#and in private my life and my body continues to fall apart and betray me

[z00r0p4]

Been progressively getting more depressed and weepy on a daily basis about the hopelessness and meaningless of my life n situation n just today realized "oh it's because I go back to school on monday" and I associate school with pain because the seats are always fucking horrible and I always have to do sooo much work and coordination with accommodations, and I have a 3 hour long class this semester that I have to take in order to graduate with my minor and I cannot sit almost anywhere for that fucking long given my health problems. So I'm going to have to probably talk to this professor and beg them to let me stream in-- which will probably not work. My spanish class is in a room with god awful seating. I have one class more than I usually do and even though its a 1 credit class it's still another hour I have to spend in pain.

So all that said, my brain is apparently so traumatized by how awful my pain has gotten in the last 2 years that it's basically triggered by just. school. Probably need some sort of cptsd diagnosis. And lots of therapy. idk guys. I hope I can actually make it to my graduation.

[love-hatred-stuff]

》genre: tiny bit of fluff(they're really in love), mainly angst

》warning(s): mentions of cheating, heartbreaking break up

》part 1

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"Babe? Baby? Hello, are you there?" Mingi's voice repeatedly called out to me.

But I was in such a shocked form I needed a while to even realise who's voice that was, the realisation hitting me hard suddenly. So hard, it felt like a bullet had hit my heart and teared it in two halfs. I didn't want to believe it in that moment because it just seemed to surreal to be true that he had betrayed our shared love, but I think he really had broken my heart that second. And it felt impossible to heal again.

Though, I wanted to break off civilized and maybe give him a chance to explain why exactly he'd been seen with another girl by my so called "friends". I'd find it stupid to be that sensitive and just cut our bond like that. Both of us wouldn't deserve it that way.

"Mingi, we need to talk. When will you be here?" I needed everything in me to control the tone of my voice and not let him know what a cry baby I was. I had avoided the word "home" on purpose, unable to think about the fact that we practically shared this apartment since we got together.

I couldn't see it, but I knew that he frowned after my words. Not sure if he should feel guilty or worried. I think probably he was more worried because he was pretty protective and attentive when it was about me, and he always knew when something was up with me or if I were just joking. Mingi could feel the tension building up in his veins. And within the next few minutes not only blood rushed through them, pure adrenalin were mixed with it, by the intense fear he felt.

"Why, baby? Is everything okay? Don't make me worried, please. I called because I wanted to tell you that I'll be with you in around ten minutes." He answered, already feeling how sweaty his hands felt on the steering wheel.

He gets home late on Saturdays and always calls me when he's on his way. Although the only thing that buzzed inside my head was, why he would make all this effort for me and our valuable relationship when he had someone else to love.

Maybe we still had hope? Or he just wanted to keep a good reputation and break up with me without me knowing he'd found another girl.

I shook my head, in order to get rid of those awful thoughts. It began hurting more and more each second that had past.

"That's good. I'll see you then. Drive safe." I ended the call. Even if he had made big mistake, I still cared for him and I didn't want him to drive home faster and have an accident just because of me.

●●Author's POV●●

Mingi didn't understand anything anymore. He was eager to know what in the dirty hell was going on and have the problem solved as fast as possible. Since he really fucking hated arguing with you or if you were mad at him.

You were everything he had, and that was the ugly truth. He had no one else, his family didn't support him in anything that he did. He had just a few friends that he could say he trusted well enough to talk about some particular things of his private life with. Though, no one could compete with you.

And he thought you knew that. But he could feel how this night wasn't going to end well for him.

...

When Mingi arrived everything was silent. And he hated this kind of silence. It wasn't only scary, it reminded him of you not talking a word with him even though you may be in the same room. It was because you were never silent, you always talked to him. There was just a few moments he had to experience where you had given him the cold shoulder. The worst thing that he could ever imagine to happen. Because he loved you, truly and dearly. With every single cell of his body. Who else would there be to love anyways?

At first he had hope and thought it was just going to be one of your warnings you gave him when he didn't do something you told him to do several times, like cleaning up his mess or taking out the trash. Just simple things, he could apologise for and do what he was supposed to do.

Mingi got rid of his jacket and shoes in a swift motion, just wanting to see your face again. Even if he was just gone for a few hours, he had missed you so goddamn much, his heart already began swelling.

And then he searched for you in the living room. So finally Mingi saw your face, but he had imagined it to look very much different. His heart sunk as he saw how red your eyes were. The tall and totally whipped man already began begging for it to be just a nightmare. He barely saw you this way and if he did, he wasn't the reason and could sing you to sleep until you were happy again, but something had him feeling like that wasn't the case this time.

"Y/n please, tell me what’s wrong. I will make it up, I promise. It will be fine." His calming voice spoke to you while he looked for any other signs in your face.

In reality he was scared, he wasn't calm, he was screaming inside, hoping for it to be just nothing. Mingi wanted to spend the rest of the day cuddling with you and fulfilling all of your little wishes. He had it planned out, so he pleaded for it to be nothing big that he had to worry about any longer. It was already enough pain he was feeling as he saw how exhausted you looked, it teared him apart.

Your eyes searched for his, looking for sincerity. And you found it, you could clearly tell how scared he was. Then you decided to speak, using all your strength to not cry out for his help.

"Mingi. I know I'm important to you. And it's okay, alright? I just want you to break up with me now and tell me the truth." You tried to be gentle, because you didn't feel like yelling at his handsome face.

You didn't wanted to see how realisation hits him. But weirdly, you really didn't. You only saw confusion.

"Baby, what do you mean "break up"? Why would I ever do that? I never thought about it and I never will. I promise you, it'll be okay, just tell me what got you so upset. Please, baby I wanna see you happy." He approached you and stood now a few inches away, using the opportunity to lay his hand on your cheek and caress it.

Mingi gave you a reassuring smile until you put his hands away from you. This small gesture pained him so much, it let his eyes get teary instantly. Why were you doing this?

"Please don't call me baby anymore. I think we should take a break or something. You don't love me enough to not think about replacing me soon." You stated and the first tears started falling.

"Why would I replace you? You don't know how much you mean to me y/n, do you? I love so much." He tried grabbing you again but you refused to have skin contact now.

"Don't do this y/n, please. You're all I have." He begged, sniffing while whiping his tears away.

"But what can I do when you found someone better than me?! I love you more than I have loved anyone else before but I don't wanna look at you while knowing you don't feel the same, Mingi!" Your voice got louder, although it was the last thing you wanted.

Now your boyfriend had completely lost his mind. The ability to think before speaking wasn’t a choice anymore, leading to words he would regret for the rest if his life time.

"Fine! I don't wanna look at your face either, I can find plenty of prettier ones!!" It took him a second before recalling and realising what he just said to you.

Mingi didn't even knew he could be this mean. But he was desperate, he was confused by the things you accused him of so suddenly. It was to much to take. And too late for him to change his choice of words.

As a wave of regret hit him, he tried holding you and apologised continuously, but for no use. You had made up your mind by then, you had to leave him. Now, not later.

And after another few minutes of him trying to explain, he could watch you leave with a little bag in your hand.

Mingi would never forget your last words: "I wished I wouldn't love but hate you."

•••~to be continued ~

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 6)

Chapter Summary: It’s time for the anticipated party.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings boytoy!Bucky, mention to casual sex, open relationship, someone catching feelings.

A/N: No smut in this one… Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

Bucky takes a sip from the whiskey in his hand and, for a glimpse of a moment, he thinks of the time he would absolutely hate the scenario around him right now, crowded with people of all imaginable sorts, loud chattering and music, dance floors flashing with bright and colorful lights. A party, but not just a party, a Tony Stark Party, filled with all of that and also the best food in the country and even better drinks. He used to loath them, until he freed himself from his own mind restraints and remembered what a party really was: an opportunity to let yourself lose, follow no rules except to have fun and, of course, meet some nice people, especially women – lots of them- to spend time with… in his bed. 

What had never crossed his mind, though, is that would come a day when he would be interested in meeting just one. And he holds his gaze on her right now. She’s there, among the sea of bodies, sipping from her drink while laughing and talking with her friends, Nat and Sharon.

Bucky can’t help the smile forming on his lips at the sight of her having her fun. As she should be…that party is all for her, after all. She looks beautiful, as usual, in a shimmery short dress and heels high enough to make a desert of his mouth. But it’s that loose laugh of hers, when her head falls a bit backwards as her shoulders shake and she puts her hand over her stomach, that makes his heart flutter inside his chest… He doesn’t even notice when his smile turns into a shuddering sigh.

He clears his throat before taking a long taste of his whiskey, hoping the strong liquor down his throat would help to put himself together. This is getting ridiculous… He needs to figure out what this huddle of… strange feelings growing inside him every time he sees or even thinks of her means… He needs to figure that shit out soon. 

“Well, well, well.”

Steve’s voice grasps his attention as his eyes advert from her to meet his friend walking closer to him.

“What’s up, punk?” Bucky doesn’t even know why but he immediately hates that little teasing smile on Steve’s face, he decides to ignore it, though.

“That’s one vision I’m not really used to. Bucky Barnes drinking all alone at a party. Where’s the mini harem that it’s usually seen surrounding you at such events?” Steve asks, not trying to disguise the playful sarcasm in his words.

“Night is only beginning, pal,” Bucky answers, putting on a cocky smile and tapping on Steve’s shoulder, using a bit more strength than usual.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve chuckles, not thoroughly convincedby the excuse, “You know, ever since Nat and I came back from the mission, I’ve been hearing some interesting speculations from some members of the team who stayed here…”

“Do I wanna hear it?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

Steve hums, “The word is out you’re just not the same anymore,” he shrugs and sips from his drink, peeking Bucky from under his eyelashes.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

 “They don’t see the usual parade of women coming and going from your apartment. Sam says there’s been one mysterious lady, though… but none of them seem to guess who.” With no hint of subtleness in him and with a teasing smirk on his lips, Steve turns his gaze to her direction across the room.

“Jesus…” Bucky huffs, shaking his head before drinking from his whiskey, “Fucking all mighty Avengers… Don’t you all have a World or two to save instead of gossiping about my private life?”

“Which was never really that private, let us be honest.”  Steve laughs.

Bucky can’t help but to let out a small laugh, too, shrugging at the incontestability of the statement. He was never one to be much discreet about his shenanigans.

“What is that exactly?” Steve insists, nodding his head in her direction, where she still talks animatedly with her friends, “I didn’t know you were, ahm, close friends with Y/n from the tech department.”

“Didn’t you walk in on us the other day?” Bucky puts on a mocking frown at him, “Do you need me to reenact it for you, pal? You know I would have no problem with that, but we’re gonna have to ask her-“

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve cuts him off, his cheeks already showing a shade of pink at the memory, “And don’t you think I didn’t notice that little stunt on movie night, too,” he adds in a chastising way, but the scowl quick breaks into a smile when Bucky laughs, “You know what I’m talking about, you’re Bucky, you love ladies, as in plural, you have loved them ever since you were a kid in the 30’s, I have to admit you’ve always been respectful in your own way, but you were never been a guy to settle for just one for longer than a night or two…” Steve follows Bucky’s gaze, which has automatically navigated towards her. He lets out a knowing hum before speaking again, “But I guess your path just hadn’t crossed with hers, yet…”

Bucky looks back at Steve, whose eyes are gleaming with something like excitement. Bucky doesn’t know exactly how the words sink into him, but he feels like he can’t just disagree, not if he’s going to be completely honest. Never has he felt the need to be with only one woman for that amount of time until… until her.  

“I mean,” Steve continues after no answer from Bucky, “I think it’s great, it was about time for you to find someone-“

 “Don’t go imagining unrealistic scenarios on your romantic little head, Punk. My name is not Steve Rogers to get off on,” a grimace twists Bucky’s face as he speaks, “Love, attachment… or any tacky sort of shit you’re into.”

Steve opens his mouth as if he were to say something, but lets out a frustrated sigh instead, pressing his lips into a taut line.  

“No, seriously, pal,” Bucky continues, in a less snapping tone, “Our, ahm, friendship is based exclusively on what you’ve seen and heard so far,” he smirks, “Sex. She had just gotten out of a long relationship and needed to get off, Nat thought of me - of course -introduced my dick to her pussy, they’ve become best of friends and here we are now,” he holds back a laugh, knowing damn well how the vulgar choice of words would make Steve’s 40’s little brain short-circuit, being the precise reason why he chose to put it that way.  

“Alright, alright, you’re just messing with me now,” Steve seems in a hurry to make his friend stop talking.

Bucky lets out the laugh he was holding and punches his friend’s shoulder, gaining a dirty look in response before resuming, “I mean… It’s nothing like you’re insinuating, she’s great and we’ve been having fun, that’s all,” Bucky adds as his gaze falls upon her again. Yeah… she’s great. And beautiful, sexy, funny, smart, kind- clearing his throat to dismiss his own betraying line of thoughts, he turns back to his friend.

“If you say so.” A small smile curls Steve’s lips, showing he’s anything but convinced. 

Goddammit, he does have a lot to figure out.  

~~~

“I knew something was up, Bucky never stays for movie nights.” Tears fill Sharon’s eyes from how hard she’s been laughing.

“I felt like a horny teenager in my parents’ home,” you resume the story you’ve been entertaining Sharon and Nat with, “Not that my teen years were that exciting,” you add with a grimace, “Far from it exactly, I was a tech nerd since I was eight, not really something that rocks teen boys’ worlds.” Bucky seems to really dig it, though, is the immediate thought that pops into your mind, but you see no reason why you should say it out loud.

“Well, it did bring you far enough,” Nat winks at you, moving her glass around the party being held to celebrate you to emphasize her point.

“Damn right,” Sharon agrees, raising her glass, which you and Nat quickly follow in a cheerful toast.

You can’t shake the smile of your lips. You wouldn’t go as far as to connect the events, but after your breakup with Eddie, it seems like you’re living another life. A new and more exciting life, both personally and professionally… That’s why it shouldn’t bother you so much that you still haven’t seen him. He said he would be there after you called to tell the news and invite him to come. But it does bother you to casually look around the party and not spotting him…

“So, it’s been like a month since this deal of yours started, right?” Nat asks, catching your attention after gulping from her customary vodka.

“Yeah,” your eyebrows furrow as you nod, “Sounds about right… and what a month, holy shitballs…” You round your eyes, letting out a puff.

“Care to share more details?” Sharon asks, wiggling her eyebrows.  

“Well…” You quickly survey the area around you and sneakily lean closer to them as they mimic you, “I had no idea what my body could do, I mean, I’ve been in positions I’ve never thought were humanly possible to perform, there’s not a day I don’t feel sore on every little inch of me, it’s a constant state by now,” you add, and the grin on your face tells how little the soreness really bothers you.

“Super soldiers…” Sharon smirks and winks before clinking her glass of champagne with yours.  

As Nat chuckles, you let out a giggle, “Yeah, I mean, my poor pussy hasn’t seen that much action her entire life.”

Nat’s jaw drops as she scoffs and turns to Sharon, “Check this out… this woman wouldn’t even say the word “sex” without choking before,” she points at you and you shrug, keeping the smile on your face. 

“That’s the Barnes effect,” Sharon comments, before turning to you, ”But wait a minute, how often you two have been keeping this encounters up?”

You take a second to think about it before answering, “Almost daily, I guess. When I don’t call him, he ends up calling me and so we go.”

“Really?” Nat asks and when you give her the confirmation, her brows snap together as a wondering “huh” slips out of her lips.   

She seems surprised by the fact you’re seeing Bucky practically every day, but you think nothing of it, “I’m sending you a whole box of this vodka you like so much, by the way.” You point at her glass, “You deserve it. I was just waiting for you to come back from that long ass mission of yours.”

He expression shifts to an amused one, “Oh, well, cheers to that,” she says before gulping down the rest of the liquid in her glass.  

“But let me ask you something,” Sharon cuts in, “You’ve been seeing him almost daily, having amazing sex with the Adonis we all have to agree Bucky is…” she looks at Natasha for support, who just nonchalantly shrugs her agreement, before turning back to you, “Don’t you think it can become a bit complicated? In the feelings area, I mean, Bucky can be pretty charming, but when it comes to commitment, well-” She tilts her head as a hint of concern is present on her voice.

Nat too focuses on you, interested in what you have as an answer.

You snort and waves dismissively at their concern, “No way. Don’t worry, you two. Neither of us are looking for such a thing. It is what it is: just sex. Bucky is amazing, I don’t think I would be able to have that sort of relationship with anyone other than him. He’s so relaxed and laid back, no games… he’s pretty clear with his intentions, which is no romance at all and that’s exactly what I need right now. We both want the exact same thing, that’s pretty clear ever since we set this deal and it’s not going to change,” you say with tranquility and firmness in your words.

“Are you sure?” Nat insists, giving you that look you know it’s all about her making sure you’re ok. “This whole idea came from me but I know Bucky for a long time, I know he’s not one to do feelings, but I’ve been worried about how you would take it.”

“Absolutely…” you guarantee “And to be honest, I know I need to work on it, I do, but when I think about a relationship, I mean, a conventional relationship, I still think of Eddie… I feel like I’m still too caught up on him to think of anyone else that way,” You shrug, pressing your lips in a line, “Bucky’s being really important to help me get through it all, though, I have to admit it.”

“Well… I’m glad.” Nat gives you a sympathetic smile, brushing a hand on your arm.

“Alright… I guess you have a boytoy, then, huh?” Sharon teases.

You laugh, before conceding with a nod, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Nat says in a quiet mumble and nods to behind your shoulder.  

Before you have the chance to turn around you hear his voice. That deep and raspy voice that usually makes your skin burn and tonight is no different, “Well, well, if it isn’t the power trio… Am I the devil by any chance?” Bucky steps beside you, narrowing his eyes at Natasha, before shooting you that captivating smile of his, the one that prompts a smile of yours to swiftly twist your lips too, “Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you answer, seizing the moment to take him over. He looks absolutely ravishing with his styled fluff hair, light scruff shadowing his jaw and beautiful eyes stuck on you, wearing an untied blue suit over a casual white t-shirt that not every man could make it work. Sharon was damn right, Bucky really is charming… too charming for his own good.

“So, talking about me, ladies?” He insists, tilting his head and focusing a piercing gaze on you, despite addressing  all three.  

There’s something about him… you just can’t stop smiling at his presence and, even worse, don’t seem to be able to tell a lie, not even an innocent one to save your ass, so you decide to take a sip of your champagne and leave it to your friends to answer the question. You guess boytoy can’t be worse than “human dildo”, like you called him before, but that has been just between you two...

“Yeah, yeah,” Sharon is the one to step in, holding back a laugh just like you, as Natasha, ever a pro, sustains a perfect poker face, “I haven’t seen Steve, yet and I was wondering if he would be with you.”

If you’ve seen a flicker of disappointment in his eyes it quickly vanishes as he turns to Sharon, “Oh, yeah, he was. Look, there he is by the bar,” Bucky points, “And you might wanna check the amount of Asgardian Liquor is being sneaked to him, the guy is already talking nonsense.”

“Oooo, Asgardian Liquor Steve is the best, I give twenty minutes before he starts summoning Mjölnir from wherever Thor is now,” Sharon’s face twinkles with excitement, “See you guys later,” she adds before rushing towards the bar and her boyfriend.

As a girl from the staff comes along and refills Nat’s glass with her special vodka, Bucky looks back at you. You smile at him but soon frowns a bit. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you and you can’t just pinpoint what it is. There’s always sheer hunger in his gazes for you that makes your spine tremble, but tonight… there’s something a bit more… introspective in it, maybe?

“So, enjoying your night?” he asks.

You brush your thoughts away to answer, “Oh, shit, yeah… This is unbelievable. I was never one to party that much, but I could get used to this.” You sign with your glass around, still marveled by the over the top event being held in your name. “Tony is out of this world.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s true, though,” Natasha comments with an exaggerated eye roll.

You chuckle before a sight behind Bucky’s shoulders catches your eye.

“Hey, I-“ Bucky starts.

“He’s here,” cutting out whatever Bucky was gonna say to you, your voice comes out in a gasp as your hands run cold and your heart races.

“Who? Tony?” Bucky asks with a grin, turning his face towards the direction you’re staring at with startled eyes.  

“Eddie,” Nat is the one who answers, pointing at the man standing alone by the entrance, seeming a little lost as he glances around.

Not you nor Natasha sees when the smile on Bucky’s face falls. When he looks back around, though, he already has a lighthearted expression put on for you.

“I should go talk to him, right?” You check, shifting looks from him to Nat. As she just shrugs, curling the corner of her lips down - and by that, expressing exactly what she thinks -  you appeal to Bucky, focusing pleading eyes on him. Deep down, you know what you wanna do, but for some reason, just needs someone to back you up. 

“Yeah-“ he clears his throat, “I mean, you invited him, haven’t you?” He tightens his lips at an attempt of a smile.

“You’re right.” You nod, biting your lips nervously and looking straight ahead,  “See you guys later.” You wave, after taking one or two deep breaths.

Your shoulder brushes against Bucky as you walk past him and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.   

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse reminds him she’s still right there and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to seeing on her face.

He lets out a deep breath, “What?” 

Natasha scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in a state of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried about the wrong person.”

~~~

To be continued.

[fullmetalscullyy]

uncertainty

summary: Riza sustains her Promised Day injuries at the same time Roy is pinned by Pride in the transmutation circle

an: tldr i was consumed by this idea all evening. the narrator, probably: this is the darkest timeline

this was originally supposed to be “riza gets her promised day injuries AFTER roy goes blind” but it evolved, grew arms and legs, then ran away from me. but. i am still v invested in that original idea so. why not play about w and write the same thing/something similar twice right? yolo

also. its been like. 4 and a half hours of work so if u see any mistakes no u didn’t <3

shoutout to those who left encouragement/interest in this idea and to meg for spurring the bradley being Bad idea along <333

rating: t | words: 3262 | tags: graphic depictions of violence, angst, angst with a happy ending, promised day, canon divergence, royai

read on ao3 

“Let him go.”

Riza orders the Fuhrer to step down, to remove his swords from the Colonel’s hands, to stop piercing his flesh. Her gun is trained on him easily and Riza discovers she has no qualms about shooting the man in charge of the country. She will not hesitate to do so if he so much as breathes in the wrong way.

After his appearance, and his assault on the Colonel, Riza had watched the tips of Bradley’s swords pierce through the Colonel’s palms, had seen them bury themselves in the gaps in the stone beneath her commanding officer. With her heart in her throat, Riza had inhaled sharply and drawn her weapon without pause, training it on Bradley’s head.

Riza’s voice didn’t betray her raging emotions within. For years – over a decade – she’d kept them under wraps for a variety of reasons. And even now, faced with this horrifying scenario, she did not let them surface. As much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t do it again. Not after her confrontation with Lust. She’d made a promise to the Colonel, and separately, in private, to Roy, not to.

“You were always an exemplary soldier, Lieutenant Hawkeye, following every order without question or complaint,” Bradley remarks. His spine straightens but does not remove his swords from the ground beneath the Colonel’s palms. He does not stop from looming over Mustang but turns his head to look at her. It’s reminiscent of a shark swimming right towards its prey, going for the kill, but Riza does not let that analogy get to her. She strengthens her grip on her pistol instead. “What has changed now?”

He’s toying with her. If she argued against any of his orders while his hostage, he’d have her killed.

A memory suddenly pops into her mind.

“You could always court martial me, sir.”

Riza’s eyes flick to quickly look down at the Colonel, lying pinned, helpless, and watching her anxiously on the floor. Mustang never would, but she misses the days where she could argue lightly against his orders and do what she felt was right and just by him and others she cared about and supported.

The doctor with the gold tooth writhes in agony above the Colonel, Bradley, and Pride, trying to call out for help and salvation, but the homunculi ignore him. Unfortunately, Riza has to as well, for she has seen how quick Bradley is and has felt the terror and harshness of Selim’s shadows, so cannot let herself slip for a second. If she does, it may cost her life. Or the Colonel’s.

“Simply doing my duty to this country and it’s citizens, sir,” she replies evenly. She holds no remorse for her actions. Not after the Fuhrer took her hostage for so long and the team discovered he was part of a scheme to try and kill everybody.

“Your duties involve following my orders, Lieutenant.”

Bradley is reminding her of her position as he trains his single eye upon her, but Riza tries her best to ignore it. It’s unnerving how piercing his gaze is, but she holds steady. She will not give into him and his intimidation.

“I am the highest authority to you. At ease, soldier.” He bites out the words, forcing them out as he tries to keep a lid on his fury.

“Not this time, sir.” She will not blindly follow his orders. Images of the desert flash inside Riza’s mind. Not again.

It angers him, but before he can react properly, Pride quite possibly saves her hide.

“We don’t have time for this, Wrath,” Pride sneers suddenly. He glares at Riza and she stares back, unflinching. She’s an expert at this by now after so many months under their scrutiny. She will not fall now at the final hurdle.

In response to Pride, Bradley angles his head towards him, looking away from her, and Riza feels herself relax momentarily. She does not turn complacent. Far for it. She’s too wired and on edge with the Colonel pinned in a transmutation circle underneath a homunculus’ feet to be close to any semblance of calm. But with Bradley’s gaze no longer pinning her, it’s a welcome reprieve. Her shoulders relax and lower a fraction.

“Enough of this conversation,” Pride continues. “We’ve got more important things to do.”

“Of course.” Bradley sounds so calm that it causes the knot inside Riza’s stomach to tighten. It’s the same knot that’s filled with unease and uncertainty regarding their current situation. It trembles and contracts as she stabilises herself and recentres her weapon so it’s ready to make a kill shot if need be.

“We have more important things to do,” Bradley repeats quietly to himself. His voice is without emotion, completely different from the rage-tinged tone he’d used just moments ago. Under his moustache, Riza sees a small smirk. One corner of his mouth quirks upwards.

In a flash, he rips the swords out of the Colonel’s palms, causing him to cry out in pain. They must have snagged on his skin because his loud gasp was laced with anguish.

Riza fires unflinchingly as Bradley charges at her.

“Lieutenant!” The Colonel’s cry is a gasp. She knows he fears for her, but she cannot focus on that right now.

Her finger does not let up on the trigger and it is relentless. She doesn’t have time to pay attention to it, but behind Bradley, Pride’s shadows dance around the room and she cannot fathom why. If she could spare enough of her concentration and tear it away from the charging homunculus, she’d realise the shadows were protecting Pride’s main body from her bullets flying behind the Fuhrer.

Bradley is too fast. He ducks underneath her weapon and outstretched arms, swinging around to her back.

Before she can blink, Riza can feel the kiss of cold metal on her throat.

Shit.

Her eyes widen, and so does the Colonel’s. His teeth are gritted together as he’s trapped in the transmutation circle, but his eyes meet hers immediately. It’s interesting to note how her own gaze zoned in on his during her sudden moment of helplessness, but Riza knows exactly why. She does not deny it to her heart.

“You’re a pest,” Bradley hisses in her ear.

The metal moves easily against her skin, like a knife moving through butter, and she hears the Colonel yell. As her body crumples to the floor he calls to her. He barks her rank, pleading with her to stay with him and focus on him. Her head hits the ground hard, and she’s dazed for a second. Her vision turns grey, and she cannot focus on anything, but still hears the Colonel calling out to her.

“Hawkeye!”

The others try to surge forward to intervene, but Pride’s shadows lash out and keep them at bay, pushing them backwards towards the outer wall. The homunculus forces them away from the two on the ground, preventing them from helping.

This is it.

She’s lying on the floor, bleeding out, with no one to assist her, and the Colonel is going to be forced to open the portal against his will.

She was supposed to watch his back and protect him. She was supposed to make sure no harm came to the Colonel so he could forge ahead and set in motion the plans he’d voiced to her over a decade ago. This was not how this was supposed to happen. Things changed in nanosecond and Riza’s brain has whiplash from trying to keep up.

“Do it, Pride.” Bradley’s anger is back under control. The bout of rage he’d experienced while advancing on her is gone. Or, it is back underneath his mask, hidden out of sight but simmering just below the surface.

Riza’s eyes meet the Colonel’s – no, Roy’s. His eyes are wide and panicked. She watches him strain against the dark tendrils holding him in place, but his struggle is futile and probably harming him. Through blurring vision she can see the colour red around his hands and up his forearm. The restraints must be cutting into his skin. Her mouth opens, asking him to remain still and not hurt himself. To not harm himself trying to escape to try and help her.

Impossible, she thinks to herself. Roy Mustang would tear the world apart for you. And you, him.

“Colonel –!” She wants to cry out to him, but with her injury it’s just a croak. A strangled, garbled call that doesn’t sound much like anything.

“Lieutenant!”

The homunculi ignore Roy’s cry, filled with such helplessness and anxiety. His expression is one of horror as their predicament hits him full force. His fight abates slightly, it stutters as his chest heaves with panicked breaths while realisation settles upon both their bones simultaneously.

They’re stuck and completely at the mercy of their enemies, with no hope of escape. No hope at all.

“It’s a shame to waste a soul,” Pride remarks quietly, sounding as though he’s talking to himself as he stares at the struggling doctor. His eyes lower lazily and focus on Riza. “When we have a perfectly good one right there.”

“Do it, Pride,” Bradley repeats, snapping this time. His mask is slipping.

Pride’s gaze lingers on her for a fraction of a second longer before turning back to look at the Colonel. His expression is unbothered by what he’s about to do. The complete opposite to the terror Riza can feel building within her.

You’re going to die, and he’s going to be forced through the gate.

“What will be taken from you Colonel, I wonder?”

Roy’s pained scream fills the air and infiltrates the gaps between her ribs. The sound cuts through her painfully, rattling her bones and constricting around her heart. She was supposed to prevent something like this from happening, but she didn’t.

Her vision fades and blurs even more intensely than before as the blue light from the human transmutation turns almost white. She cannot breathe. She cannot think.

The light winks out, leaving nothingness. The doctor falls to the ground, rolling slightly from the impact but Riza can no longer focus enough to determine what has happened to him.

You’re dying and he’s gone.

There was still a chance… A toll must be paid to pass through the gate so he may return alive, able to press on forward and achieve their goals and beat the bastards who did this to them today…

But it will be without her.

As Riza lies there, in a pool of her own blood, hearing her comrades call desperately out to her, a tear escapes from her lids and runs down her temple. She’s breaking her promise to the Colonel, to Roy. She’s leaving him, but it’s against her will, just like he had been forced through the gate against his.

She doesn’t want to leave him.

Images are flashing through his mind as he travels to the gate. It’s too much to bear inside his head. It feels like information is being stuffed into his brain far too quickly, and there’s too much. It’s overflowing. He sees snippets of his life, his past, and perhaps, what is yet to come?

Then there’s Riza, lying on the ground, clutching at her neck and lying in a pool of her own blood, but Roy blinks and she’s gone.

“Riza,” he gasps, the memory of what was done to her penetrating the fog inside his brain. It consumes him and his eyes squeeze closed. It does nothing though, it’s all he can see. It’s seared into his brain. He cannot escape the image of her dying, and him unable to help her.

The white room he suddenly finds himself in is featureless and unforgiving in its brightness. It hurts his eyes. Roy is reeling from arriving in the sudden and jarring expanse of white nothingness he finds himself in after passing through the gate, but he still squints and looks around frantically, looking for Riza, for some familiarity, momentarily forgetting himself as he’s overcome with his grief.

“What happened to her?” He demands an answer from the white being with the chilling smile. “Where is she?”

His questions go unanswered. When Roy starts to advance on it, the being simply smiles at him. After he takes about five steps, something secures around his aching wrist and jerks him backwards. Looking frantically down, wondering what is halting his approach, he realises with horror that these… things look similar to what Pride had used to restrained him before within the circle.

Not again.

“Is she okay?” His frantic cries are ignored.

Roy fights the tiny hands but there is no use. He cannot best them and it's worthless to try, but he continues to shout, beg, and pressure the smiling being to tell him what happened to Riza. To ask if she’s all right and going to live.

He has to. He needs to know.

Roy is drawn backwards, through a towering doorway, and into an inky black existence. Just like before, the last image he sees before everything goes black is chills him to his core. That white thing is still smiling at him in the distance, and for the first time since arriving there, Roy’s hoarse voice falters.

He will not receive any answers. He can yell until he is blue in the face, but no one will tell him if she’s okay, if she’s alive, or what happened to her. Terror was a constant companion after seeing Bradley’s sword slice through Riza’s flesh, but now panic was threating to overcome him once again.

Roy cannot lose her. He can’t.

The doors slam with a finality, leaving him in complete darkness that Roy gets the feeling he will never be able to escape from.

He’s blind.

The last thing he saw was Truth’s unnerving smile, and before that it was Riza on the floor, bleeding out and dying in front of him. That image was the last thing he saw in this world and it’s burned into his mind forever. It will not leave him be in his sudden pitch-black world.

He hates it. Abhors it. He wants to escape it but can’t. It’s with him always. A companion that lays out all of his failings before him. Roy chokes when he thinks about how she was left lying there, alone, critically injured, and he did nothing, could do nothing, to help or ease her pain.

Father tosses him around like a ragdoll, but Roy is still trying to adjust to being blind. He’s blinking furiously, hoping it will all turn out to be a horrible nightmare, but it’s futile. No matter how many times he blinks he cannot shift that image of her.

Is she even still alive?

He will not accept anything less.

“Sir?”

His head whips up and swings around frantically in its search. Roy thinks he may have been mistaken but… It is entirely possible his mind is playing a cruel trick on him, but he would also recognise her voice anywhere.

There’s a pressure on his forearm that commandeers his attention.

“Roy?”

The voice sounds scratchy. It catches as it pronounces the ‘y’ in his name, but Roy is filled instantly with recognition. The muscles of his face go slack as he stares wide eyed, yet unseeing, at the person he knows is in front of him.

Relief explodes within him. Muscles all over his body quiver and shake with it, and Roy cannot help himself. Every consequence, and everyone else, be damned. He surges forwards and upwards to his knees to wrap his arms – albeit clumsily – around Riza Hawkeye’s shoulders tightly.

He doesn’t even need her to confirm it. He knows it’s her by the smell of her shampoo and the faint smell of her perfume. It’s barely there underneath the smell of blood and the day’s grime, but it’s there, with him. It anchors Roy completely and tears surge into his eyelids.

“You’re alive,” he whispers.

Hands clutch desperately at his back. “I’m alive,” she confirms quietly.

Roy doesn’t care. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, and as an afterthought he realises he was lucky. It was not her injured side his face happened upon. Underneath his lips her skin is smooth and unmarked by the homunculi’s cruelty.

Roy inhales deeply and his eyes squeeze tightly closed as he savours the feeling of holding her, of knowing she is alive.

The last time he saw her, she was bleeding out. Dying. Chance, fate, or whoever, were smiling upon him today though, and Roy is grateful. He will take it. Roy doesn’t question her survival, just takes it at face value because that’s all he’s ever wanted in this last traumatic hour.

She’s alive.

Riza is alive.

His worst fear, his nightmare, had not come to pass after all, when it had seemed so likely before and he’d been left floundering, not knowing what the outcome would be.

The ‘how’ can come later. A tear escapes from beneath his closed lids and Roy simply rejoices in that fact while they have a quiet moment together. Another one follows suit when one of her hands lifts to rest upon the back of his head and pats it twice. It seems like a simple, friendly gesture, but he can feel the way the fingers of her other hand tighten their pressure upon his back. She’s still clinging to him and does not let up.

She’s alive. He can’t see her, but he can feel her touch and hear her breath.

“Are you okay?”

He wants to laugh. The joy bubbles up inside his chest when he hears the concern laced within her voice, simply because he is so happy to hear it.

Even if he cannot see her, this is enough for now.

“Are you?” He has no time to focus on himself. Not when the last time he saw her, she was so near death.

“Mei patched me up,” Riza explains, sounding hoarse.

Roy vows that owes that young alchemist a life debt. He will work until his dying breath to ensure it is paid for saving Riza’s life.

He pulls her in hurriedly for another embrace. It affirms that she is really there and breathing, and alive.

What he’s about to say is risky, but he’s in the mood for it. After what they’d just been through, Roy feeds the impulse because he needs her to know what he’s truly thinking.

Just in case.

When it came to Riza Hawkeye, his decisions always did have the tendency to be ruled by his heart, and while Riza still involved her heart completely, she was always the more level-headed and reasonable one, given their circumstances as subordinate and commanding officer.

Still, the situation called for it.

“I love you.” It’s whispered against the skin of her neck. Roy knows Riza hears him because her body stiffens with surprise.

Riza doesn’t respond until after a beat or two. It’s a simple nod, but it’s enough to know she acknowledges what he’s said. Roy doesn’t expect her to reply. They both know where they stand with one another and have done for years. The first time the sentiment had been expressed was after he returned from the academy, so this is not a shock revelation. It’s a means of comfort. A reassurance. And Roy feels it needs to be said. It’s also been a while since he’d last said those words to her, but right now it feels like it’s been too long. Another wrong in his book, but one he could correct immediately.

“I love you too, Roy.”

He blinks, surprised that she has said it back to him among the company of so many people, but they must not be paying attention to them.

Roy tightens his arms around her.

She’s alive, and she knows how he feels about her.

She knows.

They both do.

She’s okay.

That one thought eases all of his fears and leaves him feeling light, like he’s floating on air, so he buries his face into the crook of her neck once more to find an anchor.

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Twelve: You Deserve to Enjoy Your Body

By SisterSpooky1013 / Rated E

Read previous chapters here / Tagging @today-in-fic

He follows her up the stairwell that leads to her apartment. The complex has seen better days, but when she unlocks the front door he’s surprised to see that the inside is relatively nice. It’s small but tidy, which is no surprise for any place Scully inhabits, and the decor is decidedly young.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, make yourself at home,” she says, then disappears into the bathroom.

He looks around and has an odd feeling that he’s invading someone’s space. There are little trinkets on the shelves, magazines on the table, a stack of bills on the counter, but none of it is Scully. He sits down on the couch but it’s impossibly narrow and low to the ground, as though it were designed for a child. Or a child-sized woman, he supposes. The only other seating options are the table or the bed. The kind of conversation he wants to have with Scully shouldn’t take place at a dinner table, so he sits on the end of her bed, listening to the running shower. He wants to rummage through the drawers, to see the private details of her fabricated life, but he doesn’t. When the water stops running, his heart starts to race.

&&

She steps out of the shower, wiping steam off the mirror with her forearm. Desi has gone down the drain and Scully looks back at her. She frowns, feeling a sense of loss. She’s going to go back out there as Scully, and Scully is going to sidestep her way right out of having an actual conversation with Mulder, just like she always does. Tears prick at her eyes, and she remembers how it felt to be Desi, to be free. She wants to keep that part of her, but she doesn’t know how.

Just ask yourself, ‘what would Desi do?’ and then do that.

Magenta’s words echo in her head. She’s not going to let Desi go just yet.

She suddenly realizes that she hasn’t brought a change of clothes into the bathroom with her, and because it’s a studio apartment, Mulder will be just outside the door. She puts on the short black bathrobe that’s hanging on the back of the door and it hits her thighs just below her ass. She needs to at least have underwear on beneath this; it’s too revealing. Scully would go out, grab a change of clothes, and then come back in here to put them on. But what would Desi do?

She opens the door and is surprised to see Mulder sitting on the bed. His head snaps over to her and a grin blossoms on his face.

“What?” she asks self-consciously.

He shakes his head, but the smile stays. “It’s just good to see you.”

She gives him the eyebrow. “I’ve been gone for ten minutes, Mulder,” she replies dryly.

“Right, um, it’s good to see Scully is what I meant to say. You. Really you.”

Is this really her? She doesn’t want it to be. She walks over to her dresser and opens the top drawer, plucking out a pair of red panties. Her back to him, she steps into them and pulls them up under the robe. He doesn’t make a sound, but she can feel his reaction.

Staying casual so as not to betray her pounding heart, she walks over and turns on the lamp beside the bed, then flicks off the overhead light and lays down. He turns to look at her from his spot at the foot, the amber light casting him in a warm glow.

“Your couch is tiny; for a second there I thought I had fallen into Gulliver’s Travels,” he says by way of explanation.

She has the thought that it had sat her and Angel just fine, but she doesn’t tell him that. She shifts to get more comfortable and winces at her sore ribs.

“He get you pretty good?” Mulder asks, crawling up to lie on his side next to her.

Scully would tell him, but Desi would show him. Pulling her robe open beneath her breasts, she exposes the developing bruise on her belly, just below and to the left of her sternum. Mulder sucks in a little breath that she assumes is in response to how bad it looks, but when she looks at his face his eyes are trained much lower, maybe on her scar. It seems as though he’ll never be able to stop blaming himself for that.

“No broken ribs or any internal injury, thankfully,” she says, watching him look at her. “I rolled away right as he kicked me, so it wasn’t as much impact as he was shooting for.”

“How long have you had that?” he asks, and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Um...a few hours?” she offers.

“No, this,” he replies, reaching out and touching her belly ring with an index finger. She blushes.

“Um, a couple years or so. I got it after my cancer went into remission.”

“Why?” he asks, all curiosity, no judgement. He’s still fingering the ring gently and she stifles a shiver.

“I guess...I guess I wanted to decide what happened to my body for once,” she answers, and he looks at her face with some mix of pain and admiration.

“This assignment,” he says with a regretful voice, “it took that away from you again.” His hand has come to rest on her belly, his palm covering the gold hoop.

She shakes her head gently. “In some ways yes, but in other ways it was actually...kind of empowering.”

They look at each other for a beat.

“How many times did you come to see me, Mulder?”

He averts his eyes sheepishly. “Too many,” he says. “I’m sorry.” It’s clear that he counts himself among those who violated her autonomy.

“Why?” she inquires further. “Why did you come?” Her tone is all curiosity, no judgement.

He meets her eye again. “Do you want to hear the lie I told myself, or the truth?” he asks, and she knows he’ll be honest if she asks him to.

“Tell me the lie first.”

“I knew you didn’t have your weapon, because I went to your apartment and checked your gun safe. So I needed to be there to protect you, in case something happened.” He says it flatly. He’s not even trying to convince himself of that anymore.

“And what’s the truth?” She knows her voice is on the verge of trembling.

His thumb is now gently stroking the flesh of her belly, his fingers mere inches from the hem of her panties. Now seems like a good time for honesty.

“At first, I just needed to know where you were. I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing. And then once I found you, I just…” he stops and swallows, letting his eyes drift down, skirting over her chest to where his hand lies.

“What?” she encourages him, needing to know. Needing to hear it.

He turns his head abruptly, facing her again. “You looked so fucking good up there, Scully.” His pupils are huge and his breathing is quickening.

She smiles demurely. “Yeah?”

He huffs a big breath. “Yeah.”

She screws up her mouth, embarrassed by the compliment. “Thanks,” she finally says, and then they are quiet.

His hand still rests on her stomach, and he looks around the room, rather than stare at her awkwardly. She can hear the clock ticking in the living room and a horn honking somewhere nearby. This is the point where she will say how late it is, how tired she is, how early they will have to be up in the morning to continue the investigation. This is the point where she pulls open the escape catch and slips through.

What would Desi do?

She reaches up to his face, slipping her cool palms onto his stubbled cheeks. He turns to look at her, and she blinks slowly, letting her lips fall open slightly. She remembers the VIP room, and how desperate he’d been to touch her.

You deserve to enjoy your body, Angel had told her. She wants it to be true.

She pulls gently, bringing him to her. He closes the distance between them slowly, pressing his lips to hers. This is not a searing kiss, not frantic or desperate or unbridled. This is her and this is Mulder, and this is real. His kiss is tender and sweet, and he sighs deeply against her mouth with a little hum. Relief, release, finally finally finally.

She slides her tongue along his bottom lip and his body jerks a little in response, electrified and activated. A swell of confidence courses through her. Bringing one hand down from his face, she pushes the top of her robe open to reveal her bare chest, her nipples already tight with anticipation. His hand snakes up her ribcage, fluttering over the bruise and coming to rest at the spot where her underwire lies each day they work together in the office. Where sweat collects when the air conditioning in their rental car is out. Where her body becomes Her Body, and they are crossing this boundary together. Even though they already crossed it, obliterated it, when he took her into that VIP room. This feels more significant. This is real. This is them.

He trails kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck, slow and delicious. His tongue dances across her clavicle and his lips brush the skin of her chest. When he takes her nipple in his mouth, she feels it so deeply, in a place she’d forgotten existed. A place that she’d so rarely let herself go. The rough of his tongue drags across the sensitive bud and she arches into him, letting her head fall back and her eyes close.

You deserve to enjoy your body.

His mouth is back on her neck and he kisses his way up to her ear. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers huskily, and she feels a surge of arousal dampening her panties.

He gently covers her bruise with his hand, kissing her lips whisper soft, so soft it makes her ache. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and at first she thinks he means emotionally.

“You won’t, Mulder.” It would have been the same answer either way.

She laps at his mouth and he reciprocates, deepening the kiss. As with all things, he’s exploratory; tasting each corner of her mouth, changing speed and pressure, discovering what she likes. Their slow, liquid kisses are the type she hasn’t experienced since she was a teenager and kissing was all that was permissible. She’d forgotten how erotic kissing could be. But she definitely wants to do more than just kiss.

“You can touch me,” she says. Even though he already is, already has. It’s as close to a request as she can manage.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he returns, and she remembers the way his hands had flexed and his body arched, seeking contact with her.

“Yes,” she breathes, “please.”

A low moan rumbles in his chest and his hand leaves her bruise, brushing over the skin of her belly as he continues to kiss her, the featherlight touch tickling her and making her jump.

“Sorry,” he says, and she can feel his smile against her mouth.

He plays at the hem of her panties, tracing the border across her stomach, the edge at her leg until it disappears under her ass. He follows it the other direction up and over the front of her leg until it takes him between her thighs. She moves one leg aside, resting it against him, and he continues to trace the trail along the seam of her thigh and vulva, so close she’s sure he can feel the heat coming off her. Maybe even feel how wet she is. He lifts his finger and places it low, on top of her panties near her opening, and drags it up over her cotton-covered slit. When he bumps up over her clit, she makes a little sound. He does it again.

“Can I…” he grumbles into her ear, “...I want to taste you. Please.”

A throb. Whatever she had previously thought to be the sexiest sound in the world is obsolete. Fox Mulder begging to eat her pussy is it, hands down, no debate. She wants to hear him say it again.

“You want to?” she asks rhetorically, baiting him. Her breath is ragged. If she somehow talks him out of this by accident she will die.

“So bad,” he drags his teeth over her earlobe. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasized about it.”

A throb. She might come just from talking about it. “Okay,” she says, as though acquiescing.

He moves to hover over her, kissing her several more times as though he can hardly tear himself away from one area to kiss another. If only he had a second set of lips to kiss her with. He makes brief stops at her breasts and belly along his journey, sucking the gold hoop between his lips, which produces an oddly pleasurable sensation. When he’s on his knees between her thighs, he hooks his fingers into the fabric at her hips and tugs, peeling them slowly down her legs. She lifts one leg and crosses it over his body so that he can pull her panties free and toss them on the floor. When that last scrap of fabric is gone, he gently pulls her leg back over and his eyes come to rest on the one part of her body he has not yet seen. She watches him intently, the mesmerized look in his eye as he commits her pink, swollen vulva to memory. He’s looking between her legs as though the answers he’s always been searching for are right here, and he can’t believe he’s only finding them now. He licks his lips.

When he lowers his body, laying on his belly and placing his palms on the outsides of her thighs, she feels the anticipation throbbing so hard she wonders if he can actually see how much she wants him. He dips his head and she is trembling, desperate, now now now.

The sweet slip of his tongue through her folds simultaneously ignites and extinguishes her. Release on top of heightened desire. Scratching the itch while tickling forth a new one. He is tentative, trying different levels of pressure and length of strokes, licking her long from bow to stern then short just across her clit. Every single point of contact is an entire fireworks show in a millisecond, one on top of the other, and she doesn’t even realize at first that she is crying out. Moaning and panting, making so much more noise than she ever would have permitted herself to make in the past. He slips a finger inside and she feels the beginnings of an orgasm begin to take shape. He laps her in short strokes, flicking up and over her clit over and over, and every synapse in her brain is firing. He slips a second finger in and she’s there, right on the edge, ready to fall over.

“I’m gonna come,” she whines, and he groans, keeping pace and pressure, not changing a single thing.

It’s slow, so slow the way it overtakes her. Her toes curl as it creeps up her legs, wrapping around her hips and pulling her under. She reaches the crest and hangs there, clamped tight around him at the peak of pleasure for so deliciously long. Then the waves hit her, pulsing and pushing and expanding and contracting, and he keeps going. It’s so good, so fucking good that she thinks she might cry, or maybe she already is, she doesn’t know. She’s still going, still pulsing around his fingers, but now that the most intense point has passed she wants him close, she wants more.

“Mulder,” she says with a thick, dry-mouthed voice, “come here.”

He crawls up over her body, still fully clothed, and she pushes his shirt up quickly, tossing it aside before her hands go to the fly of his jeans. She can see a question pass over his eyes, a worry that it’s too much too fast. Not for him, but for her.

“I want you,” she assures him, and he helps her push his jeans and boxers off, discarding her robe when he briefly stands. Then they are both fully nude, his stiff cock nestled between her thighs.

“Please,” she begs, because she means NOW she wants him now, right now, while she’s still riding the coattails of her orgasm.

He grips his cock and slides it over her, collecting her wetness, and then slowly pushes inside. He’s perfect, big enough but not too big for her petite frame, and she hooks her legs around his buttocks, pulling him deeper.

“Fuck,” he moans, but takes the cue and begins long, firm strokes.

The new sensation of the head of his cock sliding against her insides sets off another series of little waves of pleasure and she’s not sure if she’s still coming or coming again, but it’s so damn good she doesn’t care.

“You feel so good,” she moans against his neck, and he can feel him stiffen and grow even harder in response.

“Oh my god, Scully, oh my god.” He can’t find more eloquent words than that, but she doesn’t need them. She knows.

He kisses her while he slides in and out, groaning and growing more frantic. He’s close.

“Fuck, should I...pull out or something?” he asks breathlessly, a bit late in the game but she can appreciate that he thought of it at all. She remembers the box of condoms in the bathroom, but this is Mulder. She knows he hasn’t been with anyone else, and she can’t get pregnant anyway.

“Come inside me,” she commands, and that does it. His eyes clamp shut and his breath catches. He continues thrusting into her in stony silence, a living statue until he falls apart.

Words tumble from his lips as he pours himself inside her, a stream of consciousness he isn’t even aware of while dopamine is flooding every cell of his body. “Oh my fucking god, Scully, oh my fucking god, I love you so much.” She watches his face raptly, marveling at the blissful way his eyebrows stitch and his mouth hangs as he lets go, lets himself feel good for once. He collapses, falling to the side and taking her with him so he can remain inside her, nuzzling her neck as he rides out the final dredges of pleasure.

She traces her fingers over the sweat-dampened skin of his back, feeling whatever the opposite of regret would be. She’s never been so sure that a decision she’s made was the right one as she is now. He sighs deeply and then tips his head up to look at her, a sated smile on his lips that she returns.

“Hi,” she says in her very own voice, and he gives her a squeeze at the familiar greeting.

“Hey,” he replies, and her heart swells with affection that she cannot rightfully ignore.

“I love you too,” she says, and a flash of surprise disappears from his expression as quickly as it arrived. Maybe he doesn’t realize he said it, but he knows he feels it.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna kick me out?” he asks, and she can’t be mad that he’s ruining the moment with humor. He wouldn’t be Mulder if he didn’t.

“Stay,” she replies, and reaches up to switch off the lamp. They fall asleep just like that, his sticky cum on the insides of her thighs something she’s not ready to let go of just yet.

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 2 ~Words~

Picture Source

Previously in Stories She Wrote ...

Claire ignored the jest. "So you really think I should publish my story?"

Her friend nodded excitedly. "Absolutely! You should have let me read it sooner. From what I've seen so far, you have good, solid material, and I'm convinced, when I read the rest, it will not disappoint." She stood up and smiled. "Come on, in as much as I'm all fired up after reading your story, I'm famished." She got up and left the room.

Instead of moving from her position, Claire stared at her work for a few seconds and just breathed. Although Willie and Annalise were sincere with their praises, she couldn't help but still feel nervous. This next step in her life could either turn out to be huge, or it could get her mocked out of a dream career she loved. 

Pushing aside her doubts and thinking of Jamie, she quickly compressed a copy of her story's file and sent it to him via email to read, hoping he would like her written work too

  If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

 WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL & LANGUAGE CONTENT

  Jamie walked into his cottage and was greeted by his dog Rollo and cat, Adso. He tossed his keys on the dining table as he absentmindedly rubbed his pets alternately behind the ears and scrolled through his phone. He smiled. There was an email notification from Claire and a text letting him know she would be calling after dinner. After turning on his laptop, he shrugged off his jacket, placed it on the back of his chair, and then went to the kitchen to feed his companions, thinking his own dinner would have to wait, too eager to read Claire's email. 

Feeling the chill, he put firewood onto the grate and set it alight, before making a mug of black tea and heading back to the dining table. Once there, instead of immediately opening his email, he stared at his desktop photo. It was of Claire, wearing nothing but his shirt and sitting cross-legged by the fireplace with a bowl of breakfast. Without conscious volition, he touched the picture on the screen and then brought his fingers against his lips. Miss you, Sassenach. Although work and obligations had filled his days, time seemed to go so painstakingly slow, his mind constantly wandering to her. It pained him not to have her by his side, but he knew it was a little sacrifice for what lay ahead of them.

Sighing, he opened the email. Please read and tell me what you think, love C, it said. 

After clicking on the attachment, he extracted the content and found a file with Word documents. He enlarged the first page, skimmed through the paragraphs and realised it was Claire's work. After taking a sip of his tea, he proceeded to read from the beginning.

A few paragraphs later, he was hooked. Not because Claire wrote it, but because of the beautiful marrying of emotions with words. He was instantly captivated. How could she have downplayed her talent when she had this innate gift? She once mentioned, there were talks among her peers, that editors were just frustrated authors. Weel, not this editor! he thought. But more than the mental images her storyline evoked, it was the words that moved him. It was as if he was reading a personal confession disguised in the characters she'd created and it spoked straight to his soul. He continued to read, and when he came upon a particular plot, his eyes slightly misted. 

From across the room, her gaze locked with his, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. A live wire crackled and sparked, launching showers of tiny fireworks to light every dark recess of her weary soul. 

It was always going to be like this every time she saw him, she sighed. After all these years, nothing had changed. 

In their youth, she'd believed, they were bound together, not by something tangible, but by a profound, powerful connection that is ancient and older than the planets. It was as if she'd envisioned them a million times aeons ago and the stars finally heeded and arranged for their paths to cross. 

It had started with a touch, a soft kiss, a subtle stirring of their souls, and as if by magic, their story began to write itself from thereon. His strength had been her protection, her heart, his shelter, and in each others' arms, they were home. For at one time, love between them had been powerful than the fate and deeper than a naked eye. But that was then, she reminded herself ...before he found out she was from another place and time. Out of this tragedy, which altered the course of her life, was the infinite curse she must bear alone. But she couldn't blame him. It was her fault.

As a tiny sob escaped her throat, a man bumped into her, jarringly breaking her reverie. Annoyed with herself for feeling weak, she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. And as she slowly made her way over to him, she hoped and prayed her face would not betray her emotions. There comes that significant point in life when one had to choose to either turn the page, write another book or simply close it. She chose the latter.

Jamie's heart drummed, and he puffed out a lungful of air. Settling back on his seat, he rubbed a hand over his face. He had this sudden burning urge to bundle Claire's story and gift it to the world. Why has she waited this long to pursue her dream? This is bloody insane! In each of the characters, he saw her - beautifully flawed and full of heart. She wielded words in her story as if she was tearing apart her own issues and exposing her loss and regrets, the courage and honesty so palpable, it jumped right off the screen. Och, Sassenach!

He needed more time to go through the story at a leisurely pace, so he skipped a few chapters out of mere curiosity and what he read next, made his heart rate doubled.

As soon as they were alone, she grabbed at his belt, her shaking fingers tugging the zipper. She'd waited for far too long and needed him now. Dropping down to her knees, she lowered his jeans to take him fully in her mouth, feeling him throb and jerk at her touch ...oh how she'd crave for the taste of him. She was hungry, oh so hungry, to feel his most private pulse beating against her palm. Despite the urgency she was feeling, she didn't rush as she wanted to savour every moment and taste of him.

He swallowed and realised his jeans were becoming too constricted. Ah Christ! There were only so many blows to the system a man could take and what he just read sent all the blood in his brain rushing southward so fast it nearly knocked him out of commission. Who would have thought a sex scene in a romance story could affect him so much?

He read a few more excerpts from the story, and when he eventually looked at the bottom right corner of his screen, he realised it was nearly ten. He'd been so engrossed with reading, he hadn't noticed the time. Claire was supposed to call. But maybe she's fallen asleep.

Reaching for his phone, he got up, shifted the bulging discomfort in his jeans and headed for the fridge. As his screen lit up, he tapped Claire's name and waited.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice thick and muffled, causing a sudden pulsing rush of longing in his stomach. A fog of cataclysmic lust descended, increasing the weight between his legs.

"Sassenach?" He grabbed a tin of beer, popped it open with one hand and made his way to the living room. "It's me." 

"I know." She yawned. "What time is it? Are you just coming home?"

"Ummm, no. I got yer email earlier." Smiling, he sat on the armchair and toed off a shoe. "I got caught up reading yer story, I forgot the time."

"A long day then. Sorry, I was supposed to call, but ...." He heard some rustling sound and then quiet.

He got his second shoe off and rested his feet on the coffee table. Right now, he wished he could teleport himself to Claire's side and slip in bed next to her. He'd wanted to come to London, but he'd been advised by Willie it was still too soon, and coming along could trigger his PTSD. Although the nightmares had stopped and he'd been following the meditation exercises Claire had told him to do, there were still times when panic attack got hold of him. They weren't as bad as before, but still, it was there lurking, ready to pounce at any time. He hadn't dared told his sister, Jenny, in case she nagged him to attend the therapy conducted by her friend Geneva. He knew what his sister was up to, and he wasn't about to fall for her matchmaking schemes.

He was just contemplating the merits of dropping everything and flying to London when he realised Claire had gone too quiet.

"Sassenach?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did ye just fall asleep on me?"

"Oh, umm, a little," she responded, utterly lacking in apology.

"Shall I let ye sleep? I can call again tomorrow."

"No!"

Relieved, he smiled. "So working too hard, I presume?"

"Yes," she mumbled. "Worked for seven hours straight. Then had too much food and wine, and too little fresh air. It made me drowsy afterwards. It's Willie's and Annalise's faults. They overfed me over dinner." 

"Mmm, in as much as I appreciate why ye're doing it, I dinnae want ye to become ill because of it." He heard another yawn and imagined her long, lean body stretching, her hair all wild against the pillow and her breast bare. When he realised where his mind was wandering to, he immediately put a stop to it. Christ, get a grip! With a steel will, he extinguished his filthy thoughts. "Ye should take care more of yersel', Sassenach."

"I'm fine ...honestly."

He was unconvinced but didn't push. "By the way, I read yer story. It's bloody good. No ...correction. It's great!"

"You like it!"

"I love it. Was that a story ye wrote a while ago? Or did ye write it recently?"

"A while ago," she hummed, her words muffled as if she had a pillow over the phone. 

He loved the way she sounded when sleep laced her voice. 

"Hmmm, a question ...how'd ye learn to write a sex scene like that, when ..." He needed a couple of seconds to find the right words. "...when ye were a virgin before we met."

"I might have been a virgin, but I never said I was a nun." 

He laughed out loud. It couldn't be helped. Though Claire could be shy at times, she always spoke her mind. "I'm sorry I didnae mean to laugh, Sassenach," he apologised when he finally sobered up. "It's just that ye wrote the sex part so vivid and graphic, it made me wonder how ye could have known the mechanics of lovemaking when ye were still a virgin at the time ye wrote that story."

"Well, I suppose I should confess ...before I met you, there might have been on a few occasions, that I had ..." 

"Watched porn?" 

"Yes ...but for research purposes," she said rapidly, her voice not sounding muffled anymore. She must have rolled on her back. "But what I meant to say was, I've had ...um ..." She trailed off.

He frowned. "Had what?"

"Physical contact, of course!" she replied with mild exasperation. 

Something heavy rolled over in his stomach. "Excuse me?"

She sighed. "When I use to date, dates sometimes end up in making out, kissing and petting, and I sort of got the gist of what normally happens afterwards." He heard her swallow. "I -I mean nothing happened of course ...at least, not in the biblical sense anyway. W-what I'm trying to say is, before we met ... I've never made it to the Old Testament with anyone. B-but you ... you're pretty special because you and I ...well, we're almost at the Revelations."

What the hell? She was rambling, and he realised she was becoming flustered. Her attempt to calm him down using the books of the Bible for analogy put a dent on his jealousy. He puffed out a breath. "I get it. I get it. Just do me a favour, Sassenach, will ye, huh? In the future, dinnae mention physical contact with other men ever again to me even if it's no' the biblical variety. It's bad enough we're separated, and here I am missing ye loads ..."

"Sorry, but you did ask how I knew about the mechanics of ..." she stopped and then sighed. "Let's change the subject, shall we?"

"Of course." He slugged back a mouthful of beer and placed it on the coffee table, before leaning back once more on his armchair. "We were talking about yer writing. I've read a few chapters, and I'm really enjoying it. Cannae wait to read the rest."

"I'm glad. Willie and Annalise liked it too," she replied, a smile in her voice.

"I'm not surprised. Ye should have published it a long time ago. Ye have a gift, Sassenach, one that I'm verra proud of." 

"Thank you. Writing does take a bit of time, and I needed a job while I was at it. I'm still glad I waited, though."

He shifted uncomfortably on his seat and paused, contemplating if ... "Are ye in the bedroom? Or did ye fall asleep on the couch?" 

"In my bedroom. I couldn't stand watching a movie with Willie and Annalise when all they do is snog in front of me. So I left them to it, thinking I'll rest my eyes for a few minutes before calling you. And that's when I fell asleep." Ah, the poor thing, she must have been so tired. At least she sounded a little more alert compared to earlier. "Seeing them cuddled up like that made me miss you loads," she added, huskily, "...and think of our time together."

Ah, hell! Her voice wasn't the only thing that was alert. His cock suddenly needed a wee adjustment. Again! He unzipped his jeans, purely for ease and comfort and to give himself room for a breathing space.

"You should sleep in tomorrow and get some fresh air too," he suggested, inhaling deeply through his nose as he felt the effects of the beer, reminding him he didn't have any food in his stomach.

"Definitely, I will have a sleep in." She drank something audibly and let out a sigh. "As for that fresh air, it will depend if it's raining or not. Annalise mentioned we're in for a horrendous weather tomorrow." He heard another delicate gulp.

"What are ye wearing, Sassenach?" His words came out before he could think and put a stop to it. It sounded much more sexual than he'd intended, gruff and hoarse, his dirty mind wandering to that explicit scene he read earlier.

There was a few seconds of silence. "Why?"

"Because I want to know ...if ye're warm enough."

"I'm warm enough." 

"So what are ye wearing?"

There was another moment of silence before she replied. "Oooh, I know what this is, James Fraser" she throatily laughed into his ears. "And, we are so not doing this." 

"Doing what?" he groaned, this time pulling out his cock. He couldn't deny himself any longer, when this woman on the other end of the line, rained havoc to his good sense. Running a calloused hand down the length of himself, he gave his throbbing erection a nice hard squeeze. "I'm only asking solely out of concern for yer health. It's cold, and I worry ye might catch ...umm ...pneumonia." He almost laughed out loud at his lame logic.

"Pneumonia? You don't have to worry, Jamie. It's warm in the apartment, and it doesn't take much to heat a small place,," she said with a hint of amusement. "And I'm not naked ...not totally anyway."

"Oh," he gritted, fisting his cock from the base to the head, as a blow of harsh breath escaped his mouth. He felt like a depraved, desperate man, but it couldn't be helped when his cock was so achingly stiff, and he wanted relief. No amount of wanking in the shower earlier had eased his need for her. In fact, it only intensified it.

As he continued to stroke himself, the house's interior closed in around him, the sounds of fire popping doing nothing to reduce the extreme feeling of airlessness. At this moment, as far as he was concerned, they were the only two people in the whole wide world awake, right here and right now, and he would die if he didn't get any release soon.

"I'm wearing undies," she finally said.

Allelujah! His fist tightened around his hardness, moisture seeping from its head. "Ah, Sassenach," he murmured. He imagined her, stretched out on her bed, the duvet kicked off, and how she had looked in those tiny cotton knickers. "And a pyjama top?" he muttered. 

"No," she sighed in sweet response, a slight shyness creeping in her next words. "I forgot to turn off the radiator before I went to bed. It's so warm I must have yanked off my top while sleeping." 

"Sweet Jesus!" He stilled his hand and cupped his balls, seeing her creamy breasts in his mind's eye. 

"Jamie ...what are ye doing? I mean, I think I know what you are doing. But I've never done this before," she whispered. "Maybe I should go and let you ...um ...finish your business?"

"No! Please." He closed his eyes and slumped deeper into the armchair, his feet spreading apart and his head falling back. "I need ye." 

"I ...I don't know how ..." 

"Sassenach." Saying his pet name for her was a mild distraction from the throbbing ache in his hand, as he swiped a thumb over the head of his erection and spread the moisture seeping out. "My cock is so rock hard, I think I might black the fuck out from wanting ye. Dinnae torture me by leaving me hanging."

Her breath hitched, and it was the most beautiful sound in his ears. "So you really are touching yourself?" she asked on a huffed breath.

"Jesus, Sassenach! Ye have nae idea, do ye? I wank every day and night to yer image in my head ...stroking so hard I can hardly breathe, thinking of our last night together ..." he swallowed with difficulty, his hand busy fisting himself. "It's so lonely without ye, and every waking moment is filled with thoughts of ye naked in my bed and every night ye haunt my dreams. What I would give to touch ye right now and plunge my cock between yer thighs." 

She gasped, and he wished he could feel her hot breath on his neck. "Jamie ...I don't even know what to say ... I ...this is out of my comfort zone.." 

"Touch yersel', and tell what ye're thinking," he commanded as he closed his eyes, the heels of his feet pushing against the floor and his muscles thighs tightening hard. "Have ye ever touched yersel'? Tell me." 

"Before you came along, there's been no one, and you know that," she said haughtily. "Giving myself an orgasm is the only reason why I remained a virgin for so long. I call it self-service." 

He let out a burst of pained laughter despite himself. "Ah, Christ, I'd love to kiss that smart-arsed mouth while taking ye hard ..." 

"I like it when you ..." she cut in, and he held his breath, agonisingly waiting for her to complete the sentence. "...kiss me between the legs." He heard her voice fade a little and swishing movements. "I think of you doing that when ...um, my hand is between my thighs."

"Is yer hand between yer thighs now?"

"Y-yes ..."

"Slide yer fingers in, Sassenach. And tell me ...are ye wet?"

"Yes ..." she softly moaned.

"How wet?"

"Very."

Ah, fuck!

He always thought dirty talks were arousing, but each shy admission by Claire was too bloody erotic for words, it made the already taut and strained tether of his self-control about to snap. He uttered her name with a litany of invocations to the saints, his hips shifting against the soft of his seat and his breathing becoming heavier. "Ye ken what I'll do to ye when I get to finally see ye? I'm no' letting ye out of bed," he groaned. "I'm gonnae worship that beautiful body of yers with my mouth until my lips are branded to your skin, and yer scent embedded in mine and yer taste in my mouth. Ye still have yer fingers inside ye?"

"Yes ..."

"Now imagine it's my tongue lapping ye up."

She sobbed, a whimpering sound full of longing and his heart twisted in a knot, creating a cluster that descended down to his belly and found its way to his cock, making his balls draw higher. His exhale came out like an animalistic grunt as Claire's breathing became more shallow. She gasped out his name, a soft plea that he badly wanted so much to pacify.

"Oh, sweet Lord, I want you so much, Jamie. I miss your hands on me," she whispered, her voice enveloping him, he could almost feel her breath on his heated skin. "Please don't stop talking ..."

"Ye think I could stop, Sassenach? I'd sell my soul just to hear ye come." Something told him the cries coming from Claire's mouth would ring in his head for days to come. Broken, sweet, desperate moans, interrupted by her breath hitching. Like she was drowning, just like him. "Ye miss me touching ye, is that right? Weel, let me tell ye something," he said hoarsely. "I spend every night looking at the bloody ceiling of my bedroom, envisioning yer sweet tits bouncing like wee temptations while ye ride me on my creaky bed. It hasn't creaked the way it used to, ever since ye left. And on some nights, I would lay on my tummy and grind myself against the mattress just to hear it creak and pretend it's not the bed I'm fucking," His hand went into overdrive stroking himself, fast and relentless. "But we both know we want the real thing, don't we now?"

"Yes, yes, yes," she whispered in a husky loop.

"Jesus, so sweet, my beautiful Sassenach ..." A drumming began in his head, inflicted by the raspy sound of her voice, the way her breath became laboured when he talked dirty to her. 

The pressure within him rose, and his breath came out in short, head-spinning gulps of air, his senses more heightened for knowing who the cause was for his predicament. Claire. Ah, Christ, he'd never anticipated for the possessiveness that tightened around his heart with a permanence that didn't alarm him. In fact, he'd always known, right from the beginning, she was the one for him. She was the only one who moved him to take a risk in love, to abuse his body for relief ...

"Jamie ...oh God ..."

Hissing out a wounded groan, Jamie fisted the base of his cock and pumped furiously. "I'm here, Sassenach," he whispered. "I hear ye. Always here for ye."

"I'm coming ..." she moaned. "Oh, my God ..."

His heart expanded as he listened to her, her breath shallow, his name a whisper, and he could picture her, turning and twisting against the sheets with her hand between her thighs. He was so close, it hurt. When he couldn't hold off any longer, he let go, his own orgasm coming in full force, spouting out of from his cock, seizing his body in an almost paralysing bliss. It went on forever, his seed spurting into his hand and thighs, his shouts reverberating off the walls and ceiling as the pleasure surged through him and rearranging everything in its route.

Finally spent, he slumped back on his seat, his breathing coming out in choppy waves as his chest rose and fell. After a long stretch of silence between them, he put down his phone and whipped off his shirt to clean himself up. By the time he grabbed it back and placed it against his ear, Claire's breath was calmer.

"Jamie?" There was a trace of doubt or maybe guilt in her voice.

Knowing Claire's strict Catholic upbringing in the boarding school, he didn't want her thinking what they did was wrong as it would only cheapen what they just shared. He needed to reassure her. "Sssh, Sassenach, I ken what ye're gonnae say. What happened between us was ... incredible. And ye ken, why?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Because we love each other. Ye understand?"

There was a long pause before she replied and he imagined her biting her lower lip in contemplation. "Yes," she replied eventually, her voice barely a whisper. And after waiting a few seconds more, he heard her soft snore and even breathing.

Smiling, he murmured good night and turned off the phone. He was just about to close his eyes to savour the moment when the doorbell rang, and a spooked Adso suddenly leapt onto his lap. Bloody hell! He plopped the cat down, righted his jeans and quickly got up, and as he peered through the window, he saw Mrs Fitz, the owner of the Airbnb from across the road, holding a dish in her hands.

What the ...? He opened the door. "Mrs Fitz!" The scent of freshly baked apple pie wafted from the dish she was carrying, making his stomach grumble. "It's kinda late. Is everything alright?" he asked, eyeing the aluminium covered plate. 

"Aye, son," she said, frowning, her eyes bypassing him as if she was in search of something or someone. "I saw the light, and I thought ye might like a bit of pudding ...for after tea perhaps or for breakfast. Yer lass ...Miss Beauchamp, I mean Claire is not here so I thought I'd check up on ye."

Jamie thought the older woman was acting a bit odd, the way she was trying to strain her neck to look beyond him. "Oh, Claire ...I was just on the phone with her."

Both her eyebrows arched. Then the frown on her face dissipated, replaced with a relieved smile and a reddening on her plump cheeks. "Oh, of course. I thought I heard some strange sounds. Ye must have been talking to her." She pushed the dish towards him. "Very well then, now that everything seems to be in order, I must go." Without waiting for him to reply, she whirled around and hurriedly left.

As Jamie stared at her disappearing figure, it slowly dawned on him, Mrs Fitz must have heard the sound he'd made while in the throes of self-love passion. Groaning inwardly, he realised Claire's writing studio shed wasn't the only place that needed soundproofing. If Claire was going to stay with him, he needed to soundproof the whole cottage. Bloody nosy neighbours!

  Dear Readers,

Thank you all for the positive feedback from the previous chapter - what a warm welcome from my readers. So chuffed reading the comments and seeing the kudos. Kudos right back at you, you wonderful lot!

I'll keep this short and sweet because I have heaps of things to do, but before I go, I'm sending you all my best wishes during this very odd times. Keep the good vibes rolling, ditched the negativity and most of all, take care of your health. Until next time ... X

[chibamari]

If I could love you

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Pairing(s): Dalim Tweedle x Laura [OC], Sirius Oswald x Kisa Ryujin [OC] Word Count: ca. 1900 Warnings: fluff to spice (minors DNI!), betrayal and angst Author’s Notes: To my dearest friend @iluvsexyvoltageguys as a celebration of Dalim’s route being announced! I know you’ve been waiting for him since day one girl, enjoy 💋

0:45am… What an evening, I thought as I waved goodbye to Sirius, a sleepy Kisa on his back. Ever calm and collected, he couldn’t hide his irritation when he saw Kisa chatting away with her ex-fiancé Jonah earlier. Little did he know that all she did was ask for advice. There were still some secrets uncovered, who knows what’s going to happen between those two. Tired, I closed the door of my pub. I should be happy with how well business has been ever since a certain little princess started working here, however, the copious amounts of attention that she received made the whole ordeal less amusing. Not that I could blame any of them, she was a rare beauty, this one, not only look-wise, though she certainly had her charms in that department as well, but more so her aura. The ladies that belonged to my usual clientele were show ponies - pretty, flaunting what they got, well-mannered, and so shallow it was almost sad. Sad, but enough for a little fun here and there.

Laura was a wild horse. Independent, beautiful and rough around the edges. Absolutely indomitable. Which made my mission all the more alluring - seduce the princess and make her come to the Magic tower. Make her fall for you so deeply and irrevocably that she’ll do anything to ‘save you’. I’m afraid that it was too late for that, having given up my morals and anything important to me a long time ago so I could serve the greater good. I had my own plans and was willing to use any means to achieve them, even if it meant giving up on myself and any chance at happiness.

Some days I regretted this choice, this burden I had laid upon myself. Days like this, breezy summer nights, enjoying a drink after my evening shift with a lovely lady by my side. How wonderful it would be to court you and fall in love with you without the deadly shadow that was looming over my existence alone. Would you believe me if I told you that deceiving you like this was what I would regret the most?

“Dalim, are you okay?” I felt a gentle warmth on my shoulder and I turned to be met with hazel eyes, gazing at me worriedly.

“Are you worried about me? I assure you, there’s no need.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, but it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it.”

You are far too good for me, princess.

Turning I positioned myself in front of Laura until her back hit the counter, placing my hands on either side of her, trapping her. She wasn’t afraid. You shouldn’t trust me, princess. You should run, Laura Kingsley.

“Are you sure? You might find out a thing or two that’ll make you want to run far, far away from me.” I lifted my hand and gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear. She wasn’t a shy one, but I wasn’t blind to the effect I had on her. My plan was working.

“... I’d never run from you, Dalim. And I’m not scared of you either.”

Her genuine words made my heart ache and my facade crumbled for a moment. Your eyes, princess, they tell me everything I need to know.

I carefully laid my hand upon her cheek, letting my thumb caress it gently.

“You’re so warm, princess.”

I didn’t know what overcame me when I put my arms around her small frame, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck, letting her scent engulf me. She felt so right in my arms and just for now, I wanted to pretend that this was real. I felt her arms circle around me and pull me in closer, a warm, peaceful sensation spreading throughout my entire body, giving me goosebumps.

“You too…”, she sighed contently. 

I didn’t want this moment to end and yet it did, when something happened that surprised even me, as Laura cradled my face with her soft hands and pressed her lips on mine. 

… What?

I wanted to cry, whether out of happiness or regret, I couldn’t tell. Her lips were softer than I imagined, something I’d done a hundred times or more. 

Oh Laura, you shouldn’t-

Feeling her fingers rake through my hair made me forget everything else. I gently bit her lower lip, eliciting a tiny gasp from her. I let my tongue taste her lips that she opened willingly, continuing to cautiously explore hers.

Was I still putting on a facade?

Her hands were now roaming over my body, moving from my biceps, down my sides, to my hips and-

Fuck.

I couldn’t stop the moan when her nimble fingers undid my belt. Slowly disengaging from the kiss, I breathed heavily, as I let my forehead rest on hers.

“Princess, you don’t-”

“I know, but… I want you. Do you not..?”

Oh, if you only knew.

Should I be happy that my plan succeeded? That she wanted me like this? That soon enough I could take her to Lord Amon?

No… I wasn’t happy. Not even one bit. How could I be when I had to betray the person who has come to mean the most to me?

“Of course I do.”, I hissed, as her hand sneaked her way into my trousers, grazing my growing hardness.

“Mhhmm, I can feel that.”, she smirked and grabbed me, pumped me a few times before she pulled down the layers of clothes, her body moving downwards along with them.

Oh no.

My breath caught in my throat when she pressed a kiss on the tip, a few milky drops now adorning her rosy lips. The duality of this gesture stole all reason from my mind. Her gaze met mine, and without breaking eye contact she took my pulsing hardness into her mouth all the way.

I whimpered and it spurned her own and my knees threatened to give out beneath me. My entire body shivered when her nails gently scratched down my thighs, one hand reaching up to fondle my other private parts. 

Fuck, my princess really knows what she’s doing.

A sting of jealousy interrupted my enjoyment - Has she done this with many guys? Imagining her with anyone else at all was not a pleasant thought. Who am I to judge though… I was not a saint myself, and she knew that. 

In order to have some sort of stability I gently grabbed a fistful of her hair, observing if she gave any sort of response, but she just continued, and I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. Laying my hand on her cheek, I pushed her back, forcing her to look back up at me.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, princess…”, guiding her to stand back up, I grabbed her hips and lifted her on top of the counter. Perfect.

I positioned myself between her legs, pushing them apart, giving me a great view of what was underneath that skirt… Red lace. My naughty princess. My body completely controlled by lust hoisted up her skirt, swiftly removing her damp panties.

“A little souvenir for myself if you’ll allow it.”, I brought them up to my face and took one deep breath. Delicious. Her panties found a new home in my breast pocket before my hands returned their attention to her naked legs, stroking up and down, each time a bit further upwards until I could feel the heat that her core emanated. As if pulled by an invisible force, my hand disappeared completely below her skirt, touching the velvet wetness in between.

I shivered. She wants me that much, huh? I was no stranger to female desire, but I can’t say it has ever given me the kind of confidence that it did right in this moment. God, she feels so inviting. I laid my chin on her shoulder, so she wouldn’t notice the blush that was surely spreading on my face, slowly starting to rub her, closely observing her every reaction. She gasped when I stroked over the sensitive pearl, desperately holding onto me when I increased my speed. I felt my hardness twitch at her reactions. How much I want her…

Let’s see what she does when-

“Fuck, Dalim-!”

My princess cursed when two of my fingers found their way into her. She clenched around me, sucking my fingers in and I nuzzled my face into her hair, as my other hand held the back of her head. 

I love it when you say my name, like I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.

Her tiny hands grabbed my bum and it took me everything to keep it together. But my efforts were to no avail when she pulled me closer, only to grab my wrist and take my fingers into her mouth. Her cashmere tongue swirled around my fingers and I was hypnotised by the sight.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

The question was more rhetorical than anything, because she’d never understand the extent to which she has shaken up my cursed life. My chest felt tight when I looked into her eyes, so vulnerable, so completely open with her desire… If I could only-

“Show me then.”

Without another word I grabbed her thighs, aligning myself in front of her entrance. Could I really do this? Sex never meant anything to me other than to relieve myself, maybe seduce one or another aristocratic lady into telling me the newest rumors in Cradle… But what about now? Is reaching my goal still the only reason? Then why is my heart beating so fast and why… Why do I want this to mean more for her too? I laid my lips upon hers as I slowly pushed myself inside of her. 

This is not sex, this is more. So, so much more. She moaned my name when I started to move, clinging tightly to me and I kept kissing her. Whatever happens, princess, I hope this will make you understand. Please, please understand that nothing about this is a facade. This I could never fake with you. 

Right now you are completely mine and I am yours. And I wished you always were.

Her nails dug into my back, waves of pleasure shooting through every fibre of my being and I moaned into her mouth, unable to hold back any longer. My thrusts became harder, out of rhythm and we melted into one another. Wanting her to finish before me, my fingers found my way to her clit again, rubbing her as if my life depended on it. Please, please enjoy this as much as I do.

“Please cum for me, princess-!”

Laura tightened around me and I slammed my hand on the counter, one, two final thrusts and I came undone inside of her, shaking as I held her against me, leaning on the counter.

We basked in the afterglow of our lovemaking. Yes, lovemaking, I didn’t know any other word for it. I kissed her gently, still holding her close so I could enjoy the feeling of being inside her warmth as long as possible.

“Dalim?”

“Mhm?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Oh, princess.

If I could love you… I’d be the happiest man on earth.

[jumukus]

A3! Event: Trump the Phantom Thief Episode 8 Translation

Play time! A heads up on the characters' names:

Muku: King Yuki: Q Kazunari: Ace Juza: Jack Banri: Fox Sakyo: Club

Saionji: Muku-kun, how are you doing? Are you getting seasick?

Muku: I'm doing alright, thank you. Oh, and the room is so beautiful.

Saionji: I am glad it is to your liking. We purposely built the suite rooms in a place where you can't feel the ship's motion.

I am planning to take every possible measure for the theater venue as well, though do not hesitate to let me know if you are unsatisfied with anything.

Muku: I will. Thank you.

Kazunari: Dude, not only the suite rooms are superbs, but to think we also get a whole staff to ourselves…! We can even get the beverages here as many times we like!

Yuki: True. The service is just so good it surprised me.

Sakyo: Don't get too engrossed in these service or you'll be havin' a hard time once we return to Mankai Company.

Izumi: You have a point…

Banri: I don't wanna go back.

Juza: ...I'm thirsty.

Muku: Wanna get some beverages in our rooms?

Juza: No, it's fine. Our rooms are far from here.

Azami: There's a lot of vending machines there. I think they have your favorite strawberry milk.

Juza: I'll go get it.

Muku: …

Izumi: (Today is finally our opening show. I knew it. They all seem pretty nervous because we're going to perform in a different venue.)

Juza: …

Izumi: (Juza-kun looks stiff.)

Kazunari: OK, guys! We've gotta form a circle in times like this!

Banri: Be more specific. What d'you mean by "in times like this"?

Yuki: Bet you already thought of what kind of circle you wanna do.

Kazunari: Righty right! Since our play is about phantom thieves, we all should strike a phantom thief pose!

Sakyo: The heck is that?

Kazunari: No complaining! Just follow me!

Yuki: Fine. Fine.

Juza: ...Muku, do the chant.

Muku: First things first, I'm sorry for causing you guys troubles when I was at a loss of what to do.

I don't want to give up on all the things I want to do. I've decided to do everything I can in all of them.

I'll run through until the end. Follow me, guys!

Juza: Yeah!

Kazunari: Okie!

Banri: Yea.

Q: "It's as musty as always."

Ace: "Clean it up."

Q: "How about you do it?"

Ace: "No way. Geez. This place used to be clean, wonder what happened to it."

Q: "That's because we had a clean-freak before."

Ace: "Okay. Leader, you do the cleaning."

King: "I think it's pretty clean, though."

Q: "Seriously?"

Ace: "Should've known a messy room owner like Leader would say something like that."

Q: "Anyway. Since this is the first time we gathered here after a year, that means you've already set our next target, right? Let's cut to the chase already."

King: "Our next target will be "Mermaid's Tears", a 12-carat diamond."

"It's going to be sold during an auction held at the Royal Star cruise. It's one of the event's highlights and expected to sell for 6 billion."

Ace: "Woo-hoo."

Q: "Heh. Interesting."

King: "Royal Star is currently hiring staff. Q."

Q: "Got it. That means I have to sneak in as one of their staff members, right?"

King: "Ace, get close to the ship's captain and collect information."

Ace: "Roger."

Izumi: (I expect no less from Summer Troupe. They have great teamwork. I can totally feel it.)

(Not to mention Muku-kun's King is able to unite them as a leader.)

Q: "I'm in charge of the rooms in Block A… Laundry and… Ugh. What a hassle."

"This isn't my job in the first place, after all. If that person were here--."

Crew Member: "Are you new here? You seem lost."

Q: "Yes. I don't think I can get out of this place if I lose the map."

Crew Member: "You can ask anyone if there's anything you don't understand."

Q: "Thank you."

"?"

Crew Member: "What's wrong?"

Q: "I think I saw someone over there--."

Crew Member: "But there's only a garbage can over there. Is it a ghost or something?"

Q: "Hey. Stop. I don't like it."

"Hm? A letter?"

"Could this be--I have to report to King."

King: "I'll take the Mermaid's Tears--Jack."

Ace: "Can't believe he's aiming for the same thing."

Q: "Him and King sure are compatible in a strange way."

Ace: "Even though their personalities are the exact opposite of each other."

Q: "What are we going to do now?"

Ace: "Guess we're gonna have a change of pla--."

King: "We'll continue the operation."

Q: "Come again!?"

Ace: "So you mean we're gonna compete with Jack?"

King: "I will not send out this notice. Let's call it a direct confrontation between Trump and Jack."

Q: "Whaaaat!?"

Jack: "Weird. The cops aren't on the move."

"Hm? Where's my noti--."

"It's been a while. How about a reunion? At The Mermaid's Tears' chamber. Trump."

"King, huh… It's just so like him to do something like this. Fine. Let's have a showdown."

Fox: "Here. I got what you wanted, the Royal Star's blueprint."

King: "It is indeed the blueprint."

Fox: "I got you some addition as well. This one is a lil bit pricey."

King: "Figured as much."

Fox: "What are you going to do with this information, though?"

King: "It's prohibited to poke your nose into your client's private life."

Fox: "Oops. My bad. I was curious since you rarely asked for something like this. Oh, yeah. Your master said he wanted to see you."

King: "Club? I wonder why. I'll try contacting him."

Club: "I'm comin' in."

Fox: "Speak of the devil."

King: "Long time no see."

Club: "Perfect timing. Are you free now?"

***

Club: "I'm goin' to retire soon. Take whatever you need."

King: "Retire? Are you serious?"

Club: "My body is startin' to fall apart. It's an age thing. Tell this to Ja--Oh, right. I heard you two broke up."

King: "You made it sound like we're dating. Please don't do that. He just decided to quit my group on his own."

Club: "Y'all never change. Here I thought you'd keep workin' together. That's what you call youth, I guess."

King: "To be honest with you, I'd also never thought he would betray me."

Club: "Looking at that guy, I think he's in his rebellious phase rather than betrayal."

King: "Rebellious phase?"

Club: "He's got some strong sense of rivalry, y'know? Add that with the fact that he's never won against you."

"He must be jealous of you. You're a genius, while he can only do things in a crude way."

King: "Really? I like his way of doing things, though."

Club: "That's exactly why you're hated. Oh, well. You better make up before I die."

King: "Please tell that to him too. You're going to meet him after this anyway, right?"

Club: "You're right. Guess I'm also gonna tell him directly. Both of you are my most excellent apprentices, after all."

King: "Please take this as my present for your retirement. This one is 40 years old."

Club: "You sure are well prepared."

King: "I was actually planning to use it for the celebration party, though."

"--Oh, right. If you're going to retire, please give me that. You know, the 'Venus Ring'."

Club: "I refuse."

***

Fox: "Welcome. Man, I guess we've got a lot of 'speak of the devil' moment today."

Jack: "What are you saying?"

Fox: "Nope. Forget it. Anyway, this is your requested uniform and safe."

Jack: "Thanks."

Fox: "Oh, yea. Your master said he wanted to see you. Why don't you give him a call?"

***

Jack: "Long time no see."

Club: "Hey. Is it just me or did you lose some weight?"

Jack: "What do you want to talk about?"

Club: "I'm gonna retire soon. Take whatever you need."

Jack: "Whatever you need, huh. By the way, the 'Venus Ring'..."

Club: "Y'all really have the same taste. I ain't gonna give it out. I sent it to the right place."

Jack: "By y'all… Do you mean King?"

Club: "You should just go back and regroup with him."

Jack: "I'll never go back until I win against him."

Club: "What a pig-headed kid. So? You see any chance to accomplish that?"

Jack: "I have a feeling we're finally going to settle this soon."

Club: "Heh. You seem confident."

Jack: "Because I've made arrangements ahead of time."

Club: "That's so you. You still look as gloomy as ever, though. Why don't you go soaking up the sun in some warm places in the south once in a while?"

Jack: "No--But you have a point. Maybe I'll do that once this is over."

Club: "Do that. And make up with King."

Jack: "...It depends on him."

Guard A: "Wait there."

Guard B: "This place is restricted to authorized personnel."

***

Q: "'Mermaid's Tears' has been carried away."

King: "Got it. Looks like they put it at the expected place."

Q: "How about the security? Can you unlock it?"

King: "I've already made preparation for that. We just need to see how things will turn out."

Ace: "Hey, wait a sec. Please, King."

King: "Find out the schedule for the guards' lookout."

Q: "Ugh. What a pain. Why do I have to do this…"

***

Q: "The guard will change at 1 P.M. The key will only be handed over when a substitute comes."

King: "So we need that key and the password that the captain has to unlock the door."

Q: "Ace, gain some time for us."

Ace: "Roger. Leave it to me."

Q: "Don't screw up."

***

Ace: "Hey, good work."

Guard A: "You're here sooner than I thought."

Ace: "Boss said my shift would start 30 minutes earlier since I'm always late, you see. Today I got here on time, though."

"Oh. Don't tell me you're gonna get scolded if you end your shift early? Wanna have some chat for thirty minutes then? Man, being a guard sure is easy."

"I actually want to increase my shift more, you know. But I don't reall--."

Guard A: "No, it's fine. I'll end my shift now. Bye."

Ace: "Oh. Okay, then. Bye."

***

Ace: "Mission complete. It's your turn now, King."

King: "Let's see, now. This is unexpectedy such a hassle~."

Ace: "I'm glad you seem to be having fun but please hurry up."

***

Q: "It's almost been thirty minutes."

King: "Just a little bit more…"

Q: "The guard is coming."

King: "I'm counting on you, Ace."

***

Ace: "Hey.."

Guard B: "Hm?"

Ace: "Ouch ouch ouch…"

Guard B: "What's wrong?"

Ace: "Oh, are you the substitute? Thank God. I'm starting to panic since my stomach is killing me. Good bye!"

Guard B: "Hey, wait, the key--."

Ace: "Key? Oh, right. I've gotta hand it ove--ouch ouch ouch."

Guard B: "Hey, you okay?"

Ace: "Wait a minute. Just until I calm down. Ouch ouch ouch…"

Guard B: "F-For now, just go to the toilet first."

Ace: "Don't think that's possible. I feel like it's gonna come out once I move."

Guard B: "Whaaat!?"

Ace: "Do you have some medicine or anything?"

Guard B: "No, sorry…"

Ace: "Can you bring me one from the infirmary? I'm on the edge here."

Guard B: "O-Okay! Wait a little bit!"

Ace: "King, you better open it now."

***

King: "...Weird. We may not make it."

Ace: "Come again!?"

King: "Oh, I got it. This one."

"...Nice. It opens!"

"Q, carry it out. Let's retreat."

Q: "Got it."

***

Guard B: "Hey, I have the medicine!"

Ace: "Very thanks, man. Here, your key! I'll leave the rest to you."

Guard B: "Yeah. Hope you recover soon."

King: "...This is weird. Jack didn't come in the end."

Q: "Maybe he realized it's impossible to go against phantom thieves."

King: "No. That guy…"

Police: "Freeze! We're police!"

King: "--."

Q: "!?"

Ace: "Since when!?"

King: "We're being set up. Q, throw the 'Mermaid's Tears' to the sea."

Q: "Huh!? Do you hear yourself now!?"

King: "Do it now. We'll escape the moment the police look away."

Ace: "You're lying, right!?"

King: "Quick."

Q: "You're the one who told me to do it, alright!"

Police: "H-Hey! The jewel! Pick it up, quick!"

King: "Let's go!"

Police: "Wait!"

Q: "What do we do now!? All of our hardship went to waste!"

Ace: "Our 6 billion…"

King: "That was a fake jewel Jack had prepared."

Q: "What?"

King: "Jack had stolen 'Mermaid's Tears' in advance and replaced it with a fake one."

"He was the one who snitched on us."

***

Narration: "The day before…"

Guard A: "Hey, what's wrong?"

Jack: "No, it's just… the engine…"

Guard A: "Hold on, hold on. If there's any trouble, you better do something about it or else it'll get worse later on. If we're liable for the damages…"

Jack: "There's smoke coming out!"

Guard A: "Say what!?"

Jack: "Stay away from the car!"

Guard B: "Whoa!"

Guard A: "C-Call the fire station! Wait, we gotta get the safe first!"

Guard B: "Hey, is it okay?"

Jack: "Yeah. The smoke disappeared. I found no issues with the machine too."

Guard A: "That means the safe is alright, yeah? God. Give me a break. We almost carry it away ahead of time."

***

Q: "So that's why Jack didn't show up…"

Ace: "He really got us! I already thought it was weird for the police to appear at times like that!"

Q: "Ugh. Even if the police didn't appear, Jack still won since he already got the 'Mermaid's Tears' before us."

King: "I wonder about that."

***

King: "He hasn't made any changes in his base. Well, isn't he a little careless…"

"Even his security system is so weak."

"Hm? A card?"

"'Out of respect of Master's retirement, I will hand over the victory.'"

"Don't be satisfied with second place. You could have taken measures if you know there's a chance it'll get stolen. Oh, well. I'll accept your kind offer…"

***

Jack: "..."

"He really came…"

King: "Hey."

Jack: "--ugh. Why are you still here, King?"

King: "It's been a long time, I want to renew our friendship. I even brought alcohol with me."

Jack: "This is why you're hated."

King: "But you don't hate me, do you?"

Jack: "How did you find out?"

King: "I got some information about you from Fox. It helped me understand your strategy to some extent."

Jack: "In that case, why did you fall into the trap?"

King: "Because, otherwise, you won't move forward as planned. I'll be troubled if you're on your guard."

"I could narrow down your base thanks to the location device I planned on the alcohol I gave to Club. The rest is my intuition."

Jack: "I can never bring myself to like you in the end."

King: "Now, now. Let's have a toast for the 'Mermaid's Tears'. Q and Ace are waiting."

Izumi: (This is the only scene where Jack and King talk face to face. Even so, you can tell how close they are just by watching this scene alone.)

(Maybe because they are cousins, they can create a unique relationship between rivals who understand each other the most.)

***

Muku: Thank you so much!

Juza: Thank you.

Sakyo: Thank you.

Yuki: Thank you.

Kazunari: Thankies thankies~!

Banri: Thank you.

***

Sakyo: The audience's reaction on our first show is great.

Juza: King was so cool.

Muku: Jack was even cooler! The fact that he's active behind the scenes is just so Juchan!

Juza: I can also feel the gap between King, a sharp person with a gentle look, and you, Muku.

Muku: I-Is that so? Ehehe. But your Jack…

Azami: They're going to be like that forever at this rate.

Yuki: When are you going to stop?

Banri: But well, it was good overall. Right?

Kazunari: Totally! Their chemistry was just perfect on the stage, even the audience was pleased!

Izumi: Let's keep this energy until the closing show!

Muku: Yes!

< Episode 7 | Masterlist | Episode 9 >

[asteriismos]

politics - jacob thrombey

authors note : pls listen to ‘tear you apart’ by she wants revenge while reading this literally. I hope this is at least consistent i did not proofread.

warning(s) : smut, swearing, degrading stuff

words : 3.4k

summary : you’re the liberal, bernie sanders lover at your prep school and jacob is the conservative nazi. the day of your schools political rally each of you finally get rid of that underlaying tension between you two. 

“and oh my god he does this thing with his tongue and it just-”

“jesus, holly, we’re supposed to be talking about the rally,” you said to your friend, giving her daggers when you glanced at her. it was a day until the rally your private school, buxton prep, had every four years for the presidency. 

in usual democratic, liberal fasion, you were rallying for bernie sanders. since you were a senior this year you got to run the whole project, which was obviously more work than you thought it would be, but then again it would look good on college applications. it also got you out of going to the boring classes you didn’t want to go to. all you had to do was raise your hand and say you needed to do something for the rally, and the teacher would dismiss you like it was nothing. 

when you were a little freshman four years ago during the previous election, you were a part of the democratic team as well. though at that time you were just a little fourteen year old, so the seniors and juniors basically made you their lackey. you got coffee for them, baked so many cookies, and went on too many food runs you lost track of the number. you also made so many signs your fingers bled from the amount of paper cuts you got. 

overall, you were very happy that you didn’t have to do that this year. call it hazing, but it made sense that the freshman were tasked with doing all that stuff. 

at your school, which was too preppy it made rival schools want to throw up, the freshman were at the bottom of the food chain. and you had worked really hard to be the senior that you were now. you were popular, always having a group of lackeys, and had one of the best grades in your entire class. 

“. . . sorry y/n, but i am working, look at these signs,” holly said, holding up the sign she was working on. it was a nice sign. holly was purposely tasked with doing the designs because she wanted to be an art major, and she was just a sophomore so you didn’t feel bad about telling her she needed to make fifty. 

you gave her a feigning proud smile, nodding your head. “okay, whatever you say. who are you talking about anyways?”

holly looked up from her work, a blush splaying across her face. “no one, don’t worry about it, it was a one time thing.” 

her eyes, however, gave it away. they looked past you and right at the group of boys who you despised. well, some of them were good, but they were led by someone who you fucking hated it made your blood boil.

dressed in the boys uniform of your school, a dark blue sweater with a white collar popped out and black dress pants, was jacob thrombey. he was talking to some of the other boys in the senior class, motioning with his hands while he talked expressively. you looked back at holly with wide eyes, realizing that jacob was the person that she had been talking about. 

“you did not sleep with jacob thrombey,” you said, mouth agape with shock. 

holly laughed nervously. “like i said, it was a one time thing! it was at that party you said you were going to go with the group to and you never showed up. i was horny i don’t know.” 

“oh, that party, right,” you said with a shrug. you said that you would meet your group of friends at the party that colin ( another boy of the thrombey group ) was hosting this past weekend. but then the more you thought about it, the more you didn’t want to go because getting wasted on a saturday night and possibly ending up in bed with anyone from that group did not sound like a fun time. plus you wanted to take a bath and watch netflix, have a little relaxing night. “still . . . sleeping with the enemy?”

you tuned out holly’s excuses, instead searching your bag for the flyers that you thought you had put in there that you printed in the library earlier. they weren’t there, you probably just forgot to take them and left them in the library by the printer. you groaned, excusing yourself from the group and walking out of the cafeteria. 

your black dress shoes clanked against the smooth tile of the hallway. you anxiously pulled down your dark blue and black checkered skirt so that nothing you didn’t want showing was showing. the skirts were already short enough, which was a little sexist on the schools part, but it was your uniform. there was nothing that you could really do about it. 

the library was unlocked, thank god. you turned the lights on and walked in, making your way to the back to the printers. once you got there you saw your flyers sitting there where they had been left by you in second period. 

soft footsteps echoed closer to you and you turned around, seeing jacob walking over to the printers, phone in hand. suddenly the other printer next to you started up, signaling that he was printing something too. probably his own posters. 

“hey y/n,” he greeted, glancing at you and then leaning against the table, fingers tapping against the wood. 

you scoffed. “thrombey. following me?”

“no, I know this is going to be a dent in your little rich girl complex, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. i’m printing stuff for the rally,” he replied. of course he was.

jacob was running the donald trump campaign for the rally. making you hate him even more than you already did. the way that he acted like no one else in the world mattered except himself made you want to rip your hair out, and the fact that he had the audacity to act like you were the entitled one. 

instead of getting political with him ( because that would be happening all day tomorrow ), you looked at him and said, “could you maybe stop fucking my friends?”

jacob looked at you quizzically. “what do you mean?”

“holly said you hooked up with her at that party, could you maybe not fuck my friends? or if you’re going to hook up with them at least stop hooking up with sophomores. i know they’re easy and can’t see how much of an asshole you are but seriously. gross,” you scoffed. 

“are you jealous?”

you squinted at him. “no, i’m not fucking jealous. i just don’t want you to hook up with her again and then she comes crying to me because you wanted to do knife play or something.” 

jacob only laughed, taking the pile of flyers that finished printing. “why do you think i’m such a sadist?”

“because we all know those hand marks on carissa’s neck last year weren’t just a coincidence after you hooked up with her.”

he didn’t answer, instead shrugging his shoulders and watching away. you sighed, realizing that you were never going to get him to listen to anything you said ever. he was too much of an ass, luckily soon enough you never would have to see him again after you graduate. 

-

today was the day of the rally, and you were more than excited. the only problem was that you were stressed out of your mind trying to get everything set up in your large booth. everyone was either setting up the blue cookies that had been baked or getting the pins ready to hand out with sanders printed on them in large blue letters. 

“where are the shirts?” you asked one of your helpers, giving her a condescending look. “don’t tell me you left them in mrs. prescott’s classroom.”

she had. fucking god. 

you shook your head and turned on your heel, walking away from your booth and leaving someone else in charge while you were gone. you turned the corner and made your way into the big classroom. 

“what the hell are you going here?” a male voice asked. it was jacob, who was looking in a box that had your name on it. it was the box with the shirts. 

you walked over to where he was and grabbed the box away from him. “what are you doing with my shirts?”

“just looking, shitty design,” he said. 

you scoffed. “you’re an ass you know that? no one actually likes you, you have no respect from anyone but your little meathead jocks.” you meant to get him mad, but the look he gave you realized that he was in a more angry mood than he usually is.

“you think you’re such a tough bitch,” jacob yelled at you, pushing you back with such force you felt your stomach drop. his hands came to your shoulders and pushed you again, until you were pressed all the way up against the wall. your shoulder blades dug against the cold concrete, back of your head hitting against it. “you think that you’re so fucking entitled,” he went on, his body capturing yours in a hold so you couldn’t squirm out. 

your hands came to his chest, trying your best to push him away from him. his arms were pressed against the wall, still trapping you. in a leap of faith, you looked up into his piercing green eyes and gave him a smirk. “yeah? and what are you going to do about it, thrombey? teach me a lesson?” 

a sadistic smile came across his face, which made you instinctively press your thighs together, realizing how wet you actually were just looking at him, just feeling how close he was to your body. 

“you’d like that wouldn’t you? for me to teach you a lesson, fuck you until you can’t stand,” he hissed, his head ducked down and pressed hot kisses against your neck. his teeth grazed along that sweet spot and you gasped, your hands now balling up into fists on his chest. jacob laughed against your neck, using his tongue to lick a clean stripe all the way up your neck to the edge of your jaw. “amazing how much of a needy bitch you actually are. not really that tough, are we?”

“fuck you,” you said in a weak voice, feeling his hips grind against your own. he laughed again at your weak attempts to savor the last bit of dignity you had left in you, even though your own body was betraying your mind. your brain was going haywire, not knowing if you were going to push him all the way off of you and leave, or if you were going to give into the temptation. 

the latter ended up winning and you succumbed into his touch, pulling him by his shirt to kiss you. the second his lips landed on yours his tongue slipped into your mouth, fighting with your own and ultimately winning in the little power play you had going on with him. 

he pulled off your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your bra and skirt that was being hiked up by his other hand. you worked aimlessly on his own clothing, pulling off the dark blue blazer and only being left with his white collared button up undershirt to be in between the skin of both of your chests. your hands came up to take off his tie and get the buttons undone, but his own hands grabbed your wrists, tutting condescendingly. 

“that’s not how this is going to go, princess,” jacob said, pulling your hands to his belt of his black dress pants. “did you really think that i was going to let you be in control? i know that you’re a brat, but i didn’t think that you were dumb.”

you whined at his words, hating that his degrading words turned you on even more. his eyes motioned down to the ground and you quickly realized what he wanted. jacob stepped away from you enough to make you slink to your knees, hands still connected to the waistband of his pants. 

deciding to play the brat card with him, you looked up at him and said, “what do you want me to do, jacob?” it was in the most innocent tone you had ever made in your life and the look that he gave you almost made you cum in your pants right then and there. 

your hands came to palm him through his pants, keeping your eyes on him to see jacob’s head throw back with a low groan. his hands found their way to your hair, while you gave his growing bulge a light kiss. you continued to do this until his head came back to look down at you, hand moving to hold you by your jaw. “enough of this,” he spat, undoing his belt and watching as you unzipped his pants and pull them down to the ground. he took himself into his hands and pumped lazily a few times, until letting it rest on your closed lips. 

precum wiped against your kiss swollen lips as you opened your mouth, tongue falling out, waiting for him to do anything. he tutted again, other hand gripping your hair, finally pushing his dick into your mouth. he went as far as he could, hitting the back of your throat and watching you gag around it. you didn’t let yourself gag too much though, just enough to get remotely comfortable as he stilled in your throat. 

then he started moving your head up and down his cock, finding a steady rhythm that had you breathing in and out rapidly through your nose, spit dripping off his shaft and down your chin. the lewd noise that came out of your mouth made you moan, the vibrations enough to make him groan himself. 

he pulled you off of him, spit falling and getting everywhere on your face. “at least your pretty while i face fuck you, unlike your little friend holly. she just kept gagging and choking, which was hot at first, then a little sad,” he mentioned, wiping some of the spit off your chin with his thumb. 

you were about to talk to him again, until he was pushing right back into your mouth, to which you hollowed your cheeks out as much as you could to fit all of him in there. 

the sounds of his noises sent pressure right to your core, and you needed to alleviate the hot pressure that was building. sneakily ( or what you thought was sneakily ), your hands came to play with your clit, making you groan out against his dick. this caught his attention, and he pulled all the way out of you to give you a frown.

“are you actually touching yourself without my permission?” he asked, his voice teasing you and making you feel like a little girl.

your eyes widened, feeling stupid from his words and scared about what he was going to do about you getting caught in the act. he was silent, only looking at you with those dark green eyes that made you squirm under his gaze. without speaking, he pulled off the tie he was wearing and grabbed your hands, pushing your wrists together behind you. 

you couldn’t see what he was going to do until you felt the fabric bite into your skin, hearing the fabric fold into a tight knot. you tried to move your hands away from the tie and you couldn’t, they were tied together, unable to do anything. you were completely in his control now. 

“i'm sorry jacob . . . please i want to touch you,” you whined, though your voice was breaking from him ruining your throat.

he just laughed. “no, you wanted to touch yourself. don’t lie y/n, or i’ll just keep you like this and make you watch me finish myself off.” 

you hated that you found how cruel he was being hot, that it made you even more wet at the thought of him doing anything he wanted to you now that you were completely in his control. 

“get up,” he ordered, grabbing you under your arms and helping you onto your feet. it took you a moment to steady yourself since you didn’t have much balance, though you weren’t standing for long when he pulled you over a few feet away and bent you over the closest desk. your chest pressed against the cold surface, he pushed your head down too, cheek against the wood. 

he pulled you by the hair to hold you up, feeling his cock press up against you. “suck on these real quick for me princess,” jacob muttered, pushing two fingers into your mouth. you moaned against them, wiping your tongue all around them, letting your spit catch along his long digits. “good girl,” he praised, pulling them out of your mouth, pulling away your panties and inserting both of them into your aching hole. 

you yelped at the sudden pleasure, but pushed your hips against his hand, feeling him pump them in and out over and over again at an unforgiving pace. “is this what you wanted? just to be touched by someone you claim you hate,” his fingers pulled out of you, his hand landing to steady your hips. 

you heard him fumble a little bit, pushing into you after a few seconds went by. he was so big, and didn’t waste any time to let you adjust. when he bottomed out, he pulled all the way out and then back in roughly. you clenched around him, gasping breath in and out in a desperate attempt to adjust to him. 

even though he was going at an already fast pace, you could tell he was holding back. so you smirked, saying, “you said you’d fuck me till i can’t stand, but here i am standing.” jacob laughed, pulling you up by the hair again. you felt his hot breath fan against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “whatever you say.” 

his hips began rutting against you at an unbelievable pace, making you almost scream, head still being held up only by his hand in your hair. his lips kissed the skin below your ear, all the way down to the back of your neck, making you shiver and lean into his touch. 

your legs were already feeling tired, especially since your hands were still tied behind you by his tie and you couldn’t use them to hold yourself up. you felt like a limp rag doll against the desk while he pounded relentlessly into you. 

you were already so worked up that you knew you weren’t going to last very long, and surprisingly enough the way that the edge of the desk was digging into your hip bones the more you reached closer and closer to that edge. 

“fuck jacob i’m going to cum,” you yelled out, fingernails clenching into the palms of your hands. “please, please let me cum.”

“well since you asked so nicely,” jacob said. “cum then.”

you yelped out, squeezing around him and hitting your high like hitting a hard brick wall. the impact of him still rutting relentlessly and animal like into you made it hard for you to stand, riding out your high. his arm came to wrap around your waist, holding you against the desk while he chased his own high. 

the sensitivity you felt was enough to make your eyes water. jacob was not that far behind you though, giving you one last good thrust then spilling inside of you. you felt the cum enter you and fill you up, and when he pulled out you felt the liquid run down your inner thighs. 

the sounds of each of your breaths filled the room. your wrists were undone and you leaned against the desk, turning around and looking at them. there were deep purple bruises in a ring along them, and you knew those were going to be impossible to cover up with makeup to make your skin look natural.

each of you were silent while he got dressed and you cleaned him off of your thighs with a kleenex, getting dressed yourself. until you said, “you’re lucky i’m on birth control, asshole. you didn’t even ask me if you could come inside.”

“I figured you were, seemed like you,” he retorted. 

“you’re still unbelievable,” you answered, deciding to pin up your hair because there was no way you would be able to make it look normal while it was down. 

jacob tied his tie and gave himself a once over. “yeah, and you’re still a brat. see you at the rally, hopefully your voice recovers or else you’ll have to explain to all of your liberal bitches about how you got on your knees for me.”

asshole.

[elizabethemerald]

Water Heals; Chap 4

AO3

Today was another of Katara’s visits. Azula felt like she was getting better at telling the days apart, and keeping track of the weeks as they passed. Katara had said that she would bring a guest this week. It would be the first time she had seen someone other than Katara, her brother, or the staff since she was admitted to the hospital. Azula had promised to be on her very best behaviour. 

She smiled her own private smile when the door to her room opened to show Katara, though she kept her face otherwise schooled. As a princess of the Fire Nation she wouldn’t let herself show all of her real emotions to outsiders like Katara’s guest. 

Behind Katara entered her brother, Sokka. Katara has talked quite a lot about her brother and what he had gotten up to recently. It would be interesting to meet him face to face, and for once, not on the other side of a conflict. 

It certainly seemed like peace was suiting him well. Sokka still had the build of a swordsman, though now he was really hitting his growth spurt, he was going to be tall, possibly even taller than Zuko. He had a slightly nervous air about him, though he was masking it well. He smiled a wide, easy smile upon seeing Azula. Her spine stiffened for a moment, fearing he was smiling because of her bonds. Before she could snap at his insolence he clapped Katara on the shoulder and took a seat. Perhaps he was just in a jovial mood?

Katara took the seat next to her brother, returning his smile. Azula felt a hint of color rise in her cheeks. Katara’s smile never failed to bring some warmth to her face, and set Salmonflies fluttering in her stomach. For some reason Sokka’s smile widened, his earlier nervousness dissipating. 

“So Azula!” He said. Azula was suspicious of his friendliness, but she supposed Katara had brought him along first for a reason. “Katara’s told me a lot about her visits with you. How have you been liking them?”

Katara had side eyed him at this question, but Azula felt their mutual companion was a safe enough conversation topic. 

“Her visits continue to be the highlight of my time here. Even at my most dower Katara’s smile brightens my day.” Azula said stiffly, as if she were giving a report to the war council. Her eyes flicked to Katara, and she couldn't help but notice a faint blush dusting Katara’s cheeks, her eyes down cast as she fiddled with her hair. She decided to quickly change the subject, not trusting Sokka not to stray too near sensitive topics. “And how about yourself? Katara has kept me informed on some of the inventions you have made.”

“Oh she has!” Sokka immediately pulled a sketch book out of his satchel. Azula leaned forward as close as she could to look at his drawings. Some of the sketches seemed almost infantile in quality, but as she was able to parse the information she could see he was trying to figure out a way to trap a fire bender’s lightning, so it could be used to power other inventions. “You see, if I can make this work we can create other things that could wildly improve life for the people of the world. I’m just trying to find some way to replicate the lake of Chi a fire bender uses to control and redirect lightning. Though its really hard to get a hold of some lightning to test my theories.”

“It should not be that hard to get.” Azula said with a smirk. “Would you like a free sample?”

Before he could respond Azula took a deep breath, pulling on her own lake of Chi and spat out a flash of lightning. Sokka jumped back with a yelp as the lightning flashed wildly around the room. Without the use of her hands to control and direct the lightning, she didn’t have any where near the control she usually did. She released the rest of her breath as a short pant of blue flame. Lightning bending was far harder than fire bending without hands. 

Katara jumped up, water flying to her hand from the pitcher in the room. Azula couldn’t help her flinch, still battling the fear that Katara was going to turn against her one day and try to kill her. Instead of forming a whip the water around her hands glowed with a strange light. Azula watched, her eyes wide in awe, as Katara used the water to heal any slight mark Sokka may have received. 

“That was rude Azula!” Katara said. Azula couldn’t help but feel a rush of guilt. She had promised Katara she would be on her best behaviour. She couldn’t stand the idea that Katara would take this as a sign to stop visiting her. 

“I’m sorry Katara.” Azula said, her eyes down cast. 

Katara was about to reply in her usual huff, but Sokka, now settled from his surprise, spoke. 

“You know Azula, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize to literally anyone. I didn’t think you knew how to.” HIs words, heavy with sarcasm were at least a game Azula knew how to play. 

“I prefer to reserve my apologies for those who mean the most to me. Not water tribe peasants like yourself.” Azula said, putting her nose up in mock disdain, though she met Katara’s gaze, attempting a small joke based on their first conversation. Katara’s smile showed that the joke had landed, and again there was a dusting of a blush across her cheeks. “Though I guess since the war’s over, I should make right with those I can. Is there anything I should apologize to you for?”

“Suki.” 

With that single name, Azula felt her hard won control slipping. The leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. She had taken great pleasure in ensuring she was imprisoned and in making sure her incarceration was as unpleasant as possible. 

“Do you know what happened to her?” Azula asked, her voice sounding lifeless and mechanical even in her own ears. All she could remember was defeating Suki and shipping her off. 

“Yeah, me and Zuko broke her out of the Boiling Rock.” Sokka said. His voice sounded like it was coming from a cave. 

The Boiling Rock. The start of her fall. She had tried to kill her brother again there. Mai and Ty Lee had turned against her there. Not only had they shown their true colors but she had shown hers as well, first by trying to kill them, then by having them arrested. From there she had known that there was no one she could trust. Eventually everyone would betray her. And she deserved it. She was a monster after all. 

Azula was fading fast, her grasp on the moment slipping as her mind spiraled into the memories of her many failures. She was only distantly aware of a rapid yet hushed conversation between Sokka and Katara. They were probably discussing how to punish her for imprisoning Suki. 

“Did Katara ever tell you about the time I drank cactus juice?” Sokka said. The surprise of the strange sentence shook Azula from her dark spiral. 

“Isn’t cactus juice…” She was trying to focus her brain on the bizarre statement. 

“Hallucinogenic?” Sokka laughed. His laugh was loud. Different than Katara’s soft laugh. “Oh yeah it is. I spent a few hours absolutely out of my mind. I remember seeing a giant mushroom that I was sure was going to be my friend.”

Azula felt a crooked, broken smile creep up her face at the idea. 

“Or there was the time Toph trapped me in a hole in the ground. It felt like I was stuck there for hours. I promised to give up sarcasm and eating meat if I was able to get out. That didn’t last very long.” He said sarcastically. 

Her broken smile crept higher on her face, feeling less broken and more natural. 

“How about the story when me and Katara got sick, I spent the entire time thinking I was an earthbender! Then guess what the cure was?” He didn’t wait for Azula to guess instead continuing on excitedly. “Sucking on frozen frogs! Aang had to go fetch them while we were resting in our sleeping bags!”

Azula could see Katara’s own smile creeping higher on her face as her brother brought back some pleasant memories from their time traveling the world during the war. Azula could feel her own smile grow, a soft huff coming from her nose at the thought of Katara with a frozen frog on her face. 

“Oh or the time we tried to convince those guards that I was an earthbender!” Katara said. 

“That was a good one! Especially because that one guard thought that Momo was the earthbender! Not the brightest guard.”

“Can’t forget the whole adventure in the secret tunnel! I thought you would have a handprint on your forehead from facepalming for a week!”

Azula let out a short bark of a laugh. She felt more herself, like her mind was back in her body where it belonged and less like she was going to start sobbing. 

“It seems traveling with the Avatar wasn’t all hard work and battles.” Azula said. Her voice still sounded a little flat, but it was coming back to her regular tone. 

“It was a lot of work. And there were some things that are going to be in my nightmares for years.” Sokka said, his tone more serious than it had been since he arrived. “But that doesn’t mean it was all bad. Aang’s a fun loving guy. He wouldn’t let us stay to serious for to long.”

“When we first met him, he immediately wanted to go penguin sledding!” Katara said, her smile now her usual full faced and spirit-blessed smile. 

The conversation continued, Sokka carrying most of it, for the next hour or so. By the end Azula was exhausted from the social interaction, but she was happy. Sokka had caused her first genuine laugh in what felt like months, though she couldn’t tell exactly how long it had been. Katara had also seemed to enjoy having her brother there. She fell into good hearted bickering so easily with him, her smile brightening up the entire room, causing even more Salmonflies to buzz wildly in her stomach and a warm feeling to fill her chest. 

When it was finally time for Sokka and Katara to leave for the day, Azula stopped him. He stood at the door, Katara behind him in the hall looking over his shoulder. It took Azula a few moments to gather her words and force them out. 

“Sokka… I’m sorry.” The words felt painful as she pushed them out past the lump in her throat. She wanted to apologize for everything. For the harm she had caused during the war, for the harm her people had caused, even for throwing lightning at him just today, but she couldn’t get all those words. He seemed to understand the enormity of what she apologizing for and gave her a solemn nod. “Please tell Suki...I’m…”

“I will.” He nodded again, that same seriousness from earlier in his voice. 

With that the two Water Tribe siblings left. Azula was exhausted. Her body drained like she had fought for the entire afternoon. However her mind felt like it was fully active. They had given her much to think about. 

She had been inclined to dismiss Sokka, as a non bender, and as an oaf, he was never the same threat that Katara was. However he had clearly earned his place among the Avatar’s closest. He was cleverer than she had ever given him credit for, and he had the ability, almost uncannily, to switch between lighthearted and serious at a moment’s notice. She would have to think more about him. About his ease in forgiving her. About his inventions and ideas. 

Thinking of Sokka was significantly harder considering something else occupied her mind. Katara’s smile. Katara had seen her slipping, had noticed her reaction to the mention of Suki and the Boiling Rock. She had encouraged her brother to joke to offset the tension and help ground her back in her body. Katara had seen her, and seen through her, and some how still visited again and again, and still smiled and laughed with her, not at her, but with her. It was a lot to think about all at once. 

[utterlyinevitable]

How about Solomon Burkes Cry to me for Ethan and MC? Specifically the lines 'loneliness is such a waste of time' And 'Come on take my hand and baby won't you walk with me'

i tried really really hard to write fluff.... 

Midnight Loneliness

Word Count: 2.1k  Warning: fluff 🤷🏻‍♀️ Summary: This takes place after the kiss outside Ethan’s apartment in OHSY Chapter 8.

A/N: I attempted fluff. Please be gentle it’s not my forte.

________________________________________

Becca had left Ethan’s apartment in her ride-share a little over two hours ago. Her head was still dizzy from their kiss - their first kiss in months. A kiss Ethan Ramsey initiated. She felt high and completely weightless, like she was dancing through the evening on a cloud and no amount of darkness could bring her down. Becca wasn’t dreaming; if his actions told her anything it’s that Ethan still feels something for her and all these months of waiting and tiptoeing were all worth it for a few moments of unsullied bliss.   

After her shower and settling into her bed for the evening with the biggest grin still plastered on her face. Becca unlocked her phone to look at the candid picture she had taken earlier of Ethan standing in front of his stove with the dish towel draped over his shoulder and the smile from her ‘heat’ joke still present on his lips. It was a snapshot of a happier Ethan, of a happier life they pretended to have for a few sacred moments. With her teeth digging into her swollen lip, and against her better judgment, she texted him. 

She wanted to make a joke and then bring up the kiss, but knew better. She knew savoring the moment was a luxury she needed to afford because one wrong move and he’d be gone to her again. Becca wanted to hold onto this sliver of clarity for as long as possible. 

They sent the next message at the same time; 

When he didn’t respond right away she decided to try and provoke a response. 

Becca: Are you lonely, Dr. Ramsey? 

Still, minutes passed without a sarcastic or curt response to her promiscuous message. She assumed he was cleaning up from the evening and getting ready for bed. Ethan is pushing 40 after all.  

With great excitement Becca bolted out of bed. She threw on the closest items of clothing she could find; black workout leggings with mesh cutouts, her over-sized UCLA pullover hoodie and her trusty ADIDAS sneakers. As quickly as she could she threw her phone in her pocket after making sure her debit card and I.D. were still in the case. As she made her way out the door she threw her still damp hair into a messy bun. If her roommates called after her Becca didn’t hear them.

His black sedan was sitting at the curb right out front of her building. In a few eager hops she slid into the leather seat through the awaiting unlocked door.    

“Wouldn’t think of you as a spontaneous man, Dr. Ramsey,” Becca smiled as she buckled herself in for a thrilling evening.  

Ethan hadn’t looked at her since she entered the car, his attention fixated on the gearshift and their destination ahead.  

“I have my moments, Rookie.” 

She cocked her head to see the faintest smirk gracing his features in the dark car and illuminated by the warm glow of the passing streetlamps. “How many more surprises could you pack into one evening?”  

They drove for what seemed to be too long to be heading back to his place. Actually, Becca wasn’t sure they were going back to his apartment at all. None of these streets seemed familiar. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“You’ll see. Patience, Rookie.” 

Becca rolled her eyes but couldn’t be mad. This little excursion was exhilarating and it had barely even started yet! 

They were driving closer to the water, the road illuminated with bright white flood lights. Looking over she could see Ethan more clearly now. He was in light blue jeans and a faded navy blue zip-up hoodie that she was sure accentuated his crystal clear eyes. Her eyes traveled up from his body and to his face just under his still nearly-perfect wispy hair. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were a type of heavy she hadn’t seen since… since Naveen almost died.  

“Were you crying?” Becca asked with a deep and heavy heart.  

His response was low and flat, a typically Ethan deflection, “That obvious?”  

Becca was an aspiring diagnostician with amazing intuition, and not to mention she knew Ethan better than he’d like to admit. 

“Your eyes are still a little red,” she told him. She bit her lip and sat on her hands as she toyed with asking, “What happened?” 

Quickly he dismissed, “It’s fine.” Becca naturally gave him a look; she didn’t think he would notice as they drove along the coast. But he knew it was coming. Ethan did know her inherent reactions whether either of them realized it or not. “We spoke about the concerns I told you about earlier.” 

She knew there was more that he wasn’t telling her. Ethan very seldom opened up about his vulnerability and she felt she was privy to enough of his secrets for one day. Boldly, Becca wrapped her hand around his resting on the gearshift. Ethan let her fingers fall between his. Holding on tightly he brought their hands up to place the faintest of kisses on the back of her hand. The fresh smell of coconuts and a clear day lingering on her skin that was so distinctly Becca were soothing his woes with every breath. 

Her eyes fluttered closed the second his lips met her skin. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she said softly, afraid of ruining the moment. “I’m here, whenever you need to vent.” 

“I know.” Ethan rotated their hands so he could fully keep her safely within his own. In that moment Ethan wanted to say something, the most important of somethings. 

“Rebecca…”  

But he didn’t get the chance. She felt it coming.  

“I know.”  

They held onto one another just a bit tighter. 

The next ten minutes of the ride passed in comfortable silence. Becca looked out the window as they turned onto a darker side road and into a desolate parking lot. There were only two other cars save for them and it seemed like a few teenagers were… doing what teenagers do. Briefly Becca recalled all the evenings she spent dilly dallying with her friends in mall parking lots during high school. What could Ethan possibly have in store for them?  

He parked in the far corner away from the teens and closest to the grassy park. Becca sat there stunned as Ethan got out of the car. He let out a small chuckle after he opened her door when she looked up at him with furrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose. 

“Come,” He held his hand out for her to take. 

She raised her eyebrow further to the sky - It’s the middle of the night and they’re in an empty parking lot. What is going on? 

“Won’t you walk with me, or do you have other plans?” 

Brown met playful blue, “Promise you’re not going to murder me in a bush.”  

“If I was going to murder you, I wouldn’t do it out in the open,” Ethan scoffed. He tried to be stern but his smile betrayed him.  

“That’s…” she undid her seat-belt slowly and shook her head, “Not reassuring at all.” 

“Rookie, lets go.”  

That was all the push she needed. 

Happily, her laced fingers held onto him securely as they walked through the parking lot to a patch of grass leading to the water. Becca wanted to stop and take in the peaceful scene before them - a rare moment to find in a bustling city, but Ethan pulled her along. 

They walked along the receding shore and climbed over a few large rocks and a jetty. They did so in silence. Ethan was on a mission to get to the perfect spot and Becca was too excited to ruin the moment. 

Eventually they made it to another patch of grass hidden in the midnight spring air. The area was almost pitch black save for three muted streetlights in the distance. Ethan halted their movements and she took the hint. 

“A lighthouse?” she questioned as she continued taking in their surroundings. Becca pointed to an empty parking field not too far from the large striped building. “Why didn’t we just park up next to it.”  

“It’s private property,” he told her matter-of-factly. “But here,” he motioned with his arms to the few meters of grass around them, “because of codes this little patch of grass is part of the public park we just trekked through.”  

Becca was still confused as to what they’re doing here. 

Ethan pointed to the sky and all the stars in their full glory, “It’s one of the least light polluted spots in the city.”  

She used her pointer finger to point past Ethan and to the very obvious lighthouse. Logic told her that the space was going to be polluted with light - that’s a lighthouse’s job, after all. 

“What’s that lighthouse missing, Rookie?” 

She squinted as if thinking. Then it clicked. “A light…”  

“Exactly.” He instructed, “Look up.” 

There were agile flecks passing through the sky quickly. If Becca dared to blink she’d miss it. 

Ethan watched her as she looked up in wonderment. “Meteor shower,” he explained tenderly with a squeeze of their hands.  

“Make a wish,” she whispered back.  

For a second Becca let herself close her eyes and wish the greatest wish of all. Her heart’s greatest wish. 

Ethan wrapped his arms around her petite frame, resting his head closely against hers. They stood in comfortable silence as this once in a lifetime event occurred. They savored one another for as long as their legs and craned necks would allow. After a few moments in their embrace he pulled them down to the ground for a fuller view of the expansive darkness above them. His arm stayed around her and she was tucked at his side. Her head rested on his chest. Everything was simply comfortable. 

Becca wanted to know how he came across this place. She wanted to really know why he picked her up and what their kiss earlier meant. She wanted to know if he wished for the same thing she did on one of the shooting stars. But she didn’t. Tonight wasn’t the night to disturb the peace, it was a night to embrace it. He was letting his guard down and she didn’t know how long it would last this time.

She listened contentedly to the beating of his heart and cherished each bob of her head as his chest rose and fell with easy breaths. 

Ethan was the one to break their silence. 

“What did you wish for?”  

Becca lifted herself up to look him in the eye, “If I tell it won’t come true.” Her sly smile told him all he needed to know. 

Ethan looked up at the incredible woman looking down at him. Her dewy brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, her face free of make up letting the small specks of freckles over her nose glisten in the moonlight. Her doe brown eyes held a wonderment and safety he wanted to bottle up for all of eternity. He let his thumb trail over the freckles. Her eyes closed on contact with his warmth and her lips parted on instinct. He just stared at her. Becca. Dr. Rebecca Lao. His closest friend.  

His Rookie. 

And for the second time that night Ethan leaned in. 

They kissed for as long as their lungs would allow. All feelings of rush from earlier gone, and now it was pure unadulterated bliss. They could take their time under the moonlight, absolutely no interruptions or anyone waiting back at home. 

Becca and Ethan could simply be. 

Becca’s body was on fire. She hadn’t felt this alive since that first time in his apartment. Everything about Ethan felt so right. His hands caressed her back, pulling her closer and teasing the hem of her top. Every fiber of her being kept egging her to keep going, to settle onto him, yet her mind told her to wait. Deep in her soul Becca Lao knew Ethan Ramsey was worth the wait. 

With ragged lively breaths, looking into his stunning clear blue eyes she felt those words creeping up onto her tongue. 

“Ethan…” 

“I know,” he echoed, his baby blues so full and his thumb caressing her cheek. “I promise we’ll talk about us soon.” 

And with that he kissed her again and they settled into the soil for a few hours more. 

________________________________________

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[flarewrites]

ICU In My Dreams

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Midoriya Izuku︱Rated T ︱Crack, Bad Puns & Pick-up Lines

Sypnosis: High on anesthesia, Katsuki falls for his husband all over again and tries to woo him with extremely bad pick-up lines. 

Katsuki wakes up in a hospital bed.

Or maybe he wakes up in heaven that just coincidentally looks like a private hospital room, because damn, is that an angel standing next to his bed?

He cranes his neck to get a better look, which is obviously a bad choice, because instantly, a sharp pain shoots up his neck and Katsuki lets out a string of violent curses.

The angel turns around, and Katsuki’s heart swoops.

He’s got the cutest fucking face Katsuki has ever seen - big round green eyes that sparkle and shit, the cutest fucking nose, and damn those plush kissable lips.

Also, bless the gods, are those freckles?!

He reaches out instinctively to touch one, but the angel grabs his hand and gently pushes it back down.

“Kacchan?” Oh damn this is so unfair, he’s even got a nice voice. “Are you okay? Do you know where you are?”

Katsuki frowns. That’s a goddamn stupid question; of course he knows where he is.

“This is heaven,” He tells Izuku confidently. “Are you the angel assigned to me?”

Izuku blinks at him.

Across the room, someone bursts into laughter.

“Oh man, this is great.” The person says, coming into Katsuki’s view. “Dude, I am so filming this.”

The newcomer has red spikey hair and is decked in some sort of hero gear, although Katsuki can’t wrap his mind around why anyone would fight shirtless. He’s also got really sharp teeth, but despite appearances he seems pretty harmless, though at this point Katsuki doesn’t give a fuck if he’s good or bad. He’ll fight him either way for interrupting their conversation.

“Fuck off,” He growls, much to the amusement of the other. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

The man snorts. “My bad, bro. Please continue.”

Katsuki would like to, but the fucking moment is ruined, so he leans back and pouts as Izuku checks on him.

“You’re not in heaven, Kacchan.” The green-haired boy tells him, much to his disappointment. “You’re alive, and you’re currently in the hospital fresh out from surgery. I’m the nurse assigned to you.”

Huh. That sucks.

“I want to borrow your phone,” He says instead. “I need to call God because i think i found one of his missing angels.”

Eijiro chokes on his water.

Katsuki promptly ignores him, gazing up expectantly at the not-angel whose face has turned an alarming shade of red.

“You’re high on anaesthetic,” Izuku says, amused. “Kacchan i don’t-”

“Who’s Kacchan?” He demands, annoyed that Izuku hasn’t once used his name. “My name is Bakugo Katsuki. Call me Katsuki.”

“Okay, Katsuki,” The smile on Izuku’s face is fond, but it's obvious that he’s trying not to laugh. “Katsuki, are you hungry?”

“Depends,” Katsuki says, eyeing a particular area of Izuku’s body. “Do you have a footlong?”

At this point, Eijiro isn’t even trying anymore. He laughs so hard he wheezes, and Izuku has to shove another cup of water in his hands before the man dies of oxygen deprivation.

“Man you are so going to hate yourself later,” Eijiro tells Katsuki when he finally stops laughing. “I can’t watch any further and since I have enough blackmail material already, I'll leave you two to it.”

He gives them both a little wave, then turns his heel and promptly exits the room.

Katsuki has never been more glad to see him leave.

“Is he someone i know?” He asks Izuku when it's just the two of them. “Why is he here?”

“He’s one of your best friends,” The other replies. “You two were on patrol when some villains attacked the area, so you went in to help, but they caught you off-guard and you were...impaled.”

Izuku’s voice breaks at the end, and Katsuki’s heart clenches painfully. For some reason he doesn’ t understand, it hurts to hear Izuku’s voice in distraught.

“Did I win?” Katsuki demands in an attempt to distract the other. “Did i kill those stupid villain extras?”

“Hmm?” Izuku looks up at him, and then he nods. “Oh, yes you did.”

Well, that’s great news. So why does the green-haired male look so crest-fallen?

“Listen, angel,” He says, reaching forward to grab the other’s hand. “Keep your evening free, I want to take you on a date.”

Izuku stares at him. “I already have plans tonight.”

“What about tomorrow?” Katsuki suggests. “Or the day after tomorrow.”

“I’m not quite sure my husband will appreciate it,” Izuku says, the corner of his mouth lifting a little. “You see, he can be quite the possessive type.”

Katsuki tries not to feel so dejected. Of fucking course this beautifiul man is already taken.

“I don’t see a wedding ring,” He mentions, carefully examining the others’ left hand. “Your husband doesn’t have to know. It can be our dirty little secret.”

Alright, in his defense, Katsuki is not in his right mind, and definitely a little love drunk. He’s a lot of things, but certainly not a homewrecker because fuck you, he does have morals.

“I take my ring off for work because I don't want to lose it,” Izuku says patiently, watching in amusement as Katsuki scowls at the additional information. “Even so, I'm not going to cheat on him with you.”

Katsuki pouts. “But I'm a catch.”

“So is he,” Izuku replies, giggling.

Katsuki is getting very annoyed at this nurse’s “husband”, but he’s been known to fight for what he wants, so he isn’t going to give up so easily.

“I can be better than him,” He declares. “I’ll win him in a fight. Call him over now, I'll fight him.”

Izuku stares at him for a while, and then the nurse bursts out laughing.

Katsuki hasn’t been more confused in his life. What part of that sentence was funny?

“You’re my husband, dumbass.” Izuku says, green eyes swimming with mirth. “Also, you’re not fighting anyone. You can barely even walk!”

Wait a minute. He’s his what now?

“I’m your husband?” Katsuki asks, bewildered. “What? How? When?”

“We've been married for a few year,” Izuku is handing him a cup of pills now . “It’s time for your medicine. Eat these and sleep first. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

Katsuki frowns at the small plastic cup. He doesn’t want to sleep, he just wants to talk to his husband. “I don’t need all these. All I need is some Vitamin You.”

Izuku snorts. “Would you like some vitamin D while you’re at it?”

“Can i?”

Izuku winks at him. “If you take these like a good boy.”

Yeah, Katsuki has never scoffed down pills as fast as he did now, so imagine his disappointment when Izuku merely gives him a peck on the cheek before turning to leave.

What the fuck. He’s never felt so betrayed.

“You promised,” Katsuki says petulantly. “At least give me a proper kiss.”

He watches in satisfaction as Izuku turns back to him and sighs.

“You’re such a big baby,” His husband complains, but leans down to press a chaste kiss on Katsuki’s lips. “Sleep, or i won’t be here when you wake up.”

“I’ll divorce your ass,” He grumbles, pouting when Izuku gives him a pointed look. “Fucking fine, i’m sleeping!”

He’s not though. Well, until Izuku steps out of the room, he’s going to be as awake as he can so he can watch that mighty fine ass leave. It really is a great ass, Katsuki thinks, peeking from one slightly opened eye. How-

“Kacchan!”

Fuck, he’s been caught.

Katsuki tries to look less guilty when Izuku strides towards his bedside once more, arms crossed and mouth pinched into a thin line.

“I’m not leaving until you sleep,” He says sharply. “Kacchan, you really need to sleep to get better.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Katsuki says, fighting the sudden urge to close his eyes, because fuck why are his eyelids suddenly so heavy? “I want to talk more.”

“We can talk when you’re better,” Izuku says, and oh no, his voice suddenly sounds so far away. “Sleep, Kacchan.”

“But-!”

“Sleep,” Izuku says again, gently pushing him backwards. His head hits the pillow and then everything goes black.

The last thing he sees are those wide, sparkling green eyes before he lets his consciousness get pulled under.

----------

Eijiro plays the video for Katsuki when he visits him the day after he’s discharged and Katsuki nearly burns the whole apartment down with his second-hand embarrassment.

“I did not just ask if you have a footlong, what the fuck.” Katsuki whispers, horrified. He wants to go back in time and strangle himself. “Fuck you, Shitty hair, delete that.”

“Nah,” The damn bastard leaps out of his reach, and Katsuki is way too comfortable to catch his ass so he flips him off instead. “This shit will go down in history, my man. It's priceless.”

Izuku, his little shit of a husband, is still laughing even after the video ends. Katsuki would know, because the green-haired male is currently curled up next to him, and he can feel his whole body shaking.

“For what it’s worth, I thought it was cute.” Izuku says, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “I was worried sick when you came in all bloodied and unconscious, but it was a relief to see you be your usual self.”

Eijrou stops sipping his tea and stares.

Katsuki has the sudden urge to blast himself to space.

“What,” Eijiro says carefully, setting his cup down. “Did you say?”

Izuku doesn’t seem to catch wind of the situation - or maybe he does, since Katsuki didn’t marry him for his innocence - because he cocks his head to one side, and says, “Kacchan occasionally-mmph!”

Eijiro never gets to hear what Katsuki occasionally does; he’s too busy vacating their apartment like his ass is on fire because knowing his best friend, it might just be if he’s late by a fraction of a second.

He slams the door shut and prays Izuku makes it out alive.

Posted on AO3 too :D

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Bound

With the tail-end of the storm approaching, the ship had cut her way through the last of tremulous waters. The crewmen finally began to dwindle, with some of their number gone below deck to their quarters to relax and rest. Tell tales. Take drink.

Except for Wayne

He was the Captain and inheritor of the impressive vessel, The Aquamarine. Reentering the Captain's Quarters with a wrist behind him, he bowed, bent low to the desk. By the withering candle light, he reexamined the map that he had used to plot their course. He poured over his graphs and charts, and all the while recalculating the length of the journey, whether they could recover any lost time.

Not once had he stared at the edge of the room toward the mast. It was a cruel reminder that he had merely prolonged the imminent.

The muted sound of the boat creaking and the churn of choppy water was but a faint backdrop. A quill drawn up to scratch ink into worn pages broke through a moment of silence. And it seemed to break her.

"Please..."

There she sat in his chambers, a maiden, with wrists knotted behind her back, holding her fast to the mizzenmast. The girl spoke so softly under the shadow of breath, like a whisper of a last attempt. Her hooded head dipped down so low, she feared that he had forgotten her, but he hadn't. Oh, how he wished he would - wished he could.

The Captain's eyes locked in on her immediately. "Please." The word fell again from full lips like a prayer and his body flinched, turning ever so slightly toward the source. Slowly but surely, she was reeling him in. Wayne tried his best not to think about the myriad of methods he had at his disposal to make her say that word.

But he longed to hear it again.

Ardently.

And again.

Softer. Louder. Harder.

Again.

Sweet staccato - in tandem with each of their heartbeats.

He blinked brilliant sea foam colored eyes, rapidly in an attempt to sift away the dangerous thoughts, to wash them away like a turning tide would carry in a newborn turtle to the sanctity of the sea's embrace. To join its brothers. Never again to see its mother, so much of that was true of himself.

The true parallel was the perseverance, he did what he had to survive. And that included tying up loose ends.

"It's been hours..." Her voice was barely audible but held weight, as that of wavering waters, depths unfathomable. "The ship sailed through the turmoil..." Wayne wondered briefly if the squall had shaken her. Made her feel even more helpless. Tied up in his quarters with the boat rearing and rocking through turbulent sea. Alone and powerless. "You promised upon your return that you would...tell me my fate."

Had he?

Suddenly, Wayne craved the whiskey he saved for occasions or the occasional situation where he'd had to make a particularly tough call. Did one such as this constitute? Surely he had to have a drink or at least something to numb himself with. Why wouldn't he need a buffer or a filter to cloak himself, when to be in her presence was to grab hold of the ship's wheel, round it an about face and venture back into the maelstrom?

"I've made no such promises..." Captain Wayne smooth creases from his papers. "I have yet to reach a verdict regarding your fate. And until I do so, you will remain in my quarters. Silently." He included.

Captain Wayne traced his map with a finger and made a notation. Four. They would arrive in four nights. He'd relay this to his first mate Jon in the morning and then, the crew. This storm had slowed them, but they would dock in a few days if the ship remained on course with no interference. His lip curled. No external interference.

"I will..." The maiden conceded reluctantly. "Only if I may ask you this, so that I may prepare myself... What should I expect in these circumstances...?"

"I have said - you will wait," Wayne replied tersely. "Do as I ask." But that command sounded weaker than the last, to both of their ears. His resistance was dwindling, almost as if she were a mermaid or a siren seducing him, inducing him into action with a spell to make him serve her and bind him to her for all time. Though she sat bound before him.

And why?

She walked upon two legs with nary a tail nor fins in sight, how was that she in her cloak and white dress had awakened something in him he previously believed to be dormant?

Wayne had seen the finest things that this life had to offer. Treasures beyond measure. The seas, the skies, jewels, and the fairer sex - he had seen, but never indulged, never been tempted to stray. To allow any of these countless vices to corrupt him would cloud his judgment.

None had managed to rouse him like she, stringing along his soul and wringing up his beliefs.

And how?

Between her two hands, were they not tied?

"You..." She tried again. "Appear to be a reasonable man. More than fair." The woman licked her lips.

No.

His temple pulsed, an accusing finger jabbed in her direction. "You speak of fairness? Everything you've shown me is in complete opposition." He scoffed. "You stand to disregard this ship and my position, with your very existence - unsanctioned presence - aboard my vessel."

The maiden appeared to pale even further, but she continued. "Perhaps, I can make my case to you properly... Explain -"

"Captain," he interjected, needlessly. "That is captain, to you maiden." He peered over his pages at her body, mostly obscured in the sparsely lit room. "You may not be a member of my crew, but this is still my ship. And on my ship, you will address me by the appropriate title."

"Am I to stay here all night - bound...?" Her thighs turned in the loose fabric of her dress. And Captain Wayne found he had to glance away. "Captain," she added.

"Yes." Wayne's quill pierced the paper in his frustration. He cursed under his breath. "You are to remain here if I so command it."

"Then, I am to be treated as your enemy?" She blinked in realization. The woman drew her knees up. "And once you've turned me out, you'll cast me off? Or...flog me?"

Oh.

Captain Wayne's jaw twitched at the last in ways that flogging had never previously prompted. His consciousness betrayed him. The ripple expanding inside him incited such distracting warmth. But how was he to know that such suggestions would only bring about visions of a pale body, bare, bucking and bound to the mast, a moaning mess before him with a leather flogger in hand. Her hair askew, skin deliciously rouge and ripe while she begged for more.

This maiden was violating his vessel, he was fully in the right to flog her...

But.

"What you are remains to be seen... But you're hardly as innocent as you claim." He cleared his throat. "I should have you locked in a cell down below like the prisoner you are." Wayne didn't have to turn to her to know the defiant sparks he had felt had started to fall from her. Yet, he did not go to her. "But as I have not, do not test me."

"So then, in a manner of speaking, you have decided..." She mumbled low. "What am I if I am to remain here in your chambers like this? Your personal prisoner?"

Thoughts of a personal prisoner in his private quarters elicited Wayne's mouth to water again. Why did her words titillate him so?

The girl shifted, ropes groaned as they squeezed upon the smooth red wood of the mast. "Surely you cannot keep me," she murmured quietly.

He rolled up the map at last. "Are you willing to take that chance?"

For a time she was silent, as if that thought hadn't been meant for his ears.

"I would prefer to come to an agreement rather than to come to that, Captain."

"Hmm." Rising from the desk, he took a heavy step, as he pondered. "Prisoner or not, you have nothing to offer. Not materially nor strategically." She wasn't trained to be a seafarer, it was true. "You could serve to be no more than a liability to me."

"That's not true -" The woman insisted. "This is a misunderstanding..."

"If it is a misunderstanding, explain your presence aboard my ship? Is it an accident perhaps because you were caught?" The captain lashed quickly, glaring sharply in her direction.

"No..." She breathed. "You are correct... I boarded without permission and unbeknownst to you - I stowed away." The girl hung her head. "But, please allow me let me stay."

"You confess to being a stowaway, and you would like to be permitted to stay?" Captain Wayne asked, incredulously.

"Yes. Please." Her voice quivered and he could bet her lips did in turn. "If I may, I would like to stay."

She sounded like a woman on the verge. Why would she beg to stay on a strange vessel after her confession? A prison aboard a pirate ship was preferable to other options? But it was suspicious. Was she a mere interloper or did she have mutinous aims? Or worse, did she seek to end him?

The faint cruel smirk faltered.

"I'll bet you'd like me to let my guard down... Is it because you wish to do me in?" Her head shot up and her eyes were widened. The Captain continued callously. "Is that it? Have I figured you out?"

Looking at the crumpled form bent before the mast, it was difficult to think such a thing was true. But so thought the men fooled by sirens into believing they were lovers, before their bodies were crushed and ripped apart by rocks and waves.

Suddenly, the woman glanced over at him, unblinking, the whites of her eyes glowing. "Just as you wouldn't hurt me... I have no intention of hurting you..."

Without warning, a deafening crack gave way to a residual flash of lightning. The remnants of the storm cried out into the sky for vengeance to all that had escaped its wrath. She yelped in shock, as he was suddenly right behind her. "I'm one of the most lethal Pirate Captains of the age. I may have spared you, but you have no idea what I would do." A strained gasp escaped when he whispered into her smooth neck. The waves of hair fell to one side under her hood. "But you. You're perhaps worse than I, you're not blameless," He said darkly. "So I'll ask you again... You hid yourself on my vessel, in attempts to what - to kill me? Did someone send you?"

The maiden's breath hitched in her throat. "So hardened by the life of a pirate that you assume the worst of anyone... I've told you, I wouldn't - I could never." She sounded innocent. "Please." Her head angled toward him, her eyes had grown wide and wet, and her voice aching, as though the thought of doing him harm caused her pain. Even though he'd been the one that had her strewn up in his room and surely she was in worse pain, with her wrists raw and red. "You know I would never."

"Why should I believe a single utterance from your lips, when you have shown me little more than deceit?" A finger reached down and parted her lips with their rough textured tip. The silkiness, he had been compelled to touch. "How am I not to think these are not the lips of a traitor, when only one with traitorous aims would hide themselves as a stowaway aboard my ship?"

"Then, I'll have to show you... To make you see..." The maiden's tone was downcast, but only on Wayne's behalf. After all, he was a man who had seen such atrocities that he had grown desensitized. He could never easily believe in another, even if they had no malicious intent. One could swear she leaned into his touch, even brushed his digit ever so gently with the cupid's bow. "I am not."

Wayne withdrew his finger from her warmth to stand before her, somehow waiting for her to show him, to prove it. When she lifted her hooded head, he felt the strength in the gaze she placed upon him; it was parallel to the pressure on the ocean floor. Shameless eyes, she took him in with the most undeniably, desperate need. Those dark eyes of hers traced stroke after stroke into him, the deep tan skin turned darker by the unfiltered sun's rays, though under those eyes Wayne's body had never felt more ablaze.

Oh how he wanted her to look at him, to burn through him with the intensity of her stare like the scorching sun bleaching the wood of the top most deck. More than he had ever wanted anything in his life, he wanted to hold her and for her to look at him as she did. More than he had ever wanted anyone to look at him.

Wave after wave of drunken heat crashed over him as she took him inch by inch. The salt water whipped waves of dark hair, aqua green eyes. The leather strings of his tunic that lay unlaced with the front falling open to reveal the planes of a broad, muscular chest. The tanned flesh was a stunning contrast to the white fabric, with the rolled up sleeves revealing scars set upon the rich skin. The snug fit brown leather trousers did little to disguise that he longed for the chance to drink her in and then drink her down until he was drowning in her.

It was dangerous to have her on board this ship.

All caution fell away when compulsion drew him nearer, called his breath to brush her cheek. And she inched upward as several bristles of stubble scratched her neck. Her eyelids fluttered and the entirety of her being almost reverberated. And he heard a tiny note of a noise scale up the back of her throat. One of pleasure.

He closed his eyes and savored the song from the siren's lips. That illustrious sound of music, it was far better than he had mused. At once, he had to clear his senses, to distance himself from her. He stood by the door. His hand pressed into the wood wall, catching his breath.

But at last she spoke. Her voice was raspy, though in it was a concession. "Whatever punishment you ultimately decide - I will accept. And... I do not fault you for it."

No adequate explanation or reasoning and he longed to do whatever she asked. Baseless, he wanted to believe her.

Suddenly, Wayne sought to go against everything he stood for.

He took long strides over to where she sat with his leather boots creaking on the surface of the wood floor. A shadow fell over her, it grew until the maiden gasped. She sat up sharply, feeling the ends of her ropes loosened from around the wooden mast. She stood, slowly and shakily and searched for her former captor. As quick as the turn of tides, he had materialized by the windows whose shapes carved out a wide view of the endless blue reflecting the stars and moon.

"Did you just - free me?" Her wrists were still wrapped, but no longer tied to the mast. The maiden massaged her hands, they were finally regaining feeling. "Why...?"

"No more questions." Wayne said urgently, his back to her. "Come here, into the light."

"The light?"

"You wanted me to see you, to believe you..." Captain Wayne repeated.

"Yes," The maiden lingered by the pole, shaking her head slowly. "Do you...?"

"That remains to be seen..." He said cryptically. "But, I gave you an order... I wish to see you...properly."

The maiden had gazed upon him for a time and arrived at an answer. What would happen if he did the same?

"Oh..." Her cheeks tinted with rouge. But she sounded almost eager. "Yes, Captain."

Was it an eagerness to be close to him?

Upon her approach, he seized the ends of the rope in one hand, to take her in and to take in the white dress under her cloak. The long sleeves, the lacing of the corset secured the tight bodice to her tiny waist in ways that made him thirst as though he'd swallowed several gallons of saltwater. At last, he removed her hood and angled her chin to examine the unnaturally pale skin, almost in violent opposition to the thick tresses, they were jet black, located at the other end of the spectrum. With fast fingers, he brushed the hair away. The soft skin smoothed onto her sharp cheekbones. He settled upon the eyes carved into the marble.

They were blue-violets and lavenders. Perhaps, purples and magentas. Inconceivably, sapphire, amethyst, and ruby. All manner of flowers, hues, stones were fused together in fire to paint vibrant colors and brilliance he had never seen. The treasures and cosmos abound in those orbs alone shouldn't have been allowed to take shape. The ripples throughout him thought otherwise, his body pulled toward her, aura reaching out through the rope, the tethers were a link bridging the physical over to the subliminal, finally manifesting in his breath reaching out beyond his body to feel her.

Yes.

All that he thought he once knew was threatened, this maiden had turned the tides and now it was he who was captive.

A woman like her couldn't exist - shouldn't exist.

How, if her presence alone could rise up and give shape to feelings of which he hadn't spoken the names. And if he had known of their existence, he thought them to be myths. But how were they fancies, if there were a mythical creature standing before him?

Who or what was she?

The maiden bit her lip, still gazing up at him through the curtain of her dark lashes, as they stood together in the light twice forged from silver light of moonbeams and fire from whittled down candles. Her eyes were half-lidded, as they drew to close. And his grip on the rope slackened, the captain tilted downward to her until his mouth hovered within an inch of her own. Her chest started to rise and fall faster in the low neckline - crests of waves - pushed up by the corset and Wayne needed her, so much already, he knew she had breached through the hull of him.

*

"Captain, you wished to see me, privately?" Wayne glanced twice around the deck, ensuring there were no onlookers, before he feathered Raven's palm, twining their fingers and pulling her through the door to his quarters. An excited blush rose on her face, but her expression remained neutral as she awaited his orders.

Whatever was between them, there was still the matter of what to do with her. The crew had a code, it mandated she had to be punished, but if not made useful in some manner. A captain and his crew mates had to see to that. There was a stowaway onboard that claimed she wanted to stay and he had to be impartial. Or at least attempt to do so.

"I see, you're settling in, but your place here is not set." He frowned. "You would like freedom and free passage aboard my ship. And in exchange what will you offer me?" The captain folded his arms. "I found you with no personal effects on you. Nothing of value. You have nothing to barter, a fact of which we are both aware." It would have been laughable to some to negotiate terms with a stowaway, but Wayne was willing to hear her.

Raven's eyes sparked with that defiant, daring he had come to know from her. "I may not breathe the ins and outs of seafaring life into my bones or blood, as you pirates do, but there are things I do know..." She paused. "You think I have nothing of value, but..."

"But?" Wayne paused and turned to her fully.

"I... have myself."

"You?" He cocked his head. It was undeniable that his interest had been peaked. He wet his lips. "Elaborate... I would like to understand your terms properly."

"Surely, it should suffice... If you claim me... If I'm yours..." Her heart began to pound flippantly. "The Captain's woman..."

[yinses]

sweetie,can I request mori nsfw scenario with kinks 👉🏻👈🏻 pls include daddy kink 🥺🥺

ofc i can. never knew i needed daddy!mori in my life yet here we are. i probably wrote this 5 times ?? before i was happy with it?

“mori~”

expectedly, your simpering whine went ignored much like the few prior you had tried to gain attention with. slouched lazily in the study chair which had been dragged away from the bookshelf, you had adamantly made your boredom known. and understanding your phlight, but unwilling to offer a reprieve, the doctor-turned-mafia boss had managed to ignore you for the better part of the last hour. but you could tell your insistence was waning his patience. 

“daddyyy~”

unable to neglect the obvious bribe the man reluctantly shifted his gaze to the expecting cheshire smile. 

“yes, princess?”

stretching your leg over the arm of the chair, your head fell back against its opposite in a dramatic display of vexation. 

“i’m bored.”

there was a quiet pause, before he responded with a sigh. 

“i’m aware but i told you i wouldn’t be able to entertain you much this afternoon. yet you insisted on coming.”

it was because you had expected him to cave by now. but your tolerance had only degraded further the longer you waited for him to crack and offer to take you into the city. the two of you shared a mutual joy of purchasing things- well, mori bought them for you and you showed them all with all the gratitude you could muster. 

the time spent shopping was therapeutic. it offered him the opportunity to escape the stressor of his occupation and in turn he was able to indulge the frivolous lifestyle you’d become accustomed to. 

“ honestly, this can be such a tiring position. i almost regret taking it.”

“didn’t you kill for it? that seems like it would be something to regret more.”

sharp eyes return to your mouth where you finished off another pastry-possibly out of boredom likely out of spite. lunch had rolled around within the hour and you hadn’t missed the opportunity to have a tray of treats brought in. he’d been to busy with work to take notice, but now he realized you hadn’t cared anyway, already eating your way through what should have been his share. 

you had been in his office all day, in some sort of fashion, a privilege he granted earnestly as long as you maintained your place. he agreed that you belonged at his side, but that didn’t mean you were his right. which often meant keeping your nose out of sensitive business and your opinions to yourself in the admist of varying members of the mafia. 

he knew you listened though. whether you were interacting with elise or entertaining yourself curled up by the bookshelf, you always had an ear towards the main act in the room. as a leader of a nefarious organization with critical information, he should be concerned but you both knew of the consequences should you be too free willing with such confidential matters. 

at this stage in your union, you weren’t sure if he would kill you over the matter. but you knew he wouldn’t be above stripping your rights and estrange your connections to the outside world. 

even now, as his gaze continued to peel back your layers with each calculated consideration, you wondered if he had a private secluded room just waiting for you to slip up. at the flick of your tongue wetting your lips, his attention snapped instinctively to the distraction. it was when your lips curled into a knowing smile that his eyes lifted. 

“why don’t you come over here?” his command was detailed with additional instructions as he moved his chair far back enough to reveal his lap in invitation. you obeyed without question. his dark gaze following your form as you skipped around the furniture, the dress purchased sliding effortlessly across your thighs before it flared out as your bottom settled on his thigh. 

unaware, or likely simply ignoring the pinch of his brow, you snuck a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “you’re so tense. you should take a break and play with me a bit, it will be good for your health,” you coo. 

mori doesn’t miss how your thighs part with provocation. he takes the bait without thought, the smooth linen of his gloves gliding across you skin without friction. with his other hand, he tangles his fingers in your hair to tilt your face to him. the kiss he delivers is chaste. intentionally short so that you give chase. 

pouting, you manage to nimble at his lower lip before he’s out of reach. “daddy.”

you go to say more, but find yourself distracted by the finger that had snuck under your clothing, stroking your core. it curled and hinged at the cut of your panties, drawing them aside to allow the pad of his thumb to smear the pooling wetness. your mouth falls open, mouthing wordless against his neck as you resist the urge to rock into the ministrations. 

as if taking note and offering a reward, a single gloved finger slides into your aperture. the contrasting dry fabric in dichotomy with your sopping cunt provides a different adhesion than the innocent touch at your thigh. 

“an obstinate little thing like you surely doesn’t deserve this.” yet despite your tinge of fear, he doesn’t stop. instead a second joins the first, until you’re stuffed on his soiled gloves. breathing heavily against his neck, you offer an apologetic kiss to his cheek. 

“i only want to help, daddy.”

the hum he makes is noncommittal as his fingers continue to idly move in and out of you. its just enough to ignite your desire but not as you need to teeter the end. it takes all your self restraint not to huff.

the hold on your hair goes slack, but the prompt of your whimper comes from him removing his fingers. the loss of him is as infuriating as it is intoxicating but you still your tongue. mori’s eyes soak in the warmth flooding your cheeks and he laughs outright. 

“come on then, up.” he enunciates the command with a tap to your skin and you do so with pursed lips. you want nothing more than to take initiative and remove the fabric clinging uncomfortable to your cunt but ignore the discomfort .

“i’ve decided that i’ll fuck you over the desk.”

something chilling flashes in his gaze as you squirm eagerly at the proposition, wondering if you’ll feel the wood kiss your front or back. this was of course all for his sake, so either would be fine for you. 

“but you wont come from it.”

he’s laughing now, deep and rich as the octaves kindle your fire. there’s something sadistic in the tilt of his grin as he coos back,” you wanted to help me, right? is this not all about me?”

the grit of your teeth clenched together make it impossible for you to answer further than a nod. rather than scold you for withholding a verbal response. his body slides against you as he stands, hand already working at his buckle and freeing his cock. 

“on your back then. don’t keep daddy waiting.”

despite knowing the outcome, your thighs to tremble with trepidation as you ease yourself back against the desk. balanced at your elbows, you leave your legs to hang at the backs of your knee. before you can spread your legs to properly accommodate him, he’s taking the task from you, drawing one leg over his hip as he coats his cock against your dripping cunt then pushing in. 

he’s still soft around the edges as he drives through your slick passage, but that quickly changes as he adapts to a pace of his liking. his hold is purposeful, bracing your hips still when you try to shift to an angle that doesn’t bring him in contact with sensitive nub on every thrust. but mori knows you inside and out without relying on one patch of nerves to draw you out. 

he goes to the hilt with each drive, grounding against your clit. “i should stuff my gloves down your throat. they’re ruined anyway. but you’d like that too much wouldn’t you? i don’t want to make this too hard for you.”

the condescension in his words are thick, the viscosity sticking to you rather than rolling off. words are reduced to fragile gasps, broken apart by his thrusts. “no, daddy. i want you to hear me. it’s all for you.”

if he’s pleased with your answer he doesn’t vocalize it, but his actions speak for his libido as it skyrockets. his nails plant half-moon crescents into your skin as he fucks you senseless. mori wasn’t overly thick, but he made up for it with curve and length, each variable a promising invitation to tear an orgasm out of you. 

mori doesn’t speak, but his pace challenges you-dares you to slip up and disobey. every sharp jab and twist coaxes your sensitive nerves to betray you. quickly, you worked against his efforts, mewls and strangled speech spilling from your lips. mori was as easily swayed by your stubbornness as he was by your ability to submit willingly. begging was your ultimate trap in loosening his own control as he suddenly pulled out of you and dropped his grip in favor of his cock. 

his stokes were short as he angled his release onto you, a free hand drawing up your dress to give him more room to spill onto your stomach and breasts. he watched as you moved obediently without prompt, fingers sliding through his cum. collected on your fingertips, you drew them into your mouth, humming thankfully as you held his gaze. 

mori fell back into his chair heavily, basking in his after glow and the site of you cleaning yourself up. “i’ve trained such a dirty girl, haven’t i?’’ he coos.

you wait for him to zip himself up and straighten his appearance, but he doesn’t. the command for you to remove yourself from his workspace doesn't either. instead, you hear the scrapping of the chair as it slides against the floor, drawing mori under its hidden depths. 

“i think you make a fine center piece, darling. why doesn’t you lay there for a moment and catch your breath while i finish up. then we’ll see about some proper playtime.”

[phoukanamedpookie]

The meaning of hallucinating Ursa

Azula’s hallucination of Ursa is often used as evidence of her psychosis, but the content of that hallucination and what it reveals about her are rarely explored in depth. That’s unfortunate because it’s so key to understanding who she really is versus who she pretends to be.

Let’s set the scene. It’s the day of Azula’s coronation. She’s by herself in her private quarters. She’s dismissed everybody--guards, servants, Dai Li agents, even Lo and Li--because none of them can be trusted. Now, for the first time in the series, Azula is completely alone.

The first thing she does is hack off some of her hair, as if her own body has betrayed her. As she smiles triumphantly at this minor exercise of control, she hears a voice, and the voice is her mother’s.

“What a shame. You always had such beautiful hair.”

Of all people, why does Azula imagine her mother being there?

If, at her core, Azula was all about her own self-aggrandizement, there are tons of other people she could’ve imagine in that moment, tons of people she could hallucinate so she could rub their faces in her triumph. 

But on her big day, the person she sees, the presence she craves, is her mother.

“I didn’t want to miss my own daughter’s coronation.”

Unlike the Ursa in the flashbacks, the Ursa in Azula’s mind doesn’t scold or wonder what’s wrong with her. She praises Azula for a trait she values about herself (her hair), expresses pride in Azula’s accomplishment.

As much as Azula tries to reject her need for her mother, (”Don’t pretend to act proud.”), she wants to make her mother proud more than anything.

“I think you’re confused. All your life, you’ve used fear to control people, like your friends Mai and Ty Lee.”

Now we’re starting to dig into what Azula's really like beneath that put-together exterior she projects to the world. That Azula knows exactly what she wants and exactly how to get it. That Azula gets shit done, perfectly, without a hair out of place.

But what does the voice in her head that sounds like her mom reveal about her? She’s confused. 

Remember: Azula is convinced that her own mother, the one person who should love her unconditionally, views her as a monster, something utterly repulsive and unlovable. There is some deep, deep, deep self-loathing going on there.

That is the source of Azula’s choice to use fear to control others. But it stops working. Judging by how starved Azula is for affection and companionship, I’d argue that it never worked. It just put a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

But fear was all she had. Now what does she do?

“I love you, Azula. I do.”

This is the part she can’t handle. This is the part that’s too much.

Thus far, what has this imaginary Ursa done? She’s complimented Azula, expressed pride in her accomplishment, been gentle and patient with her, and offered wisdom and guidance. Basic mom stuff.

But what makes Azula fall apart? When the Ursa in her head gives her unconditional love.

And there you have it. At her core, Azula is desperate for unconditional love, but she sees herself as inherently unworthy of it, so she rejects even the possibility of it being extended to her. It leads to a tragic, repeating cycle of self-loathing and denial of a need for human connection: “I’m a monster. No one can love me. Then let me be feared. See, they don’t love me. I’m a monster.”

Where does Azula go from here?

I know people like Aaron Ehasz’s outline of a continued character arc for Azula, but I’m lukewarm about it at best. Azula has already been defeated and humiliated. She’s already had her world shattered. To inflict more pain and suffering on her would feel sadistic. Yes, she should face and overcome obstacles, but I’m not interested in seeing her getting kicked while she’s down.

I’m also lukewarm about Azula’s recovery and triumph being all about Zuko. As much as I’d like to see him act like more of a brother to her, Azula deserves to be her own character, and not just an extension of his.

Personally, I think Ursa should play a much bigger role in Azula’s turnaround than Zuko. First, Ursa looms much larger than Zuko in her psyche. Second, for all that AtLA does right, the show has a real Dead/Missing Mom problem, and bringing Ursa back into the picture would do a lot to rectify that.

[sisterspooky1013]

Perfect Opposites, chapter three

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: General audiences

Tagging @today-in-fic

Read the first two chapters here on A03

The first clue was the need to pee constantly. On a drive out to Massachusetts, I’d had to ask Harry to stop every 45 minutes and he was openly irritated, lecturing me for drinking too much coffee. That night we were making love and when he squeezed my breast I shrieked with how much it hurt. That wasn’t normal for me. I didn’t say anything to Harry because I didn’t want to worry him, but when I tried to recall my last period I realized it was at least two months ago. To say I was scared was an understatement; I was petrified. For three years we’d kept things under wraps, no one the wiser that we were more than just coworkers, but you couldn’t hide a pregnancy. And back then, there was still a lot of stigma about unwed mothers. Walking around the Hoover building with a big belly and no ring was sure to ruin my career prospects, even if we managed to avoid anyone finding out that Harry was the father.

I had a friend, someone I trusted, who worked in the lab, and I asked them to run a pregnancy test for me. It took a couple days before they could sneak it in among other work but the result was positive. Very, very positive. HCG levels that suggested I was close to 10 weeks along. I had a pit in my stomach all day thinking about telling Harry. He was going to be mad, maybe even tell me to get rid of it. And I knew that would be the best thing to do, for our careers, but there was a part of me that wanted this baby. Maybe he would have Harry’s blue eyes and my dark hair. Maybe she would be tall and slender like him with my wavy curls. Harry and I had long since confessed that we were wildly in love, and having a baby, his baby, felt like the ultimate expression of that love. What if he made me choose, him or the baby? I don’t know if the vomiting that occurred directly after that thought was due to nausea or the idea of losing Harry or our baby.

He knew something was wrong, of course. He could read me like a book, saw my pensive expression and heard the deep breaths pushed through my nose as I begged my stomach to calm. He asked me several times that day if I was okay, and I told him I was feeling a little sick and wanted to go home. The way he looked at me, I was sure he could tell. He could see inside by body somehow, see the little life forming in my belly. I listened as he called AD Kirkbride and told him that I was very sick and he needed to drive me home, that we’d both be out the rest of the day. He didn’t say anything as we walked out to his car, drove the 35 minutes to my apartment, walked inside. He must know, must have wanted to get me someplace private so he could tell me that I needed to have an abortion, that there was no space in this twisted life we’d built for a baby. I knew I’d have to tell him no, I couldn’t do it. I wanted this baby. I wanted HIS baby. I knew I was about to lose him.

I sat on the couch and he kneeled on the floor in front of me, his hands resting gently on my knees.

“What is it, Bunny? What’s wrong?” My heart lurched hearing him use his private pet name for me. Would this be the last time I’d hear it?

“I-” the words got caught as a wave of nausea hit me. I pushed him aside and ran into the bathroom, dry heaving painfully. His hand was on my lower back, rubbing small circles as he brushed my hair away from my face with the other. When it passed, I sat back against the wall, tears running down my cheeks quietly. When I looked at his face, his blue eyes were so full of worry and fear, and so much love.

“Are you sick, Bunny? Really sick?”

“I-. I’m pregnant.” It came out in a barely audible whisper, as the unspeakable tends to. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see his reaction. I didn’t want to have a visual memory of the moment I lost him.

He was quiet. So incredibly quiet. He didn’t yell, didn’t question. His hand on my leg was the only sign he still existed. Finally I opened my eyes and saw a face so beautiful that I’m forever grateful that I looked. His eyes were soft and wet, his lips parted and the corners betraying a tiny smile. His expression was so rapturously happy, so deliriously overjoyed, and I felt the weight that had settled on my shoulders take flight, releasing me from the prison of doubt.

“Bunny, we’re gonna have a baby?” His whispered question was paired with a single tear breaking loose, traveling down to wrap around his square jaw where I wiped it away with my thumb as I nodded.

“Oh my god” he breathed, and pulled me to him, burying his face his my neck. He squeezed me so tight, and I knew in that moment that he wasn’t going anywhere. We sat on the bathroom floor, next to the toilet that was stained with my bile, and cried the happiest tears. Finally he pulled away and his expression became solemn, serious.

“We should get married” he said, with so much conviction.

“What? Harry, we can’t get married. We can’t even-how are we going to have a baby? They’ll know, it’s not allowed, I-”

“We’ll tell them, then. It was going to happen eventually. I know they’ll split us up, but even if we don’t work together, we can be together every day. We can be married, we can have our baby. We can have a real life together, Bunny. You and me, and our baby. I love you so much, I want this. I want you.”

I don’t know how early pregnancy hormones can make you emotional, but I cried more that day than I ever had in my life. The next time I cried that way would be the day Harry died.

The next day we went together to tell AD Kirkbride. We were both shocked that instead of anger, surprise or disgust, he smiled and shook his head, saying “about damn time.” He called over to the VCU right away and secured Harry a spot there, filed the paperwork that officially ended our partnership with the FBI, and said he expected an invitation to our wedding.

Our life was far from perfect. We fought, we struggled to keep up with work and two small children, Harry was injured in the line of duty and I almost lost him. Then I did lose him, forever. I’ve missed him every single day, but I wouldn’t change anything about it. Harry didn’t believe in soulmates, but I do, and I know he was mine. As time marches on my aging body continues to fail me, these memories are still as clear as the day they happened. I let them play like a movie in my mind as I sit on a park bench, enjoying the sunshine on my skin. My daughter Trudy comes by the retirement home I live in now a couple times a week and brings me here to get some fresh air, to people watch. The world has changed so drastically in the years since Harry and I fell in love in an endless series of rental cars and hotel rooms, the young lovers sitting at the café across the street now engrossed in cell phones instead of newspapers, the year 2020 looming only a couple trips around the sun away. I feel content that I’ve squeezed all the joy I could out of this life, and I look forward to seeing Harry again soon, in whatever form the afterlife takes.

It’s here, on this sunny park bench, that I see them again. I wasn’t sure it was really them at first, her red hair a bit less vibrant than it once was, his face a little fuller, marked by age but still devastatingly handsome. They’re finding their way to a table, cups of coffee in hand, his familiar touch on her back present as ever. As she turns to sit, I see the swell of her belly and my heart aches with a familiar happiness. They talk and sip their coffee, sitting closer than is necessary, his hand lovingly stroking her belly before he leans in to place a soft kiss on her forehead as she smiles contentedly. I see the sun catch on his wedding band, the longing way she still gazes at his face, even after all these years. I miss Harry so much in this moment, wish I could feel his eyes on me again, so full of love and want. I watch them for a long time, until they stand and walk away hand in hand, marching on towards the rest of what life has to offer. Closing my eyes, I picture Harry’s face that day I told him that Trudy was growing in my own belly, when we had our whole lives ahead of us. I can feel him, pulling me against his body. I feel him now, calling me home to him, to the next chapter of our forever. My body on Earth grows heavy as I rise to meet him in a new embrace, unfettered by the bounds of physics and gravity, free to move through each other and truly become one being. He welcomes me with the cool practicality that made me fall in love with him in the first place; even in the great beyond he is himself, he is my Harry, my perfect opposite reimagined into a celestial wave of pure light.

“I’ve missed you Bunny” he says, but not with words. I hear him with my heart. He envelops me, bringing me into him, and we are together. Always. Forever.