like in places bruises should not be

RP starters: Concern.
  • “It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!”
  • “Stop keeping your phone in silent, you got me worried!”
  • “Blood? Are you bleeding?”
  • “I don’t like the idea of you walking down the streets all alone.”
  • “I thought I would never see you again…”
  • “We should get you to hospital.”
  • “Where did all those bruises came from?”
  • “I have the right to be worried!”
  • “Have you been drinking? You look terrible.”
  • “Sleep at my place tonight.”
  • “I don’t feel safe letting you be alone when you’re in that shape.”
  • “Please talk to me about it.”
  • “Let me take care of you.”
  • “You need to rest now. Don’t move.”
  • “How many times have I told you to not go there?”
  • “You could’ve died, you know…”
  • “I don’t care if you don’t want my help, I’ll do it anyways.”
  • “You really need to stop drinking. I’m serious.”
  • “This time you got yourself into a hospital. I think that’s a sign.”
  • “Are you sure you’re okay?”
  • “You need to stop doing stupid shit like that or you will get yourself killed.”
  • “I’m your friend, of course I care!”
  • “You know I’m always here for you, right?”
  • “You’re not okay.”
  • “I’m just trying to help you.”
  • “Let me clean your wounds…”
  • “Why did you do it? Tell me.”
like any good student, I want to see Rome burn.
I want to see dynasties fall
and for hot ashes to swallow up my feet while towers wilt around me.
I want whiplash claws to rake my spine
and Jocasta’s pins in my eyes;
too big for my skin,
with all of history’s charred pages stuffed down my throat.
I want to scream and see the flood come thundering,
to turn to stone so that legacies might be carved into my flesh.
there should be runes on my ribs
and bruises up my neck,
because you shouldn’t kiss too many emperors, not like that.
the earth should be heaving up around me with an army’s fevered approach,
I should be ripping cobblestones out from under a monarchy
and taking my place in the palace.
like any good student, I want to drink poison and taste the ages,
and I want more than this.
—  more than this, by a student who wants to tear up his textbooks. (x)
2

“After a game, it takes a half hour under the showerhead to get all the hairspray out. To peel off all the sequins. To dig out that last bobby pin nestled deep in your hair. Sometimes you stand under the hot gush for so long, looking at your body, counting every bruise. Touching every tender place. Watching the swirl at your feet, the glitter spinning. Like a mermaid shedding her scales. You’re really just trying to get your heart to slow down. You think, This is my body, and I can make it do things. I can make it spin, flip, fly. After, you stand in front of the steaming mirror, the fuchsia streaks gone, the lashes unsparkled. And it’s just you there, and you look like no one you’ve ever seen before. You don’t look like anybody at all.”

You’ve Changed. (PART 2)

– Requested.–

part 1


“ Isaac get her to the hospital. I’ll deal with Erica.”

I can feel a pain in my leg that is like nothing I’ve ever felt. My back feels like it is in a million pieces. I can feel a million scratches and bruises all over my body but it all means nothing.

What was Erica? She looked like something out of a Goosebumps book. My mind is rambling and all of my thoughts are interrupted by a distant beeping.

It gets louder and louder until it is being drowned by the sound of Isaac’s voice.

“ I should have been there to save her Derek. It’s my fault that she was there in the first place. Why did I ask Erica to see her? On the night before the full moon?” I can hear how distraught he is.

The full moon? 

“ Erica has been dealt with. We need to get back, your first full moon is tonight. Melissa will call you if she wakes up okay?” Derek’s voice has a sense of reason amidst everyone in the room.

“ Okay.” Isaac mumbles out, leaving a kiss on my head before fleeing the room.


“ Isaac you need to concentrate!” Derek screams at him from the subway car.

 Isaac in turn just growls at him. He breaks out of what was holding him ready to charge.

“ Isaac, find an anchor.” Derek begins.

“Something meaningful to you; bind yourself to it and keep to your human side and in control.”

Isaac ran out of the subway cart and paced around outside, contemplating Derek words.

His mind immediately went to (Y/N).

He pictured all the times they had spent in her room cuddling and watching stupid 80′s movies. Running her soft hair through his calloused fingers.

He pictured her smiling as they sat in her car in the parking lot of McDonalds. She is singing loudly to Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey. 

Isaac is snapped back to reality when he hears the struggle in the subway car.

He suddenly feels a sense of control, no longer being controlled by the full moon.

He makes his way back in to see Derek struggling with the two betas. Everything inside of Isaac tells him to go rip Erica’s head off for hurting (Y/N).

He just remembers the picture of his girlfriend in perfect health and realizes that Erica will get what is coming to her.

He helps Derek to restrain Boyd and Erica. 

“ You found anchor.” Derek states simply and looks over to Isaac.

“ (Y/N).” He states simply, not feelings like he needed to elaborate. 

Derek apparently understood that and didn’t make another remark, just nodding his head softly.

Everything is interrupted by Isaac’s phone ringing.

It was Melissa telling him that (Y/N) woke up.

And with that Isaac was out the door.


“ Hi babe.” Isaac says softly as he grabs my hand in his.

“ Hey Lahey.” I let out a weak smile and squeeze his hand.

“ You broke your promise, you told me you wouldn’t change too much while I was gone.” A soft chuckle passes his lips and a sad look falls onto his face.

“ I’m so sorry (Y/N). If I would have known what Erica was going to do I never would have let her come near you.” The tears build up in his eyes. 

“ Hey, hey. This was not your fault. Don’t you ever think that this was your fault. This was Erica’s doing and you couldn’t have known that she was going to do this. I love you Isaac Lahey.” I pull him in for a soft kiss.

We both needed this, it brought comfort and a sense of home. The warm feelings rose up in my chest and my heart fluttered.

“ I love you (Y/N) (L/N).” He rests his head close to mine and closes his eyes slightly.

I close mine too and I suddenly remember all the weird shit I had seen, now feeling the need to bring it up.

“ Just cause i’m tired doesn’t mean that you won’t be telling me everything that happened with your dad when I wake up.” I mumble out.

“ Sounds good to me babe.” He smiles slightly, resting his hand on his chin watching his girlfriend falling asleep peacefully.

“ Also what the hell is wrong with Erica.” My sleepy state mumbles out what I think is an incoherent sentence.

Isaac chuckles and swipes a piece of hair out of her face.

“ Alright babe.Just go to sleep, we’ll talk about this all when you wake up.

And I fall asleep with the love of my life next to me, wounds covering my body; but I don’t care.


– I hope you all enjoyed Part 2 of You’ve Changed. this was so fun to write so thanks to the anon who sent in the request! My requests and ships are open! Thanks for reading ! I love you all! :) –

That Awful Month When I Can Only Write Poems About Leaving, And/Or About Limp Bizkit

I.

What I need you to know
about The Leaving
is that it will always feel like a toddler’s art project—
something done messily
with clumsy, filthy hands.

Everyone will tell you
how impressive it all is,
and how proud you should be,
as they place their clean palms
to their un-bruised chests
and stick The Leaving
up on the fridge.

And you will pack everything you own
into eleven boxes you stole
from the back of the grocery store
and move into an empty house
where you still flinch every time you hear a door open,
even if you are the one opening the door,
and you will stare at this muddle of paint
that is the rest of your life, and wonder–
what the fuck is this even supposed to be?

II.

Months later,
immediately after breaking down
in the Urgent Care lobby when you realize
“Name of Emergency Contact”
is a question you no longer know the answer to,
Limp Bizkit will come on the radio,
and somehow everything will be so much worse
than it was before the biscuit was limp,
and the child in the chair across from you
will start screaming
and covering her ears,
which seems entirely appropriate given the circumstances,
and you know that this image
would have made him laugh for hours,
and for a moment it is like he is right there,
and you will smile
until your cheekbone starts to ache
and you check the mirror
for bruising.

III.

I haven’t cooked chicken in four months.
The meat thermometer
ended up in one of his boxes,
and I have never been able to tell
just by looking
when something is finished.
I have terrible instincts about what is unsafe.
This is not a metaphor.
I am really afraid of food poisoning,
and I know that given an oven
and enough time
I would cook the chicken
until it was black and ashy,
and this is not a metaphor.
This is not about the way that my mother
taught me to check if meat was done,
by stabbing my knife into the thickest part,
not about how I didn’t even hear the timer go off
until the entire kitchen was on fire.
He seemed like such a nice guy,
everyone says,
as I tell them my new address,
as if you can tell from outside an oven
if the meat inside is poison.

IV.

I used to imagine all the time
what his ex-wife thought about me, and
she never knew my name.
Had no idea
the way I climbed inside his body
and convinced myself it was a place that I could live in,
but I thought of her constantly,
like a ghost that lived in our house.

That night that we fought about leaving the lights on,
the night that he threw the flour jar
and it exploded on the wall next to me,
I said I was sorry,
and then went into the bathroom,
and my entire body was covered in flour.
I remember thinking,
I look just like a ghost.
Just like a ghost that lives in our house.

And I laughed
and I laughed
and I laughed.

My Dove: A Spencer Reid Imagine

A/N: Sorry, was out of the house. This is a request for Y/N being damaged by a previous violent relationship, but Spencer and her manage to take it all the way, and he’s supportive. 

Rating: 18A

Warnings: Smut, and telling of violent past relationship.

Imagine…

His hand was heavy on your skin, his words were heavy on your ears, his look was heavy on the eyes, he was heavy. Not in the literal meaning, but in a sense of the word, and in the end, it had left you heavy-hearted and broken. 

Relationships should be full of trust, care, kindness, acceptance and understanding. Relationships should be equal, emotionally balanced, treated with respect and spent with the one who makes your world a better place. 

This was what the therapist of your support group had said, it seemed like her mantra, as she stood at the podium like some hypocrite, well placed clothing and accessories hiding ever bruise and scar. But she was your best friend, the first person that you’d opened up to, and the only person who was still stuck in her abusive relationship out of the crew of seven girls, and three men at the support centre. 

You remember walking in that first night, soaked through with rain water and sweat, part of your sweater stained with “spaghetti sauce”, and barely able to stand on your own. 

She had been in the midst of setting up, her beautifully done hair was braided to the side, covering a darkening mark on her inner neck, when you had finally dropped to your knees on the hard floor. 

A sob had ripped through you, like there was another woman inside who was tearing out, leaving you to be alone, and as you cried out on the floor, she’d dropped the tray of napkins and sprinted to your aid. 

Her hands were soft and gentle, her voice was smooth and soft, like warm honey, and she had held you close to her, never batting an eye.

“You’re safe when you’re with us, we are one, we are many” your damp clothes had left watermarks on her dress and skin, but she didn’t care. Aleese was your angel, and over four years, she became so much more than the woman who picked you off of a basement floor and dried you. 

You look back on that night with the best and worst of memories. Your life was saved that night, and that was no exaggeration. 

A year into your relationship with your last boyfriend, you’d realized that you needed to get out, and you needed to get out as soon as possible. He shifted all of the responsibility onto you, and if you slipped in the least, you were left searching for the last shred of your pride, and some more cover up.

You were tortured, that was the best and most proper way to put it, and there was no way around it.

It started with little things, like him raising his voice to a deafening bellow when you didn’t do what he asked, or you didn’t refer to him as “sir” when it was the two of you.

It progressed into verbal abuse, you were a “worthless cunt” and a “no good bitch” when you didn’t make his shower the proper temperature, or you made dinner that he said he wanted, but then didn’t. 

You can still remember the day that he first hit you.You had done everything right that day, and when night had fallen, he’d tossed you a one piece lingerie and snarled at you to go put it on. He wanted a release, and that meant he’d get one. 

You had struggled to slide into it, but you’d managed, and even done up all of the straps by yourself, until it came to one last zipper. It wouldn’t budge. 

Struggling with it wasn’t an option, he wanted sex and he wanted it now, not later. He was already yelling, and the nighbours’ kitchen light was visible from the bathroom window. 

“There’s a zipper sir, and it’s stuck” your voice was quiet and filled with terror as he glared at you, in one fluid movement he’d crossed the bedroom and thrown the bathroom door open. 

It caught you against your cheek and nose, striking your shoulder too, and as you fell you’d hit your side off of the bathtub. 

“Did I tell you to speak? You’re so fucking stupid you can’t figure out a zipper? Jesus Christ Y/N, you’re a disgraceful mess” the words were dripping with venom as he pulled back and sucker punched you square in the jaw. 

Struggling to remain conscious, you’d stumbled back, dazed and terrified as he’d grabbed you by your hair and dragged you to the bed. The rest was a mystery you didn’t know. 

But that was then, and as you stare at the canvas that is your skin, scarred and freckled, you feel your breath hitch in your throat. 

Burn marks, the long and misshapen lines of knives or glass, you could almost picture your ribs still covered in the yellow-blue cover of an almost healed bruise, a colour that was easier to cover than the deep an resilient purple he so often painted on you. 

But that was then, and this was now. 

You’re panicking, you know you are, and as you wipe at your eyes and face, you notice how pale you’ve become. 

Your naked body wasn’t something you showed to people, not since him, and not yet to your current boyfriend. It was time though, to let yourself be free once more, to open your body, and more importantly your soul, to the loving of a decent and humane being. 

As you run fingers over your hips and thighs, you can hear him patiently moving things around, he coughs every so often, but he never says a word. 

With fear, shame, and anxiety built in your system, you pull open the bathroom door agonizingly slowly and start to hyperventilate as you cross the room towards him. 

He watches you with the gaze of a sympathetic and understanding man, his eyes are full of sorrow, but his body is so clearly filled with lust, and you reach out to him with shaking hands. 

“You’re beautiful” he murmurs, standing from the chair and reaching back out towards you. You flinch away, a cry in your throat, but he takes it with a grain of salt and carefully takes your hand. 

You pull away at first, but eventually let him take it, and he runs it over his shirt. You can feel the beat of his heart underneath the thin fabric, and you try to time your breathing with it. 

“We don’t have to do this, I can wait, I will always wait” he’s hushed, and you will your quivering skin to take hold of the buttons, and slowly start undoing them.

“I can do it” you mumble, you’re clumsy and scared but you persevere until the shirt falls away from him, leaving the thin, yet toned, body bare to you.

He takes his belt and pants, saving you the embarrassment of trying to work your hands over them, and he’s so gentle and soft spoken when the two of you finally stand bare skin to skin for the first time. 

“You can still change your mind” you know he means well, but by the obvious hormones rushing through the two of you, there’s no return at this point, and you wouldn’t put him through that.

“No, just.. Please..” you can’t find the proper words, and he just nods, your hand still in his as he leads you to the bed, and lays you down among the pillows and soft, satin sheets. 

He’s careful as he kisses your forehead, both of your eyelids, both cheeks, and eventually your lips.

You can feel warmth start to drive you wild, and yet at the same time, you feel on the brink of tears. “I love you” he whispers after each kiss, his breath growing hotter and hotter as he makes his way down your chest, over both breasts, and down the center line of your stomach. 

“You’re doing so well, I love you” he kisses your left inner thigh, and then your right, and you have to fight yourself to keep your legs spread and give him the chance to make sex intimate, not scary. 

“Good girl” he breathes, placing one more soft kiss to your thigh, and you begin to squirm. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay my dove, I can stop” he brings himself up into your field of view once more, and you shake your head, your breath a shudder.

“No babe, don’t stop” he smiles as he pulls you to him, so that he can return the taste of your body to your own lips as he softly nips one. “You can go further, let’s go all the way”. 

You’re amazed at the words coming out of your mouth, and he nods as you lay back down, chewing at your own lip this time.

He’s slow, and keeps asking for reassurance as he slowly slides into you, and you can’t help but moan deeply as he crashed through the barrier that’s been between the two of you since you met.

There’s no fear, no screaming, no pleading or begging. It’s warm, it’s welcoming, it’s pleasurable, and it’s the two of you with bodies intertwining. 

“Oh God, Spencer please, please don’t stop” you find yourself pushing back, and he keeps a hand on your hip as his hips thrust in time with your cries. “You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you” his voice is lost in the feeling of finally becoming one. 

He keeps up the pace, and you can’t help it but move in time with him, you’re dropping your fear, and taking a hold of the fact that the two of you have made it this far. 

“Oh Dove, you’re so beautiful, you’re so good to me, I’m right here” he picks up the pace and you cry out, digging your nails into his arms as he pulls you to his sweaty chest. 

“You’re not broken, you’re whole, we’re whole, my dove”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the phrase was met with his typical light sarcasm as he leaned against the lockers. A cup of coffee in his bruised hand as he tried to fall back into place of his normal life. “A guy disappears and the half the town is acting like I got the plague and the other won’t fucking leave me alone. If I see one bouquet of flowers I’ll strange ‘em with it.” He sips his coffee, hoping they would fill the silence he so desperately needed filled. 

requested by @myownhxro @burncut & @runforrecovery

Sam takes a sip of beer and chances a look over at Dean beside him. They’re sitting on the valley the bunker door has made in the grass.

“So, what’re we doing up here?” Sam asks after patiently waiting.

The sun is setting in front of them, behind the trees, in shades of pale pink and lemonade yellow.

“Thought we’d get rid of all that heavy stuff from last night. Come out and watch the sun set like we use to,” Dean smiles, popping open a new beer.

His face is still bruised and Sam’s urge to look them over once more is mother hen like. His fingers tighten around his bottle.

“We use to do this?”

“Yeah. I’d take you to sit on the Impala when we were younger, wrap you up in a blanket and we’d wait till Dad came out and got us.”

Dean’s eyes are dreamy, happiness from another place swimming there. Sam should have worn a flannel like his brother but of course he came out in only his Henley.

“Now that I’m looking at you, I should have brought a blanket,” Dean croaks, already moving to take off his own over shirt.

“Dean, no. It’s fine, the sun is about to go down and we’ll be inside,” he argues, leaning away when his brother tries to put it over his shoulders.

Dean gets it around him, anyway, he holds both ends of the collar in one hand around Sam’s neck. They’re both stuck in each other’s faces and nature around them going into a lull, waiting for this moment as long as the two brothers have.

“Sam, I’m gonna…” Dean trails off, his eyes falling to the beer-wet pink of Sam’s mouth.

His little brother drops his bottle, crashing and shattering onto the ground below, Sam’s quivering hands coming to grip the front of his shirt.

“It’s–that’s, yes,” Sam is gasping, his face desperate.

They lean forward at the same time, faking delicacy and holding their breath when lips meet. It’s barely a press, not rough smash of teeth and tongue, enough to have Sam panting and bringing his fingers to his mouth with his eyes still closed.

It’s the cutest gesture Dean’s seen and he drinks it down and waits for Sam’s eyes to flutter open and the apple of his cheeks turn pink, the same shade of peach as the sun right now.

“One more, please, just one more,” Sam begs, mewling, tilting his head up.

Dean is cradling his head and kissing Sam harder, turning and slipping him his tongue with a grunt.

The sun sets completely and Dean is pushed back into the sticks and grass, Sam straddling him.

“Thought you said one more,” Dean whispers, nuzzling the tip of Sam’s nose.

“I’ll keep saying it, now give me one more,” Sam murmurs, pushing his hair away from his face.

He doesn’t miss the undulating of the thinner body above him, pushes up into the swivel and grind, but Sam’s eyes are still bright. He went and swallowed up the sun.

Patreon Holiday Countdown #20
Kiss Below the Waist. Dragon Age. Alistair x Roselyn Cousland 
set in @blustersquall‘s Prince!AU

“Does it hurt when I press my fingers here?” Alistair held Roselyn’s bruised ankle, shifting his fingers, gauging by her hisses and clenched fingers where it hurt the most. “It doesn’t feel like you broke anything. Try rotating it now. Yes, like that. Good.” Taking a poultice, he pressed it against her purple skin then wrapped her ankle in a bandage to hold it in place.

“Will I live?” she asked.

“Doubtful,” he said, face somber. “Bruises like that have felled Archdemons and High Dragons before. It’s a wonder you’re still talking to me now.”

She groaned in exasperation, her hand giving his shoulder a playful nudged. He laughed.

“It’ll be tender. And you shouldn’t put any weight on it, but you’ll be fine after a few days’ rest. We should keep your ankle cushioned with pillows too. You move around in your sleep enough that you’ll need the extra barrier.” He continued to cradle the injured limb against him, his thumb tracing absent circles along her uninjured skin. It made him ache to see her in pain like this. It’d been a simple fall, the smallest of accidents, but seeing the anguish in her face, hearing the barely suppressed whimper she kept clenched in her throat—it made him sick.

He cleared his throat, keeping his face on her ankle so she wouldn’t see the worries weighing on him. “I’ll make sure that the servants spoil you rotten while you’re resting; you won’t want for anything.”

“How do you know so much about all of this?”

“Remember at the tourney how I said that I’d had worse injuries before?”

She nodded.

“I usually had to patch them up myself to. A bruised ankle is a relatively simple injury by comparison, even though it may ache like a more serious wound.”

“I see…” Her free hand came up to his cheek. The touch was light, hardly there at all, and yet she managed to turn his head towards her. He almost couldn’t bear the sympathy in her eyes. She was the one in pain, not him. “You are wrong about one thing, husband.”

He frowned. “What’s that?”

“About me not wanting anything. I’ll…” Her cheeks grew faintly pink when she trailed off. “I’ll miss your company while I’m confined to bed.”

Alistair laughed at that, unable to stop his grin. “I promise to visit whenever I’m able.” He leaned down and pressed chaste kisses along the edges of the bandage until her fingers ran through his hair, causing him to lean up and kiss her lips instead. “I swear it.”

It’s the wrong place for Eli to be, only partially because it’s Syndicate territory. And he can’t say with any certainty that he’s still allowed to carry that title. If anything he shouldn’t be here because he should be out there shedding blood for his father, not pounding back shots like water as though they can help numb the bruising of his face. It leaves his head swimming, music too loud and lights too bright. It all does little to drown out that thought lurking in the back of his mind, that refuses to be shut down tonight. He could be getting high. There are enough substances passed beneath tables that he wouldn’t have to look hard to find someone willing to help him out. The thought’s derailed by someone taking the seat next to him, and he slurs a “fuck off” before reaching for another shot.

Loras had learnt a few things between returning home from the club last night and making the most rash decision of his life. He learnt that the walls of his room were easy enough to break holes in after several punches and that they left excellent bruises. He learnt that Renly had left the Mercenary soon after him, thanks to the infallible tabloids that had made the most of what they’d seen last night. He also learnt that he liked Renly Baratheon more than he’d ever liked anyone in his 20 years of living. Which was why he found himself driving to where he had been only hours before, in a much worse mood than he had been in then, despite every part of him screaming that this was a bad idea. Renly’s place was the last place he should be, he knew that seeing as they had parted on such bad terms and the fact that he was supposed to be at training an hour ago. 

There were more important things to attend to. Loras had spent all night awake curled up in the middle of his bed alternating between sobbing, screaming (with no respect for Margaery a few rooms over), trying to convince himself it was okay to tell Renly he was gay and trying to figure out how he could possibly apologise for his despicable behaviour last night. He was afraid. Afraid of letting his secret go, afraid of Renly’s reaction, afraid that Renly might not forgive him, just afraid. He parked his car a way away from Renly’s, opting to walk up the street, hood and sunglasses on, so that he didn’t get spotted but thankfully there didn’t seem to be anyone around as he approached the house. Loras’ stomach twisted in his chest as he caught sight of it, and almost turned back. He had to fix this. He had to make this right, show the courage that had left him last night. 

He imagined himself as one of the gallant knights from the stories Willas used to read to him as a kid, and managed to muster up enough courage to knock on the door. The knock was muffled by the sleeves of his jumper that had been pulled over his knuckles to hide the bruises but they were still clear. He didn’t even know if Renly would be home, let alone willing to open the door to him, but he had to try. Pulling down his hood and exposing his curls to the morning sun, Loras waited by the door, ready to step forward and take the leap of faith he needed to make to at least figure out what was going on here. 

Payback-Part 2-A Hiddleswift Fanfiction-Mature

She sipped her coffee the next day and regretted not getting a little extra creamer. He flopped down next to her and patted her leg. She elbowed him in the ribs and he grimaced.

“I already feel a bit bruised without you making it worse.” He looked down at his bare skin. “Is that a love bite?”

“Maybe. I guess I should ask you..”

“Oh, right. Well, when I was about 19 years old, I saw this adult film and I wondered if I could achieve that position.”

“No, that’s not what I meant…Wait, a minute. Is that the one where I felt like you were about to dislocate my hip?”

“No, it was the one…”

“Let’s talk about it a little later.” She placed a hand on his leg. “What I want to know is do you want to continue this after today?”

“I will say that I would not object to it but fair is fair. If you got what you wanted out of it…did you? Do you feel him anymore?”

“Emotionally. Some. We all carry our exes around with us. Physically..I will say that I probably am not going to be able to walk by my front entry or my dining room table for that matter and not get a little bit of physical reaction.”

“You wanted a midnight snack and so, did I. I defer your question to you. Do you want to continue?”

“The thing is I am so burned out. I don’t know why I am thinking of it but if people knew this was going on I would be so judged.  People are so crass about saying that I say things about being an independent woman but I can’t be without a man.”

“I know I have no place saying this as I am a man but I think that people should open up their definitions. Maybe realize that part of being independent is making your own decisions. And what is a more difficult decision than choosing to spend your life with someone.”

“God. I wish you were likable. This would be such an easy decision.”

He smiled, ran his hand down the back of head to her shoulders and massaged them momentarily.

“What do you want?”

“To see where this goes.”

“Then, that is what we will do.”

“Let’s have some ground rules. Do we do stay overs?”

“I think that should be on a case by case basis.”

“Okay, negotiable. I think we should do a two week check in rule.”

“Check in?”

“If it lasts for two weeks, we sit down and talk about if it’s still something we want and do we continue on. If someone is uncomfortable, they have an out.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Do we cuddle and have terms of endearment?”

“As much as you want, darling.”

“Sounds like an arrangement I could live with.”

They shook hands.

She burst out laughing.

“I think our time in the entertainment industry has taken the romance out of everything.”

“Oh, I will put something back in it. Give me a few more minutes to rest.”

He reclined back on the couch and closed his eyes. He remained in that position until he felt the couch shifting beside him. He opened his eyes to observe her massaging lotion into her legs. His kryptonite. He sighed.

“You are not playing fair.”

“Oh.”

She squeezed a dollop of lotion into her hands and rubbed them together. After they were sufficiently warmed, she grasped him and began to gently pull in upward motion.

“Just relax.”

“That is not exactly possible”

She manipulated him into full erection. She stood in front of him and wriggled out of her sleep shorts.

“We really need to send for new box of condoms.” She breathed as slid onto his shaft. “Relax. I’ll drive.”

She rolled her hips and attempted to keep her walls clenched around him despite her increasing arousal and inevitable orgasm. He grasped her hips and forced her to crash them up and down against his warm flesh. She heard him mumbling and eventually picked out him saying.

“Fuck…just..fuck.”

She began to slow her pace to tease him; he opened his eyes and looked askance of her. She smiled and kissed him before pulling away with a bit of his bottom lip. He growled, grabbed her hips and began meeting her rhythm with one of his own. The increased friction ended her. He saw the now familiar look in her eye and heard the familiar noise of her release and allowed himself to finish.

“Just once, I would like to see if I could make you finish first.” She smacked his bare chest.

“Ladies first. Always.”

Saturday morning, he slipped out of bed quietly to answer a call from Luke.

“So, I got a report that you were seen picking up a pizza near Taylor’s house?”

“I know. Carbs are the devil but why was this necessary to call me about?”

“People have already implied that you are the reason she ended her relationship.”

“I’m terribly flattered they think I have that much power.” He yawned and saw some interesting movements coming from Taylor’s side of the bed as he passed the bedroom door. “I have to go.”

At first, he thought she would be embarrassed she had been caught but she defiantly threw the covers back and allowed him to see. He stood in the doorway and watched for several minutes as she continued to pleasure herself. As the flush rose in her cheeks, he approached the bed.

“May I help? All you ever have to do is ask.”

“I woke up and you weren’t there and I didn’t think I could wait.”

“That sounds like an intense feeling.”

“Someone has woken up that feeling in me lately and I can’t seem to contain it sometimes.”

“We certainly cannot have that.”

He slid her legs apart after he reached her side of the bed. He kissed a line down her left thigh. His mouth hovered over her entrance and he smiled wickedly up at her. The rough texture of his tongue made her gasp. He pushed her thighs wide apart, she grasped at his hair and the sheets as she felt the first wave. She bucked against his mouth and shuddered as it collapsed all around her.

She stifled her giggles.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you should go wash your face.”

He pulled her to him after he came back to bed. Her hair had begun to curl from the sweat and she attempted to smooth it back so it wouldn’t choke him.

“Luke called me this morning to say I had been spotted in the city. He is worried that someone is going to realize we are together.”

She yawned and pulled him just a little closer.

“I have a house in Rhode Island. We could go there. Gated and private.”

They both lay silent.

“If you want…”

“Our two weeks isn’t up. I do believe we shook on it and that means we are going to Rhode Island.”

Tuesday morning after a leisurely breakfast, Tom sat in a high back chair reading emails and Taylor wrote in her journal.

Taylor sighed deeply.

“Is something wrong, love?”

“I just felt like a walk on the beach.”

“After I answer this email, we will go.”

“I don’t know if we should. Tree text me that someone posted my plane flew here. That means an increased chance of paparazzi.”

“Then perhaps we shouldn’t?”

“Mr. Hiddleston, are you being a chicken shit right now?”

“Of course not. And don’t think I don’t know you are deliberately trying to provoke me. You know I don’t care about being seen but I do not want to see you upset.”

“What if the paparazzi are there?”

“Then, I will remind you it was your idea to go and you made a bad decision.” He slipped his glasses off and smirked at her. “And, later, you might get a spanking.”

She crossed the room and sat in his lap. She placed several kisses on his cheek and neck.

“I’m going to get some shoes.” She kissed him quickly. “If you go down to the beach with me, you can definitely give me a spanking later.”

Long curtains of hair
And eyes like oceans.
The glow of your smile
Sets me on fire.
Should people be this
Beautiful?

Her voice is the song
In my still quiet
And her hands know
The bruises on my skin
From the places she’s
Changed me.

Her heart was shattered
By someone before me
And sometimes the edges
Leave paper cuts
On my fingertips.

But I don’t think
I’ve ever met someone
So much like a earthquake
With so much left
To be said.

I’ve got a plastic ring
In my left front pocket
If she wants it.
Because I can’t breathe
When she’s gone.
Maybe someday,
She’ll marry me.

—  Would you like to stay forever?