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messwriting · 3 years

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(my saddle’s waiting) ride it

Iwaizumi “Big Guns” Hajime x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Being ridiculous in front of your crush. Porn With Plot. Not researched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Oral in a public space (bathroom); Cock-blocked Interrupted orgasms; Masturbation/fingering; Fingering in public (street), then while driving. Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving. Fucking against a door, then a wall. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Side Tendou/Oikawa. Bit of a teasing, overconfident Iwachan. A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers.

Word count: WAY TOO BIG. +11k.

Note: 🤠 Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me: LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠 electric bogaloo

You guys know the drill @dymphnasprose started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up, working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM 🥺💕💕

This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.

Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both @vanille--kiss and @oneblonded for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible. 💕 As always a big thanks to @mixedhell who always helps me when I’m troubled <3

Iwa’s song: Pony (of course)

You can also read: MAKKI | MATTSUN

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, hate, hate morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it.

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in time, reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, of course, because when have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad.

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you wished Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you anytime. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind.

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts.

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer yes while trying to shrink into the chair.

See. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is.

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?”

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture.

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more.

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up killing you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of CUTECUTECUTE and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, ah…” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, God really has favorites. “I’m trying, but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but gasp, and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a brat and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the hottest, most amazing Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had.

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. Of course it’s him. It wouldn’t be you if this didn’t happen.

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.”

Sure, of course, you dumbass did.

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was uhhh just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Yes. Marry me. Or just fucking, you’re not picky.

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just too much. Iwaizumi looks just so good up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be illegal.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face.

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

“Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.”

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. Lawbreakers. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are late. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill.

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s cheesy, definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well.

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free.

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.”

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that.

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting.

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely not expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being grinded on stage.

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is burning in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up.

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing.

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so…open, and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified.

Well, you’re already liking the place.

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s fine. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and full; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands, the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage.

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and more.

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh.

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, biggest outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with big, pretty or animals thrown around.

“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?” You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. “Oh, wow.”

“Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a big softie he actually is under all that hard, big, brute exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore.

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain.

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered.

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs.

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand.

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream.

Yours, to be even more specific.

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into.

Your TA is a stripper. And a very good, famous one at that.

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends.

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed.

“What? Can’t even look at me now?”

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat.

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast.

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not you,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re sure he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by.

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

Not the only thing that’s flexible. You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.”

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely gorgeous.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and vulnerable. And you just about fall deeper for him right there.

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it.

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… yes, I mean, sure. It was… quite incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke.

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker.

"Iwa-channn~''

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up.

“Okay, uh, good show?”

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. Meaningful. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands.

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation.

Hajime smirks. They haven’t even started yet.

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is delighted that your eyes remain on him.

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power.

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body.

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for you.

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him.

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- someone’s eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around.

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s you only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief.

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away.

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that.

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to know you and it all blew in his face.

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into opressing and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like that.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands.

Fuck, Iwaizumi can’t get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining your hands on his body instead of hers; your hips against his as he grinds on hers; your mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name.

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face?

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let them feel what you are doing to him and then - finally - he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and fuck, Iwaizumi is thrilled.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you.

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to you the same things I did with them?”

“No,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do more.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but melt, blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss.

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight.

“Go wait for me in the corridor, quick.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole big thing going on inside his briefs.

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, quick, I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye.

The door to the backstage is signaled with nothing, the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time.

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually meet him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside.

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips.

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, fuck.”

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking thrill that having Hajime kissing and holding you is enough to cause.

“Are you insane?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I wasn’t interested.”

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something soft you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He groans, fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...”

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance.

“Oh fucking christ!” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji-fuck!”

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins.

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door.

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably pleased at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~”

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking assholes. Can’t give me one fucking moment when they’re the ones always doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin.

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time.

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is nervous and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.”

Jesus Christ, didn’t he get it yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa chuckles, hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing.

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, shaken. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re dripping between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine.

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re throbbing, uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there pantiless as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to end your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling.

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours.

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all worse, a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you just how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the need in his grasp on your hips.

“I think we’ve waited too long.”

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass.

“Yours.”

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so.

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re not on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb.

“Iwa,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door.

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “Iwa!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, frenzied, throbbing with need. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care.

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “Iwa,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets.

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to me.” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength delicious.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he knows. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a good girl or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to smirk.

“I can be so good, baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise.

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath.

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one.

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way.

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words.

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to just fuck you.

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again.

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back.

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside.

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

"Jesus," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching paradise. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you do, his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve never felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before.

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise.

As you squeeze “Hajime” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his, he soothes you with kisses all over your face.

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode.

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re smitten. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

“Wow.” You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,” Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive “No can’t do, baby.” He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips.

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and ride it?”

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab #cw exhibitionism

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 3 years

Text

Multi-Dimensional Pt. 5

In which you have a genius idea to take these suckers out, you accidentally do something you’re not supposed to, and you take the taller bit of your friends out.

----

And then, you realize, that it's getting deeper into October.

As it got deeper into October, the dwarves and hobbit remain in your house. It's been a total of 2 1/2 weeks, now, and you can tell they're getting antsy from staying in one place for so long.

Like, around halloween time.

An idea strikes you in the head like a bag of bricks, and right away you realize that you're a genius.

You're sitting on the couch with Bilbo, Oin, and Bofur when the lightbulb goes off in your head suddenly, and once it does you hop to your feet and run upstairs at top speed, successfully baffling everyone idly watching the nature documentary you put on.

You pass Dwalin and Balin while you zoom to your bedroom, and when they see you run past them like freaking Speedy Gonzales they're both super confused.

Right away you grab your laptop off your bed and pull up a window.

The keys of your compute clack softly while you type in your town as well as 'Halloween Festival' and the first few results as well as images on the Google engine prove your theory.

Every year here people dress up in advance and celebrate throughout the duration of the week leading up to it. Of course, the trick-or-treating only happens on the day of, but there are a plethora of other things for people to do during that week.

People dress up, children go on field trips, there's a festival, and even the grocery stores have little events they put on to promote their business.

You've never really gone before since crowded places aren't the most comfortable for you, but you actually feel a little giddy about taking them all to see the town with you.

Right away you know you're going to have to buy them all costumes, but for the last week you've been pet sitting this rich couples Rag-doll cat, Princess, and your going rate is $18/hr for a week... Do the math ;).

You're going to get paid later in the day today after you drop her back off at their house, and that's not even accounting for the other animals you've been watching for varying amounts as well.

So, essentially, you're gonna be perfectly fine financially.

Anyways, as soon as you're done doing your little bit of research there on your computer you close it and leave your room again, hopping down the stairs with a big bright smile on your face.

When you reenter the living room, everyone is gathered there and looking at you expectantly.

At first, you don't do or say anything since you're super confused, but when the silence begins to drag on for too long you ask hesitantly, "Uh... Is everything alright? What's going on?"

"Well, you left to your room very quickly." Bilbo comments, standing up from his spot on the couch, "But from the smile on your face, I'm assuming it wasn't because of anything bad?"

You nod your head and sigh, leaning down to pet Mittens who is rubbing herself against your legs, "Yeah, everything's fine. It's great, actually." You pause for dramatic effect, then add, "I just figured out a way to take all of you out! Like, to see the town and stuff!"

"You have?" Thorin asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Mmhm!" You stand up straight and nod your head quickly, bouncing on the balls of your feet, "See, I figured I'd probably be able to take you and maybe Kili, Bofur, and Dwalin out at some point... like, if some of you were to groom yourselves different or wear hats...," once more you stop your speech and realize that may be offensive, "N-Not that I think there's anything wrong with how you look-"

"Nobody is offended, I'm sure. Go on." Thorin urges, amusement present on their faces from your sudden frantic backtracking so you don't offend them.

"R-Right, uh... anyways, you guys are taller so I knew I could probably bring you along sometime, but I wasn't sure how to get everyone else to come along, and then I realized that this next week is the week leading up to halloween!" You say it like it will answer all their questions, forgetting that they probably don't know what halloween is.

Silence passes by for a few seconds as they wait for you to go on, and when you don't Kili asks, "What's 'halloween'?"

"Oh, yeah, it's like, a holiday where children dress up and go to peoples houses to get candy. And when I say dress up, I mean in costumes." You rub the back of your neck while you explain and add, "In my city, the place we are now, we celebrate throughout the whole week. There are games, festivals, and lots of events... and there are people running around in masks all of the time. So I can get some of you costumes and then I can bring you all along!" Your smile returns as you pick apart the details, and it seems your excitement is contagious.

"Wait, so we will get to walk around the town and see other things?" Nori questions, looking over at his brothers with a smile.

"Yeah, but I gotta get you costumes first. Like, ghosts and some masks of different things. But if we wanna make the most of our time then I should probably go now."

You turn after that and go to the counter to grab your purse, pausing when Balin asks, "So it's a holiday where people run around in disguises, getting candy, and playing games as a community?"

Once again you nod your head, turning around to look at him with the same bright smile on your face.

"So, anyone can be anyone?" The older dwarf asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yeah, pretty much." You look down and go through your purse, making sure everything you need is in there before walking over to put on your tennis shoes.

"Even the man who was here the week before?"

Now that certainly gives you a pause.

Before you were never worried about it, but now with what's happened with him, you aren't so sure that it's so safe anymore.

"Um... yeah, I guess." You'd rather not think about it, so you start to tie your laces up. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Well, you already said that you can bring some of us, so why not do that now? Just to make sure?" Balin asks, though it's more of a 'you should really do it cause we're gonna freak out if you don't'.

You don't respond and instead finish tying your shoes first, thinking over his request.

When you're done doing up your shoes you turn and see that they're all looking at you with similar expressions of worry, and it makes you sigh, "Okay, fine. But whoever goes can't wear their normal clothes cause people will be weirded out. The halloween thing doesn't start for another day."

There's a moment of silence while some of them exchange looks before Thorin speaks, "You mentioned Kili and myself first. Surely that should be fine."

"Um..." You look between the two and tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, arms crossed over your chest. "Sure. But your hair is definitely going to stick out, Thorin."

He nods his head in understanding.

"And what about me?" Kili asks eagerly. It seems he's really excited about finally being able to leave your property.

"You're fine, I think. Am I taking both of you?" You inquire with furrowed eyebrows, walking a few steps forward.

"You might as well." Kili says with a big silly smile.

Well, you can't argue with that logic.

You shrug your shoulders and head up the stairs again, "Alright, go get changed into some of the clothes I gave you."

---

Once they're dressed in t-shirts and sweatpants (you didn't know their sizes so you got whatever would fit at the time) you observe them both with narrowed eyes while rubbing your chin.

"Hm... On a scale of 1 to 10, I give Kili a 9 and Thorin a 6." You say after a moment, turning to look at everyone else and get their opinions.

"What is the scale referring to?" Fili pipes up suddenly, looking up at you.

"How convincing they are."

"Why do I get a 6?" Thorin grumbles, looking at you pointedly.

"Your hair." You reply simply, walking over with a hair tie stretched between your fingers, "Hold still."

You gather his hair over his shoulders and pull it back, putting his hair through it and wrapping it around until it's nice and tight.

As soon as you're finished, you step around him and look to see if it's made a difference, and when you've determined that it's good, you smile, "Okay, now it's at least an 8." You turn towards Kili and ask, "Your hair is fine, right? Or do you want me to put it up?"

He doesn't say anything and neither does anyone else, and when the silence persists you raise an eyebrow, "Hello? Earth to Kili, I just asked you a question."

"Uh, no, you don't have to, thank you." He shakes his head and seems to come to some sort of realization since he starts to smile at his uncle in that big teasing grin you've, unfortunately, become accustomed to.

You nod your head and skip back over to the counter, swiping your keys off of it before heading to the front door.

"Come out whenever, I'm gonna get my car started."

Once you're out of the house some of the dwarves begin to laugh, and Kili pokes fun at his uncle, "Thorin, you have quite a red face, are you sure you can go?"

Thorin glares at his nephew and replies coldly, "She meant nothing by it."

"Right, but is that disappointment I hear?"

The glare he throws his nephew is so withering it could suck the life right out of a flower, but Kili is no flower, so he only laughs more.

"She offered to do yours too, you know." Fili adds when he begins to feel bad for his uncle.

Kili pauses his laughter and glares at his brother, "But she didn't do it."

"She would've."

"Oh hush, you're just upset that she didn't ask to do your hair." Kili shoots back, glaring at his brother.

"I am not, because unlike everyone else, I knew she meant naught by asking." He shoots back with a smirk.

Kili huffs indignantly and glares at his brother, saying no more as he heads out the door after you.

Thorin turns to everyone before following and states, "Try not to destroy anything while we are gone." His voice is firm and he waits until he gets nods from them all before leaving after you.

---

Once you're all in the car you put it into drive and go, turning up the radio so the car won't be completely filled with silence while you drive.

Occasionally, you'll glance at Thorin in the passenger seat or Kili in the back, and each time you do they're looking out the window at the passing scenery with awe.

"If you're impressed now, wait until we get into the big city." You comment suddenly, smiling to yourself while you watch the road ahead.

And when you do arrive in the city, they are impressed indeed.

The gasp that leaves Kili when you drive through the first big street draws a giggle from you, and when he presses his face against the window as you pull into the parking lot of the seasonal halloween store, your smile grows even bigger.

Even Thorin is impressed by all the wonderful things around, and when you turn off the car after parking you turn to look at them, "Thoughts so far?"

"It's wonderful." Kili breathes, looking at the bright, moving signs and huge stores all around.

"Yes, I don't believe I've ever seen anything so grand before." Thorin agrees, looking over at you with a smile of his own.

"Well if this impresses you, wait until we get inside the store. Try not to get scared."

---

The three of you eventually make it inside, and when you do they are in awe once more.

The seasonal store is dark with black painted walls and bright white florescent lights, and there are various halloween and horror things everywhere.

When you walk in there is one of those electronic jump-scare things, and while you were expecting it, the poor dears behind you weren't.

The witch thing pops out and cackles loudly, saying one of her many phrases, and as soon as she does both Kili and Thorin freak out. And when I say freak out, I mean 'pulled out some small weapons they decided to bring and screaming' freak out.

Luckily there is no one around at the moment, so you step between them and the witch and laugh nervously, "Put those away please. We're gonna get kicked out if anyone sees you with those."

They look between you and the electronic woman a few times before slowly putting their knives away and relaxing their stances.

"Thank you..."

"What is that?" Kili asks, glaring at the ugly jump-scare machine while you walk past it.

"It's a halloween decoration designed to scare people. And it seems like it worked too." You reply easily, looking back at them with a more mischievous smile.

Kili looks around slightly nervously and grumbles defensively, "I wasn't that scared... Uncles screams are what startled me."

"My screams? Kili, let's not lie now, clearly you were horrified." Thorin says disapprovingly, shaking his head.

"Aw, you guys are cute." You purr jokingly, waltzing up to the kids costumes isle.

They stop arguing after that.

You browse through the messy shelves quietly for a little while, trying to find the best ones, when you see a doggie in the cutest ghost costume.

A squeal leaves your lips when you see the cutie pie and you cup your cheeks as an adoring expression comes onto your face.

Without hesitation you hop over to the owner and ask excitedly, "Where did you get that?"

The man with the dog looked up quickly upon hearing your excited yelp and when he saw your exuberant form he smiled too, "I bought it a week ago here. They're near the back."

His answer fills you with joy, and you continue to stare at his pupper for a moment before he says, "You can pet her if you want, she doesn't bite."

He doesn't need to tell you twice.

You kneel down right away and scratch behind her ears, and her tail begins to wag wildly at the attention.

It seems that she likes you just as much, because she takes a seat and leans into you when you scratch her all over like you do with your dogs. It's at that moment when you begin to wonder if she'll fit in your purse.

Before you can finish your calculations and plans on stealing this mans dog you hear someone clear their throat and you realize then that you forgot all about Thorin and Kili.

You turn your head and see the two of them standing there with amused expressions on their faces.

Upon realization that they're watching you, and have been for a little while now, you jump to your feet and feel your face heat up. "I-If you make fun of me I'll leave both of you here." You threaten very unconvincingly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kili starts to laugh but he doesn't say anything about it, looking at his uncle who also releases a few chuckles of his own.

You glance back at the man and see that he's looking at them, and you realize he probably thinks Kili's short stature is a little odd.

"U-Uh, thanks for letting me pet your dog!" You say quickly, heading back over to the two of them with a blush on your cheeks.

You turn back to the shelves of costumes and the man and his dog walk away, and once their gone you glare at the two of them half heartedly. "You guys are total meanies." There is faux bitterness in your voice when you speak as well, and it only brings more laughter from them.

"I only find it cute." Kili states, smiling good naturedly before continuing, "Every time you see an animal you get very excited."

"Cause I love animals."

"Yes, we can tell." Thorin muses, stepping up next to you to look at the spiderman mask in your hand.

You tap your foot against the ground a few times before putting the mask back.

A ghost costume for Bilbo; check.

That is all.

You literally don't have anything for anyone else, and honestly you're beginning to think that it's impo-

And then another idea hits you.

Class of middle/high-schoolers in a fantasy club. It's farfetched and barely believable, but most people won't say anything about it out of fear of being offensive, so it's perfect!

You don't have to buy them costumes at all (minus Bilbo), all you need is stuff to make them look less like dwarves and more like children pretending to be dwarves.

It sounds easier than it actually is, but you think you can pull it off. All you need is some netting, makeup, wigs, and nose and scar wav and you'll be set.

Once you get this idea you run away from the kids section with the ghost section and head toward the halloween makeup isle, seeking out the items mentioned previously without hesitation.

You find what you're looking for in minutes, and once you've got everything you zoom to the checkout since you're going to need to look up some tips on how to pull this off.

You're so excited you nearly forget to make sure Kili and Thorin are still with you, but once you see them you smile in relief and pay for everything.

Once you're all back in your car, Thorin asks, "I thought we were going to get masks?"

"Well, we were. But then I had an amazing idea consisting of pretending you're all students or something who invested in really expensive dwarf costumes. It's perfect, 'cause no one will ask and we'll get lots of compliments."

Thorin nods his head slowly and puts his belt on like you showed him, but before you go you turn and look at Kili expectantly.

The young dwarf doesn't say anything at first, but when your staring consists he asks slowly, "What...?"

"Put on your seatbelt."

There's more silence until he puts it on, raising an expectant eyebrow at you, "Is that better?"

"Much."

#the company x reader #the company of thorin oakenshield #reader insert #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #kili x reader #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #kili #fili

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daydreamingsora-fics · 4 years

Text

gn! reader with Trichotillomania

Rq: Are you alright with writing about a mental disorder? Trichotillomania? It’s totally fine if you’re not! （╹◡╹） I think a simple head cannon would do! Could the characters be: Yachi, Tsukishima, Akaashi, and possibly Osamu? Ah, gender neutral. Most definitely. A fluff! They’re fluffy uwu. What exactly is trichotillomania? Well, it’s a mental disorder and it has your pulling out your own hair. And most of time it’s difficult to resist the urge to pull. My family isn’t very supportive of this problem I have, so it would be nice to imagine a supportive HQ character... Could we have the reader admitting they have trichotillomania and then the character doing a bunch of research to help them out?

A/N: Hello! I hope you’re doing well and having a great time. Sorry if this request took a while in posting. I did a small research about Trichotillomania and I hope you find some ways to resist it, even though I know it’s not that easy. I also hope you overcome it! I will always support you! anyways, here’s your request , I hope you enjoy this. Have a great day! as always take care and stay safe everyone! THIS IS ALSO UNEDITED.

WARNINGS: mention of mental disorder

CHARACTERS: Yachi Hitoka, Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji, & Miya Osamu

YACHI HITOKA

at first, Yachi didn’t notice your actions of pulling your hair off but she notice that how wispy your hair is.

so she thought having wispy hair was only part of your genes.

but when she saw your parents, none of them have wispy hairs, hence their hair are silkier.

so one time when the two of your are walking home, she asked you on why your hair is not like your parents’t

you went on silent for a while but then admitted to her that you are experiencing trichotillomania.

she was confused at first as was not familiar what it is about but you then explained to her the meaning of it and she suddenly had an internal crisis.

she immediately bowed down 90 degrees, and repeatedly said sorry to you.

“Sorry, Y/N-san! I didn’t know”

“Sorry for judging you!”

“I’m such a bad person”

you just laughed at her and told her it was fine then continued walking home.

as soon as Yachi arrived in her house, she immediately went to her room and did some research about your condition and looked for some ways to overcome it.

she wanted to help to you to overcome your disorder, so she listed everthing that could actually help you.

on the next day, when Yachi sees you on your classroom, she immediately went you and told you about what she researched.

she gave you 2 pages lists of ways that could help you in overcoming your disorder.

“Y/N! I did some research about trichotillomania and some ways to overcome it! I listed all the ways that could help you and if you find it difficult, I could help you!”

Yachi said as she gave an eye smile that made your heartbeat skipped.

“Oh! let me read the things you can do—”

she started to ramble about it and you just chuckled on how excited she is, as she tells you about it.

“chill, yachi, I’m currently having my therapy but this would also help me a lot. thank you so much!”

you pulled her into a hug which made yachi’s face turns to red but she also hugs you back.

you are grateful to have her in your life, you’ve never felt supported like this before.

with Yachi being this supportive, you can’t help but feel more motivated and more confident wit yourself.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

Tsukisihima might act that he doesn’t care but deep inside he truly cares.

he observes your actions and distinguish that you have this habit of pulling off the strand of your hair.

at first, he thought you only does this habit when you feel stress and worn out.

but eventually found out that you always does that.

he mostly sees you does that absentmindledly.

one time, when the two of you are relaxing in the living room of your shared apartment, he catches you pulling the strand of your hair.

before your could pull another strand of your hair, he intertwined his hand to yours and brings it down between your thigh and his.

you were taken by surprise when he does that and looked his face then notice that there’s a hint of blush on his face.

“why do you always pull the strand of your hair?”

he straightforwardly asks you as he kept his gaze on the television but his attention is on you.

you looked down on your intertwined hands as you bit your lips, thinking if you should told him about your disorder.

you remained quiet for a while and tsukishima notices your silence, so he gave your hand a light squeeze as a sign of assurance.

“well you know, since I was a kid, I always pull my hair and my parents noticed that so they brought me to a psychiatrist and I was diagnosed of trichotillomania.”

Tsukishima was actually shocked when he heard about your mental disorder.

but even so, he remained calm.

he asked you if you took therapy before and told him yes but it didn’t turns out well.

After he learned about your disorder, he actually look for some ways to resist on pulling your hair.

he secretly did some research on how to overcome your condition.

he actually helps you with resisting the urge of doing it.

one time, when you are stressing over college, tsukishima immediately notice how your hands starts to fidget and how you scratches your head.

he knew that you’re having the urge to pull your hair out again, so he took some scratch papers and gave it you.

your attention diverted to the scratch papers he is handing to you and stares at it with some confusion.

“Tear this apart, dumbass. rather than pulling your hair out because of stress, vent your stress here in the scratch papers by tearing it apart.”

he said it while his hand is resting on the back of his neck.

you cooed at him as he sent you a glare and let out a “tch”

you went to him and gave him a tight hug then kissed him on his cheeks which made him blush.

you gave him a soft smile that made his gaze softened the also gave you kiss on your forehead.

he will help you to overcome your disorder, and he will be there for you every time.

AKAASHI KEIJI

he had already notices your actions in pulling your hair and he also catches you on how you tug handful of your hairs when you feel stress or worn out.

he knew that this is not just a bad habit of yours, so he did some research and knew that your actions are similar to the people who are experiencing trichotillomania.

one time, when the two of you were just hanging out in the living of your shared apartment, he catches you absentmindedly, pulling some strands of your hair as you watch the series on the tv.

Akaashi’s eyes widen when he saw you’re about to put the strand into your mouth.

but before you could do it, he immediately took your hand away from your mouth and rest it on his lap.

“Y/N! don’t eat your hair!”

his eyes are still wide open and his worries can be heard in his voice while the grip on your hand went tighter.

you were shocked for a second by his action but then your gaze went your lap.

you bit your lips as you felt embarrassed for yourselves and worry about akaashi leaving you if he find out about your mental disorder.

Akaashi let out a sigh as he intertwined his hand to yours and gave light squeeze.

he knew that it’s about time to ask you, if you really are experiencing a trichotillomania.

“love, do you perhaps experience trichotillomania?” he carefully ask.

your gaze went from your lap to his eyes when you heard his questions.

your eyes are wide open as you didn’t expect him to know about the mental disorder and you eventually confirmed it to him with a silent nod.

he asked you if you ever had a therapy and you answered him that you didn’t as your family doesn’t really support you with your mental disorder.

they only think that it’s a bad habit of yours and you’re just over reacting to it.

after he heard about it, he pulled you into a tight hug and cradled you in his lap.

he patted your head and you some comforting words as you lay your head on his shoulders.

ever since then, he started helping you to overcome it and stops you when you urges to pull your hair.

he did a lot research on how to overcome it and suggest some ways to you.

he even encourages you to attend therapy as he reassures you he will be by your side every session.

the two of you does it step by step until you fully overcome your trichotillomania.

MIYA OSAMU

Osamu is like tsukishima, he will notice your actions and will confront you about it.

he is at first confused on why you do that as you doesn’t seem look stress and you always show your jolliness.

but when he learned about your situation, he will then do his research about it.

he would even ask his brother on what he does when he feels anxious, stress or worn out.

but the only answer he got from him Atsumu is play volleyball.

Osamu would most likely tries to distract you so you could prevent yourself from pulling your hair off.

he would always ask your for some assistance in the kitchen.

the two of you would make onigiri together which you probably enjoy.

when the two of you are in the apartment, the two of you cooks together.

however, even though you cooking can distract your hands, you still have the urge to pull your hair off.

with that, osamu suggested some habits for you to pay attention with.

one of his suggestion is cross stitching, which actually lead the two of you to be somehow addicted to it.

the two of you enjoys doing cross stitch together, especially when the two of you do it as a competition.

which one looks better, or which one is way more cuter.

cross stitch really helps you lot to distract your hands and it also gives you a peace of mind.

however, even though, you busy yourselves with cooking and cross stitch, there were still time where you can resist and that’s when you’re feeling frustrated.

so with that, Osamu suggest you to have a therapy.

he even promised to you the he will be there with you and will never leave your side.

Osamu is the type of person that is quiet around with other people, and they may think that he don’t care about his surrounding.

but with you, he always care and you will always be part of his priority.

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beanie-beebo-writes · 3 years

Text

It follows

Series Summary: Reader is running from financial problems and his/her studies, will they catch up with him/her? Charlie's close friends (none other than Sam and Dean) go to check up on the reader due to Charlie becoming worried for him/her. Trouble pursues, as the reader wants to keep silent about his/her struggles.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Chapter 14

Dean focused intently on driving down city side-streets, just in case if the creature back there decided to trail after them. He was bewildered, and honestly didn't know what to think, but he tried not to get too lost in thought as he sped to the motel. Hell, he was lucky he wasn't a midnight snack, based on the way it tried to ravish both Dean and itself.. For a good couple of minutes, the drive was silent, except for the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and an occasional thought passing through your mind.

"What exactly happened back there?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, I really don't. But whatever we are hunting, it is not a werewolf." Dean replied.

"Did you see what it was?" You asked curiously.

"That's the thing, I did, but, it wasn't anything I've seen before." Dean said.

You and Sam stared at Dean, hoping the discomfort would force him to continue explaining. As you expected, he glanced from the road, back at both of you.

"What?!" He finally asked.

"What did it look like?" Sam inquired.

"Well, it was in the form of this beautiful woman. It looked normal, at least until I slashed it with the silver knife; which had no effect on it, by the way. And it used some sort of power, healing the wound instantly. Not like angel mojo, but… I don't know." Dean explained.

"Anything else?" You asked, feeling like he was holding back.

"Um… well, it's like she put a spell on me." Dean admitted.

"And you didn't bother to tell us?!" Sam asked.

"I thought it was nothing, but I suppose now it could be important." Dean said.

"What did she specifically do to you?" Sam asked.

"I don't really know, to be honest.. It was like she was.. irresistible, and I couldn't control Mr. General-"

"Please don't tell me you..." Sam began to interrupt.

"God Sam, no, I didn't go down on her. At least, I wasn't going to, not until she started biting my neck." Dean said.

Sam massaged the bridge of his nose. "You could have spared the details, you know." He said in disgust.

"No, like, she was actually trying to feed on me, it was weird." Dean explained.

Both you and Sam looked in confusion at the elder Winchester; you hadn't even heard of this in the books.

"I guess it isn't a wolf." You mumbled audibly.

"Ya think?" Dean retorted.

"But that leaves us with one big question.. What is it then?" Sam asked aloud.

Silence filled the car once again as you all pondered deeply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as you got back into the motel room, you all instantly hit the books, having no idea where to even start. You weren't really too skilled at this type of research, but you used what you knew from the series, hoping it would suffice. The first topic you figured you could start on, was a shapeshifter, but you instantly hit another dead end, since shifters weren't immune to silver. Your only resort now was anything that ate their prey.

"Could it be a rugaru?" You asked, reading into the lore.

"I don't think so," Dean said, "at least not like any I have ever seen. That thing had complete control, you should have seen it."

Sam cleared his throat briefly. "Maybe it had its urges under control?" Sam guessed.

"Maybe, but it seemed completely human to me, except for the feeding part. No wrinkling skin or black eyes… All normal. There was something about her face though, and I can't put my finger on it." Dean said.

"What about it?" You asked.

"It had a familiar aspect to it, like I've seen the features before."

"Like you knew her?" You asked.

"No, like I've seen similar facial features somewhere before, but I can't remember exactly where." Dean said.

"What were the facial features like?" Sam asked.

"She had a long pointed face..." Dean recalled.

"Like a stereotypical witch?" Sam asked with a chuckle.

"No," You responded, typing away on the extra laptop, "like a fox."

"There it is," Dean said with recognition, "how did you guess?"

"I've watched some interesting cartoons in the nineties." You responded with a smirk.

Dean looked at you with confusion and then to his brother, shrugging when they both didn't get the reference. You clicked on the first link that popped up, since it seemed remotely along the lines of the Winchester business.

"A Kumiho?" Dean asked, reading the title of the webpage.

"Yeah, it says here that it roughly translates to 'nine-tailed fox'." You stated.

Dean hummed in response, peering over your shoulder.

"Common lore says it transforms freely; many say that it turns into a woman, to seduce prey."

You all raised your eyebrows at the last statement and instantly looked at one another.

"This makes total sense," Dean said, "(Y/N), you're a genius!"

You blushed. "I mean, not really.." You replied.

"Are you kidding? It would have taken me and Sammy a good hour or so to crack this, and I think it's only been forty minutes. That's incredible!" Dean exclaimed.

"Thanks." You beamed quietly.

"Yeah, good work (Y/N)." Sam agreed, returning the smile.

Suddenly, the police scanner on Sam's computer popped up without warning, almost sending you to the floor. A male voice roughly came through the small speakers, ordering a squad to dispatch to East Morgan Street, near State Road 931. The attacker was unclear, but a young boy was both badly injured and traumatized by something the officer couldn't exactly place reason on.

"Alright, I definitely feel we should check this one out. It's likely what we're after." Sam said, standing up from his small work space.

"What have we got to lose?" Dean said.

The three of you quickly got into your federal attire and headed out to the general address provided. In a short amount of time you arrived to the scene. Multiple cop cars, and fire rescue squads were swarmed about, flooding the dark, desolate street with flashing lights. You adjusted your 'badge' and made your way to the police car in the center of the scene. A middle-aged cop stood on the side with a small group from the squad, who seemed to be discussing what he came across when he found the boy. The rest of the two teams attended to the boy on the back of an ambulance, addressing his wounds and occasionally asking him questions. You and Dean headed over to the officer, while Sam took to the boy. Your anxiety perked slightly, but you acted as nonchalant as possible, to try and not draw attention.

"Excuse me," Dean said, grabbing the group's attention, "I'm Agent Ford, this is my partner, Agent Griffith, would you care to explain the situation?"

"FBI? Why would you guys be interested in this? Isn't it a little early?" The middle-aged officer asked.

"We've been pinging these types of cases for a brief while, and we think it's the work of a specific killer, we picked this up on the radar." You responded confidently.

"Alright, that sounds reasonable." The officer said to you. "Tend to the scene guys, I've got this one." He said to his colleagues.

After his colleagues dispersed, you instantly asked for details on what had occurred not long before he sent out the alert on the scanner.

"It's weird, I was driving down here, patrolling the park for the evening shift, when this young boy ran straight in front of my car. Luckily, I wasn't going the speed limit, or both of us would have been roadkill. He came right out of the brush over there, and it looked like he got attacked by some wild animal or something. I got out of the car, and asked him what was wrong, and he just pointed to where he ran from. There was a woman, just standing inside the entrance of the woods, staring at us. I shone my flashlight, and she took off running. I couldn't leave the boy, so I called for backup." The officer said.

"Did he ever say what gave him those bites?" Dean asked.

"That's the thing, he said it was the woman." He replied with uneasiness.

"Did you have anyone go after her?" You asked.

"Some of the squad scoured the area, but they couldn't find anyone. Like I said, it was weird." He answered.

"What did the woman look like, officer.." Dean trailed off, gesturing to the cop.

"Mavin, sorry." He finished. "She was thin, her hair was infused with a natural red and a few other natural-born colors. Her face came to a point at the chin, and her nose was small but longer in length… Almost like.."

"A fox?" You said.

"Yeah..exactly! How did you know?" Marvin asked.

"Just intuition." You said.

"And you haven't seen her since?" Dean asked.

"No, thankfully. She had a weird vibe to her. But we have definitely on the lookout." He said.

"Thank you for your time, Officer Mavin." You said.

As you finished conversing with the officer, you saw Sam had already walked back from the ambulance, talking with another officer. He broke off the conversation as he saw you two walking up.

"What did you find?" Sam asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Looks like this coincides with the case," Dean replied, "The officer matched the attacker to a 'T'. It was the same thing that attacked me."

"That's promising; you know what the kid just told me? The lady lured him in, probably just like the other victims. Remember how Brayden's sister said that a woman was trailing her brother before he died? I think that's what has been happening with all of the victims." Sam said.

"I think you're right, but do you think we could take this back to the car or something? Cops make me uneasy." You admitted quietly.

The boys looked at you with understanding and agreed to your reasonable request. Without drawing much attention, you all went back to the beloved car to discuss what would happen next. But just before you hopped into the back seat, you could have sworn you saw two eyes glaring at you in the distance.

#spn x reader #spn reader insert #spn fanfiction

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generaldisdainn · 4 years

Text

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA

Pairing: Kristanna

Previous chapter

The wonderful @epbaker drew some GORGEOUS artwork that’s loosely inspired by this fic that you can find here!

The lovely @ahtohallan-calling doodled the title of the fic which you can find here!!

Chapter 10

Kristoff, Anna, Ryder, and Sven were all scrunched together in that order on the sofa, watching Ryder play Breath of the Wild on the TV.

“So let me get this right,” Kristoff said, “it’s called ‘The Legend of Zelda’ but you’re Link, the guy who has to save Zelda?”

“Yup,” Ryder responded, most of his attention devoted to the game.

“And you’ve never been able to play as Zelda?”

“Nope.”

“Wow, sucks for Link,” Kristoff said. “He does all the hard work and Zelda gets the glory.”

“Well, she’s still a major figure in the games.”

“Yeah, but isn’t she not in some? And Link is in every one?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“So it should be ‘The Legend of Link,’ right?”

“Well, no, because Link is supposed to be a player avatar. You can name him other things, too, so it wouldn’t make sense if—”

“Wait, you can name him something else in this game but you decided to name him Link?”

“No, you can’t name him something else in this game, because this is the first game with voice actors in it, so—”

“These games have never had voice actors? ”

“ VETO!! ” Sven shouted and shot up from the couch.

“Aw, c’mon!” Anna complained. “I was having fun listening to them bicker!”

A few weeks ago, the four of them came up with the concept of a “veto”. It gave the person who declared it the power to force the other three to stop what they’re doing and do whatever that person wants.

“We are not spending another weekend like this,” Sven declared. “We are going to remind ourselves what real nature looks like. We’re going hiking, bitches!”

Sven was immediately met with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Ugh, fine,” Kristoff mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” Ryder said.

“Oh my god, that sounds so fun!” Anna squealed. “Are there good hikes around here?”

Sven seemed to begin to answer affirmatively, but the words caught in his throat. He pulled his phone from his pocket and rapidly typed something. A few seconds of silence passed.

“Yeah, of course there are!” Sven said. “Do you think I would use my veto power if I didn’t have a plan? We’re going to...um...” His words trailed off as he began scrolling furiously before suddenly stopping. “...Reinpikk Gorge! It’s got, uh...a big waterfall?”

“I’m sold,” Anna said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, this might actually be fun,” Kristoff conceded. “Let’s be ready to go in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

Kristoff knew he was doing the thing he hates again; pretending to be excited about something for a girl. When he was seeing Samantha, he would always try to find time to go to wine tasting events with her, even though he couldn’t stand the people, the atmosphere, or the wine. She loved those things for reasons Kristoff could never really understand. Hiking was another one of those activities; he tried to feign excitement as much as he could for Anna’s sake.

But if he was being honest with himself, the moment they rolled into the parking lot of the park, he found himself drawn to its natural beauty. He’d done landscaping work on multiple occasions; he had to admit nothing compared to the real thing.

“I mean, just look at that, guys,” Sven said emphatically. “I hope everyone is now realizing just how brilliant of an idea this was, thank you, thank you, tips are not necessary but very much appreciated.”

“Give it a couple hours and a few dozen mosquito bites,” Kristoff said, half-sarcastically.

“You ever heard of bug spray, wise guy?” Sven said.

“I’m just excited to bother you guys about all the different plants,” Ryder chimed in.

Anna was silently giddy, eager to be in nature, happy to be past her problems with Kristoff, and glad to be such close friends with the three of them. As they all climbed out of Sven’s car and prepared for the hike, she could feel her excitement growing. She began to wander away from the car, Sven and Kristoff too caught up in their own argument to notice.

“Uh, Anna?” Ryder called after her. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, is nobody following me?” Anna said, spinning on her heels and noticing Sven and Kristoff still at the car. “Hey, guys! We get it, you’re an old married couple, now come on!”

Kristoff found himself once again getting wrapped up in Anna’s own excitement. He caught up to Anna while Sven did his best to stifle his urge to shout after him. After all, this was his idea, and if Kristoff was only going to be excited because of Anna, then Sven would happily take that.

* * *

“You have no idea where we are, do you?” Kristoff asked Sven.

“Hush, getting lost is half the fun!” Anna said, slapping Kristoff’s arm with the back of her hand.

“So I’ve been seeing a lot of perennial weeds, which means we’re near water,” Ryder said.

“Yeah, obviously we’re near water, Ryder,” Kristoff grumbled. “That’s one of the defining characteristics of a gorge.”

“No, I mean we’re closer to water than we were,” Ryder corrected. “There’s also a higher concentration of evergreens, which is important because--”

“Okay, we get it, Doctor Plant,” Sven teased. “Look, none of y’all had to follow me off the trail, I just wanted to channel my inner Lara Croft.”

Anna imagined Sven in a too-small blue tank top and tiny brown shorts. She was amused as much as she was repulsed by the image. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to be a little adventurous as well; she hadn’t been this immersed in nature since she and Elsa left her parents. She looked to her right and spotted a large boulder, covered in cracks and crags, perfect for climbing.

“Hey, Kristoff, can you come over here? I need a spotter,” Anna said, already walking off in the direction of the giant rock.

“Wait, Anna, we should--” Kristoff turned to see Sven striding confidently away, Ryder close behind studying the flora. He let out a sigh, but if he was being honest with himself, this was an ideal scenario. Just him and Anna, completely alone, separated from everyone by a veil of nature. Completely unafraid to be himself. He quickly caught up to Anna.

“God, I forgot how fun this is,” Anna remarked, searching for a handhold on the rock face. “Did you ever do anything like this?”

“No, not really,” Kristoff answered absentmindedly, his gaze affixed on Anna’s ponytail fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“I used to go rock climbing all the time,” Anna said as she began to scale the rock, making Kristoff nervous. “I used to…” Anna’s words trailed off as she strained to reach a new handhold, trying to plant her feet where her hands had just been. Kristoff moved under her, his hands upturned, prepared to catch her if she slipped.

“You used to…?” Kristoff said.

“Oh yeah, I used to have a dream of...of climbing Mount Everest, but...then I learned people...regularly die on the way--”

Suddenly, her hand slipped. She shrieked as she fell backwards off the rock. She hung in the air for a second that felt like an eternity. Her heart rose and her stomach dropped, her hands grasped fruitlessly at the air, and her breath caught in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the impact with the ground.

The impact wasn’t harsh or abrupt, but rather warm and soft, like she collided with a giant teddy bear. She opened her eyes to see herself in an undignified position on Kristoff’s lap, who had collapsed onto his rear end when she fell into him. She looked up at his face just in time to hear him say “Jesus, Anna, are you okay?”

Typical, Anna thought. The two of them going to Ikea alone, her falling onto him after being separated from the other two—it’s like the universe was begging them to get together. She pressed her hand to her heart and found that it was racing, threatening to burst out of her chest. It was the combination of exertion, shock, and the sudden contact with Kristoff causing her heart rate to skyrocket.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine,” Anna stammered, readjusting herself, but not yet climbing out of Kristoff’s embrace. “I’m glad I asked you to follow me.” She laughed nervously.

“No kidding,” Kristoff said. “How about we just walk from now on?”

“Or you could carry me,” Anna responded, laying one arm around his neck.

Kristoff laughed. “No, no, we’re not doing that,” he said as he stood up, hoisting Anna onto her feet. “Come on, let’s see what’s on the other side of this.”

They started walking parallel to the wall Anna had just tumbled from. They didn’t say anything to each other for a little while, comfortable with just being alone with each other. Then, Kristoff remembered they had never finished their conversation from earlier.

“So, you wanted to climb Mount Everest?”

Anna snorted. “Yeah, but then I started doing research on what it would take to achieve that, and I decided it just wasn’t worth it.” Her eyes wandered, her words and her mind out of sync with each other. “And, y’know, I had other goals, more realistic ones, like starting my own animal shelter, officiating my sister’s wedding, making a perfect crème brûlée, stuff like that. And some of them I’ve already achieved, like making a group of friends on my own, being a better person than my parents are, finding someone I want to spend the rest of…” Her words trailed off. She snapped her head to look at Kristoff. “Am I talking too much? Is any of this TMI? I’m sorry if it is, I just--”

“Anna, you’re totally fine,” Kristoff chuckled. “Honestly it’s inspiring to hear about your goals, considering...well…” Kristoff shrugged, then hunched his shoulders. His eyes pointed at the ground. “...I’ve never really had goals like that.”

“Really?” Anna asked. “You’ve never wanted something so deep in your bones that you would, like, jump into a volcano to get it?”

“No, not really,” Kristoff admitted, almost embarrassed to say, knowing how driven and determined Anna was by contrast. “My parents...well, they settled in a big way. My dad had a promising career as an architect and my mom could have easily sung at the Met if she wanted to, but they both agreed to give up their potential to live much simpler lives.” Kristoff sighed, a sound dripping with regret. “Their decision must have rubbed off on me.”

“Wow, Kristoff,” Anna said, doing her best to sympathize. “I’m really sorry.”

“No need to be,” Kristoff said. “I’m fine.”

Anna knew he wasn’t fine. He looked at his face to see his normally boyish features locked in contemplation, making him appear older than he was.

“Well, you know what, Kristoff?” Anna began with an encouraging tone. “Now’s as good of a time as any. Let’s come up with some goals for you!”

Kristoff smiled a sad smile. “You don’t need to do that for me.”

“You say that like I don’t want to. I do,” she retorted. “Before my mom was a bitch, she was a guidance counselor, and I learned a few things from her.”

Kristoff’s sad smile turned cheerful, despite how he tried to oppress it; the tiny wrinkle on the bridge of his nose betrayed his true feelings. “Alright, why not?”

“Yay!” Anna clapped her hands a few times before gathering herself. “So before we come up with any giant goals, let’s start with small ones. Is there something you’ve wanted to do for a while, but never gotten around to it?”

Kristoff hummed and made a show of scratching his head. “Well...I guess...I’ve always wanted to read the ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy.”

“Okay, that’s a great start! Were you a big reader as a kid?”

“Yeah, but ‘Lord of the Rings’ always felt out of reach to me, and by the time I was old enough I--well, the friends I hung out with were way more into sports, so I just kinda stopped reading.”

“Well, I know it’s cliché at this point, but there’s no time like the present!” Anna’s words were bursting with optimism, their infectious energy broadening Kristoff’s smile.

“Yeah, it’s true. I guess that’s why it’s a cliché, right?” They smiled at each other, their eyes sparkling with each other’s light.

Anna blinked, coming out of her daze. “Okay, so what else?” She vaulted over a rock the size of a large dog while Kristoff walked around it. “Any places you want to see? Any skill you want to learn?”

“Oh my god, I used to want to play the accordion!” Kristoff said, his head craning back like the memory struck him in the forehead.

“Really!?” Anna exclaimed, a wave of giddy excitement rushing through her.

“Yeah, I used to be really into Weird Al when I was a little kid. But I ended up getting a guitar one Christmas instead.”

“Okay, so as your guidance counselor, I would tell you to get an accordion for yourself. As your roommate, well, not so much.”

“What about a guitar?”

“A guitar’s fine, a guitar’s nice and quiet.” Anna smiled broadly. “See? You already have two goals: read ‘Lord of the Rings’ and learn guitar! Who knows, you might start a ‘Lord of the Rings’ band in the future!”

“Yeah,” Kristoff said, something else piquing his interest. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Anna said, suddenly nervous. They stood in silence for a bit before Kristoff turned and walked in the direction of whatever he was hearing.

“Kristoff, wait!” She hurried after him. “We shouldn’t--” she started to say, but then she heard what Kristoff must have been hearing too: a massive volume of water, a sound that could only be coming from a waterfall. She rushed ahead of Kristoff, eager to see what had sold her on the hike in the first place.

First, she saw the enormous granite wall of the gorge that the water had carved out of the earth. There were shrubs and small trees dotting the surface, but for the most part the rock was bare, providing a stark contrast with the scenery of the rest of the hike. Then she saw the top of the waterfall, the river above it roiling and churning as it tumbled over the edge. Finally, once she reached the lip of the gorge, she looked down at the entirety of the waterfall as a joyful smile spread across her face.

The water leapt and danced over the rocks as it tumbled downward. Mist lifted from the torrent, forming a rainbow that arced from the top of the waterfall to the base of the gorge. At the bottom, the water gathered in a swirling mass and continued deeper into the dense forest, unimpeded and unshaken, just as it had been at the top of the waterfall.

Kristoff caught up with her and had a similar, albeit subdued, reaction. His eyes were fixed more on Anna than they were on the natural splendor. He loved seeing her this happy and excited. He loved it more than he cared to admit to himself. If this is what it took for her to be as happy as she was, he would take her hiking every day at a different gorge each time, and then cut new gorges directly into the earth once she had seen them all.

He decided at that moment that he wasn’t going to hide his feelings for her anymore. He wanted to be with her.

“Hey, Anna?” Kristoff asked.

“Look at this, Kristoff!” Anna shouted, her voice full of reverence. “It’s so, so beautiful! I can’t believe it!” She giggled and laid a hand on Kristoff’s arm. “I’m really glad we’re seeing this together. It’s just so...so…” She waved her hand in the air, like it would help her find the right word. “...I don’t know, I just like doing things with you! When we’re by ourselves, you and me, I just feel like I can be excited, and I am excited about this waterfall and this hike, and you, and…” Again, she let her words trail off before elaborating further. “Sorry. Was there something you wanted?”

Kristoff stifled his nerves. He knew he fucked up once with her, but he also knew he’d been forgiven; it was part of the reason why it was so easy to fall back in love with her.

“...Can I, um...can I kiss you?”

Anna’s eyes popped. She wasn’t expecting him to say anything like that any time soon. Her reaction made Kristoff even more nervous.

“I mean, uh…” Kristoff stammered. “I--well, I would like to. I may? I mean, ay mi? Uh...may I? You don’t have to, I just, um…” Kristoff decided to stop talking. Fully expecting a rejection at this point, he began to turn away.

Anna didn’t even expect herself to do what she did next. She turned his face back toward her gently with her hand, stood on her tiptoes, and delicately laid her lips on his. Kristoff returned the kiss, a less graceful one, but a kiss all his own. A vulnerable, tender gesture of love.

Anna lowered herself, smiling gently, her lower lip tucked between her teeth. But when she noticed Kristoff’s unsure expression, her own face twisted in concern.

“Was that okay?” she asked.

Kristoff’s eyes darted to the side. His lips were pursed and twisted to the side. Anna was beginning to fear she did something terribly wrong.

Kristoff inhaled through his mouth, preparing to speak, but then shut it again. He tilted his head, like a puppy trying to figure out where a sound was coming from. Anna was all but mortified at this point. She thought her potential relationship with Kristoff was ending before it began, right before her eyes.

Finally, Kristoff spoke.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

All of Anna’s tension dissipated in an instant.

“Jesus, Kristoff, that was terrifying!” she shouted, slapping him on the arm.

“Oh my--I’m sorry! Really, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be!” Kristoff apologized.

“I thought you hated me! It looked like you were--oh, yes, by the way, I’d love to--but holy shit, don’t ever do that again.”

Kristoff smiled bigger than he had all day, embarrassed by his ambiguous reaction to the kiss, but also elated that she still had feelings for him. “Okay, okay, I promise. But also, yay!” he said.

Now it was Anna’s turn to look puzzled. “So, what changed? You were asking for space not too long ago.”

Kristoff responded without missing a beat. “I can’t afford to deny my feelings for you anymore.”

Anna blushed and gave Kristoff a quick peck on the cheek. “I won’t if you won’t.”

All of a sudden, Ryder and Sven emerged from the trees behind them.

“Are you guys done?” Sven asked.

Kristoff and Anna both turned to face them. “Have you guys been right behind us the whole time?” Anna asked.

“It was Sven’s idea!” Ryder accused.

“Not that bullshit again,” Sven said to Ryder. “Not the whole time,” he continued, turning back to Kristoff and Anna. He walked right up to the edge of the gorge. “Guys, can you make way for your king, please?” That, or a variation of it, is what Sven would say when he wanted a picture taken of him. Kristoff stepped down behind Ryder and Anna followed him.

“I need a pic of me in nature to balance out my Grindr profile,” Sven said to Kristoff. “That was kinda the whole motivation behind this trip for me.”

“Wait, your what?” Anna asked, like she had just heard a grand revelation.

Sven, Ryder, and Kristoff all slowly turned to look at her, each with the same expression on their face. Complete stunned silence.

Without warning, Ryder did something that was uncharacteristic of him as long as Anna had known him. He burst into hysterical laughter.

“Anna thought you were straight this whole time!” Ryder said to Sven between fits.

“Well, no one ever told me!” Anna shouted in an effort to defend herself.

“Wait, you actually never knew?” Kristoff asked.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t pick up on it!”

“Anna, don’t even worry about it,” Sven said, opting to be the voice of reason. “They’re just being stupid. But yeah, I’m like, really gay.”

Anna’s face was beet-red, but she smiled through her embarrassment.

“Actually, you know what?” Sven said with a new inflection. “I’m a package deal. Everyone get up here, we’re taking a group selfie!”

Hearing him say that made Anna’s heart lift. She knew she was an integral member of their crew now, but every time someone reiterated that fact, it made her so happy she could burst. She wrapped her arm around Kristoff and led him up to the edge, Ryder following shortly after. Sven pulled out his phone, opened the camera app, and held it at arm’s length, trying to fit everyone on the frame.

“Kristoff, crouch down, Anna, be taller, Ryder, you’re perfect. One, two, three, say bees!”

Kristoff and Anna didn’t have to say anything to smile. They couldn’t stop smiling.

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #frozen fanfiction #Kristoff

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husheduphistory · 4 years

Text

Dedicated to Death: The End Experiment of Thomas Bradford

When the Fox sisters of Hydesville, New York claimed they contacted the spirit of a murdered peddler in 1848 the ears of the entire country listened. Suddenly there was hope that those who passed away were not truly gone and people from all over began to scramble to find ways to communicate with the dead. Later, with the horrors of the Civil War tearing the country and families apart people looked to Spiritualism and any way possible to find answers from beyond. Hundreds of thousands never came home, countless numbers were never found and the need for closure and communication drove people into the parlors and palms of people claiming they could be their much-needed bridge to the other side. As many people that believed in life after death, there were just as many who refuted it and the divide grew. As time moved on the division deepened with both sides seeking the ultimate proof that death was, or was not, the end. It is an argument that is still actively debated to this day.

Prof. Thomas Lynn Bradford was a man of many ventures. A one-time electrical engineer, athlete, and actor, by 1920 he had begun studying and lecturing about the occult with a particular focus on the afterlife. The world had now suffered through World War I and people’s spirituality was again feeling highly tested. Bradford was a man of sound mind, but his headspace became more and more filled with his thoughts on life after death and how to prove it. He wrote “…all phenomena are outside the domain of the supernatural." He wanted to prove his theories using scientific fact, but he knew he could not do it alone.

Professor Thomas Lynn Bradford.

In the early part of 1921 Bradford placed an ad in a local Detroit newspaper under the name “Professor Flynn” and stated that he was seeking “someone interested in spiritualistic science.” It was a strange ad, which was exactly why it caught the attention of prominent Detroit native Ruth Starkweather Doran. Doran was not a firm believer in Spiritualism. But, she was an avid researcher and was intrigued with the opportunity to learn about a field so unfamiliar to her. On a whim, she responded to the ad and before long she and Bradford began meeting face to face.

The experiment Bradford presented to Doran would have sent most people running, but for reasons unknown, she stuck with the plan. Before their last meeting on February 5th 1921 Bradford finished typing his latest manuscript and laid it neatly next to his typewriter. There was much to do and once Doran arrived the details were ironed out about how he would contact her when his half of the experiment was complete and how they would then reunite. The deal was made. They bid each other farewell and Bradford shut the door of his rented room. He knew he would not be disturbed, he already informed his landlord, a Mr. Marcotte, that if anyone were to call for him to tell them he was out and would not be back until very late. He turned on his heater. blew out the pilot light, turned up the gas, and laid down in bed until the fumes took his life.

The fact that Bradford killed himself in pursuit of answers about life after death may not have come as a shock to some of his friends. It was later reported that the occult interested him more than anything in the physical world. At one point he told Mr. Marcotte, “When I die my body goes to science. It is to be sent to the Michigan Medical Institute. Anyhow, my body does not amount to much.”

When Bradford’s body was discovered by Marcotte the next day the gas was still pouring from his heater. Upon investigation police found his typewriter, with one final note never removed, “And it is through scientific facts that I propose to demonstrate clearly the phenomena of spirits and prove that all the phenomena is outside the domain of super-natural.” Baffled by the suicide, the Detroit Police Department began to look for an explanation, and the dots quickly led to Doran who escaped any legal action by claiming they had met and discussed proving the afterlife but that she did not know he was planning to kill himself that night. Now, with his lifeless body laying in his home the first part of Bradford’s plan was complete. The second part relied on reconnecting with Doran to prove there was life after death. The self-proclaimed skeptic agreed to go through with it. “I am his friend.” Doran said, “If he can cause his spirit to come back to earth I believe his spirit will come to me first.”

Newspaper headline about Bradford’s suicide.

In the days following Bradford’s suicide the eyes of the Spiritualism world were firmly fixed on Doran’s parlor where she was hosting multiple vigils waiting for her friend to reach out and make contact. Throughout the entire process though, Doran made it a point that she was not a psychic, saying that she was simply a human being there to serve as a middleman and prove Bradford’s theories. She and the intrigued masses patiently waited night after night for a connection, but the hours moved on quietly with Doran only stating at one point that she felt a “strange sensation”.

Doran and the spiritualists were not the only one wanting to hear from Bradford. Multiple newspapers waited eagerly for word, running headlines updating the masses with the New York Times reporting, “Dead Spiritualist Silent” two days after the suicide. It was a few days into a planned two week long vigil that there was finally something to report, but it was not from Doran. A woman named Lulu Mack came forward stating that during a visit with a medium she heard a voice calling the name “Thomas Bradford”, a name she claimed was totally unfamiliar to her at the time. She told reporters that Bradford could not communicate very well because his suicide made him weak, suspending him before he could fully pass on to the next realm. “Life has fled from the body of Thomas Lynn Bradford but his spirit is hovering near and calling to us to hear its message,” Mack reported. “I have heard the call of his spirit. It is calling to me even now. But I cannot hear the message it would send, because the spirit is too weak.”

Headline from The New York Times, February 18, 1921.

Headline from The Pittsburgh Press, February 10, 1921.

Suddenly, a week after Bradford took his own life, Doran claimed she had a feeling she was going to hear from him, but it would be difficult considering how weak he was. Papers, thirsty for the next part of their bizarre story, urged spiritualists to concentrate on Bradford and “assist” him in reaching out. To make sure it was a focused effort it was agreed that 9pm was the time to take action and focus to help Bradford and Doran reconnect.

Much to the delight of some and criticism of others, at 9pm that night Doran sat in her darkened parlor with three witnesses. Suddenly, she put her hands to her temples, commanded the lights be turned off, and told someone to start writing. According to her, Bradford had finally arrived. “I hear his voice” she said to the room, “It is faint, but it grows more distinct. It is the professor.”

As Doran spoke in broken fragments the alleged message from Bradford was slowly pieced together:

“I am the professor who speaks to you from the Beyond. I have broken through the veil. The help of the living has greatly assisted me. I simply went to sleep. I woke up and at first did not realize that I had passed on. I find no great change apparent. I expected things to be much different. They are not. Human forms are retained in outline but not in the physical. I have not traveled far. I am still much in the darkness. I see many people. They appear natural. There is a lightness of responsibility here unlike in life. One feels full of rapture and happiness. Persons of like natures associate. I am associated with other investigators. I do not repent my act. My present plane is but the first series. I am still investigating the future planes regarding which we in this plane are as ignorant as are earthly beings of the life just beyond human life.”

At 10pm the lights were brought back on and a flustered Doran looked over the bits and pieces that she claimed were given to her directly from the spirit of Bradford. Then, she suddenly fainted. Once resuscitated one of the witnesses asked her if she was positive about her message, was she absolutely sure she was speaking with Bradford from beyond the grave? She was adamant, “I am convinced. I never heard a spirit voice before. That was the professor, without doubt."

Illustration from The Ogden Standard-Examiner, February 21, 1921.

For all of the speculation and attention leading up to Doran waiting to hear from Bradford, the aftermath was remarkably tame. Despite the accounts from both Doran and Mack, members of both the Spiritualism community and the general public were not convinced that the alleged message from Bradford was proof of anything. The headlines faded into obscurity and Doran went along with them. Later in the year Doran wrote an article claiming that she maintained regular communication with her departed friend ever since. She was now a believer, still receiving messages from Bradford detailing how one day both realms would meet.

“Through spiritualism the world will be reclaimed: sin will be vanquished, suffering will end” she claimed he told her. “The physical in man will cease to be, and physical death, and that is the only death, will be no more. Men will live on earth forever, even as they live forever in the spirit world.”

At the time of his death Bradford was near penniless. His estranged wife living in Wisconsin only learned of his death later and his body was claimed by a brother, James Bradford, who handed it over to an undertaker for interment.

The body of Professor Thomas Lynn Bradford, the man who gave up his life to prove life after death, is buried in the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Detroit, Michigan.

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Liverpool History: The Lost Twin of Babylon

Liverpool History – You will learn more & have the best experience if you can find time to watch all the videos in the article along the way.

Be #Enchanted

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD1srYqtIV4%5B/embedyt%5D

New York 9/11 Code And The Lost Twin of Babylon – The Second City of The Empire – All Roads Lead To Liverpool

INTRO

As with a lot of my work, I seem to do things in present day not knowing the full meaning or relevance of what I am doing until one day in the future when I need the work or thing I have already done. Suddenly the bigger picture becomes clear and I can call on something I did in the past to help me. This is one of the biggest examples to date.

One of the first hunches I ever had after starting Enchanted LifePath was one about the City of Liverpool, the place I was born. My home seemed to have all the warning signs I had learned during research of how the world has been ran by Freemasons and secret societies with satanic beliefs. I learned that attacks are planned and even how history seems to repeat itself.

This lead me to embark on an 18 month investigation into topics surrounding the Hillsborough disaster. I was digging deep always searching for answers only finding more questions. I was revealing things about the city of Liverpool that had never been linked before. I was coming to conclusions that had never been documented.

After I had a strong feeling about my work I had to find a way to present it to the long-suffering people of Liverpool using my website and YouTube channel. I had to show not just my city and the families of victims what I had found. I had to show the world. This was not going to be easy.

For now, I need to show you what I am saying by directing you to this video. The rest will then follow more naturally to you.

Please be warned it does contain some distressful crowd scenes from one of the darkest days in Liverpool’s history. This video helps teach you the codes that are hidden in plain sight. It will help you understand the rest of the article in a more educated way.

Having studied constants in a sea of variables I began to see a pattern emerging. I was seeing the same signatures that are hidden to many. But to a lot of people like myself, this was all clear as day. I had no doubt at all by now that Freemasons had something to do with the Hillsborough disaster. The more I see the more I know it was planned by design. This was no accident and the usual law changes came shortly after with all seated stadiums being introduced.

This paved the way for an easier policing of crowds in what was very soon to become the most televised sport in the world with the foundation of the Premier League. This meant huge sums of money could be made through subscription based sports channels that were easily sold to the newly formed stay at home football fan. But how do I help everybody realise what I was seeing? I just did my best. I could now see a motive and a money trail, but these money trails at this level lead back to a group of people who have no compassion for human life.

I am referring to the elites of the world who carry out ancient mystery teachings via rituals and worship a set of deities that depict the devil. The power and control over the world is backed up by human sacrifices or maybe hoaxes that are also a form of spirit cooking. There is nothing new under the sun as they say and what you are about to see on this page will prove to you that the story we are presented with regarding Hillsborough is only the tip of the iceberg. Speaking of which, we will be paying some attention to icebergs later on when we look at how many people from Liverpool were killed on the Titanic that also fell on April 15th just 77 years prior to the Hillsborough tragedy.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPKIYuetm-k%5B/embedyt%5D

Two weeks after I published my findings via the video on YouTube the first mainstream news reports of Freemason involvement in the Hillsborough tragedy were published. I knew I was right but it was tough to explain such sensitive issues in this way to people who did not understand the type of synchronicity and research methods used to complete my work.

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This was followed by more investigations leading to more rabbit holes than I could imagine. After looking back over it all something hit me, the link, the gel bonding it all together, what did it all point to?

I now knew. It was right in front of me all along as I wrote every word or studied every article, made every video or when talking to other people and viewers posting comments which I would read and learn more from.

Having gathered all of the information I needed over the years I now have enough evidence to piece together here for you now to help you understand what I have been saying all along. This will be the most unique pieces of investigative film making and journalism work ever seen in Liverpool.

I will explain how the rise and fall of Liverpool was planned. How each and every attack we have come under as a city is the price we have paid for success going back centuries. This will highlight how our proud little city in the northwest of England ruled the waves for the British Empire with slavery and sacrifice being our main trade. We stood shoulder to shoulder with the biggest places on earth for over two hundred years.

If we examine the History of Liverpool over the past 200 years, we see a pattern. We brought the horrors of the slave trade to the world bringing the city vast riches and stature. It was then from Liverpool that the slave trade was abolished. Did this anger the Powers That Be? After that, Liverpool was outright invaded by the Britsih army as well as having our economy halted in August, 1911 (911). This was during the 1911 Liverpool general transport strike, also known as the great transport workers’ strike.

Although it was called the transport strike, other tradesmen from the city took to the picket lines in support. This was pivitol in the establishment of trade unions. Strike action began on the 14th of June which is the same date as the Grenfell Tower fire and Donald Trumps birthday. On August 13, 1911, police smashed into 85-100.000 people with batons injuring 350 with 3.500 troops positioned in the city. This was known as Bloody Sunday, it is the third one I am aware of in the UK and Ireland. The cruiser HMS Antrim was also in the Mersey with orders coming from then Home Secretary, Winston Churchill and the War Office.

Two days later, soldiers of the 18th Hussars opened fire on a crowd on Vauxhall Road, injuring fifteen, two fatally: John Sutcliffe, a 19-year-old Catholic carter, was shot twice in the head, and Michael Prendergast, a 30-year-old Catholic docker, was shot twice in the chest. An inquest into their deaths later brought in a verdict of ‘justifiable homicide’.

A general strike of all transport workers in Liverpool was arranged for the night of August 14, and the next day saw the city come to a complete halt. Any movement of goods was closely guarded by troops, most of whom were drafted in from outside of Liverpool as the territorials of the city had largely been confined to barracks, the authorities wary of their loyalty.

Eight months later on April, 15th, 1912, the same date as Hillsborough, Liverpool lost key figures in the Titanic disaster. Next we had the wars with WW2 most notable on Merseyside for May Day Blitz. It seems as though Churchill got his wish to see Liverpool turned to rubble after all. This devastated our docks and the city had its economy blown to bits. Next, we had the formation of the European Commission in 1958 which meant Liverpool’s US trade facing docks were now playing second fiddle to those on the east coast of the UK that faced Europe. Liverpool was on its legs. The decline had taken full effect by the 1980s as unemployment, homelessness and drug abuse soared.

But this again was managed as we are about to learn with Margaret Thatcher’s managed decline of Liverpool.

After the Toxteth riots in 1981, Marget Thatcher’s Tory’s engaged with the Prime Minister and urged her to “Let Liverpool Rot”

This was followed by an attack on Liverpool that ripped the prosperity out of the city, though it never ripped the heart out of us, that is impossible.

Liverpool was branded a city full of “Bin Dippers” but where did that tag come from? It was this government-sponsored televised propaganda disguised as a World In Action documentary that was aired between 1982 and 1985.

During the programming, the country was shown parts of the Wirral that had fallen foul to unemployment after the closure of the world-renowned Camel Laird shipyard. The yard built its first vessel, an iron barge, in 1828. Some of Britain’s most famous ships have rolled down the slipway, including the first Ark Royal aircraft carrier, two of the four Polaris nuclear missile submarines – Revenge and Renown – and the Conqueror, the nuclear-powered submarine that sank the Belgrano during the Falklands war.

Locals, ravaged by poverty during the managed decline took to the waste tips to salvage whatever they could to get by. Items were taken from the tip and then used at home or sold for a small profit which went towards surviving, not in the same midset as living costs, this was survival horror. This is why Liverpool people are called Bin Dippers because of state broadcasters using public perception manipulation techniques against our city. The rest of the country would not realise that the Wirral is not Liverpool, totally missing the point because of close proximity and accent. Truth be told, it is like Manchester people being called something over a program that was filmed in Stockport.

The 1985 Heysel stadium disaster was next. This was another huge event in Belgium that has been followed by many other since then that have been proven to be false flags or outright loaded with crisis actors as covered on this website many times before.

But in Belgium, in the city of Brussels on one summer night in May 1985, another tragedy involving the city of Liverpool took place. This was when the city of Liverpool, most notably Liverpool Football Club supporters were branded murderers by the rest of the nation. Another tag from the 1980s that is still used today. But was this another set-up?

May 29, was the date, May 29 leaves us with 216 days left in the year. You will see the significance of the number 216 very shortly when we look into a Michael Jackson gig at Aintree racecourse in 1988. But for now, we are looking at the official story at Heysel.

Here is that official story.

The stadium was crammed with 58,000–60,000 supporters, with more than 25,000 for each team. The two ends behind the goals comprised all-standing terraces, each end split into three zones. The Juventus end was O, N, and M and the Liverpool end was X, Y, and Z as deemed by the Belgian court after the disaster. However, the tickets for the Z section were reserved for neutral Belgian fans in addition to the rest of the stadium. This meant the Juventus fans had more sections than the Liverpool fans with the Z section occupied by neutrals which is thought to have heightened prematch tensions. The idea of the large neutral area was opposed by both Liverpool and Juventus, as it would provide an opportunity for fans of both clubs to obtain tickets from agencies or from ticket touts outside the ground and thus create a dangerous mix of fans.

At approximately 7 p.m. local time, an hour before kick-off, the trouble started. The Liverpool and Juventus supporters in sections X and Z stood merely yards apart. The boundary between the two was marked by temporary chain link fencing and a central thinly policed no-man’s land.

Hooligans began to throw stones across the divide, which they were able to pick up from the crumbling terraces beneath them.

As kick-off approached, the throwing became more intense. Several groups of Liverpool hooligans broke through the boundary between section X and Z, overpowered the police, and charged at the Juventus fans. The fans began to flee toward the perimeter wall of section Z. The wall could not withstand the force of the fleeing Juventus supporters and a lower portion collapsed.

Contrary to reports at the time, and what is still assumed by many, the collapse of the wall did not cause the 39 deaths. Instead, the collapse relieved the pressure and allowed fans to escape. Most died of suffocation after tripping or being crushed against the wall before the collapse. A further 600 fans were also injured. Bodies were carried out from the stadium on sections of iron fencing and laid outside, covered with giant football flags.

In retaliation for the events in section Z, many Juventus fans rioted at their end of the stadium. They advanced down the stadium running track to help other Juventus supporters, but police intervention stopped the advance. A large group of Juventus fans fought the police with rocks, bottles, and stones for two hours. One Juventus fan was also seen firing a starting gun at Belgian police.

Despite the scale of the disaster, UEFA officials, Belgian Prime Minister Wilfried Martens, Brussels Mayor Hervé Brouhon, and the city’s police force felt that abandoning the match would have risked inciting further trouble and violence, and the match eventually kicked off after the captains of both sides spoke to the crowd and appealed for calm.

The blame for the incident was laid on the fans of Liverpool FC. On 30 May official UEFA observer Gunter Schneider said, “Only the English fans were responsible. Of that there is no doubt.”

UEFA, the organiser of the event, the owners of Heysel Stadium and the Belgian police were investigated for culpability. After an 18-month investigation, the dossier of top Belgian judge Marina Coppieters was finally published. It concluded that blame should rest solely with the English fans.

A total of 34 people were arrested and questioned with 26 Liverpool fans being charged with manslaughter – the only extraditable offence applicable to events at Heysel. An extradition hearing in London in February–March 1987 ruled all 26 were to be extradited to stand trial in Belgium for the death of Juventus fan Mario Ronchi. In September 1987 they were extradited and formally charged with manslaughter applying to all 39 deaths and further charges of assault. Initially, all were held at a Belgian prison but over the subsequent month’s judges permitted their release as the start of the trial became ever more delayed.

The trial eventually got underway in October 1988, with three Belgians also standing trial for their role in the disaster: Albert Roosens, the head of the Belgian Football Association, for allowing tickets for the Liverpool section of the stadium to be sold to Juventus fans; and two police chiefs — Michel Kensier and Johann Mahieu — who were in charge of policing at the stadium that night. Two of the 26 Liverpool fans were in custody in Britain at the time and stood trial later. In April 1989, (same month as the Hillsborough disaster) 14 fans were convicted and given three-year sentences, that were half suspended for five years, allowing them to return to the UK.

Gerry Clarkson, Deputy Chief of the London Fire Brigade, was sent by the British Government to report on the condition of the stadium. He concluded that the deaths were “…Attributable very, very largely to the appalling state of [the] stadium.”

He discovered that the crush barriers were unable to contain the weight of the crowd and had the reinforcement in the concrete exposed, the wall’s piers had been built the wrong way around and that there was a small building at the top of the terrace that contained long plastic tubing underneath. His report was never used in any inquiry for the disaster.

Despite its status as Belgium’s national stadium, Heysel was in a poor state of repair by the time of the 1985 European Final. The 55-year-old stadium had not been sufficiently maintained for several years, and large parts of the stadium were literally crumbling. For example, the outer wall had been made of cinder block, and fans who did not have tickets were seen kicking holes in it to get in. Liverpool players and fans later said that they were shocked at Heysel’s abject condition, despite reports from Arsenal fans that the ground was a “dump” when Arsenal had played there a few years earlier. They were also surprised that Heysel was chosen despite its poor condition, especially since Barcelona‘s Camp Nou and Santiago Bernabéu in Madrid were both available. Juventus president Giampiero Boniperti and Liverpool CEO Peter Robinson urged UEFA to choose another venue, claiming that Heysel was not in any condition to host a European Final, especially a European Final involving two of the largest and most powerful clubs in Europe. However, UEFA refused to consider a move. It was later discovered that UEFA’s inspection of the stadium lasted just thirty minutes.

When we take a step back from emotions and look at what happened that night in 1985, is it not a good question to ask if all of this seemed to be put in place by the powers that be who set a trap for Liverpool Football Club and its supporters who were not only from Liverpool due to the clubs outstanding success over the years?

The venue, just like Hillsborough, was deemed unsafe for use after various warning signs were ignored leading up to the events. A perfect storm was created by the Global elites who govern all industries, including sport. This led to new laws being created as usual with these situations. And when we ask ourselves who benefits, a bigger picture becomes a possibility.

Our great city fell further into decline for the remainder of the 1980s, but it was built by monsters just like other great cities of the Empires that have fallen for thousands of years. I can prove to you Liverpool is a lost Babylon, we are Rome, we are Egypt, the second city of the Empire.

Now it is time for one of the biggest questions about our city.

What is the 9/11 code and how is Liverpool tied in?

I SEE YOU

Liverpool Foundation – 1190

Liver Buildings – Opened: 1911 During the transport strike

Travel time from Liverpool to New York, World trade Centre – 9 hours 11 mins

Liverpool, New York (USA) Daylight hours in December 9 hours 11 mins

Liverpool May Day Blitz (Beltane Fire Festival) 119 other explosives such as incendiaries were used.

Distance from Liverpool to WTC New York is 3306 miles.

Liverpool was also home to world’s first oversea’s American consulate.

THE 9/11 CODE

Liverpool and New York have many ties but I bet you did not expect them to be linked to the Babylonian Empire did you?

If I asked 100 people to think of a number that reminds them of New York most would say 9/11. This would be a pretty common answer post the September 11, 2001, World Trade Centre attacks which shook us into the new age of ‘fake terror’ we still live in today.

The 9/11 code was present in the blue prints of New York’s twin city, Liverpool, England, hundreds of years before New York was even founded.

The City of Liverpool (The New York, of Europe, Second City of The Empire) was founded in 1190, which is 811 years before 9/11.

Once again we have another highly cryptic number with the 88 code embedded when we look at 8×11 = 88.

Truth Bomb, the 9/11 attacks were coded into the foundation of Liverpool 811 years before the World Trade Centre Twin Towers and building 7 were brought down, do you still think this was an accident?

I showed you in this video from 2013/14 season, remember this one about Liverpool Football Club, the phrase Rise Up and the Liver Buildings depicted with Daniel Sturridge number 15, Steven Gerrard number 8 and Luis Suarez number 7 totalling 33? Take a look.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/9-11-Attacks-Coded-Into-Liverpool-1190-Foundation-811-88-Years-Before-9-11-New-York-Of-Europe.mp4

Wikipedia tells us: The history of Liverpool can be traced back to 1190 when the place was known as ‘Liuerpul’, (LuprEvil) possibly meaning a pool or creek with muddy water, settled by Romans, Liverpool had early ties to the Babylonian beliefs which had re-manifested through the Roman Empire. The city became known as “the second city of the Empire“, and was also called “the New York of Europe” amidst the slave trade. During the Second World War, the city was the centre for planning the crucial Battle of the Atlantic, and suffered a blitz second only to London’s.

1190 was an interesting year as most key events listed on Wikipedia are about the Massacre of Jews! This is huge. Over the Ides of March on the 16th, in 1190, 150 Jews were ambushed by a mob who killed those who did not commit suicide. All Jews killed in Norwich on the 6th. Stamford fair massacre is also mentioned.

We have just seen some 9/11‘s and 88‘s but what if I had more to show you concerning the city of Liverpool and another huge event where reports of a crush were ignored by police just months before Hillsborough? What would you think if it took place on September 11, 1988?

The venues was Aintree Racecourse and the event was the last leg of the Michael Jackson World Bad Tour. The event was watched by 125.000 spectators in the famous venue which had just a 50.000 capacity. Merseyside police played down reports of a crush at the gig but medical reports and world press all stated there was at least 3500 people treated for injuries after being crushed.

This incident took place 216 days before Hillsborough. I told you earlier I would explain the 216 number. 216 is 6x6x6. It is known as the 216 constant. You can read all about the gig and how police played reports from the public down on my article below.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2019/04/21/michael-jackson-bad-gig-crush-aintree-88/

April 15 – Hillsborough disaster ritual – The Fordicia, also called Hordicidia, was a Roman festival for the goddess Tellus held on April 15. During the ceremony, a pregnant cow was sacrificed, the calf fetus burned and the ashes saved for the Parilia festival.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/THE-RAVEN-Notre-Dame-Fire-I-Pet-Goat-2-DECODED-Fordicia-April-15-MUST-SEE.mp4

April 15 The Ongoing Fordica Ritual?

FACT: The Ides of April Notre Dame Fire falls one month after the Ides of March Christchurch Mosque shootings when Brenton Tarrant played the song Hellfire after his alleged rampage.

Beware The Ides Of April – The 15th day of the 4th month brings historical incidents in a cryptic pattern that can not be ignored.

1452 Fordicia – Birth Of Leonardo Da Vinci – Born on Fordicia and died during The Beltane Fire Festival some 500 years ago on May 2nd 1519. Da Vinci was featured in the World In 2019 front cover and article as reported on by Enchanted LifePath in December 2018. Leonardo Da Vinci Full Reduction = 88.

1865 Fordicia – Abraham Lincoln Assassination – 1865 is 911 (1+8=9) (6+5=11). Abraham Lincoln Reverse Full Reduction = 93, Notre Dame Spire height 93 meters. Number 93 meaning, Sun worship, sun allegedly 93 million miles away. Thelema Alistair Crowley 93. Lincoln death came 413 years after the birth of Da Vinci. 4×13 = 52 which reduces down to 7. Building 7 WTC.

1912 Fordicia – Titanic Disaster – 47 years after Lincoln, WTC Building 7 had 47 floors 911.

1955 Fordicia – Birth of Dodi Fayed 43 Years after Titanic – (4+3=7) Dodi Fayed Died August 31, 2007, next Princess Diana (Goddess of the hunt) in Paris.

1989 Fordicia – Hillsborough Disaster – 34 (7) years after birth of Dodi 96 Liverpool Football Club fans died after being crushed in a mass Fordicia sacrifice at Hillsborough stadium, Owlerton, Sheffield.

2013 Fordicia – Fake Boston Bombings – 3 reported deaths 24 years after Hillsborough (24/42 mirrored a rainbow can only be seen at 42 degrees) 2+4=6 but 6 is not a master number so it can be reduced to 33 which is a master number so we stick.

2014 Fordicia – Boko Horam Kidnapped 276 School Girls – 2+7+6=15. Dates of Fordicia. The child grab is alleged to have happened 365 Days after Boston Bombings – 365 is 3×11=33 3x(5+6).

2019 Fordicia – Notre Dame Cathedral Fire – Thought to be as symbolic as 9/11 the fire took place on April 15 Day 105 which is the 15:06 time the match was abandoned at Hillsborough (15/1+5=6).

What is the link?

FORDICIA

What is Fordicia?

The Roman Pagan Festival in honor of Tellus, the Roman earth goddess Diana the Huntress, The Mother of All Gods, and here she is all over the Notre Dame Fire and all the other historical, tragic or staged events listed above.

The deity that all these events are connected to.

I have often pointed out how I felt more people from Liverpool died on the Titanic on April 15, 1912, than at the Hillsborough disaster on April 15, 1989. I was able to confirm my hunch quite easily. Let’s not forget the New York connection either as that is where this ship was heading. The Titanic was full of scousers, we made up a huge number of the crew members, we helped design and build the ship. The band playing as the ship went down, who featured in the movie were from Liverpool. The ships main corridor was so long it was nicknamed Scotty Road by locals on board the vessel. This corridor was to play a huge part in the sinking of the Titanic. Another disaster with Liverpool all over it.

The man who shouted “ice berg dead ahead” in the movie Titanic starring Leonardo Di-Caprio and Kate Winslet was a scouser. I often wonder if Jack was portaying a scouser seeing as Liverpool had a major input into all aspects of the stricken vessel.

Scotland Road was a long corridor that ran the entire length of the ship along the port side of E Deck. It was used by crew members and steerage passengers to quickly move between the ends of the ship. There was also an entrance from shore here, single men boarded the ship at this entrance and ended up on Scotland Road. Several Third Class areas could be reached from Scotland Road like the open space and the dining room. The boiler rooms also had an exit on Scotland Road.

The name “Scotland Road” was given affectionately by members of the ship’s crew, many of whom hailed from Liverpool. Scotland Road remains a major thoroughfare in the northern part of the city. Crew members from the surrounding area noted the similarity with the corridor on Titanic, which played a similar role as a primary route, hence the name.

The flooding of Scotland Road

When the ship was sinking, Scotland Road allowed the water to quickly flood all compartments accessible through the road. Because the water could only move this freely at port side, Titanic started to list to port as soon as E Deck flooded at 1:00 A.M. and the developing starboard list was countered.

You can see the work of devious Freemasons all over this one even down to the lies that were published in news articles the next day claiming all passengers had been saved from the ship. How they could print this after such an event is beyond me but it happened. Look at these publications then I will move on to who was on board the alleged Titanic.

We all know the Titanic never even set sail, and it was the identical sister ship, The Olympic who was part of the White Star insurance claim ploy, manipulated by the cabal.

The insurance job reminds me of the recent vanishing of MH370 in one regard, that being, on the stricken plane, were reported to be 4 out of 5 patent holders for RFID technology with the one patent holder not on the plane that day being a Rothschild. Leaving himself sole patent holder. Now how is this similar to the sinking of the Titanic? Look at these three men.

There is no real evidence that the Titanic hit an iceberg. What’s especially interesting is the list of people who, at the last minute, did not board, and the other list of people who stayed onboard. The list of people who did not board includes a great many billionaires, and the other list, of those who did board, also contains a list of billionaires. The survivors, those who did not board, are now among the list of families who run the world. Meanwhile, since eleven Canadian billionaire did board, Canada ceased to be much of a competition to the USA after the outcome of the Titanic. The same was true of a great number of other important and mega rich people who died on the Titanic – their fortunes and power were permanently wiped out. To sum up – the list of people who did not get on board the Titanic reads like a who’s who of ‘most powerful people of the 20th century and beyond.’

Was the Titanic switched with the Olympic? Survivors of Titanic reported hundreds of explosions. The Titanic only had two boilers, two out of the four smoke stacks were allgedly fake. Many water tight compartments were not water tight. JP Morgan got off boat in England unexpectedly. All is very much like the World Trade Center-built cheaply, explosions heard, hundreds of people had pre knowledge of 9/11, especially Mormons, Freemasons, and Elite connect family members like Bush’s, Guillani’s, and more.

I said I feel more Liverpudlians died on the Titanic/Olympic than they did at Hillsborough so let’s look into why I say that.

The diagram below is from an archive of Liverpoool born crew and passengers on board the Titanic on the night of the Disaster. The picture links through to the original source. It shows 72 people. I know this is less than the 96 who lost their lives at hIllsborough but the key word here is Liverpool born and I must point out the fact that this list may not contain a high number of stowaways on baord the ship when it sank. I feel the actual figure will be higher again. People being trafficked must also be brought into account too. Prostitutes on board the Titanic possibly all unaccounted for. Jack in the movie may well have been portraying a scouser, he was a stowaway, they were not all listed.

Less than 50 people from the city of Liverpool died at Hillsborough. This can be confirmed by looking at all the names and where they were from on the list of victims. I excluded people from the Wirral in that count as it is not Liverpool and I am stating more people from Liverpool died on the Titanic than they did at Hillsborough.

There are various occult (hidden) days of significance throughout the calendar year which have special importance. From March 22nd to May 1st is known as the ‘season of sacrifice,’ which as a period of time when many false flag events have occurred.

LIVERPOOL – LIVERPOOL, NEW YORK & LIVERPOOL – EVIL TWIN

Liverpool, UK, has been linked to New York in this article. But did you know New York had a town called Liverpool, New York? The town was settled by Jesuits and the map is shaped like the baphomet. Here is a video I uploaded in 2016 after an area of Liverpool, New York, called Syracuse was trending on Twitter. Syracuse, New York, nicknamed The ‘Cuse, Salt City, Emerald City, The Heart of New York, also shares its name with Syracuse, Sicily, which was founded in ancient Greek times.

Before we watch the video, I just realised something else! Emerald City is known to be the heavens in the bible and its walls are said to be made of jewels such as Emerald. The Heavens green in scripture with Gods throne being in Emerald city. It is known as the Throne Of God. The Emerald is hexagonal in shape. This takes us straight back to the HEX, Saturn worship, the Baphomet and the 6 pointed star of Satan.

The book of Revelation revolves around 7’s, and all jewels do, as well. Everyone of them falls into one of 7 categories.

The diamond is cubic.

The emerald is hexagonal.

The ruby is trigonal.

And so on for 7 different types. 7 is God’s perfect number, and He created all jewels to fall into 7 categories, which reveals His love for order, which is part of the beauty of His creation. Beauty and order will characterize the eternal environment of the New Jerusalem.

When God created the Devil he also created jewelry and made him a garment of jewels. Let me show you.

Satan is the first being that we have any record of who was clothed with precious stones. In Ezek. 28, he is described as the model of perfection in beauty. Then in 28:13 we read, “You were in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone adorned you: ruby, topaz and emerald, chrysolite, onyx and jasper, sapphire, turquoise and beryl. Your settings and mountings were made of gold; on the day you were created they were prepared.“

Revelation 21:19

And the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones. The first foundation was jasper; the second, sapphire; the third, a chalcedony; the fourth, an emerald;

http://enchantedlifepath.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/BAAL-DENVER-DOLL-HEAD-MYSTERY-Syracuse-Evil-Twins-Liverpool-New-York-WARNING-HUGE-DISCOVERY.mp4

Liverpool is a lakeside village in Onondaga County, New York, United States. The population was 2,347 at the 2010 census.[1] The name was adopted from the city of Liverpool in the United Kingdom.[2] The village is located on Onondaga Lake, in the western part of the town of Salina and is northwest of Syracuse, of which it is a suburb.

The area was originally inhabited by the Iroquois, starting in the 16th century. In the mid-17th century, Canadian French Jesuits (Black Popes) visited the area, setting up missions. These were not very permanent, however. An example of these missions is Sainte Marie among the Iroquois, on Onondaga Lake just outside the village. Once the (Erie Canal) and (Oswego Canal) were built, the area was settled by Irish canal workers, Yankee settlers, and, later, German immigrants. The early recorded name for the village was “Little (Pagan) Ireland”.

The Lucius Gleason House and Liverpool Cemetery are listed on the National Register of Historic Places

TWIN TOWERS OF LIVERPOOL & NEW YORK

The infamous World Trade Centre stands in our memories as a symbol of terror, I spotted another synchronicity when looking at the Royal Liver Buildings, Liverpool and the World Trade Centre, New York. Both landmarks overlooked world famous waterfronts. The two buildings had the twin theme running through them. Liverpool’s Twin Towers will of gone generally unnoticed as twin towers before now, so what does water and twins link to?

This makes me think of Gemini (Twins & The Creator) and Aquarius.

Aquarius is the eleventh astrological sign in the Zodiac, originating from the constellation Aquarius. The water carrier represented by the zodiacal constellation Aquarius is Ganymede, a beautiful Phrygian youth.

Gemini is the third astrological sign in the zodiac, originating from the constellation of Gemini. Under the tropical zodiac, the sun transits this sign between May 21 (3) and June 21 (3). Gemini is represented by The Twins Castor and Pollux. 11 x 3=33.

The Liver building opened in 1911, the same year as the transport strikes. The building is the purpose-built home of the Royal Liver Assurance group, which had been set up in the city in 1850 to provide locals with assistance related to losing a wage-earning relative. One of the first buildings in the world to be built using reinforced concrete, the Royal Liver Building stands at 98.2 m (322 ft Skull & Bones) tall to the top of the spires, and 50.9 m (167 ft) to the main roof.

It is located at the Pier Head and along with the neighbouring Cunard Building and Port of Liverpool Building is one of Liverpool’s Three Graces, which line the city’s waterfront.

Look at the Freemasonic tea-party that was held around the clock faces before they were hoisted up to the twin towers. This big magic circle is a classic ritualistic layout and you will see similar things in many places including at Mecca when pilgrims circumnavigate around the cube which represents Saturn. The center of this circle looks like the sun in another song and dance connected to sun worship. This photograph was taken a year before the sinking of the Titanic, it begs the question, how many of these men were on board the stricken vessel?

The two clock towers were the crowning point of the building,taking it to over 300 feet in height and allowing sailors from all over the River Mersey to see what time it was. The four clocks were easy enough to see, as their diameter of seven and a half meters made them the largest clock faces in the country, bigger than those on Big Ben (BB=22) in London, which are 6.9 meters (69/96 as above so below). 18 inches (666) shorter than the Liver Building clock faces.

The clocks were made by Gent & Co of Leicester, whose electric timepieces were on display in railway stations all over the world. They each consisted of 27 sections Before installation, forty Royal Liver executives and civic dignitaries held a special dinner, with one of the clock faces used as a dining table. The huge clock faces, whose hands alone weighed 5cwts, were then hoisted up to the towers in May 1911 in readiness for the big switch on, which would see the clocks being controlled electronically from the Greenwich Observatory.

The clocks were started on 22nd June 1911 (Summer Solstice) at 1.40pm, the precise time George V was crowned. It was the Royal Liver Chairman Mark Lewis who started them off, telling the VIPs (Freemasons) gathered that Liverpool had always been loyal to kings and queens and it was only right that the largest electrical timepieces in the world should be started at the time His Majesty was crowned. On turning the lever, Mr Lewis said ‘In the name of God I turn on this lever’ before his suggestion that they be known as he Great George Liver Clocks was greeted with warm applause. On the river ships’ sirens blew while on the ground several verses of the National Anthem were sung.

World Trade Center (1973–2001, the building complex that was allegedly destroyed by hijackers using airplanes on September 11, 2001.

The World Trade Center was a large complex of seven buildings in Lower Manhattan, New York City, United States. It featured landmark twin towers, which opened on April 4 (4/4 the Obama number, Caesar, Half of 88), 1973, and were destroyed in the September 11 attacks, with 7 World Trade Center collapsing later that day due to the damage it suffered when the twin towers collapsed that morning. The other buildings in the complex were severely damaged by the collapse of the twin towers, and their ruins were eventually demolished.

THE LIVER BIRDS

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yt8-otWr4dU%5B/embedyt%5D

Liverpool has many well-known landmarks with the city having made a lasting impression on the world stage through the Football Clubs, The Beatles and the Slave Trade of course. We live in a very symbolic city (as I am showing you here on this article) with one of the great visual icons being The Liver Birds which have sat proudly on top of the Royal Liver Buildings since 1911 (9/11). But again, there is a story behind the Liver Birds that is hidden in plain sight and yes it is another song and dance about Satan, Sun Worship, and sacrifice.

Most people associate Liverpool with the two liver birds but there is another on a Grade II-Listed building in the city known as the Mersey Chambers which was built in 1878 for the Harrison Shipping Line.

This is known as the mother bird, it is said to pre-date the two birds that are on top of the Liver Buildings.

It made the news in recent years when it’s left-wing mysteriously went missing. Seems very political to me lol.

As with all secret traditions and belief systems which herald from ancient Greece, Rome and Egypt they carry mythology with them through generations with the whispers of the people keeping stories alive by telling children the tales of the past. As well as Liverpool being steeped in symbols from those mythologies, for example, you only have to walk around the city center to see the Neptune statues and carvings in a lot of the buildings, but Liverpool has its own mythology in the story of the Liver Birds. But where did the story originate from? Let’s take a look at the Wikipedia version first.

After King John founded the borough of Liverpool by royal charter in 120, the city The borough’s second charter was granted by Henry III in 1229, giving the townspeople the right to form a guild with the privileges this came with, including the right to use a common seal.

This was the birth of Liverpool’s association with what is known as the Liver Bird, but what type of bird is it and what else does it symbolise?

The Liver Bird is thought to of originally been an Eagle which was used as the symbol of John the Evangelist who was the namesake and the Patron Saint of King John ( St Johns Market). Records tell us The plant sprig is interpreted as broom, a badge of the Plantagenet dynasty. Also visible on the seal is a star and crescent, one of King John’s personal badges.

In the 17th century, the birds identify had been forgotten and started to be known as either as a cormorant, a common bird in the area or as a “lever”. It is when we look into the cormorant bird and mythology around it when we start to see why it is looking down over our city.

The amount of secret references to Satan discovered on this article regarding this city is beyond belief but this next one is something which will again highlight just how these crafty bastards code the devil into almost every detail within our surroundings.

The cormorant bird features in biblical teachings in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve are watched by Satan from on top of the tree of life having turned into the bird after leaping down from Mt. Niphrates toward Earth. Observing God’s creations from the Garden, he found it’s beauty fascinating, yet, weighing up his role in the world, he decided his best option was to either destroy God’s Kingdom or at least divide it as he chose Evil. This came before he presented himself to Adam and Eve as a serpent having seen their love for each other as a symbol of Gods image he then set about to destroy their peaceful life in paradise with the temptation to eat the forbidden fruits from the Tree of Knowledge.

“Sitting on the tree of life sits the three forms of the Devil. According to Milton’s Paradise Lost, Satan enters Eden three times, once as a toad, once as a cormorant, and lastly as a snake.”

Cormorants feature in heraldry and medieval mythology, usually in their “wing-drying” pose, which was seen as representing the Christian cross, and symbolising nobility, sacrifice and greed.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8H_JVWLfl1U%5B/embedyt%5D

Let me bring you to Liverpool FC’s recent win in the 2019 Champions League final which made it a total of 6 European cups for the club. Remember 6 is the number of Satan, the 6 pointed star is a good starting point if you want to look into it some more.

We have found out that Liverpool represents Paradise, the garden of Eden, but in the devil’s image this is hell. Paradise has fallen. They keep showing us. It is written on the walls of our city. Secretly coded into the streets, embedded into our consciousness.

But the cormorant and the bittern shall possess it; the owl also and the raven shall dwell in it: and he shall stretch out upon it the line of confusion, and the stones of emptiness. (Isa 34:11)

The whole of the city was bombarded with mass rituals this week as we step forward to current day as my research on these subjects surrounding Liverpool continues 5 years after I first began. The photograph above is from the player’s trophy parade after returning from Madrid where they beat Tottenham Hotspur 2 – 0 to win the Champions League. 750.000 Liverpool FC supporters flooded the streets of Liverpool to welcome home their heroes. The symbology around the day and the cup win was starting to build into a frenzy and the parade took place on Sunday, June 2, 2019. The cup win was the night before on Saturday, June 1. The city was turned red. Here is the highly masonic St. Georges Hall and the Radio City Tower in all their Satanic Glory. I will come back to the 96.7 Radio City Tower shortly.

As the open-top bus approached the city center we began to see a lot of red smoke, fireworks and the Liver Buildings of course. That iconic shot was a must for this event and I watched the whole parade at home so I could take screenshots of the whole thing and out of the 300 or so I took here is a couple which caught my eye.

This one shows the Liver Buildings with red smoke coming from one of Liverpool’s Twin Towers. It was the East Tower, the one that faces over the city, the people, prosperity.

The image strikes me as odd for a few reasons but the main one being the fact that this red smoke was an organised part of the celebrations. There were fireworks and smoke planned into the route, this was the big finale. A lot of effort went into this scene from the technicians who will have put this all in place. One question I had was why was only one of the towers used? Why did the red smoke come from just one tower? Why did it appear as though one of the birds was on fire? One of the towers esoterically destroyed by flames? Was this a reference to a future event or was it maybe pointing back to the Notre Dame fire that we have linked to Hillsborough?

Revelation 9:2-3

He opened the bottomless pit, and smoke went up out of the pit, like the smoke of a great furnace; and the sun and the air were darkened by the smoke of the pit. Then out of the smoke came locusts upon the earth, and power was given them, as the scorpions of the earth have power.

The smoke coming out of the tower is one thing but the Liver Bird right above it is another! This looks like the Phoenix rising out of the flames does it not?

Here is what I am talking about so you have more visualisation of what I am showing you.

Look at the two images.

Isaiah 4:5

Then the LORD will create over the whole area of Mount Zion and over her assemblies a cloud by day, even smoke, and the brightness of a flaming fire by night; for over all the glory will be a canopy.

Revelation 15:8

And the temple was filled with smoke from the glory of God and from His power; and no one was able to enter the temple until the seven plagues of the seven angels were finished.

Genesis 19:28

And he looked down toward Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the valley, and he saw, and behold, the smoke of the land ascended like the smoke of a furnace.

Smoke and red flares are used by Orthodox Greeks each Easter as they perform a ritual called the Burning Of Judas as depicted below.

All this talk of fire and destruction mixed with jubilation is giving me the creeps but let’s carry on. The Liver Buildings are now seen in a whole new way by anyone who has reached this stage of the article. I have made claims and backed them up by lining it up to the information that we are presented with. Look at this about the Liver Bird. My case against this city just grows and grows. I was born here remember.

This is what is looking down over Liverpool with the Liver Buildings representing the tree of life and the city is the Garden of Eden which Satan has set about to ruin. The devil deceives, this is why instead of a Lord’s Cross on top of the Liverpool Twin Tower Liver Buildings we have a bird that featured in the Bible before the serpent. This is why this city is cursed, these are the spells placed over us all each day as we go about our lives earning our daily bread, our home is built to celebrate sacrifice and sin.

“And the little owl, and the cormorant, and the great owl, (Leviticus 11:17 KJV)”

The Tree of Life references and connections are building so let us take a look at this. I have just been looking at old maps of Liverpool I noticed this map looks like a Tree of Life shape. I combined the images so you could see. what do you think?

Next I compare the Tree of Life to the Liverpool FC logo and a picture of the Champions League cup that was part of the advertising campaign in the build-up to the final.

The Liverpool F.C logo that you can see below on the left is an old-style more original club crest. It bears comparisons to the shape of the Champions League trophy that we see on the far right of the 3 pictures. Both the club logo and the European cup resemble the Tree of Life.

We can see Liverpool players and Jurgen klopp making up the tree that is in the heavens (the firmament) as we can see depicted by the stars and galaxies in the background. The arms of the cup look like wings of an angel. Fallen angels. Jurgen Klopp seems to be top of the tree in a God-like position. We see the Egyptian King Mo Salah praying and Roberto Firmino (the firmament) with Sadio Mane’s back turned revealing his shirt and squad number 10. If we think about the number ten in an esoteric or biblical context then we can highlight many factors such as the ten commandments. In Genesis 1 we find the phrase “God said” 10 times, which is a testimony of His creative power.

The Passover lamb was selected on day 10 of the 1st month (Exodus 12:3), as was Jesus, the Lamb that takes away the sins of the world (John 12:28 – 29; 1 Corinthians 5:7). Day 10 of the 7th month is also the Holy Day known as the Day of Atonement. This unique day of fasting pictures the removal of Satan, the author of sin, before the Millennial reign of Jesus begins (Revelation 20:1 – 2).

The last great world-ruling kingdom of man under Satan is symbolized prophetically by the 10 toes of Daniel 2 and the 10 horns of Revelation 13 and 17.

The 10 plagues God sent on ancient Egypt, in order to free his people, represented his complete and total judgment of the pagan empire.

The Nile River is turned into blood

Plague of Frogs

Plague of Lice

Swarms of Beasts

Plague on the Cattle

Boils

Great storm of hail, thunder and lightening

Locusts

Darkness over the entire land for three days

The death of the firstborn of both man and beast

We have learned a couple of things about the city of Liverpool such as the Liver Birds which not many people are aware of so let us take a moment to look into the meaning of the eagle which is what the Liver Bird was originally thought to be.

The Eagle is symbolic to the Scottish rite of 33rd degree Freemasonry and is used on masonic logos by secret societies who have carried on the mystery teachings of ancient Babylon. There is proof of their existence all around us it is just a matter of training your eyes to be able to spot the signs and symbols, in a way, you need to learn how to see backwards to decode it all.

The double headed eagle is associated with the concept of Empire. Most modern uses of the symbol are directly or indirectly associated with its use by the Roman/Byzantine Empire, whose use of it represented the Empire’s dominion over the Near East and the West.

To understand why the eagle is a satanic symbol I have to explain the story of Nimrod, the Sun God to you briefly.

The Freemasonic eagle with two heads looking left and right, east and west, is symbolic of Nimrod in the role of Eannu. Eannus, is said to have held the keys to the doors of heaven and he was the sole intermediary between God and humanity.

Nimrod (the great grandson of Noah) followed in his father’s footsteps (Cush) and rebelled against God with his wife Semiramus. Nimrod was sentenced to death and his body was chopped up into pieces and parts were sent to other cities as a warning.

His wife fled in despair, after claiming her husband had ascended to the Sun she went around each city collecting the parts of her beloveds corpse and was able to collect all except for his penis which is why we see the phallic symbol on world landmarks and is the true meaning of the Christmas tree also with Nimrod’s birthday falling on December 25th. This proves the festive season to be just another repackaged ancient Babylonian mystery teaching like everything else we celebrate blindly.

Semiramus gave birth to a son on December 25th and claimed it was the reincarnation of Nimrod who had returned to rule the world, this time of year is known as the birth of the new Sun. The dance of creation and destruction is riddled throughout this story and that brings us to the sun and moon worship and how the Liver Buildings have this same theme etched into them.

The Liver Birds face east and west. The male looks over the city to the east (the people) while the female looks over the River Mersey (Prosperity) to the west. Anybody who lives in Liverpool can look at the sky every day and see the Sun rise in the east and watch it follow it’s path right over the city before setting over the Mersey to the west, this is what the Liver Birds are depicting. They are honouring the sun and moon as they travel across the city.

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I mentioned Neptune earlier, Neptune was the name that ancient Romans gave to the Greek god of the sea and earthquakes, Poseidon. He was the brother of Jupiter (Zeus) and of Pluto (Hades).

Below is an image of the Liverpool Coat of Arms and look who features with his pitchfork along side our flying friends….

The ambassador of Liverpool, the Devils brother himself, oh what a lovely tea-party.

Neptune features heavily in Liverpool, a stroll on a sunny day with your head up looking at the buildings architecture instead of down at your mobile phone will begin to open your eyes to your surroundings and you will see exactly what I am stating for yourself.

Church street in Liverpool city centre is very busy at any given moment of the week with hundreds if not thousands of shoppers and workers occupying the area unaware of what is directly above them on one of the most well known shopping buildings in L1. Mark’s & Spencer historically known as Compton House.

The masonry work on the building is impressive, as are many of the buildings in the city centre. Showing the fine craftsmanship of the people of Liverpool who will of built the buildings to the architects designs but they will not of realised what they were etching into the stone as they worked. Here you can see Neptune with his trident on top of Marks & Spencer. There is also another Liver Bird on the side of the building which is hidden inside a pyramid-like shape with an all seeing eye at the top of the triangle.

This is a good chance to look into some of the alpha numerical conversions of some of the words of interest after the topics we have just covered regarding the Liver Birds and buildings along with the city.

As we can see the word Liverpool comes out with a Reverse Ordinal of 119 which is 911 in reverse. We also see Reverse Full Reduction of 47, this is significant as the numbers add up to 11, but more references to the Twin Towers and WTC exist here as I mentioned earlier The World Trade Centre building 7 had 47 floors before being demolished. The Full Reduction of the word Liverpool is 52 which is also 5+2=7.

The 42 in Chaldean is a reference to the Rainbow which can only be viewed from 42 degrees by the human eye. This is why the LGBT community have adopted the rainbow as their logo as it is another mockery of Gods image and goes against reproduction process of human life. 4+2 is 33 and we know where we have seen that number before.

The next word I want to show you is liver as in the first half of the word Liverpool this is something I have been eager to get to, and as always I did learn a thing or two myself. So here goes with one of the most revealing parts of the article as it confirms Liverpool is under a spell and how we are caught up in a spiritual war that is unknown to the masses.

This is a cryptic corker if ever I have seen one and the numbers don’t lie. Straight out the bag we have 30 in the Full Reduction but Freemasons do not recognise the zero so this drops down to a 3 and 3 is the magic number which is a reference to the Holy Trinity and the Rosa Mystica which we will get back to later when we look at Nelsons Monument on the grounds of Liverpool Town Hall, and believe me it is loaded with 88’s.

Reverse Full Reduction of the word Liver gives us the number 33 which is not good. The Reverse Ordinal is 69 and this brings us to the 69/96 as above so below mirror. This is seen on every Masonic Lodge entrance and is symbolic of the Royal Arch. The number 96 has left an ever lasting pain on The City of Liverpool with the victims of the Hillsborough tragedy tallying up to the occult number. The diagram below shows the number 69 on the Royal Arch. Can you see the hallmark of the Freemasons all over Hillsborough? I can.

In case you wanted more information on the Royal arch, here is a screenshot from the Liverpool Group of Lodges & Chapters website which you can click to be directed to the page that explains all.

Here we can see a list of Masonic Lodges in the North West but look how many are registered in Liverpool that you know of but did not know they were riddled with Freemasons. Click the image to view more information.

To finish off on the word liver we have Chaldean 17 which is 1+7=8 which is a Saturn reference, I will cover that subject later on in the article but we end the numbers game on English Ordinal 66.

In Greek mythology, Prometheus was punished by the gods for revealing fire to humans, by being chained to a rock where a vulture (or an eagle) would peck out his liver, which would regenerate overnight. (The liver is the only human internal organ that actually can regenerate itself to a significant extent.) Many ancient peoples of the Near East and Mediterranean areas practiced a type of divination called haruspicy, where they tried to obtain information by examining the livers of sheep and other animals.

In Plato, and in later physiology, the liver was thought to be the seat of the darkest emotions (specifically wrath, jealousy and greed) which drive men to action. The Talmud refers to the liver as the seat of anger, with the gallbladder counteracting this.

The term “Talmud” normally refers to the collection of writings named specifically the Babylonian Talmud.

In other biblical and spiritual references the liver also signifies interior purification, for the liver purifies the blood, but the intestines purify those things from which the blood is derived. This denotes the good of the external or natural man, is because by the bullock, in which is this caul, is signified the good of innocence and of charity in the external or natural man (AC 9990).

Elsewhere the liver signifies the external good of innocence such as belongs to infants, because before the rest of the viscera have been fully formed for their use, which is the case when the infants are embryos, these are nourished through the liver, all the nutritious juice is brought there through the placenta and the umbilical cord from the womb of the mother. This juice corresponds to the good of innocence.

That this good is signified by the liver is evident in Jeremiah:–

Mine eyes have been consumed by tears, my inwards have been troubled, my liver hath been poured forth on the earth, for the breach of the daughter of my people; the infant and the suckling faint in the streets, they say to their mothers, Where is grain and vine? (Lam. 2:11, 12);

in this passage is described the grief of the vastated church; grief for destroyed truth is signified by the eyes being consumed by tears; grief for the destroyed truth of innocence, by the inwards being troubled; and grief for the destroyed good of innocence, by the liver being poured forth on the earth. Wherefore the infant and the suckling are said to faint in the streets, and they say to their mothers, Where is grain and wine? The daughter of the people for whose breach is this grief, denotes the church (AC 2362, 3963, 6729); eyes denote the things of the internal sight, thus the truths of faith (AC 4526, 4528, 9051); the inwards denote the truths of innocence (AC 3294); the liver denotes the good of innocence; for the infants and sucklings who faint in the streets, denote those who are in the good of innocence (AC 430, 3183, 4563, 5608); the grain and wine concerning which they say to their mothers, Where are they? denote the good of truth and the truth of good; grain, the good of truth (AC 5959); wine, the truth of good (AC 1071, 1798).

Do you understand this is why Liverpool has so much pain over the years? This is the reason we endure tragedies like Hillsborough, whilst the families have been forced to fight these Freemasons for Justice for the 96 for almost three decades.

It has been said before that you can’t knock Liverpool down and keep it down, the people will remain strong spirited through the darkest days and these people who initiate this pain on our city know this. They have us placed in an emotional loop of which they thrive on the negative energies it creates. Yes our city has had its good times but they have come at a price. The founders of Liverpool struck a deal with the devil in return for prosperity and the pain inflicted since has been the price to pay for success. it is coded into the name of the city it is in our faces day in day out. We live in the liver loop. The liver (spirit) regenerates the pool (people) after purification of the blood occurs (sacrifice) and it will go on forever (loop).

Occult Liverpool The Home Of The Wicca Man – Gerald Gardner

Such an occult region has got to have some well-reknowned occultists either living here or who have been famed for witchcraft on Merseyside. This brings us to the man who founded modern Wicca, Blundellsands born Gerald Brosseau Gardner, also known by the craft name Scire. Scire means ‘Know’ in Latin.

A craft name, also known as magical/magickal name, is a secondary religious name often adopted by practitioners of Wicca and other forms of Neopagan witchcraft or magic.

His birthplace may well be the reason occultist popstar Lana del Rey was so eager to visit Crosby Beach during her second stay at the city as she performed at the ECHO arena during the August Lunar Eclipse in 2017.

Born on Friday, June 13, 1884, Gardner had a very good chance of being a creep from day one. He is internationally recognised as the “Father of Wicca” among the Pagan and occult communities. Born into a middleclass family on Merseyside, Gardner was able to travel the world and gain a lot of information that most people would have no access to. After returning to England to retire, he Settled down near the New Forest, and joined an occult group, the Rosicrucian Order Crotona Fellowship.

Founded in 1920 by George Alexander Sullivan, the Fellowship had been based upon a blend of Rosicrucianism, Theosophy, Freemasonry and his own personal innovation, and had moved to Christchurch in 1930.

Another belief held by the group that Gardner found amusing was that a lamp hanging from one of the ceilings was the disguised holy grail of Arthurian legend. Gardner’s dissatisfaction with the group grew, particularly when in 1939, one of the group’s leaders sent a letter out to all members in which she stated that war would not come. The very next day, Britain declared war on Germany, greatly unimpressing the increasingly cynical Gardner.

Through the fellowship, Gardner, said he had encountered the New Forest coven into which he was initiated in 1939. Believing the coven to be a survival of the pre-Christian witch-cult discussed in the works of Margaret Murray, he decided to revive the faith, supplementing the coven’s rituals with ideas borrowed from Freemasonry, ceremonial magic and the writings of Aleister Crowley to form the Gardnerian tradition of Wicca.

Moving to London in 1945, he became intent on propagating this religion, attracting media attention and writing about it in High Magic’s Aid (1949), Witchcraft Today (1954) and The Meaning of Witchcraft (1959). He also Founded a Wiccan group known as the Bricket Wood coven.

On May Day 1947, Gardner’s friend Arnold Crowther introduced him to Aleister Crowley, the ceremonial magician who had founded the religion of Thelema in 1904. Shortly before his death, Crowley elevated Gardner to the IV° of Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.) and issued a charter decreeing that Gardner could admit people into its Minerval degree. The charter itself was written in Gardner’s handwriting and only signed by Crowley.

Gardner hoped to spread Wicca, and described some of its practices in a fictional form as High Magic’s Aid. Set in the twelfth-century, Gardner included scenes of ceremonial magic based on The Key of Solomon.

Queen Victoria Monument

Liverpool Crown Court is built on historical land that was originally home to Liverpool Castle. On he grounds of the court we have the Queen Victoria Monument.

The Queen Victoria Monument is a large neo-Baroque or Beaux-Arts monument at Derby Square in Liverpool.

A large ensemble featuring 26 bronze figures by C. J. Allen (some in New Sculpture style), it was designed by F. M. Simpson of the Liverpool School of Architecture, in collaboration with the local architectural firm of Willink and Thicknesse and built of Portland stone. The foundation stone was laid on 11 October 1902 by Field Marshal Lord Roberts, Commander-in-Chief of the Forces. The monument was unveiled on 27 September 1906. It is a Grade II Listed structure, a preservation category for structures of special public interest.

I find it highly strange that September 27 is also the 270th day of the year, can you see what I see? Remember 9+9+9 is 27, 999 is 666.

There are four groups of figures around the pedestal, representing agriculture, commerce, industry and education. Among the figures representing education is a statue modelled on Sir Oliver Lodge. A large (4.42 metres (14.5 ft) statue of Queen Victoria is at the centre, centred in four groups of columns which support a baldacchino-like open dome (which Terry Cavanagh called the monument’s “least successful feature”). On top of the column groups are four allegorical figures representing justice, wisdom, charity, and peace. Atop the dome itself is a large figure representing fame.

In Greek mythology, Pheme (/ˈfeɪmeɪ/ FAY may; Greek: Φήμη, Roman equivalent: Fama), also known as Ossa, was the personification of fame and renown, her favour being notability, her wrath being scandalous rumors. She was a daughter either of Gaia or of Elpis (Hope), was described as “she who initiates and furthers communication” and had an altar at Athens. A tremendous gossip, Pheme was said to have pried into the affairs of mortals and gods, then repeated what she learned, starting off at first with just a dull whisper, but repeating it louder each time, until everyone knew. In art, she was usually depicted with wings and a trumpet.

In Roman mythology, Fama (“rumor”) was described as having multiple tongues, eyes, ears and feathers by Virgil (in Aeneid IV line 180 and following) and other authors. Virgil wrote that she “had her feet on the ground, and her head in the clouds, making the small seem great and the great seem greater”

Nelson Monument Liverpool Town Hall

Nelson’s Monument is another symbol of Liverpool that has esoteric undertones hidden within its design, just like the Twin Tower Liver Buildings. You can find Nelson’s Monument at Liverpool’s Town Hall.

The Nelson Monument is a monument to Admiral Horatio Nelson, in Exchange Flags, Liverpool, England. It was designed by Matthew Cotes Wyatt and sculpted by Richard Westmacott. It stands to the north of the Town Hall and was unveiled in 1813.

Wikipedia tells us some information about the design of the monument. Look at the numbers game in this.

The monument consists of a bronze statue on a stone base. Its overall height is 29 (11) feet (8.8 m 88), and the circumference of the base is 95 feet 4 inches (29.1 m 1191). The base consists of a drum-shaped pedestal in Westmorland marble 8 feet 10 inches (2.7 m 9+9+9=27 9×3=27 Sun Worship) high, standing on a granite basement 6 feet (1.8 m 18=666) high. Seated around the pedestal are four statues depicting manacled prisoners sitting in poses of sadness; they represent Nelson’s major victories, the battles of Cape St Vincent, the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar. Set into the drum between the statues are four bronze bas-reliefs depicting other naval actions in which Nelson was involved. Encircling the pedestal above the statues are swags of laurel hanging from behind lions’ heads. Attached to rings in the lions’ mouths are chains that descend to manacle the prisoners. At the top of the pedestal is a cornice with an inscription in metal letters reading ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY .

On top of the pedestal is a bronze group of figures 14 (14=77) feet 2 inches (4.3m 4=3=7 G on Masonic Compass = 7) high, each figure being 7 feet (2.1 2+1=3 trinity) in height, and forming a roughly pyramidal structure. There are five figures surrounded by the drapes and poles of captured flags, with an anchor and a rope on the ground. An idealised nude representation of Nelson stands with one foot on a cannon and the other on an enemy’s corpse, holding upright a sword on which Victory is placing the last of four crowns. To the right of Nelson is the figure of Death reaching out to touch him. On the left of Nelson is a British seaman striding forward. Behind Nelson is the figure of Britannia holding a laurel wreath and Nelson’s decorations.

The monument was the first item of public sculpture to be erected in Liverpool, and is recorded in the National Heritage List for England as a designated Grade II* listed building. Grade II* is the middle of the three grades of designation for listed buildings and is applied to “particularly important buildings of more than special interest”.

SPEAKING OF TRIANGLES – THE SLAVE TRADE.

200 Million Deaths

100 Million Native Americans Culled

100 Million Hebrew Africans Culled

Liverpool’s Rise And Shame Of Torture & Death

Another huge black spot on the history of Liverpool is indeed the slave trade. The slave trade held many dark stories but one I have always thought about is how slaves were thrown overboard during times of low food and illness. It gets worse as owners of the slaves then documented to have filed and won insurance claims for loss of stock. The atrocity was aboard the Liverpool slave ship, Zong. 133 slaves to the new world as they were called were killed in the Zong massacre.

Many factors led to the demise of slavery including revolts, piracy, social unrest, and the repercussions of corruption such as slave insurance fraud, e.g. the Zong massacre case in 1783. It was Liverpool born politician William Roscoe who spearheaded the anti-Slavery movement in parliament at the time.

Estimates of total deaths in the entire slave trade range from 50 to 200 million, but even the lower estimates qualify the transatlantic slave trade as the greatest crime in human history. (The Nazi Holocaust and Stalin’s Gulag Archipelago are the only contenders.)

On 3 October 1699, the very same year that Liverpool had been granted status as an independent parish, Liverpool’s first ‘recorded’ slave ship, named Liverpool Merchant, set sail for Africa, arriving in Barbados with a ‘cargo’ of 220 Africans, returning to Liverpool on 18 September 1700. The following month a second recorded ship, The Blessing, set sail for the Gold Coast.

Vast profits from the slave trade transformed Liverpool into one of Britain’s foremost important cities. Liverpool became a financial center, rivaled by Bristol, another slaving port, and beaten only by London. In the peak year of 1799, ships sailing from Liverpool carried over 45,000 slaves from Africa.

Slavery in British colonies was finally abolished in 1833 and slave trading was made illegal in 1807 though some slavery apprenticeships ran until 1838 (911). However, many merchants managed to ignore the laws and continued to deal in underground slave trafficking, also underhandedly engaging in financial investments for slaving activities in the Americas.

THE CURSE OF HAM UNLEASHED ON AFRICANS BY LIVERPOOL

The curse of Ham father of Canaan was invented by the Pharisees who were descendants of Cain. Cain was the biological son of Satan.

LIVERPOOL FOOTBALL CLUB

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Liverpool FC was founded on June 3rd, 1892 although first became a club earlier in the year on the 15th March 1892.

There are 96 years between June 3rd, 1892, and the day of the Hillsborough disaster – April 15th 1989.

From 3/6/1892, Liverpool founded, to 15/4/1989, Hillsborough disaster, = 96 yrs plus 96+96+96 days and 96+96+96+96+96+96+96 hours. (96 yrs and 316 days.), 96 dead.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2017/05/08/scary-forshadowing-exposed/

This is the weirdest thing you will ever see, the very start of me uploading videos to Youtube, and it is a very very very good date for us to look back over. It was march 15th 2014, in all its significance the ides of March. It was also the day Russia annexed Crimea. I was watching the football highlights program in the UK, Match of the day. A very big show, more so that night because Liverpool fc had played Manchester United, another of the top 5 well known and supported clubs in the land.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/ILLUMINATI-ALL-SEEING-EYE-SUBLIMINAL-SYMBOLS-FLASHING-ON-MATCH-OF-THE-DAY-BBC1-UK-IDES-OF-MARCH.mp4

Liverpool versus Manchester is watched all over the world. This episode of Match of the day will have been watched by millions as Liverpool fc were looking good to go on and win the championship for the first time in 22 years. They beat Manchester Utd 3 – 0 on the day after Getting 3 penalties, missing one at Manchester United’s Stadium, Old Trafford. Considering the support in all Continents for the teams images seen in the above video certainly got the job done, but what did it mean ”ALL ELITES LEAVE THE PLANET” or something?

As you can see there is a lot more to it than what meets the eye, excuse the pun!! A bigger pattern can now stem from this so let’s begin to look deeper.

It was 2015, the hit show Match of the day first aired in the UK 46 years prior on the 22 August 1964. We have a 64 46 mirror here. Liverpool Versus Arsenal was the first ever game to be shown.

I’ve always known the year the club was founded but Liverpool Shockingly enough I discovered the club was created on the date of March 15th of the year 1892 (1892 is 9/11). It gets deeper, we knew at the start of my investigation. Do you remember the date of the match of the day show from earlier and the running theme of the strange symbols.

March 15 is the 74th day of the year (75th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar. There are 291 days remaining until the end of the year. In the Roman calendar March 15 was known as the Ides of March, and it was on this day that Julius Caesar was murdered. Next I calculated the days and years between the date of Liverpool fc foundation and the day of the spooky match of the day symbolism was it a secret birthday message.

From and including: Tuesday, 15 March 1892 (9/11) To and including: Saturday, 15 March 2014 (15 is 6 which is 33 the masonic number) Result: 44,560 days – we find the obama number 44 again and 5+6 is 11 It is 44,560 days from the start date to the end date, end date included Or 122 years, 1 day including the end date Alternative time units 44,560 days can be converted to one of these units:

3,849,984,000 seconds 64,166,400 minutes 1,069,440 hours 44,560 days 6365 weeks and 5 days

44,560 = 44 – 11

HOLY SHIT SHERLOCK IS LIVERPOOL F.C TIED TO PRESIDENT OBAMA AND JULIOS CAESAR AND 9/11 SURLY NOT – WELL CLEARLY SO.

The assassination of Julius Caesar was the result of a conspiracy by forty Roman senators, the self-styled Liberatores. They were led by Cassius (see links to Mohammad Ali) and Brutus. The conspirators stabbed Caesar to death in the Theatre of Pompey on the Ides of March, 15 March 44 BC (here we see the 44 number the Obama number). Caesar was the dictator of the Roman Republic at the time. He had been declared dictator perpetuo (dictator for life) by the Senate. This declaration resulted in many senators fearing that Caesar’s ambition was to overthrow the Senate in favour of a tyranny.

Next we take a quick look at the huge phallic symbol that was lit up in red for the Champions League celebrations in the city. The Radio City 96.7 tower formerly known as St. Johns Beacon is one of many phallic symbols in the city. You can see an image below where I have joined the tower up with a picture of a phallus at Vatican City, Rome. This is symbolic of Nimrods lost penis. This will be explained later on in the article

I agree with anyone who says it is just a common aviation control tower, but for these purposes and the energy needed for these rituals this is a blatant phallus.

It is not just me who can see these things in this city and here is a very awakened friend of mine, Bob Mizer, who posted this next information on Facebook hours before Liverpool’s triumphant victory that seems more staged the more we look at it.

Something else worth pointing out is how when we seen players on the back of the parade bus we only ever seen two players with the number 6 on the back of their shirts. We would see the two 6’s next to each other at all times and the bus decorations had the 6 trophies that the club have now won on their display. This was 666 on display all day to the world. Over 750.000 people attended the parade as mentioned and the YouTube footage alone from @LFCTV had around 200.000 viewers as it was live.

Another point I must make is about the royals. We can never get through an entire ritual like this without the Royals being coded into it somewhere. For example at the Manchester Arena bombing we had royal bloodlines coded in via the name of a park near a terror attack. The Queen Victoria Gardens. This is quite common. So I was not surprised when I looked at the date of the parade June 2nd and found it did line up to alleged nobility.

June 2 is the 153rd day of the year in the Gregorian calendar. 212 days remain until the end of the year.

The 212 days remaining are a 33 day, the 33 is mirrored by 2+1 and then the 1+2 giving us the two 3’s.

The Mirror date of June 2nd is July 31st. this is because July 31st is the 212nd day of the year. We may want to keep an eye out for an event on July 31st, 2019. But for now I am heading somewhere with this.

I mentioned the Royals and rightly so. This is because 66 years to the date of the parade we seen Queen Elizabeth the 2nd being crowned at her coronation. Here is a breakdown of the time duration between June 2nd 1953 and June 2nd 2019.

To ensure the mass ritual carried on in full flow, the next stage was set at Anfield for a nicely timed Take That comeback gig at the famous football ground on June 6th 2019, yes that 66 again, 6/6!

As I was taking the weeks events in like wow, wow, wow, I felt excited for the team I have supported all my life winning the 6th European Cup. But wow to how in my face all these synchronicities were. We really have been hammered this week. They have spirit cooked the living daylights out of us. Anyone with a basic understanding of the occult will confirm this to you with one look at this article if it is new to you.

Watch this video and look at the big screens, they are another fiasco hidden in plain sight.

I have no words for that big giant God of War behind Take that and Gerry Marsden at Anfield. Can somebody explain to me what it has got to do with Take That, Gerry Marsden, You’ll never Walk alone or Liverpool or shall I tell you what it is because it has nothing to do with any of the above whatsoever. The backdrop to the Take That and Gerry Marsden Satanic performance was a bad omen. Why would anyone want to show so many people so many bad omens all centered around one seemingly joyful occasion?

Here is some more articles of mine that show moons and Mars and why they are omens. Take note we have a blood moon due on around the 16/17th of July 2019. This follows Junes Summer Solstice on the 22nd when all the pagans and druids will be out in force as usual. If we see an uptick in animal slashings again this year such cat mutilations and horses attacked to obtain blood for rituals then we know who to blame.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2017/04/21/april-21-attack-warning/

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2016/10/02/black-moon-rises-lileth-ww3/

We have seen the number 6 ever since June 1st. What else can I dig out for you to highlight how this all works? Let us look at the number 6 a moment.

In the Bible, the number 6 symbolizes man and human weakness, the evils of Satan and the manifestation of sin. Man was created on the sixth day. Men are appointed 6 days to labor.

A Hebrew slave was to serve six years and be released in the 7th year. Six years were appointed for the land to be sown and harvested. The number 6 is also associated with Satan in his temptation of Jesus.

The bringing together of three 6‘s is the number and mark of the end time Beast of Revelation. As such, it represents the very best system of governance that mankind can produce WITHOUT God and under the constant influence of his chief adversary.

Man’s system on earth is made up of three parts (economic, religious and governmental) all of which are influenced and led by Satan. When 666 is multiplied by 7 it equals 4662, which depicts man’s total imperfection under Lucifer. When added across, 4 + 6 + 6 + 2 = 18; and 18 divided by 3 is 6.

6% Of 666 is 39.96, I find this interesting. I do not have to point out the 96 to Liverpool fans or people who understand 96 as meaning as above so below again but i will. Now what about that 39? 13×3=39. Jesus is linked by the 39 lashings he received during his crucifixion. Mars is said to be 39 million miles away. There are 39 members of the Bilderberg group. if we flip the numbers we which we relate to Aleister Crowley and his Thelema 93 teachings as well as the sun allegedly being 93 million miles away.

The 11.100% we got from dividing 666 by 6 left us with a 111. This gives us a 3 which is the number of the Holy Trinity. Symbol of the Trinity of God, One and Three times Saint. It represents the God-Father in the Holy Trinity. It symbolizes also the Sky.

According to the narration of Maria Valtorta, during of the bearing of the Cross until the Golgotha just like at the moment of his crucifixion, Jesus is escorted by 111 Roman soldiers: 1 commander, named Longin, 10 knights and 100 other soldiers. It is Longin who, having seen how Jesus had expired, declared “In truth this man was the Son of God” (Mk 15,39).

The popes John-Paul I and John-Paul II have been elected both by a conclave of 111 cardinals.

The magic square using the first 36 numbers is associated to the sun and has for sum 111. If we add each number up from 1 to 36 we get 666.

Can you remember when Liverpool beat Paris Saint Germain 3-2 in the group stages of the Champions League at Anfield? They were leading 2-0 only for PSG to drag it back to 2-2 before Roberto Firmino came of the bench to score a late winner days after hurting his eye and being deemed unfit to start the match? He covered his eye to mock an all seeing eye as his celebration. Roberto Firmino is covered in sigils as you can see on his tattoos. Research illuminati star tattoo meaning.

You can read my article about Liverpool F.C’s biblical transfers that no one noticed when I featured Roberto Firmino, Mo Salah, Sadio Mane and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain here.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2017/08/30/liverpool-f-c-biblical-transfers/

Liverpool have reached 3 European finals in a row since Jurgen Klopp took charge and the German made it 3rd time lucky with the 2019 Champions League win after defeat in the final a year earlier to Real Madrid who are based in the city where Liverpool lifted their 6th European Cup. The semi-final draw last year was very dubious as Liverpool were drawn against Roma but the match seemed to be fixed from the start as Roma fans were sent emails with ticket and travel information for a tie with Liverpool before the draw had been made. I covered this last year. Here is my article below.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2018/04/14/roma-v-liverpool-draw-fix-exposed/

There is more than one team in Liverpool and this brings me to my next topic I want to talk about. The red/blue, Everton/Liverpool divide and conquer tactic used on the people.

You see, in Liverpool we are born boy or girl, (no offence to LGBT alphabet community intended) or a Liverpool or Everton fan. The success levels between the two clubs suggest it is the Evertonians who have been drawn the short straw when their allegiance is sworn for them by parents when they are young. The tit-for-tat between us Liverpool fans and Evertonians is outright childish and pathetic. It was out in force during the build up to the final with Everton fans resorting to placing Tottenham Hotspur flags outside their homes or even using Spurs club logos as facebook profile pictures.

Liverpool went on to win the cup and the Everton fans were sent into a frenzy very much with the opposing energy of that from the Liverpool fans. It drove them nuts watching us basque in our teams glory.

Everton’s iconic Rupert’s tower was vandalised by Liverpool fans who placed 6’s on the historical landmark that is featured on the Everton F.C club badge.

Evertonians retaliated by spray painting the word nonce on a wall mural of Liverpool manager Jurgen Klopp.

The problem here is the people doing it could not see the problem. In fact, they could not see the meaning of it all in the first place and this leads us into the merging of the red and blue to make purple and why that is important to the occult realm.

I mentioned bloodlines earlier and this is why. This is where I wanted to explain it to you because the red and blue is important.

There are many factors to the symbolism behind the colour coding around our two famous football teams whose stadiums are separated by just a park. The closest teams in the Premier League with around a mile between them.

Brothers, sisters, friends, lovers and colleagues all around the city have a common difference. Households are split in two by the red and the blue of Liverpool and Everton Football Clubs.

This now takes down another line of research that I have waited a very long time to explain properly all in one place and the city and teams we love provides us with the perfect platform for me to do just that.

Red and Blue is Fire and Ice, is that phrase familiar to you after the last 8 years of Game of Thrones? I thought so!

The red represents the sun and the blue is symbolic of the moon. Yes we have more sun and moon references but it gets deeper.

Sun and moon on a cloudy sky forming Yin Yang balance symbol

The Scarab Beatles

The Beatles are another gang of crafty string pullers and they are next on the page and boy are we going to have a good time with this section.

SACRIFICE & RITUAL DATES

March 11 – Creation Day – A blot is done in honor of the Creation of the world bo Odin, Vili, and Ve on this day (3/11=33). – Ken Dodd Death, 2017.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2018/04/03/ken-dodd-freemasonic-funeral/

March 15 – Ides of March – Caesar murdered 44BC (one month before the Hillsborough disaster, Fordica Roman festival) –

“The Reed Entered”. Its exact significance is uncertain (the reeds may refer to the river bank where Attis was exposed as a child and rescued by Cybele). A nine-day period of abstinence from bread, pomegranates, quinces, pork, fish, and probably wine began. Only milk was permitted as a drink.

Key events include the Christchurch Masacre in 2019. Also be sure to check out my true prediction where I named the date and place for the Ides of March 2018 bridge collapse after the Valentines day, Florida school shootings when I decoded that event.

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2019/03/30/christchurch-shootings-audio-enhanced/

March 22 – Hilaria (7 days after Ides of March) – Skull & Bones (322 3/22) – Brussels Airport Bombings 2016.

“The Tree Entered” (Arbor intrat). A pine tree from a wood sacred to Cybele is felled following the sacrifice of a ram at its roots. The tree was carried in procession through the city as if in a funeral to the Temple of Cybele on the Palatine Hill.http://enchantedlifepath.com/2018/02/10/winter-olympics-ritual-watch-s-korea/

http://enchantedlifepath.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/EXPOSED-Brussels-Bombings-322-Skull-Bones-3-22-Hilaria-Pagan-Festival-ANOTHER-SACRAFICE.mp4

March 23 – A day of mourning – The Salii, dancing priests of Mars performed their sacred dance and the mourning and fasting continued. Salii has also been also viewed as as marking the opening and the closing of the yearly war season. The opening would coincide with the day of the Agonium Martiale on March 19, and the closing with the day of the Armilustrium on October 19 (8 days after the Ides, 8 = 44, Saturn, Obama number)

http://enchantedlifepath.com/2018/03/24/trebes-ritual-three-evils-69-war/

March 24 – “The Day of Blood” (Sanguis). Frenzied rites including scourging and whipping. Castration rituals would take place on this day. The tree is symbolically buried.

March 25 – “The Day of Joy” (Hilaria) celebrating the resurrection of Attis. This was the hilaria proper (as opposed to the mournful tone of the previous days).

March 26 – A day of rest.

March 27 – “The Washing” (Lavatio). Added by Marcus Aurelius.

March 28 – Possible ceremony at the Vatican sanctuary. Appears in the Calendar of Philocalus.

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Mersey, Titanic Liverpool, Alfie Evans Liverpool, Government against Liverpool, Liverpool Propaganda, Winston Churchill Liverpool Invasion, Winston Churchill attacked Liverpool, Liverpool slave trade history, Slave trade abolished, Camel Laird, World In Action Liverpool, World In Action Bin Dippers in Liverpool, Scouse Not English, Liverpool reform, Liverpool Referendum, Liverpool May Day Blitz, Liverpool History: New York 9/11 Code And The Lost Twin of Babylon, Liverpool and WW1, Liverpool WW2, Liverpool Slave Trade, Liverpool Heysel Disaster, Liverpool Hillsborough Disaster, Liverpool 1911 Transport Strike, Occult Liverpool, Hillsborough Decoded, Liverpool History Explained, Liverpool History Enchanted LifePath, Liverpool History Documentary, Liverpool Bin Dippers, Liverpool Heysel Murderers name tag, Liverpool Branded Murderers, Thatcher’s Managed Decline of Liverpool, Managed Decline Liverpool, EU Commission Liverpool, Liverpool Docks, History Of Liverpool Docks, Occult LFC, 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Liverpool History Liverpool History

Liverpool History – The Untold Story: Second City Of The Empire Decoded

Liverpool History: The Lost Twin of Babylon Liverpool History – You will learn more & have the best experience if you can find time to watch all the videos in the article along the way.

Liverpool History – The Untold Story: Second City Of The Empire Decoded Liverpool History: The Lost Twin of Babylon Liverpool History - You will learn more & have the best experience if you can find time to watch all the videos in the article along the way.

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flamegodess · 5 years

Text

Let The Darkness Fall-Chapter 14

Aaand I’m out of hiatus! Chapter 14 is here, guys!

Genre: romance, vampire au, young royai, action

Rating: T or M

Warning: some descriptions might be disturbing so don’t forget is a vampire au

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“Rebecca invited me to her aunt’s house during the spring holiday.” Riza announced casually as she entered her father’s office after returning from school. Roy lifted his glance from the alchemy book he was reading. She had created the story the whole day. The best part? She hadn’t even told Roy about this excuse, so his surprised expression only made her story more plausible.

“Where is that?”

“Dublith.” She replied innocently as Roy flinched with realization. How cunning she could be.

“For how long?” her father went on with the questioning.

“Two weeks.” She replied and couldn’t help but saw Roy smirking from the corner of his mouth.

“This is a very long time. And I don’t want you to ignore studying for school two whole weeks.”

Riza stared at the floor. “Sometimes a break is good for the brain. Just saying.” Roy murmured.

“A break from what? It’s not like she’s struggling too much with school anyway.” Her father replied as if she wasn’t there. “You haven’t even gone to school these days.”

“I’ve just come from school. Yesterday I didn’t because I wasn’t feeling well.” That was the truth in fact. She wasn’t fully recovered yet but she couldn’t have risked more her relationship with Roy.

“Miss Katalina is not really the best influence either.” Her father went on as he was adding some notes to his research. Riza resisted the urge to roll her eyes annoyed. How many reasons against the idea could he find?

“I met Rebecca.” Roy spoke again even though no one asked him anything. “She is a very nice person. Sometimes it’s good to have someone so energetic and funny by your side. Especially because Riza is so serious all the time.”

“Roy, step out of this matter and focus on what you’re doing.” His master warned him even though he realized that since Riza was in the room, it was a lost cause. However, if Riza left, then Roy would focus indeed on alchemy.

“You may go.”

“I do?”

“She does?” Roy asked, the book in his hands slipping on the floor. Berthold rolled his eyes. “Yes. Having her away from home means that you’ll actually focus on alchemy.”

They both blushed, but Roy went on. “Only that I am kind of leaving to Central during that time.” It was his time to lie.

Berthold looked at them both suspiciously.

“What an awful coincidence. You are both leaving at the same time.”

Riza bit her lower lip while Roy averted his eyes from his master. They. Were. Dead.

“Fortunately this will provide me more time for the flame alchemy.” An empty house was something he really needed.

They both relaxed. He wasn’t thinking that-

“Roy, I hope you’re not running away with my daughter.” He added in fact to see their reactions.

“I thought you had a better opinion about me, sir.” Roy replied as calmly and innocently as he could even though his heart was hammering in his chest.

“I do have. ”

“And about me?”

“That is what concerns me.”

Riza frowned.

“If I had wanted to run away with your daughter, sir, we wouldn’t have told you about our leaving.” Roy said and his master shook his head defeated.

Roy left a day before Riza so it wouldn’t look like they were indeed running away the same day. He went to Central to his aunt who owned a pub on the ground level of her apartment. It was, in fact, the place where Roy had grown up after his parents had been murdered, so his aunt was like a mother to him, while the girls who worked at the pub had become his sisters.

The next day he would wait for Riza at the station. With an exhausted sigh, Roy entered the well-known pub. The place was quite empty as it was the middle of the day. Usually, the customers were coming at nightfall and leave early in the morning. Even so, the light inside the bar was dim and the air held a faint scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol.

“Look who remembered about his aunt.” Chris spoke as she came out of the storage room and noticed the tall figure of her nephew.

“Don’t take it for granted.” He replied as the older woman pulled him into a hug. “I’m here only because I need to drink.”

“I suppose they don’t have drinks in the East city, Roy Boy?” She smirked and poured the content of a bottle into a glass. Roy sat at the bar and ruffled his already messed up hair. “I forgot you have special preferences when it comes to being thirsty.” She added before handing him the glass.

“Don’t remind me. I don’t have to think about that till tomorrow.”

“Really? Or else?” she asked even though she knew the answer.

“Or else I will turn your customers into my dinner.” He joked and moaned slightly when the drink reached his lips. For a second, his mind made it seem as if the liquid was blood. And not any type of blood. Riza’s blood. By the look on his aunt’s face, he realized his onyx eyes were now red.

“Tell me, Roy...” Chris went on more seriously, “You kept killing people whenever you were hungry?”

“Not anymore.” He replied after he emptied the glass and let the liquid burn his throat. “My Master’s daughter happened to be my feeder. Which means that her blood attracts me... Like, a lot. So I’ve been feeding on her since then. Don’t worry” he started as he noticed his aunt’s half terrified expression “she is in no danger.”

“So there's more between the two of you?”

“I never said that.” He went on as he purred himself another glass.

“Roy Boy, you are telling me that you’re drinking a young girl’s blood, that both of you enjoy it and that neither of you is romantically involved?”

“We do have something but we haven’t called it official yet.” He replied defeated not sure if his body was warm because of the thought of Riza’s blood or thanks to the welcome alcohol.

“Yet.” His aunt repeated as she scanned him with her gaze.

“What about her father? Wasn’t your alchemy master a Vampire Hunter?”

“Well... He has no idea that Riza knows about my true nature but he is sure I am a vampire. At least that’s what he told her. I don’t know why he hasn’t killed me yet. Maybe he wants to use me as a spy just like the vampires do already.”

“You seem to be handling the situation quite well.” She added half ironically, half-serious.

“Tell me about it.” He answered and yawned as he looked at his reflection in the glass walls of the glass. His eyes were now a dark shade of red, but he was sure that if he were to think of Riza, they would be bright red.

“And the reason you’re here?”

“Me and Riza are going to Dublith. There’s a vampire who will teach me…vampire stuff.” He replied and explained his aunt the fact that Riza would come to Central the next day so they could leave together.

He was tired and not only because of the lack of fulfilling his thirsty needs. He hadn’t slept the previous night thinking again and again about his vampire training, his new master, Riza, and the list could go on. As it was still early, he decided to take a walk down Central’s streets. The light of the day wasn’t lethal to him, but feeling it against his pale skin didn’t make him feel good either. It was like it was slowly burning him, so he kept walking beneath some trees.

Suddenly, a kid’s cry drew his attention toward a little playground. It looked like he had fallen off the swing and his mother was helping him get up and walk towards the bench.

Roy’s senses sharpened. The kid’s knee was scratched and blood was flowing slowly down his leg. Dammit. Roy turned his head away but the strong scent remained stuck in his nose. He had to move away.

He rushed down the street, faintly hearing the boy’s cry. The thought of blood, the scent of blood, were following him everywhere. There were less than 24 hours till Riza would come, why couldn’t he resist to that urge that now seemed so disgusting to him right now. He stopped his fast pace and sat on a bench to breathe a little.

He sighed and started focusing his attention on other things. The cars that were roaring, the people chatting and the lovely cat that was heading towards him. Good. That cat that was holding a bloody bird in its jaws would totally take his mind away from drinking blood. He stood up and decided to rush back to his aunt’s pub and sleep, realizing that his eyes were probably bright red.

He slammed the door of the pub and went up the stairs saying nothing to his aunt who gave him a confused look. He reached his room down the corridor and opened the door. In another case, the nostalgy of his childhood would have made him linger along the bookshelves or study his old desk, but right now all he wanted was to hug the bed and shut his mind and senses off. He didn’t even change his clothes and let himself fall against the large bed.

He buried his face in the pillow and the next second he was already asleep.

At some point at midnight, he opened his eyes, feeling more tired than before. All he had dreamt about had been Riza’s neck and blood, so now a burning thirst was making his throat hurt like hell. He tried drinking water but it was futile. He felt ridiculous. Maybe…maybe hearing Riza’s voice would help him, he thought, eyeing the phone. But it was freaking midnight…

And anyway she would probably sense that something was wrong with him and would worry in vain. The next thing he did was jumping over the window, in the darkness of the night. It was as if his vampire self was controlling him…he would go crazy if he didn’t drink…

His human side was desperately yelling to hold on. A man that was probably heading towards his aunt’s pub was coming from the opposite direction. When the man passed by him, with an inimaginable speed, he pushed the man onto a sideways alley. He started to scream and tried freeing himself but it was futile when it came to Roy’s vampire strength.

“I am sorry…” Roy murmured pathetically before burying his fangs in the man’s skin and covered his mouth to muffle his screams.

When he was finished he hoped that the man was still alive. He had tried not to drink everything. His thoughts weren’t troubling him anymore nd his vampire and human nature weren’t dwelling. All that troubled him was guilt. Not only because he had indeed turned his aunt’s customer into his dinner, but also because he felt as if he had betrayed Riza. He had fed on a stranger instead of waiting a little more for her. He felt sick all of a sudden and felt the blood he had just drunk coming back. He threw it all out and a strong headache started bothering him. Dammit… the whole world started to turn around him and he had no idea what was happening to him. The next thing he knew was that he fell on the ground. His vision was blurry but noticed the man he had fed on getting up and going away as fast as he could.

“I’m a monster…” Roy told himself as everything was darkening slowly. Before he lost it all, a young woman knelt next to him and pressed a warm palm against his cheek.

“Roy, wake up! What happened?”

Before he could answer to Vanessa, he passed out.

#ROYAI IS CANON #let the darkness fall #young royai #Roy x Riza #Roy Mustang #riza hawkeye #FMA #fmab #royai #royai fanfiction #vampire au

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enthusiastic-sarcastic · 5 years

Text

One Entirely Haphazard Arrangement (Tim Murphy x Reader) [Pt. 1]

A/N: Ok so this is longggg overdue and I apologize for taking so damn long to post this. I think I said I would write this in early July but I just got so caught up in the story and turned it into a whole three part fic...oh yeah, and I sort of moved to college so that took away some of my time 😂 but it’s finally here! I sort of struggled with this one because I haven’t creatively written anything in so long but it was really fun to write and I'm looking forward to writing more in the future! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this silly little friends-to-lovers Tim fic! Parts 2 and 3 will be up within the next few days. Again, sorry if this is trashhh

Words: Roughly 3.9k

Warnings: cursing, stress/anxious habits, cringeee writing?, I guess a Jersey Boys reference if for some reason you resent the jukebox musical or Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

You have always had this infuriating habit of excessively scratching at the back of your hand like a cat attacking a toy laced with catnip whenever you become particularly anxious about the current state of your life.

And working at your newly appointed job as co-director of the art department at the museum has certainly proven to be more than stressful enough over these last eight months.

Whether it has you tumbling out of bed before the sun rises to make sure that that damned office projector is working in time for a 6 o’ clock meeting that your boss decided to throw together at the last minute or facing certain embarrassment upon being woken up by the night-watch guard because of a silly intention to stay after for only a few more minutes to finish editing one of your interns’ research reports, you had completely sacrificed any regard for your own basic health at this point for the sake of your job and its lingering promise of a future promotion.

A promotion that could potentially be awaiting you at the other end of your boss’ door in just under half an hour.

A promotion that could finally lead to the publication of the passion project that you’ve been steadily working on since your early college days.

A promotion that has you relying on old habits again as you scratch at the back of your hand under your cluttered office desk and stare down the hands of the clock on the wall across from you like your life depends on it.

Tick. Tick. Ticking away among the plethora of familiar noises that make up the busy atmosphere of your department. Drowning out the occasional flutter of footsteps stumbling down the hallway or the quiet laughs of your coworkers walking out of yet another dreadful planning session or even the absurdly shrill screeching sound that the copier down the hall likes to make every single time someone dares to use it.

Swiftly swallowing up all signs of life that surround you as your throat starts to feel like it’s closing in on itself and your breathing turns into something that more closely resembles gasping.

You’re just too good to be true...

Can’t take my eyes off of you...

And then so suddenly, a voice breaks through the numbness that has almost paralyzed you and reality starts to bleed back into place—a beacon of hope.

You’d be like heaven to touch...

I wanna hold you so much...

It takes a while for you to place the source of the voice as the all-to-familiar sound of your Jersey Boys ringtone blaring out from your phone across the room, but once you finally bring yourself back into a state of complete clarity, you rush out of your chair and stumble towards the singing object, desperate for a distraction.

Without bothering to glance at the name flashing across the screen, you answer the call and bring the phone up to your ear, eager to listen to whatever will take your mind off of that ticking clock.

“Hello?”

“Uh—Hey (Y/N), it’s Tim…”

A smile instantly rises across your face as you recognize the voice of your cute neighbor, Tim Murphy.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something...I know how busy you’ve been with work lately”

“No—no, it’s fine...you’re fine,” You chime in awkwardly, attempting to reassure him as a familiar fuzzy feeling begins to spread across your entire body.

To say that you had practically fallen hopelessly in love with the paleontologist ever since you accidentally attempted to break into his apartment at 3 a.m. in a half-asleep daze that led you to believe that you weren’t just one door off would be an understatement. That was an embarrassing introduction, to say the least.

“So...what’s up? Is everything alright?” You honestly hadn’t expected Tim to call you at this time of day...or really ever, seeing as how both of your work schedules are so chaotic that you only ever really interact with each other in the dead of the night, so this was a pleasant surprise.

“Yeah, yeah—everything’s great—It’s just...well, I don’t want to startle you or anything but when I got home from work, I found Stevie prancing around outside on my balcony again and—”

Your heart instantly drops into your stomach and you’re suddenly met with the urge to bang your head against a wall from the sudden embarrassment,

“Ah shit! I’m such a clumsy idiot! I probably left my bedroom window open again…”

“No, it’s okay! Don’t worry! Stuff like this happens to everyone. Stevie’s perfectly fine now! I actually just brought her inside my apartment. Poor thing was shivering so I gave her some food and that pretty much cheered her up instantly” Tim chuckles into the phone, causing your cheeks to flush a light shade of pink.

“Oh god, she’s gonna be so mad at me!” You groan as your head begins to feel like it’s spinning from all the guilt and nerves overwhelming you, “I’m so so sorry, Tim. Thanks for rescuing her from my clumsy antics”

“No need to apologize,” Tim laughs again, which doesn’t exactly help with your lightheadedness, “It’s the least I could do. I mean, especially after all those times you’ve looked after my house plants while I was away on a dig”

“You do have a point, Tim Murphy. What would you or your precious house plants ever do without me?” You tease lightly, attempting to calm your nerves, and pulling another angelic laugh from the other end of the phone.

“No, but in all seriousness,” You continue, “I’m going to make it up to you somehow...No ifs, ands, or buts, Murphy!

Tim groans playfully from the other end of the phone and you shake your head with a smirk before a sudden voice cuts through the uneasy silence of your office and the endearing moment abruptly ceases.

“Miss (L/N), Dr. Vaughn has requested that you head down to his office for that meeting now”

You let out another disgruntled sigh before nodding to the kind intern peeking his head through your office doorway,

“Ugh sorry to cut this short, Tim, but I have something kinda important to discuss with my boss right now and I really can’t afford to screw it up...” You trail off with a sigh, not wanting to end the call so soon.

“Oh...alright—yeah...that’s totally fine—I understand...” Tim rambles, sympathy laced within his voice,

“Good luck! I’m sure everything will go smoothly. I believe in you!”

You let out another nervous laugh, your cheeks now entirely red as you take in his words of encouragement, “Thanks for the kind words...and for taking care of Stevie! I’ll stop by to pick her up whenever I get out of this place”

You say your final goodbyes and end the call, shakily placing your phone back down onto your desk before finally making your way towards your boss’ office, scratching at the back of your hand again.

——————————————————————————————————

“I’m sorry...Are you serious?! This has to be some sort of sick joke…right?” You gawk at your boss, your body shaking in aggravation and utter disbelief.

However, he just simply smirks at you and shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as his eyes switch between you and your...colleague.

“Dr. Vaughn, don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?!” You groan in exasperation, shifting your eyes to take a look at your fellow co-director: the one coworker that just so happens to also be your ex.

Yes, your ex, Charles.

The one that abandoned you while you were away on a business trip, moving out of your shared apartment overnight all for his new blonde assistant...cliche and all.

The reason that you’ve worked so hard in this job for the past year of your life.

Not to win him back or follow through with some crude form of revenge—you weren’t at all that type of person.

But to gain back the sense of integrity that he had so swiftly stomped on and finally prove him wrong: to prove to yourself that you are, in fact, good enough.

“I don’t see anything inherently wrong with a little healthy competition, Miss (L/N)”

Your boss speaks up, calmly, the smirk across his face only widening as he looks up at you from his enormous office chair.

“I’m just not particularly fond of the idea that one of us ends up completely jobless by the end of this!”

“Oh please, (Y/N), calm down”

Charles finally speaks up from beside you, causing you to roll your eyes and dig your fingernails into your palms from the sheer rage that now seemed to be pulsating throughout your entire being,

“I’m sure whoever gets the short end of the stick in this...arrangement can always turn to the other for a raving recommendation letter after they track down and apply to whatever museum establishment that’s desperate enough to hire them after this”

The shared dark laughter that escapes the both of them at his sad attempt to reassure you only makes your stomach curl in disgust. How can he just be okay with all of this?

“Honestly, all you have to do is write an introductory speech that addresses the latest contemporary art exhibition for the museum’s annual winter gala next Saturday. That gives you both the same amount of time to prepare your material and secure dates for the event, so I think this whole competition sounds pretty fair to me”

“But Dr. Vaughn—“

Your boss abruptly cuts you off, again, “I will allow you both five minutes. Mr. Sterling, you’ll go first before introducing your fellow co-director to the stage, then Miss (L/N) will give her speech before calling me up to the stage. Whoever gives the best speech in reference to the new exhibition will be promoted to head director of this museum’s contemporary art department...and the other will unfortunately be let go from their current position”

You let out an aggravated sigh, which prompts Charles to smirk in your direction,

“And that’s final! Now, get the hell out of my office!”

——————————————————————————————————

The journey home couldn’t have been more painstakingly difficult.

First, you missed your usual train and had to wait a whole 45 minutes for the next one. Then, it began to rain as soon as you started walking down the street towards your apartment and just as your doorman graciously greeted your shaking figure as you scurried into the building, you remembered that the stack of paperwork that you had planned to finish up was locked away...in your desk...back at the museum.

And now, as you trudge down the hallway of your apartment floor, soaked head to toe from the rain, your heart begins to race as you make your way in front of Tim Murphy’s door and muster up the courage to knock.

It only takes a few minutes for the door to open, but once it finally does, you’re met with the sight of an adorable, half-asleep paleontologist that makes you feel like you could melt into the floor at any given moment.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming”

You chuckle halfheartedly at him, a tired smile making its way across your face regardless of the pounding sensation in your head and the ringing sounds in your ears. Tim always seems to have that effect on you.

“Sorry, I had a long day” You mutter, cheekily.

Tim hums amusedly before moving to the side to let you in,

“I was fully prepared to take Stevie in as my own, actually. I have an extra cat bed and everything. I’m sure she’d get along just fine with Lydia”

You enter the apartment and spot your beloved cat sleeping cozily under the breakfast table near the kitchen, curled up right next to Tim’s orange tabby.

You smile at the sight, taking your wet shoes off before plopping down onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter, exhausted.

“Honestly, you make a better parent than I could ever be” You chuckle, glancing towards Tim as he sets down a glass of water in front of you. His disheveled hair and slightly pouting mouth causes a blush to grow across your cheeks again as you’re reminded of something,

“Sorry if my late arrival woke you up”

He shakes his head at you, a sleepy smile spreading across his face,

“It’s okay, I wasn’t exactly...asleep. I had to finish up some last minute research in preparation for an excavation in Arizona next week”

Next week. Fuck.

You chug the water in front of you, abruptly, before placing the cup back down onto the counter and burying your face into your hands. Your mind spiraling with thoughts about the impending winter gala and him.

“So...I’m assuming that that conversation with your boss didn’t go over very well”

You groan in acknowledgement, before glancing back up at the attentive paleontologist,

“You could say that,” You laugh, sarcastically, “Hell, I may not even have a job by the time next week rolls around”

This seems to get Tim’s attention, because he leans closer to you from the other side of the kitchen counter and your breath hitches in your throat when you notice the way his biceps flex from underneath his sweatshirt.

“Well now you have to tell me what happened” He exclaims, with a tone of genuine curiosity.

You almost can’t formulate a response when you realize just how close your hands are from each other, so you muster out a weak cough and casually begin to play with the empty glass in front of you.

It’s just a hand, (Y/N). Just a nice, particularly soft-looking hand that just so happens to belong to your incredibly brilliant and handsome neighbor, Tim Murphy. Calm down.

“Well, my boss has always been one to enjoy watching people suffer before rewarding them” You sigh in frustration as you recall the last few hours of your day,

“I thought I was walking into his office to finally receive the promotion that I’ve been working day and night over for the last eight months,” You continue, running a finger across the rim of the glass repeatedly, as anxiety starts to rise within your chest again,

“And I suppose my suspicions were right” You chuckle, sadly, “but he ended up making the so-called promotion a competition between my ex and I”

You bite your lip in frustration, the wounds inflicted from the previous conversation still fresh on your mind.

“Wait—you’re not talking about…” Tim trails off in disbelief and you nod your head in confirmation.

Tim Murphy was well acquainted with the sheer emotional damage that Charles had put you through. In fact, after the break-up, it was Tim that so graciously convinced you to get the hell out of bed and resume the rest of your life after coming over to your apartment due to another mail mix-up. While you took a well-needed shower, Tim prepared a nice spaghetti dinner and put on some comedy show for the both of you to watch aimlessly as you attempted to catch up on what the rest of the world was doing after it had seemingly crashed all around you. That night definitely didn’t do anything to alleviate your growing feelings for him.

“Wow” His head tilts in slight surprise, “That’s so unfair!”

“Right! That’s exactly what I said to my boss but he wasn’t having any of it” You scoff as you recall the aggravating image of your boss’ smirking face.

“And now I have to work my ass off trying to write a decent introduction speech commemorating our latest exhibition for the winter gala. Oh! And I have to find a date to the stupid thing with only a weeks notice! Where in the world am I going to find a date to this event with only a weeks notice in this city!?”

You were starting to freak out now, pulling on some strands of damp hair that you had somehow managed to wrap entirely around your fingers as you tried to make sense of your unfortunate predicament.

“I could be your date.”

The words fall from Tim’s mouth so abruptly and effortlessly that it takes a few seconds for you to register their meaning.

“What?”

“Well...I think I still have a nice suit lying around here somewhere from my last work event. Plus, I’ve been to my fair share of museum galas, so it won’t be much of a hassle. I could be your date.”

“Tim, you really don’t have to do this! I mean—What about the excavation to Arizona? You can’t miss out on that! I would feel so bad if I made you miss out on that trip all because of this stupid arrangement” You’re blushing now at his offer and suddenly the wall next to his head is very captivating.

“When exactly is this winter gala anyways?”

“Saturday at 6 p.m.”

A smug, satisfied grin stretches across Tim’s face as he leans even closer to you and the redness across your cheeks grows when your eyes meet,

“I get back Friday night. It’ll be fine.”

You sigh in guilt, not wanting to overstep, “Are you absolutely certain about this? I guarantee you’ll be exhausted once you get back and I don’t wanna drag you into another tedious social event right after a week of strenuous excavation work”

“I mean if you want me to memorize some cue cards, I’m all for that...but I think I have enough experience under my belt from high school theatre group to properly wing it”

You chuckle at his lame attempt to humor you, but your resolve remains undeterred,

“And you’re 100% positive that you’re okay with staying by my side all night, in formal dress attire, chatting up a storm with just about any and most likely all of my colleagues over strictly art related stuff? It’s an exhausting experience.”

Tim shrugs his shoulders, the amused, stubborn grin never leaving his face,

“Like I said before, I go to museum galas all the time, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

You let out another exasperated sigh in defeat, standing up from your stool at the counter and walking towards the fridge to fill your glass again. A shiver runs down your spine and you want to blame the wet nature of your clothes but you know from the shakiness of your fingers carrying the glass and the heat radiating off your cheeks that it’s because of the close proximity between Tim’s face and yours just moments ago.

“Fine. You can be my date. But I seriously cannot thank you enough for what you’re doing for me, Tim Murphy. I really have done nothing but complain to you all evening and now you’re swooping in and saving my ass again. What—Do I have to sell you my soul this time to properly repay my debt?”

Tim chuckles, turning around to look at you again.

“Luckily for you, I’m feeling generous enough to let you keep your soul for just a little while longer. But seriously, don’t feel pressured to repay me.”

You open your mouth to protest but the words are silenced by the sound of thunder rumbling from just outside the apartment, shaking the floor beneath your feet.

“Shit! I completely forgot that it’s raining,” Tim gestures towards your clothes, his eyes wide with concern, “You must be freezing!”

You blush again as you glance down towards your damp clothes, “Oh no! It’s fine, I sort of forgot about it too...I’m not—”

You trail off when you realize that Tim is no longer standing right in front of you, only to hear the sound of him rummaging through his laundry machine.

You grin widely as you’re reminded of just how insistently kind and compassionate he can be.

He sort of stumbles back into the kitchen from a clumsy attempt at speed-walking, and before you realize it, he’s wrapping a warm bath towel around your shoulders and rubbing the material up and down your arms to help you dry off.

The grin on your face only widens and you lock your eyes onto the floor, hoping to hide the now stark red state of your blushing cheeks.

“Jeez, Tim, you really didn’t have to go through all that trouble, but thanks” You mumble, trying to keep yourself composed.

Tim only laughs in exasperation at your comment, “What kind of host would I be if I let you freeze to death?”

You glance back up at him, attempting to ignore the way that your breath hitches when you notice the close proximity of your faces again,

“Well...technically I forced you to invite me when I stupidly left my bedroom window open this morning…” You trail off when Tim gives you a pointed look, as if to say: You’re always welcome here, regardless of the circumstances.

Your gaze drops to the floor again as another rumble of thunder shakes the whole apartment, and the grin returns to your face when you make out the smallest detail of a mini brachiosaurus on the bath towel,

“Why am I not surprised that you have your own personalized dino bath towels, Tim Murphy”

He laughs bashfully and you glance up to take in the sight. His eyes meet yours and you smile back at each other for what feels like a lifetime, your heart pounding in your chest as the space between the two of you almost seems to get smaller and smaller until...you’re interrupted by the feeling of something fluffy brushing across your feet and the familiar purring sound of your cat, Stevie.

“I should probably go. You need your rest and I need to get started on the first draft of my speech. I gotta get a head start on that asshole, at the very least.”

Tim chuckles understandably and the towel leaves your shoulders, taking the warmth that had so swiftly flooded your body with it.

“Yeah, you’re probably right, I should go to bed and you should start writing a very important introduction speech at one in the morning”

Your eyes widen and Stevie lets out another loud purring noise, as if amused by your blatant clumsiness,

“What the fuck?! I swear it was just 11:30”

Tim only shrugs again in amusement and you promptly lean down to scoop up your cat from the ground in an attempt to hide the blush that seemed to now be permanently etched across your cheeks, desperate for a chance to leave before you could embarrass yourself any further.

“Thanks again, Tim...for everything! I guess I’ll see you next weekend...” You mumble out the words quickly, flashing Tim an awkward smile as you put your slightly damp shoes back onto your feet.

“(Y/N)...”

“Oh right, and good luck with your Arizona excavation...I just know you’ll discover something truly spectacular this time!” You’re shuffling towards the front door now, silently praying that the sound of your heart pounding against your chest isn’t loud enough for Tim to hear.

“Thanks, I’ll see-”

But you don't even let him finish before you promptly shut the door behind you, feeling equally elated as you do terrified about the week ahead of you and the absurdity of this entirely haphazard arrangement.

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vatrixsta · 5 years

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How Long Will I Love You (1/2)

PRESTO! @the-corsair-and-her-quill IT IS I, YOUR SECRET SANTA! It was so, so fun stalking getting to know you over the last few weeks! Because you do not love Christmas in a traditional, cheesy way, I have written you an angsty CS AU Emma who is having trouble with her husband. Yes, it’s very cheery :D Hopefully I’ve read the room right when it comes to your tastes and preferences and I REALLY REALLY hope you enjoy it!!

I’ve tried to leave the first part in an okay place, but I’m hoping to finish it off for you by the weekend at the latest. Yes, it’s the gift that unfortunately keeps on giving!

Man, I really thought I could write this little angst bomb as a one shot, but I very much underestimated my own desire to torture poor Emma. This will be up on AO3 after I’ve... slept. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

How Long Will I Love you (1/2)

xxx

Emma Swan-Jones was absolutely positive of one thing: her husband was hiding something.

Killian was not the secretive type. He’d worn his heart on his sleeve as long as she’d known him, something that had caused them both a great deal of frustration early on in their courtship. Emma had been jaded single mother just trying to keep her and Henry’s head above water and Killian… well, he’d just been so steadfast, so sure right from the start that it had freaked her out a little. The fact that he was Henry’s favorite author? That had definitely made his job of winning her heart a hell of a lot harder.

So yes, she’d been the one pulling away, doubting, constantly testing him for the first few months of their relationship, something she felt bad about later but honestly couldn’t imagine any other way. Her walls had been sky high after, you know, her whole fucking life, being abandoned, foster care, all the people who made it clear they never wanted her and no one ever really would - then fucking Neal and prison and Henry was the only good thing she got out of all that - no way would she get a charming British rogue who spent his free time writing children’s stories about a skewed take on Peter Pan. No, that was not for her, no matter how much he tried to convince her that she and Henry were all he wanted.

Except… he had. They built a life together. They got married. They moved around for a long time, three nomads looking for a place to plant roots as Emma’s work took her wherever the leads did and Henry was all too happy to continue home study and Killian could write from anywhere. He let her read his first drafts and she let him read over her shoulder when she was researching her skips. He was constantly challenging her and annoying her and being the best stepdad to Henry and just… he wasn’t perfect, but he also kind of was? She could barely remember what life was like before their twosome became three; didn’t really want to remember. It felt like they’d always been together, the three of them, with Killian in charge of steering the ship, emotionally speaking.

Maybe that was the real problem. Emma had gotten used Killian always being the grown up in the relationship and now that he was taking up the part of the sullen, moody teenager who lied to her face when she asked him what was wrong, she didn’t know how to deal with it.

Hadn’t he read the contract between them? She was the moody teenager in the relationship, at least for a few more years, before Henry turned into an actual moody teenager.

This had to stop. She was going to stop it. Be the bigger person. Not fall back on decades of rejection and shitty emotional behavior and lose the nerve to force him to talk to her.

….

So yeah, she totally lost the nerve. Killian was sitting in the office, broodily staring at a blank computer screen and she tried to use the perfect opening.

“Hey. Are the pages not cooperating?”

It was smooth. She actually thought about it before she said it, not at all typical Emma behavior. She’d asked him about his writing before, when it seemed like he was in a bit of a funk and he’d always use the opportunity to escape for awhile, maybe take Henry to a movie or, if they were near water, to look at the boats by the harbor. Sometimes he’d compliment her - all, your boy’s a marvel, Swan, nothing like a trip to the pier with the little spitfire to knock a spot of writer’s block into the dust. Over time, it became our boy and her heart clenched with how easily the word rolled off his tongue and hers.

So his response today was somewhat underwhelming.

“What?” he asked, distracted, moody, dare she say - a bit twitchy.

Emma’s eyes narrowed. Every hackle she has was rising. But this was her husband. She trusted him. She loved him, completely. So he was having an off week. She’d had her share of them and he bore them with grace. She was not going to interrogate him like a suspect.

“Let’s go out to dinner,” she said, trying to be positive. Henry was at a sleepover and maybe he was feeling like she was - a little out of sorts without their favorite playmate. She would ignore the fact that this behavior had been going on for weeks, pretty much, she realized, since they’d settled down in Boston. “Somewhere nice, with tablecloths where you can get handsy while we overpay for whatever’s labeled market price.”

Seafood and groping - two of her husband’s favorite treats. But when his eyes flickered, it wasn’t with the normal interest and good humor she expected. If she had to name the emotion that flashed behind those blue, blue eyes of his, a split second before his whole face shuttered to a neutral expression, she’d call it guilt. Maybe even a pinch of despair.

“I’m sorry, Swan,” he said, definitely looking sorry, but not in a way she liked, “I should really keep plugging away at this.” He gestured at the keyboard with his prosthetic hand, the right scratching at the back of his neck like he had a rash.

“Yeah. Me too. I’ll make us some pasta then,” she mumbled, tucking down how much his rejection and the fact that he was lying to her hurt.

She fled to the kitchen and threw together a simple dinner neither of them really touched. He escaped back to his office as soon as he could and she went to bed early, wondering what the hell was going on with the man she married.

~~~

Henry returned from his sleepover late the next day and since it was Sunday, he reminded Killian they were supposed to check out the docks, an activity they hadn’t had time for since they moved to town. Boston was both big and small and getting to specific parts of the city sometimes took a huge chunk of time unless you were on foot. That was why they’d splurged on an apartment that was pricey but perfect and if you squinted, just within their budget - Killian had a great nest egg from the book sales and would receive an advance as soon as he’d finished the first three chapters of his next book. Emma had been saving from the moment she graduated from waiting tables to bail bonds and their combined good financial habits had secured them three bedrooms, a top floor and a glorious view of the water.

“It’ll be perfect, Swan,” Killian had said while they were still living from rental to rental. “Our first little hideaway by the sea until you retire and we can live somewhere much quieter, with fewer bail jumpers needing your always pertinent attention.”

That was back when he was still sweet talking her like usual. God, she hoped his outing with Henry would help him settle. He was always calmer by the water and the view aside, she knew he wasn’t satisfied until he’d gotten a good lungful of salt air.

She bided her time while they were out by doing laundry. Every time she passed the office - they shared it, but since his work dictated a quiet space a lot more than hers did, it was mostly Killian’s domain - she had to fight off the knee jerk urge she had to go snooping on his computer for answers. The doubt that was beginning to live in her breastbone was making it hard to remember how much she trusted Killian, like she’d never trusted anyone in her life.

The urge to snoop was definitely going to get the better of her if she stayed in the apartment, so Emma quickly bundled up and grabbed her wallet and keys. They were out of eggs and a few other essentials. Besides, it was six weeks ‘til Christmas and with all the moving drama she hadn’t bought anything for Henry or Killian. She could at least do some in person recon before she came home and ordered them stuff online.

She was putting away groceries when the apartment door banged shut.

“Hey Kid,” she greeted Henry, noticing the lack of anyone else behind him. “Where’s Killian?”

“He said he had an errand,” Henry huffed into the kitchen and noted Killian’s behavior with his usual tact and charm. “What crawled up his butt?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “We were having a good time, we got ice cream and he was telling me about ships and Liam and it reminded me about my ancestry project for school. I asked him about his parents and he reminded me - as if I didn’t know - that he isn’t my biological father. We kind of… had a fight. He was trying to talk to me about him.”

Emma paused with the Eggos halfway to the freezer. Him. That was how Henry had referred to Neal since he was old enough to understand their history. Emma had no idea why Killian was suddenly bringing the subject up - as far as she knew, his feelings about Neal mirrored her own: if she ever ran into him in a dark alley, she’d at least bloody her knuckles on some part of his face.

“Maybe Killian was just trying to make sure you didn’t want to talk about him,” Emma offered. “I haven’t exactly done the best job of keeping you a neutral third party where he’s concerned. It would be… normal… if you were curious about your dad.” The words were like ash on her tongue, but she forced them out, mentally awarding herself ten points for Gryffindor.

Henry made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “After what he did to you? I don’t care about him. He’s not my dad. Killian’s…” He looked down and Emma was horrified to see tears in his eyes. “I thought Killian… I guess I was wrong.”

“Hey.” Emma put her hand on Henry’s chin and pulled his head up to meet her eyes. “Killian would take a bullet for you, kid. Whatever is going on with him - it is not about you and it is not about how much he loves you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Henry mumbled, eyes still downcast. “Can I play Xbox until dinner?”

Sighing, Emma forced her stiff little boy into an embrace and kissed his forehead soundly. “Yeah. Play something nice and violent.”

He nodded against her side then trudged into his room. Emma pursed her lips.

Fuck it. She was snooping on his computer. Henry was upset by whatever the hell was wrong with him and she was done being the mature adult. Ten points from Gryffindor - maybe she’d always belonged in Slytherin after all.

xxx

All Emma got out of snooping through Killian’s laptop was a recipe for buttered rum and a knot of guilt in her stomach. His browser history was weeks old, like he hadn’t searched for anything; she even tried all the tricks she knew to find hidden tracks on a laptop - he’d really done nothing on it since before they’d moved to Boston and that included working on the new book.

Maybe his odd behavior really was as simple as an intense case of writer’s block. Maybe he was afraid to tell her, because they’d gotten this fancy apartment and with the bail bonds trade usually drying up a bit after the holidays, they’d be counting on his advance once he delivered his publisher the detailed synopsis.

Abandoning her shitty, mistrustful wife plan, Emma headed back to the kitchen (it was possible she’d left the ice cream out to melt) but stopped when she heard not the sounds of violent bloody gore, but quiet voices coming from Henry’s bedroom.

“It’s fine,” Henry was saying in a tone that clearly indicated it was anything but.

“It’s really not,” Killian said and Emma leaned against the wall that kept her out of their line of sight but made eavesdropping on Henry’s room much easier. Hey, the view wasn’t the only reason she’d been eager for this apartment.

“I just… I guess I thought… we were a family,” Henry said, sounding so vulnerable Emma wanted to hug him and hurt Killian a little for making him sound that way.

“Henry… lad.” Then Killian sounded just as lost, just as broken, and Emma just wanted to wrap her arms around them both. “The love I have for you and your mother outweighs all the grains of sand in this or any other realm. Never doubt that.”

“Then why did you bring him up?” Henry asked. “I don’t want to do my ancestry project about him. I can’t ask Mom, because she doesn’t know who her parents are. I know yours are gone, but you knew them at least. I still want to do my project about my family.”

Killian took a deep breath. She knew well the sound of air filling his lungs from a thousand nights falling asleep with her ear pressed to his chest, a thousand moments sat across from him as he prepared himself to say something sappy or meaningful or cheeky.

“My father’s name was Brennan and my mother’s name was Alice. They married young -- too young, it turns out. He was a bastard and she would have adored spoiling you, her first grandchild, young master Henry.”

Emma bit her lip hard to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. Her boys kept speaking to one another, Henry asking questions, then telling Killian to wait, he had to write this down, and Killian detailing as much of his history as he could - the small English village he was born into, the Jones line before him (he’d never known his grandparents and unfortunately couldn’t be of much help further back, but he did delight Henry by informing him they were rumored to be descended from the Davey Jones) and any other detail that came to mind. Emma was pretty sure he was making at least some of it up, but it was a fifth grade ancestry project and she’d punch any teacher who gave Henry less than an A for the yarn he was about to spin.

Deciding she’d had enough of this emotional roller coaster, Emma spent some time researching a skip - he was slippery and she might have to go out of town for a few days to nab him. With Killian and Henry on an even keel, she felt a lot better about the prospect.

A solid hour of research confirmed her suspicion - Travis the douchebag had fled to Rhode Island and was stupid enough to still be using his own credit cards. He had also already set up a new Tinder profile. Emma would drive the Bug to the most recent hit she had on his card and let the tight red dress on her Tinder profile do the rest of the location job for her.

She’d leave in the morning. She wanted to spend the night with her boys first.

They were still in Henry’s room, though ancestry talk had morphed into the video game Killian hated playing the least, something with knights and quests. They were spread out on Henry’s small full bed and Emma took a flying leap between them, forcing them to either dive out of the way and lose a life or accept her full weight.

Naturally they both took the hit, their characters living to fight another day.

“Oi! Swan,” Killian complained.

“Jesus, Mom,” Henry added, sounding much more parental than she ever did.

“Third controller,” she demanded.

Henry hooked the wire with his foot and launched it at her. She caught it easily and entered the game when it let her. Every time she did something Killian or Henry couldn’t, she elbowed them until Killian finally called for a mutiny. He and Henry ganged up on her, assaulting her with tickling fingers and raspberries, the game abandoned and Emma feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

xxx

“I have to go to Rhode Island tomorrow,” Emma said later that night after they’d settled into bed. Killian seemed to be keeping a little more distance between them than was customary and he was also wearing his prosthetic to bed, which he never did.

“Hmm?” Killian responded, irking her because apparently he wasn’t even listening to her.

“I’m going away tomorrow,” she repeated, turning on her side to face him. He was staring at the ceiling, the black t-shirt he wore getting in the way of her favorite pillow, his chest hair. Come to think of it, he’d been withholding her favorite pillow for awhile now. She’d been so exhausted by the move that she’d basically fallen asleep as soon as her head hit an actual pillow.

He finally turned to face her. “Where are you going?”

“Rhode Island,” she repeated. “I’ve got a hit on a skip. It’ll be a nice payday for the holidays.”

“That’s good,” he said, nodding a bit, mostly to himself, it seemed.

“I’ll be gone a few days, most likely,” she added, frowning when he just nodded again. “I’ll miss you, too,” she said sarcastically, before turning her back on him, half curling into a ball of confused anger and sadness.

“Swan,” he muttered.

“Save it,” she said. “If you’re not going to tell me the truth, I don’t want to hear it.”

Several moments passed, so many that she really thought he was going to remain silent. Then, so quietly she might have missed it if she hadn’t been listening so carefully, he spoke.

“Have you ever woken up one morning and felt like an utter fraud?” he asked.

Her frown deepened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked. “Is this about the book?”

“I wish it were about the bloody book, Swan,” he muttered, his his breath close enough that she could feel it puffing against the bare skin of her shoulder. “Just go to sleep.”

“Killian--”

“You’re leaving in the morning, in that deathtrap of yours - I’d like you to be rested before you get on the road. It’s an icy drive this time of year.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her back against him and she rested her head against his other arm. He was still keeping her at a distance, but she could feel his concern, his affection, even through such a strange distance. Her mind replayed his declaration to Henry, the passion and conviction in his voice as he’d vowed his love for them both. He hadn’t been lying.

Why the hell would her husband think he was a fraud?

xxx

Emma debated bailing on the trip, but forcing Killian to talk when he clearly wasn’t ready to had never lead anywhere good. So she kissed him and Henry both on the forehead, made them promise to text her updates while she was gone and headed out. Killian had gotten up earlier than she had to make sure the snow chains were on the Bug’s tires and he’d filled the tank up with gas, something she routinely forgot to do until she was already on the road.

Her first night in Rhode Island, Emma logged onto her fake Tinder profile, the one that let her breasts and a tight red dress do all the advertising necessary to pick up any creep in a fifty mile radius. It only took about a hundred left swipes for her mark to pop up and she reluctantly swiped right.

Henry’s text (a picture of the breakfast Killian made him and a row of sad face emojis) interrupted her briefly; she replied that egg whites and salmon were good for a growing boy. Killian’s text (a simple “The boy’s been fed well and sent off to school; come home safe, Swan”) intensified that ache in her chest and she fired off a quick heart emoji in reply. If she started actually texting words, she was afraid word vomit would soon follow and she needed to concentrate on nabbing this dirtbag.

Her skip was laughingly easy to lure but not so seamless to capture. They scuffled outside the restaurant, Emma tackling and handcuffing the guy after a graceless fall sent them both to the icy ground. It was only after she’d handed him off to local law enforcement that she noticed how badly she scraped up her wrist. She rinsed it off in the motel bathroom, but immediately changed into traveling clothes. It was late, but there wouldn’t be traffic at this hour and she’d be home, in bed with her husband, in less than ninety minutes.

Unfortunately, being alone with her thoughts on a long drive and no case to think about meant Emma had little to do but consider Killian’s odd behavior.

When she added it all up - attempting to remind Henry they weren’t actually father and son, the guilt in his eyes, the disinterest in sex, feeling like a fraud - her stomach clenched at the most obvious conclusion: Killian was cheating on her.

Maybe it wasn’t physical. Maybe it was only one time and he didn’t know how to confess. Maybe he had fallen in love with someone else and felt guilty about wanting to leave them. Leave her. Maybe he was only staying for Henry. Maybe he just didn’t know how to tell her he’d made a mistake by marrying her, the same mistake her first foster family had made by wanting to adopt her, only to send her back when she was three.

Emma’s wrist was starting to ache as much as it stung and she worried it might be sprained on top of the scraping. Her vision was also getting blurry, which meant she was probably crying and that always pissed her off, so she used her injured hand to angrily wipe her eyes clear.

If Killian had decided she wasn’t enough, that he wanted something else - that was fine. It would hurt Henry, but they could survive. They were just fine when it was the two of them and they could be a family of two again.

Something hollow started forming in her chest at the thought of no more Killian - no more sullen hours trying to get the words right only to emerge victorious and tumble her into bed to celebrate, no more healthy breakfasts to send them off for the day with ‘vim and vigor,’ no more grown up in the house, no more feeling safe with someone, no more forgetting what it felt like to be a lonely, unwanted little ugly duckling again.

Fucking tears. She was going to get into an accident if she didn’t get a grip on her emotions, but it was impossible when it felt like her whole world was caving in on itself. Killian didn’t lie to her. If he was lying now, it meant… it had to mean something bad, given how long it had gone on, given all the other signs. She wouldn’t be able to make it another night wondering about this. As soon as she got home, she was ripping off the Band-Aid - even if it took several layers of skin with it.

She made a lot of noise coming in the front door, kicking her boots off and leaving them in a messy, wet heap just inside, the way Killian hated. She draped her coat over a chair and caught a look at herself in the mirror by the door - her makeup had run due to all the crying (waterproof my ass) and her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, which just made her face look even more gaunt.

“You’re home early.” Killian’s soft voice drifted from the living room and her shoulders hunched in on themselves at the sound of it. The sound of his feet encased in those warm, fuzzy socks Henry loved brought him closer. “Did you get your man?”

Emma turned to look at him and wanted to cry even harder. He was wearing a soft black sweater, one of the many new items they’d purchased for the frigid Boston weather. The dark color made his eyes look even bluer, or maybe that was all the lights she’d just noticed he and Henry must have hung up while she was gone, their whole apartment transformed into a cozy winter wonderland. Like a real family lived here. Like he was planning to stick around until Christmas.

She felt fucking crazy.

“You're hurt,” he said, eyes obviously ticking over her to figure out what was causing her mental breakdown. He moved quickly, his right hand pushing a piece of hair that had escaped her punishing ponytail back behind her ear, thumb skimming over her cheek to trace the black tear track that made it all the more obvious she’d been crying. His eyes were still moving over her face furiously and when he realized she hadn’t been punched or visibly concussed (wouldn’t be the first time) he started scanning the rest of her.

His ex-naval captain’s eagle eye narrowed in on her wrist in a snap and her hand was soon cradled between his right and his prosthetic. He made a tsking sound (chastising her for using water as a disinfectant again) and leaned forward to kiss her forehead, the way he always did when she was hurting. The tears came again but she didn’t try to fight them. He made soft shushing sounds and cradled her hand against his chest protectively, letting her cry it out for a few minutes before gently ushering her into the bathroom.

Emma sat on the sink so he wouldn’t have to crouch and Killian pulled the Neosporin out of the medicine cabinet. He used his teeth to open the bottle then curled her hand over his prosthetic to hold her still. Carefully, he applied the disinfectant, knowing how prone she was to kicking when something stung her. Once he’d gotten a good, thick layer applied, he reached for the gauze.

“Do you think it’s sprained as well?” he asked.

She nodded, unable to make her vocal cords worked and he fetched an ace bandage from the emergency room drawer as well.

“You should get an X-Ray,” he said.

“Maybe,” she agreed, her voice sounding like she’d been crying over a half broken heart for the last hour.

They both knew she wasn’t going to get an X-Ray, but she really, really loved him for worrying about her.

“This is how we met,” she said quietly as he leaned forward, using his teeth to hold one end of the gauze so his right hand could smooth it down.

His gaze snapped up to hers, a wary look in them, and her eyebrows scrunched together. “Remember? My timeless grace?”

If he didn’t even remember how they met, he wouldn’t have to leave her - she was going to kill him.

Killian blinked and nodded slowly, as if the memory was replaying in his mind. He cleared his throat before speaking. “You were carrying drinks for you and Henry. Slipped on a patch of ice. Tore your palm up.”

“You bandaged it with your scarf and tied one end with your mouth. Very ballsy for a total stranger,” she added with an affectionate nudge to his hip with her knee.

“I’m nothing if not bold,” he agreed.

“I never even saw you coming,” she confided. “All those walls and that cynicism and keeping everyone out and I never even saw you coming. I wanted to run so far and so fast from you and I still wanted to jump your bones.”

He scoffed. “You thought I was annoying. And possibly a stalker.”

“I still wanted to jump your bones,” she said. They shared a laugh, but she sobered fast. “I know I did run away after that. I know I… didn’t make it easy.”

Was that it? Was she still more difficult than she thought? Emma thought she’d gotten better at letting him in, that she’d let him all the way in, but maybe… maybe he just got tired of it. Of her. Everyone did eventually, everyone but Henry.

“Emma… I don’t like easy,” he said with that grave tone he sometimes got when he wanted to make sure she understood him. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. You have always been worth the fight of my life, darling. Always.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, a soft, reverent thing that made her cry again. He brought her bandaged hand to his mouth, kissed the back of it, her palm, her wrist, the patch of skin on her forearm left bare from his first aid work.

“Do… do I need to fight for you?” she asked, the quiet, scared question nothing like the rage she’d planned to unleash on him during her drive. Funny how Killian being Killian could disarm her in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, luv,” Killian muttered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I have been yours from the moment we met. It just took me a little while to realize it. You’ve done nothing wrong, Emma. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been… I’ll be better.”

“I don’t need you to be better. I need you to be you. I need you to want to be here.”

“I do,” he vowed and that was exactly what it was: a vow. “There is nowhere else for me but by your side, Swan.”

“You’re confusing me,” she whispered, like it was a secret.

“I’m confusing me,” he assured her. “Please just… give me a little time? To figure a few things out?”

Emma sighed. It wasn’t the resolution she wanted, but she felt oddly lighter. They hadn’t talked about anything specific, but already her earlier fears felt ridiculous. Most of them, anyway. At least he wasn’t pretending things were fine - he’d given her months of space to realize she was in love with him in the beginning. She could give him a few weeks now, to figure out whatever was going on in that ridiculously attractive head of his.

“You’ve got four weeks ‘til Christmas,” she grumbled. “I want my husband front and center by then, got it, buddy?”

So she wasn’t nearly as patient or understanding as he was. He knew what he was getting into.

His grin at her words indicated that he did and that he still found her rather charming.

She could live with that. For now.

#csss #cssecretsanta2k18 #@cssecretsanta2k18 #captain swan #my fic stuff #cs fic #how long will i love you #MERRY CHRISTMAS

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planettaeil · 7 years

Text

Title: The 7th Recruit

Title: The 7th Recruit Type: Smuttish (???) Agent!Ten AU Characters: Reader X Ten Warning(s): mild language, MENTION OF VIOLENCE! Word Count: 3, 417 (wow i got carried away)

A/N: I had so much fun writing this one 😄 I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Summary: There’s only one spot left. Are you gonna get it or is this dangerously handsome man gonna destroy you?

“I heard that they’re looking for the 7th recruit,” your roommate, Kim Doyoung, nonchalantly blurted out as he continued cleaning the sharp knives in his collection, carefully looking for any prints and meticulously wiping it with the cloth. You ran to the living room to where he was comfortably sitting and knelt down beside him.

“Holy shit are you talking about the The Gunpoint?” You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice as you shook Doyoung’s arms, obviously too impatient to wait for an answer. In result, Doyoung accidentally cut his finger, in which resulted to him growling in pain, and you carefully unlatched your grip.

“Oops.”

With a glare, he drop the knife and went to the bathroom to get the kit. You followed him around, obviously too preoccupied to care about the small cut. “Come on, what about the recruitment?”

“Can you not? I worked so hard not to get another scar on my hand,” he immediately clean the cut and you rolled your eyes.

“Stop overreacting. You won’t die from that tiny scratch,” you sat beside him on the couch and took the golden knife and cloth to help him clean it. “But seriously what do you mean about The Gunpoint looking for the 7th recruit? I thought the examinations were over?”

“Oh, the examinations that you failed last month?” He teased with a smug look on his face and you fought the urge to smash his face in. It was true that you tried out for the examinations last month but unfortunately, you failed to succeed the last task and your dream of becoming an agent of the best secret agent group out there now looked like something you won’t ever achieve.

Their examinations in choosing seven new recruits were pretty intense for someone who just started from an unknown group like you. You knew it was such a big jump to apply at The Gunpoint when you barely started in a small group in your town but dreaming big won’t cost you anything. You knew you had to try and live the life you’ve been dreaming of since you were a child.

The Gunpoint is not your usual group that simply spies or threaten people whom their clients wants to scare. They only work for the biggest international organizations and even the government, and will do anything even if it involves killing someone involved in a serious crime.

Even though they do jobs that are out of this world, they only limit themselves into something that involves serious crimes and threats to the government or huge companies. They don’t do small favours for petty threats to innocent people.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or should I punch you in the face?”

“Geez. You’re being so violent nowadays,” Doyoung faked a shudder and snatched his collection from you. “Not sure about the entire details tho but all I know is that the 7th recruit was a spy from the rival group. The boss was so furious when the 5th recruit found out and reported it to him but hey, at least he didn’t kill him.”

“Where’s the 7th recruit then?”

“I believe he’s in the interrogation room,” you nodded. Lucky bastard.

“And the head informed me that the 5 other applicants who didn’t succeed last time are given the chance to take the vacant spot. And as for you, you better prepare yourself for the new tests that you’re going to face again,” he flicked your forehead and stood up to go to his room.

You saw a knife that fell from his box earlier and a wild idea came to your mind. “Hey, Doyoung!” You called, throwing the knife to his direction, originally aiming for his head.

As expected, he was quick to dodge it and the sharp object hit the cemented wall and fell to the ground.

“Wow, you’re still fast! This is why you’re my role model!” You slowly clapped and he just rolled his eyes and left, completely not bothered by the fact that you just threw a knife to him.

Doyoung was the 3rd recruit from the previous batch and you practically looked up to him even though you both started at the same time in the same small group from your hometown. He managed to snaked his way to The Gunpoint a year ago and you were seriously so eager to enter it now that you’re given the chance to take it.

Collecting the small knife on the floor, a burning desire to get that 7th spot started to build inside you.

I’m gonna be the 7th recruit. I just know it.

The letter that you received earlier that day had not much written in it but you knew exactly what it meant.

To the 7th recruit,

Find Mr. Ten Chittaphon- code blue rose.

-TGP

That was pretty much it but it felt so fucking intense for a recruitment examination. You mentally, and physically prepared yourself for the examination. Looking at the black ink printed on the white paper, you couldn’t help but get excited how TGP (The Gunpoint) already called you the 7th recruit in their letter. It motivated you to do your job correctly, even though it involved almost killing this unknown man named Ten Chittaphon.

You were proud to say that you memorized every single Codes by TGP and according to the letter, they wanted you to track Ten and do whatever you want to get the details from this man and why he’s sabotaging the government even if you have to almost kill this man.

If it was Code Red Rose then you’re up to totally kill him.

After some intensive research, you found out that Ten Chittaphon usually hangs out in this high-end night club near the border, a place where celebrities and politicians hang out to stay clear from public’s eyes. It was known for being too exclusive and strict. You even asked Doyoung, or begged to be exact, to make you a fake ID so you could perfectly blend in. Apparently, it’s difficult for normal people to enter the said club so you had to create a new identity that would link you to a fictitious powerful backer.

Letting out a huge huff and fixing your hair to the side so that your bare shoulders would be perfectly displayed, you strutted your way inside, walking past the guys gawking at your figure like hungry preys. You were simply wearing your only short, tight black dress that perfectly hugged your curves matched with some killer heels to perfect the looks.

You weren’t in for some new fashion trends or anything like that but you certainly didn’t look like a hobo compared to these celebrities going in and out the club sporting nothing but branded clothes.

The ear-splitting music of a foreign song greeted you as the blinding neon lights illuminated the dark dance floor. You could practically see everyone either dancing their drunk ass out or dirty dancing along with the beat, artificial smoke fogging everyone’s view.

It was what made the club exciting but you reminded yourself that you were there to look for a man, and of course, win the 7th spot in TGP. You headed to the counter and ordered yourself some liquor, eyes starting to scan the crowd to find Ten Chittaphon.

Numerous guys approached you to ask for your name or buy you drink, and as much as you want to enjoy, you’re strictly here to focus on your assignment and move on before anyone else could take your spot. After a good 20 minutes of scanning through the foggy and dark room, you froze on your seat when you saw the familiar face of the man you ought to hunt sitting on the couch situated in the reserved booth.

It was as if he made himself available for you.

The strong gaze and pointed nose with his long, disheveled hair perfectly matched the photo given to you by TGP through Doyoung. You knew it was him and wasting your time was the last thing on your list.

Based on the information that you got from people about him, the only way to get on his good side is to offer him something.

You approached him with a curious look, eyeing his whole appearance, which unmistakably screamed wealth, charisma, and power, and thought about how you’re gonna lure him in. Thankfully, he was alone as he sitted comfortably on the leather couch and had a glass of liquor in his right hand to accompany him. His eyes moved to look at you, his body still not moving.

“You look lonely,” you commented, slowly and carefully sitting beside him, making sure to give him a glimpse of what was hidden behind your lacy bra.

“I was waiting for you to come to me,” he replied with a smug look on his face. You were almost surprised that he went along with your words.

He surely knew how to play the game and you readied yourself to level up. With a soft smile, you leaned forward and brushed your lips softly against his ear. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“You’re just in time for me, love,” he moved his head suddenly and had your lips almost touching his instead. He glanced at the dance floor behind you and smiled, the kind that anyone would fall for. “Wanna dance?”

“I would love to,” he stood up and grabbed your hand as you both weaved your way to the crowded dance floor. You were ecstatic at how easy it was for you to have him in your hands already and you had to give more to completely have him alone.

The EDM song came to an end when you were both in the middle and was replaced by a sensual one.

Right.

He immediately had both his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as the people around you did the same to their partners to perfectly feel the lyrics and beat of the music. He was like preventing other people from touching you and wanted you only for himself as he wrapped both arms around your waist.

You swayed your hips back and forth, making sure to brush it against his clothed member. You don’t know how you managed to act this bold but it’s probably the alcohol doing things for you. He seemed to enjoy it because he pulled you closer to him, his hands digging to your waist through your thin dress.

You turned around, your bare back against his chest, your arms stretching to wrapped it around his neck. You could feel his hot breath fanning against the crook of your neck, his lips hovering just a millimeter away from your skin. You both stayed like that, feeling the sensual beat as your mind raced to the thoughts of doing your task as soon as possible without being too obvious.

“What’s your name, darling?” He whispered, his lips slowly making its way to the back of your ear.

“Call me Rina,” you replied and bit back a laugh as a random assed name escaped from your mouth. You haven’t thought about your alias yet so maybe you’ll get an official one after passing the final examinations.

“Hmm…Rina. I like that name,” you turned around to face him again, your eyes level with his, arms still wrapped around his neck. “I’m Ten, but I’m sure you already know it.”

Oh, how I wish I could attack him right now and get done with my task, you thought.

“Everyone knows you here,” you commented, growing impatient about the whole thing. You just want to get things done as soon as possible, get the 7th spot, go home, and get a long ass sleep. You didn’t care much about how fucking hot and handsome he looked with his white long sleeve shirt and black pants, because passing the examination was your current priority.

But damn, this look should be illegal, you thought as you placed both your palms on his chest, your eyes hinting something that he surprisingly understood.

“Wanna go somewhere…private?”

Yes, finally!

“Got a place on your mind?”

“I think I do,” he replied.

The way to the place where he said would send you to paradise was too steamy to say the least. All you could remember was him lifting you up from your seat effortlessly like you weigh nothing and placed you in his lap in which you happily repositioned yourself so you were straddling him.

He was the one who initiated the kiss as he grabbed your head and captured your lips with his. The kiss was hot and so demanding you couldn’t even have the chance to catch your breath. You spent the entire ride in that position, obviously not caring about Ten’s driver looking at you both through the rear view mirror.

When you got inside Ten’s presidential suite, you wasted no time and unbuttoned his shirt as he carried you to his bedroom, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips were still tasting yours with his hands roaming your bottom, making you almost forget what your true intentions were.

You had one of your hands tugging his soft, silky black hair to pull him even closer to you and taste the faint sweet minty flavor of his lips while the other struggled to open the remaining buttons.

He dropped you on his bed, his hooded eyes raking through your body like a hungry wolf. You took all your damn time watching him unbuttoning the last one and taking it off, exposing his milky skin and toned stomach. He crawled on top of you and rested both elbows on either side of your head, his lips immediately attacking your neck. Your hands went to his back, nails slowly digging through his skin as you desperately held onto him.

Focus, (Y/N). Focus!

You pulled away, both of you trying to catch your breath.

“God, you’re making me lose my control,” he whispered and showered your neck and collarbone with sloppy kisses.

“Would you like to…try something new?” You asked in between breaths, hands now tugging his hair. He was confused with your question, based on his looks, and you smiled.

“Do you have a necktie or something similar?” You continued. He chuckled as he just understood what you want to do with the necktie.

Well, the quickest and easiest plan you could think of right now is to seduce the shit out of Ten, tie both his hands together on the headboard and start your task. It’s basically very simple but contrary to your beliefs, he seemed to be a very easy man.

He smiled before getting up to open the drawer beside the king size bed and pulled out a dark green tie.

“I’m guessing you knew what I want to do,” you started as you took the necktie from him, a small yet mischievous smile present on your face. “Would you like me to proceed?”

He was studying your moves as he crawled back to the bed, his hands reaching for your thighs. “I haven’t done this before but I’m willing to try it with you,” he smirked, “Fuck, you’re making me do things I normally don’t like.”

You quietly pushed him so he was now lying on the bed, tying both his hands to the headboard. You made it extra hard to untie for obvious reasons, but made sure it isn’t too suspicious.

You ran your fingers through his chest down to his stomach, stopping right above the band of his pants. You then stood up and turned your back on him, leaving him cursing at the sudden absence of your touch. Slowly reaching for the strap of your heels made you look so dramatic and erotic but in reality, you were just trying to get the small knife from Doyoung’s collection that you hid in the strap wrapped around your thigh.

This is too easy, you smiled to yourself. You just honestly didn’t expect it to be this easy since you thought Ten would be smart enough to suspect your moves.

When you reached for your knife, you almost panicked when you felt nothing in your strap, your fingers carefully scanning your inner thigh just to make sure. Your eyes then slowly moved to scan the white tiled floor, hoping to find the small knife to get things done. You still had your back on him, in which you could feel his intense gaze on you, but you refused to turn around until you find the very weapon you’ll use.

You remembered feeling it under your dress when Ten’s fingers dug into your waist earlier, slowly making it way south but stopped right before he could slip his long, strangely soft hands under your dress. You remembered feeling the cold, sharp surface of the weapon as you swung your hips back and forth along his about an hour ago so you were confused as to where it might be.

You felt Ten getting impatient behind you as you could felt him moving his body against the sheet, and you bent down to take off your heels, taking all your damn time to scan the whole area without looking suspicious.

What the fuck, (Y/N)? Do you really have to be this clumsy?!

With your bare feet touching the cold ground, your fingers slowly reached for the zipper of your dress, eyes still scanning the floor. But right before you could completely take off your dress, you felt a cold and sharp object poking the skin of your throat in which a small move might cut you open.

The warm hands touched your shoulders for a few seconds, as if to tell you they are there, before quickly pulling you to their body knocking the air off your lungs. Your eyes widen at the sudden realize that the knife threatening to slit your throat was the one you were looking for- which also happened to be one of Doyoung’s favourite item.

He wrapped his left arm around you, with the other one holding the knife still threatening your throat.

“Game over, baby girl,” he whispered, hot breath fanning against your neck for the last time before he flipped you over so you’re on the bed and put on a cuff around your wrists behind you at an amazing speed.

You were too shock to say anything and all you did was roll your body so you were now facing him, and stared whoever the fuck he really was as he repositioned himself above you.

With the knife still against your skin he said, “You were too impatient that you made yourself so predictable,” he shook his head and ruffled his hair, making him look like he’s bored to death. “And you fucking suck at acting, you should consider getting a coach before you come to this field of work.”

Shit, so he knew about my plan?

The smirk on his face made you want to smash his face in with a brick but since you’re in such a painful position, wrists behind you with Ten’s weight stopping you from moving, all you could do is protest with your dirty language.

“Get your fucking body off me!”

“Tsk. You’ve got a nasty mouth for a beautiful face.”

“Fuck off!”

He just laughed at your weak attempt of wriggling your way out and you honestly thought it’s gonna be your last night. “And obviously, you miserably failed the final exam. That was probably the shittiest plan I’ve ever encounter in my whole life.” He stood up from the bed and walked to stand before you, hair disheveled and the shirt unbuttoned.

“Wait what?” You looked at him and sat up with the most baffled look ever. “Examination? Are you….are you talking about-”

“The 43rd Annual Recruitment of TGP, yes, and you miserably failed it.”

You felt absolutely humiliated that your cover was blown off and most importantly because that was supposed to be the most crucial part of being an agent.

Also, you failed the examination for the second fucking time.

“And who the fuck are you?” You asked through gritted teeth.

He studied the small knife for a few seconds before glancing at you with a smug look.

“I’m Ten, the 1st recruit.”

Oh shit.

I guess it was the best time for you to say goodbye to your dream of being an agent.

#ken writes #oh look my first ever ten scenario #it's been a while since the last time i wrote lmao #nct #nct u #nct ten #ten chittaphon #ten fluff #ten angst #ten scenario #nct reaction #nct scenario #nct text #nct imagine #kim doyoung #doyoung #nct doyoung #nct au

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impalawanderlust · 7 years

Text

12x18 Wincest Tag

question about the lore research you were talking about

That’s the subject line of the most recent email in Sam’s inbox. It’s from Dean, which would be weird enough on its own, but the fact that he’s asking a question about some research that Sam read weeks ago, that had nothing to do with a case, well...

He didn’t actually think Dean listened to him when he talked about stuff like that. It doesn’t bother him. Really--he knows he can get annoying when he’s excited about statistics or whatever. Particularly when Dean’s always been more interested in the bottom line than in the cause-and-effect that led to it.

Still, it warms the part of his heart that still needs his big brother to validate him. He types out a quick answer, a tiny smile on his face when Dean shuffles in still half-asleep, hair sticking up in every direction as he clutches his coffee mug--only seconds after Sam clicks send.

This is not a case IMO, Dean emails two days later.

It takes Sam a second to get past the shock of his technophobic brother using chat speak, but when he does, he opens the email and reads rest of the message:

but I thought it might be interesting to u. gotta love that true crime, huh Sammy?

ps have u watched that people vs OJ thing yet? looks right up ur alley.

There’s that tiny, pleased feeling again, but now it’s sharing space with no small amount of confusion. Dean’s going out of his way to acknowledge Sam’s interests, but only in emails. They spend almost every waking moment together; is emailing really necessary? Is something wrong? Their relationship is in a pretty good place right now, so unless Dean’s buttering him up before revealing some horrible secret, Sam is flummoxed.

“Your relationship,” jeers the voice in the back of his head that always manages to sound like Lucifer. “How good can it be when you’re the one keeping a horrible, twenty year-old secret?”

Sam pushes the thought away and types a quick thank-you for the link. He’s closed out of his email inbox and is surfing a monster-sighting blog by the time Dean gets back from the grocery store. His green eyes shine as he crows about homemade hamburgers and fries, so Sam gets up from the computer to help him and resolves to put the whole email thing out of his mind.

click this link?

Sam stares at the new email that’s just popped up in his inbox, incredulous. It’s been over a week since the last email from Dean (not counting the youtube video of a hot dog eating contest gone terribly wrong). Sam thought that it was over.

Stranger still, Dean is sitting directly across the table from him looking, for all intents and purposes, totally engrossed in his Words with Friends game. Sam stares at him for a long second, but Dean just hunches his shoulders and keeps tapping away at the screen.

With a put-upon sigh and no small amount of trepidation, Sam clicks on the link. It redirects him to youtube and he braces himself for another vomit video, or, if he’s slightly luckier, a rickroll.

It’s neither of those things. It’s Pearl Jam covering Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters, and even though the picture quality is questionable, the audio bursts from Sam’s laptop speakers, making them both jump.

Sam hits the mute button as quickly as he can, ears burning. When he chances a glance at his brother, Dean isn’t looking much better. There’s a dull red flush creeping up his neck and he’s staring at his phone, fingers frozen.

“Uhh, thanks?” Sam ventures. He’s not exactly sure what the protocol is, but he’s pretty sure that he can’t pretend that he wasn’t just reading Dean’s email.

Dean shrugs, grunts. “Know you like Pearl Jam.” he mumbles, still not looking up from his phone. “If you’re gonna listen to pansy-ass alternative music, ‘least it’s a damn good song.”

Sam thinks about telling him he’s always thought of the lyrics as being about the two of them. He thinks about saying that Dean’s the only person he’s ever really trusted. The only person he’s ever loved so completely.

He doesn’t say anything. He never does. The urge always passes after a few moments.

The night they carve their initials on the bunker table, Sam goes to bed early. He was already emotionally raw from nearly losing his brother during the hunt, and then Dean had pulled out his knife and started talking about their legacies.

Sam won’t have a legacy, and it’s probably better that way. He’s done too much bad to have it outweighed by the good.

His phone chimes, heralding a new message, and Sam throws a glance at the notification. An email.

From Dean.

The subject line says legacy and Sam has to smile at how, even after all these years, they still manage to be in sync.

Sammy u have saved a lot of people. u saved the whole world. u deserve to be remembered forever.

Sam blinks away the tears that are suddenly pricking at his eyes. He’s stunned.

Didn’t know you felt that way.

Dean’s answer comes so quickly he can’t be doing anything other than staring at his inbox.

i know. startin to realize u dont know a lot of what i feel.

my fault. im not very good at talking about it Sammy.

Sam’s fingers tremble as he writes back.

I wish you’d trust me.

Dean’s reply is puzzling.

u might not like what u hear

Frowning, Sam runs his thumb over the screen. There’s plenty that Dean could say that he wouldn’t like to hear. That he’s a failure, a fuck-up. That Dean still thinks he’s a monster that should be put down. Somehow, though, Sam knows that’s not what this is. This feels like something that should’ve happened a long time ago. Something that could clear away all the years of misunderstandings between them. But if he’s wrong, it could ruin everything. Sam’s heart pounds as he taps out a rejoinder.

Try me.

He waits for a few long moments, but Dean doesn’t email back. Disappointment starts to creep in, like a pit forming in his stomach. He pushed too hard, he’s always pushing too hard...

There’s a single, sharp knock at the door and Sam bolts to his feet. He takes two long strides over and wrenches it open. He barely gets a look at Dean’s expression, hope and fear warring in his eyes, before his brother shoulders his way in and grabs Sam by the front of his nightshirt.

“Sammy, I--I...” he falters, fists tightening in the front of Sam’s shirt as his bravado deserts him.

Sam reaches up and puts his hands over his brother’s. “Dean. Trust me. Please just let me in.”

Dean opens his mouth to speak again, but still nothing comes out. Before Sam can do anything else, he makes a frustrated noise and drags him down to his level, crushing their mouths together.

Sam gasps and Dean takes the opportunity to press deeper, saying with his lips, and teeth, and tongue all the things he can’t manage to give voice to.

I trust you implicitly. I’m sorry for the times I didn’t. I believe in you. I love you. Sam hears it all in the frantic drum of his brother’s heartbeat. He feels it in Dean’s calloused fingers at the back of his neck. He tastes it in the candy-coffee-Dean of this kiss.

And he knows that Dean doesn’t verbalize his feelings very well, knows that he has to respond in a way that his brother can understand. So he wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and kisses back, putting a lifetime of devotion into it.

I want to give you everything. I’ll always look up to you. I’ve never loved anyone else so completely.

Dean smiles against his mouth and Sam knows he heard the message loud and clear.

#supernatural #fanfiction #wincest #season 12 #spn 12x18 #flash fiction #what even happened here holy shit #crossposted to ao3 cos it got way longer than I anticipated #no beta

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ultralifehackerguru-blog · 7 years

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New Post has been published on http://www.lifehacker.guru/why-new-parents-need-to-take-a-break-from-the-news-and-what-they-should-do-instead-2/

Why New Parents Need to Take a Break From the News (and What They Should Do Instead)

In the months after my kids were born, the news cycle would send me into tailspins of anxiety and fear. The Penn State sex-abuse scandal and the Newtown shootings paralyzed me for days—I wept while changing diapers, wept in the bathtub, wept while pushing the stroller down the street. What might have been (merely!) horrifying pre-kids was now incapacitating. For my own mental health, I had to stop reading the news and looking at social media.

Take a Media Fast

Judging from the conversations in my moms’ groups, these feelings aren’t at all unusual. New parents are especially vulnerable to anxiety, says Laura Venuto, a New York City therapist specializing in postpartum mental-health issues. “Sleep deprivation and hormones exacerbate mood and anxiety symptoms. With new parenthood comes a heightened awareness that you’re suddenly not only responsible for yourself, but also a small child in what sometimes seems like a dangerous world.”

Dr. Venuto suggests a total news-media fast or at least a major reduction, corralling your news into 10 or 15 minutes (“In the morning! Not before bed!” she says), and then doing something pleasurable, like playing with your baby or calling a friend. For those worried that being out of touch means slacking off in their political activism, she gently suggests cutting yourself some slack: “If you’re a new parent, you’re not going to be making changes on a global scale. You’re in survival mode. You can put in a call to your representative, and that can be enough.”

Practice ‘Containment’

Lissa Hunsicker Kenney, a social worker in Brooklyn who counsels trauma survivors, also recommends “containment”—the first line of treatment for anxiety—as a first step. “Turning off your iPhone is containment—because it’s so easy for it to become uncontained. It just scrolls and scrolls, and it’s endless.”

So what are we supposed to do, instead? (Besides take care of our kids, I mean.) I asked Lifehacker readers, and my own new-mom friends, what media they turn to for good escapist distraction. I didn’t vet all the answers (though I did nix anything that had “horror” in its IMDB description—what about “non-disturbing” did these people not understand?) so do your own research before leaping into something totally unknown. They’re a good mix of classics, favorite sitcoms and adventure shows, a few kids’ shows and books, comics, and pretty much the entire oeuvre of the BBC.

Ideally, this list will remind of you of beloved books, TV shows, and movies that you’ve enjoyed in the past and will be soothing entertainment now, while you’re still in the sensitive new-parent stage. I read all of Jane Austen at night instead of mindless smartphone scrolling; others swear by sitcoms: “When my son was born we very quickly figured out we had to stop watching Breaking Bad and Walking Dead and just ended up re-watching Parks and Rec on a continuous loop for like three years,” one commenter wrote. Check out the original comments here, and please add your favorite comforting (no child-in-peril, no dead parents, no rapes or murders) media below.

TV & Movies

30 Rock

All Creatures Great and Small

Alias (a spy thriller spanning five seasons, so there are murders and occasional child-in-peril plotlines, but it’s a pretty campy show, so I didn’t find it especially distressing)

The Andy Griffith Show

Flip This House (or any fixer-upper/DIY type shows)

Any stupid Adam Sandler movie

Archer

Arrested Development

Black Adder

Black Books

Bob’s Burgers

Boondocks

Borgen

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (skipping “The Body” and maybe the second half of season five)

Catastrophe

Community

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Critical Role on Geek and Sundry

Doctor Thorne (almost comically predictable, appropriate for anyone with only half a functioning brain, but any costume drama will do in a pinch. Check out this terrific resource for period dramas, but I strongly urge you to skip Call the Midwife if you have a newborn.)

Drunk History

Ed, Edd ‘n Eddy

Elimidate

Everybody Loves Raymond

Farscape

Father Ted

Friends

Futurama

Get Smart

Ghostbusters

Gilmore Girls

Gravity Falls

The Great British Bake-off (or any cooking show)

Grey’s Anatomy (I can’t believe this is still on the air; I have like 10 years to catch up on. Warning: it’s a hospital show, so people do die. Deeennnnnnny!)

Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Laaaaaaaaaw

Hogan’s Heroes

How I Met Your Mother

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Jeeves and Wooster

Kids’ shows and movies, like Adventure Time, Reading Rainbow (the awesome 80’s-90’s version), A Dragon’s Tale, Out of the Box, Teen Titans GO, Rocko’s Modern Life, Hey Arnold!, Rocky & Bullwinkle, Babe, the Narnia movies, Nanny McPhee

Kiki’s Delivery Service (“Miyazaki in general is a great way to escape into a different realm. The colors, the music, the gorgeous inventive artwork and the great characters in all his films makes him a master illusionist and conductor into a whole new world..” “…but not Grave of the Fireflies,” says another commenter.)

Broad City (“It’s hilarious and my life feels like a complete financial success by comparison.”)

King of the Hill

Last Man on Earth

Lucha Underground

M*A*S*H

The Mary Tyler Moore Show

Midsomer Murders (“While there are murders, everyone is so provincial and charming, it’s like coming home where you know everyone except for that darned stranger that got themselves killed.”)

The Mindy Project

Mr. Bean

MST3K

Any terrible reality TV (“I watch The People’s Court or Judge Judy, which I DVR in case I need them.”)

News Radio

Northern Exposure

Office Space

Only Fools and Horses

Over the Garden Wall

Parks and Rec

Party Down

Real Genius

Real Housewives (“Oddly enough, RHOC comforts me in that I always feel smart, competent, healthy, and sane afterward.”)

The Simpsons

SlowTV “Right after the election, my wife and I started watching a lot of SlowTV on Netflix. Things like Norwegian knitting competitions.”

Smallville

South Park

Space: 1999

Star Trek

Steven Universe

Supernatural

Taxi

The Blues Brothers

The Eagle Huntress (“a thoroughly enjoyable documentary”)

The first three Muppet movies

The IT Crowd

The Office

The Simpsons

The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt

The West Wing

The X Files

Top Gear

Trainwreck

Veep

Veronica Mars, season 1

The Vicar of Dibley

Waiting for Guffman

What’s Up, Doc?

Books

A Suitable Boy

The Age of Innocence, or really anything by Edith Wharton

Alexander Hamilton

All Creatures Great and Small

Anne of Green Gables (really anything by L.M Montgomery)

Born Standing Up

Bossypants

Bridget Jones’s Diary (good escapist movie too)

Calvin and Hobbes

Circle of Friends, or really anything by Maeve Binchy

The Code of the Woosters, or anything by P.G. Wodehouse

The Elegance of the Hedgehog

The Grand Sophy or anything by Georgette Heyer

the Harry Potter series

I Capture The Castle

I’m Your Biggest Fan

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?

Jane Eyre

The Last Days of Night

Love in a Cold Climate

Maisie Dobbs

Ms. Marvel (comic)

My Family and Other Animals

The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

The Other Boleyn Girl, or anything by Philippa Gregory

Pride and Prejudice, Emma, or really anything by Jane Austen

The Pursuit of Love

A Room With a View

Restoration, or anything by Rose Tremain

Sir John Mortimer’s Rumpole books

Sherlock Holmes

Today Will Be Different

Tom Jones

Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (comic)

Washington Square

West With the Night

Where’d You Go, Bernadette?

Yes Please