#he comes back his hand in that some someone bent on conquest and a new purpose

[thedragonsfate]

ok but helioc followers being doomed inherently if they have any tragic or untimely death because they're taught that "Helio wouldn't let that happen" and similar principles

Being taught to live for the afterlife but also to expect worldly challenges like murder/tragedy/etc are something you are like. Immune to somehow? In living?

You are devoted to Helio and in so you will have a peaceful death, one that is fair and just and I'm befitting circumstances. Or at least that if you are subject to a tragic death, Helio will be there to hold you with open arms and some kind of REASON. Something to bring a wholeness to the upset of not getting what you've been taught to expect.

This idea that you are helioc and so your death is Helioc. Helio must have a plan for you, and your death will not be untimely, and if it seems so it serves a greater purpose that is theologically rewarding. Because of course it does.

You are helioc and so you don't just die for no reason. Death is a moment of respite and a crossing into everlasting life and it will ALWAYS be for a greater reason if not simply your salvation.

Helioc followers (and followers of sol) learning that sense of disdain for their non or "wrongly" faithful peers due to that sense of superiority. That sense of superiority extending past your feelings about others and into your expectations for how you will pass into the afterlife.

That superiority creating a fellowship that EXPECTS Helio to save them in the living world - because you've been good, it's not your time yet, Helio wouldn't let that happen to you, his faithful servant. You are faithful and he would not punish you with a an unjustified death.

You are ENTITLED to a befitting death into afterlife because you are Good where the world is Bad and you do everything you can to remind those who do not follow your god, to relentlessly try to convert them, to fall into the trap you fell in so long ago shaped by fear, by a victim complex, by isolation from other groups that makes you hostile toward them, even if behind a smile.

A world that is Fundamentally and Observably polytheistic, where the Helioc unfortunate enough to befall a tragic, untimely, or unexplainable death are -doomed- to the faith upon meeting their Deity. Because unlike those of the faith who have passed peacefully or for their own martyrdom or whatever else, you show up to the corny gates and something is Wrong. Your god comes to you with love but he did not protect you in the way you're certain he was supposed to. In the way you were taught you DESERVED.

This is not a reward for your devotion and it cannot be justified. Your god is a Fratboy of Corn who is unable to answer your questions because to answer your questions truthfully would be to unravel the principles fundamental to your religion. To acknowledge that "bad things happen [to good people] because Things Happen" is to admit that being Helioc does not Save You from the wrath of the cosmos. That being Helioc does not make you uniquely and automatically good, and therefore safe from the happenstance of the world. That the good people you watched suffer did not Earn it in some way, they were just dealt that hand. The hard times befallen upon your worldly siblings is not something that happens because they weren't "devout enough."

to admit Helio is not inherently more holy than any other deity, is the kind of truth that can destroy this type of faith, and Helio needs to stay alive. Gods are not of the material, but they're dependent on their followers to survive. To bend to what their followers preach and create as their religion in this SPECIFIC way means that you can no longer be truthful about these matters when (if) they ask. In the right hands it could destroy him. He needs the unwavering faith the church has built to stay as strong as he has been, because that it how he's maintained the power he's had until now. He no longer knows another way. And that's excluding whatever influence Sol/the church of Sol has on him and his domain.

Helio not only cannot answer truthfully, but is DESTINED to get himself out of dodge quick upon being asked. Because as above so below, and the church is not known for its ability or willingness to take responsibility.

And if youre disillusioned enough, or angry enough, or sharp enough to put that together from an interaction in any way similar to Kristen's in freshman year, then the betrayal of your own God is GOING to take over.

Maybe you're like Kristen and you start asking questions, maybe you're like Buddy and take the rageful hand that offers to ressurect you the way your own God "should have".

But to die in the way they died automatically puts them in a position that if they are to get to heaven and ask questions, or have conflicting feelings strong enough to get you thinking, then they're DOOMED either to be disappointed with Helio or to dig deeper into deluding themselves. This of course will not always trigger a loss of faith, ans plenty of people leave the church in living for a myriad of reasons - we saw this with the summer of endless night. But there's something so interesting in the way the nature of your death could be further reinforcement of your ideals or completely shatter them in one fell swoop, even upon reaching the place of blessed afterlife.

because the Church of Helio seems different from the other religions we've seen in game in that over time the modern faith has been been BUILT on expectation and a sense of deserving more than others. And to die in a manner directly opposed to your own sense of entitlement is all that the latent anger may need to break that follower-deity relationship

Of course Kristen met Helio and was immediately unsure about her direction in life. On the other side of that coin, of course Buddy let his faith go to come back to life to serve a corrupt god of rage. They're children killed young and devout, who's deaths are orchestrated by powers out of their hands, and not in line with the ideals taught by your god.

The difference being how entrenched you are when that happens, and who's there to pull you out.

[randomnameless]

I think there's another element that just screams why Wilhelm's meritocracy failed. Nemesis and the Elites weren't just viewed as heroes, their weapons were viewed as sacred and people followed their example by killing and stealing to increase their own power. The Empire were viewed as zealots by their people, people which Wilhelm then took into his power. These people believed in an ideology that seems to have viewed Agarthans as gods, their belief systems are going to align with that ideology and while some might have bent the knee and some might have fled, others might have just paid lip service to the new religion in order to maintain their own power (much like Lorenz says they do in the present).

This whole discussion also seems to make what Wilhelm did not much better than Edelgard's "I'll conquer lands and kill any leaders who don't bend the knee," and irony is coming to bite Rhea in the ass by a descendant who champions the same beliefs she fought against But on the other hand, their intents were different. Wilhelm wanted unification to end the bloodshed and stealing, bringing peace to Fodlan. Edelgard broke the peace to bring those ways back and increase her own power, completing the moral decline and becoming everything the Empire was supposed to be against.

TBF,

Both Wilhelm and Supreme Leader start wars of conquest, so there are some similarities, but as you said, intent was different.

Which might explain why there were - if we follow this theory/hc - why there was no civil war in WoH Adrestia, when Tru Piss ends up with dealing with "unrest", in the Tru Piss situation, instead of appointing Leopold as the governer of Leicester, Willy could have appointed Gloucester Sr and conscripted part of his troops in the Adrestian War Effort.

The "bend the knee or die" behaviour from Supreme Leader comes from her wish to be the only, well, "Supreme Leader" of Fodlan and/or as explained in FE16, try to replace Sothis/the CoS in Fodlan by herself.

I guess in the WoH's situation, it was either "side with us or with nemesis", with the added twist that siding with Nemesis meant being an inherent threat to Adrestia (if might makes right), the CoS's teachings and Nabateans themselves - I'd say Willy was paranoiac but who wouldn't be if they had to deal with this situation : siding with Nemesis means possibly learning how to make Relics and that's, imo in this theory, the one thing Wilhelm wants to avoid at all costs.

Like, siding with Nemesis would have meant those people want to continue to kill/pillage/burn because "they're strong so they can do it", and possibly turn against Wilhelm's trusted allies (if not more! like, possibly, his own son!) to turn them in shiny weapons to become even "stronger".

In the end, it doesn't matter, because subjugation is subjugation, but if Willy doesn't want to MAGA - or isn't as obsessed with it as his most well-known scion - but only to kill Nemesis and make Fodlan a peaceful land where Nabateans can exist, I could see Adrestian occupation being "lighter" then, say, what happens in Firdhiad during AM.

Thinking about this though, I wonder if Rhea mediating and ackowledging the Kingdom's existence isn't a way to "make up" for Willy's subjugation - sure maybe he wasn't the one to consider northerners as subhumans, but this situation still happened because Adrestia conquered those lands and those people - and restoring their autonomy to those people, with, of course, the constant presence of the Church to "guide" them in the right course of action, and not start to, again, kill/pillage/burn because they're stronger and maybe find the sleeping Cethleann to vivisect her.

Of course it's ironic, because even with the Western Church, it's the Kingdom who supports and helps her and more or less adopted Willy's ideas about what a noble should be (not someone holing themselves in the capital!) when Adrestia fell apart in 7 years !

---

Willy's conquest is fascinating to me, because no matter how hard I try to spin it, there's still the issue - not tackled by the Fodlan games of course - of Nabateans and Relics : humans, during the WoH, know how to craft Relics, and what material they should use (I doubt Rhea'n'the Saints used hair dye for fun) - how do you remove this "knowledge" from humans, especially the ones following Nemesis who were depicted as greedy and power hungry?

Even if he might have had the best intentions (restore peace to the land, and support the Nabateans) Wilhelm had to deal with this issue -> which ultimately led to the "bend the knee (and remain ignorant about relics) or (possibly learn how to make relics and) die", it sucks, but it might have been the solution he found to solve this riddle.

So, in a way, given how the Empire was founded on a "bend the knee or die" as all Empires are, imo, Adrestia was bound to decline, even if I think Nabatean influence would have slowed it tremendously, and, say, made Enbarrites not consider Northeners as livestock (so maybe everyone could have coexisted "peacefully" a bit longer).

As for the people who joined Willy (thus bent the knee) -

Given how Adrestia at inception was nothing and the Empire had no Relics nor crested kickass warriors like Nemesis (sure, Seiros is a thing, but there's 1 Seiros and 4 Saints for 11 Elites and Nemesis!), I wonder if the people who joined Adrestia at first weren't joining the "weakest" horse, thus had to let go of their "might makes right" motto.

I also think the CoS helped a lot to smoothen things between conqueror and conquered - maybe by offering relief and helping rebuild the conquered lands, something that would be impossible in Nemesis' land (why the winners, aka, the strong, help the weak?) - and the Empire banked on the CoS's good PR to be more easily accepted by the people?

As for the ones who paid lip service, well, they might have existed lol, but I'd say, learning Nemesis keeps on losing (even if he is the strongest) when he's fighting someone who doesn't even have a relic (tfw people think Wilhelm is the one fighting Nemesis and not Rhea!) might have made them reconsider the Agarthan's pov and what they were really believing in - if Gods gave Nemesis'n'co their weapons, why is a loser like Wilhelm, not blessed by the same "gods", able to defeat them?

Maybe the God from the Seiros Faith is stronger than the Gods who blessed Nemesis? So the Seiros Faith is the real deal?

[the-iceni-bitch]

Hi love! I spun the wheels for your 3k celebration and here are my results :)

- one night stand/anonymous sex

- bryce langley

- i’m here to fuck your brains out

- i’m not here for small talk

- tell me why i just found them in your drawer

Ok, ok, ok. I can so see this for Bryce! And I was a little unsure how I was going to fit in the third prompt but I think I'm happy with my solution.

Straight smut and semi soft!dark (non-con panty stealing, stalking), so no minors!!!

God, you hated charity events.

If you had to listen to one more rich asshole talk your ear off about the plight of the white man you were going to jump off a balcony. The complete lack of self awareness as they wrote giant checks to help feed starving children in third world countries would have been laughable if it wasn’t so depressing.

At least there was an open bar, which you were taking full advantage of. You weren’t entirely sure how many whiskey sours you had tossed back, but you were actually laughing while some salt and pepper asshole who was definitely having a midlife crisis regaled you with stories of sailing around the world. Maybe you should slow down.

“Christ’s sake, Dick, you lying to another pretty thing about sailing to Brazil?” You felt a warm hand on the small of your back and turned to see a very pretty, younger man smirking at the dumbass who was trying to impress you. “He barely made it to South Carolina before running back with his tail between his legs.”

“Oh no!” You fully turned away from the older man with a sloppy grin, placing your hand on the new guy’s chest as you giggled. “That’s so pathetic.”

“Uh, excuse me.” Dick did not look happy with this turn of events, pouting when you glanced at him sideways.

“Go back to your disappointed wife, Dick.” The way his eyes were raking over you made you shiver, arousal flooding your panties as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“It’s Y/N.” You gasped softly when he stepped closer, his hand running up your spine until he was running his fingers through your hair. “Yours?”

“Bryce.” His lips brushed against yours and your knees buckled, your hands gripping his lapels to keep yourself upright. Yeah, you definitely should have slowed down. You had never come apart so fast for anyone in your whole, kinda slutty adult life.

“Hi Bryce.” How were you supposed to focus on anything when his mouth was tracing your jaw like that? “Um, enjoying your night so far?”

“Listen, gorgeous, I’m not here for small talk.” He pressed you even closer and leaned forward so he could murmur right in your ear. “I’m here to fuck your brains out.”

“Oh.” Your voice was upsettingly small. “Cool.”

Neither of you said anything for the next two hours. Not when he had you pinned to the wall in the corridor and devoured your mouth with his while the two of you dry humped each other. Not when he drove the two of you through the city in his Porsche at an inadvisable speed while you swallowed greedily around his cock. Not even when he ate you out like a starving man while you were sprawled across the stairs to the second level of his penthouse apartment, but that was mostly because he had shoved your panties in your mouth to gag you.

You finally made it to his bedroom and he ripped your dress down your shoulders, leaning back to let you step out of it while he worked on stripping off his tuxedo. The tiny huff you let out when he tossed you on the bed made him grin, each small wanton sound that feel from your lips only serving to make his cock ache even more. And, god, what a fantastic cock it was. You practically started drooling when he finally stepped out of his pants and you got a good look at it, it had been to dark in the car for you to really appreciate just how yummy he was.

“Wait, Bryce.” You placed a hand on his chest when he bent over you, not wanting to lose yourself in another one of his kisses before it was too late. “Condom?”

“Are you fucking serious?” He looked slightly annoyed when his eyes met yours, but you weren’t backing down from this one. “You didn’t seem to care about a condom when you were swallowing my cum an hour ago.”

“Yeah, well I can’t get pregnant from swallowing.” You murmured, trying not to moan when you felt his shaft ghost over your clit. 

“Aww, pretty thing like you isn’t on birth control?” The smirk he was giving you was absolutely wicked. “That seems awful irresponsible.”

“Bryce, ah, shit.” His mouth started tracing your throat and made it very difficult to stay firm in your stance. “I’m serious, if you don’t have a condom, I’m pulling the plug.”

“C’mon gorgeous, I just wanna feel you.” He flicked his tongue out to lap up an errant bead of sweat and grinned at the whine you let out. “What if I pull out?”

“Oh god.” You were practically suffocating from the attention he was lavishing on you, finally grabbing his hair and yanking his head up so you could look him in the eye and regain some control of the situation. “No condom, no pussy.”

“Ugh, fine!” He pouted when he rolled off you, pulling his nightstand drawer open and drawing out a small foil packet. “Happy?”

You just grinned at him when he knelt between your legs again, brushing you fingers over his nipples and running your knees up his sides while he rolled the condom over his length and scowled at you. That scowl disappeared pretty fast when he gripped your hips tight and pulled you down on his length, his eyelids fluttering as a low groan left his throat while he curled over you. 

When his hips finally met yours you dropped your head back against the mattress, locking your heels together at the small of his back and letting him nip at your throat as he started moving his hips. It was just enough to drive you crazy, but all you wanted was for him to fuck you like an animal until you were screaming.

“Goddamn it.” You dug your fingers into his scalp and yanked his face back up to yours. “I thought you said you were gonna fuck my brains out.”

The only warning you had was his feral snarl and the way his pupils dilated even further and then every thought was flying out of your head when he bent you backwards and shoved your chest into his face, his teeth digging into your soft flesh and making you scream while his hips started slamming into you violently. 

His teeth were marring the soft curves of your chest as he fucked into you viciously, the tip of his cock punching you in the cervix with each brutal shove. It barely took anything for you to come apart with a sharp cry, your vision whiting out as your entire body tightened around him. The way he was holding you to him had your body bent in a series of odd angles, making every wave of pleasure that coursed through your system feel a thousand times more intense. 

Your orgasm didn’t even faze him, his hips still pistoning into yours at a wild rhythm that pushed the breath out of your lungs until you were a panting mess. He just kept sucking and biting at your breasts, the skin of your chest slick with your sweat and his saliva as your cunt throbbed around him.

One of his hands moved under your hip and tilted you so he could somehow drive into you even further and a coil you hadn’t even realized was gathering snapped. Your body jerked frantically underneath him, your pussy clenching around him so hard he couldn’t stop himself from filling the condom with a muffled growl. 

“That good enough for you, gorgeous?” He was grinning wickedly when he lifted his face to gaze at you. “C’mon now honey, did I fuck you stupid?”

“No.” You panted, returning his smile when he moved to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. “But maybe we should go another round so you can try again.”

“Oh, I knew bringing you home was a good idea!” He called from the bathroom. “I’m gonna turn that pussy out.”

You were still smiling when you moved to grab another condom from the nightstand, your face freezing when you got a look at the pair of soiled panties that was nestled inside. That wasn’t totally weird, lot’s of guys probably kept little souvenirs from their sexual conquests. 

What was weird was that they looked an awful lot like the panties you thought your washer had eaten a few weeks ago, and when you picked them up to examine them closer you felt bile rise in your throat when you spotted the tiny rip you had told yourself no one would notice because of the pattern of the lace.

“Bryce.” You rose on unsteady legs and staggered to the bathroom, confusion and fury coursing through your veins. “I’ve been missing these for weeks, tell me why I just found them in your drawer.”

“Ah, fuck.” He only looked mildly perturbed when he got a look at what you had clutched in your fist. “Why’d you have to go snooping, baby?”

“Don’t call me baby, how did you get these?” Your chest was starting to feel tight as panic took over your system. “Have you been in my house?”

“Do you really need me to answer that, Y/N?” 

You realized you didn’t. You’d noticed weird shit happening for a few weeks. Things not being where you’d left them. Pieces of clothing missing. Weird deliveries of flowers or fancy pastries from a supposed secret admirer that you just chalked up to the slightly creepy guy who had been flirting with you at work.

“But, why?” You had never even seen Bryce before tonight, this didn’t make sense.

“I saw your photo from the save the polar bears, or whatever, event last month in the Times.” His shrug was dismissive as he started stalking towards you. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so beautiful looking so annoyed at one of those things. Mostly because they’re all hookers.” He didn’t seem to mind that you were in the middle of an anxiety attack, wrapping an arm around your waist and shushing you softly as you started to cry. “But you weren’t a hooker. You were a little spitfire. Everything I found out about you just made me want you more, which reminds me, you’re gonna need to make some serious updates to your online security settings.”

You were sobbing into his chest now, only barely registering what he was saying as he moved a hand up to run through your hair absentmindedly.

“I still remember the first time I was in your house. I admit, I lost myself a little once I was in that cute little bedroom of yours, thought for sure you were gonna notice how messed up your sheets were after I jerked off in your bed.” You cringed against him at that admission, you were pretty sure you remembered that day. “It was so hard to keep myself from just taking you right away, but I wanted to make it organic. You know, have our relationship grow and evolve the right way.” He gripped your chin and tilted your head back so he could glare into your eyes. “Then you had to go and ruin it.”

You whimpered when he suddenly lifted you and started to carry you to the bed again, your body frozen in shock. He basically threw you onto the bed, the look of rage on his face softening slightly when he watched you curl around yourself then climbed in next to you. 

“Oh, shh, it’s ok, honey.” He cooed against your hair, stroking your arm softly as you continued to cry. “I forgive you. I’m gonna make you so happy.”

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Five

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

A/N: some period-appropriate shittiness. Come get your angst, babies. 

It’s not serious.

But it is different.

It started the Tuesday after your drunk weekend when you walked down the stairs and saw him waiting in his car. When you went up to give him a wave, he reached over and opened the door.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he said. “It’s on the way.”

You almost brought up the fact that no, it was not – you had been to the embassy a few times, and it was in a completely different neighborhood than your school.

Yet, you sat down and pulled the seatbelt over you anyway.

“Can I turn the siren on?” you asked.

He shot you a look before pulling out into the street.

So, he started driving you to work. So what. Friends carpool.

And maybe you started seeing him more after work. Maybe your smoke sessions got longer, the two of you sitting outside until the sun started to really go down and he would ask if you wanted a drink or you’d ask if he had eaten dinner. Maybe it became a thing, having dinner together. It was only a few times a week though. You took turns cooking. Friends do that.  

Maybe he introduced you to his partner and your upstairs neighbor one morning, when you came down to the car and saw some blonde guy – Steve, he’d tell you - in your usual seat. Maybe Javier told him to get out and sit in the back, despite your protests that you didn’t care. Maybe you noticed the look he gave his friend after he dropped you off, once he thought you weren’t looking, as he annoyedly climbed back into shotgun. Maybe it made you blush.

And maybe, maybe, you were in his bed more. Not a ton, but more. But more. And sober. Maybe you were both just really good at fucking each other in particular, and you were just conveniently close and willing. Maybe that’s why his usually high number of female guests had dwindled. Maybe he moved his headboard away from the wall because he just felt like it, not because he was trying to be stealthier about his indiscretions. Maybe he only looked kind of guilty when you inevitably gave him shit about it during your morning commute because he finally found a conscience, the same way his hand kept finding your knee during the drives.

You still didn’t stay over, not since you had both passed out together from pills. He never asked you to again, and you never presumed. So after- even if it was midnight, three AM, 5 AM – you went back to your place. But you still knocked on the shared bedroom wall when you got back– three times, like you had joked, to let him know you were safe. And he’d yell back “Thanks”. Maybe you can’t fall asleep until you had hear him say that.

So, no.

Not serious.

But different.  

“Bullshit.” Lisa spits.

You make a face at her before taking a sip of your beer. Beside you, Maritza giggles into her hand.

The bar you’ve all met up in is crowded, and it’s hard to hear over the buzz of talk and music. Well, it would be. If it wasn’t Lisa you were talking to.

“We’re just friends,” you say. Lisa shakes her head.

“Nope. Nope. We,” she gestures around the table. “are friends. You and he are not.”

“So we’re friends who fuck-”

“Just like me and Frankie were,” Alessa cuts in before taking a sip of her own drink. You wave her off.

“You and Frankie are different-”

“Yeah, they quit playing this bullshit denial game after two weeks,” Lisa says.

“I’m not in denial. I’m being realistic.”

“Whatever, girl,” Lisa says, shaking her head and reaching forward for her beer. Then, deciding she isn’t done after all, she leans onto the table, pointing at you. “You look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care he’s still fucking other girls.”

You straighten your back and bulge your eyes open, holding her gaze. “I don’t care that he’s fucking other girls.”

Lisa nods. “You’re a shit liar.”

You let out an exasperated gasp. You turn to Maritza for back up, but she holds up her hands.

“I don’t care that he’s fucking other girls!” you practically shout.

“Even if it’s in front of you?” Alessa asks, her attention somewhere over your shoulder.

“What?”

She nods in the direction of where she’s looking. You twist in your seat to follow and see what she means: Javier’s there, in another fucking button-up, and that jacket you like, his back against the bar as he gives a smarmy smile to some hot, young girl practically pressing herself against him. He says something and she laughs, throwing her head back in an exaggerated gesture, a clear sign that she is down to fuck – probably against the bar if he’d take her.

“You care,” Lisa says from behind you. You spin back around to face her.

“What?”

“God, it’s painful at this point.” She finishes her beer and puts it down on the table. “Whose round?”

“Mine,” you lie, standing up. Maritza holds up her still full drink.

“I’m not –”

“You will be.” You say, pulling your purse off the chair. You turn back and see Lisa fixing you with a devilish smile, as Alessa politely looks away.

“I don’t care,” you reiterate.

“Mmmhmm.” Lisa says.

“I don’t. In fact,” you look around, desperately. Your eyes fall on an alright-looking guy standing at the bar. His facial hair is atrocious, and it looks like he hasn’t updated his closet in twenty years- not that that timely a fashion sense matters, considering you’ve been fucking Burt Reynold’s younger, Latino brother for the past few months. You point to him. “I’m going to fuck him tonight.”

“Him?” Maritza’s face contorts.

“She’s not going to do it,” Lisa assures her. “She’s just trying to make him jealous. I doubt she’s even coming back to the table.”

“I-”

“I get it. He’s hot.” She looks back at Javier. You try to think of something scathing to say in return, but your words fail you. Lisa notices, and she smiles that cocky smile again.

“I’ll be right back,” you huff, turning and walking pointedly towards your mark. You slow down, afraid you’re coming in too hot, and stroll up beside him.

“Excuse me,” you smile at him. He turns and considers you. God, he really is a picture of the early 1970s. His hair is down to his shoulders, brushing against the too open collar. A gold chain tangles in his showy chest hair, and you wonder if it’s too late to pick someone else. You turn and see Lisa, Alessa, and Maritza watching you. Alessa and Maritza snap their attention elsewhere, but Lisa smiles and holds up her beer – cheers.

“Excuse me,” he says. You smile and lean over the bar, sticking your ass out just a bit. You try to keep your dinner down when you feel his eyes graze over it, thinking you’re oblivious as you try and get the bartender’s attention. The poor woman is overwhelmed and doesn’t see you, too busy clearing the opposite end. Before you can help yourself, you look over to where Javier is still stood at the bar. As if sensing you, his eyes flick up and meet yours.

You give him a small wave before turning your attention back to your companion, whose eyes are still glued to your ass.

You clear your throat.

His eyes snap back up to you and he gives you a smile, and it takes everything not to grimace at the state of his teeth.

“Come here often?” you ask.

He says something in response, but you’re distracted as Javier’s conquests waltzes by you, headed for the ladies room. He keeps blathering, tells you his name, where he’s from, but you’re too focused on watching as she disappears into the crowd. You wonder if Javier’s just waiting the extra five minutes before following her in as to ward off any suspicion that he’s definitely following her in to fuck her in a toilet when you feel a familiar hand on your ass.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” you turn just in time for Javier to peck you on the lips. Beside you, your new friend’s face falls, and even though it's loud, you’re pretty sure you hear the girls at the table let out a small shriek at the turn of events. “Work was busy,” he lifts his arm and drapes it across your shoulders before nodding to the man in front of you. “Who’s this?”

“This is…uh…” you turn back and scan the man’s face for any kind of clue. He looks between you and Javier before deciding it’s his turn to speak.

“Miguel,” he answers.

“Miguel,” Javier echoes. He brings his whiskey up to his lips. “Thanks for keeping her company til I got here.”

Miguel looks back to you, waiting for an explanation, but you are completely speechless at the turn of events. Your mouth is even open, a little. A tense moment passes, and Javier’s grip on you tightens. When you don’t move to push him off, Miguel shakes his head and pushes up and off the bar, walking away. Javier settles into his place and fixes you with a smug smile before taking another sip.

“What the fuck was that?” you ask.

“Could ask you the same,” he counters. He looks you up and down. “You look nice.”

“You can’t just do that-“

“You should be thanking me,” he says. “I did you a favor.”

“Fuck you, Javier.” you snap, turning to lean on your elbows against the bar. He smiles, finishing his drink and placing it beside you as he matches your stance. You pointedly look away from him, trying to get the bartender’s attention.

“You do look nice,” he says again. You sigh and turn back towards him.

“Thanks.” You say.

He smiles and glances you up and down again. He’s about to say something when a chipper voice cuts through the noise.

“Heyyyy,” the woman from before comes up, running his hands up his back. She’s young and beautiful and wears a dress that, if you weren’t pissed off at him (if you didn’t hate her), you’d want in your closet.  

“Hey,” he turns and wraps an arm around her waist as she stands on her tiptoes and presses a long kiss on his cheek. You look up at the ceiling, trying to avoid the scene in front of you before you reach forward and grab a fistful of her aggravatingly beautiful long hair. She pulls away, a lipstick mark still on his cheek. Her smile dies, though, upon seeing you.

“Who’s this?” she wraps her arms around his arm, possessively. It makes you want to laugh.

I’m the woman he had bent over his kitchen table last night.

“My neighbor,” he says, not missing a beat.

“Oh,” she says, sizing you up. Your fist clenches beside you.

Pint-sized puta.

She turns back to Javier and pulls on his arm.

“You ready to go?” she moans.

“Just about,” he says. “Let me use the restroom, then we can go.”

“Hurry,” she smiles at him as she finally releases him from her hold. He leaves, making his way through the crowd and leaving you two alone.

She has no interest in talking to you, and you know that, but out of politeness, she turns to you with that sickly, fake kindness all mean girls possess.

“So, Javier’s neighbor?”

“…yeah,” you say, your eyes dropping from his back to her. “Next door.”

“That’s cool.” She looks over her shoulder, hoping he’d changed his mind. When he doesn’t appear, she turns back to you. “You know Javier long?”

“Oh yeah,” you nod.

“He’s great, isn’t he?”

“Oh, absolutely.” You say. “and…brave.”

She flashes you a smile. “I know.”

You clear your throat. “Yeah, I mean, most guys wouldn’t be out, trying to meet people...after a diagnosis like that.”

A flicker of concern crosses her stupid, pretty pageant-ready smile.

“Sorry?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “you know when he first got the results back, it was rough. Had him on my couch for a while, just” you bring your hand to your eyes as if to emphasize the sheer volume “bawling his eyes out. I was finally like ‘Javier, it’s not the end of the world. This isn’t America, you can get AZT so cheaply’,”

Her smile falls.

“Besides,” you shake your head. “Condoms, exist, you know? And people are really understanding if they’re decent. Like you!” you smile at her. “I told him it was just a matter of finding the right girl.”

Just before she can say anything, the bartender finally appears in front of you. Cheerfully, you rattle off your order, trying not to enjoy the smaller woman’s stunned silence beside you. When you finish and turn back, she’s staring at the floor as Javier makes his way back to you.

“Hey,” he drops his hand down her back, causing her to jump. You, in turn, give him a bright smile.

“Hey,” you say. He gives you a look but keeps his smile up. He turns back to the girl. “You ready?”

“I…yeah,” she says, pushing up from the bar. She strides forward, leaving the two of you behind.

“So nice to meet you!” you call after her. You turn back to Javier, a smug smile on your face. His face is blank, those stupid puppy dog eyes bigger under the low light.

“Your date’s getting away,” you nudge him. He looks at you and you think he’s about to say something, but pushes off the bar instead, trotting after her. Moments later, the bartender reappears with your drinks.

“What was that?” Lisa asks when you deposit the drinks on your table. True to your prediction, Maritza has long finished hers and eagerly reaches out for her second.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shake your head, taking a seat. You reach forward and take the shot you ordered before slamming it back down on the table. You let out a satisfied ahhh. “You guys want to dance?”

When you stumble in front of your door a few hours later, you don’t even look up from your keys when you hear his door open and he steps out, arms crossed and looking like such a cop.

“You think you’re clever, huh?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you look up. You nod to his open door. “How’s your girl?”

“I wouldn’t know. The second we got out of the bar she told me she had to go home,” he takes a step forward until he’s leaning against the wall. You unlock the door and stand back up straight.

“Aw, that’s a shame.” You pout.

“Uh-huh. What did you tell her?” He asks.

You bat your eyelashes. “What makes you think I told her anything?”

“Cut the bullshit. One second she’s trying to shove her hands down my pants at the bar, the next she’s getting in the first taxi that stops for her.” He purses his lips. “What did you say.”

You stand up straight, mimicking the statcure he had at the bar, his hand around your shoulder as he scared of Miguel. “ ‘I did you a favor' .”

“What?”

“Oh come on, you don’t want a girl like that, who runs off at the first sign of a health problem,”

“A health – what did you say?”

You shake your head. “I just told her it’s not a big deal, a lot of people have it, and the meds here are really cheap. Besides it’s not a death sentence, and only shitty conservatives who hate gay people-”

“Eloise- you didn’t.”

You take a step closer to him, looking up, daring him. “Are you mad? ‘Baby’?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, his nostrils flare as he frowns, letting out an exasperated huff. Before you can say anything else, he’s got his hand around your throat and his lips on yours. He’s pushing you back, through your door and slams it behind you as his hands continue to grab at you – your ass, your tits, anything. Determined, hard hands pull at the fly of your jeans, yanking them down and spinning you around to press you against your own door with a thud. Behind you, you hear the tinkle of his belt unbuckling and the shuffle off jeans against skin. As you turn to look, his hand grips the back of your head by the hair and turns you back forward forcefully. You let out a small laugh that soon turns into a moan when you feel him press against you. With a violent jerk of his hips, he’s inside of you, pressing you up against the shitty cheap wood of your door. You let out a pathetic little gasp as he pulls out and slams into you again. A hand comes up and grip syour breast through the fabric as you hear him grunt as he pumps into you again, his other hand bringing a slap down on your ass. You pray that no one – oh god, especially not Steve, he seemed so nice – is outside in the lobby right now.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he says, and you feel him hit that sensitive place inside you that causes you to clench your thighs together.

“Fair’s fair, baby,” you squeak again as the head of him hits that spot again. You bring a fist down on the door when he grabs the flesh of your ass and begins to pound into you relentlessly, harder than the two of you ever have.

“Keep-” you breathe, pressing the side of your face into the cool wood.

“Yeah?” he asks, bringing his hips to slap against your ass again. You let out a little cry as he pulls out all the way and does it again, then again. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you clench around him, earning a groan that falls from his lips. You smile despite yourself when he pulls your head back by your hair, biting your neck with his other hand wrapped around your throat.

“You gonna cum?” he asks.

“Mmmmmhmmmm,” you muster.

“Too bad,” he says, and then a second later he’s off you. Distressed, you turn around to see him tucking his erection, still wet from you, back into his pants.

“Wait- no!” you whine.

“Fair’s fair, baby.” He says, not without a smile. You shake your head.

“No- no that’s not-!” you huff. You try to think quickly, the best you can come up with is turning around and switch the deadbolt. You look back at him. He scoffs.

“You think that’s going to keep me here?”

You kick your jeans off from where they are around your ankles and pull your shirt up over your head. With a determined look, you march forward and pull at his button-up – his stupid fucking button-up – until the first two buttons fly off somewhere.

“Hey-!”

You grasp his chin and bring it down against your mouth, teeth clicking as you kiss him. The fire reignited, he spins you around, bending you over the arm of your couch. You push yourself up, sticking your ass out as he removes his shirt and pants quickly. A hand snakes up through your hair again, jerking slightly as he enters you again. You claw at the leather, as you feel your orgasm start to build again. You smile to yourself when you hear him grunt behind you. You clench yourself around him again, biting your lip when you hear him whine at the sensation.

“Fuck,” he says. He reaches forward and presses you down, face into the couch. He drops his hand down between your legs, circling you there until your thighs begin to shake.

“Ahh-!” you cry out, finally cumming around him. He follows moments later, falling on top of you with a final grunt. The two of you lie there for a moment, huffing from exertion. After about a minute, you push yourself up, urging him back. He pulls out of you and you disappear to the restroom, returning a few minutes later with your last cigarette and a blanket from your bed wrapped around your shoulders. You sit down next to him on the couch, your turn to hand him a lit cigarette. He takes it and leans back, taking a long drag as the two sit in content silence.

“What would you have said?” he asks suddenly. You turn.

“What?”

“If you thought I was sick but wanted to take you home,” he brings his cigarette to his lips again. Smiling, you move over and throw your leg over his lap, straddling him.

“Baby,” you say,  taking the cigarette from his mouth. He looks up at you expectantly as you bring it to your lips. “I would have asked what pharmacy you want me to pick your meds up from.”

—————

It’s a week later and late in the night when you hear the knock. You perk up from where you lay on your bed, reading some new, horrible paperback your mother had sent you the week earlier. Putting it to the side, you throw your legs out of bed and make for the hallway.

Your living room is dark, so you go to turn on a lamp on the end table when another knock comes, harder.

“I’m coming,” you call out. You flick the deadbolt and swing the door open to find Javi standing there.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. When he doesn’t answer, you reach forward and take his hand in yours, pulling him in. You close the door behind him before coming back around and cupping his face in your hand.

“Javier? What’s the matter? Is it Steve? Did something happen?”

For the first time, his eyes meet yours. They’re darker than you’ve ever seen them, shining like they’re threatening to overflow.

“You’re scaring me,” you say.

“There was an ambush tonight.” He says. He swallows. “A lot of guys…fuck,” he runs a hand through his hair. You squeeze the hand you’re holding. “It was information I got. Gave them. Turned out to be a setup. I sent them into a trap.” He pushes past you and sits on your couch.

You stand still, waiting for him to say something else. You have the empty, pitting feeling in your stomach, the kind that accompanies the feeling of something being so unbearable real. It’s the same feeling you got when you were pulled into the staff room months ago and informed of the fifth graders that had died in a bomb.

Helpless.

“I’d be with them- if I hadn’t-” he lets out a shaky sigh. “I should be with them. In a fucking body bag.” He brings a fist up to his mouth. “Fuck.”

You pad over, sitting beside him. You try to think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. It’s not his fault? It’s going to be okay? Who actually wants to hear that, when they’re so low?

Why say anything?

Instead, you reach to the side table and pull two cigarettes from your pack. You hold them in your mouth, lighting them, before passing him one. He takes it without looking at you, and the two of you sit there in silence. Tentatively, you rest your hand on his leg, squeezing lightly as he stares ahead, lost in his own thoughts.

When he’s let his cigarette burn down to ash, you take it from his fingers and deposit the two butts in the ashtray. You walk to the door and make sure its locked before standing before him and holding your hand out. He looks up at you, his eyes still shining and wide, and takes it. You turn the lamp off and begin to lead him back to your bedroom, moving quietly in the dark. Once you’re in your room, you begin to unbutton his shirt for him slowly, as if he may fall apart beneath your fingers. Once its open, you shuffle it off his shoulders, drawing it down his arms. You fold it and put it on the dresser before dropping to your knees and unlacing his shoes. You tap his ankle, urging him to lift his foot so you can slip them both off. Standing up again, you begin to fuss with the buckle of his belt, then his zipper, before you’ve got his pants down and around his ankles. You stand straight back up and look him in the eye before you pull your sleep shirt over your head. He lets out a sigh when you reach down and take his hand, leading him to the bed.

He allows you to set him down and pull the covers over the two of you. Reaching to the table, you turn the lamp off before reaching out to him in the dark. You guide his head to your bare chest, pulling him onto you. He clutches at your skin, his breaths against you heavy and shaking. You run your fingernails through his hair before bending forward and pressing a long, soft kiss to his crown. In response, he squeezes you tighter, burying his face into your breasts, letting out a small sob. You hold him back just as fiercely, rubbing patterns on his back until he falls asleep.

When you wake, it's still dark. You stir before you feel a gentle hand on your cheek.

“Javi-?”

“Ssh,” he says. Soft lips press against yours. There’s no urgency behind the kiss, and you relax into it and its slowness. So softly, like he’s afraid he’s going to break you, he pulls you closer to him, hands running up and down the sides of your body like he’s trying to memorize each inch of skin. Your mouth opens, letting his tongue press into you as he comes to lay atop of you. Those soft hands are tugging at your underwear, urging them down. You raise your hips to help him, and the fabric ghosts down your legs before you’re completely bare beneath him. A hand urges your legs to open, and he settles between them. You bring your hands to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair. You hold his gaze as he pushes into you, letting out a small sigh when he’s fully inside. As he begins to move his hips, he dips his mouth down and captures yours in a long kiss. When he breaks away, his grip on you tightens as you find his eyes again in what little light can make it into your room. You refuse to look away, like doing so would be tantamount to leaving him to deal with this on his own. Instead, you lift your legs and pull him closer, making his slow thrusts deeper.

It’s so slow. It’s so slow and soft and genuine and vulnerable it makes you want to cry. Instead, you bend forward and kiss him with the same gentleness, urging his mouth open. The two of you continue like this in almost silence, the only noises being the small breathy gasps exchanged. When it happens, you pull him closer as you let out a small whine as he sucks on your neck, following soon after.

The two of you lay there, breathing deeply, together. He stays inside of you, your sweaty bodies wrapped together in a tangle of limbs and warmth. He’s still holding you tightly as if he’s afraid you’re going to float away if he relaxes his grip even a bit. As if reassuring him, you bring your hand up to his back, dragging your fingertips up and down his spine as his breath evens out, and you feel him drop back into sleep, leaving you to stare up at the ceiling.

It’s…

It’s not…

You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut.

Under your fingertips, under the moonlight, you think his skin is the softest thing you’ve ever felt.

A/N: tell me your feelings 

[nicolewoo]

Yo, Jamie!!! It’s almost done.

Pairing: King Roman Reigns X Female reader

Warnings: None

My average day was a controlled chaos. Everyone wanted an audience with the king, and I had to know what issues were pressing, which nobles I could and couldn’t talk to, and a million other details. All of these things weighed on me daily. Now, with my mother and the church pressing me to take a bride, I’d reached a breaking point.

 After I had yelled at a servant for no reason, Charles the Lord of Sussex and my most trusted advisor and friend, suggested we take a few hours to go riding this morning. He’d been right, too. A few hours away from the castle and the nobles was exactly what I needed.

 We’d tried to slip out before the sun rose so we could avoid anyone, but as we prepared to leave the grounds, the Captain of the Guard saw us. Christopher was a tall lanky man with almost no hair anymore and an unfortunate habit of rubbing his face when he was nervous. Now, as he insisted that the king should not ride un-escorted, his hand brushed over his face repeatedly.

 “Your highness, we have hundreds of nobles arriving this week. I’m afraid there will be more thieves in the forest. I’ve got plenty of guards on the road, but if you’ll be avoiding the road,” he eyed me suspiciously, knowing I never stayed on the road, “I insist you take a couple of guards.”

I begrudgingly agreed but told the guards to stay far back from us unless we encountered other people.

Charles and I enjoyed a very peaceful ride, stopping once for a cleansing swim in a river and to eat some bread and cheese Charles packed. “My friend, you’ve done me a great service today.” I said as I lounged shirtless on a patch of grass soaking in the sun.

 Charles cocked his head a bit as if surprised to hear a compliment. “It’s my pleasure, sire. You needed a break.”

 “I guess we should head back.” I admitted as I stood and finished getting dressed. Charles finished a minute before me and packed up the rest of the food. Once mounted on my horse, I hesitated to leave. “I wish I could do this every day, like we did when we were kids.”

 Charles smiled at me. “You were never destined to a life of leisure, Your Highness. God chose you to be a wise and fair king who is building a greater country and a greater world.” He whistled to the guards I’d forgotten were even with us, and they mounted their horses to follow us. “Besides, you’d be miserable if you lived a quiet, boring life.” We both laughed.

 Finding a slow trot, Charles and I continued talking, mostly about Charles’s sexual conquests. As a young, unmarried titled man, he had his choice of lovers in the court, and none of them ever kept his attention for more than a few months. Knowing I’d be married off one day in a probable political move, I’d chosen to be much less adventurous. I’d enjoyed the affections of a couple of women, but I never knew if it was because they liked me or the idea of becoming a queen. Now that I was king, I was too busy, too stressed, too careful. I noticed the ladies at court. There were a couple of fetching noble women, but none that sparked anything even close to passion.

 I knew it was time to marry. I wanted to get married, but for love. Instead, women from around the world were invading my castle, and I was to meet every single one of them in a week-long quest to find a wife. Not only would my attendance be necessary at every meal and every social occasion, I was to meet each potential candidate in person and in private (with a chaperone), a task I was dreading. Meeting after meeting of women throwing themselves at my feet trying to become the next queen.

 “Are you ok, highness?” Charles’s voice broke me out of my worry.

 “Just thinking about this week.” I admitted to him.

 Charles thought for a moment before talking. “I envy you. You’ll have your choice of women. If I were you, I’d bed whichever ones I wanted. You could have a wife and mistress by the end of the week.”

 Of course, he was excited about the prospect of more women at court. “My friend, I believe you’re going to bed many of them this week.” I chuckled.

 Charles laughed with me, “Not until Your Royal Highness has ruled them out as your future queen.”

 “Well then, I’ve finally found the worth of being a king. I don’t have to accept your discarded women.” I stopped my horse at a river so both of us could drink. Charles pulled up besides us and jumped off his horse too.

 Charles’s laugh rang out over the forest. “Would that be so bad?”

 “Your prowess is well known, and I’ve seen ladies after you’ve spent an evening with them. I’d be afraid I’d disappoint.” I said.

 Charles smiled shyly. “Sire, you know whomever you choose must be pure.”

 I laughed now, “Are there any pure women anymore?”

 “On my oath sire, I’ve tried to ensure there are no virgins in this country. That’s why we are importing new virgins from other countries to meet you.” Charles teased before becoming serious. “I have a great feeling about this week, sire. I honestly think you’ll meet a fetching young bride from some exotic country that needs an alliance with us and you’ll find some measure of joy in your marriage.”

 “An alliance?” I looked down in disappointment and patted my mare on the neck reassuringly. “I’m afraid that’s all my marriage will be about.”

 “I’m telling you sire,” Charles said as he bent low to fill his water skin, “I believe you will find someone who will give you a cordial marriage.”

 “Cordial? I guess love is too much to hope for.” I hopped back on my horse.

 Charles mounted his horse too and we began a slow trot through the woods. “That’s what the mistress is for.” I knew he was jesting, but the seriousness of the whole situation fell on me again as we rode.

 Why was I forbidden to marry for love? Why was I born to be king? “Let’s speak of other things. Our ride was supposed to distract me.”

  Charles was always quick to raise my spirits. “The delegation from the Arabian Peninsula is bringing you a dozen stallions when they arrive. It’s said their horses are the best.”

At my happy expression he continued. “As soon as they arrive, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can find a few free moments to go see them.”

That sounded great. “Thank you. Not just for letting me know when the horses arrive. Thank you  for today. I needed this.” Charles gave me a respectful nod as his answer. I inhaled the forest air, trying to etch the memory of it into my mind to carry me through this busy week.

“Care to race, Your Highness?” Charles challenged. I didn’t answer but tapped my horse’s side to gallop full speed. I heard Charle’s call of “Not fair.” As I took the lead. He caught up quickly and we raced for a long while.

Realizing I was only hastening my journey back to the castle and my royal obligations, I slowed us down again and we rode in silence for a few short minutes before we heard the ping of metal hitting metal.

“Let the guards go first” Charles suggested.

Metal on metal usually meant swords, so I agreed. I motioned to the guards, and they rode ahead of us for a minute. As we neared the top of a hill, one of the guards motioned that it was safe. I looked ahead and saw a carriage with a wheel off on the King’s Road. “Let’s go help.” I said to the guards.

Peter, a thin young guard with messy hair and a patchy beard answered. “Your Highness, I can take care of this.” He motioned to the younger guard next to him. “William can protect you on the way to the castle if you’d like.”

In that carriage was surely one of my potential brides coming to the castle to meet with me. Yes, I wanted to escape, but maybe I could sneak a peek. If she was fetching, it could go a long way to easing my fears. If she was unattractive, at least I’d be prepared for my meeting with her. I trotted closer to the guard and took in the whole scene in front of me.

Not only had the wheel fallen off; it was stuck under the now emptied carriage. The ladies in waiting and an elderly man I assumed was the driver were seated on a blanket off to the side while what seemed to be the lady of the carriage tried to lift the vehicle.

She’d managed to get a small log on a rock and was trying to pry the carriage up using her body weight. It wasn’t working, but from where I was standing, I got a full view of a truly amazing bottom swaying with her efforts. I was so amused, I pondered not offering her help just to see how she’d do.

 Just as I was about to speak, she defiantly stuck her chin out and looked around my guards locking her eyes on me. “Must I ask for assistance or will it be offered?” She spit the words out like weapons.

 She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, despite the dirt all over her and hair falling out of it’s restrains and trailing down her neck. Her dress was beautiful despite the oil and dirt covering it. It was wrecked though.  

 She dabbed at some sweat on her forehead with a ragged piece of cloth and ended up smearing dirt on her face.

 Charles leaned forward a bit, “It will do you well to watch your tone in front of...”

 I interrupted, “The Lord of Sussex.” I had stolen Charles’s title, and he gaped after me in confusion. I shot him a look that convinced him to keep quiet.

 She seemed more contrite now. “My apologies, My Lord.” She curtsied a bit.

 I smiled down at her. “Think nothing of it.” I looked at Charles now. “Mister Brandon, Shall we assist this damsel in distress?”

 Charles smiled. “Yes your Lordship.” We dismounted and handed the reigns of our horses to the elderly driver.

 We made short work of lifting and replacing the wheel. After a quick survey of the road, the guards found a missing bolt. With that in place, the carriage would be fine.  

 “Why have I not seen you in court?” I asked as I held the carriage still While Charles and the guards.

 She exhaled haughtily “I’m afraid I’m not very welcome at court, nor do I care to go to court.”

 I lifted my brow “And why is that my lady?” I tried to suppress a laugh. She was so direct, so plain-spoken, unlike most of the women at court. Court could probably do well to have some women with backbones like her. It would at least make court more interesting.

  “I have an unfortunate habit of telling the truth.” I laughed hnow. Seeing that I was genuinely amused, Charles relaxed and laughed too.

 “Well now, telling the truth is a virtue, even at court.” I smiled as Charles chuckled under his breath.

 “My Lord, I’ve seen many things in court, but virtue isn’t one of them.”

I leveled her with my gaze. “Are you saying The King lacks virtue?”

 I caught a brief glimpse of annoyance in her voice.  “I said nothing of the kind!”

 “Are you saying the courtiers are without virtue?” I asked.

She blanched when she realized that as a Lord, I could be a regular at the palace. “My apologies My Lord. No. I simply meant that matters of piety are not a priority to all who attend the court.”

 I glanced over at Charles who was laughing under his breath at her stubbornness.” This is a fun game and one I didn’t want to end just yet.

 “Well, gentle lady, would 2 non-virtuous gentlemen of The King’s Court offer their assistance to a lady in distress?” I asked as I gestured to her now repaired carriage.

 “I tell you truly, sirs, that many in His Magesty’s Court would not assist, but to serve their own purposes.”

 I walked a step closer to her in a show of power, but instead of looking away, she stared me straight in the eye defiantly. “And what, pray tell, do I have to gain from helping you today?”

 “My Lord, I didn’t mean any offence to you or your friend.” She nodded to our party. “You have indeed done me a great favor today.”

 Was she finally breaking? “And what have I asked in return?”

 She smiled now. She was breathtaking when she smiled.

 @mindofasagitarius   @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire

[andrearla14]

[SPOILER ALERT] ACOSF Theory: Nesta as High Queen

On of the most recurring conversation in "A Court of Silver Flames" is that of the High King. They reference the possibility of Rhyssand and Feyre one day ruling over Phrynthia as High King and High Queen. It makes sense, Rhyssand is the most powerful out of all the High Lords, and Feyre has a bit of power from all the courts. Together, along with Nesta's made trove, and the Dread Trove, they could be unstoppable and the perfect candidates for High King and Queen.

But, here me out, what about Nesta?

Here is why I think she could be High Queen at the end of the series, with Cassian at her side.

1. Nesta's mother always refered to her as Queen. "My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen … You shall wed for conquest." Repeated again: "My Nesta, her mother had always called her, even on her deathbed, so wasted and pale from typhus. My little queen." It's very curious that this is mentioned in the same book that goes on and on about High King's.

2. Her mother isn't the only one to call her Queen though. When she visits the Prison, Lanthys says: "Come with me, Queen of Queens, and we shall return what was once lost.". He shows her a vision of her as Queen: "Nesta could see the portrait Lanthys wove into the air around them. She saw herself on a black throne, a matching crown in her unbound hair. Enormous onyx beasts—scaled, like those she’d seen on the Hewn City’s pillars—lay at the foot of the dais. Ataraxia leaned against her throne...". The whole conversation was to goad her onto his side, to show her what she was powerful enough to become, what they could be together with the Dread Trove. But it was interesting that he called her Queen of Queens.

3. She knows how to play the political game. She's cunning, ruthless. She seduced a Duke at 14, and later on in the book she seduced Eris enough that he asked for her hand after their dance. Even Rhyssand was smart enough to use her for his goals: ""Because you savor playing the game,” Rhys said. He’d undoubtedly noticed how smoothly she dealt with Helion’s attempts to flirt earlier. Rhys knew how to wield a tool at his disposal." . We see her time and time again put Tamlin, Eris and such in their place, befitting of a person that could one day rule over them. Plus, she's learning about warfare. Starting with the book The Dance of Battle that Cassian lent her ( "It was astonishing how much of the art of warfare was like the social manipulation her mother had insisted she learn: picking battlegrounds, finding allies amongst the enemies of one’s enemies … Some of it was wholly new, of course, and such a precise way of thinking that she knew she’d have to read the manuscript many times to fully grasp its lessons") and following with other similar books (" Cassian asked Nesta, “What are you reading today?” “A Brief History of the Great Sieges by Osian.” He almost stumbled a step. “Not a romance?” “I realized after you left me The Dance of Battle that there’s a great deal left for me to learn. Last night I asked the House to give me something you might read.” “Why?” Nesta tucked the book under an arm. “What’s the point in learning fighting techniques if I don’t know their true purpose and uses? You’d train me into a weapon, and I’d be just that: someone else’s weapon."). The most likely outcome of the latter is her becoming General of the Valkyries, but Kings and Queens should be knowledgeable in the art of war. A war that might be coming at the end of the series. Which leads us to the next point, why is a High King or Queen important now?

4. Why do we need a High King or Queen? Well, as Amren pointed out when discussing it with Rhyssand, Cassian and Azriel: "We are weakened—all seven courts. Even more at odds with each other and with the rest of the world since the war. If Montesere and Vallahan march on us, if Rask joins with them, we will not withstand it." . She also says: "But a land united under one king and queen, armed with such power and objects … Our enemies would hesitate.", "All seven courts united under one ruler would give us far better odds of survival in any upcoming conflict.". The reason this conversation even started was because of Nesta herself, what she created, her very own trove. ""Nesta forged a new Trove,” Cassian said, reining in his rage at the truth of Azriel’s words. “She could create anything."". Which led to Amren saying: "With these three blades, you could make yourself High King.". "You have three magic blades before you, each a kingmaker in its own right". Amren also makes the point that everything is fated, that everything is happening for a reason, :"Then explain to me why, after thousands of years, objects that once crowned and aided the old Fae have returned. The last time a High King ruled Prythian, it was with a magic sword in his hand", "Nothing is a fluke. The Cauldron’s power flows through Nesta, and could use her as a puppet without her knowledge. It wanted those weapons Made, and thus they were Made".

5. Nesta can control the Dread Trove. They answer to her, come to her. It's because she's made from the cauldron like Elain and the Queen. In theory, they should work for Elain as well which might be interesting to see in future books. But for this theory we will focus on Nesta's importance with the Dread Trove. Nesta found all the objects of the Dread Trove. First the mask: "he didn’t veer away as it shot toward her outstretched hand. It was not her power that shone ahead. The golden disk connected with her fingers, and Nesta knew what it was as she gripped it tight. Like called to like. Power to power." Then the harp, which comes to her in a vision: "There, in the center of the chamber, sat a small, golden harp. Cold leached through Nesta, clarifying her thoughts enough to realize where she stood. That the music of the priestesses had lulled her into a trance, that her own bones and the stone of the mountain surrounding her had been her scrying tools, and she had drifted to this place …", and lastly the crown which she retrieves after killing the Queen. At the end it is mentioned that:" "I got a crown of my own, don’t worry,” Nesta said, even as she knew Mor was now winnowing all three objects of the Trove back to the place Nesta had taken them from. She’d summoned them, working around Helion’s spells. No spell could ever keep them from her—Briallyn had spoken true about that." Even after the cauldron took back most of its powers, Nesta can still control the trove.

6. Nesta's Power. Nesta never learns how to control her power. And at least to me, her power still remains a big mystery. During ACOWAR she does learn from Amren a bit about how to control it, but their lessons seemed to be related to what was needed of her at the moment. Then she fought with Amren when the latter suggested she continue learning. Even through we see small bursts of her power here and there, she doesn't actively learn to use it, or the full extent of what it can do. Can it just make things, infuse them with her magic for whatever purpose she needs? Is there more than that? When she has her nightmare this is what they say about her powers:

"“Was that …” Azriel glanced to the bed and the unconscious female atop it. “That was Nesta’s true power? That silver fire?” “Only the surface of it,” Rhys whispered, hands still shaking as he ran them down his face. “Fuck.”"

"“What is her power?” Azriel asked. “Death,” Rhys whispered, hands trembling again as he got to his feet and aimed toward the window, which was now repairing itself shard by shard, as if a careful, patient hand worked upon it. He gazed at the female sleeping in the bed, and fear clouded the face of the High Lord of the Night Court. “Pure death.”"

It makes me wonder if before her bargain with the cauldron, if she was more powerful than even Rhyssand.

Later on, when she unleashes the full extent of her power: "The baying of her magic was a beast with no name. Avalanches cascaded down the cliffs in seas of glittering white. Trees bent and ruptured in the wake of the power that shattered from her. Distant seas drew back from their shores, then raced in waves toward them again. Glasses shook and shattered in Velaris, books tumbled off the shelves in Helion’s thousand libraries, and the remnants of a run-down cottage in the human lands crumbled into a pile of rubble." Like her power reached all across Prythian to her old village, to the cottage she used to live in. If you don't remember the extent of the distance between the Illyrian mountain and the mortal lands, I suggest you look it up. Later, when the cauldron takes back her power, it is mentioned multiple times that it didn't take all her power:

"Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether"

"So Cassian asked, “Is your magic … The power’s really gone?” The brisk spring wind whipped her golden-brown hair across her face. “I gave it back to the Cauldron in exchange for the knowledge of how to save them.” She swallowed. “But a little remains. I think something else—someone else—stopped the Cauldron from taking all of it""

"The Mother. The only being who would see the sacrifice Nesta had made and give a little back."

If her power was so great then, and The Mother didn't let the cauldron take away all her power...what was left? Could it be at the same level or still greater than Rhyssand's powers? Or considerably less, at the level of any other high fae?

7. The Mother.

The Mother, also known as the goddess figure of the books, helped Nests save her sister, deemed her important enough to speak to her, to help her keep some of her powers. The book even mentions a special connection: "He’d think of that another day. Along with the fact that she’d stopped Time with the Harp. And that she seemed to have some sort of connection—or understanding—with the Mother. The Mother.". Like why mention it if it wasn't going to be important later on, right?

It would be really cool that if we do see a High King and Queen it will be Nesta and Cassian instead of Rhyssand and Feyre. I think it would play interesting with the power dynamics and create conflict. Also, with the first and only High King they mention how he was betrayed by his Queen and General. Maybe history will repeat itself. Maybe Feyre will be put in a position where she has to choose between Nesta and Rhyssand and for a moment ends up taking Nesta and Cassian's side. Maybe Rhyssand tries turning Nesta into a weapon he can wield because he's scared of what could happen to his son and mate.

But Nesta herself denies ever wanting to rule the world at the end of the book.

Again, this is all just a theory I had. It might not come true. But I do hope that the next books still continue with her POV as well as newer POVs. I also hope we get to see more of her power, learn more about it.

Maybe this theory is tremendously long and nobody bothers to read it, but if you have, what do you think?

[mew-oconnor]

S with JZX & NHS

S/19: Walking to their home through a storm. Also posted on AO3.

Set during the Cloud Recesses lectures. Contains a non-graphic appearance by Nie Huaisang’s library of smutty literature.

Nie Huaisang curses under his breath as he hurries down the path, hunching his shoulders to protect his precious books from the pounding rain. Gusu summers are wet enough that the storm shouldn’t have caught him off guard, but the morning had just been so clear and warm that he’d gotten complacent, heading out to the back hill to do some private reading on the sunwarmed rocks and maybe spot a few birds. The sky had given him less than five minutes’ warning between the first clouds rolling in and the rain pouring down, which with Cloud Recesses’ meandering paths and spread out buildings, wasn’t anywhere near enough time to get back to shelter.

In Qinghe, this wouldn’t be a problem, he thinks sourly as water runs down the back of his neck, sneaking through his hair and under his robes. The Unclean Realm may sprawl, but it sprawls like a hulking beast, haunches tucked under itself, ready to spring. The largest empty spaces are the training grounds and the gardens by the main family’s quarters, and those are all bordered by roofed walkways, to shelter under when the winter snow is gusting.

There’s a pavilion coming up on his left, if he remembers correctly; maybe he can take shelter  there until the worst of the storm passes. He pushes himself into a sprint, gasping for breath as he hurtles down the path and rounds the corner—

There’s a person in the way.

Nie Huaisang wheezes as the collision knocks the wind out of him and throws him down onto the path, losing his grip on one of the books. The other person lands on top of it, but they scramble to their feet before Nie Huaisang can even get his breath back, hauling him up and dragging him bodily into the pavilion.

“Watch where you’re headed!” Jin Zixuan snaps, dumping him on one of the stone benches. There’s smudges of mud flecked across the front of his pale robes, the Sparks Amid Snow on his left shoulder stained with spots of dark brown, and the hand that isn’t locked around Nie Huaisang’s elbow is clutching the dropped book, bent open to an illustration halfway through.

“Sorry!” Nie Huaisang finally manages to catch his breath, leaning against the small table and setting down the two books that have survived his rainy mishap. “Sorry, ah, sorry, Jin-xiong, I didn’t see you there, but—you didn’t seem to see me either, right?” He lets out a nervous laugh.

Jin Zixuan huffs and rolls his eyes. “Careless,” he mutters, and then, “...are you alright? That was a rough landing.”

Nie Huaisang takes a moment to assess his body. A line of bruises is forming along the outside of his right leg, from knee to hip, and his elbow feels like he’s skinned it, but it’s nothing serious; around anyone else, he’d make a big fuss to get pampered, but there’s greater tragedies to bemoan right now. “I’m fine, but...”

He stares mournfully at his now-ruined book, crumpled and dripping in Jin Zixuan’s hand. It’s a new one, a cutsleeve volume devoted to a sordid tale of bondage and overstimulation, rare and exotic—such a shame that the pages are now likely soaked and the ink running. Jin Zixuan hasn’t seemed to realize he’s holding it yet.

Now that’s a thought; Nie Huaisang pulls out his fan to hide a smile. The sight of the haughty young master of Koi Tower holding a book of cutsleeve pornography, the clear illustrations of male pleasure spread out behind his fingers, is an amusing (and quite attractive) one, but he would like to find out if any part of the book is salvageable. “Ah... Jin-xiong... if you wouldn’t mind, could I have my book back?”

Jin Zixuan glances down at the volume—and then drops it like he’s been burned.

Nie Huaisang can’t help it; he bursts into laughter, cackling at the way Jin Zixuan stumbles back, eyes wide in shock, cheeks flushing bright red. “Why are you always carrying such things around in public?” the other boy hisses, glancing down at the offending literature once and then very determinedly looking everywhere but.

The book has, somehow, landed face up, open to the same page. If the illustrations have been damaged, then Nie Huaisang can’t tell from this distance; they’re just as easily discernable as they had been before the unfortunate rainstorm.

“Is this subject matter not to Jin-gongzi’s tastes?” he grins, reaching for his other books. “Don’t worry! This humble servant has a wide assortment of literature to satisfy all manner of desires and interests! With your arrangement over, it’s only natural to indulge your curiosity—”

He’s not expecting the hands that slam down on top of his own, pinning them (and his books) to the table. “You’re. In. Public!” the other boy bites out, his face less than three hands’ widths from Nie Huaisang’s own, and the panic brewing in his eyes makes Nie Huaisang cut his teasing short.

In the split second he has to choose a course of action, he makes note of three things. The first is that all of Jin Zixuan’s objections so far have not centered around the books themselves, but rather looking at then where other people could see. The second is that this is maybe the first time in five months of lectures that he’s seen Jin Zixuan without an entourage.

The third is that he quite likes the sensation of Jin Zixuan’s hands on his own.

“What if...” he says as the silence starts to stretch out for a litte too long, making the carefully calculated move to bite his lip a little when he pauses. It’s bait for a reaction, subtle enough to play off if it’s not appreciated, but judging by the way Jin Zixuan’s eyes flick downward, it’s working well enough. Very interesting. “Hypothetically speaking, of course, pure speculation, nothing more, but... what if we weren’t in public?”

“We?” Jin Zixuan blinks, clearly caught off guard by the implied invitation, but still letting it coax him away from his fears. To his credit, he manages to gather himself enough soldier on. “We’re still—anyone could see—”

“Yes, but what if we weren’t?” Nie Huaisang leans forward, up, peering coyly out from under his eyelashes as he brings them even closer together. His thigh protests lightly, but it’s it worth it for the way Jin Zixuan’s elegant throat works as the other boy swallows, thrown off by his proximity. “I wouldn’t tell. No one would know.”

He isn’t just talking about the books anymore.

Jin Zixuan’s grip has gone slack; Nie Huaisang easily slips one of his hands out from under the other boy’s and sets it on top—lightly, just a little pressure, a little warmth—enough to be thought-provoking. “Well?” he prompts.

Jin Zixuan glances around, making sure they’re still alone, and then lets go and takes a step back. He hesitates briefly as his boot brushes against the book still open on the floor, before bending to pick it up, carefully close it, and set it back on the table, all without looking. “You’re... wet,” he says slowly, as if he’s waiting for someone to yell at him for saying the wrong words, “and cold, and... with your low cultivation, you could easily get sick, so... it’s only right and proper for me to walk you back to your room. To make sure you get there safe. And dry. And without any more... books damaged. Right?”

Nie Huaisang beams and doesn’t even reach for his fan to hide it; he can give Jin Zixuan this much, as a reward. “That sounds perfect, Jin-xiong! Thank you, you’re so good!”

Jin Zixuan blushes again (very prettily, in Nie Huaisang’s opinion) and then steps out into the rain again, to where an umbrella has been lying discarded this whole time, sitting upside down at the spot where they’d collided. He picks it up and hurries back to the pavilion, brushing a little mud off the umbrella’s crown, and Nie Huaisang has the abrupt realization that the reason it had been left sitting there during their whole conversation is because Jin Zixuan had chosen to grab him and his book instead.

Despite the wind and his waterlogged robes, that thought makes him feel rather warm.

“Are you gonna get up, or is that beyond your level of cultivation too?” Jin Zixuan says, and then immediately grimaces, clearly regretting his words.

It’ll take a lot more to offend Nie Huaisang than that; he grins and stands, stowing his fan in his robes and gathering up his books. “How can I resist, when you ask so nicely?” he teases, just to watch Jin Zixuan blush again and look away hastily as he joins him.

The umbrella isn’t big enough for both of them, but as long as Nie Huaisang’s books are sheltered under it, he doesn’t really care. He’s already too soaked for it to make much of a difference, and his cultivation isn’t actually low enough for a little water and a stiff breeze to hurt him (no matter how often he may pretend otherwise). Still, it’s a stroke to his ego, the way Jin Zixuan lets him cling to his elbow and centers the umbrella over him, leaving one of his own arms unprotected, the mud-stained Sparks Amid Snow exposed to the pouring rain.

They don’t meet anyone on the walk, which is probably for the best, despite the part of Nie Huaisang that wants to show off just how much progress he has made on this new conquest (in just ten minutes, too!). In no time at all, they’re back to the covered walkways of Cloud Recesses’ most frequented areas, but even though the umbrella is no longer providing an excuse for closeness, Jin Zixuan doesn’t shake Nie Huaisang off, and Nie Huaisang doesn’t let go himself until they reach his rooms.

He opens the door and then pauses halfway through, pulling out his fan and tapping it to his chin as if he’d just had an idea. “Oh! It would be discourteous of me to not offer refreshments after you so kindly sheltered and guarded me on my perilous journey. Perhaps you could join me for some tea?”

Jin Zixuan doesn’t respond right away, frozen just outside, a variety of emotions flickering across his face. They’re mostly too fast for Nie Huaisang to read, but he manages to pick out a few—apprehension, nerves, and... something else, something deep-seeded, a fear he can barely see—

Oh.

Right.

This is a Jin he’s talking to. Someone who’s grown up in Koi Tower. Someone who has to deal with Jin Guangshan as a father.

“Hey,” he says, setting his fan down on the small shelf by the door, “you can say no at any time, alright? And so can I, to anything. Nothing’s gonna happen unless we both agree to it.”

Jin Zixuan slumps a little, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “Yeah, okay,” he sighs, and steps inside.

Nie Huaisang smiles, and shuts the door behind him.

[mithranqueersmusings]

5 Star Man I

Chapter: 1/3

Rating: E (Smut Warning)

Summary: Dennis has been gone for a long time, Mac misses him dearly and finds himself rooting through his old sex tapes.

Tags: Smut

Pairing: Mac/Dennis

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Mac didn't suppose he'd ever become adjusted to the newfound quietness of their apartment, or his apartment to be more accurate. Dennis leaving out of the blue like that had shocked them all, within a day or two they started to realise that it hadn't been some strange joke or scheme of some kind. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it hit Mac the hardest of all the gang. Their relationship had been complicated to say the least, never truly being defined or talked about properly, and this disappearance hadn't made things any clearer.

It was another solitary night for Mac, debating whether to actually do something productive with his evening or just slide into bed and hope for sleep to come. Most nights he'd just spent exercising, something in his mind wanted to believe that if he got into better shape somehow it would make Dennis come back. After weeks of hearing nothing, and having no way to contact Dennis after he misspelled a digit or two on the phone number he'd given to Mac, it didn't look like his best friend was ever going to return.

He was already fairly drunk, nothing too eventful was happening in the bar ever since Dennis' departure, and his head was beginning to ache. All the medication was always kept in Dennis' bedroom, Mac had questioned this a thousand times but only ever got strange and evasive answers, and even though Dennis was gone he hadn't moved any of his things around. Mac traipsed into Dennis' room, flicking on the light reluctantly and letting out a groan with the new pounding in his head. The main reason Mac thought Dennis was coming back some time soon was that he'd left all of his possessions behind; one or two things wouldn't have been suspicious but he'd left everything. Even some of his most prized possessions: his Steven Winwood CD collection, the RPG Mac had bought him for Valentine's Day and his expansive sex tape collection. The latter was definitely the most confusing, Dennis had spent years upon years creating those tapes and to leave them behind without any thought didn't sit right with Mac at all.

As he trudged over to where Dennis kept the medicine - there was so much in the drawer that Mac had never even heard of before, but he never questioned it - the tape collection caught his eye. He didn't feel like he was intruding, after all he'd sat with Dennis - and Charlie and Frank on occasion - and watched the tapes together, just like every ordinary group of guys do. Popping some pain killers into his mouth and swallowing, the dryness of his throat itched, Mac bent down and started rifling through the tapes. Even in today's world, Dennis still recorded them on VHS (something about the nostalgia of it all, he'd said), each of the title's scribbled in Sharpie alongside a star rating. Dennis took these ratings very seriously, and he rarely ever gave a girl a 5-star rating, as far as Mac knew he hadn't actually ever given one. Perhaps it was the boredom, or the alcohol, or the missing of Dennis that spurred Mac on to search through more of the tapes curiously in search for any that could boast a full rating.

Some of the names sparked memories for Mac, especially since he'd usually be in the apartment when Dennis would bring the girls home. He was careful taking them out of the box and laying them gently onto the floor, after all if Dennis did ever come back he didn't want to risk sending him off again because his tapes had gotten all smashed up. Tape after tape and not a single girl had impressed Dennis enough, which didn't surprise Mac at all, yet he continued to search as though he was somehow still connecting with Dennis through it all.

A countless number of tapes later and Mac considered giving up, he hadn't even gotten through half of them when his eyes suddenly light up; there was one! The excitement this caused Mac wasn't entirely justified, he knew that it was a little strange what he was doing, but he couldn't help it. This feeling shifted dramatically when Mac was able to bring the tape closer to read the name:

Dennis ★★★★★

Mac blinked dumbfounded. Was this some kind of strange coincidence? Surely there were no women in the world named Dennis, although Mac wasn't someone to go around judging the ridiculousness of people's names. But then what was it? Surely Dennis wouldn't have filmed one of just himself, the whole point of the tapes was to look back on his past conquests with pride, but then again he was never the most humble of people. Continuing to stare at it, Mac decided there was only one way to find out and that was to watch it.

The excitement of the whole ordeal was beginning to spread across his body, Mac told himself the erection growing in his pants was merely a side-effect of the alcohol, as he walked over to the VHS player and popped the tape in. Fumbling around for the remote desperately, Mac finally found it and settled down at the front of Dennis' untouched bed before turning the screen on.

Starting up, the video looked the same as all the other tapes with the all-too-familiar angle of the camera positioned towards the bed. Dennis was there, judging by the look of him the tape wasn't actually that old, which surprised Mac somewhat. The lighting in the room was low, a few candles lit around the space to help set a mood. Mac waited for a girl to show up as he heard Dennis saying something he couldn't quite make out, but no girl came into view. Mac shuffled uncomfortably on the bed, his pants were getting increasingly tighter, as he watched Dennis turn around to stare directly into the camera.

"Hello." He said in a low voice, one Mac had heard a thousand times before on these tapes, and even though he knew Dennis wasn't actually talking directly to him, it still felt that way.

Mac gulped as Dennis' fingers moved up to the buttons on his shirt, circling around them loosely before actually undoing them.

"I'm so glad you could join me." Dennis smirked slightly as the checked fabric slid off of his body and onto the floor fluidly "We can finally be alone together."

Mac raised an eyebrow subconsciously, this was only getting more confusing as it went on. Dennis had been known to talk to himself, even referring to himself in the third person sometimes, but making a sex tape of himself for himself was reaching a new level of narcissism, even for him. No matter how strange he thought it was, Mac couldn't deny that was completely enraptured by it and didn't think for even a second about turning it off. He'd seen Dennis naked countless times, but this felt more personal somehow, like it really was for him.

Next Dennis moved to work on his belt, slim fingers loosening the buckle and pulling the leather out until he held both ends in his hands; he gave it a quick pull and winked at the camera before tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Mac felt his mouth drying up as he eagerly watched Dennis' hands slide down to unbutton and unzip his jeans. The denim slid down his skin effortlessly, revealing that he was wearing no boxers underneath.

"You like what you see?" Dennis asked with a low chuckle, standing entirely naked in front of the camera unashamed.

Mac felt compelled to answer, as stupid as he knew that was. His own jeans were getting far too restrictive now, he had to loosen them just to relieve the pressure, that was all. Dennis took a few steps backwards then seated himself on the bed, sitting on his calves in a way which almost made him look delicate. Mac couldn't help his eyes fixating on the way Dennis' hard cock bounced as he adjusted his position. To think that Dennis was doing this on the very bed Mac was sat on now only spurred his excitement further, he idly brushed his thumb over his clothed erection and let out a quiet hiss at the much needed contact.

"God, you're so hard, aren't you?" Dennis' voice got softer as his hand slowly curled around his own erection "I think I can help with that."

"Shit..." Mac unintentionally whispered, Dennis' sultry words going straight to his cock.

"Why don't you take that hand and put it to good use?" Dennis let another quiet laugh, but his eyes were piercing "Just watch me."

Dennis began to follow his own words, slowly pumping his hand up and down his length, letting out a high-pitched moan which caused Mac to flutter his eyes shut. He wasn't exactly sure when he'd made the decision, but he'd hastily pulled out his hard cock and began touching himself too; following Dennis' rhythm closely.

"Feel good?" Dennis asked, his tongue poking out slightly to run across his top lip.

Mac found himself nodding slightly, his head was beyond hazy at this point.

"You look amazing." Dennis spoke in a whisper again as he began quickening his pace, throwing his head back gracefully as moans began to pour of his mouth.

Instantaneously, Mac followed suit and jerked himself faster, he'd awkwardly shuffled his jeans and boxers down to his ankles so that he could spread his legs more freely. His mouth was hanging open, low groans spilling uncontrollably as he watched Dennis slowly become undone. This was far from the first time he'd seen Dennis like this, but something was different this time; rather than watching Dennis dominate some random woman, instead Mac felt like he held the power this time and it was severely messing with his head. Dennis never submitted to anyone, in any situation whatsoever, so it naturally made sense that he'd only be submissive to himself. Mac knew he was never supposed to see this, that he was encroaching on Dennis' privacy, but he'd gone too far now and it felt far too good to stop.

"I feel so empty without you." Dennis moaned, his neck arched as he began thrusting into his hand "Need you to fill me up."

Mac felt himself sobering up as he watched Dennis' idle hand, that had been pressed loosely against his thigh, curl round behind him to pull his cheeks apart. His eyes widened dramatically, this certainly wasn't where he'd been expecting it to go. Mac didn't follow Dennis' actions this time, but he wasn't entirely sure why; after coming out he'd been no stranger to such activities, even though he'd never really done it himself. The sight of Dennis slowly pressing a finger into himself was incredibly mesmerising, Mac almost stopped altogether just to watch him.

"Fuck..." Dennis breathed out heavily, Mac couldn't exactly see what was going on behind him but judging from Dennis' expression he'd forced another finger inside.

Mac's hand grew more erratic and sloppy as he watched Dennis penetrate himself, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to last. Dennis' eyes had been shut tightly for a while now, the raising of his eyebrows and soft sounds falling from his lips was the only indicator of how he was feeling. A third finger was hastily inserted, Mac could only tell because of the pained expression that quickly spread across Dennis' face but it soon melted into bliss as he too started to lose control.

"So big..." Dennis groaned, beginning to ramble "You're so fucking big."

The volume of his own moans shocked Mac, he'd never really allowed himself to come undone so freely in the apartment before through fear that Dennis would hear. Thinking about Dennis not being there distracted from the blissful feeling, Mac tried to shut it out and focus entirely on the display before him, as though Dennis were truly here.

"Getting close..." Dennis gasped, Mac wasn't entirely sure how many fingers he was thrusting inside at this point, his tousled hair sticking to his forehead in places "I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna cum for you."

Mac was almost over the edge at this point, if this had been any other porno he would've let go long before this but something inside him wanted to wait until Dennis was ready too, so that they could finish together. His wrist was beginning to ache, his lip bleeding where he'd bit into it deeply without even thinking. Dennis snapped his head forwards, his eyes opening once more as he stared deep into the camera with longing eyes.

"Are you ready?" Dennis' voice wavered slightly "I want to you to cum inside... I know you're close too, I can feel your cock throbbing inside me."

Mac was at his breaking point, he'd slowed down ridiculously just to try to stretch himself a little bit further but he could feel the wave of pleasure beginning to wash over him. Before he closed his eyes, he savoured the image of Dennis so wrecked and desperate, throwing his own head back as he managed to catch Dennis' final words.

"I'm gonna fucking cum!" Dennis almost shrieked "Cum inside me, please. Give me your cum, Mac."

Before he could even fully register what had been said, Mac was already too far gone as he felt himself stuttering and his vision departing completely. For a moment or two images flashed in his mind of Dennis riding his cock, kissing him deeply as they came. Falling back lazily onto the bed, his hand and stomach sticky, Mac lay there for a few moments debating whether he'd actually heard what he thought he had. Surely not. It was just one of those strange moments, that was all. By the time he felt ready to sit back up again, the tape had finished and the TV continued to hum quietly with the screen a faded grey. One thing Mac certainly wasn't going to do was think about the fact that he'd just touched himself too to a video of his best friend fingering his own arsehole, what good would that do? Instead, he kicked off his jeans and boxers and waddled off into the bathroom to clean himself up.

At least his headache was gone now, he thought as he splashed his face with water. There was nothing better to get you ready for bed then a good orgasm, Mac smiled to himself as he slunk into his own room and fished around for a relatively clean pair of boxers to wear to bed. Since Dennis had left, his overall togetherness of life had doubtlessly decreased, but as long as he never descended to Charlie and Frank's level, Mac didn't see what the problem was. He threw off his shirt into a corner of the room and was able to clamber into bed before he heard a sound: the front door opening. Mac scoffed and rolled his eyes, it wasn't unlike the gang to barge in so late at night but he certainly wasn't in the mood for it right now. He debated pretending to be asleep, but it didn't take long for him to realise that it would've been pointless. Letting out a huff, he stomped over to his bedroom door and threw it open, sticking his head out in anticipation of finding some strange events unfolding in his living room, but instead the gang wasn't there at all.

"Hey, buddy!" A voice called out excitedly, it was Dennis.

Mac was flabbergasted, still grasping onto the doorknob as he stared at Dennis in alarm.

"You alright? Didn't give you a scare, did I?" Dennis asked with a grin, he'd thrown his keys onto the coffee table like everything was normal.

"Dennis?" Mac finally asked, taking a couple of steps into the living room to get a better look at him (was he dreaming again?) "What are you doing here?"

Dennis let out a hearty laugh "What am I doing in my apartment? Well, living, for a start." He gave Mac a confused look before turning to face his room "You been in here?"

Mac felt his heart sink, granted he probably should've cleaned up in there - at least turned the light off - but Dennis was the last person he'd expected to see tonight.

"Uh..." Mac hurried over to Dennis who was walking back into his room casually "No, no I-"

"Oh... I see." Dennis tutted sarcastically "Been going through my tapes, again? Can't really blame you, there's some pretty good stuff on these. So who'd you go for? Brittany, Ellie? Ooh, what about Stacey, that one's a classic!"

Mac began to panic, his brain could hardly think of a coherent thought let alone figure out some kind of excuse. This had to be a dream, a nightmare would be more accurate, as he watched Dennis eject the tape from the player and hold the VHS in his hand.

Silence.

Dennis stared at the tape, all the joy that had been on his face wiped away in an instant as Mac stood there feeling his face heating up in complete and utter shame. After what felt like a lifetime, Dennis finally looked back up to Mac and though he was trying to mask what he was truly feeling, Mac could see right through it.

"You watched this?" Dennis asked, his voice had gone cold.

Mac's eyebrows knitted together, he began biting his lip again nervously "Dennis, look-"

Dennis' eyes began to scan around the room, fixating on the bed which was ruffled and dirtied "You touched yourself, to this?"

If only he could wake up from whatever hell this was. Mac scrambled for something to say, anything, but when he opened his mouth nothing came out. Dennis' face shifted again, the anger melting away into something softer yet still somewhat sinister.

"What did you think?" Dennis began to smirk, the exact same one Mac had seen on the tape.

[youseethingsandyouknow]

Decided to build out a story and I’m very excited to see where this goes. This was inspired by my artist friend, msshoe’s art. Please go check out their art on Twitter!

A brief synopsis is that this is an AU where Kakarot, a member of the ruthless Saiyan team is on the run but has no direction on what he wants to do. I hope you enjoy it, I’ll try to post regularly but no promises. Comment, like and reblog below.

Wayward

“Here ya go” The bartender said as he put the drink down at the table before the wild haired Saiyan. The short glass filled with brown liquor was surrounded by empty glasses and burnt cigarette butts. The Saiyan grabbed the glass and took a hearty sip before slamming it on the table in front of him.

“Easy there, Kakarot. If you break my table again, I’ll have to kick you out for the night. The boss was pissed after I let you off last time.”

Rolling his eyes, Kakarot reached in his armor for another cigarette. He placed the butt lightly in his mouth, and it delicately hung on his lips. These Earthlings were so uptight and nervous all the time, they took the fun out of everything. But, he was grateful for the lack of attention this planet had. Kakarot needed to lay low and figure out his next move, and hiding out on a planet full of weaklings was the perfect place to do so.

He glared up at his acquaintance and responded, “Now, where’s the fun in that, Yamcha.”

“I’m serious, Kakarot. I can’t lose this job.”

“Yah, yah fine. Just make sure the drinks don’t stop, and maybe I’ll try not to break your table.”

Yamcha rolled his eyes and walked away, revealing a stunning beauty behind him who sat at the bar. Well, she’s new Kakarot thought.

Her long black hair was shiny and had a slight wave to it as it rested on the small of her back. Although Kakarot could only see her profile, he knew she was leagues above most of the women in this joint. Damn, she was something else he noted as he leaned back against the plush booth behind him. Briefly, he turned away to finally light his cigarette. Looking up again as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from his body, the woman at the bar made eye contact with him and it took a brief moment before she smirked back at him, her eyes sparkling in flirtation.

Most people would turn away out of embarrassment or from being uncomfortable, but Kakarot intensified his look, refusing to be the first one to look away. Finally, she turned away but Kakarot kept his stare, examining her features. She wore tight, ripped black pants and from what he could tell, some sort of armor, leather jacket placed lightly over her shoulders. She turned again, and caught his gaze once more. He kept his eye contact with her bright, brown eyes, blowing out another cloud of smoke. Kakarot was just about to beckon her over when a voice slurred to his right.

“Ka-Kakarot, you got any spar-re chain for me.”

“Roshi, you’re drunk. Get out of my face.” Kakarot waved off the drunk old man and Roshi laughed as he stumbled back to the tables behind Kakarot. Sighing in annoyance, Goku turned back in his booth and was surprised by the new visitor sitting next to him.

“You looked like you could use a friend.” She smirked and Kakarot chuckled before answering.

“What makes you think I need a friend.”

“So the long, smoldering looks you were giving me earlier, what was that then?” She teased and Kakarot couldn’t help but slightly smile as he admitted she had a point.

Putting down his cigarette to reach for his drink, he took a long sip, needing the liquid courage now more than ever. Unlike his other conquests in his past, who were dumb and easy, the woman in front of him had a fire about her that made him want to figure her out more, as well as take her home. He had to play this right if he’d be accomplishing that goal tonight. After finishing his sip, he turned back and answered.

“Well, you’ve got a point. I guess I am looking for a bit of company tonight.”

She smiled and leaned closer to him before requesting, “Can I snag one of your cigarettes. I’ve been dying for one all night.”

Turning to his armour, Kakarot pulled out a cigarette and handed it to her. She put the butt in her mouth and said flirtatiously.

“Mind giving me a light?”

Kakarot grabbed his lighter as she moved closer and he lit the front of the cigarette. Smiling, she inhaled and then exhaled the smoke lightly in his face. All Kakarot could think was that she was insanely attractive. Not just physically, but her personality and forwardness really did something to him.

Putting his arm over the top of the booth to lean closer to her, Kakarot asked, “So, what brings you into a dive like this.”

“I could ask you the same thing, Saiyan.”

Surprised, Kakarot frowned, “How’d you know I was a Saiyan?”

“Please, it’s so obvious. You might have been able to fool everyone else here but I’ve been around. Although the lack of tail does make it a little harder to tell.” She lightly tapped her cigarette on the ash holder in front of them and asked “How’d you lose it anyway?”

Trying not to discuss a rather painful memory, especially right now, Kakarot quickly changed subjects.

“What are you drinking? I need another.”

“Bourbon, neat.” She replied and Kakarot waved Yamcha over for another round.

“Two bourbons.”

Yamcha nodded and Kakarot turned his attention back on the mystery woman in front of him. She was searching around the bar a bit anxiously so Kakarot took this opportunity to study her a little better without acting like a creep, which he would have been if he did so earlier. She wore light eye makeup, which accentuated her features. Under her jacket, she also wore a tight, burnt orange shell that really displayed her chest. Kakarot didn’t mind gazing at her chest before she could notice that he was staring too long. As she turned back to face him, Kakarot quickly glanced up and she smiled.

“So, what are you doing at a place like this then?”

Kakarot waved a finger with a grin, “I asked that first.”

Rolling her eyes, she moved in closer to Kakarot in the booth as Yamcha sat down their drinks. Leaning over him, her lips dangerously close to Kakarot’s, she grabbed her glass and sipped before leaning back.

“Just here to have some fun. How about you?”

Kakarot could respond that he was currently on the run from the rest of his team. He could tell her that he’s been coming to this bar for the last month and was bored out of his mind. He would even tell her that he feels like he is adrift and has no direction in his life and doesn’t know what to do with it at the moment, but that would be too much to tell a stranger. Even if she made him feel like he could tell her those things. Grunting, Kakarot grabbed his drink and chugged it. After finishing, he then slammed the glass on the table and a distant groan from Yamcha could be heard behind them. He needed that drink to get those weak, pointless thoughts out of his head.

“Yah, something like that.”

He could tell that she was studying him and he didn’t mind. Hopefully, she liked what she saw as well.

The door opening caught both of their attention, and Kakarot glanced up to see two space cops walking over to the bartender.

“Shit.” The woman cursed next to him.

“Wait, wha-?” Kakarot tried to ask but his question was interrupted by her urgent lips on his. Initially, he was taken off guard and his body froze. But, as she moved close to him and bent her head to cover them with her hair, Kakarot took the lead and eagerly wrapped an arm around her, deepening the kiss. He then ran his hand up and grabbed a fistful of hair, smiling a little against her lips. The kiss intensified and she lightly moaned against his lips, and it took everything in his power not to run to a bathroom stall and take her right then and there.

Abruptly, she broke the kiss and peered over his shoulder, noticing the cops as they went towards the back to the bathroom stalls. Leaning back, she smiled and placed a hand on his chest.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave. This has been...very fun.” She blushed slightly and slid carefully out of the booth.

Confused, Kakarot reached up and lightly grabbed her waist, “Wait, where are you going? We were in the middle of something he-.”

SLAM

Suddenly, Kakarot found his cheek forced hard against the table, and his arm pulled painfully behind his back.

“Listen, you’re lucky that I like you, or we’d be having a much different discussion. But next time you touch me like that, I won’t be as nice. Got it?”

He must be crazy or maybe it was the booze, but this was insanely attractive to him.

“Can I at least get your name?” Kakarot mumbled against the table.

She surveyed the bar before letting his arm go. Grabbing a fistful of his wild hair, she brought Kakarot’s face off the table. She then leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“It’s Chi-Chi, but call me Chi.”

“Kakarot.” Kakarot replied painfully, his cheek still throbbing from his face slamming on the table.

A small peck on his cheek relieved Kakarot momentarily of the pain and then he was released from her hold, his face landing hard on the table again. Lifting his head with a groan, he saw the shocked bar patrons staring at him. Kakarot rubbed his cheek and cursed under his breath, angry that he had his guard down so much that someone was able to get the jump on him. Suddenly, the cops came bursting out of the back, running outside and screaming to each other.

“She’s getting away, move!”

Sirens and lights flickered against the windows of the bars and after a brief moment of silence, everyone eventually got back to their business. Kakarot was very confused about what just transpired but moreover, he was curious at who Chi was and why she was wanted by the space cops.

Deciding he should probably get some air, and needing to calm down from the anger welling up in his chest from his embarrassment, Kakarot walked out front and dug into his armor for more cigarettes.

“Are they gone?” A voice called out from above him. Looking up, Kakarot found Chi standing on the roof.

Grunting, he replied, “Yah but how’d you avoid them? They seemed to be hot on your trail for a moment there.”

Jumping down, Chi landed and stood up. She casually shrugged and continued, “Eh, I’ve been at this for a long time. They were rookies.”

Kakarot couldn’t help but smile and he took another hit of his cigarette.This girl was different than any woman he’s met before.

Chi walked over the hoverbike rack and pulled out bike. She hopped on and flipped her hair, gazing at the road in front of her. Kakarot nodded towards the bike.

“Nice ride.” Chi turned back to him and replied.

“Thanks, it's not mine.”

Again, Kakarot couldn’t contain his chuckle and she smiled back with bright eyes before saying, “Put some ice on that cheek. Would be a shame to have a gorgeous face like yours bruise.”

“Thanks for the concern, but I’ve been through worse.”

This time, she scoffed and started the engine.

“I’ll see you around, Kakarot. Don’t miss me too much.” She winked before revving the engine and jetting off, leaving him alone outside the bar in silence.

Kakarot was still a little pissed and annoyed that he wasn’t bringing her back to his place tonight, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t mind the view of her leaving. She looked good on that bike, and it only made her even more attractive to Kakarot. He will have to keep his eye out for her for now on. They had unfinished business.

Moments later, the door opened, Yamcha walked out and whistled.

“Dude, what a night huh?” Yamcha said and Kakarot grunted. “Those cops really wanted to find that girl you were sitting with. They asked the bartender if they knew of her, which he didn’t until she made a break for it. Apparently, she’s an infamous arms dealer. Wanted by the Galactic Space Patrol for a bunch of crimes. I didn’t even know space cops existed so she have done something to get that attention. Especially since she’s from here.”

An Earthling who’s an arms dealer huh? Wait! Kakarot thought. Tensing, Kakarot quickly went to his armour to look for the map he kept in the same spot at all times to see if it was still there. Feeling his empty pocket, he growled. His hunch was right, she stole it from him.

Shit, she was good. Kakarot thought. She must have been scouting out people to take advantage of all night, and Kakarot was her latest victim. Now he has even more of a reason to find her, and he might not be so welcoming the next time he sees her. Kakarot needed that map, his life depended on it, so not getting it back as not an option. Little did Chi know, he was pretty good at tracking people down, especially someone who has something he wants.

Thinking about the exciting proposition ahead, Kakarot thought to himself.

I’ll definitely be seeing you again, Chi-Chi.

[obeydontstray]

I Want More (A Maxwell Lord X OFC rp)

0(A Maxwell Lord (Pedro Pascal - Patty Jenkins universe) rp between myself and my girlfriend @historianwithaheart ) Can be found under the same name on AO3)

Maxwell sat at his desk, getting his first breather of the day. He looked around for his son. Being the first month of summer, Alistair was spending time at the office with him, but the kid was not in his office where he left him. Max hit the button on his desk and spoke. "Hey Britney, did Alistair leave me any messages of where he was going? Did you see him?"

“No sir I thought he was with you.” In Melony’s office she sat typing away. The little black haired boy munched on his carrots and drank the soda she had gotten for him. She didn’t know who this little boy belonged to but he had stolen her heart. “Like the new Mario Alister?” She asked him. He smiled.

“My daddy is so busy most of the time so it’s nice to come hang out.”

It wasn't uncommon for Alistair to take walks around the offices. Max always made sure he had a piece of money so he could buy anything he wanted from the cafeteria, vending machines, or gift shop downstairs. But he wasn't usually gone this long. It had been....an hour? Maxwell began to get nervous.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you McDonald’s this time but I figure that you shouldn’t be eating junk every time we visit.” She felt her heart ache when he smiled at her. “I get bored so it’s nice to come sit with you.” Alistair smiled. “Well I think I’m gonna have my Lunch break soon if you want a player two?” He nodded.

Maxwell walked through the office hurriedly, asking random people if they had seen the small boy with black hair and dark eyes.

“Did you tell your daddy where you were going?” She asked typing on her desk top. Ali stair nodded. “Left a note.” She smiled at him. “Good boy.”

Someone stopped Max. "I saw a kid go that way, down the hall." He thanked the person and began opening doors.

“Hey kid, have some water okay? Only one soda!” She handed him a water bottle. She sighed. One week late for the meeting. Wonderful.

The door flung open and a head appeared. One with dark blonde hair, handsome features, and dark eyes. "Alistair!" He said, stepping in the door and reaching out his arms.

“Hey daddy!” Melony nearly choked on her drink. “Well Mr. Lord you’re only a week and three hours late to our meeting.” She stood.

He hugged Alistair and quickly stood, straightening out his clothes with his hands and suddenly turning on the biggest smile. "I'm sorry, you are?" God she was beautiful! She had shoulder length blonde hair and the biggest, bluest eyes he had ever seen. Her ruby red lips were perfectly shaped.

“You new head of financials Mr. Lord.” Ali stair smiled. “She’s my friend!” Alistair said. “Look she brought me stuff to play with.”

Maxwell scanned the room. A few scattered toys, food wrappers still out, and a a Nintendo. "So this is where you have been disappearing to."

“She’s nice, and she bought me a Nintendo and she was gonna play with me on her lunch break.” Alistair said. “ if your daddy says you can we can still do that.” Melony smiled. “Melony Morningstar, Head of your financial division. We were supposed to have a meeting one week and three hours ago.”

Maxwell sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Shit, yeah you're right. Sorry, things have been so busy."

Alistair went and hugged around Melony’s thigh. She pet his hair. “Well unfortunately for you my schedule is full up until next Wednesday at two. We’re diversifying your portfolio Mr. Lord.”

"My, you are a busy busy woman. Could we meet now?"

“Well I have a very important meeting coming up, with a top partner.” She winked at Alistair and he smiled. “Can I have another soda?” He asked drinking the Mountain Dew.

"How many have you had?" Maxwell asked. "Your mom's gonna kill me for letting you drink too many."

“He’s only had one! I let him have one when he visits.” Melony said. Alistair leaned against her shoulder. “Mommy doesn’t let me have anything, she’s too busy with her new boyfriend.”

Maxwell frowned. "That's okay, you'll always get attention from me." He promised. "If it's okay with Mrs. Morningstar, you can have another."

“Miss.” Melony corrected. “I’m a Miss and I think you’ve had enough. Don't want to send you home to Daddy and have you bouncing off the walls.”

"How considerate." Max smiled warmly. "Miss Morningstar is right. How about some water, or juice?"

“I gave him water a few minutes ago.” She blushed. “Well I guess you better go little buddy. I think the jig is up.” She ruffled his hair. “If you want you can take the NES system home. That’s up to your daddy. I..I can’t make that decision.”

He nodded. "If she doesn't mind your visits, that's fine. You can keep it here and I'll get you one for your room at home too."

“Alright little man you should probably head to lunch with your pops.” She smiled at the boy. “As for you Mr. Lord, seems you're as irresponsible with your child as you are your money. I’d like to know why you just couldn’t make our meeting a week ago.”

"I'm not irresponsible!" He said, a little flash defiance in his voice before he ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. "He usually makes quick trips to the gift shop or cafeteria and back up. I didn't expect him to start touring people's offices. And I apologize, my only free time lately has been in the late afternoon. No business like show business, ya know."

“Mmm. No worries, little man and I keep each other company!” She smiled. “Oh yes far too busy. Then I guess it will have to be a business dinner then. Tonight at 6 your choice though perhaps a nice place to sit outside. The office is stifling.”

His eyebrow raised and a lopsided smile shown on his face. "Really? Tonight huh? How does Thai sound?"

“Fantastic. It’s my favorite. I’ll see you at six.” She penciled in her planner. “You best be there Mr. Lord, I am your new head of finances you hired me for a reason. And it wasn’t because I’m pretty, because you weren’t even there to look at me.”

"And I regret that deeply." He said, giving her a very obvious look over. "I'll meet you there." He said, laying his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Come on baby, let's go."

She waved at Alistair. She sat down and smiled to herself. She had just strong armed the most powerful man in this company. Not taking his his excuses. Alistair walks with Max. “You’re not mad at me daddy, she’s really nice and she plays video games with me sometimes. She says that if you were smart you’d start investing in Nintendo.”

He grinned. "Well I'll have to think on that. No buddy, I'm not mad at you. She's a very nice lady."

“Are you gonna date her?” Alistair asked. “She’s pretty, really pretty almost prettier than Momma.”

"No no, this is just a business meeting." He assured him, even if he had different things in mind. "She is really pretty, isn't she?"

“She looks like that Disney princess, Aurora.” Alistair said. “She sings pretty too.” He said. “Can I still hang out with her?”

"Sure thing buddy." He said, ruffling the boy's dark hair. "When did you hear her sing?"

“Well one day when you were super busy, and I got bored I went exploring and I got really lost, and she found me. I was crying a lot because I was scared. She picked me up and she sang a song to me to help me stop crying because I was scared.” Alistair told him.

He lay his hand on his son's shoulder and bent down to his level before pulling him in for a hug. "I'm so sorry you were lost and scared. I'll thank her tonight for caring for you."

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it to happen.” Alistair hugged him. “Just be nice to her okay?” Soon five o'clock came and Melony went home to change into a sweet little blue floral patterned summer dress. Cuban stockings, blue pumps. She did up her hair and spritzed her perfume. She picked up the phone as she put on her pink lipstick.

Maxwell looked himself over in the mirror. He wore a sunset yellow blazer with white slacks and a pastel orange shirt. His white loafers were shined and he pushed up his sleeves to his elbows. His hair was perfectly coiffed and he was cleanly shaven. He picked up his Polo cologne and sprayed it on. "Daddy, if it's not a date then why are you dressing up?" Alistair asked. "Dress for success, buddy. When you're a business man, you have to always look your best. This is a meeting, it's just outside the office so I'm dressing different." The phone rung and caught his attention. He lifted a finger at Alistair. "Hold that thought."

“Good evening Mr. Lord, Raquel said this was your home number. I’m honored.” Melony laughed.

"And who said you could call me at home?" He said in a flirty tone. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

“Well Mr. Lord by proxy of not specifying which Thai restaurant in DC you have hence forth invited me to call you at home.” She spoke. She heard the flirtatious tone in his voice. She felt a zap of desire run down her spine. Oh Melony, don’t you know any better. She thought to herself.

“Precisely. I’ll see you there soon.” She smiled over the receiver. “Oh and come prepared to work Mr. Lord. I’m not one of your office floosies.”

He smiled broadly and chuckled. "Work for what?"

“Honestly you think you’re so charming. Work work. Like portfolios and the future of your company, I’m sure you enjoy being able to spoil your little conquests. In order to keep doing that my darling Mr. Lord you need to be wise about the market.”

He grinned even harder. "I could have you fired for speaking to me like that, you know." He tested.

“Then I guess you wouldn't have a company much longer Mr. Lord. I will see you in a bit. Tell my little buddy that next time he wants to come play he brings me a snack okay?” She smiled.

"Okay I will. See you soon." He hung up and Alistair looked up at him with a worried look. "You would fire her?" "No! No!" He assured his son. How could he explain himself without telling him he was flirting? "I was testing her! It's hard to explain, you'll understand when you're older. But she passed. And she said when you go see her again you can bring the snacks."

Alistair smiled. “Okay!” He happily went to to go get ready for the babysitter. Melony was sitting at a table overlooking the river into a forest. She checked her watch, her legs crossed as she skimmed through a book and sipped a beer.

"Daddy, can I dress up next time I go see her?" Alistair asked. "Sure buddy." Soon Max had dropped off his son and strolled into the restaurant looking for her.

She sat there. Looking much different from before, more soft and feminine. She checked her watch again, when she heard whispers. Ah he's here. She thought to herself.

Women stared at him as he walked past, a handsome grin on his face and he shot random women flirty winks. His bright gold watch and rings flashed in the low light of the restaurant. "Miss Morningstar, nice to see you again." He greeted before took off his jacket and draped it on the back of his chair before he sat down.

“It nice to finally capture your attention for a moment or two.” She smiled at him. It was a flirtatious smile. She couldn’t help it.

"I'm a man in demand." He said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “Indeed.” She grabbed her brief case. “Okay so you started in oil but how long before that goes dry, you need to diversify.”

"Alistair said you told him I should invest in Nintendo." He chuckled. "What about that little computer company? Apple is it?"

“I think that’s a solid bet, personal gaming systems, personal computers, making it individual is going to be big.” She continued. “Your oil company is a great start, it really is, and your other investments are doing well but we need to be able to have more than one leg to stand on, what are the big draws? Entertainment, technology and of course oil and trade.” She handed him a large book. See.”

He flipped through the books pages quickly. "Hmmmm, I see." His lips were pressed together in a goofy shape, making him look as if he was only half considering the things he was looking at.

She looked at him, she knew that look. He's only half considering it. She bit her lip and let her anger simmer. “Sir, I’m trying to be diplomatic but do you think I’m a joke? I’ve spent hours doing the job you’ve hired me to do, and then you can’t be bothered to see me at our planned meeting and then you come here and half ass your considerations.”

"What? I'm thinking!" He said, his warm brown eyes flicking upwards and locking with hers.

“If you say so.” She sipped her beer. “I apologize, this is important to me.”

He nodded and looked her in the eyes again. "And it shows, I apologize if I'm not demonstrating my interest. I'm just a little distracted, but here, let me take another look."

She sighed. “It is kind of late and if I’m being honest Mr. Lord. I’m tired.” She spoke. “At least I have you thinking.”

He nodded. "Yes it is late. I'm sorry we got off to a rocky start, but I really enjoyed your company tonight." He said with an earnest face.

“Well I guess at the very least you can continue to enjoy my company. I wouldn’t protest.” She said to him sipping a beer. I mean our first meeting was supposed to be just a get to know your employee type deal, but your company took a big chance on me and I..I just don’t want to fail.”

"I'm really glad whoever made the decision did. I uh-I'm not as involved in the hiring process as I should be. But I would like to get to know you more. And if it's okay, can I borrow this book? I'll review it in the morning with fresh eyes and a clear mind."

“Don’t you eat breakfast with your son?” She asked him. “And what we’re you distracted by.” She handed him the book.

"I do. I'll look it over again after I get to work." He looked up at her again. "Who wouldn't be distracted by someone like you."

She scoffed. “Honestly, Mr. Lord, I hate to sound pretentious but, again, I’m not one of your office floosies.” She looked at him. God, his eyes were so sincere. “But I have a feeling you know that.” She handed him his beer.

He nodded and took his beer before taking a sip. "I know you're not like them. I don't pay attention to them. But you..."

“But what about me Mr. Lord?” She smiled at him. She moved a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're authoritative and commanding and just...beautiful. You fill up the whole room with your presence."

She felt her face betray her emotions flushing pink. Clearly not the rouge one her cheeks. “Mr. Lord, I..”

"And my son told me what you did for him when he was lost and alone. And that, I'll forever be grateful to you for."

She was really blushing now. “Oh it’s nothing, anyone would have done that. I honestly thought maybe he was like a receptionists son, or something I didn’t know he was yours, but I...I can’t stand to hear a child cry. Especially...a sweet little boy like that.”

Maxwell's eyes moved to his empty plate. "I never thought of him getting lost like that and getting scared. I trusted him to just go to one of two places and back. I never thought of him getting lost. It broke my heart when he told me what that was like. But, he told me he thinks you are like Princess Aurora."

“Mr. Lord, if I could be so bold.” She said to him and took his hand. “He never blamed you, and he loves you dearly.” She said to him. “I just heard him cry and I just wanted to help. But you’re a good father.”

He nodded. "I try. I only get him on weekends right now and I try to set aside time to be with him, just one on one, but it's so hard to make time in the business."

“He sees you try. I’m sure.” She realized that she was holding his hand and blushed. “I..I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand away and chugged her beer.

“This is inappropriate and I’m sorry. I should go.” She went to stand.

He reached out and lay his hand on hers. "No, no please. Don't leave. We're just getting to know each other."

She felt her heart leap up into her throat. The story playing out in her bright blue eyes. The felt it, the attention, but her mind raced. What would he do with her when he was done. He could see it, she was sure. She sat back down. “I guess then maybe I should tell you more.” She didn’t take her hand away.

"Yes, tell me everything." He said, curling his fingers so that his hand wrapped around hers.

She felt her breath hitch. Her mind racing. “I...I..” she stammered. This seemed like a hazy dream. This man, the man who ran the most successful company right now, and her. Little old her. She wasn’t worth his time. “My name is Melony, I’m twenty eight, I have masters degree in finances and law. I...I like nature, and art and archaeology. I..I’m single. Have been for a while. Because being woman, having feelings gets you no where in this big business world. I’m witty and intelligent. Some men call me frigid or a bitch but I call it getting by.”

"You don't not seem those bad things to me. And I'm Maxwell Lord as you know. I'm divorced. You know Alistair. I'm 35. We have similar tastes."

“And I’m being incredibly stupid right now. Letting you know these things about me. Letting my guard down.” She confessed. “I should have Just kept it business.” She felt the room grow hotter. “This is how a woman gets a reputation.”

"How? Just by talking to me?" He asked, confusion sparking on his face.

“By letting my guard down around you.” She said to him. “Maxwell Lord, the infamous business man, being seen with his head of finances, a young woman.” She searched his face. “I guess one of my poor traits is I’m obsessed with my image.”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "We can keep our meetings strictly business and in office, Miss Morningstar."

“I suppose, but you’re still holding my hand Mr. Lord.” She breathed out.

He drew back his hand slowly. "Well, I guess I should let you go. I'll see you at work Monday afternoon to give you a decision." He said as he stood and grabbed the book.

“Mr. Lord.” She reached out for him. “Don’t.” She looked at him. “I, am just scared. I haven’t, I haven’t let myself be vulnerable in a while. You astound me. Have since I first saw you on tv, have since I applied to work for you. Your company gave me the opportunity to do more than fall into the darkness that was waiting to take me. You’ve set the annals of my heart alive with flames once again. Forgive me if I am a guarded woman.”

He looked down at her with the softest expression before he sat down again. "Really? You'd use such beautiful words for me?"

“Perhaps you need a little beauty and honesty in your life.” She replied.

He reached out and took her hand once again and his thumb smoothed across her knuckles. "Maybe you could be the sunlight in my life, then."

“Mr. Lord, I...I don’t know about all of that, but I think perhaps maybe for a little while we could make each other realize that the sun still shines.” She paused. Not knowing what to do next.

"Call me Max, please." He looked at his watch. "It's getting late, I shouldn't keep you. The babysitter will be ready to go home soon, it's after Alistair's bedtime."

“What if...I want to be kept. Max.” She looked up at him and stood. “Maybe it’s the beer or maybe it’s just your touch, and maybe it’s just my personality but I feel brave.”

"I'd love to stay but I have to be home by midnight. Unless..."

She stood and moved closer to him she took his hand and placed her lips on his in a slow sensual kiss. But her shaking body betrayed her confidence.

He moved to hold her cheeks gently in both hands and kissed her again. "Then come home with me."

“You don’t have to ask twice.” She replied. Thank god they were at a secluded table.

"Come with me, let's take a taxi."

[literary-spirit]

"I'm sorry we couldn't offer you little more comfort while residing with us." Genuineness threaded itself through Torvi words as she watched while Bonnie settled herself behind Hali underneath the furs of unknown heritage.

A gratitude inspired smile made a conquest of Bonnie's lips. "No need for apologies, Torvi. Fact is, I'm grateful that you've allowed me somewhere safe to lay my head. Especially with everything being so new and unfamiliar."

Truth be sold rather than told, Bonnie didn't understand one damn thing about her predicament. One moment she lay bleeding out in her fiancé's arms in 21st century New Orleans, and the next she lay sprawled on Bjorn's ship during the freaking Viking Era. After some thought she'd begun to believe herself to be on the other side she'd created for Enzo, but there was a few sizable holes in that working theory. One, Enzo didn't hail from the ninth century so why would she tailor the world he'd spend his afterlife in after it? Two, she'd had the displeasure of being dead stranded on the other side a time or two and neither time did the imitation of life after death explode with a passion that could only be rivaled by reality.

No, Bjorn, Ivar, and Kattegat was real. It was all real! But on everything and everyone she loved she couldn't understand why. What did her giving up her mortality to become the immortal witch and finally embrace the prophecy have to do with this particular place in time?

"Bonsie?" The dulcet cadence of Guthrum's voice snatched her away from her thoughts. "Can you tell us a saga about your land?"

He and Hali stared up at her. The gleam of excitement tinkled bright in both of their eyes. She faked a sigh and played at reluctance with a roll of the eyes, all the while a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth for freedom. "Are you sure? Because you and Hali look really tired," she began tickling Hali who squealed and squirmed to get away, "And I don't wanna start one of my dull stories only to bore you both to sleep."

"Please!" They both squeaked in unison. "You have our vow we won't slumber before the end of your tale. Right Hali?" The blonde cherub face child with eyes just like his father nodded.

"Alright, but the vow I want from you is, that if slumber comes for you or Hali while I'm telling you the story you won't fight it," she said, her gaze moving from one boy to the other. "That's the only way I'm going to speak of this saga. I won't waste words on tired ears."

The boys stared at each other for a moment, before Guthrum looked back at her, "If our slumber takes us before the conclusion, will you continue when we rise?"

"Maybe not when we rise. You know, because we'll have to break our fast and I'm sure there'll be chores needing to be done-"

"There will definitely be chores needing to be done," Torvi confirmed as she watched from the bed.

Bonnie shrugged, tapping her chin while staring up at the ceiling of the keep. Her eyes flared as if the proverbial light bulb had erupted into a thousand ideas, "I know! If you fall asleep before the saga is finished, then I'll continue it tomorrow before we go to bed."

Guthrum looked to Hali, who nodded his head, "You have our vow, Bonsie."

"Okay," she held up her pinky. They stared at her finger for a moment then gawked at her as if she'd open a third eye on her forehead, "Well if you're giving me your vow boys, I'ma need a pinky swear to consummate your sworn oath."

"How do you perform such a ritual?" Guthrum asked, cuddling in closer.

"Hold up your little finger just like this." She wiggled her pinky. Once Guthrum and Hali raised their fingers, she entwined both of her pinkies with theirs, tugged and pulled away. "And just like that we have consummated our oath with a pinky swear."

"So, what of the saga?" Guthrum questioned.

"It's a story that takes place in a land where my ancestors once thrived. A continent called Africa," she began, "There a wise lion king was blessed with a cub who too would one day be king of everything the light touched in that land."

For the next thirty minutes or so Bonnie retold the story of the Lion King. By the time she reached the part about Scar throwing Mufasa off the cliff into the surge of stampeding antelope she noticed the boys had fallen asleep. Lowering her voice, she allowed her words to trail off, to avoid awakening the kids.

"Ack! Why'd you stop?!" Bjorn snapped. "Did Mufasa find a way to save himself so that he could exact revenge over his treacherous brother?"

"And what of poor Simba?" Torvi grilled, "What will become of him now?"

Bonnie's brows collided. She hadn't realized that they had even gave her a benefit of an ear let alone hung on to every word of the story. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you guys were paying attention."

"Why wouldn't we attend you, Bonnie?" Bjorn shot her one more unit before settling back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. "Are we not sharing the same space?"

"Bjorn," Torvi lightly scolded, cuddling down next to him.

"It's okay, Torvi," she said, rolling away to face the wall, "Bjorn's right. I'm wrong for not considering you both may wanna hear the ending of the story, but even if I wanted to finish it my sacred oath with the boys wouldn't allow me to continue until next eve. So, have a good night's rest and I'll see you both in the morning."

Bonnie allowed her eyes to close and not much later she dosed until squeaks, moans, and grunts ripped her from the verge of a deep sleep. Confused about why the hell she was on the floor instead of in Klaus' Californian King, her eyes darted around and then finally collided with a folded up Torvi getting piled drove by Bjorn.

When Torvi noticed her watching, she blushed and attempted to stifle another moan, "Apologies, Bonnie. We didn't mean to wake you with our coupling."

"It's fine," she said, not knowing what the hell else to say. It's not like she could go in about them banging one out in their own keep. Bjorn's lava hot blues bore into her, while he began to grind slow circles into Torvi. Bonnie attempted to clear her throat, but only managed a super dehydrated cough, "P-please c-continue—I-I mean if that's what you both wanna do. Not that I'm gonna keep watching or anything."

"Would you like to join us?" Torvi offered between gasps and moans. "Bjorn's vigor is insatiable. He would have no issues pleasuring you as well."

"T-That's not necessary!" Bonnie flopped back over on her side to face away from them, "You two enjoy, I'm good." She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to ignore the snickers coming from the bed as she willed herself to go back to sleep.

****

After daggmal what Bjorn called breakfast, Sigurd offered to be her guide while she explored the forest. They spent almost half the day trekking through the woods gathering recipes she would need for hygienic purposes and basic spells. For the first half of their outing, Sigurd merely helped and watched her without saying anything. When she'd had enough of him side-eying the hell out of her she spun on him without warning and he almost ran her down.

"What's wrong with you? Why do you keep watching me like I'm gonna turn you into horse shit or something?" She snapped.

His eyes flared, and he took a step back. "Can you?"

"Sigurd!" Bonnie stared at him for a moment like he'd left his mind back at Kattegat, before whirling around to continue her descend down to the cove. "Why did you come if you're so scared of me?" She tossed over her shoulder.

"Because I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and I was hoping to plow you," he replied, following behind her.

"Men," she mumbled to herself. Then she raised her voice loud enough for him to hear. "So, I guess Ivar's telling anyone who will listen I'm a witch, huh?"

"Ivar?" He questioned as if he didn't know how one thing had to do with the other. "No, what's he to do with anything? It's Margrethe."

Bonnie stopped once more to turn and look up at him. "Margrethe? You mean the poor servant girl you all pass around like a waste bucket?"

"We don't pass her around and she says when you appeared out of air the gods let their displeasure be known by sending a storm to upset the sea," he walked closer, plucked the basket from her hands, intertwined their arms and guided her towards the cove. "She also said that the storm only went away when she mentioned throwing you over."

"You do understand Margrethe is madder than a bag of cats tossed in a barrel of water, right? Anything that comes out of her mouth is nothing more than rantings of the certifiable," she said, filing Margrethe away for a later day's problem.

Sigurd laughed. "Your turn of phrases are cutting. I've noticed that you wield your words the way Hvitserk swings an ax."

"Runs in the family," she said, distracted by the splashing she heard coming from the cove. "Shh," she stopped, halting Sigurd along with her, "someone's down there."

Stunned disbelief flared his eyes and dropped his jaw, "Really? Well, we should go-,"

"Yeah," her head bobbed in utter agreement, more than ready to turn around, "we should."

"And cut down the trespassers!" He finished.

"Wait, what?"

Without even a notion of a warning, he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and ran down the rest of the way to the cove. Once they cleared the woods and stepped into the enclosure of the inlet, he strode into the water with her. She caught an upside-down glimpse of Ivar sitting on the bank, while Ubbe and Hvitserk chased each other around in the water with long skinny sticks.

"Brother, what took you so long?" Hvitserk snickered as he bent sideways to stare her in the face.

Sigurd smacked her on the bottom. "This one wanted to pick every smelly flower in the forest."

"Sigurd, take me back on dry land," she said, pounding him in the middle of his back with her fists, "So help me, if you fuck around and drop me in this water and my hair gets wet, it's gonna be hell to tell the captain. And just in case you haven't figured it out I'm the motherfucking captain!"

"What's she going on about?" Ivar called from the bank.

Sigurd laughed, "She wants to swim."

Then he tossed her into the biting chill of the water. She emerged sputtering water and spitting mad. Their laughter only served to piss her off more. Hatemakers shot from her eyes like hollow points leaving the barrel of a glock. When she finally had Sigurd locked and loaded in her sights, she treaded water like she had an engine shoved up her crack and Bobby Boucher'ed his ass so hard he hurtled through the air. He smacked the water harder than Angela did Marcus, and he went under. Now it was her turn to laugh and do the fool she did. Ubbe and Hvitserk gawked at her as if she'd sprouted wings and a tail.

Sigurd clawed his way back to the surface gasping and coughing. "Who in the name of Odin taught you how to swim, Thor?"

The sound of laughter and clapping floated from the bank. Bonnie turned to see Ivar's incandescent methane orbs flashing hella bright. Yet somehow the brilliance of his smile rivaled even the bewitching dazzle of his eyes. He'd baited and hooked her without even casting the lure. Now the unexplainable pull between them would reel her in. Pushing the mass of dripping curls from her face, she began to walk toward the shore.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hvitserk whispered next to her ear, before scooping her off her feet, "You've a lesson to learn."

"Oh, Hvitserk, you just better bring it!" She yelled as she bucked and squirmed in his grasp, "That goes for your sisters too."

With that said he dunked her in the water, when she reemerged Ubbe had a hold of her, "Many apologies, my lady. You were saying?" He questioned, regarding her with eyes the same shade as a cloudless sky.

She gave him a closed lip smile, and then slapped her cheeks, allowing all of the water in her mouth to spray him in the face. When he released her, she dove under the surface, grabbed him by the ankles and snatched him off his feet, literally. Then she went after Hvitserk next. Anticipating an attack, he and Sigurd took on a defense stance. So, they planned to make this a joint effort. She gave herself a mental nod, noted. Tired of playing around, she hiked her skirts up just beneath the curve of her ass and knotted it high on her hip. Sigurd and Hvitserk exchanged a smirk. Not wasting a second she struck. First, she climbed, and then wrapped herself around Sigurd. In a maneuver reminiscent of the Black Widow, she used his body weight and gravity against him. Once more he soared through the air.

She turned to Hvitserk and he gave her the smile which let her know he thirst for blood and the rush. Yep, she'd saved the most savage for last. Leaping on him, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He automatically grabbed a fist full of ass. Sexual lust overpowered his blood lust. Big mistake. She snapped backwards in a back bend, the memento snatched him off his feet and he went free falling face first into some rather high-quality H2O.

While the brothers attempted to figure out which step led to their downfall, Bonnie left the water to find Bjorn standing on the bank. His look of indifference remained true to the inner workings of his mind.

"You move well," he said as he reached down to place one hand on a bare hip and the other on the knot that secured her skirt. In a swift tug he released the drenched material. "I've never seen anyone fight that way or toss about men twice their size."

A memory of Bjorn giving Torvi the business end of some serious wood flashed at the forefront of Bonnie's mind. Unable to maintain eye contact, she dropped her gaze to the ground, "It's nothing. We were just messing around; I'd hoped to learn how to manage one of their sticks." Ivar snickered and that's when she realized how it sounded. "You know...for fishing." She added to be Visine clear.

"If you're to learn to manage anyone's stick, it'll be mine," Bjorn stepped closer and crowded her personal space.

The heat which came off of him reminded her of the predicament she now found herself. She was drenched and it had to be every bit of fifty-eight degrees out and dropping. The boys came trudging out the water behind her.

Ubbe walked up on her until the hard press of his chest collided with her back. One of his hands moved to grip her neck, while the other rose to lay possessively across her belly. He lowered his mouth next to her ear, "The gods were with you this day, Valkyrie. Yet, we'll see what the morrow brings." He then released her and moved around her to sit next to Ivar.

"You think yourself clever with that trick in the water, do you?" Sigurd asked, while tugging one of her curls as he passed. "Well, I know a few tricks too and mine are sure to put you on your back as well." With his gaze still locked on her, he dropped down on the other side of Ubbe.

Hvitserk spun her around to face him. "One detail," he snatched her skirts up around her hips and lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. A sliver of space remaining between them provoked him to tug her closer until her naked sex pressed firmly against his bare lower abdomen muscles. On contact, the sinewy tissue flexed against her clit and try as she might, she couldn't stop the groan that burst from her lips. His eyes rolled closed, and gasps of air rushed from his mouth as he rested his forehead on hers. "I had to be certain." After a moment he allowed her body to slip from his.

"Of what?" She questioned, slightly swaying as she shifted her skirts back in place.

"I was home," he said, before stealing a kiss and darting away.

Something a breath away from recognition flared within her. She pressed to fingers to her lips to help preserve the feel and weight of Hvitserk's mouth on hers. Where the hell did she know his kiss?

Bjorn shot his younger siblings hell bred units. "Come, Bonnie. It's almost time for second meal and Queen Aslaug would like for us to attend her in the great hall...again." She didn't miss the annoyance which saturated his again.

"Alright, let me just grab my basket," she strode to pick up the wicker carrier and the world turned upside down.

Then it overturned and became consumed by Ivar's sculpted to perfection features. When she'd sacrificed her better judgement and walked too closed to him, he'd snatched her off her feet by an ankle. Once down on his turf, he'd flipped her over and yanked her to him like a virgin slated for sacrifice. Now he loomed over her larger than life. She'd played herself by forgetting he was the one to watch. The most dangerous of them all.

"I can see in your eyes you know your error is grave," he spoke to her in that soft accented tone that all ways fucked over her senses. "Next time you will not dismiss me so effortlessly because you believe me to be at a disadvantage, hmm?"

The sheer beauty of him outshined the ever-radiant torch she still carried for Niklaus. And Ivar the Boneless was right there! Right there in front of her! If ever there was a pass to be given for one indiscretion in a relationship, surely this was the time. Ignoring all the legitimate reasons as to why she shouldn't, she reached up and ran the pad of her index finger over one smooth brow. The perfectly arched hair felt silky to the touch.

Stunned, he stared down at her, confusion bunching those very brows while slightly parting those luscious lips. Her gaze flicked to the bottom one. It drew her thumb like a super magnet attracted to a pile of scrap metal. First contact almost made her swallow her tongue. Nothing could've prepared her for such fleshy softness. You'd think his lips had never known a day without Carmex. Damn, she had to know what it felt like to have his mouth on hers! Cupping her other hand around the nape of his neck, she used the hold to guide his lips towards hers even as she arched upwards to meet him halfway.

"Ivar, we have spoken much on you remaining free of mischief," Bjorn said, yanking Ivar off of her and plopping him back down on the plot of grass next to Ubbe.

Bonnie climbed to her feet, dusting herself off as she went. For a moment, their she'd almost pulled a damn Elena. Acting first and thinking never. Difference was she didn't have a scrappy side-chick running to have her back when she wrote a check her ass wasn't equipped to cash out. No! She needed to stay focused and figure out why the hell an immortal witch spell brought her all the way back to the Viking era. And it wasn't even the real Viking era. She was trapped in a television series loosely tailored after a raider who lived over a thousand years ago.

"Thanks for helping me today, Sigurd," She said, while allowing Bjorn to take her hand. "It would've taken me longer to locate the things I needed without you.

"You're welcome to my help whenever you have need of it," He said, grinning up at her.

Bonnie nodded then looked to the other brothers. "Ubbe, Hvitserk...Ivar," she held Ivar's gaze a moment longer than called for, before continuing, "thank you for being superb stress relievers." She wound her shoulders in counterclockwise circles as she cocked her head from one side to the other until she heard the pop. "Didn't realize how backed up I was until you guys worked me out a little."

"Then you should prepare yourself," Ubbe said, giving her a sideways glance, "for stress will no longer be a worry of yours." His bottomless cobalt glare, glanced down the length of her body before returning back to her face. Hvitserk and Sigurd snorted.

She held his gaze until Bjorn guided her from the enclosure of the cove back into the woods. Once out of his and Ivar's soul disturbing stare, she exhaled. For the next several minutes, she and Bjorn walked back to Kattegat in silence. After fiddling with the handle of the basket, attempting to work up the nerve to find something to say, Bjorn spoke first.

"I spoke with Floki today and he told me the fleet I commissioned won't be ready to sail until next Spring," he said, bending to pick up a stick from the path, "which is just as well, since Torvi is carrying again. I've already sent a messenger to King Harald."

"Wait," she stopped mid-step, "Torvi's pregnant?"

He walked a little further before he realized she'd halted. Once he did, he turned back to face her, his expression unreadable as ever. "Yes."

"C-congratulations, Asa's gonna be beautiful," she said, without thinking. Her mind to set on the fact she was adrift somewhere between season 4 part 1 and 2. How the hell would she navigate over the course of the year without knowing what happens from one moment to the next?

Bjorn cradled her face in his hands. "Are you saying this babe will be a girl?"

Damn! Well, the cat has left the bag. She nodded and a brilliant smile that could put the sun out of business blossomed on his face. His joy even provoked the corners of her mouth to travel north. "I'm very much proud to have boys, but after what happened to my first child...Siggy, it is my belief that by blessing me with a girl this time, the gods have shown me favor."

The blend of his happiness and vulnerability disarmed her defenses. She leapt into his arms, hugging him tight to her. The best her lack of height would allow anyway. All she wanted was to give him the comfort and support he'd shown her since her world went bat-shit. Bjorn, however, must've misread into things, because he had her pinned to the nearest tree attempting to raise her skirts.

He pressed kisses into the side of her neck as he worked to hike up her skirts and wrap her legs around him at the same time. "My man stand has nigh burst awaiting consent to plow you." He grind an oversized bulge into her bare center, and she squealed, not sure whether it was in delight or protest.

"Bjorn, I'm so sorry," she gritted through clenched teeth. Not trusting what would come flying out of her mouth if she opened it fully. "I didn't mean to lead you on. I'm a hugger." She babbled. "I only meant to offer you a hug of friendship."

He stilled and leaned away to peer down at her with a scrunched red face. "What?" Backing away, he let her feet drop to the ground. "Who in the name of the All-Father offers passionate embraces as a form of friendship?"

"Look, Bjorn," she lifted her chin, ready to no means no, his ass. "I'm sorry if you misread things, but you're married-,"

"Misread?!" His eyes nearly leapt from their sockets as he snorted his disbelief. "And what of all the lusty ways I notice you watching me when you think I don't see?"

She lied with a straight face. "You're mistaken."

"I'm not mistaken," he backed her into the same tree, "just last eve your eyes pleaded with me-,"

"And that's another thing," she said, cutting him off. "Don't take this wrong, because I'm grateful for you and Torvi's kindness, but when can we start on the restoration of Rollo's house?"

He stared at her a moment without saying anything. "We can begin soon after we finish daggmal on the morrow." Her head bobbed, and then she moved to step around him. He grabbed her arm to halt her movements. "Are you leaving my keep because I chose to lay with my wife?"

Her eyes bucked and she shook her head until she thought it would fly off her neck, "Of course not. I'm leaving because you both deserve privacy and not some stranger interrupting your lives."

"You're not a stranger, Mystical One," he rested his forehead on hers, "we're bonded by the oath we swore. You and I are a part of each other until one of us enters Valhalla."

[warriorssurvivalandstuff]

Thinking about a non-bender Zuko AU that changes things up for the Fire Nation by a lot, Zuko is the one majorly altered to start a butterfly effect here but I haven’t written that much about him, actually. Full text with musings under cut.

Summary: Ozai yeets Zuko out of the palace, family, succession as he was a non-bender. Ursa manages to keep him somewhere relatively safe but they are still separated. Azula no longer has a punching bag that always distracts her mother from her and instead receives the blunt of the consequences from Ozai’s little show to usurp the throne, she is to capture the Avatar, a dangerous, time-consuming, and generally seen as impossible feat. Vehemently trained by her father and accompanied by her mother, the princess sets out on her mission. During so, she meets many faces, the Avatar, some old friends, and a mysterious figure wielding swords who seemed to defend both the Avatar’s team and her.

Major events/points:

Ozai casts Zuko out

Ursa finds somewhere to keep him safe, but cannot keep him close

Zuko is raised outside Ozai’s influence

Iroh goes to look after him after Lu Ten’s death

Zuko fully relies on his swordsmanship, trains under Piandao still with word from Iroh

Would join Aang probably due to Iroh

Azula is basically an only child

She has most of both Ursa and Ozai’s attention

Ursa is still troubled and kinda distant but is still significantly closer to Azula than canon

Ozai is always subtly distancing the two however

Azula is more learnt on compassion and empathy, but really it’s mostly just soft manipulation compared to always using fear

There would be genuine friendship with Mai and Ty Lee however I imagine

So Ozai makes his move to replace Iroh and Azulon orders to sacrifice Azula

Azula hears it and confides in Ursa, who is reminded of Zuko

Ursa confronts Ozai, simmering with all the repressed ferocity 

Ozai wouldn’t do anything permanent to Azula of course, she’s too valuable

He proposes to have Azula sent on some dangerous mission

Azulon sets the mission as hunting the Avatar, who had been missing for nearly a hundred years and is very able curbstomp a child even if found

Ozai manages to bargain for training time for Azula before the mission

Ursa all but demands to go with her

She can’t firebend iirc and Azulon is punishing Ozai so he allows it, believing she won’t make much of a difference

Ozai isn’t too happy but having Ursa to look after Azula would be favourable to her survival

He does make it clear to not try anything and makes it his task to tell Azula

Ozai and takes over Azula’s training for the period and his grooming intensifies, her time spent with Ursa is taken over by training

After some time, Azula and Ursa set off on their hunt 

Some time into the hunt, Zuko would get involved

He would probably not fit into any side initially and only show as the Blue Spirit

He is against the capture of the Avatar but will not let harm come to Ursa and Azula

Possible for Mai and Ty Lee to join her after Azulon’s death 

I do not have the motivation to get further.

First, Ozai makes good of his word and has him out. Ursa manages to keep him somewhere away, but safe, either secretly or not, Ozai would probably find out some time anyway. However I think as he sees Zuko as absolutely nothing, nothing immediate is done. He makes sure Ursa knows what he can do and uses the knowledge to threaten and blackmail her. She is kept in the palace to separate them and Zuko is raised by some old friends.

I don't know when or how non-firebenders can be determined with high certainty especially with pressure from Ozai so Zuko might fully remember or have hazy memories of his past, though clearly remembers his mother. The two scenarios would lead to rather different development for him so I won't comment too much, but I believe he would have been rather young when casted out and he would not have as much influence from Ozai as canon so act kinder from the start. At some point Iroh might get involved after losing Lu Ten, though it wouldn’t be direct, maybe through Piandao and White Lotus. Zuko would still pick up sword fighting and hone it even more without the ability to bend.

Back at the palace, Azula is now an only child. There's no competing for affections but Ursa is troubled and still distant with her daughter, not that Ozai want her too close to his prodigy child anyway. With that said, I do think Ursa would still manage to have observably more influence on Azula than canon. That or there's no one so heavily antagonised by Ozai like Zuko always being around, Ursa may fall somewhere close but canon Azula does have an attachment when really young to her mother, don't think it could be severed that easily. 

Most important part is when Ozai makes his move after Lu Ten dies, Azulon would have ordered to sacrifice Azula instead. Ozai had indeed casted his actual firstborn away but Azula excelled both mentally and physically, referred to as a true prodigy and so cannot be compared to Zuko’s case. Azula still eavesdropped and learns of the Firelord’s order, she knew no matter how much Ozai took pride in her abilities, he could not defy the Firelord. She sought comfort from Ursa and she is reminded of what happened to Zuko, then determined to protect Azula from harm. She is aware that Ozai might save his own skin over anyone, including his prodigy daughter and prepares to confront Ozai on the matter.

Ozai expected her and states that he values Azula upon her entrance, stopping the worst case scenario Ursa thought of. She skips to enquire him on any plan he has for Azulon’s order and Ozai’s reply was to have Azula in a situation the Firelord could take as as good as gone, which he suggests to be some sort of grand mission. [On the alternate options of Agni Kai and assassination, I feel Ozai would’ve gone for Agni Kai to challenge Azulon if he could, though he was bent on making Zuko’s life hell, being commanded to kill his own child and just taking it seems kinda weak. With an Agni Kai victory he might as well claim the throne as well. Assassination was suggested by Ursa in canon, which was a rather desperate option she resorted to with about only herself unwilling to let harm come to Zuko. We don’t really know if Ozai had considered that, wouldn’t put it past him to consider it before Ursa barges in with a hand. So it could be similar to canon and the two have Azulon dead, just Ozai would be the one to raise it most likely... But that’s boring and I need to have someone go after Gaang, I doubt Ozai/Iroh has any reason to chuck Zuko off to find the Avatar or that he would try to capture the Avatar himself.] Ursa contemplates the plan and their other options, then makes a condition that she would travel along Azula should the Firelord accept the proposal. Ozai tries to brush her off and talk her out but Ursa wouldn’t back down and makes points on how she would be useful. At last, Ursa is triumphant and Ozai decides that he would mould Azula before the long time that she’ll have to spend away, when Ursa is sure to sow her own beliefs on their daughter and he would not be able to tell Azula otherwise, Azulon would make sure they are to have minimal contact.

Azula would most likely hear the discussion as well, I haven’t thought up if this would cause much impact, she would probably make some suggestions to improve it if she could. Unsure if she has a strong enough opinion on Ursa coming along to talk about it.

Ozai and Ursa presents the proposal to Azulon the next day with the most convincing tone he could muster, Azula is to be sent on a mission away from the Fire Nation with the company of Ursa, with some time allowed for training prior. Lu Ten had died in battle, and there’s no reason to just throw someone skilled like Azula away for nothing, she could do to help Fire Nation’s conquest. Azulon accepts and states his conditions, he would set the goal, only a minimal crew as company, Ozai is not to communicate with her during the mission, training is to be overseen by Azulon etc. He had expected similar requirements and does not object, then Azulon drops the bomb by setting the goal as capturing the Avatar. [I don’t really know much about Azulon so I didn’t complicate things on his end. Avatar hunt is basically a wild goose chase, disappeared for about a hundred years with no hint of location and expected to be extremely dangerous, perfect for getting rid of someone.] The prince and princess had expected something along those lines, but still tensed at the impossibility of what the Firelord set. Regardless, they had got what they bargained for, and Ozai prepares Azula for ramped up training.

Azula is a quick learner and has talent, but Ozai and Azulon’s training is enough to burn even her out in just a few sessions. She is pushed to her limits, expected to master multiple forms simultaneously at quadruple normal speed for one. Ozai is already tough on Azula and does not shy away from potential non-permanent injuries, but Azulon seems like he’s straight up going to murder her at times. [Something like this: Lightning 101, after they tell her about conjuring lightning, Azulon charges up a lightning bolt and just fires at her general direction without warning, then Ozai interrupts it with a bolt of his own. Azula is then expected to know to counter it at the next blast.] Training also shortened the time she was to spend with Ursa beforehand, which he fully took advantage of, emphasising strength and power. When Ursa did not seem increasingly impressed by her quickly widened set of moves, Ozai would tell her to ignore her mother, not to seek from her and continue training with him. [Ursa does praise her, but kinda repetitive in wording... and she isn’t familiar with bending forms to notice new things. I can’t describe it clearly but to Azula, it seemed like she was saying for the sake of it, and more words just made it feel smothering.] Azula soon gains her signature blue flames and lightningbending, but also grew apart from her mother and closer to Ozai. 

Training allowance passed, Azula with Ursa is sent away on her hunt. I have not thought about basically anything that would transpire with her hunting Aang in place of Zuko and with Ursa instead of Iroh to temper her dedication to the throwaway quest. Ursa doesn’t consider the possibility of actually finding the Avatar and awaits for Azulon’s day but Azula does ponder it and genuinely looks for information. [Ursa would have picked up some extra skills to help with the hunt, mostly for defence, on top of herbalist knowledge. It would be funny if they come upon Aang right when Azulon dies. Ozai sends them the note that they can return and he instead gets their report of having found the Avatar. Though for storytelling, it might be better that he does so after the events of season 1. Unsure if Iroh would ascend to the throne in Ozai’s place in canon, he would probably stop the war then and there, and Ozai might challenge him and take the throne anyway.] No particular points of interest come to mind as this gets to the start of the show. Azula would no doubt be more effective and ruthless, and the Zhao rivalry that happened with Zuko would not happen, but something else.

Back to Zuko, he would first make appearance as the Blue Spirit [not definitely the same chronological events] then be revealed to Ursa later down the line. He would start on the Avatar’s side but be held back once he recognises Ursa. Afterwards he would probably harbour some resentment for his situation and confront her one day. Ursa tells him the whole story with an apology and Zuko tries to convince her to drop the Avatar mission. Ursa thinks it’s unlikely for Azula to change her mind but does what she can.

No clue what happens next.

[ghostdummieideas]

A Grave Mistake 2/?

Part 2 to the Goore series. Thank you Raine and Birdy for Beta reading this chapter!

When you woke up the next morning, you thought the whole cemetery fiasco was a nightmare. Just a silly dream that your brain created to show your anxiety for the recent job. Your eyes scanned to the electric alarm clock on your nightstand: 8:45 AM. First, you need to get a cup of coffee in your system. Second of all, you need to get your reading assignment done today. With a stretch across the bed, you stand up to start your day.  As you stride across the hall, your eyes land on something crumpled in a dirty heap by the entrance of the apartment.

The conquest for coffee was pushed aside as you approached the foreign object. You crouched down and picked up what looked to be a ratty old coat with faded lettering on the back. The remnant of letters read, ‘Woodland Cemetery’. The cemetery. Last night wasn’t a dream. You ran before you finished your first shift.

The thought of the consequences for doing so sent a shiver down your back. In the midst of the chase, the security office never crossed your mind as an option for a sanctuary. Jacket in hand, you scramble through the flat to find your phone. You had two notifications: one missed call and one voicemail, both from your boss. Knowing that you can’t hide from your mistake forever, you have to do the right thing. Gritting your teeth, you unlock the screen to listen to the voicemail.

The old man’s voice crackled on the speaker, “Hey kid, we need to talk. Call me when you’re available”. 

You bopped your phone against your forehead and whined in dismay. “I fucked up. I fucked up, and he’s going to say I’m fired.”

Taking a couple of concentrated breaths, you press ‘call back’, and place the phone against your ear. You hoped the old man would be asleep or busy doing whatever he does in his free time. Your silent prayers were ignored as you heard the familiar blip of the phone being answered. “Hello? Who is this?” your boss’s garbled voice came through.

“Hi boss. I’m so sorry about last night’s shift. I can explain!” Feeling your throat tighten from nervousness, you take a deep breath. When you were ready to explain the corpse man, you stopped. You can’t say that, you’d sound like a lunatic. ‘I ran into this bloody man and he chased me during my shift’ would sound like a sorry excuse that a teenager would use to explain why their homework is missing. “A racoon frightened me and the office didn’t cross my mind when I was running. I’m so sorry.”

The line was silent for a second before a sigh broke the silence. “I saw you running in the camera feed. Look, don’t run off during your shift again. Do you plan on going tonight?”

The question left you stunned. Do you want to come back to the cemetery? He’s not going to fire you for running off. Before you can think, you answered, “Yes, I’ll come to tonight’s shift. Do I come at the same time as yesterday?”

“Yes, same time, same place. See you then. Get some sleep kid. Bye.”

The line dies as your boss hangs up. Your shoulders drop, the death grip on the jacket in your hand loosens. You still have a job. Great. You might run into a corpse man again. Not so great. You walk over to the kitchen, take a seat, and slouch over the table. You’re going to need more than a pot of coffee today.

------------------------------

When your shift rolled around, you walked back to the small trailer in the far right of the field. You pressed the doorbell to alert your boss of your arrival. With a buzz, the door unlocked to let you in. You step into the office and close the door quietly behind you. 

“Hi boss”, you greeted the old man. This time the cue-ball had an aged ball cap on his head. He was also wearing a similar jacket to your own. The rolling chair squeaked as your boss scooted from his desk and stood up. He gave you an indifferent look before he adjusted the cap. “We have a camera knocked on the far back of the place. Some kids knocked them off this morning. Your coworker was able to fix most of the cameras, but we got two more to replace.”

You watched your boss pick up two walkie talkies from the left of the computer monitor. As he shuffled across the room, he stuffed one into his pocket and handed you the spare. "Thanks," you muttered out of politeness before you took the device and stuffed it into your empty pocket. He then walked over to the table next to the door to grab the boxes piled on top. He reached in and grabbed two orange-colored boxes, handing you one of them. Examining the box, you noticed a logo with the word ‘security camera’ printed on the side. 

“We’re going to need a couple items from the storage shed. We’ll need a ladder, screwdriver, and… you still have the flashlight, right?” 

 You fished around in your pockets before you found it, pulling the item out to show him. He nods in approval. Grabbing the massive piles of keys from the lockbox, both of you tread through the grass to the shed. Breaking the silence, you addressed the elephant in the room. 

“Thank you for giving me another chance, boss.” 

Both of you stopped in front of the wooden building with a pad lock blocking the latch. As your boss searched for the right key, he addressed your statement.

“It’s fine, kid,” he sighed. “People usually have a fight-or-flight response and you did what you had to do to stay safe. We commonly associate cemeteries with awful stuff, so I’m not mad at you for running away.”

He unlocked and opened the door to the shed. Without looking back, he clicked the light switch to illuminate the interior. Stuffing his keys in his pocket, he strutted into the building and plucked the materials for the job.

“From your background check, you seem like the type to work hard. You’re not the type to run off and party like some college kids. You have a goal in mind and you’re using whatever is in your arson and you are doing the best you can. It’s hard to find good youngsters like you.” 

This left you at a loss for words. Your impression of your boss differed from your first meeting. The bitter old man, who was courteous enough to leave trash bags in your pocket to make your job easier, now complemented you verbally. A complement you shouldn’t be receiving after last night’s stunt.

After he had gathered everything he needed, your boss stepped out of the shed and locked it behind him. “Take a tool box and ladder for yourself, kid. If anything goes wrong or a vermin chases you off again, you can call me.”

You nodded in agreement, “Yes boss”. 

Tucking the security camera under your arm, you picked up the small ladder and tool box. After confirming where you needed to go, both of you went on your separate ways to fix the damaged property. Lugging the items to the location was one thing, the remains of the previous camera was a bigger problem. Whoever the kids were, they did a magnificent job at smashing the camera from this angle. They knocked it off from the adjustable base that connected to the wall of the building. The smashed camera barely hung from the cable that was tacked to the roof. With a sigh, you put the items down on the ground, picking up the ladder and setting it in place. You reached into your pocket and put the flashlight in place. Turning it on, you rummaged into the toolbox to find a screwdriver. Once successful, you opened up the box to unravel the packaging from the new camera.

Cradling the new camera in the crook of your arm, you climb up the ladder and get to work. Taking the old camera down from the cable wasn’t that bad. Unscrewing the base proved to be a slight problem as one hole was bent from whatever impact it received. An hour later, the new camera was in place and the smashed pieces were sprawled across the grass. 

Once you got down from the ladder you rolled your shoulders to release the tension on your neck. At least that was a pleasant change from being nose deep into your books this morning. Reaching into your pocket, you produced your walkie talkie. Pressing the button on the side, you asked, “Boss ya there?” You waited two seconds before the block crackled back. 

“Yea? You done there?” your boss’s garbled voice reverberated back.

“Yes, I’m done setting up the new camera. I’m going to take a ten here before heading back to the supply shed.”

“I’m in the office. No vermin?”

You briefly paused. Was this a small joke or a genuine concern? “No boss, not a single vermin in sight so far.”

“10-4” he mumbled before the line went silent again. 

Speaking of vermin, you haven’t seen that guy again. A shiver ran down your back at the memory of the zombie. You don’t want to see him again. Not on this shift, not in the future either. 

Stuffing the black brick into your pocket, you took a minor break before you headed back to the shed. Sitting down on the second step of the ladder, you let out a sigh of relief. You tilted your head, rolling your muscles and looking up at the night sky.

The clouds covered the sky, not a single star appeared amongst the sea of gray fluff. Deep down you wished you could see a sliver of the moon or stars. You felt tranquil when you could see them in the night sky. No matter which town you were in, someone from across the country would see the same orb burning in the dark. It was nice to know you weren’t the only one looking up at the same atmosphere. It made you feel less lonely in a time like this.

 A crunch pulls you out of your thoughts. You looked behind to see the last person you wanted to see tonight: The goddamn corpse boy. He had his back towards you, and you immediately went into flight mode, your body flinging itself from your resting spot. The quick movement caused the ladder to topple over and crash into the soft ground.

The man stopped to turn his attention to you. From his hunched position, your flashlight illuminated his face. Fresh blood smeared down from his forehead. Gray paint contoured his cheek and eyes in an unflattering manner. Instead of accentuating his features, it made him look more gaunt. From afar his eyes looked dark and lifeless, devoid of any color. From this distance you couldn’t tell if it was drool coming down his chin, but something other than blood was running down his face.

The man straightened, wiping the spit-like substance off his chin with the back of his hand. You barely noticed his change in stance because all of your attention was focused on the pocket knife held in his bloody hand. With no time to lose, you made a mad dash towards the office.

“NO NO NO NO NO”, you shouted in your desperation to get to the sanctuary. The night was going so peacefully. Why did he have to ruin it? How the hell did he even get a knife? Was he buried with it? Whatever the answer was, you weren't sticking around to find out. 

To not bash yourself into the office door, you use your hands to reduce the impact against your body. You banged on the door, “Boss, let me in! Hurry!” You kept frantically twisting the doorknob, wanting to get in the second it unlocked. 

Once the door opened, you quickly slid inside and shut the door. Chest heaving from the activity, you pressed yourself against the only entrance to the trailer office. Your boss gave you a look of concern as he slightly rolled to the side in his chair.

“Vermin?” he asked questionably. 

“No, there’s a man covered in blood in the cemetery. He has a knife with him so I came running down here” you huffed. 

Your boss cocked his brow, but you could tell from the look in his eye, he didn’t doubt you. He turned back to the monitor and checked the surveillance screen for the guy you described. “The camera you set up is live.. I don’t see anyone there..” he muttered into the hand that propped his chin. You strode over to the side of your boss to examine the screen. Just like he said, the zombie man was nowhere to be found. Deep down, you felt your frustration rise from within you. 

“I’m going to lose my shit because of this zombie fucker,” you groaned under your breath. 

Extra

Mary stood there as he watched the grave worker from the night before scream and run away. His face scrunched in disgust at their rude reaction. “I guess they don’t want a slice,” he shrugged. Knife in hand, he carved another slice of apple and brought the piece to his mouth. Savoring the flavor, he stopped to see the crimson liquid staining the hand holding the knife in red. That’s when he realized, “Ah fuck, I guess that’s why they ran...I guess I should find them and talk with them like an adult.” He paused for a minute before he cackled. “Yeah, as if I can even hold a civil conversation with someone who runs as soon as they see me,” he groaned. With a roll of his eyes, he walked deeper into the cemetery. When he spotted the human-sized dent in the iron fence, he stuffed the remains of the fruit in his mouth and crawled through, exiting the area designated for the dead.

[sylenspotionsandspells]

Small Conquest

For my dear friend @inanimatetffantasies

...

“Why hello Corey, long time no see. Or was that a different Corey? I don’t know, I get my universes confused all the time. Anyways how can I help you today?”

When you entered this store you hadn’t expected to be greeted with that. You had heard that weird experiences could happen here and that was definitely strange. How did this guy know your name? You had never been here before and you swear you’ve never met before. “How did you-” The man nodded at you. “Yes,yes. How do I know who you are? I know because I’ve helped you before, well not this universe’s you. Come sit.” You weren’t sure what to make of this man, he seemed crazy. 

Still you sat down on the other side of the table the man was sitting at. “My name is Sylen if you don’t know or have forgotten...though I doubt you could forget someone like me.” The man made a show of himself. He was definitely weird, you decided. The man laughed a bit when you thought that. “So, what can I do for you today?” You were about to answer when the man interrupted you. “Ah so you don’t actually know? Don’t worry I do! I hope you enjoy your new life!” With a wave of the man’s hand you felt yourself fall backwards. You continued to fall for a while. Suddenly you felt yourself falling out of your clothes. You could tell because you watched your shoes, socks and pants slip away from you. Your underwear soon after. You watched as you shrunk into your shirt’s neck hole. The large fabric sailed past you as you continued to fall. It wasn’t long before you hit the ground. However when you sat up, you were no longer in the store. You seemed to be in an older looking house… and it was HUGE.

Standing up you began to walk around. The wooden floor below you felt both the same as it normally would but also different since you were only a couple inches tall. Suddenly you heard screaming coming from outside the house. You could tell something was happening and people were afraid. You weren’t sure what exactly was going on but you could feel your heart beat rise. Suddenly, the large door was thrown open and a man the size of a god entered the house.

The man was gigantic. He had long dark hair with a long wild beard to match. He was covered in leather and fur. A large Axe was held in his hand. This man was a viking, you had always liked vikings so it was easy for you to know he was one. You watched as his boots came towards you. You had to leap out of the way not to be crushed.

The viking let out a loud yell before slamming his axe onto the table that was in the middle of the house. You watched as he slid it across the table making all of the contents fly onto the floor. Once again you had to doge to not get squashed by things. You had barely got out of the way of a plate as it came crashing down. After everything had settled you once more stood up, as you did you came face to face with one large boot. Craning your head up, you looked far up and saw the large bearded face of the viking staring down at you. He had a look of curiosity on his face. You froze in place at the sight.

“Well well, what do we have here?” He bent down. As the giant man squatted closer to you, you turned and began to run away. “Where are you going little friend?” It didn’t matter how fast you ran, the vikings large hand soon wrapped around you. The strong callused hand held you tight in its grasp, you could see how dirty and blistered the hand was from holding the axe. Your heart started to beat even faster being trapped.

The cool hair rushed past you as you were brought up to the man’s face. With how close you got, you were able to see each strand of hair in his large and unkept beard. It was definitely a sight for you. The vikings large eyes felt like they were burning into you.  “What do I call you little one?” While you were still frozen with fear, you figured making the man man wouldn’t be a good idea. “C-Corey.” The man rose his eyebrow. “Corey? Are you some type of Imp?” You shook your head. “Then why are you as tiny as a mouse?”  You struggled to find the words. “I-I don’t know.”

The man turned his head as a loud scream echoed through the air. “Well. I am called Leif and I shall be your new master. Now I must return to the conquest.” The word Master rang through your head. “What?! N-” You didn’t get more time to talk as the man opened up his pants and dropped you inside.

Falling once more you found yourself landing on something soft and sturdy. Whatever you were on was a little sticky and it had a strong musky odor. Looking up you saw a large forest of curly unkempt hair, pubic hair. It had hit you then what you were holding onto, you wanted to let go but you didn’t know where you would land. This wasn’t what you had expected when you entered the shop. Then you realized what had happened. You had always fantasized around being a giant viking and the shop had specialized in making fantasies come true. But how did the person know about this fantasy and how did he make him tiny for a viking? It must have been magic, it had to be. Beneath you, you could feel the large member start to harden. It had bounced a little and you held on tighter. The warmth against your naked body and strong musk began to take effect on you. Your eyes started to flutter shut and your grasp on the large cock began to loosen. You began to drift off to sleep and soon fell to the bottom of the man's underwear and were crushed by his giant sweaty balls.

That’s where your new life began. You crushed under Leif’s large musky balls while he pillaged a town. When his conquest was over, he would pull you out of his underwear and use you as the little servant you were. You would be used to lick and clean his feet and other areas. Your new home would be there in his underwear right besides your new best friend. It wasn’t the life you imagined you’d have, but it was one you wanted.

Back in the store, Sylen smiled. “Ah I’m glad I could help you again friend. You always do have good desires, even if you don’t realize it. Until next time Corey.” The bell of the store rang and Sylen prepared to help out his next customer.

[mrwinterr]

Death of Me (Chase Collins x Dark!Witch!Female Reader) - Part 1

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Chase Collins x Dark!Witch!Female Reader

Summary: The reader is addicted to the idea of love and Chase is addicted to the idea of ultimate power – both can help each other out.

Warnings: Movie spoilers for The Covenant (2006) and The Love Witch (2016). Supernatural elements [witchcraft], dark themes [mentions of death and really bad people] and smut [18+ only please].

Disclaimer: This story contains dialogue, characters and references taken from both films. It essentially follows the plot of The Covenant with a reader insert. The reader is loosely based on the main character of The Love Witch. I take no credit for any of those elements used. They belong to the creators of the films. I just wanted to try my hand at having these worlds crossover.  

Title Inspiration: “Death of Me” by New Politics

A/N: I don’t know who still reads Chase Collins fanfics, but I wanted to get this one out. This will have multiple parts. Comments, likes and reblogs are all appreciated! Enjoy!

Now entering the town of Ipswich.

It’s a bit dreary, but that didn’t bother you. It always appeared as if a dark cloud followed you. Miles and miles away from the city you last called home, driven away by another failed attempt at a relationship – you were no stranger to those – was becoming somewhat of a routine for you.

The earliest unsuccessful relationship of yours recorded was with your parents. They were hardly a part of your life to begin. It wasn’t like you didn’t try at building one with them; they were the ones that didn’t. You might as well had been invisible to them. A parents’ love was the first kind of love one was supposed to encounter, and it was to be unconditional. They simply didn’t care for their own daughter and it hurt you. Maybe if they showed you any ounce of love or what it was really like perhaps you wouldn’t be so obsessed over trying to understand it. Ironically for two individuals who expressed no love at all, you had so much of it. It was just the matter of finding the right person to give it to.

For as long as you could remember, you’d been fending for your own. So, the first thing you did when you managed to save enough money, you packed up and left your parents. The next city was supposed to your second chance, but you were so young. You hadn’t even begun to plan your own future. Hell, you were living in the car you’d purchased on your own by accepting countless odd jobs and getting paid under the table. For a few months, you had waitressed at a small restaurant, where a group of interesting people, to say the least, caught your attention.

They were regulars to the eatery and had been watching you with a purpose. They could smell you were somewhat of a troubled youth that needed guidance. They welcomed you to their inner circle and soon into their coven. Yup, they were witches and surprisingly that didn’t bother you about them. They were good people to you. You owed it to whoever these people worshiped because they helped provide you an education, shelter, food and lessons in magic – practicing spells and concocting potions – and even more so in taking back control of your own life. This was now your family. You finally felt a sense of belonging with this group.

None of them had any actual internal powers, but they each individually excelled in different aspects of the craft. They taught you how to focus on concentrating energy, using your magic, to gain results; if you could achieve that you’d be the one in control, and essentially have power over the subject. You also learned that there were different types of witches – ones that were made into witches and ones born as witches. You had never known to encounter one that was born into a bloodline, but you had been warned that they would be much stronger than you, so that alone motivated you in perfecting the craft should one come to you as a threat.

You became enamored by witchcraft. You felt reborn through it. In a sense, it saved you. On top of that, you had nothing to lose, so why not sell your soul, right? While you certainly felt loved by the witches, you still yearned for a different type of love.  

The first failed relationship in which you were intimately involved in was with a guy your age at the time. Looking back at it, you can’t help but to laugh. Oh boy, what a mistake that was.

With the help of your newfound family, you were able to enroll into the local high school. Unwanted attention came with the territory of being the new girl and you were no exception to one of the most sought-after guys in your class. The next thing you knew, you were losing your virginity to him then only for him to leave you the following day. At that tender age, you thought you loved him, and you wanted him to love you. This is why it was comical. What did you know about love at 16 anyway? So impressionable and so naive.

This was the first time you experimented with love spells and potions and he was your first victim. You had been warned about messing with love spells before, but what spell didn’t come without a warning? It seemed to work, but the more time you spent with him the less you wanted to. It turned out he wasn’t in any way what you wanted at all, an even bigger mess than you were portrayed...and maybe even loved you too much. At least that’s what was mentioned in his suicide note.

His death traumatized you for the first few months and the High Priestess decided it was best you continue elsewhere. Initially, that scared you because you thought they were kicking you out, but you were bonded to them and, with another warning about love spells, she assured you that there are plenty of their kind willing to take another in, you’d just have to be sworn in all over again.

As soon as you recovered a year later, with the immense support of your new coven, you were almost an adult and ready to find the one...the new one. And this one seemed to have it going for him. He was attractive, smart and respectable, but he just had too many feelings and it turned you off. He was a fucking pussy. You swore you could still hear his sobs ringing in your ears. You wanted to love a man, not care for a child. The mental institution he ended up being committed in would be able to give him that.

You moved on fairly quickly not wanting to be reminded of the previously failed conquest, however, you should’ve seen the next one coming, but, again, you were hopeful. Third time was not a charm, it was a tragedy. Two lost individuals, one with a broken past and the other battling with substance abuse, trying to find solace in each other was a recipe for disaster. His problems were soon becoming humdrum. As if you didn’t have any problems of your own to deal with, but who was ever there for you? He constantly ached and ached for you, begged for your help. Fucking clingy. You just couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse for him anymore. Long story short, he’s six feet under a makeshift grave. Metaphorically, he had dug it on his own a long time ago.

Determined to bounce back, you found yourself traveling to a quaint colonial town in Massachusetts. A member of your previous coven recommended Ipswich and believed you would find the one in your cards there. Not sure whether or not to believe them or if “the one” really existed and was waiting for you, the notion of having nothing to lose decided for you and made Ipswich your new destination.

You’re unloading box after box in your single dorm room, a special request you made so you could practice magic in peace, when someone pokes their head in the door you left opened. It was only open because you weren’t able to drag in some of the larger boxes inside yet and they must’ve spotted them.

“Need any help?” The deep voice causes you turn to the doorway, where a guy, who’s tall, no doubt athletic, a head full of dark hair, a hint of innocence surrounding him, greets you with a sweet smile.

“Um, yeah actually,” you reply with a smile to match the tone. You could carry your own, but why turn down the free labor and perhaps even a show. He was cute. That much you deduced from watching the way his body moved, the skin that peeked out from when his shirt would ride up as he bent down and lifted boxes of your belongings into your room.

“Oh! Please be careful with that one!” You warn seeing the box he was currently handling marked as fragile. It contained some of your bottles and they were practically sacred to you. He absorbs the warning and places the particular box gently aside.

“I’m Tyler by the way,” he says after setting the final box next to your feet and standing upright with a respectable amount of distance between you two. You introduce yourself and offer a now genuine smile. You didn’t want to fall victim to yet another nightmare of a relationship, but you kept thinking about what your fellow member told you – the one is in Ipswich and the one could be in front of you right now.

Tyler ends up staying a little longer as you expected that night and you let him. He had a presence you didn’t feel with towards the others. There was just a different kind of energy there.

The two of you were getting along just fine, but you decided to take it upon yourself for safe measures with him and sneak in a little something you made. You say to yourself maybe he’s worth a shot. And he was. You went on a couple of dates with Tyler, met his three closes friends Caleb, Pogue and Reid, but you wouldn’t consider yourself close with them; they just came with the territory. Yet that energy Tyler had around him kept haunting you.

You weren’t sure if you were losing your touch or had a typo in your spell book, but you began to notice the effects didn’t last long with him in particular. He was almost immune to it. The spells were designed to enhance qualities and features about the other person and if you noticed any trend in using love spells was that it showed one’s true self.

Tyler started to become dull to you, like there was no sense of excitement with him. Harsh, not even magic could help you. Afterall, you can’t work with what’s already there. He had his looks going for him, he was a nice boy, and he was certainly several steps above the others in bed, but he never challenged you and you began forgetting he was even in the same room as you. You could’ve sworn he was about to cry when you told him you wanted to just be friends, but he accepted it because he was whipped. No backbone whatsoever. Well, at least he was still alive.

His loss would’ve probably hit you a little different because he was still a sweet guy…and you didn’t need to be given a reason to leave Ipswich too soon. You were just getting started here. His friends didn’t even seem to hold anything against you, not that you really cared. You weren’t interested in going down the line of the Sons of Ipswich; a little history lesson you learned from Kate, Pogue’s girlfriend, whom you unwillingly also formed a friendship with by default. Apparently, these boys were a little prominent here descending from four of the five families that colonized the town. Besides, if Tyler was boring, you weren’t willing to get into the whole mama’s boy routine Caleb kept up with and Reid proved to be too obnoxious for your own taste.

A private school full of rich kids like Spencer Academy, there were bound to be more guys at your disposal. You internally praised the member of your coven for recommending Ipswich. Your conquest to find real love never wanders too far off, but why not have some fun along the way?

Lately, you kept to yourself in your dorm; biding by with your teenage life in regularly attending your classes, occasionally hanging out with Kate – shopping or listening to her rant about another one of Pogue’s jealousy episodes – show face at Nicky’s once in a while and of course practice magic. There was a party tonight near the woods and almost everyone who was anyone was going to be in attendance. You thought you could use a break after a long week.

You parked your car nearby a bunch of others and managed to spot Kate waving you down to join her. Next to her was someone you hadn’t seen before. Kate introduced her to you as Sarah, her new roommate this semester. She seemed nice. Being in her shoes not too long ago, you decided to try and make her feel welcomed.

“So, tell me. Who is who that’s here,” Sarah asks, loosening up and it’s nice to see a sense of normalcy in your life; making new friends and having a good time like a person your age should. There’s a sense of danger and risk being at this party with violating trespassing signs, a huge fire and lots and lots of drugs and alcohol with underaged teenagers.

“First things first. Him over there,” Kate starts pointing at a source of one of your disgust, “that’s Aaron Abbot. He’s a prick. He treats girls like shit; just ask y/n.” Sarah looks at you with a look of curiosity and hint of concern, but you just give her a mix between a shrug and nod letting her know you’re okay and that Kate is right.

Aaron was someone you messed with in private to test a new potion out after failing with Tyler. You’d seen guys like Aaron before. If you learned anything from the first one it was that guys like Aaron were your textbook high school jackass. Thinking about it made your blood boil. The humiliation you felt when you realized he had only pursued you because you were fresh meat and to become just a notch on his bedpost. How’d that saying go? Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice…

If there was one other thing you loved more than the idea of love, it was sweet revenge. You anticipated for it to be nasty with Aaron after you cut ties with him. No one even seemed to believe him when he tried to spread awful things about you. You had a decent reputation at Spencer. You mentally praised yourself at job well done with that one. Maybe you weren’t losing your touch after all.

You briefly excused yourself from the girls to look for a drink. You scan the perimeter trying to locate a cooler, but you become distracted when you see a hint of a flash between some trees in your peripheral. As it occurred something seemed to also blow right past you; something you only felt with when in proximity of other supernatural elements, but yet unlike any other. You look to the other attendees and realize no one noticed anything unusual. When you look back towards the direction where the light came from, you see a figure walking out from the woods.  

You take a hard look at the person trying to recognize them, but you don’t. A new guy. He’s got a certain swagger in his steps, dark hair tousled and a little spiked at the ends, a sharp jawline and eyes that were too dark for you be able to tell what color they really were, and it being nighttime didn’t aid you in figuring it out.  

He must’ve caught your gaze because he’s now staring right back at you. His stare is cold, and you feel frozen, even unable to turn away. And yet again, something feels different and it only gets even more prominent the longer you look at him. You try not to ponder too long about it and decide to avoid him. You concentrate enough energy on your body until you were finally able to get yourself to walk away. Not wanting to stick around long enough for anything to come out of that, you continue your quest to find a drink, not looking back.

Unsuccessful, you head back towards the girls that were clearly in a scuffle with mega bitch Kira Snider, who is actually dating Aaron and has a personal vendetta against you. How were you supposed to know he was already dating her when you were fucking with him? Poor girl doesn’t love herself enough to be with trash like that.

You notice the Sons of Ipswich have already arrived and are trying to defend Kate and Sarah. Right before a fight is about to ensue, someone intervenes and successfully calms both parties down...well sort of. Kira didn’t really take too kindly at his words and Aaron at the puke that was dripping off the back of his letterman all of a sudden.

It was him. He looked a lot nicer up close. The guys thank him for helping diffuse the situation and you hear him introduce himself as Chase Collins. You can feel his eyes on you, but before the line of introductions could get to you, the DJ is announcing the party is a bust and the cops are zoning in. Soon, you break away from the group and take off in the direction of your parked car.

You happen to notice that Sarah is struggling to get her car started. You think about helping her, but see Reid is already on it. The sons are always saving the day, aren’t they? Was your last stance on that before you drove away from the scene. The adrenaline didn’t subside until you were on a clear road back to the housing buildings.

You just about have the key inserted and are about to unlock your door when you hear a voice.

“Some party, huh?” It sounded like just a couple of steps away.

You look down towards the hallway and see Chase standing a few doors down.

“It was kind of boring,” you admit. The only thing that would’ve probably made it exciting was if someone almost died.

He laughs lightly at that and nods showing he agreed to some degree.

“You didn’t have the least bit fun at all?” He asks.

You cock your head to the side a bit for show and pretend to think, but your mind was already made up. The party was a total bust and waste of your time, so no, you didn’t have any fun at all, but you could have some fun now. Hot guy you barely knew in front of you, attempting conversation – you thought he just had to have wanted something.

“You want to have some real fun?” You challenge as you reach deep into your coat pocket and produce a custom flask. It sparkles slightly from the lights of the hallway reflecting it as you wave it around giving him a devious look. 

Chase presses his lips together and brings a hand to the back of his neck to rub at it, showing some form of nervous or conflicting habit, before looking around to see if anyone was watching this happen. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, but you don’t give him much time to reply and proceed to push open your door and walk in. You don’t close it though.

You’re shrugging off your coat and kicking off your shoes when you hear the door shut behind you. You smile to yourself because he’s fallen right into your trap.

“You know, I never got your name,” he says while admiring your room. The only source of light comes from a dimly lit lamp and the strings of light surrounding the tapestry against the wall next to your bed. You always kept your secret hidden and out of plain sight in fear of someone breaking in, so as far as you were concerned, you weren't at him catching onto anything. 

“It’s y/n.”

Chase nods and says he likes it. You try not to roll your eyes at that before you turn his way, throwing the flask you were flaunting earlier in his direction and then plopping down on your bed. He swiftly catches it and walks towards the bed.

“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” He teases taking a seat next to you.

“Why don’t you find out?” You sit up matching him.

He smirks while unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. You watch as his initial reaction is to cringe at its contents. His eyes wring shut, nose scrunched up, lips pressed tightly together and the rest of his expression showing his body’s response at an attempt to process the hard liquor.

“Shit! That’s fucking strong,” he comments staring at the flask as if he could see through the silver and inspect the liquid.

“Finish it,” you command, your voice was smooth but still assertive – a deadly combination. He’s almost hypnotized by your cold and striking stare, he only feels compelled to listen. You observe the way his lips shone from the liquid that coated it, the way his throat contracted when he swallowed it down and how he peeked through one of his eyes to get a look at you watching him ingest every last drop and when he’s done he lunges at you. Chase doesn’t miss a beat when his lips meld with yours.

You pull him down and closer by the lapels of his thick coat before you’re kicking at the ends of it with your bare feet trying to help you rid him of it. You momentarily feel all his weight press into you as he nimbly tries to remove the outerwear, his lips never leaving yours. You hear a click at your door and pull away from him to see if someone had entered.

You don’t see any sign of disturbance, but you could’ve sworn you heard something. Chase doesn’t let that distract you as he brings you in by grabbing the back of your neck to reconnect your lips with his. The moment he slips his tongue in to meet with yours you melt. You had to stress this one, but he was a really good kisser. You might’ve met your match as his tongue continued to show dominance against yours.

His drive only fuels you and you’re able to summon enough strength to roll over and get him underneath your body. You place a few kisses on his face and neck, running your hands down his clothed chest before you lift the end of his shirt up to reveal his toned torso and also begin planting kisses there as well.

Your fingers deftly unfasten his belt and pop open the front of his dark jeans. Chase lets out a small sigh in finding relief to the sudden tightness in his clothing. The sound of you slowly dragging down his zipper is loud. It’s only that excruciating because you’re taking your sweet time. You pull apart his pants to get a close look at what you’re going to be dealing with. The outline of his cock just with what you can make out through his boxers is rather impressive. It twitches from your hot breath due to the close proximity.

You shoot him a crooked smile before wrapping a hand around his length. He hisses at the action and tries his best to keep his hips grounded as you continue to stroke him and every now and then give a little squeeze to his heavy balls, the soft vibrations of your nails scratching through the fabric torturing him. Cute. He’s trying to hold back. So, you kick it up a notch by licking a fat strip along the base and ignoring the fabric that sticks to your tongue.

It works because suddenly Chase props himself with one hand behind him and using the other to grab yours, the one that is still gripping at the waistline of his jeans and he stares you down. This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him; at the eyes you couldn’t make out earlier and make a mental note of what color they were. He’s fucking gorgeous. Clouded with lust, you don’t even sense it but it’s almost like you’re under a spell until you feel the tight grip he has on you loosen up and he lies back down allowing you to carry on.

You sit up, between his spread legs and reach around to pull his footwear off. He instinctively lifts his hips up when your fingers sneak their way into the elastic of his boxers. You expertly pull them down along with his jeans before they’re joining the rest of his clothes on the floor.

You reclaim your position back on top, your dress draping over his exposed bottom half as you straddle him. Chase’s hands start bunching up the material to caress the soft skin of your thighs and hips before he’s tugging at it. You help him and cross your arms to pull the material over your head and leave you in your undergarments.

Chase runs his tongue along his lips and sucks in a harsh breath taking in your appearance. You love the way he’s biting his lip when you add pressure into grinding your clothed core onto his bare one; so much you want to see him draw blood. The material of your underwear is so thin, it slides off to the side with each passing grind of your hips that get sloppier and sloppier than the next, it’s now skin on skin contact. You feel the ridges and prominent under vein scrape across your growingly wet pussy along with the way the crown of his engorged cock nudges deliciously against your clit.  

You’re gripping harshly at his shirt; it starts to stretch when you pull it in a downwards motion because the sensation you’ve both created from the constant gyrations causes a rise out of you. You feel Chase grab at the rolled-up material and pull it down your legs. When you’ve discarded of it, he takes over reigns this time and kicks your legs apart to make room for him.

The unseen and unspoken tension between you two was enough foreplay in itself. There’s no hesitation when he slips right into you. It’s a smooth entrance from how wet you from the grinding and the cum that managed to escape prematurely from him. There’s an abundance of euphoria that the each of you emote from the ragged breathing, provocative moans to the sting of your skin slapping. 

You think this isn’t anything more than pure want, but with a snap of his hips, you feel another strange feeling blow right through you. It was like the one you felt at the party, only a little more intense, but you didn’t even have time to mull over it when he finds the right spot in you. He hits it repeatedly and he’s not missing at all.

Chase sees the spaced-out look on your face, so he starts kissing you again. Your limbs wrap themselves around his body as you tightly cling onto him. Your hands desperately rake themselves on his back, trying to hold on from the immense pleasure he’s brewing in you, but you have a hard time with his pesky shirt still on until you finally manage to pull it over his head and have him fully naked.

His grunts and moans increase in volume when your walls retaliate by clenching around him from the perfect aim of his thrusts. You bring his head up to yours and smoosh your lips together with his. Chase then hooks an arm under one of your legs and hikes that leg up higher for a better angle. It’s so good you let out a string of lewd moans that causes your lips to repeatedly pull away from his. You curse at the insane amount of pleasure that he’s giving you like none of the others have before. You even catch the stupid smug look on his face when your orgasm washes over you. You grip tightly a handful of his cheeks, your hips lifting off the bed as they press against his to leave absolutely no space in between and in the process effectively allowing him to completely bottom out. You wanted to feel every inch of him when it happened.

He places a hand next to your head to help his stance, it’s a shaky one because he’s just about ready to bust. The tempo Chase sets, so relentless, had caused your breasts to bounce out of the confines of your bra.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns shamelessly. The way your breasts swayed, the harsh intake of each breath evident from the sight of your stomach tightening and untightening, your legs quivering around him and the fact that you were still riding through the aftershocks of your release, your walls were helplessly fluttering around him – just watching you wrecked with the satisfaction he brought on should’ve done it for him right then and there.

“Then cum,” you dare at him, your lips brushing his with each word that comes out next, “inside me…do it.” And like a snap of your fingers, you feel Chase spill deep inside you. You open your eyes wide enough and see something unusual when you look at him. A ring of fire flashes in his eyes very briefly before he closes them from the exhilaration. Each pump of cum that shoots out of him is followed by the accompanied throb that causes the head of his cock to poke at your sweet spot again, and in doing so initiates a small tidal wave of pleasure to crash right through you again.

Once he regained some composure and control of his breathing, his eyes reopen and they’re back to normal. Guess you were just seeing stars, or fire, in him. You carefully cup at his face with both hands and absentmindedly trace along at his boyish features; from the brow line of his eyebrows to the tip of his nose. He’s a fucking work of art. A lethargic smile splays out across his mouth and you return the display of affection with a smile of your own and giving him a kiss, which he immediately reciprocates to; no tongue or fervor in it, just of sweet contentment.  

While it was good, more than good, you’re too sensitive, you’re not sure if you have enough in you for a second go. Careful to not elicit another round, you wiggle your hips a bit with him still inside in hopes to get him to move off of you.

Chase slowly and cautiously pulls out, and you feel the trickle of his cum leaking out of you. He inwardly praises at the filthy sight of it all before settling next to you. As you’re about to drift off into sleep, your mind starts turning. Something about Chase made you feel strange. There was a different aura about him, and it was evoking a certain emotion from you.

A/N: This is me holding back on smut. This series is going to be quick because as mentioned, it’s The Covenant just with a reader and her own agenda caught in the crossfire...and an excuse for me to write Chase Collins smut, so if you're craving some of that then stick around! 

[ladyofmaidensandwine]

Prince of Carrion and Queen of Thieves

For the Pick Two Challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld​ 

This is part one of an ongoing series I am writing. If you would like to be tagged, let me know.

Prompts:  Enemies to Lovers AU, and the dialogue “If you touch him/her/them, I’ll kill you.”

Characters: Dean Winchester, Fem! Irish! Reader, John Winchester, Crowley, Lucifer (mentioned)

Summary: Captured and forced to become a spy for the enemy, Y/N’s deception is threatened by the arrival of an unexpected face from her hidden past, and must decide whether the son of her enemy could be her ally.

Wordcount: 1,846

Series Masterlist

                   Moonlight slanted through the small cracks in the thick stone walls of your prison, the only indication of how many days had passed and what time it was. Time remained mostly meaningless despite that, with nothing to do but think in the heavy silence that settled as thickly as the shadows of your windowless cell. You had been taken by your rivals at long last, and you knew they’d been trying to capture you for almost three years. You had been hell-bent on making it as difficult as possible for them.

               They called you many things. Assassin, spy, thief, demon, witch, some names you wouldn’t repeat. After two years in a Southern labor camp, they’d dragged you in heavy iron shackles to the great marble palace where King John Winchester of Lebanon resided, and tossed you into your cell. No one but the stoic and silent guards and a frightened maid ever saw you, and you’d given up mostly on trying to speak to anyone, but you could hear the maids speaking in whispers about you, afraid to even say your name aloud, and even the guards seemed uneasy in your presence. It was fair, and wise, on their part to be so wary. You had earned your fame through blood and blade, and legends spread like wildfire, blurring fact and fiction so that you appeared some savage and death-hungry monster, a creature arisen from the darkest depths of Hell and sent to claim fiery retribution. You could almost laugh at the stories they made up about you. 

            Perhaps they truly believed the cell would hold you. You had once been caged, a long time ago, and had escaped then, too, and that cage had been made for someone much, much worse than you. 

               Your eyes shot to the mostly obscured hall as the sound of footsteps echoed against the stone. The first figure you recognized- the maid that came to bring you food and drink and tend to your wounds. The second was new, a tall and broad-shouldered man, nobility of some kind, based on the metal and finery gleaming in the torchlight, though his face was hidden in shadow. You wondered what he saw- myth, monster, or another prisoner?

              Crown Prince Dean Winchester had been there, the day you’d arrived, shackled and bound, covered in grime and gaunt and pale from the underground labor camp. He hadn’t known who you were, but you’d impressed him, refusing to kneel before his father, a fire burning in your eyes that no amount of torture or back-breaking work had been able to extinguish. That fire had blazed in promise when you’d looked the King in the eyes, a man that had won the Throne through conquest and ruthless determination, a warrior that claimed the lives of thousands of monsters across the lands, and you’d vowed that one day, you would burn his palace to the ground, and let him live long enough to see his legacy in smoking, charred ruins, before you killed him for what he’d done. John hadn’t answered, but it was clear your threat held water- the guards attending you were doubled, and it made Dean wonder how dangerous you must be, this thin, pale, dirt-caked woman, to be concerning even when completely chained, enough so that six fully-armed men had to escort you away. He’d asked his father what charges you were held for, and John had laughed a low, grim laugh and looked at Dean. “Murder, son. Many, many counts of murder.”

           Dean couldn’t reconcile the image painted of you, this fierce, merciless, bloodthirsty killer, with the weak looking woman there in the cell before him. “Who are you?” You called, voice rough, but strong. Your accent was strange, marking you as a foreigner. “No one important. Who are you?” He returned, still concealed in the gloom. You smirked, nodding slightly. “That depends.” You answered. “On?” “Which side you fight for. They call me Y/N, and others call me Morrigan, Queen of Thieves, Bringer of Death.” You said, a sly smile on your lips. “And which shall I call you by?” Dean questioned. “I would not make it a habit to call me either. I do not think I am fitting company for a man as yourself to keep. You knew that, though. Yet, you are not afraid.” You noted, sounding intrigued. Dean shrugged casually. “Your turn, then. What Lord or King are you the son of?” You asked. “King John Winchester. I am Prince Dean.” Dean said at last. Your expression turned cold. “Ah. Son of my captor, King of Conquest. And why are you here?” “To see for myself the murderer that leaves brave men afraid of the dark.” Dean said gruffly. “You have convicted me a killer, and yet, I hear great tales of the blood on your hands, Prince of Carrion, Righteous Man, Sword of Micheal. They speak your name as though you are holy, chosen by divine power to rid the world of evil. Have you come to kill me, Dean Winchester?” You questioned, voice calm and steady. Dean stepped into the light, meeting your eyes. “No. I am here to take you to the King.”

                   They gave you a contract. The terms were simple, and you didn’t really have a choice. Sign, or be killed. You were to be a weapon for the King, put under the custody and jurisdiction of the eldest son, and given a new identity in order to appear as a foreign Princess, Her Majesty Princess Y/N Lachdunne of Skye, the wolf in sheep’s clothing. You’d been whisked away by a group of handmaidens tasked with making you presentable, and given two months to recover before being presented to court, at which point your mission began. What King John did not know was that you were far more than a simple assassin, more than anyone could expect, and you would take your secret to your grave. You wondered briefly, as you were stuffed into a dress of silks and decorated with fine jewelry, if anyone else could see the deception in your eyes, the predator lurking in your smile.

                At first, you were used for observation. People were so often careless around women, and your new guise portrayed you as trustworthy, little more than a pretty decoration. They did not trust you with weapons, an inconvenience if you were to be attacked, but you would rip an enemy apart with your bare hands if you had to. It was a new game you played, so treacherous this deception, requiring attention to every tiny expression on your face, the way you sat or moved, who you spoke with and what was said, what colour dress you donned, and even the way you smiled could be scrutinized, and you knew that like you, the court was made of people wearing pretty disguises to conceal the snakes underneath. And it was not only them you had to fool. The King did not know your secret, could not ever know, and his son was smart, clever, quick to pick up on anything that could betray your true identity, and you knew Dean would be the first to draw a sword against your throat should you make the tiniest slip. Your new persona was something you donned like armor, guarding yourself and everything you loved behind a pretty face and empty words.

             Four months in, and you were doing well. Those who knew you were a trained killer would never trust you, and expected you to be planning vengeance, but they still suspected nothing beyond the obvious. The court ladies adored you, and you charmed the men with a smile, so careful to keep that smile polite and inviting, practicing making your smile meet your eyes in the mirror dozens of times, so convincing you would perhaps consider acting as a career. Four months of lying to everyone, of playing your part, of spying and eavesdropping, of giving the King details both true and false, hoping to catch him in a falter and glean information that would tell you why he was willing to let his greatest enemy walk the halls of his castle, to dine at his table, dress in his colors. Four months before anything went wrong.

               Another party over, and another night unfurling. You weren’t supposed to see, that much was obvious, but you had already been discovered, and it took every ounce of will within you to keep that pleasant and disarming smile on your lips, to hide the raging fire in your eyes. Eyes that locked with a familiar pair, daring them to speak. “Y/N. I assume you recognize our guest.” King John said, amused. “Perhaps. I may be mistaken.” You said carefully. “I doubt that highly. Allow me to introduce Duke Crowley.” John gestured. Crowley studied you, and you held your breath, praying he wouldn’t recognize you. It had been so long, but you could never forget that face, a face that haunted your nightmares. “A pleasure, darling, I’m sure. You do seem familiar. I can’t quite place it.” Crowley mused, narrowing his eyes. “I’m certain you recognize Princess Lachdunne from a party, Your Excellency. If you would excuse us, we did have something to discuss.” Dean cut in smoothly, saying it with a charming smile as he took your arm. You knew what he was doing, reminding you of your role by using your fake name, and wondered, if he had caught the hatred in your gaze, whether the others had, too.

                Dean led you swiftly into a room, glancing around the hall before shutting the door. “What the hell was that?” He demanded. You didn’t answer, eyes unfocused and jaw clenched. “Y/N!” Dean snapped. You blinked, almost shaking in your fury. “Crowley,” you spat, as though his name was poison on your tongue, “is the one who killed my parents. He slaughtered them, and then he took me and threw me into the Cage for Lucifer to have.” Dean paled at Lucifer’s name, eyes wide as he looked at you. “If he recognizes me... there will be no survivors. He would send an army, just to kill me.” “I don’t understand... Crowley is a vile man, and greedy, but he has been allies with my father for years.” “He is no Duke. Nor is Crowley his name. He was Fergus MacLeod, and now he has many titles. King of the Crossroads, King of the Damned, and now... King of Hell.” You snarled. “You went to Hell. You know what will happen if he gets his way. Your Kingdom, and me, we are all that stands between him and his goal. Why do you think he is truly allied with you, when you’ve killed so many of his men?” You pointed out. Dean’s face darkened as you mentioned his own time in Hell, that prison the worst to come of the war. “Tell me everything, Y/N. Tell me the truth. Who are you really?” Dean demanded. You studied his emerald green eyes, measured their intensity, and gave a slow nod.

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