#Challenge: Tiger's Guide to Losing Your Mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tanoraqui · 5 years ago

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Grave dirt baby... 🥺✨

me, procrastinating my actual fic? no... GRAVE DIRT BABY A-YUAN

HEY TUMBLR FUCKED UP ALL MY BULLET POINTS ON THIS THE SECOND I HIT POST BUT IT’S 4AM SO I’M LEAVING IT UP ANYWAY. STUPID GODDAMN WEBSITE.

Wei Wuxian has been in the Burial Mounds for like 2.5 months out of what he doesn’t yet know will be about 3. He’s not even sure he’s going to survive yet. But he has managed to manifest an evil sword - the evil sword - out of the aether/ambient resentful energy/an attunement set with an unwise touch in the belly of an evil turtle

and he does know that he’s not going to survive if he doesn’t get the power of the Burial Mounds under some sort of control

so he cuts his arm and with blood running down the blade, draws something adjacent to the first demon-summoning flag but as an array in the dirt. He stands in the middle and - keep in mind that he more or less hasn’t slept in 2.5 months - plunges the sword into the center, still coated in his blood, and draws in all the resentful energy of the Burial Mounds

was it supposed to go into the sword? Into himself? Into just the single 4ft diameter array area, a column of bound death? who knows, not Wei Wuxian! it’s pure gut instinct

u know what else works on gut instinct, thought? Fairy tales.

And in a fairy tale, why, clay of the earth plus iron enough for a blade plus still-warm blood to show the way...

There’s an implosion and Wei Wuxian is standing - somehow still standing - in a small crater where the array used to be, and his evil sword is plunged into the belly of a baby

He yanks it out in horrified reflex, and realizes a moment later that the baby seems unfazed by this. If there was even a wound, it closes before his eyes, and the glimpse he had showed something more bloody clay than flesh beneath the skin

the iron sword crumbles as he pulls it away, as though rusted a thousand years. the baby turns its head from the iron shavings that falls on it, but then reaches up for Wei Wuxian with a cheerfully demanding cry

he picks it up, of course. (he’d think he was hallucinating if he wasn’t absolutely and utterly aware that he’s not)

it is, as far as he can tell, with physical and spiritual resentful inspection, an absolutely normal baby

oh, except when he looks really closely. Then he can sense the neutron star–dense knot of resentful energy where a golden core might (but will definitely not have room to) form. Also, it can command the dead, and when he holds it, so can he. He’s not sure if it’s a proximity-based power share or if he’s passing his desires through the baby, but even Wei Wuxian, at about 3 months with no food save the rage of the dead and no rest save the promise of final release, has to stop investigating at some point. He has things to do!

specifically, he has Wens to kill

so instead of the iconic shot of the dark flautist in the moonlight, we get the dark, uh...man singing a very spooky lullaby to his baby in the moonlight. It is still deeply creepy. It’s a making-it-up-as-he-goes tune based on a Yunmengi lullaby that he certainly learned from neither of his foster parents, and the lyrics are along the lines of, “let them remember what they did, sweet little potato, let them remember why they’re dying”

yeah he’s been calling this child “Little Potato” for 2 weeks

why

is that not how you name a child

sometimes when he’s more annoyed at it, he calls it “Little Radish”, or even less appetizing root vegetables

by the time he walks in, the baby is asleep in his arms and he’s not singing anymore, just letting the dead do his will. This is what Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji see. The subsequent conversation, Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu at their feet, goes like this:

LWJ: Wei Ying. You have a baby.

WWX: Oh, uh...

PLAY DUMB!

WWX: What baby?

NOT THAT DUMB!

WWX: Oh, this baby! Haha yeah. I...found it.

JC: What the fuck

WWX: Yeah, weird, right? Right near the, uh...

LWJ: They said you were in the Burial Mounds

WWX: Yyyyup. Yes that is. I found this baby by the side of the road after I walked out of the Burial Mounds.

JC, briefly too morbidly fascinated to think about either the demonic cultivation they just watched or the fact that he wants to hug his brother like he’s never wanted to hug another being in his life: What did you name it?

WWX: ....

JC, desire to hug intensifying together with exasperation: oh my god

Sometime in the next couple days - after sleeping a bit, maybe - it occurs to Wei Wuxian that his raw instincts were right and things will go very badly for little A-Yuan (his siblings insisted he name it) if anyone finds out that he’s a not-yet-walking, not-yet-talking little neuron star of resentful energy. So he takes the iron shavings that are all that remain of the Stygian Turtle Sword and forges them into a Tiger-shaped Seal. He also carves a bamboo flute, like he’d been thinking about before the whole...baby thing. He loudly proclaims both to be dark and terrible weapons

(it really is helpful. The sword was...kind of A-Yuan’s other parent, after all, in addition to their third partner, the Burial Mounds. Chenqing gives him finer control of whatever stray resentful energy he chooses to pick up, and the Stygian Seal lets him channel A-Yuan’s power at need, even when not touching him. Which is good - a battlefield is no place for a baby)

even if that baby thinks ghosts and ghouls exist to pick him up and rock him or toss him around (babies like to be tossed)

Wei Wuxian puts so many goddamn spirit-repelling charms on that child, and lets it be marked down to the paranoia of a survivor

using whatever resentful energy he picks up is generally more effective, actually. Less strong, but it quickly becomes clear that the way this works does, in fact, involve Wei Wuxian communicating his desires through A-Yuan, or at least A-Yuan has to put up with the loan of power. There’s nothing quite like abruptly losing control of a field of corpses because the baby got abruptly uncooperative with anything that wasn’t barfing

the baby does eat, for the record. As far as Wei Wuxian can tell, he doesn’t actually need to, but once WWX fed him once, when they first left the Mounds, he wanted it all the time

he still takes A-Yuan with him when he can. That is the paranoia of a survivor. A-Yuan is...

“A battlefield is no place for a baby, A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says gently, as he sets out from Carp Tower after another stolen visit, another failed attempt to convince Jin Guangshan off his ass. “And you are...so busy. LanlingJin takes in orphans, you know...”

“A-Yuan...he’s my blood,” Wei Wuxian says quietly. He’s never been good at lying to his shijie

Whatwherewhenhowwho, he’d see on her face if he was looking at it. But he isn’t. It’s not shame, though, she can see (it really never is, with Wei Wuxian). Fear of disappointing her, slight resignation...but mostly acceptance. Determination. Something almost like contentment.

(When Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangj first took him back to whatever resembled a base camp - somewhere in Qinghe, probably, or maybe Lanling - he had to let a trained healer look at A-Yuan, physical and spiritual examination, and he held his breath and calculated how many people he’d have to kill to get out of here, how fast he’d have to move to not hurt his brother or any particular friends; thought, oh, he’s mine, in a way he hadn’t before - as a child, a son, not just a very strange weapon -

“He’s quite healthy,” said the doctor, mildly surprised, bouncing A-Yuan on one knee. A-Yuan gurgled happily. “About three months old?”

the longer Wei Wuxian took to answer, the more disapproving her stare got. But that did make sense)

Then all else can be dealt with later. “You should still leave him here,” Jiang Yanli says firmly. “You need to look after yourself and A-Cheng out there. I can look after A-Yuan.”

It takes a bit under two years to win back the lost and burnt territories, scour the Wens out of every crevice, corner Wen Ruohan in his precious Nightless City and bring it tumbling down. Nobody will know the timing but A-Yuan sleeps through the final battle, smiling at dreams that would make a grown man weep in horror. Somewhere, his father is playing a lullaby

About a week later, Jiang Cheng stalks into Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, which he shares with A-Yuan. One of the first rooms rebuilt in the new Lotus Pier. A-Yuan is there, too, playing with blocks while Wei Wuxian idly drafts talismans

“A-jie said the kid is yours,” he says, crossed arms. “Like, yours-yours. When the fuck did you do that?”

(Wei Wuxian has thought about this, by now; gone over the pros and cons of every possibility, the politics and potentials and maybe even the giddy possibility of telling something like the truth)

(the guiding principle is: he has no interest in drawing on the “Stygian Tiger Seal” ever again. The Sunshot Campaign is over. His loved ones are safe, and he sees no reason why they shouldn’t all live long, happy, normal lives)

(also/though, he will burn Jin Sect, Carp Tower, and all of Lanling to the ground before the new Chief Cultivator should touch his son)

“In Caiyi,” he lies. “Right before I got kicked out. I, uh, snuck out a lot more often than you noticed.”

His brother squints at him suspiciously. But Wei Wuxian can also watch him do the math in his head and reluctantly admit that it works.

“So are you claiming him or what?” he challenges. “’Wei Yuan’? You have a courtesy name - wait, no, you are not naming that kid again. You’re going to make his courtesy name be Carrothead or something.”

“Should I let you pick it, oh wise and noble shidi - no, shushu?!” Wei Wuxian teases, as A-Yuan gets tired of his blocks and starts climbing up him like a jungle gym

Jiang Cheng sighs like the north wind - gusting long and hard, with just the faintest chill to suggest that the skies will be weeping, soon

But...

Despite some evidence to the contrary, Wei Wuxian is generally fully aware of when he’s about to cross a line that cannot be backtracked over. So he meets Wen Qing in the city, and before going to Lanling, he nips into Lotus Pier and picks up A-Yuan

He might leave A-Yuan with Wen Qing in the city when he goes to Glamour Hall, but Qiongqi Pass happens with a toddler watching silently from Wei Wuxian’s hip. Does Wei Wuxian tell him to look away, bury his face in baba’s shirt, or does he not bother, knowing the sort of song that makes up A-Yuan’s sweet dreams?

The Wens become the second through 51st or so people who learn what A-Yuan is. Wei Wuxian briefly considers trying to hide it, but, honestly, there are dead things everywhere on the Burial Mounds, and despite his genuine efforts, he cannot convince A-Yuan that a fierce corpse is anything but the ideal patty-cake companion. (They’ll play with him for hours! It’s a two-nearly-three-year-old’s dream!)

(he doesn’t want to convince him, not really. The last thing he wants to do ever is give A-Yuan anything to be scared of)

nor could he possibly wish that A-Yuan not be...obviously hale and hearty, running rosy-cheeked and strong around these hills of death that slowly seep the energy from any humans, animals, or even sturdy root crops

“So, uh, this is actually my demon baby,” said Wei Wuxian as they all settled in

“this day has been so weird already, this might as well goddamn happen”, said the Wens collectively

“You created a living child out of dead earth, so I’m going to take that as a yes that you can bring my brother back,” said Wen Qing specifically

“...fuck. I mean, yes. I mean - fuck,” said Wei Wuxian. “I- of course I will.”

(it doesn’t work like that, though)

The 52nd person to find out what A-Yuan is is Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian very much does not tell him. They have a pleasant toy-shopping trip and lunch in town, and then the alarm talisman goes off and Wei Wuxian grabs A-Yuan and Lan Wangji tugs them both onto Bichen and when they arrive, Wen Ning is roaring. Lan Wangji knows what’s important; he takes A-Yuan so Wei Wuxian’s hands are free and he doesn’t have to worry about his son

except Wen Ning, black-eyed with rage, throws Wei Wuxian into a tree hard enough to crack a rib, and even as Lan Wangji raises Bichen, A-Yuan shouts,

“Uncle Ning, stop!”

and Wen Ning stops

(as a rule, Wei Wuxian can’t take over with himself and Chenqing anything A-Yuan is controlling, unless A-Yuan lets him, and vice versa. To eliminate variables, Wei Wuxian had made sure that any reins on Wen Ning were his (Wei Wuxian’s) alone. But in that moment, before Wen Ning came fully back to himself, his reins were swinging free - and they were back within the bounds of the Burial Mounds, where A-Yuan was always strong)

and Lan Wangji puts several pieces together at once and prays to every single god in heaven and every ancestor he’s disappointing right now that this was a miracle of love and a very cute child piercing through a fierce corpse’s mindless rampage. That he simply...hallucinated the burst of resentful energy he just felt from the child in his arms

but he’s absolutely, utterly aware that he didn’t

Wei Wuxian explains, stilted and awkward at the bottom of the hill. Challenging and terrified. Holding on to A-Yuan.

Lan Wangji promises to keep the secret.

Wei Wuxian takes Hanguang-jun’s word

Remember, oh, remember, that Wei Wuxian walks A-Yuan back up the hill until A-Yuan gets tired and Wei Wuxian picks him up, on their one-and-a-half–man plank bridge through the dark. Remember remember remember that before he can finish speaking that line, there is light - the clearing is lit with lanterns and secret-keepers 2 through 51, and I suppose 53 now that Wen Ning is awake, are waiting with dinner and warmth and welcome. Reader, remember this.

But then...

Aunt Qing and Uncle Ning had gone, and then, with a terrible expression on his face, so had A-Yuan’s baba. Now his baba’s anger and sadness is so strong that the weight of it makes A-Yuan cry from hundreds of miles away, and he curls into Granny’s arms and sends his baba everything he can. Will everything be okay, then? Will everyone come home; will they be able to smile again?

(oh, A-Yuan...)

(No.)

A-Yuan - Wei Yuan, Little Potato (when he’s good for baba or bad for Aunt Qing) or Little Radish (inverse); one day to be Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui - was born in the good old fairy tale way of earth and iron and blood. It’s a hard thing for any child to lose even a single parent - in one day, in one minute, A-Yuan loses two of three, as the father of his blood burns away in hand the last shreds of Stygian iron, and promptly loses control of his own resentful energy

(the Tiger Seal does nothing like explode, in this world. It was never more than a prop - but a vital one. the benefit of proving it destroyed would be worth the loss of a parent, if only a second didn’t follow on its heels)

A-Yuan has been a dead thing (or close enough) come to life all his life, and both dead and living have been his friends and family. But he’s never felt the transition the other way: from life to death

It’s no wonder, really, that he can’t remember it afterward. No wonder that even on the land that was the last part of him, he was feverish and barely conscious when Lan Wangji stumbled, bleeding, off of Bichen, and took in his arms. No wonder that he remembered very little at all, including the dead.

But he would be okay. Under physical and spiritual inspection, he’s a perfectly normal boy. He may not be able to form a golden core (there's something in the way), but there are...workarounds. He’ll grow up in one of the most heavily spiritually warded enclaves in the world, safe and loved as he relearns (mostly in secret) what he can do

(For the sake of this story, and A-Yuan’s survival as something close to canon, let’s say there are some truly dark things in the forbidden section of the Lan Library, that could only be used for nefarious purposes - though, I suppose we already knew that. Let’s say there are talismans that will disguise the very nature of qi, so resentful energy may appear spiritual. Let’s say, Lan Xichen becomes the 53rd to know the truth, because his brother needs help - and it’s Wei Wuxian’s child, okay? It’s just Wei Wuxian’s child, quiet and unsure rather than laughing as he always was. If you were in the inner circle of leaders of the Sunshot Campaign, you have absolutely met this child, probably held him and bounced him on one knee)

(What keeps Lan Xichen up at night isn’t the concealing amulet he helped his brother make, which Lan Yuan wears at all times around his neck. It’s the silence he keeps every time he meets Jiang Wanyin’s eyes over a diplomatic table. If anyone had the right to know Wei Yuan survived... But Sandu Sengshou killed Wei Wuxian, everyone knows that, and now he hunts demonic cultivators - what might his pride drive him to do to his nephew, if he ever learned the truth? (Selfishly, Lan Xichen know that if Lan Wangji lost A-Yuan, even just to living at Lotus Pier, Lan Xichen might lose his brother. That fear ebbs with time passing, but the the longer he hasn’t spoken, the worse it would be to do so...))

They don’t restrict Lan Yuan to the Cloud Recesses, no more than any other novice. For memory of their mother, neither of them could bear that. Jiang Cheng does eventually see him at a conference, and stops dead. Years have passed, but that is an entire goddamn nephew, right there. But - how? No, it can’t be. That’s...everyone knows Lan Wangji hated Wei Wuxian. It’s just...and someone would have told him. The Lans value propriety above all, after all.

Anything that can be done with spiritual cultivation can be done with demonic cultivation, save heal. Lan Sizhui makes up for it with an encyclopedic knowledge of undead and monsters, and a prodigal talent for Inquiry

On their first night hunt, the young juniors face ghosts. Unfortunately, this is when Lan Jingyi learns that he’s terrified of ghosts. He’s hiding behind Lan Sizhui and panic is contagious, and the senior accompanying them is in a different room of the abandoned house, and Lan Sizhui forgets that he’s holding a sword and just shouts, “Stop! Go away!”

the ghost, of course, obeys

Lan Jingyi peeks out form behind him. “Did- did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Lan Sizhui admits (except that he’s absolutely sure he did)

There’s another flicker of movement, just the wind blowing ashes but Jingyi whips around with wild eyes. “Can you do it again?”

[friendship. my point is, he’s a demon baby but he has family and friends who love and accept him.]

And one day, some absolute fucking morons are going to bring him back home, where he can never be anything but strong, and threaten his friends and family? And the threat is an army of his old playmates, commanded by an attempt at recreating some combination of Chenqing and the Tiger Seal? He couldn’t manage it in Yi City, but now A-Yuan, Wei Yuan, Lan Sizhui stands on earth that has never stopped being part of him, or maybe he’s never stopped being part of it. If he closed his eyes he could feel every foot on it, living and restless dead. And they’re threatening his baba - who he remembers, as the earth remembers its old partner, even though the blood is changed - and his father Hanguang-jun, and his extended family and friends?

No.

#lyratalus #mdzs #the untamed #ficlet #lan sizhui #wei wuxian #uh who else is here #must i tag them all? don't wanna #my fic #hmm need the speaker for the dead variant to get more childhood stuff; they're similar there

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the-wintershade · 5 years ago

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burning like hell | ruthless!connor

pairing: ruthless!connor x reader summary: you use everything he’s taught you, every trick in the book, but he never taught you how to have a heart. wc: 2.1k+ genre: angst, intensity, conflicted connor

Move. Push. Don’t stand still. In. Out. In. Out.

Your body moved with a vigor beyond its own. Whatever force, whatever pull that has kept you alive till now, refused to let you die, its fist seizing the string that held your livelihood with a remorseless fury. You will not die today, not as long as you have breath in your body. It whispered its determination in your ear as the thunder of your feet echoed annoyingly off the walls.

Except it wasn’t a force, more like a living entity. The apparition raining down its ferocity without sparing a drop of repentance, without losing a second of sleep at night, because the truth was, it didn’t sleep. Sleep was a mortal flaw for all living things, but it was not alive, it was a force of nature and nature never slept.

The soundwaves of your foot falls jumping into your ears made a cacophony of sound, enough that you were certain multiple hunters would begin their ravenous prowl any minute. What you were able to do was a miracle. A heavenly granted action of mercy as it saw your anguish, your pain, your agony and it could no longer bear hearing your groans and screams throughout the night.

You felt the same.

Breaking out of the cell was the easy part. Making it out of the fortress, on the other hand, would prove to be more challenging. It was a maze full of infinite proportions and mirages of every kind.

You would forfeit any chance of retaining mental fortitude before escaping and afterward, you were unlikely to recognize the monstrosity staring back at you. Your own name would sound like a like a language you were forbidden to understand.

But you kept running, sprinting, pushing. Hoping that your time and your desire to make it out alive would not dwindle as your body pumped liquid nitrous down your veins. It’s the only thing keeping you from collapsing, the only thing between life and something far grievous than death itself.

The voice of fate rang through the alabaster walls but your feet refused to wait any longer. They’ve known patience as much as they’ve known the ground. They readily denied its name with fervor. “You’re not getting anywhere little bird.”

Like hell. “There’s nowhere you can hide from me — no matter how hard you run those pretty little feet through the halls.”

A scream pounded on the back of your throat. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Hope is a light brightest in the dark and you refused to let the howling gale burn this light out. It was what you were running for, what was keeping your livelihood alive.

It was what gave you faith that prompted you to throw yourself over a banister and down a story to the floor below without so much as a whimper.

Could the landing have been better, oh absolutely, but from the buzzing singing through your blood vessels didn’t let you dwell on your sloppy landing for too long. You had to move faster; you didn’t know when your storm of freedom would tear through the building and no force of any kind would keep you away from liberation.

A deadly sound yanked your ear back to your surroundings - the cocking of a gun. They’re closing in and they’ll spare you no expense.

Move. Push. Don’t stand still. In. Out. In. Out. Your breathing regulated itself as you slipped through another door as a piece of metal deflected off it. A metallic cling hurtled after you.

These men are faster than you, stronger than you, and know more about the facility than you will be familiar with, but you will not under any circumstances let them get the better of you.

The cadence of the words charging through your mind gave a steady beat to cling to, a tempo similar to the drum of your feet pounding down the stairs and through the exit door before the others could hope to pursue you.

You gave a sigh of relief, for waiting in front of you with a look of steel laced with a deadly poison was your force of nature, your hurricane, your tempest, here to save you, to deliver you from the evils of this institution. Of course, it was a scouting mission and you planned on getting captured, but the horrors of it all were far more critical than what you had ever dreamt it.

The candle of hope burned brightly, its renewed strength fueled by the man standing in front of you.

The prowess with which he stood was enough to make you shiver and foster the desire to get as far away as possible but you knew this tiger had been tamed. No lion would harm you today. You were a dove soaring above the chaos of the world and he was the wolf, hungry, voracious, insatiable - conquering life and death.

His obsidian-colored eyes scrutinized your appearance, his nose wrinkling at the sight of blood. The depth with which his eyes held was vastly infinite and in these boundless expanses, sympathy could not be salvaged. It was not feasible.

Out of breath and slightly dazed, you slurred out the phrase, “You’re here.”

With no inflection in his tone, he replied, “Where are they?”

Of course, his concern never surrounded you, didn’t pay attention to how many blood splatters reside on your grey jumpsuit, or how the bruises on your face marred your features, or how your wrists and arms were littered in cuts or how bloodshot and pallid your eyes and face were.

He never stopped to consider how human you were, as if the flaws you sustained could be revised and transfigured into something better, something superior, something elite.

Your face hardened like magma exposed to open air -- or in this case, the truth -- as you quickly recalled who you were speaking to. “Two minutes from opening that door.” You huffed around his figure, not pausing to see if his eyes trailed your movements. “I suggest we move.”

Your feet started down the hallway before he slipped out his gun and grasped your arm. “Stay behind me.” Orbs boring into yours, you were at the mercy of his will. His gaze kept you captive, held you prisoner -- although you weren’t sure if it was against your will. His hand left a trail of warmth down your exposed forearm as he moved you behind his fortress of strength.

In a fury of chaos and destruction, he managed to shoot five officers with three bullets and a defining “crack”. He moved like a dancer jumps around the stage; with grace, poise, and determination.

Easily sliding under his next opponent, his hand ripped their feet from under them, their heads smacking against the ground. A chop to the neck was enough to stun them and a bullet finished the job.

You tried to help, landing a jab or two when you could, but you were no match. No of skill, confidence, or aptitude. You were fragile and weak, he was inhuman and strong. In all aspects, you didn’t even possess the faculty to outdo him, he would always outdo you.

Watching the smooth precision of which his strikes were completed, it was no wonder he came back unscathed. He would never waste more energy than what was required and if he could take people down with a throat punch and a slamming hit to the head, then that’s what he would do.

Another five fell within exactly 20 blinks of your eye.

The fluidity of battle was similar to watching a ballerina pirouette — stunning and fast. He moved liked lightning and walked like thunder. He was every part of the storm, the wind, the rain, and the danger. He was a force of nature and nature never slept.

A click caught your attention. Looking towards it, you spotted a shooter, his gun level with Conor’s forehead. Planting your foot you ran. You swung. Your fist connected. A groan racked through the man. He caught your second swing. He turned you around. His gun was now pressed in your temple. His hand clamped around both your wrists which fit comfortable between his big warm paws.

“Move and she dies.” Your captor yelled over the noise of another body falling. Why couldn’t you listen to Connor? Why did you have to care so much? Why did you try to help? The overwhelming desire to keep him as far from death as possible overrode every logical idea you’ve had.

It would be your downfall.

The wolf paused, chest heaving, keeping his firearm aimed at a fatal artery near the neck. “What makes you believe I care if she lives or dies?” The monotone pitch of his voice was like a slap to the face. His gun moved slightly, aiming for the shoulder. Your heart fell to the floor. Connor, your lips uttered but no sound came out. Connor.

“You’ve torn through ten of my best soldiers in three minutes, I have a feeling you’d like her still breathing.” His grip on your hair tightened but you refused any sign of discomfort to rule your features. Instead, you locked your jaw, setting your teeth in place.

You knew better than to test the wolf but he didn’t. Something moved in those voids that we called eyes, rage, fury, and something warm, something touching, something that could only be considered a weakness.

Another flaw and another chance of failing a mission, another thing Connor and the division drilled into you. Connor deviated from the normal operating procedure, something you’ve never seen him do.

What’s wrong with him?

His eyes flickered to you before moving to the man's shoulder, his fingers curling around the trigger, flirting with the bullet in the chamber. A breath echoed through the room as you watched his eyes darken, slant, and move into focus.

“You’ve got five seconds to drop the gun. 5...4-”

Hot, sticky blood flew over the sides of your face and your arm as you collapsed to the ground with your now dead captor. Being pulled upright, Conor wrenched you off the ground. “I told you to stay behind me.” He muttered through clenched teeth.

“He was going to shoot you. Do you think I would have let you die?” You fired back, annoyed at his tone.

He didn’t answer.

The walls flew by as he dragged you along, roughly guiding you through the labyrinth of corridors and hallways that were beyond you in every sense. Not letting you have an opportunity to cry or freak out or numb yourself, you were already outside, waiting for your pick up. “Connor.”

The wolf was on the hunt and would not answer to his name, only determined on getting you to your safehouse. His eyes scoured the road for a black SUV. “Connor.”

“Connor.” His black eyes snapped to yours with irritation. You pushed anyway, trying to see a hint of, a fleck, a speck of remorse, of humanity. “You could have talked him down, why kill him?”

“He was going to kill you.” His answer was curt and final like his decisions. No room for argument or debate, unless you made some.

“And?”

He inhaled sharply and stepped noticeably closer, the front of your shoes almost touching. “Do you want to die?” His eyes were ablaze, the first indication that he felt anything, until now, you weren’t sure. “He would have killed you. Blood pouring out of you freely, no breath filling your lungs, no --” He took a breath looking away.

“It was you or him.” His voice as hard as steel.

You craned your neck, trying to get his attention. Finally, you put your hand on his sharp jaw, feeling the bone curve into the soft skin of your hand. Visibly startled, he locked his sights on you. “Why?” The words fell almost silently off your lips.

Stepping closer, his sights moved to your slightly parted lips and your warm, loving eyes and how you were open and vulnerable and -- he leaned down, his bottom lip centimeters from touching yours. It was if the universe conspired with you in this moment, making room for something that it knew was there, only waiting for it to be unleashed.

Suddenly, he jumped away, “No. No.” He whispered, eyes drawn to a close. He refused to unfasten the locks preventing from them from opening, preventing them from gazing back at you.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” You rushed, but it was too late, the car pulled around the corner and Connor was already walking away, shoulders bent, head down and body language dejected.

There was no goodbye, no phrase of gratitude, no knight and shining armor speech given. Just a whisper of the future and a reminder of the past. As the door shut behind you, you sat there numb, paralyzed, frozen.

Fate did not play your hand and as you drove further away, the candle of hope sputtered before it died completely — never to come back to life.

#ruthless!connor #ruthless connor fic #connor x reader #connor fic #connor angst #ruthless!connor fic #ruthless!connor angst

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stuckonstarker · 5 years ago

Text

Storm

| NFF | Rough Sex | Light Degrading |

Hope you enjoy !! I spent like 5 hours on this sleep-deprived last night lmao oof

Peter looked outside, the lightning sliced across the sky, thunder rumbled through the ground, and the wind whipped through the air, making a loud woosh. The lightning looked like a strobe light against the dark gray clouds, occasional flashes of purple peeked through the blinding white lightning.

Peter was enraptured with the fierce beauty of the storm. It made adrenaline rush through his system. His spidey-sense sent shudders through his entire body. He was so preoccupied with the storm that he didn’t notice Tony approaching from the darkness.

“Hey,” Tony said, “we can bunker down in my lab.”

Tony’s voice made Peter jump. He turned to Tony with wide eyes: “I didn’t see you… what?”

“I asked if you wanted to come to the lab,” Tony said.

“Oh,” Peter said, “yeah.”

Tony gave Peter a reassuring smile. Peter trailed behind Tony like a lost puppy

The lab was sound-proofed, it served to soothe Peter’s erratic spidey-senses. He could still hear the muffled roar of thunder through the sound-proofing, though - damn enhanced senses - but of all the rooms in Tony’s house, the lab was the most secure. That thought pacified Peter’s worries. He sat on his stool - the one that Tony specifically bought for him because it was blue. Peter smiled at the memory.

“So,” Tony said, sitting on his stool next to Peter, “what’s hanging, dude?”

Peter smiled, “Don’t call me dude, dude.”

“Have it your way,” Tony said then winked.

Peter’s heart did a backflip. He asked, “Do you think the storm will be over soon?”

“Soon, maybe 3 hours at the most,” Tony said, “that’s the worst-case scenario, though, I’m sure it won’t be that long.”

“What should we do in the meantime?” Peter asked, “Do you have anything we can work on?”

Tony shook his head, “Nothing we can work on now. Besides, you look too… spooked to work, we should just relax.”

Peter laughed, but he was suddenly hyper-aware of his entire body shaking. The more he focused on stopping it, the worse it got.

Tony said, “It’s okay to be afraid, Peter.”

“I’m not afraid,” Peter said, “but my spidey-sense is just… acting up, I guess.”

“Would a drink help?” Tony asked, half-joking.

Peter shook his head, “I don’t drink. And, probably not.”

“I’m here for you,” Tony said, laying a comforting hand on Peter’s knee.

The hand was definitely a paternal act of affection, definitely. But Peter’s mind wandered down a dark, dirty rabbit hole. Peter imagined Tony’s hand snaking higher and higher up his leg, rubbing circles into his thigh. Tony’s other hand cupping Peter’s cheek, guiding their lips together. Peter’s vision blurred, losing himself.

“Peter,” Tony said, worry peeking through his voice.

Peter jumped, eyes widening, “I’m sorry… did you say something?”

“Can I do something?” Tony asked.

Fuck me

“...No,” Peter said.

Tony pulled back, concern pooling his dark eyes. His stare was intense like he could see every thought that raced through Peter’s mind. They sat in silence. Peter’s enhanced hearing could pick up the muffled sound of the rain beating against the building.

Peter watched as Tony licked his lips, entranced with the movement. It stirred a warm want in Peter’s abdomen. Peter leaned toward Tony, those dark eyes luring him closer. Their eyes were locked and, for a moment, clarity washed over both of them and then they knew.

Peter pulled back.

“Peter…” Tony whispered, “do you need anything?”

Peter opened his mouth to answer when the lights flickered. They both looked up, the lab lights rarely flickered. Peter watched the lights intensely.

Tony said, “If the power goes out the backup generator will start.”

“Tony?” Peter said, looking at him.

“Yeah?”

Peter asked, “Can I have a hug?”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Tony said with a smile, “bring it in then, Pete.”

Tony pulled Peter up into a hug. He clung to Tony, the comfort drowning out whatever lingering anxieties he might’ve had. Peter buried his face into Tony’s chest. It wasn’t fair how safe Tony felt, his sturdy frame and rich, coffee-like smell felt like home to Peter. Tony was wearing a tank top, so Peter took his opportunity to discreetly feel up his biceps.

Tony pulled back partially so that he could admire Peter’s face. His eyes darted around Peter’s features. Tony gently brushed a stray strand of curly brown hair out of Peter’s face. The movement was quick enough, but Peter still felt the phantom touch of Tony’s fingers linger on his forehead.

“You okay now?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded, “I’m better.”

“Good,” Tony said.

Tony tightened his grip on Peter, squeezing him in the hug before jumping away - like Peter had burnt him. Peter looked from Tony’s intense stare down to the stained tiles of the lab.

Peter nodded, “Great.”

Tony’s lips formed a tight line, he looked away from Peter. He looked like he was contemplating something, but before Peter could ask, Tony said: “You seem distracted.”

“Huh?” Peter asked, before the words registered, “Oh, I - um - I… don’t know. Maybe? There are some things on my mind recently, well, not just recently - it’s been a while actually, possibly since I was born - but it’s not important… not that important anyway.”

“If it’s bothering you then I’m willing you wager that it’s pretty important,” Tony said.

Peter sighed, “I mean, it is a little important… but I wouldn’t talk to you about it.”

“Me?” Tony asked. He was actually hurt but covered it up with mock offense; Peter knew that classic Tony Stark move like the back of his hand. Covering up real hurt with fake hurt, playing off his emotions like a joke. Peter had seen Tony use it against all the Avengers, but Tony using it against him hits different.

Peter said, “It’s not you, necessarily, but… I mean, I wouldn’t talk to May about it either, so… It’s just very… teenagery, you know?”

“Sure,” Tony said like it didn’t matter, but he eyed Peter up and down.

Peter felt himself shiver under Tony’s scrutiny. He felt vulnerable when pitted against those predatory bronze eyes. It seemed like Tony could pick out every thought Peter had.

Tony pulled Peter close and leaned down so that their noses were touching. The close proximity made his face heat up. Making direct eye contact with Tony often felt like staring into the eyes of a tiger.

“Peter,” Tony whispered, “you can tell me anything.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Peter said.

Tony asked, “So, you doubt me?”

“I never said that,” Peter said, “but I don’t think you’d be a big help.”

Tony laughed, his shark-like grin reflected in his black eyes. Peter felt like a fawn being cornered by a coyote. Adrenaline pumped through his body alongside the arousal that began pooling in his stomach. He looked away from Tony, taking a deep breath he didn’t know he needed.

“Try me,” Tony said, a challenging edge to his words.

Tony grabbed Peter’s hips, pulling him close so that they were flush together. It was like a hug, with Peter laying his head against Tony’s chest, but Tony’s hands were right above Peter’s ass. It sent shivers rocketing through Peter’s body.

Peter whispered, “Tony.”

“Tell me what you need, Peter.”

Peter purred, “I need you, Tony.”

Tony’s eyes darkened, “See, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Tony pushed Peter against the table, Peter’s heart raced in his chest. He looked up at Tony with wide, innocent eyes. He put his palm against Tony’s chest, his hands drifted down to Tony’s toned abs. Tony smirked, the cocky prick, and yanked off his tank top.

Peter stared at Tony, his mouth open in awe. Tony soaked in the silent praise as he pressed Peter into a heated kiss. Peter stumbled, trying to keep up with the rough pace that Tony had set.

Tony pulled away from the kiss just as quickly as he started it. Peter whined after him to no avail. Tony smiled at Peter and licked a stripe up his throat. The wet trail of Tony’s saliva made Peter cling to his shoulders. Tony gently bit and sucked on Peter’s sensitive neck, Tony’s mouth on Peter’s neck sent pleasant shudders through Peter’s weak body.

Peter felt Tony’s hands creeping underneath his shirt.

“Let’s get this stuffy thing off,” Tony said, leaving no room for argument - not that Peter would want to.

Peter nodded, “Yea.”

Tony practically ripped Peter’s shirt off. Tony’s eyes dragged over Peter’s bare torso slowly, taking in each and every detail of Peter’s flushed body. It made Peter aware of how exposed he was to his mentor, which made him all the hotter.

Tony flicked one of Peter’s nipples, making the boy squeak in a mix of shame and pleasure. Peter went to cover himself from Tony’s prying eyes, provoking a low rumble from Tony.

He grabbed Peter’s hands and said: “Keep these on the table, okay? Be a good boy for me, Petey.”

Peter’s mouth opened to say something when Tony’s expression stopped him. He obeyed, placing his palms flat against the table behind him. Tony’s smile turned something sinister at Peter’s compliance. Peter’s entire body felt hot, his face was flushed a rosy pink and sweat began to form on his forehead.

Tony put his hands on either side of Peter’s neck, slowly moving down Peter’s body, tracing his pecs, abs, and the ‘V’ that led to Peter’s cock. Tony’s fingers made Peter’s skin explode with goosebumps. Just his fingertips sent delicious tremors through Peter’s body and straight to his dick. Tony’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. Peter felt his body go fuzzy with desire at Tony’s dark expression.

“Tony,” Peter whispered.

Tony asked, “What do you need, baby?”

Peter whined, his brain refusing to form a coherent answer.

“Aw,” Tony said in a mocking tone, “my baby can’t speak, huh?”

Peter hummed in agreement.

“I’ll take care of you, darling,” Tony whispered, voice rough with lust.

Peter mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Good boy knows his manners,” Tony said as he began to remove Peter’s jeans.

Peter was bare, his entire body exposed to Tony’s darkest desires. Tony gripped Peter’s hips and spun him around so that Peter was laying stomach down on the lab table. Peter’s knees felt wobbly and his mind felt clouded. Peter felt the warmth of Tony leave him. He whined in response.

“I’m just getting something,” Tony said.

Peter felt his wrists being bound together behind him on his back. He was going to be Tony’s. At that, the spark of arousal grew into a wildfire within Peter, making him long for release. He was overheating with desire. It felt like hell, it was amazing. Peter never wanted it to end, but he felt full of a passionate need to be filled.

Peter moaned against the table, his cheek was pressed flat against it so some drool dribbled out. If Peter wasn’t lost in the waves of want he would’ve been embarrassed.

“Such a pretty boy,” Tony said, “but not the smartest, huh? That’s okay, your looks got you this far, right?”

Peter whined in response.

“I’m going to get you ready, love,” Tony said.

Peter felt Tony’s first finger enter him. It was wet and awkward but it made Peter shiver in anticipation. He spread his legs farther, trying to be entirely exposed to Tony - who would take care of him. The second finger entered Peter soon after. It stretched Peter, doing scissor motions inside of him, making sure that he could take Tony’s cock. The sting was dull, practically not even there. The third finger made Peter feel woozy, reality around him fading. Tony brushed against Peter’s sensitive prostate making him moan. It sent sparks of firey pleasure through his veins like lava. Tony kept rubbing against Peter’s sweet spot with his fingers - the jerk was enjoying Peter’s cries of lust.

After finger-fucking Peter, Tony deemed him sufficiently prepared.

Peter’s whine was cut short when he felt Tony’s thick cock placed on his ass. Tony spanked Peter’s ass with his dick a few times, then he rubbed it against Peter’s entrance. Peter moaned, shaking his hips, lecherous desire turning into bratty impatience.

Tony pressed a hand into Peter’s back, a silent warning.

The tip of Tony’s dick entered Peter, he slowly pushed the rest of his long, thick cock into Peter. It stretched Peter wide, making him choke on a pleased cry. Tony’s dick felt massive inside of Peter’s tight heat like it was splitting the poor boy apart. The venomous flames of lust filled Peter with clouded desire to be fucked. He wanted - more than anything he’s ever wanted - to be fucked. Peter was sure that if he didn’t get dicked down he would die.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter moaned, “fuck me, please… oh, please fuck me, sir.”

Tony growled out a laugh, “Cute little slut needs to be fucked, huh? Is that what you need, darling?”

“Yes,” Peter cried, “please! Yes… oh my God.”

Peter’s entire body lurched forward when Tony thrust into him roughly. Peter cried out in pleasure, Tony’s cock hitting his prostate. Peter’s entire body felt like it was aflame, it made him moan. Pleasure shot through Peter’s body mercilessly.

“Is that good, baby?” Tony asked.

Peter moaned, “Yes!”

Tony grabbed a fistful of Peter’s unruly hair and pulled on it. Peter felt Tony’s cock deep inside of him, the endless pleasure blending with the shame making Peter mewl.

“Are you a good little slut?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded, as best he could.

Tony demanded, “Say it.”

“I’m a good little slut,” Peter repeated.

Tony pet Peter’s hair and gently placed him back on the table. Peter moaned as the cool lab table met his face again. Tony grabbed Peter by the hips and thrust inside him again, harder. Peter choked on a moan that could be mistaken for a sob.

Tony fucked into Peter, his cock hitting Peter’s sweet spot repeatedly. Hot lust had swallowed both of them, making them slaves to their lecherous desires. Each thrust sent Peter further to hell, the fires of sin enveloping him with his endless want. Tony’s cock rubbed against his inner-walls perfectly, sending him down a descent of shuddering, mind-numbing passion. Tony fucked Peter ruthlessly, chasing down his own release.

The only thing Peter could feel was Tony’s cock dicking him down relentlessly. Moans tumbled out of Peter without permission. Tony fucked into him, turning him into a cock-drunk whore. Every time Tony thrust into Peter it sent overwhelming waves of ignited pleasure throughout Peter’s entire body. Peter’s mind was stuffed with the mantra: I’m a good little slut, I’m a good little slut, I’m a good little slut.

Tony’s cock forced itself deep inside of Peter, it made Peter scream: “Fuck!”

Tony roughly grabbed Peter’s hair, and fucked into him harder, like a punishment for the swear. Every thrust was purposely meant to make Peter cry out in desperate want. It worked. Peter’s body was dazed with the painful pleasure of Tony’s cock pounding into him brutally. Electric pleasure bombarded Peter’s senses, Tony’s cock was the only thing he could understand. An avalanche of ecstasy buried Peter in immeasurable lust. Every thrust sent a searing flash of pleasure through Peter’s entire body.

A tight coil of molten pleasure tightened and tightened until it could tighten no more, making Peter cry out for release. He could feel it, he could feel it closer and closer, but not close enough.

Peter cried, “Tony… Please… I’m so close, Tony!”

“Good sluts don’t talk,” Tony growled through forceful fucking, “but I’ll let you off this one time.”

Peter moaned, “Thank you.”

Tony’s thrusts became more sporadic, but not any less amazing. Peter’s voice was raw from screaming and moaning, the only noises coming from him were choked gasps of pleasure. Peter’s body tensed, his body shaking with an overwhelming need to finish. Tony slammed into Peter harder and harder, making Peter’s mouth fall open with pleasure, his vision fully blurring. The world around Peter became entirely focused on Tony’s delicious dick.

Tony’s harsh pace made Peter drool some more. He could feel the mind-numbing need to finish in his soul, it was a sweltering pleasure that was insufferable. Every movement was torture to Peter who was desperate for release.

The endless pleasure was suffocating, the tightened coil in his stomach threatening to snap with each brutal thrust of Tony’s cock. Closer and closer, Peter could feel it coming quicker and quicker. He had nothing to bite down on, so his cries of pleasure were completely unrestrained. The flames of lust wrapped itself around Peter, licking him with the sharp flames of sinful desire.

The pleasure, the pain, the searing, overwhelming, endless lust all exploded, erupting like a volcano. Peter came, his raw, fucked out voice screaming incoherent pleas. His entire body was set aflame. Tony fucked into Peter a few more times, Peter letting out little overstimulated mewls each time. Tony came deep inside of him, his hot cum branding Peter like a white-hot iron.

Tony pulled out, cum leaked out of Peter’s abused hole.

“Tony,” Peter whined, voice cracking.

Tony purred, “Sh, babe, I’ll take care of you.”

Peter nodded drowsily, content with that answer. The smoke from sex fogging up Peter’s mind, allowing him to be tranquil. Tony’s grip on Peter was gentle, taking care to be soft when untying Peter. Peter, on the other hand, purred. As long as Tony was around, he felt at ease. Tony would never let anything happen to him.

All of Peter’s limbs were lax and useless, Tony’s grip on Peter’s hips was the only thing holding him up. Tony lifted Peter up bridal style, making a dad noise. Peter snorted.

“What?” Tony asked, voice soft.

Peter smiled, “You’re funny.”

Tony said, “Someone tired?”

“Yea,” Peter said, “where are we going?”

“To clean you up,” Tony said, “but don’t worry about that, sunshine, I’ll take care of the hard parts.”

Peter smiled and nodded, but he was too drowsy to do anything else, so he just allowed himself to doze off. He was sure Tony wouldn’t mind. Tony was just nice like that. In his dreams, he felt like he was being placed amongst an endless blue sky of fluffy clouds.

#starker #nff #max writes

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sunmoonandeddie · 6 years ago

Text

my sweet girl

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 13,561

summary: After WWII, James finds you and rescues you from the rest of the world.

prompt: ‘whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’

warnings: swearing, violence, mental illness

a/n: This was written for @whiskey-cokenfanfic‘s 30th birthday writing challenge! Happy birthday and I hope you enjoy!

“What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

I don’t move from my perch, my head leaning against the cool glass of the bay window. The one I always sit in while I wait for him to come home. The trees are fluttering in the late summer wind, and I can see hints of autumn starting to peek through.

Soon my garden would wither, and I’d have to wait until spring to tend to my beautiful flowers.

I can feel James’s stare from across the room as he sits in his chair. His throne in his little kingdom. If he’s the king in this place, then I suppose that would make me the queen. I have my own little throne in the bay window, with all its pillows. But when he’s home, I prefer to curl up with him in the chair, my legs thrown across his lap and my head tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Sweet girl?”

I turn my head, a little surprised to find his eyes focused on me. “Yes?”

“You’re thinking awfully hard there,” he says, mirth coloring his words. He looks so regal in his suit, his hair nicely coiffed. It’s no wonder that he’s such an important man. “Talk to me.”

Shaking my head, I look back out the window. “Just lost in a daydream, I suppose.”

“Must be some daydream,” he says, the book closing with a resounding snap. His fingers run over his five o’clock shadow as he observes me.

Perhaps he’ll let you help him shave this time.

The brunet leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Now, let’s try this again. What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

“I…” It’s the usage of his favorite pet name that gets me. Because I like being his sweet girl, and sweet girls are honest. But even so, I’m hesitant. “James, do think your friends would like me?”

“Why do you ask?”

I shrug, my hands twisting in the soft material of my dress. The soft cotton feels so nice. Maybe I’d ask him to pick up more fabric tomorrow. It’s been a few days since I’ve sewn anything and my hands were starting to get restless again. “I’m just curious.”

“Don’t you know the old saying?”

“What old saying?” I ask, brows furrowing as I sat up straight. My mind isn’t very sharp anymore and it’s a little frustrating to know that the old me would’ve known what he was talking about immediately.

He’d take the old you to meet his friends.

James rises to his full six feet and my breath catches. His oxfords are almost silent on the hardwood floor as he saunters over to me. The way he takes his sweet time is reminiscent of a jungle cat—a tiger, maybe—stalking his prey. My face always ends up ablaze whenever he does it, the warm spreading from my cheeks all the way down to my toes. “Curiosity killed the cat, kitten,” he says as he sinks down, one knee on the ground.

A light bulb flickers on in my head. “But satisfaction brought it right back,” I say, lips stretching into a bright smile. With my excitement, I momentarily forget about what I was asking. “James, did you hear that? I told you! I’m getting better every day!”

The smile he grants me sends my heart a flutter, because I know it’s the one he only gave to me. No other person in the entire universe gets to see that smile. “Yes, you are, sweet girl. Yes, you are.”

“But…” I trail off, getting quiet once again as I remember my question from before. I am rather surprised that I do. My mind tends to wander more often than not and I can be so forgetful. “Why can’t I meet your friends?” My hands find his, soft digits running over the calloused lines in his skin. When asking such questions, I’ve learned to be touching him in some way or another. It soothes him. “Are you ashamed of me?”

His eyes simmer as he squeezes my hands. “Of course not. How could you ever think that?”

“I… I watch you leave every day for work, and you always tell me all of your stories about your friends,” I say, eyes dropping once again. If I upset him, I don’t want to be looking into those deep blue eyes. Seeing him upset just makes me upset and that never goes over well. “And I just sit here at home. None of my stories are interesting, and—”

“I find your stories incredibly interesting,” James insists. The setting sun beaming in through the window sets his face ablaze. He’s still got his tan from all the time we’ve spent outside this past summer and I do hope that it’ll stay into the winter. “I always love listening to you, sweet girl.”

“But none of them are any good!” Despite the fact that I’m verging on whining, I can’t bring myself to care.

“What about the one about the bird that got into the house? And you had to chase it around with a broom?” He says, his thumbs gently massaging my hands as they rested in his. “And I love hearing about the books you read. Like The Little Prince and Gone With the Wind.”

I still find it hard to believe, though it’s becoming easier and easier. But then again, I’d believe anything he said as long as he keeps looking at me like that. Like I’m something precious. “Really?”

“You’re an excellent storyteller. Put all mine to shame,” he says, a soft grin spreading across his face. “My friends won’t ever be half as interesting as you.” He presses a gentle kiss to my nose, smirking as I dissolve into giggles. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you more, James,” I say, as all my questions from beforehand are forgotten.

And to be quite frank, I can’t even remember why I asked in the first place.

“—just like this,” James said as he guided my hand. His chest is pressed against my back, his left fingers splayed against my stomach.

It felt good to be touched. I hadn’t been touched in a nice way in so long, and all of his touches were nice. Every time he reached out for me, I immediately leaned into it, whereas with anyone else I might’ve flinched away.

I stared at the royal blue stripe of paint that was now on the otherwise white wall of the master bedroom. “Are you sure you like this color?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I was still a little unsure of where I stood with him, what my role in this house was. “We can still pick another one if you don’t.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he guided my hand once again, painting another thick stripe of paint on the wall. “Sweet girl, I told you that I love this color.” His warm breath tickled my ear. “And this is your house just as much as it is mine. You get to decorate it however you want, remember?”

I nodded, a faint smile lifting my face. “Yes, James. I remember.”

“So tell me, Y/N. What does your dream bedroom look like?” He asked as his cheek pressed against mine. His two day stubble scratched against my soft skin.

Not that I minded.

Any touch from him felt so good.

“There’d be a four-poster bed with a canopy made of white silk. Like the ones I read about in books. And there’d be an ottoman at the end of it,” I said, my mind trailing off as I stared at the newly bought paintbrush in my hand. “All of the wood would be mahogany. And I’d have a vanity. There’d be a piano beside a window so I could play while looking out at whatever view there is. Though I’d prefer a forest.” I paused, my eyes hazy. “I always wanted to learn piano, but mama said it was too expensive.”

“What would you play if you had a piano?” James asked, gently bringing me back to reality as he swayed me like a flower in the wind.

“Everything.”

That night, after the room was completely painted and the walls were dry, the furniture back in place, I tossed and turned. Even with the pile of blankets that covered me, I felt so cold.

So alone.

It felt so strange, trying to fall asleep without being able to hear someone breathing close by. During the war and after, there’d always been at least several others sleeping in the same room as me.

And though I barely slept, I couldn’t tell James. He’d already done so much for me and I couldn’t bear to burden him even more with my sleeping troubles.

But I hadn’t slept in two days.

I’d gotten into the habit of just staying awake until I passed out from sheer exhaustion, and yet release wouldn’t come to me tonight.

I stared at the ceiling, taking a deep breath before making up my mind. I couldn’t keep going on as I was. Dark circles were starting to form under my eyes and I could see the way James’s eyes would linger. He could read me like a book and I knew that he could tell something was wrong.

The floor is cold under my feet, sending a chill up my spine as I make my way across the room. The door opens with a soft creak, and I tiptoed down the hall towards the room James was sleeping in.

For the past two weeks, he’d slept in that room, away from me, and it felt wrong. It had been years since I’d slept with him close by, and I wanted nothing more than to feel his body heat.

But he was determined to make me both utterly giddy with happiness and miserable at the same time. He was such a gentleman, always being so proper. He didn’t do anything more than kiss my hand in the two weeks since I’d come.

It frustrated me to no end.

I hesitated when I raised my fist to knock on his door, suddenly losing my resolve. What if he was angry with me for waking him? What if he said no?

You shouldn’t worry him with your issues.

“But he said—”

You don’t want to be more of a burden than you already are.

I stood there for another long moment before turning to head back to my room. But I’m interrupted by the door swinging open, James’s voice calling out, “Y/N?”

I stopped in my tracks, my shoulders tensing.

“Sweet girl?” He murmured, stepping closer to me. His fingers gently wrapped around my wrist, turning me to face him. His hair is mussed, and his words are still slurred with sleep, but his eyes are alert, searching you for answers. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, before shaking my head. “But it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

But his grip on my wrist tightened, stopping me in my tracks. “Hey,” he said as he pulled me back to him. “Talk to me.” When I don’t reply, he adds, “I know you haven’t been sleeping since you got here.”

I just stared at the white tank top that covered his chest, mesmerized by the dusting of chest hair peeking over the neckline. Everyone I knew would be so scandalized if they knew that we were standing there in our pajamas. He wasn’t even in proper sleep clothes, as he lacked the usual button down that would match his silk pants. It was improper, immoral.

But it was thrilling.

He lit a fire in my heart that I hadn’t felt in such a long time. It absolutely terrified me.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed?” James asked slowly, trying to gauge my reaction. We weren’t married, and if being this close while in our pajamas was scandalous, sleeping in the same bed was surely a one-way ticket to Hell.

But I nodded.

A fond smile tugged at his lips as he led me into what was technically the guest room. It was just as bland as the master bedroom, though you knew it was because he’d been waiting to decorate the house until you were there.

I fell into the bed as an angel falls from heaven—knowing that the world would disapprove but not really caring anyway. I knew if my parents could see me at that moment, they’d disown me just for allowing the only man who could ever understand me to wrap me in his arms and lull me to sleep with sweet nothings whispered into my ear.

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed. Despair bloomed in my gut as my hand splayed against the cold spot that James had been in just the night before. The curtains were still mostly shut, though I could see that the sun was almost to it’s high point.

It was almost noon.

You never slept in that long. Hell, you hadn’t slept longer than four hours or so in years.

“—right there.”

I frowned as I heard voices coming from the hall. There were four or five from what I could tell, but I wouldn’t have any true idea until I poked my head out the door.

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, I padded over to the door and cracked it open. Down the hall, a group of men headed downstairs. Once I deemed it safe enough, I creeped down towards the stairwell, wondering if I’d be able to find out what exactly they were doing here.

And also—where James was.

I froze as a floorboard creaked under my weight, though I didn’t hear anyone coming in my direction. I’m almost to the stairs when I glance over at the master bedroom. Its walls are now the royal blue I spent the day before painting it, but that’s not what catches my attention.

It’s the furniture.

With a final glance towards the stairs, I abandoned my earlier quest and found myself standing in the doorway of my room, completely speechless. A long the left wall was a vanity. A mahogany four poster bed was in the center of the room, white silk canopy fluttering in the wind coming from the open window.

And on the right side was a piano.

My mouth fell open in gasp as I stared at the sleek black grand piano that was sitting there like a mirage. The white and black keys shone in the late morning light. It was… stunning.

Why would someone break into the house and leave a piano?

“Do you like it?”

I whirled around to find James standing against the doorway. His face was the picture of calm, but the way his jaw clenched revealed his anxiety. “You…” I swallowed as I glanced back at the piano, almost afraid that it would disappear. “You got me a piano? Why?”

“Because you wanted one,” he said, as though it were obvious.

Shaking my head, I tried to make sense of his words. “Because… What?”

He smiled as he gently guided me across the room, his hand falling to my lower back. The silk of my nightgown felt cool where his hand was. “I told you that whatever you want, it’s yours. Last night, you said that you always wanted a piano.”

“But this is too much. This must’ve cost you a fortune,” I said, but I didn’t fight him as he pulled the bench out for me to sit on.

“Nothing’s too much when it comes to you,” he said. “I have the rest of the furniture coming later today, and I’ll make sure to get you piano books next time I go into town.” His fingers carded through my hair, untangling it as he watched me run my hands over the keys. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I said after a moment.

James raised his eyebrows, knowing that there was a question on my mind. “But?”

“Why are you doing all of this for me?”

“What do you mean?”

I turned to look at him fully, peering up at him. “You’re doing all these things for me. Why?”

He chuckled as if it were obvious, sinking down onto the bench beside you. “Don’t you see?” He asked, brushing my hair back from my face. “I’m in love with you.” His eyes flickered to my lips and back. “And I will spend the rest of my life taking care of you.”

My days are filled with gardening and books, exploring the estate even though I have found every possible nook and cranny, and playing piano. Lots of piano. But most days, I find myself baking. It’s an easy way to past the time and there’s so many recipes in the cookbooks that line the kitchen shelf that I wouldn’t be able to get through all of them in a decade even if I baked every day. James comes home often to find me covered in flour with lips tasting of sugar.

Singing softly, I make my way to the walk-in pantry. The walls are lined top-to-bottom with everything you could possibly want. Except—apparently—for peaches. “Oh, dear,” I whisper to myself, biting my nails as I search the shelves. I thought that James had grabbed some the last time he went to the grocer but perhaps not. He wouldn’t go again until next week unless I ask him, but I want to surprise him tonight.

Well… Town was only a short walk away. Perhaps…

“No.” My hands fist at my sides. “It’s not safe. Remember what James said.”

But James will be so happy when he comes home to a freshly baked peach cobbler.

“But he’d be upset that I left.”

Just be back before he comes home. Town is only a short walk away.

Huffing, I glare at a jar of olives on the shelf in front of me, growing increasingly frustrated with myself. Arguing with myself was horribly exhausting. I can be so horribly stubborn. James says it’s cute most of the time, but I know when I ask questions he can get so frustrated. “But—”

You’d be back in time for lunch. He won’t be home until this evening, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.

“Well,” I say, biting my lip as I glance around. I almost feel like the brunet is going to be around the corner, waiting to pop out and catch me in my act of disobedience. “He won’t ever know I’ve left.”

The air around me seems to shift at my decision. In James and I’s shared bedroom, I take care to open the bedside drawer without so much as a creak. After slipping a few coins in the pocket of my dress, I head downstairs. The front door looms in front of me. A beast waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

And even though I’ve walked through that door many a times, I know that today is different. Before, I was only going to the front lawn. I was lying in the cool grass while reading whatever books James picked up for me.

Now, you’re going to town.

“I’m going to town,” I say, butterflies coursing through my stomach. But with the elation, comes a twinge of fear.

You’ll be home before lunch.

I open the door and carefully step out, taking a deep breath as I look at the path in front of me. “Just follow the road, Y/N. Just follow the road.” With the door shut behind me, I take purposeful steps down the drive. My heels click steadily on the pavement and a grin takes over my face. “Follow the yellow brick road,” I sing softly, hands swinging by my side. “Follow the yellow brick road. Follow, follow, follow, follow. Follow the yellow brick road.”

My voice joins with the birds’ as I make my way to town. If I close my eyes for just a second, I can imagine that I’m in a blue and white gingham dress with ruby red slippers, a tin man, lion, and scarecrow at my side.

“We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz.”

The walk to town only takes about thirty minutes or so, but my feet are already beginning to ache. I’m not used to walking in my heels on uneven ground.

The closer I get to where the forest ends, the more anxious I get. As the trees thin out, I find I’m no longer protected from the sun’s harsh rays. My dress is starting to stick to my skin and it’s not the most comfortable thing. Buildings are starting to peek through the trees. Cars are rumbling just up ahead, and it sounds like a monster waiting for me to get closer so it can gobble me up.

Steeling myself, I roll my shoulders back. “We’re certainly not in Oz anymore,” I say before continuing on.

As I walk down the main road, I find my resolve breaking with each person I pass. Their stares make me feel like a spectacle even though I am nothing more than a stranger to them. My hands are beginning to tremble with each step and I hide them in the fold of my dress.

They’re whispering about you.

“Stop it,” I say as my eyes roam the buildings. My eyes light up as I see ‘Harrison’s Grocer’ painted in bright red letters across the top of the building just a little more down the road. “They’re just not used to strangers.”

Maybe it would’ve been better if you had stayed home.

A little bell chimes above the door as I walk in, blushing as everyone in the building turns to me. I nod at them before moving to stand behind the counter.

“Excuse me.”

I’m a little surprised to find a man standing beside me, his eyes ablaze. “Hello,” I say slowly before turning back to look at the produce that lines the walls. Even though I made it to town, my goal is to talk to as few people as possible. I haven’t talked to people other than James for over three years now.

He got you out of that dreadful place and now look at you. Disobeying him.

“You can’t just cut in line,” the man snarls, shocking me enough that I take a step back. The mean look on his face just makes him look even uglier than he already is, with his beady eyes and receding hairline. His breath reeks of tuna.

He’d make a very good villain in a story book.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, eyes widening as I look between him and the two people behind the counter. They seemed to be on the man’s side as they watched me with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t see you.”

He elbows me out of the way, making a point to stand right where I had been, before continuing on telling the grocer what he needs.

James warned you about people like him.

“Shut up,” I huff, glaring down at the ground.

And he was right.

“Excuse me?” The man in front of me whirls around, his eyes feral. His face is getting more and more red and the way his hand is raising terrifies me.

He’s always right.

“I-I was just talking to myself!” I say, rushing to calm down the situation. The other people inside the grocer have gone deathly silent, watching me cower. “I’m sorry!”

The man sneers before snatching the brown bags from the counter. The door slams behind him as he storms out, and it’s quiet for a few moments before everyone resumes what they were doing.

“How can I help you, my dear?” The man behind the counter asks. With his glasses sliding down his nose and his sparkling eyes, he looks very much like what I imagine everyone’s grandfather looks like. I believe mine did, at one point.

He’s probably just as wicked as the man before.

“I-I just want some peaches,” I say, my voice trembling as I dig out the coins in my pocket. They cling softly against the counter and I slide them towards him. “As much as this will buy.”

The middle-aged man’s eyes get as wide as saucers as he looks down at the mess of coins. “This is… This is far too much.”

“I just want some peaches,” I say, my throat tightening. “Please? I want to make a peach cobbler to surprise my husband.”

He must see my panic, because he nods before taking one singular coin. “One bushel of peaches.” The rest are pushed towards me, and I smile as I slide them back into my pocket.

I’m not quite sure how big a bushel is, but my heart stutters as I see the large crate that is placed before me. It’s overflowing with perfectly ripe peaches.

“Do you need someone to help you?”

“No!” I swallow, willing my heart to not beat so rapidly. He seems shocked by my outburst, and I quickly try to cover myself. “I-I can handle it.” I have to stand on my tiptoes to grab the large crate, almost dropping it as I pull it off of the counter. “Thank you!” I call out to the man before pushing my way out of the grocer.

The street is still as lively as ever when I get outside, though I don��t look around as much since I’m too busy trying to carry the peaches. The wood digs into my delicate hands and I know that I’ll end up having at least a few splinters.

You made a fool of yourself in there with that man.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I murmur, rolling my eyes. I’m having to take small, decisive steps down the sidewalk. Sweat is starting to from along my brow and my only reprieve from the summer heat is the cool breeze. “The grocer was nice, at least.”

But now you have to carry that crate all the way up the hill.

I bite my lip as I look down at the yellow-orange fruits. “I’ll be fine. It’s not that long.”

Those men are looking at you.

Frowning, I look up from the peaches and, sure enough, there’s a group of six men staring at me. They’re standing a little further up the sidewalk, leaning against a brick wall. They’re covered in dirt and grime and I can smell the cigarettes that hang from their lips from where I’m standing. My nose turns up at the smell. The cigarettes are cheap, that much is clear. They probably got them from the dollar store.

Thank the Lord James doesn’t smoke those.

“That’s because James has class,” I say softly, thinking about the Cuban cigars he loves so much. “He’d never smoke something so cheap.”

“Where you going, baby?” One of the men calls out to me, and I shrink in on myself.

I know that my husband would never approve of me making myself smaller for other people, but something about those men just screams trouble to me. If the street wasn’t so busy, I’d cross it in order to avoid them.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Ignore them.

“Don’t ignore us.”

Get home. Get home and make your peach cobbler, and everything will be alright.

“Like that dress on ya. Bet I’d like it even better off.”

My skin crawls as I try to walk past them, knuckles white from gripping the crate so hard. Their raucous laughter reminds me of a darker time. Of a time that I don’t like to think about. Ever. I keep my head down, my h/c curls acting as a curtain.

As though you could hide from them.

“I don’t know what to do, Steve,” James says with a soft sigh. His head is pounding and the summer heat isn’t helping. The ceiling fans above aren’t making any difference. “She asked if I was ashamed of her because she hasn’t met my friends.”

His best friend takes a long sip of his scotch, and the brunet’s eyes were drawn to the little drops of condensation that fall down the short glass. “Maybe she should meet us.”

He sputters, disbelief clear on his face. “Have you gone mad?”

“It’s not that strange of an idea!”

“She can’t leave the estate. You know this.”

Steve leans forward, his hands folding together on the table. “What if we came to the estate? Just Peggy and me.”

Their early lunch has already been finished, plates stacked at the end of the table for the pretty waitress to take. She’s young, with lovely blue eyes, but not pretty enough to warrant a second look. They fell silent as she comes around, asking if they want desert before taking the plates and disappearing.

“Come on, Buck,” the blond says, swirling his glass. “Peg and I can come over for dinner some night. Y/N can have girl time with someone who knows the situation.”

James’s suit is feeling stuffier and stuffier by the second. “I just—”

He’s cut off by the sound of shouting outside the window. Across the street, six men are standing in a circle. They’re clearly construction workers, and he briefly remembers that they’re building a new police station downtown.

His heart stops when he gets a flash of h/c curls. He knew that hair.

“Hey, that’s—”

James is up and out of the chair before Steve can finish his sentence, bolting for the door. His own glass of scotch left half-empty on the table.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

I stare down at the peaches as one of the men steps in front of me. I try to step around him, but the others quickly follow his lead and circle around me, effectively stopping me from moving any further.

You shouldn’t have left home.

“Look at the little debutante, all dressed up and pretty,” one of the men says, yellow teeth bared in a sneer. “Where you going so fast?”

“H-Home,” I say, jumping as one of them pinches at my elbow. The others snicker and it seems to encourage him, because he reaches out and pinches me twice more. With each one, I’m sent back a few more steps until I’m bumping back into the man behind me. I quickly step away from him, cheeks reddening. “Pl-Please stop.”

“Aww, come one, baby.”

“We’re just having a little fun, sweetheart.”

One of the men yanks on the crate, and I lurch forward as I attempt to hold onto it. With one final tug, he manages to pull it from me and I stumble forward. The wood scrapes my hands and a yelp falls from my lips. It stings worse than the time I got stung by a bee last summer. I can feel something wet sliding down my fingers and I know without looking that my hands are bleeding.

James is going to know you left. You won’t be able to hide your hands from him.

I gasp as one of the men yanks at the skirt of my dress. The others seem to find this new game funny and their hands twist in the pretty soft yellow silk of my skirt. A ripping sound fills the air and my heart breaks.

There goes your favorite dress.

I let out a cry as one of the men pulls me to him, hands grabbing my ass. My hands push at him desperately, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I hadn’t even realized I had been crying until this moment. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Whatever you want, princess,” he sneers before tossing me to the concrete.

I feel like nothing more than a rag doll as my head bounces off the ground. My ears ring, my movements lethargic as I try to focus on what’s happening. There’s a peach lying a few inches away from me, the fruits spilling everywhere after the crate was tossed to the ground.

A scream rips from my throat and I kick out as a rough hand wraps around my ankle, my skirt falling to expose my legs to the men. The man’s grip is so tight that I’m afraid the bone is going to snap like a twig.

“Nice stockings, baby. Wanna—”

“LET HER GO!”

The oh so familiar voice catches my attention, but I can barely see through my tears. The hand on my ankle disappears and I hear the men running away. My body shakes as a warm hand wipes at my tears and I can finally see who’s kneeling beside me.

James.

My heart hammers as I shoot up into a sitting position. Dizziness overcomes me as I try to scoot backwards, but my husband stops me, hands gripping my shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He asks, checking me over. There’s a sort of desperation lacing his voice. The man winces as he sees the bloody mess my hands have become, the scrapes along my arms from falling to the ground. I can already feel bruises forming along my shoulder blades.

My head alone feels like it’s going to explode.

“Sweet girl, look at me,” he says, hands cradling my face. “Come on, look at me.” My eyes slowly focus, his features becoming clear. “There we go. That’s a good girl.”

Another sob wracks my body as I look at him. He’s being so kind. So, so kind despite the fact that I disobeyed him. I betrayed him and his trust. “I-I’m sorry, James,” I say, voice cracking.

“Oh, darling,” he says, hands brushing back my hair. His startling blue eyes are rimmed with tears as he pulls me into his arms. He doesn’t care that we’re currently in broad daylight and people are staring.

It’s not as though they cared enough to stop those men.

He brings me back as he rocks me carefully back and forth, pressing soft kisses to my hair. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

“Y-You’re not angry?”

Of course, he is, you idiot.

“We’ll talk about it later,” James says with a deep sigh. It’s a sigh that resounds through his bones and makes me feel even more guilty. All he ever wanted was to protect me, keep me safe, and I just had to go out looking for trouble. His strong arms move me so that he’s carrying me, cradling me against his chest.

I close my eyes and wish for the rest of the world to go away. I just want it all to disappear so all that’s left is James and me. I want us to lock ourselves away in our little castle and never go outside ever again. He shouldn’t have to be around such cruel people.

James takes a moment to talk to someone, but I can’t hear exactly what it is, nor do I care to. As long as he keeps holding onto me the way he is, he can do whatever he wants, as far as I’m concerned.

My body shivers despite how hot it is. From where my hand is resting on his chest, I can feel the stickiness of his skin, though it might be the blood from my hands that’s staining the crisp white shirt. “You’re sweating,” I rasp, eyes opening to peer up at him. “I… I will run you a bath when we get home.”

“I think you need the bath more than me, sweet girl,” he chuckles, his chest vibrating against my cheek. He shifts me around so one hand is free, and I feel him open up the door of his car before setting me inside on the passenger seat. “There we go.”

The leather of the car seats burns my skin as he gets in the driver side and turns the car on, but I don’t dare say anything. Not when he’s being so kind, so gracious to me.

Others would’ve cast you out by now.

“But he would never,” I murmur, brows furrowing as I stare out the window. I know that James is listening by the way his fingers grip the steering wheel that much tighter, but he doesn’t say anything as he pulls out of his parking spot and heads for the hill.

But you’re useless. All you do is sit around all day.

“But I… I do things.”

Not much.

The rest of the drive up to the estate is completely silent. My body feels so numb. I can’t even feel the pain in my hands anymore.

We break through the trees and my breath catches in my throat. Even though I live in the house and I see it every day, it’s breathtaking. The white stone is crawling with vines, the windows sparkling in the sun. The lawn is as green as ever, though there’s a little patch where I always sit that’s been permanently trampled down.

James carries me inside and up the stairs, though I hardly register anything that’s happening. I know that I’m falling into my head. I can feel the fuzziness taking over. My mind feels disconnected from my body, as though I’m a million miles away.

Maybe Spain.

Spain would be rather lovely. Every book I’ve read that’s set in the country says so. The Gaudi architecture and the lively colors that make up the gingerbread fairytale. The way the everything blacks out in the afternoon for a mid-day siesta. The language that sounds like a symphony when it falls from the lips.

Yes, Spain is rather lovely, I decide.

I’m carefully set down, gingerly finding my balance as I stand. My eyes are hazy, unfocused as I stare at the ground. Someone moves around me to stand at my back, and I feel my shoulders tense.

It’s when I feel fingers tugging at the zipper on my dress that I snap. A scream rips through the air, and the only reason I know it’s me is because of the sting in my throat. I jerk forward, desperate to get away from the hands that are grabbing at me. Trying to defile me.

You need to get out. Get away.

Hot tears sting my eyes as I bolt for the door. My heels clack against the hardwood floor as I tear down the hall, desperately trying to reach the staircase that I can see up ahead. Maybe if I got there, I’d have a chance of escape.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

I can hear someone coming after me, their footsteps pounding as they begin to catch up. With how heavy their strides are, I can tell that it’s a man.

Another soldier. Another man determined to take what isn’t his.

I push forward, urging myself to go even faster. I’m almost to the stairs when my heel catches on a rug, sending me crashing to the ground. I try to scramble to my feet, but the pain in my ankle is making it rather difficult.

And then I feel him.

Hands grab at my ankles and I let out another bloodcurdling scream, kicking away at my assaulter.

“Y/N!”

The stranger’s weight bears down on me as he crawls up my body. He so easily holds me in place and even though I’m sobbing, I continue to fight with all of my might. “Stop! Stop!” I beg, though I know it will fall on deaf ears.

Invaders never listen.

“Y/N! STOP!” Thick thighs straddle my waist, holding me in place as calloused hands grab at my face. My fists are desperately pounding against a rock-hard chest. “LOOK AT ME!”

My chest is heaving against the constraints of my dress as I look up at the man above me. His face is red, his sea blue eyes filled with so much pain.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s me,” he says, his hold on me keeping me locked in place. “It’s me, James.”

James.

Everything clicks into place, my mind suddenly coming back to me. “James?” I croak, and his face floods with relief.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” he says. He leans over me, his forehead pressing to mine. I can feel his thighs relax as he realizes that I’m back in my right mind. Our breaths mingle together as both of us try to get our bearings. “Nobody’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”

“I… My mind…” I swallowed, my eyes sore from all the crying I’ve been doing. “I did it again, didn’t I? I thought you were—”

A German soldier.

One of the men from town.

“I know,” James says, gently pulling me up so that I’m resting against his chest. His hand carefully runs over my back, soothing the restless pounding in my heart as I come down from my episode. Red blood is stained on his shirt, like his heart is blooming outside of his chest. “Come on,” he murmurs, gently picking me up. “Let’s get you in that bath.”

This time, I allow him to undress me without a peep, the ruined dress falling to the floor like a waterfall. His fingers are shaking as he carefully unhooks my stockings from my garter, the little black line along the back of my thighs disappearing as he rolls them down my legs.

“James, I think my stockings are ruined,” I say softly, eyeing the runs and rips that litter the nylon now.

The former soldier kisses my thigh and a shiver runs up my spine. “I will buy you all the stockings you could ever want, sweet girl.” He nudges me towards the tub. “Let’s get you in, and I’ll take care of your hands. Do you want rose, lavender, or pomegranate oil?” An impish grin spreads across his face. “Or what about olive oil? I can go down to the pantry and—”

“No,” I giggle, feeling some of the tension dissipate at his teasing. “Rose oil, please.” He steadies me as I step into the porcelain tub, sinking into the hot water. It’s perfect, as always.

Because he always knows what’s best for you.

James grabs one of the little glass bottles from the vanity, pouring a generous amount into the water. The sweet fragrance fills my nose as the water soothes my aches and pains from being tossed around like a rag doll. “Hands.”

I let my hands hang over the edge of the tub, water dripping from my mangled palms onto the tiled floor below. A white cloth is gently wiped across my hands, staining red as it cleans out the wounds.

He’s going to yell at you whenever he’s done.

“No, he won’t,” I say, huffing a little as I stare down at my hands, watching as he carefully wraps them. “He wouldn’t.”

“Sweet girl?”

I look up, e/c eyes meeting blue.

James’s face holds such my kindness that it hurts. “May I be a part of the conversation?”

“It said that you would yell at me,” I admit after a moment’s hesitation. “And I told it that you won’t.”

And he knows immediately what I mean by ‘it.’ What I call the voice that lives inside my head. “I won’t yell,” he confirms, brushing a strand of hair from my face. There’s a sheen of sweat covering my brow from the heat of the bath. “But I do have questions.” When my eyes drop, he tsks and tilts my chin up so I have to look him in the eyes. “Can you please answer them?” When I give my confirmation, he asks, “Why did you go into town?”

“I… I wanted to make you a peach cobbler,” I say, cheeks rosy. “But we were out of peaches. And I-I thought that I’d be okay if I just went and got the peaches and then went home.” I sniffle, but no tears come. It would appear that I’ve cried myself out for the day. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Is that why there were peaches all over the ground?”

I draw my lower lip in between my teeth. “I-I stole some of your coins to buy them. I-I’m sorry.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” James laughs weakly, caressing my cheek. “My sweet, darling Y/N. I don’t care about measly coins. I just want you safe.” His thumb tugs my lip out from between my teeth. “And it wasn’t stealing. What’s mine is yours. You’re my wife, after all.”

The steam from the bath is filling the room, and James’s hair is starting to stick to his face. He had gotten rid of his suit jacket at one point, but I can’t remember when.

“I never want to leave here again,” I say, my nimble fingers reaching forward to carefully undo the two top buttons of his white button down. The little bit of chest hair that peeks out tempts me to keep going, but I know that now is not the time. “You told me I was safe as long as I stayed here, and I disobeyed you.”

“Sweet girl, I am not your jailer,” he says, taking my hand and turning it over so that the diamond on my left ring finger glints in the light. “I want to keep you safe, but I am not going to lock you inside our home.”

After my bath, he towels me off and dresses me in one of my silk nightgowns. Sleep welcomes me heartily, the plush pillows on our bed carrying me away to a dream land.

When I come to hours later, it’s to a delicious smell rising up the stairs. Languidly stretching, I wince as I feel the soreness in my muscles. The sun is setting, the late rays dusting the room in gold.

Even though I would be content to stay in bed for the rest of the day, I slide out of bed and creep out of the room. Some old jazz tune is playing from the kitchen, the notes reaching me as I come down the stairs.

The sight that greets me makes my heart flutter.

James is standing at the stove, humming softly with the radio as he makes dinner. He’s freshly bathed, in a clean, short sleeve button down that’s tucked into his slacks, his hair back in its perfect coif.

“James?”

His head whips around and a smile spreads over his cheeks. “How’d you sleep?”

“I… Uh, fine,” I say, brows furrowing as I step up to the stove. “What are you doing?”

He looks at me in confusion, glancing between the pots in front of me and then back to me. “I’m making dinner.”

Now he doesn’t think you’re a good cook. You truly are useless.

I immediately begin to nudge him out of the way, hands pressing against his chest to urge him backwards. “I can make it. You go rest.”

“What?” He shakes his head, hands moving to my hips. His fingers gently hold onto me, twisting the silk that barely covers my body. “Y/N, no. I’m going to make you dinner tonight, okay? You’ve had a rough day.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,’” he says, pointing a finger at me. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he nods towards the door on the other side of the kitchen. “Go look in the pantry.”

Still a little put off and confused, I take tentative steps towards the other room. When I glance back at James, he motions for me to keep going. When I open the door, a gasp falls from my lips, my hand reaching up to cover my mouth.

An entire shelf is lined with crates of peaches.

James threw his car in park, slamming the door behind him as he got out. He was absolutely seething as he made his way up to the front door of the red brick building. It had taken him hours to get there, and there was no way he was leaving without getting what he wanted.

Or who he wanted.

He’d passed a sign that said ‘Philadelphia State Hospital’ on the way in, and the energy had shifted the moment he did. The air felt colder. Like something awful was looming on the horizon.

The building felt more like a prison than anything else as he stormed through the doors. When he found the front desk, he slammed his hands harshly down on the counter, startling the lone nurse there.

“May I help you?”

“Where’s Y/N L/N?” He demanded, leaning over the desk to glare at her. He knew that she was less likely to help him with how coarse he was being, but quite frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. “I’m here to pick her up.”

The nurse tutted, her perfectly trimmed nails tapping against the counter. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s not visiting hours.” But she dug through the files in the cabinet beside her desk anyway, tugging out a file with the girl’s name on it. “And it says here that the only people allowed to pick her up are her parents. And you—” She raised her eyebrows as she appraised him. “—are clearly not one of her parents.”

But James didn’t care. Because right beside her name was a room number.

He bolted towards the hall the sign on the wall directed him to, cursing his restrictive clothing. Suit be damned, he needed to find his girl. It took him months to find her and he wasn’t going to let something so trivial keep him away from her any longer.

He can hear the nurse calling after him, heels clicking as she scrambled from out behind her desk. Two other nurses and a doctor joined her, and it struck him how few workers there are compared to how many patients he’d seen just along that hall. There are patients that are littering the hospital, making it that much harder for those chasing him. Some of them turn to look at him, but most stared lifelessly ahead as he ducked and weaved.

It’s more than a little disconcerting.

He finally found the right room and threw open the door without a second thought. The room he entered was devoid of any color, other than the dirt and grime that coated the formerly stark white walls. Five cots were along the far wall, so close together that he was shocked there was room to move. It’s cramped, unbearably so.

“James? Is that you?”

Heart pounding, he let out a sigh of relief as he saw me sitting in a chair by the window to his left. But at the same time, he felt something inside him break. I looked horrible. Like I did back in that cell back in the war. My eyes were sunken in, my skin sallow. The shapeless hospital gown did nothing to hide my state.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice cracking. There was a hazy look in my eyes, and it was clear to him that the doctors had me drugged out of my mind. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. You know I am.”

“I’m getting you out of here, sweet girl,” he said. Without a second thought, he picked me up, not knowing if I was capable of walking on my own or not. With how sickly I appeared, he wasn’t willing to take the chance. “I’m taking you home.”

Voices behind us were demanding that he stopped, and it sent a shiver through me. Those voices belonged to the nurses and doctors that ripped me apart.

They were just as evil as the men across the ocean.

James pushed the door leading to the courtyard open with so much force that it splintered. Alarms were going off all around us. Within what felt like seconds, I was resting in the passenger seat of his car and the tires were squealing as he peeled out of the hospital drive.

“Get some rest, Y/N,” James said after we were a safe distance away. I could tell when he felt we were going to make it by the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his hand reached over and grabbed mine. “We have a long way to go.”

When he finally got back to his estate, the first thing he did was put me in bed. He was sure that I hadn’t gotten a proper night of rest in forever, by the way that I didn’t stir.

The second thing he did was call Steve.

The blond got to his house in record time, and James met him at the front steps. He brought him inside before breaking the news—that he had actually gone through with taking you from the insane asylum.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His best friend asked as he paced the kitchen. His hair was mussed from running his fingers through it in agitation, his shirt untucked from his slacks. “You fucking kidnapped her!”

“I saved her,” James said, hands fisted at his side.

“You’re a government official, Buck! We work at the Pentagon! You can’t just do illegal shit like that!”

“You didn’t see it in there!”

Steve went silent as he saw just how badly the brunet was shaking.

“I couldn’t leave her there, Steve,” he said, his entire body trembling from pure fury. “It was disgusting. There was barely any room to walk, there were so many patients. And she looks just like she did when you rescued us. She’s—” He ran a hand over his face, tears pricking his eyes. “She was starving. Covered in bruises.”

The other man took in a deep breath as his own mind went back to when he first met you.

His hands pressed flat against the table. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself down. It wouldn’t do to wake you up when you were finally getting some well-earned rest. “I searched for her for months, and—"

“I know—”

“No, you don’t,” James said, cutting him off with a steely gaze. “You have Peggy. You had her during the war. I had to wait for over two years to find her again, and then I had to search for her for months after we got back. Only to find out that her family stuck her in a fuckin’ insane asylum. She—” He shook his head, wiping at his face. “She didn’t belong there, Steve.”

The other man sighed, looking all of his age in that moment. Becoming Captain America had aged him, left him a little worn. “But if you get caught—”

“I won’t,” he insisted, his mind drifting up the stairs to the master bedroom. “I’m not letting anyone take her from me again. I’m going to keep her safe if it kills me.”

“Sweet girl, where are you?” I hear James call from inside.

I feel a giddiness in my heart as I shout back, “I’m in the garden!” My bare feet sink into the soil as I trim the roses ever-so-carefully. There’s a stack of bright yellow sunflowers and pure white baby’s breath in the basket resting on the ground for the bouquet I’m putting together.

He appears on the back porch, his suit jacket already discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone. “How are they looking?” He asks as he makes his way over to me.

“Just perfect,” I say with a warm grin, holding out a scarlet rose for him to inspect. I’ve already trimmed off the thorns, lest one of us pricks ourselves. “I think it’ll go rather well with the sunflowers and baby’s breath. Don’t you think?”

“You’ve got a keen eye, you know,” James says, tapping the tip of my nose with his finger. He then pauses. “How are you today?”

I glanced over at the rose bush. “Today’s a good day.” And it was. My mind wasn’t as hazy, though it’s still not as great as it once was. “How was work today?” I ask as I place the roses I’d already trimmed in the basket with the other flowers. Wiping my hand across my brow, I pick up the basket before heading for the house. The first thing I see inside is the stack of new library books he picked up for me, his suit jacket thrown haplessly over a chair.

My husband follows after me, as I expected he would, his hands in his pockets. “It was alright, I suppose. Work was work.” When I set the basket on the kitchen table, he pulls on my hand to twirl me around, bringing me into him with a soft gasp. My hands rest on his broad chest as one of his hands tangles in my hair, letting it down from the twist I’d clipped it into. “I didn’t get my ‘hello’ kiss,” he says as his other hand curves around to the small of my back, bringing me impossibly close.

His nose nudges against mine and I can feel his lips brush against mine. So close yet so far away. “I apologize for my oversight. Could you ever forgive me?” I breathe, playing into his little game. Even after all the years we’ve spent together, he still manages to make my heart race. I feel like a school girl about to receive her first kiss.

“I suppose I can,” he teases. “If you pay a price.”

“And what price would that be?”

“Five kisses.”

I bit my lip to try and stop myself from smiling, but it’s useless. Standing up on my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his forehead. “One.” To his left cheek. “Two.” To his right cheek. “Three.” To his nose. “Four.” And finally, my lips slot against his like puzzle pieces. Kissing him feels like coming home, like warm hot cocoa on a snowy day. “Five,” I say as I pull away. “Am I forgiven?”

He grins mischievously, squeezing me closer to him. “If I say no, will you keep kissing me?”

Laughing, I push him away so I can put the flowers into the empty vase resting on the table. “What am I going to do with you?”

James watches with soft eyes as I carefully arrange the flowers, content to just be in my presence.

I never thought I would find someone like him. Someone who loves me enough to go against the law, to rescue me from a dreadful existence. Someone who has patience for me, who understands that I’m trying my best and that sometimes my best isn’t that great.

Even from all of before this, I couldn’t have dreamt up someone as amazing as him in my wildest dreams.

He always says that he’s the lucky one, but I disagree. I was lucky when he ended up next to me back during the war. I had been alone for so long. I can remember crying the first time he spoke to me.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says finally, moving towards where I’ve started to pull out the plates for dinner. James gently takes the china out of my hands, placing them to the side so my full attention is on him.

“What is it?” My eyes brighten at the prospect of a surprise. “Is it more peaches?” I ask, thinking of the crates he had gotten me a few weeks ago.

“No, but I’ll make sure to pick some up when I go to the grocer tomorrow,” he says, grabbing my hips gently. His thumbs rub soft circles into my skin, having slipped under my loose blouse. “Tell me, sweet girl, how would you feel about two of my close friends coming over for dinner later this week?”

He wants you to meet his friends?

“Your… Your friends?” I stammer, trying to wrap my head around the concept of other people in this house. Of spending time with people other than James. It’d been weeks since the incident in town, and I’ve recovered rather well, but I don’t know. I’m still apprehensive.

You’re going to mess everything up.

“It would just be Steve and Peggy,” the brunet reassures me, his blue eyes locked with mine.

Being so close to him is like drinking a glass of whiskey. My entire body feels warm and I feel so relaxed. Like nothing could ever hurt me ever again. And I know that it’s his wish to make sure nothing does. In the days after the incident in town, he doted on me even more so than usual. He took a few days off work, choosing to stay home and keep me company. He’d changed the bandages on my hands every few hours, massaged the tension out of my muscles. There was nothing I went without.

“Still with me, sweet girl?”

I blink, realizing that I’d zoned out while he was talking to me. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“You remember Steve and Peggy, right? From back during the war?” James asks, his voice lowering to a soothing whisper.

I nod hesitantly, trying my best to keep the memories out of my head. “You tell me lots of stories about them.”

“Well, they would like to have dinner with us,” he says, talking slowly as he gauges my reaction. “It would just be us four here at home. They’d be here for only an hour or two.”

“What if…” I swallow, my eyes falling down to the hardwood floor. “What if I have an episode?”

James leans his forehead against mine, his hot breath hitting my skin. “Then they’ll leave and we’ll spend the rest of the night just like any other.” He pauses. “But they won’t think less of you if you do. I want you to know that. They know about what happened and it hasn’t stopped them from wanting to really meet you and get to know you.” The silence that stretches on afterwards is long and heavy. Finally, he clears his throat. “What do you say?”

James threw the door of Steve’s office open, storming in like and looking very much like a hellcat. He absolutely radiated anger.

“Hello to you, too, Bucky,” the blond said without glancing up from his papers. He looked every bit the general he was. “It’s so nice of you to drop in.”

“Shut up. I see you for over eight hours a day,” he said, tossing the file down onto his desk.

Steve raised his eyebrows as he finally looked up at the other man, the sky meeting the ocean. “What the hell is this?”

He just motioned towards the file. As Steve picked up the file, he grabbed a glass from the minibar that was kept well stocked, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch. He stared out the window like some kind of Jay Gatsby. The liquor burned his throat but he didn’t care.

“You found her.”

James nodded, throwing back the rest of his drink in one gulp. “After eight months of digging, I find her.” He scoffed as he tried to pretend that his throat wasn’t tightening up, that tears weren’t rimming his eyes. “And find out her god damn parents locked her away in an insane asylum.” He whirled around to face him, the hand with the glass pointing towards him. “She’s not insane. She’s not.”

Steve stood up, trying to quell his own fury. “I know she isn’t, Buck.”

“She’s just—” He ran a hand over his face.

“I know.”

“That god damned war broke her,” James snarled, shaking his head. “She’s fought that war just like any other soldier, and this is how they treat her? Like some kind… some kind of animal.” But through all the anger, there was an overwhelming sense of helplessness. A feeling that he was determined to squash. “I’m getting her out of there.”

Steve sighed, his gut telling him that his best friend was about to do something incredibly stupid. “We’ll find a way to get her out of there, Bucky.”

“No.”

He froze, shaking his head as he tried to comprehend what he just said. “I’m sorry—what do you mean ‘no?’”

“That’ll take too much time,” James said, slamming the empty glass back onto the cart. He wiped his mouth as he began to head for the still-open door. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Buck—come on—you can’t just bust her out of there,” Steve laughed, sure that his best friend was pulling his leg. But when he didn’t laugh, he cleared his throat. “You can’t be serious. That’s… That’s kidnapping. You’re a fucking lieutenant general, for crying out loud.”

And any other day, James would agree. After the mess that was World War II, Steve was appointed general, even though he still went by Captain America. James and the other members of the Howling Commandos were appointed to various ranks for their service. And he was proud of that. He took his job seriously.

But this was his girl.

He rolled his shoulders back, fixing his best friend with a steely gaze. “I’ll be back to work in two days.”

I don’t look up as I hear the door open, scrambling back and forth from setting the table in the dining room and the stove. I have several pots simmering as well as a crown roast with apricot dressing in the oven. My face is covered with perspiration, but I don’t have time to think about that.

“The house smells wonder—” James broke off as he saw me running around like a chicken without my head. “Woah, woah, woah—where’s the fire?”

“I have to finish dinner,” I say, shaking him off when he tries to pull me into his arms. He doesn’t relent, though, and he wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. And despite the anxiety that’s running through my body, I allow myself to sink back into his embrace. “James…”

His lips press lingering open-mouthed kisses to my shoulders, trailing up my neck. “Why are you so worried, sweet girl?”

“I—”

“And don’t say you’re worried about burning dinner.”

“I...” I drew my bottom lip in between my teeth, my hands clutching at the arm wrapped around my waist like a lifeline. “What if they don’t like me?”

James hums as he sways me. “That’s nonsense. Of course, they will.”

You’re a fucked up mess and they’re going to remind James of that.

I feel as though I’ll fall if not for his arm holding me up. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

You should be back in that asylum.

He stiffens, his hold around me tightening. “Y/N, I know you’re nervous, but—”

They’ll convince James to send you back.

“They’re gonna think I’m weird,” I interrupt. My eyes are trained on the white cabinets. A hot tear trickles down my cheek and I sniffle. “I… I know that I’m different from other people. Before my parents sent me to the asylum, I heard people whispering about me everywhere I went. Saying that it was a shame that such a… a lovely girl like me was touched in the head. Said I would’ve made a pretty bride.” I frown down at where his hand is splayed against my stomach, eyeing the golden band that’s on his left ring finger. It matches the diamond on mine. “People don’t think I’m smart or that I know what’s happening. But I…” I break off, choking back a sob.

He deserves better than you.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmurs as his other arm wraps around me like a vice. “But you are so smart. It might take you a while to get to the answer, and sometimes you forget things, but you are so, so smart. You hear me? You are the smartest, brightest person I know.” James kissed my cheek. “I’ll take care of all this. You go take a nice long bath and get ready for dinner, okay?”

Two hours later, and I find myself pacing the parlor. My heels are clicking against the hardwood floor, my fingers wringing in the silk skirt of my dress.

“My sweet girl, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” James muses as he appears in the doorway. His tie is hanging loose around his neck and I immediately move to him, fingers reaching for the silk. His mesmerizing blue eyes are roaming over my face as though trying to memorize every bit of me. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“What are you trying to butter me up for?” I tease as I deftly fix his tie, like I do every morning without fail.

He smirks, hands finding my hips. The look in his eyes always makes my knees weak. “I’m not buttering you up for anything. Can’t a man tell the love of his life he finds her to be absolutely stunning?”

“I think you’re trying to get lucky later,” I say, tugging on his tie to pull him down into a languid kiss.

“Oh, baby. I’m not trying to get lucky,” he purrs. Our lips slot together like puzzle pieces and an innocent kiss quickly turns into something more. His hands wander, pulling me as close as humanly possible. It’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin. “Sweet girl,” he moans against my lips. “I—” He’s cut off by a knock on the door. Groaning, he nudges his nose against mine. “We should send them away… Tell them to come back another time.”

“No,” I say, giggling as he pouts his lower lip. “Come on. Later.”

I stand behind James as he opens the door, revealing a tall blond man that I recognize as Steve and a pretty brunette that I can only assume is Peggy. The super soldier looks a little older than I remember him.

The two greet James with excited hugs, even though the two men had just seen each other a few hours before. My fingers fiddle together as I stand there nervously. It’s when their eyes find me half-hidden behind my husband that my breath hitches, my heart caught in my throat.

“Hello, Y/N,” Steve says, speaking softly as he flashes me a warm smile.

I glance up at James, who nudges me forward gently.

“Go on,” he whispers, lips brushing my ear. “I’m right here with you.”

Licking my lips, I look back up at the blond. “H-Hi, Steve. It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you looking so healthy,” he says. He then puts his hand on the woman’s back. “This is my wife, Peggy.”

She steps forward, holding out her hand for you to shake. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. James and Steve had told me so much about you.” Her accent lilts her quiet words.

“James told me that… that you were from England,” I said, taking a moment to find my words. “What part are you from?”

She seems to light up at my willingness to talk. “I’m from Hampstead.” As James leads the three of you to the dining room, she continues, “I went to school in London, though. And you? Where did you go?”

The conversation carries easily through the first thirty minutes of dinner. We’re all laughing and joking around. It surprises me how easily I’m able to talk to them, but then again, maybe James was right when he said they would like me.

They just feel bad for you.

“No, they don’t,” I say under my breath, glaring down at my plate. What I don’t see is the other three all turn to look at me, their conversation quieting.

They’re only putting up with you because James asked them to.

“No.”

They don’t actually like you.

I bite my lip as I grip my fork so tightly my knuckles go white. “But—”

“Sweet girl?”

I looked up, the spell broken, to see three pairs of eyes focused on me. I shrink a little under their gazes, under their concern. “I’m sorry,” I whimper, my cheeks flaming.

James shakes his head as he takes my hand, massaging my soft skin. He’s turned in his chair so he can face me completely. “Don’t apologize. What’s wrong?”

I pause, eyes going to Steve and Peggy, but he gently turns my head back towards him. “It… It was saying that they don’t like me. That they’re only putting up with me for you.” I shrug as I look down at our joined hands, focusing on his touch. I’m trying to downplay how I’m feeling, I know. But I don’t want to ruin tonight. “That they’ll get you to send me back.”

“Do you want Steve and Peggy to go home?” He asks. After I shake my head, he smiles and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “You tell me at anytime if you want them to leave, okay?”

Almost an hour later, James shuts the door with a soft click after we say our goodbyes to our two guests. He turns to look at me as that smile spreads over his face. The precious smile that only I get. “I’m so proud of you,” he say as he sweeps me off my feet, twirling me around the room., leaving me in a fit of giggles.

“Where are we going?” I ask breathlessly as he starts to carry me up the stairs.

“I’m finishing what was so rudely interrupted, my sweet, sweet girl.”

I hummed softly as I leaned my head back against one of the bars of my cage. The cold of the concrete floor seeps into my skin, but I can’t really bring myself to care. Not when there’s so many other things to worry about.

Like the fact that I hadn’t eaten in over four days. Hunger pains twisted my stomach every time I moved. I’m afforded just enough water to survive. I felt as though I was withering away, ready to die at any second.

And honestly, I wish I would.

But the worst part was the boredom. The endless, never-ending boredom. I’d been the only prisoner for what I thought to be about a month, but there was no way to be sure. The days blended together after the only other person who was in there was taken to the operation room and never returned. Hell, it’d been

I could only sit and count the cracks in the wall so many times. My mind was starting to slip away from me. I could feel myself breaking a little more every day. I could find myself starting to talk to myself. To a voice that resided inside my head.

“Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you.’ Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me,” I sing under my breath.

“Y’ got a nice voice.”

I let out a scream as I scramble backwards, heart pounding. By the door of the cell, the lump that I thought was a bunch of blankets began to move. A soft groan echoed through the room. “Wh-Who are you?!”

“Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th,” he said as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. It took a little longer than he probably wanted. “What’s yours, doll?”

I froze a little, seeing his face for the first time. Despite all the blood and muck that covered it, he was stunning. His startling blue eyes drank me in like he hadn’t had water for days. His brown hair was sticking to his skin from the amount of grease coating it.

Even so, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” I say, my voice hoarse from spending so long without speaking.

“What’s a—” He grunted, pressing a hand against his abdomen. “What’s a pretty dame like you doing in a place like this?”

It surprised me, that he was able to flirt with me at a time like this. “Got kidnapped by German soldiers. What else?”

“You’re funny,” The brunet chuckled, though it was weak. He leaned back against the wall. “Half my regiment and I were taken. Don’t know where they are though.” He looked around the concrete room, at the bars that lined the wall, the tally marks that I’d given up scratching into the wall. A long forgotten attempt to keep tracks of the days. “What is this place?”

“People who are in here are… experimented on,” I said, going quiet as my eyes shifted to the door that the operation room lied behind. I had been dragged to that room kicking and screaming more times than I could count. “It’s always the same. They strap us down and stick us with needles. Put some kind of serum in us.”

“That’s…” James swallowed as he followed my gaze. “Horrific, for lack of better terms.”

“It is what it is,” I said before lying down on the ground, my back facing him. Having another person in my cell was more than a little overwhelming. Not to mention that I didn’t want to risk getting attached to him, only for him to be dragged away only to never come back. It was clear enough that I wasn’t in the mood to talk, and he went silent.

Yet no matter how much I tossed and turned, sleep never came.

Three weeks later, and all thoughts of keeping my distance from me had disappeared. Hell, I’d come to know him better than I knew myself. It had happened somewhere, in between the two of us individually being dragged into the operation room, only to come back a quivering, incoherent mess.

We leaned against each other, back to back, and I relished in the feeling of another human’s touch. “How’d you get here? Why were you taken?” He asked.

“I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Come on, sweet girl,” he said, his fingers intertwining with mine.

I felt a rush of heat at his nickname. He’d taken to calling me such within a week. “I was a nurse for the 115th regiment,” I said, my voice shaky. My nurse’s uniform had been trashed ages ago and I’d been left in whatever scratchy clothing my captors gave me. “There was a snowstorm, and we were out of matches. Our men were falling sick and there wasn’t anything we could do to help them get better because we had no way to keep them warm. We barely had enough blankets as it is.” His thumb rubbed soft circles in the back of my hand. “So I said that I’d go across the line to the German troops. We had no reason to think that they’d hurt me. I’m a woman. A nurse.”

“You aren’t supposed to hurt women or children in wartime,” James grunted, tensing at the thought of someone hurting me. “It’s not honorable.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Honor didn’t exist in war. Not truly. Only blood and fear. “When I got there, they took me. Knocked me out.” The concrete walls of my prison felt like they were closing in. “I woke up here months ago. Almost a year, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pregnant pause. “If I could get you out of here…”

“I know,” I said, interrupting him. Something had changed within the last few days. There was a new energy between us. Lingering glances, whispered words. We’d taken to sleeping as close as possible without actually touching. “But you being here is enough.” It was useless to try to put into words how alone I had been, how much I had needed human interaction.

That night, when James woke me with his nightmares, I was there. I immediately jolted awake at his screams. They bounced around the concrete room, fading into soft whimpers when I gently shook him awake.

“James, it’s me,” I said, my fingers carding through his hair. My heart lurched with every sob that fell from his lips. I hated that there was nothing I could do except hold him.

“I’m sorry,” he cried into my chest. His arms wove around my waist, squeezing me tightly. His tears were soaking my shirt but I paid it no mind. All that mattered was him. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” I murmured, kissing his greasy hair.

James sniffled, his fingers bunching up the fabric covering me. “Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you sing that song again?”

“Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you.’ Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me,” I sang quietly, closing my eyes. I could feel him start to slip away once again, his spiked heart rate slowing. His tears weren’t coming as quickly as before. “Say nightie night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me. While I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.”

Even after he fell asleep, I rocked him back and forth, reminding him over and over, that no matter the evil that was being forced upon us, we were still good. The darkness inside me tangled with his and I was certain of only one thing in this world. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

#whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #wcnfbirthdaychallenge #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic

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lihikainanea · 5 years ago

Note

tiger would feel so guilty about falling asleep mid-blowjob, especially when bill goes to relieve himself in the bathroom. she’d get up, go to her knees, whimpering while trying to latch her lips to his head. he’d hush her and insist it’s okay, but now she’s small and fussy, just wanting to make him feel good.

the mood today is most definitely SOFF AND SUBBY.

Look man, maybe the kid’s been dealing with a lot. Work is insane, but she’s getting better at trying to balance it all. Maybe this round she’s not going full throttle, not staying up all night and not eating and becoming maniacal trying to finish the project--maybe she really is being good about it, not putting up any fight whatsoever when Bill comes to get her for her mandatory breaks. Instead, she’s nibbling on what he put on the plate for her, and when it’s nap time she’s curling up with him and burying her nose in his chest and relaxing for the mandated 20 minutes. But this project is taking a lot of brain power and long hours and even if she’s being smart and good about it she’s still exhausted. And when it’s time to go to bed her mind is still going a mile a minute so she kind of loses herself in Bill just to get a few moments of peace.

And Bill, for his part, is a tad reluctant every time she reaches for him at night, every time she softly begs for what she wants. On the one hand, he’s happy to give this to her and his chest is just thrumming with good provider/caretaker vibes. Tiger needs a release, needs to make her mind go blank, and she knows that he can give that to her (and that he will give that to her, every time) so she’s asking him for it. But on the other hand--god she’s just so frail these days so exhausted, that Bill wishes she would just curl up and sleep. But her mind is too jumbled up, too loud and he knows it, and he knows he needs to help her quiet it a bit.

But the way tiger quiets her mind, the way she finds the peace she so desperately needs, is by being small for him. By being good for him. So while Bill is more than ready to make her come until she basically passes out, it’s actually the last thing that she wants. Because what SHE wants is to make him feel good, to be small and soft and good for him, to get on her knees for him. And Bill is just a tad conflicted because he just wants to give her everything she needs always, but he wasn’t quite anticipating that what she needs every night is to please him. It feels little selfish.

So maybe one night as he picked her up after she brushed her teeth--he started doing that a week ago, just looping her legs around his waist and carrying her to bed like a koala--and she melted, so he kept doing it. Maybe one night when he softly laid her out in bed and she reached for the waistband of his boxers, maybe he stayed her hands.

“Kid, can I...repay the favour?” he asked tentatively, “Don’t you want to feel good, too?”

Except tiger let out the worst, most broken little whine he’s ever heard. Because all she’s registering is that she needs something, and he’s telling her no. And being told no is bad, it means SHE’S bad, and that’s a concept that destroys her in that moment. She curls in on herself, backing away from him but he needs to fix it fast--so he just grabs onto her, picks her up and puts her on her knees in front of him. He sits on the edge of the bed, crouching to be eye level with her, and threads a hand through her hair.

“Eyes, tiger,” he snaps his fingers in front of her but keeps his tone gentle, and she reluctantly meets his gaze.

“You’re good sweet girl, you know that right?” he says, “You’re so good for me.”

She looks uncertain, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth but he uses his thumb to tug it free, sliding it into her mouth after.

“Tiger if this is what you need you can have it. As much as you want,” he murmurs, “I just wanted to be sure it’s what you need. Because I feel....selfish taking it, without giving anything back.”

He wants to ask her if this is what she needs. He wants to ask her if she’s sure. But tiger doesn’t want to answer anything right now, she doesn’t want to decide what she needs--she wants to be told. And Bill knows that this is what she needs. He sighs, leaning forward to kiss her nose softly.

“Do you want to be good for me, sweet girl?” he asks, and she nods vigorously at that.

“Okay,” he says, and then with his thumb still in her mouth he reaches under her pillow, grabs her knife.

“I’ll tell you what, then,” he says, holding the knife in his open palm to show her, “We’ll keep doing this every night. You can keep being so sweet, so good for me just like this every night. But if at anytime--any time--you want me to make you feel good too, then you leave your knife somewhere that I’ll see it. How’s that?”

She flits her gaze up to his, her eyes big and innocent.

“You don’t have to ask. You don’t have to say anything. Just leave it out somewhere, and when I see it, I’ll come find you. Okay?” he coaxes. She nods.

“Good girl,” he praises, and he tucks the knife back under her pillow. He tugs his boxers down with one hand, kicks them off, and pulls her head forward into his lap.

But like, here’s the thing--and I’m getting to your point nani, I promise--they do this every night, just like he said. And tiger is getting a little more fussy, a lot more small each time. Maybe sometimes they start off and they’re both on the bed, Bill stretched out with the covers pooled at his knees and tiger laid out on her tummy between his legs. But tiger needs....more. Even like that, getting what she needs and pacifying her oral fixation and making her Big Dude feel good--she needs to be more small. So she’ll start to whine, she’ll start to get fussy and uncomfortable, and Bill will sit up, grab her arms and help coax her to the floor. He’ll help her kneel, and she settles immediately--reaching back for him so she can continue in the new position.

But she’s also just....god, the poor bean is exhausted. And I bet you’re SO right, I bet one night when she’s like that--on her knees between his legs, her mouth full, just being real slow about it, I’ll bet she just deadass falls asleep. Because Bill’s big hand is in her hair scritching softly, and it just feels so good. So right there on his thigh, her mouth still full, she falls asleep.

And Bill sighs, keeps scritching her softly while he figures out what to do. He’s so close that it hurts, so maybe he just gently removes her mouth from him, guides her to rest on the side of the bed, and then quietly gets up and goes to the bathroom. It won’t take long, he knows, and when he gets back he’ll pick her up and tuck her in with him.

But like, here’s the thing. He’s right, it doesn’t take long. But as he’s grabbing a tissue to clean up, the door pushes open and tiger is standing there, looking totally distraught. She takes it in--his slightly heaving chest, the balled up tissue in his hand, the unmistakable look of satisfaction on his face. And she makes a distressed noise, falling to her knees and crawling to him. Bill, not really knowing what else to do, just kind of sinks to his knees too as she crawls to him.

“Tiger, it’s okay,” he soothes, tangling his hands in her hair and kissing her, “It’s okay sweet girl.”

“No, no no no,” she’s muttering over and over again, “Bad.”

“You’re good sweet girl, you’re good for me,” he tries again, “It’s okay.”

But tiger knows what she did, and she feels awful about it and can’t snap out of it.

“Bad,” she cries, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I--”

And she’s starting to wheeze a bit, starting to get a little too far away in her mind, so Bill turns stern. Balling her hair in his hands, he yanks her head back so she’s looking up at him. When she won’t meet his eyes, he snaps his fingers in front of her face.

“Tiger, eyes. Now,” he says forcefully, and she flits her gaze to his.

“Do you get to decide that?” he demands. And guh, this is how beautiful the complexity of their relationship is. Bill knows tiger is not going to forgive herself for this. He knows she’s not going to find the absolve she needs, unless he punishes her. But he wants to be clear that falling asleep--that doesn’t merit punishment. No way does that merit punishment. So instead, he’s going to give her something to misbehave about, here. She’s challenging him, by not trusting what he says--by insisting that she’s bad, when he’s telling her she’s good--and that is against the rules.

“No,” she mumbles.

“Who decides that?” he continues.

“You do,” she says softly.

“You’re goddamn right,” he says, “And are you supposed to go against what I say?”

She reaches her hands up softly, resting them on his chest--and that’s a good sign. That’s a very good sign indeed, it’s confirmation that he’s doing what she needs, when she didn’t even know that she needed it. It’s her way of saying bingo, buddy. Please keep going.

“No,” she says again. He stands suddenly, grasping her arms roughly and putting her on her feet.

“Go wait on the bed,” he commands. She hesitates for a half a second, and it’s not because she’s trying to be disobedient--it’s because she wants something from him, just a bit of reassurance because this is a lot for her to process. In a heartbeat, he reaches for her again, pulls her so that she slams into his chest, and kisses her roughly.

“I won’t ask again, tiger,” he warns when he pulls away, but she’s moving now--because that’s what she needed. He gives her a few minutes to get settled, and when he walks in she’s on all fours waiting for him. He sits, pulling her across his lap and winding a fist in her hair at the nape of her neck.

“Why are you being punished, tiger?” he asks.

“Because I went against what you said,” she replies meekly.

“And what did I say?”

“That I’m...I’m good,” she says.

“And are you?”

“Yes,” she chokes a little on the word, “Yes, I’m good.”

“You get five kid, count them.”

He makes them hurt, sting just a little more than usual because she needs to feel something. But after--after, he definitely finally gets what he wants, too, and he reaches a hand down to get her off. Tiger sleeps like a fucking baby after that, curled up against him as close as possible and still burrowing in more, his thumb jammed in her mouth, and she doesn’t wake up until real late the next day.

Bill smiles a few days later when he goes to grab his pack of smokes from the hallway table and he finds her knife on top of it. He throws his jacket off, running through her apartment with thunderous steps and flinging her office door open, diving for her.

#ALL THE SUBBY FEELS TODAY #sub tiger #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill

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rainmustfallts4 · 10 months ago

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Challenge ◇ Tiger’s Guide to Losing your Mind Part 43

⊶⊰Information & Index⊱⊷⊶⊰Part 1⊱⊷⊶⊰Chronological⊱⊷

───────────────────────────────────────

MORE DUELS GUYS

Oh, look, I got cursed. I wonder if it will FINALLY BE THE NIGHT WRAITH

Wait, this could be a good thing. I’m more likely to lose duels hmm

I love this broom so much, it’s so pretty ♡

What did I need frogs for again?

…I think it was for a potion. Maybe the nimble mind? I couldn’t ever find the feckin’ frog I needed though.

I love you so much, Ambrose 🥺 I would die for you, my bird

Oh? 👀 I think we might have a vampy baby!

Natasha is offering Rosa some much needed advice – question nothing and just ignore your problems. Good advice, if I do say so myself.

The rocket is coming along nicely. I wonder which will happen first – level 10 rocket science or the night wraith.

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thestoneforests · 6 years ago

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Pick a card reading—Advice

Today, a few pick beautiful pick a card readings popped onto my feed, and I instantly wanted to try it out myself! However, this is my first time, hence the "try it out", and I am unsure if I did it right. I hope my intuition is at least a bit on target!

Because this is for practice, please comment your results if you want to — or if you have any advice I would dearly appreciate it!✨

This reading will be for general advice you need to hear, or about your situation in general. The way pick a card readings usually work is that you sense out, using your intuition, which pile you need to hear from. Before choosing the cards I chose a crystal (well technically amber is fossizilized tree resin) for each pile in case it helps you sense it out! I did not mean for each crystal to correspond with the reading meaning, but somehow it kind of turned out that way.

This will be rather short for each one, because I am not used to this sort of larger-scale reading!

Group 1 ~ Bloodstone

In this spread, what quickly stood out to me was the celestial and water based cards — so many! I was happy as soon as I saw all of them! This deals a lot with with emotion, creativity, and freedom. You have something great at hand that is so worthwhile to focus on. You’ve bravely gone through multiple obstacles to get where you are now, and the dawn of your success is finally here — and with it comes the realization that you are finally ready to set sail into something you are dreaming of doing, or to venture further into a wonderful situation and plan you’ve set yourself up for! You may have recently made a decision; and it was the right one! You know what to do, and you should move forward with your idea, because it is the correct choice for your personal growth and development.

As seen with the meaning of Bloodstone, calm your fears and dispel of obsessive ideas that may hinder you.

This spread hints to some of you possibly soon traveling — perhaps by plane or water? You have what you need and are ready to take that leap. Balance your emotions with creativity, because you have carved your path to freedom, and you can finally set sail with this plan of yours. While it may seem daunting or sad in a way, know that you can proceed with your plans in a way that is life affirming and self-loving. If you need it, call upon support from loved ones and friends, it will help so much!

Honestly, I’m really getting a spiritual vibe from this. I think that some of you are about to delve into some sort of new spiritual situation or research — maybe you just decided a form of divination or magic work to focus on.

Everything you have done has led to this moment. What you have chosen will be a life changing decision for you🌊

Group 2 ~ Orange Calcite

I feel so much growing and success energy here (and I don’t sense energy so how do I? who knows).

Take control of this! Be proud of who you are! What you do next, with your life, is up to YOU! You are the one in control, not anyone else, and you deserve it! The end of the situation you’re in is entirely in your hands. Take a proactive approach to solving any challenges, stand in your own power, and have confidence that you have what it takes to bring about a happy ending. Don’t wait for someone else to run in and take charge. In order to come to a successful conclusion, this situation requires your unique perspective and experience.

As seen with the orange calcite, use your creativity and have a calm, clear mind.

Soon, you are going to meet someone that will really be beneficial to your life, guiding you further on your success just as the butterfly guides the King of Swords... You may meet or interact with someone who is spiritually important to you, or is very enlightened. All agree that white butterflies signify a very powerful change related to our legacy and our ancestors — if any of you do past life or spirit work, you may want to check up on things! It also implies a divine intervention, and a release from ones burden.

This spread shows a lot of overcoming things; you deserve respect for your accomplishments and growth! Flowers and wheat are bountiful beneath symbols of power in this spread, showing that you have grown into someone so so amazing. And all of these bright circles, reflecting or made of light, remind me of the Sun. This 'Sun' is your success shining down on the path (flowers and wheat) you have taken, and the things you have nurtured to make this moment happen. So much happiness is coming for you☀️

Group 3 ~ Red Tiger's Eye

So... tired... I just want it to stop. I’ve tried so hard and it’s as if it never happened? I don’t have the strength to continue on doing this. The harsh conditions around me only make me more exhausted. Wait a minute — this is overwhelming. Look at all of this struggling. Is this really beneficial to you, or only other people? Let it be a sour relationship, situation, or your life just seems to be spinning out of control... You don’t deserve this. Whoever or whatever did this to you is terrible.

You are so used to the same thing over and over. But soon, life will surprise you — something unexpected is coming your way. This will be a new opportunity or person — take this chance and get away from what is dragging you down.

As seen with the Tiger's Eye, have persistence in getting to where you want, but also make sure that you have protection from things that wish to harm you.

What you need right now is faith in your dreams. You are losing it, or have lost it completely. You can have what you desire, but you must believe that it can be so. Set aside all negativity or pessimism. The Law of Attraction brings to us what we expect to receive. If we fall into doubt and don’t believe in our own self-worth, then our experiences will match that energy. Believe in yourself and your cherished dreams; but if this is concerning something such as an abusive relationship, always, always seek greater help.🍁

Group 4 ~ Amber

After reviewing this reading, I feel that it mostly has to do with a relationship.

Things look difficult now. However, the situation is going to improve. It may take some time, and there will likely be some hard work ahead of you. But the effort you put forth will be worth it, and things are going to get better! Now is not the time to give up on wounded friendships or ailing relationships. There is still hope for the future. Take heart, and continue to work toward a partnership where both parties are fulfilled and happy in the future.

As seen with the Amber, this is a healing process, so lift your spirits about this!

I see some symbolism of a change concerning a relationship or people. The two butterflies represent two individuals who are flying in harmony, both having helped to fix an ailing relationship and make it everlasting when it seemed that it couldn’t be so. You may have a partner, family member, or friend who your relationship is downfalling with; although it may seem like it possibly won’t work out in the end, or that one or both of you don’t have the commitment to pull through, know that things can be fixed. BOTH of you have to work together to create the harmony you seek.

As we see the symbolism of a sort of relationship being bettered, we watch as it advances in levels. From Page, it goes to Knight, showing how much stronger and advanced communication and stability will become. If there is something bothering concerning money, a solution will come because both parties have helped out. Perhaps someone will find a better job or financial solution. Because of the advanced relationship, you will both then climb to The Emperor — trinity and peace are here. Your relationship will seem abundant and maintained. But when this happens, you both must work hard to maintain this wonderful state!🌑

I hope this helped or resonated with someone! Despite how long it took, it was a lot of fun to do, and is the first time I didn’t read the card descriptions (although I did cheat and review what the angel oracles meant — they were a wonderful guideline to help out!). So, I hope my deciphering was okay!

If you would like me to do more of these in the future, or have any ideas of what types (such as "five years from now" or such), please feel free to comment below! 🌿✨🦌

—7/1/19

#witchblr #pick a card reading #tarot #mine #oracle #practice #forest of deers and rain #tarot reading #oracle reading #my readings #advice #pick a card

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itsasiantigers-blog · 5 years ago

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Tips for Moving Overseas | Asian Tigers Secret Guide

Nothing’s more satisfying than knowing you are going to a foreign land. Most of the millennials dream about starting a new life in a new country. In this blog, I experienced expats tips for moving overseas.

Also, it is adventurous, liberating, but tiresome and stressful than anything in your life. That’s why we’re giving some insights as tips for moving overseas to whoever is making the big move!

Understandably, lives of expats seem aspiring, no-close-to-worries, but anxiety and other dismissive feelings do come.

While chatting with a bunch of people who moved abroad with the help of a relocation company, we gathered some insights. It may or may not help just anyone, although these points give you a mindset to what to expect on foreign land.

You maybe someone who enjoys parties, and nothing can stop you from becoming the roman in Rome. However, what if you miss your family despite having a busy new life while dealing with different cultural norms, language, and people.

Losing yourself in the name of integrating with a perfect dream-like culture should be the last thing on your list. Moving overseas has different and challenging aims, finding yourself, becoming another foreign inventor, or write a travel book.

Pack Light, Explore More

In every culture, there exists a norm, which suggests taking everything you may need. Well, it is not a wise choice. You’re leaving for two-years, and taking the things that will serve no good in a new place is not prioritizing. Consider to pack light and explore more.

Settle and Stay

Keep in mind, you are not going to settle overnight. Give your mind and soul time to observe, grasp, and understand newness. Let’s say, two months are enough for a person to say yes to various things you will not accept in your motherland. It is a simple formula, give time to settle in and stay as long as you desire.

Language Issues, Make Local Friends

You would struggle with language. For instance, English is the world’s most spoken language, but it has variations. In the US, people talk the hip-hop cultural English, and in England, there are around five variations of the language.

Make close relations with your colleagues or your building people. Local friends ease the process of language bonding. For more details about tips on moving overseas, contact Asian Tigers, we will arrange your relocation expertly.

#Relocation services #Moving to Asia

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impracticaldemon · 6 years ago

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Hot Shower

by impracticaldemon for @colivara a wonderful artist & Shingen fan ~ thank you for sharing your art and ideas! ~

fandom: Ikemen Sengoku character: Takeda Shingen (Shingen x MC) words: ~1650 [also on AO3] rating: M+ (explicit)

He never lost sight of the fact that he was going back to the Sengoku, five hundred years in the past. His people needed him, for one thing, and he’d promised Yukimura, for another. But that was no reason not to appreciate the present—or rather, the future, as he invariably called it when they were alone. And Takeda Shingen, the indomitable Tiger of Kai, appreciated showers.

“You aren’t out of hot water yet?”

The shower curtain was immediately drawn back, revealing a lot of very sudsy Shingen, and an inviting smile. The smile was just a bonus, though—the truth was that everything about him was inviting, from his broad shoulders, to the hard, muscled planes of his chest and abs, to his glorious, long, long legs, and strong, welcoming arms. And as for in between… She found herself crossing the short distance from the door to the bath despite her implied admonishment about the water.

“I’m not out of hot water—and it’s lovely to have you back early from your errands.”

Heedless of her light summer dress, he wrapped a large hand around the back of her head and pulled her mouth up to his, his other hand gently gripping her upper bicep so that she wouldn’t fall. His lips were wet, and water trickled down onto her face as she returned the kiss, at first allowing him to claim her, and then actively welcoming his tongue with her own. They stood like that for some time—she wasn’t sure how long—and by the time they had to pause to breathe, it was an effort not to cling to him, despite the warm spray that would inevitably soak her clothing.

“Are you getting out soon?” The question sounded a little needier than she’d intended, especially since she was panting, but who cared? They knew each other, and there was no need for pretense, especially when he constantly reminded her how much he adored everything about her, including her passion for him.

“No—instead…” His lips caressed her ear, and then the curve of her neck, sending trickles of water and pleasure along her flushed skin. Drawing her closer, his hands busied themselves with the buttons and belt of her dress, and she was forced to brace herself against him—and then to grip his lean waist and hips—to save her precarious balance.

As each button came free in turn, warm water trickled and splashed over her skin, and down between her breasts, like a second, intimate caress. The light cotton of the dress soon clung to her skin, and once Shingen had undone enough buttons to be able to free her, he still had to peel the material down off her shoulders, and over her hips. She swallowed hard, and then moaned, when his strong hands roughly palmed, and then pinched, the now swollen, sensitive tips of her breasts through the damp lace of her pretty bra.

She didn’t protest—may even have encouraged him—when he finally lifted her bodily into the shower with him before removing the last of her clothing. Her skin was completely flushed with arousal now, and she licked water from her lips in anticipation, as well as to watch desire flare even more clearly in his admiring, lust-filled gaze. She loved that he allowed her to see his real thoughts and emotions, these days, instead of playing the role of hedonist seducer.

At first, she nuzzled at his chest, and let her hands to roam over his back, and very fine backside, while they enjoyed the feeling of their bodies against each other, and revelled in the hot water now splashing down freely over them both. Then they kissed again, fervently, although that didn’t last long once he began to stroke the folds between her legs with strong, sure fingers, his other hand cupping and squeezing her ass to keep her upright against him. Her mouth broke from his with a breathy moan of desire, and after taking one last, deep, forceful kiss from her, he allowed her to lean against him while he slid first one, and then a second finger inside her tight opening. As much as she wanted to return the pleasure—and the teasing—her knees were starting to buckle, and she kept losing concentration. His breath, almost as rough as hers, brushed at her ear, and heightened sensation. She was wet through and through, now, and the water had little to do with it.

“Shin-gen…”

“Yes, my princess?”

“Now—now would be good…” She was gasping, moaning, utterly lost to his touch.

“Oh? And what would be good—now?” He paused in his ministrations to admire her, and then caught her off-guard by turning her away from him, and forcing her to brace herself against the tiled wall. She whined at the cold touch of ceramic on her hot skin, but his body was against hers immediately, one hand curling around a breast, the other stroking skillfully at her clit. When his tongue and teeth discovered the shell of her ear, and then her neck, she found herself writhing desperately into his fingers, which also meant sliding wetly against the hard, thick shaft that pressed into her back and ass. His grip tightened on her. “Who knew a shower could be so much fun, angel-mine?” he murmured in honeyed, sensual tones that somehow caused the impossibly hot tension in her core to heat further.

You did—even though you’re new to showers. He loved exciting her into heady passion—loved her—and it didn’t surprise her at all that he was able to surprise her in this way. Normally he would take his time, and allow her to revel in being overwhelmed by sensation—or to kindle greater sensation in him—but something in the very pace of this unexpected encounter had her blood singing in her ears, and her nerves alight. I’m very, very wet, she thought, and then laughed aloud at the oh-so-obvious, not-so-funny joke.

“Shingen… Please? Nnngghhh… Aaaahhhhh….” She gasped, as he pinched one taut nipple, hard, and then moaned loudly—lewdly, wantonly—as he guided himself into her, filling her, stretching her, and then pulling back only to thrust in even deeper. Immensely strong, muscular arms supported and trapped her, even as her knees weakened, and she had to lean more and more against the wall, propped against her hands and one burning cheek. It took her a moment to fully register that Shingen was talking to her, both reassuring and commanding, his voice a little darker, a little lower than before.

“I’ll carry you to bed—after… Right now, I want you just where you are, so you’d better hang on for me, do you understand, sweet princess?”

“Nnnnghhh—yes—so close—Shin-gen!” The slick walls of her core were tight around his shaft—tight and clenching in quick pulses that were bringing both of them to completion.

The arm around her hips tightened again, and then he was thrusting upwards into her hard and fast, forcing her to bend and press her ass further into his hips to accommodate him. Their bodies were slick with mingled sweat and water, and if the water was beginning to cool, she didn’t notice. The blood was roaring in her ears now as she started to come.

“That’s it, angel, sing for me—that’s it, now…”

One hand slid between her legs again, pressing hard, and then two wet fingers began to stroke the sensitized, sensitive folds over and around her clit. When his calloused fingertips finally moved inward to rub at that tight, engorged bundle of nerves directly, she moaned loudly, and then cried out, unable to hold back, as the demanding, unbearable touch made her beg for both stimulation and surcease all in one breath. Moments later, orgasm crashed over her, and her body spasmed and twisted against the bruising force that continued to claim her from behind. She rocked back and forth over his hot, hard length, hips moving convulsively, tongue licking unnoticed at dry lips, eyes closed, and head back, the tile hard and cool under her clutching hands. Just as she started to tumble back into awareness, gasping and trembling, she felt Shingen reach his own climax, and could only moan softly in shared ecstasy as he rode her hard to its conclusion. He was a brilliant lover, and strong enough to catch and hold her, even though he should be wrung out himself.

The water was definitely cool now, but that was a blessing, as she leaned against the wall, still held snugly, though less tightly, in Shingen’s arm. Slowly, the roaring in her ears faded, although she was still panting like a runner after a challenging, satisfying race.

“So good… Shingen…” she managed at last. “But…what… what have you been reading up on this time?!”

After a few moments, Shingen reluctantly withdrew, and turned her to face him, smoky grey eyes bright and full of love. He ran his thumb along her jaw.

“Showers, of course—I was looking into showers.” He smiled at her, his eyebrows raising just a fraction, just enough to suggest things. “Let me take you to bed now, princess. I think I understand showers well enough at present, and while they can be very satisfying, a bed is still best for what I have in mind.”

“I think you’ll have to carry me,” she murmured, heat rising in her skin again despite everything.

He only laughed, which was fair, since he’d already lifted her into his arms, and was dabbing at both of them very inefficiently with the nearest towel. She took it from him, and did her best to at least blot most of the water from their hair and shoulders. The rest would have to wait on other things.

[END]

tags: @shell-senji @nalufever @ieyasukenshinsandwich @alloveroliver (still working on my M+ stuff, did not post on ffn lol!) @luallice @kouei116 @vespeshadowmoon @yum-chan @cherryb0mb79

#ikesen #ikesen fanfiction #takeda shingen #lemon #impracticaldemon #imp writes #no plot required

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stopforamoment · 6 years ago

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Margarita Challenge: Babysitting Betsy Beaumont

My Complete Masterlist

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda Parks Word Count: 1,670ish Rating: M for Language and Angst for Sweet Maxwell Author’s Note and Drabble Summary—This was meant to be written for @blackcatkita margarita challenge, and it should have just been a short drabble, but my muse took it in a completely different direction (um, I thought part of the challenge was for me to drink my own margaritas and see what total shit I came up with???). I’ll still write one with Rinda drunk on margaritas, I promise! Betsy Beaumont the Badass Bastard Bird needs a peacock sitter at the duchy, and Gladys and Bastien hate their jobs. Please click here if you’d like to read about Betsy and the Peacock Fiasco referenced in this drabble.

Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. Rinda and Betsy with all of their quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh. Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3 and @bobasheebaby for always being my sounding board! Thank you @silviasutton1989 @riseandshinelittleblossom @tornbetween2loves @sirbeepsalot @innerpostmentality @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @begging-for-kamilah @teamtomsato for still being a part of the journey!

Babysitting Betsy Beaumont Rinda was in her classroom, reading through the five-page, single spaced care list. There were known allergies, food preferences, comfort techniques, sleep schedule, favorite music, exercise routines . . .

Her co-teacher Laura walked in. “Is that an Instructional Education Plan for a new student? What kind of resources should we get lined up?” Rinda shook her head. “Nope. It’s for Betsy.” Laura pursed her lips, desperately trying not to laugh. “Maxwell wasn’t able to find a peacock sitter?” “Um, the peacocks are staying in the duchy with the other animals while everyone is on holiday, but Gladys doesn’t have time to deal with this shit. And Bastien promised to help, but you know how much Betsy hates his fucking guts. And Drake just laughed when Bastien asked for help, so . . . that leaves me.” Laura was bent over in silent laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. Betsy Beaumont the Badass Bastard Bird was the bane of Bastien’s existence. The bird got aggressive at the duchy Halloween Festival last fall and started stealing food from the children. Maxwell tried to corral Betsy to protect the children’s hot dogs, but Betsy was a diabolical genius who refused to get caught—until Bastien had enough and threw a blanket over Betsy’s head and unceremoniously dumped Betsy into his cage. For the rest of the evening Betsy hissed at Bastien, making his displeasure known. Betsy Beaumont hated Bastien, and the feeling was mutual. If Maxwell wanted to see Betsy alive and well at the end of his trip, Rinda knew she needed to step in. Day One At first Bastien was professional. He offered Betsy his daily hot dog, but Betsy refused to eat it. Bastien sighed, pinching his nose. “Come on, Betsy. Rinda said it’s your favorite. Please eat it so I can leave.” Betsy hissed at Bastien and turned around, spreading his magnificent plumage with disdain. “I can’t believe I’m asking for help with this.” He messaged Rinda. “The bird won’t eat the hot dog.” Rinda messaged back. “Did you heat it up?” Bastien sighed. “No.” He went to the kitchen to microwave the hot dog, and when he returned he gently poked it through the bars of the cage. Betsy didn’t even bother moving. “What? Is it too hot? Do you need it cut up?” He grabbed his Swiss Army knife and quickly cut up the hot dog and blew on a piece before tossing it toward Betsy. He hissed at Bastien. How dare Bastien throw food at him! “Fuck you, Betsy.” Bastien messaged Rinda again. “Still not eating it. I swear I’m never going to get home.” Rinda rolled her eyes when she saw the message notification. “Did you grill it?” “The bird?” “Bastien!” “No, I’m not grilling one hot dog for a fucking bird. I microwaved it.” He paused. “What else did Maxwell say?” “Check page four, paragraph two of the peacock care guide. One grilled hot dog a day with ketchup, no mustard. And no bun. Betsy is gaining weight.” Bastien pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to kill Maxwell.” “Stand in line. Just come home, and I’ll stop by tomorrow to clean up the old hot dog and grill a new one. You know Gladys won’t tell on you.”

Day Two Rinda had the peacocks outside for their daily free-range time while she grilled the hot dog, but she kept a close eye on Betsy. Everything was going well until Bastien showed up with a picnic basket. “Hey Tria! I thought we could have a picnic when you’re done!” Just then Betsy saw the blanket Bastien had draped over his arm, and he rushed Bastien who flung the picnic basket at Betsy and ran like hell. For the next ten minutes Rinda was doubled over with laughter while Betsy and his siblings picked through the picnic basket. Bastien waited in the SUV, seething with anger.

Day Three “I swear to God, Tria. The bird was laughing at me.” Rinda was trying so hard not to laugh at Bastien. He was lying on his stomach while Rinda applied an ice pack to his backside. Bastien made the amateur mistake of bending over too close to Betsy’s cage, and the bird literally bit him in the ass. “Seriously. The toy was lying right in front of the cage, and in the dark I couldn’t see what it was. And when I bent down—I swear that little fucker did it on purpose.” Days Four – Ten Rinda took care of Betsy. Day Eleven Gladys invited Rinda and Bastien to the duchy for dinner to thank them for dealing with Betsy. Several pitchers of margaritas later, Gladys and Bastien were three sheets to the wind, plotting the demise of Betsy Beaumont. Day Twelve Maxwell arrived at the duchy, eager to see his peacocks. “Hi babies! Did you miss me? Drake, good to see you smiling! Sally—I love what you did with your feathers. Boris—finger guns at ya buddy! Enid—I know. I missed you too. Joel, did you help Betsy lose weight while I was gone?” Maxwell looked around. “Where’s Betsy?” Bastien strolled past. “Maxwell. It’s good to see you. Did you want some lunch while you’re here?” A huge grin lit up Maxwell’s face. “Of course! But first I have to find Betsy. Do you know where he is?” “Rinda has him. She’s been training Betsy to do that dance routine. I think he’s almost got it.” “Really? That’s great!” They passed Gladys in the great hall. She was on the phone and had a hat and two ornate peacock feathers in her hand. “Oh, I know the Queen will love having a new hat made with his feathers. Yes, of course. Good day.” Gladys ended the call with a smile. “Hello, Maxwell. Betsy lost a couple of his feathers, and I didn’t think you’d mind if I used them to design the Queen a new hat. I thought it would be a nice way to help her remember Betsy.” Maxwell’s eyes widened when he saw the feathers in her hand. “Um. Okay.” Gladys smiled. “Thank you, Maxwell. We’re going to miss Betsy so much.”

. . . . . Maxwell dug into his lunch. “This is sooooooo delicious!!!!! I love a good burger.” Bastien cocked his head and gave Maxwell an odd smile. “Does it taste good? It isn’t too dry?” Maxwell nodded, talking with a mouthful of food. “Yeah. It’s not really juicy like the other burgers I’ve had, but it still tastes good.” Bastien hummed. “Good to know. It’s actually not a beef hamburger thought. It’s made with something a little more . . . unusual.” Just then Gladys came into the kitchen. “Bastien, do you have a moment?” “Of course, Gladys. If you’ll excuse me, Maxwell.” Bastien and Gladys talked in loud whispers, and Maxwell overheard parts of their conversation. “I just talked to Rinda, and she says it’s time. He doesn’t know yet . . . he thinks Rinda is teaching him choreography. Really? You didn’t tell him the burger is actually made from poultry?” The feathers. Gladys’ earlier comments about remembering Betsy. Bastien’s odd behavior. The loud whispers. Tears were welling in Maxwell’s eyes as he looked at the burger crumbs on his plate. “Betsy?” Bastien walked over to Maxwell and delicately cleared his throat. “Maxwell? Do you mind coming into the backyard? Rinda has something to show you.” Maxwell wiped the tears from his eyes and silently followed Bastien. Rinda was waiting outside, but there was no sign of Betsy. “Rinda. Please. Just tell me. Is he dead? Did you use him to make the burger?” Rinda looked at Maxwell like he had three heads. “The head chef? No, he’s not dead Maxwell. He’s the one who made the burger. But did you like it? I know it tastes a lot different than beef.” “Oh my God.” Maxwell turned pale and Rinda quickly stepped back. “Maxwell, please don’t puke. Please don’t puke. You know I don’t do well with that stuff. Fuck—Bastien!” Rinda was starting to gag—she was a sympathy puker. Bastien rolled his eyes. “Dammit, Maxwell. Ostrich burgers aren’t that bad. You liked it just fine before I told you it wasn’t beef.” “It wasn’t . . . Betsy? But where’s Betsy?” “Maxwell! Do you honestly think we’d butcher Betsy and make you eat him? Queen Riley wants the King to eat healthier, so the chef has been experimenting with leaner cuts of meat. Seriously? Who would eat a disgusting Betsy Burger?” Bastien was shaking his head as he ran to the patio door to grab the water bottle Gladys got for Rinda. Rinda was catching her breath and gratefully took the water from Bastien. “Thank you, Tiger. Sorry about that.” It took Rinda a moment to collect herself, and gasped when she saw the agony on Maxwell’s face. “Maxwell! Betsy’s fine. Yes, Bastien has detailed fantasies of how he’d love to kill Betsy, but he would never actually do it. Betsy’s out here because we have a surprise for you. Well, it’s from Queen Riley, and I helped a little.” They went around the corner and Maxwell squealed with joy. “Betsy! I’ve missed you. Oh my gosh! Did Riley get this for you? She did, didn’t she? Oh yes she did.” It was a small tent, and Rinda had been training Betsy to get comfortable staying in it. “See, Maxwell? Betsy really likes it. So you can use it when everyone goes camping and you want Betsy to come along. Or Betsy can sit in it if he needs shade during free-range time.”

Maxwell and Rinda were soon laughing as Betsy began showing off his choreography moves and how he loved to move in and out of his new tent. Bastien just shook his head as he walked away. “I knew I should have killed him when I had the chance.” Gladys laughed when she heard him. “Betsy or Maxwell?” “Both.”

#margarita challenge #more than a drabble #betsy beaumont #maxwell beaumont #@maxwell peacocks #trr choices #bastien lykel #rinda parks #tiger and tria #long post

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sarahmcmenomy · 6 years ago

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Tarot Reflections Playlist

I’ve been working on this for longer than I should probably admit, but I finally finished my complete Tarot Playlist! I’ve chosen one song for each card of the 78-card RWS Tarot deck. In the spirit of the little white book, I have excerpted a line or two from each song to justify its association with its chosen card. Each suit has its own musical themes, and some of the songs were chosen to invoke the elemental association of the suit. The Court Cards get their own playlist because it can double as an astrological playlist. There are also a few sillier songs picked primarily for humor value (though hopefully still in keeping with the theme of the song). What follows is a complete index, so you can easily listen to whichever parts of the playlist you want to or browse the whole thing.

Entire Playlist

Major Arcana

Wands

Cups

Swords

Pentacles

Court Cards

Major Arcana

0. The Fool: “The Wanderer” by U2, The Edge, and Johnny Cash

“I went out there in search of experience, to taste and to touch and to feel as much as a man can before he repents.”

1. The Magician: “I am the Mercury” by Jimmie Spheeris

“For I am the mercury, the light of the morning, looking for shelter in this thunder and this rain. And you, like some windmill, weave light where it's storming, and love, like a potion for the hunger and the pain. Let it rain...”

2. The High Priestess: “Witch” by The Bird and the Bee

“Yes, I am a carnival, a house of mirrors... and I will con you. And all my tricks and all my magic will keep you dizzy with desire...”

3. The Empress: “Suddenly I See” by KT Tunstall

“Her face is a map of the world, is a map of the world... You can see she's a beautiful girl, she's a beautiful girl... And everything around her is a silver pool of light; The people who surround her feel the benefit of it... It makes you calm.”

4. The Emperor: “Viva la Vida” by Coldplay

“I used to rule the world; seas would rise when I gave the word. Now in the morning, I sleep alone, sweep the streets I used to own. I used to roll the dice, feel the fear in my enemy's eyes, listen as the crowd would sing... Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!“

5. The Hierophant: “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers

“He said, ‘Son, I've made a life out of readin’ people's faces, knowin’ what the cards were by the way they held their eyes. So if you don't mind me sayin’, I can see you’re out of aces. For a taste of your whiskey, I’ll give you some advice.’”

6. The Lovers: “Dance Me to the End of Love” by Leonard Cohen

“Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on; dance me very tenderly and dance me very long. We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above... dance me to the end of love.”

7. The Chariot: “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen

“I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky! Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity. I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva, I'm gonna go, go, go! There's no stopping me!”

8. Strength: “Roar” by Katy Perry

“I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire, 'cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar, louder, louder than a lion, 'cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!”

9. The Hermit: “Building a Mystery” by Sarah McLachlan

“You live in a church where you sleep with voodoo dolls, and you won't give up the search for the ghosts in the halls... You wear sandals in the snow, and a smile that won't wash away. Can you look out the window without your shadow getting in the way?”

10. The Wheel of Fortune: “Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)” by the Byrds

“To everything (turn, turn, turn) there is a season (turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose, under heaven...”

11. Justice: “Botched Execution” by Shovels and Rope

“I gotta find a friend, someone to tell I didn't do it, but my picture's in the paper and there's no way that I can prove it... and the body's in the closet 'cause I never got to move it... Now the neighbor's kids are talking sayin' everybody knew it... All my little seeds have grown... Sooner, later, come back home...”

12. The Hanged Man: “Philosophy” by Ben Folds Five

“Won't you look up at the skyline, at the mortar, block, and glass, and check out the reflections in my eyes. See they always used to be there, even when this all was grass, and I sang and danced about a high-rise. And you were laughing at my helmet hat... Laughing at my torch...”

13. Death: “End of the Line” by The Traveling Wilburys

“Well it's all right, even when push comes to shove. Well it's all right, if you got someone to love. Well it's all right, everything'll work out fine. Well it's all right, we're going to the end of the line.”

14. Temperance: “Under Pressure” by Queen

“Turned away from it all like a blind man. Sat on a fence, but it don't work. Keep coming up with love but it's so slashed and torn... Why, why, why? Love, love, love, love, love... Insanity laughs, under pressure we're breaking.”

15. The Devil: “Sympathy for the Devil” by the Rolling Stones

“Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners saints, as heads is tails... Just call me Lucifer, 'cause I'm in need of some restraint.”

16. The Tower: “The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning” by the Smashing Pumpkins

“The sewers belch me up; the heavens spit me out. From Ether's tragic I am born again, and now I'm with you now, inside your world of wow, to move in desires made of deadly pretense, ‘til the end times begin.”

17. The Star: “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree

“Listen as your day unfolds, challenge what the future holds. Try and keep your head up to the sky.”

18. The Moon: “Hope Eyrie” by Leslie Fish

“But we who feel the weight of the wheel, when winter falls over our world, can hope for tomorrow and raise our eyes to a silver moon in the open skies and a single flag unfurled. For the Eagle has landed; tell your children when. Time won't drive us down to dust again.”

19. The Sun: “Sunshine of Your Love” by Cream

“I'm with you my love, the light's shining through on you. Yes, I'm with you my love, it's the morning and just we two. I'll stay with you darling now, I'll stay with you till my seas are dried up... I've been waiting so long, to be where I'm going, in the sunshine of your love.”

20. Judgement: “Ring the Bells” by James

“Ring, ring the bells! Wake the town! Everyone is sleeping. Shout at the crowd! Wake them up! This anger's deeper than sleep! Got to keep awake to what is happening, I can't see a thing through my ambition, I no longer feel my God is watching over me. Got to tell the world we've all been dreaming, this is not the end, a new beginning... I no longer feel my God is watching over me.”

21. The World: “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong

“The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky, are also on the faces of people going by. I see friends shaking hands, saying, ‘how do you do.’ They're really saying, ‘I love you.’ I hear babies crying, I watch them grow... they'll learn much more than I'll ever know. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”

Wands

1. The Ace of Wands: “Spark” by the Bird and the Bee

“Tell me a tale, something with fire, to break from the sorrows. To break through the dirt, piles of earth, to see where the sun goes... What if I stopped just for a while to see if I'm closer? Still half the night, just for a while to see where the sun goes, oh, oh, oh...”

2. The Two of Wands: "First We Take Manhattan” by Leonard Cohen

“I'm guided by a signal in the heavens. I'm guided by this birthmark on my skin. I'm guided by the beauty of our weapons... First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin.”

3. The Three of Wands: “Billionaire” by Travie McCoy ft. Bruno Mars

“Oh every time I close my eyes... I see my name in shining lights... Yeah, a different city every night, oh right, I swear, the world better prepare for when I'm a billionaire.”

4. The Four of Wands: “Eternal Flame” by The Bangles

“Say my name, sun shines through the rain... A whole life so lonely, and then you come and ease the pain. I don't want to lose this feeling, oh... Close your eyes, give me your hand. Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understand? Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming? Or is this burning an eternal flame?“

5. The Five of Wands: “The Ultimate Showdown” by Lemon Demon

“This is the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny: good guys, bad guys, and explosions as far as the eye can see... and only one will survive: I wonder who it will be? This is the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny.”

6. The Six of Wands: “We are the Champions” by Queen

“We are the champions, my friends, and we'll keep on fighting 'til the end! We are the champions! We are the champions! No time for losers, 'cause we are the champions of the world!”

7. The Seven of Wands: “Uprising” by Muse

“Rise up and take the power back. It's time that the fat cats had a heart attack, you know that their time is coming to an end. We have to unify and watch our flag ascend.”

8. The Eight of Wands: “Fast as you Can” by Fiona Apple

“I let the beast in and then I even tried forgiving him, but it's too soon. So I'll fight again, again, again, again, again and for a little while more, I'll soar the uneven wind, complain and blame the sterile land.”

9. The Nine of Wands: “Conquest of Spaces” by Woodkid

“I'm ready to start the conquest of spaces expanding between you and me... Come with the night, the science of fighting, the forces of gravity...”

10. The Ten of Wands: “Running up that Hill” by Kate Bush

“And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, and I'd get him to swap our places, be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building...”

Cups

1. The Ace of Cups: “Quiet” by Milck

“But no one knows me, no one ever will, if I don't say something, if I just lie still. Would I be that monster, scare them all away, if I let them hear what I have to say? I can't keep quiet.”

2. The Two of Cups: “Bus Stop” by The Hollies

“Every morning I would see her waiting at the stop. Sometimes she'd shop, and she would show me what she'd bought. Other people stared as if we were both quite insane... Someday my name and hers are going to be the same.”

3. The Three of Cups: “The Cult of Dionysus” by The Orion Experience

“I'm feeling devious, you're looking glamorous... let's get mischievous... and polyamorous. Wine and women and wonderful vices... Welcome to the cult of Dionysus!”

4. The Four of Cups: “High by the Beach” by Lana del Rey

“I don't wanna do this anymore, it's so surreal. I can't survive if this is all that's real... All I wanna do is get high by the beach, get high by the beach, get high...”

5. The Five of Cups: “What Have I Done to Deserve This?” by The Pet Shop Boys

“I bought you drinks, I brought you flowers. I read you books and talked for hours... Every day, so many drinks, such pretty flowers. So tell me, what have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this?”

6. The Six of Cups: “In My Life” by The Beatles

“There are places I'll remember, all my life, though some have changed... Some forever, not for better. Some have gone and some remain...”

7. The Seven of Cups: “Which Will” by Nick Drake

“Which do you dance for? Which makes you shine? Which will you choose now, if you won't choose mine?”

8. The Eight of Cups: “Go West” by The Pet Shop Boys

“(Go West) Life is peaceful there, (go West!) in the open air, (go West!) where the skies are blue... (go West!) This is what we're gonna do.”

9. The Nine of Cups: “No Surprises” by Radiohead

“Such a pretty house... and such a pretty garden... No alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, please...”

10. The Ten of Cups: “Rainbow Connection” by Kermit the Frog

“Someday we'll find it, the Rainbow Connection... the lovers, the dreamers and me.”

Swords

1. The Ace of Swords: “One” by U2

“You say love is a temple, love is a higher law... Love is a temple, love is a higher law. You ask me of me to enter, but then you make me crawl, and I can't keep holding on to what you got, 'cause all you got is hurt.”

2. The Two of Swords: “I Can’t Decide” by The Scissor Sisters

“I can't decide whether you should live or die... Oh, you'll probably go to heaven; please don't hang your head and cry...”

3. The Three of Swords: “The Killing Type” by Amanda Palmer

"I would kill to make you feel. I don't mean kill someone for real. I couldn't do that, it is wrong... But I can say it in a song.”

4. The Four of Swords: “Take it Easy” by The Eagles

“Take it easy, take it easy. Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy. Lighten up while you still can, don't even try to understand, just find a place make your stand. Take it easy.”

5. The Five of Swords: “Young Men Dead” by the Black Angels

“Run for the hills, pick up your feet and let's go. We did our jobs, pick up speed now, let’s move. The trees can't grow without the sun in their eyes, and we can't live if we're too afraid to die.”

6. The Six of Swords: “I Will Survive” by Cake

“At first I was afraid, I was petrified. I kept thinking I could never live without you by my side. But then I spent so many nights just thinking how you'd done me wrong. I grew strong; I learned how to get along.”

7. The Seven of Swords: “Sabotage” by The Beastie Boys

“I can't stand it, I know you planned it! I'mma set it straight, this Watergate. I can't stand rockin' when I'm in here, 'cause your crystal ball ain't so crystal clear. So while you sit back and wonder why I got this fuckin' thorn in my side, oh my god, it's a mirage! I'm tellin' y'all, it's sabotage.”

8. The Eight of Swords: “Whipping Post” by the Allman Brothers Band

“Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel, like I been tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post. Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.”

9. The Nine of Swords: “Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” by A Perfect Circle

“Don't fret, precious, I'm here. Step away from the window, and go back to sleep... safe from pain, and truth, and choice... and other poison devils. See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do. Count lies like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep, like sheep...”

10. The Ten of Swords: “Hurt” by Johnny Cash

“I hurt myself today to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real. The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting. Try to kill it all away, but I remember everything. What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end.”

Pentacles

1. The Ace of Pentacles: “Dime” by Cake

“I'm a dime, I'm fine, and I shine. I'm freshly minted. I am determined not to be dented by a car or by a plane or anything not yet invented...”

2. The Two of Pentacles: “Down to Earth” by Peter Gabriel

“Did you think that your feet had been bound by what gravity brings to the ground? Did you feel you were tricked by the future you picked? Well, come on down. All these rules don't apply when you're high in the sky, so come on down, come on down.”

3. The Three of Pentacles: “With a Little Help from My Friends” by Joe Cocker

“What would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me? Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song, I will try not to sing out of key.”

4. The Four of Pentacles: “This is the Life” by “Weird Al” Yankovic

“They say that money corrupts you, but I can't really tell... I got the whole world at my feet, and I think it's pretty swell.”

5. The Five of Pentacles: “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by The Rolling Stones

“No, you can't always get what you want... You can't always get what you want... You can't always get what you want... But if you try sometimes, you find, you get what you need.”

6. The Six of Pentacles: “Rent” by The Pet Shop Boys

“We never ever argue, we never calculate the currency we've spent... I love you, you pay my rent “

7. The Seven of Pentacles: “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac

“I took my love, I took it down, climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills ‘til the landslide brought me down.”

8. The Eight of Pentacles: “The Weaver” by Steeleye Span

“The loom goes click and the loom goes clack; the shuttle flies forward and then flies back. The weaver's so bent that he's like to crack... such a wearisome trade is the weaver.”

9. The Nine of Pentacles: “My Way” by Frank Sinatra

“I've loved, I've laughed and cried. I've had my fill, my share of losing. And now, as tears subside, I find it all, all so amusing... To think I did all that, and may I say, not in a shy way... oh no, no, not me. I did it my way.”

10. The Ten of Pentacles: “Monument” by Röyskopp and Robyn

“This will be my monument. This will be a beacon when I'm gone, gone, gone... When I'm gone, gone, gone... When I'm gone... So that when that moment comes, I can say I did it all with love, love, love... All with love, love, love... All with love.”

Court Cards

Wands

1. The Page of Wands: “The Arsonist’s Lullaby” by Hozier

“All you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. Don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash.”

2. The Knight of Wands (Sagittarius, the Archer): “Portrait of the Knight of Wands” by Suzanne Vega

“His mood was melancholy, his attitude severe. His inner burden weighed upon him mightily.”

3. The Queen of Wands (Aries, the Ram): “The Queen of Hollywood” by the Corrs

“She's never gonna be like the one before. She read it in her stars that there's something more. No matter what it takes, no matter how she breaks...”

4. The King of Wands (Leo, the Lion): “King and Lionheart” by Of Monsters and Men

“And as the world comes to an end, I'll be here to hold your hand, 'cause you're my king and I'm your lion-heart.”

Cups

1. The Page of Cups: “The Salmon Dance” by The Chemical Brothers

“Hello, boys and girls, my name is Fat Lip, and this is my friend, Sammy the Salmon! Today we're gonna teach you some fun facts about salmon and a brand new dance.”

2. The Knight of Cups (Pisces, the Fishes): “Knight of Noir” by Susanne Sundfor

“I can't go back again and lock the door. In the dead of night I hear her call out for more. I want to be stung by the stars, I gave her my soul and my heart, and now I am a slave.”

3. The Queen of Cups (Cancer, the Crab): “The Queen and I” by Gym Class Heroes

“I love it how she breaths booze in the morning... and it’s so sexy how she can't remember last night... I made the fatal mistake of letting her drink again. But who the hell am I to tell her how to live her life?”

4. The King of Cups (Scorpio, the Scorpion): “Sea King” by Eisley

“Sea King, Sea king, can't you see that you're so silly? Sea King, I know things, and without love you won't get far...”

[Honorable mention: Franz Schubert’s rendition of Goethe’s “Der Koenig in Thule” is probably the ultimate King of Cups song, but it felt too different in musical style -- and language -- to include in this playlist. Still, it’s gorgeous, and the lyrics are perfect.]

Swords

1. The Page of Swords: “The Sword and the Pen” by Regina Spektor

“What if the sword kills the pen? What if the god kills the man? And if he does it with love, well then, it's death from above, and death from above is still a death...”

2. The Knight of Swords (Gemini, the Twins): “Knights of Cydonia” by Muse

“No one's going to take me alive. Time has come to make things right. You and I must fight for our rights. You and I must fight to survive.”

3. The Queen of Swords (Libra, the Scales): “My Snow White Queen” by Evanescence

“You belong to me, my snow white queen... There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over.”

4. The King of Swords (Aquarius, the Water Bearer): “The Idiot Kings” by Soul Coughing

“Batting in the light, my reptile-lidded eyes. And all this strung end to end, is wider than the mind.”

Pentacles

1. The Page of Pentacles: “Sweet Child” by Pentangle

“You've been working so hard all day, won't you take your rest? You've been driving my blues away, now it is my turn. Come fly beneath my wings, sweet child it may not be for long.”

2. The Knight of Pentacles (Virgo, the Virgin): “Knights of Malta” by Smashing Pumpkins

“Where omens scar your door... Like a harvest we're bound and set for war... But no soldier comes...”

3. The Queen of Pentacles (Capricorn, the Goat): "Dreaming of the Queen” by The Pet Shop Boys

“Then carriages arrived... We stood and said goodbye. Diana dried her eyes and looked surprised, for I was in the nude. The old Queen disapproved, but people laughed and asked for autographs.”

4. The King of Pentacles (Taurus, the Bull): “A Farewell to Kings” by Rush

“Cities full of hatred, fear and lies, withered hearts, and cruel, tormented eyes... Scheming demons dressed in kingly guise, beating down the multitude, and scoffing at the wise. Whoa, can't we raise our eyes and make a start? Can't we find the minds to lead us closer to the heart?”

Giant shout-out to the Tarot Nerds Facebook Group for inspiring me. You are the best.

#tarot #playlist #tarot playlist

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