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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime – Four // Wanda Maximoff

chapter three | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter five

author’s note: I hope you all don’t mind the slow burn because it’s like my favourite thing and i promise things will get spicy soon 😂

Since my rather abrupt revelation about Wanda, I found myself racked with guilt.

Not because she was a girl – I couldn't help my feelings in that sense – but because she was my brother's fiancé. And every time he came to me, gushing about how great of a date they had or how much he was falling for her, the guilt hit me like a sharp pain in the chest, because I understood what he was saying. I felt the same.

And it didn't help when they would occasionally go on dates in front of me, and all I could feel was an unexplainable jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I had no right to feel like this when she was an engaged woman. Her naturally flirtatious personality was simply that: a personality. And even though we'd had a genuinely lovely day a week ago when she invited me to her home, it was no reason for me to think of her in such a way.

The next date on Y/B/N and Wanda's journey to marriage was at our house in the garden. I wasn't actually aware of it until I saw them sat on some garden furniture.

My mum wanted me to help her with some gardening and I found her kneeling by some plant pots, a fair distance away from Wanda and my brother. As I approached her, I glanced in the couple's direction, seeing them sat opposite one another and enjoying a selection of finger foods and tea. They were far away enough to have privacy, but close enough for me to make out their expressions.

"For goodness sake, Y/N," my mother said when I kneeled down beside her to help. "Do you have to wear those horrendous trousers?"

I rolled my eyes, sitting on the ground comfortably. "I'm curious, mother. Do you like anything that I do?"

She gave me a disapproving glance. "I'm only looking out for you, dear. That outfit is very... unladylike."

"Well, they're comfortable," I quipped, before grabbing a spade and getting to work.

"So are dresses," she pointed out, continuing repotting her plants. "And they're prettier, too."

"Considering I have to wear a dress all the time and that I'm in the comfort of my own home, I'm going to pretend you didn't just make me feel bad for wearing these."

She didn't say anything, but I could tell she wasn't happy. I didn't mind wearing dresses, but I would be lying if I said trousers weren't more comfortable. The only time I could wear them was at home when doing chores or simply lounging around. I'd make the most of it whilst I could, no matter what comments my mother made.

I wasn't afraid to get my hands dirty as I helped her repot the plants before digging into the soil and planting some seeds she'd bought this morning. My mother, despite adoring gardening, hated getting messy, so you can imagine the look on her face when I got soil all over my clothes.

"I wish you would act like a lady sometimes," she mumbled to herself, but I didn't let it faze me. It was all I heard, so I was used to it.

Laughter sounded from behind us and I risked glancing back, seeing Wanda laughing at something Y/B/N said. I rolled my eyes subconsciously before looking back to what I was doing. My fingernails dug into the soil with irritation, directed at them and also myself. Though, despite my irritation, I still had an urge to glance back at Wanda, and when I did she was looking my way this time. A mere glance on her part, but she directed a smile my way before looking to my brother again.

I'd like to say that was it, but I continued to steal glances of her as I worked alongside my mum, taking what I could get as I admired her from afar.

She looked stunning today, as she always did. Her long curls were left out, flowing over her shoulders and pretty green dress; I wasn't close enough to be able to tell, but I was sure that her dress complimented her eyes. A dark forest green colour with golden flecks, matching the deep green of her dress. Or so I assumed.

"They seem like they're getting on well," my mum said at one point, earning my attention. She was talking about Y/B/N and Wanda as she continued, "They make such a lovely couple."

I swallowed hard, nodding lamely. "They sure do, mum."

She gave me a sideways glance. "You know, your brother will be married soon and then it will be your turn."

I groaned quietly, knowing where this was going. There was no point trying to stop her because once she started, that was it.

"You can't just keep locking yourself in your room and writing stories," she was saying, but I attempted to tune her out which sometimes felt impossible since she had no off button and her shrill voice always managed to break through my bubble. "You have to find a husband. An actual person who you can marry and who can take care of you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Y/N, you know that's not what I mean..." but I stopped listening as she got started going on another ramble about the benefits of having a husband.

Instead, my eyes darted around the garden until they naturally gravitated towards Wanda. It was definitely the wrong time to get distracted by her though, since she seemed to be sucking some food off her thumb. As she did, her eyes found mine and she took that as her opportunity to wink in my direction playfully, hiding a smile as her thumb remained between her teeth. Y/B/N didn't seem to notice, as he was looking the other way, and I felt my cheeks heating up as I looked away quickly, remembering my dream.

She's going to marry your brother. She's going to marry your brother. She's going to marry your brother.

A stupid mantra that didn't work, but I attempted to drill it into my brain anyway.

"...and it would be nice to be able to do all the wedding stuff for you next time around," my mum continued to ramble, unaware of my flustered self.

The image of Wanda sucking her thumb was permanently engraved in my head and I struggled to wish it away. No more staring for today, I told myself, before getting lost in gardening again.

After ten more minutes of nonstop nattering about finding a husband for me, my mother excused herself to refill the watering can. I was grateful for her momentary absence, appreciating the silence and lack of guilt-tripping. Until I heard footsteps behind me shortly after, making me groan loudly.

"I'm not finding a husband right now!" I snapped, unable to take it any longer. But when I spun around to give her a piece of my mind, my mouth hung open like a fish out of water.

"I'd sure hope not," Wanda answered with a stifled laugh. "Then I'd have to share your company with somebody else."

Closing my mouth and standing up, I cleared my throat. "Sorry. I thought you were my mum."

She nodded, eyes roaming my whole body for a second, making me nervous under her stare. I hadn't actually seen her since my inappropriate dream and it was growing increasingly difficult to be so close to her without thinking about it.

"I figured. I just wanted to say hi," she said, expression softening as she met my eyes.

I was right about the dress bringing her eyes out more. A forest green colour, as I'd predicted.

"Hi," I said, giving her a small, nervous smile. "Erm, how is your date going?"

She shrugged, raising her hand to hold her forearm comfortably. "It's okay. It's wonderful out here, I'll give him that."

Relaxing into the conversation, my awkwardness fading already, I smiled in agreement. "Yeah, it is pretty."

A smirk appeared on her lips. "Yeah. So are the gardeners."

Admittedly, it took me a few seconds longer than it should have to realise she was talking about me. When I did, I felt a heat creeping up my neck and to my face and looked to the grass to distract myself. See, when she did stuff like that, it made me question a hell of a lot.

She chuckled. "So, gardening. Another dislike of yours?"

I shook my head, risking looking back up to her. "No, actually. I don't mind it. I'm just not a fan when it gives my mother an opportunity to discuss marriage."

Wanda's interested was piqued as she quirked a brow. "Oh? Your mother has suitors for you?"

I squeezed my eyes shut at the possibility, shaking my head. "I'd rather not ask, Wanda."

She let out a short laugh. "You've got time anyway. At least until Y/B/N and I are married."

I hoped she didn't see the involuntary wince I did at the mention of that. "Honestly, I'm not even thinking about that now... I'm nowhere near ready for that."

"Would you not want to get married?" she asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

I sighed, looking around, unable to keep my eyes still. "I don't know, I guess? Eventually? But to somebody I love, not some arranged marriage just for the sake of it." My words sank in quite quickly and I straightened up, instantly looking to Wanda with apologetic eyes. "Bloody hell, that is not what I meant to say–"

"It's fine," she reassured me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I get it. And, well, you're not wrong."

I smiled halfheartedly, the guilt at my previous words still present. I could honestly say that I wasn't aiming that comment at her, but I wouldn't blame her if she took it that way.

"It's important to fall in love with the person you marry," she said, gaze locked on mine. "You have to learn about them, who they are. Their likes, their dislikes. Their personality. If they have a sense of humour or if they're as dry as cardboard. If they're into you as much as you're into them."

Nodding slowly, I wasn't sure what to say. My mouth went dry the longer she watched me, eyes dancing with an emotion I couldn't recognise. Then her eyes fell to my lips and my knees began to shake subtly, wanting to give in because of how confused I was.

"Y/N, dear, don't dirty Wanda's dress with your muddy hands!" my mum called, breaking the strange silence that had built between the brunette and I.

Stepping back with realisation (and grateful for the interruption), I wiped my hands on my shirt subconsciously, making a further mess of my already mud-stained clothes. "Sorry."

When I looked up, Wanda was chewing on her lip, eyes doing a once over on me yet again. It was moments like this when I couldn't tell if she was teasing me or if she actually had an interest in me, maybe, like that.

"Wanda, honey, let's get you inside," my mum spoke, approaching the two of us and looking to her.

Nodding, Wanda glanced at me once more, shooting me a sweet smile, before being led away by my mum. I breathed out slowly, knowing it was wrong of me to feel this way about her. But it was hard not to fall for her when she had so much about her that was interesting.

Her passion for art, her teasing, playful attitude, her sense of humour... and then there were the physical aspects, like her beaming smile, her luxuriant brown hair and her entrancing hazel eyes. She was literally perfect and my brother was one lucky man. For once in my life, I was actually jealous of something he had that I didn't.

"Y/N!"

Speaking of the devil...

"Y/B/N, hey," I said with a smile as he approached me with an extra jump in his step. "What's up?"

Grin on his lips, he smacked my arm. "Did you see, Wanda? Didn't she look stunning?"

The guilt was cutting real deep. "She did."

"I think I'm in love," he gushed, eyes rolling backwards with delight. "She's perfect, Y/N, you don't get it."

"I can imagine...," I mumbled, but he barely noticed, too lovestruck to realise.

"Every date I've been on with her has been amazing," he continued. "If we weren't already engaged, I would've proposed!"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise, definitely not expecting this. He'd made his attraction to her known since the moment we'd met her, constantly talking about how gorgeous she was, but he'd never sounded happier than he did now.

"Mum adores her," he said with a content smile. "Dad would probably marry her if we was thirty years younger. And you–" He looked to me gratefully. "You're making an effort and I appreciate it."

Oh, God, the guilt was overwhelming.

"Everything is going perfectly," he finished with a sigh. "I just– I can't wait to marry her, Y/N."

I smiled for his sake, but my insides were shrivelling up and failing me. I was a horrible person, wasn't I? What kind of monster falls for her brother's fiancé? Me. I'm the monster. But not anymore. I couldn't let this get out of hand. I had to do better.

I promised myself I'd do better.

—

Doing better was going well, I'd like to think. I mean, it had only been two weeks, so I couldn't guarantee, but I was no longer having... thoughts... about the Maximoff in question.

Yes, there was that familiar inkling of jealousy tugging away in my stomach whenever Y/B/N would talk about her, but I think I was getting better at ignoring it. I had convinced myself that my feelings towards Wanda were not true but merely a schoolgirl crush (which I wasn't allowed to have, but still) and that I'd get over it after some time.

I'd liked, maybe two girls in my life before her. The first being when I was a child, about five, and a girl in my class did something different to her hair. If I remember correctly, she always had one ponytail that sat at the back of her neck, then one day, she came in with two braids down her head and it really wasn't a massive change, but five year old me developed a huge crush on her. That was when I learnt that a girl liking a girl was not only forbidden, but viewed as a sin.

The second girl I liked was in my Literature class in secondary school. She was probably the first person I'd fallen for in a way that was considered more than a simple crush. Something about her way with words was so attractive to me, as was the cute smile she'd send my way whenever she'd be my partner for an assignment. I never told her how I felt for she only ever treated me as a friend and the last thing I wanted was to bring shame to my family for liking girls.

Those instances, and the fact that I regularly found myself admiring women in a way I found incapable with men, made me realise I was different and I always would be. And so, the chatter about finding a husband and getting married always scared me because I was afraid that I'd be stuck in a place that I would never get to be myself in. Even though that was the reality of most women anyway.

So, in addition to the fact that it was wrong of me to like women (though it felt anything but) and that the woman I liked now was my brother's fiancé, I convinced myself it was just a mere crush I had on Wanda. She was a pretty girl with an attractive personality and that was it.

Or so I thought.

"Go get your brother, Y/N," my mum said one evening. "He's in his study. Dinner is almost ready."

I nodded and headed to my brother's study across the hall. He was sat at his desk, focusing on something specific that he was writing and barely acknowledging my presence. I glanced around the room, taking in the bookshelves filled with manuscripts, both published and unpublished, and notebooks of ideas piled on desks.

I wasn't jealous of this place, I really wasn't. And I wasn't jealous of my brother either, even when he got credit for things I'd written. I was just angry and hurt that I couldn't have the some privileges he got, such as his own personal study to write whatever he pleased.

"Dinner's almost ready," I called to him from the doorway. "C'mon."

He didn't turn around as he answered, "I'll be with you, one second."

Curious to what had captured his attention, I pushed myself from the doorway and approached his desk. He had a lamp turned on, the yellow light lighting the page he was scribbling on. I peeked over his shoulder and saw him pause from writing, stuck in thought. It gave me the chance to read some words and I tried not to laugh.

"Oh my god, is that a love letter?"

Surprised at my presence, he covered the page with his elbows and leaned on them, looking to me with red cheeks.

"What? No, that's... no," he stumbled out, shaking his head.

Stifled smile on my lips, I looked to him with humoured eyes. "You have to let me read it."

He shook his head frantically, trying to play it cool. "I don't think I can do that."

Well, now I was really curious.

"C'mon, I've read pretty much everything you've ever written," I told him, perching myself on the edge of his desk. "Just a little read and I'll drop it."

Pondering my words, he slowly began to straighten up, uncovering the page. With a sigh of submission, he nodded to it, wordlessly giving me permission to look. I grinned, grabbing the page and holding it to the light so I could read it.

It was mostly ramblings – unfinished sentences, phrases, clauses – but it was all about a certain someone, a love letter as I predicted. It talked about this person's body and lips and humour and fingers and because I was so caught up in teasing my brother, I failed to realise that I was reading about Wanda. At least until it mentioned her accent.

My smile faded when I saw the way he wrote about her, with such passion and ferocity and– he was seriously in love with her. And it may or may not have stung a little because everything he'd written was accurate and I felt the same way. Well, not the in love bit, but pretty much everything else.

"So? Is it bad?" he asked nervously, and I lowered the page to see he was waiting for a verdict. "It's messy, I know. I was just journaling and then it kind of happened."

"It's sweet," I told him truthfully, offering him a reassuring smile.

His shoulders relaxed as I put the page back on the desk before him. "Thank you, Y/N." He paused, before glancing up at me sheepishly. "Now that you're here, you may as well tell me if there's anything I can do to improve."

I raised my eyebrows. "Why? Are you planning on giving this to her?"

He shook his head instantly. "No, oh God, no. That would be severely humiliating. I just thought you could help me for me. You always make my writing better."

I snickered, shaking my head with amusement. Behind the scenes was where I thrived apparently.

"Quickly," I told him as he held out the paper to me. "Mum is waiting for us."

He nodded obediently and I took the paper from his grasp, getting another look at it. Skimming it with my eyes yet again, I found the first criticism and pointed to it so he could see.

"This bit here," I said gently. "You talk about her eyes and say they're magnetic."

"Is that not good?" he asked with a frown.

"It is, it is," I said politely, not wanting to offend him. "But that's all you've written. You want to give the reader a reason to believe you. Why are they magnetic? What about them do you find yourself attracted to?"

He nodded, seeming to get it. Leaning back in his seat, he had a think. I waited patiently, curious to what he would come up with, but then he sighed defeatedly and looked to me.

"What would you write?" he asked, and I smiled with disbelief. It always ended up like this. Me helping him, challenging him with a thought, then him ending up using what I say.

"Okay, let me think," I said, crossing my arms and staring ahead. "Wanda's eyes."

"Here," Y/B/N said, making a gesture to placing something invisible on my head. When I quirked a brow of confusion, he added, "It's your thinking cap."

I rolled my eyes but laughed quietly at his stupidity, then tried to think about what to describe Wanda's eyes as.

It wasn't difficult to imagine them despite having not seen them in a few days. They were always bright, animated, lively. Whether it was green, blue or brown, they were irresistible and as my brother wrote, they were magnetic.

I breathed out, speaking from the heart without thinking. "When Wanda Maximoff looks into your eyes it's like she holds all of the elements in a single gaze. At times, they're greener than the earth itself, captivating and tranquil and daring you to look away. But then they're also bluer than the brightest of skies and darkest of oceans, deep and and liberating and easy for you to get swallowed up in."

A smile fell on my lips at the thought. She truly was something.

I continued slowly, "In the light, you can make out golden flecks, like the first sliver of the sun in Spring. It's hopeful and guiding and fills you with warmth. But what isn't obvious upon first glance is how tempestuous they are, like air itself. She's got a passion behind her eyes that is scary at first, but when you get to know her, you realise that it's a storm worth raging."

It went quiet when I finished and I zoned back into reality, Wanda's eyes blinking away from my mind in an instant. I pursed my lips and looked to Y/B/N with mild concern, realising just how much I'd rambled. He raised his eyebrows with surprise, staring at me.

"Y/N, that was amazing! How did you think of that?" he asked in bewilderment.

I shrugged, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. "I don't know. I just thought about a random set of hazel eyes and applied my thoughts to it."

He smiled, impressed. "Amazing. I love it."

Grabbing a pen, he began to write furiously on the page and I stood up, dusting myself off.

"You sure that's not going to her?" I asked, still feeling fuzzy from what I'd said and hoping she'd never see it.

"Very sure," he promised, not looking up. "It's just for me."

I studied him judgementally. "Okay, well, maybe get rid of that part about her breasts then. It's a little creepy."

He looked up to me with a boyish grin. "I'm only a man, Y/N. Can you blame me?"

I rolled my eyes, shuddering at what he was implying. The mere implication of a thought of him and Wanda... nope, I didn't want to go there.

"I'll see you at dinner," I said, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. "Try to hurry, yeah?"

"Yes, I'll be right with you," he assured me, his hand moving in a flurry as he wrote. "Just writing what you said so I don't forget. Could be good for a future book, who knows?"

I forced a smile, humming in agreement. "Right. Well, I'll see you at the table."

He nodded and I left his room, letting out a deep breath. Just another day in the Y/L/N household.

—

Popping into town for errands was surprisingly not a task I found boring. If anything, I preferred it, using it as a chance to get away from my mother's incessant marriage-related conversations and my father's constant praising for anything Y/B/N did. Nowadays, it was also a way to escape anything wedding-related, which was a plus.

This time, I was only nipping out to return a book to the library, but my mum caught me before leaving and asked me to deliver some letters to the post office since I was already heading that way. Happy to prolong this outing as much as possible, I accepted the errand and headed to the post office after returning my book.

When I was there, an advertisement caught my eye. A chalkboard outside the store displayed a deal the train station were doing. I probably would have ignored it if it weren't for the mention of Blackpool.

2 FOR 1 ON BLACKPOOL TRAIN TICKETS THIS WEEKEND

Remembering my conversation with Wanda, I realised I hadn't actually followed up with her on my promise of taking her there to paint. She probably didn't even remember, since it was a while ago when we spoke of it, but the idea of going there with her made me excited. Was it stupid to get the tickets? Probably. But did I go inside and get them? Of course.

It was only when I got home did I realise how silly it was. Would she even want to go? What if she made an excuse to get out of it? Oh, this whole thing was stupid. I was overthinking it. Friends went on day trips all the time, it's wasn't a big deal.

To my surprise, when I poked my head into the living room to tell my mum I'd posted her letters, Wanda was sat on the couch with her. They were drinking some tea and having scones, chatting away. I'd called my mum before noticing, so when they looked my way, I clumsily entered and straightened up to make myself look presentable.

"Sorry, I didn't know you had company," I apologised with an awkward smile, eyes flickering to a smiling Wanda before looking to my mum. "I just wanted to let you know that I dropped the letters off by the post office."

"Perfect, Y/N, thank you," she said in response, before looking to the setup before her. "You can join us if you'd like."

I was quick to smile gratefully, though shook my head. "It's okay, you guys enjoy. I'll just be in my room if you need me."

My mum shrugged, sipping her tea, and Wanda watched me with a small smile, nodding in greeting, before looking away. I licked my lips uncomfortably before backing out the room and heading upstairs.

I was working on yet another manuscript that wouldn't see the light of day at my desk when I heard a knock on my door about an hour later.

"Come in!" I called, not looking up.

The door opened and I finished my train of thought before turning around, surprised to see Wanda walking into my room.

"Oh, hi," I got out suddenly, words falling from my mouth without me thinking first.

She smiled softly, stopping before me. "Hey. I'm heading home now, but I just wanted to say goodbye."

I stared at her, forgetting how to speak because she was wearing a lovely floral dress that complimented her figure perfectly.

"Oh, and I thought you might like these," she added before forgetting, then held out a box towards me.

Recovering from my initial stupor, I reached out and accepted the box, realising they were chocolates.

"I got them for your mum, but she said she's not a fan of hazelnut," she explained, and I looked up to see her looking elsewhere with a nervous smile on her lips. "You don't have to have them of course. I can just... eat them myself."

An amused smile tugged at my lips as I quirked a brow. "You'd eat them all yourself?"

She was very much aware of how silly she sounded, but she was adamant on appearing confident, so she nodded with certainty. "Yes... apparently I would."

Lighthearted laughter escaped my lips as I set the box to the side. She was trying to stand her ground, but then she sighed and began to laugh, too. My heart fluttered in my chest at the sound and I appreciated the crinkle by her eyes when her smile widened.

"Thank you," I said, settling on a smile as I watched her with amusement.

She nodded, smile of her own still present, before pointing behind her. "I'll, erm, go now."

When she turned to leave, I felt inclined to say, "Wait!"

She paused, turning around patiently, and I knew there was no going back now. Standing up, I grabbed my purse from the side and pulled out the train tickets.

"When I was out today, I saw that the train station were doing this deal on tickets to Blackpool," I started, hoping she couldn't see my hands trembling slightly. "And I remembered that I promised to take you so you could see the water." I closed my eyes, praying that this wouldn't be a mistake, before opening them and looking to Wanda. "We can go, if you'd still like to."

She raised her eyebrows, eyes glued to the tickets in my hand. No words were being said and my heart thumped in my chest with the realisation that I may have done something insanely stupid. Before I could even think to apologise, a grin spread across her face and her dazzling blue eyes met mine, freezing me in place.

"Are you serious? Y/N, I'd love to!" she exclaimed, then proceeded to launch herself onto me, arms wrapping tightly around my neck.

I gulped as she did, not expecting that reaction, but returned the hug by folding my arms around her waist loosely. She smelt really good, which was probably wrong of me to note, and I enjoyed the feeling of her so close to me, also wrong of me to note.

"Okay, well, the tickets are for this weekend," I said, desperately trying not to stammer when she pulled away. "I can meet you at the station in the morning. Eight."

Her eyes danced with excitement as she accepted the ticket I held out to her. I reminded myself that this was just a friendly day trip and nothing more.

"Eight," she confirmed, attempting to stifle her eagerness by biting her lip and nodding.

I swallowed hard, trying ever-so-hard not to let my gaze drop to her lips. Because then I'd think about kissing her and that was definitely not what I should be thinking about my soon-to-be sister-in-law.

Oh, God, I was screwed.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine

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how-masterful · 3 years

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To Have Your Cake (And Eat It Too)

Dhawan!master x Reader

Summary: The Master has gotten himself tied up. On your birthday of all days. Stuck in a straightjacket and with no idea how long its going to last, you decide to treat your Time lord with a share of your sweet and sinful birthday desires

Notes: for the second year in a row, this is the official how masterful birthday fic™ for her absolutely beloved @plethora-of-imagines . happy birthday, my love! I hope through all the chaos of losing the first draft, flaky internet connections, and a crippling desire for this fic to work out, you hopefully enjoy your birthday gift! 🥳❤💫

this fic was partly inspired by this piece of artwork by @/thoscheii

The Master tugged angrily on his arms, for the fifth time that minute. He grit his teeth together, yanking his shoulders downwards.

It was a fruitless effort.

The straight jacket still refused to budge.

“I’ve tried everything, Master. You really are stuck in there until those time locks fall off.”

He tugged once more, before sighing and sinking back into his chair.

“Great. Absolutely magnificent.”

It was a stupid idea. You’d told him as such. The planet of the bachelors, solo men that thrived on their isolation from women. Females within the species simply didn't exist. The Master had seemingly decided the best idea in the universe, something he’d say about every new plan, would be to try and blend in in order to steal some exciting world destroying weapons (and obviously refuse to tell you about the details). It would be an absolute piece of cake, he’d decreed as soon as he’d planned it- sneak in, steal the plans, sneak out. It would only take fifteen minutes or so. That was 7 hours ago.

However, in his pride and… underestimation of the species’ intelligence, he’d made a single, glaring oversight.

He hadn't taken the bloody wedding ring off of his finger.

“Have you really tried everything?”

You turned from your position leant against the console, sending him an offended expression. The Tardis hummed and whirred in your defence.

“Yes! Every single idea you gave me!”

“Are you sure?”

You widened your eyes in an expression that hopefully conveyed to him it wouldn't be wise to ask again. The Tardis beeped rapidly, hoping to dissolve the tension. Still leaning against the console you folded your arms, looking down at your husband.

“Yes, Master. I promise. I really think you’re just gonna have to wait this one out.”

The Master let out a loud and rather obnoxious groan. He let his head fall back, scrunching up his face in a look of pure annoyance. But even that expression of disappointment, and most likely rage, couldn't be fully executed. The thick red collar that sat around his neck propped up his head like a neck brace.

To his credit, taking off his ring wasn't something he had to do often. Since the day he’d put it on for the first time it never seemingly came off. That was part of his overt sentimentality that you secretly adored. Plus, it hadn’t caused any problems for the pair of you. The ring, a golden band engraved with endless circular Gallifreyan, sat snugly on his finger and often shone, even in low light. It acted as a symbol, a sign to other creatures great and small that he was indeed a taken Time Lord. It matched your own, your wedding band sharing the same design that comfortably nested itself upon your own hand. Of course, yours had to share a finger with the engagement ring- a white point star, shrunken perfectly to sit and shimmer in a band forged from the oldest nugget of gold in the universe.

You looked down at the ring, smiling fondly at the glimmering star that sat on your finger. It shifted and refracted at even the smallest of movements, even in the low light of the Tardis. From there you looked up to see the Master still trying to flop back his head, grumbling and muttering something most likely threatening to himself. You tilted your head, watching him struggle, before carefully making your way over to sit yourself down in his lap. Taking his face in your hands you carefully brushed over his cheeks with your thumbs, the anger and rage that simmered in his expression slowly melting away as he stared up at you with a rare, rather defeated expression.

It wasn't often that the Master was the one in need of saving. At least in the typical, damsel in distress sort of way. It was no secret that the Master had a history of getting in over his head, especially when it came to the Doctor and their centuries long rivalry- from the Autons all the way to the Kasaavin, the Master would sometimes need that extra helping hand. But with you, he was always so proudly in command. The Master of the situation, one could say. With you he would stride in, proudly taking control over every situation: if you were in danger he’d burst in burning with unstoppable rage, guns blazing- more likely TCE blazing, and would happily destroy anything and anyone that was in the path between you and him. Only now it was him that required the whole rescuing thing.

Seeing him like this, bound in a jacket with timed locks that simply refused to budge, almost made him look humbled. But of course he wouldn't let something so small destroy his persistent (And slightly enjoyable) egomania.

“It suits you, y’know.”

The Master rolled his eyes.

“Is that your way of making me feel better?”

“I’m serious. I never thought I'd say it, but you suit a collar and straight jacket.”

The Master bit back a laugh, sending you an incredulous expression.

“Really? Is that so? Because I feel like a knock off Houdini. Even I don't deserve that.”

You pouted dramatically, sticking out your bottom lip. Your hand reached up to ruffle his already messy hair, earning an even angrier scowl.

“You’re enjoying yourself far too much. Just you wait until I get out of here.”

“Aw, is the big bad Master angry he's got his collar on and matches his wife?”

The Master gave a reluctant laugh, narrowing his eyes like a cat. You tickled under his chin with your fingers, enjoying watching him attempt to squirm away. You could tell he was trying so hard to seem offended, but the way he subtly titled his head to grant you more access to the strip of skin under his chin made you believe otherwise.

It was also undeniable that the thick red collar that sat around his neck matched your own. It seemed, to the Master, that his collaring of you was a pre marriage arrangement. Your own was a rich, purple leather that curved around your throat, lined with golden velvet that sat flush against your skin. Golden hardware, buckles and rings decorated the piece, making the thing look incredibly lavish and expensive- and judging by the Masters taste, it probably was.

“Don't patronise me, love.”

The Master was scowling again. It looked rather cute. You placed a quick peck to the top of his forehead, watching him scowl in return.

“I can't help it Master, you look like a kicked puppy. All grumpy and angry. You know Its your own fault you got into this mess.”

The Master opened his mouth, ready to argue to the ends of the earth as to how he wasn't responsible for the consequences of his own actions. This argument was neither new, nor something you wanted to get into again.

Suddenly, you had a thought. It was a naughty thought, rather nefarious.

Though not deadly, the thought was slightly dangerous. If only for what the Master might do when he finally got free. Yes, this was an ample opportunity for you to follow through, and use the new situation to your advantage. He’d be so proud, you thought, if it wasn't him in said situation.

You pushed your finger against the Master's lips, catching the Time Lord slightly off guard. Once again, his eyes narrowed.

“Move. Your. Finger.”

“I’m pretty sure this is the universal symbol of shut up and listen, Master.”

The Time Lord pressed his lips into a thin line, glaring absolute daggers in your direction. Slowly you pulled your finger away from his lips, moving your face so close your noses almost touched.

“Fine, I'm listening.”

“Of all the days, Master. You had to choose today. Lucky for you, the Tardis thinks there's not much time left on those time locks. Lucky for me, it gives me just enough time to have some fun with you.”

If the Master's eyes were narrow before, now they were creeping wide. You could see the calculations his brain was performing behind his eyes, all the thoughts and possibilities swirling around in his head like brain soup. Rarely was the Master ever in a situation where somebody intended to have fun with HIM. Usually it was the other way around. This was a new sensation, a feeling of which the Master in all his years of existence had yet to fully comprehend.

Was this… what nervousness felt like?

It wasn't long until he was about to find out.

In all his time, cataloguing his thoughts and trying to figure out what you could possibly mean, the Master failed to notice you slipping from his lap and heading off towards the kitchen. With a skip in your step, you quickly made your way towards the piece of delicious, freshly baked cake that sat under the crystal glass dome on the counter top- grabbing a fork on your journey back as you circled, returning to the door from which you came.

Quickly scarpering back to the console room, you could see the Master still thinking, his eyebrows furrowed as he tugged at the jacket once more. He really did look like a curious cat, sneering at the problem at hand while also being absolutely fascinated. You carefully made your way towards the Time Lord, letting out a small cough to break him from his focus. Suddenly, his head snapped up towards you, his mess of hair flying backwards as he looked from your smug expression to the plate in your hand, before turning back to your face with a knowing look.

The large triangle of birthday cake, decorated in thick frosting and rainbow sprinkles, sat upon the fine china plate.

“What are you up to now?”

“You decided to get yourself tied up on my birthday. You’re going to enjoy this slice of cake with me even if I have to feed you it by hand. Now open.”

The Master watched intently as you held the fork to his lips, sending you an unimpressed expression.

“There's nothing on it.” he deadpanned.

“I know that,” you sighed. “Hold it for me while I get myself comfortable.”

The Master rolled his eyes, before opening his lips and taking the fork between his teeth. He looked like those flamenco dancers that would brandish a rose in their mouth while dancing, only slightly less flamboyant. Though the Master definitely was no stranger to flamboyance, if his past regenerations and even more recent plans were anything to go off.

“What on earth are you planning?” he mumbled through gritted teeth, watching you precariously place the plate upon his thigh. His eyes watched with absolute wonder as he saw what you were doing.

Carefully, in front of the Time Lord, you began to tug at the hem of your underwear from beneath the already rather short dressing gown- the pile of clothes you’d rescued him in already sat in a pile in the corner of the room. You slowly shimmied your panties down your legs, his eyes never leaving your body as you purposely drew out your movements. You could tell the Master was fascinated, the way his chest had begun to rise and fall slightly faster than usual. Methodically you teased him, slipping the underwear from your legs and throwing them on to the pile. Your hands then slowly wandered to the Master's knees, the Time Lord taking in a deep breath as you fiddled with the zipper of his trousers, pulling it down to expose his underwear. You took hold of the plate on his thigh before it toppled, using your other hand to pull down the waistband of the Masters underwear, carefully freeing the Masters hardening cock. You could hear him let out a low, guttural groan behind the fork.

Without breaking his gaze you straddled over his thighs, pushing your body against his own as you sank yourself down to sit on his now firm cock. You gasped softly as you felt him inside you, the Masters left eye practically twitching as he bit down on the fork in his mouth. You rocked backwards and forwards a couple times, settling yourself down in his lap, before you brought the plate to sit between your chest and his own. Soon after, you finally reached to pull the fork from between his teeth. The Master was staring at you, wordlessly, lightly panting for breath as you smiled oh so innocently.

“There,” you teased. “Much comfier.”

The Master was working his way towards catching his breath.

“You know… if you were anybody else… I'd kill you for this.”

You laughed lightly, measuring out the size of the first bite with the prongs of the fork.

“Good. Because if anybody else did this to you, I'd kill them as well. You’re my husband after all.”

“You’re getting far too cheeky, love. I think you need reminding who's in charge here.”

You leant forwards in the Masters lap, purposely shifting your hips. You couldn't help but smile at the involuntary gasp he gave.

“What are you going to do, Master? Spank me? With what hands?”

The Master met your gaze, matching your expression. Your faces were mere inches away from each others, your eyes daring each other to make the next move.

“You’re in so much trouble after this.”

“You can't punish the birthday girl, Master. That's just plain old rude.”

The Master chuckled fondly.

“Forgive me for misplacing my manners, dearest. I must’ve left them with my hands.”

“Apology accepted.”

You nipped at the end of his nose with your teeth, before giggling cheekily and leaning in for a kiss. The Master, in all his superiority and domination, couldn't help but kiss back. He always failed to stay fully angry at you. Your noses brushed together as you stole a kiss from each other's mouths, the pair of you dissolving into quiet laughter once you parted.

“Let me have this moment, Master. Please.”

The Master pondered for a moment, tilting his head dramatically to the side and watching your hopeful expression blossom onto your face. He huffed out a sigh, looking up at you with another defeated expression. Only this one was full of genuine fondness.

“Fine.” he sighed finally. “Because it's your birthday.”

Your smile was absolutely beaming. You pulled the end chunk of cake onto the fork, holding it up to the Masters mouth. The frosting was almost dripping back onto the plate from the fluffy, bite sized piece. He parted his lips, waiting for you to place the cake into his mouth.

“Say please, Master.”

“Don't push it, Y/n.”

You simply shrugged in return, before placing the cake into the Master's mouth. As he chewed you gently began to circle your hips, lightly moving atop his cock, generating a small amount of friction. The Master gave a quiet moan, letting his eyes flutter shut as the cake melted on his tongue. He licked at his lips, catching the small trail of frosting and sprinkles that had remained on his lips.

“How is it?” you purred softly.

The Master smacked his lips together, before giving a lazy smile.

“I’m enjoying myself more than I anticipated.”

“Poor Master, did you think I was going to torture you?”

The Master chuckled as you offered him another piece of cake, parting his lips and watching you intently as you teasingly pulled the fork slowly from his mouth. You continued to twist and circle your hips, the Master's eyes watching you almost hypnotically. You could feel a hot flush begin to creep up your face, the apples of your cheeks blushing a sweet red as your shoulders began to relax. The Master smirked, watching you break off another chunk of the sprinkle covered cake. Only this time you placed it into your own mouth.

You could see why the Master reacted so positively. The flavours swirled and collided in your mouth, your taste buds exploding with sensory pleasure. Your hips swivelled and rocked, much like clockwork, as you rolled your head over your shoulders and gave a deep moan of pleasure.

“Shit, that's a good cake.” you admitted, fluttering open your eyes. The Master was licking his lips, hands lightly tugging on the straightjacket as you licked the frosting from your teeth.

“It's almost as nice as our first wedding cake.”

“Go on, take another bite.”

Weakly, you nodded, breaking off another chunk with the fork and placing it on your tongue. The ‘yes Master’ you gave was almost a whisper.

You did the same for your husband, feeding him another chunk of the cake while continuously building a rhythm of motion atop his cock. The Master was groaning, harder than before, a light sweat beginning to form on his brow. He couldn't help but notice how much closer you’d pressed yourself to his torso, the cake almost sliding from the plate that was now practically diagonal against your chest.

“Y’know, it's not the first time I've worn something like this.” the Master admitted between mouthfuls.

“Seriously?” your voice was almost lost behind a moan.

“White straightjacket, red collar, I think they- fuck- chose something from my personal history to cage me in.”

The Master was now beginning to thrust his hips up against yours, jostling your rhythm and causing you to give a shocked gasp of pleasure. The plate almost fell from your chest, barely being caught by your spare hand and the edge of the fork.

“Master, yes-”

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the guttural moan you wanted to give. The sweetness of the cake mixed with the burning deep in your belly was causing your senses to go into overdrive. The Master was methodical, thrusting up as best he could with the top of his body tied in place. His movements were sending chills shooting up your spine, knowing exactly how to make you gasp for breath and beg for more. He always knew exactly what you desired, his body and mind instinctively understanding every primal desire you had. Maybe you were just obvious. Or perhaps he was more sentimental than he let on.

Soon the once imposing slice of cake was nothing more than a single section. Crumbs and sprinkles poked from the corners of your mouth and onto your lips, the Master's teeth gnashing upwards in a bid to lick them away. Your speed and ferocity had increased to the point where you needed to stabilize yourself atop the Masters thrusting cock. Both of you had begun to sweat. Something needed to give.

“Master, I need, fuck-”

“I swear to god, let me taste you.”

The Master was panting like an animal.

“The plate-”

“Fuck the plate. I’ll buy you as many as you want. Come here, do as you’re told.”

You gave an inhumane snarl as the fork clattered to the floor, your fingers grasping hold of the last square of cake. Frosting oozed down your fingers as you relented your grip on the plate, the small black plate crashing down onto the hard wood and shattering into thousands of shards. The Master opened wide as you bucked your hips, your fingers pushing the cake firmly against his mouth. Sprinkles and crumbs smeared over the Masters lips as you abandoned all inhibition, your own mouth diving in to follow as your lips crashed together in an animalistic kiss. Teeth and tongues slashed and battled for control as the sweet concoction oozed down your throats, the taste of the frosting melting into the taste of each others mouths.

Crumbs and sticky decoration stained the clean white straightjacket as your fingers clasped hold of the Masters shoulders, your forehead pushing against his as he snarled into the kiss. Your hips thrusted furiously against his own, the pair of you rising and falling against the back of the chair as you begged for friction and every sensation you were willing to share. Your fingers fisted into the back of the Master's hair, the other hand stroking down his back and running over the intricate set of time locks that connected the jacket together in an intricate lattice of latches. You tugged on them as you went, growing deeper into the kiss as you bounced yourself up and down in the Masters lap.

You could feel yourself getting close to the precipice of satisfaction, the Master's teeth nipping at your bottom lip as his tongue licked over the mess. Your noses pushed together as you hissed in delight, your body clamouring for release as you whined pathetically in his ear.

“Master, so close” you begged, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth.

The Master snapped his teeth together, pushing his forehead against his own.

“Don't you dare cum” he barked, groaning as you licked down the side of his face.

“Please, please I can't-”

“Listen to your Master” he growled in your ear. As if that would do anything but make it worse.

The Master continued to thrust and groan, his face flush almost as red as his collar as he edged you closer and closer to release. You struggled to even control your mouth, groans and cries of pleasure escaping your throat as you completely fell apart in the Masters lap. Everything was building up inside of you, your body absolutely ready to feel the warm wave of release course through your very being. All you were waiting on was the Masters word.

And then it finally arrived.

“Cum”

You felt your whole body ricochet from the sudden release of pressure. Your scream was painfully desperate as you felt yourself fold into nothingness in the Masters lap. You gave in completely, the warmth spreading through your entire body as you climaxed hard and fast upon the Masters still hard cock. Tears were mixing with the streaming sweat as you slumped forward against the Master's chest, the Time Lord chuckling as your exhausted eyes fluttered shut on impact. You were about to sleepily flirt, much like usual, sweetening the already malleable Master with your flattering words and praises, when a loud bang sent your eyes flying wide open.

One by one, the time locks that ran up the Masters spine unclasped and plummeted down to the floor, collecting in a heap as they slid through the back of the chair. You picked your head up to look at the Master, sweat dripping from his brow and sprinkles caught in his stubble, watching as the Time Lords face slowly began to spread into a dangerous grin. You felt a chill go down your spine as he slowly began to unfold his arms, forcing you to sit up in his lap, supporting yourself by pushing down on his thighs.

“Well then”

The Master purred, pulling his arms free from their clasps. His fingers wriggled within the triangle shaped tip of the sleeve, his hands reaching up to slickly unclasp the thick red collar from around his neck. It fell to the floor, joining the locks, fork, and what was left of the plate. He looked down at you with a typical, Masterful, Cheshire cat grin.

“Would you look at that?”

Instinctively you gulped, looking up at the Master as he lifted your chin with his cloth covered fingers.

“Now I don't know about you, love, but I've noticed you’ve been getting a little bit too cheeky for my liking.”

At best, you sent him a weak smile. You knew what was about to happen.

“And I have hands now. Lucky, lucky you.”

“I'm guessing you’re going to punish me now, aren't you Master?”

The Master shushed you, tutting as he shook his head. He still clasped your chin in his hand.

“You said it yourself, dear. I can't punish the birthday girl. But I can encourage her to help me get the release I so lovingly provided for her. It's only fair, after all. If there happens to be a lesson or two learned in the process? Call that an added bonus.”

You chuckled weakly as the Master guided you to stand, supporting your still twitching hips as you sent him a wry smile.

“Y’know Master, there's a phrase we have on earth. You can't have your cake and eat it too.”

The Master tilted his head, his mouth making a small ‘o’ shape as he crooked an eyebrow. It soon melted away into a gentle smile, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Oh, my love.” he grinned, a chuckle building in his throat as he pecked the top of your forehead.

“I just did.”

All of a sudden you felt yourself being lifted into the air, the impact of the Masters shoulder against your stomach knocking the wind out of your system. He barked out a proud laugh as he raised a hand to spank your already reddened ass, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh of your hip as you gave a surprised yelp.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” he cried, laughing as he carried you towards the bedroom, where god knows what painful pleasure awaited you.

“I hope the birthday girl has room for seconds!”

#doctor who #sacha dhawan #the master #bbc doctor who #dhawan!master #bbc #sacha!master #spymaster #doctor who season twelve #dhawan!master / reader #dhawan!master x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #master x you #the master x you #the master x reader #reader #reader insert

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impracticaldemon · 6 years

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Chaos Theory: Sasuke Ch. 2

by impracticaldemon

Chapter 2: The Oda Strike Back

Author's Note: The sequel to my first Ikesen Sasuke story (Do You Have a Fever?). Welcome to chapter 2. Chapter 2 still isn't ns/fw. Sorry. On the bright side: Mitsuhide. Also, Chapter 3 is also done and much steamier.

Thank you to all for your support, kind notes, reviews, fun tags and so on!

~ Impracticaldemon [Read on FFN HERE]

The Oda Strike Back

I didn't see Sasuke for over a week after The Episode of the Wardrobe Malfunction (also playing in my embarrassing moments highlight reel as The Day I Got High and Snuggled Sasuke). A week wasn't actually very long, but I harboured deep suspicions that his buddy Yukimura was keeping him away with comments like, "You can't trust those wild boar women, Sasuke—show even a moment's weakness, and they're all over you."

Of course, that was probably unfair to both guys. Sasuke wouldn't tell even his BFF—Sasuke's term, employed with his customary lack of expression—about what had happened. Probably. And Yukimura and I got along pretty well now, except when his tactlessness got the better of my patience. He just doesn't have my appreciation for your charming naiveté, noted my inner Mitsuhide, before I slammed the (mental) door on his comments.

In any event, whether it was Sasuke's gift of ibuprofen that helped me, or the unintentional snuggling, I got over my cold in record time, and then spent a week hoping to see my fellow time-traveler so that I could apologize for my behaviour. Inevitably, certain people made a point of commenting on my occasional lapses of attention.

"How are you feeling today, Chieko?" asked Mitsuhide, his lips curving into what the naïve might call a smile. Apparently, he was spending some quality spymaster-conqueror time with Nobunaga this morning.

"Fine, thanks. Why do you ask?" I paused, politely handed Nobunaga his morning correspondence, and then added, "It was just a cold, and I recovered six days ago." I gave him my haughtiest don't-mess-with-me-this-morning look. A pointless effort, but he'd asked every day since I'd—completely accidentally, and while under the influence of opium—pressed my aching head into Sasuke's surprisingly well-defined chest. For the record, Sasuke had done a fine job of holding on to me once I was there, so—

A soft huff of amusement from the white-haired Machiavelli of the Oda forces suggested that I might have inadvertently lost focus at a bad time. I glanced up at Nobunaga to see whether he'd noticed anything, but he appeared to be skimming through the letters I'd brought. I resumed my attempt at a withering glare, and tried to will away the ridiculous—and entirely uncalled for—blush that was creeping across my cheeks.

"I am merely concerned about the health of our dear chatelaine, after her recent illness." Mitsuhide's long, white lashes concealed the predatory gleam that no doubt lurked in his snaky golden eyes, but nobody was fooled.

"Perhaps; however, you do keep asking." Nobunaga's incisive tones were curious, rather than annoyed, but they demanded a response. So much for my small hope that Azuchi's premier candy thief wasn't paying attention. "She doesn't look ill, Mitsuhide, she looks infatuated. Does it involve you in some way?"

What?!

"I am not infatuated with—with anyone!"

Mitsuhide ignored me. "Alas, I do not believe that I am the object of her desire," he lamented, with patently false regret. Nobunaga shot him an oddly appraising look, but his so-called left-hand man merely returned his usual slithery smile.

"Well, Chieko? If it's not an entanglement with Mitsuhide, then what is it?"

I kept my eyes on Nobunaga, unwilling to risk looking at The Bane of My Existence. A sudden idea skittered through my brain.

"I'm not entangled with anyone, Nobunaga. However, I must admit that my thoughts have turned to Mitsuhide quite often of late."

For once, if only for a fraction of a second, both men looked surprised.

"Really now?" Mitsuhide was suddenly beside me. "Do tell!" Now that he was looking down at me—and so close!—I felt just the tiniest bit apprehensive. He was a snake who preferred to play with his food before finishing it off. Sometimes I curse my powers of imagination.

I took a calming breath, and resisted the compulsion to look up into Mitsuhide's eyes. I addressed my reply to Nobunaga.

"You see, Mitsuhide has been like an uncle to me"—I thought I saw a look of appreciation cross Nobunaga's face—"and recently I've found that he comes to mind when I am faced with a difficult decision."

"I see." Nobunaga managed to imply enjoyment without actually changing expression. Then his attention returned to his desk. "Mitsuhide, we have work to do."

"Of course, my lord." Mitsuhide's eyes were gleaming with mischief, and I suddenly felt a qualm or ten about my decision to poke back a little. A slender finger caressed my cheek in a way that was not at all avuncular; I was unable to fully suppress a shiver—of apprehension, mostly. Only mostly? Good grief! "Good morning then, my dear Chieko. Rest assured that I will keep an even closer eye on you, now that I know how much you look up to me."

I managed a rather sickly smile as I left. Baka! Idiot! What the hell were you thinking? Mitsuhide Rule Number One: Do not, under any circumstances, try to play his game—any of his games. You will lose, and not even the occasional, fleeting victory is worth it.

When I got back to my room, I decided to go down into the market instead of returning to work with the seamstresses as originally intended. Maybe I could find Yukimura, and warn him that Mitsuhide seemed to be uncomfortably aware of Sasuke's activities in and around the castle. When Inner Mitsuhide snickered at the word 'activities', I may have snarled aloud.

Unfortunately, Yukimura wasn't in his usual spot. My heart sank, although I tried to keep the disappointment off my face as I pretended to browse the wares in nearby shops and stalls. After half an hour of searching—and a rather convoluted walk around the market area—I was forced to admit how much I'd been hoping to see Sasuke again, and how worried I was that I might not see him again for a long time.

"Hsst, ojō-san! A moment of your time!" The words were pretty standard for both beggars and merchants, but the hushed tones made no sense. Plus, who used words like 'psst' and 'hsst' outside of old novels?

I was about to take a quick step back—strangers trying to kidnap me had been an issue in the past—when I realized that the stooped, oddly-dressed figure was the man I most wanted to see. He was wearing the traveler's traditional flat straw hat, and strange clothing, but it was Sasuke. My heart started to beat a little faster, and my attempt to play it cool failed miserably as I rushed headlong into the narrow, shadowed lane.

"Sasuke! I've"—one hand gripped my shoulder, and another pressed against my mouth, preventing further speech.

"Sorry Chieko, we need to get out of here. Okay?" Sasuke sounded apologetic, but didn't remove his hand until I nodded. His fingers seemed to linger on my face for a moment longer than necessary. A weird part of my brain replayed the sensation of Mitsuhide's mocking caress earlier, cataloguing similarities and differences. Then the hand on my shoulder slid down to close firmly over mine, and a giddy, swooping feeling in my stomach made me a little light-headed. I winced internally as I felt the goofy smile hit my face. You are an independent, adult woman, not a fourteen-year-old with a crush! Despite my best efforts, Mitsuhide's smirk flashed across my mind, followed by Nobunaga's irritatingly knowing expression.

Sasuke was already moving by the time I got my head together, and I had to hurry to keep up with him. Despite his obvious anxiety to leave town quickly, his grip never tightened too far, nor did his pace increase beyond what I could handle in my kimono and sandals. For some reason, I could feel myself smiling again. Pull it together, Chieko! He's just a considerate guy, not some kind of hero. I mean, you didn't see him for a week, and now he's dragging you off somewhere without an explanation! And you're happy about it! (Mental eye-roll.)

Out of nowhere, my usually quiescent—more like comatose—romantic self downed a few shots of espresso, sat up, and took umbrage. And how many considerate guys have you actually met in the last couple of years? Right? So shut up! I had a point, I conceded, blithely going where I was tugged.

Actually, Mitsunari was often considerate, if not always helpful. And Hideyoshi could be very considerate, once you got past his—let's be honest—obsession with Nobunaga, and if you didn't mind Extreme Fussing™. Masamune was a good guy—and a great cook—despite living life at twice normal speed. In fact, they all had their own ways of being kind, even Mitsuhide, although his version was subtle, and usually involved him entertaining himself at your expense while helping you. Fine, noted my romantic self, now sipping gently at a mild green tea with lemon, but you're not holding hands with any of them.

We traversed several of Azuchi's less pleasant lanes and back-streets, before emerging onto a footpath leading across a meadow toward a not-too-distant wood. It was a beautiful day, and bright flowers were scattered throughout the waving grasses. Sasuke came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the meadow, and I careened into his back. He automatically helped me to regain my footing, but his eyes remained fixed on some point ahead of us—at least, the glint of sunlight off his half-concealed glasses suggested that he was staring at something.

"Um—Sasuke?"

"I'm fine. Just don't move."

I still couldn't understand what was wrong, but I did my best to obey, a little relieved to get a break from trying to hurry in geta. I continued to peer around Sasuke's side—though without moving too much. The grip on my hand tightened a little, and my companion looked down at me and then away.

"We'll have to go around. I'm sorry about this—it will be slightly harder for you underfoot."

"Sasuke, what are we going around?"

His expression didn't change, but his cheeks and neck reddened a little. Was he embarrassed? His expression was as difficult to read as ever, especially since his upper face was in shadow under his straw hat.

"…Could we discuss that later? Right now we have to get under cover. Though it was clever of you to lose them back in the market."

"Lose who?" I demanded, starting forward a little reluctantly this time.

"Lord Mitsuhide's agents. I thought that was why you travelled so randomly around the market area."

I was stuck on the first part.

"Agents? Mitsuhide's agents?"

"My hypothesis was erroneous, it seems."

We were moving again, but a little more slowly than before. The grasses in this area had been regularly scythed, and there were no flowers. There wasn't so much a path as a wide, rather barren field that appeared to go on all the way to the trees in the middle distance.

"I guess so—that you were mistaken. I have no idea what's going on." I was momentarily distracted by a different question. Or maybe I just had too many things to think about at once and fixed on something irrelevant. "I wonder why this area is all grass? I hadn't thought about it before, but it's like this all the way around the town, pretty much. Not short and hard-packed like this, but you know what I mean." You're babbling, dear. Yeah, I'd noticed, thanks.

Sasuke's grip loosened a little, as though he appreciated the break from more difficult subjects (whatever they were). Naturally, he knew the answer to my not-quite-question.

"Most castle towns are like this—in Europe as well as Japan, from what I've read. You don't want an army to be able to creep up on your castle or castle town. So you cut down the forest around the town. The area we're crossing now is where the Oda forces drill. That's why it's so hard underfoot, and the grass has bare patches."

"They've been at war for a long time, haven't they? All of them, I mean." After two months, I'd finally gotten my head around it, but sometimes the whole Warring States thing really hit me.

"Yes. Over a hundred years already—so not just the existing warlords, but their fathers and grandfathers and so on. It was a terrible time, but…" Sasuke slowed, and I knew without looking up that his expression had become both more animated and a little distant.

"But there were some brilliant and wonderful people?" I asked softly, not wanting to break this brief sense of being outside all of the bloodshed and disaster. I could pretend to be out on a summer walk with a friend, just chatting—for no apparent reason—about historical Japan. Do you always hold hands with your friends? No—now go away, you're interrupting my fantasy. …Which involves holding hands with a Sengoku fanboy named after a famous, but probably fictional ninja?

"Yes, exactly," said the fanboy in question. For a moment, I couldn't recall which question he was answering, and just stared at him blankly. "…Chieko?"

We were almost at the edge of the wooded area, but Sasuke stopped and peered at me as though trying to figure out why I'd stopped working. I found myself holding my breath, keenly aware of just how close he was now that we were facing each other. He still had my hand, and my imagination was starting to get the better of me.

"I was just thinking things over," I said hastily, trying to ignore the fact that he looked adorable, even in the ridiculous straw hat. Wait—seriously? Adorable?

"I see. It's true that there's a great deal to consider. For my part, although I can't condone the way in which violence is used as the first—and often only—approach to dispute resolution, I have come to greatly respect the warlords with whom I've served, even beyond my pre-existing, quite considerable admiration. I suspect that they are all suffering from various mental health issues, but despite this, they seem more alive, more vibrant, than most of the people I know back home."

I found myself nodding at his words, and saw his lips curve into his rare, rather shy smile. My heartbeat sped up further. "I'm glad we can talk about things like this, Chieko," he told me earnestly. "I mean, I realize that you are the only other time traveller here—that I know of—but, just for the record, I consider myself fortunate that you were the person who was inadvertently trapped here with me."

"Oh…" I managed feebly. Was that some kind of confession, or was Sasuke just that oblivious?

There was a short, possibly awkward silence. Then Sasuke's eyes went very wide behind his glasses, and he quickly took a half-step backward, letting go of my hand. This time the blush was unmistakeable.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean—that is, we should keep going. This is all because of the—of them—being in the way when you were sick. Chaos rides on their fluttering wings. I should have known that something like this would happen."

Sasuke's last two or three sentences were muttered under his breath and largely incomprehensible to me. I had the impression that I wouldn't have understood even if I'd heard him properly.

We slipped under the shade of the trees just a few minutes later, and Sasuke took off the hat and peasant's kimono he'd used as a disguise—principally for changing his outline, he explained, although the hat was also useful for concealing his glasses (less reflected light off the lenses). Before I could ask any questions, he told me that we were "almost there," and moved silently away. His cheeks were no longer red, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes.

Despite Sasuke's assurances, it took another twenty minutes to reach our destination. Yukimura was waiting at the door of a small wooden hut, looking just about as twitchy and irritable as I was starting to feel. My sandals were pretty, but not appropriate attire for hurrying over rough ground, or through the woods. And my sore feet were the least of my worries.

"Sasuke! Where the hells have you been, moron?! You were supposed to be back here an hour ago—at least!"

"I'm sorry I'm late," Sasuke replied calmly, pausing to exchange a complicated fist bump that looked distinctly out-of-place in Sengoku Japan. "Things came up."

"What's that supposed to mean? You said you needed to tell Chieko about some stuff and then we could go. Have you even told her anything yet?"

"Hi Yukimura, nice to see you again," I said politely.

"Right—hi. I'm afraid we've got go now. Akechi's really turned up the heat in the last few days, since Sasuke's last mission went wrong somehow."

They were returning to Kasugayama? For good? I brushed away a sudden—and totally excessive—sense of disappointment. And something went wrong with Sasuke's last mission? Anything involving Mitsuhide was potentially dangerous.

"Sorry, I really don't know what's going on. Sasuke kind of grabbed me from the market and now we're here." I gave Yukimura my best innocent bystander look. He frowned, but it wasn't the scowl that I used to get. His eyes flicked over to Sasuke, and I sensed something like concern. I was impressed with the lack of eye-roll.

"Well? Do you need a bit more time? As long as you didn't accidentally lead anybody here—"

"I didn't." Sasuke's reply was unusually terse.

"Okay, fine. Just remember that everyone makes mistakes, even you, so—"

"I have never assumed that I am infallible, Yukimura. However—"

"Then stop beating yourself up for making one mistake, okay? It's annoying. Besides, we had to leave now anyway, as it turns out."

"…I understand."

This time, Yukimura did roll his eyes, but I couldn't blame him. What was going on with Sasuke?

"Alright, I'm heading out. You, uh, explain things to Chieko, then catch up to me." He gave me a quick nod, and a wry smile. "See you 'round, Chieko. Don't run off any cliffs after we've gone, okay?"

"Sure thing, Yukimura." My return smile wasn't feigned—it was an old jibe, and the guy had saved my life. "Look after yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Although—" Yukimura hesitated, then shook his head. "It's just weird, you know? The people I need to watch out for most are your buddies on the Oda forces. And vice versa." The last was said with chilling sincerity.

"As I explained before," interposed Sasuke, "Chieko values personal friendships above the feudal ties of lord and vassal. She wants everyone to be safe."

Yukimura just shook his head again—at me, at Sasuke, at life in general. "That's not how it works. But—hope you can stay out of the worst of it, Chieko. See you soon, Sasuke. No offence to Chieko, but we've got some feudal ties to honour. And Lord Kenshin won't go easy on you if you're late."

"I am aware of the value that Lord Kenshin places on loyal service. I will rendezvous with you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?! You're using weird words again, but tomorrow? We're due back—"

"ASAP. I know. But I have a few more loose ends to tie up."

There was a brief stare-off, then Yukimura shrugged. "It's your neck. Literally."

On that valedictory—and ominous—note, Yukimura turned and strode off. He navigated the undergrowth without difficulty, the sword on his hip and spear on his back as comfortable and familiar as his tunic and trousers. All at once I felt like I was seeing Sanada Yukimura the warlord, rather than Yukimura, Sasuke's merchant friend.

[END]

A/Note:

Stay tuned for chapter 3, where things get decidedly more risqué! Okay, but Sasuke is just an overachieving cinnamon-roll and I ♥ him.

Tags: @cherryb0mb79 @shell-senji @nalufever @hidetheremote @eliz1369 @iamaikotachibana @flower-dragon @canadiangaap @yum-chan @llama-in-socks (thank you for wanting more!)

Thank you to @acrispyapple for your kindness. ♥ (also, Byron - nuff said)

#ikesen #ikesen fanfiction #sarutobi sasuke #ficsforvera #impracticaldemon #imp writes #cybird otome

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swissmissficrecs · 6 years

Note

Hi! I really really love works like Through the Clouds and The Sea in a Chasm and Horse and Carriage where one of the boys proposes marriage or retirement together and the other struggles with what that means about their "friendship". Do you have any other fics you can rec me along that vein? I'd also love fics where Sherlock marries them without telling John!

Reply: I love these too! First of all, here are some relatedlists:

Fakerelationship

Couplestherapy

Gettingtogether late in life

And here are the ones you mentioned in case anyone else would liketo look them up:

Horse andCarriage by flawedamythyst (60K, Teen, Johnlock)Sherlockproposes. John thinks the whole idea is ludicrous.

Through theClouds by mazarin221b (20K, Explicit, Johnlock)Sherlock takesa remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a changeof pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the SouthDowns, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quietcontemplation, bee studies, and book writing.They might go completelyinsane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’reliving to find the life you want.

The Sea in aChasm [orphaned] (17K, Teen, Johnlock and John/OFC)WhenSherlock decides to retire to Sussex, John decides to find out who heis without Sherlock.

Now I know I have read a couple of fics where Sherlock (or Mycroft) secretly procured a marriage license for them for medical or case-related purposes without John’s knowledge, but unfortunately I am not able to find them right now so if anyone else knows one please let us know! I can give you a bunch of others, though, in which thoughts of marriage lead to angst and re-examination of the relationship:

This is a very close second (and one of my all-time favorite fics)in which Sherlock pretends to be married to John without John’sknowledge:

The Good Morrowseries by greywash (213K, Explicit, Johnlock)My post-S2series where everyone has a lot of feels about everything andplausibility isstretched unto breaking. Also: fucking.

In this one, Sherlock thinks John is going to propose but hedoesn’t, leading to relationship re-evaluation:

Stood in History by philalethia (18K, Explicit, Johnlock)He discovered the ring in John’s sock drawer. It all went a bit downhill from there.

In these, one or the other of them thinks about proposing for areally long time:

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (32K, Explicit, Johnlock)And Sherlock stands there, in the middle of a Christmas market as John hums along to Silent Night, John’s hand warm in his with fingertips a little gritty from the cinnamon-sugar doused churros they’d shared, and thinks, oh, that’s–that’s an idea, isn’t it?*For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves.

The One With the Proposal by kim47 (22K, Explicit, Johnlock)Proposing shouldn’t be this difficult.Written for this prompt at the kink meme: Remember that episode of Friends where Chandler is going to propose to Monica and how he pretends that he doesn’t care about marriage so she’ll be really surprised? How about a version of it with Sherlock and John with Sherlock being the one that wants to propose but pretends that he has no desire for it?

About Sleep and Coffee and the Existence of Fate by Atiki (17K, Explicit, Johnlock)Naturally, John was startled when suddenly the ultimate solution occurred to him: Marriage. This was, of course, a bit of a fundamental problem rather than an actual solution. One didn’t simply use the words “Sherlock” and “marriage” within the same sentence. Not even in a hypothetical context. (Five times John kind of wanted to propose to Sherlock, and one time he didn’t have to.)

In these, both of them angst a whole lot over getting married:

Sketchy Part 2 by serpentynka (158K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mycroft/OMC)What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. (A continuation of plot arcs from Part 1 of Sketchy) When the world’s only consulting detective starts dreaming of bowing out, his dearest person in the world is more than willing to go with him. It would seem that all that’s left to do is choose a date and leave London. The machinations that be are never quite what they seem.

God Help Me, I Do by PlainJane (90K, Explicit, Johnlock and Mollstrade)A consulting detective, two doctors, a forensic pathologist, a DI, a senior citizen, a recovering alcoholic and the British government walk into a register office…John and Sherlock have resolved to be together as much more than just colleagues or friends, but how will their relationship change between the proposal and the wedding? Follow along as they learn about themselves and about each other. How will they share their news with those closest to them? How will John adjust to the reality of being in a relationship with a man instead of a woman? How will they both find time and space for personal and professional lives? And how will Sherlock cope with the intensity of true love? Cases, chuckles, angst and lots of good loving on the journey to one very unconventional wedding day.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (39K, Explicit, Johnlock)Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding...

This has a similar premise to Horse and Carriage:

The Important Bit by Solshine (10K, G, Johnlock)Just where exactly is the line between “to love” and “to be in love”? What difference is required between “flatmate” and “husband”? (Besides the rings, obviously.) No, the important bit is that they have each other. Thirty years, give or take, in an atypical marriage. Basically a long bit of platonic domestic fluff.

And finally these in which they get engaged/married for a case(with John’s knowledge) and it becomes serious:

Thanks to the Barbarians by queen_jadis (10K, Explicit, Johnlock)John and Sherlock get married for a case, which both of them find hilarious - until they realise that they can’t get a divorce. The offensive piece of paper has more effect on their relationship than John thinks it has any right to do.

A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (91K, Teen, Johnlock)John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level…

Till Death Do Us Part by prettysailorsoldier (15K, Mature, Johnlock)When Sherlock links a recent spree of murder-suicides to a psychologist who specializes in marriage counseling, there’s really only one thing to do: Go undercover as a couple in hopes of drawing the killer out. Faking a relationship seems easy enough, but things take a turn when their real issues start to creep into the sessions, and, all the while, a killer is watching, waiting in the shadows for their chance to strike.

Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by distantstarlight (96K, Explicit, Johnlock)For his entire life Sherlock Holmes has had complete mastery over his transport. He drives it harder than he should, is careless with it, and makes it bend to his will. His transport has always done it’s duty but lately Sherlock’s transport has been making some demands.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (16K, NC-17, Johnlock)John, we need to get married.

Mountebank by Odamaki (26K, Mature, Johnlock)“I am calm,” John snaps, leaning on the door to glare out at the dark streets around them. Sherlock’s not said where they’re going; all he knows is they came off the ring road to the west of London and have vanished somewhere into the depths of Berkshire. All he knows is that he’s been trussed up in a suit that wasn’t hired from anywhere and if brought new would edge up into the triple figure margins. “Be calmer,” Sherlock advises, with a trace of irony. “We’re going to a party.”

The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (9K, Explicit, Johnlock)What it says on the tin: John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game.Of course it’s for a case.Of course it doesn’t stay that way.

The Pretence of an Unacknowledged Truth by stickleworting (28K, Explicit, Johnlock) He’s decided to just be himself, cliché as it sounds. The lie about being Sherlock’s mate will be difficult enough to keep up, he’s not going to think up more of a charade regarding himself on top of that. If he uses the wrong fork at dinner, fine. If someone calls him on it, he’ll just stab them with it. Job done.First attempt at Omegaverse because a very good friend of mine likes it, and I like my friend. She asked for: alpha!John/omega!Sherlock; age difference; pretend bondmates to meet Sherlock’s family; synthesised bond scent; and bonding in Sherlock’s old bedroom. I think I’m managing to cram it all in for you, sweetpea ;) No mpreg, I’m afraid. That was a stretch too far.

#rec list #request

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united-we-stand-politics · 4 years

Text

Another Trumpet Bites The Dust

So, I got called a "creep" for defending Biden against this dumb fuckery. I'm a creep because they were embarrassed...... not because they reflected for TEN SECONDS and realized, okay you have a point. This DOES make me look like a hypocrite and quietly deleting the post hoping no one else would see it. They did it because they knew DAMN WELL how WRONG they really were and can't stand how much they embarrassed THEMSELF. The typical Chump supporter is a fellow narcissist and the narcissistic personality can never admit fault, even when they're caught RED HANDED. They post all this crap about Holy Trump this, and Godsend Trump that, and then post something criticizing another for the EXACT SAME THING?! There's a word for that.

hypocrite

noun

hyp·o·crite | \ ˈhi-pə-ˌkrit \

Definition of hypocrite

1: a person who puts on a false appearance of virtue or religion

2: a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings

I wonder if they realize that they are the literal definition of this word when it comes to definitions 1 and 2? 🤣🤣

So, here's what happened. Sean Hannity tried to make a big deal of #JoeBiden kissing his own granddaughter on the lips. I don't BELIEVE that I have to explain this, but some families do that. I kiss my daughter on the cheek, but she's a mouth kisser. So, I kiss her on the mouth. I researched this a few years ago when she started doing this as I was raised to kiss the cheek and felt weird about it. What I found was that child psychologists say there's nothing wrong with it and in fact, encourage it in some instances. Truth be told - there's no "right way" to show affection to your children, loved ones and that any affection shown to a child is a good thing.

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-election/biden-kiss-granddaughter-lips-hannity-trump-ivanka-a9315351.html

Now, it's one thing to talk about someone politically, but to say the things that some are saying about him is just plain wrong. Imagine someone said that about you...?! Not to mention the fact that the guy these people support has ACTUALLY been ACCUSED of sexual assault by over FIFTY women, two of which were minors, one of which came out with her allegations against Trump and Epstein BEFORE the election and BEFORE Epstein was EVER accused by anyone else!!! 😲😲

https://www.snopes.com/news/2016/06/23/donald-trump-rape-lawsuit/amp/

I find it rather hypocritical, ignorant and foolish, (not to mention embarrassing), how Trump's base constantly accuses others of doing the same exact shit that Trump does, with NO EVIDENCE to back up their claims WHATSOEVER. That is HIS granddaughter and she seemed perfectly content to me. You'd think they'd learn after they got caught doctoring that one video of Joe Biden, Jeff Sessions and his grandkid. It turns out that the video was doctored by a "YouTuber". (Surprise, surprise.) They call these "deep fake" videos, mostly purported by the right.

Furthermore, by their own standards, Trump HAS to be a child molester. If pictures of kissing a family member on the mouth makes one a child molester, than he is guilty as all get out. I highly doubt they would like to address the PLETHORA of pictures and videos of Trump inappropriately touching his daughter at young ages? Or do they not know anything about that? (Of COURSE they know.) Or is it okay because no matter what that PIG does, people back him up anyway because the non-existent-never-gonna-happen wall is more important? (Racism at it's HEIGHT).

Picture 1:

Ivanka and her Dad at age 14. His hand is under her breast. He must be a child molester!

Picture 2:

Ivanka at age 14 being inappropriately touched by her father.

Picture 3:

At age 17 sitting on her Dad's lap. Sorry. That's a bit inappropriate in my OPINION. He must be a child molester.

Picture 4:

Ivanka at age 15. Her Dad's hand around her hip again. I find this also inappropriate. He must be a child molester per your observations.

Pictures 5-7:

The Trumps in 2017. His hand is on her hips while his fingers rest on his daughter's ASS. DEFINITELY not cool. He must be a child molester!!

Pictures 8-9:

And last but not least, TRUMP KISSING HIS OWN DAUGHTER ON THE LIPS.

They walked into that one, just like Hannity did. He's the epitome of a hypocrite, so I'd steer clear of repeating anything he says if you folks want people to ever take you seriously.

Now, at the end of the day, I ALWAYS do my research. I read...a LOT... and I am VERY intelligent. I know the difference between real accusations and a smear campaign, especially after Trump got CAUGHT smearing Biden, Yovanovich, and several others. (This is why you can't just spew forth anything that comes to the top of your head. No one believes you - even when you're telling the truth.) Now... Joe Biden is one of those touchy feely people. I'M A TOUCHY FEELY TYPE OF PERSON. I DARE someone to call ME a child molester. Im not Joe!! I'll find you and beat the fuckin brakes off of you. But, since Joe IS A GOOD PERSON, he put out a statement saying he understands why some might misconstrue his intentions. That's funny, because I sure the hell can't. I can tell you that I am a VERY affectionate person and no one has EVER accused me of such a thing. Why? Besides the obvious, it's not NORMAL to compare a touchy feely personality WITH A CHILD MOLESTER!!!!!!!!!! What the actual fuck, man? I'm sick of these dirty politics and Russian propaganda in my face every day. No offense to the Trump supporters on my buddy list, but if this post describes you, than you need to WAKE UP. Joe took the HIGH ROAD. He not only answered to his incredible allegations, and said that he would work on not being so touchy feely in the future.

https://youtu.be/1jc5Ec8SWQk

So, now all you have left is the very real lawsuit against Trump for RAPING a THIRTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL. Make a post of your outrage at this incident or SHUT THE FUCK UP because no one worth a fuck is falling for it.

I will also explain WHY this doesn't make sense EITHER WAY you spin it, to those of you who STILL just don't GET IT. Let's say for shits and giggles that yesterday I posted something nasty about another clean addict on the methadone clinic and said that they weren't really clean. Then today, I post something else congratulating a different methadone patient on their "sobriety". Now, would you be able to take ANYTHING I said in the future regarding addiction, or anything else for that matter, seriously? No. Of course you wouldn't. Why? Because you would have seen that I had contradicted myself via hypocrisy. You would have seen that I had already stated that I don't believe such a person is clean, so why the FUCK would I congratulate someone for something I believed they were NOT. I WOULDN'T. I'm not a hypocrite. You do the math. 😉😉❤❤

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