#advanced retouching

[priorityeditofficial]

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[becauseicantthinkwritings]

To Love and To Cherish (II)

Part 10 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: CNC, oral (f), knife play (he fucks her with the hilt of his knife), bondage, threats, chasing, creepy phonecalls, mild mirror sex, somnophilia, anxiety, fear, angst, cliffhanger.

A/N: Please keep in mind that though this is dark play, everything has been discussed and even practised in advance and is fully consensual.

Hehe

@icannotbetrustedalone 😘

A late lunch is brought to your door after you wake up. You have no idea how Sam knew you were awake, perhaps she'd timed your jet lag that well.

She tells you to enjoy, that her team will be here around dusk to get you dressed for your date.

You smile at that word, knowing that she had no real clue what your husband was really up to.

Later in the day, there’s a knock on your door.

You open it to Sam, with her binder, looking eager.

“Are you ready?” She asks with a smile.

When you nod and open the door wider, she turns her head and nods too, and you blink in surprise when four other women follow her into your room with a lot of different things in hand.

You spot a garment bag, and a makeup kit, another bag has a hair curler sticking out.

They introduce themselves, their specialties are in hairstyles, makeup and nails.

You're out of your depth and you say so, glancing over at Sam for some kind of help.

“Don't worry, we already know what to do based off your preferences.” She explains, “You just have to sit back and enjoy being pampered.”

You guess you could try.

When they're done, you're surprised to see so much of yourself there.

There's a lovely little tiara on your head, your hair in a delicate updo with strands framing your face. The dress- is beyond beautiful, white shimmering fabric, an off shoulder design that makes you feel like a princess.

Your fingers and toes are freshly done in a dark red like you'd requested, so that they can match the red on your lips.

There's a small heel on your silver shoes- safe to run in while still being pretty.

“You guys are amazing.” You say in wonder as you fully assess yourself.

They laugh, happy that you're satisfied.

Sam presents one final thing to you, the one odd thing you'd asked for that wasn't in your binder.

You grin at her, ducking into the ensuite bathroom and tugging the garter out of the box, sliding it on. 

There's a small knife attached to it, and you make sure it's concealed, and easily reachable through the slit in your dress before you step out again.

When they’re finished with some last minute makeup retouches, Sam smiles proudly, and wishes you a very good night, letting you know that they’ll all be leaving you soon, here alone with your husband. 

You can’t help the excited pulse your nether regions give at the reminder, dressed pristinely from head to toe, all for Billy to tear off.

You grin at Sam, walking the small group of women to the door, listening quietly to their plans for the night, encouraging and enjoying their banter, sending them off with a wave into a car waiting for them.

The heavy wooden door closes with a dull sound that echoes through the castle, emphasising your desolation.

You turn, leaning against the door in your shimmery dress, taking in the quiet silence of the place.

There’s a little bit of fear tingling down your spine, the feeling of being truly alone in such a big place, not really knowing where you are, with no means of escape.

You find that it turns you on.

All dressed up, all for him, and you can’t even really leave, a headiness to the realisation, your fear is an aphrodisiac all on its own.

You bite down on the corner of your lip, smiling, pushing yourself away from the door, and decidedly picking a direction to begin your exploration.

You touch everything you see, trailing your freshly done fingertips over every item, examining the feel, appreciating the textures.

The curtains, the lighting fixtures, you examine all of it, a crown on your head that makes you almost feel like you own it all.

You get into the fantasy he’s weaved, becoming the role of the princess he’s cast you in.

You find the throne room first, a flourish of plum and golds, a large red carpet leading to the thrones in question- two- sitting side by side, beckoning you closer. 

You squint, looking up at the massive chandelier that sits in the middle of the room, with little pieces of glass that if cleaned properly, would probably reflect little shards of light. 

You pick the chair on the right, and settle yourself onto it, sighing happily at how comfortable it is, relaxing for a moment, before standing to continue your exploration.

You’re passing the dining room when a phone begins to ring in the distance.

It sends a shiver of fear over you, the dated sound echoing through the halls. You begin searching for it, following the rings of what you assume is an old era phone.

You find the phone on a table at the bottom of the staircase, ruby red, sitting beside a marble statue of a woman, posed with her hand in the air as if to block the light from her eyes.

It keeps ringing until you tentatively pick it up, bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say softly into it.

There’s a voice on the other end, modulated to be unrecognizeable to you, but even that sends a shiver of excitement through you.

“Princess.” The voice says calmly.

You swallow.

“Who is this?”

The voice is deep, each grovel is a tremor in your body.

“I’m just a nightmare, sweetheart. I hope you’re ready for me.”

You shudder, shaking your head.

“Ready for what?”

He doesn’t answer your question.

“You look gorgeous. Prettier than I expected. It’s making me… want.”

You stiffen, taking a breath and looking around, searching the shadows for some sign of a man, lurking in the darkness.

“You can see me?” You ask in a soft whisper, laying the fear on thickly.

“Of course, princess. I’ll be inside soon, we’ll get a nice, long introduction to each other.”

You gasp in surprise, dropping the phone and moving quickly to the doors you passed during your exploration, making sure that they’re locked.

Your hand is on the door separating the kitchen from the gardens- when the lights go out.

You hear your own breath of surprise, your heart pattering in your chest, real fear being awakened inside of you when you realise that this is actually happening.

Everything is still, you’re afraid to move, the darkness becoming honey thick all around you.

Eventually, being still is too much, and you have to force your body to break the stillness around you.

There’s barely a sliver of light, the moon, casting pale streams through the windows. Instinct tells you to stay where you can see, your body backed against the window, eyes peering into the darkness as if it’s alive and coming for you.

You glance down when something shimmery catches your eye, gasping, you realise that the moonlight makes you a bigger target, your dress reflecting its beams in every direction.

It leaves you no choice but to step into the darkness.

You wonder where he is, if hands will just reach out and grab you at any given moment.

It makes your stomach tight, that what you’ve been yearning for is almost within reach.

“Hello?” You call out shyly, voice shaking just a little. You walk softly out of the kitchen, one hand against the wall to guide you, unsure of exactly where you’re going.

Suddenly, a chill runs over the back of your neck, like a soft breath from someone standing just behind you. You turn, waving your hand into the darkness, and finding nothing but air.

You feel so much like prey in that moment, searching for a predator with hunting skills beyond your comprehension.

You’re passing the dining room when your heart freezes in your chest. In the corner of your eye, you can see the silhouette of a dark figure, standing in the moonlit window.

Your breath halts in your throat, turning to face him, the swishing of your dress is louder in your ears.

The mask is- terrifying- white, with the appearance of fractured glass across it, some pieces missing over the cheek area, his real face peeking through.

He raises a hand, and presses a gloved finger to the mouth of the mask.

You turn, and run.

Fuck, this was it, it was really happening. He was here, and he was going to do all the things he promised he would, all the things you’d practised together so that he was sure you were always one hundred percent safe and comfortable.

You’re not very fast, the dress and heels slowing you down

He grabs you at the very moment the lights flick on.

It takes a moment for your eyes to get adjusted, and then you gasp when your back is slammed to a wooden wall behind you, the intricate carvings pressing uncomfortably to your spine.

His hands are on your shoulders, keeping you in place as you look up at him with fear in your eyes.

You finally get a chance to see him fully, all masked up, covered from head to toe in what can only be the most mouth watering look on the planet.

Sure, his suits were divine, but seeing him dressed down like this was a cherry on top of a malevolent cake.

It clings to his skin, the cut of his chest and arms showing through the tight, long- sleeved shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of navy combat pants, and further into boots.

It’s much easier to note where you can see his skin- on his wrists between the sleeve and the glove, his neck, and parts of his face that show through the fractured pieces of his mask.

He’s a work of devastating art, lust incarnate, bringing forth so much delight that you struggle to hide it.

“Please,” you whisper shakily, getting into character, feeling it spark arousal, “Don't hurt me.”

You watch the darkness clouds his eyes, a predator, hidden beneath layers of humanity, finally being set free.

“Oh, princess,” he whispers, leaning in, trailing his gloved thumb over your jaw and cheekbone lovingly, “I am definitely going to hurt you.” 

You gasp at his words, reaching for the weapon strapped to your thigh. It was your turn to give him a surprise.

The dagger is sharp, you made sure of it, wanted it to be real, you wanted to see a genuine look of surprise in his eyes when you finally pressed it to his neck.

Except, he doesn't look surprised at all.

“Leave.” You say, with so much command in your voice that you almost believe you have the power to say something like that to him.

He studies you for a lengthy moment, before he tilts his head back and lets out a deep laugh, and even that, works to seduce you.

His hold is an iron grip on your wrist, and it was a mistake letting him grab you, he’s too strong, and no matter how hard you struggle, you can’t get your hand back.

“This knife is pathetic, princess.” He grabs the hilt, twisting it so that you’re forced to release it or have your wrist twisted too, it clatters loudly in the empty space.

“Is that all you have to fight me off with? No wonder this is so easy.”

You exhale angrily, trying to push him away, your freshly done nails digging into his arms.

He grips your hands, pulling them above your head and pinning them there with one of his.

A soft sound of distress leaves your lips, struggling to get away but your dress is too much of a hindrance, keeping your legs pressed in one place when he moves closer.

“Here, why don’t I show you mine?” He murmurs, reaching with his free hand to pull a significantly larger knife out of his boot.

You gulp, eyeing it wearily as he rubs the handle roughly against your cheek, the hilt is coated in a rubber, with indents to help with grip. He slides it around till it’s pressed to your lips, smearing your lipstick, you angle your head away to avoid it.

“I’m going to fuck you with this,” He promises, leaning in till the mouth of his mask is on your ear,  “Gonna use it to get you ready for my cock.”

“No.” you murmur weakly.

“No?” He teases, “Well why don’t you try stopping me then?” He murmurs, pulling back a little to free you from his hold.

You’re surprised to be free, knowing that it’s just a trick, knowing that he wants to chase you. 

You keep your eyes on his form, watching him observe you as you slowly back away.

“Go on, princess,” He says in such a condescending tone that your knees wobble, “Run away from me.”

When you're far enough away that you know he won't grab you, you turn, pulling your skirts up a little so that you can run.

Heart pounding in your chest you have no idea where you're going or what your plan is beyond running away. You couldn't very well hide in a dress that glimmers when you breathe, you couldn't fight- all you really had in your arsenal was your capacity to get him angrier.

With that in mind, you grab the first heavy thing you can find- the telephone directory- turning and chucking it in his approximate vicinity.

It doesn't slow him down at all, because he grabs your wrist in the next second, pulling you into him.

“No!” You exclaim, swiping your nails across his mask, knocking it askew so that he can't see.

You’re not proud of how hard you stomp his foot next, watching him double over with a low grunt, allowing you to get some distance. 

The phone, you decide, angling your run to get you to the base of the main stairs.

You just make it to the phone- grabbing the glossy handset and raising it to your ear- before he grabs it roughly from you, reaching behind to rip all the important wires out of the back.

You almost can’t do it, wanting to drop to your knees right there and beg him to take you- but you know that deep down you had to see this fantasy fully play out.

He’s angry now, and he shows it by grabbing the entire phone and slamming it to the floor while you watch, backing away in horror, his sleek boot slamming the broken pieces until it’s nothing but ruby shards.

“Who were you going to call, princess? You don’t even know where you are.”

Jesus, you think, helplessly aroused.

The next time you turn away, he wraps an arm around your waist and picks you up.

You kick your feet in protest, scratching at his arms, trying to pry his iron grip off of you but it’s no help, you grunt, and you kick and you wriggle and still he drags your body wherever.

He drops you below the chandelier of the throne room. 

It glitters in your eyes as you try to catch your bearings, sitting up you watch him grab a length of rope from his belt.

You try to scramble back but your dress catches under your feet, making you slip, falling back even more.

He grips one of your wrists while you’re disoriented, and you feel the rope wrap tightly around it. You try to push him off, but he just catches your other hand, wrapping them securely in front of you, knotting them easily.

He stands, and with a strong arm, throws the other end of the rope through a support rung of the chandelier, catching it as it swings toward him.

Then, he pulls, forcing you up onto your knees, your hands suspended in the air, as he moves to secure the rope to the throne nearby.

You struggle, trying to tug your way out, your legs tangled in your dress, stopping you from standing.

“I wouldn’t.” He warns softly, “Pull too hard and it might fall, carving up that pretty body before I’m done.”

He kneels beside you, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“That would make me, real upset.” He breathes through the mask.

“P-lease.” You beg, turning your head to look at him, relaxing when you realise there was no escaping without hurting yourself.

“God, you're so pretty.” He trails a gloved hand over your cheek, down your chest, the leather is smooth on your skin, you shiver when his hand reaches the top of your dress.

“I almost don't want to hurt you.” his hand smooths over the front of the dress, slipping lower to gently untangle the skirts from your legs, you adjust to let him do so, thinking that it will allow you to stand up.

You turn your head to look at him, examining his eyes through the mask, the way they linger on your body, you don’t even realise what’s been done until you feel his gloved hand slip under your panties and press right to your clit.

The friction is delicious, the smooth leather providing an interesting feel between your thighs. You look down, realising he’s used the high slit of your dress to get under your skirts easily.

“Don’t.” You beg, trying to inch away, “Please.”

“I don’t fucking care what you want, princess.” He grits out harshly, his finger pressing down more firmly, slipping from side to side, the pleasure, trying to force you to shut down your resistance.

“I’m here to steal from you, and I’m going to take everything I want.”

Your breaths become shallow when his finger starts circling your aching bud, you’ve been denying yourself for so long that you feel the sweet burn of pleasure the longer he does it.

You can even feel how wet you are, in the fluidness of his movements. He breathes into your ear, and you find yourself leaning into him to take the weight off of your knees.

“Don’t do this,” You murmur weakly, “Please I’ll do anything.”

He laughs in your ear, slowing his movements to torment you.

“I’m doing you a favour, sweetheart, you should be grateful. At least I have the decency to let you cum before I fuck you with my knife.”

You make a sound of protest, angling away from him.

“No!” You cry.

He doesn’t let you move far, gripping the back of your head, till it’s tilted back, hands suspended above you, his fingers resume their fast movement on your clit.

He’s dextrous, even with gloves on, you can feel the micromovements that succeed in bringing you right up to that edge even faster.

Your eyes roll back in your head, surprised that he’s got you right on edge so soon, though you know you shouldn’t be, this is your husband after all, he knows exactly how to get you off.

The weeks of denial burn, your body not accustomed to orgasm needs an extra push getting there, he presses down even firmer, speeding up.

You groan, unable to stop it, or resist it, your stomach clenched tight with nothing in sight but the precipice of orgasm.

Don’t stop, you beg internally, please don’t stop.

It’s a hollow thing, but strong nonetheless. You breathe shallowly through gritted teeth as you reach your peak, thighs trembling, as you rut yourself helplessly on his gloved fingers.

Too good, needing just a little bit more, thighs sticky with your orgasm, his fingers growing even more messy as you come.

Your vision whites out for a moment, senses evaporating temporarily, you come back to the sound of your own panting, heavy in the room.

You don’t get a chance to look over at him with desperate eyes, he pulls his hand from between your thighs and promptly shoves his drenched fingers into your mouth.

You hum in protest, trying to pull away, but he’s still got that iron grip on the back of your head.

“Taste that slutty little cunt, princess. Remember how wet you get for me when you’re begging me to stop later.”

You can only grunt your denial, with his fingers in your mouth, the taste of leather and your arousal making its point on your tongue.

When he draws his hand back, they come out with heavy strings of saliva that cling to your bottom lip.

“You’ll pay for this.” You whisper hoarsely, your head hanging low. Your arms start to ache a little from the way they’re held above your head.

It’s the wrong thing to say, he grips your hair once more, tugging your head back to an almost uncomfortable position.

“What was that?”

You make a little sound at the way he manhandles you, tilting your head, you look him in the face.

“I said, ‘You'll pay for this.”

He studies you slowly, you watch his eyes flicker as he studies your face. You curl your hands into fists, hoping he lets you down soon.

His laughter doesn't surprise you, but it does make your stomach twist.

“Yeah? Who’s gonna make me pay? You?” He says between small sounds of amusement, reaching back, he pulls the knife from before out of his pocket.

You eye it warily, as he brings the blade up to your line of sight, you swallow, trying to breathe as you examine the wicked edge of the serrated blade.

You go perfectly still when the cool metal of the blade touches your cheek.

“You might be a pretty little thing, but you have no power to make me pay. You’re all mine to do what I want. You can’t stop me.”

You whine pitifully, knowing that his words were true.

He reaches up, cutting the rope and guiding your hands into your lap. By now, they tingle, almost numb but not quite, you sigh in relief, watching him quietly squeeze your arms.

“Don’t be scared,” He says, surprisingly soft for someone who was just running the sharp edge of a knife over your cheek, “I'm sure you'll learn to love taking my cock. Maybe with time, you'll beg me for it.”

“Go to hell.” You utter with as much venom as you can muster.

Behind the mask, you hear his laugh, watching the way he lowers his hand, flipping the knife around so that the hilt points toward you.

You lean away, your dress glittering as you move, feeble bound arms raising to push his hand back as he draws closer.

You don’t get far in stopping him, and in the next moment, you feel the hilt of his blade pressed between your thighs.

Fuck, this was too good.

Your head tips back in bliss, torn between fighting him and begging him to just take you in any way he wanted.

Your husband, the man you loved with almost every atom in your body.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You whisper on a shaky breath, turning to look at him.

Behind the mask, he huffs, the hand in your hair wraps neatly around your throat.

Pulling you close, looking into your eyes, you can hear his angry breaths behind his mask.

He wriggles the hilt of his knife against your cunt, pleasure swelling in your head at the very touch.

He stands suddenly, sheathing his knife, grips your arm to haul you up. Your legs wobble, almost giving out beneath you before he’s wrapping his hands around your hips to lift you.

With your hands tied together, there’s nothing more you can do than wiggle, shifting your body this way and that, but he doesn’t say a word, dropping you onto one of the thrones in the next moment.

He grabs the rope that's tied to the throne- the one that had been used to pull you onto your knees just moments before- and uses it to secure each hand to either side of you.

You kick your foot out at him, and he simply grabs your ankle, gloved hand trailing up to your thigh for a moment before he bends your knee, pulling your leg over the arm of the throne, and securing your ankle to a point somewhere between the base and the foot that you can't really see.

From there, it's over for you, your other foot is caught just as swiftly, and the next thing you know, you’re tied securely to the throne with your legs opened wide, draped across the arms of the intricately carved seat.

He's silent for a moment, appreciating his work, you tug at the restraints to further reinforce his satisfaction that you can't move.

“Damn. You look like a work of art.”

You frown up at him.

He leans over you, and you finally understand the versatility he has with you in this position. He could fuck your cunt, or your mouth, or even your breasts if he so wanted and you couldn't do a damn thing.

He grips your jaw with one hand, tilting your head up, coming closer, pressing a knee into the open space between your thighs for balance. When he gets close enough, he covers your eyes, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours.

It gives you butterflies, the way he presses in firmly, taking with his mouth, his beard scratching softly at your chin and lips. You hum against his mouth, feeling his hold on your jaw tighten for a second before he's shoving his tongue past your lips.

Like he owns you, his kiss consumes your senses, your bound fingers curling into little fists as you enjoy kissing him for a few moments more.

Before you bite down harshly on his tongue.

He pulls away in a split second, back to you as he presses his hand to his mouth. You grin in victory as he tugs the mask sitting on his head back down to his face before turning to face you angrily.

He's slow when he approaches, predatory with his long legs and his cocky attitude.

He drops to one knee in front of you, tilts his head, leaning in.

You hear the loud thud of his hand slamming into the space beside your head long before you've registered what's happened.

It makes you flinch in surprise, despite the fact that he'd practised it with you before. It seems way more sinister now, with his masked persona feeling like a different person altogether.

Naturally, the fear spinning inside of you, only succeeds in making you more aroused. 

“You're such a brat, I almost want to fuck you right now with no prep.” He presses his thumb between your spread legs, ambling slowly over your clothed clit, “I bet I'd make that little cunt cry with how much I stretch her.”

You suck in a slow breath.

“Please don't.”

He pulls his knife out again.

“You don’t really have a choice.” He answers, carefully angling the cool blade between the seam of your panties.

“Don’t move, little girl, or I might accidentally hurt you- on purpose.” He teases, tugging the knife toward him so that your panties are cut through with zero effort.

You sigh in relief when your cunt is finally exposed to the cool air, sticky with arousal, you groan when he tugs your undergarment free.

“Look at that weepy little hole princess- fuck- she’s so empty, isn’t she?”

“Noo” You hum softly, clenching around nothing as he studies your most delicate area.

He moves slowly, almost reverent in his actions, notching the tip of his hilt against your entrance, you feel your lungs seize as the pleasure hits you.

You hiss when he presses in, the ridged hilt stretching you open, not as big as his cock, but certainly larger than his fingers.

You take it as best as you can, relaxing, eyes watering with an abundance of pleasure.

He tilts his head, makes a single click of his tongue.

“She’s so greedy,” He says breathlessly, “Look at that.” He sinks more of the hilt in.

You bite your lip, moaning when he pulls slowly out, pushing in again.

He starts slow, moving softly until you can take all of the hilt. He grips the blade, you wonder if the glove protects him from the sharp edge.

You want to say his name, but he hasn’t given it, so you settle for sniffling, your bottom lip wobbling wetly as he takes his time.

“Stop.” You mewl, trying to stay in character, looking at his masked face, watching his dark eyes look back.

“No, sweetheart,” He says evenly, “I’m going to play with you, until I’m done.”

You suck in a deep breath, holding it.

He quickens his pace just a little, and before you know it, your cunt has locked tight around the hilt of his knife, every blunted ridge of it being imprinted into your head as you see stars.

It’s unexpected, you hadn’t meant to cum, your body jerking helplessly against the restraints, you pant, unable to see straight for a few moments.

You gulp in air, coming back to your senses. He waits patiently for your orgasm to subside, your body to relax before he works the hilt out of your eager cunt.

“You’re so pretty when you do that.” He says, tucking his knife back into his belt, studying you for a moment before reaching up to shove two of his fingers past your lips.

You can’t go anywhere, simply forced to feel him carefully push and pull his fingers in and out of your mouth, the weight on your tongue encouraging your brain to surrender to him.

When he determines his fingers are wet enough, he glides them down your chest, and tugs at the front of your dress.

It takes a little work before his thumb and index find your pert nipple.

A breath of air leaves you, and your back arches involuntarily, begging for more of his touch.

“You like it, huh? Kinda pathetic.”

“Rot in- f- hell.” You grunt, eyes rolling back as pleasure swims in your head from the way he takes his time to play with your nipples.

You feel his hand, drag over your stomach as he chuckles, the rushing sound as he disturbs the fabric of your skirts. Deft fingers rub circles into your inner thigh before a lone finger slips under the silky elastic garter that was holding your little knife.

You watch him assess you, bound arms and spread thighs and his masked face tilts as his eyes meet your centre.

“So pretty.” He mumbles, before he leans in, lifts his mask to the top of his head and lays a gentle lick to the seam of your cunt.

You gasp in surprise, unable to see his face with the mask atop his head, all you can do is feel- the way he licks gently at you, softly, the need burning white hot with each moment he teases. His tongue trails up to your clit, offers you a preview of the pleasure he can give, before placing slow swipes of his tongue over you.

You sigh, the fight leaves your limbs, you feel like jelly above him, with a tongue that can only be described as godly.

There’s no way you can continue fighting past this, his tongue pulls obedience from you, compliance, it makes you willing and eager to let him do whatever he wanted, helpless for your perfect husband.

You let out a slow moan, head tipping back, thighs trembling with the way his tongue moves, gliding over your clit, showing you exactly what he was capable of without ever actually giving you anything.

“Please,” You simper, unable to resist, with the tongue of such a dextrous man working on you.

If he wants to ask you about where your fight went, he doesn’t bother, merely laughing into your heated cunt, the fractures of his pale mask staring back at you.

Almost there, your fingers curl tight, nails pressed to the flesh of your palms as your breathing hastens. 

There’s a rushing in your head, pressure all over, threatening to make you burst apart.

You’re not sure if he knows or cares, his mask moving slightly when his head does, when his tongue, the raving appendage it is, delves through you.

Faster and yet faster, slippery tongue gliding over you, aimed at your oversensitive bundle of nerves, delicate movements of his tongue that are going to unravel you.

His beard rough against your thighs, a wet smacking sound, warm air brushing over you as he exhales, the reminder that he's there, enjoying his time on his knees, unwilling to stop until you've hit that peak.

He presses in closer, his grip on your thighs tightening, firm in their reminder that he’s there- as if you could forget. Your body shakes, soft whines leave your throat, his tongue harsher on your clit.

“I-” You try to say, but your body decides that you’ve spoken enough, you bite down on your bottom lip, every muscle in your body pulled tight.

The first thing you do when your orgasm hits, is tremble.

A sweet fire erupts inside of you, an insurmountable amount of pleasure spreading over you. Your breathing is harsh, heaving, his soft tongue licks you through it, gentle now and soothing between your thighs, no doubt drinking deep of your orgasm.

You press your hips into his face, unable to stop yourself, and he rewards the movement with more careful touches of his tongue.

The rope holding your arms and legs down chafes slightly, protesting your movement, and after a minute, you slump into the chair, boneless and sated.

Your breathing remains harsh, lips wet from being trapped between your teeth, your face is hot, you can feel each time the blood reaches your cheeks, each time your heart contracts in your chest.

You can't hold yourself up and you know it. If you weren't tied up you'd be in a boneless pile.

“Not bad, princess.” He says, warm breath on your thighs. He raises his body to be in your line of sight, the mask still covering his face. 

You feel your nipples tingle, excitement stiffening them as he hovers above you.

He tilts his head to study you, his gloved finger tapping the tip of your nose, sliding down to your parted lips.

“You look real pretty when you come. Your mouth opens and your eyes roll back sometimes- makes me want to do it again and again so I can memorise the way you look.”

It's hard to respond, brain hazy with post-orgasmic bliss, but you have to- you need to.

“Please,” You whisper, “You're not the first man to make me come, and you won't be the last.”

You know you're in real trouble when his hand wraps around your throat.

Your eyes widen, he squeezes hard for a moment, which only succeeds in filling your brain with mindless pleasure. You don't bother trying to breathe, waiting till his grip loosens to take a small breath.

“If you think,” He grunts angrily, leaning in till he hovers over you, “that another man is ever going to touch you, you're more delusional than I thought, princess.”

You can only make a small grunt of protest, gazing angrily up at him.

“And maybe I can't control who touched you before I met you, but I can still gift you their heads.”

It makes your breath stutter in shock.

He releases your throat, pressing the tip of his gloved finger to your bottom lip.

“Tug this off. I want to really touch you now.”

You hold his eyes while your teeth sink into the tip of his glove, biting down on his finger too. He pulls down, dislodging his finger from the glove. You release it, and repeat the process with all five of his fingers, and finally, when they're all loose, you clamp your teeth down on the middle finger of his glove and he pulls his hand free easily.

 It smears your lipstick no doubt, and you probably look quite messy by now, no doubt your hair is askew as well.

He reaches down after he makes you help with his other glove, and you hear the slow drag of his zipper. Nothing has ever sounded so euphoric.

You look up at him with wide eyes to find that he's already looking at you.

His eyes terrify you, so much darkness in them, you wonder how you'd never seen it before.

“Don't do this.” You beg, startling when you feel his hot cock brush your inner thigh.

At the same time, the main lights flicker off, only the small auxiliary lights on the walls glow softly.

The darkness in his eyes grow, until it becomes an extension of the room.

“Just breathe, princess, this is going to hurt.”

It does at first.

Even though you've come three times so far, and he's used the hilt of his knife on you, and also his tongue to help further your wetness, his size still pinches. 

It's been a while, and you feel it in the way he stretches you open, going slow because he knows he's not an easy man to take.

But God, he feels so good.

The pain comes with double the pleasure, that makes your eyes roll back in your head, bound hands curling into fists, nails digging into your palm in an attempt to process the feeling.

He pushes the tip of his cock in, works carefully to fill you, slows down when he encounters resistance.

You take a shallow breath, coming back to your senses a little, looking up at him as he works himself into you.

He rocks his hips, encouraging your body to feel him, to welcome him in, and you have no control over it, surrendering to him easily.

He's so deep you feel it in your throat, a shuddering mess as he bottoms out, you feel tears spring to your eyes, a fullness you've been craving.

Your lips tremble, watery vision glued to the mask, you couldn't look away if you wanted to.

“Should I stop?” He asks, a minuscule tremor of his voice that gives away that he's not as unaffected as he seems.

You can't say the words, the lie too big to be voiced, but you want to keep playing despite how desperately you need him.

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding softly.

He blinks behind the mask, a tilt of his head to study you. 

Arms braced on either side of you, he leans in till the mask touches your cheek.

“That's too bad.” He murmurs.

Then, he draws out, before pressing into you once more.

You make a small sound, and then another when he does it again, the slow drag of his cock is torture, but that's the best part.

You whine, unable to speak, or voice your frustrations, but he chuckles above you, already knowing that he's not giving you what you need.

It's slow, so fucking slow and yet deep enough to create spots of black in your vision. 

He grunts above you, and the sound goes right down to your cunt, clamping around him for a second before releasing.

“Fuck.” He growls, “You're so tight. I'm going to love coming in you.”

This was it, time to be the best actress possible.

“N-no, you can't! I'm- I'm not-”

His laugh is so dark it sends shivers down your spine.

Deep and low, devastatingly malicious.

“I can’t?” He teases.

You shake your head no quickly, eyes wide in shock and fear.

He pauses his slow movements to look down at you, too enraptured to focus on two things at once.

“Who’s going to stop me, princess? You?”

You struggle against your bindings helplessly.

“It's okay, we both know you'll learn to like it.”

With those words, he resumes his slow pace.

It's not fair, barely realistic you've never had an orgasm creep up on you like this.

You don't understand, his cock is moving slow, and yet all your pleasure spots are sparking. Is it his size? Or maybe he just knows your body so well that he can force an orgasm so sweet out of you that it almost hurts.

But you can feel every spark, every short circuit of your brain, your toes curl, and your back stiffens, and the dangerous man above you draws it out, wringing each drop of pleasure before moving to the next.

“Perfect.” He whispers, almost sounding out of breath, and when your chest begins to burn, he delivers one harsh thrust of his cock that makes you topple like a house of cards.

A moan leaves your mouth on every other breath, unable to control your vocalisations, or even your breathing, clamped so tightly around him that he makes a low grunt before you feel him spill inside of you. It makes it that much better, knowing that he's hit his peak at the same time you have.

You come back to your senses slowly, his mask coming into focus.

Each breath eases the burning pleasure, replacing it with sweet euphoria, a drug like never before.

He’s panting too, trembling a little, no doubt struggling to stay upright after his first orgasm in six weeks.

And here you are, about to taunt him for it.

“Is that it?” You ask softly.

You’re a little unprepared for the way his eyes scald you.

“Is my cunt that good?” You continue to tease.

He closes his eyes, takes a slow breath to calm himself.

When he looks at you again, you know you're in a lot of trouble.

He leans away, reaches for his knife before slowly cutting the ropes free from around your ankles.

You hiss when he frees your arms, noticing that there's the impression of the rope on your wrists, you rub them as you right your legs, moving them from their previously spread state.

He watches you, and you do the same warily.

“Stand up.”

You gulp, pushing yourself onto wobbly legs, you sway for a moment, before looking over at him expectantly.

He’s still wearing the mask, but by now you’re aching to see his face, you wanted to see your husband while he did these wicked things to you.

He tilts his head toward the door, and your eyes follow the motion, not understanding until he speaks.

“Get out.”

Your head swivels back to him.

“Go, before I change my mind.”

This was another game, you realise, you’d made him mad, and he was going to show you exactly how helpless you were.

You back away, like always, keeping your eyes on his. You can feel his cum, smearing the inside of your thighs as you move. It only makes you more aroused.

You smooth your dress out anxiously, looking down at the shimmery material, and then back up at him, slowly backing away until you’re far enough that he won’t grab you from behind.

When you make it to the door, he’s still standing where he was, looking at you in the dimly lit room.

You can feel your heart in your throat with the fear of everything around you, a sinister ambience, the thrill of being chased.

Outside is dim as well.

The main lights are off. All you have to go on are the smaller lights along the walls.

You don’t get too far from the throne room before all the auxiliary lights flicker off as well.

The darkness squeezes at your heart, a shiver going down your spine. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the distinct nothingness.

The room is still, quiet around you but you can feel him everywhere. It’s like he’s the darkness surrounding you, touching your skin, depriving you of everything except himself.

It’s why you’re not surprised when you feel him at your back.

His hand reaches around, grips your throat and uses the leverage to pull you back. He isn’t gentle, squeezing at the sides harshly to ensure you’re paying attention to him, as if you could ever be distracted.

His bare hand, warm, coarse, thumb and middle finger pressed to either side of your neck. You go lightheaded at the sensation.

You feel his nose press into your hair, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear and you realise he’s taken his mask off.

“I change my mind.” He whispers darkly, laughs when you struggle.

You pull out of his grip, and you run as fast as your legs can take you.

He doesn’t chase, and you make it a good distance away, tucking your body behind a wall to catch your breath. You don’t know where you are, but you assume it’s somewhere near the front doors. The pins in your hair are uncomfortable, and you take your time tugging the little tiara out of your hair, dropping it to the floor.

You can feel his cum, making an even bigger mess, and the implications of that only succeed in heightening your arousal.

The sound of his knife, dragging against the wooden panels on the walls catch your attention. You lift your head, a tug of desire pulls below your navel.

“You know, the first time I met you, really met you, I couldn't believe you were real.” He says, his voice carrying through the quiet hallway.

“You looked at me, and you listened, and all I could think about was how to get you alone, away from that useless boyfriend of yours.”

Your lips part, head pressed to the wall, eager to hear his words, your heart drumming in your chest.

“And when you left me that night, I went back to my lonely apartment, and I found out everything I could about you. I didn’t sleep. I needed to find something to hate- something that would help me stop obsessing over a girl I’d met one time.”

His voice gets closer and you know you have to move, or else he was going to find you. 

Quietly, you kick your shoes off, abandoning them so that your steps can be quieter, you lift your skirts slowly, trying to stop the swishing sound it makes.

“You know what I found? Nothing. Nothing could make me hate you, nothing could stop what you started when you smiled at me, all of it made me want you.”

Your heart hammers even more with his words.

“And while I was trying to come up with a plan to make you mine, I’d been yours for ages.”

You stop, turning to his voice as he says that last part, wanting to go to him, to hold him, to tell him the secret you’d been keeping for weeks- that you were his too.

“Don’t fret too much about it though, princess. There’s no need to worry, I’ll feel all better once you come on my cock.”

You gasp, backing away, one hand behind you to stop you from bumping into anything. He was absolutely insane in the best way.

You can’t see a damn thing, feeling your way around to find the entrance you’d come through, your breathing is loud in your ears, you’re sure he can hear you.

You were conflicted. You wanted to run towards the scary man hiding in the darkness, though you know it would be worth your while to run away.

“You want me so bad?” You taunt into the darkness, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

Skirts in hand, you follow the first light you see- the moonlight streaming through the kitchen windows, the feel of the carpet runner helps you move in a straight line, and the next thing you know is that you’re at the foot of the stairs.

You look back, trying to make shapes out of the darkness, but there’s nothing there, you turn and begin your ascent.

You don’t know where he is, he could be two feet or two inches behind you and you wouldn’t know.

Your body is warm from the adrenaline, the dress constricts your breathing.

You stop for a second time when you find what you think is a tea room.

There’s a large wooden table sitting in front of an equally large window, the moonlight streaming in allows you to see that there’s a wall of mirrors on one side of the room. On the other side, is a smaller round table with a porcelain teapot, and other matching dishes.

“Surprise.” He says from right behind you, and you swear your heart jumps right out of your chest.

Before you can turn to look at him, your cheek is pressed to the large table, one hand behind your neck, the other pulls your skirts up.

When he has your ass exposed, his hand comes down hard on your soft flesh. You cry out.

“That’s for all your mouthing back.” He grunts, before spanking you again.

It hurts, stings so sweetly, you try to rise but his hand is firm on the spot between your neck and shoulder.

When he’s satisfied, he reaches down between your legs.

He clicks his tongue, his fingers swiping through the mess between your thighs.

“Look at the mess you made. Don't you have any kind of consideration for how hard I worked to put my cum in you?”

You feel him move, you assume to take his cock out. Your suspicions are confirmed when you feel him kick your legs wider, pressing his tip to your entrance.

You mewl helplessly when he enters you.

Stretched once more, he feels bigger in this position, his pace is harsh, fucking into you meaningfully, your eyes roll back in your head, spit slipping from past your lips as your face is kept pressed to the table.

You feel a sharp tug and your dress loosens, too pleasure drunk to figure out why.

The glide of his cock quells your urge to fight, your body sparking, electrified at the feeling of him.

He pulls you upwards, and the front of the dress sags, exposing your front to the air.

“Look at us.” He growls into your ear, turning your head to the mirror, you see your bodies reflecting back. Him, in his tight shirt and open pants, you with your beautiful shimmering dress caught between your bodies and hanging off your shoulders. It’s the first time for the night that you see his face, and your eyes are locked on how handsome he looks, hair askew, filling you with his magnificent erection.

He’d cut the back of your dress, you realise absentmindedly, your full breasts on display for him because of that, a small sound leaving your chest as he enters you again.

“We’re perfect together.” He acknowledges, you internally agree.

He presses his lips to your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror, his teeth flashing for a second before he bites you.

You cry out, the sweet burn of it only succeeds in making you want him more and more.

He doesn’t stop when you come, only slows for a moment to help you catch your breath before he continues.

“All mine now, princess.” He affirms, his hips slapping against yours, filling you till your vision blurs.

Deeper than ever, you feel his cock press securely to your cervix, eager to have him fill you with his cum.

You take a shuddering breath, so close to another orgasm, unable to think about anything with the way he feels.

Your nails claw at the table, willing your body to take him, your perfect husband, giving you just what you need. He groans above you, enjoying you almost as much as you enjoy him.

The pleasure builds, swimming in your head, worsening with each move of his cock inside of you. He holds nothing back, all of his energy is focused on filling you as hard and as fast as he can, leaving nothing behind but hot, near blistering, rapture.

You cry out when you come, body shuddering, a loud roaring in your head. He grunts loudly, following you over the edge, filling you with even more of his hot cum.

After a moment, he draws out of you, helping you stand, he gently pulls your dress off, discarding it on the ground, he reaches to scoop your swaying body into his arms.

You’re sated, unable to lift your head. You feel him rest you gently on a soft, cool bed.

The sheets are amazing on your overstimulated skin, and you peek your eyes open to watch him pull his tight fitting shirt over his head.

In the low light, your eyes find his tattoo, you smile softly as it ripples, watching him kick his shoes and pants off too, until he’s hovering above you, naked.

“You’re so gorgeous.” You whisper dreamily, raising a hand to press it to his cheek.

He lets out an air of amusement, he reaches around, gripping one of your legs to wrap it around his hip.

“Only the best for you, princess.” He hums, before you feel him push his cock into you once more.

You fall asleep to him fucking you, your adrenaline crashes after countless orgasms, and before you know it you’re out. You wake a few hours later to find him inside you once more.

You moan his name, your body still eager and receptive to him, having craved this side of him for so long.

“Messy pile of wife.” He grunts into your ear mid-thrust, “Just like I promised.”

There’s so much of his cum slipping out, you can feel it, you can’t wait for him to top you up with more.

He kisses your cheek, licks a stripe through the tears slipping from the corner of your eyes.

“Cum for me. One more time, baby.”

You gasp, nodding, head filled with cotton, floating in the clouds, lost in his essence.

You blink hazily after you feel the smooth metal plug slip in, soothing you with its coolness, arousing you with the reminder that he’s filled you to the brim.

You’re pressed against him, his hand wrapped securely around you. He stretches to reach something on the bedside table.

You’re almost asleep when you feel him slip your ring back onto your finger.

It makes you complete, eases any lingering worry.

“I love you, Billy.” You murmur, before you finally let sleep take you.

.

It wakes him up.

He blinks in shock, turning to look at you.

You’ve already fallen asleep, breaths even with your left hand pressed to his chest.

Had you really just said what he thinks you just said?

He considers shaking you awake, desperate to hear you say it again. To tell him what he’s been dreaming of for years.

What if it was a mistake? His mind asks.

His stomach drops.

What if you didn’t really mean it?

He swears he breaks his own heart in the moments after you say those four words.

He stays awake for a while, trying to memorise your words, the way you said them, the way they made him feel. He tries to learn the hour and the minute and the position of the moon in the sky at the very moment the words left your mouth.

He wonders if he’ll ever hear them again, wonders if this would be the only time in his life that you say these words to him.

If this is all he gets, he decides he’s going to cherish it.

“I love you too.” He whispers, with everything he has.

.

You’re curled up against him the next morning having breakfast when you finally take the time to examine your ring.

Your body is sore, having been fucked thoroughly, but you were a little proud to see the litany of scratches over the expanse of Billy’s back. You weren’t the only one marked last night.

You raise your hand to offer him a piece of your buttered croissant, he eagerly takes a bite.

“My ring looks the same. What did you change?” You ask, reaching for more jam.

“The inside.” He says with his mouth full.

You smile, pulling it off your finger to see what’s there. On the silver surface on the inside, you can see something engraved. At first you think it’s words, but as you bring the ring closer to your face you realise it’s numbers.

“I’m still confused.” You state.

He makes a little hum, having just swallowed his food.

“If you go to my bank, and show them this ring, and give them your fingerprint, you can withdraw from any of my personal accounts.”

You blink, your eyebrows drawing together.

After a moment you give him a confused look.

He chuckles, reaching up to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing over your tense eyebrows, encouraging them to relax.

“Any amount, little wife, any time.” He elaborates.

You blink in shock.

He was… giving you access to his money?

“Is that safe?” You ask warily.

“Planning to take all my money?” He teases.

“No! But- what if someone steals the ring… or… kidnaps me and forces me to take it?”

“That will never happen.” He promises, his fingers tightening on your cheek to reinforce his words, “As long as I’m breathing, and even if I’m not, you will always be safe.”

“You can’t stop breathing,” You fight back, leaning in to wrap your arms around him, “I won’t let you.” The words are muffled against his shirt.

He laughs.

“Noted.”

.

He grunts, his fingers curling over yours as they grip the back of the soft couch.

“Hold on.” He commands, just as he slides his amazing cock into your body.

You make a soft sound of delight, tipping your head back to rest on his chest. He groans into your ear, fucking up into you slowly and thoroughly.

His skin is hot, having spent the morning of the second day exploring the gardens outside, only to come back in and ravish you on the sitting room couch.

His left hand drops down, thick fingers find your swollen clit.

“Sing for me. Let me hear you, wife.”

You whine, the sensation of his fingers rolling over your clit makes your legs shake.

“Gonna take my cum like a good girl?” He grovels in your ear.

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding, seeing stars as he rubs your clit with more fervour.

“Fucking perfect.” He moans, and the words go right to your cunt, setting you off.

He growls in your ear when you clench around him, it only makes your orgasm last that much longer, eager to have him cum, you roll your hips on his cock.

It succeeds in working him into a frenzy, and you’re face down, with your ass in the air in the next moment.

He licks your slit harshly before his cock slides right back in, moving faster, his hips set a brutal pace, your next orgasm is like a gunshot.

He falls beside you after he comes, out of breath with a dopey grin on his face.

“What is it?” You ask curiously.

“Nothing really,” He gasps, “I just feel really fucking good.”

You smile shyly, leaning up to kiss him.

.

You’re whisking eggs for french toast when his arms wrap around you.

He presses his nose into your hair, breathing in your soft smell.

“Morning.” He grovels into your ear, feels your body shiver.

“Hello Mister Russo. Sleep okay?’

He chuckles, remembering the feel of your lips around his cock as he came last night. Fuck, you were delightfully insatiable.

“Like a rock,” He confirms, “Join me for a bath?”

“Yeah,” You agree, “Let me finish this batch and I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, little wife.” He whispers as he pulls back, reaches for an apple sitting in the basket nearby, taking a slow bite.

“I won’t. Love you.” You say absentmindedly.

Billy stops.

He turns to stare at your back in shock. You continue moving as if you haven’t said anything strange.

“What was that?” He asks.

You raise your head to glance at him.

“I’ll be right there.”

“No, the last part.”

You blink, a look of confusion on your face.

“I… love you?” 

The room goes still, the only sound is the french toast as it sizzles.

“You love me?” He asks, his heart getting heavier and lighter at an alarming rate.

“Yeah? I-I said it to you on our first night. You- you said it back.”

He did remember saying it back.

“I thought you said it accidentally.”

You pause, reaching to turn the stove off, before facing him.

“You thought my tongue slipped and I told you I loved you without meaning it?”

Billy swallows.

“I thought the number of orgasms had gotten to your head and you were saying things that might not be totally true.”

Your eyebrows raise in realisation.

“It was true. I’ve been… feeling like that for a while.”

“Like you love me.” He says dumbly.

You nod your head.

“Like I love you.” You confirm.

This wasn’t an outcome Billy had ever seen coming. Sure, he’d been hoping for fondness, that he could give you a comfortable life and you could be content by his side.

But love?

Unthought of.

“Why the fuck would you love me?” He whispers, horrified.

He’d done so many bad things, ruined your life in so many ways.

You take a careful step in his direction.

“What’s not to love? You’re smart, and strong and you go after what you want-”

“-One of those things was you.” He argues.

You laugh. He wasn’t joking.

“Yeah, how I got here wasn’t the best, but, I’m glad I am, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

He takes a step toward you, and then another, and then his arms are pulling you into a soul crushing hug.

“You love me.” He murmurs into the top of your head.

“Yes,” You reply, holding him just as tightly, “I do.”

.

“Where are we anyway?” You ask on the fourth night.

He raises his head from between your thighs.

“Europe.” He answers vaguely, before dropping his head to lap gently at your clit once more.

You smile happily, leaning back against the library desk.

“Billy?”

“Mmm?” He hums from between your thighs.

“I love you.”

You feel the breath he lets out before he pulls back. 

He kisses you, lips wet with your arousal, a tart taste on your tongue that makes you smile when he pulls away.

“I’ll show you how much I love you.” He mumbles, dropping to his knees once more.

.

Coming back to his apartment after that had felt surreal.

Like it was all a dream, the fucking best dream you’d ever had.

You’d been given a letter from your mother at the front desk, and you’d happily dropped it to the floor the minute Billy had pulled you into his arms for a slow kiss.

It was… magical, your fingers glazing through his beard, gripping his hair, the next thing you know you’re being lifted and taken to his bedroom.

The fire hadn’t left either of you, burning, sizzling sparks each time you touched, each time you held his hand or kissed his cheek.

He was all over you, inside and out, claiming you in a way you knew deep down would never be done by another.

“My wife.” He groans into your ear when he comes. 

You pant, reaching up to kiss him, legs wrapped tightly around his hips to keep him inside of you for as long as possible.

Your husband.

.

He leaves you in the early morning of the next day. It’s training day and he wants to get there early to get a jump on what he’s missed.

He kisses a path between the valley of your breasts down to your womb before he leaves, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit. You grin happily as you fall back asleep.

Later, when it’s time for you to leave for work, you find that manila envelope your mom had sent you sitting on the kitchen counter. Billy had probably picked it up from the floor where you had left it yesterday when he was leaving for work earlier.

You reach for it after you’re done hopping around to tug your heel on.

It’s unopened, so you take your time peeling it open, wondering what it was. Last time it had been a bunch of recoloured family photos, you assumed this was probably more of the same.

It’s not, it’s a stack of papers. At first, it’s odd things like flyers for bikes, and a bouncy castle rental ad. You flip through, a little concerned that your mother might be losing her mind.

Your face falls when you flip another page, and find what’s really been sent.

SUPREME COURT OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK

You could feel your heart turn to ice.

You see your name printed under Plaintiff, and under Defendant, is Billy’s. Most of your information has been filled out, including your fucking social security number. Most of Billy’s information is missing, only his real name is there.

Then you see it.

‘The grounds for dissolution of the marriage are as follows:’

Divorce papers.

These were divorce papers.

.

.

.

A/N: DON'T HURT ME THANKS

[writtenbyshama]

Memory Theatre (Sylus x Reader)

Synopsis: Y/n is a protocore researcher who is looking for answers about how an aether core got lodged into her heart and why is it messing with her brain. In the midst of this elaborate maze of dead ends and false answers, she encounters a man who seems to be very interested in her and is willing to find ways of providing her with the answers she's seeking.

Author's note: Y/n is not a hunter; she is a Master's student (not based on myself at all) and a part time protocore researcher at the Association. No changes to Sylus, although there may be situations in the story where he might be a little out of character. Mentions of the other LADS men, but they are not the love interests here.

Chapter 4: Illegal Met-Gala

A sheathed blade rasped against my thigh while I manoeuvred my motorcycle through the neon lit streets of the N109 zone.

The bike was probably not a good idea, considering that I was wearing a long gown with heels, but it was essential in case I needed to made a quick escape. Jenna’s informant had obtained the address of the auction venue after threatening two people and beating up a third; and the GPS system of my bike was leading me right into the devil’s lair, miles away from Linkon.

It was quiet here, the streets cold and empty. This area was once a hub for technological advancements and advanced protocore research. The Chronorift Catastrophe had razed it to the ground, and it was abandoned and forgotten into being a place for the black market and underground deals. It was a general area for gang-fights between rival factions until Onichynus swept into them all and made them submit. 

Under Onichynus, the N109 Zone became a shadowy predator waiting to strike at the right moment, biding its time to get its claws right on your jugular. Even the sunlight was dim here during the day, and it was so dangerous that the government could do absolutely nothing but watch. Only fools or the extraordinarily brave ventured here, and I was still undecided as to which one I was right now. 

I parked the bike in an empty parking lot a block away from the warehouse where the auction would be hosted. I climbed off the bike and secured the helmet to the handle. The harsh streetlights eclipsed almost everything except a couple of stars and sliver of moon in the night sky. A steady breeze was blowing, eliciting goosebumps on my skin underneath the silk shawl over my shoulders. I stood there for a moment, taking in the atmosphere. Shuttered storefronts and spray painted billboards. A crushed paper cup bumped into my pencil heels. The air smelled slightly of fossil fuel.

Looking at myself in the handlebar mirror, I retouched the lipstick and adjusted my hair before fixing a golden mask over my eyes. I looked like someone from the ancient stories: phantom of the opera, female version. Checking once if the weapons were strapped on to my limbs properly, I left the parking lot. 

Ten minutes to reach the warehouse. The entrance was just a normal metal door which opened into a hallway that echoed my steps. Beyond that was another door that led into a small cubical foyer with two burly looking bouncers and wooden coat racks. They scanned my invitation card and ticked my name (an alias) off on a list. Nodding at me, they opened the carved wooden doors and I stepped into a fantasy land that was the complete opposite of the abandoned hallway I had just entered through.

I stood there for a moment, taking it all in as the ornate doors closed behind me. 

I was standing on a large circular balcony that ringed the actual hall sunk into the depths below, accessible via a wide rose-coloured marble staircase. The ceiling was so high above my head that it virtually disappeared into darkness. Shiny bronze link-chains hung from above, balancing enormous candlelit chandeliers at the balcony level. The entire space was lit with candles, giving the atmosphere an intimate feel. 

Instead of directly going down, I walked to the railing and leaned against it to observe. There were about two hundred people in total, even though there was room for a thousand more. Some of them were at the balcony, taking in the sights while the rest were downstairs. The guests were in formal attire and clad in numerous masks, while the waiters and waitresses weaved through in white outfits, holding silver trays filled to the brim with food and drink. 

The sunken hall below was bisected in the middle with an enormous table that held everything from whole roasted pigs stuffed with apples to desserts that looked like mini rainbows on a plate. There was no stage, no auctioneer to announce the items for the auction and no loud bidders trying to one up each other. The only sound was music from an unseen live orchestra and hushed, almost whispered conversations. The perimeter of the hall below was lined with display cases and few people were clustered around each of them. This was no ordinary auction.

A waitress approached me with a tray. “Refreshments, miss?”

One half of the tray held multi-hued drinks and the rest were appetisers of some sort, pierced with burgundy toothpicks. I selected a drink that literally looked like melted gold, and took a minute to decide on the food. “Is there anything vegetarian here?”

She kindly pointed to the vegetarian ones and I selected a mushroom stuffed with gold-veined cheese to pair with the drink. “Thanks.”

She smiled at me and floated to the other guests. 

I took a sip of the melted gold— it tasted like fermented golden apples, very delicious. The mushroom and cheese tasted amazing and made my tongue happy. 

When I was hunting for information about Onichynus, another informant had told me that whatever project the leader of the group put his hands on, he worked on it until it was so perfect that all human beings were dazzled at the mere sight. 

He was right. This—the auction, the food, the atmosphere, it was nothing short of absolutely divine. 

I basked in that moment for a while longer, secretly eavesdropping on a conversation happening nearby while my eyes roved over the guests below. I wanted to try and see if I could spot the Onichynus leader. I looked for anyone who was turning heads and receiving head nods or bows of respect. But so far, no one matched that criteria. 

The heated discussion next to me came to a conclusion as I finished the drink in my hand. It was not professional to drink on the job, but I wasn’t a lightweight and it was that alcoholic to begin with. 

Just as I was preparing to head down the stairs to the hall below, two masked men slinked by and appeared at my flanks, subtly trapping me at the railing.

🗡️🐦‍⬛🗡️

Follow me at _writtenbyshama on Instagram for more. Happy reading!

Part 1: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[i-was-today-years-old-when]

i learned about the first paparazzi scandal in Germany.

This photograph caused a scandal in 1898. It shows former Chancellor Otto von Bismarck on his deathbed. The two paparazzi gained unauthorized access to Bismarck's residence and photographed the corpse in complete secrecy.

Otto von Bismarck died on July 30, 1898, in the presence of his family and his doctor at around 11 p.m..

Two photographers from Hamburg had already bribed Bismarck's forester in advance to keep them informed about the state of health of the sick politician. A few hours after Bismarck's death, the photographers forced their way in through a window sill and thus gained access to the dead man's bed.

One of the photographers adjusted the pillow so that the dead man's head could be seen better. They also adjusted the clock on the bedside table. In reality, it was already 4 a.m. when the picture was taken.

After the culprits had their picture retouched, they looked for a buyer through ads in a Berlin newspaper. They found a buyer who promised them 30,000 marks and a 20% share of the profits.

The present value of this sum is about €220,000.

In the end, the supposed financial blessing turned into a curse. Both photographers were arrested and sentenced to prison.

The photograph was first published in the Frankfurter Illustrierte in 1952.

[sirfrogsworth]

Most of my photos were from 2012 to 2016. I have learned a lot since then. My photo restoration hobby has improved my image editing skills in general. And I was curious if I tried editing one of my photos from scratch if I could improve upon my original edit from years ago.

This is my friend Nicole.

( @nicolebelongs I hope you don't mind being my guinea pig for this.)

This is just a direct output of the original RAW file. RAW files are typically flat by nature so you have more latitude when processing and editing.

This is my original finished edit from 2016.

I actually made a pretty big lighting mistake when shooting this photo. A beauty dish can cause harsh reflections on makeup and so Nicole's forehead bounced all that light directly into my camera. I was still learning back then and didn't know anything about makeup. All that was required was angling the dish a few degrees up or down, which feels like a pretty silly mistake all these years later.

And here is my 2023 edit. I did not reference the 2016 image until after I finished.

The main priority was the glare on the forehead, but I think this is much more balanced overall as well. I also tried to fix the weird neck shadow and the lack of light in the eyes. I probably should have used a reflector originally, but thankfully Photoshop has a solution to almost any photography blunder. I removed some vellus hairs on the edge of the face, as that is not something you would notice in real life, but the camera and lights can exaggerate them. I'd also like to say I love the new remove tool. Getting rid of flyaway hairs was such a monotonous pain in the ass before and that thing just zaps them with a click.

I am also trying to learn new editing techniques I was never good at. There is a retouching technique called "dodging & burning" that I had trouble with back in the day. Mostly because finding advanced tutorials can be difficult. Much of the content on YouTube focuses on beginner techniques.

Dodging & burning was originally innovated by Ansel Adams back in the days of film. He would block portions of his negatives for a second or two so those areas would develop darker. Or he would let sections expose longer so they would be brighter. It was basically analog Photoshop. You can see a neat video of his darkroom here.

While Ansel mostly did landscapes, portrait photographers of the digital age utilize dodging & burning to help bring out dimension in the face. It's quite similar to makeup contouring, actually. It is very hard to perfectly light every nook and cranny on a face and many portrait lenses are slightly telephoto. Longer lenses compress faces to remove distortion, but you end up losing three-dimensionality as a tradeoff.

My first attempt dodging and burning did not go well but I played with this photo for a few hours trying many different approaches and I think I landed on something I like. But I have been staring at it for way too long, so it is hard for me to look at it objectively.

I do wish we could all look at this on the same display. Green is notoriously difficult to keep consistent from screen to screen.

In any case, there are a dozen subtle things I did with my upgraded knowledge that may not be noticeable individually, but I'm hoping it all adds up to a better finished result.

And I guess we'll see if there is a consensus regarding the dodging & burning. Either good, bad, or just... different.

[pallanophblargh]

Good things: I've been invited to partake in a certain exhibit regarding a certain author since I've had the privilege of illustrating the covers for the UK edition of a certain fantasy series.

Not so good things: I've lost most of the scans for the 8 illustrations (I think I only have 3? 4?) so that means I need to figure out WHERE I stashed the originals. I know I HAVE them, so that's some comfort. But I have so many stashes. And it's been... 10+ years and two moves. On top of that, they may need retouching. Fun times!

A minor "conundrum": I finally need to decide where I would like to offer said illustrations for print. I have a society6, but it is rather dusty these days. That aside, the print quality seems pretty decent (I have not seen with my own actual eyes, but considering I've yet to hear otherwise, I'd say they go over well.) That said, if anyone has opinions/experiences on print on demand storefronts, I'd love to hear them. I'll say in advance I would prefer to not handle printing them myself. If you know, you know.

So yeah: Things! Winged horses abound, and the search for my old art begins. If you are a fan of the old Green Rider series illustrations, watch this space?

[greensagephase]

Miss girl, woman with the most powerful brain and best pacing ever—hi pookie! I have a lil question about NC that came to me mid-reread (because yes, I’m deep in my spiral).

Sooo—is Dulzura on any kind of birth control? I ask because in a couple chapters it’s shown that she has a pretty regular period (with some stronger cramps here and there), so it made me wonder if she’s on anything or not.

And (I know I’m jumping way ahead, sorry lol), if something were to happen between her and Miguel 👀, do you think he’d be okay with her using hormonal birth control? I just feel like with how much he cares about her—and knowing how science/genetics-minded he is—he might not love the idea of something hormonal messing with her system.

Or, maybe because he’s from such a futuristic universe, there are birth control methods that are way more advanced and nothing like what we have today? I remember that scene where Miguel talks about how meds (including birth control) vary across universes, and that totally supports the idea—so now my brain’s been spinning with possibilities.

Also—and I swear this is asked with so much love and zero pressure—do you have any idea when Part 23 might be coming? I just miss them a lot and NC has become such a comforting, beautiful story for me.

Thank you for writing something so tender, rich, beautiful, moving, and magnetic. NC is genuinely one of the best things I’ve read. Your storytelling, the pacing, the emotional intimacy—your work lives in my heart rent-free. It’s chef’s kiss. I truly love this fic with my whole heart. I hope you’re doing great, and sending you so much love! 🫂

Hii, pookie! Omg, this was such a sweet ask, thank you so much! Also, I love and appreciate it so much that you’re rereading NC. Thank you! I hope you’re enjoying it! 🥰💖

About Dulzura using some kind of birth control, the answer is no. She’s not on any birth control right now. From the start, this has been her situation since this is how the story began — with her having her period and Miguel showing up because he’s worried about her since she didn’t show up for work (although he lied and said it was Jess who had sent him, hehe). So from the start, it’s been in my head that no, she’s not on any birth control and hasn’t been in a long time, not since her Peter died.

I know we haven’t discussed this because it hasn’t been relevant yet due to the story’s focus on both Dulzura and Miguel healing and becoming best friends, but the way I thought about it, Dulzura was on some kind of birth control when her Peter was alive. After his death, though, it was all so dark for her, she stopped using it.

Very soon we'll actually go back to those days in which Dulzura will recall the events after Peter’s death, like his funeral and how Harry disappeared right after it. I hope to convey even more than I have how low her spirits and mentality were that in her deep grief and guilt, continuing her birth control was the last thing on her mind, so ever since then, she’s been off it.

There’s also her not being ready to be in a relationship, which influences her need for it. There’s been a few times throughout the story that she retouches on this and realizes that she’s not ready, but in the future she’s open to it as mentioned in the beach chapter. She’s going to start worrying about birth control until there’s a reason to and that will be when there’s a relationship/romance beginning. Otherwise, I don’t see Dulzura worrying about it because she’s not (in my head) the kind of person to have casual sex, which I’m not saying is bad (before anyone thinks I’m looking down on it), but it’s just the way I see Dulzura. She’s the kind to date to marry, or at least, the kind that seeks a serious, stable, and meaningful relationship before thinking about engaging in physical intimacy. Also, I know birth control is used for other reasons beyond sex, but this doesn’t apply to Dulzura since she has regular periods with average symptoms, hence why she doesn’t have the need for it.

So yeah, no birth control for Dulzura right now, but in the future she will be using some form of it!

As to Miguel, he'll be 100% aware and worried of the effects hormonal birth control could have on Dulzura’s body and due to that, be reluctant about these types of birth control. Honestly? This would still apply regardless of his background, knowledge, and interest in science and genetics because he’s educated and cares so much about her (I feel the same way about canon Miguel/ATSV Miguel. You can’t tell me he wouldn’t be the kind of man who cares about his partner’s health, period).

Since we have the multiverse at play here, though, this opens up options regarding birth control. As you’ve stated, it’s been mentioned in the story that meds, including birth control, vary across universes. I genuinely believe that Miguel's dimension is far better in the medical field, so birth control must be so much better than what we have. It may be similar to there being pills, patches, injections, etc, but I imagine that they’re more efficient and far more safer for those using it directly with minor effects, if any!

I don't know that I'll try to come up with new methods for the fic, unless something comes to me, but one thing that may be considered ‘new’ will be to make some of the different types already in existence not only safer but also inclusive, so make it possible to use for those who can impregnate as well (sorry for the weird way I may be wording this, I'm trying to be inclusive and respectful of everyone's pronouns and identities, and it's the best way I can word it right now ((:).

So yeah, I'll discuss that more in the near future, but Miguel will definitely worry about the effects on Dulzura and because of that, once this topic comes up, Miguel will be 100% respectful and mindful, and bring up the options in his dimension since in my head, Dulzura’s dimension is like ours, therefore her birth control options could be harmful — something Miguel will be aware of because he's such a nerd, I see him already knowing this information lol.

Also, if I were to make birth control inclusive (I may go for it ☺️), just know Miguel would definitely volunteer to use it himself so Dulzura doesn't have to. 🥺 I hope this answers your questions and satisfies your curiosity, pookie!

And about Part 23 for NC, thank you so much for expressing patience! It really means a lot to me that you guys are still interested in reading my fic despite my long breaks in between chapters and it being almost two years since this story started, and that you're all so patient with and understanding of me. I appreciate it so much! Right now, I'm looking at May 2nd as the update day, if all goes well!

Also, my goodness, your last paragraph made my heart so happy!! 😭 💖💕Reading you say that you miss them makes me so happy because I've missed them, too. I've been writing already, but that was the longest I had gone not writing about them — 3 months and a half — and I missed them so much. I don't know if it's weird, but I genuinely find comfort writing this story, so I'm touched that it gives you comfort, too. Genuinely, I hope it continues to do so until the very end, so I hope not to disappoint!

I'm so, so grateful that you find NC comforting and beautiful, and that you hold NC with such kind, sweet, and high regard — so much it lives in your heart rent-free. That's SO sweet of you! To think that words I put together live in your heart rent-free… I’m gonna cry! 🥹💕

Thank you so much, truly, your words made my month when I read your ask, pookie! I’m doing good, too, thank you for asking and for sending love! I hope you’re doing well, too, and I’m sending you lots of love back! Pls take care, too, and have a great week! 💖💕🫶🏼🫂

Alondra❤️

P.S. Sorry for the yapping! 😭

[regheart]

hear me out for a second, but i want you to consider sirius black going into magical paintings restauration

it would entail not only the artistic side of it, but mostly renewing or reworking the charms, which obviously requires advanced understanding of the spell work: a good reading of what magic is already there and good solutions for the problems presented

the magic present on portraits must be similar from the one present on the marauder's map, so sirius would be familiar with it and could grow an interest on it

also bears some resemblance to the charms involved in his flying motorcycle

art restauration is sort of a rich person interest, and could be something he does on the side so he doesn't get idle, depending on how you want to write him

it's a freelance job, he gets to choose who he works for

a lot of knowledge and memory is preserved on magical paintings, so his work has a positive reflection on community

dramatic irony: in the canon timeline he stabs the fat lady, but maybe he could retouch her

[clarkewayne]

Emily VanCamp as SHARON CARTER/AGENT 13 in original concepts

Celebrating Sharon Carter Month with this cruel concepts for her classical costume in the MCU!

My take for a more stylized version comes from Xenoblade actually, with the black details. Since Black Widow pretty much has donned the Agent 13 costume in her movie (let's not talk about how people called Sharon a copycat when the concept art for FaTWS appeared), I think they need to make her white suit differentiate, but not to the point of no-recognition.

(My head-cannon is that mcu!Sharon is undercover in Madripoor, and will use all the tech she has available as the Power Broker to create a very advanced and stylish bodysuit).

As for the classical costume I was actually going to do a 90/80's au concepts with Cap!Family, but tried with Emily and loved it.

I actually did those a looooong time ago, gave them a few retouches now...

[yvetteheiser]

Yvette Heiser - Enhance Your Photography with These Pro-Level Photo Editing Techniques

Photography is more than just capturing a moment—it’s about storytelling, emotion, and creativity. However, even the most well-composed shots can benefit from post-processing. Yvette Heiser Painting with Pixels: A Guide to Advanced Photo Editing Techniques explores how professional editing can elevate an ordinary image into a visually stunning masterpiece. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced photographer, mastering these pro-level editing skills will help you refine your photos and bring out their full potential.

1. Start with RAW Editing for Maximum Control

Shooting in RAW format instead of JPEG gives you more flexibility during editing. RAW files retain all the image data, allowing you to adjust exposure, color, and details without losing quality. Most professional photographers use software like Adobe Lightroom, Capture One, or Photoshop to process RAW images.

Quick Tip:

Adjust the white balance first to ensure accurate colors before making other edits.

2. Perfect the Exposure and Contrast

Even with careful shooting, exposure may need fine-tuning. Adjusting brightness, highlights, and shadows can balance an image and add depth. Contrast adjustments help differentiate between light and dark areas, making your photos pop.

Pro Tip:

Use the histogram in your editing software to ensure a well-balanced exposure without losing details in highlights or shadows.

3. Enhance Colors with Precision

Color correction and grading can completely transform the mood of an image. HSL (Hue, Saturation, and Luminance) adjustments allow you to control specific colors, making them richer or more subdued.

Best Practices:

Use split toning to add artistic color effects to highlights and shadows.

Adjust the vibrance instead of saturation for a more natural color boost.

4. Sharpen and Add Clarity for Crisp Details

Clarity and sharpness adjustments enhance textures and bring out intricate details, making your subject stand out. However, excessive sharpening can create an unnatural look, so it’s essential to find the right balance.

Quick Tip:

Use the "masking" feature in Lightroom when sharpening to apply it selectively, avoiding unnecessary noise in smooth areas like skies.

5. Remove Unwanted Elements with Retouching

Even the best photos may have distractions, such as dust spots, stray hairs, or background clutter. Tools like Clone Stamp, Healing Brush, and Content-Aware Fill in Photoshop can seamlessly remove unwanted elements without affecting the overall quality.

Pro Tip:

Use a low-opacity healing brush for subtle and natural-looking touch-ups.

6. Apply Dodging and Burning for Depth

Dodging (lightening) and burning (darkening) are classic darkroom techniques adapted to digital editing. These adjustments help shape the lighting in an image, drawing attention to important areas while adding dimension.

How to Use It:

Dodge the highlights on faces to create a soft glow.

Burn background elements to add depth and guide the viewer’s focus.

7. Use Gradient and Radial Filters for Dramatic Effects

Filters like gradients and radial adjustments help enhance specific parts of an image while keeping the rest untouched. These are particularly useful for improving skies, adding vignettes, or drawing focus to the subject.

Best Use Cases:

Apply a linear gradient to darken overexposed skies naturally.

Use a radial filter to subtly brighten the subject while keeping the edges darker.

8. Final Touch: Add a Signature Style with Presets and LUTs

Professional photographers often develop a signature look using presets (Lightroom) or LUTs (Look-Up Tables for video and photo editing). These tools speed up editing by applying predefined color and tone adjustments.

Pro Tip:

Customize presets to fit each image rather than applying them universally.

Final Thoughts

Editing is an essential part of modern photography, allowing you to refine your images and bring out their full artistic potential. Yvette Heiser, investigating the Transformative Power of Photography, highlights how post-processing can turn ordinary shots into breathtaking visual narratives. By mastering these professional-level editing techniques, you can transform your raw captures into visually stunning works of art. Whether you’re adjusting colors, enhancing sharpness, or removing distractions, the key is to maintain a natural and polished look.

Experiment with these tips and elevate your photography to the next level! Would you like any additional insights or software recommendations?

[sienasigdhaphotoretouchai]

Newborn Photo Retouching Services - Siena Sigdha

The cost of newborn photo editing services varies greatly; basic adjustments usually start at $1.50 per image, while more complex retouching might cost $2.99 or more each image. The degree of information needed and the difficulty of the adjustments will also affect this price. Certain services have tiers of price; standard and advanced packages include more revisions and source files, while basic packages give less.

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[mxtantrights]

famous dc!au (dick's version)

TRACK TWO - THOSE EYES

You get on to set ten minutes early. You had learned ettiequte from your high school teachers. Being on time was just as close to being late but being early shows dedication. That and it made sure that you had time to adjust for accidents like spilling coffee down your shirt or getting into traffic. 

When you pulled up you were escorted to a makeshift tent. You would be filming outside for the day. California Hills are the perfect place to shoot a music video. So the tent is where you would change and get retouched as the filming went on.

The first outfit actually wasn’t out of your comfort zone which you were thankful for. It was a simple pair of jeans and a knitted tank top with flowers. And they paired that with black converse. Honestly you probably have all three of these things or a variation of them at home.

Production shut down the road to traffic so you were able to walk around a bit before shooting started. It was a sight for sure. You don’t think you’ve ever stood in the middle of the road and looked into the distance before. Granted you could do that you’d just have to get insurance first to make sure you’d be ok if a car came your way.

It was nice though. A picturesque blue sky with an occasional cloud. The grass was green and not an off yellow or brown. And the backdrop of the city looked beautiful.

“Wow.” You whisper.

“I was just about to say that myself.” a voice from behind you sounds.

You don’t scare easily though. Living in a big city by yourself there are more things to be scared about than someone speaking behind you. Usually you would pay no mind but since you are literally on job you turn around to be polite. 

That’s when it happens. You look at the man who spoke to you and you think you might have a bit of dehydration coming on because there is no way Dick Grayson is the client you are working for. No way. It’s not like you lived under a rock or something. And it’s not like you disliked him.

In total fairness you’ve listened to all of his albums and have quite a few favorite songs. Have you ever been to his concerts? No way, too expensive and the waitlist for tickets was always astronomical. 

“I’m Dick,” he holds out his hand.

You take his hand into yours and introduce yourself. Then you two let go of each other. You don’t miss the tiny electrical friction that comes from letting his hand go.

“Surely you have seen greater sights than this.” you say lightly, pointing to the city view.

“Yeah, I have.” he says simply.

Before either of you can say anything else you are both called by name. Sure enough an assistant is coming your way. She has two cameras in her hands but they aren’t advanced cameras. More like those handheld ones.

She holds one out for you.

“This is your camera for the day. You’ll be shooting B-footage of Dick for the video.” she says.

You take the camera. It’s already on. You hope you don’t mess this up too badly. Sure you could take videos and pictures on your phone but they weren’t anything to hang in a museum or gallery.

“And this is for you. Same thing applies.” she speaks again. You watch as she hands over another camera to Dick. At that your stomach kind of drops. It was one thing to have to preform for one camera, but for two at the same time? And Dick Grayson is holding one of those cameras? Yeah this was all starting to hit you. 

“What is this for again?” he asks. The assistant looks at him confusedly for a moment. Then her face goes straight. 

“The two of you will be shooing b-footage that we can intertwine with the other shots. We’re going for more of a down to earth, honest vibe for this video.” she explains. 

Dick nods his head. But you know exactly why he asked. Surely he saw the look on your face as you were handed a camera. He wanted to sooth your nerves a bit. The assistant walks away and it’s just the two of you again. You look at him with a small smile.

“Thanks for that.” you say.

“Don’t worry about it.” he shrugs.

“So, are there any angles that I can’t film of you?” you ask.

“According to People Magazine? No. But I don’t mind either. Makes it more authentic that way.” he answers.

You nod along, “Okay good.”

“And obviously all the angles work for you.” he adds. “Obviously?” 

“I mean, you know you’re good looking and, well good is an understatement—oh god I’m struggling here.” he rambles.

You are shocked to say the least. Dick Grayson, the heartthrob of Hollywood is a rambling blushing mess in front of you. Was he trying to flirt? With you?

You watch as he walks off. Huh.

-

Dick didn’t want to walk away from you but he decided it would be the best course of action after fumbling like that. He’s never done that before. It’s weird. Maybe it was the nerves of not having an album ready finally getting to him.

Yeah. That had to be it.

He can’t even entertain the possibility that you had captured him this quickly. You hadn’t even held a decent conversation yet! 

“Hey so we’ll have you running up the hill first and then-“ someone starts saying.

“The song.” Dick interrupts.

“What?”

Dick looks at who’s speaking. It’s the director of his music video. A newbie, someone he doesn’t recognize. This is just making him even more nervous. 

“You need to play the song in order to establish the vibe.” Dick answers.

Then the director is snapping at one of the assistant and ushering them to find a speaker. Within a few moment the song, his song, is playing. The first few chords ring out and Dick looks over at you. You go from looking out at the city to suddenly looking over your shoulder, right at him.

Yeah, he was done for.

-

You were glad to be done with the hand-held cameras for the day. It was fun and Dick was great for the camera. He really helped you out too and was throwing jokes and really feeding into the vibe.

The song had to be one of the most romantic songs you heard in a while. His voice was amazing first and foremost. It transported you to another world. The strings were so soft and the piano and guitar just worked so well.

The last scene you were filming for the day was a bike scene. Apparently, since you were the love interest, you had to feign knowing how to ride a bike. And while you hadn’t ridden a bike in about a year you were sure you could pull off acting like you didn’t know how to ride one at all. 

You climb on the bike first. Dick is right there behind you, hand on the small of your back. 

As per the vibe of being honest and authentic the camera is already rolling on the two of you. The director is attached to a golf cart in front of you two.

You grip the handle bars of the bike. Your knuckles are probably going to turn white with how hard you’re gripping. 

“Are you good with this.” Dick asks.

You take a moment and then you look back at him. He’s still got his hand on your back. You smile a bit, and nod your head slightly. You could try to act like you don’t know how to bike ride.

“Yeah. It’s just that I know how to ride a bike.” you joke.

Dick chuckles, “when was the last time you were on one?” 

“About a year ago.” you answer.

He nods and you watch as his eyes bounce back and forth. Between you and the bike. Then he’s lightly patting your back with is hand.

“Alight let me try.” he says.

“What?” 

“Yeah, let me get on the bike.”

You’re not one to go against what your boss wants so you climb off the bike. And you hold it steady as Dick props himself on top. The seat was unisex so it wasn’t much of a hassle. 

You watch as Dick keeps one leg propped to hold himself up on the bike. The camera starts moving and so does Dick. Slowly he pedals the bike and you follow alongside of him.

“Oh wait I like this better, get on behind.” the director says.

Dick stops pedaling. You quickly move behind him and put both your feet on the two metal parts that stick out on the back wheel. You put your hands on his shoulders as he starts pedaling again.

Dick keeps a healthy distance between the cart and the bike. And he seems to enjoy himself too. He’s talking to you and joking around again. You smile down at him as he does.

[ultrone]

Just had a question, you don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to ofc. If the girls, Jackie, Lottie, Shauna, Nat, etc didn’t do Soccer, What do you think they’d be doing instead. Either other sports or clubs, whatever you think, I’m curious. Also have the loveliest day you deserve it!

JACKIE's only concern and goal would be getting chosen as prom queen, she gives me humble/himbo regina george vibes lmaoooo i feel like she’d do a lot of community service hours and force shauna to come with her so that she’s not alone. she’d be the type of girl to have more self-care items in her backpack than actual school supplies; she’d be asking everyone for a paper and a pencil on a daily basis, but would casually pull out her blush and mascara to do some retouches in the middle of class ☠️🙌🏻

SHAUNA would prolly not play any sports at all and just focus on school and extracurriculars—considering that she mentioned how she hated soccer. i feel like she’s naturally good at maths but likes writing better, or biology 🤔 if she played any other sports, i can see her playing badminton idky LMAO or volley.

NAT would spend half of the day in detention i just know it, my girl just doesn’t give a single fuck 😭 i also feel like she’d be a good drummer or bassist (i don’t think she’d have the patience to play an electric guitar, but might know a few chords on acoustic tho). i feel like she's good at history too, probably her highest grade—whether she likes the class or not.

LOTTIE would probably be class president or vice president—she's not as authoritative as tai, but i feel like she'd get chosen because she's very caring, a good leader in general and has good grades. if she didn’t do soccer i feel like she'd play tennis idky, probably cuz that's like a rich people sport lmaoooo i can see her playing volleyball too.

TAI wouldn't be class president cuz even though she's a natural leader and ended up persuing politics as an adult, something tells me that she doesn’t care much about her grades 😭 i feel like her average is 85% but a 70% doesn’t keep her up at night. i also feel like she’s terrible at drawing but would love painting in art class, she’d find it therapeutic and would actually paint cool landscapes and stuff. big bob ross fan (ironically). she’d make silly drawings of everyone; like she’d draw a stick man with a big dick and say that it’s obviously van 🤣

VAN would just stay at home scratching her balls lets be real 😭 but if she played any other sports i can see her playing basketball 🤔 i also feel like she’d be interested in film, especially the cinematography aspect of it. idky i feel like her average was a 60% LMAOO but then she improved her grades.

MISTY would run an anonymous gossip girl newspaper or something 🤣 i also feel like she’d be really good at computing or programming, not because she’s good at technology per se, but because she’s so nosy that it would be enough motivation for her to spend most of the day practicing, just so that she can stalk ppl and shit 🕵🏻‍♀️ i also feel like she’d be better at chemistry than bio.

MARI gives me silly bully vibes LMAOO she'd spend 50% of the time making fun of ppl and the other 50% judging them, she’d be a real homie to her friendgroup tho 💪🏻💯💯 i can see her taking advanced spanish every year cuz it’s her native language, so it’s an easy A—rather than learning another language and getting a lower grade. i feel like her average would either be a solid 80%, or maybe she’d actually be very competitive and get really good grades.

CRYSTAL would def do choir 😭 her friend group would be only like 3 people but everyone at school would think that she doesn’t have any friends cuz she’s very quiet during class. she’s very sweet to everyone tho so no one would hate her—but people wouldn’t notice her that much anyway.

[jsdominates]

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