#lovers and massacres... what more can you ask for on valentine's day... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

actuallysaiyan · 3 months

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hii, about Valentine's Day request, I would like to ask one with Itachi NSFW plss: Itachi is making some chocolates for his loved one (Reader) on Valentine’s Day!

warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, use of aphrodisiac, Non-massacre AU word count: 1.1k pairings: Itachi Uchiha x Fem!Reader summary: Itachi intends to spoil you all day, but when he sees the way you react to the aphrodisiac, he knows he's going to have to take advantage.

Itachi knows he doesn’t have too much time before you return home from the spa he sent you to. He thought that you’d enjoy the day to be pampered. The two of you lead very intense lives. Even just both getting this day off together is a rarity. But he pulled some strings to be able to have this special day with you. He knew he’d have to make it extra special since it’s been a long time since you had a good day off together.

He’s in the kitchen, following the recipe to a T. Shisui had been the one to mention making chocolate. It was a cliche and old fashion tradition for loved ones to give each other chocolate for Valentine’s day, so him making some for you ought to give him a few extra points on top of the other gifts. He stirs the chocolate, and then he reaches over for the heart-shaped molds.

When you return from the spa, your whole body feels like it’s glowing. You haven’t felt so relaxed in what feels like ages. The smell of chocolate fills your senses as you walk inside the house. Itachi has his back to you, his apron hangs low on his hips. He seems so preoccupied by making this treat for you that he doesn’t even register that you’re coming in through the door. Slowly, you make your way over to him and wrap your arms around him. This startles him only just a little, but he sighs contentedly when he feels you nuzzling your face in his back.

“Welcome back, little dove.” He murmurs softly. He’s now pouring the chocolate into the molds. “Did you have a good time at the spa?”

You nod your head against him, “It was so divine.”

He can smell expensive lotion on you. You must feel like a million ryō. When he turns around after pouring all the chocolate into the molds, he can see such a relaxed smile on your face. It warms his heart to see you this happy. He doesn’t remember the last time either of you were this relaxed. With him being in the ANBU and you being a jounin sensei, it was much too tough to even have a moment of relaxing.

“What have you got there?” you ask, a coy smile on your face.

Itachi smirks, “Chocolates. Specifically for you.”

He shows you the ones he had finished earlier today. They were solid and finished. They looked so delectable, the kind of thing you’d find in a specialty bakery. The smell lingers in the air too, giving the room a romantic aspect to it. Itachi plucks one of the chocolates from the box and he brings it closer to your lips. You look up into his eyes as he gently places the chocolate on your tongue.

“Tell me exactly what you like about it.”

You close your mouth around the candy. It’s sweet and rich. The chocolate begins melting almost immediately between your lips. It’s got something crunchy inside too, which you identify as almonds. It’s so delectable and you can’t help but salivate just a little as you finish eating the chocolate. It tastes even better since it was made with love.

“It’s so tasty. So rich…crunchy in all the right ways.”

He plucks another one from the box, this one has a bit of red coloring on it. You eye it carefully, and he then brings it to your lips again. You open your mouth, and this time your tongue caresses the tips of your lover’s fingers. He gasps softly, but pulls away to allow you the chance to taste this confectionery.

“It’s…cherry.” You say, a look of happiness in your eyes. “So good!”

This makes Itachi happy. He plucks one last chocolate from the box, this one has white coloring on it. It’s a special one, one he’s filled with an aphrodisiac in it. He then slips it between your waiting lips, your tongue caressing his fingers once more.

The minute you taste the vanilla in this chocolate, you feel your heart racing. Your legs part slightly as Itachi leans in to kiss you. He towers over you in the best way possible, and his lips are soft and smooth against yours. Then you let out a pleasured gasp as he pins your wrists above your head.

“Now that I have you all to myself,” he breathes between kisses.” I think it’s time we indulge in a sweet all of our own.”

You blink a few times, making sure you heard him correctly. It is valentine’s day after all, you knew he’d have something like this planned for the both of you. But it’s always such long stretches between you and him being able to be intimate. You’re almost already soaked in your panties just from the idea of being able to have your lover all to yourself right now.

“I see that look in your eyes,” Itachi presses another kiss to your lips. “You’re aroused.”

You can’t even hide it. Your skin is warm to the touch and your eyes are half-lidded. You cant your hips forward, desperate for a bit more friction. This aphrodisiac was beginning to work its way through your system a little quicker than Itachi had even anticipated. It was truly sexy to watch you succumb to its power. He always loves seeing you while in the throes of pleasure.

“Get in the bedroom, head down and ass up.”

You swallow hard at his lewd words but you do not make him repeat them. You begin scurrying off to the bedroom, your excitement growing with each step. You enter the bedroom, noticing that the sheets have been changed and there is ambient lighting in here. You strip your clothes, rushing to get in the position Itachi wants you in.

He chuckles darkly when he sees you on the bed, in the exact position he demanded of you. You wiggle your ass, desperate to feel him deep inside you. He crawls on the bed, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. Then you whine as you feel his large hands spreading your ass cheeks. He laughs softly when he sees just how wet you are.

“Pretty girl,” he says as he allows one of his fingers to spread your folds. “You were needing me just as badly as I needed you.”

This makes you moan, backing your ass up towards him. He snickers to himself once more before allowing one of his fingers to slide deep into your heat. His cock twitches at the feeling of how wet and hot you are. All this from this aphrodisiac and the knowledge that you’ll get the whole day to indulge in such pleasurable acts with your lover.

‘I could just eat you up, sweetheart.”

Itachi then leans in to breathe in your sweet scent. His tongue replaces his finger, dipping so deep into your weeping hole. He’s going to get himself drunk off your essence. And he has no regrets about that. Not even one.

#bacon.writes #itachi x you #itachi x reader #itachi smut #itachi x y/n #Uchiha itachi x reader #Uchiha Itachi x you #Itachi Uchiha x you #Itachi Uchiha x reader #Itachi Uchiha smut #naruto #Naruto shippuden #valentine's day 2024

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vexicwrites · 2 years

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There's Danger in Your Eyes, Cherie - Part 1

Summary: "I distrust Jason Todd the second he steps into my office asking me to work a case. I lose a little respect for him when he calls me 'doll.' But I must admit, I'm intrigued when he dangles prospective payment for my involvement—a chance to corner the elusive and deadly vigilante stalking our city. The Red Hood. Everyone's talking about him, but no one's had the moxie to track him down to put a stop to his rampage. Until now. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to take him out. I just have to find Frances Seaborn's obsessed ex-lover and give him a talking to, at gunpoint if necessary. But when Frances goes missing, things take a twisted turn, leading me down a back alley darker than I could have ever imagined. As it turns out, Red Hood is the least of my worries."

Part 2 here

Pairing: Jason Todd x Detective Reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: 1930s mob activity mentioned, no explicit violence yet

Tags: @nightwings-circus

Inspired by @gangrenados and a lovely discord chat

Gotham City, April, 1930.

The sky here was always cloudy, I considered it a good day if it wasn't pouring rain. The clouds were particularly thick and low on the day in question. I'd decided to take on a bit of a personal case, so I was headed into my office despite the fog making it near impossible to see the sidewalk.

My usual clients were the ones the police wouldn't take; battered women they didn't believe and young girls and boys who'd had unfortunate run-ins with unsavory types. I used to pass the more gruesome details along to some contacts with a more relaxed moral code. That all went belly-up a year ago with the worst massacre the country had ever seen, on Saint Valentine's Day no less. After that, I'd been a bit more hesitant to work with that particular crowd. Still, I felt it was important to find the mysterious Red Hood. Maybe it was just my bull-headed determination to beat the GCPD to him. Maybe it was something else.

The current consensus was that the Red Hood was ruthless and killed indiscriminately. There were rumors he was a lunatic who carried around human heads in a bag. I didn't buy it. I had clients come in fairly regularly and tell me the Red Hood had gotten rid of their abusers himself. When I'd looked deeper into it, I hadn't been able to find one innocent man on his blacklist.

That didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, but it did make me feel a bit more at ease with the idea of finding him. Call me crazy but I felt like he might even be a decent fellow. If you could overlook murder, anyway.

I'd barely sat at my desk when I heard a knock on the door. The frosted glass didn't allow me to see who was there clearly but I could tell it was a man. This immediately set me on edge. The only men who trusted me to do my job were my father and the mob. I told him to come in anyway, against my better judgment.

The man introduced himself with a thick Jersey accent as Jason Todd. The name sounded vaguely familiar, like maybe I'd read it in the paper, but then Jason wasn't exactly a unique name. He was built strong and tall but his face looked young, perhaps early twenties. Then again, his short black hair had a white streak so maybe he was older and just had a babyface. He didn't behave like the goons I usually dealt with. He seemed polite, even took his coat and hat off before taking the seat I offered, though his sleeves were rolled to his elbows instead of buttoned neatly at his wrists. He had a cocky sort of grin but then what twenty-something man wasn't a bit cocky?

"What can I do for you, Mr. Todd?" I said, leaning back in my chair.

It squeaked, undercutting the cool, unaffected air I'd been trying to cultivate. Most men expected me to be wringing my hands at the thought of trouble, so casual was the way to put them off their game. I prayed he hadn't heard it. This entire interaction was already so uncomfortably off-script that I was in danger of squirming.

"Call me Jason," he said, lips curling up in a knowing grin. He'd heard it. Damn him. "Word travels fast in this city, you know. I couldn't help but overhear you've been looking for a certain outlaw."

"I might be. Am I to take it you're here to help me instead of asking for my help?" I asked, reclining in my seat a little more, trying to relax my posture.

"Figured we could help each other, doll."

I frowned. There was that typical mobster 'charm' I was used to. Nicknames that didn't do me any favors in my job. I didn't hate them all the time, I might even consider it endearing in the right circumstance with the right person, but I was on the clock. He noticed.

"Sorry, don't mean to offend," he said, insincerity in his tone. I didn't care for false apologies. I wanted to cut to the business and get him out of my office while I still had some pride.

"You know the Red Hood?"

The corner of his mouth twitched upward briefly.

"He frequents my establishment. You come by you might meet him."

His establishment. Again I questioned how young he was to own his own business, legitimate or otherwise.

"What do you get out of it?"

He hadn't moved much during our conversation, maintaining a relaxed, overly-confident posture as we'd sized each other up silently. Now that we were into the meat of the conversation he leaned forward, elbows resting at the ends of the arms of his chair, giving me a proper view of the muscles in his forearms. They were built in the way a factory worker's might be, like he did a lot of heavy lifting regularly. Not how I'd expect someone high up in the mob to look.

"I think one of my girls is in a sticky situation. Everyone involved knows me too well for me to get close. I need some confirmation before I put a kibosh on it."

"Awfully kind of you to get involved at all, Mr. Todd. Most people with shady businesses don't care so much."

He grinned, his smile blindingly charming in a way that made my breath catch.

"We're not all bad, Detective."

I studied him carefully for a moment. He seemed genuine and as far as I knew I hadn't upset anyone in the underworld so worst case scenario he might be lying about Red Hood just to get me to help one of his dames. I couldn't fault him for that really, I'd have helped her regardless if she really needed it.

I agreed and he told me to meet him at his club later that evening as he stood to gather his things and finally leave my office. I wanted to ask more questions but there would be time for that later. I feared if he smiled at me one more time I'd lose any composure and pride I had left.

#jason todd #red hood #film noir #noir #1930s #mobster jason #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #30s au #mob au #vexic writes

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

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Love, Hate, Love: Part three

Part One // Part Two

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Spike and the reader disliked each other until they recall their shared past. They finally acknowledge it and their feelings begin to spill - but is it too late? This is the final part !!

Originally requested by: @therapieliteratur

Warning: Alcohol consumption. Implied sex. Very dodgy/amateur-ish inserted poetry lol

A/N: I don’t have anything for Valentine’s this year, so this will have to do !! Happy Valentine’s Day loves 💖🖤

The evening swept around him, the wind hissing mocking taunts as he ran from the broken promise of your love.

As William sobbed, he stumbled into the field that harboured that oak tree. Once a solace, now a marker of his loss. A gravestone to your love.

His heart was shattered and he made a decision, one that would mean you would never see him again.

In that moment, you were facing your own battle. You still lived with your parents. They did not permit you to leave that afternoon. You panicked, explaining yourself and the reason you were so desperate to go. Which just made it worse.

“Father, please!” You screamed, tears streaming hot and salted, “Please understand, William is a good man. Of a good family”

“Other arrangements have been made, child” He warned, not explaining what these were. You weren’t expected to know or comprehend.

“I love him!” You shouted. The house stopped still. Nobody moved. You were supposed to be seen, not heard. Respect your mother and father’s will. Your mother cried and begged, trying to still you from leaving.

But you managed it, running all the way to the chapel, pleading solace with the vicar. Only to find that your lovers heart was shattered and broken on the floor.

It sounded like broken glass under your feet as your tear-stained wedding gown clung to you.

You had returned from the school a week ago and fitfully rested since. You had offered your hand to help Spike up. He hadn’t taken it, but he hesitated before he told you to go away. The bite in his voice had gone. Neither of you wished to use such harsh tones anymore.

You were back in your home again. Another monotonous fight finished. They all seemed the same. You sighed, shaking your bra to remove the dust from your cleavage.

It was a few days since you last shared your dreams and suddenly you began to crumble under the weight of your tears. Crying almost as much as you had that night as that memory kept flashing behind your eyes. It still felt so fresh. How he hadn’t been there. How you had been too late.

Your legs gave out from under you. Somehow, you were on your knees. Sobbing on the tile of your kitchen floor.

You didn’t realise, but he was out there. Watching. He had followed you home and seen that you lived in a house. A real one. He had scoffed at this and that you had paid over the odds for necro-tempered glass so that you could sit in some kind of sunlight without burning in your own home. He knew this, because he had found an invoice when he had been rooting in your trash.

He was smoking when he saw the kitchen light turn on. You were visible until you dropped to the floor. Eyes leaking with such emotion.

It physically hurt him to see you that way as he moved closer to the window. Tears started to prickle behind his eyes, a lump forming at the back of his throat. He wished to wrap his arms around you. Be allowed in your house, to offer comfort. For you to want his comfort.

He had always hated to see you cry.

In the following weeks, as Spike healed, your hearts began to break over and over. You avoided facing each other, it was too painful even to be in the same room.

Spike stayed outside your house more frequently and you found yourself napping a lot more than usual, just in case you caught the moment he would be sleeping too.

You longed for him in sleep just as he pined for you in reality. You began to want each other in all manner of consciousness. Defying the pain. The hatred you had once been so convinced of. All you wanted was the other and it infuriated you. Whilst somehow simultaneously being a solace.

You were a comfort blanket that the other held close. Wrapped around your hearts for protection. Soft like Sunday morning sheets dipped in the sun’s rays. The warmth of summer days meeting the whispering of cool winter nights.

The care you had weaved in and out of your hearts left a thread. A thread that entwined with theirs and tugged towards the other. The feeling was the last thing you could cling to.

But the pain, the loss. It was creeping up on you both. It always was. Becoming harder and harder to bear. The dreams and memories becoming more and more tainted. The worse, most painful parts taking up most of the dreams.

Despite all of this, you both settled in to sleep much earlier than you ever had before. You still wanted to touch the other, feel the other’s mind. Emotions through the dream. The truth of your love. The promise that it had been real for both of you. Even if it were for mere seconds.

You looked out of the window again, sighing, staring out into the night. Not realising Spike was staring back. You were too in your own head.

You saw it now, where you hadn’t been able to before. His softer side. The lover’s heart that was still firmly planted on his sleeve. How had you missed the attention he had given to Drusilla? How had you ignored the way he spoke about her. Protected her.

Why do you now envy her? Him? For the love story you were never allowed.

You remembered so much now. You both defied convention. You always had. Now you were starting to notice all of the similarities he had to that young man you agreed to marry. You craved him. His touch. His mind.

Through the next few days, the dreams became more frequent again. More scenes from the past. More feelings. Multiple times in the night. Both of you guiltily looking forward to them. The first part, anyway. It was worth the heartache, the hollow loss at the end. To be able to touch each other again, even briefly. Just like it had been.

You had both began to write again, feverish emotions and memories spinning. You had rediscovered your love for poetry as well as that guilty affection you held for the other.

You arrived in the school library one late afternoon. Spike had seen you crying that first time a while ago now and had been watching your house more often than he would like to admit. Your heart ached with every waking moment and you felt yourself walking through life as some kind of emotion-exhausted zombie might.

“Nice of you to join” Xander murmured with a smile. You had been late. You got caught up by the vampire that often tried to make you pay him to pass by ‘his’ turf in the underground tunnel system.

Oh, right, now the vampire that used to make you pay to pass him in the tunnels.

“Yeah, sorry. What’s the sitch?” You asked, a well-practiced smile now stitched on your face for them. You weren’t really expecting much of an update as you started to shake some dust out of your hair.

“It’s Spike. We can’t just let him walk anymore. I’m goin’ out tonight and putting an end to his reign of stupid”

“N-no” You said, unsure why your mouth had moved of your own accord. You had stopped what you were doing and now just staring vaguely at the middle of the room.

“What?”

“Y/n, you know as well as we do, if not more so, what may happen should we allow Spike to continue his ill-thought out tyranny at will”

“He’s not exactly enemy number one is all I meant” You shrugged slowly, still staring unblinkingly as more memories flashed behind your eyes. He was so human in your mind, you couldn’t let that go. Even despite everything you knew about him. The goodness, no matter how limited it appeared, was starting to shine through.

“How can you even begin to defend-”

“Isn’t there a major mayor-related-massacre threatening at any moment? Shouldn’t we care more about immediate threat than some vampire who would sell his remaining brain cell for some box-bleach?”

“Spike’s dangerous though, Y/n. With the threatening and the, uh, hostage-taking-of-me” Willow said softly. It made you feel so guilty. It tore you in half, her words. You berated yourself. For clinging to that rare happiness you felt in those dreams you shared at the expense of real lives.

Your feelings all ran at each other at once. A fated fight. To the death. Neither side was winning or losing, but the battle waged on fiercely.

“Okay. But let me do it” Your eyes almost pleading with them and after some consideration, they agreed. It was you and him, to the very end.

You waited for him at the bar. Simultaneously wishing him to arrive and hoping that he never did.

He arrived, walking towards you, the dim glow of the bar making his prominent cheekbones cast a shadow against his cheeks. Your eyes were transfixed on him, he moved in slow motion. Adjusting the shoulder of his leather duster as he walked.

As he came towards the bar, your eyes flashed between seeing him in reality stalking up to the bar and William walking, smiling towards you. The pictures cutting and splicing themselves together until it was one man.

Nostalgia sticking to your mind like glue, running into your eyes. Blurring the two. He was the same man. Your mind was becoming more and more sure of this.

Which was why this was going to be so hard.

Neither of you pretended the other wasn’t there today, you gestured for him to sit next to you on the spare seat. He stared for a moment, an eyebrow quirked in confusion before he just shrugged and threw himself down beside you.

“Lookie here, if it isn’t the runaway bride” He said, his voice bit deeper than he had expected. He remembered, then. You hadn’t been sure.

“Will- uh, Spike. I didn’t run” You corrected him, without elaboration.

“Yeah, well, suppose it’s not running if you didn’t bother to turn up in the first place”

“That is way not fair! I was totally-” He raised his eyebrows at your phrasing and tensed his jaw at your lie. You cut yourself off, trying to rephrase.

You explained. Exactly what had happened and how you had stayed there all night and through the next day despite the biting cold and rain. Your wedding gown soaked through, but you wouldn’t move.

You explained that you had hoped he would know you had run into trouble. That you would be there when you could.

And Spike believed you. Even when you were younger, he could always tell when you had been lying. This was probably the most honest you had been with him since you had met again.

Spike’s eyes were threatening to spill over again and he hid it by looking downwards, he was about to say something. Reply to your recount of that day, apologise for leaving so quickly, when you were interrupted.

“He bothering you, Y/n?” The bartender asked, gesturing with his head at Spike. Every time he saw you and Spike together there was a fight and you looked more miserable than usual.

“No, uh, we’re on a date. This is, like, my happy face” You assured him with a blank expression that made him laugh, “I’ll have my usual and whatever William usually drinks.”

The bartender looked at Spike, trying to hide his obvious laughter at his real name. No wonder he had chosen Spike. Spike glared, first at you and then at the bar tender. Who surrendered and moved away to make your drinks.

You did shoot Spike an apologetic look. It had slipped out again.

When you received your round you drank in silence for a while. Your thoughts marinating in your brains. Sitting beside each other, sharing a drink – it was alien. But neither of you could help enjoying it.

He knew now that he still loved you. It hurt and he was confused with himself for it, but he couldn’t deny it. Not any longer. You had been all he ever wanted and even now he just wanted to hold you against him the way he had fantasised about in his human years.

He found himself wanting to understand you. Wanting to be allowed beneath your scarred surface. He wished to comfort you when you cried. He wished to relearn the patterns of your mind. He knew your sweet poetry wasn’t lost, just like it wasn’t in his own mind.

You knew you would have never been able to do it. As soon as he walked in, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The stake in your sleeve was splintering uncomfortably and you let it. Your penance for what you were about to say.

“I came here to kill you” You admitted, “Slayer wants you dead”

“And you and your soul’s okay with that one? Pretty little off switch your morality got, isn’t it?” He laughed humourlessly swigging from his drink, “My life’s not worth anything when there’s nothin’ in it for you and yours”

“You could run” You let the suggestion hang in the air.

“And the Slayer would let that happen? Me toddlin’ off until the next time our paths cross and then it’s dust in the wind. For the both of us” He accused. Telling you what you had always known. Your fates were entwined. You had lived and loved together. Been sired at similar times, managed to grasp onto your unlives despite the constant threat. Your soul ached for him, his missing but still showing even if it was just in your own eyes.

You took it in turns to buy the other their drink of choice. It really was like the date you had never been on. You sat in silence, each considering what had been said. Until it had gotten too much for you.

You couldn’t hide, nor run anymore. The shift was too great. Tectonic.

He caught your eye, as you watched him closely. Were you going to say this?

“I look at you and I see that oak tree, those freckles. That smile you used to give me that was ours. Like a secret that only we knew” You spoke, voice wavering and glass crunching under your hand as you held your cup too tight, “I hear the poetry, feel the breeze on my face. I can even feel the bodice that used to dig into me as we sat on the grass…” Your voice caught as his face started to soften at your confession, “I know this is selfish and… wrong. But y-you’re him. The only love ever allowed in my heart. The only one that ever will be. You’ve not changed in the way you think you have, my love” You finished, your accent switching in and out from the one you used to have and the one you used now.

He was reeling from your words. He had never, in all the time he had known you while you were undead, seen you be so honest. So vulnerable. You spoke from the heart, the way you had always used to.

Her love. Your love. He replayed those words over and over. Unable to hate or cast out any affection anymore. It was you.

You usually hid behind your guilt. Thick insulation, stopping you from moving forwards. Kept you constantly recounting past sins. It held your tongue, bound your actions to those that Angel helped construct. Acting only in a way that would allow for you to atone. No happiness, no light.

But now you were bearing yourself to him. Daring to be vulnerable - to hope that he felt it too. Despite it all. Despite who he had been to you in recent memory. The hatred, the dislike felt more distant a memory than the love your shared now.

“Cognate souls sing in early morning. My heart, begotten” The words spilled from his mouth, tears running down his cheeks now.

“There lies she, a woman. The type one may tie a knot in” You whispered, almost choking on the words and how happy they had made you. How he had asked you to be his. To marry.

You locked eyes. Both still shining. Before he closed his eyes for an extended period of time. Savouring those words. That moment.

You were holding back more tears. These feelings long since hidden, but never lost. Your dead hearts began to flutter.

You leaned in and his lips caught yours. Lips moving slowly to begin with but even the slightest movement of your lips spurred him to kiss deeper. You responded desperately, hands reaching for him.

Needing this. Needing him. You wished to make up for being so late. In this kiss.

You could taste salt and… him. The way he tasted hadn’t changed. His lips were almost warm against yours. His tongue entering your mouth hot and urgent. You kissed as if the threat of being torn from the other was imminent.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping the material of his shirt. Wishing you could take it from him right here. Press your naked skin against his. His hand slid up the curve of your neck. The other grasping at the strands of your hair.

You fumbled, pulling each other desperately closer. Bar stools fallen in your wake. You were lost in the kiss, both of you were. Moving on instinct, lips hungry and desperate to recreate the feelings you had all that time ago.

You somehow had entered his crypt. His bed was covered, completely littered with papers. Scrawled with such feeling. Some aged, that had been guiltily kept and some on fresh lined paper. He shoved them from the bed haphazardly. You missed his slight embarrassment as you attached your lips to his neck instead. Tugging on his waistband, desperate and pleading.

You needed this. You had ached for his touch for too long. This was so much more real than the dream. So badly you wanted him. Quick and now.

Your lips pressed against any skin hungrily and you were working desperately to remove all of his clothes as fast as you could.

But he stilled your hands.

Guiding your head back so you would face him. Your pupils dilated and dazed already by your desire for him. For this act that had been held in reverence. The meeting of your bodies in the way you had been told to save for your true love in your youth.

That time had passed but there was something about it being him. About it being you. You had always wanted to feel his naked flesh against your own.

“Wait, Sweet- let me?” he mumbled against your lips, kissing softly now. Like he used to. You almost wept. His mouth grazed yours, not as cautious as he once was. He had learned since, but the way his lips caressed yours. The feeling, that heart, it was still there. His lips insisted that he was still promised to you.

He wanted nothing more than to take you, rough with desire and throbbing with passion. But there was something he had to do. Something William would never forgive him for if he didn’t take this opportunity. Something he would never forgive himself for.

You nod, you were his. You always had been. You couldn’t turn back now despite him allowing you to think on it for that brief moment.

He took you, laid you back on his bed. His guiding grip strong but surprisingly tender. His hands ran down your body in a silent adoration.

He took his time to remove items of your clothing that were left. The fabric felt binding until his hand rested there. With his touch, a sigh of relief. You both felt yourselves releasing a long-held breath. One you had held inside for centuries.

Your eyes shone. It was emotional for the both of you. To have so much right here in front of them. To have everything you had truly ever dreamed.

In this moment, you felt his love in every stroke. Every murmur, every gentle encouragement. Movement. He enjoyed the way you touched his body with such reverence. Adored every sigh of pleasure.

He was firm in his love, in his touch. Your hands sliding up his back, weaving and clasping at his short, bleached hair. You moved so easily with him. Your bodies in perfect harmony. As if they were truly made for each other.

He kissed every part of you. His lips discovering places he had only ever dared dream about before. Sometimes he pressed his lips a little teasingly but others because he wanted to worship your form. He couldn’t rush this. His lips skimming every curve of your body. William was already writing sonnets in his mind. Pressing them into your skin.

He had wanted to do this since the day he had discovered what love making was. To meet your flesh with his. To consummate his adoration. To prove his devotion to your body, not just the mind he already adored. He had wanted to have you this way. To show you how true this feeling was.

His rhythm peaked and slowed. His touch sensual and yet wholly sensitive to you. Kisses littering your skin. He couldn’t believe you were here. That you were in his bed. He had longed, ached. Imagined exploring the beauty encapsulated in your form. His mind was intoxicated with you. Your touch, even your scent.

His eyes never leaving yours. Your eyes shone, threatening to spill again. You caught his lips when he kissed a trail along your collarbone towards your lips. You whispered such loving assurances against his pale skin. Into his ear as he ran a hand along your thigh. You cradled his body to you, wrapping yourself around him. Ensuring he was ever closer.

You hoped that he knew you were right there with him. That you were his, like you had been all those years ago.

You laced your fingers with his. Locking like your eyes. Every part of you had to be connected. You craved each other and it was only satisfied when you were together completely. In mind and body.

No mere dream.

He woke up the next evening, expecting you to be gone. He screwed his eyes up, not willing himself to look less the desperate pang of disappointment swallow him whole.

But when he dared to open his eyes you were there. On your side facing away from him. Sleeping. You had never slept so well, not since you had got your soul back.

You looked so peaceful when you slept. Much more so than when you were awake. He rolled over to press himself against your body. His hand tracing the curvature of your body. He had been deprived of your touch for so long.

He didn’t want this moment to end. This is what he had been missing all these years. It was you. It had only ever been you.

He cautiously ran a hand along your bare skin and enjoyed as you sighed softly through sleep. Your shoulders were exposed and he pressed his lips to your skin. Slow, gentle kisses. Pressed with such meaning. It was as soft as he remembered, despite the years. The fights.

He closed his eyes at the contact, hearing your contentment. You moved back slowly, needy for his body to further embrace yours.

This was all he had ever dreamed of. All he had written about. This was a century in the making.

Your eyes began to open, in your sleepy state you turned to him. You smiled.

William.

The smile lit up the room, better than the sun he remembered whenever you were around. You leaned in, settling a sleepy kiss against his lips.

Written poetry was scattered around the bed you shared for the day. Surrounding you both. Spike’s passion rekindled as yours was. For love and for poetry.

It was in that state between sleep and wake where reality hadn’t quite caught up. Your guilt hadn’t hit you. Your duty, anxieties. None of it was more important than the scene before you.

Everything just felt right. All you knew was this early evening adoration. You felt comfortable. Safe.

The world had stopped on its axis in this moment. The first shoots of love re-growing from your hearts.

#Spike #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x you #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #buffyverse #Spike fic #female reader #female #vampire reader #vampire

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lassieposting · 3 years

Note

China and Eliza

Send me a ship and I’ll answer the following:

Who’s the cuddler?

They're both pretty frosty tbh? Neither was raised in an environment that encouraged vulnerability or seeking affection or showing it to others. Eliza is probably the more physical one - she'll link her arm with China's or tuck her hair behind her ear or reach out to straighten her necklace. But China secretly prefers to be the little spoon.

Who goes to bed late and who wakes up first?

China goes to bed late. She's a busy woman with some antisocial work hours.

Eliza wakes up first, her beauty regime is Intense. She is Not going to be overshadowed by china every day. She's Not.

Who sings during daily activities?

Generally, neither of them are massively musical. But if one of them has a particular hymn stuck in her head, the other one will join in.

Who takes care of the other on sick days?

Neither, tbh. They don't work like that. They're both very suspicious, untrusting, wary women who will quietly withdraw from everyone else when sick or injured because they can't be seen showing weakness, not even to each other. Backstabbing and betrayal is enough of a part of their dynamic that neither would fully trust the other to look after her when she's weak and defenseless. They get patched up by Mevolent's team of healers, and then they hide out for a few days to recuperate.

Who gives unprompted massages?

China. She has surprisingly strong hands.

What activity do they do together in sync?

Braiding each other's hair before bed. Back in the day they had maids to do that for them, but now they have to do it themselves or help each other.

Who gives nose/forehead/hand kisses?

Eliza. She's Taller™

Who gets jealous?

Eliza. When you've always been the most beautiful girl in the room, it's not fun to suddenly have someone upstaging you. Even if she's your lover.

Soft kisses or passionate kisses?

Passionate.

Who brings the other food at work?

Eliza, when she's around. China, at least, works in the same place every time, it's easy enough to drop her off a bagel. Eliza's work has her constantly moving, so she's not usually within delivery distance unless she's taking some time off.

Who made the first move?

China - dismissing her lady's maid after a ball and asking Eliza to help her with the laces of her dress.

Who won’t dress in costume unless it’s a couple costume?

They're both super stylish, so their outfits are always coordinated for every ball and social event.

How was their first date like?

They massacred a village of heathens together. So romantic. They genuinely both remember this "battle" fondly.

Who writes love letters/notes to the other?

Neither, they write really passive aggressive notes that look cutesy.

"Eliza, my love,

If you use my Chanel lipstick and leave the cap off one more time, your Louboutins may need a new owner!

I'll see you this evening. Try to be on time. China." [Lipstick kiss mark] [perfume spritz]

This is their version of affectionate banter.

Who firmly believed the other was their soulmate from early on?

They don't believe in soulmates, but China thought from early on that she'd found Her People in Eliza. They have so many shared interests, she was a little older and a bit more experienced, she listened to China's troubles and gave advice, they look good together, the sex is electric. The occasional assassination attempts are less than ideal, but she's never had a healthy relationship, so.

How much do they touch each other (PDA)?

A Lot. They'll walk around arm in arm, fix each other's hair or dress or makeup, touch each other's arms or hands a lot when they're talking, greet one another with kisses on cheeks. But, like most of their age group, necking in public is not for them - it's improper. If one of them wanted to engage in a little voyeurism, it would be done at a private party attended only by the wealthy, beautiful and discreet.

Do they have cute nicknames for each other?

They're both endearment people. Lots of "my dear," "my darling," "my love," but that's not necessarily a special couple thing, it's just how they are.

How do they feel about Valentine’s Day? Do they go on a date?

They'll go on a date for literally any reason. Neither of them is particularly fond of household chores, so eating out at high-end restaurants is the norm.

Public marriage proposal or something private?

I can't see them getting married. Their relationship is too fiery, too unstable. Neither is in it for longterm domestic bliss. They're in it because it's dangerous and exciting and risky and passionate. Getting married is kind of pointless when occasional attempts to kill each other is a fundamental part of your relationship dynamic.

How long into the relationship before they had sex?

Not that long. China was furious and brokenhearted and desperately in need of a rebound after Skug announced his engagement. Eliza was openly flirty when China joined Mevolent officially. They very quickly became each other's "dearest friend and confidante".

Who drops innuendos at random?

Eliza. She's a little court bird, she loves gossip and intrigue and secrets and slipping innuendo into an innocuous comment to cause scandal. Implying someone's wife was sleeping with someone else was a favourite way of getting revenge on a hated rival back in the day.

Who makes romantic surprises without a reason to?

Eliza. She's still making up for demolishing China's life. Rare and priceless gifts go a long way towards getting back in China's good books.

How likely are they to have sex in a non-bedroom location?

Very. If you can fuck there, these two probably have.

Who said “I love you” first and when?

China, the first time Eliza betrayed her. That was a hard lesson for her to learn, but a necessary one.

Who will sing cheesy romantic songs when drunk?

Neither. They very rarely get drunk, as a rule. China hates the lack of control and Eliza is too wary of everyone around her.

#skulduggery pleasant #sp headcanons #sorrowscorn

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

Hey there! I'm not sure if you've seen this movie ( Mr. & Mrs. Smith ) but can you write a Mr. & Mrs. Morgan fight scene against each other that leads them to having rough sex? Reader can be with the O'Driscolls gang or something, that makes them fight. Up to you.

Hello Anon! I have seen Mr and Mrs Smith once and it was a long time ago, but I remember the general plot. Hopefully I have kept within your idea of this and it does your request justice. Note, I am not a huge fan of rough sex so the smut might be super tame in comparison to other writers.

Warnings: swearing, smut, high angst

You stare down at the table, your fingers brushing the cut-out article from a newspaper. There’s no picture to the article, just a header. “Van der Linde Gang still at large”. You’ve read it a hundred times by now. It talks about the notorious Dutch Van der Linde, Hosea Matthews, and a few other names, including your husband’s, Arthur Morgan. A large amount of money is being offered for each person mentioned, Dutch being the highest at $20,000. Arthur himself has a decent amount of $5,000.

You were angry when you first read the article, when Colm brought it to your attention. You’ve run with his gang since you were just a teen with your older brother. It was your brother’s idea to join the O’Driscoll’s, he’d disguised you as a boy since Colm didn’t take women on. You already knew how to shoot a gun and ride a horse luckily, which was fine since Colm didn’t allow men into his gang who couldn’t do both. Although you were disguised as a boy, it didn’t take long for your real gender to be revealed. One of Colm’s boys spotted you when you were bathing in a river and let your secret out. Colm almost shot you in the head, stating women just slowed them down and you’d deceived him. Your brother defended you, pointing out that you were one of the best shots. Colm hesitatingly agreed, but he didn’t want you camping with his boys, declaring you would be little more than a distraction.

As payment for your work and loyalty to the gang, he told you to live at one of his cabins he used a frequent hideout. You weren’t thrilled with this seeming demotion on your status, but you knew Colm’s temper had an extremely short fuse, so you didn’t argue. Only a few weeks after you were stationed, Colm collected you to help him investigate an incident at Six Point Cabin, another one of his hideouts. He nearly stationed you there and was thinking of moving you there now. When you two arrived, the place was littered with the bodies of your gang, including your brother’s. It crushed you seeing your brother like that and Colm offered no words of comfort. He was angry and he knew immediately this was Van der Linde’s work.

You heard the name Van der Linde thrown around enough times. The man was a professional at stealing Colm’s scores. Not that Colm’s record against Dutch was clean. You heard the other men talk about how he killed Dutch’s lover Annabelle. Seems the two men were constantly trying to rob and kill each other. Six Point Cabin was when Colm gave you the article, stating that he was going to come up with a plan to somehow get a hold of Dutch and take him and his boys to Blackwater, turn them in for all that money, and then the gang would flee down to Mexico. He told you to take point in this cabin from now on as the Van der Linde’s were unlikely to return.

The article hadn’t been a surprise to you. What had been a shock was reading your husband’s name. You’d been married to Arthur for over a year and he never mentioned he was in a gang, nonetheless Colm’s adversarial gang. Sure, he’d revealed before you were married that he was an outlaw, which was why he couldn’t stay in one place for too long. You’d lied too, stating you were a waitress in the Valentine saloon. You covered your knowledge of fighting by saying your family were hunters before they’d died in a terrible snowstorm, which was partially true. You had enough knowledge of hunting that he bought it. Now you’re conflicted though. When you first read the article, you thought maybe there’d been some misidentity or perhaps it was a different Arthur Morgan. However, plagued by fears, you dug into the Blackwater massacre and your Arthur was unquestionably the one mentioned in the article. Now you’re torn between your loyalty to your gang, whom your brother died for, and your loyalty to your husband.

Arthur’s a wonderful husband, there’s no question about that. Were he not pursued by the law, he’d definitely be happy to settle down with you and make a proper family life for you. Many nights you’ve spent with him talking about how things could be if neither of you were so wanted (though he knew nothing of the price on your head). Arthur visits at least once every two weeks, sometimes having to travel for hours in order to do so, and he stays for a few days. When he’s with you, you both spend the time with lots of cuddles, kisses and sex. Arthur’s a pro at knowing how to satisfy you and you know exactly which of his buttons to push to make him fall head-over-heels for you all over again.

When he arrives for each visit, he always brings something for you. Usually it’s money since he believes you’re a struggling waitress in Valentine (which you don’t try convincing him otherwise). He often brings flowers, books, jewelry, and other kinds of supplies. You always offer him lots of types of food since you spend most of your time at Six Point Cabin. You learned to cook from a young age and you prefer using fresh ingredients. You have enough time to collect fresh game and herbs too, being a watcher of Colm’s hideout. Arthur’s your top fan when it comes to your food, stating you could cook for a governor. He never leaves hungry after visiting you and you make sure his satchel is laden with snacks you’ve made from scratch.

You pick up the article and reread it, your stomach clenching when you read Arthur’s name again. Colm visited only a few days ago. It’s been a couple of weeks since the attack on Six Point. You’d asked him during his visit if he knew which one of Dutch’s boys was responsible for the ambush.

“Oh Dutch himself wouldn’t do this,” Colm stated. “Killing my men and your brother weren’t important enough for him to grace his presence on.” He inspected the bodies of the men, noting how many of them have been shot in the eye. “I bet that sniveling coward Kieran led his boys here, but this work says his number one gun led the charge.”

“Who’s his number one gun?” you ask, praying he won’t say who you’re thinking it is.

“Name’s Arthur Morgan. He’s this real big guy, almost a shame he ain’t runnin’ with us. We’d do real well with a fella like him.”

You wanted to vomit when Colm said this. The thought that your husband was the one who killed your brother was a detestable idea. However, as time has passed since Colm told you Arthur was the likely culprit, it’s begun to fester in your mind. If Colm finds out Arthur is your husband, he’ll shoot you before you even have the chance to tell him you’ve had no dealings with the Van der Linde gang. Yet if Arthur finds out your place with the O’Driscoll’s, you’re just as frightened. You’re much more frightened of losing him than Colm killing you. The man’s a bastard and you’ve only stayed in his gang because there is no getting out of his gang. To get out means to die. Not only that, your brother died for them. It’d be an insult to his memory to abandon this gang.

Arthur’s visited once since you learned of your brother’s death. He didn’t act any different, but he knew something was off about you. You blamed it on just feeling under the weather and he coddled you, clearly trying to help you feel better. You couldn’t tell him though that you felt horrible because you were terrified you might be looking at your brother’s killer. He’d left two days later when he was sure you were feeling better (you lied and said you were). Colm came by a few days after that.

“Colm, you still thinking of moving on with this plan to capture Van der Linde?” you asked, hoping he’d changed his mind.

“Course. That’s a lot of money sitting on his head. We’re gonna run down to Mexico when we got him. Why you askin’, Y/N? Got somethin’ to say?”

Your stomach felt cold when he asked you this and something in his eyes glittered accusingly. “N-no, sir. Just wanted to know the plan since I’m not running with you all the time anymore.”

“I see,” he said greasily. “Well, I went around talkin’ to some folk, mentioned they met a feller sounds an awful lot like Morgan in the Valentine bar. They said he was drunk and talkin’ about how amazing his wife is. Now I ain’t spoken with Morgan in a long time, but I don’t recall him ever being married. Not only that, Malken and Henderson saw him in this area only a few days ago. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would ya?”

You put on a poker face as best you could. “Course not, Colm. I don’t even know what Morgan looks like. All I know is what you’ve told me about him.”

“So if I brought you a newspaper article saying he’s been arrested and going to hang real soon, you wouldn’t care?”

That’s when you know you’re secret’s out. Somehow, Colm’s found out. However, you won’t confess. Not yet. To confess now would promise a bullet into your skull. “No, I wouldn’t care, Colm. One less Van der Linde we’d have to worry about.”

He nodded and then said he was leaving. “I’ll be back in a few days. I think this cabin ain’t a very good spot for you no more. The boys and I will collect you when we’ve found somewhere more… suitable.”

Without a doubt, Colm’s promising to come back and kill you in front of the entire gang. An example of what will happen to anyone fraternizing with Dutch’s boys. You ponder on the wisdom of running away, but several of Colm’s boys are expert tracksmen. They’ll find you before you have the chance to even get to a different state. You realize the safest place for you is to be within Arthur’s gang. It might mean this Dutch will kill you, but Arthur sounds like he holds a high place of authority and he might be able to protect you. From what Colm was making it sound like, he’s been spending a lot of time in Valentine. That’s where you are now, sitting at the bar in the saloon with the article Colm gave you sitting in front of you. You throw your whiskey back when the door opens.

“Darlin’, what ya doin’ here?” says a familiar voice.

Looking over, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “Arthur, I need your help with something. Ride home with me. I’ll explain, but I have some questions for you. Questions I need you to be honest about.”

His face is serious. “A’right. Lead the way.”

You don’t speak the entire ride back to your cabin, you’re not sure how to bring the subject up to him. He’s going to be angry, sure, when you tell him the truth. However, it’s the only way you can protect yourself since Colm’s already planning to kill you. When the cabin’s peaking through the trees, the river burbles happily not far from it. You dismount and take a few steps away from him. Finally, you turn.

“Arthur, did you recently visit a place called Six Point Cabin a few weeks back? Maybe ran into a bunch of boys you might call the O’Driscoll’s?”

“How you know about that, Y/N?”

You don’t answer him straight away. “Did you see a man with a big patch of dark skin on the right side of his neck?” you ask. Your brother had a huge birthmark on his neck, which gave him the nickname Pinto in the gang.

“Again, how do you know this, Y/N?”

“Just answer the question, Arthur, please!”

He blinks at you, his hands on his hips. “Yeah, yeah I think I saw a feller with a mark like that.”

“Did you kill him?”

He sighs. “Yes I killed him, but he was shootin’ at me, darlin’, so it was him or me. Now why you askin’ me about this?”

Your eyes tear up a bit and you bite your lip. “He was my brother, Arthur.”

His brow lowers. “You never told me you had a brother, nonetheless one who was an O’Driscoll? Those boys are nothin’ but bastards who have no moral code.”

“Funny, he said the same thing about your gang.”

“How’d you find out about my gang?”

You wring your hands. “I… read about it. In the paper.”

Arthur takes a menacing step towards you. “So your brother was an O’Driscoll and I shot him in the head. But like I said, he was shootin’ at me.”

“From what I heard, you were the ones who ambushed him and the others. Sounds like he was just defending himself, Arthur.”

As if on cue, you both whip out your pistols and point them at each other. Arthur’s eyes gleam with pain and betrayal. “You’re an O’Driscoll, ain’t ya?”

“And you’re a Van der Linde! Pretty high up in the hierarchy too from what Colm said. Your boss has been stealin’ a lot of scores from us, we’ve had to work twice as hard to get by.”

“Yeah, and your boss has killed a lot of us, including Dutch’s girl. Not only that, they’ve stolen scores from us too. Which one is harder to replace, darlin’? People or money?”

“You tell me, Arthur. You killed my brother! He practically raised me and if it wasn’t for him, I’d have died years ago.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, he almost seems sorry. “So what you gonna do, darlin’? Kill me? Your brother’s first mistake was joinin’ Colm’s boys. He’s honestly lucky he lasted that long, as are you.”

His words sting and you fire first, not aiming to kill him but your anger has fueled your trigger. He dodges behind a tree and then fires back at you. A boulder provides cover for you. The next few moments pass quickly and you exchange gunshots, darting between trees and boulders. You’re standing on the porch of the cabin and Arthur gets a particularly good shot, barely missing your foot. You hop out of the way and end up crashing into the cabin. Now you’re truly screwed. The cabin’s just one big room and there’s nowhere to hide. You back into it and stand close to the fireplace.

Arthur marches into the door, his teeth bared and his eyes flashing with anger. You point your gun and pull the trigger, but it clicks. You’re out of ammo. You pull the trigger again and the same thing happens.

“Time to stop runnin’, Y/N,” he says, his pistol pointed at you.

You lower your gun, panting, and then drop it. “You’re right. Go ahead then, Arthur. I’m a dead woman anyways. Colm… he found out. About you and me. One of his boys must have talked. So even if you decide to just take pity on me and leave now, I’ll be dead in a few days. He’s coming for me, plans to make an example I imagine. Please, Arthur. Just pull the trigger. If I have to pick between a quick death and a slow one, I’ll choose quick.”

He breathes hard for a moment and then lowers his gun. “I ain’t gonna kill ya, sweetheart. Your brother may have been a fool for gettin’ involved with Colm, but sounds like he cared about ya a lot and you’re only alive now because of him. I’m sorry I shot him, darlin’, but even though we’re in different gang, I made an oath when I married ya. I promised to protect ya. I ain’t lettin’ that bastard kill ya.”

He walks slowly over to you, holstering his guns. You look up at him, a flicker of hope rising in your chest.

“Arthur, Colm will know you’re protecting me. He’ll hunt you down even more than he is now. He… he’s planning on getting to Dutch somehow, turn him into the authorities in Blackwater, collect the money and run to Mexico.”

“That ain’t happenin’, darlin’. Dutch ain’t that stupid. But you and I…” the energy between you crackles. “You and I have a lot to discuss if this marriage is gonna continue to work. I want it to work. I love ya still, despite all this.”

You leap forward and kiss him hard. The last thing you want is for your marriage to end because you made some poor choices in your youth. Arthur’s arms wind around you and then tangle into your hair. He pulls your head back and kisses your neck, his tongue coming out. Still fueled by adrenaline, you feel a sudden urge to fuck him.

Panting slightly, you look Arthur in the eyes. “How about we start working on fixin’ this marriage right now, Arthur?”

Arthur suddenly rips your shirt open and tips you backwards on the table. He kisses you hard as he strips off your shirt and your chemise, his hands automatically finding your nipples. He’s only seen and felt them a hundred times before now, but he acts like this is the first time. He kisses you hard and then he leans up, his hands leaving your body.

“Strip,” he says as he begins removing his own clothes. You can’t help but giggle as you stand up to take off your pants. As soon as you’re both naked, Arthur grabs you and puts you back onto the table. He kisses you as his cock brushes your folds. You bite his lower lip and he pulls away just slightly so your lips can’t touch anymore.

“I want ya to touch yourself,” he says. You blush. He’s never asked you to do this, preferring to touch you himself.

“Don’t you wanna do it?” you gasp as he grabs your legs and puts your feet on the edge of the table, spreading your knees so you’re exposed.

“I wanna watch you get yourself off,” he says, his deep voice going through your body. His hands leave you and he takes a step back, his eyes on your lower half. Even from here, you can see he’s breathing hard as he waits for you, expectantly.

You haven’t touched yourself since before you got married to Arthur. You haven’t had to. The thought of your own hands getting yourself off turns you on though, so you slide your fingers down and begin stroking your clit. You lay your head on the table, closing your eyes as you touch yourself. One hand circles your clit, studying your own nub as the other goes to your entrance. You open your eyes and see Arthur still standing there, his hands pulling on his cock as he watches you. Your eyes go down to his length, he’s already dripping.

“You like what you see?” you ask, circling again and again. He nods and you press your fingers harder against yourself, going a bit faster. He must be able to hear how wet you are as your fingers stroke; he begins pumping himself a bit faster. As you get yourself closer to your release, your hips begin thrusting up and down slowly. Before long, you’re letting go to your own hand.

When you come down, you look at Arthur and he’s standing between your legs. He grabs you, pulls you off the table and turns you around so your back is facing him. He bends you forward and spreads your legs, his cock finding your entrance easily. He plants his hands beside yours as he begins pushing himself into you forcefully. Then one hand grabs your hip, holding you close and his other goes up to your breast, fiddling with your nipple. You gasp in his grip as he moves fast, his cock sliding in and out of you. His lips kiss where your shoulder meets your neck and he nips you, making you hiss.

This is new for Arthur, for you. All the times you’ve had sex with him, he’s been gentle unless you asked him to be rough. Now he’s pushing himself hard, his hands squeezing almost too tight on your hip and nipple. You have to stiffen your arms in order to prevent collapsing onto the table from the force of his bucking.

“Arthur,” you say, trying to get him to acknowledge your discomfort, although you wonder if he doesn’t care in the light of your newly exposed secrets. You feel a twinge of guilt and realize you don’t get the luxury of him making you feel good right now. Not after how much you’ve lied to him. You hang your head and want to cry, but you’re sure he’ll become angry if you do. You can’t help it though as he pounds into you. Tears begin leaking from your eyes.

“Am I hurtin’ ya?” he asks, suddenly stopping mid-thrust. His question does the trick and you let go. You’d be lying if you said his force and angle didn’t hurt just enough you won’t be able to orgasm from this.

“N-no,” you say. “It’s not you. Keep going though, Arthur, you deserve to do this to me.”

He suddenly pulls out of you and turns you around to face him. His hands go to your face and he brushes your hair away, rubbing your cheeks dry. His eyes are soft and betray his worry. He kisses you softly.

“I want ya to feel good,” he says, taking you by surprise.

“Why?” you say.

“Because I love ya, despite all this. Darlin’, I love ya so much.”

“But I’ve lied to you. Hurt you.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But you ain’t the only one. I’ve lied too. Not only that, I took your brother away from you. I ain’t ever gonna forgive myself for that.” He kisses you softly.

You smile up at him and then lay down onto the table, spreading your legs. “Well, in that case, do what you must. Show me how sorry you are.”

He smiles and pumps his cock again, making it stiffen up once more. He pushes back into you and starts to buck. This angle is much better as he can brush your spot. You close your eyes as your body moves from his force. His hands go to your hips, pushing you down onto him when he pushes in, allowing him to pound into you. You plant your feet onto the table again, giving him a better angle and your hand slides down to your slit. You’re hungry for the stimulation to your clit. When you begin brushing, you groan audibly. The sounds you make cause him to buck faster.

“Always thought you sounded so pretty when I’m fuckin’ you,” he growls. You open your eyes and find his. The blue is so pretty and the intensity of them makes you rub even faster. It doesn’t take long before you’re going off again. Arthur doesn’t stop thrusting though as you clench your teeth and tip your head back, letting go. Your hand stops and he pushes it out of the way, stroking your clit. He wants to prolong your orgasm, you realize.

“A-Arthur!” you whine as your orgasm rocks through your body. He still pounds into you, his fingers circling your clit. He gives it a quick flick and your hips thrust up. “I’m coming!” you grunt loudly. You feel as though you’re levitating, or perhaps your soul’s leaving your body. Thankfully, his hand stops and he goes back to thrusting your hips in time to his.

You come down from your high, your hair planted to your neck. He grins down at you wickedly and continues pumping into you. His eyes glue themselves to your bouncing breasts. His hips suddenly snap against yours and he pulls out quickly, his hot seed spilling onto your stomach. When he’s done, he pants above you, his cock growing soft again.

“Fuck,” he says. You’re breathing heavily and you reach up, pulling him down for a long kiss. He pulls away after a moment and reaches into his satchel, pulling out a cloth and cleaning you up. You sit up when he’s done and look at him hard, feeling relaxed in the wake of your passions.

“Okay, Arthur. We need to talk about what’s going to happen. To us.”

Arthur sits beside you on the table, your arms brushing. He grabs your hand and kisses it. “Well, I thought that’d be rather obvious, darlin’. I’m bringin’ ya with me to my gang. We’re out in a place called Horseshoe Overlook. Real pretty, think you’d like it.”

“What about Dutch?” you ask. “Won’t he try to kill me when he finds out?”

“He’ll be angry sure, and he probably won’t ever trust ya. You’ll have to work extra hard, but I’ll be with ya every step of the way. Dutch knows not to interfere with my family.”

“Does he know you’re married?”

He smiles. “I think he and Hosea know I’m involved with a woman, though I doubt they know I’m married. Dutch knows though that I’ll go where you go, he ain’t got a say in that. And I know he wants me around. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe, darlin’. Especially if you got some dirt to dig up on Colm. As long as you don’t try hidin’ what you know, you’ll be fine. That’s the mistake Kieran made. Wouldn’t speak even when we starved and beat him. Had to threaten him with Bill’s geldin’ tongs.”

“So you’re saying that as long as I speak up before they have a chance to torture me, I’ll be fine?”

“Yes and no. Like I said, don’t think Dutch will ever trust ya.”

“I didn’t stay in the gang for Colm. That man’s a bastard and I’d like nothing more than to see him shot. I stayed for my brother. I would have left the gang as soon as I found out he was dead, but Colm doesn’t allow deserters. Either you’re an O’Driscoll or you’re dead.”

“I understand, darlin’. And if that’s the case, it might make Dutch be a little more lenient on ya.” He squeezes your hand again. “Now how about you and I go somewhere I can keep ya safe? Or would you prefer we go another round again?”

You smile at him. “I think one more round sounds nice.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #awkward asks

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albion19 · 5 years

Text

Bonkai wip

So I’m going to post stuff that’s been in a folder for too long. It’s all unfinished and some posts will be longer than others. Enjoy!

Shadows and whispers follow her through the empty house, a house that she cannot stand to be in any longer. She is going to sell it and think about where to go next. Not Virginia but somewhere South. Maybe New Orleans…

No, that’s where Kai is.

Kai Parker. Her arch nemesis, not that he viewed her as such. She had locked him up in a Prison World, a looping cold day in February. Just after Valentine’s day. He liked to sing her sad love songs when she visited him…She should have killed him, as Ric wanted but he had answers. Elena remained asleep for months after Stefan died and in that time Kai had toyed with Bonnie, offering the answers to all her problems…

Lights flashed in the dark. Red, green, blue, white. Again and again. Music played, a song that had been playing for months on end, never abating. It was a form of torture and some nights in the silence of her empty room she thought she could hear it. Kai was desiccated and she wondered as she forced the straw between his lips if he could hear Two Princes even unconscious. It likely followed him into his nightmares. She lowered the volume a little and tried not to let it show how much it annoyed her too.

He took some time to get his bearings as she squeezed the last of the blood into his mouth and stepped back. He lifted a woozy, pale face and groaned.

“No…turn – turn it off.”

“I’ll turn the sound down if you answer my question.”

He looked away from the jukebox and landed his unfocused eyes on her. She saw the moment he realised who she was, that she was real. He smiled and she could not help but feel a vindictive pride. He had boasted that Katherine would make them suffer but Bonnie had stopped her, had literally stopped hell in its tracks.

“…I take it back.”

“What?” she stepped closer as Kai shifted in his chair, the chains clinking. He looked more like his usual self-possessed self, his colour returning. Infuriating.

“You’re the baddest bitch.”

Bonnie looked down to hide her smirk, half in shadow but Kai saw and grinned. Bonnie looked back up with a stern face. “You don’t seem surprised. I thought you lost a bet?”

“I did because I thought you’d figure who was in the casket. Am I surprised you beat Katherine? No, I was counting on it,” he admitted and Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “I wanted hell gone, Cade or no Cade. I told Kathy that you were weak, that you were no threat so she’d leave you alone. I didn’t care that hell was in better hands, I never intended to go back there. She could burn forever for all I cared, though she’d likely try to drag me along with her when she realised I fucked her over. You sticking me in here was actually a good thing,” he mused, looking around the bar.

Bonnie smirked. “We both know that’s a lie.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying I never underestimated you Bonster.”

Bonnie nodded, looking at the ground and did not answer. He might be lying but he sounded sincere. She moved closer and caught his gaze, which was a bright blue in the spotlight. “Wake up Elena.”

“Oh is she still snoozing? Tried true love’s kiss? Damn I should have done that instead. Just to see Damon’s face when it doesn’t work.”

“Stop playing games. I died for a minute, I saw her in some limbo place but she’s still sleeping. You said if one of us died she would wake up.”

“Well, she did wake up for that minute you were dead. That limbo place is where I trapped her soul but she could have crossed over with you taking her place. You came back.”

Bonnie shook her head, remembering how Enzo had pushed her out of that dreamy world and back to the land of the living. Bonnie shook the empty blood bag at Kai.

“If you ever want free from those chains you have to tell me about the spell!”

“Sure but it wouldn’t make any difference. I’m the one that cast it, so I’m the only one that can undo it.”

“Then undo it.”

“You’ll let me out?” he asked, smirk on his mouth. He knew the answer to that.

“Of those chains, yes. You’ll be free to walk away and never hear that song again,” Bonnie said and Kai looked hatefully at the jukebox. He sighed, looking back at her.

“I said my death made the spell I put on Elena permanent. So if we reverse that, make me a shiny new living breathing witch again, she’ll wake.”

“Bring you back to life? Sure I’ll just get on that Lazarus.”

He stared fixedly, eyes drilling into hers. “Come on, you know what to do,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm.

“Sorry but the cure is off the table.”

“Pretty sure it’s all room temperature and housed in a soon to be rapidly ageing Salvatore.”

He grinned and Bonnie’s stomach plummeted. “If you drink the cure Damon will die.”

Kai pouted. “My heart bleeds for him Bon, truly, but that’s the condition. I can’t wake up Elena while I’m kinda-sorta dead. If Damon loves Elena then he should be willing to sacrifice everything for her, right? I find them utterly gross but that would even give me warm fuzzies.”

Bonnie threw up her hands. “You’re full of shit. If he does that he and Elena will never be together.”

“And if he doesn’t he’ll grow old without her. Or more likely die of liver failure in a year or two. So either way he’s screwed,” he tried hard not to grin and failed.

“Or I could die.”

The smile on Kai’s face dimmed and then vanished at her quiet, considering words. “No, you won’t. You die and this place collapses because you helped make it. You’d be letting me out. You can guess what’ll happen then.” His smirk returned but there was a dark desperation there. With the twins alive it was unlikely the prison would collapse, just become unstable.

Bonnie was lying, she would not risk her life to wake Elena. She had promised Enzo that she would live every moment of her life with no regrets and she was not going to break that promise.

“So you get the cure and Elena wakes?”

“The retro Gemini version of me destroys the binding agent for the spell and then Elena wakes, yes.”

“What’s the binding agent?”

“Damon,” he said and shrugged at her appalled face. “I didn’t know he was gonna become human and solve my heretic dilemma. I actually brought the cure with me from 1903 but someone burned my body. It was in my pocket the whole time.”

He stared at her in accusation and all Bonnie could do was gawp. After the wedding massacre she had gone back to the barn and set his headless body on fire. She had no clue he had the cure to vampirism. Bonnie cupped her face, shaking her head.

“You’re so exhausting. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Do a spell on me. I’m not lying. I’ll become human and wake Elena. Waking her will also break the link between you. For what it’s worth, I probably shouldn’t have done that. I was hurt,” he said with something like remorse, a winching thing.

“Bo fucking ho. I swear if you’re lying I will never come back. Do you get it? You’ll be alone forever.”

Kai’s eyes flashed with fear before he smiled gently. “Nah. We’re gonna grow old together Bon.”

He was right. Damon had trashed the mansion, gotten drunk for about a month and then agreed. He never deserved Elena, the one man who did was now dead and if Damon could make up for that sacrifice by giving Elena the chance to live her life then he would do it.

Kai had been grinning from ear to ear, though he did try at times to look sombre but that just pissed Damon off more. As Damon laid Elena down on the pool table Bonnie had switched off the jukebox, which made Kai a little teary eyed before he motioned at his chains.

“Can’t do this with my hands tied.”

With a strong feeling of dajavu Bonnie released Kai, who stretched for five minutes before getting off the stage. Then he picked up the chair he had been sitting in and threw it at the jukebox. He sighed as the glass shattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months. Okay, let’s do this.”

He drank Damon’s blood after giving a toast, which had been poured into a shot glass. He then asked them to take Elena’s hands. Bonnie sneered as Kai’s long, slim fingers laced through hers, while he took Damon’s wrist. He chanted, eyes closed and Bonnie watched as he wavered, his breathing becoming laboured as sweat dripped down his face. The cold snap she usually felt when touching a vampire started to fade, though with a heretic her magic recoiled at the wrongness of his nature. It was slowly replaced with the familiar warm vibration of a human witch. The magic within her became coaxed, sensing a power equal to her own but before she could delve into it Elena opened her eyes.

Kai stepped back, releasing them and gave Bonnie and Damon space as they cried and hugged a disorientated Elena. The crying became hard and he shied away, looking uncomfortable. Bonnie, after kissing her friend, quickly caught Kai as he left.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Outside? All that wailing and hair rending is giving me a headache. God, can you feel that?” he asked as they stepped out onto the empty street. Dusk light cast long shadows behind them as Kai dragged in a great lungful of air.

“Feel what?”

“Nature. All the little night creatures are waking up and there’s a smell of spring in the air. I’ve missed this.”

Bonnie gazed at him. Kai was awful, he was a killer and ruined so many lives. She never forgot he was a witch but that connection to nature that she felt in her bones was not something she associated with Kai.

“I never took you for a nature lover.”

“I’m a witch, it’s just instinctive. Fuck I hated being a heretic, the two natures did not get on at all. I had to really depend on siphoning my vampirism more than nature. It thought I was icky,” he sighed and leaned against the wall of the bar. He motioned behind them. “The looping of time in this world should slow his ageing a little but he’ll still die. Are you gonna stay here until then?”

Bonnie nodded. “I am…but they need space to say goodbye. You can’t be here to ruin that.”

Kai smirked. “Gonna chain me up again? Bonnie you’ve got this whole freaky side to you I never knew existed.”

“You wish.”

“Seriously, it’s hot,” he laughed, biting his lip and she turned away. He grabbed her arm and she hissed.

“Don’t touch me,” she shoved him back and he grinned, flicking his fingers at the necklace she wore.

“Vampire blood? Elmo’s?”

“Enzo!”

“That’s what I said. It looks like one of those life buoy thingies, you know for people who need saving?” his expression soured. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Yeah like I’ll take fashion advice from a guy literally stuck in the 90’s,” she pushed him away and turned as he laughed.

“Whatever, plaid’s eternal. You rocked that grunge look and I always look good no matter what.”

“Christ, I’m going. If I see you within five feet of me again I’ll set you on fire.”

She walked back into the bar, waiting with bated breath for him to follow but after a few minutes she looked back out to find a deserted street. He was gone.

After Damon died, Elena and Bonnie grieved. She had been content to let Kai rot. She had given him the cure and he could now walk around his prison world. It was a mercy. There was no way out without her, no one else knew he was there except for her inner circle of friends. As far as she was concerned the last time she ever saw him was at Damon’s death bed.

She should have known better.

A siphoner was a rare and dying breed. For all the name calling and shunning there was a lot of good that a witch with such an ability could do. The Original family had thought so and learning that the most powerful siphoner and previous coven leader was alive but trapped had done nothing but spur them into action.

The ascendant Bonnie kept tucked into her mattress had disappeared. Before going to bed at night she checked that spinning contraption and usually awoke most mornings with her fingers around it. It might have been her imagination but touching it caused her to sense Kai, to dream of him and that morning she woke with a very clear image:

Klaus Mikaelson treating Kai Parker to a gourmet meal on a lively New Orleans street.

He had stolen her blood and her prisoner.

She had turned up in New Orleans with only one purpose and that was to drag Kai Parker back into his cold February jail cell. Why the Mikealson’s wanted Kai could only be for nefarious purposes so she was likely doing the world a favour by thwarting their plans.

She had not counted on a little red headed girl meeting her at the bus station.

“Hi. My name’s Hope. I know why you’re here.”

Bonnie had smiled in bemusement, lowering her backpack. “You do?”

“You want Kai. He said you’d be coming,” she leaned forward and spoke quietly, cupping her mouth. “He never stops talking about you. Actually he never stops talking. He’s weird.”

Bonnie frowned at the girl as she offered her hand, looking around. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Yeah but it’s okay, I know my way back. Just don’t tell my mom and dad okay?”

“…Okay,” Bonnie, feeling deeply bewildered, took Hope Mikaelson’s hand and stiffened. The nine year old girl was immensely powerful, a true prodigy and the daughter of the oldest vampire in the world. Hope explained how Kai came into her life as they walked through the quarter.

“I was sick. This thing, this monster was attacking kids, witches like me. It was draining us and nothing could stop it because it was too powerful. It wasn’t alive so it couldn’t be killed, it exists outside this world…” she shuddered as they waited at a crossing. Bonnie watched the crowd for any sign of an Original or Kai. The little girl looked up at her. “I dreamed of you, of the spinning key you keep under your pillow.”

“The ascendant?”

“Right. I didn’t really know what it was, I just knew that it opened the door to the person that could save us. Auntie Freya did a location spell and got the key from you.”

“And she let Kai out,” Bonnie stopped at a street corner, shaking her head. “It wasn’t anyone’s to steal.”

Guilt flashed over the girl’s face but then she lifted her chin. “It’s not stealing if you give it back. It’s borrowing.”

Bonnie smiled despite herself. “I suppose that makes sense. Can I have it back?” she offered her hand but Hope shook her head.

“Kai has it.”

“Of course he does. You know he was in there for a reason? He’s not a good person.”

“People say that about my dad but they’re wrong. Mostly. Kai thinks you’ll never forgive him but I told him he should wait and see.”

“He said that?”

“No, he doesn’t have to. He’s all messed up inside, his dreams are terrible,” she said and from the haunted look in her eyes Bonnie assumed the poor girl had got a glimpse of them. Kai had endured 18 years of isolation and then years being tortured in hell. He had suffered but it was easier to believe he felt nothing.

“He has nightmares about me?” she gave a small smirk.

“No, you’re the good ones but they kinda hurt the most. I try not to absorb what other people feel but I can’t help it sometimes. I’m like a sponge.”

Bonnie nodded, feeling pity. The girl was young but there was a weight to her and not just because of the family she was born into. In the distance she felt a vibration, a witch approaching.

“Why is Kai here? What did he do?”

“He siphoned the monster and trapped it into his prison dimension. He siphoned me and other kids, healing so many of us. We’d be dead without him.”

“And your family is grateful,” Bonnie sighed, watching as Klaus Mikaelson approached with a witch, an intense man she did not know.

“You should take that off,” Hope said suddenly and Bonnie looked down. The girl was staring at the blood necklace. Bonnie griped it and smiled.

“Why? Do you think it’s ugly too? Maybe I should get a new setting for it.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s like there’s something tied to it. It’s pulling so hard. Can’t you feel it?”

Bonnie did not have time to answer as Klaus appeared. He exhaled with relief at the sight of Hope, who ran into his arms. Behind them Kai stood, hands in his pockets and after a pause gave Bonnie a sheepish wave.

Kai was treated with respect and gratitude. He was offered a place in New Orleans, a fresh start and support from a community of witches who did not know of his past, only the heroic deeds of his present. He was the man who saved their children and defeated the monster. Those who did know of his past had let it lie undisturbed. He was in the company of sinners seeking absolution, one she thought Kai never asked for. Still, he stayed.

She had to leave, if only to stop the vindictive pull that wanted to topple his happy little world. The Prison World was now home to some eldritch nightmare from the dawn of time, a thing that Kai had lovingly dubbed Pennywise.

“You can have the ascendant back if you want? I heard you kept it under your pillow.”

“Yeah, no. I can imagine the sweet dreams.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes as she sat back, her belly full. They were sat on a balcony overlooking the quarter. Wisteria grew along the railing, framing them. It was romantic but her companion uninvited. She had just wanted a nice meal alone with a glass of wine before she left. She had been in the city for three days and tomorrow she was leaving. She had met Kai only briefly, just to hear his part in the tale. It all seemed to correlate with what Hope and Klaus told her. She had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with Kai and while he seemed committed to starting afresh he could not let her leave without seeing her one last time.

“So you’re going back to Mystic Falls?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but no. I’ve got this house I need to sell.”

“The one in Upstate New York?” he asked, taking a sip of wine. Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

“How do you know about that?”

“Oh, well when I got out of hell I kinda followed you for a few days.”

“Like a creeper.”

“Yes, like a creeper,” he smirked at her before growing serious. “When the bell rang and a door out of hell appeared I saw Mystic Falls…I saw you.”

“Me?”

“You were wearing jogging clothes. You were driving passed the Grill. I went for it and ended up in there. Just missed you,” he held his thumb and index finger apart.

Bonnie snorted. “So you could have suddenly appeared in my car? I would have crashed.”

“Surprise! Smoking suit and everything,” he laughed and sighed. “After that I went to your house. Saw you with him. Elmo,” his jaw clenched and his eyes flicked to the blood necklace. “That’s super creepy you know that?” he said and she rolled her eyes, preparing to leave.

“Says the stalker. You know if you put a foot out of line I can rip down everything you have?”

“I’m sure you think I deserve it, despite what I’ve done here,” he said with a muted smile as she got to her feet.

“They think you’re a hero but I know the truth. You don’t do shit for anyone unless you get something out of it.”

“Right, sure, believe what you want.”

“I will,” she put her purse over her shoulder, standing there. She should walk away but his eyes fixed on hers kept her still. “You saved those kids because the alternative was going back to the prison world. You’d do anything to avoid that.”

He sat back, food forgotten. “You’re right I would do anything to avoid that. Can you, who actually knows what it’s like, blame me?” he asked, jaw clenching as he leaned forward. “We both know if I wanted to I could have disappeared the moment they got me out. You know why I didn’t?”

“No.”

“You.”

“What do I have to do with this?”

“Everything. You remember the last thing Damon said to me before he died?” he asked suddenly, making her blink.

“…He said that it was possible. I didn’t understand what he meant.” Damon, old and grey, had looked between her and Kai before they had left him to die with Elena. He had made a grudging sort of peace with the Gemini witch.

“He thought I could be redeemed by doing good, that it was possible to be forgiven. He was a fucking idiot thinking I ever wanted his. He got that at the end.”

Bonnie stared at Kai’s intense eyes, noting the tension in his shoulders and arms before she scoffed. “You want my forgiveness? Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you played that trick on me?”

Kai looked aside, nostrils flaring, before glaring at her. “I’m not looking for another knife in the back. It wasn’t a trick then and it’s not now. You never gave me a chance,” his hard gaze softened into regret.

“I don’t owe you anything. You want to prove yourself? Do it but don’t look to me for a reward,” she stepped back and he growled in frustration, getting to his feet.

“I don’t care about goody points Bonnie. I’ve been given so many chances, I should be dead right now but I’m here. You could have killed me but instead you stuck me in a prison world.”

Bonnie spun around. “Because you were the only one who could wake Elena!”

“Which I did! My purpose to you was spent, right? You could have destroyed the ascendant after that, made it impossible for anyone to get me out…but you didn’t. You couldn’t.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“You hold onto things Bonnie, you can’t let go and for some messed up reason I’m one of those things.”

Bonnie laughed, fingers touching the blood pendant. “I keep this because I loved him. I kept the ascendant because I hate you. Actually I don’t even feel that because that would be a waste of energy. You mean nothing to me.”

He shook his head. “If that were true you’d have forgotten about it. Whatever you feel it’s not indifference. Take it from a former sociopath,” he gave a weak half smile but it faded. Bonnie said nothing for some time, just continued to stare at him until he looked aside.

“I want this to be clear okay? I don’t like you. At all. Stay here, start a new life and if you honestly want to turn over a new leaf then do it…but don’t expect me to care. I’m leaving. We’re strangers from this point on. You no longer exist.”

Kai gazed at her, a penetrating, drinking stare that made her heartbeat race before he smirked and sat back down at the table. He picked up his knife and fork and continued eating, looking at his plate. Bonnie stood still until he looked back up, his eyebrows rising.

“Oh you’re still here? Wait can you even see me? I don’t exist so you better go ignore me over there. You’re kinda ruining your super serious moment.”

“Screw you.”

“Oops, talking to a person who’s not really here, not a good sign.”

“Choke on your $100 fillet,” she grumbled as she finally walked away.

“By Bonnie. See you soon.”

#bonkai #my fics

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kaispen · 5 years

Text

2.14.19 11:57 p.m.

It is Valentine’s Day.

I am turning 44 this year. A double digit number.

On my first double digit year, a lot happened. My father was incarcerated for illegal possession of firearms. My grandmother languished in a slow death that started with a stroke which rendered her bedridden. Next came the excruciating pain of bedsores, a result of poor or nonexistent care. Two days after this Valentine’s, my grandmother died. On this same year, my skin asthma was at its worst. I was a pariah at school, mercilessly and maliciously teased for the oozing wounds that heal and be replaced by new ones – the umbrella term these days for that it is bullying… many a time had I wanted to die. But I lived through it. This was the year that I locked eyes over the campfire with the most popular boy in school. I told myself – ok, just five minutes… give yourself five minutes to have a crush on him. I was eleven.

When I was twenty-two, I was in love with a poet. A few weeks ago, almost twenty-two years later, I decimated volumes of poems we exchanged through our year together. We were freshwater springs of dreams and verses, our love flowing from pen to paper to post offices across the distance that separated us. As I fed our hearts to the shredder, I felt the pain of each letter, not only of the massacre of the machine, but of the betrayal of the years… my betrayal, not his. I betrayed him, our dreams, our love… I failed… I proved Shakespeare wrong… my feelings, though strong, were not love… and it brought me shame.

Thirty-three, I was in a romantic limbo. The Valentine’s when I was thirty-two, my paramour – the musician - sent me Hello Kitty Japan presents (a beautiful plush pillow, a stationery set, and a pink eco bag) that made me glow with happiness. I turned down my soul mate who had finally decided to ask me to be his girlfriend – all because of my paramour. But at thirty-three, our romance had soured. Mine and paramour’s. I use the word with accuracy. Paramour - a lover, an illicit partner of a married person. For one, both of us were married to different persons (but had since separated from our spouses long before “us”) – and beyond that, he had a girlfriend, an official one, while he was wooing me. When his girlfriend left him, we did become “official” but briefly so. Happiness and peace were not ours, so as was customary to his style, he moved forward without so much an official notice. While I waited in limbo – withering in heartbreak and yet another defeat in “love”. My son was ten years old.

I am not yet forty-four, but this Valentine’s is much more easygoing than the past ones. My last love interest – the soldier whom I though was my Steve Trevor called quits on me last December. Answered prayer, I was not broken by the “break up”… I didn’t even know we had a relationship! I had studied my relationship patterns as I got to know the soldier (who was an intense fascination for nine months) and concluded that I never went beyond romance. True love was too hard to do. Platitudes and pretty poetry were easy. Perseverance in dull moments was not too hard. But seeing through each other through disagreements was hard. And when he said it was over, I couldn’t have breathed a greater sigh of relief.

So this Valentine’s Day, I greeted my son who is now nineteen. I told him, “Happy birthday to your papa, too.”

I heard mass early this morning, and heard what I’d so often heard – that love is not romantic – if you want to love truly, go visit and comfort the sick and dying.

After mass, I had breakfast at McDonald’s with my favorite breast friend (who happened to attend the same mass). We shrieked with delight when we saw two pigeons walk along with us, resting from their flights; we shrieked with even more delight when we saw from our second floor window, a man in an office barong, wearing wayfarers, looking as fresh as the new day, walking, perhaps to the office, with a bouquet of bright colored flowers in hand.

Then, I went on a business visit to a new tita, a seventy-year old widow, my leader in the Prayer and Life Workshop. Over chitchat that was here and there as all chitchats go, she expressed how much she missed her husband (who was her partner in the first Prayer and Life Workshop I attended). How I felt that longing for the person she called father, brother, best friend, lover. Life’s problems were easier to bear because with him they were shared. I could feel the decades of love behind the energy in her voice. My heart aches now.

My next task was to turn in the first application letter and resume I’d passed in decades.

Then I had lunch of dimsum at the grocery. The friend I met for lunch gave a rose, just so I won’t go zero.

I spent the evening watching a string orchestra concert. I was among titas. Twice, the tango music from Scent of a Woman was played – once for a ballet performance, second, by the string orchestra. It’s now in my playlist.

Then I had dinner at a Korean-inspired fastfood by myself – this, inspired by the Kdramas I’ve been watching one after the other over the past three weeks.

Then I walked home.

Love is patient. Love is kind.

Romance is not always necessarily love. It may lead to love, but it can also be seek its own advantage and can be conceited.

This year, the only love I’m having this Valentine’s is the love is kind kind of love.

And it’s better than all the other exaggerated Valentine’s I’ve had in the past. And that’s all that matters right now.

And this is not yet my forty-fourth. I hope this year, Valentine's will be extra special, gentle, and memorable for you.

#romance #valentine's day

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whitequeenasitbgan · 4 years

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The House of Smoke and Fog

Cap 4

November, 1916

During the Somme battle and through the winter months, the Germans created a fortification behind the Noyon Salient that would be called the Hindenburg Line. This line of fortifications ran from Arras south to St Quentin. British long-range reconnaissance aircraft first spotted the construction of the Hindenburg Line in November 1916

-follow me- Crawley said. And Blake followed, as if Crawley was his big brother. He missed Jow more than anything now.

It was their first mission. They didn’t know it, but they were in the middle of what History would have called the Battle of the Ancre. It was the last big British operation of the year, Blake thought: the weather would have kept both sides occupied for a couple of months. He didn’t want to disappoint anybody. He wasn’t happy to be there, but that’s where he wanted to be: it felt strange, as if his body and his mind always wanted opposite things.

The first attack on Serre failed, although a brigade of the 31st Division, which had attacked in the disaster of 1 July, took its objectives before being withdrawn later. After 5 days, Blake and Crawley were following their mates: their unit was ordered to support the Canadian 4th division. They had conquered Regina Trench. Their next target was Desire Support Trench.

-always look ahead, keep your eyes opened for the Boches.

-never look away, got it- Tom said. Erin’s face coming to his mind: ‘never look away’ was how she said goodbye to him every time they parted.

Good luck, Tom.

Good luck, Cro

-silence now- whispered the Sargent Barnes.

That’s how it began.

By the end of the battle, Blake was sitting in the mud, covered in blood. He couldn’t even know if it was his blood or someone else’s: the barbed wire had trapped him right after they went out of their trench. He almost got killed because of it. He almost immediately lost Crawley. When they finally got the Desire Support Trench, the Canadians moved forward. The commanders ordered to go ahead and gain as much land they could. It was a massacre. They met a fortification, trench made of solid concrete. The Hindenburg Line. They withdrew, and finally rested as the day was coming to an end and the rain started falling.

-they knew it was there, they knew about the line, they must have seen it from the planes, they’ve been flying over it for days. What was the purpose of moving forward? We’ve lost more men trying to Go back here, then conquering two trenches. Bloody bastards

Soldiers were complaining all around Blake. He was unusually silent. Unusually dark. Unusually lost. Crawley’s body was right in front of him. His face deformed by a bullet that ended his life. He had never lost Blake. He was always there right behind him. ‘Sorry, mate. I can’t fallow you where you’re going now’, he whispered.

His memory went back to when he told him about Erin that past summer, while they were in training, smoking Crawley last cigars under an incredibly uncomfortable tree.

-what happened then?- Crawley asked -how did you get from I love you to not even writing to each other.

He genuinely wanted to know. And Blake told him everything

-on 1916 some politician came up with this Military Service Act, which would have introduced conscription later on that same ear. No one else wanted to volunteer anymore. The government had finally realised they were running out of men. I was running out of time, instead. It was my last chance to enlist and prove I was no less than my brother, no less than those who were fighting. My last chance to prove I wasn’t a coward. How was I supposed to go to college , go on with my life and get a job? Who would have ever employed a coward? And without a job I had no future, nothing to offer to Erin. Nothing. So I enlisted. You can imagine how my mother reacted. She rushed to Church in tears. She spent the whole day there, praying. I guess she met Erin on her way back home from school. She noticed something was wrong. My mom tried to dissimulate, but she’s always been a bad liar. She’s like an open book. Erin followed her home. I had just finished to pick up the last cherries in my mother’s orchard. I used to do it with Joe. It was our thing. I wanted to finish it before I left. And then I heard her voice, like a whisper behind me. She wasn’t crying she sounded more as if she was breathless. As if her lungs were collapsing under a weight she couldn’t bear.

-it’s true, then. You really did it- she said.

I couldn’t bear to look at her. She was so beautiful, even in anger. Her white dress and the cherry blossoms were one whole. She was there, right in front of me, all dressed in white. I didn’t want to leave. I only wanted to take her to Church and marry her. But I couldn’t.

-I knew it - she kept saying. I tried to approach her, but she pulled me away.

-I knew three years would have been too much for you. I expected you to fall for some other girl, I could have understand that. I’m not a beauty and I am not easy, I’ll give you that. But I’ve never imagined you would have given up on me for rifle. A. BLOODY. RIFLE- she screamed, hitting me. She wanted to hurt me, I think but at the same time she did nothing too harmful. She could have gone for the head. Kick me in the ass. Punched me. I would have never reacted and she knew it. But she didn’t truly hurt me. She was just venting her anger.

-I hope you will survive, Tom Blake. And that you will spend the rest of your days on this earth with your precious baionette, cause if it’s mental you prefer, then metal you shall have. I’ve never thought you could have the courage to kill a man, and I admired that. But I suppose I was wrong, you’re just like everyone else. I thought you were just being a bit of a blowhard when you talked about how much you’d have enjoyed to kick some boches’ asses and get your big brother home again. But you weren’t. You were serious. Just like everyone else. Go then. Get married with your rifle. I hope it will take care of you in the years to come, cause I won’t for sure. I will go on with my life, just as planned, wether peace will come or not. I will live. Not survive, waiting for someone who picked death over me. And when you’ll be there, in the mud of a trench, among the rats Joe talked to you about, don’t you even dare to think about me. I won’t be there with you, you won’t be in my thoughts. I won’t wait for you, looking at the horizon like a pathetic shell of a woman you can read a bout in a shoddy novel. For three years We kept telling each other to keep our eyes on our future, to keep going forward, you even like when I tell you ‘never look away’ more than when I say ‘I love you’... you lied to me, you BASTARD! You’ve been looking away the whole time. To bloody French trench. I am so angry with you for not saying anything... you should have told me you wanted to enlist. You should have told me

-And then? What happened then?- Crawley asked.

-she caressed my cheek one last time. She struggled, as if I was fire. She almost couldn’t touch me. And then she walked away. I tried to follow her, but she told me to not to. And the way she did it hurted me more than anything else, cause I was hurting her just by being there. As if my presence was stabbing her. I followed her from afar, then. She didn’t notice me. I made sure she reached her home safe. I watched as she disappeared behind he door. That was the last time I saw her. I went by her door every night, before I left, hoping to see her shape in the backlight of her bedside table’s lamp. She used to leave it on for me, sometimes, as a sign. And I used to climb over the porch, get in by her window and sleep with her. But this time she didn’t turn the light on.

-I see... did you ever think about writing to her?

-all the time. There’re so many things I’d like to tell her

-but ?

-but she doesn’t even want me to think about her, how on earth could I dare to write her? She asked me not to, and I must respect that.

-you must... uhm. What did she mean by ‘you even like more when I tell you to never look away, than when I say I love you’?

-it was just a thing I had... I didn’t like to say I love you. I meant it, but I didn’t want to say it.

-You lost me

-how can I explain it... everyone says I love you. It’s on war postcards, unknown women working in helmets factory write it on an old piece of newspaper and hide the note inside it, lovers at the train station, actors in movies, characters in books, everybody says I love you. Many times they’re lying. Or faking it. You can even find it on Valentine’s pralines. I don’t want to express my feelings for Erin by saying something you can chew. We had our secret tongue, Erin and I. One day she was comforting me, cause I had panicked for my finals, I felt like a good for nothing and she told me ‘when you’re scared, think about all the amazing things that are waiting for you. Keep your eyes on your future. How could you be a good for nothing? You can succeed at something everyone else’s failed: making me happy. Remember: Never look away’. And it just clicked my mind. From then on that’s how I told her I loved her.

-just write her that

-she would burn the letter.

-mate, I’ve been married for a decade. Listen to me. Write.

Cap 5

https://whitequeenasitbgan.tumblr.com/post/611703492595335168/the-house-of-smoke-and-fog

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debra2007-blog · 7 years

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THE TRUTH ABOUT ST. VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

(What's LOVE got to do with it?) "God is love" 1st John 4:8 February 12, 2017 To the surprise of many, Valentine's Day isn't an innocent secular holiday; in fact the true origins of Valentine's day has it's roots in the occult. Namely in the pagan worship of Baal, the . The religion of Babylon (Baal worship) is the mother of most false religions and its influence is still felt world wide, including in today's churches.

sun god LUPERCALIA {the feast of Lupercus, the mighty wolf hunter}. The ancient Roman celebration of Lupercalia was held in honor of Lupercus, the deified great hunter of Rome. This celebration also included worship of the goddess of fertility, Venus. In Roman mythology this goddess of fertility and sexual immortality, had a son called Cupid. Cupid was said to have attended to her and was given power to cause love to begin and to cease. This celebration was held from the 14th through the 15th of February. Some of the events of this pagan holiday included the choosing of partners by chance; in which teen aged girls would place their names into a box. The names were then drawn out by young men. The girl whose name was drawn then became the sexual partner with the man for the upcoming year; beginning in March during the Fertility rites of the Spring Equinox.

Rome's Lupercalia more than likely began as part of the Babylonian festival of Oimbolc. Oimbolc celebrates mid-winter (the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox) and the return of the Sun. Beginning February 2nd candles were lit to welcome the sun and the women began their purification process for the upcoming fertility rites of spring. The Catholic Church also adopted this custom from Irish pagans who served the 'goddess' whom they called "Brigit". The Roman Catholic Church now calls her Saint Brigit, the patron saint of , poetry and healing. They now call Oimbolc, the "smith craft"; in which they celebrate the end of the Virgin Mary's Purification. Secular society keeps the tradition of 'Groundhog's day' on the 2nd of February, where the presence of the Sun represents the continuance of winter for an additional six weeks.

Candle Mass NIMROD (Baal) and ASHTORETH (Queen of Heaven). The Greek called Lupercus by the name of "Pan", the Semites called Pan "Baal". Baal which is mentioned several times in the bible, is merely another name for Nimrod "the mighty hunter" (Genesis 10:8-9). Nimrod was the original Lupercus,and we know that Nimrod was a mighty man who built great cities, including Babel (Genesis 10:10). Not only was Nimrod the ruler of Babel, but he was also the high priest of a satanic occult.When Nimrod finally died, the Babylonian mystery religion continued on through his wife, Queen Semiramis. Upon Nimrod's death, she deified him as the Sungod. In various cultures he later became known as Baal, the Great Life Giver, the god of fire, Baalim, Bel, and Molech.

Later when Queen Semiramis gave birth to an illegitimate son, she claimed that he was Nimrod reborn, Nimrod Tammuz by name. She claimed that he was the promised seed of God (Genesis 3:15), the savior. Semiramis became the mediator between man and this "god", you had to pray through her to reach him. So Nimrod was deified as the god of the sun, Queen Semiramis became the Queen of Heaven, the goddess of the moon and fertility; and Nimrod Tammuz became the savior in this satanic babylonian religion.

Another name for Nimrod Tammuz was Cupid, which means Desire. Queen Semaramis lusted after her son, and soon they were married. As Nimrod Tammuz grew, the child "god", became the hero of many women, who desired him. This cupid provoked so many women to jealousy that the idol of Tammuz was called the Idol "image" of Jealousy (Ezekiel 8:5,,8:14). In the Babylonian tongue the word heart was pronounced "Bal", In the depictions of Tammuz the heart shaped fruit of Persea was often found in his hand. Thus Tammuz became known as the god of the heart.

How did this pagan celebration become a christian tradition? As with most non-biblical customs found in the church today, Lupercalia was simply given a christian sounding name and adopted into the "universal" Catholic Church. They done this to make it easy on the pagan converts who were coming into the new popular christiananity. These pagans were unwilling to give up their satanic rituals, so instead of putting an hault to the growing paganism of the church, the Romans took the approach of "Blend and incorporate".

It was Pope Gelasius who in 496 A.D. changed Lupercalia to St. Valentine's day. {The word Valentine comes from the latin word valentinus, a name derived from Valens, meaning: To be Mighty "strong". The name Valentinus was very common in Rome.} Pope Gelasius took the stories of several catholic "Valentines" and evolved them into one "Saint Valentine". This so called 'Saint Valentine' has now become the patron saint of lovers in the Catholic faith and the prayers of troubled lovers are under his jurisdiction.

Conclusion: Lupercalia survives still today under the allias of "Valentine's Day"; This pagan holiday is still celebrated nearly world wide by christians and non-christians alike, and Nimrod Tammuz is still honored as the "god of the heart"; even prayers are directed to him by unsuspecting Catholics who foolishly call upon 'Saint Valentine'.

But GOD says: Take heed to thyself that thou be not snared by following them, after that they be destroyed from before thee; and that thou inquire not after their gods, saying, "How did these nations serve their gods? even so will I do likewise." Thou shalt not do so unto the Lord thy God: For every abomination to the Lord, which he hateth, have they done unto their gods; for even their sons and their daughters they have burnt in the fire to their gods. (Deuteronomy 12:30-31).

You can call a dog a dove but it's still a dog. Changing the name of a pagan ritual doesn't change the fact that it is still a pagan ritual. 2nd Corinthians 15-16, asks us, What concord (agreement) has Christ with Belial (Baal)? or What agreement hath the temple of God with idols? NONE friends, God is a jealous God, a Holy God, and he will not mix with devils. Many would rather keep this babylonian tradition than to keep the simple commandments of God. Jesus called the pharisees who kept the traditions over the commandments hypocrites and said they worshipped him in vain (Mark 7:6-9).

The whole world has been deceived by this false religion (Revelation 12:9); nations and churches alike are fallen captive to this Mystery Babylon (Revelation 17:5). I urge all of you to inquire about the traditions and customs that are handed down to you; discern them and see if they be of God or not. If they are not found in the bible, avoid them. God has said, "What thing I command you, observe to do it: thou shalt not add thereto, nor diminish from it." (Deuteronomy 12:32). Just because the name sounds christian doesn't mean it is; we have seen how easy it is to take something that is pure evil; and change the name and make it appear good.

2nd Corinthians 11:13-15, For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ. And no marvel; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light. Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers also be transformed as the ministers of righteousness; whose end shall be according to their works.

2nd Corinthians 6:17-18, Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.

Truth About Valentines Day ?? - Untold History https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-EPGZRGE1dY

What Was The St. Valentines Day Massacre of 1929? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iC2FZO0hoNA

St. Valentine's Day - The part of the story you never heard - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbcFitQ54iI

The Truth about Valentine's Day WTC (2008) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2i9s3sthlSo

Christians do not celebrate St. Valentine’s Day!

Our Hearts Belongs to Yeshua the Messiah!!!

Have a blessed day and weekend. May Yeshua the Messiah bless you, Love,Debbie

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