#this is probably part of why authors refuse any prompts from fans
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I have a problem with 90% of the fests I see advertised with prompting. I love the idea of sharing plot bunnies or creative ideas. I don't like it when the prompt forms have a dozen fields outside of the prompt that further specifies anything. Ship, rating, characters, triggers, etc. A prompt in a standard fest is NOT a request for a gift. The writer is not obligated to write you a story. If you as a prompter have a list of requirements for the prompt, then you are not offering a prompt. You are saying, writer you must write me this exact story. I do not understand how that is seen as the norm in fandom right now instead of rude and limiting?
As long as you don't gift the story to the prompter, you are under NO OBLIGATION to follow any of those superfluous prompt fields. It's a prompt. A starting point for inspiration.
I cannot count how many fest prompts I've read through, found a prompt that sang to my muse and started crafting an idea only to then read 'Do Not Write: age gap relationship. Or only X or Y characters' . Who is this prompter to tell me what stories I am allowed to create? That is not how a prompt works! That is how a gift request works. Stop putting me in a fucking box.
#for the love of whatever deity you subscribe to these fest organizers need to learn the difference between a prompt fest and a gift fest#and not be conflating the two#because if I were to write the story that the prompt inspired me to write and that didn't follow the “extra requirements”...#... I would get labeled like a jerk for my participation which wouldn't be fair to any creator to be punished for their act of creation#if you are so dang bent out of shape that the prompt has to be used for wolfstar then write the dang thing yourself#prompts must be freely given#you do not retain any control of the final product by supplying a prompt#this is probably part of why authors refuse any prompts from fans#fandom discourse#fest discourse#prompting discourse#this whole thing makes me rage and Ive dropped out of fests before even officially joining the fest#e is for echo#A PROMPT IS NOT A GIFT#you are not entitled to the creators output#and you are not entitled to a writer creating a story to your preferences unless its specifically a gift exchange
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prompt -> everyone cowers in front of ringo's supreme power
There’s a reason why Ringo never played drum solos. If you thought it was because he simply didn’t like them, then I’m sorry, but you got fooled by a famous Beatles lie. No, Ringo didn’t play drum solos because he had stage fright, or he thought that they were too ostentatious - he refused to play them because he knew it would give him too much power. So much power, in fact, that he could cause the end of the world.
Sounds dramatic, I know, but don’t believe me? Back in the Hamburg days, after being heckled by a rambunctious crowd for over 2 hours straight to play something that could put Buddy Rich to shame, Ringo finally cracked. He ran 64th notes down his drum kit in such a rapid succession that he started to glow bright orange, as if he were on fire. Rory and the rest of the band didn’t know what to do with their glowing orb of a drummer, but they didn’t have much time to fret on it anyways because the walls of the Kaiserkeller started to rattle and crack, which made the German audience, still recovering from WW2, duck for cover with a collective yelp.
“Ringo!” Rory tried to yell over the ear-splitting noise that was coming from Ringo as his orange glow got progressively brighter. Ringo couldn’t hear him because he was in the zone. The Auto Zone. “Quit it!!”
Ringo moved from his 64th notes to smacking away at his cymbals like he was releasing the rage of a thousand years. The middle of the dance floor started to cave in, swallowing those who couldn’t move away fast enough. If you listened closely, you could hear a deep, Liverpudlian laugh coming from the pit. The only reason Ringo didn’t cause the end of the world on this occasion was because, as he was about to start balancing his twirling drumsticks on his nose, his allergies (the thing that humbles us all) got the better of him, causing him to let out a loud sneeze that rocketed him away from his set. With his senses knocked back into him, Ringo gaped at the chaos in front of him and turned to Rory, who was gaping back at him with a look on his face that could only mean Ringo was out of the band.
This is the history of The Beatles that you don’t know about. Ringo was a freelancer for a brief moment in Hamburg before John, Paul, and George found him. There had been a rumor circulating that there was something wrong with Ringo, but when the three lads saw him standing outside of a club one cold evening, lighting a cigarette in his own solitude, they just assumed that everyone else was being mean and hinting at how big his nose was.
And just like that, Pete was out and Ringo was in, because John, Paul, and George had heard that Ringo could really bring the house down. Ringo had tried to warn his new band members on multiple occasions that he suspected there was something wrong with him, but all of them insisted that he was fine and that his nose really wasn’t that big, so he had nothing to worry about. Ringo wasn’t so sure about that but, following the Incident, he had braved the drums once again and managed to keep a steady beat without causing Armageddon. Needless to say, that didn’t mean he was any less nervous about playing. Luckily, he insisted enough times that he would never do a drum solo, and John, Paul, and George listened, though they did think he was a little bit looney.
And things were alright like this for a while, through the ups and downs of their career, playing across the globe to thousands of screaming fans. Ringo never once let his guard down: there were no solos coming from him, no matter how many people wanted it.
That fateful night in Hamburg felt like another life, so much so that Ringo nearly forgot about the unusual power he contained. It wasn’t until he was pushed to the edge that he remembered he held the fate of the world in the palm of his hand, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
The year was 1969, the holiest year of them all, and Ringo was about ready to thrust his head through some drywall, he was so fed up with his bandmates. The incessant bickering over which songs made the cut on the album and which didn’t were really starting to drive him up the wall. Maxwell’s Silver Hammer was just the icing on the cake.
“We need another take on that one,” Paul announced to the band with an air of authority that Ringo wished he could strangle. They had just finished playing through their forty-seventh take and, although Paul was acting like it wasn’t his fault, it was absolutely his fault that they had to play the damn song again. For someone who acted like he was the leader of the band, Paul sure was having trouble remembering his baloney lyrics.
Without a word, John let his guitar slip out of his hands so it clunked to the ground in an amplified drop, its buzzing filling the room. John left them like that, stomping to the door and letting himself out, back to sanity. George gazed longingly at the door like he wanted to follow behind John, but he knew too well that Paul wasn’t going to let that happen. Completely unbothered by John, Paul turned to face the engineers in the sound booth and motioned in a grand gesture for them to start a new tape.
George looked across at Ringo and Ringo stared blankly back at him. He was really trying to repress everything he was feeling.
“Take 48,” George Martin nervously announced into their headphones, like he knew he was stoking a fire.
“Ringo, I’m gonna need some more umph on that drum part,” Paul turned back to Ringo with a smug look stretched across his face. “If you can handle it.”
That was it. That was freaking it. That was the line. The line’s way back there. Paul crossed that line. He crossed that line so hard it’s not even funny.
Ringo stood from his kit but, unlike John, he didn’t book it for the door. Instead, he rushed around the room, gathering every single percussion instrument he could find.
“I’ll give you umph,” he growled at Paul. In return, Paul smiled back at him because that was exactly what he wanted. In between them, George grabbed at his head. His two mates were really making him question why they were his mates in the first place.
“Take 48!” Paul called up to George Martin, spinning his finger around to motion that they start the tape. Then, he turned back to Ringo, who was staring at him with so much intensity it was a miracle Paul wasn’t sent flying backwards.
“One, two, one two three...”
Paul started to play the opening chords on his dinky little piano but Ringo wasn’t having any of that, oh no. He pounded into his snare drum so hard one of the drumsticks broke through the skin. Instead of pulling it out, Ringo left it there and grabbed a tambourine, which he proceeded to bang against his hi-hat. Paul wasn’t sure what Ringo was doing, but they had experimented enough in the past that he let it slide. George, on the other hand, was silently whispering prayers to himself as he stared at Ringo's glowing figure in horror. Ringo knew exactly what he was doing; if he did a drum solo, he could wreck their studio enough that he wouldn’t have to listen to Maxwell’s frickin Silver Hammer again. The trouble was, Ringo didn’t know when the right time was to stop.
By the time he started using two maracas as drumsticks on a timpani, Ringo began to slowly levitate. George’s whispered prayers were becoming louder from his panic. Up in the booth, it looked like the two remaining Beatles were performing an exorcism on Ringo.
“What the-” George Martin muttered. The boys must have stumbled across some new kind of street drug that really messed you up.
“Maxwell Anderson, majoring in medicine,” Paul cheerfully sang from his piano, his back turned to Ringo. Ringo started to shake in place, now suspended 5 feet above the ground, clicking castanets angrily while glaring down at Paul. George gaped as Ringo's color switched to a fiery, Kool Aid Man-red. It was bad. Paul continued to unknowingly play, but his left hand took a break to wipe some sweat from his brow. Someone must have turned up the heat, he mused to himself.
But no, it was Ringo, on the brink of causing a thermonuclear explosion. George was initially concerned for Ringo’s safety but, after seeing actual waves of heat emitted from his beige suit, George decided that his pal wasn’t worth it. He’d had some great memories with Ringo, but he could remember those later in therapy. For the meantime, he was getting the hell out of dodge, to wherever John had escaped to.
The problem was, Ringo’s power was sucking George so dry that he hardly had any energy left in him to move. It was like the goddamn relativity cadenza all over again. The more Ringo banged out the drum solo of the millenium, the more powerful he became. No one could stop him, he was a god. Ringo, god of the bongos. The most feared of them all.
Something caused Paul to finally turn around (probably Mal missing his cue to play the anvil because he was too distracted by whatever the hell Ringo was up to) and, when he did, his jaw dropped.
“Wot the fuck Ringo?” he shouted. They hadn’t agreed that Ringo could become a celestial being during their recording session. At that moment, John barged back in through the door, ready to give his half-hearted apology to Paul. That was quickly thrown in the trash when John looked up at their drummer, who now resembled a ball of fire, like the sun or something. (Even though it seems appropriate, no, unfortunately George didn’t write Here Comes the Sun about this event - that song had already been recorded at this point). John, as terrified as he was, couldn’t help but let out a loud cackle at the spectacle that was playing out in front of him. He knew that their session for Maxwell’s Silver Hammer had been bad, but he didn’t realize it was this bad, so much so that their drummer was spontaneously combusting.
“Silence, mortal!” Ringo boomed down at John, not even missing a beat on his woodblock solo.
That got John to shut up pretty fast.
“No one dares laugh at the almighty and powerful Ringo!” Ringo continued, his words practically searing through everyone’s skulls. “I can end you with the crash of a cymbal, I can tear this planet apart, piece by piece with only the sheer power of my mind!”
“Good for you, Ringo,” Paul stammered out as he tried to hide behind his piano. Paul was smart to pick up on the fact that, out of all of them, Ringo probably had the biggest score to settle with him. He really sincerely hoped that his charm would be enough to keep Ringo from smiting him but, just to be extra safe, he threw one of his famous winks Ringo’s way. Ringo, in turn, glared at Paul and pulled out a triangle.
“With a single ding on this triangle,” Ringo bellowed out, so loudly that everyone in England could hear him, “our planet will cease to exist.” He floated closer to Paul and Paul in return tried to back up, though he quickly found himself pushed against the wall. “Is that enough umph for you, Paul?” Ringo sneered back at him. Paul tried to respond that Ringo really didn’t have to do that and, actually take 14 had come out pretty good, but he found all of his words trapped in his throat. Ringo’s power was too overwhelming. Ringo seemed satisfied that he had terrified Paul so much that he finally shut his yap and, to really gloat in his glory, his hand slowly crept towards the triangle.
The closer Ringo got to hitting that triangle, the bigger he got. The image was straight out of Alice in Wonderland - in a matter of seconds, Ringo had grown too big to fit in their studio. That didn’t matter much, as the heat coming off of him helped sear away the wooden ceiling so it came crashing around him.
He’s really getting a big head, John mused to himself, though he didn’t dare make his observation out loud, which was a good decision because he would have been a goner otherwise. At this point, Ringo’s feet stretched the entire length of the studio (or, what remained of it) and his head was well above the skyline of London, where everyone could see him and scream with horror before going, “Wait, is that Ringo Starr from the Beatles?”
Ringo was only inches away from the triangle now and London had never been hotter. The ocean was starting to dry up on the coast, fields were bursting in flames at random, and children started asking their parents why they didn’t have more fans in their houses. Alongside the heat, the ground started to quiver before shaking, rattling, and rolling. Cars rocked in the street, smashing into each other, and trees and buildings started to tilt sideways, like wannabe Leaning Towers of Pisa. People were starting to panic, because nothing this exciting had ever happened in England before.
“Ringo!” George tried to call up to his mate, though he knew it was no use, considering how high up Ringo was. “Please, stop it!” John and Paul heard George’s desperate pleas over the commotion and joined in, falling to their knees and clasping their hands together, begging with all the energy they had left.
“We’ll let you have more songs on our album!” John tried.
“I’ll bring you more flowers,” George tried.
“We’ll stop recording Maxwell’s Silver Hammer for once and for all!” Paul tried without really thinking.
Ringo was a millimeter away from making contact with the triangle. But then, he stopped. And, faster than you could say “Maxwell Anderson,” the shaking and heat stopped. Ringo had almost instantly shrunk himself back down to his normal size and was no longer glowing a searing red. He calmly set the triangle down on the stool next to his kit and turned around to look at Paul, John, and George.
“Good,” was all he had to say. And, with that, he turned on his heel and strutted out of the practically demolished studio, whistling a happy tune to himself. Left behind, Paul, John, and George all tried to compose themselves.
“A new rule for the band,” Paul started slowly, “let’s not mess with Ringo.”
“Agreed,” John was quick to respond.
“Agreed,” George repeated.
#beatles ask#beatles fanfiction#ringo starr#george harrison#paul mccartney#john lennon#idk why I made paul a jerk here#sorry paul fans#ringo is a metaphysical being
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Orange Blossom At The Bottom Of A Shot Glass
Summary: Salty is followed by sour, which should always be followed by sweet.
Word Count: almost 3.7k
Warning: little cursing, little sexual tension, a bunch of sweet and fluff
Author Notes: ::taps on mic:: Soooo it’s been a GOOD while. The muse has been a little bit of a fickle bitch. Or a lot of one, actually. Also didn’t help that the last piece I wrote totally went a hard boom splat - gee thanks tall idiot Canadian one for that :P
HOWEVER, the muse decided to let go with some of the hockey boys and me play with some words for J’s Winter Writing Challenge. I’m just one day off deadline, though I still want to fill the other 1-2 I was thinking of. Thank you J for pulling this all together, you’re a peach.
This one, is the first attempt at writing Tyler, so please be kind to a girl. It was fun to play in this little part of my hockeysphere/hockeyblr.
I’m also maybe possibly most likely making this into a verse/series. Cause y’all should know that’s how I roll.
The prompt from the challenge was: “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“From the cute one in the three piece purple suit at the end of the bar, said to get you another of whatever you’re drinking,” Misty says, sliding the half-sugar rimmed martini glass across the copper bar top. “Wouldn’t even entertain doing this if I didn’t know most of them.”
“Thanks Mis,” you smile, pushing your empty glass towards her.
You peek down slyly towards the right. A gaggle of tall, well dressed men circle the far end. You think some look familiar. Then you see who Misty meant when he turns towards the front of the bar and towards where you’re sitting. You know straightaway who he is, know the reputation, the rumblings. It’s hard not to, as big as Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex is, it’s not at the same time. It also helps that you’ve been a hockey fan since birth, paying attention to the boys in green since you moved to Dallas a handful of years ago.
“Misty are you fucking kidding me?” you snap when she wanders back towards you.
“Nope,” she grins like the cat who got the canary. “You should go over and say thank you. Promise you, you may think you know, but he’s a good guy. The lot of them are.”
You shake your head no, downing half your drink in one sip before wiping your finger against the glass to lick at some of the sanding sugar. Misty’s blood orange martinis are your favorite, and a weakness you cannot kick when she’s got the good stuff in stock.
“Give me a blank tabcard and a pen,” you ask. “How many of them are down there? Do a round of shots on my bill, but lemme think of what to send while I write this.”
Misty places one of her pens, a card and your Visa to the right of your cocktail. You carefully fold the card in half, tearing it in two. On one half you cleanly script out your name and cell number while on the second half, you write a cheeky little note:
If you can figure out what the shot is, Misty has something for you. Thanks for the martini, the second always hits better especially when you lick the sugar rim.
“Mis, do you know how to make a reckless slut?” you snicker, capping the pen.
“Red-headed slut, but with whiskey instead of Jaeger yeah?” she questions, looking underneath the bar for a bigger, clean cocktail shaker.
“Honey whiskey if you’ve got it,” you respond, polishing off the rest of your martini before gathering your things. “Then it’s just a touch lighter on the peach. If he can guess it right, then you give him the second half of the note.”
“You got it, I’ll see you,” she waves, off to the middle of the bar to find more ingredients.
You carefully glance down towards the opposite end, noticing the boys all wrapped up so you carefully slip out to make your exit, smiling and shaking your head.
“I’m absolutely insane,” you say out loud to yourself as you head towards your car.
“Segs, my girl left this for you and a round on her for the rest of the motley crew,” Misty explains, slipping him the first card before handing out the shot glasses.
“What she say?” Jamie nudges.
“Other than I missed her licking the rim of her glass?” he chides. “I need to guess what this is and then Misty has something for me, supposedly.”
“I do,” Misty replies, handing the rest of the shots out. “She picked a bit of a good one to leave for you too. Cheers boys, bellow if you need anything.”
He lifts the glass, sniffing it at first, not having any clue.
“J, Rads you guys have any idea?” Tyler asks, they both shake their head.
“Bottoms up,” Jamie adds before they all tip the shots back.
“Anybody?” Tyler pushes again, glasses clicking on the copper.
“I know,” a voice chimes in from the back, dropping the empty shot glass onto the bar.
“Come on then Dicky,” Tyler urges.
He looks at Tyler, trying to hold back a laugh but it doesn’t work.
“It’s a reckless slut,” he manages out between his laughter. “It’s something else dark in place of Jägermeister. Slightly fitting, eh?”
The group busts out in hoops, hollers and their own peals of laughter while Tyler shoves at the one closest to him, this time it’s Alex.
“Whiskey, honey whiskey actually, so nice one there Jason. Winner gets this,” Misty trills happily, wiggling a card in front of the group.
“Hey, wait a second,” Tyler snaps, trying to lean over to snatch the card from the bartender.
“That’s the rules she set,” she says, flicking the card over to his teammate. “Take it up with him, he got it right.”
“What’s it worth?” Jason grins, fist bumping with Misty before turning more towards Tyler.
“Not whatever you’re scheming in that brain of yours,” he takes a pull off his beer.
“I was just gonna say take care of dinner tonight, but if it’s not worth that,” Jason trails off.
“Damnit Dicky,” he sighs, hand flexing around the bottle.
“Let’s go boys, they’re ready for us,” Joe interjects from the outskirts of the group, nodding to the back dining room. “And we like it here so no bloodshed, ok?”
You’re just about to slip the key into your front door lock when your phone buzzes in quick repeated blips. You juggle everything in, snag a bottle of water from the fridge before plopping down on the couch to see what has your phone trilling.
So, Tyler didn’t win the challenge, I did and Misty followed the rules passing it to the winner! Hi, I’m Jason.
::selfie of Jason with the boys scattered about behind him at the bar::
I’m refusing for a bit to give him your number. Want to spare and maybe prepare you before I do. Plus, it’s fun to watch him squirm for a bit when it comes to shit like this.
The reckless slut shot was a nice touch, so I’m hopeful in assuming when you spotted us, him really, you kind of knew who was all down at that end of the bar. Probably have heard some things about his adventures and antics, cause who hasn’t.
I can tell you most of it is blown out of proportion, don’t get me wrong he has his fun, but he’s not an asshole.
Maybe we can all do lunch after practice? I’m happy to play buffer if you don’t want to deal with him solo. We’ll go somewhere solid and make him pick it up :)
You cannot help but smile when flipping through the messages, making sure to save both Jason’s number and ridiculous selfie to your contacts list. You fire off a quick thanks text to Misty before you settle in to figure out the best reply to Jason.
You’re a good teammate and a better friend. I would also make him squirm for a bit too, little shit deserves a bit of discomfort.
I appreciate that, Jason – thank you. I know better than to judge a book by its cover, but it’s hard when the Cliffs Notes versions are face up all over the place. Plus, a lady can never be too careful.
Want to try lunch next week, the three of us? I can’t remember what your upcoming game sitch is like, sorry. Maybe PS214? Something good that’s not too fussy, but chill. Plus, they should have enough options for whatever your nutritionist wants you boys to try to stick to or options to totally cheat out on.
I’ve got some flex in my schedule for lunches, my later afternoons get to be what’s stickier.
You know they were having a team dinner, so you don’t expect a response right away, so you pull yourself together to wash up and get to bed. You wake up to a flurry of more texts the next morning, plans for lunch Monday their practice and a video clip of the two of them, which was utterly ridiculous and adorable at the same time. It eased your tensions just a touch, but lunch would be the kicker.
“There’s my favorite foodie,” Phil the manager says, hugging you immediately. “I was so happy to see your name on the reservations. Is this a work thing or a pleasure thing?”
“Little of both, I’ve got two possibly three of Dallas’ favorite hockey team joining me which is why I asked about the back-corner alcove,” you explain. “But I also want to taste some of the new things you’ve been floating both at the bar and on the menu. Nothing formal yet, but I’m thinking of trying to pull together something around new happy hour approaches.”
“I think one of your lunch companions just walked in,” Phil responds, as you catch someone walking towards the two of you from the corner of your eye. “I know him and his wife, they’ve been in a few times. Hey Jason, nice to see you.”
“Hey Phil, wasn’t sure if you’d be here, good to see you. You’ve met one half of my lunch date already?” he shakes Phil’s hand before reaching for yours.
“She and I run in the same circles, mutual friends, some projects that have crossed paths,” Phil adds. “We’re waiting on one more, yes?”
His phone trills, “It’s Segs, he’s parking now and apologized for being late. He had to let the pups out because his dog sitter couldn’t get there early today.”
“I was early, force of habit, so no worries,” you reply. “He’s going to be pretty much on time in the grand scheme. Plus, I got some actual work done talking to Phil before you got here, so it’s all good.”
“Jason, you best not be trying to steal her from me already,” Tyler claps his shoulder before setting his eyes on you. “You’ve got someone waiting for you at home.”
You can’t help but half roll your eyes and half chuckle, “Nice to officially meet you, Tyler.”
He reaches out, his hand easily dwarfs yours, “You too, Clementine.”
“If you are all ready, we’ve got the table you asked for set,” Phil nods to the right, into the dining room.
“You were mentioning your work when I came in?” Tyler questions as you all sit down.
“I guess you could say I’m a lifestyle writer, mostly food and drink but I’ve dabbled in some travel,” you say. “I started out with my own blog back when I was in college trying to figure out what I wanted to do with life and it kind of got a following from there. I refuse to say influencer, cause no I’m not. Not my schtick. Actual writing pays the bills, not sponsored Instagram or blog posts. I refused to let my baby No Fork become something tainted like that, I think why it became so successful.”
“Wait, wait. You’re A Girl With No Fork? Seriously, my wife is obsessed with your insta page and the blog,” Jason exclaims. “She’s going to lose her ish that I’m having lunch with you.”
“Still blogging but keeping that a little more separate now a days. There’s more bylines with Infatuation, Food and Wine, a good deal with some the local papers. I may have a piece end up with Bon Appetite if this pitch I’m working on comes to fruition,” you explain, taking a sip of what Phil just placed in front of you. “Trying to keep a little of that anonymity left to keep Fork as respected as it is. Your wife and I need to brunch at some point then.”
Phil comes by to ask about any allergies or dietary restrictions, the rest is up to him and the chef, and you know you’re all in good hands.
“So, a pretty girl with a unique name,” Tyler leads. “Feels like there’s probably a good story there.”
“I was a surprisingly early baby, literally my Mom went into labor at 35 weeks and in an orange grove. That was her craving when she was pregnant with me, a ton of citrus. Hence the name,” you smile. “It’s rare I hear anyone other than her use my full name anymore. Even my pen name for my byline on pieces uses my initials. Friends mostly call me C or Em.”
“No Emmy?” Tyler questions.
You shake your head, cheeks flushing. You’ve never allowed that by anyone; not that anyone has ever tried that out for size. It always felt to too special to you, wanting to hold on to that for the right person.
“Let me see these puppies that made you late,” you divert.
“Once you get him started on the three stooges, you cannot go back,” Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” you smile, making grabby hands for his phone. “Come on I know you’ve got a ton of photos and videos on there.”
“They’re definitely a handful, and not so much puppies anymore. Though Gerry would fight me on that, he’s the baby,” Tyler grins wide before pulling up a video of three dogs running around like crazy in what looks to be his backyard pool.
Lunch was more of the same, good food, good conversation and a bunch of joking around. Smart play by Jason to recommend it this way, he’s as much of a sweetheart as his texts made him out to be and helps ease some of the worries you had about Tyler. And Tyler, you found yourself gravitating to him a lot more than you thought you would. You all didn’t realize it until the shift change was happening how long you actually spent in the back booth. As you’re saying goodbye, hugs are passed around between the group of you this time.
“We’re keeping you around by the way,” Tyler whispers in your ear. “Welcome to the crew.”
You fall into a quirky but easy friendship with Tyler and Jason after that, eventually Jamie too once the boys drag him to one of your tasting outings. It evolves quickly from random texting to grabbing meals and drinks, hanging out after games, even meeting Tyler at the dog park to finally meet his trio of crazy pups during one of your crazy timed breaks in your schedule that matched up before he needed to get into his pre-game routine.
Gerry is running amok hopping around with a German Sheppard while Cash just wants Tyler to throw a stick for him to fetch repeatedly. Marshall, however, has taken residence with his head in your lap.
“I know your younger brothers are insane,” you coo, rubbing the chocolate lab’s ear as he nuzzles into your thigh. “I’m sorry I have to leave you with them in a few.”
“So soon?” Tyler asks, tossing Cash’s favorite stick a little father. “You like just got here. He also just doesn’t cuddle like that with anyone. Feel special, so you shouldn’t leave him either.”
“Only a quick break today. Deadlines looming and a bourbon tasting that need to get done if I’m meeting you guys later after the game,” you explain, fingers digging into Marshall’s fur again.
“At some point you do need to come to a game,” he sasses as Cash comes barreling into his legs, Gerry not far behind. “I know you’re a hockey fan, you can’t hide that Em.”
“Perhaps maybe,” you tease, rolling your eyes sticking your tongue out at him. “Ok Marsh, I’m sorry buddy but I gotta go.”
Marshall just slides his head further into your lap, while now Cash head butts your free hand as Gerry crashes into your legs.
“I’m so sorry boys, we’ll have another playdate soon I promise,” you call to them as you pet all their heads.
“Where’s my goodbye pets and love?” he cheekily leans his head towards you.
“Oh Ty,” rolling your eyes as you get up.
You lean in as you were going to kiss his cheek, but you just tweak his nose and flip his snapback off, “See you tonight superstar.”
Misty is thankfully behind the bar again tonight at Oak and Cork, except this time you’re in the middle of the crazy group instead of the far end of the bar.
“You hitting that yet?” Alex grins wiggling his eyebrows and nodding to where you’re leaning against the bar talking to Misty while she makes your drink.
Tyler shoves his teammate, “Dude.”
“First off, don’t be crass. Em is in the damn room. And that’s a no by the way,” Jason rolls his eyes at Alex after handing off glasses to the two of them. “He most definitely wants to; I think that she does too. They just won’t actually talk about it.”
“She sent you reckless slut shots, I think you can talk to her about fucking,” Alex replies, taking a pull from his drink.
“Emmy. She’s not just some random girl to dick and dump, Rads. Fucks sake,” he sighs, hand threading through his hair as he looks over in your direction where you’re talking with Jamie, Joe and his wife.
“Emmy, eh? That speaks volumes. Just ask her already,” Jason interjects. “We’re all tired of your crank ass. I’m going to find my better half.”
“He’s right,” Alex taps his glass against Tyler’s. “Go to her. Ask her. Kiss her. Less cranky, more goals, more fucking.”
Tyler shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He snags a bottle of beer from one of the buckets left out on the bar for the group before he looks for somewhere to take a breather. You catch him stalking off to the patio, amber glass clenched in his hand with his brows knitted together.
“He ok?” you ask Jamie, pointing towards the door where Tyler’s walking through.
“That’s not a good Tyler face,” he sighs. “I should…”
“No, stay. I’ll go check,” you interrupt, polishing off your martini to head outside.
“Hard to have congratulatory drinks when the first star of the game is hiding out on the patio,” you call out.
He shrugs, not turning around at first but you can see the tension across his shoulders even through his dress shirt. You take a couple steps out towards him.
“Hey, come on. Can’t be that bad. Right? Nothing’s wrong with the pups? Your family?” you tread carefully not knowing what could have happened between the dog park and that moment.
He turns around slowly, not looking up at first.
“Tyler, what’s going on?” your concern lacing through your voice clearly.
“I still think about that night here, you know?” he starts, placing his bottle on the railing next to him before leaning back against it. “I was intrigued, girl at a bar alone on a Friday night. Gorgeous one at that. She kind of saw right through me but dished it back unexpectedly and pretty well. Then, then that damn chaperoned lunch. Kind of just rolled from there.”
“Ty, what are you saying?” you need to make sure where he’s going with this.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, it’s exhilarating and unnerving,” he fights out, coming off the railing. “I still think about kissing you, wanting that, all the damn time.”
“Tyler,” you begin, trying to move closer.
“Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Tyler fights out, hands flexing at his side but looking you straight in the eye.
You can see the clench of his jaw clearly from there, the fire he’s holding back in his eyes. Your breath catches, your heart skips and your stomach flips.
“What if I’m ok with that?” you whisper, slipping an inch closer.
“I need you to be sure, Clementine,” he looks at you carefully, pupils flicking wider.
“Clementine? Really Tyler?” you try to tease to lighten the thick air around the two of you.
“Emmy,” he exhales deeply. “Don’t. Please, not tonight. Not now.”
You nod once he opens his eyes, stepping closer.
“Use your words, Emmy,” he murmurs, one hand grasping your hip while the other comes to cup your cheek, thumb trailing across your skin. “I need to hear you say it, babygirl.”
You’re distracted for a moment, having him that close. His words swirl around your head, your senses are slightly overwhelmed by him. His cologne lingers in your nose and makes your eyes flutter.
“You don’t need to placate me though, I’m a big boy,” he says softly. “Friends is better than nothing.”
“I wouldn’t,” you jump in carefully. “It’s why I waited, why I’m saying yes now to you Ty.”
Tyler pulls you forward and claims your mouth. His tongue wicked, swiping at yours. Your hands slip up behind his neck with fingers tangling in his hair at the nape. You lose sense of time, all you can do is sink further into the kiss, and into him, until you’re out of breath.
“You taste like those damn orange martinis you love. I like it,” he sighs, knuckle trailing against your cheek. “I’ve never felt possessive, but fuck. The thought of anyone else sipping your sugar after that makes me see red, Emmy.”
“Is that the ass backwards Tyler way of asking me out?” you tease, popping up on your toes to nip at his bottom lip.
He surges forward and knocks the breath out of you with another bruising kiss.
“Come to my game tomorrow, wear my jersey. Let me show you off properly, let me take you home after, breakfast with the dogs on the patio in the morning,” he asks, this time his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “And the game after that and the next one after that, the next weeks and months ahead. Let me show you that I’m not that reckless slut you may think I am. You make me not want to be.”
You smile, nodding and pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb.
#tyler seguin#tyler seguin fic#tyler seguin imagine#tyler seguin writing#tyler seguin fluff#nhl fic#nhl fluff#hockey fic#hockey imagine#juliaswinterwriting
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Reminisce
Author: locke-writes
Title: Reminisce
Prompt: First Date - Blink 182, Steve Rogers For: @thefanficfaerie ‘s 3500 Follower Challenge
Rating: K
Word Count: 1,620
Marvel Taglist: @lotsoffandomimagines @lgbtonystarks
Steve should have known to be more clear with what Bucky could and couldn't say in his speech. With the years of friendship they'd had it seemed only obvious that Bucky would pull out some embarrassing story to pull out in front of friends and family. He wouldn't have minded if you'd heard this story from Bucky at any other point in time but of course Bucky had to use this particular story as his best man's speech.
"Now I saved the texts from this night because either Steve was going to be wrong or Steve was going to be right and I'd have evidence if he forgot what he said. So here's the story of the first date, as told by me through a serious of rambling texts Steve decided to send me. Honestly it's similar to his drunk texts but that's something I'll only share if you ask me in the middle of dinner."
Steve shook his head and turned to you after you squeezed his hand, you were grinning waiting for the story to progress.
Tony had been the one to set everything up insisting that you and Steve would get along perfectly. You hadn't the best luck when it came to being set up by Tony however this was Steve Rogers, a man you already knew somewhat about based on the news coverage and the stories that you'd heard from Tony. In most situations you would have refused, instead you caved, agreeing to let Tony pass on your number for Steve to contact you.
That's how it started, some texts and a few phone calls. Steve apologized for being busy most of the time, apologies which you refused to accept as he was saving the world so it was completely understandable that he couldn't always make time for other things. You also kind of liked getting to know him before the first date, it was like online dating only you had the validity of knowing who he was and who his friends were before meeting for the first time. It had been a month of talking before the actual first date, dinner at a diner in the city that Steve said made him feel at least a little bit at home. Not that it was one of those retro diners just that the food was similar to a place he used to go as a kid, he emphasized which made you laugh.
When you agreed to the first date Steve was ecstatic yet now he was mostly panic. He was supposed to be meeting you in three hours which he knew was still plenty of time for him to get ready but the additional problem was that he was completely unprepared. He had already gone through his closet trying to find a shirt to where, he'd sent Bucky pictures of about eight choices. Bucky's response was to go with the blue dress shirt although by the time he replied Steve had already sent him pictures of about five other shirts.
In total it took Steve forty five minutes just to pick a shirt out, twenty minutes for pants, fifteen for socks, and about an hour to decide how to do his hair. In total by the time he had finished getting ready there was only thirty minutes left for him to get to where he needed to be.
To say Steve was nervous when he reached the diner would be an understatement. He was terrified. Talking to someone on the phone was easy enough; the only judgements made were based on what you spoke on or general opinions. Now that you were meeting in person, it meant that you were about to get Steve as he was, flaws and all. The terrifying part of it all was that what if you didn’t like what you saw; what if there was a flaw in Steve that you couldn’t look past even after all the getting to know one another was nearly out of the way. He hoped he was wrong about this, that it was just anxiety getting the best of him but he couldn’t know, wouldn’t know, until he sat down in front of you.
For a second Steve thought he was late as he walked through the front door of the diner to see you already seated at a booth of to the side. You smiled at him, waving him over and he apologized for running behind as he sat down only to learn that you had both arrived a little early. It was odd at first trying to get into the rhythm of a first date with someone you already knew so much about. First dates were meant to be awkward, they had always been awkward for the both of you, not knowing what to ask and not wanting to learn everything all at once. With Steve it was different you’d been through the first date questions, you knew his life story like he knew your own, it felt more like a seventh date than a first but the fear that somehow you’d screw everything up was still there. Which was why Steve decided to text Bucky that he thought he was going to screw everything up on the date after you had gone to the bathroom for a second. Bucky just texted back that Steve needed to take a breath and reevaluate, you hadn’t left yet and Steve hadn’t said anything too embarrassing which meant it was going as well as could be for Steve.
Steve doubted Bucky but decided to fight the show of any nerves in front of you. If you noticed anything, you never said anything, for which Steve was grateful. The dinner went smoothly, Steve barely making a fool of himself when he choked on his drink because you made him laugh with a terrible joke. You were pleased that he actually had laughed, it was not one of your better jokes and you had a tendency to laugh at your own jokes rather than get a laugh out of others. There wasn’t anything planned for after dinner. Neither of you had really thought that far ahead mainly because you both feared Steve would have to reschedule or leave in the middle of it all, you would have understood but the fact that nothing had happened meant that now you were both floundering trying to come up with ideas of what to do next.
Steve suggested a movie although you turned him down for two reasons. One, it was hard to talk to someone when you were meant to be quiet in a theater and you did not want to stop your conversation with Steve. Two, the more superficial reason, you had not been interested in anything in theaters. Instead the both of you wandered around the streets window-shopping at a few stores before finding an independent bookstore which you suggested entering. Steve used this opportunity to broach the fact that he had been frozen in the ice for three quarters of a century and had missed an abundance of literature.
For Steve it was a little overwhelming to enter the shop, even more so as he began realizing everything he was looking for was located in the Classics section. You had taken it upon yourself to suggest that both you and Steve select at least three favorites to share with one another. Steve just hoped that you had not read any of his selections and was lucky enough to find that you had considered them at some point but had never picked them up. Rather than choose three books you felt Steve should read in order to catch up on what literature he had missed, you decided to go for modern reads. He did not say anything to you when given the selections although he was grateful to find that you weren’t trying to pile years of information onto him.
The two of you spent another hour in the café each reading one of the selected books. Part way through it was you who struck up conversation, this time about shared interests.
“What I meant to say is that you’d probably be a Yankees fan now or I suppose a Mets fan but if you wanted to stick with the Dodgers then they’re in LA although there is a Yankees – Dodgers game in two weeks if you wanted to”
Only about halfway through a sentence had you realized that you were partially suggesting ideas for the next date.
“I mean not as a date or anything although I wouldn’t be opposed just that it’s happening and you could get tickets although I mean you don’t need tickets since you’re you and you know what I’m going to shut up”
Steve grinned, “I’d normally not plan ahead since I never know what’s about to happen that I’ll be called for but that sounds like a good third date”
“Third?” you questioned
“Supposing that you’d be available as well as willing to have dinner next week?”
“Ok. Second date next week and third date at the game. It’s a deal.”
After Steve dropped you off at your apartment he texted Bucky before walking back to his own home.
We're going to get married. Don't worry, you'll be my best man. - SR
"Now at the time I thought it was to early to tell, but I guess I was the wrong one in this situation because here we all are at their wedding. Congrats to you both and just now I still have more embarrassing stories where that came from?" Bucky concluded.
Steve was blushing and in response to the story that had just been told, you kissed him.
#locke writes#marvel#steve rogers#marvel imagine#steve rogers imagine#marvel fic#steve rogers fic#marvel fanfic#steve rogers fanfic#marvel oneshot#steve rogers oneshot
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Anything You Want || Paul Bissonnette and Tyler Seguin
Requested: [ ] yes [x] no
Authors Note: So I was in a total nsfw mood tonight and asked for some people to send me ideas. One of my group chats said I should definitely go with Bissonnette sex but suggested I add Seguin in there. I twisted their suggested prompt a little but anyway. It’s really dirty...so enjoy.
Warnings: smut, smut and more smut.Threesome. Oral sex, actual sex, anal sex. Oh and breeding kink/actual breeding (unprotected sex) because evidently I can’t control myself.
Word Count: 3,804
Dating Paul Bissonnette meant that your sex life was never something that could be described as boring or regular. Paul was older than you and certainly more experienced inside (and technically outside, hello airport sex) the bedroom. Still, he’d never made you feel comfortable, in fact, he was probably the best teacher you could ask for when it came to all things intimate.
When you’d first gotten together, things had been kept fairly tame, vanilla even, behind closed doors as you learned each other’s likes and dislikes, and what made each of you fall apart. Now that things were more serious as far as the relationship went, things inside the bedroom were shifting as well. One could say that you were very much in the experimental phase of things. Still, even now Paul still had the upper hand in experience and everything that was brought up was something he had tried before and had already decided whether it’s something he likes or not.
Unsurprisingly, Paul’s hard ‘no’s’ were things that you honestly had no desire to try and most of his ‘yes’s’ were things you were eager for as well. There honestly wasn’t much of a middle ground where there was something you wanted that he wasn’t the biggest fan of....except...shockingly, a threesome. Paul claimed that he had been there and done that before and that it was something that he felt like he’d grown out of. He hadn’t said it was something that would never happen, but it didn’t seem like something that would happen anytime soon, especially not without some prodding on your end.
That’s probably why Paul’s text tonight had caught you so off guard. You’d come to Toronto with him for a week of summer vacation while he filmed Biz does Ontario. While he filmed, you played tourist, got a massage, and just generally took some time out of your busy life to relax. Tonight he’d gone out to meet up with some buddies and you’d stayed in, curled up with a new book.
It was almost ten when your phone buzzed and setting your book aside as you finished a chapter, heat flooded your body.
Put on that black lingerie set and that dress you know I like and come to 70 Yorkville Ave.
His text was suggestive enough to tell you that he had something planned but too vague to tell you exactly what it was. Still, you knew by now that when Paul had something up his sleeve it was best to just play along. So you quickly changed into the requested attire, threw your hair up into a messy and somewhat sexy bun, and applied a smokey makeup look before grabbing your things, slipping into a pair of heels and heading out the door.
When you arrived at the lounge you looked around but didn’t spot Paul anywhere. Shooting him a text that you were there you made your way over to the bar and ordered yourself a glass of wine, your anticipation rising. Even sipping slowly, you’d finished your first glass of wine and you still hadn’t spotted your boyfriend. Just as you were about to text him again, a warm hand landed on your lower back and a voice called for the bartender to pour you another glass while ordering a beer for himself.
Your body had tensed at the touch and you quickly spun to tell whoever it was that had decided to get handsy off.
“Ex…” before you could even finish your first word your eyes met the cocky gaze of a certain Dallas Stars forward and you froze. The fact that Tyler Seguin was standing beside you with his hand on your lower back should have signaled exactly what your boyfriend had planned, however, your brain failed to put the pieces together quickly.
“I’m sorry...did you not want another?” The tone of his voice was almost patronizing and for a split second, you wanted to slap him.
“No...I...yes…” You stuttered out. “But I have a boyfriend.” Something about your words made Tyler laugh and after taking a sip of his beer he leaned closer and whispered in your ear.
“Well, I won’t tell him if you won’t.” When your body instinctively recoiled because the last thing you’d ever do was cheat on Paul, Tyler’s facial expressions cracked for a moment before leaning in close again. “Would you just play along?” Having felt his breath on your skin one moment and then having it be gone the next made you shiver and seeing Tyler looking away from the bar made you follow his gaze. What your eyes met was your boyfriend who had his normal sexy smirk on and who was clearly watching the two of you.
At that moment, you looked between Paul and Tyler and when you returned your gaze to the former he was clearly mouthing something to you, his body language more relaxed than it should be for someone else hitting on you. It was then that everything hit you at once...this was Paul’s plan. This was him giving in to what you wanted. A flush rose on your cheeks as you smiled at him sending him a short nod before turning your attention back to Tyler who smirked once more realizing that you were now in on the whole plan.
Grazing your fingers along the muscles of Tyler’s forearm you couldn’t help but imagine those arms pinning you down on the bed while he fucked you.
“So you like hitting on taken women.” You tease, sipping at your wine before purposely licking a drop of the liquid off of your lips. At your action, Tyler’s adam’s apple bobbed and there was a tick in his jaw as it tightened.
“I like hitting on attractive women.” He responded voice low, his body stepping half a step closer to your own, boxing you in against the bar. “And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” It was then that you realized his hand was still pressed against your back as it dipped lower to rest just above your ass.
“And if I was supposed to meet him here…?” You whispered, your hand moving from his arm to graze for just a moment over his abs.
“Well then maybe he should join us.” The words were said in such a matter of fact manner that even though you knew that’s where this was headed, they still stole your breath for a moment. Heat was already pooling in your stomach when Tyler’s teeth grazed over your ear as he spoke. “I bed you’d like to be fucked from both ends.”
If you hadn’t been sitting you probably would have toppled over. You were about to look back for Paul wondering just how this was going to proceed when you felt a second hand land on your back and the scent of your boyfriend’s cologne filled your nose. Reaching for your class of wine you quickly finished it off, and as you set the empty glass back on the bar, you felt Paul’s breath against your other ear.
“You gonna be a good girl baby and let Tyler and I fuck you? I told him what a good girl you are but he said he’d have to see it to believe it.” You couldn’t help but nod, conscious thought starting to leave you, as the combination of the alcohol and heat of two huge male bodies surrounded you.
The next thing you know, the check has been paid and you’re being led out of the bar into an SUV. As you reach the vehicle, Tyler tosses Paul the keys and opens the backdoor for you before sliding inside with you.
“You know where you’re going man?” Tyler asks and when Paul nods and starts the car, Tyler’s attention turns to you. Out of habit, you buckle yourself up and Tyler and Paul exchange a quick look in the rearview mirror before they both do the same. “Guess it would put a damper on things if we were killed before the fun started,” Tyler muttered.
As soon as Paul pulled into the Toronto streets, Tyler’s hand falls to your thigh and slowly starts moving upward. The rough callouses of his fingers cause you to shiver and unconsciously you spread your legs wanting his touch higher and closer to your core. “That’s it baby. I know you want me.” Tyler breathes into your ear. For a moment, his hand moves up to cup your face and then he’s kissing you, his tongue quickly probing at your mouth for access. Needing to tease just a bit, you refuse access until Tyler’s hand returns to your body, slipping under your dress and finding your clit.
Your moan gives him what he wants and you can feel him smirking as you kiss passionately, his hand just resting against your inner thigh. When you finally need to breathe and pull back, Tyler’s eyes are dark and he pinches at the skin of your inner thigh. “So you’re gonna be a brat. Paul didn’t tell me that.” He mumbles, his mouth dropping to your neck to bite a mark deep into your skin. The pain of it sends a jolt through your body and you whine softly.
Before things can progress any farther, the car stops and you feel your seat belt slacken as Tyler’s fingers unlatch it before tugging you out of the car, causing you to stumble on your heels. Paul is behind you before you can regain your balance and his lips are pressed to the back of your neck. With Tyler’s hand in yours, he tugs you through the parking garage and into an elevator and it’s only once you’re inside that you feel a strong smack across your rear and you glance up to see that Paul’s eyes are dark as well.
“I thought I told you to be good for him.” He growls softly and you chew softly on your bottom lip, eyes downcast. You know he’s not actually angry and that his actions are just part of all of this so you play along.
“I’m sorry daddy...just wanted to ease into things.” You whisper. Before either man can respond further, the elevator has come to a stop and you see Paul toss Tyler his keys back so that he can lead you down the hall and into his Toronto apartment. Once the door opens both men kick off their shoes but Tyler glares at you when you move to slip off your own.
“Leave them.” He growls, taking his chance to smack at your ass firmly but gently. “Bedroom is the second door on the left. Take off your dress but leave everything else on and go kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed.” His voice is demanding and when you meet Paul’s gaze his eyes tell you to obey.
By the time they join you in the bedroom you’ve been kneeling on the floor for at least five minutes, nipples pebbled through the lingerie from the chill of Tyler’s air conditioning. You can feel their eyes raking over your body but Paul clears his throat when you attempt to look up at them so you cast your head down again awaiting further instruction.
When a hand brushes over the top of your head gently twice you take that as a signal to look up. When you do Tyler is standing nude in front of you, his hard cock bobbing between his thighs. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Paul is also nude and is laying on the bed, hands behind his head.
“Need to know if this mouth is as good as Biz claims.” Tyler declares, his fingers tangling in your hair after taking out your bun, to pull your mouth closer to him. Wetting your lips you first lick at the tip of Tyler’s cock, tasting the precum leaking from it before slowly sinking your mouth forward to take as much of him as you can without triggering your gag reflex. Working your mouth over him the same way Paul has taught you he likes, you try and gauge what works for Tyler and what doesn’t. When he groans as you hum around him you grin slightly, feeling his cock twitch. Seconds later he pulls you off of him and to your feet, clearly signaling that he’s not ready to cum yet.
“Paul you’re a fucking lucky bastard if she wears shit like this for you frequently.” Tyler declares, his hands running over the fabric of your lingerie.
“Don’t I know it.” Paul declares and when you look over at him, he’s stroking his cock causing another wave of moisture to flood your core.
“It’s too pretty to get cum all over so I say it’s time we get you out of it.” Tyler declares and with Paul’s nod of approval, Tyler’s hands tug the fabric off of you and finally takes your heels off along with it. “Much better.” Tyler declares as he kisses you, one hand tangling in your hair. After a moment, a warm sticky substance coats the skin of your stomach and you quickly realize that Tyler���s other hand had been jerking himself off so that he could cover you in his cum. As he cums down from his orgasm, Tyler pulls away from you panting. “Go blow your boyfriend while I eat you out.”
Nodding you take the few steps over to the bed, climbing onto it to kiss Paul’s stomach before wrapping your mouth around his hard cock. Blowing Tyler hadn’t been bad but there was something about making Paul fall apart that was just so much better. As you work Paul’s cock in the way you know he likes you can’t help but moan feeling Tyler’s mouth blowing at your pussy before sucking your clit between his lips. Receiving oral sex is one of your favorite sexual acts and it gets even better when Paul’s fingers reach down to caress your breasts, pinching and rubbing your nipples until their hard and aching and sending jolts to meet the actions of Tyler’s mouth.
You can tell that Paul is getting close, even though your mind has started to go fuzzy with the approach of your own orgasm. Still, you didn’t expect Paul’s hand to tug at your hair as his hips jolt up into your mouth pressing his cock deeper down your throat. You gag a bit before trying to relax your mouth around him, taking him as deep as you possibly can. The way he’s grunting and breathing heavily tells you he’s close and you nuzzle your nose against him. The moment Paul starts to spurt down your throat you feel two of Tyler’s fingers slip inside you as he bites gently at your clit and the feeling of all of it at once tears an orgasm from your body much sooner than you expected it.
Collapsed with your head on Paul’s thigh you try and catch your breath while Tyler’s fingers rub gently at your clit in a way that is almost too much but yet not enough. When he stops you whimper but then Paul is dragging your body further up the bed to kiss you gently, giving you the bit of care that he knows you need in the situation before going any further.
Breaking the kiss after a moment, you look down to where Tyler is standing at the foot of the bed, his cock already hard again.
“Do you want him to fuck you babe?” Paul questions softly because he would never force you into anything you didn’t want and oral sex is one thing but this is another.
“Yes…” You respond wanting to feel both men stretching you out to your max. Anal sex was something that you and Paul had been experimenting with and this seemed like the right time to take it to the next level.
“Condoms and lube?” Paul asked and when Tyler pointed to a bedside drawer, Paul grabbed both items, tossing the condom down to Tyler. “If you’re gonna fuck her you have to glove up.” He declared. Tyler complied quickly, sliding the condom over his dick before kneeling on the bed.
“How are we doing this?” He asked and as always you looked to Paul for guidance.
“She’ll ride you and I’ll fuck her from behind.” With that direction, Paul and Tyler switched spots for a moment, Paul stealing one more proper kiss before smacking at your ass. “Show him how good that pussy feels. Tight like a vice grip.”
With Tyler spread out on the bed, you moved to straddle him, his hands quickly moving to your hips to steady you.
“You ready?” He asked and when you nodded, he lined himself up with your hole before allowing you to slowly sink down on him. The way your body stretched around him made your toes curl and you paused for a moment needing to adjust. “Fuck…” Tyler grunted, his hips flexing beneath you, clearly desiring movement. Slowly you began to bounce on him, the friction building and curling inside you deliciously.
After a moment, Paul guided you to a stop again so that he could work first one but then two lubed fingers inside your ass. After that, you resumed your slow pace, fucking Tyler while Paul worked his fingers to spread you open, eventually adding a third finger, scissoring them all inside you.
“Paul please...I need you.” You moaned, wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by these men, filled and stretched so full. Gradually, you rocked your hips faster against Tyler, needing more of everything, but every so often a shudder would course through your body that would cause you to just grind your pelvis against his, curses spilling from his mouth.
“Seriously dude...just fuck her ass already. She’s killing me.” Tyler declared and after a moment you felt the heat of Paul’s body as he pressed against your back. With one more stretch of his fingers inside you, they slipped out and as Paul murmured for Tyler to help brace you, his fingers were slowly replaced by his cock.
For a moment you couldn’t breathe, the feeling of being stuffed full from both ends being too much. You knew that Tyler was aching for you to move but Paul held you still, letting you adjust to him and kissing your head while pressing his hand against your stomach. Both men were so large that you were certain they could feel each other pressed inside you and the knowledge of that pushed you even closer to orgasm. Paul must have felt your body relax enough to satisfy him because after a moment he started fucking down into you causing you to shift on Tyler’s cock. Thankfully the two men figured out how to best fuck you between them because things had just started and you were already boneless at the feeling.
All sense of time and space was lost to you as you let yourself be used by Paul and Tyler. You had no idea how long they had been fucking you for or how many times you’d already come when you felt Tyler tense under you before an obscene moan left his mouth and he was twitching inside of you. The way your body seemed to be fluttering around him signaled that you’d cum too but maybe you’d just been in a constant state of orgasm since they started fucking you.
Knowing Paul hadn’ cum yet you tried to weakly rock your body back against him but he had paused as Tyler came, just holding your body to him. Feeling his lips kiss down your back, you felt him slip out of you as well before flipping you over onto your back.
“You’ve been so good for us.” He whispered and Tyler quickly mumbled his affirmance of that statement. “But I think you should show Tyler just how good you are and let me cum inside you.”
For a split second your eyes went wide and then you were nodding frantically.
“Yes daddy, please cum inside me.” You’d tried to convince Paul to go bareback but he’d refused since you had stopped taking the pill, declaring that it wasn’t yet time to try for a baby. As Paul settled himself above you he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
“I know baby. You’re so eager for daddy to knock you up. Want you to show Tyler just how good you take my seed, how much you want me to fill you up and make you mine. Because you are mine. Tonight was the only time I’m ever going to share you.” Tears were pooling in your eyes as Paul pressed inside you, your body molding to his like you were made to take his cock.
As Paul fucked himself inside you, Tyler’s fingers reached to play with your nipples once more.
“He’s right...you are such a good girl letting him fuck you until you’re nice and pregnant. He’s a lucky son of a bitch.” With Paul fucking so deep inside you, shifting your legs to wrap around him until he was buried to the hilt on each in stroke, and Tyler pinching and rubbing at your nipples, it wasn’t long until you were crying out as the most intense orgasm of your life rushed over you.
The walls of your pussy clenched down tight around Paul’s dick as he let go, milking him dry. With your body heaving, tears spilled from your eyes at the intensity of it all and you felt the bed shift as Paul leaned over to kiss you while still resting inside of you.
“Holy fuck Paul.” You eventually breathed, your hands reaching up to brush over his cheeks.
“Good huh?” He murmured.
“Fantastic. Though I’m not sure where that last part suddenly came from.” You whispered slightly concerned that he had only acted in the heat of the moment and would regret taking that risk. Seeing Tyler return with a wet washcloth, Paul finally slipped out of you, gently wiping you down.
“Like you didn’t know I planned to spend the rest of my life giving you whatever it is that you want.”
Paul had always done whatever it took to make you happy and tonight was no exception. Your first threesome had been fun and you definitely needed to thank Tyler but maybe Paul had been right. Now that it was out of your system you know that the only man you needed was the one you planned on spending the rest of your life with.
And you couldn’t wait to see what else there was to explore with him.
#paul bissonnette#paul bissonnette imagine#tyler seguin#tyler seguin imagine#dallas stars#dallas stars imagine#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#paul bissonnette nws#tyler seguin nws#former player#former player imagine#nws#lemon#020
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a conspiracy theory - chapter 3
co-written by @snowdog49 and @jeanhaavoc
summary: Detective Roy takes on a challenging task… To find Olivier Armstrong’s sword. However, he has a beautiful woman to distract him along the way. Will he, Jean, and Ed be able to find the sword in time, or will they succumb to the conspiracy?
warning: graphic depictions of violence
tags: conspiracy, pining, unresolved sexual tension, private detective au, royai, havolina, mystery, violence, modern au, coffee shops
rated: m | words: 3277
read on ao3
“You want me to do what?”
Roy grabbed his shoulder holster and put it on, slipping it over his shoulders. He pulled his pistol out of his holder, checking to make sure it was loaded before putting it back.
“Are you serious?”
Roy nodded as he put his jacket on.
Ed stared at him. “How do we know we’re going to find it?”
“We don’t.” Roy handed him a sport coat and a button-down shirt. “Here, look a bit more professional.”
“Jean wears polos.”
“Jean isn’t coming.”
Edward pulled off his shirt and awkwardly started buttoning up the white shirt. “This isn’t even going to matter.”
Rebecca came over to him, wrapping a tie around his neck. “Looks do matter. You need to look like you know what you’re doing, not that you don’t.” She started tying the knot. Roy watched as he tied his own.
“If you look like a professional, they will treat you like one,” Jean added. “Though I’d really like to know why this sword is so freaking important.”
Roy walked over to his desk and opened the drawer. “This is why.” He pulled out the hefty cheque and handed it to his blonde coworker.
Jean stumbled in his place. “Are you fucking serious?”
“What?” Ed leaned towards them only to be straightened by Rebecca who finished the tie.
“This is three times the payment of a regular assignment!”
Roy nodded. “Will you get that deposited for me?”
Jean whistled low. “All that money just for a sword,” he chuckled. He wafted the cheque in front of him like it was a fan.
“Yeah, and if it goes missing, I’ll know exactly where to look.”
“You wound me, Roy,” Jean pouted, clutching at his chest. “I’ll cash your check, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he cooed, then laughed heartily as Roy shot him a glare. Jean picked up his jacket tossing it over his shoulder and holding it with a few fingers. “I’ll make myself scarce and do some actual detective work today, and leave you to your little medieval sword mission.”
“Now tuck in your shirt,” Rebecca said with a smile to Edward. The young man looked more than overwhelmed as he tucked in his shirt. Roy had to wonder if he’d ever dressed like this before.
She turned around to grab at Roy and straighten his tie. “You better be careful with him, Roy.”
He didn’t respond. He had every intention of being careful.
“I’m serious,” she warned, pulling on the tie as a good warning.
Roy pulled back from her and loosened the tie so he could breathe, glaring at the woman of the office.
“Heymans is harmless,” Jean chuckled from his desk.
It didn’t mean that they didn’t need to be careful. He watched Edward put on the jacket and adjust it. It didn’t fit him perfectly, but it’d work for this instance.
“We’re going to walk right into an black market art dealer and ask him if he’s seen a sword?” Ed raised his eyebrow towards the three of them.
Roy nodded. “Something like that.”
Ed looked back at Rebecca.
“While you two are gone, I’ll get you contact information for a few interviews,” Rebecca turned to sit at her desk. “You said Senator Raven, correct?”
Roy nodded. “Yeah. See if you can organize a meeting with him as well.”
“You got it, Boss.”
“Have fun,” Jean rubbed the top of Edward's head affectionately while Roy opened the door. “Be smart about it.”
“Any advice?” Ed looked up at Jean before following after Roy. He looked almost scared, overwhelmed at the sudden assignment. Roy was sure he was more uncomfortable about it since they had hard feelings for each other after the fight yesterday. He was going to make it up to Ed though. He wasn’t going to let those hard feelings come between them.
Jean grinned. “Let Heymans do the talking. The less he knows about you, the better. The more you know about him, the better. Lastly, don’t ever give away that what you’re looking for is important. Heymans will want it more than you.”
Ed blinked two times before following Roy out the door. They turned down the sidewalk and walked over towards Roy’s car. It was normally parked at the office and Ed had rarely seen Roy drive it except on certain occasions. It wasn’t the newest of models, but it was clean and ran without problems.
“Get in,” Roy instructed, opening his side. As they got settled, Roy turned on the car and checked his mirrors. “Ed, I did want to apologize for blowing up yesterday.”
Ed’s mouth should have landed in his lap. Roy would have expected it to. He was not a man of apologies, especially not to Ed.
“I shouldn’t have let it get out of hand. I wanted to make sure you understand that you’re a part of our team.” Roy pulled out onto the street, checking the lanes before moving into a turning lane. His eyes remained on the street while his hands tightened on the steering wheel. It was indeed hard for him to say sorry. However, Rebecca said something to him and it struck home hard. Ed was impressionable. It was Roy’s responsibility to make him into a good detective, not someone who hated authority more because his mentors were assholes. He sighed. “I wasn’t very professional in the way I handled things.”
Ed blinked again. He could see the young man trying to decide if he needed to say something or not. Roy didn’t expect anything from him. That was fine. Roy didn’t think Ed ever had a proper male authority figure in his life. But neither did Roy.
“We just have to do things by the book to provide evidence to our clients. We have to have the utmost dignity and with integrity.” He glanced over to see Ed’s eyes on his lap where his fingers were fidgeting. “Listen, Ed, you may have breezed through school easily and been left to get on with things in any way you see fit, and I admire your ability to do that, however this is the real world. If you do what you suggested, and get caught, your ass is on the line. So is mine, for authorizing it, and we both go to jail. So does Jean for working the case with you. He’s an accomplice. So’s Rebecca. There are always consequences for your actions, okay?” Roy prompted him gently. “Remember that.”
Ed nodded slowly.
“You're my employee and I want to make sure you’re alright.”
“Just an employee, huh?” Ed asked, but there was no bite to his tone as he looked out the window.
“If we gave each other a chance, we could maybe be partners one day.” Roy grinned sideways and turned in an intersection.
Edward sighed heavily, obviously struggling with what to say. “I just feel like I’m being underutilized. I’m left with all the bitchwork that you guys don’t want to do.”
“Okay, first of all,” Roy stated calmly. “Language.”
Ed scowled at him.
“Do it at home, do it with your friends, I really don’t care, but in my office, and working for me, you will watch your language,” Roy warned. They’d already had this conversation, but Roy hoped that now, on more even and calmer terms, it would go through to Ed. “Respect is earned, Edward. And it goes both ways.”
“You swear all the time.” Ed glared at Roy.
“Do as I say, not as I do.” It was a stupid excuse, but Roy admitted he needed to watch his language.
“You don’t even seem to respect me,” he muttered. He crossed his arms and sunk into the seat.
“Because look at the attitude I get,” Roy laughed in disbelief. “Would you do the same for someone who spoke to you the way you speak to me?”
“I’m not a kid,” he spat.
Roy could already feel the conversation getting out of hand again. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Okay, just like Jean said. Try another tactic. “No, you’re not. You’re an apprentice. Better than that, you’re a paid apprentice. Not many can claim that title. And do you know why?”
“Why?” he mumbled back, still refusing to look at Roy.
“Because you’re good. Professionally, I respect you enough for that. You work with computers in a way I’ve never seen before. Probably the best technological addition to the team since we got that useless 3D printer,” he joked.
Ed let out a cough of a laugh, and his lips quirked upwards.
“You’ve got real talent, but talent will only take you so far. I’ve… slacked on that recently. I’ve been giving you smaller jobs because they’re safer and they’re simple for you to do. It wasn’t intended to insult your intelligence, it was a means of preparing you for starting to work on bigger cases, like this one.” Roy reminded him, pulling the car into a parking lot. “You have to start at the bottom like all of us did.” He parked the car and killed the engine. “I have to start from the bottom too. So, let’s see what we can find out together.”
They got out of the car and Roy ran his fingers through his hair.
“He’s in there?” Ed pointed towards an office building.
He nodded. “Not all black market dealers live in dark basements of the underworld,” he joked. As they started walking together, Roy nudged him gently. “Lesson one: You do the small jobs to establish connections. You get useful contacts for simple things, like car garages that you can call upon for a favour at some point. You have to build up respect with your peers in the field. That’s the only way you’ll really help people.”
“You’re really in it to help people?” Ed asked doubtfully, but there was still a hint of hope in his tone.
Roy nodded, stepping slowly up the stairs to the building.
“Jean said you were in it for the money.”
Roy laughed loudly and rolled his eyes. “Jean says a lot of things. This case we can say it’s more about the money. But,” he opened the door, “you can’t say that we’re not curious as to why this sword is worth so much, right?”
“I suppose so, yeah.”
“And I’m helping a client find an heirloom of their family. I could’ve turned it down, even if it’s worth so much.”
Ed stopped in the lobby of the big office building and looked around. There was a reason why he was in a suit. Everyone in the building was wearing one. The light tile marble floor under their feet and the bright lights above them screamed business of the most expensive kind. This was a place lawyers and bank officials set up their homes. Just by the look on Ed’s face, Roy would’ve guessed that Ed had also never been in a building like this one. He let Ed gawk as he walked over to the directory and searched for Heymans’ name.
“While we are there,” he broke Ed’s attention, “I want you to watch his body language. I also want you to look at his office. It tells you a lot about a man. Like Jean said, don’t let him know what the sword is worth. Instead, we want to inquire about it.”
“I thought you said we had to do things legally,” Edward interjected, but there was no scowl on his face. Just a raised eyebrow.
“We’re just going to talk to him. Is talking to someone illegal?”
“The black market isn’t legal.”
Roy pointed to the sign.
“Heymans Breda, art consultant?” Ed looked back at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Roy waved over his shoulder as they walked towards the elevator. “It’s not illegal to talk.” The doors on the elevators closed with a light and joyful ‘bing’. “Where do you think we should start first?” Roy prompted.
Ed shrugged. “You said we are just going to ask him.” He looked down, biting his lip. “Why would someone steal something that stood out as much as a sword? If it was sold off, someone would take notice of it. Especially if it had the family name carved into it.”
“Exactly.”
“So…”
Roy pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to ask him if he’s seen a sword like this one. Heymans is probably going to deny it right away considering that he knows us. But you’re going to ask again.”
“Me?”
Roy nodded. “In a calm voice too. Don’t demand it. Just ask him. Watch for a pause.”
Minutes later Roy and Ed arrived at a door with the letters spelling out Breda, Heymans on the frosted glass. Roy opened the door and nodded at the secretary. “We are here to see Mr. Breda.”
“Detective Mustang?”
Roy nodded.
“I’ll let him know you’re here.”
He could almost hear Ed’s gulp and see the sweat drip from the young man’s brow.
“Roy!” The two looked up to see a heavier fellow with bright red hair grin at the two of them. He had this wide grin on this face, as if he’d just won the lottery, and a warm booming voice. He sounded and looked like he could take the attention in any room. However, Roy knew he wasn’t dumb. The man held himself with confidence and even in a fist fight, Roy imagined that Heymans would be hard to overthrow. It was going to be the same in conversation. “Jean told me you’d be coming. How can I help you?”
They followed Heymans into his office where Roy took a seat. “We are actually looking for a particular sword.”
Heymans laughed and leaned back in his office chair. “I haven’t seen a sword lately.”
“No,” Roy shook his head and handed him the picture. “I mean, a sword.”
The two watched as Heymans shook his head and handed the picture back.
“I deal in art, Mustang. Not swords.”
“Swords can be considered an art piece,” Ed piped up, his tone casual as he continued to look around the room with fascinated interest.
The office was very minimalist in regards to furniture, however colourful and bright artworks covered the walls. There were so many dotted everywhere that it drew focus away from the boring black and white furniture.
Heymans’ eyes flicked to Ed’s for a second as he regarded him. Roy forced himself not to smile as he caught the corner of his eye twitch.
“They can,” Heymans replied carefully. “However, not in my line of work.”
“What’s that?” Ed asked, pointing towards a photograph of Heyman’s and another man shaking hands, holding a sword between them. Roy assumed it was at some kind of auction.
Heymans eyed Roy more carefully this time. “So, a sword, huh?”
Roy nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind giving us a moment of your time.”
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” Heymans chuckled as he raised his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t lying though, I haven’t seen a sword coming through lately. There’s been no chatter of one and no accounts of anything like that,” he nodded towards the photo.
“Nothing at all?” Edward asked.
“I’m not lying to you, Kid.”
Roy caught Ed huff out the corner of his eye, so took charge of the conversation. “That’s not why my partner was implying, Heymans. We’re just curious.”
“I’ve seen nothing.”
“Okay. If you do, could you give me a call?” Roy handed over a business card.
“Who’s it for?”
“The Armstrongs.”
Heymans whistled low. “Then it really is important.”
Roy shrugged. “I don’t know the significance of it. It’s just some really old sword. An easy job to tide us over for a while.”
“Work slow?” Heymans asked conversationally, but Roy knew he was fishing.
“Not at all. We’re just taking small jobs here and there while things are quiet.” He caught another photograph on display on the wall behind Heymans. It was him standing with Olivier, Alex, the oldest son, and the Armstrong family patriarch, Philip Gargantos Armstrong. Honestly, some people just made it too easy for Roy. “I notice you appear to be quite close with the Armstrongs.”
“I have been,” Heymans replied carefully. He was guarded again, but he shouldn’t show off so much about his clients. “In the past.”
“So you would know if something of theirs showed up on the market somewhere?”
“I would, yes. That family inscribes their name on everything,” he chuckled, relaxing his shoulders. “Makes it very hard to sell sometimes because items can be traced back to a very powerful family.”
“Let me know if anything comes up,” Roy stated, standing from his chair. Ed followed suit shortly after him.
“I will, Roy. And you take care, all right?” He wondered if this was considered a threat, but his open and earnest eyes led Roy to believe this sword really was more important than they all thought.
“It’s just a sword,” Roy chuckled. “It will turn up in a week or so. Or it’s been misplaced in the house somewhere by one of their servants,” he joked. “It won’t take long, but we’ve got to cover all the bases, I suppose,” Roy sighed.
“I hear you,” Heymans laughed. “Especially for the rich. They expect miracles from nothing.”
“Always. Thank you for your time, Mr. Breda.”
They said their goodbyes and it wasn’t until they were outside the building that Ed finally spoke.
“So he really has no idea?”
“No,” Roy shook his head. “Even if we are private detectives, he’s a businessman and moving items is important. It’s likely he’ll look for a client anywhere. Plus, if he’s as close with the Armstrongs as his photographs indicate, he’ll probably want to help. Whether that's for a future favour or out of personal curiosity, I don’t know, and I really don’t care.”
Roy slid into the driver’s seat of the car and started the engine.
“He really does like to show off, doesn’t he?”
“He’s prolific,” Roy shrugged. “And he’s good at what he does. Clients coming in and seeing that caliber of items displayed proudly will make them more likely to put their trust and requests in him. It’s all strategy.”
Edward nodded thoughtfully. His fist came to rest underneath his chin while his elbow rested by the car window.
“And you have a good eye,” Roy commented. “Well done for spotting that photo of him and the sword.”
“He made it easy,” Edward dismissed.
“That was my thoughts exactly,” Roy chuckled. “When we get back, could you head out to some pawn shops and do the same as what we did with Heymans?”
“Me?” He sounded surprised.
Roy nodded. “I want to run up a list of possible interviews with the people who were at the party now that we have slimmed down the chance of it being moved into the black market.”
“As in… me. By myself?”
Roy nodded again. “You’re slow on the uptake for a supposed genius,” he snickered.
“Hey,” Ed narrowed his eyes, affronted by his comment. “Maybe if I’d been given more work like this before I wouldn’t comment on it.” Where before he would have snapped at Roy, now there was just a tiny bite to his words. It was justified, but it was also progress. He wasn’t yelling at Roy, so it was a start.
“We’ve all got to start somewhere,” Roy reminded lightly.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ed muttered. “But still… thanks,” he muttered.
Roy grinned to himself. “Any time, Partner.”
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Toys and Flowers
Author: @the-omni-princess
Summary: Insecurities and some badly written jokes can hurt, especially when they come from family. (Intrusive thoughts TW)
Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5.2K (It got away from me whoops)
Prompt:
“I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me.” - Scandal
Warnings: Angst, Insecure reader, language, intrusive thoughts, unintentionally negative comments, Avengers kinda acting like dicks but they didn’t realize it, also a splash of anxiety, a happy ending I promise, Fluff
A/N:
A little bit of self-fulfillment whoops. Still new at this so please tell me what you think.
This sorta thing comes from my own experience with these thoughts, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t quite fit someone else’s. Anyway, if you’re having negative thoughts, like our dear reader, please go speak to someone. I made this way more angsty than I originally intended.
Prompt is bolded.
Written for @sunmoonandbucky
and their #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge :D
[Read on Ao3!]
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You were fed up. This had been going on for too long, going around and around in circles for too long. Jokes you could deal with. Insecurities brought to the forefront, teasing, crude one-liners, snide comments. When they came from strangers or from people you never necessarily liked you could deal with them. But when they came from the people you considered family? They hurt, and they hurt severely. Every comment, every glance, every joke sent a searing pain down your chest.
You knew it was most likely in good fun, after all, the Avengers were known to always toss quips at each other. They called Sam and Clint Birdie, teased Steve and Bucky about being old, and there was always some form of ribbing against Vision when he didn’t understand a meme despite being the literal embodiment of the internet. Yet despite all that, every joke that was aimed at you hurt you more than you care to admit.
Thwack. Thump. Every hit of your fists against the punching bag did little to help the anger in your chest, the anxiety, the hurt. Fighting back tears, you tried to block out the voices in your head reminding you of every joke you heard the others say as you kept hitting the bag. You thought you were overreacting, but then another jest meant to just be a poke in the ribs felt like a knife made of fire being pushed into your heart.
Sweat rolled down your back, it prickled at your neck, and you weren’t sure if the wetness on your cheeks was tears or sweat anymore. Sniffling, you paused, wiping your hot face with a towel, and downed half of your remaining water bottle. You sighed, fanning yourself with the towel, not that it helped the sweat clinging to your grey t-shirt or your gym shorts very well.
More comments swirled in your head, anxiety that you weren’t good enough to be an avenger started to creep back into your head, so you tossed the bottle and towel back to the ground and resumed punching. The comments were bad, but they were manageable. At least you thought so. Until a certain super-soldier, who you most definitely had a crush on, started to join in. You were happy he was starting to open up, but when his teasing started to join Sam’s the pain in your chest grew, along with the wall you built around yourself.
Burying yourself in paperwork, reports, and training, you did everything you could to not be in the Compound’s living room when you knew everyone else was there. You even tended to your outhouse garden more often than usual. Those thoughts are what brought you here, to the gym, to punch the shit out of a punching bag for the third time that day, instead of upstairs eating dinner with the rest of the team. It was too late to be out in the garden, your fairy lights you recently bought not fully installed yet, you were weeks ahead of paperwork, and there hadn’t been a new mission to report recently so your last hope was the gym.
Natasha was the first to notice your absences after you repeatedly started to miss dinners with the team and refused to say anything to her about it. “Has anyone seen Y/N today?” She suddenly questioned in the middle of dinner that Friday night, another dinner you were spending in the gym. Eyes all looked towards the redhead, as they started to realize you weren’t there again.
Tony was the first to speak up, sipping away at his drink “Passed by her on the way here, said she was heading to the gym.”
Steve was the next person to speak, hands fiddling with his fork, “But I saw her this morning at the gym, it was really early, and she seemed to tire herself out, why would she go back there so soon?”
Wanda then spoke up, “Her mind has been clouded recently, she blocks me out mentally, but she is blocking us all out as well.”
Sam gave her a confused look, unaware of what was the problem, “Why would she do that?”
“Because you idiots keep making fun of her,” Natasha snapped. She had seen the way you closed yourself off from a conversation the second a joke landed a low blow in your self-esteem. An off comment that maybe the new gal needed more training after she missed a shot during a mission. A quip about something new you were trying. Natasha noticed that not every joke had sent you spiraling, that most you were used to, and some truly were funny enough that you didn’t care, but she also noticed how close you had been to tears as you quickly excused yourself to your room after Bucky teased you the day prior.
Wanda looked up from her plate towards Natasha, the gears in her head practically visible as she connected the dots. “The boys’ comments and jokes about her fuel her anxiety!” She suddenly declared, and the room quickly silenced.
Sam’s eyebrows lifted, almost comically, “But she knows we are just having fun, right? We don’t mean any of it seriously, after all we make fun of the Olsen Twins for their age all the time, and Tinman for being slow.”
“Doesn’t mean the comments don’t hurt,” Bucky put his head in his hands, his own mind quickly filling in the blanks, finally noticing that the emotions in your face as you shuffled out of meetings and movie nights after a joke was betrayal and pain. He was quite acquainted with what pain looked like, and still he managed to miss it in you, though in hindsight he saw it now. The light leaving your eyes as Tony aimed a joke at you, your responding smile never reaching your eyes, your laugh sounding almost fake and forced before you practically sprinted towards your room muttering some excuse about being behind on mission reports.
“From what I’ve been noticing, not all the teasing seemed to affect her, but perhaps you were being a bit harsh on her when you said she needed more training after that mission last week Sam, or the comment about shirt yesterday Bucky,” Clint finally spoke up, having quietly observing everything from his spot on the windowsill couch.
“I was trying to compliment that shirt!” Bucky tried to defend, only to have Natasha snicker.
“’That’s an interesting choice’ is not a compliment,” Natasha glared at him, making him groan as he realized he had been acting like an ass towards you this entire time. “You know this all explains a lot, especially how she looked like she was seconds away from crying when Buckaroo here made some joke at her.” The man in question looked up, equal parts confused and upset. He had made you cry? Why would some joke, one that Sam had already said that didn’t elicit a response, get such a negative one when it came from him? Natasha snickered again, this time because Bucky looked like a kicked puppy. “You haven’t noticed oldie? Poor girl has had a crush on you practically since the moment she met you two years ago.” His heart stopped, then promptly dropped down into his stomach. He was making the girl he liked miserable and he didn’t even know it.
“You didn’t notice Bucky?” Wanda expressed almost remorse as she saw clouds of regret swirling in his head. “The extra cookies she hides away specifically for you, the coffee always ready for you in the morning, the small blushes when you look at her, the smile that lights up her face the second you actually compliment her?” The redhead was listing off the reasons he started to fall for you. The sweet girl, way too good for the world, for him, and the fiercest warrior out on a mission. You had missed that shot because Bucky’s cover would have been blown if your aim had been true. You had taken metaphorical bullets for him multiple times, always the first to defend him whenever someone came after him, especially whenever Ross or some Hydra goon started to monologue him on his past.
Shoving himself from the table, Bucky quickly stood, “I have to go fix this,” he muttered, mostly to himself, already rushing to the gym to find you.
“She’s stubborn, it’s not going to be that easy Bucky!” Steve tried calling out to his best friend, well aware of how Bucky felt about you. His comment fell on deaf ears and Bucky sprinted to the gym where you were still trying to lose yourself to your moves.
Jaws clenched, you kept swinging at the bag in front of you. You were tiring out, your exhausted mind probably catching up with your fatigued body. The gym door behind you swung open, making you jump, wide eyes locking onto a frantic looking Bucky. He looked disheveled, and you noticed his erratic breaths as if he ran here.
Suddenly hyper-aware of your own dishevelment, your body sweaty and tired from working out, you tried to make yourself smaller; quickly turning back to the bag, you swung at it again with new found energy. “What’s up, Buck?”
You could practically feel his eyes burning holes into the back of your head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, and, dare you to say it, pained. Your hands fell from the punching stance you had them up in, turning to face him with a puzzled look.
“Whatcha mean Bucky? What didn’t I tell you?”
“The intrusive thoughts Y/N… how much my comment about your shirt actually hurt you, really how many of the comments or jokes I made towards you hurt you.” Your body froze, completely caught off guard by him cornering you.
Feeling a bit petty and standoffish, you mustered your best death glare, though it no doubt probably did nothing towards the ex-assassin, “Why would I tell you?” Swiftly turning to grab your discarded water bottle and towel you muttered under your breath, “Why would I tell any of you?”
“Because we’re your family Y/N/N” he responded softly. Damn super soldier hearing. Chancing a glance towards him, you could see his hunched shoulders, his hands fidgeting with the end of his shirt.
His anxious body behavior only fueled you on, suddenly wanting to get out of this conversation as fast as possible yet wanting to confirm every negative thought in your head, you practically snarled at him. “Family don’t hurt each other… they shouldn’t hurt each other.” You whispered the last part, unexpectedly frozen where you stood.
You couldn’t look up at his face, fully aware he probably had some cute puppy dog look aimed your way. You couldn’t stand those looks, you knew your resolve would melt instantly if you looked towards them. His silence somehow hurt more than you thought it would. Your body finally getting with the idea of running from this, you turned away again, heading towards the door.
“Doll…” Bucky started, clearly, about to go on some tangent, you stopped him.
“No doll Bucky. I’m used to the comments… strangers, co-workers even, definitely kids when I was younger… I just thought they would stop eventually, along with these thoughts in my head, guess that was naive of me to think that.”
“Y/N please don’t do this, please, just let me explain. Fuck I didn’t mean those comments like that, Y/N, I tried to say it as a compliment. God, I really like you, and I’m terrible at speaking whenever you come around, and I didn’t mean it like the way it came out doll,” You didn’t hear him move, you just abruptly felt his hand around your wrist.
Pulling it back towards your body as if his touch burned you, you spun on your heels to face him. Rash and hotheaded as always, your words came out like venom aimed straight towards the man in front of you, “I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me.” You were too quick with your harsh words to realize the full weight of his words, only reacting blindly to the hatred your mind had been building towards yourself and lashing it out towards Bucky. He looked as if he had been slapped in the face by your words. The truth was, you did like the pet names, especially from him, especially when they were on the back end of his praise for you when training or after a particularly good mission. However, your need for a punching bag or the need for these thoughts to not be focused on you for once, made you throw them at the one person in this entire compound you wanted to hurt the least.
You scrambled towards the door, trying to bite back your tears and keep your resolve. You didn’t look back as you rushed towards your room, knowing that if you took one look at the heartbroken man you left standing at the gym, you would sob at his feet. You shut the door behind you promptly sliding to the floor in your room, your back against the door. “FRIDAY, don’t let anyone in. For anything.” You called out, knowing the AI would catch it.
“Are you sure Ms. Y/L/N? My sensors are indicating your elevated heart rate and erratic breathing, it is recommended for me to contact Mr. Stark or the Med Bay.” The AI dutifully replied, making you cry out. You put your head in your hands, feeling the wetness of your cheeks, making you realize you were already crying. When did that happen?
“No! Please FRIDAY, please don’t let an-anyone in… Please. I don’t want them to see me like this.” Your speech slurred faintly, sniffling as you tried to get a hold of yourself. You just felt weak, too drained to shower or eat or even pull yourself from the floor you currently were residing. As your thoughts finally slowed you exhaled shakily, the anxiety and intrusive thoughts gone, leaving a blank mind except for a startling realization to what Bucky said before you snapped. “God, I really like you.”
You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, but considering the light hitting your eyes from the window, you figured it must have been a while ago. You shuffled to get comfortable in the sheets around you, desperate for a few more minutes of the nothingness of sleep. Wait… when did you go to bed? Hadn’t you fallen asleep on the floor? You sat up quickly, ignoring the burn in your eyes at the sudden light change as you surveyed the room. “FRIDAY? How did I get to bed last night?” You asked carefully, truthfully scared of the answer.
“Mr. Stark used his override code to enter your room shortly after you fell asleep. Sergeant Barnes put you in bed before returning to his own quarters.”
Groaning as you got out of bed, you realized you were still in your work-out clothes from the previous night, at least Bucky didn’t try to change you last night. Well, why would he? Your mind started to think as you headed for the bathroom to shower, suddenly grateful you woke up in your bed instead of on the floor. You suddenly froze, halfway to the bathroom door as you remembered one small detail of last night: “God, I really like you.”
Pushing away from the thoughts in your head, you quickly showered and got dressed. Going through routines helped the thoughts in your head from swirling around so much. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cereal bowl as you ignored how quiet it suddenly got when you walked in. Pouring all the necessary (and frankly colorful) ingredients and sitting down, you paused, spoon halfway to your mouth as you noticed most of the Avengers staring at you. “What?” You said it defensively, the simple word carrying a small amount of venom behind it.
Sam spoke up first, eyes locking with yours, “Y/N I’m sorry- no, no interrupting, eat your breakfast and let me say it, no running away Y/N/N” he spoke carefully, gentle yet clearly concerned. You gave him a wary look before starting to eat your cereal. Sam took that as an invitation to speak again. “I’m sorry, no, well yes, but we are all sorry. We didn’t realize the jokes we said were hurting you, and we hope you can forgive us and open up to us again. Y/N/N we miss seeing you around here. Your family but you’re avoiding us, we didn’t even realize what we said was causing you pain and behalf of all of us, even though most of it was my jokes, we are all sorry for making you feel like you weren’t a valuable part of this family.” You winced, hearing the guilt in his voice, conscious everyone was probably looking towards you as you stared at your cereal. “Because you are a valuable member of this family Y/N, and we miss seeing you happy.” That was the nail in the coffin, the tears that were bubbling in your eyes suddenly, but thankfully quietly, spilling down your face.
Sniffling, you looked up at Sam and the rest of the team, your view starting to get a bit blurry as tears clouded your vision. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys,” your eyes making a point of looking at Bucky. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, hair mussed, his hand most likely running through it several times throughout the night. You quickly looked away before your resolve to finish your thoughts crumbled. “I thought I could just get past the thoughts, the words, the jokes, I was probably just hoping it would go away… thanks for being there, I know I can be kind of a mess, I’m not always perfect, but I’ll try to actually talk through these thoughts, and… feelings.” A few heads nodded, the tension dissolving in the room.
“Now, with the messy stuff outta the way, when you finish your breakfast, someone is requesting your presence at your garden kid,” You looked up at Tony, confused as you tried wiping your tears, happy you were talking through things for once instead of being rash. He shook his head, “No details coming out of me kid, just relaying the message.” He was quick to leave the room.
Your face must have looked perplexed still because Steve spoke up as he headed out as well, “Just trust us Y/N/N, you have a surprise waiting for you down there,” Steve knew how much you adored the greenhouse garden you had practically begged Tony to help you install when you became an Avenger. It had been the only thing you have ever asked of him, your small piece of comfort. Tending new flowers and growing herbs became a habit when you were younger, a positive way to keep yourself distracted from the thoughts in your head and the worries of the outside world.
The kitchen was now relatively empty, leaving a certain redheaded Russian alone with you. Natasha walked over, kissing your head motherly, “I’m always here to talk Malen'kiy,” she spoke softly, hugging you gently from the side. You rested your head against her, a faint smile on your face, your first real smile in a while.
“I know, thanks, Nat. I promise I’ll actually talk to you next time,” your voice was just as soft as you looked up adoringly at your practically adoptive sister. Nat had always been the one to know you the best. She knew you had these thoughts, always the clever one, but she didn’t realize they had become this bad.
“Now, hurry up and go to that garden you love before I have to kick your butt and drag you there myself,” You chuckled, smiling up at her as she playfully nudged your arm towards the door. Something was definitely going on. Three Avengers in cahoots to send you to your garden? Suspicious. You walked a little faster than usual down to your garden, wondering what was such a big deal that everyone really wanted you to go there.
The door’s open. That weird, I always close it. You thought as you approached the greenhouse. Walking inside you were flabbergasted, it looked completely different, in a totally good way. The weeds you had missed the other day were already uprooted, the floor swept, the fairy lights you had been dying to put up were already up and on. But what surprised you most were the new flowers that had lined the formerly empty new section you weren’t quite sure what to put there.
It was right beside the bench you used to read when you wanted to be alone after rough missions and no matter what plant you could think of, nothing ever felt right being put there. It would be the scent that would surround while you read, the light perfect there for reading, so you wanted something nice but none of your choices stuck. You already had those type of flowers, or it just felt wrong next to the bench, but the arrangement of flowers currently there now? They were perfect. Purple violets, purple lilacs, yellow daisies, red carnations, and hydrangeas.
Caught up in the new additions to your garden, you didn’t notice Bucky sitting on the bench beside the flowers at first. You knew the meaning of these new additions, but you weren’t quite sure what to say. “Did you do all of this?” you kept your voice low, eyes locking onto the sheepish blue eyes in front of you. Dark circles surrounded those beautiful eyes you tried so hard not to think about. He nodded slowly, a hopeful look in his eyes as he motioned for you to join him on the bench. “Last night… I couldn’t sleep… so I decided to do what you said I should do.”
“Which was?” you prompted, still a bit wary that this was some big joke against you.
“Earn you…” his eyes locked onto yours before he continued. “Y/N, I’m sorry for all the things I said, I know Sam did a big ‘forgive all’ sorta’ apology but I wanted to say I’m sorry personally. Y/N… I’m sorry, dreadfully, absolutely, completely, and utterly sorry.” He was biting his lower lip, anxiously fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he waited for your response with bated breath.
You gulped faintly at the implications of what he was saying and one key phrase he had said last night was replaying in your head. “God, I really like you” Your eyes fell from his gaze, looking towards the flowers, did he even know what this all meant?
“Bucky, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt, and I accept your apology about, well everything I guess. And thanks for fixing up the place,” you found the courage to say your thoughts, still locked onto the flowers. “Did you really not get any sleep just to do all of this for me?”
“Yes.” He said it quickly, with conviction, and when your attention snapped back to him, you noticed how nervous he seemed. Nodding faintly, you sat on the bench beside him, just out of his reach, he would have to scoot over to be near you.
You leaned against the arm of the bench, bent towards the new flowers. “They’re perfect by the way. I could never find a good combination of scents and colors for this spot, but you managed to do it beautifully.” You heard Bucky shuffle behind you, most likely still fidgeting, his metal fingers bumping against the metal of the rings on his right hand.
“Steve may have mentioned how he overheard you upset you were that you couldn’t figure out what to put there,” apprehensively he added, “Do you really like them?”
At that, you turned back towards him, grinning brightly at him. “They absolutely perfect Bucky.” You spoke with the same conviction he spoke earlier. Still gathering the nerve, you looked back towards the flowers, already enveloped by their scent, calming you as you spoke. “Do you know what each flower means?” Your voice was soft again, hopeful. That it wasn’t some accident he chose these specific flowers.
“Yes.” He answered simply. You turned towards him, his blue eyes, nervousness, and hopefulness evident in them.
“Then tell me,” you smiled warmly, feeling your cheeks warm up as he smiled back at you.
“Why do I have a feeling you already know?”
“Because I do… it’s just… some flowers can have multiple meanings, I want to know what you meant by each one.” You knew you were most definitely blushing at the moment, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as he moved closer, thigh now pressed against your own. He started to point out each flower and he explained.
“Purple violets mean that the giver’s thoughts were, and I’m quoting the website here darling, ‘were occupied with love’ to the person they are giving it too,” you giggled, smiling up at him as he continued with a bit more confidence. “Purple lilacs symbolize the first emotions of love, yellow daisies mean anything from youthful beauty to loyal love to new beginnings, I was honestly aiming for all three, as they remind me of you.” You noticed how Bucky was now blushing, eyes turned to focus on the flowers, nervousness flooding him again. “Red carnations mean love, pride, and admiration, and finally the hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions, but I like their second meaning more.” He paused, biting his lip again before continuing,
“That they can be used to express gratitude for being understood… Y/N, you’re amazing. You’re always kind, you’re never quick to judge but you're quick to protect, you’re fierce, whether it’s beating up bad guys or defending one of us. What I’m saying,” he finally looked back up at you, “I like you a lot Y/N. You showed me kindness and welcomed me here at the compound before I could even remember what either of those words meant anymore. You’re hot-headed, rash, too stubborn for your own good, quick to jump into a fight, you and Steve have that in common. But you’re also quick-witted, ambitious, and God I’m rambling, again aren’t I? I just… I wanted to show you some of the beauty you show me every time you walk through the door without even trying.” You couldn’t stop smiling as Bucky spoke, somewhere along the line you two had started holding hands and you most definitely weren’t letting go anytime soon. “I’ve fallen in love with you without you even trying doll.” He froze, realizing the pet name rolled so easily off his tongue, the same one that had upset you the night before.
You released one of his hands, gently placing it to cusp his jaw, “Bucky, I think I have some of my own confessions to make” your voice was soft, and it surprised you that you even could speak. Here was the man of your literal dreams confessing his love for you in the garden you had built from the ground up. “Before you panic, I actually like the pet names, I just… last night I was really wound up, and I lashed out at you, I’m sorry Buck...” He visibly softened at your words, elated he could go back to calling you that, but he still stared at your intertwined hand. “I really like you to…” his eyes shot up from to meet yours.
“Really?” If anyone knew that the formidable Winter Soldier had practically whimpered out that word, you knew Sam would never let Bucky live it down. You just smiled, standing and gently tugged him into the garden. You had a second bench, hidden amongst the thick foliage of the surrounding trees and vines. The bench was at the edge of a hidden circle opening, the circle was lined with rock and shells, the center filled with soft blankets and fluffy pillows. This was your favorite place to nap, the quiet secluded heart of the garden just hidden in the darkness, and away from the exit. Bucky hadn’t been the first to enter the garden, but he was the first you were willingly showing this part of it. It was your, or well our now you guessed, little secret. Fairy lights, these installed by you as the first batch you received, surrounded the circle.
You sat towards the edge of the circle, just a bit off from the bench, motioned him to join you on the fluffy pillows you sat on. He hesitantly sat beside you, close but cautious, unsure of what you were doing but trusting you completely. “Do you know why this small area is my favorite spot but is the one area of the entire garden I don’t let anyone into?” You asked softly, gently holding his soft yet calloused hands in your lap. He shook his head, intrigued but staying silent. You pointed towards the bush in front of you, small blue forget-me-nots dotting the bush. “They remind me of you.” You confided, looking towards him. His eyes gazed back towards you, full of admiration, awe, and, dare you to say, love. “There’s the obvious memory joke in there, but that’s not why they remind me of you. They symbolize a love brimming with memories, and every time I look at them I remember the hundreds of times your eyes look at me with such awe, like you can’t believe I’m real. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Their color reminds me of your eyes, those ocean eyes I could get lost in if I’m not paying attention, the eyes I’m searching for during those boring briefs before meetings. They also symbolize how I don’t want you to forget about me one day.” You saw the emotions flash in those very eyes you could fall into as you spoke.
Bucky gently moved closer, his hands now cradling your jaw as he spoke. “I could never forget about you doll.” His words pushed you forward almost subconsciously, finally daring to get closer to the man you could see yourself falling in love with. Every second went by painfully slow as the two of you grew closer, until Bucky’s lips met with yours. You hummed happily, his thumbs rubbing soft circles against your cheeks as you finally kissed. Your hands found themselves at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at his hair as he deepened the kiss. You pulled away finally, suddenly very aware about the burning need in your lungs to breathe. Bucky, ever the super soldier, was the first to recover, grinning as he tried to catch his breath. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since forever.”
You laughed at that, biting your bottom lip, noticing how kiss swollen Bucky’s lips were. “Stop being cheesy and kiss me again Bucky, matte’ of fact, never stop kissing me,” You said softly, pulling him back for more. He smiled against your lips as you both finally felt content, surrounded by flowers and fairy lights.
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#my writing#1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge#angst#fluff#tw: intrusive thoughts
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The Night of a Hundred Poems
I survived the #HypMicRarepairWeek2020! I would like to thank all the people who accompanied me on this strange journey. It was quite an experience writing about rarepairs, but I survived it!
Genre: Romance, Drama.
Fandom: Hypnosis Microphone.
Word count: 4314
Prompt: Day 7 - Free day/AU
Summary: Izanami is the most important tayu in Yoshiwara. Gentaro is the Imperial Court's favorite playwright. Without knowing why, every time Gentaro visits Izanami, he writes a poem. And tonight, to make a wish, he will write his hundredth poem... on Izanami's skin.
[Courtesan AU - Edo Period]
Please send your love in form on Kudos and Comments on AO3 (・ω・) /
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The symmetry drawn in his mind was slowly translating into delicate flowers arranged even more delicately in a black lacquered vessel. Anyone observing them would say that this was going to be a great work, even more so coming from its author.
Hifumi's hands never worked quickly on an ikebana, for he liked to take his time to see how best to arrange all types of flowers on the display. When he arranged them, he breathed slowly and rhythmically, as if in a trance, feeling their scent fill the air. When his hands touched the dew on the flowers, he felt at ease, for he too considered himself a flower. He had born with the destiny of a rose, he knew that he would slowly shed his leaves in Yoshiwara, the capital of pleasure. Just as the beauty of the rose would one day end, so would his, for such was the life of the tayu: to live intensely and be stripped by others. And that's how Izanami, the most important tayu in Yoshiwara, would end up.
The thoughts and silence of the night were torn apart by the sound of the inkstick against the stone, a rhythm that he had learned long ago. Looking over his shoulder, he could see how Gentaro was focused on making enough ink, mixing everything in the right amounts. Brushes of all sizes were arranged in front of him. A small smile appeared on his face as he found himself accompanied by him. Even in the silence, he felt attached to Gentaro.
Their meeting had not been by chance, or at least that was what he wanted to believe. Master Yumeno Gentaro was the trendy playwright. His kabuki plays were the delight of all Edo. Anyone who knew about culture would know his name. The bad tongues said he came from a noble family fallen from grace. Others said he was an illegitimate son of the Fujiwara clan. But the playwright, who had somehow been favored by the Imperial Court, made everyone forget the details of his private life. Unlike him, Gentaro could go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted. And what Gentaro wanted was to spend his time with him, saying soft words in Hifumi’s ear, who was his muse. When Izanami played his long ballads in shamisen for him, he noticed how his eyes glowed with pleasure as he looked at him. Art brought them together, but even more so, love was what kept them together. Hifumi wanted to believe that the red thread of destiny was entwined between his fingers, letting him know that they were meant to be.
As he walked through Yoshiwara with his entourage, the slow, sensuous figure-8s he formed with his feet as he walked made everyone sigh. Sometimes his feet hurt from the weight of the countless layers of silk. Oh, how he wished to get out of his high wooden sandals and run down the street without looking back! No one would care if Hifumi escaped because he did not exist. There was only the beautiful tayu, Izanami.
But not Gentaro. Only when they met in public did he call him Izanami, since image was everything. In the solitude offered by four walls, Gentaro sometimes made him believe that his heart had been transformed into a butterfly, for when he heard him say Hifumi he could feel it fluttering. His real name had become a sacred prayer for both.
His hand rested gracefully on an azalea waiting to be placed in the vessel, but his mind was somewhere else. He still remembered the author's first visit, when he asked his name. In that moment, Hifumi's redlined eyes narrowed in a classic kitsune expression as he covered his mouth with his sleeve. From his lips came only a “people call me Izanami”. However, that was not the answer the playwright wanted.
“How exquisite! Just like the goddess, with a poetic and delicate countenance like her. However, what I asked, my dear, is what your name is, not what the masses call you.”
For a few seconds, he didn't know what to say. No one had dared to treat the rest of his clients as "the common people", especially since Hifumi chose them all conscientiously. No one had ever wondered what was underneath the silk that covered him. But he would not be easily caught. The mystery could only be maintained by himself, playing his cards as he had been taught, without revealing anything, always making the other one want more.
“If my lord wants to know my name, he will have to visit me again. I shall be grateful for your company and patronage.”
The memory was interrupted by his name, when Gentaro called him. As he emerged from his reverie, he turned to see what he wanted, lowering his head and awaiting his command.
"Hifumi, didn't you hear me when I called you?" Gentaro's head tilted to the left, wondering how he hadn't heard if he had been at it for a while.
“My most sincere apologies, Gentaro-sama. Perhaps I was just distracted and that’s why I did not answer your call.”
Gentaro's chuckle could not be stopped by his hand. It was not often that Hifumi was so distracted, and in some ways, he thought it was lovely.
“It’s all right. Don't worry. It is just that I need help with a poem I’m finishing. Would you please look in your tansu chest for all those poems I have given you? I know you kept them, but I need to check something first.”
Swiftly, Hifumi rose to attend to his request, approaching the drawers and taking out several manuscripts he had made. A full drawer was waiting for him and he started to take them out one by one to the desk, where Gentaro kept looking at a blank paper, not paying attention to how the rolls were accumulating around him.
Once Hifumi had carried the last one, Gentaro took his wrist and brought Hifumi's hand to his mouth, to kiss the tips of his fingers gently. Hifumi trembled with pleasure, thinking of the intimacy of his touch. His fingertips, his fingernails, his long fingers, everything belonged to him with every kiss he deposited.
“You haven't looked at any of the poems I gave you, have you? They must still remain unread.”
Hifumi shook his head. He still remembered how Gentaro, one spring night, had started to write the poems when he came to see him. The summer was already over, and the scrolls were piling up on the chest of drawers. He had been tempted many times to open them and read them one by one, but he knew it would break his confidence.
His refusal was rewarded with a shower of kisses on his wrists and hands, a devotion that Hifumi was not accustomed to, because he was the one who used to deliver it. He closed his eyes enjoying the touch, feeling the warmth of Gentaro's lips on his own skin.
Once Gentaro gave him one last kiss, he smiled at him and ended the moment. Hifumi, for his part, kissed his cheek in gratitude and returned to his own place to continue working on his ikebana.
The azalea settled comfortably in the place Hifumi had arranged for it and now it was the turn of a few small bouquets of forget-me-not.
"Don't forget me," thought the tayu as images popped into his head. The times he had danced with his fan for Gentaro. The way his body would adjust to Gentaro’s body every time they lay on his bed. The way Gentaro enjoyed seeing him practicing his calligraphy. The way Gentaro’s eyes shone like the spring dew. The languid way his eyes opened at dawn. So many things, so important to Hifumi... And he just wished he wasn't forgotten by him.
In the pleasure district, rumors were spreading fast. And his heavy heart cried every time he thought that days ago, he heard that Gentaro was preparing to marry. He had been told that he had already asked for even a shimmering white kimono, with the most beautiful fabrics that could be found. He had even requested permission from the Imperial Court for the ceremony. Just when Hifumi thought he would have to share the playwright, his lower lip, covered with lipstick, looked even redder after he had bitten into it. At this point, jealousy was his worst enemy.
Certainly, Gentaro was already of marriageable age. He had never asked him, but he knew it was obvious that he was getting marriage offers. Being one of the Emperor's favorites, everyone must have considered him a good match. The only thing missing was a partner who could reciprocate, a sort of political move. Whoever he took for a lifetime partner would probably be very happy. And what about him? The only way out of Yoshiwara was to buy his freedom or die.
It was at those moments when his mind began to travel far away, suffering at the thought that his destiny would be to be Izanami forever. Izanami, the castle destroyer. Izanami, the one who could make the clans fight with one look if he wanted to. Izanami, the one who only by lifting his kimono slightly and showing an ankle could make men and women burst into lust.
And what did lust matter when, at the end of the day, he was faced with loneliness?
A kiss on the nape brought him back to reality. There was no need to turn around as he knew who it was. The warmth of Gentaro’s lips on him drove away all those negative feelings that clouded his mind and heart.
Gentaro's hands traveled deftly to his abdomen, touching the bulging obi tied to the front. With a whisper, he asked, “Can I take this off?”
Hifumi's yes was barely audible. Behind his closed eyes, there was only the ecstasy of knowing he was so loved. Even if there was another person to take his place in society, the way Gentaro's hands rested on him made him think that it was impossible for the playwright to love anyone but him. Only in a moment like this, they could be who they really were.
Meanwhile, his heavy obi was falling apart in the expert hands of Gentaro, who was placing feather-like kisses on his neck and shoulders. The silk of his heavy garment was lifted layer by layer, until it left him naked on his torso.
Hifumi never fully cared for his nakedness. It would be hypocritical to think so if the life he had was based on that: on provoking the desire of others and seducing them until they could no longer pay. But today everything was different. Gentaro's look on his skin made him feel shy, for his emerald eyes could penetrate his flesh and see what was inside his soul. He felt the blush creep up his cheeks and he couldn’t help himself. Ah! How strange it felt to be the seduced person for once.
Would Gentaro be able to look at another person the way he looked at him? He implored to all the gods he would not. He didn't want to share those emeralds with anyone else.
“The best poem of all is about to end, Hifumi. I would write it for you. Could you please lie down on the futon?”
He slid gently into the white sheets and stretched his delicate body over them. His passivity today surprised him, but it must have been the sadness that had taken hold of him. Bending his arms, he formed a rectangle where he placed his head. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Gentaro’s silhouette picking out one of his brushes and touch its bristles to feel its softness. He smiled half-heartedly, trying to cheer himself up when he knew this poem would be his.
“Hmm, and I thought that lyrics were your thing, Gentaro-sama. Do you wish to paint an ukiyo-e image?” Hifumi laughed openly, partially hiding his face in his arms. His eyes were dreamy, but his voice took on a seductive tone as the night progressed. “If you keep looking at me like that, your work will be transformed into a shunga image, darling.”
Gentaro laughed beside him as he approached, ink and brush in hand.
“Ah, how obscene you can be sometimes, Hifumi. I couldn't share your naked body with anyone else, even if it was only an image.”
Once at his side, Gentaro arranged Hifumi's clothing on his lower back until it bulged to form a pillow for himself and sat astride him. “If I knew how to portray, I assure you I would make only bijin-ga images of you, dressed in your beautiful kimonos and surrounded by flowers and birds.”
A kiss on his hair made Hifumi feel complete. He closed his eyes, giving his body and soul to the art of Gentaro. He felt tickled and shuddered the moment the icy ink touched his back. The playwright chuckled again but said nothing. Hifumi's back arched at his touch, and he sensed Gentaro looking at him with a sultry smile adorning his face. The brush moved slowly, as if the artist wanted to breathe life into the characters on his beloved's back.
With each character finished, a kiss landed on the nape and shoulders. If he could have done it, Gentaro would have slipped much lower, but he couldn’t. Not now, when the message was so important. The rewards could wait, for the night was still young.
“My dearest, have you by any chance heard of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai?”
"Well, of course," replied Hifumi. “Personally, I haven't played it, but I know it's very popular. It's that game where people get together and tell stories of suspense or strange events in a room, then they go to another room where they blow out a candle and look in the mirror, right?”
Gentaro listened carefully to Hifumi's voice as he continued to draw strokes on his back.
"Yes, that's correct. You're supposed to open a door to the Afterlife after telling the hundredth story and blowing out the last candle. Maybe someone or something terrible is waiting for you in the dark, but what happens next?"
Gentaro left the brush away from Hifumi's body to go to his ear and whisper “what happens next is a mystery.” Gently, he breathed out behind Hifumi's ear, who shuddered.
"Hey, Gentaro-sama! That's enough! You're scaring me."
Gentaro's laughter was loud given the position he was in and Hifumi hid his face in his arms. From above, Gentaro couldn’t see his expression, but he knew that the courtesan had been embarrassed because his ears were red. As a way of apologizing, he kissed his hair again, which received only a grunt in response.
Silence fell between the two of them and Gentaro picked up his brush again, not yet bringing it close to Hifumi's body. Before Hifumi could turn his head to look over his shoulder, the playwright interrupted him.
"What would you say...?" Gentaro stopped before he could talk any further and swallowed. He took a deep breath before continuing. "What would you say if I told you I had been playing my own version of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai? There is something I wish. You don’t know how much I wish it... and I have been working hard to make it happen."
Hifumi didn't know what to say. Somehow, his intuition told him it had to do with the rumors in town. He opted for the elegant silence, not judging or approving of what Gentaro had said. In his mind, he wondered what kind of desire it was and why the playwright decided to do it.
The brush was part of his skin again for the second time tonight but Hifumi's mind was not present. He would have done anything to help Gentaro fulfill his wish. It would have been wonderful if he could have trusted him and told him what it was. But he dared not ask, for he feared the answer. He didn't want tonight to end, because he didn't know what would happen to him tomorrow. The promises in Yoshiwara do not exist. And depending on what Gentaro would say, he didn’t want to think of the tears of ink that would adorn his back after the night ended.
The movement stopped and he felt the brush slowly being lifted out of his body. Gentaro looked at his work for a while and smiled, for he knew it was perfect. Hifumi couldn’t see anything, but he imagined the satisfaction he must feel. It was the same feeling he had felt the moment Gentaro's mouth touched his skin. He was blowing gently on top of the ink, as if to make it dry faster. It tickled him and he moved as he laughed. His laughter nearly drove Gentaro away from his body. To steady himself, he placed his hands on Hifumi's waist.
The laughter stopped immediately. Only the distant footsteps of those night creatures who still believed in the pleasure offered in Yoshiwara could be heard. Gentaro's fingers pressed against Hifumi's skin, who was left only to his touch. Once again, he could feel his lips on top of him, but this time they marked his shoulders with kisses and small bites.
Gentaro stood up, and as soon as Hifumi felt a change in weight, he missed him. When his visits began long time ago, he had no way of knowing he would be so intimate with him. No one else would be allowed to sit on top of him and write a poem on his back. Only someone he trusted could do that. And Gentaro was the chosen one, only he could see him like that: so open, so vulnerable... so real.
"Come, let's go see it."
Hifumi firmly took the hand offered by Gentaro and stood up. They walked hand in hand in front of the mirror. Facing him, Hifumi's paleness was reflected, and by his side, the emerald eyes sparkled with joy as he looked at his creation. Hifumi smiled at the image of both.
It was almost like a sign. Gentaro took Hifumi by the shoulders, turning him gently, and placing his back in front of the mirror. He reached over to the tansu chest to find another smaller mirror to let Hifumi look into what he had transformed.
Gentaro reached out with the small mirror, but before he could hand it over to Hifumi, he regretted it and put his hand back. His eyes fell to the ground, unable to find the words he wanted to say to him. But what also rested on him was Hifumi's hand, silently caressing his cheek, encouraging him to continue. He no longer had any doubt that the poem had to do with the rumors he had heard, and if Gentaro had paid more attention to the sounds, he would have been able to hear Hifumi's heart crying with anguish, for not knowing what would happen to him.
"If you could have one wish granted, what would it be?"
Gentaro's eyes rose as he asked him this. His face reflected confidence, for he knew there was only one answer. Instead, it was Hifumi who hesitated. He wanted to tell him about the red thread that bound them together and that he hoped he could always be with him, but he didn’t want to compromise him. What good would it do to tell him what he really thought? He thought again about the damn rumors. A political union would probably help Gentaro quite a bit in his career. The courtesan, more than anyone, understood this. Sadly, he shook his head back and forth.
"I do not understand your question, Gentaro-sama."
Gentaro's willing hand traveled swiftly to his cheek, caressing each other, encouraging the other. There was no need to trying to listen to his heart, for his eyes told him everything. He could see the sadness and loneliness of Hifumi, and his own face reflected in them. For a moment, Gentaro wanted to be unaware of his sadness, as he couldn’t understand the reason for it. Nevertheless, he only thought that he wanted to see himself reflected in his eyes a thousand times more, but he couldn’t until the answer came from his lips.
"Hifumi, there is something I must tell you.”
Hifumi's breathing stopped, holding himself to face the blow, unwilling to listen because of fear. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping it would be quick and painless. There was no time to close his heart and put on a shield, he needed to face everything with dignity.
"I have been playing my own version of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai. However, I have finished everything. It is said that if you tell a hundred horror stories, you can open a portal to the Afterlife. But this is not a horror story," Gentaro's temple settled on Hifumi's, lowering his voice to be heard by him alone. "It is not of terror, but of love. Of the love I feel for you. This is my hundredth poem to you. You are the poem; you are the art and passion that moves me. And what I want to open is a door to your heart."
Hifumi's body released all the tension that had built up during the night. His legs were shaking. The knot that had formed in his throat once Gentaro said they must speak was also released.
All night long, Hifumi had moved around in the darkness, thinking of the times he had lived with and for Gentaro. Thinking of how he wanted to live with him from now on, in the same light. And the path just had opened up before him. His eyes could no longer see anything in front of him, only the candlelight reflected through his tears, making everything blurry. It was Gentaro's voice that reached to his mind clearly, even if his sobs threatened to drown out his words.
Gentaro's soft hand caressed his hair, as he continued to speak to him amidst the soft kisses on his cheeks, trying to drink the pearls of joy that streamed from his eyes.
"If I could wish for anything, it is your freedom. The freedom for you to leave Yoshiwara and to love me freely as I love you. So that you can be mine. And the Imperial Court accepts this, they will welcome you with open arms at my side. My wish is for you to be Hifumi and not Izanami anymore.”
He finally found the mirror in front of him and Gentaro's hand guided his chin to look straight ahead. The mirror in front of him reflected the other one even bigger, and on his back, the hundredth love poem.
Unknown to all
Within my heart
Stained with passion’s hues
A thousand times over
I could hide no longer!
A hundred poems, Hifumi thought. They meant at least a hundred nights and a hundred days together. Gentaro had never written a poem outside this room. It meant that the red thread existed between them. The clear crystals in his eyes kept falling away, but his smile was even brighter.
Excellent, magnificent, exquisite. The most beautiful poem they could both create. There would be nothing to fear anymore. There was no longer any doubt.
Without thinking much of it, his arms were thrown around the playwright, who staggered backward at the surprise attack used by the courtesan. Still, he was warmly received, his arms holding him firmly.
"You don't know how much I love you, Gen-chan."
They were both smiling when their eyes met. Hifumi's eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly, moving closer to Gentaro and tickling his cheek. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, their lips met tenderly, first with reverence and then with passion. Hifumi's hand rose to caress the back of Gentaro's neck with soft fingers, drawing him in. It was a tender but slow kiss, for they knew it was no longer necessary to leave each other ever again. They would have all the time in the world to keep it up, loving one another.
Gentaro parted gently. His hands traveled to Hifumi's waist, where he took his clothing and began to pull it up to his body, dressing him placidly in front of the mirror. Hifumi smiled at his image, thinking that from now on he would be Gentaro’s princess.
And before his eyes, he appeared wearing the purest white kimono they could find. It would symbolize a new life, the true Hifumi. Best of all is that white could be dyed. He could no longer wait to dye himself with all the colors offered by Gentaro.
As he took a deep breath, only one question remained.
"Gen-chan, if I have the hundredth poem, what about the other ninety-nine?"
Meanwhile, Gentaro had approached his unfinished ikebana. His light hand touched the petals of the flowers until it landed on the forget-me-not that wasn’t on the vessel. Taking it firmly, he reached out to Hifumi, arranging the stem behind his ear, causing his hair to glow beautifully in the candlelight. When he had finished putting the flower in his hair, his kind voice told him all that he needed to know.
"I can read them to you as the nights go by. Would you like to hear one every day? Before they run out, you will see I will have written more of them."
Wearing his best smile, Hifumi immediately nodded. There would be only ninety-nine nights left to make another wish. That meant ninety-nine nights to think of a new wish because, for now, he couldn't wish for anything else but his fiancé at his side.
And the night was still young.
--
Notes:
1) Ikebana: Japanese art of flower arrangement.
2) Tayu: Oiran were historically high-ranking courtesans in Japan. The highest rank of courtesan was the tayū (太夫), which had sufficient prestige to refuse clients. Since they were expensive, they were the courtesans of daimyo. An oiran's outfit would consist of a number of layered silk kimono, made of heavily-decorated silk, and belted with an obi tied at the front. When outside, they used 20 cm tall paulownia wood clogs, so they have to walk making a figure-8 with their feet. Oiran didn't used socks. Please, don't confuse them with geisha.
3) Kabuki: Japanese dance-drama. It is characterized by its stylized drama and the use of elaborate make-up by the actors. Kabuki was a common form of entertainment in Yoshiwara, the registered red-light district in Edo.
4) Shamisen: A three-stringed traditional Japanese musical instrument.
5) Tansu: The traditional mobile storage cabinetry indigenous to Japan. In this one, I admit I took an artistic license. Tansu were not used as stationary furniture, and in the Edo period were highly related to the profession of the person (merchants, apothecaries, etc)
6) Ukiyo-e: Japanese art technique consisting of woodblock prints and paintings.
7) Shunga: Japanese term for erotic art. Most shunga are a type of ukiyo-e, usually executed in woodblock print format. While rare, there are extant erotic painted handscrolls which predate ukiyo-e.
8) Bijin-ga: Generic term for pictures of beautiful women in Japanese art, especially in woodblock printing of the ukiyo-e genre.
9) A note on Gentaro's poem: This poem is actually a Waka poem that belongs to Fujiwara no Takanobu. He is not known for being a poet (as his half-brother Fujiwara no Teika is even more popular) but for being a skilled portrait painter.
#hypmic#gentaro yumeno#hifumi izanami#hypmicrarepair2020#romance#drama#happy ending#Courtesan AU#Edo Period#I MADE IT#FINALLY#This is the fanfic I wanted to write since the year begun
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🏐 Protection; Russia / Ivan Braginski (Sportember #023)
📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post
Genre: Slice of Life, AU, Fluff
Word Count: 2,355
Pairing: Reader x Russia
World: Hetalia
Prompt: Protected
Sport: Volleyball
Author’s Note: This was inspired by the movie Girls with Balls, which is a girl’s volleyball movie on Netflix that I think is worth checking out. I enjoyed it more than I expected to!
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“Sarah, I’m subbing you out for Y/N,” captain Natsuki announced, shifting her eyes from you to the older girl, who straightened her back in response.
“What?”
“We need to change up the pace so we can stop their momentum,” she explained.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sarah sneered, eyes narrowed at you, making you shift awkwardly from one foot to the other. “They just joined the team, why the hell are you replacing me with them? I’m the ace, I make this team!”
Natsuki rolled her eyes. “Will you knock off the dramatics? Volleyball is a team sport, no one caries the team. All of us have to work together for the better of the team, whether you’ve just joined or been here since day one.”
“This is bullshit. You can’t win without me.”
“My decision is final.”
The two girls glared at each other and you could see the lightning between them, but before the fight could get worse, Natsu situated himself between them, a soft smile on his face. “Come now, ladies. Let’s stay focused on the task at hand!”
“Whatever. Have fun losing the tournament, losers,” Sarah humphed before turning on her heel and storming out of the gymnasium.
Kevin came up behind you, patting you on the shoulder with a bright grin upon his face. “Don’t look so worried, rookie. Just do your best!”
Natsuki nodded in agreement, holding her hand out with her palm facing the ground. “Let’s win this, team!” One by one, the other team members added their hand on top of her own, with you being on the very top of the stack. “Let’s go, Llamas! We’re gonna win this!”
“Yeah!” Everyone’s hands shot up into the air before they headed back onto the court.
You took your position on the right side of the net, taking a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart. To be honest, you were feeling very anxious, your knees shaking as you tried to focus on your breathing. You had only been with the team for a month and a half and this was your very first official game. If the team lost this match, they would be kicked from advancing in the tournament.
Part of you felt guilty for taking Sarah’s spot and you wondered if the captain was making a mistake by putting you in the game at such a crucial point. Your eyes slid to the scoreboard behind the opposite team. Second set, twenty-three to twenty-four in favor of the other team. If they get one more point, they win the second set and we’ll have to fight through another one.
‘Two points… just two points and we win the game. We have to win!’ But that’s easier said than done. Your eyes shifted to the stands when you felt eyes piercing into you, locking onto the violet eyes of your boyfriend, Ivan. When he caught your gaze, he smiled brightly, waving at you. Knowing he was there supporting you definitely made it easier.
The other team served the ball and Natsuki received it flawlessly. “Kevin, cover!”
“I got it!” He prepared to set the ball and both you and Natsu rushed forward, feet pushing off the wooden floor. You didn’t expect him to send it to you, but it made sense in hindsight because Natsu was being marked by the other team’s tallest players.
It all happened so quickly. In a split second, the ball was in front of you, your hand slapping against it in order to spike the ball to the other side. The libero dived for it but fell a few inches short. You had done it, you had scored a point for your team.
Your feet touched the ground again and you stared at your hand with wide eyes, the skin red from the impact. Your first point in an official game… and it felt amazing!
“Nice kill!” Kevin smacked your shoulder.
“Don’t lose focus!” Natsuki ordered, glancing to Natsu who was up to serve the ball.
You held your breath as he tossed the ball into the air before running forward and launching his body into the air, his palm smacking into the ball and sending it flying over the net. It was heading straight for the back corner where no one was and you were sure it was going to land, but the libero dived for it, just barely managing to save it.
“Chance ball!”
“I’ve got it!” Lex received, popping the ball up toward Kevin.
Kevin’s eyes met yours and you knew he was going to set it straight for you again. This time, though, you had one of the other team’s blockers on you and damn if he wasn’t tall. The ball fell into his hands for a split second before it was back in the air, heading straight toward you as promised.
You pushed off the ground, jumping into the air with the blocker following your lead, arms towering over the net. You didn’t feel comfortable with the challenge, but you were determined not to let them get the point. With every ounce of strength you had, your hand slammed into the ball, trying to curve it toward the left where there was an opening. It scraped against his pinky, slowing down in the process.
One of the spikers managed to grab the ball and, as soon as your feet touched the ground, you jumped again along with Natsu and Natsuki, trying to block their spike. You spread your fingers as wide as you could, barely touching the ball.
“Nice one touch!”
“Lex, cover it!”
“I got it!” Lex received and Kevin set up again, sending the ball to Natsuki who spiked it with enough power to make the blocker stumble when he landed. Several of them dived for it but were unable to reach it.
The crowd cheered but the sound was drowned out by the screaming of you and your teammates as you all piled onto Natsuki, hugging onto each other as if the win would disappear if you let go.
“Good job, guys!” Natsuki grinned.
“You did good, rookie,” Kevin ruffled your hair before hugging his captain.
Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, the familiar smell of vodka and pine invading your nostrils as Ivan’s warm chest pressed against your back. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Congratulations, lyubov moya.”
Your cheeks heated up and you pouted, tapping his large hand. “Ivan, I’m all sweaty!”
He laughed, tightening his grip around you. “I don’t mind.”
“Hey, rookie. Wanna join us for some dinner?” Kevin questioned with a bright smile, not paying any mind to the large man behind you.
Although tempted to agree because you were starving, you could feel Ivan’s aura darkening because of the other male and you didn’t want to cause any issues. “I appreciate it, but I think I’ll just go home and get some much-needed rest.”
“No problem! If you keep playing like that, you’ll be a regular in no time!” He winked before turning around and heading back to the others.
Ivan’s smile remained, his voice cheerful, but you could hear the anger in his tone. “I don’t like that man~”
“You don’t have to,” you replied softly, turning in his grasp and meeting his intense violet eyes. “I love you, Ivan. Thank you so much for coming to support me! Let’s get home now, okay?”
His muscles relaxed, eyes sliding closed as he gave you a soft, genuine smile. “Da, let us go now.” He slid his large hand into your own, fingers lacing together as he tugged you toward the door and away from the rest of the team.
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You glanced at the clock before returning to the workbook in front of you, filled with various Russian words and phrases. It was slow going, but you were trying hard to learn the language of your boyfriend’s homeland because you thought it was beautiful and you wanted to surprise him with it.
It was getting late, just passing nine-twenty at night, but you had suddenly gotten a craving for an icee, probably because of how hot it was. It was the end of summer, after all, the season clinging on with everything it had and it just so happened that the AC in the house had gone out earlier that day. The fan was working hard to keep your cool, but it simply wasn’t enough to do so.
Ivan had been called to a meeting that he couldn’t afford to miss earlier in the day, promising to return as soon as he could but, as of thirty minutes ago, he claimed that the meeting didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. You told him not to worry and decided to use the time away from him to continue your studies, but you just couldn’t get the image of a cherry icee out of your head.
Finally, you decided to say fuck it and hid your notebooks just in case Ivan returned home before grabbing your keys and heading out into the night. The dark sky was covered with light grey clouds, blocking out the crescent moon and the stars. The street lamps were casting a dim yellow light on the road, making the darkness between them seem even inkier.
To be completely honest, you felt calmer at night. It was nice being out and about as the city was sleeping, homes dark and stores mostly empty, the streets barren. It was like the world entered an alternate dimension once the sun disappeared and you loved it.
You turned the corner, seeing the bright lights of the convenience store in the distance, feeling your spirits brighten at the thought of getting an icee. A hand shot out, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder before shoving you back against the brick wall with enough force to knock the wind from your lungs. Your eyes snapped toward the person before widening in surprise.
“Sarah?”
She sneered at you. “You’ve got some nerve, bitch, taking my spot. That shitty team has only made it as far as they have because of me, because my spikes can’t be stopped. You think you can take my place? Fat chance! They’ll get rid of you as soon as you fuck up.”
You scowled at her. “You’re just bitter, but you brought this on yourself. You’ve never been a team player and you really think you can win volleyball on your own, but it doesn’t work that way. I was given your spot because you refuse to play nice with the others or respect the captain! You’re a joke, Sarah, get over yourself.” You tried to brush past her but she grabbed your upper arm, nails digging into your skin. “Let go!”
“You can’t take my place if you’re injured,” she smirked, eyes shimmering with malice.
Fear gripped at your heart, not knowing what she was planning, but you held on to the hope that she was just venting and not being serious. You licked your lips nervously. “Even if you get rid of me, someone else will just take my place. You can’t play a team sport alone and until you get that into your head, Natsuki will keep replacing you.”
“Then I’ll just keep making them have little accidents,” her grip tightened on your own and she pushed you back against the wall, her free hand going to your throat. Panic gripped you as your airflow was cut off, your hands swiping at her to try and get her to release her grip, but it was like iron. She was clearly stronger than you after years and years of playing volleyball.
Your body wriggled under her grip, trying desperately to kick or scratch her, but nothing was working, her grip only increasing. Your head was beginning to feel fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, tears stinging at your eyes. Was this where you were going to meet your end?
Thonk.
The grip on your throat disappeared and you fell to your knees, gasping for air as your hand went to your sore skin. Through blurred eyes, you looked up at the dark silhouette of a man standing with his back to you, towering over the unconscious girl. A lead pipe was clenched tightly in his gloved hand, blood dripping from the tip where he had struck her.
The man slowly turned around, the light of the streetlamp lighting up his face. Violet eyes softened when they landed on you, lips tugged down to show his displeasure. “Are you injured, lyubov moya?”
“Ivan,” you breathed out, pushing yourself back to sit against the wall. You always knew he was more than capable, and willing, to commit violent acts against others, but you had never actually seen him do this before. Then again, you had never been in a life-threatening situation before, either.
He shifted, his weight from one foot to the other, his heart clenching within his chest. “Are you afraid of me, lyubov moya?” he questioned softly. “I do what I must to protect my most beloved. You understand, da?”
“Yeah, I understand…” you breathed deeply, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. “I know you’d never hurt me.”
Those words gave him confidence and he closed the distance, kneeling down beside you, the pipe clinking as he set it down on the ground. “I’m glad you understand!” he responded cheerfully, bringing his large hand up to ruffle your hair. “I love you, Y/N. I will do anything to protect you.”
You looked into his eyes, shimmering with love and warmth as his hand slid to cup your cheek. “Is she… dead?”
“Only if you want her to be!” He chirped happily, tilting his head so that his sandy blonde bangs shifted across his closed eyes.
You sweatdropped. “Let’s not, okay? I just want to go back home.”
With a nod, he slipped his arms under your body, bringing you against his warm chest, his lips pressing against the top of your head before carrying you back home, thoughts of the icee long forgotten.
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#sportemberwritings#sportember#russia#russia aph#hetalia#axis powers hetalia#ivan braginski#writing#creative writing#writeblr#scenario#scenarios#anime scenarios#anime scenario#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfics#anime fanfic#anime fanfics#reader insert#reader-insert#reader#one shot#slice of life#au#alternate universe#fluff#sportember 20
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✧ Astrological Oracle Cards
Author/Artist: Lunaea Weatherstone & Antonella Castelli
Editor: Lo Scarabeo
ISBN: 978-88865271481 ✧ 978-0-88079-965-2
Link: https://shop.loscarabeo.com/index.php?id_product=553&controller=product&id_lang=1
Disclaimer: No matter how much I played with the settings of my camera it just refused to render the colours as muted as they actually are. While they look vibrant on the following pictures, please bear in mind they look much more worn out in reality, keeping with the classical tones associated with the Art Nouveau movement.
Today, let's take a look at an oracle deck. I have selected one of the first ones I acquired, which blends the themes of Astrology and Art Nouveau. It is published by Lo Scarabeo which is quite a big deck editor, offering options for all tastes and needs. In this review, let's focus on the Astrological Oracle Cards.
✧ The Box
The box is a gorgeous, deep, emerald green with accents of silver on the moon, stars and the character's jewellery, as well as on some text. The character represented on the box front is the one you will find on the Luna card.
On the back of the box, you can see a sample of cards (Aries, Cancer, Scorpio and Saturnus). You can also read a short intro: “The wisdom of the stars in everyday living in 22 Art Nouveau cards. Feelings and intuition indicate the path towards the spirituality of the stars”. This is written in 6 different languages: English, French, Italian, German, Spanish and Russian, the languages usually used in every Lo Scarabeo deck. The full telescope box comes with a fabric band to help pick up the cards and booklet. The inside of the box is simply plain green.
It looks and feels gorgeous!
✧ The Cards
To be honest, after seeing such a gorgeous box, I was expecting the cards to bear a similar depth of colour. In actuality, the illustrations remain true to more traditional Art Nouveau palettes, which makes use of warmer but more muted colours.
There are 22 cards, 10 planets and 12 signs, and they are slightly bigger than usual RWS cards, but they remain comfortable to handle. The finish is nice and glossy, with a few small, matte, silver elements ( backgrounds, stars, jewels, hair, etc). The edges are also silver.
Now let's touch on the illustrations.
The planets are illustrated by deities from the Roman pantheon. Some of them will have additional symbols, relevant to their interpretation. For example, Luna has moths in the background, Venus has shells, Neptune has a bunch of sea horses and Pluto has skulls. Jupiter is accompanied by his eagle while Uranus holds a globe. The others are decorated with flowers only.
The two top corners of each Planet card are decorated with flowers, and these framing elements are present on each of those cards, only changing colour from one card to the other. In the top left corner you can find the name of the planet, a glyph in the top right corner and a name-plate at the bottom center of each card. I'm not quite sure why the name appears twice, but It may have something to do with some of the layouts of the Zodiac cards. Overall, each planet card is designed with the same layout, which does bring consistency and feels finished and tidy.
As for the meaning associated with the cards, not all are representative of their astrological properties: for example Mars doesn't convey any energy, power or action and Mercurius doesn't show anything related to intelligence, communication or swiftness. Yet these are the meanings attached to them by the booklet, which would result in a hard time intuitively reading the cards for someone who is unfamiliar with astrology.
The zodiac signs are all illustrated as white women. Now, granted, Art Nouveau focuses almost exclusively on the elegance of the female body, but I do believe that the deck would have benefited from some more variety in representation (more different skin tones, body types, ornament, flora, etc). This uniformity may deter some readers.
Now, where the planet cards showed a consistency in the layout, this is completely thrown out the window in the zodiac cards:
7 cards bear the name of the sign in the top left corner and the glyph in the top right corner (Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Aquarius and Pisces).
The other 5 cards also show the title and glyph of each sign, but they are complemented by an additional illustration of the said sign:
3 cards show the illustration within a circle, located at the bottom center of the cards (Aries, Cancer, Capricorn).
1 card shows such a circle but it is located to the bottom left (which is ironic, because it's the Libra card, the one that SHOULD display balance).
1 card shows the illustration in a rectangle, located at the bottom center (Scorpio).
1 card has this rectangle on the bottom left (Taurus) and one on the bottom right (Leo).
When sorted by element or mode, the cards do not show more coordination either. (the Earth signs almost had something going with 2/3 cards having a green undertone).
As an artist and fan of Art Nouveau, this sort of random composition stands out like a sore thumb to me. I would have understood if each card was different, if the extra illustrations for the signs were (or were not) present on every card, but no such luck.
As for the illustrations themselves, some of them are really on point (the water signs clearly display more emotions than other signs and Gemini, Sagittarius, Virgo and Capricorn are quite representative of their sign. Other signs look more generic and less inspired, such as Aries, Taurus, Leo, Scorpio and Aquarius.
The back of the cards is decorated with a symmetric deign made of pomegranates and stars, with the same muted colours as the card fronts. Why pomegranates? They are the symbol of Persephone/Proserpina, who is not referred to in any of the cards. There are so many symbols that could have been more relevant to the theme, such as a zodiac wheel, or the 4 elements, or constellations, etc.
✧ The Little White Book
At first glance, the booklet is an impressive 192 pages long. However, you have to account for the fact that it contains 6 different parts, one per language. The actual content is about 50 pages per language. It starts off with the interpretations of the signs, the planets and the houses (while there are no cards representing the 12 astrological houses, they will come up in the recommended spreads).
It proceeds to present two different spread. In the first spread, you draw two planet cards (therefore all planet combinations are covered in the booklet). In the second, you create an astrological wheel, pulling the sign that corresponds to the 1st house at random and then arranging the other signs accordingly. You then select the house you want to focus on and draw a planet card to place there. All the planet-sign combinations are also available in the booklet. Also, the houses are explained again in this part of the book, with a shorter blurb this time (more like a reminder). I actually really like this one spread and will probably build up on it. All in all, the booklet covers a lot of information.
The last page shows the glyphs of the planets and signs.
The cover is adorned with Luna while the back is illustrated with Sol, both enhanced by the gorgeous silver effects you find on the box.
✧ Conclusion
▐ Likes
Astrology and Art Nouveau.That's a killer combo!
Lovely illustrations and finish.
The suggested spreads are interesting and a bit out of the ordinary.
The booklet is very interesting and provides a lot of interpretations based on combinations of 2 planets and of a sign and a planet.
▐ Dislikes
The box and the cards don't feel like they are part of a set.
Some card illustrations seem uninspired.
No consistency in the cards design.
The depth of symbolism found is Astrology is left unutilised in the illustrations.
Some cards do not convey their actual meaning easily (or at all)
To be perfectly candid, I like this deck. Despite all it's flaws, I still refer to these cards as signifiers in my readings because Art Nouveau speaks to me on a deeper level.
However as someone who's education was about the visual arts, their history and their critique, I have to admit it feels superficial and rushed. The illustrations are shallow interpretations of the signs and planets, carefully avoiding the wealth of symbols and correspondences associated with each of them. This can be a problem for readers who have no background in Astrology and can make it hard to read as there is no deeper meaning to rely on.
I also picked up some favouritism when it comes to the signs cards. Some clearly had more effort put into them, while others only get a generic illustration.
This prompted me to look further into the artist's work. It turns out that the Neo Art Nouveau style is her speciality and she has illustrated numerous decks. I am quite surprised as I would not consider this deck a success. I might, in the future, purchase another deck illustrated by the artist, for the sake of comparison and also to give her another chance.
Overall, while I still enjoy this deck, looking in detail into it made me realise how imperfect it is. It also allowed me to realise how the cards have a very low energy feel to them. So while it is a pretty deck, it is not perfect. If you think this could bother you, I would not recommend this deck. But if you don't mind and have a good knowledge of astrology, then why not give it a shot?
✧ Rating
✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧
Thank you for reading and see you later, little MonStars!
#oracle deck#oracle#cartomancy#astrology#moon#luna#sol#sun#mercury#mars#venus#jupiter#saturn#uranus#neptune#pluto#aries#taurus#gemini#cancer#leo#virgo#libra#scorpio#sagittarius#capricorn#aquarius#pisces#zodiac#birth chart
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The 100: 6x09 What You Take With You
How amazing was this episode? It is, so far, one of the two best episodes of the season (alongside 6x07) and probably in my top 10 favorite The 100 episodes of all time.
It benefited from its focus on just three storylines and a limited number of characters, which allowed it to properly focus on the characters and their psychological and emotional journeys.
The title seems to be a reference to the Dagobah cave scene in The Empire Strikes Back, or rather, the dialogue right before it:
Luke: There is something not right here. I feel cold, death.
Yoda: That place… is strong with the dark side of the Force. A domain of evil it is. In you must go.
Luke: What’s in there?
Yoda: Only what you take with you.
Luke ends up having a hallucination of fighting Darth Vader in the cave and killing him, only to take off his helmet and see his own face, in possibly the most famous movie scene of a character confronting their “Shadow” self.
So, when the episode titles for season 6 of The 100 were released, it wasn’t hard to guess that this episode would contain scenes of a character “facing their demons” in a fantasy sequence (and which character it would be, especially as we had seen glimpses of Octavia fighting the Blodreina version of herself in the trailer). As a fan of psychological character exploration through trippy fantasy sequences, I had high expectations from this episode regarding Octavia’s story – and they were completely fulfilled and maybe exceeded. I wasn’t expecting to see Charles Pike in Octavia’s hallucination soul-searching, and his appearance and how he was used was brilliant.
The other two, equally important storylines, were:
the continuation of the saga about the Bellamy/Clarke relationship through the story about the fight between Josephine and Clarke for control of Clarke’s body, and Bellamy’s attempts to save Clarke from real and certain death;
and the conclusion of the opposite storyline - about Abby crossing a lot of ethical lines to work with the Primes and use bodysnatching to resurrect Kane in another body. This was the final death of Marcus Kane, a tragic end of Kabby romance, but it also a fitting ending for Kane, with him asserting his own integrity and morality by choosing to die and refuse to be complicit in the practices of the Primes, but to instead start a fight against them. It will also probably be the turning point in Abby’s character arc. The resolution of this storyline has caused a lot of controversy and anger, which I don’t understand, since Kane’s decision was obvious and in-character, so much that I predicted it last week, because it was the only thing that made sense narratively and for Kane’s characterization.
More thoughts under the cut.
Octavia vs Blodreina
The fact we still don’t know what happened to Diyoza or to Octavia in the Anomaly makes me think that this is a plot that will carry over to season 7, after the bodysnatching business is wrapped up. And the more they postpone the resolution, the more hopeful I am for Diyoza to survive season 6.
Choosing the angry, violent red box instead of the calm green box is such an Octavia thing to do. But maybe it was the right thing in this case, as it let her face her demons head on and figure things out for herself.
The red butterflies scene was one of the many callbacks to season 1.
Pike’s role made sense because Octavia’s descent into darkness was not just prompted by the trauma of Lincoln’s death at Pike’s hands, but also because it started when she decided to murder Pike for revenge, making herself judge, jury and executioner. That was the first time she committed actual murder, as opposed to killing people in fight. She probably thought at the time, as a big portion of the fandom did, that Pike was a bad guy and had it coming. But one could now say the same thing about Octavia herself, and she is obviously aware of it. If Pike deserved to die, doesn’t she, too? Using the same standards, shouldn’t she be murdered for revenge by someone like James (the Wonkru guy from 6x02, who lost his mother in the gorge and blames Octavia fori t)? In fact, Octavia tried to get him to kill her, because, on some level, she thought she deserved death, too, even while she was pretending that she didn’t feel any guilt and trying to justify all her actions. Why should Bellamy ever forgive her for throwing him into the fighting pit to die? I can see many similarities between Octavia and Pike: both of them are fighters by nature, both were driven by the desire to save and protect people, both were angry and traumatized by what had been done to their people, and both were also prone to black-and-white thinking and harsh judgment of their enemies. As Octavia’s mind version of Pike pointed out, we are products of what we have done, and what has been done to us. Pike is an embodiment of both for Octavia. And Pike himself was a product of what the Ice Nation under Queen Nia had done to him – killing almost all of the people he grew up with, many right in front of him (including 15 children), which made him go into the woods to fight for months. Pike started pre-emptively seeing Grounders as enemies even when they were not, and eventually, as a Chancellor, started acting as a dictator and hunting for traitors in his camp. Octavia started by proclaiming everyone (or almost everyone – Echo didn’t count) her people, One people, but that eventually turned into tyranny and seeing enemies in everyone who disagreed or refused to do everything she asked of them. Pike condemned Lincoln to death and execute him for the same reasons Octavia as Blodreina condemned Bellamy, Indra and Gaia to the fighting pit: to maintain authority and show that rebellion is not allowed and will be punished by death. We may not have seen this put into words, but Octavia’s vision of Blodreina in Pike’s role, condemning/executing Pike the way he had Lincoln, showed her realization about herself. „Pike“ even reminded Octavia that he was trying to earn his redemption by doing good when she killed him. Of course, since Pike was really an enbodiment of a part of Octavia’s own mind, it is really something she has been thinking about and that she’s telling herself. It’s a level of self-reflection that I never expected to see from Octavia of the earlier seasons, and shows how much she’s grown.
So does she deserve redemption? As „Pike“ pointed out, it is not about deserving. You just need to make the decision to go and do good, and not be Blodreina anymore, shown by her symbolic killing of „Blodreina“. She is still to actually start her redemption arc, but getting into the right frame of mind and realizing she wants to change and do better was the necessary first step.
Kane’s goodbye
I’ve already written quite a bit about Abby’s emotional and ethical downfall and the tragic development of the Kabby relationship in seasons 5-6 here and I predicted that the storyline would end with Kane’s death by his own choice (and that Henry Ian Cusick would return to play Kane in a vision for his last scene), even though I didn’t guess when or how it would happen.
Unlike some other fans, I find this to be a very fitting ending for Marcus Kane. I don’t think of what he did as suicide, but as a sacrifice, or, more than anything, a refusal to legitimize and benefit from an evil practice that involves brainwashing people so they could be lambs easily led to slaughter, and then murdering them as lesser and disposable, so you could prolong your own life. He couldn’t fight against it, speak against it, while being in a stolen body himself. (There is a reason why Gabriel is ashamed to admit to his followers that he lives in a host body.) Everything about it was wrong to him, and went against everything he believes in. (Meeting Gavin’s widow and realizing that the Primes are lying to their people also played a role. As Gabriel confirmed in this episode, and as Kane 2.0 and the other Primes, no doubt, are aware, there is no trace of the host mind after the transfer – unless the transfer fails.)
Indra has finally been woken up! But is she staying on the ship now, and if so, when do we see her again? I’m glad she got to say goodbye to her friend before his death. I like the fact that Indra pointed out that both the Arkers and the Grouders had some disturbing practices of their own, but Kane gave the logical answer (something I was hoping someone would point out at any point) – the fact we did bad things in the past, doesn’t mean we should let evil things happen. That’s not how morality (or common sense) works.
The show loves angst, so of course, Kane’s death had to be exactly like Jake Griffin’s death (which we saw in the flashbacks in 1x03), and Abby had to witness it. But, as Raven pointed out, it is better for her if she gets to say goodbye. (Raven would know, since she never got to say goodbye to Finn or Shaw. Or Sinclair.) Kabby has been one of my favorite ships on the show – because it is one of the very few romantic relationships that was well developed, way before Kane and Abby got together. Their chemistry was obvious since season 1. And while Greyston Holt did a great job playing Kane 2.0, it only made sense that Henry Ian Cusick return to play Kane in that last scene, when Kane appeared to Abby the way she saw him in her mind-eye - which also made him feel like real Kane to the audience. The scene was truly beautiful and sad, with Abby’s heartbreak, and Indra and Raven reciting the Ark prayer (with Indra adding the Grounder “Your fight is over”). I don’t think that Kane would really do the same to bring Abby back – or that Abby would have done it if she had been in a healthier state of mind, but I can see why he told Abby that. While he disagreed with her decision and couldn’t accept it, he showed understanding, empathy and love to her, while urging her to let him go and continue her life.
All in all, considering the tricky actor availability situation due to Cusick’s role on another show, I think that the writing staff have found a good way to give Kane a proper sendoff, and make it meaningful and highly relevant to this season’s themes and main plot.
In a way, it’s more Abby’s tragedy than Kane’s – he made the decision that was the only right one, one of the most in-character things he’s ever done, but Abby is still lost and needs to let go off Kane, really recover from addiction, and find her own sense of morality again.
The Kane/Abby storyline and relationship this season is juxtaposed to the Josephine/Gabriel story – and the Clarke/Bellamy story. We have seen bodysnatching as something people (Gabriel, Russell and Simone with Josephine, Abby with Kane) resort to in order to resurrect someone they love. But while Josephine couldn’t be happier about it – because she’s selfish and, let’s say, morally challenged, Kane, with his deep sense of morality, could never accept that. We’ve also seen a storyline about Bellamy doing everything to save Clarke – but while all of those are motivated by love, the big difference between what Bellamy is doing and what Abby has done (and what Gabriel initially did when he resurrected Josephine, at the expense of 40+ of the people he had raised from embryos) is that Bellamy is fighting against an evil act, to right a wrong, as opposed to doing evil or enabling evil.
Bellarkephine
Bellarke has always been the central relationship on the show, but it’s never been as front and center as it is this season. In 6x07, Clarke gave up on living at the moment when Josephine managed to convince her that Bellamy had given up on her and moved on and that he and everyone are better off without her, and the last few been about Bellamy being willing to do everything to get Clarke back. The show is being really obvious about Bellamy’s and Clarke’s feelings for other other, even more so than it was in the previous seasons (and I happen to think it was already quite obvious). It’s not the first time that other characters have called out those two on their feelings for each other (from Lexa noticing in season 2 that Clarke cares for Bellamy and worries about him more than about her other people, to ALIE!Raven in season 3, taunting Bellamy over being more devoted to Clarke than his girlfriend Gina, to Octavia calling out Bellamy in season 5 and calling Clarke another traitor who he loves), but now it is an integral part of the main story, the way it was not before.
I’ll say one thing, though – while it is undeniable, seeing his behavior over the previous few episodes. that Bellamy cares for Clarke more than anyone else at this point, as Josephine points out (and that statement implies that he cares for her more than his girlfriend, Echo), I think one should be fair and acknowledge that Clarke is in danger of certain and definite death, after a definite and short period of time, while the others back in Sanctum are only in danger of potential death, so I don’t think it would be fair if they begrudged Bellamy going off to save Clarke.
This dynamic was weird, because Bellamy was simultaneously not fond of (to put it mildly) of Josephine, but was incredibly tender and caring with her body, because it was Clarke’s body, and Clarke is still in there somewhere. The way he gently wiped JoClarke’s black blood and put his own, so the Children of Gabriel wouldn’t know she was a Nightblood, reminds me of Bellamy cutting himself to fool the Ark guards, so they wouldn’t know the blood belonged to Octavia, when she would accidentally cut herself.
Josephine said that love was the reason why Sanctum would be destroyed – implying not just that her father put everything in danger for his love for her (by putting her in Clarke’s body), but also that Bellamy’s love for Clarke and his determination to save would be the cause of Sanctum’s destruction. It’s the 3rd time that the word “love” has been used on the show to describe Bellamy’s and Clarke’s feelings for each other: the first time was in season 2 when Clarke said she was being weak when she tried to keep Bellamy from going to Mount Weather, because love is weakness; the second time was in season 5, when Octavia called out Bellamy on pleading for the life of a traitor who you love; and this is the third time.
The moment when Bellamy looked at Clarkephine when he knew Clarke could hear him, and paused before saying “I won’t let you die”, was one of those moments where Bellamy or Clarke seem to want to say more, or are saying a lot more, through or instead of a statement like “Hurry” or “Don’t feel bad about leaving me here”. Those two have always had their own way of saying ILY.
Bellamy replying “Tell me about it” when Josephine called the “weird” relationship between him and Clarke “exhausting” has to be one of the best meta moments on the show.
(BTW, I don’t think Bellamy actually wanted to kill Clarke in 1x02 – the first moment he could have let her die, he saved her. But maybe she thought so, or maybe Josephine saw her memories and drew that conclusion. Also, the show Josie is misusing the word “genocide” and should look up the definition.)
But after a while, what was Josephine trying to taunt Bellamy, turned into Josephine being moved by Bellamy’s love for Clarke – not because she’s a compassionate person (she’s not), but because it reminds her of Gabriel’s love she had and lost. We got her explicit confirmation that she has really been in love with him, since they got to the planet (which may have been the first time they met). And while we know, from his reactions in 6x08, that he is still in love with her (but she may not know that), he has still been trying to kill her for the last 70 years – because she is a villain and is largely responsible for maintaining a terrible system of oppression and murder. This is the main difference between Gabriel/Josephine and Bellarke: Clarke is actually not a villain, she is a hero. Josephine is the villain that some of the characters and a part of the fandom imagines Clarke to be, because they are not paying attention to the actual story.
I love the fact that Clarke used the Morse code, for the second time, but now to both mock Josephine with “Boohoo” and try to make Bellamy laugh, while confirming that she was able to hear them both.
It’s really amazing just how Bellarke-heavy this episode was, even though Clarke and Bellamy weren’t able to directly interact most of the time – and haven’t been since 6x04. The one moment when they did get a chance to interact, for some 10 seconds, was when Clarke temporarily took control over her body because Josephine realized she sucked at defending herself and had to let Clarke do it. And it was amazing – the way Eliza changed her expression, voice and demeanor and the way she looked at Bellamy, the way Bellamy immediately knew she was Clarke, the chemistry that was suddenly there again in full force when it was Bellamy and Clarke interacting, rather than Bellamy and Josephine. Clarke is determined to never leave Bellamy again (as we saw in 5x13, when she was not willing to leave him behind even while they were seconds away from missiles hitting), but this time, he was right that literally staying there would have killed her, so she did the smart thing and sneaked him the keys – allowing him to save himself, while he let her go to save herself.
My judgement of the Children of Gabriel after 6x03 still stands: morally ambiguous group, the right goal, but too murder-happy.
Josephine may be a 200+ old narcissistic, evil Prime that I want to die, but her interactions with Clarke are really fun. It was great to see Clarke get the upper hand, at least for a while, and be in control again. And I loved the fact that Clarke rubbed it into Josephine’s face that she had stolen some skills from her – and calling her out on the irony of Josephine complaining about it, while living in Clarke’s stolen body.
I can’t wait to see Josephine and Gabriel reunited, and Octavia and Clarke and Bellamy reunited – but I’m also looking forward to more of the Clarke/Josephine fight for control in the mindspace.
Rating: 10/10
#the 100#the 100 6x09#what you take with you#the 100 season 6#octavia blake#marcus kane#abby griffin#bellamy x clarke#bellamy blake#clarke griffin#bellarke#josephine lightbourne#blodreina#charles pike#gabriel santiago#charmaine diyoza#indra#indra kom trikru#raven reyes#kabby#kane x abby#abby x marcus
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Aria’s Long List of Lucifer & Deckerstar Fic Recs - Part 3
Hello, all! Since I completed writing Castaway earlier in September, I’ve finally had a chance to start catching up on my reading list. I still have tons left to read, but I think I’ve hit critical mass on fics I liked enough to recommend, so I’m back with another round of recs!
These recs are organized by author name and category (for the most part), and the list order is not meant to imply an order of preference. All recommendations are completed fics unless otherwise noted. If anyone knows the @ tumblr names for any of the authors I missed tagging, or if I got anything wrong, please let me know.
You can find my other recs posts here (part 1), here (part 2), here (part 4), here (Part 5), and here (part 6).
S3E24 Aftermath Fics
Some Kind of Mysterious by Autumn Rayne
~2300 words
This is a lovely little peek into Chloe’s reaction. She’s somewhat thrown for a loop and initially pulls back, but as she slowly regains her footing in this new reality, the repeated refrain of “she does not miss Lucifer” becomes increasingly full of denial. Charming!
It would be for this by Dreamline
~4600 words
Heaven and hell were words to me by nosecoffee ( @nose-coffee )
~2600 words
I’m listing these two stories together because they’re a series of sorts. The first story is told from Trixie’s POV, which is a great use of dramatic irony. Because of how the story is constructed, the reader knows far more about what’s going on that Trixie does, which prompts a bit of puzzle solving on the part of the reader, and the result is lovely. The second story is told from Lucifer’s POV, waking up in the aftermath. The last few lines in particular are heart-wrenching and perfect.
Beautiful man with a beautiful face, who was not a man at all by an_earl
~8800 words
An_earl has a lovely, lyrical style of writing that’s captivating. I enjoyed reading about Chloe, now in the know, considering past events in a new light. Also, delicious angst so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Carry On by IceQueen1 ( @disappearinginq )
~5000k words
Chloe reacts. Lucifer misunderstands said reaction. Some lovely heartfelt drama ensues. Perfect all around.
heart to heart (soul to soul) by Lesza ( @spiacooczna )
~3000 words
This story starts with Chloe and Lucifer at odds, but the ice is gradually broken via the use of text messages, which is something I can intimately relate with because I’ve lived it (not the Devil reveal, obviously, but social anxiety that was resolved in a similar way). This was the first story I read in my current “binge,” and I was captivated from start to finish. Lovely angst, and the ending will make your heart soar.
Simpatico by pixelbypixel ( @pixelbypixelfanfic)
~3100 words
For a funny, more off-the-wall approach to post S3, a distraught Lucifer commiserates with Deadpool. This made me laugh and smile so much, which was something I sorely needed when I read it.
Aftershocks by Subsequent ( @inclines )
~19400 words
A lovely, more light-hearted approach to the “aftershocks” of S3E24. Chloe deals with being “in the know,” and the gang deals with fixing the mess left behind by Cain. Lots of humorous touches and great lines, to include everybody quickly being brought into the Lucifer is Lucifer loop.
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @spirantization
~31,000 words
A series, currently of three works. I haven’t yet had the opportunity to read the third piece, but the first two are a delight. Poor Chloe is trying desperately to keep up with her new reality, and failing woefully at every turn. Meanwhile, in the second story, Lucifer and Maze perpetrate some of the most hysterical sniping and snark at each other that I’ve ever read. And, of course, there’s M.V.P. Linda, a perennial presence in both stories, trying to referee this whole mess. I have so much love for this series!
Other Great Reads:
Remedy by IceQueen1 ( @disappearinginq )
~1500 words
Haunting, horrifying, engrossing look at what might happen to Lucifer if someone realized angel feathers could cure human ailments.
Paradiso by @theleafpile
~60000 words
I normally don’t read AUs, particularly not “all human” ones, but this story was basically a giant, “Oh, really?” that proved me wrong at every turn. I loved this. Theleafpile has a lyrical, poetic, enchanting writing style that will suck you right in and refuse to let you go, and even with the setting so vastly altered, all of the canonical characters were instantly recognizable and believable in their new incarnations. Beautiful angst. Creative storytelling. Do pay attention to the tags, but absolutely worth a read (or nine).
That’s How You Know by @notonelineff
~7000 words
A gorgeous established-relationship fic. Lucifer hasn’t said those big three words, yet, and Chloe is starting to agonize over why that might be. All of her friends provide her with examples that show, while Lucifer might not say it, he feels it. Perfect use of ensemble. Great balance of fluff and angst. If pining is your happy-place trope, this fic is so for you.
They Who Fight Monsters by @obliobla
~3500 words
Suuuper dark, haunting look at Lucifer as a punisher, which also puts Chloe in an interesting light as she gets sucked into enabling Lucifer’s eye-for-an-eye form of justice.
Your Smile Makes My Soul Shine by @obliobla
~9500 words
As you all have probably figured out, I am a complete sucker for Lucifer characterizations that fully incorporate the idea that he’s about … a zillion million years old, and has Seen Some Shit (™). Set in a nebulous time period where Chloe knows the truth, Chloe and Lucifer make a go at dating, and the results are enchanting to read. Angsty, humorous, heartwarming, sad, lovely, all in one fic, all in perfect balance.
What Dreams May Come by @pellaaearien
~1000 words
In which Trixie has a nightmare, and Lucifer makes it better. Just a quick little shot of wingfic fluff that was adorable :) Guaranteed to make you smile!
Stars by @tarysande
~2300 words
A beautiful, heart-wrenching, heartwarming, sweet, sad character piece that examines Lucifer through Trixie’s eyes. Deals with Lucifer’s more mythic aspects, namely that he created the stars, with a perfect ending. Tarysande’s writing style is so easy-to-read and lyrical; I only wish I could replicate it.
(Don’t) Put Your Arms Around Me by SomeoneAsGoodAsYou (the_wanlorn)
~9500 words.
Another Lucifer & Trixie centric piece that I just love, in which Lucifer disdainfully asks of Linda: “What’s the point of ... hugging?” Beautifully written look at Lucifer warming up a bit to “the offspring,” and to some of the more touchy-feely quirks of humanity in general. Lovely Deckerstar moments as well. The_wanlorn’s characterization of Lucifer (and everyone really) is perfect, and your heart will be so full by the end of this one.
WIPs worth a mention:
After by Apparition ( @devilish-apparition )
~21000 words
Previously recommended as a one-shot. The author has since opted to expand into a compelling post S3E24 narrative with some promising, surprising new myth-expansion elements.
City of Fallen Angels by Endelda & NostalgiaKick
~17000 words
A quirky crossover between Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman, and Lucifer. Set near the end of S1 in Lois & Clark, and near the end of S3 in Lucifer. The author draws some really interesting parallels between the characters of both shows in this charming, thoughtful piece. Technically not a WIP, as it is finished, but it is being posted episodically.
Endless by Destany_Mitchell
~10000 words
If you like Lucifer & Ella friendship, and want to read more world building a la ATWL, this might be a read for you! The author has chosen to bring in some elements from the comics that are, thus far, super intriguing. My interest is piqued!
Falling to Fly by FluffyGlitterPantsDragon ( @fluffydragon84 )
~23000 words
This fic! I have yet to see a more gripping, thoughtful, atmospheric examination of the S3E24 aftermath -- this story delves into the forensics of the crime scene, and the FBI investigation into Cain’s murder. NOTE: This fic is Lucifer/Dan as the primary ship, so exclusive Deckerstar fans beware, but even if Lucifer/Dan isn’t really your jam, I highly recommend this story for the main plot elements alone. Sincerely, read this. It’s worth it.
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Author Spotlight: @shmazarov/ lazarov
Every week we interview a writer from The Magicians fandom. If you would like to be interviewed or you want to nominate a writer, get in touch via our ask box.
First things first, tell us a little about yourself.
I'm in my late 20s, Canadian. I've spent more of my life writing fic than not, and tend to flit around from fandom to fandom.
How long have you been writing for?
The oldest fic on my semi-defunct ff.net account dates back to 2006 - so at least 13 years, although I posted plenty of misguided LiveJournal fanfiction long before that.
What inspired you to start writing for The Magicians?
I was originally a book fan, although when the books were coming out there wasn't much of an online fandom. Truth be told, it took me a long time to warm up to the show - but once I did, I found that the TV versions of the characters inspired a lot of fic ideas.
Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? What it is about them that makes them your favourite?
Quentin! Always. I really enjoy the way his jumbled, speedy thought patterns and self-consciousness translate into the way he speaks, and I think it's fascinating to explore the ways in which he subverts the White Male Hero trope by never quite managing to be the hero in his (or anyone's) story. Quentin Coldwater is deeply misunderstood and I would fight a bear for him.
Do you have a preference for a particular season/point in time to write about?
Not really, except for being fond of the Mosaic timeline (because I am human). Otherwise, I usually write as if canon is an inconvenience.
Are you working on anything right now? Care to give us an idea about it?
For the Magicians fandom, I am slowly picking away at a multi-part Queliot angst fic that is dear to my heart as well as something new, current-season oriented and (surprisingly) canon-compliant. Who knew I had it in me? For other fandoms, I am perpetually working on a Daredevil fic that is well over 60,000 words and has been ongoing since 2015. It is my white whale. I also, naturally, have not even gotten around to watching the newest season of Daredevil in keeping with my tradition of treating canon as more of a suggestion than an imperative.
How long is your “to do list”?
Not that long! My to do list is limited strictly to the stuff I'm actively working on right now. I have dozens of little prompts-to-self saved in my Google Docs drive, but I tend to write them and tuck them away, forgetting them until I can rediscover them with fresh eyes. I never think of them as "to dos" so much as "maybe somedays."
What is your favourite fic that you’ve written for The Magicians? Why?
I love Other People very much.
Many writers have a fic that they are passionate about that doesn’t get the reception from the fandom that they hoped for. Do you have a fic you would like more people to read and appreciate?
It never surprises me when things I write don't get much traction, because I have a tendency to write niche tropes or stuff that I personally want to read! However - I do think One and the Same is good and affecting and has kind of snuck under the radar. I like that one, and I'm going to keep adding to it (because I like it so much and because, as above, I am a sucker for the Mosaic timeline).
What is your writing process like? Do you have any traditions or superstitions that you like to stick to when you’re writing?
My writing process is GARBAGE! It's garbage. I am needy, and lazy, and terrible at self-motivating. I'm disorganized and hard on myself. I almost never have the help of betas, because I feel a silly but overwhelming sense of guilt asking people for help. With that said, I am always extremely proud of myself for Doing the Damn Thing when I do write.
My personal weird thing is writing on my computer, then always doing my edit read-throughs on my phone. Something about the smaller screen and different font focuses my brain and helps me read my own writing more objectively. I also tend to pick a song, or an album, to listen to on repeat every time I work on a fic or a chapter of. It focuses my scattered brain and helps me write toward a specific mood.
Do you write while the seasons are airing or do you prefer to wait for hiatus? How does the ongoing development of the canon influence and inspire your writing process?
I love writing during seasons because it means people are READING. The spike in feedback that happens during seasons is incredible and so gratifying. Plus, I'm desperate for attention at all times and want those comments and kudos like Mardi Gras beads, obviously. Canon, as always, is optional. Especially in this fandom! Who needs fandom when you have timelines?
What has been the most challenging fic for you to write?
In the Magicians fandom, the most recent chapter of Stories We Tell kicked my ass. I am always trying to improve my visualization and descriptive imagery, and that was a real test for me. I'm not great at it yet, but I'm glad I challenged myself with that one and look forward to doing it even more.
Are there any themes or tropes that you like particularly like to explore in your writing?
So much angst. Sorry guys, it's free therapy? I can get self-conscious about the fact that I barely ever write fluff, but I have a really hard time getting inspired by anything other than misery.
Somebody's gotta do it.
Are there any writers that inspire your work? Fanfiction or otherwise?
Fanfiction : @greywash, obviously @sashayed and Lady Jaida are like, the pinnacle??? of fic writing, @longnationalnightmare, @afterism, @refusals... there are so many.
What are you currently reading? Fanfiction or otherwise?
I haven't had time to read or keep up with much fic lately, but semi-recent greats include colour all the squares by @afterism and spring sooner than the lark by @greywash!
What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given?
"Your writing is incomprehensible." - a TA who gave me an extremely sub-par mark and made me realize that sometimes people are just going to hate your writing, and that's ok.
"When you write a story, you're telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story." - that one is Stephen King, but I would like to pretend it was advice given to me, because I cherish it.
Are there any words or phrases you worry about overusing in your work?
I can't think of any offhand, but I would pay someone to hit me with a rigid stick every time I use a cliche in my writing.
What was the first fanfic that you wrote? Do you still have access to it?
I have vague memories of terrible The 10th Kingdom fanfiction. It doesn't exist anymore, sadly/thankfully - but now I am feeling nostalgic and digging through the old 10th Kingdom Angelfire archive, right this second. Be still my heart.
Rapidfire Round!
Self-edit or Beta?
Self-edit, because I am too shy and full of shame to ask for help. It's not a virtue.
Comments or Kudos/Reblogs or Likes?
COMMENTS. Comments are the thing that bring me more joy than, well, many other things that probably should give me a lot of joy. Comments keep my heart full.
Smut, Fluff or Angst?
As if it's even a competition -- ANGST. Always angst. Angst always.
Quick & Dirty or Slow Burn?
Slow burn. Particularly involving difficult and meandering conversations and shrouded looks.
Favourite Season?
Season One
Favourite Epiosde?
I truly cannot decide.
Favourite Book?
The Magicians Land
Three favourite words?
softly / petrichor / idyllic
Want to be interviewed for our author spotlight? Get in touch here.
#The Magicians#the magicians rec center#author spotlight#author: lazarov#author spotlight: lazarov#fanfiction
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Enslaved (Part 7 & 8)
Title: Enslaved
Author: Pikaboubou
Rating: E
Word Count: LOL 86,775
Summary: AU; Suna succeeded in the Konoha Crush, enslaving their people. Years later Sakura is forced into the care of the man who destroyed her village, and is surprised by what she finds in him. Gaara, on the other hand, is interested in becoming more… ‘social’.
Warnings: sexual assault, abuse, stockholm syndrome, graphic sexual content, murder, torture, physical abuse, verbal abuse, foul language.
Author’s Note(s): Both Sakura POV and Gaara POV. Despite the warnings this is actually not as a dark as it sounds, and does in fact have some comedy and romance. There’s some OOC moments, but hey, its fanfiction. (Also have plans for a sequel if well received)
(Additional note: Mild dub-con elements in the early section but not a dark story. If you don’t like dark Gaara you may still like this.👍😊💕)
[Due to the size (and 10 parts) this story has been merged into 5 parts/posts.]
Prompt chosen: AU, War
Partner: saku-harem
Part 7
The next few days were ridiculous.
Sakura would sleep in his room at night, and when Gaara would leave someone would fetch her to bring her back to that strange bedroom. She would be forced to change into some sort of ridiculous harem attire, and made to sit in one spot for him to return.
Now he was just beginning to expect it, and would immediately come up to 'her room' to bring her back down into his. It was exhausting, and she made sure to complain about it every single day.
Today seemed like she would be going into the same ridiculous routine, leaving her to groan as the door to his room opened.
"Oooh don't you people ever give up?! He doesn't want me staying up there!!" Sakura turned away from the window to stare down whoever was taking her away today, but ended up blinking in surprise.
"Sakura Haruno, yes?" The blonde kunoichi waltzed in like she owned the place, well she technically did. "I require your company today."
Immediately the pinkette flushed, thinking that this beautiful woman, who also happened to be Gaara's sister, desired her for darker reasons.
"What for?" Sakura asked before wringing her hands.
"I'll be prepping you for tonight's festivities." Temari answered, beckoning her to follow as she exited the room. The pinkette rushed to follow after the blonde, wearing only her casual red dress with black shorts. Outside the room she hurriedly slipped on her shoes, and scurried to keep up.
Temari walked at a fast pace, that was for certain. Within a matter of minutes they were already walking down the city streets.
They rounded a corner, surprising Sakura when they were at an entrance to a hidden spa.
"Alright, hurry in. We need you to look classy if you're going to be on Gaara's arm." The blonde pushed at her back, and almost immediately upon entry the women in the shop set to work.
The pinkette was tugged this way and that, her only moments of rest was a mud bath and a relaxing facial. Other than that they roughly exfoliated her skin, put weird things in her hair like mud and oils repeatedly washing and drying her. It was a strange phenomena that she never wished to experience again. They plucked her brows, exfoliated her lips, cleaned her nails, scrubbed her hands and feet with harsh pumice stones, applied paraffin waxes, oils, lotions, potions; you name it and it was done to her.
By the time they applied her small amount of makeup she was exhausted. Temari seemed to be going through similar treatments, but handled it with the grace of a pedigree cat. Sakura was amazed by this woman's resilience.
"So, my brother, what all have you two done together?" The blonde didn't even bother looking at her as she asked the shameless question. The pinkette stumbled for a moment, wincing as her hair was yanked back into an elegant twisted hairstyle.
"I don't kiss and tell--"
"Ah, so you have kissed him. I'm surprised he hasn't killed you yet." Temari was cruel, but Sakura was certain it was merely a defensive act. Something told her that this woman was actually kind.
"He says he likes me enough that he'll protect me like he protects himself. I think that spells out how he feels." The pinkette could play this game, she grew up with Ino after all. It seemed to get the blonde's attention rather quickly.
"If you think you can tame him then think again. Gaara is ruthless--"
"You obviously don’t know him well, because I have experienced a gentleness from him that no other man has ever shown me." Sakura knew that this woman would not hesitate to beat the crap out of her if she felt like it. However, she merely smirked at the pinkette's boldness.
"Sounds like you like him, that's surprising too. Most women are scared shitless of him." The blonde gave a small laugh, completely at peace with the woman behind her yanking her hair into a high spikey bun.
"I'm not most women. I don't fear pain, and I don't fear death. Only humiliation." Sakura brought her eyes forward, and her words seemed to silence the powerful kunoichi sitting next to her.
Once they were finished the were given robes to walk back in, what they were going to do with her clothes she didn't know, Suna was a strange place.
Temari walked side by side with her up the stairs, but when the pinkette went to keep going the blonde yanked her back.
"My room, I have some things for you." Without even the opportunity to argue Sakura was pulled by the wrist into the blonde's elegant bedroom. It was very classy, draped in many fine purple silks and decorated with fans that the pinkette knew had to double as weapons.
Temari disappeared into her closet then came back out with a box of powder, and a velvet box that Sakura could only assume was some sort of jewelry.
"Perfumed powder mixed with diamond dust, it's extremely expensive so don't spill it. Also, this is one of my best bracelets, I hope it will go with whatever the hell you're wearing tonight." The blonde tried to sound tough, but it was obvious that she seemed to be enjoying this a bit too much. The pinkette nodded in thanks while taking the trinkets. "Kankuro brought Gaara with him to pick out corsages, yes this is a very elegant engagement. The annual Suna banquet celebrates the history of our people, and schmoozing up political officials. Don't fuck this up, keep your mouth shut, and just look pretty. That shouldn't be hard for you."
The sneaky compliment Temari threw in did not go unnoticed, and earned a smirk from Sakura.
"I'm a smart girl, I can blend." The pinkette snickered, and surprisingly the blonde laughed a bit before shooing her out of the room.
Now it was time for Sakura to prepare herself for probably one of the strangest nights of her life.
--- ... --- ...
The elegant black and nude dress was on, the black heels with ankle straps being slipped into. She had dusted her collarbone and shoulders with the perfumed sparkling dust, and it made her skin look shimmery, like she didn't belong on this plain. She reddened her lips a bit more, but just enough to look bitten. A wide crystal choker was placed high on her long neck, and the bracelet, which luckily was a diamond one, matched rather well with her choker.
Last but not least she placed a crystal pin in her hair in the shape of a cherry blossom. It went well with the elegant hairstyle. With her bangs brushed to the side she nodded at her appearance. This was probably the most beautiful she would ever look in her life.
She chose not to wear a bra underneath from how skin tight the dress was, and her underwear was the lacey kind that left no indentations. Her whole form looked sleek and fluid, elegant and sexy.
She wandered back out into Gaara's bedroom, not expecting him to be there. When she heard a light sound, like someone opening their mouth to speak she turned her head to see who it was. The redhead was wearing that nice cream suit she had seen in his closet the other day with a sharp red shirt underneath, and a white tie. He seemed completely dumbstruck.
"Cat caught your tongue?" Sakura straightened before jutting out her hip seductively.
Gaara was dumbfounded for a moment, but then quickly shook himself out of his daze. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he practically slammed the door behind him making her jump.
"Woah, I was just teasing--"
"We're not going." He huffed as he tried to roughly take off his tie, blinking in confusion she closed the distance between them.
"Why? Is something wrong?" The pinkette tried peering into his eyes, but he refused to look at her.
'That's strange...' She studied him, but couldn't find an answer to his strange behavior. Finally he gave an exasperated sigh.
"I don't want anyone seeing you like this--"
"-Oh for heavens sake, Gaara! If you hated the dress why did you agree to buy it?!" When he wouldn't answer she grew frustrated, ripping the tie out of his hands to synch it back up to his neck, then she pulled him by said tie to lean forward. "We are going."
"No, we are not! I can't have every man lusting over you! I'll end up killing everyone in the fucking room!" The redhead sounded legitimately stressed about it, as if what he was saying was the truth. "Those men imagining you in disgusting ways... I can't--!"
"Let them imagine it then, I'm not going home with any of them." Sakura tried not to snicker about it, but her smile still peaked through. She undid his tie finding it had gotten too messed up, and began remaking it.
"Sure, walk around like that. Let every man eye-fuck you while I watch!" Gaara hissed, and as his voice started to rise she hushed him gently back into a calm state.
"Yes, but I'll be on your arm. You'll have the prettiest girl while they have the mediocre ones." She wasn't trying to flatter herself, rather she was trying to make a point that he could show her off, and revel in their jealousy. "Even if I'm wearing rags there will still be men who will desire me just because I'm female. There is no getting around that--"
"If anyone looks at you wrong I will kill them." The redhead huffed stubbornly making her smack at his chest.
"You will not! What is it going to take for you to be okay with this? Do I have to get on my knees, and beg you or something?" The pinkette gave an exasperated sigh before tightening up his tie. She glanced up to see him looking off to the side, trying avidly to avoid her gaze. "Well?!"
"Or something... could you elaborate?" Gaara murmured softly, awkwardly clearing his throat before staring off in a different direction. She blinked at him in disbelief.
Was he trying to get something perverted out of this?! Was she going to have to bargain with him?! She almost couldn't believe it.
Almost being the key word here. She knew that he had that side in him, he just hadn’t utilized it until she had came into his life.
'Fine.' She mused to herself before letting out a sigh of resignation.
"Well, it could be one something... or a few different somethings. Maybe I could let you choose one 'something' you'd like, but you have to show me that you can be a gentleman tonight." She smirked, knowing full well that his mind would probably be racing with possibilities. He licked his lips for a moment before looking down.
"I get to choose?" The redhead spoke shyly above a whisper, it was adorable.
"As long as it's not full penetration, then sure. Whatever you want." His eyes widened at that, and she moved in to swiftly kiss him on the cheek. She teasingly slipped past him, not failing to notice how quickly he turned to follow her as she made her way to the exit.
In a split second he was there, opening the door with the fiercest blush she had ever seen on him. Before she could step through it, however, he shoved something towards her.
It was a corsage of pink roses that matched the color of her hair. She outstretched her one bare wrist, and he tied it down with a stern expression. Once again, he was acting too innocent for his own good.
"It's beautiful, thank you." She admired the flowers attached to her wrist with a smile. He nodded quickly before gently ushering her out of the room.
--- ... --- ...
"I hate these things." Gaara huffed bitterly, walking steadily with her arm linked in his. She gave a small giggle at his expense.
"Don't forget about what we talked about. I want you on your best behavior if you want to get that 'something' tonight." Sakura smirked as she felt him tense under his jacket. They just rounded the corner when they came face to face with the legendary puppet master.
"Oh ho! Did my ears really just hear that--?"
"Shut up, Kankuro." The redhead narrowed his eyes threateningly, forcing the puppet master's smile to disappear.
"Gaara, knock it off." The pinkette warned before turning to Kankuro. "You look nice this evening."
"Heh, in comparison to you I look like road kill--"
Gaara started to growl, receiving a smack to the chest once more from his date.
"Do that again and you get nothing." Sakura glared at him, and while he tried glaring back at her his anger eventually waned.
"Two 'somethings', or no deal." The redhead put it out there so blatantly that it was obvious what he was bargaining for. At first she gaped at him in disbelief, but then finally narrowed her eyes.
"I get to pick the second 'something'--"
"No, I get to choose both--"
"Quit being greedy, you get what you get or you can have nothing. We can turn around right now, and I'll sleep upstairs. Alone." The pinkette was a ruthless haggler, and his eyes blinked in shock over how she was willing not only to deny him 'something' but also take even more away. She was certain that he hadn't taken that into consideration.
"Wow, Gaara, you should take the deal." Kankuro looked between them with interest while the redhead continued to glare daggers at her.
"Three 'somethings', and you can choose two." A small smirk started to form on his mouth, and finally she began to feel relief over the fact that he was becoming playful.
"Deal. Be sure to grab a drink while we're there cause it's going to be a rough night for you." Sakura gave him a teasing smile that had him looking off to the side.
"Likewise." Gaara grinned then, and that's when she was pretty sure she had just sold her soul to the devil.
"So, Sakura... do you have a sister--?"
"The closest thing I have to a sister is already a part of your harem. Try bantering with Ino, she's just as bad if not worse--"
"Really, billboard brow?!" Speak of the devil and she shall appear, Ino walked up with Temari before slipping her arm through Kankuro's. She wore a rather scandalous purple dress that was quite strappy all over.
Sakura couldn't believe it, she never thought that she would see her best friend again, let alone tonight of all nights. The smile that stretched across her face made her cheeks hurt pleasantly.
"Ino-pig!!" The pinkette detached herself from the redhead to throw herself at her best friend. They hugged it out so tightly that the rest of the group didn't know how to feel about it. "I missed you so much!!"
"You too!! Are you okay?! I thought they were going to kill you!" The blonde ran her fingers down her best friend's cheek, checking her over for any marks. Sakura felt a tidal wave of emotion begin to rush through her, but pushed it down in the sake of professionalism.
"I'm fine. They threw me in with this broody fellow over here, and he's actually a huge sweetheart don't let his glare fool you--"
"Sakura." Gaara warned, and it made her giggle for some reason.
"Ooo, yeah you can have the violent ones. I got the goofball--"
"H-hey!" Kankuro huffed at the girls as they erupted into a fanfare of giggles. Suddenly the two best friends linked arms to continue down that hallway, Temari seemed to say nothing about what was happening, but her smirk let on that she was amused.
Gaara growled for a bit as he followed behind them, but Sakura decided to not pay much attention to it. Instead the two girls clucked away over what they had been doing over the past few weeks. When it came to something nitty gritty they would begin whispering to each other, looking back at their dates, then break out into giggles.
The redhead growled a bit louder--
"Hey man, I get that its irritating, but look at it this way. They are two very beautiful girls practically smooshed together, it just takes a little bit of imagination and then--"
"Are you kidding me?!" Ino whipped around to poke Kankuro in the chest. "We don't do that perverted stuff, get your head out of the gutter!"
The redhead blinked owlishly, before noticing that Sakura was slipping her arm back into his. She knew Kankuro originally wanted her to be a part of her harem, now she wondered just what he would have done with her had she actually went along with the other girls.
"Well, now I know what your brother is into." The pinkette gave a scoff before urging the redhead to go forward down the hall. She could hear Ino chewing Kankuro out even as they turned another corner to go down a flight of stairs. It seemed she didn't have to worry about Ino at all, she obviously had the man wrapped around her finger.
‘She seems happy too, I’m glad.’
"What is my brother into, exactly--?"
"I really shouldn't have to spell it out, but I can be nice just this once. Lesbians." She tried to remain serious, but as his face distorted at the thought she nearly snorted with laughter.
"I don't understand. If women only have love for each other, and none for a man, then why would that be attractive? It makes no sense, the man would get nothing out of it." Gaara's naked brows furrowed in confusion as he tried thinking it over.
"I don't know, what would you do if I decided to just go over there and make out with Ino--?"
"I would kill her." His tone was practically murderous, and yet she had to stifle a laugh.
"What if I asked you to join?" Sakura smirked when he went completely silent. His lips formed a thin line while his brow continued to furrow. "Does it make sense now?"
"...I'm not really sure." The redhead tried to focus on something, his knuckle coming up to his mouth to bite at it in deep concentration. He was always so cute when he couldn't quite understand something.
"Have Kankuro explain it then--"
"Explain what now?" The puppet master had jogged to catch back up to them, leaving his enraged date in the dust.
"Gaara needs a crash course on the birds and the bees, especially between women--"
"I do not!! I understand it well enough!! I just don't care!!" Gaara hissed at the both of them, where Kankuro grew a bit nervous the pinkette busted out into laughter.
"Oh whatever! You're such a liar!" She snickered under her hand, watching him just about boil over.
"Does it work both ways?!" The redhead fumed while stopping dead in his tracks. She blinked at him for a moment as it caught her off guard.
"I'm not following--"
"Do women enjoy seeing two men together?! It's not that hard to understand--!"
"Um... I can't really say for myself but some women like it." Sakura bristled when he stepped closer. His haunting eyes had her mind stolen, hypnotized by the darkness that surrounded the ghostly opaque color.
"I want to know what you think about it." Gaara spoke in a low tone, making her hairs stand on edge. Why was he suddenly so interested in this topic?
"I've never seen anything like that, how should I know?!" The pinkette snapped, and surprisingly he straightened with a calm expression setting her at ease.
"Let's find out." The redhead said matter-o-factly. She stared at him incredulously, wondering just what the hell he was talking about--
Then he did the most strangest thing. He leaned over, and kissed his own brother on the mouth. It wasn't a truly intimate kiss, but it was longer than a peck and it was enough to make her shriek.
"GAARA!! What the hell are you doing!?!" Sakura quickly yanked him back towards her, forcing him to break contact with his utterly stunned brother.
"Well? Did it do anything--?"
"Did it do anything?!?! YOU JUST KISSED YOUR BROTHER!!" The pinkette screamed at him, and Kankuro immediately stepped in to try and save the day.
"Hey now! It's okay! No harm done! It's not like we're jacking each other off--"
"Oh my god NO!!" Sakura slammed her hands over her ears before storming away from the two. She chanted gibberish to herself to try and get the image out of her mind.
It took a few minutes to get her head back in the game after that fiasco.
--- ... --- ... ---
"I said I was sorry." Gaara murmured softly to her as they waited to be announced. Apparently everyone needed to be announced before entering the banquet, and she was already on edge from his shenanigans earlier. "I don't see what the issue is, though. It's not like he's female--"
"It's still incest, Gaara. Please don't defend things like that." Sakura groaned, but then stiffened when she heard him chuckle.
"Your face was priceless." The redhead broke out into a genuine grin, taking her breath away with how handsome he was when he smiled.
It was then that the doors opened, and whoever was paying attention on the other side got a good view of his wonderful smile before he quickly turned to stone. With a hardened expression he walked forward, a crowd of well dressed people started clapping from the get go, but then it quickly died down into a strange wave of whispering. He rose a hairless brow at the odd situation.
"That's the first time that's happened." Gaara murmured while he looked around himself curiously, then walked her towards a large table meant for the guests of honor.
"Why are they doing that?" The pinkette looked around too, noticing many eyes were staring at them.
"I've never brought a date to any function. I assume they think I must have snapped or something--"
"Or 'something' indeed." Sakura teased, and got a suggestive glance for her effort.
"Don't tempt me, I will make a scene." His eyes shamelessly sized her up before pulling out her chair. Even though he was teasing her back, the redhead still managed to play a gentlemanly card.
"That sounds like fun, let's get kicked out for fooling around on the buffet table." The pinkette laughed before sitting in her spot. He took a seat next to her, and funnily enough Kankuro was sitting on his other side. They were the last to be announced, thus the last to take their seats.
"Or we could give them all a real heart attack, right now." He gave her a devilish grin that made her wither.
"Please don't kiss your brother again, I swear to god--"
Gaara leaned in quickly, capturing her jawline in his hands before placing a soft kiss on her lips. Before she could say anything a hushed silence fell on the crowd of people in the room, and someone somewhere dropped a glass that happened to shatter loudly.
Kankuro snickered behind his hand, and it was irksome enough for Gaara to pull away to glare at him.
"Why are you laughing?" Even though the redhead was trying his best to be intimidating the puppet master couldn't contain his giggles.
"You didn't wipe your mouth first. She just got an indirect kiss from me-- OW!!" Kankuro winced as he recieved a hard punch to the shoulder. "Hey man, it was a joke!"
"Not a funny one, you should work on your punchlines." At first it sounded like a normal response, but when Sakura looked deeper into it she nearly squealed. The two boys looked at her suspiciously before she broke out into giggles.
"You made a pun! 'Punch' lines! Get it?" The pinkette clapped her hands giddily, enjoying the fact that sometimes the redhead could act like a normal person. It wasn't long before Kankuro started chuckling too, yet all they could get out of Gaara was a smirk.
The night started off strangely, what with everyone freaking out and staring at them, but then a few boring speeches were made. Certain council members gave these droll monologues that made not only her yawn, but Gaara too. She was beginning to understand why he hated these things.
Next there was dinner, and it was very delicious with several of Suna's signature dishes. Gaara got his own plate of what looked like a cooked tongue. She shivered at the thought, but he seemed to be excited about it. She happily had the chicken.
Desert was surprisingly cake with ice cream, and while she giggled at the thought of a children's birthday party the rest of the table raised their brows at her. Except Ino, she knew why it was funny.
All that was left was essentially drinking, and dancing. A few men had actually come up to ask her for a dance, but had left with their tails between their legs when Gaara would answer for her; in his most threatening tone possible.
They stood there, wine in hand, watching everyone else twirl on the floor. She sighed wishing she could do the same.
"What's wrong?" The redhead queried, leaning against the wall looking like a complete punk with a bad attitude.
"I want to dance." The pinkette huffed before giving him a pair of classic puppy eyes. His face actually started to look like his heart was breaking a little bit.
"I don't know how." He flushed lightly at his admission, and she gave him a sympathetic smile.
"I see..." Sakura stared back out at the crowd, watching them twirl to the beat of the music.
"Wait here." Gaara suddenly walked past her, leaving her alone on the wall. He left the room completely, which worried her a little bit.
"Well, I guess I'll just stand here--"
"I'm shocked that Lord Gaara has brought such a beautiful flower with him tonight, one that should be dancing rather than standing against the wall." One of the younger council members, still in his mid thirties however, approached her while holding out his hand to shake.
"Hojo, it's a pleasure, miss?" He waited for her to respond, and finally she kicked into gear.
"Sakura." The pinkette smiled handing him her hand, to which he surprisingly kissed the top rather than shaking it. It made her instantly nervous.
"Lord Gaara must be smitten with you--"
"Yes, he really is." Sakura decided to press that point, hoping that this man would back off. Yet his eyes drank in her appearance in a way that she would deem as inappropriate.
"You're not native, I see. It shows in your hair." Hojo grinned, his dark locks swaying into his eyes. Something about this man made her uneasy, and it wasn't just the perverted way he looked at her. She had met many perverts that she still felt comfortable around.
This man, Hojo, was clearly a cunning person who killed with slow acting poisons rather than with knives.
"I'm from Konoha." She finally answered truthfully, and got a strange expression in return.
"Oh, I see. That's why he likes you." The councilman's face cracked with a dark laugh making every hair raise on her body in alert. "Makes perfect sense why you were able to tame him--"
"Caring for one another does not make us a beast, and tamer. You would do well to watch what you say, and not just because I'm Gaara's date either." The pinkette threatened, letting him know that she could be just as dangerous as some of the other ninja here. However, she merely received another laugh discrediting her.
"Konoha women, so spirited. In more ways than one--" He went to stroke her hand, but was quickly intercepted by a very protective big brother.
'Oh thank god--'
"If you don't want to die tonight you'll back off, do you understand? Gaara will kill you if he sees you touching her." Kankuro grabbed Hojo's arm, and the man wiggled his fingers in surrender. Like this was just a game to him.
"I'm merely playing, I wouldn't dream of touching the jinchuriki's concubine-- er sorry, forgive me, his 'mate'." The middle age man sized her up before turning away to talk to other guests. A few people were watching curiously, probably wondering what the hostility was about.
"Fucking bastard." Kankuro nearly spat, but Sakura shook her head.
"Don't tell Gaara about this, it will ruin his night." The pinkette looked back out onto the floor wondering where he had even gone off to. In a matter of seconds of him leaving she had become shark bait.
They were already trying to use her to get to Gaara, it disgusted her.
"It's no problem, I just know if Gaara starts a fight it'll be really bad. Not only for him, but for you as well. Sometimes he just rushes in just because he knows he can, and that he is strong enough to get away with murder... literally--" Kankuro looked pale at the thought, but she really couldn't blame him after having to deal with the redhead's odd behaviors. In the beginning he was a ranting lunatic, but he seemed to have mellowed out since she started giving him the attention he needed.
It made her smile, knowing that she could make a huge difference for someone.
"Back, let's go." Out of nowhere Gaara appeared, not stopping as he made a beeline for the dance floor snatching up her arm on the way there. She stumbled after him, trying to balance on her heels as he forced her to powerwalk.
"Gaara, where did you go?" Sakura asked, but was quickly distracted when they got to the dance floor. He turned abruptly attempting to put his hands on her, but instead furrowed his brow in thought. "Start with the waist, we can just sway if you want."
"Rrrright." The redhead's speech sounded off, something wasn't right here, but he managed to put his hands on her waist... then let them slip down to her hips. She gave an exasperated sigh, wrapping her arms around his neck.
That's when she smelled just a hint of alcohol--
"Oh no, you didn't do what I think you did, did you?" The pinkette suddenly felt extremely worried, she had no clue what kind of drunk he was, and now she was stuck in a very precarious situation.
"Ha! That's a weird sentence!" The redhead gave her a funny kind of smile, and her point was proven.
"Oh my god, oh no. Oh nooo--" Sakura started to panic.
"Whassup?" Gaara tried tilting his head to see her more clearly... even though they were literally inches away from each other.
"What kind of drunk are you? Happy? Sad? Murderous?" The pinkette bit her lip in concern, watching him tilt his head to the other side.
"I dunno... never drank like this soooo, guess we'll find out!" The redhead laughed genuinely, practically like a normal person. He seemed relaxed, casual, but still a bit drunk.
Okay, maybe this could turn out for the better. He could seem more sociable--
"Heeey... did I tell you that you're really gorgeous?" While Gaara had attempted a whisper it was still loud enough for a few couples to hear. Sakura almost grimaced, but stopped herself as she knew that he was honestly trying to compliment her. She forced a small laugh for his comfort.
"You're not so bad yourself. You clean up nice--"
"Woah now! I know you want my body, but we should take things slooow." The redhead snickered before growing a bit more ballsy, and started to nearly waltz. She kept up with him, but still kept her eyes sharp watching for sharks in the water.
"Yes, you know me so well." Sakura rolled her eyes, but still carried a smile for him. She was surprised at how well he could dance now.
"I do! I know you better than anybody--"
"Oh really?" She played into his game, getting the biggest grin she had ever seen on his face.
"Yup, I know what you look like naked--"
"SSH! Gaara!" Although she smacked his chest she couldn't help but snort at his comment. With a laugh he twirled her outward, then pulled her back into his embrace rather hypnotically. It made her dizzy for many reasons.
"Good thing we already did stuff cause you're in trouble, pretty lady." He was clearly teasing at first, but then his eyes truly focused on her. "You're in a lot of trouble... big trouble..."
"Are you playing the hero then? Am I the damsel in distress?" With another giggle the pinkette was spun outward, then with greater force pulled back in. His eye's were so focused on her own that it seemed like he was thinking they were alone in this room full of people.
"Not a hero... I want to be the villain." Gaara purred softly, and as she blinked owlishly at him he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'll tie you up... and make you scream for mercy..."
Her heart started pounding wildly, her cheeks inflamed at the thought.
Sakura thought of pushing away, thinking that perhaps someone might have heard him say that to her, but everyone just continued dancing like nothing happened.
"Eeeh... you're blushing. Hehe..." Gaara snickered, and for his boyish behavior she smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "I don't want that expression to go away."
"Since when did you become such a pervert--?"
"That day when we were running and you got attacked, I licked a cut on your leg... and you blushed just like this-" His hand came up to trace his thumb over her cheekbone, the action made her tremble. "-I want to do that tonight--"
"Gaara, stop saying things like that in public." She tried to warn him, but it only made him grin devilishly.
"Why? Afraid someone might hear me? Hear about how I'm going to strip you down later--?"
"Gaara!" Sakura hissed at him, and he raised a devious brow at her. He went to speak, but she immediately hushed him. "Say one more word about it, and I will start taking back the 'somethings'."
He blinked at that, and then surprisingly gave a bitter expression.
"Fine. Take them. I don't care--" The redhead huffed stubbornly, she almost couldn't believe the instant change.
"Really? You're going to throw a fit right here?" The pinkette groaned with frustration, and then pulled away from him.
"Hello, may I cut in?" A different council member approached them with enough balls to ask Sakura for a dance. While she was prepared for Gaara to tell the man 'no' he actually continued to glare at her.
"I don't care anymore. Dance with her, she enjoys being a people pleaser--"
"Gaara!" The pinkette blinked at him in disbelief, and he merely shrugged.
"I'll see you later, I'm going for a walk." The redhead turned his back on her quickly, and her stomach dropped. The older man grinned expectantly at her, holding his arms out for a dance. She turned to call out for Gaara but he was already gone in a cloud of sand.
She was alone... stuck with the wolves while she was nothing but a lamb to them.
Sakura moved in to dance, trying to play off confidence as this older man spun her around like a rag doll.
"Hojo told me good things about you, I just had to see for myself--"
"Did he now?" The pinkette went apathetic, acting as if that man didn't scare her.
"He did, you're an ex-leaf kunoichi aren't you? You certainly are high strung like one--" The older man was despicable straight out of the gate, and it took everything in her power not to stamp on his feet.
"I wouldn't say 'high strung', we just know our worth." Sakura hissed bitterly as she glared daggers at the man, his smile turned into a evil smirk.
"Yes. Now that's a look I wouldn't mind changing. When Gaara is finally through with your outrageous antics I'll have the guards send you my way. I know just what to do with that pouting mouth of yours, leaf slut." The councilman chuckled darkly, and she balked at his disgusting behavior. Not being able to stand it any longer she tried breaking free of his grasp, but he held on rather tightly. "Don't make a scene, my dear. It will reflect badly on your owner--"
"Get your fucking hands off of me!" The pinkette spat venomously at him, but it only made him laugh more.
She felt trapped in more ways then one. She needed to get away from these people. This was turning out to be a very frightening evening.
"You know what? I think a few of my colleagues would enjoy your company as well, you obviously must have some sort of 'charms' going for you, otherwise Lord Gaara would never keep one of your kind--"
"For the second time today I have to tell one of you assholes to get the hell away from Sakura." Kankuro appeared at her side, gripping at the councilman's shoulder with hands itching to kill. She had never felt so relieved in her life, in fact she instantaneously thanked him for it. The older man narrowed his eyes, clearly offended.
"I'm not done with her--"
"Not your choice, you gross old lech. I overheard what you fucking said. You're a nasty old pervert, and you should be ashamed of yourself." The puppet master gave the councilman a hard shove, getting complete disbelief out of the man.
"How dare you, Kankuro!? Dishonoring your village for some worthless leaf whore--!!"
The crack that resounded around the room was loud, and sickly, but it made the pinkette so happy she could cry for joy. Kankuro hit the older man so hard that she was almost one hundred percent certain she heard his jaw break. The councilman dropped so fast that he looked like a sack of meat falling to the floor, and Kankuro was practically steaming he was so pissed.
Alright, the puppet master definitely deserved an award for best gentleman of the night.
"Kankuro!? What are you doing!?!" Temari stormed over to her brother, and opened her mouth to scold him up and down. He stopped her before she could even start.
"I'm getting Sakura out of here, that's what I'm fucking doing. No wonder Gaara was pissy about being here tonight, even the council is filled with disgusting old fucks--!"
"Kankuro!" Temari warned, but he shook his head angrily.
"Nope. I'm done. I'm taking her to a safe place. Fuck'em." Kankuro snatched up the pinkette's arm, tugging her after him in a rough way. She stumbled a bit, but she knew he was just urgently wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.
"What about me?!" Ino shouted after him, and he groaned.
"Have Temari bring you back!" The puppet master shouted, and threw open the main doors to the ballroom dramatically as they made their exit.
Her heels were clicking against stone double time in comparison to his dress shoes, his gate was much longer as well so she had to nearly run to keep up.
The halls around the area doubled as walkways around the courtyards, the night air was dry and cool under a bright silver moon. Had she been with someone else, she would have found it romantic.
"Let's stop here for a minute." Kankuro guided her to a stone bench, and practically forced her to sit down. She followed his demands, and rested for the time being. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you--?"
"No! No... it was just unnerving is all. Embarrassing..." Sakura looked out into the night, she was beginning to feel shittier by the second. "I hate this place. No offense, but I hate your people too. They are savages."
Her words were cruel, but at this point she just didn't care anymore. She wished she could just leave.
"We're not all like that, but I can understand why you'd think it. Since we took over Konoha our people have grown cocky. They forget what it was like to be honorable, and instead revel in the fortunes of war." The puppet master sat next to her with his hands on his knees, his fingers tapped away like they had strings attached to them.
"They're misguided, I want to change that. However, the 'council' deems me to be unsuitable for the title of Kazekage. They don't think I'm strong enough, they want someone like Gaara to do it."
"Why won't he?" The pinkette pressed, and the man next to her laughed.
"It's not that he won't, it's just that they don't think he's perfect for the job either. Gaara is violent, selfish, and unmerciful. While he could get us far just by riding his coat tails it would only make for more wars, and he would not hesitate to kill his own people--"
"He's not like that anymore! He's making great changes-!!" Sakura tried arguing, but Kankuro hushed her.
"Do you really believe that? What do you think he does when you're not around, hmm? Do you think he just sits on his ass, eating a lollipop?" The puppet master grew a bit angry over the topic, and she could tell that it had been bothering him for a while. "I bet he's maiming someone right this very second--!"
"Just because he stormed off doesn't mean he's going to kill someone. The only threat I heard from him tonight was that he would kill anyone who came on to me. To be honest you should be happy he left, otherwise he would have killed two council members--"
"He gave you away to one." Kankuro said lowly, and it seemed that he had been there to witness the whole entire exchange.
"Gaara didn't know that those men were going at my throat, and he doesn't need to know either--!" She was about to tear him a new one when low and behold Gaara walked up the steps from the courtyard.
'Uh oh...'
"I just love it when people talk behind my back, especially the ones I favor most." The redhead's eyes were glowing, but with what emotion remained unclear. It were as if he were perfectly calm, laying in wait like a silent panther. Yet there was something off about him.
"You deserve it." The puppet master huffed, and she watched as Gaara's head turned painfully slow in his direction. The moon glinting strangely off his eyes.
"Excuse me--?"
"You heard me, you ignorant bastard." Kankuro looked him dead in the eye without a single trace of fear. The redhead seemed to smirk at this.
"You're not afraid of me." Gaara seemed amused while his brother violently shook his head.
"No, I am done with your bullshit." The puppet master hissed before standing, storming over to him with the intent to harm. Before she knew what she was doing she put herself between them.
"It's not his fault, Kankuro! He didn't know!" Sakura suddenly started to yell, as if it would defend the man behind her more.
"I didn't know what, Sakura?" The redhead's humor left him instantly, chilling the air with his aura while also heating it with the sound of her name. She couldn't open her mouth, she didn't want him to be angry...
"Well, for starters, that guy Hojo cornered her at one point to creep on her. Then when your ass decided to ditch you left her in the hands of that old guy Hebiki, who might I add called her a 'leaf whore'--"
"Kankuro, that's enough!" The pinkette tried putting her hands over his mouth, but Kankuro quickly pushed them away.
"He said that once you were done with her he'd have the guards send her his way, so that him and the rest of the council can do whatever the fuck they want to her--!!"
"ENOUGH!!!" Sakura screamed at him, at first gaining a glare of betrayal from the puppet master, but his face quickly changed when he saw her begin to crack. "I didn't want... I didn't want him to know..."
She quickly tried to conceal a tear by wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, but another just fell forward to replace it.
"I'm going to bed... I don't want to talk about this anymore." The pinkette couldn't look the redhead in the face, she felt so embarrassed over the whole thing. Instead she merely began making her way back to the main building.
The two she left behind began talking normally to each other, and she was grateful that at least her outburst had now kept them from fighting.
--------- …………… ----------- …………..
Gaara hadn't planned for something like this to happen. If anything he actually had high hopes that the night would end well, but of course his rotten luck would have it turn sour.
'Perhaps I really did get bad luck when I broke that mirror--'
"So, are you going to kill them? If you do, you know the rest of the village will be in an uproar." Kankuro spoke, still a bit bitter over the events of the evening.
The redhead couldn't say anything, he was at a loss for words. He had left her all alone with the very men that he knew had it out for her. He was a failure as a mate, and his shame was beginning to make him immobile.
"Are you fucking listening to me--?"
"Yes. I'm sorry." Gaara blurted out before walking dejectedly over to the railing to look out into the night.
His vision was a bit off, still woozy from the alcohol he had snatched from one of the more drunken guests. Luckily for him the alcohol seemed to metabolize fast due to the fact that he was a jinchuriki.
He remembered leaving Sakura in able to go find the 'liquid courage'. No, he had never truly gotten drunk before, but from what alcohol he had in the past he knew that people always thought of him to be friendlier with a drink.
Surprise-surprise, Gaara was a giddy drunk.
At any rate he knew that people did ridiculous things when under the influence, so he thought he would use that to his advantage.
Turns out that he's a bit more than 'happy' with half a bottle of hard liquor. For some reason he turned into a rather forward flirt. He knew he had been hitting on her when he had returned to Sakura's side, but literally half the conversation was a blur.
The redhead did remember her shooting him down, and the bitterness that came with it especially after they had made plans for 'private' activities later. It had left him for a complete loop.
Then he did something extremely stupid, he left her with the very crowd he hated most.
'I'm such an idiot.' Gaara shamed himself with a sigh, noting his brother now was on the approach.
"You said to them that if they disrespected her that you would torture them. To be honest I think you should act on that promise." The puppet master leaned with him against the balcony, looking out at the same night sky. "Teach them a lesson, and then go apologize to Sakura."
Silence fell again at the sound of her name. The redhead felt like burying himself in a hole out of guilt.
"You made her cry--"
"I fucking know that!!" Gaara surprised himself with his own outburst. He had never felt so guilty before, nor had he ever cared about someone else's wellbeing in such a way. His chest was starting to hurt. "Will she feel better... will she smile again?"
The redhead had meant to keep such questions to himself, but he felt that his mind was becoming more and more scattered every day.
"Just go beat those idiots up, and then apologize to her. If she starts turning her attitude around then seize the moment, and do something you know she'll love." Kankuro patted his younger brother on the shoulder, but something about it felt off. He felt tense.
The inkling had been there for a long time. From the first moment the puppet master had mentioned taking her, to him always questioning about her, even tonight with his gallant 'rescue'.
Gaara had heard them, he had been out in the courtyard practically underneath them at the foot on the large staircase.
He had heard his brother's anger, his malice towards the younger for his selfish behavior. However, had it been a different woman the redhead knew that Kankuro would have acted differently. He wouldn't have given a single shit about any other female...
But Sakura... she was special, and he knew that there was a jealousy there that bubbled under the surface.
"You like her, don't you?" Gaara murmured softly, and while he didn't want to know the answer he knew he had to know it anyways.
It went quiet, nothing but the breeze was heard between them for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Kankuro shifted, and cleared his throat.
"She belongs to you, not me--" His older brother dodged the question, making it painfully obvious how he truly felt on the matter.
"I'm not talking about that. Do you love her?" The redhead pressed, and the silence that followed was palpable.
He didn't want to know, but he had to know. She was important to him, as was his own brother. Gaara had never felt so torn in his entire life--
"I don't know her that well to answer such a question, but I'm sure if she had came to me instead of you I would have fallen head over heels... but...." Kankuro gave a pitiful laugh before shaking his head.
"...I may like her, but you love her, so I will only ever further your relationship with her. You don't have to be concerned about me sabotaging anything. You are my brother... I could never do that to you."
Gaara felt his brother's words wash over him, dousing the redhead with a wave of care that awakened him. Kankuro was his brother, and he knew he could trust him regardless of his feelings for the pinkette.
For some reason it felt like so many peaceful doors opened up in his mind. There were so many thoughts... good thoughts.
"I trust you." Gaara murmured, not failing to notice how his older brother tensed up completely.
'I've... never said those words before in my life... he must know this too.'
"Heh, well then I guess I'm going with you to kick some council ass. Someone has got to watch your back!" The puppet master gave a hearty laugh.
Yes, this was an alliance that the redhead had truly needed. For once he felt grateful to have an older brother.
--- ... ---
"I told you all what would happen, yet you chose to ignore my warnings. Why is that?" Gaara purred at Hojo, reveling in the man's fear as he was held captive in a coffin of sand. "It's almost as if you had asked me to kill you outright--"
"NO PLEASE!!" The middle aged man shrieked, squirming in his sand entrapment. It pleased the redhead to no end, the man who had made his mate feel uncomfortable was about to receive that feeling tenfold.
Gaara reared his dominant hand back, and pushed it faster than his sand could follow. He was able to strike the man in the cheekbone with a bare fist, and even though it stung it was just as equally satisfying.
Hojo groaned with confusion, but before he could collect himself the redhead struck again, and again, and again.
The sand was trying to keep up, but wasn't fast enough. Every bare fist connected beautifully as he beat this horrid man in the face--
"Woah woah!" Kankuro stepped in then, grabbing at the pummeling arm to hold it back from laying down another strike. "Hey, I know it's great getting revenge, but if you kill him it'll be your head on the chopping block--"
"Just one more--" Gaara argued, but the puppet master shook his head.
"Gaara... he's already unconscious." The older brother pointed to the limp person within the redhead's sand, and sure enough Hojo was out for the count.
'Damn.' Gaara inwardly cursed, wanting nothing more than to continue punching the guy until he felt better. However, he had to admit that his knuckles were definitely going to bruise after this.
He loosened the sand, and watched as Hojo fell unceremoniously to the ground in a heap.
"Alright, who's next?" The redhead cracked his neck, and then his knuckles before shaking them out.
"Hebiki is unconscious too, remember? I handled that one--"
"Well, I'll just break his legs then..." Gaara snickered for a moment, but his face dropped when he saw a strange look on his brother's features. "What?"
"Dude, it's done. Go take care of your girl." Kankuro frowned for a moment, but then a sly smirk graced his face. "Fine, if you want to go pummel some faces be my guest. I'll go visit Sakura, and make sure she's okay."
"No, you will not." The redhead barked at his brother, getting a snicker in return.
"I specifically remember you telling me how to handle my women, that I needed a firm hand?" The puppet master grinned ear to ear, making the younger brother uneasy. "Well, right now Sakura needs a 'gentle' hand. Maybe a nice massage, and a steamy bubble bath--"
"Is that what you want written on your tombstone?" Gaara glared with every fiber of his being, but didn't expect the bellowing laughter that followed.
"I'm joking! Get a grip, man! I'm not going to fuck your girl, but you need to step up. I've never seen a woman look so god damn stunning, and your standing here looking for a fight rather than doing her proper! You need to get those priorities straight before she finds 'comfort' somewhere else." Kankuro scolded him thoroughly. The redhead went completely dumb, he knew his brother was right, but he was so pissed that he didn't want to admit it.
"Gaara, go find Sakura! Fucking hell--!"
"Alright!!! I'm going!!" Gaara barked ferociously before beginning his trek towards the living quarters. He heard Kankuro shout a few lewd well wishes, but it didn't soften his stomping feet as he moved angrily through the halls.
--- ... --- ... ---
She wasn't in his room, and that was a bad sign.
Gaara thought about leaving her to her own devices for the night, but then again he knew he had to make things right as soon as possible. With a groan he made his way to the harem room, but didn't bother knocking on the door before entering.
The room was empty, but her dress was on the floor. In fact, all of her beautiful items were strewn everywhere, most likely in a fit of anger.
A bubbling sound caught his attention, and he saw that the stone bath had been filled to the brim with hot water. Sakura was at the bottom of the tub, eyes shut tight as she let the air escape from her lungs.
He waited for her to come back up, but then noticed that she seemed to be making it a game to practically drown herself.
He reached in, unceremoniously grabbing her from both sides to yank her to the surface. She jolted, gasping for air as she struck him hard in the chest like an enraged feline.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!!" She screamed with every strike, not bothering to open her eyes.
"Stop acting like a fool, and I will!" Gaara seethed, tightening his grip around her until she finally calmed. He eventually let her go with a sigh, and watched mournfully as she sank back down to shoulder level.
"What do you want? I'm busy--" Her tone was not appreciative.
"Sorry to take you away from your 'drowning', but I want you to know that those men will not approach you again." The redhead huffed stubbornly. She whipped around, wiping her vision of water while looking him over. She seemed almost confused by his appearance.
'She's expecting blood...' He finally guessed.
"I talked to them, isn't that a surprise?"
The pinkette's mouth hung open slightly, completely shocked by his testimony. However, he wasn't being completely honest.
"Alright, I threatened a little bit... well... okay more than threatened--"
"Gaara." Sakura spoke in a warning tone, forcing him to look off to the side shamefully to avoid her judging eyes. "Did you torture them?"
"Torture is a strong word, more like 'physically pressured'..." Gaara broke into a small smile for a moment, but then cleared his throat when he caught her glaring. "I didn't mangle them, and you can blame Kankuro for Hebiki's broken jaw."
She didn't seem amused, and he found himself scrambling.
"Just know that I took care of it, and if it happens again they know full well that I will come to kill them. I made that fact more than crystal clear." The redhead sighed as he sat on the edge of the tub. She was still glaring at him, as if expecting him to say something else...
'What does she want--?'
"Do you regret leaving me?" Sakura murmured softly as she brought her wet knees to her chin. Her words finally hit him, and he realized that he had forgotten something crucial.
"Yes, but I also wish that you could have relaxed a bit on the dance floor..." Gaara huffed stubbornly, but regretted it as soon as her face soured.
"Gaara, there were more than a few eyes as well as ears on us. I had to be careful--"
"They already assume that we've gone all the way, why does it even matter--?!"
"Because they think I'm your whore! Not your girlfriend, mate, partner, whatever you like to call it... they think that I am your... sex slave." The pinkette sighed, turning on the hot water faucet. While her words stung, he could also see now why she would be hesitant, but she also hated these people so why should it matter?
"Who cares what they think?! They are all useless wastes of space! Meaningless in the grand scheme of things! All that matters is how I feel for you!" The redhead started to argue vehemently, but never rose up from his spot on the edge of the basin.
"And how do you feel about me, Gaara? Do you love me?" The pinkette stared at the water, shocking him to the point where he couldn't respond right away.
'What am I to say to that?! "Yes, I love you. Please, be mine?" I can't say that to her!!' His mind was running a million miles per minute, and he felt every muscle in his body clench as he finally found some word vomit to spew at her.
"Don't ask questions that you don't want to know the answer to." Gaara huffed, looking away from her with a small flush. Then he heard the water shift, and two wet arms wrapped around his center as she molded herself to his back.
'Just say it. "I love you." It's not that difficult--!'
"You're getting me wet..." The redhead huffed, and inwardly slapped himself for his stupidity.
Suddenly he felt a great pull from her, and his whole world turned as she pulled him into the hot water. His whole body was able to go under, and for a second he flailed splashing water everywhere.
Finally he came back up to the surface with a snarl. It scared her enough to squeal, and attempt flight, but his reflexes were quick enough to snatch up her ankle to yank her back under the water.
They wrestled, fought, pushed and pulled until the bath turned into a stormy ocean. Somehow he was underneath her, wondering why she was sitting on his waist before she slammed his shoulders against the edge of the bath in frustration.
"Apologize!!!" Sakura barked. He bared his teeth at her in response, causing her fist to yank at his red hair. Pulling his head back painfully he gave a harsh groan of discomfort, but something about it was strangely erotic. He was beginning to like how her dominance felt.
"Say you're sorry!! For everything that happened!! For leaving me! For... not being nice to me..."
Her hand finally relaxed, and she leaned in next to him to rest her head on the side of the tub. He reached for the tap, turning it off with a long sigh of resignation. He knew he was going to have to humble himself to make this right again.
They remained silent until the water was finally still.
"Sakura... I'm sorry..." Gaara murmured softly before his head dipped into the crook of her neck. His arms wrapped around her possessively as he nuzzled against her. Her naked form felt so soft under his gripping hands. "I'm sorry. I've been too... neurotic. My desires have turned me into a shameful man..."
The redhead adjusted himself into a more proper sitting position, her body slid down until she was nestled sweetly in his lap. Her form felt small in his arms, almost breakable. Like he could snap her if he truly wanted to.
Only he didn't want to kill her, if anything he wished that all barriers between them would disappear. Had he just stripped down before all of this they could have been in a perfectly precarious situation.
Well... they still could be.
The pinkette pulled away to look at him in the face, and the hard blush that hit her cheeks was flattering as well as telling.
"While I do apologize for it, can you really blame me for wanting you? I've tasted you... touched you... I've become greedy for it, and you keep so much to yourself." Gaara's hands gripped at her bottom, and he pulled hard on her hips to grind with her. A small gasp escaped her, and it left him wanting more.
His desire finally reached a tipping point, it left him licking his lips before purring gently.
"I want to be inside you... I want to feel you around me."
Part 8
Sakura sank into the giant stone bathtub, she had no desire to stay in Gaara's room tonight so she went to the one room she hated most. Thankfully she brought her own clothes this time.
The pinkette sat in the water for a long while, and had already washed her hair. At the moment she only had conditioner sitting on it, but with a hard sigh she dunked her head under the surface. Her eyes clenching tight as she sunk to the bottom of the deep bath.
She held her breath for as long as possible, and even after she released it she continued to stay under for an even longer time. She already felt a bit dizzy, and wondered if it would be okay if she just drowned--
Something reached in, grabbing her from both sides to yank her to the surface. Once above, she inhaled with a sharp gasp before hitting the assailant repeatedly in the chest.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!!" She screamed with every strike, not bothering to open her eyes.
"Stop acting like a fool, and I will!" The rasped voice barked, and she didn't have to hear him speak twice to know it was Gaara.
Of course, who else could it be? He could never leave her alone to bathe.
"What do you want? I'm busy--"
"Sorry to take you away from your 'drowning', but I want you to know that those men will not approach you again." As that sentence sunk in she feared for the worst. She wiped her vision of water, expecting to see him covered in blood, but there was none to be found. He had lost the jacket and tie, and his knuckles seemed to be raw from hitting something. Other than that there was no carnage. "I talked to them, isn't that a surprise?"
The pinkette's mouth hung open slightly, completely shocked that he just admitted to not murdering in her name.
"Alright, I threatened a little bit... well... okay more than threatened--"
"Gaara." Sakura spoke in a warning tone, forcing him to look off to the side shamefully. "Did you torture them?"
"Torture is a strong word, more like 'physically pressured'..." Gaara broke into a small smile for a moment, but then cleared his throat when he caught her glaring. "I didn't mangle them, and you can blame Kankuro for Hebiki's broken jaw."
She waited in silence, anticipating an apology or a confession. His expression flittered a few times before continuing.
"Just know that I took care of it, and if it happens again they know full well that I will come to kill them. I made that fact more than crystal clear." The redhead sighed as he sat on the edge of the tub. She could tell that an apology was on the tip of his tongue, but his pride was preventing him from saying it.
"Do you regret leaving me?" Sakura murmured softly as she brought her wet knees to her chin. She hugged her legs for self comfort, yet it still didn't do much to ease her.
"Yes, but I also wish that you could have relaxed a bit on the dance floor..." Gaara huffed stubbornly, and it made her frustration skyrocket once more.
"Gaara, there were more than a few eyes as well as ears on us. I had to be careful--"
"They already assume that we've gone all the way, why does it even matter--?!"
"Because they think I'm your whore! Not your girlfriend, mate, partner, whatever you like to call it... they think that I am your... sex slave." The pinkette sighed, turning on the hot water faucet for extra added heat. The temperature was almost blistering already, but she was still feeling cold.
"Who cares what they think?! They are all useless wastes of space! Meaningless in the grand scheme of things! All that matters is how I feel for you!" The redhead started to argue vehemently, but never rose up from his spot on the edge of the basin.
"And how do you feel about me, Gaara? Do you love me?" The pinkette questioned him.
Why was she asking that, and why did it seem so sad coming from her lips? Perhaps she wished that he did, and that would be at least one person who truly loved her like she always wanted. Someone who wasn't already dead, or had left her behind.
Sakura wanted to be loved, but all of her relationships, even with friends and family, ended up failing in some way.
"Don't ask questions that you don't want to know the answer to." Gaara huffed, looking away from her with a small flush.
She was done with this. This weird dance with him was driving her insane. She reached up, hugging him around the waist feeling him tense.
She just needed to be comforted, she needed to feel close to someone. The desperation was there, and it was glaring.
"You're getting me wet..." The redhead turned his head further to huff, and she felt something snap inside her. With every ounce of her strength she yanked him into the large bath. His whole body was able to go under, and for a second he flailed splashing water everywhere.
He turned around while snarling at her like a vicious dog while she practically jumped out of the water. She squeaked when his hands dove under, pulling at her ankle until she was submerged.
Sakura splashed around, coughing and breathing fresh air as soon as she was able. Her fingers latched onto his wet shirt, tugging it away from his skin in able to regain balance. He started to snicker, and in another wave of anger she kicked at his legs, sweeping him back under the hot water.
The bath had turned into a wave pool, splashing out over the floor while more water was still being poured in by the faucet. Some how she got him completely under her, and she slammed him by the shoulders against the wall of the basin while she sat on his waist.
"Apologize!!!" Sakura barked, and when he bared his teeth at her she fisted her hand in his hair. Yanking his head back painfully he gave a harsh groan of discomfort. "Say you're sorry!! For everything that happened!! For leaving me! For... not being nice to me..."
Her hand relaxed, and her head rested next to his. She felt the coolness of the stone basin on her forehead, while his abdominal muscles seemed to tense under her thighs. She felt him reach for the tap, turning it off with a long sigh.
They remained silent until the water was finally still.
"Sakura... I'm sorry..." Gaara murmured softly before his head dipped into the crook of her neck. His arms wrapped around her possessively as he nuzzled against her. "I'm sorry. I've been too... neurotic. My desires have turned me into a shameful man..."
The redhead adjusted himself into a more proper sitting position, the water coming up just under their chests. Her body slid down him naturally, and she found herself quickly seated in his lap.
The pinkette pulled away from him to gauge his thoughts, and was shocked by the intense gaze he gave her. While his eyes were surrounded by darkness she could now see the water dripping sinfully off his lashes. His red hair sticking to his forehead in a piecey mess. He looked far too sultry to be real.
"While I do apologize for it, can you really blame me for wanting you? I've tasted you... touched you... I've become greedy for it, and you keep so much to yourself." Gaara's hands gripped at her bottom, and he pressed down hard in able to get her to rock against him. A small gasp escaped her lips, and she watched carefully as his eyes grew lidded. "I want to be inside you... I want to feel you around me--"
"Gaara, no. I'm not ready for that..." Sakura tried turning away from him, but one hand turned her chin while the other wrapped around her waist. His hips rose up to meet hers again, gaining a soft groan from both of them.
"I know that, but it doesn't stop me from thinking about it." The redhead panted, his fingers gliding along the skin of her throat. He wrapped his hand around it gently, rubbing her jugular with his thumb. "Every day... I think about it. I try to imagine what it would feel like to be inside you, pleasuring you--"
"Stop this." The pinkette batted his hand away, but he pressed her hips down hard as he lifted his own. She shook violently, and gave a true moan while he looked on in wonder.
"That sound, make it again... I want to hear you beg for me." Gaara held onto her tightly, grinding against her. His mouth went in to suck at her neck, and it had her so overwhelmed that her voice went up in pitch.
Sakura could feel how hard he was through his pants, and how his muscles would tense every time he moved. She wanted to feel them directly under her fingertips.
Her hands traveled to his shirt, plucking each button one by one on the way down to reveal his smooth wet chest. There was no netting this time, just silky pale skin that was hot to the touch. He broke away from her to watch as she finished undoing his shirt, his eyes glazed over with an emotion that she knew all too well.
"You're so beautiful..." Water dripped hypnotically from his lips as he nearly whispered. The redhead's unfocused eyes devoured her nudity, but it seemed that just grinding against her was not enough to quench his thirst. "Let me have you... please--"
"No." The pinkette was stern, but continued her own war of rolling her hips against his while slipping her hands into his open shirt. Her fingers reveled in the feeling of his working muscles, making her whimper with each hard movement. His hands lowered between them, and she knew exactly what he was doing. "Gaara... I said no..."
The redhead ignored her, and suddenly she felt his hand adjust his length out of his pants. He moved his hips in a way that the underside of his erection could slide against her folds, leaving him practically breathless, and her surprised.
"I wont go in... but... it's so close now...." Gaara panted excitedly, his hands now going to her hips for his fingertips to dig into. "This is my 'something'... I hope that's okay with you..."
'Clever bastard.' Her eyes narrowed, but he was correct, since it wasn't penetration it didn't count... but it was cutting it close for sure.
However, she found herself more humored by it rather than upset. She locked her eyes onto him, and rolled her hips sinfully against his. A whine erupted out of her as she did it, and he seemed to follow with a moan of his own.
The water around them made small waves as they moved together. At times he would get a bit antsy and begin kissing her chest, neck, jaw, and then eventually her mouth. The longer they did it the more intense his actions got. Occasionally he'd give a hard squeeze to her bottom, suck hard at her breasts, and sometimes bite at her neck and shoulders. He panted heatedly against her flesh while starting to groan continuously from the attention.
All his hard work was beginning to become her undoing. She rode her naked hips with his with an intensity that she didn't realize she had in her. Her body was pulsing for more, urging her to take it further when she knew she couldn't. She took out her frustration on his chest, clawing down the muscles as they tensed under her touch. His hands ran up her sides to tangle into her wet hair while she leaned forward to suck lasciviously along his neck.
"Fuck--" Gaara cursed as his coal rimmed eyes fluttered shut, she could feel his heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he whimpered. Her fingers latched in his hair for a light tug, and got a heavy whine for her effort. His movements grew more frantic, and his arm around her waist was holding her bruisingly tight so he could rock his hips even harder.
She moaned on his neck, then turned her face up to his ear, mewling against the shell while he shivered with each needy cry.
"Gaara... please..." Sakura knew he would be weakened to it, and as good as this felt she did not want to finish this way. Instead she wanted to really feel, and witness him do it. While she whined loudly next to his ear she heard him give another curse, this time it sounded almost like desperate prayer.
'He's so close...' The butterflies in her stomach wouldn't stop fluttering, the more he cried out in desperation to climax the more she felt those cries pang through her body in the most shameful of ways.
"Sakura--!" The redhead tilted his head back with a pitched moan, his hips rolling against her as his voice continued to cry and break. His breathing was panicked, his body arched up for one last grind before he came hard. She felt like she might be riding a bronco with how much he writhed beneath her. It was so incredibly sexy that she almost ended up getting there herself, and was somewhat disappointed when she felt her veins pulse with the absence of orgasm; screaming at her for being too cruel.
Gaara held her to him fast, his erection still pushing out what had been building up between them. The pinkette leaned her face upwards to kiss at his neck, occasionally giving long licks to wick away the water that had gathered along his pulse. She was in a state of arousal that had her doing strange things at the moment.
The redhead seemed to notice, and even in his hazy state he ended up raising a curious naked brow at her.
"I... seem to be the only one who got there...huh?" It was a rhetorical question, but for some reason he ended up laughing at himself. "I'm not very good at this--"
"No... you're wonderful..." Sakura ran her hands up his chest, and into his hair to scratch playfully at his scalp. His eyes watched her as if she were the most interesting thing on the planet. "I held off... on purpose..."
"Why?" His hairless brows furrowed, and his hand came up to trace her bottom lip with his thumb.
"I wanted to watch you first." The pinkette felt a sense of shamelessness, as if any and all truths could be told at this moment. He blinked at her owlishly for a second before looking away.
"Well... I hope I didn't disappoint... " Gaara formed a shy pout with his lips, and a flattering blush had tinged his cheeks. She almost couldn't take it anymore, and began reaching for his hands.
"You didn't--" Sakura pulled his hands over her wet frame, watching his expression carefully as he managed to swallow hard. She pushed his right hand downwards, and in between her legs. "--but now I need you to touch me--"
"Sakura, wait." The redhead held his hand firmly away from her, and she almost cried at the lack of feeling. He began moving them, but all she wanted was for him to touch her. She started to throw a fit, whining and smacking at him while he lifted her up out of the water to sit on the edge of the tub. Her feet were still submerged, but the rest of her body was exposed to him. "Forgive me, but I'd like to take the second choice of 'somethings' for tonight--"
"That's not fair--!!" The pinkette went to argue at first, but he ignored her completely. Distracted in her anger she didn't realize what he was doing until his hands had parted her legs. He nestled his chest between them, wrapping his arms around her waist sweetly before kissing her stomach. "Wh-what...are you--??"
"I want to taste you properly." Gaara answered huskily, and she was shocked that he could already be so worked up after just finishing himself. His kisses went lower, and lower.... and lower....
Sakura gasped as he quickly put one thigh over his shoulder, and placed his mouth over her aching heat. She mewled in approval, fisting her hands into his red hair to pull firmly at the locks. He let out a heated breath that flayed against her wet folds, and a slight breathy laugh escaped him before he took a few lascivious licks.
The pinkette whined, her figure started to rock itself shamelessly in ecstasy while he lapped at her. The occasional sucking had her throwing her head back in a hard pant while scraping her nails against his scalp.
The more he did it, the more strongly she'd react. She was already so worked up when he got to her that it didn't take long to get her to a steady point.
Sakura had never felt like this before, it was nothing like anything she could do to herself, and it was so intense that it had her trembling with the need to finish. There was no pain in the friction, no discomfort, only pleasure. As his mouth became more ardent she felt her legs clinging to his back while his fingers dug into her hips and thighs.
"...Gaara... yes...." The pinkette whined, her heart starting to race as her orgasm was fast approaching. Her body was shivering with need, and he answered by licking her as firmly as he could. When her hips went to buck in pleasure his strong hands held her steady, allowing her to have that fight that she needed for a great climax.
It was like a gunshot, loud and fast. Her hands pulled hard at his hair, and he groaned against her folds as he tried to keep up. She gave out high moan that quickly turned into a scream of ecstasy. Her blood pounded so hard that it was all she could hear in her ears. Her heartbeat was the only thing left of her before she took a much needed sharp inhale, coming back down into her body once more as oversensitivity took over.
He was still going, and as much as she liked his enthusiasm her body just couldn't handle that much attention.
"Stop!" Sakura squealed, her legs trying desperately to close even though he was still there, however his grip on her was great enough that she did not succeed.
Gaara pulled away from her with a lidded expression at first, but then a genuine smile made it's way across his features. He ended up chuckling as her expression grew more flustered.
"H-hey!! Stop laughing--!"
"I'm sorry... you looked so cute..." The redhead panted slightly, and ended up licking his lips which only made her more bashful. "Did I do it right?"
The flush that took over her whole body was intense, she made a weird expression before hiding her face in her hands.
'Oh my god... I was screaming!!'
"Sakura? I asked you a question..." She felt his hands go back to her thighs, steadily creeping up her frame to her waist, but she refused to look at him. "Did I do it right? Or perhaps I should try again--?"
"You did fine!!! Go away!!" The pinkette shrieked at him before swinging her legs out of the tub. She quickly grabbed the towel next to her, and wrapped herself protectively in it. However, it didn't protect her from his laughter.
"There's no need to be embarrassed." He teased. She heard water sloshing around, as well as a drain being pulled. Then one by one his soaked clothing seemed to be plopped over the edge of the tub. She jumped when she saw it, and scurried over to the bed in the center of the room. Acting quickly she hid deep under the blankets, encasing herself in darkness.
Sakura knew he would follow her there, but at the moment she didn't want him to see her face, or tease her for how she had reacted.
"Sakura... Sakura... in spring sky as far as I see... is it mist or is it a cloud?~" Gaara sang her name in a familiar song, and hummed the rest of the tune as he approached. The edge of the blanket lifted, so she huddled further down. "There you are, cherry blossom, no more hiding--"
"Go away!!" The pinkette pouted, and his brow furrowed before a sly smirk graced his features.
"Not a chance, not after hearing you scream like that..." His tone grew dark, sultry even. "How dare you tease me, and then hide away."
Suddenly he was crawling under those very same blankets as her, and for a moment it seemed that he was not dressed.
No, he truly was not dressed. At all.
"Stop!!" Sakura shrieked as she felt him pawing at her in the dark. Her body was being pulled to him easily on the silk sheets. His mouth was on her flesh in an instant, kissing along her chest and up her neck. She didn't know why, but her hands clawed sinfully along his back making him drag his teeth down her jugular.
"I want to hear it again... say my name... scream it..." The redhead spoke huskily, tilting his mouth towards her ear to purr. "I am starving, and my appetite is insatiable--"
"Gaara, please! I can't take any more, it's too much!" The pinkette tried moving away from him once more, but his hands pulled hard on her hips bringing her under him. With one arm he held himself over her, and with the other his hand immediately found it's way between her legs. "Gaara!! Stop--!!"
"Ssh... hush now, I'm going to do something a little different--"
"It's going to hurt!!!" Sakura kicked her legs, and only recieved a breathy laugh for her effort. The feeling of his lips against the shell of her ear had her breaking out in goosebumps all over her body.
"You really think I would be so cruel? I have only showed you gentleness despite the fact that I have an intense desire for you." Gaara's words were whispered, but the meaning had her feeling a bit guilty. She began to relax, and a small sigh escaped him. "Yes... just relax..."
His fingers stroked gently at her wet heat, humming in approval over the state of arousal that she still seemed to be in. Suddenly her folds started to part, and she felt him slowly insert two digits inside of her.
Sakura was not completely foreign to this, as she had grown curious a few times, but having someone else do it had her tensing up almost painfully. As he moved his fingers out slowly she felt her sheath wanting to hold him in despite the fact that she wasn't sure if she wanted him there in the first place.
"You're burning up inside, I can feel it." The redhead panted excitedly against the shell of her ear. She squirmed slightly with shame, placing her hands over her face even though the blankets already hid them from the light. When he pumped them again she felt a familiar sensation, but it was also different. The fingers that were invasive before were now filling her with a pleasure that she hadn't felt before, a pleasure she was slowly starting to warm up to. "Is this okay?"
Although he asked a perfectly normal question she had to turn her face away, and this seemed to not sit well him. He removed his hand, and then flipped back the blanket to blind her. She felt as if it were agony, being teased in such a way only for him to stop so abruptly. He glared down at her, and it made the pinkette feel small.
"I wont do it unless you tell me that you want it." Gaara scolded her, and while she would usually feel upset by it for some reason she found it somewhat alluring tonight. "Say it."
The redhead was impatient, dark, and dominant. It was turning her on, and surprising her at the same time. She maneuvered her body into more relaxed position while keeping her eyes on his, and she let herself become vulnerable underneath him. Yet all it did was make him click his tongue.
"No, while I do appreciate this I still asked you a question. You will give me a verbal answer--"
Sakura whined like a spoiled child who refused to ask for something politely, and it got the redhead to raise a hairless brow at her display. A small smirk tried to make it's way across his lips, but he quickly narrowed his eyes instead.
"Say you want it." When she shook her head his voice lowered to a soft growl. "Say it."
Her heart was pounding so fast, and truth be told she wanted him to do it more than anything, but she didn't want to have that choice. She didn't want to come off as some sort of sex crazed nympho--
"Alright, I'm leaving." Gaara's lips formed a tight line as he began to move away from her, but before she knew it she was grabbing at one of his arms desperately. That tight line quickly formed a devilish smirk that he unfortunately could not hold back. "Say it then."
"I want it." The pinkette's voice came out small, but it seemed to have a good effect on him. She could see him breathe hard at her admission, goosebumps showing up on his skin while a shiver went down his spine.
"...Say it again." The redhead growled as he turned towards her, an animalistic instinct washing over him quickly. She could practically feel the heat radiating off of him.
"I want it." Sakura spoke more confidently, and that same shiver rippled through him as he pressed his mouth over hers.
She could taste a hint of herself on his lips, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. If anything it had her burning up at the reminder of what he had done to her. He pressed her back down onto the mattress, and held one knee up to her chest while his hand stroked her exposed sex. She gave a needy whimper, and he answered by slipping in two fingers. It was more accepted this time, and the more she relaxed into it the better it felt.
Gaara moved back slightly to get a view of what he was doing, and it was enough to make her squeak in bashfulness. However, the tone quickly changed as he began working a firm and steady pace on her. Forgetting her shyness she started to writhe in pleasure, her body moving like a snake as his digits pumped into her.
"You're getting so tight..." The redhead chuckled slightly, and although she felt thoroughly flustered by it the only thing she could do was moan for him. Her emotions didn't seem to matter anymore as her natural instinct took over. "Does it feel good?"
The pinkette mewled in answer, rolling her hips with his working hand finding it to be just that much sweeter. His eyes roamed her frame greedily, enjoying every second of pleasurable torture he placed on her. Soon he was hovering over her again, leaning in for a kiss that she was far too eager for.
Sakura moaned against his lips, occasionally panting his name in between rough kisses that took her breath away. Her nails raked against his skin, carving her way down his lean hips and toned thighs leaving him trembling underneath. When her hand accidentally ran across his groin she felt his hardened length, and grabbed hold of it with an almost painful firmness.
"Stop being...sneaky..." Gaara panted in between desperate kisses, and decided that moving faster was the best option. She tried stroking him, but was greatly distracted by what he was doing to her. Her head shot back as her body arched with his hand, stringing her tight like bow's string. She was too close to function properly anymore, so holding him tightly was all she could do. "That's it... scream for me--"
As he pushed harder she felt herself clenching around his fingers, crying out wildly from high pitches to low ones. Her body was breaking out into a sweat as the noises heaved from her throat, slowly causing her vocals to rasp from overuse. Her pink hair clung to her face as she rolled her head in pleasure. Just when she thought it was too much his hand began to slow, and she regained the breath that she had lost during the intense moment.
The redhead pulled back, chuckling slightly in a breathy tone while his eyes continued to study her. As she came back to reality she looked over to him, her heart still racing from what he had done to her.
"I've been wanting to do that all night." Gaara laughed genuinely then, and his smile was far too beautiful.
That same smile that he only ever showed to her. It was a gift, and she wanted to return it.
"You're too stunning for your own good, I was completely enchanted when you walked out of the bathroom in that dress." His eyes closed for a moment, as if he were remembering it fondly.
"Is that so?" She didn't know why at first that she was suddenly crawling over to him, and it didn't become apparent until she had placed her hands on his hips that she actually had a plan in mind. It was spontaneous, but she didn't care, this would be her 'something' for the night. "You didn't think about yourself... at all?"
His eyes opened as her hands stroked at his skin, they darted around her frame curiously before he bit his lower lip for just the briefest of moments.
"I tried not to... I'd just chase you away with the things I'd want to take from you--"
"Such a martyr, the demon that loves only itself is a total lie isn't it?" Sakura smirked, taking his erection into her hand to tease it with feathery strokes. He let out a slow, yet shaking breath, his eyes starting glaze from the second she had reached for it. "So, oh selfless one, I guess you wouldn't be interested in me putting this inside myself, would you?"
"Don't be cruel." Gaara narrowed his eyes in warning, but it only spurred her on.
"Are you sure? You could try begging for it. Who knows, maybe I'm in a giving mood--"
"You already told me 'no', and I already prepared myself for that rejection." The redhead snipped, his temper started to flare just the slightest. It seemed he was not one to be teased, even lightly.
"I didn't mean 'that' way. You assume there is only one part of me that can take you..." The pinkette lowered her head for a moment, and licked the underside of his length as his breath hitched. His breathing from then on out was a forceful pant.
"Do you want it?" She purred.
"Yes." There was no waiting, no thinking involved, he simply put his desire out there on the table. She snickered for a moment at his eagerness, finding him to be fairly innocent yet struck with a carnal need.
"What's the magic word?" Sakura giggled looking up at him from below his waist. His eyes unfocused, became lidded, and glazed over with lust as his lips parted.
"Please..." He breathed the word, and it made every hair raise up on her body.
"With sugar on top-" She gave a long lascivious lick before continuing. "-And ice cream in the middle?"
The redhead blinked at her for a moment as his cheeks began to flush. He looked like he might faint from the attention.
"Yes... sugar... ice cream... middle..." Gaara's words came out choppy, as if he forgot what language was. She full on laughed at his display, but decided against teasing him any further.
The second the pinkette wrapped her lips around him he let out a groan of relief. His fingers tangled in her pink hair, but he was incredibly gentle with her scalp.
She remembered things that Ino had told her about her 'oral' encounters. There was to be no touching from her teeth, that was a given. The tip was the most sensitive part, that was second. Last, but certainly not least, the penis was not the only part that was to receive attention; the testicles were just as important.
It was funny how other women would rave about their talent in merely placing their mouth on a man, and calling it a day, but Ino had made sure that Sakura knew that there was a lot more to it than that.
As the redhead let out a rather youthful whimper she seized that moment to cup him gently in her hand. The fingers in her hair clenched while he gave a full moan.
He was far too precious, sounding like a young teenager during his first sexual experience. She reveled in the idea that she was tainting him in some way; tainting this 'monstrous' man who always seemed to have blood drenched in his clothes.
Sakura was enjoying herself, and that scared her a little bit, but just because it was new and odd didn't mean that she would stop herself. That would be true cruelty.
"Sakura..." Gaara whimpered, his hands clenching and opening in her hair. As she swirled her tongue around his tip she witnessed him not only cry out harshly, but tremble as well. He was shivering hard, and his skin started to sweat while he gave shaking breaths. He would whisper her name, whimper it, and cry it out like a mantra. It left her feeling high with how she could bring such a 'frightening' person literally to their knees. "S-stop... please..."
She didn't, she knew why he wanted her to do so, but she didn't care. His hands tried to push her away, weakly one might add, but she stayed regardless of the fact that he was also trying to pull her hair. She became more vigorous, and soon his hips were rising up to meet her with each bob of her head.
"No! Stop!" The redhead cried out, but after it was said she went harder, and she could practically feel the shock go through him as he groaned loudly through his teeth. She felt him start to pulse on her tongue, and as a wave of bitter salt splashed into her mouth she quickly tried gulping it back. It wasn't as fluid as she would have liked, but it wasn't awful either.
The fingers in her hair loosened, and all the muscles that were clenched up relaxed almost instantly. The only sound left was that of his panting breath. Pulling away she wiped her mouth smartly, giving him a rather smug smile.
"Did I do it right?" Sakura teased, and while he did blush he also got a tired laugh out of it.
"I think so... however we could try again--" Gaara said with a exhausted smile, and she balked at his suggestion.
"Stop getting greedy!" She smacked at his thigh, gaining another laugh for her trouble. "How about instead of acting like an ass you can thank me with a glass of water?"
As much as it made him wince he also couldn't stop his snickers. While she turned to lay on her stomach she felt the bed move as he got up to do the exact thing she had told him to do.
'He's such a puppy.' The pinkette giggled inwardly, thinking how he could literally eat from the palm of her hand while also licking it completely clean. 'Oh, boy... He's got a talent for that too...'
"Here." The redhead was now holding out a glass of water for her, and surprisingly wearing a nice black robe. When she looked him over questioningly his cheeks managed to tinge pink. "Um... it was by the closet... I can get you one too--"
"No need." Sakura smirked as she rolled onto her side, taking a long drink of the water he had given her. From the corner of her eye she could tell he was studying her naked form, and for some reason she liked the attention. She pulled the drink away from her lips to place it down on the nightstand before truly staring him down. "Well, thank you for such a wonderful evening. You were a fantastic bed partner, but now I must bid you farewell. The door is that way."
She pointed to the door, and gave him a sinister smile, which he returned in kind.
"Kicking me out--?"
"Well, that's what you're here for right? To please me? You've done your job well enough." The pinkette looked at her nails, pretending to be aloof with him just to get under his skin. It seemed to be working for the most part. "Oh, I forgot to ask what your going rates are-- AAACK!!"
With a ferocious snarl he tackled her onto the bed, and while it surprised her she couldn't help but laugh hysterically as he growled against her neck. He seemed to understand the joke, and it put a nice spin on things.
"Back! Back I say! You little beastie--!" Sakura almost snorted as she smacked at his shoulder, but he stopped abruptly to glare at her.
"I am not 'little'." Gaara spoke in a low tone that sent pleasant shivers down her spine. She lowered her lashes for him, and bit her lip.
"You're right. You're a big, intimidating, enticing, and handsome beast." The pinkette purred, and as he tried to inch closer she proceeded to crawl away.
"Flattery will get you nowhere--" He smirked.
"Wrong! You're already trying to paw at me again, you're incorrigible." Sakura turned her head defiantly, but it only gave him an opening to kiss her neck. "Hey! I'm tired--!"
"Hello, tired. I'm incorrigible, it's a pleasure to meet you." Gaara bit down, and when she jolted his hands gripped greedily around her frame. She smacked at his shoulder a few times, receiving a snicker against her skin.
"I can't believe you just made that joke!" The pinkette scoffed, but quickly became putty in his roaming hands while he worked his magic on her neck. It had her humming, and relaxing in his strong arms. "I'm about to fall asleep..."
"Let me sleep next to you then..." The redhead's heated breath flayed against her skin, and his weight on top of her was more than welcome.
"You really shouldn't." Sakura pet his hair while he kissed down her collar to the center of her chest, it was the place where he finally rested his head despite the fact of it being bare.
"I know...but I still want to." Gaara's arms gripped her possessively, and her heart began to sink thinking about his predicament.
"Have you talked to 'him' about it? You two talk often don't you?" The pinkette kept her tone gentle, as she was prodding at a very delicate topic. He nuzzled further against her chest at first before giving a tired sigh.
"It's like talking to a wall. He is stuck in his ways thinking that everyone must die--"
"Including me?" Sakura blurted, and felt stupid for asking such a thing. When he didn't answer she felt that she had recieved her answer.
"I don't... like to talk about you with him... but I can tell he likes you. However, I don't want to share you with him..." The redhead's hold tightened, but his words confused her.
"What do you mean by 'share'?" She asked carefully, and when he stiffened she felt a bit nervous to know the answer.
"We share a body... he knows what I know... and can feel what I feel.... I believe this is why he likes you." Gaara almost whispered, then some sort of desperation came over him. It inspired him to move upwards to hold her more protectively. She could feel a sense of anxiety wash over him as he held her. "He made me an offer recently... after our first... whatever you'd like to call it, and I don't think the risk is worth it."
"He made an offer? Like what?" The pinkette was already suspicious of the being inside of him, and felt her caution become validated rather quickly.
"Time with you... in exchange for the first peaceful night's sleep I've ever had in my entire life." The redhead sighed before shaking his head. "I'd rather die of insomnia--"
"You should accept it." Sakura stated calmly, and he instantly pushed himself up to truly look at her face. He looked absolutely horrified.
"You can't be serious! He would kill you--!"
"If he wanted to kill me he obviously wouldn't care enough to want my company." The pinkette deadpanned while he gaped at her for even trying to defend the beast.
"And what if it's something more sinister than that?" Gaara narrowed his eyes in warning, jealousy clear on his features. While she was worried about something like that she also knew that any chance he had at getting some rest was probably worth it.
She'd probably have to bargain with this one, and with the last card in her hand no less. However, she desperately wanted to give him some sort of peace... so handing over her final ace seemed only natural.
No, it was more than that. She honestly just wanted him to have it.
"You can take the bargain... after you've had me for yourself..." Sakura said it in a small voice, but it made a great enough impact on him that he started to forget how to breathe.
"Sakura... I... I can't do that--"
"Oh don't lie, you know you'd fuck me in a heartbeat." The pinkette scoffed, and while the idea seemed to dawn on him with a fierce reddening of his cheeks he also seemed to shake the thought literally from his head.
"I...no---wait... yes... I mean... yes. Yes, I would, but it's not right for me to feed you to a monster just so I can actually sleep for once." While he seemed a bit mixed in his emotions she could see the weariness in his eyes. He just... looked so exhausted. The idea must have been haunting him for so long now...
She'd have to force him to do this somehow, yet an idea came to her quicker than she thought.
"Gaara, I give you full permission to have sex with me whenever you so choose, but afterwards you will answer to the one tail's demands. Then you can finally get the rest you deserve." Sakura laid out the bargain for him, and he merely stared at her as if she were insane.
"You can't be... serious--"
"Deadly serious. I'll meet him head on for you, I'm not scared of him."
That was a filthy lie, ever since that day in the forest she was scared shitless of the bijuu that lived inside of him. The sand beast had almost killed her, yet she was sure that Gaara had somehow made it so she could live another day. She truly believed that deep in her heart.
His face started to twist, and his jealousy seemed to erupt.
"Then I guess I'll just stay abstinent!" The redhead barked at her. She frowned, thinking that he was blowing this out of proportion.
However, there were sneakier ways to get what she wanted, and she decided to use what she had at full force.
"That's too bad... I was really looking forward to it." The pinkette stretched languidly underneath him, and just like that she had his undivided attention. "After the amount of talent you've shown me tonight I'm positive that you must be a complete animal in the bedroom. I guess I'll just have to use my imagination--"
"Stop teasing." Gaara growled at her, making her raise a well groomed brow at him.
"What am I going to do? I don't think I've ever wanted anyone so badly in my life..." Her hands wandered her own body in the most sensual of ways, making him stare at her with a hungry expression. "Don't you want me too?"
As she reached up to stroke his cheek he leaned his head into her hand before kissing longingly against her wrist. His eyes were dark with desire, holding an almost bitter expression.
"You're so cruel..." The redhead murmured against the inside of her delicate wrist. She watched in wonder as he inhaled her scent while growing more enraged. "Why don't you ever shut up? I'm so sick of your twisted bullshit--"
"Excuse me?" Sakura furrowed her brow both in insult, and confusion. Her words seemed to wake him up to his odd behavior, cueing a horrified look in his eyes as he realized that he had spoken aloud.
"N-not you! I'm sorry, I wasn't talking to you!" Gaara seemed truly upset by this, and while she loved to watch him act like an innocent little boy she didn't truly want to cause him any harm. She reached up to soothe him, scratching with a feather light touch along his nape.
"Ah, I see. Well, if you're going to talk to him out loud can you make sure to let me know that its 'him' you're talking to, and not me?" The pinkette snickered while another blush graced his cheeks, although this time it was merely out of awkwardness.
The redhead couldn't seem to speak, and her only confirmation was a quick and awkward nod of his head. He was too distraught to tease any further, so she decided to end their discussion for the night.
"So, am I sleeping here? Or downstairs?" Sakura smiled warmly at him, and he blinked as if he were stunned by her somehow.
"I don't want you to get dressed..." Gaara started pouting, causing her to roll her eyes at him.
"Oh my god, you are such a brat!" While her words sounded mean, the little smile that went with them told him that she was merely playing. He seemed to take it well enough, managing a smirk if his own. She rolled over, and felt him cuddle up close to her. With a wave of his hand the sand in his gourd by the bed started to move at his will, going around to each oil lamp to douse them for the night.
Sakura watched curiously as the grains sparkled in the moonlight, wondering how he could get them to move on a chakra level. She felt him nuzzle the back of her neck, and breathe slowly. It were as if he was truly about to go to sleep, although she knew better than that.
"Goodnight, Sakura." The redhead whispered as he clung to her naked frame under the sheets. She moved even closer to him.
"Goodnight, Gaara, sleep well--"
"You know I wont." He huffed, and it was cute enough to make her laugh.
"I know, but I can still wish for it, right?" The pinkette hummed before truly feeling fatigue hit her, and she started to drift to the sounds of his calm breathing.
"I love you."
She could have sworn she heard him say that, but she wasn't completely certain. Perhaps it was only a dream.
Yet, it warmed her heart in places that she thought were completely destroyed. Places she could have sworn were broken inside of her.
She wished it were real.
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This week the spotlight is on Holly ( @my-broken-bones-are-mending90 )! Click the read more link below to get to know our member!
Spotlight by Mila, @jughead-jones | Graphic by Katie, @betty-cooper
Holly | @my-broken-bones-are-mending90
Name: Holly
Age: 28
Location: Greer, South Carolina
Any other languages aside from English people can contact you in?: I wish. I majorly flunked Spanish.
Favourite Riverdale characters and ships?: Bughead, is my favorite ship obviously. I had a thing for Midge/Moose for a while but I kind of knew they wouldn’t happen, I also ship Mary and Fred. I have an appreciation for Varchie and I hope to see them get even more development as a couple in season 3. My absolute favorite characters are Jughead and Betty.
Favourite moments from S1 & S2?: I love the scene in season 1 where they’re in the diner and Jughead kisses Betty’s hands after his birthday party. It was one of the sweetest scenes I had ever seen. One of my favorite moments in season 2 was when Veronica refused to leave Archie after they had sex in the shower. AND the scene where Betty decides to save the diner and she’s thinking about why it’s important.
What are your hopes for S3?: Seeing Jughead and Betty as a strong/crime solving couple. Meeting Jellybean and Gladys. I would love to see Archie and Cheryl self-destruct together just so they can utilize KJ and Mads chemistry some more. BUT then they can go back to their significant others.
Other fandoms you’re into?: I am heavily into the Stranger Things fandom.
What are some of your favourite movies/TV?: Elementary, Sherlock, This Is Us, the Mentalist, Stranger Things, Boy Meets World. My favorite movies are Breakfast at Tiffany’s and You’ve Got Mail are my two favorites EVER.
Favourite books?: the Little Prince, Nancy Drew, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, Sherlock Holmes, the Charlotte Holmes Mysteries, the Magician’s Nephew.
Favourite bands/musicians?: Taylor Swift, Michael Buble, Sleeping At Last, Frank Sinatra, Kelly Clarkson, Barbra Streisand.
If you could live in any fictional world which one would you choose and why?: Probably Narnia. It was the first fantasy world I really ever was invested in. Who wouldn’t want to be “once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia”.
Favourite food?: Pizza and French fries.
Favourite season?: Winter.
Favourite plant?: Sunflowers!
Favourite scent?: To wear? At the Beach from Bath & Body quite consistently and recently I’ve fallen in love with cinnamon and vanilla by Hempz. THEN I love the smell of coffee.
Favourite colour?: Pink or glitter. Is glitter a color?
Favourite animal?: Dogs. BUT dolphins are a close second.
Are you a night owl, an early bird, or a vampire?: I am both an early bird and a night owl. BUT I usually get the most done in the afternoon or late at night.
Place you want to visit?: France, China, Australia, Italy, Greece, anywhere I can see the bottom of the ocean.
Do you have pets? If you do, tell us a little about them: I have one dog, a doxie/black lab mix we adopted from the shelter almost 3 years ago. Her name is Ember and she thinks she’s a guard dog even though she weighs less than 50 pounds wet. She likes to eat iceberg lettuce and white rice.
Tell us a little about yourself?: I am the oldest of 5 kids, 3 sisters (Heather, Hannah, and Katherine) tand 1 brother (Andrew). I am a freshly minted auntie to an 8-month old named Roger, I have 25 cousins and I am the oldest grandchild on my dad’s side.
Fun or weird fact about you?: George Clooney was filming Leatherheads where I live, he turned around and I waved. He waved back. A weird fact is, I can wrap my whole arm around my neck and touch my ear.
Asks for fanfic authors:
How long have you been writing?: I’ve been telling stories my whole life, I’ve been writing fan fiction for 14 years.
Which is your favourite of the fics you’ve written?: My favorite Bughead story I’ve ever written is a one-shot called Dreams. It didn’t get a lot of attention though, so it kind of disappointed me.
Favourite fic/chapter/plot-point/character you’ve ever written?: One of my favorite chapters to write was in my story “the Boyfriend Plot” when Jughead and Betty had a makeout session to Just My Imagination Running Away With Me by the Temptations. It was a turning point in the story for Betty and the song choice reflected how Jughead was feeling pretending to be Betty’s boyfriend.
Which was the hardest to write, and why?: Hello Darkness My Old Friend. It dealt with addiction, so I was constantly aware that I could be triggering somebody and also, it was filling a wish prompt so I was always uncertain if I was matching the vision of the person who requested it.
How do you come up with the ideas for you fic(s)? (examples: Do you draw inspiration from real life? Listen to music? Get inspired by TV/movies?) Do you have an process to your writing?: I draw a lot of inspiration from movies, literature, movies, and TV shows. Usually when I get an idea for a new story, I’ll jot down ideas in a moleskin my dad got for me. Then I’ll start gathering stuff for my book covers and playing around with it until I get what I like. THEN, I’ll build a playlist. Which is one of my favorite parts of the process.
Idea that you always wanted to write?: Fanfiction wise, I would like to write a story where the female character sends the male character a Christmas present while he’s at war. Then he comes to see her because her letter or present got him through it. Fiction wise, I’d love to write a series about the Biltmore or a YA novel about Hades and Persephone.
Favourite character to write?: Betty or Mike from Stranger Things, hands down. I can relate to both of them on so many levels. Otherwise it’s Patrick Jane from the Mentalist or Sherlock Holmes from Sherlock or Elementary. I’ve been told I have a knack for getting their voices.
Best comment/review you’ve ever received?: There was one from @lilibug--xx on High Society recently, I was flattered because I think she had just won best overall smut writer in the Bughead Fanfiction Awards. SO, to be noticed by her was just spectacular for me.
Best and worst parts of being a writer?: The best parts of being a writer is stringing together words and sentences that will really move somebody. The worst part of being a writer is the crippling self-doubt I subject myself to.
Do you have any advice to offer?: Write for YOURSELF. Not for other people, if you want to write it and you can’t get it out of your mind. Just do it! Don’t try and write something that you think people will want to read. It’s a recipe for an unsatisfied life.
.
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This is the eighth instalment of Bughead Family’s Member Spotlight series. Each week, a member’s url is selected through a randomizer and they will be featured in a spotlight post. In order to participate, please join the Bughead Discord (more information found here). Thank you.
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Amazing Dramaturgy for THE BOOK OF WILL (Part 1)
INTRODUCTION TO THE BOOK OF WILL
Theatrical Outfit, Atlanta, 21 July, 2018
Michael Evenden, Production Dramaturg
Personal introduction.
I wanted to start by acknowledging the long relationships I have with many artists in this room, because I think one of the sources, the primary energies of this play, is gratitude—active gratitude. These characters are fighting to express that kind of gratitude, and to pit that active gratitude and honoring of what’s irreplaceable, against loss, refusing to let loss have the final word. It’s a noble quest.
What are these characters trying to preserve?
At an obvious level, they’re fighting to protect Shakespeare’s plays. But what does that mean? What are Shakespeare’s plays—to them? And honestly, I think that, for every character in the play, the idea of what Shakespeare’s plays are might have a slightly different meaning, because of different exposure to them, because . . . nobody read them. Practically speaking, nobody in this play is likely to have read a Shakespeare play. Possible exceptions? Jaggard, and possibly his son--because they are the only ones of these characters who printed them. But that’s a different relationship to the text than reading it for pleasure or comprehension. Ralph Crane, because he made copies—same thing. Possibly Emilia Bassano because she’s been away from the stage and may have read something in quarto nostalgically. Maybe.
For those most involved in the theater, the play wasn’t experienced as a coherent written text at any point; and the text of the play, if they ever even thought about it, was a prodigiously unstable, slippery thing. And I want you to understand all the ways that was true.
Shakespeare never made any effort to publish his plays. His poetry, yes—for the long narrative poems and the sonnets, he oversaw publication with great care. No effort to publish a play. We don’t even have any hard evidence that he actually kept a copy of them. Why? We don’t know—but we need to clear out a number of our own preconceptions to get something of an idea:
First, the profession of playwright itself was not exactly a thing in early modern England: it was mostly a sideline that educated men would do to earn a buck while trying to rise in society; most playwrights gave it up, many later actively renounced the theater. Although there are exceptions, by and large people didn’t think of a playwriting career. Even Shakespeare, who wrote plays longer and more centrally in his career than almost anybody, was a co-owner of his company, so in part a manager, plus a published poet, and a landlord. A lot of these men, like Henry Condell, diversified to make a living (actor, theater manager, merchant). So the idea of separate, defining calling as a playwright or a theater artist of any kind—no. They did without that idea.
And, second, plays themselves were not regarded as particularly publishable literary work. England was late to arrive at that idea: there were plenty of published plays in Italy and Spain, but in England it was like writing a disposable paperback romance or an early television script or a video game: nowadays fans might follow a particular writer in these fields (as they get more arty), but most of the time we let the author’s name slip past unnoticed and we would never read those things in book form: so, truly, nobody thought of publishing a playscript any more than we would proudly publish the text of a comic book without the illustrations. A published play from the popular theater— published in some official way—didn’t seem to make sense. It wasn’t a thing they imagined.
Third, a related point: Very often plays were casually co-written, as modern scholarship suggests several of Shakespeare’s plays may have been. And, as Bart van Es points out in his new book Shakespeare and Company, Shakespeare, who had the unique distinction of writing over a rather long career with a single company of players, not only had occasional co-writers, but he also seemed to write his plays in collaboration with his actors—not necessarily verbal collaboration, but incorporating what he knew of them and their talents, so that spiritually the plays were not just his but were co-created.
So Shakespeare had his poems that he edited and published and put his name on and cared for in a particular way. The plays were something different, and, honestly, his refusal to publish them may be in a way a tribute to their nature as performance texts made in the maelstrom of a decades-long collaboration—he did not think of extracting the text from those performances. And if Shakespeare didn’t think to extract the play from the performance, why would anyone else?
The Raw Materials of the Folio.
So if those plays weren’t the way we think of them, as texts to be read and possibly performed, but rather performances maybe never to be read, then what was their afterlife—what forms did the texts of the plays actually survive in?
We can say a play, unpublished, might survive in ten imperfect forms:
· The playwright’s initial, handwritten rough version, what were called the foul papers.
· The fair copy—a final draft in good handwriting prepared by the playwright or a professional scribe—the initial final draft.
· The fair copy was sent to be recorded in the Stationer’s Register, which listed all manner of texts made public, and technically controlled who had the rights to each, and from there to the Master of Revels for censorship; this fair copy, possibly with emendations for censorship, might then return to the company to be annotated and edited as the prompt script. This is the text the prompter offstage would prompt the actors with if they got lost in performance—the prompter or company scribe adding in notes of entrances exits business, etc. Is that the authentic item? The real play? Or do you want the fair copy, the version before the censor got to it, or before the play was cut and revised in rehearsal for god knows what reason—lack of actors? adjustment to a different performance space or a different audience?—cutting politically sensitive scenes before the play tours to court? In any case, which is more authentic (the play before rehearsal or as performed?)—and authentic to what?
· There were other reasons a prompt script would change in use: particularly if a play was revived, it was common practice for it to be rewritten by a new author for the new staging: when Shakespeare’s company revived Marston’s The Malcontent, they wrote in a whole new character for their new clown, Robert Armin, very much consistent with Armin’s comic persona—he was the fool in Lear, for example—but he wasn’t in Marston’s original text. Yet he was there in the second version that was performed—so which version do we care about? The revision prompt script is another version of the play—which reflects performances and therefore has that level of authenticity. An interesting example for us is King Lear, which Shakespeare seems have completely rewritten himself—the Oxford edition publishes two separate versions of King Lear. Which, then, do you authorize?
· But we're getting ahead of ourselves: Once the fair copy came back from the Master of Revels, the company scribe would divide the prompt script, or, later, the revision prompt script, into sides or parts. Each actor would get his lines and his cue lines and that was it. Again: none of them read the play.So the actors’ sides.
· They would post an outline of the scenes in order backstage to help people figure out where they were in the play they only read in parts—this was theplatte. (This doesn’t sound like a textual source of a play, but if we found a platte for Hamletand found out they didn’t include this scene or that in the performance, that would be informative to preserving the text—yes? So it’s another kind of document.)
· There was probably a one-time sit-down reading of the playat the start of rehearsal,but the actors never saw the whole script---they heard it. This was a listening culture—lots of keen aural memory.
· And at last we get to consider: the performance. Most of these characters, when they refer to a play, mean a memory of performing or watching a performance,with no ghost of a whole script backing it up in their minds. It’s the performance that’s in their minds, its sounds, words, bodies moving, doors opening, swords pulled, a comic dog, a jig at the end, audiences gasping, props hitting the floor—all entirely separate from any comprehensive written text. (So think of a play you were in. What are your strongest memories of it? Are they looking on a page and reading the words? Could you sit down and write out the play? Why would you want to? That’s not what you primarily experienced.) So we have to give credence to the idea that when they say Shakespeare’s plays—they mean words, not written, but flying between actors and striking the ear. Nothing more permanent than that.
And how precisely authentic were those words when performed? We know that these performers kept a number of plays in their head at a time, rarely performing the same play two afternoons in a row. The fact is, the performances must, really must, have diverged from the text. At least some. So once again, which is the text that is meaningful? The one printed or the words in the air, performed that are much stronger in the memory?
· Then, once the play was performed there might be quartos. These were, especially in Shakespeare’s case, pirated texts. Illegitimate. And thank God for them. People who could read—and the English had what was for the time a high literacy rate—liked reading plays, and some minor printers were willing to be careless of the author’s rights and to cobble something together. How? Decide on a play that people seem to be liking. Bribe the prompter for a look at the prompt script. Bribe an actor for his sides. Send a scribe into the performance to have him write down the play as if taking dictation, so he misses a few words, who’s to object? Print them cheaply, and send them out. They were culturally ignored—called “riffe-raffe books,” part of a printing trade that struggled with monopolies, that grabbed at any quick source of a little money. A tossed-off thing.
So you get these quartos, cheap printings, cheap paper, doublefolded and stitched together, of varying quality—traditionally, we call them bad quartos or good quartos. (What’s the standard? Whether they are like the Folio.)
But what if the quarto has an important truth to tell us, reflecting the play in performance? There’s a scene in Romeo and Julietthat cannot be staged on an Elizabethan stage as written (in the Folio)—Juliet has to get from the balcony down to the stage floor and she has no time to do it. In the “bad” quarto, however, there’s a one extra speech for the Nurse during which Juliet can cross downstairs—it solves the problem. If the Folio reflects, let’s say, how the scene was originally planned, and the quarto reflects how it was performed when tried out in the theater—which is the real scene? We think of “Shakespeare” as something written, but in his day? Maybe not. So we actually might need to add these despised quartos to our list as legitimately reflecting Shakespeare—whatever “Shakespeare” means.
· And there were larger pirated publications, as Jaggard did with a handful of Shakespeare’s plays without his permission—Shakespeare was apparently quite angry.
That’s ten forms of evidence: foul papers, fair copy, prompt book, revision prompt book, in-house reading, sides, plot, performance, quartos, larger pirated publication. Incomplete and contradictory records every one of them. And that’s the best anybody ever had.
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