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#go read the fic!!!! i lost my mind its so so good!!!!!!!!! thanks again jane for commissioning me i had too much fun 😂 doing this

wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Text

Teeth || Demetri Volturi x Reader ||

A request from @volturidoll13 that is continued from this headcanon right here ——-> Demetri Reacting to a Stimming Reader <——-. I hope I’ve done you justice once more with this one chickadee :D </b>

Part 2: This fic

Part 3: Control (fic)

Warnings: TW for anxiety. Readers stimming will stem from anxiety, if you are having a rough time with yours right now be careful reading this one, and please know you’re not alone! I guess maybe a warning for biting to? There’s some biting going on.

Words: 2620

Summary: It’s been a little over two months since Demetri discovered your stimming. He’s remained vigilant ever since, keeping your anxiety at bay with a whole host of tips and tricks he’s learned over the course of your time together. The one thing he cannot stop is the march of time, and yours is running out fast…

You weren’t sure what had made you so nervous back then, why Demetri finding about your autism was such a big deal, why you were so afraid your stimming would be an issue between you both, that your anxiety and it’s side effects would somehow ruin his perception of you. In reality, telling Demetri the whole truth had been the best thing you had ever done. His sensitivity was astounding to you, because he really was diligent in checking in with you and keeping things as calm as possible in your now shared room – your baths had become a now weekly occurrence. He never treated you like you were made of porcelain either despite all his little interventions, no, he whole-heartedly encouraged your every attempt to explore and integrate yourself into the Volturi with your new found confidence, but when you needed the support he was always prepared.

Your newfound confidence came with a price.

After just a week of venturing out of your shared room you had been called to the throne room, a terrifying moment in itself given you had met them only once before to explain why you hadn’t been bleeding out with the rest of your tour group on the floor, and Aro had taken your hand with a sickly smile before joyfully exclaiming something in Italian you had had no idea how to go about translating. That was two months ago, and now you had only a single month left to live before you joined them in their immortality, perpetually frozen as you were, never moving forward, never evolving. The concept was terrifying given the stories you’d heard of newborns. You didn’t want to hurt people or be that volatile little newborn who became violent on a whim. You didn’t want to feel the inferno in your throat begging you to commit unspeakable acts of cruelty against a race you were currently still apart of.

A month left of mortality.

A month left before you became someone entirely new.

Felix’s sudden grunt snapped you out of that particular reverie, and you blinked at the bright sunlight invading your eyes despite the shade you had situated yourself in under a twisted old red maple, planted in Didyme’s honour oh so long ago and still going strong thanks to Aro’s tender loving care. They had chosen to sit beneath the branches simply because it made their skin sparkle less, which was far easier on your eyes and far less distracting since you had a tendency to try and rub off Demetri’s sparkles, like they were glitter on his skin you could just remove. Jane was smiling at your giant friend, whose teeth were clenched tight before he suddenly relaxed and shot her a glare.

“Now now children play nicely.” Demetri chided from beside you. He’d been sat a while, smoothly redirecting conversation from you when he saw your attention falter. You had been zoning in and out a lot the past few days, your mind clearly elsewhere. He’d kept half an eye on you as the twins debated a book they’d been reading the past week, Felix teasing them as was his usual manner until Jane caved to the temptation to cripple him with her trademarked glare. You clearly were not okay, but you hadn’t come to him to say as such just yet, so he’d not pressured you into talking. Perhaps after this afternoon he should? You usually jumped at any chance you got to spend time with them all, enjoying the social interaction after the long days you spent either studying Italian or with them absent performing duties you would soon help them undertake.

“What do you think Y/N? You said you’d read The Hunger Games before, what do you think of the idea that the death of Primrose is symbolic of the death of the last of Katniss’s innocence?” Alec questioned. The boy was equally as perceptive as Demetri, having found himself insatiably curious since the day Demetri had quietly spoken with them about it to ensure they didn’t harass you, and consequently had gone on to read everything he could get his hands on about your condition. It was painfully obvious to all of them your head wasn’t in the conversation but none of them brought it up, instead finding ways to lead you seamlessly back into the group when you wandered off. Your brows furrowed as you tried to think over Alec’s question, but your mind was pulled in too many directions at once. You were so focused on the dark thoughts swirling around your future immortality that your mind struggled to conjure the image of the book cover, never mind its contents.

“Erm…I don’t really…she lost it way before that.” You stumbled your way through the answer and it was audible to everyone there the way your teeth clanked together when your jaw clenched. You did your best not to flinch as Demetri cast you a concerned glance. You’d been doing that a lot, your teeth gnashing and grinding as you clenched your jaw over and over. It was a tic he had seen before, though not quite as frequently as this, and it set alarm bells ringing in his head as a thousand articles and memories hit him full force. Alec hummed, not looking entirely like he agreed with you while Jane grinned, triumph in her eyes.

“Ha! See brother, I told you!” she didn’t seemingly notice the way you flinched, teeth gnashing audibly once more at her exclamation. Alec’s face was immediately taken over by a scowl, and the pair were bickering once more while Felix watched on with obvious amusement. Demetri had given you his sole attention instead, tuning out their argument to instead take notice of the way the muscles in your jaw moved, your gaze distant and entirely unfocused as you lost yourself to your thoughts again. He didn’t actually think you were aware of the way your hand moved until he gently snatched it mid-air. You blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the frozen fingers clasped around your wrist, centimetres from your open mouth that you quickly snapped closed. Demetri made no comment after that, sliding his hand up to intertwine your fingers together and squeeze your palm lightly.

You squeezed back with a weak smile, mentally already berating yourself for your behaviour. You hadn’t even noticed you were about to bite yourself but now you had you could feel the way your jaw ached, the entire lower part of your jaw tense from the amount your stimming had overworked it that afternoon. Demetri soothingly ran his thumb in circles over your knuckles but even his cool touch wasn’t enough to drag you from your misery today. You had less than a month to live and there was so much you wouldn’t get to do after that. You had always wanted to travel to try some of your favourite foods in their home contexts – you could only imagine how good authentic Chinese food would taste. You wanted to sleep in a five-star hotel just to see what a memory foam mattress might do to improve your sleep.

It was all trivial stuff (you were painfully aware since Caius had told you so when you’d brought it up) but they were simple things for your bucket list, you dared not even consider the big dreams you had because they would be impossible once you were-

“Ah ah ah.” Demetri caught your hand again. He still held one in his grip but the other had whipped up to make it’s way into your mouth. You completely disregarded his warning, a burning need inside of you driving your head forward in an effort to clamp your teeth around your finger, sure in the knowledge it would bring some relief if you could manage it. Demetri didn’t let you, and your head quickly turned for his hand instead. He didn’t comment when your teeth almost broke trying to break through his skin. You immediately recoiled, both horrified and mortified at what you had done, but despite the fact you wouldn’t meet his eyes, Demetri pulled you close to his chest and kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“What have I told you about apologising to me about this?” he tutted, lifting your chin with one of his index fingers. He quickly had to let go when your hand flashed up to your mouth again, desperate to chew down on something.

“To stop apologising. Sor-er…I…” you cringed, the apology ready to fall from your lips but your fear of disappointing him latching it’s claws into you and making you bite down on your tongue instead.

“You never need to apologise to me for this my love, I love every part of you, even the parts of you you struggle to love yourself.” Demetri assured you quietly. Your teeth began to grind once more because what if he didn’t see you that same way after your change? What if your crimson eyes and still heart were abhorrent to him since he revered your human-self so much?

“Can we go?” you mumbled, your head spinning with all the worrisome thoughts tumbling about it. Demetri searched your face briefly as he nodded, very well aware that this wasn’t something he could encourage you to keep fighting and you needed to tap out now and recover.

“Of course. Excuse us you three.” He glanced to them briefly, knowing they’d have heard your quiet conversation anyway so to lie would be pointless. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them, too embarrassed by your stimming today to meet their eyes. You’d bitten your vampire mate in front of them, after all.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, keeping your head down as you walked along beside him. Demetri hadn’t let go of one of your hands, squeezing gently every now and then to try and encourage you to channel your anxiety into your hand instead of your mouth. Perhaps he ought to buy you a stressball? You’d liked the last one, though it had disappeared somewhere around the castle and sadly, his gift only worked on people and not tracking down inanimate objects.

“Don’t thank me yet, might I give you some advice?” he enquired. You looked up at him, your expression inviting him warily to speak, though you weren’t sure what he could add since this was your lived experience, and one he had only read about. “As you go to bite down open your mouth a fraction wider, it will allow you to clamp your teeth into a wider surface area and hold your prey stiller.” He advised, half a smirk dancing on his lips. He was failing abysmally at trying to hide it.

“I – excuse me?” you were somewhat astonished he’d given you advice on how to bite yourself better. What happened to your caring mate? The one who did his best to help you calm your anxiety. The one who held your hand on nights it felt like you couldn’t breathe?

“I thought it would be sound advice,” he said, giving up on his efforts now to fight back his smirk, “As my little vampire in training, you need to know how to bite down properly. If I had been your prey just now I would have easily escaped, and you would be left hungry.” You stopped stock still, eyes bugging a bit in your head as your brain just…stopped working.

“What…did you just call me?” you asked. Demetri had walked on ahead as if nothing was wrong, but he paused to turn back towards you now with a shit-eating grin on his face, crimson eyes sparkling.

“My little vampire in training. Unless of course, you would prefer puppy? They chew on things to, no?” he tilted his head at you while your jaw dropped. Just for a brief moment there was clarity in your head, the sheer absurdity of his comment punching through all your anxious thoughts. You felt you should be insulted, was it an insult? Coming from someone other than Demetri maybe it would be but this was the man who listened to every little thought in your head, wiped away every tear and held you while you cried. No, Demetri could never do you harm, whether it was with words or fists he was bound to protect you always, he was incapable of insulting you meaningfully.

“Your little – Demetri!” you scolded. God did your jaw ache. He chuckled.

“Alright alright forgive me…though can I say, I feared your bite far more than Felix’s.” he held out his hand to you and you automatically sidled up to slip your palm against his, Demetri turning you both back in the direction of your shared room before you began to walk once more.

“Felix’s has bitten you?” you asked, your curiosity sparked.

“Oh yes. You see, when I first joined the Guard Felix was assigned to my combat training. He won every round. I, however, am a quick learner, and once I began to pick up his teachings I won my first spar against him quite easily…and the one after that, and the one after that…he gets bitey when he loses.” He revealed. You bit your lip, fighting back a smile as you imagine the hulking man tossed onto his back by your own, lithe tracker. It was a funny enough sight in itself, but adding the image of him lunging with teeth barred to gnaw on your mate was even funnier. It should have been frightening but you knew the gentle giant too well to think he would ever attack his comrades with any malicious intent.

“Alec best watch his back then, he’s getting close to Felix’s high score on Crash Bandicoot.” You mused. Demetri snorted briefly.

“Yet another fun story…Alec once locked himself in his room for three whole days when Jane picked up one of his games and completed a level he’d been stuck on for weeks on her first try.” He told you. Your smile grew a little wider, stretching across your face as you imagined the calmer witch twin throwing said hissy fit. Demetri continued his stories long after you entered your room, laying on his side with you opposite him as he regaled you with one story after another. Aro had once dropped a book on his foot after a late night of studying, looked around to ensure nobody had seen, and stuffed it back on the shelf so fast he had placed it back upside down. Jane had a beautiful singing voice but had been startled so badly by Felix interrupting her once she’d slipped right up the scale on the last word and tortured poor Felix for a whole hour straight for ruining her song.

Story after story you listened, enraptured by his smooth baritone while he played with your hair, soothing your turbulent mind as you focused on his words and his words alone. You might wake up tomorrow and find you were once more trapped in the cycle of anxiety that you were hard-pressed to escape one it got you in it’s clutches, or maybe this blessed moment of relief would last and tomorrow you would be free once more for a little bit longer until the next moment something you felt was too big too manage came along. For today, Demetri had lulled you to sleep against his side, your breathing slow and even for the first time that day. Whatever you had to face next, whatever challenges might come your way, you knew on your worst days Demetri would always be with you to help you overcome them, armed with all the latest mummyblog advice for you to rebuke.

#demetri volturi #tw anxiety #tw biting #demetri volturi x reader #jane volturi #alec volturi #felix volturi #volturi guard #twilight #twilight fanfiction #stimming #i gave my flatmate an aneurysm with this one haha #she studies english literature #she was not impressed with my hottake on katniss #I digress #I imagined Felix looking like puss in boots when his eyes go big when I wrote that bit about him biting demetri #it's been a long week

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shnuggletea · 4 years

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Head up, smoots below!

So I know this is late but it was this or nothing yeah? Anyway here is my Pride for Sins week!

If you don’t want the lemons, read it on Fanfiction or AO3 as they are edited. I know most don’t care but I KNOW I have a few readers that aren’t into lemons and I didn’t have any warnings. I wasn’t sure I was going to do smoots. I wanted them but I wasn’t sure I’d get them in. That’s the main reason this is late actually, it takes longer to write a lemon than a clean chapter lmao.

It’s also on my Patreon for free in it’s full glory so if you have preferences, I have given you many choices I think, yeah? And don’t forget to check out the collection! It’s where you can easily find all the Sins Week contributions. Art, fics, it’s amazing!

Lovely Sins Art by @clearwillow! Thank you to the mods; @lemonlushff, @neutronstarchild, and @ruddcatha!

Also, I made a playlist. I know no one really ever looks at these but it’s my thing okay, let it go! LOL! This is me procrastinating btw.... it’s here if you wanna take a listen.

TAG WALL!!!!!

@underwater0phelia@lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows@superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan@cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere@inusgirl @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac@faolenwolf @classyhumanathletepalace @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92@storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @lilms-obsessed@petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess@theschultinator @all-too-ale @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen@queenofthesquirps @inusgirl @jolinaaa00 @knowall7k @neutronstarchild@fawn-eyed-girl @eringobroke @sapphirestarxx @clearwillow @dangerouspompadour @anxietyaardvark @bluejay785 @arcprz @whoisresponsible @zelink-inukag @lady-dark-69

“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

None of us said a word the whole way back to our apartment. Kikyo was still with us, walking in behind Inuyasha and I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her to get the fuck out. If she was staying, then I had no problem spending the rest of the night in my room. I already had high hopes for doing that.

We made it to the living room before, shockingly, Kagome turned on Kikyo. “You need to go home…”

Before she could finish, Kikyo jumped on her. “You guys are overreacting! I was helping them! Doing something good for them! You’re both just too full of yourselves to see it!”

Kagome was calm to a point that it was scaring me. Slowly shaking her head at Kikyo she took her time and chose her words wisely. Something I never would have had the willpower to do in a million years. “I get that you think that, that you think you were helping them but…”

“I was!!!” Kikyo spat, cutting Kagome off again “Don’t you get it? These guys, they’re vir...gins. As in pure and innocent?! That’s the last thing you want and what they wanted, not knowing their way around a woman’s body? I was helping the two of you out too…”

This time, Kagome cut off Kikyo and it was not pretty. “You did exactly what you wanted to as always, Kikyo. They’re our mates, not yours but you’re so determined to make them into the men you think they should be that you’ve lost your own mate.” I was sure Kagome had never yelled at Kikyo that way. It was honest and it was clear Kikyo’s pride was broken getting scalded in front of so many. Kagome sighed and grabbed her shoulders tight. “You need to go home because Naraku is waiting for you there. Go talk to him, please.”

Leaving it at that as well as the rest of us, Kagome went to her room and we all stood there awkwardly for a moment. Kikyo silently sulked towards the door so I went for mine. Last thing I wanted was to be left alone with Inuyasha and Miroku.

Fully planning on getting my shower, I made it across my room to my hamper before I was no longer alone. I knew it was Miroku. Process of elimination as well as just knowing. “Just because you spent the day watching naked women shake their asses at you doesn’t mean I’m okay with you seeing me naked too. Get out!”

I refused to look at him, keeping my back to him and trying to get my shaking under control. Everything hurt and I wanted a hot shower even more. It had been a long day and the sun was only now heading for bed. The bright orange light filled my room with light and silence as he chewed on my words. He was still there, the door hadn’t squeaked like it always did when opened. Even if it didn’t do that, I knew he was there.

I could feel him.

That, above everything else, bothered me the most. It was clear we were connected to each other. The cocky man behind me was my soulmate and he was going to break me. It was inevitable. If my past had taught me anything it was that men like him use you up and spit you out. And I was tied to him? How was any of this fair, we should have never done that stupid spell!!

“Kikyo…” his voice was soft and unexpected, making me shiver at the sound of it, “she was only trying to help.”

I laughed hollowly and watched as I twisted my fingers together painfully. “Help. Right. All she did was help me to see your real needs.”

He took a step closer. I knew not because I heard it or saw it. I could feel that he was closer to me and my skin began to heat up in an unpleasant manner. “She was right. You are nothing but hubris. You think because I am your Mate that there is no work required to be together when all you’ve been is work for me.”

The knife he planted in my back, right in my heart, caused a numbness to slowly spread across my body. Now, his nearness didn’t burn at all.

I felt nothing.

“Then she did help you. Helped you to escape ‘the work’ of being with me as I want nothing to do with you anymore. We’re done.” He was still there though and the last thing I wanted was to give him another pair of breasts to look at and compare. So I faced him, planning to strip in the bathroom and his eyes were dull and lifeless. “You should just go back to where you came from.”

I made it to the bathroom in one piece, stripping as if my life depended on it. Because I felt like I might freeze to death if I didn’t get in the warm water soon. The hot water helped but I felt like I was getting sick. Having a demon from unknown origins touch you all over had to spread germs, right?

The stream had chilled so I turned up the heat when my curtain squealed back on the rod. I squealed too, covering all I could of my front and backing up into the corner for the rest. Miroku ignored me, stepping into the shower, naked as when I met him.

“What are you doing?! Get out!!!!”

He continued to ignore me, stepping into my water and getting good and wet. His hair free, I watched with trance like fascination as it dampened and stuck to his skin. The black made his skin look a little paler and I found myself looking at other parts, like his shoulders to start. Then his chest, wide and thick. Then his belly which wasn’t rippled like Inuyasha’s but soft and comfortable looking. But then I wrenched my eyes to the ceiling.

Don’t look at his penis, don’t look at his penis, don’t look at his….

“You can look, you know? You’ve seen it before and I really don’t mind.”

He was smirking, watching me and I glowered back. “Finish your shower and get out.”

Miroku clucked his fucking tongue at me and I nearly pounced on the cocky bastard. “That’s not very nice. But I know you don’t mean it.”

“I do!!!”

Chuckling, he shook his head at me and grabbed my elbow. It was either release my breasts and push him back or let him fold me into him. So I let him pull me in, unable to allow him the satisfaction of my naked body. I looked at the wall while he looked down at me, his hot breath warmer than the water we stood in as he panted on me. “Sango… why are you clinging so hard to your ego?”

Scoffing, I tried to step back but he held firm. “It’s not my ego, it’s you! How am I supposed to even look at you without seeing a naked woman on your lap?”

“By evening the odds.” Now I looked at him, utterly confused. “How many men have you had? Before we met, how many men have you slept with?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“I see. So it’s a lot?”

I slapped him then slapped myself when I covered my chest again. “That’s not the point! I didn’t know you yet!”

Biting my lip at my slip, I let him digest my words but he didn’t take long. “How am I supposed to function? Knowing that you’ll be comparing me to all those men? I have no experience, Sango. You are my first everything.”

“Not your first breasts!” I spat venomously.

It wasn’t fair and I knew it but I couldn’t stop myself. Miroku was right, my pride had been wounded. Before, I would have had no problem stripping for him and showing him all of my body. If I had known he was a virgin, I wouldn’t have hesitated, all my body issues would have melted away knowing he would have nothing to compare me to. But now? He had a hell of a lot to compare. And it was all fresh in his mind.

Grabbing my chin, I was forced to look at him. But once I met his dark blue eyes I felt trapped, unable or willing to look anywhere else. “If there is one thing I’ve learned today, it’s that no one is as beautiful as you, Sango.” I huffed as his cheesy line but he frowned. “No one.”

His mouth crashed to mine and my body reacted, wrapping around him just like an octopus. He wrapped around me as well, bending me back with his passion as he kissed the hell out of me. But the wicked thoughts remained in my head as he ran his hands over my back to my ass. Like what he thought of its size? The dips of cellulite? Was my skin smooth enough or tight enough? It was enough for me to push and pull from him, backing up into my corner again and catching my breath.

Now he could look at me fully, standing a good distance from him. I had my hands on the tops of my thighs to try and hide even if foolish. I had no problems with my stomach or my breasts. They weren’t as great as some of the strippers but they were a good size and shape and my belly was flat even if not toned. It was everything below my waist I struggled with. And Miroku had zeroed in on that part of my anatomy from the start.

I watched the floor and his feet, feeling his eyes drink me in so hard, it burned. He took the small step to me and my chin was grabbed again. I swear there was red in his eyes. A strange ember that was burning around his iris. It was scary but thrilling at the same time. And it had me back in my trance.

“No one compares to you.” He mumbled, stuck in the same trance with me.

Cornered, Miroku mushed into me, pressing his entire body against mine. He felt nice, not too hard and not too soft. Just like his kisses, heating up my body with his intense but gentle lips. His cock, which was pressing into my belly, was not soft at all. It was very hard. A voice whispered in my head, wondering if he got like this because of me or the other women he saw today? So I pressed my tongue to his, trying like hell to silence the voice, my ego speaking loudly in my brain.

His mouth trailed down my skin, pressing hot lips to my pulse. While his hands lifted my breasts into his hold, testing their weight before messaging the lumps. Miroku’s wet hair was wrapped around my fingers, grabbing and leading him around to where I wanted his mouth. I was fully ready to give everything to this man, my body, heart, and soul and I had known him for less than twenty-four hours.

Pushing as gently as my hot need would allow, I had him poised over a breast, wanting him to do everything to it. He grabbed my wrists first, pulling my hold off his head before barely licking my nipple. I arched on instinct, wanting more, but I suddenly found myself facing the wall. Miroku had flipped me around and now had my ass facing him.

I tried to spin back around but he held me still, my wrists in his hold and above my head. I was trapped. “What are you doing?!”

He was still pressed against me so at least he wasn’t looking at me. “Giving you what you need.”

This wasn’t what I needed. I fought against his hold but he just put my hands into one of his large ones and stood back. Miroku was examining me, looking over my weakest point of myself. The flame I had, the one he ignited, was quickly going out and all I wanted to do now was cry.

The hand that didn’t hold me still ran down my back, feather touches to my spine until it hit the top of my ass. “You’re so beautiful, Sango.”

Hot tears fell down my cheeks and I whimpered as his hand settled over one of my butt cheeks. “Liar.”

“I’m not.”

“How do I know? How could I ever know? And how could I ever believe you when you were soooo happy with those other women today?”

He squeezed my ass hard and groaned. “How would you ever believe me if I hadn’t? I could tell you till I was blue in the face that you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But if you were the only one I had seen, then you would never believe me.”

He was right but I still couldn’t give in to him. Call it condescension, I just couldn’t let him win. “If I was the only woman you’d ever seen then I would be the most beautiful to you. And that would have been more than enough.”

Miroku was pressed against me again, his dick digging in between my lower cheeks. “Sango, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Every part of you is perfect. Will you please be my first?”

My hands were released and I slowly turned to face him. His eyes were glowing now, thanks to his smile and the red fire inside them. It was nothing like the smile he had given to the girls at the club earlier. There was something more to it, something else inside it that hadn’t been there before. It made me feel warm and gooey inside. And in between my legs, the urge to find out what his strange penis felt like strong.

Guess he would be a first for me too, I’d never had sex with a demon before.

I don’t know if he just knew my answer or didn’t care, cause I had said and done nothing when he grabbed my ass and lifted me up. My back was flush with the wall and I watched as he lined himself up. Seeing him at half mast didn’t prepare me at all, his cock now full of blood and raging. Most penises were a bit red when ‘angry’. Miroku’s was slightly purple. I didn’t know if that was from years of wanting or from all the teasing today but neither explained the large bumps along his shaft.

He looked like a dildo.

The water on it made it glitter like one too, looking just like the one I used to have before a jealous boyfriend got pissed and threw it out. He didn’t want to be compared to a toy and, given my body issues, I couldn’t argue with him on it. Wonder how he would feel knowing I was about to fuck the near copy of that dildo?

Probably nothing since he was happy with his tiny new wife.

Having that dildo was a blessing in disguise, because I was sure most would be freaked out or terrified by Miroku. The look he gave me when I remained calm but needy told me I was right, he had body issues too. That made my heart pound like crazy in my chest, a beautiful man like Miroku, who was full of pride, struggled with parts of himself too.

He was eager, getting his tip in slowly but then rushing the rest. In a blink, he had my pussy full of him but I didn’t mind. It wasn't my first time and he was struggling to contain himself. That, and shit he felt good. Better than the damn dildo. Miroku was warm and alive, pulsing and twitching inside me just like I was.

Frozen, he groaned with every slight movement so I remained still so he could recover. All I did was encourage, stroking his hair and kissing his temple and cheek.

“I’m sorry…” He groaned after a few moments.

I found his ear and pressed my lips to it. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

That was all he needed, my encouragement, to rally. I felt every delicious bump of his shaft as he pulled out of me. He was slow to pull out but fast to thrust back in. As if he hated to leave me. It wasn’t long until he had a rhythm, tickling me from my entrance to my dam as he bounced me.

Wrapping my legs around him, I used my hips to help him, putting our bodies flush and getting him deeper. It had him pressing hard on my clit with his pelvis, my walls twitching and juice flooding from the change.

Miroku released one hand from my ass and grabbed my hair instead, pulling my head back to get my neck. He was growling, biting and sucking to leave many marks on me. I didn’t care, I was seconds away from one of the best orgasms of my life.

“You feel… so amazing… oh Sango, I’m glad I waited…. You’re perfect… so perfect…”

Miroku was a talker, mumbling words into my neck while his tip danced, coming right before me. I grabbed his hair now, pulling his face back to look him in the eyes. “Don’t you dare stop!”

He didn’t. Instead, he grabbed my ass in both hands again and lifted me up and down on him. While he continued to thrust. It had him pounding my clit and rubbing my spot. All of him rubbed me actually, the man growing after coming and stretching me around him more. I was sure I was ripping out hair but I couldn’t stop, euphoria shaking me to my core as white overtook my vision. I heard Miroku groan again but I didn’t know if it was my grip on his hair or my grip on his cock, my pussy squeezing him as I came. I was still convulsing around him when he stopped, letting my walls press against him over and over again. It was like nothing I had ever had before, sometimes needing to finish myself with past lovers.

There was no need with Miroku, I was boneless as it was, unable to move in his arms at all. He continued to hold me tight to him, both of us out of breath. I registered him turning off the water, leaving it on the entire time we fucked. But then, Miroku pulled us from our corner and didn’t put me down. Not even to pull his cock from inside me.

“What are you doing?!”

I cowered a little at my bruskness, he had just given me the best sex and I was already yelling at him again. But he took it in stride, not losing his gorgeous smile. “Thank you, Mate, for a memorable first time. I thoroughly enjoyed it and will now take you as many times as I please.”

oOo

The loftiness of those two. Just because they finally have a man, they think they're better than me. Was that all I was to them? A good time? I was always there for them in the bad, getting them dates and taking them out when they got dumped.

God, they were just as bad as men, getting what they wanted from me then moving on.

Who needed friends like that? To lie to my face, just to get rid of me too. No way was Naraku just sitting here wai…

I stopped dead in my tracks, Naraku leaning up against my door. It was easy to forget the crazy, bird moment he had earlier, looking so sexy with his dark waves standing out on his white undershirt. He still had on his jeans, the hoodie he left in gone. He must have gotten hot and taken it off. And just how many women did he have wrapped around his finger after today?

Even though I never asked, I was pretty sure he wasn’t a virgin when we met. He was far too eager and sure of himself when we fucked. There was nothing that was just mine, I had to share my soulmate too.

He moved to the side so I could unlock and open the door. But that was all he gave me, silent as he followed me inside. My place was the same size as Kagome’s and Sango’s but it was all mine. They never asked me to room with them but I liked living alone anyway.

Naraku stood, annoyed, just behind me as I moved to my bedroom and stripped off my jeans. “What are you doing here?”

His response was to enter deeper into the room, standing up to me. Grabbing my hips, he pulled us flush against each other. If I had protests, I wouldn’t have been able to voice them as he captured my mouth at such a speed it would’ve been impossible.

We both moved, backing me around to the bed. When I fell to it, he remained standing to strip and I watched. The way he stood, naked with his cock straining at attention, there was no way I was his first.

I let that thought linger while he crawled over me, ripping my top off me in my daze. He was already inside me when I woke up from my revelry, slowly pulling in and out of me like lovers. It felt good. Amazing really, especially with the attention he was giving my breasts, licking and sucking them. But I just wasn’t in the mood.

I flipped us and he didn’t complain, putting my weight on his shoulders to angle myself perfectly. It was what I did when I just wanted to get off, my clit pressed to his hips and my nipples rubbing on his chest. All while I pushed his dick into my g-spot. Now, it felt amazing, tipping towards my end quickly.

Damn if the bastard didn’t flip us again. I glowered up at him as he held himself over me. He smirked back, grabbing my knee and pulling it up to my chest. When he rammed into me, I was surprised. That’s why I cried out. Not because he was revolutionary or anything. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he made my head spin.

Naraku was going at my pussy hard now, really fucking me and I was seconds from falling into bliss again, when he started squawking.

Fuck it was distracting, grabbing his face in my hands and stopping all movements and sounds. “Don’t do that!”

“What?”

“Squawk!!!”

He grinned, slowly moving his hips again and teasing me. “It’s a compliment. I don’t let out my animal side for anyone.”

“You did this afternoon….”

“That was different. Just shut up and let me enjoy you.”

Talking was over and I was partly glad. I didn’t like talking in bed. Naraku went back to ramming and squawking and I closed my senses off to it, focusing on his dick as much as possible. My orgasm hit and I moved against him, trying to get as much as possible from him as I came. He dropped my leg and ground his pelvis against my clit, making explosions of pleasure shoot through me until I finished. The last thing he did was pull out to come in his palm, rushing off to the bathroom a few minutes later.

I was pulling on fresh clothes when he returned, looking me over as if confused. Did he think we would cuddle? Or go again? I wasn’t in the mood for either at the moment, a bit pissed at myself for falling back into bed with this man so easily. “Why did you come back?”

He shrugged, “I was told to return.”

I swallowed the bitterness that was in my mouth from that statement. “What does that mean?” He was silent and I tore my eyes from him back to nothing. “If you don’t want to be here, then leave.”

“I’m supposed to talk to you first.”

Great, I hated it when men said they ‘wanted to talk’. It was never good. Especially right after sex. “Let’s get this over with then.”

Naraku moved to sit on the bed, flopping in a manner that I could only describe as not sexy. “You’re unfaithful. How am I ever to trust you as a mate?”

“Me?! You’re the one propositioning Kagome right in front of me,” his eyes went wide and I grimaced at him, “I could hear you, you idiot.”

“Impressive hearing for a human. Especially one that only listens to themself.”

I growled back at him, “how would you know? You’ve barely spent ten minutes with me where you weren’t fucking me…”

“And who’s fault is that? You left me with others to go on a date!” Now my mouth hung open. “I could hear you too, you idiot.”

“Arrggg, I never should have summoned you! I don’t want you!”

Your cunt says otherwise! If it wasn’t for Master’s commands, I would be long gone!”

“Wait, what?” I squeaked.

I expected a fight or something but he was all too willing to fill me in… as usual. “Kagome. She is our Master and it’s for the best that we obey…..”

“Does she know this?”

I stared at him, searching his face for a lie. But he had never lied to me and now wasn’t different. He shook his head to say he wasn’t sure but I was. In a rush, I grabbed my jeans back up and started shoving them on.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to Kagome’s. She needs to be stopped before she ruins In… others.”

If I hurried, I could stop Kagome from controlling Inuyasha. Whether she knew it or not. And he could be mine instead.

oOo

I went into my room but I didn’t really have much of a reason. Other than wanting to be alone. It was way too early for me to go to bed. I probably should have showered but I could hear Sango’s shower going. The apartment was older and didn’t allow two showers at once. Unless you wanted a cold one.

With nothing more to do, I changed and got in the bed only to lie there. I was exhausted. A day from hell. But my brain would not shut the fuck up.

From the moment I met Inuyasha, to his jealousy over Naraku, and to him dancing on the stage I thought about each and every moment, marking when I said something to him to influence him. Was it only when I spoke? Or did it go off my thoughts too? I had wanted him to hold me and be here for me. I would be happy with being friends too, just a good, strong male friend that could comfort me like my friends couldn’t. There was just something about a man that cares for you that a female can’t cover.

I was so lost in thought, I missed when I stopped being alone. The bed shifted and before I could turn, Inuyasha spooned against me. His arms wrapped around me, filling me with comfort that quickly soured. I didn’t know if he was here because he wanted to be or because my thoughts brought him.

As gently as possible, I pushed at his hold. “Inuyasha, I think you should sleep on the floor.”

“Why?” I was biting my tongue, not wanting to command him to do anything out of fear he would follow. “Is it because of that place? Those women?”

I really didn’t care that he went to a strip club. He was the main attraction there anyway, dancing better than the midday B squad.

He misunderstood my silence. It wasn’t that I was angry, I was terrified to speak! But it didn’t deter Inuyasha, his nose digging through my hair until he found the back of my neck. “Don’t be mad, Master.”

I cringed and stiffened, trying again to pull away from him. I felt sick but Inuyasha refused to let me go. What could I say? Nothing. It would force his hand either way. He was rubbing his face into me, up and down the back of my neck. His lips grazed my skin along the top of my spine and I felt my entire body catch flame. None of me wanted him to stop and I didn’t know if he knew that. If he could feel it and was compelled by it.

“Can you… hear my thoughts?” He froze and shook his head, his nose going side to side on my neck. “So you don’t know what I want?”

“I wish I did.” I felt it was obvious but he was innocent and naive. “I want you, Master. No one else. You have to know that, right?”

I wanted him too, my body was practically screaming for him. “I… I…”

Clamping my mouth shut, I stopped myself from saying anything. Anything from my mouth could sway him and I didn’t want that. The last thing I wanted was to control him and make him do anything with this power I had. One that I didn’t understand but was there.

His hands were starting to move, going up to my ribs and turning around to go to my hips and back. He wanted my permission but I couldn’t get my mouth to move to give it. Each time his hands landed on my hips, they twitched, trying to move his touch elsewhere without saying a word. His hips moved too, pressing into my ass with a rhythm that I was meeting. His hardness was between my cheeks, grinding. And I ground back.

“Master…” he moaned and I whimpered back, “tell me what you want…”

I was going to die. I wanted… no needed him but he was waiting for my command. I refused to give it, I wouldn’t do that to him ever. “I want… you to stop calling me Master.”

He growled, “Kagome,” and I swear I nearly came from that alone. Then he grabbed my knee, slinging it over his hip and putting his hand flat on my inner thigh. I was now spread out for him on my side.”Show me what you want… what to do…”

With his hand inching closer and closer to warmth, I didn’t need more to understand. So I took the hand he had on my thigh and pulled two of his fingers free. Using my fingers, I pressed him to my folds. My panties were already wet and they were only getting wetter as I showed him what to do. He took over in a few shuddering breaths, placing a hand over my mouth instead so I didn’t get too loud.

Sango was still in the shower for now but who knew when she’d get out and be able to hear us.

He stopped but only so he could slip his hand inside my panties instead. A finger slipped and neared my entrance, but what was an accident caused me to whimper loudly and Inuyasha to explore. His finger slid inside me with ease and my body reacted, my hips twisting to get more.

Maybe it was curiosity, seeing pairs of breasts earlier that day? Or that I was panting and mine were bouncing, but Inuyasha took his free hand to cup a breast and squeeze. It caused me to squeeze his finger with my walls. To which, Inuyasha growled again and slipped another finger inside me, gripping my breast tight.

With all this attention, my nipples were standing at attention through my shirt. When Inuyasha started strumming it, my mind started spinning. I was pretty sure I was hopping on his fingers, wiggling against his touch.

He stopped again, pulling his fingers out of me and his hand out of my underwear. This time, it was to rip them in half, my cloth panties now strips of nothing. He gently pushed my leg off of him to shift behind me, getting his pants down. Soon, he had his cock pressed against my ass with nothing between us. It was hot and large. I wanted to look at it but with him behind me, it was impossible. I didn’t need to, I could feel it’s length and girth.

Inuyasha was huge.

My leg was back on his hip again and his fingers were in my folds, splitting them until he found my clit. The hard nob stood out and I jumped when he pinched it, telling him he had found what he was looking for.

With his hands occupied, he had to put himself in without assistance. Lining himself up, he twisted his hips around then pushed. I could feel him, pressing my entrance but then slipping past it. I was wet and ready but he was big and struggled to go inside.

So I reached down and held him in place.

Every inch of him forced me to stretch around him, my body expanding to accommodate but doing so willingly. Once up to his hilt, I felt impossibly full. Now Inuyasha was the one whimpering, his husky sighs of want vibrated my ear and neck. With him still rubbing my clit, I was pulsing around him. It wasn’t going to take me long to come, not with his large cock and stroking fingers. I didn’t expect him to last long either, what with it his first time.

He started moving and my entire insides fluttered. It was like being on a roller coaster, doing a loopty-loop. And I loved roller coasters. Inuyasha was giving me one hell of a ride, twisting his hips to move more. I pushed on the bed, backing up into him and holding myself still against his thrusts. I wasn’t going anywhere, his arms locked around me, a hand in my snatch and one on my breast. But I felt like I was falling so I held on tight.

Wrapping his finger and thumb around it, Inuyasha rolled my clit around and hit my lovely spot inside at the same time. I was crying, begging him not to stop even though he hadn’t so much as hesitated. Coming hard and strong left me saying crazy things.

Heat was spreading through my bones and Inuyasha was still pumping more pleasure into me. The last of my orgasm squeezed all of me tight, my body tensing and Inuyasha moaned loudly in my ear. With us both still, I could feel him as he pumped into me, coming just as I finished like a good lover.

We didn’t move, still wrapped up in each other and catching our breath. I don’t know how much time passed but I did notice that Inuyasha was still hard. Impossible to miss with him still inside me. “Was that… good?” He had to ask? I couldn’t help but giggle at him and nod. Inuyasha squeezed me tighter and rubbed his lips along my neck again. “Can we… do it again?”

I wanted to. Dear god did I. But I needed a minute, pushing gently on him to get free. “Some water first, please?”

Turning to face him, I caught the brilliant glow of his eyes before he pressed a hard and fast kiss to my lips. He kissed me a few times, trying to start round two now. With a little pushing I got free of his lips, giggling when he continued to try. He gave up soon, getting to his feet and quickly fixing his pants. I could still see his hard on inside his sweats.

When I tried to get up, he gently pushed me back down. “I’ll get your water. You stay and keep your clothes on,” he said suddenly and I looked at him to question, “I want to be the one to take them off you.”

Even with us just having sex, I still blushed at his words. Inuyasha was gone a second when the door flew open again, Sango flying into my room. I caught the wild look of her hair and the towel she had wrapped around her and found myself once again confused. “Did you just get out of the shower??”

“Kagome, you have to help me. He won’t stop.”

“Sango!”

I was stunned to my bed, not wearing much more than Sango, when Miroku stormed in. He wore a towel too, thankfully. Seeing him naked once was enough for me.

He was grabbing Sango, trying to pull her into his arms and Sango was trying to turn him down. It looked like she didn’t know how to tell him no. I struggled to understand just what the problem was. “Miroku! Listen to Sango!!”

My stomach turned when he stopped and did as I ordered, gently holding Sango instead of pulling her to his mouth. “I need a break!”

“But… I want more…”

“So do I but I need to rest at least a little bit!!!” Sango screamed.

If they were talking about what I thought they were, they needed to do it elsewhere. I was still trying to calm my stomach as it was, getting off the bed to search out Inuyasha. He wanted me to wait for him here but I was pretty sure he didn’t know where the glasses were.

I had to push the couple out of my way to get out only to glance back at them in confusion. Was I asleep or something? Or had I hit my head? Did Inuyasha and I not just make love? Or was all of it in my head starting from his care for me?

I was questioning everything but that’s what happens when you walk out to your soulmate kissing another woman, Inuyasha and Kikyo mid makeout while my heart cracked into a million pieces.

No guarantees on another chapter today guys. I’m going to try but it’s not looking good already. Sorry!

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha sins #sinfully human

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howardpotts · 5 years

Text

Sweet, Sugar, Candyman

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve

Summary: Reader performs Candyman and knows how to persuade the two men to join her on stage. She makes it one hell of a show, one that Bucky and Steve can’t forget. Bucky takes her to his bedroom, Steve joins quickly after.

Warnings: Smut (Male receiving, female receiving, vaginal sex, anal sex, M/M and F/M), roughness? As in; someone is going to be a bit demanding. ;)

A/N: Oh my god. My first threesome. I feel like I can finally say that I wrote some filthy smut. Oh, also, thanks @cametobuyplums @thamuddagirl @tranquil--heart for all the thirsty conversations that inspired this fic.

Do not read this if you are under 18.

Nervously you check yourself one last time in the mirror. Waved long hair, thick red lips, contoured face, navy tight dress. It was your typical 40’s look, or at least, that’s what you tried. You had to, to make your performance in front of the New York SHIELD Agents and Avengers an absolute success.

“Y/N, fifteen seconds”, someone informed you. You nodded firmly, hands lowering your dress one last time. This is it. Now or never.

“Now, give her a big applause…. Y/N!” The sound was muffled. Adrenaline rushed through your body, maybe even more than it did on mission. Missions you were familiar with, performing in front of a live audience you’re not.

Quickly you find your place, a big smile on your face, hands on your hips. The moment the beat started playing, the curtains disappeared and the crowd cheered. They have never seen you like this. The only version of you they ever saw was serious and to the point. Sure you liked a joke, most of the times you enjoyed a dark one better than the innocent ones.

“Before we start”, you begin, wiggling your eyebrows. “I need two strong men.” You smirk while you search the crowd, a few hands are in the air. Some jokingly, some serious. A chuckle leaves your mouth as you take a few steps forward. You spot Steve and Bucky in the crowd. Gotcha.

“Preferably two who have been around in the 40’s.” Your eyes never leave them, there’s no escaping now. Both look wide-eyed, not expecting this kind of sudden attention. The crowd cheers. Steve tries to get out of it, waving his hand and mouthing ‘no thanks’, but Bucky is already on his way to the stage.

Natasha helps you, pushing Steve in to the right direction until he gives in himself.

You greet Bucky when he climbs up. As a real gentleman, he kisses the back of your hand, looking in your eyes playfully. You lead him to one of the two chairs that are on the stage.

When Steve gets up, he looks embarrassed and slightly irritated. “Why?” is the first thing he asks you. You just shake your head, refusing to give him an answer and lead him to the other empty chair on the stage.

“Now, be a good Captain and stay seated please”, you whisper close to his ears.

You move to the center again. Your hips start flicking up and down while your hands are holding them. With a playful smile you watch the audience, nervous magically disappeared the minute you saw the crowd, excitement has taken over.

“Tarzan and Jane were swingin’ on a vine”, it scolds through the room, a male voice starting the song. The microphone is close to your mouth. “Candyman, candyman.”

“Sippin’ from a bottle of Vodka double wine.” One last look to the crowd with one eyebrow up. “Sweet, sugar, candyman.”

And you turn around to face the two men, who are maybe three feet apart from each other. The music takes on and you walk toward them, swaying your hips from left to right. Their attention is on you, curiosity beaming in their eyes.

You first turn to Bucky, since it felt like he was most sure of himself, Steve really needed to be eased into this song. You hovered over Bucky, laying your hand on his cheek softly. “I met out for diner on a Friday night”, you start, getting your hand back again and twirling around his chair.

“He really had me workin’ up an appetite. He had tattoos up and down his arm. There’s nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm. He’s a one stop shop, makes the panties drop-“

Bucky couldn’t be more surprised. He never saw you out of work and he most definitely never considered you.. this. One who can work the crowd, make them whistle while you walk past. He was blown away by your moves and touches, mentally trying to keep his head on the stage.

You laid a hand on his shoulder, which made his head flick up to you. You gave him a quick wink before lowering yourself, still moving your hips from one side to the other. The moment you’re finally at his height, you quirk up again, hand leaving his arm.

“He took me to the Spider Club on Hollywood and Vine. We drank champagne and we danced all night. We shook the paparazzi for a big surprise. The gossip tonight will be tomorrow’s headline-“

It was Steve’s turn. He looked up at you. His shyness was lost, he decided he better just get it over with. He gave you a little smirk as if he wanted you to know it’s okay to do the same as you did with Bucky.

And so you did. You stood behind him, your hand slowly going from his chest to his collarbone, but not any further than that. You made sure of that, not wanting to make them feel overtouched. Slowly you creeped your hand back to his should and then left again, walking around his chair and stopping again in the middle between the two guys.

“He’s a one stop shop, make my cherry pop. He’s a sweet talking, sugar-coated, candyman.”

The crowd cheered. Natasha and Tony having the times of their lives seeing those two supersoldiers in such.. public position. But also, they were very much enjoying your performance. You sang like an angel, not one note off. Your moves were smooth, but not overly done to make you look cheap. It was an overall classy and well rehearsed performance.

_____________________

With the same looks you walk into the crowd, pretty satisfied with the performance you just had. A bit nervous for what Steve and Bucky had to say. They didn’t know that they would be called on stage and you’re not sure if they’d be happy about it. But you had to do it. It was like this song was made for them.

“That was one hell of show, girl. I loved it.” Natasha squeezed your upper arm softly while smirking. She was the only one who knew that the supersoldiers would be asked to come on stage. You thank her, but also eye Bucky and Steve. When being called on stage, Bucky didn’t seem to mind, but Steve was a different story. He had to be convinced by Nat before deciding not to demonstrate and just go with it.

“You really know how to surprise these old folks, eh?” Bucky smiled widely as he grabbed Steve’s shoulder. You grinned, shrugging your shoulders.

“I hope I didn’t cross any boundaries”, you say innocently, batting your eyelashes with it. Bucky presses his lips together.

“You’re a good performer”, Steve says, his smile a little less wide. It made you a little uncomfortable, as if he only says it to be nice in public, only to give you a speech when you’re alone.

Nat grabs both of your shoulders and tugs you away from the two men, which takes you by surprise. A confusing ‘hmm’ leaves your lips, but Natasha isn’t answering. When they’re both out of earshot, she finally starts talking.

“I’m not trying to… interfere”, she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “But I think you got both men quite worked up.”

Your eyes grow big. “Worked up? Like? Pissed?” Your cheeks start to slowly get more colour.

“Oh my god, no. Are you blind? I mean.. They like the view of you all – how do they say it? – dolled up.” Now you’re of officially blushing. The temperature rises, but you’re far from uncomfortable. Instead, how bad it may be, there’s even a little spark starting to exist in your belly, slowly making its way down to your most sensitive spot.

“What? No, they’re probably just nice”, you try to swat it off, but Natasha just gives you a small wink before returning to the supersoldiers, where Tony has joined them. He gives you a thumbs up, but you’re too busy in your head, thinking of all the things they could do to you.

You never thought about it. Sure, you thought about maybe them, you’re not blind. They’re like two gods. But it never occurred to you that they might actually be interested in you, just an ordinary agent.

_____________________

You sip from your gin tonic while looking at people, they’re dancing and laughing. A little content smile is on your face, realizing that your performance went well and now you can enjoy the night without having to think about a single mission.

“Can I have a beer?”, you hear from your right. He takes a seat next to you, scooting a little closer and now also brushing your arm with his.

“Don’t you love this?”, he asks. You look at him, but he’s still looking at the crowd. “The dancing, the laughing, sipping beer. In a strange way, this reminds me of the 40’s.”

“Yeah, it’s lovely to have an evening where you don’t have to worry about anything”, you smile, looking into his piercing blue eyes, brown hair tugged behind his ears. “Don’t have to think about the missions. Where back in the day, you don’t have to worry about..”

“War”, he finished your sentenced. You didn’t want to finish it, knowing damn well it might still sting, even after so many years. You smile in embarrassment and add a quick ‘yeah’.

“It is, yeah, in a way.” Again, he scoots closer, now obviously touching your arm, hand brushing yours. His pink intertwines with yours as he finally looks at you. Again, red creeps into your cheeks and neck, no way of hiding it.

“Look, doll, I’m going to be honest”, he sighs, voice lower than when he started the conversation. His words made your blood run faster. “What you did on that stage - You look like a real betty and if you feel just as warm as I do, I suggest we go to the elevator and continue the party with just the two of us.”

You do feel warm. No, correction, you feel hot. Your teeth catch your lower lip as you watch him. His eyes are pleading, watching how you figure out what to say without sounding like you’ve planned this.

Instead of saying something, you just nod, still holding your lip between your teeth. He grins, standing up immediately, smoothly passing the crowd and walking to the elevator. You follow, trying not to smile. It’s a desperate attempt so no one will notice what you and Bucky are planning on doing.

When the elevator opens, you both get in quickly. Bucky presses the closing button impatiently, slowly showing how desperate he really is. You chuckle, which he notices.

As soon as the door shuts, he pushes you against the wall, lips on yours. It’s a needy kiss, a bit sloppy as well. Your hands are around his neck in a second, pulling him even closer.

You’d lie if you didn’t think of this while preparing for your performance. It’s a fantasy you thought of, but also put away quickly, since the odds of it happening seemed very small to you. But here you are, kissing one of the two soldiers you desperately wanted in your bed.

When the elevator dings again he stumbles backwards, grabbing your hand while watching you hungrily. You giggle while walking to his apartment, excited for what’s about to come.

When inside, he slams the door, pushing you to it again. “Fuck, I can’t wait to rip this off.” His voice is low, hands roaming your dress, pulling at some of the fabric.

His lips devour your neck, teeth nibbling slightly at the same time. You throw your head back, a small moan coming out of your mouth. “Then do it. Rip it”, you sigh, encouraging Bucky to take it to the next step. He looks at you for reassurance, not sure if you really wanted this dress to be unwearable. But your eyes are closed, waiting for your body to be exposed.

With little effort he rips the seams apart, slowly showing your lace black bra and matching panties, dress somewhere tossed in the room. His hands are on your breast in an instant, squeezing them as if he never wanted something so desperately in his life. A low growl leaving his mouth with it.

He lifts you, your legs wrapping around his thighs. A bit clumsy he stumbled to the bed, almost falling over a pair of shoes that were tossed somewhere in the living room. He wasn’t the cleanest person of the Avengers, but you knew that before this little adventure.

“You planned this, didn’t you? You wanted us to go crazy, to fuck your brains out.” All this time he had a mischievious smirk on his face. “Did you want me? Or Stevie?”

You keep your mouth shut, not knowing what to answer. Your bottom lip is between your teeth again, probably betraying your answer. “Answer me, babygirl.” There’s a slight warning in his voice.

He throws you on the bed. You want to crawl backwards, but he doesn’t allow it. Instead, he grabs you by the ankles and turns you around. “I said answer me.”

God you were loving this, how he handled you roughly. You wondered how far he’d go without you answering. You wondered what he was going to do about the fact that you didn’t say a word. And so, you stayed silent, only a giggle leaving your mouth.

“Oh, so that’s how you wanna play, huh?” You feel the mattrass dip, two seconds after, you feel his hand hitting your ass hard, the sound filling the room. A small hiss passes your lips, but your walls are fluttering. You were practically dripping already and he didn’t even do that much.

Another spank on your cheek has you whimpering. “Bucky please-” “Answer me”, he orders. You want to answer but you can’t, words strangled with each other.

Another slap forces the answer out of you, almost screaming it at him. “Both!”

He stops entirely. Oh shit. Wrong answer?

“Both? You want both of us?” You turn around, facing him while innocently nodding your head. You expect to see confusion on his face, but instead, you see a playful grin.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket and starts texting. “Uh? Bucky?”, your voice is unsure, even a little bit insecure. He doesn’t look up for another few seconds before laying it down and climbing further on the bed, his face close to yours.

“It might be your lucky day.” The words send shivers down your spine. Out of excitement you kiss him, hands in his hair, but he breaks the kiss again. “But don’t count yourself lucky yet, doll. I’m not sure if he’ll come.”

You nod and bat your eyelashes innocently. “Well”, you say, voice more girly than usual. “In the meantime, Sarge, let me give you a good time.”

His eyes darkened, definitely enjoying the name you just called him. He throws himself at you again, his flesh hand dissapearing to your back to release your bra.

You quickly rid yourself of it, exposing your breasts to him. He licks his lips at the sight of it, eyes blown with lust. His metal hand squeezes one of your tits, flicking a nipple in between moves. His mouth find the other nipple while he sucks carefully.

God it feels so good. He makes you feel so good. As much as you want him to move further, you promised him that you were going to give him a good time. And so, you push him off you.

He lays down on the mattress as he pulls his shirt over his head. No time to appreciate the work of art in front of you. You work on the belt, his hardend cock clearly visible as you try to get his pants off as quick as possible.

When you finally push it down, you automatically pull his boxers with it. His cock springs free. Pre cum is dripping off his red head. His cock is thick and you suddenly feel worried if your mouth fits around it.

You look at him in the eyes, shock probably visible all over your face as he chuckles. “Just take as much as you can, babydoll.”

He softly brushes your hair to encourage you. You stick out your tongue and lick down his shaft and back to the tip, where you lick away all the pre cum. Slowly you take him in your mouth, jaws hurting from the stretch.

You start bobbing your head, each time taking him deeper, your mouth opening up and taking him in. Your right hand takes the parts your mouth can’t reach, your left hand is cupping his balls.

He grunts, his hand fisting your hair. “Fuck, yes, like that baby, taking my cock real good.” The words encourage you, your tongue pressing against his vein. His hips buck, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag in a reflex.

You don’t stop. You ignore your own reflexes as you keep trying to speed things up.

“Shit, fuck, god you feel-” His words are cut off by a knock on the door. You stop your movement, eyes gliding to his as his cock leaves your mouth. A big grin spreads across his face.

“Looks like we’ve got company. Why don’t you go look?”

You reach with your hand to your mouth to wipe off the pre cum and saliva, but Bucky grabs your wrist, shaking his head.

“Yes, Sarge”, you say with a little tremble in your voice. This is not happening, right? Is it really Steve who’s behind that door? Did they do this more often? Or is Bucky just messing with you?

You peek through the little hole in the door. Your legs weaken when you see the handsome blonde on the other side. Arms crossed, showing every muscle through the blouse. A feeling of vulnerability taking over. You’re naked and you looked like mess - like a whore.

With trembling hands you open the door, your body still hiding behind it in case someone else walks by. A little shy smile is on your face, but so is on Steve’s. The same one he had when you wanted him on stage. The only difference is the glint of lust in his eyes.

“Uh, come in.” It’s more of a question than an invitation, but he gets in anyway.

When the door shuts, he looks at you completely, eyes scanning your body. God, you couldn’t have felt more exposed right now.

“Steve? You there?” Bucky called from the other room.

“Yes, give me a minute Buck”, he called back, hands going through his hair. Give him a minute?

“God, you’re a real treasure.” He takes a step forward, closing the space between the two of you. He can probably tell how uncertain you are. His hands are now on your body. One in your neck, the other one on your thigh.

He presses his body against yours. Your heart felt like it could jump out of your body any minute now and you’re sure that he had to feel it as well.

“Looks like Bucky already had some fun with you”, he grinned as his put a strand of hair behind your ear. All innocence and shyness was lost as he yanked at your hair, your head falling back. “Think you can give it to me too?”

You nod, but just as Bucky, he wanted words. He pulled a bit harder at your hair. “Can you?”

“Yes”, you answer. He sighed, eyes breaking contact for less than a second.

“Yes what?”, he threatens. His grip tightening even more on your hip. That’s definitely going to be a bruise tomorrow.

“Yes, Captain”, you whisper. Finally he was satisfied with the answer and let you go. He walked toward Bucky’s bedroom, but not before he gripped your wrist and pulled you with him.

As you walk in to the bedroom, you see Bucky slowly moving his hand over his cock, grinning when Steve walks in. Steve gave a smirk in return. Even though you’re a bit confused with what’s happening, you get yourself together in two seconds.

You remembered the words of the Captain. Think you can give it to me too? With that in mind, you stand before him and start unbuttoning his jeans. Steve looks surprised, a smile he can’t hide.

“What are you doing, babygirl?” Steve sounds amused.

“You asked me, right?”, you grin. He lets you do your work as you peel off his jeans - boxer followers soon after. You look up, meeting his eyes. You feel a hand going through your hair.

“Sarge, you gonna watch?” Steve’s still looking at you. You bat your eyelashes at him before taking the first look at his cock. It’s already rock-hard and just as thick - maybe even thicker - as Buckys.

“Yeah, I’m gonna enjoy the show”, you hear from the other side of the room. The bed squeaks, but you don’t pay attention to what’s happening behind you. Your attention is focused on Steve’s cock.

You lick the pre cum off quickly, which makes Steve already grunt low. You press back a smile and open your mouth instead, taking his head in. A little ‘fuck’ comes from Steves mouth.

You take him in further until you feel your gag-reflexes showing up again. Slowly you start bobbing, Steves cock twitching from the good feeling you’re giving him. You can feel that Steve’s different, not as willingly as Bucky is. Not as desperate.

“Fuck- Y/N, hold still for me”, Steve growls. You stop, cock still in your mouth, saliva slowly dripping from your mouth to your chin and on the floor. But you’re pretty sure that your mouth is not the only thing dripping from wetness.

“Be a fucking good girl and stay like this.” It’s his last warning before he starts fucking your mouth himself. He’s panting, growling, grunting. But he’s not the only one. Someone close behind you is also softly moaning.

Steve’s cock triggers your reflexes, making you choke multiple times, but he doesn’t stop. If all, it’s a turn on for him.

“Buck, Sarge, fuck- Come here”, Steve commands. You start to realize that it’s not Bucky who’s in charge here. It’s Steve. And by the looks of it, they’ve done this more than once.

“Gladly”, you hear, making you squirm already. What’s going to happen?

You look at Steve and he’s still looking at you, still fucking his cock in your mouth. He pushes a bit further, which makes you moan around his cock and that results in a hard groan from Steve.

“Good girl”, he says before tearing his eyes away from you and to the other hot soldier. His hands let go of your head again and pulls back, releasing his cock from your mouth.

He crashes his lips Bucky’s, something you didn’t expect, but boy did you like it. This was definitely not the first time. Hell, it looks like they did this every fucking day.

You crawl away from the two of them. Now it’s your time to enjoy the show. They get pretty into it, touching and groping each other. Bucky’s quickly moaning into Steve’s mouth as Steve grabs his cock.

You feel a new heat going through your body. You’re not sure what’s hotter: the fact that they’re practically jerking each other off in front of you, or that Bucky went from dominant to obedient in seconds. Or maybe even the fact that this is a regular thing.

All things together made you squirm, it made you desperate for some pressure down there. And since those two were so into each other, you had no other option than to just start yourself.

You place yourself on the bed, panties lost somewhere on the way. Your finger finds your clit quickly as you watch. Steve’s big hand around Bucky’s cock and Bucky’s metal hand around Steve’s. God, their bodies must be created by angels. Every inch of them is perfectly muscled and tanned.

A small moan leaves your mouth, which caught their attention. Bucky looks surprised, unsure on how Steve will react, but Steve’s just chuckling. “Enjoying it, babygirl?”

You nod. “Yes, Captain. Very much.”

He grins, but quickly focusses on Bucky again. “Why don’t you take over from her, Sarge? Replace those fingers with your tongue.”

You swallow hard at his words, but you don’t stop fingering. Bucky walks towards you, cock jumping with every step he takes. He gives you a playful wink before getting on his knees, hands widening your knees. “Fuck, Cap, look at that.”

You want to remove your fingers, but Bucky gives you a quick warning to keep going. And so you do.

Steve slowly strokes his cock, watching you pleasure yourself. Both men are actually watching you finger yourself. A little whine comes out of your mouth. “Please Sarge, I want your mouth”, you beg, too worked up to feel ashamed.

“Come on, Buck, do as she says. She deserves it”, Steve says. God how much you want to kiss him for saying that. As you were to open your mouth to thank him, Bucky yanks your fingers out of the way and dives his tongue in there, ripping a loud moan out of you.

He circles around your clit, making 8-figures with his tongue. His lips join, gently nibbling at your clit. You’re slowly drifted to the edge, but Bucky knows how to speed that up if he decides it’s time to press a digit into your pussy.

Steve sits next to you and watches Bucky eat you out. Eyes full of lust. You watch him, taking him all in. It’s so fucking sexy that he’s taking charge. How he brought some new energy to this room.

A second finger is being added into your pussy as Bucky pumps in and out of you. You’re a whimpering mess under him, begging him to keep going, to never stop.

“How does she taste, Buck?”, Steve asks. You’re almost whining when Bucky removes his tongue to answer Steve.

“She’s a fucking five star menu. Want a taste?”

Steve grins at the answer. “Move”, is the only thing he says. Bucky smirks and moves, dropping himself next to you. His metal hand squeezing your breast, the other one supporting him to stay on his side.

Another moan rips out of you, from the deepest of your lungs. “Ahhhh, fuck- Steve, fuck yes, feels so good! I’m so close, so close-”

He quickly starts pumping in and out of you with his fingers too, three are now in you, aiming for your release. He curls them, tipping you over the edge. Toes curling, back arching, head in the pillow. You scream both their names. Steve, Bucky, Steve, Steve, Bucky, Bucky.

“Want to be fucked, babygirl?”, Bucky asks if Steve gets his mouth and fingers away from you. “Want our cocks in your pussy?”

You look at him with pleading eyes as you nod. If you talk now, you’re sure it’d sound as weak as a trapped prey.

Steve hovers over you, cock immediately pressuring your overstimulated clit again. “Answer him, doll.” His voice is dark, low and so fucking hot.

“Yes, Sarge. I want your cocks. Both of them. Please, fuck me.” You feel dizzy. You need it, your pussy is begging for it. You need someone to fuck you.

Steve decides to tease you first, his tip teasing your entrance. You buck up, trying to get more of his cock in you. Bucky sees and pinches your nipple a little harder, making you moan. It’s pleasuring but painful at the same time.

“Gotta have patience, babygirl. If you’re a good girl for us, we will let you come.” Steve smiles darkly at you. You know he means it and you’re not willing to risk anything and so you lay still. You barely even dare to breath. You want to cum around his cock.

But he pulls back. You want to whine but decide to be smarter than that. Be a good girl and you get to come.

“Sarge, open her up nicely for me”, he says as he pulls back.

Bucky now quickly gets between your knees. He decides that you’ve been teased enough and pushes directly in you without warning. It’s painful but bearable.

He sets a pace that has your eyes rolled back into your head. Slamming in to you as if he’s been waiting for years.

“F-f-fuck.” It’s all you manage to say.

Steve’s grabbing some lube and puts it on his cock while he watches how Bucky destroys you. You poke your feet in his back, steading yourself since you have a feeling what’s coming. You don’t want to come before the fun has even started.

As Steve takes place behind Bucky, you bite onto his shoulder, trying not to scream out of pleasure.

Bucky’s pace falters. Steve’s probably working him put with his fingers, teasing his hole. A high-pitched moan now coming from Bucky’s mouth.

Steve works him up quickly, adding one finger first, but adding a second one after a few seconds.

After adding a bit more lube on his cock, Steve slowly pushes into Bucky, who pushes into you. All three of you moan. Steve begins setting a pace, a low growl coming out of his mouth. Buckys cock is settling deeper and deeper with each thrust. You can feel his cock twitching.

You’re the first one who says something and you hope you’re not getting punished for it. You can’t get punished for it. You won’t be able to handle it.

“Fuck. S-Steve, Capt-tain, S-Sarge. I- I’m c-coming.” It’s a miracle that those words were formed in your brain, that’s how great it felt.

As his cock hits your sensitive spot, you’re done for. There’s no sound coming out of your mouth. Your walls clamping on to Bucky’s cock. You scratch his back as you stare from Bucky to Steve, who are both watching you come undone.

Bucky’s now the one who’s close. You can feel it, he’s so close, cock twitching with every push from Steve.

“S-Stevie. I’m not g-gonna last.”

Steve’s pace gets slower, his eyebrows quirk up. “Who am I?”

Bucky has his eyes closed, probably too focused on not coming into your pussy. “Captain!”, he yells. Steve reacts immediately and slams into Bucky, pace faster than before. And that’s all Bucky needs to be driven over the edge.

You moan too, your oversensitive pussy being completely devoured as they keep pushing into you. Bucky’s seed is painting your walls, his fingers clamping the sheets.

Steve’s still lasting. You’re not sure how he does it, but you think it’s the serum. He stops pumping into Bucky and frees his cock again.

“Go rest, Sarge. I need to finish”, he says. Your cheeks were red from stimulation, but his words made you blush. He needed you for his own pleasure.

Steve’s in between your legs. “Want my cock, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, please, Captain.” As ashamed you should be for wanting another orgasm, your shame has left you long ago.

The captain doesn’t show mercy and slams into you, making you squeal. Skin is slapping on skin, balls bouncing against your hole.

“Fuck, you’re such a naughty girl, taking our cocks.” His words help you to another orgasms. It rips out of you so easily as if it’s your first. You moan, walls now clamping to Steve’s cock.

He groans, pace sloppy. Warm seed fills you, Steve’s forehead against yours. His whole body is shaking as he comes. It’s so hot, but you’re all out of energy to feel anything anymore.

Steve slides out of you, head resting on your breasts for a second before rolling next to you. You watch him for a second before turning your head to Bucky.

He gets a towel and some water. They both take care of you and clean you up. It’s like they switched in two seconds. From demanding to soft.

“Uh, so, sorry for your dress”, Bucky says when you’re all cleaned up. You’re underneath a blanket, no spare clothing to wear.

You chuckle. “I asked for it”, you wink. Steve laughs lowly as he pulls you closer. It’s a nice warm feeling. It’s safe, you feel safe.

“I have a few questions”, you say, eyeing the both of them. Steve only looks at you, waiting for the questions to come. Bucky halts you, cutting you off before you can even start.

“That’s very nice, doll. But those questions can wait. Me and Steve’ve been watching you for a while. Wanna safe those questions for a date?”

_____

Tags:

@cametobuyplums @thamuddagirl @tranquil--heart @buckmesideways22 @stuck-y-together @buckysthot

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writteninsunshine · 3 years

Text

Death Is A Beginning Not An End Chp 001/025 - Jerry Dandridge/Ed Lee - SFW

Title: Death Is A Beginning Not An End

Author: Reno

Fandom: Fright Night

Setting: Various

Pairing: Jerry Dandridge/”Evil” Ed Lee (Main), Charley Brewster/Amy Peterson, Past Mark/”Evil” Ed Lee, Charley Brewster/Peter Vincent/”Evil” Ed Lee

Characters: Jerry Dandridge, “Evil” Ed Lee, Charley Brewster, Peter Vincent, Mark, Amy Peterson, Jane Brewster, Adam, Ben, OC: Heather Charles

Genre: Romance/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Drama

Rating: E

Chapters: 1/25

Word Count: 2379

Type Of Work: Chapter Fic

Status: Incomplete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, AU - Omegaverse, AU - A/B/O, AU - Soulmates, AU - Canon Divergent, Vampire Typical Violence, Omega Ed Lee, Alpha Jerry Dandridge, Alpha Peter Vincent, Alpha Charley Brewster, Violence, Gore, Character Death, Cunnilingus, Blowjobs, Virgin Ed Lee, Vaginal Sex, Threesomes, Pack Mating, A/B/O Dynamics, Vampire Turning, Vampires Feeding, Underage, Charley and Ed are 17

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except Heather.

Summary: "Every time I find you, I turn you. I won't make that mistake again."

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunnywritings, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: https://discord.gg/FyaWw25

So, there are absolutely no stories for my OTP for this fandom, so I have to feed myself content. Hopefully, someone will see it and also want to spread the love for these two. At any rate, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, it’ll be kind of long. I have no idea how long, but I hope that I can do them justice.

Fright Night Fic Masterlist

Chapter One: Bright Lights

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been weeks since the last time he’d heard from Charley, and Ed was starting to get offended. How could his best friend just up and abandon him like this for the popular guys? Mark and Ben were assholes, the worst kind, gaping, infected, disgusting. Ed couldn’t fathom hanging out with the two stoners, but he figured Charley saw something in them because he spent all his time with them and Amy.

Still, Ed was feeling left out. Charley had been so close to him and Adam, and now it was just radio static on his end. He’d decided that after school, he would try to go see if he could get a hold of Charley by going to his house. His parents had needed him at home, however, so he’d gone home to handle his chores and the family trip to Pizza Hut. After his room was clean, the garbage was on the curb, and his belly was full, the sun was already starting to set. Regardless, he was going to see Charley even if it killed him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have had that thought.

As he walked, he listened to a playlist on his iPod that would hopefully give him the confidence to confront his friend. When he saw Charley’s house up the street, he pulled his headphones out and started to cross over the neighbor’s lawn, jogging lightly.

“Hey!” A rather muscular man snapped at him, standing in the shadow of his house, “Don’t run on my lawn!” The Alpha barked, using the tone he knew would make the Omega listen. Ed paused, staring at him for a moment, just standing on his lawn with wide eyes, not unlike a deer in the headlights.

“What did I just say,” His statement wasn’t a question, but a barked order, and he narrowed his eyes as he crossed his lawn with all the power and grace of a tiger stalking its prey, “Move, Omega.” He growled, finally close enough to touch the teen before him. He’d smelled the Omega on him from far away, but suddenly he was hit with a strong, desperate need to be close. It made him take pause, blinking a little.

He was the one. The one he’d been searching for.

Taking Ed by his armpits, he lifted him up like he weighed nothing and strolled to the sidewalk, placing him down gently on the concrete. Ed continued to stare up at him, somehow feeling safe with the glaring Alpha. It was strange, he didn’t know what was happening to him. Most Alphas made him feel flighty and skittish when they were older, and now he felt like he’d die if he left his presence.

“Stay off my lawn, okay?” The man’s voice was softer, now, a purr threatening to underline his words. “I’m Jerry, by the way.”

“Ed.” Finally, he found his voice, nodding a little, “I… Y-yeah, I’ll stay off it.”

Ed couldn’t believe how strange he felt right now, drawn to this stranger like he’d known him his entire life.

“Nice to meet you, Ed.” It was hard not to call him something else, any pet name he could. ‘Precious’ came to mind and he had to shake his head to relieve himself of the thought. “Now, get.” He patted the Omega’s back, giving him a little push in the direction he’d been going.

“Yeah.” Ed nodded, still lost in the fog of being near Jerry. He started walking, hesitant to leave, towards Charley’s house, looking over his shoulder as Jerry started for his front door. “Fuck.” He muttered, rubbing at his hip a little as he took the steps to the door at a jog. Knocking on the door, he waited for a minute or so before ringing the doorbell. It hit him as he rang that he didn’t remember walking to the door.

Jane answered after another ring, and Ed smiled at her. Her return smile was tight, almost sad.

“Hey, Ed.” She offered lamely, “Looking for Charley?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I need to talk to him about something.” Nervousness and an odd sense of despair filled him and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, “Is he home?”

Jane visibly tried to sort out an answer and Ed knew that meant he was home but had asked not to speak to him. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Nevermind.”

“No, no.” She sighed, unable to handle the sadness tinging his scent, “ He’s home, upstairs in his room. I don’t know if he’s asleep already or not.” She told him, stepping aside and opening the door up for him. “Come on in.”

With a nod, Ed entered the house, hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting with them.

“Thanks.” He smiled, though it was saddened, anxious, it didn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s no trouble, just knock before you go in.” She knew her son needed his privacy sometimes, and she didn’t know what he was doing up there at the moment.

“Yeah, I will.” He almost didn’t want to. Heading up the stairs, he sighed as he came to a stop in front of the other’s room. He knocked twice before entering without waiting for an ‘okay’, afraid he would lose his nerve.

“Ed!? What the hell, man!?” Charley exclaimed, eyes wide as he put down the book he was reading for class. He laid out on his bed, one leg bent up against the mattress., but he shot up when Ed entered the room, “You’re supposed to wait before coming in!” He added, eyes narrowing. “What do you want?” It was clear Charley wasn’t impressed with him just showing up unannounced. Even his mom didn’t warn him.

“It’s not like you’re masturbating, I don’t see the problem. I need to talk to you, asshole.” Ed snarled, crossing his arms and shaking his head, “What’s the deal? You’re just going to abandon me and Adam for those dickweeds?”

“Man, you don’t get it,” Charley sighed, shaking his head. The Alpha smelled acrid like he was pained, but Ed ignored it the best he could. “I need this.”

“You need this? Why? I don’t think Amy cares who you’re friends with! Those assholes are gonna throw you to the wolves the second you fuck up.”

“They’re…” He wanted to say ‘good friends’, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it in front of the best friend he’d ever had, “Not so bad.” That was the best he could do.

“Not so bad? Not so bad?” Ed’s voice was shrill and it was clear he didn’t like to hear that. “Mark’s been bullying me since grade school!”

“I… I know, but he’s better, now.” He wasn’t actually better, if anything, his bullying had gotten worse.

“He’s just better because you aren’t a target anymore.” Ed huffed, growling a little under his breath. “I can’t fucking believe you. You can’t ever hang out with me anymore? Not even a little bit? Come on, man, this isn’t you.”

“It’s me, now, Ed.” Charley snapped, eyes narrowing, “Grow up, move on, it’s time we both did.”

Ed had to hold back from another growl, taking a deep, steadying breath and trying not to lose his mind over this. Charley was pissing him off something awful and he was ready to go back to the good feeling he had when he was with Jerry. His thoughts strayed to him and he couldn’t help but bite back a smile. This was no time to feel soft and mushy over a stranger he’d just met.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Charley.” He growled, finally finding his ability to speak. “I hope you rot for this, it’s not fucking fair.”

And Ed was right, it wasn’t fair, and Charley knew that. But he had to keep up appearances. Amy wouldn’t want to date a loser like he used to be. He needed to be cool, and hanging out with Mark and Ben made him cool. It wasn’t like Amy would accept him being friends with Ed and Adam. He had to move on, and he was trying so hard. It wasn’t easy, especially with the scent of despair mixing with the calming scent of rosemary and fire filling his room. Ed was clearly upset and all he wanted to do was hug the Omega standing in his doorway. Soothing him with his scent and a firm hold sounded like the best option, but he went still and glued himself to his bed instead.

“I… Yeah, maybe I am an asshole.” He conceded, shaking his head and standing up. “But you know what? This is my life, now. If you can’t accept it, then I guess you won’t accept that I’ve moved on and that’s fine. I’m not about to abandon my life for you. We can’t be doing... Whatever this is.”

“You’re such a dickweasel, you know that? When they turn on you, and they will, don’t come crying to me. I won’t take you back.” Ed snapped, finally turning on his heels and storming out of the room. It was possible, he realized, that Ed was crying. There was a salty scent in the room, now, and he felt his stomach sink. Charley wanted so badly to call him back, but he heard the front door slam and knew it was too late.

Texting Amy, he hoped she would offer him some form of solace.

[Text To: Amy, 8:07 PM] Hey, what are you up to?

[Text To: Charley Barley, 8:09 PM] Just getting ready for bed, wyd?

[Text To: Amy, 8:09 PM] Ed came over

[Text To: Amy, 8:10 PM] I feel like shit. He’s pissed.

[Text To: Charley Barley, 8:14 PM] Oh shit, u ok?

[Text To: Amy, 8:18 PM] I don’t think so. It hurts

[Text To: Charley Barley, 8:20 PM] U don’t have to leave him u kno. He’s still ur bff.

[Text To: Amy, 8:21 PM] It’s too late now, I don’t think he is anymore. He called me a dickweasel and an asshole and stormed out of my house.

[Text To: Charley Barley, 8:22 PM] It’s not 2 late, apologize.

Her words rang true. He should apologize, but he didn’t think that he could. It wasn’t like Ed was going to respond. He was too angry, now. But he thought he’d try, anyway, at least he could send him a message. He spent a solid five minutes writing and rewriting his text.

[Text To: Evil, 8:27 PM] Hey, man, look, I’m sorry, okay? I just can’t do this right now. I can’t just up and leave, they’ll kill me.You think you have it bad but they would CRUCIFY me. It’s safer having them on my side than against me. I’m sorry they hurt you, maybe I can get them to leave you alone.

At least in his presence, he could help somewhat. Maybe if he influenced Mark and Ben enough, nothing bad would happen.

Ed turned on his read receipts on his phone, leaving Charley on read so he could see how angry he was. What else did Charley expect, an acceptance letter? There was no way after what had just happened that he’d do that. Still, the text on his phone kept him up most of the night, spending time browsing the web didn’t help, either. He ended up on Peter Vincent’s website, as he did, rereading something about vampires in California. It was always interesting to read about it, even if he’d reread this story a thousand times. Maybe he should check something else.

He turned to a forum he was part of, searching for ways to talk to Charley. No one was helpful, all of them told him not to accept the apology. Somewhere deep down, he wanted to. He picked up his phone several times, writing out responses before he ended up deleting them.

Charley didn’t sleep well that night, either, thinking about what he’d said and how he could make it up to his friend. Maybe they could hang out after school sometime if Evil would even look at him.

The next day in class was horrible, with Ed shooting him looks that told him he wanted to talk, and then glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill, Charley would be full of knives in the back. Even after class, Ed turned his back on him, stomping out of class like it was the best thing he’d ever done.

“Hey, man, you look… Shitty.” Mark commented with a raised eyebrow, leaning on Charley’s locker, “You okay?” He didn’t really care, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Uh, yeah. I just didn’t sleep last night.” Not well, anyway. He’d had a nightmare that Ed had died, and he didn’t really know what to do with that.

“You gonna sleep during class?” Ben asked, though he didn’t really mind either way. It wouldn’t affect him. That was what Ben always did when he couldn’t sleep at night.

“I dunno, maybe.” He had social studies next, and that meant he’d probably sleep to the teacher’s droning monotone.

“Cool, cool.” Mark brushed it off easily, “You should get some sleep, and then we’re going out after school.”

“We are?” That would throw a wrench into his plans with Ed, for sure. But maybe it would give Ed time to cool off. With any luck, he’d come to actually accept his apology if he just gave him some time.

“We are. You, me, Ben, the car, some weed.” Maybe they’d troll the mall after smoking a bit. “We could go out somewhere, get some food.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” Charley needed some time to think, and maybe the weed would help his mood.

“Alright, see you then, man.” Mark and Ben started for their next class, leaving Charley to his thoughts. He spun the dial and opened his locker, getting out his book for his social studies class.

He worried that Ed would never accept his apology, and that cut him to the core. All he wanted was for Ed to forgive him and for things to go back to normal, but he guessed this was his new normal, now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Alright, chapter one is in the bag! I’m really feeling this story so hopefully I can get through it without any issues. I hope you guys enjoyed it!!

#Fright Night Fanfic #Fright Night Fanfiction #Jerry Dandridge x Ed Lee #Jerry Dandridge #Evil Ed Lee #Omegaverse #Soulmates AU #chapter fic

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missmaxime · 4 years

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17! 18! 30! 32! 38! <3 <3 <3

Thank you for these! 🥰 17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t. Well, not immediately. I try to distract myself for at least half an hour to an hour after posting because by the time I post I’ve already gone mental from finaFinalreRerereadFiNaldefDEFDEF.def x34 and I need to calm down. But after that I compulsively refresh AO3 (for the Beth/Rio tag) and depending on the time of day I start replying to comments or wait for it until morning. I don’t re-read my own fic until at least the day after (and inevitably fix some v obvs spelling mistakes I got blind for during edits). 18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? A little while ago I would have maybe said Wild at Heart, but I recently started editing the new chapter and now I’m feeling that story again (I got a bit lost with it over season 3, and it’s a long fic I’m not really used to writing – I had no oversight in my notes and outline and ugh). I think when I do publish it might have a bit of a different tone, especially because I think I progressed a lot over the past six months as a writer. But I have by now accepted that I will never re-write those earlier chapters, so I’m just going to move on and continue the story. BTW. If someone can recommend a/their Word Processor to get a better oversight in longer WIPs, please do! There’s no published WIP I won’t get back to from what I see now. I have a few in my WIP-folder that are a lost cause, main reasons are either because I either forgot I wrote it to begin with, or because I don’t like my style or plot anymore. 30. Post a snippet from you’re a current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. From a WIP I definitely won’t abandon, but one that’s also taking me crazy long to write (because world-building):

Annie swallows everything down, but keeps the bowl of candies protectively close to her chest. “I can’t believe they reached out to you twenty years later,” she says, plopping down next to Beth. “I can’t believe they subpoenaed me.” Annie sits up. “Technically they summoned you—” Beth gives her a look that immediately shuts her up. “You know, it’s good they did. They probably got a notification that you got rid of your Dean-shaped baggage and thought: Presto Matcho, and let’s go!” “Maybe I don’t want to be matched up.” “Relax, sis. Just go out on a date, get those cobwebs cleaned out if he’s a seven or up, and move on with your life!” “Annie!” “You’re right, maybe don’t be that picky, make it a six.” Beth’s all fired up to blow a gasket when a man with a bird tattoo sprawled on his neck enters the waiting room, accompanied by a dark-haired woman in a suit. They’re in a heated discussion, going through a pile of papers that’s full of marked segments and bookmarks. Beth’s getting a bit lost in thought, looking at him when she feels Annie leaning her head on her shoulder. “I served him too,” she whispers in Beth’s ear, pulling her back into reality again. “You!” she hears the guy say, pointing at Annie, who immediately throws her hands up in defense, totally forgetting she was holding the candy bowl which immediately tumbles onto the ground, scattering its contents over the floor. “Hey, I’m just here for my sister, don’t come at me bro!” she tries to laugh it nervously away. He doesn’t think it’s funny. But his gaze lingers on Beth a longer time than might be appropriate before turning his attention back to the woman beside him. 32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? I can have different favorites varying on the week / day. It usually changes when I post a new fic. Sometimes I’m not even super in love with a line when I post it, but it grows on me when I re-read later. So just three random ones: Regardless of his repeat observation of ‘you’re so tight, baby’, she’s definitely not going to indulge him with the Snoozefest Saga of her sex life of the past decade. – from Stuck in the Middle It’s a decision he almost immediately regrets. Apparently, Elizabeth is very convinced of her (faulty) navigation skills. And mind you, he has an essentially AI-worthy navigation system build into his (“Is this what you drive? Don’t you think it’s a little… out there? Like, surely you don’t really need something so preposterous to arrive in?” she had laughed cutely after that, but he felt slapped in the face – and not the kind he might be paying her for) G-wagon. – from The Girlfriend Experience “Yeah,” he smiles. “We real good friends too, aren’t we?” he says suggestively. (It’s just, he can’t help it, knows it’s dumb and petty but ugh. He’s suffered through Mick’s eye-rolls enough after returning from a No Elizabeth Murder Night again. The other guy casually looking up from polishing his custom ninja throwing stars - don’t start about it, it’s a whole thing, and Rio’s convinced the man can’t even get them into a wall a three feet away if he wears that one jacket - waiting for Rio to cock his head and ask: “What?” “Nothing,” he had replied, dipping a cloth into the jar of polish. “’Nothing’?” Rio had repeated – a little more petulant than he intended. “What are you, my wife?” Ever so slowly, the corners of Mick’s mouth had turned upwards. “Heard spot’s taken.” Rio may have keyed Mick’s car that night.) Beth smiles back stiffly. - from I See Your True Technicolors I don’t know, I really like doing these kinda scene-in-scene (or sentence) things, I don’t know if this has a name. 38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? Hmm that kind of depends what part of the process we’re talking about. Let’s roughly break that up in three parts: 1. Working out the idea (8/10): Really, really chaotic. This is just days or weeks of just flashes of ideas and plotpoints and lines of dialogue shooting through my brain. Haphazardly writing those down in various docs, on paper in between my work notes, or in the notes on my phone. When I finally know the rough outline of the story I go into; 2. Writing the fic (4/10): I’m a super chronological writer, I really move from scene A to B to C until I finally arrive at Z. But when I start writing I often only really know A, D, E, J, O, Q, Z – the rest will just grow or appear organically as I write. Sometimes it does mean I won’t write for a few days because I circle back to step 1 for a certain scene. A good example is the Artic Hunter Fairytale Beth tells Jane in Chapter 2 of I See Your True Technicolors. I knew up front I was going to write a scene where we would see how this seemingly unweighted moment for Beth – she’s just telling a nighttime story – had a massive impact on Jane. There were some themes and motives I felt like needed to make an appearance: the more tangible reason of Jane’s quest, how young kids often hold their parents’ word as truth, and I needed it to be a true heartfelt moment between Beth and Jane. But before I wrote the first line of that scene I had no idea that would be the scene that it became. So I do outline a bit, but I need to create enough room for myself for moments like that to happen. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about writing. It’s a bit of an organized mess within a tighter frame/outline. 3. Editing (7/10): I’ve really been perfecting my Editing skills over the past 6/7 months – it’s not perfect, but you live and you learn. I spend more time working on the fic after I ‘finished’ it, really ramped up the spelling and grammar checks (I love you Word editor, but I also hate you), and take more and more care to make sure that all my dialogue feels IC ánd distinctive enough per character (especially the latter I feel like lacks in earlier WAH chapters). So, work in progress, but I feel pretty confident in this one. Again, thanks for sending these! <3

#asks #writer asks #fanfiction #my fanfic

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tenpin-boleyn · 5 years

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Boleyn x Parr Part 1

Hi guys! This is my first “fic” per say, and most of the stuff I've covered, I haven't written about before so its rather crap, but yolo (Yolt in the queens case) This was supposed to be a short fic but I got carried away and it became 2 parts. oops

This is also my first time using the Keep reading link so I AM PRAYING IT WORKSSSSS.

Warnings: Teen Pregnancy, Panic Attacks, Brief mention of sex but only in passing, alcohol and mentions of an underage party. I think that’s all but please feel free to message me if you'd like any added! Its no problem at all! :)

Anne was no quiet person, her teachers knew this, the other queens knew this and her girlfriend certainly did. So when she was missing from breakfast and silent during the duration of maths, Parr was definitely worried. Parr was the only one of the queens in any of Annes classes, much to the delight of Cath of Aragon, so the change in Anne went undetected or brushed away with “that girl has used so much energy it’s a wonder she hasn’t burnt out already”. Maths was usually Parr’s favourite subject- she got to sit next to her girlfriend and pass off their chatter as Anne needing help but with Anne taking a spontaneous vow of silence, she was left alone with her thoughts.

Catherine cast her mind back to when Anne first asked her out, they were both in the dance studio after a long day. Parr was sat on the floor doing her homework, and Boleyn was skating around in her Heelys, trying to figure out how to do Ballet on wheels. She had suddenly stopped and was staring at Parr, who was too absorbed in her history book to notice. She remembered how Anne had dropped to the floor and scooted over to where she was sat. “Listen Parr, what I am about to tell you is strictly confidential. Your ears only.” Catherine couldn’t help but giggle as she remembered how childish Anne had been at the time, well more childish than she was now, which made Anne look up from her maths book and give a weak smile. This made Parr’s heart break a little as she delved back into her memory. “I like you. Not as a friend. Well yeah as a friend but more than a friend. And not best friends either, I mean you are my best friend but- look what I’m trying to say is, do you want to go out with me?” Parr had obviously said yes, but only after she had laughed a bit over how speechless Anne was- it was such a rare occurrence, she couldn’t help but laugh.

But what brought her back to maths was a muffled sob from Boleyn, before she grabbed her bag and ran out of the classroom yelling “I’ve got my period don’t give me detention!” in her typical Boleyn style. Anne had forgotten to pack anything away when she took her bag, so Parr quickly gathered her things as well as her own and followed her girlfriend. Anne had been banned from wearing her “medically assigned Heelys” after she broke a year 7s leg, so she couldn’t have gone too far. Catherine suspected that Anne had gone to the cafeteria to get a cookie, but the sobs from the lockers proved differently. She took a moment, intensely listening to the sobs trying to figure out if they were her girlfriends, before hearing a gulp, signally that Anne had forgotten to breathe. Parr had calmed Anne down after enough nightmares to be able to tell that it was her. She instantly rushed in, saw Boleyn and dumped their bags as she swept her up in a hug. They sat there for a few minutes, just glad of the others presence, before Anne dug deeper into her girlfriends chest. She let out a last sob before you could hear, “Cathy I’m scared.” Parr instinctively started playing with Anne's hair, “I’m here babe, there’s nothing to be scared of. Not even the demon PE teacher” she laughed, hoping to cheer Anne up with comedy; a trick she picked up from Anne herself.

“Miss Mason should be scared of me smh. But Listen Parr, what I am about to tell you is strictly confidential. Your ears only” At this phrase Catherine giggled, this was exactly what Anne had said to her before asking her out. But instead of laughing, Anne smacked her girlfriend- “I’m being serious Cathy.”

Anne had a kind of voice that made everything sound like a joke- the perfect voice for a comedian or maybe even an actor, but those last words were so broken and sad; it shook Parr to the core. “Please don’t hate me.” “Annie, the day I hate you is the day pigs fly.” “Didn’t Aragon fly to Spain?” Again this made Parr chuckle but she quickly smothered this with a cough. “Not what I meant, but tell me what’s wrong. I swear on my geography book and on Aragon’s bible that I will not get mad at you”

Anne looked at her nervously before spilling the beans (not literally because she’s been banned from having beans after she spilt the entire bowl onto her duvet and now there’s an orange patch) “Remember Carries 16th?” “Unfortunately. The amount of drunk teenagers throwing up on me isn’t something I’m about to forget.” “I had a few too many Smirnoff Ices, and a few too many Cherryade Vodkas, a few too much of everything, and I lost you. So I managed to crawl over to Charlie, but he was smashed too, so we went to a room so we could sleep off the alcohol before you found me.” Catherine took a gulp of her own. She knew what was about to be said, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “I don’t remember what happened, like at all- but babe I’m scared.” “I don’t understand?” “I missed my period. I’m too young for a child, last time I was older, I had a palace, money- I wasn’t 16!” Catherine was trying to figure out what to say- but before she could answer Anne spoke up again. “Funny isn’t it. I lose my virginity for the second time, with one of my best friends who hasn’t spoken to me since, and I get pregnant. How the fuck do I tell Jane.” Catherine could feel Anne's breathing start to increase. If she didn’t do something soon, Anne would start hyperventilating and fall into a panic attack. “Annie okay. It’s me, Cathy. I need you to follow my breathing okay. In for one, out for one. In for one out for one. Okay in for 2, out for 2. That’s a good girl. Keep going honey, deep breaths, that’s good. You’re doing great! One more for me, deep breath in, and release.” Before Anne could start panicking again, Parr clenched her against her chest, wishing with all of her that she could take this pain from her. Yes Parr was hurt that Anne promised they’d wait until both of them were ready, but this time it really wasn’t her fault. She didn’t entirely blame Charlie either, but she knew that she would give him a firm talking to after she had taken Anne home. “Look Anne, you’re the strongest girl I know, and we can get through this together? When I said yes to being your girlfriend, I said yes to sticking by you through thick and thin. Should we go down to medical and get a pass to go home? Jane won’t be home and neither with Aragon, you can pretend to be sick or-“ “Sounds good.” With that Anne started to rub her eyes and stood up, helping Parr up too. “Thank you. For not yelling at me- or being angry.” “For you, id never be angry again” “Even if Aragon kept on stealing your bibles when I hid hers” Anne whispered as she took Parr’s hand. “Even if Aragon kept on stealing my bibles, and even when you keep bringing Aragon into every anecdote.” Parr laughed, squeezing Boleyn’s hand comfortingly.

#anne boleyn #catherine parr #okay but thank you anon for this ship #i feel like you meant it as a friendship but oops #hope you like this anyway :)#six the musical #annie my darling child #cathy my sweet baby

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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 26 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So I was almost done editing this part in Tumblr earlier today and then my laptop, for some reason, decided to close the window, and of course I hadn’t saved it as a draft, so I lost everything I’d formatted! Including my many meticulous links for this chapter that has about 235453636 details! So, that was great!!! I had to start from scratch and find everything again (thank goddess for Google search history for once), and it took a really fucking long time--your encouraging comments for this part in particular would mean a lot because knowing anyone is actually reading will soften my deep frustration at spending literally my entire day on posting this chapter. I’ve said this before but this fic is primarily about two things: 1) big cosmic fucking love (emphasis on the FUCKING) and 2) CLOTHES, hence me elaborating on their outfits constantly ad nauseam, so if you’re ever wondering why I talk about their clothes so goddamn much, it’s because clothes are very erotic/important to me and they are a big part of the way I tell a story, especially this one. Kenzie manifests Telekinesis in this part. Oberon and Titania are the fabled King and Queen of the Fae, and the lines Duncan and Kenzie speak to each other are from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. Kenzie sings CRYSTAL to Duncan before they sleep--that song is very important to Duckenzie, and it will probably show up again before the end. Kenzie’s outfit in this part/part of the next: her wrap crop top, her cut-off shorts, her black bikini, her Vans. Other stuff she packs: the rust-colored mini dress, the pink rose mini-dress, the white mini-dress, the white crop top, the denim shortalls, her Timberland boots, her boot sandals, the black dress with the buckle, the gray cardigan, the gray long-sleeved top, the long linen dress with roses. I can’t find the original sunflower-colored maxi dress I based hers on now; it was sort of like this but with short sleeves. Duncan’s outfit in this part: his button-down, his jersey shorts, his Suede Pumas. Other stuff he packs: the navy flannel, the other button-down, the Nike club hoodie, the zip-up hoodie, chino shorts, tee shirts, relaxed chinos, Nike hiking boots, fitted chinos, the feather shirt Kenzie likes, his black swim trunks. My Duncan doesn’t wear jeans, and Kenzie rarely wears pants; that’s just their stylistic preferences. His suitcase, her suitcase, her moon and sun tote. The Yeti coolers look like this and apparently keep stuff cold, like, FOREVER. Here’s the stargazing book, which I have. Duncan’s gold weed pipe looks like this and was inspired by these pictures of Cody smoking a weird vape, and also was inspired by the fact that he’s apparently (sources tell me) a big stoner irl, which I love. Pullman’s The Golden Compass/Northern Lights is indeed about parallel universes, among other things. I had to make them listen to Kiiara’s Gloe, a song that definitely sounds like it’s about Duckenzie, as I mentioned before. The Blue Skies remix is this one by Maya Jane Coles. I’m the bitch who has loved WUTHERING HEIGHTS fiercely since middle school, hence me giving Kenzie that love/a good recollection of it. I love writing their little conversations so fucking much--just my moon babies, in love. The route to Deep Creek Lake really is via a road called Lakeside Trail. The luxury cabin was inspired by two different models, this one for the front, this one for the back. The gazebo looks like this, more or less. The front room looks sort of like this, but with darker wood, no TV, a bigger fireplace (something like this, with dark stone around instead of the white wood), and not as much taxidermy. The Swarovski chandelier is like this. The bed is like this, the headboard like this, the gold laurels, and Annie Swynnerton’s Cupid and Psyche, which, fuck it, I’m saying is the real thing that Annette bought at an auction at some point (now I want a print of that one too, I love it so much, especially the flower crown in Cupid’s hair). The copper bathtub will feature again soon. I looked at this photo of Billie and this one of Cody a lot while I wrote this chapter; that’s my Kenzie and my Duncan. I said this to Luna ( @misslunarayne ) yesterday--but sometimes I get so overwhelmed by how much I love what I’m creating that I legitimately feel like I’m going to pass the fuck out. ART AND LOVE ARE THE DRUG, LADIES/GENTS/NONBINARY FOLKS. As ever, your likes, reblogs, asks, comments and edits mean the world to me. Get ready for ~a lot~ of fucking in the next chapter.

And here at the end of the evening, watching the night lights of the District of Columbia scatter and disperse as Duncan drove them back to the penthouse, Kenzie was full of contentment.

It washed over her like water, like a tide; to be inside this moment with you, Duncan, is like the purest solitude. To be inside your mind as I know you’re in mine, and to feel so much peace inside that certainty. Despite the pressing chaos of the Gala, a chaos that had tried unsuccessfully to disturb them, Kenzie knew that in the future, she’d only retain the joy from this night in her memories: Lindy and Gabby in their floral dresses, tears in Lindy’s eyes, the purity of the happiness Kenzie had felt in Duncan’s arms as the photographers snapped their cameras wildly, the way Duncan had fucked her so passionately, so utterly, his voice dipping into her ear (you are the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt, will ever feel, you’re mine and I’m infinitely blessed) his lips open on her neck, the press of the plug still inside her now, holding him inside her, the look of him leaning next to Day, his face serene, happy, and oh-so-deeply beautiful, the nostalgic joy in his gaze as he had flipped through the mythology book now safely resting on her lap. The dark beauty of him now, the dark shadow shrouding his blue gaze, glancing at her singing, the adoration in his eyes so strong it made her shiver.

“I love you so much,” he said, his tone resolute and aching, then with his mind, I love you so much, I love you, love you, love you forever angel, my angel, divine goddess his thoughts echoed against her, devolving down into blue warmth like a fading fire. “Baby, we finally get to be alone. Really alone. Oh god, I can’t wait. I might never want to come back. Would you come live in the woods with me, wild and free, Princess Kenzie?” Duncan’s gold Cartier bracelet glinted on his elegant wrist as he deftly jerked the steering wheel, his eyes glancing between her and the road, that angelic smile playing at his mouth, dizzying her. As it always will.

“I would, Fae Prince,” Kenzie drifted her fingers along the frayed edges of the mythology book, gazing up at him from the halo of her eyelashes. She felt the waves of his delight at that--the shy approval of his acceptance. The romance of this evening is ours. It exists because it exists between us. That’s all there is--this. Us. And you truly are my Prince. “Oberon of the fairies.”

“Am I not thy lord, Titania?” Duncan grinned at her, and the blue depth of his eyes flashed darkly, and Kenzie’s breath caught. Oh sweet Goddess, you are. My body is yours and you know it is. My soul clings to yours as though it’s the lifeblood of me. Your soul is mine and the knowledge of you encircles my heart and I’m overcome in its beauty. You are my lord. You are my Hades in your shadowed majesty, my Dionysus in your wanton desire for me, if I am Titania, you are Oberon most assuredly, the moon to my sun, the sun to my moon, the sky that holds the stars of me, and my lord. Always.

“Then I must be thy lady,” Kenzie replied, reaching for his hand--Duncan grasped it with fingers hot and insistent, his thoughts bursting with warmth at her words, pulling them away a moment later as he turned the steering wheel again, onto the side-street where the high-rise was tucked off the main road, in its serene stretch of manicured lawn. The moon was silhouetted in almost the very center of the sky, not quite descending west yet. The G-Class shut off with almost no sound at all--its sleek, streamlined affect seemed almost intelligent, knowing. Kenzie looked up into the sky, gentle moonlight kissing her cheeks as she slid out of the passenger seat, brushing her hair from her shoulders--waves of it had freed themselves from Hannah’s ordered mess of roses and Kenzie watched several petals scatter on the sidewalk around her as her hand fell. She turned to Duncan, who had exited the car, coming up behind her, his hand drifting across the back of her head, down the cascade of her rosy hair. His eyes were on the petals that had fallen to the ground, then he looked at her as she turned to him, her hair still sliding through his fingers, and she could feel the ache of his mind, knew what he was thinking, saw his earnest vulnerability, felt the pounding of his heart, heard the rapid beating of her own.

I want to ask you to marry me, he was thinking. I want to ask you, Kenzie. I want to so much...

Kenzie shook her head a little, her mouth dipping open, her hand coming up to his stubbled cheek--in that hazy ring of moonlight, the stars shrouded by city lights but still almost visible above them, in that cocoon of night, and the rest of the world seemed to be utterly still but for the distant sounds of traffic far off in the distance, the slightness of the summer wind.

Not yet, Duncan. Not yet. Wait until we find out--find out whatever it is. The thing that’s coming. You feel it too. I know you do, as certainly as the dawn, as the moon in the sky right now. It’s almost here. The knowledge--the secret thing.

“Wait,” Kenzie whispered, and Duncan’s hands came down to her cheeks, and he held her there with such a delicate sweetness Kenzie felt herself immediately begin to cry. A tear drifted down from her eye to his thumb, and Duncan brushed it away, his mouth falling open in dismay. She smiled--it’s okay, baby, my sweet Prince, it’s okay. My tears are a relief to me inside your love. It moves me so much, I have to cry. “Just wait a little bit longer. Just a little longer, okay?”

Duncan was nodding, and Kenzie could see the threat of tears on him, too--he drifted his fingers against her for another moment, his face, shrouded in shadow and angelic as a painting on the roof of some holy chapel, leaning down to her, his height enveloping her, filling her with solace. The wind was drifting into his curls, and Kenzie felt utterly moved by what seemed to be on the horizon--she felt lost inside its rising call, the feeling of it suddenly swirling around them like a whirling sphere of gold, the sidewalk deserted, the night so quiet. It was as if they’d suddenly been transported to another universe, imperceptibly, in the hair’s-breadth span of a moment. Everything looked the same, but the air was different, charged with a potency that seemed alien. Because that other universe is always so close, Kenzie thought, her mind hazy with Duncan’s eyes. Isn’t it? That’s true, isn’t it, baby? That other universe, and all of them, hovering nearby.

Then the thought, imperceptible, obtuse--and the feeling--drifted away. Duncan still seemed to be lost inside her mind, in her gaze--she could feel him, rosy and desirous, falling down the curves of her body, the invisible touch of him along the golden gown she still wore, the fingers of his soul at her throat, imagining her in the throes of his passionate attentions. Kenzie shivered, then gently pulled his hand down from her cheek; Duncan dutifully gathered her train over his arm, and they walked down the pathway to the high-rise’s entrance with the moon shining on them, watchful, and its face seemed familiar again, no longer the hidden moon from a moment ago, Kenzie thought, but our moon again, though I know the other moon--those other moons--are always behind this one, aren’t they? Those other moons live beside our moon, and together they echo through time. Tonight there’s a thinness--and in that thinness, there are visible things that will vanish when daylight comes again.

It was well past midnight now, and neither Anchaly or Jerry were anywhere to be seen--a security guard sat in Anchaly’s usual seat at the front desk, and he glanced up at Duncan and Kenzie, then did a nervous double-take. Kenzie smiled at him, yep it’s us, those Instagram stars, then Duncan was pulling her with him into the elevator out of the guard’s eyesight, and she was falling against him, the book and her clutch in her arms pressing into his belly; she could see that Duncan had closed his eyes in the mirror in front of them, and his face was lined with tiredness now, the makeup there no longer able to conceal it. Lost in the feeling of you, my constant comfort, my Kenzie, and Kenzie closed her eyes too, turning her nose into his shirt and breathing deeply, her hands coming up to clutch at the lapels of his jacket, the golden tips of his collar.

“I can’t believe we can finally be alone together, baby,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it. Really alone. I’ve missed the woods so much--and we’ll be together--”

“Wait until you see it, baby,” Duncan said as they walked to the penthouse door. He was tiredly reaching for his wallet, but his hand slipped and he dropped it--Kenzie smiled, dipping down to pick it up, holding her clutch and the mythology book against her chest with her elbows, opening it, loving the feeling of the leather in her fingers (because it’s his, because it belongs to him) as she pulled his keycard out (there were at least ten other cards in it, and at least ten or twelve hundred dollar bills alongside two dozen crisp twenty dollars bills--Kenzie recognized his Black AmEx immediately amid several other American Express cards, scrunched her nose up at his license for a moment, SHEPHERD, DUNCAN MALCOLM, then the penthouse address, SEX M, HGT 5’11”, WGT 160, EYES BLU, DOB 07/06/1988, his solemn expression in it crushing her heart with affection), swiping it through the keypad beside the door. She tucked the keycard back inside the wallet and then, in a moment of abandon, lifted it to her mouth and kissed it. Duncan gave her a look of deep longing, lifting his chin back, eyes closing, biting his lip--then Kenzie reached behind her head, grasping the softness of one of the rose buds there, gently pulled at the petals--two in dark, aching red came out in her fingers, and she opened the side-nook of the wallet, slipping the petals inside.

“Just a memory of tonight,” she murmured, and slid the wallet back into his back pocket, her fingers lingering along the rise of his ass. Duncan dipped and caught her mouth inside his--he pulled the penthouse door open absently as they clung together, refusing to break apart as they stumbled inside, his hand coming down to press at the aching plug (still there, still pressing into me, aching with you now, aching with the length of my supplication to you, holding your release deep inside me). The tiredness in her seemed to dissipate now; she felt his lifting too, lifting in the cadence of his desire rising again. Kenzie noticed several shipping boxes piled by the kitchen island from the haze of his embrace, throwing the book and her clutch down on the obsidian surface, remembering the things she’d ordered for the trip a few days before, then returned to his touch, the feeling of his fingers.

“Bed. Come, baby.” Kenzie broke away from him, not even bothering to unwrap her shoes--you can do it in our bed, beloved. You will undress me. She ran to the bedroom, her train slipping from his fingers, away from him because she knew he’d follow, suddenly intoxicated with their bed’s serene black surface as it came into view--threw herself on it, watching with delight as the golden train of her dress floated out behind her, stretching off the bed in gathers that pilled along the dark wood. She turned from the position on her belly, crooking her knees as Duncan followed her into the room--he was suddenly on top of her, his much larger form enveloping her, pushing her gently down so her back was facing him, his legs on either side of her hips, his crotch pressing gently into her ass--his long fingers were instantly at the concealed zipper along her spine, pressing it down insistently. As he went lower he slid off the bed, hands coming up to begin to ease the sleeves from her arms, pulling her toward him with ease, and Kenzie turned to face him, laying on her back now as Duncan peeled the dress off her breasts. His mouth came down to one of her nipples as it came free, and Kenzie shuddered against him, against his lips, his hands working the dress down now, lips reluctantly pulling away so he could ease the dress from her hips, exposing the delicate panties he’d carefully helped her into again in that quiet powder room. Duncan had the exquisite dress Morgan had created for Kenzie in his hands now--Kenzie went to get up, but Duncan shook his head.

“Don’t, baby. Stay here.” Kenzie lay back, still wearing her golden heels and panties, her eyelids shivering, her breath gasping now in anticipation, rose petals scattered on the sheet behind her head. Duncan disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment, then reappeared a moment later without her dress. Too beautiful a thing to discard on the floor this time, she knew, and nodded to him, loving his thoughtfulness, his mindfulness. Duncan came up to the edge of the bed, his dark and gold jacket shimmering down at her, his darkly-shadowed eyes roving from her hair scattered on the bed around her to her breasts, her nipples shivering with hardness, then he dipped his (beautiful) hands to the waistband of her panties, pulling them down as he kneeled before her, kneeled before their bed. Your altar, she heard him, and she trembled, her body feeling too hot and too cold at once inside his blue eyes. Duncan.worked at the ties at her ankles with his graceful long hands, kissing the inclines of her feet as he pulled the shoes off, carefully setting them aside. Kenzie glanced over his shoulder, watching the shape of his back, the velvety gold of his blazer, the soft fall of his hair, kneeling before her in the Mirror. My Prince kneels before me, oh, fuck, Goddess--

“Do you want me to undress?” He asked her; and his thoughts were intensely earnest, his mind interested only in her needs, making her think of evening clouds drifting in an indigo sunset. Oh Duncan, you are so beautiful inside. So fucking lovely. I feel selfish to behold this part of you, this hidden wondrous beauty of you, but I can’t help it, I want it all to myself. Beloved, exalted in my eyes. You’re so beautiful to look at, but oh, Goddess, your real beauty is the one the world cannot see, and I am moved by him, that hidden self, body and soul.

“No--” Kenzie gasped as the cool air of the room drifted against the sensitivity of the plug, the hardness of her nipples, and her arms broke out in goosebumps. She moved her thighs apart as his hands pressed insistently up the incline of her legs, felt the lips of her sex spread open for him, the stretch of her asshole around the plug, wet with the residue of his come. “I want you to suck on me, Prince, give your mouth to me with your come held inside my naked body, worship my body that belongs to you--”

“Kenzie, fuck,” he whispered, then Duncan brought his face down close to the open lips of her, laving out his tongue, wet with spit that dripped from his aching mouth, to press insistently to her clit, lingering there as she writhed inside his grasp for a moment, lifting her chin to the ceiling and moaning in a soft, prolonged stream that she knew would drive him insane with longing--then one of his hands was drifting from her thigh to her belly, from her belly to pinch insistently at her breast, twisting her nipple in a hard grip that made her gasp, then drifting up further to her neck, to where she still wore Adelaide’s braided golden ruby, and Duncan pressed his elegant, achingly lovely hand into her there, and gripped her tightly as he sucked, hard and unrelenting, at her clit. Kenzie’s hips bucked up in a keening roll that bled into a steady rhythm, the whining cries from her sent out like entreating prayers to him, and she was murmuring his name, her hands thrown back, palms open at either side of her head, knowing he wanted her to stay still, knowing he wanted to hold her under his mercy in this moment, murmuring to him to try to keep herself from coming already, fuck, not yet, I want you to give me everything, my Prince, I dream of your mouth on me always, your devotions. The pressure of the plug in her ass was sending shocks up her spine with every convulsion of her cunt under his lips and tongue, and his hand at her throat was sweet with constriction.

“Choke me, baby,” she heard herself, whimpering, “Ch-choke me and suck my clit, I’m your angel baby and I n-need you--need you--fuck me with your mouth--”

“Mmmhm,” Duncan’s mouth was buried flush against her, but Kenzie could feel the rolling vibrations of his lips humming against her, and his hand was pressing with measured strength, harder, into her neck, the feeling of his fingers so intense they seemed to burn against her. Kenzie let out a little gasp, and Duncan moved his hand up to the dip of where her jaw began at the top of her throat; with careful insistence he pressed her chin back so her eyes couldn’t see him, were forced to look towards the wall behind them, the empty wall that she’d said they should put something on--for a brief second, Kenzie contemplated this again, wildly--we really should put something on that wall, something beautiful--and then Duncan was raising his head to rest his chin for a moment on her abdomen, still forcing her head back, his other hand coming down to rub at her clit so she’d have no reprieve from his attentions.

“Kenzie, you taste like fucking heaven, baby, like the fucking nectar of heaven, like ambrosia, you taste like wine made from the apples of trees that grow in paradise, I dream about the sweet scent of your cunt now and I wake up in hunger for you, all I want is you, you bless me to let me worship you this way, princess of heaven, my flower of the universe--”

Kenzie was shivering under his hand, her hips trembling, and she tried to move back from his fingers, loathe to come yet, loathe to miss his fingers touching her with such terrible sweetness, and she was murmuring between her gasping, heard herself say “put your fingers in my mouth, baby, make me suck on you too,” and he was nodding, bringing his index and middle fingers up to her wet, shuddering bottom lip, pulling her head back down to look at him, dipping them inside her to press on her tongue for a moment before drifting up so she could close her mouth on him, his other fingers still holding her head back, still keeping her steady, prostrate, and Kenzie sucked desperately at his (those hands, for me alone, let me worship you too, baby) fingers, whimpered into the feeling of his skin, and Duncan was burying his mouth against her again, his tongue gentle now, but no less insistent, dipping against her until she keened once more, keened against his arm pressed along her body between her breasts, holding her down for him, you like keeping me here, don’t you, baby, she drifted against him, you like holding me down, making me writhe for you, my angelic love--

“Fuck, yes,” Duncan’s reply was spoken aloud, and Kenzie knew he wanted to speak his longing into her, not just press his love to her sex, but speak it into the room, fill every corner with it. “I do, baby, I fucking do, I love you all to myself this way,” and he was licking along the curve of the lips of her sex, down to the dip of skin before the plug pushed snugly inside her, “Unng, baby, fuck, you taste so good--wait till we’re in the woods, I’m gonna fuck you every hour, fuck you until we’re so exhausted we have to sleep all day, and then we’ll wake up and fuck again, I’ll worship you again and again, into the night, under the stars, all through the day until the sun is dipping low in the sky--” he was dipping his fingers in and out of the wetness of her mouth now, making her moan with the sensation of being filled so with his lips and his fingers and the plug, still sending its shockwaves through her back every time Duncan made her cunt twinge; the space between her convulsions was becoming smaller and smaller, and she was beginning to see golden bursts of need in the corners of her vision, bearing down on her--Duncan seemed to sense how close she was treading to her orgasm, and he continued to speak against her between his admonitions, dipping his tongue into the shuddering twinge of her vulva, then long and languid at her clit, then speaking the sweet, ardent poem into her, his breath so shivering-soft, brushing down onto the wetness gathering strongly between her legs, her arousal and his saliva mingling irrevocably--Duncan brought his hand away from her mouth to grasp her under both thighs, hitching her knees over his shoulders so she was lifted up utterly, into his face, his eyes closing in the throes of his ardency, shrouding them in the dark eyeshadow still on him, reminding her of some holy fresco painted dark, a pious congregant in ecstatic worship, an achingly lovely visage of a damned soul finally redeemed. I love your eyelashes, your sweet eyelids, the incline of your cheeks, your mouth, fu-fuck, your beautiful fucking mouth, Duncan, how--how are you mine--

“You’re my angel, you’re fucking heaven to me--you’re a fucking goddess, even now you’re dipped in gold, the gold is you, it’s you, only you, exalted, beloved, entire, my only--” Duncan brought his fingers down, pressing them into the plug, pulling gently at it so she cried out at the smooth pressure of the bulb against the opening of her there as he flushed his mouth onto the bud of her again, “--So fucking beautiful I never want to look away from you, Kenzie--so fucking beautiful you fill all of my senses and time means nothing against you--nothing, uhhh, fuck, Kenzie--my fucking beautiful angel, god, I fucking love your body, I want to hold it forever--my Princess, sweetest golden honey, my moonlight, come for me, come for me, come against my lips, come into me--” and he was lifting his mouth away, bringing the hand that had toyed with the plug up, raising a flat palm to give her a little testing slap along the spread lips of her sex--Kenzie whined and bucked up into the air, her knees over his shoulders, his mouth hovering near her, smiling that smile beyond the beauty of her imagining, and she was whimpering again, and now she was begging, “Fuck, baby, please, do it again, I’m so close,” and Duncan’s face went slack with adoration, a little moan escaping him too to see her beg, to hear the sweetness of it, she knew--

Then he brought his palm down more harshly, the sound of it snapping into the wetness between her legs as he slapped her clit with a concentrated, sharp pressure, and Kenzie cried out, her eyes closing with an involuntary, ragged intake of breath--the coil of her orgasm was making her thighs begin to shake uncontrollably now, and she knew Duncan could see it in her eyes, see that she was about to let go for him, and he yanked her across the black sheet to the edge of the bed, so she was intently against him, as close as he could possibly clutch her to his open mouth, bringing both hands down to her face, one grasping at her neck again, against the cool gold of the necklace, oh god, Adelaide, if you could see where your necklace is now, Kenzie thought wildly, under the hot fingers of your grandson fucking the life out of me with his tongue, his other hand dipping around the space under her ear, his thumb probing into her mouth again, dipping harshly into the crook of it, forcing her lips open to him, wanting my mouth open to him, she knew, could feel his desire like an intense bluish flood, felt his thumb move down to her bottom lip and press it open, could feel the satisfaction in him when her moan needled up.

He leaned back from her cunt just long enough to spit a rivulet of saliva down onto her clit, then he pressed his tongue there again and she was dazzled with bursts of glittering anticipation, down from her mind into her body to her thighs, and Kenzie whimpered into his fingers, a whimper that became a wailing convulsion--Duncan did not ease his mouth, rather rebounded onto her as the plug tormented at her, pressing into her as her thighs shook, the shiver moving down her legs and down through the center of her abdomen, coursing out in tendrils of white-hot pleasure from his mouth’s avid attention.

Kenzie’s chin lifted back as she came now, her voice pressing out an sobbing cry that rattled every corner of her mind--she felt Duncan’s hands press more harshly into her mouth, harder into her neck, bringing dips of darkness into her vision, could feel the shuddering of her cunt under his mouth, the reverberations of the plug, and tears were coursing down her cheeks in an instant--she was crying in earnest now, but unlike the tears from earlier tonight, prompted by the terrible hate in Bill Shepherd’s agonized eyes and her own rebounded sadness toward the people who had surrounded Duncan for so much of his life, these tears were ecstatic, astounded at the fullness she felt inside this moment with him, utterly shaken by the feeling drifting out of him in surges that felt like a kiss on every inch of her.

Duncan heard her sobs now, she knew, because he’d lifted his eyes up to her from his pressing diligence between her legs--he lifted his mouth away as she came down from the edge, and his arms were lifting her limp, spent body into him now, sliding up onto the bed as he held her so his knees were against the black sheet, sliding her naked body up to the pillow to set her head gently against it, scattering rose petals as he did from her hair now coming undone, his mouth, wet with her sex, coming to kiss along her cheek and jaw. His arms were caressing at her, up and down her waist, along the dips of her breasts and against her neck, but with aching gentleness now, and Kenzie felt like she was on fire with his touch, could barely catch her breath with her tears. She grasped at his velvet jacket, her hands trailing at the gold collar, lifting up to his hair, to his cheek with its sweet stubble, and her tears were terribly hot and their salt fell between her lips, a relief inside the depth of her love for him in that moment.

“Shhhh, baby, shhhhh--” and Duncan was hovering over her, hands coming up to her hair and her cheek, soothing over her there, his elbows crooked on either side of her body, his much larger one enveloping her with his dark velvets and silky shirt, the heavy heat of him, the overwhelming musky-sandalwood-woods scent of him, his desire and his love, the scent of her sex lingering near her cheek now from his mouth as he kissed along her skin, making her sigh and shake, drying her tears. “I love you, Kenzie, baby, I love you--” and she could feel his thoughts, knew that he could sense her relief, the depth of the calmness settling into her now, sense how good (so fucking good baby fucking fuck I love you too Duncan I love you) he had made her feel, and she could feel him smiling into her cheek, feel his joy at her joy and her peace, and she wished this moment could extend, on and on, its perfection shaking her heart.

“It is perfect, isn’t it,” he whispered against her, and she could feel the tininess of his eyelashes as his eyes closed against her, and she felt close to her tears again, had to scrunch her face so they wouldn’t begin anew, and Duncan was saying “oh, Kenzie, oh, baby, if you want to cry, it’s okay--” and she was pressing her arms around the back of his hair, pulling him down against her so she fell into the space of his arms with his head beside her on the pillow, pressed her wet cheek against his heart, tucking her arms down between them against her mouth, bringing her legs together, shivering at the sensitivity of her sex, the deep moisture there from her release and his mouth. His cheek pressed into the crown of her hair, his fingers tangling in the roses that were drifting apart in the chestnut waves scattered behind her. Kenzie sighed again--a deep, shuddering sigh, a sigh that she knew was pushing away everything from the past two days, pushing it away from him too, insisting that now, beginning now, starting now, under this moon, like the all-knowing eye of some resplendent white goddess, and away from the other, prying eyes of everyone and everything, they’d worship each other in earnest, get lost--it’s time to get lost in each other, my dearest love. The days to come belong to us and us alone.

“Wait till you see it,” he was whispering into her hair. “Fuck, baby, I’m never going to want to leave, I know it already--even imagining being with you there feels like--like a beautiful dream. We’ll light a bonfire, we’ll bring the big blanket out under the summer sky, there’s this patch a quarter of a mile from the cabin, the trees part and the sky is totally spread out, and you can see everything at night--” Kenzie felt herself calming, let herself float inside the sound of his voice--the penthouse was blessedly quiet, any sounds from the world outside hushed, 30 stories down, far away. This is the only thing I want in the world right now, she knew, just to be here with you, the memory of your mouth still lingering on me, your hands in my hair, the jasmine-cedar scent of you, the beating of your heart against me.

“There are so many goldenrods in the summer, too, and last time there were all these wild orchids--Annette and Bill had this weekend retreat with all these Congress members, god, it was awful--but--one evening I escaped from everyone and went off in the woods alone and the light was falling so sweetly on them, everything was bathed in soft gold and deep blue, and I think I hoped for you that night, Kenzie, I think I longed for you, even though I didn’t know it was you I was thinking of, I didn’t know it was you I was missing so terribly, but it was, wasn’t it? It was you all along...it’s always been you. I know that now.”

Kenzie lifted her chin up from where it had been pressed against him, and Duncan brought his mouth down onto her, and their kiss was dream-soft and so earnest from him it almost pained her, his mind aching against her--she could feel the slight weight of his cock on her leg through where the pants still constricted him, knowing he was hovering around his arousal again, but also feeling the depth of his tiredness, the sincerity of his emotion inside the memory of his loneliness. He leaned away, the blue of his eyes so bright they didn’t seem real, then he pushed himself up, hand drifting down to her hip, looking down at her, his elbow crooked so his face hovered over her.

“I’m starving, baby,” Kenzie murmured up to him, sleepiness tinging her voice, her hands drifting at his velvet arms. The pillow was so soft under her head, his fingers so soothing on her skin--her eyes closed for a moment as Kenzie surrendered to the wave of tiredness that washed over her. Your touch is home. It’s the highest of all pleasures, the most soothing thing I’ve ever felt. Your touch.

“Okay, baby, hang on--don’t fall asleep yet,” and she felt Duncan kiss her cheek, his lips drifting down to press more along her skin, two kisses, three, four--then he lifted away from her and she opened her eyes, turning to watch his velvet back retreat, his hand drifting through the back of his hair--he glanced back at her, eyes adoring, and she smiled, bringing her hands down to drift between her legs, I can still feel your mouth there, and he grinned shyly (still shy of me, I can’t believe it), disappearing through the doorway.

A moment later she heard him call to her from the kitchen, his voice amused and curious. “Baby, what’s in all these boxes?” She could hear the small sounds of him moving around there, but not their precision--she waited for a moment, still floating inside her post-orgasm, not answering. Duncan reappeared after a few more beats, having removed his shoes and blazer now, a black bowl in one hand and a Waterford glass in the other. He slid onto the bed again, holding the glass down to her. Kenzie propped herself up against the headboard, clutching it in two hands and drinking greedily. The water was wonderfully cold and clear, and it brushed some of the sleepiness from her mind. She sat up more, feeling the plug pressing into her as her ass brushed along the sheets; she shivered out a little moan, and could see the desire flit across Duncan’s gaze again. She smiled at him and leaned over to set the glass on his nightstand; he passed her the bowl now, hand dipping down to her thigh. It had another bunch of the crimson grapes they’d been eating earlier (The Youth of Bacchus, Kenzie thought, fighting the urge to run to the study to look at it right now, thrilled with knowledge that she could if she wanted to, for it hung there), a handful of raw almonds, and a long bar of very dark chocolate in six segments that looked almost black in the low bedroom light.

“Ooo, baby,” and she was squealing with delight at the chocolate, reaching for it with insistent fingers, crossing her legs under her against the sheet. She broke a piece off and lifted it up to his mouth--Duncan’s teeth snatched it out of her fingers and Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh--being with you. She leaned up to kiss him, the sweet, dark taste of the chocolate mingling in their mouths. Being with you is heaven.

“What’s in all those boxes?” Duncan asked again, reaching for some of the grapes, popping them in his mouth, then reaching up to his collar and beginning to unbutton it. He pulled the hem of the shirt out of his belt, easing it off his arms, then worked at the buckle as his eyes drifted over her nakedness--Kenzie felt shy under his gaze, wondering again if that feeling would ever fade. Caught in the eyes of this beautiful boy--truly beautiful, a face that a sculptor would die to render, Michael the Archangel, David trapped in stone, fairest Adonis. And he kneels to me. Kneels and worships ME.

“Stuff I ordered for our trip,” she replied, breaking off more chocolate, twining golden strands of hair around her finger, recalling. “Ghost stories--” she wiggled her fingers at him and he laughed, “--and some quilts and blankets for our bed--I want it to be extra cozy--and for stargazing, a fireside cooking kit--we can make tinfoil dinners, those are so fun--and, well, a bunch of clothes--” and she grinned at him, loving the way his face immediately went soft with the prospect, enthralled with the mere mention of such a thing. Baby, she thought, you get to watch me get dressed every day now, every fucking day, you care stare as much as you want.

“--including these tiny little cutoff shorts, and a little black bikini,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper as she spoke, letting her mouth hang open at the end, her eyes teasing him.

“Fuck,” Duncan leaned in to kiss her, and as he did he bit gently at her bottom lip, sucking for a moment and then releasing her--and then he was dropping his belt on the floor to the side of the bed, bringing his legs over it to ease the pants off, then his socks, then his briefs, discarding them all in a heap, freeing his partially-hard cock. He looked over at her, reached for the chocolate in her hand, fingers drifting down her skin, then breaking another piece off and dipping it into his mouth (your lips, baby). Then he rose with a teasing glance of his own to her, and went into the bathroom--Kenzie admired his ass as he did, blushing a little into her chocolate. Round and smooth. I wanna bite it. She heard the water running, and set the remainder of the chocolate in the bowl, sliding off the bed, wincing a little at the soreness of the plug still inside her.

Kenzie stepped into the bathroom; Duncan was washing his face, and she glanced down, watching the dark makeup swirl down the drain. The Gala really is finally over. I’m so relieved, honestly. Now it feels like I can breathe again. Like we can breathe. This revelation from Annette may have actually been a blessing in disguise. Time to run away with you for awhile, my love. Duncan was patting his face dry with a towel, then he turned to her as she came up beside him, leaning on the sink. She knew he could hear her. Can you take my plug out now, please, Prince?

“I’ll take it out now. Lean down a little, baby.”

Kenzie nodded, and leaned over the basin, moving her feet apart so her thighs were spread slightly. Duncan unscrewed the top of the coconut oil on the counter and dipped his fingers into it--then he stepped behind her and eased the fingers around the jewel at her backside. Kenzie breathed in, slowly.

“Press out, baby.” Kenzie did as he said, and winced a little again, but only a little--the oil had soothed the sting of the chafing there, and the plug popped out of her a moment later. Duncan brought it over the sink and turned the hot water on over it again--Kenzie watched him rinse it with soapy, gentle hands as she pulled the pack of wet wipes from one of the drawers under the sink, easing one of them along the dip between her ass. It came away with a little blood again, but just a little--it’s worth it, honestly, because fuck, you fucked me so fucking good, baby, fucked me hard and ate me out so fucking good, fuck. He glanced over at her as he turned the faucet off, having finished washing her plug--she saw the glint in his eyes, the indication that he’d heard her thoughts, the knowledge of her lust. Duncan set the plug on the counter, and then he pulled her achingly against him, pressing his nakedness into her, lifting her up into an open-mouthed kiss. The roses were still falling from her hair around their feet--Duncan set her back down to earth and turned her gently, and then his beautiful fingers began to work the roses out of her hair, setting them gently one by one on the bathroom counter. Kenzie glanced over to the mirror to watch him as she reached for her toothbrush; my Prince, your gentleness amazes me still. She knew she would remember this moment, crystallized, in the future. Your hands in my hair, the roses falling through your fingers, the blue of your eyes, the drift of your thoughts to me, so soft, so devoted.

Kenzie, he was thinking, I’ll put flowers in your hair in the forest, scatter flowers on our bed, flowers in your arms, we’ll lay in them and forget the world, they’ll weave flowers in your hair on our wedding day, I know it already as if I can see through a window, I can see the halo of your head and a crown of dark roses there, my Persephone, a dream of the future yet I know it’s real, how I long to ask you, to speak it into existence…

Duncan untwined the last of the rosebuds and Kenzie turned to him, lifting her chin to his face, but not kissing him, not quite--she hovered her lips achingly near to his, and heard the quiet, longing sound that drifted out of him against her, his face now free of the dark makeup he’d worn all night, and still so stunningly, completely beautiful, and yet you long for me, she thought, her skin wildly sensitive under his touch, you worship me, little old Mackenzie Stone.

“You aren’t little, Kenzie. I mean...you are little. I love how little you are, I love how close I can hold you--” and here his hands drifted down to Kenzie’s ass, cupping her there, pressing her sensitive sex up into him, his mouth hovering at her chin, “but baby, you aren’t little. You’re so bright--like the sun. Your vastness...it fucking staggers me. It’s like you have a universe inside you, and it’s beautiful beyond all description.You’re so divine--so strong, so brave, so kindhearted and so bright, like golden starlight--”

“Fuck, Duncan, the way you talk to me--”

“Just my entreating prayers to a goddess,” he whispered, lips finally falling under her ear. “Just my endless hope for her blessing.”

“Come to bed with me, hold me, sleep with me, fair Oberon, and in the morning, let’s fuck off into the forest and never come back,” and Kenzie was smiling against the overwhelmingly sweet sensation of his lips, and she felt him smile too and then laugh against her, a laugh that was so desperately joyful that she felt lost inside it for a moment, as though he were Eros and the sound of his laughter was the sound of desire itself. Purest joy. My love, that I can bring you this, that you have given yourself to me this way--it moves my soul utterly, it is the highest of all things, to be loved, to love you. She laughed too, a heartfelt laugh that threatened to dissolve into tears in her throat, and Duncan was kissing her mouth with soft, sweet pecking kisses, and she knew he felt the mingling fall of her emotion, the deluge in her. His hands came around her neck, unclasping Adelaide’s golden necklace, setting it on the sink beside her roses, and Kenzie was moved by the sight, by its shivering, quiet beauty--one is the city, the other the forest, and tomorrow we’ll retreat into nature and find its secrets, she thought. She shivered, and then Duncan was pulling her to the bed, shutting the lights off as he did, easing her down against into the sheets with his (clouded sky) eyes full of tenderness, setting the bowl with the chocolate and grapes aside (later my love, all things later, now, only you, only me, only sleep and our dreams of those other places, only the moon and us) and she was gathered inside his arms, her cheek at his heart again, his sex pressed into her belly, their legs irrevocably twined.

“Kenzie,” he murmured, and she was moved to be in the sudden darkness, in the feeling of him, “Will you sing to me? I love your voice so much. Just a little, baby, please?”

Kenzie sighed against him. “Oh, baby. Of course I will.” She heard the thought he didn’t say aloud, the shyness in it: a lullaby. My sweet Duncan. My beloved. I will soothe you as you know only I can. She was quiet for a moment, in the stillness, in the shadows, in his arms. Then she knew what she wanted to sing to him; knew it as certainly as her love for him.

“Do you always trust your first initial feeling, special knowledge...holds true…bears believing…” And Kenzie felt him bury his face against the softness of her hair, his deep sigh of contentment, his love bursting into her, “I turned around, and the water...was closing...all around, like a glove, like the love, that had finally, finally found me...and I knew...in the crystalline knowledge of you…”

And then they were dreaming, untethered from earth, together; under the face of another moon, this one much larger than the one they’d left, and lit with a glow that was utterly not of their world.

--------

The light was sweet and low as Kenzie drifted up, back to reality. It’s very early, she knew. She let her eyes linger closed for a moment, trying to recall the dream she’d surfaced from this time; it certainly wasn’t a bad dream, not like our nightmares, she knew. In this one she’d been wearing a very long black velvet gown with a very tight bodice that had exposed her throat to the dip of her breasts--it had pilled around her in huge folds, had drifted behind her as she walked--she remembered with a rush that the Mirror was in the dream, its embellished gold frame distinct, its vastness obvious. I saw myself in it, and I looked beautiful, but I looked--I looked like myself but not like myself. I wore dark jewels on my throat, and...there was this power in my eyes, I could see it reflected in the Mirror. Duncan was with me, but he was wearing something...something from another time period. He wore...breeches, I think that’s what they’re called, and long boots. His hair was longer--it fell to his shoulders in beautiful waves, but it was the same color it is now, like russet autumn leaves, not like the terrible, dark man I dreamt with his face, and not like that other Duncan, the one who had nebulas for eyes, with wings I didn’t understand the shape of. He was kissing my neck--he was wearing a flowing white shirt and he was taking it off, we were in a room with a huge four-poster bed, an opulent room, like we were in Versailles or something, the fireplace was lit and the light was low and we were full of nervous excitement, full of desire…

Here her recollection of the dream ended and she opened her eyes, sighing a little. The Mirror. The Mirror was there. Our Mirror. My Mirror...the one I know belongs to me somehow. It had something to do with that...with me knowing that. Duncan stirred a little against her--his arms had moved in sleep and one of them, she realized, was clutched at the dip of her ass--the other was against her hand between their pillows, his pinky and ring finger hooked around hers, their Cartier bracelets hovering near each other--the diamonds of Kenzie’s caught the early light, glinting into her sleep-touched eyes. Duncan’s stubbled jaw turned up in his sleep, his mouth opening a little, then closing, the small movement of his throat sending a shiver up her bare spine. My beautiful baby. His hand at her ass moved up to the small of her back--drew her in closer in his sleep, her hip bone pressing against his, his hardness (always), sending a little gasp of sensation out from her as it lifted into the space between her legs.

Kenzie hesitated for a moment, longing for his eyes to open, longing for his mouth to fall on hers, longing for the feeling of him probing into her mind--I feel lonely without him there now, I can’t help it--longing for the feeling of his beautifully thick, hard cock to be inside her, but she knew they had a long drive today--the sooner they left the penthouse and got on the road, the sooner they could be in the wonderful solitude of the woods, be at the lake. Alone together. Not like our day at the beach--which was so wonderful, but so brief--really alone together, for days, and free to explore the secrets of each other and the joy of nature. Fuck, I can’t wait.

It had been almost a year since the last time Kenzie was in the woods--she and Claire had gone with some of her old Georgetown friends to a nearby campgrounds and stayed for two nights during the muggiest stretch of August. It had been terribly hot, but the evenings had been so tranquil and lovely and the sunsets so beautiful, and she’d been so happy to be with Claire, and the memory was a good one--they’d shared a tent and eaten burnt hot dogs and canned baked beans and s’mores, got eaten alive by mosquitoes, and laughed with each other a lot, over everything, as they always did. My Clairebear. I wonder how your date with Harris went, and Kenzie smiled, thoughts drifting from Claire back to Duncan, her gaze roving over the man (almost more than a man sometimes, to me, like an angel, his soul having opened to me this way) she loved more than she ever thought possible--more than she would have thought herself, or anyone, capable of. She pushed back the feeling of tears, which always seemed to be hovering near now, and eased herself out of his embrace. Duncan stirred again, dipping his head down, his hand coming under his cheek--and he sighed in his sleep, then descended back into silent, slow breaths. Just sleep a little longer, my loveliest love, she sent out to him, her thoughts lined in gold. Sleep until your tiredness melts away--then we’ll leave.

Kenzie eased off the bed, glancing at the roses she’d tied above it, her eyes sliding to the Mirror (you were in my dream, beautiful thing--maybe our dream, if he dreamed too), examining her nakedness, moving to the bathroom. She gazed affectionately at her Golden Pothos on the back of the toilet as she sat to pee, wincing as she wiped herself--my poor asshole, she thought with an inner laugh, sorry sweetie, you’re gonna need to suck it up and get used to a big cock inside you. She snorted, giggling at her own thoughts, reaching for her hairbrush, coaxing the tangles out of her hair as she looked at the necklace and roses scattered on the sink affectionately. Kenzie set the brush down, grasping the necklace and moving to the closet, eyes watching Duncan in his quiet repose, hair tossed over his forehead; Eros sleeps. It was barely past 7, but she felt wide awake now, the stresses of the Gala--the chaotic energy of the press and photographers towards them, Marissa Montague’s tantrum, Bill Shepherd hissing into her face, his skin gray, his breath sour with sickness, the overwhelming sadness that had driven her to run blindly through a back hallway until she had reached that room that she knew had once belonged to Duncan--seeming far away already. She neatly set the necklace along the stretch of dark wood shelf where she now kept her jewelry in the huge closet--she admired it for a moment, the sheen of its gold and diamonds, fingers drifting over it, the perfect roundness of the ruby--then Kenzie reached for the Tiffany moon and clasped it around her neck. The first thing he ever brought me as a gift--like he was bringing me an offering on an altar. And my offering to him was the meal that I made for us--and he was so happy to receive it. I knew he was. I know he’s happy, truly happy, to receive whatever I give him. Because he loves me. Fuck, he truly does.

Kenzie turned, noticing Duncan had hung her golden gown from last night on a long wood hanger in the corner, so it faced the doorway. Its train drifted in a gathered pile on the floor, and Kenzie was struck by its loveliness again--a dress for a goddess. I wonder how all those pictures turned out, she wondered. I felt so lost in that happiness with him in those moments, it’s like for a little while I lost track of everything that was going on around us. But no. I’m not going to look. In fact, I’d like to not look at my phone at all while we’re away. I’ll bring it with me, but I think I’m going to just turn it off. Kenzie went out through the living room, still naked but for the moon necklace and the Cartier bracelet (which I’ll never take off, only he can take it off me) now; the penthouse was cool and she liked the chilliness on her skin, knowing it would be another hot June day. She moved to the obsidian island--it was clean of all residue of the food that had been spread there the evening before by Erik, Hannah and Georgio, the hands of the still-unseen-to-her housekeepers having whisked it away. I need to meet them and thank them for all the work they do to clean this penthouse, Kenzie thought, feeling guilty. They clean this space so beautifully. They deserve my thanks at the very least. I know Duncan is used to living this way, but I’m not--I’m used to cleaning up after myself. This world is still so strange to me.

She slid her golden clutch from last night off the island, snapping it open, glancing for a moment at her phone--a text from Mom, confirming Samuel had dropped her off safely, wishing them a wonderful time at the cabin, and an alert for an email from Candice, who’d confirmed Kenzie’s requests for PTO while they were away. Kenzie felt strange again, drifting in the knowledge that she’d never really need to worry about money again--god, since when? She wondered. She remembered living on ramen and oranges while she was at Georgetown, loathe to ask Momby for money; thought affectionately, nostalgically, of her tiny apartment, now empty of her things, empty of her life, which was here now, with Duncan. And now I’m wearing diamonds, and ordering hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothes with my boyfriend’s card like it’s nothing. She tucked her left foot behind her right heel, absently toeing a fourth position, the old habit of her ballet classes hovering in her subconscious as she wallowed in the feeling. Then, she remembered the longing look of happiness in his eyes when she had mentioned it last night--he loves to buy me things, he loves my clothes. He gave me that card because he loves to give me things. He loves me. He loves me so much. How does he love me so much. I’m the luckiest girl in the world. I’m going to just be happy--just be happy and enjoy this right now.

Kenzie shut her phone off, then knelt down to where the boxes were piled, sifting through them until she found the ones with Free People shipping labels. Glee fell down through her as she opened them--every day since they met, the way Duncan would stare at her getting dressed sent wild, nervous, anticipatory energy through her body. She thought of him looking at her in these lovely things, these lovely pieces of clothing she’d so carefully chosen to make herself feel beautiful, to make herself feel like the best version of herself she could be, the happiest, the kindest, the most open--the self she knew she had in her, had sometimes been before she met him and was still, the self she would always be, but now even greater than before. If anything, he makes me more myself, she knew. He makes me braver, fills my heart with courage. With him I feel like I can do anything. I feel like I can be the person I’ve always known I could be, deep down. Now, I can be her, that best self, because he’s here, and I was waiting for him. I was waiting for my partner, the person I could share everything with--all of me. I was waiting for my love, for the love that would kindle my heart to the highest emotions, and bring me to life. When Duncan said he longed for me that evening in the woods when he was alone, I knew he meant it. And now I know I longed for him too--in the dark of my quiet bed alone at night, those nights after Tyler and I broke up and I was so fucking lonely sometimes I’d cry myself to sleep in the shadows, it was Duncan I ached for, and now I know that. It was him, and now I feel like sometimes I almost perceived the shape of him inside that loneliness, saw the outline of his face, his hair, his hands. Knew that he was out there somewhere, in the world, looking for me too. And I found him, oh, Goddess. I found him. Thank you, Fates. Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. You weaved us together, tied us with a golden string that cannot be broken. You brought us together again. The wheel turned for us. I’m grateful.

Kenzie pulled a pair of classic black Vans with white laces from one of the boxes, alongside the aforementioned tiny cut off shorts and little black bikini--she also pulled out a golden-yellow lacy cropped top with long blouse sleeves and a v-neck that plunged low, a tie at the front. Kenzie gathered her outfit choices and moved to the bathroom again, slipping into the shower and turning the knob--she used a tie she’d left on the toiletry rack at some point to hold her tawny hair back, and lathered Duncan’s jasmine soap over her body, over the sensitivity between her ass cheeks, along the lips of her cunt, thinking of his mouth there. The way you eat me out, fuck, baby, it’s like--fucking nirvana. I feel your worship in every bit of my body when you do that. Then Kenzie stepped out of the shower, letting her hair fall down again, slipping into the little bikini, which hugged her small breasts flatteringly, then wrapped the gold-sunflower crop top around her body, the cut-offs over her thighs. She glanced at herself in the bathroom’s oval mirror, the wide glow of her eyes, the fall of her hair, brushed to soft waves, the moon at her neck, the incline of her thighs below the little shorts and the dip of her bare waist between--go wake your baby up with your cute ass, girl.

Kenzie went to the bed softly, smiling against her fist--Duncan hadn’t moved from the same position, his head dipping down into his hand on the pillow, his expression achingly angelic. She slid down to him, lifting her leg around him so she was straddling him across his torso, pushing him gently so he was on his back--Duncan stirred, moaning a little, reaching for her, and then his hands fell on the softness of her blouse then to the smoothness of her stomach, the dip of her ass in the little shorts, and his eyes drifted open, their depth instantly intrigued.

“Good morning, Prince Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, shaking her hair around her shoulders, fingers coming up to brush along the Tiffany moon, so he would see she was wearing it. “Are you ready to fuck off into the woods with your baby?”

“Mmmh, Kenzie, angel--” Duncan was blinking the sleep away from his eyes now, gripping her tighter, sliding himself up so he was against the headboard, pulling her against his naked lap, his hard cock coming up between them, pressing inside her spread thighs, against the crotch of the denim cut offs, his lips falling to the space beside her mouth and drifting back to her ear. Kenzie couldn’t stop the tiny moan that fell out of her at the insistence of his mouth and his arms, suddenly--god, you smell so good, baby, you smell like desire.

“Unng, you look so fucking cute,” he was murmuring against her, lifting away from his hot kisses on her skin, his (finally open, oh fuck, goddess, open and full of so much need like a blue sky over an ocean of impossible depth) eyes roving over her, the shape of her in the crop top and the tiny shorts, the moon at her throat, the fall of her hair. “You’re my Princess, Kenzie, aren’t you? Fuck, kiss me, Princess--” Kenzie grinned at him and gripped his stubbled jaw, nipping hot kisses along his bottom lip, one of his hands burying itself inside her hair at the back of her skull, holding her steady to him, the other drifting into the back of her shorts against her ass, his Cartier bracelet cool on her skin--his hands felt the smooth fabric of her bikini bottoms and he let out another low moan into her mouth.

“I’m wearing my new little black bikini under this,” Kenzie smiled into him.

“Mmh, Kenzie, fuck, baby--babylove--” Kenzie could feel the straining in his mind, drifting against her, the thought he was hesitating to speak out loud. I need your mouth on my cock, baby, my poor cock is so fucking hard for you, hard like last night, it hurts, it needs you, I fucking need you--

“You want me to suck your big cock, huh, Prince Duncan?” Kenzie moved her hips as she spoke into his mouth, lifted herself so she ground against him, the denim shifting against his length. Duncan let out a pitiful moan, his eyes wincing closed in an achingly lovely supplication to her.

“Please,” he whispered into her “Please, Princess Kenzie. I’ll do anything. I--I’ll--”

“Shhhhh, shhhh, baby,” and Kenzie brought her hand up to her mouth between them, willing spit from the back of her throat for a moment, then licking down the inside of her fingers wetly, shushing his begging, pressing her lips against the bridge of his nose, leaning away, smiling, teasing. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering just beside his hardness, not letting herself touch him, a line of spit falling down from her fingers onto the head of his erection, and he let out another piteous little moan, his fingers drifting at her thighs, staring into her. Then, Duncan rolled his hips into her, and his stiff, thick cock fell against her hand and she closed her fingers around it with terrible gentleness, and he was crying piteously against her, “uhh, Kenzie, Kenzie angel, fucking please--”

Kenzie gripped him tighter, eased her little fingers up to the head of his cock, her index finger drifting over the sensitive hole at the tip, and she felt the shiver fall through him, watched the ecstatic drift of his eyes. I’m never gonna get over how fucking gorgeous you are, Duncan Shepherd, and she jerked her hand along his length again, squeezing it a little at the base, palm brushing over his balls with a weighted insistence.

“This big cock belongs to me, doesn’t it, baby?” Kenzie pressed her mouth against the stubble on his jaw as she jerked harshly at his thick length, letting her whispers drift against him, letting her eyelashes flutter at his cheek, letting her hair fall against his nose where she knew it would fill his senses. The sounds he was making--keening, needy cries, sighing moans of abject craving for her--were kindling low heat in her belly, between her spread thighs, the lips of her cunt in the tiny bikini pressing harshly into the denim, rubbing into her clit, stoking her arousal. Gonna make you come, rich boy. Gonna make you come hard for me. You’re mine, aren’t you? You’re my beautiful baby, aren’t you, Dunny? Your come is for me, your beauty all for me, your moans for me, your big hard cock is for me--

“Yes, fuck, yes, fucking yes, Kenzie, I’m yours, my cock is yours, every part of me is yours, uhmm, please, fucking please, fuck--you’re so lovely, I can’t stand it, you smell so fucking lovely, uhh, unnnh--”

Kenzie spread her legs out further, easing herself backwards off Duncan’s lap as she continued to flit her hand up and down his hard cock--he let go of her reluctantly, his face raw with yearning, and she slid down onto her knees between his legs stretched out on the bed, bringing them together tightly so the denim rode up into the lips of her cunt, the pressure of the soft bikini fabric against her clit, her head dipped down in front of him. She willed more spit from the back of her throat and let it drip in a long slaver from her lips onto the head of his cock, her fingers dipping up to the head of him again to ease it insistently down. She could see his thighs shuddering, his hands reaching into her hair again, tangling there, pulling, burying themselves as if he never wanted to let go again. Then, finally, Kenzie dipped her mouth onto him, swirling her tongue around the hole at the tip of his cock, and her eyes came up to watch his head tilt back, watch his aching loveliness inside her ministrations. She dipped further down, remembering to open her throat to him, taking him entirely into her as she had when they went to the beach house--she didn’t gag this time, but her eyes immediately began to water, and she tried to breathe in but realized he blocked her airway entirely this way. Drool dripped down from her stretched lips, pooling into his balls, and Duncan’s hands were pressing her head down onto him, his cries lifting--his hips bucked so Kenzie’s lips fell to the shaft of him, and tears drifted down her cheeks. Kenzie thought of the way he’d fucked her ass last night, his thickness filling her to the point where her mind seemed to untether, and she imagined him inside her ass now, wishing he could fill both ends of her at once.

“Fuck, me too, baby, me too, fucking fuck Kenzie, baby, you feel so amazing, I love your little throat so much--” and his hand drifted down to grip her neck. “I love holding you in this spot, love choking you into white-gold thoughts--” and Kenzie knew he meant the way her mind looked to him when he pressed his fingers there, the color of her thoughts under the ecstasy of his hands. His eyes seemed to go darker as she glanced into them, and she pressed an insistent hand into his thigh, easing herself back--Duncan let go of her throat and she lifted up, gasping air through her nose as his length slid out of her throat, the head of him still resting against her tongue. She nodded into him now, sucking greedily at him, her fingers coming down to grip along the bottom of his balls. Come in my mouth, Prince. Give me your sweet come. I know how much you want me, I can feel every fiber of it. Your thick cock is mine, my little mouth is yours. Come for me, let me swallow all your desire into me.

Duncan bit down into his lip as Kenzie watched, and for a moment it seemed as though he was on the edge of tears, his face crumpling into a wince that shook her with its loveliness, and then she felt the warm thickness of his come flooding her mouth, felt the intensity of his shuddering into the cavity of her mouth, coating her tongue, splashing down her throat. It was sweet this time--fruits and chocolate, she thought. Beloved Dionysus. Dunny, baby, oh, baby. She let her mouth dip down one more time, let some of his come slide down the side of his shaft before lowering herself to suck it clean--and then Duncan was pulling her up, pulling her head away from his cock insistently, hungrily claiming her lips with his open mouth, sucking at them, tasting, nibbling at her. The sun was finally rising in earnest now--one of its beams scattered along the bed as they tasted at each other, and Kenzie’s heart was hammering rapidly, the sweet taste of his come still on her tongue, the woodsy-musk of his scent filling her head.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered into her, and they were both smiling--smiling with earnest contentment, Kenzie sending drifts of her golden affection against him, feeling the cool blue of him swirl back into her. Her heart felt suddenly too full, the tears not yet dried on her cheeks; Duncan was kissing her again, gathering her against him in his lap again, whispering “I love you, good morning, I love you angel--” until she couldn’t help but laugh, giggling against him as his breath tickled on her neck, dipping her arms around his neck. To be with you, just to be with you, my heart’s going to just burst, I never knew anything could be so perfect, so right.

“I wanna go swim in the lake and eat blackberries in the shade, baby,” she said into his ear. “Let’s go fuck under the trees, in the flowers. I’m gonna make some coffee.” She tried to lift away from him but Duncan grasped her at the dip under her shoulder blades, mouth clashing into her, still hungry. “Dunny, I mean it, you need to get ready, you’re being fucking naughty--” “Yes, yes I am--” and he was biting along her neck, moving his hand down to press into the dip of her ass, a reminder of yesterday, and Kenzie yelped against him, struggling, jabbing her fingers into his torso and making him twist in tickling surprise as she tumbled out of his lap, laughing again.

“You did it to yourself! You tempted the tickler!” she called back as she rolled off the bed, running away from him, and Kenzie could hear his frustrated laugh as she escaped on bare feet. She went to the cupboard and brought down two of the glass mugs, starting the Keurig under one, then going to the fridge and pulling out a mango and a grapefruit, using one of Duncan’s bamboo cutting boards and kanso knives to slice them open, getting down two plates and putting half on each, getting two of Adelaide’s little silver spoons for the grapefruit, cutting the mango halves into checkered squares, discarding the hard center. Kenzie blew on the coffee, setting the other mug under the Keurig for Duncan, taking a careful sip. Perfect. Today will be perfect because I will it. I’m going to push my love out of me and let it fall over everything. I’m going to manifest my love into the world and mold my surroundings into loveliness.

She set her mug down on the island, lifting the sweetness of the mango to her lips, relishing its succulent taste--then she went to the cupboard and brought down a Waterford glass, dipping it under the faucet and pouring a splash into each of her succulents along the window, making a mental note to ask Anchaly to have the housekeepers check on them in a few days. Kenzie looked out the kitchen’s sunny, wide window to the clusters of trees and streets and the outline of the historic Colonial houses of Georgetown stretching far away and far below, sunlight spilling into the long steel sink, the sky almost impossibly blue with only the tiniest hint of cloud wisps scattered in it. I think when we come back, I’ll be different somehow. I have this feeling like--like I’ll know something important about myself that I didn’t know before.

Kenzie looked down into her hands at the mango--then she turned with a strange feeling, setting the mango down on the counter, and glanced back at the grapefruit half she’d left on her plate on the island. She hesitated, dipping a hand over the wave of her hair and tucking it behind her ear--then she sent the gold tendrils of her--of my spirit, my will, she knew--out to it. Come here. Into my hand.

Kenzie blinked, once, twice; then she felt a surge, as though she’d sent out a hook into the air, and then there was a heavy feeling, of the hook burying itself into the soft flesh of the grapefruit skin--and then she was blinking down in her hands as the dimpled weight of the fruit’s cool surface pressed there. Somehow. Impossibly. I made it move into my hand. And I KNEW I could do that. I knew that somehow. It’s impossible--but no less impossible than anything else that’s been happening to us lately. Hearing each other’s thoughts. Duncan finding me just by feeling for me. Duncan moving himself across a room with his mind. Me pressing my gold into people, healing them, pushing Marissa away with my mind. No less impossible. And yet.

Kenzie looked up from the fruit clutched in her palms--Duncan was coming into the kitchen, moving around the island to press a soft kiss against her hair, reaching for his coffee. He was wearing a slim-fit, short sleeve button-down in very dark navy, the top button undone, giving him a much more relaxed look than his usual fully-buttoned seriousness, and slim-cut, tight-fitting jersey shorts that came only to his upper thigh with a tying waist in washed, neutral black. His hair was now damp and towel-mussed from the shower, but to an unaccustomed eye (my eye is becoming accustomed, Kenzie couldn’t help but note with vague satisfaction), it seemed deliberately styled. He looks, Kenzie thought, so fucking perfect. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d be so fucking annoyed with him for looking so fucking good so early in the morning.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmured to her softly, taking a sip, then looked at her with some concern as he noticed her eyes, the dumbfounded expression on her face. “What? What is it?”

“I--Duncan. I just moved this grapefruit--” she held the half up to him, its pink interior dipping in her palm, “from the island, into my hand. From across the room.”

“Huh.” Duncan looked down at it, frowning, then moved to the island, brushing her arm a little with his fingers as he stepped away from her, the Cartier bracelet sliding down his wrist. He looked down at the plate she’d made for him, then back up at her, setting his coffee cup down.

“Try to move the other one, baby.”

Kenzie put the half of the grapefruit in her hand down on the counter beside her mango, then stared, concentrating, at the half on Duncan’s plate. Come to me. Into my hand. She dipped her palm down, fingers crooked--then sent the tendrils of gold out of her again, as she knew she could. There was a pause, then the hooking sensation again; and then Duncan was whispering “oh, fuck,” as Kenzie blinked down at her hand again in surprise. The dimpled weight of the grapefruit was now pressing there. She’d done it again.

“What the fuck,” she said, staring up at him. “How the fuck did I do that?”

“Fuck, Kenz, I don’t know, but for a second it sort of wobbled, then it zipped through the air into your hand like a shot. It was so quick. You blinked and you missed it. But it did.”

Kenzie felt dizzy for a moment, and she suddenly dropped the grapefruit half to the floor--Duncan hurried over to her, reaching out to grip her under her arms. “Kenzie, baby, are you okay? Do you feel dizzy again, like you did last night--after you sent Marissa went away?”

“A little,” she whispered, and Duncan was pressing her back against the counter, reaching behind her for a glass (this one had sunflowers on it, from the set the peony glass belonged to) and filling it from the filtered tap, holding it up to her. Kenzie clutched it with a hand she noticed was now shaking, taking a long drink as Duncan leaned down to pick up the grapefruit.

“You can do extraordinary things, Kenzie,” he murmured to her softly. His eyes were so blue--she felt dizzy again just looking up at him, dizzy with how lovely he was in the sunlight. “I have this feeling, baby. This feeling like--like when we come back--”

“Yes,” she was whispering against him, his hands coming around to her elbows, thumbs caressing the sleeves of her golden-yellow shirt. “We’ll be different. We’ll know things about each other--we’ll know.”

They both fell silent--it was all Kenzie could do to look into his face, so radiant with beauty, so full of love for her, tinged with hope and vague apprehension. The worries from the last few days were fading from his mind, she could feel it; pushed away by the more pressing knowledge that was the thing approaching them swiftly on the horizon, whatever it is. It has to do with me being able to move things. It has to do with us hearing each other’s thoughts, baby. It has to do with you finding me last night. Whatever we find out, it’s going to explain this. It’s going to show us what all of this means.

Duncan was nodding, his blue eyes burning like flame on her. “I’m not afraid, Kenzie. Not with you by my side.”

Kenzie felt her lip trembling. No, baby. I’m not afraid either. Just moved beyond words inside the vastness of everything I can feel is on its way. Thank the goddess--I have you. Inside your love, I fear nothing.

----------

An hour later, they were almost ready to leave for the cabin. Kenzie had begun to feel effervescently happy as they packed the picnic basket and two sleek white Yeti coolers with a vast array of fresh fruits (grapes, pears, honeycrisp apples, a huge pineapple, more mangos and grapefruits, little clementines, raspberries, blackberries and cherries) and vegetables (tomatoes, spring lettuce, avocados, celery sticks, mini sweet peppers, baby carrots, little cucumbers), sandwich fixings (turkey, cold chicken, tempeh, sliced swiss and provolone), a carton of organic eggs and a butcher’s wrap of turkey bacon, several hunks of artisan cheese (gouda, brie, havarti), jars of olives, tiny gherkin pickles, round rice and wheat crackers, sprouted bread, cream cheese, hummus, tortilla chips, pico de gallo, and an assortment of nuts and trail mix, granola bars, greek yogurt, almond milk, orange juice, lots of coffee k-cups and a bag of ground espresso beans; Duncan assured her there was a Keurig and an espresso machine at the cabin. Something tells me this cabin isn’t quite a cabin, Kenzie thought. The picnic basket had four bottles of red wine, the cooler had three each of rose and white, a bottle of Stoli, a bottle of bourbon, Pellegrinos, lime La Croix, organic ginger ale, and fresh limes and lemons. Duncan had also packed a half ounce of blue-strain weed and a gold-leaf weed pipe that Kenzie had demanded to admire for a moment before she’d give it back to him. Still discovering each other’s little secrets, she’d thought.

“There’s this little general store pretty close to the cabin, too, so we don’t need to pack enough for the entire time--we can go there during the day if we need anything,” he told her, setting the striped buckling blanket--the one they’d taken to the Cape Cod house--the lovely quilts, and the box that held the fireside cooking kit Kenzie had ordered beside the cooler and the picnic basket in front of the penthouse door. Kenzie had hauled her rolling red Kenneth Cole suitcase out of the side-closet in the walk-in where she’d placed it, after moving all her things to the penthouse--she’d had it since Georgetown, a gift from her Abadaba before she passed away, but it was holding up nicely. Inside it she carefully organized enough clothing for a week, almost all of it new (two cardigans: Duncan’s black Brooks Brothers’, and a new long gray one with large buttons and slits at the sides, a long button-down short-sleeved dress the color of sunflower petals, a short pink babydoll dress with long sleeves and roses prints along its hem, a tiny white cotton summer mini dress with a plunging neckline, a black flowing v-neck wrap dress with a buckle at the waist, a rust-colored, strapped mini dress with the sides cut-out, a pair of short-coveralls in light blue denim, a crop top with banded straps and white embroidery, a gray top with extra long sleeves, an ankle-length flowing linen dress with roses printed all over it), several pairs of sandals (her strappy beige, a new pair of black boot sandals) and her brown Timberland hiking boots (she’d only worn them once--on the trip with Claire last August). Kenzie tucked the velvet ribbon, her egg and plug, the rose choker, and Duncan’s cock ring into the suitcase as well, alongside both pairs of her Agent Provocateur lingerie, her little black kimono, her satin pyjamas, the oversized Led Zeppelin tee and lots of clean underwear. She only packed one bra--and I don’t plan on wearing it at all, she thought defiantly. Wild and free with my lover in the woods, and I can’t fucking wait. Fuck bras.

As she packed Duncan did the same alongside her--his suitcase was Prada (and decidedly more expensive than my banged-up one from Bed, Bath and Beyond, Kenzie thought), made of some kind of tech fabric with leather trim, and black, of course. She stole glances at him, eyes lovingly falling down his form, his eyes meeting hers every now and then when they caught each other staring--Kenzie watched the concentrated squint of his face, his hand drifting thoughtfully to his bottom lip, the fitted perfection of his clothing, the coiled strength in his arms, the fine hair on his legs to his large feet, now in black ankle socks, the soft dip of his hair on his forehead as he leaned into his drawers, pulling out several pairs of fitted and relaxed black chinos, black leather Nike hiking boots, the Armani sandals he’d worn to Yarmouth, black swim trunks, another short-sleeved button-down Oxford like the one he was wearing right now, a Nike club hoodie, another hoodie that zipped, more pairs of black jersey shorts, two jersey tee shirts--black, all black, and a single long-sleeved navy cotton flannel, along with at least ten pairs of the black briefs he always wore, and a dozen pairs of black moisture-wicking socks. He pushed through his hangers and Kenzie’s eyes fell on a black short-sleeved Oxford with earth-tone feathers printed all over it--”Bring that one, baby,” she said. “I like that one.”

He turned to her, smiling. “Whatever you want, Princess Kenzie.”

Kenzie was putting some of her jewelry (her rose quartz, the tiny rose-gold moon, her triple-moon pendant with the black obsidian) in a little travel pouch she usually used for it, and smiled with satisfaction at his answer. “Yep, that’s right.” She pulled the new black Vans onto her feet, skipping away from him to the bathroom, feeling his eyes following her all the way, the drift of his thoughts: Kenzie, my sweet Kenzie, my little shooting star, my firefly, I want to kiss your hair, your cheeks, your feet, the sweet space between your legs...she gripped toiletries in her fingers, calling out to him: “What do you need from in here, baby? I can bring it to you.” But she realized he was coming up behind her then, his long hands drifting around her under her breasts, his mouth coming to her neck.

“We need to get going, baby,” she laughed, twisting out of his arms, her toothbrush, mascara, eyeliner and tube of deodorant slipping out of her hands at his insistent touch; they scattered against the sink. She gave him a facetious look of annoyance and he grinned at her. “Later, okay? Stop being so naughty. We have a three hour drive ahead of us.”

Duncan groaned at the ceiling. “Don’t remind me, Kenz. I haven’t driven a car for that long in...probably at least two years.”

“We can take turns. I still drive Momby around in her old Jeep sometimes, so honestly I’m more used to a stickshift at this point. But I have a quick memory.”

“My little Kenzie driving a stickshift. That’s just sexy.”

Kenzie snorted. “Not if you saw it. There’s nothing sexy about that car. It’s like the old donkey of cars. That G-Class is sexy, though.” He bit his lip at that. You’re fucking sexy, baby. Nothing else is compared to you. He tried to grab her again and she skittered away, laughing nervously.

“Did Madeline get home okay last night?” Duncan was pulling several black Prada toiletry bags out of a bottom drawer under the sink, holding one open to Kenzie to put her things into--she smiled up at him and saw the melting expression in his eyes as he hovered over her. She took the bag from him and his hand immediately drifted into her hair.

“Yeah, she was fine. She told me to tell you she hopes we have a good time. I was thinking, baby--I think I’m going to turn my phone off during the trip. I’ll bring it, but I might not turn it back on until we get back. Unless there’s an emergency.”

“You know what, babe--that’s a great idea. I’m gonna do that too.” Duncan pulled his black iPhone out of his back pocket, holding down the side button, swiping the power off. He slid it back into his pocket, palm falling against her cheek.

“I can’t wait to be there alone with you. Kenzie. I can’t wait to show you everything.You’re going to love it so much.”

“I love you so much,” and she grinned up at him, hand coming against his on her face, cherishing the warmth of it. He leaned to kiss her but she slipped away, her mind humming with mischief towards him.

“No more kisses till we get to the cabin, baby. That’s the new rule.”

“Ugh, Kenzie, that’s hours from now--” and his expression was enough to drive her to the edge of immediately recanting, but Kenzie crossed her arms, turning her chin up in mock severity.

“Then you better hurry up, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie gave him a prim look and slipped away from him to the closet, retrieving a tote bag from her drawers--it was midnight blue and had a pattern of white celestial suns and moons, tiny stars glowing in the background. Kenzie went back to the kitchen and put the ghost story books and Duncan’s childhood mythology book in it, then she stepped into the study, moving to Duncan’s bookcases--she couldn’t resist looking back at The Youth of Bacchus for a long moment, lost in its ethereal beauty. I could kiss it, I love it so. She turned back to the bookcase, searching through his meticulously organized library--organized first by subject, then by author, alphabetically. Astronomy/astrology, she found near the top of the first shelf, and hummed with frustration--I’m too short to reach.

“Dunny! Come help me! And bring me the books on the nightstand, please?” She cupped a hand around her mouth and shouted through to the bedroom. Duncan appeared a moment later, Jane Eyre and The Golden Compass under his arm. “What’s this one about?” He asked, holding the second aloft.

“I haven’t started it yet, but I think it’s about parallel universes or something? I think that’s what the synopsis said.” He passed them to her, fingers clutching at her as she put them in the tote, trying to kiss her again. She deftly avoided him, loving the tiny frustrated sounds he made, the pained longing in his sky-colored eyes. “Baby, help me reach a stargazing book. That one up there, Backyard Guide to the Night Sky.” Duncan went to reach for it, then stopped, smiling at her vexingly. His hair looks so perfect. His skin is so beautiful. He is so fucking beautiful.

“Kiss me first.”

“Hey, I thought I said--”

“Please, baby. Please? Just one...little...kiss. Please, Miss Stone. I beg you.” Duncan was dipping his face (fuck he’s so beautiful, fuck, I can’t get past it, I can’t stop admiring him, he just doesn’t seem real sometimes, it’s like I made him up in my head, how can I resist him) down to her, his fingers drifting down the sides of her waist, and she tried for another long moment, tried to fight it, but then his hands were cupping along the bottom of her ass, dragging her against him, and her mouth was opening to him, and she thought fuck it, I love you so much--and his tongue was teasing into hers and she sighed and thought fuck we’re never gonna get to that cabin at this rate and he pushed her against the bookcase, fingers coming up to her hair and under her ear, pulling her insistently into him, and he tasted like the mango and bitter coffee and smelled like rain on cedar wood--

“Okay, baby--” she tried to pull away and he captured her lips again, moaning into her softly, “Dunny--you got your kiss, get that book for me--”

“I love you.”

“I know you do.”

“I love you, Kenzie.”

“I know, you dipshit, I fucking love you too.” She stuck her tongue out at him, but Duncan wasn’t deterred--he pressed his nose against hers, drifting it from side to side, then leaned back to stare at her. His eyes were like clouds reflecting a blue sea; he could see into her mind, she knew, feel the rosy adoration there for him. Just for you, Duncan Shepherd, and only for you, and you fucking know it. You know you’re the One, the only One, exalted in my eyes, beloved. He stared at her for another long moment (divine goddess, she heard, princess of heaven)--then, not without a marked disappointment, reached his long arm up to the shelf and brought the book down for her.

“It’s time to go, baby,” she whispered. “You can kiss me a million times when we get there.”

“Promise?”

“I fucking promise, Prince Duncan. In the long grass. Under the stars.”

-------

It was past 9 when they were finally on the road--Duncan wore his round Yves sunglasses, the smooth glide of the G-Class’ steering wheel drifting under his elegant hand; he was pressing one of his black Puma suede sneakers (Kenzie was amused to note it was the first time she’d ever seen him wear sneakers of any kind, but these were undoubtedly Duncan-style) on and off the gas pedal impatiently, starting and stopping in the Arlington traffic on the way to the Maryland highway.

They’d packed everything neatly in the trunk and along the backseat; Kenzie’s eyes gazed over her dark red roses affectionately, the gold vase carefully tucked into a basket that rested in the middle of the backseat, held steady between the two coolers and the picnic basket. A bellhop had appeared upstairs to help with a cart after Duncan had called downstairs on the intercom, so it hadn’t taken long. It was everything else that took awhile, Kenzie thought, thinking of Duncan’s hot, insistent kisses--she glanced over at him, saw him glancing between her and the road, looked away, smiling into her hand, her own round sunglasses shielding her eyes from him. She took another bite of a half-eaten chocolate-peanut butter Luna bar in her other hand, and flipped the Sirius XM on as Duncan merged onto I-270, heading north--Kenzie had waved as they’d driven past Madeline’s neighborhood a few minutes before, murmuring “hi Momby, bye Momby,” under her breath. Duncan had glanced at her, and she saw his endeared smile. Kenzie found the electronic station from last night, rolling the window down--the day wasn’t quite as hot as it would be later, yet, and there was a delicious summer wind. A sultry feminine voice drifted through the speakers as Duncan hit the highway, pressing his foot fully down on the gas now--Kenzie’s heart drifted up, and she sighed deeply, relief flowing through her. She reached for Duncan’s hand and he grasped her fingers, eye on the road. I can feel your heart lift too, baby. We’re escaping.

I’mma swallow all these diamonds, I’mma make you proud--you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest...chain me up, trap me in gold, you’re my king, I gotta have you close--

God, this sounds like it’s about us, Kenzie thought shyly into him, and she could see him biting into his lip, his thumb drifting across to her knee. It does, doesn’t it. She twined her fingers into his there, loving the weight of him, the warm halo of his touch, the smooth drift of the car, the cool smell of new leather in its interior. The wind was whipping her hair against her neck, the sun hovering a quarter of the way into the sky, the temperature still in the merciful upper 70’s, and according to the GPS, traffic was minimal all the way to the lake. Kenzie laid her head back into the seat, sighing contentedly.

Pick me up and go, no I don’t wait don’t wait for no one, you gotta pick me up and go, no I don’t wait don’t wait don’t wait no, I’mma glow with or without you, two mil’ in my system I’mma swallow all these diamonds never spit ‘em out…

“I’m gonna jump head-first into the lake as soon as we get there,” Kenzie was murmuring to Duncan, her eyes drifting closed behind her sunglasses in the comfort of this moment. “Let’s go swimming, then eat lunch, then fuck all afternoon--”

“Holy fuck, Kenz--that sounds perfect. Wait till you see the water, today is exactly the kind of day I was talking about, where the sky reflects on it and everything is so clear and blue--”

“Like your eyes, baby,” Kenzie felt sleepy suddenly, sleepy with the depth of the peace she felt, the half-eaten granola bar falling down into her lap from her fingers, her other hand soothed by the slow caress of Duncan’s thumb over her skin. She heard his little scoff, but felt the glowing warmth of his affection, his quiet acknowledgement that she was right. Yeah. Yes, baby. Like my eyes when I stare at you, and you alone.

“What’s the bedroom like, baby?” She murmured to him, her eyes still closed. The wind felt so miraculously good; she smiled in the cocoon of all of it, the feeling of the sun on her cheek, the pressure of his hand, the electronic pulse of the music from the speakers, only a couple of hours and we’ll be in our own secret paradise.

“I’m assuming you mean the master bedroom, which is where we’ll be sleeping,” she heard Duncan say, his thumb still drifting against her, and Kenzie puzzled at that--what kind of cabin has a master bedroom? Her curiosity burned for a moment at Duncan’s quietness after his statement, then the soothing sensations of the drive were drifting against her again. Might as well just enjoy the ride and see it when we get there. You’re being coy on purpose, baby. Kenzie opened her eyes for a moment, glancing at him. Duncan’s face was placidly beautiful, his sharp jaw striking as he looked toward the road--a remix of Ella Fitzgerald’s Blue Skies now pumped from the speakers--blue skies smiling at me, nothing but blue skies do I see, nothing but blue--and Kenzie thought this is how it feels to be with you.

Kenzie closed her eyes again, leaning her head back into the seat this time--when she opened them again, she realized she’d fallen asleep. The light had changed, was brighter and coming from directly overhead, the sun no longer streaming into the car from the side. Her neck was aching from the odd position she’d slipped into, her head crooked down onto her shoulder. Duncan looked at her sideways, grinning at her. The road was mostly deserted now but for a Prius driving a yard ahead of them and a slow-moving red Corolla that Duncan passed easily--they were surrounded by trees on either side of the asphalt, and it felt like they were climbing to a slightly higher altitude, the G-Class on the drift of an incline.

“Hi, baby. We’re about half an hour away now.”

“You’re kidding.” Kenzie lifted her arms out, stretching, the sound of her voice decidedly sleep-tinged in her ears. “I slept for two hours?” She glanced up at the dashboard; the digital clock read 11:37.

“It’s okay, baby. Yesterday was a long day--the last few days have been long. It’s all been--you know. Overwhelming. You were tired.”

“I said I was gonna help drive.”

“Kenzie, angel, it doesn’t matter. It went by so fast--it was peaceful. To watch over you. It was soothing, to have some time to think about everything. About...my mother. About Annette, I mean, but about my mother too. My real mother. Whoever she is. Wherever she is.”

“I’m sure Annette knows.” Kenzie reached for Duncan’s hand again and he drifted it out to her, grasping her. He looks so lovely in the memory of his solitude, she thought. I can see how his face must have looked at me as I slept. Oh, baby. How I love you.

“Yeah, I--I’m going to talk to her when we get back. I decided I will. There are things I know she knows that she needs to tell me. But for now I think it was enough to just contemplate it. Accept it. That there’s this whole part of me I haven’t known about until now. And it was calming to--to think about you...” Duncan’s head dipped here, his expression shy. To think about how much I love you, about how much I want to marry you, how much I want to know about the thing that’s coming, the hidden thing that’s right on the horizon, the secret thing, the thing that will tell us about each other, why it feels like we’ve always been together, always will be, about the dreams. “And the things that have been happening.”

“I wonder if there are other things we can do. You moved through a room just by thinking about it. I moved objects--I moved a person. I wonder if there are other things. We should try things, I mean--being in the woods alone is the perfect place for us to do weird shit without anyone bothering us,” and he snorted at her, laughing. Kenzie grinned at him, then she was serious again, straightening the smile. “Let’s see if we can figure it out.”

“Okay, baby. Let’s do weird shit.” Duncan was taking his sunglasses off, smiling at her with bemused mischief in his gaze--the oaks and pines gathering overhead and rising along the road were shielding them from the sunlight, and it was shady inside the car now, sunbeams dipping in and out, dancing over his cheeks. But within the playful expression in his face, the trust in his eyes shook her heart; I’d follow you anywhere, to the ends of the earth, to the edge of the universe, Mackenzie Stone. I’d follow you into the darkest abyss. Even that would be heaven, as long as you’re there. A line from Wuthering Heights, a book she’d loved fiercely since high school, drifted into her mind, clashing against his thoughts--if all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger…

“We’re getting really close now,” Duncan said, glancing away from her at the GPS. “Kenzie. I have a confession. I may have been misleading when I called it a cabin. It’s more of a--uhmm. A very large cabin.”

“Duncan.”

He bit into his lip. Turn left here, the GPS chirped, a feminine voice with a British accent. In .2 miles, turn left onto Lakeside Trail. Duncan spun the steering wheel under his long hands, and Kenzie’s eyes drifted to the Cartier bracelet locked to his left wrist, its gold flashing. It’s me. That bracelet is me, my gold, the chain of us together, the golden thread of us.

“You’ll see. I think it’s..probably...bigger than you might be expecting.”

“Fuck. I forgot. You’re Duncan Shepherd. Playboy billionaire, soon to be CEO and majority shareholder of Shepherd Unlimited. Hot shit.”

“If I’m a playboy, you’re a playgirl. My little playgirl bunny. God, now I’m imagining your centerfold, fuuuuck--”

“Ugh, shut up, god, you’re being naughty today.” Kenzie reached out and pinched his side, hard, and he laughed in surprised pain, shying away from her. “Oww, baby, that fucking hurt.”

“Keep it up and I’m going to fucking spank you next,” Kenzie threatened.

“What if I like it?” He laughed as she jabbed her fingers out again, dancing them along his torso.

“We might just need to test that theory, then, huh baby?”

Duncan didn’t say anything, just continued to smile at her, amused and shy. He turned the SUV down a very long gravel path now, up to a long steel-bar gate with round golden lamps on either side of its entrance. Duncan pulled the car up to a keypad that dipped from an awning at the side, punching a code into it: 070688. His birthday, she thought. His mother’s doing, no doubt. Kenzie continued to drift inside his thoughts--the gates floated open and Duncan reached for her hand again as he put his foot on the gas. I was so used to being dominant with partners before you, baby, she heard him thinking. But I love it when you tell me what to do, and I love to tie you up and worship you, how you let me lead when my desire to is strong, and I loved it when you tied me up too, when you tell me I can’t touch my cock until you say I can, when you told me I couldn’t take my cock ring off, that only you could do it--with us, both are right, both feel right. Giving to you, taking from you, and around and around, like some holy circle we make together. I love it so much. I’d try anything with you. It’s always safe in the drift of your love. I love the way we give to each other endlessly. Nothing in the world could possibly feel more right to me.

Yes, baby, yes, Duncan. Then Kenzie lifted her eyes past the two rows of trimmed crabapple trees that lined the gravel drive--they were covered in red clusters, their very young fruit visible in the dappled sunlight of the late morning. She stifled the gasp that wanted to escape immediately; Duncan clearly heard her sharp intake, however, and glanced at her, his blue gaze hovering between apprehension at any hint of discontent, and an obvious hope for her approval.

This is not a fucking cabin, Duncan Shepherd. This is a fucking lakeside mansion. Kenzie pulled her sunglasses off, squinting at the huge structure that rose before them through the window of the SUV, aware her mouth was hanging open.

“Holy fuck, Duncan,” she whispered.

The cabin, as Duncan had called it, was a two-story sprawling structure, easily beyond 5,000 square feet, made of elegant stacked stone and dark walnut wood, with long, latticed dusky-red windows stretching along every wall of the lower level, giving it a regal romanticism that Kenzie immediately loved. The edges of the roof were slanted, made in dark black oak slatting. There were round string lights hung over every awning, but they were unlit at this hour of the day; Kenzie could only imagine how beautiful they looked at night. The structure’s lower level clearly encompassed more than half a dozen rooms, judging from its length--and a glass-enclosed structure with long wood tables, clearly for group events, was built off the side to Kenzie’s right, a spacious garage next to that. The entirety of the cabin-mansion’s length was enclosed by smooth, decorative white stones, and flowers were planted along the bottom of every window--Kenzie could make out geraniums, marigold, peonies and gardenia. There was a path to the left, surrounded by pines, and down it Kenzie could see a triangular-shaped, elegant white-wood gazebo built in the center of blooming hydrangeas. Inside the gazebo was a long wicker outdoor couch surrounded by flower pots with dozens of pillows, more of the round string lights hung about the eaves, and a long, low drink table with a decorative lantern. A long wooden swing hung nearby from a huge, sturdy oak that looked like it was at least a hundred years old. Beyond that, Kenzie could make out the long stretch of luscious water, indeed reflecting the blue of the summer sky with striking clarity--just as Duncan had promised. The lake. There was a long deck that extended from the shore, and a canoe tied to it with a length of rope, bobbing in the small tide. And I haven’t even seen the backyard yet.

Duncan had brought the SUV to a stop, pressing the smart key; the engine faded into silence. He reached a hand out to her, and she looked at him; is it okay, baby? His eyes searched her face, his mouth opening slightly towards her.

“Okay? Baby. This is like...oh my god. This is fucking paradise.” Kenzie felt tears begin to prick at her eyelids--she fought to keep them back, but it was all so wonderful, so much bigger than her, the vastness of the loveliness of him, of this, washing over her in a suffocating crash. Could this all be a dream, she thought once more. All of it, the last few weeks, my life utterly changed by you forever, my love, the magick inside us now, the magick that kisses every corner of my mind, every corner of our lives, tied together now, the beauty of everything, and you--you, so wildly beautiful, so tender to me in every instance, you, impossibly wonderful, impossibly perfect for me, and yet somewhere defiantly possible--please tell me, if it is a dream, that I’ll never wake up, that I’ll sleep for all of time inside this extraordinary, resplendent dream of you, my dearest love, Duncan--

“Kenzie. Angel. Don’t cry. You’re gonna make me--cry--” Duncan’s voice broke, and she saw the tiniest tremble in his lips, watched the clouded sky of his eyes flicker, resonate with the emotion she could feel from him like a swirling gust of wind; Kenzie, in an instant, threw her arms around him over the middle of the car seats, burying her face in his neck, the tears coming now, no way she could stop them, a little shuddering sob escaping from her. Duncan was pulling her easily into his lap, tucking her short legs over to his thighs so they fell down between the space between his bare knees, the smoothness of her skin brushing his prickly calves, her body pressing flush against his, the denim of her tiny shorts against the soft jersey of his crotch. The warmth and the scent of him--wood, jasmine--overwhelmed her more; you are no dream, my love, you never were and I know it, the time before you was a dream, the time without you when I’m away from you is a dream, and you are the only real thing in all the world. The love I feel in your arms is the only reality.

“I just--getting to be here with you, alone--fuck, baby, I’m just--”

“I know, Kenz, I know, baby. I can’t stand it either. God, I love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking happy, Kenzie. I feel like my heart’s just going to fucking stop--”

“No fucking way. If it does, I’ll bring you back to life.” She was pulling her face away from his neck, the tears stinging her cheeks; she saw the glitter of the tears in his too before she opened her mouth against his; he cradled her low, dipping his head over her, his arm clutching at the band of her top under her breast, along the rise of her ribs, his Cartier bracelet burying into her hair, gold on tawny gold. She felt one of his tears fall down onto her cheek, sliding to pool at her throat, and Kenzie brought her fingers to his face, wiping them away as he tasted her lips with aching slowness.

Duncan, I love you. With...with every part of myself. With everything I have. He was nodding into her, his soft, entreating sounds making her feel as though she were vibrating, enveloped by him. They clutched each other for awhile; the peaceful sounds of the birds, the wind, the lake splashing far off, the rustling of the trees--that was their music. It held them, drifting into the car windows, surrounded them, made them a bed for a long moment, let them lay together inside it as they tasted each other, as their tears calmed, as Kenzie wandered away from the feeling of tears, into a heady desire for him, an abundant joy. She pulled back, her hand on his bristly jaw.

“I wanna go inside, baby. I wanna see everything and then I wanna go fucking swimming and eat lunch with you and fuck you in every fucking room and out in the grass, under the trees--”

“Kenzie, fuck, baby, we get to be here for days--fuck, I can’t believe it, I’m so fucking happy--”

Kenzie grinned and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his mouth--Duncan’s words bled away as he kissed her there, lips open, his thoughts rosy with her, her mind brimming over with the gold she felt for him; for the gold is my love, and it always has been. It’s me giving the best of myself to him, because I love him. I love you, Duncan. I always will. The gold is the everlasting promise of my love.

“Baby, let’s go. Show me everything.” Kenzie leaned over and pulled the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open with one Vans-clad foot. Duncan helped her to the ground as she slid out of his lap, his grip steady, but very tender. He slid out after her, his chest pressing into the back of her hair for a moment, his mouth kissing down on the crown of her head. Kenzie went into the backseat, grasping the golden vase that held her roses with careful fingers--this will be the first thing to go inside, the token of his love for me. Duncan grasped one of the coolers and easily hoisted it in his arms, crooking his head towards the big front double-doors made of more sturdy dark walnut. He nodded to his thigh, eyes lifting to her.

“Kenz, get the keys out of my pocket, will you?”

Kenzie gently reached into the jersey shorts, staring into his face as she did, being sure to let her fingers brush against the length of his cock as she dipped her fingers into the pocket; he shivered, biting into his lip, sending a wanton promise into her. You’re gonna get fucked, baby. I’m gonna fuck you in the wild woods under the stars, in the big fuck off bed, in the bath, fuck, everywhere. I’m gonna rip those little shorts off you and make you fucking scream as loud as you can until you lose your voice and I’m fucking deaf, angel, babylove, Princess.

Kenzie giggled nervously, her face pressing down against her roses, watching his expression morph into one of romantic longing. My queen of roses. Persephone of spring. Kenzie stepped away from him to the doorway, her Vans crunching over the gravel, and unlocked the door with a rustically-styled key--as she stepped inside she groaned, overcome with the loveliness of everything again, Duncan coming up behind her, setting the cooler just inside the door. The interior of the front room was huge, a spacious expanse she could dance across if she wanted to--there were two long couches in the center of the glossy hardwood, a huge, probably priceless dark Persian rug under them. The roof was a wildly erotic charred black--a huge pair of moose antlers were attached to one wall, the Shepherd crest on another with distinct fleur de lis. A huge, life-sized statue of Hermes in a breastplate, smiling good-naturedly, his winged feet obvious, stood in one corner; a naked Aphrodite in another, her long hair fanning out in an invisible wind behind her, her face turned up ecstatically to some unseen delight, her breasts bare. A huge stone-lined fireplace was against the center wall that adjoined with a middle hallway, an opulent black grate across it. Along the wall that faced the backyard there was a huge glass window, looking out on a long deck with a sheltered deck table and a fence, beyond it, covered in more of the round lights, with a locking gate.

“We’re turning all the fairy lights on tonight,” Kenzie said, turning to Duncan. He nodded with a smile; such a beautiful, earnest smile it was. Anything you want, Princess Kenzie. Kenzie could see the fire pit beyond the deck, its huge, coppery circular indentation distinct on an inlay of deep-set brick in the daylight, low wicker lounge chairs in tawny colors surrounding it. Beyond that was woods--dense from the look of them, though there seemed to be a marked path from what she could see from her far position, the lake stretching to the far left, blue-reflecting and wildly inviting. Plenty of time to explore, Kenzie thought. She could feel Duncan’s eyes watching her again and looked up at him, smiling. She set the roses down on a table near the entrance, bringing her hands against the fabric of his button-down, feeling his body beneath it, the coiled strength in him, the desirous tightness that was lingering there. His hands came around to the small of her back, to the bare skin there above the tiny little denim shorts she wore.

“Dunny. I love it so much.”

“Come look at the bedroom. We’ll get the other stuff in a minute.” He clutched her hand, leading her to the hall, then up a huge staircase with a black banister, a chandelier of Swarovski crystals and gold embellishments hanging at the second-floor landing. He pulled her down the wide, darkwood-paneled hall, past several empty guest rooms, one with matte black decor, one with silver, to the end, where a set of double-doors painted with gold leaf around the edges seemed to promise her something exceptional--he pushed them open and Kenzie oooohhhh’d, immediately letting go of him to run to the bed and throw herself onto it--it was so wide she felt immediately lost in the center of it, sinking down into its luxe, gold-embellished feathery spread, laughing in delight, her hair tossing into her eyes, her heart fluttering against the Tiffany moon. There was an opulent, upholstered gold panel at the head of it, and what seemed like a dozen duck feather pillows piled high against it. Silky, sheer white curtains with gold edges hung across huge bay windows along the wall--through them she could glimpse the lake, its serene surface impossibly lovely in the early afternoon streaming in.

This room was fitted with golden decor at every turn, gold-leaf along the wide dresser and the decorative tables, each with a breathtakingly lovely decorative gold leaf laurel wreath. On one wall hung a painting in an embellished gold frame: Cupid and Psyche, Kenzie knew immediately, her breath catching. In it, Cupid pressed his lips to Psyche’s cheek, her eyes closed in ecstatic repose, his wings, here portrayed as deep purple, the color of ripe grapes, dipping around her naked form, a crown of violets in his curls, curls like Duncan’s. It was wildly lovely, and looking at it made her long for him, as though it were them painted there, not the god of passionate attachment and his lover. She glimpsed a gold-embellished bathroom through a side-door, and what looked like the side of a polished coppery-gold bathtub. She glanced up to Duncan from her prostrate position.

“This is a bed fit for a queen,” Kenzie murmured.

Fuck. I didn’t realize we’d be sleeping in a bed like this. The mere feeling of the silky spread under her bare legs was kindling desirous heat between her legs.This bed is for fucking. This bed is for getting fucked hard by your Prince’s big cock. This golden, feather-soft bed is an altar for his beautiful mouth to worship the space between your legs. This bed is for you to kneel on while you suck him dry, for you to be tied to while he works you out into wordless cries of euphoria. This bed is for you to slave over each other’s bodies, sleep until noon, and then wake up wrapped to each other’s lips, impossibly entwined, sheets tangled in intricate longings, smelling of your need for one another. Duncan was staring, listening to these thoughts from her, his gaze becoming hot and flushed, the blush of his desire spreading over his statuesque beauty.

“Good thing it finally has one in it,” he replied. Duncan had leaned on the door in his familiar tick--his eyes had darkened deeply to storms, his thoughts dipping low into heady lust, the taste of her cunt, the softness of her skin, the nectar she knew he regarded as her mouth, and Kenzie bit her lip, propping herself on her elbows. Come the fuck here and get me, then, King. Come and get your Queen.

Then Duncan was advancing on her, his arms reaching down for her with a determined look in his divinely blue eyes that made her blood freeze, and she was writhing in his strong grip, with his sudden, immediate ardency, the aching softness of the down at her back stirring warmth through her body, in dazzling streaks of sensitivity. Duncan lowered his lips to the moon at her throat, making her gasp (my moon, my moonlight, moon flower, he was thinking) and then he was drifting down to kiss between her ribs at the deep V of her wrapped, sunlight-colored top, down further to kiss her belly button, open-mouthed, his tongue licking out.

“I think,” he whispered, his large, insistent hands at the waistband of her shorts, his mouth drifting to her hipbone over the denim, “That you need to get fucked hard before we do anything else today, Princess Kenzie. I think we need to christen this bed as ours. What do you think?” His hands were pressing into her now, holding her down, drifting up to her throat, holding her against the silky, aching softness of the bed, sensing how it was stirring her, thrilling her, kindling her desire up to a high agitation.

“Uhhhuh,” Kenzie felt absolutely weak to him, lost in his adamant stare, lost in the press of the tips of his fingers, sensing that they were barely containing their powerful grip on her. The bed, the huge house, the lake, the woods--we’re finally here, she thought. And it kindles a wild lust in me, the whisper of Dionysus, urging us to abandon our senses, and fuck each other until we can’t breathe in the middle of the day on this wildly easeful bed that feels like a cloud from heaven. We don’t have anywhere to be. We don’t have to meet with anyone, we don’t have to go to work, to interviews, to see our mothers, to find bodyguards, to go to stupid Galas, to fight off paps, nothing, nowhere. Our phones are off, we’ve disappeared from the world, we’re alone, we’re together, we have days. DAYS. Holy fuck, baby. Holy fucking fuck.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, and she whimpered, long and low, and his mouth was pressing, hot, aching, at her throat, and his devotion was like a knife, and she wanted it plunged deep into her body.

“Oh my fucking goddess, baby--fucking fuck me.”

17 notes · View notes

krsnlove · 5 years

Text

Speechless

Notes: Fluffy Friday and I’m forever here for it. I have like 3 fics in other series I should’ve been writing but this was easier to write 👀🙊

Rating: G

Tagging: @alj4890 @cocomaxley @kennaxval @darley1101 @rafasgirl23415 @thecordoniandiaries

The image of the hardcover book on her nightstand taunts her as she attempts to get through her day. Thoughts of curling up in bed with a warm blanket and the book relentlessly plays in her conscious mind, always there. Always tempting her.

The ringing of her phone brings her out of her daydream, glancing at the screen, she smiles at the picture and name belonging to the one responsible for her distraction.

“Hi Shahzy,” she quietly answers, not wanting to disturb the others around her. She stood from the mannequin she was dressing and made her way out the room.

His daily phone calls were something she looked forward to daily. Hana found herself opening up to Rashad more as their relationship progresses. She isn’t used to sharing these parts of herself. The deep yearnings of her heart, her innermost personal thoughts, the ambitions she has. He’s heard it all. Not only is he patient and attentive but he has a knack for committing to memory what she shares with him.

Hana remembers mentioning to him several months ago about her favorite book, Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice. Once. It shouldn’t surprise her by now how well he listens but it still catches her off guard how incredibly personal and detail oriented he is when it comes to her.

“So, how many chapters do you have left?,” Rashad’s question brings a smile to her face. She’s read the book countless times yet, each time she finds something new within the words of the pages. This time it isn’t so much the written words inside the book that excites her but the folded pieces of paper after each chapter that Rashad has placed. Each note was handwritten by him and expresses the things he loves about her and their relationship.

Chapter 8 was, “I love the way your brows furrow with concentration when you read, write, work.”

Chapter 46 was, “That smile you have, the one reserved for just me. I live each day to see that smile.”

Chapter 52 was, “You’re better at everything than I am Hana. I love that about you. Just don’t tell any of my co-workers. Or friends. Better yet, just don’t tell anyone. Please.”

“I finish the last chapter tonight,” she says with enthusiasm. She found herself looking forward to the end of each chapter with his personalized notes being the perfect ending before going to bed.

“Oh! You..that was fast!,” Rashad exclaims. Hana doesn’t tell him that she may have stayed up a few nights just to read an extra chapter or two to get to the messages.

“I told you. It’s my favorite book,” she sheepishly replies and is met with laughter on the other line.

“So I’ve been told,” he says before clearing his throat, “So, uh listen I’ve got a last minute important conference call tonight. With uh, William...yes. William. So I’ll have to cancel our dinner date tonight Hana. I’m so sorry.” The nervousness in his voice is lost on Hana as she nods her head in agreement.

“Just as well. I’m behind on a few designs myself that needs to be done before I can get home. Will I see you tomorrow at least?,” Hana’s assistant comes out of the room looking for her, causing her to rush off the phone.

“Of course Hana. You know I can’t go too long without seeing you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Sounds good Shahzy. I gotta go. I love you!,” she replies before hanging up. She takes a deep sigh before following her assistant back into the busy room where she is bombarded with work again.

It’s almost two in the morning before Hana finally makes it home. It seems as if the universe was punishing her for not focusing on work throughout the day she reflects as she slides off her heels. She quietly whispers a silent thanks into the air for her assistant who took the initiative and brought her dinner to the office. Stripping off the rest of her clothing, she jumps into the shower and allows the hot water to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders.

Despite the long hours at her office, she enjoys her work. Fashion design has always been a hobby of hers and now people were paying money for not only a dress made by her but her input as well. It still feels surreal how much her opinion is valued to others but its helped boost confidence in herself and forces her to come out of her shell more.

As the water pressure continues to alleviate the tight muscles in her upper body, thoughts of Rashad play through her mind. She frowns at the realization that she hasn’t seen him in almost three days. Their dinner date that was canceled at the last minute was supposed to be their first time sitting down together for a meal in weeks. Despite their busy schedules, Rashad is her biggest supporter near or far.

She isn’t sure how it happened, her and Rashad. She knows it was slow-moving though, both taking their time to get to know each other. They were both coming from a broken engagement, still healing from the wounds of a failed relationship. For the past year they continued to date while discovering new things about each other. Their likes and dislikes, the way they communicate love to each other, Rashad has seen her at her lowest and she has witnessed firsthand the burden that sometimes came with being a successful lawyer when she would find him overworked and exhausted in his office.

Rashad was the first to express the love word between them. No words could ever bring her as much joy as it did when he first told her. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to return the expression at the time. He had been so understanding and reassured her that she didn’t need to say it if she didn’t feel the same way, but she did. The anxiety and fear of wearing her heart on her sleeve consumed her. It prevented her from expressing the desires of her heart to the man she knew she loved. Weeks went by before she finally overcame that fear. Hana still remembers Rashad pulling her into his arms and picking her off the floor, overjoyed at her confession, as he spun her around.

Turning off the water and climbing out of the shower, Hana dries herself off with a nearby towel and dresses into a pair of silk shorts and matching tank top, ready for her nightly routine with her favorite book in bed. She eagerly pulls back the covers of her oversized bed and climbs in, the cool crisp sheets a welcomed change of temperature. The book is still on the nightstand from the previous night as she carefully picks it up and opens to the bookmark holding place of the last chapter.

Hana grabs a tissue nearby as she reads the familiar lines of the ending of the chapter. The reunion of Darcy and Elizabeth never fail to bring her to tears as she lightly dabs at her eyes.

She excitedly turns the last page, ready to see the familiar note with the handwriting that belongs to the man she loves.

She stares at the piece of paper without blinking. Words have failed her. Her brain isn’t able to comprehend what she is reading on the small piece of paper.

“Chapter 61: Hana, I love you. Will you marry me?”

She moves her fingers along the written words, unsure if this is real or not when the sound of someone clearing their throat brings her out of her daze.

“Ahem, Hana.”

She looks up to see Rashad standing in front of her. His handsome face seems to glow despite the low lighting in the bedroom. He sheepishly flashes a smile at her before running a hand through his hair. Hana closes the book and moves to climb out of the bed before Rashad stops her.

“No, please. Let me do this right,” her feet hang off the bed as he approaches her, and begins to lower himself on one knee. He reaches into his right pant pocket and pulls out a small red box. Hana’s eyes grow wide, she can feel her heartbeat quicken, her brain finally catching up to speed and able to comprehend what is happening.

He opens the box to reveal an exquisite multi-stone princess cut diamond ring. The facets of the gem shine brightly in the box as it gleams before her eyes. Rashad takes her hand as he holds the ring box in his other hand.

“Hana, this past year with you have been..nothing short of amazing. You’ve not only become the love of my life but my best friend. I find myself hurrying to get through the day just so I can be with you again. Just to see you again. I now know it was you that was missing in my life. I refuse to go back to a life that doesn’t have you in it. I want you, need you in my life. Will you make me the happiest man, once again, and marry me?”

Hana breathing begins to quicken as he looks at her, waiting for an answer.

“Did you just…,” her mouth and brain aren’t connecting as she attempts to finish the last of her sentence.

“Yes,” Rashad nervously chuckles as he answers her unfinished question.

“But you just…”

“Uh-huh.”

“But then that means…”

“Only if you’ll have me,” Rashad says beaming at her.

Hana nods her head in enthusiasm as a wave of emotion finally dawns on her as tears begin to stream down her face.

“Yes? Is that a yes?!,” the excitement in Rashad’s voice causes her to giggle as she attempts to speak through the tears of joy.

“Yes!,” she exclaims. He takes the ring from the box and delicately slips it onto her slender finger before placing a kiss on her hand. Rashad stands and pulls her to her feet before bringing her lips to his in urgency.

With both hands gently caressing her face, he breaks the kiss before whispering into her lips.

“I love you Hana.”

Her lips break into an easy smile as she closes the distance between them.

“I love you too Shahzy.”

#the royal romance #fanfiction #rashad x hana #hana lee #hana x rashad

17 notes · View notes

kkruml · 6 years

Text

I don’t even know your name Chapter 23

Ok gang. For anyone still hanging around for this thing- Here’s the last one.

I’m pretty sure I’ve been talked into an epilogue, but for all intents and purposes, this is it.

I got all sappy and emotional yesterday so this is a simple THANK YOU to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged this and who has just been a positive member of this fandom. You are all lovely.

Shout out to the lady who saw the VERY FIRST 100 words of anything even closely resembling fan fic (before I deleted it). @ecampbellsoup you are a stunning example of what humanity looks like at its best and I love ye for it and so much more.

@missclairebelle You just get me and I’m grateful for you. THANK YOU for everything you gave to this story.

@smoakingwaffles - What can I say that hasn’t been said? 23 chapters. WE DID IT. This entire story is dedicated to you.

AO3

Previously

“Jamie, I-” I stuttered, closing my eyes, unsure of how to continue. I wanted to respect tradition; I wanted to give Jamie the gift of his parents’ words on our wedding day. But where was I in all of this?

The crease in his brow faded and the grip on my arm relaxed as he took in my face. His gaze was intense and I fought to hold it, feeling suddenly dwarfed by his imposing shoulders- shoulders that just the night before had hovered over me as he found surrender.

I cleared my throat as I struggled to clear my thoughts and continue. “I know how important these traditions are, and I want to give you all of it. I just-”

Two deep breaths.

“I just don’t know where Claire Beauchamp is in any of this,” my words came fast and as I finished I felt breathless, empty. The words I had swallowed for the last several months were now lingering between us.

He said nothing but a ghost of a smile played at his lips as he nodded slowly. I caught a flicker of something I couldn’t name in his eyes as he held my stare. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles softly.

One week.

Then I would no longer be Claire Beauchamp.

I would be Claire Fraser.

CLAIRE

Two days to go.

“Just one last turn at the seamstress- the tartan isna quite right.” Jenny’s voice was in full force but she took an extra breath to soften it a little.

This was our last pre-wedding visit and the café had cleared out as we sipped the last of our tea. Over the last several weeks, we had settled into a comfortable friendship, an easiness that quickly developed into kinship.

The Fraser genetics were strong; certain gestures would catch my eye and I saw glimpses of Jamie- a quirk of an eyebrow or a deep exhale in frustration. She was strong and fierce when it came to her family-which now included me, I had to constantly remind myself- and I loved her for it.

“Erm... Okay yes of course.” My voice was soft and lacked conviction. The dress had looked fine to me- though I had little knowledge of just how the plaid was supposed to be arranged, folded, and tucked into my gown, so I just nodded and tried for a smile.

“We’re almost done Claire. I ken this is a lot for ye, seein’ as ye dinna grow up wi’ so many traditions as Jamie.” Her voice was kind and she gently squeezed my left hand, her finger grazed the ring- pausing on the engraved thistle. She smiled softly as she released my hand, adding with a chuckle, “Ye may be a Sassenach, but we’ll make a Scot of you yet.”

I laughed with her as my right hand traced the side of my cup. The reality of her words hit my chest and I felt my heartbeat quicken, both in excitement and in anticipation.

“Are ye okay, Sassenach?”

Two deep breaths.

“Yes.”

I was not convincing- with a single glance, Jamie read my glass face. One hand cupped my head while large fingers massaged my scalp. He whispered words I didn’t quite understand but closed my eyes and let his voice and touch seep into my bones. After a few moments I felt calm and I leaned back, tilting my head up and he brought his mouth down to mine.

His lips were soft and warm, but he pulled away before I was ready. The noise that escaped me curled his lips at the corners and his fingers tightened around my curls momentarily before releasing me.

“I do love yer squeaky noises,” he laughed lightly as he slid into the chair beside me.

An earnest laugh emanated from my chest as I shook my head, “I do not make squeaky noises.”

“As ye say, mo chridhe,” his eyes softened as he said the word and I felt a flutter in my chest. I watched him grab the whisky bottle as he refilled my glass. I stretched my legs across his lap, my calf fitting in the space between his thighs, my feet dangling just slightly over. I blinked slowly, eyes unfocused on the table in front of me.

“What’s on yer mind?” He reached for my glass, taking a gulp of the amber liquid before setting it back down in front of me. “I can hear somethin’ rattlin’ round fierce up there.”

“It’s just…” I was stalling. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.” His voice was steady. “Ye ken that- right, Sassenach?”

I looked up from the table to see a calm deep blue staring back at me. I nodded and tried for a smile.

“The wedding-”

His brow flickered and his eyes widened but he regained control almost immediately, forcing my words to come quickly.

“Oh god NO- No Jamie, I’m not having second thoughts.” I could hear the panic in my voice as I leaned forward, my fingers searching for his. Finding one large hand resting on my thigh, I squeezed it with both hands.

“Ye sure?” his voice was thick with concern but he tried to hide it with a small smile as his other hand reached for and gently held the arch of my foot-lightly tickling it. “Are ye havin’ cold feet?”

I squirmed and tried to pull my foot but he grabbed my ankle, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

I recognized the gesture- he had done it before, many times. After long shifts or tough patient cases, he would find me thoroughly wrapped up in my own thoughts, and his hand would find one of a thousand ticklish spots on my body and gently caress it. Without fail, it would bring me back to the present and break down the cascade of thoughts I was drowning in.

“Aye, still no’ a squeak, ye say?” He tried for a wink as he loosened his grip and set his hand on a safe spot and my muscles relaxed.

A slight silence hung between the two of us and I felt the weight of my words returned.

“Your world is just so much… bigger than mine.” I brought my hands to my forehead, rubbing my temples as I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath before I opened them again and looked at him. “It’s just… I feel… adrift. I’m afraid “we” are going to get lost in all of this and… I won’t get to tell you what’s in my heart.”

He brought his body to me, hugged me and let his lips hover against my forehead as his breath came in waves, steady on my skin.

JAMIE

He could see her body slightly relax but still her frame looked contorted, almost foreign.

Adrift.

The word cut deep to his core and he flinched at the thought of it. He blinked hard, eyes focused on a curl of her hair as he rested his chin against her forehead.

Tradition was important to him- as old as the Highlands themselves. He wanted everything he was, including those traditions, to be offered to her. But she was his Claire. He was hers- irrevocably. He would lay himself bare, drop to his knees, and give up everything he was- for her.

The pageantry of the ceremony and reception had filled the space between them for the last several weeks, and he felt a sudden need to anchor himself to her- and her to him.

Flashes of an idea skated across his vision and he smiled into her curls. But that could come later. For tonight, he let his fingers linger in her hair and he slowly shifted closer to her, eager.

CLAIRE

One day to go.

Our bed was empty. Jamie had risen early, before I woke. I stretched my limbs, feeling a peculiar laziness coupled with a sensation of heady fulfillment from the night before. He had been both gentle and intoxicating last night, and the effects were still lingering in my bones as I floated somewhere between sleep and waking.

I had felt the drip of water from his curls as he mumbled a few sweet words into my cheek before leaving. Last minute preparations at the distillery.

The day surged ahead as texts came with lightning speed. Final checks on the dress, flowers, cake. The screen of my phone lit with a pulsing frequency; after a flurry of texts and a few missed calls, I had had enough. I was just about to shut my phone off when the screen lit up and it rang.

Joe.

Hearing from him was like a breath of fresh air.

I swiped the screen to answer and felt a sigh escape my lips.

“Hey hey, Lady Jane.”

“Joe!” I felt a lightness to my tone I hadn’t recognized in weeks and let my lips form a full smile as I reveled in the feeling. “It’s so good to hear your voice!”

“Surprised you recognized me, what with all the wedding hoopla.”

I knew he was joking but I felt my heart constrict and my breath caught in my chest. It felt like an eternity since I had seen him or Gail, or discussed anything other than patient cases or the infinite details of the wedding.

“Don’t cry on me now LJ or there’ll be no more tears for the big day,” his voice was laced with sincerity but I knew he was trying to lighten the mood. “So, you ready to go?”

“What you do you mean?”

“I’m downstairs; get your skinny white ass down here. I’m taking you to lunch.”

“Joe I couldn’t possibly- there’s so much to do.”

“Nonsense. I’ve got you covered,” I caught the smile on the other end of the phone, and I returned it.

JAMIE

Murtagh’s eyebrows danced across his forehead as he surveyed Jamie, fingers tracing the lines of the object in his hand. “Yer parents would be proud.”

“Aye?” he asked, a flicker of nerves crept into his voice as he cleared his throat. His hands moved with purpose but he noted a slight tremble to them. He clenched his hands into fists and released them, watching his fingers steady as he stretched them back out.

“I wasna sure there was a right woman for ye, but-” Jamie caught his uncle’s smile out of the corner of his eye and he paused, turning to face him. Murtagh nodded slowly, looking up to meet Jamie’s stare. “Claire has the sweetest smile. Havena seen one sae pure since yer mother.”

Jamie smiled and sighed. The only thing missing- his mam and da. He knew they would give their blessing, that they would have fallen for Claire just as he had. But in their absence, he was grateful to his kinsman for his approval.

Murtagh turned the pin over in his hands, softly repeating the inscription as he rubbed the metal to a polished shine. He kissed it gently before holding it out to Jamie.

He nodded, taking it carefully. After a moment, he raised his arms slightly as he presented himself for approval. “…Well?”

Murtagh’s voice was gruff but he heard the undercurrent of pride in his voice, “Ye’ll do.”

CLAIRE

The afternoon felt almost normal. Joe had confiscated my phone, turning it off and pocketing it. My initial panic was soon replaced with gratitude. I needed a few precious hours of normalcy before tomorrow. If anyone really needed me the list of whom to call would be short, and they’d find Joe.

We took up residence at our spot at Broch Mordha. The bottles still lined the brick wall, dotted with Edison bulbs. I settled into my barstool and shook my head, thinking back to the night we celebrated the end of medical school- the first time I saw Jamie. Since then we had spent countless nights here, glasses set atop the bar as we discussed future plans and recounted old memories. We ordered our usual drinks, sank into our seats, and talked about everything but the wedding and time seemed to stand still.

With a heavy sigh as our laughter died down, I looked down at my glass- disappointed to see it empty. The lingering taste of Glen Grant played at my tongue and the stress of the last few weeks slowly melted away and I felt content.

Joe eyed the clock behind the bar and smiled. He shifted towards me, his hand pulling out a small piece of paper from his breast pocket. A crisp, white, precisely folded note was suspended between his thumb and index finger, held out for me. I took it gently, my eyebrows pressed together as I eyed Joe’s face. He kept his expression passive and shifted back towards his glass.

I slowly unfolded the paper, noting the precision of the fold.

“Sassenach-

Join me for a hike.

Direach Sinn.

JAMMF”

I looked at him with eyes wide, mouth open, speechless.

“Joe…” I felt tears threaten.

“The man is pretty stubborn, I’ll give him that.” He said with a laugh and shake of his head.

“Yes, I know,” I matched his smile, my fingers tracing each letter on the paper.

“I wasn’t so sure about him at first, LJ. Seemed too good to be true, thought he was like all the rest.” He tilted his head, and I met his gaze, “But he’s your match, the other half of you- neither of you whole without the other.”

I felt my chin tremble as I nodded, smiling with a laugh, “You’re bloody right- as always, Joe.”

“Well you should get going, hm?”

I took one more moment before reaching for him, embracing him in a rib-crushing hug and giving a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Joe.”

“Anything for you, Lady Jane.” His arms encompassed me for a final moment before releasing me. With hands firmly set on my shoulders, he gave a wink before sending me on my way.

The hike was peaceful, but I felt an anticipation building with each step. I hadn’t seen Jamie all day and relished the thought of a few quiet moments in what had become our spot before the big day. I didn’t need much, just his steady calm next to me.

As I crested the hill, I was struck by the view. Vibrant purple and red of sunset streaked the sky, but they paled in comparison to the man standing in front of me.

A Highlander in full regalia was a sight to behold. His auburn curls burned like a match against the glow of the horizon. His navy blue jacket popped against the white of his button down shirt; his tie was tucked snugly, perfectly, into his vest and the distinctive Fraser plaid of his kilt hung precisely from his trim waist. A length of plaid draped over his left shoulder- secured with a pin.

I stopped short, taking in the breathtaking beauty that was Jamie.

His smile lit his face and I saw a flash of pride in his eyes as my gaze met his.

“Mo Nighean Donn,” he held out a hand to me and I took a few steps forward, the world around me froze and then melted away and all I could see was Jamie.

His hand closed around mine, squeezing gently and I felt a rush of warmth encompass me.

His voice was low and his accent thick but his eyes shone with a light I remembered from the first time we kissed- expectation mixed with contentment. “I ken ye dinna want or need a big weddin.’ It’s just you and me here. No one else.”

“Direach Sinn,” I said, trying for the lilt but failing.

He smiled back at me, a look of pride on his face. “Aye, Sassenach. Just us.”

He took both my hands in his and took a deep breath before he started.

“Claire,” his voice caressed my name and my heartbeat quickened. “I dinna have enough words to tell ye how much I love ye. But I vow to spend every day for the rest of my life tryin’ to show ye. I give ye my body to serve and protect ye. I give ye my name, my clan, and my family to ye. I give ye the very beat of my heart.”

He paused, raising my left hand to his lips, kissing the ring softly. My vision blurred with tears as I took in his face and tried to memorize every sound of his words as he spoke them.

“Ye are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone.” His voice continued, stronger and clearer than I had ever heard it. “I give ye my spirit- and all that I am, till our lives shall be done.”

Wisps of curls tickled my cheek but I could not move or look away from his face. His eyes pierced through me, a clear, deep blue stare filled with a weight I had never seen nor felt before. I took his other hand and kissed it, squeezing both hands gently as I tried to steady myself.

Two deep breaths.

I conjured the words I had played over in my head; words he had written on my heart, and that had danced on my tongue since we met.

“Jamie,” his name came out as a whisper. “Whatever lies ahead for us, I want you by my side- to turn to for comfort, for security, and most of all, I want to celebrate and live this life with you. I vow to keep the home we have found in each other, forever.”

His hands released from my grip, one finding my waist and pulling me closer to him, the other rested against the line of my cheek. His breath shook slightly as his lips met mine. He was warm and steady and I felt the fulfillment of every ache, need, wish, hope, and promise between us. His arms held me tight as the world around us fell away and all that existed was him and me.

When our lips parted, I felt his smile and I opened my eyes to see his hooded, a heady mix of awe and wonder staring back at me. He nodded slowly, placing a final kiss on my forehead before relaxing his hold on me, creating a breath of space between us.

“It’s only proper to toast after a vow, aye?” He tried for a wink as his hand traveled to his sporran, producing the familiar leather flask.

A giggle escaped my lips as I shook my head. “You bloody Scot. You’d do just about anything for a bit of whisky, aye?”

“Ye ken ye are marryin’ a lad who makes whisky for a livin’. Of course I am goin’ to take my CEBF where ever I go.”

I eyed him for a final moment, cocking my head to one side as I took a sip from the flask. I hummed in appreciation as the current of honey and almond filled my senses. I tipped the flask to Jamie and he took it, taking a long pull without breaking eye contact. I felt flush as a smile formed on his lips and I matched it.

My eyes lingered to the pin tucked into his tartan plaid just above his heart. “What’s this?”

“My clan-” he paused, a smile spreading across his face as he continued, “Our clan’s motto.”

“Je Suis Prest?” I asked.

“Aye,” his voice was barely audible. “I am ready.”

I could feel his eyes linger on me as he waited. I smiled as I lifted my eyes to meet his. “Yes, I am.”

His hands cupped my cheek as he brought my face to his. I felt the electricity pulse between us as my arms circled around his neck, holding him close.

We had bared our hearts to each other; our souls were fused with the promises spoken. To me, to us, this was our ceremony.

Jamie was my husband, and I was now his wife.

The rest of it, it was a celebration. I had what I wanted, what I needed. I was finally Claire Fraser.

Tomorrow would be the first day of our marriage, and that I intended to celebrate.

But tonight, in this moment, I filled every sense with the promise of Jamie and me. Together, we watched as the sun crested over the ridge, the colors faded around us as a soft glow encapsulated us. We held each other, a promise of a thousand tomorrows wrapped around us.

#IDEKYN fic #i don't even know your name fic #outlander #outlander fan fic #fan fic #this is the last one guys #except maybe an epilogue #ok thats happening #but still #curtain call #thank you EVERYONE for reading #is it really over #denial #beta notes for the WIN #tat is the queen of all things #and i owe my kidney #and maybe first born #to her greatness

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thorvaenn · 6 years

Note

Hi I hope this isn't a bother! I was scrolling through your fic rec posts and everything was so specific I was a tad overwhelmed cause I was hoping for a more General selection? So! I was wondering if you could recommend any favorite long/multi-chap thorki fics? I really need some more long fics to read and I am 100% okay with the fics being of any setting/rating, if that makes sense? Thank you so much if you get the chance to get around to this!!

Excellent thorki fics with 50k+ wordcount. Summaries under the cut because there’s a lot.

Number One Contender For My Heart by guardianinthesky

Dog inside the heart by thebookhunter

Facing the Vast by needleyecandy

The Unnamed Days by Clarice Chiara Sorcha

Wild Ambition Fortune’s Ice Prefers by amberfox17

Make It Go Away, Or Make It Better by rayemars

Shelter by Rynfinity

A Message Too Intimate for the Ear by Hermaline75

Side Projects by Laydee_Liesmith

Find a Home by Aria, filiabelialis

In the Grip of Grace by proantagonist

Wergeld by rayemars

Waiting for the Moon to Rise by cavaleira

You’re All I Want, so Bring Me the Dawn by thisdorkyficthing

shall we take a spin again (no witnesses) by miikkaa_xx

Fall at your feet by illwynd

…and all because of a joke in Student Housing by needleyecandy

Take the Long Way Home by cavaleira

A Poison that Never Stung by thisdorkyficthing

Cavemen Thor and Loki by Icemaidenstory

Mind-Forg’d Manacles by needleyecandy

Don’t Leave Me the Way I Am by glayish

Mad Man by griseldajane

God of Lies by izazov

These Idiots Are Going to Be Together Forever Because I Say So: Christmas Edition by thisdorkyficthing

Easily by proantagonist

Number One Contender For My Heart by guardianintheskyLoki has never been into sports, but one day Amora drags him to a pro wrestling event, promising him lots of hot, sweaty guys. He finds himself less than impressed until a particular wrestler named Thor shows up.

Dog inside the heart by thebookhunterThor and Loki are the children of a dynasty of great actors. Their mother Frigga is a grande dame of the stage and muse of the finest European movie directors, their father Odin is going down in history as the Lawrence Olivier of his time.Thor and Loki are following on their steps, with everything to prove, to themselves and to the world.But as they become dragged under the public eye, so does their past, full of secrets and lies.There are things that not even Thor can protect Loki from.

Facing the Vast by needleyecandyEngland has just declared war on Napoleon, Naval captains are winning their laurels on a daily basis, and Thor’s ship is ordered to the South Seas to seek out a lost scientific vessel. It is an assignment for an old man, but the Admiralty will hear no reason. All hope of glory lost, he takes to sea in a foul temper.Loki is an artist employed by the naturalist who accompanies HMS Hope on the expedition of rescue and research. He is to make quick and accurate sketches of those plants that catch his employer’s eye. For the first time in his life, the rest of his time is his own.

The Unnamed Days by Clarice Chiara SorchaFollowing the events of Thor: The Dark World, Jane opens her home to Thor in the hopes that now he will have time enough to at last come to terms with everything that has happened to him in the past two years.As it turns out, Loki has plans of his own for his erstwhile elder brother and the mortal astrophysicist.

Wild Ambition Fortune’s Ice Prefers by amberfox17When Thor went storming into Jotunheim he was looking to start a fight, but accidently winds up a pawn in Odin and Laufey’s plans for a permanent peace between the realms; namely, in exchange for the return of the Casket of Ancient Winters, Laufey is offering his firstborn child Loki, the Aesir-sized sorcerer, in marriage to Thor. Such a momentous decision is not to be taken lightly, so Odin sends Thor to live on Jotunheim - without Mjolnir - for a season with Loki, to get to know his prospective consort and to teach the wilful prince some diplomatic sense. Thor is horrified, his parents are insistent and no-one really knows what Loki is thinking, but he hasn’t stopped smiling…

Make It Go Away, Or Make It Better by rayemarsIt was a normal summer vacation until Thor spotted Loki in his bedroom when his cousin thought he was alone. Then it turned into something else completely; something that upends more than a few family secrets, and changes quite a few things for them both.

Shelter by Rynfinity“You really need to get a life, you know,” his editor tells him over coffee, when he loses track of himself and spends far too much time gushing over the splendid house and its amazing stonework. “Not only is it weird, it’s kind of like stalking. Don’t think I’m going to come bail you out of jail.”“No one stalks pools,” he tells her, laughing. He makes a mental note never to mention it again.

A Message Too Intimate for the Ear by Hermaline75Thor doesn’t mind being a trucker, but the long hours of empty highway can get a little lonely and using a voice modulator to pretend to be “Roxy” on a premium rate sex line does while away the time and boost his income.Until he gets a call from a young man named Loki and somehow ends up agreeing to meet him…Time to call in a favour from a friend.

Side Projects by Laydee_LiesmithIt’s summer-break and Loki’s dad has hired a team of contractors to work on their new house. New as in just-moved in; there’s nothing new about the old, rickety Victorian he’s forced them to move into. And Loki’s bitter—bitter about the move, not knowing anyone in this new town, and having to leave his few (but important) friends. But his father said they needed a fresh start and that was that, all of Loki’s protests falling on deaf ears.Now, Loki tries to ignore the team of workers who have taken over his back-yard as they embark on a much-needed reno project. But, the one with the long blonde hair and the boming voice has taken a special liking to him. He flirts, he winks; he goes out of his way to tease Loki. Loki finds himself spending more time talking to “Thor” than he would like. He also finds himself blushing around Thor more than he would like. One day, Thor stumbles across Loki doing something he really shouldn’t be… and suddenly Thor has decided to make Loki his after-work “project.”

Find a Home by Aria, filiabelialisLoki lets his head fall back, a despairing smile baring his teeth. “What do you mean by home?”

In the Grip of Grace by proantagonistWhen Loki learns the truth of his heritage, he quietly leaves Asgard behind. The search for the lost prince continues for nearly a year until Odin hires a professional tracker to find him, sending Thor along on the hunt to ensure Loki’s safe return. They locate him on Midgard, living on his own in a run down apartment—depressed, weakened, and trying very hard to disappear.

Wergeld by rayemarsIt was springtime, and Thor had taken his men war-faring to seek goods for themselves; but raiding a foreign temple brought him far more than he’d ever imagined–in either goods or trouble.

Waiting for the Moon to Rise by cavaleiraAs the newly crowned king of Asgard, Thor’s life is filled with stress as he as he navigates political intrigue and struggles to figure out what kind of king he wants to be. Desperately in need of a night of relaxation, he finds himself at a brothel he used to frequent in his youth. It’s there that Thor spends an evening in the arms of beautiful courtesan named Loki, and his whole world changes in ways he never could have imagined.

You’re All I Want, so Bring Me the Dawn by thisdorkyficthing Loki grew up being told that the bond between an omega and an alpha was unbreakable.Well, that’s a lie. A big fat lie.

shall we take a spin again (no witnesses) by miikkaa_xxWhen Thor is need of money to help a friend, he turns to a less-than-legal source. However, what should have been a simple borrow-and-pay-back arrangement gets turned upside down when loanshark!Loki decides he wants something more than simply money in return.In only a matter of days, Loki draws Thor into a dark, violent underworld, and it soon becomes clear that he has no intention of letting go.

Fall at your feet by illwyndWhen Thor confronts the Destroyer, offering himself up for the sake of the humans, Loki has a better idea: he won’t take Thor’s life. He’ll take him back to Asgard, as a mortal, with a promise to serve Loki and obey him completely. Thor, eager to heal the rift between them, is only too happy to agree. But he has no idea how damaged his brother truly is or what he really wants from him—and when he finds out, everything between them is going to change.

…and all because of a joke in Student Housing by needleyecandyThor and Loki are total opposites, stuck rooming together because someone in Student Housing thought it would be cute to place them together because they shared a birthday. They’re pleasantly surprised to find that they actually get along.The surprise when they fall in love is even more pleasant.

Take the Long Way Home by cavaleiraThor strikes a deal with Loki: each month, he will trade half of his golden apple for one day spent together in a temporary truce. Both brothers find themselves getting more than they bargained for.

A Poison that Never Stung by thisdorkyficthing Loki is a seventeen year old runaway that gets taken in by Thor. (Thor’s probably gonna regret it)

Cavemen Thor and Loki by IcemaidenstoryPrompt:Yes, I want a prehistoric AU with those two. I mean living in caves, having a simpler speech, stone tools, fleas, etc.Thor’s tribe destroys another tribe because they couldn’t agree about their territories. Loki, a son of the leader of that tribe, survives, but he gets captured and enslaved.People of Thor’s tribe dislike Loki, who’s scared and all alone among them; he’s an alien to them. But very soon Thor becomes possessive and protective of him (also, he claims him). And those who challenge his choices get roared at and also get a stone hammer to their heads. He’s their leader and he won’t tolerate his decisions being questioned (I don’t mind if Odin is in the story, but he’s no longer a leader, because he’s too old).

Mind-Forg’d Manacles by needleyecandyThe Roman Republic demands new lands, and the army, led by Caesar, is eager for glory. It is customary for them to take slaves from newly conquered peoples, which is how Loki, a Celt, and Thor, a German, find themselves torn away from everything they’ve known and loved.As slaves of Rome, the two boys respond to their captivity in strikingly different ways. As free men, their old ways of surviving become fetters.When they find each other, freedom finally begins.

Don’t Leave Me the Way I Am by glayishHe wished he could use Mjölnir as a blacksmith would, hammer himself out until he was shining and straight.

Mad Man by griseldajaneWhen Loki discovers that Thor has seemingly vanished from the nine realms, he uses all the tricks at his disposal to find his missing brother, including teaming up with the Avengers.In the meantime, Thor is pushed past his breaking point and may have forever lost his way.A story about love, obsession and the mysteries of the heart and mind.

God of Lies by izazovThere are lines no one in Asgard should cross. Not even Asgard’s two princes.

These Idiots Are Going to Be Together Forever Because I Say So: Christmas Edition by thisdorkyficthing“I know the divorce has been hard on you - it’s been hard on everyone - but you two need to stop acting like the other doesn’t exist when you’re in the same room because you’re breaking that poor girl’s heart. Alyssa and Riley are just so used to it they don’t even notice - or maybe they’re just able to ignore it - but it isn’t healthy.“Thor resisted the urge to fidget, his mouth still hanging open. Frigga took a deep breath, looking down for a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose."I know you guys have both been trying. But you have to try harder now."Thor slumped back, leaning on to the edge of the counter. "I… don’t know if I can."Frigga crossed her arms, lips taut. "That’s not the correct answer.”

Easily by proantagonistIt’s not until Jane dies that Loki finally comes to Thor.

#thorki #thorkiedit #fic rec post #rec:au #rec:canon #rec:human au #rec:jotun au #rec:smut #rec:dark world #Anonymous #dunaasks #rec:long

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bloomsoftly · 7 years

Text

in the shadow of your heart

a thank you fic for @ragwitch. ❤️❤️❤️

pairing: darcy/bucky (wintershock) rating: t warning: implied torture (nothing graphic)

(thanks, bb, for beta’ing your own thank you fic. 😳 also this plot bunny turned into an outline for a full-length fic, if anyone is interested.)

There was snow falling all around her—the mountains were covered in it—and she was unbearably, bone-shakingly cold. The rocking motion of the train, back and forth, back and forth, made her uneasy. A screech of metal deafened her ears, reverberating down her spine, and as she turned toward the noise—that sound was never good—a blaring horn from behind knocked Darcy off her feet. Without any time to react, she was tipped over the edge.

Falling, falling—the winter air was whipping around her ears, cold and sharp, and she knew she was falling to her death. The wind howled in triumph, carrying her deeper and deeper into the abyss. It was almost a relief, after everything.

She heard a man’s voice, calling out a name. Not her name, but something else. She strained to hear, but the wind was too loud, he was so far away.

He said it again, and she strained—

“Darcy!”

No, that wasn't right. That's not what she wanted to know—

“Darcy!” Her whole body shook, and she wasn't falling anymore. She was—

Blinking out the window of the train from Edinburgh to London, Jane a worried mess at her side.

“Damn it, Darce, you scared me. What the hell did you see?”

Darcy tipped sideways, pressing her cool and clammy forehead against the window.

“Jane,” she moaned. “Janie, I don't think I can take trains anymore.”

Her friend, used to these episodes by now, rubbed gentle circles into Darcy’s back and hummed her agreement.

The younger woman took deep, even breaths to steady the nausea in her stomach. Each measured exhale imprinted a circle of fog on the window. She stared, mesmerized, and couldn't shake the sense that she'd been on the verge of discovering something important.

(read more link here)

-:-

When she was eight, she dreamt of the apocalypse for the first time. Darcy had been working on her vocabulary homework, browsing the dictionary for words that started with the letter ‘a’. She’d been scrolling down the page, a bored finger tracing words at random, when she saw one she’d never seen before. As her fingers followed its curves and angles, the world tilted sideways. Her vision was filled with grotesque creatures spilling out of a hole in the sky, of strange whales that swam through the air, twisting and turning through a mass of half-destroyed buildings.

The heavy book fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, thumping against the carpet. Normally the noise would’ve had her eyes darting toward her bedroom door out of fear, but instead all she could focus on were the words seared across her brain.

Apocalypse ...noun ... an imminent cosmic cataclysm in which God destroys the ruling powers of evil and raises the righteous to life ... something viewed as a prophetic revelation; armageddon... a great disaster...

Shaking with fear, she dove under the covers and whispered reassurances to herself, half out of her mind with panic. She laid there, trying to convince herself that it had been some kind of crazy, waking dream. Just an expression of grief, her foster mom would’ve said disdainfully. Another flight of fancy from the stupid, silly girl. But she could still taste the dust caking the back of her throat, and her ears were still ringing from the shrill sounds of the sirens, and she couldn’t shake off the certainty that she’d seen an image of the future. Some terrible event that she desperately hoped would never come to pass.

She didn’t finish her homework that night. The punishment from her new ‘parents’ was severe, as it always was, and soon her fantasies of escaping the foster home eclipsed everything else, even dreams of the apocalypse. For a few years, at least.

-:-

She began dreaming of soft eyes in a careworn face, tired lines and a gentle touch. On good nights—nights when her dreams were left untouched by nightmares—she was wrapped in firm arms with a hard body stretched out along her back.

As long as she didn’t open her eyes, she could feel his even breathing, basking in the way it stirred the hair at the nape of her neck. Each morning, she woke up happy and warm and well-rested.

Only for it all to go abruptly cold as soon as she opened her eyes.

-:-

Once she was old enough to escape the horror that had been her life in the foster care system, the dreams came back.

They started out small, pleasant. The feel of warm sunshine on her skin, the desert breeze as it ruffled her hair. The feeling of sweat trickling down her temple after a long day of honest work, the sting of salt on her dry lips and the burn of alcohol as it slid down her throat.

She started college with the strange experience of knowing exactly what tequila tasted like, even though she’d never actually tried it. Thunderstorms followed her into her dreams, the clap of thunder and the strike of lightning oddly soothing to her for years.

When she met Jane Foster—the best mistake she’d ever made, forgetting about those science credits—the hair at the back of her neck stood up straight, and the faintest hint of scorched ozone hit her nostrils.

“I know you’re a political science major, Darcy, and I should give you a harder time about why you want the internship. But to be perfectly blunt, you were the only applicant. So…when can you be ready to head out to New Mexico?”

Darcy grinned and tried not to feel as though she was being guided by fate. Clearly, she was meant to go to New Mexico.

At first, everything was fine.

Then the nightmares started. Some nights she’d wake up cold and shaken, frozen and numb even through layers of blankets and sweatshirts. With the chill of fear and despair lingering along her spine, she stared out into the pitch black of the desert and played it off as acclimation jitters. They didn’t stop for months.

Sometimes, she woke up screaming with fire in her throat. On one of those nights, she’d fallen asleep at the lab table as Jane plunked away at the data until well past two o’clock in the morning. She hadn’t known how to tell her boss about her dreams, even knowing she should (she’d lost so many roommates over the years the school had given Darcy her own room), and Jane was completely unprepared for the nightmare.

“Darcy! Darcy, wake up!” Her boss’s wide-eyed panic was the first thing she saw, ducking out of the way of her instinctual swing.

With a blink, Darcy realized where she was. One beat of her heart, then two, and she could breathe again.

“What the hell was that?”

“A nightmare,” she answered, her voice raspy and raw.

“That was not just a nightmare.” Jane’s voice was hard, and her stare was probing. Suddenly, Darcy remembered that her boss was deeply driven to uncover all of the universe’s secrets. Watching as her intern’s expression went unsettlingly blank, the astrophysicist changed tack.

“Everything’s okay, Darce. We’re safe here. What were you dreaming about?”

The reds and oranges still burned in her mind’s eye, and without thinking Darcy answered with the truth.

“Fire. Fire and heat. A furnace, burning hotter than anything I’ve ever felt. The screech of metal on pavement, of shattering glass, the sound of people screaming.” Her voice was eerie and smooth as she spoke, like she was an observer in her own body. Jane’s brow furrowed at the change, and Darcy hurriedly pushed away the visions.

“Just a stupid dream.” When Jane looked unconvinced, she added, “Really. I probably shouldn’t fall asleep in the lab anymore, huh? I was clearly missing my bed.”

With pursed lips and distant eyes, Jane let it go. Darcy could tell she was suspicious, but there was nothing the young woman could do to distract her. Jane was more tenacious than a terrier.

Then Thor showed up, distracting Jane better than Darcy ever could. To be honest, Darcy was pretty distracted herself, what with the abs and the L’oreal hair, and the name stolen straight from Norse mythology.

It wasn’t until after the Destroyer had terrorized the town, and Thor had gone too—with a whispered ‘Be brave, little sister’ that made no sense at all—that Jane made the connection.

“You—” she growled, pointing a shaking finger in Darcy’s direction, still wrung out from Thor’s kiss and his abrupt goodbye, “have some serious explaining to do, Darcy.”

-:-

Jane let Darcy’s intuition guide their career decisions. They visited New York the spring after meeting Thor, for some astrophysics conference that was being held in Manhattan.

Right before the conference was due to start, Darcy had her vision of space monsters and the hole in the sky. Smack dab in the middle of the street, with tourists and New Yorkers alike streaming around the inconvenient obstacle she made on the sidewalk. With some difficulty, Jane dragged her up to the hotel room.

She shook for hours, locked in the horror of her vision of the future. When she gathered her shit enough to tell Jane what she saw, they hopped on the next plane out of the city.

SHIELD came to collect them, but they were nowhere to be found.

-:-

When their train reached London, Darcy resolved to research what she could remember of her vision and hunt for more clues. After the Destroyer, after the Battle of New York, she knew better than to sit around and ignore her nightmares. Even if this one had felt different, she was worried about what might happen if she failed to heed its warnings.

Of course, that's when Jane's doodad went haywire, the convergence happened, and Dark Elves zapped in from another realm and tried to kill everyone. Plus, Jane got possessed by a goddamned infinity stone (where was her warning vision for that, she wanted to know). And Thor came back.

In the long list of catastrophes, only Thor’s return was even remotely pleasant. Though, she was highly tempted to tase him again. For Jane's sake.

After their long, overdue reunion—Darcy had to buy earplugs, they were so enthusiastic—Thor pulled Darcy aside.

“You are wearing yourself too thin, soothsayer.”

She turned the word over in her brain; it sounded a lot better than freak. Thor stared at her, waiting, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I mean. Aliens just dropped out of the sky and tried to kill everyone, Thor. I'm a little in the tired side.” He waited for her to finish, as patient as, well, only a centuries-old demigod could be.

“No, little sister. You must focus your efforts on finding your anchor.”

What?

-:-

She was always alone.

The nights she dreamt of her anchor were bliss, but the mornings were hell. She dreaded waking up, so badly that she avoided going to sleep altogether. Her eyes looked bruised and tired with the weight of her insomnia and stolen joy, and she started to lose weight. Even Jane noticed, her absent glances from before turning to mother henning, vibrating in Darcy's orbit with worry.

The dreams wouldn't be denied, though. She began to have them even when she was awake—the ghost of a breath across her ear, the echo of a chuckle across her cheek. The faint nip of a bite against her collarbone, so real she had to stifle a moan in the middle of the lab.

One day, it was all too much. She'd fallen asleep the night before, too exhausted to fight the urge, and had woken up wrapped in her false lover’s arms. Except he hadn't been there when she'd woken up—he never was, because he wasn't real. She broke down into gut-wrenching sobs, aching for the loss of something she'd never even had, driven mad by a ghost lover who had never even existed.

It was so bad that Jane was forced to sedate her.

When she woke up, Jane's arms were around her, not the right size or weight but anchoring her to reality nonetheless. Thor held her hands in his, eyes filled with solemn remorse.

“I have been remiss, little sister, and I only hope you can forgive me. It falls to me to explain the nature of your kind, and I have failed you by not doing so before now.”

Her kind.

Her kind. She had a kind. The thought filled her with warmth.

-:-

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The words echoed through her brain for months, so often that it started to drive Darcy mad. Not that she knew what to do with them. She didn't recognize the voices or the name, and there weren't any visions that went along with it.

Until she woke up gasping, one morning, with the image of icy blue eyes and a glinting metal arm flashing behind her eyelids. She knew that face, even half-hidden with the atrocious muzzle thing that she wanted to rip away from him. She wanted to tear into everyone who'd ever hurt him (she didn't know how she knew, but she was certain it was a long list). Darcy had never seen him before, but she knew him.

Something told her that he was her Anchor—the one Thor had referred to, months ago. And now she was having dreams of him, clad in black and murderous, fighting against Captain America himself.

With only that knowledge in hand, Darcy did what any sane woman would do: she went on the hunt for Steve Rogers.

(She didn't tell Jane, couldn't tell Jane. There was something that screamed at her for even thinking of it, and she'd long ago learned to trust her instincts. Her friend thought she was taking a sabbatical, instead.)

On the way back to the States, Darcy dove into her research. The secret to the man in black could only be unraveled by the question that still echoed through her brain:

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

-:-

She found Steve Rogers in the cheesiest place a superhero named Captain America could be: the National Mall. The troll was running laps around a poor, beleaguered man who was clearly trying to run in peace. Part of her wanted to offer the hapless captain some advice on flirting, but she couldn't afford to get distracted.

Deciding it was best to allow them to bond, she watched from a distance as they chatted and got to know each other. A prickle at the back of her neck—actually helpful in the real world, for once—informed her that she was about to miss her opportunity. Not knowing what else to do, she stepped directly into his personal space. His words skidded to a halt immediately, mind clearly whirring as he assessed whether she was a threat. Satisfied that she had his attention, she took a step back but held his gaze boldly.

“Captain Rogers.”

“I'm sorry, I don't really have time right now for—” His words were polite, but his tone was annoyed. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, and she wondered whether anyone had given him a single moment to rest.

“I'm not a fan.” As his eyes widened, she amended, “I mean, I'm not not a fan. I'm just…not here for your signature or whatever it is that fans of yours ask for.”

“In that case, I really don't have time. Apologies.” He started to turn away, but she took that step forward again, intercepting him. She knew he could bowl her over in a hot second if he wanted to, but she was counting on his chivalric nature. It was a close call, judging by the ticking of his jaw, but he refrained from physically pushing her aside.

“Look, Miss—”

“Steve, is everything alright?” It was the handsome man from before, the running companion with a charming grin and easy manner. He had stopped pretending not to eavesdrop from the captain’s other side, and wasn't looking all that casual now.

Darcy knew she'd run out of time.

“Listen, Captain, I know you don't know me or have any reason to trust me and I don't blame you. But your friend Bucky—”

Captain Rogers’ eyes widened, but she was interrupted yet again, this time by a purr of an engine as the red-headed Avenger pulled up to the curve. The woman rolled down the window, and Darcy knew that she was losing him.

“Bucky is the Winter Soldier,” she hissed, forgetting that the man had no reason to know who that was.

“He's the what? Nevermind, I really have to go. Bucky Barnes died in 1943, Miss. Everyone knows that.” With that final bitter statement, he slid into the car and they went roaring off down the street.

Unable to face the literal disappearance of her only hope at finding the man who haunted her dreams, Darcy closed her eyes and tried not to cry. Tears pressed against the edges of her eyelids, hot and stinging.

“Hey, uh, you okay? Is there…someone I can call for you?”

He had a therapist’s voice, the captain’s friend slash companion. She laughed at the implication hidden in his words.

“Thanks, dude. But I'm not crazy.” He offered a falsely supportive grin, and she knew he didn't believe her. “Really. You're friends with him, right?”

“Not really. We just met.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke, shutting her out. But all she needed was one little in.

“He's gonna come find you again. He needs you.” The words rang true as they escaped her tongue, and the man stood up a little straighter. “Things are about to get really bad for him. The shock of a lifetime, even for a man who was frozen in ice for seventy years.”

He straightened up, grinning sliding off his face as he pulled himself up to his full height. He towered over her, and she tried not to shiver.

“And how do you know that? What are you saying—?”

“I've said too much already. But please—when the shit hits the fan, will you give him my number? In case he wants to talk.” He hesitated, so she wheedled, “What could it hurt? If nothing happens, he doesn't even need to know that you had it.”

He shrugged, accepting her logic, so she reached into her pocket. His eyes zoned in on her motion with alarm, and she slowly withdrew the strip of paper. It had nothing but a phone number scrawled in her handwriting. A prepaid burner phone, because she wasn't an idiot.

“Thanks.”

“Now you hold on a second,” he said, reaching out to stop her from slipping away. Her eyes widened in alarm—this wasn't part of the plan—and she dodged his reach.

Thankfully for her, a noisy bus of school children disembarked not twenty feet away from their position. The sudden influx of kids screaming in excitement drew his attention. By the time he turned back around, she'd already slipped away.

-:-

Captain Rogers did call her, she found out later. After the assassination of Director Fury, when Agent Romanov told him about the bogeyman of the intelligence world. As soon as she'd said the words “winter soldier,” he'd thought of the strange woman in the park.

Faithful Sam had held onto her number, and Steve tried to call her at some point between getting marked as a fugitive and warring with his best friend on a busy freeway.

She didn't answer, of course.

By then, she'd already been taken.

A small part of his brain had wondered, vaguely worried about her welfare, but then he'd been called upon to save the world yet again, and she'd fallen through the cracks.

She was used to that.

-:-

She didn't think it was supposed to work like this, him anchoring her even though they'd never even met.

But as the scientists poked and prodded at her, taking her blood and other tests she didn't want to think about, the memory of him held her steady.

Her gift, as Thor had called it, stopped showing her visions of the future. Perhaps because it was too bleak, and she'd lose all her remaining will to live. Instead, she saw the past.

She saw Bucky’s past: his friendship with Steve, their lives growing up in Brooklyn. It came in snippets: the heat of the paved streets in the summer, the way Steve would sway as he picked a fight with someone twice his size.

It kept her going, the urge to reconcile the images with a set of sad eyes and a weary heart, the arms that once could've held her at night.

Hope burned away before rage did, and eventually the dreams left her too. But though she'd long lost the hope that he'd come for her, fury kept her alive.

She was very good at doing things out of spite.

-:-

Darcy got lost in her own mind, her only solace that Hydra couldn't seem to figure out what was so different about her. They knew something, clearly, else she suspected she would have been dead long ago. But her ability never manifested itself during her captivity, and they were left forever guessing.

Still, she was poked and prodded and harassed for hours on end, for days. It was too much for her mind to bear, and she escaped within herself to cope. She dreamt of Jane, of the desert, warm fires and thick blankets.

She dreamt of her anchor: nothing she hadn't thought of before, and everything seemed so distant now. She no longer felt the brush of his fingers through her hair or along her spine, and her body ached with the loss. Instead, she saw his eyes. Sometimes bright and lively, mischievous and playful—sometimes dark and brooding and filled with terrible pain.

Her haven was so deep that it took hours for her to realize that the blaring alarms weren't just the soundtrack to her dreams of the lab. Jane hadn't forgotten to change the fire alarm; instead, hell was being rained down upon her captors.

By the time she dragged herself up and out of her self-imposed mental prison, the building had fallen silent again. She blinked gummy eyes—her tears had all dried up ages ago, and her sweat laid dry and clammy on her skin—and realized that her ever-present torturers had disappeared.

No, there they were, sprawled across the floor. Their white coats were soaked red.

A scuff of a boot on the floor drew her attention away, until she was face to face with—

Darcy blinked. Surely, after all this time she was hallucinating.

But there he was, no longer wearing the muzzle but eyes as aching and angry as ever. And he was pointing a gun at her.

She blinked again.

“You,” he growled, his voice harsh and rough with disuse. “It's you.”

She licked her lips, but her threat was raw from endless screaming, and she couldn't speak.

“You've been haunting me.” He sounded almost as desperate as she felt. Her head spun; it wasn't supposed to be like this. Thor hadn't said anything about her anchor dreaming too. “Why are you haunting me?” he demanded.

She shook in her restraints, trembling with the need to be free. His eyes dropped to her hospital gown, the bloodstains at the hem and the gauze at her elbow, and all the wariness bled away.

“Jesus. What did they do to you?” In two strides, he was at her side and reaching for the straps that held her down.

In no time at all, she was free and tumbling over the edge into his arms.

He held her tight, and they sank to the floor.

“Shh,” he murmured against her hair. His hands swept down her back with smooth strokes, sure and steady, like a muscle memory he'd never managed to shake. “Shh, I've got you.”

His breath ghosted against her hair as he spoke. Not ghost-like, anymore. He was real, and he was there.

Darcy began to sob in earnest, and he gripped her tighter.

It felt as good as she'd ever imagined.

#wintershock #darcy x bucky #darcyland #queenie and bloom forever #thank you fic

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bughead-fic-request · 7 years

Text

I would like to thank @leaalda for making these amazing banners.

This is an effort to spread the word about all fan fiction writers in our little fandom. If you would like to be featured or nominate a writer, please contact me. Please reblog this post if you can and check out some of @believe-that-you-can-my-friend work!

1. First things first, if someone wanted to read your stories where can they find them.

My tumblr account is believe-that-you-can-my-friend and anyone can find my masterlist by clicking on the menu button (the three parallel lines at the top of my sidebar) and then choosing “My Bughead Stories”. You can also find me on AO3.

2. Tell us a little about yourself.

I’m Vera, I’m from Greece and I’m currently on the 23rd decade of my life. I’m a Classical Studies graduate and I’m considering doing a Master’s too. I’m a major foodie, a fashion and style enthusiast, an avid dancer and an old school rock lover. A quite sarcastic human being trying to make it in this world with the attitude of your average clown-friend.

3. What do you never leave home without?

Probably my phone, as true to our 21st century standards. Plus, my headphones and my sunglasses.

4. Are you an early bird or a night owl?

I’m a night owl for sure. I hate early mornings and I love sleep but I also can never go to bed before 2 or 3 am.

5. If you could live in any fictional world which one would you choose and why?

I would want to live in the Pokémon world or the Harry Potter universe but during the Marauders era. Witty and utterly smitten James Potter, rebel with a cause Sirius Black, the First Wizarding War, this is a true fantasy right there that I’ll never ever outgrow.

6. Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met?

There are a lot of Greek people that you guys, obviously, won’t know. Not many international celebrities in my resume, I’m afraid. But I briefly chatted and took a picture with Jim Chapman from YouTube while I was visiting London two years ago.

7. What are some of your favorite movies/TV?

I enjoy a lot of different movie genres but I guess an old Hollywood one, some good old Hitchcock or anything drama are my typical choices most times. Out of the top of my head, definitely Gone with The Wind, Casablanca, Pulp Fiction, The Breakfast Club and such. As for TV shows, Lost is always first in my heart. Current favorites would be Sense8, Stranger Things, Westworld, Riverdale.

8. What are some of your favorite bands/musicians?

That’s a question that would take me pages to answer. Long story short, I’m a cultural chaos regarding music. I listen to almost everything, my Spotify has a tone of personal playlists and my vinyl collection is reaching a terrifying extend. My favorite genre is definitely classic rock but I also really love alternative rock, indie rock, and rock ‘n’ roll. On an average day, I’m usually blasting something along the lines of The 1975, then Pink Floyd, then Frank Sinatra, then Tchaikovsky, then Kanye West, then The Killers and so on and it’s a miracle that I still manage to stay a somewhat sane person.

9. Favorite Books?

Anything Jane Austen, Bronte Sisters or Dostoyevsky can get me going. But for the level of angst and devotion and truly wicked love my favorite one is Wuthering Heights.

10. Favorite Food?

Chicken curry with rice. I also really love shrimps.

11. Biggest pet peeve?

Probably people that chew very loudly. Or ignorant and uneducated people, not in the academic sense of the word, but ill-mannered and rude.

12. What did you want to be when you were little? What do you want to be now?

For many years I wanted to be an architect. This plan though sunk because my sketching skills are equivalent of a two year old. So, I ended up studying the Classics (basically the study of the Greco-Roman world, particularly of its languages and literature, but also including philosophy, history, and archaeology.) This field and area of studies is something I very much enjoy and value but I don’t really see it as my lifetime job. What fascinates me and makes me passionate about is Journalism so I’m thinking about extending my studies in the journalistic field as well. And then of course there is writing; the ultimate dream.

13. What are your biggest fears? Do you have any strange fears?

I’m scared of wasps, only because I’m allergic to a lot of things and, seriously, I don’t wanna push my luck. Another one would be my odd phobia of getting nauseous and being sick. For some weird reason I associate vomiting with death. Other strange fears, no, nothing comes to mind. As for more fundamental ones, it’s the fear of ending up alone; loneliness is something that scares me deeply. Also, disappointing my inner perfectionist by being average or not good enough at any aspect of my life.

14. When you are on your deathbed what would be the one you’d regret not doing?

Live more. I have a very composed and rational mentality, I always think first and then act and generally I’m more of an observer than a doer. I regret, for example, not being a crazier teenager or a more reckless college student or generally a little bit more “loose”. Hopefully, my introverted self will stop watching stoically life passing her by and take more chances by the time I reach that final moment, haha.

Okay… let’s talk about your writing!

15. Which is your favorite of the fics you've written for the Bughead fandom?

Where The Wild Roses Grow – Angst is the air I breathe, enough said.

16. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?

Up until now I used to write only Bughead prompts and one-shots so, plot wise, I can’t think of any of them causing me too much headache. I could say Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams, only because of the length of the chapters and the hurricane of ideas I had in my mind. Right now I’m trying my hand at my first multi-chaptered fic for the Bughead fandom and I can definitely say that it is proving to be quite the task in terms of planning and prioritizing.

17. How do you come up with the ideas for you fic(s)? Do you people watch? Listen to music? Get inspired by TV/movies?

For me, it’s mostly TV and movies. I always make parallels between plotlines and couples so a lot of ideas do come from stuff that I have seen on the big screen or during a marathon of an old show. But they also come from everyday life, I mean I could be discussing something with my best friend or doing groceries or driving and something along the way would strike me and demand from me to write it on paper.

18. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?

I really really wanted (and still want, to be honest) to write a Dancing With The Stars Bughead fic. I know it’s crazy and totally random but the idea had stuck in my head while I was watching some dancing videos on YouTube and instantly I had everything planned; the roles, the plot, the dancing sessions, the choreographies, the drama, everything. I gave up on the idea merely because it’s quite difficult to portray such show on paper and I was afraid that the scenes in my head would turn out totally different if I attempted to write them, so I’ll treasure this story in my heart and think fondly about it whenever I listen to a song I had picked for a Bughead dance-off. But you never know; maybe my muse will be more confident about helping me give life to this idea in the future.

19. Least favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

I wouldn’t say it’s my least favorite but I don’t feel very confident about Heliophilia, the second chapter of Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams. There are a lot of things that I like in the chapter obviously, but I find the beginning a tad cheesy and then at the part with Betty’s and Jughead’s date I believe that I just ramble on and on with no purpose whatsoever. I was very inspiration-deprived while working on that chapter so, to me at least, it feels like not my best work.

20. Favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

Jughead raised as a Serpent in my latest fic. I like the dynamic the gang element gives to his character and I really wanted to explore it in my own little universe. It just adds another layer to his personality and diverse characters are always the most fun to work with. Also, #GirlNextDoor was very fun to write. Being in Jughead’s shoes as an accomplished writer and envisioning future Bughead in their own adult apartment had me overwhelmed with lovely feelings.

21. Favorite character to write?

Jughead, for sure. Maybe because I relate more to his quite nature or maybe it’s the fact that I appreciate the writer in him and his old soul, which are again qualities that I have too as a person. He has so much potential as a character, so many layers to peel off. Yeah, Jughead Jones is a delight for me to write.

22. Favorite line or lines of dialogue that you've written?

I don’t think I have something specific in mind. If I go back and read any of my stories, I always find something that I feel pretty confident about, either that’s a sentence or a whole paragraph. I guess that’s why it takes me so long to update; I always check and double-check and reread and erase and add until I feel positive that what I’m putting out is something I’m quite satisfied to present to all of you. That and the fact that me, a Victor Hugo wannabe, doesn’t know the usage and the importance of a full stop!

23. Best comment/review you’ve ever received?

Every single one. Literally. The fact that somebody takes the time to write even a single “great work” means the world. Yes, the long, commentary-like reviews are always an extra delight; every author would agree on that, because, we love receiving feedback that shows the emotion and the reaction our words brought to each reader. It’s very direct and on-point. But even just a thumb’s up or an incoherent array of vowels can literally make my day!

24. How do you handle bad reviews or comments?

I’m one of the fortunate ones that never got any bad reviews or hate comments. I hope it stays that way because, on a good day, my confidence as a writer (and as a person in general) is beneath zero! But constructive criticism is always welcomed and wanted.

25. If you could change anything in any of your stories, what would it be?

The occasional typos! They drive me nuts, I hate them and I hate myself for them. Also, I’d like to remind myself to put a damn full stop every once in a while, not only a plethora of commas in insanely long sentences!

26. What is your favorite story you’ve ever written? Any fandom?

I was very into Spaleb (Spencer and Caleb from Pretty Little Liars) for as much as it lasted and, amongst a few other stories, I’ve written an one-shot titled The First Cup of Coffee about the four times Spencer gets the first cup of coffee in the morning and a fifth that she realizes she wants Caleb to have that privilege. Basically, it’s five snapshots of their life together and the growth of their relationship through the years and I really enjoyed writing it and generally envisioning a future about that couple. I also had a great time writing about Klaus and Caroline from The Vampire Diaries. But none of my previous fanfiction experiences amounts to the utter excitement and joy writing for Bughead fills me with.

27. What are you reading right now? Both fan fiction and general fiction?

Fanfiction wise, I need a lot of catching up to do. I have so many fics that I either want to continue or start reading and so little time but I’m getting there. It’s personal at this point! As for general fiction, I’m reading Uncle Vanya by Chekhov and some various poetry.

28. Do you have an advice for writers that want to get into this fandom but might be scared?

Just write. Open a plain document and write. Write whatever you have in that brilliant head of yours, write what you would read if you were about to search between genres and plotlines. Don’t think about note numbers or people’s reaction; just write what your heart desires and your muse urges you too. If you enjoy what you write then, trust me, everyone is going to enjoy it too. Don’t doubt yourself and don’t try to change your style or adjust to any norms you might consider as successful. Writing is personal, a kind of identity, and it’s unique and mesmerizing so proudly present your own identity to the world. Also, be sure to support your fellow writers. We are all a team here, a group of people that enjoy the same passion, and love and recognition is always a must. So applaud your fellow Buggies and applaud yourself for everything that you put out in this fandom, either that is a 40k fic or just a fifty-word paragraph. What you write matters and it might change somebody’s day. So share it and never second-guess yourself.

#bughead author spotlight #fan fiction #fan fiction writers #ao3 #Bughead #bughead fanfiction #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty x jughead #jughead x betty #riverdale #believe that you can my friend #where the wild roses grow #fruit punch lips and leather jacket dreams

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sylvieons · 7 years

Text

Fandom meme tagged by @nyx4 and @cleoselene xoxo which took me 90 years to finish but it’s HARD OKAY thinking is hard

A: Your current OTP. Jace/Alec from Shadowhunters. Apparently this makes me problematic but I don't care

B: A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind. This is hard because if I started watching a show because of someone they typically told me their ship ahead of time and then I was looking for it. So I guess the closest I can come up with is that I lowkey ship Sephiroth/Genesis from Final Fantasy because of @nyx4 but I've never played the game

C: A pairing you wish you shipped, but just can't. Arthur/Merlin from Merlin. Everyone always went so over the top with Merthur, and I shipped it for a few seconds but I never really liked Arthur so it was hard to care.

D: What was the first thing you ever contributed to a fandom? An X-Files fanfic uploaded to Gossamer titled, embarrassingly enough, "My Immortal" to which I attached my real name. I was 14 or 15 and therefore very stupid. (I have since had this and another removed from the site, thankfully). I also handed this fic into my English teacher to read. Even more embarrassing. The plot? Mulder loved Scully but he wanted to make sure that she loved him so he tried to make her jealous and when she did act jealous he was like "lol jk" and then I went into a lot of detail on a kiss they shared (THAT MY ENGLISH TEACHER READ) and then they got engaged and then they both got shot outside of Mulder's apartment for WHATEVER REASON and died. Hence "My Immortal", because they'll be together in death.

E: Have you added anything stupid/cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what? Yes, and I shall find the post I made on Livejournal so I can bring you direct to the source. It was for Legend of the Seeker, and I got the idea to Photoshop a fake Facebook post based on an episode (I forgot where I got the idea, if I saw it in another fandom or what). Anyway the result was this:

https://imgur.com/Zo5Bi6x

It spun of control and spawned an actual Facebook RP which is where I met the two people who tagged me in this and AIN'T LIFE REALLY CRAZY SOMETIMES???

F: What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom? What fandom was it? The X-Files. I got into it when I was around 11 or 12 and was a pretty active member until I was 17 or 18. Which doesn't seem very long, but to be heavily into it, I feel it was. And then I came back around to it when the revival was announced, so it's been an on and off relationship.

G: What was your first fandom? The X-Files, probably, in terms of content-creating. Maybe if I'm counting things like "I pretended I was Xena a lot and I would call my friend on the phone and we’d talk about Xena" then maybe Xena: Warrior Princess

H: Do you prefer real-life TV shows or animated TV shows? Real-life, hands down. I hate animation.

I: Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why? Lol what -hasn't- Tumblr caused me to hate? Tho...you know what...I've never said it on this hellsite for fear of reprisal, but I'm going to do it. Tumblr turned me off Sansa Stark back in season 2 or so. There was so many posts where people were so aggressive about unfollowing and hating people who didn't like Sansa and it got so irritating I started to dislike Sansa by association. So congrats, Tumblr, you played yourself. Also, this site turned me off The Musketeers around season 3. So much Aramis hate, kind of soured me since I watched the show for Santiago Cabrera. And then that association soured me on Santiago, so. Thanks.

J: Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr. I'm going to say Teen Wolf. It was all over the place when it was first airing and people either loved it or thought it was ridiculous so I started watching it finally and it was ridiculously great. But then they killed off Allison and ruined my life :)))))

K: How do you feel about the other people in your current fandom(s). I don't really know what my current fandoms are - I'm kind of really into Shadowhuters rn but not in a "making things" sort of way. Anyway, I have heard some very terrible things about this fandom so I am wary.

L: Your favorite fanartist/author gives you one request, what do you ask for? I don't read fanfic and I'm not into fanart so.

M: A person who got you into a fandom and what fandom they pulled you in to. @nyx4 again. Got me into watching Sons of Anarchy. I had tried previously and got about 10 minutes in and couldn't stand it but she said it got better so I powered through and then I was into it.

As for non-TV and movie stuff, @tsukinosusagis got me into a shitton of music and like he said a few days ago “Remember when Lights created our friendship??? ICONIC”

N: Your favorite fandom (for the people; not the thing you fangirl over). Legend of the Seeker on its Livejournal days, back in 2009 and 2010 were my favorite. Nothing on tumblr.hell is a good fandom. All of it should burn.

O: Choose a song at random, what ship does it remind you of? Lmao I'm really bad at this. I suffer trying to pick songs for ships so idk

P: Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas). SHADOWHUNTERS PIRATE AU. Also, it's not an AU, but I have a very elaborate setup in my head for an episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia where the gang is convinced the bar is haunted and the name of the ep is "Paddy's Pub: The Most Haunted Bar in Philadelphia"

Q: A ship you’ve abandoned and why. Cersei/Jaime because Jaime is a rapist. Also made me stop watching GOT because I was really mostly watching for Cersei and Jaime but I didn’t wanna see Jaime anymore so

R: A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships. Morgana/Lancelot from Merlin. I'm sure there's a lot in the actual Arthuriana stuff that people ship, but I'm just talking about the show. I was only able to find maybe 1 gifset and 2 fics about these two. Granted, I only shipped them because SANTIAGO CABRERA AND KATIE MCGRATH so maybe nobody else cared.

S: What's a headcanon you have? I don't really have any of these.

T: What are your favorite male/male ships or female/female ships? Jace/Alec (Shadowhuters), Aramis/Porthos (The Musketeers), Red/Snow (Once Upon a Time), Rizzoli/Isles (Rizzoli & Isles), Eliot/Quentin (The Magicians), Penny/Quentin (The Magicians), Xena/Gabrielle (Xena), Mac/Dennis (It's Alway Sunny), Willow/Tara (BTVS)

U: What are your favorite male/female ships? Mulder/Scully (The X-Files), Cesare/Lucrezia (The Borgias), Richard/Nicci (Legend of the Seeker), Richard/Cara (Legend of the Seeker), Gemma/Tig (Sons of Anarchy), Mitchell/Annie (Being Human), Spike/Dru (BTVS), Jim/Pam (The Office), Jane/Michael (Jane the Virgin)

V: Do you have any 3-way ships? If so, what? Yeah, Darken Rahl/Cara/Dahlia from Legend of the Seeker. And it has to be a threeway, because any two of these characters together I don't ship but the 3 together? YES YES YES

W: 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms. Bo Dennis (Lost Girl) Ilithyia (Spartacus) Dana Scully (The X-Files) Quentin Coldwater (The Magicians) Gemma Teller (Sons of Anarchy)

X: 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms. Why would ya ask me this question when you asked for my favorite ships above, bro?

But I guess

Mulder/Scully (The X-Files) Richard/Nicci (Legend of the Seeker) Jim/Pam (The Office)

Y: A fandom you’re in but have no ships from. Most of them - like even if I do have a ship, it's pretty lowkey? A lot of the above are lowkey. But I'll say Black Sails.

Z: What's a ship that you want to ship publicly, but everyone on tumblr hates it so you keep your mouth shut about it? Lol Jalec I guess? Like I'm saying it right now, but I'm not gonna go out there and go big with it because lots of annoying people out there.

#about meme

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lizziebennet · 7 years

Note

I've been following you for a while and I've noticed how much you love Pride and Prejudice. I also love both the book and the 2005 film, but I've always had one pretty serious problem with the storyline. I've never understood why Elizabeth falls for Darcy. I've read the book countless times, seen the film even more than that, and I still don't understand. Why does Elizabeth, a wonderful, bright, independent, and headstrong woman fall in love with a man who has repeatedly shamed her and her

family? And when he attempts to make up for hurting Elizabeth’s feelings, he really only fixes the things HE RUINED in the first place (ie Jane and Bingley’s relationship). Other than that, I still don’t understand why Elizabeth should fall in love with this man. She even states that “only the deepest of loves will persuade me into matrimony”, and Darcy has done nothing to warrant that love besides giving Lydia the money for her marriage. I’ve looked up to Lizzy since I was 11 and I don’t get it

[crackles knuckles] buckle up yall we’re ab to get DEEP into pride and prejudice

ok well first of all thanks for sending me this ask bc i love talking ab p&p as everyone knows.

so ur question: Why does lizzie fall for darcy??????

i like to think about it this way: what would’ve happened if lizzie hadn’t overheard darcy and bingley belittle her at the dance?(there are some rly good fics on this topic btw) how wouldve lizzie and darcy’s relationship progressed differently if lizzie hadn’t been determined to hat e him before they ever really interact? because of their interactions after that hinge on lizzie’s opinion of darcy being set – hes a pompous dick. she decides it. but what if she had greeted him with an open mind like any other new acquaintance? i think she wouldve probably still thought he was awkward and pompous but realized much sooner that there was more to him than that.

because what happens in the book is that while darcy is having this evolution from his prejudiced view of lizzie based on her social status to falling in love with her, lizzie isnt budging from her opinion that darcy is a dick because she hasnt had any positive interactions with him to change that view. when wickham (a guy she literally jUST met and doesnt have any connections with) tells her darcy is an asshole she believes it right away because thats already how she views him.

in short what im saying that they both start out with a predisposition to dislike one another – darcy because lizzie isnt high born and lizzie because she overhears darcy say a mean thing about her. darcy’s opinion changes because he spends time with lizzie (and jane) and sees what great amazing vibrant people they are.

but lizzies opinion of darcy doesnt change except to get WORSE based on what other people tell her. and thats because of one of the central problems in p&p: DARCY IS HORRIBLE AT COMMUNICATING WITH OTHER PEOPLE!!! he cant show his personality to lizzie the same way she does to him because hes so awkward and doesnt know how to act well. i think if darcy didn’t have issues with being around new people lizzie’s opinion of him would change so much more quickly and thats because DARCY IS ACTUALLY A GOOD PERSON!!!!!

the bennets are always like why does bingley who is amazing hang out with darcy who is the worst??? its because darcy is actually a caring and compassionate friend again he just doesnt do well with new people. we see this with how he interacts with georgiana, when the housekeeper at pemberley tells lizzie and her aunt and uncle that darcy is adored by all the staff and everyone in town, etc etc. darcy is a good person – not perfect, he def has lots of faults like pride and prejudice and classism for example – but he just isnt good at showing that thru words.

so what changes lizzies mind??? even if darcy is secretly a good person why would lizzie care after what he did to jane and bingley? well a few very important things happen.

1. lizzie gets the letter from darcy. this letter isnt a 100% fix it situation because he doesnt explain the rude things he says ab her family but it does explain ab wickham and make lizzie feel for him ab that whole situation. it also explained ab jane and bingley and while lizzie doesnt agree w him, it def changes her perspective that darcy is an evil villain who just wanted to cause pain. still, after the letter she mostly feels awkward and guilty and embarrassed but no love.

2. darcy practices. when at rosings lizzie makes fun of how bad darcy is at talking to people and he tells her that its not something that comes naturally to him. lizzie tells him to “take his aunts advice and practice” and when lizzie goes to pemberley its obvious that he hAS BEEN PRACTICING!!!! lizzie notes that he is not at all like how he was when she interacted with him before, and her aunt and uncle are like why did u tell us darcy was such a bad dude?? he rules?? darcy isnt perfect but the point is that he gets better – he learns!!! lizzie teaches him!!!!!! he becomes better – less judgmental, less standoffish because he wanted to better for lizzie.

3. actions speak louder than words. even tho darcy is getting better at talking his actions still speak louder than what he says. the way he interacts with georgiana at pemberley, the way he rescues lydia, the way he convinces bingley to go back to jane. these actions show lizzie that the TRUE person he is and make her realize that hes actually Great.

like if ur thinking ab lizzie and darcy as darcy is an ass why does lizzie change her mind about him i view it differently?? like i think darcy was always a good person who is very suited to lizzie but because of the communication errors (lizzie “willfully misunderstanding” him) and drama that goes on, lizzie doesnt find this out until the end.

because i do think that lizzie and darcy are Very suited for each other. they are SO ALIKE (lizzie says this so cutely at the end of the 2005 version). they are both proud and they both have prejudices. lizzie kind of thinks shes better than everyone else and love to make fun of people and secretly watch their “follies” to get amusement. darcy prefers to be by himself or with a close few because he generally thinks all new people arent really worth his time. they are both really fiery and passionate. and i think they both challenge each other like… when u think ab darcy growing up losing his parents at a young age and being so rich do u think anyone really called him out on his shit in his entire adult life??? no. so when lizzie like dragged his ass thru the dirt it was probably the first time anyone told him that he came off like a total douche. and even tho lizzie makes fun of darcy when he says “my good opinion once lost is lost forever” ISNT THAT EXACTLY WHAT LIZZIE IS LIKE??? she decides she hates darcy and likes wickham and then realizes she was totally wrong about both of them.

they are also both oblivious about their friends’ love lives even though they want whats best for them (im talking ab charlotte for lizzie) and both are really loyal to their families. and yeah, what darcy said ab lizzies family was really really rude but was it different than anything lizzie has said before??? she is constantly getting annoyed/embarrassed by her mom and her sisters. so.

i really think they are soulmates because they bring out the best in one another. they challenge each other and have really different viewpoints and upbringings but the same core values.

i hope this maybe explained a little of why they fall in love??? basically it wasnt about the lydia wickham thing at all but about lizzie Seeing darcy as he truly is.

#p&p #i love lizzie and darcy i hope i did a decent job explaining this #littlequeenoflight #aurora got an ask #aurora RANTS

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lostlastsforever756 · 5 years

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That Rizzles fic, though. You’ve saved my weekend because I’m losing my mind here over the fine details of purchasing rights and pricing out contracts for restaurants. (Seriously, it’s 2:30AM and I almost cried.)

Maura moving back home at Christmas, bound to eventually run into Jane again and dredge up complicated and painful feelings and memories?! You’ve just given me an amazing early holiday gift! “It’s like those Hallmark Christmas Movies™” AKA IDEAL. I LOVE TRASHY CHRISTMAS ROMCOMS/DRAMAS.

Okay, so. A ‘when they were kids’ prologue? Heartbreaking, what the hell. I SIGNED UP FOR CHRISTMAS CUTENESS, however I am also a sucker for angst so goddamnit you got me. Teeny boppers Maura and Jane, ugh. You can just imagine them as the two sorta ‘weird’ kids, the outcasts that only got along with each other. My favourite section of this is either Maura’s anxiety, which is palpable and relatably overwhelming in a childish way, or her observing Jane and how “her body moves is as fluid as a dancer” as she shoots hoops. It’s entirely Maura to make that connection instead of just a plain athletic observation, and it’s so sweet and loving. Plus Jane was absolutely the kid that was all awkwardly bolshy and lanky and scraped knees, naturally sporty if not exactly a team player.

Now to the actual intro chapter. And oh my god this is just Winter blues to the max. Maura leaving and no one throwing her a going away party is entirely plausible and sad. Maura being aware of this? Ouch. I like how you write her and balance her rational, straightforward bluntness with how emotional and in turmoil she actually is. The confrontation with the student? I felt that awkwardness. Maybe weirdly, I sort of agree with him and at least partly already feel like Maura is taking this move for the wrong reasons. I know it eventually leads to Jane but Maura, honey, you’re obviously not clear-headed right now. In the short term you’re still going to be miserable when you move to Boston.

(But props to Maura for walking through snow and ice in heels. I struggle to do that in proper Winter boots every year.)

Your Jack actually makes me like him in this tiny bit, amazing! A Christmas miracle. Or maybe that’s my sleep deprivation talking. But still. She is throwing away everything to follow him, and not even out of love from her heart, but out of being lost and grasping for any possible way out and a sense of societal obligation and normality. If she were in a healthier place maybe it could work. I mean, well, no. It would never. But oh Maura. This is going to be a long road to happiness, I can feel it.

My reply:

First of all, super glad you saw this and also I love getting these messages??? And i wanted to reply to this so bad that I finally got back into my computer instead of using stupid tumblr mobile to properly reply because tumblr seems to be…not notifying me of messages on mobile? and also, like, eating the replies? so that’s cool.

Honestly, sometimes (most of the time) i love me some trashy hallmark rom coms, but I think about Rizzles ALL THE TIME so I was like yup time to get it done. I didn’t want this to be like a “we saw each other once and immediately fell in love” thing, I wanted there to be that wonderful friendship we see in the show with the romance, so like that’s where the prologue came in. I love writing about people having anxiety, because I feel like it happens so often to me and its not something i can ignore, it’s like the only thing i can think about is not throwing up when it happens to me, and it happens when I’m just thinking about asking someone a question soooo yeah. I love thinking about baby Jane tbh, because I know that girl never showered and tried to wear shorts well into February and honestly that was me as a kid. The point of the prologue was just to kinda show that these two girls really cared and loved each other at some point to make what’s about to happen more natural.

So, on to Maura! She’s….she’s uh…she’s dumb sometimes. And if you read the books, I’m pretty sure there are like one or two scenes where she shows up to a crime scene in the snow in shoes that are NOT winter boots and almost falls on her ass, so I had to add that in as well. She’s dumb sometimes, but i love her, and also who isn’t? But she’s also dumb because yes, the student is correct, she is quitting and moving for all the wrong reasons. She’s kind of under this impression that she needs to be a “good wife” to Jack, something she has come up with on her own, by the way, and she’s not entirely sure how to do that. So, she has taken it to the extreme and is quitting and thinking shes gonna be a house wife (which, tbh, i would probably do that too, i take everything too far in one direction or another) when really all that’s gonna do is make her even more sad. And she KNOWS IT but she’s gonna try to do it anyway. Well, you know, until Jane comes along lol.

I am trying to make Jack as likable as possible, because when I watched the show, i didn’t really see him as a bad guy and I don’t like to immediately paint significant others as bad in fics, you know? We all know she’s gonna leave him for Jane, but he doesn’t have to be a horrible dude for that to happen, sometimes things like that just happen. Although, chapter two, you might not like him as much, but he is also afraid because he knows that Maura probably isn’t into him as much as he is in to her. And also i wrote another thing in chapter 3 that might not make him look good, but i promise my original intention was to not make him look bad!

So, over all, Maura is an extremist and would be making a huge mistake if Jane wasn’t on the other end of these horrible decisions lol. I really hope to finish this by christmas (except that’s 5 days away and I only just realized that RIGHT NOW so that probably won’t happen I’m SORRY!) Also, you can tell me I’m wrong, but Sasha and Elizabeth Mitchell DO have similar facial features, okay?? I’m not crazy! (if you haven’t read chapter two, you have no idea what i’m talking about but you’ll get it lol).

Thank you, as always, for reading and validating my fanfiction <3 also, sorry about the crying at 2 am thing, that sounds horrible and I hope you can figure it all out and get some much deserved rest

#replies #late night asks #my fanfiction #personal #also sorrry for the ramble i feel like none of it makes sense but oh well #submission

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