed the food, eyes closed from the flavors bursting through his mouth. It wasn’t too much of a reaction, but there were hardly any when it came to Nanami to begin with, so it was enough for you, and your giggles were stifled beside him. “I believe this one is safe too.”

And so began your spontaneous picnic, with Nanami being flustered the whole time because you insisted on feeding him. He refused many times, claiming that a royal shouldn’t feed a servant, much less spend their time with him this way. Even though you didn’t mean it, you rolled your eyes just to dissipate his worries, lying through your teeth that you were full and you didn’t want to be suffocated in your corset.

You proceeded to tell him of the different ways his precious princess could die of asphyxiation. The more grotesque your storytelling began; Nanami ate everything quietly, still oblivious that you had your eyes on him the whole time.

He ate quickly, not wanting to be rude and take up too much of your time, but you insisted that you didn’t want him to choke and ordered him to slow down. As your lovely and dutiful servant, who was he to defy your orders? So he took his time, and you closed your eyes, leaning back onto his firm shoulders that grew rigid under the contact.

Soon though, Nanami relaxed, and you were about ready to fall asleep when Nanami quietly announced he’d finished his food, thanking you for the meal.

“That was a lovely picnic,” you grinned at him, even if you’d barely eaten anything.

After all, you only asked for servings for one person, lying to your staff that you wanted it for yourself. Should the higher-ups ever hear about you ordering two servants to share it with someone else when it was painfully clear to everyone in the kingdom you had no prince, it would cause chaos.

Nanami followed you as you stood up, the servants taking it upon themselves to clear up the dishes before they left you to your own devices. You walked all the way near the back of the garden, a place private only for the royal members for this was where they kept their most precious flowers. Upon seeing that the ones you’ve ordered had arrived and they were blooming beautifully beside the white roses, you ran to it, gesturing for Nanami to come closer. He leant down to inspect it, watching the way it twirled around your elegant fingers.

“This is called a Violet. It symbolizes faith and affection.”

“It is beautiful,” he commented quietly, his cool gaze sliding over to yours. “It suits you very much, Your Highness.”

Your cheeks warmed at the sudden attention, which was ironic, since wasn’t that what you always wanted? “I think it suits someone else better, if I were to be honest,” you admitted mysteriously, leaving your bodyguard confused for the nth time that day, but as always, he kept silent unless spoken to. Nanami’s eyes drifted to the flowers again, the rule of never looking in the eyes of royals burned right through his head.

Deep down in your heart, you knew it was a bit too early, but you’d always been impatient. You wouldn’t wait for the right time or the perfect opportunity – you preferred to grab moments and create them yourself.

Squeezing the hem of your dress under bundled fists, you finally gained the courage to be as upfront with him. “Nanami, can you promise me something?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Never forget this flower. When you are feeling down, I want you to remember this lives and blooms here, that it was the Princess’ favorite, and she wants nothing more than to have this whole garden bloom with it,” You knew, you knew painfully that Nanami may never understand your garden referred to your heart and that it bloomed with your affection for him, but was it so bad to hope that one day you may show your adoration for him?

You’d prepared for this – for the possibility that maybe you never could – so you ordered these flowers, wishing silently that someday Nanami might understand the things you could never say.

“When the right time comes, I shall pluck a flower and give it to the person that receives my faith affection, and I’ll create an entire garden for them.”

Nanami absorbed your words, processing them seriously just as a servant should when it comes to their master’s words. A moment later, Nanami nodded once, head bowed in respect. “I’m sure whoever Prince is lucky enough to get your hand in marriage will be absolutely delighted, Your Highness.”

“The person I long for is not a prince,” you hinted, “He sure is charming, however, much to his ignorance.”

Nanami peeked at you under his blond lashes, the confused pout on his face worrisome yet adorable. It made you want to step forward and capture those red lips in a kiss, but you were still his Princess, and he your bodyguard. You couldn’t do it – not now, at least – for his sake. “I am not sure it would be ideal that you marry a non-royal, Your Highness.”

“Tell me, Nanami,” you began, voice turning serious that his ears perked up at the sudden firmness compared to your usually lilted self. “Do you believe love should be constrained by rules and traditions?”

His answer came in an instant, making you wonder if he would still keep to his words if he found out everything. “No, Your Highness.”

You smiled at his answer – longingly, proudly, and at the same time sadly. “And I wholeheartedly agree with you on that.” Without another word, you turned your back on him and walked back inside the large castle, his footsteps finally audible as he followed you.

Funny it was, that you, a royal-blooded woman found so much comfort in the sound of someone’s breathing and footsteps.

“Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

You sighed and placed your book down your lap, playfully glaring at the stiff bodyguard who hadn’t moved a muscle ever since he accompanied you in your private library. “You are causing me an uncomfortable amount of stress. I do not like it.”

“What have I done wrong, Your Highness?” his voice trembled again, his back forming that straight, perfect bow that you knew took him years to practice. It probably caused him a lot of pain if his head guard slapped the other servants’ backs just to straighten their spine, and you winced at the idea of it. No one had ever even dared laid a finger on your hair; not without your permission, anyway.

“I sincerely apologize for my shortcomings. I hereby vow to do better in my duties to serve you.”

“As you should. Now come here,” you beckoned him to come closer, sighing louder when Nanami sat a foot away from you, lips pressed into a tight line. “Closer, Nanami.”

Biting his lip – and you nearly couldn’t tear your gaze away from the sight – Nanami inched closer to you, his back still perfectly straight, eyes staring straight ahead, and he was so rigid you wondered if he even breathed at all.

You shook your head with a stifled smile, soft, tireless hands bunching up to release the tight knots of his firm, broad shoulders. You weren’t surprised he felt this hard under your touch; he was a bodyguard, after all, the Princess’ personal one, at that. It made sense he kept himself trimmed, but it didn’t stop the heat spreading all over your skin anyway as you imagined just how firm he was under his clothes.

Eager to get rid of such inappropriate thoughts, you huffed through your nose, continuing to roll your fingers over his back.

“You look so stiff that I cannot focus on this novel I’m reading. Heavens know how shameful it must be that we are getting scholars to study with me this weekend and I am not even halfway done with this classic. It truly bothers me, Nanami.”

“Your Highness,” Nanami’s voice was hushed, his eyes staring directly into yours. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a massage. If you keep up being this rigid around me, I will lose focus because it makes me uncomfortable, and if I lose focus, I can’t perform my duty well as the princess, and if I am unable to do that, I lose respect, then my title stripped away from me. Terrifying, Nanami. Terrifying, indeed.”

Nanami was silent for a while, his gaze not leaving your focused face. Then, he turned away, his shoulders deflating as he gave in to the pleasure of your surprisingly expert hands. “I am extremely sorry.”

“As you should be,” you commented sarcastically, “Now relax. Pick up a book you like and have some of the biscuits, tea. I cannot focus with you standing around me like a statue. The stone gargoyles do that for us already,” when Nanami didn’t budge a muscle even after you’d finished massaging him, you waved a hand in the air, brow raised challengingly. “Well? Are you defying my orders?”

Nanami shot up from his seat in an instant, “Of course not, Your Highness.”

You pulled the book up higher to hide the wide grin on your lips, watching his curious and slightly dazed staring at the walls upon walls of books stacked upon one another. His wonder of the sight left you wondering just how you managed not to kiss every part of him senseless, for he was so fascinating and far more intriguing than any other universe written beyond these pages.

Nanami’s long, slender fingers finally plucked out a rather thick novel he seemed to find interesting, making his way back to you. He still sat on the other end of the couch to respect your space, and you kept silent this time, not wanting to cross the line.

He may be comfortable around you now, but you knew Nanami better than anyone, and he still held his orders and duties close to his heart that he would never break them no matter what.

It was a compelling quality of his – one you had no idea whether to admire or be irritated of.

Your twinkling eyes studied his stunning features; from his slicked back hair, to his sunken cheeks, all the way down to the sharp point of his nose and to the plumpness of his lips. He was too beautiful that you wondered how he hadn’t managed to be snagged away yet when you were reminded that Nanami was too busy in his duties of protecting you to have time for romance – and for the first time, you felt thankful for the fact you were a royal.

“That is a good one,” you piped up as you read the title of the classic novel. It was a classic about the variegated realms between dreams and reality, one you haven’t read but always wanted to. “Do you mind reading it to me someday? I love the sound of your voice.”

Nanami’s cheeks flushed a bright red at your unexpected compliment, but he nodded anyway, clearing his throat before he spoke. “S-someday, Your Highness, if your schedule allows it so.”

It sounded so much like a promise – and you looked forward eagerly to it.

Finally gaining your focus and determination to study and perform your royal duties now that Nanami had finally taken some time to relax, you did the same, leaning back onto the velvet couch and crossing your legs over the other. “Someday it is.”

“You have to be prepared for your coronation ball,” Rubine, one of the assistants of your dancing tutor made known, snapping her fingers in front of your face when you’d unknowinfly spaced out the window. “Now, up on those toes, back straight and head held high, Your Highness. Let us see if you’ve mastered your dance routine. You must understand it is the most crucial part of the ball and all eyes will be watching you. You cannot afford to make a single mistake.”

Suddenly remembering of why you were spacing out, you winced at the previous phone call prior to Rubine’s arrival. “I am well aware of that, Rubine, but...”

“But?”

“My dance partner, Philippe, just called to say he’s fallen ill and cannot make it today.”

“Ah, Philippe!” Rubine tugged at her hair, dramatically bending forwards to groan, “This is the final rehearsal! Your coronation is so near!” She sat up straight and paced back and forth, her long locks jumping and bouncing as she chewed at her nails. “Well, what shall we do now? We don’t have anyone else to practice with you and I’m only here to substitute for Madam Tee. She’d kill me if she finds out you didn’t rehearse, and I doubt any of the boy servants would know anything about the dance.”

“If I may,” Nanami suddenly spoke up from the corner, tentatively approaching the both of you with one of his hands laid flat on his abdomen. You and Rubine fell silent, his eyes flitting over yours for a moment. “I’ve been with the Princess from all of her dance classes. I know the routine very well,” his tongue darted out to lick at his lips, sending both your mind and heart into a frenzy overdrive. “If Her Highness is comfortable with it, I may be her dance partner for now.”

“That works, I suppose.”

“I’d like to see you dance, Nanamin,” you teased confidently, but no mistake, your heart drummed wildly in your chest at the idea of dancing with the man who’d unknowingly captured both your eye and heart the moment you met him. “Let’s see how good you are then. I warn you though; I’m a very skilled dancer. But please, don’t fret, I won’t criticize you.”

You expected Nanami to at least go along with your lighthearted teasing, but he was Nanami Kento; a very dutiful servant who lived to please and serve his master.

He simply pressed a polite kiss to the pads of your knuckled when you offered it, his eyes still unreadable as he praised, “You are a very good dancer indeed, Your Highness.”

You already knew that, but hearing it fall from his lips hit differently. It suddenly got harder and harder to remember the routine, your confidence slipping into thin air the moment his warm hands wound around the curve of your waist, flattening at the small of your back.

Your breath hitched as you looped your fingers through his larger, calloused ones, and your heart absolutely melted because you fit just perfectly in his hands. Considering that you’d taken off your gloves, you could feel ever callous and scar in his hands, a huge contrast to your soft ones that had never known a day of manual labor.

Nanami was close enough you could feel his breath warm your cheeks, with you staring up at him with wide, blown out eyes. He was still expressionless as ever, jaw tight and brows dipped low, but you could see the softness in his gaze – nearly bordering on adoration.

In that moment, you felt yourself falling harder, and soon, you were both lost in the music.

Nanami was right – he did know the dance. For such an unyielding protector, Nanami danced extremely well, his turns and guidance to your twists flawless.

He caught you in his arms each time, his hands slipping back to hold your waist as if it was second nature for him to hold you like this, to dance with you like this. Everything faded into nothingness at the background, both your gazes captured and enamored by one another. Somewhere in the climax of the dance, your chest pressed flush against his a little tighter, your hands squeezing his a little harder, and you both danced like you were the only ones that mattered in each other’s world.

And in that moment, it felt like you did.

When the music slowly faded out to its ending, you and Nanami were both breathing hard from the strenuous performance that required the utmost elegant execution. Still, his hands remained on your waist, your hand holding him in such a manner that you almost refused to let him go.

But you had to – you knew you had to – and with a broken smile, you pulled away from Nanami.

“Wow,” breathed out Rubine “Princess, I am blown away. You’ve danced better than you ever did with Philippe. You two have got amazing chemistry,” she rubbed her chin at the observation, but you and Nanami were turned away from each other, both of your hearts more conflicted than ever. Rubine, however, remained unknowing of this all. “I guess being around each other all the time adds in to that fact too. That was a very mesmerizing and intimate performance – I actually felt a little guilty that I’m witnessing such moment.”

“I am glad I could be of service to Her Highness.”

Your gaze cut through his, the heat in your eyes loud enough that he was compelled to hold your stare. You immediately softened at his expression; giving in to the pleads of your heart that you were and always will be, utterly and hopelessly in love with him – even if it was impossible he’d ever feel the same way.

Surely, though, it wouldn’t be so much of a sin for a princess to be selfish in a while. “I look forward to dancing with you on the ball, Nanamin.”

“I highly doubt that, Your Highness,” Nanami’s eyes blanked out into an unfathomable expression again, making you wonder if the fondness he held you with when you danced ever existed. “You would be swarmed and surrounded by royals and elites – and I shall be watching out for you from the distance, as always. It’s going to be a crucial event and you have duties to fulfil; a dance with your bodyguard would only ruin the importance of the event,” he reminded you, his words like a slap to your face.

You didn’t have to be scholarly enough to interpret the meaning of his words; Nanami was reminding you that he was servant as you were master, and it simply would not happen. “Who knows what people would say...I only worry about your reputation, Your Highness. Words cut deeper than a knife.”

“I know that,” you agreed with a shattered heart, “I guess I’ll just dream then.”

The coronation went smoother than expected. Until it wasn’t. People from all over the world came, chatting with you about the latest political trends and plans on how you wished to broaden your territories and expand trading systems.

Everything went fine and accordingly to plan until the marriage talk was brought up. Before you knew it, princes and dukes, along with equally socially powerful men came flooding left and right, pressing kisses to your (thankfully) gloved hands and spewing out poetry as if it would impress you. In a way, it did, at least most of them had good taste in literature and were actually well-read, but your eyes kept searching for a certain blond in the crowd, that sinking feeling only growing in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually, it became too much for you.

A neighboring prince asked for your marriage and announced he was good friends with your family, and that about crossed the line and tipped you over the edge until you excused yourself. Growing too tired with all this unnecessary “royal duties”, you disappeared from the crowd, running to the nearest desolated terrace and crying your eyes out.

You never wanted to be a princess.

You never wanted to be born with such luxury, only to pay a price that you couldn’t even choose your own future.

You lost track of time and you no longer questioned why no one looked for you. With each passing second, the crown above your braided hair grew a lot heavier and you slumped across the pillar, burying your tear-streaked face behind your arms. You just felt so tired you wanted to rest – wanted to see Nanami, to run away, to tell him that you loved him.

But he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even seen him the moment you woke up, servants flocking you at every corner as they prepared you for the event.

Your heart ached and you called out for him in broken whispers, wishing that he’d be there to comfort you. “Nanami,” you cried out softly. It was pathetic, really, that the newly crowned queen was crying like a child who lost their toy as you hid from the crowd. “Nanami, where are you, Nanami—”

A pair of arms tugged you into a solid chest, your cheek pressing on top of a rapid heartbeat that raced to no end. Warm, strong arms engulfed you in a hug, a heavy head with a familiar scent falling on the sides of your head that was free from the tips of the crown.

“I thought I lost you, Queen,” Nanami panted, his hold on you growing tighter. Your tears stopped flowing as you fisted his shirt, weakening in his arms and he let you – he knew even the Queen of this prosperous kingdom was still a person and you allowed yourself to grow vulnerable, because this was Nanami and Nanami always caught you.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, the salt of your tears passing to his cheeks.

Nanami stood frozen solid for a second before he kissed you back, taking your breath away because his lips held the same wanting as yours did. Soon, his large hands cupped your face as he pulled you closer to him, sighing into your mouth as if he’s dreamed of this moment as long as you had. Nanami kissed you with so much love pouring from his lips that he didn’t have to tell you for you to know, prompting the dam within you to break.

You were crying – the happy tears flowing endlessly – while his thumbs wiped the tears away.

“I love you,” you confessed as you both pulled away, foreheads pressed against each other. This time, there was no more fear or worry as love shone in both your eyes, your hands still helplessly clinging on to him for dear life. “I love you, Nanami, I’ve always loved you. Please don’t leave me – please don’t.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, Your Majesty,” he addressed you according to your new title, but nothing has changed for him. “I have loved you too long before, and I’ll still keep loving you if you’ll let me.”

That night, you both shared a plethora of first. The first kiss. The first dance. The first I love you’s that wouldn’t stop spilling from your lips, the confessions accompanied with laughter. It was only the beginning of a wonderful yet unforgettable memory, and you abandoned all the riches and gold in the world because this, right here was your real treasure, and you sealed your promise of your faith affection to him with one last kiss.

Ever since you and Nanami had established your relationship, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

Being Queen didn’t seem too much of a grueling task anymore, not when Nanami was grazing his thumb over your knuckles under the table when you were doing paperwork, not when work days and boring, dreadful meetings always ended with him pulling you aside as everyone left for a quick kiss that soon turned into a heated lip-locking.

This was bliss – to have him right here, to finally be able to express how much you loved him – and you couldn’t get enough it.

You still had no king despite the number of suitors that visited every week, so much so that the maids have grown weary of cleaning up your trash bin filled with unopened love letters. Quite frankly, you couldn’t care less because you already had the love of your life within your arms. You turned everyone down, and it wasn’t a huge deal because you were just crowned Queen and surely you had far better things to do than worry about bringing about an heir, but it had already been a year and your advisors were mad.

They’ve informed you that several cities and kingdoms were losing trust over your reclusiveness, the diplomatic relationship turning strained thanks to your eagerness to deny everyone.

Your tongue slipped inside Nanami’s, his hands crawling under your night gown as his body crawled between your legs, with you sighing romantically into his mouth.

“Your Majesty,” he mumbled through stuttering kisses, his fingers deftly pressing into your curves. Despite your insistence that he addressed you by your name, Nanami requested that he still keep his duty as your bodyguard, and you were too soft to deny him this. “Your Majesty…I think we should put an end to this.”

You stopped kissing him.

Hands falling from his neck, you pulled away from him, eyes hardened into a glare. “What do you mean we should put an end to this? Are you suggesting we break up?”

“Yes.”

You gritted your teeth at how he said this so easily. Before you could open your mouth to retort, Nanami beat you to it, distracting you by pressing soft kisses on the column of your neck, always so gentle and careful to not leave marks where the maids could see.

“I’m only worried about you,” he whispered, “I am ruining your reputation because I am in love with you. Your Majesty, I promise to still serve you and be loyal to you,” Nanami pulled away after leaving one last kiss to the sensitive area of your neck that always had you whining in his arms, but this time, you whined out of desperation, nails digging into his bicep as he stared at you apologetically. “We cannot keep doing this, Your Majesty. We both cannot be selfish enough to abandon the future of our people.”

“Well, what about my future?” you banged your fist on your chest, “What about my happiness, Nanami, ever think about that?”

Nanami wiped away the tears streaming down your cheeks, pulling you into the comfort of his arms instead. He understood your pain better than anyone for he, too, shared your longing.

“I don’t want you to go,” you cried into his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly that it crumbled beneath your grip. “It’s not a life if it’s not with you and just tell me what I have to do, I’ll abandon my title and I’ll stay with you, we don’t have to—”

Nanami silenced you with a kiss, this one more ardent than the others.

He whispered sweet nothings into yours, broken promises that he’d stay, that you didn’t have to change anything and that you could work it out. You believed him, or at least you fooled yourself that you did, because your hold on him was regretful, angry, begging.

The next morning, Nanami was gone from your chambers.

The next night, Nanami was gone from the servant chambers.

The next week, you were married to Prince Satoru from a Kingdom you’d never even heard of.

Nanami resigned. As per rule of the kingdom, staff didn’t need the monarch’s permission to be dismissed from their post. He wasn’t there in your wedding, and he wasn’t there for the next few days to come. These days stretched into weeks, and two months have already passed before you were silently staring out at your window, wondering what Nanami was doing.

The last thing you heard from him was that he went back to his family’s warm, living a peaceful life and bowing one last time to you before he completely disappeared.

His letter remained in your drawers, his neat cursive informing you that he was a lowly servant, and didn’t deserve you, that he didn’t want to ruin your future and only wanted the best for you. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to curse him for it – but you only tossed and turned in your bed, staring at the ceilings as you pictured his rare smile over and over again.

You wondered how he was doing.

Was he happy? Was he okay? Did he think of you night before he slept? Did he miss you the same way you craved his touch, his voice, his laugh – everything about him and himself?

A loud rattling caught your attention, your head turning to see Prince, or rather, King Satoru saunter in. He was popular in his kingdom and even rumored to have a harem, which you could see happening because he was flirty and shameless.

It was clear that this was a loveless marriage and he only agreed because he had good ties with your family, also adding in to the fact he was the richest and most powerful out of all your suitors. You weren’t too friendly with him, but you weren’t treating each other like strangers too. You both acknowledged each other according to the title, but it never stretched to the fact he was man and you his wife.

Satoru had never talked to you before other than the common pleasantries, so it surprised you when he sat across you, mirroring that familiar torn and forlorn feeling as he stared at your kingdom.

“You and I,” he began quietly, “We both want what we cannot have, don’t we?”

“Hmm.”

“I know you’re in love with someone else,” Satoru smiled, and your eyes widened when he only chuckled knowingly. “It’s okay, Queen, I promise I don’t mind. In fact, I’m just the same as you – I’m madly in love with my butler you won’t understand.”

You nearly toppled over your seat at the sudden confession that Satoru laughed as he helped pull you up, but it didn’t stop you from blabbering.

“You-you’re in love with Geto Suguru?”

“That I am. I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, to be honest, but people had different expectations and plans for me, as you can see.”

“I,” your throat ran dry, your palms growing sweaty. Surely…you could trust him with this, right? “I’m also in love with my bodyguard, or former bodyguard, anyway. His name is Nanami Kento and he’s currently at his farm and I-I—”

“You want to see him and break this marriage?” Satoru didn’t even have to hear the words come from your mouth before he’s pulling you up to your feet, crystalline blue eyes as vivid as the sky. “Well, what’s holding you back, Queen? Let’s go look for him.”

Satoru dragged you along the hallways, liberated laughter echoing in the large space of the castle before you two saddle up your respective horses, shouting for the gate guards to move away. You’ve never felt this free – and Satoru shared the same glee as yours when he stretched his arms beyond the sky, whooping as he smacked his horse to go faster.

By the time you’ve made it into Nanami’s farm, it was nearly sunset, and both you and Satoru were drained from the long journey.

Nanami was dressed in a plain shirt and worn-out sweatpants, dirt caked on his sunken cheeks when he turned at the sounds of horses galloping, you perched on top of your white stallion proudly. “Nanami!” his eyes widened and he dropped the bucket he was holding, the breath taken away from his chest when you jumped off your horse, crashing him into a huge hug.

“Your Majesty,” he spoke breathily, hands coming up to caress the back of your head. “What are you doing here? And King Satoru? What’s going on?”

You answered him by dragging his collar down until his lips danced with yours. Just like that, all your worries and previous sorrows washed away into nothing as his hands gripped tightly at your hips, kissing you back just as eagerly that even he was crying. This time around, you reached to swipe your thumb over the warm tears, kissing him over and over again to remind him your feelings hadn’t changed.

“Let’s go home, Nanami. I promise I’ll do everything right this time around – just please, come home with me.”

You’ve lost count of the times you’ve prayed to the divine beings over and over again to give you one last chance, fearful that maybe Nanami would still be firm in his belief that he wasn’t good enough for you when he was perfect the way he is.

But then he kissed the crown of your head as a silent form of affection, staring deep into your eyes as he smiled, “Your wish has always been my command, Your Majesty.”

Nanami had his back turned to you, his slender hands plucking the violet flower. Upon hearing your not so sneaky footsteps, he whipped around and laughed just as you roared, making the little girl in his arms giggle, copying your greeting as she hissed her fangs.

“Rawr!”

“Aw, you’re so adorable!” you pinched her little cheeks before peppering them with kisses, your precious daughter laughing at the sudden shower of affection. Nanami laughed, too, the deep sound vibrating from deep within his chest. He held up your baby to kiss the left side of her cheeks while you squished her right, your baby’s cheeks smushed between the adoration of her parents. “You’re so cute – just like Daddy!”

“I am not cute,” he protested dejectedly, although the small smile on his face told a different story.

It wasn’t easy – none of this ever was, but you didn’t regret a single moment of it. The old school traditions of your kingdoms were abolished due to a long, hefty process of appealing to the public and proving that love should never be constrained by rules and traditions, and now Satoru was also happily married with his husband, Geto Suguru. The last letter you got from him informed you they adopted a two baby boys named Megumi and a feisty little girl called Nobara, and you were excited for the children to meet and play again.

Safe to say, it was all worth it. All the moments led up to this were painful and filled with longing, but you’d do it all over again if you could.

Because this was what you promised him – endless faith and affection – and you sealed this lifelong promise with a kiss.

“I love you, King,” you mumbled through his lips, and he laughed as he rocked the baby side to side. The kiss was slightly awkward since her grubby hands were trying to clutch both of your chins, sending you both into fits of laughter.

“I love you too, Queen,” he kissed the top of your head and your crown with it – for you were his woman, his wife, and the Queen who ruled all of his heart – leaning down to kiss his baby’s cheeks before he pulled you both in for a hug. The atmosphere that day was similar from when you first forced him to have a picnic with you; warm, sunny, with the wind encouraging the flowers to dance in sync like how you danced with Nanami when you were younger. Your baby gurgled nonsensically, Nanami smiling to himself as you both stared at the bundle of joy in his arms. “I love you too, Violet. Mommy and Daddy loves you a lot.”

To love him, to hold him, to cherish him – it was a promise you held deep within your soul.

1K notes · View notes

actualbird · 2 years ago

Note

good day po fave online kuya kong si kuya zak 🫶🏽🫶🏽

feel free to delete this from ur inbox if u don wanna answer i genyuweenly won't mind <33 pero how did u decide on a senior high school?? a strand?? A COLLEGE???? a career too doot doot doot

idk school and the future has been stressing me out :pain: also any debate tips cause in my head ur a very good speaker...... my first debate is graded so it's taking a toll on my grp 😓😓😓😓 AND labag sa kalooban namen ung topic AHAHHAHAHHA so namamlastik lang kami

thank u sm ule kuya kahit na idelete mo to, typing it out made me calmer ng onti seryoso ueuueue

>hopefully friendly neighborhood (marikenyo) grade 10 student

ps; ur luke cos is so cos goals the luke stan in me is screaming crying cause im curious if im taller than u /j im only 5'2" lawl UR WIG IS SO NICE TOO LIKE GENUINELY !!!! the styling is mwa chefs kiss

hi hi anon!! omg first off can i just say i got a nice boost of happy chemical from being called kuya zak like,,,,oh das me :'D

and it's alright, i dont mind this at all!! i really understand how the future can be stressful huhu, especially when ur in high school, so helping out in any way wld be my pleasure

i'll go thru this one by one (and under a readmore) cuz it seems uve been following here for a while so siguro by this point, siguro alam mo na na madaldal ako esp sa mga ask responses JHVKAJHSFVJKAHS

how did i decide a senior high school strand/college degree/career?:

unfortunately, i cannot help on on the High School Strand kasi 'di ko naabutan yung strand system in high school VSJHFVKSJDHGSD. my batch graduated right when they started doing strands, so i never got to experience it, huhu, nor do i understand the process (even after my younger sibling has tried many times to explain it to me, minsan bobo ako jVKJSHF)

but maybe my next stuffs can help out :D

in choosing a college course i.....really kinda just picked what i wanted to do. and this was a huge privilege i'll always be grateful to my family for, whatever i wanted to study, they'd support me. the courses i applied for in diff schools were the following, in order of first to last choice: Creative Writing, English/Comparative Literature, and BA Psychology (tho disclaimer: i only put this last one on application forms cuz it was needed, i didnt actually want to study that very much HAHA, it was writing or lit for me all the way)

on why i wanted those courses is....idk it's another thing that i think is also a privilege. ive always known that ive wanted to write, to study writing, and to pursue it later on. ive been writing and reading ever since i was a kid and i was pretty deadset on it from an early age.

i know that a lot of people dont have a similar experience tho sometimes, but i guess my advice for how to pick a college course is: what can you see yourself enjoying learning more and more and more about?

ofc, this gets a bit more complicated if ur family is strict and will only allow u to take certain degrees huhu. but if uve got the freedom to choose, i'd say dont just think about what you like, but what you'd like to learn about.

cuz college is work. it's a LOT of work. and while liking something can help, that Like can fall flat when youve gotta be doing all the requirements. it helps if, whatever u choose, it's something uve got a craving for knowledge for.

and honestly, if you dont know what to get or if you choose something and realize it isnt for you, thats okay too! you can shift courses in college! or if you want to learn more, you can take a minor degree! sometimes your first choice wont work, and thats okay. you can choose again and see what fits.

how i chose my career was a bit different from this cuz....the ph job market is in shambles JHVASFVASKJFHASVKFJAH

i currently work as a copywriter and despite the stresses, i really enjoy my job! but this wasnt my first job (my first job fucking sucked so bad that i resigned within a month) and i didnt land it straight out of college (i was out of college for over a year before landing my current gig). i got lucky with my current job, bc when it comes to careers, it's a lot harder to have a choice.

of course, all the jobs i was looking into were writing related: content writer, SEO writer, scriptwriter, etc etc. but theres a lot of companies out there that treat writers like absolute shit, a lot of companies who wont get back to you after an interview, a lot of companies who wont take you. i didnt choose my career so much as get lucky in the job market gacha (lol), but my advice here is that like...search within the industries you think you'd, at best, enjoy working in or, at minimum, can endure being in

which is a very depressing statement, i know.....life is tough, but there are good jobs out there with ppl who wont treat u like crud. if i got lucky, i can only hope more ppl can get this kind of experience too

and like i said in the college bit, if u find urself in a job u dont vibe with and u have the privilege/stability to be able to quit it:.....just quit it

a lot of these life choices are made to be really Big by schools and teachers and everybody really, but you dont have to get it right the first time. you can start over, it's alright, youve got your whole life ahead of you. if your life allows u the privilege and freedom to choose and discover new things, dont hold yourself back

i hope this could help somehow. i realize that a lot of this is medj philosophical jHVJHSFKJSD but back when i was in college, i wish somebody told me that it's not the end of the world if i didnt get it right the first time. so thats what i'll tell you, cuz it's true :'D

and as for debate tips HAHA, okay heres where i can give some more concrete advice because i LOVE DEBATING. I LOVE PUBLIC SPEAKING AND PRESENTING OMG OMG. it's a dream come true for me, people HAVE to listen to what ive got to say, it's a huge power trip JVSKJHFVAJS

ANYWAY, DEBATE TIPS:

i am so sorry that the topic that got assign to u and ur grp isnt something u like huhu. but my overall tip for debate (and any public speaking tbh) is. fake it

like, legit, just fake it. the delivery portion of debate, to me, is basically theatre and acting HVKJHVFKJAHFAS

imagine the most confident speaker uve ever seen urself, maybe somebody so confident na nainis ka sa kaniya, and do exactly that:

get that good posture, make motions with your hands because this helps get people's attention. if eye contact makes u nervous (it makes me so nervous huhu) u can blur/unfocus ur eyes, U Do Not See It

maintain a good rhythm with your speaking too. speak with moderate loudness and emphases for the less important, and then idiin mo in the bits na gusto mo parang mic drop moment ahfjshfa (which is usually saved best for the latter portion of an argument, but good to pepper it in as well thru the whole thing with ur most important pieces of info)

tho ofc thats all only on the public speaking bit. if im remembering correctly, high school debate does also rely heavily on the research/outline stuffs u have to do prior to the debate, and for that, i have less advice huhu. im not all that great of a researcher, but as long as uve got ur reputable sources all arranged well, oks na yan!

i feel like at this point i shld tell u that in high school, medj patapon ako na estudyante, basta pumasa ako, ok na yan sakin JHVJSHFVKDSJHFKS

that being said, pls take all my advice w a grain of salt, ha! because what works for me might not work for you. everybodys got different methods of speaking, researching, choosing degrees and careers. but even if what i said doesnt match what wld work for u, i hope ur main takeaway na lang is that u can do whatever u want in whichever way works best for you

anyway, thats all ive got to say for now! i hope smthng here could be of use and that you have a great week, anon :'D

(P.S. WAAHH, THANK U FOR UR KIND WORDS ON MY LUKE COSPLAY :DDD!! i got the wig secondhand for a steal price HAHA and......yes, you are taller than me, im 5'1" JHVJSHDFVKSDJHFVDSKJHFDSKJJKHVKJH)

#asks #anon #ANG DAMI KONG SINABE HSFKJSSFGJH i hope smthng here can help tho <3

9 notes · View notes

amazingmaeve · 4 years ago

Text

Visionary ─ t. Shelby

─ “you’re not going out dressed like that.”

summary ─ thomas shelby was a visionary in y/n’s eyes but sometimes when gets to possessive she gets annoyed since they aren’t even dating.

request ─ hi can i request 33 and 35 from the smut prompts with tommy shelby please?

he thinks his girlfriend’s outfit is too revealing for their evening out. thank you!

warnings ─ smut (18+)

a/n ─ first time writing for tommy so go easy on me if it isn’t that good! Also i didn’t make it girlfriend i made it friends with benefits hope that’s ok.

word count ─ 1.5k (lol is that my lucky number)

Y/N sighed as she stood in front of the full body sized mirror. She placed her hands on her stomach as she stared at herself in the dress. She thought she looked good for a nice going out. She was going to the Garrison that night to have some fun in her life.

Tommy wouldn’t like it of course since he barely liked it when she showed some legs. It annoyed Y/N greatly that Thomas felt like he had the right to control everything she does and she reminds him every time he does something like that. Even though they weren’t dating she didn’t mind his possessive side since she thought that might be a sigh he cared for her.

She just wanted him to trust that she wasn’t going to do anything with any other guy. But Tommy always reminds her that it’s not about him trusting her it's about not trusting the guys who stared at her. Y/N would often roll her eyes at the man in annoyance since he slept with many girls often and when a guy looks at her he usually ends up hurt.

She met Thomas Shelby at the Garrison where she was at with her friends getting some drinks. Of course Y/Ns heard of Thomas Shelby the man who ran Small Heath Birmingham. Y/N didn’t know what to think of him, was she supposed to be scared or not.

But once he came over to her and started talking to her, Y/N began to relax. But maybe that was the alcohol. But that night Y/N did not go home alone.

Ever since that night Y/N and Tommy have been sleeping together but they weren't in a relationship. At first Y/N didn’t care since the sex was the best she’s ever had, but as time went on she began to fall for the dangerous man. Y/N didn’t tell him of course since she thought that he wouldn’t feel the same about her so she just kept her mouth shut.

She just kept having sex with him, which she didn’t mind. But one thing bothered her whenever Tommy wanted to have sex Y/N obeyed wanting to be pleased and wanting him to be pleased. But whenever she tried to initiate Tommy would blow her off leaving Y/N alone to just use her hands like she’s done many times.

She was at Tommy's mansion as she was about to go out to the Garrison, Tommy invited her over before she was gonna go out. Y/N brought her things with her so she didn’t have to go to her flat to change. Tommy didn’t even notice the things in her hands before his lips found hers as they kissed passionately.

A couple hours later Y/N stood in front of the mirror all dressed up while Tommy was in the bathroom cleaning up. She didn’t hear him re-enter his bedroom.

“You’re not going out dressed like that love,” Thomas stern voice rang Y/Ns ears as she jumped not knowing he was standing right there.

“Bloody hell Tommy don’t scare me like that I almost had a heart attack,” Y/N says breathlessly, hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating fast. Thomas rolled his eyes at her dramatics. Y/Ns learned in her time with Tommy that he didn’t have a good sense of humor. Thomas dressed in his trousers without his shirt as he was going to get ready to do some work Y/N thought to herself.

“Where are you going,” Thomas asked his blue eyes following her as she applied some of the lipstick she brought.

“To the Garrison to meet up with some friends of mine,” Y/N says popping her lips after she was done with the lipstick. She turned around so she was facing him. “And Tommy you can’t control my life,” She says out of annoyance.

“I don’t want them to look at what’s mine love,” Thomas says cockily as he finally got his shirt back on and then went to get some gin and poured it into a glass.

“Such a hypocrite,” Y/N uttered under her breath and rolled her eyes. Tommys eyes snapped to her as she got her heels on.

“What was that,” Thomas asked sternly.

“Nothing it was just that you can sleep with as many women as you want but when one guy looks at me you threaten his life,” Y/N explains angrily standing up on her feet now.

“Well if you didn’t want me sleeping with more women you should’ve spoken up about it,” Thomas stated, his face still as emotional as before.

“Still I wouldn’t have threatened their lives for looking your direction,” Y/N huffed anger coursing through her veins. “Now if you excuse me I have to get going my friends going to be worried,” She says, grabbing her purse before she is about to leave.

“Like I said before you’re not going out dressed like that,” Thomas stated with a humorous tone in his voice which made Y/N pull her arm back and give him a glare.

“Make me,” Y/N says venomously. She saw that his eyes trailed to her lips as the sexual tension got higher and higher before they couldn't take and Tommy grabbed her face and kissed her with anger in his blood.

Y/N kissed back her hands finding the back of his neck kissing him back hard as their teeth clashed against each other’s. His tongue slipped in and roamed around as her hands tugged on his hair.

She could feel her panties fill with her arousal as they stood there kissing. Thomas pulled back with an intake of breath before his lips found her neck and began to suck and nip at her sensitive spot which made her moan out his name as he guided them to the bed.

Y/N moaned as Thomas moved her to the bed and moved her over the side of the bed where Thomas stood behind. She felt his hands pull her dress up and pull her panties down and threw them across the room but she didn’t notice as his fingers found her folds.

He began to rub her clit with the pad of his thumb as Y/N whimpered his name. Thomas smirked loving the reaction he had on her. He stood there rubbing her clit for a couple minutes before undoing his belt and pulling his pants down a bit so he could take his cock out.

“Tommy,” Y/N whined as she felt his tip rub up and down her folds covering himself with her arousal.

Thomas moaned as he pushed inside of her and thrusted in hard, which made Y/N moan out her fingers curling in the bed sheets. He buried himself inside of her as his hands found her hair and tugged on it.

“That feel good love,” Thomas was feathering her neck with kisses as he pulled out to only thrust in again.

“Yes god yes,” Y/N moaned out as his cock hit her g spot.

Thomas moved back and placed his hands on her hips and began to pull out and thrust back in harder and harder and still hit that one spot that made her see stars. The bed sheets began to move flattering against her clit and with every thrust her clit dragged across the rough surface of the bed. Meanwhile Thomas began to moan quietly as she clenched around him every time he thrusted in.

She could feel it, she could feel her climax about to approach.

“Tommy I’m about to cum,” Y/N warned and whimpered a bit at the end as one thrust was particularly hard.

Thomas nodded and lifted her body up a little so that his fingers started to massage her swollen nub. Y/N moaned loudly as he continued his thrusting and his fingers still working on her clit. She clenched around him hard which made Thomas clench his teeth holding it so she could cum first.

Y/N moaned his name loudly as one swipe of his finger against her clit with one particular thrust made her clench her eyes and clench around him hard as she came around him. Her fingers unraveled the bed sheets as Thomas began to thrust in faster and started to chase his orgasm.

He moaned loudly as he emptied his load inside of her as she clenched around him trying to help get his orgasm. He rolled off her and sat against the bed breathing heavily sweat dripping off his forehead. Y/N sat up on the bed as she groaned, her legs were killing her.

“I’m guessing I’m staying the night,” Y/N smiled slyly as he stood up to get a cigarette and lit it before puffing the smoke in and out.

“Don’t worry you won’t wearing that dress for the rest of the night.”

#thomas shelby one shot #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby blurb #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders #tw smut #visionary

412 notes · View notes

crab-in-a-pocket · 4 years ago

Note

Maybeeee the bachelors and their crush with a playful back and forth teasing and flirting relationship? They just don't admit they like each other yet but its fairly obvious, and one day their crush just straight up admits they like them. How would the boys deal with that?

guess who's back bitchez!! thanks for the ask, anon, this was really fun to write :D brief hiatus over btw!! i'm back in business <33 seems short but i wrote this on my phone and i have no way to tell if it really is short or not but i hope yall enjoy nonetheless !! i'll edit it and add a "read more" sometime later when the wifi isnt as crappy on my laptop because the tumblr app is horseshit

tw: swearing

alex:

ok, wow, that was blunt and bold and super super hot

you two werre always pretty damn flirty but this is-- this is WOW

fucking speechless. eyes are flickering from your determined face, the bouquet in your hand, your suddenly extremely kissable lips (the kissability has been quadrupled due to this unforeseen circumstance)

he really didn't see it coming and nearly dropped one of his weights on his foot

he has no doubt about it because he can read the expressions on your face really well and damn it if you're fucking with him

but you're not and the bouquet in your outstretched hand is a little bit right in his face and his view of you is slightly obscured by the flowers

he plucks it from your hands, tosses it on his bed, takes you by the waist and kisses the living daylights out of you

sweetest shit ever but you are now alex's blunt translator

it's not a bad job, you get kisses for it

sam:

blush, blush, blush

ok, you two flirt exorbitantly but he has never blushed so hard in his life and... neither have you

nearly drops his guitar on his toes mid-jam

okay, you just BARGED in outta nowhere, regardless of your intentions, he gets startled

his mind registers your words and the bouquet and holy crap

you're standing in the middle of his bedroom, a little hot and sweaty from a typical day's work, holding a bouquet in your hands with a determined look in your face

sam's 70% sure he's in love when you tell him that you like like him and the sparkle in your eyes when he says "i'm in like with you, too" makes him feel like he's on cloud 9

he puts down his guitar, takes a flower from your bouquet, tucks it behind your ear, and then kisses you, slow and soft and so very heartfelt

is the one who goes on a tangent about how you confessed to him because he thinks it's the sweetest and coolest thing ever

sebastian:

surprised pikachu

he's awkward but he knows that all your flirting was leading somewhere

when you handed him the bouquet, a determined but strangely uncertain look in your eyes, he was so fucking relieved

so, he originally planned to confess to you in an unspeakably cheesy way

and THANK YOBA that you've saved him from himself

so, he just gets up from his desk, takes the bouquet and places it atop his computer and pulls you in a tight embrace

then, he kisses you. this part is surprisingly romantic-- he places his hand under your chin and presses the softest, lightest kiss on your lips, soft as a feather

he has a bright, endearing blush on his face and he could certainly say the same for you

he privately tells you some details about how he was going to confess but he stops after you fall over laughing

dork but he takes your sudden confession like a fucking champ

shane:

poor boy is wondering if you're fucking with him until he realizes you two are alone and the hint of hestitation on your face and the bright bouquet has him REELING

so, you really aren't joking or anything

i mean, you two teased each other and flirted a lot and he was usually on the receiving end of it so he takes everything you say with a healthy pinch of salt

he wants to ask you "what's that bouquet for?" in a calm, casual voice but when he says it, his voice is unusually quiet and strained

he didn't hear what you said and so you repeat it: "i like you. romantically. do you like me back? i mean, you don't have to tell me right now, you can think on it--"

shane very nearly tackles you. he hugs you so, so tightly, the bouquet crushed between your chests. and he tells you that yeah, i like you back.

and you two are kissing, kissing, kissing in his coop, charlie clucking at your feet and his blue chickens clucking in confusion

harvey:

confuzzled at the sight of the bouquet until you flat-out tell him that you like like him

his face just drains of color and you stop in the middle of your ramble, asking him if he doesn't feel the same way and if he's ok

he reassures you with a faint voice that, yes, he feels the same way but he also says that he thinks he's having an out of body experience and needs to have a quick lie-down

ok, wow, you actually like him and you are no longer just going to tease and flirt non-stop because you two are going to be an actual couple holy shit

you're bewildered but elated so you acquiesce and help him onto his doctor's bed, a concerned look on your face all the while

so you're just sitting next to harvey, tentatively stroking his hair while he has his out of body experience

he comes to a little later then sits up and asks you if he can kiss you. you beam and lean in for a kiss, soft and slow and so, very sure

elliot:

speechless. has Zero words for the way he's feeling right now and he is just so damn happy but he keeps opening his mouth like a fish in a tank because he keeps thinking of something to say but it's not enough

like, DUDE, he's used to your sly flirtations, innuendos, and suggestive smiles not... you being a mumbling, blushing mess.

he was super surprised when you walked in, holding a colorful bouquet of random flowers and shoving it at him, mumbling something so quickly he failed to catch it the first time

"i... what?"

"oh for the love of yoba, i said i like you romantically."

speechless, fucking speechless. so, he does the next best thing instead of talking. he takes you in his arms and pulls you in for soft, tender kiss

he deepens the kiss and presses you against the wall-- there really are times when actions speak louder than words

#sdv hcs #sdv headcanons #stardew headcanons #stardew hcs #sdv alex #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv harvey #sdv elliot #stardew valley #asks open #stardew valley hcs #sdv bachelors #stardew bachelors

395 notes · View notes

volleychumps · 4 years ago

Note

can u make fluffy scenario with iwaizumi, akaashi, kuroo, and oikawa where they’re playing volleyball with their s/o for the first time (and it’s their s/o’s 1st time playing) and then their s/o get scared of the ball (closes her eyes/run/etc) every time the ball comes near her. i love ur writing btwwww❤️ thank uuu!

My heart skipped a literal beat writing this request awwHH<33

Playing Volleyball w/ a Scared S/O (Iwaizumi, Akaashi, Kuroo, and Oikawa)

Iwaizumi

“Are you sure you’re sure about this?”

“Of course!”

Iwaizumi looks at you with slightly narrowed eyes before shrugging once, tightening the second knee pad around your left leg as you beam, excited gleam in your eyes. The gym at Aoba Joshai had been empty for the day since today was Seijoh’s rest day- and you had brightly suggested coming here to try out the sport your boyfriend was so passionate about.

“Don’t blame me if you’re not good right away, babe.”

“So I’m babe here and Y/N in front of your friends?” You arch a brow playfully as Iwa looks up from his bent-knee position in front of you to glare at you, making you giggle before running a hand through his hair in turn before pecking his forehead.

“Kidding. Sorta.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

He stands before walking to the opposite side of the net, stretching out his arm muscles as you frown, causing Iwa to send you a questioning look.

“Where are your pads?”

“On you.”

Iwa rolls his eyes at the guilty expression that crosses your features, a smirk tickling the corner of his lips.

“Don’t worry, babe- it’s not like you’ll actually make me hurt myself.”

“I don’t know whether or not to be relieved or offended.”

“Here goes- you ready?” Iwa ignores your side comment as you suddenly become determined.

Iwaizumi holds back a snarky comment at your clumsy position before hitting a serve to your direction with half the force he usually uses- albeit skillful- and watches the ball flit through the air-

only for a squeal to break his curious anticipation.

It takes the ace barely a second to register what had happened as you cover your face protectively, a high-pitched squeal slipping your lips as Iwa stills, watching you sidestep just in time to barely avoid the ball sent in your direction.

“I-Is it over?” Your hands still cover your face as Iwaizumi’s amused voice rings throughout the gym.

“For awhile now.”

Iwa feels a twitch to his lip as you sigh in relief, retracting your arms as you pout adorably at his amused expression.

“It’s not easy! Gimme another one.”

“We don’t have to-”

“Yes I do!” You raise your voice, taking the dark-haired boy off guard as Iwa takes on a confused expression at your intensity. “I...I want to know how to do the thing the guy I love loves most...”

The gym takes on a steady silence as Iwa feels heat spread across his cheeks at your honest words, before he clears his throat as you look away in embarrassment at your outburst.

“Alright, fine. I’ll give you another one.”

You nod once, seeing Iwa get back into position to serve the ball, but as soon as you hear him hit it, you find yourself shutting your eyes tight once again on instinct.

Just as dread and fear fill your system, you hear the ball land-

somewhere obviously far from where you were standing.

Instead, you feel a pair of large hands cup your face gently, tilting your head upwards before a warm pair of lips press against yours a tad roughly yet still brimmed with emotion. You open your eyes, not surprised to see Iwa had crossed the gym while the ball was in motion to get to you, seeing the served ball bouncing off out of bounds.

When he finally pulls back, you’re breathless, and his hands don’t move from their position cupping your face as Iwa’s dark eyes seem to burn into yours.

“Look.” Your eyes widen at the gentleness of his tone. “You don’t have to, alright? It’s not worth you hurting your pretty little face or bothering your equally pretty mind over some dumbass ball.”

When you look down, his hands tilt your head upwards again.

“Alright?”

“...Alright.”

“And you were wrong by the way.”

“Hm?”

You close one eye as Iwa kisses it, a smirk gracing his handsome features that had your heart beat picking up.

“Volleyball isn’t what I love most. It’s you, dumbass.”

Akaashi

“Y/N, setting isn��t as fun as spiking.”

“Would you rather Bokuto-san show me then?”

You smile evenly as your boyfriend sends you a tired look at your suggestion, helping you pull your hair into a messy-looking bun to keep it out of your face, pausing to do so.

He resumes with a slight click to his tongue. “Don’t even joke like that.”

You hum as he finishes up, wrapping the bun of hair with an elastic band as you peck him afterwards, thanking him sweetly as Akaashi clears his throat before taking position behind you, adjusting your arms.

“Alright-”

“I like this position.” You say randomly, spinning the ball in your hands as Akaashi pauses at your teasing tone, sighing as you burst out into laughter.

“Did you just make a sex joke?”

“If making a sex joke would make you mad- then no. I didn’t.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes, but a small quirk to his lips remains as he continues his instruction.

“When you toss the ball up, don’t let it hit your palms, try to only let it touch your fingertips for maximum control. Well, maximum control for a beginner-”

“Stooop calling me that.”

“Then don’t be a beginner.”

“I hate you.”

“Mhm. Just toss the ball, princess.”

Akaashi hides his small smirk from behind you as your ears pinken, indicating you were blushing as you scoff, steadying the ball at your fingertips. After adjustment, Akaashi’s hands move to wrap around your waist.

“Fine!”

The setter watches with a mild expression as you toss the ball up, hands in an awkward yet semi-correct position as he wonders if you’ll actually able to give a decent toss on your first try-

he feels your body flinch before he can realize that the ball had landed flat on your face, moving quickly to examine your features after the impact as the ball bounces away.

“Are you alright?”

Akaashi tries to pry your hands from your face so he could take a look, but pauses when he hears you sniff through your conjoined fingers.

“Does it hurt? What hurts?”

“I c-closed my eyes.”

Akaashi stills before turning around, thankful your eyes were closed as he tries to muffle the snicker that was coming involuntarily, hearing you whine from behind him, indicating you had heard him.

“Keiji!”

“I’m not laughing.”

“I never said you were, meaning you are!”

When the setter finally regains his composure, he gently pulls at your wrists to get them away from your face to reveal your pouty lips and slightly teary eyes, accompanied by a reddned nose as your teary eyes glare at your boyfriend.

“You really think this is funny, huh?”

“Hilarious.” Akaashi replies evenly, examining your nose before kissing your tears away, showing you a rare, amused smile on his goregous features as you pout, turning away from him.

“I just wanted to experience the sport you love so much...”

Akaashi frowns, feeling a tad guilty before pulling you in by the waist gently, his lips finding the top of your head.

“I’m sorry for laughing. You’re just too cute I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”

“It’s okay. You hardly laugh anyway so it’s good to change things up.”

Akaashi clicks his tongue at the cheeky grin that spreads across your features, and his grip on your waist tightens the slightest as your hands rest on his chest.

“Oh. Look who’s not laughing now.” You feign shock as the setter rolls his eyes, his forehead touching yours.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“Close your eyes for me this time, will you? But do it on purpose.”

You scoff, yet do so as the setter feels you smile into the kiss as Akaashi Keiji finds himself falling for you just a little more deeper than usual.

Kuroo

“No. Of course I don’t want to try, you’re scary when you play.”

“Okay- but scary good, or scary bad?”

“Is scary good even a thing?”

You watch Kuroo smirk in the midst of tightening your shoelaces, frowning down at him when his feral eyes look up to meet your nervous stare. The captain stands, brushing some hair out of your face before pinching your cheek.

“Listen, kitten- I’m not going to let you get hurt, alright? It’s just blocking.”

You nod once, causing the captain to smirk a little before kissing where he had pinched, satisfied with the flush of pink to your cheeks.

“Good girl. I’m going to the opposite side, alright?” The captain smirks at you before doing so, and you shuffle nervously from side to side as Kuroo jogs away from you, standing in a spiking position.

“Okay- so when I spike, keep your arms up high and angle your fingers downward- even if you’re short you should be able to.” The captain smirks, knowing that last part would get you riled up as you puff your cheeks out.

“Just because everyone is shorter than you doesn’t make me especially short!”

“Understood, short-stack. You’re cute when you’re mad, so try and use that-hm?”

You flick him off with a sweet smile, causing Kuroo to put a hand over his heart.

“Aw, I love you too Y/N!”

“Just spike the ball, Tetsurou!”

Kuroo grins at the use of his first name- before doing so a tad gentler than usual, spiking with a lower jump to his legs as he aims downwards towards your hand-

The grin on the captain’s face widens at the result.

You yelp, running away from the ball as it comes as if it were on fire, causing Kuroo to burst out laughing like the asshole he is.

“Tetsurou what happened to not letting me get hurt?”

“Kitten- that was only like 40% of my strength-” Kuroo manages out between laughs as you cross your arms stubbornly, causing Kuroo to laugh even harder at your actually annoyed expression.

“That’s like 30% too much!”

“Right.” Kuroo grins, wiping a tear from his eye as he crosses over to you in four easy steps. “I’m sorry I’m as scary as you expected, kitten-”

Your eyes widen when Kuroo pulls you into a tight hug, nuzzling his nose into your shoulder as you find yourself pressed up against his chest, feeling your heartbeat increase wildly at the unexpected proximity.

“You’re way too adorable to practice with- so I’ll save my scariness for another day.”

“Oh bite me.” You huff.

“Gladly.” The captain grins, taking the opportunity to tilt your chin upwards to close the distance.

Oikawa

“Tooru, is this really okay?”

“I said it was Y/N-chan, I’m the captain!”

The brunette grins reassuringly at you as he tugs you into the gym, the lights automatically turning on as you hear him begin to unzip his jacket as you walk in.

“I bet all the girls love it when you bring them to your empty practice gym.” You comment sarcastically as Oikawa scoffs once, kind expression on his face as he unzips your own jacket for you as he helps you shrug it off, nuzzling his nose with yours cutely.

“As if. All the others would never agree to this.”

Your blank stare makes Oikawa retract his statement quickly, sweat dropping at the fact that his bad joke might have just landed him in hot water.

“Joking! It was a total joke Y/N-chan!”

“One of these days I will tell Hajime on you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Oikawa feigns a betrayed expression, causing you to laugh a little before the setter lifts your knuckle to his lips sweetly before jogging to grab a volleyball, returning to begin instructing your date together.

“Okay, so do we remember our terminology?”

“Tooru-”

“Right right, my genius girlfriend is so smart we don’t need to review it.” Oikawa waves it off, before entering a setting position. “I’m gonna set for you, and you’re gonna hit it as hard as you can, alright?”

“Until it breaks?” You offer, watching your boyfriend look surprised for a second before smirking slightly.

“Ignoring how incredibly sexy that was-” Oikawa clears his throat after your quoting of him. “Let’s give it a try, no? I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh please do.” You reply sassily as Oikawa shakes his head with a grin, loving every moment of this date before setting the ball-

deciding that maybe every moment of this date wasn’t worth loving.

Oikawa watches, shocked, as you suddenly squeal out of fear and dig your face into his chest as the ball comes down on your shaky hands-

scratch that thing about not loving every moment.

You flinch into his chest at the sound of the ball hitting the gym floor as a smirk slowly crosses the setter’s face, his hands stroking your hair soothingly as you blink, realizing what you had just done on instinct.

“We don’t talk about this.” You look up pointedly as Oikawa grins, taking the opportunity to place a chaste kiss on your forehead as his long arms wrap around your figure in a secured manner.

“I really do love you, you know that?”

“More than all the others?” You find yourself smiling.

“Stop talking like there are others.” Oikawa frowns, a hand cupping your cheek. “There’s only you, and it’s only you I want.”

“Good.” You say, brushing your noses together. “Because then we’d have a problem.”

“Are you not going to say you want me to?”

“Nah.”

“Oh Y/N.” Oikawa rolls his eyes, chocolate orbs gleaming. “You’ll drive me mad one day, but I don’t care.”

You smile as the setter finally kisses you, the ball bouncing again and again against the gym floor until it finally reaches its’ stop.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu anime #haikyuu iwaizumi #Iwaizumi Hajime #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi keiji #haikyuu akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa torū #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader

1K notes · View notes

elvendorx · 2 years ago

Note

i just dug up your posts about J&S and their dynamic on their own and within the Marauders four and I am simple enamored with everything you say, i would read a whole essay if you had one <333

also can i get 5 and 44 for the ask game?

Ahh thank you so much, I decided a while ago to post what I enjoy so it's nice that it resonates! I have lot of drafts and also some asks that are long overdue responses (my mind's a mess so they take a while to structure coherently but if you’ve ever sent me an ask, I'm not ignoring it I'm just incredibly slow!) so maybe those will do instead of essays?? (although I can’t control my word counts so maybe they’ll feel like essays💀)

Also I just realised you wrote Benefits which I loved! <33

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

This is lowkey tough. I don’t have too many pet peeves so much as things I don’t agree with but that I can skim over. Things that I flat-out won't read (mainly ships, and cis mpreg) are things I filter out anyway, I’m good at knowing what won’t work for me by now. It always comes down to characterisation for me, as soon as I stop believing in or recognising the character, I’m out. I do feel like I’m super picky with small things so I try to breeze past things that don’t hugely matter.

Like I often cringe at the way people write house-elves that aren’t in the series, especially house elf names? This is petty of me but “Tippy” and “Tiffy” make my skin crawl. Again, am I just being a mean pedant, but the names of house-elves in the series have harsher consonants - Hokey, Kreacher, Winky, Dobby. I also don’t really like reading about the Potters as having a house-elf because as much as they were rich and pureblood, they were clearly not part of the pureblood elite and I think they’d deviate from the more antiquated, traditional aspects of old wizarding families. In my head Fleamont and Euphemia are old rich hippies but it’s not really a make-or-break.

Dialogue can make or break a fic for me, and dialogue that is just there for the plot and doesn’t take on any traits of the person speaking it is something I struggle to stick with - again that’s characterisation, I struggle with OOC stuff but I also struggle when the characters are like, fine, but essentially blank slates who I wouldn’t recognise if I didn’t know who they were supposed to be.

44. Rant about something writing related.

God, my main writing rants are at myself. Like when I find something I wrote years ago (because I didn't write basically anything between 2017-2021) and I'm like "ooh this is good!" and I've left it halfway through a crucial sentence and because it's been years I can't remember where it was going and I have to abandon it because I don't have the mental room for another WIP right now. But also sometimes these pieces are helpful and fit into other things I’m working on, so swings and roundabouts.

And also just the way I write which is random scenes as they come to me, which I think isn’t an uncommon way to write but I would like it if I made it easier for myself and had a brain that could write chronologically. And I also wish I didn't forget the scenes/sentences I think of on public transport or when I'm in bed about to fall asleep.

More generally, I think the attitude towards writing in fandom needs recalibrating. Writing is a skill, editing is an important part of writing. Within fandom I think you should write for yourself, put what you want to see out there, but at the same time if you rush it and immediately publish it and then get upset that you haven’t had as much engagement as you’d like then maybe just take more time with your work, spend time with it, edit even if it’s just one word or letter at a time. Knowing where you’re headed also immediately makes your work more cohesive because I feel like it’s very clear when a writer has absolutely no idea and just wants to get the first chapter out there for the validation of it, or when a work jumps from one point to the other with no real character journey to get there and like yeah, the release at the end is great but the pay-off is better with the build-up. If it’s for fun and you don’t care, go for it, but I think there’s a lot of entitlement in writing these days that is unsustainable.

#ask #i try so hard to not be salty and mean anymore that i can't tell if this is mean or mild #i think it;s fine

5 notes · View notes

dingletragedy · 5 years ago

Note

Can you write something where Ben and Callum are getting it on (lol) and Ben starts to cry because he gets overwhelmed and can't hear Callum? Just thought it would be something that you would write really well :) x

i’m not sure if this is at all what you wanted anon but here’s a bot of hurt/comfort of you!!! thanks anon <33

The thing about being so close, so intimate, knowing each other so deeply, is that Ben is so easy to read, now.

And sometimes, he falls into these sporadic moods. They roll in quietly, like a brooding storm throughout the day, and by the afternoon, his eyes are distant and his shoulders are hunched in, and he plays with Callum’s hair idly and stares up at the ceiling with heavy breaths.

Ben is cheeky, sarcastic; he’s flirty and charming when he wants to be, eyes full and big. He sings loud and unashamed, watches the mouth of whoever is talking intently and speaks low. He’s responsive to the smallest of touches, pliant under Callum’s hands. He’s a wind-up, but to can charm the pants of anyone he wants.

And yet often, he’s the opposite. He’s closed in and quiet, distant and unaware, insecure and frightened. He’s an open book to Callum, and still, he remains the most private person he’s ever known.

So when his eyes cloud over, when Callum looks up from finishing another online police training course, and Ben is staring resolutely out the window, after lying awake for the majority of the previous night, shifting and breathing heavily and unknowingly keeping Callum up too, Callum doesn’t know why.

Callum settles his laptop on his bedside table, turns to cup a gentle a hand to Ben’s jaw and presses kisses there, plays with his hair and tries to get him to relax.

Ben has a book held above him, a title that Callum doesn’t recognise against an offensively bright cover. His hair is sticking up everywhere, and his glasses are pressed close to his nose. He looks soft, sleepy, vulnerable.

He’s been subdued all day, showing up to the cafe at lunch with soft bags under his eyes, claiming a fitful sleep. By dinner, he’d managed to convince Callum that he was absolutely fine, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and when Jay and Lola had dragged them along for a few evening drink in the Queen Vic, he sat silently in the corner and picked at a loose thread on his shirt.

As Callum pulls away from where his lips had found Ben’s neck, Ben moves the book away from his face slowly, so just his eyes are peeking over the top, silent and watching behind his glasses. Callum threads his hands into his hair slowly, scratching at his scalp, and Ben’s eyes flutter closed slowly as he breathes out. He lowers his book onto his stomach, tilting his head back a fraction.

Callum leans down and presses a delicate kiss to Ben’s forehead, hand still stroking his hair. He trails his lips down the bridge of his nose, so soft, then meets Ben’s mouth, warmth curling in his belly. Ben’s breath is hot and stuttered, Callum leans over him some more, tilting his head.

As their lips move together, Ben slowly rearranges his body, feet stretching down the bed and his whole torso shifting so they’re both facing upwards, so he can reach out and cup Callum’s jaw. He curls forward, curls towards Callum, and pulls him closer bit by bit.

They find a comfortable position eventually. Callum settled in Ben’s lap, still twirling Ben’s hair absently in his fingers, pushing down to lick into his mouth with a tease of his tongue, trying to get him to relax, to stop him tensing his shoulders. Ben’s hands smooth down Callum’s shoulder blades like honey, settling on his hips.

It’s then, with a slow release of breath, a shift of his hips, and a tight tug at the curls in his fingers, that Callum tips them over gently and gets his hands on Ben properly.

“You good?” Callum asks.

“Huh?”

Good? He signs to Ben in response.

“Oh,” Ben mumbles, cheeks flushed. “Yeah. I’m good. You?”

“I will be soon,” Callum responds, but it’s obvious from the puzzled look on ben’s fave that words fall flat between them. “You’re all tense, Ben.”

“Do something about it then,” Ben says, shifting his hips up impatiently.

“Hm,” Callum raises an eyebrow, teasing. Maybe I will.

They’re both so quiet then, and it feels slightly strange. The radio ebbs around them, but it’s lost on Callum’s ears as he cups Ben’s neck, his fingers meeting at his nape, and feels his pulse against his palms. It’s skyrocketing, thumping, and Callum can feel the tiny tremors of his shoulders, the pressure of his slick mouth and his hands squeezing Callum’s thighs.

He wants to relax him, Callum thinks. Wants to touch him soft and gentle and leave kisses on every inch of skin. Despite the extensive amount of time they’ve spent tangled together, each time feels new, his nerves pulsing with love and desire. Callum wants to strip him bare, wants to push him onto his back and suck mark after mark on his soft chest, between his thighs. He wants him sated and calm, far away from whatever’s troubling him.

“Want you,” Callum says between kisses. “So much.”

He grabs for the edge of Ben’s shirt and moves to tug it upward.

Ben flinches so suddenly, tears away abruptly, circles Callum’s wrists with an iron grip so hard that Callum lets out a sudden, surprised noise, heart slamming into his ribs. It hurts.

Ben’s head is bowed, his chest heaving suddenly.

“Ben,” Callum rasps in shock, blinking wide. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

He doesn’t reply, just continues breathing with a shaking chest, his shoulders quivering. His fingers tight around Callum’s wrists.

Ben,” he tries again. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me, please?”

He shuffles away, releasing the grip on Callum’s wrist. His face crumples, and he tucks his knees into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around his stomach, his fingers gripping the material of his shirt as he shakes. He looks so small, so broken, and Callum sits up slowly, unsure of what to do, unsure of what’s happened.

“I hate this,” Ben says, voice quiet and small. “I hate it so much.”

“We don’t have to do—God, Ben, I wouldn’t ever want to do anything that made you uncomfortable,” Callum tries to apologise desperately, feeling his throat thicken. “I’m so sorry.”

Ben lets out a quiet sound, sliding his glasses off to wipe at his eyes. He throws them onto the floor and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “It’s not that.”

His voice is choked and thick, muffled behind his knees. When he wraps his arms around his middle again, eyes devastatingly hollow and mouth scrunched up, he looks fragile and afraid. Callum doesn’t know how to fix it this time. He doesn’t know what to do.

“What is it then?” He asks softly, keeping his distance as Ben wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. He heaves in a shuddery breath, twin droplets sliding down his cheeks.

“I cant—,” He cuts himself off and clenches his eyes closed. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Ben, look at me,” he says, reaching a hand out. What’s wrong? He signs, hands slow and steady.

When Ben doesn’t respond straight away, Callum continues. “Ben, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, or say anything you don’t want to. We can just lay down for a while, go to sleep, if you’d prefer?”

“No, I—,” Ben blurts, scratchy and strangled, his chest still heaving. “I can’t hear you, and that’s the problem. It all just gets so much sometimes. No matter how hard I try, how much I concentre on your lips, and hands, there are moments, like these, now, when I can’t catch what you’re saying.”

As he speaks, he curls further and further into himself.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Callum shuffles forward quickly and pulls Ben’s hands away from where they’re digging into his knees, leaving marks, he rubs his thumbs over the knuckles. “Shh, you’re alright.”

He kisses over Ben’s fingers, hushing him and trying to calm him down. Hesitantly, he places a gentle hand on his back and rubs it in slow circles, worried he’ll scare him away.

“I’m sorry,” Callum says then, because maybe it’s irrational, but the guilt clawing at his stomach is unbearable. “I’ll talk slower, clearer, and I’ll sign, if it helps?”

“No,” Ben cries. “That’s the point, Callum. It wouldn’t work. And it ain’t how it should be, is it? You having to say everything twice, pulling away from me every five seconds just to talk. It ain’t practical, not when we’re, y’know?”

“It doesn’t matter, Ben,” Callum says, unsure of where he’s going with his. “Whether it’s practical or not, the main thing is that you feel comfortable, and safe.”

They sit there for what feels like forever, Ben’s back shifting under Callum’s palm, tears dripping along his jaw and from the tip of his nose when he bows his head. When Callum starts to runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face, Ben’s breathing starts to slow.

“But do you?” Ben asks then.

“Do I what?”

“Feel safe?” Ben questions, eyes worried, lip bitten redraw between his teeth. “With me? Here?”

“Of course I do,” Callum says, shocked. “You know I do, Ben.”

“But you could be saying anything,” Ben explains at the furrow in Callum’s brows. “In the moment, when it’s all heated and—you could be—could be telling me to stop, telling me you love me, anything at all, and I wouldn’t even know.”

“You know me though, don’t you? Callum says, waits for Ben’s nod of confirmation before continuing. “You know my body, my little ticks, what I like and what I don’t. You know my heart, Ben. And I know yours. That’ll always be enough.”

“You think?”

I know.

“When you put it like that.”

“It’s just you and me, yeah?” Callum goes again, because he wants to make this as comfortable, as normal, as possible for Ben. He closes his eyes, and continues, “it’s just you and me, in this room that’s become ours. There’s Bitter Sweet Symphony playing on the radio, it’s just started, still on that first stupidly long verse. There are a few stray cars travelling by, the engines rumbling through the open window, and there’s distant chatter pulling through too, but the voices are too far away to make out the words. The washing machine is on in the kitchen, spinning like crazy, the sounds vibrating up through the floor. And then there’s me, telling you that I want you, and that I love you. My voice all low and hoarse, that way it always gets when you’ve got your hands on me.”

When Callum opens his eyes again, he notices Ben’s are closed. Shut so tightly there are wrinkles around the edges. He’s got this new expression on his face, his mouth now morphing into a slow smile, crease fading in his brow.

He lets Ben breathe, lets him gather his thoughts.

He lets him paint a picture of unheard sounds.

Eventually, Ben takes in a wet, shuddering breath, and when he releases it, Callum’s heart fills with hope. “Thank you, Callum.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Callum protests. “I wish I could take your pain away, Ben, more than anything. But I need you to know this, you being deaf, it doesn’t change anything, not for us. You’re still you, and we’re still us.

Ben kisses him then, wet and shaky, but it’s the best kind of kiss, where Callum can feel every current of energy flying through him, flowing through Ben and back to him again, over and over. They grasp at each other gently in the dark, chests heaving.

Ben is almost panting into his mouth, breathless, lips mixed with salty tears.

“Lie back,” Callum says hoarsely, guiding him gently to the pillows. The air around them is static, their gazes magnetic, made to be drawn to each other. Ben follows Callum’s words hesitantly, eyes big and soft, reaching for him.

Callum lowers himself down his body slow, keeping their eyes connected always. He wants Ben to be comfortable with this.

You’re beautiful, Callum signs.

Cal,” Ben whispers. His hands find Callum’s shoulders.

You’re so strong, Callum kisses him again, moving down incrementally. He continues, murmuring praises into Ben’s skin as he moves, brave, inspiring, brilliant, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

Ben pulls him back up then, kisses Callum with purpose, with love, with everything. “I love you.”

I love you too, Callum draws on the skin of Ben’s stomach, with one single, strong finger. He parts their mouths once more, attaches his mouth to the spot he’d just drawn a heart, and presses one, gentle kiss to the sliver of skin there. He hooks his fingers under the band of Ben’s boxers, before looking up in question.

Ben is watching him intently. He gives Callum a tiny nod, and drops his head back to stare resolutely at the ceiling, swallowing thickly.

#this is very different for me and i'm feeling nervous about it #ben x callum #ballum #eastenders #asks #anon

99 notes · View notes

deity-of-calamity · 4 years ago

Text

Rules

(Posting this for mobile users)

Mun is 33

Muse is Demisexual and Bi romantic (leans towards men)

Muse Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

NO INCEST (By this I mean don’t bring it into rps with me. As I will not rp it. Selfcest is fine however.)

NO POLITICS (I never have, nor ever will, care for political bullshit. So I’d appreciate it if you kept that away from me while we rp. I come on here to get AWAY from real life stress. It’s not easy since I’m American and I have to hear about this regardless of how hard I try not to. But I’d really like it if you could keep it away from rping. Thanks.)

DON’T CONTROL MY MUSE (unless we plot it for an rp)

DON’T GIVE MY MUSE HEADCANONS (Ex: How they like the temperature, what kind of food they like, etc. I’m the one who ultimately decides what they want. Discussing it is fine but don’t automatically give them something I haven’t agreed to.)

NO SMUT WITH MINORS ( I MEAN IT. You’ll be blocked if you lie about your age)

I will rp NSFW (Mostly violence. Smut isn’t common but will be tagged/put under a read more if it happens. And even if it does, I prefer it to be with muns I trust and for it be as clean as possible.)

I’m okay with romantic relationships (but there needs to be chemistry. Bill is not an easy person to love)

Reply length: I am not very good with writing long replies. Let alone super long like paragraphs. However sometimes I can write long ones if I’m in the mood and can actually think of a lot to write. Typically I just try to have more than one sentence written out. But when it comes to an ask, those tend to be short because I have no idea if anyone wants to turn that into an rp. So if you do, either tell me or move it to a separate text post.

I’m mostly a just wing it rper and I don’t always make starters. But feel free to message me if you’d like to plot. I also rp based on my mood. Some days I may not be feeling certain muses and I’m sorry. Also real life stuff can be stressful at times and I tend to play games or listen to music to relax. I’m also an artist so I may draw too.

Please don’t pressure me about replies. I am trying to get to them as best I can.

Sometimes I’ll drop threads without warning. However it’s not usually on purpose as most of the time I’m trying to come up with a good response. Not everything is going to be an instant reply. I like to think of something if it’s a more thought provoking thread. Sometimes the reply might be long. Sometimes not.

I enjoy Hazbin Hotel content. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable but please don’t harass me about it. Just because I enjoy the characters and story, it does not make me a bad person and I am not going to waste my breath on people who only want to be jerks over it.

The way I portray Bill is a bit kinder than what most people may be used to. I am often anxious about how others will react to this but I felt the need to point out that mine is more of an angsty mess than just flat out heartless. He’ll also make a mention of Will here and there. This is mostly due to the close connection my Bill had with another person’s Will but I love the idea of the two being close. (Be it like brothers or even romantic)

This is just more of something I want to point out. I tend to rp Bill in a humanoid form, even if he’s in the mindscape and it’s more of a dream body. As I have no idea how to rp a triangle and I’ve been doing this type of form for a few years now.

Because I feel like it may not be very clear and I’m never sure of what to tag. The fact of the matter is, Bill is a dark character. So dark themes will be present. Especially psychological ones. I’ll still tag things like suicidal stuff and if it happens, smut, (though that’s not very likely unless I trust the mun and even then it’s got to be clean enough)

This one kind of falls in with the above. Bill is a villain and has abusive tendencies. Even if he forms a close relationship. He will try to restrain himself for a loved one but some aggression is to be expected. I guess a way to look at it is that Bill has Yandere habits with those he cares for. My version of Bill can be gentle but he has limits.

Shipping: I love ships. Can be platonic, romantic, etc.

UPDATE:

One: I have thought this over in the past. But now more than ever I’ve decided to add this into my rules.

I AM NOT A MEME RESOURCE. Please reblog memes/sentence starters from the original source. The only exception is if the source is deleted or can’t be found. If you reblog from me but don’t send me at least one thing in return, then don’t bother. The second exception is my friends. I don’t mind if they reblog from me. The third exception being that if you’re on mobile a lot or mobile only. I know it can be hard to find sources sometimes because of that. But I would PREFER if you sent me at least one thing instead of reblogging memes or sentence starters all the time.

Two: I am fine with Bill x older Dipper and Bill x older Mabel. But they MUST be 21 or older. I would say 18 like I have in the past but a lot of people seem to have issues with that as it’s still in the teens. Besides it makes rping drinking and possibly drug use (if your muse does either) easier to do since they’d be fully grown adults.

Three: This is more of just me wanting to speak on it. But I feel it needs to be said. Please don’t make your muse already know that Bill is bad or that he’s no good without much interaction. A bad feeling is fine but Bill is a master manipulator and I’d really like for people to remember that. Your muse can get bad feelings and feel suspicious but unless it’s someone from canon or a muse he’s been around for long enough, it’s not fair to throw him under the bus when they don’t actually know anything. The exceptions can be if your muse meets a Ford or one of the Pines and they talk about Bill. Or if they speak with some of the denizens from Gravity Falls. Other than that, they would only have information gathered from rumors.

Anything that would actually be on file would either be the Time Police or people from worlds affected by Bill. The most accurate stuff would be the Time Police though. And even then, top secret. So don’t just say your muse has something unless they have good connections. Even that has it’s limits but I also don’t want to just say the muses can’t have anything at all. Especially if they work for a government of some kind. That would be about the only way they could get something solid. Especially since Bill these days is presumed dead and gone.

Four: I work 5 days a week and even though it’s part time, sometimes I’m just too tired/sore to get to much during the week. I’ll try to get replies and stuff done but big stuff is usually best saved for the weekends. And Friday if I can manage that.

I understand if people have anxiety issues. So you can send me Just Gold or tell me you’ve read my rules. I’ll usually assume people who interact with me have but I like to be sure.

#re posting and re pinning my rules since I've updated them #outofcontracts

3 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 5 years ago

Text

Catch Me If You Can (34/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’m about to sit down to write some new words for the first time in about a month, and @shireness-says has permission to yell at me if I don’t. Now to decide what exactly I’m going to work on 🙈

Thanks to my beta @resident-of-storybrooke for reading all of these words and being a super cool and supportive human being.

Find on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 |

Tag list: @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings

-/-

September ends without anyone ever really noticing. The weather seems to get the hint, though, the daily temperatures in the eighties dipping down to the sixties for the high, and suddenly New York no longer feels and smells like melting concrete.

In truth, it’s amazing.

Killian loves summer and loves the feel of the sunshine beating down on his skin as he spends his days standing out on a baseball field, but there’s something special that happens when the leaves begin to change and the air has a crisp feel to it when he walks out of his apartment in the mornings to go to do his workouts or to physical therapy. It’s nice not to sweat as soon as he goes outside, and it’s even nicer to have the feeling that washes over him to know that his team is in the play-offs.

That starts today.

Nervous energy radiates over Killian, more than usual, and he’s not even playing today. He can’t quite yet, but he’s been approved to practice again and if all of that goes well, he’ll be able to play during the Championship Series which means he’ll qualify to play for the World Series.

If those things happen.

He’s getting ahead of himself. He tends to do that, especially lately when so much of his life is wanting and waiting for the future, and Killian definitely needs to put on the breaks.

But the smell of cinnamon is wafting through his apartment, the television is playing pre-game shows for the start of the Division Series today, and Emma is wandering around in a pair of thick socks pulled halfway up her calves with only an oversized sweater on and her curly blonde hair falling down her back in all of its unbrushed glory.

It’s been a crazy two and a half weeks full of them dealing with the fallout from the article and all of the trickle-down effects from it. Everything has been difficult. He won’t lie about that, but things are calming down a little more each day. Walsh has officially been fired from ESPN, and while Killian was tempted to take back his decision to not sue after Emma told him how Walsh confronted her in his office, he did eventually decide against it. The man isn’t worth it.

Contacting his father to confront him isn’t worth it either.

Killian thought about it, paced back and forth in his living room for hours thinking about it, but like he and Emma (and Liam and Elsa and David and Anna and Robin and every other person he knows) keep talking about, they want a reaction out of the two of them. They want to hurt them, and reacting in any ways more than absolutely necessary means that the bad guys win.

His father is not going to win. He’s taken enough. He won’t take anymore.

And if the pattern of photographers slowly disappearing from outside of his apartment door is going to be a pattern that continues, he thinks things will turn out just fine.

What crazy path to have to go through to get to fine.

His phone buzzes on the counter next to where he’s whipping together some oatmeal raisin cookies, much to Emma’s dismay since she insisted on him using chocolate chips instead of raisins.

She’ll never learn.

Robin: Are you coming to the game tonight?

Killian: Yep. I’ll be there. You didn’t think I was going to miss this, did you?

Robin: Possibly. Roland is very concerned that you’re not going to give us one of your famous pre-game talks, and we’re going to lose.

Killian: Tell Roland that I am giving a speech, if you guys still let me, and then I will be in the suite watching with him.

Robin: We’ll definitely still let you. I can’t wait for you to come back. It’s been too long.

Killian: Aye, it has. Soon though. You guys have to win so I don’t have to wait until March to come back.

Robin: I’ll try my best but no promises.

“How do you feel about this for the centerpiece on your dining room table?”

“Hmm?”

Emma slides her laptop across the island to show him her monitor’s screen where there are several artificial pumpkins and faux foliage in a long wooden tray.

“What’s this for again?”

Emma rolls her eyes at him, and he can’t help but smile at her as he cracks an egg over the edge of his bowl. “You said you were thinking about hosting Thanksgiving here. Your apartment is a very ‘a single man lives here’ place. I was thinking you might need something to make it more festive on the folding table you’re going to have to bring in here to accommodate everyone.”

“It’s October fourth.”

“And?”

“It’s October fourth.”

Emma huffs and reaches over to the bag of chocolate chips (okay, so he broke down and is making some with chocolate chips for her but only some) and grabs a few, popping them into her mouth. “I am aware of the date, Professor Jones.” He sticks his tongue out at her for her use of Will’s nickname. “I can’t look at my game notes anymore without going crazy, so obviously I’m online shopping for you to distract myself.”

“I mean, obviously. What else would you do to waste your time away?”

“Watch TV or go back to sleep. I could go pluck my eyebrows or read a book. But then I won’t know when the cookies are ready, and that’s all I’m really here for.”

“It’s going to be thirty minutes. Technically, I should refrigerate the dough for a day instead of popping it in the oven right away. It makes the cookies fluffier.”

“Yeah, but that’s too long.”

“Give me ten minutes, and I will come and look at your decorations that you’ve picked out for Thanksgiving, aye?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Emma tells him as she gives him a mock salute and turns around to walk toward the couch, unceremoniously falling backwards down onto the couch so that her legs hang off the side.

Insane, wonderful woman.

Killian hums to himself as he finishes making the cookie dough, and even though he should let it cool for longer than this, he simply puts the bowl on a shelf in the fridge and turns the oven on, the number six flashing up on the menu to tell him it’ll be finished preheating in six minutes.

Emma’s still lounging on the couch, all of her attention focused on the pre-game show that’s on the TV and her fall decorations, and he takes the opportunity to lean down over her, pressing his hands into the soft material of the couch on either side of her shoulders and to dip his head down so that he can sweep his tongue into her mouth. She gasps at the sudden movement, even if she opened for him, and it causes him to smirk down at her as she shifts beneath him, giving him more space to settle between her legs with his knees on the couch. It’s a bit of awkward movement getting settled, especially with how Emma was laying down to begin with, but they figure it out soon enough as his hand snakes up underneath her sweater to feel the soft skin of her stomach and the firm flesh of her breast. He flicks his thumb against her nipple at the same time that he finally gets to sweep his tongue against hers once more, and he’s overwhelmed by the taste of chocolate.

She’s obviously been sneaking in a little more than he thought she was.

“How many chocolate chips have you eaten?” Killian chuckles as he palms her breast while her nails scratch just above the waistband of his shorts.

“That’s not important.”

He teasingly flicks her nipple. “But it is.”

“Nope,” she mumbles with this undeniable joy in her voice. “It isn’t.”

Sometimes he still can’t believe that Emma is his to kiss and to hold and to laugh with. There have been a million and one obstacles along the way, things he never even could have imagined, and yet they are still here.

Together.

Emma’s fingers dip between the waistband of his shorts, and he hisses at her touch before reaching his free hand up to tangle in her hair and kissing her with a purpose. She’s so damn soft and warm against him, every movement of her lips and her tongue sending a shiver down each of the vertebrae that make up his spine as her hands ghost over his growing arousal.

“Bloody hell, love.”

“That’s what you get for judging my chocolate consumption.”

He huffs against her and trails his lips over her jaw and down to behind her ear while his hand moves from her breast to lay flat against her stomach to keep her from writhing below him so much.

“You know I don’t like chocolate too much,” he says into her ear before biting down onto the lobe.

“But you like me.”

“Aye,” he chuckles before biting down a little possessively onto the skin of her neck right in a spot that he knows will show above the dress she’s wearing today, “that I do.”

“Don’t leave a mark.”

“I’m not leaving a mark.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not,” he whispers against the warmth of her skin while he purposely does keep working where she doesn’t want him to work at her skin. He won’t actually leave a mark.

Emma gasps in pleasure before moving her hands away from his waist and up to his chest to push at him. She’s strong, he’ll give her that any and every day of the week, but he’s larger than her and manages to press all of his weight down on top of her while he stops sucking a mark into her skin and simple laughs into her ear while his entire body rumbles with amusement.

“You,” she huffs, but Killian can still hear the smile in her face and feel her lips softly brush into the hollow of his throat, “are the most obnoxious man on the planet.”

“I know. I have the trophy in my bedroom.”

“Stop,” she groans, pushing at him again, and this time he listens, moving off of her and the couch only to pull her up with him. It’s probably a little too much on his shoulder, but Emma is a little slight thing and he’s feeling good this morning. She stumbles a bit when she stands, but he wraps his hands around her lower back and tugs her closer to him so that their chests are pressed together and Emma’s arms are loosely wrapped around his neck while she smiles one of the biggest smiles he’s ever seen that he absolutely has to taste. “You know, I thought this was going to go in a very different direction.”

The oven beeps behind him, and Killian dips his head down to pepper kisses across Emma’s cheek and over her mouth so quickly that every kiss is as fleeting as a whisper of air. “I had a timer going for those cookies that you keep complaining about. There was never going to be time for that.”

Her eyes roll as her fingers thread into the hair at the nape of his neck as Killian starts walking them back to the kitchen. “It’s not nice to tease a woman into thinking that she’s going to get some action and it turns out she’s only getting cookies.”

“That sounds like a euphemism.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm, it should have been,” he laughs as he backs Emma up into the countertop so that he knows the stone is digging into her lower back. Killian squeezes her hips before running his hands down to her bare thighs and holding her there while his forehead presses against hers and their noses brush together. “I love you quite a lot, you know?”

“Funny thing, I love you quite a lot too. I also love cookies, so get on that, babe.”

“I thought you didn’t like that they were oatmeal.”

“I will literally eat anything. Also, I already ordered the centerpieces for Thanksgiving.”

“I expected nothing less.”

They spend the rest of the morning piddling around the apartment, not really getting anything accomplished before they both have to get ready to go. Emma, by nature of having to curl her hair and apply her makeup, takes much longer than him to get ready, so he straightens up a little before they leave. Emma’s things seem to spread like wildfire, and he’s not entirely sure she’ll ever be able to clean up after herself.

He doesn’t know how Ruby and Graham deal with it.

Then again, they don’t have to too often anymore.

A little smile creeps onto his face at the thought, his mind recalling Emma making a joke about them living together a few weeks ago, and that’s precisely when Emma walks out of the bathroom wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans with suede boots that go up to her thighs and a tight-fitting white sweater with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

“What?” she asks as she puts in a pair of dangling gold earrings in her ear. “Why do you have that goofy little smile on my face?”

“I was just thinking about how undeniably smoking hot my girlfriend is.”

Emma huffs and keeps putting her earrings in. “Those aren’t your usual eloquent words.”

“You’ve rendered me speechless today.”

Emma walks toward him, a sweet smile on her face, and leans down to press her hands on his shoulder and squeeze. “Good.”

And then she’s walking away from him with a pointed sway of her hips that has her ass looking absolutely spectacular. “Minx.”

“I try,” she yells from the hallway. “Come on, Jones. We’ve got a baseball game to go to, and I have to be early.”

-/-

They easily win the game against the Astros that night.

They also win the next night, even if it’s much more of a nail bitter. Killian swears that watching it from the sidelines is a million times more nerve-wracking than actually being an active participant. He feels every little mistake magnified, and his mind focuses on the mistakes more than it usually does. Instead of being able to compartmentalize, Killian keeps replaying everything to figure out how they could have done things better.

He can’t change the past, but there are always improvements to be made in the future.

Focusing on the entire game instead of simply his pitching changes the perspective, and he’s going to lose all of his nails if he has to continue completely watching from up in the family suite instead of getting to be a part of the action every few days. Belle and Ariel are fine to watch with and all, but it’s not what he’s grown used to.

The past six weeks haven’t been too terribly bad, at least recovery wise, but now that they’re one win away from moving on from the Division Series to the Championship Series, Killian isn’t sure that he can wait much longer to get back out on the field for something other than practice.

“Be patient,” Emma always tells him.

He’s trying, but it’s damn hard.

Off to Houston they go.

-/-

“Do you know we’ve been together for six months, and this is technically our first date?”

“And you only had to follow me to Texas for us to accomplish it.”

“You’re a very cheap date.”

Emma laughs as she hooks her arm into the crook of his elbow and walks a little closer to him while they walk down the sidewalk in downtown Houston. They’ve only been in town for two hours, and while the rest of his team is at the fields practicing for tomorrow’s game in what they all hope will be the last game of this particular series so they can get one step closer to the World Series.

He doesn’t even technically have to be here since he’s still on the injury list, and while the team didn’t pay for him to have a room at the hotel, he’s set in being able to stay with Emma.

So while the guys all work their asses off, he and Emma are free to wander around completely freely for the first time, well, ever.

It’s odd still not having to worry about anyone knowing that they’re together. He’s still accustomed to looking over his shoulder and around every corner for someone they know or for some inane photographer to be there. And while things are still a little crazy back home, no one is paying them any attention here.

And since Emma was very rudely heckled by a few fans (though that term is used loosely) at yesterday’s game, Killian is thankful to simply be able to get away from it all. They’re doing a damn good job at dealing with things, but there’s no need to feel the weight of the world on their shoulders – especially his if he thinks of it literally – all the time.

“So,” Emma starts as they dodge a slight puddle on the concrete, “are you still not going to tell me what we’re doing tonight?”

“Nope. I know how to plan an evening. You simply have to trust me.”

“I obviously trust you, you weirdo, but I’m curious. All I’ve figured out was that we’re not going to some stuffy restaurant, which was kind of a surprise to me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re a romantic, Mr. Jones,” Emma sighs while she pats his forearm and rests her cheek against his shoulder. “You like to do things like get all dressed up and go to a candlelight dinner with wine and flowers and really expensive small food.”

Killian scoffs, incredulous. “That is not the only way to be romantic. Besides, we are not dressed for something like that. I don’t think they let in people with ripped jeans and white sneakers on.”

“Yeah, well, this is how you told me to dress. And you have on a plaid shirt over a t-shirt, so you’re not exactly dressed up either.”

“I thought you liked it when I dressed like this. Are you complaining?”

“No, Killian,” Emma breathes out, and he can practically feel the smile in her face, “I am not complaining. I simply want to know where we’re going.”

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to guide Emma along the sidewalk and follow the path that his phone told him to take. He swears that the GPS is leading him in circles and not to the destination, but then he sees the sign a bit of a way away and lets out a little sigh of relief.

“Swan,” he starts, stopping them in their tracks and placing his hands on her hips while a smirk stretches across his face, “you may not be a candlelight dinner kind of girl, but you are very much a smash old pieces of furniture up with a hammer kind of girl.”

Both of her brows raise high on her forehead. “What?” He nods his head to the building in front of them, and she turns around to look. It takes approximately five seconds for her to figure out. She spins on her toes and looks up at him with a smile that he swears reaches her ears. “I have never loved you more than I love you right now.”

“Exactly my intention.” He winks and places his hands on her ass, pushing her forward. “Now, come on, love. We’ve got a reservation.”

They hurry inside where Killian checks them in, and a woman comes out with safety equipment for them to slip into. They both look ridiculous wearing body suits and face masks to protect themselves from any flying shards of glass or pieces of wood from the broken downbroken-down furniture that they’re about to smash. Killian had simply been looking up things to do in Houston when he found this place where people pay to destroy furniture. Immediately, he knew Emma would love it, so he booked a reservation after texting Archie and making sure that his shoulder would be okay to wield a hammer.

From the absolute beaming joy on Emma’s face, he knows that he was right in his assumption of her loving this.

The room they get assigned to destroy is ironically a set-up of an old newspaper production office, and Killian is sure that Emma is very much pretending that all of the items in here belong to Walsh or his father or any other bastard who has hurt the two of them recently or in all of their years of life.

Smashing a hammer into a computer that has to be from the nineties is quite possibly the most cathartic thing that Killian has ever done.

Fuck Brennan Jones, Walsh Osbourne, Arthur King, and every other person who has ever hurt either of them.

And after the ten minutes of their session, Killian’s arms hurt from the exertion and his stomach hurts from the laughter of it all.

Totally worth it.

“Oh my God,” Emma breathes out when they walk out of the building back and into the crisp autumn air. They’re back in their regular clothes, sweat dripping down both of their backs, and their hair will likely never be normal again. “I take back all of my teasing about you having us go to some stuffy dinner. All of it.”

“Technically, there’s still time for us to go to one of those. It’s only eight.”

“Don’t even mess with me like that,” Emma laughs before pressing up on her toes to brush her lips over his. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to going to get something to eat.”

“I’ve got a plan for that.”

“You think of everything.”

“That I do.”

It’s a pie place two blocks over. He came here the last time they were in Houston and has been wanting to come back ever since. Pies usually aren’t his favorite thing, probably why he doesn’t bake them too often, but this place is downright delicious.

He’s also glad his workouts are back to being regular because the slices of rhubarb and key lime pie that he and Emma get are practically bigger than Emma’s head, and he fully plans on enjoying all of it.

Emma is taking large bites out of both her pie and his, as well as sipping on her mug of hot cholate, while telling him this story about David and Mary Margaret and how they have a penchant for going to karaoke bars on their date nights but usually only when they’ve had a few drinks. David is always willing to go, funnily enough, but Mary Margaret who seems like the exact type of person to enjoy singing songs and letting birds dress her in the mornings, will only go when she’s had at least two margaritas.

And for some reason they always sing We Are The Champions as if they have the vocal range of Freddie Mercury even when they’re not sober.

Killian would pay big money to see David Nolan, the perennial serious guy and protective older brother, willingly go and sing karaoke. In fact, he is very much offering to take the Nolans out one night when he gets more free time.

The smile that’s on Emma’s face mirrors the one she’s had all night, and Killian’s heart is suddenly struck with how much he loves her. She came into his life like a whirlwind, even if it was a slow going one, and Killian hasn’t looked back since.

It’s a funny thing. Love, that is. The world can be going up in flames around you with broken shards of glass having a trajectory straight to your heart, but none of that seems to truly matter when the person you’ve been vulnerable enough to give your heart to has a firm enough grip on it so that the cuts seem a little less deep.

Killian’s been in love before, and even though that relationship didn’t end well, he does know that it was love. But it’s not like this. It’s not this all-consuming thing where Killian can’t imagine living life eating pie in a diner with anyone else.

He’s known for a good while that his future, whatever it may look like, is going to be with Emma, but for some reason sitting with her and laughing with her while she’s got the smallest bit of whipped cream on the tip of her nose has truly cemented the idea in his mind.

And his heart.

Emma waves her fork in the air as she chews. “You’ve got that goofy smile on your face again.”

“I know not to which you are referring.”

She scrunches up her nose. “You’re thinking about David singing karaoke, aren’t you?”

“You know what, my love,” he sighs, “that’s exactly what I’m thinking about.”

“You know,” Emma sighs as she smiles at him with her fork full of pie, “that is a pretty good first date even though it’s not really our first date. I think I might like you, Killian Jones.”

Killian scoops up a bit of his pie. “Does that mean there’s going to be a second date?”

“And possibly a third, but don’t think that means I’m going to sleep with you.” She winks at him, and he can’t help but laugh. “A lady likes to be courted first.”

-/-

They win the next day.

Four more wins, and they’re going to the World Series.

It’s almost unreal, and yet it very much is real.

They’ve just got to beat the Red Sox first.

-/-

“Are you nervous?” Liam asks Killian two days later as he sits on the examination table in the hospital waiting for his doctor to come in with the results of his six-week follow-up MRI and the reports from Archie on how his shoulder’s movement is recovering.

He’s barely felt any pain in the past two weeks besides the occasional twinge, and while Killian has tried to tamper down the hope that things are going to be okay, it hasn’t worked. His mind is already imagining him underneath stadium lights standing on that mound with thousands of people cheering around him.

That’s one of the things that he lives for. Not the only thing but a damn important thing.

And he wants to be back.

He needs to be back.

“Yes and no,” Killian tells his brother as his fingers tap against his thigh. “You didn’t have to come and wait for me, you know? I know you have your own patients.”

Liam shrugs his shoulder and sits down in the chair they leave for guests. “You said Emma couldn’t get out of a meeting at work, so I figured you’d want someone to be here.”

“I’m a grown man. I can handle going to the doctor by myself.”

“The fact that we’re in here right proves that isn’t true.”

“Ass,” Killian mumbles underneath his breath.

“I’ve made no claims to be anything else.” Liam looks damn proud of himself for having annoyed Killian, and it seems par for the course of things. “Are you surprised we haven’t heard anymore from Brennan?”

Killian’s teeth grind at just the sound of the name, but he quickly unclenches his jaw. “No. He wanted a reaction and more money. He didn’t get it. All that came from the bloody article was that I got followed around by cameras for three weeks and Emma had to put up with shit from men who are nothing more than assholes. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking about it is all. Mom’s birthday is tomorrow, and that always makes me think of growing up, you know? I’m so much older than you and had such a different experience with them, and I do get a bit sentimental even if our father ended up simply being an over-involved sperm donor.”

“Funny, that’s how Elsa describes you.”

Liam reaches into the box of rubber gloves and snaps one at Killian only for him to catch it and for a smirk to slowly stretch across his lips. “And you call me an ass.”

“Being an ass is simply in our blood.”

“And yet two of the most incredible women in the world have chosen to spend their lives with us.”

Killian raises a brow. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

“No,” Liam chuckles, spinning in the chair. “I didn’t mean anything like that. Emma isn’t filing marriage papers or anything. I simply mean that the two of us, screw-ups that we are, have managed to get pretty lucky with both Elsa and Emma. It’s a big commitment to be stuck with a Jones man.”

“Ah,” Killian sheepishly sighs while reaching up to scratch behind his ear, “well, like you said, Emma isn’t technically stuck with me.”

“No?”

“No.” “And yet she wears mom’s ring around her neck. You hadn’t taken that off in years, and suddenly I see someone else wearing it.”

“Yep.”

“Yep? All you have to say to that is yep?”

“Aye,” he laughs, suddenly feeling a bit shier than he has in years. And it’s in front of Liam of all people. He hasn’t been shy in front of Liam in years. “Is that…are you upset about that?”

Liam’s brow pinch together, all of the lines on his forehead focusing in one place before they fall back to their normal spot and a soft smile graces his lips. “No, Killian, I’m not. I…there was a reason we each got the same amount of mom’s jewelry. She wanted us to give the pieces to the women we love. I’ve given pieces to Elsa, and you’ve given a piece to Emma. Mom would like that.”

“Would she? Do you think she’d like Emma?”

“She’d be obsessed with her. I think she may love her more than Addy and Lucy combined love Emma.”

Killian snickers as warmth spreads across his cheeks and his head nods up and down. “That’s a lot of love there.”

“There was a lot of love in her heart.”

His mouth opens to say something else, but then the door to the exam room is opening and Killian’s doctor is walking in with a clipboard and absolutely no emotion on his face.

“Do you want the good news or the good news?” he asks, and Killian’s heart leaps.

“Both.”

“Well,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, “as long as you continue to monitor your shoulder, you’re cleared to play again. Congratulations, Mr. Jones.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan #captain swan ff

95 notes · View notes

basscannonjack · 4 years ago

Note

1-100 SPEED RUN

Ama. How could you do this to me

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

Lactose intolerant, only eat cereal dry

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

yes, but not for too long

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

i just try to remember lmao

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

don’t like coffee, drink tea plain or with some sugar

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

not as much as I used to be!

6: do you keep plants?

I have one (1) cactus that I haven’t killed in the 9 years I’ve had it

7: do you name your plants?

sometimes!

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

music or writing

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

ALWAYS

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

I generally fall asleep on my stomach and wake up on my back

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends?

I HAVE YOU NOW

12: what's your favorite planet?

Neptune, probably!

13: what's something that made you smile today?

my SON asking me ALL THE QUESTIONS

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

oh god, probably a bit of a mess

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

the ISS was launched on the day of my birth, so it’s been in space *literally* my entire life

16: what's your favorite pasta dish?

just plain ol’ chicken alfredo

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

keeping it silver baybeee

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

oh man, there are so many, but i’ll go with the time that Roman got coke to fizz through my nose by making me laugh too hard

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

no journal, only very similar looking notebooks to doodle and write in

20: what's your favorite eye color?

hazel!

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

my Bag of Holding! snapped the clasp on it a few years back though

22: are you a morning person?

not at all!

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

SLEEP

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

Ashe, of course

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?

I had to break into my own safe at my old job, does that count?

26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

I’d say my boots, but I just got a new set, so the older ones

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?

Spearmint or wintergreen

28: sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

I just love seeing my friends blush

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

yes, I won’t go into detail

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

SOCKS SOCKS SOCKS I used to collect weird socks, now I just have a bunch of fun dress socks lmao

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

driving everyone home at 4 am and seeing other people on the road and going “you should be in bed!” at them

33: what's your fave pastry?

lemon meringue pie

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

Teddy a winnie the pooh bear that I still have!

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I adore new pens

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

uhhhh I’ve been listening to a lot of Rise Against and ABBA lmao

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

messy

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

nearly anything my brother does

39: what color do you wear the most?

black or blue

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?

my claddagh ring from my grandmother, i don’t have much else from her

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving?

not the last book but there was one about a girl having a single dragon finger that I remember reading so many times that I unfortunately don’t know the name of, or the Tamora Pierce Lioness series

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

Don’t like coffee!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

James <3

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

I do not :’)

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

not as much as I probably should

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

I’ve been changing my username to a different halloween themed pun for all of October, I’m all burnt out

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

Balut, it icks me out

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

heights, and yes :’)

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

I got a record player fairly recently, I have some P!atD ones, Foo Fighters, and Imagine Dragons

50: what's an odd thing you collect?

rocks

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

Bitch by Meredith Brooks for my eldest sister

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

the ones we’ve made in our server

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

all of the above except Pulp Fiction, I’m not really a movie person but I *am* a musical person

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

my dad

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?

Cotton Eyed Joe in six inch heels

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

honesty and passion in an interest

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

I just vibe and belt, y’know

58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

can they both be me

59: what's your favorite myth?

the soup with a rock in it!

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

Where the Sidewalk Ends was always a good one

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?

a coffee cup drinking horn for my dad, and some painted rocks from my brother

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

it would be apple juice if I did

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

not at all

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

greyish, the sun is just about to rise

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with?

My eldest sister

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

ROSES

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

give them to me, I love them

68: what's winter like where you live?

COLD

69: what are your favorite board games?

Monopoly and LIFE

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

no thanks

71: what's your favorite kind of tea?

raspberry or orange for fruit and mint

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

no, but I do write things down anyways

73: what are some of your worst habits?

I lose things all the time

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

STARDUST SOULMATE

75: tell us about your pets!

I have a Min Pin named Lily

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?

Sleeping

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

pink

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

*insert ick emoji*

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

decorated my band locker to celebrate my birthday

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

beige, but I hung up a bunch of posters!

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

when the sun hits very rich dirt where a tree used to be

82: are/were you good in school?

best in class in math with a 101.8 but I also rarely did homework so uh

83: what's some of your favorite album art?

Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

Dragon on the shoulder blade, roses on the left arm, Exalt on the right

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

webcomics! Barbarous, currently

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

:? not sure what that means

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

TREASURE PLANET

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

nope!

89: are you close to your parents?

my dad!

90: talk about your one of your favorite cities.

don’t really have a favorite, in all honesty

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

I was supposed to go see Ashe for their birthday but maybe next year!

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

CHEESE CHEESE CHEESE

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most?

uhhh it’s usually short enough to do nothing lmao

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

I have a friend’s bday tomorrow!

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

WORK

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

bit of both

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

INTP, Scorpio, Ravenclaw

98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

last year? maybe the one before? I did! but my heart didn’t

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

How Far We’ve Come, Matchbox Twenty

The Call, Backstreet Boys

I2I, from the Goofy Movie Soundtrack (lmao)

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

the future! I’ve had my time in the past, no changing it now

#ama i love and care about you so much darlin'#but this pains me #my dear sunchild

4 notes · View notes

kinglegolas · 4 years ago

Text

Dig a little deeper

tagged by @gcralts (tysm liibby! 💞✨💗)

1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? black

2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? city

3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? piano! or learn some new languages. also improve my guitar playing

4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? tea - no, coffee - yes if it’s just instant, but i usually get caramel lattes when i’m out so no need for more sugar!

5. what was your favorite book as a child? when i was really little i had one of those lift-the-flap books called where’s my kitten? and i LOVED it

6. do you prefer baths or showers? i do love a bath but i always end making them too hot and i start sweating lol so showers

7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? a witch babey!

8. paper or electronic books? paper 100%! electronic books hurt my eyes

9. what is your favorite item of clothing? i have a really nice blue cable knit jumper that i love! also just love a good hoodie!

10. do you like your name? would you like to change it? not really. i think i would like it more if i could go by stevie but everyone has called me steph my whole life so it’d be weird to change. but if i could fully change my name i’d change it to alice bc it was my nana’s middle name and i just think it’s a nice name!

11. who is a mentor to you? i can’t really think of anyone tbh? i think there are quite a few people that seem to really have their life together and i’m just like wow could never be me but i admire them a lot, like one of my best friends is just fully living her best life and i want that lol

12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for? yes but also no lmao, i think it would suck a lot of the time in terms of like zero privacy and constantly being critiqued for literally everything. but like low key i’m always like i wish i could be an actress lmao. never gonna happen tho bc i have zero confidence anyways but whatever.

13. are you a restless sleeper? i mean i take AGES to fall asleep and it SUCKS and i can’t sleep if there are too many noises or there’s too much light and like, everything wakes me up so i guess lol

14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? i probably am but haven’t had a chance to find out for real lol

15. which element best represents you? earth i guess?

16. who do you want to be closer to? my brother tbh

17. do you miss someone at the moment? my family

18. tell us about an early childhood memory. playing video games with my brother (which essentially was just me watching him play grand theft auto and gran turismo and him sometimes letting me play but i sucked at driving lmao)

19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten? i can’t think of anything

20. what are you most thankful for? my friends and family

21. do you like spicy food? it depends lol

22. have you ever met someone famous? yes, i met ed sheeran for like 2 seconds outside a radio station and got a pic with him; i met karen gillan at armaggedon (basically the nz equivalent of a low-budget comic-con); and i met niall horan at a m&g before his show

23. do you keep a diary or journal? nope. i’ve tried in the past but i always forgot to write in it lol

24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil? pen

25. what is your star sign? gemini

26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? crunchy! i hate when my cereal gets soggy!

27. what would you want your legacy to be? i can’t answer this bc i have no idea what i’m doing with my life and thinking too much about it is depressing lol

28. do you like reading? What was the last book you read? hell yes! i just finished always and forever, lara jean by jenny han and i’m currently reading sapphire blue by kerstin gier

29. how do you show someone you love them? letting them know i’m here for them, sending them links to stuff i think they’d like/find funny

30. do you like ice in your drinks? sometimes, as long as it’s not like, basically the entire drink

31. what are you afraid of? spiders, dying, being alone forever (lookin’ highly likely lol)

32. what is your favorite scent? vanilla, lavender, the smell of rain

33. do you address older people by their name or surname? first name mostly i think?

34. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? a LOT of travelling!!! also buying stuff for other people

35. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? neither bc i can’t swim lol

36. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? Depends on the context. If I found $50 on the ground but I know that someone has lost it, I give the money back to the person. If I don’t know whose money is that, I keep it to myself. (keeping this answer bc same)

37. have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? yes and yes

38. what is one thing you would want to teach your children? don’t every be afraid to express your emotions, let them out. whatever you’re feeling is valid (keeping this bc same)

39. if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? i want to get a daisy tattoo, either on my wrist or below my inner elbow

40. what can you hear now? well i’m listening to the wallows so that

41. where do you feel the safest? home

42. what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? honestly i just want to find out what i’m supposed to do with my life lol

43. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? idek either some time in like the 19th century or just like, the 70s or 80s lol

44. what is your most used emoji? “🥺”

45. describe yourself using one word. kind

46. what do you regret the most? god, a lot of things lol

47. last movie you saw? at the movies it was knives out (which was NOVEMBER LAST YEAR WTF), but not at the movies was to all the boys i’ve loved before

48. last tv show you watched? survivor lmao my flat mates and i are OBSESSED

49. invent a word and its meaning. i’ve not got the energy to be creative enough to do this rn lmao

tagging: @obiliviate @impractical-matters @poscidon @padmeamdala @euphcme @captleia @grayson-dick @ewangmcgregor + anyone else who wants to do this (feel free to ignore! x)

#tag games #about me

7 notes · View notes

norcumii · 6 years ago

Text

Yet more meta from the prior tumblr, originally posted on 12/11/2017.

Mmkay. There’s this post floating around about Obi-Wan’s characterization (link coming up in a minute). I want it on the record that I am all for people characterizing fictional characters however they want, on whatever criteria they have including “because I was in the mood for it,” ‘cause going ‘there’s only one true interpretation’ is totally a dick move.

Nonetheless this post has been slowly driving me bonkers so I’m trying to do the polite thing and make my own post deconstructing it rather than adding to theirs.

Hell, it starts off with “Please can someone explain to me why there’s this fandom thing where Obi Wan is nothing but angst and sads for 20 straight years on Tatooine?”

You betcha.

First off, OP is basing character assessment on the Myers–Briggs Type Indicator. Look. I enjoy personality tests as much as the next person, but that thing is just as useful to behavior prediction as a Facebook quiz about which Disney Princess you are. Here’s a nice convenient article about why which a minimum of digging on Google netted me. MBTI presents archtypes that are sometimes useful for casual commentary, but that is not a diagnostic tool.

So let’s take a look at Obi-Wan, as we see in the movies (and Clone Wars), just after Revenge of the Sith. We have a man who is anywhere from 33 to 38 years old (depending on your version of canon), who has spent the last three years overworking himself at the heart of a hideous civil war that he was essentially drafted for, and oh yes, his side lost. Not only did his side lose, but it got massacred. Yoda was able to feel the death of the Jedi Order as it was happening, do not tell me that Obi-Wan had no idea what was going on too. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan was also dealing with the betrayal of his closest friend (his brother), who tries to kill him. Meanwhile, said brother does kill his wife (pregnant wife) who is a close friend of Obi-Wan’s, right there in front of him. All this leads to Obi-Wan doing the unthinkable: mutilating and then killing his brother – or worse, not being able to kill Anakin, leaving him in torment for another two decades.

There is so much PTSD fodder here, and that doesn’t even touch the betrayals from the clones, nor the question of ‘did he feel the psychic backlash from the chips kicking in and twisting the clones’ minds?’, nor the mental trauma from The Phantom Menace wherein he was replaced, failed his teacher who died in his arms but only after saying ‘that kid what replaced you, you need to train him now,’ and then 10 years of raising a kid when he was literally just sorta-kinda-not-exactly declared an adult himself. He was not prepared for that.

So once Obi-Wan’s handed over Luke (the last remaining link to his brother, who he is now not allowed any contact with since Luke expresses he’s never really met Old Ben) – that’s the first time he’s had to really stop and breathe in over 13 years. Ten years to raise a responsibility he never asked for, was not prepared to handle, and was a reminder of his greatest failure. Three years of running at least a literal third of a galactic war that was stacked against him (did he realize that by the end? That they were being played, and could never have won?).

Yeah, he’s got 20 years to work at recovering from that, but without a skilled therapist that I don’t think you’re going to find on Tatooine, you’re going to be lucky to be functional. I know that Star Wars as a whole doesn’t concern itself with mental health (seriously, mind healers are becoming one of my most cherished additions that Re-Entry brings to the table). That doesn’t mean ignoring it will get you a good character assessment.

Depression and PTSD isn’t going to make someone “a sad, bitter, lonely man” nor does it mean that one will metaphorically “be playing All By Myself on repeat for 20 straight years while sobbing into a cup of Bantha milk.” Depression expresses itself in any number of ways. It can mute things, so that while you laugh and even enjoy life, that joy doesn’t linger, or pales quickly. It can add a haze to everything, so you feel numb and distant. It can make someone who once expressed themselves exuberantly seem calm instead of manic. It doesn’t have to affect one’s wit, or habits of cracking jokes even if those jokes might feel flat and hollow to the speaker.

Sometimes it just leads to going through the motions of living, how one would have approached things Before – but it’s just empty motions.

PTSD can express itself as flashbacks. It can look like nothing until it is reactions to a different time and trauma instead of what is now and present. It can be a person haunted by their past, it can be explosive, it can be quiet and turned inwards. There are days when it doesn’t hit you, there are days when it’s so heavy on your shoulders that it feels like all you can do is sit, stare at a wall, and hope your brain shuts off. Then there are the days when despite that weight, you still need to go get groceries, or make dinner, or fix a vaportator, or fight off wayward Tuskens or something.

Nothing says that depressed and traumatized Obi-Wan wouldn’t sometimes take delight in lightsaber play, or practical jokes. I just don’t think that it would overtake the depression and PTSD.

On top of all of that is what you get when you take a look at the EU. Obi-Wan’s been traumatized since he was a kid. He was bullied through his tweens. He was rejected by the ONLY teacher he could hope to have until the Order booted him to the AgroCorps, at least a week before the official deadline. Then that shuttle crashed, and he saw his first major battle which led to approximately FOUR HUNDRED dead.

At not quite 13. Over the next year (probably less, but let’s be generous), he had to deal with: kidnapping, enslavement and hard labor, an attempted mind wipe, an actual war accompanied by abandonment by his teacher, and his teacher’s prior student trying to blow up his home. By the time Phantom Menace rolls around, we can include: several more wars, 6 months to a year on the run across war-torn Mandalore trying to keep a teenage Satine alive, taking responsibility for the death of Qui-Gon’s Love Interest – and that’s just what’s off the top of my head.

Y’know what’s interesting? During Attack of the Clones, what I see is a man just barely holding his shit together. That scene in Dex’s Diner breaks me, because all I can think of is my time doing food service while going through my own PTSD and depression – and I recognize that empty smile he has for Dex. I know it’s all interpretation, but I can’t help but think he’s faking that smile. That sure, he means it: he’s happy to see a friend, he wants to reassure him, but that doesn’t change the hollow inside that he knows if he lets go and falls into it, he will never climb out.

The war provided an alternative focus. It gave him clear, concrete goals: beat back enemies here and here, keep as many of these people alive as possible, here are resources and here are the end goals. He could legitimately bond with brothers in arms who could grok black humor, who wouldn’t look askance at someone covering long-standing grief and discomfort with banter and flirting, “who winked and witticized his way out of death and imprisonment a million times, who always found something to laugh about or make fun of even in the most difficult situations” – regardless of how inappropriate or relevant that might be to the circumstances.

Sometimes, that laughter is all that keeps you from breaking from all the pain.

Yes, people heal. Yes, he had 20 years to work through that trauma and injury. He’d also be doing it alone, with a legacy of stoicism and philosophies about releasing his emotions into the Force. The last major friendships he had ended in betrayal or in death, and people he depended on tended to either die or betray him.

That’s not something you blithely overcome to play pranks on the locals while watching over the kid of your best friend what you almost killed as he was trying to kill you, like he killed most everyone else you knew and loved. There is so much trauma and pain he’s had to see over the last 20 plus years, and Tatooine is the first time he ever gets to breathe and react.

If you want to write trickster archtype Obi-Wan, I applaud you. Without any sarcasm or mockery: you do you.

Meanwhile, I’ll be writing traumatized Old Ben.

(Many thanks to @morgynleri and @elegantmess-southernbelle who provided brilliant points and conversation, though I suspect I phrased it with much less grace and coherency than they did)

#star wars #meta #reviving from the purge #Norcumi has Opinions again #thinky thoughts #obi wan #character analysis #ptsd #trauma #depression #mbti #myers briggs

50 notes · View notes

witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

Text

BODY AND SOUL Part 32 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Apologies for the lateness; this has been one of the longest stretches of days of my life. I’ll elaborate more at the end, I think, but suffice it to say this fic has quite literally changed my life; changed ME, forever. It reopened parts of me I thought had been consigned to the abyss and opened new doors entirely in my soul. It truly has fucking changed me body and soul, as cheesy as that fucking is. So when you read it, know that it comes from the depths of me. Marguerite Foley is based on Mary Beard. Kenzie’s starburst necklace looks like this. Kenzie suggesting FRANKENSTEIN to Anchaly is for a couple reasons; firstly, that I love it as much as she does, and secondly, a gothic horror is my next project, and it’s my nod to myself (haha). Kenzie being astounded at her own writing is how I feel sometimes when I read over any of this fic; “I wrote this???” is usually what I’m thinking. When the muse hits you, she’s no joke. This is Kenzie’s Marchesa dress, this is Duncan’s Alexander McQueen shirt. Crocus looks like this; I’ve been crazy about palominos since I was a child (and horses in general, let’s get real) and knew one of the horses Duncan got for Kenzie was always going to be a palomino. This is the dress Kenzie is wearing on his back, her earpieces are like this. This is the jacket Duncan is wearing in that shot. Kenzie’s birthday dress. Her lingerie. Duncan’s jacket and his shirt. Here are the pomegranate cufflinks (I had to, y’all). Here’s Hannah’s dress. Claire’s dress. Someone put on Hozier’s self-titled album while they’re getting ready because I’ve been listening to it a lot over the past week or so; the songs mentioned are FROM EDEN and IN A WEEK. A reminder that ARIADNE looks like this. There are only two more chapters left after this one; one of which I’ve written; I’ll write the epilogue after I upload Part 33. To those of you who have come so far with me on this incredible journey; thank you.

THREE WEEKS LATER

Kenzie ran out the penthouse door to the elevator, half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich clutched in her left hand, the moonstone glimmering on her finger as she shoved a pair of ballet flats on her feet. It was late afternoon--fuck, already--Anchaly had just rang on the intercom to tell her a special package had arrived. She’d been just about to go back to the study with her sandwich when he’d called; she’d been in the middle of writing a passage she’d been puzzling over. The strange thing about language, she thought, is it’s always trying to explain the inexplicable. And when you’re writing about love, you’re always trying to grasp the intangible.

She wore washed denim overall shorts and a white embroidered crop top--Kenzie noticed one of the strap sleeves had slipped off her shoulder as she skidded into the elevator, hurriedly pressing the foyer button; then she pushed it back up. At her neck was a long golden chain with a gold-and-diamond starburst hanging from it past her breasts--another gift from Duncan a few nights ago. I couldn’t help it, he’d said, his lips against the bottom of her ear as he clasped it around her neck, his breath sweet and heavy, his smell like cedarwood. I saw it and knew it was for you, and everything’s been going so well, the solar is going up without a hitch, the rooftop garden is almost done, the garden house is getting started, Annette’s like a different person, and after our meeting with Claire Underwood last week; and how much she loved you, loved our ideas...it’s my joy to give you things, it’s celebrating all of this, everything, us. Please let me continue to bestow gifts on you, sweet Princess. Kenzie peered at it in the elevator’s mirror, running it through her fingers; squinted at herself, her honey-colored hair falling around her face. Then she took another massive bite of her sandwich.

In addition to everything else, the new board was coming together nicely, too, she knew; Duncan had bought back shares owned by previous members of the board, and they had started from scratch, choosing only women as he’d promised; Momby and Annette were now something akin to friends, which Duncan and Kenzie constantly marveled over, watching them laugh and touch each other’s shoulders affectionately, going on brunch dates and to happy hours; the rest of the team Kenzie and Momby had carefully considered, eventually lighting on several women in prominent scientific fields, especially those with a focus on climate change action, Marguerite Foley, who had won a National Book Award for her new history of Ancient Rome, and two renowned socialist activists, both women of color, one of whom had gained nationwide attention for personally lassoing a confederate statue down from a public square in South Carolina and organizing major white-supremacist opposition protests. When Kenzie had first sat among this group of women in the newly-painted board room (a pleasing cerulean blue with gold borders that reminded her of a deep ocean with a golden shoreline), she had felt her heart swell beyond all words; I felt the Goddess there, she knew. As clearly as if She sat with us. And I knew it was good in Her eyes.

Kenzie had been doing her best to split time between the new board of directors and her book, which seemed to be flowing out of her like it was a river with a strong current. I think staring at the Youth of Bacchus all day doesn’t hurt when it comes to inspiration. Neither does wanting to share what’s in my heart so very, very much. The study had been transformed from Duncan’s work desk to Kenzie’s writing desk; they’d recently had two high-quality photos framed to put on it. One was the Vanity Fair shot of them together, the other, the two of them looking at each other at the Gala; glancing at them throughout the day, Kenzie felt constantly awash in a haze of golden affection, gratitude and deep emotion, and every time she read back on what she’d written, she felt lost in its loveliness, stunned at her own words. I wrote this, she knew, astounded. This came from my own heart, and now everyone will know. They’ll know what this feels like. They’ll feel the love I’ve felt; not just now, but in all the ages past, and the ones to come.

The elevator reached the ground floor and she stepped out, swallowing the rest of her sandwich, licking peanut butter off her finger. She turned to see Anchaly’s feet propped against the counter, his nose buried deep in Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey. There was a thick package in brown shipping paper on the countertop beside where his pristine Balmains were crossed over each other; Kenzie smiled.

“Nice shoes, Anchaly, those look really smart on you. And I love that one. Everyone always talks about Jane Austen writing good romance, but they always leave out how fucking funny and observant she was.”

“Hey, Princess.” A few weeks ago, Anchaly had started to call her this; Kenzie knew somehow, innately, that his doing so lacked all pretense. It felt right; natural. Even if he didn’t know, he knew. It was in the air. “Bought them with my first new paycheck. I think they really suit me.” Duncan had promptly raised the salaries of every person employed by Shepherd Unlimited a few days after assuming his role as CEO, as well as extending vacation time and enacting full benefits for every position. Anchaly continued. “And I agree about Ms. Austen. Delightful. Though I will say, this one’s making me want to read a serious gothic novel next, rather than a facetious one.”

“Frankenstein,” Kenzie breathed, eagerly. “It has to be Frankenstein. One of the best books ever written. I love it so much. It’s so heartbreakingly melancholy and so beautiful. Did you know Mary Shelley wrote it when she was only 18?”

“Goodness, no. That’s extraordinary. I’ll make it a point to get a copy, Miss Mackenzie.”

Kenzie nodded at him, grinning approvingly. Anchaly hitched his feet down, handing her the long brown package. She gripped it tightly, fingers white, knowing full well what it was. She couldn’t wait any longer. With the nails of her right hand she ripped along the seam, exposing the object within; it was the new issue of W magazine, and on its cover, she saw, her heart bursting into her mouth with bittersweet savor: us.

On the cover was a stunning photograph of her and Duncan. In it, she wore a beautifully embroidered Marchesa dress; the top had a high collar and embellished black etchings and flowers with cut-out mesh; in the photo the full skirt’s waist was just visible, it’s blooming golden roses peeking towards the bottom of the shot. She was flush to Duncan’s arms; her face dipping up towards the camera, strands of golden hair across her cheek, her lips parted just so, dark plum. Her eyes seemed impossibly deep gold, framed by her lashes, seeming impossibly long; like the photo on the study desk, but even brighter--even greater. She wondered again vaguely if it was a trick of the camera; knew innately that it wasn’t. You can truly see us here. Who we really are. The cascade of her honey-colored hair dipped back, a waterfall of smooth, waving silk, and a crown of yellow begonias rested on the top of her head. Duncan’s face was also turned to the camera; her forehead rested against the dip of his chin, his full lips open too, just enough to evoke a deep longing in the onlooker, and his russety curls were across his forehead, falling down in artfully tossed, dark waves--akin to the deep gold of her own eyes, his seemed to glow with ethereal blue flame. Sword of the Evening Star, Kenzie thought, pressing her fingers against her mouth. Duncan wore a form-fitting Alexander McQueen black Oxford with a cascading embroidery of white roses along either side of his torso; one of his hands was visible at the top of her arm, his beautiful long fingers, holding her with aching tenderness. The light was sweet and low in the shot; the photocall had been on the White House’s back green with Claire Underwood’s permission, the sunlight falling in the late afternoon to dapple behind them; somehow the photographers had been able to preserve the sense of natural light, and Kenzie was reminded of their two sweet summer evenings at the cabin several weeks ago, could almost smell the drifting, low verdence of the grass that day.

She bit into her lip, breath stolen; the photo evoked a deep sense of romance, a dramatic and stirring sense of tenderness, bordering on gothicism. AT THE ALTAR OF DUCKENZIE, the headline read, printed in swirling script below them, and then, smaller: the breathtaking young gods and their plan to change the world. Kenzie heart thumped against the roof of her mouth now, her senses flooding with the blood the pumped from it fiercely. Fuck. It’s so much more beautiful than I could have imagined. She opened to the editorial inside; there was a five-page-long spread, the inner article with another subtitle; WHEN THE GOD OF WEALTH MET THE GODDESS OF SPRING, THE WORLD SHIFTED…: The new Hades and Persephone sit together in the fading light of the White House lawn, the editorial began, and Duncan Shepherd leans down to kiss her rosy cheek, her, Mackenzie Stone, who took the internet by storm when she abruptly stole his heart only a few short months ago…, the article went on, and Kenzie stopped. Oh god, I can’t possibly read this right now, she thought, feeling the heat rising in her face immediately. Kenz, you’re in the middle of writing. You have to wait.

In one of the photos of the inner spread, the photographers had enlisted the help of a breathtaking creamy palomino stallion; Kenzie sat astride him in a flowing white McQueen dress in delicate lace suns, moons and tiny flower-bursts, tiny white jewels threaded through her hair, huge crescent moon pendants earpieces on either side of her head. Duncan, in a striking long black blazer with cascades of glittering gold embroidery, also McQueen, held firmly to a gold-and-black-leather bridle the horse wore; there was a circlet with dark obsidian stones across his forehead. The horse’s mane was twisted into elegant braids that fell over his large, liquid-dark eyes, and a wreath of dark roses around his neck. Kenzie had loved this horse utterly; immediately, with a fierce adoration that threatened to shatter her into pieces.

“What’s his name,” she’d asked, tearing, touching the sides of his long face later, back on the ground--the horse had stared down at her, lashes blinking languidly. He dipped his head up, fluid, curious, and let out a quiet, curious neigh. His huge eyes fluttered again in some secret language.

“Crocus,” the trainer said, smiling at her, a big, burly man with coppery skin and a dark black beard. “He’s as sweet as honey butter. I’ve never met a stallion so mild. Like he came down from heaven, the holy mount of some lofty angel. Though it seems he’ll soon belong to another angel, from what I’ve been told.”

Kenzie had turned to Duncan, her mouth open. Crocus. Like the yellow flowers in my hair.

“Dunny.”

Duncan had grinned at her, his eyes sparkling, hand coming against his lips. Yes, my angel.

“Dunny.”

“I know your birthday is still a few weeks away, but--Kenzie. He’s yours. And we’ll find him companions, I promise. But I knew he had to be yours. He’s your jewel. I could see it right away. Meant to be, clear as crystal. Like the Mirror, or the flowers, or--oh, Kenz--don’t--”

For Kenzie, of course, had begun to cry, and as her tears poured forth like rain, she’d thrown herself into his arms.

-----

“Everything’s ready for the celebration tonight, Miss Mackenzie. If you are missing anything once the party gets underway, you know you need only call me for assistance. I hope it is truly a wonderful night.”

“Anchaly, honestly, lately--everything is wonderful. I’ve been infinitely blessed.”

“Miss Mackenzie, I beg to say--it is you who are the blessing. Since you came into our lives, it’s like the world was set aflame with the kindest, softest gold. Like…” Anchaly trailed off here, lost in thought, and his fingers came around his chin.

“Miss Stone...it’s like...like coming home.”

Kenzie had come around the desk and hugged the small man; she couldn’t help it, and Anchaly didn’t mind; she could feel his ease, his sense of comfort at her embrace. Thank you, Anchaly, she thought, pushing blushing waves down on him from the top of her head. She felt the man’s shoulders shake against her, and knew that he had been deeply moved, had felt what she had done acutely. Truly a wonderful night, she thought, his words echoing in her mind. Truly a wonderful night, and she knew he was right, knew it was on its way.

As she went back up to the penthouse, the magazine tucked safely under her arm, she thought of the articles they’d done in the Post two weeks before. Ben had been very satisfied to finally publish his piece with Duncan; as Duncan had promised, he had made an immediate donation to GLAAD in the name of the newly organized Shepherd Foundation of Arts and Sciences--in the amount of 2 million dollars, which had caused a ripple amongst the press that was now gaining a serious momentum. The W interview was the first they’d agreed to since Bill’s passing, but several more were lined up in the weeks to come, and they’d had so many press requests, Kenzie had requested that River (now Kenzie’s personal assistant) simply stop answering the phone for a few days. The Post article had been the most extensive regarding Duncan’s initial goals; and in Kenzie’s full-page piece, she’d elucidated on the company’s long-term goals, their hopes for a green future with the implementation of their solar energy and rooftop greenhouse blueprints, and their plans for legislation with Claire Underwood to pass laws enacting green policies in all areas of government. The plans were being met with resounding positivity by the public; Shepherd Unlimited’s stock had closed out at the top of the market for weeks now, and though Kenzie knew it would take time, she also knew eventually their goals would come to pass. And, then, hopefully, no more stock market anyway, she thought. If our goals prevail, Goddess willing, the new world will truly arrive. Not only will I have saved Duncan in this life, we will have saved this world from its own destruction. In the eyes of the Goddess, under Her bright kindness and the strong threads of Fate, all things are possible. I can’t disbelieve; not in light of everything that’s happened. Not in the face of this transcendent reality. When I’m with him, I know--every good thing is possible.

She thought of their garden house, far in the future still, but now taking shape; my garden house, I know, for he’s designing it for me--he’s worked tirelessly with the architect and the builders to make the design perfect, he’s already been going out there every day he can. They’d been told the house, greenhouse and horse barn would take two years from start to finish, all-told, at this juncture; but something electric surrounded the property. When she’d visited it for the first time a week ago, it had felt to Kenzie like the quiet serenity of the black oak circle, but compounded and expanded and made greater, a Thin Place stretched to an extraordinary distance. Like its own little world. Duncan had texted her that day from Westminster, about an hour and a half drive from DC, where the land was, with several accompanying pictures.

Duncan: Kenzie, baby, just look at it. The builders are ahead of schedule already. This won’t take two years. I can feel it. It’s this place. She’s EVERYWHERE here, Kenzie. I love you so much. I can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ll kiss you a thousand times, my sweet Princess of Heaven.

The accompanying pictures showed the structure of the house already well in place, the plotting of the greenhouse and the barn distinct. Crocus was being kept in a private stable several miles away until the barn was erected; that can’t come soon enough, Kenzie thought, for Duncan had promised they’d find him two companions when the garden house came closer to completion. And I miss him terribly, Kenzie thought. She’d only been able to visit the palomino once since Duncan had purchased him, and she’d burst into tears again, burying her face against his soft haunches. Crocus had made tiny horsey sounds; dipping his long face back and forth, but Kenzie could have sworn he was trying to comfort her. Do you remember me too, beauty? She thought. Did we know each other long ago? But she didn’t need to ask. She knew they had, with a golden certainty. Like Duncan, you’ve always been mine, honey-sweet, nectar wine, my Crocus, mild as the sunflower-colored dawn.

The moonstone ring caught the light in her reflection before she exited the elevator, back on the penthouse floor; Kenzie had relished her day alone, writing through the morning, but now she longed for Duncan; as I always do this time of day, she thought. The ring was like a kiss from his mouth against her finger; this thought pressed against her again and again, a mantra on her heart. A kiss. A kiss forever. A devotion. A promise to me. A symbol of love, as constant as the moon, changing and yet the same, turning against the earth until it too dissolves into something else, and yet even then, somewhere, never gone, just in some other place, some other time. When I look at it, I see the poetry of his mind; the fall of his thoughts, the way they hold me, the way they inspired me, kindled my heart to do the thing I was meant to do, write something truly beautiful, something that would give a piece of this love--as infinite as it is, as ever-growing, ever-expanding--to everyone who touches it. When he conceived this ring from the artistry of his own mind, he was thinking of the love between us, and he was thinking of me; the aspect of my soul. I know it. Every time I see it, I feel it.

The moonstone seemed to swirl, creamy-dark, and the diamonds glittered as she shifted her wrist up to tuck her hair back, slipping her keycard back into the door. She was frustrated to realize how close to the party her writing had skirted; she only had about an hour more to finish the part she was working on, and she’d be cutting it close. Soon the caterers would be arriving, soon Hannah and Georgio would be here for their styling, photographers, Morgan to fit her into her dress, and soon Duncan would be home. Back to work, Kenzie Lou. You know you won’t be able to even think about it once he gets home.

Kenzie went back to the study that had once been Duncan’s--and was now unmistakably hers. The Youth of Bacchus stretched along the entire wall, colossal, endless, staggeringly moving; she moved up to it, as she often did, comparing herself to the life-size figures. Kenzie toed for a moment, the magazine still tucked against her, in the fourth position. Old ballet habits die hard. She pretended to dance with them for a moment; turning her head up like the revelers depicted therein. In life, there is such joy. To be alive at all, and then to find him endlessly. I know now that her benevolence extends over everything. I see Her in every flower, in the shape of his face, in the facets of the moon, one of thousands, one of millions in the structure of her Time. I am Ariadne, thrown into the stars; Mother, I feel you everywhere. I know I’m your beloved.

Kenzie ceased her silent dance, giggling at herself, her own abandon; she switched on the Tiffany lamp beside Duncan’s smooth turntable and returned to the desk, gently setting the magazine down on it beside her Macbook, her Google doc open on the screen. Above where she’d placed the magazine were the two framed photos; the one from Vanity Fair (that day my heart was so heavy, but he held me with so much love and tenderness, his love a healing balm) and the one from the Gala, their faces full of such splendid happiness she often caught herself staring at it, lost in its emotion, its pure joy. There was another photo framed there now, smaller than the other two; the photo of Momby in bell sleeves, grinning in her youth out onto her unseen future. There was a slender velvet box on the other side of her laptop, one Kenzie had tied a satin, burgundy-colored ribbon around. She’d left it there as a reminder to herself to give it to him as soon as he got home; the first part of Duncan’s birthday present was something for him to wear that night. The second part, well--those are for me to wear, she thought. And I’ll make him fucking weak.

She glanced at the magazine cover one more time. I can’t wait to show this to him, she thought. At the altar of Duckenzie...Kenzie thought of that first night, the christening of their true altar; our bed, she thought, over which a dozen bouquets now hang, each of his adornments for me, yellow crocus after he found my beautiful Crocus, begonias after I loved the ones on my crown for the photoshoot so much, but mostly roses, roses in every shade, and these I’ve been gathering as though I would weave the colors of his love with them. Our bedroom, where stands our Mirror, unstuck from time, where we’ve fucked in passionate abandon almost every night since we met, and yet never tire of each other’s delights, never tire of the closeness or the need or the ecstatic connection of us, and never will. She’d worn the black and white lace lingeries on several nights over the past few weeks, let him tie her up half a dozen times, pulled him insistently into the shower for the last three mornings, demanding; they’d fucked on every surface of the penthouse at least twice more since returning from the cabin a few weeks ago, but her favorite place remained their bed; in the dark, in the shadows, with the moon on us, and your eyes made of blue flames, and the greatness of you, Evening Star, my sweet Hades.

Kenzie went back to writing.

-------

Erik was at the door promptly at five-thirty, in a blouse with voluminous iridescent magenta sleeves; Hannah and Georgio were behind him, carrying their styling chairs, bags slung over their shoulders. Morgan arrived right after, in a swirling black cape, long, dark green gloves on her hands.

“Darling,” she cooed, “you will truly look the part of a cosmic Princess tonight, my sweet. One of my favorite works I’ve done to date, bar none. One of my masterpieces.”

“Morgan, everything you make is a masterpiece,” Kenzie said, hopping excitedly at the long clothing rack that was being wheeled in behind the eccentric designer, leaning to kiss Morgan’s cheek.

“As I said, my love. One of.” Morgan kissed her in turn, and floated past her.

Kenzie wondered for a moment where Claire was, then knew; with Harris, of course. She’ll probably show up when he does. Oh my sweet Clairebear. Several caterers slipped in behind Morgan, heading towards the kitchen island with a wheel cart that carried, rather than a cake, Duncan and Kenzie’s alternative choice: two hundred organic, vegan, edible-gold crescent moon cinnamon cupcakes. On the lower shelves of the cart Kenzie could see case after case of delicate hors d'oeuvres, chilly tins of caviar, and ramekins of creme brulee and chocolate mousse. Kenzie peered anxiously into the hallway, which was empty now. Where’s Duncan, she frowned, turning back inside.

“Kenzie, get over here, let’s get started,” Hannah beckoned to her, grinning. Her lipstick was pale lavender today, her hair still the same striking purplish-gray. Her dress was a dusty periwinkle chiffon midi with floral embroidery, long silvery chains with flowers and bird charms hanging from her neck. She looked beautiful; like a fairy lady-in-waiting, come to adorn Kenzie’s hair with flowers again. But not flowers tonight, Kenzie thought. Tonight, I will be the radiance of the night sky.

“Where’s Duncan?” Kenzie said, more to herself than to her hairdresser. Hannah shrugged, patting her on the shoulders, turning her towards the mirrors Erik was setting up in front of them.

“Did he say he’d be back yet?”

“Well, no, not necessarily--” Kenzie fell into the chair which Hannah had placed on the wide living room carpet, the same spot it had been in for the Gala. “But he knew what time you’d be arriving and he texted me hours ago from the garden house, so he’s probably back in the city by now. One of his birthday presents is something for him to wear, so I wanted to give it to him soon.”

“I’m sure he’ll be along soon, Princess,” Hannah murmured, already working a thin comb through Kenzie’s golden hair, parting it carefully. Kenzie wrinkled her nose at Hannah in the mirror; you too huh. Hannah stopped, squealing; “Oh my god, the ring, Kenzie, holy shit!”

Kenzie had made an Instagram post the day after Duncan had given it to her on Momby’s deck, her hand elegantly poised up to the sunlight over their bed, moonstone and diamonds glittering, the flowers she’d pinned along the headboard visible in the backdrop. Three weeks later, the picture had garnered over 10 million likes, which simply seemed impossible to Kenzie. The paps had started calling them Prince Duncan and Princess Mackenzie in articles; as if we really are royalty. Well--as if they know.

“Duncan designed it himself,” Kenzie smiled, her mind once again drifting to Duncan’s other presents she had for tonight. Oh baby. Gonna make you howl for me. Hannah continued to fawn over the ring, tsking as she clutched Kenzie’s fingers, staring down at it. “Lovely, fuck, wow, the most beautiful ring I have ever seen, like a full moon surrounded by stars.”

“I think that’s what he was thinking of, honestly,” and Kenzie’s smile widened, her teeth peeking free from her lips, turning her head up. “He calls me moonbeam sometimes.”

“Oh, Princess.” Hannah straightened her head back to stare into the mirror, shaking her own lavender tresses. “I can’t wait to style your pretty head for that wedding. God, I might just faint from the loveliness of all of it. I might just fucking scream.” Morgan was fussing to their left over the cloth bag that held Kenzie’s dress; she glanced up at the Bouguereau prints along the wall, forgetting the dress for a moment to coo softly at them.

“Oh, how divine, Bouguereau. The academic painters are highly underrated if you ask me. Our Duncan is quite the romantic at heart, isn’t he?”

“He really is, Morgan. Deep in his soul.” Kenzie’s heart clenched as she spoke. My Hades, serious, sensitive, sweet as evening.

“I doubt you would have given him another glance if he wasn’t,” Hannah added, using a curling iron to twist Kenzie’s hair into even waves. “You can see into people’s hearts, I knew it the moment I saw you.” On the fold-out drawer beside her Kenzie could see beautiful golden headband with starburst embellishments from end to end, a particularly large one in the middle made of blue sapphires with gold trim. Me and Duncan. My gold surrounding his blue.

“Oh Hannah, I love that,” Kenzie murmured, gesturing to it without moving her head this time, trying not to annoy her hairdresser too much.

“It made me think of you and Duncan immediately,” Hannah said in a quiet voice, and Kenzie could feel her emotion--feel the quavering adoration there. She sent golden energy out from her body over Hannah. Sweet lavender-tinted soul.

Someone had put music on; a soothing guitar line and lilting chorus drifted through the room, and Kenzie felt her own energy, her own desire for the evening, fill the cracks in the space, between the sound;

Honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror, long ago

Kenzie heard the front door open a little later amid the bustle now shaking the penthouse; she turned and saw the beloved, familiar crown of Duncan’s autumnal curls, the striking outline of his profile, and yelped, slipping deftly out of Hannah’s grip, running in several quick bounds into his arms--his blueness fell over her, sucking her breath away. Duncan laughed into her hair and Kenzie’s heart soared up to the ceiling with the sound, her body suddenly afire with him; home, home, home, you’re home and so I’m home now, too, the respite of him flowing, instantly, utterly, into her veins. Through the halo of her arms at his neck and the sweet, musky smell of him, Kenzie noticed two men behind him carrying a very large, rectangular object covered in packing paper; Duncan turned to them with her still clutched against him, and nodded to them.

“In the bedroom, please, thanks guys--” and then he buried his face against her again as they moved past, and Kenzie sighed, everything else, everyone melting away into nothing with the feel of him.

“Fuck, baby, I missed you today--”

“I fucking missed you--”

He kissed her with a fierce hunger that stopped all entreaty--she felt his fingers (loveliest of all to me, beloved) drift against the back of her head, holding her achingly against his mouth, his arm tucking her tightly to him, her face hovering over his. His thoughts were an endless plea: kiss me, kiss me Kenzie, please just kiss me--

“Baby,” she broke away, hovering so her whisper fell on the wetness she’d left on his mouth, “what was in that package?”

Duncan grinned; the smile of the gods. Like the sun. More beautiful to me than any star.

“Come on. Open it now. I want you to see. I want us to look at it alone--just me and you. Angel baby.” He lowered her to earth (would that I’d never have to come down from the height of your arms, Prince), and his fingers came again, the desperation to touch her seeping from him into her, to press to each side of her face, his forehead leaning down to her in an adoring embrace that left her breathless. Kenzie stared up into his sapphiric eyes; she could feel her mouth hovering open at his beauty, felt lost in the delicate cock of his chin; they marveled at one another in silence for a quiet, extended moment. Your delight to me is endless, Duncan, your beauty to me above all other beauties.

I’ll never tire of your face, Kenzie, which I would know, even in death, even in the void, as the face of the other half of my Soul.

He gently let go of her, and Kenzie finally noticed everyone in the room gaping at them openly; both she and Duncan looked away from the collective stares, shyly. Many people openly gazed at them this way these days; it seemed it simply couldn’t be helped. Duncan had started to call it their sheen; it was as if with their union they had opened a kind of doorway, one through which the tiniest sliver of their divine light poured forth. Like Claire had said: the light a moth flies into. Kenzie often felt frozen under the power of it over the past few weeks; the fell swoop of stunned amazement they caused together was endlessly strange, and it charged her body again and again with a frantic glow that often threatened to overwhelm her, as if a battery within her was being recharged with immense power. At these times, after the moments where their sheen was witnessed, their powers were super-charged for awhile; she could hear every tiny nuance of Duncan’s thoughts, which both thrilled her and stole her breath away. It was beyond words; it was more like the tiny cadence of a melody, too fragile to explain even to herself. She found, in this charged state, that she could transmutate across further and further distances, conjure fires with an ease that astounded her. The sway she could hold now over the paps constantly outside the high-rise now was extraordinary; Harris and her entourage were scarcely needed, as the paps would remain calm and Kenzie unaccosted as she held them under her powers. Duncan could do the same--the sheen both astounded the world to them, and protected them.

In that state, I see everything; the shades of him, the brightness and the darkness too. The throng of every thread She wove into him, when she created him, the perfect other half of me. Without him, I would cease. Without me, he would disappear. She wove it that way--I see that I’ve been blessed beyond all others in this way. We were the first; the very first time she melded two souls, and her work was majesty. It was us. We were the first of all true love.

Duncan led her past the people in the penthouse--out of the noisy quiet of their stares, the bleeding music (we lay here for years or for hours, your hand in my hand...), and into the soothing cocoon of their bedroom, closing the door behind her, still holding her hand. The men had set the long object wrapped in paper against the far wall--the empty wall, Kenzie realized. The blank wall where we vowed to put something beautiful.

“Kenzie.”

He turned to her, reaching for her other hand, blue eyes burning like low coals.

“Baby--I’m so happy. It’s yours forever now. It’s so beautiful, it’s--please, Kenzie--know that to me, it’s always you. I will always see your face in it. Whenever I look at it, I’ll only see you.”

“Dunny, what is it?”

He only smiled again, leading her to the papered object. She watched his deep breath, her fingers coming up to press to her lips.

“Open it, Duncan. Open it for me.”

Duncan’s eyes flashed at her; summer lightning in a storm. Then he gave her a little nod, a heart-stopping, teasing smile, then he turned, a long, black-clad shadow (as ever) leaning to the corner of the paper where it lifted free of its glue, and with his long fingers grasped and tore it--as he did, Kenzie glimpsed a swath of wine-red and lilac, the shape of a pair of bent knees on a raised dais. Duncan threw the swath of paper aside and grasped her under her arms; led her close to the painting (for that’s what it is--it’s a painting) and brought her hands down to the dip of the paper that remained. Rip it away, baby, look at it, look at how perfect it is. More perfect than I could have imagined. Use your power to reveal it.

Kenzie did as he said; gestured softly, her fingers curving; the paper ripped up in a swift movement that exposed, suddenly, the sweet, upturned face of a maiden in repose, one of her breasts free, her body clad in wine-red silk painted on canvas. Kenzie’s body tingled, her senses flush with emotion, suddenly--she tore the rest of the paper away from the painting, widening her fingers, shifting the space--and then, overcome with its reveal, kneeled in front of it, holding her breath, eyes wide.

“Baby.”

“It’s called Ariadne. She was the wife of Dionysus; Bacchus, like--you know--”

“Like The Youth of Bacchus.”

She lifted her face up to where he stood, hands in her lap, her body hunched towards the loveliness of it; Duncan came down to her, kneeling beside her, reaching for her hands.

“He loved her. She was his wife--he gave her a crown made of stars. When she died, he threw it into the sky, so she would always be remembered.”

“Like Star of Heaven.” Kenzie felt the tears on her cheeks.

“Yes, Kenzie. You. My star of heaven.”

“Duncan. It’s--” And she lifted her fingers to his cheeks, cupping his face, running her thumbs along the stubble with a deep, abiding relief. He turned his mouth into her palm; closed his eyes, kissed her long and longingly.

“I knew as soon as I saw that it was going up for auction. I knew. Kenz, you’ll see soon, the garden house, it’s--it’s coming to life. She’s speeding it along. I can feel her there. She’s in every shadow and every corner. The Veil there, it’s so thin, sometimes I think I can see colors from that other place, that heavenly place--all the builders feel it too, I can tell, they work tirelessly, and never seem to get weary, and they sing as they work, as if they know it’s a holy place, and to me it sounds like hymns to you, it all reminds me of you--it’s going to be our safe haven, baby, our secret place away from all of this. It’s going to be what you’ve dreamed about. I can see the dream being pulled out of our minds and into the world.”

I could see your dream, and I’ve made it real. Just as you are the dream I’d hoped for, on the other side of time.

Kenzie turned back to Ariadne, a trembling finger reaching out to it to trace, hovering, along the cascade of her red robe, the printed fur of the leopard that lounged at her feet, the dusky sky behind her. A crown made of stars. Like the one I’ll wear tonight, in your honor, my Prince. In our honor.

She buried herself in his arms, sighing, his shape immediately overwhelming her. Even when Hannah knocked impatiently a few minutes later, the clock marching on to when the party was set to begin, they still hovered against each other, gazing at each other in a repose they ached not to break, Kenzie’s eyes roving over Ariadne, which she knew she would study carefully in time. The long day was over--even in the center of this party, she knew, they’d only see and feel each other, thank blessed Fate.

For it’s us, together--the greatest of all Her majesties.

----------

Duncan was in the chair across from her, pouring over the W magazine spread, his hand on his chin, a dancing light behind his eyes. Hannah was working product through his hair, but Duncan didn’t seem to register her administration at all; he was staring intently at the photo of Kenzie atop Crocus with a concentration that bordered on obsession, and Kenzie could feel his thoughts, ardently reaching towards her. Only a few months until our wedding, beloved, but I want to marry you right now, I want everyone to know you are my greatest joy. His hand reached across to her from the chair, eyes glancing to her. He had changed from the clothing he’d worn out to the garden house and to retrieve the painting from Stapleton Antiques, a black short-sleeved button down and comfortable chinos; now he wore an elegant, long-cut Givenchy blazer that reached his knees, an embroidered Oxford underneath. Something glimmered at the wrists of his sleeves; the first of Kenzie’s gifts.

“To Hades, from your Persephone,” she’d whispered as she’d passed him the velvet box a little while ago in the study. Inside were a pair of cufflinks shaped like two halves of a ripe pomegranate, with dark red garnets representing the inner seeds, sterling silver for the skins. “I’ve eaten the seeds and I’ve chosen to stay with you forever, my sweet Duncan. Happy birthday.”

“Oh, Kenz,” and his smile was melting her heart again, dripping down her ribs. “Put them on me, please? Fuck, they’re lovely.” Kenzie had gently lifted them one at the time from the box, attaching them to the cuffs of his Givenchy coat as he drifted his fingers through her hair. “I have something else for you,” Kenzie whispered up to him in their last moment of solitude. “But it’s something I’m wearing for you. For later. When we’re alone.”

“Kenzie.” His mouth crushed against hers as she finished attaching the second cufflink; his tongue fell against her and she gasped against him, his longing palpable, a heady taste from him. His long fingers came to her throat, thumb pressing up towards her chin. “I’m ready to call this whole thing off. I want you right now.”

Kenzie had pulled away from him; she felt the reluctance in his fingers as he let go of her. You want me right there, I know, right up against your hand, your mouth. Just wait a little longer, you know the wait makes it sweeter, you know it does…

“Nothing could make you sweeter, Mackenzie Shepherd,” he’d whispered, the burning in his eyes threatening to set her aflame. “I want you alone.”

“Behave, Mr. Shepherd, or you won’t get your other presents.” Kenzie drifted a hand down from her neck, between her breasts and against the mound between her legs. She watched Duncan throw his head back, his adam’s apple bobbing; saw the wetness in his gaze for her, felt in his thoughts his desire to press his mouth to where her hand rested.

“I have to get dressed now,” she’d whispered, and Duncan had bitten into his lip, his fingers now toying with the cufflinks. “Time for your Ariadne to wear her stars.”

The dress Morgan had created for her was delicately intricate. It had a bodice of embroidered gold that dipped low over her breasts, and open sleeves made of black, sheer tulle with golden starbursts woven across their surface, concentrations of them at the crooks of her elbows and along the edges. A full, sheer black tulle skirt fell beyond the bodice; embroidered into it were dozens of golden constellations from the night sky, and her legs were visible through the transparent fabric behind them, a black bodysuit built into lower part of the gold bodice to cover her groin. Kenzie loved how marvelously comfortable it was in its beauty; she stood from the styling chair now as Duncan watched her, finished with her preparations, and twirled in a wide circle under his gaze, grinning to him as people rushed around them. Kenzie knew a hundred more would be arriving soon; she leaned down to his ear, whispering as his hand came against her waist. “Next year, we’re doing our birthday party alone, baby. Just the two of us.” Duncan moaned a little against her cheek; his curls brushed her lips as he nodded. Yes, Kenzie. Yes. Just me and you. I grow so tired of these parties. When the garden house is built and we’ve set everything in motion, then we’ll rest alone, in each other’s arms.

Momby and Annette arrived soon after, both wearing striking black; Annette in custom-tailored Diane von Furstenberg that fell to the floor, Momby in a black pantsuit with the medusa earrings Annette had gifted her; she’d been really warming to her role on the Shepherd Unlimited board, and it made Kenzie smile to see the deepening bond that seemed to be growing between their mothers after all the strife of years gone by. Claire and Harris came just as a slew of other guests were beginning to stream into the penthouse; Harris in a striking velvet blazer that Kenzie knew immediately must have been Claire’s doing. Claire wore a beautiful, flowing mauve v-neck gown, with a banded waist and a heavenly cascading skirt to her feet. Kenzie crushed her friend in her arms, breathing in her soft smell, sensing her happiness.

Kenzie and Duncan were keeping the bedroom door locked for this party, having agreed it was too sacred a space to them to let the prying eyes of the guests and photographers into it. Every tidbit of information about their lives was now being unearthed to the public, it seemed--or at least mine, Kenzie thought. Duncan’s used to all the scrutiny, but I’m not used to my old high school photos spreading like wildfire on Instagram, which had happened several times recently. A mountain of gold-wrapped gifts had begun to accumulate on the cherrywood dining table in the far room; Kenzie watched Duncan move elegantly among their guests, politician and celebrity alike, with an ease that made her feel weak. He was always meant to be this person; wonderfully gentle, staggering in his beauty now because it shines out from within. I watched Claire Underwood’s face this time, when we met with her together; she saw the sheen of us too, and her heart was changed towards him. Now he can will things into this world, can sway the hearts of people like I can, can calm them, can heal them. He’s doing it now, I can see it.

She clutched him with nervous elation as the guests had gathered around them to toast to their mutual birthdays--Duncan had dipped a hand down around the bottom of her waist, holding her close as he raised his champagne flute into the air; the raised voices of a hundred people around them singing out happy birthday were drowned in the rushing of her ears, the fervor of her thoughts for him, and as he had longed for her in the study, anxious for the time to pass, now she was longing for him, for their own private celebration. Throughout the rest of the night, Kenzie found her thoughts constantly drifting onto Ariadne, wishing she could steal away to the bedroom to study it, memorize its strokes. Goddess, I can’t believe it’s mine. I’ll always see your face in it, he said. I’ll only see you. She knew it would look down on them through many passionate nights to come; knew it would bless them, her soft face turned to the sky, full of contentment, in the nimbus of evening. She’ll watch over us tonight, won’t she, when I finally have him in my arms.

Kenzie realized, as the night wore slowly on, that her power, her sheen, was slowly working on the guests; they drifted, as if in a dream, back out into the night. The penthouse had begun to empty in a quiet, unassuming way, the chatter of small-talk dissipating, the music quieting supernaturally. The moon was back to a waxing gibbous as the weeks had worn on; back to almost being full, reminding her of the Gala and its strangeness, the full moon staring down on them. The ring of protection she’d felt from it that night also seemed present on this evening, kindling her powers up. In the dress she felt closer to her true self than ever; as close as she had ever been to this High Princess she now knew resided in her, even more than the gold dress she’d worn for the Gala. She could see Duncan recognizing it in her too, could see him registering the way she had begun to silently, soothingly end the party. He stared at her from where Nike rested by the picture window, a glass of red wine dangling from between the crook of his fingers, a small smile playing around his mouth. Just watching you work, my love. I love to watch you use your powers. How easy it all comes to you. Your destiny so clearly in motion. His position reminded her of the first time she’d seen him, gazing out with longing and boredom into the night, another long-gone wine glass held in his hand on the balcony, another long-gone smile having played on the corners of his mouth.

But not gone, not really, Kenzie knew. Alive forever in my heart and my memory, and alive in the part of time that never ends. Alive forever because there is no time, not really, not for us. She made us that way; so we’d live beyond time, and in every time we would endure.

She watched Claire lean up to kiss Harris’ mouth as they slipped out the door--Claire glanced at her and blew a kiss then, seeming to either not know or not care at the impulse to leave so fast, and Kenzie smiled at her. Deep in her heart, Claire has always known who I was. That’s what drew her to me so long ago, she was the moth, I was the flame that would always warm her. And in return she’s given me such light from her soul. I don’t know why I deserved her, but to see her infinite joy lately has been a joy to me. She deserves every good thing. Madeline and Annette slid away next, talking with each other animatedly, Annette bursting into laughter over something Madeline said (they are always laughing together now--Annette, who didn’t laugh for so long, and my sweet and silly Momby, my Momby who is so strong and so beautiful); Kenzie didn’t mind that they didn’t even look up to her and Duncan. She could feel the strength of her own spell, like a strong wave, a tide that was inexplicable in its mighty demand. She could feel the intensity of Duncan’s gaze mounting, the wonderment in it.

This is the strongest thing like it I’ve ever felt from you, Kenzie, he thought. This is magnificent.

I want you. I want everyone to leave.

Erik was the last to leave; he had champagne flutes in either hand, and he raised them together, throwing his head back.

“To the new world, my exalted darlings!” he crowed, then drank both off in succession; and then in a whirl of magenta sleeve, the big black penthouse door snapped shut behind him, and they were finally alone.

Duncan paused, setting his glass beside Nike carefully. You give me honey, give me honey, honey, honey, honey...Kenzie heard the entreaty of his prayer, the lilt of it, drifting like autumn leaves in the swathe of his thoughts. I will toil for her throughout every age, give myself to her in agonizing piousness, if she would but touch me again, I would suffer any pain, for her touch soothes any ill away like healing rain...my Princess of Stars. My Queen of Roses.

“Come to me,” she whispered. Duncan did--he closed the space between them with a weary swiftness that broke over her like a gust of jasmine-scented wind. His hands came down her neck, immediate, needy; he towered over her, but she knew, as I knew that first night at the first touch from him, the touch he begged to give me, and I consented, that he was hers utterly, hers to command, and he would obey anything she asked, obey her with complete devotion, kiss the bottoms of her feet if she asked him to, kiss every inch of her until the sun rose after the long night.

“Kiss me, beloved,” and she felt his fingers pulling the starry headband gently from her scented hair, the better to bury himself against her--he dropped it to the floor, its sapphires winking up, forgotten by them both; the press of his darkness was so luxuriant to Kenzie in this moment she wanted to wail. His mouth stopped any sound, though; stopped the furious pounding of her heart, the nerves she suddenly felt, knowing she could command him despite all his marvelous beauty, her perception of his power. You are more powerful than I, he told her. I worship you above myself, above all others, above everything, even above the Goddess Herself, and She has forgiven me, She has accepted my perfect love for you as a tribute to Her, and in Her eyes, it is good. She is not a jealous being; from her heart is benevolence, the recognition of all that is well and lovely. She’s deemed us the best of these things, Princess Exultant. So fuck me; tell me to fuck you. I’m yours to command in all worship.

“Undress me,” she breathed into him, and Duncan’s hands found the crevices of her dress, the delicate zipper at her back; he yanked it down with hands that seemed to burn, and as it fell away his eyes rolled back to behold what she wore beneath it; it was another exquisite lingerie, this one rose-gold and so fragile it seemed to be made of the gossamer strands of a spider’s silk--there were tiny white bows on either strap and in the center of the bra between Kenzie’s breasts, and more on the panties. The top of the suspender at her waist were dipped into unique panels, the panties entirely sheer but for a small swath of fabric over the lips of her sex. The white straps of the suspender dipped over her thighs to sheer stockings. The starry dress fell to the floor (falling stars, us falling to earth so long ago) and Duncan’s hand pressed up, roughly, to the space between her legs, lifted her into his mouth again as he did.

“I have one more thing for you,” she hummed against him, and he moaned into her; she could feel the hardness between his legs through his dark ensemble as she brought her fingers against him, could see the flushing in his beautiful cheeks. “Let’s go in our bedroom, Dunny. Let’s look in our Mirror and fuck. I’m gonna tie you up again. But in the bed this time.”

“Baby,” he cried against her, and she stepped back, making him come to her, stepping out of the dress in the same golden strapped heels she’d worn the night they met, knowing he would notice them again. She turned, her hair falling down her back to the top of her ass, and knew he’d see the back of the panties, too; totally sheer. For him.

“Come on, Prince Duncan, I’m gonna rip your fucking clothes off,” she said, and then Kenzie laughed; she thought of her Ariadne in repose as it came into view, thought of Bacchus in the next room, its figures in rapture. Come to me, come to me, she weaved her spell, and he was pressing against her, the warmth at his crotch making her eyes flutter closed as his lips fell on her ear, and he sucked.

She turned into him, her body folding so small against him, and she insistently began to undress him; the Givenchy coat fluttered to the floor, the snap of his belt rang out, and he was gasping against her, astounded at her need, fixated by it. Soon he was utterly naked, and Kenzie pushed him roughly onto the bed, staring openly at the strain of his thick erection.

“Don’t you dare fucking move, baby. You’re not allowed.”

“Uh huh, Kenzie. I won’t.”

She went to the closet where she’s carefully hid his last present; grasped it in her fingers, the hardness and largeness of it making warmth pool in her belly. She grasped the velvet rope, too; and when she brought them out she eagerly watched Duncan’s cock jump with anticipation.

“Happy birthday, baby,” she whispered. “I’m gonna tie you up now. And then I’m gonna use my new plug on myself. It’s a lot bigger than the other one...look at how big it is. I’m gonna push this big plug into my tiny little ass and then you’re gonna eat my little cunt--and then I’m gonna ride you hard, and fuck you senseless.”

She held it up to him and a tiny, strangled sound escaped from Duncan’s throat; oh fuck me, he thought. Kenzie, angel, fucking fuck me.

She came to the edge of the bed, setting both objects down on it gently; Duncan’s fingers curled at her toes as she lifted one of her feet to undo the straps at her ankle, then the other. Then she climbed on top of him, straddling him, gripping him under his chin harshly for a moment, hissing as he tried to put his arms up around her; Duncan stopped and lowered them, swallowing; she could feel that he knew what she wanted. His submission. I want you to be mine only in this moment. Watch me tie you up in the Mirror, baby. Watch.

As Kenzie lifted his well-formed arms up to the slats of the headboard, the blooming flowers stretched above them, throwing down clouds of deep scent. Duncan’s aching blue eyes drifted to their reflection; she heard him groan again at the shape of her in the rosy-sheened lingerie, and felt his wonder at their loveliness together as she began to twist the ribbon around his wrists, anchoring him to the bed.

As she finished, reaching for the coconut oil they always kept on the nightstand now, Duncan strained against the ropes, dipping his thighs up to try to keep the pressure of her against him, desperate to touch her.

“Shhh, baby, be calm. Don’t get too excited yet,” Kenzie whispered, letting her face fall close to him and her breath drift over him. Duncan leaned up, trying to kiss her; she leaned away, eliciting another sound of terrible frustration from him. She dipped her hand into the oil, and first she leaned behind where she was sitting on his belly, to the aching length of his cock--she slathered the oil over it, tightening her grip, and Duncan let out a cry that stirred wild warmth through her body. Then she let go of him, lifting off him, pulling the sheer panties away, and turned on him so her back was facing him from her newly-straddled position, her sex pressing gently against the length of his cock. She watched his face over her shoulder as his eyes went hazy on her; as they gazed at her sliding the wetness of the oil over the pucker of her ass, then gripping the larger plug in two fingers, wetting it too.

“You want me to fuck myself with this, huh, baby?”

Duncan groaned, his head falling back on the pillow, his eyes fluttering wildly, neck bobbing as if in terrible thirst. “Fucking god, Kenzie, yes, holy fuck, I can’t--”

“Duncan, breathe.”

Duncan sucked in a shuddering breath; let it out. His cock strained; Kenzie didn’t touch it, only let her hand hover near.

“Dunny, ask me. You have to ask me.” Kenzie tossed her hair and grinned at him.

“Kenzie, please, will you fuck yourself with that plug? Fucking please, oh fuck, please, angel--”

Kenzie moaned in anticipation as she pressed the tip of the head against her ass; then, in a harsh determination, forced the large plug inside the wetness she’d made there; she cried up into the ceiling, her head falling back immediately with the immensity of its pressure, and then she slid up to him, her ass still facing him, until she knew she’d reached his chin.

“Tell me to sit on your face, baby,” she whispered now, staring at him through their reflection in the mirror.

“Kenzie, holy--sit on my fucking face, baby--” His eyes were wild with need, his mouth shivering; Kenzie lifted her hips and fell on him, and his tongue immediately pressed to her sweetest, most sensitive spot.

“Love for all time,” Kenzie murmured, ��look into my eyes, most beloved,” and Duncan’s eyes (every storm, every sky, every piece of heaven, every notion of god) were in hers as her body hovered against his mouth, through the iridescent surface of the Mirror, which Kenzie knew glowed with the hints of that golden Sphere which once was hers, a Sphere she couldn’t imagine the shape of, but knew as innately as she knew her own heart, her own skin. The plug was so heavy and so harsh against her she couldn’t stop herself from crying out again and again; she leaned down, gripping the base of Duncan’s cock, keeping him terribly hard as he sucked on her; then she lifted away from him and he gasped. “No, Kenzie, come back to me--”

“Shhh. It’s time for us to fuck, baby. When we fuck, it’s fucking holy.”

Kenzie slid down, letting the wetness between her legs leave a trail on Duncan’s torso, down his belly--then, staring at him, his achingly beautiful mouth damp with her cunt, she ground down onto his cock, as hard as she had ever felt, and bucked her hips, her ass still facing him so he could see the plug, this one with a jewel of dark blue, deep inside her.

“As you are mine,” she cried softly, “I am yours, and heaven sees it, and knows it, and we are holy to her, beloved, fuck--” Kenzie felt her hair falling against her back, shivering-soft, felt the heat of his skin as she gripped his thighs, bearing down on him--their eyes met again in the Mirror, his mouth stretched open in silent adoration of her, and Kenzie knew, with a fervent and absolute knowledge, that they were bright in the eyes of heaven; that their divinity was absolute, and all their work would be good unto this world from here on.

“Kenzie, how I love you, have loved you, how I worship you--”

But the truth of him was in his mind, the fall of his thoughts inside his worship of her, and she knew that, had always known, had always felt that the truth of his beauty was there, within, wordless, a language that could never be spoken aloud, and oh Goddess, what a blessing that I can see it--his fairness in the sight of heaven is the beauty of his soul, as quiet, as profound, as infinite as an evening star. And so you called him that; and as I saw him in that aspect, he was mine.

5 notes · View notes