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#eve best and the bees
mudanonaito · 1 year
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travelingtardis · 4 months
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THANK THE GODS THEY CHANGED RHAENYS’S HAIR
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eves-da-best · 1 year
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And the crowd goes WILD🐝
Eve Best Nation, I adore you. There is nothing more soul-filling to me than this, a group of individuals from every part of the globe collectively losing its mind over every sighting of the elusive Eve Best. 😅😍💖💖 Good luck to us all being productive at work or school or wherever we find ourselves today, struggling to think about anything other than THAT LOOK😍🥵
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holyhuppert · 1 year
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looking at eve best and trying not to scream MOTHER for an entire minute — challenge
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For @msfarahdowling
That interview is everything 🤣
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mmmooommmyyy · 1 year
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Ok now hear me out…
Farah the Fern
but she can communicate with the bees.
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freedomfireflies · 3 months
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Better Not Pout*
Summary: The one where Harry isn't leaving until he gets what he really came for.
You.
Word Count: 10.6k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, violence, guns, gunplay, exhibitionism (This one-shot is a bit darker, so please only read if you feel comfortable! 💞)
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December 24th, 1945.
The streets of Chicago are cold. Windy. Dark. Everyone is either at home, visiting loved ones, or spending their Christmas Eve at the one place they know they’ll be welcome.
The Bees Knees – the renowned, underground speakeasy – is rather sparkling tonight. The customers continue to bustle in, some here for the booze, some here for the atmosphere and warmth, and some for the entertainment.
You.
You’re one of the establishments best performers, three nights of the week. Employed by none other than Johnny Winters himself to sing for the lost souls of Chicago as they drown their worries in a bottle of whiskey.
You quite like your job, and the people you work with. Milton, who tends the bar, always has a compliment to lend, offering you engaging small talk between sets or any new mixes he might make.
And Johnny isn’t so bad. But perhaps you’re a bit biased, seeing as he is your fiancé. But more than that, he’s one of the most powerful men in all of town. And considerably wealthy, which you suppose doesn’t exactly hurt.
But he’s also kind. Giving. And so very attentive. He spends every second he’s not working with you. Doting on you, showing you off to all of his friends. And having such a handsome man on your arm is certainly not the worst thing.
Tonight, however, Johnny is nowhere to be found. Which you don’t consider to be too terribly odd, given how much work he mentioned he’d be catching up on. 
Even still, he hates to miss your performances, and insisted that you keep a part of him with you as you take center stage tonight in the small bar.
That part happens to be in the form of a stunning red, silk dress that was gifted to you for this very occasion. It sits on your frame like it was always meant to be yours, hugging every desirable curve, and showcasing just enough skin to taunt the imagination of those in the audience.
You don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful, and you walk up the steps tonight with pride. Shoulders back and painted lips poised with your first song.
The few gentlemen scattered across the main floor holler when the spotlight finds you, and you offer your signature smile.
“Evening, gentleman,” you call as the pianist begins behind you. “How are you all doing tonight?”
A few whistles are offered that make you laugh, and just like that…the show begins.
Santa Claus Came in the Spring is always a favorite, and you croon the festive lyrics while the live band follows your lead.
And even though the crowd is rather dull and distracted, you have a blast. You feel comfortable in this role and in the way their eyes drink you in. Even if their attention drifts between you, their drinks, and the cigars.
In fact, you get so swept up in your act that you hardly notice the door open or the tall, lanky stranger that slinks in from the cold.
But when his head lifts, and his eyes find yours, you feel a hitch in your throat.
Unfortunately, he looks away all too quickly, pulling off his trench coat before moving along the shadows toward the far end of the bar.
He goes unnoticed by those around him, yet your attention follows him all the way to the booth that he settles in. And it stays even after he’s leaned back, gotten comfortable, and pulled a cigarette from his rather expensive looking suit pocket.
But even though your focus has drifted, you don’t miss a single beat of the song. After all, you could sing it in your sleep, and this habit serves you well as the intriguing stranger finally shifts into the light and allows you a better look at his face.
He’s…stunning. Absolutely beautiful, with his slicked back curls, sharp jaw, and pointed nose. And he’s lighting the end of a cigarette with what you can only call practiced precision before perching it between his two, crimson-colored lips. 
Rings adorn his fingers as he holds the nicotine to his mouth, inhaling a long drag before exhaling the dark smoke from his lungs.
Yet unlike the other patrons in the bar, this man seems to be rather put together. He’s not missing any teeth, his skin isn’t stained with dirt or grease, and his clothes appear to be rather new. It’s quite the upgrade from the usual appearance you’ve grown used to, and you can’t help but feel rather relaxed.
And it’s now that you realize that this striking stranger seems to be watching you much like you’re watching him. Studying your dress, your silhouette, the way you grip the microphone stand. He takes in each detail presented before him with what looks to be wonder, and your cheeks instantly grow warm.
Still, you carry on with the ballad, making your way through the final chorus and the last few notes as the band plays you out with a flourish.
The few men in front of the stage clap, and you smile gratefully as you nod your thanks and call out your appreciation.
Jingle Bells is next, and a few more people join in on the fun this time around. They clink their glasses together or belt out the lyrics a few seconds too late and wildly off-key.
Even still, it’s rather fun as you continue on with your set before finally wrapping it up with a high note that’s accompanied by a rather lively trumpet solo.
And once it’s all over, the room bursts into applause. You wave to the growing audience, taking a quick bow before gesturing toward the band. Offering them their due praise which the crowed quickly obliges.
But you notice the man in the booth keeps his expression indifferent as he continues to watch you exit the stage and make your way to the bar. He doesn’t applaud your performance or even offer a smile of encouragement. He merely takes another hit of his cigarette and throws his arm over the back of his seat. A position you imagine is intended to display dominance more than it is to find comfort.
Truth be told, you find it rather unnerving. He doesn’t seem to be here for the alcohol or the company. Perhaps he’s only here to get out of the cold or perhaps he’s avoiding his home.
Either way, his focus stays only with you, and you feel a sharp chill run down your spine as you turn to the counter and flag down Milton’s attention.
You ask for a drink and request that he tell Johnny that you’ll be waiting in his office until he arrives. 
He quickly agrees, preparing the beverage for you before jutting his chin toward the silent stranger.
“Want me to have him escorted out?” he asks, but you only smile as you shake your head.
“No need, I’m sure he’s harmless.” You take the crystal glass and tip it toward him in thanks. “Besides, the attention is rather nice.”
Milton nods his understanding and you leave it at that, taking your drink toward the hallway just off the corner of the room.
You sip leisurely as you stroll to Johnny’s office, picking up the edge of your long gown so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The sounds of the crowd grow quieter and quieter with each step you take, and soon, it’s nothing but silence.
After retrieving the key Johnny insisted you keep on you at all times, you slip open the door, and make your way inside.
It’s quite dark, given the time of night and lack of lighting. He’s only got three lamps in the room, one by the window, one on the shelf, and one on his desk.
Right beside a photo of you.
Getting your photograph taken is quite the privilege, but Johnny insisted he have a vision of you in his office at all times. And you couldn’t help but indulge him, allowing him to dress you up and place you in front of the large contraption one Sunday afternoon in spring.
It’s his favorite thing in the entire world, and he mentions it constantly. Commenting on your beauty or your ethereal outfit. You know he’s only trying to embarrass you, but it’s still rather flattering to hear.
You grin to yourself as you take a seat in the large chair behind the wooden table. Downing the rest of the contents in your glass before setting it down and taking a glance around the large space.
Vaguely, you hear footsteps approaching just outside the door. Echoing through the hall as your grin grows a bit wider. 
And as the knob turns, you expect to see the handsome face of your Johnny.
What you don’t expect, however, is the green-eyed devil and his quiet charm.
He’s followed you. You assume this immediately, and your heart leaps into your throat as he steps inside…and shuts the door behind him.
A tense silence settles between you as you slowly sit up and force in a quiet breath. “Hello,” you call quietly.
The sound of your unsteady voice seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling up as the burning cigarette sits tucked between his lips. “Hello, mama.”
You feel your lashes flutter. “Can…can I help you?”
“I’m looking for your fiancé,” he says, and his voice is low. Deep. And you believe you catch just a hint of an English accent. “This is in fact his office, is it not?”
You hesitate, unsure whether or not to disclose such information to a stranger. “It…yes. Yes, but he’s not here right now. Perhaps you could come back later?”
“Later,” he repeats, almost thoughtfully as his head tilts. Then, he tsks. “See, I’m afraid later just doesn’t work for me. I need to speak with him right now. It’s quite urgent, and I’d like to finish this up and be home to my lover by midnight.”
“Oh…” You shift a bit in your seat and hope he doesn’t notice how nervous you’ve become. “Well, I would love to help, but I don’t believe I know when he’ll be in.”
He considers this for a moment before striding further into the room. Eyes tracking every tremble of your fingers and heave of your chest. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?” he murmurs, placing both hands on the desk and leaning closer.
You nod.
“Your boy Johnny owes me money,” he whispers. “And I’m here to collect.”
And now you understand. Now you know why he’s here. Because even though his tone is friendly, it can’t disguise the threat you know lingers underneath. 
“Oh,” you whisper back, and he hums.
“Exactly. And I’m a pretty reasonable guy. Decent. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He begins to smirk behind the cigarette. “If he’s not here within the next five minutes…you and I will find another way.”
The truth is, you don’t really know too much about the financial side of Johnny’s affairs and business. You know he has plenty of money, but you don’t know what he does with it. Or where he keeps it.
And if this alluring stranger seems to think you’ll be his key…you’re afraid he’ll be mistaken.
“Problem, Doll?” He seems smug, and it makes your skin crawl. “M’not scaring you, am I?”
The answer is obvious to you both, but you force yourself straighter and attempt to appear calm. “Not at all, sir. I only want to help.”
"Mm? Good girl,” he mumbles, eyes flicking down to your painted red lips. “Knew you’d behave for me.”
Your heart is hammering inside of your chest. You’re unsure what to do now. Do you ask him to leave? Do you scream for help? Do you call the police?
And where the hell is Johnny?
He should be here by now, especially after promising to wrap up his meeting early in order to catch your last performance before Christmas. He’s always here. One of your biggest fans and greatest protectors. 
The only thing you can truly think to do now is attempt to call him. You figure the police won’t get here in time, but at least if this gentleman can be assured that Johnny is on his way, he won’t be as inclined to act rashly.
However, the moment your fingers lift from the desk in order to reach for the phone, the stranger reaches for something, too.
In a matter of seconds, he’s wrapping his hand around the barrel of a gun, pulling it from his back pocket, and aiming it straight at your head. Cocking it loudly as you gasp and withdraw your arm as quickly as possible.
“What are you doin’, hm, mama?” There’s a haughty condescension in his sneer, laced with just the faintest disappointment. “Thought you were gonna be good.”
“I…I was just going to call him,” you stammer. “I know you’re in a hurry.”
The stranger studies you now, that familiar smirk beginning to fade as his attention flicks across your face. Perhaps he suspects a lie or perhaps he merely doesn’t trust you, but truth be told, you know better than to try and pull a fast one on him. 
Finally, he plucks his cigarette from between his lips before tossing it to the floor and nodding at you. “Yeah? Go on, then,” he instructs, reposition the barrel at your chest. “Call your little pretty boy. Tell him he’s got a visitor.”
With a racing pulse, you once again slowly reach for the telephone, eyeing the gun carefully as you scoot closer.
You’re careful not to make any sudden moments. Hesitant to even look at him for fear of upsetting him, but your timid demeanor only entertains him further.
He simply chuckles as he slowly makes his way over to your side of the desk. Snatching up the phone just before you can reach for it and handing it to you almost cockily.
Curious, you glance up. That soft green in his eye is almost alluring, even despite the circumstance. Still, he reeks of nicotine and expensive cologne, and you lean back in an attempt to put as much space between you as you can.
He smiles. “I’m gonna watch you dial,” he tells you calmly. “Make sure you keep your word. Okay, Doll?”
Posed like a question, although you both know you don’t exactly have a choice. And you'd likely point this out if you were just a touch braver, but nevertheless, you nod. Agreeing to his terms as you take the phone and begin to dial.
As the seconds go by, you feel him watching you closely while the line rings. Leaving you to desperately await the sound of your sweet Johnny’s voice. A sound you’ve never needed more than in this moment.
Yet his voice never comes, and your heart sinks to the cold floor blow as you return the phone to the desk.
“He…he must already be on his way,” you murmur, and the man hums.
“You think so?”
You nod weakly.
He takes a seat on the edge of the desk, just inches from your arm before leaning closer. “How much are you willing to bet, hm?” His brow raises. “How sure are you that your precious fiancé will actually save you tonight?”
You feel trapped by him now. The closer he moves, the faster your heart pounds. You have nowhere to run, no personal space to disappear into. 
But you only have to hold on for just a little longer. Johnny will come for you. He always does.
“Incredibly sure,” you respond, ignoring the slight waver in your voice. “He said he would be, so he will.”
The man considers this before clicking his tongue. “All right. Then how about I make you another deal, yeah? For every minute he’s late, and for every minute he leaves you here unattended…I’ll put an extra bullet through his head.”
A sharp chill runs down your spine, skin growing hot and prickly, but you force your expression to remain unfazed. “And why would you do that if you need him so badly?”
The gentleman laughs now. A sound that would almost be charming if he weren’t so vile. “Because I don’t need your precious Johnny,” he answers calmly. “I just need what’s in his safe.”
And despite the danger you’re in and despite your better judgment, your features scrunch into a grimace as you scoff, “Oh, how pathetic.”
Your reaction loosens his smile.
“Truly, how incredibly pathetic to come all the way down here at this time of night – and on Christmas Eve – just to break into his safe,” you huff. “Honestly. He won’t give you a damn thing. And you have absolutely no business to come storming in here and—”
You don’t get the chance to finish the rest of your furious scolding before he’s suddenly standing to his feet and wrapping his fingers around your arm.
Instantly, you’re yanked from your chair and shoved against the bookcase just behind you. Hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs as he traps you there, leaning in so close, his nose nearly brushes your own. 
“I’d be careful how you fucking speak to me, mama,” he seethes quietly, yet even still, there’s just an air of pleasure. “Because you might not get the chance to do it again.”
He’s desperate to scare you. Desperate to see you cry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.
Instead, you suck in a sharp breath, and do the one thing you can think to do:
You spit.
The collection of saliva just misses his eye, landing on his cheek with a rather wet splat until the amusement fades and fury takes its place.
His fingers leave your arm and find your throat, curling around the delicate skin and forcing your head up as he begins to chuckle darkly.
“So, that’s how you wanna play, hm, Doll?” Another tsk. “You wanna be bad? Wanna test my fucking patience?”
You squirm a bit in his hold, yet for some reason, you don’t feel as frightened as you did before. Because there’s this look in his eye – this hunger. And even though his grip is tight…you feel oddly safe.
“Better find a way to keep this pretty little mouth shut,” he says next, head cocking to the left almost curiously. “Or I’ll have to shut it for you.” 
His attention returns to your mouth, fingers slowly slipping up toward your chin until he can brush is thumb over the painted fibers of your lips.
Just enough to taunt you yet startle you all in the same second. 
“Maybe,” you finally breathe before jerking your head away from his cruel touch. “If you knew how.”
The cocky grin widens as his hand immediately returns to your neck. “Still disobeying me, hm?” he nearly purrs. “Guess I could always just squeeze this sweet, little throat to keep you quiet, yeah? Feel your pretty pulse beneath my fingertips. Feel the life drain from your body…watch the light go out in your eyes.”
You take in a strained inhale, and he makes a sound that almost sounds like a groan.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, moving in just a bit closer until his lips are ghosting across yours. “Or maybe…I could put my gun in your mouth. See how chatty you are then, yeah, mama?”
Your chest heaves anxiously, but you find just enough confidence to whisper, “But without your gun, how will everyone know what a tiny cock you have?”
And you’re so proud of yourself. So endlessly pleased with the way you’ve managed to make his smug expression waver, even if he keeps his smirk in place.
“Oh, you think that’s funny,” he snorts as you attempt to bite back a laugh. “Well, you wanna know what I think is funny? I think it’s funny that you said Johnny would be here…and he’s not.”
“He will be,” you retort, a bit firmer. “He will.”
“See…you keep saying that,” he muses, placing one hand on the bookshelf beside your head. Truly trapping you beneath him. “And yet…your noble fiancé still isn’t here to save you.”
You tilt your head back in an attempt to appear stronger, but it doesn’t seem to fool him. 
“Are you afraid?” he whispers, chest brushing against yours. “Are you afraid your Johnny won’t be able to keep you safe from the bad man?”
It’s almost hostile, the way he goads you. And yet you can hear just the slightest concern beneath his question.
“Or maybe you’re afraid he can’t pay up,” he continues. “Maybe you’re afraid he’ll have to find another way.”
Suddenly, the grip on your throat constricts. Recapturing your attention.
“Are you gonna be my other way, mama?” he exhales. “You gonna be my consolation prize?”
You feel dizzy. The room is spinning. And you aren’t sure if that’s because of the hold on your neck or the way he’s speaking to you. 
However, before you can decide if you’re actually intrigued by his intimidation tactics…the sound of footsteps echo outside through the hall.
Johnny.
It has to be him. You almost need it to be him, and your shoulders unwind as the man glances toward the closed door curiously before finally leaning back.
Then, he grabs onto your arm for a second time, and flings you back toward the chair. Shoving you down and keeping you still.
“You’re gonna sit here and you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hisses softly right as the door swings open. “And then maybe…I just might reward you.”
But you don’t even mind this malicious threat because then you see him. Your fiancé, smiling brightly as his eyes find you before they flick to the man to your right.
For a moment, he seems surprised, seemingly assessing your position and the situation before his grin widens. 
“Ah, Mr. Styles,” he calls as he strides into the room, quickly removing his hat and coat. “What a pleasant surprise. Did we have a meeting tonight?”
He seems relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as though he doesn’t view this man as a threat, and you aren’t sure whether to feel relieved or wildly confused. You hadn’t exactly expected him to grab the mysterious guest by the collar and throw him out the window, but you also didn’t expect him to welcome him with open arms. 
A strange man is alone with his future wife, in his office, in the middle of the night, and that doesn’t seem to concern him even a little?
Perhaps Johnny is far too friendly for his own good.
The gentleman, in turn, straightens up while subtly slipping the gun behind his back. Tucking it into his belt just out of view before Johnny can catch it. “Not quite,” he says coolly. “I’m here to discuss a bit of unfinished business.”
Your heart sinks, yet Johnny merely nods. “Ah, I see. Well, is there any way this can wait until after Christmas? It’s been a long night, and I’d like to be getting the lovely lady home.”
Now, both of their stares turn to you, and eagerly, you begin to rise from the chair. Grateful for the opportunity to leave this unsettling stranger behind.
Yet before you can even find your footing, the man’s hand is coming down in a firm smack on your shoulder to force you back down.
“I’m afraid the lovely lady isn’t going anywhere,” he replies, and you catch Johnny’s expression fall. “And neither are you. Have a seat.”
Johnny begins to frown. “Look, Harry, whatever business we might have, I’m sure it can—”
“I said, have…a seat,” the man – Harry – repeats a bit brasher. “Yeah? Or things will get a lot worse for your darling fiancé.”
Johnny hesitates, eyes flicking to yours. But he must notice the panicked look you wear because he finally sighs and does as instructed. Taking a seat in the chair just in front of the desk before glancing toward Harry.
Harry nods, almost proudly. “There you go. S’not so hard, is it?”
Johnny’s figure slumps but his lips purse together. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I just want to talk,” Harry says, his smirk returning. “And lucky for you, your schedule just cleared up.”
“Harry—” Johnny begins, leaning closer as though getting ready to stand.
But instantly, Harry is reaching back behind him for the gun, pulling it free, and aiming the barrel straight at his head.
Johnny quickly leans back, eyeing the weapon hesitantly while you gasp and glance up at the stranger pleadingly.
Harry only looks at Johnny. “See, I’m running out of fucking patience. Eight goddamn months I’ve had to listen to you go on and on about this special fucking shipment you got. And now…it’s time to collect.”
Your sweet fiancé understands now. Realizes why this man is here and how real the threat is, and glances back at you almost apologetically.
You merely mouth, “It’s okay.”
Johnny’s eyes flick back to the gun. “I’d be careful waving that thing around. Somebody might get hurt.”
The man merely hums. “Oh, I’m fucking counting on it.”
Now, the office grows quiet. A tense, charged sort of energy that filters between the three of you as Harry begins to walk around the desk.
“So,” he continues, grabbing onto the other free chair in order to spin it around and sit in a straddle, “where’s the safe, Johnny?”
Johnny’s brow raises, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. Down at the club, you said you just got a brand new, fancy safe to hold everything from your latest shipment. Practically bragged about it to the whole goddamn bar, yeah? So…where is it?”
With piqued interest, you look between the two men curiously as you await Johnny’s answer. You’ve never really been sure where he gets all his money. You assumed most of it came from the bar and alcohol sales, so you’re rather stumped by what sort of shipment they might be referring to.
However, Johnny isn’t so quick to divulge all his secrets. “And what is it you’re expecting to get out of my safe, Mr. Styles?”
There’s another heavy pause as Harry rests his arms over the back of the seat and whispers, “Everything.”
Instantly, Johnny scoffs. “You think you can storm into my office on Christmas Eve and threaten my fiancé? Threaten me? That you’re entitled to anything you damn well please?” A bitter scoff as he leans back. “You’ll be arrested before morning, and you’ll never see a red fucking cent.”
 His retort dangles between them for only a moment as a breath catches in your throat. Pulse racing as you watch the stranger’s reaction closely.
Yet the mystery man doesn’t so much as flinch as he suddenly repositions the gun into the air, aims it just to the left of Johnny’s head, and fires.
The sound is deafening, much like your sharp, shrill shriek as the bullet flies through the air – just missing Johnny’s ear – and lodges into the wall behind him.
Johnny immediately flinches, eyes screwing shut and muscles recoiling before he seems to realize that he remains unharmed.
And once he does, he takes a deep breath, and begins to smirk. “You missed.”
“Did I?” Harry runs his tongue over his bottom lip before re-cocking the gun. “No, see…I never fucking miss. That was your first warning.” 
Johnny simply snorts. “Yeah? Well, eat my shit.”
Things move quickly from there.
Harry is instantly on his feet, tossing the chair aside rather angrily before he’s turning to you once more. And you don’t even have a moment to think before you’re being yanked from the seat for a second time and immediately tugged to his chest as he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your temple. 
“Where’s the fucking safe, Johnny?” he says again, and you notice Johnny’s face pale.
“Styles,” Johnny murmurs, “you don’t have to do this—”
“The safe,” he seethes. “Where is it? Or do you need a little incentive, huh? Need to see her pretty little brains all over your goddamn floor? Is that what it’s gonna take?”
Poor Johnny doesn’t know what to do. He looks from the gun, to your face, to the arm keeping you hostage.
And you almost feel bad for him, yet you aren’t even afforded the chance for empathy before Harry furiously growls and shoves you in Johnny’s direction.
You stumble across the wooden floor until Johnny can quickly take you into his embrace, keeping you safe from the bad man as you begin to sniffle.
“My love,” he whispers, tightening his hold on your trembling frame while turning you away as if to protect you. “It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”
With a quick nod and a hiccup, you look up and slip your hands around his neck for comfort. “I know.”
He smiles.
It’s Harry’s disgusted sneer that brings you attention back. “Fucking pathetic. Really, mama? This is who you choose to save you?”
Your features fall ever-so-slightly while Johnny begins to pull you behind him, shielding you from the aggravated aggressor. “If you need money so badly, there are plenty of other ways.”
“It’s not just about money,” Harry retorts calmly. “It’s about your money. Yeah? So where’s the fucking safe.”
“None of your goddamn business—”
The reply no sooner leaves his mouth before there’s another gunshot fired into the air. 
One of the paintings on the wall falls with a crack and you jump almost two feet into the air, nails scratching down Johnny’s nice shirt.
“Johnny,” you whisper faintly, refusing to let this go on any longer. “Johnny, tell him. Tell him, please. I don’t care about the money; I don’t care about any of it. I just want you. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”
The office falls silent as you request hangs in the air, and you feel Johnny take in a deep breath.
“Yeah, Johnny,” Harry adds in a condescending murmur. “She loves you. Don’t make her watch you die. It’d be such a shameful waste of her tears.”
Johnny looks to you, and your expression softens. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “It’s okay, I promise.”
Finally, he sighs. “Under the desk.”
Harry’s head whips toward the large table curiously before he frowns. “Where?” he murmurs before repositioning the gun at Johnny’s chest. “I promise you don’t wanna lie to me.”
However, Johnny’s indifferent expression remains. “Under the desk,” he repeats while thrusting his chin toward the massive piece of furniture. 
And now Harry seems to understand, although it does little to relax him as he suddenly reaches for you again and yanks you from your lovers’ arms.
“Show me,” he hisses, keeping you hostage again while ushering Johnny forward with the barrel of the weapon. “And don’t be dense.”
And Johnny can do nothing but obey, seemingly defeated while sending you one last remorseful look. Finally moving to lift the desk and pull it back.
The sound of wood scraping against wood is heavy, and it takes him quite a while to relocate the table beneath the window by himself. 
But once it’s out of the way, you notice a particular part of the flooring juts out. The rotten board almost askew.
You and Harry lean closer, both magnetized by intrigue as he bends down in order to wrench the board up, revealing the hollow hiding place underneath.
And there you find it. The large, black box with a gold dial in the middle.
He glances up toward Harry, perhaps looking for permission – which Harry quickly gives him – before reaching down to put in the correct combination.
And after a couple seconds of clicking and turning…the door swings open.
Truth be told, you were hoping to find a secret gun that might help you out of this situation, but it seems there are no weapons to be found as Harry shoves you back in order to get a better look.
He no longer seems concerned about Johnny or the possibility that he might attempt to attack because Johnny seems to have given up. 
All your dejected fiancé does is straighten up and motion you back to him, watching Harry bend over and reach inside the safe almost uninterestedly. 
Your heart aches for him, yet you can’t help feeling relieved. You’re a few steps closer to this wretched night being over, and perhaps once Harry has what he came for, you’ll be able to leave.
“Are you all right?” Johnny whispers to you now as Harry begins to unload the contents in the floor. 
You nod quickly, clinging to his strong frame as though you’re scared you might be taken again. “Yes, I’m all right. Are you?”
“I will be once I know you’re safe,” he says, and your heart sinks.
Once everything inside the safe has been shoved into a bag, Harry turns to the two of you. “That was a good start, Winters. Now where’s the rest of it?”
Johnny frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything I have is in there.”
But Harry only tsks as he sets the items down and begins to stride closer, making you curl even further into Johnny’s embrace. “Come on, now,” he mumbles almost tauntingly. “You know what I really want. And you know that you’re gonna fucking tell me. Isn’t that right, mama?”
He looks to you for only a moment as you swallow. 
Johnny begins to seethe. “No. No, you can have everything else, but you won’t touch that.”
“Johnny,” you try, unnerved by the sudden look of warning in Harry’s eye. “Johnny, please…just give it to him. Whatever it is, I don’t care, just…just make him leave.”
“Smart girl,” Harry adds. “Come on, Johnny boy, your darling fiancé is scared. Don’t you wanna save her?”
Your lover simply grows stiff, eyes narrowing at the faux sincerity in the stranger’s voice.
“Johnny,” you mumble again. “Johnny, please, he’s right. I’m scared and I don’t care about what you have or what you don’t have. I just want you. And I want him to go away.”
Still, Johnny wrestles with his decision. With the choice he’s being forced to make, and as the seconds go by, Harry’s patience reaches its limit.
He grabs for you – again. Forcing the weapon under your jaw this time around as Johnny’s muscles tense and his fingers curl into his fist.
“God, look at him,” Harry whispers to you now, lips ghosting up the shell of your ear while forcing your eyes on your fiancé. “Fucking look at your pathetic excuse for a man.”
You attempt to remain indifferent – appear unafraid – but he sees right through you.
“D’you really think he cares about you, Doll?” he murmurs. “Do you really think he’ll choose your life over his own?”
“Let her go,” Johnny barks, yet it only forces the barrel even further into your skin.
Your chin is tilted up, a sharp inhale getting caught in your throat until Harry begins to chuckle.
“How about this,” he says. “I’ll let you choose, mama. I’ll let you decide if he gets to watch me kill you…or if he gets to watch me take you. All for myself.”
“Fucking piece of shit—” Johnny hisses, but Harry simply tsks.
“So, what do you say? What’ll it be? Either way, I’ll have him on his goddamn knees by the end of the night. And then we all win, yeah?”
“Enough,” Johnny yells, and a strangled silence splits the air. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just let her go.”
Harry’s arm begins to lower but not very far. “Once it’s in my hand, she’s all yours.”
And you want to resent these men for treating you like you’re some sort of object to be traded, yet you’d happily be given back to your lover if it meant you could leave this nightmare behind.
No matter the cost.
Johnny rolls his shoulders back and flicks his unrelenting stare back to his desk. “There. The picture.”
You feel your eyebrows raise while Harry slowly begins to loosen his hold on you.
“Get it,” he instructs, and with an aggravated sigh, Johnny obliges.
He retrieves the golden frame from the table before pulling open the back and removing the picture inside.
The picture of you.
It almost breaks your heart, the look on his face. Like he’s absolutely gutted to be defiling this memory of you both, and you ache to comfort him.
Once the photo has been plucked from the glass, you catch the faintest sparkle in the soft light of the moon, and hear yourself gasp.
There, sitting snug inside the small frame, is the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen.
It’s…stunning. The most gorgeous jewel you’ve ever been privileged to lay eyes on, surrounded by what you can only assume to be hundreds of tinier diamonds and rubies arranged in a delicate but intricate pattern. 
Altogether creating the most breathtaking necklace you’ve ever seen.
It has to be worth hundreds of dollars – thousands, in fact – and Harry reaches over to take it from the frame with the biggest Cheshire-like grin you’ve ever seen.
This is what he came for.
“You have it, all right? You have it, now go,” Johnny calls, already attempting to reach for you. “You got what you want.”
With an agreeable hum, Harry studies the necklace a moment longer before finally looking to you. “You’re right. We did, didn’t we?”
You both smile.
Instantly, you raise the gun that Harry had discreetly and secretly slipped into your hand only moments ago and aim it at Johnny’s chest.
Three.
Johnny’s expression shifts, eyes widening as he begins to piece together what’s really going on. Why Harry looks so proud and why you look so relieved.
Two.
His lips part. Ready to speak to you, whisper your name, ask for an explanation. And a part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ll feel any remorse for the deception you’ve put him through these past few months.
But as you stare at him now…you feel nothing but liberation.
One.
The third and final gunshot echoes through the air. Louder and far more permanent. Resolute.
Johnny stumbles back, unable to catch himself before he goes tumbling to the ground. A dark red stain expanding like watercolor across his chest, ruining the clean white shirt underneath.
You’d bought him that shirt.
And as the look of life slowly leaves his eye, you feel your muscles unwind, and your shoulders droop.
It’s over.
Harry’s got his arms around you before you can even release the deep breath you’ve been holding onto for so long. 
“Oh, good fucking girl,” he nearly groans, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in months as you sling your arms around his neck. “Fucking hell, I missed you, mama.”
If Harry had had it his way, Johnny would have been dead months ago. He never liked this plan – not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because the idea of going without you for so long nearly killed him.
But it was the only way to gain Johnny’s trust. And to find his true weakness. He never would have given you the location of the safe or the necklace if you’d simply held him at gunpoint from the get-go.
No, he needed a reason to cave, a reason to put his possessions on the line in order to save something else he truly cared about.
And that’s where you came in.
Sure, it was hard to be without Harry, but you knew it had to be done. Getting these items would set you up for years. You’d never have to work in sleazy bars again. You could simply be with him…forever.
And perhaps pretending to be a stranger to him and appear frightened of his intentions wasn’t quite necessary, but you happen to like the roleplaying aspect. 
The way he threatened your life as though he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect it. The way he taunted you, teased you, scared you…when he knew deep down how much you fucking loved it.
You can still feel his fingers around your neck. The pressure of his hand against your throat, holding you still, keeping you close. You hadn’t felt it in months and a part of you wanted to keep the game going for just a bit longer if it meant you could have him.
You weren’t able to run into his arms and kiss him the way you can now and it’s…perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“Did he hurt you?” he whispers, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw. “Did he fucking touch you—”
“No,” you’re quick to assure him. “No, never. He wanted to, but I never let him.”
“Good.” He takes hold of your hip and gives it a firm squeeze. “Good girl, knew you’d be on your best behavior, yeah?”
You grin. “Of course. Only ever thought about you.”
“Is that right, doll?”
“Mhm.” You tuck your lip between your teeth and nuzzle your nose to his. “How could it ever be him?”
His lashes flutter, and you can see the edges of his frayed sanity coming loose. He’s had to pretend for far too long, and you don’t imagine he can do it much longer.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, nearly clawing at your dress. “Then, maybe I’ll—”
“What…did you do?”
The sound of Milton’s confusion pulls you apart instantly. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, expression horrified. Looking from his boss, to you, to Harry, and back.
He sees the necklace on the desk, sees the gun in your hand, sees the bag of gold and cash lying at Harry’s feet.
He understands, and your heart almost sinks. Milton was one of the good ones.
Quickly, Harry takes the weapon from you and points it in Milton’s direction.
Milton only leans back with a soft inhale while you turn to your lover and whisper, “No. No, not him.”
Harry’s pursed lips and furrowed brows never waver. “What?”
“Not him,” you repeat, as firmly as you can.
And he hesitates for only a moment before dropping the weapon and nodding his chin at you. “Grab the bag and go out the window.”
You nod your understanding before stealing one last glance at the bartender by the door.
He’s heartbroken and terrified…but his features grow softer as he finally mumbles, “…five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes.”
And you can’t help but smile.
You rush to grab what you came for and hurry to the window, with Harry right behind you. You don’t have a lot of time. Once Milton makes the call to the police, you’ll need to be far enough away that they can’t find you.
You know they’ll be looking. Know they won’t stop until they find you both – after all, they’ve been searching for you for years.
But you don’t mind a life that’s on the run, as long as it’s with him. 
And the pleased smile he offers you now only confirms this.
You quickly lift the hem of your dress and begin over the ledge, with Harry right beside you to help. He takes your hand for support, keeping you steady until you can safely drop to the ground outside before he’s following suit.
The moment his feet hit the ground, you both run. The Chicago air is cold – frigid. You don’t have enough clothes to truly cover you and your feet are sore from having to wear these outrageous shoes all night.
But you somehow feel…alive. Invigorated and so very free. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.
You have him.
You both slip along the shadows as you make your way through town, leaving the speakeasy and Johnny Winters behind. After a minute or two, you hear the sirens in the distance, and the stakes are raised. They grow louder and louder the closer they get, and it’s then that Harry recaptures your hand and tugs you into a dark alleyway for cover.
This is where you stay until the cars have zipped down the street and proceeded without you. They don’t even think to look for you here and you’re rather impressed with your lover’s quick thinking.
Harry, however, isn’t as quick to revel in the success. Continuingly peeking around the corner in order to watch for anything unusual. Ignoring your amused laughter and giddy grin of accomplishment.
He’s on edge. Alert. Ready to run again if need be, and while you rather admire his practiced precision, you hope to put it to better use. 
You drop the bag near the wall and make your way for him, palms quickly finding his cheeks in order to pull his attention to you.
He grunts. “What?”
But you don’t answer with words. You answer with a kiss. A kiss that makes your stomach flip and your mind grow fuzzy.
And this seems to be explanation enough as he groans with approval and wraps his arms around your middle to keep you against his chest. Nipping and licking at you as though his life depends on it.
Perhaps it does.
He shoves you back against the brick after only a few seconds, finding the leverage he needs in order to deepen the kiss and truly claim you. In a way he’d been desperate to the moment he saw you sitting in that office in such a beautiful dress.
“Trying to distract me, hm?” he murmurs, and you can’t help but smile. “Yeah? Or did you just need me that badly?”
He spins you around, pressing your cheek to the cold blocks of clay before dancing his fingers down your spine. Indulging in you.
It makes your insides twist.
You feel the hem of your dress gather in his fist as he finally gets a proper look at what he’s been missing for months. And the sound he makes goes straight to your cunt.
“You filthy fucking thing,” he whispers, rather delightedly while moving in to trail his mouth along your neck. “Look at you. Look at how perfect you are.”
His fingers find your pussy, stroking over your covered slit once or twice before plucking the covering from your hips and dragging it down your thighs. 
“Just dripping for me, yeah? All fucking night.” He drags his palm up the inside of your leg. “Power makes you weak, doesn’t it, mama?”
You nod desperately, unable to answer with words.
But he understands, smirking to himself rather deviously before his hands are tangling in your hair in order to yank your head back. Just to hear you choke on a whine. “I’ve waited months for this. Yeah? M’gonna take my time with you…gonna make it worth it.”
And you don’t doubt that you will.
You nod again as the sound of his leather belt coming undone echoes between your ears. You’re trembling with anticipation, body aching for the feel of his cock. It’s been far too long, and you’ve nearly withered away without him.
You imagine he feels about the same, already fisting himself in one hand and readjusting your dress in the other. You hear him mumble something under his breath – you’re not quite sure what. But you suppose it doesn’t matter. He can say whatever he likes as long as he gives you what you need. 
Normally, he’d take his time. He loves to make a show out of ruining you, but there’s no chance for that tonight. No patience. So, he kicks your feet apart, grabs your hip, and eases himself in all before you can take a breath.
And it’s perfect. Exactly the way you remember. The stretch, the scratch, the desperation. Nobody feels the way he does, and you both know it.
He’s still for a moment, merely pushing himself in and watching your pussy swallow him whole. As if so overcome by the sensation that he can’t do much else. As if losing control over his own body.
So, you push against his chest to remind him you’re here while your fingers reach back for his hair in order to tug it softly.
You feel him smile against your cheek. “All fucking night,” he whispers the moment he’s buried to the hilt. “Knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”
You grin as well. You’re rather happy he noticed.
“Spitting in my fucking face,” he continues. “Challenging me. Acting like a fucking brat. S’all cause you were so fucking needy for me, wasn’t it, mama?”
“Maybe,” you can’t help but retort. “Maybe I knew you’d like it.”
He laughs now. A low, deep, sadistic sound from the back of his throat. Using his hold on your scalp to force your head into his shoulder. “Is that right, hm?”
You only nod.”
“Yeah? Then say it,” he hisses. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed my cock. That nobody fucks you like I do—”
He accompanies this request with his first, sharp thrust. Pulling back only to drive himself in so hard, the air is nearly knocked from your lungs.
“Because they can’t, can they?” he coos, yet it’s angry. Fingers moving from your hair to your neck. Squeezing until you gasp. “Nobody knows how to treat this little pussy like I do. Do they?”
You fall mute. Going limp in his hold as the pleasure begins to build.
“You love it when I fuck you like this.” His nose presses to your cheek as he breathes, your delicate throat a plaything in his touch. “Love it when I kill for you. Love it when I make you mine—”
You gasp at the ecstasy, hardly able to hear him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You love me,” he murmurs, and you just about disappear into his embrace.
“I do,” you gasp, almost too loudly. “I do, Harry, please—"
“Quiet,” he hisses, glancing now toward the street in order to make sure the police haven’t found their way to you. “You know better than that. You’ll take me and you’ll do it quietly. Understood?”
Your only response is to whimper pitifully while your nails scratch down the brick walls of the alley.
In turn, he grasps onto your jaw, forcing your head to the side until your eyes can meet. “I said, is that fucking understood?”
“I thought you said to be quiet,” you can’t help but retort, and he hums.
“Oh, is that how you wanna play it?” He releases your throat only to take hold of your hips once more and spin you around between thrusts. Quickly returning to his place between your thighs before lifting one of your legs and hiking it around his waist.
“What…” you begin, chest heaving as the tip of his cock drags down your clit. “What are you—” 
“Had to see you,” is his gritted response. “Had to see this pretty, bratty face as I ruined you.”
You imagine you’d smile if you weren’t so close to coming apart, but he understands. Pressing his forehead to yours before reaching up toward the top of your dress and ripping the fabric down to reveal your chest. 
You can tell he’s been wanting to do this all night. Know he’s been ogling your tits from behind the expensive fabric since the moment he walked in, and truth be told, that’s the real reason you wore it. 
Not because Johnny loves you in red.
But because Harry deserved to look at something pretty.
The cold air meets your skin with an unforgiving fervor, and you squirm against the brick as Harry’s eyes fall to the tattered fabric lying so pathetically on your chest.
Instantly, his head dips, mouth leaving open and sloppy kisses to the beautiful pair before him. Tongue stroking the hardened nipples rather respectfully, all things considered.
In turn, you run a hand through his dark curls as he does this to you. As you watch him take whatever he wants. Feeling the way his hair moves like butter between your fingers. The way he hums against you. The way his lashes flutter.
You’ve missed this.
Then, your grip tightens, and you yank his head up until his lips can meet yours. And you take. Take the taste of him, the taste of you, and the taste of victory.
His palm comes up to rest against the wall beside your head. Steadying himself as he works to find that perfect rhythm again. Over and over and over.
And all you can do is move your anxious kisses to his throat as he fucks into you. Whispering, “Nobody, baby. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody.”
Your fingers trail down his strong back, feeling each muscle that dips and flexes as he moves. The way he grunts when you scratch your nails down his spine. The way he consumes you and succumbs to you all at once.
Johnny was beautiful, but Harry is a beast. You’ve never seen a man like this before – never felt a man like this before. Every curve of his body is ethereal. Every detail, every touch.
Your touch continues to move lower and lower down his strong frame until you find something at the base of his spine.
And it makes you grin.
You slip it from his belt with ease, feeling the way it sits firmly in your hand as though it were made for it.
Harry doesn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care with the way he’s so deep into you. Emotionally, physically.
But he’s quickly pulled from his pleasured trance the moment he feels the familiar, cool touch of his gun sweeping across his jaw.
He stills. Straightening up ever-so-slightly, eyes finding yours.
But you’re too busy gazing at the barrel that dances across that beautiful face. 
After all, he got to have his fun this evening.
Now it’s your turn.
You bring it to a stop just under his chin, tilting his head up exactly the way he’d done to you earlier as he releases a deep breath.
“Mama…” he warns, but you only hum.
This isn’t the first time this deadly weapon has made this an unofficial threesome, but it is certainly the first time you’ve been the one to wield it.
You hate guns. You do. But you love Harry’s. The way he holds it. The way he handles it. The way he uses great care and great power.
Because there’s something about seeing him with it. Seeing the way he controls it, controls the room. The way he holds someone’s life in the palm of his hand…
Perhaps you should be concerned by how enamored you are by it. By him.
But not tonight. Tonight, you simply enjoy.
And from the look in his eye, he seems to be enjoying it, too.
After all, you know he loved watching you use it on Johnny. Know he almost had you right then and there, on Johnny’s desk, before the mission was even through.
He’s endlessly pleased with you, and you can’t help but use this to your advantage.
So, with the weapon still taut to his clenched jaw, you lean forward and ghost your lips over his. “What’s the matter, Daddy? Does power make you weak?”
The twitch of his cock is answer enough.
You go in for the kill. With your fingers dancing over the trigger button, you lean back and dip down before dragging your tongue up the length of the barrel.
His eyes nearly roll back, and the sound that leaves his chest is euphoric. You think you might just kill him.
Because you’re slow. Meticulous. Licking every inch of the weapon until you finally reach the tip still tucked just beneath his chin.
Then…you kiss him.
And he’s so overwhelmed that he growls into your mouth, no longer threatened by the gun at his throat. Instead grabbing onto the back of your neck in order to squeeze it tight and keep you close. Devour you the way he’s been so frantic to.
You don’t even realize that you’ve begun to lower the gun until you feel it snatched from your grasp.
And pressed tightly to your clit.
The cold surface of the weapon against the warmest part of your body has you arching your back with a whimper. He has the upper hand once more, and he’s certainly not about to waste it. Mouth curling up into a satisfied, smug grin at the way your expression has gone hazy.
You’ve never looked at another man the way you look at him and he knows it.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks softly, adding just enough pressure to make you whine. “All fucking night? The moment you saw me? Saw my gun? Wanted me to fuck you with it?”
Your nails meet your chest, scratching down the frigid skin in a desperate attempt to find something to ground you.
His only response is to drag the tip of the weapon down just a bit further. Until he can watch it glisten in you.
“Fucking looking at you,” he muses beneath a strained exhale, enamored by the way you subconsciously begin to grind on it. “So desperate to feel it. To be fucked by it. And what if I do, hm? What if I fuck you with my gun right here in this alleyway?”
You only whisper his name and an airy, “Please…”
“I thought about it,” he continues quietly, nose brushing yours as he slips the soaked barrel back up your cunt. “Thought about ripping off this pathetic little dress and fucking you right in front of your precious fiancé.”
You wish he had.
“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, mama?” His fingers drum against the handle. “Yeah? I know you would. Would have loved to watch him watch me.”
And he’s not wrong. He hardly ever is when it comes to your darkest fantasies, and it’s just one of the many reasons why you love him.
“But I had to wait,” he tells you now, finally pulling the gun away from your dripping clit until you nearly crumple to the cold concrete below. “Because after all this time…I’m the only thing that gets to fill you tonight, yeah?”
You simply nod again as he brings the gun back to your mouth with a proud grin.
And you know exactly what he wants, swiping your tongue all along the barrel and tasting every drop, every indication of your need for him. Swallowing it all as he watches proudly.
The moment you’re finished, he takes the gun and returns it to his pocket, tucking it away safely. Because he’s right again, and you need to feel him far more than you’ve ever needed anything else.
So, you grasp onto his face and bring his lips to yours, allowing him to pick up right where he left off.
Because as much as you love the power…you love being weak for him more.
At least in moments like this.
He fills you and fucks you until you’re dizzy. Until you can taste the pleasure and the unraveling. 
You make a show of it. A way to apologize for all the time lost. Trailing the tips of your fingers along your own chest and down your sternum until you notice you have his attention.
He watches you take your tit into your palm before you’re tweaking the hardened nipple with a soft whine. Allowing your head to drop back into the wall while you do it again and again.
And he’s an angry sort of infatuated. Groaning almost pitifully before kissing you again and easily swatting your hand away in order to do it himself.
But that’s still not enough. So, you play your ace, and move your touch down to your clit in order to pinch it exactly the way he likes.
And it’s beautiful. The most exhilarating feeling, and this is what sends him over. The feel of your pussy clamping down on his cock, the sight of your fingers against your clit, the sound of your pathetic whimpers and pants as you cry out his name.
He fills you before he can stop himself, kissing you quickly as he releases into your aching, abused cunt. 
Claiming you in more ways than one until you have no choice but to follow.
It rips you apart in the same way he ripped the dress. Until you see stars, and your back arches, and your toes curl. And everything makes sense.
He works to make it last for as long as he can, and once it’s all over, there’s a soft, tender moment of silence as you work to catch your breath.
You forget about everything else. The sirens, the lies, the deceit. Even Johnny. You forget about it all.
Because you got more than a diamond necklace tonight.
You got Harry back.
After a second or two more, you lazily reach up to sweep some of his rogue curls from his forehead. Wanting to really see his eyes as he holds you tonight.
“Harry?” you whisper into the cold, dark alley.
He hums. “Yes, mama?”
“I love you.”
And you’ve never seen him so happy. “I love you more,” he breathes, kiss you again as if to cement this vow.
Eventually, the moment comes to pass, and you have to drop your leg back down to the floor and part from him. You find that your muscles are sore, and just a touch achey, but you don’t even mind. Because it’s somehow just as deliciously pleasurable.
Harry works to readjust your dress and keep you covered; despite the way he’s ruin the expensive fabric. He offers you his jacket – insists on it. Wrapping it around your shoulders before you can even argue.
You smile as you snuggle into the warm material, feeling calmed by the familiar smell of him.
“There,” he says as he looks at you before his head tilts. “Just missing one thing.”
Curious, you watch as he slips his hand back into his pant pocket in order to fish something out.
The necklace.
He hadn’t told you about it before the mission. Only about the safe, and now you think you’re beginning to realize why.
He places it around your neck and readjusts the clasp until it can sit comfortably over your heart. 
And you both look down as it sparkles from your chest, smiling together as though you truly can’t believe it’s real.
“You like it?” he whispers.
You grin so wide, your cheeks hurt. “I love it.”
He kisses you again, and it’s perfect.
Everything. All of it.
Him.
Suddenly, a loud toll echoes through the small town. The sharp chime coming from the clocktower in the town square.
Once, twice, three times. 
Midnight.
“It’s Christmas,” you realize aloud as you and Harry both glance toward the clock. 
His expression softens, and it makes your heart soar. “I guess it is.”
And then…you feel it. The first drop of something cold on your cheek. And then another. And another. And another. Gathering in your hair, getting stuck on his lashes.
Snow.
With a gasp, you look up into the dark sky as it dances down onto the quiet Chicago streets.
A rather perfect ending to a perfectly imperfect day.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
With a soft giggle, you curl yourself under his arm and press your lips to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”
He laughs, and you’ve never been so happy.
“Merry Christmas, Mama.”
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I'M SORRY THIS ONE GOT A BIT DARKER, IT WAS FUN BUT MOSTLY JUST FOR THE ERA ASPECT!! Thank you for reading if you did and letting me write something a little weirder 😭💞
~ Main Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs
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angrythingstarlight · 3 months
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I'm sure Bucky has the BEST champagne shipped in for New Years Eve for him & Malyshka to celebrate with buttttt what does little Bee 🐝 get to drink? Is it apple juice? Or a specially made drink just for her?
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She drinks her sparkling apple juice out of this. This was a gift from Winnie this year. Our Bee adores it and it makes her feel like she's a big girl because now her cup matchs her parents. She wandered around the party clinking her cup against everyone's champagne flute.
If you're trying to look for her just listen for the little "cheers" and you'll find Bee tapping her cup against her Papa's glass of whiskey. For the fourth time tonight, neither one of them is even close to being tired of it.
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afeelgoodblog · 1 year
Text
The Best News of Last Week - March 13, 2023
🐝 - Did you hear about the honeybee vaccine? It's creating quite the buzz! But seriously, it's a major breakthrough in the fight against American foulbrood and could save billions of bees.
1. Transgender health care is now protected in Minnesota
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Minnesota Governor Tim Walz signed an executive order protecting and supporting access to gender-affirming health care for LGBTQ people in the state, amidst Republican-backed efforts across the country to limit transgender health care. The order upholds the essential values of One Minnesota where all people, including members of the LGBTQIA+ community, are safe, celebrated, and able to live lives full of dignity and joy.
Numerous medical organizations have said that access to gender-affirming care is essential to the health and wellness of gender diverse people, while states like Tennessee, Arizona, Utah, Arkansas, Alabama, Mississippi, South Dakota, and Florida have passed policies or laws restricting transgender health care.
2. First vaccine for honeybees could save billions
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The US government has approved the world's first honeybee vaccine to fight against American foulbrood, a bacterial disease that destroys bee colonies vital for crop pollination.
Developed by biotech company Dalan Animal Health, the vaccine integrates some of the foulbrood bacteria into royal jelly, which is then fed to the queen by the worker bees, resulting in the growing bee larvae developing immunity to foulbrood. The vaccine aims to limit the damage caused by the infectious disease, for which there is currently no cure, and promote the development of vaccines for other diseases affecting bees.
3. Teens rescued after days stranded in California snowstorm: "We were already convinced we were going to die"
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The recent snowstorms in California have resulted in dangerous conditions for hikers and residents in mountain communities. Two teenage hikers were rescued by the San Bernardino County sheriff's department after getting lost in the mountains for 10 days.
The boys were well-prepared for the hike but were not prepared for the massive amounts of snow that followed. They were lucky to survive, suffering from hypothermia and having to huddle together for three nights to stay warm.
Yosemite National Park has had to be closed indefinitely due to the excessive snowfall.
4. La Niña, which worsens Atlantic hurricanes and Western droughts, is gone
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The La Nina weather phenomenon, which increases Atlantic hurricane activity and worsens western drought, has ended after three years, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. That's usually good news for the United States and other parts of the world, including drought-stricken northeast Africa, scientists said.
The globe is now in what's considered a "neutral" condition.
5. Where there's gender equality, people tend to live longer
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Both women and men are likely to live longer when a country makes strides towards gender equality, according to a new global study that authors believe to be the first of its kind.
The study was published in the journal PLOS Global Public Health this week. It adds to a growing body of research showing that advances in women's rights benefit everyone. "Globally, greater gender equality is associated with longer [life expectancy] for both women and men and a widening of the gender gap in [life expectancy]," they conclude.
6. New data shows 1 in 7 cars sold globally is an EV, and combustion engine car sales have decreased by 25% since 2017
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Electric vehicles are the key technology to decarbonise road transport, a sector that accounts for 16% of global emissions. Compared with 2020, sales nearly doubled to 6.6 million (a sales share of nearly 9%), bringing the total number of electric cars on the road to 16.5 million.
Sales were highest in China, where they tripled relative to 2020 to 3.3 million after several years of relative stagnation, and in Europe, where they increased by two-thirds year-on-year to 2.3 million. Together, China and Europe accounted for more than 85% of global electric car sales in 2021
7. Lastly, watch this touching moment as rescued puppy gains trust in her new owners
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By the way, this is my newly started YouTube channel. Subscribe for more wholesome videos :D
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That's it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:
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Let's carry the positivity into next week and keep spreading the good news!
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underthetree845 · 2 months
Text
His Lady
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Chuuya/fem pm! Reader Cws: pm fem! reader, mutual pining, getting together, alcohol tw, jealous chuuya, fluff, pent up emotions, light angst (little argument), reader is high up in the port mafia, reader flirts to get information (briefly), new years party, let me know if I missed anything! About 3.5k words Summary: What was being built up finally spills over at the new years eve party all the higher ups in the port mafia have to attend. A/n: So happy late new years I guess! I don't know I wanted to try a little something. Chuuya is so hard to figure out how to write- I did my best though! Black hearts divider credit // Red hearts divider credit.
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You strode up to the grand staircase clad in your pretty crimson dress, the one gifted to you exactly one week prior. He told you that the shade would match his suit lining and tie. You didn’t question why he thought the two of you should match, but it proved impossible to stop thinking about leading up to the event. The boss’s sudden calling for an end of the year bash at the most luxurious banquet hall in town was suspicious to say the least, but with how often every executive and subordinate in the port mafia felt overworked, no one could find it in themselves to care. 
As a high-ranking member yourself, Mori had you preview the profiles of some of the guests that would be attending. You were sure your superiors were swamped with even more. The presence of an executive alone provided a statement. Who they chose to mingle with, who they pointedly ignored. 
Just as you were about to head inside, a familiar voice sounded from behind you. The word fell from his lips before he could stop it. “Damn,” he murmured. You spun around on instinct, and were met with the stormy blue pair of eyes you had grown so fond of; somehow all the more dazzling under the light of the moon.
“Chuuya,” you breathed, taking the time to soak in his appearance. Just as promised, his tie, suit lining, and even the handkerchief peeking out of his pocket were a deep scarlet. The way his gray vest hugged his body complemented his frame in a way that made your stomach do backflips. For once, Chuuya decided to step out into the world without the familiar pork pie that usually sat atop his head. It was a true blessing whenever you got to admire the way his hair fell to frame his face so artfully; what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through it. 
Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his eyes raked over your form, and you had to clear your throat once for the man to blink back to reality. You could have sworn that the faintest tint of red adorned his cheeks. “...Could you be any more gorgeous?” Chuuya let out a low chuckle and suddenly you felt your face go hot. “I- uh-” you stammered for a moment before clearing your throat a second time, “Come on, let’s head inside, people are expecting us.” you turned and approached the entryway. Chuuya followed closely behind you, sharing a nod with the servant who held the door open. The hall was littered with specs of gold; spotlights, balloons, and crystalline chandeliers distorting light and scattering it around the room. Round, black-clothed tables formed the perimeter, each with a warm oil lamp sitting comfortably at its center. Expensive-looking tapestries hung between tall marble pillars against every wall, only further complementing the gold-traced designs etched into the molding. Servers wearing black bow ties and suits fluttered from table to table like honey bees in a garden, eager to serve their purpose with a near endless list of tasks. Your heels tapped lightly against the polished floor as you made your way inside, trying not to gape at the extravagant orchestra that played in the far corner. 
A long balcony wrapped around the perimeter of the room above your head with doors along the outer wall. It hung over a portion of the tables, shrouding them in shadow and contrasting greatly with the way the center of the hall was illuminated to create a slightly elevated dance floor. Clear glass made up almost the entirety of the walls above the balcony, creating a translucent dome that surely made for a very pretty picture on such a night. You and Chuuya found your way to a vacant table and it wasn’t long before you were approached by a waiter who requested that you provide your drink and food orders for the evening. “This place is breathtaking,” you commented, eyes still scanning over the venue. “I wanna know how much of our goddamn budget the boss spent on this,” Chuuya clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. He leaned back in his seat and you gave him a sympathetic smile. He sighed as he felt his resolve crumble away. It didn’t take long for your drinks to arrive. “S’ there anything you were looking forward to tonight?” Chuuya asked lightly, swirling around the wine in his newly-acquired glass before taking a sip. You paused for a moment. “...You mean, other than the huge New Years Eve bash being thrown by the mafia in, like, literally the most high class place I’ve ever stepped foot in?” “I mean, what were you hoping to get out of the evening?” Chuuya mused, “How’re you hoping to end this year?” Well. 
“Oh… I’m not really sure. Honestly it’s pretty nice already to get to enjoy this place,” you smiled bashfully, bringing the rim of the wine glass to come into contact with your lips. Slowly, your head tilted back, allowing the chilled liquid to slide down your throat. The Dolcetto was rich and sweet, refreshing and left an herbal tang on your tongue. Appreciating the complexities of wine had gotten easier since meeting Chuuya. “I know of a few more places like this, if you’re interested,” Chuuya offered nonchalantly, “I could always use some company.” Your head snapped in his direction. “...Seriously? You would?” he couldn’t help but admire the small glimmer in your eyes. “Yeah, if it’d make you smile like that, I’d do it every week,” he replied with a grin. You leaned back in your seat with a new thrum of excitement in your chest. “What about you, Chu?” you inquired curiously, “Were you hoping for anything special tonight?” Now it was Chuuya’s turn to pause. The longer he looked at you, the harder it was to deny the growing ache in his chest. Being around you was one the thing he had always been waiting for yet he never knew he needed. He wanted to be able to come home to you after a long day. To show you how much you meant to him. To open his eyes and have you be the first thing coming into his focus on a Saturday morning, knowing that neither of you have to get out of bed. He would take you anywhere your heart desired, hand you the world on a silver platter if he could. “To be honest Y/n,” he started, “the best part of tonight is-” “Ah, to meet you at last, Mr. Nakahara!” a lively voice sounded from your left. It belonged to a stout man, maybe a few centimeters taller than Chuuya, who gripped onto the lapel of his suit with both thumbs and stood with one leg out. The executive looked over to study him for a moment. “Oh,” you saw Chuuya’s eyes flicker with recognition, “Mr. Penrod, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He put on one of his business smiles and stood from the table as you watched with intrigue. Atop Penrod’s head sat a suspiciously lopsided fluff of black hair, mostly brushed back in an effort to emulate elegance. Penrod’s eyes flickered from yours back to Chuuya’s and his expression changed. “Ah, forgive me madam,” he turned to you with a slight bow, “Would you allow me the pleasure of knowing your name?” “Ah, it’s L/n Y/n, and the pleasure is all mine,” you stood with a polite curve of your lips and shared a handshake with the man, which he prolonged for a moment longer than what would have been entirely comfortable. “Mr. Mori just sent me your way, Mr. Nakahara sir,” Penrod brought his hands together with an amiable grin, “I believe there are certain matters of due time for us to discuss.” It was clear who he intended to share the discussion with and who he did not. Not that it really bothered you; he wasn’t on the profile list Mori gave you anyway. “Would you mind if I stole you away from your lady for a brief time?” “‘Course not,” Chuuya replied, turning to you for a moment, “You don’t mind, do you, Y/n?” “I- no, not at all,” your voice wavered slightly. Chuuya nodded. Your eyes trailed the pair until they disappeared into the crowd, and you slumped back in your seat. The flutter in your chest was impossible to suppress. There was a single thought running through your mind: Why didn’t Chuuya correct him? 
-
One hour left. Lipstick stained the rim of your wine glass, and your second and your third. A plate of appetizers sat mockingly on the table, long since left to go cold. Taking one more glance at the empty seat to your right, you decided that waiting any longer would prove to be a waste of your time. You caught several stares as you made your way through the sea of people, eyes filtering the crowd for any face you could recognize. At last, you spotted a man standing at the bar with sharp blue eyes and blonde hair straight as a pin. It has been slicked back, and he appeared to have a habit of running his right hand through it every so often. You let out a sigh, put on your best sugary grin, and strode over to tap the shoulder of the man’s navy suit. He turned his head, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes studied the contours of your body and face before a suave smile settled on his lips. The feeling that formed in the pit of your stomach was so different from the one you got when Chuuya looked at you that way. The man’s name, as you pretended not to know as he introduced himself, was Yamamoto Taishi. He was twenty six years old, a recent graduate of the finest college of finance and business relations in the country, the youngest son of the chairman of banking relations in Japan, and, as you quickly discovered, stupidly easy to win over. All it took was a few feathery touches up his arm, batting your eyelashes, taking one step closer, and you had him on the barstool next to you, babbling away in intricate detail about all the deals he was to handle alongside his father with flushed cheeks and breath that reeked of whisky. Little did you know, a certain redhead across the room was having trouble not shattering his own whiskey glass to pieces at the sight. The way Yamamoto looked at you made his stomach turn unpleasantly. Calm down dammit, Chuuya told himself, It means nothing. You know that. “Isn’t that something, Mr. Nakahara?” a gentleman’s voice sounded from his left, and Chuuya snapped back to the conversation he no longer cared to be engaged in. “Without a doubt,” he voiced smoothly, “Actually, I wouldn’t mind hearing more. Do you think you could elaborate on the last part of what you said?” “Of course, back to-” Miyazaki started again. Or Minamoto, or Mitsuba, or whoever the hell the guy introduced himself as. 
Chuuya found himself unable to care as his gaze trailed back over to your form. He grit his teeth at the way the blonde man next to you seemed to be leaning closer and closer with every passing second. The moment the man decided to rest his hand on your thigh, what remained of Chuuya’s patience dissipated in a matter of seconds. Murmuring something about excusing himself to the restroom, Chuuya abandoned his glass on a nearby table and tried to calm the stinging feeling under his skin as he swiftly approached the scene. Thirty minutes left.  “Ah, there you are, Darlin’, I was looking for you,” you recognized his voice instantly; before you could even process what he said, you felt his gloved hand snake around your waist to rest low on your hip. Chuuya’s cologne invaded your senses when his form leaned into yours, your heart giving an involuntary stutter. He eyed down the man still sitting in front of you; you’d be embarrassed to admit that you forgot the blonde existed for a moment. Retracting his grip from your thigh, Yamamoto leaned one elbow on the bar and upturned his chin to give Chuuya a sneer. “And who are you supposed to be? You’re kind of intruding.” “Yeah, Chuuya, what exactly are you doing?” you questioned. He ignored the implication in your tone. “You shouldn’t be fooling around with guys like this,” Chuuya turned his head to look at you and you struggled to place the emotion in his eyes, “you’re out of their league.” Yamamoto’s frown deepened. “And just who are you to claim that? The way I see it everyone gets a fair shot,” he retorted. “I’d just rather have my lady not waste her time on…” Chuuya gave the man a once over, “a man so clearly lacking the ability to treat her the way she deserves.” “You didn’t answer my ques-” Yamamoto tried to object again but Chuuya cut him off. “Anyway, we’d better get going, don’t you think so, Gorgeous?” Chuuya grinned at you, and you found your protests weak as he slid his hand down to grasp yours and lead you somewhere the air was quieter.
The hidden staircase had been cut from a gray granite; it spiraled left as you ascended. You barely got to take in the view of the ball from above before Chuuya swung a door open that led you outside. Twenty minutes left. The cool air on your skin did little to quell the heat bubbling underneath. You swore to yourself that you would refuse to leave the balcony until the executive gave you some clear answers.
Chuuya released your hand from his grasp but kept walking until he reached the polished railing overlooking the city and port of Yokohama. He leaned against it with a sigh, looking out onto the horizon as a thick silence filled the air.
“So, will you explain, or do I have to ask?” you started slowly, stepping up to meet him. He turned to look at you, his eyes deep and filled with thought. “What’s there to explain?” he sighed, turning to face you and leaning his hip against the railing, “Last time I checked, you’re not an idiot.” “That’s-” you let out a breath, “that’s besides the point. It’s still something that should be said.” “What is?” Chuuya’s grip on the railing tightened. “Why you acted like that with Taishi back there,” you attempted to prod, “I was just trying to squeeze information out of him. You know that, you were doing the exact same thing.” “Oh, so you’re on a first name basis with the gentleman now?” Chuuya scoffed slightly and you rolled your eyes. “First of all he insisted that I call him that, and second of all, buttering him up was the easiest way to get him to start telling me what I needed to know. Which I would have found out a lot more of, by the way, if someone hadn’t interrupted.” “I’d hardly call what you and I were doing ‘the same thing,’” Chuuya murmured, and you furrowed your brow. “And why not? The boss gave you a list too, right?” you placed a hand on your hip, “Profiles, attendees, individuals in possession of valuable assets. Yamamoto is quite the blabbermouth when he’s eager to show off.” “Freakin’ hell, I wasn’t the one...” Chuuya gestured to nothing, “gettin’ handsy with some goddamn court brat! From what I could tell there was a lot more than just an informational exchange going on there.”  “Why does that bother you, Chuuya?” you took a step closer, “You still haven’t answered my question.” Lowering his eyebrows, Chuuya brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and let out a sigh before crossing his arms. “You want me to spell it out for you or somethin’?” he looked at you again, defensiveness subtle in his tone. “Yes, Chuuya! That’s what I’ve been asking,” you replied, your eyes steady. Ten minutes left. “You want me to explain why I hate seeing you flirt around with other guys like that?” he scoffed slightly, annoyance bleeding into his voice. You noted the way he said 'other.' “I wasn’t flirting, that wasn’t real, you know that!” you insisted, but the man just continued. “You want me to explain why I can’t bear to see you making eyes n’ shit like that? Why I wish I could just keep you close?” Chuuya’s voice raised in volume. “For someone so direct you sure are being elusive about this, Chuuya,” you implored the man. “You want me to explain why I wanted to make sure we would match tonight? Why I bought you that dress that you look so… goddamn perfect in…” Chuuya clenched his jaw. “It’s because I want you to myself. It kills me that I can't tell if you care, and it kills me that I can’t seem to control myself around you.” “Chu, you-” you were about to cut him off but his fuse reached a boiling point. “I can’t control the fact that I love you, okay, Y/n?” he shouted slightly, “I…” he trailed off, and a deafening silence hung in the air. The flush that creeped into Chuuya’s cheeks rivaled the red of his hair. Five minutes left. Muttering a few curses under his breath, Chuuya turned to face the city lights down below, sliding his hands into his pockets. 
Chuuya had been drawn to you like a moth to flame. It wasn't right, your relationship was supposed to be professional, with you technically being one of his subordinates and all. Murder and death were common in the field you both worked in. His affection for you scared him. After all, what good things are meant to last? He wanted to protect you, he'd never forgive himself if he let such a beautiful soul be ripped from the world. Chuuya found that you were strong, kind, and no matter how many times you insisted otherwise, so much braver than he could ever be. He adored the way you always fuss over his injuries after a mission, even if it was the tiniest bruise. You deserved all the good things the world had to offer, and a small selfish part of himself hoped you could find it in him.
The man glanced your way and let out a sigh to find that you hadn’t moved from your position. “Listen… Y/n,” his voice was steady and quiet, “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to…” “So…” you started, and Chuuya held his breath, “you were jealous?” Chuuya let out a few sputters and turned to face you again. Only then did he notice the tinted color of your cheeks. The way you clutched a fist to your chest and looked at him like no one and nothing else existed in the whole world. The smallest hint of hope flickered in your expression, and his heart did a backflip. “I… guess you could call it that,” he admitted with uncharacteristic hesitancy. It took a moment for you to voice your response. “...I would be jealous too,” you muttered, and although Chuuya caught what you said he asked you to repeat yourself. “What was that?” he took a step forward, blinking a few times. You took a deep breath. “If I saw someone flirting with you- or if I saw you ‘making eyes’ at someone else… I would get jealous too…” you felt heat crawl up your neck at your declaration. Chuuya looked at you like your head was on backwards. “And why is that?” his voice carried softly, neither of you taking notice of the muffled sound of voices counting down from inside. “Because I love you too Chu…” you spoke quietly but he still caught it. You could hear your heart pumping in your ears. Just as Chuuya was about to spill out a reply, a startling boom sounded from your left. You turned your head and sucked in a breath at the display. Eruptions of colored fire danced around each other in the night sky. They echoed through the air, creating ethereal reflections in the water off in the distance.
“Happy New Years, Gorgeous,” Chuuya’s tender gaze never left your face. You turned back to look at him, and in that moment, with the way the moon and fireworks illuminated your form, he swore the sight before him was the most breathtaking view of his entire life. A light breeze blew by, the echoing explosions from the fireworks somehow fading into the distance. He glanced down at your lips and, even if ever so slightly began to lean in. A fuzzy feeling started in your chest as you closed the gap. His lips were warm, you’d never grow tired of the way he held you, kissed you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. You murmured softly after you pulled away, gentleness laced in your expression. “Happy New Years, Chu.” 
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A/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you can find many things that make you smile this year ^^
Tagging: @a-random-weeb @ringsofsaturnnnn
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puddle-nerd · 5 months
Text
We Feast
Summary: As Ronal’s most dedicated student in the ways of healing, a soft spot had formed specifically for you, deeper than you might have guessed until your first heat hits you unexpectedly.
(Tonowari/Reader/Ronal)
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Prompt 31 (A/B/O) for my final submission for LunasKinktober2023
Story Tags: No use of y/n, Female Reader, everyone is legal, A/B/O, M/F/F, Teacher/Student Relationship, Crushing on the Teacher, Overbearing Parents, Angst, Metkayina | Reef People Clan (Avatar), Na’vi Culture (Avatar – Cameron), Na’vi Language (Avatar – Cameron), First Heat, Maybe Dub-Con due to Heat Delerium, Threesome if you squint, Open Marriage-ish/Polyamory, Eating out, Face Sitting, Mention of inexperienced main female character, Voyeurism, Creampie Na’vi Translation: ‘Eve — girl (colloquial) Ma’ — my, mine, a way of showing possession of something Mawey — calm Muntxatan — husband Numeyu — student Oel ngati tse’a – “I see you” (physically) Olo’eyktan — Clan Leader Olo’zeykoyu — Clan Healer Paska’sngap — (NON-CANON) exact translation would be ‘honey sting’, a type of large bee that makes very sweet honeycomb Paskalin — honey (term of endearment) Sa’nu — mum/mom/mommy Sa’nok — mother (respectful) Tewng – loincloth Tìyawn — love Tsaheylu — a connection between two Pandoran beings (i.e. a Na’vi and a direhorse/ikran/ilu or between two Na’vi) with the tendrils of their neural queues enabling a mental communication between them and the sharing of information, including memories, emotions, and sensory input Tsahìk – a spiritual leader of a Na’vi clan, and the most important member next to the clan leader. The job of the Tsahìk is to interpret the will of Eywa, guide the clan spiritually, and perform important ceremonies Zeykoyu — healer Male OC: Ìtxän Te Atxzìtx Kxawun’iyan (a male Na’vi) and Ìstaw (your preferred male ilu) Author’s Note: Set around a year and a half before the events of Avatar: The Way of Water, before Ronal got pregnant and before the Recombinants arrived. This turned out a quite bit longer than I originally anticipated because I just couldn’t stop writing so if you’d prefer to skip straight to the smut, skip down to the break in text. And hey, so just in case you didn’t read the tags or the warning labels, this is a polyamorous relationship so this one will have Ronal and Reader going to town on each other in this chapter. If you don’t like descriptive scenes depicting woman on woman sexual action, then please don’t read this.
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“Good, yes, Ma’numeyu,” Ronal praised you with a soft brush of her fingers along your bare shoulder as you ground the herbs into a fine powder for future use as an anti-inflammatory paste when introduced to a few drops of fresh water. It needed to be as fine as silk-sand to the touch or else it would not do its job as needed and would be, in turn, useless. And you refused to have anything of yours be considered useless or not even good enough. Being the youngest of three daughters of your family, your older sisters set the precedence by being a fantastic warrior and a fantastic fisherman/cook so you had to be just as good as them, if not better or else your parents would pay you less attention or compare you to your sisters. So, you had to be the best zeykoyu as your talents lay with healing. And who better to learn from than the current Tsahìk?
You bowed your head with a slight smile. “Thank you, Ma’tsahìk,” you acknowledged the compliment with a light blush and grabbed the last of the herb to add to her mortar.
“Your dedication could lead you down the path to Olo’zeykoyu… one day.” You froze at those words hanging so tantalizingly in the air between the two of you and slowly, you glanced upwards slowly while the rest of your body remained paused in time, hunched over, hands gripping the pestle above the bowl of half ground herbs. Ronal raised a brow, a challenging smirk curling upon the corner of her turquoise lips. “Do you doubt your Tsahìk, Ma’numeyu?”
Immediately, you shook your head, breathing out, “No, never, Ma’tsahìk. I…” You licked your lips and whispered, “I just… that would be so… wonderful.”
And if you became the clan healer… that would mean you would get to have even more time side-by-side with the beautiful female you looked up to and adored so earnestly. Oh, yes, you wanted it – all of it, the position, the respect, the time with your Tsahìk.
Blue eyes softened as they took you in, seeing more than you perhaps wanted her to see of you, seeing the need for acknowledgement, the need to feel appreciated for your talents, the need to not be compared to someone else and found lacking. She shifted closer on her knees and lifted a hand and cupped your jaw so tenderly, the look in her eyes so warm and welcoming, so unlike your parents’ or your sisters’. “You will have earned it, Ma’numeyu,” Ronal whispered softly, earnestly, shuffling even closer to you. “Your dedication… and your talent… and your work ethic… is beyond par to any of my other students. One day… paskalin. Until then, finish grinding.” She shot you a smile, her hand cupping your cheek just a little bit firmer before it dropped.
The sound of the mauri pod front flap lifting had both female Na’vi’s looking up to see the fearsome Olo’eyktan stepping into the woven hut. His eyes immediately sought out his wife and a smile spread upon his lips.
“Hello, tìyawn,” he greeted the older woman, crossing the expanse between them and pressing his tattooed forehead to hers, their noses brushing tenderly.
You immediately dropped your gaze, face flushing as you bore witness to such a tender and intimate moment between the mated pair. Because your gaze was dropped, you missed the way the two of them glanced at you, a silent smile shared between them as they then met the other’s gaze, a conversation happening between them with only a few facial twitches and smiles.
The massive male cautiously turned and greeted you warmly. “Good afternoon, ‘eve.”
You looked up, smiling warmly and bowing your head respectfully towards your clan leader. “Good afternoon, Olo’eyktan,” you replied back.
“Just Tonowari is fine, paskalin,” he reminded you with a warm smile. It was contagious and you returned it with one of your own, blushing while bowing your head in respect once more for this man, not able to hide the shiver that ran down your spine at the nickname he had used for you. He was always just as kind and as warm as his wife was to you (in private; she couldn’t play favorites in public) and the two of them together like this… these two beautiful, wonderful people who were so genial and kind to you, it made your heart beat just a little bit faster with longing.
You… wanted…
“Unfortunately, your sa’nok is looking for you,” Tonowari’s voice made you focus back on the present and you flushed once again, this time in embarrassment at having drifted off on a mental tide. “She… seemed insistent.” There was a curiosity in his tone but all you could feel was dread at those words.
Because that was not good news.
Your mother never sought you ought on purpose.
Glancing at Ronal, she nodded, releasing you from your duties. “My apologies, Ma’tsahìk,” you murmured, setting aside your mortar and pestle and pushing yourself to your feet. “I will make it up to you tomorrow.” She laughed in enjoyment of your continued commitment to prove yourself and waved you away. You left the mauri pod with one, last respectful bow of your head to both of them before departing and stepping out into the bright sun. Shielding your eyes, you blinked a few times as your eyes adjusted to the light and turned towards the pod where your family lived, smiling at those you considered acquaintances and friends. Tsireya, Ronal and Tonowari’s eleven-year-old daughter, approached you with a bounce in her step and you grinned at her.
“Done for the day? Already?” she asked, grabbing your wrist gently, pulling you into dancing with her, much to a passing Na’vi’s amusement. “Sa’nu must be feeling kindly today.”
You laughed, spinning the pre-teen under your arm. “Your sa’nok had no choice, unfortunately,” you tell her. “My own requested the pleasure of my company.” The little girl’s smile faded somewhat, having an idea what that meant because she was getting to the age where she had started to observe the behaviors of those around her and had seen the way your own parents diminished you in comparison to your older sisters. “I’ll be fine,” you assured her, pretty sure you were lying to Tsireya’s face, pushing a curl of her hair back from her eyes like you wished your older sisters would do for you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘eve.” You moved past her and kept on walking, straightening your spine, smile fading away and your face becoming a blank mask as you prepared for whatever your parents had prepared for you, interrupting your time of learning with Ronal, which you coveted greatly. You took your fear for whatever was about to happen and you shoved it down into the pit of your stomach, trying to ignore the feel of it settling like a stone in your belly. You were strong, you were dedicated, you were talented, and maybe one day you could become Olo’zeykoyu, just as Ronal had hinted. She believed in you. She thought highly of you. Whatever was about to happen… you’d make her proud. Her and her mate both.
Stepping into your family mauri pod, you found your mother kneeling at the cook table, serving a drink to your father and another male Na’vi whose scarred back was facing you. You paused, instantly recognizing Ìtxän Te Atxzìtx Kxawun’iyan from his stylish topknot bun, the set of his broad shoulders, the marred webbing of skin on the left side of his ribs, and his shortened tail.
“You’re home ma’ite. Wonderful,” your mother greeted with uncharacteristic warmness and a smile that read false, false, false! “You have a visitor. Come say hello.”
There it was.
The commanding edge to your mother’s tone that promised emotional anguish if you disobeyed.
Ìtxän turned and smiled at you, giving you the formal greeting, hand sweeping from his forehead. “ Oel ngati tse’a,” his voice was warm.
Kind.
The way he smiled at you held hope and promise…
And you felt nothing for him.
You dutifully greeted him formally back, forcing a small smile upon your lips though you really didn’t feel like smiling. You crossed the mauri pod on legs that felt like they had something heavy weighing them down to sit across the round table from your mother, between your father and your visitor and that’s when you saw it.
The traditional Metkayinan courting gift.
You were old enough to start thinking about courting, having turned eighteen a couple of moon cycles prior to this moment and finished with most of your rites. You just had never really thought about courting, before.
Ìtxän had woven together thick fronds that he had gathered himself into a basket large enough to fill with food to feed at least three or four Na’vi. Once finished, he had had to catch, kill, gather, and prepare a meal for his intended mate, their parents and himself as a means of proving he would make an excellent provider. Once everything was ready, he had had to present it to his intended’s parents for inspection and if they approved, it would be presented to you for approval. The more elaborate the meal, the more serious the proposal to court. Usually. The fact that Ìtxän was trying to present one to you… left you feeling unbalanced. You didn’t have anything against him but you didn’t really know him. You’d barely spoken to him other than greeting him in passing or when he needed wounds looked after. Yes, you had been right by Ronal’s side when he had had a chunk taken out of him and some of his tail removed by an akula, assisting in keeping him alive and making sure he healed properly a year or so before. But other than that, neither of you had ever sought the other out. You hadn’t even realized he was interested in you.
Your father began to unpack the basket.
It wasn’t lost on you that the main dish was akula steaks and your father chuckled at that. It was prepared very elaborately, marinated with a thick dark sauce and many spices, garnished with small leafy greens. There was also a large bowl of fruit, a bowl of stalk-like vegetables more commonly known as Fire Tails due to their spicy flavor all by themselves and also happened to be a favorite of yours. To finish it off, there were small bread rolls and, last but not least, a jar of honey the size of your fist.
You and your parents both froze, seeing that innocent little jar of amber. Not because it meant something bad. Oh, no. It meant Ìtxän was pushing forward the ultimate symbol of intending to make you his mate one day.
Honey from a Paska’sngap hive was difficult to come by as the bees — which were half the size of an adult Na’vi’s skull — were harmless by themselves and usually didn’t attack unless it felt threatened. An individual bee could sting up to three times before it died and each sting would release a bit of toxin which would take about a day or two to recover from after their stingers were removed from your skin. And typically, a Na’vi could survive a handful of stings but multiple stings from a dozen or more Paska’sngap’s could result in enough toxin in their bloodstream to act as a paralytic so that bigger creatures could be able to eat the helpless Na’vi. Even more stings than that – say, if the whole hive stung you – that much toxin could stop your heart. Foraging for honeycombs was usually a test of endurance, skill and speed as the bees could swarm in defense of their home and easily overpower any being. The fact that Ìtxän had accumulated so much of the sweetest honeycombs anyone in the clan had ever tasted…
You looked up at Ìtxän who was smiling at you so brightly and hopefully… and still felt nothing.
Your parents laid out the dishes and your mother looked up at you expectantly when you didn’t move. “Well, ma’ite?” She prompted and you swore you could hear her teeth grinding. You looked from the delicious food spread out in front of you and you had to admit, it looked wondrous with all of the hard work he put into it but you couldn’t lie. Not about this. Sitting back on your knees, you lowered your head into a respectful bow towards Ìtxän, eyes lowered, ears twitched back because you knew your parents were about to be furious with you. “I formally apologize Ìtxän Te Atxzìtx Kxawun’iyan but I cannot and do not accept.” Your mother, predictably, hissed loudly as you scrambled to your feet and away from the table, your father looking severely disappointed with you, scowling harshly. “Why not?” she snarled. “I don’t know him!” You shouted right back, tail lashing. You glanced at Ìtxän, voice lowering as you repeated softly, “I don’t know you. I didn’t even know you were interested in me. And then… this…” You waved your hand at the meal on the table and stared at him. You shook your head. “I can’t… I…” You turned away and darted out of your family mauri pod, ignoring your mother’s calls, pumping your legs and running down the bouncy walkway as fast as you could, dodging people just barely enough to not crash into them until you could dive out into the water and swim. An ilu you preferred and called Ìstaw approached you and you quickly grabbed hold, making tsaheylu and bonding with him so you could get away even faster. Together, you and the ilu swam to what you liked to consider your secret cave, breaking the surface of the water and looking around the grotto. “Thank you, Ìstaw,” you smiled gratefully, breaking the bond and hauling yourself up onto the stone lip. Turning back to see him still watching you, you reached and rubbed his head gently with a smile, telling him, “I’ll swim back on my own when I’m ready.” The ilu bowed its head and returned the way it came, disappearing from view. With a sigh, you took in your secret cave and felt yourself relax, being away from your parents and their expectations. The bioluminescent flora growing over the roof of the cavern was beautiful and pink, glowing bright, along with the hole showing you a small circle of the sky and giving you ample light to see. With it being high-tide, the water lapped at the stone lip gently, spilling a little bit of water up and over with every slow wave and hiding the lowered entrance to the grotto. With the lapping water in mind, over the years, you had built yourself a sleeping pad up and off of the ground, padding it with layers of moss and blankets you had woven together to make it quite comfortable. You had trinkets, like a collection of shells, a couple of handmade instruments, and spare ingredients and tools you needed for your craft in healing. You also had some freshwater casks and fishing gear so you could feed yourself if you wanted to stay for a night or two. The perfect little getaway when your family’s overbearing attitudes and expectations got too much. Slumping down onto the sleeping pad which was big enough for you to stretch out and still have some room, you felt your emotions rise up and overwhelm you. How dare your parents spring this courting request upon you?! How dare Ìtxän?! And why had they bothered with him? Why had they been so eager? Your sisters were single and they were “better” in your parents’ eyes so shouldn’t they have wanted someone to come courting them first? Unless they figured if you left the mauri pod, your sisters would have better chances. Or they just wanted you out of the way. And this thought made you cry. Did they really hate you so much? Your emotions poured out of you and you cried and cried until you exhausted yourself, falling asleep upon your sleeping mat, curling in on yourself, tail pulled tightly into the backs of your thighs and you didn’t dream. Thankfully, you didn’t dream. 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸
Waking slowly with warmth trickling through your limbs, you felt groggy and disoriented and unable to shake the fuzzy plant fibers from your mind. You were cognizant enough to realize you felt feverish and achy. Sitting up slowly, a wave of dizziness took hold of you and you flopped back down. Your belly, or maybe right below that, was clenching against the emptiness you felt inside of yourself.
Ohhh…
Oh, you felt… need… carnal need.
You had started your first heat?
“Oh no,” you moaned in self-pity.
From the conversations you had overheard your mother have with your sisters, you weren’t supposed to start having your heat cycles until you began to indulge in sexual pleasure with someone – and you hadn’t. You were dedicated to learning how to be the best zeykoyu you could be… and spoil yourself with the delectation of Ronal’s company. If you took care of yourself on occasion in the dead of the night or here in your secret cave, you did it by yourself with no one for company but your thoughts and imagination. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…”
You shook your head, trying to ignore the exacerbating warmth unfurling beneath your belly, that bubbling heat sending out the signal throughout your limbs that you needed a partner to take care of you in the most lascivious of ways possible. A nonexistent partner because you weren’t interested in anyone…
Anyone obtainable, that is.
While Na’vi were inherently sexual beings and it wasn’t entirely unheard of that some mated couples took on a third, you were nothing but her student and while Tonowari – her mate, her partner, the love of her life, the father of her children, you reminded yourself — was very handsome, and kind and wonderful, there was something about Ronal that just called to you even more. Appealed to you more. She was, in a way, even fiercer than her husband, almost frighteningly so. But she was also graceful and beautiful and strong and wise and…
Oh… Eywa, you had it so bad for her.
Not saying there was anything wrong with all of those strong muscles and that filthy smirk you’d seen him shoot Ronal once or twice before they suddenly disappeared for an hour or so, coming back to smell strongly of musk.
Oh… and just the thought of him being able to pick you up easily and manhandle you however he saw fit?
And then your mind’s eye drifted down to his tewng, wondering exactly what he had been endowed with. Probably something very enticing if Ronal shirked her duties for a bit every so often for a moment of pleasure with her mate.
You began to tremble as a wave of lust washed over you like a gentle wave.
Trying to focus on what you had been taught by Ronal and what you had heard about these symptoms from other sexually active women in the clan, you took stock of the heat that was prickling beneath your skin, an itch you couldn’t seem to scratch as you writhed upon your sleeping mat. A near dizzying surge of warmth pulsed from your core and you finally registered the wetness seeping from that place between your legs, preparing you to be taken and pleasured and fucked. You needed your clothing off and struggled with shaking fingers to untie your necklace and your Tewng, succeeded after a few stuttered curses and tears leaking from your blue eyes.
“Ohhh,” you whined, throwing your clothing away and curling up tighter into a ball as your body wracked with desperate need. “This can’t be happening.”
Behind the curve of your naked back while you trembled, with the tide going out, you didn’t notice Ronal appear with the ilu you named Ìstaw at the visible mouth of the grotto, which allowed air into the cave twice a day. You didn’t see her lift her tattooed face and scent the air and understanding wash over her as her pupils dilated. You didn’t hear her thank the ilu, nor when she disconnected her queue, sending him away to find her mate and slowly approaching you through the waves. You did hear the water “sploosh” off of her body as she hauled herself up onto the stone lip and came to sit at your side, the sea water dripping off her and onto your overheated skin not doing much to cool the fire burning within you.
“Oh, Ma’numeyu,” Ronal cooed gently, gently looking over you and brushing away the curls from your turquoise face. “When did this start?”
Tears welled up in your blue eyes and you whimpered, “It shouldn’t have started at all, Ma’tsahìk. I haven’t… I never — not with someone!” A harsher shiver wracked through your body and you trembled visibly like you were wracked with sickness, your muscles tightening and releasing spasmodically. “It hurts… Ronal. Is it supposed to hurt?”
You’ve never used her given name before but the clawing need inside of you, the heat burning your body from the inside out, you absently hoped she could forgive you when all was said and done. The tattooed woman gently forced you onto your back, her hands resting upon your sweat damp brow and the naked curve of your mons, just above where you ached the most. You couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping your throat and screwed your eyes up tightly. You didn’t want to see any pity for your predicament, any disappointment, if she… for whatever reason… maybe thought you were lying.
“Oh, paskalin,” the warmth in her tone made you look hesitantly up at her, “this is a gift from Ewya to put us all on the path together that she wants from us. Ma’muntxatan and I were going to speak with you later today… but Eywa pushed us to this, by giving you this gift and having us show you in a different way that we can take care of you.”
Us?
Together?
She and her husband…
She couldn’t mean… could she?
“May I touch you paskalin?” She asked gently. “Touch will ease the fire within you.”
Oh, Eywa, yes. Please.
Ronal laughed. Oh, had you said that out loud? You flushed, face getting a touch hotter, if that was possible. Then you were distracted by a pretty mouth caressing your own chastely and delicate hands with calloused fingertips gently sliding over your heated flesh. A wanton moan bounced off the grotto walls. “Yes, paskalin, let it out. Tell me your needs and I will fix it.”
“Please,” you begged. “Kiss me some more. Touch me some more. Anything. Everything. Please… just let it be you, Ma’tsahìk.”
The older woman hummed and slid onto the sleeping mat you had created, kneeling between your thighs and reaching up to remove her necklace. Her breasts were large for a Na’vi and her hardened nipples were a darker shade than her beautiful turquoise skin. And it was a sight to behold. You whined and reached for her eagerly, arms trembling. With a predatory look, she swooped in and kissed you hungrily, one arm holding herself up, the other sneakily cupping one of your own breasts, her thumb playing with your nipple, swallowing your moan of approval. She tasted sweet, of fruit and honey, and you could easily see yourself get addicted to her flavor.
Pulling back to breathe, Ronal moved down to your neck, kissing, sucking, nibbling your flesh as she played with you breast, humming in approval as you slid a hand down her back, fingers digging into the swell of her backside and shifting your hips to find you grinding against her knee. You released a whimper.
“Mawey, paskalin,” she teased, raking her fangs against a forming bruise upon your throat. “Trust me to take care of you.”
Her mouth found your neglected breast.
You couldn’t help but let out a whine as the tattooed woman sucked on your sensitive nipple, the pleasure causing your core to clench harder around nothing. Oh, how you needed it. Needed her. But she promised she would take care of you. As if reading your mind, her lips finally descended from your breast down your belly, licking and sucking at your hips, her fingers holding you down to prevent you squirming. Your eagerness for her attentions caused her to hum in glee. Finally, she came to the juncture of your legs. “Fuck,” Ronal breathed, surprising you with her foul language as her eyelids fluttered shut as her nostrils flares. “Oh, paskalin. You are so slick for me. Smell so sweet.”
You can’t help but nod almost frantically, hips faux fighting her strong grip, wanting to rock up against her face. “For you, yes, yes, yes,” you admit with a whining chant. “It’s always been you. Admire you. Adore you. Want you!” She smirked at that.
“Then you shall have me,” the older woman vowed. She finally pressed her face forward.
A tongue surprisingly broad swept up the lips of your vulva before it poked between them and found your clit, lightly stroking and making you nearly scream out a curse, her hands struggling to hold your hips as you arched into the touch that caused lightning to zap through you.
It didn’t register when a second set of hands, much larger than the ones before, suddenly held your hips down much firmer. You were too swept up in the feel of that tongue dipping and dancing between your folds, alternating between licks and gently prodding against your nub. And when two delicate fingers pressed into you, you choked on your moans and gasps, absently clasping onto the thick forearms to help ground yourself just a little. Ronal continued to feast upon you, withdrawing her fingers to slide her tongue into your depths. Where her fingers failed, her tongue found a spot that made you mewl and moan worse than before and that coil inside you wound tight.
“Oh please, oh please, oh please,” you sobbed, screaming out as a gentle pinch to your clit and her tongue pressing on that spongy spot inside you had your first orgasm of the day crash through you like a furious Akula. “RONAL!”
The older woman lapped at you like a hungry kitten, easing you through your afterglow with a smirk adorning her face that you only saw after you opened your eyes.
Tonowari stared down at you with a heated smirk as he left over his wife’s back to hold you down to your sleeping mat. “My turn,” he purred. Ronal slid over one of your thighs and laid down with her back to the cavern wall as her mate scooped you up easily and took your place on the bedding, lying back as you had been doing and dexterously adjusting you into a kneeling position above his chin. “Now sit, paskalin. It’s my turn to feast.”
Glancing at Ronal, she just smirked at you. “You are in for a treat,” she promised with a knowing smirk.
With one of his large, warm hands wrapped around one of our thighs, Tonowari cupped your backside with the other to support your weight and pulled you down onto his hungry mouth. Immediately, his tongue darted out to lick a stripe from your sensitive entrance to your clit, causing a high-pitched squeal to rip itself from your throat which nearly smothered his low moan.
Ronal nearly cackled in glee, questioning her mate, “She is divine, is she not, Muntxatan? She is even sweeter when she cums.” A hum of agreement was the only response before he truly began to feast upon your flesh.
Tonowari ate at your pussy like a man starved, voracious in his appetite, nose massaging at your clit while his tongue worked tirelessly inside of you, his arms preventing you from rocking your hips more than just lightly. You couldn’t help the movement as his experience coiled you tightly quickly, the cries and moans endlessly pouring from you as he quickly dragged you closer to your second orgasm. His tongue was even longer than his wife’s, thicker too and it wasn’t long before he coaxed you through a second orgasm, his name a stuttering scream. “T’no’ri!” It was a garbled mess but the intensity of two orgasms in less than an hour had you slurring and incoherent once more, shaking like a leaf in a storm, muscles twitching and spasming until it plateaued into bliss that left you feeling like boneless jelly.
Luckily, his wife was there to help ease you off of her husband’s face and manipulated your body to straddle his thighs.
“Oh,” you whined, seeing that at some point between you mounting his mouth and now, his tewng had disappeared and he was even more endowed than you had briefly allowed yourself to imagine. You should have realized, though, as the male was massive all-over, he would have a thick, long cock as well, slightly darker turquoise than his skin, almost rivaling Ronal’s nipples in shade and the stripes were raised and bumpy with little ridges and nodules.
Ronal smirked up at you and turned, kissing her husband’s messy face with her own.
“Say you want this paskalin,” Tonowari rumbled out, voice a deep purr that sent shovers down your spine.
You nodded with a whine, “Yes, please. Eywa, oh please.”
He guided you down slowly onto his shaft, the slick from your previous orgasms aiding his insertion, the achiness of your heat finally subsiding despite the pleasure he and Ronal had coaxed out of you.
You whined, feeling yourself stretch around his girth as you sank him in deeper and deeper inside of your body. Beside you, Ronal had made tsaheylu with her mat so she could share in on the pleasure. And then Tonowari began to move, guiding your hips over his fat cock and beginning to fuck up into your greedy cunt, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Shifting his legs into a bent position, it shifted the angle inside of you, allowing him even deeper penetration. His hands lifted you up and then he thrust up into you as you slid back down upon his cock, the head of his shaft bullying close to your cervix and causing stars to burst behind your eyelids.
“Oh, ‘Wari, yes, please,” you begged, grinding down on him, chasing your pleasure as it built higher and higher up inside of you. His thrusts became harder, sloppier, causing your whole body to shake as that coil in your belly tightened once more. “Oh, Eywa, don’t stop,” you sobbed, reaching out to ground yourself and intertwined your fingers with Ronal’s. “Please don’t stop! Knot me! Please!”
“Do it, muntxatan,” Ronal encouraged, her hand working steadily at her own center as she watched hungrily.
“Mine!” Tonowari snarled, gripping your hips tightly and slamming you down onto his cock. You came with a scream, your gummy walls camping down upon your Olo’eyktan’s length like a vice. His knot had begun to swell and he forced you down onto him one final time with a roar, locking you in place as he came, shooting ropes upon ropes of seed deep into your depths while your greedy depths milked his dry and filled your womb with potent seed.
The pleasure was overwhelming.
“I think we wore her out,” Tonowari chuckled as you lay there, half conscious a moment or two or five later.
You were only partially aware of when his wife smacked his arm. “It’s her first heat, brought on by the will of Eywa,” she reminded him, kissing your shoulder. “You will be kind to our ‘eve. She was untouched before me.” He must have rumbled something in response because the last thing you heard before drifting off for a short nap was, “Give her a moment then we may feast upon her honey again.”
𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸
Originally Posted: 31 October 2023 Word Count: 5,357
AO3
@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng @teyamsatan @lovefrommeelise
121 notes · View notes
liminal-space-lesbian · 7 months
Text
Disgustingly In Love
This was based off of the amazing Wenclair fanart by pixels.on.a.screen on instagram. Please go check her out and enjoy her amazing art!
Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair
Warnings: Wednesday having feelings?? Also Wednesday not knowing how to communicate
Summary: Over summer break Wednesday comes to a realization.... A realization that she is disgustingly in love with Enid Sinclair.
Words: 2,360
Wednesday Addams was not a girl for feelings. She detested them, considering them a hindrance; simply clouding ones judgment. And yet... Wednesday found herself in a dilemma.
Over the summer, after her adventures at Nevermore Academy Wednesday was trying to focus on her newest mystery. Who was her stalker that keeps sending her these threatening messages? As well as multiple surprisingly well animated gifs of her getting maimed in various ways.
This was her first priority, something she needed to apply her undivided attention too. And yet... There was this... feeling that was ever so distracting. A feeling akin to warm honey dripping through her chest cavity, sticking to everything it touched and warming Wednesday's cold heart. A feeling like bees buzzing inside her stomach whenever she so much as thought of...
Enid.
Enid, Enid, Enid.
The damn werewolf permeated every thought Wednesday had. Every time she dedicated time to finding out who her stalker was, the blond would somehow worm her way to the forefront of her mind. Wednesday was irritated, and frankly a bit confused. She didn't even know she was capable of having feelings. She always prided herself on her aloof and detached nature, considering it one of her best strengths.
Yet this girl, who was the complete and polar opposite of Wednesday herself, refused to leave her mind. Wednesday despised everything Enid stood for. Her brightly colored attire, her bubbly personality, her love for obnoxiously loud pop music- everything! And yet... Oh how Wednesday adored her.
She adored Enid's bright smile, and the way her eyes glittered with excitement. She admired Enid's friendliness; her willingness to push past all of Wednesday's walls and get to know her beneath her cold exterior. She craved the way Enid so easily gave out affection. Words of affirmation, acts of service, physical touch, gifts- every love language Enid had. She shared her love so openly and with such warmth that it was even enough to defrost Wednesday's resolve.
It made Wednesday sick.
How could this girl have done this to her? How could she elicit a physical and psychological reaction out of Wednesday when she wasn't even in the same room as her? Wednesday felt her heart race when Enid would text her, and her mouth would go dry whenever Enid requested to call. Every letter, every word, it was engraving these feelings deeper and deeper into Wednesday's very being.
She despised it.
But oh, how she adored her.
Wednesday was disgusted with herself when she finally came to the agonizing conclusion that she was in love with the werewolf. She had always sworn to never become like her father and yet here she was, sitting at her typewriter and trying to form a letter to accurately depict the feeling she had for the blond. Countless crumpled papers lay on the floor surrounding her. She would write half of a sentence and it would instantly be deemed unworthy. How could she even begin to put into words the fire she felt within her?
How could she possibly explain how every night as she laid down to sleep all she could think of was how warm Enid had felt in her arms that night? How could she explain that every moment of every day Wednesday wished Enid could be there beside her? She missed her.
She missed her in a way that ached down to her very bones. Sometimes she would sit outside in the rain just to think, to reminisce. She missed Enid's obnoxiously bright outfits, she missed the way Enid didn't have an 'inside voice'. She missed the way the werewolf would grind her teeth in her sleep, and she even missed the annoying pop music that Enid insisted on playing every single morning.
Most of all she missed the way Enid would look at her. Those blue eyes were so deep Wednesday dared not stare too long for fear of getting lost. Enid would look at her in a way nobody else had. Most people gazed at Wednesday with distrust and a vague look of fear. Enid however, always looked at her with such warmth and with such friendliness that it made her insides melt into a puddle.
So as Wednesday stepped back onto the steps of Nevermore, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement. As she trudged up the stairs to the familiarity of their old shared dorm, Wednesday held her breath as she opened the door. The heavy oak wood swung out on it's hinges, silent as ever since Wednesday had oiled them last semester, detesting the creak they used to carry.
The dorm looked just as they had left it. Half of the large glass window still adorned in the brightly colored translucent stickers, while the other half lay barren. A line of tape on the floor separating both sides, though a bit faded, still remained. She even noticed the mark left in the beam from where Tyler had stabbed Thing. The memory left a bitter taste at the back of her tongue.
Wednesday stood there for a moment, taking in the sight as well as the nostalgia.
And then...
"Wednesday!"
Her attention was drawn to Enid's side of the room. There she was! Wednesday felt her heart stutter in her chest. Enid stood up from where she had been knelt on the floor, unpacking her things. She rushed over to Wednesday and halted just short of her personal space. Wednesday's heart squeezed painfully at the gesture. Enid was such a hugger but even in her excitement she never pushed Wednesday's boundaries.
I love her. Wednesday thought as she took in her appearance. Enid seemed to have grown a bit taller over the break, Wednesday realized. She now had to angle her face upwards ever so slightly to look the werewolf properly in the eye. Enid's hair had also grown out slightly, leaving her roots darker as the ends of her hair were still a familiar (yet faded) blue and pink.
"I missed you so much over the break!" Enid exclaimed with a bright smile, a pink tint entering her face as she let out a giddy laugh. She rocked back and forth on her heels, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. She was obviously resisting the urge to touch Wednesday. If the ravenette was honest, she was as well. She missed Enid. She wanted nothing more to wrap her in her arms and never let go. She just didn't know how.
That was something Wednesday envied about Enid; how she treated affection so simply. She would watch as Enid hugged Yoko, and slung her arm over Divina's shoulders so casually during conversation. Jealousy would boil within her whenever she saw the blond with Ajax. She wanted Enid's affection. She just couldn't figure out how to ask for it.
"I mean- I know we texted and stuff but it's not the same as being able to see you. In person I mean. You look great by the way! Have you started wearing a lip stain? I swear your lips look a bit-" Enid was rambling now, seemingly nervous by Wednesday's prolonged silence. She mentally scolded herself for making Enid feel anxious. Couldn't she gather her thoughts long enough to at least grant the blond with a response?
"Anyways- how have you been?" Enid asked finally, clamping her jaw shut in an anxious smile, attempting to stop her own mindless blabbering. Wednesday spotted the tension around her mouth, and the way the smile didn't reach her eyes. The way her eyebrows ticked ever so slightly up was an obvious tell that Enid was nervous. Poor thing.
"I am afraid I am indubitably and disgustingly in love with you." The words fell from Wednesday's maroon stained lips before she could stop herself. She felt her cold heart stop in her chest. Enid's eyes widened ever so slightly and her lips parted in surprise.
"Eh-?" An awkward sound came from the back of Enid's throat as she floundered for words. Wednesday schooled her features, but inside was absolute carnage. Why on earth had she said it like that? Could she be any less romantic? God, Enid deserved a confession better than that. Perhaps a moonlit dinner with rose petals strewn across the floor. Wednesday always thought her fathers big romantic gestures were pointless and flashy, but now she understood.
"You're what?" Enid stammered, swallowing thickly as she stared down at Wednesday, searching her expression desperately. Wednesday sighed and dropped her gaze from the blond's for a moment. Oh she had really done it now, hadn't she?
"I am in love with you." She repeats, a bit quieter now as she stares down at Enid's hands where they anxiously toy with the bottom of her uniform blazer. She wants to take her hands, hold them in her own. She wants to kiss every knuckle and promise she will do this confession over in a much more romantic setting,
But she doesn't.
She doesn't know how.
"W-Willa..." Enid trails off, and Wednesday's heart squeezes at Enid's use of her old nickname. The ravenette despised the nickname at first, thinking it was stupid and childish. However, now as Enid says it to he in that tone of voice, she cherishes every syllable.
"I-I don't-" The werewolf says helplessly, dipping her head down slightly to try and catch Wednesday's gaze. The action causes Wednesday to swoon slightly, although she doesn't let it show. "I don't understand?" Enid offers in a confused tone, searching Wednesday's stoic face.
"Over the summer, my main focus was supposed to be my newest mystery; discovering who my stalker is. And yet, every time I sat down to try and concentrate I could only think of one thing." Wednesday paused, taking a deep breath and meeting Enid's gaze. "You." She said, her voice quivering uncharacteristically. She hoped her gaze conveyed every emotion she wished she knew how to put into words. Wednesday wished more than anything in this moment that she knew how to explain to Enid the sheer depth of her feelings. She had to know.
"You are like a plague to me. You are inescapable- and every memory we have shared together repeats in my mind every time I lay my head down to sleep. When I close my eyes I see your face, and when I am awake I hear your voice in the back of my mind." Wednesday continued, trying desperately to convey the things she had been feeling over the months they spent apart.
"I felt excitement for the first time since I was nine years old and my parents allowed me to perform my first evisceration independently this morning, and that excitement was to see you." Wednesday licked her lips nervously as Enid's eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Perhaps she needed more clarity?
"I missed you, Enid." She finishes her speech, staring up at the werewolf with wide eyes. She waits for a reaction, any type of response as Enid stares down at her, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously. She sniffles and wipes her eyes.
"Oh Wednesday-" The way Enid says her name causes goosbumps to rise on her skin. Enid can't seem to hold herself back anymore and before she knows it she is wrapped in a warm embrace. She instantly melts into the blond's arms. She presses her face into the side of Enid's neck and inhales. Enid smells like rose and vanilla, a comforting and sickeningly sweet scent. Wednesday wraps her arms around the werewolf, firmly pressing her closer. Every inch of the ravenette's skin is aflame, Enid's touch warming her down to her very soul.
"I love you too Willa." Enid murmurs as she sniffles, hugging Wednesday impossibly closer. To her surprise, Wednesday feels tears burning her eyes as well. She hadn't realized how much fear of rejection she had been holding until this very moment. The confirmation that Enid felt the same was such a relief that she couldn't help the single tear that fell from her eye.
All too soon, Enid pulls back and looks down at Wednesday with those soft eyes. She feels herself melt under the werewolf's gaze, staring back up at her in awe as the taller girl gently holds Wednesday's face in her hands, swiping away her tears with her thumbs. Enid opens her mouth to speak, but Wednesday beats her to it.
"May I kiss you?" She asks, her voice breathy and quiet. Enid doesn't respond, simply pulling Wednesday closer. Her eyes slide shut and her heart stops in her chest before resuming beating at double time. Enid's lips feel all too soft against hers, too plush and too perfect. She tasted like heaven, and Wednesday felt almost guilty at how good it felt to kiss her.
Wednesday's hands came to rest on Enid's waist, gripping her blazer tightly as she leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss her firmer. She never wanted to stop kissing her. She never wanted to stop touching her. She never wanted to be apart from Enid again, because Enid was everything to her.
"I love you." Wednesday confessed again, her mouth moving against Enid's as she pressed impossibly closer. Enid pulled back breathlessly, giving a giddy giggle as she grinned down at Wednesday.
"I love you too." She said, her face flushed as she gently ran her fingers along Wednesday's freckles. "And as much as I love kissing you... We do need to go to orientation or we'll get in trouble." She says in a reluctant tone. Wednesday scowls, causing Enid to chuckle and gently smooth the space between her eyebrows with her thumb.
"I know... But we can cuddle later." Enid says with a broad smile, and even though Wednesday's heart jumps at the prospect of holding Enid close, she rolls her eyes nearly playfully.
"Fine. Let us go then." She says with a deep sigh, grasping Enid's hand in her own as she leads the blond out of the dorm. She never once releases her grip on Enid, and she doesn't plan to for the rest of her life. Because Enid was hers, and most importantly, she was Enid's.
a/n not proofread so if it sucks that's why <3
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trishabeakens · 3 months
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Bernadette (Bee) belongs to my best friend @saltyhibiscus but she made a joke about Bee and Evelyn accidentally letting a raccoon into Wick's house and I had to draw it.
Also here's Eve's toyhou.se for her info and such. I may,, share her more... who knows tho.
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greenwitchcrafts · 5 months
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Sage
Salvia officinalis
Known as: Common sage, green sage, garden sage, meadow sage, culinary sage & true sage
Related plants: A member of the of the mint family Lamiaceae that includes plants such as basil, mint, rosemary, sage, savory, marjoram, oregano, hyssop, thyme, lavender & perilla as well as catnip, salvia, bee balm, wild dagga & oriental motherwort.
Parts used: Leaves & stems
Habitat and cultivation: This evergreen subshrub is native to the Mediterranean region with it's mild to cool, rainy winters & warm to hot, dry summers.
Plant type: Perennial
Region: Zone 5-8 your sage will grow as a hardy perennial. However in the humid climates of zones 9 & farther south, sage is usually an annual, as it does not easily tolerate summer heat & humidity.
Harvest: Harvest lightly in the first year to ensure the plant grows fully. After the first year, be sure to leave a few stalks so that the plant can rejuvenate in the future & If fully established, one plant can be harvested up to three times in one season.
Planting tips: Plant in full sun & plants should be two feet apart. Sage should be planted in well draining soil like a sandy or loamy soil with good drainage. Wet soils can cause rot and be fatal to the plant. The easiest and best way to start sage is from a small plant, but you can also sow seeds up to two weeks before the last frost date.
Medicinal information: Taking sage by mouth seems to improve memory and thinking skills in healthy adults & taking it for four weeks can improve menopause symptoms. One study found that drinking tea made from sage both raised antioxidant defenses and lowered LDL or “bad” cholesterol. It also could be used for pain after surgery, lung cancer, sore throat, sunburn, and many other conditions. Sage leaves have been used in traditional medicine as a treatment for diabetes.
Cautions: Sage is possibly unsafe when taken in high doses or for a long time due to a chemical called thujone. Too much thujone can cause seizures and damage the liver and nervous system. Thujone can also bring on a menstrual period, which could cause a miscarriage so taking sage during pregnancy is not advised. It may also reduce milk production while chest feeding.
Magickal properties
Gender: Masculine
Planet: Jupiter
Element: Air
Deities: Chiron, Consus, Jupiter, Obatala & Zeus
Magickal uses:
• Use the leaves for tea for communion of Jupiter or in any workings involved with the planet & grounding
• Burn to find clarity & wisdom while asking difficult questions
• Write a wish on Sage leaf and burn it to release your intention
• Place a Sage leaf in your wallet to attract money
• Include in feminine fertility spells to boost your chances of success
• Add Sage oil incense or herbs to any spell to temper the results with wisdom
• Burn during a funeral & memorial to facilitate healthy grief and bonding with the spirits of those who passed on
• Use spells to alleviate grief & steady emotions
• Put in a satchet to carry from protection from negative energies & influences
• Burn to cleanse your home, clear negative energies & increase your intuition
• Rub sage on your forehead before divination to increase the accuracy of your results
• Pick twelve leaves at midnight on Christmas Eve to see a vision of your future husband(without damaging the bush)
• Write your desire on a sage leafe & place it under your pillow for three days. If you dream of your desire, it will soon materialize. If not, bury the sage.
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holyhuppert · 1 year
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And to think that for a split of a second i really hoped Eve would show up to the golden globes, but who am i kidding? she's probably having the time of her life drinking tea with her bees somewhere
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The temptation I have to make t-shirts that say "I ❤️ bees for Best"
If anyone has any t-shirt design talent, please go for it. I think it would be hilarious, especially for Steve to have one.
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