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princecharmingwinks · 1 year

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Sterek Fic Rec - December 2022. Is it still December? Yes, for about 5 more hours, oops! Here is the final monthly rec list for the year. I hope everyone is doing something nice to bring in the new year (snuggling into bed absolutely counts!).

Many times, Many ways by Jmeelee (1/1 | 3K | Mature)

He turned around and stormed toward his Jeep. Derek called out his name, but Stiles flipped him off over his shoulder. He jabbed the key into the ignition, roared the engine, and smoked the tires as he peeled out of the parking lot, but not before he cranked down the glass and screamed at Derek from the driver’s side window, “Merry Christmas, motherfucker!”

Five times Stiles and Derek ruined Christmas, and one time they fixed it.

Build A Wolf by PalenDrome (nerdherderette) (1/1 | 5K | Teen)

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

[Excerpt]: "Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.

Yippee ki yay.

Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."

"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."

Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.

"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."

Mint Condition by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 955 | Teen)

He checks the clock, frowning in concern. Stiles had said he was going to change and that he'd be right back, but that was over twenty minutes ago. He's about to get up and go check on him, when the all-too-familiar tune of his least favorite song in the entire world starts playing on the stereo, and out comes Stiles wearing nothing but a jauntily perched Santa hat and a pair of the tiniest shorts Derek has ever seen — bright red satin to match his hat — and when Stiles twirls around to give Derek the full effect, he can make out the words naughty elf emblazoned across his asscheeks. Derek can do little more than stare open-mouthed as Stiles saunters toward him, sucking on the end of a candy cane in what he probably imagines is a seductive way, shaking his ass in time to the music — which, ugh. (As far as Derek is concerned, if hell had a soundtrack, it'd be an endless loop of Santa Baby…but it's Stiles, so he'll make an exception.) Overall, the effect is actually quite charming, and Derek would be lying if he said it wasn't doing something for him. And then Stiles starts talking.

lube and determination by bleep0bleep (2/2 | 4K | Explicit)

It's a holiday classic: homesick boy wants to make a pumpkin pie while studying abroad, boy realizes the only place to find vegetable shortening is a sex shop, and boy makes fool of himself in front of other boy.

Little talks by Vendelin (1/1 | 5K | Mature)

“Your favourite is here,” Danny says, smirking. “I tried to steal him away by giving him some extra attention, but he just looked uncomfortable.”

Stiles snorts, though he’s secretly pleased by his regular rejecting Danny. “He always looks a bit uncomfortable. I bet he’s married with a kid and a permanent guilty conscience when he’s here.”

It had been quite the surprise for Stiles to realise that he had a regular. A pretty young, hot regular, on top of that.

In which Stiles is a stripper, and Derek is the always-polite regular at the club where he works.

Depth of Field by midnitekween (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)

Stiles loves taking pictures of his pack.

Kiss It Better, Kiss It Back Together by crossroadswrite (1/1 | 3K | General)

For the tumblr prompt: stiles is cursed by a witch to forget the person he loves the most so everyone thinks it's Lydia but it's not and the only way to get the memories back is through a kiss

i see forever in your eyes by hufflepuffbaby (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

Stiles looked at his big bad Alpha, with his blush and his thumbhole sweater, and Stiles found he didn’t care if it was a bad idea, he was going to relationship the fuck out of Derek for as long as he was allowed.

Flufftober Day 5 : "Oh, no, you're a morning person"

Make You See It by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemryn), thatnerdemryn (1/2 | 2K | Mature)

Stiles didn’t say anything and Derek was grateful for leaving him speechless.

“Your mind, the way it pieces together every last puzzle piece, the way it connects dots that the rest of us didn’t even know were there, it’s--” Derek let out a breath against Stiles’ ear and reveled in the chill it sent through Stiles. “You are the most powerful of all of us.”

no matter how far away you roam by elisela (1/1 | 2K | General)

Stiles regrets not getting a tree.

He hadn’t been feeling very festive—decorations were reminders that he was spending the holidays alone, so he’d decided not to put them up, but now it’s Christmas Eve and there’s not even a strand of lights around the room to cheer him up. Watching Die Hard hadn’t worked, neither had The Grinch, and Derek hadn’t answered his phone the last three times Stiles had called him today.

It’s 7:34pm on Christmas Eve, and Stiles is ready to give it up and call it a night.

princecharmingwinks special mention (Oh my gosh I love the smut in this and the humour and everything else.)

Come Fly With Me (Or Don't) by stilinskisparkles (1/1 | 15K | Mature)

Stiles is overworked and stressed out when his flight home gets delayed due to copious amounts of snow. He finds entertainment with one Derek Hale, whom he hasn't seen since high school but really doesn't mind getting reacquainted with.

Especially when it turns out Derek is surprisingly hilarious and will reluctantly play snap with him. And can walk on his hands.

Made it through another year team, well done one and all. Happy holidays and see you in the new year ;)

#sterek #fanfiction #fic rec #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #princecharminglists

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hollybell51 · 2 years

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I promise

Masterpost

Corinthian x gn!Reader

The Sandman (2022 Netflix series)

Word count: 4814

Summary: having been alone in the Waking World since your departure from the Dreaming, you’re glad to see a familiar and sorely missed face. So is the Corinthian.

Content: no use of (Y/N), use of pet names (“sweetheart”), canon-typical horror elements and referenced violence, referenced murder/gore/violence (it’s the Corinthian guys), drinking (as in drinking a grand total of two alcoholic drinks each), reader is a nightmare, weirdly deep ruminations on the nature of love, pseudo-love confessions (you’ll see). Smut (because I feel like this needs its own category of tags): smut with feelings, oral sex, making out, hickeys, slight possessiveness, slightly pervy Corinthian I guess (???), slightly dom-y reader, slightly dom-y Corinthian, they kinda swap around, maybe I should have just said “switch”, but I mean slightly when I say slightly so I don’t really even think it’s worth labelling, penetrative sex

Notes: I am so attracted to this man it’s actually kind of depressing. Thank you Neil Gaiman and Boyd Holbrook. Also I was quite torn writing this because obviously he's a gay man in the comics which is a huge part of him and very deliberate decision (I really recommend checking out this post) but also the pansexual element of the show, so I've done this as a gender neutral reader so I guess you can take it where you want... anyways, enjoy!

Also I literally could not decide which of the many gorgeous GIFs of this man to put because holy shit he is just so hot in literally everything he does but I like his little "hmf" kinda smile near the end in this one so it's what you get <3

Your phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a notification from the news network.

“Anything good?” the bartender queried as you idly opened it, skimming the headline. You smiled. The Corinthian strikes again, police warn local citizens to exercise caution.

“Must be something,” he continued, seeing your smile.

“No,” you replied.

“So what’s got you smiling?”

“Nothing, really.”

The bartender shrugged, deftly wiping a glass and sliding it into place behind him. You idly spun the plain band of metal that circled your little finger – your promise finger – as you continued scanning the article, looking for anything that might be a clue to you. Apparently the body wasn’t found too far from where you were now, but that wasn’t helpful. He could move fast, and he did. The whole thing was riddled with the usual useless vagaries, police stating that they were working hard and that everyone should just be careful when going out at night. Everything they always said, none of it any more helpful than any other time.

It had been too long since you’d last seen the Corinthian, somewhere around half a century. You’d stopped keeping track of the years when it got to thirty. You hadn’t realised at the time that you wouldn’t be seeing him again, you’d laughed off his talk of the two of you leaving the Dreaming for the Waking World as nothing more than that; talk of grand plans as you lay wrapped in each other's arms, bodies pleasantly exhausted from the night’s activities. He’d held you close, kissed you very gently, then said nothing more on the matter. It wasn’t until you went to look for him later that it sunk in. He’d been serious, and he’d left.

Then, of course, there had been the whole debacle with the ruler of your home simply vanishing one day. You’d thought of the Corinthian, wondered what he was doing. You’d tried to look for him in people’s dreams, but you were a small nightmare and didn’t possess the power he did. And with Lord Morpheus gone, the Dreaming had begun to crumble as people succumbed to what the humans were calling “the sleepy sickness”.

There came a time around the twenty year mark of your king’s absence that you’d caved as many dreams had and slipped quietly into the realm of humanity, sliding through them like a snake through long grass. They fascinated you, and after a while you’d started to see the appeal of living among them. You didn’t exactly see their best side – you were a nightmare, after all, and like attracts like – but nonetheless you gulped every drop of their lives you could get.

You’d become aware of the Corinthian’s little hobby purely by chance, the random drop of a hat – or newspaper, since it was a dirty and battered tabloid blowing across the street in front of you just around a decade ago that had set the ball rolling. His name stood out to you like it was glowing, the description of the crime tactfully vague yet somehow more horrifying because of it cementing in your mind that it was him, that it was your Corinthian. You’d followed it like a hound follows a deer ever since, scouring every discussion, every article, every word printed on it with a comb so fine it was surprising anything at all could even get through. Yet something must have, because here you were, still searching.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender was asking someone, not you. You could feel them slide into the seat beside you, despite the bar being almost empty. Whatever, you wouldn’t be here much longer anyway.

“Whiskey, on the rocks.”

You froze. What were the chances, now, after all this time? You’d always imagined you would be the one to find him, had played out the scenario in your head to no end. You’d find a clue, follow it, everything would fall into place and there he’d be, sitting in a dark corner of a bar or pub, watching people around him through those dark glasses he always wore. You’d slip into the seat beside him just as he was now doing to you. He’d be shocked to see you, he’d give some wonderful explanation as to why he hadn’t come looking for you, then he’d laugh that beautiful laugh of his and shoot you that special admiring grin he reserved just for you. Maybe you’d be coy, maybe you’d give in and slip right back into his arms as if he’d never left.

“Reading something interesting, sweetheart?”

A smile tugged persistently at the corners of your mouth, your stomach flipping at the familiar accent, the beloved pet name. No, it looked like coy was off the table. “Something that reminds me of someone who’s been gone way too long.”

“Cut ‘em some slack,” the Corinthian said, humming appreciatively at the whiskey, “they’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, finally looking up, “they certainly have.”

He looked the same as the last time you’d seen him, exactly as you’d imagined he would. Dark glasses obscuring his eyes, pale coat, neat swathe of blonde hair cast in gold by the yellow lighting of the bar. And he was smiling at you as he took another sip of his drink, a wide grin that made your heart soar. Shit, you’d missed him more than you’d realised.

“Do you–” you started, just he said “what do you say–”

“Sorry.” You stopped, gesturing for him to continue.

“Should we get out of here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He nodded, downing the last of his drink and paying the bartender. He glanced from the money to you, then back to the Corinthian. As the realisation dawned, you quickly started to tell him that he didn’t have to pay for you, that you could buy your own long since empty drink, fumbling in your pockets for the money you knew was there but seemed to be eluding you almost deliberately.

“My treat, sweetheart,” the nightmare said, watching you idly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You don’t have to–”

He held up a hand, stopping you mid sentence. “Consider it an apology. For being gone way too long.”

You sighed, giving in. “Alright.”

He nodded, pleased with himself, and offered you his arm. Casting a hasty farewell to the bartender – smiling at what must have looked like a dream couple – you slipped your hand into the crook of the Corinthian’s elbow and allowed him to lead you out onto the dark street. He may have been a nightmare, but nobody could say he wasn’t a gentleman.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“I’m taking you home with me.” Then, at your laugh; “something funny about that?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “The real human experience, huh? Picking someone up from a bar and taking them home.”

“Not just anyone,” he corrected. “Someone real special and real pretty.”

“You do this a lot?” You tried to keep the question light, but something of your thoughts must have come through in your voice.

“Jealous?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, fighting the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “No, just curious.”

“Well let me tell you this,” he said softly, bending down close enough that his whiskey scented breath brushed your cheek, “no one can even come close to you.”

“And no one can come close to you,” you replied, ignoring the bolt of warmth the words sent through you. Yep, you’d missed him way more than you realised.

“Do you do this a lot?” he asked, his ever present grin dancing around his mouth.

You shrugged, your hand drifting to his own, much larger one. “The novelty tends to wear off a bit.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “that sounded like a yes to me.”

“Has all your time in the noise of the Waking World clogged up your ears, Corinthian?”

“Maybe, but it’s cleared my head.” The mirth had fled from his features, his brows drawing together seriously. “I didn’t realise how much I’d miss you when I left.”

“Why didn’t you come and find me?”

“I tried. For about the first twenty years or so. I even went back to the Dreaming, but I guess you left before I got there.”

You sighed, bringing your hand up to pull his arm across your shoulders. “I didn’t realise you were serious when you asked me to leave with you. If I knew, I would have come with you.”

“You’re here now,” he shrugged. His fingers stroked yours, hesitating momentarily as he felt the cold metal on your littlest one.

“Yeah. You were right,” you added. “It’s nice to have more than just people’s minds to explore. I like seeing the real things that dreams only echo.”

He hummed in agreement, drawing you closer to his side. He smelled the same as he had when he’d left, dark and woody and if you had to describe it in a word, like something expensive. He smelled like home. If you were uncreated right then and there, you thought, you’d go happily.

“This is me,” he said after a few blocks traversed in comfortable silence. The building wasn’t new, but it wasn’t old either. It wasn’t exactly large, but it wasn’t small. It was just an apartment building in the city, nothing about it really stood out. Except that the Corinthian was opening the door and holding it for you, inviting you inside. And you were going inside, following him into the elevator as you imagined countless humans had done before you. The thought might have disturbed you if it had been anyone but him, but you trusted the nightmare with your very soul and knew that he trusted you in the same way. He would never hurt you, and you would never hurt him.

The elevator dinged, you followed him down the corridor. He opened the door, you followed him inside. He took your coat, the strange intimacy of the gesture sending shivers down your spine as you watched him hang it beside his own, letting your eyes linger on the perfect way his muscles moved under his skin, the smoothness and preciseness of each movement. Even if you didn’t know it was true, you’d have believed anyone who told you he was hand sculpted by a God. More than a God, in fact; an Endless.

“Take a seat. Can I get you another drink?” he asked as he moved to the kitchen, his fingers trailing lightly over the bench top.

“Sure,” you said, settling yourself on a stool. “Surprise me.”

He shot you another grin, deftly pouring a glass of wine as red as blood and sliding it across to you. You didn’t catch the label, but something about it made you think it was probably the fancy kind. The Corinthian loved fancy things, and he loved giving them to you. You remembered the Dreaming, how no matter where you went you were sure to find beautiful little gifts left for you in his wake. What you wouldn’t give to relive that time, when it had been you and him and nothing between you but space, which could easily be crossed.

He came around to your side of the bench, leaning against it with his own glass in hand. He watched you take a sip, satisfaction tugging at the corner of his mouth as you made a faint sound of pleasure. Yeah, you’d been right, this was the good stuff. He’d always liked seeing you receive things he gave you, another thing that didn’t seem to have changed.

“So,” he said after a few minutes’ silence in which you drank sip for sip, savouring the richly layered flavours and aromas.

“So,” you echoed. He was close enough that you could see every detail of him, and every detail of yourself reflected in those dark glasses, like two pools of black on his face. Even if you couldn't see his eyes – or mouths, you supposed – you could feel the intensity of his gaze, sending shivers down you spine. Then he leaned down, brushing your lips with his so lightly and quickly that you weren’t even sure he’d actually done it. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, blood rushing in your ears as he drew closer still, and this time you were sure. He kissed you with all the warmth and care that he always had, his lips silken as they’d always been against yours. The soft “clink” of his glass being set gently on the table barely registered with you as his hands slid up your thighs, over your hips, around your waist.

You pulled away softly, taking a moment to catch your breath and place your own drink far enough back on the counter that you weren’t at risk of knocking it over. The Corinthian watched you, a faint furrow marring his brow.

“Come here,” you said softly, holding out your hands to him. He pushed himself off the bench, standing directly before you in all his towering glory. You’d almost forgotten just how tall he was, but you were starkly reminded now. He let you place your hands on his face, sighing at the contact as you smiled. Just as he pressed his cheek into your palm, your fingers skirted deftly to his glasses. You hesitated, then at his near imperceptible nod, drew them away. You folded them neatly, slowly, setting them on the bench beside the two half drunk wine glasses. Then you turned back to him, smiling.

His face had been the second you ever saw, and as such, it would never be anything other than beautiful in your mind. He’d been there when Morpheus had breathed life into you, he’d been there in the beginning when you were learning how to live and he would be there at the end when you were finished, you were sure of it. Truth be told, you’d never really understood why he kept his glasses on even when it was just the two of you. When pressured, he simply shrugged and said “habit” in that nonchalant tone of his, but you saw the way he nearly cringed away from you the first time you’d removed the dark lenses. He was apprehensive even now, the idea that something in his very being could elicit such visceral reactions from humans – even you, nightmare as you were – deeply ingrained into his psyche. It wasn’t fair, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t resent Morpheus just a little. He hadn’t given either of you a choice in what you were, but at least you didn’t have to hide a part of yourself that was so significant as your eyes. They were the windows to the soul, after all.

“Beautiful,” you whispered, stretching up to place a kiss on each of his little mouths, then returning once more to his real mouth. He was smiling too, you could feel it. The whole thing was slow and warm and soft as your hands ran over his jaw, his cheeks, his neck, finally fixing in his soft hair. He was pulling you towards him, so hard you were almost entirely standing on the floor now, your butt just touching the stool you’d been sitting on.

“Come on,” he murmured between kisses, taking your hand. “I got somewhere better than the kitchen.”

You allowed him to lead you through a narrow doorway, down a short corridor and into a modest bedroom. You’d barely set foot through the door before he was on you again, hungrier and more insistent this time. You gave as good as you got, pushing him back across the carpeted floor until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down with a soft “oof”, pulling you with him. You settled into place as if you’d never left, straddling his hips with your hands tangled in the front of his shirt.

You attacked his neck with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, fighting not to moan yourself at the sounds he was making. The muscles of his throat flexed and twitched under your ministrations, a growing hardness forming where your hips met his. You ground softly against him, humming at the heat it conjured.

“Shit darlin’,” he groaned as you sucked at a spot right over his jugular. “You’re so, hm, good.”

“Hm?” you drew back, observing the scattering of dark marks you’d left on his skin before reattaching your lips to his own. He was yours, all yours. You pulled his hair lightly, stifling his moan with your mouth. He knew exactly what his words were doing to you.

“Take this off,” he whispered, tugging at your shirt.

“You do it,” you replied.

He drew back, stilling your hands. “Stand up,” he told you. “Stand up and take your clothes off.”

You paused for a moment, then smiled and did as he asked. “This is new,” you said as you shed layer after layer of your garments until you were bare and they were in a pile on the floor, watching his face carefully.

He shrugged. “I like watching humans do it, figured it’d be a million times better with you.”

“And?”

“I was right,” he grinned. Many people, you knew, would have felt self conscious in your position. Hell, you’d felt it when taking off your clothes in front of humans you took to your bed a few times, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be in your nature. You were a nightmare, a creature beyond them, and you had been crafted by an Endless just as the Corinthian had. But it had been there. Now, however, you felt a warm glow spread through you as his toothy gaze scanned your body, drinking it in like he was a man dying of thirst. You felt seen with him, for who you were.

You returned his grin, leaning forward to place your hands on his thighs. His fingers cupped your jaw, gently enough that you were still able to sink to your knees at the edge of the bed and begin undoing his belt buckle. You’d felt how hard he was sitting on his lap, and right now you wanted nothing more than the warm weight of his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you asked softly, your face inches from his crotch.

He didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on your hand. Or more specifically, the band of metal around your finger. “Still got it,” he whispered, almost in awe.

“Yeah,” you said, “of course I do.” The ring had been one of his many gifts, but it was perhaps your most treasured. He’d slipped it onto your finger back in the Dreaming as you lay against his chest, covering your hand with kisses. When you’d asked what it was he’d told you it was promise, though you’d never found out what the promise was for.

Now, he shook his head in wonder and smiled. You could’ve just sat and looked at that smile forever.

“So…?” you prompted instead, your hands still resting lightly on his crotch.

“Go ahead,” he told you. His fingers tangled gently in your hair as you took his dick in your hands, licking the tip ever so gently. “Stop teasing, sweetheart,” he said breathily.

“Magic word?” you murmured, your breath ghosting over his hot skin.

“Please,” he grunted. You smiled, licking your lips before sinking down on him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking.

“Alright?” you asked as he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair.

The Corinthian nodded. “Don’t stop.”

You nodded too, going down on him again. You were mindful of your teeth, instead using mostly your tongue and your hands where your mouth wouldn’t fit. He was familiar, this was familiar, but you would hate to choke on him because you were too enthusiastic about sucking him off. But you needn’t have worried, it was like listening to a song from when you were younger, the Corinthian’s heavy breathing and hand in your hair guiding you in the familiar movements. You could never forget this, no matter how much time had passed.

You let a moan escape you, which in turn made his hips jolt. You hummed again, and his hold on your hair tightened.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he whispered. “You look so good.”

That really made you moan, an embarrassingly desperate sound to accompany the embarrassingly desperate way your thighs rubbed together in search of any friction. He was driving you insane, and you were completely helpless.

You didn’t stop your increasingly messy sucking and licking, completely enraptured by the little breaths and gasps your attention was conjuring from the nightmare, revelling in his hand in your hair and the occasional curses or words of praise he let slip. You probably could have stayed there forever, listening to him forever, feeling his hot weight in your mouth forever, if he hadn’t brought his hand to your face and gently eased you off him. He surveyed your face carefully, running his thumb across your reddened and swollen lips.

“Hm?” you asked, parting your lips to allow his fingers into your mouth. You sucked lightly, keeping eye contact the whole time.

“Come up here,” he told you, patting his lap.

“If I get to take your clothes off,” you replied. “It’s hardly fair that I’m here naked and you look like you just walked in.” That was a gross exaggeration, between the hickeys on his neck and his dishevelled hair he certainly did not look like he'd just walked in.

“Just walked in, huh?” he raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at his rock hard dick shining with your spit.

“Maybe not just,” you yielded. “Either way, it’s not fair.”

“Cause you’ve always been so big on fair.” It came out as mocking, but there was softness in his face as he said it. Yes, you were big on fairness, something he knew very well. How many of your rants about what was fair had he endured? How many had he cut short with kisses, and how many more had he simply nodded along with until you were finished before producing some trinket or other that would distract you until the next slight of justice occurred?

Either way, he didn’t resist as you pulled his shirt over his head, and offered assistance when you eased his pants and underpants off his legs. Only when he was naked before you did you resume your earlier place straddling his hips. You ran your hands over his smooth, warm chest, down his arms, back up again and then down once more over the subtle planes of his stomach. His body reacted to your touch instinctively, goosebumps forming in the wake of your hands, his breath hitching in his throat.

Your insides clenched as he spat into his hand, adding to the wetness already coating his dick. He glanced at you, a silent “are you ready?”, then at your breathed “yes” and lifted hips, slid into you. It was like a missing piece had fallen into place. You’d had others in his absence, but what you’d said to him earlier had been true; they’d all paled compared to him. He fit inside you perfectly, a blissful stretch and familiar, beloved burn as your bodies adjusted to each other after too long apart.

He whispered your name like a prayer, lightly kissing your neck before settling in the hollow where it met your shoulder. “You feel too good,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I forgot how good you feel.”

“Me too,” you sighed, then rocked your hips over his. His fingers dug into your flesh as you moved, guiding you and bracing himself all at once. He continued to deliver the same wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck and collar bone as you’d given him earlier, leaving a trail of dark marks behind. Shit, how you’d missed those. Nothing could even come close to how he did this with you. Just as he was yours, you were his. All his and nobody else’s.

You reached between the two of you, touching yourself as the Corinthian’s dick slid seamlessly in and out of you, every movement an explosion of pure bliss. His teeth grazed your skin and you pressed your lips together, frantically stifling the moan that threatened to burst from you.

“Don’t try to be quiet,” he said. “I wanna hear you.”

“Ok,” you panted, breaking off in another moan. The sound seemed to spur him to go harder, faster, the warmth of his mouth on your neck combined with his hands on your hips and his cock in you almost too much to bear.

The sensation built in your stomach, gradually more and more until you felt a single tear leak from your eye. The Cotinthian was holding you so close to him he may as well have been trying to absorb your body into his, his sweat and spit mixing where his face was pressed into your shoulder as he frantically delivered more hickeys to your skin. You would be covered in them come morning. He whispered your name, every syllable like a prayer as it fell from his lips. He twitched inside you, and you shivered involuntarily.

“Yes,” you hissed, reaching down once more to touch yourself. He spilled with a curse inside you, his head falling back and his eyes closed. Fuck, he was gorgeous, and you’d brought him undone.

Your own climax flooded through you, all your muscles tensing together at once, a shuddering, desperate cry of his name torn from your throat. You rode him through your combined pleasure, until your legs were no longer shaking and his breathing had evened out.

Yet still, neither of you moved.

The Corinthian rested his forehead against your chest, his arms circling your waist. You held him, his hair tickling your face and neck where it brushed against you. He gently kissed over the dark marks he’d left on your skin, soothing and warm, and you let your lips rest against the silk of his hair. Even with sweat beeding his skin and the whole room smelling of sex, he still smelled good, like home. You couldn't get enough.

Eventually, he pulled out of you, lifting your boneless body onto the bed beside him. You whined at the loss of contact, but he simply smiled and assured you that he was just getting you a towel, that he’d be back in a minute. He kept his word, returning and gently wiping over your skin before sliding onto the mattress beside you.

You wriggled sideways, laying your head on his chest where you could feel his heart beating under your cheek. This was the part where most humans fell asleep, but you didn’t. You were a nightmare, and nightmares didn’t sleep.

The Corinthian’s arm snaked around you, his fingers lacing with your own. This, you thought, is what love must be like. You’d given the matter a lot of thought since you’d arrived in the Waking World and had come to the conclusion that Lord Morpheus probably hadn’t made you to love. You were to scare humans, force them to confront their fears and darker selves, not to love. Maybe dreams could, but you didn’t think it was something for nightmares.

Still, you’d devoured all the resources on the subject that you could. Humans didn’t seem to know what it was either, and had very different opinions on the matter. You wanted to love the Corinthian, and some would say that in itself was the real thing. Others would say that you loved him because you’d missed him so much, others still would say that you couldn’t love him because love was what made them human and you certainly were not human. Maybe it was love, maybe it wasn’t. But anyone who saw the two of you now, twined together so tightly you were nothing more than a mess of limbs would have thought it was.

“If we can…” you started, licking your lips, unsure of yourself. “If we can love, I love you.”

He was quiet for a moment, then he drew your hand to his lips and kissed it softly, running his fingers over the ring. “And I love you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to leave again,” you whispered.

“I won’t.” The Corinthian leaned over, flipping you onto your back and pressing your still linked hands into the mattress. “I promise,” he said, kissing you softly. “I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”

“Alright,” you replied. You kissed him, softly and sweetly, basking in the warmth of his body pressing down on you and pleasant heaviness of your own. If he ever asked you to go somewhere with him, you told yourself silently, you would. You’d never let him go again.

HOW HOT IS HE AND WHY IS HE THIS HOT it's genuinely unfair

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rosielou94 · 4 months

Text

Long Lonely Nights - Father Rudra Khatri x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of loneliness, injury to reader, discussion around religion, angst, fluff, slight NSFW, the smiling Creatures which should be an entire warning on their own

A/N: I binged watched seasons 1 and 2 of From in three days and never has a TV show terrified and hooked me as much as this one. I can’t find any Father Khatri content and that is criminal because that man is so sweet and underrated and didn’t deserve what happened to him! I’m hoping to make this into a series, so stay tuned.

Word Count: 2,687 (I got very carried away)

You’d been stuck in the Town for exactly 10 months, 3 weeks and 5 days; and you’d been in love with Father Rudra Khatri for exactly 10 months, 2 weeks and 5 days. As you ran through the forest, your blood pounding in your ears and the sound of those things, those monsters, slowly following you, you realised you’d never get to tell him how you felt.

You never should have gone for your run so late in the afternoon. You should have just skipped it and gone the next morning, but you’d been cooped up all day in the diner and you needed a release. You were paying for it now though. Tripping over the root of a tree, you’d fallen, hitting your head on a rock and rendering yourself unconscious. You had no idea how long you’d been out, but when you awoke, the sun was long gone, the forest eerily still and silent, allowing you to clearly hear the quiet laughter of the Creatures as they slowly moved in on you. They never hurried; they knew they’d catch you eventually, tearing you limb from limb until you were nothing but a mass of flesh and bones for your fellow survivors to clear away the next day.

“Come and play,” a soft voice cooed as you stumbled through the woods, your ankle flashing white hot with pain. You could feel dried blood caked to your face and hair, and fear coursed through your veins, spurring you on through the pain. The forest looked so different at night, and by the light of the pale moonlight, you struggled to find the markers you’d carved into the trees to help you find your way back to Town. The chance of anyone even letting you in was slim, so you hoped you made it back with enough of a head start on those things to find a place to hide. You pictured Father Kharti’s face as you ran, his wide smile and kind eyes spurring you on. He’d been your first friend when you arrived, showing you nothing but kindness. He’d held your hands the first few nights, when you were hiding in the underground den, shaking with silent sobs as the Creatures taunted you from above, trying to seek you out. Then Boyd found the talismans and Father Khatri got you set up in a house with a few other survivors. He always stopped by to see you, to make sure you were doing ok, and you’d never forgotten his kindness.

Tears of anger, sadness and pain stung at your eyes and then, by some miracle (or the Grace of God as Khatri would say), you saw the lights of the Town through the treeline. You were so nearly home. “You look tired,” a male voice called you to you, “why don’t you take a rest?” It was the man dressed as an ice cream vendor. You recognised his voice because he liked to stand outside your window at night, tapping on the glass, asking over and over again to be let inside. “Fuck you!” you screamed, picking up the pace as the lights grew nearer. “Hey now,” the man gently scolded, “we’re just trying to be nice.”

You broke through the treeline, the houses only a few hundred yards away. “Help me!” You screamed, “please, somebody let me in!” All the doors to the houses stayed firmly closed. “Please,” you begged, tears streaming down your blood-streaked face. “I fell in the woods, I’m hurt. Someone, just open your fucking door!” No one was coming to help you, you realised. Not that you blamed them, they were all terrified. If one of those things got in, everyone would be dead. “Please,” you sobbed, no longer screaming. You didn’t have the energy for that. You slowly turned, and the Creatures were less than 10 feet away. You didn’t have the energy to run, you were tired, your ankle and head were throbbing. No one made it out this place alive, and you were just the next one to go. You closed your eyes and waited for the inevitable.

“This way!” Father Khatri’s voice boomed out through the darkness and your eyes snapped open. The ice cream vendors hands were almost on you, and you threw yourself backwards, landing on the grass with a thud. You rolled forward, your arm stretched out wide, grabbing for the hand Father Khatri extended to you. “You came for me,” you cried, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as he half-carried, half-dragged you through the Town. “Of course, I came for you,” Father Khatri smiled, breathless. You could see the makeshift church up ahead and you pushed yourself forward. The Creatures were still taunting, still laughing and you refused to give them the satisfaction of being caught. The church was now only a few feet awake and Father Khatri grabbed the door handle, hauling you both inside.

You fell to the floor, every single part of your body screaming in pain. Father Khatri helped you up, sitting you down on one of the makeshift pews. “What happened to you?” he asked, brushing off the leaves and twigs that had clung to your clothes. “We were looking everywhere for you.” “I fell,” you whispered, trying to ignore the voices of the Creatures as they tapped at the windows. They’d be here all night now, trying to get you to come outside. “I went for a run after my shift at the diner and fell and hit my head in the forest. When I woke up it was already dark and those things-.” You broke off as a sob racked your body. You hadn’t been that close to death since your first night here and just like that first night, Father Khatri had saved you. “It’s ok, you’re safe now.” His arms were around you, the feel of his soft woollen cardigan comforting against your skin. His chin rested on your head, rubbing your back as you cried yourself into an exhausted sleep.

You woke a few hours later, in exactly the same position you’d fallen asleep in. Father Khatri’s arms were still around you, his cardigan wrapped around the both of you for warmth. His chin was still resting on your head, his breathing slow as he slept. Your ankle was agony, and your back was cricked lying in this awkward position, but you’d craved this kind of contact with the priest from the moment you set eyes on him. You didn’t dare move in case you woke him and broke the spell. The church was quiet and still, the stone walls and makeshift crosses that adorned them seeming welcoming and terrifying in equal measures. You wondered how Father Khatri managed the nights in here alone. The Creatures were still outside, tapping on the doors and windows, mimicking you with glee in their voices. “Someone help me, please. I fell,” said a female voice outside the door. You buried your head further into Khatri’s chest, willing those things to leave you alone, even just for a moment. You felt his arms wrap more tightly around you and heard Father Khatri sigh as he woke up. “They really are the workings of the devil,” he said, picking a small twig from your hair. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The warm embrace you’d dreamed of was cut short as he guided you into a sitting position. Grabbing a bowl of water and some clean rags, Father Khatri began to dab at the cut on your head. He used another rag to clean your tear-stained cheeks and then propped your ankle up on another chair. “I’ll take you to Kristi tomorrow to get it checked over,” he smiled, eyeing the angry purple bruise that had already started to form on your ankle. “Are you cold?” You were in nothing but running shorts and a t-shirt, and you nodded, hoping Father Khatri would wrap you up in his arms again. Instead, he pulled the blankets off his bed and wrapped you up in the soft sheets. “You should get some rest,” he smiled, reaching out as if to touch your face, but thinking better of it and the rubbing the palms of his hands against his jeans instead. “Can I ask you something?” you said, shifting your weight on the chair to better support your ankle. “Anything,” Father Khatri said, leaning forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his thighs. His salt and pepper hair and beard reflected off the candlelight around the room and you so badly wanted to reach out touch him, to see how his beard felt against your skin. Instead, you asked, “Do you get lonely at night?”

Khatri smiled. “I have God to keep me company,” he said simply. “I knew you’d say that,” you laughed, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself. “I know you have God, but He isn’t physically here with you. He can’t sit with you through the night when those things are tapping at your windows. He can’t hold you when you get scared. I know He gives you the strength to get through every night, but don’t you ever wish you had someone here with you physically?” You weren’t a religious person, you never had been, but you respected the views of those who were. You knew Father Khatri took his faith very seriously, but surely men of the cloth got lonely too. “Yes,” Father Khatri said, after a period of silence. “Yes, I do get lonely. The nights are long and although God is always with me, I do sometimes wish I had someone here with me in person.” You nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek as you wondered what to say next.

“Do you get lonely?” he asked, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You locked eyes, the look of kindness in his soft brown eyes making you melt. “All the time,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from tears you didn’t want to shed. You lived with a couple, Paula and Reggie and they were nice enough, but they got to hold each other at night when they were scared. You clung to your pillow, trying to drown out the noises from the Creatures, desperately wishing you had someone to hold. And on the nights where you could hear Paula and Reggie through the thin walls, their soft moans audible as they made love, you wish you had Father Khatri next to you, holding you and taking the fear and pain away as he kissed you. You imagined his hands on your body, the feel of his beard gently scratching your skin as he kissed his way down your neck and across your chest. But after you’d played out your fantasy, you were pulled back into the harsh reality of being completely alone.

As you and Father Khatri stared at each other in the silence of the church you thought of how close you’d come to death tonight. When you thought you were going to die, he was the person you thought of. You had no idea how long you had left in this Town, how long anyone had left. The only thing you were certain of was that no one got out of here alive. If you’d died tonight, you’d have died regretting not telling him how you felt. You needed to let him know, even if he didn’t feel the same. “Can I tell you something?” You shifted in your seat again, clearing your throat. “Tonight – tonight I really thought I was going to die. I shouldn’t have made it back here, but by some miracle I did. And I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that it was the Grace of God, or it was God’s will that I made it back alive, but it wasn’t. The only reason I’m still here is because the whole time I was running, I was thinking of you. I was thinking of those first nights when you held my hand all night and kept me calm. How, even after the talismans were discovered and we could sleep safely at night at the houses, you still checked on me every day. I was thinking of how you make me laugh with your stupid jokes, and how you can be so kind and caring and put the whole Town before yourself. I get so lonely at night, I almost miss being stuck in those tunnels fearing for our lives, because at least I got to be stuck with you.” You sucked in a shaking breath, your heart pounding. Father Khatri was staring intently at you, his expression unreadable. “I guess what I’m trying to say, is that I love you.” You looked down at the floor of the church, the silence crushing. Even the Creatures had stopped tapping at the windows.

Father Khatri was quiet for a long time, and now that the realisation of what you’d said had set in, you were seriously considering opening up the door and heading out into the night to be ripped apart. Why had you said anything? What wasn’t he saying anything? You peeked a glance at the man in front of you. Father Khatri was sat with his hands clasped in his lap, his head bent. You pinched the skin on your thigh, hoping beyond all hope that this was some kind of nightmare and that you’d wake up in your bed, alone but embarrassment free. Finally, Father Khatri cleared his throat. “I was just thinking of the time we were hiding in the bunker. You were having a panic attack and to calm you down, I asked you what your favourtie song was. Do you remember what you said?” “Yes, I said it was Yellow by Coldplay.” That moment was forever etched into your brain. “That’s right.,” He said. “And I started singing to you, and you – you started laughing. And that’s the moment I knew I loved you. Your laugh was the single most beautiful thing I’d heard in my life.”

You laughed then, tears of joy spilling down your cheeks. You pulled each other in close, the embrace a little awkward on the flimsy plastic chairs. “That was when I fell in love with you too,” you smiled, your lips gently brushing against Khatri’s. “I was so scared, and as soon as you started singing, I couldn’t help but laugh.” “Why?” Father Khatri brushed a tear away from your cheek and you smiled. “Because your singing voice was the single worst thing I’d heard in my life. So off-pitch.” You squealed as he pulled you onto his lap, ignoring the pain in your ankle. You held his face in your hands as you bent your head towards his. “I’ve never… been with…” Father Khatri trailed off and laughed nervously. “I’ve never kissed someone before.” His life as a Priest and man of God hadn’t allowed him the pleasures of romantic love. But Father Khatri had been put in this Town for a reason. God had led him here, he was sure of it, and now he was sure God had led him to you. “It’s ok,” you smiled, “we can take our time.” You had at least another 5 hours until the sun came up. Plenty of time to practice.

Your lips met, gently and timid at first, as Father Khatri got used to the sensation. You held each other in the dim candlelight of the church, your soft moans echoing off the walls as your kiss intensified. You weren’t going to rush him; this was all new to Father Khatri and you were well out of practice. “Father Khatri,” you whispered, as his fingers gripped your hips. “You should probably start calling me Rudra,” he smiled, pulling back and looking into your eyes. “The things I’ve thought about doing to you? Very unpriestly.” You laughed as he deepened the kiss, his hands caressing your back, hips and waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling as he kissed you because for the first time in 10 months 3 weeks and 5 days, you no longer felt alone.

#father khatri #father khatri x reader #rudra khatri #father rudra khatri x reader #from epix #from tv

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im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons · 7 months

Text

Day 1: Leather

Warnings: none

Rating: E

Pairing: Boyd x Jimmy

Jimmy can’t stop staring.

He knows he’s being obvious. Rip’s already shot him one or two knowing glances – warnings, really, even if they’re friendly ones – but he can’t help it. It’s not even his fault. It’s Boyd’s. It’s… it’s always Boyd’s.

Usually it’s the curve of his waist under his vest that draws Jimmy’s eye, or the flex of his bare forearms when he’s got his sleeves rolled up all nice and tidy. Sometimes it’s the velvet-over-steel cadence of his voice that makes Jimmy look up and makes it impossible for him to look away, and sometimes it’s just the presence he brings into a room. But it’s always something.

Today it’s the gloves.

Jimmy’s never seen them before, but they’re not new. The leather’s been broken in, doesn’t creak when Boyd flexes his fingers. And they fit well, tight but not constricting; Jimmy knows this because he hasn’t been able to take his damn eyes off them all day long.

He’s not even sure what it is. Something about the look of them, the way Boyd’s hands look when he’s illustrating whatever story he’s spinning, it’s got Jimmy entranced. Every time the light catches the leather, his mouth goes a little drier – and his pants get a little tighter.

It’s embarrassing, is what it is. Jimmy knows he’s got better control than that – he’s had to, living where he does, liking what he does. He’s careful. But as soon as he signed on with Boyd, his brain saw fit to throw all that care right out the window, replacing it with a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach he can’t seem to shake.

It’s inevitable, really, that Boyd notices.

They’re alone in the bar, the two of them. Jimmy’s behind the counter, putting away glasses, and Boyd is seated at one of the tables, facing the door, with Jimmy squarely at his back. (And maybe Jimmy’s noticed that Boyd doesn’t let people behind him, will twist and turn and finagle to keep them in front of him and do it all so smoothly they think that’s where they wanted to be in the first place. Maybe he’s noticed Boyd doesn’t take the same care with him, and maybe that hasn’t done much of anything for that twisting feeling he always gets around the man.)

Boyd doesn’t even look up from the phone in his hand when he says it – doesn’t give any indication that he’s been aware of what’s happening behind him. He just says, “You go at that glass any harder and you’re apt to polish a hole right through the bottom.”

Jimmy freezes, glass and towel in hand, suddenly aware that he’s been drying the same one for far, far longer than is entirely plausible. He swallows, casting around in his mind for an excuse that doesn’t sound nearly as incriminating as sorry, boss, your hands are distracting – but before he can get too into it, Boyd rises, turns to face him.

“In case you were wondering,” Boyd says, his voice smooth like good whiskey, “that was me telling you to put it down, son.”

The glass clatters on the counter when Jimmy sets it down, and between one breath and another Boyd is behind the bar with him, in his space, close enough that Jimmy can smell his cologne. Close enough that Jimmy’s first instinct is to take a step back, stumbling a little as his heart rate kicks up a notch.

“Sorry, boss,” he begins, but Boyd just cocks a hip against the counter and raises one eyebrow.

“Don’t recall mentioning anything you have to be sorry for.” Boyd looks him up and down – slow, not like he’s giving Jimmy a visual frisking, but like… like he’s just looking. Jimmy feels that familiar heat pool in his stomach, feels a blush steal over his face to match.

“I was just–” The first part of the sentence comes out rushed – and the second just doesn’t come out at all. Jimmy closes his mouth with a click, trying to ignore the way a secretive little smile steals across Boyd’s face, like somehow he’s in on the secret Jimmy is trying so desperately to keep.

“Just…?” Boyd prompts, and then shakes his head when all Jimmy can do is work his throat, trying to swallow against a mouth that’s suddenly desert dry. “It’s all right. This ain’t my first time around this particular block.”

When Jimmy just blinks, Boyd’s smile widens, pulling at the corners of his eyes in the way that makes him look safe, friendly. “I know when a boy’s got his eye on me, son.”

"And what if I did?" Jimmy's voice comes out braver than he feels, only a little shaky around the edges. "If I… if I did have my eye on you. What then?"

Boyd huffs a soundless laugh, his eyes looking Jimmy over like he's reassessing him. And, from where Jimmy's standing, Boyd doesn't look altogether displeased by what he finds. "Well," he drawls, the Harlan in his voice a little heavier than it was a moment ago. "Well, now, I'd have to wonder what it was that caught your attention."

Jimmy can't help it. His eyes flick down to where one of Boyd's hands is braced against the counter, black leather against dark wood. Boyd's, "Oh," of understanding is more whisper than anything else, but Jimmy still hears it, still feels it like a hit to the solar plexus.

"Today," he manages, because it feels important that Boyd know, truly. "It's those, today."

"And every other day?"

Jimmy flushes. He can feel it, the way his cheeks heat, the way the back of his neck prickles. It's embarrassing, but it's a thought that's far away, paling under the intensity of Boyd's gaze. "Just you," he says, keeping his voice steady. "Every other day, it's just you, Boyd."

Maybe it's the way Boyd's fingers flex against the counter, almost like he's showing off a little. Maybe it's the way his stare goes molten at the sound of his name. Maybe it's because Jimmy's associated Boyd with safety almost as long as he's known the man, or maybe it's something else entirely. Whatever it is, it makes Jimmy's feet stay firmly rooted when Boyd moves closer, this time.

For a minute, at least. He goes easy when Boyd crowds him against the counter, lets himself be trapped there more than willingly. It's where Boyd wants him, and that's enough.

And then Boyd goes and says, “There’s a good boy,” and Jimmy goes from being a little uncomfortably turned on to achingly aroused.

It doesn’t get any better when Boyd’s gloved fingertips trace over the cut of his jaw, sweet and soft. Jimmy can’t help but shiver. It’s all the things he never let himself want all at once, and it might be overwhelming if he had the ability to think at all.

“Open.”

Boyd’s voice is soft, but the command is unmistakable. Jimmy obeys, because that’s what he’s hardwired to do where Boyd is concerned, letting his mouth fall open almost before he realizes what he’s doing. He flushes again, or maybe just harder, not quite sure if his cheeks ever stopped being pink.

Boyd raises his hand, and there’s a part of Jimmy that expects to be pushed – gently, he’s sure – to his knees. There’s a bigger part that knows he won’t fight it, that he’ll go as easy as he did when Boyd backed him against the counter.

But Boyd’s hand doesn’t go to his shoulder.

Two leather-clad fingers slip past Jimmy’s lips, coming to rest lightly on his tongue. Immediately, his mouth waters at the taste of dust and leather and oil, at the heat he can feel radiating out from Boyd’s skin through the gloves.

He knows what he wants, now. He wants to close his lips around Boyd’s fingers and tongue the leather, wants to show Boyd that he’d be good, if he did get on his knees.

But before he can figure out how to ask, Boyd’s fingers shift, not fucking his mouth like Jimmy expects, but petting gently over his tongue. The touch has his cock throbbing in his jeans, has a moan rising in his throat before he can stop it. Boyd’s fingers falter, but only for a moment – and when Jimmy looks up, half needy, half nervous, all he can see is how dark Boyd’s eyes are. Like… like Jimmy’s not the only one affected by their predicament.

“Suck,” Boyd says quietly, and Jimmy’s head spins.

He does it, though, closes his mouth around Boyd’s fingers and sucks. And it’s nothing, barely a tease of what he could have, but it’s Boyd. Boyd’s fingers, Boyd’s gloves, Boyd’s body pressed firmly against his own.

It’s too much, that’s what it is.

One of Boyd’s denim-clad thighs makes itself at home between Jimmy’s legs, the pressure just on the right side of painful. Jimmy keens around Boyd’s fingers, squirming uselessly between the solid counter behind him and the solid man in front of him. There's nowhere for him to go, nothing to do except stand there and take it and–

Boyd sucks in a sharp little breath, says, "Goddamn, son," so reverently it almost sounds like a prayer, and that's it. Jimmy’s hips hitch once against Boyd’s thigh, and then he’s coming hard, pulsing in his pants as his hands come up to cling a little desperately at Boyd’s shoulders.

“There you go,” Boyd murmurs, and Jimmy whimpers as the aftershocks make him a little weak in the knees. Like he knows, Boyd shifts, curling one arm around Jimmy’s waist and giving him something to lean into. Jimmy can feel the leather of Boyd’s glove against his skin, right where his shirt has ridden up, and he’s spent but it still makes him shiver, makes his eyelashes flutter just a little.

Slowly, Boyd’s fingers slip from his mouth. Jimmy swallows the whine that rises up, his embarrassment returning now that everything’s not cloudy with want and he’s got come cooling in his pants. He licks his lips, something like an apology half-formed in the back of his throat, but Boyd just squeezes his hip, steady and reassuring.

“Been wanting to see how you look when you come apart like that for too damn long,” he says, and oh, well, maybe the apology isn’t needed after all.

Find this fic on AO3 here:

#justified #boyd crowder #jimmy tolan #boyd/jimmy #kinktober 2023 #hello justified fandom I come bearing tongue-petting and boys with a hair trigger #timothy olyphant walton goggins jacob pitts jesse luken you’ve ruined my life #(affectionate)#I haven't been on tumblr since 2015 #the nostalgia is real

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pretendfan · 7 months

Text

{I need you}

🖤Raylan Givens x Winona Hawkins🖤

{S1 episode12: The time when Winona visits Raylan late one night at his motel room, reimagined with more smut and conversation between the characters}

A/N: This is exactly what happens when I start watching a new show and I get invested, this is just a practice story of getting used to writing Raylan, none of this was asked for or probably makes sense but here it is🤣Givens brainrot💀but that gif thou “he gimme that look, the panties coming off…”

{Warnings: 18 plus ONLY, nothing but net smut, if harlequin romance wrote smut, cheesy but hot, loosely based on scene from season one, teasing, oral sex (both parties), p in v, happy endings, minor argument}

🖤3.1k🖤

Wrestling with the idea of either closing his eyes for a quick rest, or refilling his glass with more bourbon, Raylan Givens makes his choice then instantly regrets it when he hears a soft knock at his door.

There were few people who knew of the US Marshal’s whereabouts at this motel, he was just out of Harlan but Raylan knew that folk talked, so anyone could be here for a little chit chat on someone else’s behalf right now to try and put the wind up him.

…Raylan Givens had a lot of enemies, but he wouldn’t have it any other way, enjoying the chase was a perk of his job amongst others of course.

Being back in Kentucky for too long already he wondered again who it was calling at this late hour, taking a generous gulp of his drink he puts the tumbler down, hoping the visitor behind the door at least was a friendly one as he gets up from his bed.

What with Boyd and his dad Bo up to their usual bullshit, whilst Arlo was still performing his old tricks as well, and then there was Ava who was currently giving him the cold shoulder. These thoughts causing Raylan to grab his gun by the bedside table, just in case, because it could be absolutely anyone waiting to speak with him.

Sure he had a name for himself being both quick to judge and on the draw, gun happy he wasn’t Raylan just knew when to shoot first, defusing a situation with one glance which was exactly how he had ended up here back in his hometown.

Shaking these ridiculous thoughts from his mind Raylan slowly opens the motel door, and is shocked to see his ex wife, but the moment passes when he swiftly ushers her inside the room.

Quickly trying to gage the look on Winona’s face but even after all this time, he couldn’t help but stare down at her and get lost in those damn blue eyes, the ones that had watched him leave time and time again.

“What’s happened-“

“It’s nothing, I shouldn’t even be here.” Winona states looking away from Raylan, eyeing the door like she had just made a huge mistake.

“Is it your husband Gary again-“

“Are you surgically attached to that damn hat of yours?” Winona asks with a laugh cutting off her ex husband, whose dark brown eyes are rewarding her with a heavy stare.

“Is that why you’re here to talk about my damn hat!”Raylan stops talking when he looks down, to see Winona removing the gold wedding band from her left hand.

“I’m here for you.” Winona explains eyes wide as she glances at Raylan, who in turn removes his hat from his head revealing dark dishevelled hair.

“Clearly but why is that-“ Raylan starts to ask but is cut off, when Winona takes a single step forward, and then she kisses him purposefully on the lips.

Raylan leans closer into the embrace unsure where to place his hands, so he puts one on Winona’s right hip ever so gently, causing her to entwine both of her hands into his white tank top with a tight grip.

Moments later she pulls away like a skittish animal placing a hand over her lips, watching Raylan whose brown eyes are trained on her causing Winona to smile widely despite herself.

“That-“

“Shouldn’t have happened.” Cuts in Winona with a quick nod, whilst trying to keep her voice firm but it’s no good, she knew exactly why she was here and resisting was never her strong point.

“Well it looks like you enjoyed it.” Raylan informs Winona with a smirk on his handsome face, him moving nearer to his ex wife who looked like she also wanted to have some fun.

Raylan remembered the signs and seeing how Winona was breathing heavily, eyes gliding over his form, whilst her hands were balled tightly into fists he knew that he was moments away from providing her with some relief.

“I know why you are here.” Raylan states with a smug smile unable to look away, watching as Winona undoes the belt around her long pea green coat which makes him momentarily forget how to breathe.

“I need you.” Winona declares in a soft voice as he watches her pull off her coat, revealing black lace underwear to match those black heels which were in fact driving him wild.

Raylan didn’t need to be told twice as he tipped his head to kiss Winona, who invited him back in tongue and all as they made out almost like desperate teenagers, whilst he guided her onto the edge of his bed.

Standing in front of Winona he looks down to watch her hands make short work of his belt, closely followed by his pants zip as Raylan shrugs off his white tank top, then pulls gently on the back of her hair to remove the clip that resided there.

Looking up from her task in hand Winona smiles up at Raylan, who was taking in her curly brown hair spread across her shoulders, and the curve of her breasts in that lacy bra that should be on his motel floor by now.

Reaching a hand round her back to unclip said item of clothing, Raylan gives Winona a confused glance when she moves his hand away, a playful look bringing out the pretty features on her face.

“My turn first.” Winona states with a bite of her bottom lip as she uses both hands, to free Raylan from the confines of his pants, eliciting a warm groan from his mouth as she takes his thick cock in her right hand.

With her thumb circling around the head of his cock Winona grips her hand tighter around Raylan, who she notices has his mouth parted gently, whilst his eyes are watching her every move so it was time to put on a show.

Removing her hand suddenly Winona continues to look up at Raylan, who was hard and ready but she just wanted to tease him a little first, spreading kissing from the top of his thighs to that damn V shaped muscle he had silhouetted on either side of his hips.

Raylan’s whole body jerks when Winona finally licks the head of his penis, then opening her mouth starts to take him with the help of her tongue and the muscle memory of doing this many times before.

When he is as deep in her mouth as he could go, Winona hears groaning from Raylan as he strokes the back of her head, and she continues to lick the underside of his cock whilst sucking hard on his full firm length.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” Raylan hisses as he places another hand on Winona’s head, which makes her start to suck sloppily as he guides her, his breath quickening which causes his thighs to shake.

Winona doesn’t relent she wants to suck him dry as she continues her tempo, re introducing her hand to grip onto his length until a moment or two later the hot sting of his release hits the back of her throat.

The noises and soft swearing that escapes from Raylan’s lips make Winona groan, swallowing his seed and not missing a drop of the salty nectar, until he gently pulls her away from him.

“Wow.” Raylan declares followed by another slew of curse words until he then states “Now it’s my turn.”

“I’m the one making-“

“Stand up.” Raylan cuts Winona off in a deep authoritative voice, that has her doing exactly as she was damn told for once whilst he steps out of his pants.

Mouths entwined once again Raylan gently pushes Winona onto the bed, she complies and lays down on her back hair spread angelically behind her, but the look on her face told a completely different story.

Raylan places a hand on either side of her head as he hovers above Winona, who he sees still has that look on her face the one that always got him into bed, but now it was his turn to make her lose all control.

Tracing kisses down her front Raylan stops at one of her breasts, following the curve with his tongue causing Winona to arch her back in response, covering his mouth over her nipple still encased in the bra which briefly annoys him.

Treating the other breast with the same respect, Raylan focuses on the task at hand unable to resist pinching her nipple, which causes Winona to gasp as their eyes lock and he grins back looking cocky.

“I still know what you like.” Teases Raylan with a dark chuckle.

“Well stop talking and put that mouth to work then.” Winona states with a lick of her bottom lip.

“Yes ma’am.” Raylan nod with a smile reconnecting his lips to bare skin, as he lowers his head and traces kisses, down south towards Winona’s belly button pausing to look up and see her watching him very carefully.

Placing his hands on her hips Raylan holds Winona in place, brown eyes focused on the black lace underwear tracing the fabric with his thumbs, whilst letting out a hot breath that he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding.

“Ass up beautiful.” Raylan demands watching as Winona silently does what he asks of her again, letting him pull down the underwear to reveal heaven as he almost forgets what he was in fact doing.

Winona kicks away the second to last item of clothing, whilst Raylan moves backwards off the bed to settle on the ugly motel carpet, on his knees naked as the day he was born but with a wide smile on his face.

Moving closer Raylan starts to kiss Winona’s soft inner thigh, but not without using his tongue on the other side, he liked to do things properly eyes darkening as he takes in her pussy and like a man possessed he darts out his tongue.

Licking along her pussy lips with a purpose as his mouth meets her clit, the tip of his tongue teasing the bud of delight when he hears Winona sigh, like sweet music to his ears causing his cock to jerk in response.

It’s when he covers his whole mouth over the throbbing peak of nerves, that Winona cries out hands launching out to grab onto anything, catching one of his muscled arms and forehead as she lifts up off the bed.

“You need to stay still.” Raylan states lifting his head up to see Winona with glazed eyes, biting her bottom lip so sharply he was sure he would soon see blood.

“What if I don’t?” Winona asks with an arched eyebrow aimed in her ex husbands direction.

“I will stop-“

“Fine by me I don’t need you, I know what I like.” Winona retorts flippantly always on the defensive with Raylan, even during sex it seemed but this time she knew she was right.

Raylan watches with a choked breath as Winona uses her right hand to spread her wet lips, showing him exactly how she liked it with those lithe fingers of hers, which was a sight to behold but he desperately wanted to taste her again.

“You just keep those magic fingers of yours there.” Raylan informs Winona grabbing her wrist to move her hands upwards.

Watching as she places two tips of her fingers over that pretty pink bud, Raylan’s cock leaking from the sight but he uses his own fingers this time, watching as he pushes one inside of her pussy then uses his tongue to taste her delicious sweetness once again.

“Holy shit!” Winona whines as she moves her left hand from Raylan’s forehead to his thick hair, tugging at the front which causes him to grunt back but carry on devouring her pussy regardless.

Introducing a second finger Raylan feels Winona’s fingers rubbing harder over her clit, he could sense she was getting close especially when her pussy gripped his fingers even tighter, making him wish she was riding his cock right this second.

Pushing her hand away Raylan quickly covers his mouth once more over her mound, tongue exploring the sweet yet tangy flavour, groaning when he feels Winona yank his hair harder at the very same time that she finds her release.

Raylan rides out Winona’s orgasm with his mouth firmly attached to her pussy, his tongue feeling her walls spasm as she soaked his face with her juices, until she is yanking his head away by his hair taking deep breaths as she finally lays still.

“That was-“

“Think you could fuck me?” Winona ask with a wry smile, when she sees what Raylan is packing, his penis which was cocked and ready for some action.

“What do you think?” Raylan questions but not waiting for an answer, as he drops onto the bed manoeuvring himself, so Winona was now on top of him.

Raylan watches in awe as Winona finally removes the lace bra to reveal her breasts, arching himself up so he could finally taste her nipples, enjoying the feeling of them hardening on his tongue.

Placing his hands on top of her thighs to hold her down, feeling the head of his cock brush against Winona’s wet lips causing him to rock his hips, then curse as she lowers herself onto his shaft hands moving to her waist instead gripping tightly.

“Good girl, taking me so well.” Raylan states when Winona is fully seated on him, eyes closed whilst her hands hold firm onto his broad shoulders.

“Can I ride you now?” Winona asks opening her eyes to reward him with a sexy wink.

“Like a rodeo horse use me however you want, because I have got the best seat in the house.” Raylan laughs teasingly but the sound soon fades, when he feels Winona start to move on his hard cock.

Moving her hands from Raylan’s shoulders she slides them down the hard plains of his chest, feeling his muscles spasm under her palms as his chest hair tickles her fingers, but right now she was more interested in being fucked the good old fashioned way.

Winona cups her breasts with her hands noticing the look on Raylan’s face, so she continues to play which he clearly appreciates, because he starts to desperately thrust upwards causing him to hit her sweet spot over and over.

This causes Winona’s pussy muscles to clamp down hard on his cock, with Raylan clenching his teeth together because he was being milked, and he wasn’t going to last much longer so he speeds up which makes her cry out above him.

“I’m coming!” Winona shouts as she places her hands back, onto Raylan’s now damp chest, as she feels her orgasm rinse her body dry and a various array of noises escape from her mouth.

Pretty soon Raylan finds himself following Winona as he jerks his hips once more, then feels his release as he chases his high shallow thrusts causing Winona to groan, until he finally relaxes back down on the bed.

“Did I just make you meow?” Raylan asks Winona continuing before she can reply “I’ve never made a woman meow before!”

“And you still haven’t-“

“Are you sure?” Raylan asks cutting off Winona with a laugh, as he opens his arms wide and she moves off him, welcoming his embrace in the heat of the moment.

“Definitely sure Raylan.” Winona smiles as she catches him staring at her, suddenly feeling safe in his arms burying her head in his neck for extra comfort.

Silence ensues as both parties are lost in their own thoughts, still holding each other close as if it was all they had, because in some ways they always seemed to find one another each and every time.

Moments later Winona breaks away from Raylan’s arms, avoiding the look on his face as she gets up from the lumpy bed, attempting to locate her underwear in the dimly lit room.

“One for the road?” Raylan asks causing Winona to look up eyes wide, but then she rolls them after spotting him point at the bottle of bourbon on his bedside table.

“Shouldn’t you have offered me a damn drink first?” Winona questions with a smirk getting dressed back into her underwear, she then locates her heels and steps into them.

“Maybe next time-“

“Raylan.” Winona warns whilst putting her pea green coat back on, then placing a hand into her pocket to retrieve the gold wedding band putting it back onto her left hand.

“What did I say now?” Raylan begins with a snort sitting up on the bed, watching as Winona wraps herself away in her coat then gives him one to those looks like he was in trouble.

“You haven’t said anything-“

“You were the one to come round here and see me!” Raylan cuts off Winona in a stern tone which she didn’t appreciate right now.

“Well you were very quick to turn me away weren’t you?” Retorts Winona raising her voice because she hated to be told facts that she already knew.

“Let’s not kid ourselves here-“

“No, we shouldn’t because this was nothing and I need to go!” Winona declares with a look that signalled this was all over.

“Fine by me!” Raylan shrugs as he watches Winona stare at him once more, a small smile on her face but then she quickly turns to leave, causing him to share a vacant grin with his motel room.

Trouble in the homestead he didn’t care about, but all Raylan knew was that he was a better man than Gary, yet Winona hadn’t stayed with him which still hurt more than it should’ve even after all these years.

Winona was the only woman to have such a chokehold on him, even now as he let her walk away feeling like a loser all over again, knowing that he would need to talk to his ex wife about this at a later date.

For now though he just needed to locate his pants and finish off his drink, in that order maybe treating himself to a couple more shots, because he was now wide awake and all he could smell was his ex wife’s perfume on his bedsheets.

What unfolded had been fun of course it was exactly what he needed most nights, but Raylan was left wanting more something unheard of normally, but Winona always knew how to play with his heart.

Pants back on Raylan finishes his drink in one swift gulp, then pours himself another which follows the same demise, until he lays back down on his bed grabbing his hat to place back over his face.

…because he definitely wasn’t answering again if anyone else knocked on his damn door.

#raylan givens #raylan x winona #justified fx #justified fanfic #timothy olyphant #nothing but smut #reimagined scene #timothy olyphant is such a babe

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mereking · 9 months

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location: their apartment tagging: boyd connors (@boyd-connors)

Meredith had gotten off work early and decided that she needed a very hot and long bubble bath. Boyd hadn't been home when she got there so she found herself enjoying the quiet whispers of the playlist that she had on her phone while nursing a glass of wine. It had to have been at least an hour when she heard the pitter patter of footsteps coming down the hall. She had to drag herself out of the bath and quickly got dressed in her orange robe. Steam illuminated off of her body and her hair still damp as she made her way into Boyd's room, plopping down onto his bed. "Tell me something good," she whispered, her hands resting on her stomach but her gaze moving to his.

#boyd #interaction

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quotes121sworld · 1 year

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Bam Margera was summoned by the police and thrown out of the Hollywood hotel hours before his arrest #BamMargera

The embattled Bam Margera was thrown out of a Hollywood hotel room after police were called - just hours before his arrest for public intoxication on Wednesday.TMZ reports the Jackass star, 43, who has dealt with substance abuse problems and violent behavior in recent years had reportedly called police to his room at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel just before noon after screams were reported coming from the bedroom.The caller was said to be concerned about possible domestic violence - police spoke to Margera and a woman who was in the room. The star was on the phone with his ex and "things got hot."It is understood neither party had any signs of injury and no one wanted to make a report - Margera and his girlfriend were asked to leave the hotel.DailyMail.com has reached out to Bam Margera's representatives for comment.

Out of control: The embattled Bam Margera was thrown out of a Hollywood hotel room after police were called – just hours before his arrest for public intoxication on Wednesday

Tough times: This comes after it was revealed that Margera's estranged wife is considering seeking a restraining order for their child after he was arrested.; The couple is seen in January 2013This comes after it was revealed that Margera's estranged wife is considering seeking a restraining order for their child following his arrest. The 43-year-old Jackass star's wife, Nikki Margera, is exploring whether she can seek legal protection against him following his recent stand-off with the law TMZ on Friday.A source told the publication that she hopes to file the legal motion to protect her and her five-year-old son, Phoenix.She told the site that Wednesday's incident was "scary for me and even more scary for Phoenix," adding that it was a shame because "the visit Bam had to Hollywood with Phoenix the day before went pretty well." “.Nikki claimed her famous husband arrived at the restaurant drunk and aggressive on Wednesday, as she explained: "This is the umpteenth time that Bam has taken one step forward and ten steps back."Her attorney, David Glass, told TMZ that they tried to work with Bam to set up regular visits for their child, but since that's dependent on him staying sober and treating Nikki with respect, it didn't quite happen.This comes after the former television personality — Who has dealt with substance abuse problems and violent behavior in recent years – got into an argument with a woman at the restaurant, law enforcement officials said TMZ.Police were reportedly called to a Thai restaurant around 3:45 p.m. and Margera was said to be in a row with the woman, which escalated after officers arrived.Despite police intervention, Margera reportedly couldn't control himself, so he was arrested and charged with the offense of public intoxication.In video of the confrontation, filmed by comedian Evan Breen, the former pro skateboarder was seen walking back in and out of the restaurant after police arrived. At the request of an officer, he sat down on the ground in the parking lot, and although his conversation with the officer could not be heard, he waved his arms and gestured wildly. The arrest may have been preceded by some sort of family drama, as Margera's estranged wife, Nikki Boyd, and their five-year-old child, Phoenix, were both at the restaurant, according to a local witness.However, police did not clarify whether he was fighting with his ex or whether it was another woman.

Family first: A source told the publication that she hopes to file the legal petition to protect her and her five-year-old son, Phoenix

Legal issues: Bam was arrested Wednesday at a Burbank restaurant after a confrontation with a woman, law enforcement officials told TMZ; Pictured 2019The sources added that Margera will be forced to pay $500 to get an early release on bail unless he chooses to remain behind bars until sobering up.The Jackass star's public controversy escalated earlier this month when he was arrested on domestic violence charges.The Viva La Bam star was arrested after police responded to a home in Escondido, California, where a woman claimed he kicked her TMZ.The alleged victim was not named, but she is reportedly Margera's current girlfriend and not his ex. He was released on $50,000 bail, although the local district attorney said no charges were being filed against him.After Margera quickly posted bail, Boyd's attorney claimed he hadn't supported her for two months, leaving her "without a car, without money" and at risk of eviction.

Family affair: Margera's estranged wife Nikki Boyd (pictured) and son Phoenix, five, were at the restaurant but it's not known if she was the woman he yelled at; seen in 2013

Deeper in trouble: The Donkey star was arrested on domestic violence charges earlier this month for allegedly kicking a woman when it was his new girlfriend and not his ex

Over the top: Last week he revealed he had his son's name tattooed on his face in Arabic to remind Boyd that "she breaks my heart by not letting me see him".She filed for divorce from Margera in February this year after claiming he wasn't sober while visiting his son.She has filed for legal and physical custody of Pheonix, although she says Margera should continue to have supervised visits with his son in the Los Angeles area.The Jackass star tried to show his commitment to Phoenix last week by taking the extreme step of tattooing his son's name on his face in Arabic."I miss Phoenix the wolf so much I had to get his name tattooed on my frigging face to remind Nikki that she breaks my heart by not letting me see him," he claimed on Instagram. Read the full article

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filmshady · 4 months

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please tell me you shed more tears during Logan's farewell than during your last breakup?

I would have to say that both contained the same amount of litres of tears...Logan's farewell was a sad potion, and my break-up was a rage-infused tonic.

#boyd holbrook #the corinthian #the sandman #netflix #donald pierce #logan #logan movie #wolverine #he’s so hot #he’s my bbg #he’s never done anything wrong in his life #BOYD IS SO HOT GLASSES OR NOT #he surely looked good in this 😏#logan 2017 #sarahspostslogan

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jcboydcustombuilders · 1 year

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What are the Benefits of Building a Custom Pool

Swimming pools are all about luxury and relaxation, but when it comes to buying or building a pool there is a lot more to know than just the shape and size.

In this post, we dive into some of the benefits of building a custom-built pool. Whether you are looking for an oasis in your backyard or a refreshing break from your busy schedule, read on- these benefits will make you want to build an in-ground pool right now!

You get to choose the features There are many custom features you can add to a pool when building one from scratch. Do you want a glass view door to see your kids from the kitchen? How about a themed area with diving platforms and fountains? It can all be done! These extras might come with a price tag but hey, your pool is yours, so why not make it exactly how you want it? You can even pick different colors for different parts of the pool- talk about luxury! Whether you’re looking for an outdoor hot tub or your very own swimming hole, there are plenty of extra features that can be added on.

Pool design You probably know this, but you can actually get several different designs for your custom pool. You can have your pool built with a zero-entry area for toddlers, or a lap lane that’s designed to maintain proper swimming form and posture. There are even waterslides that can be installed in your pool too!

You can negotiate the prices Aesthetic features such as waterfalls, slides and diving boards might be costly to install when buying a prefabricated pool, but when you build your own you can choose exactly how much money to spend on these things.

You get to pick where it goes Think about how nice it would be to have a custom-built pool that fits into your backyard space perfectly. Would you prefer a pool that has two different levels or multiple pools? The options are endless, and you get to choose from any of them. You could even ask for a divider in one or two parts of the pool so that you can have different depths at different points- if that is what you want.

The pool will be perfectly sized Another benefit of building a custom pool is the fact that it will allow you to make sure it is perfectly sized to fit into your yard and around other features such as trees and patios.

Get Reliable Pool Construction Services Gainesville, TX, and North Texas

Need help building a pool? JC Boyd Custom Builders, LLC can help! We make it easy to build the perfect pool by delivering professional results and top-notch customer service.

JC Boyd Custom Builders, LLC makes it easy to get started on your custom-built pool by providing you with free design tips and building options.

For more information about our pool construction services, call us at 940-368-1882.

The post What are the Benefits of Building a Custom Pool first appeared on J C Boyd Custom Builders, LLC. Originally published here: https://www.jcboydcustombuilders.com/blog/what-are-the-benefits-of-building-a-custom-pool/

#J C Boyd Custom Builders #LLC

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thedaughtersofaewora · 2 years

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“I believe in something, I believe in us.“ (Us - James Bay)

John Wilkes walked in the room, holding a blue velvet box in his hands. It was not a small box like that containing a ring inside but the size of a shoe box. It was indeed a box of footwear.

And not just any footwear.

Heaven knew the gift presented was special. A blue velvet box of any size was an important gift for an upcoming event. “My love, this is for you.”

Heaven gently took the box from his hands, setting it on her lap. The white satin ribbon that surrounded the box felt nice on her fingers as she was undoing it. She set the ribbon aside and lifted the lid of the box. What was inside amazed her: completely clear, real glass slippers.

Heaven was at a loss of words. Before she could even think of what to say, John Wilkes carefully took a slipper out of the box and knelt down on one knee. He grabbed the slipper that he took out and helped Heaven put it on one foot with such gentleness and did the other foot as well.

“I knew it was a perfect fit.” John whispered. He looked into Heaven’s golden eyes. “Thank you.” She beamed. John smiled at his beautiful bride-to-be, grabbing ahold of her hands as he slowly stood up. She followed. The glass slipper made her a wee bit taller. Heaven looked down at her feet in the slippers. John cleared his throat.

“Heaven, my dear, I defended your honour.”

”John?”

”You won’t have to worry about that boy anymore.” John smiled at her.

”What did you do?”

”I took care of the problem. The upcoming days won’t find you worrisome anymore.” John hugged Heaven, running his fingers through her red hair.

“And we shall have our wedding and our baby in peace.”

A man walked into the room. He had the same balding head and few smaller black curls. His eyes were exactly like John Wilkes’. Dark and mysterious. He had wrinkles on his face and was a few inches taller.

“My dear Heaven, this is my older brother Mark. I remember bugging him for advice on how to write the perfect letter to you when we were in Washington!” The older brother’s real name was Marcus Jr. but everyone referred to him as Mark.

“How do you do, Mark?” Heaven curtsied.

Mark side-eyed and snorted. “Ah, this is the girl you left Lucy for? Never mind the fact she’s royalty. I truly do hope with all my heart the red hair isn’t hereditary. It’s inferior genetics. We Boyds never had redheads.”

“Excuse me?” Heaven frowned and crossed her arms. John Wilkes cleared his throat and spoke up. “I happen to adore redheads than brunettes. They’re more appealing. And my brother, I won’t tolerate insults towards my future wife.”

Before their wedding, Heaven asked my father to walk with her down the aisle. He declined at first. This was Heaven’s happy day, her dream coming true, and no conflict should ruin it. Indeed, he changed his mind and showed up hours before the wedding, surprising his daughter. “How could I miss my daughter’s big day? Nothing will stop me from attending!”

On a hot Baltimore summer day, John Wilkes Boyd, then 32, and my lovely sister Princess Heaven Park, only then just 20, were married. The entire Boyd family attended. The groom was a son of the now-retired stage actor, Marcus Boyd, and a former florist, Mary-Ann Hall, both were from London, England. John Wilkes’ birth, in his eyes, was “less respectable” because his parents were not married at the time. He was ashamed of it. When John Wilkes was thirteen, his folks finally married.

From the bride’s family, it was only our father that attended the wedding.

The sweet sounding music began. It was a slow piano at first. As soon as the violins were heard, a glowing, beaming Heaven made her appearance. How ever so graceful. She was a Park then. Heaven looked truly like an angel on her dream day, the regal aura surrounding her. Some guests described Heaven and her entrance as ethereal, like when our former-queen grandmother first saw her as a baby. Heaven wore a set of little life-like Camellia flower jewels in her red braided hair. After the wedding, she gave one jewel each to our mother, our female Royal Aeworan relatives, and to her female Boyd in-laws. She also wore a diamond tiara from her faraway Aewora on the other side of the ocean and the typical lace train. The tiara was said to offer protection from all evil and harm. Heaven said the crown costed $800,000 in AD (Aeworan dollars) but to her it was priceless. Our former-queen grandmother had picked the tiara for her. Today, some believe she had sensed something in John, thus the reason for the tiara.

Heaven wore a long, flowing white Hanbok, which had silk ribbons on the upper arms, and the additional colours of the outfit were yellow and pink. I think it would even make the mythical Aeworan goddesses of love and light envy her. Again she was holding Camellia flowers–as she had done on her first big day–her grand entrance into the public. Alongside her was our precious father in his fancy white Aeworan court attire, steady and his head held up high, yet again stealing the spotlight of the groom. John’s standard tux looked plain compared to my father’s attire. John pushed his annoyance to the side, not wanting his big day to be ruined. Heaven’s golden orbs sparkled even more brightly and her pleasing smile grew wider as she saw John over the heads of the guests. John tried so hard to stand still and not to run over to her.

They had chosen two words to be etched inside their wedding bands, a constant reminder of the forever choice they had made together: Our Promise.

John and Heaven declared honour to each other and vowed their lives to be led by their love regardless what different roads they may travel in the future.

When the old man finally pronounced them as husband and wife, John Wilkes gave his bride a deep and loving kiss and she responded back positively. Heaven was now a Boyd.

“Whoa! Uncle John really married a real princess!” His little nieces and nephews marvelled at the sight of Heaven, yelling their excitement over the clapping from the older guests. “Auntie princess!”

The wedding dinner consisted of American and Aeworan cuisine. Before the eating began, Heaven told John an odd Aeworan wedding tradition: together the groom and bride must eat a live sea creature, usually octopus. Tradition says doing so will ensure the security of the marriage. Our king and queen grandparents did this, and so did our parents. Heaven’s nose wrinkled prettily as she spoke of this tradition. Fortunately for couple, Heaven was vegan and would not eat a dead creature much less than a live one.

The wedding cake came along with Heaven’s favourite: Aeworan biscuits. It was our father’s work. When Heaven saw this, she hugged our father and thanked him for all he has done for her and the day. Our father left early. He didn’t want to watch the cake cutting, the biscuit breaking, or the dances shared between groom and bride. Guests recalled the bride “floated like a butterfly”, as she gracefully danced with her husband. It was a shame her father was not there to see it.

And he did not eat a plate of food or grabbed one to take to his hotel. Understandable, but what worried Heaven was that he didn’t want to shake the hands of the parents of the groom. She noticed that our father hadn’t looked at her in-laws’ way most of the wedding but the one time he did, he gave them a “dirty look”.

When my father made it to his hotel, he wept.

And knowing what happened in the near future, I understand many years later on why he wept.

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