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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

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Skinship

This one is dedicated to my dear friend and fellow TWST writer, @twstpasta!

Congrats on making it to 3k followers and for making the grand debut of your new blog mascot~ I look forward to seeing your future works, as well as all of the (inevitable) Vil brain rot once your EBG (Extreme Bias Game) is over!

Imagine this...

“Unacceptable.”

“Eh?”

“Your skin,” Vil clarified. “It is simply unacceptable. You don’t truly intend on marching to the opening ceremony looking like that, do you?”

“My...skin?” Your hands subconsciously trailed to your cheeks. “What’s wrong with--”

He cut you off, his pupils dilating in absolute horror. “No...!! Don’t touch your face! Your hands are breeding grounds for all manner of nasty bacteria!”

Your hand jolted away at Vil’s remark. He sighed in relief--but the repose is short-lived.

“You haven’t even properly buffed out the sunscreen along your hairline. See to it that you wash your hands and blend it in. Now.”

“Ah, I must have gotten some grated parmesan on me while I was making my mac ‘n cheese for lunch,” you explained, your expression sheepish. “I only put sunscreen on when I work out, Vil-senpai.”

“Excuse me?!” He brought a finger to his chin and frowned. “I don’t know whether I should be more appalled at the fact that you somehow got cheese in your hair or at the fact that you scarcely wear sun protection...What, if I may ask, does your typical skincare routine look like?”

“I splash water on my face once in the morning and once at night. And I already told you about the sunscreen when I exercise.”

“...That is all?”

“Yup.”

Vil cradled his head in his hands.

“...Sit.”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” You seated yourself on a sofa and glanced up at your senpai. “But won’t we be late for the ceremony if we wait around for too long?”

“It will only take a few minutes,” Vil insisted with a dismissive wave. “I will be right back.”

The Pomefiore dorm leader swept out of the room, his dark sleeves billowing out behind him. The intricate golden designs on his robes seem to twinkle and dance under the lights.

He soon reappeared with a tray--upon it, a few towels, several small bowls of water, and an assortment of containers. Vil sat down beside you, placing the tray on a low coffee table.

“We can’t have you going out looking a mess,” he declared, “so I shall be giving you a quick facial.”

“Whoa, really? Thank you so much for this, senpai.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The magic has yet to start.”

He took a pump of soap, working it into a rich lather, then dipped his hands into a bowl of water and patted dry with a towel. Vil dispensed a viscous substance from another bottle and swiped it on your face--from your chin to your forehead, massaging in circles.

“What’s this slick stuff? Moisturizer?”

“It’s an oil-based cleanser,” Vil corrected, “Listen well, potato. There are three essential steps to every skincare routine--the first is cleansing.”

“But I’ve already washed my face today.”

“We need to break down your sunscreen first before we apply more product,” Vil chided, wetting his hands again before running them across your cheeks. “Next is a water-based cleanser.”

He popped open a tube and squeezed out a coin-sized amount. Rubbing his hands together produced fine suds.

“You’re washing my face again?” you asked, giggling while Vil worked the product onto your face. The lather tickled a bit—and it smelled like a field full of raspberries, bright and bursting with sunshine.

“Skin has both fat and water. Therefore, you should wash once with an oil to bind to oils, and water to bind to water—this will give you a thorough cleanse.”

Vil’s words were stern, but his touch remained gentle. Even as he chastised you, you could not help but indulge in the moment, melting in his voice—rich and velvety and decadent.

Hehe...like mac ‘n cheese...

You could feel a trickle of drool forming in the corner of your mouth.

“...45 to 60 seconds washing with each cleanser,” Vil recited in a murmur. “Upward and outward circular motions to promote lymphatic drainage, and to keep the skin from sagging. Be sure to exfoliate at least once a week...Are you listening to a word of what I’m saying, potato?”

“Huh? Uh...yeah, yeah, I’m listening.”

“Hmmm.”

“I-I swear I am!”

“Pop quiz, then. How many steps are there in a basic skincare routine?”

“Three! Four if you count washing twice!”

Vil cracked a small smile. “Excellent. I expected nothing less from you.”

He moistened his hands again and removed the bubbles on your face . Then Vil patted you down with a towel, leaving your skin just a bit damp.

“The next step is moisturizer. Normally, I would have you apply a toner, essence, and serum first, but we do not have the time for that.”

Vil unscrewed the cap on a tall, frosted glass bottle. The contents were pure white, sloshing around like melted snow

“Isn’t moisturizer usually like...lotions and stuff? That doesn’t look like a lotion to me.”

“This is a 2-in-1 toner and moisturizer. Cream skin,” he explained, carefully pressing the product onto cheeks and forehead.

Ah.

His fingers. They were so plush, so soft through the thin slip of the product—like clouds brushing against your face, planting dew drop kisses.

Your eyes drifted shut for a few moments, relishing in the feel of him.

“And, last but not least, sunscreen. You must always wear sun protection, even in winter and on cloudy days. UV rays can wreak havoc on your skin.”

“Y-Yes!”

Vil sighed, squeezing a generous heap of white goop into his palms. “If you understand, then you must promise me that you will take better care of yourself in the future.”

“I promise...”

“Good.”

His hands ran across your face, tracing every contour and curvature until each spot was slathered with sunscreen. Vil was the artist, and you were his canvas to be molded into a work of art.

A sweep here, a dab there, and...

Done.

Vil held your face, cupped within his hands, and gazed upon his work. His lips pulled into mirthful smirk—and his eyes glittered like amethysts embedded with stars.

He was so close--yet you cannot make out even a single pore or imperfection on his milky face. Your heart hammered from his intense gaze, and how his pink lips--today, the color of raspberries--were parted just so. How soft they must be, if he takes such good care of his skin.

“D-Do I look better now?” you asked nervously.

“See for yourself.”

Vil passed over a handheld mirror.

In the glass, a familiar, yet unfamiliar, face stared back at you. Your reflection bore a plump complexation—all rosy cheeks and supple skin. No white cast, no oily sheen, no flaky patches, no rough texture.

It almost doesn’t seem like yourself.

“Well?” Vil inquired, his arms folded.

“It’s me, but like...way better. It’s like you cast a spell or something.”

You cautiously poked your cheek. It conformed, then bounced back.

“No touching!” Vil hissed, yanking your wrist back with a frown.

“Whoops...ehehe, sorry. I forgot.”

“Honestly,” he groaned, reaching out and grasping your other wrist, “if you are going to disregard my advice so blatantly...”

Vil flashed his pearly whites in a sly smile. “ ...then perhaps I should keep a firm grip on these traitorous hands of yours until further notice.”

He lifted the back of your hand to his mouth and planted a kiss. His lips were every bit as tender and smooth as you had imagined them to be.

A single thought emerged from the back of your mind: just what would those lip of his taste like, set upon your own?

You reddened.

“That color is most becoming on you, potato,” Vil chuckled, pulling back. His grip on your hand remained firm, yet somehow also delicate--as though handling a precious gem.

“Come. We cannot afford to dawdle any longer. The ceremony awaits us.”

Hand in hand, you venture out into the world--

--putting you best face forward.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #disney twisted wonderland #Reader #self insert #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this #bulli

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joontier · 4 years

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mercedes midnight runs | drabble

synopsis: ur thirsting over jk driving you around in a mercedes

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: R

genre: smut, angst | warnings: pwp basically (the thirst is real and unquenchable) with lidol angst ; swearing ; degradation ; car sex (pls dont do this while driving fjlaksas)

word count: 2.1k

g/n: this is the first installment for my ‘between the lines’ collection! ackkk ive been wanting to do this for so long because ive always thirsted over the boys driving and imagining jk driving his mercedes around seoul is just,,,,, eye ---- btw, this is heavily unedited nhnghgnhgn i just had to share the thirst with yall real quick

between the lines navi. | navi. | m.list

You’ve already planned out a quiet night to yourself tonight to rest and get your mind off of things, but all of a sudden, just as you were about to settle in bed, Jungkook sends you a text, telling you to get ready in half an hour because he’s going to pick you up and take you out somewhere.

It isn't new news anymore that he’s texting you at this hour because he’s only permitted to go out after his schedules, which usually also end late at night. Superstar problems, can’t relate.

Well, that and because your relationship with him warrants these types of late night meet-ups. It’s that type of arrangement you’d never thought you’d agree to, but eventually, learned to cope with. Your phone pings - a new message.

[🕺] 12:45AM

im out front

When you exit your apartment, you see an unfamiliar silver car parked in front of the building, you back up the stairs, wary of who might be inside the mysterious vehicle. The window rolls down halfway, and you see Jungkook takes a peek through the small space.

Going back down the steps, you quickly climb inside the vehicle. “New car?”

“Yeah, you like it?”

You hum in agreement, tracing a hand along the sleek design of the dashboard. “It’s very...you,” you remark, in awe at how this new Benz fits Jungkook so well. “C’mere,” Jungkook tugs at your elbow, closing the distance between the two of you. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you.” He presses his lightly chapped lips against yours, nipping gently at your bottom lip. Abruptly, you pull away, worried.

“Kook...what if someone sees?”

“I got the windows tinted. I got this car for us.” His words resonate throughout the car, and you're afraid he might hear your heart thudding strongly in your chest. You choose to ignore the implications of his words, focusing on his presence and not your treacherous thoughts.

You give him a chaste kiss on his cheek in reply, sending a smile in his direction. You hope he doesn't see your real emotions swimming in your eyes. “Where are we escaping off to tonight?” Internally cringing at your careless choice of words, you take off your hoodie and place it at the backseat, along with your purse, all the while giving him a generous display of your cleavage as a distraction.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “I’m having second thoughts now, if we should really leave or not,” he says, unabashedly staring at your chest, eyeing your nipples, pert against the fabric of your low-cut top. “No bra?”

“You told me you’d be here in twenty minutes, so I had to hurry….”

“Wearing a bra takes you twenty minutes now?” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head at your lame excuse.

“Yup, especially when all I could think about is having you take them off. So be grateful, because I’m doing you a favor.” You give him a wink, giggling when he huffs and starts the car. You’ve outwitted him once more. Silently, deep within the recesses of your brain, you wish you had the same amount of control you had over your words with your heart, especially when you’re around Jungkook.

Connecting your phone to the car’s music player via bluetooth, you scroll through your recents and pick on your favorite playlist when you’re with Jungkook. ‘Sexy Can I’ by Ray J and Yung Berg comes first on shuffle.

“That sounds like a very promising playlist.”

Your conversation slowly lulls into silence, the two of you seated there quietly as you feel the enhanced bass reverberate throughout the new car. Leaning against the headrest, you glimpse at the man beside you, studying his features.

Sometimes you find it funny how never in a million years did you even dream of being this close to the Euphoria crooner. If it wasn’t for your cousin Eunkyung - an idol who debuted the same year as Jungkook did, who’s likewise a very good friend of the latter, then you don't think you would even come close to breathing the same air as the global sensation beside you.

Judging by the movement of Jungkook’s lips, you reckon he’s been speaking to you for the last five minutes, but you definitely have not processed a single word from him, for all you care. You couldn't blame yourself though, and Jungkook is certainly the one who is to take responsibility for your momentary preoccupation.

“You okay babe?”

“Mhmmhm”

If you were going to be completely honest, you were far from okay. Besides the many thoughts swirling inside your head, your trusty menstrual cycle tracker app is telling you that you’re bound to welcome your monthly visitor in a week - which means you’re PMSing - which further means you’re only in one certain state of mind - you’re insatiably horny.

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook is absolutely no help at all. Not when he constantly looks like sex personified - muscular thighs, veiny arms, the whole package. Plus, there’s something about Jungkook behind the wheel that’s ultimately driving you crazy.

A major part of it is your hormones for sure, but then again, even your hormones are thirsting over Jungkook driving, veiny forearms on display as he grips the wheel, or the way he backs up with only one hand on the steering wheel, or the way he sometimes keep a hand on your thigh as he drives. The formula is clear: Jeon Jungkook will be the cause of your insanity.

Jungkook pulls up the sleeves of his Carhartt sweater, revealing his nearing full-sleeve-tattooed right arm. The sight instantly makes you water, or wetter. Whichever the case may be.

You hadn’t seen him in a week, busy working on his mixtape, amongst other stuff. And you miss him terribly, sex with him included. As desperate and slutty that sounds, Jungkook is that type of person that leaves you wanting, yearning for more.

“What’s going on then?”

“If this is about Eunkyung…you know we already talked about that…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that, Jungkook.”

“What’s wrong then?”

You don’t answer, just silently watching the muscles on his forearm ripple as he pulls on the hand brake when you get to an intersection. You gulp, looking away as you push your thighs together, hoping that somehow the friction will help the desire pooling between your legs. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, whose eyes instantly darken, now all too aware of your state.

“Tell me what’s wrong baby girl.”

Your resolve nearly breaks at the pet name, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. The light turns green again, and as he continues to drive, he rests a hand on your exposed thigh, strategically placing it just in the middle, the action gentle, yet enough to add fuel to your frustration.

His tattooed fingers gingerly trace patterns on your bare thigh. Fuck Jungkook and his thing for skirts. You weren't one to complain about his sexual fantasies though, not when wearing the skirts he buys for you gets you a good fucking afterwards.

You stay quiet in your seat, not giving the satisfaction that Jungkook gets knowing that he’s getting you all riled up. Two can play at this game.

Gingerly, you place a hand on top of his, gently guiding his hand north towards your core. The man driving beside you lets out a cough, sitting up straighter. Keeping his hand sliding up until he’s fully cupping your core, Jungkook chokes on thin air as he realizes you’re not wearing panties either.

“Let me guess, wearing underwear is too mainstream?”

Shrugging, you spread your legs wider, guiding his fingers to slide against your already glistening folds. A shot of electricity runs through your spine. “Fuck, baby girl, you’ll be the death of me,” Jungkook growls, taking a sharp intake of breath as he teases you, shallowly dipping a digit through your wet cunt.

“You’re fucking soaked. You seem to enjoy the thought, princess. Christening my car seats like the slut that you are?” He drawls, this time fully pushing a finger in as you get to another stoplight.

“Jungkook, don’t tease me like that baby.” Biting your lip to stop the moan that’s threatening to spill, your own hand reaches out to grab at Jungkook crotch. He hisses at the sensation. You smirk to yourself. Seems like you’re not the only one who’s greatly affected.

Encouraged by Jungkook’s reaction, you slip a hand through the waistband of his sweats, taking hold of his already hard cock. “And you’re surprised I don’t wear underwear? Bit rich coming from you now isn’t it?”

“Better watch your mouth and stop teasing me, baby girl. You might just get punished for that.”

“And what if I want to get punished?”

Jungkook huffs, pulling out his finger as the light turns orange. He brings his slick-covered finger to your lips, “Suck,” he orders. You oblige, sucking on his slender digit and swirling a tongue around it.

“You’re in for a fucking treat, naughty girl.”

It’s green again. With a sigh, Jungkook gets back to driving, this time religiously looking for a discreet place to stop over so he can fuck you properly. He finally finds a filling station, now driving with newly found urgency.

He parks in one secluded corner of the station, with just a singular parking space separating you from a parked truck, the driver snoring away happily.

The tension is thick in the air, inevitably making you feel hot even with the air conditioning on full blast. With no words needed to get the message across, you both unbuckle your seatbelts hastily, finding each other in a heated kiss shortly after.

Making another grab at Jungkook’s dick - outlining against the confines of his Puma sweats, you urge him to pull them down to his thighs so you can have a taste of your alleged ‘treat’. Likewise, he orders you to lift your skirt up, giving him easier access to have you writing on his fingers alone.

Scooting closer, you bend over the center console, taking Jungkook’s length in your hands. You place a tentative kiss on the tip before diving in, taking his cock inside your mouth. Jungkook lets out a guttural groan at the sensation, taking your hair into his hands, forming a makeshift ponytail on your head.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that right?” His head throws back as you take him to the hilt, the tip hitting the back of your throat. At his compliment, you swallow and as you watch Jungkook visibly shudder, you give yourself a mental pat on the back.

As you continue to bob up and down Jungkook’s length, your hand travels between your legs, fingers easily finding your nether bud. With Jungkook starting to buck his hips upwards, helping you with your task, you quicken the pace of the fingers toying with your clit. You’re so close, but you’re doubtful you’ll even get to orgasm, considering your perched precariously over the console - definitely an uncomfortable position for you to orgasm in.

Jungkook senses your discomfort and tells you to sit down, and you’ll both do this together. As soon as you get seated, you scoot closer to the middle, when Jungkook’s hand extends to return its attention to your dripping cunt. You give Jungkook’s erection stands tall, likewise calling for attention. Heeding to its silent call, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, stroking his length languidly.

For a full minute, you both stay like that, trying to get each other to orgasm. Jungkook’s breathing gets labored by the second - the tell-tale signs he’s getting close. As your hand momentarily leaves his dick to massage his balls, his phone blares, startling you both out of your wits.

Letting out an annoyed huff, he grabs the phone and switches mute button down then thrusting the device somewhere on the dashboard. Pretending as if nothing happened, you continue your handjob until Jungkook can’t take it any longer, pulling you up from your seat and telling you to come and sit on his lap.

As soon as Jungkook pushes his seat back, you crawl over to his side, unceremoniously sitting on his lap, gyrating your hips as you slide your wet folds against the muscular expanse of his thigh. You’re almost there, Jungkook taking your breasts in his hands for more stimulation - that is until his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the dashboard.

“You should probably get that,” you pull away, retreating to your seat: cockblocked for the second time. You check the dashboard for his phone, and get a glimpse of the caller’s ID on his screen. Eunkyung.

You place the device into Jungkook’s hands yourself.

“It’s your girlfriend calling.”

#bts smut #bangtanhq #btsguild #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #btsghostie #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts drabbles

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straylightdream · 4 years

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AFTERGLOW | PJM

part 16: here we are

featuring: Park Jimin x Reader Jung Hoseok (J Hope) x reader

You’re one of his best friend ex girlfriends. He tells himself over and over that he can’t have feelings for you, but sometime you can’t just shut off your feelings.

wc: 2k

warnings: angst, protected sex, oral (female recieving).

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The blaring music from the party kept you distracted. It’s a night filled with lots of alcohol and good friends. It’s a rare night where literally all of you are able to hang out. Taehyung is by your side as you sit on the patio sipping on your cup of beer. Looking through the large glass sliding door you watch as Hobi is standing on the other side talking to two girls. You recognize one of them as Lisa, one of the girls from the studio. The other girl you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen her before. You can tell he’s using his signature charm on them, both the girls have been smiling the whole time they’ve been taking and you’ve even seen them giggle.

Your eyes immediately lock on Jimin’s lean figure as he walks outside. He pulls up a chair and sits next to you. Looking past him you still see Hobi talking to those two girls.

Jimin and Tae start having a conversation about some artist but the whole time they’re talking you can’t seem to really focus. Your mind only seems to be able to focus on Jimin who is sitting next to you.

Taehyung places his hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze before he walks inside leaving you alone with Jimin. This is the first time you’ve even had the slightest moment alone since arriving at this party. You had to text him just to get him to come see you.

He leans over with lips near your ear and whispers just loud enough for only you to hear, “did you want to leave?” What he’s asking doesn’t have a simple answer. If you could live your life without taking in the consideration of Hobi’s feeling you would say yes in a heartbeat. Pulling away from him you look at him to see his eyes are filled with desperation.

“I thought we were trying to behave?”

“I know we shouldn’t but,” he pauses and looks passed you where Hobi is talking to those girls. “So, do you want to leave this party?”

You decide in the moment you’re acting on your feelings. You nod your head and say, “yes.”

“Do you want to head out first?”

“Yeah, I’ll leave now,” you stand up quickly. You immediately notice the feeling of butterflies taking over your stomach. You’re nervous and equally excited for what’s about to happen.

Walking inside the crowded house you hunt down Tae to tell him you’re heading out. He gives you a knowing smile before whispering in your ear to be careful.

Standing outside the crowded house you order a cab quickly. You’ve never wanted to get home faster in your life.

The moment you arrive at your studio you rush to the bathroom to brush your teeth and you attempt to make yourself as ready as possible for Jimin.

Thirty minutes later you’re sitting on your couch drinking a glass of water waiting. The sound of a knock on your door causes you to jump up quickly. You waste no time opening the door to find the man you had patiently been waiting for.

“Hi,” he smiles with a little awkward wave.

“Hi.”

He steps inside and removes his black boots sitting them by the door. He steps towards you silently not saying anything. His hand rests on your cheek and he whispers, “you’re so beautiful.” His sweet words make your heart flutter.

Leaning in he closes the distance between you. With your nose pressed against his you take a deep breath taking in his closeness. The tension between you is unbearable as your hands cling to his shirt. His breathing is slow as he stands still.

Closing the small distance between you he presses his beautiful lips to yours for a passion filled kiss. His tongue slides along your bottom lip asking for you to open your mouth. Parting your lips his tongue slides against yours. The feeling of butterflies never leaves when you’re near Jimin. His lips on yours makes you feel like your world is spinning. With your lips parting your nose once again rest against his as both your rest are rising and falling.

Where do you go from here? There’s two outcomes from this situation. One of them being you telling him goodnight and leaving it at the intense kiss you just shared, or you cross the line you both agreed not to cross. Your mind is telling you to walk away now that you can’t do this, but your body and soul is screaming you need more. Your body has never craved the touch of humans like it has Jimin. Your soul and your heart just wants you to have Jimin and way possible. Your heart doesn’t want you to deny the feeling you’ve been pushing aside for far too long.

Subtle drag of Jimin’s hand up your side snaps you out of your thoughts. Pursing your lips you try to find words to process what you’re feeling. Your brain doesn’t seem like it’s fully functioning in the moment.

“What do we do?” He asks, reaching up taking your face in his hands. Pulling back slightly he looks at you with a conflicted face.

You so desperately want to shut your emotions off and just act on pure lust, but this wasn’t just some guy you're lusting after. This was someone who you were pretty sure you loved. Sleeping with him was going to affect more than just you and him. Hobi’s feeling we’re also involved.

“Jimin am I worth all this pain?” you whisper closing your eyes.

A smile spreads across his face as he nods, “yeah are worth everything. I would do anything to you.”

“Okay. You’re worth everything to me too.”

Leaning forward he presses his forehead against yours. Your fingers are still desperately clinging to his shirt.

Leaning forward you crash your lips into his like a wave hitting the shore. Your lips move together as you both start pulling at each other’s clothing removing them quickly. Your lips only part to remove both your shirts.

You stand apart staring at each other while you’re only dressed in your underwear. He’s staring at you like you’re the only person who seems to exist. Your eyes can’t help but travel down his tone body. Your eyes stop at the bulge in his boxers. He slowly slides his boxers down his tone thighs leaving his completely bare in front of you. Stepping forward he closes the distance between the two of you. He reaches behind you to remove your bra. He steps back again looking at you in awe. Dropping to his knees in front of you his fingers hook into your black panties and slowly slides them down your thighs.

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking up at you.

“Yes.”

He leans in pressing a soft kiss to the top of your thigh. He starts leaving a trail of kisses to your already moistening core. He slides his slender finger through you folds earning a gasp from you.

Your eyes remain locked on him as he glides your finger along your entrance. His tongue laps at your sensitive clit.

“More,” you whimper as he pumps his slender finger inside you.

Your fingers tangle his soft locks holding him close to your body. Low whispers pass your lips with each pump of his fingers.

It doesn’t take long before he has you moaning his name as he pushes you over the edge. Setting back on his knees he looks up at you smiling.

He stands up and leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Taking his hand you lead him over towards your bed. He sits down on the edge and watches as reaching into your dresser to pull out a row of condoms. Tearing the foil packet open with your teeth you drop to your knees in front of Jimin and pump his hardened length a few times earning a low moan from Jimin. Sliding the rubber down his hardened length he looks at you with hooded eyes.

“Lay down for me,” he voice is so soft as he speaks to you.

Silently you nod before crawling into bed. Laying in the middle you look over and watch as moves so he’s right on top of you.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks with his hips resting against yours.

“Yes I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

A smile spreads across his face before he leans down and presses a soft kiss on your stomach. Ever so slowly he enters you causing you to gasp.

Hovering over you he rolls his hips into yours slowly. Each thrust feels as if it’s sending a shockwave to your core. Your hands grip the sheets next to you as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

His pillow soft lips are resting by your ear whispering the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. Every single thing about this moment between you is perfect. This wasn’t normal lust filled sex. This was nothing but pure passion between two people in love.

One of your hands moves so it’s resting on his shoulder. You hook your leg over his back so it’s resting just above his butt. You pull his body closer to you. He’s practically laying on top of you as he rolls his hips into yours at the same slow pace. They’re just something about the way your bodies move together that just feels perfect. Your whole life feels like it’s been a puzzle that has been put together piece by piece and before this moment you had always been missing one. Something in your life has always been missing before Jimin. You feel utterly complete as he holds you and kisses you. With each slow thrust the coil in your stomach tightens. As you climb the high mountain you cling to Jimin. Soft whimpers pass your lips with each thrust. Your studio is filled with the echoes of your heavy breathing and his low moans. Never had sweeter sounds been heard.

Pulling his face away from yours he stares down at you with a smile across his lips and slight sheen to his face. You don’t think you have ever met anyone more beautiful than Jimin.

Lifting your hips you try to meet each of his thrust. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses up down the sensitive skin across your neck. Your bottom lip is captured between your teeth as you hold back moaning his name.

When you finally reach the top of the mountain you throw yourself off moaning his name as your orgasm washes over you. Dropping your legs from his waist he picks up his pace a little. You ride out your high slowly as he thrust in and out of you. His final few thrust as sloppy before he finds his own release. He comes moaning your name loudly.

Ever so slowly he removes himself from you and discards the condom before crawling back into your bed. He pulls your body close to him so you’re practically laying on top of him.

Closing your eyes you feel nothing but bliss as he holds you. Everything that just happened is unlike anything you had ever experienced. Glancing up at him you find him wearing a goofy grin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you can’t lie you’re shocked that you finally had sex with him. No matter how shocked you are you would take back what just happened.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* if you would like to be tagged please message me or send an ask *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@xxxanimangxxx @ibelieveinourgalaxy @wwilloww @murderyoursoul @tae165 @lessbittermoreglitters @parkmaeri @tiddieshakeshownu @traceyourskin @questiontotheanswer @chiquifibaby1208 @aworsley

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cocoarchives · 3 years

Text

Instant Coffee

Oh, at first it’s wonderful, don’t get me wrong.

The smell of the ground up coffee mixed with the chocolate powder, the way that it wakes me up in the morning. It’s an experience, one that sends sparks bursting into my brain like a firework, giving me that energy and that excitement to start another day, to smile and greet the next groggy guest with a cheerful “Hello!”.

Just holding the handle of the kettle warms my cold hands, as I pour hot water into the cup, watching the powder float to the top and dissolve like an island sinking into the sea.

It could be a metaphor for something. It feels like it could be a metaphor for anything.

That first sip is like a drug. The flavour stimulating my taste buds, the shivers giving me the giggles to lighten the mood of the room. Music or streams or videos play on my phone, as my beverage moistens my mouth for another bite of the soft slice of toast, the subtle salt of the butter just giving the barest kick.

Mornings are for when I can forget. Mornings are for when I can stop worrying. Breakfast is the 30 minutes of peace in my day, where nothing can touch me, and I am safe.

But the battle begins when I leave. When that cup of coffee drains away, when I am done my food and my body’s been satiated, ready to begin.

The battle begins when I taste it.

It coats my tongue like film, so sour and thick that it makes me gag. It’s everlasting, haunting, stubborn. No fire can penetrate it, no water can wash it away. Even hours later, it still lingers. Days later, and the residue still remains.

I cough like I’m infected with a disease, hard and violent and threatening to suffocate the air from my lungs. My knees buckle like I’m mutating, my brain fighting the thing that does not exist, except it does, except it doesn’t, not physically. Except, it is in a way physical.

This film, this small and simple morning joy, the sweet and wonderful flavour. It becomes a knife to my throat, a rope threatening to strangle me. It becomes my undoing, though who could be blamed for allowing it to in the first place?

For a brief moment, my mind turns to the lonely isle, sinking into the polluted sea. It must be a metaphor for something.

I don’t tell anyone, of course. How much I hate it, how much the aftermath disgusts me, how much I tremble and struggle to breathe as I wait for the torture to end. I just wait until it becomes bearable. Until my mind recognizes the poison won’t kill me, and relaxes. And then I go out. I smile for friends. Smile for people I barely know.

I smile like the taste still doesn’t linger.

I smile like my routine won’t kill me eventually.

#Short story #Original story #Fiction #Instant coffee #Vent story #Original fiction #It doesn't bother me anymore #Written during midterm stress #Coffee #Mocha

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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 5 years

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What the Water Gave Me, chapter 3

Main pairing: Catradora

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172373/chapters/47980459

Chapter 3: Black Sails

Three days after leaving Seaworthy, Adora still can’t get the skirmish out of her mind. She doesn’t think she can be judged for her preoccupation, having witnessed a fight like that. It reminds her too much of the old battles that haunt her sleep, battles at sea aboard a different ship, but all the worse for it.

She turns the wheel and squints against the late morning sun. There’s nary a cloud in the sky and the wind is fair. Since their stop at Seaworthy was cut short, they’re making good time toward Salineas and are set to arrive in 10 days, less if the winds pick up in their favor.

Her crew have already recovered from the shock and are as boisterous and loud as ever. Bow is at her side once again, leaning against the edge of the quarterdeck. Glimmer is on the main deck with one of Adora’s men, and he appears to be teaching her how to adjust the sails while she listens intently. No one seems especially concerned about much of anything, but that just gives Adora a worse feeling of unease. She keeps coming back to those pirates and their ship, to that brazenly flippant woman with the scorpion’s claws. She remembers the way those pirates watched her on the dock and can’t shake the idea that their attention was more than simple curiosity. True, there’s been no sign of them in the past three days, but Adora concludes that she won’t really feel better about it until they get to Salineas.

She’s thinking about Catra too, because of course she is. Her brain will take even the flimsiest excuse to do that. She remembers one of the few times the Fright Zone ever docked in Salineas, when the two of them had been released to galivant through the streets. They weren’t allowed to have spending money like the older pirates, but it was a rare day when they were left without supervision, as Shadow Weaver was elsewhere doing gods know what and Captain Hordak was conducting his secretive business in the dockyards.

Catra had been ecstatic and unwilling to waste any time, dragging Adora by the hand as they ran down the cobble streets.

Eventually they found themselves crouched in a cramped side street that was situated by the lively, bustling marketplace. Their eyes fixed upon one particularly spacious stand that was selling crates and bushels of the exotic fruits native to these particular islands. They licked their lips hungrily as they identified mangos, melons, kiwis, papayas, and more. Food on the Fright Zone was bland at best, especially for them, the two youngest people there. They weren’t old enough to help board ships, and so were rarely allowed to share in the spoils. Catra had always resented that, even though it didn’t really bother Adora. Shadow Weaver always set aside nice foods for her anyway, which she was able to pocket to share with Catra later.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Catra said. “You’ll be the distraction, and I’ll grab everything I can carry from that box over there.” She pointed to one crate set down on the far side of the stall, one that was slightly blocked from view and therefore easiest to take from. She then pointed at the vendor, a tall man with bull’s horns and hooves for feet. “Once I’m in my spot, go over there and get his attention. I’ll give you a thumbs up when I’m finished, and then I’ll meet you back by that closed down bait shop we passed a few streets ago. You got it?”

Adora nodded excitedly. “Okay, I’m goin’ in,” Catra whispered, getting up.

Adora caught her hand as she started to go. “Be careful!”

Catra flashed her pristine, pointy teeth. “Always am, Adora!”

Adora stayed crouched in the alleyway while Catra ran out of sight, only to reappear a minute later kneeling next to their targeted crate. She grinned mischievously at Adora and jerked her head in the direction of the vendor.

Adora gulped and steeled her nerves. When she was ready, she stood and jogged up to the man. “Uh, hey mister! Are those real horns?”

“Hrrm? Whadja say to me, girl?” The vendor scratched a hairy ear as he turned from his wares to look at her.

Adora gave him her best innocent smile. “Those horns! They’re reaaally cool. I was wondrin’ if they was real!” In her periphery, Adora saw Catra grabbing as much fruit as she could hold in her shirt.

“Whuh… What kind of dumb question is tha? Course they real!” He started to turn back but Catra hadn’t given her the signal yet.

Adora scrambled to stall. “Uh! W-What about the hooves? How come you got hooves for feet but got ten fingers too?” She hated playing the idiot. The only thing that made the humiliation worth it was the fresh fruit she would soon stuff her face with.

“What in the…? Now look ‘ere, ya mangy brat. Some of us got work to do ‘ere, and I’ve got no damn time for---” From behind the huge man, Adora could see Catra grab one last mango and stuff it in her shirt, giving Adora a thumbs up before taking off in the other direction. Thank the Drowned God.

“Oh, okay! Bye, mister!” She said loudly before she too turned tail and ran, skipping back down the alleyway that they’d been hiding in. As she left, she heard a bovine roar from behind her.

“Who stole from my bloody stall?!”

She couldn’t stop her giggles until she was outside the rundown bait shop. She looked around for Catra, eager to get her share of their spoils. That was when she heard the familiar sound of flesh hitting flesh and Catra crying out.

She ran in the direction of the sound, to the other side of the small building. The first thing she saw was Shadow Weaver standing with her hands balled into fists, tendrils of darkness whipping furiously around her body. Then she saw Catra curled up on the ground, clutching her face and crying. All the fruit they had taken had spilled onto the street, their juices leaving sticky stains behind.

“Catra! Shadow Weaver!” Adora gasped, running up to them.

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver drawled in her oily voice, turning to her. “I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here too. I caught this wretched creature making a nuisance of herself and threatening the captain’s interests here by stealing out in the open. I don’t suppose you would know anything about that?”

Adora gulped, looking down at her feet and worrying the bottom of her shirt with her fingers. “I-It wasn’t her fault, Shadow Weaver. It, it was my idea! Mine! I wanted the fruit, and I made her help me. She didn’t do anything wrong!” She could see Catra staring at her from the ground, blinking back her tears. Adora felt her own eyes burn and moisten. “We- we didn’t mean to cause trouble for Captain Hordak, honest!”

“Oh, Adora…” Shadow Weaver cupped her cheek with a cool, long-fingered hand. “I know when you lie to me, dear child. You must take better control of your pet, darling, or else the captain will have cause to get rid of her. Do not let something like this happen again.” She ran one pointed finger down Adora’s nose affectionately before straightening up. “That being said, this incident cannot pass without proper punishment.” Quick as a mako shark, Shadow Weaver grabbed Catra by the arm and dragged her to her feet. Adora opened her mouth to protest, but Shadow Weaver cut her off with a wave of the hand. “Ah ah, my sweet, keep quiet now, or you’ll only make it worse for her. Do you understand?” Adora still remembers how terrified she was of the witch in that moment. She had shut her mouth and followed Shadow Weaver back to the Fright Zone in silence.

Catra had struggled and squirmed valiantly once they were up on the deck, turning pleading eyes to Adora even as two older members of the crew dragged her to the mainmast on Shadow Weaver’s orders. They tied her to it with ropes so tight that the brush burns didn’t heal for days. They ripped open her shirt, stained with sugary juice, and bared her back to the unforgiving malice of the crew. A huge reptile man, Tung Lashor, approached with a whip in his hand, looking at Shadow Weaver for instruction.

Shadow Weaver rested her hands on Adora’s tiny shoulders, firmly holding her in place. “Ten stripes,” she decreed. “Five for causing trouble for Hordak, and five for getting Adora to lie about it.” Adora shuddered and whimpered as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. She felt it when Shadow Weaver bent down to whisper in her ear, all while Catra tried to break free from the ropes and Tung Lashor unrolled the whip. “You see, Adora. Our actions always have consequences.” The first blow landed on vulnerable flesh, and Catra’s scream rent the air.

“Captain!” Adora’s head jerks upward and she focuses on her lookout in the crow’s nest. “We’ve got a ship incomin’, Captain! With black sails!”

“What?” She follows to where he is frantically pointing, taking the telescope Bow hands her automatically and peering into it. When she does, sure enough, she spots a ship speeding in their direction, decorated boldly with sails the color of tar. “Fuck me,” she spits, her mind already racing. She hands the telescope back to Bow, who takes it grimly. “Alright, calm down.” She says to herself as much as him. “We don’t know that they’re coming to attack us,” she says to him. He just stares back disbelievingly. She can’t blame him. She doesn’t really believe it herself. There’s no way in the Drowned God’s sodden breeches that this ship is flashing black sails peacefully.

She shouts down to her crew, where they are already awaiting her command. “Ready the guns!” Instantly, the atmosphere shifts from one of energetic work to tense preparation. The man who was teaching Glimmer leaves her by the shrouds to help roll up a cannon on the starboard side. The Princess now looks stranded on the deck, trying to find something to do. Adora turns back to Bow. “Take her to my cabin and stay with her there. If they do attack us, they cannot get their hands on her.”

It’s clear that Bow doesn’t want to leave Adora’s side, but he wants Glimmer in danger even less, so he readjusts his bow to his back and hops down from the edge, jogging over to the girl. From where she stands, Adora can see that Glimmer isn’t pleased by what Bow tells her, and she glances unhappily up at Adora, who only stares back, unyielding. She frowns deeply, but ultimately goes with Bow, and they both disappear inside the captain’s quarters.

Now Adora stands alone at the helm, taking deep breaths. She reminds herself that she needs to stay composed, for the sake of her crew. As captain, she forms the foundation of their confidence and morale, and she can’t afford to waver if all of their lives are about to be put on the line. She looks behind her once more, and curses when she sees that their pursuer has picked up speed. In the distance she can see long oars cut and drag through the waves, propelling them ever closer to the Swift Wind’s stern. Opportunistic shit-licking whoresons… The Swift Wind, for all her grace and speed compared to others of her kind, is still a big, lumbering cargo hauler that could never outrun a ship smaller and leaner than she. And these flea-bitten pirate rats know it as surely as Adora does.

Still, she calls for the sails to be fully extended. If she can give them even a bit of trouble catching up, they might decide it isn’t worth the effort and leave them be. The extra bit of sail gives them a small burst of speed, and she spins the wheel hard to the left as their foe approaches from 20 degrees to the right. The Sword is thrumming against her hip, as if It knows It will be needed soon.

The waiting is the worst part. The two ships aren’t close enough yet to risk attacking, so all they can do is run and chase and watch each other. The pirates’ rig inches ever forward, the bowsprit jutting out like a great spear above their figurehead, which strikes Adora as somewhat familiar, but from this distance she can’t make out exactly what it is. The black sails are flashy and bold, turning the ship into a dark specter prowling the waters, like the sea demons Shadow Weaver used to tell her stories about. Whoever the captain is must have a flair for the dramatic.

A glance at her deck reveals that her swabbies have positioned most of the guns and are ready to fight when it comes to that. Sighing, Adora knows they’ve done all they can. Either they fight, or they all walk away from this in peace, and there’s no way to know what will happen until it’s done. A harsh gust cuts across the hull, forcing her to fix her hair and pull up the hood on her burgundy coat.

It takes upwards of twenty minutes, but eventually black sails are blotting out the sky in the west behind them. Adora looks once more at their pursuers to assess the odds in the battle that’s about to break out. When she does, her breath stutters in her chest and her gray-blue eyes go wide.

No! She recognizes the figurehead now, all too well. The baleful eyes of a snarling, shrieking witch pierce her through. She had always hated its twisted face, its shining shark’s teeth, and the riling snakes that made up its hair. It used to give her nightmares as a child, but even now it freezes her blood. Because this is no ordinary pack of thugs chasing after them, and she must now deal with the oppressive realization that she and her crew are not going to win this battle.

The Fright Zone glides up on their right side, and there is terrible silence for 10 eternal seconds. Adora can see the captain at the helm, Hordak, the bastard. His face and figure are hidden beneath a black coat and tricorn hat. She watches in horror as he raises a hand high in the air… And brings it down hard.

The air fills with smoke and thunder. Adora counts fifteen cannonballs as they fly across the choppy waves and hit the Swift Wind directly, concussively piercing her starboard side and sending blood, lead shrapnel, and wood splinters flying.

“Fire!” She yells down at her crew, and they are already lighting the fuses. Their return wave is short by two guns but still unforgiving and harshly retributive. Her size might slow her down, but the Swift Wind makes up for it with plenty of big fucking cannons. Through the heavy fog of smoke and sulfur, she can still see the shots as they connect, rocking the smaller vessel on impact and sending several of the pirates soaring through the air. “Reload!”

She turns the ship’s wheel hard to the left once more with the intent of getting more distance between them. The Swift Wind lists in that direction, but it’s no use as the Fright Zone’s oarsmen pick up the slack and keep them well within range for a second attack.

“They’re firin’ chain shot, Cap!” One of her men bellows just as said shots rip gaping holes in their starboard once more. One of them takes a dangerous chunk out of their foremast and another carves through one of their firing teams.

She watches her people fall dead to the deck, only for their bodies to be dragged away and their positions replaced. She could scream with rage, but she doesn’t because there’s no time. “Fire on the mangy dogs!” She calls as her eyes turn back to Hordak, who has left the helm to his first mate and is now standing with arms crossed at the railing, bold as brass. She’s tempted to order a shot on him directly.

The cannons roar like war drums as they counterattack, and though they do an admirable amount of damage to the Fright Zone’s aft, the other ship continues to creep closer to them. Adora curses as she glimpses hooks and ropes being thrown from the Fright Zone to catch onto the Swift Wind’s rail. “They’re boardin’ us!”

Sure enough, right as she shouts down to her crew to abandon the cannons and get ready to fight man-to-man, she hears Hordak yell, “Run ‘em through, lads!” Wait, that’s not Hordak’s voice…

Facing the reality of their imminent boarding, Adora lets her hands drop from the helm to the Sword. It sings an otherworldly note as she pulls It forth from Its scabbard. Its ethereal blade glows blue, and It makes her entire body tingle as It pours Its power into her. She reads the runes engraved into the metal, letting them embolden her and steel her courage. Adora has been a natural with a blade since her training aboard the very ship trying to kill her now, but with the Sword in her grip she is more than a master. She never could decide if the Sword became an extension of her or if she became an extension of It, but whichever it is means that she has never lost in a blade-to-blade fight.

She vaults the quarterdeck’s banister and lands gracefully on the main deck. She meets the eyes of one of her men, who gulps loudly at the sight of her. “It’s time to end this,” she tells him severely.

He nods jerkily. “Aye aye, Captain!”

She marches forward, heading straight for the hooks pulling the two vessels closer together. She sees one of the pirates take hold of a rope and swing over to her side. The Sword quickens her heartbeat and urges her onward. She sprints at her own mainmast, leaps past the shrouds, and runs up the thick wooden pole, grabbing an iron notch a yard or so up to help propel her body high into the air. As that oh so brave and enterprising brigand crosses the water between the ships, she meets him with a roundhouse kick that spins her in the air to better slam her shin into his grinning face.

They fall together, but he hits the water with a painful smack while she angles her body so as to land on her feet atop one of the cannons. She perches there, the Sword’s blade resting on one shoulder, glaring at the pirates gawking at her from the other end of the ropes. One of them eventually thinks to aim a pistol at her, and she thanks the Drowned God that the Sword’s influence and pure adrenaline make her petrifying fear of guns nearly non-existent. She does a backflip off the cannon as the lead ball soars underneath her head and off into the distance. She lands deftly on the deck once more, just as the Captain Who Isn’t Hordak turns to their men and shouts, “Come with me and take this ship!” The pirates cheer and bellow with swords and guns raised, and they all charge for the Fright Zone’s edge, some grabbing ropes to swing on and others putting down planks to climb across. Yet more attempt to simply leap over the gap between the vessels, but Adora is ready for them.

The first pirate that crosses the threshold is kicked so hard in the stomach that he flies backward, cracking his spine against the aft of the Fright Zone and falling limp into the waves. Some of them try to put down another ramp and cross over that way, but the Sword slices through the wood like paper, sending it and its occupants down as well.

It’s not enough though. There’s too many of them, and they’re boarding in droves. The Swift Wind is in chaos, and a tumultuous brawl is under way with swords clashing against each other and flintlocks firing left and right. Her crew are doing their best, but they are vastly outnumbered. Adora wastes no time diving right into the thick of the action, cutting a merciless slash into one brigand’s side before knocking the gun out of another’s hand, a woman with short hair and dark skin like Bow’s. She grabs the pistol as it falls and whips the woman across the face with it. The pirate cries out and falls away, and Adora moves on to the next.

She sees one of her men wrestling with a particularly enormous pirate. They are battling for possession of a musket locked between them, and the huge brigand is slowly winning. She gets a running start and does a long and elegant front flip, bringing the Sword down in a painting-perfect arc to slice through his forearms. The Sword doesn’t sever them as she might like, but the injury still makes the pirate lose his grip on the gun, allowing Adora’s man to get it back and turn the tide.

By now, some of the enemy forces have begun to realize who their biggest threat is, and so they advance on her, attempting to cage her in and overwhelm her. She raises the Sword in front of her and spits on the deck, daring them to attack, and is somewhat shocked to see that they actually hesitate. She wonders if her unflinching glare is really so intimidating, but doesn’t give them the chance to make up for their reluctance. The Sword creates a shining blue arc in the air as it descends on the pirate closest to her. The tip rips through the man’s chest, and she takes advantage of the gap he creates, blocking the axe that aims for her neck and severing the blade from the handle. She hops onto the banister leading up to the bowsprit and runs toward it. Now free of harassing enemies, she takes a split second to scan the battlefield.

Her people are still outnumbered, and even with her help they are starting to lose. She struggles desperately for any kind of plan that will see them through this, and her eyes catch on the hat of the Fright Zone’s captain, who, Adora only realizes now, appears to be a woman. The captain is their crew’s foundation. Kill the captain to break their morale, and even the hairiest fights can be won in a pinch.

Adora watches with eyes narrowed as the other captain saunters onto the Swift Wind’s deck like it already belongs to her. Feeling white hot anger surge beneath her breast bone, she runs along the rail, hopping from gun to gun until she is close enough to strike. Her hood falls as she jumps down behind her target and pulls her Sword back to cut right through the bitch’s throat. But as her left arm extends to make the killing blow, she sees the other captain’s right arm rise. She sees the briefest flash of a toothy smirk before the cold muzzle of a pistol touches her forehead, just as her blade connects with the woman’s jugular.

They are both frozen in place, arms extended and bodies left vulnerable, and the battle around them fades to barely noticeable background noise.

Adora can’t believe what she’s seeing. Surely, it can’t be true. She must have been hit on the head and simply failed to notice. She can’t be seeing a pair of blue and yellow eyes staring back at her. She can’t be seeing a set of pearly white teeth in a mouth that gawps like a fish. She can’t be seeing this face, not this face that has lingered in her thoughts and dreams every day for the past five years.

“C-Catra?”

Catra doesn’t seem to register her own name. She just keeps gawking at Adora like she’s looking at a ghost, or maybe a miracle. Her jaw moves up and down erratically. Her lips struggle to form syllables. She seems entirely incapable of speech until…

“Adora?”

In unison, as perfectly as if they’d practiced it, they both lower their weapons. Catra’s gun hand drops limply to her side, and Adora’s sword arm follows suit. The both of them have been rendered effectively useless, since all they can do now is stare.

It’s Catra that makes the first move, taking a single, unsteady step forward. Her empty hand rises, falls, and rises again. “But… you’re dead.”

“No.” Gods, is that all she can come up with? No? “I’m not.” Fucking blithering idiot…

“But how?” Catra demands, taking another step forward until they are nearly nose to nose. Her trembling fingers touch Adora’s cheek, and she sucks in a harsh breath when they do. “How can you be here? I saw you d---”

The thunder of another cannon blast cuts off Catra’s words, and Adora’s head turns just in time to see the projectile hit the middle of the Swift Wind, smashing into the cargo hold, and her mind flashes instantly to the three dozen barrels of gunpowder sitting prettily in that very spot. Shit!

Sure enough, she has only a second to make her decision, and it’s a simple one, really. She turns back to Catra, wraps both arms around her, and tackles her to the deck not a fraction of a moment too soon, as Hell opens its gates behind them.

The force of the blast is incalculable, as is the volume of its roar. Still, she only shifts to cover Catra’s body further even as her entire back explodes with searing agony. She might scream. She isn’t really sure. Very little is certain. She thinks she feels the deck as it tilts. She’s also sure she notices when Catra slips out from under her. Or maybe Adora just falls off. Regardless, she presses numb palms to the wood and tries to stand up. She fails. She tries a second time, and fails. She can’t move her legs and her arms are useless, buckling under her weight and leaving her in a heap.

She feels hands grabbing her arms roughly, understands that her body is being dragged against someone else’s, but beyond that she doesn’t really know what’s going on. Someone is speaking in her ear and running their hands through her hair, but her vision is blurry now and her eyelids are heavy as anchors.

The last thing she feels is someone desperately shaking her shoulders.

#she ra #spop #she ra and the princesses of power #what the water gave me #my writing #catradora #adora #catra

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sablelab · 5 years

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Santa Baby - Chapter 3

Picture source: @TwilightCougar1

DISCLAIMER: This nine part story is a Sam and Caitriona fanfic. This is a complete work of fiction and as such is an entirely fabricated tale created in my imagination. I do not know the people in my story, nor do I proclaim to know anything about them whatsoever about their status or their life in general. This is a complete fantasy story concocted from the Christmas song “Santa Baby” which was used as a prompt for my writing.

SYNOPSIS : Sam returns home after a whirlwind Outlander promotional tour to Australia and Japan and catches Caitriona singing in the shower. She has visions of Sam dressing up as her “Santa Baby” for Christmas and everything that that might entail. Based on the Christmas song “Santa Baby.” ENJOY!!!

CHAPTER 3

Caitriona could barely believe her eyes at the sight of her husband lounging by the bathroom door. Her breath was suddenly tight in her chest. Here she had been singing along in the shower and thinking of the very man in question and now here he was home at last. Taking a deep breath she twirled her head around a little bit hardly believing her own eyes. Sam had that faraway look in his eyes that told her he was internalising his thoughts as if he was just at this moment realising that he was indeed back home with her. It was only a fleeting expression that crossed his face for when his eyes captured hers it changed instantaneously. His whole face lit up like a Christmas tree and he couldn’t contain his absolute delight at seeing her once more after their two week separation.

The next moment he was standing by the door with the cutest grin on his face that Cait just wanted to run into his arms and cover his face with kisses. His eyes devoured her as they slowly traced her form from head to toe while his slow scrutiny made her stomach somersault in need to have him in her arms. The look she gave him in return was laced with intense joy and her feelings of having him back home with her again danced all across her face. She was beaming.

Pushing himself away from the door frame, Sam slowly sauntered towards his love never once severing his stare. The blood in Caitriona’s veins thrummed with anticipation, while her heartbeats accelerated to an abnormal thumping rhythm. He looked tired; there was weariness in his eyes coupled with a raw desire that made her catch her breath. It only ever took one single look before she was a blithering mess of feelings.

Does he have any idea of what he does to me with his eyes?

There was a look of dangerous intent in the suddenly bluish-black orbs that seemed to be eating her alive. Sam’s gaze dropped from his love’s face to study her breasts that were heaving beneath a towel that suddenly felt much too tight.

Of course he does, she thought. He always knows how he unnerves me.

Cait could see the slight rise of Sam’s eyebrow and the little smirk that was just being held in check. She bit her lip as a quiver of excitement ran through her body and watched as the love of her life came nearer and nearer. Closing her eyes, Caitriona suddenly felt faint but opened them quickly once again hoping that her husband wasn’t an apparition. She could almost feel his touch and she could smell his Molecule 01 cologne for it teased her nostrils and made her shiver again.

“Cold, are you Balfe?”

Sam’s voice was like smooth honey washing over her like the hot cascading water of the shower. Her knees felt like jelly and as if they would give way. Looking in the mirror, Caitriona watched her husband slowly but with intent move closer to her. She breathed in holding her breath too excited to even breathe normally. She couldn’t … not with Sam this close that she could almost touch him.

“Nnnn … no,” she stuttered in reply, her answer lingering on the tip of her tongue.

Suddenly, Sam was standing behind his wife with his right hip pressed against her derrière. The touch blew Caitriona’s mind. It felt good … oh, so good, that she was slowly but surely melting into a puddle of feelings. She knew that it would be just like this when he came home, that she would fall to pieces the very moment Sam touched her. Her body was attuned to his lethal touch and it was eagerly betraying her this very moment.

Closing his eyes Sam nuzzled into his wife burying his face in Cait’s freshly washed hair that smelt like sunshine and honeysuckle and began kissing her tresses. The smell and taste against his lips was like his first taste of whisky … it was heavenly while inhaling Caitriona’s scent was like an aphrodisiac to his senses. Sam nudged his nose into her luxurious hair pushing her tresses aside to kiss his love just behind her ear. Cait shivered as his warm breath tantalised her ear and sent shivers darting along her nerves as the man she loved brought her body back closer to his torso.

The longing for her husband’s touch was ever present and the touch of Sam’s hip and lips to her hair, although barely touching was so acute that Caitriona thought she might expire on the spot. Then, when she felt the soft, warm, caress of Sam’s breath and soft lips on her shoulder Cait knew she was in trouble.

“I can see goose bumps on your body babe,” his lips mouthed against her skin.

“Really?” she uttered huskily, her breath a mere whisper on her lips.

His Caitriona was so tempting standing there wrapped up like a bug in a rug. Meanwhile his hipbone felt as though it was on fire knowing that beneath that towel barrier was the naked skin of the woman he loved and adored. Although he couldn’t see it, Sam could certainly feel the heat of Cait’s body through the towel she wore; it was intoxicating and it was seriously affecting his libido. A groan threatened to escape from his lips, but he couldn’t move his body away from hers even if he wanted to.

“Yes … You’re shivering my love.”

Twisting her body all the way around Caitriona’s torso was suddenly flush with the man who had haunted her dreams and most of her waking hours for the last fourteen days. Eyes glimmering with burning anticipation bore through her gaze and the smile that bowed her lips was equally as telling. Her hands rested on Sam’s chest … his face mere inches from her lips.

“I know how you can fix that Heughan,” was her provocative taunt.

A raised eyebrow and a smirk greeted her laced words. “Do you now?”

“Yes … Kiss me.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~.

Her love was looking at her as though he was a dying man and she was his last meal. Seeing the look in Sam’s eyes, Caitriona’s heart seemed to miss a couple of beats as the intensity of his gaze registered in her brain.

His stare was mesmerizing and seemed to look deep within her soul. Sam’s gaze pierced her heart with such raw emotion registering in his eyes that Cait could only reciprocate the look in kind. She didn’t realise how very much his presence in her life mattered until he was not there. Since they had been married their separations had only been a day here and there but the fourteen days had really hurt … with a gut wrenching ache. Since he’d been gone overseas she had only just functioned every day and gone through the motions trying to keep herself busy knowing that they were having a family gathering on Christmas Day, but now her husband was back and all was right with the world. It had been like a death in the family and she had grieved for his loss.

Had Sam too?

Obviously he’d felt the same way for that look in his eyes told her everything about the intensity of his feelings and of love lost and now found, of separation and an imminent reconnection. Sam had often looked at her with a similar expression in his eyes, but what she saw this time was more than on previous occasions. He was being introspective and looking at her as if a vision had just been reincarnated in front of his eyes. A love as deep as he had for her was something Caitriona had never experienced before and having found such a wonderful man in Sam she was now complete. Having found each other was serendipity and she would forever be grateful that they had met the way they did. Her husband’s intense gaze and scrutiny excited Cait and made her nervous all at the same time. It was as if this amazing man was holding back a dam that at any moment would burst its banks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~.

Staring at her luscious mouth, Sam watched Cait’s tongue dart out to moisten her lips in eagerness of his kiss. That unconscious movement of hers always had him on the back foot. It was so sexy and it hit a nerve every time she did it. He wanted her so very much he too was aching for their connection. He’d anticipated their reunion all the way home from the airport and had nearly broken all of the road rules to get back to her. Caitriona too was tingling all over and shivers of delight and expectation of the taste of her husband’s lips was more than she could bear. She had missed him, just as much as he’d missed her but now that he was home in time for Christmas she was over the moon with happiness. All was as it should be.

Sliding his hands down the small of Cait’s back, Sam cupped her backside and gently savoured the feel of his wife’s taut flanks before pulling her body flush against him. They both recoiled with the erotic sensation that touching each other evoked overcome with the magic of what just a simple touch could do to their equilibrium. Cait felt the evidence of Sam’s aroused body against her and it felt so good to know that she had the same effect on him as he did on her. She bit down on her lip in response. Their eyes locked knowing what was forthcoming. Cait found herself staring at Sam’s lips, mesmerised by the curve … the shape … the remembered taste of them. The magnetic pull towards one another was undeniable. Reaching up Sam reverently touched Caitriona’s chin and with one finger slowly drew her mouth to his.

“I missed you babe more than you could ever know.”

“Me too.”

Her voice trailed off into a guttural moan as Sam bent his head and pressed his lips to her waiting, receptive mouth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~.

Once their lips brushed one another’s they were lost to the feelings of euphoria that had lain dormant for two long weeks of separation. A soft whimper bubbled up in Caitriona’s throat when Sam’s teeth gently teased her bottom lip. But it wasn’t enough … not nearly enough. His tongue traced her delectable top lip remembering how well they fit together. He loved her responsive kisses and how their mouths knew instinctively just what to do to tease the other to distraction. Relishing the deepening kisses that set her heart a fluttering, Cait followed wherever Sam led. They kissed like there was no tomorrow, barely separating to take in much needed oxygen before they asphyxiated. The power this woman had over him was frightening. Ragged breathing made his lungs shake as he gasped to find more air. Just the feeling of having Caitriona’s mouth against his once more sent a surge of desire ricocheting throughout Sam’s nervous system. Her sensual touch was making his body react in ungodly ways. He wanted her naked and against his skin.

Oh god. How he had missed her. Missed this. Missed his wife.

Completely lost to Sam’s kisses Caitriona neither cared if they made love here on the bathroom tiles or in their bed in the master suite. Her body had succumbed to a catharsis she was paralysed to avoid. Her limbs felt weak, for Sam had completely consumed her mind and body. If not for being held in his arms, Cait knew that she would sink to the floor in an amoebic puddle. However, before she could form any coherent thought, Sam’s hands were on her hips dancing her backwards towards the bathroom door and into their bedroom. With her arms around her love’s neck she held on for dear life for her knees felt as if they would buckle beneath her body. Sensual, slow kisses traced Caitriona’s face and neck as her husband’s lips glided down her throat before settling on the silky smooth skin of her exposed collarbone. She moaned in unbridled pleasure when his teeth bit down marking her skin in passion.

This was the best Christmas present she could ever have. Her husband was home safe and sound and he was in her arms. Nothing could possibly be better than this.

“Caitriona.”

“Sam?”

“Look at me.”

Her eyes flew open at the sound of guttural words that seemed to steal his breath away. Breaking from her overwhelming stupor, Cait looked up to study her husband’s face. What she saw shocked her. His eyes were blazing with a burning hunger as he searched her face with purpose. There was a predatory gleam in them that surely was matched in her eyes as well. They stared at one another the air around them suddenly almost buzzing with implicit, urgent need.

“I want you.”

“I want you too.”

Capturing Caitriona’s words into his mouth Sam placed his hands under her body lifting his wife up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way into their bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam gently lowered her legs to the floor and once more danced her towards their bed. As Cait felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her knees, her legs buckled from beneath her but Sam still held her safe. Supporting her body with his strong arms around her back, he put one knee on the bed, his thigh riding high between hers as he gently lowered his wife’s body to the soft covers. Still holding their passionate kiss, the feeling of his hard thigh between her legs made her hips involuntarily jerk towards him with an ache rapidly spiralling out of control. Awareness of the erotic sensations flowing between them filled the air with keen anticipation.

Her heart was almost pounding out of her chest. Caitriona’s need to have her husband’s touch was very real. If Sam didn’t touch her soon she would expire in front of him … her need was so great.

Sam saw the anguish on his wife’s beautiful face and knew exactly what he needed to do. Kneeling on the bed, he bent his head down to hers, and slowly traced the outline of her bottom lip with his tongue. Cait nearly levitated from the bed as the erotic slide of his tongue sent her into spasms of feelings. Ever so gently, his fingers brushed the newly dried hair back away from her face holding Caitriona’s gaze with a look that made the butterflies in her stomach do somersaults. Her hands reached out imploring him to come closer, kiss her more passionately but instead, Sam put his hands on either side of her head, teasingly holding his body away from hers.

“Sam, please!”

Cait’s breathing was laboured; her heart was pounding within her chest.

With warm lips touching her ear, he repeated the words he had just recently uttered once more. “I want you …”

Caitriona’s body nearly went into spasms at his words. Coupled with the sensual scrape of her husband’s stubbled jaw against her tender, newly bathed skin, she wondered if she would be able to breathe if he continued with this teasing. She hungered for what his words promised. However, Sam moved away from her and Cait felt bereft, but he only did so for an infinitesimal moment before leaning back down to whisper in her ear again.

Sam’s words hitched in his throat as the sexy timbre of his voice caressed her soul. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you every moment of every day for the last two weeks my love.”

“Oh Sam …”

“I’ve been planning in my mind what I was going to do to you when I walked through our front door.”

Smouldering heart eyes flickered so piercingly that Caitriona was at a loss for words. Her beloved was gazing down at her, his heart revealed unequivocally in his beautiful blue orbs. Overcome with emotion, she tenderly reached up to touch her husband’s handsome face and held his jaw within her trembling fingertips. Sam smiled at her … and Cait automatically went to water, her toes curled and her heart skipped a beat or two.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Winding her arms around his neck her fingers twisted into his curls before Sam reluctantly broke contact. She whimpered and looked pleadingly into his eyes with the ache for him that was buried deep within her now visible in her gaze. The desire in his eyes was just as keen as in hers. Sam held Cait transfixed as his hands moved to her chest where the towel was tied and tucked between the soft curves of her awesome breasts. He had the sudden urge to discover if the skin under that towel had the fresh, rosy glow of his love’s face. Caitriona felt the gentle slide of Sam’s fingers brushing with restraint, lightly over the swell of her breasts before outlining the edge of the bath towel where it pressed into her chest. Her breasts swelled with her husband’s reverent touch and she couldn’t help the husky sound of her breath exhaling. Her man surely tested her resolve for she was unravelling bit by bit.

The towel was a barrier to the treasures that lay beneath.

Hmmm? Not tied as tightly as I first thought.

Placing his hands to the valley between her breasts, Sam’s dexterous fingers untied the knot in the towel like he was unwrapping a much wanted Christmas present. When his arm brushed across her chest, unwittingly teasing her hardening nipples, Caitriona bit back the moan that was on the tip of her tongue. She closed her eyes and felt a shiver course through her body knowing that soon … very soon Sam would expose her nakedness to his eyes. Passion glazed eyes held hers as his fingers worked their magic in loosening the towelling material covering her body. It reminded her of when he had removed her corsets on their wedding night and Cait felt the same tingling in her groin as she did then. Little did she know that her husband was having similar thoughts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Caitriona looks as beautiful and alluring as she did on our wedding day.

As he gazed down at his wife, Sam couldn’t help but be reminded of what his bride looked like under her demure bridal gown. Slowly disrobing her from her wedding dress and then discovering the sexy woman hidden under the layer of silk blew his mind. She was the most beautiful, gorgeous and stunning woman he had ever seen. His heart stopped as her dress slid to the floor and revealed her in that sexy corset that just begged to be removed to reveal her curves and naked body to his gaze. He forgot to breathe as his eyes adored her as he’d lazily scanned over Cait’s breasts encased in the lacy bra of the corset, before meandering down across her stomach where the laces criss-crossed. He remembered that his voice had hitched when his eyes returned to see the desire and lust for him reciprocated in his wife’s eyes as well. Reluctantly severing his gaze, his eyes returned to continue his discovery of the lingerie Caitriona had worn to blow his mind. The suspender belt attached to her lace hose accentuated the long, long legs that he so loved, but when he saw the lace panties Cait wore under the sheer corset hugging her groin and the ribbon laces that begged to be untied, he knew he had let out a guttural groan. His throat had vibrated as his heartbeats accelerated imagining his beautiful wife nude on their marriage bed and the vision of them making love.

It was hard to believe that this siren, this alluring vixen was hidden beneath her elegant wedding dress and the surprises that were for his eyes only were waiting to be revealed when they were alone on their wedding night. Caitriona was a vision and he couldn’t wait to make love to her, she took his breath away, just like she was doing now. Sam knew that their reconnection would indeed rock his world off its axis.

Did it ever stop? Would he ever stop wanting her?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ end Chapter 3/9

#samcaitfanfic #outlanderfanfic #outlander:christmas #sam and cait #santa baby

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notjournal · 4 years

Text

sat, october 3

I am now going to write for half an hour. It’s 11:05, so I’ll stop at 11:35. Maybe this will be a useless exercise, but I think I should do it sometimes after I read, because that’s the only time I have thoughts. I have to hear someone else thinking to know what it’s like to do it myself.

I brought my new plant in from the dining room. Its leaves were cold from the constant force of the window unit. I hope I haven’t somehow killed it already by shoving metal clamps into its soil and playing it like an instrument. Except that it was an instrument and can be at any time. That must be traumatic for the plant, and I imagine its heart giving out from fear–like a baby rabbit dying of a sudden heart attack after being dragged into the living room by a housecat. I should use only inanimate objects with my circuit board instrument, or animate objects that can give me permission to touch them. Actually, I could shovel dirt from the driveway into cups and moisten them under the tap and use those as my keyboard. I wonder how the plant conducts–is it the water, or somehow the plant itself? It must be the water. A dead, dry, desiccated plant wouldn’t conduct, right? It’s nice to think of conduct in the orchestral sense next to the electric sense: a conductor is the conduit of electricity from the dead notes on the page to the living bodies and their instruments.

This morning, while I was half asleep, my thumb bent suddenly and painfully in half. The movement created a new crack in the wound, which my body is attempting to fill in. It’s oozing more pus than blood, so it’s taking forever to dry. I need to cover the wound and restrain my thumb so that there will be no more cracks. The wound feels cool. I can see pockets of fluid under the clear “skin”. It looks so much like a landscape that I want to paint it, or at least draw it. I’ll do that later today. The wound acts like a volcano–a crack opens up, blood oozes like lava and then dries to cover the hole. It’s fun to think of the analogy the other way around. Does lava harden to prevent infection in the earth’s gaping wound? What would infection look like? What if animals and trees and dirt fell inside the hole and weren’t consumed by heat but took root in that impossible environment, creating a new malicious biome? But the earth’s blood is much stronger than mine. It is built to burn and then to foster new life where that life’s supposed to be. My blood is not destructive enough, because I suppose then it would burn right through my skin and all of the other tiny organisms that help my body to survive (are they a part of my body too? Are they mine?). Thinking of the earth as a body makes my own body feel frail and weak, which obviously it is. I’ve learned that. My pus is a stretchy orange gel. I wonder if pus is better than blood at attacking an infection, and how the body decides which to send out. There’s a small white fleck on my wound that looks like a highlight at the right angle, creating the impression of a new bubble of fluid that worries me every time I see it.

The beeping has been going on all night, and I would love to know where it’s coming from so I could make it stop. It’s so irritating. It must be a smoke detector that’s out of battery.

My new book is about a fictional scholar studying a fictional poet. There are several things I want to think about. First of all, the women in the book are jaded and disappointed. The feminists are all looking for something that is supposedly not there, and their studies are portrayed as illegitimate. Roland’s longtime girlfriend Val wrote a paper called “Male Ventriloquism: The Women of Randolph Henry Ash” which “was judged to be a good work and discounted by the examiners as probably largely by Roland” (61). The irony is obvious, but I want to explain it to myself to see if I can get anything out of it. The paper is about how Ash’s female characters just ventriloquize the thoughts/ideas/opinions of the men and aren’t fully fleshed out people with their own thoughts and desires. They are puppets. The examiners thought that Val was ventriloquizing Roland in her paper, that she was his mouthpiece. If this were true, she would be ventriloquizing him for her own benefit–using the words of an Ash scholar to get a good mark, or whatever the standard for graduate students is. Would Ash’s female characters be ventriloquizing the men for their own benefit? Obviously it doesn’t work like that, since they’re characters of Ash’s own creation; they’re ventriloquizing him to an extent. But books don’t really work like that either, since characters can have different opinions than their author; they’re supposedly self-contained people. The women are not convincingly self-contained in this case. They seem like puppets because the things they express are too closely aligned with the views of the male characters; they do not express the things that one might expect a woman in their circumstance(s) to express. Val does not express the things the examiners expect her to express, is that it? Or is it just her proximity to Roland and her status as a woman? The irony is that the thoughts were her own; Roland doesn’t even agree with them. This is where books like this get blurry. The existence of sexism is simultaneously implied and dismissed. It’s implied because why else would the examiners discount Val’s work as being Roland’s? It’s implied because academic success evades her and she becomes a typist. And then it’s dismissed because the feminist scholars are looking for something in Ellen Ash that just isn’t there, at least according to Blackadder–“she spent a lot of time lying on the sofa, and that’s hardly unusual for a lady in her time and circumstances. Their real problem–and Beatrice’s–is that Ellen Ash is dull” (114). These are gross generalizations, and actually now that I think about it more Byatt is just writing about a sexist world. All disparaging opinions about feminism are expressed by men, and actually Fergus speaks favorably of feminists. I think it’s easier to come to this conclusion because Byatt is a woman, and a woman clearly knowledgeable about feminism, so why would she create a sexist book? The lines are blurrier in Wonder Boys. I’ve been writing longer than I meant to, so I’ll make the last thing short. I’m curious about the campus novel in general, but specifically when it’s about a fictional poet. Possession references plenty of real poets, but Ash is fictional (Crabb Robinson is real). Byatt wrote Ash’s poetry herself, and I wonder about the quality of fictional 19c poetry compared to the real thing (a different kind of ventriloquism!). I’m reminded of all the writing exercises we did in Colleen’s class. Is it a narcissistic exercise to have the protagonist obsess over poetry the author of the book wrote herself? That’s a funny thought. My brain is getting tired, and I don’t have anything else to say. I wrote for almost 45 minutes.

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sunshinejoon · 7 years

Text

2am (iv)

Summary: do you look to the rain coming from the sky or the rain pouring from his eyes?

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader // Genre: Angst

A/N: Wow this took much longer than expected. I’m so sorry for the delay, school and sports are consuming me right now and inspiration has been quite sparse. I hope the wait was worth it for those of you who follow this series. Thank you xx

As a child, you had always been criticized for being weak, whether it be physically or emotionally. Tears would rain down your face at test grades below 95 and broken zippers on raincoats, and other kids would ostracize you simply because you cared too much. As you matured, so did your heart. You made a warrior of yourself, declaring that nothing would ever affect you enough for your core to break. It made you untouchable, intimidating, and powerful. Years and years were sacrificed in order for you to grow strong. It was everything you had ever wanted to be.

Now, as the black of the night threatens to engulf your sanity, tears pierce the corners of your eyes, and your stomach churns at the mere idea of him seeing you shed them. Your armor is cracked, and now you’re back to the timid little girl you never wanted to be again. You hate the way your breath shakes as you inhale.

Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You hate the way he’s looking at you, the red of his left cheek screaming out at you, but you refuse to remove your gaze from the streetlamp illuminating the water droplets crashing onto the pavement behind him.

Eyes refusing to look, mouth refusing to speak, heartbeat refusing to slow.

His eyes are wet, cheek inflamed with pain, though not the physical kind. He reads the pain on your face, taking in every wrinkle of your nose, every quiver of your lip, and every flutter of your eyelashes. They’re habits he has long since memorized, taking every second over the time he’s known you to study you. He’s well acquainted with the gears that are constantly grinding inside your head, but you’ve shut him out. Your mind is his paradise, his muse, and now he’s locked out.

The crushing inside of his chest is unfathomable. Each breath is cautious and measured, as he is afraid of taking the oxygen away from you. God, if he could give it all, he would. Anything to get you to look him in the eye and listen to him through the brown of his eyes like you had so many times before; like you had read him so many times before. He hates how far you feel from him.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Speaking outside, you hoped, would alleviate the tension somehow, given the removal of Hoseok’s presence and the separation from the apartment, but being alone with Yoongi made it worse than before. The air was refreshing despite the chill, but the open space suddenly seemed too small. He was too close, the cold illuminating the unspoken syllables dwindling from his lips. The resonating red mark on his face fills you to the brim with guilt, ashamed that you ever even thought to lay your hands on someone you loved in that manner, no matter what they did.

The apology tumbles out before you even register it, and he shoots up as if you had said something explicit. Gaze still tied to the water beneath your feet, you count the steps he takes towards you. It’s the small proximity to his body that notifies you that the stench of perfume was not radiating off of him. Had you imagined back in the apartment? Was that how much it affected you? It was just a scent, yet your hallucinatory behavior begged to differ. It was everything, yet nothing at all.

The feeling of Yoongi’s arms wrapping around your body snapped you back into reality, his tight grip indicating a fear he knew he would never be able to vocalize. You melted into him instantly, though you told yourself not to give in, but he smelled like guitar wood again, and you reciprocated the embrace to pull him closer.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck, his wet eyelashes grazing your skin softly. “I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I love you more than I love anything on this earth. You’re my family; my muse; my everything.”

The hushed speech of his makes your heart lurch for him, eyes moistening with each sentence spoken, the rainfall in the background creating a melody you never wanted to stop hearing.

“I should’ve never yelled at you. God, the look on your face is still burning in my brain. I never should’ve left. I should’ve gone upstairs and held you and kissed you and told you how much I love you.”

“But you left. Left and went to someone else.” You responded, pushing him off of you gently as his possession over you slowly faded.

His were coated in hurt, looking down at his chest where you broke the embrace with your palms. “I went to my friend Sumi’s house. I’ve known her since I was a kid, and she always helps me destress. It all happened so fast.” He looks up at you to make sure you’re listening, and then clasps one of his hands with yours, staring down at it as he continued.

“I was just venting, trying to calm down, and she just started kissing me. I don’t know why she did it, but for a minute I let her. Fuck, I let her, and I knew it was wrong, I felt pathetic, just sitting there and letting her do that. I was so shocked that I couldn’t tell her to stop. I reached my senses eventually and pushed her off of me. I-I felt so guilty that I left without a word and drove back home. I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t sleep with her. I would never betray you like that.”

He brought his gaze back up to yours, and you were shocked to see full-fledged tears running down his pale cheeks. You cup his face to bring him closer, resting his forehead against yours as your worked up the courage to speak, though the ever-growing lump in your throat proved to be quite the obstacle as your breaths tripped over themselves. The rain had stopped, the only sounds left being the stuttered breathes of the two lovers standing at the bottom of the staircase.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale

“Please don’t leave. I am in love with you, and there will never come a time when I don’t love you. For the past year, I woke up at 2am with thoughts of only you, and I have a feeling that will never stop, either.”

Your lips entrapped his effortlessly, as it had become natural at that point. No thinking, no hesitation. It was small, it was light, but then his hands grabbed your face and he tattooed every word he had left unsaid onto your lips, passion overflowing onto the concrete. A thumb of yours soothingly rubbed his left cheek in silent apology.

He was the one to break the kiss, settling for resting his forehead against yours yet again as the cold yet again created phantoms from the pants leaving both of your mouths as you strive to catch your breaths.

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked, finally finding your voice despite the jumble of words stirring in your head. He tilted his head slightly, an old mannerism of his you had grown to love, with a puzzled look on his face. You look down and notice he had intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb rubbing the skin of your hand.

“All those things you told me that night…were they true?”

A heavy sigh followed your questioning, releasing one of his hands to rest on your cheek, the cold of his fingers contrasting with the way your skin flushed in heat with the closeness.

“I have never hated myself more than I did once I yelled at you. No, of course they aren’t true. I adore you. Every single part of you, no exceptions. You are my heart. Please forgive me…”

The implications of that last statement caused your heartbeat to run wild, and you were sure the storm in your eyes was more ruthless than his could ever dream of. After all this, after all the said to you, after he touched someone else, could you forgive him?

“You made me feel so useless. I felt like I was a burden.”

Inhale. Exhale.

“You’re my universe, Y/N. You’re the reason I am who I am. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Inhale. Exhale.

“You said all those awful things. Said them and then left me alone to let them destroy me.”

Inhale. Exhale.

“I want to spend the rest of my life; our life, making up for it. Forever.”

You shut your eyes, temporarily letting the feeling of his fingers on your skin guide your thoughts. It should have been a simple decision, but it was not. You could still imagine what the red of her lipstick would’ve looked like on his lips. You could still picture her straddling him, roaming her hands along the ridges and curves of his figure as she kissed him with fever. And him reciprocating—even for a moment—made your stomach churn and your chest shrivel up in an insatiable ache.

Inhale.

You open your eyes to see his again, anxiety peeking through the brown of his eyes. It was with the exhale that you made up your mind.

#yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #yoongi angst #bts angst #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #min yoongi fic #bts fic

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lukeysgirl · 7 years

Text

The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.7

Part S E V E N

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 3k+

AN: eep, i came back early from my small vacation aha ^^ anyways, hi! im so happy you guys are getting to like this series (makes me smile lots). im so sorry this part was a little delayed as i was away w/o my pc. but im here and will try to write much faster x oh, and 100 notes please <3

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E

Sunday

After sleeping through the rest of Saturday, you decided to stroll outside on a Sunday morning. And, of course, it was raining.

You draped on a large, gray sweater, the kind that was actually hand knit and not a generic made from a company. Your legs were hugged by navy blue leggings, which was ornate with unintentional holes. You shoved on a pair of green-gray Converse as you walked down the middle of the quiet, vacant road.

Your head was buzzing. Your body was slowly adapting back to its usual, completely-in-control setting as you slowly trotted down the road. The black road ornate with yellow streaks worth of paint shined from Natures produce. You felt the cool dollops moisten your face, feeling somewhat refreshed but annoyed. It hadn’t occurred to you to get an umbrella until you were too far to go back for one.

As you walked slowly, you suddenly found light making the road glisten before you. A honk proceeded, and that’s when your brain crashed. Pain ensured through your skull as you quickly held your head with your hand. A loud, high-pitched beep began in your ears, and you had begun offering deals to the Devil to make it all stop. So you walked over to the sidewalk, as that’s what you assumed the car wanted. But it remained still when you moved, so you turned to look over in curiosity.

“What the fuck are you doing in this rain?” A distant voice called, having you squint your eyes to see Luke Hemmings in the drivers seat. Just your luck. “Get in here!”

The Australian’s beckoning made you somewhat reluctant, but it was Luke. Your eyes scanned his ride, seeing a black colored who-knows-what right before you. It wasn’t required to know car names or brands, so you hadn’t been bothered to fill your mind with none of that. Slowly, you welcomed yourself back on the road before opening the door to shotgun and hopping in.

“What’re you doing out in the rain like that, Y/N?” Luke demanded, his voice 10 times as loud as you slowly and gently closed the car door. You hissed in pain, waving at him to lower his volume as you clipped the seat belt on. “Hungover?”

“Apparently,” you muttered, your voice sounding incredibly muffled. Your eyes diverted to Luke to eye him a bit. White tee, black jeans, black converse-- the usual with Luke. His lanky being was bent due to the seat, but his posture was proper with his blonde hair droopy and weak due to the rainfall. It was strange to see Luke out of school, even if that has happened often before. But this was a first to actually hop into the boys car.

“I’ll shut off my music then,” Luke said simply as he disconnected his iPhone from the AUX cord that was connected to the car. You appreciated this gesture and mumbled a quick thank you as Luke also began winding up the windows. “Back to my ask, though. Why are you out in the rain like that?”

“Like what?” You asked, looking down at your damp clothing. “I’m not butt naked, Hemmings.”

“But you could’ve at least tried to stay dry,” Luke said quietly, having you watch as he twisted his torso to direct his body to the back of his car. He began reaching for something, having pain annoy your eyes when diverting towards the back.

“I forgot my umbrella when it was too late,” you admitted, yawning right after. Tears began collecting in your eyes from it, indicating your exhaustion as Luke stopped his digging. Suddenly, Luke had tossed a warm objected on your lap. You felt the car begin to move as you stared down at the basil-colored object. It was a blanket, almost a small quilt as you rubbed your hands upon its silky texture. You opened it to spread it some more, feeling it cover all of your legs as you tugged it a bit up to cover your torso. You unintentionally too a whiff, and found it to smell exactly like Luke.

“Have you eaten yet?” Luke asked quietly, having you look up at the windshield to see nothing but wet road. Water droplets hit the window as the wipers kept coming in on beat to smear them away. You shook your head no, too tired to keep using your vocals as you watched the road. “Alright, let’s go to a diner.”

“I don’t have that kind of money,” you admitted embarrassingly.

“I didn’t ask if you did,” Luke said simply, shutting you down as you watched the road in defeat.

The two of you were seated in a booth, across from one another.

80s music boomed the restaurant, thanking the restaurant mentally for the choice of Michael Jackson. People were ornate all over the retro scene, most of them being seniors. Wisps of red and shiny silver were the rhythm of the place, with waitresses forced to wear yellow polo’s and short, red skirts. They were skating around the place, having you question if they could be good at ice skating.

“Order whatever you’d like,” Luke began, giving you his genuine, small smile as he held up his menu. You left yours lying on the table, studying the disgusting stains of food from previous customers. You then shut your eyes as you pushed your menu a bit away from you. “Do you already know what you want?”

“I’m not eating anything,” you muttered, your sight pitch black as you listened to Billie Jean dance around the joint.

“Oh?” Luke responded in a shocked tone. “Why not?”

“Because you’re trying to pay for it,” you admitted with a gulp. “And I’m not in the mood to bother with debt.”

“Then tell me this: why didn’t you eat at home?” Luke asked, having you open your eyes at his words. You couldn’t come up with a valid point without exposing the entirety of your life, having you purse your lips as you looked down at the menu.

“I’m not hungry,” you lied, twiddling your thumbs as you listened to the rain become more harsh beside you. You were far too stubborn, and you could admit that proudly. Everyone hated owing people. Especially owing to someone as kind as Luke Hemmings.

“Then I’ll just order everything on the menu, and eat as much as I can,” Luke began, diverting your eyes to see his stern expression. You were in disbelief, attempting to find bluff somewhere in his ocean eyes. But they hadn’t dared stared somewhere else, seeing nothing but seriousness in them. Luke then turned over and rose his arm, his eyes searching for a body. “Waitress!”

“I’ll have pancakes,” you spat, grumpily slugging into the uncomfortable, red couch of the booth as a skater girl came over. She rose her notepad over, barely looking at you before ogling Luke.

“What would you like?” The waitress asked kindly, seeming unsatisfied with her own performance. It was likely she thought you and Luke were a thing and was unable to flirt with him. You felt bad for mentally laughing at the girl as Luke told her the orders. You were far too tired to be bothered to stare her down and take in her appearance and features. As soon as she left, you diverted your eyes back to Luke and crinkled your nose.

“She wanted to get in your pants,” you respond bluntly, having Luke snort before taking a sip of his tap water. He was quick to drop his smile and stared at you intensely, having you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Why were you so mean with Nadia?” Luke asked, having you stare at his immensely stern face. How did he get that from her wanting to fuck him?

“Ha ha,” you sarcastically laughed as you grabbed your own cup and took a sip. “It’s not like I want to be. I’d rather save my energy than lash at her.” And that was the full and utter truth.

“Then what was with the cruel remarks?” Luke began quietly. “I understand you defend yourself when she’s being a bitch, but it seemed like you had a genuine grudge on her.”

“Ah, she was being dumb earlier at the party at the bar,” you said simply as you grabbed the covered straw at the side and began opening it. “She had started by calling me ugly, but that’s not the thing that really pissed me off.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.” You felt suddenly challenged by Luke for some reason. It was stupid to request elaboration from you when your words should be the most trusted. At least, in your opinion.

“I mean, she called Des an ape and made fun of Savannah’s dyslexia,” you replied, dropped the straw in the cup and watched it swirl down until it hit the bottom. You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling goosebumps dry from the coolness of the restaurant striking at your fairly damp clothing. “So if you wanted me to stand there like a useless piece of shit, you’ve got to be some sort of stupid. Racist and ignorant, that girl.”

“Alex splashed her beer on her,” Luke tries. You laughed bitterly.

“I don’t control the girl, but she needed to cool down,” you joked, but Luke didn’t take that kindly. He slammed both of his hands on the table, having it shake while releasing a very loud noise. Pairs of eyes around you diverted to your booth, having you look at Luke in shock as he looked immensely annoyed. A vein was crawling up his left temple as he studied you angrily. Intense ripples developed in both cups of water as it danced to the center of the cups before returning to the rims.

“Stop acting like you were justified!” Luke barked, leaving you slightly agape as his ocean eyes danced with vexation. “I get what she said was disgusting but you’re not the bigger man here!”

“Lower your fucking voice with me, Hemmings,” you growled, refusing to take that from him. Your heartbeat was loud and clear in your head, making your skull throb with Luke’s loud tone adding to it. “I don’t fucking understand what you want me to do-- apologize? You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’ll be doing that.”

“No, but you should realize that you were not completely in the right here,” Luke barked, bending his fingers as the tips were firmly on the table. “Alexis went a little too far and you should not be proud of her.”

“Why the hell are you trying to scold me like you’re my boyfriend?” You spat, having Luke’s eyes somewhat lighten from your words. You held yourself from saying father. “You’re clearly not my boyfriend, Luke, so don’t start.” You then stared a little more and allowed gears to run in your head. “Oh I see...”

“See what?”

“You’re her boyfriend, huh?” You accused, having you lean back and let out a cold chuckle. “What a catch she is. No wonder why you couldn’t help yourself last night and let me get taken by another pair of arms.”

“Your assumptions are beyond me sometimes, Y/N,” Luke said with an awestruck smile. “I’m not dating Nadia, nor will I ever want to. It wasn’t my fault that you chose to let Nathan take you home. Did he even take you to your house?”

“Oh man,” you dragged, smiling from disbelief as you stared at the obviously jealous Luke. “Are you jealous, Luke?”

“Yes, I fucking am!” Luke barked, placing his forehead on his hand to let out an aggravated sigh. You shook your head, slightly pissed that he was using up your energy just because he was a little jealous. “I said I love you, Y/N. Did you think I’d be cool with Nathan taking you home?”

“I asked you to take me home, Luke,” you began darkly, having Luke’s face soften. His eyebrows rose, his blue eyes turned like the sky, and those rough lips barely parted. “Did you think I was cool with Nathan taking me home?” Luke fell silent, having you let out a shaky sigh as you stacked the two menus and leaned it at the edge for a waitress to come and retrieve them. “That’s what I thought.”

“But you didn’t do anything,” Luke began quietly, diverting his eyes down to his lap. “You didn’t beg for me to come over, you didn’t try to get out of his arms. You didn’t let me do what you asked of me, Y/N.”

“Luke, I was fucking drunk,” you began, having Luke wince as you spewed those words. “I was drunk, and at that time, I relied on you. We’re not close, but you always put in effort in finding reason to be around me so I trusted you more than anyone there. My girlfriends were too busy having a ball and I didn’t want to ruin that for them. I didn’t want to ruin that for you either but I really wanted your help just this once. And I know how much you want to help me.”

“Y/N...” Luke muttered, allowing himself to trail off so you can continue. But he didn’t stop there. “You left with that prick anyways, even when I was calling your name.”

“Did you think I wanted to?” You glared at Luke, unsure as to how stupid he could really be. “Nathan took me home because you let me go and he caught me. I was drunk and he just so happened to pop up and steal your damn thunder. So I’m sorry if you’re mad but the only thing I owe you was going to the party and I did go. That’s it.”

The two of you held an annoying silence. The several pairs of eyes remained as you locked eyes with Luke. His azure orbs glistened, seeing the pupils shake as they dilated. A sudden fatigue arrived and you found yourself moving towards the window to lean your head against the window. Luke watched you, seeing you stare outside where the rain was pouring and bodies of waters walked around with their portable roofs worth of umbrellas.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said gently but you were quick to wave him off.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said simply while diverting your eyes back to the blonde. He moved over as well so he could be exactly across from you. “I’m only taking it if it’s solely over raising your voice at me because my head is searing right now.”

“Ah shit, m’sorry, Y/N,” Luke began, his cheeks flaring pink as he as well leaned his head on the window. You two locked a stare and stayed there for a few moments to cherish the quietness. But the noise surged back after the two of you had quieted down and that made you disappointed. “I’m glad he took you home though. He gets some tolerance for that.”

“Oh wow, how rewarding,” you began sarcastically, allowing a soft smile to paint your lips as Luke smiled back. You didn’t want to admit, but his gentle smiles were very sweet and full of warmth. It made the coolness that you currently felt disappear. “You’re something else, Luke.”

“Ditto,” Luke said with a small snort. His sharp nose crinkled a bit as he did and something hit your heart so suddenly right after. “I’m surprised you didn’t have some dignified last words before storming out of the diner in the rain.”

“D’you think this is a real like teenage drama show?” You exclaimed, having Luke chuckle as you rolled your eyes. “You wish. It’s effort to be petty, Luke. I’d also like to point out that the rain is falling onto earth like fucking bullets, so you’re insane if you thought I was gonna storm out of here over that.”

“Ha,” Luke hummed, grinning at your stupid pun as you gave him a small smile. “I still am sorry for that really brief argument I started. Is there anything I could do to prove it?”

Before you could say a thing, your waitress returned to place several plates of food on the booth’s table. Fluffy hot cakes with eggs and bacon, ornate with pepper and salts of the spice family. Bowls of berries that looked too much like art to even be real. Cups of milk and orange juice joined the party as she grabbed your menus. You and Luke muttered your gratitude, receiving a simple nod before she skated away.

“Then I guess this will be it,” you began quietly. “I won’t pay for my meal and I won’t force you to take my money because I said I owed you.”

That’s when Luke erupted with laughter. You watched as he covered his mouth, uttering soft laughter from his mouth as his eyes squinted. Through the slivers, you could see his blue eyes gradually being coated with hysterical tears as he let out his laughs. You could help but grin at how endearing it was.

“Y/N,” Luke began as he picked up a fork and a knife. He sliced a fine cut of his hotcakes and took it in his mouth, chewing quickly before forcing it down. “I wasn’t going to take your money anyways.” You rolled your eyes, picking up your utensils as you looked at his triumph smile.

“And you thought I was going to give you the money directly?” You hummed, cutting your own pancakes slowly. “I was going to hide it in a common place where you’d sift it out and find it. A pleasant surprise that’ll take you a few minutes to realize why it was there.”

“Then you can keep your money,” Luke chuckled.

“Huh?” You responded with a puzzled expression. “Why?”

“Because the money would end up at my dick and I’d have to pay you for the service,” Luke replied cheekily, having you flush before throwing one of your blueberries at him.

“PG, Hemmings,” you hissed, having him laugh as he took another bite of his food into his mouth.

you already know-- tell me what you think right over here please and i hope you guys enjoyed this xx

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tigerkid14 · 7 years

Text

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Bering and Wells - Post 4x20

This one has been hiding out among my drafts for a while now, apparently.

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

Myka opened exhausted, drug heavy eyelids to look at her hospital room. Straight ahead of her was a small counter and sink. To her left was the IV pole, humming away while periodically making clicking noises like a VCR trying to rewind a tape that’s already been rewound. Her sleepy eyes made the whole room look blurry and it was hard to focus beyond the haze of drugs that kept the pain at bay.

But something had awoken her. There had been something in the confusion of hospital noises in the hallway and relative silence of the room that had called for her attention and she knew she would not rest until she figured it out. So she tried to make her drug addled mind concentrate long enough to determine the cause of her awakening.

Then a slight movement to her right made her swing her blurred gaze in that direction and Helena came into focus. She was sitting on the reclining hospital chair that the nurses had moved into the room when they figured out that Pete, Artie, and Steve would be taking turns staying long shifts with Myka whenever the chaos at the Warehouse permitted. It was supposed to be more comfortable for visitors and theoretically they could sleep in it though Myka secretly suspected none of them did.

Myka stared at Helena her poor mind trying to race but unable to do much more than note how perfectly clear Helena looked despite the blurring of the rest of the room around her. Helena was simply looking back at her, saying nothing while her eyes projected a lifetime’s worth of hurt, sleeplessness, fear, relief, affection, tenderness, and something Myka would almost be willing to say was love.

“What…” Myka attempted to croak but the dryness in her throat started her coughing and even as she looked for the glass of water she knew was somewhere near her bed, Helena rose gracefully to her feet, picked up the cup Myka had not yet seen, and was helping her position the straw so she could moisten her mouth and throat. Then Helena put the cup down and returned to her seat, all the while watching Myka who knew she was staring but could not be bothered to care about her lapse in manners.

There was a long pause as they continued looking at each other then Myka tried again. “What are you doing here?” She asked it with no accusation, no concern; just genuine curiosity. Part of her rational brain wondered silently if maybe she was hallucinating Helena’s presence. It would explain why she appeared to be so in focus while everything else shimmered like it was barely hanging on to the edge of reality.

Somehow in this moment, Helena seemed more real than reality and if Myka were being totally truthful, the idea of that scared her so much she found herself hoping it was just a hallucination. But then Helena spoke and Myka knew this was no dream, no figment of her imagination. Her imagination had never been this good at imitating Helena’s voice.

“I came to see you, darling, since I’d heard that you were feeling poorly.” It was an explanation that left out a great many things but delivered in that deliberately light tone of voice, it was plain even to Myka’s tired brain that Helena had done so on purpose. The look she was giving Myka also made plain that she was discouraging any further questions on the matter. That had never been enough to stop Myka before though and she tried to clear her mind enough to ask all the questions she was sure she ought to have.

“But who--? How--?” She stopped, unable to figure out how she wanted to phrase that question. Thankfully, Helena seemed to understand what she was trying to ask. “Apparently, despite all the uproar in the Warehouse the Farnsworths still work perfectly adequately. When Pete informed Claudia of your illness, she devised a way to contact me. I shall, of course, say nothing of the fact it was Claudia who informed me you were ill and had just undergone a major medical procedure.”

There was a bite to Helena’s tone as she made the comment and she moved to stand next to the bed, her eyes boring into Myka’s with an intensity that was more than a little disconcerting and the hurt and anger in them was easy for Myka to read. Despite the anger in her voice and body language, Helena’s hand was still gentle as it reached out and caressed the side of Myka’s face.

When she spoke again her words were delivered in a playful manner and light tone but it was clear they carried a serious undertone. “I’m sure we shall, of course, manage to set aside time when you are well to discuss your gross oversight in that arena and your blatant tendency to attempt to manage life or death events on your own in a manner that borders on outright recklessness.”

Myka opened her mouth but gentle fingers to her slightly chapped lips stopped her from giving voice to her protest. “Enough for now, darling. You’re supposed to be resting and I can see you are tired.” Myka would have objected to Helena’s commanding tone but she found she didn’t have the energy to protest though she did her best to glare her irritation anyway. Helena had the audacity to smile at her.

It had to be the drugs, Myka decided as her eyes started to close of their own accord. It was the drugs that made the world seem as though it was only Helena who was in focus. That sort of clarity couldn’t be found in one person alone, right? She felt rather than heard Helena sit back down in her chair.

As she drifted off to sleep she finally figured out what it was that had woken her in the first place. It hadn’t been any sound. It was that she felt safe now. It had felt so strange that it had been enough to disturb her troubled rest. Safe. She mused as she felt her mind shutting down. Helena makes me feel safe. Helena makes me feel loved. It was her final thought as she finally returned to her healing slumber, clarity having arrived at last.

#Tigerkid writes #Bering and Wells #Warehouse 13

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capricxs · 5 years

Note

👙 leaving the item up to the creative genius

👙 Pull [an article of clothing = TOWEL] off my muse

juliet’s brand was stoicism. she was know for being cold, hard to read, and an absolute bitch. but, frankly, every bitch has their weakness juliet’s weakness just seemed to be the same one as when she was fifteen.

“i mean, she doesn’t come from money.” christine shrugs, leaning over to show juliet the pictures of herself and her latest partner. she was pretty. striking, honestly. but chris always picked the most beautiful people— probably because she, herself, was one of the most beautiful persons on this ugly planet. “she’s actually, like, super middle class. you know how refreshing that is? last week we just rode the train for hours.”

juliet imagines that. wrapped up in light jackets, possibly scarves. chris isn’t one much for pda, just like her cousin. maybe they held hands. the first hour she could see them having animated conversations, leaning into each other a bit too close when they laughed. eventually, they’d get quiet and just stare out the window, even when they were underground. the image was happy.

“what does she do?” juliet asks casually.

“she works in advertising. i’d run into her after doing a shoot for the company her firm was working with.” she shrugs. “i offered to do portraits for her, and— well…” juliet didn’t need to know the rest. she knew full well what those shoots consisted of.

the elevator doors slid open, and their heels clicked against the flooring as they walked down the hall to her apartment. “well, chris, working in advertising sounds a bit like upper middle class to me.” juliet states, adjusting her purse over her shoulder, and the few shopping bags to rest on her arm as she fished for her keys. “i think being a teacher, or something, would be more what you’re thinking.”

“i’d still date her if she was a teacher.”

“right.” juliet narrows her eyes. it was less about the money, and more about the idea of someone working with children, who cares that much, with chris, seemed out of character. “stick with this advertising girl. she sounds smart.” even though jules knew nothing about her.

she pushed the door open, strutting down the small hall, setting the bags on the counter, and sliding from her heels. she turns to see chris following, locking the door behind herself, and setting her own bags beside juliet’s. “i intend to. i think she could stick.” to be fair, chris says that about nearly all of them. juliet knows she means it when she says it. oddly enough, for someone related to juliet, and for having that stoic blood in her body, she had a wild beating heart that loved fast and hard. juliet always liked to believe she was right.

even when she was wrong, the heartbreak was never quite like the level jules was used to. chris was much better at this stuff than she was.

“who’s sticking?” marcus interrupts them, making juliet jump as she turns around.

her heart nearly leaps out of her throat, at the same time as her lungs stopping, and her brain nearly fucking shorting out. because he’s standing in her bedroom doorway, hair towel-dried, messy and unkempt. he’s got a towel low on his hips. his hand it raised and pressed against the doorway. if this were another circumstance where he didn’t hold such power over him, she’d sense that it was clearly a staged position— but fuck he looked cool, leaning with his hand pressed tot he wood, his chest still glistening with drops of water, the laziest smirk placed across his lips.

“oh,” juliet sighs, audibly. it’s a bit embarrassing considering her cousin is right beside her.

then again, chris has seen almost all of it. watching her swoon over marcus is nothing new. far from it.

“hey marcus.” chris finally said. “i’m dating this girl, carol. she’s hot.”

“good for you, chris.” he nods, still pressing against the door. juliet still hadn’t taken her eyes off of him, her mouth visibly hanging open. marcus flashed his eyes towards her, smirking even more.

“this was fast, huh?” chris reaches to sip her starbucks cup, raising her eyebrows at marcus and jules. the gio thing was still on some people’s lips in new york, and juliet and marcus had only been seeing each other for a few weeks. they were doing a good job of keeping it quiet. especially considering christine didn’t know until now. “you know what? nevermind. i should get going.” she reaches to grab her bags, stepping back into her shoes.

suddenly, juliet was able to peel out of her trance and closed her mouth, moistening her tongue again and rubbing over her face to bring her back to reality. “are— are you sure? what about dinner?” her tone wasn’t really that upset, mostly coming out obligatory.

“don’t worry about it. rain check or whatever.” she’s already starting for the door. the nice thing is, chris doesn’t give two shits. she’s spent so much of her life hanging around the two of them, their antics never really get to her. at least, not in front of them. she really appreciated that. “later!” she says, closing the door behind her.

silence. and then, “you good, dolenski?” he straightens himself, standing straight and moving closer to her.

“no.” she swallows, looking him over for what felt like the hundredth time. “i didn’t know you were coming over.”

“that’s the point.” he grins, his hands moving to slide off her coat.

he was an absolute fucking idiot, and she wanted to slap him sometimes. he was the cute boy who got a little too excited sometimes, or had a tendency to propose to her every six months. he crushed her soul. he also looked like that. the absolute idiot was gone and she wanted to whimper for him. she was weak. she was obsolete.

her jacket was draped over the chair and she was left in her crop top and jeans, looking over him as he still dripped form the shower, his eyes boring into her. her hands, which trembled, reached in front of her, fingers looping in his towel, pulling it away and letting it fall to the floor.

“bold,” he says, his teeth poking out in his wild grin. then her hand started reaching for him, making his head tip back with a stifled moan. his jaw flexed and she reached up, taking the skin between her teeth for a moment. his groans vibrate in his chest, which her free fingers press to, hoping to feel every bit of him. but she wanted him. so her lips moved down his jaw, to his neck, and down his shoulder.

slowly, she got down on her knees, her fingers pressing to his hips as she started kissing, nipping at his skin, hearing the light hisses as his fingers began to slide into her hair. she loved looking up at him

#hewolf #* otp: juliet & marcus.#👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

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milenasanchezmk · 7 years

Text

7 Healthy Coffee Ideas for Every Primal Taste

Normally, I’m deep in the thick of nutritional research or other heady topics midweek. Today, not so much. I have coffee on the brain after trying a few new concoctions recently. As I’ve noted in the past, coffee is a welcome part of the Primal Blueprint. Unlike traditional paleo, there’s no conflict here. While living healthily and sleeping well mean I don’t depend on coffee for energy, I consider it a positive staple in my diet, not to mention a pleasant ritual in my day.

I’ve gone into extensive detail about the copious benefits—to overall health, to disease prevention, to cognitive function, even to fitness performance—in the past. Today, I’m all about the actual intake. There’s plenty to the why, but this post covers several Primal ways to enjoy it right now. Let’s dig in….

Mocha

Cacao nibs are loaded with polyphenols, and a great source of saturated and monounsaturated fat. Add coconut milk (or whole cream), plus a drizzle of coconut oil to smooth out the chocolate emulsion, and this dark chocolate mocha is brimming with healthy fats.

Ingredients

1/4 cup cacao nibs

1 cup coconut milk or whole cream

2 teaspoons melted coconut oil

Instructions

Bring coconut milk or whole cream to a simmer in a small pot. Turn off heat and add cacao nibs. Let steep 5 minutes.

Blend the cacao mixture and coconut oil in a blender on high speed until smooth and frothy, about 1 minute. Strain through a fine mesh strainer, pushing down on the solids to release the liquid. Add a sweetener if desired. Pour the cacao milk into hot coffee, or chill it before adding to iced coffee. The cacao milk will keep in the fridge for about 5 days.

Macadamia Cream

Macadamia nuts are sweet and buttery fat bombs. Blend ‘em up into smooth cream for a rich and fatty cup of coffee that also has delicious macadamia flavor.

Ingredients

2 tablespoons macadamia butter*

3 tablespoons hot water

Instructions

Whisk together macadamia butter and hot water until smooth. Pour into a fine mesh sieve placed over a bowl. Press down with a spoon to release the smooth and creamy liquid into the bowl and separate it from any grainy solids. Whisk the macadamia cream from the bowl into your hot coffee.

*To make macadamia butter, simply blend raw or toasted unsalted macadamia nuts in a food processor until very smooth

Tahini Coffee

The high-fat sesame paste called tahini turns into a surprisingly delicious keto-friendly dessert cream when whisked with molasses and whole cream. Eat it alone, or stir the cream into your coffee.

Ingredients

1 tablespoon tahini

1 teaspoon blackstrap molasses

2 tablespoons whole cream

Instructions

Whisk together tahini, molasses and cream until completely smooth. Whisk the tahini cream into your hot coffee (or, just eat it for dessert with a spoon).

Chai Golden Milk Coffee

This spiced coffee is anti-inflammatory and antioxidant-rich. Chai Golden Milk (named after the Indian tea and the addition of turmeric) is delicious in hot or cold coffee. It’s also delicious without coffee when you want an uplifting caffeine-free beverage.

Ingredients

1 cup coconut milk or whole cream

1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric

1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger or ¼ teaspoon ground ginger

¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon

¼ teaspoon ground cardamom

1 teaspoon coconut oil

Instructions

Whisk milk, turmeric, ginger, cinnamon, cardamom and coconut oil in a small saucepan or pot and bring to a simmer. Remove from heat and let steep 5 minutes. Strain though a fine mesh strainer to remove the grit. Add a sweetener if desired. Pour as much as you like into your hot coffee, or chill the spiced milk for iced coffee.

Egg Frappe

A frothy, iced coffee drink with a boost from whole eggs and antioxidant- rich spices.

Ingredients

5 ounces coffee, double strength* (use twice the amount of ground coffee you would normally use for 5 oz water) (150 ml)

3 pastured eggs, whole

1 teaspoon raw honey (5 ml)

1/4 teaspoon vanilla (1.25 ml)

1/4 teaspoon of salt (1.25 ml)

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon (1.25 ml)

1/8 teaspoon cardamom (a pinch)

1/8 teaspoon turmeric (a pinch)

1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar** (a pinch)

2 ounces coconut milk (60 ml)

1 1/2 cups ice (a large handful)

*The coffee is brewed at double strength so the flavor isn’t diluted when blended with ice.

**Cream of tartar is optional. It helps stabilize the egg whites and make the drink frothier.

Instructions

Let the coffee cool slightly, then whisk in the eggs. Cool in freezer for 10 minutes.

While the coffee is chilling, combine honey, vanilla, salt, cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric, cream of tartar, coconut milk and ice in the blender. Blend briefly, so the ice cubes are broken into small pieces.

Pour the chilled Primal egg coffee into the blender. Blend again for 30 seconds or so, until the ice is slushy and the top is frothy.

Egg Coffee

A delicious alternative to Bulletproof coffee, this smooth and creamy coffee drink is brimming with micronutrients.

Ingredients

1 cup (240 ml) coffee

2 pastured eggs

1 tsp sugar

Pinch of salt

Instructions

Beating the eggs together, whole, as if you were making scrambled eggs (or blend them). For a 1-cup dose of coffee, use two whole eggs. Once the eggs are beaten or blended, slowly drizzle in the coffee. You don’t want to cook the eggs. You want them to stay creamy. If you’re concerned about the avidin in the raw white, dump the coffee in to ensure maximal heat exposure. Otherwise, just drizzle.

A higher egg:coffee ratio (using a large shot of espresso, for example) for a stronger coffee flavor works well, too.

Add a little sweetener plus some salt to make the coffee taste like a liquified custard.

Vanilla Collagen Fuel Coffee

The sweet vanilla flavor and healing collagen found in Primal Kitchen® Collagen Fuel are a superior alternative to sugary, flavored coffee drinks.

Ingredients

5-8 ounces of brewed coffee

1 scoop of Vanilla Primal Kitchen Collagen Fuel

Instructions

Fill your mug about 1/4 the way with brewed coffee. Mix one scoop of Primal Kitchen Collagen Fuel well enough to make a paste. (I use Vanilla, but Chocolate would work well for a mocha flavor if you prefer.) Then fill the remainder of your mug with coffee. Stir well, and enjoy!

How to Make Cold Brew

Cold brew is all the rage and for good reason; it’s less acidic and has a bolder flavor than iced coffee, which can taste watered down or bitter. As opposed to iced coffee, which is brewed hot then chilled, cold brew is brewed in cold water. Buying cold brew from a coffee shop can be spendy. Luckily, it’s easy to make at home. Here’s how to make cold brew:

A ratio of 1 cup whole coffee beans to 4 1/2 cups water will give you a strong brew.

Don’t grind the beans too finely or they’ll cloud up the coffee. A coarse grind is better for cold brew.

Put the coarsely ground coffee beans in a glass pitcher, tall container, or coffee press. If using a pitcher or container, you’ll need cheesecloth to strain the grounds later.

Slowly pour in the 4 ½ cups cold water, gently stirring as you pour to moisten all the coffee grounds.

Lightly cover the container, or put the lid on the French press (don’t press it down). Let stand in the refrigerator 12 hours.

If using cheesecloth, line a fine mesh sieve with the cheesecloth and set the sieve over a large pitcher or deep container. Pour the coffee into the cheesecloth-lined sieve and give the water a few minutes to filter through the grounds.

If using a French press, simply press down the plunger and push the grounds to the bottom.

Once the grounds are separated from the coffee, your cold brew is done!

Cold brew keeps well for a week or more in the refrigerator.

Tip: Don’t want to dilute your cold brew at all? Make coffee ice cubes to float in your cup of cold brew.

That’s all for me, folks. I’ll wager many of you have your own creations to share. Offer your ideas and any questions on the board, and take care.

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watsonrodriquezie · 7 years