#then she was like 'you purchased these materials without getting the purchase approved' and i was like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

texshire-books · 1 year ago

Text

Chosen by Sadie Stern - an excerpt.

Fiona

I can’t believe I’m masturbating. While that act is not unusual for me, what is unusual are the circumstances which have taken my hand between my legs tonight and compelled me to run my fingers through its slippery folds and rub myself to climax. Normally, I’d watch porn, sometimes a passage within a book will turn me on so much, the inevitable journey of my hands in a downward direction is the only end result. Never before have I felt this need after just a brief chance encounter with someone who has made an impression of seismic proportion. As I continue to rub myself, I’m thinking back to that moment earlier. I was visiting a new bookstore in town. Some might smile at my description. It’s just called Heaven and for some, certainly not all, that is precisely what it is. The windows are plain. Opaque coverings inside mask its contents. Most bookstores place their wares in full view, after all, what is a book store without…… books? Now we are down to semantics; the study of meaning. Inside, some might argue over genre, even content. The books and magazines on sale in Heaven are not for everyone and those I have purchased have been the normal material for the purpose of masturbation.

I was leaving. Unusually I’d not seen anything to rouse my ardour. My period was due and while I became horny over the week that followed, it was the days preceding that took the spring out of my step. I reached the door which opened just as I arrived. That was when I saw her. I looked up and there she was. Tall, five ten in her heels. Dark haired and sultry, elegant in a way that only good breeding can achieve. High class and obviously well connected. So why is she entering Heaven, hardly Waterstones, this a down market, seedy book joint favoured mostly by men seeking good wanking material for later. Our eyes met. Hers were a vivid green, like a cat. She smiled as those same eyes bored into mine, then her pink tongue appeared and ran itself along her top lip. She slowly nodded too, she approved of what she could see. I shivered as I realised, she had licked her lips, just as anyone would having savoured a juicy raw steak and wondered how long she dare place it under the grill before it was served up on a plate ready for a welcoming mouth. I had a place for that mouth and especially a searching tongue. That place was wet already from my searching of a different sort, words meant to arouse and those lay behind me in their millions as I stepped out of the bookshop and maintaining eye contact throughout.

She slid past, moving in the opposite direction. Within seconds the door would close and the same window coverings which also extended to the door would block her out of my view. She’d be gone, what then? I turned and looked while the door slowly closed; one last smile and the briefest of flicks of pinkness from what I imagined was a probing tongue. Then she really was gone. What now, I could hang around like a lost puppy. A stray? Wait to have a collar placed around my neck and be led home? I laughed, that only happened in the books I liked to read. My name is Fiona Jones, I am submissive. I am lesbian too; I’m twenty-one years of age and I have recently graduated from university. I’d love to stay and see what happened when the door opened and she re-emerged. I wondered if she’d carry a bag, whose weight would determine how many books she had purchased. The question would be, which books? I couldn’t stay, I had an interview the following day and I needed to prepare. I was highly aroused now, my panties, if you could call what a wore by that name, were sodden and these needed replacing too. I’d have the irresistible urge to masturbate but I’d leave that until bedtime when I could get my box of toys working. Thankfully I kept a good supply of batteries in the same box and tonight I knew they would be put to good use.

I’d seen the advertisement for a personal assistant in a magazine. It was a graphic design business and its chief executive Ginevra Calivari was seeking a new personal assistant. I was puzzled by the type of magazine her company, Unique had placed its advert, it suggested its intention was to find someone with a certain je ne sais quoi? Did I have that certain undefinable quality? I wrote off more in hope than expectation. A recent photo was required and I had one taken by a friend when I had attended a final graduation party which certainly met the required timescales. I guess I can best be described as chic, tiny and with elfin features framed by a short boyish hairstyle which suited my blonde hair. I wore a party dress which ended well above the knee. Much further and I might have exposed too much. You see, that dress was all I wore! I can’t believe it even now, I’d been selected, short listed for interview and it was tomorrow!

I’m in bed now and those mysterious green eyes are plaguing my thinking. My hand is in its normal place, my fingers working their magic between my legs. I’m wet, when am I ever not wet. I’ve always been highly sexual. From the earliest of age, I’d placed a mirror, propped against my headboard and I’d lain on my back with my knees raised and my legs well apart. I was fascinated by my split, hairless mound. I knew my pink lips spilled out without any assistance. But I’d pull back my folds and expose its pink sodden contents. Even at eight I’d get wet and I quickly found where to rub and create an extraordinary sensation. Who knows what a climax is at that age? I did! I saw this pink bud peering out of its hooded protective hiding place. I wondered what it was? I soon found out the moment I touched it. I found this almost electric shiver run up my spine which stopped immediately I removed my finger from its tip. Rubbing it and encircling it brought on another feeling altogether. I’d watched my mother cook; she said milk had to be watched intently and as it rose up the side of the pan, the trick was to take it off the heat to prevent it spilling over. I soon learned to tease myself, prolong that moment. I now know the term edging describes this. Then, when I knew the inevitable result of continuing would create a messy explosion, I’d stop and start again. My mother took me to the doctor concerned I’d developed late-stage bed wetting but I knew different. I learned to take a towel to bed and I was suddenly cured of my affliction.

My mirror exploration didn’t stop at my clitoris. I now know its name of course. I looked at its depths; there was a void which begged its own exploration and it was certainly getting plenty tonight as I worked my new phallic object in and out. In my early exploration I found another place too if I lifted my bottom higher and parted my cheeks. This was pink too but something considered a rather forbidden place. Wasn’t that it’s appeal though? Didn’t everyone go and see, even enter a place forbidden entry? I knew then I could only be attracted to such anatomy. I learned at convent school that boys were different. I learned a lot about sin, sinful actions, and especially sinful thoughts. I was in the shower one day and a girl stood nearby. I reached out and touched her. She screamed and the consequences were dramatic. I found myself held over a desk later a nun holding my wrists while another crouched down and held my ankles. My bottom was bared and I bit my lip and refused to scream while a thick strap was applied multiple times to my bottom. Later, another sin as a masturbated in bed, my still warm bottom signalling another pleasure had been discovered - pain!

#lesbianlove #bd/sm community #lgbtreaders #lgbtbooks #readingcommunity

4 notes · View notes

the-firebird69 · 11 months ago

Text

All of are brand new on all of our vehicles and all of our kids that you purchased with the chassis are brand new. None of them have seen the roadway or tar in any way

It's going like this we got some questions but not too many they assumed it's brand new and it is brand new but it's a good point to say and we do stick with the exact model and we don't veer from the model that we say we're using and we include literature on all of the parts and so forth from the original vehicle and we tell you what there is in it and it's not very hard the computer does lots of the work

We do double check all of the literature every single letter

And then we published the final copies in the review and then issue and we are prepping to do so we will have a series of new cars and it's all the first model the Lamborghini Diablo hellcat lrs and it will be released next Monday and we are issuing the first sales on people have purchased about 10,000 of them and they are about $185,000 each and this car is a $3 million car and the reason why they're a little bit more than $150,000 is the upgraded speed kit which does bring it to the same speed as the actual Lamborghini Diablo 720 mph they're only three other supercars produced that are not custom then go that fast

Meghan Markle and yeah this marketing approach is intense and it's basically because the kids will be mostly used on used vehicles and we don't provide any used vehicle all of our chassis are new and it makes a big difference to people and our cars are all brand new it is a new car production facility

We approve this to publish

Olympus

This is a lot of fun it's getting calls from all sorts of women no a couple and he thinks it's her and it is her but still he's kind of like hoping to get some sort of something and she's going to put together but she said she'll wait for more sales because he said it and she's going to get a ton they'll see these things out there Megan Merkel and they will actually probably doing sane they will go insane he says and turn into nutcases overnight and you'll have another babbling Brook bunch of people I do agree this is going to make people insane it's so cool this idea is so cool

Hera

What is the interior quality level and what is it made of

Shaquille O'Neal

It is a complete replica and was selling it as such and the chassis being different makes it something they won't complain about much hopefully but it is a complete replica inside of the Lamborghini Diablo and the originals and the new one and we do have different years and we're offering different years the newer ones are $25,000 more and weather without the speed kit if you add that it's another $25,000 but they have the crushed Corinthian leather and it is real then they're going to have to increase production and we told them that and they have all of the inside parts are identical materials and they are the same exact knobs and dials the dash is made out of the same patent leather and we research where and the seats of course are made in the same way we do have replica seats we purchase out from a different supplier but they have the same filler and the same Corinthian leather on the outside and the company carpeting and roof interior is all the same on the lighting fixtures everything is a direct match by color and quality of course it's not the same supplier

Meghan Markle

Great so it's replica quality they have a grade and they'll probably bring it up later but to begin with the price is outrageous the speed is outrageous and the materials are pretty much the same as the original if you don't know the Lamborghini Diablo is made from frprcr and it is a certain mix and hers looks like it's the same if not very close and it does have an enclosure like the Lamborghini Diablo does this is one of my favorite vehicles and I'm going to buy some now and I can't believe it's my grandson again and he's hoping that I speak to Megan Merkel and try and get something for going ahead with this and she can help us and I do have a great outrageous ideas this is a terrific marketing approach and he should get a stipend and social security would be in a fight and we want that fight and yeah we're big

Shaquille O'Neal and yeah I'm saying it you little wise ass he says I'm not going to be little for long and all the comments will probably stop and I'll say that's terrific it really is

That's great Chris it is terrific and that's all I'm going to say well I'm going to order some this is terrific but really you stopping talking is just great he says it is true I think I'm going to pass out right now from lack of oxygen and that's true too it takes energy and I am going to go ahead and get him something maybe this is a great idea they're going to be loved by my people and their replicas and you can do it legally and I can't believe it these things are going to be awesome how far do you have to go not very far she's right near us I tell you what I think I'm going to order 20 of them to start and see what the quality is and how it runs this is intense I've never seen anything like this idea in the new one is available I don't believe this I got to see this

The Rock

It's real and we're making them and I hope you come down and see us tomorrow we have it in the shop and we have pamphlets and leaflets already made up and it's it's a beautiful vehicle and this guy is nuts but he is a designer and that's what he does and it's an awesome idea I've never seen so much response in my life and he says he wants to see you in the movie did you see them in the background and it's probably mine and I can't believe it it's a marketing deal and I can get you stuff for doing it

Meghan Markle

I think you're in the movie but that's okay and we can do it together

The Rock

I don't want you doing anything together I'm not an old maid but you have to watch it buddy

Camilla

Yeah I will you look similar now I know what to do and there's nothing

The Rock

We do give permission to print

Olympus

This is awesome people are coming out and actually talking to her and she wants to get it going a little faster and she's got both and they're making the molds and they're going to get prototypes up and she's going to start production and try and shoot for Monday for getting a whole bunch of them out and she's going out and getting chassis and yes the Midwest and elsewhere and the upper Midwest and she can order chassis if she has to she said that too and they do sell it or she can go buy new ones and he suggested she goes and buys new ones and they're only about $60,000 now they're $40,000 she says why would I go buy new ones off the lot and he says in case you can't get chassis so she's going to go buy a bunch and she knows what he means and you can also put those on top of a different chassis and she's smiling and say that's ridiculous stupid crap you're talking about

Hera

0 notes

bigbadredpanda · 4 years ago

Note

Hi,, I hope I'm not bothering you with this and I'm sorry if my English isn't good, I hope you can understand my questions. I've been thinking about this for a while now and I tried to find information online but I found nothing.

MDZS is the first Chinese Novel I've read and I still haven't finished it yet,,but I've heard about rumors that said that MXTX is in jail, because she sold copies of her books. The rumor isn't true, however it made me wonder something,, I know China's censorship on lgbt related stuff is really heavy and that's why the donghua and drama adaptations of MDZS and other bl works are censored, but I didn't know that authors couldn't sell their novels.

So my question is,, how does MXTX earn money if she isn't allowed to sell her works? She has already finished 3 Danmei novels, and her works are really popular, they even have manhua, donghua or drama adaptations. The adaptations have earned quite a lot of money, but since she's an anonymous writer, does part of it even go to her?

To make the drama, the donghua and the manhua, producers had to ask her permission, I think. So, since the adaptations are doing well, she should get part of the profit, but how does it work? If the Chinese Government really is against lgbt themed works, shouldn't they have done something about her?

I really love her works and I hope that she earns something since she is the one that created all of them. Thanks for considering my question!!

Hi both of you and welcome to the cnovel fandom! Quick intro of the author, MXTX uses a pen name like many webnovel authors, it’s the abbreviation of Mo Xiang Tong Xiu which literally means “Ink Fragrance, Copper [Money] Stench” (墨香铜臭). Fun fact, it’s her mother who coined that name. MXTX wished to pursue a major in literature during university but her mother wanted her to graduate in economy instead while keeping writing on the side, that way she would have the fragrance of ink in one hand and the stench of money in the other.

We also know that she is fairly young, she wrote Scum Villain while she was a university student and she started working on the outline of MDZS in her final year. Tian Guan Ci Fu (Heaven Official’s Blessing) is the third book she completed and a fourth novel is/was in the works, its provisional title is “No rest for the death god” and is supposed to be a supernatural story taking place in a modern setting.

MXTX is one of the most popular webnovel authors on Jinjiang Literature City, the webnovel platform, but her popularity also comes with a great many detractors. You’ve heard some of the malicious rumours circulating in the English-speaking side of the fandom, it’s just a drop in the ocean compared to the outpouring of heated controversies in the Chinese side as the latter can have real-life consequences. There is a different nexus between the creator and the audience and the fandom culture is not the same either, it can be quite deleterious due to the tendency to report any content that one disagrees with.

Censorship in China is... ever-changing and nebulous. How severe it is depends on the medium. Nevertheless, gay literature (同志文学) does exist in China and it is distinct from danmei. I also want to nuance a bit the pervasive idea that anything lgbt is systematically and relentlessly censored in China. The reality is more complex than that and it would be dismissive of the hard-fought gains and visibility that Chinese lgbt activists have obtained these past two decades (some concrete examples: the work of the lgbt centre in Beijing or the pride festival in Shanghai). I don’t know if people are aware of this but lgbt dating apps are thriving in China, the most popular one, Blued, is also the largest lgbt social network worldwide. With that said, the official policy towards homosexuality is the three No’s: “no approval, no disapproval, no promotion”. A stance comparable to the “don’t ask, don’t tell”. It’s not explicit persecution but it manifests in the silencing of public discussion and the limiting media representation of homosexuality. In 2017, the top media regulator that oversaw radio, film and television issued guidelines banning a number of things, this included obscene and violent content, homosexuality, superstitious pseudoscience (such as reincarnation or spirit possession). On top of that, there is also an ongoing crackdown on online pornography that gets increasingly intense. And that concerns everyone on the internet, it’s astonishing the lengths netizens will go to in order to circumvent the censorship, new slang is developed to refer obliquely to banned words, fanfics are published in image format to prevent text recognition, etc... The censorship might be increasingly prevalent but netizens push back with their resourcefulness. Pushing back is also not without significant risk. Perhaps you have heard of the case of the danmei author that received a severe jail sentence? A few Western media picked up on that and criticised the ruling that was deemed homophobic. Chinese reactions tell a slightly different story, the author's crime was not writing danmei, she was in fact accused of making a profit by illegally producing and disseminating pornographic material. I’m not too keen on the details but it seems she printed the books herself and sold them online. To some Chinese observers, the ruling was not discriminatory because she did break the law. To others, it was absurd because this law dates from an era when internet barely existed and it would have been much more laborious to mass-produce and share porn at that time. There’s a bit of truth in all these points of views. It’s also not disingenuous to say that lgbt content is more likely to be targeted than het content even if the charges are not directly lgbt-related.

Usually contracted authors of webnovel platforms have a more secure status. They get a fee from the purchase of VIP chapters as well as tips from the readers. Other sources of revenue arise when webnovels get popular enough to get the opportunity to be published through official channels or when adaptation rights are sold (I assume that the author receives a share of that deal but perhaps does not get any further financial gain from the adaptation or its merch).

To support the author, I would suggest purchasing TGCF on Jinjiang (guide) or buying the physical versions of her three novels in Chinese (shop, change to English with top-right world icon), the special boxsets of MDZS and TGCF come with tons of goodies!

Hope I could be of service and that my tirade was mildly informative ^^'

#mxtx #answers #nerdsupreme #meandering thoughts #trashysiomai

482 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

Text

If You Leave Me Now

Summary: Ms. Oh’s letter gives Cha-young courage to say what’s in her heart.

Author’s Note: Back with another Chayenzo fic and surprisingly no angst this time, today’s episode inspired me to write this. Also fulfilled my Chayenzo fic prompt, this is what you call efficiency ladies and gents LOL I wanted to write sweet emotionally stunted Vinny and brave CY trying to let him know that he deserves love, hope you enjoy!

She doesn’t know what she had been expecting from the letter, initially she had thought it would simply be a thank you note-though it was unnecessary Ms. Oh was always very grateful and seemed to think that her mere existence was a nuisance to those around her. The woman had been so beaten down by life and she feels a sense of pride that her father spent all these years caring for someone that all others had all but thrown away after destroying her. She would never be as intrinsically good and right as her late father, she had too much blood and bad deeds on her hands to be sanctified but helping the powerless, she had enough heart left to see that this was something she cared about.

She had spent years following her mother’s untimely death hardening herself and convincing herself that others didn’t matter to her. She was an island and she needed no one else. This was her mantra as she worked her way up the social ladder at Wusang and purchased more and more temporary happiness in the form of bags and pretty suits, materialism filled the void that was left by her lack of any true love in her life.

She gently folds back up the letter, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks the words still tugging at her heart.

The woman had come to terms with her fate, knowing that while we are all essentially dying each day her days were numbered and their was an expiration date lingering in the imminent future. But it wasn’t those words that made her cry it was the words she has never seen coming.

It seemed the only people they were lying to were each other.

Ms. Oh knew.

Had known all this time and hadn’t deigned herself worthy of revealing the secret and getting the opportunity to hear that sacred word that only one person could anoint her with.

Eomeoni.

“It’s enough that I get to see him. He has grown up so well without me.”

It must have been torture for the poor woman to see the very son she had given away and not be able to hold him or hear his voice as he called her mother, her smile never quite reached her eyes when he called her Ms. Oh. It was as if she was quietly waiting and suffering for the day when he would slip and reveal their true relationship but if her partner was anything he was steadfast and stubborn. He wouldn’t be saying a word, at least without a nudge.

His words echo in her memory, “People like me don’t deserve love.”

it was such bullshit and cop out but she recognized it for what it was, a convenient shield from his feelings. If he believed that he didn’t have any right to love then he would avoid the pain that came from loving someone, the expectations and the vulnerability.

Squeezing the papers between her shivering fingers she grabs her phone before she can second guess herself, his number is the most recent in her call list. She had called him earlier today to see what he wanted to eat for breakfast tomorrow, it was his day to choose she had chosen last time.

The phone only rings once before he’s answering, his voice is warm honey through the speaker she knows he is laying down in his ridiculously expensive silk pajamas. She absently wonders how it would feel on her skin.

“Hmm what is it?” He answers groggily, sounding sleepy but patient and she can detect no annoyance at her calling so late, instead he sounds concerned and she can hear the faint sounds of him moving.

“I’m okay. You don’t need to get dressed.” He sighs in response, the sounds of movement fading and then it’s silent except the faint coos of Inzaghi in the background. “is Inzaghi keeping you up again? Maybe you should get someone to get rid of him?”

“No! How could I-- I mean no, it’s fine. His coos don’t bother me anymore. I find them soothing.” He replies more passionately than she had expected, he had been many hours cursing the pigeon in the past much to her chagrin but lately it was like he had found a new appreciation for the bird. It was weird. It wasn’t like the bird had saved him or something ludicrous like that so she had no idea why he was behaving like this.

“Okay.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?” He hums on the other line, sounds of the kitchen reaching her ears now, he’s probably making tea he wasn’t much of a fan before but it had slowly grown on him. She had obnoxiously bought him a huge box of tea while she had been staying with him after he’d told her how he only enjoyed coffee- real coffee not the garbage she drank, she forced him to drink them with her every morning until he started making them on his own much to her amusement.

“Drink the chamomile tea, it’ll help you fall asleep.”

After a small pause he answers, “I don’t have trouble falling asleep.”

He lies and she doesn’t call him out, both recalling that night he had woken up sweaty and panicked after a dream. She hadn't questioned him seeing the terror on his face, knowing it wasn’t the right time. She had quietly made him tea and stayed up until he fell asleep, tucking the blanket more snuggly around him.

She listens as the kettle whistles signaling it’s readiness and suddenly she feels ready too, despite the consequences.

“Are you still planning on leaving Korea after you get the gold?” She asks suddenly, a familiar fear pressing on her chest the longer he goes without answering her and she can almost see his face- his wide eyes and the purposeful stoic look firmly in place.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” His voice is tired, desperately so and she can hear the hidden message, “why are you making me face my emotions?” and honestly she doesn’t know why herself, she has never been one to face her own emotions not with matters of the heart. She spent years pretending not to need her father’s approval or love whilst secretly pining and desperate for any attention from him even though she had been the one to push him away first.

It’s your fault she’s dead!

With those vicious words she had ripped her father’s beating heart from his chest and stomped on it with her stiletto heels. Then she had joined Wusang and fought against him, using money and influence to snuff out the hope of innocent people. Maybe Vincenzo was right and people like them didn’t deserve love.

But she was greedy and entitled and others might see that as a flaw but she didn’t care, she wanted this and she deserved it.

“Because I want you to stay.”

There’s no taking it back, the truth is now out there suspended between them and she can hear his gasp on the other line, she’s caught him off guard. Hell, he’s not the only one but she has already shot herself in the foot so there’s no turning back now.

She’s all in.

“I like you.” That’s a lie, the feelings she has for him have mowed past “like” a long time ago and are dangerously close to another L word she’s too chicken shit to admit to him or herself, she has some sense of self preservation and despite those lips devouring her own and stealing any doubts she had about his reciprocation of her feelings, she knows that he is scared of this and he could push her away in some blindsided decision to keep her safe.

“Wh--what?” He stutters out dumbfounded and far less eloquent than the smooth mafia member she has come to know.

It makes her smile softly, she feels honored to get to see this side of him. A side that he only shows to her.

“I’m happy that you came to Korea and that we met. That you met my father and for a little while you were on his side. That you accepted me after everything and that you have never judged me. Meeting you as been the best luck I’ve ever stumbled on, Vincenzo Cassano.”

The silence is deafening and she vaguely wonders if he has hung up too overwhelmed with her sudden confession and fleeing instead but the screen still says his name, “Corn Salad” when she pulls it back to peer at the screen.

“I know you don’t think you belong here in Korea, you don’t think it’s your home. But I’m learning that home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be people too and the feeling you get around them. You showed me that.” Her heart is thundering now but she feels relieved to say this out loud too, if anything were to happen to either one of them it would break her if he never knew how she felt, what he meant to her.

“Me? I showed you that?” He whispers stunned and she can hear the soft rustle of him sitting down, had she made him weak in the knees? She can only hope so.

“Yes. I have lived here my whole life but I never felt as seen or accepted until I met you. You feel like home.”

“Cha-young ah.”

She waits to see if there will be more but that’s all he says, her name like it’s a sermon. It’s the first time he has called her by her first name despite how close they’ve grown in the past months. It sounds like music to her ears, not that opera noise he’s always listening to despite her complaining-loudly- each time she comes over but real music, the kind you would put on during those summer days where you let your hair whip in the breeze. The kind that remains in your heart even after summer has long ended and fall creeps around the corner with a cool entrance.

“I’m happy you’re here and I want this to be your home now. I don’t want you to run away, we both want you to stay.”

His breath is erratic over the line, even more so than when she had found him injured in the underpass. She lets him process her words giving him time that nobody else has ever received from her in the past, with him she wants to be someone who can be patient, he is worth the wait.

“Why are you telling me all this? Why now?” He pleads sounding tortured and when he sniffles she wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and wrap him up in her arms, he sounds so young and confused.

“I don’t want to have any regrets. Not with you.” She answers honestly, the letter staring at her from the table words catching her eyes.

“I can’t let him know how much he means to me. I know it is not my place to ask this but please love him dearly and let him know he is important and needed everyday. Letting him go was my biggest regret, I hope you will be stronger than I was.”

Like she had a choice anyway, she had told herself many times that she shouldn’t have feelings for him but every time she saw him smile or watched him torture someone to get them closer to taking down Babel all of her logic went out the window and she couldn’t help but imagine a life for them after this was all over. Korea, Italy, Malta, it didn't matter where they went as long as they were together. She had no intention of letting him go, not without a fight.

If that made her a villian so be it, he had been the one to train her how to be one in the first place.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you. I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

A long pause follows her apology and with a sigh she goes to end the call, he hadn’t outright rejected her and that was more than she had been expecting. She would regroup and make a thorough presentation of why they belonged together and why exactly he should either stay in Korea or let her go with him after they defeated those corrupt scumbags.

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” He admits, forgetting his earlier denial of this very fact.

“Are you drinking the tea?”

“Yes, I am. You left so many of them here. I told you I’m not a tea drinker.” He states contrary with the loud slurping she hears over the phone.

If she were anyone else his seeming dismissal through ignoring her confession would be heart breaking but she knows him too well now, is too aware of the dark inner workings of his mind and much he is overthinking every word she has uttered and cataloguing every reason that they shouldn’t be together, her safety is most likely top of the list. Old habits die hard and regardless of her constantly telling him that they should face everything together, she knows that there is still a lot that he hides from her in a guise of protecting her. His story about a nail pulling his suit plays out in her head.

“Tea is best for insomnia. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up first, staring at the picture she had sneakily taken of him when he had been distracted in the office. It had been a long day and he had abandoned his jacket and loosened his tie, a sign that the day had taken its toll on him. She didn’t know what came over her but she found herself picking up her phone and snapping a picture of his side profile, he looked so handsome. When he had looked up and seen her on the phone, she pretended to be texting someone and walked away, her heart racing until he shrugged and looked away.

“I won’t give up on you Vincenzo Cassano.” She promises, putting the letter back into the envelope and making her way to the bathroom to complete her nightly routines.

Face scrubbed and teeth brushed to minty perfection, she walks across the moonlit room tugging down the sheets and crawling in, being so open and honest had been emotionally exhausting.

The things she did for him.

Getting comfortable in her bed she reaches out to plug in her phone to charge, but the tiny envelope icon on her phone catches her attention, she must have received a message while she was in the bathroom. Curious, she swipes her phone open before clicking on the message, she tells herself not to be too hopeful it’s probably not him and she’s going to be disappointed when it’s just a telemarketer trying to get her to switch tv providers.

“Oh,” She stares at the message, the light from the phone the sole source of illumination in the dark room besides the moon glowing through her curtains. She has no words, no thoughts either all she can do is feel and even that is difficult with too many varying emotions raging war in her body. She had tried her damnest not to expect anything, knew that he wasn’t ready to face his feelings and he might never be able to say how he felt about her, his actions would have to be enough. She would have accepted it as enough, having him was more than enough.

But as the message stares up at her, she realizes she had been lying to herself when the wave of unfiltered joy that crashes over her washes away her sandcastles of lies.

You are already my home.

It’s not the passionate confessions that are glorified in dramas, there’s no rain or dramatic slowing down of time, he hasn’t even said those coveted three oh so special words; on the surface he has barely said anything at all but to her his words are a blanket on a cold wintery day, she has only ever wanted someone to stay and now she has found that.

Loving him feels like coming home.

#vincenzo #hong cha young #vincenzo cassano #CCFC2021 #chayenzo #chayenzo living rent free in my mind #soft hours

116 notes · View notes

nishiisenpai · 4 years ago

Text

somebody to someone - tsukishima kei x reader

REQUEST: “ Id love to request a Tsuki x Reader!! Maybe just a angsty fluff of sorts where there has been a lot of drama within their relationship? Like Tsuki’s friend (Could be yams or some1 else) kinda always had a crush on the reader, and maybe at one point one of the readers friends also had a crush on Tsuki, but it’s pretty obvious that they like each other instead. Maybe at the end Tsuki got hurt in a practice match or whatever, and the reader gets super worried- so she goes down to the nurses office to check on Tsuki and like seeing him even the slightest bit hurt causes her to just poor out all her feelings and tell him that she loves him? And happy ending pls where he reciprocates? Tysm 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️✨✨ - @i-smoke-chapstick “

A/N: it has come to my attention that majority of the people visiting my page are here for tsukishima angst. honestly i vibe with that. so i hope i didn’t disappoint in this request, and let’s start shall we? ;)

oh and side note, i didn’t really know how to add in drama without it being cliche, yk? i am trying not to be cliche with my work, but if it happens, it happens.

also i had to rewatch the third season where tsukishima got hurt, so that it would be my reference. (hurt me deadass.)

lastly- i apologize this took so long to be made, school (my science teacher) has been really affecting my mental health badly for the past week so i wasn’t able to create this to the best of my abilities, but i hope that you share and love this as much as you do with my previous works!

WARNING: Angst but with a fluff ending! Also crack cause why not?

WHO: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

ADDITIONAL INFO: F/N means friend’s name.

You’ve always been close with Tsukishima. Quite literally, you both were neighbours. Yamaguchi joined in later after Tsukki stood up for him against those childhood bullies. Plus you on the side intimidating them getting ready to beat the shizzles out of them though Tsukishima dragged your ass back home.

“Earth to Y/N?” Tsukishima’s hand waved in front of your dazed face.

“Tsukki, she’s not breathing,” Yamaguchi had exclaimed. Tsukishima looked at you before bonking you on the head.

“Ow, you lil bitch.” you tsked rubbing your head.

“Yamaguchi got worried, idiot.” Tsukishima replied back and you looked at Yamaguchi who sighed.

“Aww, my pretty baby, were you worried about me~” You wrapped an arm around the back of his neck to bring him down, squishing your cheeks with his and rubbing his hair.

“You’re gonna make him combust.” Tsukishima said with an irritated voice.

“I-it’s fine, Tsukki.” Yams waved him off and Tsukishima rolled his eyes.

“I was just complimenting him...” you said with a pout before fixing Yamaguchi’s hair and giving him a small smile.

“Oh hey guys!” your friend’s head popped out of the classroom.

“Hey,” you waved at them.

“Oh, hey F/N,” Tsukishima said.

“Hey, Tsukishima! ” your friend said giving him a small smile. You noticed them placing a hand on his upper arm as you awkwardly stood there with Yamaguchi.

Your friend and Tsukishima continued talking in the hallway, discussing with each other. You watched them as they continued talking and ignored both you and Yamaguchi. It hurt your heart a little knowing that he wasn’t going to be paying you the same amount of attention that he does for them.

“Do you wanna leave to head to class first?” you tugged at Yamaguchi’s sleeve to whisper in his ear.

“Sure,” he nodded.

“Sorry to interrupt you two, but Yamaguchi and I are going to leave first,” you indicated.

“I’ll see you later Tsukki.” Yams said waving at him and Tsukishima sent a nod of approval before his focus was back onto your friend.

“Do you have practice after school?” you asked Yamaguchi while walking to class.

“Yeah, why are you asking?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you, and Tsukki wanted to hang out later today.”

“I should be free after practice. I’ll ask Tsukki about it later.”

“Okie dokie! I should head in now, thanks for walking me to class, Yamaguchi.” you said giving him a smile and a small little wave.

“B-bye, Y/N! See you later!” he waved back with a shy smile.

“Hey, Y/N, do you like anyone at the moment?” your friend asked as she touched up her lip tint in front of the mirror.

“Uh, no- how about you?” you lied as a way to cover up your hidden feelings for him.

“Yeah...”

“Oh really, who is it?”

“Tsukishima.” you expression blanked. You zoned out but snapped to reality when your friend waved her hand in front of you.

“A-ah I see. What do you like about him?”

“Well for pointers, he’s tall, he’s also smart, calm and overall he’s very intriguing. He’s also cute and handsome.”

“Woah, that’s... a lot?”

“Right! So can you help me out?”

“How?”

“You’re like good friends with Tsukishima right? How do I make him go on a date with me?”

“Say what?”

“You know, a date.”

“Oh, uhm... Just ask him to help you study some material from class..? I’m pretty sure he has volleyball after school, but I’m sure he’ll help you out..”

“Thank you so much!” she side hugged you before leaving the bathroom.

Ha...Ha... I hope it goes well for her, then...

“TSUKISHIMAAAA!” you ran towards his direction to jump onto his back.

“Get off of me woman!” Tsukishima said carrying you.

“Never!” you giggled hanging onto him for dear life.

“Hey guys- oh, nevermind...” Yamaguchi came in with a smile plastered on his face but slowly turned into a flat line.

“Oi, Yamaguchi, pull her off me will you?” Tsukishima said grunting.

“WAIT- DON’T DO IT- I’ll get off after you answer my question.”

“What is it?”

“Are you free after practice?”

“No I am not. I have to help F/N with studying her material.”

“Oh yeahhh.” you said getting off of Tsukishima and standing there to face him.

“Why?”

“I was planning on hanging out with Yamaguchi, and you like the good old times, though it seems that both of you have a little study date.” you cheekily said nudging him. thump, thump

“Shut up.”

“We all know it’s true giraffe.” you rolled your eyes smirking. thump, thump

“Whatever you baked bean.”

“A baked be- a BAKED BEAN?” you jumped bonking him on the head causing him to wince in pain.

“Bake bean that, bAKE BEAN THAT.” you landed in front of him staring at Tsukishima with a fiery look. He smirked while scoffing looking into your eyes.

Something had caused Tsukishima to look away faster than ever as he looked to his side quickly.

“Anyways, I guess I’ll just hang out with Yamaguchi, right?” you turn to him and his body shot up with a smile and pink plastered across his face.

“Y-Yeah!” he gave a smile and you smiled back before clapping.

“Alrighty then! Yams, I’ll be at the park closest to our neighbourhood. See you later!” you said waving at him before turning around. “Oh, and good luck on your date Tsukishima!”

“Thanks...”

Damn it, Y/N. Why does your heart have to beat every time you look at him. You need to stop crushing on him. He doesn’t even like you and is probably interested in F/N. She’s prettier than you, more entertaining and is better than you in general. Just stop this silly crush...

He’ll never like somebody like you.

“Boo!”

“AHHH!” You laughed seeing Yamaguchi’s expression.

“Sorry, Yamaguchi~” you said before sitting next to him on the swings.

“It’s okay, Y/N.. So where do you plan to go?”

“Oh, right! Let’s go to the cafe nearby!”

“Sure! Lead the way.” You grabbed ahold of Yamaguchi’s hand before dragging him to the cafe. His face sparked with pink and it made him turn quiet.

“It shouldn’t be far away so we should be there before it closes.” as you turn the corner you recognize the sign and immediately speed up. You both enter the shop examining the place.

“What would you like? I’ll buy it for you.” you smiled looking up to him.

“Are you sure? I can just purchase it for myself.”

“No need to! Take this as a repayment to hanging out with me even though I know you have to study for an upcoming test.”

“H-How did you know?”

“You mentioned it to me a few days ago, so I thought this would help be a breather for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Now tell me what you would like, so I can order it for you.”

“A vanilla milkshake, please and thank you.”

“Alright! Go find us a seat, I’ll find you later.” before parting ways with Yamaguchi to the register.

“Hi there, what would you like today?”

“May I please get a vanilla shake and your smile cookie?”

“That will be $3.15″ you handed the cashier the money, “Thank you.”

Yamaguchi’s drink soon was made alongside your cookie served on the side. You searched the seats and found Yamaguchi sitting by a window seat near the back.

“One vanilla shake for Mr. Yamaguchi.” you jokingly placed a weird accent.

“Pfttttt, that was so stupid,” Yamaguchi laughed at your horrible accent.

“Oh be quiet.” You sat down munching on your cookie. “How’s volleyball? I heard you guys have a match with Shiratorizawa in two days.”

“Volleyball has been good. I managed to get my jump floats over the net, and yeah, we got finals against Shiratorizawa.”

“Looks like your practice is paying off. I’m really proud of you, Yamaguchi.”

“T-Thank you, but I wouldn’t be able to do it without the help of Mr. Makoto.” The small chime at the door rung alerting that someone came in. You glimpsed upwards and saw Tsukishima with F/N. shit.

“I-is something wrong?” Yamaguchi asked wanting to turn his head but you shook your head aggressively.

“Nothing is wrong, not at all.” you smiled keeping your eyes slightly on Tsukishima.

“Hey look it’s Yamaguchi and Y/N!” your friend pointed towards you guys.

“Oh hey guys, what are you doing here?” Yamaguchi said.

“Studying.” Tsukishima plainly spoke.

“We should get seats close by to them right, Tsukishima-kun? So we’ll see you soon, yeah?” your friend touched Tsukishima’s arm dragging him to a table close by.

“Hey, Y/N are you good?” Yamaguchi dragged your attention back to him.

“Uhm, sorry, as I was previously saying, I just know you’re doing really well. It’s a shame I can’t see you in action in person.” you said to Yamaguchi continuing the conversation that was paused.

“P-Please do come!” Yamaguchi exclaimed and you looked confused.

“You know, Tsukishima doesn’t want me at the matches. He says I would be too loud...” you quietly spoke to Yamaguchi.

“Please, Y/N, do this for me? It’s finals and it would be a shame if I didn’t see you in the stands cheering on for us.” Yamaguchi’s bold move of holding hands caught you off guard. They were warm and big. Very welcoming.

Tsukishima’s eyes trailed over to your hands being held by Yamaguchi - which caused him to clutch onto his pencil a little harder than he should have.

“Because you asked so nicely and cause you’re adorable, I’ll come. But if I don’t see you on the court playing, I would be devastated.” you dramatically spoke before giggling and continuing to chat with Yamaguchi.

It soon turned darker outside, meaning the cafe was closing soon too. Hanging out with Yamaguchi was fun today even though Tsukishima was helping F/N study. thump, thump

“Thank you again, Y/N. It was very nice of you to do this for me.”

“Ahhh stopppp, you needed this. Besides, I am glad you invited me to come watch. I’m very excited and look forward to it!” you said.

“It’s getting pretty late and dark, do you want me to walk you home?” Yamaguchi offered and you looked surprised before smiling and nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tsukishima and F/N.”

“Yeah, see you guys tomorrow! Make sure to walk her home, Tsukishima! You don’t want her to walk alone, do you?” you announced teasing him before exiting the building and turning your smile upside down.

thump. thump.

“Shit I’m late- I can already hear them play.” you sped up on walking up the stairs to Karasuno’s stand. You found a spot in the stands near the back. You watched as both teams played and saw Yamaguchi serving but no Tsukishima. You just figured he was in the corner with his other teammates because your vision couldn’t find him from that far.

“GO YAMAGUCHI!!!!!!” you cheered as he served perfectly to the other side of the team.

“Hey lady, can you quiet down?” a boy with glasses asked. You stared at him in confusion.

“Apologies, but I’m cheering on for my friends and their team. Also, aren’t you supposed to cheer for them too?” you questioned, crossing your arms.

“We aren’t from Karasuno or here to really cheer for either teams.” the boy with glasses spoke.

“Then why are you here...?”

“We’re observing them.”

“D-don’t tell me you’re spying on them.”

“Why yes I am, miss lady.”

“Oikawa, cut it out.” a boy with a deeper voice beside him said hitting the boy in the glasses.

“Iwa-chan~” Oikawa spoke holding his hurt spot.

“My apologies, he can be troublesome.” Iwa said apologising.

“It’s alright...Uhm, if you don’t mind... Can you tell me where Tsukishima Kei is?”

“Can you describe him?” Iwa asked.

“He’s tall, has glasses, blonde and a real b- I mean butt.” you smiled covering up your slip.

“Oh his hand got injured and he was bleeding-”

“Okay thanks,” that was all it took for you to go down the stairs before turning to the exit and dashing down the stairs to the infirmary.

“Damn it, Tsukishima.” you ran trying to find the infirmary. That’s when you saw Yachi stand outside talking with Akiteru.

“Yachi! Akiteru!” you spoke up and they turned around.

“Oh hey, Y/N. How are you-” they both spoke but you cut them off.

“Where’s Tsukishima?” you asked in a panic.

“He’s inside being treated.”

“What happened?”

“He went for a block against one of the players and got his hand injured.”

“Is it alright for me to go inside to check up on him?” you asked desperately.

“Sure. I think he needs you right now.”

“Thank you.” As you knocked on the door and heard a small “come in”.

“Oh hey, Y/N-”

“I’m so sorry I’m late, but are you okay? I heard your hand got treated, but still-” you cupped his face wearing a worried expression looking deeply into his eyes.

“I-I’m fine, Y/N...”

“No you’re not. Look at your hand,”

“I said I’m fine, Y/N.”

“Fine?!?!? Tsukishima! Your hand was bleeding- are you kidding me? You can’t just say you’re fine after your hand was bleeding! Kei, I am so worried for you and it hurts my heart to see you like this. I just- I can’t seem to see you hurt, cause then I want to cry and there’s nothing I can do about it. Like fuck- is this what feelings do to you? I just love you so much and it pains me seeing you down- oh no...” you rumbled on and gasped covering your mouth quickly realizing what came out of your mouth.

“W-wait what?” Tsukishima’s eyes widened hearing that.

“I-it’s nothing, you didn’t hear anything.”

“No. I heard something.” He stood up towering over you.

“No, you did not.”

“Something about having feelings for me?” he smirked looking down at you. Your face flushed pink.

“O-okay, maybe I do! So what? It’s not like you have feelings for me! I know they’re all for F/N and not me! I mean come on! I’m only your friend, and there is nothing I can do about it! F/N is so much more confident, lively, bubbly, pretty and an overall good if not amazing person! Of course you would have fallen for her! She’s in your league and I’m not! I just wanted to be somebody to someone already! And that someone is you, but I’m here looking like a complete-” the feeling of Tsukishima’s lips pressed against your forehead caused you to stop your sentence to look up at him.

“A complete unique individual that I somehow managed to fall for not only because of their looks or how they act, but for what they do and dedicate their time and effort to. Yes I have fallen for someone but that someone isn’t F/N. It’s you, Y/N.” Tsukishima said looking down at you with soft eyes that were filled with stars. His expression was soft and caring. You noticed how close your faces were when you saw how clear his honey like eyes shined under the bright lights.

“You are insanely beautiful, and someone I treasure so much. You’ve been with me since day one and I can not thank you enough for being there with me. I appreciate you so much but I don’t know how to physically show you all these emotions I pent up and hidden from you. Y/N, you should never look down on yourself like that. Besides, what’s so fun of having something in my league when I can go for something bigger?” Tsukishima wrapped his free arm around your waist to pull you in closer to him. Bodies pressed together and absorbing his heat.

“You’re not playing with me... Are you?” you asked in concern.

Tsukishima took his fragile hand to place it behind your head to press against his chest where his heart was. You heard the fast pace rhythm of his heart beating loudly against his ribcage. Tears slowly slid down your cheeks out of happiness.

“Now do you believe me?” he asked with a small smile. You nodded your head and hugged him to hide your blushing face and dried up tears.

“I-I hate you.”

“Mhm, sure you do.”

“D-Don’t you have a match to attend back to???”

“You’re right,” He gave you a quick kiss on the lips before heading towards the door, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” you sent a smile to him before he smiled back and left the infirmary with a whole different mindset.

The mindset where his thoughts were no longer clouded with jealousy or doubt, but with the burning passion for volleyball, a plan to defeat Shiratorizawa and now you.

310 notes · View notes

jadelotusflower · 3 years ago

Text

It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014. But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen? Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak). And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination. How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

#star wars #star wars meta #heir to the jedi #nakari kelen #luke skywalker #fridging #it's cold in that fridge #star wars expanded universe #nucanon

66 notes · View notes

tracybirds · 4 years ago

Text

tidying is good for the soul

I just really really didn’t want to tidy my own room.... I forced Gordon to do it in my stead :)

Some angsty Pen&Ink decided to show their faces in the middle for ReasonsTM and I ran with it. I wish I could say the mess I’m avoiding is worse than Gordon’s... it is not.

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

The smell hit Scott first as he walked past, musty air filled with sweat, rotting food and something else he didn’t want to identify. The stale oxygen forced its way into his lungs as he peered into the room.

Breathing through his mouth only ensured he could taste the rich, ripe aroma. He bit back his instinctive reaction to gag, instead shoving his hand over his nose and mouth. He could see an egg on the plate sitting innocently on the chest of drawers, clearly abandoned in a rush to get to a rescue, still in its shell. Still in its shell, after what must have been days, the green-grey fuzz of mold cradling it gently where it lay.

“Gordon, you can’t live like this, you have to clean this up.”

“Huh?”

Scott gestured at the room at large.

“This! This garbage heap you call a room! How can you just lie there and… and… relax? When it’s like this?”

Gordon shrugged.

“Good defence mechanism.”

“You’ll get yourself sick like this, you know that.”

“It’ll strengthen my immune system.”

Scott coughed back the stench.

“Is that…?”

No. He didn’t want to know.

“I’ll be fine,” said Gordon, staring deliberately up at the projection on the ceiling. He was watching Buddy and Ellie again, nestled between two piles of laundry and exercise gear abandoned at his feet.

Scott knew what he had to do. He knew what he should do. He just couldn’t be sure if there were any landmines ahead of him if he strode into the room.

Necessity called.

He jabbed a finger at his comm and cut the power.

“HEY!!”

“Clean it up, Gordon. You’ll get your damn show back when it’s liveable again.”

“I was busy!”

“You were watching videos! And I know you’ve seen that episode before, at least four times.”

“At least give me my lights! Please?”

Scott shook his head, his mouth twisting in disgust.

“You can start by opening the curtains, and the windows too. Get some fresh air in here.”

Gordon grabbed at the water bottle, hidden in the clothes by his head, and threw it with the aim of an athlete at the door slamming shut. It hit with a loud thud and clattered as it hit the floor.

Water began to seep under the gap and Scott rolled his eyes at the sight. Let Gordon have his tantrum if he wanted. The space was becoming a hazard to them all, and his disorganised brother needed a push. He remembered the last ‘argument’ that had stemmed from someone else daring to do it for him. Scott still had the scar.

***

Gordon glared at the offending door in the dark. The glow of his comm on his wrist provided the only light in the gloom, being the only object not reliant on the power that Scott had taken away from him.

Guilt stabbed at him as he looked around. Now that Scott had brought it to his attention, he couldn’t deny the truth in his accusations. Most of the precarious piles in the space was trash he’d been holding on to, or items that needed a home that he couldn’t find the energy to designate. There were meals and dishes long forgotten as he traipsed in from a rescue in the small hours, stumbling forward with eyes only for his bed. By the time he’d woken up, they’d just become another faded feature of the past. And speaking of his bed, he’d been sharing that space with an assortment of clothing, tablets and oceanographic equipment for longer than he cared to remember.

Thank goodness Penny hadn’t dropped by for a visit. Not that she wanted to see him at the moment, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him slyly.

Gordon scowled, pushing the memory of their last meeting away with a practiced ease. He wasn’t dwelling.

He scrambled to his feet and picked his way across the background noise of the past two months. He yanked open the curtains and looked around, eyes blinking as he took in the sight of dishes piled eight deep glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

He could see Alan, waving up at him from the deck below, and felt the tug to join him, to dive into whatever his brother was doing, anything to not feel alone and stranded on this antipodean island.

Instead, he shoved open the balcony doors and scooped up the wrappers that spilled out of their caged position on the edge of his dresser.

It was a room of categories.

Trash and not-trash.

Things with a home, and things without a home.

Stuff that was mere clutter, and stuff he was still most definitely using, never mind that weeks had passed since they’d last found their way into his hands, thanks Scott.

He doubted Scott had ever found himself with a stray hair dropped on his bathroom floor, let alone sworn violently at a smear of toothpaste that somehow stretched from the mirror to the floor, smeared by a sleepy hand in a futile attempt to clean it off before Gordon collapsed.

Gordon was scrubbing at it now.

The food was an easy fix at least, and he’d quickly employed MAX for depositing the dishes in a soak, wash, rinse, purify with fire cycle.

The room was becoming semi presentable again, enough that Gordon could actually walk between the piles instead of taking strategic leaps from clearing to clearing. That one for laundry, that one for clean clothes, that one for clothes that might have once been clean but had been trapped under so much stuff he thought they might appreciate another rinse if only for a shot at seeing the local scenery.

He tugged at the comforter, trying to extract it from under the “still-being-finished” projects he’d placed lovingly out of the way on his bed. It might be nice to sleep under something that smelt fresher than his socks.

A final jerk, accompanied by a necessary grunt, pulled the bedspread clear, turning Gordon’s sound of frustrated power into a hard-earned yell.

He fell, yelping as his shoulder struck the edge of his drawers and sent a precarious collection of borrowed items cascading to the ground. With him underneath.

A sharp knock on the door drew his attention.

“Gordon? You alright in there?”

Gordon scowled at the door, imagining the way he might throttle Virgil if he came in now, with his barely disguised approval and his wide-eyed sympathy that Gordon couldn’t keep his space straight like the rest of them. Especially now that the once clear floor was covered in junk all over again.

He hit his head against the floor with a thunk.

“Fine. Get lost.”

He didn’t need X-ray vision to see the huff and rolling eyes Virgil gave in response.

“Have it your way. Scott’s got dinner sorted in an hour or so if you want it.”

Gordon was very certain he would not.

He didn’t move even after he had heard Virgil’s footsteps fade away. The afternoon light had turned golden warm as the sun began to set. He could ask Scott for the lights back, he knew Scott had only turned them off to grab his attention, but the dimming room suited his dark mood just fine.

He wished he could call Penny, twelve hours behind him and a world away, just to complain and joke about ways to pay Scott back tenfold for the trouble he’d caused him.

He wondered if she still bothered to wake up early when there was no one scheduled to call anymore. His 0400 alarm had hardly wavered, his body attuned to the rhythm and his heart wishing beyond reason to hear word of the daily minutia of life in high society London.

He couldn’t call her just to talk about junk.

He couldn’t call her to talk about anything.

Gordon scrubbed at his face, drawing his legs in as he made to stand once more. He reached out, fingers splayed on the floor, as he hauled himself upright. His eyes fell on the shimmering pink material at the base of the tower that now lay scattered across the room.

A scarf, but not just any scarf, as she’d haughtily told him. A gift from a Duchess, another high end and frivolous purchase, on loan from a very, very good friend of her father – Gordon could hardly remember the details, laughing at her affronted look while he downplayed its importance.

“Just a piece of fabric, Penny, no better, no worse than my pants.”

“Than your trousers, I should say.”

Gordon laughed again.

“Nah, Pen, definitely my pants.”

Maybe it had meant something to her, but she’d let him take it home, covered in her perfume and her love and her firm belief that he deserved something special of hers.

A tangible image of her heart and he’d taken it in with irreverence and mockery, and hidden it away beneath clutter and trash and the needs of everyone and anyone that wasn’t her. Lost it among a pile of junk now strewn on the floor, none of which even mattered, not even to him. He’d thrown half his life away, only to find her still draped all over him.

Draped, no thrown carelessly on his chest of drawers, with none of the delicacy and care that her vulnerability and trust deserved, none of the precious love he had sworn up and down was hers.

His vision blurred as he ran his rough hands through the soft folds and he tapped the comm before he could think twice about the consequences.

He couldn’t look at the holo as it answered, its blue light spilling out into the room, cold and lifeless. It might have been Parker for all he knew as he sobbed into the scarf.

“Gordon?”

Her voice was a balm against the wound rending him in two.

“Pen, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her silence chased his mumbled apologies and regret into the darkened room.

“Thank you, Gordon.”

#gordon tracy #scott tracy #penelope creighton-ward #pen and ink #not a HUGE amount of pen though so fair warning #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #*backflips away from my responsibilities by writing fic*#is the egg from personal experience only i will ever know

32 notes · View notes

putas-in-suffering · 4 years ago

Text

Expensive Taste

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Escort!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, daddy kink, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, pretentious bitches, Miguel being Daddy, Miguel liking being called Daddy (its an important distinction)

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Part 2. It’s Monday night’s gala and you decide to make a dull event interesting.

A/N: Sucias! Here’s a second part to our Miguel/Escort saga. You can read the first part here. This is turning into a bit of a series between Miguel and our escort and we are not mad at it. We’ve got at least two more parts written out for this duo so we hope you guys are as thirsty for Cartel Daddy as we are because we’re ready to deliver the goods. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

**We added a Part 3! Read it here.

You laughed to hide the disgust, discreetly rolling your made-up eyes in response to the dull droning’s of some Stepford housewife. She was blonde with capped teeth, the fillers in her lips making her look more like a platypus rather than a human. Despite her cheerful attitude, you could tell she was critiquing you…eyeing you with concealed disdain. You were no stranger to those expressions. People often judged you for many different reasons. Tonight, it was because of who you came with.

Miguel had been whisked away from your side, most likely to discuss business. You were enough of a professional to keep yourself busy. Stay hidden, but seen. Engage, but don’t bring attention to yourself. You were there for looks and nothing else. But Tina had trapped you. Talking your ear off about Botox and country clubs and her quaint vacation spots to a little resort across the border. You inwardly cringed at that. The elite loved to talk shit on the country south of the border, but were the first to book first class tickets to experience “the culture”.

You felt a light touch to your arm and tried not to jerk away as Tina questioned you with a silent gaze.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, sipping on your champagne as you did. The one good thing about these galas was the booze. Always top notch.

“Your dress…where did you get it? It’s so…daring.”

The insult was clear. Poorly hidden within the high-pitch of her sickly sweet voice. You only smiled, having played this game with many women throughout your life. If you had to guess, Tina had been married to her husband for ten plus years. They probably had a couple of kids. She probably took care of those kids, letting her husband work and fuck someone else in peace. She probably did yoga three to four times a week, thinking it would keep her husband around. She did the same with the Botox and fillers. Most likely having a little nip and tuck too. She was pathetic. A dime a dozen in this godforsaken social circle. You didn’t know if you could blame her. But you sure as hell weren’t giving her a free pass either.

“Thanks. I was going to go for something more conservative, kinda like yours. But I realized I’d rather Miguel actually want to fuck me tonight.”

Her face went hard, mouth open in shock at your blatant dig. You kept the smile on your face, even when Miguel saddled up next to you, interrupting your caddy interaction. Tina’s husband joined her as well, his eyes sweeping up your figure in a not so discreet fashion.

“Having fun?” Miguel asked, no doubt feeling the tension between you and the other woman. His hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh. He was signaling you, letting you know he knew what game you were playing and he wanted you to wrangle it in.

“Absolutely. I was just telling Tina where I got my dress from.” You addressed the group, enjoying the way the man and woman eyed you. She with contempt. He with lust.

“You want something like that, honey?” The man asked his wife, the childish excitement practically spewing out of his pores.

“She’d look great in it.” You insisted with a devious smile, catching the way Tina pursed her overinflated lips at you. “Just a tip though…you can’t really wear any underwear with this dress so I hope you’re okay with that.”

You swore you saw the husband pop a boner right there while Tina seethed and twisted her face in disgust.

Wench.

Miguel tugged at your arm, clearing his throat and effectively ending the conversation. “Excuse us.”

You followed him as he led you out the glass doors and onto the terrace. It was deserted, the life of the party contained within the walls of the hotel ballroom. He was mindful of your heels, pulling you along but not forcefully. Though you were sure that had more to do with the lurking eyes rather than any form of chivalry.

“Was that necessary?” Miguel questioned, bringing you to a stop in a dimly lit corner.

You could hear the soft melodic tune of crickets over the heinous shit they were playing inside. The cool breeze swept over your skin, soothing the heat that had begun to stir, both from the alcohol and your tense interaction with Tina. You let your gaze take in the man before you. Take in the perfectly coiffed hair, the designer suit, the angular jaw, the intense dark eyes. He was attractive no doubt, which made your job all the more easier.

“She started it.” You retorted, trying hard to keep the smile off your lips. You knew he wasn’t happy with your little display, but he also wasn’t showing that anger outright. He found it amusing. You could see the glint in his eyes.

“I bet she did.” His gaze swept your figure, taking in all the dips and curves. He’d remarked on how beautiful you looked when he’d picked you up earlier in the evening, but now…now he was looking at you as if you were a very expensive steak on a silver platter.

The dress was a soft ivory color, the fabric delicate and beaded. It was sheer, but the nude paneling underneath kept you from exposing any body parts. It was fitted to your figure, the strapless sweetheart neckline doing wonders for your décolletage. It had a slit up the side, but you’d made sure it wasn’t too high. The illusion of nudity was shocking enough. And Tina was right. It was a daring dress, but it encompassed everything you needed it to. Money. Sex. Poise. And you looked damn good in it. It was a physical testament to your working relationship with Miguel. It was shocking. A hidden scandal all dressed in crystals and jewels.

It was amazing what people in this town would turn the other cheek for. Whether some or all knew of your association with Miguel you’d never know, but if you had to take a guess…they probably treated it like his occupation. Coveted but never acknowledged.

“She looked at me like a whore.” You defended. You stepped into his space, abandoning your champagne glass on the ledge of the balcony. You took his own glass and did the same with it, freeing up his hands.

He smirked at your words, the expression sending a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core. “Aren’t you?”

He was smug. And rightfully so. You were already wet. It was as if he could read your mind. He knew without even exploring the space between your thighs what he would find there. He knew what turned you on. It was the same for him. Its why you were the perfect match.

“Your whore.” You whispered against his lips, enjoying the way his jaw clenched. His expression was tight while his chest expanded with a deep breath. His right hand began trailing along the curve of your waist and down to your backside, caressing. You let his hand roam freely, unafraid of the consequence.

“No panties, huh?” He asked, punctuating his words with a fierce grab of your ass. He massaged the flesh, pulling a low moan from your painted lips. You gripped the lapels of his suit, steadying yourself against the rush of desire that now held you prisoner.

“A practical decision.” You replied, leaning further into his body. He let his arms surround you, this time smoothing both of his hands over your lower half. Your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rubbing against his in a silent plea.

“Practical how?” He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your response. His hands began slowly pulling at your dress, shifting the material up your legs and thighs.

“Easier to convince you to fuck me in the middle of a gala.” You teased, tongue darting out to lick seductively at his bearded lips.

He grunted in approval, fingers finding their way to the epicenter of your excitement. He danced along your inner thighs, taking note of the way they clenched. They were already slippery with your arousal, your body getting off just on the anticipation alone. He teased your slit, his eyes watching your face closely. You bit your lip as you tried to shift against his touch, eager for more. You didn’t know what made it so thrilling to sleep with Miguel. It could’ve been a multitude of things. His wealth, his authority, his arrogance. It all combined to make a sensuous elixir. One that had you addicted.

“You’re worth every fucking penny I spend on you.” He breathed against your lips, catching the gasp you released when his fingers finally penetrated you. Your nails dug into his chest, struggling for purchase as he scissored you. His palm rubbed at your clit as he worked you from the inside out.

“Fuck…” You moaned when he curled his fingers against your walls. He was encouraging your body to flood him, coaxing an orgasm to the surface. Who were you to deny him?

“You’d let me do what I want, right?”

You nodded wordlessly, too caught up in his touch to verbalize. His rhythm began to accelerate, forcing your pussy to cling to him in mercy.

“You’d let me fuck you right here for everyone to see. Let them see what my money buys. What I own.”

You couldn’t stop the litany of whimpers and moans that danced off your lips. His words set you ablaze, amplifying the pleasure to insurmountable heights. You forgot about your surroundings. Forgot that the pretentious society of Santo Padre stood only feet away. Your body’s carnal desires were the only thing that fueled you from that moment. That and Miguel’s sinful mouth.

“Turn around.” He demanded lowly, his fingers leaving the confines of your body and trailing the stickiness along your skin.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t hesitate. You gave yourself over completely to Miguel, proving to him why you were his favorite…his only. You faced the pristinely manicured courtyard, gripping the balcony ledge as he raised the hem of your dress to expose your lower half. His belt was already undone, his zipper down. He pressed into you, letting you feel the hard line of his cock beneath the fabric of his underwear. You opened your neck up to him in invitation and were instantly rewarded with the delicious graze of his lips and tongue.

“Spread your legs, baby. Let me in.” He whispered against your neck, his hand trailing down your spine. You shivered and obeyed dutifully, letting his body line up with you. The heat of his flesh met yours as he slowly began to push in. No matter how many times or the various ways you’d let Miguel fuck you, he always stretched you with an ache that bordered on painful. The sensation took your breath away.

“Miguel…” You moaned into the night, reaching an arm behind you to thread your fingers into his hair. You tugged at the strands as he sunk all the way into your depths. Your walls throbbed against his cock, feeling the pulse of his blood as he stood completely still. You both savored the moment of raw lust. Savored the erotic connection of your bodies. Savored the risk of fucking with Miguel’s friends and associates just beyond a glass door.

“Tell me what you need.”

You tried to wiggle your hips, but his hands held you firm. You were impaled on his cock, trapped between him and the balcony. You had nowhere to go.

“Move…fuck me, please.” You pleaded, soaking up the kisses he continued to lavish on your neck. His teeth scraped along your earlobe, nibbling as he went.

“Please what?”

You inwardly gloated at his question, realizing the mood he was in. Miguel only ever asked you such a question when he was feeling especially playful and that usually meant a five star orgasm for you.

“Daddy.” You corrected. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you in response and you squeezed him back, relishing the curse he growled out.

Without warning, he thrust hard and deep, pinning you roughly against the concrete ledge. You yelped at the force of it, your breath catching in your throat. He kept up his brutal pace, using slow, measured thrusts. His fingertips dug into your hips. He grunted like a primal beast as he plunged so deep that you were forced onto your tiptoes.

“Oh, fuck…” You bent forward and braced yourself as he continued to ravage you, the angle making your toes curl. You flinched when you felt the sudden pressure of his finger at your clit, his hand unknowingly making its journey up the front of your dress.

“I can feel you, baby. You’re ready. Be a good girl and cum, yeah?” He taunted.

Miguel’s flare for pillow talk was about as masterful as his cock. His mouth was an instrument. An instrument he used with expert precision. He knew when to strike. Knew when to utilize his talent to make you cum harder than any other time before.

You squeezed your eyes shut as a cyclone of pleasure swept you up and immobilized you. Your entire body shook with uncontrolled tremors as wave after treacherous wave of climax assailed your body. You felt him still inside you. He could feel every swirl of your hips, every earth-shattering shockwave that ricocheted off his cock. You gasped for air as his finger continued to torture your clit, despite your sudden oversensitivity. He prolonged your orgasm, praising the way you squeezed him.

“That’s it. Just like that.” He talked you through it, tenderly caressing your cheek as if he wasn’t still splitting you in two. His hips resumed their pace, the sound of him entering you now amplified by your release. You grasped onto his forearm as his hand reached around to squeeze at your throat. His hold wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make you feel unsteady on your four inch heels. The ledge dug into your hips as he rutted into you, his own hips stuttering in overwhelming ecstasy.

“Cum inside me…fill me up.” You said between each ragged breath you took.

“Fuck,” He cursed, plastering your body to his as he finished. The flood of warmth filled you, his body spasming with each spurt of his cum. There wasn’t an iota of space left between your bodies as he used you, painting your insides and filling you to capacity. His forehead rested on the back of your neck, his breathing beginning to slow as he floated back into the moment.

His tired chuckle made you laugh, the vibrations making you both hiss. You ran your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, your touch much softer than the previous time. He carefully eased himself out of your clutches, but he didn’t let your dress fall back into place. Instead, he ran a finger over your abused slit, slipping past and coating the appendage. You gasped at the unexpected intrusion, but let him do as he pleased.

A second later he was removing his finger and spinning you around, your dress now covering any modesty you had left. You met his gaze, seeing his hair slightly out of place and a corner of his mouth lifted in a devious smirk. He raised the finger, letting you see the mixture of you and him that covered it. He smeared it onto your lips.

“Beautiful…” He whispered, nodding in approval when you immediately licked the concoction from your lips. He pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue instantly seeking entrance into your mouth. You gave it, letting him taste the champagne and the flavor of your combined releases. You pulled away breathless and satiated, the drunken high of your coupling still very prominent.

“So should I not wear panties from now on?” You teased, stepping back to allow him the room to adjust his pants and shirt. He composed himself, tucking in his shirt as he laughed at your question. You reached up and fixed his hair, noting the hints of grey intertwined in the inky locks.

“Something to think about.” He replied matter-of-factly, eyebrow raised as if pondering the pros of such a decision. He let you fuss with his hair, black eyes fixated on your chest. “That is quite the dress. A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But if I’m going to look like a whore then at least it’s an expensive one. Right, Daddy?” You winked, trailing a painted nail over his lips and down to adjust the collar of his shirt.

He shook his head and chuckled, gaze now scanning the area for people. “Come on.” He gestured to the ballroom, leading you with a hand to your lower back.

You thanked him as he opened the door for you, letting you pass with a subtle pat to your ass. He maneuvered through the crowd with you, stopping momentarily to greet the occasional acquaintance. You’d grabbed another flute of champagne, standing silent beside Miguel as he spoke with a local politician. Your eyes found Tina’s across the room, a scowl still permanently etched onto her face. You brought a finger up to your lips and made a show of wiping the sides of your mouth, your message clear. She looked appalled, beady eyes bouncing between you and Miguel as if she was putting the pieces of a puzzle together. You took a hearty sip of your drink and waved, pleased when she shook her head and walked off in a huff.

“Behave. I don’t pay you to ruin my relationships with the locals.” Miguel warned in your ear, his arm back around your waist in a possessive embrace.

“No, you pay me to suck your dick and swallow your cum.” You countered.

You took your own kind of sick pleasure out of shocking and sassing Miguel. It was what made all your encounters with him so damn fun. The man’s buttons were easy to push. Some days he played along, like today. Other times he fought against you, intent on punishing you for your transgressions.

“Speaking of,” You continued, handing off your glass to him. “Your cum is currently running down my leg so I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room.”

His eyes flickered down to your thighs hidden beneath your dress, a flash of desire sweeping across his face. He nodded, fixing you with a firm stare. “There and back. No detours.”

“Yes sir.” You mocked, taking his hand in yours.

This time, he wasn’t amused.

“I think it’s time I remind you what your purpose is.” He responded coolly, squeezing your hand back in a deceivingly tight hold. It was an obvious warning that he wanted you to heed, but you’d do no such thing. Playful Miguel was fun, but you yearned for that darker, twisted side that was bred from running a cartel operation.

So, you leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, letting your tongue dart out to taste him. You patted his chest with a placating expression, surely sealing your date with the devil later.

“I can’t wait.”

Sucia Tag List

@marvelmaree

@visintaes

@otomefromtheheart

@aquarius-smr-writing

@glimmerglittergirl

@arveeee

@fangirlingaesthetics

@maciiiofficial

@woahitslucyylu

@angelreyesgirl

@ifoundmyhappythought

@mheart27

@collegegirl83

@luna8819

@enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x you #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo fanfiction #miguel galindo fanfic #mayans mc #mayans mc fx

275 notes · View notes

voltagesmutter · 4 years ago

Text

Caught - HeadCannon

Request: A hidden camera in MC’s room and the bidders use it to find MC masturbating, one day she walks in to find them jacking off to it. @alicevaski

Pairing: Soryu, Babe, Eisuke, Mamoru (Not Ota, I just can’t with him)

Word count: 5000+

Warning: Smut and NSFW, Female and male masturbation, un-protected sex, Spying

Throwing down the bags you had been carrying all day, watching them bounce down on the bed as you kicked off your shoes, even your days off from work left you exhausted. You took full advantage of your day off, leaving your bedroom in the penthouse which you were currently residing in and getting a long list of errands you had done all before taking a few hours to leisurely shop. Living in the penthouse, rent free, and becoming a private maid for the bidders, a healthy raise in salary courtesy of Eisuke, meant you had more disposable cash than ever before. Your eyes fell onto the bag which held the new underwear you brought, never would you normally spend so much money on underwear but the red silk and satin material called out to you. Why you even brought it you’d never know, it wasn’t as if you had a love life, the last time you even got any action was far too long for you to even remember. Your right hand and a bullet vibrator become your only dates, especially since living with the bidders, you wouldn’t even dream of bringing a man to the penthouse. You couldn’t deny your sex drive had increased since living with them, the smouldering smirks, the teasing flirts, the not-so-stuble suggestions left you feeling tingly and aroused. It was like a slow burning torture, each of them setting off sparks with you, only for you to have to relieve yourself in the dead of night with silent prayers no-one heard you. Oh how you were wrong…

“Boss move! You're hogging the screen!” Ota squeaked, trying to push the tycoon out of the way to get a glimpse on the tablet screen. The camera was placed as a matter of security, Eisuke had them installed all through his penthouse, only he up to this point knew they were there. Eisuke had flicked it on just to purely check you was safe in your room, nothing more, but Soryu had caught you on the screen and questioned him before the others quickly fled to his side. But eyes grew wide. They watched you, clothes scattered across the floor, the only thing on your body was the underwear you earlier purchased.

“Move kid, this is for adults only,” Mamoru huffed, grabbing him by his collar and flinging the young artists aside. Soryu tutted and rolled his eyes, crossing his right leg over his left.

“Don’t tutt at us, you're just as much a pervert for watching,” Baba chuckled, rubbing his knuckle against the mobsters slicked back hair, messing it up.

“Got a point Sor,” Eisuke smirked, his long finger flicking across the tablet, the plasma tv on the wall springing to life, the image of you in your bedroom flooding the screen. You stood in front of the wall length mirror, hands running across your body as the crimson-red underwear clung to your body, leaving little to the imagination.

“Holy shit kid-” Mamoru wide open, dropping the cigarette from his mouth, a light thud as it hit the floor. The bidders watch in awe as you bring your hands up to cup your covered breasts, pushing them together, giving them a full-front show of your cleavage.

“Who knew the little lady has such good taste,” Baba licking his lip hungrily, eyes focusing on the screen to catch a glimpse of your behind as you turned in the mirror, the red thong illuminating the suppleness of your ass.

The bidders watched with high anticipation for your next movement, not expecting you to brush your hands against your breasts, fingers tweaking at your clothed nipples until they hardened beneath the flimsy material, a breathless gasp leaving your lips.

“Koro you naughty girl,” Ota grinned with beady eyes, as you slipped a hand between your underwear bottoms, fingers teasing over your clit in a brushing movement. Breathes hitched as you sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread with your feet placed flat as your back fell onto the sheets below, hands tracing up and down your thighs in a teasing manner. A smirk twitched at the side of Eisukes mouth, eyes watching the delightful show on the screen as your back arched, hips bucked as you pushed a finger below the material and into your delicate folds, the gasping moans sent all the blood from his head straight to his cock, as did all the others. All of them knew they should turn off the video, but you were beyond enticing, all of them lusted after you but feared to proceed any future out of fear from the other bidders.

The whimper moans fell from the tv, fingers frantically working inside you as you tugged off your underwear, letting it loop off one of your ankles, the bidders getting a wide shot, your core being plunged into with your sleek fingers. Each of them sat forward with anticipation, watching you bring yourself to climax as delicate whimpers of a name fell from your mouth before slowing your movements and removing your fingers, the honey essence dripping from you and onto the sheets below. They all sat in silence for a moment, breaths and heavy and hearts racing before each of them quickly dis-band and dispersed into their rooms. All of them had you on their mind, replaying what they just witnessed.

Eisuke: Eisuke was a powerful man, he could bring businesses down with a flick of his wrist, he could make profits double in value before he even had this morning coffee. Yet when it came to her, he was completely powerless. She had a grip on him like none other, every smirk or suggestive comment she would bat off but the rising colour of cheeks left Eisuke knowing he had an affect on her, just like she did him. He found him fisting his cock, night after night, spilling on his sheets wishing it was her hand instead of his. Ever since she’d come into his life nothing else seemed to matter, he lusted after her like he had never done before, purely intoxicated by her scent and presence. After the performance he witnessed with the others, he deleted every tape of it except for one on his phone, he wanted you purely for himself and no-one else. He watched as you climaxed over and over again, cock twitching each time as he knew he had heard right, ‘Eisuke’ falling from your lips in a withering moan.

With a hearty sigh you finished up the last room of your floor, checking your phone you had finished 30 minutes earlier than normal. You practically skipped to the elevator, you could go up, make Eisuke a coffee he would demand and be done for the day. The penthouse was empty when you entered, silence except for some tapping from Eisukes office, you waltzed over to the coffee machine and prepared his drink. Putting the three sugars and the jug of milk on the tray, pouring the hot water into the cup, carrying it to his office. You were so used to entering his office without knocking you didn’t think twice about just entering.

“Mr. Ichinomiya, I have your cof-” You started before frozen as you pushed the door open, Eisuke hunched over his chair, head thrown back with gritted teeth, hand thrusting in a vigorous movement below his desk. His eyes shot open, his eyes laced with darkness and lust, his hand slowing but not stopping as a bead of sweat ran across his forehead. You were about to turn, shut the door and run but a crying moan from the screen stopped you, “Eisuke” your breathless came flooded your ears. He was jacking off to you.

“Are you just going to stand there or what,” His lips twisting into a smirk as you slammed the door behind you, threw the tray on the nearest flat surface and began unbuttoning your blouse. You wanted this, you needed this, you wanted him. Straddling him, tapping his hand away as you wrapped your hands around his lengthy thickness, pumping him as he had been doing moments before. His hands ran up your exposing thighs, pushing up the material of your skirt to expose the red underwear you were wearing, the same underwear you wore when moaned his name, he felt all-self control snap. Fingers ran against the damping wetness of your panties, growls of approval as pushed a finger under them to run against your slickening folds.

“Mr. Ichin-” You whined with pleasure, as he sunk a finger inside your deep core, only to be cut off.

“Eisuke,” He groaned, your hand squeezing over his head, thumb tracing over the slit to spread his pre-cum over him.

“Take me,” You begged, another finger being trusted inside you, your hips mercilessly grinding down to ride his hand. He continued thrusting into you, only to remove his slicked digits from within when he felt you clench, his smirking gaze met your flushed cheeks. Pushing you off of his lap, turning you around so you faced his desk, your hands gripping at the solid wood beneath you as your skirt was hitched up over your waist. The heat of his throbbing member pressed fiercely against your ass as he ripped your panties from your body, a ‘I’ll buy someone new ones’ smirked from behind you. One hand held your waist as the other spread your legs a little future, his erection gliding across your folds in a teasing manner.

“Eisuke please,” It came out more needing than you hoped, wetness coaxing his cock as he continued to tease you.

“What do you want, baby?” The word baby made you clench over nothing, pushing yourself back against him to relieve some friction. You knew Eisuke too well to know he never just give someone something, they had to beg which is what he wanted to do now.

“Just fuck me already,” You cried, unable to take his teasing, the wanton need clear in your voice. Hands gripping your waist as he thrusted into you, the thickness pulsing against your walls as he stretched your tightness with a hiss of pleasure, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

“You're so tight and wet for me baby,” He groaned with a slight struggle, fingertips sinking into your skin as he pulled out to thrust back in. Your knuckles went white from gripping the desk below you, the powerful thrusts hitting the perfect spot inside you, whimpers falling for you with each one. The sound of his pelvis hitting your ass flooded the small office, followed by your breathless moans and the occasion grunt from behind. It didn’t take long for him to bring you to a climax, the intensity picking up as he fucked you through your orgasm, Eisuke crying your lips as he delivered a pleasure to you like no-other.

“Your mine,” He growled, sinking his teeth in the crook of your neck, a mark of claim as he stilled, spilling deep inside you. A few breathless pants filled the silence, Eisuke finally pulling himself from you, his head resting against your back.

“I mean it,” His voice was slightly softer than normal, turning you around keeping you pinned between him and his desk, his face coming close to yours.

“Your mine,” His lips meet yours the first time, both of your hands coming up to intertwine in his hair, pulling him down close to you.

Soryu:

Soryu indeed was as his friends called him a ‘closeted pervert’, he lusted over you just as much as the others, the only difference was he did it in the privacy of his own comfort. He wasn’t as bold as the others when it came to women, able to keep his urges under-control unlike Ota he practically fucked anything with a pulse. Even confessing he lost his virginity due to a ‘life or death situation’, he didn’t need to go into future more details about it. He’d be calm, cool and collected throughout his life, that was until she came into it, making him through it all out of the window. Primal urges kicking in, the more time he spent around her, the more times he found his fist wrapped around his cock with the image of her in his mind, her name grazing his lips. The day the bidders watched her on screen, he wanted nothing more to bullet through all of them and protect her modesty but he was so pulled in by her, her moans and delicate whimpers, he couldn’t stop himself from falling victim. He had to fight the urge to kick down her door, take over and ravish her, but now only the image and memory of her would have to do. The moment all the bidders left for their rooms, he was already on the phone to his men telling them to hack into the security camera and send them a specific file, he heavily stressed that if anyone opened it he would make no issue of getting rid of them. He also made sure to get them to delete the footage from the security once Soryu had received it, this was for his eyes only. He fisted himself in time to your fingers, imaging he was plunging his thickness into you rather than your fingers, bringing himself to the edge in time to you. He planned to edge himself, deny his release for a few rounds before spilling but the moan that left the screen, the moan of his name made him release over his lower stomach without touching himself.

“Motherfucker” You hissed, tripping over something in your room and stubbing your feet off it, a slight pain surged through your foot. Bending down to see the leather coating, a book Soryu had lent you many weeks ago that you had finished, forgetting to return it to its owner. It was late into the evening and you knew Soryu was in, you’d not long been making him omelets for his dinner, fussing that he didn’t eat enough. He was literally so fussy, the only thing you ever saw him eat was the food you cooked for him. Picking up the book you headed out of your room and down the hallway to Soryus, his light was off but you knew he was in.

“Sor?” You knocked to no response, you knocked again before pressing down on the handle and slowly pushing the door open. It was dark inside, no sign of Soryu, he must have gone out. Boldly stepping in, you placed the book on his bedside desk, the sound of running water flooding your ears. Ah, he’s in the shower, no wonder he didn’t reply you thought. Turning to leave him in peace, a noise stopped you in your place, a heavy groan and whimpered moan. Shit, shit, shit, you thought. He’s got a woman over and here you are in his room! You hurried to make an exit when his words stopped you, “Bella”, he was calling out your name. The whimpering moans grew louder, almost as if it was a tape looping, heat flooding your cheeks as you recognise the whimpers, your whimpers, your voice crying out Soryu’s name. Was he? Over you? Surely not, but the groan of your name once more confirmed your thoughts.

Your feet lead you before you could even think, bouncing over to his bathroom and pushing the door slightly open a jar, breath hitching at the sight before you. He was under the shower, droplets of water running off his taunt back, one hand holding the wall as the other moved back and forth in front of him, his head thrown back as he groaned, his phone on the side playing looped recordings of your crying moans.

“Soryu…” You so breathlessly whispered, biting your lower lip as you took in the scene before you, feeling yourself clench and pulse in time to your throbbing heartbeat. He turned his head over his shoulder, no sign of embarrassment as usual, instead his eyes half lidded and rimmed with lust. His hand stroking himself slower, a slight glimpse of the pure muscle that lay beneath his suit, the throbbing hardness that make you go weak at the knees. Neither said a word, his eyes following you as they watched you pull of your clothes before joining him in the shower, fully exposed as you stood in-front of him.

Bringing a hand to rest on his cheek, the other ran down his abdomen before reaching the curls at the base of his cock. A shiver ran down his spine as you wrapped a hand around him, replacing his own as you began to stroke up and down him, the head pressing tight against your stomach. He closed the distance between you, pushing you to be back up against the wall as his mouth came crashing down on yours, your hand pumping him with a harder grip. Tongues coaxed each others, a soft hand held your waist as he groaned into your mouth, his hips thrusting as you brought him closer and closer to a release.

“What are you-” His eyes opened wide as you broke the kiss, pushing him back slightly before dropping to yours knees, his cock twitching as you ran your tongue up and down his length, replacing your hand. The groan that hit your ears was like music as you took part of his length into your mouth, hand re-wrapping around his base as you feel into a steady rhythm. A handle gently placed to the back of your head as you bobbed over him, muscles of his toned chest beginning to twitch as his breath became ragged. A flicker of your tongue under his head, a strangle groan and you felt his hot release shot against the back of your throat. He panted above you with shut eyes, regaining his breath before opening them, eyes glossing over once more as he watched you swallow and releasing him with a lewd pop.

The next few seconds were a blur, him picking you up as he turned off the water, carrying you into his room and placing you on his bed. Both of you dripping wet, lust in your eyes and a blazing heat shared between you. He almost looked hesitant to continue before the words, ‘make me yours Soryu’ fell from your mouth. Lips came crashing back to yours as he pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you.

Mamoru:

Mamoru liked to tease you, often referring to you as a kid but he always saw you as a woman. Especially when you would clap back at the remarks the other bidders made at you, nothing warmed his heart more than seeing someone stand up to Eisuke and down-right refuse him. The lingerie he saw you wear that night was like the lingerie he pictured you wearing so many times in his thoughts, but never did he think you would actually be the type to wear it. He knew all about the cameras Eisuke had planted across the penthouse, he was a detective for christ sake, he even knew how to access them off his own phone. The night the bidders watched you on the screen, he removed all copies from the system, all except one that he kept for his personal use. He wasn’t like the others, taking a woman for a quick fling here and there, his main company was his right hand and porn. But porn was fully replaced with your own video, he timed himself to release at the same time as you, the way you breathlessly moaned his name was enough to send him over the edge.

Today was the day the penthouse was to be cleaned, so far you’d done every room except Mamoru’s. You always left his last due to him sleeping in late, it was just easier to do it last rather than argue with the detective who protested for days the last night you went and woke him up. Wiping the small bead of sweat from your brow, you picked up the cleaning supplies and headed to his room. Pushing open the door, his room was still dark but a glow of his phone indicated he was awake.

“Hey I’m gonna clean is that okay-” You started but stopped, a moaning coming from his phone and your eyes shot open to see Mamoru sprawled under the covers, phone in one hand and a jerking movement coming from the other. He stilled as he saw you.

“Fuck I’m so sorry,” You blushed, going to quickly retreat but the moan of ‘Mamoru’ stopped you, that was your voice coming from the phone. Your eyes meet his, he already knew he had been caught jerking off to you, lust and desire raging through your body.

“You know,” You whispered, shutting the door and dropping your supplies, taking striking steps towards him, “If you put the phone down,”. You began unbuttoning your uniform, pushing the dress off of your waist to stand in your underwear before, “You can have the real thing,”. He let out a heavy groan, throwing the covers off of him, the sight of his toned body and throbbing member standing fully erect with a glistening beam of pre-cum on his head made your eyes widened.

“Then quit staring and get over he darlin,” His eyes flitting with lust as he watched you climb onto the bed and straddle him. Hands indulged over each other's bodies, your underwear quickly stripped from your body as fingers teased your wetting folds, reaching down to wrap your hand around his thick cock and pump him. A finger thrusted into you before another joined, both of you bringing pleasure to each other in a synchronized rhythm. His breaths started to become more frayed, a sign if things didn’t stop quickly it would all be over too fast. Taking the hint, you released him from your grip as he pulled his fingers from within you, lapping at the wetness that dripped off them with his tongue. Lifting yourself up, you lowered yourself onto his head as your wetness coaxed down him, his hands resting on your waist. The breathy moans fell from your lips as you tilted your hips, angling him to hit the sweet spot inside you as you took him inch by inch, the thickness of him stretching you to a new high. Falling into a steady rhythm, your nails digging into his chest leaving red marks as he helped guide your rocking motions. A string of groans and mumbled words fell from him as each motion, “Fuck sweetheart,”, “Your so tight darlin”, “Your fuckin perfect,”, each one spurring you on more. Throwing your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the thrust of his hips as he ground up to meet you sent sparks of electricity down your spine.

“M-Mamo!” You cried, muscles clamping down over his cock as he let out a heavy groan, your orgasm hitting you as he continued to thrust into you. He reached his peak seconds after yours, the tightness of your core coaxing him into his own release.

You panted for a few moments, head rolled forward as he held you against his chest, the scent of sex and sweat lingering in the air. His cock still buried inside you as you felt the rapid beating of his heart beneath his chest, his hands caressing your back in a soft motion as your breaths came back to normal.

“I should get back to work,” You managed through slight pants, the hold on you tightened.

“Your not going anywhere darlin’” He grinned, rolling you over so you lay beneath him, his cock re-hardening inside you, “Your mine now kid, I’m not planning on letting you go anyway,”.

Baba:

Baba was an actual gentleman, the rumours and exchanges of his sex life were heavily exaggerated. Yes he did go through a patch in his life when he was jumping from bed to bed but it was nowhere near the extent of what the other bidders said it was. He was actually a hopeless romantic, wanting more than just a meaningless fling which is why when she entered his life, he never ever considered another woman. Instead she flooded his thoughts, innocent at first but the growing lust for her pursued into dirty ideas. He found porn no longer interested him, no the only thing he thought about was her, each time she popped into his head the blood went rushing down south. The video of her the bidders saw stirred in emotions he didn’t know he had, it wasn’t just lust, he wanted to rip the tv from the wall and prevent anyone from seeing her like that. Anyone expect him. He relieved her images in his mind, spilling over his lower stomach as he hand once again found itself rubbing over his cock. The next day, the thief snuck into Eisuke’s office and downloaded the video onto his phone, removing all traces from with a click of a button. He was a thief, destroying footage and breaking in was practically his day-job. His fingers skimmed over the video, admiring her beauty until he found the part he wanted. He held his phone close to his ear listening with pure detail, his cock hardening and throbbing as he heard it, “Mitsu” whimpering from her lips as she came.

“Okay Mitsu, I’m done cleaning so I’ll see you later,” You smiled sweetly as he tipped his fedora at you, gathering up your supplies as you left his room, leaving the thief sitting at his desk. Mitsu’s room was the last room on your shift, meaning you was finally free to enjoy the rest of your day. You were planning on going to the market and enjoying the sunshine, a day full of your own leisure. Putting the supplies away in the cleaning cupboard, you noticed one item was missing from the pile. With a sigh you turned on your heels and walked back to Mitsu’s room, pushing the door open.

“Hey sorry I just forg-” Your jaw dropping as you witnessed the sight in front of you. Mitsu standing up from his desk, naked except for a tight pair of boxers with a strained erection, flustering as he covers it with his fedora and mashing the buttons on his phone.

“P-Princess!” His face red as a crying moan you instantly recognised, your face burning as red as his as you heard your moans coming from the device. You both stood still, eyes focused on each other as your chest rose heavily.

“I- Cloth… forgot-” You stuttered, still taking in the sight, the redness spreading down his neck.

“Mitsu…” You shut the door and took a bold step forward, “I-Is that me?”. His eyes averted your gaze and he hung his head slightly, giving you a clear answer. The heat of embarrassment washed over with arousal, the man you so longed to be with was turned on, over you. The moaning whimpers of his name came again from his phone and he finally got it to turn off, finally bringing his eyes to meet yours.

“Mitsu I want you,” The words gushed out before you could even recognise them, his eyes widening as he took a step towards you.

“You do?” He questioned, where had the man who could charm the pants off a nun gone?

“I thought that was made fairly obvious,” You teased, guesting on his phone as he chuckled, finally relaxing about the situation.

“Well it would be rude of me to deny my beautiful lady of such need,” He flashes you his trademark grin, closing the space between you and dropping his fedora. Your lips met in a hurried frenzy, both of your and his hands tugging to undress you before tugging at his boxers, his erect member standing free. His hands cup your naked breasts as your hand wrapped around his thickness, wanting moans falling from both of you. He guided you to the bed, gently pushing you down as he spread your thighs, peeling your panties away and exposing your glistening core to him.

“Your beautiful,” He whispered between kisses that traced up your thighs, pressing a gentle bite to the apex of your thighs met. His face settled between your thighs, the flat of his tongue stroking over your throbbing clit as you throw your head against the sheets, fingers clinging to his hair. He pushed his index and middle finger into his mouth, slicking them with saliva before spitting against your clit, his tongue coming back instantly to lap it through your folds. His fingers thrusted into you, making you cry out with pleasure, pumping into as he lapped at your clit. Your hands twisted into his hair tugging at his to guide his movements, your hips grinding against his face as he ravished you. He ate at you like a starving dog with a bone, never ceasing for a moment as another finger found itself inside your tight core.

‘M-Mitsu!” You trembled, thighs clenching at the side of his head as your back arched fully off the bed. A harsh nibble at your clit sent you over the edge, ecstasy racking through your body as your orgasm hit you with an intense wave. He removed his fingers and lapped at your essence, savouring every drop from your leaking core.

“Now my princess,” He hummed, finally pulling himself away to crawl on top of you.

“I hope you forgive me but I fear I can’t hold back any longer,” His crashing down on yours as you taste yourself on his tongue, your legs spread to let him settle between you.

“Don’t hold back Mitsu,” Your nails racking down his back as he thrusts his head inside you with a pleasurable groan.

“Your mine princess, only mine,” He groaned, thrusting and fully hilting himself inside you.

---

MC finds out the camera: “Is this really necessary?” Mamoru grumbled.

“Shut up whining,” Soryu scoffed.

“It’s embarrassing,” Eisuke mumbled, but a smirk still graced his lips.

“You're only saying that because you got us caught and into this mess!” Baba chuckled.

“Now, now, boys,” You purred, crossing your legs as you sat back to lean on the sofa, the bidders standing in front of you in a line, “It’s only fair”.

You found out about the camera and the mens little watching after finding Ota trying to break into Eisukes computer one day on your shift. After a harsh pinch to the ear, the artist spilled and the only thing on your mind was revenge.

You watched eagerly as they dropped their boxers, a wide range of length cocks all different in thickness and curves stood solid in-front of you. Your tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip.

“Make it good show boys,” You winked, watching as their hands wrapped around their own lengths. Oh how sweet revenge can be.

#kbtbb #kbtbb smut #voltage kbtbb #kbtbb eisuke #kbtbb soryu #kbtbb baba #kbtbb mamoru #kbtbb ota #eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb soryu oh #mamoru kishi #kbtbb mitsunari #mitsunari baba #kbtbb mitsu #voltage smut #voltage fanfic #love 365 #love 365 smut #love 365 kbtbb

209 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

Text

Lighting Up Your World Part 2

Episode 18

Author’s notes: THANK YOU!!!!! I’ll start there, thank you guys for your overwhelming support on part 1 that I posted yesterday. You guys make me feel like such a great writer, hearing that some of you cried because of something I wrote. incredible. This part is shorter because I was a bit strapped for time and I scrapped a vast amount the original version I had because I got new ideas and I just didn’t feel like the other version was enough or had the feeling I wanted. Anyway, I hope you guys still enjoy Part 2 aka Episode 18. Tell me your favorite line in the comments, I just think that would be cute hehe lol. *Plays “Lighting Up Your World” ♫ ♫

He remembers the exact moment that he purchased the ring, its sparkling brilliance from under the glass display, he imagined it sitting on her dainty fingers taking the place of her many other decorative rings. He imagined her face has he placed it on her finger. The store associate had wondered over to him with a knowing smile on his face, as if he knew that look very well, had seen it on the lovesick faces of countless men. After a few minutes of rapid questioning, he walked out with the precious stone in his possession, nerves shooting up and down his veins until he felt like a ball of anxiety. The ring heavy as lead in his pocket as he staggered home in a daze, in disbelief at what he'd done.

When he had come home to the castle, he could feel the ring burning a hole through the pocket of his jeans. His heart pattering away, erratic in his chest. He avoided eye contact with Mun-yeong as she greeted him at the door, candied smile welcoming home as she eagerly pulling him into the house demanding that he play with her.

She hadn’t been amused by his suggestion of cards.

Viciously pushing him in the wall and latching onto his neck like a leech. Hours later, he stumbled out of bed panting as he stealthily hid the box in the bottom of his drawer,covering it with mounds of clothes before tiptoeing into his bed alongside his brother dreaming of Mun-yeong in pristine white walking down an aisle that was laden with soft pink rose petals that matched the hue of her lips. He woke up saying "I do." Relieved that his brother was a relatively deep sleeper and hadn't heard his slip of tongue.

The sounds of nature, birds chirping and the wind rustling leaves pulled him from the sandman's hold, as he blinked awake, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Immediately he noticed the lack of pressure on his arm, too light without her head cushioned on his bicep as she used him as her personal pillow. He had long stopped trying to get her to use a pillow, she was adamant that his arms were a perfect substitute. A wave of pride blossomed in his chest every time she would stroke a finger across the bulging muscle, humming in approval, openly appreciating his body.

Stumbling to the bathroom he groggily brushes his teeth before hopping in the shower to wash off the sweat that lingered from being pressed against her flesh all night. After changing into his outfit, another t-shirt and jeans with sneakers, he’s a creature of habit. He walks out of the camping can eyes scouting for his missing girlfriend before finding her over the open grill, poking at the meat she's grilling, tongue poking out slightly as she impatiently waits for their tenderness.

What he doesn't expect to see is a little helper on her side, Min-jo, sits in the chair right next to her, eagerly watching the meat as it grills, babbling away at Mun-yeong, who for the most part looks content in the child's presence.

"How do I pick the people I put in my family?" Her innocent voice lifts with curiosity as she peers up at Mun-yeong, eyes shining brightly with young hope and naivete. "What age will I be ready to choose my family?"

With a sigh he watches Mun-yeong bring a slightly underdone piece of beef to her mouth, she's always too impatient to wait for food to reach its necessary temperature for consumption, higher internal heat his ass. The juices from the meat run down the side of her mouth, and he's left feeling like he's watching a lioness in the wild, lethal and it is majestic.

"Didn't I already tell you to stop following me? I don't have any answers for you." She dismissively responds, looking exasperated clearly this isn't her first time hearing and rebuking this question.

He coughs to announce his arrival, watching both their eyes snap up to settle on him, one pair with adoration the other disinterest then glee.

Min-jo greets him first, "Hi, Mr.Prince!" She waves enthusiastically at him, little hand looking like it could take flight at any moment, he blushes at his new moniker, glaring at Mun-yeong who smirks at the intended response.

"You don't need to call me that, remember I told you my name." He answers sheepishly rubbing his neck.

"But Ms. Witch told me that you and your brother, who is an illustrator saved her from her castle and then you lived happily ever after. I never knew that princes could save witches." She says the last sentence with pure wonder, sighing softly.

"Only if they're pretty princes just can't resist a pretty witch. They follow them wherever they go." Mun-yeong teasingly eyed him, images of young Gang-tae happily trailing after a dispassionate Mun-yeong playing out in both of their memories.

"Well I didn't exactly save her from the castle, I just lived there with her. Together, we made it happier. We became a family and a family has to live together, so they can lean on each other and not do pointless work." Mun-yeong scoffs at his reminder of Sang-tae's story, rolling her eyes affectionately at him.

"That sounds nice. And now you live on a house on wheels. I've never seen one before." She eyes the camping van, as he approaches them taking the last chair, on the left with Mun-yeong in the center.

"How long have you two been here?"

"This brat came here an hour ago, I keep telling her to go away but she won't listen. " She hands his a bowl of food and he notes with barely concealed amusement that a smaller bowl is aggressively placed in Min-jo's grasping hands.

"Thank you Miss Witch!" Min-jo chirps sweetly, scarfing down the food without another word.

Mun-yeong watches her before devouring her own food, her leg brushing against his when she sways into his body heat, a morning chill lingering in the air, as he glances at her and notices that she is wearing a short cotton romper, soft blue with white speckles splashed across the material. Drastic shift from yesterday's funeral best, he smiles at the implications. He wraps an arm around her shoulder drawing her into his heat, her hum of satisfaction rumbling through his body.

Min-jo's chopsticks clink on the bowl as she asks, "If you two share a brother, does that mean you are brother and sister?" His cheeks redden at the inquisitive child.

"No. He's my boyfriend, we share his brother."

"Oh." She easily accepts before adding to his embarrassment, "What do you do with a boyfriend?"

He whips his head to stare at Mun-yeong willing her not to ruin the innocence of a child, she looks back at him with a straight face before answering, "Well a lot of fun things. Sometimes we kiss, he likes that a lot and sometimes we even--"

"Yah!" He pinches her arm, hard.

She slaps him in retaliation, pouting as she soothes her pained skin, "I was going to say hug and hold hands. Why did you pinch me?"

He doesn't believe her for one second, her filter non-existent indiscriminate of the audience.

He glares at her until she resumes eating her food, ignoring the rest of Min-jo’s constant stream of questions. If she kept this up she could be an adept detective.

Entertaining a child has never been a task he's been troubled with before and he worries his lip as he looks at the little girl bouncing in her chair with unfiltered glee. They’d made the mistake of feeding her and now she had a boundless amount of energy, unable to keep still for even a moment.

"What should we do now Miss Witch?"

"I'm not here to entertain you. And he's my toy so you can't play with him." She juts her thumb in his direction, he admonishes at her statement arguing that he is not a toy. She nods unconvincingly as if his arguments are futile and she has already made up her mind.

"I'm bored." Min-jo continues, ignoring them.

"Then leave."

"But I don't want to." She whines.

"Then make your own fun."

Their bickering reminds him so much of Mun-yeong and Sang-tae tears prickle in his eyes as he decides to check on his brother. It's been two days since his abrupt departure, the longest they've been without each other. He softly announces that he'll her right back before disappearing into the van, their rising voices following him each step of the way.

I'm fine. I'm working and drawing. Stop worrying, have fun with Mun-yeong. Remember a kiss is better than a fight.

The highlights of his conversation with his older brother, who had answered on his third ring, rushing him off the phone because he was quote, "very booked and busy", he really needed to stop Mun-yeong from teaching his hyung her ridiculous slang. Especially phrases like that, that even he couldn't decipher. He had hummed along as if he wasn't completely lost before bidding Sang-tae goodbye.

He took a moment for himself before rejoining them outside, letting his brother's voice wash over him. He knew their relationship had a tinge of codependency but hadn't realized to what extent until their separation. This was good for them. Healthy. He knew that now.

It just hurt a little right now, but that was okay. Pain wasn't permanent.

The sounds of water splashing hit his ear drums as he jumps off the last step of the camping van, as if on autopilot he rushes to the lake, cold chill on his skin as he searches for Mun-yeong.

She stands on the bank of the lake. Safely out of reach, watching as Min-jo flaps her little arms wildly keeping herself afloat. She is helped by the presence of bright pink floaties on her arms, buoying her onto the surface of the wet escape.

"Can you come in the water Miss Witch?"

He watches Mun-yeong gaze at the water, fear bleeding into her irises before she blinks it away. Brief and clipped response, "No."

There is a pregnant pause, before the child continues, "Are witches afraid of water?"

Mun-yeong's eyes are cold as she looks at Min-jo, he watches the interaction enraptured in this achingly honest conversation encrypted in their own language.

"Yes."

He's releases a breath he didn't know he was hiding. Watching Min-jo nod at her response, "That's okay. Everyone is scared of something. I'm scared of being alone. But you said when I'm older I can find a family. Maybe one day you'll find a way to be in the water." She says it matter of fact, like she has no doubt that Mun-yeong will conquer this fear.

The sun is no longer as high in the sky and the skyline begins to swirl into hues of pink, orange and yellow. Like a mad painter dragged their unwashed paintbrush across the surface.

"I think it's time we took you back." His voice breaks their bubble as they turn to look at him. He smiles at them both, charmed by this little whirlwind who has bulldozed her way into Mun-yeong's path. Vaguely wondering what happens when a tornado and a hurricane meet?

They walk back to the diner, Min-jo in the center and the eyes that land on them make him wonder if they look like a family, Min-jo had reached out to grasp their hands but Mun-yeong had slapped it away complaining of her dirty lake hands. The girl had only laughed before happily holding his hand instead before Mun-yeong broke between them, reminding her that he was her toy much to this chagrin.

The same older woman who had prevented Min-jo from following them the previous day, hastily bursts through the door as they draw close enough to be seen, her frantic voice shrill in the air, "Where have you been? Why did you leave without telling me? Are you okay?!" She grabs Min-jo, raptly checking her body for injuries, touching the wet hair on her head before looking at them angrily.

"Who are you? And why are you with this child?"

Min-jo beats them to answer, "This is the pretty witch and her prince." She beams at the woman, who looks taken back at the response.

He bows low in apology before continuing the explanation, "I'm Moon Gang-tae and this is my girlfriend Ko Mun-yeong. She came to find us we wanted to make sure she made it back safely."

She stares at him, scrutinizing his answer but once she sees that the girl is not harmed she sighs before accept his apology, "Okay. Thank you, I'm sorry for any trouble she caused you." She respectfully bows in return.

"You must have been really worried about her."

She freezes at his statement, looking down at Min-jo before averting her eyes, "No. I wasn't. I.....was just bothered thinking about her."

He raises an eyebrow at the defensive deflection.

"That's the same thing." Mun-yeong quips sharply.

The woman's eyes narrow but there is no argument.

They all stand in silence, the wind howls around them, darkness beginning to fall as the sun drifts into the water.

It is time for them to go.

"Well this is goodbye, be well and stay safe." He bows once more, Mun-yeong waves once before turning away without another word to either. He shoots Min-jo an apologetic smile as her huge wet eyes follow Mun-yeong longingly.

Then she's ripping herself from the tight grip of the woman who cries at the action. She runs straight into Mun-yeong's back. Little feet thundering on the ground and she quickly closes the distance between them.

"Wait."

Mun-yeong halts her movement, still facing away.

"Can....I?.." She stutters around the words that jumble in her mouth, eyes staring a hole in Mun-yeong's back, she must be impervious to its heat. After a long drawn out pause she bravely finishes her question, "Can I be apart of your family?" The hope laced in her voice batters at his heart, she's just a child who wants to be loved. Crying out for it. Begging for it.

"No."

Her little head bows in defeat, nodding as if she understands, nobody wants her and she doesn't belong anywhere.

She starts to walk back to the woman, all the previous joy and wonder sucked from every cell of her body. Walking as if a marionette on a string, stilted.

"We're leaving. A family needs to stay together, to lean on each other." Mun-yeong's voice causes her to pause mid step, a twinge warmer than it was earlier. The first day of spring after winter's bitter cold. "You should find a family that worries about you and who needs someone to lean on too. A family that will never leave you."

He watches as those huge eyes slowly travel until they land on the lady. She runs back to her, body trembling as she looks at her like she's seeing her for the first time. Eyes now able to see what has always been right in front of her.

"Can we be a family?"

The woman gasps, turning her head away, eyes glistening. Min-jo reaches out and takes her hand, small palms appearing even tinier in the woman’s hold as she peers up hopeful once more.

He turns away before he can see the conclusion, walking away to fall into step with Mun-yeong, who turns to meet his gaze. He notices the tear streaks on her skin, fondly looking at her, falling ever more in love.

"How did it end?"

He shrugs, taking her hand, "I didn't stay. But I hope it's a happy ending."

"Me too." She squeezes his hand, tightly.

******************************************************************************************

She wordlessly goes into the camping van announcing that she wants to take a nap. He nods at her, pressing a kiss to her wet cheek before letting her go.

He opens the box of supplies he bought days ago, nerves all but obliterated, he's never been surer of anything in his life. He works diligently but quietly, eyes tracking the door of the camping van to ensure Mun-yeong doesn't suddenly appear before he's done. As he finishes his last touches, he climbs the stairs of the camping van. Eyes softening at the sight of his girlfriend laying on his bed roll, snuggling into his night shirt. He coos at the rare and precious sight, loathing the idea of waking her.

The choice is taken from him when her lashes flutter open and her unfocused eyes land on him, she jumps up nonchalantly hiding the shirt behind her. He pretends not to see it, pointedly looking away from her. Before he beckons her up.

"Come with me."

He offers his hand, sees her in all blue glowing in the sun as she waited for him.

Once again, she takes his hand. It's just as sweet as the first time. His heart is giddy with love.

He contemplates asking her to close her eyes but ultimately decided against it, he wants her to see and relish every moment.

Her small gasp as he pushes the door open makes his heart tremble and do a back-flip, bouncing all around the cavities of his chest. She looks around astonished at the scene, the faint twinkling of the fairy lights that adorn the camping van, blinking rhythmically, like stars that fell from the sky, the long winding path of rose petals that lead to a blanket that is topped with a bountiful basket and a bucket with wine.

"Wow."

She turns to look at him, eyes glossy and shining under the luminescence of the fairy lights. "What is this?"

He doesn't answer her question, actions have always spoken louder than words for him. He escorts her down the path of petals, softly crunching under their feet. Until they reach the blanket and he helps her sit before lowering himself next to her.

He opens the basket, removing all the food he purchased and hid away, small sandwiches and fresh fruits. He plucks a strawberry out before pressing it to her lips, "Open up." The dark desire that rolls through her eyes makes his body flush in return. She obeys silently, wrapping her lips around the soft flesh of the berry, biting down, relishing at the flavor before swallowing. She feeds him a slice of honey dew in return, fingers dragging across his lips bewitchingly.

They consume the rest of the food in silence, feeding themselves and each other in equal turns. Before he pours them both a bottle of the cheap wine he was able to purchase in a liquor store in the town. Her eyes never leave his face as she drinks the wine, captivated by his every move.

"Are you full?" He whispers not wanting to interrupt the calm that has settled like a warm blanket over them.

"Yes, I'm no longer hungry." Intentional pause, as her eyes lock on his lips. "For food."

Adjusting himself in his pants he ignores her tempting offer, for now. The main event is still around the corner and he needs all his wits for that.

Taking her hand in his large palms, he rubs his thumb along the soft skin, gazing into her eyes with his own laid open, wanting her to see everything he feels.

"Mun-yeong, I love you. I love who I am with you, who I've become with you, I want to be with you always."

She blinks at his words, words escape her as she stares at him. He doesn't give her a chance to flounder much more, pulling out what he had hidden in his pocket and placing it in her hand.

The button eyes of the nightmare doll, glow under the moonlight and she looks down at the thing she once dismissed as "ugly crap", now a prized possession.

"Mang-tae?..."

"I'm still a coward a little, he's going to help me tell you a message." He guides her eyes to the scroll sticking from the pouch, all too similar to her concealed message to him.

She slowly pulls the paper from the sack, hands trembling as she unfurls it and reads the message written. She's a fast reader, incredibly so, he knows that and the message is fairly short yet she stares at it for what feels like hours, maybe even years, time is relative in the moment.

She reads the message again and again and again and again and again.

Before she finally puts it down. Then the tears come, easily, flowing like a river, soaking the neck of her romper and she lets them fall, doesn't interrupt their journey, allows herself this brief moment of vulnerability.

She's never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

He tells her so, "You look so beautiful. I want to see this face until I die."

Without a word she places Mang-tae tenderly on the blanket, before crawling into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and she answers his question with a kiss. Their lips crash together with enough force to knock him backwards, dragging her with him as they tumble on the blanket.

Her tongue prods at his mouth and he eagerly allows her entrance, moaning at the sweet flavor of strawberry that floods his taste buds, sucking her tongue into his mouth to get more. His hands rub at the exposed skin of her back, traveling down to squeeze her soft lush ass, bringing their pelvis in contact. She grinds down sensually on his erection, moaning at the hot sensation. He pulls the tie holding her romper together, pulling back from the kiss to strip her bare. She resembles a wood nymph naked underneath the smattering of stars in the inky sky, the forest rustles around them.

While he's lost in the glory of her body, she undresses him, pulling his shirt over his head and pressing hot open kisses against his stomach, before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them own with his boxers in one firm tug. Then she hungrily gazes at his body, hands massaging his thighs before she crawls back into his arms, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces.

Their tongues meet in a languid battle, bodies rolling against each other like waves, uncontrollably. He presses a curious finger at the folds hidden between her thighs and groans at the enticing wetness that surrounds the digit. Coating in her sweet juices. She shakes her head above him, lifting up to dislodge his finger. He looks at her in question.

"I'm too close. I can't take foreplay. Make love to me." She pleads, demands, begs. All of them, at once.

She steals his breath, just like she did his heart and his control. He wonders what he will have left after her? What will still be his when she takes it all? He would give anything to her.

He is incapable of denying her so with a gentle grip of her waist he moves her aligning their bodies before his cock brushes against her most intimate spot, with a fluid tilt of his hip he slides into her tight pussy, it feels like coming home.

He exalts at the sensation, letting it roll over him, basking in her constrictions around him as she wiggles in his arms before pulling his ear lobe into her wet mouth, "Please."

He thrusts into her, powerful but steady, drawing her close and forcing her to meet him. She begins to ride him, feet planted beside his hips as she rams herself down into his hard cock, the view is unbelievable her face twisted in euphoria under a million dazzling stars, he takes a snapshot in his mind.

Before she knocks all thoughts out of his head, plunge down harder and faster onto him, he grabs her waist desperately, needing to slow her down. But she fights his grip, pushing his hands beside his head and he could easily take control but as he watches her fall apart he realizes she needs this. Desperately. Everything tonight has been out of her control, she needed to gain some of it back. Needed to find her footing as he effortlessly swept her off her feet.

He lets her hold his hands down, giving no resistant, watching her fuck herself on him, entranced by the indecent sight of his dick disappearing in and reappearing out of her. In. Out. In. Out. InOut. InOut. She sets a punishing pace despite asking him to make love to her but he muses that their version of love hasn't always been gentle or tranquil, sometimes it was volatile even explosive so for them this is making love. It similar to everything else in their lives has layers, that they are continually peeling back to expose a new coat.

She starts to moan loudly, little ahs so sweet in the wind, twisting and undulating until every downward thrust bumps against her clit, she keens as she pants out his name, "Moon Gang-tae, Moon Gang-tae!"

He holds on for the ride, hips slamming violently into hers as she tightens around him, walls crushing him until finally she shakes in his arms, her body twitching almost out of his hold and he swiftly snatches her back, drilling into the tight wall of her pussy until he feels his pinnacle nearing, the blood in his head surges and he feel his length swell and explode as he tumbles over the edge, driving every last drop of him inside her until she's stuffed full.

She collapses onto him, knocking the wind from his lung. But he takes her weight, wrapping her in his arms.

"Yes." She breaths into his ears.

Sliding out of the tight glove of her pussy he rolls to the side, catching Mang-tae once more, her brows farrow again.

"You didn't let me finish." He gently chides. Taking her hand and bringing it the the pouch on the doll's back once more, he sees the shock that washes over her features, eyes large in wonder as she pulls out the object hidden inside.

A sparkling gold ring, a modest princess cut diamond sits proudly on top, as beautiful as its new owner.

"Are you serious?" Her voice trembles, the tears coming again.

"Yes. But right now it's just a promise ring, a promise that one day I'll be a man who's worthy of being your husband. I wanted to give it to you now so you know that I'm yours and I want you to be mine in very sense of the word. What do you say?"

Her face crinkles into a smile, "You promised not to make me cry again. You already broke that promise tonight. You better not break this one."

He chuckles, "Those are happy tears that doesn't count. And you didn't answer my question." He needs to hear her answer.

She looks at him from under her lashes, naked and beautiful under the inky black night sky, lips blessing him with her response, "Sure. Why not?"

He smiles at the nonchalant answer as she weeps, before taking the ring from her hand, gently pressing the ring onto her finger, it looks like it belongs, perfect fit.

She tackles him onto the blanket, showering his face with kisses as he laughs loudly, freely. Living out his wildest dream with girl that he liked who become the woman that he loves.

The message on the scroll crushed between their weight. But the words are unaffected.

Marry me, someday?

They were in no rush they had a lifetime ahead of them.

Maybe even another after that, if they were reincarnated and destiny brought them together again.

*******************************************************************************************

She drives them to their new location, he doesn't comment on her driving past the diner or looking through the glass to see Min-jo happily talking to the woman, their hands wrapped around each other as she pulls the lady behind her, excitedly jabbering. Neither of them say anything but she smiles the whole drive after, humming along to BLACKPINK on the radio.

♫ ♫ Dududududu ♫ ♫

He still doesn't comment when they end up at another site with a lake and mountains in the background.

After using the bathroom when he comes out of her van he finds her standing on the bank of the river. Feet barely grazing the water.

Wrapped around her arms are the bright pink floaties he saw on Min-jo's arms.

His breath hitches as she looks back at him, defiant smile on her face. Her ring shining from its permanent spot on her finger.

She takes a step towards the water.

#its okay to not be okay fic #its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #moon gang tae #ko mun yeong #emotional fic #I really felt things writing this #hope you enjoy part 2 #episode 18 #tell me your favorite line

118 notes · View notes

bubble-tea-bunny · 5 years ago

Text

searching for sunshine

[tamaki suoh x reader]

author’s note: tamaki suoh is my anime bf i love him so much. this has been a psa. inspired by this prompt

word count: 5,147

It feels like the opening scene of a romance novel, the way everything begins.

The sky is clear and blue this afternoon and the air is pleasantly warm, enough to go without a coat and enjoy the occasional cool gust of wind tickling the skin. Downtown sees a fair amount of people traipsing up and down the sidewalks, the main street lined with boutiques featuring the latest fashion and trendy cafes with chalkboard signs advertising their specials for the weekend.

Tamaki’s roped Kyoya into joining him at the shops, on the condition Tamaki be the one to pay for lunch. That had been an easy deal to make. The agreed upon restaurant is at the corner of the current block—it’s expensive, Kyoya had made sure of it, but both of them know the price is no issue. Still, Kyoya doesn’t like to make things so simple, but Tamaki supposes that’s just one reason he likes him so much.

There’s ten minutes until their scheduled meeting time and as Tamaki is wont to do, he gets distracted a mere four shopfronts away from his destination. His walk until now had mostly been casual glances into the windows, scanning this season’s collection but with no desire to stop and get a closer look. That changes as he slows to a complete stop, standing before a mannequin donning a gray jacquard cotton jacket, paired with casual slacks and sneakers. Tamaki hums in thought, hand on his chin, and mentally runs through his wardrobe for any outfits he might be able to put together with that jacket. He’d been eyeing a similar jacket from last fall, but the pattern and colors hadn’t been to his taste. This one, however…

Kyoya can wait an extra five minutes, can’t he? Tamaki has walked up to the front door and nodded in thanks to the security guard who pulls it open for him before he can come up with an answer. But in the back of his mind as he walks up to an employee to inquire about the jacket, he’s thinking Yes, he can. Not as if it’s anything new anyway, and Tamaki knows he’ll be left grinning and chuckling sheepishly when he finally arrives, late, and with a shopping bag in hand (because he’s quite sure, now that he’s been shown the jacket for inspection and he’s started to feel the fabric, that he will be leaving with it).

He shrugs off his cardigan and tosses it on the back of one of the plush sofa chairs so he can try the jacket on. It fits him well, shoulder seams lining up perfectly, and it isn’t too long. The material is soft to touch, and he notes to the employee assisting him that this would suited both for colder and warmer weather. I might just buy it then wear it out of the store! he jokes.

Deciding to purchase the jacket had been quick, but he gets even more sidetracked as he starts to inquire about the rest of this season’s editions (he had, admittedly, not been following the collections too closely recently) and it seems Kyoya would have to wait an extra ten minutes instead. Though luckily his patience is spared from any more delay, for Tamaki glances quickly at his watch in the middle of conversation and realizes he should get going. He says he’d like to buy the jacket, and he meanders around the store as the employee takes it to the back of the store to pack up for him.

The shop had been receiving a steady flow of customers in his time here, but now it’s quieted down to just a few others. Your laugh is what grabs his attention, and his eyes find you where the bags are, a quilted leather purse with a little tassel slung on your shoulder, which you observe in the mirror, angling your body to see how it goes with your outfit. He doesn’t catch the context of the conversation with the employee helping you, and thus isn’t certain why you’ve laughed, but that matters little to him compared to the laugh itself and, more importantly, the smile on your face. It stays there, a small upturn of your lips, even after the amusement from the joke or the funny quip wears off, and he’d like the softness of it to lull him to sleep.

And perhaps Kyoya’s patience hasn’t quite been spared.

Tamaki pretends to browse the backpacks, a sly attempt to get closer to you. He wants to say he isn’t eavesdropping, but if he did, he’d be lying. With his gaze on a leather backpack and his fingers tinkering with the zippers, he overhears your hesitation about that particular purse, wondering if maybe the one you’d been considering before would be better. The employee asks if you’d like him to take said bag back down from the shelf so you could compare, and that’s when Tamaki finally looks up. You’re still wearing the quilted leather purse.

“I think that one suits you nicely.”

You blink and twist around to see who’s made the comment, and Tamaki’s prepared with a friendly grin. Your confusion melts away and it gives way to that wonderful smile again, and you ask curiously, “You think so?”

Tamaki hums in affirmation, and, taking your continuation of the conversation as a positive signal, leaves the backpacks behind to join you in front of the mirror. He stands off to the side and tries not to crack a smile too big as you strike a couple of poses, giving him varying angles from which to judge just how well this bag matches your style. Of course, he doesn’t know you well enough to say if it truly suited you, but he’s always had a knack for this kind of thing.

“Quilted leather is a sophisticated choice,” he elaborates. “Mature and modern.”

Your eyes narrow thoughtfully as you mull over his words. (You are so cute!) And your smile could light the deepest reaches of space. “You’re right. It does look good.” You undersell yourself. It looks great.

Tamaki chuckles and nods his approval, then tilts his head curiously, glancing at your bag then over at the shelves to appraise the other colors choices for this model. “But maybe get it in antique rose… That is the color this season.” Thank goodness he’d had that conversation about the new collection just a few minutes ago.

The employee who’d been helping him finally emerges, his jacket tucked away in a box, which has been placed into a bag, ready to go. She calls out to him and he tells her he’ll be right there. He turns his attention back to you briefly, hating to have to part ways.

“I hope I could be of help,” he states.

You smile. “You’ve been plenty. Thanks.”

He’d like to be a whole lot more to you. You’ve quickly found a spot to settle down in a corner of his brain, and he thinks about you the whole duration of his walk to the restaurant (“You’re twenty minutes late, Tamaki!”) and then some.

Kyoya gets an earful over lunch, and he doesn’t react the entire time Tamaki recounts the experience but Tamaki doesn’t mind because he knows Kyoya is listening. At the end of his spiel, Kyoya just has one question: Did you get her name?

Tamaki deadpans. “I didn’t…” It’s a quiet confession, as if he’s embarrassed, or more accurately, as if he’s shocked that he’d never asked for it. He’d liked you enough that he really would have enjoyed talking to you more, but the employee had come out with his jacket and Kyoya had already been waiting so long and—!

Had he been flustered? He definitely didn’t feel as though he was, but it was difficult not to be set at ease by your little grin. Maybe it made him forget, maybe you made him forget that he was supposed to be the one charming you and not the other way around. Where had the Tamaki Suoh, king of the host club, been? A club where sweet-talking girls is literally his job. Had you outdone him, to captivate him before he could do it to you and what’s more, to do so without words?

His heart beats quicker at the realization that that is very much what happened and the fluster was merely delayed. He feels it full force now, the disappointment to still not know who you are and the shock to have been caught off guard like this. And he bemoans to Kyoya, repeating miserably I didn’t get her name, Kyoya…! It’s halfway to an exasperated sob of disappointment and Kyoya sighs at the theatrics.

“Who knows, perhaps you’ll run into her again,” he remarks in an attempt to comfort the distraught blond.

“I’d need a whole lot of luck for that,” Tamaki responds, huffing hopelessly.

“You’ve had luck on your side many times before. What’s one more?”

Tamaki purses his lips and acquiesces with a noncommittal shrug. Even if that were true, when’s the next time he’d come across you? Who knows how long that could be! For now, the image of your amiable grin would have to do, to keep him going, to keep him motivated to be on the lookout. He’ll dream that the glint in those kind eyes of yours are glittering from affection and not just the overhead lights of the shop with its carpeted floors and plush chairs and complimentary bottles of expensive sparkling water.

Come Monday, Kyoya’s forced to hear the same speech again as Tamaki recounts his conversation with you, this time to the rest of the club. He’s standing, too jittery with excitement to sit as the memory of you is pushed to the forefront. Everyone else is lounging back on the couches, all with varying expressions of confusion and amusement as Tamaki gestures enthusiastically. The tone of his voice denotes just how taken he had been with you. And in a fit of his textbook histrionics, he brings the back of his hand up to his forehead, eyes closed, like he’s feeling faint.

“She was mesmerizing.”

Hikaru raises a brow. He’s never seen Tamaki so caught up on anyone, at least not genuinely. He’s played up this act when on the clock for the club, dazzling girls left and right and professing them to be the apple of his eye, the forbidden fruit in the garden he would gladly partake of. To be honest, it’s a bit… strange to see it now, real and unrehearsed. “I bet.”

It’s only partly sarcastic, but before Tamaki gets the chance to be annoyed, Kaoru interjects. “Then ask her out.”

Tamaki’s hand goes from his forehead to clutch at his chest and he looks offended at the proposition. “Are you out of your mind?! She’s gorgeous, and when I say gorgeous, I mean traffic collision-causing gorgeous.”

Honey tilts his head. “Wow, she must be really pretty for you to say that, Tama-chan!” Mori grunts in agreement.

“You never have a problem talking to girls,” Hikaru states. “She’s really got you hooked, hasn’t she?”

“Well, yeah, but also…” Tamaki sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I can’t ask her out anyway because I may not have… exactly… asked for her name.”

Kaoru’s eyes widen. “So you don’t even know who she is?”

“Then how will you ever see her again?” Hikaru asks.

Tamaki groans, the panic setting in once more as the twins remind him of his initial doubt. He laments that he has no idea if he’ll ever see you again and he really messed this up big time and how could he be the president of something like the host club if he missed something so simple and maybe the charm’s only good when he’s the one in control because it’s clear that with you, you were the one with the reins and he was letting you steer by no will of his own. Is that what it felt like to be at the mercy of his own allure?

“Now now,” Kyoya interrupts before Tamaki digs himself into a hole of self-pity, finally looking up from his accounts book. “We all know Tamaki’s got a fair amount of luck. Who’s to say he won’t see her again?”

“Me,” Hikaru mutters. Kaoru lightly elbows him but he’s cracked a small smile, unable to be contained.

Tamaki glares at them, brow twitching. “I heard that.”

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll run into her!” Honey reassures. “Maybe even soon!”

Tamaki sighs, still not entirely convinced but grateful for at least some consolation. Keep dreaming he tells himself, and typically such a statement denotes cynicism and a warning not to hold one’s breath, but he says it with an optimistic authenticity, a reminder to keep the thought of you close, because maybe it’ll bring you closer to him, and he would indeed have the pleasure of crossing your path again.

Murmurs of a second-year transfer fill the halls one day, and the atmosphere is buzzing with excitement at the prospect of a new student. She’s coming from another prestigious academy outside the country. She moved here after her father, one of the higher-ups of an investment bank, was moved to the local branch. The girls gossip and giggle, hoping she’s nice and exclaiming they can’t wait to meet her. The boys wonder if she’s cute.

Tamaki flips to a new page in his notebook in preparation for the following lecture and smiles a little as he picks up bits and pieces of the chatter in the classroom. The new student is in his class, so they’re more excited than the rest. He’s looking forward to meeting her, just the same as everyone else, and he ponders if he could persuade her to visit the host club. He knows just the trick—he’d sweep her off her feet, pull her in with sweet words and the suggestion that her sweet company might be better enjoyed with sweet treats. And so why not stop by to see him? He’ll serve her tea, admire the gloss of her lips once she takes a sip and admit that he yearns to taste the remnants of the rose tea still settled upon them.

He’s too busy smiling to himself at what he considers to be a very well-thought-out plan, to notice that the teacher has arrived and the rest of his classmates have settled into their seats. It’s only when the teacher begins to speak and alert them of the arrival of the newest student that he looks up.

Either luck truly favors him or he’s done so much fantasizing that fate could ignore his desires no longer and conceded to his pleas. His eyes widen at seeing you at the head of the classroom, and you also seem to have noticed him right away, as you’ve already been watching him. He can’t hear the teacher introducing you over the buzzing in his ears, and he’s paranoid this is actually a dream, and he fell asleep at his desk, and you’re not the one who’s joining his class and he’ll just wake up later to find out who it is.

“—so make sure you help her feel welcome here!”

At the end of the teacher’s little speech, you bow slightly in respect, enunciating your words so everyone can understand as you say thanks, and remark that you hope to be a worthy addition to Ouran Academy.

Tamaki still can’t wipe the shock off his face even as you proceed down his row, to the empty desk two spaces back. Your gaze momentarily finds his again and you smile, small and imperceptible but one of recognition and his heart will probably burst out of his chest any second now. He catches a whiff of your perfume, vibrant and refreshing—it reminds him of Biarritz—and it’s only now that he registers the bag on your shoulder, fashioned with quilted leather and colored an elegant antique rose.

Sure, fate’s made it simpler by pushing you together, but it didn’t make it completely easy. Tamaki’s not the one to sweep you off your feet first. It’s the gaggle of girls who swarm around you during every break period that sweep you away. You’re occupied with them the remainder of the day, and Tamaki spares occasional glances in your direction, checking for any opening to insert himself but finding none.

By the end of the school day, he hasn’t said a word to you, and duties to the host club have him in music room 3 directly after his last class. He gushes about you to the others again, but he does so even quicker than before due to the short time allotted before the club opens its doors for the day. I can only hope that those girls convince her to come here! he states, desperation apparent in his voice. She’s so close yet so far away!

Hikaru shakes his head at Tamaki’s woe is me dramatics. The fact you’ve ended up at the same school was already a lot for him to process. It seems too ridiculous to be true that the very girl Tamaki had run into has come here. By this point, you stopping by the music room had to happen at least once. He addresses this to temper the president’s distress. “If she’s already at Ouran, she’s bound to end up at the host club eventually.”

“Yes, eventually…” Tamaki assents with a sigh. “But I would prefer sooner rather than later.”

They’re not left to linger on the conversation for longer than that, as Kyoya announces it’s time to open. The boys are always booked straight through, and the first appointments start coming in almost immediately. Tamaki take a deep breath, then dons his kingly smile and gets to work.

He tries to imagine each girl is you, and it pushes him to layer on the extra charisma. When they melt at his words and his proclamations of love and devotion, the pride he feels comes from fantasizing that it’s you who turns into a puddle before him. If your charm was at 100 percent, he would just have to increase his to 200.

The room always smells like roses and Tamaki hasn’t kept count of how many he has given today. The scent is gentle, beautiful like all the girls he has the privilege to entertain, but deep down he’s longing to take in the fragrance of that French seaside town and pretend that the warmth of the sun shining into the music room is washing over him as he sits on the white-sand beach and listens to the lapping of waves on the shore.

Before any of the host club members know it, they’ve run down their list of appointments and the day’s activity is at an end. None of them is ever cognizant of the time and it always comes as a surprise when the crowd dies down and Kyoya announces they’re done. The tea sets clank quietly as they clean up the space in preparation for tomorrow. The tables are put away, leaving most of the room bare save for a couple of couches which are too large to bother moving every day.

Hikaru and Kaoru are discussing the last girl they had as they stack saucers, and how adorable she had been, trying her best to guess which twin was which with a deep blush on her cheeks. She had it right the first time Hikaru recalls. Kaoru chuckles. But she’d been so flustered, she kept changing her answer!

Once the room is cleared and they’re about to make their leave, a knock on the door interrupts their conversations. They look to the entrance and watch as the knob is turned and the heavy door is pushed back. Your head peeks through the gap, curious eyes double-checking the room you’re at before finding the group of boys standing in the middle.

“Oh, um…” you start quietly. Remembering that trying to speak while halfway hidden is no polite means of conversation, you step fully inside, but remain by the door. “Some girls told me I should visit the host club, but I didn’t get a chance until now. Music Room 3 right? Though it looks like you’re done for the day…” You chuckle nervously, motioning to the almost empty space.

Every host club member but Kyoya turns his gaze to Tamaki, who hardly seems to notice, for his attention is solely on you. He stutters, some incoherent words leaving his mouth like he’s forgotten how to speak. You purse your lips, staying where you are and unsure if you’re able to venture in farther. You’re smiling as you look at them (but Tamaki can swear you’re looking right at him), though as the seconds tick by you wonder if maybe you should leave.

“I mean I can always… come back tomorrow?” you suggest, now a little confused.

“Nonsense.” Kyoya pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and steps forward. “Miss [Name], how have you been enjoying Ouran so far?”

Your smile is more at ease now that the conversation is going somewhere, and you tell him you love it here. Everyone is so nice! He follows up with questions as to how your father is settling in at his new location, and how his own father is looking forward to doing business with yours. You nod, mentioning how your father has also expressed interest in working with The Ootori group.

The clearly familiar air between you surprises the others, but Tamaki most of all. He has already blocked out the business talk between you and Kyoya, and interrupts it with an exclamation, equal parts shock and betrayal to discover Kyoya knows, and apparently has already known, who you are.

“You know her?!” Tamaki yells, stumbling forward and clutching Kyoya’s shoulder to shake him to and fro.

Kyoya is nonplussed by the action, and instead seems inconvenienced to be treated in such a manner in the presence of the child of another noteworthy businessman. “Of course I do, Tamaki. You know I like to get acquainted with notable people such as [Name]. We met a couple of weeks ago, during dinner with her and her parents.”

Tamaki slowly stops shaking Kyoya and stills, but his fingers are still curled into the fabric of his blazer. He considers the timeline with this new piece of information, and weakly, he voices the revelation which has come to him. “So you already knew it was her…? When I talked about her that one day?”

“You talked about me?”

Tamaki’s eyes shoot to you at your question, and his cheeks heat up at inadvertently admitting that to you. But you don’t appear to be weirded out or put off, judging by your smile, flattered that you had stuck with him as much as you had that he felt the need to share his experience with his friends (he would yell it from the rooftop too if you wanted him to). Still, he can’t help laughing nervously, spluttering and shrugging that yeah, okay, he did, but he wasn’t being creepy about it he swears and it’s just he’d really enjoyed the conversation he had with you even if it was just two minutes and about something so bland as bag colors—

“I can hardly recognize him,” Hikaru murmurs so only the other three host club members with him can hear. They’re all still standing in the center of the room, unintentional spectators to the situation unfolding in front of them.

“Yeah, who knew Tama-chan could be so awkward!” Honey exclaims, and he doesn’t try to lower his volume the way Hikaru had.

Tamaki looks mortified as Honey’s words hang in the air, but those following few seconds of silence are broken by your laugh. Everyone looks at you, though you’re hardly bothered, and Tamaki would like to hide away. Was the club just out to embarrass him? At this rate, you might not take him seriously!

“Well, [Name], while the host club is closed for the day,” Kyoya states, “I think we have the space for one more.” He turns to Tamaki, brow raised expectantly.

Tamaki, even for all his nerves, thankfully catches on quickly. “Yes, of course!” Then he turns to you and your little grin, and he’s a snowman on a warm, sunny day. “That is, if you’d have me?”

Your grin grows. He’s melting at an exceptional rate. “I would.”

Kyoya ushers out the rest of the host club members, who smile and wave to you in greeting as they pass you on the way to the doors. As soon as they click shut, and the two of you are alone, Tamaki ushers you to one of the lone couches. Internally he’s sighing with relief that there’s no one else here anymore. Now the others can’t embarrass him further.

“We usually give every girl a rose, but I’m afraid we’re all out for the day. If you’d like some tea, however, I could make you a cup.”

You smile but politely refuse, not wanting him to go out of his way. They’d already clearly been prepared to leave when you got here, and you don’t want him to do extra work after you have also left. Tamaki nods, says All right, and his chest blooms with warmth at how considerate you are. We can just talk then.

He joins you on the couch, watching as you set your bag on the coffee table, and he compliments the color. “It looks cute on you.”

“Thanks,” you respond. “I did have a little guidance from someone.”

“Whoever it was guided you well,” Tamaki teases.

Your eyes twinkle, and he wants to go stargazing with you. “He did.”

Then you turn the tables on him, bringing back up the topic of him having mentioned you to his friends. He smiles sheepishly and confesses, more easily now that you’re alone, that yeah, he had. But I just couldn’t help it, he elaborates. I had the passing thought that you were pretty, but then I got closer, and we started talking, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Even now, you blow him away, and it doesn’t matter that you’re in the same floor-length yellow dress as all the other girls at Ouran. You wear it so well to begin with, but what you wear better than the rest, and what he cares the most about, is that smile. It has found a home on your beautiful face, and you’re the sunshine cascading over him in Biarritz and the cool ocean breeze and he is overwhelmed but in all the right ways.

He has no dramatics, no acting to exaggerate his feelings. In this moment, he isn’t host club Tamaki. He is raw and unfiltered, just Tamaki. And everything feels backwards, that he is the one who’s quiet and shy, and his skills at waxing lyrical, as though fed the words by the gods themselves, have gone out the window. He doesn’t want to mess up in front of you, to make a fool of himself, but as you duck slightly, to slide into view of his downturned gaze, a fond smile on your face, he thinks he must be doing something right.

“I went to a jewelry shop after I bought the bag,” you say. He’s looking at you now so you sit back up straight. “I saw a pair of amethyst earrings and it reminded me of you.”

“It did?” he breathes out, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and to be honest, he almost doesn’t.

You nod and hum. “They reminded me of your eyes. They’re the prettiest I’ve ever seen, you know. I couldn’t get them out of my head.”

His heart wrenches to learn he has been on your mind, and it almost hurts how hard it twists. Never once had he anticipated it might be the same for you, that your seemingly inconsequential conversation about what purse you should buy would stick with both of you. To the point that perhaps you too have been longing for the time to come when you saw him again, and you watched the sun rise and set and rise again, all the while longing rife in your little sighs as you wonder when that might be. He would have searched for you all the way to the end of the galaxy, and maybe, maybe, maybe, you would have done so for him too.

He slowly cracks a smile, cheeks reddening, and he doesn’t know what to say but you don’t need him to say anything as you giggle at his lack of response. You’ve not seen him in action in the host club, so you don’t have any reason to tease him for acting so uncharacteristic. To you, this is how he always is. But you’re fine with taking the lead as you ask him questions about the school and about the city, wanting to know more about your new home, and he is happy to answer and tell you stories, and even offers to show you around.

If he falls into the bottomless pools of your eyes he’d like to stay there forever. Do they feel as warm as they look? The more you two talk, the more Tamaki realizes that what charm you had pulled him in with, had entranced him wholly and utterly, had been just a taste of your true potential. You had much more in store, and he realizes he is no match for you. Not that he minds being the one to be swept off their feet.

By the time he walks you out to your car, pulled up to the front gates of the school grounds, which are much quieter now that everyone has left, you’ve made plans to go back downtown on the weekend. He pulls open the door for you.

“Don’t forget to stop by the club tomorrow!” he reminds you. “3:15 sharp!” You aren’t in the schedule for tomorrow, but Kyoya would make an exception. (If he didn’t, Tamaki would make him.)

“Sharp, yes, got it!” You give him a thumbs up. “I’ll see you, Tamaki!”

You tuck your hair behind your ears so you can see clearly when you slide into the backseat, and as you do, Tamaki catches a glimpse of the amethyst earrings you’re wearing. You don’t notice his smile, which stays there even after your car has driven off, even as he stands on the sidewalk and watches as it disappears around the corner. And he knows confidently that yes, you would have ventured to the edges of the galaxy to find him again too.

#ouran high school host club x reader #ouran high school host club imagine #tamaki suoh x reader #tamaki suoh imagine #ohshc x reader #ohshc imagine #ouran high school host club #tamaki suoh #ohshc #bubble-tea-bunny

2K notes · View notes

libsterslobsters · 4 years ago

Text

Celebration Day

Summary: Bucky and the Reader's long-awaited wedding day is just around the corner. The only trouble is, with Pepper Potts serving as wedding planner, it's a little more elaborate than either of them had imagined. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands and create your perfect out of what's around you.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced!Reader

(Reader sees bits and pieces of the future at random, understands all languages, and is also a super soldier)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Author's note: As always, the reader's name is never mentioned so that this can be read as a self-insert, but when I write this character, I imagine her as a Violet. Also, the song at the end of the fic can be anything you like, but I wrote it with Unforgettable by Nat King Cole in mind.

*************************************************

“Whoa.” Bucky doesn’t say anything, but as he takes in the huge stone building that, according to Pepper, they’ll be getting married at in two weeks’ time, he’s almost certain his eyes have gone as big as his fiancee’s. What the actual fuck? They could fit a small army inside this place.

“Is this the right place?” He’s half-way hoping she’ll say no, it was a big joke, but with a grimace, she nods.

“That is, if she sent us the right address. If not, it’s pretty remote here….” She trails off, biting at her lip.

“Does Pepper know that between the two of us, we can count the number of people we call friends on our fingers-”

“And the ones we’d actually want around to watch us make a life-long commitment to each other is even smaller? Yeah, I mentioned it.”

That’s what he was afraid of. Despite having been through some of the most intense situations known to man (fighting Thanos, anyone?), as he pulls the door closed behind him, his palm starts to sweat. Logically, he knew giving Pepper the go ahead to plan as she saw fit without any input from either of them (she did insist on footing the bill after all, so being particular would be ungrateful) meant that things would get more elaborate than he’d feel comfortable with, but this is completely out of hand.

“I’m starting to think that waiting until two weeks before the day of to take a look at things may have been a mistake.”

He chooses not to add his two cents to that (a fucking huge one, on both their parts). It turns out to be the right decision because, a huge bouquet of… are those lilies… in her hands, Pepper emerges from a side door.

“Good, you both found the place.” Yeah, it was kinda hard to miss. It’s a literal castle! “Isn’t it just beautiful?” The high-powered executive is gushing in a way that’s usually reserved for the first time seeing a great work of nature, like the Grand Canyon or possibly Niagara Falls. Not… whatever the hell this is.

“It’s very eye-catching.” The grip on his hand increases to where it’s almost painful, and he glances over at her. “Right?” In other words, don’t just stand there. Say something.

“Yeah. It’s…” Huge. Kind of reminds him of a medieval palace that would have a secret torture chamber down bellow. Decadent, but not in the “This is really great chocolate cake” kind of way. “...really something.” If that look is anything to judge from, he’s definitely in the dog house tonight… which, oddly enough, means the dog will probably spend the night cuddled up to her on his side of the bed.

Fortunately, Pepper seems not to have noticed that he’s less than enthusiastic about her choice of venue (either that, or she’s assumed that ‘vaguely unsociable’ is just his natural state), because she beams at the woman on his arm.

“Of course, it’ll look much different the day of. There will be floral arrangements in every window and…” She goes on, but he’s stopped listening, too busy trying to calculate how many people can fit in this auditorium alone.

“Any questions?” Pepper peers between both of them. He should really read the room and say no thanks, it all sounds great, but he actually is wondering about something.

“Yeah, I have one. What’s the final tally on the guest list looking like?”

“We’re standing at around 500.” 500… does he even know that many people? Scratch that; between the two of them, do THEY know that many people?

“Wow.” He glances at the woman next to him. Yeah, that’s a fake smile if he’s ever seen one. “That’s quite a turn-out.”

Pepper says something else, but he doesn’t hear it past the buzzing in his ears. It’s only when he feels a tug on his hand that he realizes they’re supposed to follow Stark’s widow out of the room.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, she turns to him, wearing a worried frown. “You okay there, Buck?”

He nods. “Yeah, but is it too late to go with your idea? Just go to the courthouse and sign a paper?”

She sighs, a rueful smile on her face. “I think that ship has sailed. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” She deserves the best, and if Pepper has anything to do with it, this wedding will be just that. He can deal with it. It’s just for a few hours, after all.

“Does this mean I get to pull out the ‘I told you so’?” It’s a joke, meant to lighten the mood. He knows this, so he takes the bait.

“Yeah, Doll. You get a free pass.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

“How’s it coming?” She’s honestly not sure how to answer Shuri’s question. In traditional “Say Yes To The Dress” fashion, her female friends are all gathered outside the dressing room doors waiting for her to step out in the gown Pepper had designed specifically for her. The only trouble is, she’s never felt more out-of-place in her life.

It’s a beautiful dress, highlighting every single positive aspect of her body. The shade of ivory works well with her skin tone, and the material is cool against her skin. She looks exactly like a picture from a bridal magazine with her hair still styled from a trial run of that and makeup earlier today. Perfect… but not like herself.

Shaking her head, she tells herself she’s just not used to looking so formal, and pushes open the door.

Wanda, Morgan, Nakia and Shuri make appropriate noises of approval as she steps into the room. Pepper is smiling, a hand pressed to her mouth and tears rolling down her face. Only Okoye looks less than pleased.

“You look so fierce.” Shuri informs her, rushing forward to adjust her train.

“A total knockout.” Nakia nods.

“You look like a doll!” She chuckles at the four-year-old’s exclamation. It’s very sweet, probably the best compliment she’s ever gotten. Plus, she’s starting to feel like a doll.

“Okoye?” The general eyes her up and down, expression unchanging.

“How are you planning to fight in that dress?”

Wanda and Pepper freeze, unsure of how to react, but Nakia laughs and Shuri rolls her eyes.

“It’s her wedding day, General. She isn’t fighting anyone.” Shuri exclaims between giggles.

“This is an American wedding. The most physical thing they do is dance.” Nakia adds.

“Until the wedding night, that is.” And now she’s trying not to snicker at the princess’s innuendo.

The rest of the appointment is a blur. A tailor checks and rechecks the measurements, pinning up whatever he deems too long or large, letting out anything too constricting. Girl talk ensues and the champagne flows. By the time they go their separate ways, each with a bridesmaid’s (or in Morgan’s case, flower girl) dress in their possession, she’s the only one who’s not at least slightly buzzed.

She should really head home. It’s late in the afternoon, and she’s still got papers to grade. However, she finds herself driving in the opposite direction of where she lives. After today, she needs some time to herself, away from anyone else and the possibility of unintentionally seeing their future.

At a red light, she stops and dictates a voice-to-text message, informing Barnes that, “It’s going to be a late one. Stopping by a few places on the way home. Let me know if you want me to pick up something.” The reply comes thirty seconds later. “Take your time. Text me when you’re on your way. Stay safe.” This wedding may not be exactly what she’d pick for herself, but the man she gets to spend the rest of her life alongside certainly is.

She drives aimlessly for a while, no destination in mind. Finally, she decides that while she’s out, she may as well kill two birds with one stone. Pepper mentioned that they’re still lacking the “something old” from ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue’. She considered joking that the groom is over a century old so they’ve got that covered, but as an antique store appears on her right, she decides to go in and see if anything catches her eye.

A bell rings as soon as she steps inside, and although she can’t see anyone, a voice calls out from the center of the store to, “Shout if you need anything.” It’s a hodgepodge of various items, most in disrepair, all covered in a blanket of dust. She comes across a coin in the display counter minted in 1917 and is about to ask if she can get a closer look at it (there’s something about a sixpence in a shoe if she’s remembering correctly), but that’s when she sees it.

The wedding dress is clearly vintage, more than likely an original. As she takes a closer look at the tag, she sees that it reads “hand sewn, 1942”. The price is marked $25 dollars, a good deal even if it were in disrepair. Instead, she can’t find a thing wrong with it. It’s almost as if someone unearthed this in the back of a closet, perfectly preserved, and thought, “Here’s a way to make a quick buck.” For a moment, she allows herself to dream of how she’d look in it, but as the salesperson appears, she pushes that daydream to the side.

“May I see the nickel from 1917, please?”

With one last longing look at the dress, she pays for her purchase, and leaves the store behind.

___________________________________________________________________________________

It’s not unusual for him to have nightmares. Most times, he can tell that what’s going on around him is a dream, not real life, and wake himself up. Not tonight, however. It all feels too real, not one of his usual dreamscapes, so that he’s stuck reliving a scene from earlier in the day.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Coming out of the pet store on his way home with a few bags of dog food (not to mention more toys than the mutt really needs because, despite himself, he’s a sucker for their tripod of a dog), he got recognized. There was the flash of a picture being taken to his right, and when he turned, a man holding a smartphone asked, “Hey, you’re that Winter Solder guy, aren’t you?” In reality, he pretended not to have heard and kept walking, and that was the end of it. In his dream, he’s driven all the way home, only to be cornered as he’s stepping out of his car and activated by HYDRA.

“Longing-”

“Stop.”

“-rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak-”

“Not again. Please.”

“-furnace. Nine. Benign-” As the HYDRA agent speaks, he realizes that she’s in the room with him. Oh no.

“Get out of here! Run!” He tries to warn her, but she just smiles at him, and although he can’t hear what she’s saying, he can see her lips forming the words, “I love you.”

“-One. Freight Car.”

“No!” He bolts upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. It’s only when the chill of the night air makes him shiver that he realizes it was just a dream.

“Whoa.” He’s still trying to catch his breath when he feels her hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay, Bucky. Take some deep breaths. That’s it.” He used to be embarrassed whenever this would happen, especially if he managed to wake her up in the process. But since Thanos, all of that has gone by the wayside, and it’s a common occurrence for her to wake up screaming and flailing also.

Practice makes perfect, so it’s only a few moments before his breathing returns to normal and he feels his heart regain it’s rhythm. He turns to her to apologize, but stops short.

“You were already awake.” She nods.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep. My mind’s too busy.”

“Busy with what?” As he asks it, he settled back into bed, turning on his side to face her.

“Are we just gonna ignore that you had a nightmare?” He nods

“For now, yeah. It’s still too fresh.” A look of understanding settles on her face. He’s eternally grateful that she’s not one to push him into talking before he’s ready.

“I can’t stop thinking about the fucking wedding.” He snickers at her profanity. “Five hundred people, Buck. Five hundred! I don’t even know that many people, much less like them.” It’s like she’s read his mind.

“All of them staring at us…” She shudders. “It’s silly, but what if I have a vision and instead of saying “I Do” I say, ‘Watch your head!’ or something else just as stupid?”

“Then you’ll be doing better than me.” Her brow furrows in confusion. “I keep having this recurring dream that we get around to the vows and I forget how to talk. Then I look down and realize I’m not wearing pants.” That reminds him… “You still haven’t told me how trying on the dress went.”

She sighs.

“It was an experience.” That can’t be good.

“Didn’t it fit?”

“Oh, it fit.” She nods. “Like a glove.” Then what’s the problem? “It’s a beautiful dress, and I really appreciate all the effort Pepper put into it, but…” Oh. Now he thinks he understands.

“It’s not quite what you imagined.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“No, but then again, I never imagined my wedding dress because I never imagined getting married.”

“But you still want to, right?” He shouldn’t ask that, but there’s a niggling fear at the back of his mind that she’s realized she doesn’t want to be stuck with him for the rest of their lives.

“Of course I do.” They’re facing each other, crumpled sheets between then, and she reaches out to caress his cheek. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Barnes, nightmare wedding or not.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the air vents circulating a cool breeze through the bedroom. Then she asks,

“Did you ever imagine it? A wedding or getting married?” It’s not something he’d easily admit to most people, but he nods.

“Yeah, I did. Back before the war.”

“Tell me about it.” She closes her eyes, and he can’t help but feel a slight wave of excitement that he gets to see her like this forever.

“It wasn’t like I spent a lot of time daydreaming about it, but…” It was just one of those natural things, a given in life; you get a job, find a girl, get married, and settle down to have a houseful of kids. When the war started, he saw so many of his friends go ahead and tie the knot with their girls before they shipped out, and he took it for granted that one day, he’d do the same thing.

“I guess I figured on having Steve there, standing up with me.” Of course, now Steve is an old man, physically as well as chronologically. He’ll be there of course. Even serve as the best man. However, it looks a little different than he imagined. “It’d probably be small, because we weren’t dirt poor, but we weren’t exactly rich either. Friends and family.” She nods, eyelids still lowered. “Didn’t put much thought into decorations or clothes, but I imagined walking out with her on my arm, whoever the girl ended up being-” Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined a woman as incredible as this. “-and dancing together after it, then heading back to our house, just the two of us.”

“It sounds-” She yawns, and he knows she’s nearly asleep. “-perfect.”

It does to him too, but over time, things change. Even if it sounds nice, a 1940’s shindig probably wouldn’t cut it in today’s busy world with it’s easy access to perfection. Still, a huge chunk of him wishes he could just steal her away and make their promises to each other in private. That makes him wonder: what did it look like when Steve and Peggy got hitched? He supposes he can ask soon enough. Steve’s arriving tomorrow after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You need any help in there?” Steve thinks about shooting back that he may be old (well, ancient is probably more accurate at this stage) but he can still manage to put on his pants without help, thanks. Instead he just answers,

“Nope. Just giving you a few extra minutes to primp before I come out and embarrass you by pulling off this suit better than you do.” As he pulls on his jacket, he hears Bucky laugh.

“Whatever you say, punk.”

He’s lived a full life, made plenty of other friends. However, he still hasn’t clicked the same way he does with the jerk from Brooklyn, even if said jerk is now seventy years younger than him.

“Alright, I’m done making myself pretty. Get out here, old man.” Chuckling, he pushes open the changing room door and joins Sam and Bucky.

“I don’t know what you two are bragging about.” Sam grins and straightens his tie. “Clearly I’m the best looking person here even without being hopped up on super soldier mojo.”

Bucky fakes a frown and elbows Sam.

“Remind me again why you’re invited to my wedding?”

“Because the bride likes me.”

“No accounting for taste.”

“Clearly, since she’s marrying you.”

Even though it’s obviously a joke, Steve internally winces. He’s already half-way expecting to talk Bucky down off the ledge at least three times in the next two days, convince him that yes you you are good enough for this girl, no I don’t think she’s making a mistake entrusting her future to you. Back in the day, he was the shy one with a lack of self-confidence. After everything HYDRA did, it’s his best friend who believes he’s unworthy of a second chance at life.

However, throughout most of the morning, there’s absolutely no sign of the impending breakdown. Steve’s nearly convinced that he’s guessed wrong, that there won’t be any fires to put out when, on the drive back to his hotel room, it happens.

“Can I ask you something?” He can’t really read his best friend’s facial expression since the other man is driving, facing straight ahead, but if the tension in body language is anything to judge from, this isn’t going to be a casual conversation.

“Sure.”

“Were you nervous before you and Peggy tied the knot?”

He nods.

“More like scared shitless.” It wasn’t the fact that, for the rest of their lives, they would be tied together, not just emotionally but legally as well. If anything, he was nearly giddy with excitement over that part. “All those people with their eyes on you and your dearly beloved? Don’t tell anyone, but five minutes before I had to be in place, I was in the bathroom losing my lunch.” Bucky snickers, and even he chuckles at the memory. “But I got through it because it was her. She was what I wanted at the end of the day. I would’ve gone through with it in front of a million people or in a broom closet. It didn’t matter. Everything except Peg was just trappings.”

Neither of them say anything else for the rest of the trip. On Steve’s part, he’s mentally reliving the day he married Peggy Carter through his memories. In fact, he’s so busy reminiscing that he doesn’t realize the car has stopped moving and they’re parked outside the hotel until his name is called for what must be at least the third time.

“Sorry.” He smiles apologetically. “It’s just a side affect of getting old: you spend a lot of time stuck in the past and forget about the present.”

“It’s okay.”

He reaches to open his door, but before he can-

“Do you have anything going this afternoon? Maybe need to take a nap or something?” This time, he doesn’t swallow down the sarcastic comment that springs to mind.

“Yeah, right after I finish rubbing liniment on my joints, I’m gonna go down to the old folks’ home and play bingo, maybe yell at some kids to get off my lawn. That is, unless you have something else in mind.”

“Well, I was gonna go interrupt my girl’s day and ask her if she’d go down to the courthouse and elope with me since we’re both dreading the trappings, but it sounds like you’re busy, so…”

It’ll smart later, but he tags the back of his best friend’s head.

“Go get your girl, jerk. Just tell me when and where to meet you.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a nap?”

“Respect your elders!”

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s elbow deep in clothing (when the hell did they acquire that many tshirts between them), attempting to make a dent in the number of things they still have to pack before next week’s move-in date, when she hears the apartment door open. That’s weird. He’s not supposed to be home until later in the day. It’s unnecessary, a reflex at this point, but she feels for the hidden knife she still keeps on her at nearly all times. It’s most likely not an intruder, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

The funny thing about living with someone is that the little things about them, details you never forced yourself to pay attention to, become ingrained in your memory without you realizing it. In this case, she recognizes the speed and heaviness of the footfalls, and that’s what makes her lower her guard.

“In the bedroom.” He hasn’t asked, but it’ll save him from looking through each room that comes before this one. And, if he’s home this early, they’ll probably have something to discuss.

“Hey.”

As she repeats the greeting back to him, she studies his expression. A smile, small but genuine. Also… nervous? That’s strange. She’s gotten good at reading the tiny tells that are still there behind the perfect, unflappable mask, but usually it takes her a lot longer to crack the code. Something major is going on.

“How’s the packing coming?” As he asks, he picks up a shirt (one of his, although it’s not folded) and tosses it into a box.

“It’s coming along fine. Do you want to talk about it some more or dive into why you’re home so early?”

“That depends. Do you already know what I’m gonna say?”

She shakes her head. No visions so far, at least not about this.

“Then I guess I’d better quit stalling.” That doesn’t sound good. “So, about the wedding.” For a moment, she’s worried he’s calling it off, that he’s decided he’d rather not spend the rest of his life with her. But if that were the case, wouldn’t he have mentioned it last night when they were both lying there unable to sleep, discussing things? “Is it safe to say we’re both dreading it? Not what comes after, but the part where five hundred of our closest friends stare at us?”

Her lips curl into a smirk.

“You could say that.”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe there’s a way to avoid it and still get the job done. Something more like what we talked about last night. You were awake for that part, right?”

Barely. In fact, she remembers her final thought before drifting off being, “I wish we could do things that way.” Still…

“Pepper’s put so much effort in. People are traveling, have already made arrangements-”

“So we still show up on Saturday, but behind the scenes, we would’ve already made things official. Maybe gone to the courthouse like you wanted to, just us and Steve? One other person if you had anyone in mind, since there need to be two witnesses?” It’s an appealing idea. The marriage license is still sitting on the kitchen table, waiting for them to sign on the day of. In theory, all they need to do is make an appointment and show up with their two witnesses. In practice…

“Hypothetically speaking, when would we be doing this?” Immediately, the small sign of nervousness melts from his face.

“This afternoon at four thirty, since that’s the only time before Saturday they had available. Hypothetically.”

She pretends to think about it, but can’t hide the smile that sneaks across her face.

“Then it’s a yes.” Now they’re both smiling like idiots. Taking his offered hand, she rights herself and circles her arms around his neck.

“So we’re really doing this, huh?” His arms wrap around her, and now they’re so close, she can feel his heart beating.

“Looks that way.” She leans up, closing the gap between them and presses her lips against his.

It’s tempting to just stand there, making out like teenagers, but eventually, she has to back away. It’s comical how startled he looks (that and slightly flustered).

“I’ve gotta get out of here.”

“What?”

She snickers. “I don’t know much about weddings, but I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to see me ahead of time. Bad luck and all.”

“Wouldn’t want to risk that.” With one last peck, he lets her go. “Do you want me to head out and give you the apartment, or-”

“No, you stay. I actually have some errands to run.” Not saying another word (otherwise, she’ll end up gushing about how she can’t to start their life together), she grabs her keys from the nightstand and heads towards the door.

Once she’s in the car, a memory from the other day of that 1940s wedding dress sitting in an antique store comes back to her. There wasn’t a size on the label, and the material might be too fragile for her to even get it on her body. But it was so… perfect. It’s decided: she’s going in search of it. If it fits her, yay! If it doesn’t work out, she’s still got enough time to stop in at a department store and purchase something else.

The whole thing is slightly absurd. She peals into the antique store and, after eyeballing the dress, purchases it without so much as trying it on. Then, stopping at a fast food place, she undresses in a bathroom stall and pulls on the dress. The material is slightly musty from all the years of disuse, but it goes on easily. As she peers at herself in the bathroom mirror, a giggle rises from deep inside her. For the first time in this whole process, she feels like a bride.

She’s still dressed in the vintage white gown when she steps inside the first florist’s shop she comes across The woman behind the counter gives her a strange look, but doesn’t ask any questions as she sells her the simple bouquet of violets with a few pieces of greenery. She knows she must look odd, but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s flying too high. Maybe that’s the reason why, as she puts the finishing touches on her makeup, still in her car, she tucks a few of the flowers into her hair. There. That’s better.

She spots his car in the parking lot, so she knows he’s already there. That’s when the nerves hit her. This is it. They’re actually doing this. After today they won’t just be to people sharing an apartment (among other things); they’ll be husband and wife. She’s ready. God, is she ready. But the enormity of it is intimidating. What if she’s not a good wife? What if he’s expecting her to be the perfect domestic goddess (that’s absurd, she knows, but rationality just flew out the window)? Or on a more practical level, what if he doesn’t like how she looks? There’s only one way to find out. Slowly, hands shaking, she pulls open the courthouse door.

Steve’s waiting for her just inside the building. Apparently, he takes traditions very seriously, because when she asks where Bucky is, he just shakes his head. “He’s here, but you’re not gonna see him until you’re in the room, about to sign the paperwork.” She’s not going to fight it (after all, she’s the one who brought up separating in the first place), but she does still have a question.

“Steve, can I ask you for a massive favor?”

“Sure.” Here it goes.

“I know there’s not a real aisle, but would you walk me inside?” He may be seventy years older than he was when she met him, but the smile is still the same.

“Yeah. I’d be honored to do it.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Bucky’s not sure what the connection is between being so nervous you’re ready to climb the walls and the urge to pace, but regardless, that’s what he’s doing. The clock in the office where he’ll be exchanging vows with the woman he loves more than he ever thought was possible reads four twenty-nine. One minute left, give or take. One minute, and then the rest of his life begins.

The seconds hand seems to move incredibly slowly, but finally, it reaches it’s destination. On cue, the door opens, and all the breath leaves his lungs. Here she is.

It’s not the way he’d imagined it as a kid. Steve’s not at his side. He’s considerably older, rougher around the edges. They’re in a courthouse instead of a church. But as a kid, he also didn’t imagine anything that can compare to her.

It goes without saying that she’s beautiful; that’s always the case. But all the old stories are true: there’s something about seeing her in a white dress walking towards him just before they promise to love, honor, and cherish each other for the rest of their lives that makes her shine like never before. She’s not just beautiful. She’s brilliant.

“Hey.” Right. He need to say something.

“Hey. You made it.”

She chuckles and pushes back a stray tendril.

“Yeah, well I had a date I was really excited for, so I rearranged my schedule.”

Before he can say anything else (he’s not sure what, because frankly, all thoughts except “I love you” have disappeared), the door opens and a man in a business suit sticks his head out.

“Is everyone here?”

He looks at her for confirmation.

“Everyone that needs to be.”

“Then right this way.”

He’s not aware of much that is said during the ceremony after they join hands, too busy memorizing what she looks like so he’ll never forget. This is definitely one of those moments you want to carry with you the rest of your life.

They stick to the standard vows. He takes her to be his lawfully wedded wife to have and hold from this day forward, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish ‘til death do them part, and vise versa. As he slips the ring on her finger, he catches her eye and mouths a silent, “I love you.”, which she repeats back as she slides on his wedding band.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” That’s it. This is real. They’re married. “You may kiss the bride.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

After the paperwork is signed, they agree to go and have dinner. Steve’s come all this way, and something seems right about celebrating with his oldest friend. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to make a reservation so, still dressed in their formal clothes, they slide into a corner booth at a local diner. Nothing important is said; it’s mostly laughter and inside jokes between a group of friends. By seven o’clock, he’s dropped Steve off at his hotel and is on his way back home.

The apartment is mostly packed up at this point. The only things left are their clothes, a few kitchen and bathroom essentials, and their bed. Even the record player she gave him as a birthday gift has been shipped off to the townhouse they’ll officially move into sometime next week. But, he thinks to himself as he lets himself in, the great thing about going to sleep in 1945 and waking up in the 2000s is that while his taste in music may not have evolved by much, technology has. Which means-

“Hey, stranger.” She’s still wearing the dress, their dog sitting next to her on the bed with his head in her lap. It would be a crime to let that go to waste.

“Come here.” He motions for her to join him, and as soon as she stands, starts scrolling through is phone.

“What are you doing?” The confusion melts from her face as the first few notes of the song fill the room.

Holding out his hand, he asks, “May I have this dance?”

A soft smile crosses her face as, nodding, she folds herself into his arms.

“You can have every dance.”

Two days from now, they’ll stand in front of five hundred people, most of whom they've never met before, and make their vows once again. It'll be uncomfortable and even a little jarring, but it won’t matter. Steve's right: it’s all trappings. What’s real is now; the beautiful woman in his arms, his wife, and the life they’ll build together. It’s not what Bucky imagined all those years ago as a naïve kid in Brooklyn. This is far better.

#marvel #avengers #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #captain america #fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #bucky fanfic

18 notes · View notes

wichols · 4 years ago

Note

May I request Hikaru for fluff “You know I have feelings for you, right?”

This ask has probably been sitting in my inbox for about a month. And it sat that long cause I wanted to give it the attention it deserved. The last fluff I wrote reeked of angst and I wanted this to be all fluff. And I can confidently say that this is indeed 100% fluff and 0% angst. I know some of you were really sad about my last post of HikaHaru (Disgust and Devotion). Let’s consider this an apology for writing that. Timeline speaking this would happen before Disgust and Devotion. Shout out to @amoreosalina for helping me get the right amount of Italian sprinkled throughout this one-shot!

Fashion and Feelings

Pairing: Hikaru x Haruhi Word Count: 2,700

“She should be here by now,” Hikaru grumbled, tossing his phone back onto the table. “What’s taking so long?” His fingers deftly pushed the needle through the delicate fabric, adding another bead onto the bodice. “Fangul. (fuck)”

Light poured through the large wall of windows of the studio while fluffy white clouds hung effortlessly against the clear blue sky. A plethora of immaculately dressed mannequins lined the wall of exposed brick, ready for a final inspection.

Turning his attention back to the lilac chiffon dress pooled atop the workbench he continued to mutter to himself. “It has to look perfect. She deserves my best work.” His hands moved with ease adding more beads and removing the last of the pins holding the pleats in place, doing his best to pour his all into his final piece- though this one is reserved for someone more special than a model.

Haruhi watched with bated breath as she leaned against the door frame, not having the heart to interrupt Hikaru from his work. Her eyes followed his hands as they diligently worked with the fabric. Though it was not often she was able to witness him working it was always a treat to see him come alive in the studio, his body trained for fashion excellence. The flight from Boston to Milan was exhausting but the prospect of a week away from school and reuniting with her friends was enough for her to push through her final assignments and her current exhaustion to enjoy what little time they had together.

Glancing one last time at the completed piece Hikaru sighed with contentment, allowing himself to smile widely at the finished dress. “Perfecto.”

“An awful lot of space for just one person. It never amazes me how much space you think you need.” Haruhi giggled from the doorway, finally catching Hikaru’s attention.

“You made it!” His childlike giddiness getting the better of him as he practically rushed over towards the door, lifting Haruhi up into a hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She wheezed under his hold, allowing her bag to drop carelessly to the ground. “How could I say no when you threatened to come to Boston yourself just to drag me here yourself?”

Releasing her from his hold, he placed her back onto solid ground before smirking. “We all know how one-track-minded you get with school, besides if it wasn’t me it would have been.”

“Tamaki.”

“Tamaki.” He watched her body shiver at the thought before she leaned down to retrieve her bag.

“Good point.” Shifting her weight to shoulder her bag she stepped further into the studio.

“Here, I can take that.” Hikaru gestured towards her bag.

Reluctantly she handed it over and followed him towards the work desk.

Depositing the bag on the bench, he cocked a brow back at her. “Is this all you brought?” He asked, looking between Haruhi and the bag.

“I have known you long enough Hikaru Hitachiin to know that you probably already have three suitcases stuffed full of things I will be forced into this week. So yes, my one bag is all I brought so that I have enough hands to drag whatever you have for me back home.”

“Bella, and just when I thought you couldn’t get any smarter, there you go again.” Smiling, he pointed towards the clothing rack against the wall filled with colorful patterns and miscellaneous sized boxes. “You caught me.” Anything for you, my love.

“You are only making more work for yourself when you do things like this. When did you even have time to pick all of this out?”

“You make time for the important things.” He sighed quietly as he watched her hold up a summer dress dotted with small flowers- that’s one of my favorites.

“What’d you say?” The light clinking and slide of the hangers filling the space between them.

“It wasn’t all me, you know as well as I do how mother feels about dressing up her favorite little doll.” He cooed before gliding his hand over the soft materials hanging at the end of the rack.

Skeptically she placed another cream colored blouse back onto the rack. “Right.”

It’s not like it was a total lie. His mother did pick out things but they were neatly folded and already placed into their own suitcase. This rack was all his doing, but he would never tell her that. “So what do you think?”

“It all looks nice but you know you guys know you don’t have to keep doing things like this just for me.”

“I know but we are just as stubborn as you are.”

“Thanks. And tell your mother thanks in case I miss her in the business of this weekend, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

Leaving the rack of clothing Haruhi walked back over to the workstation to admire the work she interrupted with her arrival. “This is really beautiful Hika.” Her hands glided across the fabric fluttering over the edge of the table. “Is this the last look?”

Hikaru felt his heartbeat quicken as he watched her admire his work. Without even knowing she had given him the affirmation he needed to unravel his heart to her. Walking up behind her he watched over her shoulder as she lightly held onto the chiffon. “Well, as much as I would like it to be, I’m afraid this one wasn’t meant for the runway.”

Haruhi glanced at the line of mannequins and back at the dress before looking over her shoulder confused. “What do you mean this isn’t the last look? It’s beautiful, it deserves to be seen by everyone.”

“Oh really?” He grinned back at her.

“Yes really.” Turning to face him she lightly pressed her finger into the center of his chest. “You don’t mean to tell me that you had extra time to make this and not put it into the show?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t have an extra body on hand to model this specific piece for the show.” He knew he was cornering her into an unsuspecting trap but he just couldn’t resist pushing her buttons- just a little bit more.

“You are Hikaru Hitachiin, eldest son to the Hitachiin brand! You mean to tell me that you couldn’t find even one person to come in and wear this?”

“Are you volunteering? Because if I recall, I am indeed Hikaru Hitachiin and I did happen to pay for someone to come and wear this piece.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to walk the show but I would be honored if you wore this and accompanied me down the carpet.”

“I can’t wear this! It was meant for someone with a totally different body type. I would practically be swimming in all this fabric.”

“Well if my last set of measurements for you are still accurate then you shouldn’t be unless you’ve decided to drastically change your body within the last six months.” He was practically giggling as he watched her come to the realization.

“My measurements?”

“Yes, dear, your measurements.”

Turning back around to face the dress she clutched her hands to her chest. “You made this for me?” Her head was swimming as her eyes examined the dress again.

“I couldn’t resist.” His hands twitched as he fought the urge to wrap them around her small frame and snuggle into her tousled hair. Her reaction made it nearly impossible to maintain what little self control he had left.

“You shouldn’t have.” Her voice felt so small in the openness of the studio. She felt her heart begin to betray her composed exterior.

“So is that a yes?”

Haruhi could hear the smile in his voice as he asked. “How am I supposed to say no?”

“If you want there are a few options hanging up on the rack if you would feel more comfortable in something else.” He didn’t want to reveal how his feelings cracked at the thought of her denying his gift as his eyes raked over the garments hanging across the room. “But I will say I will look pretty silly in what I made for myself if you pick something else.” Using humor to try and break the tension of his question. “And if you do decide to wear it I will need to see if I need to make any last minute changes.”

“I think it would be a travesty if no one but you and I were the only ones to see this.” She picked up the dress with care looking around the room. “Changing room?”

“You could always just get dressed in front of the mirror.” He snickered, wiggling his eyebrows back at her. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Har, har, har. Don’t you get enough time looking at half naked bodies?” She deadpanned back at him.

“If you insist.” He tisked, placing a hand at the small of her back he led her to the adjoining room with a partition placed near the corner. “You can change behind here and I can help you with the zipper once you are finished.”

Disappearing behind the partition Haruhi popped back out to wag her finger at him, giving him one final warning. “No peeking.”

“I promise.” Holding his hands up to placate the female’s warning.

Tossing the dress over the top of the partition Haruhi looked at the small box set on the bench placed against the wall. “Most people would be creeped out by someone other than a significant other who bought them lingerie.”

“If that were the case you wouldn’t have any underwear, though I am not opposed to that idea.” He watched her silhouette move behind the partition, letting his imagination wonder. “Can’t have you wearing that dress with just anything underneath, my mother would scold me the entire time on our trip back to Japan.”

Flipping open the box she exchanged her well worn undergarments for the newly purchased ones. “Nice choice,” she remarked at the blush colored lace.

“I thought you might approve. I have a whole other set left out with the other clothes so you have a fresh set this weekend.”

“And what per se are you going to do with my other clothes this time?”

“Well, the last time I burned them and you about choked the life out of me. I would rather not have a repeat of that particular event. Turns out being choked is not my thing.”

Haruhi couldn’t help but giggle at his admission. “Glad to see physical violence was the right choice to get my point across.” Slipping her arms through the off the shoulder sleeves and tightening her hold on the bodice she walked to the edge of the partition turning her back towards the open room. “Zipper please and no peeking.”

“Fine. Fine. No peeking. But it’s going to be kind of hard to find the zipper without my eyes. I might just have to feel around to find it.”

She felt his hands lightly trace down her exposed skin fumbling for the zipper. “We both know that you could do this blindfolded and with one hand.”

“You’re probably right but where’s the fun in that?” His hands gilded the zipper up with ease giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “All ready! Now out to the podium for inspection.”

The deep side slit fluttered open, revealing the smooth skin of her exposed leg, as she followed behind Hikaru back towards the main room of the studio. Taking her place on the podium she watched in the three panel mirror as he moved swiftly around the room flicking on switches and grabbing a pin cushion. The fullness of the gown pooled around her feet before she lifted it lightly allowing it to fall more naturally into its proper resting place. This might just be his best work yet.

“Faccia bella.” He could hear his heart practically pounding out of his chest as he finally allowed himself to look at Haruhi in all of her glory. Her skin glowed under the white lights of the box lights making her look like an ethereal fairy basking in the light of the moon. The dress clung to her body like a second skin, a nearly perfect fit.

“Hikaru?”

A quiet voice bringing him back into reality, eyes snapping to the woman staring at him in the mirror.

"What are you staring at? Is something wrong with the dress?" Glancing down at the gown, she twirled slowly to face him. “Is it not how you thought it would look on me?”

“What? No, its perfect.” The pincushion slipped from his hand, forgotten as he walked up to her.

“Oh good!” Stepping off the podium she did a small twirl. “It doesn’t need any alterations?”

“No alterations needed. You’re perfect.” His eyes shined brightly as he took her hand, placing a gentle kiss upon her knuckle.

Haruhi’s cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as she watched his eyes rake up and down her body. “I don’t want to upstage you at your own show.”

"No matter how long its been, you are still as oblivious as ever."

"What is that supposed to mean? Am I missing something?"

Grabbing her other hand he watched her eyes searching his. All self-control be damned. If he was going to unravel his heart he was going to do it right. Leaning in he watched her eyes for any signs of hesitation. His lips stopped just far enough away to feel her taking shallow breaths. "It has to be obvious now. You know I have feelings for you right? I mean come on Haruhi. I have been chasing after you the moment you walked into the club room. No matter how far apart we are I can't get you out of my mind. The only thing I ever think about is you."

Haruhi’s eyes flicked between his lips and his golden eyes. What is he waiting for? “Hikaru?”

Bending down ever so slightly he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers. It was everything he ever wanted. Just a moment. Just one moment. All he had wanted for the past three years was for her to know exactly how he felt. And now here she was in Milan with him, wearing a dress inspired by her, and kissing him. It was pure and wonderful. “Woah.”

“Woah,” she responded back breathlessly.

Releasing her hands he brought his up to cradle her face, caressing the softness of her cheeks before pulling her in for another kiss. If this was going to be the only and last time he would be able to kiss her he was going to make the most of it.

She found herself responding to his kiss, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his back pulling him closer, deepening their kiss. Perhaps between school and work, she had found herself thinking of him too.

After a few more moments of pure bliss, he found himself giving her one final kiss before pressing his forehead against hers. He couldn’t help but smile as he tried to catch his breath. “Sorry, I just couldn’t go another moment without you knowing my feelings and after seeing you in the dress my heart was going to explode if I kept it in any longer.”

“Maybe I am a bit too oblivious for my own good sometimes.” Haruhi chuckled nervously.

Laughter bubbled up from his chest as he wrapped her up in a hug. “You don’t say?”

“A little.”

“I’ll take your kissing me back as a sign of your agreement to be my girlfriend. Do you agree to the terms?”

“And just what kind of terms are we dealing with with your proposed agreement?”

“Future lawyer-like as always. Well I guess it would be what we are doing now plus you get the benefit of now having a significant other who is really good at picking out lingerie. Deal?”

“Hmm, deal.”

“Does this mean I am allowed to peek now?”

“Just because I am your girlfriend now does not mean that my no peeking rule is redacted. Instead of acting like a respectable profession you now have to act as a respectable boyfriend.”

“ Merda (shit).”

#hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #Hikaru x Haruhi #OHSHC #ohshc fic #ohshc fanfiction

68 notes · View notes

baldwin-montclair · 4 years ago

Text

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 16)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY with some S2, Shadow of Night and Book of Life.

Summary: With Baldwin hunting an intruder around the environs of Sept Tours, Alisha spends time with her tenants, step-daughter and the various creatures at Sept Tours.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary @hofficoffi @stormyheart326 @simplytimeless @wonderlander594 @madamquacklemore @thereadersmuse @livia-valerie-rown1793 @kynthiamoon @she-who-is-named-katie @ordinarymom1 @fuzzyflowervoid @raspberrypierocketeer @maybelightning @lady-lazarus-declermont

The Story So Far

———

Alisha changed quickly, the long dress no longer seeming appropriate for the situation.

Instead, she pulled on some jeans, a vest top and a warm sweater, hoping to quell the chill settling into her bones. She also exchanged her heels for some ballet flats.

The roaring fires and many guests downstairs did nothing to banish that same chill.

“Three ways in,” Marcus was giving orders to his Knights as a very attractive man approached her.

“Madame de Clermont,” he gave a slight bow, “not the best time for introduction but I suppose it is out of my hands. Fernando Gonçalves.”

“It is nice to meet you, even under the circumstances,” she looked around, “I have to apologise, I’m still getting caught up on my in-laws, I’m sure Baldwin mentioned you-“

“You’re sweet to say but he most likely didn’t. I’m not a de Clermont, not by blood anyway.”

“Oh,” she pondered before realising, “so, you’re mated to one, like me?”

“Yes, my darling Hugh, rest his soul.”

Alisha nodded solemnly.

“From what Baldwin’s told me, he was very special, and loved by a lot of people. I wish I’d had the chance to meet him.”

“As do I.”

“Fernando,” Marcus called, “first watch south door.”

“Yes Seigneur.” Fernando called to Marcus and gave Alisha a respectful bow before attending to his duties.

“You changed clothes.” Ysabeau commented with a hint of disapproval.

“Restrictive dress, high heels, not good in a crisis.”

“You will be nowhere near any sort of action, I guarantee it!”

“Maybe not but I want to help the people here and it’s much easier to do so like this.”

“What is your directive, Madame?”

Ysabeau asked the question but it was far from a request for orders and more a test.

“Alright,” Alisha nodded, thinking, “We have a wedding feast already prepared, lets skip the fancy table settings, get everyone together around the table and fed, at least then they’ll be in the same place and accounted for.”

“It’s what I would do, which is why I have already arranged it,” Ysabeau gave her an approving glance.

“And the boy who lost his father, his mother, where are they?”

“In the sitting room.”

“They probably won’t feel much like eating but they should still have something, just in case.”

“I agree,” Ysabeau gave a curt nod, “which is why you will bring them some food, talk to them.”

“Me?”

“You are Madame de Clermont-“

“Not to them, they know you and they trust you. Those people have lost someone they love, it’s not the time to subject them to me and my training wheels. I don’t have your way with people.”

“You don’t, that is true. But, they already have one of me, they do not need a copy. Besides, you too have known loss recently, be you, be honest and connect with them.”

Alisha nodded, reluctant, but resigned.

“I’ll need a translator.”

“Your tenants are extremely well educated,” Ysabeau answered with a hint of offence, “they will understand you.”

“Alright, I’ll go see what the kitchen-“ Alisha stopped when Marthe approached with two plates and holding a bottle of wine under her arm.

“No need.” Ysabeau stated.

———

As their tracker, Baldwin, backed up by Verin, took to hunting the killer from the site of his crime. Gallowglass and Stasia secured the perimeter to ensure there were no potential problems.

Freyja was charged with control of the immediate environs of Sept-Tours.

Baldwin was easily the strongest in the family but never the fastest, which is why Verin was taken aback when he sped from her, towards something he sensed that she did not.

By the time she made it to his side, the offending vampire was on his knees, snarling and struggling with Baldwin’s arm around his neck.

“He’s infected by the rage,” Verin stated plainly, the black appearance of his eyes betraying his affliction.

Baldwin sank his teeth into the creature’s throat, searching through it’s memories.

He saw the murder of his tenant, some deer and a sheep but nothing beyond.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Verin admonished when Baldwin dropped the vampire on the ground.

“What is it?” Gallowglass asked as he joined them in the clearing.

“We know nothing about the disease or how it spreads and you fed on someone that you know had it?” Verin was yelling but Baldwin didn’t say a word, instead, he walked to the small stream to wash the blood from his hands and face.

“I can sense your wife,” Stasia stated plainly.

“Aye, but there’s no way granny’s letting her leave, nor would she even make it out this far.” Gallowglass answered with a frown.

“And it’s not just from you,” Verin told Baldwin as she stood over the dead creature’s body and noted a strip of material tied around the arm, “it’s coming from th-“

Baldwin’s hand was on her wrist before she could touch the fabric.

Instinctively, she growled but the deeper, more commanding one she received made her bow her head slightly, breaking the eye contact, retracting the challenge.

Baldwin released her and she stepped back, away from him.

“What is that?” Gallowglass asked when the tense moment subsided.

“It’s Alisha’s but she brought no clothes from New York, I purchased a new wardrobe for her. Whoever sent me this message was in her home.”

“You fed on him, did it not tell you anything?” Verin pushed.

“Just the shepherd, some animals, everything before that is blank.”

“Could that be a temporary side effect of the rage?”

“Or magic,” Stasia suggested.

“Possibly,” Baldwin shook his head, none of what he was sensing made sense, “and since I do not know this dead creature, I assume he is not the person sending me this message.”

“He was mad with the sickness, most likely turned and set loose.” Verin added.

“If we were to create a list of potential grudges we would be here a while!” Stasia retorted.

“None of those are particularly new,” Verin reminded, “we need to ask ourselves why now?”

“I assume you have a theory on that, sister?” Baldwin’s words dripped with warning.

“Not one I’m inclined to share.”

“Wise decision,” he turned back to the dead creature, “we can ponder the possibilities once we secure the borders and make sure he was alone.”

“Whoever dropped him here, they could be on a different continent by now.” Gallowglass pointed out.

“Trust me, there isn’t a piece of land on this earth that’s safe for them.” Baldwin assured.

“Well this one is neutralised. At least you can return to your wedding evening.”

Baldwin shook his head.

“We’re not nearly done. Every inch of this place must be secure.”

“How?”

“Four quadrants,” he decided.

“That was a game,” Verin rolled her eyes, “one of father’s misguided attempts at fostering family unity.”

“I’ll take the first quadrant,” Baldwin ignored her protests, “Gallowglass two, Stasia three and Verin Four.”

“I suppose I asked for that.” Verin complained at the seasonal muddiness of that section.

“Not at all,” he determined, “we do this four times, by the end, we will each have searched every quadrant so that if one misses something the others won’t.”

“Thorough.” Gallowglass agreed.

“Excessively,” Stasia added, prompting a glare from Baldwin.

“We have tenants, guests and family here,” he corrected, “even this measure does not completely reassure me.”

“We must first dispose of this poor creature.” Gallowglass suggested, trying to break the tension.

“The furnace.” Baldwin responded without a thought.

“That’s for animal remains.” Gallowglass answered quickly.

“He killed a tenant for no reason, what is that other than an animal?”

“A pawn, a victim, you can’t-“ Gallowglass grabbed Baldwin’s arm when the older vampire turned to leave but quickly found himself face down on the forest floor with Baldwin’s knee on his back and the other trapping his arm.

“This is not a democratic process and I do not know what fanciful notions any of you may be entertaining, but my marriage has no bearing on how I intend to lead this family. Any comments?”

Verin had many, it was obvious from her expression. Still, he did not begrudge her thinking them so long as she was not careless enough to voice them.

“Good,” Baldwin stood and offered an arm to help Gallowglass to his feet, which he accepted, “Verin and Stasia will get started on their areas, we will dispose of the body.”

Gallowglass voiced no objection a second time.

———

Alisha?” Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her from the silent reverie she shared with the fatherless farm boy.

His mother was still asleep as she sat holding his hand in comfort.

“Marcus,” she excused herself for a moment, letting him lead her from the boy to the window, “is everything okay?”

“They’re doing the final sweep now.”

“Did they catch the killer?”

“It was never about catching him, you realise that?” He reasoned and she nodded in solemn understanding.

“Did they stop him?”

“They did,” he answered carefully, regarding her with concern, “are you alright?”

“I’ll be better when they come back, and really,” she glanced at the bereaved family, “nobody has suffered more than they have.”

“I’ll stay with them.”

Marcus greeted the boy with familiarity, they clearly knew one another and she left them to talk.

By the time she rejoined the gathered guests, all talking amongst themselves, quietly at first, then louder until recriminations and accusations were passing between them.

“Miyako,” Alisha was grateful at seeing the familiar face, “they’re scared and confused, where’s Ysabeau?”

“On the ramparts with the witches, she told me to fetch you this.”

Miyako handed Alisha the violin case, the one left in Baldwin’s tower. As his daughter, she obviously had access to it.

“What is this?” Alisha looked at the sheet music Miyako handed her with the violin.

“I have no idea,” the vampire shrugged, “it was on top of the instrument, I assumed you placed it there as a choice.”

Alisha shook her head with a smile, either Marthe or one of the de Clermont’s other servants could have subtly left it whilst cleaning, a request.

“Do you require accompaniment?” Miyako asked.

“You would...play with me?”

Miyako looked momentarily offended.

“Grandfather was very strict about our learning music, he believed it instilled discipline and patience. I may not have your instinct but I can play several instruments more than moderately well.”

Alisha smiled widely, tamping down the urge to hug the other woman, partly to make it easier to hide the tears of heightened emotion pricking the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t doubt that, and I meant no offence, I’d be honoured to play music with you.”

Miyako nodded and took her hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“I know Grandfather had a cello here somewhere but I’ve been unable to find it. I suppose I will have to play second with the viola.”

Alisha followed after until a thought occurred to her.

“Wait,” she stopped, “what instruments does Baldwin play?”

Miyako shook her head and kept walking.

“That is his secret to tell!”

———

“Quadrant clear!” Stasia reported with palpable irritation after meeting up with her other siblings, all finished and waiting.

“It would have been much easier without the heels!” Gallowglass teased.

“Then the search is complete,” Baldwin confirmed before Stadia could respond to her Nephew, “but now the hunt begins.”

“Do you intend to hunt down those responsible tonight?”

“No,” he glanced in the direction of home, “but be assured that you will each be notified when I decide on the action that is to be taken and you will share nothing more than the fact that we stopped the culprit. I won’t worry Alisha unnecessarily, not until I know more.”

“A bit early in the marriage to be keeping secrets.” Verin poked.

“I could say the same to you in reverse, does Ernst know all of your secrets?”

Verin fumed in silence.

“I thought not,” he turned back to Gallowglass, “go back to Sept Tours and bring my wife to the Chateau, we will be spending the next two days there.”

“And what of us, are we to remain at Sept Tours, awaiting your command?” Verin asked spikily.

“No, you can leave whenever it pleases you sister.”

———

Backlit by candles, Alisa Montclair performed for her husband, the same music she played when she first felt his presence.

This time, however, instead of sensing his gaze in a crowded concert hall, he was propped up against the pillows in their bed wearing just his dark pyjama bottoms. She stood illuminated at the foot of the bed through the thin gauze of the four post bed it was a much more intimate setting than a crowded concert hall.

Wearing just an ivory coloured and very thin silk slip, she was very much aware that he could see so much more than a human could, the candles highlighting her every curve in the silhouette of the candles.

Never had playing been such an erotic experience for her.

When the song ended, she performed a curtesy in response to his soft clapping.

“That was beautiful my darling, thank you,” his voice was thick with emotion and desire.

“You are very welcome, my Lord,” she put the instrument away and approached the side of the bed, “if it pleases you, it pleases me.”

She crept towards him and straddled his lap.

“You please me,” he sighed in contentment, “and not just because you’re beautiful and talented. You demonstrated tonight that you are ready to assume the responsibility that comes with being Madame De Clermont, as well as Mrs Montclair. I understand you played for our guests as well, accompanied by Miyako.”

“Who told you?”

He lifted his phone from the bedside.

“Don’t worry, I only wanted to show you this. You can be rest assured I will be switching it off for the duration of our time here together.”

She settled into a seated position between his strong thighs, his chest reminded a cool marble statue, immovable.

He lightly rested his chin against her shoulder and pulled up the video on his device.

It was of her and her step-daughter, playing together as the crowd was silent.

“Who took this?”

“Marcus, he sent it to me, I’m sorry I missed it, you play so well together” he mused, lightly kissing her shoulder and continued up her neck.

“She’s very talented,” Alisha grinned in memory of Miyako’s revelation, “so what instruments do you play?”

He sighed in resignation, switching the phone off and placing it back as promised.

“Piano, Harpsichord, Organ-“

He was cut off by her burst of giggles.

“Organ?”

“Yes, why is that so funny?” He smiled, happy to hear her laugh.

“No reason,” she shook her head.

He growled a little, but she could easily read it as a playful, exasperated expression.

“Alisha,” the stern tone that drove her wild was back as he lightly nipped at her neck with his teeth before soothing the area with gentle suction.

“It’s just,” she gasped at the sensations he was firing within her, “you already enter a room like there should be organ music playing in the background, I didn’t realise you could compose your own theme song.”

His chuckle was low and she felt the deep rumble of it in his chest.

“Are you calling me dramatic?” He murmured quietly against her ear.

“Big yes,” she nodded, involuntary shifting in her position due to his uncanny ability to make her laugh and turn her on at the same time.

A slight groan erupted from his lips as she realised that her fidgeting was having a direct effect on his own arousal, judging by the sudden bulge growing against her tailbone.

“What else?” She asked, armed with this new knowledge she targeted her innocent squirming to very slight and easily denied stimulation.

“What else what?” He asked in confusion, his breath a little more stilted than before.

“What else do you play?”

He didn’t immediately answer but the reason for that was clearly the diverted blood denied to his brain to feed a hungrier organ.

Just as sudden, his hands on her hips instantly stilled her movements. She took in a sharp breath, realising just how much self-control her husband had.

“I can play one more instrument,” he started, clarity returning to his words, as one of his hands drifted up from her side to ghost up her chest and clasp her breast through the thin material, radiating his granite coolness on the sensitive area.

“W-what’s that?” She asked, her ability to move and tease him hampered by his arm braced across her torso.

“Guess,” he teased, his finger tracing circles around her puckered nipple as he continued to nip and lick at the skin on her throat.

She realised too late the Venus trap she had fallen into and now she was under his complete control, her body practically bared to his whim.

The slight inhale from Baldwin told her he had sensed the wave of arousal that washed over her upon realising her predicament.

“Um, flute?” She whimpered.

“No,” he answered gently as his free hand settled on the inside of her thigh.

“Is it a wind instrument of any type?”

“Cold.”

“Percussion?

“Colder.”

“Reed?”

“Arctic,” he grinned, his hand gently and slowly inching its way up to its target and building anticipation as it went.

“There aren’t any more.” She argued, with a shudder of excitement as he neared his target.

“You’re forgetting the most obvious one.” He directed her vision to the violin case with his hand, loosely around her neck.

“Strings?” She gasped.

“That is the one you forgot but this instrument is so rare it belongs in no classification. The music she makes when you touch her just right...”

The slight mewling gasp she let out upon his fingers tiptoeing lightly over her panties made him smile.

She understood his meaning instantly, he could play her as well, if not better, than she could play her own violin, and he did, his fingers diving, dipping and playing her body like an expert musician stopping only to relieve her of the slip.

“I want you see you, all of you, take them off,” he ordered, “and lie down.”

His tone had the edge of command and it made her desire stronger.

She shimmied her way out of the underwear and lay on her side beside him, trying - and failing - to look sultry.

“I have seen you naked already sweetheart, why so shy now?” He teased, making her blush more pronounced.

“Because you were also naked,” she retorted, “and you were too occupied to study me.”

“Do you think I haven’t already committed your every peak and valley to mind,” he ran his hand down her waist and over her hip, “I have, I wager I could draw from memory your every freckle, especially this one.” His hand rested on her buttock and he pulled her to lie on her stomach.

She felt the slight playful nip of his teeth on the flesh under where his hand had rested.

“Baldwin!” She squealed in between giggles.

“Apologies,” he kissed the spot and continued placing light kisses up her spine, “so plump and inviting I couldn’t resist.”

“Hmm, charmer,” she accused, folding her hands beneath her head and glancing back at him.

In the candlelight, the rich copper tones of his hair were more obvious and the style was less strictly managed and more wild than usual. Between that and the darkness of his eyes, he was a vision of feral beauty, equal parts terrifying and magnificent.

“I‘m not as fragile as you think, you do know that?” She asked, hoping he understood her meaning.

“Vampires play rough sweetheart.” He warned, placing a tender kiss between her shoulders.

“I trust you,” she turned and captured his lips with hers.

He hastily joined her in complete undress and immediately she was enclosed in soothing coolness. It was a welcome contrast to her passion inflamed skin yet did nothing to quell her desire.

She yielded easily to his claiming of her, this time, however, the fit was more challenging on account of their position and she gasped at his fullness within her.

“Do you need me to stop?” He asked and she shook her head emphatically.

“Don’t you dare!” She moaned.

Accepting her answer, he slid his hand down between the mattress and her body, slowly building her arousal as he gradually increased his tempo.

Alisha was lost in a myriad of ecstatic sensations, between the spot within her that he somehow manage to reach every thrust to his ministrations upon her clit.

When he enclosed her throat in his hand to better access her scent, he felt her breath catch as his senses picked up a wave of pheromones from her that urged him forward. A subtle change in her scent intrigued him, something beyond her sweet apricot aroma. It was both unknown yet familiar at the same time.

“Baldwin,” she moaned, the very sound seeming to him more holy than any sermon or choir he had ever heard.

She was almost at her end, he judged from the way she tightened around him. He too would not be long after.

“You are bound to my will, remember?” He murmured low against her ear.

“Always!” She turned to look at him and he kissed her deeply, feeling her melt into him.

“My will,” he answered, “is to feel you come apart in my arms, can you do that for me?”

She nodded mutely as he kissed her neck, nibbled playful at her earlobe.

“Oh God,” she gasped, signalling how close she was to the edge.

“That’s it,” he coaxed gently, “just give in, I have you.”

Her movement was extremely restricted and yet, she felt unbridled, free and for the first time in a long time, safe.

Baldwin held her tight to him throughout her climax.

“You changed my life.” He kissed her temple with tenderness of which no-one could imagine him capable, and took his own pleasure.

After several seconds of quiet contemplation, he withdrew from her and rolled over onto his back. She was the first to let loose a satisfied sigh.

“So, I changed your life?” She grinned, moving to rest her head on Baldwin’s shoulder as her hand closed over his heart, still beating faster than his usual vampire rate.

He chuckled lightly.

“You never fail to surprise and impress me little nightingale.”

“To be fair, you did most of the work, next time I get to ride you like the stallion you are.”

“Noted,” he peered down at her, tucking her hair behind her ear, “and I meant your studies.”

“Huh?”

“Mi hai cambiato la vita,” he grinned, closing his eyes, “you don’t have to be modest, your grasp of Italian is commendable, and yes, you have changed my life.”

The drop in her stomach was made more pronounced by the way his relaxed posture grew more rigid. She realised that he hadn’t spoken the words in English and she had been too out of it to differentiate.

“Alisha,” he sat up, bringing her with him, “vampire’s are programmed to sense panic, it’s how we identify prey. What did I say that upset you?”

She averted her gaze, no words came to mind.

He framed her face in his hands, giving her no choice but to look at him.

“Alisha, tell me what’s wrong!” His tone was calm, gentle even, yet she knew he was not leaving this without an answer and with his senses, a lie was not an option.

She had to concede that the choice was made for her.

“Baldwin, there’s...” she took a deep breath, “there’s something you should probably know.”

——

PART 17

#adow #a discovery of witches #adow baldwin #adow baldwin fic #baldwin’s nightingale #adow fic

37 notes · View notes