my hair is my temple

There are roses on Derek’s doorstep.

No note. No scent trail. After determining that there is nothing inherently magical or deadly about them, he spends the entire rest of the day researching symbolism and archaic demon customs, trying to figure out what kind of death threat he’s just been handed.

It doesn’t occur to him until nightfall, when the neighbors start discussing their romantic dinner plans at a decibel he has trouble tuning out, that he realizes the flowers might not have been delivered with malicious intent.

Because, apparently, today is Valentine’s Day. And apparently someone decided that Derek should receive flowers to celebrate the occasion.

Derek Hale has a secret admirer.

He honestly would have preferred the death threat.

Keep reading

Will You Stay?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Don’t let go of him. He needs you. He wants you stay, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

Warnings: Angst, all that good shit, it’ll end with a sort of cliffhanger idk i like to call it an interpretive ending but whatever floats your boat, also the obvious language warnings and mentions of baby buck not being okay :-(

Word Count: 9.1k (i’m SORRY)

Author’s Note: so, again, thank you to my inspo tag bc I saw this quote and it’s been churning in my head for so long but I’ve never had the chance to actually sit down and write it. This literally took me a full year to write so let’s see how it goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also this could possibly go into a part two if you guys want it. I have an idea for it but if people want to use their imagination to create their own ending then by all means! Anyways, feedback is more than welcome and please leave requests; I’d love to see what you guys want to read :)


Originally posted by gliceria


It’s funny how easily someone’s world can come crashing down. How easily the bright colors that once painted your world turn to an ashen gray within a few short minutes. It’s sickening that love can raise you up to the sky and show you the world and the beautiful blues and golds of the sky. It’s intoxicating how drunk you feel off of the beauty and the glory of having it all, of seeing it all. How warm you feel, how weightless and limitless, like you’re the air. Twisting and turning, light and free. Young and spirited, wild and reckless and untamed.

Poets, authors and painters convey love with the prettiest words and the lightest shades of pink and yellow and white. They romanticize the fall, the moments before the leap and how wonderful it feels when you finally do.

What they never tell you about is after the fall. 

Keep reading

Making Love

Rating: M

Summary: They say that there is a thin line between true love and stupidity… I don’t know where we fall Sakura, but who cares, right?


a/n: I wrote this right after my exams. I wrote this on a whim. I wrote this, not knowing I would be writing a fluff-smut fic.

This is a sort of sequel to Daddy-like Kid, starring Boruto and Sarada, but this fic can stand on its own. I don’t own Naruto. This is also posted in my Fan Fiction Account: AliceInRealWorld. I hope you guys will enjoy it! :3


I woke up with a sharp jolt. I didn’t have the time to remember the context of the nightmare. The dark room didn’t help. It only lured the images that had faded. The silence didn’t help. It only encouraged the voices of my distress that disrupted my sleep. It was the nightmare so disturbing that it left my heart to beat plangently, causing my ears to ring, making my head ache, tightening my chest.

Cold sweat started to secrete from my bare skin, mixing with the sticky precipitation that was produced from last night’s copulating.

I trembled. I waited for the pounding of my heart to slow down. I thought back the passionate hours to keep my mind from retracting in the darkness. I combated the blood-curling screams with the timbre of my Sakura’s pleased moans and small whimpers. I replaced the scenes of death with the picture of my wife’s pink hair, curtaining her bright green eyes as she erratically move her hips to achieve euphoria.

That’s right. It’s alright if I got roused again and had to relieve it by myself (it’s rude to wake someone up just for such insolent reason.)

I allowed myself to think of anything, everything, just to dispel affective residue of the nightmare.

Think of anything but that.

“Sasuke-kun.” I flinched.

A small, delicate hand patted my back. When I didn’t respond, the hand trailed on to my shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. She scooted closer so she can place her chin on the spot where the curse mark used to reside. “Do you want to talk about it?”

After hearing those words, the dangerous beating of my heart appeased. I bowed down and shook a no.

She made a sound behind her throat, a sign that she’s thinking of ways to distract me from my thoughts. The hand on my shoulder tickled its way down my sole arm. Her nimble fingers traced the visible veins and then it landed on my palm where she drew infinite spirals. She repeated this antic until my breathing went back to normal.

“I’m not supposed to say this.” She began as her hand clasped mine. She pressed her body closer, my bare back feeling her healthy breasts. “But I think Sarada has already forgotten about it, so I guess it is okay to share it.”

I squeezed her hand, silently encouraging her to continue.

She let out a giggle, “When Sarada was six she started a list that she called, ‘Things That I’m Gonna Tell Papa When He Comes Home.’

A small smile graced on my lips. I released Sakura’s hand then gently shrug her off. Understanding my actions, she moved away and began piling the pillows against the headboard. When that’s done, I rested my back on the make-shift lean. I opened my arm, gesturing her to come closer. She happily obliged. She took a small pillow, placed it on my nether region before sitting on my lap. I wrap my arm around her waist. She looped an arm round my neck. I pulled our comforter over our naked body.

“What does it contain?” I mumbled.

“Hmm…” She wondered as her fingers play with my hair. “On the… Let’s say, preface of her list, she said, ‘Papa comes home only once or twice a month. You have to persuade him to teach you something new.’ Then at the bottom, there’s a footnote that says, ‘You have to perfect everything that Papa teaches you Sarada! Shannaro!’

We chuckled quietly in unison. Nuzzling her cheek on the crook of my neck she continued, “If memory serves right, one of her anecdotes is when she finally perfected her shuriken throws. You should’ve seen her solo trainings Sasuke-kun. Every day, I had to tend her hands full of cuts and grazes.”

My eyebrows knotted as Sakura tells the story because of two reasons. One, old friends, regret and longing visited my chest. I wish I was there to see, watch her struggle for greatness.

“Oh! Speaking of training, next to shuriken throwing is, ‘The Day I Finally Created a Katon Goukakyuu!’” She made a circle in the air, her viridian eyes gleaming with pride. “She never faltered even if her cheeks are blistered!”

She laughed softly at the memory. She glanced up and reached for my forehead. “You know what Sasuke-kun?” She tenderly brushed away the bangs that’s covering my other eye then cupped my face, “She reminds me of you.”

And two-Sakura’s right, verbalizing my thoughts perfectly. Sarada reminds me of me, Sasuke, two decades younger. Sasuke with eyes that can shine even if they’re dark as coal. Sasuke who had his head lifted as he chase down his idol, his inspiration, his reason. Sasuke who died in my personal nightmare.

“She embodies you in so many ways. Not that I’m complaining though.” She sighed dramatically then pointedly followed, “But I wish a child would inherit some of my features.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that bad? That… she’s like me?”

‘lub-DUB…’

Do you think that she’ll also commit the same mistakes and sins that I did?

‘lub-DUB.’ Inferiority. ‘lub-DUB.’ Fear. ‘lub-DUB.’ Anxiety. ‘lub-DUB -!’

Do you think she’ll get lost on the darkness too?

‘LUB-DUB, LUB-DUB-!’ Trauma. ‘LUB-DUB, LUB-DUB-!’ Hatred. ‘LUB-DUB, LUB-DUB-!’ Loneliness-

‘LUB-DUB!’

The awful metamorphosis of my heart in the last moment of my childhood, hand in hand, the countless tomoe spiraled in to a constant repetition.

When can you say that you have atoned for the sins you have done?

“Sasuke, love.” I flinched.

Sakura ran her fingers through my hair as her other hand remained on my temple, keeping my bangs from covering my powerful eyes. She held their glare, showing no fear. “That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

I know. But…

“Is that bad?” I asked again, this time, it came out raspy and strained. “Do you think-”

She kissed the tip of my nose then pinched my cheeks, “Of course not! You got it all wrong Sasuke-kun!”

It was her blush and her futile effort to hide her breasts that supported her words, “ahhh I shouldn’t have said that! I’m sorry Sasuke-kun!”  

No. It’s my fault. Sometimes… This heart of mine falters easily when reminded of its old scars.

“Hn.” Having no idea how to return the ambiance of nostalgia, I turned my attention to her belly. In an attempt to distract myself from the rising panic, I started to map out the smooth pattern of her stretch marks.

She gasped at the touch. She replied by tugging at my hair. “It’s alright, Sasuke-kun.”

I have to turn the tables before this conversation went downhill. “What were you trying to say then?”

The crimson hue on her cheeks deepened. I pondered if it’s because the trail of my fingers was leading deep down to her thighs or it’s because of the illocutionary force behind her words.

Or maybe both.

“I remember another anecdote from her list.” She offered with voice strangled between decency and erotica. “T’was the d-day she went home late. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her glasses were broken.”

My hand paused when her words registered. “Who did it?” I asked sharply.

She massaged through my hair again to calm my nerves, “Sarada was bullied. When I asked her who and why, she won’t tell me because she knows that I’ll make a huge fuss about it.” She let out a melancholic sigh. “It was Naruto’s children who told me about it. Boruto explained, ‘we found her crying under the slide because some jerks broke her glasses and told her that she’s adopted.’

So that’s when she started to doubt her mother.

I pulled Sakura closer and planted a chase peck on her forehead.

She placed a hand on my chest as a response and connected the scars that decorate my skin. “But get this Sasuke-kun-Sarada entitled that anecdote ‘Daddy-like Kid.’ She cracked a smirk. “Himawari told me it was Boruto that calmed Sarada down.”

I kept my expression blank but no doubt she noticed my tense muscles. All of the emotions that surfaced because of the nightmare and unnecessary panic attack died down. However, to my demise, it was replaced by crazy assumptions, fueled by my fatherly instincts, suggesting of what could be the possible future of-

“Darling.” Sakura directed her lips on my ear, “Your jealous side is showing~”

I cringed back to glare at her properly, “I am not jealous.”

She narrowed her eyes mischievously, challenging my infamous glare, “oh really now.” She copied my smirk. “So it is fine that Sarada thinks of Boruto as-”

I dove down to capture her lips, preventing her from saying another word about the ridiculous matter. She giggled at my growls, still teasing through the use of lips and tongue and rising intimacy.

She tried to withdraw from the assaults of my mouth but failed ultimately. She instead let her body melt in to my dominance by audaciously asking for an entrance.

When I refused, she wrapped both arms around my neck and then swiftly shifted in to a straddling position to win back control. She now had me trapped between her legs, boldly showing what’s in between. And to further clarify the contexture of her demands, she lewdly ground her hips, flattening the pillow (and something else beneath it that’s throbbing) that prevents us from colliding.

I groaned out of frustration because that minimal amount of sensual pressure was not enough. And she took this as an opportunity to gasp for air as she annoyingly chortled. She brushed off my bangs again then placed her forehead to mine.

Our eyes met. “Are you okay now?”

I held her gaze. My heart picked up its pace. The countless, rotating tomoe dispel under her emerald eyes.  

Are you okay now?

Emerald eyes that have always been asking those words always have been looking at me even if it makes her cry. Those are the eyes that brought light to our coal black eyes, Sarada. The gleam that I never thought would come back. Those are the eyes that granted me the ability to think of a mirthful place in the midst of my chaotic mind. The place where all the forgotten beautiful memories reside that I never believed that could be revived.

           Am I okay now?

           Yes. Those are the emerald eyes that made me remember Sasuke who always die in the nightmares. Those are the beautiful eyes that beaconed as one of the proofs that there is something worth discovering, something worth protecting in this cruel world of ninjas.

“Sasuke-kun?” She caressed my cheeks.

           I captured her lips again, slowly, devotedly, reverting from the animalistic desires earlier. Her hands found their way to my hair again, tying knots, drawing me closer. My shoulders relaxed as the temperature of the room rose once again.

           Do you want to talk about it?

           It was my brother, Itachi’s love that demonstrated me the highest form of unmitigated familial love. It was the love that I have forgotten because it was buried underneath layers of deception, diffidence and corruption.

           “Sa-ku-ra…” My fingers outlined her spine with every syllable of her name, armed with the knowledge that the gesture turns her on.

           Yes. I want to talk about it but…

           It was Naruto, the idiot, which made me realize that I have someone who understands the pain and the loneliness of an orphaned kid starving for love-finding nothing but hatred. It was Naruto who swore that he would always willingly, stubbornly drag my ass back when I lost to the darkness again. It was him who taught me that it’s vacuous to sacrifice your own happiness so that you can cold-heartedly save the world.

           “S-sasuke…” She moaned as my lips ghosted to her jaw, then to her chin and then peppered hot nips on her neck. One of her hand relocated to my chest, drawing smooth lines leading leisurely down to my chiseled abs. She dared an experimental thrust, causing me to bite down at her pulse, earning herself a love mark and prizing me with the sweet sound of her whimpers.

           “Sakura…”

           -it was you who never did give up on loving me in spite of my countless, unforgivable attempts in ending your life. It was you-your lively eyes, your ever loyal heart, your boar-like determination that brought me in to conclusion that one of the justifiable means to obtain peace is to truly, faithfully, unconditionally love.

“Sasuke-kun…” She whined unabashedly as my lips latched themselves to one of her pink, perky breasts. Her hand ventured below the belt, trying to remove the pillow. It was my turn to halt her from getting what she wanted as I amorously embraced her closer, closer, until our torsos mashed. I rolled her other nipple between my teeth, making her arch her back, allowing me to behold a better view of her arousal.

I don’t know how to tell you.

I thought about it as I was on journey to redemption-it was Naruto and Itachi, my brothers who allowed me to forgive the world.

And that, it was team seven that reminded me what’s like to have a family.

“Sa-ku-ra-chan.” I mumbled against the valley of her bosoms. “You’re right…”

So, instead, let me show you…

-you who convinced me that it was time to forgive myself-

“A-about what, Sa-su-ke-kun?”

Let me prove to you…

-you, Sakura Uchiha, who strengthened our bond by graciously adopting my name even if you knew the burden it carried. Even if you knew I would be seldom home, resulting to numerous rumors about our marriage. For example, I chose you because of physical attraction or maybe because I couldn’t be bothered to search for a more suitable vassal to restore the Uchiha Clan.

I returned to her sweet lips and muttered, “I would love to make, I mean, see a child bearing your features~”

That I’m forever thankful…

As a respond to those accusations, you intrepidly showed those people, who would never understand, that the time you can truly say that it is love is when-even if every bits and pieces of flaws are laid bare and even if hope is just a small ray of light, it is enough to sacrifice, to inspire one in holding on and moving on along love and hate.

She shivered at my words. I tried to subtly slide away the pillow between our… a, object of desire but she ceased my attempt by clutching my waist with her muscled legs, pressing her drenched core to my abdomen.

That I love you too.

Darling… I want you to know that one of the things that Sarada listed…” She pulled at my hair to make me look at her irises again, staring me down, stating that her next words are quite important.

They say that there is a thin line between true love and stupidity…

“…she wants a baby brother…”

…I don’t know where we fall Sakura. But, who cares, right?

I narrowed my eyes mischievously, enjoying that flustered expression she had on her face, “oh really now.” I smirked.

We just love.

My hand moved on its own, searing every inch of skin it fondled.

“I love you Sasuke-kun…” She proclaimed once again.

These words are left unsaid yet you understand.

But before my lone hand wandered to the area where it would minister miracles (as she describes it)it folded into an all too familiar hand sign to give Sakura’s forehead a light tap.

That’s the reason why I chose you.

And it will always be you…


a/n: haha hope you guys enjoyed it. Been loving these two for a decade and thank heavens they’re canon. Don’t you think so too?

craving

Requested by @alone-in-madness

masterlist

word count: 1,849

**warning: SMUT**

I tried to ignore my phone as I saw more texts coming in every minute. Every single one of them was from my boyfriend who was so controlling that it killed him every time I hung out with my best friend, Shawn. Shawn knew how he was and had told me many times I should end it. He’d protected my from my boyfriend’s fits of temper on many occasions, and for that I was thankful. Ever since my current relationship went to absolute shit, I felt myself falling for Shawn. My attention was no longer on my boyfriend but always on Shawn.

I noticed how when we would go somewhere he always held the door open for me. When we went to eat, he always pulled out my seat for me. Just simple things were making me fall in love with him. I had already ignored one phone call. The phone rang again and I tried to block it out. It was easier than I thought it would be. Sitting with my legs across Shawn’s lap, his large hands resting on my thighs and being covered up under a blanket on his couch made it quite easy to forget I had an angry, controlling boyfriend trying to call me.

“Come on, just answer the phone and end it with him. You know that’s what’s best for you.” Shawn begged me. I sighed then picked up the phone.

“What the hell makes you think you can ignore me? And who said you could hang out with other guys without my permission, huh?” I heard as soon as I answered the phone.

“I can ignore you all I want,” I yelled back, “I can hang around with whoever I want to because we’re done. Done. Goodbye, do not try to call me again.” I hung up the phone and blocked his number. I felt a humongous weight lift off my shoulders as I blocked his number. I looked at Shawn. He was shocked I had actually done it this time.

“I’m proud of you.” He said. I smiled. “What made you actually end it?”

“Well, there’s kinda someone else and I think you know who it is.” I hinted at him. A smile spread across his face, he knew I was talking about him. After falling so hard for Shawn, it was hard to not notice the way he would act towards me sometimes. I would often catch him staring and he would look away as soon as I caught his gaze. We would hug and his hands lingered on my lower back every time. It was obvious he loved me so I made it obvious that I love him as well.

“You like me?” He asked, trying to act surprised in which he failed.

“I love you, Shawn. I have for a while. Now that I broke up with that asshole, I can finally do this.” I spoke. A sudden courage came over me and I leaned in to kiss Shawn. I attached my lips to his which were soft and plump. My fingers tangled into his dark brown hair. I pulled away from the kiss, pressing my forehead against Shawn’s. I looked into his eyes, wondering what if what he was feeling right now was as amazing as what I was feeling.

He cupped my face in one hand and pulled me back into another kiss. His other hand grabbed at my leg, trying to put me on his lap. Once I realized what he was trying to do, I helped him. I placed my legs on either side of him. I kissed at Shawn’s lips hungrily, not being able to get enough of the way they felt on mine. I licked across his lips teasingly. His tongue traced over mine. We kissed passionately for what only seemed like a few minutes, but had actually been half an hour.

I stood up, grabbing Shawn’s hand and leading him to the bedroom of his apartment. I opened the door, turned on the light and soon began removing pieces of clothing one by one. Once I was no longer wearing a shirt and my pants were unbuttoned, Shawn’s hands grabbed my much smaller hands.

“Let me do it, please.” He begged. A small smirk spread across my face seeing the effect I had on him. He pulled my jeans down my legs once he laid me down on the bed. After a fumbling with my bra a few times, he finally unclasped it. My hands roamed under Shawn’s shirt, feeling his toned abdomen. I inched my wandering hands farther up his shirt. He finally took it off. I unbuckled his belt while starting to kiss him again. I sucked harshly at the soft skin of his neck, knowing very well what would be left there. Shawn didn’t protest though, so I didn’t stop.

I pulled away from Shawn to look at him in just his boxers. The sight was glorious. I ached from looking at him. I sat up on the bed, Shawn still standing. I kissed his lips roughly. I started to rub my hand over the bulge in his boxers. I stood up, now much shorter than Shawn. I no longer kissed him and he groaned. I glanced up at him before lowering myself down onto my knees.

“You don’t hav-”

“No, Shawn I want to. Please let me.” I pleaded. I looked up at him, batting my eyelashes and beginning to pull his boxers down. He couldn’t say no and I knew it so I took his underwear off. His dick was much bigger than I expected it to be. Trying to forget the fact that I wouldn’t be able to take it all in my mouth, I started licking at the head of his dick. I wrapped my hand around the base of it, my fingers barely being able to touch.

I licked up the bottom of his shaft until I got to the head, taking him into my mouth once I got there. One thing I had been waiting to do for months now was finally happening. I took more and more into my mouth until I couldn’t fit anymore. I looked up at Shawn to see him watching my every move intently. His mouth was hung open and every once in a while he would squeeze his eyes shut.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna be able to last for you.” Shawn groaned. I released him from my mouth. He picked me up, putting me back onto the bed. His eager hands pulled my underwear off quickly and tossed them on the floor.

His eyes wandered over my body as I was now completely bare in front of him. His eyes stayed on my breasts a few moments longer than every where else.

“You’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.” He mumbled. I grinned at his remark. To say I hadn’t thought about what he looked like naked before today was definitely a lie. I’d thought about it many times and it was obvious he’d thought the same about me. I watched Shawn’s every movement. His hands spread my legs apart and his eyes traveled down to look. He inhaled sharply and I bit my lip to hold in a moan after seeing his reaction.

His thumb rubbed circles on my clit. With his other hand, his dipped his middle finger into my pussy. I moaned out his named softly. After he felt how wet I was, he added another finger. He pumped two fingers in and out of me quickly. I was soon a moaning mess, on the verge of orgasming whenever Shawn took his fingers out. I whined and then saw him smirk. He crawled onto the bed and hovered over me. He was still hard and the head of his dick was now red. After searching to find a condom, he lined himself up with my entrance. It took all I had in me to not buck my hips up.

“Are you ready?” He asked. Somehow, this boy managed to sound sincere all while being irresistible and sexy as hell. I nodded my head. The innocence in his voice soon went away. “I’m going to fuck you so much better than he could.”

The number of times I’d fantasized about this moment was insane and now it was finally happening. I’d been craving this for so long. Shawn pushed himself into me slowly, stretching my walls slightly. I groaned from how slowly he had done it.

“You’re so tight. So so tight and wet.” He moaned. He began to roll his hips into mine, thrusting into me roughly. He cupped my right breast into his huge hand and kissed at it. His tongue licked in the valley of my breasts then he flicked his tongue over my nipples. The pain I had felt from his size was only brief and not nearly as bad as I’d expected. He finally bottomed out, causing me to moan out his name strung along with a few ‘fucks.’

His thrusts were rhythmic and each one of them equally as rough. I knew he didn’t realized how rough he was actually being. I knew it was from how long we had both been craving this moment. I couldn’t say that I minded him being this rough, though. It was extremely sexy.

I pulled Shawn’s lips to mine. I kissed his lips and bit them hard. He rested his forehead against mine, both were covered in little beads of sweat. I looked into his topaz eyes, feeling even more connected with him in doing so. His hands wandered down to my legs and pushed them farther apart. His thumb went to my clit and rubbed circles on it. The pleasure was so much stronger now, I could barely handle it. The head of his cock teased all the right places inside me.

“Oh my god, Shawn. You’re gonna make me come.” I moaned. His thrusts only got faster and my orgasm grew even closer.

“Come for me, baby. You deserve it, just come.” He said through clenched teeth, trying not to come before me. His thrusts were so sloppy and hard that it sent me into a blissful orgasm. I clenched my walls around him. He moaned out my name as he came. My walls still fluttered around his length as he still thrusted in sloppily.

He pulled out and went to throw away the condom. He soon returned to cuddle with me. He pulled me on top of him and I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. His chest would rise and fall slowly, still trying to come down from the high and I was doing the same. He brushed my hair away from my face then kissed my temple.

“I love you so much. I know this is the wrong time to say it, you know after that. But I love you so fucking much.” Shawn said.

“I love you too, Shawn.” I replied.

William Nylander - Escape

Originally posted by hockeyontrend

Requested by @mattsmartsmarns : “  Are your requests open? I’d love one of whichever leaf best suits “I’m An Open Road” by Paul Brandt and Jess Moskaluke ❤❤ “

Sorry this one took so long!

Warnings: Mentions of rough family life, some possibly depressing scenes

Keep reading

The Exchange

This one is for my darling Heather, @jalove-wecallhimdean. Congrats on your 500 my sweet, i envy those lucky buggers that get to discover you for the first time. But at the same time, I am so glad I was there for the beginning of your posting!
Also, THANK YOU to Jenn for being an brilliant beta. @avasmommy224 couldn’t have posted without you soothing my worried mind!

Prompt: “You full on had a girl inside you for like a whole week”
Warning: Body Swap, swearing, attempted humor, rejection, fluff, confusion, masturbation, hinted smut…?
Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam
Word Count: 5264 (kinda got away from me)
Summary: A nasty curse from a Warlock leaves you and Dean scratching each others heads and Sam mighty confused…

Originally posted by lexarakoon

That fucking warlock. Oh man, had he been a hard one to put down! It had taken all week. Spells were cast, spells were undone. Hex bags were planted, hex bags were burnt. It’d been physically wearing too, being thrown from one bloody wall to another. Christ, this guy just had a hard on for bodies slapping against plaster.
I groaned and rolled onto my back, not opening my eyes just yet, today could wait. I lay there for a while before stretching, and it was a bloody good stretch too; leg shaking, arm tingling, back cracking, good. I yawned wide, cracking my dry lips. I licked at it, feeling the swell of a bigger cut. I don’t remember splitting my lip. I push that thought from my mind and dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, grinding out the sleep and yawning again, but I stop, surprised, halfway through. My fingers have rested on my hair, what should be my long hair; but it’s short and spiky and …

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you post one of the more kinky scenes? Asking for a friend.

Oh well, if you’re asking for a friend anon, I would hate to let them down…


I stopped dead at the top of the staircase. A man stood at the foot of the stair, a silhouette tall and black against the panes of the double French doors. I didn’t think I had made any sound, but he turned at once, face lifted toward me. Even in the poor light, I knew at once that it was Jamie. 

He was still clad in the clothes he had worn the night before—coat and waistcoat, frilled shirt and buckled breeches. The shirt was open at the neck, though, coat and weskit unbuttoned and askew. I could see the narrow line of white linen, the flesh of his throat dark against it. His hair was loose; he had been running his hands through it. 

“Come down,” he said softly. 

I hesitated, looking back over my shoulder. A ladylike medley of snores came from the room I had just left. Two slaves were sleeping on the floor in the hall, curled under blankets, but neither moved. 

I looked back. He didn’t speak again, but lifted two fingers, beckoning. The scent of smoke and whisky filled the stairwell. 

The blood was thrumming in my ears—and elsewhere. My face was flushed, my hair damp at the temples and on my neck; cool air rose up under my shift, touched the patch of dampness at the base of my spine, the film of slickness where my thighs brushed together. 

I came down slowly, cautiously, trying not to let the stairs creak under my bare feet. It occurred to me belatedly that this was ridiculous; the slaves thundered up and down these stairs hundreds of times a day. Even so, I felt the need for secrecy; the house was still asleep, and the stairwell was filled with a gray light that seemed as fragile as smoked glass. A sudden sound, a move too quick, and something might explode under my feet, with a flash like a lightbulb popping. 

His eyes stayed fixed on me, dark triangles in the paler dark of his face. He stared at me with a fierce intensity, as though to drag me down the stairs by the force of his gaze alone. 

I stopped, one step from the bottom. There was no blood on his clothes; thank God for that. 

It wasn’t that I’d never seen Jamie drunk before. No wonder he hadn’t come up the stairs to me. I thought he was very drunk now, and yet there was something quite different in this. He stood rock-solid, legs set wide, betrayed only by a certain deliberation in the way he moved his head to look at me. 

“What—” I began, whispering. 

“Come here,” he said. His voice was low, rough with sleeplessness and whisky. 

I hadn’t time either to reply or to acquiesce; he seized my arm and pulled me toward him, then swept me off the last step, crushed me to him, and kissed me. It was a most disconcerting kiss—as though his mouth knew mine all too well, and would compel my pleasure, regardless of my desires. 

His hair smelled of a long night’s smoke—tobacco and woodsmoke and the smoke of beeswax candles. He tasted so strongly of whisky that I felt light-headed, as though the alcohol in his blood were seeping into mine through our skins where they touched, through the sealed membranes of our mouths. Something else was seeping into me from him, as well—a sense of overpowering lust, as blind as it was dangerous. 

I wanted to remonstrate with him, to push him away. Then I decided that I didn’t, but it wouldn’t have made any difference if I had. He didn’t mean to let go. 

One big hand was gripping the back of my neck, warm and hard on my skin, and I thought of a stallion’s teeth closing on the neck of the mare he mounts, and shivered from scalp to sole. His thumb accidentally pressed the great artery under my jaw; darkness swam behind my eyes and my knees began to buckle. He felt it and let go, easing me back so that I was almost lying prone upon the stairs, his weight half on me and his hands seeking. 

I was naked under my shift, and the thin muslin might as well not have been there. 

The hard edge of a stair pressed into my back, and it occurred to me, in the dim way that things do when you’re drunk, that he was just about to take me right there on the stairs, and devil take anyone who might see. 

Keep reading

The Painful Wait. PART 3 (DarylxReader)

Hope y'all enjoyed part two! Here’s part three✌🏼
Summary:
Y/N and Daryl have finally been reunited, but Daryl has fallen ill due to exhaustion and infected scars. Hershel and Maggie tend him back to health, much to Y/N’s relief. The two finally address their feelings for each other and the harsh words they exchanged.

Warnings- strong language, implied smut, angst, fluff, mentions of abuse.
_____________________________________________

“I thought I lost you.” I sob.

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried, Darlin’.” He chuckles breathlessly.

Daryl begins to stumble slightly, so I unwrap my legs from around his waist and push some strands of hair out of his eyes, which are fluttering open and shut.

“Daryl? Baby, you alright?” I ask, my voice laced with concern.

“I… I can’t…”

Daryl collapses to the earth, his head smacking onto a log in the process.

“Daryl? Daryl! Daryl, wake up! Oh God, no! No! Rick! Rick! Michonne! Glenn! Maggie, somebody! Help!” I scream, kneeling at his side and placing his head in my lap.

Rick and Glenn speed over, Hershel following shortly after.

“Hershel, please help him! Do something,” I weep.

“Y/N, I’m gonna do everythin’ I can, but right now, I need you to give him some space and go back inside.” Hershel instructs.

“What? No, no, I’m staying, I need to be with him!” I argue.

“Glenn, will you please?” Hershel orders.

Glenn grabs me from behind and drags me backwards to keep me away from Daryl. I struggle and thrash around, desperately trying to escape Glenn’s hold, wearing myself out and eventually letting him take me away. I give in and walk back with Glenn, constantly looking over my shoulder to see what they’re doing to Daryl.

I’m stuck in the library with Glenn, Carol, Carl, Tyrese and Sasha, pacing back and forth, biting the skin around my nails due to anxiety and stress, waiting, longing for news on Daryl’s wellbeing.
Maggie strolls in, blood on her hands and sweat on her brow. Her gruesome appearance makes my heart drop into my stomach and my pulse race.

“He’s out cold still, but he’s gonna be okay. You can go see him if you want.” She smiles sweetly.

“Thank you so much Maggie.” I whimper, hugging her tightly.

“No problem. Now go be with him, he needs you.”

I walk briskly to Daryl’s cell, only to be greeted by Rick and Hershel.

“Now, he’s stable, but go easy on him. He’s very dehydrated. The exhaustion was what knocked him out and he’s lost a lot of blood. Lucky for him, we managed to clean him up, stitch his cuts and chill his fever. I think what he needs is to wake up to a friendly face. You will be friendly, won’t you?” Hershel explains.

“I don’t think I’ll ever say a bad word to that man for as long as I live, Doc. I love him.” I sigh.

“You do!? Glenn owes me a drink!” Hershel chuckles and pats Rick on the back. I hug Maggie’s father with the same amount of gratitude I showed her.

“Thank you for savin’ him. You’re a good man, Hershel Greene.” I tell him in all honesty.

“I know, Y/N. I know.” He laughs.

I turn to Rick as Hershel walks away and he puts an arm around my shoulder.

“Our boy’s gonna be just fine. The man’s invincible.” He sighs.

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll probably believe you.”

Rick snickers at my remark and gives me a comforting kiss on the top of my head before heading over to the library to join everybody else.
As if it’s the most natural thing in the world to me, I climb into bed next to Daryl and cuddle up to his side, tracing my fingers along his stitches and bruises.

“What happened to you?” I whisper, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Finally calm and at peace, I drift off into the first content sleep I’ve had in months. All because I know he’s safe.

~~~~~~

The scorching Atlanta sun beams through Daryl’s cell window, shining over my eyes and waking me up. Unlike when I first got into Daryl’s bed, I can now feel strong arms wrapped comfortably around my waist and legs intertwined with my own. I turn over to see a finally conscious Daryl.

“Hey…” I croak in my morning voice, stroking some stray hairs out of his eyes.

“Hi.” He smiles, pulling me closer to him and gently kissing my forehead.

“How you feelin’?” I whisper.

“Like I been dragged backwards through thorns. But other than that, I’m peachy.” He jokes.

I roll my eyes at his remark and playfully nudge his shoulder.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how worried I was, Daryl. I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you and I was never going to see you again and-”

“Hey, hey, hey… I’m here now, ain’t I?” He reassures me.

“Barely, Daryl! You were hurt real bad,” I sigh. “Hershel said you got lucky.”

“Nah, I’m just that good.” Daryl smirks cockily.

“Darlin’, I know you think you’re gonna live forever, but you ain’t immortal. You could’ve gotten bit, shot, stabbed-”

I’m cut off by Daryl’s lips pressing against mine, a feeling that I’ve craved for so long. Our kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and needy by the second. His fingers dig into my hips as an attempt to pull me closer, but there’s absolutely no space left between us anymore, but I definitely won’t stop him. I reach up to have my hands on either side of his face, but he pulls away and hisses slightly, wincing in pain.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” I panic.

“Nah, it’s fine, it’s fine… just stings a little bit.” He laughs.

I rest my head back onto the pillow and let out a deep, content sigh.

“Listen… about what we said before I left. I’m sorry. Weren’t right.” Daryl says awkwardly.

“Normally I’d tell you that you should be sorry. But everything you said was right. I’m too reckless. You saw, if you hadn’t have been there in time, I would’ve died. I just wish that I never said those things. You aren’t suffocating me, I just overreacted.”

“I hope you know… the only uh- the only reason I’m like that is because I uh… I guess what I’m trying to say is I, uh-”

“I love you too, Daryl.” I smile, a rush of happiness surging through me because I finally got to tell him.

“Yeah… yeah, I love you, I really do. And that night, it wasn’t just going to be a quick fuck, I really want you for you, y'know? I’m sorry, I ain’t good at this stuff. I just… I don’t know. Let’s just stick with ‘I love you’.” He blushes.

I giggle at his awkwardness and struggle to show affection, as Daryl always knows what to say, so it’s unusual to see him so dumbfounded.
It’s so refreshing to see this side of him, as he’s normally so tough and full of bravado, but to see him so soft… it’s beautiful. I can’t help but run my hands through his hair and caress his temple with my thumb, just to reassure myself that he’s actually there and I’m not dreaming. He clearly understands what I’m doing and gently smooths away a tear I hadn’t realised rolled down my cheek.

“Hey, listen… I’m fine, okay? I’m okay, I’m alive and I ain’t dyin’ anytime soon.” He says softly.

“I know, I know, I’m just trying to process it all. I’ve gone from losing sleep because I never thought I’d get to touch you again and now you’re here and I can and I’m just so happy, it’s all really overwhelming, y'know?” I laugh in embarrassment.

All of a sudden, Rick appears at the entrance of Daryl’s cell, armed with knives and guns, looking about ready to go on a Walker killing spree.

“Going on a run, won’t be long. Y/N, you coming?” Ricks asks.

“Am I not included in this? I’m comin’ too.” Daryl grumbles and tries to sit up. I let out an amused scoff, earning a confused scowl from Mr Over-Enthusiastic over here.

“You ain’t going nowhere. You had your time being overprotective and now it’s my turn. I’m gonna keep you in this prison if it’s the last thing I goddamn do, Dixon. Rick, I’ll stay here. Need to keep this one out of trouble.”

Rick bites back laughter at the sight of his best friend’s frustration and nods knowingly.

“Probably a good idea.” Rick sighs with a smirk.

“Who’s side are you on, Grimes? Good Lord.” Daryl groans, falling back down onto the limp pillows.

“Her side, dumbass. Almost got yourself killed. Consider yourself on administrative leave. Recover for God’s sake. Anyways, if you need anything, Hershel and Beth are gonna be around if you need anything. See y'all later.” Rick waves and leaves to go on his travels.

“You’re killin’ me, Y/N.” Daryl sighs.

“You did a pretty good job of that yourself baby.” I laugh, still sat up.

“Hey, listen… you think Hershel and Beth have good hearing?”

I turn back and look at a smirking Daryl with raised eyebrows.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” I scoff.

“Not yet.” He winks.

~~~~~~

Beth’s P.O.V

“Sweetheart, can you take this down to Daryl please?” Dad passes me a cup of water and some antibiotics.

“Sure Pop.” I smile sweetly and take the objects from his hands. I travel down the stairs towards Daryl’s cell when I here a slight whimpering, causing me to stop in my tracks. I clear my throat and what follows is a series of whispers and curses. I continue and when I reach my destination, the scene that’s laid out before me makes me feel both delighted and extremely awkward. Daryl has just resurfaced from underneath his sheets and clearly has no shirt on, and Y/N has the sheets pulled up to her mouth, blushing like there’s no tomorrow.

“Subtle guys.” I sigh. I set Daryl’s water and pills down on a table next to his cell door and turn to leave, but turn around last minute.

“Hey Daryl? The next time you go down on your girlfriend, can you go to a different cell block or at least give us warning so we can? We’re literally upstairs. Y'all are gross.” I giggle.

Y/N buries her head in the crook of Daryl’s neck in embarrassment, resulting in my going all fuzzy on the inside because they’re so damn cute.

Your P.O.V

Beth finally walks away and I let out a little squeal of bashfulness.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” Daryl sighs.

“No fucking shit.” I laugh.

We sit in the awkward atmosphere for a while before I turn on my side and let out a small chuckle.

“Maybe later. We can go to cell block A and they won’t suspect a damn thing.” I suggest.

“I like the way you think, baby girl.” He winks and we high-five.

Daryl turns and faces away from me, allowing me to wrap my arms around his sculpted torso, but I’m distracted by wounds and scars on his back. These aren’t recent, either. These are permanent. Long cuts crossed over, spread over his shoulders, spine and tattoo. I have to cover my mouth to stop me audibly gasping at the clear mistreatment. I gently run my fingers across the scars, causing Daryl to flinch slightly.

“What are you doing?” Daryl snaps.

“Daryl… what are these?” I ask in an airy, barely-there voice due to shock.

“It’s none of your damn… ugh. Fine,” He turns to face me once again.

“My Dad… he wasn’t a nice guy. Used to beat the crap out of Merle. When Merle left, Dad had to fine something else to take whatever had pissed him off that day out on. I was just the closest thing I guess.” Daryl confesses.

My heart shatters knowing that at some point, somebody hurt this precious, pure man.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” I whisper.

Daryl shakes his head and let’s out a deep breath.

“You don’t have to say anything. Not your fault. What’s happened’s happened, it’s all in the past.” He shrugs.

I snake my arms around his shoulders and lovingly press my lips to his and in response, he clutches my waist and pulls my body closer to his, once again closing any form of space separating us. He lays on his back and pulls me on top of him as we make out, but as I sit up to take off my shirt, I hit my head on the top bunk, sending Daryl into fits of laughter.

“Smooth.” He chuckles.

“God, what is it with this cell block!? It’s a fucking concrete cock block!” I exclaim, much to Daryl’s amusement.

“I’m a mess.” I complain, covering my reddening face with both of my hands.

Daryl takes my wrists and sets them down by my thighs, gazing up at me with pure, unadulterated devotion.

“You’re my mess.”

8 Helping Hands

Author’s Fic

Summary: John rescues you from danger (this is so loose)

Pairings: John Wick x Reader

8 Helping Hands

Originally posted by keanuital


A blood curdling scream erupted from my lips.

“John, John!” I shrieked as I scurried across the bedroom.

Feet pounded on the stairs and the door swung open with a bang. John barged in gun drawn, cocked and ready to fire at the cause of my alarm.

He swept the room, his muscles bunched under the thin white tee “, what’s wrong?”

“There, there!” I shrieked, pointing towards the bathroom and scampered behind him.

Carefully he approached the door. He pushed me aside and pointed to a corner, a silent command to stay behind. Using the nozzle of the gun he pushed open the ajar door and disappeared into the room. I waited for him to emerge with bated breath.

He walked out a minute later, hands slack at his side. John frowned and approached me.

His calloused hand cupped my cheek, the rough pads of his fingers scraped my cheek lightly “, was someone in here?” Concern creased his features.

I looked past him at the open entryway to the bathroom “, well-.”

I wrung my hands together, unsure of how to explain the events that had taken place. My assailant chose that specific moment to show itself.

“There, there!” I screeched and pointed.

John whirled, gun drawn, ready to fire only to lower his arm and look back at me with a confused expression. I stood in the centre of the bed, hopping from one foot to the other, eyes wide in my head.

“THERE!” I stressed and pointed again. John backed up and followed my pointed finger.  

In the doorway it stood, five inches in diameter spread on dark brown, hairy, stilt like legs. Slowly it creeped forward and raised its two front legs in the air. I squirmed. John shot me an incredulous look and chuffed a laugh.

“Johnnnnn,” I whined, backing towards the headboard of the bed, my feet sinking into the plush mattress.

He sighed, raised his gun and fired. Brown bits of the spider exploded across the room.

I approached him, his back towards me “,is it gone?”

I touched his shoulder, he turned.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of spiders,” he said, his voice soft but his eyes sparked with mischief.

Heat creeped into my cheeks and I looked away from him “, it’s a bit embarrassing.”

My eyes found the place where the spider had existed only moments before, a black smudge mark and a hole were all that marked its presence. John’s arms wrapped around my waist and the back of legs, easily he lifted me from the bed.

“I don’t think so and I wish you’d have told me before,” he said, all traces of mischief disappearing as he sensed my unease.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered into my hair. His lips ghosted my temple in the faintest kiss and he made to exit the room.

I slung an arm over his shoulder and pressed my lips to his cheek “, my hero.”

anonymous asked:

Where can I find the excerpt with Jamie and Claire in the stable and he's putting her rings back on that he had gambled with and makes love to her ?

It’s in The Fiery Cross, Chapter 49.

And also here:
;)

It was cold in the hall, away from the contained body heat of the women, but I welcomed the chill; the blood was pulsing just under my skin, and I bloomed with heat and agitation. A nice cool down was exactly what I wanted. I made my way quietly to the back stairs, meaning to go down and outside for a breath of air.

I stopped dead at the top of the staircase. A man stood at the foot of the stair, a silhouette tall and black against the panes of the double French doors. I didn’t think I had made any sound, but he turned at once, face lifted toward me. Even in the poor light, I knew at once that it was Jamie.

He was still clad in the clothes he had worn the night before—coat and waistcoat, frilled shirt and buckled breeches. The shirt was open at the neck, though, coat and weskit unbuttoned and askew. I could see the narrow line of white linen, the flesh of his throat dark against it. His hair was loose; he had been running his hands through it.

“Come down,” he said softly.

I hesitated, looking back over my shoulder. A ladylike medley of snores came from the room I had just left. Two slaves were sleeping on the floor in the hall, curled under blankets, but neither moved.

I looked back. He didn’t speak again, but lifted two fingers, beckoning. The scent of smoke and whisky filled the stairwell.

The blood was thrumming in my ears—and elsewhere. My face was flushed, my hair damp at the temples and on my neck; cool air rose up under my shift, touched the patch of dampness at the base of my spine, the film of slickness where my thighs brushed together.

I came down slowly, cautiously, trying not to let the stairs creak under my bare feet. It occurred to me belatedly that this was ridiculous; the slaves thundered up and down these stairs hundreds of times a day. Even so, I felt the need for secrecy; the house was still asleep, and the stairwell was filled with a gray light that seemed as fragile as smoked glass. A sudden sound, a move too quick, and something might explode under my feet, with a flash like a lightbulb popping.

His eyes stayed fixed on me, dark triangles in the paler dark of his face. He stared at me with a fierce intensity, as though to drag me down the stairs by the force of his gaze alone.

Keep reading

Bad Girl(Sequel to Good Girl) Ch 1: Where We Are Now

“Come on pretty boy, put them up,” I tease as I raise my fists in front of my face, ignoring the judgmental looks of the other party goers. The pretty man in front of me huffs in annoyance while the others laugh and pat the sad man on the shoulder.

“I can’t fight a girl,” He huffs.

“Someone decided to get morals tonight. Since when don’t you fight girls?” I place my hands on my hips and stare up at him.

His eyes scan the room and I can’t help but chuckle, “I don’t when that girl has a guard dog that will bite my head off for even raising a hand to you.”

“Aw Princess,” I grin, “Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?”

“You should be more afraid of the dragon sneaking over,” Haneul warns as she wraps her arm around my shoulders. I grimace at her sudden appearance, I might be in trouble. She narrows her eyes down at me, “But you, little girl, should be afraid of me. What have I told you about teasing my princess?”

I gulp and glance over at Lee Taemin, the head of a smaller group who is known for his cruelty and violence, and see him blushing. “I’m sorry Unnie,” I mumble under my breath as I look down at my black heels and begin playing with the hem of my little black cocktail dress.

She chuckles and kisses the side of my head, “I’ll forgive you this time but no more teasing.”

I smile at her, “Okay, but you gotta make him stop too.”

“She started it!” Taemin quickly defends himself but backs down the moment her gaze shifts to him. I can’t hold in my laugh at the sight of him wilting as she crosses our small circle of friends to reach him.

She smacks him up side the head, “You need to stop picking fights with little girls.”

He pouts cutely, “Why did you hit me? Why don’t you hit her too?”

“Cause she’s like my child,” She snaps and quickly returns to my side, tucking me under her arms like a mother protecting her child. “Are you saying you want me to hit my child?” I can’t hold in my giggles at her dramatic acting.

“Hyungnim!” A young boy joins us, he probably isn’t much younger than me but the way he carries himself I can tell he’s mature for his age. He bows to all of us before looking at Taemin, “I’ve come to report that all of them have been terminated.”

Taemin nods, his cold mask coming to cover the cute boy from before, “Any witnesses to it?”

The boy nods.

Without any hesitation Tae asks, “Were they handled?”

“At the scene.”

“How many?”

“The five from the mission and six extra but others were avoided.”

“Good. Next time make sure not to draw any attention. I know how much you like to put on a show Ten but I’d like to not draw more attention to my best assassin. Understood?”

Ten nods, “It won’t happen again.”

“Now go back to the others, have some fun. Dance a bit. I don’t need you boys over working yourselves,” Taemin lifts his glass before sending the boy away and taking another swig of his drink.

Haneul’s voice is in my ear, “Way to go, you didn’t flinch.” She gives me an encouraging smile as she rubs my arm sweetly. Even though she is known to have a cold personality she has become like a big sister or a mother to me.

Jiyong brought me into his world three months after I started living with him. At first I didn’t think that I wanted anything to do with it but he told me if I wanted to be involved, the door was open and even if I did partake killing and kidnapping isn’t something I’d see. As I stepped into all of it, it was over whelming and Jiyong, who grew up in this world didn’t know how to help me deal with it. Haneul came into my life and helped me understand the cruelty of my new world. But something that made me feel strangely comforted are the words she told me months ago, “At least you are seeing all of this from the top. Not all of us are that lucky.”

I’m snapped out of my daze by the sound of Taemin whining again, “Why do I always get hit? Can’t you hit her once?”

She scoffs, “Do you want me to die?

“Why are you dying?” Jiyong wonders as he too joins our circle, the six people standing in the circle tense slightly. His arm is around my shoulders, doing the same thing as Haneul, even gives me a kiss on my temple before nuzzling into my hair.

“I was just making sure Taemin wasn’t causing trouble,” Hanuel explains wrapping her arm around her lover’s. Taemin regains his cool demeanor and nods politely at Jiyong, who just returns the action.

“Do you guys mind if I steal my love?” He teases, even though no matter what they would say he would whisk me away so they just wave us away. He gives them a small thank you before wrapping his arm around my waist and leads me away. When we are a good distance away he sighs, “I don’t know why you like those people.”

“Because regardless of business they are funny and sweet. Haneul is like the mom I never had, in some weird alternate mafia universe.”

He chuckles, “Are you ready to go? The party is going to be taking a turn very soon.”

I nod eagerly, not wanting to partake in the after party events, “Please, where is Jiho?”

“He’s getting the car.” Jiyong escorts me to the exit of the massive hall. We step out on to the cool autumn night, Jiyong offers me my leather jacket before slipping on his own over his suit. We find a black SUV waiting for us on the curb, Jiho is smiling at me. We didn’t see each other much during the party which is his job, to watch not really interact when Jiyong is around. That is more Jiyong’s rule, such a cute jealous man.

“Did you have fun?” Jiho asks as we all climb into the car, Jiho is driving while Jiyong and I are in the back seat.

“Yep, I almost got into a fight,” I give them both a grin.

“I saw that,” Jiho snickers.

Jiyong clicks his tongue at me, “You need to stop harassing that man, he’s going to actually fight you some time.”

I shake my head, “He wouldn’t dare. Even without you guys backing me up I’m pretty sure I scare him.”

“Of course White dragon,” Jiho teases, “You are a force to be feared.” White dragon, my delight full nickname made to compliment my lovely fiancé, the black dragon of Korea.  The drive home is filled with more harassing jokes and awkward tension between the two. Even though Jiho has said that he has no sexual interest in me, Jiyong doesn’t believe him and really doesn’t like him no matter how hard I try. We get back to our apartment, Jiho parks the car and goes to his smaller apartment a few floors below ours. We ride up the elevator in silence, Jiyong’s fingers are locked with mine as he stares at the golden diamond ring on my finger. It’s a bit flashy for my taste but he loves it. On my other hand is the dragon ring he first gave me almost two years ago.

“Are you okay?” I wonder as we make out way to our bedroom, shedding my tight dress for one of his over sized shirts. He is taking off his suit layer by layer slowly, I can tell he’s thinking about something. It’s heavy on his mind and I makes me nervous that he hasn’t just told me, there aren’t any secrets between us. “You know you can tell me, right?”

He sighs, “I know I can tell you, I’m just not excited to hear your reaction.”

“My reaction?” I walk around the bed to stand in front of him, “Oppa stop being so ominous and just tell me.”

His hands run threw his hair as he tries to find the right words, “They are coming back.”

“They?” I stare at him in utter confusion.

“EXO, they are coming back from America.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

I nod, “I don’t know what else you want me to say.” I turn away from him and crawl into bed. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, just leaves to place his suit in the laundry and puts on his own pajamas. The lights turn off before he climbs in next to me, I can tell he’s hesitant to snuggle closer to me, afraid he upset me. So I roll over and burry myself in his chest.

“How do you feel?” He wonders.

“I feel fine,” It’s not a complete lie.

“Are you sure?”

I hum a yes.

“I want you to do something for me, please.”

I look up at him in the darkness, “Yes?”

“Avoid them. I never tell you who you can’t hang out with and I don’t want to say I’m not allowing you to see them but please give my heart a rest and avoid meetings and parties they might be at for awhile.”

I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to seem them. But it’s not just because my heart still aches for them but because I want to slap each of them across the face with all my might and demand to know why they just left me. I just need to know why, I don’t want them to take me back, I really don’t , I just need that tiny bit of closure so I can put them completely behind me. But from how nervous Jiyong seems to be about it, I can tell this isn’t going to be something we can just ignore.


So here is the first chapter, sorry if it isn’t too exciting, I’ll explain more of what happened during the year as the story goes on.

Xoxo Pretty bird

Untitled...

Untitled…

It was impossible not to be so entranced by such a beautiful boy. A beautiful man. A wonderful human being. A decent human being, who taught the world how to be kind, even if they didn’t realize they were learning. He loves people like they deserve to be loved, making sure to let them know it was okay. It was okay to be loved and to fall in love, that’s what we live for after all. But this boy lives for so much more. This man lives to make others happy, because that’s where he finds his own.

He’s a breath of relief, to see such maturity in a young person, it leaves others in true awe. The way he presents himself, with such confidence that could make you shrink into yourself, feel small. But he has the ability to pull you right out of that state of mind. He’ll make you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. He’s kind and sensitive and all that a man should be.

It was impossible not to notice him. It was impossible not to get caught up.

And it was impossible not to fall in love.

***

He was by no means perfect though. He had a temper. He had a tendency to disregard certain things, even though he didn’t mean to. He could be the life of the party one minute, and a great introvert the next, keeping to himself in an intriguing way. He was intimidating, but he had that aura. He would make you feel like you needed to be his friend, like you needed to know him and be a part of his extraordinary life.

He had spots and blemishes on his face, but make up covered that up well. When he was particularly tired, the circles under his eyes added to that imperfection. He had a bit of a lazy eye, but you couldn’t really tell unless you were dead on staring, and even then you would most likely get lost in the icy green of them, specs of gold.

***

But you never saw him like I did. You never laid next to him like I did. You never felt the warmth of his skin like I did.

And I can still recall, memories far from vague. How his hair was lighter in the sun. A golden brown, or maybe blonde, that had me running my fingers through the strands with little to no notice that I was doing it. His eyes, bright and excited, crinkles on the corners. The dip on his cheek prominently deepened with every laugh shared, every joke told, every happy moment lived. His lips, just like in the photos, and how the world sees them. Pink, and enticing. The way that he spoke, the way that his lips moved and pursed around every word, it was hard not to notice.

And you never felt those lips like I did. They touched my hands, my fingers, my neck. My ears, my hair, my forehead. My temples, my eyes, my cheeks, my nose. My lips. They were gentle, and they were rough. And sometimes, on cold days or nights, they were chapped. They were cold, they were warm. They were mine. Behind closed doors…always.

He was mesmerising.

***

And you never saw him fall like I did.

Takes a grand deal to make a great man fall, but it takes even more to lift him back up.

***

He was superman. He was untouchable, indestructible. But only to the public.

Behind closed doors. Where everything happens.

My touch couldn’t help him. My begging and pleading and attempts at negotiating couldn’t save him.

My love could not save us.

***

What did I do?

What did I not do?

Little did I know, it’s what he had done.

Making Love

I woke up with a sharp jolt. I didn’t have the time to remember the context of the nightmare. The dark room didn’t help. It only lured the images that had faded. The silence didn’t help. It only encouraged the voices of my distress that disrupted my sleep. It was the nightmare so disturbing that it left my heart to beat plangently, causing my ears to ring, making my head ache, tightening my chest.

Cold sweat started to secrete from my bare skin, mixing with the sticky precipitation that was produced from last night’s copulating.

I trembled. I waited for the pounding of my heart to slow down. I thought back the passionate hours to keep my mind from retracting in the darkness. I combated the blood-curling screams with the timbre of my Sakura’s pleased moans and small whimpers. I replaced the scenes of death with the picture of my wife’s pink hair, curtaining her bright green eyes as she erratically move her hips to achieve euphoria.

That’s right. It’s alright if I got roused again and had to relieve it by myself (it’s rude to wake someone up just for such insolent reason.)

I allowed myself to think of anything, everything, just to dispel affective residue of the nightmare.

Think of anything but that.

“Sasuke-kun.” I flinched.

A small, delicate hand patted my back. When I didn’t respond, the hand trailed on to my shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. She scooted closer so she can place her chin on the spot where the curse mark used to reside. “Do you want to talk about it?”

After hearing those words, the dangerous beating of my heart appeased. I bowed down and shook a no.

She made a sound behind her throat, a sign that she’s thinking of ways to distract me from my thoughts. The hand on my shoulder tickled its way down my sole arm. Her nimble fingers traced the visible veins and then it landed on my palm where she drew infinite spirals. She repeated this antic until my breathing went back to normal.

“I’m not supposed to say this.” She began as her hand clasped mine. She pressed her body closer, my bare back feeling her healthy breasts. “But I think Sarada has already forgotten about it, so I guess it is okay to share it.”

I squeezed her hand, silently encouraging her to continue.

She let out a giggle, “When Sarada was six she started a list that she called, ‘Things That I’m Gonna Tell Papa When He Comes Home.’

A small smile graced on my lips. I released Sakura’s hand then gently shrug her off. Understanding my actions, she moved away and began piling the pillows against the headboard. When that’s done, I rested my back on the make-shift lean. I opened my arm, gesturing her to come closer. She happily obliged. She took a small pillow, placed it on my nether region before sitting on my lap. I wrap my arm around her waist. She looped an arm round my neck. I pulled our comforter over our naked body.

“What does it contain?” I mumbled.

“Hmm…” She wondered as her fingers play with my hair. “On the… Let’s say, preface of her list, she said, ‘Papa comes home only once or twice a month. You have to persuade him to teach you something new.’ Then at the bottom, there’s a footnote that says, ‘You have to perfect everything that Papa teaches you Sarada! Shannaro!’

We chuckled quietly in unison. Nuzzling her cheek on the crook of my neck she continued, “If memory serves right, one of her anecdotes is when she finally perfected her shuriken throws. You should’ve seen her solo trainings Sasuke-kun. Every day, I had to tend her hands full of cuts and grazes.”

My eyebrows knotted as Sakura tells the story because of two reasons. One, old friends, regret and longing visited my chest. I wish I was there to see, watch her struggle for greatness.

“Oh! Speaking of training, next to shuriken throwing is, ‘The Day I Finally Created a Katon Goukakyuu!’” She made a circle in the air, her viridian eyes gleaming with pride. “She never faltered even if her cheeks are blistered!”

She laughed softly at the memory. She glanced up and reached for my forehead. “You know what Sasuke-kun?” She tenderly brushed away the bangs that’s covering my other eye then cupped my face, “She reminds me of you.”

And two-Sakura’s right, verbalizing my thoughts perfectly. Sarada reminds me of me, Sasuke, two decades younger. Sasuke with eyes that can shine even if they’re dark as coal. Sasuke who had his head lifted as he chase down his idol, his inspiration, his reason. Sasuke who died in my personal nightmare.

“She embodies you in so many ways. Not that I’m complaining though.” She sighed dramatically then pointedly followed, “But I wish a child would inherit some of my features.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that bad? That… she’s like me?”

‘lub-DUB…’

Do you think that she’ll also commit the same mistakes and sins that I did?

‘lub-DUB.’ Inferiority. ‘lub-DUB.’ Fear. ‘lub-DUB.’ Anxiety. ‘lub-DUB -!’

Do you think she’ll get lost on the darkness too?

‘LUB-DUB, LUB-DUB-!’ Trauma. ‘LUB-DUB, LUB-DUB-!’ Hatred. ‘LUB-DUB, LUB-DUB-!’ Loneliness-

‘LUB-DUB!’

The awful metamorphosis of my heart in the last moment of my childhood,hand in hand, the countless tomoe spiraled in to a constant repetition.

When can you say that you have atoned for the sins you have done?

“Sasuke, love.” I flinched.

Sakura ran her fingers through my hair as her other hand remained on my temple, keeping my bangs from covering my powerful eyes. She held their glare, showing no fear. “That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

I know. But…

“Is that bad?” I asked again, this time, it came out raspy and strained. “Do you think-”

She kissed the tip of my nose then pinched my cheeks, “Of course not! You got it all wrong Sasuke-kun!”

It was her blush and her futile effort to hide her breasts that supported her words, “ahhh I shouldn’t have said that! I’m sorry Sasuke-kun!”  

No. It’s my fault. Sometimes… This heart of mine falters easily when reminded of its old scars.

“Hn.” Having no idea how to return the ambiance of nostalgia, I turned my attention to her belly. In an attempt to distract myself from the rising panic, I started to map out the smooth pattern of her stretch marks.

She gasped at the touch. She replied by tugging at my hair. “It’s alright, Sasuke-kun.”

I have to turn the tables before this conversation went downhill. “What were you trying to say then?”

The crimson hue on her cheeks deepened. I pondered if it’s because the trail of my fingers was leading deep down to her thighs or it’s because of the illocutionary force behind her words.

Or maybe both.

“I remember another anecdote from her list.” She offered with voice strangled between decency and erotica. “T’was the d-day she went home late. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her glasses were broken.”

My hand paused when her words registered. “Who did it?” I asked sharply.

 She massaged through my hair again to calm my nerves, “Sarada was bullied. When I asked her who and why, she won’t tell me because she knows that I’ll make a huge fuss about it.” She let out a melancholic sigh. “It was Naruto’s children who told me about it. Boruto explained, ‘we found her crying under the slide because some jerks broke her glasses and told her that she’s adopted.’

So that’s when she started to doubt her mother.

I pulled Sakura closer and planted a chase peck on her forehead.

She placed a hand on my chest as a response and connected the scars that decorate my skin. “But get this Sasuke-kun-Sarada entitled that anecdote ‘Daddy-like Kid.’ She cracked a smirk. “Himawari told me it was Boruto that calmed Sarada down.”

I kept my expression blank but no doubt she noticed my tense muscles. All of the emotions that surfaced because of the nightmare and unnecessary panic attack died down. However, to my demise, it was replaced by crazy assumptions, fueled by my fatherly instincts, suggesting of what could be the possible future of-

“Darling.” Sakura directed her lips on my ear, “Your jealous side is showing~”

I cringed back to glare at her properly, “I am not jealous.”

She narrowed her eyes mischievously, challenging my infamous glare, “oh really now.” She copied my smirk. “So it is fine that Sarada thinks of Boruto as-”

I dove down to capture her lips, preventing her from saying another word about the ridiculous matter. She giggled at my growls, still teasing through the use of lips and tongue and rising intimacy.

She tried to withdraw from the assaults of my mouth but failed ultimately. She instead let her body melt in to my dominance by audaciously asking for an entrance.

When I refused, she wrapped both arms around my neck and then swiftly shifted in to a straddling position to win back control. She now had me trapped between her legs, boldly showing what’s in between. And to further clarify the contexture of her demands, she lewdly ground her hips, flattening the pillow (and something else beneath it that’s throbbing) that prevents us from colliding.

I groaned out of frustration because that minimal amount of sensual pressure was not enough. And she took this as an opportunity to gasp for air as she annoyingly chortled. She brushed off my bangs again then placed her forehead to mine.

Our eyes met. “Are you okay now?”

I held her gaze. My heart picked up its pace. The countless, rotating tomoe dispel under her emerald eyes.  

Are you okay now?

Emerald eyes that have always been asking those words always have been looking at me even if it makes her cry. Those are the eyes that brought light to our coal black eyes, Sarada. The gleam that I never thought would come back. Those are the eyes that granted me the ability to think of a mirthful place in the midst of my chaotic mind. The place where all the forgotten beautiful memories reside that I never believed that could be revived.

            Am I okay now?

Yes. Those are the emerald eyes that made me remember Sasuke who always die in the nightmares. Those are the beautiful eyes that beaconed as one of the proofs that there is something worth discovering, something worth protecting in this cruel world of ninjas.

“Sasuke-kun?” She caressed my cheeks.

            I captured her lips again, slowly, devotedly, reverting from the animalistic desires earlier. Her hands found their way to my hair again, tying knots, drawing me closer. My shoulders relaxed as the temperature of the room rose once again.

            Do you want to talk about it?

            It was my brother, Itachi’s love that demonstrated me the highest form of unmitigated familial love. It was the love that I have forgotten because it was buried underneath layers of deception, diffidence and corruption.

            “Sa-ku-ra…” My fingers outlined her spine with every syllable of her name, armed with the knowledge that the gesture turns her on.

            Yes. I want to talk about it but…

            It was Naruto, the idiot, which made me realize that I have someone who understands the pain and the loneliness of an orphaned kid starving for love-finding nothing but hatred. It was Naruto who swore that he would always willingly, stubbornly drag my ass back when I lost to the darkness again. It was him who taught me that it’s vacuous to sacrifice your own happiness so that you can cold-heartedly save the world.

            “S-sasuke…” She moaned as my lips ghosted to her jaw, then to her chin and then peppered hot nips on her neck. One of her hand relocated to my chest, drawing smooth lines leading leisurely down to my chiseled abs. She dared an experimental thrust, causing me to bite down at her pulse, earning herself a love mark and prizing me with the sweet sound of her whimpers.

            “Sakura…”

            -it was you who never did give up on loving me in spite of my countless, unforgivable attempts in ending your life. It was you-your lively eyes, your ever loyal heart, your boar-like determination that brought me in to conclusion that one of the justifiable means to obtain peace is to truly, faithfully, unconditionally love.

“Sasuke-kun…” She whined unabashedly as my lips latched themselves to one of her pink, perky breasts. Her hand ventured below the belt, trying to remove the pillow. It was my turn to halt her from getting what she wanted as I amorously embraced her closer, closer, until our torsos mashed. I rolled her other nipple between my teeth, making her arch her back, allowing me to behold a better view of her arousal.

I don’t know how to tell you.

I thought about it as I was on journey to redemption-it was Naruto and Itachi, my brothers who allowed me to forgive the world.

And that, it was team seven that reminded me what’s like to have a family.

“Sa-ku-ra-chan.” I mumbled against the valley of her bosoms. “You’re right…”

So, instead, let me show you…

-you who convinced me that it was time to forgive myself-

“A-about what, Sa-su-ke-kun?”

Let me prove to you…

-you, Sakura Uchiha, who strengthened our bond by graciously adopting my name even if you knew the burden it carried. Even if you knew I would be seldom home, resulting to numerous rumors about our marriage. For example, I chose you because of physical attraction or maybe because I couldn’t be bothered to search for a more suitable vassal to restore the Uchiha Clan.

I returned to her sweet lips and muttered, “I would love to make, I mean, see a child bearing your features~”

That I’m forever thankful…

As a respond to those accusations, you intrepidly showed those people, who would never understand, that the time you can truly say that it is love is when-even if every bits and pieces of flaws are laid bare and even if hope is just a small ray of light, it is enough to sacrifice, to inspire one in holding on and moving on along love and hate.

She shivered at my words. I tried to subtly slide away the pillow between our… a, object of desire but she ceased my attempt by clutching my waist with her muscled legs, pressing her drenched core to my abdomen.

That I love you too.

Darling… I want you to know that one of the things that Sarada listed…” She pulled at my hair to make me look at her irises again, staring me down, stating that her next words are quite important.

They say that there is a thin line between true love and stupidity…

“…she wants a baby brother…”

…I don’t know where we fall Sakura. But, who cares, right?

I narrowed my eyes mischievously, enjoying that flustered expression she had on her face, “oh really now.” I smirked.

We just love.  

My hand moved on its own, searing every inch of skin it fondled.

“I love you Sasuke-kun…” She proclaimed once again.

These words are left unsaid yet you understand.

But before my lone hand wandered to the area where it would minister miracles (as she describes it)it folded into an all too familiar hand sign to give Sakura’s forehead a light tap.

That’s the reason why I chose you.

And it will always be you…

These Three Words (Part Two) | M.C

As it was highly requested, here is part two of These Three Words. btw, the suit Michael posed in IS EXACTLY THE ONE I IMAGINED IT WOULD LOOK LIKE IN HERE IT SCARES ME, THIS BOY HAS CONTROL OF MY BRAIN, IS WEAR. Anyway, enjoy :) 

PART ONE

Tears streamed down my face as I laid in my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. An oh so familiar situation that I had faced on a nightly basis, but this time, the pain was much worse.

I rolled over to check the time on my phone. 1:27AM. By now Michael would have long since stumbled in with some girl and headed to the bedroom. Instead of sounds of pleasure, the house sat in silence. The events that took place just hours before replayed in my head like a horrific nightmare, only this one had come true. It was real and I hated every moment of it. Every second that ticked by brought another inkling of pain, sorrow and sheer regret. How could I have been so stupid? This is exactly why I had sworn to myself to let it be a secret that I took to the grave.

There was noise coming from the hallway, signalling that he was home. I hoisted myself up from the bed and trudged down to the living room to be greeted by him sitting on the sofa, cradling his head.The faint smell of alcohol told the tale of how he had decided to drink the problems away.

“Michael?”

I slowly turned on the light to reveal a sight of despair. His once dapper outfit was a mess, his collar askew, shirt hanging out from his trousers. His eyes reddened and decorated with dark circles.

“Ca-can I get you anything?”

“Coffee… would be great.”

I headed out to the kitchen and fixed us both a brew. My heart was slamming in my chest. While our small exchange of conversation was the most sane we’d had in hours, it wasn’t guaranteed that the rest of the night would play out that way.

I carried the two mugs and set them on the coffee table. Michael ran his pale hands from his mouth to his chin and down the length of his neck.

There was silence for a few moments.

“Where… did you go?” My heart pleaded that it wasn’t with her. Or any kind of woman.

“I walked. And walked… walked for miles, just to think. I ended up at some bar hidden out of the away. Decided to take it out on my liver a bit, but the bitter cold winds sobered me up on the way home…”

“Oh…”

Silence succumbed us once more.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I acted like a jerk.”

“No, you didn-”

“I did. There’s no denying that. It… it was such a shock to hear you say that… after all this time…”

I took in a deep breath and stared at my bare feet for concentration.

“I never meant to tell you. I get it. You have your love life. I shouldn’t have been so hung onto you-”

“But I get it. I get it. It’s just taken so long for me…” he sighed, before signalling for me to sit next to him.

I cautiously took a seat on the sofa next to him, trying hard not to look directly at him in case there was a chance of breakdown.

“Y/N. I had feelings for you for so long. You  took my breath away from the moment I met you. But back in Luke’s 18th, playing truth or dare… you said that Ashton was the hottest in the room and I took that as a hint. It was a sign to me that you weren’t interested… and so I sucked it up. I fought with myself to get over you. Because I had to save me. And after a while, this lifestyle? This was my drug to cure the heartache. It wasn’t the best choice and by no means my favourite… but I needed to stop clinging onto something that I thought would never happen…”

I was shellshocked. Time stood still. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the words I’d just heard.

“You mean-?”

“I loved you, Y/N.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Loved?”

He nodded.

“Past tense. I was so sure I was over you. And then tonight… when you said that? It was like being in a car accident in slow mo. It was so much to take in and I just had to find out… find out if the feelings were still there.”

I swallowed the lump that had been building in my throat.

“And?”

He nodded his head, eyes a burgundy from tears that formed.

“I always have, princess. Always have.”

It was my turn for the display of water works. I collapsed into his arms where he held me so tight but I didn’t care. I loved him. I am in love with him. He brushed the strands of hair from my forehead before pressing the softest kiss on my temple. I looked up, my bloodshot eyes met with his.

He leaned down and pressed his ever so slightly rough lips against mine. The kiss felt like the perfect fit of a puzzle piece that I’d been searching years for. It was electric, passionate and harboured every drop of emotion that both of us felt.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Michael.”

He held me close to his chest, where I could hear the fast paced rhythm which matched what I could feel in my own. He held me until we fell asleep soundly together on the sofa.

MASTERLIST | SONG PROMPT REQUESTS

2

Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson photographed in 1863 // John Adams Elder’s portrait of Jackson (1876)

Closer--Imagine #9

Anonymous asked: Can you do an imagine where you and your crush are roommates and you come home from a really stressful day of school/work. you go into the kitchen and like drop a glass or something, so he comes running out, sees you tearing up and just holds you? flufy if possible please. sorry for so much description thought it might help haha

A/N: I really loved writing this. It was fun getting a chance to write angsty fluff. ;) Thank you for this lovely request. <3


Slamming the door closed, I threw my purse, keys, and jacket on the floor in a chaotic pile, and strutted to the kitchen. I had just gotten home from work and the boss had yelled at me again for something that wasn’t even my fault. Of course, I took the blame for it because the person who was actually responsible was friends with the boss. So much for equality, I thought, huffing. I thumped down the hall like an elephant of the small apartment me and c/n shared as roommates. I didn’t bother saying hi to him as I passed his bedroom door that was cracked. I was seeing red. Anger and sadness was overtaking me and all I wanted to do was get into comfy clothes and shut the world out for a couple hundred years. 

“Hey, y/n, how’d your da–” 

“Fuck off,” I shouted from my room, not bothering to close my door as I tore my clothes off in a haste and threw sweatpants and a hoodie on.

Silence followed my outburst and I stormed down the hall again, heading to the kitchen, passing c/n’s shirtless figure in the doorway of his bedroom. My eyes flitted to his chest for a millisecond before I shoved his chest and continued on my warpath. Normally, his naked chest was a welcome distraction that would make my week the few times I saw it. But right now it was only adding to my fury, since it reminded me that we’d never be living together the way I wanted. And I hated him for it at that moment.

“Put a shirt on, bitch,” I spewed, tasting the bitterness of the words in my mouth as I reached the kitchen.

In a hurry, I began grabbing the washed dishes that c/n had placed in the washing machine and moved like lightning, practically throwing them into cupboards. I had learned that anger made me a whirlwind of productivity and if I couldn’t do something right for my boss at my job I could at least be productive here at home, where I know someone would actually appreciate it. 

But apparently, haste really does make waste. I learned that the hard way as a glass I had placed carelessly close to the edge of the counters fell to it’s death, when my elbow shoved it over the edge as I finished putting the plates away. 

“FUCK!” I shouted, my face flushing with anger. Feeling the red hot tears flood my eyes, I bent down to pick up the pieces. Exhaustion, frustration, and anger pulled me to the floor, and I didn’t have the strength to get up again as my emotions choked me. I curled into a ball on the tiled floor. Sobs escaped my trembling lips as I covered my face with my hands. 

Not a moment later, warm arms wrapped around my fragile body, enveloping me in comfort. Feeling my body being lifted off the ground bridal style, I gripped at c/n’s now hoodie clad chest. Through the tears that relentlessly fell down my face, I saw that c/n had moved us to the couch. As he sank into the cheap sofa we’d purchased together at a yard sale, he gently stroked stray hairs away from my tear-streaked face. 

“Shitty day at work?” his gentle voice whispered.

I nodded, my eyes closed, yet still producing hot tears that he kept brushing away with the soft pad of his thumb. We stayed there for awhile, c/n letting me get out all my frustration through ugly crying. I don’t know how long it was until my loud cries subsided into soft whimpers, muffled by his now damp hoodie. All throughout my episode, he stroked my hair, peppering my temple and cheek with feathery kisses. His grip on me didn’t weaken and I let my body relax. 

“How are you now, darling?” He asked, brushing away the last few tears that were slowly traveling down my blotchy cheeks.

My red eyes met his clear one, and my breath was almost taken away by the concern and gentleness etched into them. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles from staying up late, studying for college exams. 

“I’m better, thanks to you,” I croaked, my voice raw.

“I’ll always be here, y/n. Rain or shine. I’ll always be here,” he reassured. 

I moved so I was straddling him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. Burying my face into his neck, my nose settling on the soft skin, I breathed in his scent. My change in positions hadn’t stopped his hands from working through every knot in my locks. The sensation was one I never wanted to stop feeling and I ran a hand through his own messy hair. My favorite type of hair on him was his bedhead style, which he was sporting today. 

“I’m sorry for being such a wreck,” I mumbled, my lips moving against the skin on the base of his neck. I thought I felt him shiver, but I brushed it off as my imagination. 

“You’re not a wreck. You just need some sleep and someone who will care for you and tell you how great you are at all the things you do,” c/n replied into my hair, his gentle hands running up and down the length of my back. 

And at that, he lifted us off the couch, supporting me with his hands under my butt. A deep blush crawled up my neck, and settled on my cheeks. 

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, my voice barely higher than a whisper. 

“To my bedroom. Where you can sleep and I can be that someone who will care for you and tell you how great you are at all the things you do,” c/n answered, repeating his words, before adding, “Especially being you.” 

I hummed in response, already feeling that sleepiness that came after a good cry. My eyes were closed when I felt my limbs being lowered slowly onto what I guessed was c/n’s soft mattress. His large palm, stroked my cheek as I felt him pull the cool comforter over my limp body. The warmth of his hand left and I opened my eyes to see his retreating form.

Extending my hand, I whimpered loud enough for him to hear me. I was too tired to form words. He turned and a confused expression fell over his face. I curled the fingers of my outstretched hand, telling him to come closer. 

His face loomed over mine as I whispered, barely audible, “Closer.”

He leaned his ear to my lips, so close that when I spoke they were brushing against it. This time, when I moved my lips, there was no questioning his shiver.

“Still not close enough,” I whispered.

He pulled back, looking at me with an amused face. He knew I was teasing him. And I knew he was pretending to be this stupid because he enjoyed it when I did. Finally, he ended our game, and crawled over my still form to slip under the covers on the other side of the bed. I turned and scooted, and he pulled me as close as possible to his body. I sighed in comfort. The boyish smell of his pillows and comforter pulled me deep into sleep like a drug as well as the heat that engulfed me, emanating from c/n’s strong arms. So we slept the day off, and as I laid in his arms, I felt an overwhelming peace, a feeling of safety, settle over me, my tired limbs finally receiving the rest they’d been deprived of after years of feeling lonely. I was home.

i received a question that i’m going to answer publicly because i have no doubt that i will be asked this in the nearish future *hint hint*

question:

Good Morning Courtney. I want free form locs and a while ago I was online looking up info about free form locs. This is the 4th or 5th time doing a big chop and now I want to grow my hair into locs. Is there anything I should be weary about? I looked up how often to wash, how to take care of it, what products to use, and what not. But I don’t have money to buy natural shampoo. Is using synthetic shampoo bad for locs?? Your locs were so pretty why did you cut them off??

answer:

this is a photo of my last set of locs just before i cut them. they were seven months old

i feel like i should start off by saying that they were not free formed. while i didn’t twist or retwist, i did section them and keep them that way by pulling them apart when the roots began to tangle with a neighboring loc. people often confuse thick locs with free formed locs. if mine were free formed i would’ve let my hair section itself naturally

i can only give you tips on how to achieve locs like mine

general tips:

  • less is more. don’t wash too much, don’t retwist too often (if at all), and don’t use a slew of products. if you’re curious, i used Dr. Bronner’s Soap for my hair and castor oil for my scalp.
  • they say not to wet your hair much or at all when you first start but thats bullshit. water activates curls and thats what you want. the curlier your strands get, the more easily they with tangle with one another. locs are tangled hair. i wet my locs with water like every other day right from the start
  • remember: the fewer locs you have or in other words, the fewer sections you create, the thicker an individual loc will be. i makes sense because each loc will have more strands of hair tangled into it. i had 46
  • consider the density of your hair before sectioning. density refers to how closely those strands are packed together on your head. your hair’s density can also be affected by your hair texture, porosity and width. everyones different. the higher the density, the thicker your locs will look overall
  • keep in mind that hair density not only varies from person to person but also, on your own head from section to section. for example, on the temples on my head, my hair strands grow farther apart from one another so as a result, its not as thick. if i wanted all my locs to be as uniform as possible, i would make the sections on my temples a little larger to compensate for the difference in thickness compared to the rest of my hair
  • in order to achieve the thickest locs possible, keep retwisting at a minimum. twisting the hair causes the hair in each loc to pack together more tightly and in turn appear thinner.  i didn’t twist at all and as result, i maintained thick fluffy locs. granted, they were young but as they matured they would’ve remained somewhat thicker than the average person which a similar hair density as mine who chooses to twist often

about washing:

  • i didn’t use shampoos because many have sulfates and parbens and extra shit that my skin and hair doesn’t need. it coats the hair with things that make it seem healthy but in the end causes buildup which can lead to damage if not quickly taken care of. not to mention the moisturizing and conditioning agents in regular shampoos that aren’t super great for locs. mine anyway
  • i used Dr. Bronners Soap in lavender but peppermint is cheaper. I invested in a 32 oz bottle of the stuff and it lasted me six or more months because i always heavily diluted it everytime i used it. you can even purchase a gallon and have that last even longer. i don’t know what your financial situation is like, but think of it as an investment. buy it once and make it last for as long as possible
  • dilution is great because you can make whichever soap you decide to use last longer and also the more you dilute it with water, the easier it is to wash out. easy in, easy out. you don’t want soap getting trapped in your locs. it can cause buildup
  • keep in mind that i had short locs, so i didn’t need to use much soap and that i wasn’t playing sports and/or sweating in a gym everyday so washing often wasn’t necessary. i also didn’t have any scalp conditions to care for

why i cut my locs:

  • because i no longer wanted them. thank you for the compliment

take these tips and adjust as needed to make them work for you. you’ll figure it out in time. good luck! :) xx