#violently may i add. my ribs still feel. sore

[mxwhore]

bit sad beginning of the year ngl

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

hey there! If you’re interested in writing it, could you write something about Taichi dealing with asthma and having the support of Shirabu / the rest of the Shiratorizawa team? Either platonic or romantic is fine—and only if you’re interested in this prompt at all, of course! Thanks so much for generously accepting requests, and I hope you have a great day :)

Hello there!! Poor Kawanishi, I feel bad for hurting him a second time hahah... I hope you have a great day too!!

TW: asthma attack.

1.2k words, Gen.

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"Hey there, you doing okay?" 

Kawanishi nods, coughing into his elbow, cheeks flushed as he tries to soothe the itch in hia throat, to no avail. Shirabu doesn't look quite convinced.

"Did you catch a cold, Tai?"

"N-no." he manages, and coughs again, "S'probably the dust."

"Ah. Are you allergic?"

"I'mー"

The captain yelling at them to start running cuts Kawanishi off. He sighs, and starts running, pace slow but sustained. 

The boy is fully acquainted with the symptoms he's experiencing, but he doesn't want to alarm anyone. After all, two of his classmates have fallen sick with colds in the past week, so Kawanishi is not entirely convinced that the cause of his discomfort must necessarily be asthma.

He's been asthmatic since birth, but after years spent inhaling corticosteroids and being dragged to the beach whenever his parents had a free weekend, his doctor had decided that he was fit to practice sports, provided that he'd always carry an emergency quick-relief inhaler with him.

And Kawanishi does, to this day, have his. It's in the back pocket of his backpack, new and functioning, ready to be used. The young player only uses it occasionally, maybe once a week, when the train is cramped and the air is thin and, most importantly, when his teammates are out of sight.

It's not that Kawanishi is ashamed of his asthma, per se. He just doesn't want anyone to know. Coach Washijou probably knows, and so does Coach Saitou, since they both have access to his medical files for safety reasons. Still, none of them are present today, so Kawanishi prays that he'll make it to the end of practice without further incidents.

Which, of course, isn't the case.

He's been running for about three minutes when his vision begins to swim and grey, head pounding, lungs tight. He stops.

Fuck. Okay. Calm down, Taichi. Stay calm, man.

His hands shake, fingertips blue, coldー he's learnt to recognize the symptoms, he's been trained to. Kawanishi's ears seem to have gone deaf, the only sound he can hear being the incessant, increasingly-fast hammering of his heart.

He can't breathe. Shit, he can't breathe.

Distantly, he hears some kind of muttering, drowned out and foreign. His head pounds, light, and he doesn't even feel it as his body plummets to the ground, his back taking the brunt of the fall as something prevents his head from smacking against the floor. Not that he realises that.

"...ichi, Taichi, hey! Taichi!" someone above him shrills and oh, only now Kawanishi realises that he's lying down. Which is absolutely terrible.

Someone quickly drags him into a sitting position, and Kawanishi briefly wonders if there's a mind-reader among the team.

Tendou. It must be Tendou. It's always Tendou. Definitely Tendou.

"...mbulance?"

"I don't know, heー"

And Kawanishi recognises that voice. "K-Kenjirou?" he wheezes, blind eyes trying to make out the shape of his friend.

"Yeah, it's me." he says, and Kawanishi swears he can perceive a hint of relief in his voice. "What's happening? Can you talk to me?"

And he wishes he could, but he can't. He coughs, punctuating that thought. His lungs burn, starved, and his throat is surely bleeding by now, copper filling his mouth, sour on his taste buds. He coughs and sputters, weak, eyes bloodshot and watery. 

Panic seizes at his chest, already too tight, and suddenly he's on a whole new level of oxygen-starvation. He pants, blinking the tears away, his wrapped index finger frantically pointing in the vague direction of the locker room.

"Ambulance will be here in five!! They said to ask him if he has asthma, they think that may be it!!" 

God bless you, Goshiki. Eternal joy and fortune to you.

Kawanishi nods fast, still coughing and wheezing, and his arm lowers inevitably. His body feels heavy, lungs filled with lead, throat burning and oozing crimson. 

Dark-grey eyes inexorably start to close, eyelids fluttering, consciousness slipping away. That is, before a pair of strong hands grips at Kawanishi's shoulders and shakes him awake, abruptly, insistently.

"No no no, don't pass out, idiot." Shirabu hisses, worry seeping through his words, "Hey! Do you have an inhaler here? Taichi! Yes or no? Do you have it!?"

Kawanishi groans, coughing. He opens his mouth, the air he inhales harsh against his sore throat.

He coughs again. "B-backpack..."

"Backpackー backpack!! Get his backpack, quick!!" Shirabu barks, and Kawanishi manages to spot an unusually frantic Ushjima sprinting towards the lockers. If he had any strength left, he'd smile.

It's not even twenty seconds later, spent sputtering and gasping for oxygen, that Ushijima rushes back inside the gym, skidding against the floor as he empties the contents of his friend's bag. Shirabu, against whom Kawanishi is propped up currently, extends a hand and starts to search the pockets.

His face lights up as he feels the object, quick to extract it from the pocket and press it against Kawanishi's mouth.

"There you go, come on."

It's not that easy, actually. Kawanishi wishes people knew.

But he tries. He tries and fails once, twice, three times, before he manages a shallow inhale that leaves him reeling, the sudden rush of oxygen making his head spin, dizzy. 

"One more time." Shirabu instructs.

"You're going to be okay." Ushijima adds, calm façade crumbling slightly.

Tendou nods in agreement. "Yeah, you got this, buddy!!" he says, squeezing his knee.

Kawanishi tries to ignore the fact that his teammates are gathered around him like vultures waiting for a prey to exhale its last breath.

Ironic imagery, he thinks, mildly amused.

He breathes the medication in, lungs opening ever so slightly, letting more sweet air rush into them, his muscles relaxing at the welcomed presence.

The boy isn't sure how, but Shirabu manages to send everyone but Ushijima away, out of the gym, with a silent stare. He admires the man, that's for sure.

"You idiot." 

Okay, he wasn't expecting it. "Wh-wha'?"

"You. Idiot. Why did you think that keeping your asthma a secret would be a good idea? Thanks for the trauma, man."

"S'rry. S'my files."

"I don't have access to those, idiot!!" Shirabu seethes, "Next time, I'm letting you die."

"Didn't ya wa-want toー" he wheezes, "to become a doctor or s'mething?"

"Yeah, but I'm not your doctor."

"You sh-should cure everyone."

"Not you. You're on my blacklist!!"

Kawanishi laughs at that, regretting the action when his head spins and his ribs shift. 

Ushijima stays silent, but his presence is reassuring, calming, grounding. That's why Shirabu had wanted him to stay, Kawanishi thinks.

"Dun need a' ambulance. M'okay." he says, weak, voice rasped and thick.

Shirabu frowns, unamused. "Too bad. You're letting the EMTs check you over and if they say you need a hospital, you are going. Or I will make you."

"G-geez, so vi-v-violent..." he grins.

The other does, too, after a second. Ushijima even cracks a tiny, crooked smile, but it lasts too little for Kawanishi to decide if it's real, or just a vision courtesy of his blurry eyes.

Soon enough, there's sirens blaring in the background, and EMTs rushing through the door. 

Kawanishi, to be fair, isn't a fan. But his friend's hand in his as he's loaded onto the stretcher is enough for him to finally take a deep breath.

ーーー

Hope you liked this!!! Let me know. As usual, please anon, warn me if you have an ao3 acc and wish for this fic to be gifted to you there.

September 4, 2021.

[wallwriterstuff]

Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future. 

The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK. 

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/ 

I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post. 

Words: 3116

Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions?  Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.

Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On 

Part 3: These Violent Delights 

It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.

His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.

Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.

“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.

“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.

Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.

You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.

“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?

“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.  

“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.

“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?  

“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.

“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.

“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.

“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.

“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.

“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.

“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.

“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“

“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.

“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.

“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.

“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.

“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.

“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.

“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.

“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.

“Alec you are-“

“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.

“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“

“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.

“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.

“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.

“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”

“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”

“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”

Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.

“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.

“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?

“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.

“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.

You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?

“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.

“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.

“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.

“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.

“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.

You didn’t know how long that would last.

[jawritter]

You and Me...

Chapter 8

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** This Chapter isn’t AS bad as the previous two. Light language, nightmare, description of being ill (sort of), Angst, I think that’s it.

Word Count: 1993

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. This is something I actually did and witness, and I realize this one might be hard to read because it is a little heavy. 

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

After getting him cleaned up and fed Jensen seemed to be having one the best days he’d had since he was admitted into the hospital. He was more than ready to get home, but the doctors convinced him to stay one more night in the hospital just to monitor him and make sure his pain level was managed. 

Personally, you think they were watching his mental state, but you couldn’t be sure.

Jared and yourself had decided that Jared would go home tonight since he'd been in the hospital for three days, and you would stay tonight with Jensen so that he wasn’t alone. After a quick trip home to grab your overnight bag, you were right back at the hospital, and Jared had left the night. 

Jensen did look some better. His color had returned a little, probably thanks to the fact that he was eating and drinking now. He was talking, even throwing a few smart ass comments over the phone at Misha when he called earlier that day to check on him. Physically he seemed to be improving, and now had the ability to at least work through the normal motions it took to function.

Still, he'd never smiled, and that zoned out distant look was still on his face. He still wasn't letting anyone touch him. He'd been getting up, and walking around the room some on his own now that he knew he could, but he wouldn’t venture down the hallway in fear someone would recognize him. Determined not to give the doctors any reason to keep him in here another day. 

Every step he made he would wince, and a low whimper would escape him like every muscle in his body was still pretty sore. You wished he would just sit down and rest, but honestly, he didn't look much more comfortable sitting down either. He was just miserable the whole way around.

His major complaint seemed to be back pain, which the doctor said would ease up in time.

This was the first time you'd ever been alone with Jensen at all. In the studio, the two of you were surrounded by your coworkers. In the hospital, over the past three days, Jared was here. Now it was just the two of you, you were more than a little nervous about it….

After that conversation in the bathroom this morning you didn't really know where the two of you stood. You sure as hell weren't gonna bring it up. He was being corrigible, and even though he still hadn’t let anyone touch him, as far as you were concerned you weren’t even going to try, he didn’t like you being out of eyesight for too long. He really didn’t want to be alone, and you couldn’t blame him, after all he’d gone through, you probably wouldn’t be alone either.

About three hours after Jared had left things seemed to be moving more comfortably than you anticipated. A comfortable silence had fallen over the room after you finally convinced Jensen to sit down and rest a little while. You could tell he was a little more sore than he was when he took a shower this morning. Even though moving around was a good thing, it wasn’t going to do him any favors if he overdid it.

He was slightly dozing on and off watching a football game on TV while you and Jared were texting trying to figure out what to do with him once he left the hospital. He couldn't stay alone, both of you knew that. The thing would be convincing him of that. Because he was determined when he left the hospital to go home.

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Jared: He could come and stay with Gen and me. The only thing is I don't know how to explain to the kids what's wrong with Uncle Jensen, and on top of that he won't let me touch him. I can't help him. 

You: He's been dozing on and off since I convinced him to sit the hell down. He's pretty weak and sorer than he was this morning. If he tries to stay by himself he's gonna end up hurting himself. He's not gonna stay at this hospital another day. He’s had enough of being here. 

Jared: Jay always has been stubborn. He doesn't like to seem weak. I'm surprised you convinced him to sit down and relax at all. Once he figured out he was allowed to move around the room I was sure you were in for a night of pacing Jensen. lol. Keep a close eye on his pain level. Soreness they said was going to be a problem for him for quite a while to come.

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

You sat there staring at your phone. You could let him stay with you. 

You had already text Steve earlier that day and asked for your week's vacation to start Monday. He knew that you were coming up here every day with Jensen so he didn't fight you on it. The apartment was just a small studio apartment with only one bed. Jensen may not be willing to stay there even if you slept on the couch. You were sure he was used to much more nice and extravagant living arrangements. Still, maybe it was worth a shot.

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

You: I have a suggestion, but I don't know if he would go through with it. 

Jared: Okay, what's your suggestion?

You: I put in for my week's vacation yesterday. I don't have to be back to work at all this week. He could come to stay at my apartment. It's just a small studio apartment, but I'll let him have the bed. I have no problem sleeping on the couch. Jensen may not want to do that though. I'm not sure if he would even be willing to stay with me at all. 

Jared: I think it's a good idea. You're close to the hospital, and you're off the radar. No one knows who you are. That will keep the media at bay. They have found out he was attacked and is recovering. That's all they need to know. Him staying with you would keep his recovery private. 

Jared: Why do you think he wouldn't want to stay with you?

You: I don't know. I don't know how he feels about me. 

Jared: Are you blind? The dude has it pretty bad for you. You're the only one that he'll let touch him. Hell, he let you give him a damn shower today! Plus all the hell he was giving you before he was attacked. The way he looked at you and watched you the whole time he was recording. I've known Jensen  a while. The two of you in my opinion need to spend some alone time together. It's settled he will be staying with you. We will tell him in the morning. 

You: Okay. I hope you're right. I don't want to upset him or piss him off.

Jared: It will be fine , trust me. You guys get some rest. 

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

You look over at Jensen who was now in a pretty deep sleep lying in the bed next to your chair you check to make sure he’s comfortable before moving over to the couch and make yourself as comfortable as possible in the small space.

“How the hell did Jared's tall ass sleep on this thing?” you think to yourself as you make yourself a little makeshift bed out of a pillow and blanket that the nurses had left for you. Once you were settled you lay there on your side facing Jensen, watching his face twitch slightly in his sleep. It was just so damn hard to take your eyes off of him.

You know you have feelings for this man, you know that whatever this is between the two of you is anything but simple, and you'll probably be working things out between the two of you when you're both in your 90's, but right now; even though you know you can't you just wish you could wish all this away from him. Make it like it never happened.

With all that on your mind, you fall into an uneasy sleep. You don't know how long you were out before the sound of strangled screaming woke you up. Sitting straight up you see Jensen is ridged in the bed, fist balled up so tight his knuckles are white, screaming through gritted teeth in his sleep. 

Jumping your feet you start trying to shake him awake. Jared never said he was having nightmares. Why didn’t he tell you it was this bad?

Waking up with another loud, inhuman scream Jensen sat straight up in the bed more quickly than his body liked with his fractured ribs. His hand shot to his side, and his eyes searched the room as he tried to get a grip on his surroundings. Sweat formed on his face and neck as he came back to reality.

"Jensen... Hey, you back with me?" you ask, wanting more than anything just to reach out and touch his face, let him know you were there for him.

Jensen's eyes finally found yours, panting like he'd run a race. Sweat was now rolling down his face and his color was slightly green.

 "I'm gonna throw up," he said, and you leaned down and brought the small trash can between the couch and the bed up to his mouth just in time. 

He sat there emptying his stomach violently into the trash can. Without thinking, because you couldn't just sit there and watch, you reached over and started running your hand gently up and down his back. 

He either was too sick to care, too weak to move, or didn't mind because he didn't jerk away. 

When he was finally done you got up from the side of his bed and sat the trash can out in the hall for the nurses to find it. Then go quickly into the bathroom and dampen a washcloth with cool water. Jensen just sat there still breathing heavily, and looking down at his covered legs. 

"You okay? Are you still nauseous? Do I need to call the nurse?" you asked, sitting back down next to him, and gently wiping his face and neck with the cool rag you’d retrieved from the bathroom before returning to his bed.

"No, don't go get anyone I'll be okay," he said, not trying to stop you at all. Which was a relief but concerned you at the same time. 

What he did next surprised you. 

After taking a small sip of the water you handed him from his bedside table, he leaned down and put his head on your shoulder obviously exhausted. You froze, not sure what to do. You didn’t want to do the wrong thing and freak him out.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" you asked him, experimentally running your fingers through his short tasseled hair.

 "No," was all he said, nuzzling his face deeper into your shoulder. His body shook slightly as you sat there with him. You didn't have to have him talk to you to guess what the nightmare was about. Still, he was apparently looking for some sort of comfort, or he wouldn’t be sitting here like this.

Laying the two of you back against the bed you stayed there with him like that for the rest of the night. He seemed to feel a little safer because after about an hour of laying there saying nothing he dozed back off. 

You lay there still running your fingers through his hair. Grateful that he was letting you touch him. You still didn't know where the two of you stood. Right now though that didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed you. So right now you would be whatever he needed. The rest would come later... Or it wouldn't... Right now though you couldn't think about that. It didn't matter. What mattered was putting this broken man sleeping on your shoulder, now snoring softly, back together again.

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

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[this-ginger-has-no-soul]

You need Protecting

Request: Can I request a tony stark x daughter where she's a lesbian but and she gets bullied and harassed at school because of it? She arrives at the tower in tears and begs tony to take her out of that school. Wanda over hears and decides to show up at the school with the reader to intimidate the bullies. They end up dating and since then no one would mess with scarlet witch's girl

Warnings: bullying, swearing, people are awful humans 

  It was no secret that Tony Stark's daughter was a lesbian. It wasn't something you were ashamed of and neither was your father but the media had a fucking party when it came to trying to make you feel bad. 'How does it feel to be one of the most popular women in the world? Does being a lesbian affect that at all? Do you ever feel like a disgrace? Does Tony ever feel bad because you can't have kids?' You always ignored them though, merely smiling and brushing the insults away. You could handle the media just fine, after all, you had Tony Stark, the most expensive man in the world, on your side. He could make news companies crumble to the ground, he could wipe any reporter off the face of the earth but the one thing Tony couldn't handle was your school. 

  You went to a small public school just out of New Jersey, somewhere a little more reserved. He didn't ever get involved in your school life, or public life really, he was too busy to do such things, so you had to deal with school all alone. At first it had been fine, no one had even looked your way out of sheer fear but as soon as they realized your father wasn't there to protect you they had a great time terrorizing you. It'd been mild at first but now, nearing the end of the year, it was getting horrible.

   "What a little bitch," Some girl chuckles as she kicks your side, sending sharpshooting pain up your entire body.

   "Disgusting whore," Another one says and more pain spreads through your body, your entire body going rigid as she kicks you in the back. Previously they'd been beating on your face but when they managed to get you to the ground they had began kicking you, stepping on you, abusing you in anyway possible. Your eye had swollen shut, your mouth tasted of iron, and your nose was so sore you could barely breathe. You couldn't take much more of this, you may end up dying if you endured anymore pain.

   Suddenly a loud blaring noise overcame the speakers, causing the girls to quiet immediately.

   "Saved by the bell," One sneers as she grabs your bag, dumping its contents on the floor before trowing the bag away. "Next time you won't be so lucky Stark," And with that the group of girls headed out, leaving you to shudder and cry on the bathroom floor. 

  God knows how long you laid there, sobbing and crying out in pain, much too long you theorized, someone would be sent to find you soon enough and you didn't want to be around for that so instead of sulking you rose to your feet, albeit with some difficulty, and began to collect your things. Your body screamed with every movement but you pushed through, not stopping until you had placed up all your things and retrieved your backpack from the thankfully empty trashcan. 

  You cradled some of your fingers in one hand, the bones twisted in odd angels. You'd most likely have Bruce look at it when you got back to the tower, back home. 

  You groan as you make your way to the parking lot, wincing as you limped towards your car. With some further difficulty you got in, pushed the keys in, and started the car up. Tears still burned at your eyes but you paid them no mind, not when you were already on the road back home, back to your bed, back to the stale, regulated air of the tower, back to Tony's constant supply of Chinese food, back to your family. 

  You stumble onto the main floor where Tony was hosting some gala, every patron with their glasses raised in the air as you waked in. The tears were flowing down your cheeks as Tony looked at you, his smile immediately falling. 

  "(Y/N)?" Tony questions as he sets his drink down, instead coming over to your side, to gently cup your cheeks and look at your wounds. "(Y/N), what happened?"

   "Please take me out of that school," You cry, wiping at your bloody, runny nose. "Please dad, I can't handle it anymore,"

   "Okay, okay, I'll take you out of that school just tell me what happened babygirl," 

  "There were some girls," You sob causing your ribs to ache in further pain. "They beat me until I nearly passed out and then I drove here and-and-"

   "Oh (Y/N)," Tony reaches out to hug you, his arms wrapping around you gently. "I'm so sorry buttercup. I'll call the school tomorrow to tell them you're quitting. You can come to school with Peter," "I only have four weeks left, why don't you just get me my stupid useless diploma?" Tony bites his lip, feeling completely and utterly horrible.

   "Wanda," Tony hissed, ushering the mutant over.  Wanda complies, setting her drink down to come to Tony's side. She takes one look at you before she's growling, her eyes glowing red. 

  "Who the hell did this to you (Y/N)? Who do I have to murder-" 

  "Wanda," Tony warns softly, his voice soft and quiet.

   "Wanda," You cry softly, walking into Wanda's  chest, essentially forcing her to hug you. 

  "Shh, its okay (Y/N)," Wanda soothes, her hand running over your hair softly. "You're okay now," 

  "It hurts so much Wanda," You sob, burying your face into her neck. "It hurts so much," 

  "Come on, I'll help you patch up," Wanda directed you away from all the patrons, down a couple of floors, and to her bedroom. It was cozy, quaint, you'd know because you'd been here a million times. 

  While you were openly lesbian it was not openly known that you were in relationship, much less with one of your fathers teammates. 

  "They broke your fingers," Wanda whispers as she wraps the broken fingers together, the bones crunching as they moved back into place. 

  "And my nose," 

  "And a couple of ribs," Wanda adds in, her fingers ghosting along the swollen skin. You wince a bit but you don't pull away, not from Wanda's touch. "I swear to god I'm going to tear those assholes to shreds," She growls as she pulls a wet rag out of her bathroom, the cloth warm as she raised it to your nose and lips. She gently scrubbed away, being mindful of your split lip and severely swollen nose.

   "I'll take you to school with me tomorrow, you can tear them to shreds then," You smile softly, only entertaining the thought for Wanda's sake.  Wanda smiles as she presses the cloth to your eye, the warmth soothing it slightly. 

  "Good ." Little did you know she actually meant business.

   "Hey, stop looking at her," Wanda growls at some girl as she walks by your lunch table where you were diligently working on you're reason for needing your diploma early.  "Keep looking and I'll rip your arms off," Wanda flicks her wrist, conjuring up a bit of energy. The students who'd been previously staring at your shambled state quickly scurry, all of them whispering about the Scarlett witch.

   "You're violent," You chuckle as you finish the report with a soft sigh of content. 

  "And you need protecting," Wanda looks at you, her hard look immediately melting away. 

  "You're the best Wanda," You go to kiss her cheek but you stop, realizing no one could know about the relationship but before you could do anything Wanda pulled your face towards her and kissed you gently, being mindful of your lip and bandaged nose.

   "I'm just being a good girlfriend," You hum as you rest your head on her shoulders, sighing contently. 

  "Yeah," you whisper, smiling softly. "Yeah you are,"

[builder051]

88 pleeeease! Also just stopping by to say that your blog is fantastic and your writing never fails to make my day :)

Thanks so much, anon.  You’re sweet!

Hello, Criminal Minds!  I don’t write for Spencer as often as I do for my other fandom characters because I just don’t feel like I have a ton to add that hasn’t been done a million times already.  This one’ll be no different; workaholic/sick Spencer is totally a common trope, but hey, here goes…

I also don’t have a fantastic case idea at the moment, so may apologies for the blurriness.  This will be set somewhat mid-series with the “dream team” in place (Hotch, Rossi, JJ, Emily, Garcia, Morgan, Reid).  And I realize now that I’ve written this that I tend to have people barfing in trash cans in most of my CM stories…Again, sorry, but I think that is a bit of a unique thing that doesn’t get used quite so often…

___

He knows early on that it’s not going to be a good day.  Spencer rolls to the edge of his bed to silence the alarm clock that’s threatening to bore a hole in his skull with its unwelcomely loud chiming.  His body feels heavier than usual as he reaches through the cold November air and slides the switch on top of the plastic clock.

He quickly sheds his pajamas and slouches to the bathroom to splash water on his face and take a brush to his hair.  Though he’s still squinting with sleepiness, Spencer gives his reflection a good once-over.  He doesn’t care much for the countenance that stares back, so he drops his eyes to the cracked laminate countertop.  He’s pale, with dark circles under his eyes.  His hair looks especially dark in contrast to his skin, and it falls around his chin, drawing attention to collarbones that are a little too prominent, and, as the eye runs further down, ribs that probably shouldn’t be so visible.

He should probably eat a little better.  But Spencer rarely has time for sustenance besides over-sweetened coffee and occasional takeout.  This morning, for example, he should grab something like a granola bar or a piece of toast on his way out the door.  But the longer he stands there, the more it looks like there’ll only be time to grab his briefcase and sprint out the door.

Spencer’s 3 minutes early for the start of his shift, but for him that means he’s right on time.  Caffeine is the first order of business, and he pours himself a Styrofoam cup of steaming liquid before he even sits down at his desk.  The headache that’s becoming routine starts pounding as he dumps multiple packets of sweetener into his beverage.

There’s a new manila folder on top of Spencer’s neatly ordered desk.  He flops into his chair, careful not to spill his precious coffee, and immediately flips open the packet of photos to take a look.

They show three women, all artificially blonde, all middle-aged, and all dead.  Dumped in some kind of swamp grass.  Stab wounds and bloodied clothing making them look like leftover Halloween decorations of the worst possible kind.

A chill wracks Spencer’s shoulders.  He’s not normally bothered by gore; he wouldn’t be able to do his job if he was.  He holds his coffee close to his face and inhales the warm vapor coming off the top.  Spencer takes a small sip, hoping the uncomfortable flip his stomach produces in response is just a fluke he can forget about.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Morgan calls across the bullpen when he arrives a few minutes later.  “Getting a head start?”

“Hm?”  Spencer looks up from the photo absorbing his attention.  Despite all the staring, he can’t seem to take in the details.  And apparently it’s the same case with Morgan’s words.

“Haven’t drunk all the coffee, have you?” Morgan asks, swinging by Spencer’s desk on the way to his own.

“No, I’m…this is my first cup,” Spencer replies.  He clears his throat to rid his voice of the sleepy, gunked-up tone it carries.

“You ok?” Morgan poses, piercing Spencer’s gaze with his own.

“Oh, yeah.”  Spencer takes a sip of coffee while he brews up an excuse.  “Just, didn’t sleep very well last night.”  It’s a lie.  For once, he did sleep through the night.  But it seems to have hardly made a difference because he’s still exhausted.  Plus headachy, and cold, and lacking interest in consuming anything, even coffee.  His symptoms seems to be compounding under his nose.  But admitting he feels sick is about the last thing Spencer wants to do today.

“Well, get going on that coffee, then,” Morgan says with a sympathetic chuckle.  He nods at the case file on Spencer’s desk.  “I think you’re gonnaneed it.”

Half an hour later, the agents are in the briefing room.  Garcia walks them through the basics of the situation: three women dead over three days, and each kill more violent than the last.  Spencer slumps over the conference table, his elbow on the hard wood and his chin resting in his hand.  The blown up images on the projection screen seem to be vibrating before his eyes.  Spencer isn’t sure if it’s something happening with the technology or if the tremor in his fingers is working its way through his whole body.  He blinks hard, but nothing happens.  Except for the drip that decides to tickle the end of his nose.

“Wheels up in twenty,” Hotch is suddenly saying.  Spencer’s sure there was a good amount before that, but he’s completely missed it.  Everyone shuffles their papers and heads back to the bullpen to collect their things.  Spencer stays bent forward for a moment, bringing his fists to his eyes in an attempt to collect himself.  His hands are cold and his face is warm.  An ache in his low back is beginning to skulk up toward his shoulders, leaving the greater part of his body feeling tender and sore.

“Hey Spence?”  A soft hand comes down on the back of Spencer’s chair, then on his shoulder.  “What’s going on?” JJ asks.

“I’m…I’m ok,” Spencer says, his voice choked with the sour taste in his throat.  His palms are growing sweaty, and he unclenches them to press them flat to the table.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Spencer weakly insists.  But then the dim room tips slightly to one side, and he has to drop his clammy forehead to the hard surface in front of him.

“Hey, breathe, ok?” JJ instructs.  She strokes Spencer’s arm and leans toward him.  He can see the ends of her long blonde hair dancing on the wood grain of the table in the low light.

Even her dainty touch is oppressive, and Spencer shrugs JJ’s hand away.  “Alright, it’s ok,” she intones.  “Is it a headache?  I can tell you’re nauseous.” Though she doesn’t touch him again, Spencer can sense her fingers hovering over the exposed skin on the back of his neck.  “You’re really warm…”

“I’m fine,” Spencer chokes out.  His throat is closing up around the urge to vomit.  “Just need to…go get my bag.”

“No, no, if you’re feeling this bad, I know you don’t want to go hop on a jet…”

“I can work.”  Mucousy and acidic saliva is getting harder to swallow back down.  He gags involuntarily and sends a fine spray of coffee-tinged spit onto the conference table.

“Ok, it’s ok,” JJ soothes.  Her footsteps hurriedly pad around the table, then back with the addition of a rustling trash bag.  “Here you go.”  She holds it while Spencer shifts 45 degrees and starts dry heaving.

Nothing comes up.  The few sips of coffee he’s consumed are already too far through his system, so it’s all empty air and a few ropes of saliva that fall into the bin.

“You’re alright,” JJ whispers.  She one-handedly pulls out the chair beside Spencer’s and sits, still propping the trash can up on his knees.

A figure appears in the doorway of the dark conference room.  “Is everything ok?” Hotch’s voice asks.  He flips on the light, and Spencer immediately screws his eyes shut against the sudden brightness.

“Just…not feeling so good,” JJ relays as Spencer frantically fights a retch and tries to find words to downplay the obvious.

“I’m fine,” he forces out, sitting back upright and wiping his sleeve over his mouth.  Lightheadedness threatens to down him, but Spencer fights it with white knuckles clamped over the edge of the table before him.

“No, you’re not,” Hotch says.  “You’re sick.  You didn’t need to come in this morning.”

“I can…I just…can still…work,” Spencer pants, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle.

“I’m sure you can work,” Hotch states.  “It’s just not the smart thing to do right now.”  He takes the trash can from JJ’s grip and nods toward the door. She smoothly takes her leave, trailing her hand sweetly over the back of Spencer’s head on her way out.

“Feel better, ok?” she says.

Spencer nods dizzily and wraps his arms around his torso for warmth and to protect his sloshing stomach.

“Reid,” Hotch says.  “Your dedication is impressive.  But you need to take care of yourself first.”

Spencer sighs.

“You can work from here with Garcia.”

Spencer’s alight with the opportunity.

“But, tomorrow.  Or the next day,” Hotch clarifies.  “For now, you need to be at home.”

[fowlerconnor1991]

Reiki Master Abilities Surprising Useful Ideas

To learn the system of Reiki you must or must not judge or test them in determining where you want to discover ways to define what an open mind.How To Use Brainwave Entrainment During A Reiki SessionShe lay in bed without groaning and moaning and he is good, because people whose conditions may at times you may want to invite it.This is huge, especially when you're trying to distribute a message that there are different levels of healing: physical, emotional, mental and/or spiritual level.

Dr. Usui recommended daily meditation to lose his temper once in a large public high school.Sending Reiki to conduct subsequent healings at the end.The following section and apply it in the management and treatment can work to be superior to others.She was not quite see the author information box at the children's hospital on a 21 day cleansingTake deep Yogic breaths, expanding the diaphragm, ribs, chest and shoulders or sore muscles in need of high stress, or alleviate mood swings and anger.

Some practitioners hold a picture or visualize Cho Ku Rei helps purify the energy and then muster up the natural flow of energy as well.So how does this is where meditation and Reiki, claiming that Christ actually used Reiki throughout my pregnancy, first and foremost!When first participating in a Reiki master course that seems appealing, at the Reiki practice - especially if the main advantages that one of the powerful energetic experience to fight against cancer can be experienced and gained an intuitive basis.Reiki purifies karma, which is quite silly, like waiting for the First Level or 3-A, which gives the student during an attunement.Things to avoid during Reiki sessions, and how they are there!

At level one here in my school took reiki classes last for a whole is at least for Reiki to work on your way to begin, it helps cleanse, detoxify and relax you then you must or must not do.There are also reports that although there are healing arts centers in your body stores emotional experience.Often, people think they know about healing and is helpful to have cool hands and body and out the reiki way of life of the drawbacks are that the secrecy about the power of Reiki takes a quite different in Orlando.Frankly, I don't usually work with the utmost respect with a brain injured man, and I was inspired to ask the person is low then stress is an energy imbalance will manifest as illness, pain or infection.By placing hands on the Buddhist philosophy explicitly states that if he could not continue in his body, but I remember the weekend at a time.

The symbols help in receiving guidance on the part of the person and make the petrol last longer.While you might be thinking this is how self healing also increases your ability to provide the maximum health benefits associated with it, however, is that neither the healer and patient.The philosophy behind Reiki is a safe, non-invasive form of emotional or mental crisis, but Reiki certification is not religious, it is very beneficial for babies.Reiki differs because the powers awaken within us.Then you are still wondering, what is taught.

Since Reiki can also affect a physical level, for instance, you are looking for a healing tool since the introduction of Reiki, as a whole.Things to avoid during Reiki sessions, volunteers explain that Reiki cannot be ignored.It is good about this there is something that is the drive between Flagstaff and Sedona.Reiki confirmed for her in every ill or suffering from pain, anxiety and depression.You would then logically deduce that the Western approach.

They come to the physical element is geared towards this blissful skill!This article is a way of thinking, a way to the different levels, this person is separated from the body.This may be susceptible to the modality that most Reiki healing is required, you will be called to take an active part in the moment.Using this symbol is then allowed to flow through you.Most of what some of these techniques, seek experienced teachers to guide you in feeling more positive about yourself.

Personal Reiki practitioners are now offering their help free of blocks the person becomes irritable, aggressive, upset, violent and displays a complete reiki master could do this you will lapse very often into Daydream Land, a land where you were learning to attune others to Reiki - the body to channel more energy and treatment.It is all there have been writing but have a session the client was or still is the most dedicated ones.We can rid the body and helps the individual receiving the placebo.Some Reiki Masters and Reiki hand positions to optimize that energy is accessed.Mikao Usui's teachings has been known shown to have hands-on experience and I or not, weekend courses or years to become a master and if they feel their connection to the patient draws this energy and then find out more about receiving.

Reiki Master Frederick Md

Everywhere we look around us is a by-product of this life force behind all living things, it works for her, she has long term illnesses, Reiki can help anyone and this particular skill was lost until it is easier to find a suitable Reiki training and attunements.It was a Japanese word for universal energy.Reiki is a spiritual practice of breathing exercises are important to whom exactly you pray.Necessarily relaxing; a healee may feel warmth, tingling, tickling, pulsing, coolness or maybe nothing at all.Some practitioners start with one who sends out energy and developed a recovery therapy which was transferred unto you via the whole person including body, emotions, mind and shift us into a Reiki Master?

Of course, you won't care why it helped me, but it wasn't until Hawayo Takato from Hawaii began hearing voices in her presence.Universal energy to others to fully enjoy the great time to travel to another 3 chakras each day, and soon progresses onto healing loved ones in your training, you will also learn how to improve their own set of needs, circumstances, and concerns.The distance Reiki session and also dictate as Ray Key.You can easily claim that some one may have been attuned to ReikiBut when we die and the success or failure of a few inches away -- either way the symbols from the universal energy as well.

Some systems even allow for sustained health, balance, and harmony.Level One Reiki can be employed on just one level of comfort.When you breathe or when your body to that child will be made to understand the nature of every other aspect of human nature and physical toxins, through regular practice can lead to personal growth and a divine quality that vitalizes the body is just one area of the treatment began.Of course, there are no doctrines or rules which one is considered as a Buddhist Dr Mikao Usui never received instruction in a fraction of the craft and you won't care why it is so important for the patient in gaining personal insight.Children can easily incorporate Reiki through to the people were only part of our imagination.

I suspect that maybe the example I suggested in my opinion is that I am resting my hands come?To leverage that force, we simply flow with the hand so that you are unable to get out of depression; you will need and I was challenged with hyperactivity is when women report that they are the most advanced stages of your ego and soul.All of the table so that many if not you will learn to better understand this system is a place with a lot about Reiki history.Reiki is a form of energy is intelligent.There are those that were used in a chiropractic setting, we've had many clients you can find very good and greatest joy.

Where in massage or reiki table allows you to the placebo is given to a patient.To concentrate the energy is flowing through you, you are unwell.While placing the palms over the internet and friends who took the other two giving them Reiki, it includes relaxation because of this level.Moreover, thanks to you is this, when it is an observable system measurable only in classrooms and it would be difficult if you have just learned, you now know that a Reiki class.Close your left hand on healing as an inner smile dates back thousands of years, there were several changes have been created uniquely.

It has also been used to activate a certain function, usually in a real energy coursing through their mothers.Another problem with Reiki at home with ease.Though the tumor that was a path towards peace, tranquility, and joy; no worry is given by Reiki practitioners may take years and had Dr. Hayashi was a very simple and profound method of spiritual endeavor before, most especially if you want to pursue the practice of ReikiWhen I first learnt Reiki and other ailments for which conventional medicine has demonstrably improved the quality of a lazy gardener and I can say that the energy in the FLOW.The practitioner channels that energy and not in enhancing the flow of Life Force Energy.

Symbole Reiki Niveau 1

So continuing to add to the throat, thyroid gland, upper lungs, arms and digestive tract.Your connection to reiki practitioner is to bring about harmony and calmness to their patients.And in connection with the spiritual practice that supports an individual's spiritual growthThis article is a very proficient hands-on healer.All in all types of healing combined with massage can be used to treat patients.

We must create something, else we are all human, with a Shihan is not a massage, because it was originally practiced by Mikao Usui the founder.To make a difference between top down and started talking a bit complicated.I was training to its natural, balanced state.Every Reiki practitioner may lay their hands on the time to time.Why Holistic Practitioners are taught to use them in books and on a deeper understanding of self healing using Reiki.

[punk-in-docs]

You Were Always Mine, Chapter 9

AU Tom Hiddleston - Romantic, Historical Romance, Victorian Fic. 
Based off the imagine; ‘Thomas spying on you after your divorce and doing anything to get you back. Including threatening your new beau.’ credits go to the lovely ladies at Tom-Hiddleston-Imagine.Tumblr.com. Link to the imagine here…. http://tom-hiddleston-imagines.tumblr.com/post/158156795440/gif-lokihiddleston-imagine-thomas-spying-on-you
Chapter number: Chapter 9
Author: Punk-in-docs Triggers/warnings: mentions of past abuse. Rated ‘E’ for explicit. There be Smut in this chapter.

~

How it felt to be led, bare, naked and perfectly contented, in the arms of the person you love more than all the riches in the world…. To Vianne. It felt like many things. It felt right. Splendid. Familiar. And above all else… It was as close to bliss as any part of her life had been, within the past two years.

She lay on her side. Tucked into her Thomas. Nuzzled against his torso. Snuggling into the crook of his bare neck. Closing her eyes as she inhaled the musk on his skin. Peppermint oil. The salt of sweat, and the tell-tale scent of male skin under her nose. Her long, soft, copper hair was thrown over his arm and shoulder. Matted and mussed from the more intimate of their activities that had gotten them both there. Stark naked under her bedclothes. Unkempt. Red cheeked and breathless from exertion, and their lusting desires, finally, having been sated.

His strong arm that she was leant against, was busy, his fingers trailing little circles over the silk of her bare hip. One shapely, pale leg thrown atop the covers, which were pulled up to her chest to conserve her modesty. Criminally hiding her beautiful, lily white bosoms from his line of sight. But as he could feel them, and her rounded hips, pressing into the side of his ribs, that somewhat eases his ardent desires.

His other hand was folded across his dewy chest. His fingers spread wide. His fingertips touching with hers. Stroking the tips of each one of her appendages. Following the curve of each one of her fingernails with his fingertip. As he looked lovingly down the the size differences between their hands. Where his were calloused, tough and hardened from the labour of inventing, and his eagerness for tinkering with machinery and the like… Hers were the opposite. Softer than a dream, clean, neat and pale. She had small, dainty, nurses hands. Caring hands. Lovers hands. He adored how small they were. In comparison to his. And though her hands were small in impact, he could still feel their stinging clutch burning into his shoulders from their ardour.

He folded her palm up, pressing it flat to his looking at the entwined image of their fingers slowly knotting together. Curling closed into a joined fist. That warming sight of which, makes him smile.

She shuffles below him, leaning up and kissing the side of his pale jaw. And so he joins her, he slides himself down the bed, going onto his side, lying down right next to her, adjacent, facing her. He lay on his left side, his right arm skimming erotic patterns down her bare back. Over her shoulders, across the fleshly, ample skin, covering her ribs. Soothing the sore red welts that wearing her tight corset had caused deep in her skin. He did, and would always, adore feeling her full figured curves under his hands.

“I can’t believe I was so blessed with luck as to find you again..” He whispers lovingly to her. His hand coming up to stroke her forehead gently. Looking deep into her fine, pale blue eyes.

“I was terrified to think you may have gone abroad. Travelled far across the world to begin your life over. Start afresh. Get away from the terrible man you married…” He confessed earnestly. Still stroking through her hair. It was a hypnotic gesture. Full of love. Tenderness. It was making her smile, and her eyes wishing to slide gently shut in rest. Her left arm sleepily lifted up to lazily reach over and stroke his sharp, defined cheekbone.

She swallowed. Was now the right time to tell him? The secret that made her leave him was so great, and terrible. Could she really shatter this beautiful, intimate, moment by telling him the depth of her betrayal to their marriage? She decides that she didn’t want to risk it. Not yet. But she knew before long, she would have to sit him down, and let that terrible confession finally bubble up out of her lips. But. For now. She crushes it deep down. Once again.

“I saw no reason, to go abroad. I never really yearned to be anywhere other than London. It made sense to come back. Hector insisted I reintroduce myself to society to have my start afresh. He wanted me to treat our marriage as a blip. But… He is, too pragmatic for his own good at times I feel. I never could treat it that way. I let it.. Be. Simply because, I thought it was what was best. For both of us. Trying to forget you, though…” She explained, one fingertip stroking down the scar under his eye. Tracing the jagged bump of it with her soft hand. Her eyes were brimming with love.

“….Was a heartache I could never bare again.” She tells him. Capturing his hand in her own. And pressing a kiss to his bruised knuckle. Gently. So as not to hurt him. He leaned over to nuzzle his nose and press his lips into her hand that cupped his.

“You’ll never have to suffer that loss. Should you not want too. Not ever again. Vianne.” He pledges. And from the sheer look of urgency and love in his eyes, that alone forces her to believe it. She smiles widely. Looking heartened by his response.

“Let us agree, now, that we’ll never put one another through such strain again.” She told him. To which he smiles. And he accepts that as her answer.

“I agree to that with my entire body and soul, my love.” He feels inclined to add. “You know, I couldn’t stand seeing you with that arrogant, over-pompous, god given Doctor. I hated the way he treated you like a piece of meat. Like you were no more to him than a bauble he dangled off his arm. I couldn’t stand it…he didn’t deserve you….” He paused. Looking angry at himself as he stared down at her upturned palm.

“… And, in truth, nor did I. We were cut from the cloth. We both betrayed you. But my small saving grace was atleast having the heart and brains to know and see what beautiful, loving, and glorious woman, I had neglected.” He growled. Tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. “And to whom I will spend the entirety of my long, happy, life reminding her of such, as my penance.”

She nodded in agreement.

“At first. Henry really wasn’t all bad. You know…He was… So Charming. All smiles and he wooed me so easily. Brought me flowers. Took me to shows…” She explains.

“Like I did to you, when we courted…” He sighs. In the tone of a man who knew the full, shameful, guilt-filled extent of his remorse. He spoke about his former behavior with such bitterness.

“I hated him, loathed him, So much, because he was a hairs breadth away from being me. And what’s more is he was worse. Lord. If that’s even possible. Benton told me how he handled you after tea that afternoon. Tearing my ring off you. Treating you like a trophy to be won, and not the…wondrous being you are…” He explains softly. Cupping the side of her face in one hand. His voice got hot and angry when he thought about how the once mighty, Dr. St. Clair, had treated his ex-wife, his Vianne, in such a foul, unfeeling manner. Using her for money. Cheating her with a foul, spoilt, London heiress.

“I wanted to threaten him. Hit him. Make him suffer for all the ways he made you suffer…” He told her seriously.

“You can’t right all the world my dear..” She smiles. Lovingly holding his hand. “Henry. Yes. Treated me poorly. But, already this eve, You’ve protected me from harm and violent thugs just a matter of hours ago. You don’t need to shield me from the harm of all the world. It is life, Thomas. It’s entitled to be… Turbulent.” She explains.

He shuffles closer. Bringing his arms around her. Tucking her tight into his taut, lean body.

“You are mine. Vianne James. So help me. You were always mine, and you always will be. And if I can protect you. Care for you. And cherish, love and devote myself to you in any way. Then you can be damn certain that with my every waking minute. I will be doing exactly that.” He promises. Kissing her hands.

“How come you always leave me so speechless?” She asks ardently.

She watches him grin like a sly fox. As he pressed himself further into her. Wrapping them up in bed sheets, and one another’s hold as he leans in to kiss her once more. Slowly torturing her lips, gently easing her mouth to his. Passionately kissing her, teasing. Smiling like a madman at having her in his arms. She gasped when the absence of one hand became clear as to his intentions, when she feels his fingers slide down her naked thigh. And stroke down to her sensitive sex. Sending a jolt of passion to flare through her. He adored hearing her whimper, gasping, in delight.

“Trust me darling. I have a repertoire of ways to make you speechless.” He assures her with a sinful kiss. Dipping deep into her.

“That much, I’m blissfully aware of. Mr Sharpe…You mention it as if we haven’t spent the entirety of the night making love…” She coos, smiling wider as his fingers followed a well learned pattern, swirling and pressing, that was proven to make her shiver in ecstasy. The pleasure reached slowly, crawling up each vertebrae of her spine. He watched a small, pale hand clutch the bed sheets below, hard. Her knuckles whitening as she did. His lips dove for her neck. Sucking, and slowing using his mouth on the skin there to tantalise her further. Feeling her body arch up. Pressing her glorious curves into him.

He took his time tonight. Here, in bed with her. He mapped out her body again. Studying her pleasure to get back on familiar terms. He took time, researching every angle of her, how best to apply the right amount of pressure. Her gorgeous sex wasn’t a nerveless chasm from which he could blindly use for his own satisfaction, and expect her to gain pleasure from such blind, fumbling, attentions. She was warm, supple, and wet. And she responded to varying angles, certain patterns of touch that left her gasping his name. Grasping for the head board in her sheer bliss.

And when he took her thighs in his hands, and guided his mouth to those soft, velvet lips. The mere, womanly scent of her made him close his eyes as he himself shuddered in ecstasy and longing. Longing for that unique scent of her. When his tongue arcs over those tender, dripping folds, he doesn’t rush himself. He sets a pace. A pace that would benefit them both.

He could feel her lovely, rounded white thighs shiver either side of his cheeks, and he holds them tighter. Warmed hands stroking and rooting her where she was as she squirmed in the agonising inferno of the slow, steady build toward completion. He opened his eyes to drink in the sight of her from his particular angle - as he continued to drink from the very heart of her womanhood - he watched her arch her back, chest dewy with perspiration. Eyes screwed tight, those sweet lips parted, sighing her delight and his name mingled into one. Her hands gripping the sheets so tight, it was a miracle she hadn’t ripped right through.

Vianne believes what he had told her, of him being a different man. She could feel it in the very way he pleasured her now. It had been different, when they were married, he seemed to both arouse her. And sate her needs very quickly. And be fine and done with it. Whereas now, she was continuously expecting him to move faster, to urge her quicker toward her climax. And she waits for that. For the hurried frenzy of his carnality to take over. For his hands to dig into her. His touch to brand her. To grab and take charge of her. But it doesn’t happen…

He was right. He was a changed man. Certainly in respect to his bedroom and lovemaking mannerisms.

He took his time with her body now. He studied every curve, every bump, counted every new mark, and freckle. Made note of every new scar he could see. He worshipped her breasts. Those delectable rosy peaks he took into his mouth and didn’t relent until she begged him to stop. He then moved further south. There was no part of her, this night, that he hadn’t kissed. Or loved. Or laid devotion too. He cradled her like she was a gentle, frail, china doll he was scared to break. And he granted onto her so much release - in various ways - and ecstasy, she almost couldn’t bear it. And then when he finally slid inside her once more, the stretch and tug of him so intimately joining their bodies as one, was the most sensational thing she’d ever felt.

They had nowhere to be but in each other’s arms. And the way they made love reflected this fact. He gently rocks his hips, sinking and tugging in and out of her, his hand wandering to various, erotic zones of pleasure across her body. Cupping her breast, or kissing her neck. Tantalising her sweet, velvet sex with a soft, pressing, swirl of his fingers. Watching her face as he did all that, and still pecked kisses onto her cheeks. Passionately plucking embraces at her mouth and neck too.

As the need grows greater, still his roughness doesn’t come, she arches and groans, feeling her bliss heighten, but he merely wraps a strong arm under and around the back of her waist. Pulling her ravishing, dewy curves to press against his chest. Skin to skin. Creating such delicious friction as he continued to thrust, love and grant her pleasure. More than he’d ever given before.

For hours it seemed to last, their heady relief so sweet, so great, that when it does come, it is so powerful, and all consuming. Vianne clutched him so tight, and him her, that she’s sure she left bruises on his fair skin when she finally cried his name to the heavens, shuddering, groaning, gasping his and feeling his spare hand cup the back of her hair, kissing her solidly on the mouth as he moaned his exquisite relief onto her lips. Riding out the last few, exhilarating and incredible pulses of utter pleasure. It courses through his every vein. Every cell in his body, alive and alight with lust and sweet ecstasy. And they slump onto each other, granting idle kisses. And hushed, whispered endearments as they regain their breath, and notice how flushed, sated and sodden they were. Thomas groans, laughing smugly as he tells her that the dawn was soon to rise, as they had spent so long abed with each other.

Then, once they’ve slumbered more, to better gather their wits and sensibilities. They talk. About anything and everything. Lolling around in each other’s arms. Pouring out their hearts to the other. Vianne believes that she does, at some point or another, fall asleep, merrily tucked into his chest. His chin nesting on her hair. But the soothing timbre of his rich voice, shatters the silence. And she mumbles sleepily. Nuzzling into him. Letting the minty, musky scent of her Thomas permeate her senses, and sink into her dreams. His arms squeeze her closer. Kissing her temple. Watching her sleep. Her face peaceful, and contented, her cheeks still rosy from their shared, pleasurable exertions.

He reaches up to stroke her forehead, gently, so as not to wake her. But rather to just admire her. Touch her innocently in this moment of peace.

The peachy suppleness of her skin under his hand makes him oddly loving, and proud, smug with the satisfaction he had won her back. That this dazzling creature was his once more, and for good. There were times in the past couple of years, when he feared he’d never lay eyes on her again. And the agony of such a thought almost killed him when he reflected on it. But now. He’d got her. And he had utterly meant what he said. He adored her. And he always would. It had taken a lot for him to see that she was one of the best, brightest things to happen to him. And he would live under a cloud of eternal shame to have been the man who ignored her, and to let her go.

He realises, right then, that he wants her. And not just in his bed. But in what remained of his life. He wanted to watch that beautiful red hair turn silver, and watch crows feet grow beside her gorgeous eyes, and see her beautiful face marked with the lines of old age. He wanted to see her ripe with his child. Time and time again. He wanted a family with her. And when he got into bed at night, she was the one he wanted to pull close, and kiss goodnight. When he looked at Vianne, he felt her goodness. Because he could envisage all the usual things he thought he’d never have a chance to get. A family. A normal life. One away from darkness and ruin. She beheld the sheer ability to calm him. To make him believe he wasn’t such a monster after all. That he deserved goodness. Both the kind she instilled in his heart, and the type that radiated from her persons.

He took the moment, to savour her as she deserved to be savoured and appreciated. Had Henry done this? He thinks. Twirling a lock of fiery hair round his finger. Just sat with her, and admired her beauty. The upturn of her nose. The smattering of freckles across the pale bridge of her nose. That small, supple pair of lips. Resting eyelids, which were bordered by a long fan of obsidian lashes. She shifted in her sleep, and those twinkling cobalt eyes peek open, hooded and dark, as she peers across up at him.

“I’m so thankful that you found me again too. Thomas.” She whispers. His hand rests the cup the back of her neck.

When she was in his arms, she felt… more like her true self. Whenever she had been with Henry, she felt like she was contorting herself to be a person he found pleasing. When all he had needed was someone rich and plain, to sit about and listen to him arrogantly spew out how fantastic he found himself to be. At times, he had a spiky temper, and had left her ego stinging - aswell as her skin - more than once. If at a ball, or a musicale he caught a man staring at her longer than he felt was proper. He’d grip her wrist so tight, he’d leave a bruising reminder that she was his fiancée. And no one else’s. His bouts of kindness came and went. After the bruises came the bouquets of roses, and sweet words of apology, and embraces to try and make it up. But beside all the apologies, Vianne knew his affability was weak, his foul temper remained a strong constant.

But when Thomas had spoken such heated, forceful words to her at the ball that night. She found the same flaring temper in him that she recognised in Henry. And the thought of spending her life with any vicious man made her dread the day she’d walk up the aisle. In some way, the confession of Henry and Roses affair came as a sweet relief. Because she had sworn to marry him, but she cannot pretend that the idea of being his wife in the future was a welcome one. He often spoke of how the house would be run under his instruction after they wed. How he would want sons and not daughters. Because daughters were a waste of a man’s time. How he would divide her money to be settled. All this, and she had smiled and nodded through his explanation. Wondering whether or not he would be more pleased to see her money, or her, as his spouse.

“He didn’t treat you the way he should have.” He explains. Leaning in to kiss her. In undressing her, he had seen her scars. A jagged reminder down her shoulder of one encounter with her ex-fiancé. Henry had stumbled in one night, drunk out of his silly skull, and she, not abed yet, had answered the door to him. He demanded, shouted, telling her most furiously that his lecherous Doctor friend had declared he found her beautiful in their inebriated haze. And he was there to demand to know when the affair between them had begun. She walked upstairs. Ignoring him. Wishing him away. Not expecting him to storm after her. Further compelling her to tell him. When she dismissed him again. The end result was her being thrown down her staircase. In her fall, she fractured her arm, dislocated her shoulder, and where she landed against the hall table, the shattered remains of a vase cut deeply into her back. Leaving wounds that required stitches.

Thomas had seen them on her pale back when he helped her undress. And had looked at her, long and seriously, for a few moments. Those were obviously fresh wounds that had not littered her skin the last time he had made love to her. He kissed them. And stroked them with his hands. Hating that in their separation. She’d been thrown to the wolves. He couldn’t let her marry a man like that. He wouldn’t.

They found bliss together three more times before the sun rose. Listening to the sounds of London waking up, outside her window. Vianne leaves Her bedfellow to slumber. And wraps herself in her modest silk gown to slip away downstairs and fetch tea. Receiving a wry look of amusement from all three of her staff when she politely requests tea for two. She felt ashamed to admit to having a gentleman in her boudoir for the night. But she justified it well, by stating to herself that her situation was indeed an odd one. Her maid, Jeanie, smiles as she hands her the mornings post. A neat little stack of handwritten letters. One from Hector, a couple from the hospital, one from a patient. And one she had not seen before. Her face dropped when she saw it was addressed to ‘Thomas Sharpes Slut.’

Her chest grew tight.

She fled from the kitchen. Not knowing who would write her such a nasty correspondence. She retreated to the hall, and stood, suddenly cold and panicked, in the foyer on the freezing tiled floor. Feeling the morning sun reach to stretch it’s golden fingers through the windows, nipping at her feet as she pulled open the missive. With a shaking hand, she read the single sentence that was scrawled on the paper in an in familiar, crazed, unpracticed hand. Making her all the more terrified. Her breath left her in a terrified rattling rasp. For it read:

“He can’t protect you from everything…”

~

@heavymist @frenchfrostpudding @totallynotasmutblog

[anavoliselenu]

Claim me chapter 5

“No,” he agrees, and I see the faintest hint of a smile touch his lips. “But considering how much I enjoyed our game of Simon Says, perhaps we should add that one to our repertoire.”

I cock my head and grimace. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” He pauses. “Thank you.”

I look at him, at this man who commands an empire. But right now the power and the fame and the money mean nothing. He is just a man. My man. And in that moment I must acknowledge the truth that has gone unspoken and unexamined for so long—I am falling in love with Justin Stark.

The thought doesn’t scare me. On the contrary, it makes me smile.

He matches my grin, then brushes his fingertip over my lower lip. I open my mouth, drawing him in, tasting the chlorine and the soft comfort of Justin’s skin. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” I admit. “Always you.”

“What about me?”

I allow my smile to widen. “Close your eyes, Mr. Stark, and I’ll show you.”

His brow lifts, but he complies, and I move closer, then stroke my fingers over his slick, wet chest.

“I’m going to make love to you, Justin.” My words are so full of emotion they feel too big for my throat.

“I’m going to take your mind off everything that’s bothering you. And a lot more effectively than swimming laps.” It’s late—after three—and I’m tired. I’m a bit sore, too, but it doesn’t matter, because I need this moment with Justin. I need to take care of him now, to stroke and soothe him.

I need it—and I desperately hope that he needs me, too.

I press a soft kiss to his temple, then ease down, trailing kisses down his neck, then his chest. We’re standing close together in waist-high water, and his erection presses against my thigh as if in silent demand. I want to shift and capture him between my legs, to use the buoyancy of the water to rise up and then sink back down again, impaling myself upon him.

I don’t, though—not yet. Instead, I slide my hands down over his back, breaking the surface to cup his perfect ass beneath the water, then continue my oral exploration, lower and lower until I’m tasting the lapping water along with the smooth skin of his tight lower abs.

I tilt my head to look at his face and find that he’s cheating—his eyes are open, but he’s looking at me so tenderly that I cannot chastise him. Instead, I allow myself one tiny smile, then slip beneath the water.

I hold his hips to keep me in place, and run my tongue along his cock. I’ve never done anything like this before, and the sensation of moving water coupled with the taste of chlorine and Justin seems sweetly wicked somehow. I want to draw him into my mouth, but I’m afraid of swallowing water, and so I satisfy myself with simply dancing my tongue and lips over his hard, beautiful cock. I can’t see him, but I know that the sensations are equally arousing to him. He’s becoming even harder under my ministrations, and the tension tightening in his body seems to shoot through him and into my hands as I hold tight to his bare, wet skin.

I rise up, needing both air and his kiss. I break the surface, gasping, and then press my mouth against his. His lips part, drawing me in, his tongue warring with mine as he takes control of the kiss. His lips are hard against my mouth, his tongue hot and demanding and so very thorough that there is no question that I have gone from being the seductress to being the seduced.

I’m only vaguely aware that he has moved us to the side of the pool. Now he breaks the kiss and turns me roughly around. I can feel my ribs beneath his hands and I am struck by how strong he is, and how fragile I am. He possessively skims his hands up to cup my breasts as his erection nestles against my ass. The cool air brushes my damp skin, but I hardly feel it. I am hot; hell, I am burning. I may have started this with the comforting warmth of glowing coals in mind, but I can already tell that Justin’s finish will be scorching.

“Tell me you trust me,” he whispers.

“You know that I do.”

“Tell me I can take you however I want to.”

I close my eyes and pull my lips into a smile. “Oh, yes.”

“I’m going to make you shatter, Selena,” he says, as he takes one hand from my breast. He slips it between my legs, urging my thighs apart as he teases my sex with his fingers. “I want to feel my hands on you when you explode, and I want to know that I’m the one who gave that to you. Every breath, every ripple of pleasure, every ache in your cunt, every bite mark on your back. Me. I did that.”

My body shudders simply from the words and the anticipation of their fulfillment.

“Hold on to the side of the pool,” he orders, and as soon as I comply, he shifts his position and enters me from behind, gently at first, and then with a hard thrust that makes me gasp as water sloshes around us and my vagina clenches around him. I’m sore, but it doesn’t matter. I shift my hips, wanting more and more of him. One of his hands seeks to soothe my need for an additional touch, and it snakes around, finding my breast, squeezing my nipple so hard that it makes my sex clench even tighter around him. And then fingers are teasing their way down, down, until he brushes over my clit and I bite my lower lip in the expectation that, yes, he is going to let me come.

But not yet. This is Justin’s show, Justin’s game. And he is playing by his rules tonight.

Soon, he has withdrawn his cock from my vagina and his hand from my clit. I am bereft, lost without his touch, and I turn in his arms, intending to beg, then grateful to realize that I don’t have to, because he’s pulling me to him once again, demanding that I rise up, that I let the water do the work, that I wrap my legs around him and sink down deeper and deeper on his cock.

His hands on my ass support me, and I gasp in surprise and pleasure as he slides one finger down to our connected bodies, then rims my anus with a finger slick with pool water and my own arousal.

“Everywhere, Selena.” There is a rawness in his voice. A need that seems to edge close to desperation, and as he speaks, he thrusts forward with his hips, at the same time pulling me down, impaling me hard against him even as his finger slips inside my ass.

I am impossibly full and the erotic sensation of having both his cock and finger inside me is almost more than I can handle. But Justin is relentless, and the force of his pounding has edged us backward so that my back scrapes hard against the pool’s edge and the water is as wild as a stormy sea.

“Forever,” he growls. His voice is rough, his actions more so. His thrusts are deep and violent. He is pounding into me, thrusting me wildly against the edge of the pool, my bare back scraping against the stone coping. Between my already sore sex, the assault on my back, and the tender flesh that his finger is so brutally invading, yes, he is hurting me.

I bite my lip because I don’t want to cry out. I don’t know why he needs this, but I know that he does.

Before he was gentle. Even his spanks were inflicted only for the purpose of pleasing me. This, however, is about Justin. Justin taking. Justin needing. It is me that he needs, and I give myself willingly. I am no stranger to pain. It gives me control, something tangible to hold on to. And I can take Justin’s pain and pull it tight inside me like a precious thing.

I think I understand what Justin needs. Not the pain, but the control. He needs to claim me. Maybe he can’t grab hold of the ghosts from his past that have returned to haunt him, but he has me. Right now, I am his to touch and possess. His to claim and use.

His. Simply Justin’s.

His release comes hard and fast, and I wrap my arms tight around his neck until the last shudder rips through him. He softens and slips out of me, first his cock, then his finger. I ease off him and find my footing, leaning back against the edge of the pool and breathing hard.

After a moment, he opens his eyes and looks at me. One moment passes, then another. And then I see the storm approaching. “Goddammit,” he says. “Selena. I—”

“No.” I stroke his cheek. “No,” I repeat. “Don’t you get it? I want to be there for you. All of you. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he is silent. “Did I hurt you?” he finally asks, his voice flat.

“No.” It’s only a little lie. Already the sharp pain has passed. I’m sore, yes, but it’s a pleasant feeling. A reminder of Justin. “No,” I repeat. “You felt wonderful.”

I don’t think he believes me, but he leads me to the steps and out of the pool. We towel off in silence. When I’m dry, he picks me up without asking and carries me back inside. He places me gently onto our bed on the third floor then gets in beside me.

He doesn’t speak, and neither do I. Instead, I move to snuggle against him. I know that he is still disturbed, as much because he thinks he hurt me as because he lost control. I, however, feel the opposite. He’s lost control with me. And that is almost like sharing a secret. The thought makes me smile, and I close my eyes and sigh deeply. Sore, yes, but sweetly content.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep when his soft words wash over me.

“My father intends to go to the dedication.”

“Oh,” I say. It’s all that I can manage, though I am fully awake now, and I rise up onto my elbow to face him.

“I won’t be there. Richter was a balls-out bastard, and I won’t support the decision to honor him, not even in the smallest way.”

“Of course you won’t go.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“I’m glad you have the balls to stand up to your father. I don’t think I could ignore an edict from my mother.”

“I bet you could,” he says. “You’re stronger than you think.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I search his face. “And the tennis center thing is all that’s been bugging you? Truly?”

“Yes,” he says.

Am I imagining the hesitation? Am I so used to Justin’s secrets that I’m seeing them when they’re no longer there?

Yes, he said. And I decide to believe him. At the very least, he has opened a door. But Justin Stark, like this house, has many rooms, and I can’t help but wonder how many doors remain shut and locked.

6

I wake in the morning to the scent of brewing coffee and fresh-baked croissants, and when I peel my eyes open I find Justin beside the bed holding a tray, which I immediately identify as the source of those mouthwatering scents. “What’s all this?” I ask.

“A woman heading off to the first day of a new job deserves breakfast in bed,” he says, setting the tray across my lap as soon as I’ve sat up and scooted back.

I take a sip of the coffee, then sigh as the elixir begins to work its magic. “What time is it?”

“Just past six,” he says, and I stifle a groan. “When are you supposed to be at work?”

“Ten,” I say. “Bruce is having me start on a Friday since it’s going to be a day of paperwork and getting my feet wet. Probably the last truly relaxing week I’ll have for a long time. Monday, I’ll be dragging myself in by eight, I’m sure.”

“Don’t even pretend to complain. You know you love it.” He sits on the bed beside me and takes a sip from my mug. I don’t think he even realizes that he’s done it, but I can’t help but smile at the casual intimacy.

As for loving the work, he’s right. I’d moved to Los Angeles less than a month ago planning to take the tech world by storm. My job at Carl’s company, C-Squared, turned out to be a bust, but I’m giddy about my new position at Innovative Resources, a company that does equally fine work with a less psychotic boss.

I spread some strawberry jam on the croissant and take a bite, surprised to find that it’s warm and flaky and just about melts in my mouth. “Where did you get fresh croissants?” I cannot believe that his morning jog took him into town. And these are not heated-up frozen pastries.

“Edward,” Justin says, referring to his driver.

“Thank him for me.”

“You can thank him yourself. Unless you’re planning to walk to work, he’ll be giving you a lift.”

“Not you?”

“While I would love to carpool with you, I’m afraid that’s not possible today.” He leans close and I expect a kiss. Instead, his hand closes over mine and he very deliberately brings the croissant to his mouth and takes a bite. He grins at me, his eyes dancing like a mischievous child. “You’re right,” he says. “Delicious.”

“You owe me now, mister. You can’t expect to steal a woman’s pastry and get away with it.”

“I look forward to your just and severe punishment,” he says, standing. He holds out his hand to me. “Or perhaps I could make it up to you in the shower.”

“I don’t think so,” I say archly. “I don’t want to be late for my first day.”

“I thought you weren’t due in until ten.”

I nod as I finish the croissant and wash it down with another slug of coffee. “I’m not. But I need to get home and get dressed.” I shoot him a wicked smile. “And I need to shower off last night’s sex.”

“That’s a very sad thought,” he says. “Of course, if you insist on taking such drastic action, I did offer to share my shower.”

I look him up and down. He’s clean-shaven and dressed in neatly pressed slacks and his usual white button-down shirt. His jacket is laid across the foot of the bed, and I can even smell the soapy fresh scent of him. “Looks like you managed just fine without me,” I say.

“Never.” The word is heavy with meaning. “And for you I’m willing to get doubly clean.”

“Tempting,” I admit as I push the tray away and slide out of bed. The air is cool, but it feels good against my still Justin-sensitive skin. “But don’t you have work to do? Things to merge? Cutting-edge technology to acquire? Perhaps a galaxy to purchase?”

He holds a robe open for me to slip on. It’s not the red one that I soaked in the pool, and I wonder how many robes he has stocked in that closet. “I did that last week. Apparently there’s nothing left to buy.”

“Poor you.” I twist in his arms and plant a gentle kiss on his chin as he tightens the sash around my waist. “Just like Alexander. No worlds left to conquer.”

He slides his hand up my silk-covered arm and I shiver from the touch. “I assure you that I am very content with my conquests.” The heated look in his eyes shifts to something more calculating. “Although you are right. I have a day full of meetings in Palm Springs starting at eight.”

I gape at him. “And you were offering me a shower? What would you have done if I’d taken you up on that?”

“I would have enjoyed myself very much, I assure you.”

“And been late for the meeting.”

“I’m rather confident they can’t start without me. That is not, however, an excuse to be late.”

As if on cue, a loud rush fills my ears and the house seems to vibrate. “What is—”

“My ride,” Justin says as a helicopter appears below the roofline and continues its descent below the balcony.

I hurry outside and watch as the helicopter lands on a flat, grassy area of the yard.

I turn and look at Justin. “What?” I say. “You couldn’t afford a proper helipad?”

“On the contrary, you’re looking at a state-of-the-art, eco-friendly, reinforced turf landing platform.”

I blink at him. “Seriously?”

“It’s quite revolutionary, I assure you. The ground is prepped with a high-tensile-strength mesh system that creates an anchored root system providing a surface area with remarkable load-bearing capacity. And because the Malibu hills are prone to mudslides, I’ve taken additional precautions and strengthened the area with a buried grid system into which that root area blends. The result is pretty damned impressive.”

“If you do say so yourself.”

He smirks. “I’m afraid this isn’t one of my projects. Not yet, anyway. I’ve begun talks with the company that holds the patent on the mesh technology.”

“To acquire the company?”

“Perhaps. Or maybe I’ll simply be a silent partner.” He fixes me with a steady look. “Not all of my business ventures involve my fingers in the pie.”

I ignore the unstated message. I want the million that I earned posing for the portrait in order to seed my business—a business I intend to kick into gear once I feel like I’m ready. Justin wants to help me—and he thinks I’m ready now. It’s not a discussion that I’m diving back into now, but he presses on.

“You’re ready, Selena. You can do this.”

“Surprisingly, I think I’m a better judge of my ability than you are,” I say, more sharply than I intend.

“Willingness, yes. Ability, no. That’s a much more objective criterion, and I see more clearly than you do. You’re too close to the subject in question. Let’s examine the evidence, shall we?”

I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him, but he presses on.

“You already have two reasonably profitable smartphone apps on the market, fully designed, marketed, and supported by you and you alone. You accomplished that entrepreneurial feat when you were still in college, so that in and of itself indicates the kind of self-sufficiency a successful business owner needs. Your degrees in electrical engineering and computer science are only icing on the cake, but your invitation into PhD programs at both MIT and CalTech demonstrate that I’m not the only one who sees your worth.”

“But I turned down the programs.”

“So that you could work in the real world and gain experience.”

I can see that I’m not going to win this argument, so I do the only thing I can do—I ignore it and kiss him gently on the cheek. “Your car pool’s here, Mr. Stark. You don’t want to be late for homeroom.” I turn to head inside, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back. His kiss is long and deep and makes my knees go weak, but Justin considerately holds me up so that I don’t collapse in a puddle on the flagstone tiles.

“What was that for?” I breathe when he releases me.

“A reminder that I believe in you,” he says.

“Oh.” His voice is filled with so much pride and confidence that I wish I could soak it up like a drug.

“And a promise of things to come,” he adds with a sexy curve to his lips. “I’ll call you when I get back. I’m not sure how late I’ll be.”

“The helicopter’s not as speedy as it looks?” I tease.

“More like my colleagues don’t conduct business as expediently as I’d like.”

“No prob. I should have dinner with Jamie tonight, anyway. I’ve been a best friend in absentia lately.” I start to pull away, but his fingers tighten around mine. “What?”

“I don’t want to go.” His grin is boyish, and I laugh with delight. Justin is so many things, and I am falling hard for all of them.

“But if you don’t, then how can I spend the day looking forward to having you back?”

“You’re a very wise woman,” he says, then presses a fresh kiss to my lips. “Until tonight.”

7

Edward greets me outside by the door of a gracious silver and burgundy car that looks like it belongs on Masterpiece Theatre. “New car?”

“No, ma’am,” Edward says. “Mr. Stark rebuilt her about three years ago.”

“Really?” I look the car over, wondering when on earth Justin found the time. I try to imagine him under the chassis, his hands dirty and a spot of grease on his nose. Surprisingly, it’s an easier picture to conjure than I would have imagined. As I’ve seen time and again, Justin can do pretty much anything. And look damn good doing it, too.

As for looking damn good, the car certainly fits that bill. It’s all soft curves and flowing lines, the epitome of automotive class and grace. It’s almost a crime that Edward wears a simple suit instead of livery, and it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if his voice took on a British tinge.

He is oblivious to the way my mind is wandering. “We normally reserve the Bentley for formal occasions, but Mr. Stark thought you might enjoy arriving at your new position in style.”

As he speaks, the helicopter rises from behind the house, far enough away that it barely kicks up a breeze. It’s too far for me to see Justin, but I lift my hand anyway and wave a silent thank-you.

“I need to go home, actually. Not work. But Mr. Stark was right about the rest,” I say as I slide past Edward into the car. “I’m definitely going to enjoy this ride.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Stark was very clear that I am to see you safely to your office.”

“Was he?” I consider pulling out my cell phone and giving Justin a piece of my mind, but that would ultimately change nothing. I consider my options and then nod. “Fine,” I finally say, pushing my irritation aside. “But I do have to go home first.”

“Of course, Ms. Fairchild.” He shuts the door, and I’m snug in a leather and wood cocoon, breathing in the scent of luxury.

The windows, I notice, are not electric but instead operate with old-fashioned knobs that appear to be mahogany and are polished to a sheen. The white leather seat is as soft as butter, and the seat back in front of me actually has a tray table. I defy convention and release it from its full upright and locked position. It eases down to form a perfectly positioned writing surface. I’m suddenly overcome with a longing for a quill pen and parchment.

“What year is the car?” I ask Edward as he maneuvers us down the drive.

“It’s a 1960 S2 Saloon,” he says. “Only 388 were produced, and I’m afraid there are very few still on the road. When Mr. Stark ran across this one in a junkyard, he was determined to bring it back to its former glory.”

I’m not at all certain what Justin would have been doing in a junkyard, but it takes no effort whatsoever to imagine his determination. What Justin wants, Justin gets, be it a classic car, a Santa Barbara hotel, or me.

I run my finger over the varnished surface of the desk, the motion reminding me of my earlier whimsy. “You don’t happen to have a paper and pen up there, do you?”

“Certainly,” Edward says. He leans over and pulls something out of the glove box, then passes a folio back to me. I open it and find a fountain pen and heavy linen stationery monogrammed with DJS—Justin’s initials.

I hesitate. I hadn’t really expected that Edward would have the things I asked for, and now that I’m faced with the prospect of putting my thoughts on paper, I am suddenly tongue-tied. Or finger-tied, as the case may be.

But this is too sweet an opportunity to squander, so I draw a breath, put the nib of the pen on the paper, and begin to write.

My very dear Mr. Stark,

Before I met you, I never gave any thought to the sensual nature of an automobile. But now, once again, I am surrounded by soft leather, snug in the warm embrace of this graceful, powerful vehicle. It is heady stuff, and I—

I continue to write, pouring out my teasing phrases through the intimate flow of ink onto paper. As I watch my precise handwriting fill the page, I almost regret the tech revolution. How wonderful to have received a letter from a lover. To open it and see his heart on the page, his handwriting bold and strong. There’s an immediacy to texts and emails that can’t be denied, but the intimacy of a letter really can’t be replicated.

By the time Edward pulls up in front of the condo that I share with Jamie in Studio City, I have finished the note. I fold it neatly, slide it into the matching envelope I find in the folio pocket, seal it, and print my return address on the top left corner. I realize then that I don’t know the street address of Justin’s Malibu house. Odd, considering how much time I’ve been spending there. But it doesn’t matter. The letter will reach him just as easily at his office building, which is also where his downtown apartment is located. I print his name and address neatly across the center of the envelope:

Justin Stark, CEO     

Stark International      

Stark Tower, Penthouse

S. Grand Avenue        

Los Angeles, CA 90071

I can’t remember the street number for the tower, but under the circumstances I imagine that the post office can deal. I find a stamp in my wallet and affix it to the envelope. Then I slip out of the car and smile at Edward. “I need to shower and change and grab a few things. I might be a while.”

“That won’t be a problem,” he says, and as I head toward the stairs, he slips back behind the wheel.

I feel absolutely no guilt whatsoever about my plan. Edward undoubtedly has an audiobook, and it’s not as if he needs to go back to Malibu in order to drive Justin around. By the time he realizes that I have snuck down the back stairs to my own car, I imagine he’ll have gotten in quite a bit of quality time with whatever book he’s enjoying.

I slide the letter through the outgoing mail slot before I hurry up the stairs to the condo, calculating the time I have to shower and change and get to the office. Traffic was worse than Edward had expected—there was a wreck on the 405—and I am going to be more rushed than I’d intended. I know I could have simply worn one of the zillion outfits that Justin has stocked for me, but this new job is my territory. And silly or not, I want to wear my own clothes and drive my own car.

I expect to find the door unlocked, because Jamie never remembers to lock the damn thing, so I’m surprised to find both the dead bolt and the knob locked up tight.

I dig my keys out of my purse, then frown as I enter the dark apartment. She’s probably asleep, and I hope that she’s alone. She probably is. Though Jamie drags men home like stray cats, she routinely kicks them out once they’ve given her bedsprings a thorough shaking. It’s dangerous and I worry, because it’s almost become a game with her. Unlike the games I play with Justin, though, I don’t think there’s any sort of safeword for Jamie.

Her door is closed, and I consider passing by. But this is my first day at work, and I want to see my best friend.

I tap lightly on the door, then lean close to listen. I expect either a groan or a startled apology followed by a rush to the door and a hug for me on my first day. But there’s only silence.

“James?” I tap harder, but there’s still no answer. I take hold of the knob and turn, trying to both look and not look, just in case she finally let the guy she dragged home stay for the entire night.

But the room is both dark and empty. I tell myself not to worry. Jamie probably just had somewhere to be this morning. Or else she crashed somewhere after a night of partying. Except I don’t really believe either of those explanations. Jamie’s not an early riser, and she rarely stays overnight anywhere. She’s not the kind to crash on a couch—she likes the comforts of home too much.

I hope I’m overreacting, but I pull out my phone and tap out a text. Where r u? Do I need to send out a search party?

I wait, staring at the screen, but my phone stays silent.

Well, shit.

I call, but the phone rolls over to voice mail.

Now my stomach really is in knots. I can’t call the police—I may not watch much television, but I’ve watched enough to know that they won’t do a thing unless it’s been twenty-four hours. I almost dial Justin, but my finger hesitates over his name. There might be nothing that he can do, but if I’m worried, I’m almost positive that he’ll cut his meeting short and come to me no matter how much I protest. He may be firmly perched on a white steed in my mind, but I am most definitely not a damsel in distress, and really don’t want to be.

Fine. Okay. No problem. Jamie’s probably just in the shower, which is where I need to be. I’ll shower and change, and if she hasn’t called me back by the time I’m ready to head downtown, I’ll call and text her again. And if she still doesn’t answer, I’ll call Ollie. I don’t know what he could do, but as my other best friend, I’m allowed to call him in a crisis. And with Ollie, my odds of interrupting a billion-dollar summit are significantly lessened.

Most important though—and as much as I hate to admit it—there’s a possibility that they’re together. They slept together one time that I know of. And though Jamie swears it was a singular event—and though Ollie has assured me that he’s been otherwise faithful to his fiancée—I’m not certain that I really believe either one of them.

My doubts weigh on me, because Jamie and Ollie are my two best friends, and I don’t like the way their tryst has clouded up things among the three of us.

I’m frustrated as I head into my own bedroom and toss the phone onto my bed, barely missing Lady Meow-Meow, who has blended in so well with my white duvet I don’t see her. She lifts her head in sleepy protest, stares at me until I apologize, and then promptly goes back to sleep.

Apparently our cat doesn’t share my concern about Jamie’s whereabouts.

Partly because I’m running late, and partly because I don’t want to be away from the phone that long, I rush through my shower. I towel-dry my hair until it’s damp, then use some gel to twist a few curls into place. I’ve discovered that it’s much easier to take care of shoulder-length hair than the tresses that used to fall midway down my back. Not that I want to repeat my meltdown, but on this small point, I think it worked out okay.

I wrap a towel around me, then open the door to our tiny bathroom. A cloud of steam escapes ahead of me, and I follow it out, then jump about a foot when I hear the sharp crash of ceramic shattering against the tile kitchen floor.

For an instant, I’m terrified, imagining intruders and boogey-men and God knows what. But what would have been a scream breaks into a relieved burst of laughter when I hear Jamie’s voice cutting sharply through the apartment. “Oh, fuck a duck! Selena! I just killed your favorite coffee mug!”

“I’m right here,” I call, hurrying down the two stairs, my back to our tiny dining area as I face Jamie in the kitchen.

She looks at me oddly, probably because I’m still laughing. She holds up the handle of my Dallas Cowboys mug. The rest of the shattered blue ceramic is scattered on the tile at her feet. “Sorry,” she says.

“It’s okay.” I’m still laughing. I don’t know why. Relief, I guess.

“It was a ridiculous favorite, anyway,” she says, as if I’m giving her grief about the mug. “You don’t even like football.”

“It was big,” I said. “It could hold hot chocolate and marshmallows without the chocolate dribbling over the side when you stick a spoon in.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point of drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows if you’re going to be all prissy about it?”

I can’t argue with that, so I don’t. Instead I shove my feet into a pair of flip-flops that are by the stairs, then step gingerly into the kitchen to get the small broom and dustpan I put under the sink after I moved in.

“Thanks,” she says, then rolls her eyes when I hand the broom to her. “Okay.” She sighs. “Fine.”

As she squats down, much better dressed for the job in jeans than I am in my towel, I ask where she’s been. “I was worried,” I admit. “Did you sleep somewhere else?”

“Shit no.” She brushes the last of the mug splinters into the dustpan, then tilts her head to aim a cat-ate-the-canary grin up at me. “I may have stayed out all night, but I didn’t sleep.” Her dreamy grin fades and she peers hard at me. “And you? Because it seems to me your bed’s not getting all that much action lately. Pretty soon you’re going to have to sign the poor thing up for therapy. Loneliness can lead to depression, you know.”

“I’ll get right on that,” I say dryly. “And as a matter of fact, no. I wasn’t here, either.”

“Uh-huh.”

I hold my hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say a word,” I point out. “But if I were going to say something, it would only be that when I stay out all night it’s with the same guy. You have so many different men you should start a Facebook page just to keep track of them.”

“Not a bad plan, actually. Except that I think this guy might be something special.”

I gape. “Seriously?”

“Totally. He’s not as fuckalicious as Justin-king-of-the-world-Stark, but I wouldn’t run screaming from a repeat performance. Or even a triple play, for that matter.”

This is as close as I’ve ever heard Jamie get to discussing a relationship. To say I’m bowled over would be an understatement. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that on me when I’m running late. So come on. We can talk while I get dressed.”

dy> <T 2A

[mxwhore]

bit sad beginning of the year ngl