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solynaceawrites · 4 years

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IDLE HANDS

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, fem!Reader Rating: Explicit A/N: This is my first foray in writing reader inserts in a long time, and it was fun to come back to this style! I want to give a huge thank you to @maybeishouldwait for encouraging me and helping me finish this one-shot, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

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You’re not quite sure how you’ve wound up here. Logically, of course, there’s a chain of events you can follow that starts with answering an advert in a newspaper to being at your physical location—the Devil May Cry, housed in a historic heritage building—but how that had led to your current predicament of having your boss’ hands fumbling with your skirt while your own try to untangle the layers of leather separating his skin from yours you couldn’t say. Not that you’re complaining; Dante Sparda is, perhaps, the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, and the greedy way he nips and tugs at your neck lets you know you’re in for a really good lay. If someone had ever told you that taking a job as a secretary-maid-bookkeeper for a handy-man shop would lead to this, you’d have laughed them off as reading too many raunchy paperbacks.

Or watching too many cheesy pornos.

Dante lifts his head, his piercing blue gaze like a physical touch on your face. There’s frustration within it, and his voice, but he’s grinning as he gripes, “Yer clothes are way too complicated, darlin’.”

You don’t think they are. Nothing you’re wearing is out of your usual limits: a simple button-down blouse, a black A-line skirt, tights, pumps with little kitten heels. Laughing softly, you reach to cover his hands with yours, guiding them to your hip, where a hidden zipper rests. “You just have to know where to look.”

“Uh-huh.” He tugs it down, and you shimmy the fabric over your thighs and kick it to the side. “Maybe I’ll make a new rule about ya workin’ here.”

“Oh?” Deciding to take mercy on him, you’re already halfway through the buttons of your shirt, and you pause to tilt your head, studying him curiously.

“No clothes.”

You roll your eyes with a smile. “I can’t work naked, Dante.”

“Sure you could.”

“If you want every potential customer who comes through to see my ass.”

He considers that, and you watch the gears churning behind his narrowed eyes and smother another chuckle, letting your shirt join the pile on the floor. “No underwear,” he counters, after a moment.

“Or,” you argue playfully, “you could learn to be patient. Besides, when you’re wearing something like that,” and you nod to the coat and chaps and spurs that you’ve spent twenty minutes fighting with, “you don’t get to say my clothes are complicated.”

“Fair enough,” he muses.

To your surprise and dismay, he steps back, but your protest dies when he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders. You watch with a dry mouth as he unfastens the holsters and drops them—Ebony and Ivory still sitting on the desk is probably the only reason he’s so callous about it—before doing the same with his vest. Each layer of clothing he peels away only sends your already heightened senses into overdrive; it feels scandalous, somehow, seeing the broad expanse of his chest with the dusting of silver hair, or the trim line of his waist, probably because you’ve never seen him in anything less than sans coat. Dante pauses to gauge your reaction as he unhooks the chaps from his belt, and you nod to let him know you’re still onboard with where this is going. The way he smiles then is bright and soft enough to soothe the worst part of your nerves, and you giggle when he hops from foot to foot while trying to take off his chaps, boots, and spurs in one go.

He straightens with a grin and his hands on his hips. “There,” he proclaims. “Better?”

“Much,” you agree. Then it’s a race to see who can get the rest of their clothes off first, and the only reason he wins, you think, is because he’s got less to worry about, particularly as he’s going commando, a fact that makes your mouth water. You do your best not to get distracted as you let your bra, panties, and tights add to the ever-growing pile of discarded clothing, but, Jesus Christ, his thighs are like tree trunks and the cock dangling between them is the largest you’ve ever seen. Is that even going to fit?

Dante moves closer, caging you between his bulk and the wall, and you let out a little gasp when his hands cup your chest. Then his mouth is on yours, and you part your lips for him as he kisses you greedily, drinking from your mouth like a man dying of thirst. Your fingers twist through his hair while his own squeeze your flesh, thumbs rolling over your nipples until they’re hard and you’re arching against him, craving more; he grunts when you give a particularly harsh tug to his locks before releasing your breasts to grab your waist. You lock your legs around his hips as he carries you to his desk, and you wince when he swipes his arm to clear a spot to set you down, sending a day old box of pizza and a magazine to the ground. “You sure about this?” he asks against your throat.

You swallow thickly, fighting through your nerves. Sleeping with your boss is probably not the best idea you’ve ever had, but there’s an air of reverence to Dante when it comes to you that makes you feel safe. “Yeah.”

“Good.” His mouth trails over your neck, pausing to lavish the skin of your collar until a mark blooms there, and the scratch of his stubble against your sensitive skin has you panting already. Dante gives each of your breasts a kiss before continuing down until he’s kneeling between your legs, and your thought of scolding him disappears with the first press of his lips to the top of your mound.

If there’s one talent you always suspected Dante had, it was oral. You’d never had a basis for this suspicion, other than the fact that he was always mouthing off to, well, everyone, but the moment he parts your folds with his thumbs to kiss your weeping sex, you know that you were right. He is relentless, alternating between tracing patterns over your clit with the tip of his tongue and moving lower to thrust it within you, and the groan he lets out as he tastes your body sends a blush from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes.

Reaching for his hair, you hold on tight as he works. It's been five years since you've had a mouth between your legs, too fixated on your boss to even try dating, but this is an entirely different level. He practically drinks from your body, humming against you encouragingly as you start to grind against him. Dante fixates where you guide him, and in the last thought before he sends you over the edge, you wonder if you've ever came so fast.

You pant as he eases up, slowly licking along your labia as he gently releases his grip on your thighs. Sagging on the desk, you press the back of your hand on your forehead and try to gain control of your racing heart. "You ready now, babe?" he asks.

"Ready for what?"

He grins at you, the expression equal parts eager and predatory and making your toes curl. "For me to fuck ya, obviously."

You blink, then let out a laugh as you wrap your still trembling legs around his waist. "I'd be upset if you didn't."

Dante nods, bracing one hand next to your head as the other works between your bodies; from how his knuckles graze your folds, you assume that he's stroking himself, and butterflies set to swirling in your stomach. Part of it is that he's your boss, sure, but the rest is the pre-sex jitters you always get with a new partner: will they enjoy it, will you enjoy it, is there going to be awkwardness between the two of you after or will the relationship continue on as it was? You reach up to drape an arm over his broad shoulders and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his cheek.

He turns his face to find your lips, brushing against them as you feel him press against your opening. Your mouth opens in a gasp as the head pushes inside. He is thick and hard as a rock, and as he works to fill you up it just keeps going. Your limbs shake as Dante pumps his hips slowly, the arm around him tensing as you dig your fingers into his shoulder

His cock hits a spot inside of you that sends a shock of pleasure through your body. As you throw your head back, his mouth moves to your neck, grazing your pulse. But he doesn't stop, just teases you with teeth and tongue as he stretches your body.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, it's just . . ." Your voice melts into a moan as he thrusts his hips and smacks against the back of your thighs.

"Okay," Dante pants, his mouth moving lower as he waits for you to adjust.

You're half-convinced that you're going to come the second he moves. You've never felt so full in your life, and every inch of him rubs snugly against your walls in a way that has your head spinning, and he hasn't even really gotten started yet. "Holy fuck," you whisper, staring over his shoulder at the ceiling. What have I gotten myself into?

"Mm," he groans, in agreement you think. "Remind me, why didn't we do this sooner?"

"You weren't wearing chaps," you mumble.

Dante laughs as he kisses the inside curve of your breast. "I'm wearing them every day, then."

He plants his palms face down on the desk and starts to pump his hips in a quick, shallow rhythm. It keeps his cock deep inside you, and for the next several minutes, the only sound is his panting and your quick, needy cries. Your fingers trace his chest and his arms until you can feel the next orgasm building. Dante thrusts hard into you, grinding his hips, and the friction of his body against your clit has you groaning his name.

He curses when you put your hands over your head, weak from the pleasure. "Fuck, fuck, you look so hot like this," he gasps, and that gives you an idea.

Keeping one hand curled over the edge of the desk, you quickly snake the other down to brush your fingers over your clit. He pauses, his eyes narrowed as he watches you draw little circles over the bud, and you wonder if you've somehow made a mistake before he growls. Dante grabs your thighs, pressing them up towards your chest, and the first thrust of his hips at this new angle draws a cry from your throat. "That's it," he rumbles. "You gonna come for me, darlin'?"

"Yes . . ." you moan. "Watch me."

His brows draw together as you do your best to put on a little show: it's difficult with his cock driving in and out of your body to stay focused on him, but as you start to stroke your clit with one hand and tease a nipple with the other, you can tell it's working because Dante gives a low groan. "Shit, come for me, I can't hold on . . ."

You close your eyes; it's a pity to lose the sight of his pleasure-screwed expression, but now you can focus on the press of his body and your own playful touch. Because you can't see him, you jolt when he mouths at your breast, panting hotly against your skin. Then he seals his lips around your nipple, sucking it with quick, sharp tugs, and your voice locks in your throat as your orgasm crashes over you.

Dante hisses your name through the haze of bliss. Moments later you feel him come, thick gushes of seed filling you as your release rocks through your body. You swear you can feel every pulse, almost as if his cock is rippling inside you. Your head is spinning from the intensity, but he doesn't stop. You reach up to grab his hair, shoulder, something . . . and gasp when his skin feels like heated metal and his fingers on your thighs go momentarily sharp, digging into you like claws.

It only lasts for a second, and his skin is soft and smooth and covered with stubble when you brush your fingers over his cheek. His hips slowly still, his lips whispering along her shoulder, until the two of you are simply locked together with his body a comfortable cage around your own. The way he nuzzles you is soothing and, on the heels of such an intense orgasm, makes you more than a little sleepy. But the question of what just happened pricks at you.

"Dante?"

"Hm?"

"Did you . . . transform? Just now?"

He clears his throat, a noise you know means he's flustered. "Almost." You nudge him with your knee to prompt him, and he groans and presses his face to your neck. "Part of being half-devil. Sometimes, if I get too wound up, I'll, uh . . . trigger."

"Oh." You consider that. "Okay."

"Does it scare you?"

If you weren't riding a post-coital high, the words you say next would have never left your mouth. "No. It's pretty hot, actually."

"Oh yeah?" His mouth captures yours for a slow, sloppy kiss, and when he pulls away he slides his cock out of you, leaving you sensitive as you stretch on the desk. "You ready for round two yet?" Dante grins.

You make a show of thinking, leaving your arms above your head and rubbing your thighs together, and you don't miss how his eyes darken as his gaze zeroes in on your chest. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"Me?!" Dante shouts, and you laugh as he lifts you and swings you over his shoulder. He carries you easily up the steps, giving your backside a smack as he teases, "Let's see who outlasts who."

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #dante/reader #dante x reader #dmc dante #smut #reader insert #writing #oneshot #idle hands

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daebakinc · 4 years

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Hero Among Thorns - Pt 5

Pairing: Hyunwoo x Reader Genre: Undercover Detective AU, Action, Romance Word Count: 2.5K Summary: When a mistaken connection results in your kidnapping by one of the city’s most notorious gangs, the undercover detective Hyunwoo has no choice but to rescue and protect you, and, most dangerously of all, fall in love with you. Warning: Mentions of violence and blood. Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4

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Even the most hobbit-like homebody has their limits. You really thought your tolerance for staying inside the apartment with no job and no bills to worry about would be high. You really did.

Hyunwoo stayed with you for a few days, then handed over the majority of his babysitting duty to a rotation of his team members, minus Minhyuk. He’s still avoiding you.

In contrast, the others have ensured you want for almost nothing. Kihyun and Hyungwon delivered what they could of your apartment, moving furniture and other items into a spare room at their shop. Those they couldn’t salvage, they replaced. Jooheon and Hoseok never seem to run out of stories of their team’s adventures and misadventures alike. Changkyun has procured a digital copy of any and every movie and television show you ask for to fill your days. When you asked if they were all legal, he’d only winked.

Despite your wheel of protectors, every night, Hyunwoo returns. Some nights, it’s so late he has to wake you up from the couch so you can go to bed. You do try to stay awake, but it doesn’t always work. As much as you like the other members of his team, it’s your time with Hyunwoo that you look forward to the most. If you spent time thinking about how much you anticipated his return, you might be embarrassed.

At first, you’d awkwardly moved around each other like two newly-assigned dance partners. Overly polite, careful of each other’s space. Eventually, you felt each other out and fell into a routine that fits the two of you. He makes dinner with your help or brings takeout, which the two of you eat while only talking to comment on some aspect of the food, sometimes followed by a movie that Hyunwoo usually sleeps through half of, before heading to your own bedrooms. Hyunwoo drops little details about his days that he spends away from you, but never too much. He tells you most of it is too boring to bother with.

That hurt a little at first, but you always remind yourself of your situation. You’re his charge, his witness. Not his girlfriend or confidant. You like to think you’re becoming friends at least. Never mind that you harbor the secret fantasy of becoming more.

Maybe that internal conflict helped contribute to the fact that it only takes two weeks before you get stir crazy. Two weeks, three days, and only God knows how many hours, minutes and seconds. You now catch yourself staring out the window, heart sour apple green with envy at the people walking down the street. Getting to do normal things like shop at whatever stores they please, feel the wind and sun whenever they want, see something other than the same gray walls and window view.

If you were in the basement of the apartment building, you’d be seriously considering pulling a Count of Monte Cristo and dig your way out with nothing more than a spoon. Or tie your bed-sheets together and rappel down the side of the building. Though both the crawling and rappelling would be hard with one arm out of commission…

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Hoseok’s voice startles you, but this time, you don’t fall off the window seat. For such a big man, he can move as quietly as a cat when he wants. Very, very slowly, you’re getting use to that.

“Can you rappel down a building with one arm?” you ask, not taking your eyes from the window.

“Technically, but I wouldn’t recommend it. One slip and you’re a pancake on the pavement if your rigging isn’t properly set up. And that’s if one arm can handle your whole body weight with gravity pulling on it,” he answers candidly. He sits on the opposite side of the window sill. “Why?”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” you sigh, “but I’m sick of this apartment. I want fresh air.”

“Open the window then.”

By now, you know when he’s teasing and sure enough, when you look at him, that smile is on his face. You push his foot off the sill with yours. “You know what I mean. I want outside. Isn’t keeping someone in a single space for an extended amount of time a form of torture?”

He gasps dramatically, a hand over his heart. “My presence is torture?” When he grins at your giggle, you know that was his whole point.

“You know what I mean. If I have to look at these same walls for any longer … I feel like I’m going to go crazy.”

“In my defense, I did try to convince Hyunwoo we should paint the place. Make it more homey. I suggested blue, but –”

“Hoseok.”

“I know. I don’t think I could do it myself,” he admits with a sigh. Solemnly, he adds, “We’re just trying to keep you safe. Yew has been quiet since your kidnapping. That could mean he’s decided his threat worked or he’s planning something worse.”

“I know. I appreciate it, but wouldn’t Yew think it’s weird that Hyunwoo’s not letting me go anywhere? Like even if I’m a kept-woman or baby-mama or whatever gangsters are supposed to have.”

“A kept-woman?” Hoseok bursts out laughing. He puts his foot back up. “How old are you, grandma? Who says that anymore?”

“You know what I mean. That’s why I added ‘baby-mama’,” Childishly, you stick out your tongue at him. “I’ve been on an old Hollywood binge lately.”

“Still,” he says, wiping the tears that had leaked from the corner of his eyes. “Look, you kind of have a point. I don’t think Yew is going to try to get to you again as long as he believes you’re with Hyunwoo and not a witness. I’ll can talk to Hyunwoo.”

“Really?”

Hoseok holds up his hands at your ecstatic expression. “I’m not promising anything. Like I said, keeping you alive is the biggest priority next to bringing Yew down. Hyunwoo is the ultimate authority in that regard. He makes the final decisions.”

“I’ll take anything, Hoseok. Even just a walk around the block or the roof.”

A few days later, Hyunwoo doesn’t leave directly after breakfast like usual. Instead, after he rinses your cereal bowls, he stays in the kitchen.

Glancing at your arm, he asks, “Would you like to go out?”

Go out? The water you were drinking rebels, shooting down your windpipe. You splutter and cough, trying to get a hold of yourself. That’s a little difficult with Hyunwoo pounding on your back a little too hard to be really helpful. Did he really say 'do you want to go out?’ With him?

Finally gaining control, your voice hoarse, you repeat his question, “Go out?”

Hyunwoo backs away, still eyeing you worriedly. “Yes. It’d just be to the shop and back, but Hoseok said you needed to get out of the apartment. Something about the Geneva Convention.”

“Yes!” Any regret at your misinterpretation is forgotten at the prospect of breathing new air and returning in some capacity to the outside world. You have an excuse to wear real clothes, see real people! “Hell yes!”

You jump out of the chair, tripping in your hurry to get dressed. Hyunwoo steps in, saving you from falling flat on your face. Naturally, your good arm hooks itself around his waist.

He’s so warm. And solid, too. And smells like heaven on steroids. Even better than those fuzzy memories of yours. You feel your own body heat in response to the contact.

God, when did you get this easy?

“Are you okay?” Hyunwoo asks.

His words break the spell and you realize he’s stiff against you. Damn it, he’s probably thinking he never signed up to have some wounded, touch-starved woman clinging to him like a stoned koala.

In an effort to lessen the awkwardness, you turn the accidental embrace into a hug, immediately releasing him. “Yeah! I’m just really excited about going outside!” Without waiting for a response, you run out of the room.

Shimmying out of your pajamas and into a skirt is easy. Then comes the shirt. Jooheon had let you start moving your shoulder a few days ago, but you still have to be careful. With one hand, you manage to wriggle out of your tank top. You chose a clean one, but not before casting a longing look at a shirt with sleeves. Your choice proves wise though. Even lifting your arm to slide it through the top’s armhole makes the healing muscles scream at the stretch. They continue to ache as you readjust the shirt, but you ignore them. The intoxication of freedom, no matter how limited, mutes the pain.

You run back into the living room. “Ready!”

Hyunwoo nods and grabs his car keys. He opens the door for you, but catches your arm as you move past him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?” you ask, puzzled. You may not have bothered with makeup, but you haven’t since you got here. Hyunwoo’s only seen it running down your face with tears.

“You’re sweating.” He points to your forehead.

You wipe at it, instinctively using your injured arm. The pain is instant. Hoping Hyunwoo didn’t notice your wince, you shrug it off. “Getting the shirt on was more work than I thought, I guess. I’m fine.”

He looks like he wants to say something. However, he doesn’t stop you again as you walk out. Hyunwoo takes the lead down the stairs after locking the door. As you follow him down the stairwell, he says, “We’re just going to the shop, staying a few hours, then coming back. Yew’s been too quiet for me to trust any side stops. When we’re outside, stay right beside me.”

“That’s fine,” you instantly reply.

You don’t meet another soul on the stairs and the lobby is similarly abandoned. It’s not surprising given the hour though. Those who work are long gone and just as far from returning home.

At the door, Hyunwoo pauses. You assume it’s to scan the street before exiting. Instead, he turns back to you. “Yew has at least one person watching this place. We want him to keep thinking you’re my girlfriend. That will keep you safe.”

“Okay.” You’re not quite sure where he’s going with this.

A hint of pink sprouts on Hyunwoo’s cheeks. He smiles, but it’s a different smile than you’ve seen before. It’s apologetic, with a hint of embarrassment.

“We’re going to need to make it believable. So, if you agree, I think we should engage in displays of physical affection.”

You can hear the echo of your jaw hitting the floor. “What?”

“Nothing you don’t consent to,” Hyunwoo rushes to reassure you. “All professional. Just physical touch on arms, waist, and hands.

“All that and no kissing?” you blurt out. Instant regret slams into you. “I mean, wouldn’t it be weird if we didn’t?”

Luckily, Hyunwoo laughs. He shifts his weight. “Yeah, I guess… Kisses on the head, forehead and cheeks should be okay. Right?”

Your eyes fall to Hyunwoo’s lips. You can’t help but feel robbed of the opportunity to kiss him there. Before you fell punch-drunk into your fantasies, you stop yourself. You need to look at this as some kind of weird, elaborate, dance-less ballet. Hyunwoo is your dance partner, not a boyfriend. This is a professional relationship, one your life actually depends on. You can’t fuck this up.

“Right,” you say.

“Good.” With one hand, Hyunwoo pushes open the glass door of the building. The other reaches out to you, palm open and ready.

With a fortifying breath, you take it.

That breath turns out to be about as useless as gulping for air in outer space without a helmet. As you step through the door, Hyunwoo pulls you into his side, his arm encircling your shoulder. From shoulder to hip, you’re glued against him.

You feel his lips graze against the top of your head. The touch is so light you almost think you imagined it. But then Hyunwoo whispers into your hair, “Ready?”

Heart thudding wildly, you look up at him. The smile on his face is full of affection. It’s so natural, you almost believe it yourself. You can only nod and smile, belatedly remembering you have a part to play too. Dazed, you let him guide you down the steps and down the sidewalk.

Hyunwoo stops halfway down the block. He keeps his arm around you like a shield the whole time. If the air hadn’t held a crispness, you would have definitely overheated. The chirp of a car unlocking and Hyunwoo easing away from you to open the door is enough to bring you back to reality. When you actually look at the car, you immediately wonder if you’re hallucinating.

Even to someone who isn’t a car enthusiast, the car breathes class. It lacks the bulk of most modern cars, instead celebrating sleekness from its slim, rectangular nose to mirror-image tail. Yet like its driver, you know beneath all that jet black metal is pure muscle. From the outside, the only hint of this is the silver head of a supercharger sitting on the hood.

The parallel is so perfect, you can’t help but laugh.

Hyunwoo backs away from you, startled.

“Dude, you’ve got to be kidding me. This is your car? This one?”

Hyunwoo looks at the car with its open door, then back to you. “Yes. Why?” he asks when you start laughing all over again.

“It’s a 1970 Dodge Charger R/T.”

Surprise is evident on Hyunwoo’s face. “Yeah. You know cars?”

“Not at all, but holy crap.” You slide into the front seat. Hyunwoo closes it behind you and circles the car to get in as well. “You don’t see why this is funny?”

“No. It’s a good car. Put your seat belt on.” He waits until you do so, then pulls away from the curb and into the street, but you can’t let it go.

“An undercover agent posing as the head of a mechanic shop that also deals with 'stolen’ cars and drives a black 1970 Dodge Charger R/T that’s been modified?” You watch his face, leaning forward so your seat belt presses into your chest. “Doesn’t sound familiar at all?”

Hyunwoo shakes his head.

“This is the exact model car driven by Vin Diesel as Dominic Toretto in The Fast and the Furious!”

“Never seen it.”

“Shut the damn front door. You’ve never seen The Fast and the Furious? Not one?”

“There’s more than one?”

At first, not a sound comes out of your mouth, too frozen in disbelief. You’re about to launch into a full geek rant when you notice a slight curve to the corner of Hyunwoo’s mouth. He’s not looking at you, his gaze purely on the road, but it’s there.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” you say slowly.

A smile fully cracks through, broken by a low laugh that fills the car. “Of course I have. Minhyuk was obsessed with them. He made the entire team watch all of them one night after we got this assignment. I did own this car before I watched them though. It’s a good car.”

“You made it through the entire series in one sitting?” You whistle appreciatively.

“I saw the first one, but after that, they’re fuzzy,” Hyunwoo confesses. “I fell asleep.”

“Can’t blame you.” You shrug. “They’re like 16 hours altogether.”

Your bodyguard-slash-roommate nods, making a small sound in agreement.

Quiet settles between you after that. Where once it would have been tense or clumsy for you, it feels right. Comfortable. You don’t feel any need to fill the empty space in between the street noise and the engine’s sleek purr. Instead, you lean back against the leather seat and watch Hyunwoo with slight side glances.

You’re learning to read Hyunwoo’s silences. Sometimes, they can be just as articulate as if he had spoken with words.

His shoulders are relaxed beneath his dark jean jacket and his hands hold the steering wheel with the easy confidence of someone who knows they can handle the horsepower. Despite the mellowness of his body, Hyunwoo’s eyes keep a careful watch on the passing streets. They flicker left to right, then straight, then back again. Car, bus, and pedestrian get a quick threat assessment before being dismissed. He’s not very worried about an attack, but he’s not being stupid about it either.

Hyunwoo turns his head to turn down a street, facing you for a brief second. You notice suddenly that mouthed lyrics flow steadily from his lips right in time with the radio. The song is some oldie, the singer belting about freedom and fast cars. You wonder what his singing voice sounds like…

Out of nowhere, Hyunwoo says, “You should thank Minhyuk.”

“Minhyuk? Why?” you ask cautiously. Based on your last and only parting, you’re doubtful he’d give you the few seconds saying 'thank you’ would take. He’s the very last of the team you’d expect to be your advocate.

“He’s the one who finally convinced me to let you come with us.”

“Not Hoseok?”

He shakes his head. “Minhyuk,” he says with finality.

“Why?”

“Ask him yourself.”

Hyunwoo turns onto the curb and honks the horn three times. You glance out the window. The building is plain, gray concrete, a number of cracks showing its age like fine wrinkles. There’s a line of windows high in the front wall, but no sign to speak off. Nothing other than the two long, dulled and dented silver garage doors to indicate this is anything other than a warehouse.

One of the doors slides open. Hyunwoo pulls inside, the door closing just behind the car’s tail.

He only has time to turn off the car and slide the key from the ignition when Minhyuk appears at his window.

“We’ve got a problem,” he says, glancing at you.

#shownu scenarios #monsta x scenarios #kwritersworldnet #kpopwritingnet #kwriterskollection #monsta x fanfics #shownu fanfics #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios

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spacebatisluvd · 4 years

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I wrote a sequel to “Autonomic Responses”, and it looks like it’s going to be an on-going series. Eventually, there’s probably going to be some actual smut, which I will not be posting here because this blog is (by and large) safe for work.

If it was just going to be a straight smut fic, I probably wouldn’t have mentioned it here at all, but as it is, it looks like nonsexual intimacy is going to be a huge element of the fic, as well as Entrapta trying to give her spacebat nice things even if he drags his feet the whole time. Okay, with that out of the way:

Summary: Entrapta provides a more compelling reason for her study.

Content warning: Light nudity. Self-esteem issues. Very mild bondage and dom/sub undertones. Chemical castration (that sounds super dark, but it’s a choice; it’s not being forced on anyone).

Hordak glanced over his shoulder at Kadroh and Entrapta. He was not jealous. At all. That was a useless emotion and he was above it.

He was just...irritated. He was trying to work, and Kadroh had come bounding in, shouting and giggling. Now, he was pulling off his shirt —Hordak was not jealous of the unblemished expanse of deep cobalt skin or his perfect physique, untouched by illness—and babbling in excitement as he modeled the various clothing items he’d picked up at the market. Entrapta oohed and awed over everything, admiring him as he preened and posed for her.

Hordak’s ears pressed flat, and he pretended to be preoccupied by his plans for rebuilding Salineas, but he’d read the same sentence at least three times without the slightest comprehension. He needed to leave them to themselves, if he wanted to make any progress, yet he remained, slowly growing more and more irritated with himself. They were entitled to their fun, and he should let them enjoy themselves without hovering.

Just as he finally convinced himself to leave and let them be happy without him around to spoil things, Kadroh finished his mock fashion show and bounded back out of the room, off to bother the chefs for tiny snacks. Hordak shook his head, his ears relaxing a little. Finally! Maybe now he could get some work done.

Except....

Entrapta now turned her attention on him. She was standing on her hair behind him, leaning close. He turned to look at her, feeling her breath on his ear. “Hordak, maybe we should go shopping for you sometime.”

“I have an adequate amount of clothing.” Shortly after arriving in Dryl, he’d commissioned a few dresses for himself. The cut was essentially the same as his old uniform, but now he bore Dryl’s sigil on his chest rather than the Horde sigil.

“Okay, but....” She pursed her mouth, trying to decide how best to explain. “Do these clothes make you feel good about yourself? Do you enjoy wearing them?”

He set down the tablet, lowering his ears as he looked at her. Mostly because he was confused. “They fulfill their purpose.”

She gave him a look he was coming to recognize—she was plotting something. He tensed a little. Entrapta seemed intent on subjecting him to new things and new experiences, insisting that they find things that he ‘enjoyed’.

For reasons unknown to him, she seemed to be collecting this information so that she could use it on him. He wasn’t complaining—it was nice when she brought him a mug of cocoa in the morning, or when she asked her chefs to prepare the little fruit tarts that he and Kadroh enjoyed so much. He trusted her implicitly, but he still found the experiences unnerving. More so because he couldn’t quite understand why she was so intent on collecting this information. He was already happier than he’d ever been, just being with her in Dryl. Wanting anything more seemed absurd. Unreasonable.

Kadroh, perhaps, deserved to be treated to such things, but Hordak?

Whatever he thought he deserved, though, he could tell by the look in her eye that they’d be going shopping soon, despite the feeble protests he might raise. She didn’t say anything about it, though, likely intent on planning more fully before submitting him to her plot. “Okay! As long as you’re comfortable,” she said casually.

He was not fooled. “I am. Comfortable. Very comfortable.”

Her smile was brilliant. “I’m glad! What are you working on?”

He released the breath he’d been holding. This was more familiar territory. He was more sure of himself, more confident. Turning back to the desk, he pressed his fingers to the surface, manipulating the screen so an enlarged view of the blueprints was visible. “Rebuilding Salineas. I was thinking about installing a desalination plant here.” He pointed and spread his fingers to focus on it. “With that and an irrigation system—“

“The inland villages wouldn’t be as susceptible to drought.”

“Exactly.”

“And with the tides....”

He nodded, a smug smile tugging at his mouth. “Yes; I believe we should be able to use that to generate energy. An electrical grid could revolutionize their way of life.” He lost his smug expression, leaning forward. His ears drew down and he folded his hands in front of him. “Of course, Mermista is skeptical of my intentions. Or my abilities. I’m not entirely sure which.”

She was very close now, nearly leaning on him so she could look over his shoulder. “She’ll come around. You just have to prove yourself to her.”

“Hmph. They tell me to make up for my wrongdoings by rebuilding what I helped destroy. Yet before I do, I must prove myself trustworthy. But in order to do that, I must help them rebuild. Their logic gives me a headache.”

“Yeah, I know.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair. It seemed like an absent-minded gesture, but his whole being fixated on the feeling. “I had to prove myself when I rejoined the alliance too. It was hard, at first.” He shut his eyes, trying to pay attention to her words, but it was hard with her hand in his hair, scritching lightly at his scalp. “But they’re really nice once you get to know them.”

His ears started to droop, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about Salineas or the princess alliance anymore. His heart rate slowed and he allowed Entrapta to lift his chin. I t was only when he opened his eyes to see her studying him through her welding mask that he started to come back to himself. “Hmmm. Your hair isn’t cresting. Am I doing this right?”

He shook his head, trying to shrug off his strange placidity. “Are you experimenting on me again?”

“Maybe.” She lifted the mask. “Is that okay?”

“I am surprised you’d find me interesting enough to experiment with.”

“Hordak, you’re an alien! A bionic alien! Why wouldn’t I be interested?”

He glanced at the door. “Kadroh would be a better subject. He doesn’t have my defects. He would provide you with more accurate information on my species. Any data you collect from me would be flawed.��

“But you’re my lab partner! I don’t want to experiment like this with anyone else. Just you.”

He blinked, ears twitching. “I...see.”

“Do you?” He hesitated, not sure how to answer that. Her hands cupped his face, holding him steady as she looked down at him. His head was still tilted back, and she stood behind him, her features upside-down in his view. “Hordak, have you thought about continuing our exploration of your autonomic responses to tactile stimulation?”

He swallowed, and a rope of her hair curled loosely around his throat. Not a threat. Never that. But it made him more conscious of his pulse-points, his rising heartbeat. “I have. But.” Having her so close was suddenly overwhelming. He pushed the rope of hair away and stood, walking toward the window so he could at least pretend to look outside. He clasped his hands behind his back, legs flexing as he tried not to rock on his toes. “I synthesized the hormone cocktail that Prime used to keep his clones from becoming...distracted. I’ve been taking it.” One hand clenched tight around his other wrist.

“Oh! Is that why your hair isn’t reacting?”

He glanced over his shoulder, looking her over. Her gaze was intent, but her hair was wrapped around anything close at hand—the chair, the table leg, her own arms. She was holding herself back to give him the space he needed. Something inside him unclenched, and he turned from the window to face her fully. “Indeed. So I’m not sure that any further experiments would provide you with any useful data. As I said, Kadroh would be a much better subject for you.”

Her hair tightened. “Can I show you something?”

He cocked his head. “I’m not sure why you feel the need to ask. I am always interested in whatever—“ One rope of hair wrapped around his wrist and tugged him from the room. She was not quite running, but her pace was urgent and he had to walk briskly to keep up. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private.”

With that, she pulled open a door and pushed him inside, shutting it behind her. A thread of hair locked the door as she walked past him, hopping on one foot as she tried to take her work boots off. Before he could offer assistance, she lifted herself on her hair and curled her legs up to her hands so she could get her boots off. She tossed them aside, swiftly followed by her socks. Only when she unclasped her overalls did he start to become alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you my defects.”

The top of her overalls fell to her waist and she immediately started to shimmy out of them. He watched for a moment, baffled. “You do not have—“

“Hordak, I’m not perfect. Neither are you. Neither is Kadroh or anyone else. And it’s okay!” She dropped her overalls and tugged off her shirt as her hair deposited her safely on the ground. “Look—“ She stood before him in her underwear, arms and legs star-fished to showcase her whole body. “I am short.”

“Your stature is—“

A rope of hair pressed to his mouth, silencing him. “Hush. As I was saying; my body-type is ‘unfashionable’.” Her eyes lowered for just a moment. One hand pressed to her stomach, pinching the place that pouched out with subcutaneous fat. His shoulders tensed and he strode forward, not liking the way she did that at all, but her hair dropped to his chest, pushing him back. “And look—“ she held her arms out in front of her, showing him the shiny scar tissue that covered her arms and much of her hands. “I have scarring on my arms and hands. They aren’t even cool scars, either—I just burned myself in a lab accident.” She laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “Just smart enough to get myself into trouble, right?”

“Entrapta—“

“Do you think less of me for my defects?”

“Those are not defects! Your body is performing as intended!”

“Imperfections, then. Do you think less of me?”

“That’s absurd! Why would I?”

“Good! And you know I don’t think less of you for yours.” He flinched and looked away, ears drooping a little. He did know that. “So stop trying to push me off on Kadroh. I don’t want to see his autonomic responses. I was to see yours.”

“I was not pushing you off—“ She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look. He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back, looking at the floor. “It is difficult to understand why you would choose me when there are other—“ He swallowed down the word ‘better’, knowing she would not appreciate the adjective. “—options available.”

“You listen to me when I talk. You understand me. And I like to think that I understand you too.”

His chest swelled. “I have had the depths of my mind plumbed, and yet you understand me better than anyone.”

She smiled broadly, her cheeks pink. “You say things like that. And you mean them.”

“Why would I speak falsely?”

She swallowed and looked away, grabbing a lock of hair and combing her fingers through it. She started to pace, but she seemed to shake herself free of whatever thought had gripped her. She smiled at him again. “I don’t know. People do, though. Lie.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Someone hurt you.”

She seemed to shrug it off, though her hands were still wrapped in her hair. “Everyone gets hurt. Right? I mean...we’ve both hurt people. A lot of people. It happens. Everyone does it. Everyone experiences it at one time or another. It’s all just a matter of degree.” Her gaze went distance. “I wonder if there’s a system of measurement for that....”

He came closer, lifting a hand to offer some comfort. He stopped before he could make contact. “May I touch you?”

“That’s another thing!” she exclaimed, spinning suddenly as her hair took hold of him. She walked him backward, toward the wall, pinning him there. “You understand that I can’t always....” One hand fumbled, as if she could pluck the word she wanted from the air. “Be touched.”

Her hair was wrapped around his upper arms, holding him securely but not tightly. He swallowed, looking down on her. It was not fear that set his hearts hammering and caused something low in his abdomen to tighten. It was something else. Something new.

She raised herself up on her hair so they were at eye level. “Do you see now? Why I want you and not someone else?”

“No. But—!” He swallowed, trying to speak before she could pull away, despite the lump in his throat. “I’m grateful. I may not understand why, but I am glad that you feel for me the same way I feel for you.”

She smiled. “Good.” She reached for his hair, running her fingers through it. “How’s that feel?”

He shut his eyes, pressing into her hand. It was different, now. Somehow, having his hands bound while she pet him was thrilling rather than relaxing. He could feel his scalp prickling, though his hair remained flat. “It’s. Good. Not as overwhelming as it was before.”

“Interesting.” Her hands traced down his scalp until she reached his ears. “Have I ever told you how cute your ears are?”

His ears flexed and his eyes opened wide. “No, you—!” He sputtered. “They are not!”

“No?” she asked, smiling as she ran a thumb over the edge of each ear.

“No.”

“If you say so,” she said in a sing-song. He huffed, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “This is cute too.” She brushed a thumb over his cheek.

“I am not cute!”

“Being a subjective term, I don’t think you get to decide what I do or do not find to be ‘cute’.”

He huffed, unable to refute that. Victorious, she smiled, her hands dropping to his jaw before trailing down his neck to rest on his chest. He wondered if she could feel his hearts beating under her hand. “Can I continue?”

“With what?”

“Exploring your reactions to tactile stimulation.”

His ears flattened. “With the hormones I’m taking, I doubt my reactions will prove titillating.”

“I’m not looking to be titillated. I’m interested in seeing what kind of touches you enjoy. What feels good to you. What you like. It doesn’t have to be sexual to be enjoyable.”

His cheeks were only getting hotter. He swallowed. “I see.”

“Besides,” she added, looking him over, “I would like a basis of comparison, should you ever choose to stop taking them.”

A soft noise escaped him. It definitely didn’t sound anything like a whimper. “Oh.”

“May I proceed?”

His hearts were beating hard, and something inside him squirmed. It was not shame he felt. Not fear. Something adjacent, without the sting of either. Anticipation, perhaps, though it was sharper than that. More intense. He flexed his arms, feeling the strength of her hold on him, and the anticipation peaked.

“Yes.” He swallowed, wondering what he was getting himself into. “Please proceed.”

#entrapdak #hordak #entrapta #wrong hordak #my writing #link #have to use the desktop to make the readmore work #such a pain #but i wasn't comfortable leaving this out in the open on everybody's dash #it needed a readmore

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sestra-inestro · 5 years

Text

The Carry On - (1/5)

Pairings: mob!bucky x fem!reader

A/N: This is the series that is inspired by the oneshot I wrote like two weeks ago. This took me forever and is gonna be the long, crappy, filler part of the series but the rest with be much better and I wrote part two first because I’m a doof. I’ve also been in a film noir, gangster/Tarantino mood so als inspired by them. Alrighty enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of smut, no actual smut because I’m a TEASE, mentions of torture and violence.

The Carry On - mini series part one.

You sighed as you picked at the sleeve of your shirt. Waiting for Bucky was taking forever and he was already late. You were supposed to be picking out the invitations to your wedding today, before you met him for dinner. You had done most of the planning yourself considering his demanding work arrangements, which wasn’t his fault entirely. But being one of the city’s biggest Mob Bosses, half of the blame lands on him because he causes half the trouble. This was supposed to be one of the few things you’d choose together.

Looking at your phone again, you sigh before getting up.

“Leaving?” The woman at the counter asks. She’s been watching you wait for your fiancé for the last 40 minutes.

“Yep.” You approach the counter and look down at the many examples she had laid out before. Your eyes scanned over them before pointing to a grey background with white patterns in the corners. “That one.”

She nodded her head before collecting the rest of the examples. “We will have ready as soon as we can, Ms June.”

You huffed before turning to the door. “Take your time.” You called back before leaving the store.

Sam, who was assigned to be by your side whenever you went out, noticed you leave and pushed off the wall he was leaning on and ran after you.

“June!” He called out, catching up to you. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yep.” You said without care.

“But Bucky said he’d leave soon.” Sam raised his eyebrow, looking at his phone.

“Then you can tell him I’m going home now and I’ll meet him at dinner.” You informed him. “Or I can tell him myself. I’m done waiting.”

“No I’ll tell him.” Sam assures you before typing away at his phone.

You continued to walk down the small street of stores to the car as Sam received a message back from Bucky.

“He’s not happy.” Sam told you.

“I’ll deal with him.” You said before you reached the car.

Sam moves in front of you to open the door for you.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Sam smirked at you as you stepped into the car. As Sam shut the door and walked around to the drivers seat, your phone pinged with a message from Bucky.

B: Sorry baby doll

You rolled your eyes, sighed and shoved your phone in your bag. This has happened many times already, someone had him caught up at the office or the warehouse. You didn’t mind him working, you just wished he’d stop making promises he couldn’t keep.

Bucky stared at the message he sent, hoping you’d reply. He knows he messed up by missing another part of the wedding planning. Really he didn’t care if he had a say in the wedding planning at all. He wanted to see what you created, see you happy with things you liked surrounding you, in the prettiest dress you picked. He didn’t care if you even had a wedding at all, all he wanted was you to be his wife.

He proposed fairly early into your relationship, because he immediately knew that you were the one. You turned a blind eye to his malicious work ways and his alliances, the amount of men that come and go through the house. You’d said you always loved some company, even with just the house staff. You felt safer knowing you weren’t alone.

He also loved the way you shuddered underneath him and the way you circled your hips on top of him when he brought you release again and again.

A pained groan brought Bucky out of his mind.

“C’mon, Zemo.” Bucky sighed in frustration and shoved his phone in his pant pocket and turned to the man tied up in the chair. “Haven’t we gone at this long enough? I have a date with my future wife.”

Zemo huffed, his head that hung low bounced as he coughed out the blood that had pooled in his mouth from the punches Steve had landed in his face. Steve stood behind him wiping the blood from his knuckles.

“The days are long.” Zemo croaked out. “How many punches you got in you?”

Steve threw down the paper towel and gripped Zemo’s hair, yanking his head back by his scalp. “How many do you think you can take?” He growled in Zemo’s face.

“As many as you can give.” Zemo spat, some blood landing in Steve’s face.

Steve flinched and closed his eyes. Bucky watched as Steve slowly stood and wiped a hand down his face. Steve moves to punch Zemo in the face again but Bucky grabbed his arms.

“Woah, there buddy.” He pulled the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and handed it to Steve. “Take a break.”

Steve scoffed, snatching the handkerchief from Bucky and walking away.

“Now you’ve pissed my friend off.” Bucky leaned down to look Zemo in the eye. “Which is why I’m giving you one more chance.” Bucky raised a finger. “Now I’m not gonna pluck out any of you teeth or anything because we’ve been here way too long now. You just need to tell me the names of the people who robbed my cartel tell last week, or you stay here to sleep in the cold winters night of this nice, lovely, metal scaffolding warehouse of mine, where you’ll probably freeze to death.”

Zemo glared at Bucky’s face. His mouth clamped shut.

To his silence, Bucky clicked his tongue and shook his head. Turning on the balls of his feet, he gestured to Steve that they were done.

“Sleep tight, Zemo.” Bucky said carefree as he waltz towards the door. “Oh. And feel free to scream for help. Nobody can hear you.” Bucky winked at the tied man before stepped out and sliding the massive door shut.

Steve stood next to him and locked the warehouse door.

“That bastard.” Steve muttered.

“You know, maybe you should stick to be the good guy, bad guy Steve kinda scares me.” Bucky said to his best friend as they walked towards their cars.

“Yep, you go back to being bad guy.” Steve loosens his tie and wipes a hand over his face. “They all just spit on me.”

As they approached the cars, some of their men stepped out with guns and full uniform.

“I knew you were never gonna let him sit here by himself.” Steve chuckled as he watch Bucky’s men take point around the left side of the warehouse.

“Fuck no.” Bucky huffed, crossing his arms and he watched Steves men take point of the right side of the warehouse. “I’ll also knew you would never, either.”

Steve nodded, and smirked. He also crossed his arms and watched. “I also have men in the grass around this area.”

“Nice.” Bucky tapped him on the shoulder.

They had been best friends since childhood and nothing stopped them from becoming the kings of the city’s together. Their own businesses, own men and a shared alliance with Tony Stark, Thor Odinson and his half brother Loki who he shares a business with and T’Challa. They keep the peace with each other and work together with the others to try to keep business between them private. But recently, all five businesses men have had their cartel movements infiltrated and had finally caught one of the men involved with it. They also have suspect that an old partner of Tony’s, Brock Rumlow is involved too but they haven’t been able to catch him.

Bucky sighed before checking his watch. “Shit.” He hisses. “I have to get ready to pick up my lady.” Bucky stated as he walked around the car.

Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of you.

“Oh yeah, can’t forget about her.” He said dryly.

“Oh stop. I didn’t pick on you when you married Peggy.” Bucky eyed his friend.

“Yeah, because we had known Peggy for years.” Steve defended his wife.

“And you love her, right?” Bucky asked opening his car door.

Steve have him a ‘duh’ look.

“Well I’m in love with June, Stevie. I can’t help it.” Bucky said, sitting in the driver seat and turning on the engine, rolling down the windows to see Steve bending down to look at him with his brow raised.

“You barely know her.” Steve said with a dull tone.

“I’ve actually gotten to know her very. Inside and out.” Bucky winked at Steve.

Steve groaned in disgust. “Get out of here you maniac.”

“Bon voyage, my friend.” Bucky waved before driving off.

You had just finished putting on your dress, with the help of Rita, Bucky’s longtime General housemaid. After you shimmied into a body suit to tighten your body under your dress, she helped you climb into a classy form fitting black dress and fix up your make-up.

When you finished getting all your stuff together, Rita informed you that Bucky was here.

You trudged your way out of the bedroom and stopped at the top of the stairs, seeing Bucky looking up at you from the living room with wild flowers in his hand. You, still vaguely annoyed at him, gave him a look with a hand on your hip.

Bucky smiled sheepishly. “You’re beautiful.”

“Uh huh.” You responded.

“I’m a lucky man.” He tried again.

��I’m sure.”

Bucky sighed at your short answers to him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Bucky looked up at you with puppy eyes. “I really wanted to be there but I got caught up. We got closer to the people who have been stealing our shit and this guy just would not give up and...” He trailed off as you have him an unimpressed look.

“Babe, it was just the invitations.” He tried to reason. “I can help you pick out the cake?”

“I did that last week.” You said, finally giving it to him. “And it’s not about the invitations Buck, it’s the fact that you promised me that you would be there. That maybe this was something that we could do together besides actually getting married. Or will I have to do that by myself too?”

“Of course not, baby doll.” Bucky’s eyes were now sad. He didn’t realise how much you wanted his input on this wedding.

As you saw his eyes, you felt a little pang if guilt in your chest. He does work hard to keep you safe in the house and he does pay for everything. He doesn’t treat you bad or insult you. And when he is home, you’re like his goddess.

You huffed before stomping down the steps towards him. He watched as the annoyed scowl on your face twisted into one of confliction. You walked up to him and looked him in his gorgeous baby blue eyes.

He offered you the wild flowers, giving you the biggest set of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I don’t want to be a brat.” You said, taking the flowers.

“You’re not babe. You’re right.” He rubbed your arms. “I keep making promises I can’t keep. I knew I wasn’t going to make it.”

“Sam said you were gonna be pissed when I left.” You looked at your feet.

“Yeah at myself.” He put a finger under your chin and gently lifted your face to look at him. “I’m sorry baby.”

He pouted before leaning in slowly and capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

“I’m still annoyed.” You said after pulling away. “No matter how guilty I feel, I can still be annoyed at you.” You pointed at him with the flowers before moving to the kitchen to put the flowers in water.

Bucky smirked as he watched you. “That’s why I brought you something else.”

You pushed open the kitchen door to see a little, grey Staffordshire Bull Terrier puppy sitting patiently on the floor, it’s tail wagging at the sight of a human.

You froze and gasped. The little puppy dropped its head and shuffled its way towards your feet.

Carefully you bent down and the puppy crawled into your hands and you lifted it to your chest. You turned back to Bucky who had a hopeful smile on his face.

“Oh my gosh.” You said with wife eyes and the puppy nuzzled under your chin.

“Do you like him?” Bucky asked with his hands behind his back.

“I love him.” You kissed the puppy on the head, earning little licks in return.

“I thought he would ease your your hostility against me for a little while.” Bucky joked and you frowned at him.

“You can’t buy me a puppy every time you annoy me.” You said and scratched the puppy behind the ear.

“Of course not.” Bucky chuckled. “We’d have a full house.”

You smooched the puppy as Bucky stepped forward.

“Am I forgiven?” He gives you the puppy eyes again.

“Hmm.” You pretend to think. “Sure.” You give him a smile.

Bucky’s face brightens and he leans forward to capture your lips again.

After finally trusting Rita to look after the puppy and separating you from him, Bucky drove you to a quiet area of town and led you to an empty restaurant.

You frowned as you got out of the car. “This is dinner?”

“Yep.” Bucky smiled brightly.

The restaurant looked extremely fancy, and even with your dress and heels, you felt under-dressed.

“There’s no one in there.” You said, taking his arm as he offered it to you.

“I know. I booked the entire night to ourselves.” Bucky grasped your hand and kissed your fingers. “We have nothing but time.”

Bucky opened the door for you to reveal a dimly lit dining room, a massive fish tank lining the wall filled with different types of gold fish, and only one table with two chairs. Faux plants lined the walls and the windows to the restaurant, giving it a homey feel and the air was warm. But you still felt the tiniest bit intimidated.

As soon as you say down, waiters placed a covered dish in front of you, shocking you.

Bucky smirked at your face, confused by the silver cover of the plate.

“I ordered your favourite.” Bucky winked.

You scoffed. “I doubt this place does cheese burgers with extra cheese.” You laughed and placed a napkin on your lap.

Bucky winked again before taking off the cover and making you laugh. Seated on your plate was a neatly made In N Out burger and fries.

“I thought you’d appreciate this more than what this place normally makes.” Bucky’s eyes watched you as you smiled down at your food. “And I hope the Double Double counts as extra cheese.”

You looked at him ridiculously. “Um, no.” You held up a finger, ready to educate him. “It has two slices of cheese with two patties. It’s evened, not extra.”

“Alright, alright.” Bucky laughed and held his hands in surrender. “Enjoy your food.”

You pushed back the sleeves of your dress and your hair out of your face while muttering. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Bucky admired the way you visibly relaxed. He was going to take you to the formal dinner that Tony was hosting to discuss the recent events in business. But considering so much he has missed with you, he decided to take you somewhere where just you and him could enjoy yourselves.

You ate your food and enjoyed discussing some of the recent decisions you’d made about the wedding. He approved of every single decision.

“So,” You started after finishing off the burger and picking up a fry. “What’s new in the business?”

Bucky smiled at your interest.

“Well, we caught a guy that had been invading our private sales.” Bucky spoke in code, incase of any rats hanging around.

“You give them a good talking to?” You asked.

“Real good talking to.” Bucky wipes his mouth talking to you more. “We got some new information from Natasha. She just came back from her honeymoon.”

Natasha Romanoff was Tony’s own little mole that had been placed undercover as Natalie Rushman inside the gang of Hydra about a year before you met Bucky. She was feeding them as much information as she could while also playing the newest, youngest and most loveable wife of Alexander Pierce.

“Oh how nice.” You smiled. You’d met Natasha before and she was gorgeous.

“It might be another year before she can come back and work for us.”

“That’s good.” You say before munching on your last fry.

“God, I love you.” He mumbled under his breath. There was no way you could be real.

“What’s that baby?” You raised a brow as you heard him mumble.

“I said I can’t wait to marry you.” He told you, watching your eyes fill with love before you launched at him, attaching to his lips in a passionate attack.

3 months later, the wedding reception.

The reception was in full swing. You had a slightly non-traditional wedding. No one heard your vows except you and Bucky, then you joined your friends for the reception. You had finally met T’Challa and his right hand woman Okoye. As well as Steve’s wife Peggy and Tony’s wife Pepper. A bunch of your family had turned up and some friends. Once you and Bucky had your first dance, you changed into something much more moveable so you could enjoy the wedding comfortably.

You were browsing through the snack table when a voice boomed behind you.

“Mrs Barnes.” The deep voice said.

You turned to see a handsomely long blonde man with blue eyes, smiling bright at you with his hand out to you.

You reached and accepted it.

“Thor Odinson.” He introduces himself.

Your face lit up in realisation. “Oh, Mr Odinson. Nice to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, M’lady.” He said charmingly. “I hear you use to be a Vet Nurse.”

You nodded. “Yes, in fact that how I met Bucky.”

“Oh really?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, him and Tony came stumbling into the clinic I was working at chasing someone.” You explained, remembering that moment you first laid eyes on Bucky.

“Wow. I do love animals myself, though I never could have become a vet myself.” He smiled to himself. “I get too attached.”

“I love them too. I always wanted to work with animals. Just didn’t think it would end so soon.” In truth, you missed being surrounded by animals and meeting new ones.

“June.” Bucky’s voice interrupted. “Mind if I steal my wife back, Odinson?” He stepped to you and wrapped an arm around your waste.

Thor smiles at his ally before raising his hands in a playfull surrender. “She’s all yours.” Thor winked at you. “Nice to meet you, June.”

“You too.” You wave him off.

Bucky looks down at you, gosh he looked so good in his suit.

“What?” You giggled at him.

“You’re just so beautiful.” He rubbed his nose against yours.

You reach up gently and wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him down softly to meet you lips. You couldn’t get enough of kissing him today. He was finally your husband and you couldn’t wait to love him with all of your body.

You deepened the kiss by turning your head, your tongue massaging itself against his and you other arm gripping onto his shoulder. He pulls your body against him, pressing your chest against his and feeling the strength of his heart beat. His hands gripped you in such a delicious way that you wanted to melt in his embrace.

You pulled away for air and Bucky leant his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

“Are you ready?” He asked, breath fanning against your face.

You look around to see that some guests had gone and it was now a relaxed mood, not that you cared. You just wanted to be with him.

“Yes.” Your voice came out on almost a beg.

“Alright.” Bucky pressed another soft kiss to your lips before pulling you with him to the small stage where a lone microphone stood.

“Hello, everyone.” Bucky pulled the attention of the rest of the people in the room. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate this beautiful woman and me. But now it is time we part.” Bucky smirked to the crowd. “We have to start our honeymoon.” You and Bucky then ran out of the venue, giggling like children and into the car on the way to the hotel you’d spend the night at. Making out and touch in the car, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on each other. As soon as the car stopped, you and Buck leapt out and into the building. Bucky fumbled with the room key while you kissed his neck, purring in his ear and gripping him any where you could get a hand full.

As he finally got it open, he pulled you inside and slammed you against the door as it shut. He attacked your neck and moved his hands to take off your outfit. His hands were rushed and he couldn’t wait to feel your skin. Getting frustrated with the fabric, he ripping it at the sides causing you to gasp.

“You only needed it for one night anyway.” He mumbled as he immediately latched onto your nipple, one hand gripping the skin on your hip and the other kneading your other breast.

Your head rested against the door with your eyes closed, enjoying his lips on you. Warmth grew in your core, wetness slicking up your folds as Bucky made his way down your body. He massaged your skin as his kisses trail down to your navel.

“I want to feel every inch of you.” He mumbled against your skin.

His lips were hot against your skin as he sucked a purple bruise on you hipbone. The fabric that had been ripped from your body and bunch up at your knees was now being pushed down you legs and you stepped out of it.

Bucky stood back up and tucked his hands under your thighs, making you jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

He handled you gently, making sure your legs shook at the touch of his tongue to your core and his tip to your sweat spot. He made sweet love to you and you were so glad he could fuck you like that for the rest of your life.

Tags: @kiwi-comics

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definegodliness · 4 years

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Paradise by the dashboard light

These days, going out, I’ve settled into my favourite musical genre: Techno. Or, to be on the safe side using a broader term: Electronic Dance Music. Now this wasn’t always so. I’ve enjoyed rock concerts, metal, folk, Hip-Hop, boogie, disco… and, come to think of it, there used to be this far out place playing 50’s dance music on Fridays. Everybody would be doing the twist, hand jive, or whatchamacallit, and all the other dances you’ve only seen Travolta execute to perfection. Great vibes there, I must say. It attracted the sort of people who were alternative on the fun and joyous side of the spectrum. Between them, anybody would instantly feel at home.

Before I digress even further, I’d like to say I think it’s important to try lots of different specific music styled parties, before you somewhat settle into your favourite genre. Let's face it, it's a necessary evil. With the progression of age there simply will be less and less opportunities to get everybody together and go out. Certainly not every week. And then, to get all of them on board, you gotta pick the music that brings everybody at least somewhat joy. At least enough to get on the dance floor. So it goes. Anyway: trying different genres. That’s how I found myself in a bar fully decorated to resemble a Swiss mountain cottage one day, getting myself acquainted with the Après Ski way of living. There was Jägermeister, and some fruity vodka based liquor called Flügel. They sold it in miniature bottles, which we would drop in our plastic beer glasses and call 'dive bombs’. Prost! and 'ad fundum'.

Did I mention there was beer? Rivers of it. And when I, novice Après Skier, finally got drunk enough to give in to the flow of ongoing moral decay; swaying arm in arm with some girl that smelled like Jäger, hints of vomit; her friend’s or her own, who knows, and sweat; who had wrapped her triceps-flap around my neck in a vice-tight shimmying death grip, and would not let go before I roared the male couplets of Meatloaf’s 'Paradise By The Dashboard Light’ with her, it happened. Like some primal feeling, originating from deep within my DNA; a feeling that had been simmering dormant within my genetic structure ever since The Migration Period, 375 A.D. All to now burst out in newfound freedom, to let me experience peak Germanic culture. It was in a song, which I will now roughly translate for you:

She had those great, great Big-ass, big-ass tiddies Big-ass tiddies, nice and wiggly I imagine how I’d ski– Upon her big-ass tiddies She had those great great Big-ass, big-ass tiddies Big-ass tiddies, giant grand! And when I think of them tiddies There’s a party in my pants

Now, I assure you, you can put the most sophisticated, stern, erudite, socially anxious. shy, and overly pensive man into an Après Ski venue, and by the end of the night — he will drink in order to try and survive — he will have degenerated into a motor-boating mastodon of mass-confusion infused fleshly indulgence.

As a matter of fact I still sometimes whistle the song when I’m in a good mood. Its in-your-face awfulness amuses me, and what amuses me even more is that no one knows the lines of the song I’m whistling. My vulgar side has always been well cultivated, but, if anything, rather sneakily exhibited. Only crystal clear to those who have known me for years. But enough about that. You are waiting for the moral of the story, and, of course, I would never write anything of this down if there wasn’t a moral to it:

If you ever hear the first electrical guitar notes of 'Paradise By The Dashboard Light’ kick in, run. Don’t look behind. Don’t try to save your friends. Run. Hide. Don’t think you’re aware of your surroundings. You are not. Don’t think that song is long forgotten. It is not. There be dwelling triceps-flapped creatures in the darkness, and they will crash down to clench your neck out of nowhere. You will be locked in the way roller-coaster safety bars would have you. Condemned to sit out the entire ride. Squirming and screaming, till, heaven forbid, you’re singing.

Jäger and sweat, my friend. Vomit; hers or a friend’s. And big tiddies. But it isn’t worth it! Just run. Run. It will be for the best. Stay pure. Keep your soul nice and tidy. Try and find one of those nice 50's bars. Twist with an arm’s length distance between you and your peachy keen partner. Go to where the people are alternative, but on the fun and joyous side of the spectrum. Between them, anybody would feel at home instantly. I’m sure you will too.

#prose #spilled ink #words #writing #apres ski #memories #trip down memory lane #nonsense #friday nonsense #story time #story #spilled thoughts #spilled words #creative writing #write #writers on tumblr #writer #paradise by the dashboard light #sophistication

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district7 · 4 years

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A Mockingjay Joniss AU - pt. 1: i’ve made up my mind (i’m never going back)

11.11.19

A Mockingjay Joniss AU - pt. 1: i’ve made up my mind (i’m never going back)

A Mockingjay AU WIP where Katniss reevaluates whether her best future is a path she had never considered. After Johanna fails the Block, it occurs to Katniss that her future is not pre-destined, that she’s done enough, and that she doesn’t owe any one, or any cause, a suicide mission.

A/N: There are no promises of quality assurance. Also, I make no promises about updates. (If I add that sort of pressure on myself about it, I’ll end up loathe to work on it.) This will likely hold a lot of things in common with other Mockingjay Joniss AUs, namely a return to District 7 instead of District 12, and an emphasis on the pair helping each other recover set against a backdrop of quasi-homesteading. I make zero assertions POV and tense will stay consistent across updates. This is an adventure in pantsting with a general goal in mind, rather than something I’m pre-plotting.

Feel free to send me constructive witticisms, requests, asks, comments, trolling, whatever.

_______________________

District 13 - Medical

Johanna’s limbs twitched, body emitting a mix of grunts and whimpers. Katniss guessed she was fighting in her sleep.

Or maybe running. The morphling line in her IV was a rifle with vicious recoil. Awake, it tricked you into believing pain was farther away and anxiety quieter than they actually were. Helpful. Maybe. Asleep, it made it harder to wake from the nightmares.

“Jo...”

Katniss nudged her shoulder with a knuckle, leaning forward out of her visitor’s chair only far enough to breach the edge of Johanna’s medical bed. Best to keep out of the way of swinging arms, if Johanna woke up fighting. “Johanna, wake up.”

In response, Johanna’s grunts and twitches ratcheted in intensity.

Katniss guessed at what she was dreaming. Maybe fighting mutts while they tried to pull her under water. What kind of mutts might the Capitol design for that? Giant fish with fiery eyes, men’s arms, and children’s hands? Eels with multiple tails which encapsulate you while the monsters drag you deeper into the pressing blackness, down until you finally have no choice but to gasp in water and drown yourself?

The Capitol and its mutts.

Katniss tried again to wake Johanna, but she only rolled in her hospital bed, tangling herself and her IV line in her bleached, too-white sheets while letting out a sleep-garbled plea.

Maybe not Capitol mutts, Katniss thought. This happened in The Block, the Rebellion’s own customizable mini-Arena. So, Rebellion mutts. Coin and her well-oiled machine could squeeze and fracture a person every bit as well as Snow and the Games could a Tribute. Less horrific and premeditated, definitely. Better justified, absolutely. Without the evil intent, hopefully. But they could still do it, all the same.

What was it Peeta had said in that interview?

Once you’re in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant. All the people and things you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. As bad as it makes you feel, you’re going to have to do some killing, because in the arena, you only get one wish. And it’s very costly. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people? It costs everything you are. So you hold on to your wish.

His wish had been for Katniss to live. Katniss’ had been for him to. And here they were. Everyone, except for Cinna, who she’d gone into the Quarter Quell caring about was somehow, miraculously, still alive. Prim. Her mother. Gale. Haymitch. Effie. Peeta might still be mentally disordered, but at least with her staying away, he was progressing well enough to decorate a wedding cake.

A wedding cake. That image made Katniss grunt. Finnick and Annie.

It wasn’t just those she cared about before the Quarter Quell who were still alive, it was also those she newly cared about. Those two. Beetee.

Johanna.

Johanna, for whom Katniss had experienced the impulse to volunteer as roommate. The one she’d sidled up to as a training partner. The one whose nightmares and traumas she’d been ready-fit acquaintances with. And also the one whose crass, doesn’t-give-a-fuck facade had gone from infuriating Katniss, when they’d first met, to actually making her laugh.

She sat on the edge of the bed and made one last, forceful attempt to stir Johanna, managing to cajole her onto her back and into wakefulness enough that she blinked with hazy recognition.

“Shit. Can’t a girl sleep without being molested?” Johanna was mumbling, voice rough.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“I can see your face, so clearly I must still be having it.”

“Funny.”

Johanna’s lids drifted shut.

“Have to be good for at least something, brainless, or else these wonderful District Thirteen people might decide it’s not worth the cost-benefit to feed me.”

“You’re good at lot of things,” Katniss joked. “Or at least that’s what you’re always going on to everyone about.”

Still with eyes closed, Johanna’s face pulled a smirk. “And wouldn’t you be lucky to experience every last one of those things, Everdeen.”

Katniss snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re incredible.”

“Most wait ‘till after to tell me that.”

“You know what I meant,” Katniss corrected, refusing to fall prey to the attempt at embarrassing her. She started untangling the sheet from around the IV as something else to focus on.

Johanna peeked open one eye to watch, then wiggled the rest of her arm free from the bedding as soon as Katniss was done, purposefully floundering it through the air until she thwacked her palm against Katniss’ cheek. She pushed her face away with token force, punctuated by a complaining groan.

“Go a-way. Your sickening goodness makes my ass itch. How’s a mentally disordered person supposed to sleep?"

Katniss managed to huff like she was offended, but when Johanna’s hand didn’t move away from her face, she pulled it down to her lap and held onto it, frowning.

“They’re re-classifying you as that again?”

Johanna’s hand twitched in Katniss’.

“What? No. It’s nothing.”

“Johanna...”

“I’m fine, leave it.” She yanked her hand free. “Aren’t you supposed to be prepping for an assassination mission right now anyway? Why are you here?”

Katniss frowned again at the abruptly acerbic tone, but she’d built up some resistance to it over time, and was tired herself, so she chose not walk into the trap. She was about to lay her own, anyway, after a fashion.

“You mean the suicide mission?” Her voice was a whisper, and she said it only after looking away from Johanna and picking her cuticles for a few long moments.

“What?” Johanna shimmied up into a sitting position, eyes wide and body instantly tense. “What are you talking about?”

Boggs’ words from a group meeting with Coin weeks before had been revolving through Katniss’ mind for the previous twenty-four hours.

Even if we’re careful, we can’t guarantee her safety. She’ll be a target for every-

He hadn’t gotten to finish, because Katniss herself had interrupted him. But she could definitely fill in the blank herself.

“Think about, Johanna. Because since the Block, I’ve certainly been thinking about it. At best, it’s a mission doomed to fail. At worst, it’s a death sentence. I think I’ve slept less than you in the last forty-eight hours.”

“You promised.” Johanna and pulled her arms tightly around her shoulders to make herself smaller. Triggered into a minor episode, she shook her head non-stop, as if doing so could change the reality of what Katniss had said. “You promised you’d kill him for me. I need him to be dead!”

Katniss sighed loudly and stared up at ceiling, fighting her own frustration as well as Johanna’s. Fighting to keep her voice calm.

“I know. I know I did, Johanna. And he will.“ She put a hand on Johanna’s knee to calm her, only to have Johanna swipe it away. But she went on. “We’ve breached the Capitol. We have forces there. Everyone wants Snow’s head. The Rebellion has come too far to stop, and Coin is going to make sure he ends up dead one way or another. But think about it. I’m not a trained assassin, I’m barely a solider. I don’t have an anonymous face. What chance do I really have? I’m a girl with a rifle and a bow. In the middle of a city decked out with Gamemakers’ traps, thousands of peacekeeper who know my face, and tens of thousands of Capitol citizens ready to raise an alert.” She gave Johanna a grim smile. “Those odds are way higher against than we faced in all of our games combined. And my target? One man on the far side of a war zone, almost certainly sealed away in a well-guarded bomb shelter.”

Katniss gave a weak shrug. “Boggs is right. He didn’t call it a suicide mission out loud, but he knows it is. I’ve been seeing it in his eyes, the hoping that I'd see it for myself.”

“Fuck,” Johanna hissed. “I’m so fucking tired of all this SHIT!”

The sudden screaming brought in the medical staff. Johanna shouted wild curses at them, alarming them all the more, but Katniss eventually talked them into leaving. It took long minutes, but Johanna’s shaking slowly evolved to despondent rocking. And then her chin sank to her chest, followed a moment later by a sniff, and then her dragging an arm across her face to wipe at it. Finally, she gripped her skull and let herself fall back flat onto the bed.

“Jo, I don’t know what kind of a life you want to have when this is over, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going back. I’ve done enough. We’ve both done enough. We don’t owe anyone. It’s not selfish: We’ve reached the point where we’re no longer necessary. Coin and the other District Leaders can duke it out; it doesn’t need to be Mockingay business. The only thing I want is to live a quiet life where I know Prim is safe and I can shrink out from under the spotlight. That’s what started this for me. That’s the promise I need to keep. The one I made to her on Reaping Day. That I’d live and come back to her.” She added, “You can’t tell me that at least part of you isn’t interested.”

There was more sniffling, and more face wiping. And a few ragged breaths before there was an exhausted response.

“Do you really believe that’s possible?”

“I think Coin will give it to us. She needs popular Victors around after the Capitol falls like a bear needs bees stinging at its nose when it wants honey. At this stage, my quiet exit might be as tempting for her as it is for me. And face it, from her perspective- If I’m right- if I do go, at best my death makes a good propo, except that it comes at the cost of the Capitol claiming credit for killing me. But if I actually succeeded, she risks me having an even bigger voice in Panem’s future. Considering how we’ve butted heads already, that’s not something she’s likely to want. And that puts not just me, but everyone I care about right back in danger.” Katniss had risked sneaking that train of thought into a whispered conversation with Boggs over that morning’s breakfast.

The look he’d given her had been answer enough.

“For once, I’d like the chance to choose my own fate instead of being manipulated into one.”

Johanna continued to stare up at the ceiling.

“You’re serious about this.”

“I have the bone-chilling feeling I need to be.”

“And so what,” Johanna struggled for the energy to push herself up on her elbows, glaring, “this is you asking my blessing to beg Coin to send you, your family, and lover boy back to Twelve so you can have a guilt-free happily ever after?”

Katniss gave herself time to cycle through a slow breath. Being about to say it aloud made it feel more like killing someone than letting them go. But Johanna was impatient.

“I’m sick of this visit, Katniss. Just say whatever it is and get it over with.”

“Fine.” Katniss sucked in a breath. “Peeta’s a long way from being able to go anywhere without a counselor. Maybe things could be different. In the future, after time passes and he’s better and I don’t feel constantly conflicted over what I should be feeling and how much of that is me over what people keep telling me I feel. And-”

“There goes your self-righteous we-really-love-each-other act, princess.”

“Shut up, Johanna! It’s complicated and you know it. And like I said, maybe things could be different. None of us knows that, though. But what I do know is that neither he or I need that sort of pressure right now, and right now is when I need to make a decision for the people who are still within my reach.”

Johanna relented, begrudgingly.

“If you go back to Twelve, you realize he’ll just end up back there at some point. If you go home, he follows. He won’t be able to help it.”

Katniss hesitated, but then nodded sadly. “I know.”

“Is that what you want?”

Katniss didn’t respond. Instead, after some quiet, she reached over to the nightstand for Johanna’s pine bundle, laying it on the bed. Her fingers lingered on it briefly before withdrawing.

“This was on the floor when I came in. Decided you didn’t like it after all?”

“Probably fell out while I was sleeping.” Johanna picked it up and took a sniff, then kept it at her nose to breathe the scent.

“Had you wanted to go back to Seven when this was all done?”

“I...” Johanna’s shoulders slowly sagged. “I don’t know,” she said simply, expression carefully neutral. “I don’t have anything there. Haven’t for a long time. And I haven’t even been able to picture a world that’s that normal enough to even try thinking about it.”

“Well, do. At this point, the three us of would rather go to Seven with you than back to Twelve.” Johanna narrowed her eyes, surprised. Perhaps suspicious. It didn’t phase Katniss. “Haymitch and Finnick have both agreed to help me make the argument to Coin for us.” And when Johanna only continued to study Katniss, without voicing an objection, Katniss hazarded some levity, "And anyway, you’re practically required to say yes: Prim insists she wants to adopt you into the family.”

“I’m not a fucking pet,” Johanna responded, eventually, but without real heat.

“Whatever you say, lumber-woman.” Katniss chuckled at the dirty face Johanna made at that, before standing to leave. “I think we both know Prim's pretty good at getting what she wants.”

“It should be illegal to be that fucking adorable.”

“Yeah,” Katniss agreed, to be polite. “Okay, well, I’m going to go talk to Haymitch. You aren’t laying a string of profanity down on me, so I’m going to run with it.”

Johanna pulled her knees to her chest, making herself small again.

“What is it?”

Johanna shook her head.

“Come on, Johanna.”

“I... don’t want to get dragged there and then dumped, if you guys don’t like it.” A tear raced down her cheek, then another, which Johanna cursed even as she wiped them away. “I... Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this. If you tell anyone, especially that stupid head doctor, that I'm saying this, I’ll rip your spine out.” The tears were still coming. “But I don’t think I can handle having people and then losing them again.”

Again. The weight of that word settled on Katniss’ shoulders.

She struggled with how to respond, in the end climbing onto the bed and letting Johanna curl into her side.

#joniss #johanna and katniss #katniss and johanna #johanna mason #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #johanna x katniss #katniss x johanna #mockingjay #moockingjay au #district 7

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alphabetatoes · 5 years

Text

The Chain (Michael Langdon x Reader)

a/n: well its been a hot minute since I’ve written for MIchael so here goes nothing!

warnings: smut, one of the world’s shortest sex scenes, fem!reader, angST?!, generally bad writing lmfao

word count: 1.6 k

Listen to the wind blow. Watch the sun rise.

730 days. 730 days you had been trapped inside the fallout shelter. The only glimpse of the outside you had gotten was the occasional trip to the quarantine shower, where a small box-shaped window gave a view to the outside. After the bombs fell, there wasn’t much to look at. But anything-anything at all-that could keep you connected to the outside world was worth. Something about it made you feel more human, and less trapped by the sterility of the shelter. After Langdon arrived, those occasional trips to the almost outside started to cease. He promised a new safe space, a facility run by the Cooperative where only the most worthy of survivors would be able to stay. And with that promise came the mandatory interviews. “I will be conducting individual interviews to determine who I deem fit for the sanctuary. If you try to increase your odds by attempting to seem favorable, I will know and you will be disqualified.” Michael Langdon held himself with such poise that it was almost off-putting. Something didn’t feel right, like your body was trying to warn you of his intentions. “I would be happy to go first.” Gallant said, slyly. ………………………

Soon enough it was your time to go in for an interview. The entire idea of this promised sanctuary seemed too good to be true. After all, if everything was gone, how on earth would it be possible for one singular place to survive? You approached the door to Michael’s room with caution. Everyone who exited looked as if they regretted their decision to enter in the first place.

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies.

“I think you’re in denial.” “What are you, a mind reader?’ “Something like that…” He knew he was attractive, and that gave him an air of confidence and cockiness you just couldn’t bother to force yourself to understand. Michael leaned against the banister of his bed, inviting you to take a seat next to him. “I’ve been here all of 4 hours and you’ve already decided your disdain for me. Isn’t that a bit sad?” “Not trusting a stranger who’s promising a utopia during the nuclear apocalypse? I really don’t think so.” “Maybe if we got to know each other a bit better.” His suggestion brought chills through your body, as if suggesting something more than a routine interview. “And what exactly do you have in mind?” You could never be too cautious. “Well, we could have some fun.” His suggestion led you to believe this was something more than getting to know each other. But you had to admit that you weren’t opposed to having a little fun. It also helped that Michael was the textbook definition of the phrase “sex appeal”. “Let’s do it then.” You said, raising your eyebrows. That was enough to have MIchael’s lips on yours, grasping at your sides. you found your hands travelling up to his hair. Michael propped you up on the dresser by his bed, and you straddled your legs around his waist. His lips left yours and pressed against your neck, nipping at your skin. You moaned, melting into his touch.

Just as the two of you were getting started, Venable marched into the room.

“Langdon. I realize you’re a bit predisposed right now, but I need to speak with you.”

“We’ll finish this later.” Michael whispered into your ear.

And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again.

It became routine. Michael would call you to his room for “further consultation” for the position at the sanctuary. After you closed and locked the door, Michael’s lips were on yours. One of your hands combed through his hair as the other was anchored to his waist (). These makeout sessions seldom were able to get any further than that, as Venable or Mead would find a way to interrupt before things could really heat up. But today was different. There was a Halloween party happening in the main room, so Venable and Mead were stuck with the unfortunate task of babysitting the rest of the survivors. So you seized the opportunity to take things further. Your hands were able to leave the familiarity of his boy and trek into new territory. “Are you sure you want to do this?” “Absolutely.” Your hands made their way to his oants, quickly trying to unbutton them as he removed his top. Once he was down to just his underwear, it was your turn. As Michael unzipped your dress, he admired every inch of your unclothed body. You were beautiful. Your hands trailed down to his waist, attempting to remove the final bit of clothing keeping you from all your fun. “Eager now, are we?” He joked. “Shut up and fuck me.” He removed his underwear and helped you out of yours without hesitation. Hands on skin tracing circles around the most sensitive of areas. Michael lined up with your entrance and you braced for a slight pinch of pain. His body felt wonderful in yours, and as he moved in and out it sent shivers down your spine. Both your bodies radiated with pleasure, and you could feel yourself about to orgasm. It was blissful, and you could tell Michael was about to finish as well. “Fuck, babe. Is it okay if I…?” “Yes”, you smiled. Michael came, bringing warmth to your stomach. “I love you.” He said. The words shocked you. Michael wasn’t the type to express such strong emotions, at least not so openly. The two of you got cleaned up, feeling like giddy teenagers having to sneak in some fun for fear of being caught by Venable Once you two were finished, you laid in his bed. You were tired, but so very happy. Michael wrapped his arm around you, and for once you felt safe. “There’s something I need to tell you..” “Don’t me you’re breaking up with me.” You joked. “What? No! Of course not.” Michael clarified. “It’s just… when I said I was an important figure it wasn’t just referring to my job.” “What are you? The son of God?” “More like Satan.” “You’re funny, Michael.” You said. The mere idea of anything biblical being real wasn’t a shock, after all if the book of revelations had a movie tie in, it would look like your current situation. However, you weren’t sure if you could handle any more surprises.

I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain.

The outpost was eerily quiet. Having a couple silent nights wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but this was a deafening silence, almost as if you could hear your own thoughts. It was also a little suspicious. Given the fact that the Halloween party was supposed to be going on at that very moment the lack of noise made you want to investigate. Slowly, you pried yourself from Michael’s hold and shimmied out of the bed. You quietly exited the room, not wanting to wake him up. Every room upstairs was vacant. When you went downstairs you didn’t know what to expect. The library and dining rooms were empty which only left the main ballroom. As you made your way there you could hear the humming of the record player. One of the songs from the Cooperative was playing- Tonight You Belong to Me. It was a song near and dear to Michael’s heart and by default one of your favorites now. Opening up the doors to the ballroom, you were immersed in the music. But your stomach dropped. Everyone you knew was lying on the floor dead, and the stench of stomach bile burnt your nose. You didn’t know whether to cry or scream. The only person you could go to to get any sort of comfort from was Michael. “I didn’t want you to find out about this.” Michael’s tall frame leaned against the doorway. “And what do you mean by that?” “I just… I was going to tell you myself. But Venable and Mead wanted to go through with this so I didn’t know this would all be happening so fast.” “Don’t Michael,” your words had bite to them, “Don’t turn this on anyone except yourself. How long have you known this was going to happen?!” Your eyes began to burn as tears stained your cheeks. “It was planned since the beginning.” Michael seemed to regret every word he said as he said it. “What the fuck Michael!” All you could feel was anger. You had been lied to, and worst of all you felt mad at yourself for getting into this situation. “Y/N, I promise I was going to tell you.” Michael’s attempts at lightening the situation were failing miserably. “Oh, just like you promised you were going to tell me that you were the fucking son of Satan?” You could feel the anger running fresh through your veins. Betrayal was not a foreign concept to you, but you trusted- loved- him. And the fact that you were unable to do anything about it made it about 1000 times worse. You were fucked. No ifs ands or buts about it. If you were dying, it was going to be on your own terms. This entire apocalypse had taken everything from you but you were not about to let it take your dignity. “I’m staying at the outpost.” “Think about this. Seriously. You’ll die, and you would be much safer at the sanctuary with me!” “Oh, cut the shit Michael! There’s no sanctuary. Everything is gone. You killed my friends, my family. I’m not going to be your partner in crime for the Rapture.” “I promise I can make this better. I just need you to believe me.” “The only way you could even possibly make this better is to leave me alone.” You started to walk away, wanting to lock yourself in your room forever. After all, the only person left in this world you could trust was yourself. “Y/N wait-” “No, Michael.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #cody fern #ahs apocalypse #american horror story

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nosgothpillarofdeath · 5 years

Text

Somebody to Love

((A discord RP with the incredible @arachnicianhierophant, taking place directly after Break Free. I typically don’t post this type of content to my blogs but this was simply too good not to share.))

The inn was still going strong by the time they returned. Mortanius felt slightly self-conscious as the two of them crossed the bar for the stairs, but at least the noise would provide them cover. His room was at the end of the hall on the second floor. A bit larger than the others with a window and space for a round table with a couple of chairs. The bed was roomy enough for two. He sat on the edge of it with his traveling bag and started moving some of the contents onto the bed stand, a couple of towels and a bottle of something.

"I apologize, I'm not accustomed to doing this with someone I know," he said sheepishly, realizing that he had suddenly gone all closed off. It felt strange to have performance anxiety. Usually he didn't care so much as long as he felt satisfied by the end.

Undoubtedly Mortanius was doing better than Zephon.

Zephon was looming in the corner, looking like he was waiting for instruction... Which honestly wasn't far from the truth.

"I'm not accustomed to this at all, if it helps?" Zephon asks. After a moment of awkward silence he swallows. "S... So. How...?" He sighs. "Um. How do you... Normally want this to happen?" He asks.

"Well... we have to get undressed. You could sit beside me, too." He started by taking off his shoes. Usually he helped his partner out of their clothes. With Zephon, he wondered if he would enjoy that. By now the reality of what happened with the knife had finally sunk in, leading him to realize that Zephon was much more closed off than any partner he'd had before.

Zephon's eyes widened. He looked down at his ensemble and slowly reached into his sleeve.

With a few moments of trouble, out came the knife... Then he reached into his other sleeve, pulling out another. He removed his scarf before bending down to his boots, taking one out of each and finally pulling his socked feet out of their confines.

Even in his baggy disguise Zephon appeared willowy and lithe, a little less awkward than before as he straightened out and walked to sit by Mortanius. "Just... A fore warning... There are more."

Mortanius crossed one leg over his knee and removed his sock. He blinked at Zephon. "More what?"

"... Weapons..." He uttered. "Distractions..." His head sunk. "knives."

He blinked again. "Oh..."

Mortanius knit his brow, frowning at the knives Zephon had already removed from his sleeves. It did not seem like this decision was something made simply for the sake of this mission. Did he always do this?

"Would you like some help? You still haven't come any closer."

Zephon sat down on the bed. "I'd like... That if you would like. If not I... May need a moment to make myself un-prickly."

Mortanius touched Zephon's uninjured shoulder, which he knew to be safe, and kissed his jaw. He hoped his affection would sooth the tortuer's nerves. It would be a difficult evening if they were both on edge. "I'll be careful."

He started with the vest.

There was noticable... Heft to the vest. Zephon let out an audible sigh of relief as he reached out to touch Mortanius' arm. Two knives were tied to the inside of the inquisitor's vest, and another tied on a harness over his shirt. Zephon helped by shimmying out of both, then lightly tugged on Mortanius' sleeve. "... May I?"

The sight saddened him more than he expected. He felt as though he had seen something like this before, although in a much more metaphorical sense. After setting the vest to the side of the bed (he would have to remember which side, lest he step on them in the morning) he started to reach for the harness, but Zephon stopped him first. Color rose to his cheeks. "If you'd like... actually, I have something hidden as well. Go ahead. Mine don't poke."

Zephon now was curious. A curious smile crept on Zephons face. "Really, now?" He asked, a hand reaching into Mortanius' jacket as he palmed the usual suspects. Nothing in the shoulders, Pectorals... He leaned in. Nothing on the back he could feel...

Slowly he shrugged off the elders jacket, feeling a little embarassed for realizing how handsy he got. "Where?"

Mortanius tried very hard not to shiver. It felt so good to be touched like that, even if it wasn't inherently sexual. He licked his lips. "You'll have to take off my shirt."

"Really?" He purred. He pulled at the elder's shirt, untucking it if it had been. He hadn't been paying attention as he skipped a hand up his shirt and...

Zephon paused.

"Wait..." He said, pushing up Mortanius' shirt to be greeted with a bit of hubris. "How? How are you so muscular?" Zephon asked.

The muscles Zephon had just discovered tensed. He leaned his head forward, brushing against Zephon's brow, and softly grasped his wrist. After thirty years it didn't take much to make him eager. "Spar with Malek sometimes. Magic takes a toll on the body so... it helps to keep in shape."

Zephon let out an exaserbated guffaw and lifted the shirt up. "You're as built as Turel!" He says, trying to lift the shirt off.

And he was hairy! Dark hair he... Probably would have expect to be there, but like this? Zephon pondered how the pillar kept cool in his abundant clothing.

"Now I'm envious..." He says. The most definition he ever got was some in his midsection, calves and shoulders, but nothing like this. "... Well. I do believe it's your turn."

"Ugh, I am not! Turel is an ox and I'm... I don't know what - but not that." He wriggled out of his sleeves and tossed the shirt aside without any of the care he showed for Zephon's knife infested clothing.

There was another kind of sleeve under Mortanius' clothing, a tattoo that practically covered his right arm from shoulder to elbow. The marking on the shoulder was the most complex - a sigil comprised of the symbols for elemental light and elemental darkness overlapping each other much in the way the moon overlaps the sun during an eclipse. Beneath the sigil a few black bands encircled his upper arm. Each band knotted in the middle and broke apart at the ends. Given the amount of flat black ink in his skin, obtaining them must have been a test of pain.

Mortanius now reached for the harness on Zephon's back. He kissed his cheek again as he undid the buckle and dropped the heavy armament over the side of the bed with his vest and then moved onto Zephon's shirt.

Zephon immediately found himself gripping his shirt. "No."

The reaction was damn near involuntary, and even then Zephon seemed embarassed. "I... I dont mind if you touch my chest or arms..." He is clearly some combination of troubled and embarassed. "I just... I don't like my back uncovered."

He sighs and tightens it's hem so the fabric is pulled taught around his torso. "No knives. I swear..." He says. "Well. At least there."

Mortanius stopped immediately. For a second he forgot about his earlier assessment, about Zephon likely having a reason to guard himself so carefully. He touched his clenched fist and caressed it reassuringly. As Zephon was beginning to notice his hands were rough in texture, calloused from casting volatile spells, but their scars did not diminish his innate tenderness. "I'll just unbutton the front. Is that alright?"

"Ah-uh..." He seemed to breathe, holding his hand for a moment. "Yes... Please, by all means."

Zephon rakes in a few more deep breaths as he releases Mortanius's hand and places his arms on the built man's shoulders. Did he have to react like that? Why couldn't he just be normal?

Even Mortanius just being tender with him was getting him a little overwhelmed.

Mortanius kissed his lips softly while his hands worked on the buttons of his shirt. He whispered, "It's alright. You don't have to be perfect. I'm not interested in perfect."

His eyes drifted down to Zephon's bare chest. He was not as sculpted as the men Mortanius usually favored nor as manly. Running his hand from his stomach, his fingers raked through a sparse cluster of curly chest hair as red as Zephon's head, covering a heart that was fluttering like a frightened bird. And he was positively covered in freckles. Mortanius bit his lip slightly, smiling. "I like your freckles."

Zephon was at a loss. He found it strange being ogled. Was this ogling? This was ogling wasnt it? By the wheel he wanted to burry himself in Mortanius' shoulder, but he found himself wiggling to stay a little discreet.

Zephon nervously kissed the elders' temple gingerly, laughing nervously. "T... Thank you. I like... Um. Your chest." He muttered out an apology for not saying so earlier.

Mortanius laughed softly in reply. He did not expect to like Zephon's freckles. They made him look silly, he used to think, but now, in this context... He lifted his head and buried a deep, gentle kiss. "Please don't tell me you have knives in your pants," he cooed.

"..." Zephon let out a sigh of defeat. "... Alright. I won't."

He looked at Mortanius with an absolute grin of nervousness. "But I can, for sure, say there are caltrops."

Was he being serious? Caltrops? Mortanius sighed and eyed Zephon's trousers like a mouse eyes a mousetrap. He slid his hand down between Zephon's thighs, rubbing against the front with a slight pressure. "Hmm. This spot seems safe..."

Zephon let out an audible moan, curling forward as his knees buckle. Zephon's face grew beet-red as he squirmed. "... I- what if..." He huffed. Evidently Zephon liked that. "I disarmed myself?"

Grinning, Mortanius gave another small squeeze and stroke. He truly did not want to let go. When he did release it was only to unbuckle Zephon's belt and greedily stuff his hand all the way down his trousers.

"You better get started," he exhaled hotly.

"A-ah-"

Zephon's singing voice, apparently didn't leave him in... Other instances. The younger man bit his lips to try and keep quiet, but little whimpers of pleasure still trickled through.

Zephon removed his hands from Mortanius's shoulders and down to his drawers. Two daggers of various sizes came from his belt, as well as a bag. Once the belt was gone, Zephon removed a few more from the inseams of his drawers.

Finally, it seemed, Zephon was unarmed, an entranced smile glossed over his face as he returned his hands to Mortanius' face. "Done. Truly this time."

After a certain point Mortanius needed to stop and sit back, both to give Zephon space and to bewilder at the absurd amount of steel. Seeing Zephon's manhood bobbing out the front of his loosened trousers only made this scene more ridiculous. Mortanius smiled. He wanted to laugh but his stomach was twisted in knots.

Kissing him, he bid him to lie down. Finally he relieved Zephon of his pants and underwear. Freckled all over. Seeing all of him at once - sans the portion covered by his unbuttoned shirt - Mortanius almost didn't know what to do with himself. Grabbing the bottle from the nightstand, he straddled and intently placed Zephon's hand on the hem of his pants while he worked on unscrewing the cap. Teamwork.

He was more than willing to oblige. Zephon did his best to make up for lost time and rubbed small circles with his thumbs on Mortanius' abdomen. Would have kissed him, if not how preoccupied Mortanius was.

When Zephon found his fingers unlacing the others' drawers did it finally hit him. He was having sex... With Mortanius of all people.

Well. He better try to make this exciting.

"Tell me what feels good?"

Mortanius paused with the cap in one hand and the opened bottle in the other. Didn't Zephon say he was inexperienced?

"Right now, anything. I'll let you know." With his pants around his knees, he cupped Zephon's dominant hand and poured a little bit of the liquid into his palm. It felt cool and incredibly slippery. He then gave himself a little and stretched to return the bottle to the nightstand where it would not be disturbed. "Use that on me, like this..."

Leaning over Zephon, he started stroking the younger man's shaft with his slick hand, spreading the stuff around. It already felt much better than when Mortanius used his dry hand. His calloused fingers no longer chafed on sensitive areas.

Zephon let out an audible noise again, and fought the urge to move his hips. He let out a breathy sigh and followed suit, gripping Mortanius. Surprisingly, Zephon's fingers weren't, as calloused- but more toned with dexterous muscles. "This better?"

"Mmm," he moaned softly. Yes, it felt good.

Mortanius paused the action for a moment to shift to a new position between Zephon's thighs and lowered himself until their privates touched. He nudged Zephon's hand back into position. Their fingers bumped as Mortanius joined in stroking and rubbing their intimate parts together, supporting the back of Zephon's head with his arm and kissing him passionately, hips rocking. This was the closest they had been yet. It was easy to do, too. Zephon's inexperience made little difference here.

After about a minute Mortanius' hand turned downward. His fingers slid between Zephon's cheeks, spreading the slippery stuff around and pressing his hole like a button. He did not intrude, he only wanted to see if he liked it.

Zephon's middle ached with something he couldn't quiet place. It wasn't fear or curiosity, but he did feel paralyzed as Mortanius began to move and kiss him.

After a moment of catching up to himself mentally did Zephon use his brain and do something about it. He cupped Mortanius' cheek and rocked his hips back against his lover, letting little open- mouthed moans mix between them.

This? This was incredible, it was more than he had ever thought it was. Sure, Zephon had primarily wanted to stop being lonely. However there were times in Raziel's peripheral he'd scorn the physical act of lovemaking. Surely sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Especially between two drastically different sorts of people.

Zephon was pleased to know he was... Wrong. So pleasantly wrong.

Even when Mortanius pressed behind him did he only shudder slightly, rolling his hip back further up into the elder.

Mortanius confessed he wanted more from this, despite the pleasentness. It felt artificial. This position excited him more with long term lovers, men who shared his bed for years. Zephon could be one of those men, but right now? Right now Mortanius had thirty years of tension tied up like a rat king in his stomach. He wiggled the tip of his finger inside, about an inch. "You like that?"

Zephon tensed, his face scrunching as he was invaded from behind.

A pit in his stomach formed as unease made it's way in Zephon's gut. "Uh-" he was speechless. The sensation was certainly... Different. Not unpleasant, but...

Zephon shook his head. "I... Not... Not so fast, please."

Once he saw Zephon's face it was impossible to hide his disappointment. If he disliked that he would certainly hate what Mortanius had in mind. He withdrew, grasped Zephon's thigh and pulled it up against his hip. "Then just... squeeze me a bit, would you? You could move more."

He could think of other things. Zephon might be too unsure of himself to top him properly. Maybe the other way? It wasn't really what he wanted. No point stopping just to think about it, he should be enjoying himself. He squeezed the hand on his shaft and kissed Zephon's neck. "Rougher."

Zephon shivered at the requests. Mortanius seemed... Unsatisfied. That only made him feel worse about the situation.

Zephon wanted to be able, but right now- even known this man as long as he had: couldn't entirely trust him.

The inquisitor paid close attention to Mortanius' word and felt his face harden. If that's what Mortanius wanted: it was what he'd get.

"Rougher you say?" He posed, his grip tightening on them as he made sure to stroke with a little more force. "... I can provide that..."

He didn't like it, but Mortanius... Plainly needed this more than he did. He'd remember that as he kissed Mortanius' head in response. "Harder?"

His muscles tensed and he let out a slight groan. That did feel better. He slid his hand back into place around Zephon. "P-please... ah... How do you want it?"

There was enough room to give Zephon what he wanted, too. Not that he would have felt too bothered about finishing first. In fact, he rather liked that idea. There was one thing he always liked doing and he knew for a fact Zephon would enjoy it.

"I don't-" Zephon grunted, rubbing his pelvis up into the death pillar's with a little bit more desperation.

Zephon couldn't say as though he was surprised, he prayed to the wheel Mortanius didn't know of his youth in training... He prayed, honestly that he could forget it hinself, but that seemed moot. The best he could do is help the man who had been so kind to him.

"S-surprise me" he challenged lightly as he ran his thumb over Mortanius' head.

That made Mortanius snicker into Zephon's shoulder. Surprise? He could only imagine.

He merely played with Zephon's cock. It was easy enough to keep him stimulated without pushing him over the edge. Mortanius, on the other hand, did not even try to contain himself. His mind was racing. Quite suddenly Mortanius arched his back and with a muffled yelp released his seed over Zephon's stomach. After that he simply leaned his head against Zephon's shoulder for a moment, catching his breath. He stopped stroking Zephon but he hadn't let go of him yet either. No, he wasn't done yet.

Zephon released Mortanius for the time being, instead wrapping hus clean hand around the elders' chest and gently pulling him into a panting embrace. He littered kisses across Mortanius' neck and murmured quiet words of affirmation into his skin. "Are you alright? Was that too much? I'm sorry. Is this too much? You must be tired..."

Mortanius let out a panting laugh. He braced himself against the bed, preventing himself from being moved, and kept his hold around Zephon. The torturer was still hard. That was good. He lifted his head and swept back the dark hair hang over his face, revealing a satisfied grin. "You're... being too kind... to this old man. Ah, now then..."

Sitting back on his knees, he collected his hair in both hands and wrapped it up in a bun. He was getting his slick hand in it but he could wipe the stuff out later with a towel. Zephon would need one too with the state he left him in, although that too could wait a few more minutes. Mortanius cleared his throat. "Lie back and relax. You're about to learn something about me."

He scooted back a step then placed his hands on Zephon's waist. Next he steadied Zephon's shaft, pointing it up, and raked his tongue lovingly over the tip. In the next moment he leaned forward and slid the thing into his mouth; not just the tip - the whole entire thing!

"How else am I supposed to treat you?" Zephon pondered openly. Was being kind after the act not common? He rarely heard of people boasting about it, but almost always of being rough.

He was halfway to sitting when Mortanius told him to lie back down, and he couldn't help but wonder curiously what was going on. Mortanius came, didn't he? Yes... What else was on his stomach?

"Learn soemthing like wh-AHaaa-" Zephon's voice tappered out into a gasp loud enough that he covered his mouth with his hands and shook. Mortanius was, evidently, very good at this sort of thing. Zephon would have almost certainly have been done by this point and time with himself- but his partner seemed more than willing to draw out the time they were together.

He wanted to touch Mortanius- he wanted to say something- but as the satisfied moans racked his lungs he found himself damn near clawing his own mouth shut.

Faint vibrations tickled his shaft as Mortanius moaned in kind. It might surprise Zephon how much he enjoyed this after he already climaxed. In the first place he came by thinking about it. He took his time, sucking and slowly drawing Zephon deep into his throat, supporting him with his tongue. Tasted terribly bitter. By the Wheel, how he missed doing this.

Pent up and painful, now it was Zephon's own fault things weren't going as fast as Mortanius probably wanted. Zephon's thighs flexed to keep himself in check as he tried and failed- to get used to the sensation of recieving head for the first time. Honestly, there was only so much Zephon could keep up before the inevitable happened- he wasn't entirely stupid in this regard. However- he really... REALLY didn't want to make Mortanius uncomfortable. Zephon slowly lowered a hand from his mouth to the elder's hair lightly touching his head with equal parts desperation and attempted kindness. "P-please... I don't... I don't want to make yo- Ah-" deep breath. Mortanius was... Too good at this. Or maybe Zephon was too inexperienced. "I don't want to make you dirty-"

A new taste emerged as he drew on Zephon's tip. Mortanius hummed. Some of his hair fell out of place as Zephon touched him and he paused with half inside his mouth and lifted his eyes. Ah, the look on Zephon's face. Mortanius' cheeks dimpled. As he went down on him again he stroked his hand across Zephon's stomach, prodding along the sides near his hips. There was a nerve here that usually made men come. He just needed to find the spot.

Mortanius seemed to not heed his words- maybe he had grown numb to Zephons whimpering? Didn't hear him? Whatever the case may be Mortanius kept on keeping on. If given the chance to speak directly, Zephon would have suggested Mortanius was being too kind to him, instead of the other way around.

"Wa-wait..." he said as Mort's hand trailed along his stomach.

His core and legs were already so engaged and over-reacting. If Mortanius kept this up then there'd be no chance Zephon could save face. "If you do that I'm going- Ahh-" his voice hit a crack as the heat in his belly stirred. It was too late. All Zephon could do was hope.

His knees buckled slightly as his lower calves cramped up. The fingers in Mortanius hair grabbed strands with a death-grip as Zephon's other hand clutched anything beneath him. His back arched, letting out a vocal littany of moans and gasps as he came to the elder's mouth. Bright lights danced behind Zephon's closed eyes as he finished with a shiver and string of gasps.

"Ah- ah... I'm so sorry. I didn't-" But could he move afterwards? No. Not at all. Zephon's body couldn't and wouldn't cooperate with him. In fact, words failed the normally coherent man.

"Mmm-hm!" Mortanius' shoulders bunched up like a cat being scratched in just the right spot. His lips sealed around Zephon's base as he sucked and swallowed the thick stream. He coughed faintly, squeezing his nostrils shut with his fingers as he kept going. Too much!

By the time Zephon emptied Mortanius' lungs ached for air. He sat up, gasping and sniffing loudly but smiling with supreme satisfaction. Still catching his breath he reached for a towel, rubbed out the stick from his hair, and lovingly wiped down Zephon's stomach, cleaning away the mess he left behind after Zephon stroked him off, spreading tender kisses across the torturer's freckled and sweaty chest.

"Don't be sorry," the Death Guardian purred. "It was a pleasure."

Quivering, still where he laid, Zephon replaced his hand from Mortanius' hair onto his arm. He couldn't coherently say how- but he muttered something gentle and sat up a bit to bring the other man down to the bed with him. "I didn't mean to grab you like that..." he uttered.

Casting the towel aside, Mortanius gingerly wrapped his arms around Zephon and made himself cozy. He pried his pants from his ankles with his feet and nudged them off of the edge of the bed to let his bare leg lie across Zephon's thigh, nuzzled his head against Zephon's cheek and gazed down his chest as he lightly touched a cluster of freckles around his collar bone. Freckled all over. Unbelievable. His breath warmly drifted across Zephon's neck as he spoke. "I liked it. And... I like you."

Zephon shivered quietly at the little confession, but adamantly rubbed his hands along Mortanius' back. It pleased him that Mortanius enjoyed that, he couldn't even begin to think of what he would do if this was something he'd regret. He still had reservations about accidentally hurting the man, though, even if it was just a hypothetical.

"Thank you... I like you, too..."

Zephon hurt people for a living already. He didn't want to do that to a lover.

Wait, were they lovers now? Zephon squinted and tried not to think too much on it, instead he kissed Mortanius' face and quietly breathed with him.

Then a small sigh. "... Mortanius. Don't laugh."

Mortanius closed his eyes after the kiss. God, he smelled nice too. The familiarity made it better. "About what?"

Zephon giggled. "We should... Probably relieve ourselves."

Mortanius groaned. "You certainly know how to ruin a moment. There's a chamber pot in the corner, you go first."

Zephon fell into a fit of giggles. "I'm sorry-" he wheezed. "Aaah I didn't want to break away without saying something~" the tension he had was now gone. All of it, surprisingly. The fear of returning back to the Stronghold? Gone. The fear of under-performing? Gone. The fear that he'd say the wrong thing? Okay, that was there- but at this point the stress-to-ease ratio was so far to the other side every mistake he made came with humor.

Zephon sat up a bit, careful not to hurt Mortanius as he ascended... Then smiled a bit, leaned over and kissed the man's nose again.

"I'm sorry. I'll be right back," he bade a little more quietly, confidently as he sauntered off.

Mortanius rolled onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. This all felt so natural. Like a lot of evenings in the distant past. His brows knit. At heart he was a monogamist. Even in his youth it took him a long time to move into a new relationship after the death of his previous partner. How long had it been since Inquisitor Bartholomew? Four - no, five centuries? Their relationship had been short by comparison with Mortanius' other lovers, he died of his wounds. Maybe it was the weight of all his grief that convinced him to swear off relationships. Or maybe it was the eccentric way Bartholomew chose to be remembered. The man had a morbid, almost sick sense of humor.

Bartholomew was also a red head, come to think of it. Not like Zephon, though.

Feeling the mattress move as Zephon sat back down brought Mortanius out of his thoughts. He stared at Zephon upsidedown for a second. His expression was hard to read: a little wistful, perplexed, guilty. Without saying anything he rolled off of the bed and moved to relieve himself. Hopefully Zephon did not peer too closely. As Mortanius walked away Zephon noticed another tattoo. On his back, it was impossible to miss. A complex rendering of the Wheel of Fate, a work stabbed into his flesh through centuries of anguish. In spite of its intricacy the piece clearly wasn't intended to be viewed. Mortanius dressed conservatively at all times.

Zephon couldn't help but notice. Tattoos were not... Well, not exactly common in Nosgoth. There were few cases where even he saw them; often times their nature was ritualistic or ceremonial in origin. Not always, but few people decided it was worth the pain agony and time it took to make such immaculate changes to one's body.

And that was coming from him.

Zephon turned away from the tattoo when he noticed how long he was staring. Zephon didn't openly like oggling people when they could not see him. It came with the profession, of course, but he wasn't on duty for the moment... Speaking of which, he should do something about those weapons, shouldn't he?

The Sarafan bent down to properly untagle the various harnesses, belts, hilts, and their weapons and slide a choice few under the bed, a few of the smaller ones (and the caltrops) he kept above on the night-stand. No sense in not being prepared... Just in case. Silently he moved back into the bed, straightening out the blankets and waiting, a tad bit eagerly, for Mortanius to return.

Mortanius looked even more pensive as he came back to bed. This time he felt certain Zephon would notice he had something on his mind, but it wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to comment about. Bringing up past lovers was a bad way to begin a new relationship. Instead he crawled into bed and snugly wrapped Zephon in his arms.

Zephon smiled and pulled Mortanius closer. "Heh... I'm happy to see my... Comment earlier didn't endear you any less to me." By the Wheel he hoped. Wait..

Zephon's face fell. "... Are... Are you alright?" he asked.

He leaned his head on Zephon's shoulder, considering how best to answer that question. While he certainly felt sad he found that grief did not diminish the pleasure of lying with a valued companion. Some hope in that.

"Do you know why I said I could be the one who understands you?" he asked quietly, looking up at him openly. "I also have scars. A lot of scars. The Pillars are divine, ineffable - but my feet are made of the same clay as yours. I don't expect you to be perfect. I hope you feel the same way about me, because I know I cannot be."

Zephon let out a sigh of relief and squeezed Mortanius a bit. "I understand," he murmured. "Although I haven't found something about you that isn't... Well. Fatally flawed, I know, in time, I'll probably come to find them." He, however, would do his best not to go looking for it. He was bad about finding every little horrible thing out.

He let out a tired yawn and readjusted himself. "So... This was... This was a fair night?"

Mortanius shifted and nuzzled into the cozy space between Zephon's neck and shoulder. It felt good to know he would not need to fly come morning, good to know that Zephon shared his appreciation for these tender moments after sex. They could sleep late until the sun's warmth enveloped them. By way of answer, he said, "I want you to stay tomorrow. I'll think of an excuse to cover your absence when we return. We can spend the whole day together."

There would be few opportunities for that when they returned to the stronghold. They were both busy men. His relationship with Bartholomew involved a lot of note passing and sleepless nights due to their overloaded schedules. Some weeks it was all they could do simply to eat lunch together. If his time with Zephon ended shortly, he wanted to have at least one good day with him.

Zephon let out a noise of.... Well, it seemed excited. "I can think of several excuses," he promised. "I'll... Find a way to send a message back to the Stronghold tomorrow. We should come up with a consistent story."

A smile spread across the Death Guardian's face. For the first time in memory he felt suddenly, very plainly happy; the short of joy that children feel when they're hoisted onto a grown-up's shoulders and spun around. He felt so giddy it embarrassed him. Unable to speak, he wrapped his arm around Zephon's chest and squeezed him.

Zephon responded in kind with a surprised laugh and squeezing Mortanius back again. He was happy his inexperience with relationships or sex didn't turn Mortanius away from him, like he thought it would have. If anything, Zephon learned that this sort of thing would be new any time you started this sort of relationships.

Tonight; they were both inexperienced with each other. Inexperienced, awkward, but great.

Zephon didn't even mind how Mortanius was touching his back.

Mortanius cupped his face and kissed him like he did on the hilltop. He wanted to make love to him again, right now, but it was perhaps fortunate that his body was not as willing as his heart.

"I want to teach you things. In the morning. We'll have fun together. I'll show you how to do that thing I did for you." He paused to kiss Zephon's jaw and reconsidered his words. That might be intimidating. "Beginner's course, obviously. Then we can eat breakfast together and go see the festival. Mmm, maybe skip breakfast. I'm sure there will be all kinds of food there. Music and dancing."

Zephon laughed again. "How long are we staying here?" he asked. "And don't worry- I'll likely be up well before you are!" Or maybe he wouldn't be? Wheel be praised. What was Mortanius' usual routine like?

Mortanius kept kissing him. He started to slow down a little, if only because of lack of focus. So much to think about. "Through the festival. Watch the effigy burning at sunset, spend another night at the inn, ride home in the morning. I suppose we could stay... maybe one extra day, if we want to? Is there anything pressing on your schedule?"

He scratched at his beard. Moebius could hold things down without him for one more day. When it came to his brother he usually assumed everything was proceeding according to plan, so if they did stay an extra day he doubted it would surprise him (though he was probably annoyed about it already).

Zephon sighed. "Too much," he said. "Provided; most my job recently revolves around you getting back safely... So..." he hums. "Maybe we should go to the university. Create an alibi." He then paused. "Unless being there would tip off somone you do not want to know..."

"No, that would take too long. We only need an alibi to fool the inquisitors and they're too busy to look into it. The Circle respects my privacy as long as I don't strain their trust too far. And Moebius knows when I'm going to wipe my ass so," he shrugged, "try not to worry about him. Keeping secrets is what he does."

Zephon paused, realization dawning over him.

"Moebius knows."

He throws his head back, going red.

"That's... That explains so much."

That might have been a little too much for him. Regardless, it was a concept he needed to come to terms with if they were going to be comfortable in a relationship. Mortanius leaned his weight against him protectively, looking at him with easy sympathy.

"I'm not suggesting he arranged this. He may tug at a thread here or there for the betterment of Nosgoth but many events are either beyond his control or beneath him to intervene. I remember the first time I fell in love, really in love. I had to accept that I would always be what 'ordinary' people called deviant. Do you know what Moebius did? He smiled at me and he said, 'I knew. I always knew. Didn't care.' He's not such a bad man."

"Oh, no. I'm not-" he pauses. "Well, I am. Sort of..." Zephon wasn't proud to admit it; but often times when he needed some sort of mental edge over someone or something and had no place to turn; he'd turn to Moebius. Moebius was wise beyond his years, but as far as he knew- Moebius only had a few strings attatched to his powers. He'd never tell Zephon what to do or how to do it- but he'd make strong suggestions.

"When I was at the stronghold last night; Moebius was the one who told me you'd not be going to give a lecture, but to escape into a festival... Everything else fell into place afterwards." The bastard was also smiling. Damn him... Also; Wheel bless him.

"Yes, I was wondering about that when you mentioned it. It's unlike him to be so forward." Hard to say what that was all about. Even if he asked he knew Moebius would not answer him truthfully. Having Moebius as a brother meant accepting that truth was a luxury. Since Moebius had been involved with Zephon from a young age, Mortanius always suspected that he was in some manner touched by fate. That could be a good thing - or it could be devastating. Mortanius' expression fell. Death was always on his mind.

"I did not mean to imply, by the way, that you or I are in fact deviant," he said, changing the subject. "There are a lot of people like us, men and women, others. A lot of them in the Order, actually. Nosgoth on the whole is less tolerant than I'd prefer. I've heard that this festival is a good place to be for people like us. I'd prefer to see it for myself but... it would be nice, wouldn't it? We could just be ourselves."

Zephon shrugged. "I never thought of you as Deviant," he admitted. "Truth be told, I felt odd and out-of-place because I... Well, saw everyone around me forming relationships and I just... For whatever reason, couldn't." Zephon sighed and relaxed a little bit more. This was the sort of thing he enjoyed speaking of with other people. Personal matters with people he trusted.

"... You... Do know I will keep myself armed tomorrow, yes?" he asked. "Not as heavily as today, but.... Still."

Mortanius bobbed his head on Zephon's chest. "I shall have my spells, of course. I can't very well judge you for being armed when I've always had the security of being able to defend myself at a moment's notice. But it did make me happy that you were able to put them down for tonight."

Zephon let out a sigh of relief and readjusted. He took a moment to switch his side and lay facing Mortanius. "Fair..." he blinks. "...I'm tired..."

Mortanius hummed. With everything about Moebius and tomorrow going through his mind he felt wide awake, but he had his fill of talking. He wrapped his arms around his new lover and softly stroked his fingers through his curly hair. "Thank you, Zephon."

#arachnicianhierophant #v:the crusades (spider bites)#lemon

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that1girloverthere · 6 years

Text

The Changing

Chapter 12

Eric leads me to a set of back doors, when he opens them a cool summer breeze blows over me. I smile and look up at him, seeing a similar expression on his face.

“Where are we headed?” I ask, now convinced that my present isn’t on the Dauntless’ ground.

“Right now, to the train. Overall, you’ll see.” He cracks a mischievous smirk at me and nods his head in the direction of the tracks. “Come on.”

We jog to the tracks, slowing as we get closer. “When’s the train supposed to be here?” I ask, not having mesmerized the train schedules just yet.

“Give it a second.” He says crouching down to touch the railings, he motions me forward with his other hand. “Here, feel.”

I reach down and lay my fingers on the thick metal. A small vibration runs up and through my arm. I glance to my left, searching for any other indication that a train could be near. I don’t spot anything for the first few seconds but then a large, silver blob emerges from over the horizon.

“And there’s our ride.” Eric comments, pointing over my shoulder.

The train barrels towards us, slowing down to barely 14 miles an hour for any passengers to jump on or off. Eric runs first pumping his fists as he takes off, his body even with the locomotive. I follow close behind and watch him easily board, seemingly as easy as taking a step up the stairs. My lungs burn as I grab the handle and thrust myself aboard. I sigh as I sit on the floor, needing a break from the intense minute of running that just took place. Eric follows suit and takes a seat to my right, being closest to the open door.

I grin at him, his hair is slowly coming undone from its normal gelled down appearance, hints of small curls poking through. Partnered with his rare smile he seems younger, or more so his own age, no longer a feared leader but a daredevil 19 year old.

“What?” He asks catching my gaze. I look away, focusing on the passing scenery, heat finding it’s way to my cheeks.

“Nothing.” I say shaking my head.

“No, I think it was something what was it?” He comments, nudging me with his shoulder, causing me to lean over slightly.

I cast him my most deadly glare, hoping he gets the concept that I don’t want to talk about this further, but he only laughs at me.

I sigh and throw my hands in the air with defeat. “Fine.” I say, turning my body to face him as I speak. I feel hyper aware of our knees touching, the warmth of his skin, under his pant leg radiating into me. “I was just thinking you look younger.”

He frowns. “I am young.”

It’s my turn to laugh now as I stare at his confused expression. I shake my head.

“No shit.” I say pushing his arm. “I just mean that you’re always so.. stoic. Even with your friend you always seem so uptight, like you have a mask on. But now you actually look your age. Not so much like a soldier.” I look away from his eyes, feeling like I’ve said too much, pried too far.

He only nods and stays quiet for what seems like the longest moment of my life. I’m reminded by the silence that I am merely and initiate, I have no reason to even be allowed out of the compound. Eric finally meets my gaze, speaking up to say, “Its my job to be a soldier, not to play nice. That’s why in public, with most people, I am a leader and nothing else.” I understand his words and the need for a cover of sorts, a public persona. I nod in understanding. Dauntless is full people who will walk all over you given the chance, you have to be tough to command an army. “However,” He says, turning his body to face me more. “I don’t think that necessarily makes me look 40.” He quirks a smile at his own comment and I giggle.

“I never said you looked 40.”

“Ahh,” He raises his finger in the air. “ But it was implied.” I shake my head, laughing more.

“No, it wasn’t. I just meant that you look different. Not like a normal 19 year old.”

“Mhmm.” He hums, not fully believing me. He turns his head to look out the door and I follow his glance. Decrepit buildings fly past us, the train taking us further than I’ve ever been. I half stand, half shimmy my way to the opening, trying to get closer to the passing scenery. I toss my legs over the side of the cart, letting them hang in the harsh wind, tilting more to the right.

“So.” Eric says, moving to mimic my position. “Tell me about yourself.” He says. I laugh, surprised that Eric, the feared Dauntless leader, wants to talk about anything other than how sloppy my left hook is.

“What do you want to know?” I ask, watching him as he leans back his muscular figure, his end position being fully in his back, staring up at the train’s roof.

“Whatever you’ll tell me.” He replies, not giving me much to go off of. I grown inwardly.

“Um, Okay.” I rack my brain for anything to tell him, forgetting everything about myself. “When I was five I broke my toe.” I say.

He lifts his head slightly, giving me an unreadable glare. “How?” He questions.

“Well,” I say, picking lint off of my shirt. “I was helping this old lady carry her groceries to her house, I was only carrying the bread, but I still felt like I had the most important job in the world.” I smile at the thought. “Anyways, I was walking down the streets, and there was a huge pothole in front of me. I was so infatuated with this damn loft of bread and keeping it safe that I walked straight into the hole. I inevitably fell on my face, somehow in the process breaking my toe on my right foot and smashing the bread.” He laughs beside me. “I just remember crying and having to be taken to the hospital in Erudite. I think that my mom even bought the lady a new loft of bread when we got home.” This causes him to laugh even more, sitting up to face me.

“Sometimes I forget you were a Stiff.” He says smiling at me.

I grin, unsure of how to reply to his comment. “You’re turn. Tell me something about you.” I comment.

He shrugs his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’ll tell me.” I say mimicking his earlier comment. I face the outdoors again, the sun blinding me in the process.

“My favorite color is black.” He says. I scoff at his so called admittance, my head snapping to face him.

“No.” I shake my head.

“What?” He questions, acting as if he doesn’t realize this isn’t how this ‘game’ is going.

“That doesn’t mean anything, or tell me anything about you. Try again.” I says, waving my hand at him.

He sighs, “Fine.” He stays quiet for a moment, and I hope it’s because he’s thinking of a legitimate confession.

He stands abruptly, dusting off the nonexistent dirt from his pants. I stare up at him.

“It’s time to jump off.” He says.

If he thinks he’s getting out is telling me something he’s wrong.

•••

We walk for what feels like hours but when I glance at my watch it’s only been 10 minutes. The heat of the soon to be setting sun burns down on me, hitting my back.

“You promise you’re not taking me somewhere just to murder me, and then dump my body?” I ask Eric, breaking the silence that had fallen over us since we jumped from the train, only half joking. He chuckles from beside me. He still keeps his rigid posture, and other than his hair which has managed to get even messier in our travel, one would never have been able to notice that we’ve been walking for so long just by looking at him. I however must look the complete opposite, I feel myself slouching more by the minute and my back and neck hold a thin sheet of sweat over them.

“No I won’t murder you. Just give it a minute.” He says, looking over at me, one eye squinting in order to block out the sun. “Better yet,” He interjects. “Close your eyes.” I look at him like he’s crazy.

“Why?” I ask, my voice notably higher than it was moments ago. I trust Eric, at least enough to bring me into the middle of nowhere with only a small book bag slung over his shoulder, but even now I could escape. I could run to the train, or if need be further into the ruins. But with my eyes closed I lose my small edge on him. I shrug my shoulders, figuring that I’m just paranoid, that I should put my faith in him. Sighing loudly I concede.

“Fine.” I say, and place my hand over my eyes, my vision becomes one blurry black and red blob. I feel Eric wrap his arm over my shoulder in an effort to guide me.

We continue our walk for a few more minutes before we come to a stop, I have the urge to uncover my eyes but I decided quickly that it would be best to just wait for Eric to give me the go ahead.

“So,” he speaks from beside me, his voice seemingly deeper with his proximity, a smile finds its way to my face.

“Yes?” I ask.

“You’re not afraid of heights right?” He asks and I gasp, nearly lowering my hand to see just what could be in front of me. However my wrist is gripped tightly and held in place before I can go through with my actions.

“Ah, ah, ah,” He says chastising me like a toddler. “Answer the question first.”

Impatience flares up inside me and I want nothing more than to see what I know must be in front of me.

“No, I’m not afraid of heights.”

He sighs, his chest loosening next to me. “Perfect.” He says, slowly lessening his grip on my hand. “Because if you were than this would have never worked.” With this he releases my hand and I let it fall.

It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden change of light and I stare up in front of me. A large building unlike any other I’ve ever seen stands before me, it’s nearly completely intact windows gleam the sun’s setting rays at me and I swear I must squeal. I turn to face Eric a wild smile on my face, astonishment and admiration coarse through my veins.

“You did not!” I nearly scream.

He gives me a cocky smirk, knowing he did well, but I don’t even mind his silent boasting. “Oh my gosh!” I say facing the magnificent building again for a second before I bring my attention back to him. “This is amazing thank you.” I say and give him a hug. He tenses up under me but only for a short period of time, quickly relaxing into the display of gratitude, hugging me momentarily back. When I pull away I’m sure that my cheeks must be blushing because I can feel the heat that has begun to reside there, but I don’t care.

“Can we go in now?” I ask, already starting to walk closer to the building. He simply nods and gives me a full toothed smile.

“Go ahead.” He says.

•••

Eric -being who he is- has already turned on an elevator so once we entered the building we were able to make it to the top floor no problem. The inside of the building is cleared, but debris is piled in the corners of the room. The elevator ride is a short and silent one, full of me tapping my fingers on my leg, and rocking back and forth on my heels. Anticipation coursing through my veins.

The elevator doors open with a ‘bing’ and I’m the first one out. As I walk into the room my jaw drops. The entire wall in front of me is composed of glass panels, allowing us to see over the entire city, with a gorgeous sunset above. I let my fingers touch the window, as if I’d be able to feel the sun and wind from the outside in. I’m nearly lost in the sights when Eric clears his throat from behind me. I turn around and am greeted by a picnic set up.

A thin black and gray blanket is draped over the floor, on top of it sits sandwiches, a thermos, and bottles of water. I smile down at his figure, him matching my expression. I take my seat, my arm brushing Eric’s as I do.

“So.” He says, facing me. “Good present? Or what?”

“It’s amazing. Honestly.” I say and reach for a sandwich, taking a bite of the somehow cool peanut butter and jelly.

He nods, styling a smug smile. In the time that it’s taken us to get to the top floor and eating he has managed to tame his hair back to its original state. I internally curse him for it.

“We have this place for an hour, but after that trainees are going to use it as a mock-raiding facility.” I sigh, disappointed but understanding that it’s impossible for us to have such a building to ourselves.

“What the scary Dauntless leader couldn’t get the place for any longer.” I tease him.

He shakes his head at me. “First of all, I’m not scary, at least you haven’t seen be be scary. And secondly, we could have had the place longer but you took forever to take down Tristan.”

I scoff, pushing his shoulder lightly. “That’s such a lie! I took him down in no time. He could barely touch me!”

“Yeah and that’s why you have this.” He says and reaches to touch my jaw. His calloused fingers lightly graze my bruised skin, causing a tingle of pain to shoot through me. I wince slightly but don’t move away.

“Casualties.” I say, my voice barely a whisper. In seconds Eric has moved forward, his breath coating my face with each exhale. He moves his hand from my jaw down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His fingers play with my collarbone, dancing over it gently.

If we were in Abnegation right now we would have been caught and punished by now. My breath hitches when he makes his way back up, stoping when his hand has reached the back of my neck, grasping my hair slightly. My heart rate is so fast that I feel like I might explode.

Against my brain’s better judgement I move in further, staring into his steel grey eyes, the irises growing darker and wider by the second. His lips graze against mine and another round of chills washes over me.

“Eric?” I squeak, brushing closer to his, but stiff in every other way.

“Mhmm?”

“You know how you said you weren’t scary?”

“I can recall that yeah.” He replies, his other hand now coming to grip my waist, pulling me towards him.

“Well that’s a lie.” With this I summon all of my courage, pushing away the strict upbringing I’ve been through. I push my lips against his, unskillfully trying to get closer.

He grabs me and places me on top of his lap, so I’m straddling him, he kisses me deeper, more skilled than I. A soft moan escapes me when he bites my lower lip, his tongue gaining entry to my mouth.

I push myself further into him, not allowing a single inch to be left between us. My fingers run through his hair. Though his skin is touching mine, burning through me, I can’t get close enough. He grunts and something runs through me, heat coursing over my body. I pull away, needing air but feeling scared of going too far, too far that I can’t come back. He looks up at me lust glazing his eyes over.

“I don’t want to go too fast.” I whisper, nuzzling my head into the gap between his shoulder and neck.

He plants a gentle kiss into my hair. “Okay. We can do this however you like.” I nod and place a small kiss onto his neck. I take a deep breath and wrap my arms around him fully, pulling him flush with my body.

I know. I KNOW! It’s been FOREVER!!

But I’m here now and I hope you enjoyed! I’m already working on the next chapter, and this upcoming week should be way calmer than the last few that I’ve been having.

Love you all! Thank you for the support it means everything to me.

Remember requests are open so hit me up if you have anything you want me to write!!

#divergent #divergent fanfiction #eric coulter #eyre asher #thechanging #jai courtney #my fic #tobias eaton #tris prior #divergent eric #fluffy #eric coulter fluff

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make-me-imagine · 7 years

Text

Ready

Description: The reader and Eliot aren’t dating but love each other and are oblivious to the others feelings and the reader goes on a date with some guy and Eliot gets really jealous.

Characters: Eliot Spencer x Reader

Gender: Any

Words: 1,865 - This is my longest one yet!

This was Requested by anon

Eliot was watching you closely as you were talking with some guy. You were laughing at something he said as you grabbed his arm, classic sign of attraction. Eliots heart clenched, he hating seeing you with someone else, but maybe nothing would come of it.

Standing in front of Trevor he was making you laugh, he had brought up something that had happened in High School. When you and the team were getting ready for a con, you had run into Trevor. You hadn’t seen each other in years. You dated in High School and broke up when he moved away.

When you had to leave Trevor asked you on a date. You hesitated briefly, your mind wandering to Eliot. You had liked him for so long, sometimes you thought you even loved him, but he never seemed to feel the same. You were getting tired of Eliot never noticing how you acted around him, so you said yes.

Getting into Eliots car driving to the pub Eliot cleared his throat “So, who was that guy?” he glanced over at you. Maybe he was no one.

“His name is Trevor, we dated in High School. I hadn’t seen him in years.” You watched Eliot closely, trying to see if he actually cared, but Eliot was good at hiding his emotions so you couldn’t tell.

This news only gave him a little relief, maybe you were just catching up, but what if it was more than that? Eliot was torn between admitting his feelings and keeping them hidden. Sure he’s had a lot of relationships, but you were different, he could actually picture himself spending the rest of his life with you, if he hadn’t pushed you away already.

He didn’t have time to make up his mind about telling you, you made it to the Pub. You were getting ready for the latest con, you were going to break into an office building. You needed to find a file with the names of your marks business partners. You were going after all of them.

You couldn’t get to the floor normally so you and Parker had to shimmy through the air ducts. Eliot had run into some security guards, all you could hear in your ear piece was punching and grunting. You always worried about him, he could clearly take care of himself but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

After you had successfully gotten into the room, Parker was getting the file while you were watching the door. This was taking longer than you wanted, tonight was suppose to be your date with Trevor. Apparently this thought had crossed Sophies mind as well. “How much longer guys? We need to make sure y/n makes it to their date.” you froze in your place.

“Date?!” came from Hardison, Parker and Eliot simultaneously.

“Sophie I told you that in secret.” you turned to Parker telling her to continue her search for the file.

“Oops” she said, hardly sincere. She new about your feelings for Eliot, and she new about Eliots feelings for you. Maybe he would confront you about the date and you two would finally stop dancing around each other.

“Lets not focus on that right now, we need to finish the job, then y/n can go on their date.” Nate broke in thankfully.

After you got the file and made your escape you were back at the loft. Hoping no one would bring up Sophies announcement you were disappointed when Eliot spoke up first. “Date huh? You didn’t mention that when I asked who that guy was. It is Trevor your going on the date with right?”

Looking at Eliot you could have sworn you saw jealousy on his face..or maybe it was anger, for not telling him “You only asked me who he was, not what happened when we talked.”

Before he could respond Hardison broke in “And you didn’t think to mention it to me? Your best friend? Where is the trust?”

You rolled your eyes at him “It didn’t come up.”

Parker sat down next to you “But it came up with Sophie?”

Sophie broke in this time “y/n asked Nate how long the con would take, I was curious as to why, since they've never cared before. So I asked them, that is the different between why I knew and none of you did.”

Eliot put the ice pack on his face and looked over at you, you looked uncomfortable with the attention so he decided not to bother you about it anymore, he was too late anyway.

You get up from your seat “Are we done interrogating me yet? I have to get ready.” you didn’t wait for a response as you were half way out the door.

After getting ready you met up with Trevor. It was a fun date, but...he was exactly the same as he was in High School. To some this would be a good thing, but it wasn’t. When you were in High School he was childish, you loved that about him. But that was then, you were grown ups now, and though you don’t mind childishness, it seemed to be the entirety of his personality. He barely even asked about what happened to you after he moved.

During the date you caught a reflection in the window, turning quickly you look around, you swore you saw Eliot. “What is it?” Trevor asked looking around too.

“Nothing, sorry, I thought I saw someone is all.” you smiled at him.

“Well there are a lot of people here y/n.” he laughed at his own joke.

Eliot had gotten too close. He heard you laugh and needed to hear what you were talking about, as he was moving closer he saw you see him in the reflection of the glass. Quickly he moved and hid behind a wall, he was waiting for you to come look for him and confront him but instead he heard you continue your conversation with Trevor. ‘Maybe the didn’t actually see me’ he thought to himself hopefully.

Throughout the rest of the date you kept eyeing the reflections around the restaurant. You knew Eliot was here, but why? Was he being protective, did he find something out about Trevor? Was he jealous? You were so preoccupied with your thoughts you had forgotten Trevor was talking to you. You thought he heard you ask a question and breaking out of your daydream you saw him looking at you expectantly. “Sorry! Could you repeat the question, I don’t think I heard you correctly.” you feigned innocence.

Smiling he asked you again “I asked if you wanted to do this again?” there it was, you were waiting for that. Luckily you had an excuse to say no, at least for now “Sorry Trevor, I didn’t mention in before but I’m actually going out of town in a couple days, but maybe when I get back.”

He shook his head at you “Sure, where are you going? And how long are you gonna be gone?”

You and the team were flying to Maine for the con in a few days “Maine, but I’m not sure how long I will be there. It’s a work thing.” he nodded in response.

The date had finally ended much to your relief. You had grown tired of having to fake laugh at all of his jokes. Eliot was relieved too, he had managed to get close enough to hear the conversation without you seeing him. When you were parting ways Trevor tried to kiss you, Eliot had to stop himself from interrupting, but luckily for him, you stopped it. You turned your face as he kissed your cheek instead. He smiled “No kiss on the first date then?” you nodded you head at him. “Alright, next time then” he winked at you.

You waited until Trevor was gone to confront Eliot, you ad come separately since you and Trevor lived in different parts of the city. When you were waiting for the bill you heard a waiter ask someone if they wanted another drink, you recognized Eliots voice as he responded. You knew he was still here. You were mad that he was spying on you but mostly curious as to why. You pretended to walk towards your car but stopped around the corner, you knew Eliot would make sure you got into your car safely. As he came around the corner he almost ran into you “Jesus!” he jumped.

“Looking for someone Eliot?” you had your arms crossed.

Sighing he leaned against the wall next to you “So you did see me.” he rubbed the back of his head, what was he gonna say?

“Why did you follow me Eliot?”

“I-I don’t know.” you rolled your eyes at this as you started to walk towards your car. “Fine! Fine..” you stopped, turning towards him. “I..was jealous.”

You stood their surprised, jealous? That was the response you wanted, but not what you were expecting. “Jealous? That I was on a date? Why?” you had approached him now.

“I know I’m good at hiding my feelings y/n I wish I wasn’t. I’ve been trying to convince myself to ask you out for a while now. But I’ve been a coward.” he was trying his hardest to avoid your gaze.

You had mixed emotions about this, you were surprised, happy and mad “You’ve had relationships before Eliot, a lot actually, why am I any different, what stopped you?” you only had a few relationships in your life, you weren’t good at showing your feelings but Eliot had done it so many times before.

“Your different y/n, I never wanted to stay in those relationships. Your the first person I’ve been afraid of losing, of hurting” he got quiet as he continues “Your the first person I’ve wanted to spend my life with. And I was scared of that, I was scared to tell you, in case you-” he was so afraid that you didn’t want what he did

You knew what he was going to say, he was afraid of the same thing you were “in case you thought I didn’t feel the same” he looked up at you. “I was afraid of the same thing, but the difference between us is that you are much better at hiding it, that’s why I said yes to Trevor. I was tired of waiting for...us”

You felt the same? How could he be so stupid. “I’m sorry y/n. But I’m here now and I’m ready for us if you are.” he inched closer to you, his face so close to yours. He was staring into your eyes.

You smiled at him “I am ready.” as soon as the words left your mouth he kissed you. You wrapped your arms around your neck as he pulled you as close to him as he could. The kiss was desperate and perfect. The kiss was a hundred words left unsaid, so many emotions finally able to be seen. You were no longer scared of a relationship with Eliot Spencer, you knew he would keep you safe, you knew he would make you happy. You were ready.

#leverage #eliot spencer #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer oneshot #leverage oneshot #oneshot #one shot #requested #christian kane #leverage x reader #eliot #eliot x reader #eliot oneshot

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grumpyzutara · 7 years

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Youth - T

The couple from Unexpected Visits returns that Saturday to dance away their youth. Will they get jiggy with it? I should also preface by saying I've gone to like 3 bars in my life and 0 with a date. While I'm of age, bars are not my scene. So take the below with a grain of salt.

My Uber will be here in a minute, then we'll be on our way to the bar. See you there! ;) -K

Emojis were never Zuko's strong suit. He could figure out what the basic ones meant, but a winky face emoji? That could mean a hundred different things! And he definitely didn't know what Katara's text meant. Well he knew what she was saying, but what did she mean? Why did she include that? Did she send that to everyone?

Then came the issue of how to respond. After multiple drafts, Zuko finally sent his text back.

Great. I'm just around the corner. -Z

Sure it was short and simple, but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. There had been a few texts back and forth throughout the week, mainly initiated from Katara.

They learned they both went to the same college (not surprising) and regularly had classes in the same building (very surprising). Zuko was working on a business major and Katara was studying civil law but their gen-ed classes were in the same building. Most surprising was that even though they were 2 years apart, Katara at 21 and Zuko about to turn 23, they had similar hour credits due to Zuko's delayed start.

Oh my gosh, this Uber is the best! He has Jolly Ranchers and rope lights on the inside! -K

Are you sure that's safe to eat? If you're hungry I'm pretty sure the bar has chips and salsa – Z

No time for eating, just dancing! Well and talking I told you I'm bringing friends right? -K

I think you've mentioned it multiple times now. Don't worry. I don't always go to bars by myself. I know how to deal with groups. - Z

Katara didn't have time to respond before they arrived outside the bar with Zuko in sight. Katara piled out with 2 other friends and headed for him.

Zuko was nervous when he saw her two girl friends get out of the car. If he had any hope of dating Katara, he obviously had to win their approval. Then again, he wasn't even sure if Katara liked him or was just taking pity on him.

"I hope you weren't waiting for us too long, but I saved you a Jolly Rancher. I hope you like strawberry." Katara gave him a warm smile before offering him the red candy.

"Thank you. It's one of my favorites." Even if he didn't care for that flavor, Zuko would have taken it. "There isn't a line to get in so we should go while we can," Zuko said before putting the candy in his mouth. He didn't want it to get sticky in his pocket. On the way inside, Katara tried introduce her friends but Toph had other ideas.

"My eye sight is beyond bad so you're going to be my escort tonight," Toph gruffly said before hooking her arm through his and started walking toward the entrance.

"That's Toph for you. I'm Suki," the other woman said from behind Zuko. The bar was half full and they were able to grab a high top table between the bar and the dance area easily.

"You guys can stay here, I'll go order the first round," Zuko said. The girls gave their order and he walked away. He was surprised that just after he placed the order, Katara appeared by his side.

"You'll need help carrying the drinks. Plus, we haven't really said hi. I'm glad you showed up."

Again, Zuko was at a loss for words. It seemed that Katara was interested in him, but it could be that she was just a nice person. "Thank you for inviting me out. I hope you and your friends have fun time tonight."

Just then their drinks were ready. A craft beer for Suki, a long island for Toph, whiskey on the rocks for Zuko and a fruity blue drink for Katara.

"Well I hope you'll save a few dances for me," Katara said, winking before taking two drinks and walking away.

Ok.

Ok. Ya. So Katara was definitely sending "I'm interested" vibes. Zuko had to remember what he was doing for a second before grabbing the other drinks and following after. Now came the question of how to show he was interested as well. By the time Zuko caught up to the table, the girls were into a discussion of a test they had on Thursday. The scores had just been posted online.

"I don't want to hear it Katara, you're the one that screws up the curve every time," Suki complained.

"Fine, then let's drop the school topic. Who want's to join me for the next good song?" Katara looked around at the group. Toph said she wasn't buzzed enough and Suki said she wanted to wait a few songs until Sokka showed up. Zuko didn't know who Sokka was but he took that it was her significant other.

Not wanting to leave Katara hanging for a dance partner and seeing it as a good chance to make his intentions known, he answered, "Uh, I'll join you." He almost added that he wasn't that good at dancing, especially with a girl, but that was a minor detail.

Katara's smile was brighter than the strobe lights. "I want to wait until they play something I know so we have time to drink a little more."

They didn't have to wait long. Zuko finished off his drink as Katara started to drag him out. Her hips were grinding on him before he could ask her how she wanted to dance. He let his hands go to her waist and tried to match her rhythm. Their side to side sway kept them going through the song and into the next. His hands never staying from her waist, though he thought about it. Her hands were everywhere. On his thighs, covering his hands, on his forearms – and he loved her touch.

They took a break after the 2nd song, plus Katara still had her drink to finish before it got watered down.

"Man, it's already getting warm in here!" Katara shouted as they approached the table, "They should open up the main doors and bring in that cool air."

"I don't know Katara, it's not that hot in here to me," Toph said, smirking.

"I don't know Toph, maybe it's just warmer on the dance floor than over here?" Suki joined in. Obviously, the pair were ganging up on their close dancing. But Zuko didn't care. He had a great time out there. Even if Katara didn't dance with him again for the night, he would still be able to leave happy.

Zuko stood near Katara, with a hand at the small of her back. While the girls talked, he was enjoying just being a part of a group. He hardly felt like the odd man out.

"I'm going to order another round, anyone ready for theirs? I'm buying," Katara asked. Toph was still working on her drink and Suki shook her head even though she was looking down at her phone.

"I'll go with you. I want to order some nachos." Zuko started to step away from the table but stopped once he heard Katara yell a name.

"Sokka! Over here!" Katara took a few steps to the bar but pointed in their table's direction. It was easy to tell once Sokka was in view that he was Katara's brother; their appearance was so similar. "I'll introduce you to him late, let's go get those drinks now." She threaded her arm through his and pulled him away.

While they waited for their drinks and snack, Zuko tried to start conversation with Katara. "So are you related to that Sokka guy?"

Katara thought she was being subtle as she bumped her shoulder into his arm, "Ya, he's my brother. He's pretty cool. Don't worry if he gives you a hard time."

"Why would he give me a hard time?" Now he was starting to get worried.

"Well, cause we're, you know," Katara's words were accompanied by a shoulder shimmy.

"Uhh," came Zuko's intelligent reply.

Katara looked him in the eye with a serious look on her face, "Dance partners, duh." Zuko tried to stop it, but he could feel his face fall at the news. He was hoping she would say a different answer. But then she busted out laughing, "Oh Zuko, I'm sorry, that was mean of me. Obviously there's this buzz between us. Sokka will give you a hard time because he knows I want to go on a date with you. One where my friends aren't invited."

"Oh, ok, ya, that-that sounds great actually! Well not the part about your brother, but going on a date." Zuko gave her a smile, possibly the first of the night.

She leaned over to give his good cheek a kiss. "Then let's get back to the table and get back to dancing!"

Katara carried the drinks while Zuko ate a few nachos along the way. The moment their things were set down, Sokka introduced himself but he only had a second before Katara wanted back on the floor for her favorite song.

Hips grinding and her hands moving, Zuko was in bliss.

"You know, you can move your hands on me," Katara had tilted her head back so he could hear her over the music.

Moving his hands from her waist felt like going into uncharted territory, but he was eager to put on his explorer's hat. Slowly, he rubbed his hands along her shirt until he hit her jeans. He kept his slow pace even though their hips were doing double time. It wasn't long before Katara snaked a hand up to hold on to his neck, hips pressing harder.

And that's how they danced the night away. Always touching. Even when they stopped for a break, Zuko would have his arm around her shoulders or Katara would sneak a hand into one of his jean back pockets. When they end of the night came, Zuko waited for their Uber ride showed up before walking around the corner to his place. Still thinking of the kiss goodnight she gave minutes ago.

He felt like a teenage boy, getting so worked up after one night. But man, was it a night. With the promise of brunch tomorrow too.

#official zutara month #zutara month 2016 #zutara fanfiction #day 27 youth #dancing

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floraexplorer · 6 years

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Sailing Mallorca with InAdventures: The Floating Retreat I Didn’t Know I Needed

One morning in Mallorca, I am staring upside down at the Mediterranean sea.

The calm voice of our yoga instructor tells us to step out of Downward Dog and into the next pose. As my body rights itself on the slowly rocking deck of the boat, I have to concentrate hard to ground myself in the practice.

It’s understandably difficult when you bear in mind where I am. Standing on the prow of a small yacht in the middle of the Med is undoubtedly one of the strangest places I’ve ever practiced yoga – and yet for the past few days, it’s been the way each of my mornings have begun.

A post shared by CARA LOUISE / / (@cgypsyy) on Jun 18, 2018 at 10:25am PDT

I’m not the most likely traveller to spend a week on a yacht.

Boats are not my forte. Growing up I was always scared of waves, and used to cry when my parents suggested going to the sea. Even after snorkelling with sharks in the Galapagos and going scuba diving in Australia, I still have a healthy respect for open water. Something about its hidden depths and the sudden sense of how comparatively small I am makes it hard to enjoy boat life.

Yet I still agreed to live onboard a boat owned by a Spaniard for five days as it sailed around Mallorca. Why?

Well for starters, I’m helplessly in love with Spain, and every opportunity I have to travel there is a joy. But I also wanted to challenge both my sailing concerns and the preconceptions I have about all-inclusive boat trips like this one with InAdventures Travel.

(Photo courtesy of @FlipAbroad)

My major reservation with the trend for group sailing trips is, honestly, feeling trapped into situations I don’t want to be part of. There’s a reputation for sailing holidays to be wholly focused on getting drunk, and while I do enjoy a drink, feeling obliged to get drunk because it fits the stereotype is not really my idea of fun!

But as soon as I spoke to Pau, the founder and skipper of InAdventures, I got the impression that his sailing company was different. The concept for his trips is to combine sailing, yoga and organic food with outdoor adventuring around the Spanish island of Mallorca: perfect for modern, eco-conscious explorers who want to see a hidden side to the island from a local Mallorcan who loves his home.

I was sold. Both on the trip concept, and on its clearly passionate organiser.

Stepping on board the InAdventures yacht

When going sailing with a bunch of strangers, one of the most important factors is a positive group dynamic. Luckily, the fifteen other writers and photographers were just as keen for a relaxing week as I was.

I’d never met any of them before, but it didn’t take long for the bonding to begin – particularly when a welcome platter served in a paella dish appeared from the galley before we’d even left the harbour.

That first afternoon set the precedent for a week of luxurious sailing. After a quick intro from Pau about what our plans for the next few days would entail, we set sail for open water, zipping through the waves with the engine off, the sails full, and the wind at our back.

What is the InAdventures boat life really like?

As a pretty novice sailor I’d had a few concerns before arriving, but they all vanished once I saw the boat for myself. However, living in a floating home does warrant some crucial lifestyle adjustments:

Cabin space is limited. This means learning to tidy up after yourself and packing away as much of your stuff as possible. Luckily, small boats are filled with hidden cupboards and storage spaces, so if you love organisation as much as I do it’s pretty much a dream scenario! It’s also worth bringing a soft bag – I used an Osprey Fairview 40 pack which was perfect.

Sharing a bed with a stranger is way easier than you’d think! Most of the InAdventures cabins are for two people to share (although you can pay a bit extra for a private cabin) – and as a solo traveller it means immediate bonding times with your lucky cabinmate. I was suspicious about how small the mattress looked, but as soon as I clambered into bed each night, both Daisy (my bed partner) and I were asleep in minutes.

Boats move. A lot. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but leaving valuable objects in perilous positions means they could fall into the ocean and vanish forever. Keeping track of where your belongings are and ensuring they’re stowed safely is paramount.

None of the doors lock. A knock-and-wait system for the bathroom develops pretty immediately as a result, but the quicker you remember this, the better.

Flushing a marine toilet takes practice. Also known as ‘heads’, these tiny toilets require the use of a hand pump in two different directions: one to flush away used dirty water, and the other to rinse off the bowl with clean water. There’s no flushing of anything that you haven’t eaten first, either – that includes toilet paper, which goes in the bin instead.

Saving water is a priority. When the boats leave harbour they have a finite amount of fresh, clean water on board, which is destined for cooking, drinking and washing for the entire length of the voyage. We shut off the taps whenever possible and didn’t shower much (easy when the ocean is right next door for a quick cool-down!)

As I quickly discovered, we barely spent any time below decks. Instead our days were entirely spent outside, either clambering from one boat to the other or adventuring on land.

All of the InAdventures voyages run with two boats in tandem

Want to join the next sailing retreat? Use my code ‘FLORATHEEXPLORER’ for a 5% discount!

Exploring Mallorca’s coastline

Pau didn’t call his company ‘In Adventures’ by accident. In fact, I get the feeling that he perceives being ‘in adventures’ in the same context as being ‘in love’, as every day he had a new Mallorca-based activity on the agenda for us to throw ourselves into.

One morning we hiked along the Mallorcan cliffs next to crystal clear waters, before wriggling into wetsuits and helmets and abseiling our way down towards the sea. I’d been certain that I was too nervous to tackle the abseil, but strangely I found an unexpected surge of confidence – so before I had a chance to back out, I was roped up and shimmying down the side of a cliff.

(Photo courtesy of @MyTravelTricks)

Once we reached the water, our guides surprised us with the exploration of an underground cave. Clinging onto guide ropes suspended in the water, we swam towards a tiny opening in the rocks then inched our way through waterlogged sand until we found ourselves inside a series of huge cathedral-like spaces, carved out naturally over thousands of years and filled to the brim with stalactites.

Whether it was kayaking at sunset, hiking across tiny islands to local lighthouses or simply diving into the ocean from the side of the boats, Pau ensured there was more than enough activity to build up our appetites.

Luxury dining at sea with our private chefs

After our land-and-water-based adventuring, we boarded the boats again for lunch. The amazing food throughout the week was rustled up by Javi and Cara, two chefs who achieved unbelievable culinary feats in the boat’s minuscule kitchen.

With each new meal I had a new appreciation for cooking at sea. We feasted on avocado toast and fresh fruit platters; tapas of pan con tomate, prosciutto, fresh anchovies, and dill-sprinkled smoked salmon; and my personal favourite was a huge seafood paella, accompanied by ice-cold jugs of freshly made gazpacho, which went down a treat.

Finding our balance

By the time each afternoon arrived we naturally gravitated to the prow, chatting and laughing as our boat moved effortlessly through the glass-like sea on its way to our next location for the night.

It was wonderful to realise that a group of people who’d usually revert to their laptops and editing software in their daily lives were actually choosing to relinquish their technological attachments and simply relax together!

But there’s a different energy when you’re on board a boat.

It’s too hot for make up or fancy outfits and there’s no space for pretentious attitudes: instead, you have bare skin and honest conversations with people you’ve only just met.

(Photo courtesy of @FlipAbroad)

I suddenly found myself seeing my own body in a different light, too. I’ve gained a fair bit of grief-weight in the last year, and it was a bit startling to realise I didn’t look how I used to (especially in a bikini).

But bodies can surprise you. On a boat you’re suddenly behaving with pure instinct, reacting to the swells of unexpected waves and the slope of the deck. With no place to hide from my body’s true self on board, I was able to find gratitude for its incredible abilities which I too often take for granted, instead of raging against the things I can’t easily change.

Noticing the sensation of my tensed toes standing firm, grounding themselves against a bone-white boat hull, for instance. Or how I instinctively grasped a sail rope and curled my fingers around it without thinking.

I know next to nothing about boats, so accepting that I had no control while sailing through the sea was actually a well-timed lesson in humility.

I spend too much of my life trying to stay on top of things – but it’s something of a relief to occasionally relinquish all control, and pass that responsibility to someone else. For a while, it leaves you free to simply exist.

Why I loved sailing Mallorca’s seas

After a week at sea with InAdventures, I feel cleansed. Reinvigorated. Ready for the next challenge. Moreover, I think I have a new-found love of sailing – who’d have thought it?!

But I guess my current search for honesty and vulnerability made this trip the perfect place for me to be this summer: being out at sea, at one with nature, and enjoying the experience alongside a group of passionate travellers, too.

(Photo courtesy of @FlipAbroad)

I’ve been back on dry land for over a week, but the ocean is still echoing in my ears. I can still feel my inner compass rocking, making my steps a little shaky on solid ground.

Perhaps I belong back on the boat?

Have you ever rekindled your love of the sea on a trip like this one? Would you like to sail round Mallorca with Pau?

The InAdventures crew still have a few spaces left for their September trips. You can use the code ‘FLORATHEEXPLORER’ for a 5% discount – and tell Pau I sent you!

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queercripbreakfastenthusias-blog · 7 years

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A Thing About the Hospital

This is the seventh time I’ve tried to write this. I don’t really know what I’m trying to do, or if this one will stick, but here it goes.

On the eve of the first day of classes of this semester, I made myself a list of Junior Spring 2017 Semester Goals. With a significant chunk of my closest Bowdoin friends going abroad for the semester, a packed course schedule, and a new year’s resolution to practice radical self care, I knew it was going to be a semester of change, of new challenges, and of pushing myself outside of my comfort zone. In my pre-classes anxiety, I made myself a list of silly, serious, self-indulgent goals to find comfort and excitement in the changes to come.

But in reality, I had no idea what this semester was going to throw at me. Since January, I’ve been dealing with A Series of Unfortunate Medical Events, and I’m choosing to write about it and talk about it openly because that tends to be how I deal and process hard things best. I remember the ordeal in moments, in chunks, like pieces of a puzzle that I haven’t figured out how to solve yet. I’m choosing to share some of the pieces because I love my body. I love the messy reality of it, the fact that it can hug the people I love, that it can learn things that interest me, and take me places I want to see. I’m also terrified of my body—the unpredictability of it, the way it reminds me that we’re small beautiful globs of cells that exist in a universe much bigger and stronger than we are. The experience of this semester encapsulates all of that—the good, the powerful, the scary, the messy, and the imperfections.

To consolidate a month-long ordeal into a few quick sentences, here are the important things to know about what’s been happening with me: In late January/early February, I was hospitalized with a blood infection. The origins of the infection are still unknown, but I received an intensive IV-antibiotic therapy to fight the bacteria. I stayed five days at Mid Coast Hospital for the infection. Sionnain, my magnificent partner, happened to be visiting the day I was hospitalized, and stood by my side through this whole ordeal with endless bravery and love. My kickass mom flew in from New Jersey, and her patience with me and care for me speak volumes of what a fantastic, loving, forgiving parent she is. She bought kinetic sand and a ton of board games at Wal-Mart, and Sionnain and Mom and I built a giant sandcastle in my hospital room in the middle of a blizzard. They supported me, and comforted me, and didn’t laugh (or only laughed a little) when I accidentally flashed an entire hospital hallway with my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles underwear (hospital gowns, am I right?).

About twelve hours after being discharged for the infection, I ended up right back in the hospital with back pain so bad I couldn’t breathe or move or speak. A blood clot stopped the flow of oxygen to a portion of my lung, killing a small section of my right lung. I had a pulmonary embolism, and found out I have a genetic blood clotting disorder. Having an infection, a clotting disorder, and being holed up in a hospital bed—it was the perfect storm of conditions for me to get a blood clot. I spent another four days in the hospital, and then was discharged to re-enter life at Bowdoin. As a physically disabled queer person, my relationship with my body has never been an easy one. The medical stuff hit on a ton of my messy fears related to control over and comfort within my body. To put it simply, this whole ordeal was just that: an ordeal. I cried because of ableist doctors, dealt with homophobic nurses, missed exams, quit a campus job, and had to drop a class. I’m now back in a “normal” Bowdoin routine, and I’ve been slowly regaining my footing. I’ve been contending with the uncomfortable, scary reality that sometimes, we lose control and shitty things happen. There isn’t always a witty punchline or a bright side or a neatly packaged life lesson to take away when something unexpected and hard happens. So that brings me here: to the end of my junior spring, alive and recovering and healthy, which feels miraculous and small and bizarre and normal all at once.

I’m the same person I was on that January night when I wrote these semester goals. However, it would be partially inaccurate to say that things haven’t changed. Taking care of my body means something very different now than it did before this all happened. My body is my home. My body has always been my home that kept me safe for twenty-one years, until suddenly, it didn’t keep me safe anymore. Suddenly, my body threatened me and defied me with clots and bacteria and pain and exhaustion. That was terrifying. But my body is still my home. Just as it fought me, it ultimately protected me. And I forgive my body, because my body allowed me to heal, to survive, and to reach out for the people I love when it felt like my body was betraying me. Now, caring for my body means trusting it, and listening to what it is trying to tell me. It means listening and responding to the pain, the exhaustion, the limits. My body is my home, and homes need upkeep. Homes need repair. This semester, I’ve become a human Home Depot project of restoration and care. I’ve had to ask for help, and it’s been painful, and I’ve made mistakes along the way, but this semester has shown me that my body—my home—has to come first. Rather than making me weak, I think that makes me strong as hell.

When I said that one of my semester goals was to have more dance parties, I didn’t really think that my first dance party of the semester would be the day I was discharged. I was told that in order to prevent more blood clots I needed to be frequently and actively moving, so naturally, on the day I got home Alix and Ethan and Sionnain spun and jumped around my room with me to Blink-182 and ABBA and Cher. Sometimes dance parties look different than you envision. Sometimes goals need amending, and don’t really go as planned. But let me tell you: a dance party is a dance party, whether you’re shimmying your shoulders while hooked up to an IV, or rejoicing in life and health and survival with the people you love. And there is joy in that.

In a lot of ways, things feel different now. Being at Bowdoin feels the same and unknown and confusing all at once. I am learning and re-learning what it means to be alive and take up space on this campus and in this world. I guess I am figuring it out, but honestly, I don’t really know what all of this means or why any of this happened. However, I do know that I am surrounded by people who love me, and help me survive and make sense of it all. Ultimately, that’s what matters. I owe my recovery, and being okay, and becoming more okay every day, to a lot of people. To all of my friends at Bowdoin who fed me snacks and visited me in the hospital. To Clare, for letting me cry on the phone and bringing me a McFlurry in the ER. To Tessa, for making me go to the hospital to begin with, and always knowing what to say, and always showing up in the most important way. To Sydney, for encouraging me to write this. To my Dad and my siblings, for dropping everything and flying to be near me and make me laugh. To my Mom, for staying in Maine for two weeks in the middle of February even though the only shoes she packed were leather clogs, and for letting me be cranky, and for being nice and caring and endlessly supportive even when I acted like a jerk to her. And to Sionnain, for helping me put the puzzle pieces together, for holding my hand and loving me so fiercely through all of it, and for everything. There aren’t enough words to capture how thankful I am.

During the long days in the hospital, Sionnain and I would walk down the endless corridors to keep me moving. She’d wheel my IV pole along, her hand wrapped around it securely as we slowly moved, side by side, through those increasingly familiar hallways. We joked that Sionnain holding my IV pole was like us holding hands—the thin plastic tube and metal pole connected us as we meandered. We would walk down a maze of hallways to the Meditation Room, a small room built for reflection and prayer. It offered a quiet bluish glow, with stained glass, cheesy plastic bird statues, and a loop recording of babbling water. For small moments out of the visibility of the hallways, I could stand in the purple light of that small room, close my eyes, hold Sionnain’s reassuring hand, and find myself away from the hospital chaos. There was a book in the corner that people could sign and leave words of hope or prayers. On the day I was admitted, someone wrote about losing her brother that morning. Ed, we will miss you. The next day, five-year-old Maddie wrote a note welcoming her new baby brother, Collin, into the world. I AM A BIG SESTER.

In the course of this whole event, people have been born, and died, and lost loved ones, and set goals they couldn’t achieve, and gotten diagnoses, and shopped at Home Depot, and seen new places, and eaten McFlurrys, and had dance parties, and built sandcastles in Maine in February. People have laughed, and cried, and figured it out, and gotten in wrong, and made mistakes. I’m still figuring it out, and reminding myself that it’s okay to not really know what I’m doing or why this happened or what it means. I am alive and loved and loving and a beautiful glob of cells that gets to exist in this universe, and that works for me.

#what are you supposed to put down here #disability #queerness #hospital #Cerebral Palsy

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