Summary: Sometimes a normal life is a good one to lead; its nice…its easy… But sometimes, normal isn’t the way that things were meant to be. And when you’re chosen as a possible candidate for one of the kingdom’s 7 princes, life isn’t as nice and easy as you always presumed it to be…especially when you catch the eye of more than one of them…
A/N: I will warn you all now, that this fic is going to be VERY different to my usual stuff, but you can expect a hell of a lot more twists, turns, secrets, and debauchery than ever before… ;)
Disclaimer: I will put warnings on any chapters that challenge social acceptance, however, as an overall warning, this story will contain themes of sex, fear, control (of one person over another), and elements of a gothic nature!
All the stories that
you’d ever heard about the castle had been about how music sang from the walls,
how long clouds of silk curtains billowed gently in the breeze that wafted
through the grand windows, how the place was decorated with ornaments,
paintings, crystal vases galore…
But the first thing
you noticed as you walked through the tall, oak doorway…
…was the darkness.
‘I don’t think we’re
allowed to be down here.’ You murmur to the man pulling you along by the hand,
your eyes wide as you watch the water dripping down the dank walls of the corridor
you’d come to find yourself in after climbing down numerous stairs to what you
thought would be the library, but what was starting to look more like a
‘Don’t worry. I know
where we’re going.’ He murmurs amused, the humor-filled lilt of his voice
not working to reassure you at all as you begin to drag your feet, struggling
to hold the bottom of your dress off of the floor so that it wouldn’t get wet
as you watch him stare excitedly in front of himself.
‘I really think
we should head back- what if someone sees-‘
You’re cut off when
he suddenly stops, spinning back to pin you against the wall, his eyes dancing
excitedly over your face for a moment before he pushes his lips against yours,
ducking his head down and softly pressing his mouth to yours, practically being
able to feel the adrenaline running through him in the kiss.
‘I have to show you.’
Is all he says as he pulls away, staring at you almost piercingly as he grins,
and you swear you see his eyes flash a different colour momentarily, your heart
racing in your chest with the sight of the abnormality, before you’re being
kissed roughly, yet briefly, again, and once more he begins to drag you along the corridor,
his grip on your wrist having tightened somewhat compared to before.
You remain silent as
you follow after him, the only sound being your slightly ragged breathing, trying not to trip over your feet as he out-paces you,
getting lost in your thoughts as the image of his eyes flashing repeats over
and over in your mind. But just as you go to stop him once again, you look up
to see that you’d arrived at the end of the dark corridor, a large solid oak
door standing in your path.
‘This is it.’ He whispers
to himself, turning to look at you with his lip caught between his teeth as he grins, the
expression telling you that you were meant to be as excited as him, but all you
could focus on was the way your heart was racing in your chest at the prospect
of the unknown, your nervousness making you stare at the gold buttons
decorating his chest rather than being able to look him in the eye.
murmurs, the unexpectedness of the word forcing your gaze to his, and the
minute you look into his eyes you wish you didn’t; seeing the same flashing of colour
greeting you as he grins down at you devilishly.
Heav·en /ˈhevən/ noun i. You won’t have to die to find it. It’s the way their eyes look when the sun hits just right. It’s finding the moon dangling from your tonsils. When the sunset breaks through bare tree limbs during the coldest part of winter and suddenly everything is on fire. ii. You’re turning gold and I’m melting on your tongue and we’re crashing like waves and we’re alive. iii. We find a room filled with white noise and too much television static and when you speak it’s like you’ve breathed in too much balloon helium and we’re just kids at your best friend’s birthday party again. iv. I’m overloading my senses and everything is pastel and slightly off kilter like when you step off the ferris wheel and you saw the whole town with it’s ugly yellow street lamps but it felt beautiful from above it all. v. You won’t have to die to find it.
Hell /hel/ noun i. This kitchen is too cluttered with empty spice containers and a broken coffee pot and tea that we both pretend to like because we know it’s good for our health. I keep burning myself on the stove top. You stay silent at the dining room table. ii. I stand on the edge of the tallest building in the city and I beg myself to jump and you beg me to stay and we both ignore the fact that the wind has the ultimate say. iii. Staring at the ceiling fan in the dead of night gives me a headache and there’s a blue glow from the television and you stare at it and I haven’t seen you blink for the past two minutes and I wonder how many times your heart beats per second. iv. In art class I lose my focus and I watch the paint dry and some of it drips down the length of the canvas and I have violent flashbacks of blood dripping down the expanse of my arm. v. Red and white will clash every time. This isn’t a fashion statement. It’s the way my blood dries weird against the porcelain counter top.
An·gel /ˈānjəl/ noun i. Crystal blue eyes and a venomous heart. Don’t bite too deep, don’t you remember Snow White’s story? ii. Sleeping on clouds or silk sheets and pretending it’s the same. Speaking in lullabies or riddles and pretending it’s the same. Sleeping with one eye open or not sleeping at all because it’s all the same. iii. Don’t pretend you know how this is going to end. If I step off the edge, my wings might give out. I might fall. He might push me. iv. When you fall everything blurs and you count your blessings but then you realize you have none. The prayers don’t work for you. You were supposed to answer them, not make them. v. He didn’t believe in you and now here you are on earth and it doesn’t look like He promised.
De·mon /ˈdēmən/ noun i. You play hopscotch when you can’t sleep and you never count sheep because they’d all be foolish enough to run straight into the fire. ii. Sunsets are beautiful because you know it’s the last bit of light you’ll get before the darkness descends. iii. You were lied to all your life. This isn’t dark. It’s red and yellow and orange. It’s a bonfire. It’s the sunset. We’re your last shot of light before the darkness. iv. I’m not the bad guy, I was just dealt a bad hand. v. Don’t tell me this isn’t a card game when every time you’ve got the winning round.
God /ɡäd/ noun i. This is vengeful and you’ve got a heavy hand and I don’t think you ever knew what it meant to forgive. ii. Your pearly gates rusted over – who are you to deny me access? iii. This is like an abandoned child hospital. Look around. They were all bright and full of life and now you’re just pushing them out to get yourself off. iv. I never owed you anything. This was my home and you infested it. I never had a chance. You stacked the deck. The ace is always up your sleeve. v. You’re a control freak. I have no sympathy. What did you expect? Noah built the ark. He waited it out. He won. Don’t you get it? vi. I’m Noah.
Dev·il /ˈdevəl/ noun i. You fell and now you never get any prayers. I fell and they locked me up. I should have understood sooner. ii. “Don’t double cross me, I’m still the one with the throne. You’ve just got a bunch of clouds.” iii. Your army steals. His manipulates. iv. You’re no better. v. His heart was supposed to be pure white light. Yours was supposed to be deep and dark and devastating. Mine is just red. vi. It’s red and it’s beating and I’m alive and I got both of your worst qualities but I know how to wait out the storm.
Fandom: Frozen AU. Set after shipwreck but before coronation day. 17th Century. Pairing: Kristanna (Kristoff/Anna) Rating: M (this part, all in all, is not too bad but this fic as a whole is horrible so please use caution) A/N:
I made a separate sidebar thing on my page that is specifically for Wandering Hearts content to make it all easy to find since this thing just keeps growing. xoxo.
PREFERENCE #2: How You Sleep Together (not sexually)
lives a dangerous life; despite his charmingly arrogant attitude, about the
meta-humans he fights, that make it seem harmless. But at night, when reality
sets in for him, that he could have died. That he could have easily never seen
you or the team again, he feels scared. And you know that about him. He doesn’t
hide those fears from you, (although he wouldn’t be able to if he tried, the
man held his heart on his sleeve).
So when he
comes home, and you can see the affects begin to overtake him, you know. You
sit beside Barry, pulling him to the comfort of your bed and let him know you’re
ready to listen. The two of you talk for hours or minutes depending on the type
of day, and when you both start to settle down for bed, Barry pulls you close
to him. Wrapping one arm around your waist and tucking his nose into the crook
of your neck as you bring his arm tighter into you.
what he loved. This moment with you that just made all his worries and doubts slip
away even if it was just for a night. For a little while, all he had to think
about was the way your bodies held so close to one another that he swore he
could feel your heartbeat slow down and how your skin would smell of your
favorite jasmine scented lotion. Sure it was cheesy, and he’d never admit it to
Joe or Cisco, or even you, but then again Barry has always been a sentimental
guy in matters of the heart.
reporter, Iris is almost never home early. If she wasn’t at Picture News, she
was out finding a new piece for her column. She would stay up all night, if
that meant she’d get a good story from it. And then she had her unpaid second
job as part of Team Flash, on top of it all. She was hard-working, no one could
would finally get home, she’d feel exhausted. Usually dreaming of nothing more
than the silk sheets and cloud shaped pillow that awaited her. You’d be asleep,
as she tip toed her way in, closing the bedroom door careful enough not to wake
you. Quickly, she gets out of her clothes and into her PJs before slipping into
bed. The only sound coming from the comforter rustling. Her eyes are heavy, but
she doesn’t give into sleep right away. Next to her, your back is turned as you
lay on your side, asleep.
inches its way onto her face, as she watches you breathe in softly. Instinctually,
Iris leans down pressing her lips against your forehead. The corners of your
mouth twitch, like you’re about to smile and she brushes her fingers across the
same spot for a few seconds. The action is full of love, even though you’re not
awake to witness it. She drops, helplessly, into her pillow, soon after. She’s
asleep within minutes, your shoulders brushing against one another as your
chests lift up and down. Slow and content.
to know about Cisco is, is that he almost never sleeps in a bed. You’re more
likely to find him sprawled out on his couch in yesterday’s clothing than on a
mattress with PJs. And you’re partially to blame for this. The two of you have
the best all night marathons.
usually start with an episode or a bet that you could beat him in Call of Duty
and suddenly it would be three am. The two of you just recently asleep and stretched
out on the couch, the season three finale of Big Bang Theory playing on the television.
Cisco’s arm dangles around you, your head is limp against his shoulder with his
own leaning on top of yours.
always the most comfortable position to wake up in, in the morning, but you
never mind. Waking up curled in Cisco’s arms, as his heart beat thumps against
your body and he gives you a lazy smile in his morning daze will always trump
any momentary neck cramp.
a bed hog. Unknowingly, she’d sprawl out across the mattress, stretching out
her so one arm lays limp against your chest and an ankle intertwines with one
of your legs. You told her this the third time you slept together and a blush
instantly crept onto her face. She had turned away from you, slightly
embarrassed with her cheeks turning a bright red and you had to reach out and
touch her shoulder quickly to reassure her.
saying it was a bad thing. In fact, you thought it was cute. How even in her
sleep, she’d instinctively reach out for you. You saw one night, how her body didn’t
so much as spread out wide like an X, but that it would reach to your side so
that her feet intertwined with yours and her arms would lay straight across
you. The action made you feel wanted, and filled you with a (slightly) proud
feeling that a girl as kind and smart as Caitlin wanted you. At times you had
to nudge her away so you could fit more than half way on the bed, but soon she’d
find you again. And to be honest, you loved it.
much of a cuddlier when it came to going to sleep. It took some time before you
were able to convince him that cuddling in bed wouldn’t be the worst thing in
the world. And it wasn’t that he didn’t like touching you, in fact he loved to.
Loved kissing you and holding you so close he could feel your breath against
he had was a comfort issue. He can never immediately finding a good position to
sleep in, always tossing and turning. So, when he wraps an arm around you in
bed, or you lay your head against his chest he feels obligated to stay completely
still, worried more about you being comfortable than anything else. In return,
he sacrifices his sleep.
this, as the two of you settle into bed for the night, both on your respective
sides, Harry can’t help but to reach out for you. Your hand lays between your
two bodies and he laces his fingers with yours, using his thumb to trace
circles onto your palm. There’s no cuddling, but Harry can’t help himself to
hold at least a piece of you. Letting you know everything he feels in the way
he grips your hand, tracing designs of nonsense into your skin.
As a cop
and father, his days can be pretty stressful. To the point, where there are
times he just collapses into the bed. Too tired to do anything else. No words
are needed to be exchanged for you to know the kind of day he’s had. You prop
yourself on an elbow, biting your lip in thought. You press your chin on his
shoulder, as his back faces you and he looks thoughtfully in front of him. Sleep
being late as usual.
run comfortingly along his arm, letting him know that you are here, that he isn’t
alone. In mid brush, he reaches across himself and grasps onto your hand,
pulling your knuckles to his lips. They stay there for a second, telling you
how much he is thankful for you. Joe and you have a whole conversation through
silence and small touches, where nothing else is needed. And soon, you both
lull into a deep sleep.
This was requested by a lovely and patient person ages ago. I’m sorry it took me forever, but I hope you like it!
pine: if you could only smell one scent for the rest of your life, what would it be?
does the smell of nature count? like, when you go outside and you take a big ol sniff and it’s like, trees and shrubs and stuff. that probably.
silk: list songs you listen to for a jam
clouds: list your top 5 songs at the moment and how they make you feel
imma just combine these two questions
gravitythis is my most favorite song, it’s honestly the most beautiful song i’ve ever heard. funny how it’s a song about romance… but it does really remind me of myself a lot. love is scary. (also it’s my #1 pining!keith song via klance)
praying i’ve been obsessed with this one for the past few days. i’m not religious or anything, but damn it really is a powerful song. i’m so proud of kesha. it hits me personally too, what with some of the things kesha has gone through.
celeste i just really like the way this one sounds! this kinda music is my jam. also it hella reminds me of viktor and yuuri from yuri!!! on ice, haha. i need to remember to put together an amv for them with this song.
fire womani’ve been listening to this song a lot lately ‘cause for one, i’m sonic trash and therefor crush 40 trash, but it’s such a banger. it reminds me of keith. (also it reminds me of lup from the adventure zone lmao)
bang bang (my baby shot me down) mostly because ever since season 3 came out i cannot stop thinking about how vulnerable lance is to getting manipulated by Lotor’s squad and narti mind controlling him into shooting one of his teammates :’D (specifically keith,,,,)
You just shut the dresser drawer. The cloud-like silk of your new panties pressed tight against your shower fresh skin. You were still a bit red from the hot water and the lotion buzzed the scent of vanilla. Ashton really didn’t have to buy you all this the other day but-
“I need to treat my baby girl like the princess she is.” Ashton had told you after the pink tissue paper hit the duvet and you tried to protest. His palms found your jawline, fingers keeping your lips from saying more. “My lips”, as Ashton referred to them.
The high rise penthouse was quiet, as you were the only one home. It was Sunday night, close to 7:00, and pouring rain. Ashton was going to be home soon, driving back from the airport, a 2 week long business trip in Singapore.
And you hated that because those people in suits took your boyfriend’s time. Took him away from you. They took his dirty blonde curls and saw them combed back and tamed. His body covered and wearing the Armani suit like it was made with his broad shoulders in mind. His strong hands that gave controlled and planned gestures to skillfully explain just how to get the deal done. Done perfectly, and in his way. And oh, his eyes, his burning hazel eyes that pierced them with the promise that they needed him. Said, straightforward and with no possible pretense: Success.
You missed him, so much it made your skin feel tight and itch with the necessity to be grabbed. Clutched and pulled. Those hands pinning those Saint Laurent cuff links that should be gripping your waist. Fitting like the pinks curved into sticky orange of the sunset hanging over Manhattan. The cold buckle of his belt that had to be rubbing into your spine as you bent over. Needed it. All of it. All of him.
It was torrential rain and….and Ashton was driving. You needed him home and safe and you hated this worry. He was gone for 2 weeks and he was their’s but he is yours. You picked up your phone and dialed before falling onto the sheets. Sheets that smelled like Tom Ford and Dior, like his skin and that meant home. If you could crawl into his chest and never leave that could work.
It barely rang twice before he answered.
“Love,” was his simple answer. His deep, calm voice sparked at the source to light up and travel across the cities as live wire, electrifying every nerve you had. And you felt him everywhere, toes and fingertips and chest and eyes, knees and hips and fuck, underneath the silk.
“Ash,” you breathed into the phone, mouth wide open. No shame.
“My love,” Ashton sighed. And you knew his knuckles were under his chin, driving one handed as he listened to your voice through the speakers of his Bentley. The charcoal one. The same one he fucked you with his fingers in on the night he told you he loved you. Just this phone call was getting you winded, thinking, thinking, thinking.
“I miss you.” You don’t care that you sound lost and needy. You are.
“And I you,” he said. Controlled. Always controlled, except around you.
His words ended there, so you fill the silence.
“I wanted to know if you were close. It’s, baby it’s raining so hard and I need you home. Safe.”
Again, it’s quiet. You can hear the rain hitting his car through the phone and the panicked drops of water are in time with your own anxiety.
“Baby-” You start to say, to make sure he’s still there. Maybe his reception was cutting out or something-
“I’m still here,” Ashton sounded, cutting you off gently. You blink up at the ceiling and rest your hand on your bare stomach. “Okay,” You say weakly, nodding fervently. Just need you baby. Need you….
“Princess,” Ashton begins, and you absolutely light up at that, wiggling into sitting position and gasping almost inaudibly. Almost.
“Now princess, calm. Be calm…” He replied in a soothing voice, sensing the rabbiting of your heart miles and miles away. “Breathe, baby girl.”
So you did, breathed. Casting a look towards the hallway of your bedroom and at his side of the closet. A hot lick of bravery shot up your legs, mixing into your thighs. “Daddy….” You breathed.
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line, then silence. Then the clearing of his throat. “Princess,” Ashton muttered admonishingly. In that tone. The one that meant everything was perfect as long as you had each other. Each requiring the other to be driven insane. Getting off on it.
“But Daddy, I miss you so much it’s been so long and, and I haven’t…”
“Haven’t what, darling?” Ashton encourages softly, seeping into your stomach and twisting the want, cranking the dial to “desperation.” He knows. Always knows you.
“Haven’t touched…” You answered reluctantly, allowing your voice to drop off before fully finishing your sentence.
“Yourself, my girl? Haven’t touched yourself?” Ash supplies politely.
You nod, forgetting that he cannot in fact see you, before realizing and mumbling a noise that can be taken as a “yes.”
“Oh, my gorgeous girl,” Ashton sighed and chuckled faintly. You let out a whine just after, pulling a “tsk” from Ashton.
“Kitten, don’t whine.” Ashton instructed.
“Daddy, come home.” You replied, getting up and padding over to his hanging shirts, fingers dragging across each one, savoring the feeling to your skin.
“I’ll get there when I get there,” he said as you opened his drawer and yanked out a forest green sleep t-shirt. Pressed to your nose, you drank the scent from his shirt: his cologne and aftershave. His hair and his skin.
“I can’t wait much longer, Ash I-”
“What happened to Daddy, my love?” Ashton asked thoughtfully but with discipline. You stopped mid step, tripping a little.
“Daddy, I’m…I’m sorry.” He was going to play this game all night. Both of you were.
“That’s my girl. My good girl. So sweet. But so impatient, huh? Can’t wait any more?”
“Mmm, no,” You said, biting your lip hard. He can tell by the way you sound because he’s now saying,
“No biting, baby girl. Don’t hurt yourself.”
Your lip popped free from your canines, the canines Ashton so adored. He called you his pup. “I can’t wait,” You repeated, feeling pathetic but so alive.
“I know, shh…I know,” Ashton said. “So why don’t you go lay down in bed, beautiful, and do as I tell you?”
Shivers run down your back and up to your bare chest. Heaving now.
“Okay, what?” Ashton asks, voice and intentions clear.
“That’s good. Now are you on the bed?” Ash asked as you sat yourself down on the fluffy black pillows and shook your hair back. “Mmhmm, I am, Daddy.”
“Excellent, doing so well, kitten. Now, take your panties off. I know they’re all you’re in, you hate wearing those pj’s, don’t you princess?”
“I hate it,” You whisper and slide the silk down your legs, it pools around your ankles, the barely there fabric.
“The baby blue ones I got you before I left?” He asks. You nod and remember to say “Yes, Daddy.”
“Now love, keep me close as you take your free hand and reach down to your tits, okay?” Ashton tells you more than asks, accent lilting with seduction only he can have. Can ooze.
You make a moaning sound deep in your throat as an answer, a conformation, and do as you are told. Silence save for the pattering of rain out the blinds covered windows. City lights blurry but shining through. It’s dark in the room but not enough to hinder the sight of your body. Silence but for that.
“Now play, kitten.”
Your fingers swipe across your nipples, the silver studs cold and so good. Ashton clears his throat at the sound of your moans and speaks again after you get warmed up. “Lick your fingers and rub down to your belly button.”
You have a few Van Gogh designs on your stomach from your saliva, subtly wet. Ashton told you to then spell out his name with your red lipstick across your navel.
“Lower, lower…” he rasps. And you do.
“Lick your fingers again, love, and pat your pretty little pussy,” he tells you, a trace of something different in his voice. He must be close. Close to home, he’s still on the road. Moving, moving, moving.
Your warm fingers against your throbbing center makes you hiss and whimper. You let your noises drain straight into the phone, turning your head to feel the security of your boyfriend not too far away. Can’t be.
“That’s it, baby girl. You’re such a good girl for Daddy, you know that? I love you so much. Now rub your clit baby, run your little fingers up and down hard. Hard for me, yeah?” Ashton was rougher in his tone now, needing this more. As if he wasn’t desperate for it all along. You knew he was, and that’s what pushes your fingers against your soaking wet pussy and the gasp right up from your throat. Feels like it’s from your heart. “Daddy!”
“I know baby girl, it’s so fucking good, huh? You know just what you need. You’re such a perfect girl for me, I can’t wait to get home and fuck you.”
He’s close. You feel it. Can feel it in your fingers through to your heat, down to your toes and in your skull. “Daddy, please get here, please,” you’re practically sobbing with how good this all feels, hips swiveling as you turn over and grind into the pillow. You catch Ashton’s shirt in your line of vision across the bed and lunge for it. “I, I have your shirt Daddy, and I, I want to use it.”
There’s a beat of silence and you can just imagine it being filled with Ash gripping the wheel harder before he answers.
“Use it baby, I’d love that.” His voice his so rough. His shirt is so soft.
“Nngh,” you let out in ecstasy as you bring the green shirt down to your pussy and rub. “Smells like you,” You let him know.
“Baby, you’re so amazing.” Ashton sounds closer, like he pressed a button and is now on the phone. Walking up to you, you know it. The shirt is almost the perfect friction, but it’s not Ash. Not his fingers or thigh or lips or cock.
“Oh, Daddy, oh, fuck.” Now you’re close.
You take the time you know he’s taking in the elevator to grind and flex your calf muscles against the bed and flip over to breathe. You left yourself at the edge, not yet thrown over. Silence except the rain.
The door opens and closes. Keys are thrown somewhere hard. Then he’s there in the doorway, tie loosened and button up sleeves bunched to his elbows. Hair neat but his fingers definitely ran through it. And his eyes, burning through you.
He speaks first because he’s your Daddy and you’re his princess.
“I’m so sorry I left you,” Ashton says.
Your fingers drop the shirt and your hips are finally, fucking finally being held again, his lips on yours and your neck and your legs bracketing him tight.
“It’s okay Daddy, please-”
“Shh, princess, I’ve got you…”
No silence. Heavy breathing and gasps and moans and rustling sheets and clothes being ripped absolutely apart. Rain and thrusts and screams and nails scraping his back. Hands against your ass and hips and his body is yours again.
“You’re mine again,” you rush to get out as you steady yourself in his lap, grinding. Ash looks at you, into your eyes and somewhere in the flecks of dark green and blown out pupils a certainty washes over you both.
“I always was, love.”
And there is a storm that night, tossing and turning in the sheets. A lightning storm. And has he fucks you deep into the mattress several minutes later and the room is lit up by a strike from the sky, he kisses your neck and breathes into your skin.
“What?” You asked as you knotted your fingers into his sweat drenched curls.
You know this is true, always did. But something about the way his promise curves into the air as the thunder and strike of electricity enters the atmosphere outside makes you know in your soul and bones, right here and now, that yes, forever.
Because nothing this electrifying can be temporary.