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abbyromanoff · 10 months

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I've got a request. Not really sure about the details, but I'm sure you could work that out, being the amazing writer that you are :)

It's a really vague idea, I guess, but something along the lines of wanda being a fallen angel who has sided with heaven, and Nat being a fallen angel who has sided with hell. They both fall for Fem! Reader and try to get them to support their respective sides

Let me know if this isn't something you're comfortable with writing. Thank you so much :)

YOUR DECISION

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader, Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 2,704

WARNINGS: R cheating (not really), making out, “bad boy” Nat, church girl!Wanda, self-homophobia, hidden relationships, Wanda cheating on vision, love affairs, love triangle, small sexual themes, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“C’mon, can’t you stay the night just this once?” The redhead begged, holding your hand in order to keep you close. She tried pulling you closer to no avail as you started gathering your clothes.

“You know I can’t, Nat.” She groaned, flopping back on the bed and exposing part of her nude body. You bit your lip, forcing your gaze off of her before you did end up listening to her.

“My parents think I’m still at the library, they’ll be pissed if they find out I’m here.” Nat wasn’t known greatly around the area, mainly for her delinquent acts that got her into multiple jail cells. In your eyes, she was just misunderstood, nobody saw the side of her that you did. She was soft, a sweetheart who just wanted to find her person, but she already knew that person was you.

But then there was Wanda, the priest's daughter and your childhood best friend. You knew of her feelings for you, yet you tried to deny they existed. You liked her in more ways that you wish you did, but she wasn’t out yet, and she probably never would be. And she had a boyfriend, Vision. She didn’t seem to have a true interest in him, only one that she’d make up and exaggerate so someone would believe her when she said she loves him.

“Just tell them you’re sleeping over a friend’s. Tell them it’s Wanda, aren’t you guys like, I don’t know, best friends?” She pulled you down to sit on her lap, her hands holding you close by your waist. You smiled down at her and debated the option in your mind, was it worth the risk? Anything was worth it when it came to her, but you truly couldn’t stay.

“I wish I could, I do.” She pouted playfully, soon feeling your fingers turning her lips upward.

“Turn that frown upside down, I want to see you smile.” She gripped you just a bit tighter, hoping to keep you in her grasp forever.

“How am I supposed to be happy when you’re leaving me?” You rolled your eyes at her antics, slapping her shoulder with no real indication to cause pain. She threw an overplayed gasp your way in response.

“How about this, I go home tonight, but next weekend I’ll convince my parents to let me stay the night at a ‘friends’ house?” Your statement seemed to bring her slight joy as a grin made its way to her face. She leaned in to kiss you, muttering words between each one.

“As long as I have you, baby.” You got home with multiple different texts from two women: Wanda and Natasha. The redhead was telling you how much she missed you already and how she couldn’t wait to see you again while Wanda had been asking why you weren’t answering her calls. You sighed, running your fingers through your hair as you decided to ring the woman, hearing her voice on the other end of the line only seconds after.

“Where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for an hour!”

“Relax, I was at the library.” You could tell she didn’t believe you, you were best friends after all, she knew every lie you told.

“You know lying is a sin, Y/N.” She teased, and you could hear the sound of her clothes hitting the floor. She was most likely changing, yet you couldn’t help the less innocent thoughts from approaching.

“Were you with Nat again?” She knew of your unlabeled relationship with the troublemaker and openly expressed her hatred towards it. But you didn’t care to listen, too drunk on her love to think of anything else. You were first using her as a way to get over Wanda, but then you caught feelings. Nat made hers pretty obvious, she wanted something with you, a real relationship where she could hold your hand in public and kiss you whenever, but you were both waiting for the time to be right.

“I shouldn’t even ask at this point, you’re already always there.” You could sense the annoyance floating through her voice and groaned internally. You couldn’t deal with this right now, you just wanted to get home and relax. It was dark out and you continued to look each way in fear, your legs quickening in speed the colder you felt.

“Please don’t say that, you know it’s not true.” She ended the call after a small ‘whatever’ and it dawned on you just how frustrated she seemed. It wasn’t your fault she couldn’t come to terms with herself, you were just moving on. And if she didn’t want to accept that then she didn’t have to, but you were happy with Nat, even if you didn't exactly know what you two were, it still brought excitement whenever you’d see her or touch her. Her soft skin against yours just felt right, you didn’t have a word to explain it other than that, everything just seemed to make sense when you were with her.

Your parents were instantly questioning you once you got home, but you just shut them down with the fact that finals were headed your way. They seem to understand and let you go with a deep sigh, not fully believing your hidden lie.

You decided to finally check your phone after multiple unanswered texts made their way to your screen. A small smile seemed to form on your face when reading all that Nat had to say, you didn’t understand how she and her family were known as the ‘devil of the town’ when she was so loving. All she ever did was care for you, she had changed from her old ways and turned into something so amazing and kind, yet it was reserved only for you.

“Yes, Nat?” You dragged out, resting your phone on the bedside table as you started to rid yourself of your clothing. You grabbed the shirt she had given you a few weeks back, it was a bit large and you loved it. You then put on a pair of boxers and turned off your lights before laying down in bed, feeling all of your tense muscles start to ease.

“I missed you, baby.” You chuckled and earned a groan on the other end of the line.

“Don’t laugh at me, my bed is so cold without you.” The rest of your two hours were spent quietly giggling and talking with the redhead before you fell into a deep sleep, being unable to hear the words whispered out of Nat’s mouth. She was content, all she ever wanted was you, even if she used horrid ways of showing it in the past.

“Why do you look so tired?” Wanda asked you the next morning when taking notice of your eye bags and occasional yawns. You turned to look at her, removing your attention from the man on the podium and locking it onto her.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You whispered. You hated lying to the woman, but you knew it would just bring more vexation if you were to tell the truth. She could tell there was more, but she held back. There was no point in pushing if she’d receive nothing in return.

The next hour dragged on painfully long with Wanda’s worries only continuing. She just wanted your attention the way she used to, yet yours was on another. Nat wasn’t good for you but she was, she just didn’t seem to understand how deep your love for her went.

“Wanda, wait.” You called out after the ceremony, watching her grab her things as she was rushing to her car. She turned to look at you, urging you to go on the closer you got to her.

“Can I talk to you? Alone?” You were surrounded by no one, seeming as most parents and their children were forced to keep conversation with the other towns folk. She didn’t speak, only giving you a curt nod before opening the back door. She came with her parents just like she had done for her entire 19 years of living. It was just easier.

She signaled for you to get in and you did, following behind her as she smoothed out her dress on the seat.

“Mom and Dad should be out soon, they won’t mind if you come over.” Her parents loved you, even taking to ask where you had been ever since the distance between you and Wanda grew. You wanted to see the woman, but it seemed as though she didn’t want to see you.

“Hey, Y/N! We were wondering where you’ve been!” Her mother cheerfully pitched with a smile that you shared. A small conversation grew between the three of you, yet the daughter stayed silenced. Even when you arrived at your destination her mouth didn’t open. It wasn’t until she opened her bedroom door for you both that she finally spoke, it felt relaxing to finally hear her voice in person again. It felt like forever since you did, even if it was only a few minutes.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” She refused to look at you, knowing it would be too hard on her.

“I think you know, Wands.” The nickname brought a saddened smile to her face that quivered, it was one full of memories and lost time.

“I know you found out months ago about my feelings for you, but I didn’t think it would ruin our friendship.” You stalked behind her, noticing the nervous twitching of the rings on her fingers. You grabbed them, interlacing your hand with hers as she released a deep breath.

“I’m not mad at you for that.” You turned her around gently so she would face you, the soft features on her face bringing a longing that you wished to fill.

“Then what is it? Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix this, so I can fix us.” You wanted her to admit the feelings she had been harboring for so long, it had been gnawing at her for months, even before she knew of your shared love.

“Please, Wanda. I love you too much to lose you.” You begged, and it nearly brought tears to the woman’s eyes. The same eyes you found yourself often lost in, just admiring her beauty that you cherished greatly.

“I’m not mad at you for liking me, I’m upset because you never did anything.” She finally spoke so quietly that you almost didn’t hear her. Even with your knowledge of her growing crush, the words still sent shivers down your spine and caused your face to falter.

“I-“

“Please don’t say anything, this is already embarrassing enough.” For a split second, you worried over the possibility of her parents barging in, but it soon faded the closer you got to Wanda. She tried to scurry out of your hold, only to feel your arms on her waist, locking her in place.

“Look at me. Please look at me, sweetheart.” She couldn’t meet your eyes without taking notice of your lips that were nearly begging to be pecked. She wanted to be the one to do so, and knowing Nat was instead only caused more jealousy to rise to the surface. Her high school bully, the woman who tormented her every move and every step, the one who sent her crying into your arms was now the one holding you; how was that fair? Every aspect of her life was taken from none other than Natasha Romanoff, now she was stealing her one true love as well, and she couldn’t let that be. She couldn’t let you kiss her, hold her, make love to her without you knowing that she could be the replacement, that she had been aching to be yours since she met you.

She didn’t understand the thoughts at the time, but that all changed when she was allowed access to the internet. She was scared to search for the reasoning, afraid her parents might catch sighting and discipline her for her curiosity. Although, the results only brought more shame than her mother or father ever could, she liked you. And not the type most friends felt for one another, the type she was supposed to feel with a man yet felt for a woman.

“I’m sorry..”

“No, no, you don’t need to apologize. Come here.” You ushered her into a hug full of warmth, but fear was hidden beneath her barriers.

When she leaned back unwillingly, the only thing her vision could take notice of was your slightly parted lips that called her name.

“I don’t know why I feel this way, but is it bad to say I like it?” While it brought pain and sadness along with harsh reality, it felt comforting whenever she was with you. She wanted your love, but she wanted more than that. She wanted your heart, your attention, yet she felt selfish for wanting it.

“No, it’s completely normal. You can’t help who you feel, Wanda, and I would never shame you for that.” You brushed her hair behind her ear, sending a warm smile that did little to stop her. She couldn’t help it now.

Her lips had a mind of their own when they met with yours, and while you wanted nothing more than to give in and bathe in her presence, you knew you couldn’t. You leaned back, causing the woman to chase after you.

“Wanda, we can’t.”

“Why not?” She forced out rather loudly. She was the one to pull you close this time, hoping and praying that you’d listen to your heart instead of your mind, she could only hope your heart was beating for her.

“You have a boyfriend-“

“I don’t love him though, I’ve been planning to break up with him but I didn’t know how.” She argued, smiling slightly when she noticed your sight landing on her own chapstick-covered lips.

“What about Nat?”

“You two aren’t together officially, you’re allowed to speak to other people.” You both knew the lie in her words, but you were both so desperately trying to believe them.

“What if you regret it?”

“I never regret anything when I’m with you.” You paused in your tracks, letting her hand rest on your cheek as she checked the door one last time.

“This is wrong-“

“Then why does it feel so right?” You couldn’t stop your mouth from pressing against hers with hunger and desire. Your thumb drew circles against her side as the tension in her muscles lowered, her brain shutting down and her lips moving according to yours.

“I love you, Y/N.” She muttered against your lips before diving back in for more.

“I love you too, Wands.” You followed, letting the two of you sit on the bed as you forced yourself to let go and dwell in the comfort of your best friend.

Later that evening when you left the home, a smile planted on your face as you waved your goodbye’s to the family, sharing a small glance with the redhead before closing the door behind you, you were immediately hit with the guilt of your actions. Nat had been texting you, begging for you to visit her due to how badly she missed you. There were at least ten messages along with three missed calls, her fears only rising as she knew you’d never leave your phone unattended.

“I love you, my beautiful girl.” Read one of her texts, and it pained you to acknowledge the fact that she knew nothing of your shared activities with the other woman.

“I love you more, Nat.” You wrote back once easing her worries, but developing more of your own. You loved both women equally. Even if Natasha had a bad past, you still loved her. And even if Wanda refused to come to terms with herself, you still loved her. How could you ever face them again knowing the truth?

Wanda thought Nat was bad, but she had no idea that the person she just spent the entire afternoon with and most of her years fawning over was even worse.

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two-white-butterflies · 11 months

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the last time | m33 and c55

Description: You wanted to be his priority - is that too much to ask? After moving on from Max, he sees you around the paddock - with someone that treats you so much better.

Pairing: max verstappen/indie-actress!reader, carlos sainz/actress!reader (eventual)

Rating: Teen [angst]

taglist forms

yourname_daisies: happy new year everyone ✨ have a blessed 2021. i found love last year and i hope that you find yours this year. 💕

82 comments 12,349 likes

maxverstappen1: 🦁❤️🎉

thisloveisgood: my fav actress to f1 wag pipeline

bestianlives7: we gotta gatekeep her

esties9nando: This white man stole my wife??

Max reminded you of summer. Sunny. Smiling. Warm. He was your vacation, your rest and your home. "I missed you," you mumbled leaning deeper into his touch. "How was filming?" he inquired, pouring you a glass of wine. "Hectic, but nothing compared to racing." you chuckled - pressing a kiss to his jaw.

This year - everything revolved around him. It revolved around his practices and how he could fight to win the WDC. He slumped on the sofa beside you - reaching for the blanket and allowing it to cover the lower part of your torso.

"What movie are we going to watch?" he reached for the popcorn in the coffee table. Excited for what kind of film you'd choose. Last time it was horror - but you were in a romantic mood. "Something romantic comedy, I kinda wanna sleep tonight." you chuckled, browsing through Netflix's large catalogue of movies.

A small exhale exits his mouth - the air conditioner was making the room colder. A perfect temperature for watching a movie. "I can't wait until we get to watch you in Netflix," he prophecized. "I have a feeling that it's going to be soon." you smiled.

"Yeah, we'll watch your movie next month right? Licorice Pizza, I've already told everyone to watch it." he boasted, showing you that he did his job spreading the good word on the grid. A small giggle escapes your mouth - seeing that dedicated smile on his face.

"I can't find anything - let's just rewatch black mirror." you sighed, pressing on the familiar poster. It wasn't like you were going to watch a single thing tonight.

yourname_daisies: a piece of art ✨

18 comments 3,492 likes

maxverstappen1: ❤️📸

licorizepizza: 💕

y/nsuperfan: when she posts him all the time but he doesn't post her 😭 you can do so much better than this queen.

Carlossainz55: hermosa y hermoso 💪🏽 - yourname_daisies: gracias señor ✨

"Max Verstappen! You are champion of the world!" the man behind you screams into his mic. Even though your boyfriend finished second in the race - he won the WDC. "He did it!" you smiled, embracing your friend who was cheering for the both of you.

Max steps out of his car - jumping with joy as he began to embrace his team. He hugged Christian first, then his best friend then one of his engineers - but he passed you. He didn't even look in your direction. That was the moment you knew. You weren't his priority.

Mijn Pearl (Y/N L/N) Congratulations on the WDC Maxie! I'm so proud of you!!

You stared at the message that you sent out to him. It's been six hours. According to your friends he's currently partying in the redbull yacht - completely oblivious of your existence. "Did he seriously forget about you again? Just because he's champion of the world doesn't mean that he's allowed to forget you." your best friend antagonized - annoyed that you were being treated this way.

"He's probably overwhelmed with winning. I'm sure that he hasn't touched his phone since." you hid your phone inside your pocket. About to cry because of his neglect. He didn't even look at you. It was like - you disappeared into thin air.

"I don't care about him. Let's go party!" your friend screamed, pulling you inside one of the nightclubs. You shrug. It was probably the best thing to do. Anything to take your mind off him.

Carlos sits beside you - a cup of water at hand. "What are you doing here?" you inquire, surprised to see him in this kind of place. "I ditched the redbull party a few hours ago. Me and Lando were looking for you." he informed, taking a shot of his vodka.

A fake smile paints your lips - you completely forgot about how furious you felt about Max. "I decided to hang out with my friends," you lied - not wanting to talk shit about your boyfriend. "Ahh, I see. Do you want more alcohol? Lando will drive us home." he half-yelled due to the techno music blasting the room. "Yeah!" your best friend yelled in return, dancing to the tune with her upper body.

"Shit, are we gonna get that drunk?" you giggled, already seeing the drinks pile in your table. Soon enough Lando and Carlos were sitting beside you. Gossiping about F1 and other team's strategy. "Bottoms up!" Carlos suddenly yelled, prompting for all of you to take shots.

Carlossainz55: Anyone know what's happening? 🤣

798 comments 239,192 likes (posted 3:23 am)

foolishone38: Who is the girl in the second slide? With the black hair? She's so hot 😭 - bechele87: she's max's gf - foolishone38: not anymore...

imolatifosi5: y/n wasn't in the redbull afterparty? how was carlos hanging out with her? and where is max?

Gluteous Maximus (Max Verstappen) Where are you?

Mijn Pearl (Y/N L/N) Hey I'm in Lando's apartment. me n BSF/N so drunk 💀 we had to haul ass to the closest room

Gluteous Maximus (Max Verstappen) u safe? i can pick u up

Mijn Pearl (Y/N L/N) I'm too sleepy. I'll meet u in the hotel room tom. ily congratulations baby 💗

Gluteous Maximus (Max Verstappen) Thank you! ❤️ night

You couldn't stop crying on the drive home.

"I can't believe that I'm feeling this way." you wiped the tears away from your eyes, drunkenly mumbling about how Max made you feel alone. "You poor thing," your best friend pulled your head closer to her chest. "I felt invisible," you sobbed while Carlos rubbed comforting circles on your back. "It's normal to feel that way," he mumbled - unsure on how to comfort you.

"You need to talk to him - communication is the most important part of a relationship." Lando lectured while driving his car around the busy city. "Since when did you become an expert in love?" Carlos slurred, body moving alongside the car. "Since now." Lando popped his lips, halting in front of his apartment building.

"I don't know the entire story but I'm on your side." he removed his seatbelt, opening the door to his car.

yourname_daisies: 'Licorice Pizza' is nominated for three academy awards. I'm so proud of us! 💗✨

89 comments 28,129 likes

maxverstappen1: congratulations ❤️ - yourname_daisies: thank you max

LandoNorris: Don't forget us when ur rich n famous

You didn't tell him about the troubles that you were feeling in the relationship. You figured that time would heal everything, and his fame would settle down - but it never did. The fame never got to his head - but the neglect got to yours.

"Max, can we get an autograph?" his fans followed the both of you around. At first, he entertained them - but as more of them draw closer you both attempted to run away. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, attempting to navigate a crowded street.

One of the paparazzis bumped your shoulder. And the worst thing happened. He dropped your hand - and you swore that this would be the last time. The last time you dealt with this.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND GIRLFRIEND CONFIRM BREAKUP.

(TWO YEARS LATER)

Carlossainz55: We look good together, no? ✨

0 comments 349,239 likes

comments have been restricted.

Max didn't think that he'd ever see you again.

He's read articles about your new life. How you won an Oscar a year after breaking up with him. How your dating one of his friends.

He sees you from across the paddock - wearing a color that he'd never thought he'd see you wear. Red. Ferrari red. With Carlos Sainz trailing behind you loyally.

He sees you walking towards him, and he contemplates on whether or not he should say 'hi'. He sees you walking towards him - until you're already past him. Bumping shoulders but never looking back.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #f1 fics #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic

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onehundredandeleventropicalfish · 1 year

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so i keep referencing the What Broke Delirium essay i plan to write but never actually writing it, so let's dig into that one!

because. sandman does not spoonfeed information. neil gaiman even said this in regards to the tv show, most shows are written these days under the assumption that audiences aren't really paying attention and need things spelled out for them - but sandman is not one of those shows. you gotta notice everything to get the full story

which honestly i love in many ways because it's part of why i'm never gonna run out of sandman essays to write - every time i reread the comics or rewatch the show i catch something new

and this is one of the first hidden bits of info i caught - remember this spread from overture?

it's a fucking gorgeous page and one of my favourite in the entire sandman run, both for the pretty art and the content itself (i love delirium SO much)

but let's just zoom in on the center of those flowers for a sec

because there's tiny tiny text written inside them

(for anyone who can't parse that, the first says "delight was sad", the second says "delight went mad")

now i've mentioned in many of my posts before that the endless all struggle to experience their own aspect, they are that thing, it exists for the most part out of their reach, and that causes problems for all of them

but i usually leave delirium out of these explanations

and that's because, for whatever reason, delirium is the opposite. and delight was too. i don't know what it is that makes her different, but while her older siblings all seem to be barred from their own domain by nature (or have to go to great lengths to experience it), del is too much of it. she's utterly absorbed by it. and while i think she's learned over the centuries how to be a bit more flexible (she understands the coins have two sides thing better than any of them, and can be lucid when she needs to), she didn't start out that way

we don't know what it is exactly that broke her. but we know why.

she had spent all of her life as the personification of happiness and joy, and someone who embodied those emotions. she appeared most as a little kid as delight, because kids definitely find it a lot easier to stay in that perpetually excited, happy mindset

but nothing stays that way forever. and this is where she is like her siblings, and why she's so familiar with the coin metaphor - when you're missing a fundamental piece of being human (either by being barred from your aspect or by being absorbed by it), that's not sustainable. it will tear you apart. dream refuses to accept that this is the case, and that breaks him. desire is equally stubborn about it, and they've outright admitted (in narration) that they're hanging on by a fucking thread

but death figured it out, when she realised she couldn't fulfill her function properly without learning what it was like to live. destruction figured it out when he ran away to go create. and delirium figured it out the hard way, because as soon as the world got a little too big for her singular aspect to make sense, it shattered

and it shattered slowly

there may have been some form of inciting incident, but she didn't become delirium overnight. i think a lot about her describing it as "growing up, or at least growing older", because that's both a very mature way to look at it and also an extremely tragic way to look at it, the idea that she knows too much, is never going to see the world the same way again, and that means delight is never coming back

(and that realisation is when she stopped presenting as a child and started presenting as a teenager)

and i think for a while, early days of being delirium, not delight, she didn't know what to do with that. delight broke into scattered pieces and the more fell away the harder it became to connect them

but she's also the only one of her siblings who's picked herself up from that. and it's why she's the wisest of them. because from there she learned

okay, so her innocence is gone. so delight isn't coming back. but there's still parts of her around, if delirium ever needs them. and the more she observes about the world, the more she experiences, the more different pieces she gets to add to the puzzle. they don't fit together, but that's del's real strength - they're not supposed to. she could have tried to reassemble herself piece by piece, like gluing together a broken statue, but why would she do that? then she'd be exactly as breakable as before, if not more so

instead she's more of a floating amalgamation of pieces, or rather, she's the ties between them. and because there's no set puzzle, she can put those pieces together in any order. she's no longer susceptible to the same problems as her siblings, because she's not missing anything anymore. she didn't lose parts of herself when becoming delirium, she gained some

and yes, no one is entirely without flaw - her downside is she's still susceptible to strong emotion, and when that overwhelms her mind she stops being any kind of person, we just see that floating amalgamation, until she can calm down. but that's the worst of it. her siblings may see her as broken, but she's more whole than she ever was as delight. and she's never going to break again

#hi have i mentioned i love her i love her #sandman comic spoilers #delirium of the endless #mine #meta #the sandman

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darkdevasofdestruction · 10 months

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Hello, could I request a Heimdall x reader, like soulmates, as if the bond between them was pain, as if one of them was hurt the other would feel it and only the touch of the soulmate would make the pain stop? or something about the first kisses between them, I'm really pleased with anything about this man

Hmmm, let me see where I can go with this~

---

✬Ever since he was created, Heimdall has been a non-believer in the silly idea of a romantic relationship - The single notion that there may actually be someone out there, who could possibly be up to his level, or anywhere close to it.

✬He hadn't cared, nor did he even attempt to try to find out his soulmate - He didn't believe one existed to begin with - A counterpart of his own, someone whose personality and heart could mirror his own, complete him wholly.

✬He was already perfect to begin with, he needn't someone to complete him - He was complete by himself!

✬He couldn't even imagine allowing some filthy mongrels who consider themselves 'Gods' touching him, let alone stay in their disgusting proximity. A few hours once in a blue moon was enough for him to satisfy his carnal needs. No one was worthy of him.

✬Heimdall is a pure Aesir God, the Foresight haver, the Holder of Gjallarhorn, the All-Father's most trusted person, the Protector of the Asgard. What more could he need in life?

✬For some odd reason, he felt a peculiar pang of pain in his chest, where his heart area could be, though there was no particular reason for it - It happened out of nowhere, even when he was relaxing with a book by the fireplace.

✬Not only that, but on even fewer occasions, his body would feel uncharacteristic aches - He wasn't some clumsy idiot, he didn't get himself hurt - Hell, he never got touched without his consent before, let alone get his flesh harmed - So what was this all about?!

✬His only saving grace was the night, when he would allow himself to rest and enter a deep sleep. Sometimes, he would enter the dream world, the only place where his heart, soul and mind could feel at ease and genuinely happy.

✬Every time, he was teleported in a forest clearing, in a beautiful flower clearing, next to a rapid river breaking through the stones. A warm ray of Sun peeked through the large crowns of the tall trees, caressing his pale face, making his golden hair shimmer ethereally.

✬He felt happy. He felt content. He smiled.

✬Every time, without fail, a gorgeous white deer, mystical and glowing silver, with the most kind eyes that looked more human than animal would approach him - Afraid, but curious. It was a repeating cycle every time, yet without fail, the deer would trust him, nuzzle her wet nose into his palm, and even lick his face.

✬Her eyes... Kind, yet sad, nostalgic, melancholic... Lonely...

✬An animal hiding a pool of humanly emotions, as if she wished to be found already.

✬Or maybe he was going mad.

✬Heimdall didn't feel anger, nor disgust for anyone, he didn't scowl or frown, nor did he sneer or scoff at the idiocy surrounding him. Instead, he felt content and at peace, with his heart bursting and glowing with joy and love every time this deer would rest her head on his lap.

✬Could this deer be his Fylgja? His guardian spirit? The embodiment of his soulmate's soul and spirit, watching over him, completing him, just as those silly stories tell? Was there someone out there, that could heal him, his mind and heart? Could there be someone out there having similar dreams as him, with a white, mystical stag watching over them, protecting them, caring for them, the same as this doe is healing him? Could there be someone out there, with his soul connected to them?

✬He doubted that.

✬Still, he relished in the escapism that was created as a gift for him.

✬Surely, the universe knew how much stress and pressure he was under, especially having to keep around all those fools who consider themselves Gods. Thank the All-Father he was tasked with guarding the wall, and his home was far, far away from the village, otherwise he doubts he'd be able to keep himself in check and not murder everyone.

✬They say that your soulmate appears out of nowhere, when you least expect it. It was then that Heimdall felt sheer terror in his heart, for the first time in his long life - The time when he witnessed Y/N getting slammed into the tavern wall by a clumsy, drunk Thor, and he felt his spine ablaze with pain.

✬ He felt her pain. That was impossible. That couldn't be.

✬But that wasn't the only thing terrifying Heimdall.

✬Her eyes held the same innocence and loneliness as his spirit deer.

✬Since then, not only did he avoid Y/N like the plague, but he actively kept away from all the Gods, except the All-Father. It was the perfect excuse - He just hated everyone.

✬But no matter how much you try to run away from fate, it always finds a way of catching up to you.

✬A knock on his door disturbed him, and he felt compelled to slam his book to the ground, angered that someone dared disrupt him from his leisure time. He swung the door open and war ready to yell at the idiot barging in at such a late hour at the night.

✬But as soon as his glowing purple eyes met those beautiful doe eyes of hers, Heimdall's body froze, and the yell got stuck in his throat.

✬"Forgive the intrusion at such a horridly late hour of the name, Heimdall. I just finished work." without realising, his heart was beating so fast, pouding in his chest. "I... thought you've been looking rather upset lately. I... I don't know what bothered you, but... I thought I would bake you a few snacks." she rose the basket to eye-level, and Heimdall could feel the smell of delicious pastries and freshly baked bread. When he didn't respond, or even sketch a single reaction, Y/N smiled sweetly, causing the Aesir's snow-pale cheeks to flush up a little. "Are you feeling quite alright? You seem feverish." she tried to place her hand on his cheek, feel his temperature up, but Heimdall overreacted and yelped, roughly grabbing at her wrist before she could touch his skin. He feared that, should her touch be magical, then the truth would be revealed and affirmed. Soulmates existed, and even he had one. "Oh, forgive me for overstepping my boundaries. I was just worried for you."

✬Heimdall looked away with a scoff, only for his face to redden up even more. Though he despised the idea of love and being vulnerable, his hand moved on his own, allowing the Goddess to feel his skin.

✬At once, he shuddered involuntarily, and a warm, tingling sensation took over him. He loved it, it felt so good, it was unreal.

✬After a few seconds spent like that, Heimdall dared shift his gaze at her. Y/N was smiling. "You knew, didn't you?" he mumbled under his breath. Y/N nodded gently. "I have known since we were children." the man's eyes widened in shock. "There aren't all that many people in Asgard with eyes as beautiful as yours." she giggled sweetly. "If you knew it was me, why didn't you come sooner?" he asked, pulling her inside his hut, protecting her from the cold outside. "You never did look at me." her comment stung his heart. "Or, at anyone else, for the matter." she sat on the couch by the fireplace. "Besides, I did tell you, didn't I? Through your dreams, I was there. I waited for you, every night, in that clearing. I could feel the pain of your soul, and I was there, waiting to take it all away from you. To heal you and erase all of you worries." it wasn't just her touch, but that warm smile on her face that made the man feel ablaze with love. "So the deer was you, not my Fylgja." he muttered, more as an affirmation, than a question. "I could see you, the same as you saw me. It was my soul that you saw, not my body. It was my soul healing you, the same as your soul protected me from the animals trying to harm me." Heimdall looked up at her, realising their dreams were slightly different. He saw how scared she was at first, as a young child, being surrounded by fiersome bears, wolves and panthers, only for this strong, large white stag to prance over and protect her from harm, throwing all the predators away with his huge antlers. "Soulmates complete each other." Heimdall found himself saying, realising that what Y/N healed, he protected. That god-awful statement was true. They completed each other perfectly. He may be whole as a singular person, but it felt even better, without his soul honeyed by another. "Ah, to hell with this." emboldened by Y/N's mere presence, Heimdall shot up from his couch and dragged her up, gently cupping her face and pulling her into a sweet, gentle kiss.

✬It felt as though the whole universe disappeared completely, and it was only them present. Not in two physical bodies, but two souls connected, intertwined for eternity.

✬A sensation of deep love and warm, like honeyed milk at night, before falling into a deep sleep. The gentle caress of nature and the healing touch of a lover.

✬That which angered him the most through its absence, became Heimdall's most cherished possession.

✬ His soulmate's eternal love.

#gow #gow x reader #gow imagine #gow ragnarok #gow heimdall #heimdall #heimdall x reader #heimdall imagine #god of war #god of war ragnarok #god of war heimdall #god of war x reader #god of war imagine

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mswyrr · 6 months

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I love the comparisons and contrasts between Everlark and Snowbaird (edit: I wrote a meta here discussing some of what I see there and Rachel has drawn the comparison too) because there is no "safe" purely "wholesome" love. It doesn't exist.

I genuinely hate that fandom thinks there's such a thing as a pure ship. Or that we can or should take art and cut it into neat little pieces, use stories to "teach girls" (where girls are presumed to be the most ignorant and worthless of creatures, incapable of the full experience of what it means to be human, but also the only ones responsible for anything bad that happens, creatures so responsible that all tragedies that befall them are their own fault, their deepest shame) how to make love safe. It's a lie. Loving is about people, and people are never pure. Everything good we give each other is hard won with courage in the face of fear.

It is inherently dangerous because humans are. And if you're lucky, you give yourself to someone who meets that trust and courage with their own. And if you're not lucky, it hurts. And there's no way to control it. There's no way to be smart enough or pure enough or notice the right "red flags" (irl abusers are good at hiding and perfectly lovely people can become ill or addicted or just *change* on you). You can be lucky for a time and someone can still change.

Because you cannot control someone else, just love them.

And--here is the great part--it was that very lack of control that drove Coriolanus to throw love away! He was so afraid of what an inherently terrifying thing it is, how it is giving yourself away without guarantees, that he brought that fear down on them. He became the traitor he was so terrified that Lucy Gray might be. He destroyed something infinitely precious because he couldn't live with what a sublime wonder and terror it is to give yourself away with open hands. Love is never pure. It is so much better than that. It is...

I write all kinds of ships and like all kinds of love stories and see no contradiction because even the happiest ones are that too. I am endlessly frustrated by the way Gothic romance and tragic romance and other romances that explore the terror and darker side of that are pathologized because it makes the more joyful, happy endings dishonest. Love is risk, touching the sublime, allowing yourself to be remade.

Every joy we find in life--every single one, not just in romance, but anywhere--is like making love in the lap of death. In the midst of life we are in death; in the midst of death we are in life. The only thing worse than the fear of giving yourself away (in all the ways we can seek intimacy, not only romance) is the truest death, the death of never opening yourself up to begin with, never letting yourself be changed and moved and remade by another. And if we need an object lesson in that, here we've got Coriolanus Snow!

He's not an object lesson in "bad boyfriends." Lucy Gray made good choices from her pov! (I'm writing a separate meta on this). Nothing that happened was her fault! She is not an object lesson, she's a brave, loving girl who experienced a tragedy. She was betrayed. She's a character of the kind of folk ballads Collins was drawing on, which are actually more honest about people and more compassionate toward women who experience tragedy and loss than a rigidly US-centric, individualist, inherently victim blaming, just world fallacy view of control and "teaching girls good lessons." You can drain all the pleasure and joy out of life in the effort to control things and keep someone from being able to hurt you and still not really be safe, just be dead inside - like Coriolanus did.

The only way to truly possess someone is to destroy them and then you don't actually possess them at all! They're gone. The person you wanted to keep you've driven away. And the only way to truly be safe and in control is to kill your own heart. So what are you even protecting?

There is no shame in being Lucy Gray. The shame is in letting fear and the need for control own us like Coriolanus.

As someone who feels torn often in fandom because I ship both love stories that get categorized as "wholesome" and "problematic," the fact that Collins wrote both one of my favorite ships ever that gets categorized (and, I think, often massively simplified) into "wholesome" AND another "problematic" one that IMO is a gorgeous object lesson in why the whole idea of this binary is bullshit--and why love stories can and should explore the terror of being alive and living as well as the joy and genres like Gothic and tragedy are a beautiful part of the tapestry of narratives exploring love and living as a human in fiction--and we should very much NOT be Coriolanus?

I love her. I want to kiss her hand.

#suzanne collins #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #snowbaird #thg meta #my meta

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sequinsmile-x · 3 months

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300 - Part 2 - Emily & Aaron

Emily, Aaron and their love as observed by their friends.

AKA - the five times the team see them love each other, and the one time they don't even try to hide it.

My 300th Hotchniss fic

Part 2/2

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so much for the love on Part 1 - it genuinely means the world to me. I would write you all 1000 Hotchniss fics (and lets be real i'm 1/3 of the way there).

As ever your support means the world to me, and I hope you like this part 2 of our idiots just being hopelessly, completely in love with each other.

-x-

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron & Emily

She wakes up slowly, her senses kicking in one by one as she blearily blinks and groans, pressing her face into Aaron’s chest as she snuggles deeper into his embrace. He chuckles against her hairline and runs his hand up and down her back, his palm sneaking under her t-shirt, his t-shirt, to press his skin against hers.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice gravelly, thick with sleep. She loved his voice in the morning, loved that it was somehow deeper than normal, that it was something just for her. She hums and tilts her head to look up at him, her eyes meeting his through heavy eyelids as she places her hand on his cheek and drags him in for a kiss.

“Morning,” she mutters against his lips, kissing him again, “What time is it?”

He looks at his watch and fights a yawn as he places his hand on her back again, “Almost 8 am.”

She groans and presses her face into his neck, untangling her leg from between his to hook it over his hip so she can get closer, “Before you, I used to sleep in,” she grumbles, kissing his jaw, “I just had to fall in love with a morning person.”

He suppresses a laugh, well aware from experience that even in a half-asleep state she’d be mad at him if she thought he was making fun of her, “It’s worth it though, right?”

She hums and nods against him, tilting her head back to look at him. She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling to herself when it flops back into position, “Totally worth it.”

They’d been together for just over a year and she struggled to remember how it felt to live without love like this. It was all-encompassing, the kind of thing she’d only ever read about before him, what she’d once believed only existed in romance novels she’d indulge in when on vacation. He and Jack were everything. Her Hotchner boys filling gaps in her chest she hadn’t known existed, all three of them helping each other heal from the things they had been through. She loved them so much that it scared her at times, her happiness so reliant on them that she worried about them constantly, anything as small as a scratch on either of them enough to make her panic.

It was a price worth paying, she thought. The love, joy and happiness far outweighing the pain that inevitably came with loving someone.

“Good to know,” he replies wryly, cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

She smiles softly at him, resting her head on his shoulder as she yawns. He starts to run his hand up and down her back again and she knows if he carries on she’ll fall asleep, “Can we just stay here all day? For someone who has moved as often as I have, I’m exhausted.”

He’d asked her to move in with him months ago, not too long after they told the team about them, but after a long discussion, they’d decided to find somewhere new. To buy a house for them and Jack and whoever may come along in the future. To create a home that neither of them had been a part of in a long time, or in her case - ever. It had taken a long time to find somewhere that felt perfect for them, somewhere that they could see themselves spending the rest of their lives.

They’d only just moved in a few weeks ago, the last of the boxes from their old places now in the house. They were slowly unpacking. Their bedroom and Jack’s were sorted, as were the kitchen and the living room, but the dining table still hadn’t been delivered, the home office was just full of boxes. She knew they had to finish unpacking, but she wanted to leave it for a day and spend some time relaxing with her boyfriend.

He looks down at her, and he blows out a slow breath, making sure to school his features before she looks at him, “Actually, sweetheart, I have to go into the office for a little bit this afternoon.”

She scoffs and shifts to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh, why?”

He pushes some of her hair from her forehead, “Strauss.”

She rolls her eyes and rests her head back on his shoulder, “Well what am I supposed to do?” She asks, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “You’ll be at work, Jack is with Jess. I’ll be here all by myself.”

She used to treasure her alone time, used to pride herself on the fact she was good at being alone, but she couldn’t be anymore. Even though they’d only just officially moved in together she couldn’t remember the last time she spent a night apart from him. She didn’t like being alone anymore, it was too quiet when Aaron wasn’t next to her, tapping his fingers on her thigh as he read a case file, or when she couldn’t hear Jack’s cartoons from the next room when she was in the kitchen.

He smiles, pressing his thumb to the slight pout of her lower lip, “Why don’t you call JJ? See if she’s free.”

She hums and nods, “Yeah, I’ll do that. Will is working today so she’ll be free,” she smiles, kissing his thumb, “I can get in some Henry cuddles,” she kisses his thumb again, “You’ll come home as soon as you can though?”

He nods and leans in to kiss her, his smile pressed against her lips, “I’ll always come straight home to you.” ___

Aaron

He feels the nerves bubbling in his chest as soon as he steps into the bullpen.

He gives himself a moment to himself, knowing it will be the last one he has all day, before he pushes open the glass door and smiles as his friends look up.

“I’d about time you showed up,” Dave grumbles, raising his eyebrow at him as he places a box of candles down on Emily’s desk, “You’re the one proposing and you’re the last one here.”

Aaron can’t help but smile, the ring box in his pocket suddenly seeming slightly heavier as he thinks about it. He’d had this planned for weeks, every detail something he’d agonised over, second guessing himself over whether he’d made the right decision in how he was going to ask Emily to marry him. They’d discussed marriage, so she knew it was coming at some point, but he still wanted to surprise her. It’s why he’d got the team involved, his uncharacteristic request for help with something personal had piqued their interest immediately. Penelope had been close to giddy, so excited he’d had to ask her to calm down so Emily didn’t hear her.

“We were running a little late this morning,” he says, “JJ said she’d keep Emily busy for as long as we needed her to.”

“How come JJ gets to go shopping as part of this,” Derek says, raising his eyebrow as he tilts his head towards the box of rose petals he had on his desk, “And I’m on rose petal duty?”

Dave rolls his eyes, “Because it wouldn’t be believable if you asked her to go to the mall with you, Morgan.”

Derek sticks his tongue out at him and Penelope scoffs, a clipboard in her hand with a to-do list she had printed out herself, “We don’t have time for you to act like children,” she says, shaking her head, “Rossi - candles, Derek - rose petals.”

“What am I here for?” Spencer asks, putting his hand up, his lips pressed together, his amusement slowly fading as Penelope glares at him.

“To help where it’s needed, genius,” she replies, looking back and forth between her list and the rest of them, “Well come on. We don’t have forever and I won’t let you ruin this for me.”

Aaron clears his throat and raises his eyebrow at her, “Garcia, I think you mean you won’t let them ruin this for me and Emily?”

She waves at him dismissively, “That too,” she says, “Now you just need to go to your office and set it up.”

He suppresses a smile and nods, catching Dave’s eye as he salutes her, “Yes ma’am.”

He walks up to his office, the din of the team's conversation fading away as he closes the door behind him, taking a breath to centre himself as soon as he is alone.

This was the place where he’d met Emily, where their paths had crossed and their lives had started to intertwine in a way he never could have anticipated. He’d been attracted to her immediately, her beauty undeniable even then. He never could have known that he’d one day know her as he did, that he’d know she had a patch of freckles on her shoulder that bloomed every summer, or that her skin always smelt faintly of vanilla. That her embrace was one of the few places he’d one day find safety. Home a place he found somewhere between her collarbone and her shoulder.

He wished he could have been nicer to her when they first met, that he could go back and tell himself he was talking to the woman who would end up being the love of his life, but he knew everything happened as it should have. That they could never trust each other as much as they did now without that initial distrust and what it had led them to, a flight to Milwaukee just the two of them forging a friendship that would one day turn into so much more.

She always said that he liked to rewrite their history, that he liked to underplay just how little he trusted her at first, but it was true. He’d been attracted to her the moment they met. Her smile and firm handshake, the way her eyes sparkled in a way he now knew covered the trauma she’d just been through in a job that wasn’t on her official record, had drawn him in. Like a moth to a flame as his marriage crumbled around him, the very thought of Emily enough to make him angry at himself. Pouring gasoline on the flame of guilt that climbed up his throat during every disagreement with Haley, something that had only got worse as time went on.

When he met Emily he never could have known how important she’d come to be to him, how integral to his and his sons’ lives she’d become, and now he couldn’t imagine life without her. She’d helped put him back together, something she seemingly never tired of, picking up the pieces again and again when old demons came out of the shadows. He did the same for her, being the strength she needed when it all seemed too much. It was something he felt privileged to do, to be the person she let past the barriers she had built around herself long before they had ever met.

He was excited to spend the rest of his life with her, to make the house they’d just moved into a home. To raise Jack and hopefully a couple more kids with her. To kiss her every morning, to let her know that she was loved every day. Even though they’d talked about marriage, and he knew it was something they both wanted, he could still feel nerves rolling through his gut. Excitement at the prospect of forever with her fizzing under his skin.

He smiles to himself as he approaches his desk and he pulls the ring box out of his pocket and places it down, his fingers lingering on the velvet.

This is where he met her, and it was where he’d ask her to spend the rest of her life with him.

___

Emily

“Aunt Emily!”

She turns at the sound of Henry’s voice and she smiles, opening her arms and crouching down as the 5-year-old races towards her, leaving JJ behind. She scoops him up into her arms and rests him on her hip, pressing a kiss to his head as he wraps his arms around her neck.

“Hi buddy,” she says, kissing his head again and chuckling as JJ finally makes it to their side, “You already wearing Mommy out?”

“He sure is,” JJ says, placing her hand on Henry’s head for a moment, ruffling his hair, “You know not to run away from Mommy.”

He shrugs and leans in further to Emily, “But I saw Aunt Emmy.”

Emily and JJ exchange a quick smile and she tilts her head to look at the little boy in her arms, “I would have waited, honey. No need to run,” she says, adjusting her hold on him slightly as she looks back at her friend, “So, what stores did you need to go to?”

Something close to panic flashes through JJ’s eyes only for a second, her smile tight as she shrugs, “Oh, nowhere in particular,” she says, “Did you need to go somewhere?”

Emily narrows her eyes slightly, and almost reminds her friend that she was the one who said she needed to go to the mall, and that she was only tagging along because she was home alone, but she lets it slide. She clears her throat and shrugs, turning her attention to Henry, bouncing him in her embrace.

“Well, I promised Jack some new Legos, so do you want to help me pick some out?”

Henry’s face lights up and he nods enthusiastically, “Legos!”

JJ laughs and starts leading the way, “The Lego store it is.”

Henry convinces her that Jack needs two new Lego sets and she can’t help but shake her head at herself as she pays. She was a pushover when it came to Henry and Jack, and she knew she would be for her future children too. It was something Aaron always gently made fun of her for, a loving smile on his face as he said he would have to be the disciplinarian at work and at home, as if he wasn’t also wrapped around Jack’s finger. It would always warm her from the inside out when she thought about their future, the future she would have once thought was nothing but a fantasy bright and real right in front of her.

When she was in Paris, dead to almost everyone, a life like this had seemed impossible to consider. A fantasy she’d run through every night to chase her nightmares away as she lay in bed and tried to sleep. She already knew she loved Aaron by that point, feelings she could no longer deny bursting free from where she’d buried them deep in her chest at the thought of never seeing him again. Even when she came home she had thought it would never happen, that she was simply too damaged to be with him. He’d been hurt so much already and she didn’t want to add to that, didn’t want her scars to stick to his, pulling them into each other in a way that was unhealthy.

The first time they kissed it was like the world had restarted, even though she wasn’t aware it had stopped. Everything shifted in a moment, all the things she had once believed she would never get to experience suddenly within reach. They made each other better, loved every single thing about each other, especially the broken parts, and every day she woke up hoping to make him feel even half as loved as he made her feel. It was a privilege to be loved by him, to love him back, and she would happily go through everything all over again just to make it right to this point.

“Do you want to go and get something to eat?” JJ asks after they’ve been wandering around for a while, Henry’s hand firmly in Emily’s and she feels her stomach roll at the thought and she shakes her head.

“I’m okay,” she replies, turning her nose up at the mere idea of the smell of the food court, “You two can go get something to eat if you want,” she says, checking her watch, “Aaron will probably be on the way home soon anyway, so I could just head-”

“No,” JJ says, cutting over her as she checks her own watch, “It was just an idea I’m not hungry,” she adds before blowing out a breath, “Why don’t we just do a little more shopping? Surely you need some things for the house?”

Emily narrows her eyes at her friend but nods, “Okay, sure. We still need some things for the dining room.”

“Perfect,” JJ says, smiling as she nods in the direction of the home goods store, “Let's go.”

She looks down at Henry as they follow JJ, “Your Mommy is in a weird mood today, honey.”

Later, when she looked back on it she’d realise just how many signs she missed, JJ’s slightly odd behaviour suddenly making sense, but she willingly follows her friend around the mall.

And she doesn’t question when JJ suggests they drop by the office, she simply nods and agrees, excited at the prospect of seeing Aaron.

___

Aaron & Emily

She can tell something is different the moment she gets into the office. The usual hustle and bustle that she’d feel here, even on a weekend, is missing. It feels almost peaceful, calm in a way that makes her curious.

She stops on the spot the moment the bullpen is in view. There are no lights on, but there are candles everywhere, leading from the glass doors, past her desk and up the stairs, to Aaron’s office a path laid with rose petals that makes her breath catch in her chest. She knows what is happening, her stomach flipping as she blows out a shaky breath, tears already pressing at the back of her eyes. She looks up at Aaron’s office, the open door a calling card she can’t ignore, and she’s moving before she can think about it, as if her body was pulled towards him.

She places her hand over her mouth as she steps into his office, a sob catching on every rib as she tries to force it down. There were more candles, more rose petals, and most importantly - him. He was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a suit he hadn’t been wearing when he left home earlier that afternoon, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, his voice shaking a little. He wasn’t nervous anymore, not now he was looking at her, but he was overwhelmed, almost bowled over by his love for her.

“Hi,” she gasps, her hand landing on her chest as she looks around, shaking her head slightly, “Now I see why JJ told me to go ahead when we got here.”

He chuckles and nods, “The others are all here too,” he says, his smile widening when her mouth falls open slightly, “They are in the conference room waiting. I think Dave locked them in so Penelope wouldn’t come rushing out here.”

She chuckles but it’s wet, catching on to the built-up emotion in her chest, “Well,” she says, wiping a tear from her lashline as it falls, “We better not keep them waiting.”

He steps towards her and kneels on the ground, his hand reaching out for hers. She sucks in a breath, desperate to stop herself from crying, but she knows it’s useless, that she was a lost cause the moment she stepped into his office.

“Emily, sweetheart,” he says, clearing his throat to steady his voice, increasing his grip on her hand, “This is the place that we met. And, no matter how much I wish I could say I was polite to you that day,” he says, and both of them chuckle, “I wouldn’t change anything. Because otherwise we might not be here, and that seems like an impossible thought. You’ve changed me for the better, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, happier than I thought I deserved.”

She shushes him, shaking her head at the self-depreciation, “You deserve everything.”

He kisses her knuckles before he carries on, pressing his love directly onto her skin, “I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me,” he says, briefly letting go of her hand to pull the ring box out of his pocket. She gasps as he opens it, the ring exactly what she would have chosen for herself, a pear-shaped diamond set back into the band, something she could wear at work without worrying about it catching on something, “Emily, will you marry me?”

She’s nodding before he’s even finished asking the question, her answer coming out as a sob, “Yes. Of course, I will.”

He slips the ring onto her finger and she doesn’t give him the chance to even try to stand up, already kneeling down in front of him as she presses a fierce kiss to his lips, her arms tight around the back of his neck. She pulls back from the kiss and hugs him tightly, an embrace he returns with just as much love, and she buries her face in his neck.

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, her words muffled against his skin. He turns his head to kiss her, his lips catching her ear and he runs his hand up and down her back.

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again, “I love you so much.”

She chokes on a sob as she pulls back, taking a moment to look at her hand, to get used to the weight of the ring, the feel of the metal against her skin, and then she looks around the room, shaking her head at him, “You did all of this for me?”

He cups her cheek and makes her look at him, his smile soft and his eyes shining as they meet hers, “I’d do anything for you,” he replies, leaning forward and stamping his lips against hers, “It wasn’t too much was it?”

She shakes her head and runs her fingers through his hair, “It was perfect,” she says, scratching at his scalp, “So perfect,” she kisses him, resting her forehead against his as she pulls away, “Thank you for asking me.”

He smiles and rubs his nose against hers, taking a moment to breathe her in, to enjoy this moment of the two of them alone, kneeling on the floor of his office, before they went to see their friends a few rooms down the hall to celebrate.

“Thank you for saying yes.”

She hums and pulls back to look at him, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, “There was never any other answer.”

They stay kneeling like that for a while, huddled together on the floor as they exchange kisses and ‘I love yous’, lost in their own world. Eventually, he pulls back from her, standing up and purposely ignoring the mischievous tint to her smile when his knees pop. He offers her a hand and helps her up.

“As much as I would love to stay in here all night,” he says, wrapping his arm around her waist, “I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough. Penelope’s excitement is probably outshining Jack’s.”

“Jack is here?” She asks excitedly, looking forward to seeing the little boy.

Aaron nods and places his hand on the small of her back, a space that seemed to have been carved out perfectly to fit his palm, “Who do you think helped me pick out the ring?”

She presses her lips together in a failed attempt to stop herself from smiling, her cheeks aching with happiness as she shakes her head at him, “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

He shrugs playfully, “It’s come up,” he stamps a kiss against her lips and links his hand through hers, ready to lead her towards the conference room, “Come on, Dave bought the best champagne money can buy.”

She bites her lip and stays still, tugging on his arm as he tries to walk away. Nervous excitement bubbles in her chest, and whilst this hadn’t been the way she’d planned to tell him, she knew it was the perfect way.

“I can’t have any champagne,” she says coyly, her eyes fixed on his as he furrows his brow, “Not for the next several months.”

His eyes go wide as it clicks into place, and the laugh that escapes him is full of wonder and joy. He scoops her up into his arms, holding her so tightly her feet leave the ground.

When the rest of the team hears the joyful laughter from a few rooms down the hall, they pop the champagne, all pleased with their involvement in what they assume their friends are celebrating.

-x-

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ryverbind · 3 months

Text

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Beg For It [21]

TW: smut :P

_______________

dacnorthxx started following you.

sallysusedtoiletpaper: VI WHO IS THIS WHO IS NORTH WHY IS THIS INTERACTION GIVING ME LIFE??? t0ddles2: @sallysusedtoiletpaper frontman of dark autumn complex sallysusedtoiletpaper: @t0ddles2 oh omg ok... I've never heard of them are they any good?? ashypoops: I haven't heard of them either. What genre? More importantly DOES VI HAVE HER VERY FIRST SHIP toodswithoutthed: @ashypoops I WAS ABOUT TO ASK BC THE CHEMISTRY!?!? they're obsessed w each other... I went stalk his profile. Ship name options: northlence, violeth... t0ddles2: they're rock/metal. even if u don't like the genre, they're worth a listen sallysusedtoiletpaper: WORD I just followed him and their band account >:3 also @toodswithoutthed I'm personally a fan of violeth. I'm linking this shit in the faces fan discord ashypoops: THERE'S A FAN DISCORD??? can u send me an invite pooks🥺 sallysusedtoiletpaper: @ashypoops ofc😘 sallysusedtoiletpaper: OMFG SOMEONE BEAT ME TO THE CHAT EVERYONE KNOWS NOOOOOO

———

Yea, so I lost my job. Big shocker.

Once my boss found out that I dipped mid-shift, the text was typed out and sent by the evening.

In any other situation, I'd be fucked. Indefinitely. Completely broke and flailing to get a new job. In fact, that was my first thought. As soon as I got the text, I clicked onto my bank account to check how much I'd have to live off of until I found a new job--

--only to find out that I had over $2,000 just sitting around, which was such a nice surprise. I don't think I've ever had so much money to my name before in my entire life. And all the transactions were straight from all my streaming apps. All within the past two weeks since being back in LA.

To say the least, losing my job couldn't have happened at a better time. Now, I can put my focus into something I actually enjoy doing.

But first, a trip to Nockfell, which is proving to be more chaotic by the second.

"Todd, dude, there's a chemistry to this thing, okay? It's a ritual," Larry says, all seriousness and business face as he stares back into Todd's uninterested gaze. "I can't fly without it."

Todd blinks, a flash of frustrated disappointment crossing over his features. "You're not taking an edible before the flight, Lartholomew."

Ash had a ticket ready for me before she even got to LA yesterday. Her entire mastermind plan was to abduct me whether I liked it or not-- not that I would've said no to begin with. And besides, having her at the apartment to help me pack last minute made pre-flight stress non-existent.

Travis is camping out at my apartment. He was more than happy to kick me out of my own house, claiming that my bed is comfiest anyway. Regardless, he said he had no desire to return to Nockfell anyway. And dad was just excited for me to go visit considering how much I've complained about missing the little town over all these years.

Sal and I haven't spoken since his last commanding text to me. Right before his very sudden face reveal. He's caught in an almost petrifying silence-- has been since he put his prosthetic back on. I, on the other hand, very much resemble a little puppy whimpering and begging at his feet. Metaphorically, of course. I wouldn't dare to physically exploit my internal thoughts.

The really sickening truth is that I'm so desperate to see his face again that I'd trip him down a flight of stairs just to recreate yesterday's scene.

Just kidding. I don't mean that. I definitely don't.

"All our seats are kind of screwed up, so I have no idea where you're sitting, sugar." Ash pokes my cheek, her chin in her palm and elbow propped on the armrest of her seat. "I bought them kind of last minute so I took whatever they had available."

A little smile tips my lips as I turn my attention away from the grumpy smurf and focus on my stunning best friend. Her viridian irises glow with renewed joy and energy like our plans check off so many bullet points on her bucket list. "That's okay," I reply, tilting my head. "At least we actually have seats, right?"

Ash grins, her maroon shaded lips accentuating the light freckles along the bridge of her nose. "See?" she chirps, arm winding through mine to pull me closer. "You get it. When do you not get it?"

Our plane calls for us to board, and so begins the toxic, anxiety-inducing split-up of the century. I lose all The Faces somewhere in the crowded line that gathers at our gate in just a matter of seconds. That's okay though, I'll probably end up sitting with some old lady that smells like an odd mixture of peonies, Dial soap, and Lysol. You know, a funeral home and two colds away from death. So long as she's nice, I'll catch her dentures when they fall out of her gaping mouth as she naps.

Anything for MawMaw.

I hobble my way into the plane, brain set on finding my seat before stressing about all other one hundred and fifty two things I have to worry about later. People are everywhere and it's, expectedly, a huge plane. Three rows-- two seaters against each wall and a row of three seats down the middle. Sickening, really. Social anxiety's worst enemy is looking for means of escape only to be met by even more people.

I block everyone out as best as I can, pretending that the people I bump into are just very dense pieces of furniture. Or, actually, even better-- a bunch of really buff kitties. Yep, just passing through a horde of Maine Coon's and Munchkin's.

I spot row F, my pupils zeroing in on the letter like a scope on a gun. Target acquired.

The majestic way I veer around what my mind imagines is a really tall Siamese and their spouse, a yellow Persian, is something that the directors of The Matrix are pissed that they couldn't come up with. I swing my foot around a figurative pair of paws and reach my free hand out to grip onto my seat-- F20. That's right bitches, I did it.

I swing my suitcase up, somehow managing to actually get it into the overhead compartment. I give it a good shove with both of my hands and a grunt, then pull the backpack off my shoulders to keep it at my feet when I sit down.

But now that I've stopped, cats are pushing past me and it's so aggressive and rushed that they suddenly aren't sweet, fluffy kitties anymore. They're people again and I'm starting to get dragged away from my seat by this sea of shared distress.

Nimble fingers latch onto my wrist from the seat beside mine-- the seat against the window. The hand tightens around me, giving my body a good yank forward. I use the aided force to weave my way around a few more people up until the hand pulls me into my seat.

I huff out a breath, pushing my hair out of the eyeholes of my mask. And begrudgingly, I turn my head to meet bright cerulean hair.

Sal isn't looking at me, he's facing the window. His entire stature gives off a mixture of unbothered and ashamed. He shouldn't feel that second one-- never. Granted, he shouldn't feel angry half as much as he does but that's besides the point.

Ever since it happened, I could tell that the abrupt exposure of his face has been heavily weighing on him. I don't owe this man a single thing-- he's been awful to me in so many ways, but I give credit where credit is due. Not only did he own up and apologize to me yesterday, he helped me to my seat... and he is handsome. Regardless of how he views himself.

He's my biggest enemy and I, his. But if I plan on getting fucked during my visit to Nockfell, I have to give him the Beating of Truth.

"So," I mumble, chewing on the inside of my cheek. If you couldn't tell, I'm absolutely forcing myself to do this even though it's the last thing I want to do. "How are we working around Ash, Larry, and Todd when we get to Nockfell?"

Sal's head tips up a bit, like he's wondering to himself if I actually just spoke to him. Then his head pivots sideways so that he can side-eye me.

"What?" He asks, voice genuinely shocked and confused. It makes my heart stutter a bit. Any time he speaks in a tone that isn't aggressive, it completely reboots my system.

"How are we going to follow through with this arrangement?" I try again, simplifying it into Sal terms. He has a wide vocabulary range; maybe using bigger words will snap some sense into him. For added effect, I lean onto the armrest separating him and I, trying to show that he doesn't repulse me or anything of the sort.

Sal doesn't move away, instead, he adjusts his body so that he can address me. Fully turns his prosthetic face to me and settles into his seat. I didn't realize how tense he was when I first sat down, but watching him relax now shows me how much my simple mention of our agreement settled his mental turmoil.

He's quiet for a moment, eyes dancing across my mask and body before his gaze meets mine again. "You still want to?" he finally decides to ask, eyebrows lifting beneath his prosthetic.

"Yea," I snort, scrunching my nose up as if his question is ridiculous. "Why wouldn't I?"

Okay, stupid question. I know the answer and the words came out before I could stop them. In more ways than others, that was a genuine response though. I can't accept that Sal would be so put off by his own appearance because I truly think it's so lovely. I have to remember though that not everyone sees themselves the way I see them though.

Sal's brows bunch together again, his eyes narrowing. "Stupid fucking question," he echoes my own thoughts, voice even and void of tone. Whoopsie.

I roll my own eyes, sighing. "Well, to settle the whole debacle," I start, aiming to just bite the bullet and extinguish the awkwardness and misplaced fear vibrating between us. "I think you're quite the catch."

Friendly banter is weird. Borderline uncomfortable, but... not quite. Just so that I'm ready to get this over with but I'd be prepared for it to happen again.

A nasally snort leaves Sal and he rotates his head so that he's facing the pair of seats in front of us.

"So," he prods, ignoring my statement. "North?"

Mission success. I know he'll never admit it and he doesn't need to, but I think he appreciates the compliment.

"What's it to you?" I counter, adjusting my position in turn. I sit criss-cross applesauce in my seat, making sure my feet don't touch Sal because God forbid. "You still get to fuck me."

"Not much," he says lowly, hand moving to ruffle up his fringe. There's that dagger tattoo again. And then his head tilts just a bit, haunting sapphire blue piercing straight through my soul like the weapon etched onto his skin. "But you're mine. North can't give you even an ounce of what I can."

Fuzzy fingers, a pounding heart, and the worst case of cold sweats possible dominates my body for the rest of the flight. My brain replays that statement over and over again, plaguing me with recurring physical reactions like I've just heard it in real life again. I wish he hadn't said anything at all if it was going to leave me like this.

Neither of us said another word. The only sound between the two of us was the constant cracking of my knuckles accompanied by me putting my feet on the ground-- then sitting criss-cross again-- then having to readjust again and again and again. He left me quite literally restless and I'm sure he's relishing in just the knowledge of it.

Landing in Nockfell was a quick divergence from bubbly hearted affliction in my being. A good distraction from Sal.

Perpetual autumn. Nockfell never gets too hot or cold. The air is always misty, the sky always grey and cloudy. Tall, ever-growing trees dominate both night and day, stealing all the light from the sun and hiding it in their leafy treetops. Nockfell houses the kind of atmosphere that I've dreamt of returning to for years now; the gentle eeriness and chill that I've longed to bask in ever since I left.

We step out of the airport and into the small parking lot where a suspiciously blue haired man is waving at us with a big, dad-like grin on his face. Not a question in my mind. That's Sal's dad-- the cropped, receding cerulean hair was the first obvious sign but as we grow closer, his bright azure eyes are the second giveaway.

"Wassup, daddio!" Larry exclaims, wrapping Sal's father up in a huge bear hug (which is so Emo Buff Daddy of him). I nearly forgot that Sal's dad, who I now know as Henry, is also Larry's step-dad. Crazy.

"Not much, big guy!" Henry chuckles, rubbing Larry's back affectionately once the hug comes to an end. He pats Larry's shoulder, that big smile still on his aged face. "You guys brought the friend back! Convinced her to come huff up our humid air?"

Henry moves over to Ash, Todd, and then Sal to hug all of them. He purposefully places a discreet kiss on top of Sal's head before turning to me.

He holds his arms open suggestively and my heart flutters. "You okay with hugs?" He asks me. "Everyone's family here."

A grin of my own sneaks onto my face as I take a little step toward Henry and wrap my arms around his middle.

Henry's arms latch around my body, shielding me from the moist, heavy air of Nockfell and anything else that could possibly hurt me here. His embrace is so comforting, so familiar, so protective that tears I've been holding back for weeks suddenly rush to the surface.

I love my own dad, he's perfect, but being hugged by his near doppelgänger reminds me of how much I miss him. I wish dad and I weren't apart so often. But that'll change soon with the money I'm making.

I don't allow myself to weep, I hide the tears and pull away from the comforting hug I needed so desperately to smile sweetly at Henry. Lovely man, his own smile widens.

The group of us piles into Henry's old 2000 Nissan Pathfinder to navigate around Nockfell.

We first stop at Ash's place-- a home I haven't seen in a decade now. Everything is so nostalgic-- the tall, two story, white-painted, wooden home and the canopy of evil-looking trees that hide it from the road reminds me of a time that's been ripped away from me.

Ash leans on the door of Henry's SUV, the window down for her to speak to me before she disappears. "I'll come by Sal's or the apartments later to scoop you up, 'kay? Parents and I have a meeting with some guys to transfer ownership of some things to me before the move." She chews on her lip, a deep yearning in her pretty eyes. "I'd let you stay with me if I could."

I shake my head at her-- I don't want her to feel guilty for handling business. "No that's okay." I tell her sweetly, grabbing onto her hand. "I'll kickback with the guys."

Ash smiles, squeezing my hand in hers before breaking off to head to her house.

Now, I never imagined I'd end up coming back to Nockfell in general, but to stand in Sal Fisher's home? These were even more improbable odds.

And worse, Todd suddenly slips out of the house with the very mean (he's ditching me!) excuse of meeting with Neil for a late lunch. That just leaves me, Larry, and Sal standing in the spacious kitchen of their shared two-story home. It's quaint, roomy, and pretty nice. I imagine it's kept up specifically because Sal tends to it.

And Sal, he doesn't say anything. Which is typical behavior from him. He only, swiftly, spins on his heels, luggage in hand, and disappears into a room right past the stairs. Okay, fair. It's late in the afternoon-- naptime.

And now it's down to two.

I look to Larry with a grin. And he's grinning back excitedly, wiggling around like an antsy child who's about to go on a field trip.

"I can't believe we managed to get you over here," he whisper-yells, screaming silently. You know, just open-mouthed and head tipped to the ceiling in pure excitement.

"Even Copernicus wouldn't be able to debunk this turn of events," I joke, watching Larry dance around his kitchen. I put my bags down. I'm sure we'll figure out this situation later when Ash returns.

Larry opens up his refrigerator, moving around some bottles before uttering an expletive. "Ah, fuck," he hisses out, quickly lifting his head which results in him slamming said head into the freezer door. I pause, wincing, eyeing his silhouette warily while awaiting whatever he has to say next.

He resurfaces from the fridge, rubbing his aching head and chewing on his bottom lip. "I left my fucking bags in Henry's car." He curses again, glancing up at me with agitated eyes. "I have to run over to the apartments real quick." Larry starts inching away from the fridge and I feel my heart leap. How could he forget his luggage in the car? And is he really about to leave me here with the master of aggressive seduction himself? We're bound to tear this house apart either via sex or a physical fight. I just don't know which one.

"I'll be like... ten minutes at most," Lar says, squeezing past me and around the kitchen table, rerouting to the front door. He gives me a look that screams vulnerability and urgency. "Please don't kill Sal, and don't let him kill you. Okay? I'll be back in a jiffy."

I blink at him, running my tongue along the inside of my dry mouth. This is not going to go well. "Okay," I say anyway. I can already see the headline on the newspaper-- 'Masked Streamer, Sally Face, Brutally Murders and Chops Up Rising Streamer, VioletViolence, With Kitchen Knife.'

Larry nods at me, pinches his lips together in a moment of concerned hesitation, then disappears through the front door.

I stand in the empty kitchen for a moment, watching the back of Larry's head through the front door window. "In a jiffy..." I murmur to myself, recalling the most soccer-mom words I've ever heard come from Larry's vicinity. It was so odd, I mean he would never say something like that, but here we are.

The house is empty aside from myself and Sal. What the hell am I supposed to do? Watch The Office?-- well, that actually doesn't sound bad at all.

I can literally do anything I want, though. I have been given the most opportune opportunity to act upon my will as I see fit. With that in mind accompanied by the suspiciously good conversation a certain blue-haired individual and I shared on the plane, I think I have an idea of what I could do. And I know I'll have a willing partner.

This will either end in a homicide via kitchen knife or an orgasm. I'll take my chances.

A sly little grin fights its way onto my lips as I spin on my heels, trekking over to Sal's room. His door is closed, giving him an ample amount of darkness to hide in while gaming or sleeping or whatever he's doing. But for me, it's the ample amount of darkness to create a moody setting. It's perfect.

The cold, metal doorknob sits comfortably in the palm of my hand as I give myself one last chance to think about this. I really shouldn't do this, but the timing will never be this good again. With everyone moving to LA, I may never get a chance this convenient since someone will always be around.

That's the last little bit of encouragement I need to twist the knob and slowly push the plain, white painted door open.

The wood squeaks on its hinges, making Sal turn his head up from his PC. His dark, shadowed eyes meet mine. They go from curious to a bit miffed in half a second— but he doesn't say anything, really just ignores me and turns back to his setup.

My heart races. He didn't turn me away or tell me to get the fuck out of his room. That's a good start. But that also means I can actually follow through with my very sudden plan— a plan which has no plan. I didn't even brainstorm what I could do because I genuinely didn't think I'd get this far.

I watch him closely, noting the way his computer casts a cool, blue glow against his prosthetic. His hand moves the mouse around and he clicks on various things, really paying me no mind at all.

My teeth clamp onto my bottom lip as I step past the threshold of his room, grabbing hold of the door and slowly closing it behind me. Once it latches into place, I wait, simply observing the man with my back to the door. For good measure, I turn the lock. You know, just in case I manage to get somewhere.

And he still doesn't look my way. The fact that he's ignoring my presence right now makes anticipation build up within me. My heart thumps a little faster than it already has been. My cheeks feel warm, I can't keep my hands still. It's like my brain is kicked into overdrive, forcing me to take notice of every little thing.

I lick my lips and take a step forward, scratching at the skin on my knuckles. I take another step, then another, my body growing warm with anxiousness all because I may stand in front of this man, present myself to him, and come to regret it. I really might embarrass myself. Just because we agreed doesn't mean he wants me at this exact moment.

But before I'm even really prepared, I'm standing right beside him. And he's sitting there without a care in the world, comfortably propped up in his gaming chair and pulling up different comments on what looks to be YouTube.

I've done about all I can for right now, but we are on limited time. So I watch him for a moment. He has to know I'm right here— I wasn't quiet, I didn't avoid his field of vision. I'm right here.

And I still get nothing.

Time to think. Should I say something insulting? That usually gets him riled up. Maybe then, one thing will lead to another.

I bounce on my heels for a second as I think up a quick insult. "Is this how you waste your time? Figured you'd at least reply to some of your fans if you were going to read their comments. Kinda shitty of you." Low blow probably. I don't really mean it, but I'm sure he'll take it seriously. His fans mean a lot to him, it's the best way to gain his attention.

But Sal doesn't even react, only scrolls through a few replies under a comment and clicks 'like' on a some. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't look at me. Never makes a sound.

I roll my eyes. Playing hard to get are we? He fusses at me for not complying all the time— he's such a hypocritical asshole. I hate that I'm into it.

I swallow thickly, putting my hands behind my back to try and hide my nervous fidgeting. "Sal," I try, cringing a bit. That was desperation— he has to know that.

Again, nothing.

He really must be trying to piss me off, that or he isn't interested at all. But thankfully, the zero interest half doesn't stink like I was afraid it would. Instead, it spurs me into action.

He can ignore my words all he wants, but he can't ignore me.

"I'm going to touch you," I warn because consent is important. "If you don't want that, you need to tell me."

I wait a good thirty seconds but he stays silent.

I pinch my lips together then grab onto the armrest of his chair, pulling it back just enough to place my body between him and his computer. He simply looks up at me with disinterested eyes, so I go further, fueled by the spark in my soul and the rage of him purposefully pretending I'm not even there.

I take a step forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder for balance, then easily slide myself onto his lap. His thighs are warm beneath my own, his skin smooth under my fingertips. The dark ink on his biceps contrasts beautifully with the milky color of his skin and it's quite an honor to finally run my hands over his art.

I watch the way my fingers drag down his arm then up again, returning to his shoulder. I'm on top of him and he still hasn't said a word, still hasn't touched me. At this point, I'm yearning for something— anything.

The only good sign I'm getting is that he hasn't pushed me off.

I glance up, looking into his blue eyes that are darkened by the shadows of his room. They're watching me closely, no ounce of emotion reflected in them. He's just observing.

My other hand travels to his prosthetic face, gripping onto his jaw in the way that he does to me so often. "Think you can ignore me?" I whisper, a little smirk quirking my lips despite how badly I wish I could contain it.

A slight furrowing of his brows is what I get in return.

Ha, got him.

He still doesn't say anything, but I've piqued his interest at least.

"Larry's gone," I say next, my eyes traveling to the rough prosthetic in my hands. I run my thumb over the underside of his jaw, feeling a number of scars.

"I assumed so," he says, voice a bit deeper than it normally would be and toneless like it seems to have been all day.

My gaze meets his again, and this time there's a little fire in his pretty eyes. There's desire, interest, slow-building exhilaration. I love seeing this look on him.

"Mhm," I hum, moving my other hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck. "Are you going to sit here and ignore me like the asshole you are, or are you going to have mercy on both of us?"

Sal slowly blinks, eyes traveling over my form, drinking me in like I'm the last drop of water on earth. "You called me an asshole for a reason," he bites out. "Don't expect much. Unlike you, I can actually hold out."

"But what's the point of holding out?" I counter, tilting my head to the left. "Larry's heading to the apartments. We have about ten minutes. That's enough room for one of a couple options. Stop being a little prick and do something."

"More like twenty. Larry takes his sweet ass time." Sal's eyes narrow. "You think insulting me is going to coerce me into this, you little bitch? Thought you knew our dynamic well enough by now." My words are getting to him. That's exactly what I want.

"I do know our dynamic," I whisper, leaning my head down so that my face is level with his. I look into his cerulean eyes and they gaze back at me, one pupil dilated. Then, I bend lower until I'm at the nape of his neck, his hair tickling my jaw.

I use the hand holding his face to tilt his head up and away from me, using the angle as leverage to place my lips onto his warm skin.

I hear a muffled sigh from him in response and it takes everything in me not to smile.

My mouth moves slowly along the side of his neck, placing meaningful, wet kisses along his throat. But when I get to the hilt of his tattoo, I bit down gently.

He flinches at the feeling of my teeth digging into his skin, then completely aborts his mission to ignore me completely.

Sal's hands fly to my waist, one gripping tightly onto my hip and the other trailing up my back and into my hair, gripping the strands tightly before yanking my head back.

My teeth are ripped from his neck immediately and Sal pulls me away from him by the base of my neck. I gasp, staring into his captivating azure eyes from just centimeters away. His prosthetic nose bumps my mask's and he holds me there without a word.

His eyes trail down my face and heavy breaths follow his gaze. His cold fingers are curled into my neck, his nails digging into my skin.

I swallow, wondering if maybe I should have just minded my own business, stayed in the living room and waited for Larry to come back. Maybe I pissed him off.

I lick my lips and blink at him, my mouth gapes open as I try to find something to say. He's silent. It's not awkward, just scary. Scary is ten times worse.

Sal must see the regret and fear in my eyes because his own eyes lessen their harsh glare a bit and then he rasps out, "Can I touch you?"

Every inch of my body goes rigid with shock, anticipation. "Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers tighten ever so slightly on the underside of his jaw while my heart runs an entire marathon in my chest. Now is not the time to get nervous because I sweat when I'm nervous. I need to be horny– not nervous.

Sal takes a deep breath, eyes set on mine. I feel his chest rise ever so slowly, then go back down the same exact way. The pause between us is utter agony and I feel like I'm going to start spazzing out or something. Honestly, with the way I'm sitting on top of him, I might just fall over and die on the spot. That feels less incriminating than whatever is about to ensue.

Cool fingers grasp onto my thigh, his palm flattening against my skin. His hand drags up to my side, followed by his other hand leaving my neck to grab the other side of my waist. The feeling of him touching me, just like he'd asked, fills me with memories I tried so desperately to forget just a couple weeks or so ago. This is deja vu in the best way.

In one swift motion, Sal lifts me up and plops me on top of his desk. I brace myself with my hands on either side of his keyboard that lays behind me. Questions of concern start flowing through my brain because this is an odd place to be.

"Don't knock over my shit," Sal breathlessly informs, eyes glancing up to me. HIs hands move to the waist band of my bottoms and I suck in another anxious, anticipatory breath.

I nod quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he looks down at my waist, his hands circling to the front of my stomach and fumbling with the button of my shorts. Oh my gosh.

I gulp, looking at anything but the man between my legs, currently pulling down the shorts I'd traveled in. His cold fingers brush along the outside of my thighs, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. He's slow, purposeful, dragging this out to get whatever reaction out of me that he can. It feels like my heart is about to explode.

I have no idea what he's about to do, he doesn't warn me either. I don't have the guts to watch this scene play out. The prospect of his dilated pupils, messy hair, and that glare in his captivating eyes is too much-- so much that warmth pools between my thighs before he can initiate anything.

"You look scared," he murmurs and I flinch at the gentle, comforting tone he uses with me. I've never heard something such as this come from him and be directed at mebefore.

"I am," I answer honestly, licking my lips while his fingers slowly pull my shorts down my legs. I lift myself a bit to aid him, shivering when my bare legs meet the cold surface of his desk. "A bit."

"Why?" Sal asks, hands pressing onto my thighs. With how warm my skin is and how cool his fingers are, the contrasting temperature is enough to spark an aneurysm. He drags those hands of his up my legs until he reaches my panties, hooking his digits into them.

I shake my head, chin quite literally tilted up to the ceiling. I'm not quite sure what has me so scared. Am I afraid of myself? Him? Getting caught? Being dropped again?

One risky hand leaves my hip and Sal's prosthetic comes into view. He's hovering over me, in a standing position now. His hair falls onto my shoulders, shielding us from the rest of the world like a curtain. I blink up at him, breath caught in my throat as a rush of chills invades my body.

"Hey," he says. His voice is a bit on edge, but it's concerned. So concerned that it distracts me from my own fear for a moment. "You're okay," he continues, his hand gripping onto my chin and pulling my head down so we can be eye level. I look between his bright eyes-- his eyebrows are risen a bit, as if to communicate to me that I can trust him. But can I?

"I'll take care of you. If you want to stop, if you don't want to start-- let me know. Say anything and I'll end it immediately." He tilts his head a bit, eyes glancing over my face. This is different. This looks vulnerable. "If I made you uncomfortable at all, I--"

My head shakes in opposition. I don't even have to think about it. "No, it's not that. It-- I trust you." The words spew out of my mouth and I immediately regret it. Something smug takes over his expression and I press my lips together, grabbing onto his wrist connected to the hand that's still holding my chin. "I trust you with this. If I was tied to train tracks, I wouldn't even think of calling you." I narrow my eyes at him to exemplify my point. His eyes squint as if he's... smiling? I'll ignore that. "But you've never... made me uncomfortable. You always ask. You always check. So..."

I watch him nod slowly, our gazes never disconnecting. He seems to contemplate what I've said, measurably formulating his next move. "Do you want to talk about what's stressing you then?"

My head rears back and my eyebrows furrow, his hand falling away from my face. "What brain eating amoeba has overtaken you?" I blurt out, holding a hand out between us. It's incredibly odd-- this is out of place. "You are never concerned about me-- what is this?"

If you can't tell, I'm not a fan of change. I greatly prefer stability even if it's toxic.

Sal drops the caring act almost immediately, his eyes rolling so hard that I'm worried they'll sink into his body. "I can't go down on you if you're freaked, can I? I wouldn't even feel comfortable doing that. I'm an asshole, not a monster."

I pause, every facial feature relaxing as his statement slaps me in the face. Key words: go, down, on, you, asshole, monster. Yep, only monstrous assholes go down on their enemies. I'm the very brave, very eager, very shocked recipient of this going down.

I take a deep, shaky breath, blinking at Sal who watches me with what looks like a raised eyebrow. "Okay," I breathlessly whisper. "How are you-- are you..." Why am I rambling? What kind of answer am I looking for? Obviously the prosthetic is about to come off and I just have to contain the desperate, whore-like rage within.

"Shut up, Vi," he chuckles over my nickname, grabbing onto my thighs and tugging me to the edge of the desk as he sits in his chair again. My fingertips press into the wooden surface while my heart threatens to pound its way through my ribcage. "Just let me taste you."

Cue internal screaming. I'm so going to faint-- and the addition of watching his pretty guitar-playing hands leave my skin to unbuckle his prosthetic is pushing me to astronomical heights. I don't even exist anymore. I'm just a wisp, a little phantom fairy watching her favorite sex movie play out in real time. It's called Faceless Fixation. She's the Fellatio Fairy. I don't even-- whoever is writing my life needs to give me a break.

I'm shivering like I have hypothermia by the time Sal carefully pulls the prosthetic off his face, making sure to not mess up his hair. And then he glances up at me. Bright eyes hesitant, sort of wide. Eyebrows risen just a bit and lips pressed together like he wants to say a thousand things but can't. He looks so nervous and it's a moment we can both share.

For reassurance (I think we both need it) I smile at him. Just a slight upward tilt of my lips as I press my thighs together. He's so beautiful. Every scar, every indentation, every feature, every little freckle. Just wow-- he's a sight to behold.

Sal's gaze flits to my lips, then down to my legs and he grabs onto them again, purposefully pulling them apart. His black polished nails dig into my skin as he gazes down at my underwear. I'm so used to watching his reactions and feelings portrayed only through his eyes, but watching the way his jaw tenses and the moment his lips part like he can't wait any longer makes me feel like I'll implode.

His fingers run up my legs to my hips, dipping into my panties and pulling them downward. I gulp over the sight, relishing in the deja vu. How kind of him to not rip these this time.

I lift myself up as he shimmies them down my legs, finally pulling them from around my ankles and holding them up for me to see. I blink, warmth rushing to my face at his boldness. And Sal, well-pleased, quirks a little seductive smile at them before switching his gaze to me.

"I haven't even touched you and you're soaked," is what he murmurs, eyes dancing over my half naked body with very little focus on my face. It's like he's glued to what hides behind my clenched thighs, eagerly awaiting what he'll find between them. "You're inflating my ego way too much," his voice is a bit louder this time-- darker, more sinister. The pronunciation of his words shows off charming, slightly crooked front teeth and sharp canines. I'll never know how I haven't ascended already.

I shiver, trying and failing to hide my reaction. But it doesn't really matter, seeing as Sal caught onto it anyway and his hooded eyes are on mine, a dangerous glint clashing with the hypnotizing azure shade of his irises.

His hands are on my legs again, fingers roughly squeezing my skin. He isn't putting off his plans again though. When he separates my legs and I try my best not to push him away out of fear, Sal leans forward and presses his lips to the inside of my left thigh.

I take a deep, shuddering breath as I bathe in the feeling of his soft, jagged lips moving along my sensitive skin. I commit the image to memory, absolutely astonished over the way his blue eyes are closed while he inches closer and closer to my pussy.

I'm unable to take a full breath at this point, my body is tense while I try to hold myself in an upright position, pathetically falling apart as his mouth dances along the inside of my thigh like he's studied and perfected each step he takes. His hands are molded into my skin, they've become a part of me. He's pressing my thigh up to his face, leaving the most inebriating kisses. I wish he would stop teasing me already.

At the same time, I'm obsessed with the way he's handling me. Delicately, carefully, but he's in full control and making me wait. Testing me. Seeing if I'll push him, hoping I'll give him a good reason to punish me.

Sal's eyes open again, glancing up to meet mine. I suck in a breath, watching as he opens that dirty mouth of his and bites into the sensitive skin at the top of my thigh.

I hiss, wincing at the slight pain but my eyes never leave his. They could never. And he loves that, takes it as a challenge because those sky blue eyes close and he bites down harder, sucking my skin into his mouth to leave his mark.

Some kind of satisfied, sickeningly delighted feeling swells in my chest at the knowledge of having a mark from him on my body. It's primal, it's a little weird, but I adore the idea and maybe he does too. After what he said to me about North on the flight to Nockfell, I'd guess he's more than happy to stake his claim even if it's invisible to the outside world.

Sal finally pulls his teeth from my leg, revealing a gnarly, dark purple mark in his wake. He places a quick, soothing kiss to the abused skin before trailing his way closer to my pussy. He masks his destination with more wet kisses and bites and I'm so worked up by now that a light sheen of sweat has formed on my forehead. I can't be doing this-- this is complete torture.

"Sal," I groan out, flinching at the sinful tone of my voice. It makes him pause his movements as well. "Please," I tack on, the word quiet and agonizingly pleading.

He hums against my skin, eyes zeroed in on mine. I hate being so direct, it's terrifying, but it's worth it if it'll end up with his tongue buried in me, right?

"Beg for it," he says lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. His tone makes me shiver, as well as his words and I would drop to my hands and knees if he told me to right now.

My lips part upon hearing him and I release a shaky breath, thighs drawing together until he stops them with his tight grip. My heart is running a marathon, my limbs are trembling and I'm wondering if maybe this is all just a really awesome dream.

"Please," I repeat, voice coming out as a whine. For once, I don't regret it because this is what he wants. "I'm desperate." I don't know how else to portray to him that I need this-- the wait is nearly excruciating. "I need to feel you."

Sal pulls away from my skin, tongue lapping at all of his bite marks before a sadistic smile pulls at his lips. "How much do you hate me?" And he's waiting, waiting for a wordy explanation of my distaste for him. But now, with the way things have changed between us-- even if it's slightly-- describing my loathing somehow feels harder.

So I snort, trying to coerce him into putting his mouth on me again regardless of the location. But all the shivers, waiting, and very slow building orgasm is slipping away into the distance. "A lot," I whisper shakily.

He gives me a look, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together as if I've disappointed him. "You can do better than that, Vi. Where's the fire?" He leans toward the thigh he hasn't captured with his mouth yet and skims his teeth along my skin. "Should I give you an example?"

I lick my lips, a sudden fluttering in my chest making me feel light headed. I hesitantly shake my head-- the longer he isn't paying attention to me, the farther I am from cumming. I can come up with something to say can't I? Of course I can. He's infuriating enough.

"Alright then," he mumbles monotonously, finally ditching my thighs. He yanks me a bit closer, eyes still rifling through my soul. "Then tell me. And if you stop," he warns as I swallow against the pounding in my chest due to his positioning, face mere inches from my sopping cunt. He's dragged this on long enough. "I stop. Keep that filthy mouth of yours moving."

He waits for me to launch into a monologue of detest. His mouth so close to my clit, breath tickling my skin and forcing a quiet little whimper from me.

"I fucking hate the constant foul mood you're always in," I force out, feeling my heart leap into my throat the second the words leave my mouth. Because Sal keeps his promise and with an inebriating grunt of approval, he finally attaches his lips to my clit, tongue running over it like he's desperate to soak up every inch of what I have to offer.

The feeling of his mouth on my pussy is incomparable to any other type of satisfaction in the world-- this is what I've waited for. And he happily makes up for the lost time, expertly flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves and sucking it farther into his mouth. He moans against my cunt, hands dragging up my thighs to cup my ass and force me even closer to him. He squeezes my skin, a reminder to keep talking.

I dig up all the things I can't stand about him, slathering them across my brain so I can tell him about it. "You're a brick wall. No matter what I say, you refuse to listen. How come you're never open to hearing anyone out?" I whimper between words, squirming around on his desk and trying my damn hardest not to ruin any of his belongings.

Sal lifts my legs over his arms, pushing them onto his shoulders and I swear I'm about to combust. The way his tongue maps figure eights and circles around my clit does nothing to help, only sends me further toward falling apart.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fingers curling over the edge of his desk, heavy breaths and quiet moans falling past my lips no matter how badly I wish I could keep them inside. "You have some kind of God complex. You think you're right about everything, have to be in control of everything and I can't stand it. I can't stand you and your constant need to have everything you want."

His teeth graze over my clit and my mouth falls open, waves of pleasure rolling through my body like I've never experienced before. He moves downward, his tongue buried between my folds and licking up every bit of my arousal that he can get. Upon getting a better taste of me, he moans and I can feel the vibration of it everywhere, all the way up to my fingertips.

"I hate how easily you turn me on, how wet I get just from a simple touch," I admit, teeth clamping down onto my bottom lip as his tongue explores the inside of my pussy like he's been starved of me for far too long. His nails dig into my skin, the action eliciting a stinging sensation that only adds to the pleasure he's giving me. This is everything. "And you're so unfair. So pretty, so damn attractive with that horrible personality of yours. Why can't you be pretty through and through?"

I open my eyes again to watch him, drowning in the prospect of his face buried between my thighs, cheeks flushed and hair a mess. I watch as he drags his mouth up to my clit again, drawing patterns and shapes I don't care to know over the bundle of nerves. The rough, slick feeling of his tongue on such a sensitive place is addicting. So long as he's around to bring me to new heights like this, I don't need anything else. Maslow's hierarchy of needs has never been so wrong-- this is my sole need.

I can't help myself-- I reach a hand out, my fingers burying themselves into Sal's hair. It's soft. Just as soft as I knew it would be. And he doesn't seem to mind, only continues to suck on my clit and abuse it with his tongue. I close my hand into a fist, lightly tugging on his hair. I need something to hold onto.

"And your stupid fucking mouth," I groan out, sucking in a breath that never fully fills my lungs. His tongue dips into my pussy again, making another little groan follow my first. My thighs are clenched tightly at this point, quaking furiously. Sal never tries to stop me, doesn't calm me. It's clear how much he enjoys bringing me to ruin. "All the awful things you say, so many dirty words and you are so good with your tongue. I've never craved and loathed something so much in my life."

Sal smiles against my pussy-- I watch in pure amazement as the corners of his lips curl upward like what I said was everything he's always wanted to hear. It's so lewd, so perverted and I absolutely will never forget this moment.

One of his hands lets go of my ass, trailing down my thigh again but moving to the inside this time. As his teeth gently nip at my clit and his tongue laps at my pussy, the tips of his fingers press against my opening, a silent request for more of my profession of hatred. A profession I'm more than happy to give him.

"I can't imagine how much I'll hate the way you fuck me just because I know it'll be better than any sex I've had before," I tell him, watching his mouth move against my cunt with furrowed brows and my lips parted in intrigue. Oh, he's so good at what he does.

Sal's eyes meet mine again. Eye contact with him when he's in such an erotic position is incredibly intense. I feel like my entire body is going to crumple before he can finish me off and it all counts on if he's able to hold me up or not. But as soon as his cerulean gaze meets mine, two of his fingers sink into me. The action is slow, drawn out, and drags a nasty moan out of me in turn.

Sal whimpers against my pussy, taking care of me like he promised he would. When his fingers reach as far as they can go, he curls them, causing me to flinch at the sensuous feeling. There's so much going on to the point that every inch of my body feels impossibly overwhelmed.

My sensitive clit gets sucked into Sal's mouth again, but then he pulls away. His fingers make up for the absence of his tongue, pounding into me in the same salacious way he's done before.

"Is that all you've got?" he grumbles breathlessly, glazed eyes glaring into mine. This is the expression I'm used to with him-- anger and dominance.

I choke on the breath I try to take, my thighs pressing into his neck as his fingers slam in and out of my soaked cunt, digits only pausing their relentless pace to curl into me. I try to fight against my one working brain cell, try to form words for him, but-- "I can't." is all that I'm able to create, the two short words coming out as an imploring cry.

Sal stands, finger-fucking me into an alternate dimension. He hovers over me, his hair brushing my shoulders and neck. I watch him, an absolute mess beneath him but I can't look away-- even through the panting breaths that morph into whimpers and moans.

His eyes glance between mine, seemingly contemplating something in that meticulous mind of his.

"Yea, you can, gorgeous," he grinds out behind clenched teeth, using the hand that's gripping my ass to press me against his chest. Our even closer proximity somehow forces his fingers deeper into my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Tell me more." My mouth is dry, I'm going to cum soon, and hopefully I don't actually fall over before that.

Sal takes a page out of my book, leaning closer to me and nipping at the skin of my throat. A little gasp falls past my lips and I finally let go of his hair, dragging my hand down to his neck. Those fingers work me to the core, never ceasing their movements and pushing into me with so much perfectly applied force.

His mouth moves along the side of my neck, his lips still wet from my juices. I have no idea what gave him the confidence, but I'm not mad. Everything that couldn't be done with his prosthetic can be done now and he's taking advantage of it. "Speak," he snaps, tone not so gentle or comforting like it was when this first began. "Or else."

My mind is blank. "I'm about to cum," I begrudgingly whisper, completely overtaken by his fingers thrusting into me and his thumb focused on my oversensitive clit.

I shut my eyes, my free arm wrapping around his shoulders. Every inch of my body is tense, senses heightened and alert. I don't think I can possibly hold on any longer-- I doubt Sal needed my confirmation to tell that I'm close.

His digits curl into me again, repeating the action. I follow up with a loud whimper, my nails digging into the skin of his neck as he sucks on the skin behind my ear. I wish he'd have ditched the prosthetic sooner because I've really been missing out.

The hand still gripping onto my butt retreats to my stomach, fingers disappearing under my shirt and crawling across my ribs to my bra. He treats it as if it isn't even there, hand easily dipping beneath the fabric. His palm envelops my breast, squeezing gently and massaging the skin. It's such a considerate touch compared to the way he treats the rest of my body-- he knows exactly where the sweet spots are.

"Cum," he commands, lips brushing the shell of my ear and fingers pounding into my sore cunt, thumb running over my hardened nipple.

My head drops onto his shoulder and with one more curl of his fingers, I do as he says and fall apart in his arms. I burst almost instantly, doing anything to keep myself silent over the feeling of his fingers gently caressing the inside of my pussy, riding me through my orgasm just like he did the first time. My teeth sink into his shoulder, a muffled whimper following soon after. Sal tenses up in my arms, a pleasured breath falling from his mouth and fanning over the side of my neck.

"Good girl," he purrs into my ear, lips skimming over the warm skin at my throat. He leaves one more sloppy kiss to my neck then pulls away to look into my eyes again. I can hardly hear anything he says as my teeth are forced away from his shoulder, still reeling from the orgasm that slammed into me nearly unannounced. My limbs feel like jelly as chills run up my spine. "You listen to me so well," he continues. I can't even look into his eyes; I just watch the way his lips move. How his tongue presses into the back of his teeth to pronounce a syllable. His sharp canines that undoubtedly left their own bruises on my skin.

I gulp, unable to peel my eyes away from the mouth that masterfully brought me to climax. For the first time ever, I wonder what his mouth would feel like against mine. How soft his scarred lips would feel, not on my skin, but captured by my own. What his tongue would taste like. What his teeth would feel like nipping at my lips.

Sal doesn't move away from me-- keeps our close proximity with his nose nearly brushing my mask's. He slowly, delicately pulls his fingers out of me but only continues to gaze into my eyes.

This is dangerous territory. Very dangerous. Because the impossible is coursing through me right now and I... somehow can't find it in me to hate him in this exact moment.

But then he blinks. Stands to his full height, moving away from me. His azure gaze turns to the desk I'm sitting on and he grabs my panties, offering them to me. Not an ounce of emotion evident on his face. I'd always wondered what he'd look like simply because I was curious if his face gave away his emotions better than his eyes could. It's pretty impressive how he's able to keep a straight mug though, RBF and all. Especially when he lifts the hand he fingered me with to his mouth and licks my cum off. He doesn't even look at me as his tongue runs up the length of his digit, just turns away from me and walks to the other side of the room.

I'm floored, jaw dropped and pussy wet. Again. That's really fucking hot.

I watch him strut away, follow his movements as he drops to his haunches and opens up his suitcase with his clean hand. He grabs something then faces me again, beginning to walk back with a finger still in his mouth.

My chest tightens at the sight. He can't be doing this to me. Not when Larry is going to be home any minute-- he needs to keep both his hands at his sides.

Thankfully, Sal has some mercy on me and finally finishes cleaning his fingers, eyes darting up to mine again. He walks up to me, right where I'm still sitting on top of his desk and drops fabric onto my bare thighs.

My brows furrow and I look down, grabbing lace. I lift it up, unfolding it to see that it's a near replica of the lace underwear he'd ripped off of me in Vegas. Only it's a completely brand new pair. No rips, no issues. My heart swells a bit at the gesture-- he bought a new pair like I'd told him to. I wasn't even serious, but he did it anyway.

I puff out my cheeks, contemplating what to say. Thank you's are virtually nonexistent between us. My eyes flit up to meet his again and he stuffs his hands into his pockets, watching me.

"You taste good," he nonchalantly comments, causing an infuriating blush to heat my cheeks.

"Thanks," I murmur, holding up the lace panties to show that I'm thankful for them too. "You taste pretty good too." He does. I'll have to return the favor to him when I get the chance.

A barely audible snort comes from him and I almost smile.

"I'd fuck you, but Larry will be back any minute and Ash probably isn't far behind him," he says, turning on his heel and walking toward the door. "I suggest you put your clothes back on. Panties are clean, I washed them."

My eyebrows raise and I pinch my lips together. Huh. "How kind of you," I say half sarcastically. Only half because it's helpful that they are clean-- it's almost like he knew he'd place me in a predicament where I needed fresh underwear. "You trying to kick me out?" I add. Of course he is, I'm just trying to make my way out of here as awkward-less as possible.

"Hell yea," he says proudly, "I have shit to do."

"Are you calling me a distraction?" I ask, looking toward him as I shimmy my underwear and shorts up my legs then start working on the button.

Sal tilts his head, hand on the doorknob. "And a mild aggravation."

"Oh, wow," I gasp, feigning surprise. "Mild? I must be working my way onto your good side."

"Fuck me good enough and we'll see how far you get," he replies, eyes watching my every move but face still unreadable as I begin walking toward him.

I roll my eyes. Of course. I pinch my lips together and give him a disinterested look. This is my lesson to never try to have a casual conversation with him again. He clearly doesn't want it, which, fair. Our agreement is sex, not friendship. "Okay," I say dramatically when he opens the door for me. "Bye, Sal."

The man nods his head, acknowledging the shift in the room. His eyes stay glued to mine like they have been the entire time I've been here. Now that I'm not distracted by his mouth on my pussy, I realize that this is an odd thing for him to do. He looks at me every once in a while, but not in such a... scrutinizing way.

He purses his lips and says, "Bye, y/n."

Every nerve-ending in my body suddenly shuts off. Everything is still. I have no thoughts for a moment, no physical reaction. Just stillness. I don't breathe, I don't move. I just watch him.

There's no way— he has to have mixed up my names. It has to be that.

And then everything hits me. Sal Fisher just said my name. And not the fake one that I've been hiding behind. He said my actual name— the one that's on my birth certificate. And now my hands are shaking, my heart is racing, my breaths are uneven, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"What the fuck," I say shakily. I'm not ready for this. I'm going to completely switch his thought process around-- "did you just say?"

The look in his eyes changes, they light up a bit as if he's caught me. And still he decides to mess with me. "Huh?" he innocently asks.

Okay, I'd really like to wake up now.

My eyes narrow. So that's the game he wants to play? This isn't the time and I don't have the mental capacity to handle this. Not only am I recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm, but I was just getting over the overwhelming anxiety I suffered from yesterday.

"I'm not y/n, if that's what you're thinking," I rush to tell him, even adding in the fakest little smirk I've ever slapped onto my face. Anything to get him off my tail, whatever I can think of to save my ass. This really can't be happening to me.

He's still watching me speculatively and it's making my brain itch. "You know," he finally starts, voice disgustingly pleased. "I went out on a limb with that one." I watch in horror as a little smirk begins to grow on his face. I don't want to accept it yet, I really don't, but I think I'm fucked and not physically.

At the end of the day, he's still managed to fuck me in multiple ways. I cannot stand Sal Fisher.

"What are you even talking about?" I ask him, clearing my throat quietly while taking a safe step out of his door and into the living room. I try my best to keep my eyes on him while extinguishing the fear from my gaze. If I act horrified, he'll sniff me out instantly. That is, if he hasn't already.

Sal chuckles deeply— it's, shockingly, an amused and prideful one rather than something sick, dark, and twisted. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. I try my best not to adore the way his scars stretch with his laugh and the sight of his pretty teeth. "Any other woman would have assumed I was sleeping with someone else if I called them by another name," he says lightheartedly, tilting his head down a bit. "But you didn't. And that can only mean that I'm right."

I open my mouth to decline, fear thrumming through me. He caught me red handed. I can't fucking believe this.

"And don't try to deny it, you won't change my mind. I've been very sure of who you are for months now."

My head slowly begins to shake of its own accord. He never fails to shock me. "How..."

Sal shrugs. "You couldn't have timed your introduction more horrendously. Think about it," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. "I bitch at y/n over a phone call, then the next day, a wild VioletViolence pops into my life and isn't too surprised by my shitty personality. The second you were added to the Discord server, I had my suspicions." He shrugs nonchalantly, like the confirmation doesn't bother him in the slightest. "I talked it over with Larry and Todd too. They're pretty sure of your identity as well. They were just nice enough to wait for you to tell us on your own." His eyes narrow, sly like a fox. "But I'm not nice and wanted to know for myself. Wanted to scare you a bit too."

I swallow over the bile rising in my throat. Scare me, he did. I have no idea what to do with myself. I must look like a deer in headlights nearing its death sentence. "It... it doesn't bother you?" I decide to ask in a small voice, unable to blink as I watch him closely.

That same smug little smile is still lighting up his marred face as he says, "Regardless, I still can't stand you and I'll still fuck you stupid."

-----------

A/N::::::: OMFFGGGGG I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CHAPTER FOR AGESSSSSS PLEASE!!! more specifically the end of it! i've had this last scene written since like... 2022 o_O

i want to give a HUGE thanks to my very good friend, Phoebe, who inspired me to write the catalyst of the smut scene with this AMAZING piece of art that they drew :3 i am soooo so grateful for having the opportunity to see the art in general, but getting to write it too??? OMG so incredibly grateful <33

side note: this is my first time writing a smut scene like this one-- well, actually any time i write a different kind of sex it's new for me LMFAO i am exploring EVERYTHINGGGG and i also have no idea if this is any good. so like last chapter, if y'all could give me some tips or things you like and didn't like, i would GREATLY appreciate it :3

i'm going catch up on my neglected homework. as always, have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night. my heart belongs to all of you <3

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic #smut

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ahundredtimesover · 2 months

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WOOWEEE i’m still processing the new chapter 🥹 i just wanna stress that there’s multiple realities, guys. jk wanting to respect oc by upholding her wishes to grow, but also feeling abandoned by her choices despite him baring his emotions and desire to have her close by. then you have oc feeling the burden of her family ties/debt with the jeon family and wanting to find out who she is away from her current role, but she’s emotionally attached to jk and it’s blurring with her own goals. not only that, we see jk’s codependency on oc and how that could make her feel more chained down. ultimately she’s always needed by someone, but when has she put her needs first?

as mentioned, this is all so deeply rooted. they need to spend time away from each other to grow. jk is probably going to retreat/relapse to his past behaviors or maybe he’ll also be working on himself so that he can be a better partner for oc … my guts say former because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i’m an angst enthusiast.

ALSO i see lots of ppl saying UGH JUST STAY AND DATE, and while yes … this is a fic, this is a slice of life too. yall realize it is super inappropriate to have a secret relationship with your boss? granted all of my bosses have been old balding dudes and not jk, still … it’s the principle 😭 oc and jk having this “separation” period is good (i’m sleeping on the highway) and needed for their character development. i’m sure theyre gunna meet again and the tension is gunna be so high and they will do the boom boom pow💥🤯😏 without feeling that guilt/weird power dynamic!! 🫶🏼

mimi, you’re so awesome and i love this fic so much. YOUR BRAIN IS SO BEAUTIFUL, MUAH!!!!!!! 💋 you did not disappoint with the make out scene … cuz man if they can get like that on their first kiss … WE ARE NOT READY (i am🤲🏼)!! pls take care of yourself as always and hope you have a lovely day

Hi, anon. I took a break from doing my readings bc this just... this just made me smile and it appeased me (as did a lot of other readers' asks and comments) 🥹🥹 especially considering the other asks claiming how the characters are so dumb and stupid, or that they can just date while OC's in the company or date after she resigns. I would like to copy-paste your first paragraph to everything now hahaha (bc oh god the immense joy of a writer when someone accurately says what I was trying to show is insane and that's what I'm feeling!) 😭😭

Like, you couldn't have said it any better. All those things you mentioned can co-exist, and part of the characters' respective stories is learning that those realities can indeed co-exist. Which is why they're as burdened by their choices as they are (and we'll see more of this in ch12). I'd like for you to park that second paragraph bc... I wrote this entire series with the plan for season 2 so whatever happens at the end of this season, know that more will happen and you kind of raised some points already. 👀👀

And with the boss/asst. thing - YES. The power dynamic goes beyond their roles bc their pasts are intertwined as well. Mr. Ri pointed it out to JK - did he want OC to feel indebted to him, too? There are just so many complications. It's always been about needing to feel free for OC. What that freedom means is something she has yet to explore. Even the question of happiness is something she's figuring out.

BUT THANK YOU, like, really. 🥹🥹 It's always tricky and draining to write super long stories like this bc I need to make sure that the characters and storylines are consistent, and knowing that what I intended comes across (most of the time) is truly worth all the stress of writing this one hahaha I hope you're well and I hope to hear from you and your wonderful mind again! 💕💕💕

#mimianswers #fic: iwyts #let me smooch u anon

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deathbxnny · 11 months

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Hello!! I love your writing so much, the requests people send you are always so specific they're SUCH a joy to read, amplified by your writing!

I was wondering if I could request a fem!reader who's really elegant and princess-like? She paints, plays instruments (mainly the violin and piano), dances ballet. Etc and her behavior just screams Princess. She's polite and patient, understanding and cooperative, kind and gentle. Etc. All that stuff! The characters are Silver Wolf, Kafka, Fu Xuan and Serval!

Stay hydrated and eat well!! I hope you have a lovely day!! <33

-----♡

A/N: Hello there Anon! I'm really glad that you like my work! I also really love your idea, so thank you for the request!<33

Content: Established relationship, fluff, reader has a princess-like personality, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns, but is reffered to as a "princess"!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Fu Xuan

Fu Xuan loved the way you behaved and often praised you for it. You fit perfectly together, as she was quite elegant herself, although she often had more of a temper than you did. But she was proud of being your girlfriend, especially when you were always so kind and talented.

She loves watching you dance and play instruments after a long, tiring day at work. She finds it relaxing and calming, even sometimes agreeing to dance with you. She also displays your artwork practically everywhere, wanting other people to see how great and talented you are.

Fu Xuan will absolutely agree, that you must've been a princess in your past life. She might even use her divination skills to tell if you were or not, as she's just absolutely convinced that you are.

-----♡

》Serval

You and Serval were near complete opposites, which she didn't mind at all. In fact, she absolutely loved it. You were always so kind and elegant, your politeness and soft-spoken words charming everyone around you, especially Serval herself. To say that she's proud of you being her s/o, would be an understatement.

She absolutely loves listening to you playing the Piano and might even play along with her guitar. Creating music with you is her way of relaxing after work and is a good way to bond even deeper. She also displays your paintings in her shop proudly and comes to any of your dance recitals just to watch you in awe.

Sometimes she likes to joke, that you must've been a lost princess of some sort, as someone so naturally perfect couldn't just possibly exist. And if anything, you were her princess anyways.

-----♡

》Kafka

Kafka loved everything about you. In fact, she deemed you as absolutely perfect in every way. You could never do wrong and if anyone claimed you did, then they weren't worthy of life to her. She practically worshipped the ground you walked on and couldn't believe that you were just a simple mortal. There had to be more to you and she was absolutely convinced that there was.

With that said, she supports you and your talents in every way and often obliges, whenever you ask her to join you in any of them. She'll dance with you, paint with you and happily listen to you play the violin, which is her favourite thing ever. She could watch and listen to you for days on end.

She's just so proud and grateful to have a divine and talented s/o like you and will make sure to never let you go either.

-----♡

》Silver Wolf

Silver Wolf acknowledges how talented and perfect you are with a simple nod of her head, before she moves on to show you her newest video game achievement. It's not that she isn't proud or fascinated by you. She's just really very expressive about it and doesn't want you to somehow feel uncomfortable.

With that said, she'll always accompany you everywhere and calmly do her thing somewhere nearby, whilst you paint, dance or play the piano. Sometimes you'll even join her, whenever she asks you to play a video game with her. She purposely loses just to see you happy.

It never really occurs to her, that you are very princess-like, as you are just her lovely s/o to her. But after hearing someone bring it up for the first time, she can't help but agree. You really are too perfect.

-----♡

A/N: Alright, so I hope this is okay! Thank you again for the request and sorry for the wait!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr kafka #hsr kafka x reader #hsr silver wolf #hsr silver wolf x reader #hsr serval #hsr serval x reader #hsr fu xuan #hsr fu xuan x reader #hsr

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antianakin · 11 months

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We're gonna revisit that Caretaker Luke AU again because it brings me a certain amount of joy to think about it when I'm in a bitter mood and I just finished Jedi: Survivor, so I'm incorporating that.

Cal and Merrin DO manage to create a refuge for people persecuted by the Empire on Tanalorr and it never gets found or destroyed, so there's this little community of Force Sensitive people and Jedi survivors (and others) already built by the time the Empire falls.

So when Anakin survives and Luke commits to being Rehab for Sith for the rest of his life in order to keep the New Republic from executing Anakin or locking him up for life, there's somewhere else for Jedi and Force Sensitive people to go.

But no one will even tell Luke the NAME of the planet, much less how to get there. Because it's a known fact that if Luke knows it, so will Anakin. And nobody in their right mind would ever trust Anakin with the location of Force Sensitive children or Jedi survivors, that would be madness and stupidity. So for as long as Luke chooses to protect Anakin, he's completely isolated and cut off from all other Jedi that exist, all of their knowledge and history and training.

And even Leia can't know about it or go get training because she refuses to cut Luke out of her life. So Leia is isolated, too. And so is Han. And so is Ahsoka, because let's be completely honest, Ahsoka would 100% forgive Anakin completely in this scenario and refuse to leave him behind all over again.

Anakin hates this. Anakin's instinct is to hunt down the Hidden Path and find this planet to force them to let Luke be a part of their community or kill them all because, well, it's Anakin and someone he cares about is upset, we all know how he reacts to that. Anakin throws this idea on the table at breakfast one day and Luke has to spend several weeks talking Anakin out of committing yet another Jedi genocide, just this time in Luke's name instead of Padme's.

There is no redemption available for Anakin aside from just leaving the Jedi completely alone for the rest of his life. He can give them the gift of his absence and that is it. Same with the rest of the galaxy, honestly. The best thing he can do for the people he's hurt is get out of their way and disappear forever. Luke forgives him. Ahsoka forgives him. Obi-Wan's ghost probably forgives him.

The Jedi on Tanalorr try their very best to pretend he doesn't exist, but when the news breaks that Anakin's finally died and they're finally free and safe from the Sith, there's an obvious uptick in the general happiness among the refugees of Tanalorr. There aren't any celebrations as such, but some people decide to cook a favorite dish to share among everyone, the children are given some time off of lessons so they can go out and play, and there's just a sense of merriment that wafts through the Temple when the last Sith rejoins the Force.

#star wars #luke skywalker #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #hidden path #tanalorr #jedi survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #caretaker luke au #lol rereading this while it's in my queue and this is a somewhat more bitter take on caretaker luke au #this was clearly written before i decided quinlan came to train luke and helped anakin figure his shit out #i still stand by this post as part of the narrative #luke and leia are isolated from tanalorr and anakin doesn't have a redemption available to him

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izfaish · 24 days

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[go go loser ranger manga spoilers - vol. 6 | ch. 43-42]

SSHSNDJDJDUKSJDHS

i don't even know if i can be coherent here odjdjfjf

what a way to start the volume. GOD i love the internal struggle. the imaginary dream sequence. the way it almost mirrors the meal scene with the dragon keepers, with peltrola coming in and killing that chef the way akabane killed his jfc. it's nit a 1-to-1 comparison but it just reminded me of that same old rottenness. and the fact that sakurama is d's conscience so to speak... oufjfjfjfj

it makes sense that d would resolve to get rid of both the dragons keepers AND the executives. to him, they're the same. it is heartwarming to see him regard his cadet buddies as special, so much so that d is unsettled by the idea that HE would hold such power over them. the same power and authority that he despises from the dragon keepers and executives.

HIS EYES. HE HAS THE UNSETTLING SPARKLES! NO D YOU'RE FALLING INTO THE TRAP!!

ok i just wanted to say that this made me laugh. like first nadeshiko's panacea thing was funny and then suzukiri pulls out a tv remote like HELLO????

i love d standing up for himself like this but i can also see the slippery slope of becoming like the executives... getting what you want and forcing that onto others... i wouldn't be surprised if d one day becomes an executive and has to grapple with that. hell, maybe in the later chapters he becomes a dragon keeper AND executive... damn.

i will say, peltrola is an interesting antagonist. someone so holier-than-thou who sees themselves as a god,,, an interesting match-up to the dragon keepers' divine sense of authority, what with their divine dragon tools.

okay i did not like blue keeper when he was introduced, but i think that's normal. i still don't like him but i do find him a lot more interesting and i appreciate his sense of self-awareness. living your life knowing you toe the line between good and evil, never committing fully to one, and feeling that your resolve wavers because of it... like damn. you did not deserve to die. you deserved to live and commit to doing better. death isn't redemption, it's just a tragedy. speaking of..

holy hell. the way d's murder of blue keeper was actually horrifying. just... the juxtaposition between d achieving his goal but feeling empty with loss anyway just hit so hard.

also (backtracking a bit) lil hibiki and tokita!!!!!! would not be surprised if tokita modeled his look after aogama. also aoyome and aogama's relationship is sweet. i like how she sees the best in him even if the worst of him shouldn't be ignored or excused.

OKAY i didn't realize there's an image limit so here's my other fav panels:

;u; xx,,,, they're both just trying to carve meaning out of their existence (that backstory into d was also just... ough. there's,,, probably parallels there with blue keeper. raised to be a shield, a scapegoat, a loser... god...

THE WAY I INTERNALLY SCREAMED. I'M SO HAPPY WAAAAAAAA

the fav is alive i am JUMPING FOR JOY

NO IDEA if koguma will be like,,, a friend or ally. or used as bait or get hurt again,,, leave him alone pls. also rip sojiro, you were a real one. really symbolic that the oldest veteran cadet of them there died, kinda symbolizes the passing of a baton... damn. rest in peace.

also - suzukiri! achieved her goal once more. she's so so interesting. i wonder what sakurama is up to...

okay look. i like sesera a lot but her thing with sakurama is NOT IT DNDMFNND. i know it's a trope but the fcking body pillow was so weird, like cmon. i still like her though, she's my fav of the dragon keepers. that,, might change going forward im not sure. i do like,,, sharks,, green keeper arc is next? shark teeth a+ design heeeee.

ONTO VOLUME 7 WAHOOOO

#go go loser ranger #go go loser ranger manga spoilers #go go loser ranger spoilers #sentai daishikkaku #review

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totentnz · 3 months

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@silverv-week day 2 // amusement park

set in: au: everybody wants to rule the world // a little present for @bishicat :3c

it was johnny's birthday, his first birthday since getting his body back in fact and he had spent the last week trying to figure out what his girlfriend had planned for him - no luck though, she was too sneaky.

"happy birthday!" she was smiling from ear to ear, it was almost as if she liked this day more than he did. it was cute really, to see her this happy and it was the best present he could ask for.

she cupped his face with her hands and pulled him into a kiss, a kiss filled with love and excitement. "so are you 90 now? or 35?" she teased him and rubbed her nose against his, her hands still placed on the sides of his head.

he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "dunno. what would ya prefer?" he asked as he tried to wriggle out of her grip, she allowed it, to press a kiss to her neck.

she grumbled and moved one of her hands to the back of his head, caressing the skin and playing with his hair. "what are you doing?" she asked and johnny kissed his way down her neck while pulling the fabric of the shirt off her shoulder to reveal more skin for him to kiss. he didnt dignify this question with words but instead slipped his left hand underneath her shirt and to the small of her back to pull her closer. another hum escaped her and he smiled against the soft skin of her neck, dragging his teeth across before biting down softly.

"we got a busy day ahead of us." she tilted her head to look down at him but he wanted more, wanted to taste her again and again, make her moan and gush and blush, spend this special day in bed with her, fucking and cuddling until the sun went down.

johnny felt the quickness of her heartbeat, the slight raise in her bodytemperature and he could swear he smelled her arousal already but all these signs only made her rejection worse. "really? no birthday sex?" he moved his hand down, running his thumb in circles on her hippbone.

"didn't say that." she took a step away from him and moved to put the counter between them. it was moments like these when johnny missed their old connection, he didnt know if he upset her in some way or if the flame between them was already dying out. he picked up his coffee cup, he needed something to hold onto.

he watched her add sugar and synthmilk to her own mug and as though she could still read his thoughts she assured him. "i would love to right now but we got a tight schedule." she grinned at him over the rim of her mug and he nodded. they were more than sex and while this was his day he was happy to indulge her - though his cock thought differently right now.

"so, whats on the agenda?" he asked and took a big sip from his coffee.

"weeeeell," she said in a sing song voice. "remember that rollercoaster we went on?"

"yeah. you repaired it." he raised an eyebrow. the rollercoaster? out of all the places in night city he didnt expect her to take him there. sure, they had shared a few memories in that place but it was plain weird.

"you will find out the rest later." she smiled again, that infectious smile he loved so much about her. that was one of the things that made him glad they no longer shared a body; back then he was unable to see her smile but now it was one of his favourite things and he knew that he was the source of it. finally, after 90 years of existence he made someone happy, genuinely happy and it filled him with joy too.

"we should check on that fortune teller, wanna see if its still spewing that crap."

they went out for breakfast first, then drove to pacifica. sadly the rollercoaster was completely out of order now and the fortune teller was fixed as well.

viv gave the screen a good kick and then turned to him in defeat. "i'm sorry."

he pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled. "it's fine." flinging his arm around her, he pulled her close. "been gone long enough, i'm sure they are ready." he had finally figured it out, it was pretty obvious thinking about it now.

"-- what?" she looked up at him in shock.

"c'mon babe, oldest trick in the book. ya get me outta the apartment so they can set up the party."

#sammy says shit #sammy writes shit #au: everybody wants to rule the world #silvervweek #lemme tell you bestie the amount of times i had to hold back asking you about details smh #i hope you enjoy :3c #will the party be a disaster? i wanna say yes but he deserves a nice one

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leoruby-draws · 2 months

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hello hello hello

i just want to say i love your little drawings so much they're adorable and so full of life and everything feels exciting in them and i love how you draw and make really fun stuff for many of the minor characters, you're doing such a good job with them and it gives me so much joyy

Hi Hi Hi

Thanks for liking my stuff! Happy to bring you joy, drawing these brings me joy!

Also its fun to get into and draw minor characters because their reading lists are super short lol! But I like to give a little love to characters that most people might not know about, in fact here's some random drawings that I had in the back-burner for the past year! Never could find a chance to just post them:

Here's a cute drawing of Cyclone, Maxine Hunkle! Wanted to give her a cute costume makeover. Kinda has a magical girl look to it huh? Took a bit of inspiration from Ojamajo Doremi, but also she's meant to resemble Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz! Both the princess and the witch. I have a bit of idea of what I'm going do with her, but that's for later.

Got a drawing of Gan, Jason's friend from the Knight White books. Not sure if she exist in my Training Wheels au, but I like her a lot. Her rapport with Jason was fun to read.

Here it looks like the Outlaws are trying to recruit new members, from the Relative Heroes group, Damara Sinclaire (Allure) and Tyson Gilford (Blindside). They're not likely to join, preferring to stick with their own group. Just as well since Damara's powers might make things a rather chaotic, she doesn't need that drama in her life lol. Tho I like the thought of Tyson helping out now and then, his invisibility would be pretty useful.

Here's some random assortment of heroes, Ray Terrill the...Ray. Amethyst, tho top pic is uncolored (im lazy) but theres a Sailor Amethyst to make up for that.

There's the first Green Lantern (Alan Scott) with his kids,Jade (Jennifer Lynn Hayden) and Obsidian (Todd James Rice). Wonder why their babies here, de-aging mishap?

Jason and Toni gossip about their fellow teammates, and down below Jason decides to annoy a young Kyle Rayner. A universal constant!

Todd can't help but join in!

Also some cute father-son bonding! I sent this to someone else earlier, so imma just stick here too.

For a really minor character, here's Jay, Eddie and Rose meeting up with a very strange new friend!

And lastly here are the Metal Men, or should I say the mini-Metal Men. Read some comics about them, including a bit of silver age as well (they get destroyed pretty often, kinda funny ngl). I thought about what kinda sidekicks they could have, but I didn't want to look up metals or learn about metallurgy or chemistry or whatever. So I just made them smaller, its just temporary though, aren't they cute? Look at poor Copper, she just wants to join in!

Anyways, hope that wasn't too much, tagging all of this is gonna suck.

Sorry I haven't been posting, due to Tumblr being a pile of shit and trying give our stuff to ai websites. So I thought I would download nightshade and glaze, but that didn't work out at all (I got a new laptop but it still wont render for me at all). So I'm just gonna hope my opt-out in the settings will be enough for now. Sigh!

Hope you like all this anon, might be a while til I post again. Later!

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 7 months

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I'm watching The Two Towers while I scroll, and all the romantic & angsty Arwen scenes (especially the ones that seem as dreams) have me in a soft, longing, romantic mood. So, here's some romantic Stephen Strange from an old WIP. Mayhap someone out in tumblrland might find it pleasing. From chapter fifteen of...

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight...

...wherein Stephen goes to sleep longing for his woman, detained for now far across the galaxy ~ and her own longing for him is enough for them to meet somewhere in a dream...

(contains some mature content, although not explicit)

Finally, Stephen slept; he’d gone nearly seventy-two hours without a wink of sleep, so that his head had barely touched the pillow, and he was out like a light, falling swiftly and deeply, exactly as the needs of his body dictated. Likely he dreamed throughout those many hours--as the dusk outside the New York Sanctum changed first to the deep dark of the night, and then to rosy dawn, and finally to mid-day--but he did not remember them upon waking. Only one stayed with him, and he wasn’t even certain it was a true dream--for when he awoke from it, it had seemed so vital, so true to life (and to his heart’s desires) that he wished it was reality.

In this dream—or vision…or perhaps it was a sending from the mind and heart of his woman, who remained upon her impossibly distant world—he stood in the midst of the grove of keyanna trees which she had shown him before he took his leave of her. Their fragrance was as lovely as he had remembered, surrounding him as the gentlest of breezes whispered against his upturned face and through the errant locks of hair that hung perpetually upon his brow. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the trees perfume, and feeling the warmth of an alien sun kiss his face. It was good, so very good; a pause from his responsibilities and cares, a welcome respite from the burdens that he bore—not that he ever complained aloud, but some days…well, some days he wished for just a few hours without the worry that came along with being a Sanctum Master, and the constant knowing of the countless threats that existed to humanity, in all its blissful ignorance.

How relaxed he felt, how at peace, thinking this was as close to a vacation that he’d likely get in a very, very long time. He wasn’t even wearing his usual tunic and breeches; just the same sort of casual attire he adopted on the nights when he and Teyla stole what time they could with one another, away from the confines of compound and sanctum. It occurred to him that the moment lacked only one thing—the most important thing—the one thing that was the most crucial of all to his happiness.

As if summoned by that thought alone, Teyla called out his name; Stephen smiled, hearing her as much in his mind and heart as with his ears--as he so often did these days. He opened his eyes to look for her, and saw her approaching from a distance, with a dreamlike grace that made his knees weak. The bright sunlight streamed through the flower-laden branches, painting her skin with a soft, healthy glow; the wind stirred the trees gently, wafting the pale lavender petals around her, leaving some to be caught in her unbound hair. Stephen covered his heart with his right hand; it felt so full of love and joy at the vision of his sweet woman that it seemed like it might burst, if he allowed it to.

Clad in a pale blue shift that was gathered beneath her breasts and fell in soft ripples mid-calf, Teyla walked barefoot through the drifts of fallen keyanna blossoms. Her eyes were set upon him, and she was smiling a beckoning smile, pure with her love for him, as she held out her arms to motion him closer. “Stephen… Beloved,” she called to him, like a perfect piece of music meant for his ears alone, and as an irresistible whisper in his mind. “This is the place, my Beloved; the place where I would lay with thee, beneath the bright sun, beneath the sister-moons and diamond-stars.” Stephen swallowed hard, awe-struck, love-struck, feeling her quiet beauty in his blood, recognizing his weakness for her, and happy that of all the souls in the cosmos, she was the one that had claimed his heart. “This, Stephen; this is the place where I would gladly give myself to thee.”

His dream-self recognized with a soft pang of regret that she had meant it to be the place, and thus was surely no small part of the reason that Teyla had brought him to the grove, so vividly awash in Nonya’s beneficent light. Once there, she had revealed that she’d dreamed of them together in this place; dreams in which they lay together skin-on-skin. And swept up in that longing, she had then shown him her desire.

As he pondered the meaning of his vision—astounded at how real it felt--Teyla closed the distance between them easily, and stood before him, soft and sweet and oh so willing. Why, Stephen could taste her willingness on the very breeze that caressed his skin, feel it in the way the sunlight danced through the keyanna leaves, hear it in the rapid beating of his heart. She smiled serenely, and with perfect understanding of everything he was feeling—including his suspicion that something, or someone, might prevent her from returning to Earth—she whispered his name as she draped her arms around his neck. “Dismiss that fear, Beloved, for I will return to thee—no force in the universe can keep me from your side for long.” Teyla rose up on her toes—as she so often needed to do when she faced him in the flesh--to reach his lips and kiss him tenderly.

“Of course; how could I think otherwise?” he answered, relief flooding his veins--finding her dream-form substantial enough to embrace; not the mist of some sweet reverie, but the real woman whom he ached for with every breath he drew. “Am I dreaming this, or are we somehow here together?”

“We are together, my love, in a realm somewhere between dreams and waking.” How wise she was, how patient and loving; his Teyla, his beloved one, and in that moment he knew he’d be willing to sell his soul to have her be his forever. “Oh, my love, my Stephen—know you not that I already am?” Her smile dazzled him, as he accepted the knowledge from her mind to his, that come what may, her heart had chosen him, had committed to him eternally as was the ancient way of her people; only later, as he considered his dream-vision upon waking, did he realize that Teyla’s mother had bonded in the same way with Walter Charles--which had to account for much of the beauty in his creations featuring her.

“Yes. My sweet Teyla,” he smiled, drawing her against him, patient enough for the future that awaited them together. He let his face hover over hers, drinking in the purity of the love and trust reflected in her eyes, and letting it fill him to the brim, refreshing him as no twelve-hour sleep ever could. He took her offered lips with his, slowly and softly to begin with, tasting all that she promised, her devotion, her desire. Tasting all that she offered him; a lifetime spent at his side as lover and helpmate; as his ‘better half’ in the parlance of Earth. Stephen had never desired such a profound connection to another soul in his old life—but now, it seemed essential not only to his existence, but to the accomplishment of his mystical purpose.

When he broke from their kiss, Teyla sighed against his lips, then buried her face against his neck, breathing him in, humming contentedly. “What comes next, honey?” Stephen stroked her hair, soothing himself as much as he did her, “How long do you think it will take until can rejoin me on Earth?”

She sighed hard this time, delivering regretful news, “I cannot say with certainty, Beloved. To fulfill my obligation, and for the sake of my people, it may be several days.” Teyla hesitated briefly, before quietly admitting that Moraine might present a further obstacle to her departure from Hadeeth. “She will use every entreaty at her disposal to keep me close—but I will show her, Stephen—I will show her that I know my own mind and heart, and that I will not be dissuaded from the course I have chosen.” She spoke gently, but with full conviction against his ear, “The course that you and I have chosen together.”

Despite her avowal, Stephen wanted to hold onto her tighter than ever—but strangely, he began to feel their embrace weakening. Teyla answered before he could ask. “I will be called to Council chambers shortly. I regret I must turn my focus from thee now.” She backed out of his arms just enough to face him squarely, “And you, my love, must rest yourself, return to your world, and focus on the duties that await you.” She kissed him once more, and faced him with a knowing smile, before brushing her fingertips from the edge of his hairline to between his eyebrows, tracing a wee circle there. His sight began to dim, as true sleep overtook him, and as he exhaled his exhaustion, he fell away from her arms.

Upon awakening—and after mulling over his dream-vision, wishing with heartfelt immediacy to find his way back to the keyanna grove--Stephen’s first impulse was to check the Sanctum library for any texts that might explain his extraordinary experience. It had been far too real to be the mere fantasy of a man missing his lover, every sensory detail vivid enough that it seemed he could still taste Teyla’s kisses on his tongue and feel her tender caress against his cheek, while he swore that his room retained traces of scent from the keyanna trees. But as ever, his needs and wants were secondary to his duties, forcing him to set that quest aside until far later in the day.

Instead, he made his first order of business sending messages along to Wong and Master Salma, explaining Teyla’s absence from Kamar-Taj, and that he could not give them a timeframe for how long she might be detained upon Hadeeth. Though she had assured him in his dream that she would return, Stephen was left to wait—just as they were--with no clear idea of when to expect her.

His daily duties kept Stephen busy for a good part of the afternoon and early evening, so that he didn’t see himself clear to visit the library until after wolfing down a late supper. Fortunately, his gift of eidetic memory was crucial to his research, and in less than a couple of hours, he thought he had answers enough to understand what he’d experienced.

Lucid dreaming. That seemed to be the closest explanation for what had happened. Certainly Teyla had initiated it, across the immeasurable distances between them, enabled by her empathic gifts to reach out to him in spirit as he never could have imagined possible. In his studies since his first day at Kamar-Taj, and through a multitude of experiences since becoming a Master, Stephen had learned how powerful pure thought could be, capable of bridging time and vast distances beyond even the speed of light. But he had never imagined it affecting him so personally, so intimately. And now that he knew it was possible, he hoped he might reach out to Teyla in return.

Each night that followed, he settled into bed, relaxed enough from meditation to practice the techniques he had studied, his mind and heart focused on reaching her, spirit to spirit. But each night, to his disappointment, sleep took him before he even came close to succeeding.

By the fourth morning, Stephen’s exasperation with such failures—coupled with frustration that their separation seemed to be stretching on indefinitely—left him irritable, to carry out his responsibilities perfunctorily, while being uncharacteristically curt with those around him. Watching over the multiverse from his privileged vantage point of the Window of the World, he was tempted for the first time to use that auspicious tool for his own benefit, to hone in on Hadeeth and discover how Teyla was faring, and if indeed there was any hope she’d be free to return to Earth soon. Wisely, Stephen denied himself that urge, knowing that the use of magic for such a selfish purpose would ultimately rebound bitterly upon the user, and sometimes even exact unanticipated collateral damage.

On day five, his concern for her welfare far surpassed his need to have her at his side, as he imagined Moraine holding her daughter hostage of sorts, believing she was doing a mother’s service to a misguided child’s heart. Intellectually he knew it couldn’t be so, but the tender heart Teyla had awakened within him worried all the same. Even knowing that he might cause damage to Earth’s alliance with Hadeeth by acting rashly, Stephen had to tap into a lifetime habit of discipline—the selfsame that had forged his brilliant path to medical supremacy--to resist conjuring a portal directly to the People’s Citadel, or to the homey little cottage which Teyla called home. This fifth day, as he went about a Master’s tasks and continued his perpetual watch for threats against humanity--all while waiting for the night to come again--felt like the longest in his memory.

Exhausted in spirit and low on optimism Stephen took to his bed, thoughts of Teyla fixed in his mind’s eye, sending everything he felt for her out into the universe. Not trying to force his way to achieve his aim, and expecting nothing from the universe in return. And perhaps that was the simple, missing element needed to span the realities that lay between them.

His dream-self opened his eyes, and she was finally there before him, making his doubts and concerns evaporate like thin wisps of mist by day’s new light. They stood in a moonlit meadow, surrounded by Teyla’s talat akeylum, countless fragrant blossoms fully opened and nodding almost imperceptibly in the light breeze. The night was deep around them, filled with the lulling nighttime sounds of whatever small Hadeethan creatures and insects called the meadow home. The three moons rode high and brightly in the sky, one full, one half, and one a silvery crescent, their combined light painting the scene with lovely clarity—though that loveliness paled for him, as his eyes drank in the bewitching sight of his woman, the most exquisite blossom of them all. His Teyla.

For a moment, Stephen forgot how to breathe, overcome with awe, his heart beating like a trip-hammer in his chest. Even clad in the simple homespun robe she had worn at their first meeting, her hair piled up in a loose bun once again, Teyla stole his ability to reason. “Oh god,” he whispered, memorizing the details of her face as though he’d hadn’t already committed them to memory dozens of time; he breathed hard to keep his voice from breaking with emotion, “I miss you so much, honey…it feels like years since I’ve touched you…held you. Why haven’t you returned to me?”

She smiled and gave a little sigh before she answered. “My love--though I tarry here, all my soul is bent upon returning to your side. To your arms.” She stepped into him, and though Stephen knew they met in a realm of dreams, of spirit, the sweet, familiar scent of her hair and skin filled each breath he drew, putting to shame the fragrance of the moon blossoms around them. He wanted to taste her scent on his tongue, wear it on his skin, embed it in his very cells. “Stephen…Beloved…our time draws near, and I swear that your patience with me will find true fruition.” She lowered her lashes as she moved in to brush her lips on his, laying both hands against his chest.

How blessedly real it felt—and how he ached for more! He took her face in his hands, kissing her soundly, sinking into the dream as deeply as he could. The silk of her tongue against his, the little sounds she made in reply to his bold advances, the press of her body against him blessedly, sinfully real.

Soon enough, he had loosed the knot on the neck of her robe and tucked his fingers beneath the material to slide it from her shoulders. Teyla lowered her arms and shimmied the cloth away, leaving her robe to hang loose around her waist, laying her torso bare to him. Stephen nearly growled, grown desperate with hunger, grown rougher than he meant to be, raining fierce kisses on her dainty neck and slim shoulders, relishing her surprised gasps and how readily she yielded herself to his raw need.

He planted one hand against the small of her back, trapping Teyla against him, while she wove her fingers in his hair, purring deep in her throat when he cupped her breast in his free hand. He was certain the fury of his kisses had to be bruising her tender flesh, but she offered no complaint; she began to kiss his neck instead, her lips ever soft but insistent. She drifted one hand down to slide beneath the sleeve of his tee shirt, massaging his flesh firmly and surprising him when she murmured against his hair, “Please, Stephen…let me feel your skin against mine…I need to feel you…I need… you…”

He released her for only as long as it took to pull his shirt over his head, greedy to have her softness against him at last, no longer questioning how she could feel so real in his arms, nor how this dream, not-a-dream, surpassed any erotic dream he had ever had.

He pulled her to him, losing himself in the heated press of her naked flesh against his, in the divine sensation of her flawless little breasts rubbing against his chest, her tightened nipples evidencing her desire for him. Teyla moaned and let her head fall back as Stephen laid open mouthed kisses upon her throat, tasting the salt of her skin upon his tongue. She shuddered his name, sliding her arms beneath his to grip his shoulders, becoming her softest self, softly pliant as he lowered her onto a bed of moon blossoms.

He paused, hovering over her, mesmerized by her half-lidded eyes, her sweet parted lips, the quickened pant of her breath, nearly convinced that he had somehow transported bodily to her, and that Teyla lay beneath him at last, and for real. “I would I were, Beloved,” she told him, her smile bittersweet and piercing his heart, “I would couple with thee now, have you sate yourself inside of me…” Stephen took her welcoming mouth with his, a frisson of lust hastening through his blood when she slowly traced her tongue along the inner edge of his lips. The small part of his brain that remained rational, that knew this encounter was closer to dream than truth, was clouded by his desperate desire to know Teyla in every possible way.

“So beautiful, so perfect,” he panted as he kissed a path down her neck to her sternum, while she arched into his hands, whimpering softly at the greedy insistence of his grasp, and crying out when he circled her areola with the tip of his tongue, then tickled the stiff bud of her nipple before drawing it into his mouth. Teyla laid one palm on his cheek, and anchored her other hand in his hair, encouraging his play to continue.

He felt her beneath him as fully substantial; she moved against him as he touched her, arched into his caresses as lovers do, and he wondered how far they might actually go in this dream-like state—and if it was fair to Teyla to do so. She was touching him now as she never had before, sweeping her hands across his bare skin, sparking every nerve of his body with the ache to sink himself inside her. Stephen groaned hard, impatiently grinding his hips into hers, the thin material of his pajama bottoms unable to conceal his lust. Frustrated as much by the layers of cloth between them as by the knowledge of the actual physical distance separating them, he exclaimed shamelessly, “I want you…all of you…so badly, baby,” then licked his lips, craving her every flavor.

“I know, my love,” she assured him, “Even in my sleep, I have felt you wanting me, as far away as you are—and as I have longed for thee as well.”

Wanting her to comprehend the depth of his hunger, of his keen thirst for her, he raised his head enough to look into her eyes. “Teyla, my darling…my dear one...this is so much more than physical.” He read eager, equal desire in her soft, dark eyes. “I need you, honey. I need your presence. Need you at my side, filling my days with your patience and kindness…filling my heart with…with the wonder of your love.”

She nodded in quiet understanding, drawing his face close, and kissing him tenderly, “Even so, Stephen; you have become the cool shadow wherein I find my soul’s ease.” She murmured against his lips, “I shall have no peace of mind, no rest until I am with thee again.”

She drew his tongue into her mouth, giving such patient, gentle suction that the sensation surged through his solar plexus, his loins, his throbbing erection. Stephen grunted into her mouth, concentrating on stilling himself, fighting the urge to come—knowing that Teyla, in her innocence, was likely unaware of the power she held over him.

He rolled to her side, pulling her along with him, allowing some small space between them as they lay face to face, space enough for him to catch his breath and to restore his reason. Teyla blinked open her eyes, the trust there unwavering, silently signaling she would follow his lead wherever he wished. Stephen kissed her brow, as she snuggled against him, the raging of his blood receding a bit as he traced small, soothing circles along her cheek and the side of her neck. When he had calmed a bit more, he trusted himself to speak. “When, honey?” He sounded exhausted to his own ears, worn and ready for the oblivion of sleep. “When will you return to me, Teyla? Give me some hope I can hold you…and love you…for real, sometime soon.”

She was silent a moment, considering the most honest way to answer him. “No more than two days, Beloved. I have submitted to the repeated questioning of the Council, and they have gleaned all they can from my vision.” She did not mention that Moraine had applied what pressure she could to keep her on Hadeeth, but Stephen felt the truth from her nevertheless. “I am certain there is no more that I can do to provide for the safety of my people.” She moved in to kiss his jaw, unable to resist that smallest affection, while pressing one warm, soft hand against his chest. “I shall leave it to their wisdom, and follow my heart back to its home.” Her voice quavered, and Stephen knew that she was staving off tears for his sake. Teyla slid her hand to rest over his heart, adding softly, “Here, my love, is my heart’s true home. I will not be fully myself until you hold me in your strong, loving arms.”

He threaded his fingers in her hair, kissing her brow, feeling himself start to fade from her side, “I don’t want to leave you yet,” he whispered, “I’d just be happy to sleep here with you in my arms.”

“I know,” she sniffled, moving her hand into his hair as well, preparing to kiss him farewell, “But you are weary, Stephen, and cannot hold this form much longer. I have not the strength to hold you here myself, though I would if I could—believe me, love, I would!” Her kiss was pure and powerful, and sent visions into his mind of all the sweetness that they would share once she returned to Earth.

A few stolen minutes more was all they had, and Stephen—his blood fully cooled--held her chastely, exchanging quiet kisses and reassurances of what the near future held for them. Though he could feel himself withdrawing slowly from their shared dream as a sort of numbness overtook him, Stephen was surprised that Teyla faded away completely before he did—perhaps because the brunt of sustaining their connection had fallen upon her, and drained her more vitally. But she managed in those final moments, to charge him with preparing a special place for them, a bower that might suit a hungry suitor and his willing, waiting lover. Still caught halfway between the dream-world, and his own reality, Stephen rolled onto his back, watching wisps of clouds pass across the full moon, breathing deep the sweetness of the talat akeylum—and as sleep finally stole him completely back to his body on Earth, he began to imagine what sort of place might be worthy of the sweet gift that was Teyla’s promise to him.

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@mousedetective

Not tagging anyone else today - simply offering this to anyone longing for taste of Romance.

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