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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

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Da Capo

Dialogue Prompt 16- " because I love you, is that what you wanted to hear " requested by @sunflowerishdolphin ( your last remaining request ) | TW- NONE |

Da Capo-(Italian: from the beginning); at the end of a piece of music or a section of it, means that it should be played or sung again from the beginning.

He shut the door behind him, locking immediately, putting those grocery bags on the counter and turned on the voice Machine , picking up the mails from the corner table reading who addressed them as he simultaneously heard the voice messages like his usual evening, a routine that had became a practice.

" you have 2 new messages "

" hey harry, this is Clint. Send me those pictures via e-mail, could you ? Call me when you get back "

Harry subconsciously nodded as he read the next mail addressed from the burrow.

" harry "

He stopped dead in his movements as he stared at the tiles on the floor, hearing that very familiar voice.

" I- I know I should not- you know- never mind. Uh, call me or not, whatever. Just- how do you end this-" the voice message echoed with rustling until it ended with a beep and harry couldn't bring himself to stop the beeping.

When one of the apple fell down over the ground creating a thud, harry broke free from his locked moment of strangeness and shut off the beep. He stared at the number long enough to remember his past, the horrors, the pain, the anguish, the agony of it all but he couldn't resist himself from Noting down the number on the notepad and just staring at it.

He had called, 1 year and 6 months later, he had called.

Harry left the notepad like it had been resting on the counter and went out to the garden to water his plants and get some peace from the quick Sand of the emotions that had started overwhelming in the presence of the noted down number. But it didn't help the rail of his thoughts that resulted in overflowing of the pots.

The evening had turned into a chilly night yet without a care he kept staring at the TV screen blankly, finding it hard to forget that voice message. That familiarity in the voice had almost Haunted harry every night in dreams and that un-advanced way of not knowing still how to end a voice message made harry smile if only for a moment but he was strongly reminded of how had things ended, in fights, In rush, in sadness, in heart break.

He wanted to call back and ask him why had he called, he even stood before the phone, dialing almost the entire number but could never gather the entire courage to actually call him back. How could he ? After everything that had happened, how could he?

It had been almost 1 and half year since harry moved to a small town in Paris living in a muggle suburb and still learning French but he had sat in his balcony drowning in rain, yet he never felt at home. He never wanted to leave Britain, London but what choice did he had but to leave everything behind and start new, a fresh start and yet all he felt was moving backwards. He loved it here, the neighborhood, the children on the streets, the grocery man, Adrian's little shop around the corner yet the smell of the Rain, the smell of laundry, the Blooming garden, the sunlight, nothing felt the same, not like how it was when he was with him. Nothing ever felt the same anymore .

Somewhere around blankly staring at the TV, the screen had Turned grey with no more left to watch when harry forcibly picked himself up and put himself to bed, relentlessly tossing and turning until sleep had returned to him like previous night's.

You can't stop thinking about me .

That's not true.

Do you really think so? Then why am I here ?

You tell me.

He sighed, his voice flourishing and sounding like the softest of breeze, you can feel it too, can't you, you know I will be there with you..

I can't feel anything. A pause.

You're coming?

Do you want me to ?

Harry tossed one last time, slowly opening his eyes in the silence of the night and the street light outside flickering with yellow and black. He sighed to himself as he sat right up and followed the line of sight to where the phone was kept.

" hi, draco, hi- uh, you called. I- didn't know about it- just got your message- I wanted to check what you called for so leave me a message or call me in the mor-"

" harry?"

Harry stilled with the phone pressed against his ear, his breathing sounding very clear like he had held the phone very close to himself as if holding it too close would make the conversation more real.

He stared at his feets on the ground comprehending how to respond, he had not expected draco to pick up-

" harry, you there ?"

" yeah, yeah. Uh sorry- I just- " he breathed " isn't it late ?"

" sort of yeah. I just- I came from a run "

" this late at night ?"

" yeah " he breathed.

Harry breathed.

" you called earlier ?"

" yeah " a long pause before he released a rolling breath and spoke again " I'm visiting Paris and I- I know you're there, so I was just wondering if you'd like to meet sometime if you're free of course ?"

Harry's fingers coiled to the telephone loop, a little smile forming over his lips as he whispered " Sure. When ?"

" this weekend "

" I'll pick you up ?"

" that'd be- nice " he breathed.

" okay "

They breathed.

" I'll send the details via mail " he added

" okay "

And they finally cut the call but all harry did was stare at his feets on the ground crossed together as if it offered any peace.

_______________________________

The sun had rose like usual with the birds chirping just outside Harry's balcony, the usual ringing of his alarm clock went unnoticed as harry stepped out of the long shower. He padded across the room water dripping down his neck due to his washed hair, finally shutting off the Alarm. He stared at the watch as minutes stroke by, his mind lost in the moving of the minute hands until a shiver has ran down his spine and he dropped the clock on the bed and fetched the shirt and the pants he has decided to worn a day before. The same blue flowy shirt and the same Khaki pants.

Anxiety was not a surprise visitor anymore as harry fidgeted wearing his watch over his rest and tying his shoe laces that at some point, harry left them be thinking that if he'd fall, he'd fall. He ran all around the apartment going from one room to another to living room because his things were scattered all across until finally the clock stroke 12 and harry left the apartment in his second hand ford from 1985.

Harry leaned against his car in front of the France ministry of magic building waiting for draco to come with sun bouncing over his soft brunette hair, checking his watch every minute or two.

And there he was, the same boy walking through the door carrying 2 bags in a soft cotton red faded shirt and washed blue jeans.

" waited for long ?"he asked awkwardly.

Harry shook his head as he took his bags and dropped them in back seat.

" I- harry- I just wanted to ask something "

Harry frowned but nodded as he opened the car door for draco.

" this isn't awkward, is it ?"

Harry huffed out a breath, glancing behind draco for a moment. Was it awkward,of course but he Wanted to settle through the awkwardness and not be like one of those people who can't visit their ex.

" it is a bit but we'll settle in. After all we're friends, right ?"

Draco chuckled softly before he nodded " we can be "

Harry smiled before he stepped away and let draco take the passenger seat and settled into his driver's seat as well.

" Hungry ?" Harry asked as the ignition roared.

Draco nodded " very "

" I know just the place " harry smiled putting on his sunglasses and drove to exactly where he needed to.

________________________________

Things remained a bit awkward with draco as harry adjusted to all new information and forgot thinking of draco as an ex he scrambled away from and reminded himself more to treat him like the way he used to before the relationship happened.

But despite that the wicked angels that remained on Harry's shoulder reminded him to be careful this time and even if he harry heard them, he ignored as he served draco the croissant he has freshly picked up from the bakery around the corner.

" what about the eiffel tower ?" Draco asked as he sipped his lemon tea, taking the plate of croissant away from harry.

" it's overrated but worth it. It's better in the evening, I'll take you there " harry replied as he ate his own.

" oh shit- I forgot. I had to be at work 15 minutes ago. I'll see you later yeah " draco hurried with his baked food and picked up his bag he has came with and disapparated from within the apartment.

Harry collapsed down on the chair thinking to himself what was he doing. How could he just forget everything and move on and pretend like nothing happened like he had been doing for days. He hated the pretending, the " I'm doing fine without you " act or we're better as friends act, he hated it but as draco would come from the hotel every afternoon and sometimes stay by till the evening, harry would allow himself to relish in those moments and let be.

"the real question is do you really want to be friends or not ?" Jade asks as she dressed the mannequin with new shirt introduced in this work fashion line.

" i- i don't know jade. Do I want to forget everything and move forward, yes but I can't just look at him pretend we don't have a past " harry kicked the ground as he was leaned against the wall in the cubicle with jade and the white mannequin for display.

" Harry, the past is the past. It doesn't matter anymore. And you know the whole thing about ex's can't be friends,it's shit, I'm friends with my first boyfriend " jade replied with the pin between her lips as he tucked the buttons together.

" your first boyfriend is gay now. You're not helping jade-"

" look harry. Is it worth it ? Is it worth spending time with him? Is it worth meeting him again everyday ? Is it worth being friends with him again ? Those are the real questions " She asked with her head titled for emphasis, her hands in the air waiting for his response.

Harry sighed closing his eyes, opening them again and spoke " I think. He's changed a lot and he's different now"

" well there you go and you know what, even if you don't want to be friends or anything, he's just visiting. He's not going to stay here forever you know and you barely visit home, so friends or no friends, it won't matter much" jade shrugged as she put the mannequin the hat and stretched her neck backwards to check the entire look before nodding to herself and stepping out of the cubicle, harry following him.

" I guess you're right " harry mumbled. Jade nodded and they departed to their response departments of work.

When the evening arrived he met draco Outside his work building and strolled off to where they could disapparate from without being noticed.

" it's a beautiful place " draco suddenly said as they were walking down the streets.

" it is " harry hummed nodding, pocketing his hand.

" don't you ever-" Breath " like miss home ? Everyone else?" He asked

Harry thought for a moment before he replied with all he could think of " it's a part of starting fresh. I miss people back home but I love it here too, everyone's nice "

" but doesn't it ever get lonely ?" Draco asked as he now walked right by Harry's side.

" sometimes but other times I just forget " harry shrugged looking forward before crossing the road.

" forget what ?" Draco asked as he ran to maintain his pace with harry.

" forget that I'm lonely. The best way to not get lonely is just not to think of being lonely " harry shrugged as he for a moment looked at Draco before he entered the dark Empty alley.

" is it easy ?" Draco asked as he stood before harry taking his hand for side along disapparation.

Harry gazed at draco, allowing the free sensation of holding his hand making him feel closer to home before he took a step forward towards draco.

" no "

And disapparated.

Part 2 & 3

might turn into a series fiction. @drarrywords thanks for beta reading this..

300 followers appreciate dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

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faunusrights · 3 years

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what is going on with all the bias on robyn hill’s wiki page, anyway? - an aside

As someone who uses the RWBY wiki with some degree of frequency - often because I’m looking for art references, or Semblance and weapon names - I’m used to... some amount of bias in the articles for different characters? Like, let’s be real, it’s not a perfect wiki! Community-maintained stuff isn’t easy to all keep on the same track! But, generally, it gives the facts well enough and doesn’t do too bad a job keeping all the balls in the air when it comes to new information from all four corners of this franchise.

Well, until you open the article for Robyn Hill, and realise it’s an absolute disaster. Like, really; the impartial voice just plain doesn’t exist for her, and almost all of her wiki is written in such a way that she reads as being an absolutely insufferable, hostile, hard-to-like character. Even if you aren’t a fan of Robyn personally, you have to admit that if you hadn’t seen the show yourself, you might very well come away from her article presuming she’s a major antagonist of Volumes 7 and 8.

Like, for instance, let’s take a look at the first paragraph of her Personality section:

Robyn has a direct and confident personality, having no trouble being confrontational with Atlas personnel, including the Ace Operatives. Robyn also seems to suffer from overconfidence and arrogance, shown in her encounters with Ruby and celebrating her election victory before it was verified. She is aggressive and hostile in nature, quickly jumping to conflict without thinking through consequences. However, she is also shown to be reasonable when the situation calls for it.

And, for good measure, here’s another paragraph from the same section:

In "With Friends Like These" Robyn displayed a rather impulsive side of her personality, when upon hearing that James Ironwood's plan to abandon Mantle and arrest those against him, she started a fight between herself, Clover Ebi, and Qrow Branwen onboard a Manta with Tyrian Callows in custody. Despite the fact, there was no order or her arrest. Her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

(Taken from Robyn’s RWBY Wiki page. Bolding is mine.)

In every instance here, all of the “negative” aspects of her personality take centre stage; she’s confrontational. She suffers from arrogance. She is aggressive and hostile. She started the fight. Her brashness led to the crash. All of this is only compounded when her positive traits trail behind as an afterthought; she’s direct and confrontational, overconfident and arrogant, aggressive and hostile, impulsive and jumps to conclusions... but hey! As least she’s reasonable when the situation calls for it.

The way that this information is presented to the reader is quite literally on par with how the wiki presents the personalities of the actual literal villains who appear throughout the show. Let’s take, for instance, the Personality section of Cinder Fall:

Cinder is ruthless and sadistic, as demonstrated when she delivers a killing blow to a clearly defeated Pyrrha Nikos in "End of the Beginning" and when she throws a spear at a defenseless Weiss Schnee in "The More the Merrier." She is relentlessly driven to gain power and determined to cross any line to obtain it. Cinder demonstrates a cunning that shows in her successful manipulation of events and people throughout the first three volumes. Cinder is also arrogant and egomaniacal, and as such, relishes in dominance and gloating, displaying shameless pleasure in the misery she has caused others.

Or, the Personality section of Raven Branwen:

Raven is cynical, patronizing, selfish and stubborn. She believed her act of "kindness" of saving Yang's life from Neopolitan was sufficient despite having left Yang at a very young age and refused to protect her daughter when in need after that.

Raven is also very prideful and hypocritical, refusing to acknowledge her faults and always trying to justify her actions both to others and to herself, often putting the blame on others for them even if she feels real guilt about them.

It makes sense that for an antagonist, the primary faults and flaws of their personalities will come first, as to better represent them as the villains to clarify to the reader who they are and why they act as they do in their storylines. However, the fact that Robyn arguably has an even more caustic write-up then Raven, despite not being an antagonist, goes to show the lengths this writer has gone to present her in a significantly more negative light than she ever appears in the show.

If this doesn’t seem convincing, let’s look at a more direct comparison; what does the wiki say about Ironwood? He’s present in the same seasons, and has now become more of an antagonist in the latter episodes; is the wiki quite as blunt about his flaws?

Ironwood is courteous to his allies, as shown by his first onscreen interaction with Ozpin and Glynda Goodwitch. He is also far-thinking and tactical, wondering about the future, as seen when he speaks to Ozpin about Qrow Branwen's message. He also has a jovial, friendly, humorous and proud public persona, which he uses as a spokesman for the weapon manufacturers of Atlas.

However, as courteous Ironwood may appear, he can also be incredibly blunt, often preferring the direct approach. When he feels necessary, Ironwood is not afraid to bring the full might of his military command to bear, which sparked disagreements with both Glynda and Ozpin. Nevertheless, Ironwood is extremely loyal to his comrades, and however questionable his methods may be, he seems to have genuinely good intentions behind them.

Uh, no.

Instead, when his flaws are mentioned (for example, being blunt), it’s written in a significantly less... abrasive manner. It’s referred to as the direct approach, versus Robyn who is described as confrontational. Even then, his flaws are folded in to his (alleged) positive traits; he is not afraid, extremely loyal, and has genuinely good intentions, despite the fact that the show has now proven that Ironwood’s flaws greatly outweigh these. It reveals how thoroughly all of Robyn’s actions are presented as the work of an arrogant troublemaker, whilst Ironwood’s actions are presented as the efforts of a man working towards some greater good.

Also, I’ll add that in both examples, I used the first two paragraphs of their Personality sections. These are both the first two things you read about these characters, yet look at how differently they’re summarised.

What is interesting, however, is that despite this bias being extremely self-evident, the comments on her page generally chime agreement, referring to her as “overconfident, arrogant, impulsive and hotheaded to the point of being unlikable”, and claiming that she’s “literally the worse character in the show next to cinder, blake and yang”[1]. Someone mentions that Robyn has earned quite the hatedom... but why?

Broadly, my experiences of Robyn Hill’s writing in the fandom has been through a queer lens, and the vast majority of writers who’ve covered her and the Happy Huntresses have been women, or queer, or trans, or all the above... basically, the people who are usually responsible for a vast majority of fanfiction, let’s be real. These writers love Robyn, and have explored and extrapolated on her character to marvellous degree. Yet, at no singular point have any of these flaws ever been written quite as strongly as the wiki implies they are, nor have I seen much evidence of them myself in the show. For instance, let’s take one of the more serious points in her Personality section; she started a fight between herself, Clover Ebi, and Qrow Branwen [...] her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

When we watch this scene again, Robyn did initiate the fight... because she was rightfully aware that Clover would obey his orders, even if they were wrong. Despite everything that happened prior in the entirety of Volume 7, when given orders to bring Qrow in alongside RWBY, it was clear that Clover fully intended to follow it through, which Robyn knows from prior experience with the AceOps:

[image ID: two images of Clover, Robyn and Qrow in the dark-grey interior of the Manta ship. Robyn has her weapon aimed at Clover as he stands in front of Qrow. Clover is saying “Only Qrow is under arrest [...] please don’t make me arrest you too.”]

Her knowledge of the AceOps means that she reacted accordingly; trying to stop him from taking Qrow in and obeying Ironwood’s plan the only way she knows the AceOps respond to. Her reaction isn’t unwarranted. However, my point isn’t to argue that Robyn was right or wrong, but rather that regardless of who started the fight, the way the wiki explains this specific incident is that it’s solely Robyn’s fault that Tyrian escaped and crashed the Manta, but we know this isn’t the case. Robyn and Qrow both fought Clover, and it was Clover’s good luck (or Qrow’s bad luck, depending on how you view it) that allowed for Kingfisher to break Tyrian’s bonds. Her brashness is blamed for the outcome, but in reality, this outcome could have been avoided together if Clover had not chosen to follow his orders and bring in an innocent man. Also, she didn’t crash the Manta! That was all Tyrian! The intentional tying together of these two events as her fault, however, are a neat package of blame.

In these instances on the wiki, Robyn’s personality appears amplified, focusing specifically on her flaws and exaggerating them to the extremes that, as noted earlier, matches the language used to define the very villains of the series. Yet, the people who enjoy her and the Happy Huntresses often perceive those same flaws to a significantly lesser extent, or even see those flaws as actually being boons of her character; for instance, reading her alleged arrogance as passion. So, why such division?

Before, I mentioned her “negative” traits, and I put this into quote marks because traits don’t always align nicely into good and bad. All aspects of a person can vary on how positive they are based on context - even the show proves this, with protectiveness becoming paranoia (Ironwood) or loyalty becoming subservience (Winter). Even a character that is broadly composed of more unfavourable traits can have this contextual shift; Cinder’s stubbornness to her goals makes her a fast learner and a tenacious opponent.

Yet, why did the writer (or writers) choose to highlight almost every aspect of Robyn’s character as a bad thing? Why did they frame her decisions as such? I have a suspicion it’s to do with her character at large; she’s a bold socialist politician who believes in equality and fairness for all, who refuses to stand for incompetence and obedience towards evil causes. She’s outspoken in her views, and reacts strongly to those who threaten to overturn her work. Also, she’s a woman, in charge of a group of other women, at least one of whom is canonically trans. To those who agree with her in real life, Robyn appears as a great character! We admire her work ethic and we support her ends. To those who may not... well, it’s not hard to see how they might perceive her as more of a cocky, authority-defying upstart. Of course, the core text of RWBY doesn’t quite believe the latter; RWBY has always placed Robyn as the direct counter to authoritarianism, whether it be Jacques, Clover, or Ironwood, and even the article admits that she is a potent voice for the people of Mantle. Still, it’s clear that there’s plenty of people in a vocal minority who are deeply dissatisfied by Robyn, and aren’t afraid to make their stance on the matter exceedingly clear.

So, what does this all mean? Well, here’s what we can say for sure; Robyn’s article is, and has always been, stringently biased against her character, and often misconstrues her motives and decisions. This is maybe the more obvious part, but how should her article be worded to make this less so? Likely, I’d rephrase a lot of it to be less damaging to her character; she isn’t hostile, she holds people accountable. She isn’t quick to jump to conflict, she is familiar with how Atlas responds to anti-authority with violence. She isn’t arrogant, she believes in the power of the people as being the right thing to fight for. Even this makes it clearer that her character is about resisting the oppression inherent in Atlas, and is a much clearer outline of her personality as a whole. People may disagree with this phrasing and summary also, but given her character is based on Robin Hood, it’s also not far from the mark in terms of what she should represent.

TL;DR: Robyn’s wiki page is written with a deep bias against her character and what she represents, acts upon, and chooses to do in the show; I have no doubt that in canon, this sort of language would probably be used by Jacques himself as a smear campaign, haha. Whilst I can’t speak for the author and their motives, I have a distinct feeling that this article was written, or edited, by someone who is either:

not a fan of Robyn

not a fan of a new female character

not a fan of a new female character in a position of power

not a fan of a character with socialist/communist/antifa ideals

all of the above and then some???

Even though I’m not going to edit her wiki page (I’m very shy and I’ve never done it before), I think it’s worth analysing this if only as a reminder of the inherent biases of an author even when people are trying to present a character’s information impartially. This isn’t the first wiki I’ve seen misconstrue - or even make incorrect assumptions on - facts about a character, and it won’t be the last. In the meantime, though, I leave you with this fact:

Robyn Hill slaps huge nuts and I love her.

[1] I’m not naming the users who posted these things here, because it’s unnecessary. You can find them for yourself at the bottom of Robyn’s wiki, but there’s no need to respond; some people just don’t like Robyn, and that’s fine - I’m just explaining how bias leaks into wikis like water into a sponge. It happens!

#rwby #rwde #robyn hill #murphy's thoughts and vibes on this shit (again)#is this a new tag #i haven't really written this well and it was sort of off the cuff so sorry if there's mistake #*mistakes #LMAO #i just wanted to lay my Thoughts out #i swear if even one person msgs me like 'but robyn DOES suck' im banishing you to the Spray Cheese Hell Dimension #also im tagging as rwde but its not rwde against the show (FOR ONCE??) so

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barbecuebabybackribs · 4 years

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Sex With Rosalie Hale Would Include: (Male Reader)

(After my Jasper version of this someone requested Rosalie so here ya go! I hope yall enjoy- and feel free to request more of these :) men, women, vampire, shifter, I’m open to anything (: Also I’m sorry this isn’t my best work)

NSFW BELOW CUT!!

Human Mate:

Okay, It takes you awhile to actually have sex.

Partially because she is genuinely concerned for your safety

Although mainly because she’s got trauma she never truly worked through

Sure she killed those who harmed her, and thought she moved on for decades but when the situation does arise where you could be intimate- it triggers her.

She’s thrown right back into that trauma she had buried many years ago

You comforted her and suggested seeing a professional since there was only so much you could offer to her- she agreed to go to a support group.

With your comfort and support and through the support group she was able to actually tackle her demons.

Before the act you both set up boundaries, safe words, and assure each other if either of you get uncomfortable the other would not be upset if they had to stop.

Once those boundaries and safety guards are in place, that’s when the fun can start.

First time is pretty slow and vanilla

She’s laid flat on your bed, her hands caressing the sides of your face as you place gentle kisses on her neck, slowly undoing her blouse.

You trace your finger over he body, becoming aroused at the mere sight of her- she’s so captivatingly beautiful

She appreciates that your moving slowly but she’s been wanting you since the moment she saw you- so while your entranced in her beauty, she pulls you closer, her forceful hands exploring every part of you

You got the message and quickly started kissing down her body

When you finally reached the place she need you most her hands found there way into your fair- nails scraping lightly against your scalp

She wasn’t the screaming type, but she was the moaning type

Loud moans would leave her lips as you ate her out, soft tugs at your hair spurring you on

Her unnecessary breathing would quicken as you sent her over the edge, her hips bucking and grip tightening around you hair

You barely had time to wipe your mouth before she was on you again- now you were on your back.

“Rose!” You moaned out as she lightly grinded against you, pulling your face into a kiss

Lightly nips at your lips as she trails her hand down to your aching length

She relishes in the soft moans and groans that leave your lips, she wants to make that moment last forever- but she needed more of you

Leans closer to your ear and asks if you’re ready

When you say you are, she slowly lowers herself onto you

You both let out loud moans as she squeezes around you

You move your hand to her hips but before you can thrust into her, she rolls her hips into you, causing you to roll your head back and arch into her

She’d take over most of the control, holding your hips down as she rides you

You run your hands up and down her sides, caressing every part of her you can reach, moaning out small praises

When you both start to reach your highs she places her hands on both sides of your head, stealing a kiss from you, loving how you buck your hips into her

She breaks the kiss when you thrust into her particularly harshly, loud moans leaving her lips

You both create a balance of you and her moving, as you finally reach your highs you both become more erratic with your movements

After the first time you both open up to more then just the basics

Rosalie is very protective, so if a human or a vampire ever threatens you or tries to flirt with you- she’ll have you screaming her name

Rosalie is a primarily dominant switch

She does like to forfeit control a tad, she had to makes so many decisions in life and letting you make them occasionally- it’s like she can finally breath again

She doesn’t like being tied up, but she’s not one to shy away from tying you up

Tying you to the headboards, watching your muscles strain as you desperately try to touch her

Painfully slow pumps of her hand, tauntingly slow touches

She won’t lie she does like receiving oral more than giving, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy giving

She’ll go down on you while you tied up, or when she’s pinning you to the bed/ wall- your no match for her strength and she loves how you desperately try to take control of your pleasure

She’s got a voyeurism kink- meaning she likes to watch you masturbate

She could almost cum untouched by watching you

She loves how she can hear your heart beating faster at her watching you and the blush littering your face

Mutual Masturbation is also a kink of hers

She doesn’t like being in earshot of her family, she already has to deal with Alice, Edward, and Jasper being able to tell- the rest of the family and she’d probably go mad

It doesn’t mater where as long as they aren’t around- you’ve had sex in the forest, in closets, at your house, at her house when the others are away, in her car, in hotels- anywhere she can get her hands on you

She loves when you ear her out, practically worshiping her

She’ll also ride you face if your comfortable with it, gripping you hair and chanting you name

She likes when you catch he by surprise- especially if you make sure no ones around- girl goes from 0-100 real fast

You guys have two go to positions- Her on top of you or you pressing her against the wall, holding up one of her legs.

Your moans spur her on, she loves to hear you cry out for her- usually after she gives you multiple orgasms and your completely overstimulated- almost to the point of tears

She’s snuck up on you in the shower multiple time, one moment you’ll be washing shampoo out of your hair- the next moment you’ve got two cold arms wrapping around you pumping your length

She’ll push you against the shower wall, pressing her cold body up against your body- only leaving enough space for her hand pumping your length

You’ll place both your hands on her face, kissing her to distract her from the fact your moving to press her against the wall instead

You gently massage her breasts with one hand while the other leads further down, rubbing little circles around her clit- earning needy moans to fall from her mouth

After a few minutes of fore-play you can’t last any long, lifting her left leg up and wasting no more time you quickly set a steady pace- earning moans from the both of you

If she’s especially desperate for you she drags you into her car- driving just far enough to stay of the way of any on-lookers

You’ll immediately know what’s coming, especially when almost in the blink of an eye the car is park and Rosalie is on top of you

“Rose.” You’d moan when she finally quits her relentless attack on your mouth.

There would be no time wasted stripping all your clothes, you’d push up her shirt and pull down her jeans, She’d undo your belt and unbutton you jeans

When she needed you, she’d take you.

In the aspect of aftercare, she’s very giving.

She’ll always fight against you giving her aftercare- believing you need it more

But she does appreciate it when you clean her up, soothing her hair and telling her how much you love her.- she’ll also do the same for you, making sure you weren’t hurt and cleaning you up.

She loves nuzzling against your chest afterwards- being in your warm embrace is something she never thought she needed until she had it

She never feels more loved then in the moments after you have sex.

She likes hearing your heart beat slowly calm as you talk

She loves you, and she always make sure you know that- and on a few occasions she thanks you for not being like her past “lover”

(I- I really don’t like this but it’s the third time I wrote it so I really just need to post it- I might rewrite this in a few weeks so tell me if you’d want to be tagged)

#Rosalie Hale #rosalie cullen #Rosalie hale x male reader #Rosalie Hale x reader #Rosalie Hale imagine #Rosalie cullen x male reader #Rosalie cullen x reader #rosalie cullen imagine #Rosalie smut #Rosalie Hale smut #Rosalie cullen smut #twilight smut #male reader smut #twilight x male reader #twilight x reader

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shoyomeow · 3 years

Text

BLUE HOUR

route masterlist can be found here

In all honesty, there was absolutely no part of Tadashi Yamaguchi that could honestly say ‘Ah, I saw this coming.’

He skimmed over the contents of the letter again, a faint smell of vanilla wafting into his nose. He couldn't help but crack a smile at that because he was more than aware of your preference of using scented papers for important things instead of just ‘plain old boring papers’

There was a massive part of him that wondered if this was all a humongous joke or prank at his expense, after all old insecurities die hard.

As he mulled over his own plaguing thoughts, his gaze went back to the letter that he had found, the first ever confessional that was addressed to him.

“Oh hey there Yamaguchi ,

This seems so sudden and we barely know each other but, It seem it’s time for me to get this out.

I like you.

See? Sudden, I know. There’s so much to talk about so let me say, ever since you were able to answer that question that’s been trying to be answered by pretty much the entire class, I couldn't get you out of my mind. There were plenty of things I haven’t noticed about you just like how your eyes sparkle with your smile or that you crack your fingers when you’re nervous and after your hair became longer you started pulling it instead of cracking your fingers or the fact that you actually don’t like your freckles (how could you not? They are so fucking adorable)

We’ve exchanged plenty of sentences and it makes me happy. Thank you for that one time we cheated on the test together haha we were so chaotic. School seems so stressful but I felt okay once we started to talk each morning.

I felt like we’ve gone through so much. Highs and lows, just a big mess. You added a lot of spice to my life and I’m thankful for that. I know you may not like me back. I mean, you know me quite well and it’s your decision.

I’m not really the type to fall in love but it’s pretty much just you who I want. I’ll be finding more ways to talk to you, Yamagucci (hehe, see what I did there?)!

More than words,

Your seatmate, Y/n L/n”

You liked him.

Up until now he was pretty fucking convinced that the one you liked was his incredibly charming and handsome best friend. And while he knew you were not the type of person to do that, he was under the impression that the only reason you ever bothered to talk to him was because you wanted him to introduce you to Tsukishima.

You liked him, Tadashi Yamaguchi and, at this very moment, even as his back ached due to sitting on his desk for so long, he couldn’t help but let out an almost silent shriek of excitement.

The day he met you was painfully normal.

It was in his first year of high school when he was still struggling about the fact that he wasn’t as good as his other teammates and he was just so damn exhausted about being a burden.

Tsukishima had decided to head home slightly earlier, leaving Yamaguchi with his own plaguing insecurities as he walked home alone for the first time since elementary school and that was exactly when he saw you. Clad in simple khaki pants and a black hoodie, you were sitting on one of the swings in the park as you ate ice cream and belted out to whatever song it was that you were listening to through the thin wires of your earphones.

God you were such a horrible singer.

But seeing you not care about anyone else being there and singing (more like butchering) a song that he had never heard before, Tadashi couldn’t help but be completely and utterly enamored. Even as the ice cream dribbled down your hands prompting you to lick it off, with your hair in a mess and your posture hunched; you were possibly the most beautiful person he had come across in his life.

Finding out that you went to the same school came as him was a pleasant surprise.

You had been on his mind for almost a week before he noticed that you studied in his school. He saw you standing at the gates on the day practice ended early, maybe you were waiting for a family member to pick you up or maybe you were simply not looking forward to go home yet but you had stood at the entrance for around fifteen minutes and Yamaguchi had simply watched you from the bicycle stand, not having enough courage to actually pass you by.

When he thought about that day now, he couldn’t help but feel like he was some sort of a creep back then to have done that.

It became somewhat of a routine for him after that to intentionally pass by your class to catch a glimpse of you, seeing the pictures that you posted on social media (Tsukishima got irritated at him and used his phone to follow you. The relief he felt when he saw that you accepted his follow request is immeasurable) and simply fawning over you.

To this day he doesn’t know when his crush on you turned into something more.

A little more than like but less than love.

For the majority of his third year, after you became classmates, he had been under the impression that you liked his best friend.

Which was understandable considering how smart and handsome Kei Tsukishima was. That combined with the fact he had matured as a human being in the past two years (not much) made him the perfect person to fall in love with. Even though he knew that, the pain of losing someone who was never yours to begin with to your best friend led to a perpetual state of numbed heartbreak.

His finger hovered over the send button as he gave his text a onceover

“(your name), if it's not too much of a bother, may we meet? I would like to have a word with you regarding something that has recently come to my attention. If possible, can we meet in front of the university fountain in around ten minutes?

Warm regards,

Tadashi Yamaguchi.”

What in the ever loving fuck was wrong with him?

This message was way too formal to be considered a text to a classmate, let alone a response to a confession. He hurried to use the backspace button only to realise that he had already sent it.

And curse you for being on your phone so frequently because even before he could unsend it, you had already read it.

Embarrassment flooded him as he read his own text once again.

Tsukki would never let this go.

After ten minutes of mental prepping, tying and untying and then tying again of his long hair, Yamaguchi was finally ready (kind of) to confront and confess to the person he adored so much.

“Yamaguchi-kun,” you approached him with a bright smile on your face and god, seeing you just made him remember why he liked you so much in the first place. Much like the first time he had met you, you were clad in khaki pants (possibly the same ones you wore back then) and a hoodie. The only difference was that the hoodie had your university's logo etched into it and he liked you so much more than he had all those years ago, “Is everything okay? Your message was a bit concerning.”

The fact that you seemed to be genuinely worried for him just warmed him to the core and made a bright blush spread across his skin.

“(name)-san,” the green haired boy gulped as he felt the confidence he had built up fade away, “I got your letter.”

“My letter?” the look of sheer befuddlement on your face made him want to backtrack. Was he right? Was the letter not meant for him after all?

Your gaze landed on the familiar pastel purple envelope that you had so carefully decorated with a dried flower and unadulterated embarrassment flooded you, “Um, Yamaguchi-kun how exactly did you get that?”

“Uh, through my letterbox?” Yamaguchi shoved the envelope in his pocket before his hand went up to his own hair - a sign of nervousness, “I’m so sorry I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to get that. I’m sure you no longer feel the same about me and I was mistaken so I apologize for that, you might’ve accidentally written my name when you meant to write someone else’s .”

Your hand instinctively went to his own as you brought them down from his hair and effectively put a stop to his rambling, “It’s not like that.” It’s now or never bitch, you can do this shit, “The letter was meant for you, I just didn’t want you to find out like that.”

Your hand left his own as you straightened your back and did your best to look straight into his eyes, ignoring the way you could feel your cheeks heat up, “I like you Yamaguchi-kun.”

Some tiny sadistic part Yamaguchi wanted to spend more time relishing in the bright flush of your cheeks, and your own nervousness which was on par with his. But a much bigger part of him simply wanted to respond with his own confession and intertwine his hands with your own.

So, channeling all the confidence that he usually reserved for the volleyball court, Tadashi Yamaguchi tentatively took your hand in his, relishing in the way your breath hitched, “I like you too. And if it’s alright with you, I would very much like to date you.”

The fact that his voice shook as he spoke to you and the fact that he was blushing as much as you was comforting you as you smiled softly at him, “I would be more than alright with that Yamaguchi-kun.”

“If you’re comfortable with it, then can you please call me by my first name?”

The bright smile that bloomed on your face made his heart race in the best way possible, “Okay, Tadashi.”

#bbthots #yamaguchi fluff #yamaguchi x reader #hq yamaguchi #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

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wendimydarling · 4 years

Text

Revenge

Title: Revenge

Summary: Walter gets revenge on his wife.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x First Person Reader

Word Count: 1918

Warnings: Nuthin’ but floof here! Oh, and some female nudity.

A/N: This story was inspired by drunk Tumblr! and the conversation between me, @hell1129-blog, @yoursecretsmutblog, and @ly--canthrope in the comments of this post here. Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter closed the door to the apartment, kicking off his shoes and tugging his sweater over his head. The day had been long and arduous, as most of his days were. He was looking forward to spending the evening with his girl. Who seemingly is nowhere to be found, he thought as he glanced around.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” he heard her reply. It sounded like it came from the bedroom. Walter traipsed down the hall and was met with the most beautiful sight he’d ever witnessed.

There she was, his siren wife, lying naked on their bed, her body on display for him. Her soft curves never ceased to arouse him; her beauty stealing his breath away, the matted shine of her olive skin hypnotizing him. But it wasn’t just her alluring glow that made him tremble. It was the fact that she had cuffed herself to the headboard and she was grinning at him profusely, already rubbing her legs against each other in anticipation.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” she explained, biting her lip. “I hope you don’t mind.”

It was Walter’s turn to smile. How on earth had he gotten so lucky? He stripped off his remaining shirt and straddled his tiny wife.

~~~~~~~~

I’ve had such a bad day. I can’t wait to get home to you.

The text message had seared my heart. I swore to myself I’d make his day better somehow, so when I found his handcuffs while going through the laundry, an idea immediately came to mind. I hurried quickly through the chore and headed to the bedroom to get ready. Walter would be home soon.

Once I was satisfied with my hair and touched up my makeup, I made my way to the bed, hurriedly slipping out of my work clothes. I laid down and hooked one wrist with the cuffs, relishing the way the cold metal felt against my flushed skin. We’d used them before, and I would never tire of the solid, relaxing sensation that flooded my body the moment I was restrained. My lady bits were already dripping, and Walter wasn’t even home yet.

Or maybe he was. I heard his boots thud outside the front door so I hastily put my arms above my head and connected the other wrist in the cuffs, trapping myself. I didn’t have a key; the only way out now was Walter. I slunk down a little so that I was nice and stretched, feeling grounded and excited for what was in store.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” I called out to him, unable to keep myself from grinning as I pictured his reaction. I wasn’t disappointed; the look on his face as his jaw dropped three inches was worth everything. My pussy throbbed at how dark his eyes grew, and I pressed my legs together, fending her off.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” I teased, biting my lip as I watched my husband swallow thickly. ‘I hope you don’t mind.”

Walter smiled slowly and I shivered as he took off his shirt, allowing me to see every muscle in that thick chest of his as he came over to the bed and climbed on top of my small frame. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under my back before pressing his weight on my thighs and I was at once unable to move, my entire upper body deliciously arched and at his mercy.

He leaned onto his elbows, his face hovering over me as his fingers brushed over my breasts. I squirmed a little, the light touch tickling softly. His smirk had taken on an evil hue and I gulped, suddenly uncertain about my life choices this evening.

“Do you remember,” He started, tracing circles around my nipples, “The surprise party you threw me for my birthday?”

Oh shit.

I tugged on the handcuffs at once, but I couldn’t move an inch. I looked into my husband’s eyes, pleading with him.

“Walter no, no no no this is not what I had in mind, don’t do this!”

“Do you remember the slideshow?” he asked, his fingers traveling up to my armpits, hovering over the exposed skin.

“Walter pleeeease!”

“Do you remember how I said you’d pay for it?”

All I could do was whimper, squirming ineffectively underneath his large frame.

“Welcome to my revenge, Sweetheart… thank you so much for offering it to me.”

“No Walter--fuck!!!” I squealed as his fingers started to dance over my sensitive hollows. He knows that it’s my worst place and Detective Marshall is a methodical man; he took care to tickle every exposed nerve beneath my arms. I laughed loudly, my inability to protect myself only further heightening the sensation as he tortured me freely.

I watched him through my laughter; his face was covered in joy, and I realized he was truly enjoying this. Whatever bad things had happened today, my suffering was erasing them from his mind. I figured I could take being tickled for a while, if only to see that happiness never leave my husband.

Then again, maybe not. He switched from spidering to poking and I screamed, arching my back even further into the tickles. That seemed like the opposite of how I should have been responding, but my body was reacting of its own accord at this point.

“WALTER PLEASE!!! No mooohohore!!!”

He just shook his head, chuckling at my feeble attempt to beg.

“You really think, after you embarrassed me with all those childhood photos, that I’m going to let you go after only five minutes? No my love, get comfortable. I’m going to tickle you all night.”

“NOOOOOO!” I wailed, the fingers switching tactics again. This time he was digging, and I was barely able to catch a breath before another long batch of laughter ripped through me. Walter sat up, and I knew what was coming next. I squirmed helplessly as the rest of my naked torso was exposed to his nimble fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned futilely.

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” he quipped, running those stupidly talented fingers up and down my sides. I kicked my legs futilely, or at least I tried to. I was unable to protect a single inch of my sensitive skin as ticklish sensations swarmed my body. Walter was laughing with me, egged on by my cries for him to stop.

He finally settled on my ribs and my laughter hit a new peak as he began to vibrate his fingertips against each one. Digging in with fervor, my husband set out to discover every new place within my bones that would cause the loudest response.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second Walter paused, spreading his large hands across my entire abdomen. I gasped for air, staring at his stupid grin as I pleaded with him for mercy.

“No more Walter, please… I can’t take it, I’m gonna die!”

“It’s just a little tickling,” he chided, grazing his fingertips over my belly to keep me tense. “So long as I let you breathe you won’t die. You’ll just wish you had.”

“Walteeeeeheher…” My moan turned into a chuckle as his fingers started to pick up the pace, spidering softly all over the sensitive flesh of my torso. I clacked the cuffs hard against the headboard, the only movement I was capable of to express my frustration. Walter just laughed and attacked my sides once more, causing me to scream anew.

“Shhhh,” he warned me, “You’re going to make the neighbors think I’m murdering you.”

“YOU ARE!!!!” I shot back, twisting the little I could to evade his attack. I lost that battle in less than a second, and my screams grew louder as he dipped a finger into my belly button. He clapped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I saw an idea spring to life on his face as I laughed into his hand, and I watched in horror as he slowly lowered his head.

I tried to bite him, tried to shake him off, but nothing I did could stop his descent toward my torso. Walter’s lips hovered an inch from my navel and he looked up at me as I glared at him, those icy blue eyes boring wickedly into my soul as he dramatically took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the hell that was about to ensue.

Walter blew a raspberry straight into my core and suddenly the world ceased to exist. The only thing that existed was tickles. He blew raspberry after raspberry all over my sensitive belly, scrubbing his beard against my skin each time he took a breath. His hands returned to scrabbling rapidly over my armpits and I absolutely howled, tears rolling down my face as I could to do nothing but lay there and take it.

“I’M SORRY!!!! I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY!!!” I screamed, face flushed red and desperate. Walter stopped tickling again and returned to his position of lying on top of me, his fingertips walking slowly up and down my armpits. It kept me giggling, but it was bearable.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For embarrassing you at the pa-HAR-ty,” I exclaimed.

“Good. Now admit you like this.”

“What the fuck, no I don’t!”

Walter just smiled knowingly.

“I could smell it halfway through, love… you’re soaked. Admit it, you got turned on by a little tickling.”

I shook my head. He wasn’t wrong, but I’d be damned if I gave him an excuse to do this again. Walter sighed.

“Alright, well I guess I’ll just have to keep tickling until you see reason.”

He started wiggling his fingers again and I gave in at once.

“NO NO NO OKAY! I’ll admit it I--” I swallowed thickly, sighing in defeat. “--I liked being tickled.”

“Well if you like it, I guess that’s no reason for me to stop,” Walter mused, reinstating his assault under my arms. I squealed.

“Oh god, Walter PLEASE STOP!” I begged, my lungs burning with the effort to breathe. He ran his hands up my arms, squeezing them gently as he kissed me. I moaned into his mouth, all at once ravenous to be taken. His lips found their way to my neck and I gasped, desire searing its way into my loins. I pulled at the cuffs, wanting to touch my husband and frustrated beyond words that I couldn’t. It seemed so unfair, seeing as though his hands were roaming my body freely.

“Walter,” I groaned, writhing underneath his touch. “Please uncuff me.”

“No,” he mumbled against my collarbone, slipping his fingers into the slick between my legs.

“I intend to fuck you, just like this. And when I’m done,” Walter looked into my eyes with the most serious expression I’d ever seen, except for a tiny glint of humor in his eyes. The slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, one that made me shiver, and not in a good way. I knew that look. He leaned over and whispered in my ear the worst words I had ever heard in my life.

“When I’m done, I’m going to tickle you. All. Over. Again.”

I vowed then and there to hide any and all handcuffs that ever made their way into our apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fan Club: @littlefreya @sciapod @thiccgeralt @fucking-hell-cavill @brexrif @peakygroupie @viking-raider @constip8merm8 @daniig95 @elinalfrida @hell1129-blog @oddsnendsfanfics @agniavateira @dearlybelovedluke @sofiebstar @wanderinglunarnights @mary-ann84 @nuns-and-roses @luclittlepond @thekingstachemademedoit @iloveyouyen @lestersglitterglue @funnygirlthatgab @wondersofdreaming @yoursecretsmutblog @valkavill @kevia1000 @trippedmetaldetector @lifeofrileyp @captaingothgirl1996 @sasusakubae @princess-of-riviaa @vivodinson @paradisecitychild @stuckupstucky @speakerforthedead0-blog

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thechangeling · 4 years

Text

When no one's watching: A Kitty fanfic

Ok I wrote this all in one go at 4am so this might be terrible but oh well.

Set somewhere between TDA and TWP.

Ty couldn't breathe.

Well technically that wasn't true otherwise he would have passed out by now but he definitely wasn't getting much oxygen. He could hear the buzzing of the light fixtures overhead, drilling into his skull. His heartbeat was echoing in his ears, his fingers moving rapidly at his sides.

And Kit Herondale was lying on a cot in front of him, covered in bruises, his gear torn and bloody.

Kit.

Oh god Kit.

When Ty had gotten Tessa Gray's fire message, at first Ty hadn't known what to think. But deep down he knew that there could only be one reason she was contacting him, so he frantically ripped the letter open.

Tiberius,

Kit's been injured quite badly. I don't know what's going to happen. Caterina and I are doing everything I can but I know he would want you here.

Please come.

Tessa Gray.

Ty had never in his life been more grateful for the fact that he had Magnus Bane on speed dial.

When he finally arrived at the Carstairs household, it seemed that the worst of it was already over, but that didn't stop the paralyzing ice-cold feeling from creeping inside his veins.

And in those first few horrific moments when Kit wasn't breathing. Ty held his breath along with him.

If he doesn't breathe then I won't breathe.

If his heart doesn't beat then neither will mine.

And if he dies...

Distantly Ty could hear the voices of Caterina Loss and Tessa Gray as well as several others as they hurried around the room. They had almost completely healed Kit's injuries and his vitals were stable, but he still wouldn't wake up. He looked over at Jem, standing at Kit's bedside. He looked obviously heartbroken, but was still holding himself together surprisingly well given the circumstances.

Ty on the other hand.

Ty suddenly felt his stomach lerch as he fell forward, losing his balence. Tessa looked reluctant to leave Kit, but Caterina rushed over to him, muttering something under her breath.

Ty jumped to his feet before she could reach him. "Its fine" he managed shakely, his own voice sounded foreign to him. "I'm ok."

There was a moment of stillness where no one moved or spoke. Tessa was sitting on the foot of Kit's cot, tears running down her cheeks. Ty wondered offhand if he was supposed to be crying.

He looked around the room at the various expressions of anguish, fear, despair and heart break. Ty couldn't feel any of it. All he felt was numb.

Why couldn't he feel anything? This was Kit! Ty knew exactly how he felt about him even if he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, and still all he could do was stand and stare blankly ahead.

It was like some sort of switch had been turned off inside of him and Ty wanted to scream.

"Please" he whispered faintly under his breath, not exactly sure who he was taking to. Ty slowly walked towards Kit, taking in his ragged appearance. His gear was torn and his beautiful blond curls were matted with blood.

Ty once again found himself struggling to breathe. "Please" he whispered for the second time. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes, but Ty found he hardly noticed it.

Tessa's voice broke him out of his stupor.

"Would you like to be alone with him for a little bit Ty?" she asked kindly.

Ty rose his gaze from Kit. Everyone was staring at him expectantly. Perhaps under normal circumstances he would have lied, but these people had already seen him vulnerable. There was no point in putting on a facade.

Ty looked back at Kit's motionless form, forced himself to breathe, and then nodded.

Tessa, Jem and Caterina all exchanged looks, then slowly began to vacate the room. "I should check on Mina" Tessa mentioned offhandedly as she pulled herself up off the cot.

Ty forced himself not to think of Kit's little sister as he watched his slow breathing.

In and out. In and out.

It's going to be ok.

Ty waited until after everyone had left before carefully climbing onto the cot and seating himself beside Kit. Ty gently reached out and placed his hand above Kit's heart, feeling the soft but steady rhythm.

Only then did Ty finally let out a sob.

"Please Kit" he choaked out, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Please Kit. Come back to me. I need you" Ty pleaded, using his left hand to weave his fingers through Kit's hair.

With his right hand he traced back up from Kit's chest to his face, tracing the plains of his angelic face. Ty's breath was coming out in choaked sobs.

"I need you to wake up now Kit. I'm sorry I know it's hard but I need you to come back to us. To me." he pleaded. Ty had no idea if Kit could actually hear him but at this point he really didn't care.

Ty leaned forward touching his forehead to Kit's, relishing in the contact. He could finally feel what had been locked away before. It was all rushing in like floodgates were being opened inside of him.

Many conflicting emotions. Pain, fear, anger, sorrow. But ultimately and overwhelmingly, love.

Love.

Ty hesitated for only a moment before pressing his lips to Kit's forehead. He didnt feel right about kissing him on the lips while he was unable to give consent. He placed another kiss on Kit's cheek before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I need you to wake up so I can tell you how much I love you."

Kit remained unconcious as Ty suspected he would. Ty tried not to let himself become too overwhelmed. Kit would wake up eventually. Ty laid back onto the cot with a sigh, rearranging himself slightly so that he was resting his head against Kit's chest.

Ty blinked and let a fresh batch of tears fall from his eyes. Now that he was finally being honest with himself it felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Ty gently played with the fabric of Kit's shirt and smiled softly to himself.

"I want to tell you about how beautiful your eyes are" he mused. "And how I felt so safe and at peace the first time I stared into them. I love the sound of your laugh and the way you care so much about what I have to say." "I love how you came out of nowhere and no one saw you coming, or predicted how interesting you would turn out to be." Ty laughed through his tears.

"You are the greatest mystery I have ever had the pleasure of trying to solve." Ty was well aware of the fact that his voice was breaking. He was also well aware of the fact that he was technically conversing with an unconscious person and that was more or less a little unusual.

However, Ty was far past caring. "Kit you're my home" he whispered, nuzzling his face into Kit's neck. " And I just want you back" he finished, exhaustion seeping into his voice.

Ty was finally feeling the effects of intense emotional rollercoasters in the time span of a few hours. Plus he hadn't been sleeping very well lately which was something that Livvy had been nagging him about. Although thankfully she had the good sense to give Ty some space as soon as he got the fire message.

Ty quickly moved his head to rest on Kit's chest again to make sure he was still breathing. Satisfied, Ty finally let his eyes drift shut, fatigue seeping into every part of his being. Kit was going to be alright, he assured himself. He could let himself relax.

And with that thought, Ty allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of Kit's steady beating heart.

#the dark artifices #the wicked powers #kit x ty #kit herondale #tiberius blackthorn

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dark-wicked-marvel-fics · 4 years

Text

Pushing His Luck - Chapter Five

Bucky X Reader!

WARNINGS! Extreme Non-Con, Violence, Roofies, Kidnapping, Dark Bucky, Somnophilia. This is a really dark fic so please don’t read if that isn’t your kind of thing.

“You had no idea that Bucky Barnes wanted you, you had no idea about the thoughts he had about you, the dirty fantasies you starred in. But you were about to make them come true anyway.”

Final Chapter

You screamed yourself hoarse because it was the only thing you could do and Bucky found that he rather relished the sound as he pushed the head of his cock against your asshole. You were trying so hard to get away he almost admired it, or he would if it wasn’t so pathetic. He pushed past the tight ring and groaned out loud as the tightness enveloped him. Watching his cock disappear inside you ince by inch was the most satisfying he had ever seen and it was all the more sweeter by the fact that with every inch, you fought less. The fight went completely out of you as he bottomed out, his balls slapping against you.

“Fuck. You’re tight baby.” He praised as he pulled out to the tip slowly and eased back in.

He wanted to slam into you but that would literally tear your asshole up and while he’d found that he didn’t mind hurting you a little, he didn’t want to cause permanent damage. So he chivalrously held himself back and moved a slow pace, stretching you out gradually. You were limp underneath him and if it wasn’t for the whimpering and sobbing he’d assume you’d passed out. He slapped you ass cheek and you jerked at the sensation.

“If you ask me nicely I’ll rub your pussy, make this feel good for you.” He leaned forward to croon in your ear.

You turned your head away from him and he sighed and sat back up, thrusting in and out of you ass with vigour now that you were warmed up and undeserving of his kindness.

The faster pace offered him more pleasure as your tight little ass swallowed his cock and he grunted every time he moved inside you. He could barely believe how good it felt and how well your body was taking him, even unwilling. He reached under himself to massage his balls with one hand as he held you down and thrust into you.

“Last chance to be a good girl.” He warned and you resolutely ignored him.

“You stupid slut.” He growled and shoved his full length into you with a powerful thrust, relishing in your yelp of pain.

You bit down on the blanket as he used every ounce of his strength to slam into you, pulling out for a brief moment to appreciate how much he’d stretched your hole out.

He thrust back into you, enjoying the sensation but letting his hatred and anger drive his pace. He squeezed and tugged at his ballsack as they tightened and with one last thrust he pushed into you and released his load in you with a yell of pleasure. When he pulled out and saw his cum drip out of you his heart started beating erratically in his chest. He massaged your cheeks, pulling them apart so he could watch every drop slowly leave you. It was everything he had wanted since he’d first seen you, his mark on you, his claim. He could hear you gently crying in relief that it was over and shook his head in exasperation and stood up and left you there, face down with your abused ass in the air.

He took his time, cleaning himself off and rehydrating. He checked your phone to make sure you had no unanswered messages and grabbed a bite to eat. Twenty minutes later he came back, curios to see what pathetic attempts at escape you’d made but you hadn’t moved. He stopped at the door in surprise.

“You didn’t move.” He noted.

“I didn’t know if you were done.” You croaked and the sweet elation of victory rushed through him.

He’d broken your spirit.

“Oh sweetheart.” He whispered, yanking you down the bed and turning you over so he could look at you.

“That could have been good for you as well if you just stopped being so stubborn.”

You ignored him, defiantly looking away from him with a lifeless expression as tears trickled down your face. He wiped them away tenderly, kissing your cheeks.

“How about if I untie you? Will you behave for me?” He offered and you frowned before you closed your eyes and sighed, nodding.

He sat you up and peppered kisses along your shoulders as he untied your wrists and quickly grabbed them, rubbing them to get the circulation going properly again. Thankfully he was a master at tying knots and you wouldn’t be in too much pain or experience any numbness. You painfully rotated your shoulders and winced. Taking pity on you he rubbed them soothingly and you tensed.

“You said you’d be good, you don’t want to know what happens if you go back on your word…” He warned.

You trembled under his touch as you started crying again and he pulled you into his arms.

“Why are you still crying?” He asked.

You shook your head and refused to answer. He lost all semblance of patience with you and violently pushed you down on the bed.

“You want to act like an ungrateful slut, I’ll treat you like one.” He snarled.

“As opposed to how you’ve been raping me up until now?” You spat angrily.

Before he could ever think about it he slapped you across the face. You yelped as his palm made contact with your cheek and your head snapped to the side. It had been with his flesh hand thankfully and all things considered, it was a soft slap for anyone, let alone a super soldier. But he had still hit you.

“I HATE YOU!” You screamed at him, trying to sit up.

“Do you? I don’t think you do!” He snapped back and forced your legs apart, baring your swollen, drenched pussy.

“You want me. You want my cock in your pretty little pussy you liar.” He said evilly and you scratched and fought at him as he settled over you.

“NO!” You screamed as his hardness brushed against you.

“You’re going to take my cock and you’re going to fucking enjoy it.” He demanded of you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and angling your head so you were forced to watch as his thick, hard cock probed at your pussy.

“No!” You sobbed, thrashing wildly as he head pushed past your folds and dipped into your wet hole.

“See how easily your taking it.” He hissed.

You both watched, one in horror and one in vindication as with with one violent thrust he pushed himself inside you to the hilt, bottoming out as his tip brushed your cervix. The moan that escaped your throat was downright pornographic and your back arched off the bed.

“Tell me you hate me.” He taunted as soon as he could speak, holding himself still inside your soft, wet, tight cunt.

You were unable to form words and just whimpered and he chuckled in amusement and ground his hips into you. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he pulled out and snapped his hip forwards, starting straight away with a brutal pace and the obscene squelching from your wet pussy every time he did had your cheeks burning in embarrassment. He grabbed a hold of your hips to hold you steady and pistoned in and out of you.

Something inside of you snapped and you stopped fighting it, unable to deny the pleasure any longer.

“Bucky?” You keened loudly, desperately.

“Yes babygirl?”

“Touch my pussy please.” You whispered sweetly and he stuttered at the genuine request in your voice.

“Why?” He asked suspiciously.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze and he saw the shame and desperation.

“I want to cum. I want you to make me cum.” You admitted pleading with him.

It was what he’d been waiting for and god, it had been worth the wait. He’d hear those words in his head for the rest of his life, they were so fucking beautiful to him.

“You want me to rub your pretty pussy? Want me to make you cum all over my cock?” He asked and you bit your lip and nodded, shame all over your features.

“Then you’ve got to do exactly what I say, do you understand?” He said firmly.

“Yes.” You whispered.

He nuzzled his face next to yours and brushed his lips along your jaw.

“Kiss me. Kiss me the way that deep down you really want to.” He ordered and you hesitated for a moment.

You took a deep shuddering breath and sought his lips with your own, tentatively pecking him on the lips and he growled in disapproval. You whined and pushed your lips against his and nipped his bottom lip, kissing him with frenzied passion and wrapping your arms around his body.

“Fuck me hard Bucky.” You whimpered into his mouth, entwining his tongue with yours.

His hips obliged your request and he fucked you harder than he’d ever fucked anyone, setting a bruising pace as you screamed your pleasure into the kiss. He brushed his thumb across your clit and flicked it in time with his thrusts.

“Cum for me then.” He whispered and you sobbed gratefully as your body started to tremble.

Your name fell from his lips over and over again and with one final flick and thrust you came undone underneath him. He savoured every spasm of your cunt around his cock, every scratch of your nails along his back and every desperate cry of his name that tore from your lips before he shot waves of his own hot creamy cum into you and painted your walls with his semen. He collapsed on top of you, physically, emotionally and spiritually satisfied. When he lifted his head to look at you, you were in shock. Your body had taken over for a while and now your mind was catching up to the filthy deeds it had just allowed. He pushed his lips to yours one last time before you became disobedient again.

“I win.” He hissed cruelly at you, pulling his cock out and letting his cum and yours gush out of your body.

“Oh my god.” You whimpered as he got off the bed.

You whimpered and curled up on yourself as he towered over you.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, it’ll all be over for you soon.” He promised and grabbed a fistful of your hair dragging you to him.

You felt a pinch on the back of your neck and then he released you. He tossed a discarded syringe and needle on the bedside table next to him and you looked at it blankly.

“I’m going to forget.” You muttered.

“Yes you will, but I wont. I’ll never forget this.” He assured, kissing you gently on the forehead as your vision flickered.

“Go to sleep sweetheart. You’re so innocent and fuckable when you sleep.” Was the last thing you heard before darkness overtook you.

When you woke the next morning it was in your own bed with a pounding headache. That was the least of your worries though, it was the aching in your pussy and you ass that made you worry. According to a series of drunk texts you’d sent your friend, you’d gotten blackout drunk and hooked up with a stranger. You were deeply ashamed and got yourself to med bay to get swabbed just in case. The shame dissipated ever so slightly when your results all came back clean and even more when Bucky Barnes ran into you in the hallway and sweetly offered you his coffee.

It wasn’t the last time it happened. Apparently you just couldn’t handle your drink the way you used to. Over the next two years, you rakced up an embarrassing number of incidents. No matter what you did, how careful you were. Everytime, you dodged the STI bullet thankfully.

“No. I’m not drinking!” You insisted.

“It’s alright doll, I can’t get drunk. I’ll look after you.” Bucky said in your ear and you considered it for a moment before you accepted the shot glass from Sam, unaware of the mistake you’d just made.

Flickering lights passing over you and muffled voices woke you. You groggily blinked yourself awake, pulling your self into a sitting position. The sheets beneath you were soft and unfamiliar against your bare skin and that was your first red flag. You were completely naked and you winced as you tried to draw the sheets over your breasts and saw the dried cumstains splattered across your chest. Where the hell were you? A soft grunting sound made you look up and your breath caught in your chest.

On every wall around you there were images being projected, dozens of them. In every single one you were either bound in some way, bent over or spread open while Bucky Barnes fucked you in one of your holes or… you were sleeping unawares while he touched you. You gazed in awestruck horror at the visual evidence of the assaults.

“Please don’t.”

“Bucky no!”

“Stop!”

“Get off of me!”

“Please please don’t.”

You voice calling out in different ways, begging for mercy or worse, just screaming.

“Welcome back sweetheart.” Bucky’s voice, his real voice and not a recording said and he stepped out of the shadows.

The projected images flickered eerily across his skin as he passed through the projector light towards you.

“What… what’s happening?” You whimpered, watching the wall in horror as you saw Bucky shove his cock down your throat and choke you with it.

You didn’t remember that, you didn’t remember any of these horrible things.

“The blackouts… it was you.” You whispered.

“It was me.” He confirmed, reaching out to stroke your hair and you scrambled away from him.

“There’s no point in struggling, it’s never worked out well for you in the past.” He chuckled, motioning to the moving pictures, the only proof of your many forgotten encounters.

Bile rose in your throat and tears burned in your eyes as the full force of the awful situation hit you like a sledgehammer. Bucky had been routinely raping you and making you forget about it. And it was about to happen again.

“No… Nooo!” You whimpered and he threw back his head and laughed at you.

“It always starts with a no.” He taunted and the images began to change.

“Buckyyy, oh Bucky.”

“Fuck me Bucky.”

“Please fuck me.”

“Let me cum.”

“I’m going to cum!”

“YES! YES! YES!”

“Oh God, BUCKY!”

“In the end, you always give in.” Bucky told you, leaning over to yank the flimsy sheet away from your body.

The images flickered out, one by one until there was a singular piece of footage playing. In it, you lay happily in his arms, willingly kissing him like he was the love of your life.

“So sweetheart… let’s begin.”

Authors note. - Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it x

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etherealhood · 5 years

Text

Permanent Chase - Part Two

author: @etherealhood

word count: 5,660

warnings: fluff, angst

a/n: hello everyone! thank you so much for the feedback on the first part of permanent chase! i’m so excited for this series and i’m so happy to share it with you! if you’d like to be added to the taglist or talk about the series, just send me a message! enjoy xo!

pairing: calum hood x oc

“You found him, didn’t you?”

Malia looked at the picture and nodded as Rebekah handed it back over to her. Malia ran her fingers over the face of her husband, smiling at the intimate moment they were sharing. Unfortunately, it was one of the last times they saw each other, but still any moment she shared with Calum was something she held so deeply and fondly in her heart.

There was a small silence sitting over them. Rebekah had known Malia her whole life. She grew up admiring her, learning how to be as graceful and as perfect as she found Malia to be. After all the time she’d spent knowing her and being as close as family, she could see the wheels of thought turning in her head, see the memories practically playing inside her brain.

Malia suddenly spoke softly. “Picture’s old and wearing out, but it’s the most recent one I have of him. I don’t have any pictures of him before New York in the ‘20’s.”

Rebekah watched as tears of both happiness and heartache formed in her best friend’s eyes. She knew how long she waited for Calum to pop back up in her life over the centuries. She knew how agonizing it was for Malia to go those first 230 years without him. She knew how much it hurt her everytime he died. She knew just how much Malia loved every version of Calum she’d met.

“How did you and Calum meet?” Rebekah asked, opening up Malia’s closed left fist to look at the scar that ran diagonally across her palm.

Malia chuckled as she looked back up at the dark-haired woman. “I told you this story when you were little.” She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in a tease.

Rebekah shrugged, smiling at Malia as she waited for her to tell the story she’d already heard countless times. She would be the first to admit that she loved the story of Calum and Malia’s meeting. It was a true, fairy-tale love story that she’d always enjoyed hearing. “That was almost 30 years ago. Tell me again how you met him.”

May 1507

There were various fruits on the cutting board, waiting to be chopped up and put in a bowl for the luncheon that would take place that very afternoon. As Malia chopped them up and put them in their designated bowls, she couldn’t help but think of how wonderful it would be to have such access to the delicious treats. As an orphan who held the title of a simple servant, she’d never have access to such food unlike the family she worked for.

One of the most prestigious families in Florence was the Bianchi family. They came from a long line of merchants and bankers that held a powerful title in the flourishing city that seemed to be in a rebirthing period. Malia had only been working in the home for a few months, but she’d known of the family her whole life. Honestly, how could you not hear of the family who practically owned the city of Florence?

As she made her careful and perfect cuts, the knife made a soft thud against the wooden board. She worked in many places in the home of her employers, but she was in the kitchen more often than she wasn’t because she worked fast and efficiently. Within minutes, she’d chopped all the fruits and laid them on the platters, setting them up just as the woman of the house had requested. Her hands were sticky and wet from the juices of the fruits as she grabbed the chopping board and brought it to the basin of water meant for cleaning the kitchen equipment.

Malia was rinsing off the board when someone started talking behind her. “Father really went all out for the lunch today, yes?” The deep, raspy voice asked. She turned around, startled from the sudden intruder in the kitchen. Her green eyes landed on a familiar, dark and curly haired man. His dark eyes were focused on the array of fruits that had been prepared, his fingers grabbing something that had piqued his interest before he shoved it into his mouth and relished in the sweet flavors it had to offer.

It would’ve been a lie to say that Malia wasn’t frustrated at the man’s overconfident and uncaring demeanor. It bothered her that he was so carelessly picking from the tray, especially when he would suffer no consequences if it didn’t please the people she worked for. “My Lord! You shouldn’t be here.” She said nervously, drying her hand on the apron that was wrapped around her waist.

His slender fingers kept picking at the fruits as he chewed the food in his mouth. Finally, he looked from the food to the young woman who worked for his family. Her soft lips were pursed and her eyebrows furrowed in a frown. Her hair that resembled soft waves was pulled back into a low ponytail that fell to the curve of her back. Her green eyes had a fury in them that he’d never seen before, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the orange flakes in them. As she looked at him, he could tell that his presence wasn’t exactly welcomed, but all the more reason to stick around, right?

“Please, call me Calum.” He smiled softly and pulled out a stool that was tucked under the counter where she’d been chopping just moments ago. He grabbed another piece of fruit and chomped it down, still watching her.

“I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to use your first name, My Lord.” She politely declined him with a shake of the head and grabbed the knife from the counter, taking it to the basin to clean off.

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t know my name.” Malia said, knowing that wasn’t really why she wouldn’t give it to him.

He was silent for a moment as she focused on rinsing off the remnants of fruit that was left on the sharp blade. “Well, if you give me your name then you can use mine.” His voice asked from behind her.

She turned her head to gaze at him, while still cleaning the kitchen utensil. Just as she went to respond, she felt the blade slice through her flesh. She snapped her head back to the task that was quite literally at hand and saw the crimson liquid begin seeping out of the long cut in her left palm. A wince of pain left her as she dropped the knife in the water.

Calum perked up at the sound of distress she made and saw the blood trailing down her hand. He hurried over to her, grabbing a clean cloth off the table. He approached her and carefully took her hand in his, looking down into her soft and watery green eyes carefully as a silent request to help her flickered through his eyes. Malia gave him a nod, a look of pain on her face as she rolled her lips into her mouth to keep from letting out a cry as he looked away from her and gently pressed the cloth against her palm.

He noticed her tense up as he pressed the white fabric to her cut, the red pooling in her palm transferring to the rag. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, the genuinity of the concern in his voice surprising her momentarily. He scooped some water from the bucket next to the basin and poured it over her hand, another stifled cry sounding from behind her closed lips.

Malia watched his face intently, not sure why he was taking such care of someone he didn’t know, not knowing how he even knew to tend to such a cut. The young man took care of the injury in her hand until the blood stopped flowing and he grabbed another clean cloth that was folded on the counter and ripped it in half, wrapping it around her injury and tying it off. He looked at his handy work and nodded in approval, his eyes going back up to meet hers.

“Malia.” She whispered, to which he remained staring at her. “My name. It’s Malia.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, her own doing the same. He nodded as he rubbed his fingers over her fingertips. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Malia.”

“Yours as well… Calum.” She mumbled, testing the waters with the use of his first name rather than the title of his she was supposed to use when speaking to him. The grin that grew across his face let her know that he appreciated the use of his given name. She gestured to the wrapped cut in her palm. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Giving assistance to such a beauty is never an inconvenience.” He told her, watching the blush that heated up her cheeks as she smiled at the compliment. Something in the air around them shifted, almost as if it something beautiful was going to take place between them, as if something magical was starting in that small kitchen.

Malia pulls her hand from Rebekah, her fingertips grazing the scar on her left palm from the day she met Calum. “Even after 512 years, it never fully healed.” She thought of the life they built together in Florence, thinking of everything they planned for the legacy he’d surely leave behind. Unfortunately, they never got to grow old together and see their plans come to life. Clearing her throat and shaking her head slightly, she looks back up at the raven-haired friend of hers. “I met him last night at Ben’s bar.”

“What was he like?” Rebekah asked, watching Malia grab the cup that had been placed on the table in front of her in the midst of her reminiscing. She sipped the tea and let the herbal refreshment soothe any anxieties she might’ve had.

“The same. Same bright smile. Same full-body laugh. Same dorky sense of humor.” Malia smiled. In every lifetime they lived, he was the same. He was always his happy and wonderful self. Nothing about who he truly he was, about his golden heart ever changed. It made her happy that she at least got to fall in love with the same person every time.

Rebekah watched as Malia tapped at her porcelain tea cup, the centuries-old woman seemingly deep in thought about the previous night’s activities. She’d known Malia her whole life and could see that something was troubling her, that something wasn’t right. “But?”

“But he also seemed different.” Malia frowned and looked in Rebekah’s light brown eyes. “As long as I’ve known him, I’ve always been able to tell when something was off, when something had been hurting him. And last night, he was different.”

The night before, she noticed the dark circles and bags under his eyes, the yawns he kept suppressing. She noticed that the light and radiant energy of his she’d always adored wasn’t as vibrant as it had been in all the other lives they lived in with one another. He wasn’t as happy as he used to be. “He’s been hurting. Been having a hard time lately.”

“What’s that look on your face? You look nervous.”

Malia swallowed thickly, bringing her hands to her lap to pick at the manicure she’d gotten a week ago. “Back in Italy, there were some people that he’d been really close with. We haven’t seen them since then, but last night, I saw one of them. He seemed to recognize me.”

“What does that mean for you?” Rebekah was incredibly confused, but so was Malia.

“I have no idea.”

From behind the brown front door, Malia could hear paws pattering against the hardwood flooring in her home. Smiling to herself, she pushed the key into the lock and turned it to the right, hearing the lock click open. She turned the doorknob and entered her home, the white Australian Shepherd she adopted when moving to Los Angeles eight months ago greeting her when she walked in.

She switched on the lights before she bent down while still in the doorway to get to his height and started scratching underneath his chin, the spot she knew he loved. His tongue was sticking out of his mouth as he huffed excitedly. The fur around his eyes mixed with light browns and soft blacks, complementing the icy blue pools of his eyes. When she brought him home, she fell in love with his eyes, but after having him around for a while, she grew fond of his sweet personality.

“Hey, Atlas! Did you miss me?” She asked, her voice high-pitched as she spoke to the animal. Standing back to her full height, she toed off her shoes, throwing her keys into the bowl on the entry table. She took off her purse and hung it on the rack, her coat following soon after. As she walked down the hallway to the kitchen, she passed the living room and the dining room, Atlas following close behind her.

She entered the kitchen and flipped on the light switch, looking at the time. It was eight, meaning that Atlas was probably getting hungry. He walked over to the food bowl in the mudroom that was connected to the kitchen through a doorway, and started tapping at it, the plastic bowl clinking against the wooden floors. She followed him and scooped him some food from the plastic container and placed it in his bowl. “There ya go, my love.” She said, rubbing his ears.

Walking back into the kitchen, she grabbed the white tea kettle she’d on the stove burner and brought it to the sink, filling it up with water before setting it back on the gas stove. She switched on the knob and turned to grab a tea cup from the cupboard to the right of the stove. There was a jar of tea leaves on the right counter that was connected to the stove and she began scooping those into the tea cup.

Soon after, the tea kettle was whistling. Malia took the kettle off the stove and poured the hot water into her cup. She watched Atlas come trotting back into the kitchen, licking his lips. “Seguire.” She instructed, the dog obeying and following her down the hall to the office.

She entered, flicking the lamp on before she walked over to the bookshelf to the right of the door. She held the tea cup in one hand as she used the other to skim her fingers over the spines of the journals that were organized by year. She found the year 1511 and pulled that particular binding of pages out. The journal was in decent condition for its age, but even still, pages were fraying and the leather that bound the pages together was worn out.

Malia walked out of the office, Atlas still on her trail, sniffing the floor. She led him to the living room and plopped on the couch, letting her body take up the entirety of its length, her dog circling a couple times before finding satisfaction and laying on the floor, his head on his paws. Before she opened the journal, she sipped her cooling tea and started flipping through the pages until she found the date she was looking for.

November 11, 1511

“Please, don’t be angry with me.” Calum pouted, holding Malia’s hips, kissing the back of her neck as she looked out the window at the moon that hung brightly in the sky. “This is a business matter.”

It was approaching the eleven o’clock hour and while Malia was preparing to go to sleep, Calum was preparing to leave to attend to a business matter. There was a small family of bankers who were stirring trouble for Calum’s business and starting to be a real pain. He arranged a civil meeting at the church where they could come to a compromise for the better interest of Florence, and that was where he was supposed to be in ten minutes.

“I know, but I don’t want to be alone tonight.” She mumbled, leaning against his body. Her head resting on his shoulder. She turned her head to look at him, her hand coming up to cup his strong jaw.

Calum shook his head and offered her a small smile. “You won’t be alone, darling. You’ve got our little one to keep you company.” He whispered to her, his hand moving from her hip to her stomach, his hand rubbing over the slight curve of her stomach.

He watched her eyes widen in surprise. “How do you know about that?” She asked breathlessly, turning around to face him. “I only learned of it a few days ago.”

“Well, when you’ve laid with a woman in her bed, you learn her cycle and notice the changes in her body. Your cycle is two months late and you’ve never been late.” He explained, his hand holding her cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. His eyes drifted to her chest, the chill from the night air coming from the open window causing her nipples to harden underneath her nightgown. He smirked as his finger thumbed over her nipple. “Your breasts. They’ve gotten larger.”

Malia let out a breath of relief. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.” Her gaze dropped to the floor in shame.

Calum chuckled and shook his head, his fingers lifting her chin. “Why are you apologizing? My love, this is all we’ve ever wanted!” He cheered, his hands gripped her hips once again as he lifted her into the air and spun her around, her hands on his broad shoulders. The action caused her to let out a squeal of laughter. “I’ve never been so happy.”

“What about when I said ‘yes’ to marriage?” She smirked teasingly.

After they’d met that day in the kitchen, Calum began making frequent trips to visit Malia while she worked and he often sent for her when he wanted to see her. The two connected in a way that neither of them had connected with another person before. Something between them just felt like it was meant to be.

At first, it was just a simple first-love, but soon after that it developed into something more. After rolling together in the sheets in the late nights, they’d start making plans of forever. He’d hold her close and tell her anything and everything. She’d told him of the life she lived without a family as a child and the hopes she had for adventures and an epic love. Calum was quick to tell her that he wanted to be her epic love.

They knew that their love would be frowned upon by his family and the people of the city. How could someone of Calum’s economic status love someone of Malia’s? When it was just them, it didn’t matter who they were or where they came from. All that mattered was the intense love and burning passion they shared for each other.

Calum waited until the estate would come into his hands before he asked Malia to marry him because he knew that if he didn’t, his parents wouldn’t approve of the marriage and would arrange one for him. So, a week before his debut, he took her to the river and asked her to marry him, to which she said yes. That night, they went to the church and married in secret. When Calum’s debual came around, everyone was beyond surprised for the kitchen worker to be by his side with the title of his wife.

That was three years ago. Ever since, Calum and Malia shared a marriage full of companionship and passion. The plans they made together when lying in the sheets were starting to look like a reality. And as Calum learned of her pregnancy, he knew that they were going to get the happily ever after he wanted for them.

“Well, now I’ve felt that same happiness two times.” He said, making her giggle. Her laughter and her stunning smile made his heart swell with fondness. He dipped his down to place his lips against hers, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the taste of her nightly tea on her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and pressing her small body to his. His hands smoothed down to the back of her thighs and he lifted her up, her legs circling around his waist before he carried her over to their bed.

He laid her down in the bed, his body bent over hers on the mattress. He held himself up over her on his hands, his lips trailing down from her lips, over her chin, down the column of her throat and the valley of her breasts to her clothed stomach. His hands rubbed at her waist as he stared up at her, her green eyes watching him. “I love you.” He whispered against her belly, where he knew the product of their love was growing inside of her. His sparkling eyes look back up to her beautiful green ones. “I love you.”

“We love you, too.” She said back to him, her voice just as soft as his was. “Please don’t go, Calum. Stay with us.”

“I really want to. But this meeting isn’t just for business, it’s for Florence. It’s for our family, darling.” Calum told her. She nodded in understanding, the disappointment still showing on her face. “Just give me an hour, I’ll be back in one hour and then I’ll never leave you again.”

She smiled in agreement and he stood, pulling her hands to sit her up. “Don’t be late.”

“I’d never.” He pressed a few sweet pecks to her lips and let go of her hands, he grabbed his coat and walked to the door, Malia in tow behind him. “Make sure you two get some rest. Don’t stay up for me.” His hand cupped her stomach.

“We will.” She put her hand over his and laced her fingers with his. “I love you, Calum… so much.”

“I love you, Lia. You are absolutely everything to me.”

As the time passed, Malia laid in bed, her right hand resting over the slight bump of her stomach as she looked at the door. She knew that as long as Calum was gone, she wouldn’t sleep. The absence of his warm body made it impossible to even find some comfort in the large bed they shared.

With a tired sigh, she pushed herself up and threw her legs over the side of the bed, started pacing the room. The breeze from the night air flowed into the room, ruffling the silky fabric of her night gown. She rested her hand over her stomach, feeling the slight curve of her growing stomach.

She smiled softly, thinking of how overjoyed Calum was when he admitted that he knew. The grin that overtook his stubbled face was one she’d never seen on him before. Until an hour ago, she absolutely sure that she’d seen every face Calum could wear, but that heart-stopping, fondness he looked at her with was one she’d never seen before.

She’d never seen him so happy before. She’d never been so happy before.

A glowing light in Malia’s peripheral vision caught her attention, looking from her small hands, she gazed out the window. When she saw the bright, orange glow of fire, she tilted her head in confusion and walked closer to the window to get a better look. She pinpointed the spot of where the fire was and gasped, a hand going over her hand as her eyes looked with tears and her heart started pounding in fear.

It was the church.

The church Calum was supposed to have his meeting at.

Malia rushed to the thick wooden door and pulled it open, running down the stairs of the large house she lived in. The night servants were still cleaning up, giving the lady of the house odd stares as she ran past them not at all wearing something a modest lady would wear in front of her workers.

She ran outside to the horse stables that was on the property, a servant calling after her. “My Lady, what is the matter? Wait, My Lady!” Malia ignored the shouts for her to come back and entered the stables, recognizing one of her husband’s closest friends. He looked at her in confusion, his blue eyes widened.

“My Lady, what are you doing here?” He asked, meeting her halfway. Her hands gripped his forearms, her breathing shallow as she tried to explain. “It’s alright, it’s alright, take deep breaths.” Luke instructed, watching her close her eyes as she slowed down before inhaling and exhaling deeply.

“C-Calum. The church, it’s-it’s on fire, Luke.” She stuttered out, her voice shaky as she looked up at the tall man before her. “I've got to get the church. I have to make sure he’s alright.” She pulled from his grip and walked to the white horse that she rode frequently. She hoisted herself up and gripped the reins, rubbing the horse’s neck to comfort it from the sudden intrusion.

Luke stood still, in shock or in terror, she wasn’t sure but she had a feeling it was because of both. She paid him no mind as she held the reins and pulled them, the horse walking past him. As soon as she was out of the stables, she pushed her heel into the horse’s side, causing it to run off the property. She heard galloping behind her and she figured it was Luke, but she couldn’t find it in herself to look back, not when her husband might be in danger.

The rest of her ride was quite literally a blur. As she drew closer, the heat of the flames burned and nipped at her skin. Her lungs were starting to ache from the smoke swirling in the air. The horse wouldn’t go any further so she slowed to a stop and hopped off the animal, walking towards the burning building, her feet bare.

Once the heat of the flames became too intense, her vision cleared and she saw that the church was in shambles, the glow of the fire destroying everything it touched. The huge cloud of smoke grew bigger as the entire structure of the church began crumbling, the heavy bricks and rocks within the building shaking the ground beneath Malia’s feet and causing even more of the church to collapse.

As she watched everything fall apart, she felt the tears she’d been holding back pouring down her face. “No!” She screamed, knowing that it meant the end for whoever was still inside the church. The church that she was married in.

A pair of arms wrapped around her as she went to run towards the burning building, holding her back from putting herself in danger. “My Lady, you can’t!” A familiar voice said in her ear. It was Ashton. She watched the church and cried, fighting against his strong hold on her small body.

“Calum’s in there, let me go! Let me go!” She sobbed, her cries shaky as she reached out towards where her husband was. He held her tighter and that was all it took for her knees to give out and collapse in his arms just as she watched the church fall to the ground. Her eyes closed and her throat burned painfully at the lump that had formed.

Her body fell to the ground, Ashton going down with her. “No, no, no!” Malia yelled at the crackling flames and into the night. She cried and cried, her eyes swollen and puffy as the crippling realization hit her harder than she fell for her husband.

“He’s gone, he’s gone!” She mumbled, her voice hoarse and raspy. Another sob racked through her body, shaking her to the core. Shaking her heart until is broke. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she wrapped an arm around her stomach, feeling as if she was gonna be sick. She hunched over and let every horrid emotion she’d hoped she would never have to feel consume her entirely.

“We’ve to go, My Lady. It’s too dangerous.” Ashton said to her, the wavering strength in his voice evident, his arms wrapping underneath the bend of her knee and around her back. He carried her to his own horse, instructing a shocked Luke to take Malia’s horse back to the Bianchi property. He nodded and swallowed thickly, taking another sad look towards the flames and smoke in front of him before grabbing the reins of both his and Malia’s horse, walking them where he came from. There’s no way he could ride in his state of mind.

Ashton got on the horse with Malia, her arms wrapping around his torso, her cheek pressed to his shoulder blade. He pressed his heel into the horse’s side and they were off. She continued crying, small whimpers escaping her pillowy lips.

How was she supposed to breathe without Calum there to remind her how important it was that she take a deep breath? How was she supposed to go back to their bedroom and sleep in the bed they shared, knowing he would never come back and chase away the nightmares? How was she supposed to look at herself in the mirror and see her growing body, knowing her child would never know their father?

How was she supposed to go on without the love of her life?

“Don’t take me back.” She muttered tearfully as Ashton rode through the town of Florence. He turned his head, looking at her momentarily. “Please, I can’t go back.”

“Where do you want me to take you?”

“The river, where Calum used to take me.” She watched Ashton nod. He sighed sadly, changing his course of travel. He turned and ventured off into the outskirts of the city, near the Arno river.

Once they arrived, Ashton got off the horse and gripped Malia’s hips, pulling her off. She thanked him and stumbled past him, falling back to the ground. She looked at the river, remembering the times her and her husband spent splashing around in the water. She pulled her knees to her chest and started sobbing into her knees, wishing that she could feel Calum’s strong arms holding her, wishing she could hear his voice whispering in her ear that he would be okay, that everything was fine.

Ashton sat next to her and let her cry it out, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could say to repair her broken heart. On the inside, he was breaking all the same. Just an hour ago, he and Calum were riding to the church, his best mate telling him that his wife was with child. He was over the moon about her pregnancy. He was so happy for his friend’s growing family.

“I’m not staying in Florence.” Malia rasped out from next to him. “I can’t stay, not without him.”

“Michael, Luke, and I will help you leave. We’ll come with you if necessary.” Ashton told her, his green eyes watching as she looked back at him. He made a promise to Calum a long time ago that if anything happened to him, he would take care of Malia.

“You don’t need to come.” She shook her head and wiped her tears from her cheeks. “I’ve taken care of myself the last 22 years, I can do it for the rest of my life. I can do it for both of us.” She held her stomach, hoping that she at least wouldn’t lose her child.

“I’ll be off to make arrangements for your departure. Just stay here, My Lady.”

He stood up and went to walk back to the horse, but Malia grabbed his hand, stopping him. “Thank you, Ashton.” She nodded, telling him to accept her gratitude. Telling him that she appreciated everything he was doing by helping her leave. He returned her nod and let her hand slip from his as he mounted the horse and was off again.

Malia watched him ride away, becoming nothing but a shadow in the night. Now that she was alone, she remembered why she was leaving her home and it pushed the tears out of her eyes again. Her body shook as she sobbed violently, wanting the pain she felt wrapping around her heart like thorn-covered vines of the rose bushes to stop piercing her heart. She wanted to feel like she could breathe, like she wasn’t drowning.

Her heart was in a million pieces.

Looking up at the sky, she saw all the stars surrounding the moon. She watched as a shooting star flew across the dark sky and into the heavens. With a shaky exhale of breath, she closed her eyes and let a single tear flow over her cheek. “Bring him back. Please, bring him back to me.” She cried to the stars.

And that single star that flew across the night, that was really just a burning rock moving quickly through the atmosphere of the earth, waiting to be wished on was what prompted the permanent chase she would endure for the next 508 years.

As Malia’s eyes skimmed over the last words of her journal entry from the eleventh of November in 1511, she felt that familiar tear drop off the curve of her chin. She sniffled, not realizing that recounting the story had brought her to tears. Closing the journal, she set it on the coffee table and sighed shakily.

She couldn’t go through that again. Calum had to remember who she was, who he was. He had to fall in love with her again. It could be the last chance she got.

let’s talk about permanent chase!

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banditthewriter · 5 years

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Best You Ever Had - Billy Russo - 7

Part seven! Inspired by an anonymous request: Hi could you write a billy smut based on the song “or nah” by ty dolls sign remix? It’s hella dirty, especially The Weeknd’s part

WARNING: SMUT!

WARNING: Mentions of cheating. Feel free to shoot me a message or ask off anon if you have questions or concerns! (But keep in mind guys. Have I ever steered you wrong?)

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists! Enjoy!

*****

Kissing Billy had always been a thrill for you. He was good at it and he liked making you feel good. Every kiss, even the quick ones, had made your heart speed up. And it’d been a year since you’d last kissed him.

His mouth was moving over yours easily, his hands tugging on your hips to bring you closer. You were contemplating how to get you both naked without detaching from him when he finally pushed you back with a gentle hand to your chest.

“Wait a minute,” he said even as his eyes went to your mouth once more.

“Seriously? You want to talk right now?”

You tried to push forward but the resistance made you stop. You wouldn’t push, not for this. Not when you still weren’t sure you should be there.

“I don’t know if you didn’t get what you wanted from Camden, but this isn’t how I want this to go,” he said as he dropped his hand to his side.

Now you weren’t touching at all. You were about to turn around to leave because obviously this had been a mistake, but you thought about those words again. You felt your eyebrows furrow as you looked up at him.

“Wait, what do you mean I didn’t get what I wanted from Ethan?”

In all the time you’d known Billy Russo, you’d never seen him look sheepish, but right then? He looked like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I was doing a check with the crew, making sure everything was good before I turned in. Camden’s detail told me that he had a female companion for the night. And uh,” he looked away for a moment before he continued, “Gil told me you’d left your room earlier.”

He’d told you that Gil wouldn’t tell him when you left. But right then, you didn’t care.

Billy didn’t want to do this with you because he thought you’d been with Ethan just now. You took a step forward which drew his eyes to you.

“I did go to see Ethan,” you admitted because what was the point in lying? “I don’t... I wasn’t going to sleep with him, but it doesn’t matter. I got to his door and I could hear his guest in the room with him.” You laughed and let your eyes drift away from Billy, unable to hold his gaze just then. “Keeps happening to me I guess.”

His hand came out and hesitated for a moment before he brushed the back of his fingers down your jaw.

“And so you came here?”

You still weren’t sure why you’d done that. You were mostly certain you had gone to Ethan’s room not to sleep with him at all; you wanted to tell him that you couldn’t do this anymore.

Seeing Billy had done something to you. As much as he hurt you, it seemed that he still owned part of your soul.

He stepped closer to you and those fingers tucked around the back of your neck before he tugged you in for a kiss. This one was just as much passion as the one before, but there was something else.

Desperation. As if this might not happen ever again and he wanted it to count.

You pulled back and met his eyes. You weighed your options before you gripped the bottom of your sweatshirt. In one smooth move, you pulled it over your head and dropped it to the floor. His eyes moved over your night clothes and the obvious lack of a bra.

He seemed to be waiting. His chest wasn’t even moving; he was frozen as he watched you step back into his space once more.

“Touch me Billy,” you requested softly, hoping your voice didn’t sound as desperate as you felt.

He didn’t need another invitation. His hands went to your hips and immediately tugged on your shirt, pulling it up and over your head as well. His mouth was on yours in an instant, making it hard for you to take his shirt off.

It took a little while for both of you to get naked since neither of you wanted to stop touching the other. Finally you were in the bed together, you straddling his lap as you kissed him hard. Your hips rolled as you could feel him hard against you.

His fingers dug into your thighs for a moment before he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. You let out a whine as you felt his teeth pull against your lip. The feel of his smirk against your mouth had you huffing out a breath before you pushed him back a bit.

“Condom?”

He let out a breath as he looked down between the two of you. He looked back up at your face and raised an eyebrow.

“This wasn’t exactly my plan,” he said as he cocked his head to the side a bit. “I don’t usually pack condoms when I’m working.”

In a weird way, that was a relief. You bit your lip.

The two of you had stopped using condoms near the end of your relationship. You were on the pill and both of you were clean. But then he’d slept with someone else…

No. You didn’t want to think about that.

“Guess we’ll have to make do,” you said as you scooted down his body until you could reach his cock with your mouth.

You slid your tongue over the hard length of him, relishing in the moan he let out at the touch. His hand went to the back of your head, a familiar touch that almost made you smile. You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and sucked. As you twirled your tongue around the head, his hand got a little tighter in your hair as he pushed you down a bit.

“Fuck, your mouth,” he said as his hips twitched upwards. Then he was grabbing your shoulder and pushing you back a bit. “Hold on, like this.”

After some movement, he was on his back and pulling you up towards him. Once you realized what he was doing, you moved to straddle his head.

He leaned up and licked between your folds. The touch of his tongue had you whining, hips rotating into the touch. While he found his rhythm, you leaned back down to continue sucking on him. You used your hand around the base to work the part you couldn’t fit into your mouth in this angle.

When you swallowed around him, his hips would jerk up and choke you a bit. This was offset by his tongue flicking against your clit and making you hump against his face to chase the feeling. He used his fingers as well, pushing one and then two inside you.

He was good at this. You’d almost forgotten.

His arm circled your hips to bring you down closer, his mouth working against you desperately. Your free hand scratched his thigh while you swallowed around him, tongue pressing up against him just the way he liked.

He was close. You pulled back and used your hand. Tight around the tip, twisting your wrist down the shaft; it had been a long time since you’d touched him, but you knew just how to do it. He turned his head and bit down on your thigh, his thighs clenching as he came.

You thought he’d take a second to come down, but he kept his fingers moving inside you. Then he was using his mouth again, his tongue circling your clit in rapid strokes.

“Billy,” you gasped as you sat up. You grabbed your breasts as you rolled your hips, chasing the feeling that was building. “So close.”

His hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling them apart a little more which threw you off balance. It caused you to drop your hands against his chest, basically grinding down against his head as you finally, finally reached your climax.

You climbed off of him and then off of the bed. On shaking legs you made your way to the attached bathroom to clean up a bit. Then you grabbed a clean cloth. You went back to the bed and tossed him the cloth.

He watched you carefully as he wiped first his mouth and then his stomach and thighs. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved over to find your underwear. You threw him his briefs before you slid your panties back on.

Then, with his eyes still on you, you made your way back over to the bed and sat down. He watched you for a moment before he shifted to pull up the covers.

He rolled to face you, his head propped up on his arm. You laid on your back at first; then you slowly rolled to face him.

You should just close your eyes and go to sleep. Or leave so that no one could catch you doing a walk of shame. But just then you were unable to make yourself move.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered as he stared at you. When you started to duck your head, he used his free hand to make you look at him again. “You won’t let me say something like that? You’ll come in here and push me around, but I can’t tell you that you’re beautiful?”

“No, you can’t,” you said quietly, but without any heat to your words. You were so tired right then. “You don’t get to tell me that I’m beautiful after you broke my heart.”

You should leave. You shouldn’t have this conversation right after what the two of you had just done.

His hand drifted down your jaw and over your shoulder, down the length of your arm before he twined his fingers with yours. His eyes had followed the path of his fingers, refusing to meet yours.

“I never cheated on you.”

It felt like a kick to the gut. You sat up, pulling the sheet with you to cover your chest. He hesitated for a moment before he followed suit.

His eyes finally met yours and you were stunned by the amount of pain that was there as his eyes darted between yours.

“What do you mean? You… you told me that you cheated on me. That wasn’t up for debate, right? You came over and said you’d fucked another girl because you were bored of me–”

Billy leaned in and kissed you, stopping the words that were spilling from your lips. And even though you wanted answers, you couldn’t help but respond to the kiss.

He pulled back after a moment and shook his head.

“I didn’t cheat on you. I lied.”

You felt sick. Despite your nudity and the air conditioner being on in the building, you felt like you were about to burst into flames.

Tears gathered in your eyes as you shook your head in disbelief.

“Then why? Wh–why would you lie? Did you just not want to be with me anymore? Because there’s easier ways to break up with someone.”

He reached up to thumb away the tears that had started to fall down your cheek. He shook his head as his fingers tucked under your chin to raise your head to meet his gaze.

“I was the happiest I’d ever been when I was with you; telling you that I cheated was the hardest thing I’d ever done. And remember, I’ve been to war,” he said with a slight uptick of his lips to try to lighten the mood.

You let out a watery laugh as you wiped at your eyes, leaning your head down so that you could brush your cheek against his hand.

“So why?”

He sighed before he explained, “Your father.”

Had you felt warm before? Because that felt like you’d been dunked in ice. You pulled away from him for a moment, a lump in your throat.

“Did he, what, pay you to break up with me?” Because that sounded like something he’d do.

“Hell no,” he replied vehemently, shaking his head as he did. “If he’d tried to pay me to do something like that, I would have happily told him where he could put his money.”

You raised your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. He seemed to notice that you were closing yourself off and he removed his hand, keeping it close to you but not actually touching you.

“I need you to tell me everything. I can’t handle this teeth pulling anymore,” you said miserably.

He nodded and turned so that he was facing you a little more fully.

“He came to Anvil one day. I uh, I don’t know if you remember me coming over one night unannounced. He’d stopped at Anvil and told me to break up with you, to break your heart if I had to, or he’d fire you from the company.” He laughed humorlessly before he explained, “I refused at first and he told me that if I didn’t do it, he’d give you the same options.”

You blinked once as you tried to process that. When you looked up at him, you saw the look on his face.

Oh.

“You thought I’d pick the company over you,” you said slowly as everything slowly started to make sense again.

He looked at you and shrugged a shoulder.

“I knew that it’d always been your dream to work for the family business. I knew how much the company means to you,” he added as his voice went a little hoarse.

From holding in the emotion.

Your chest hurt for a completely different reason. You released your legs and leaned a little closer to him, your hand coming out to rest against his chest over where his heart was.

“I never would have picked the company over you Billy. If that’s what it took, I would have picked you a hundred times.” His eyes narrowed a bit and you realized he didn’t believe. Couldn’t believe that you meant that. You leaned up to brush your lips against his gently. “I loved you more than I’d ever loved the company. I hate that I never showed you, that you didn’t know that you were the most important thing in my life.”

He leaned into the kiss, his lips brushing against yours sweetly. After the desperation and eagerness from before, this kiss was a nice reminder that there was always more between the two of you. Even when you wanted to hate him, even when you wanted to never see him again… part of you was tied to him.

You didn’t know what this meant for tomorrow. You didn’t know what this meant for after the conference was over.

It was all for nothing. Billy hadn’t trusted you to pick him over the company. You hadn’t pushed back on the idea that he would cheat on you. Your father…

You had been happy with Billy. You’d been happy and in love and hadn’t once dreamed that it would go to hell the way it had.

Now you knew the truth, but at what cost?

Let me know if you want to be added to my Permanent Tag List @hermioneshandbag @onebatch--twobatch @smiley-celine @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @starless-skyox @youveseen--thebutcher @citation-is-here @mightymelly @realduckvader @1550kilogramsofsilver @hxbbit @rockintensse @missphanosaur18 @thepuffyeyedpuff @kararanae23 @yessy2012 @gingerstarlight @siriusement @marauderskeeper @xinyourdreamsx @wickidlady @sassygirl25 @maraudereestauderelb @rainyboul @cutie-bug @random-quartz @holamor @lea----b @heyitslexy @detectivebourbon @coffeenmoscato @presstocontinue @elisemockingbird @assbuttwithwings @geeksareunique @siriuslovesmarlene @witch-of-letters @delicatelilyflower @l-l-c-m-w-b @whovianayesha @hiddenprincess @yannii04 @jeanettexkillian @brighteststarinthesky @kilyra @gallxntdean @sweetvengeancee @lady1505 @thedarklightwithinus @ateliefloresdaprimavera @siriuslyimmoony @elodieyung @fudgeflyss @madamrogers @thatwrestlingfan91 @teranya @sophiabulbu69 @delusionsofnostalgia @effielumiere @mamaraptor @hot-and-spiceyyy @i-padfootblack-things @aya-fay @fcavalerro @sithskywalkers @raquelbc2003 @nildaebony @iwishyoucouldbekissed @lostinthoughts23 @tamanamohain @newtstarmander @suchatinyinfinity @blushingskywalker @queencocoakimmie @funerals-with-cake @love-dria @arrowswithwifi @swiftyhowlz @cheyfleur @dark-night-sky-99 @margot-black @celestegolden @king4thesirens @beautifuldesastre @ashkuuuu @luminex3 @nerdypinupcrystal @iblogabout-stuff @curlyhairedblueeyedangel @myplaceofheavenorhell @cafeconsoya @kryyta @russosprettydiamondnow @dorkybryan @mahalobro @yesixoxo

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #my writing #best you ever had

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araliyaintheskywithdiamonds · 5 years

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Take Me Back - A CrissColfer Fic

Alright, here we are my wonderful readers. My final fic for this fandom. I know I haven’t been active as of late, but I’ve still been here, watching and listening, albeit with less dedication than before. My life is moving forwards at a rapid pace and I found that I couldn’t muster the energy to invest in this fandom, especially when I was finding myself supporting Darren less and less.

In addition, I found that it just wasn’t worth the effort. Certain things that happened affected me far more than I would have liked, and since my real life will always take precedence over anything that happens to Chris and Darren, I don’t have time or energy to spare.

To my readers, followers or anyone else who simply hung around, remember that these are two grown men who are perfectly capable of handling their own lives. You are not obliged to support them in everything that they do. You don’t have to be emotionally invested. If you feel as though involvement in this fandom is draining you, don’t hesitate to take a step back.

If you specifically don’t support what Darren is doing, that’s okay too. You don’t owe him anything. His decisions are his own.

Also, that woman isn’t worth an ounce of anyone’s time.

Anyway, this was all a stretched-out opening for my last CC fic. I’ll let you have a read to find out what it’s about. Based off Lord Huron’s The Night We Met.

(Also, for those who are wondering, I don’t buy this ridiculous bullshit for a minute. Yet, I just can’t seem to give a damn either. Live and let live.)

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

AO3

Chris wakes uncomfortably warm. The air around them is heavy and his shirt clings to his back, damp with sweat. Darren lies next to him, radiating heat like a furnace. He is, albeit fitfully, fast asleep.

Chris gets up, wincing as he peels his shirt off. They rarely leave the A/C on during the night because it irritates Darren’s eyes when he wakes up, but the windows usually remain open. This morning, they’re shut tight. They must have slammed closed with the winds last night.

As he draws the shades up, dull red light floods the room. The unfamiliar horizon glows cadmium, the sun rising like a portent. Chris winds the windows open, relishing the gust of cool air that comes with it. Red sky at night, he thinks, the phrase prickling on his tongue from beneath the sleep addled fog, sailors’ delight. Red sky at morning, sailors’ warning.

Chris almost laughs. He hasn’t forgotten what day it is today. He hasn’t been granted the mercy.

Darren stirs, knitting his brows and opening his eyes, squinting against the light. He registers Chris standing at the window. “It’s early,” he murmurs thickly.

Chris crosses back over to the bed, leaning over him, pressing a whisper of a kiss to his temple. “I know,” he says. “Go back to sleep.”

***

His hands are shaking. There’s nothing he can do to hide it and there really isn’t any point; Darren’s close enough to see every tremor. He doesn’t say anything though, only puts a hand on Chris’ waist, rubbing ever so gently with his thumb.

Chris can’t meet his eyes. He knows he won’t be able to handle the sadness in them, the thinly veiled misery.

Chris finishes tying the knot, smoothing his palms unsteadily down the front of Darren’s shirt. Darren catches one of his wrists, his left one. It gives Chris no choice but to look him in the eye- to give up, to give in.

“What do I say?” Darren asks quietly. The skin around his eyes is raw.

“I don’t know,” Chris replies. He can’t tear his gaze away from the pink smears blossoming on Darren’s skin. “Say that you love me?”

Darren laughs, short and thick. “That’s easy,” he says, and the next words arrive as easily as breathing. “I love you.”

Chris accepts the whisper of a kiss that comes with it, closing his eyes so as to convince himself that they could be somewhere else in that moment, Darren’s hands on his body, Chris’ lips on his.

The kiss tastes like salt.

A message pings on Darren’s phone, alien in the closing scene they’ve so unwittingly set for themselves. A sudden wave of hysteria hits Chris- he wants to crush that fucking phone, he wants to throw it out of the goddamn window. Instead, he says, calmly, respectably, “there’s your ride.”

Darren doesn’t even look at it. “Chris,” he says, near forcefully, “I love you.”

Chris wants to cry, even though this is all a game, all some fucked up pantomime. “I know you do.”

A second message pings, and Chris draws in a sharp breath. He kisses Darren, fimly, and then pushes him towards the door. “Give her dress a good trod for me.”

Darren snorts. “You bet, baby.” The worry clouding Darren’s eyes dissipates as Chris watches him put on his mask right before his eyes. It’s like watching someone slide into a new sheath of skin entirely. Darren swivels his watch around to look at the time, and grimaces.

“I’ll be home tonight,” he says, as always. One last kiss, one final embrace.

Chris watches Darren walk out of the door, red on the horizon, saline on his lips.

To every beautiful reader who ever kudos’d, liked, reblogged, or simply took in my words, thank you. You gave me confidence to pursue my writing, kept me company through rough years and brought me so much happiness. Thanks to you, perhaps I may publish something in the future.

All my love,

Araliya.

#CrissColfer #crisscolfer fanfiction #so long and farewell

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egoiistas · 6 years

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may i feel, said he (14)

first | tag | ao3 | ffn

[co-written with @tsaritsa]

a/n 10k views on ao3 and nearing 20k on FFN. we're absolutely gobsmacked.as always, ty for all ur comments!!! we hope this update will satify u - ana has been waiting a very long time to write one particular scene and we've had to push it back so many times...I finally let her have it.

Warnings: Sexual Content ™, cursing Words: ~7.5k || Rated: M - Royai

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

salt-laced and arched / dorianne laux, this close

The days, then weeks go on without Olivier.

Easier than it should be, Riza adjusts to another walking out the door. Every once in a while, a sad wave of nostalgia washes over her when she sees the significantly vacant living room or looking at the bare wall that once held frames and chic paintings. Even if some called her icy and dull, she had impeccable taste and Riza misses the colors on the wall. These small moments creep up on Riza when she least expects them, during the most inane moments of the day, and it's hard not to feel the loss and how it still stings like an accidental pinch to sensitive skin.

Perhaps she judged Olivier incorrectly, a voice in her head tells her snidely. Perhaps you chose wrongly, a darker, but smaller voice said. Riza can’t fault her former flatmate’s inability to understand her affair, no matter how much or how little it stings. It burns in the hollow parts where their friendship used to be, knowing that this man has a better and more intimate understanding of her as a person than Olivier would ever be capable of or want to be capable of. The sentiment is selfish and she knows this. In other situations, she respected Olivier’s ability to remain steadfast in her convictions.

All this comes to mind on a Friday evening, a quiet one when they are rarely so for Riza. Earlier she relished at the fact that she could take advantage of the quietude to get lost in her annotated-to-death anthology of Pablo Neruda’s works; to be comfortably situated in her own bed and just take in the evoking prose, and catch up on her laundry she was woefully behind on. The space would do her some good, she reasoned. A lot had happened in the last few weeks and a bit of alone time with her favourite poets and a Greed pizza from Hell’s would do her some good. It’s been a while since she’s had a moment with just her and a book and four walls.

Riza looks at the time, the walls, the fading pages, and realizes … why did she ever come to miss this. When did she grow to enjoy company?

Rebecca had come and gone after her classes, commenting on how rare it was to see her there on a Friday. Riza tried to explain but her friend looked like she was short for time, making a racket with her closet and in the bathroom. Riza could hardly catch where she was going, she’d hardly made mention of it as she was hurrying out of the apartment and then those words were cut off by the slamming on the door. Not that she expected it, but the lack of invitation probably meant that it was a date or something of the sort. That was hours ago and Riza finds herself a little disappointed, but mostly strange, that her phone isn’t blowing up with a play-by-play of the date’s shortcomings or successes. The commentary is a specialty of Rebecca’s humor.

Her friend was right: ordinarily, she wouldn’t be here. Over the course of a few months, Riza has slipped into a routine that she is loathe to have issue with. A bus would take her on a route that went past his neighbourhood, following her afternoon biochem class. Sometimes, she’d make a detour to the supermarket nearby to pick up a few things if a mood struck for something in particular, but more often than not she was content with takeout. It was a nicer environment than the library - she could spread out all the work she needed to do on the coffee table in his lounge and sprawl herself along his couch. The hot chocolate powder that had mysteriously arrived in the pantry one day wasn’t amiss either.

This time, however, her excuse was moot and she couldn’t expect a phone call or exchange of texts to change that either, because tonight he was travelling to Central for a conference where chemistry nerds were converging to relay to each other the latest findings. Roy was not as excited as she expected. In fact, he looked particularly disgruntled by the way he told her about it two weeks ago. He whined how not even professors were spared from homework, or ‘paperwork’ as he referred to it.

Eventually, she pushes away the distractions and enthralled for the millionth by The Heights of Macchu Picchu when her phone lights up and pings on her desk. Mindful of the book in her hands that is practically falling apart, she sets it down carefully, before stretching out to pull on the charging cable. The phone falls into her hand with practiced ease, and Riza can’t help the smile that grows on her face as she sees the name - nickname - emblazoned on her lockscreen.

Spanish Inquisition, 7:02pm I had a very interesting visitor today Spanish Inquisition, 7:02pm You didn’t think to warn me?

A chill runs down her spine. She’s trying her best not to jump to conclusions but a familiar sanctimonious smirk appears in her mind’s eye. She wouldn’t...would she? Calmly, she responds:

Avecilla, 7:02pm I would if I knew who to warn you about.

Spanish Inquisition, 7:03pm So you didn’t know. Hmm. Spanish Inquisition, 7:03pm Your other flatmate. Not blonde. Bushy black hair. Very opinionated. Spanish Inquisition, 7:03pm And loud

Spanish Inquisition, 7:04pm Came into my office hours in middle of a meeting with another student.

Her relief is short-lived as the reality settles in. Palm meets skin and she smacks her forehead. She loves Rebecca - honestly, truly - but the girl lived in the moment and rarely considered the consequences of her actions in the aftermath. She can’t discern his reaction though, not through text alone. Her thumb hovers over the icon at the top of the app. Surely he would’ve called her if he felt the conversation warranted it.

Avecilla, 7:04pm becca? Avecilla, 7:04pm oh fuck

Spanish Inquisition, 7:07pm ah so, becca’s her name! I wish she would have told me that

Spanish Inquisition, 7:07pm She said a lot about a lot of things, but not her name Spanish Inquisition, 7:08pm tbh I wasn’t really given a chance to say anything Spanish Inquisition, 7:08pm Do you know how weird it is to be lectured in my own office

Riza mutters a string of curses under her breath.

She switches messaging windows to Rebecca’s and stares at the blank chat box wondering which side to approach this from. Her fingers rest on the bridge of her nose imagining the scene of a riled up Rebecca busting in through that office door, telling the unsuspecting student to scram and then potentially ripping Roy a new one about who-knows-what with the signature hands-on-hips stance. It’s frustrating, it should be incredibly frustrating. What she had said, the manner in which she barged in, how it’s interpreted - all of it could be her demise but a chuckle bubbles up because... Classic Rebecca.

Unaware that the screen had dimmed, she sees it light up again with a call this time. “Hello?”

“You left me on read?” The other voice on the line greets her with hints of playful tones under that indignant choice of words. He continues smoothly, “Are you starting to think you’re the exception in all of this, avecilla?”

She snorts, smiling as she sat up. As far as she can tell he’s not irritated. “No exception to the embarrassment knowing Rebecca did that. If I had known that was even remotely crossing her mind - well, I would have stopped her.”

“Something tells me even if you did know, there’s no much that you could have done from stopping a force of nature like that.” Despite the noise of what she assumes is Central all around him, she can hear the tired smile on him. “I think you’re very lucky to have such a loyal friend who has terrifyingly specific medical knowledge on how to best remove a penis.”

“She didn’t...” Riza groans and leans back against her pillows, sliding the dog-eared anthology back from the edge of the bed before she covers her face.

“She did. I was perplexed for most of it, blinking at her as she paced in front of my desk.” Riza let the words sink down with her mortification and then she’s frozen when he says, “Does she do this with all your boyfriends?”

She isn’t sure why it tenses her; maybe its because it's finally given a name, even if it’s only a label, and an unsure, timid smile crosses her face. “Consider yourself special for getting the Rebecca treatment.”

“I consider myself lucky for other reasons, Riza.”

Her demeanor changes with the teasing lilt in his words. A half-smile begins to spring up over her lips, thankful he’s understanding - in whatever capacity - of this. “Care to share with the class?” She says coyly.

“Yes, that no one else heard. Or made any comment about it.” He says sternly and she sinks back into her pillows.

“I don’t know why she thought storming into your office would be a good idea.”

“Well it certainly worked out well enough for you, didn’t it?” Even though he’s making fun of her, she bites her lip at the memory, and the way his voice has dipped now, sultry and inflected with the accent that he was well aware that made her weak in the knees. He’s blatantly flirting with her.

Riza scoffs. “I believe our aims were a little different if we are going to be making comparisons.”

“Ah, so you did come with a goal in mind then.”

“Yes, sir. I-”

There are stifled chuckles on the other end. He is one of the few people clever enough to really get under her skin, get her riled up.

“If I recall correct, you admitted that I was baited into your office because of your stunt.”

“Mmm, did I now?” he asks, low and throaty.

At least the whiplash from the back and forth keeps her on her toes; she looks at them wiggling even now as she talks to him. “Mhm, I was there.”

He chuckles lightly and she hears someone greet him faintly in the background. “Let me call you back so I can get into this hotel room.”

“Oh, of course.”

They don’t share many phone calls but even from the first day, she’s known his voice was pleasant. Especially when he wants it to be. His laugh was warm down the line, and inexplicably she finds herself missing him, despite talking to him this morning however briefly.

The phone rings and she greets him with a standard “hello.” When no sound comes from the other end, she checks the screen to make sure the line is connected.

“So…” he starts and it sounds like he plops on a bed. “What are you wearing?”

She blinks. “What?”

He enunciates each word. “What - are - you - wearing?”

She sinks down the length of her headboard. “You’re not serious.”

He tuts. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Clothing.”

“You’re no fun, Miss Hawkeye.”

“Maybe it’s because I’d rather have you here to show me what you want.”

“So would I.” There’s a wistful edge to his voice. “Do you have other plans? I was under the impression that you had a date with some laundry and pizza.”

“I had a date,” she emphasises. “Besides... I don’t think I’d be too good at it.”

“Trial and error, right? There’s no pressure to do anything you’re not comfortable with and we can always stop whenever you’d like.”

Likewise, she gets up and locks the door to her bedroom even though she knows Rebecca won’t be home for a while yet - certainly not after that stunt. “What a gentleman.”

“I like to think so.” She can hear his smile. “So...what are you wearing?”

Riza smiles in turn, feeling foolish. It’s such a ridiculous question on top of a ridiculous act. Tightening her grip on her phone, she figures telling him the truth of her rather vanilla pyjamas would probably detract from the mood of… whatever this was. She knows enough about “phone sex” - even in her mind it leaves a weird, tingly feeling - to at least humor him. She sighs into the phone, “It’s warm tonight, so I decided to wear something comfy to bed. Something so I can wiggle under the covers without feeling ...constricted.”

“Shorts?” The voice at the other end sounds surprised and she clearly sees him, in her mind’s eye, leaning in closer with interest and probably a smirk.

Riza bites her lower lip. “Less.”

“Oh.” He sounds delighted. “Well, if you’re going to have me guess what Riza Hawkeye wears on her days off… the top to her pajamas and her small clothes.”

He knows her too well. With little movement, she slides her underwear down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. She laughs, a little nervously. “Less.”

“Aren’t you naughty tonight?”

“I’ve been asked to,” Riza teases and shifts against her pillows. “Now, tell me something.”

“Yes?”

She’s unfamiliar with this certain kind of ...adventure. Nonetheless, she’s still willing to try. “How... excited are you?”

“Mhm. Let’s see.” She faintly hears fabric shifting, zippers unzipping, and if she wasn’t listening so intently, she would have missed the light groan. “Very.”

She licks her lips, imagining him sitting on the edge of her bed. Her legs cross; as a pleasant surprise, her arousal settles hotly in between them. “Tell me why.”

“You. Your legs. Spread and losing myself between them. Your body on mine.”

“You’re worse than me, sir.” There is a throbbing pulse right at her core in rhythm with the hard thrumming in her chest. It feels warm and slick without having to touch herself, though the temptation to is becoming harder to ignore. “What would you do?” she asks, cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear. “If you had me there.”

His laugh is delicious - she closes her eyes as a shiver runs over her bare skin. “Enough about me, avecilla. How eager would you be if you were here?”

“I’m hardly-”

“Try.”

Leaning back, Riza tries to imagine her own fantasies. “If I was there-” she hears a throaty chuckle, “- I’d get on my knees, relieve you of those pesky trousers...” A daring hand slips in between her legs and her fingers are glistening when she lifts them back up to the light.

“And?” His voice has become husky, rumbling through his throat.

“I’d take you into my mouth.” She answers automatically, distracted from her slow stroke, playing with herself. It’s true - previously, with other fumblings, she had done her part to make her partner feel good - but with him she is surprised to find herself enjoying the act so thoroughly. Maybe it’s a power thing. The image of him watching her take him into her mouth with hooded eyes and a slack jaw is something she holds close to her heart. She does that to him.

Nobody else.

It takes him a moment to respond and when he does, his words are marked with a smidgen of strain. “Fast or slow?”

She doesn’t realize until this moment that her eyes have fallen shut, her head thrown back. “Slow at first, tasting you, feeling how hard you are in my mouth and growing harder with my tongue.”

“At first?” Roy asks curiously. “You’d want me to make you go faster, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I do-” she admits, gasping with the building pleasure of using two fingers to stimulate her clit.

“Grabbing you by your hair to so you can feel me go deeper.”

“Yes…” His fingers coiled in her hair, his cock around her lips getting wetter each time she retook him in her mouth, the aching between her thighs increasing with every second -

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” Riza thought a laugh would leave her, instead she moans into the phone, feeling a warmth flush her skin pink. She’s wet enough to hear it, rubbing herself. She settles on the bed properly now, lying flat with the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. Gasping lightly, Riza slides a finger, then two inside herself as her other hand grabs her own breast, ghosting over the tip of her sensitive nipple.

“And where would you like me to fuck you?”

“Take me however you’d like me.” The truth is she can’t really think. She’s lost in her own fantasies. Against the wall with her legs over his hip; from behind where he could dig his nails into her as they picked up the pace; on top of him where she could feel him reaching depths that had her voice filling the room - it didn’t matter. There is an aching in her that her fingers cannot fulfill. He was too far away. She wants him here, with her and her shitty second-hand bed and the evidence is soaking her digits to her knuckles.

His groan reverberates through the phone lines and into her ear and she can almost feel the hot breath in her ear and his familiar scent.

She breathes in as hoping his phantom scent would materialize just for her. She begins, “I’m y-”

Her bedroom door opens.

“Rebecca!” she screeches. Mortified, she drops her phone, urging her roommate to get out. She can only imagine his confused expression as she swears black and blue and Rebecca is cackling madly in the background. She covers herself with her blanket, chasing her out and slams the door behind her. There’s a chuckle wedged in between the “I’m sorry!” Rebecca shouts from the other side of the door.

Her phone is still lit up, the call remaining in progress as she approaches her bed. “Roy..?” she breathes after the entire debacle. Paper crinkles beneath her feet. She quickly pulls them back and hisses under her breath.

“I’m here,” he responds after a moment and he sounds a little spent. “Did we have unfortunate timing again?”

She sighs as she kneels down, her blanket pooling around her feet. “What’s the matter?” he presses.

Riza groans as she sees the scattered pages across her room. The hardcover of her anthology lies face down, open. The spine of it must’ve hit the floor first. She crouches though her legs shake and picks up the annotated papers. “It’s nothing.”

Other than the shifting of someone on a bed, there’s silence on the other end until he speaks again. “It doesn’t sound like nothing, avecilla.”

She nestles the phone in between her ear and shoulder as she collects the remnants of the book in earnest. “A book I was reading before you called fell off the bed and the pages came apart.”

“You certainly haven’t shown me that kind of vigor to make a book fall apart.”

She huffs into the phone, hoping her flattened brow expression would be received telepathically. “It was old.”

“I’m not that old.”

“The book.”

She can hear him stifle a chuckle, but he fails by snickering anyway. It makes her smile too. “Now I see. In any case, I’m sorry to hear that. Which book was it?”

Riza flips the cover as if she didn’t already know. “An old poetry book I bought when I was younger. Neruda.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate.”

“What’s unfortunate is that I was… almost getting into it,” she admits, slipping on a different pair of underwear.

She can just imagine the disappointed expression on his face. “That’s even more unfortunate. But there’ll be other times if the moment is ruined.”

Again, she smiles because of his understanding, despite her embarrassment and she’ll admit to herself that she’s little forlorn over missing the opportunity to hear him reach an orgasm right in her ear. “I think for right now it is. I need to clean up this mess and then there’s my other date that needs tending to.”

“Laundry isn’t that necessary, is it? By all means, walk around naked if you’d like. I certainly won’t protest.”

Riza grins, holding back the laughter. She manages to sternly volley back, “One of us has to remain civilized.”

He scoffs. “I’m hurt.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Call me back once you’re done?”

Genuinely and warmly this time, she smiles. “If you behave.”

“So no dick pics?”

It takes a lot of willpower not to snort audibly. “Surprise me, sir.”

With his return, she realizes only a few weeks remain before classes end officially. Riza’s always taken initiative for her assignments with diligence, but there’s always the influx of assignments at the end of the term, projects to wrap up, or reports to finalize. Still aiding him when she can in the evenings, her free time becomes increasingly limited.

There’s a new, long list of journals and books that Roy requires for his research that they read and eventually determine the value of this information. On top of this already tedious work, she offers to help grade the essays from the two 100-level courses he teaches in addition to her Chemical Literature class.

It’s boring, menial and uninspiring work: the amount of grammatical, spelling and formatting errors has Riza throwing her pencil away from her in frustration on more than one occasion. The content of said work is of an even lesser quality. It aggravates Riza when it’s obvious to her that some these students don’t give a flying fuck about their education. Or they do, but they have a shit way of showing it.

Some dark part of her forms from this trial and she takes joy tearing into the worst of the essays via text messages to him. In turn, he responds with the excuses and the pleas for extensions or redacted frantic emails that come in once students factor in the weight of the participation grade.

Spanish Inquisition, 11:53 pm 3 years Spanish Inquisition, 11:53 pm 3 years and they still ignore the bolded text Spanish Inquisition, 11:53 pm It’s in caps you know. Spanish Inquisition, 11:53 pm PARTICIPATION GRADE: 35% Spanish Inquisition, 11:54 pm It’s almost like they forget that in order to participate they have to attend class.

Avecilla, 11:57 pm Strike them down Spanish Inquisition, 11:58 pm HA Avecilla, 11:58 pm I mean Avecilla, 11:58 pm How cruel are you going to be?

Spanish Inquisition, 11:59 pm Most will get a B or similar Spanish Inquisition, 11:59 pm Not enough for them to storm to the dean and complain i’m unfair, but maybe enough to encourage them to maybe try next time

The weeks fly by because of this and she can only think of one time in the last few weeks where they’ve actually managed to do more than just kiss. Riza isn’t one to keep tallies, but it was after a late night of simultaneously grading, reading and working on her final assignments. She was tired. She knew he was too, and while she could only blame herself for suggesting it, it didn’t make her any less frustrated when he drifts to sleep with his dick in her mouth. Rebecca harbored no sympathy for her either. She merely texts ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA’ and then sends far too many tongue-in-cheek gifs implying Riza was “thirsty.”

Even if she was, Riza muted her best friend and finished herself off, but not before almost succumbing to sleep once or twice.

Every time after that, when they managed to have more coffee or sleep in, they were rudely interrupted in some other way. As if it were sacrilege he had taken that one time for granted, he jested once, and it soon became laughable what the universe kept throwing at them.

The workload was understandable, forgivable, and inevitably out of their control. Then, it was constant miscalculations of how little time they had: either she had a class or he had one to teach or office hours, or I’m about to crash and we both know how the last time worked out. It was driving her up the walls - and not in the ways she’d preferred.

They reach a point of recklessness. They take advantage of his empty office with a locked door on the final days after class. He cancels his office hours that morning after her assurances that her assignments were up to par and she could afford the distraction. Riza finds herself pleasantly nestled between euphoria and giddiness from the frantic way they paw at each other’s clothes. Or it’s the way she sat on the edge of his desk and the cool air tickled in the moist heat in between her legs. Or the little tinge of pride from cancelling his office hours just for her. Or perhaps a combination of it all. Irresponsible, to be sure, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t flattered how much he desired her, as if it were anything to question. She thinks, in foolish desperation, that the odds are in their favour this time.

She’s wet and ready from his fingers playing with her as they kiss, bringing him closer with her legs as her soft moans are muffled by his lips. Her hands reach for the buckle of his belt and she chuckles lightly when she detours further south to palm the erection under the cloth of his pants. Let’s free it, she thought then and refocused on the buckle, because she is fed up with all this teasing and none of the fingering. He’s given her a light orgasm already - the kind that leaves her wanting, that she only needed to bite down on her lip for - but it’s made her insatiable now. There’s just something so good about having him in her, and as much as she loves his fingers and dexterity, they cannot mimic the stretch and feeling of fullness he alone provides. “I want you,” she murmurs under his lips, drunk from her lust, as she unbuckled the belt with practiced fingers.

Loud and obnoxious, an alarm suddenly blares. Sound fills the room and it’s like a bucket of cold water over her; it takes them both a moment to recenter themselves back to earth. Her fingers uncurl from his pants and inwardly she mourns the loss of contact. The urge to keep going is strong; after all, when are fire alarms set off for a legitimate reasons anyway? It’s an irrational thought and Riza can hardly hear anything else. They fix themselves up hastily and exit the building; everybody they pass seemingly none the wiser. She lets herself drift away from him - a few metres and several people between them when they reach the evacuation point, reminding herself that there are other people here and this close to the end of classes is no excuse to relax her standards. She’s just...frustrated. A voice that sounds a lot like Rebecca’s teases that she’s actually just horny.

If she’s honest, she hates the shame that trickles down her spine at this unadulterated want. In a different time, with a less conservative upbringing to influence her choices, she wouldn’t find this shame and guilt currently she’s currently wrestling with. She would be more like Rebecca or even Olivier where it’s not on her radar, coming and going as she pleases. But if her circumstances were different, she probably wouldn’t even be here, studying for a Bachelor of Science as a means to connect with her absentee father.

Riza miraculously catches his eyes as the crowd slowly shuffles further back on the field as more people spill out of the Joseph Hunter Science Building. He mouths something to her, but her lipreading is terrible and she shrugs her shoulders, lifting up her phone to their field of vision.

Spanish Inquisition, 10:23am 10 minutes leaves enough time to return the favor of the other night.

The fire alarm had killed most of their time before her next class, but she forgoes punctuality in favor of four minutes of feeling his hair in between her fingers while his lips kiss in between her legs. In the end, her tardiness was excused.

Finally - finally, she thinks they’ve managed a miracle. Her final assignments are as ready as they’ll ever be, waiting for one final read-over before submission, and his last block of essays have been graded and handed back to their respective classes. Draped over him in the same chair in his apartment study where they first fucked, she’s allowing herself to celebrate as she cups his jaw with her hands, her tongue sliding against his pleasantly.

He hardens underneath her and she’s none too shy about unbuttoning his shirt as he has done for her. Pushed down to her elbows, the shirt is rid of her and it’s a painful few seconds when she pulls away to be free of it properly. He looks sinfully decadent beneath her, a lazy smirk growing on his face as one hand deliberately hooks a finger under her bra strap, tugging it down. Her lingerie choices have been adventurous in recent weeks - the pastel blue lacy number she’s currently wearing is definitely not designed for any exercise more taxing than walking, and judging by the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, Riza knows with certainty that she’s found a keeper.

His fingers brush over her nipples, and she briefly shuts her eyes as he pinches before pulling the fabric down and draws her close, tongue soothing the puckered skin. Her hands curl into his hair, scratching at his scalp and Riza’s uncaring of the breathy moans leaving her - this is divine, and the wait has certainly been worth it.

Roy’s hands drift down and slide under her skirt, fingers gliding over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, leaving tingling sensations in its wake. He is only mere inches from her arousal and a great deal of willpower goes into preventing herself from pushing his hand forward.

He takes off his glasses and she sets them behind her on the large desk. Her hands go through his hair as he cups her breast and brings her other nipple into his mouth, using his tongue to tease the tip and even nip at it gently with his teeth. His other hand clutches at her ass to bring her closer as if the distance they have was remotely unbearable. Riza gasps into his hair, grinding her hips over his lap, and his scent is mixed with sweat. It’s a dangerous, addicting blend, and she shudders in his lap as his fingers stroke across her bare skin. He releases her nipple slowly from between his teeth before shifting back to her other one and she remembers a joke he said about her breasts deserving equal treatment.

And then, in the middle of this achingly wonderful treatment - his ringtone goes off.

Roy groans for all the wrong reasons, throwing his head back. He keeps them steady as he awkwardly reaches his back pocket for his phone. “Pfft, it’s just Hughes,” he mutters after a concerted effort and sets the cell down on the chair of the arm. Softer and locked on her other unattended breast, he mumbles with a mouth full of her, “He can leave a message.”

Riza doesn’t remember which one is Hughes and she’s not given much time to think about it when his mouth returns to her breast and his hand squeezes, massages, tweaks at the other. She’s at the point of moaning out if you say so when the vibrations and standard tune rings out again.

He stops altogether and after a few seconds, it dies to a stop only to start up again. His attention is needed again, and she’s never felt quite as pissed off at an inanimate object as she does right now. Roy growls and sits back, picking up the phone. “Let me just see what he wants.”

She nods wordlessly and he starts the conversation, going beyond standard small talk after a few moments. She can hear the other man talking; an excitable person who gets even more excited when he talks about certain topics. She can’t discern what they’re talking about exactly, but Roy gives the occasional mhm and yeah when it’s warranted.

Riza figures she can go wait for him in the bedroom. Perhaps sprawled out with a bright, blinking sign that says ‘insert here’ in between her legs should he fail to see how much she wanted him that afternoon; she blames Rebecca’s influence for that kind of ridiculous humor. Riza starts to climb off him and stops when she’s kept in place from his hand gripping the fabric of her skirt. He wants her to stay there? She frowns and points at the phone. His brows furrow and he shakes his head, putting a finger over his mouth, telling her to be quiet.

Well, she can go be quiet in the other room. She can respect his privacy. It’s not a big deal; they had the entire evening to themselves. Well, nearly - but she’d be damned if she’d let any other distractions interrupt them after this call. She deserves to be fucked thoroughly.

Roy is apparently impatient, however. The hand holding the finger over his mouth flattens over her thigh and coasts up to the edge of her skirt. He thumbs the skin there, teasing the idea that he could touch her in the middle of this conversation. She looks at him knowingly when he crosses underneath the folds of her skirt, yet he continues on talking as though nothing has happened. He caresses the skin inside her thighs as he talks about something or the other: Riza isn’t concentrating on that, instead absorbed with the sensation of his fingers drifting higher and higher. She waits patiently, but his touch somehow makes her hotter, wetter. A devious finger lightly ghosts over the linen of her damp underwear and he says a perfectly timed “Oh?” towards the caller and to her. Riza blushes and grabs at his wrist.

She can sit up, she can leave the room, she knows that he’d respect that, but she doesn’t want to. She realizes there’s a morbid curiosity as to how and why he does things and she always wants to know. This is moment is one of them. It’s why she doesn’t stop him when he tugs aside the cloth of her underwear and wets his fingers with what’s in between her lips. Her frown dissipates and she gasps as if she’s been starved from his touch, like it’s an electrifying drug she’s been having withdrawals from. The sensations of his fingers rubbing against her clit is familiar and unknown, and she lets her head fall back, relishing in the feeling and clawing lightly at the armchair.

His fingers leave her and he cleans them off with his mouth before gesturing her to be quiet with a finger over his mouth again. She thinks she can hear his friend say “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responds, looking directly at her with a devious glint in his eyes. “Just eating. Go on.”

A warm tingle shoots down her spine and spreads across her abdomen down to her groin. She’s been enraptured by a lunatic and she’s allowed it to happen, even now when he aims to touch her again. With a bite to her knuckle, she grasps at his loosened shirt when his fingers return to remind her how obnoxiously needy she has become. Giving into this notion, she moves to hover over his lap for shameless access. He bites a bottom lip at this, staring her from the wrinkled mess of her skirt to her flushed, knuckle-biting face. She’s wet enough that an easy orgasm is on the horizon from the slow, rubbing stimulation on her clit. Riza makes the mistake of thinking he’ll stop there, because then one finger enters her and then another. Her reaction is unexpected, even to her. She falls back to his lap and bites the fleshy side of her palm to quell the noises. Her spread legs allow him to finger her, so he does. Slowly. In and out, and the noises would make her die of mortification if she weren’t enjoying every satisfyingly building moment of this pleasure. His palm is hitting her stimulated clit with each stroke and she’s grasping at his shirt once more, trying to salvage what solid ground she can keep as the pleasure rises within her..

He slows down when she’s at the precipice of a delicious orgasm that she even licks her lips, and decides to become an active participant in his phone call. But it’s not in English. He shifts to Spanish while his hand moves against her more patiently. She tries to catch her breath from holding it but it’s impossible not to listen to the way he’s talking. It’s fascinating how melodic a different language sounds and how much of a turn on it is for her. He speaks this language faster. His R’s roll off his tongue and somehow there’s more sensuality in his voice. It’s mesmerizing.

His attention turns back to her when moments ago he was staring at some place off to the side. He looks to her hips and she doesn’t even realize - until he does - how subtly she was moving them. Roy pauses, eyebrows furrowed before a downright hungry grin forms on his face, and his fingers begin to move once more.

“Estoy eschuchando,” he answers the person on the other line, his diction shifting into a huskier tone, each syllable pronounced lower and slower. She thought it was bad enough when he spoke it casually, but when he did it deliberately? She can only handle so much stimuli, and by this point she’s uncaring of how shameless she’s acting, how she’s become putty in his hands. She’s drunk on this orgasm she can feel barrelling towards her, on the lust and desire she feels for him. She’s never felt it quite like this before - this want that feels more like a need with every passing second. She wants to take the phone and hang it up for him, but she opts for pulling at the collar of his partially unbuttoned shirt and biting the taut muscle at the meeting of his neck and shoulder. He maintains that paced fingering in and out of her. She knows she’s tightening around his fingers because of the paced movement.

With his deliberate words at her ear, his fingers inside her, and the smell of his bare skin, she climaxes against him, taking deep breaths and every measure to stifle the moans and groans. Her head rests over his shoulder, hot breath hitting his neck. She can see him swallowing and doesn’t know why she didn’t think to give him the same torturing she just endured.

He’s hard. She can feel it and see it in this light. She palms it, clutches it, strokes it, and he swallows thickly again. He sounds strained when he cuts off the caller and abruptly says, “I’ll have to call you back.” Roy ends the call and the phone is tossed to the wayside as his fingers slide out of her.

She grabs his cock harder and he surprises her by standing up, supporting her by her underside until she’s laid on his desk directly behind her, over the papers she had spent last week meticulously highlighting. She lifts her hips to help with the removal of her own underwear. As he works with his own pants she tries to salvage what’s underneath her to little success. Distracted by her menial task, she gasps, surprised, when her wrists are manacled and set at either side of her head. Her breathing is heavy, his too. The tip of him nudges at her entrance and she moves against it, towards it just for the stretch a little bit more of him inside her.

“A little bird tells me you have a secret.”

Riza smiles coyly after a futile attempt to use her legs to bring him forward. “Hardly a secret if you know about it,” she manages, half-heartedly trying to move her arms. He doesn’t budge an inch, his smile dark and promising. She supposes at this point nothing should really surprise her when it comes to her newfound appreciation for less-than-vanilla sex, but there’s just something so inherently sexy about being pinned down by him, even as simply as she is right now. The temporary loss of control is so easy to lose herself in.

Roy observes her hungrily. “A kink then.”

The initial thrust makes her gasp sharply and he groans pleasantly. Her limbs dangle off the side as he fucks her over his desk. Where he was well-paced before, he is erratic now, but he won’t find complaint from her in that regard. She has no means of quieting herself with her hands where they are, and biting down at her teeth proves inefficient when each of his thrusts touch places she’s been yearning for weeks, when the stretch she’s been hungry for is finally given to her. Her eyes are shut, mouth open, body subject to this carnal movement. She doesn’t think to see beyond her eyes for the time being, what expressions his face is making or anything that will take her away from the here and now of the feelings of the sex. She feels selfish for relishing in this, but fuck, it’s been a long time coming and this sex proves it.

He lets go of her wrists and brings her toward him to hang just a little more over the desk by way of her legs. She reaches over her head at the other end of the desk, moaning into the inside of her arm, clutching the edge as if it were her salvation from plunging into the deep.

Her eyes open suddenly when he thumbs her clit. She looks at him and there’s a wolfish grin on his face, enjoying her reactions in the ways she squirms, moans, mewls, and tightens. Her fingernails scratch at the desk for purchase, for breath, but he continues with sweat beading his brow until he grunts a little louder and his final thrusts hit deeper as he cums inside her.

Her own orgasm follows shortly after, and she’s left quivering on the desk, well aware of the sight she is before him. She can feel his seed leaking out of her as her pulls out, and automatically her fingers move to catch it - like hell was she going to completely debase the paperwork that was crumpled underneath her. He utters a strange, strained grunt, running a hand through his hair roughly.

“I’ve told you, you can’t just do that with no warning.”

“Oh?” Her hand rises back up to her mouth and she wets her lower lip in anticipation. “Do this?” Her tongue darts out to lap at the milky, viscous fluid and while the taste is not delightful, the reaction that he has most certainly is. She barely has time to repeat her actions before his hand closes firmly over her own, and pulling her up to a sitting position at the edge of his desk.

“No,” he tells her firmly, though the matching smile on his lips belies any real annoyance. “If you’re going to be the death of me I’d at least like to get my money’s worth.” The kiss he drops on her forehead is soft. “I’ll get you a washcloth,” he says, fixing up his trousers loosely. The faint trail of hair sticks out against his lower abdomen like a beacon and Riza swallows the urge to coax him back for another round.

She adjusts the straps of her bra back up on her shoulders and nicks his discarded shirt from the ground. Her skirt is a crumpled, lost cause, and Riza makes a mental note to pick up an iron at some point this weekend - she hadn’t noticed it immediately, but of the many appliances Olivier had taken with her, the iron was the one she had relied on the most. Rebecca had bitched endlessly about the mini espresso machine that had also disappeared, though it had quickly been replaced.

She rolls up the sleeves of his shirt as she walks down the hallway towards the kitchen, humming under her breath. Roy would probably appreciate a cup of coffee, she thinks, focusing on doing the buttons up correctly as she passes by the island countertop and the man sitting there.

She stills, before turning to make sure she’s seeing right. The man looks up from the plate in front of him and raises his mug in greeting, the lowlights from the kitchen reflecting strangely on his glasses.

“You kids had fun?” he asks, before taking a sip. His tone is light, breezy, and he gestures to the plate in front of him when she doesn’t respond. “You’re probably hungry after that, uh-” he breaks off laughing, ducking his head “-after that workout. My wife made a quiche - you should have some, it is the best in the world, and I’m not biased.”

#royai #roy mustang #fullmetal alchemist #royai fanfiction #riza hawkeye #*may i feel #*shine #fma #A LONG ONE #and hey look two weeks within the last one #AYYYYYYYYYY #hope you enjoy because.....i know i did

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orbemnews · 3 years

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Terry McAuliffe wants to be Virginia's governor again. His opponents say it's time to move on. The former governor of Virginia, four years removed from the end of his first term, is vying for another shot at leading the commonwealth, running as the closest thing to an incumbent in a place that bars governors from serving successive terms. McAuliffe enters the race as the clear frontrunner, buoyed by a significant fundraising advantage, a who’s who list of endorsements and near total name recognition. But both Democratic politics and Virginia have changed since McAuliffe’s successful 2013 run, a shift exemplified by the Democratic legislature — which went blue in 2019 with McAuliffe’s help — moving to abolish the death penalty, tighten gun laws and reckon with the legacy of the Confederacy in a commonwealth closely tied to the Civil War South. With less than three months until the Democratic gubernatorial primary, McAuliffe — who faced no primary challenge eight years ago — is now being pushed by younger, more liberal challengers to explain how a leader synonymous with the political establishment reflects the future of the commonwealth and not the politics of a bygone era. The anti-McAuliffe charge ahead of the June 8 primary has been led by former Virginia delegate Jennifer Carroll Foy and Del. Lee Carter, two gubernatorial candidates who have been unabashedly critical of the former governor. Two other Democrats — state Sen. Jennifer McClellan and Lt. Gov. Justin Fairfax — haven’t been as pointed in their criticism of McAuliffe, but they have all echoed a similar message: McAuliffe’s time has passed. “He was the right candidate for that moment. He was the right governor for that moment,” said McClellan, referring to McAuliffe’s 2013 bid, which she supported. “Times have changed. Virginia has changed.” McAuliffe, a figure whose story in the Democratic Party is defined by millions of dollars raised, the Clintons and a tenure as chair of the Democratic National Committee, dismisses any suggestion he isn’t the future of the party. He points out that even after his time as governor, Virginia Democrats called on him to lead the effort that eventually won control of the Virginia General Assembly, giving the party full control of the state’s government for the first time in more than two decades. “I don’t pay any attention to them,” he said of his opponents suggesting his time has come and gone. “I’m laying out my own plan on why I’m running.” Any Democrat who wins the primary will be facing a Republican Party in turmoil, one where Virginia Republicans are searching for a standard bearer at a time when the national party is split between tying themselves to the vision of former President Donald Trump or breaking away from the failed 2020 candidate. A series of Republicans are laying the groundwork for a gubernatorial bid, including state Sen. Amanda Chase, businessman Pete Snyder, Del. Kirk Cox and businessman Glenn Youngkin. McAuliffe has already flooded his Democratic opponents in three things: Money, policy and endorsements. The prolific fundraiser fired a warning shot early in the campaign when he announced he had raised $6.1 million in 2020, a staggering number that dwarfed his opponents’ own efforts. And when he announced in December, his candidacy came along with a long list of endorsements, including a number of high-profile Democrats who serve with some of his primary challengers. Since then, McAuliffe has rolled out policy after policy, aiming to both burnish his progressive credentials and argue that because Virginia is now in Democratic control, something the governor did not enjoy during his tenure, he will be able to get more done. “I leaned in (as governor), but I had a Republican legislature. Now, with a Democratic legislature, all the big things that need to be fixed, we can get done,” he said. “Heck, I just warming up. You give me a Democratic legislature, there is no stopping me.” ‘The appetite for career politicians… is long gone’ McAuliffe’s desire to run for a second term as governor has long been one of the worst kept secrets in the commonwealth. The former chair of the DNC and CNN political commentator relished the job, often joking about how his election — after Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson served as Virginia’s first and second governors — was a sign of American exceptionalism. If McAuliffe were to win in November, however, he would do something neither Henry nor Jefferson ever did: Serve two four-year terms as the commonwealth’s chief executive. The Virginia constitution prohibits governors from serving two successive terms and very few Virginia politicians have done so. The last person to do it was Mills Godwin, a segregationist who won as a Democrat in 1966 and as a Republican in 1974. McAuliffe argues that even though he feels like he accomplished everything he could as governor — “I don’t know if you could find (a regret). I mean, I worked like a dog,” he said — it just makes sense for him to reprise a role that is part Virginia’s chief executive, part commonwealth cheerleader. Virginians “know I can get things done,” McAuliffe said. “I did it before and they all know with a Democratic legislature, boy, I feel bad for those other 49 states cause I’m telling you Virginia is going to lead the country.” But his third run at governor (he tried and failed to win the party’s nomination in 2009) also means standing in the way of possible history: If either McClellan or Foy were to win, she would become both the first woman to lead Virginia and the first Black woman governor in US history. The significance of making such history, especially in a state that once housed the Capitol of the South during the Civil War, is powerful to both women. “I feel the weight of it because… to know what my family has gone through, the fights that my parents and my grandparents and my great grandparents had to fight, to know that I’m still fighting those fights and I need to keep my children from fighting those same fights, I feel the weight of that,” said McClellan, growing emotional as she described the potential for history. “I feel the weight of knowing I am running for a position in a system that was never built for me.” To McAuliffe’s opponents, the reasoning for his candidacy is deeply flawed. And no candidate is more eager to go after McAuliffe than Foy, who resigned her assembly seat in December to focus on her gubernatorial run. “I can’t allow Terry McAuliffe to run a status quo race, while he romanticizes his time as governor,” said Foy, who has argued her experience as one of the first women to every graduate from Virginia Military Institute and a mother of two who still struggles with child care and student loan debt is more representative of the commonwealth. Foy has attacked McAuliffe on everything from donations he has taken to deals he made as governor to the fact he did little to address Confederate monuments. But her overarching criticism is that she represents Virginia’s most progressive future, while McAuliffe represents the past. “The appetite for career politicians who have continued to maintain the status quo that has hurt so many Virginians is long gone,” she said in an interview. But Foy is not alone in trying to run on McAuliffe’s left. Lee Carter, the self-proclaimed democratic socialist state delegate with deep ties to the Bernie Sanders network of supporters and liberal organizations, has begun to lambast the former governor as not progressive enough. “I see him as the guy that got us here and that’s in very, very real ways,” Carter told CNN, hammering McAuliffe for his support of pipelines through the state and economic policies that focused more on the rich than the poor. “We’ve spent the last eight years fighting against some of the worst things from McAuliffe’s time as governor.” Neither McClellan nor Fairfax has been as direct in their criticism of McAuliffe as Foy and Carter, but their differences are primarily in tone, not substance. “The voters decide what they are looking for in their candidates and in their visions for the future. But I do think it is very clear that people want their leaders to be focused on a vision for the future,” said Fairfax. For Fairfax, opposing McAuliffe is personal. During a chaotic period in Virginia government, Fairfax was accused of sexual assault by two women in 2019. Both women still stand by their allegations. Fairfax denied both accusations and continues to fight them to this day. He had filed a defamation suit against CBS, in which he alleged the network defamed him when, in 2019, it aired interviews with the two women. A judge dismissed the case last year, but Fairfax has appealed the decision, the Associated Press reported. It is apparent that it still bothers the lieutenant governor and people close to him that McAuliffe, by then the former governor, had quickly called for him to step down due to the allegations. Voters are “totally against the politics of the past and the traditional tactics of personal destruction that we have seen govern for too long,” Fairfax said, a not-so-subtle nod to McAuliffe. ‘People are looking for tested leadership’ McAuliffe supporters, when pressed on the attacks facing the former governor, will often compare him to another centrist Democrat who has found recent success: President Joe Biden. “People are looking for tested leadership,” said Louise Lucas, the president pro tempore of the Virginia state Senate and a McAuliffe campaign co-chair. “They need people with experience who can hit the ground running day one, who doesn’t have to try to cultivate all those relationships.” Referring to Biden winning in 2020: “That in and of itself tell me people are looking for tested leadership.” Virginia overwhelmingly backed Biden during the 2020 primary, selecting him over liberal leaders like Sanders and Massachusetts Sen. Elizabeth Warren. And the state, which was once considered a battleground but has moved towards Democrats in recent years, would later back Biden over Trump by 10 percentage points in November. And McAuliffe is very close, both politically and personally, with the President. Comparisons to the 2020 presidential election, however, ignore the fact that Democrats were as motivated to vote against Trump as they were to vote for Biden. “That’s so simplistic, I don’t even know what to say,” said McClellan. “Biden won in large part because he was the candidate who had the most government experience and the most experience solving people’s problems. … I have more state government experience and public service experience addressing the needs of Virginia than all of my opponents combined, including Terry McAuliffe.” Foy was even more pointed, comparing McAuliffe’s candidacy to Hillary Clinton’s failed 2008 presidential run. “The comparison I hear about is Barack Obama and Hillary,” she said. “How you had people saying that there’s a person who is inevitable, who is a money machine, who has been around politics for a very long time and therefore everyone needs to make way.” The issue that these anti-McAuliffe candidates run into is space. People close to McAuliffe cheered when Carter entered the race, believing he will further box out candidates like Foy. And the longer the four challengers stay in, the harder it will be for either candidate to make up for their lack of statewide name recognition or consolidate the anti-McAuliffe support. “If you believed that was so important, wouldn’t you gather together and consolidate your vote?” asked Larry Sabato, the director of the University of Virginia Center for Politics. Sabato concluded that, along with Virginia Democrats’ desire to win, will help McAuliffe. “Because Democrats lost for so long in Virginia… Democrats still have a minority mentality even though they are in the majority and because of that, they do tend to make practical decision in primaries,” he said. “That may be the best thing McAuliffe has, other than incumbency and money, on his behalf.” CORRECTION: An earlier version of this story gave an incorrect first name for Glenn Youngkin. Source link Orbem News #Governor #McAuliffe #move #Opponents #Politics #Terry #TerryMcAuliffeviesforfourmoreyearsinachangedDemocraticenvironment-CNNPolitics #Time #Virginias

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dipulb3 · 3 years

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Terry McAuliffe wants to be Virginia's governor again. His opponents say it's time to move on.

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/terry-mcauliffe-wants-to-be-virginias-governor-again-his-opponents-say-its-time-to-move-on/

Terry McAuliffe wants to be Virginia's governor again. His opponents say it's time to move on.

The former governor of Virginia, four years removed from the end of his first term, is vying for another shot at leading the commonwealth, running as the closest thing to an incumbent in a place that bars governors from serving successive terms. McAuliffe enters the race as the clear frontrunner, buoyed by a significant fundraising advantage, a who’s who list of endorsements and near total name recognition.

But both Democratic politics and Virginia have changed since McAuliffe’s successful 2013 run, a shift exemplified by the Democratic legislature — which went blue in 2019 with McAuliffe’s help — moving to abolish the death penalty, tighten gun laws and reckon with the legacy of the Confederacy in a commonwealth closely tied to the Civil War South.

With less than three months until the Democratic gubernatorial primary, McAuliffe — who faced no primary challenge eight years ago — is now being pushed by younger, more liberal challengers to explain how a leader synonymous with the political establishment reflects the future of the commonwealth and not the politics of a bygone era.

The anti-McAuliffe charge ahead of the June 8 primary has been led by former Virginia delegate Jennifer Carroll Foy and Del. Lee Carter, two gubernatorial candidates who have been unabashedly critical of the former governor. Two other Democrats — state Sen. Jennifer McClellan and Lt. Gov. Justin Fairfax — haven’t been as pointed in their criticism of McAuliffe, but they have all echoed a similar message: McAuliffe’s time has passed.

“He was the right candidate for that moment. He was the right governor for that moment,” said McClellan, referring to McAuliffe’s 2013 bid, which she supported. “Times have changed. Virginia has changed.”

McAuliffe, a figure whose story in the Democratic Party is defined by millions of dollars raised, the Clintons and a tenure as chair of the Democratic National Committee, dismisses any suggestion he isn’t the future of the party. He points out that even after his time as governor, Virginia Democrats called on him to lead the effort that eventually won control of the Virginia General Assembly, giving the party full control of the state’s government for the first time in more than two decades.

“I don’t pay any attention to them,” he said of his opponents suggesting his time has come and gone. “I’m laying out my own plan on why I’m running.”

Any Democrat who wins the primary will be facing a Republican Party in turmoil, one where Virginia Republicans are searching for a standard bearer at a time when the national party is split between tying themselves to the vision of former President Donald Trump or breaking away from the failed 2020 candidate. A series of Republicans are laying the groundwork for a gubernatorial bid, including state Sen. Amanda Chase, businessman Pete Snyder, Del. Kirk Cox and businessman Glenn Youngkin.

McAuliffe has already flooded his Democratic opponents in three things: Money, policy and endorsements.

The prolific fundraiser fired a warning shot early in the campaign when he announced he had raised $6.1 million in 2020, a staggering number that dwarfed his opponents’ own efforts. And when he announced in December, his candidacy came along with a long list of endorsements, including a number of high-profile Democrats who serve with some of his primary challengers.

Since then, McAuliffe has rolled out policy after policy, aiming to both burnish his progressive credentials and argue that because Virginia is now in Democratic control, something the governor did not enjoy during his tenure, he will be able to get more done.

“I leaned in (as governor), but I had a Republican legislature. Now, with a Democratic legislature, all the big things that need to be fixed, we can get done,” he said. “Heck, I just warming up. You give me a Democratic legislature, there is no stopping me.”

‘The appetite for career politicians… is long gone’

McAuliffe’s desire to run for a second term as governor has long been one of the worst kept secrets in the commonwealth. The former chair of the DNC and Appradab political commentator relished the job, often joking about how his election — after Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson served as Virginia’s first and second governors — was a sign of American exceptionalism.

If McAuliffe were to win in November, however, he would do something neither Henry nor Jefferson ever did: Serve two four-year terms as the commonwealth’s chief executive. The Virginia constitution prohibits governors from serving two successive terms and very few Virginia politicians have done so. The last person to do it was Mills Godwin, a segregationist who won as a Democrat in 1966 and as a Republican in 1974.

McAuliffe argues that even though he feels like he accomplished everything he could as governor — “I don’t know if you could find (a regret). I mean, I worked like a dog,” he said — it just makes sense for him to reprise a role that is part Virginia’s chief executive, part commonwealth cheerleader.

Virginians “know I can get things done,” McAuliffe said. “I did it before and they all know with a Democratic legislature, boy, I feel bad for those other 49 states cause I’m telling you Virginia is going to lead the country.”

But his third run at governor (he tried and failed to win the party’s nomination in 2009) also means standing in the way of possible history: If either McClellan or Foy were to win, she would become both the first woman to lead Virginia and the first Black woman governor in US history.

The significance of making such history, especially in a state that once housed the Capitol of the South during the Civil War, is powerful to both women.

“I feel the weight of it because… to know what my family has gone through, the fights that my parents and my grandparents and my great grandparents had to fight, to know that I’m still fighting those fights and I need to keep my children from fighting those same fights, I feel the weight of that,” said McClellan, growing emotional as she described the potential for history. “I feel the weight of knowing I am running for a position in a system that was never built for me.”

To McAuliffe’s opponents, the reasoning for his candidacy is deeply flawed. And no candidate is more eager to go after McAuliffe than Foy, who resigned her assembly seat in December to focus on her gubernatorial run.

“I can’t allow Terry McAuliffe to run a status quo race, while he romanticizes his time as governor,” said Foy, who has argued her experience as one of the first women to every graduate from Virginia Military Institute and a mother of two who still struggles with child care and student loan debt is more representative of the commonwealth.

Foy has attacked McAuliffe on everything from donations he has taken to deals he made as governor to the fact he did little to address Confederate monuments. But her overarching criticism is that she represents Virginia’s most progressive future, while McAuliffe represents the past.

“The appetite for career politicians who have continued to maintain the status quo that has hurt so many Virginians is long gone,” she said in an interview.

But Foy is not alone in trying to run on McAuliffe’s left. Lee Carter, the self-proclaimed democratic socialist state delegate with deep ties to the Bernie Sanders network of supporters and liberal organizations, has begun to lambast the former governor as not progressive enough.

“I see him as the guy that got us here and that’s in very, very real ways,” Carter told Appradab, hammering McAuliffe for his support of pipelines through the state and economic policies that focused more on the rich than the poor. “We’ve spent the last eight years fighting against some of the worst things from McAuliffe’s time as governor.”

Neither McClellan nor Fairfax has been as direct in their criticism of McAuliffe as Foy and Carter, but their differences are primarily in tone, not substance.

“The voters decide what they are looking for in their candidates and in their visions for the future. But I do think it is very clear that people want their leaders to be focused on a vision for the future,” said Fairfax.

For Fairfax, opposing McAuliffe is personal. During a chaotic period in Virginia government, Fairfax was accused of sexual assault by two women in 2019. Both women still stand by their allegations.

Fairfax denied both accusations and continues to fight them to this day. He had filed a defamation suit against CBS, in which he alleged the network defamed him when, in 2019, it aired interviews with the two women. A judge dismissed the case last year, but Fairfax has appealed the decision, the Associated Press reported.

It is apparent that it still bothers the lieutenant governor and people close to him that McAuliffe, by then the former governor, had quickly called for him to step down due to the allegations.

Voters are “totally against the politics of the past and the traditional tactics of personal destruction that we have seen govern for too long,” Fairfax said, a not-so-subtle nod to McAuliffe.

‘People are looking for tested leadership’

McAuliffe supporters, when pressed on the attacks facing the former governor, will often compare him to another centrist Democrat who has found recent success: President Joe Biden.

“People are looking for tested leadership,” said Louise Lucas, the president pro tempore of the Virginia state Senate and a McAuliffe campaign co-chair. “They need people with experience who can hit the ground running day one, who doesn’t have to try to cultivate all those relationships.”

Referring to Biden winning in 2020: “That in and of itself tell me people are looking for tested leadership.”

Virginia overwhelmingly backed Biden during the 2020 primary, selecting him over liberal leaders like Sanders and Massachusetts Sen. Elizabeth Warren. And the state, which was once considered a battleground but has moved towards Democrats in recent years, would later back Biden over Trump by 10 percentage points in November. And McAuliffe is very close, both politically and personally, with the President.

Comparisons to the 2020 presidential election, however, ignore the fact that Democrats were as motivated to vote against Trump as they were to vote for Biden.

“That’s so simplistic, I don’t even know what to say,” said McClellan. “Biden won in large part because he was the candidate who had the most government experience and the most experience solving people’s problems. … I have more state government experience and public service experience addressing the needs of Virginia than all of my opponents combined, including Terry McAuliffe.”

Foy was even more pointed, comparing McAuliffe’s candidacy to Hillary Clinton’s failed 2008 presidential run.

“The comparison I hear about is Barack Obama and Hillary,” she said. “How you had people saying that there’s a person who is inevitable, who is a money machine, who has been around politics for a very long time and therefore everyone needs to make way.”

The issue that these anti-McAuliffe candidates run into is space. People close to McAuliffe cheered when Carter entered the race, believing he will further box out candidates like Foy. And the longer the four challengers stay in, the harder it will be for either candidate to make up for their lack of statewide name recognition or consolidate the anti-McAuliffe support.

“If you believed that was so important, wouldn’t you gather together and consolidate your vote?” asked Larry Sabato, the director of the University of Virginia Center for Politics.

Sabato concluded that, along with Virginia Democrats’ desire to win, will help McAuliffe.

“Because Democrats lost for so long in Virginia… Democrats still have a minority mentality even though they are in the majority and because of that, they do tend to make practical decision in primaries,” he said. “That may be the best thing McAuliffe has, other than incumbency and money, on his behalf.”

CORRECTION: An earlier version of this story gave an incorrect first name for Glenn Youngkin.

0 notes

gothic-chicanery · 7 years

Text

Two Towns, Both Alike in Dignity

Parts: 2/? 1

Pairing: Cecilos

Summary: The course of true love never did run smooth, and this is no exception. A radio host and a scientist, separated by the enmity of the towns they live in, fall in love. A Cecilos Romeo and Juliet AU.

Warnings: Some Strex creepiness

Dedication: To my friend WHO MADE ME FANART

Wordcount: 1722

Tags: @xaandiir @ass-gardiann @doodlethebarisax @heartsandhachets

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this and liked it and reblogged it, you guys are amazing! Also, welcome to some fun times with Strex Corp!

Lauren sat in the Strex Corp branded yellow office chair for her monthly evaluation and check in with the President of the company. Her posture, like everything else about her, was calculated to maximum efficiency. However, it held a peculiar stiffness. In fact, her whole body was tense, as though every bone, muscle, and nerve were screaming a terrified message that her altered mind could not hear.

The Smiling God was different every time they met. He, she, it, Lauren wasn’t sure, had no permanent form, at least not one that could speak, so it would inhabit a new body for each of their meetings. Today the form it had chosen...disconcerted her somewhat. The Smiling God had borrowed the body of a small girl, probably no more than 6 years old. Lauren had always hated children, and this girl looked too much like herself at that age for her to be entirely comfortable with the conversation. Come to think of it, the girl looked exactly like the photographs that she had seen of herself at that age.

“How are things progressing?” it asked in a high-pitched, girlish tone that held the familiar timbre of her own voice, further unnerving Lauren. She shuddered involuntarily at the sound and immediately cursed herself for the reaction. Why would she shudder? Strex Corp was a wonderful company that treated its employees like family! And the president was capable, forgiving, and an all-in-all amazing leader! She’d had nothing to complain about since she had joined the company. So then….why had she shuddered?

Lauren began to give her report, anxious that it had noticed the momentary lapse. “All going just as great as great can be!” she said, mustering as much enthusiasm as possible as she could. “Productivity is 110% as usual and business continues well. There have been minor altercations with the inhabitants of Night Vale, but our workforce has always come out the victor and come back with only minor injuries that don’t affect their efficiency. Some even reported that the boost of adrenaline helped increase their productivity!”

She bit back the words she had been about to say relating to those fights and a certain Voice of the company. It was...unprofessional for him to get into those petty battles. However, she knew that it would have no effect to include that in her report. Lauren would never accuse the Smiling God of favoritism, but it had always had a fondness for Kevin. Besides, even if he was summoned to a company meeting to talk about his behavior, Kevin would weasel his way out of it somehow. He could twist words and make them dance like marionettes to whatever tune pleased him, Lauren thought bitterly.

The Smiling God leaned forward, placing its childlike hands on the table that separated the two. Lauren noticed a birthmark on the borrowed child’s arm, a small red cloud that sparked a long suppressed memory. Didn’t she use to have a birthmark like that? A quick glance at her own arm showed nothing but smooth skin, but then again Strex had removed all imperfections when she had joined. “Very good Lauren,” it said, breaking her out of her thoughts once again, “You are truly an asset to this company. Is that all? No setbacks? Remember, there is no mistake that cannot be...corrected.”

Lauren nodded, remembering some times she had been corrected. “There is one...what shall we call it...an irregularity. No one’s fault, but just one of those things that happen sometimes.”

The Smiling God’s smile dropped for a moment and Lauren had to suppress every reflex in her body to avoid shuddering again. “Really,” it said, voice devoid of inflection, “What is this...irregularity as you call it?”

“Oh it's nothing serious,” Lauren assured it, “I remember telling you about a scientist who came here to study our town, saying something about how it was the most scientifically interesting place he had ever observed. I welcomed him into our town, as you advised me in our last meeting, but since then, he’s declined all our kind invitations to join the company, saying something about how he is already employed by his university. He has been encouraged to help us out with a few little projects, but he’s not part of our family yet, and he would be a valuable asset to our company.”

The Smiling God paused for a second, considering the situation. “There is a way. It is somewhat archaic, but business has always been about mixing the old with the new.”

“Yes?”

“Briefly, a marriage contract,” the Smiling God answered. “I propose we have a celebration, and let the scientist choose among the higher ups of the company. Use whatever influence you have to get him to agree. Kevin’s good with words, you can request for him to help you out. Strex Corp is a company that takes pride in tying up loose ends and I’m trusting you to get rid of this one. Besides, I haven’t been to a party in millennia.”

Lauren nodded, relishing the chance to make up for her earlier lapses. “You can count on me!”

“Wonderful. Now I must leave, this host is starting to fall apart, and I’d hate to deprive this company of such a valuable addition to its future workforce,” it said, examining the girl’s hand, which had begun to disintegrate and a blinding light was beginning to shine through. “Until next time, Lauren,” it said, before the unnatural light left the girl’s body and she collapsed to the floor.

Lauren took only a moment to calm her heartbeat, which had increased exponentially before turning around to face Daniel, the Strex supervisor, and turning him back on. She was the picture of efficiency, not a moment wasted, and the smile plastered on her face showed that she was happy to do her work. If the Smiling God was watching, and there was no doubt it was, then it would see nothing less than the very model of what a Strex Corp employee should be.

“Daniel, spread the news. We are going to have an office party, to officially welcome Carlos the Scientist to Desert Bluffs! Everyone invited is strongly encouraged to attend. And if you have time, could you head down into Night Vale and make sure our lovely Voice isn’t getting into anymore fights. I want to keep him in peak working condition.” Lauren looked at the girl, and the girl looked at her, tears falling from her mist grey eyes that matched Lauren’s own.

“Make sure she gets back where she belongs,” Lauren told Daniel, before getting back to her desk, and back to work.

In another town, another, later, time, Michelle was reluctantly fulfilling her promise to Leonard and visiting Cecil at his house. From the dust that had gathered on the furniture, Michelle guessed that her assumption made last night had been correct; the place didn’t look like anyone had been in it for weeks. She hoped Leonard didn’t expect her to tidy the place up, because there was no way that was going to happen. Mentally, she reviewed her plan of action, she would get Cecil out of the studio, attempt to give him a life, and if after that he crawled back into his radio cave and never came out again, that was not her problem.

Cecil was still asleep, so Michelle stood around awkwardly in the hall, listening to her music and feeling like a stalker. Unfortunately, it cannot be revealed what she was listening to, as then it would become too mainstream. After a little while, Cecil came out into the hallway, looking like a mess, though somewhat better for having had sleep.

“Did I miss my broadcast?” Cecil asked, attempting to run out the door before Michelle grabbed his arm.

“No, you didn’t, you’re fine,” Michelle reassured him, rolling her eyes. “Ok Cecil. Maureen hijacked a Strex robot which was really cool, and apparently there’s going to be some kind of party tomorrow or whatever. So anyway, we’re going to crash it, and you’re coming with us.”

Cecil looked back at her, briefly tempted by the offer, but then just shook his head. “Sorry Michelle, but I have too much to do. Radio is important. Community radio is important.”

Oh well, Michelle thought. She had tried. Then a thought hit her, something that might persuade Cecil. “It might be a good broadcast topic. The secret office parties of Desert Bluffs. Save it for a slow news day.”

Cecil paused and Michelle could see him turning over the offer in his mind. After some contemplation, he looked at her confused. “Why do you care what I do?”

Michelle shrugged. “Leonard told me to, I owed him a favor, so here I am.”

“Michelle, Leonard’s dead,” Cecil said.

She shrugged again. “Whatever. Just come to this party with Maureen and I, and then we can go back to our antisocial lives and never bother the other again. Besides, it’ll give you a good story to tell on the air.”

Cecil considered again. He was so tired, not much physically, he had slept well for the first time in months, but mentally. He was exhausted with the world and all that was in it. Days seemed to drag on for weeks, but the years slipped by like days. Friends and family had drifted away, or maybe he had; the distinction was irrelevant. All that mattered these days was the hour or so a day he spent speaking through a microphone, telling the citizens of Night Vale all the news they were allowed to hear. Going to a party was not part of that.

But yet, Cecil found himself tempted by the offer. He remembered days when he would do things like this, go to parties, talk to people face-to-face and not just through the radio. It was completely unprofessional to crash a party that he wasn’t invited to, much less one held by the Strex-owned town of Desert Bluffs. It was probably even illegal, given the way things were run there.

This all might have been the reason why Cecil found himself agreeing to meet Michelle and Maureen at 7:00 the following night. And, despite his earlier objections, Cecil began to feel more excited about tomorrow night’s adventures.

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #cecilos #cecil #carlos #kevin #lauren #strex corp #my trashcan romeo and juliet au returns #with lots of strex creepiness #and i figured out how to work read more this time #i hope

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deathbyvalentine · 4 years

Text

Silk and Steel

It had been a long road home. Ada had only been able to manage it due to the fact she possessed a fresh horse. She did not envy those who had to make it home in crowded carts, or worse, on foot. She found herself too thankful of the leather armour she wore. The men she passed in full plate were red-faced and exhausted. She smiled to think of her own image compared to theirs- hair slightly tousled, an elegant bruise sweeping one cheek. Even a battle was not enough to knock the vanity from her. Why should it? Ada found no virtue in modesty. Even so, by the second day of riding a little of her composure had started to slip. She was tired. The potions of energy and vigour second grade magicians hawked by the side of the road were almost tempting. When she passed the crest of the hill and finally sighted the city nestling in the valley, the river bisecting it neatly in half, she almost wept with joy. She nudged her grey into a canter verging on a gallop and followed the moot road signs direction.

You would not be able to guess there was a war happening by the state of the city. Sarvos continued on, as it always did. Yellow stone made up the buildings lining cobbled streets, every other one seeming to be cafe, gallery or theatre. It prided itself on its love of art, intelligence and culture, practically to the detriment of all else. If the war reached here, it had no defences. So it refused to entertain that possibility. The only acknowledgement there had been so far was the offer of a small purse to any person willing to go to the front and offer their services. Ada was never one to turn down any number of coins. She liked money too much. Having it, spending it, winning it. That and a somewhat inflated sense of her own martial ability had meant that the offer had seemed too good to resist.

She trotted through the streets, feeling herself relaxing with every step closer to her own home. Her slightly muddy garb attracted a little attention from the citizens bustling about their everyday lives. The streets here were as catwalks - a place to parade, to see or be seen. Nearly everyone wore a mask, though a few did boldly present their own faces. Ada in her muddy travelling clothes, knight’s mask and armour was not exactly part of the usual scenery. She couldn’t wait to be out of them, to be clean. War was a very messy business. She was unsure of how her brother stood it for such long periods - he was an officer. War was in his blood and breath, despite his rather comfortable upbringing. It was one of their only differences. In most things Ada and Tristan were identical. Hence why they managed to get under each other’s skin so much. No matter. He had stayed at the front, giving her a stack of letters to take home and the strictest orders of what to say to his various false-beloveds waiting at home. She had rolled her eyes and tutted, but consented. As both of them knew she would.

Her family house was on the west side of the river, overlooking the promenade. It was grand, with large windows that shimmered like fire in the setting sun and balconies one could lean out onto to better observe the comings and goings of neighbours. Ada took a moment to just take it in before dismounting, tying her horse to the railings outside. She had missed the place, despite herself. The house was not the problem. She slipped in the alley to take the servants' entrance. It may have been a few months since she’d last seen her mother but she was willing to bet her feelings towards mud on the carpets had not changed a jot.

She headed straight up the servants’ stairs to her room, taking them two at a time. It was unlikely her parents would be home at this hour. Her father was a civil servant, prone to working overtime. Her mother was a social butterfly and rarely arrived home until late at night, sleeping late to catch up on her beauty sleep. She had a few precious hours free of expectation, free of obligation. These were rare and to be cherished.

The door opened noiselessly into her bedroom. She slipped her shoes off, leaving them at the door and stepping into the thick, plush carpet. Everything was as she left it. Bottles of perfume littered her dresser, her desk still had half-written letters carefully stacked and sorted and her wardrobe (slightly ajar) was full of her dresses. Above her bureau mirror, masks hung on tiny nails, hundreds of them, almost covering the entire wall.She stood for a moment, breathing in the scent of delicacy and riches. Which meant it took her completely by surprise when Marie barrelled into her, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. “You’re back! And you didn’t come to find me, you beast - “ Ada managed to maneuver herself to face her, peppering kisses all over her face. “I didn’t want you to see me looking like such a mess.”

“What were you going to do? Let somebody else attend to you?” Marie cupped her face in gentle but calloused hands. “I was planning on attending myself.” This drew a snort from the maid. “Get your clothes off. I’ll draw you a bath.” Ada sat on the edge of her bed and began stripping the leather from her body. From the open bathroom door she could see Marie turning on the taps and scattering bathing salts in the water. Ada was rather convinced Marie had a little magic in her. Her baths were always far better than any other maid’s, to the point she would be a little petulant if her lady’s maid was ever occupied by other matters. She was rather attached, in more ways than one. She took off her underlayers and let them fall to the floor. Standing up, she inspected herself in the full mirror that sat grandly in the corner of her room. She couldn’t help but wince a little. Beneath her armour, out of sight, she was a little more battered than she’d like to admit. She took her mask off last, pulling the rough string free along with a few strands of her hair. As soon as she had, her shoulders slumped and the strong stance changed to an exhausted one. She was not a knight any more. She was a girl.

Marie called from the bathroom and Ada walked in, noting with a hint of delight how Marie’s eyes lingered on her body as she slipped into the bath. She would never get tired of being desired by the only person to see her as she was. Marie bustled for a moment, going back into the bedroom to fold clothes and send her armour to be cleaned. It gave her time to sink deep into the rose-scented water. Her aching muscles briefly complained then relaxed, with only the smallest whisper of protest. Her bruises were magnified under the water, looking even more cross and ugly. However, they were just superficial. The water was muddy, not bloody. She had escaped the worst of it.

Marie re-entered, her fussing satisfied. Now she just knelt near the bath, trailing her fingers in the hot water and gazing at Ada. Ada closed her eyes and just breathed. She was home. She was home and not dead and a pouch of gold richer. That was a win no matter how you looked at it. “Was it horrible?” Marie asked after a long beat. “Mm. It wasn’t… Well. War is never nice.”

“Did you see your brother?” “Oh yes. He was enjoying himself immensely. Shouting orders and pouring over maps and what not. I think he views it all as some grand game. But then, he rarely takes to the field personally.” “I suppose if you’re that far away from it all, it is a game. Shall I wash your hair?” Ada nodded and Marie pulled the pins from her hair, letting the chocolate tresses fall into the steaming water. Cupping a hand over Ada’s eyes, she filled a clay jug and poured it over her head, making sure there were no missed spots. Then soap, strawberry scented stuff that made it shine. Ada loved her hair, loved how long it was, how thick. Marie after years of working with it rather loved it too. Her fingers were careful as she massaged the soap in and she knew she was doing a good job when she heard the little sigh of contentment that came from her mistress. Bit by bit the tension seeped out of Ada. She spent almost an hour luxuriating, eyes closed, breathing deep. If Marie didn’t know her better, she’d think she was asleep.

But soon she stirred and Marie wrapped her in fluffy towels, steering her towards the bedroom. She sat as Marie rubbed her hair dry, humming an old song. Though she was languid, a little of the relaxation had disappeared. Her eyes were sharp. She never allowed herself

to respite for long. When Marie was done, she stood, going to her wardrobe and looking through the dresses. She abandoned them in favour of a dressing gown but did go to her dresser. She browsed for a moment then plucked a delicate filigree silver mask, tying it on with deft fingers. Her posture became predator- like, as alert as a cat.“And what have you learnt while I was away?”Maids had more than one use. In a town where everybody watched everybody, determined to clamber to the top of the social pile, it paid to be invisible. Nobody looked at the servants carrying bags or delivering messages or going shopping. It was almost a supernatural power. Ada (a lady in her right) did not possess the power of invisibility. Marie did and Ada paid her well for it. Marie rummaged in the pockets of her apron and retrieved a small, well worn notebook. She opened it and flipped through several pages until she found the correct one. The debrief would likely take all night. Marie did not relish the concept - she would rather be reacquainting herself with her mistress’s body. But Ada was not to be argued with in that mask and the sooner she started, the more likely it was they would have time for other, more enjoyable activities. Clearing her throat, she began.

#lesbians #wlw #f/f #empire #prose

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