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honeykaes · 1 year

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—𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐲

✦ pairing: kaveh x reader

✦ w/c: 2.1k

✦ warning: dark content, yandere content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: gender-neutral reader, gods/goddesses au, based on apollo myth, kidnapping, stalking, planned assassination, same universe as death's infatuation, gaslighting (alhaitham to kaveh), implied drugging, unedited

Kaveh hated how much he wore his heart on his sleeve despite being a divine entity. He was the God of Creativity after all, and his kindness and diligence with his craft had granted him favor with the many Gods and Goddesses of the lands. He even had favor with the other two most powerful Gods in Sumeru. Alhaitham, who he hated to praise, was analytical, granting favor for all that asked for his knowledge and skill. Nahida, who he loved, was sweet and merciful, often blessing the unfortunate and giving them a chance in life. Still, between the two of them, his heart couldn’t help fluttering in envy at times—wishing he could have the respect they craftily created.

It wasn’t until one day when he met with Alhaitham he saw another side of the usual stoic and cynical God. His typical eyes burned from their usually greenish hue to bright red, silently steaming. Kaveh resisted the urge to back up watching vines beginning to climb up and weave their way through the room. The God of Wisdom glared down at Kaveh before turning his body away from him. Kaveh only narrowed his eyes but could feel himself shrink, feeling Alhaitham’s anger. Kaveh swallowed, saliva coating his dry throat letting flowers begin to grow on the vines as a means to try to distract him and let the sweet aroma coax his anger.

“Alhaitham. It’s unlike you to be this bothered about anything. What happened to the perfect creation,” Kaveh attempted to greet in a sarcastic and light tone. Alhaitham’s body shook for a second before he sighed, as red began to dissipate from his form returning to its emerald green state. Alhaitham took a seat grabbing a large henna berry from a bowl beside him.

“One of the villages that pray to me has stopped because a lowly foreign mortal has convinced them the meritocracy, I so carefully created, should be crushed,” he sighed. Kaveh resisted the urge to sigh. He couldn’t help but agree with the mortal for once. He despised Alhaitham’s meritocracy style, seeing how many people fell through the cracks.

“...Diplomacy? Acceptance? As if these mortals can actually enact these laws without a coup or the knowledge to keep their civilization alive without the Gods,” Alhaitham sighed. Kaveh simply shrugged, a lazy smile on his thin pink lips.

“To think you’re bothered over something so trivial. You just said it yourself. They’re a mortal, Who cares? They’ll probably die before they can enact real change in your civilization, yknow?” Kaveh replied. Alhaitham’s eyes flickered up to Kaveh in annoyance.

“Sheesh, okay okay. I’m sorry!” Kaveh yelled out. Alhaitham sighed once more. His slim fingers tapping on a marble table..

“...I need you to do a favor for me. Get rid of them. Kill them. Make them disappear. Take them back to wherever they came from, I don’t care,” Alhaitham announced,” It’s too dangerous to let them continue doing as they please as the seeds of change have already been planted.”

Kaveh ruby eyes widened. Kaveh typically didn’t do bounties anymore, especially after...he had to kill another God. Kaveh swore to himself he wouldn’t let himself go that far anymore.

“Alhaitham I can’t—”

“You don’t think you owe me after all the support and needs I gave to a dying God. Let’s be real, if you were on your own, you wouldn’t be able to talk to me right now, now would you Kaveh? I would do it myself, but I know Nahida would encourage me not to and I don’t feel like debating her right now,” Alhaitham muttered. Kaveh clenched his mouth tightly, flowers beginning to wilt at his frustrations. Alhaitham was right, he couldn’t protest. It was because of Alhaitham people began to pray to him again, raising him to popularity. If that last girl, Nilou, managed to perish, he would have disappeared with her.

“...Fine. Show me what they looks like.”

Kaveh flew in the night, based by the dark the night graced him. Below, he saw your blurred form talking with someone in a temple. Trees were scattered around, as Kaveh descended. As his eyes adjusted and saw your sad form, his cold, guarded heart fluttered. He felt his cheeks heat up, he was sure he was blushing. Why was this happening at all times?

“We fall in love in one second as divine beings. It only takes one sight to know we want to be with that person for the rest of our existence.”

That comment from his late mother resonated with him. Was this a sign? You must be his love? His forever? Kaveh has been so jealous of the other deities having cute nymphs catering to them. He wanted that, to fill the void in his life. Kaveh wanted you to help fill the void in his life.

Kaveh could see the old tear stains on your face as you spoke with your friend. You had caused the wrath of Al-haitham? You seemed so gentle and sweet.

“(Y/n), I promise it’ll be okay. I swore to you that I would protect you. I refuse for you to get hurt and I stand by any of my promises,” the man insisted. His dark-skinned hands wiped your cheek before gently caressing your cheek gently, the coolness giving you goosebumps. Kaveh resisted the urge to swoop in and take his hand from you. Kaveh didn’t expect you to be this close with Cyno, the God of Judgment. He was considered a lower god and mainly did dealings in the human world.

“Cyno, I’ve angered the Gods and couldn’t even give you what you wanted. This is it for me. I’ve accepted my fate. The village was already planning on marrying me off to appease Alahitham’s other villages. You don’t have to protect me,” you insisted. Lightning begins to crackle from a distance causing your form to jump. Cyno narrowed his eyes towards the rest of the temple, gentle snow falling from it.

Kaveh clicked his tongue understanding the situation now. Cyno had been the one to get you to advocate for diplomacy and crush the meritocracy in the village. He wondered if Alhaitham would retaliate against him if he knew.

“I’m going to make this up to you, I promise. I’m going to head off and ask my allies to protect you—this used to be Tighnari’s village after all. I’m sure...he has already requested for your head,” Cyno muttered. You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“...You should be protecting yourself, Cyno. Now go, alright?” you insisted. With a sad nod, the God of Snow morphed into stormy purple clouds, as it drifted towards the sky to Mount Celestia. You sighed into the night once more before going to the plaza where the village was celebrating.

The men were conducting traditional dances of the forest, in an attempt to appease Alhaitham. The bright color of green, black and gold was worn all over—contradicting your soft red attire. You knew the village was filled with kind people, who feared what would happen if larger villages would come in and overrun the area. You were thankful they still treated you with the kindness you gave them. Your eyes wandered towards a boy who suddenly dropped his toy on the ground, eyes wide and looking at something else. Slowly, the other villagers followed. You narrowed your eyes, turning your head towards their direction—to see him.

Kaveh loomed in the sky as the mortals looked in awe. He continued to look at you, attempting to morph his face into that of anger—a complete contradiction to his internal feelings that wanted nothing to hold you in his arms.

“Foreign mortal, you have angered a friend of mine and for that, I have been sent down to deal with you myself. How lucky,” Kaveh seethed. He quickly lunged forwards swooping you in his arms. He resisted the urge to moan from the smell of your body. You felt so soft under his tight grip, as you struggled in fear. Kaveh shifted his head causing his blonde hair to seem wilder than what it was, gripping you tighter, as he looked down to the village.

“Be sure to not piss him off again. Would hate to see him bury this place up like he did the last,” Kaveh stated, shooting up to the sky. He could hear the screams of the villagers dying out as he reached closer and closer to his home in the heavens. You had stopped struggling, your beautiful eyes shut closed. Kaveh assumed you had stressed yourself out so much, you passed out. It was no worry though.

He’d be sure to take good care of you.

You fluttered your eyes open, looking at the large empty bed lifting your form up from the silky sheets of the bed. You’d been with the mysterious floating man for 3 months now. Life was relatively mundane for you.

You couldn’t ask him questions, he’d ignore you insisting on talking about something else. You couldn’t leave wherever you were lodging at, he insisted it was for your protection. The only company you had were the books he had given you: stories of different deities in Mount Celestia. Out of all of them, you felt a connection with the newest spring god. You wonder how they were feeling, being with both the God of Death and God of Hurricane.

Life wasn’t all that bad though. You didn’t have to fear Alhaitham anymore. The blond man had given you everything you could have wanted, only wanting your touch and affection as payment. You weren’t really sure if you truly liked him though; he was just a question mark to you.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your eyes wandered towards the window as you approached it. Your eyes widen seeing familiar stormy scarlet-slitted eyes look back at you. It was Cyno. You quickly opened it, feeling your skin shiver from the cool breeze outside. How you missed your close friend.

“Cyno! I missed you so much! Are you alright?! How did you even get here?!” you began to ramble. Cyno looked around you, seemingly more serious than he usually was, most likely out of caution of being caught talking to you. You narrowed your eyes in confusion.

“(Y/n), I don’t have a lot of time, but you need to get out of here as soon as possible. The man you’re staying with is Kaveh, the God of Creativity, Flowers and Dreams. More importantly, he’s an ally to Alhaitham!” Cyno quickly murmured. The smile on your face fell in confusion, fear began to bubble in your stomach.

“W-What? If that was the case he would’ve killed me already right? I mean I’ve been here for 3 months—

“What are you talking about? You’ve been here for over a year!” Cyno shouted back. Your body began to shake. You had assumed every night you fell asleep, you’d wake up to the next day. Was that not the case? Has Kaveh tampered with your sense of time? Cyno lifted his hand up revealing a silver dagger, placing it gently in your hands. It felt so cold against your skin.

“...If you can manage to stab him with this, it’ll render him immobile for the time being. I can then take you away and up towards my Tighnari’s domain where he agreed to let you stay, alright? You have to do it tonight, do you understand?!” Cyno grunted. His body was becoming foggier and foggier. With a sad sigh, Cyno flashed a gentle smile.

“I promised I would’ve made it up to you, right?” With that, Cyno’s body faded, leaving the view of the blue sky you knew all so well. You held the silver dagger up, the metal shining in the sunlight.

You trusted Cyno over Kaveh in a heartbeat.

Night arrived rather quickly. You insisted on not eating, claiming you were feeling sick. Kaveh insisted you go to bed early claiming he would sleep with you too. His arms were wrapped around your frame. You could feel his breath evening out. Your frozen body could feel the blond man relax. You wiggled out of his grasp, grabbing the dagger you hit underneath your pillow.

Your hand shook, tears beginning to develop. Could you do this? Could you really stab someone? Surely Kaveh was still kind...right? Did he deserve this? You exhaled, lowering your body from him, dropping the knife away from your grasp. You couldn’t do it. You were too conflicted.

“...Looks like I was right about you all this time—”

You froze, feeling his hands cup against your cheeks, leaning his face close to yours. Kaveh smiled gently, pale cheeks flushed in a rosy hue. The world around you seem to be slipping, the smell of sweet flowers overwhelming your senses.

“I just knew you were just meant to be mine”

#genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #kaveh x reader #yandere kaveh #kaveh imagines #kaveh scenarios #tw dark content #tw yandere

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lomobu · 2 years

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Closed hands with rosary tattoo

It can show that you take your religion seriously and want to keep Jesus close to your heart at all times. Prayers are traditionally an important part of the Christian faith so having this be a symbol on one’s body is significant. Tattoo Rosary on HandĪ rosary tattoo on the hand means that the person is devoted to his or her faith. For Christians, a hand with a cross signifies one’s devotion to God and Jesus Christ. Cross Hand TattooĬross hand tattoos are symbolic of the Christian faith and represent Jesus’s crucifixion. The design is deeply personal and private and often comes with initials or names inside the hearts. This is a great design for girls who want to show their love for friends and family. They give off a tropical island vibe, especially when you have tribal designs inked. Henna hand tattoos are popular during the summer among tourists taking a break. This is a temporary tattoo that people have become increasingly interested in due to its natural look. A small butterfly hand tattoo can be placed on the palm, on the fingers, or on the back of your hand. These chic and feminine designs can make a woman’s hands look delicate and graceful. Butterfly Hand TattooĪ colorful butterfly inked on your hand can enhance the beauty of existing tattoos or stand out on its own. The three petals inked on your hand will require more time than other designs as it takes shading with darker colors but if you want a bold final product then this could be just what you’re looking for. Rose Hand TattooĪ tattoo of the rose is often designed to represent faith, hope and love. It is striking and bold and serves as a reminder to make the most out of life. Far from it, a skull design can be inked on the hands of anyone with an edgy style or love for gothic art. Skull tattoos are not just for people who have dark personalities. Also referred to as a ‘bone hand tattoo’. It can also represent mortality, or simply be a reminder that our time on earth is limited. Apart from looking very cool, a simple skeleton hand tattoo design can be seen as a symbol of death because it shows that you’ve “broken the skin” and crossed over into the world of the dead.

#Closed hands with rosary tattoo

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 3 years

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The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 10

A/N: I can’t believe I’m already on part 10 for this series and to be honest it’s fun to write. And in all seriousness, the tumblr mobile app needs to allow you to put a read more link. But anyways love you all and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! Mwah! 🖤🖤🖤

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, some violence, and blood

“Im sorry, did you just say Madripoor?” You blinked at Zemo, dreading the destination ahead of you.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam questioned, looking between you and Zemo.

“Imagine Mos Eisley from Tatooine but without the aliens and blasters.” You tried to make an analogy. “In other words, a shithole. And to be honest, I’d rather be in Mos Eisley.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky explained to Sam.

“It’s kept its lawless ways.” Zemo added before turning to James. “But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You had a feeling Zemo would suggest all of you going in with different identities, and being the only woman in the group, you already had a wild guess you weren’t going to be ecstatic about yours. You looked to Bucky with a frown on your lips. You knew what Zemo had meant towards him, and you didn’t know how it would affect him to transition back into the person he tried so hard to deviate from. Bucky saw the sympathetic smile you gave him, and he returned it with a look that reassured you that he would be fine.

“Y/n.” Zemo now spoke to you, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “I’m sure you are aware of the conditions.”

“Zemo if you...” Bucky trailed off as he glared at him, silently warning him to watch what he says next.

Sam and Bucky kept their eyes on Zemo, waiting to hear what his suggested persona for you was and ready to beat his ass if he dared to suggest something that would be demeaning to you.

“No way in the pits of Tartarus. I am not going in as an escort.” You voiced with a clenched jaw. “And if it’s eye candy you need, you have Sam.”

Sam gave you a surprised look from your comment, flattered to have you recommend him to be the designated eye candy before going back to the topic at hand. “Hell no Zemo. You’re not having y/n pretend to be an escort.”

“I’m afraid Sam is already going as someone.” Zemo sat back with his hands folded in his lap. “And don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on having you go as an escort, it isn’t befitting of a baron like me. Plus, I figured it would be uncomfortable for you, so I was going to suggest you act as my fiancé, if you are willing of course.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering on the subject. You were a bit relieved in all honesty. But to pretend to be Zemo’s fiancé and be in close and almost physical proximities with him?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to y/n.” Sam uttered to you.

“I’ll do it.” You confirmed.

“Are you sure?” Zemo asked you again, making sure you were comfortable with acting the part.

“I thought Zemo might step out of line with this one, but we don’t want you to do something that will make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure. I’ve had to do things I wasn’t comfortable with plenty of times in the past.”

Once you had all landed, Zemo decided to stop by a place so that you all may get dressed. You had already packed a dress and a pair of heels with you just in case for situations like these, since this wasn’t the first time you had to dress up for a mission. The dress you wore was a black, burned velvet silk slip-like dress with the velvet print being dark red roses. The dress wasn’t too tight to be constricting of movement and fit perfectly around around your curves. If the situation should arise that you needed to defend yourself, you needed the freedom to be able to move. Going down, the fabric flared slightly at your hips, brushing barely against the floor with your heels on. The skirt was slightly sheer from the bottom of your thighs and down with the floral velvet print, and had a slit going up your right thigh, perfect for kicking and concealing your dagger. The top torso portion of the front of your dress was a spaghetti strap cowl neckline that stopped just above the curve of your breasts, allowing for just a bit of cleavage. Your back was left bare, stopping at your mid back with thin straps that came across in a pattern. Your dress almost had a Grecian/witchy look from the way it draped over your chest and hips. It wasn’t too formal or too scandalous, it was elegant and classy, and showed just the right amount of skin where it wouldn’t be too revealing.

Even though you completely loathed and detested heels of any kinds, your heels were fairly simple, made of black velvet with straps that came across your ankles and toes. You dreaded heaving to wear them but at the same time you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you wore your docs with these. Perhaps you should’ve brought your nicer sandals, but it was too late now. You kept on your mother’s necklace and wore a set of amethyst drop earrings, throwing on a silver cuff bracelet on each wrist. Your hair was let loose to conceal your short sword that you hid on your back underneath your dress, the hilt resting right between your shoulder blades. You prayed that having your hair down would cover the scars and the sword you had on your back. But you were mostly focused about the scars, you failed to mention them to the guys about it since it was something that was hard for you to share. The only makeup you had on was some eyeshadow and mascara to darken your eyes, very little blush, and a lip tint.

The last thing to do was to put on some perfume, so you spritzed on your favorite oil based one that you had from Olympus on your pulse points. The scent was filled with incense-like scents like dragon’s blood, sage, crushed red roses, sandalwood, ghostly white musk, absinthe, almonds, and heady gardenia. It wasn’t as harsh as the common alcohol based ones, this one was more earthy and ancient, and every time you wore it, the scent lingered and heads turned. You gave yourself a once over when you were done, taking in a deep breath before heading out to join the others.

You became nervous as you saw them gathered together, talking amongst themselves as they haven’t noticed you yet. You rarely ever wore dresses these days, especially of the kind you were wearing now which left you feeling bare and exposed even though the dress wasn’t at all much revealing. So as you approached them, you couldn’t help picking at your fingers in anxiety.

The men turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the ground, and when they laid their eyes on you, they couldn’t help but gawk with their mouths parted open, as if they had seen the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. You chewed on the inside of your cheeks as you saw how they stared at you.

“Wow.” Sam was the first to say something. “You look like a million bucks.”

“What? Never seen a woman in a dress before?”

“No, I’ve just never seen you in a dress before.” Sam answered. “You’re always dressed like some hippie/librarian, with your bands shirts, sweaters, plaid pants and jackets.”

“Haha vary funny.”

“Also since when did you have muscles?” Sam noticed as he poked your bare arm. “And since when did you have a tattoo?” He observed the mark you had on your upper right arm, right below your shoulder. It was the mark that was given to you to signify your Olympian status and what you represented. It was about the color that henna left behind after you wiped the paste off your skin, the color of ginger and bronze. The center of your mark was a lightning bolt, which represented a child of Zeus. Below that was your symbol, the torch and the triple moons.

“Since when did you start asking so many questions? But yeah, I’ve always had muscles Sam, I was trained in combat since I was, you could say 9 years old in human years. Also, technically everyone has them, it’s what allows us to move and lift things. And that.” You pointed to your tattoo. “Is my goddess mark, not a tattoo. Every Olympian god has one and they each have their personal symbol that represents them.”

“Wait, so you’ve been trained since you were a kid?” Bucky looked at you to clarify what he heard as they all started to head out.

“Technically, everyone on Olympus starts training that young. Then, when they become of age, a tournament is held to display their skills, following a ceremony after, to celebrate their victory.” You explained as you walked beside them.

The four of you were currently walking on the bridge that led to Madripoor. You could see the city’s skyline out in the distance, the cyberpunk like buildings lighting up the night sky.

“Do you need my coat?” You heard Zemo say beside you, making you look at him.

“Sorry?”

“Do you need my coat?” He repeated himself, referring to how your arms were bare against the cool night. “I wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

You stared at him, stunned from the kind gesture as you tried to form words to say. “Oh uh.....I appreciate the gesture, but I’m fine actually. I’m not that cold.” Though you didn’t want to admit it, you actually would’ve liked to try on his coat, because in all honesty it was a damn nice coat.

“We have to fix this.” You heard Sam say with irritation visible in his voice. “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing.” Zemo mentioned as he pulled out his phone to show Sam. “The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam observed the photo.

“You smell this?”

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam sniffed the air as you did the same.

“Smells rancid.” You scrunched your nose at the smell.

“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error.” Zemo instructed as a black car pulled up in front of you. “High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.”

“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” Sam remarked as he opened the door for the back seat.

“Y/n. A moment please, if you will.” Zemo uttered to you.

You stopped in your tracks, seeing Bucky and Sam stand on either side of the car doors, looking between the two of you and especially Zemo, with caution. You nodded your head at them, signaling you were fine and that they can get seated. And though they sat themselves inside the car, that didn’t stop them from keeping their eyes glued to Zemo to make sure he didn’t pull anything stupid.

“What’s the issue?” You turned to Zemo, giving him your attention.

“Since you will be portraying my fiancé, there’s a certain key element you will be needing to complete the image.” You watched as he pulled out a ring from his coat pocket, displaying it in front of you. “If I may?”

You stared at Zemo blankly before nodding your head and holding out your left hand for him. You knew this was only for a show, but you couldn’t help but stiffen as he delicately held your hand with his gloved one before slipping the ring onto your ring finger.

“There.” Hi smiled softly at you, his hand still holding yours. “Now you look the part.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, leaving behind a trail of warmth as he gazed down at you. Zemo swore he could have gotten lost in the violet swirls and gold flecks of your eyes forever, which now sparkled against Madripoor’s lit up skyline, the neon city and the places he’s visited not even coming close to the beauty he held before him.

You tried not to blush under his gaze as you gave him a polite smile before slipping your hand out of his. “I should probably change my eyes huh.” You remembered, changing your eyes to a normal color known to earth. “Should I hide the scar?” You asked him, referring to the one on your face.

“I think you should leave it. It suits you, and besides, you never know who might recognize you without it.”

Nodding your head at him, you headed to the car and settling in beside Bucky as Zemo followed, getting in the passenger seat in front of you. In the car ride there, you glanced down at the ring Zemo slipped on your finger, it was definitely a beautiful elegant ring, with a rose gold band and a pear cut garnet in the center that had diamonds that accented the bottom. Once you arrived in the city, you walked through the neon lit streets beside Zemo while Sam and Bucky followed behind. You loosened up your body as you went, swaying your hips slightly as you tried your best not to walk like a bodyguard and look threatening as everyone’s eyes followed the four of you strolling through the streets.

“Here we are.” Zemo announced, stopping in front of a bar before speaking to Bucky in Russian. “Ready to comply… Winter Soldier?”

As you went in, Zemo leaned in to whisper in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck and startling you as he spoke in a hushed tone. “I want to apologize in advance, forgive me.”

You looked at him with furrowed brows to question what he meant until you felt his gloved hand slide across your back before resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his side. You noticed how his hand fumbled after brushing across your sword as he gave you a questioning look. What was that on your back? Did you really conceal a full on sword on your back underneath your dress? On your way to the bar table you saw people stare as you went through, some of them gawking in surprise at Bucky, or the winter soldier as he was now portraying, while the slimy men in the area roamed their eyes over your body hungrily. Zemo noticed your uneasiness from the way your muscles tensed, though your face didn’t show a sign of it, and glared at the men who dared to lay their eyes on you, only pulling you closer to him to prove that you were with him while Bucky and Sam noticed this as well and positioned themselves where you were blocked from the view of your peers, allowing you to breathe a little better as you approached the bar.

“Hello, gentlemen.” The bartender greeted you all. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed.” Zemo answered for him. “We have business to do with Selby.”

“The usual?”

Sam nodded his head.

“And for the lady?”

“Um Something fruity.” You answered with a flirtatious smile, silently hoping they had something like that on the menu and that you hadn’t blown their cover by ordering the wrong drink.

The bartender handed you what looked to be a pineapple martini and you internally thanked the gods for your sheer bit of luck, taking the drink and thanking the bartender with another smile. You watched as he went to work on Sam’s drink, pulling out of a jar what definitely was a snake. You gulped, your stomach feeling nauseous as you saw the bartender cut open the dead snake, taking out its guts and throwing it in the shot glass. You were mortified to say the least, snakes were one of your symbols and you had owned plenty of the gentle little creatures. You shot Sam a sympathetic look once you saw his expression.

“Cheers.” Zemo held up his glass while Sam stared at his before gathering the courage to drink it all in one go. If Sam wasn’t going to throw up, you were going to do it for him.

While your eyes were trained on Sam’s expression, you felt someone breathe over your neck before feeling a clammy hand graze across your ass.

“Hey baby-“

Your eyes widened before you grabbed the wrist of the man behind you in one quick motion, twisting his arm to an unnatural position as you yanked it away from your body, causing the sleazy looking individual let out a yelp of pain. You would’ve crushed his wrist like crumpled paper if Zemo hadn’t put a cautionary hand on your arm as he whispered to you. “Careful now.”

You let go of the man’s wrist before shoving him aside like a pile of garbage. If their identity wasn’t at risk of being revealed, Zemo, Sam, and Bucky would have gone over there and beat the guy up after you were done with him.

“I got word from high. You ain’t welcome here.” You watched from behind Zemo as a bearded man approached him.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured towards Bucky.

“New haircut?”

“Or bring Selby for a chat.”

The man glanced between Zemo and Bucky before leaving.

“A power broker? Really?” Sam turned to Zemo.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” You asked.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

Another man was approaching in your direction, most likely to kick you all out or worse, and after following your gaze, Zemo turned to Bucky, speaking to him in Russian just as the man laid a hand on his shoulder. “Winter Soldier. Attack.”

You stood back, watching as Bucky grabbed the dude’s arm and twisted it back. You refrained yourself from intervening as Bucky took down the men that fought against him.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo commented to you and Sam.

Bucky slammed one of the men down on the counter. And as you heard the clicking of guns being loaded, your defensive mode nearly kicked in as you almost reached for your sword before Zemo stopped you.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo whispered to you both before turning to Bucky and speaking in Russian again. “Well done soldier.”

You let your arm drop back down to your side, not a single change in your expression as you eyed everyone around you.

“Selby will see you now.” The bartender spoke up after getting off the phone.

Zemo gave him a thanks, nodding you over and holding out his hand for you to take as you went to his side again, Bucky and Sam following after you. You went through a back door, going down a dark corridor with Zemo’s hand on your back as he guided you through.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” You heard a woman’s voice speak, turning your head to see an older woman in a suit with short white hair lounging back on the coach with her security around her.

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo sat down on the couch before waving you over when he saw you standing near Sam. “Come sit schatzi.”

You straightened up, plastering a smile on your face as you went over to him. Selby’s eyes followed you curiously as you placed your hand in his, your eyes rapidly moving in nervousness for what area would be the most appropriate area to sit. Were you......were you supposed to sit on his lap? Is that how couples work? No, that would be inappropriate. Before things got awkward, you quickly plopped down on the empty spot next to him, crossing over your leg in a way so that it draped over his, leaving your thigh completely exposed from the slit in your dress, save for the dagger that still remained hidden. Sam and Bucky widened their eyes at what you just did, while Zemo stiffened at this sudden movement from you as you also draped one arm around his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. Were you even doing this right?

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby observed the two of you before her eyes landed on your ring. “Who’s this pretty little thing?”

“This.” Zemo looked at you with a loving look, throwing an arm around your waist to draw circles on your bare back, while his other hand rested on your thigh, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin as you felt shivers go down your spine. “Is my fiancé. Gorgeous isn’t she?”

How long has it been since you were this close and personal to someone? The last you could remember, women still wore corsets and people still rode carriages. You felt your body heat up from being this close to him, and from the way he stroked your back. How was a mortal man able to leave you feeling like this? If he was able to send shivers down your spine with the mere touch on your back with his gloved hand, you wondered how it would feel to have his bare hands on you, just skin to skin. And if you were being honest, you never really were a fan of cologne but his smelled of a deeper earthy tones with hints of musk, and you were surprised and almost ashamed to say you liked how he smelled. You returned the same loving look to Zemo, trying to make it as believable as possible as you ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head before placing a kiss on his jaw close to his ear. Sam and Bucky couldn’t believe their eyes at the scene before them, the same you who preferred to be a hermit and didn’t go on dates because it involved human interaction, was cuddling up to none other than Helmut Zemo himself. Zemo’s breath faltered a bit from from your touch as he swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling not to break character. Being this close to you, he was able to get a whiff of your perfume and my goodness, Zemo felt as if he could drown in your scent, you smelled like the heavens, not overbearingly sweet, but dark and luxurious and even seductive. Is this what vampires and sirens smelled like when they lured people to their deaths? You raised a brow at Zemo, your heightened senses were picking up on his breathing patterns and heartbeat. Was he getting nervous?

“Extremely.” Selby commented, smirking at the two of you before roaming her eyes over your body. You could feel her taking you in but you kept your eyes trained on the side of Zemo’s face. “Where did you pick this one up? She looks like a fighter.”

“As they say, why not get a woman who can do both. She was part of the Sokovian armed forces, I met her through there.”

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” Selby added after finally taking her eyes off you.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby turned to Sam with a flirtatious grin, using her hand in a claw like manner as she let out a purr. “What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo got up off the couch, going over to Bucky and holding his chin between his fingers. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or… condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me. But.....” She turned you with a sly smile which made your insides turn. “Throw her in with the package and you have yourself a deal.”

Zemo, Sam, and Bucky turned to look at you with dread upon hearing her words. This wasn’t at all part of the plan.

“No, no no. That wasn’t the deal.” Zemo stepped over to where you sat, blocking you from her. “She’s not for sale.”

“Why not?” Selby raised her brow at Zemo. “I’m pretty sure a man like you could pick up someone else to be your plaything or fiancé or whatever. I like this one in particular.” She turned to you again.

“That’s not-“ Zemo started before he was cut off by Sam’s cellphone vibrating.

You breath was caught in your throat and it felt as if the room had dropped in temperature. You could feel the tension floating around the air as everyone’s eyes were trained on Sam now, making you sit up straight and uncross your legs so that they were planted firmly on the ground. Your hand rested on your thigh just above where the hilt of your dagger was as your eyes darted around the room, watching each and every person like a hawk about to swoop down on its prey. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thebivirgin @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail

#bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #zemo fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky x you #zemo fluff #zemo imagine #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n

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thatlongspringnight · 3 years

Text

The Song of Solomon (Taehyung/Reader)

⏤ Pairing: Priest!Taehyung/Reader

⏤ Genre: smut, porn w/ plot, romance, forbidden love

⏤ Word Count: 2972

⏤ Warnings: Smut, sacrilege, cunnilingus, sex in a church, sex with a PRIEST, religion, Catholicism, tons of bible references, forbidden romance, oral, fingering, public nudity, sex in a public place

__ Rating: 18+

Summary: Kim Taehyung left your town right after high school a boyish rake, and returned a pious man. Now you’re together, and the whispered words between you both are only heard by the silent, empty church.

A very special thanks to Willow who edited this and helped make it beautiful <3

Tagging: @wwilloww @hesperantha @jin-fizz

You shouldn’t be here.

Here, in the darkened church, the only lights are the flickering of half a dozen candles, here at the front, by the altar, by the crucifix and statues that have always stood here. Here where nothing has changed, since the beginning of time. You feel small, even in the bobbing lights you can see the stained glass, holy mother gazing down at you, clutching her son. Is she passing judgement? You aren’t sure, her expression is the same serenity as always.

Although at this moment you are anything but serene.

“I compare you, my love, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.” His smooth voice, so deep - too deep, like the Nile river itself. “Your cheeks are comely with ornaments, your neck with strings of jewels. We will make you ornaments of gold, studded with silver.” He’s standing in front of you, fingertips brushing your cheeks, gentle but firm as he cups your chin, gaze hot on your own. The verse speaks of love, and it's love in your heart. Forbidden and wildly untamed in your chest.

No, you shouldn’t be here at all. You should be at home, kneeling at your bed and saying your prayers there. You shouldn’t have accepted his invitation to compline. You definitely shouldn’t have agreed so eagerly when he suggested you read from the Song of Solomon.

You shouldn’t have. You try to convince yourself, like you aren’t kneeling before him, hands clasped, eyes gazing upward at the giant crucifix. Like you aren’t an active participant in whatever is to come. You try and focus. Eyes trailing up - up -

Up - to Taehyung’s face, the only passion play you could bare to watch.

“W-While the king was on his couch, my nard gave forth its fragrance.” Your own voice stumbles, at first, tripped up by the echoing drum of your racing heart. “My beloved is to me a bag of myrrh that lies between my breasts - “ A catch of breath - it's yours, it's yours because of those hands, his - warm and rough - cupping your breasts as you read. He’s eye level now, and you swear there is nothing more beautiful than the feeling of his hands on you. Your beloved. Still, you forge forward through the verses. “My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En-gedi.”

“Ah, you are beautiful, my love;” He briefly strokes his thumb across your cheek, and the feeling makes you shiver. His eyes are dark in the candlelight, and molten as you meet their gaze. “Ah, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.” He recites the words, a poem he knows by heart, fingers trailing under your shirt. “Ah, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly lovely.” Taehyung is slow, nimble fingers taking his time with the buttons. He takes his time, as though he is cherishing the moment, like you are. A comfortable silence, until It's gone, fallen to the floor. Will you be bare here, too, then? A sinner bares their soul in confessional...and you would bare your body here, on the floor in this house of God.

“I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valley.” Your voice ceases to waver, strength hidden in your bones rising up. “As a lily among brambles, so is my love among maidens.” You sigh, and sigh again as his nose brushes your throat, as his hands trace your skin.

It feels like he is worshipping you, that you are the sacred body here, the red candle flickering in the corner. “As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among young men. With great delight I sat in his shadow, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.”

“Taste me.” His words are sweet, poison laced sugar as fingertips press against your lips, part for him, Moses and the red sea, and you taste. Taste the salt of his skin and crave him, crave more. More of his gentle smile, eyes alight as he sees you. More of the firmness of his hands, often on your back as he guided you down the hallways of this ancient, holy place. More of his laugh, still boyish and beautiful after all this time. More of every single piece of him.

“He brought me to the banqueting house, and his intention toward me was love. Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples; for I am faint with love.” You...you feel faint before you even say the words. The longing, the love - it makes you tremble. How can you be absolved from this? Why don’t you want to?

If this is sin - this beautiful, divine feeling - then what is the point of it all? He is David and you are a harp, ready to play his tune. “O that his left hand was under my head, and that his right hand embraced me!” Your voice echoes, his hand cupping your cheek, the other sliding down to wrap around your waist.

He hasn’t even kissed you yet. This feeling is your own sin, eyes eager to devour the words on the page, to decipher his next move. Overcome, it’s lust licking the sweet tendrils of flame in your belly. Hellfire?

“Your lips distill nectar, my bride; honey and milk are under your tongue.” He tilts your head back, mouth so utterly close to yours. But he doesn’t move any closer, even as you feel the warmth of his breath on your face, the press of his body against yours.

Is he...is he toying with you? And yet, the thought doesn’t match the desperation of his gaze. The way his hands tremble when they touch you. “The scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon. A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a garden locked, a fountain sealed.” The words are choked and you understand.

You are locked to him, forbidden, closed. If you want him...you must be the one to open the gate. He won’t go forward without it, without knowing that it isn’t just him that wants this - this beautiful, terrifying thing. You want it, want him, want every drop of his love that he’ll offer you.

“A garden.” You break the silence, the holy book in your hands clattering to the ground. “Solomon built the temple. He was a priest and a king, a man. Like you.” The implication is clear. Solomon was no celibate. And this time it’s you, gripping his face: “this is not a sin to absolve me of father.” It’s your lips on his. Desperate and wanting, you kiss him like a woman starved, and you are starved...starved for him, this culmination of all of your wants, here in front of you.

He could tread in your garden as he liked. So long as you could taste the nectar of his lips - You would find the milk and honey of his body. Forbidden fruit - let his juices soak you to your core.

“Not a sin?” Taehyung’s voice, deep in your ear, hoarse. “Fucking a priest in your church isn’t a sin?” His voice is deep, and there is an edge there, a hoarseness that would match your own. He sounds so - so wanting, it almost shocks you. Like his lips, soft and warm against your neck, fingers buried in your hair, tugging at the strands.

“Not one for the priest to absolve me of.” You reach up, grasping at his collar. “How can I be forgiven if I am not sorry?” What has come over you? The words are bold, foreign on your lips - but you mean them, pulling him back to kiss him again.

He’s so warm, and his grip only tightens at your words. You - you want to succumb to those desires, to the sin in your heart that was for him and him alone.

“Guilt. Shame.” The man muses. “Shame, our punishment for trusting the snake. And yet - Solomon called his lover a garden, beautiful….decadent. Perhaps the garden of eden was like his lover - “

“The garden hid the original sin.” Sin, his hands leaving yours to grasp at his belt - the snap of it in the empty air. Sin, him pulling you forward, onto your feet, bruising lips, bruising fingertips on your thighs, as he drug you forward, pressing you against the altar, the sacredest of spaces. “Forbidden knowledge, is - is knowing you forbidden?” He’s the one on the ground now, on his knees in front of you. “Is it - father?”

“Taehyung.” He grabs at his clerical collar, the white tossed to the ground as he parts your legs. “I am touching you as a man, not as a priest.”

“Maybe you should touch me as a priest.” You can feel him tense. “Consecrate my body, drink of me until we are both holy.”

“Sacrilege.” He speaks, pulling down your skirt. “And in the house of God no less.”

“If you will fuck me on the altar, why shouldn’t you -“

“It’s the Song of Solomon.” He interrupts you, nimble fingers pulling at sheer fabric, the only barrier between you and him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“You - you want to finish the recitation?” He nods, barely perceptible, the sound of his voice as he tugs your sheer underwear down your legs, slowly - so slowly, taking time like he had done with your shirt.

“Your channel is an orchard of pomegranates with all choicest fruits, henna with nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,” Your underwear hangs around tense ankles now, gaze trained on him. “with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, with all chief spices– a garden fountain, a well of living water, and flowing streams from Lebanon.” He sounds amused, even as he touches you, your sacred space. “A channel, a fountain, ripe fruit for the picking, d’you know of the love Solomon is speaking?”

“Carnal…” that answer was easy. “Desire - carnal love.”

“More than that, he speaks of this.” A finger, swirling against you, sliding into that part of you you were told not to touch...not that you followed that rule.

Perhaps that was a sin you could confess to. “Of this act, pleasuring you, and who am I not to follow the words of that famous king...and worship at your font - your well, your garden, till your juices drip down my chin like pomegranate juice.

“Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat its choicest fruits…” You speak, remembering the line even without the bible in your hands. “Please Taehyung…” Your hands grip the altar table, bunching the embroidered cloth under your grip.

He’s worshipping you, you’re sure of it, with tongue and teeth. It's messy, and he’s not shy, those lips that could stir a congregation with their sweetness, his golden tongue - now they were on you, fingers still in you to the hilt.

It is not quiet, either. Your gasps barely muffled, the wet, lurid sounds he was drawing from your body echoing in the room.

How often had you sat in those pews in front of you, how often had you knelt, gazing up at this very altar, bated breath as the transfiguration took place, over and over.

Now you are transfigured - you will never be the same after tonight, even if you want to be. But there can be no regrets as he murmurs your name against your thighs. As he makes you tremble and gasp, tensing under his touch, falling apart like the walls of Jericho, turning to dust in the wake of his fervent, ardent desire.

“How graceful are your feet in sandals, O queenly maiden! Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of a master hand.” Slick fingers grip at your thighs, ruddied cheeks meeting your gaze as you pass your tongue over your lips. His mouth - it's wet, and that makes you blush...though you aren’t sure why at this point.

This is adultery, you muse, and of the worst kind. Taehyung is a priest, he’s married to the Church, and yet...and yet it's not communion wine smeared across his lips...no...he’s ripe for kissing with your essence glossed against his skin.

“Your navel is a rounded bowl that never lacks mixed wine. Your belly is a heap of wheat, encircled with lilies.” He’s mouthing across the skin of your stomach, up and up, till he’s standing again, hands at your breasts, gentle kisses more heated the closer he gets to your mouth.

“T-Taehyung.” Your soft murmur of his name breaks his recitations, but only for a moment, his gaze altogether too hungry to be kept occupied for long. “Please - “ Please what? Please what to this beautiful man, who has already given you so much.

Please more - please don’t stop - please love me.

“Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is like an ivory tower.” Your neck falls victim to this trap all too easily, tilting to the side as his pretty lips press against it, as teeth mark your skin. It’s painful in a way that pleases you, your body still a shudder of pleasure and desire. “Your eyes are pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim. Your nose is like a tower of Lebanon, overlooking Damascus….” Why is his gaze so sweet? The words barely process as his fingertips ghost over your face, as his lips brush your forehead.

“Your head crowns you like Carmel….How fair and pleasant you are, O loved one, delectable maiden, You are stately as a palm tree...and your kisses like the best wine that goes down smoothly, gliding over lips and teeth.” He’s skipping verses, you realize, and he’s asking you for something, something you give. Kisses, like wine, your mouth against his, soft and gentle, and then more.

This time it is you, it is you touching him, hands unbuttoning his pants, ghosting over the heaviness there.

“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me…” You hear his half gasp as you cup him, and you wonder how long it's been since he’s touched a woman. Are you the first one since he left for seminary? Since he returned back to your little town, a man fully grown, to find that he wasn’t the only one who had changed.

“I-It is.” The man’s words, they’re darling, even as he’s grasping your hands, pulling them away from him, from his cock - out and hard, beautiful too - even as he’s letting you tangle your hands in his hair, biting at his lower lip. “It's for you.” There is no guile in his tone, nothing in his eyes but honest desire. “For you - I’ll break my vows, over and over.”

“Come, my beloved…” Your words are choked with emotion, and then cut off completely, because it's him - hot, inside of you. You wonder if he’s surprised that you don’t come to him a fresh and blushing bride, a virgin. But you both have changed, you remind yourself.

And those changes had brought you here.

“I’ll be the one to say that.” He grips at your thighs, his strokes as sure and steady as him. Taehyung was the earth beneath your feet, and - and he was the wind in your hair, the air in your lungs, his touches now - heaven sent.

You know it now: Taehyung is an angel in disguise. Perhaps he’d strike you down when it was all done, for your sins. And you’d gladly go, if it meant this was the last feeling you had, you could die in his arms and spend the rest of your days in hellfire, or in the cold quiet of purgatory - wandering as a wraith, if it meant that he would keep looking at you this way.

“S-say what?” You stammer, pulling him closer, so close to you, barely caring that he was fully clothed, and you were stark and nude. It seems fitting. Of course you should bare yourself to your priest, haven’t you done it to him countless times before in the confessional booth? Baring your soul and sins out for him to see.

To forgive.

Your thoughts are idle, and he is murmuring sweetness into your ear, golden tongue - the snake in the garden. No, Taehyung is no snake dripping poison on your tongue. Taehyung is just as much lost soul as you are. You feel so hot under his touch, sensitive, full - on the precipice of it all.

“Come, my beloved.” His voice is almost as amused as it is desperate. “Come…” And you were falling, falling against him, letting him hold you as you trembled. “Come and there I will give you my love.” Love, in spurts and a muffled moan, his body staggering against you, pressing you further into the altar table.

“Love…” You murmur, breath returning to normal as he pulls away from you. “The love of God to man, or the love of Solomon to his queen?”

“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” Taehyung answers, ever cryptic. His touch is still warm as he helps you put your clothes back on, touch slow, gentle as he re-buttons your shirt, as he uses your underwear to clean the drips of arousal from the floor. “We are called to love the church as God loves us. But i’m called to love you...like Solomon loved his woman.” It’s a peck to your forehead, you watch him pocket the sheer material, and this is as much of a confession as you expect, surprised when he pulls you in for a gentle kiss, fingers entwining with your own.“Whatever it means, I won’t deny it, even in death, it will be your name on my lips.”

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millymolly · 2 years

Text

1:34 pm

notes: gn!reader. eid mubarak to everyone who celebrates, wrote this in honour of me getting my henna done.

warnings: none.

Hyunjin’s tongue stuck out in concentration as he squeezed the henna paste onto a piece of paper. He was practicing because he “didn’t want to mess up when he did your hands.” The paper had flowers, swirls and dots drawn in intricate, hypnotising patterns. The sweet earthy smell of the paste permeated the air. When he deemed his drawings good enough, he nodded to you and you held out your hand towards him. He placed your hand atop the coffee table, you were sat on the couch and him on the floor. He mentally planned out his pattern: a flower at the centre to branch out towards your forefinger, the flower would then connect to a band around your wrist and your other fingers would all share the same pattern of leaves and flowers. You smiled at the tickly sensation of the paste on your skin. His breath blew on your hand as he leant closer, his eyes concentrated on the pattern forming. His long hair was tied back as to not distract him. The orange paste left splotches against his fingertips when he wiped away lines that became too thick or dots that looked out of place. He periodically wiped the tip of the tube onto a napkin to prevent it from clogging. According to the instructions, the paste would darken over the course of two days; from pumpkin orange to a dark red. You hummed as he worked, enjoying spending time with him. He was almost finished with your right hand by now, adding a few small flowers around the main design, just to fill space. He beamed up at you when he was finished, “Do you like it?” You pretended to think about it for a bit, laughing when he pouted. “Its beautiful baby. Thank you.” Hyunjin smiled at you, his eyes turning to crescents. He took another tube of henna and reached out for your other hand, “Okay, let’s finish this.” © goldenlixie 2022 do not plagiarize, edit or repost.

#skz.milly #timestamps.milly #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin skz #hyunjin.milly #skz #eid mubarak

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the-iron-orchid · 3 years

Note

36 (face-sitting) for Jinana & Turel?

(weeks later) OK, so this one may have... gotten away from me a little....

Title: Without Words

Pairing: Jinana/Turel, ~2460 words

Warnings: Bodyworship, facesitting, mild domination, mild biting, masturbation

Synopsis: A foraging trip for Jinana becomes an alfresco tryst with Turel.

Notes: A follow-up to The Sound of Distant Thunder.

🔞🍋18+ Only! Minors DNI 🍋🔞

Jinana has been finding more time to be in the forests around Vesuvia of late, wildcrafting herbs for the shop and goods for the kitchen. This time of year, one may find king boletes, hen-of-the-woods, and even chanterelles amid the trees and mosses, and pine nuts abound.

Of course, there is another reason s/he has been making the time to explore the wilds, often with Anjali in tow (when the sky does not promise rain). S/he never quite knows where or when, but sometimes s/he will encounter the peculiar giant of a man s/he once found amid the falling rain, sitting silent and still as a stone.

Turel is a craftsman, a maker of things, his huge hands capable of finer and more delicate work than one might expect; Jinana knows just how delicate and fine that touch can be. S/he isn’t quite certain how to define what is between them - it is something born of the strange magic of being in wild places, and the way two people can sometimes read one another’s unconscious cues. Very often they will go with less than a handful of words exchanged, but communicating all the same.

There is something about him that is so soothing to hir, his energy a deep and steady current, in such contrast to the restless, chaotic energy that crackles through hir being. But when they are together, it’s as if hir own energy slows its pace to match his - the way a heartbeat might, or breathing.

Today it is cool and misty, and Jinana draws hir shawl more closely about hirself as s/he casts hir glance over the trees, looking for distinctive fungal formations. Ah, there… a mass of delicately frilled shapes clustered at the base of a tree. S/he slips hir gathering knife from hir pocket and bends down to harvest the fruiting body of the mushrooms.

When s/he rises again, s/he is only mildly surprised to find that s/he is being watched with silent interest. Jinana smiles and offers some of the bounty s/he’s just gathered; there’s plenty about. But Turel declines with a gesture and a small smile; instead, he beckons hir to follow. Intrigued, s/he does.

It’s a fine walk; they cross a couple of small streams, and Jinana mentally marks the location of a few persimmon trees. Right now their fruit will be astringent, but as fall deepens they will sweeten. They come to a part of the forest where firs congregate, and Jinana gathers some of the fragrant needles for teas and bath herbs.

Turel hunkers down at the base of a stand of trees, indicating little cleared spots in the leaf litter, probably the work of animals. Jinana, too, peers down at this. Summoning hir mage hand spell, s/he pushes the debris aside with a gesture. Beneath, s/he can just see three paler objects poking out of the dirt. Curious, s/he uses the same magical force to dig them out.

They are small white truffles, growing amid the roots of the trees, a true treasure of the forest. Jinana indicates with a tap to hir lips and a small wink that s/he will preserve this secret.

They spend some time in companionable silence, absorbed in the hunt for the elusive fungi. S/he takes only as much as s/he and Heron will be able to use; the delicious life-span of a truffle is finite, after all.

With the bounty secured in hir gathering basket, Jinana takes a moment to sit back against the trunk of a tree, watching ants trailing their way across the roots. S/he had almost forgotten how soothing and restorative it could be just to sit quietly in nature; humankind has tried so hard to distance itself from such things. Spending these brief times with Turel has re-taught hir the lesson that even a magician - perhaps especially a magician - is at their best when they take a moment to reconnect with the natural world.

Closing hir eyes, s/he reaches out with hir othersense, feeling the life that surrounds hir. The tree at hir back, hundreds of years old but thrumming with vigor, sharing its strength with its fellows through some mysterious web of connection. The ants’ nest below the ground, seething with activity and purpose. Squirrels, birds, insects… it is a vast jeweled net of living things, each with their own energy.

And s/he feels Turel’s energy, familiar to hir now, at once entirely harmonious and very different to that which surrounds them. S/he has not asked, but s/he suspects that, like the tree, he is a being of centuries, and perhaps more. Human, and perhaps not human… but human enough.

It is his energy which announces his approach, for his step is very light for one of such size. He seats himself next to hir, and Jinana leans lightly against his side, letting the contact ground hir in every way. S/he fancies that s/he can feel the wild magic that swirls and leaps within hir coming to rest, settling like water in a bottle.

They stay like this for a time, a sort of meditation. When s/he opens hir eyes again, s/he feels calm, refreshed, even invigorated. S/he sees that while hir senses were elsewhere, a large mantis has taken up a position on Turel’s knee; seeing hir move, it spreads its wings in a defensive posture. The absurdity of it makes hir laugh, and this proves too much; the insect takes sudden flight.

It feels good to laugh. It feels good to be out of the city, in the greenness and the mist, away from it all. It feels good to be right here, in this moment, resting against the calming solidity of Turel’s body. He seems somehow more solid, more real than anything else, in a way that Jinana cannot explain.

Turel’s quiet answering chuckle is less a thing heard than a thing felt. Moving with a certain deliberation, he lifts one hand, gently running the backs of his fingers along hir jawline. The gesture is a question, one that Jinana answers by rising to hir feet, standing before him. S/he reaches out and tips his chin upward, bending down slightly to place a kiss upon his lips - he is so large that were he to kneel, still he would tower over hir. It is only when he is seated like this that s/he can reach him at all.

It is because of this difference, and because of Jinana’s own inclinations, that he yields to hir in these things. Jinana knows perfectly well that this is but a thing permitted, because it suits him to do so. But there is something thrilling in feeling such strength held in check, in commanding that strength for hir pleasure, however temporarily.

S/he runs hir fingers along Turel’s jawline as s/he pulls away, then grins and makes a particular gesture, speaking the words of magic under hir breath. S/he rises easily from the ground, levitating hirself to where s/he can be seated upon a nearby branch, more than hir own height off the ground. Smiling, s/he beckons with one hand.

Turel rising from a seated position is a sight in itself; it almost seems as if he will never stop rising, until finally his full height is reached. He steps over to where Jinana reaches hir hand out to him, palm-up. He takes the hand in his, where it immediately seems lost. He presses his lips to the flower of henna on hir palm, looking very slightly up at hir with amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Jinana laughs in return, the sound becoming a sigh as he places a kiss on the inside of hir wrist. His eyes on hir are unblinking as he works his way up hir arm in a slow, steady trail of kisses and caresses. S/he has become accustomed to this unwavering gaze, the way he regards all things. S/he loves watching the way those eyes change with desire, their darkness deepening.

Turel reaches hir shoulder, the side of hir neck, and as he draws back to choose the next part of hir that he will give his attention to, Jinana leans forward to kiss him again. S/he parts hir lips, feeling him answer the deepening of the kiss with tremendous gentleness... but no lack of heat.

When s/he releases him once more, he continues his journey down the other arm, ending at the matching henna-traced flower in hir other palm. He then begins anew at the henna that graces the top of one foot, hir ankle, traveling up hir leg, his hands pushing up the fabric of hir skirt before him. Teasingly, Jinana keeps hir thighs pressed together; s/he knows what he wants, and he knows the game they are playing.

Only when Turel has made his way back down the other side does Jinana relax the tension in hir legs, allowing them to part. His huge hands skim up hir thighs, over hir hips in the bunched-up fabric of hir skirt. They come to rest at hir waist, long fingers wrapping around hir ribcage. It isn’t hard to feel the strength in those hands, and s/he gives a small shiver of delight.

“Lie down,” she tells him. To hir surprise, he brings hir with him, lifting hir effortlessly from the branch. Cheeky. But he lies down on his back on the mossy forest floor, and places Jinana so that s/he straddles his chest, his hands moving lightly over hir legs. S/he leans in once more, savoring a long, unhurried kiss. Then she lifts hirself up, bunching the skirt around hir hips and waist as s/he kneels over him, slowly bringing hirself within reach of his waiting mouth.

Turel’s lips are full and soft; his tongue is like an instrument of divinity. He explores hir differently with every caress, seeking out every source of pleasure. Jinana tucks hir skirt into place so s/he can thread hir fingers between his locs, hir hips starting to move of their own volition.

S/he tips hir head back, moaning softly; he needs no further encouragement, no verbal cues. His lips and wonderful tongue move with hir, giving more when the movements of her body demand it, backing off when s/he lifts herself away, drawing it out a little.

But it feels so good that s/he sees no reason to deny hirself for long, and the difference in their sizes frees hir to grind hirself against his face with abandon, moaning aloud with pleasure. His soft answering sounds are so deep that s/he feels them resonate through hir body, and this, too, adds to the sensation. S/he has no idea exactly what it is that he is doing with his tongue, only that it feels incredible. S/he grips the long locs of his head, lost to both moderation and reason as she feels hirself rising and rising, a split second of weightlessness… and then the great breakers of orgasm roll over hir, drowning hir in pleasure. S/he can hear hir own voice crying out, startling some small creature that dashes away through the underbrush.

But that isn’t the end of it; Turel is both patient, and very clever. His hands rest on hir hips, encouraging hir to stay, to take hir pleasure from him again… and again. When Jinana is finally released from the grip of ecstasy for the third time, she can feel hir legs trembling almost uselessly to either side of his head, barely able to hold hir up. After giving a final few kisses to the tender skin of the insides of hir thighs, Turel assists hir to rise.

Jinana laughs at the wobbliness of hir own legs as s/he untucks hir skirt, letting it fall to cover hir once more. S/he seats hirself on the soft moss, urging Turel to rest his head in hir lap. S/he bends down to kiss him once again, upside-down; the sutras of the art of love say that the greatest pleasure of the kiss is when both may kiss the fullness of the lower lip. Jinana cannot resist sinking hir teeth into the plumpness of his lower lip, just a little, before raising hir head again.

Of course, he has been holding his own desire in check, while s/he rode him to hir satisfaction. S/he thinks that s/he would very much like to see him bound in silken ropes, to leisurely play the games of endurance that s/he favors... but alas, the wilds are not ideal for such things. Still, there are other diversions to be had.

“Touch yourself for me,” she murmurs with a smile, arranging the locs around his face with gentle fingers. “I want to see.”

S/he is fairly certain there is nothing s/he could say or ask for that would shock Turel. He gives hir the impression of being… not jaded or weary, but well-experienced, one who has seen it all and still finds wonder in the world.

It’s a lesson s/he could stand to learn.

Jinana bends once more to visit soft kisses to his cheeks and forehead, sharper kisses to his lips and chin, as he eases himself from his clothing to hir view. S/he runs hir hands over his chest, amused by how tiny they appear upon him, feeling the very slight raising of the skin over the tattoos beneath hir fingertips.

S/he continues to visit kisses and caresses as he strokes himself, his eyes finally sliding closed to shut himself in with the sensations. Jinana places kisses here, too, with exquisite lightness, feeling the faint trembling of each shuttered lid under hir lips.

He is quiet in this, too, as in all things. His body moves gently against the ground beneath him, cushioned by the thick moss. Jinana watches, fascinated, a part of hir taking note of what causes him to sigh, to move a little faster (though, as in all things, he is unhurried in this too).

The sounds he makes are quiet, but Jinana feels them transmit themselves through hir thighs, through the very ground. S/he watches his face change with his pleasure, until climax crests through his body, too, shuddering beneath hir hands.

Jinana continues to cradle his head in hir lap as he relaxes, still gifting him those little gestures of affection, because it pleases hir to do so. And when Turel’s eyes open again, s/he smiles down at him.

There is no need for words.

#ask memes answered #lemon #turel #jinana x turel #Giant Forest Cryptid #fullyfunctionalapprentice #smuts!

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Until My Heart Stops Racing

Pairing: Mitch x Mike (or Bitch as I like to call them, ya know cause Believe x Mitch.....nvm lol)

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

Note: This was a commission for the wonderful @lisathefan who gave me the cutest prompt and I know she loves her crack ships. I hope you enjoy my dear and thanks to my beta, Faxx for helping me!

Word count: 5538

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The car whipped into the parking space, dirt flying around us and I felt my heart rate finally go back to its normal beating. I looked over to Butch who had a goofy grin and ignoring everything he just did.

“Butch your driving is terrible. Now I get why you fly everywhere.” I groaned as I finally got out of the car. “I swear if Brick saw how you drove this thing... actually I don’t want to think about it.” I thought that speeding was illegal but apparently if the cops can’t even see your car, it's a free pass. And being in touch with the puffs might be a bonus we all have.

Butch let out a laugh before locking the car. “Relaxe Mike, what Brick doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He shrugged and sometimes I wondered how he could even say that. Brick could kill someone with just a glance but when you are a superhuman, and his brother, maybe the effect doesn’t work.

Maybe I should ask Blossom about that.

The beeping of other cars brought me out of my trance as I followed him on the dirt path.

“Anyways, why did you drag me all the way out here?” I turned to see the lights and the signs. “The fair?”

In front of me was the entrance to what could only be deemed as a somehow legal way to make people shell out three hundred dollars on cheap food and even cheaper ride systems. Every kid wanted to go to the fair and, yeah, it was fun when you were five, but now that we had just graduated high school, it seemed more dangerous than fun.

“Yeah, why not?”

I glanced at him and he only smiled widely but something in his eyes had mischief written all over it. “What's the deal?”

He sighed and smirked.

“A little birdy told me you got heart eyes for a certain someone.” Butch threw his arm around my shoulder. “And as the king of romance, I’m gonna help you out.”

Theres always a small tinge of fear whenever Butch gets an idea. It either ends badly where someone gets hurt, usually him or bad in the way that we all get in trouble and the notorious Powerpuff Girls have to get us out of it. But this...this was much worse.

“Butch, what did you do?” I said through gritted teeth. He only laughed at me instead of answering and pushed up towards the gates.

“Relax. Look they are here.” He pointed.

I followed his sight and walking up towards us was Buttercup, Robin and Mitch. Butch let out another laugh, probably because he could hear my heartbeat. Fuck superhearing. Of course Robin opened her mouth. You tell a girl while you’re throwing up that you have the biggest crush on your best friend who wears dark leather, has piercings and makes your heart swoon and think that she can keep her mouth shut. But no, she can’t.

“Hey guys.” Butch waves to him before leaving me to wrap his arms around Buttercup and ignore the public by kissing her square on the lips. PDA is always gross unless you’re the one doing it, so I can’t blame them. Also it's funny to watch her smack his arm.

“Sup Mikey.” Robin smiles smugly. Little demon.

“Hey. Hi Mitch.” He gives me a wave and a nod of the head and I have to mentally tell myself not to blush. Stupid hormons.

“Come on you two.” Robin says and grabs my arm and Mitch’s and forces us towards the carnival’s entrance. “Lets go!”

One of the perks to being besties with the puffs is the mass amount of freebies. Buttercup swiftly pulled out a ticket for each of us and handed it to the ticket collector.

“Sweet, free entrance.” Mitch smiled at me and held up his hand for a fist bump.

I gladly returned the gesture and every time I did so, I wondered if he could feel the electric spark between us. God, I need to stop reading romance novels.

“Alright losers. We’ll see you all later tonight, meet up for fireworks at 9?” Buttercup said and apparently everyone already had a plan that I was not aware of.

“Sounds good to me!” Butch smirked. “BC and I are going to do coupley stuff no one wants to see and Robin said something about henna soooooo.” He looked at me. “Guess Mitchy boy and Mikey are on their own.” I didn’t miss his wink and before I could protest, everyone was walking away.

My mind was now racing as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I realized in this moment that the group had ganged up on us, well specifically me. Mitch probably didn’t even think twice as the group broke up but they were out of their minds if they thought something was going to happen.

“Wanna hit the rides?” He asked.

I take a breath before nodding. We turn into the direction of the ride area and I have to remind myself that he is just a friend. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less. I usually have my emotions in check but for some reason, they want to act up now. All I have to do is get through tonight without embarrassing myself or giving Butch the satisfation of him being the king of romance. As if that were possible.

The area is buzzing with so much energy. There’s little kids whining and screams coming from the various rides. The smells of corn dogs, popcorn and, oddly enough, waffles mixed in the air and I can’t tell if it smells good or not but I know my pockets are gonna be much lighter by the end of the night.

We get into the shortest line for the tickets and it's truly a scam that each ride is a separate cost.

“I don’t feel like dying tonight so I think two rides is good for me.” Mitch says and I laugh a little because it's true. Just watching the swings makes me feel like one of them unhinge and plummet to the ground but that's what I get for being a paranoid person.

“I feel you. How about the rollercoaster and ummm... the spinning ride?” I suggest.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles and god fucking dammit, those damn dimples.

The line moves as we chat about the newest horror movie coming into theaters and how Mitch saw a certain pair of redheads making out in a car.

“Wait for real?”

“I swear to god dude.” He raised his hand. “Unless some other chick wears a big ass bow, it has to be them.”

“Interesting.” I smile and soon we get called next.

“Hi there boys, how many tickets can I get ya?” the older woman asks.

“Ten.” Mitch says and I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet, that may or may not have a photo of all of our friends and definitely not for the reason that I can see his face at any given time, but Mitch stops me and places the cash in the tin. “I got it.” he says casually and something inside me felt all warm and fuzzy as the row of blue tickets was handed to him.

“Have a nice date night.” The woman says as we walk away and I almost do a double take thinking I heard her wrong. But when I look over to Mitch, he seems unaffected by the words so I just let it slide.

The rollercoaster isn’t as grand or cool as the ones at the theme park, it doesn’t even go upside down but it has a good bit of hills and bumps to give some air time so i guess it will do. The only problem is that these workers don’t care and make Mitch and I sit in the same cart as these two younger kids.

After we get the bars onto us, the ride starts to go. In front of us the girl grabs the boy's arm and I give a small eye roll as we start to climb the lift hill.

“Babe I'm scared.” She cries and he wraps an arm around her shoulders and I’ve never been so jealous of middle schoolers before.

“These carts are so damn small.” Mitch complains. And it's true. The two of us squished in this together leaves no space for our arms. The pressure of our shoulders touching isn’t too bad but it's to the point it almost hurts. “Hold on.” He says and I feel him pull his right arm away from mine and throw it behind us. “Sorry this is better.”

“No, it's cool bro.” I say even though I realize that this boy really just made it ten times harder to breath now.

I can barely grasp my surroundings as the rollercoaster takes its first turn before the drop. I can see the ending of the track as we go down but the only thing my brain is processing is the fingers tightening on my shoulder.

“Holy shit.” I mumble hoping that Mitch doesn’t know how he's affecting me.

We let out screams and shouts as we go up and down, flying around on the track and I try to enjoy myself, I really do. Before long, it's over and Mitch reaches his hand out to help me up and I take it with silence.

“That was fun.” He smiles and I am really happy he ignored his moms protests and got that lip piercing. It suits him.

“Yeah.” Is all I can muster and he gives me a look before walking towards the next ride.

Luckily as we enter this ride, there’s more room. Only our knees touch as we buckle in the seatbelt and I feel myself being able to breathe better.

“Good thing we didn’t eat before getting on here.” I laugh as the lights start to flash.

He snorts and nods. “Robin would have blown chunks either way.”

The ride is a simple circular track with small hills. All it does is follow the path and goes around pretty fast. Simple but a classic. The music begins and soon we feel the cart shift. I'm sitting on the right while Mitch is on the left, next to the exit and he wiggles off his black beanie just for good measure. His light brown hair, slightly damaged from dying it black back in freshman year, is ruffled from hat hair and my god is it cute.

“Fucking love this ride.” Mitch smiles and it begins to pick up the pace.

Soon, we are at full speed, which is fine. Perfectly fine. Except for the fact that the gravity from the ride is pulling me towards Mitch and no matter how tight I hold on, I end up smacked against him. Shoulders touching and I can clearly smell his cologne. It's the scent of sandalwood and campfire and my god does it smell heavenly. Men just smell like nature and I am more than okay with that.

But Mitch doesn’t mind, because why would he? Instead he's laughing and truly enjoying the ride. I smile and laugh too because honestly, it's just fun to spend time with him. The ride is over faster than I wanted and we hop off, slightly dizzy and I walk a little out of line but he catches my arm and pulls me to him.

“Easy dude.” He chuckles and I nudge him playfully and ruffle his hair before he plops on his beanie. Goodbye cute hat hair.

All of a sudden, my shoulder is hit. It was a pretty hard smack and my body jolted to the side as Mitch grabbed me from falling.

“Look a bunch of homos.” I look up and realize that it's some assholes from our school.

Duke Jones and Mark Dalton. Some of the few people who actually try to be douchebags on the regular.

My eyes do heavy eye rolls and I want to scream at them but I've never been a confronting person. My voice is in my throat but Mitch takes a step forward, his hand never leaving my arm.

“And what of it? Really dudes? You think some lame insult is gonna hurt our feelings. You’re lucky I don’t just kick your ass, better enough I can call Buttercup in a second and have your bodies all the way across this place. Grow the fuck up and maybe don’t choke on your toxic masculanity.” He sneered and sometimes I forget that Mitch can be pretty intimidating.

Their eyes widened as Mitch pulled out his phone to show BC’s number. They mutter something before turning and rushing off in a hurry.

“You okay?” He asks me.

“Yeah.” I say. “Sorry you got caught in that.”

“It's not a big deal.”

But it is. It's not a secret that I'm out and proud. Yeah its cool and all to not have to be closeted, even Princess came out last year so its nice to know that someone higher up won’t pick on me, but even then, it sucks. No matter where I go in life, someone will be there with a flame thrower of slurs or anger for something I didn’t choose. As for Mitch, theres something about him being called gay and him not having a hissy fit about it that makes me feel safe. Uhh fuck.

I take a second to recollect myself and Mitch just pulls me from the herds of eyes that saw that fiasco.

“Lets go here.” He points to the hall of mirrors and for some reason it's beginning to get extremely hard to be around him.

But I take a deep breath and push those feelings to the side once again.

The hall of mirrors was by far the lamest thing the fair could have done. Sure, as a little kid it was cool and slightly scary but now, all of our heads could see just above the tips of the mirrors making it lose the effect. It probably would have been more fun if the others were there. Butch would hide behind the mirros trying to scare us before Buttercup sent some lasers his way causing them to bounce everywhere and making us duck and cover. Good times. However, it was just Mitch and me.

While Mitch was walking, I couldn’t stop thinking about those jerks just now. Of course everyone already knew about my preference but Mitch seemed unbothered by being referred to as gay. Probably because he's not some asshole that thinks it's a bad thing, I mean if he did, why would he be friends with me for all this time? He’s just a good person, that's all.

Not to sound like the coming of age kid, but I knew I was into dudes before I could comprehend the idea of love or romance, I just thought they were pretty to look at. Moving to a new city at such a young age was hard for me, not to mention the whole invisible friend that tried to kill everyone. But after everything was said and done, I did in fact make some friends.

The famous superheroes had become my pals and when Buttercup introduced me to Mitch, I think that's when it all went downhill. We became the dynamic duo and everyone always paired us as the best friends, which is true but...it makes me feel guilty.

He turned a corner and I stopped walking. All of a sudden I was lost and staring at a mirror. Just me in my beat up sneakers and the uncertain face I seem to be wearing a lot lately. There's always a time in your life where you stop and contemplate everything, question all your decisions and how nothing truly matters.

“Hey you stopped walking?” Mitch said to me and I looked at him with a shaky smile.

“Sorry. Lost in thought I guess.”

“Care to share?” He asked and leaned against one of the mirrors.

I laughed to myself thinking about what I could possibly say. “Yeah sure Mitch, why don’t I just tell you that I’m in love with you and how it pains me to wake up to know that you will only see me as just a friend. Why don’t I just rip out my heart and put it on a silver platter for you to squash or just confess and kiss you here, ignoring all the states and hopefully pissing off some people?”

“...What?”

My eyes shot open and my eyes met his. He looked at me with confusion and shock. His mouth hung open slightly and it took me a solid three seconds to relaize that my dumb ass had just blurted that all out.

Panic. That's all I could feel as he stared like a deer caught in headlights. I could feel myself on the verge of tears and suddenly the air was too thick as I turned and ran, not caring about the employee telling me I was going the wrong way.

Mitch’s voice echoed behind me but I couldn’t stand to turn and look towards him. To hear the pure rejection and probably the disgust. Throwing away years of friendship for some stupid feelings? What was I thinking?

After nearly hitting my head several times, I made it out and ignored the weird stares and glances people were giving me. All I wanted to do was find Butch and get out of here and hope that I can just pack up and move away for college. Maybe even change my name.

Instead I found myself pushing my way into the bathroom stall and biting my arm to stifle my sobs. I felt like my heart was about to shatter, that all my nightmares where coming true all thanks to my stupid mouth. I was a fool to think that someone like him would even consider me as something more, a complete and utter fool.

“Mike?” A voice called and of course the sneakers peaking outside the stall belonged to Butch.

“What?” I spat bitterly. “Go away.”

I barely heard his sigh. “Dude, I don’t know what happened but suddenly Buttercup saw you burst into here. Really dude, is everything fine? At least come out and talk to us. Plus it smells really bad in here and there's a line of dudes.”

There's some truth to the matter and I wiped my face and pushed open the stall with a little too much force but luckily he grabbed it and just nodded towards the exit.

Robin and Buttercup are standing outside and luckily, I don’t see Mitch.

“Wanna explain what happened?” Robin asks as she hands me a tissue from her purse.

“No. I just wanna go home.”

Buttercup looks arounds then back to me. “Where's Mitch.”

“Probably somewhere and never wants to see me again.” I mumble.

“What?” She asks and looks towards Butch then back to me.

Butch raised his brow. “Mike, did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Buttercup asked.

It was at that moment that Buttercup didn’t know that I was practically in love with her best friend. Maybe Robin and Butch planned this together but it didn’t matter, not anymore. I would be losing two friends after this. Great.

“Look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.” My throat is dry and it hurts and there's no doubt that my face is red and flushed with tears. “I'm just gonna call my mom to come get me.”

“Come on Mike don’t go.” Robin asked and she padded my arm.

“You don’t get it, Robin.” I spat. “You don’t understand what I just did. Thanks to someone’s dumb idea, I now lost my best friend. And for what? Did we really think he would like me back? That he could even see me in such a way? I don’t even know if he’s gay or let alone into dudes. But who gives fuck? I don’t.”

Butch took a step towards me but my anger only rose. “C’mon Mike I'm sure-”

“This was a stupid idea Butch!” I yelled and at that moment I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was embarrassed and hurt. “I just want to be alone.” I pushed past him and the others, ignoring everything they were saying because it didn’t matter any more.

It didn’t matter that my friends tried to help something that shouldn’t have even been considered. It was just a stupid crush. Nothing more, nothing less. Hopefully by the new semester, it would be gone and out of my system…. hopefully. A stupid crush that I’d been harboring for years and titling on a scale of something more.

It wasn’t long until my tears dried and I found myself among the section of carnival games. All of the rigged and hard to win and if you did win, it would be a small sappy prize that you would toss into a garbage bag or try to sell for a nickel at a garage sale.

There were darts and guessing the weight of a small pig. The basketball tossing and hitting the giant hammer looked tempting but instead I walked to the game that no one had ever won. Ring toss. A game of chance and so incredibly rigged, it's a miracle if one prize is won in a year.

Without a second thought, I gave up a fresh twenty dollar bill and the girl working, who clearly hated her job, handed me the biggest bucket of rings. Enough to keep me entertained until I call my mom or muster up enough courage to ask Butch for a ride back like a dog with its tail inbetween its legs.

I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could be okay with this. But I was stupid. Stupid to think that the boy I had a crush on, one of my best friends, would like me back, or even be into dudes for that matter. But no, instead of having my secret crush kept, ya know, a secret, the one person who shouldn’t know, did.

I tossed another ring into the sea of bottles, the high pitched clinking echoed for just a moment as another was tossed. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe trying to figure out feelings was a waste of time because in all honesty, I never knew.

Like the plastic rings people pay way too much for, you jump and you think you’ll land on that bottle, secure the prize and show everyone up. Prove that you can do the impossible.

But then you miss and reality comes back. The bucket dwindles down and soon you’re left with nothing but regret for trying and shorting eight bucks.

“Hey.”

I turned, of course he would follow me. Why wouldn’t he? He was probably here just to tell me to let it go and sweep it under the rug, and say it's not weird when it totally is. Or he was going to come out and say that maybe our friendship has come to its expiration date.

“Oh. Hey.” I threw another one, missing again.

I tried not to care as he stood next to me but I passed him the bucket and he took his own shot, missing, just like me.

“Have you been crying?” He asked and there was no way around it.

“Yep.” I popped the p and threw another ring. “Look Mitch, I’m sorry what I said-”

“Don’t be.”.

“Most guys would just push someone like me away if that happened.”

He hummed and tossed a ring, missing. “Well, I’m not like most guys and I thought that was pretty clear. Especially after those jerks. I value your friendship too much to get worried or upset.”

I looked over at him, and that in itself was a mistake, because it would be just my luck that the other carnival games with their bright flashing lights would surround him and make it seem like he was glowing. The lights soften his features, a small twinkle on the black orb of his earring and making those very so light freckles appear.

Almost like a painting hung up in a museum. You think the trip is boring, and for the most part it is. A few interesting things here and there but just as you are about to leave, you find a room you hadn’t explored. It could be nothing and you could leave, forgetting everything in the last three hours and moving on with your life.

Or it could be life changing. As if when you walked in there, the most captivating painting was on that wall and you wonder how you skipped it in the first place. You stare at it, taking in the picture itself and the meaning. Stepping closer and looking at the paint strokes, the time taken to make this is clear and it's full of questions and mystery. The small plaque on the wall fails to answer.

He picked up the last ring. It twirled in his fingertips unsure of where to go.

“I kept thinking, you know.” He said. “I remember watching a show, a random cartoon and an ad for a pride festival popped up. I thought nothing of it, didn’t know what it meant at the time but my father did. He was outraged and changed the channel, screamed and shouted saying that if his son ever was caught doing something like that…” Mitch paused and closed his palm.

I could see the hurt in his eyes as he sighed.

“Then he would have no son. So when I found out what it all meant and learned about myself....I thought it would be best to never act on it. No matter how much I wanted to look towards another guy, I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry Mitch, I didn’t know.” And it was the truth. I wanted to mentally slap myself for not realizing that he was, in fact, gay as well. Way to go Mike, your gay-dar is broken. But then again, you can’t just tell a sexuality clear as day. I can’t blame him for hiding it, after everything with his dad.

He sighed again. “But when you told me that. Told me you wanted me, I think I started to realize that I would rather have something I want no matter what others think of me. I envy how you can just come out and be proud, as you should, but I wish I was that brave instead of a coward.”

“Mitch.” I slid my hand on top of his cautiously. He didn’t flinch or have any indication of pulling away. “I’m scared every day. Scared that someone might yell something offensive or even try to hurt me. Just like those assholes did earlier.But I can’t stop those things from happening but I can choose to not let them affect me. It's hard but you know you’re surrounded by people who care about you. Plus your best friend is an actual superhero.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to date such a fuck up like me.”

Fuck up? Did this boy really think that?

“I would never see you as that.” I said honestly. “It's normal for us to have conflicting feelings when someone in our life isn't supportive. It's never gonna be a walk in the park or smooth sailing but when you're with someone who cares about you, it makes it easier.”

He sighed for the hundredth time. It was clear the gears in his mind were running at full steam and he looked at the ring in his hand then to the bottles.

“I guess you’re right Mike. I guess I was thrown off that the dude I've liked since kindergarten likes me back.” He looked towards me and tossed the ring, not bothering to pay attention. “I just hope you haven't changed you mind-”

The next thing I know, my hand is tugging on his worn leather collar and his lips are pressed to mine.

I never thought that my first kiss would be as enchanting as this. You always think it's magical and fulfilling but in reality it's probably a mess of lips that don’t move quite as well and somehow there's a tongue doing whatever it wants. I guess I can’t count this as my first kiss because Robin had peaked me on the lips in third grade, also giving me the clear sexual awakening of how I never want another woman to come near me again, but this was different.

He tasted like cotton candy which I should find gross and oddly weird but I didn’t mind one bit. At the beginning there was a bit of hesitation, or maybe he was caught off guard since I did interrupt him but I couldn’t help myself. Stupid hormones. He wasted no time kissing me back and I even felt a hand on my waist pulling towards him. Although it lasted only a few mere seconds, it was like a lifetime of waiting had lifted.

When we pulled apart, loud speakers and alarms went off above us. I looked towards the game, I noticed one single plastic ring was stuck on the bottle. The worker smiled at us before nodding.

“Wow, I can’t believe you made it, especially without looking.” She said and I looked to Mitch who just shrugged.

“What? You kissed me, I just threw it.” He smiled brightly and I hugged him.

“So what will it be?” I asked him and he turned towards the prizes.

“Well, what about that dinosaur?”

“I love dinosaurs.”

Mitch smiled. “I know.”

The worker used a ladder to climb and retrieve the massive blue dinosaur prize. As a kid, i used to dream of winning such a cool thing but know, I think I got something better. Mitch handed it to me with a blush and I looked at it with just as much pink on my cheeks.

“Ya know.” Mitch started. “I have enough tickets for one last ride. Maybe the ferris wheel?”

“That sounds good.” He reached out his hand and I took it. Before I could blink, I felt his lips press against my cheek.

“I don’t like to see you cry.” He said.

I simply hummed and we walked hand in hand to the ferris wheel before deciding to give the prize to some kids. He handed the tickets to the worker as we climbed into the cart and began to go up. He threw his arm over my shoulder like he did on the rollercoaster, but this time, I leaned against him and let those emotions I tried to keep at bay, run wild.

“I’m really glad Butch dragged me here.” I said honestly and Mitch only laughed and silenced me with his lips pressed against mine.

“Me too.”

When we pulled apart, a few questions still lingered in my mind.

“You mean, you’ve liked me this entire time? And you knew I was gay?” I asked hesitantly. It wasn’t a secret, the last part at least.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he's had since he was little. “I mean I wasn’t hundred percent sure, I thought maybe it was a one time thing or just happened occasionally. But as we got older, more specifically high school, I think that's when it hit me.” He sighed. “All I knew was that I wanted to be with you until my heart stopped racing.”

His eyes met mine. I’ve always hated when people didn’t see the beauty in brown eyes. They think they are dull and lifeless, only one hue but that's far from the truth. Mitch’s eyes had spots of gold and a slight tint of green, breathtaking to say the least.

“I mean it’s a shame we spent our high school years just as friends.” My hand went on top of his. “But I’d rather have you as my friend instead of losing you so I understand. But what about your dad? Will be okay with us dating-or well I assume we should-”

“I don’t care about his opinion of us. Plus we would be idiots not to date at this point. If he doesn’t accept. That's his loss not mine.” His gaze went to the sky where a firework exploded.

The colors lit up in the sky and we realized we got lucky as our cart stopped at the very top. It felt unreal to be sitting next to my best friend and now, boyfriend. There's always moments in your life that you feel like were meant to be. Maybe it's the career you chose or the person you marry. Milestones that are already set in stone and fate just happens to bring you together, all that stuff. And as I looked at him through heavy lashes I thought that maybe, just maybe, the stars aligned on this one.

That or I would have to admit that Butch is the king of romance, even though he did literally nothing today and this was all me. Either way, Mikey boy’s got a man.

I hope you enjoyed love!!

#Mitch x mike #mike x Mitch ppg #ppg #ppg fic #fanfic commissions

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faraway-wanderer · 4 years

Text

QUEER YA READS happy pride month here’s a list of lots of queer YA books!!

- The Henna Wars- Abida Jaigirdar When Nishat comes out to her parents, they say she can be anyone she wants—as long as she isn’t herself. Because Muslim girls aren’t lesbians. Nishat doesn’t want to hide who she is, but she also doesn’t want to lose her relationship with her family. And her life only gets harder once a childhood friend walks back into her life. Flávia is beautiful and charismatic and Nishat falls for her instantly. Amidst sabotage and school stress, their lives get more tangled—but Nishat can’t quite get rid of her crush on Flávia, and realizes there might be more to her than she realized

- Red, White and Royal Blue- Casey Mcquinston First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

- You should see me in a crown- Leah Johnson Liz Lighty has always believed she's too black, too poor, too awkward to shine in her small, rich, prom-obsessed midwestern town. But it's okay -- Liz has a plan that will get her out of Campbell, Indiana, forever: attend the uber-elite Pennington College, play in their world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor.But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz's plans come crashing down . . . until she's reminded of her school's scholarship for prom king and queen

- Tell me How you Really Feel- Aminah Mae Safi Sana Khan is a cheerleader and a straight A student. She's the classic (somewhat obnoxious) overachiever determined to win.Rachel Recht is a wannabe director who's obsesssed with movies and ready to make her own masterpiece. As she's casting her senior film project, she knows she's found the perfect lead - Sana.There's only one problem. Rachel hates Sana. Rachel was the first girl Sana ever asked out, but Rachel thought it was a cruel prank and has detested Sana ever since.

- Like a love story- Abdi Nazemian It's 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing.

- I Wish You All the Best- Mason Deaver At turns heartbreaking and joyous, I Wish You All the Best is both a celebration of life, friendship, and love, and a shining example of hope in the face of adversity.

- The Falling in Love Montage- Ciara Smyth Saoirse doesn’t believe in love at first sight or happy endings. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name and not in a care home with early onset dementia. A condition that Saoirse may one day turn out to have inherited. So she’s not looking for a relationship. She doesn’t see the point in igniting any romantic sparks if she’s bound to burn out. But after a chance encounter at an end-of-term house party, Saoirse is about to break her own rules. For a girl with one blue freckle, an irresistible sense of mischief, and a passion for rom-coms.

- The Fascinators- Andrew Eliopulos Living in a small town where magic is frowned upon, Sam needs his friends James and Delia—and their time together in their school's magic club—to see him through to graduation.But as soon as senior year starts, little cracks in their group begin to show. Sam may or may not be in love with James. Delia is growing more frustrated with their amateur magic club. And James reveals that he got mixed up with some sketchy magickers over the summer, putting a target on all their backs.

- The Dark Tide- Alicia Jaskina The Wicked Deep meets A Curse So Dark and Lonely in this gripping, dark fairy-tale fantasy about two girls who must choose between saving themselves, each other, or their sinking island city

- Summer of Salt – Katrina Leno Georgina Fernweh waits with growing impatience for the tingle of magic in her fingers—magic that has been passed down through every woman in her family. Her twin sister, Mary, already shows an ability to defy gravity. But with their eighteenth birthday looming at the end of this summer, Georgina fears her gift will never come.

- Sawkill Girls- Claire Legrand Marion: the new girl. Awkward and plain, steady and dependable. Weighed down by tragedy and hungry for love she’s sure she’ll never find. Zoey: the pariah. Luckless and lonely, hurting but hiding it. Aching with grief and dreaming of vanished girls. Maybe she’s broken—or maybe everyone else is. Val: the queen bee. Gorgeous and privileged, ruthless and regal. Words like silk and eyes like knives, a heart made of secrets and a mouth full of lies.

- The Priory of the Orange Tree- Samantha Shannon A world divided. A queendom without an heir. An ancient enemy awakens. The House of Berethnet has ruled Inys for a thousand years. Still unwed, Queen Sabran the Ninth must conceive a daughter to protect her realm from destruction – but assassins are getting closer to her door. Ead Duryan is an outsider at court. Though she has risen to the position of lady-in-waiting, she is loyal to a hidden society of mages. Ead keeps a watchful eye on Sabran, secretly protecting her with forbidden magic. Across the dark sea, Tané has trained to be a dragonrider since she was a child, but is forced to make a choice that could see her life unravel.

- I was Born for this- Alice Oseman For Angel Rahimi, life is only about one thing: The Ark – a pop-rock trio of teenage boys who are currently taking the world by storm. Being part of The Ark’s fandom has given her everything – her friendships, her dreams, her place in the world. Jimmy Kaga-Ricci owes everything to The Ark too. He’s their frontman – and playing in a band is all he’s ever dreamed of doing. It’s just a shame that recently everything in his life seems to have turned into a bit of a nightmare.

- Summer Bird Blue Akemi Dawn Bowman- Bowman’s sophomore novel follows Rumi, a young musician plagued with grief and survivor’s guilt after her younger sister is killed in a car crash. Her mother sends her to liver with her aunt in Hawaii, and is also now mourning the loss of the music she would create with her sister and is unable to recapture her passion. As she navigates her loss, and feelings of abandonment from her mother, Rumi is also starting new relationships with neighbors, one a cute, easygoing surfer boy, and the other a irascible 80-year-old crankypants, while also becoming comfortable with her aromantic and asexual feelings.An immersive aromantic, asexual journey through grief and understanding.

- Felix Ever after- Kacen Callender a novel about a transgender teen grappling with identity and self-discovery while falling in love for the first time.

- The Stars and The Blackness Between Them - Junauda Petrus Audre and Mabel, Black girls who find romance just in time for everything to fall even further apart.

- By any means necessary- Candice Montgomery By Any Means Neccesary dives into the intersection of race and sexuality through the lens of its main character, Torrey, a gay Black college student.

- Her Royal Highness -Rachel Hawkins- When Millie Quint discovers her best friend-turned-girlfriend has been kissing someone else, she decides to get as far away from her as possible – by going to boarding school on the opposite side of the globe. The only issue? Millie’s new roomate is the actual princess of Scotland.

- Tash Hearts Tolstoy - Kathryn Omsbee, Natasha Zelenka (Tash), is a serious fangirl of Leo Tolstoy and a rising YouTube star with her webseries Unhappy Families, a modern-day adaptation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Vlog, Tea with Tash. When a famous vlogger gives a shout out to the series, it goes viral. Now she, along with the cast and crew, are finding what it means to be a hit sensation and are managing the adoration, and the trolls, coming their way. Tash, a romantic asexual, has had a long time crush on the hit vlogger star Thom, who, as her online popular grows, so does Thom’s attention. Amidst the fame and romance, Tash is also dealing with her older sister creating distance, her parents announcing a new sibling on the way, college applications, the impending end of the series, and the big “What’s next.”An asexual romantic comedy coming of age.

- Full Disclosure- Camryn Garratt Camryn Garrett’s debut novel follows a Black, HIV-positive teen as she explores her first romantic relationship. There are few books that discuss what it’s like to live with HIV, especially those that are light, relatable, and told through the lens of a young Black girl.

- The Black Flamingo- Dean Atta Atta pens a coming-of-age story about a boy accepting his identity as a mixed-race gay teen, but then finds a place where he belongs as a drag artist named The Black Flamingo.

- Juniper Leaves- Jaz Joyner Kinky-haired Juniper Bray used to believe in magic, until she lost her best friend: her grandmother. Now this 15-year-old shy girl is headed to her father's research trip on a farm hundreds of miles away, with a family she barely knows and the opposite of a best friend, her new arch nemesis, Bree Mckinney. As if she wasn't miserable enough. Little does she know the next few months Juniper will discover magical powers she never knew she had, get a crush on a girl she never knew she'd like and well, quite frankly, save the world.

- Crier’s War - Nina Varela ‘In a world where humans are dominated by superior Automae, one human girl called Ayla takes the role of handmaiden to the Automae Lady Crier in order to help the human rebellion. But to Ayla’s horror, she finds herself falling for Crier.’

- Queen of Coin and Whispers Helen Corcoran -When a teenage queen inherits her uncle’s bankrupt kingdom, she brings with her a new spymaster – a girl who only accepted the role to avenge her murdered father. But faced with enemies at every turn, the two learn to rely on no one but each other . . . though it may bring their downfall.

- Huntress- Malinda Lo – Ill fortune has befallen the land, and two girls have been tasked with the mission of setting things right. As Kaede and Taisin journey to the city of the Fairy Queen, adventure and romance awaits.

- This Song Is (Not) for You - Laura Nowlin- This is not your usual love triangle. Ramona has been in love with her best friend and bandmate Sam for a long time, Sam has also been in love Ramona. When Tom joins the band, he completes them. Now Ramona is starting to have feelings for Tom, and those feelings are reciprocated. Tom is a romantic asexual, whose asexuality is fully explored

- Seven Tears at High Tide- C.B. Lee – After Kevin Luong drops, yup, seven tears into the sea, he ends up rescuing a boy from the waters. It’s love at first sight for Morgan who, unknown to Kevin, is a Selkie.

- Loveless -Alice Oseman- (out on the 9th July!!) Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day.As she starts university with her best friends, Pip and Jason, in a whole new town far from home, Georgia’s ready to find romance, and with her outgoing roommate on her side and a place in the Shakespeare Society, her ‘teenage dream’ is in sight. But when her romance plan wreaks havoc amongst her friends, Georgia ends up in her own comedy of errors, and she starts to question why love seems so easy for other people but not for her. With new terms thrown at her – asexual, aromantic – Georgia is more uncertain about her feelings than ever.

- The Last Beginning- Lauren James- (you probably need to read the next together first which I HIGHLY recommend) Sixteen years ago, after a scandal that rocked the world, teenagers Katherine and Matthew vanished without a trace. Now Clove Sutcliffe is determined to find her long lost relatives.But where do you start looking for a couple who seem to have been reincarnated at every key moment in history? Who were Kate and Matt? Why were they born again and again? And who is the mysterious Ella, who keeps appearing at every turn in Clove's investigation? For Clove, there is a mystery to solve in the past and a love to find in the future, and failure could cost the world everything.

#i think i did a good job at finding alot of diverse ones and with different sexualites etc represented #i haven't read all of these but i've read some!#queer ya masterlist #book blogging #pride reads #queer books #lgbtq boo #lgbtq reads #ya books

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vivilove-jonsa · 4 years

Note

Can I practice on you?

Thank you so much for the prompt, honey! I drew some inspiration from your Finding My Voice series for this one and I hope you’ll like it :)

(Also, I need to work on WIPs so this will be my last of these for a bit but I’ll return to do more of the great dialogue prompts you guys have sent!)

***

“Can I practice on you?”

Her voice is delicate, testing.

“You talking to me?”

That came out very gruff. He didn’t mean for it to. Time on the inside has made him gruffer. He’s not the soft boy he once was but maybe he’s still a little soft when it comes to those he cares about.

She nervously clasps her hands together and looks ready to flee. He carefully circles his fingers around one of her wrists to keep her still a moment longer here in the kitchen.

“Sorry, Sansa. You mean the henna thing?” She nods. “Yeah, you can practice on me.”

“Thanks.”

He releases his hold on her as soon as she stands. There’s another moment of awkwardness before he realizes he’s meant to follow her. Down the hall and up the stairs and to her bedroom maybe. He’s not been in Sansa’s bedroom since they were kids. We’re not kids now.

Her mother’s eyes follow them as they go. He’s not her favorite. He never has been but, once upon a time, Jon Snow from next door had been alright with Mrs. Stark. That was before he took his little walk on the wild side somewhere between ten and twenty.

It’s been eighteen months up at State but he’s back again. Twenty-four years old and forever behind his peers in every way that matters. He’ll never catch up either because he’s an ex-con and he’ll be tarred by that brush for the rest of his life.

He’s trying though. He’ll never be Robb but he’s trying to be someone mothers don’t constantly watch with such wariness wherever he goes.

“Sorry,” she murmurs as they reach her room and she closes the door. “She hates my new hobby.”

I think it’s me she hates.

He doesn’t say it. He only gives her a sympathetic nod. He can’t see Catelyn Stark liking tattoos of any sort all that much. She’d glared at his enough even before prison. He’s gained a fair few since then.

She bids him to sit on her bed and gets down on her hands and knees in the floor beside him. He really needs to control the turn his thoughts take here. She’s Sansa and she’s exactly the sort of girl he’ll never have.

She tugs a box out from under the bed and places it on the bed next to him.

“So, this henna stuff…”

“It’s from plants and it’s not permanent body art. It’ll wash away in two-three weeks.”

“That’s fine.” He’s got plenty of ink that won’t wash off. He’ll never be really clean in lots of ways, he fears.

She wants to practice doing it, says she discovered it when she was down south and liked it. Her friends would do it do her but now she’s home and those friends are down there. She wants to be able to do it to herself but she needs a little practice. “Or maybe someone to do it with…”

There’s a hopeful lilt in her voice but he’d better be careful. ‘Someone to do it with’ is giving him all kinds of bad ideas.

Her eyes drop to his stomach and he can see her working herself up to something. “Could you…your arms are already pretty covered with tattoos and there’s hair, too. It’s easier if the skin is smooth…like on your back.”

“You want me to take off my shirt?”

She flushes scarlet but nods. “Would you mind terribly?”

“No, I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t. He’s been naked in front of more people than he cares to admit. There’s not much privacy inside after all. Of course, those were all men. And none of the women he’s been naked in front of have been girls like Sansa.

He tugs his tee over his head, grateful his deodorant seems to be holding up.

He catches her glancing his way and…oh, he didn’t expect that.

It’s only a flash but he’s sure of it. Sansa’s eyes had darkened and she’d licked her lips at the sight of his bare upper half. All that time he’d killed lifting weights in the yard served another purpose, it seems, more than just helping him avoid a beat down inside.

She clears her throat the next minute and asks him to lie down, all clipped and serious.

He wonders if all those pull-ups will make his back equally worthy of flashing sapphire eyes and a sultry lip lick.

He decides to make the most of this and sprawls out on her double bed with its downy duvet, a pretty buttery yellow, just like he’s been invited for a sleepover. Her pillowcase must be a billion thread-count or something, he’s never felt anything so soft. He groans appreciatively. This is the most action he’ll ever see in Sansa’s bed, no doubt.

“Comfy?” she asks, her voice quavering just a touch.

“Fuck, yeah.” He should mind his language but he kind of lost his filter inside.

He feels the bed dip as she climbs up on it. Her knees are by his waist. He wishes she’d straddle him this way. He’d like it even more if he could roll over before she did.

He’s got to stop thinking this kind of shit. She’s Sansa and Mrs. Stark, who hates his felonious ass, is right downstairs. She’d probably call 9-1-1 if he dared touch her precious daughter.

She’s not a kid. We’re adults. Mrs. Stark can suck it.

At least, he’s face down. If he pitches a tent right now, it’ll be pointing straight down towards hell…where he just might belong.

She’s chatting about the henna tattoos and mixes some solution or something. He only hears half of what she’s saying because he’s trying to behave. He buries his face in her pillow and inhales.

Lemons and lavender. Her perfume.

Citrus and mint. Her shampoo.

Musk and sweat. Sansa.

She touches him just then and…fuck.

“Snowflakes or a sunburst?”

“Huh?”

“The pattern.”

“Oh. Either…both…whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

She starts to work and his skin feels taunt, stretched and alive with every touch of that brush or stick or whatever it is she’s using. He wonders if he’s broke out in gooseflesh yet. He feels like it.

His gut clenches up with every touch but it’s pleasant. The blood is pooling south of his belt buckle. He’s got to behave with her. She’s not just some girl at a bar looking for a good time. She’s not somebody he can fuck and then walk away from once it’s done. She’s Sansa, she’s everything he’ll never have because of his misspent youth.

She works quietly, shifting here or there, positioning her body differently. He’d almost swear her tits are pressed against his jean-covered ass at one point. He can feel her breathing against the small of his back. It sounds a little labored.

She keeps working and it’s relaxing really, no pain like getting permanent ink…not that it bothers him at this point. He could lay here all day for her. His mind’s starting to drift again.

“Your skin is very smooth.”

He opens his eyes. He’d been near nodding off, acclimated to her touch at last and the bed’s softness and her scent all around him. He’d been ready to have a sweet dream. Maybe a hot, sweet and dirty dream.

“Thanks.” What the hell else did he say to that?

“I appreciate you letting me practice. It relaxes me.”

“Relaxes you?”

“Yeah. I…sometimes I get tense.”

He’s noticed that. She’s not the same since she came back from that fancy school down south. She’d left middle of her second year and come back home. She’s been different, on edge since her return three months ago. At first, he’d thought that was just how she was around him but it’s everybody. What happened down there?

But she seems to like him. She talks to him now whereas before they barely spoke. And, he’s still puzzling out how Sansa Stark, Little Miss Country Club, got into henna tattoos and apparently decided that she doesn’t mind inviting an ex-con to come lie on her bed.

“You were always artistic.“ She shakes her head but it’s true. "If you enjoy doing these, maybe you could do it for money.”

“You think so?”

“Why not? Of course, these aren’t permanent so I don’t know what business is like for them.”

“Pretty good, I think. And, I don’t want permanent ones. I like how these are with you for a bit and then you can wash them away and start anew. I like the transitional aspect of them, the becoming and then the leaving it behind.”

He turns his head enough to look up at her. “Transitional aspect, huh? That’s kind of profound, Sansa.”

Her lips twitch with amusement as her palm flattens along his lower back, right above his belt and over his kidney. “I’d like to do more of your back.” Two fingers slip under the waistband of his jeans and she gives a tug.

Their eyes are locked and he’s wondering what’s happening because something’s about to happen, something he’d never expected in a million years. “Okay. You should…maybe…”

“I’m going to lock the door…for privacy…in case Mother gets curious.”

He gulps and he’s fifteen again. “Oh-k-kay,” he stutters.

“When I’m done with you, would you care to practice on me?” she asks after the door is locked and there’s music playing.

He nods and she pulls her shirt over her head, revealing a lacy pink bra cradling what are likely the most perfect pair of tits in creation. She quickly sweeps her waves of red hair up into a bun like she just wants it out of the way for when his fumbling fingers attempt to paint her gorgeous body with henna. It’s not body art he’s interested in right now but he’ll try it for her.

He’s pitched his tent here face down on her bed, on top of that yellow duvet and he licks his lips. His dark grey eyes are growing darker without a doubt.

“You can’t lie on your back while it dries,” she warns him as he starts to roll over.

He grins and nods. “Oh…that’s fine. We’ll figure something out.”

Her answering grin is mischievous. "Could you strip down to your boxers? I want to go lower.”

“Yeah. You can practice whatever you like on me.”

#jonsa fanfiction #jonsa #vivilove-jonsa fic #dialogue prompts #amymel86

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lushinnerworld · 4 years

Photo

HAIR LOG: Hi :)

This is my first ever log about my journey to long, cousin-it-trap-fairy-manson-cult hair.

From the little research I’ve done, I’ve identified my hair as very fine, fast-growing and low-porosity. It is light brown in its natural state and the longest it has ever been is full ribcage length. Although she looks glossy in the photo, my hair feels very dry to the touch and very thin, especially at the ends. A trim is undoubtedly needed but I plan to put it off for as long as I can in the name of length. My hair has been Manic Panic Enchanted Forest green, Directions pastel pink, salon-bleached paper white, Garnier Nutrisse dark brown and very, very questionable-quality-henna in the colour black. I was able to rid myself of the last of my chemically-cut, bleached hair last year, when I bravely got a bob. The hair I have now has still been exposed to store-bought dyes and that devils henna I mentioned earlier, so she’s a dry bitch. She has also survived a devastating amount of fallout caused by stress at the beginning of this year, so she’s a sparse bitch too. Needless to say, she has been severely abused and deserves better! Not only do I plan to grow her, I plan to spoil her with a selection of natural, sulfate-free, silicone-free, and alcohol-free products. Because this is a recent decision, I am still transitioning and finishing some products that don’t meet these standards. These products are marked with little ✘’s on the list below. Ones that do meet these standards are marked with little ✔︎’s. One thing I am not ready to do, however, is ditch the dye. I haven’t wanted to return to my natural colour since I first laid eyes on Susan Atkins. And yes, I am very ashamed to take beauty inspiration from murderer. Alas, her and her clap-infected friends are the reason I reject anything that isn’t a middle part. The devils henna left my hair very dehydrated and left me very put-off. But, because I am persistent when I want something, I did some research and found Surya Brasil. Yesterday was the first time I tried one of their henna dyes and not gonna lie, I’m feeling dry (lmao). The internet told me this is to be expected for a few days after dying so I’m crossing my fingers. Everything that has touched my hair this month:

✔︎ Artisan honey ✔︎ Mama Bia extra virgin olive oil ✔︎ Terra Flor Brazil nut oil ✔︎ Surya Brasil henna cream in Dark Brown ✔︎ Giovanni Direct Leave-in Weightless Moisture conditioner ✔︎ Urtekram Rosemary Leave-In Spray Conditioner Organic for Fine Hair ✘ Inoar Argan Oil System Hydrating Shampoo ✘ Inoar Absolut Daymoist ultra hydrating conditioner ✔︎ Shitty, broken Daiso wooden comb I’ve been doing hydrating masks with olive oil, honey and banana before shampooing and using leave-ins and oil between washes. The products above are ones I’ve sourced while being in lockdown here in Brazil. Once I am back in New Zealand, I will buy products available there. I’ve been using the incredible website Curlsbot to screen products for sulfates, silicones and alcohols. I also been following the youtube channel OrganicallyAnna for information on hair growth, natural hair care and for when I just need to get off on some indulgent hair porn.

#hair #organicallyanna #long hair #blog post #oc

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musicofglassandwords · 4 years

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The Past: Part One

we are now beginning a series about five hundred years before the time The Vanished Kingdom actually takes place, where the guardians are still the same age they look.

we’re going to go on the journey with them as they discover their powers and learn to work together, because contrary to popular belief, they didn’t always get along :P

Also, these snippets are totally not going to be in chronological order, so please keep that in mind.

For this particular one, the guardians came into being during a time when the skylals were the cause of a war between Valon Taivas and several other countries, which led to a lot of animosity between the skylals and their people.

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“A wedding?” Sahrina asked, stepping into Ella’s room, “What was Violet thinking?”

The blond girl looked up from her bureau, quickly knotting the sash around her soft white dress, and picking up a brush.

“I’m not sure,” Ella frowned, her expression a perfect mirror of the annoyance and confusion in Rina’s tone, “Violet said that they asked us to preside there, right? And then Prince says we have to go, because since they’re inviting the whole city and it will encourage support between the skylals and the Sources.”

“Who’s getting married anyway?” Rina jumped as the sound of Valera’s high voice came from the inside of Ella’s closet.

“Two of the skylals, Henna and Taik,” Ella said, picking up the invitation on her desk and handing it to Rina.

“The thing is that we have support, it’s the other skylals who need to face it up,” Valera said stepping out of the closet in nothing but her underclothes.

"We have to leave soon, hurry up, Val,” Ella said, “Are you ready, Sahr?”

The seven of them had been together for about a year and a half now, and Ella had grown far more comfortable with them. She was grateful to Violet to not keeping her away form her family and the ability to live a normal life, but even so. Being a guardian was far more difficult than she had originally thought.

“I am,” Rina spun around, dark green skirts shading down to black at the hem, “Do you need help with your hair?”

“Please,” Ella sat down on her bed, and Rina started to braid half of her blond hair into a crown. “What are you wearing, Val?”

“This, probably,” she held out an elegant amber gown, “Can I borrow your heels, Ell?”

“Go ahead,” she nodded peaceably, as Val slipped the dress on and started to violently brush her hair. “Are the boys almost done?”

“I saw Violet scolding them in the hallway a minute ago,” Rina said, her mouth screwed up as she tried to smooth down Ella’s hair, “So probably?”

“I heard Prince scolding Seth about not bringing weapons,” Valera added, “I have a feeling that he’s not going to listen though.”

“Finished.” Rina gave the braid a little pat, and smoothing her own hair as the girls made their way down the rickety stairs to the living room where Violet was shouting at Seth.

“Someone tell Seth that he can’t bring weapons to the wedding,” she said turning to the girls, tripping and almost knocking the small table in the living room over. Her deep purple outfit had skirts that were slightly too long for her small frame.

“You look very nice, Vi,” Ella said cheerfully, glancing warily at Seth who was glaring at Violet, a dagger in his left hand. Violet sent the other girls to fetch Prince, while trying to snatch the dagger out of Seth’s grip.

“It’s better to be prepared,” he argued, easily dodging her lunges.

“You have your spirit weapon,” she scolded, “that’s plenty.”

Ella shook her head, and grinned at Kyran who was lounging on the sofa across the room, his suit already rumpled, half of the buttons fastened in the wrong holes.

“You look pretty, Ella,” he said simply, sitting up, “Also, when are we supposed to leave, because at the rate things are going, we’re going to be hours late?”

“Soon,” she patted his head, “You look very handsome except you also look like a mess.”

“Hey, I tried,” he said indignantly, “I’ve never had an opportunity to wear these kind of clothes before.”

Ella considered his outfit for a moment, remembering how she had seen her mother help her father suit up when he had to go meet with the merchants.

“Here, stand up,” she said, and when he rose obediently, she started to put his buttons back into heir appropriate holes. After tucking in his collar and straightening his sleeves, she stared at his hair very pointedly.

“Fine, I’ll get a brush,” he said, disappearing in a puff of smoke just as the rest of the guardians came down.

Seth immediately burst into laughter, pointing at Prince, who glared icily back at him. His crisp dark suit was punctured with smoking, ragged holes exposing his white undershirt.

“Why are you laughing?” Rina asked confusedly, while Violet took this opportunity to snatch the knife away.

“He looks ridiculous!” Seth choked, falling back onto the floor, as an amber-haired boy inched his way out from the crowded entry way to stand next to Ella. She grinned up at Nato, who was neat and impeccable as usual. “He looks like thrown into the fire!”

“No,” Valera said in a matter of fact tone, “He accidentally exploded something in his room.”

“Not again!” Violet wailed, rushing to his side, and investigating the ruins of his clothing. “How many times have we talked about this!

“It’s not a big deal,” Prince said, pushing away his sister, and snapping his fingers, restoring his suit in a ripple of pale purple light.

“Are we finally ready to go?” Ella asked, as Kyran reappeared his hair properly brushed.

“Give us another few hours,” Valera rolled her eyes, “We might be almost pulled together by then.”

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The wedding venue was in shades of spring, swathes of fine Duya silk that must have been traded for before the Age of Apathy shimmered in the air. The bride and groom stood in the front of the venue as Violet marched the guardians to their seats.

Marriages in Valon Taivas usually took place on bridges, as a sign of bloodlines joining together by the bond of marriage, and the guests were always seated on both sides. The vows began, and Ella watched, enraptured.

She loved weddings.

A few minutes later out of the corner of her eye, she saw Seth’s head lolling to the side with his eyes closed, and Kyran punching him in the arm. Seth’s jolted awake, his eyes flashing and he sighed loudly as if annoyed that the ceremony wasn’t yet over.

“Do you believe in the hope of a better future for us and our kin?” The bride and groom were currently asking the traditional set of questions that were supposed to be spoken between them before they were officially married.

“Yes,” Henna smiled radiantly, and Rina passed Valera a handkerchief, as the petite red-head was weeping openly.

“Do you–“ Henna was cut off as a Source ran up the bridge, which was considered sacred ground during a wedding. Her eyes were red, but her mouth was tight and drawn, and she was holding a slender sword.

It gleamed in the sun, deadly and intent on its target.

The Source said nothing as she lunged towards the skylals, the metal cutting deep into Taika’s long cape. Henna pulled Taika to her side, her eyes shining with a brilliant light, as she summoned her power, but before anything could happen, the Source cried out, buckling down.

A dagger protruded from the arm of the Source, and a second one followed sinking deep into her leg. Dark crimson carved its way down the Source’s pale arm, and she sobbed out loud, still scrambling towards the skylals, her sword dangling limply in her free hand.

Screaming began, and Rina rose, shaking a little, especially when she saw her parents in the audience. Violet nodded at the slender girl, and Rina took a deep breath, her eyes glowing.

She pressed a finger to her lips, and green light emanated from her, calming the audience slightly, their words quieter and less harsh.

But Seth was undeterred.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?” he hollered, and in the crowd, Ella could see his aunt standing stiffly, while his older cousins buried their faces in their hands from embarrassment. “THAT PEFECT SHOT!”

“SETH!” Violet yanked him down, “How could you do that? I told you not to bring weapons.”

“Well, I didn’t care,” he sneered, pumping his fist, right before Kyran punched him in the lower neck. he dropped to the ground like a stone, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You are welcome,” Kyran said sitting back down, and smoothing down his hair. “Rina, care to go help them out?”

“I’ll go too,” Ella said, her heart aching for the poor bride and groom. Kyran snagged the edges of both their sleeves and the disappeared and reappeared on the bridge, where the families of both were already gathered, picking u the Source, who alternately snarled, sobbed, and screamed at the skylals.

“Shh,” Rina said gently, pressing a hand to her temple, and the young woman stilled, and Kyran set to work removing Seth’s daggers from her body, as Rina healed the gaping wounds.

“I’m sorry,” Ella turned to the skylals, “You ought to continue with the ceremony. We can take care of this.”

Henna and Taik just looked at her, and nodded, shaking the slightest bit. Kyran disappeared along with Rina with the body, and Ella ushered everyone back to their seats. But there was still one more disturbance to take care of.

Seth’s Aunt Tarla had marched over to them and was shaking him and screaming at him.

Seth was still unconscious.

“How could you do that and make such a scene!” she bellowed at him, yanking at him cruelly, “You are disgracing this House, your parents would be terribly ashamed.”

Seth’s parents had died three years ago, and his aunt had overtaken the legacy of the House of Arenciel instead of Seth himself, deeming him too young to take up the duties as the head. So Seth had run away, relying on his unwieldy powers to help him survive.

“You’re going to give him severe brain damage,” Ella turned gratefully, to find her mother standing there, gently pulling Seth away from his aunt.

“Asta,” Ella said with relief, giving her a quick hug, “Where’s Ba?”

“Trying to keep Sahrina’s parents calm.” She took Taka’s arm, and escorted her back to her seat, after giving Ella a kiss.

“Please continue,” Violet said loudly, glaring around the venue, “Right now!”

A half hours later, the ceremony had concluded, and Prince was sending of streaks of brilliant purple light into the air as the newlyweds kissed and descended down the bridge.

Prince ushered them towards the courtyard where the food and dancing were to begin. The Source had been detained and Violet was currently talking to her, but she’d instructed the guardians to enjoy themselves for the rest for the night.

The sky was darkening to a sunset of gold, rose and blood-red, a gorgeous sky for a gorgeous night.

Slipping between the crowds of silken skirts, Ella searched for the rest of the guardians who had mysteriously disappeared. Stopping by a long table of food to take a glass of star cider, she felt someone yank on the edge of her skirt.

Laughing silently as she looked around to make sure no one was watching, she slipped underneath the table cloth to find the six other guardians grinning mischievously at her. An orb of orange light lit up their faces alone with what looked like an entire table’s worth of food.

“Good wedding,” Seth said approvingly, his mouth full.

“For you maybe,” Kyran said, his head almost completely bowed over as he tried not to hit his head on the table, “How do always keep weapons on you?”

Seth looked at Kyran solemnly and handed him a fruit tart as Nato and Valera bickered over the charka, flaky honey-drizzled pastry.

Rina was already nearly asleep, her head on Prince’s shoulder, her lips stained with the bright red of raspberry pudding. Looking up, Prince caught her eye, his eyes haunting in the light, and his mouth quirked up in half a smile.

It’s going to be a long life, Ella thought to herself, but with the others, perhaps it won’t be as bad as I think.

I already love them all.

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Tagging: @lmorasey, @nomadian-novelist, @onthewingsofwords, @feathered-quill, @stories-by-rie @sunlight-and-starskies, @coffeeandcommas @notquitenovelist @whatwasmyprevioususername @writingqueensworld @feathered-inkling @extraisthmus @drowsy-quill @fictional-semantics @dowings @half-explored @writinginrosecoloredglasses @andiwriteunderthemoon @whimsicallytwisted @saxoniowrites @wordsofpaintandsmoke @peggydreadful @a-taleteller @blackcat1400 @cilly-musouka

#the vanished kingdom #writing #my writing #writeblr #violetvineyard #fantasy #the past #ella

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artemismoon12writes · 4 years

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Title: But I’m a Cheerleader

Daltonfic Big Bang; Week 7, Day 7; NSFW Wildcard Based off Cheer, CP’s dreamcast for a Dalton Cheer Squad, and Wes & Derek’s Cheerleading Kink. Except they’re all girls for a side of Rule!63 bc it’s that kind of a day.

Through sheer force of will and Elizabeth Hummel’s unending determination, Dalton had a cheer squad. It wasn’t exactly what most of the sports teams had been expecting; half the student body had thought it was sexist, and the other half thought it was weird considering they were an all-girls school; but Sue Sylvester was not allowed to own more than 49% of the rights to Dalton’s fields, so students from their own school would have to do.

Now filling the squad as its own can of worms, because most of the dancers or gymnastically inclined girls were already signed up to other extra-curriculars. Some Warblers didn’t have to be persuaded, like Janette, or Danielle. Joanna Logan Wright- as her father called her when she was in a particular amount of trouble- was roped in for her height before even Elizabeth’s calming precene wasn’t enough to make him stay at it. Blair and Olivia were recruited as flyers, and it’s the closest they got to a working squad.

“Hey, Dwyre, you are actually allowed to wash your uniform.” Elizabeth said, hands on her hips one afternoon at practice. “If you’re so messy when you brush your teeth that you get toothpaste all over it-”

Dwyre’s eye twitched. She was only here because Elizabeth was her friend; no other reason. She didn’t correct Elizabeth on her assumptions and just threw down her bag. “Just, let’s get this over with.”

Reed was watching Dwyre; with the subtle white smears and tangled, tied-back hair. She kept his mouth closed until she could get more information. This was going to be good once she got the whole story. She could tell.

---

“You like that don’t you, you little bitch?” Erica’s voice echoed in the least used locker room, biting Dwyre’s neck before shoving her back down against the bench.

Wendy sat in front of them, her underwear shoved to the side. Her pants were thrown to the ground, impatient as she’d grabbed Dwyre earlier that hour. “Hey, not cool Erica. What if she’s not into that?”

Dwyre rolled her eyes, pulling Wendy forwards anyways like ‘this might as well happen’. Dark eyes met dark eyes before Dwyre ducked down, lips set in a different kind of kiss. Wendy squeaked; her back hitting the bench in the locker room with a thud. Her hand twisted in Dwyre’s hair, bucking up into the younger girl’s mouth.

She’d already had fingers in herself, wet and wanting as she’d gotten Dwyre to press her up against the lockers. That had been when Erica had come looking for Dwyre too; supposedly an easy conquest out of all the Dalton cheerleaders, but how easy was underestimated by both of them.

“Fuck, that’s- shit!” Wendy gasped, Dwyre’s mouth coaxing noises out of her, buried between her thighs, arms wrapped around her legs and pulling her closer. It was eager, the way Dwyre went down on her, eating her out with a keen tongue; as if she could drink in the taste and wanted to drown in how thick the small was.

“Shit, stop moving.” Erica scolded, the smack on Dwyre’s ass causing the other two to jump. “Fucking bitch.”

Dwyre sighed, nipping at Wendy’s thigh before snarking. “You could maybe do a better job at fingering me. You’re acting like some pump and dump guy; like, does your hand cramp when you try to get my clit and my-“

“Brat.” Erica said again, tweaking Dwyre’s clit under the short cheerleading skirt. “I could have you screaming before Wendy even dreams of getting off.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Wendy said, coaxing Dwyre back to lapping at her clit. An absent-minded ‘good girl’ on her lips. She met Erica’s eyes with a competitive grin. “You seem to be panting right along after me as much as you are with Dwyre.”

“I- fuck you, I am not.” Erica said, driving her fingers deeper into Dwyre as if it proved some kind of point. Her other hand braced against the girl kneeling between them, grabbing the small handful of her ass that she could. “I just haven’t had a dick in a while, that’s all.”

“That’s why you’re topping her, rather than have her fuck you.” Wendy said, petting Dwyre’s hair as she twisted her hips up, a long groan curling from her throat. “Oh fuck, Dwyre that’s good.”

“I’m not gay Hughes. You though? You’re as straight as a fucking rubber band.” Erica shot over, feeling her own wet drip down her leg. Fuck. She didn’t have to be bi to think this was hot; it was sex. Sex was sex. Sex with the prudish goth cheerleader, and that loud mouther warbler bitch was even better; because then she didn’t have to pretend to like them.

Wendy ignored her, grasping her own nipple under her bra, the other hand scratching up her side. Fuck she didn’t think she’d be getting off in the locker room today; but she’d seen Dwyre’s ass in that skirt again; fuck, she had to at least ask!

It wasn’t a kink she told herself; dark navy fabric rucked up around Dwyre’s waist, seeing Erica there with wide blown eyes and knuckles pulling choked gasps out of Dwyre between them.

“You’re doing- fuck- so good. You’re fucking so good.” Wendy murmured, clenching her fingers with a gasp, the tongue between her legs swirling and sucking in one firm swipe.

“Wen-” Dwyre’s words were cut off; Erica pressing her tongue to Dwyre’s ass, another finger slipping in with a tight, wet noise, shoving in and out quickly, twisting in her loudly. It was fast, and rough; not at all tender. She moaned, dark and low against Wendy’s thigh, rolling her hips back. “Fuck, Erica, Eri-AH!”

Wendy sat up, breathing hard. She caught Dwyre before she fell off the bench shaking, hand covering the dark henna tattoo and pulled her up. She claimed her mouth with the kind of biting kiss she’d picked up from too many nights fighting with her ex and making up just as quickly. She could only hear whimpers, panting, and a determined slick push of Erica demanding Dwyre to moan her name and her name alone.

“You’re going to come on my hand, aren’t you bitch?” Erica challenged to Dwyre’s choked cry.

“I- fuck!” Dwyre called, her legs unsteady as she gulped back a comment that would have only caused Erica to go even rougher. She didn’t thinks she could take that. She tried to hide her face in Wendy’s hot neck, smelling of sweat, salt, and sex. She fell forward, skin to Wendy’s white, pressed shirt as she came; gasping Erica’s name.

Erica grinned, triumphant over the curve of Dwyre’s hip; smirking, satisfied at the wet hem of Dwyre’s skirt. “You squirted like a little slut, didn’t you?”

Dwyre whimpered, clutching at Wendy’s neck and desperately trying to quell the ache she still felt.

Wendy, who’d gone more than just one round with Dwyre before, raised an eyebrow up at Erica. “She’s not like a guy. She’s not done you stupid bitch.”

“Stupi-” Erica almost shouted before she was pushed back, Wendy laying Dwyre out on her back; straddling Dwyre and the bench, hands on her waist with a smug look. “Do I have to teach you how to do everything Seigerson?”

“You’re not god’s gift to lesbians Wendy. I’d know.” Dwyre said, shuddering anyways when Wendy ground down against her. It was slick; the slid between them with just enough friction to keep that sweet build she had going. “Just, shut up and stop antagonising her.”

“I’ll antagonise her all I want.” Wendy looked down, licking her lips. “She should sit on your face though, it’d be hot.”

“Fuck, I’m down.” Erica said, bracing against the bench and letting Dwyre take over without being told to again.

“Pretty eager for a straight girl.” Wendy shot over, her breath stuttering out; seeing Erica’s clit disappear under Dwyre’s tongue; her eyes trailed up to Erica’s bra, hanging on by one strap. “Fuck you have nice tits.”

“I’ll let you at them if you want,” Erica said, another insult on her tongue before Wendy swallowed her words, surging forward to bite at her lower lip. They groaned, grinding down on the same girl, but pulling groans out of the other all the same.

Erica came first, shouting against Wendy’s mouth on her nipple and Dwyre’s tongue flicking up into her. It was only a second or two before Wendy was swearing, wet and sore against Dwyre; who shoved Erica off her and pulled Wendy against her, fingers tucked up into the two of them; hot, quick, and gasping.

“No protests of ‘but I’m a cheerleader’ from you?” Wendy grinned, one last nibble to Dwyre’s ear.

“Fuck you.” Dwyre muttered, brushing off her skirt and getting white streaks along the pleats.

“You going to clean that?” Erica asked, sitting with bright red lips and flushed dkin against the locker room floot.

Dwyre shrugged. “I have practice in like, an hour. I don’t give a shit. Not like Elizabeth even knows what cum looks like.”

Erica barked out a laugh; Wendy only felt like she could go another three rounds at the thought of Dwyre wearing smears of her out onto the field. Even now, Dwyre just pulled back her hair, wrinkling her nose. “See you idiots later; I’d say let’s do this again, but like? It’s been a weird day so maybe not?”

Wendy and Erica didn’t speak to each other; so used to competing for the same guy it was weird to have almost a truce over the same girl. If they ended up fucking the shower later, it was neither here nor there.

They were both still straight though. Totally.

#daltonficbigbang2020 #daltonfic #exp #otp #dwes #dwesrek #rule63 #Derek Seigerson #wes hughes #dwight houston #kurt hummel #reed van kamp #oneshot #artemiswrites

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0idril0 · 5 years

Text

Phoenix

Daria& Evan 13

Thanks @whumpywhumper and @captivity-whump for beta reading

I’m sorry @comfy-whumpee but this one is what all the pain was for

@whumpitywhumpwhump I don’t know where you are but we miss you 🥺

@doityourselfbombs I cannot for the life of me remember your other blogs name 😅

next fic is pure comfort, you guys deserve it for putting up with me

June 21, 1995—Summer Solstice

Daria hummed quietly, tucking her precious boy closer. The candle on her altar flickered, illuminating his pink cheeks, still round with baby fat. He hugged a little stuffed wolf closer, curling long, slender fingers into her shawl as he snuffled in sleep.

Her ritual was ruined, but as she pressed a kiss against his thick hair, she couldn’t find any annoyance at the interruption.

“I love you, my little Nikola.”

Stroking his slender fingers, she memorized her little boy’s face. She knew that she shouldn’t have favorites, but her little boy was the most loving toddler she’d ever encountered. He clung to her, always wanting to be held, to be snuggled and fussed over.

She grinned as the the new life in her kicked out, making its presence known. Three more months and her little boy wouldn’t be the youngest and her time would be taken up with the new baby. And her daughter, her oldest, would be ten. It would be time to start teaching her about her magic soon.

Her eyes strayed to the altar, and she felt a knot of worry grow in her chest. When Nico had wandered into her divination, it had turned violent, showing the death of a young man with dark hair and pale blue eyes. Daria shivered, remembering. The young man had looked so much like her husband, but he’d had her dark hair, her blue eyes. Nikola’s hair and eyes.

“You spoil him.”

Daria shifted so she could look at the door where her husband lurked. “Hmmm.... Dragostea mea.... do you blame me?”

Andrew smirked, tiptoeing up to them. “I guess I can’t, but that’s only because you tried to spoil Sorina, and she wouldn’t let you.” He grinned impishly, settling a square hand on their son’s head. “Did you see anything?”

Biting her lip, Daria turned to the altar. “Bits and pieces... your son interrupted before I saw anything about the near future.”

Andrew snorted, used to her trying to blame him for things. “My son when he interrupts, your son when he’s adorable, how’s that fair? Want me to take him to bed so you can finish?”

She shook her head, pulling Nico into a tighter embrace. “I’ll have to wait for the equinox, but I think we will be safe until then.”

“Okay, Love, I’ll see you in a bit.” He kissed Nico’s forehead before leaving the room on silent feet.

Daria sat there, cradling her son, until the candle sputtered out.

Evan pushed Brian and Kristy through the doorway to his office, slamming the door closed as Clint’s feral howl sounded through the clinic. Snarls and screams echoed through the brick walls, vibrating the door on its hinges. He hoped Clint didn’t come this way, the door wouldn’t hold against a feral wolf.

“F—fuck.” Brian’s breathy curse hung in the room as Evan stood with his back braced against the door. “Fucking fuck, what the hell was that?”

“That... that would be a werewolf that just lost its mate....” Sweat ran in rivets down his face, soaking his shirt as he caught his breath. Brian’s face turned white, mouth falling open.

“But...” Brian trailed off, sinking into a catty corner chair. His wide eyes were glassy as they left Evan's, staring into empty space.

A small sob drew his attention, Kristy was on her haunches behind his desk, holding a trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh my god... oh my god...” Mascara ran down her olive cheeks, staining her hands where she’d started to wipe away tears.

The crash of metal made them all jump, bracing themselves in their respective places. Their quiet breathing was the only sound for a long moment.

Evan's hands shook as he straightened, gently cracking the door open. A howl made him freeze, the sound sucking the warmth from the room. He clenched his eyes against the agony in it, allowing his head to rest against the cool wood. “Fuck... “

March 21, 1999—Spring Equinox

Daria sobbed, hands braced against the altar in front of her. Her little boy had turned six yesterday, and she wouldn’t live to see him turn seven. She’d done everything, altered their future in so many different ways, and she couldn’t make it change.

What was she supposed to do?

“Mama, are you okay?”

Daria sniffled, quickly rubbing away her tears. Nico peeked through a small crack in the door to her herb room, worry causing a small furrow in his brow. He held his small stuffed wolf close, inseparable from it. She knew why now, knew why he grew restless when the full moon rose, why all dogs seemed to love him. It was her job to make sure he got that ending though.

“Yes, Baby, I’m fine. Come here.” She spread her arms, warmth curling in her heart when he ran to her and jumped up, wrapping his legs around her waist. Burying her face into his hair, she felt a few more tears fall down her cheeks.

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, Cola,” Daria whispered into his hair, cradling his small head.

She’d seen bits and pieces of his future, and it filled her with dread. She’d seen happiness, but she’s also seen such unimaginable horror. She had three more chances. She couldn’t waste them.

“Stay here.”

Brian and Kristy barely moved, each too caught in their own little piece of misery to acknowledge him.

Evan pulled the door open slowly, Clint’s howl still haunting the clinic. He froze when a quiet whine came from one of the exam rooms to his left, not expecting anything other than Clint to be out in the clinic.

He instinctively wove magic around the advancing dog, relaxing when Murphy, a large fluffy mutt with hip dysplasia, waddled around the door. Murphy ignored Evan, continuing his slow walk down the hallway.

The damage to his clinic was extensive, wood splinters littering the hallway, brick powder coating the flat surfaces. Fuck. Inching his way closer, he could see more dogs laying in front of his surgery room, pulled together so tightly that they looked like one giant ball of fur. The largest two, a Tibetan mastiff named Clifford and a wolfhound name Keith, sat at the doorway, standing sentinel. Cliff whoofed at him quietly in greeting, but didn’t move, keeping his post.

“Good boy,” Evan whispered, weaving a few delicate strands of magic over the dogs. Clifford was tricky, part supernatural, but mostly just well trained. Keith was easier, easily following his suggestion to move.

Clint lay naked on the floor, broad back to the doorway. Keening sobs racked him, muscles quivering under the onslaught of grief. Blood stained his shoulder, black bruises fanning over his shoulder and ribs. There was a tiny mass barely visible in Clint’s arms, and Evan's heart hurt as he realized it was Nico, his bandaged feet poking out of the bottom of the bundle.

What had he done with Martin? Taking stock of the dogs, he saw they were all here. If the man had been injured somewhere one of them would have been there. Especially his resident comfort dog, an old golden named Sunny.

The wolf’s nest was a haphazard mess of quilts and blood stained towels; Evan rolled his shoulders, steeling himself as he grabbed a fresh quilt before entering.

“Hey, buddy...” Whispering, he shook out the quilt. “I’m just going to cover you up, okay?”

Clint muffled a watery growl into the quilt cocooning Nico, curling tighter around his small bundle as the quilt descended to cover them.

“I know, I know, shhhh...” Evan knelt, placing a tentative hand on Clint’s shoulder. The growling stopped, giving way to more gasping sobs as his mouth worked like he was trying to talk. “I know, buddy, I know.” Evan buried a hand into Clint’s hair, gently stroking the sandy locks.

One of Nico’s hands had fallen out of the blanket to lay limp against the quilts, Clint’s sobs making the appendage shake. Evan continued to stroke Clint’s hair, rubbing small circles into the base of his skull.

Evan’s throat tightened as he sat there with the pair, and he brushed a stray tear from his face before reaching forward, gently grasping Nico’s lax hand.

“Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.....” Evan whispered the benediction into the quiet space between Clint’s cries, rubbing circles into Nico’s bandaged wrist. “May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, Rest In Peace.”

Evan squeezed the base of Clint’s skull as the man whimpered louder. “I’m sorry Clint. I-“

A faint blue light distracted him, reflecting against his fingers. Wha-?

December 22, 1999—Winter Solstice

Daria swallowed thickly as she laid out the altar in front of her; it was time. Her last task. The full moon rose behind her as she lit the candles, placing the crystals delicately around the copper bowl. It needed to be perfect.

Anxiety grew in her chest as she willed the sputtering candles to stay alight. She was glad for Louisiana’s tepid winters as she laid her sleeping little boy on the altar, making sure his lax arms and legs were placed perfectly. She’d had to give him a sleeping brew, worried he would be too curious about the ritual to lie still. She needed this to work.

She lit the contents of the bowl on fire using the white candle and tugged the little plush wolf from Nico’s embrace. He was going to be so disappointed when he woke up.

The henna work on Nico’s chest and arms was dark in contrast to his pale skin. Smoothing a hand over his thin chest, she checked the work again, making sure he hadn’t smudged it playing with his little sister before falling asleep.

“I have one more story for you, my little one.” God, how she wished she could tell him stories every night, watch the way he would mouth along with a poem, puzzling at the meaning behind the words. Even as a six year old, he was so thoughtful and deep. It killed her that she wouldn’t see him grow.

Unclipping the talisman from her neck, she traced the small engraving. The piece was no larger than a quarter, a howling wolf surrounded by two Phoenixes in flight.

Holding it over the flames, she began chanting.

“When you are ashes, remember this.

They will insult you,

Hurt you,

Defeat you,

Betray you,

Injure you

Set you aflame

And watch you burn.”

The toy ignited quickly, multicolored flames consuming it in moments.

“But they will not,

Shall not,

Cannot

Destroy you.”

She released the talisman, the metal crackling as it settled into the ashes.

“Because you,

Like Rome,

Were built on ashes,

And you,

Like a Phoenix,

Know how to rise,

And resurrect.”

The flames in the bowl turned blue as the moon reached its peak, burning higher than what should have been possible before extinguishing with a whisper of air, there one moment and gone the next.

Nico mewled as the flames dissipated, and her breath caught in her throat as the lines of henna work slowly began to glow, bright blue illuminating his pale skin.

Quickly, Daria set her hand into the ashes, heedless of the heat, letting the metal talisman burn into her hand. She traced the lines of blue with the ash, dipping her fingers into the heat over and over again until he was completely coated.

“Protect him. Please.” Daria fastened the clasp around his neck, the tiny click echoing in the quiet. The talisman sat in bold contrast to his skin as the henna and ash mixed, slowly disappearing into Nico’s skin. The talisman would be hidden from view so only he would be aware of it. Picking her child up like she had a hundred times before, wrapping his legs around her waist and his arms around her neck, she abandoned the altar. She wouldn’t need it again. She’d done all she could for her family.

Clint’s sobs grew harsher as Evan turned Nico’s limp hand. What the fuck?

“Clint.” Evan jerked his hand away from Nico’s, using it as he scrambled his way in front of the pair to get a better look at the bundled figure.

Clint’s sob cut off with a grunt when Evan kneed him in his haste, turning into a wet growl as the vet started to peel away the blankets from Nico’s face and chest. “Just leave us alone Evan, just fucking—“

Evan cut him off, peeling Clint’s arm away from Nico’s chest. “Clint. Look.”

Blue sigils wormed their way across Nico’s exposed skin as Evan watched, like they were being drawn with a practiced hand. Clint gave a strangled gasp from where he lay eyes widening as he dislodged his arm from beneath Nico’s head.

Evan recovered first, probing at the faint lines where they disappeared under the bandages on the bruised chest. What. The. Fuck?

“Have you ever—“ Evan cut himself off, a faint movement against his fingers making him freeze. “Oh my God.”

Pushing Clint away, he rolled Nico to his back, the boy’s head rolling against the quilts. He pressed trembling fingers to the bruised throat and choked. “Fuck. Fucking hell, he’s got a pulse.”

Evan whipped his head towards Clint, who was staring at Nico with glassy eyes, like he hadn’t heard him. “Clint, look at me.”

The wolf lifted his eyes slowly to meet his, gaze dazed. There wasn’t any understanding in the wolf’s yellow eyes. Shock. Exactly what he needed.

Evan growled in frustration, looking Nico over. His heartbeat was still faint against his fingers, but it was so much stronger than it had been before Martin had arrived. The boy's face had lost the sickly gray, replaced by a pink blush across his cheeks. He pressed his hand against Nico’s chest, and flinched in surprise when there was a wet cough followed by crackling as Nico gasped for air.

“N—Nico?” Clint clutched at his chest, eyes distant. “Oh my god. Oh my god Darlin’. Evan, Evan I—.” Cutting himself off, he folded in half, pressing his cheek to Nico’s. A strangled laugh erupted from him, and Evan felt a small smile tug at his mouth.

He had no idea what was happening, but Nico was alive.

#Nico Series #grief #resurrection #poor clint #poor nico #evan #introducing nicos mom #the next one is all comfort #yall deserve it #thanks for sticking around

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jeffreyongames558 · 2 years

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How To Create Beautiful Bridal Mehndi Designs

Henna is among the earliest art forms in India. It is recognized for its elegance and also flexibility. Henna is likewise used in Indian weddings as a dye for the bride's hair. Henna tattoo designs have the adaptability to match all sort of outfits.

A henna tattoo design is generally developed with the dry fallen leaves of the henna tree (Lawsonia scent) plant. This botanical has actually been made use of since ancient days for its improvement and healing properties. Typically offered in the form of a dried powder, the dry leaf form of this botanical is also used for tattoos nowadays. Henna designs of crosses, flowers, fairies and also other Indian wedding signs are popular for use on the hands. These designs also work out to highlight the fingers, wrist as well as midsection along with the ankles and feet.

There are different kinds of henna hand designs. They differ depending on what the occasion is and also what kind of typical outfit the bride-to-be is putting on. A western design henna design is made use of to decorate a new bride's waist. The flower design is normally lengthy and also flowing. On the other hand, eastern henna designs offer the bride-to-be a different appearance and decorate her hands as opposed to her waistline.

In some locations of India, henna designs are part and parcel of wedding ceremonies. The bridal party and also the entire entourage is enhanced and also decorated with these natural art tattoos. Henna tattoo designs work as signs forever luck in love, marital relationship and also fertility. It is said that it will bring prosperity to the people that have it used on their bodies.

Henna is a plant from the plant household the Panicum lectularius. It has been located in several regions of north Africa, Europe, Asia, Arabia and also India. The traditional henna art which makes use of the fallen leave type have been used for hundreds of years. The fallen leaves or branches can be embellished and also tinted using colors. Attractive henna designs that are created utilizing intricate, brilliant shades create captivating, striking designs that are attractive as well as eye-catching.

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Henna tattoo designs can can be found in various shades. Some utilize pure white while others may utilize different tones of color relying on complexion. A dark skinned individual might pick a deeper shade of red henna design related to enhance his appeal and also contribute Simple Arabic Henna Design to his allure. White henna designs are typically utilized by fair skinned ladies to make their skin show up stunning and eye-catching.

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One can likewise select from a selection of offered henna designs. These variety from Indian Mehdai designs, African tribal tattoos, Chinese blossom tattoos, Japanese personalities, Islamic designs to Gothic designs. These are just few of them. Furthermore, most of these henna designs can be applied with other sort of cosmetic applications such as gels, creams, lipsticks, mascara or liquid foundations so you can accomplish several effects.

Henna tattoos are momentary tattoos which fade after couple of hrs yet can last as much as one month. The reason why they fade is since as soon as it touches skin, the dye obtains soaked up by the body. Because of this factor, the tattoos might get misplaced or lost. There are numerous specialist skin art specialists that can assist you out if you intend to get inked with a henna tattoo in your body.

It is thought that henna art originated from India. It was practiced by the royal people as well as was used as an accessory for their sculptures, steeds, doors and also glass items etc. Henna patterns were even painted on the sculptures and used to embellish your home. It was limited to females folk as it was believed that such art would certainly attract the opposite sex. However today, henna art has actually rebounded and lots of modern women make use of henna patterns on their body components to enhance their beauty.

One of the significant reasons as to why henna designs have actually picked up is that it is a pain-free treatment with almost no scarring process. If you have any type of problem about a henna tattoo lasting longer than expected, you can constantly opt for fabricated tattoos. You can not deny the fact that henna designs are captivating and also most definitely very appealing. They are certainly appealing as well as look really trendy and sophisticated especially on the arms and also legs.

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The most effective thing about a stunning white henna tattoo is that you can constantly flaunt it with any type of clothing. The factor is straightforward, due to the fact that these are appealing and also it conveniently draws attention. If you intend to add more bling to your outfit, you can always go with some strong tattoos such as tribal, zodiac and also Celtic tattoos. Nonetheless, you ought to not go with too many shades on your body. It might look frustrating as well as sidetrack you from considering the tattoo ahead.

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inappropriate-drill-usage · 6 years

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"I got you, it's gonna be okay, you're going to be okay." |@classical-crowbar|

There’s a starter underneath the cut. It’s extremely long and I don’t want to spam people’s dashes.

Also a fair amount of violence, but it’s not really any more graphic than other torture scenes.

Monday, August 5, 1946

(Probably)

The darkness interefered with Bea’s percepton of the passage of time. There was something primal about it. Human were meant to live and work between sunrise and sunset, not sit perfectly still and unable to move, all while surrounded by thick, suffocating blackness. It was a fairly new thing, this lack of light. After all, the RED Pyro had put her torture chamber in the attic of her base. It was a large and airy space, with dormer windows on both sides. Sunlight and moonlight got in. The view was so good that Bea had been able to watch the stars rotate across the night sky. This natural clock had measured out three days, and then, sometime in the morning, the RED Pyro beat Bea so badly that her remaining eye swelled shut. After that, there was no time at all.

***

At some indistinct point in the fairly recent past, the BLUs were enjoying a long weekend. The RED spy was badly injured and likely to be absent from battle for at least a week or so. Such unfortunate events had given the BLUs the motivation they needed to capture the last control point on a Thursday afternoon.

That night had brought a celebration with guitar music, barbecue, and alcohol. By the wee hours of Friday morning, most everyone had wound down for the night, but Bea found herself in the bathtub. She had no need to be up before noon that day, so why not enjoy same bath salts Rory had given her and finish this week’s issue of The Economist?

By 2 am, the water had gotten cold, so Bea dried off, pulled on her nightgown, and started to drain the tub. There were footsteps outside; one of the men staggering to the WC in half-asleep stupor. Bea preoccupied herself with her reflection in the spotted metal mirror, trying to hold her head at such and angle that her scar wasn’t visible.

Then the door opened, quickly, but not so forcefully that it banged against the wall. Bea barely had time to catch a glimpse of a figure in a respirator before a pair of hands stuffed a gag in her mouth. A pin rattled, and then the rotten-fruit scent of a hallucination grenade was strong enough to make her eyes water. In this confined space, it took about thirty seconds before the world melted into kaleidoscopic swirls.

When everything re-solidified, Bea was the in RED attic and the sun was rising. Her vision was still a bit shaky, but Bea knew the feeling of the interrogation chair and restraints. She focused her eyes, and sure enough, there was the RED Pyro. Beach pajamas* with trousers, hair perfectly shingled, dark eyeliner. She was touching up the elaborate henna patterns on her left hand.

Bea wanted nothing more than to snarl Annalise,with her voice full of scorn, but she was still so drugged that all that came out was some gurgles and drool. It was enough to get Annalise’s attention, because she put down her brushes, stood up, and slapped Bea’s face with such force that the vertebrae in her neck popped.

“Cunt.” Annalise’s British accent made it sound almost sweet.

There was no interrogation to go with the torture. No answers were needed and nobody had any questions to ask, anyway. Annalise smashed in both of Bea’s kneecaps with a dumbbell, then tore off her fingernails with a pliers. She sliced the insides of Bea’s exposed forearms with a razor blade, put on a pair off rubber gloves, and smeared liquid drain cleaner into the wounds. And she hit Bea in the face. With her hands and the butt of a polo bat and a dainty little riding crop that looked too delicate to leave such welts.

Bea screamed lustily through the first part of it all. At the very least, why not blow out Annalise’s eardrums? And who cared if everybody heard? The REDs doubtless knew what was going on. But a person could only scream so much before getting so hoarse and thirsty that it just wasn’t worth it.

“You hungry?” By the pale light of Sunday morning, Annalise held out a bowl. The contents looked like tar in this light, but the scent made Bea think of wet cat food.

“Come on. I can hear your stomach growling.” Annalise scooped out some of the mixture on two fingers. “Come on poppet. You know you want it.”

At the word poppet, Bea’s stomach boiled. She hated the word. Rory had told her that it was indeed a legitimate British term of affection, but life had mutated into something else. Something condescending and frilly, like a bow on an underage whore.

Bea gathered her last bit of saliva to spit, but Annalisa grabbed her by the hair and smeared the tarlike stuff in her face. It was indeed cat food, the sort of meat that the government said was unfit to feed to humans. It made her lips and face injuries burn; Annalise had added some kind of hot pepper, maybe? And it was disturbingly gritty. What wasn’t cat food or pepper was made up of salt. Even before Annalise let go of her hair, Bea had figured that she wasn’t going it be getting water anytime soon.

Things went somewhat blurry after that. Annalise kicked Bea’s broken kneecaps until she blacked out from the pain. She poured salt in her mouth and ground it into the wounds on her arms. Beat her with a crowbar until Bea could have sworn a rib cracked. Punched her in the throat until there was blood in Bea’s mouth.

Bea’s denailed hands were swollen stiff from dehydration by now. Her tongue was even more swollen, gone coarse against her dry mouth. She couldn’t have made a sound it she tried. Her forearms were swollen and blistered, and every breath hurt, both in her ribs and her throat.

It went on and on. Annalise did something. Then she stopped. Maybe she was leaving for meals? Or to go fuck the Spy? No, the Spy was injured and not up for such things. Time was only punctuated by the changing light outside.

Then one day –probably day three– Annalise got over-excited with the polo bat and Bea’s eye swelled shut. After that, Bea hovered – existed, really—in her own private darkness. The whole world had shrunk down to her body, a lump of swollen, stinking meat. Passive. Lumps didn’t do anything. Things just happened to them.

It was been a while since Annalise had done anything, Bea thought. Maybe it was night. Or maybe she had just she had gone to the grocery store, or to the beauty salon. Get some shiny red nails to go with those pretty henna patterns. Who knew?

Then the door opened. Heavy footsteps to go with Annalise’s dainty ones.

“By our Lady.” A Spanish accent. The RED Solider. “Are you certain she’s alive?”

“Oh, she’s alive.” Cool fingers traced the skin on Bea’s neck. “Look carefully now. See this? I haven’t hit anything vital.”

Something clicked. Metallic and sharp, and the restraints came off Bea’s destroyed arms. Some part of Bea was still alive enough to consider running, but she’d probably stagger two steps and then run into a wall. So she let the Solider pick her up. Bea had figured he’d toss her over his shoulder, but no, he just cradled her in his arms.

“Just dump her by mile marker 35,” said Annalise. “Not outside it. You hear me? Not outside it. I don’t want her on my case.”

Mile marker 35 was right on the edge of the respawn’s range, where the signal was so feeble and faint that it might take several days for a merc to fully re-generate. Wasn’t that perfect? As long as the RED Spy was down, Bea would be down, too. Even things out. Make the balance between the teams fair again.

Bea felt herself be carried down the stairs, then loaded into a car. The Solider must have known she couldn’t sit up, because he just laid her on the floor, where the car mats dug into her skin. The car bounced off rocks, and it’s the vibrations from its engine rattled Bea’s teeth in her head.

The car stopped. The Soldier picked her up in is arms again, set in down in the sand. Bea have expected him to say something to her. Maybe an apology, or an insult, or a kick in the face. But there was nothing. The Soldier’s footsteps retreated, and the car’s engine restarted, only to fade into nothing.

It was day. Bea was nearly certain of it; she could feel her skin burning in the sun. More blank, black time passed. She made no attempt to move. Why bother? She’d get nowhere, and the sooner she died, the sooner she’d respawn. She’d wake up under those bright lights, especially nauseous from being dead for so long, but it would certainly feel better than this.

The team would have been so relieved when she re-materialized. Rory and Roy were certainly going to cry. Maybe the relief would keep them from asking too many questions. Everybody though the RED Spy and his bitch were crazy anyway. Maybe they’d satisfy themselves with hugging Bea and cursing the REDs.

Let the team be satisfied with that. No questions. Please.

And then, suddenly:

“I found her!”

She could have sworn it was Rory.

“I got you, it’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

Bea’s mind went totally blank with astonishment. It was actually Rory; she’d know his voice anywhere. Hands went all over her face and throat, checking to see if she was breathing.

Goddamn it. Rory was sure to be crying, and some part of her was grateful she wasn’t able to see.

#YEAH I KINDA GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE LENGTH #BUT I'M NOT REALLY SORRY #roleplay #bea #annalise #ashley #rory

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