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#Ignore the wavy part of her skirt (the part with the lace on the ends) and you’ll see how she actually stands
sokkascroptop · 4 years
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traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 14
part 1 | part 13 | part 15
A/N: Just a warning, if you all hop in my asks saying Y/N x Katara Rights!! i’ll cut you :) so this chapter is kind of a filler and was so hard to write?? but it’s needed because of literally one part and you’ll know what it is when you read it. Also, Katara and Y/N separately have One Brain Cell that serves as impulse control but when they’re together they cancel out and they would rather die than think.
Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. They had all decided to turn in early since Sokka wanted them up at the crack of dawn, but Y/N couldn’t stop tossing and turning, thinking about the little village on the water down below them that was suffering so much. Suffering because of her nation. Their nation. Katara was right, she felt cold and heartless doing nothing, but Y/N wasn’t sure of what she even could do for them.
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Seeing the rundown fishing village was the worst part of their journey so far. Y/N had never imagined in her wildest dreams that there were Fire Nation citizens living in such poverty. At home, in Capital City, a pretty picture was painted of all the towns in their nation, even towns like this one, where steel mills were built to provide their armies with weapons; actually, especially these towns.
“Look at this place. We have to do something!” Katara said as soon as they stepped onto one of the docks. 
Sokka stopped in his tracks. “Uh no, we can’t waste our time here. We have a bigger mission we need to focus on. These people are on their own.” He waved his hands, signifying the end of the discussion. 
However, Katara was just getting started. Aang and Y/N shared an uncomfy look as the two Water Tribe siblings began arguing. “These people are starving, but you’d turn your back on them? How could you be so cold and heartless?”
“I’m not turning my back!” Sokka said defensively. “I’m just being realistic. We can’t go around helping every rinky-dink town we wander into. We’ll be helping them all by taking out the Fire Lord.”
“Hey, Loudmouth!” Toph smacked a hand over Sokka’s lips. “Maybe we should be a little quieter when we talk about ‘taking out the Fire Lord’.” 
“Katara, be reasonable about this,” Sokka said quietly. “Y/N gets it.”
At the sound of her name, Y/N looked up from where she was dragging her sandal between the slats of wood, trying to become invisible. Katara and Sokka both looked at her expectantly. “Katara, I’m sorry but I think Sokka is right.” She frowned at her own words. “The mission needs to come first. It will help everyone in the long run.”
“Let’s just get what we need and go.” Aang tried to sound upbeat but everyone knew he was just trying to defuse any more arguments. 
Sokka laid out his schedule across their campsite right over Y/N’s lap. As Toph, Aang and Katara bent mud out of the river’s water and boiled it to drink, Sokka and Y/N peered over the paper. She couldn’t read any of Sokka’s messy handwriting but she was able to get the gist of things with the copious color coding. Sokka was crouching over her shoulder mumbling to himself. 
She turned to him. “Does it ever stop?” She asked.
Sokka grunted, “Huh?” he continued to look over the schedule, tracing the lines with a finger. 
“That little hamster-weasel running on the wheel that powers that brain of yours. Does he ever stop?”
Sokka narrowed his eyes and stood up, completely ignoring her which made her giggle. “Because we spent the whole day here, we’re going to have to wake up every morning forty-three minutes earlier to make it to the Fire Lord in time for the invasion.”
“Forty-three minutes,” Katara deadpanned. 
“Well I’m not waking up early,” Toph said, lying back on the dirt.  
Y/N reached up and yanked on the hem of Sokka’s tunic until he paid her attention. “Yeah, me either, bud. I don’t get up before that sun rises.”
“Then we’re just going to have to take potty breaks with food breaks.” 
There was a chorus of, “ewww” from the rest of the group but Sokka looked unperturbed. “It’s efficient!! It doesn’t matter, we have to leave first thing in the morning.” Sokka rolled up his schedule and stomped off to his sleeping bag leaving the four of them to wonder how he became the one in charge.
---
Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. They had all decided to turn in early since Sokka wanted them up at the crack of dawn, but Y/N couldn’t stop tossing and turning, thinking about the little village on the water down below them that was suffering so much. Suffering because of her nation. Their nation. Katara was right, she felt cold and heartless doing nothing, but Y/N wasn’t sure of what she even could do for them.
Y/N sighed and turned over for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night. She grimaced as her shoulder rolled right onto her hair, yanking it painfully from her scalp. She sat up pulling her hair around to the front. She’d never thought much about it before, always putting it in a braid to keep it out of her face while sparring. Now that she was walking around the Fire Nation with it down all the time to hide her identity, she was much more aware of it. She couldn’t remember the last time it was cut, it was as long as Katara’s and the humidity had made it wavy. It was heavy and thick and always made her hot when the sun was shining. 
She ran her fingers through it a couple times, pulling at some tangles (that was another downside to it being down all the time) then slid out of her sleeping bag. She padded quietly barefooted past Toph, who was next to her and walked in the direction of the village. She climbed a little hill and sat with her knees pulled up in the grass overlooking the small water town. Thick black smoke billowed from the towers, even though it was well into the night. 
“Couldn’t sleep?” Y/N jumped at the sudden voice but settled as Katara sat next to her, pressing their arms together. “Sorry.”
“I see that you couldn’t either.”
“Every time I close my eyes I see those villagers,” Katara mused. 
“Me too.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “I thought you agreed with Sokka on leaving them to deal with everything on their own.”
“I was wrong,” Y/N admitted. “I think I wanted to ignore what was happening because I didn’t want to believe that my nation would let this happen, but it’s right in front of my eyes. They let these people down. I want to help in some way.” 
“Do you have a plan?” Katara was smiling now. 
Y/N smirked. She hadn’t known the girl for long, but it was like their minds had already melded. “Kind of. But I think I need the help of a really powerful waterbender.”
---
“My mom used to tell me stories about the spirits,” Y/N used her thumb to wipe a line of red paint down Katara’s chin. They were sitting on the edge of the bank near the muddy water. The tiny village was across from them, quiet for the night. “There was one that was my favorite and she was called The Painted Lady. Close your eyes–” Y/N wiped the red paint over Katara’s eyelids and made curling lines over cheekbones. “–she was a river spirit. It’s the best persona you could have for where we are. If anyone sees you they’re going to think that’s who you are.” She wiped the leftover paint on her skirt. 
Katara donned the wide brimmed hat they had found and Y/N helped her position the lace netting around her face. Y/N pulled the hood of her black cloak up and she hopped in one of the canoes. She crouched down on the bench as Katara created a mist to hide the boat and began to bend the water around them and push them towards the factory. 
It took most of the night to distribute the food they had stolen. The boat was only so big and two trips had to be made to get enough which made it all more risky but both of the girls knew that it would all be worth it in the end. When they reached the shore Y/N collapsed with fatigue on the sand while Katara washed the paint off with clean water. 
Katara sat down heavily next to her. She sighed but she was clearly pleased with what they had done. 
“Katara… I need your help with something.”
---
“Are you sure you want to cut it all off?”
Katara hovered over Y/N’s shoulder holding the blade Y/N had stolen from Sokka’s bag when she stole his cloak. Slowly, she reached out and touched a few strands of hair at Y/N’s back.
Y/N nodded. “Right here.” She pointed to her shoulder. She stared straight ahead into the water as she spoke, not trusting herself to look back at her friend. “Hair is our honor. I know it’s silly, it feels so stupid to be so attached to something so insignificant like hair, but I just couldn’t do it before. I think I still believed in the back of my mind that I could go back; that I could be accepted back. But, not anymore. And I don’t think I want to. Not until it’s some place I can be proud of again. I cannot have honor in a nation I don’t even find honorable. I need redemption for myself. I need to prove to myself that I am not like them anymore. And step one is cutting all ties,”–Y/N took a deep breath–”so get to cutting.”
---
The next morning, Y/N woke to shouting. Before she was able to even see clearly she had jumped to her feet and grabbed her sword. Only then did she realize it was Sokka yelling. 
“What’s going on you guys?” Y/N rubbed her sleep bleary eyes. Katara and her had walked back with the sun on the horizon. Neither one of them could have gotten more than an hour of sleep. 
“Appa’s sick! It’s awful!” Sokka wailed.
Y/N reached over and patted the sky bison on the snout. He gave a large groan as if to emphasize he wasn’t feeling well. “Aw, poor guy.”
“I didn’t know you cared so much, Sokka,” Toph said as she scratched under Appa’s chin.
“We might as well just throw out the whole schedule!” One look at the others, who were glaring in his direction, sent him stumbling forward to hug Appa’s huge neck. “And I’m concerned because my big furry friend doesn’t feel well.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” Y/N rolled her eyes in Katara’s direction.
Sokka did a double take. “Your hair.”
Y/N reached up to touch the ends self-consciously. “Yeah.”
“Who’s hair?” Toph asked.
“Y/N cut her hair!” Aang exclaimed. 
Toph’s glassy eyes widened. “How short!?” 
“It’s at my shoulders,” Y/N replied. 
“When did you cut it?” Sokka furrowed his brow.
Y/N shrugged. “Last night.”
Before Sokka could ask more questions, Katara broke in. “I think we should head into town for some medicine for Appa.” 
---
Y/N walked in the back of the group next to Katara. “How did you… you know?” She cocked her head back in the direction of their camp.
Katara smiled mischievously. “I found these purple berries and fed Appa a ton of them. He just has a stomach ache.” Both of them began giggling which earned them a suspicious look from Sokka. 
“What are you laughing about?” 
“Nothing!” Y/N waved a hand around her. “We’re talking about how much the village has changed.”
Indeed the village was much livelier due to the food Katara and Y/N had delivered. And like Y/N suspected, they all thought it was because of The Painted Lady. Shoe had commended her for bringing them food in the night. When they found out that there was no medicine in the town, Y/N knew what Katara had planned for the extra night they were going to have to stay. 
---
Sokka had ignored Y/N the whole day. If he had done so a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have thought for a second about it. But now, they were friends, they sparred every evening but even when they weren’t sparring they still talked. She watched him plan for the invasion or he watched her and Katara make dinner. 
Silence had never been so deafening. 
And finally the silence was broken during dinner. 
“You said that you went and cut your hair in the middle of the night.” 
The spoon that was halfway between her bowl and her lips almost slipped through her fingers. “Yeah, so?” Y/N asked. 
“Well, Shoe said that The Painted Lady was delivering food to the village in the middle of the night but you didn’t say anything about seeing her.”
“I didn’t see her,” Y/N said defensively. “I’m not sure why you’re interrogating me.” 
“I’m not interrogating, just wondering.”
Y/N watched as Sokka went back to eating his dinner like nothing happened. She narrowed her eyes at him. There was only one reason why he would be asking such weird questions...
“I just think it’s a little weird that you cut your hair in the middle of the night.”
A shot of anger coursed through Y/N’s body. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward. “Sokka, go ahead and ask it because I know you’re dying to.”
“Are you The Painted Lady?”
“No,” Y/N dropped her bowl next to the fire. “I’m going for a walk.” 
“I’m coming too!” Toph chirped.
Y/N turned back to look at the girl. “No, you’re not.”
“Too late, Not Painted Lady.” She was already pushing Y/N’s back, guiding them away from the campsite. 
---
“You know I’m really not The Painted Lady,” Y/N said. She began to balance herself on a pointy rock but thought better of it when she felt it begin to shift underneath her. She sent a dirty look in Toph’s direction.
“I know, but Katara is. And there’s no way she knew about an obscure Fire Nation spirit.”
“Um...”
“You guys weren’t necessarily quiet when you came back this morning.”
“Riiight.” Y/N bit her lip. “You’re not going to tell Sokka are you?”
“What Sokka doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Y/N sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Toph.”
“You’ll owe me of course.” Toph began to balance herself on the same rock, Y/N had just been on. 
Y/N laughed. “Owe you?”
“Yeah. Like, sometime, someday I’ll come to you and you owe me for keeping your secret.” Toph grinned. 
“I’m going to come to regret this, I think.”
“Probably.”
---
Y/N stayed behind that night. Sokka had been too suspicious of her and besides there wasn’t much she could do while Katara healed all of the sick villagers. The next night, however, Katara shook her awake after only a few hours of sleep. She held a finger to her lips and led her away from the campsite, far enough so they could talk without being heard. 
“I need your help tonight,” she whispered.
Y/N didn’t need to be told twice. “What are you thinking of doing?”
Katara’s eyes were wide. “Sokka was right. These villagers need to be able to help themselves but they can’t while that factory is still polluting their water.”
“Oh, you’re gonna–”
“Yeah, we’re going to blow it up.”
“I’ll get my sword.”
---
Y/N sure wasn’t expecting Aang to be so open to the idea of ecoterrorism considering his usual passive nature, but he was a big help with destroying the factory. They were lucky that he had woken up and caught them when they were leaving. 
The sun was shining when the three of them got back and it was already starting to warm up. Y/N had her black cloak thrown over her shoulder and she was laughing at something Aang had said. 
“–and when you unscrewed those screws with your sword and water came bursting out and flooded the whole floor.” Aang made an explosion noise and started giggling all over again. 
Katara shushed them both. “Quiet, we don’t want to wake Sokka up–oh hey… Sokka.”
Y/N tucked her cloak behind her back but the damage was already done. “We were just out on a morning swi–”
“Walk,” Katara corrected. Y/N bit her tongue. How had she almost said swim? Swim?! The river was literally polluted with probably dangerous levels of chemicals and she had almost said they went swimming in it. 
“I know you’re The Painted Lady, Y/N! I know you’ve been sneaking out at night and helping the villagers but I didn’t think that you would recruit my sister to help you!”
Y/N was taken aback at the anger that was radiating off of him. It was so different than just a few days earlier when they were sitting in Appa’s saddle joking with one another. As a matter of fact, Y/N wasn’t sure he’d ever shown this much outward fury to her when he hated her. 
“Sokka, leave her alone!” Katara stepped in. 
Y/N grabbed her arm and pulled her back. It was better for him to be mad at her than his sister. “No, it’s fine. He’s right. I shouldn’t have done it.”
Sokka was fuming. “You put this whole mission at risk while you were off being reckless. We’re leaving right now.”
Normally she might have said something to defend herself but instead Y/N just bumped their shoulders together as she walked past him. She packed her bags silently and rolled her sleeping bag before tossing it all into Appa’s saddle. 
Her feelings were hurt that Sokka would think that she would intentionally put them in harm’s way or mess up their mission. But something about his anger seemed misplaced; like there was more to it all. She could have expected that reaction if she had gotten caught, but she hadn’t been. As Y/N tried to rack her brain to figure out what made him tick she heard a buzzing out on the river. Even from where she was standing she could see the Fire Nation soldiers from the factory riding jet skis towards the village. 
“Oh no. No, no, no.” Y/N ran to the cliff overlooking the village and fell to her belly. Katara dropped down next to her and Sokka and Aang on her other side. 
Toph came up last. “What’s going on?”
Y/N watched in horror as the Fire Nation soldiers rode up alongside the dock and jumped off their jet skis. They began to approach the large group of villagers who had come outside to see what the noise was about. 
“What did you do?!” Sokka accused Y/N. She shook her head, unable to speak.
“We destroyed their factory,” Katara muttered.
“You what?!” Sokka yelled.
“It was your idea!” Katara yelled back at him.
“It doesn’t matter whose idea!” Y/N shot to her feet. “I’ve got to help them.”
“You can’t!” Sokka grabbed her wrist to keep her from running away. He was holding on a little too tightly and Y/N desperately wanted to yank out of his grip. She looked at his wild eyes and it finally clicked what the other emotion was. He was scared. Afraid that they were going to get hurt. Afraid that she was going to get hurt. “Those soldiers are out for blood. They want revenge.”
“Well, she’s not going alone!” Katara ripped Sokka’s hand off of Y/N. “We can’t turn our back on people who need us.”
---
Katara and Y/N ran side by side down the trail that led to the water. “I’ll go buy some time. You go put on The Painted Lady costume. If the soldiers think that this village is protected by her they’re less likely to come back.” 
“Got it,” Katara ran off in the direction she had stashed her cloak and hat. 
“I’m coming with you,” Sokka panted as he ran down the hill followed by Toph and Aang. 
“I thought you wanted to leave them,” she retorted. Y/N was done being nice if he wasn’t going to be.  
“I’m not going to leave you.” Sokka held her gaze. “Or Katara,” he added quickly. 
Y/N blinked. “Oh. Okay, come on.” She pushed one of the canoes into the water. “Aang, can you push us over to that dock there?” She pointed to a deserted dock on the back side of the village. The soldiers wouldn’t see them there. “And then go help Katara.”
“You got it!” He said brightly.
“What do I do?” Toph asked, clearly feeling a bit left out. 
“Go make scary spirit noises for Katara,” Sokka instructed.
“Ugh, okay.” Toph ran off among the rocks and cliffs. 
---
Aang used water bending to push their canoe. They each grabbed the wooden dock and hauled themselves up it, their boat floating under the dock and off with the current. No going back now. Sokka and Y/N snuck up to the back of the group of villagers and caught the tail end of whatever the soldier had been telling them. 
“–destroyed our factory! We’re going to cure the world of this wretched village.”
Y/N pushed her way to the front of the group. “No you’re not.” She held her hands in loose fists by her side. She was itching for her sword but she had left it at camp in her rush to get here. 
“And who’s going to stop me?” the large soldier taunted. 
Y/N didn’t spare a second thought. She leapt forward and punched him in the chest twice. The armor made her knuckles ache and sent reverberations up her arms. She ducked under a flaming punch from him and kicked his kneecap. He grunted and fell to his knee. He reached forward and before she could jump away, grabbed one of her ankles, pulling her feet out from under her. She shrieked and twisted midair, landing on her shoulder. 
That’s when a boomerang came from behind her, looping around to hit the soldier in the back of head, only to be caught again by it’s master. It only gave Sokka enough time to pull Y/N to her feet, because the soldier barely flinched. Agni, his head must be thick, Y/N thought. 
The soldier pulled back his fist ready to throw fire at them when it was quickly stifled by a stiff breeze that whipped Y/N’s hair around her face. 
He tried again, only for his fire to be blown out again. He growled and went to try a third time. He was interrupted by another soldier. “Uh, boss? What’s that?” He pointed in the direction that the wind came from. A large wall of fog was moving their way. In the distance, there was a rhythmic thumping that could only be a large boulder being lifted and dropped over and over again on the ground; and Y/N was sure she could hear Appa growling as well. 
The fog parted and Y/N could see Katara standing between two rolling, white clouds. Then, she was moving towards the dock at frightening speed, gliding over the water like she was flying. She landed gracefully and stood there staring at two soldiers in front of her. 
“Come on, let’s move the people further back.” Y/N patted Sokka’s shoulder and the two of them guided the villagers further back onto the platform to keep them out of harm’s way. 
Behind her, Y/N heard a yelp and two of the soldiers ran back to their jet skis and drove off without another thought. Only after they left did their swords hit the deck with a clang, evidently bent out of their hands by Aang and thrown to the sky.
“Stand your ground!” Their leader shouted. Katara bent the water around two more of their jet skis and lifted them high in the air. Y/N watched in complete awe as she threw them sideways into the face of the cliff where they exploded on impact. The rest of the soldiers sprinted back to their jet skis leaving their leader alone. 
“I’ll take care of this myself,” he growled. It was like it all happened in slow motion. He created a whip of fire and bent it at Katara. Y/N was sure it was going to hit her, she didn’t even move to block it. Y/N gripped Sokka’s arm and then Katara was gone. 
From below the deck, Aang had bent the air around Katara and lifted her high above them. Another gust of wind knocked the soldier into the muddy water. Katara floated on mist above him. 
“Leave this place and never come back,” The Painted Lady commanded. 
Y/N had never seen someone swim so fast. That was when she realized she was still holding her breath. She sighed in relief as Katara landed back on the platform. Aang crawled out from under the dock and Sokka and Y/N ran to join them. 
Behind her, the villagers were cheering but the sound was muted because Y/N didn’t care about that, all she cared about was that her and her friends had made it in one piece. 
A loud bang sounded from the shore and everyone went silent, their eyes searching for where the noise came from. 
“HELLLOOOO!” Someone shouted angrily from the bank. 
Sokka and Y/N shared a confused look before she burst out laughing. “Oh my spirits, it’s Toph. She can’t get over here.” Y/N grabbed Sokka’s hand and pulled him to one of the canoes to paddle over and pick up their friend.
---
A/N: So i just wanted to say that I’ve had the hair cutting scene planned from the beginning, I just was waiting for the right time to place it. her hair is cut now. and the fire nation is dropped. and now all i have to say is: IT’S IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. IT. IS. IN. THE. NEXT. CHAPTER
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Mc being super drunk and dragging Cecelia to dance with her. At first Cecelia is worried about MC but ends up having fun dancing with her and enjoys her flirty drunk personality. At the end of the night, MC sinks into Cecelia’s embrace as they slow dance
Written by: @evoedbd​
The Saloon was alive. The throbbing heartbeat of the sleepy little town, Wisp Willow. As the sun sulked, and the moon reigned, the Saloon roused. Even the most straight laced of folk came in from the unforgiving cold, lured in by the smell of fine food, of cigar smoke and leather.  Of a home away from the homes many had left for their new start out in the Devil’s Backbone. People sat in clusters around their tables, laughter and chatter floating on a tide of wistful piano notes or a swish of Ada’s skirts. Some danced to the jolly jigs, kicking their heels and trying not to entomb their spurs in the floorboards in their drunken staggering. The sound of boots across the floor only added a beat, an intimacy to the din. Din which flittered by those seated around a table in the corner, just to the left of the door. The table with the greatest vantage point.
An odd bunch they were, none looking like another. No rhyme or reason as to why they’d be seated together, let alone throwing coin with laughter and barbs of their own. Yet not one person in that Saloon, dead drunk or stone cold sober, would deny how intimate the table was. How comfortable they were with one another. They shared the type of security come from risking life and limb together, they did. The Wardens. Nobody knew just what they did or who they were, precisely, only that even the Sherrif made way for them. That made folks antsy round them. It was safer to avoid that type of crowd when possible.  Less complications that way.   Thus, nobody paid them heed, offering the perfect place to relax and unwind for the unusual crowd.
“Who knew all it takes is a few drinks to make the Moonlit Outlaw play like crap?” At the table, Nathan Cayde’s voice cut above the din, the lilt of his voice strutting through the sound of the upbeat piano.  
That earned a huff from Roslyn Arosi, the forementioned Moonlit Outlaw.
Nathan’s earnest glee radiated from him, almost as if he were a cool breeze in the harsh frontier desert.  With his lively, deep blue eyes glimmering like a mirage, lips peeled into a good-natured smile.   It never ceased to amaze her how he could smile like this, as if his actions weren’t a one-way ticket to disappointment on a bad hoss.  Least he wasn’t some yellow belly, the way he gigged up to the table of cheats, seers and demons.  Perhaps his ghastly status was enough to earn him some reprise, yet it wasn’t bout to save his dignity.  A fact proven by the cackle which came from the impish woman across the table the moment Nathan’s money collided with the wood.
He shook his head, drawing Roslyn’s attention. His wavy locks, one many might be long to cut to lessen such a beautiful man, proved aptly distracting to The Moonlit Outlaw. Lord’s mercy, was it wrong to want to run her fingers through those fine hairs?  To see if the beginnings of curls felt as smooth as they looked?  It wasn’t like she was fixing for his bed, nor pressed for fine company in said regard, but watching those locks bounce with every tilt of his head, or the broody fix of his chapped lips, roused a curiosity in her drunken state.  She watched the ends bounce round his jawline, contrasting the harsh line of his beard. A beard better suited to the Ace-High parts of town, a dab too neat for the rougher parts, but by the devil’s charm did it gruff up Nathan’s otherwise baby like face.   For all his chiseled jawline, the grizzled gauntness to his cheeks and heavier brows, his petite little nose added this aspect of utter adorability to the man, enough that the moonlit outlaw found herself fixing to bop it… or maybe poke it?  A little pinch to the adorable button?
She settled for a sloppy poke to his cheek, which earned a chorus of amused laughter.  Even Roslyn laughed, though, she wasn’t quite sure why.  It felt good to laugh with friends, to let go, even with Fiona sitting across the table like a predatory cat ready to devour the mice.  Roslyn swore she could almost see a tail swishing, though that might have also been the alcohol flooding her veins.
“Come on, Roslyn.  Show us some spark.” If Nathan’s voice had been a strut, Fiona’s goading words were a skip.  A teasing, coy swish of skirts and mysterious smile to match the Seer’s very nature.   Keen, golden brown eyes twinkled; their brightness only intensified by the smudged, dark eyeshadow. Fiona made no effort to hide her borderline sadistic mirth as she sized up the table, lording her knowledge over them with taps of her armored fingers against the backs of her cards and a subtle glint of teeth in an overly satisfied smirk, added to a subtle downturn of a pointed chin to her collar; a demure little jest between those at the table.  The almost childish image of braids peeping from beneath her hood added to long with the tufts of an unevenly cut fringe, didn’t detract from the spooky allure. Here she was, optimism and mischief, cheekiness and mysterious magnetism set upon an undercurrent of a mournful disconnect, all wrapped into a woman strutting a line between adorable and sexy with an element of spook that set many hearts fluttering.  Of course, butterflies did nothing to soften the downright wicked grin as Fiona continued tapping, a subtle reminder to all that the only other human at the table held the future in her palms.  Was savoring her victory, toying with everyone there like an adolescent cat having found a wayward old mouse.
“She’s saving it for her bed tonight.” Sascha purred, the wicked upturn of his lips leaving nothing to speculation when it came to the meaning of his words.  As always, his voice was almost liquid sex, a dose of lust accompanying his crude observation. Roslyn could almost feel heated breath across her ear, the seduction in the words translated directly to her soul, drawing out every memory of what could follow.  His little trick radiated through the room, had women shuffling awkwardly in their seats, men clearing their throats just a tad too loudly as they tugged at their neck ties.  Even the pianist stuttered, a key pressed a tad too roughly, slipped off.
A mood killer if ever there was one.  Roslyn flinched, hand tipping for the briefest moment.  Enough for Sascha to get a glance of her cards, she wagered.
Sascha Orosco looked far too pleased with himself as he slouched back in his chair, fixing the table with one of his feline grins.  An expression designed to be kissed away, hard and demanding.  All lust and unquenched heat. A devil’s snare if ever there was one.  Not that a jawline stronger than a king’s military didn’t help, nor those high cheekbones, sharp enough to cut yourself on.  He was the type of man momma told you not to run off with, the type who promised to leave you ruined by the time he burned through you… but being burned was too much a thrill to ignore.
“A chance to play to the gallery?  I’d love to” The witch retorted, words slurring together a little.  She had to pretend not to notice the ripple of concern travel throughout the group.  The guilt briefly illuminating Sascha’s magenta eyes. Darn it all, she hadn’t meant to find herself so deep in cups, hells bells, she’d even partaken of less than her usual amount.   She never should have listened to Sascha, have branched from her usual poisons.   She may be a woman of many, many vices, but her vices were all kept rightly in check.  If not by her own efforts, then by her partner’s.  When working alongside the Desert Rose of the Devil’s Backbone, one learned quickly to keep their wits about them.
Her lips twitched.  She was always aware of the regal vampire’s presence.  The untamed beauty. A queen of the night, much like the Queen’s in a few hands.  It was easy to imagine Cecelia’s face upon those cards, fangs and bloodied butterflies, sharpness nipping at the fingers touching her, or a blow to Nathan’s boots.  His grunt was enough for Roslyn’s magic to spark, to bring about the drunken images of dancing numbers, of beating hearts and digging spades.  Effortless.  A breath.  A laugh at the startled faces of her competitors, except Fiona.   The mystic was too busy smiling like a cat who’d just lapped up the last of the cream.
“Ahhh.”  The seer began, her voice amazingly bored.   A dexterous flick of her wrist had her cards spraying across the table, a pair of aces hiding amongst them, to land directly in front of a grumbling Nathan.
“Well… I fold.” Fiona’s casual surrender was delivered with a perfectly innocent shrug.  Roslyn’s eyes narrowed.  Even sunken to the ocean floor, she could read that something was… off?  It wasn’t her hood.  Perhaps pantihose?  No, somehow Fiona didn’t seem the sort to be reactive to that kind of thing.  Or rather, not reactive in this way… With her dress being so short, wouldn’t everyone know if she was taking command of her nethers?
“Say what now?” Nathan gaped; his eyes fixed on her cards for a split second before shifting back to her face.
“I thought you were using your gifts to win, not buy all my expensive drinks.” Roslyn’s barb was met with a chuckle from the table, along with another innocent gesture from Fiona… Roslyn wasn’t buying the act.  Not for a single second.  Not even with Fiona’s money.
“You’re an absolutely delightful drunk, Miss Arosi.  A worthy cause to lose a days payment to.  I fold.”  Sascha purred, his charm laid on thick, complete with a playful wink as he laid his cards down.   Roslyn couldn’t relax, couldn’t focus, couldn’t think.  Her eyes shifted between smirks, between sly grins exchanged around the table, all the way to Nathan’s grouchy huff.
“You’re not the ones who have to manhandle her and her little demon.  I fold.”
“Hold on now!” Roslyn began, hand sliding across the table as she tried to right herself, intent on giving the cowboy a piece of her mind.  It failed of course, given the room begun to swim, her chair tilted, until she surrendered to gravity and allowed herself to fall, full bodied onto the table.
“I’m the one roostered one, not Enzo.”
“If I don’t copper my bets, this game will last hours… besides, I foresee you’re going to be busy.” Fiona continued to tease, lifting a hand to dramatically touch the space between her eyes.  She acted up the gig, Cheshire smile fixated so firmly in place Roslyn doubted when a herd of mustangs could drag it down.  Sascha straightened before she could retort, his eyes shifting to the door, brightening with rich amusement and a deep seeded satisfaction, his need for lust sated for the moment.
“I foresee five foot ten.  A rather fetching jawline.  A smile sharper than moonlight on a starless night-”
“Cecelia!” Roslyn realized out loud, jerking up in her chair.  She didn’t even hear Sascha, nor the table.  There was a serenity to the presence approaching her, like the moment one went underwater in a cool, refreshing lake… followed by the hyperawareness of every droplet of water running across one’s skin when they surfaced; the jitters assaulting her in full swing.  Those pesky nerves marched down her arms, lifting the hairs in places many might say hairs had no place rising.  The moment before lightning sizzled in her veins, even as the breath of calm approached her from behind.
Instinctively, Roslyn turned to that presence, letting her gaze fall upon the Desert Rose.
“I didn’t even get to the marble bust-”
“Have some respect for the woman. She’s your boss!”  Nathan’s scolding served as a timely interruption for Sascha’s playful leering.  The Demon’s brows ceased wiggling, flicking for a breath before he commented offhandedly.
“I forgot I was drinking with a prude apparition.”
“I’ll give you an apparition.” Nathan grumbled, reaching for his bottle.  Bottle?  That was a good idea! Her mouth was quite dry after all, her head empty. Where was Roslyn’s drink again? Blindly, she groped around the table for it, only to find the welcoming rasp of well-loved wood.
“Judging by the gleam in your eye, Sascha, Roslyn’s providing quite a soaked feast.” Fiona’s words drew Roslyn’s attention.   Damn it, the Seer’s golden eyes had too knowing a glint to them, a cat who’d gotten the cream, complete with a little milk moustache.  Sascha wasn’t much better.  The Incubas was practically preening as he leaned back in his chair, lazy, Cheshire smirk forming across her unfairly attractive lips.
“Half the patrons are.  The Desert rose makes quite an entrance.”
That she did.  Even across the room, Cecelia cut an intimidating figure.  A blade through the night, straight to Roslyn’s gut.  Goddess, Mother of Night, was Cecelia able to make an entrance.  Demons strutted, Fiona kind of skipped, Nathan had this floatiness to him.  But Cecelia… Cecelia redefined reality.  The world existed only to be a backdrop to the Supernatural perfection of every step, smoother than any criminal could hope to be, the perfect predatory stalk reimagined into casual yet purposeful strides… So many conflictions that SHOULDN’T work, but Lord did they work for Cecelia Visconti.
Roslyn was stuck watching, breath catching at each stride, at the flex of those impossibly strong legs clad in form fitting charcoal black trousers.  The casual confidence in those strides, the power of those legs… Roslyn had ridden horses with less.  The smallest part of sense in her brain warned her to look away, her sluggish body thought that meant down.  Straight to the vine engravings across Cecelia’s boots, gold gleaming across chocolate straps, which in turn bound midnight leather… it was a miracle that Roslyn did not collapse to her knees, that she could fight the urge to press her lips to those vines in devotion.  Why else did such a perfect being exist if not to be worshipped?
“They damned well better be respectful about their thirsts.  Cecelia could rightfully have their heads.” Nathan’s continued griping bought Roslyn a moment of clarity.  The entire table could hear the underlying, unspoken threat to Nathan’s statement.  That if Cecelia did not claim the heads, that Roslyn might have a collection of balls to kick down the streets.  An image which had said Witch snorting before taking another healthy swig of her booze.
“Doubtful she’ll notice when Roslyn’s half seas over. She’ll soak up all of Cece’s attention.” The way Fiona practically purred the last word left very little to the imagination.
“She does seem to have partaken of too much alcohol.” The unmistakable voice of Cecelia Visconti echoed in Roslyn’s ears, serenading her mind in an untouched vault of time for sober her to process later on.  This was accompanied by a grounding touch to her far shoulder, the tips of Cecelia’s claws prickling through Roslyn’s cottons.  The Witch surrendered to baser instincts, shuddering with delight as she leaned back into the Vampire, head resting against the Immortal’s lace covered shoulder, and downright shamelessly admired Cecelia’s visage.
Cecelia was a beauty unlike any Roslyn had seen.  The Vampire was every inch as regal as the Princesses from the worn fairytales tucked away in Roslyn’s rucksack.  She was also the mysterious seductive huntress from the penny dreadfuls hiding beneath Roslyn’s pillows.    Her lips were fine, bathed in midnight red which stood starkly from skin the delicate shades of fallen snow.  Her pale complexion blended the cut of her jaw into the graceful heights of her cheekbones.  The faintest dappling of blush concealed that supernatural perfection, blending Cecelia with the land of the mortal living.  Even across the room, the deep greens and greys of her garb seemed unable to dull the glorious mane of chestnut, the luxurious hair hanging down below her shoulders… all lost to the devil’s snare of winter greys.  Gentle eyes made to appear angular by an overly generous portion of eyeliner and smokey red eyeshadow.
“Or perhaps of a more potent variety.  Tricks of an Incubas, perhaps?” Cecelia’s comment was accompanied by an accusatory brow arched in Sascha’s direction.  Despite the inconvenience, Cecelia somehow seemed amused, fit to saw the Incubus. A mental game where she was steadily tightening a noose around the Incubus’ throat as she smiled.  An undisguised trap she practically dared Sascha to sacrifice himself to, for what she might do if he didn’t simply acknowledge the corn.  It seemed Sascha was not willing to take the risk, given his simple response.
“I would be amiss not to slake a lady’s thirst.”
“Slake?” Nathan demanded, laughter dancing beneath his tones.
“More like you aimed to drown her.  She’s as full as a tick!”
At the confessions, at her victory, Cecelia seemed to preen.  A quiet, subtle shift to how she held her head.  She’d had her blood, albeit metaphoric, and was sated for the moment.  The quiet tinge of smugness remained as she gathered her chair, and proceeded to ignore how the wood screeched as she dragged it across the floorboards.  Even as she gathered her own chair, she never jostled her shoulder, never disrupted Roslyn’s drunken obsession.  If anything, the Vampire seemed to encourage it, given the playful flicker of a wink she offered Roslyn once she finally managed to claim her seat.
It was unfair how such a simple expression could have Roslyn’s cheeks flushing with more than the warmth of her booze.  How Cecelia’s quiet intensity could shake the Witch’s very foundations, until she had to look down like a blushing maiden.  Of course, that meant she was face to bust with Cecelia.  Hells Bells, she just wanted a fair shake at seeming like she had a control on her libido.
But how was it a fair shake when said bust was concealed only by see intricately decorated, rose vined lace which left the sharpness of her collarbones exposed like the worst kept, sexiest secret this side of the Devil’s Backbone?  Roslyn’s cheeks flushed at the realization that it was not merely the lace panels of her grey button up, but Cecelia’s lacy undergarments that added to the teasing vision.  It was only running into the hard edge of grey across the swell of Cecelia’s forementioned bust that broke Roslyn out of her thoughts, and mercifully tore her from the teasing of the black corset defining Cecelia’s boddice.
“Not to worry, miss Visconti, I’ve left a particular thirst for your enjoyment.” The Incubus commented, his pointed gaze fixed out on Roslyn and her current occupation.  The entire table shuffled, gazes anywhere but where Roslyn’s was.    That didn’t make sense to the drunken Witch.  Cecelia was stunning, why ignore that?  It wasn’t like Cecelia was hid- oh… Leering wasn’t becoming.  But it was Cecelia!  Innocently, Roslyn’s gaze rose, meeting Cecelia’s.  Amusement twinkled there, the gleam of waves in oceans far deeper than anybody could comprehend.  Whatever darkness swum in those depths were known to the depths alone, much like Cecelia’s thoughts.   Much like her pains.  It may have been the booze talking, or the heat of Cecelia’s gaze, but Roslyn was willing to drown in those depths if only to take a droplet of the pain from Cecelia’s lonesome.
“It seems this Witchling is drawn to things both deadly and beautiful.” Sascha’s words fell un unhearing ears.
“Cecelia, lovely, dance with me!” Roslyn was urging, sacrificing her place of comfort to spring to her feet.  She lurched, held only by Cecelia’s gentle arm around her waist.  The Witch fell, sprawling into Cecelia’s arms with nothing more than an excited giggle.  The vampire’s chest heaved with suppressed laughter, even as those talons came to brush some of Roslyn’s hair away from a clammy forehead.  There was such a tenderness to Cecelia’s innocent gesture, something that stole the breath from Roslyn’s chest even as Cecelia’s lower voice came.
“Oh Witchling, I doubt your feet would hold you to these tunes.”
“Don’t worry, Cece,” Fiona began, that mischievous grin coming back tenfold.
“I foresee the music is about to change.”
For a brief moment, Roslyn and Cecelia stared at the seer, both processing her words.  The Saloon had fallen quieter, the makeshift dancefloor abandoned as the melancholy notes of the piano rung.   It was as if the patrons dared not speak over the beauty, the story each note wove through their ears.
“I suspect this is more foreplaned than foreseen.” The note of skepticism within Cecelia’s voice had the table smiling.  Even the lord of disapproval himself seemed to find something endearing about the antics.  A series of shared glances and grins launched a silent debate, who would take the fall and who would claim credit.  A blink, a shuffle of the cards, a twitch of a brow.  The quirk of lips, then a glance towards Kellen. Finally, it was the brave little Seer who spoke up.
“I see the jig is up.  Would you deny us our entertainment, Cece?” Fiona wheedled, her eyes large and brimming with their innocence, a display of her deceptive talents.  Nathan didn’t even try to put on a puppy face, instead tipping his head in an effort to hide behind his hair.  Sasha’s attempt at a convincing face looked more suited to a brothel.  Then, there was Kellen.
Concern on his face was… it didn’t belong.  The demon’s exotic face was practically carved to express disapproval.  From his low set brow resting over the most worn, blazing eyes of literal hellfire, he gauntness to his cheeks which led into the sharp angle of his jaw.  Hells Bells, even his lips were the damn poutiest Roslyn had ever laid eyes on.  His face was young enough to be brotherly, yet the transition from dark black to frosty white along each tussle of hair gave the salt and pepper look of a father.  Double doses of disapproval and disappointment, nuff to drag one’s stomach out their pucker and their heart into their gut.  Heck, if his regality didn’t drown you, his dapper stylings were able to remind everyone that he was better.  That he was far further refined than any mortal clutching at the nature of sophistication he had in the toes of his boot, nevermind his whole visage.
Why was he concerned now, of all times, for her?  They clashed, so violently.  He was due process, whereas she was chaos.  She was the one who’d swept into town off of theft from murderers, and in turn pocketed their finest Ranger as her partner in, well, law.  Criminally amazing law.  Right, so she and Visconti also chaffed each other at first, yet how they’d come together as a team was leaving the other Wardens in the dust.  They were better, she’d admit that while sloshed.  They got things done, they helped PEOPLE as people instead of objectives.  Instead of seeing that, Kellan seemed more disturbed that his Ranger was straying from the rigidness he’d shackled her in.  Shackled to save… Mother night, it was fucked up.  What he’d sacrificed and endured as punishment for revering life.
Cecelia. That was their common ground.  Kellan might have been the man to have raised Cecelia, but he was not the one to draw her from her shell.  He wasn’t what Roslyn was to the vampire.  His presence was order, was the reminder of Cecelia’s indirect imprisonment.  Roslyn was chaos.  The freedom. Kellan was the ground, where Roslyn was the sky.  Cecelia needed both, but for so long she’d been kept on the ground due to the hurricanes in her life.  Roslyn refused to lose Cecelia to those hurricanes, just as she refused to accept that Cecelia should never use her wings.  Yet, if she were Kellan, she doubted she could let go any easier than he. Kellan was Cecelia’s childhood, when she needed him.  Roslyn was Cecelia’s true stride into adulthood, her testing of the shackles the Ward had groomed her to praise.   Of all the nights, this was the one where Roslyn was the direction everyone needed Cecelia to step.  The fact she lingered… this was way too heavy for her drunken mind to wrangle.
Cecelia’s loud sigh signaled her surrender.
“I suppose a dance in an innocent enough request.”
The table broke into cheers, all save Kellan taking up the encouraging chant.
“Dance.  Dance, dance, dance.”
Kellan’s lips merely twitched into an approving line, a sip of his drink concealing the encouraging nod he sent Roslyn’s way.  Somehow, her drunken mind latched onto the sense of victory, the acceptable and belonging of a family she’d never truly had.  It was enough to make her smile, to lean closer to the cool body she’d been warming.  Cecelia, for her credit, remained composed.  Quite a feat, given she had a lap full of drunken Witch and a table chanting for her to make a public spectacle of herself right in front of the man who’d raised her.  How she was so composed, Roslyn had no idea, only that this was not the night she’d envisioned.  She needed to see that youth that immortality had preserved in Cecelia for so long.  Needed to see those cheeks flush and that stoic veneer crack.
“Come on, lovely, I know several dances that don’t need any music.” The Witch purred, squirming, wiggling her rump deeper into the cave of Cecelia’s body until she could safely turn.  Still, Cecelia barely seemed phased, watched with those gorgeous eyes.  What Roslyn wouldn’t do to see the disguise fall way.  To see the blood moon of the Visconti vampire.  If even for a blink.  With two fingers, pointer and middle, Roslyn stroked from the hinge of the jaw, a teasing touch that whispered across chilled flesh and fell from Cecelia’s pointed chin.  As if she might wipe away the illusion, to see those terrifying depths.  Was it even a case of willingness to drown anymore?  Or had it become desire?
“You seem bereft of what little propriety you usually possess, little Witchling.” Cecelia’s response was delivered quietly, the tone relaxed, almost indifferent, save for the smallest catches.  What such a tone did not possess was what urged Roslyn to push harder.  Dared her, even.  Then, there was Cecelia’s hand, lifted to catch hers.  The Vampire prevented Roslyn’s second pass at a touch, yet those talons caught the Vampire’s earlobe, tugging it lightly even as she guided Roslyn’s hand down.  All Roslyn could do was stare, lose herself in the depths of Cecelia’s eyes once more.  Hunting.  This was a hunt, the thrill running down Roslyn’s spine.  Cecelia, the perfect prey, thus far… but how could a mere mortal hunt immorality? Unless… said immortal was playing the game.
That drew the most unholy of smirks to Roslyn’s face, even as she worked to throw one of her legs over Cecelia’s.  Her legs hung, toes swinging, weight supported by nothing save the vampire.  Flying and grounded.  Earth and sky.  Roslyn was the prey, with a hunter gracious enough to allow her dignity.  All it would take is one movement, one moment where Cecelia lost herself or lost her patience, and Roslyn would bear the cost.  She was so close to the fire, playing with an inferno.  She had Cecelia between her thighs, more power than the most expensive stallion from any estate in the east.  If Cecelia bucked…  The Witch wanted that. She wanted Cecelia to buck, wanted the Vampire to lose her patience, to cling with more than the gentle hands against the curve of her waist.  
“You could bereft me of far more, darling.” She purred, letting the huskiness of alcohol sink her voice into the sinful satiny tones.  In a motion as smooth as silk, for a drunk at least, Roslyn slunk her arms around Cecelia’s neck, fingers weaving into the vampire’s glorious locks even as she rocked herself closer, leaving no space between herself and Cecelia.  She had to cling with her thighs, squeeze the Vampire so she could lift herself out of the chair, to look down at her huntress.   The Witch could only swallow, licking her lips before leaning close enough that her next words were only for the Vampire’s delicate ears.
“Then…” The Witch let her breath brush the shell of Cecelia’s ear, the tease of the corner of her mouth adding in as she let her words become heated.  The filthiest things, every dark desire, her deepest secrets painted in the most scandalous of tones she could muster.  Requests, nay, demands that would have demons blushing.  That HAD demons blushing.
“HAH!” Fiona laughed in absolute awe; eyes blown wide.  Roslyn’s met hers, the Witch giving that unholy smirk to the Seer for a split second before even Fiona found herself overwhelmed on Cecelia’s behalf.
“Oh hells… please stop.” Nathan groaned desperately, face flushed, eyes haunted.  He had to avert his gaze when Roslyn’s teeth closed around Cecelia’s ear.
“Oh, please do continue. This is delightful… is she truly that flexible?” Sascha barked with glee, a glimmer of a demonic tongue brushing across his lower lip.   The Incubus fed, eyes seeming to glow as he took in such a potent meal before him, only encouraged by the appearance of little horns peeking from beneath the table.
“According to the Lady’s Arms patrons? My mistress is the most flexible human they’ll ever meet!” Enzo declared almost proudly, earning a few tensed chuckles at the implications of such a statement.  Roslyn was far too drunk to care.  Lost in alcohol and power, in the game she so desperately needed to win, but so desperately wished to lose.  Was there anything but victory from such a game?  Something so pure could never be a loss, not for her, not for how the flames were licking up her spine. She could feel it, Cecelia’s composure cracking.  It came in the pricks of talons.  In the occasional flex between her thighs, something she answered with another dirty line expressing her appreciation.  How close could she dance to this fire before it consumed her?  It seemed she was never going to find out given the look of horror on Kellan’s face as he finally, FINALLY, spoke up.  Given his discomfort, she couldn’t help but silently query if his voice was the only thing rising.
“Cecelia! For the seven layers of hells and every bell that might ring, shut Arosi up! Those of us with fine hearing don’t wish to hear such-”
“I’m sure I can find something to occu-”
Cecelia never let Roslyn finish. Cecelia’s hand came to her jaw, cradling it sweetly even as the pad of her thumb fell tenderly across the Witch’s lips.  All it took was a single talon, pressed ever so tenderly to Roslyn’s lips for the Witch to still, to surrender. The moment Roslyn did, Cecelia gently slid her thumb away, caressing the line of Roslyn’s lip then the swell of her cheek, a gesture which stilled Roslyn’s heart.
“Quiet now, Witchling. I’ll give you your desired dance if you cease haunting our ghost. Your brazen attempts to make me blush are for naught.” The Vampire urged, corners of her lips twitching, teasing the smile Roslyn was so devoted to drawing out.  The table, the Saloon, the world.  Everything in existence needed to see the radiance.   Such a small expression, something so simple and true, such beauty it could chase the darkness of evil from the comforting shadows of night.
“Give me an hour.” The Witch said, giving a sloppy waggle of her brows.  That did it.  Cecelia cracked, lips quirking up into the fondest smirk Roslyn had ever laid eyes on.
“You would be asleep within ten ticks, much less an hour.” Cecelia’s comment was delivered on a smile.  Forever gentle hands gathered beneath the Witch’s thighs, holding them steady before Cecelia merely stood up, baring the weight as if it were that of a feather instead of an entire being.  For a second, Roslyn simply indulged, smiling peacefully as she leaned her forehead into Cecelia’s collar.  She was warmer, warmed by her contact with Roslyn, yet still refreshingly cool, enough that Roslyn could feel her body drooping into the relaxation, a realm of half consciousness and safety.  Then Cecelia wasn’t holding her.  Falling.  She yelped, clawing at Cecelia.
“Careful!” The Vampire was equally as quick.  One hand caught beneath her thigh, encouraging the leg around her waist even as the vamp’s other arm wrapped around her torso.  Again, she was weightless, held aloft by Cecelia’s strength.  Again, she was entangled with the Vampire, wrapped around her, poised to climb her like a tree if only she had the courage and lack of… Oh no. She absolutely had the lack of propriety down.  Drunken misbehaviour.  The brattiness, in public, complete with the clinging.  The wicked gleam in Cecelia’s eye as she led Roslyn to the makeshift dancefloor… The Witch’s cheeks flushed, leading her to curse her complexion.  There was no way anybody was going to miss her blushing, nor her previous antics. Hells, she was never going to live this down, not if the smirk upon Cecelia’s face was any indication.
“I won’t dance if it proves a danger to you.” The warning was given light heartedly, a soft, intimate whisper as Cecelia drew Roslyn in close.  Already, it was apparent the Witch barely had her feet, yet as always Cecelia was there to ground her.  To be the very ground she stood upon.  Without a blink, Cecelia had Roslyn standing on her feet, had her held impossibly close.
“How else are we meant to celebrate the date you were born?”
The innocent question punched the air from Cecelia’s immortal lungs.  Mother night, it tore her back hundreds of years.  Back to when the day held meaning.  To memories of a time before Kellan.  Before the Ward. Where the ballrooms were alive, where she… The answer was so close, yet so far.  So very, very far from Cecelia’s grasp.   All she could do was sigh, was close her eyes and lean her cool forehead to Roslyn’s clammy one with a solitary observation.
“You know.”
“Of course I know. It’s important to know that about your family!” Roslyn’s earnest statement lured Cecelia’s eyes open, the impact of the unspoken acknowledgement a gift unlike any she’d received in her long life.   She smiled, not one of her above mortality, tragic smiles, but a true smile, complete with a glimmer of fang. It was a smile which shook Roslyn to the core.  Upon Cecelia’s feet, Roslyn finally stood at even height, their faces aligned.  It was effortless, to lose herself in the beauty of Cecelia’s face so close to her own.  To feel how their breath mingled in the tiniest of spaces between their lips.  With a flush unattributed to alcohol, the Witch babbled on.
“It took a lot of magic though. And Kellan.” The conclusion of Roslyn’s explanation only proved her dedication.  For Roslyn to willingly have sought out Kellan, to have chosen to confide in him, even for Cecelia… It went beyond Roslyn’s appreciation for him as someone in Cecelia’s life, or as her boss.
“It is alarming is that you, of all of us, got him to the table.” She noted.  An absolutely monumental understatement.  Their conflict went beyond Kellan’s hazing a tenderfoot approach to Roslyn as a member of the team. Truth be told, Cecelia had half expected Roslyn to give Kellan a bad plum in leu of an apple when Kellan declared the trials.   Their tensions even went further than Roslyn thinking Kellan a ten-cent man, and he finding the Witch to be a bag of nails.  It was her.  Roslyn’s issues had only grown worse once she knew precisely what Kellan’s role had been in Cecelia’s upbringing.
Just as his hostility towards Roslyn had only increased once he recognised her connection to Cecelia. The temptation she could become, had become.  What she was only proved to be the icing on one very hostile cake.  The fact that they were beginning to bury the hatchet, instead of simply co-exist was just another priceless gift.
“I wanted you to have fun, and instead lost myself in my cup trying to flavour my blood before you even arrived. I was going to let you bite me so we could watch the sunrise. Sascha suggested some different drinks… I ruined your surprise! I’m going to be grouchier than a bear with a sore head come morning.” Roslyn deflated, squeezing her hand just that little tighter on Cecelia’s bicep.
“Then it seems we will both be hiding from the sun.” Cecelia sighed, unable to conceal her smile as she leaned back.  The tickle of Roslyn’s hair against her nose was the smallest of prices to pay to deliver the gentlest kiss to the Witch’s forehead.  A gesture which had Roslyn smiling too, creeping from the melancholy that had been nipping at her heels.
“You’ll be a…” Cecelia trailed off, mischief brewing in her stormy eyes. As she continued in a sing song voice.
“What is it you called me?  An adorable, grumpy little muffin?”
“You were all pouty! an’ to think, here I was tryin’ ta be nice to ya.” The Witch laughed, shaking her head a little at the gall Cecelia had to throw her own words back at her. That was a low blow.  Totally uncalled for… adorable too.  A little kitten mewling.
“I sincerely appreciate the sentiment, little delinquent.“ Cecelia crooned in return.  Roslyn shrugged, unable to focus on anything but the gentle curve of Cecelia’s lips.  The hint of fangs behind the midnight red curtain.  Mindlessly, Roslyn tipped her head forwards, playfully nuzzling the Vampire’s jaw before her ear once more settled over Cecelia’s shoulder, forehead nestled into the safety of Cecelia’s neck.  There, tucked away in the scoop of Cecelia’s body, swaying in slow circles to the sweetest notes of a steady piano, Roslyn yawned, her smile shifted into contentment. Cecelia sighed too, tilting her head so that she could rest her cheek to Roslyn’s temple.  Together, they swayed, enraptured by one another, lost on the tide of the piano’s melody.  Cecelia, drowning in the orchestra of Roslyn’s heartbeat.  Of her soul.  All of which fell secondary to the sweetest whisper, like the touch of wind across the desert on a still night.
"Happy Birthday, Lady Cecelia Visconti.”
“Thank you.”
Cecelia’s response was honest.  Sincere.  Spoken from the heart.  Even drunk, Roslyn could see it in her eyes.  How gentle they were, soft, with a droopiness to them.  For once, it was not Cecelia trying to appear harsher, nor watching for danger.  There it was. The chasm in the veneer Roslyn had so desperately desired, mere millimetres from her face.  Overwhelming, like how the Sun’s light drowned the moon out every day, but still the moon shone, as did every star. Only, they were within Cecelia’s eyes.  Mother Night, they were in Cecelia’s eyes.  Roslyn could only smile, even with her cheek rested to Cecelia’s lace covered shoulder, giggling at the tickle of Cecelia’s hair in conflict with the scratchiness of the lace.
“So,” Roslyn begun, her smile only growing as she saw Cecelia tilt her chin that little bit closer, as if trying to connect their gazes once more.
“are you ready to tell me how old you really are?”
Cecelia cracked.  Her warm, rich laughter vibrated in her chest, disrupting Roslyn’s resting place.  When faced with such a thing, what else could be done but to giggle along, to bathe in a moment where the weight of the world was not upon their shoulders?  Where they could be young, drunk and ditzy without it leading to the cost of lives.  Where the Ward had no power to punish Cecelia, or leverage her life against Kellan.  Where, they could just be.  Roslyn laughed too, turning her head so that she could playfully try to sneak a kiss through the lace over Cecelia’s collar.  Whether it was the pressure, the heat of her mouth or the wet of her kiss, Cecelia seemed to feel something.  Her chest swelled, and for one glistening moment, they were completely still.  A snapshot in time.
“Oh my darling Witch, you still have not learned it is rude to query a woman’s age.”
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saibh29 · 4 years
Text
The Truth in the Past  (Part 1)
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Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Warnings: Swearing, Implied NSFW ( pretty vague), Messed up relationships
AN: New series starting now! I’ve found a bit of inspiration for Jay baby Halstead (oh I’ve also finally finished Minor Head Trauma, so after I edit should be posted tomorrow)
You’ve covered for your sister all your life to such an extent you don’t know anymore where she ends and you begin, or how to even stop a relationship that’s now more toxic than good. 
******
Jay casually folded his arms back behind his head, propping himself up slightly in the bed. The thin sheet was pulled up just above his hips covering the fact that he was still very naked underneath. His blue eyes were focused on the scantily clad figure of the young woman currently pulling your smart black skirt into place over legs you’d only just put stockings back onto.
“So...” he started “…you ever think you’re gonna manage a full night?”
Your sharp y/e/c eyes glanced up at him from behind loose dark bangs. “Don’t push Jay,” you muttered finishing your skirt by pulling the zip at the side up to the top of the waistband.
“Push” he repeated softly “you think I’m pushing when after 6 months of doing this most nights you still insist in running off into the dark?”
Another glare “yeah I think your pushing” you snapped twisting to look round the room “Where is my bloody bra?” you hissed, your English accent normally soft and fairly unnoticeable got much thicker when you were angry.
Jay smirked and leaning over picked something up off the bedside table beside him holding up the offending purple lace article of clothing on one finger for you to see.
You snatched it off him silently before quickly clipping it back on then grabbing your blouse from the bottom of the bed you started to button it, pausing only to curse once more when you noticed that Jay hadn’t been too careful when ripping it off you, meaning you were missing more than a few buttons.
“Dammit Jay, this is the third one you’ve ruined. My clothes aren’t cheap”
“Send me a bill”  
You ignored that, instead pulling off the ruined shirt and instead grabbing his navy flannel, you quickly buttoned it up and tucked the baggy ends into you skirt, it didn’t look great, but you weren’t out to make any fashion statements right now.
You then looked over at Jay; he was silent, waiting for you to answer his previous question no doubt. Sighing you raked a hand through your messy shoulder length hair.
“You know full well I can’t stay” you grabbed the pair of black stilettos and slipped your feet back into them.
Jay sat up as you stared down at him from the foot of the bed. Your hair was mussed from your previous activities, your lips were still slightly swollen and free of the normal gloss you wore, you had faint red marks on your jaw and neck from his stubble and even though he’d just had you he still wanted to rip that shirt straight back off you and pull you down beside him.
“I know you believe that you have to leave. Again.”
You bent down and leant your hands on the mattress so your face was level with his, reaching forward to press your lips to his once more.
“I’ll see you” you pushed yourself up once more and turned for the door to his bedroom. He could see the tension in your shoulders and even though he knew he shouldn’t do it, he found himself speaking again anyhow
“Y/N?”
You stopped but didn’t turn back around to face him, just stood with your hand on the handle of the door. “What?”
He could barely hear your voice, but somehow he was certain he’d heard the small stutter in your word. “Don’t leave”
This time you did turn around, your eyes meeting his and holding. He could see the indecision on your face, the overwhelming need to both run and stay.
“Come back to bed”
Eventually he saw the answer he didn’t want to on your face. Running had won and without another word your turned and fled. He heard the front door of his apartment open and close and then you were gone. Leaving nothing but the still slight warmth of your body on his sheets and the smell of your shampoo on his pillows.  
 ******
You sat breathing deeply in the front seat of your car. You could still feel Jay’s hands on your skin; hear the whimpers he’d pulled from your throat.
It was getting harder and harder to leave him.
Which presented problems that you’d really rather not face at the moment. The first time it had happened, you’d told yourself that it would never happen again. You couldn’t make the mistake of allowing yourself to fall for the tall dashing detective. Somehow though no matter how much you told yourself it would never happen again, it always did, until now 6 months on you were in much deeper than you wanted to admit even to yourself.
The passenger side door of your car opened and an almost identical version of yourself slumped down into the seat.
You turned to stare at your sister Y/S/N. The only difference physically between the two of you was the length of your hair where yours was shoulder length with heavy bangs Y/S/N was long and wavy.
“Your late Y/S/N” you said hitting the ignition of the car.
Y/S/N smiled and leaning over tugged on the neckline of your way too big shirt, it obviously didn’t belong to you.
“And you’ve been doing something naughty” she teased. “You bedded the detective again huh?”
You smacked your sister’s hand away with a scowl. “You still have a feather in your hair” was your only response.
Y/S/N just smirked as she flicked the mirror down and picked the feather out of her hair. Closing the compact without checking any other part of her reflection.
“Still haven’t fessed up about me either, have you?”
You sighed and wrenched the car around a tight corner. “We’re not that close”
“You’ve been there almost every night this week Y/N. Trust me you’re close”
Your mouth tightened as you gripped hard to the steering wheel.
“Would it really be so bad? to just admit you like him and let yourself go for once?”
“What like you do?” you snapped. The words coming out before you could check them. You instantly felt guilty though as y/s/n fell silent. She sighed heavily “I’m sorry Y/S/N there was no reason for that”
“You know, what I do isn’t that bad Y/N” she said softly “I know I screwed up before, and I know you covered my arse, but do I really still embarrass you so much you have to ruin your life over me?”
You shook your head. It wasn’t just your sister anymore. She wasn’t the reason you were hiding from Jay. You could at least admit that to yourself.
“You don’t embarrass me Y/S/N”
She snorted this time, as the car pulled to a stop outside the apartment the two of you shared. “Sure I do. Its why I’ve never met a single one of the people you work with, why I don’t meet your friends and why most of the people in your life don’t even know you have a twin”
You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come out. Your sister hadn’t ever met anyone you worked with or many of your friends and to deny that was unfair to her. At first it had been because you were embarrassed about what your sister was, about what you yourself had been, now though you weren’t so sure what it was that kept you silent.
“I’m sorry Y/S/N”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Don’t be”
You stayed sat in the car as you watched your sister walk up to the front door of your apartment building and disappear inside.
There was no denying that your life was getting far too complicated for its own good. One lie led straight to another and soon enough everything was going to tumble down on you. Maybe your sister was right, you should take a chance and tell Jay the truth.
****
@lifesaclimb-buttheviewisgreat​  @lclb13 @moli1497​   @clementines-x​ @the-chosen-one-time-lord​​ @no-other-names-availible-blog​ @angelaiswriting​ @selldraug​ @angryares​ @thenovarose​ @georgiagrl1990​ @mindofthescattered​  @dontstopxx​ @iamabeautifulperson18​ @madelinecraig03​ @ka-x-in​ @mesmericbell​  @weirdpotato-14​ @putinontheritzz​ @soulslaststand​ @fuckthatfeeling​  @ember1201​ @morganlb23​ @tomhopperarms​  @fakingintrest​ @artprincessbree​  @dreamer-lover-laughter​ @artprincessbree​ @rime-warrior​​ @captainvaneswife​ @kapolisradomthoughts​ @thingsandstuffienjoy​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @aya-fay​  @itsbubbaog​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @emmykinzs​ @thatbadassunicorn​ @sassywingednightmare​ @weirdnewbie​ @goyawriter​ @shipperfangirling​ @nathaliabakes​ @stillreadingfantasy @waywardblueshun
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artificialqueens · 4 years
Text
turn my touches into neon light (Vanessa x Monique) - Ortega
a/n: i quite simply have no excuse for this, quarantine is clearly making mincemeat of my head and i just don’t give a shit about what i submit anymore, apparently? this is part of the n19f verse and is set in between chapters 16 and 17 but it can be read standalone, there’s nothing really essential to the plot here. the title’s from Bitches (Remix) by Tove Lo bc it was the catalyst to my bisexual awakening xo. anyway if u liked this pls let me know bc this genre is not my strong suit and i would love a crumb of Believing In Myself. (smut. it’s smut.)
summary: Vanessa’s still reeling from Brooke breaking things off with her and she’s not over her yet. Monique is willing to be everything she needs in the meantime.
***
The fairy lights strung up in Monique’s room are soft and warm, her heavy red curtains drawn and shutting all the light out, not as if there’s much light to be let in in the first place. The small black alarm clock on her wooden IKEA bedside table reads 21.24, and Vanessa only arrived a few moments ago from the library after getting a message from Monique saying she’d just bought some good wine that was on offer and she had nobody to drink it with. Vanessa suspects this is a white lie- even though Cracker is out on a date with that Kameron girl she’s seeing and Monet is obviously round at Nina’s (and Brooke’s, she reminds herself with a stab to her heart), Bob’s still in and she could quite easily have shared the wine with her. But then again, Vanessa thinks, biting back a smile, Monique doesn’t have the same relationship with her flatmate as she does with Vanessa.
“Two glasses! I should’ve just brought two straws, but we can at least pretend we’re classy,” Monique announces, almost booting the door off its hinges as she stumbles into her bedroom holding two wine glasses in one hand, a corkscrew in the other, and balancing a bottle of red very precariously in the crook of her elbow. Vanessa laughs, a little thrill running down her spine as Monique’s brilliant white smile gets flashed her way. Her hair’s orange today, a bouncy slick of wavy flames that Vanessa already can’t wait to tear her fingers through, and her eyelids are covered in glitter that’s making her brown eyes sparkle even more than they normally do.
Vanessa watches as Monique launches herself down on the bed beside her, giving scant regard for the glasses in her hand. She places them onto the duvet then begins driving the corkscrew into the top of the bottle.
“Oh shit, this bitch has a cork! We are so classy this evening,” Vanessa murmurs her approval, Monique smiling smugly beside her.
“Bitch, I told you it was good wine! You ain’t believe me or somethin’?” she narrows her eyes, Vanessa protesting with a laugh. Monique gives a little satisfied cry of delight as the cork pops out of the bottle. She snatches up one of the glasses and sloshes the crimson liquid into it, so thick and red that they may as well be drinking blood. Vanessa smiles shyly as Monique passes the glass to her, thanking her as she takes a small sip. This is nice. The wine, the curtains, the twinkling lights. It’s the nicest non-date that Vanessa’s been on in a while.
“See I might be a hoe, but I can be a lady when I want to be,” Monique shrugs lightly as she swirls her own wine around in its glass before taking a long drink. Vanessa lets out a derisive snort.
“You’re not a hoe, shut up.”
Monique fixes Vanessa with a look that makes her melt a little bit. “Bitch, if you don’t think I’m a hoe by now then I’m clearly not doing my job right.”
Vanessa feels herself blushing. It’s out of character for her. She’s so used to being the one with the upper hand, the confident one who knows she can make girls do anything she wants. That’s what she was with Brooke Lynn, anyway. But Monique has this intoxicating mystery to her that keeps Vanessa on her toes, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy not being the one calling the shots all the time. Vanessa can’t help but flirt back a little. “Oh, so what is your job?"
"Making you forget about your bitch-ass ex girlfriend?” Monique gestures as if it’s obvious. Vanessa feels another small stab to her gut.
“She wasn’t a bitch, don’t be mean! She just…wanted something else,” she explains, sipping her wine again. She feels her heartbeat accelerate when Monique rests a hand on her thigh.
“Okay, how ‘bout I call her…weird? ‘Cuz if she didn’t want you then that’s weird behaviour,” Monique says matter-of-factly. Vanessa smiles bashfully. She likes being flattered like this, likes being told things she hasn’t heard in a while. Monique brings out a coy, demure side to Vanessa that very rarely gets seen. She is so used to being outspoken, loud, confident, on transmit constantly.
“You can call her weird, then,” Vanessa murmurs, her pitch low as Monique traces patterns across her skin. Vanessa is glad she wore the outfit she did to the library- short denim skirt, oversized red jumper tucked into the waistband of it. Briefly, it flashes through her mind to wonder what underwear she put on this morning. It’s not like her and Monique are together- far from it, they are the definition of friends with benefits- but if the girl’s going to make her come, the least she can do is look presentable for her.
“’M glad you came round,” Monique says quietly, leaning against her purple headboard. Her hair is a shock of orange against the violet fabric. The admission is too soft, hits too close to home. Vanessa doesn’t know if she likes it or if it breaks her heart a bit. It sounds too much like being wanted.
“You would’ve found someone else to sink this with. Bob’s in, isn’t she?” Vanessa argues, unable to accept the compliment.
Monique shrugs her disagreement, her fingers gentle against Vanessa’s skin. “She ain’t Vanessa, though.”
She feels something in her body fizz when she hears Monique say her name; the little lilt to her voice and the way she drags it out like it’s the most beautiful word in the world. Vanessa gives a small shiver as she feels a throb between her legs. She shoots Monique a little smirk. “Stop flirting, bitch.”
Monique shuffles closer, a satisfied look on her face that makes Vanessa feel like a fly caught in a web in the best way possible. “If a cute girl’s in my bed, I’m gonna flirt with her. Sorry. Just facts."
Vanessa wants to reach out and touch Monique, wants her hands all over her body like the other night. Monique’s very experienced, something else that renders Vanessa speechless whenever they sleep with each other. Tentatively, Vanessa replaces her wine glass on one of the bedside tables and rests her free hand on Monique’s hip. The black leggings she’s wearing don’t leave a huge amount to the imagination. Monique senses her hesitation and pouts at her mock-sympathetically. "You know you can touch if you want to, baby.”
Vanessa lets out a little sigh at the pet name, which in turn makes something flash in Monique’s eyes and she goes from stroking the outside of Vanessa’s thigh to the soft skin on the inside. Vanessa wordlessly spreads her legs, the heat between them almost unbearable, and she wonders how Monique can make her so desperate to be touched in so few words and tracings against her skin.
“You’re so easy, Jesus,” Monique teases, and Vanessa is aching to kiss the smirk off her face but loves the anticipation too much to burst the bubble yet.
“You love it,” she bites back quietly, snaking a hand underneath Monique’s cropped t shirt to stroke along her spine. She’s rewarded by Monique throwing one leg over the other, her eyes dark as she looks at her. Monique places her own glass on her bedside table, Vanessa giving a little laugh. “Shit, how long did that last? Five minutes?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know exactly why I wanted you round,” Monique retorts. Her hand strokes a little higher. Vanessa bucks her hips a little and Monique gives a little appreciative hum. “Damn. You’re so needy.”
“Be less needy if you weren’t such a tease,” Vanessa is ready with her comeback, Monique biting her lip and smiling as the frustration starts to show a little in Vanessa’s voice.
“I’m not teasin’, you’re just impatient,” Monique shrugs, Vanessa almost crying out in desperation as she pulls away. She’s rewarded when Monique grabs the hem of her top and pulls it over her head to reveal a red lace bralet that Vanessa hasn’t seen her wear before. The colour pops against her dark skin and Vanessa is torn between not taking her eyes off her in it or trying to tear it off her. Monique sees her reaction and replaces her hand between her legs, Vanessa giving a little sigh of anticipation as she speaks. “You like this?”
Vanessa simply nods, too scared that if she replies she’ll end up begging Monique to touch her, so she bites her lip instead. Monique gives a little smirk, takes her hand away again and quickly rips off her leggings to reveal matching red underwear, the top of which curves upwards to expose her hipbones and sits high near her waist. The whole thing makes Vanessa feel like she’s having a heart attack; she can feel her pulse racing. Unable to help herself, Vanessa reaches out, loops a finger under the elastic of the waistband and uses it to pull Monique in to kiss her. When their lips touch, Vanessa has to stop herself from letting out a moan. Monique kisses slowly and unrelentingly, completely ignoring Vanessa’s attempts to speed things up, and when she slides her tongue over Vanessa’s it reminds her of what it can do. Everything is hot and wet and languid and Vanessa can feel herself getting worked up. At this rate it’s not going to take a lot for Monique to make her come apart.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Monique murmurs against her lips, and Vanessa whines like a brat as she tries to grind down against her fingers. Monique smiles smugly at the action, kissing her deeply. Vanessa runs a light hand up and down her back, letting her nails graze her skin slightly because she knows it drives Monique wild. As Monique hums her appreciation against her mouth, Vanessa can’t take it any longer and she throws a leg over Monique’s so that she’s straddling her. The sudden friction almost makes Vanessa’s eyes roll into the back of her head and judging by the expression on Monique’s face her reaction was well received. Vanessa bites back a whimper as Monique drops her lips down to her neck, kissing it slowly once and then a second time.
“You’re the most beautiful fuckin’ girl I’ve ever met, oh my God. I wish you could see yourself right now,” Monique whispers into her ear. Vanessa moans, can feel how wet she is through the fabric of her underwear against Monique’s bare skin, and she blushes as she realises she’s not going to last much longer if Monique keeps talking to her like this. As if she reads her mind, Monique keeps whispering. “I was so gutted when we met at that party because you were seeing that girl, and all I wanted to do was to get you into my room and make you beg for it…you were wearin’ that black satin body and I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you for days…”
Vanessa tilts her head to meet Monique’s lips, brings her jaw up to kiss her messily. As if to fulfil the fantasy Monique’s just told her about, Vanessa breaks away and whispers frantically. “Please, babygirl, please, please, please.”
“What do you want, princess?”
Vanessa is close and the pet name isn’t helping. She lets out a gasp as she bucks her hips, realises Monique’s touching herself with her free hand while the other is ripping out the hem of Vanessa’s sweater where it’s tucked into the waistband of her skirt. “Keep talking, fuck.”
“You want me to tell you how pretty you look, baby? You want me to tell you how fuckin’ pretty you look gettin’ yourself off against my thigh like a desperate lil’ brat?” Monique taunts her, Vanessa giving a squeal as Monique dips her fingers under the cup of her bra and brushes her fingers against one of her nipples. “You’ve not even taken your clothes off and you’re this wound up, fuck, you’re so wet and I’ve not touched you…”
Vanessa’s senses are in overload. Her hair is all in her face, Monique’s still teasing her nipples, and she can feel herself slick against Monique’s skin as she grinds against her thigh. Her clit is throbbing so much she feels like she’s going to explode. “M'nique, I’m gonna…fuck…”
“Go, baby. Do it,” Monique whispers. Her voice is low and sinful and she’s barely whispered her permission before Vanessa is crying out embarrassingly loudly, completely unable to control herself but not able to bring herself to care as she gives another, slightly quieter cry then a tiny squeal as she feels herself shudder, coming down from the high. She’s blushing as she kisses Monique, the other girl smiling against her lips, and Vanessa realises she’s still touching herself. She leans back and smiles, gasping a little and trying to collect herself.
“Shit,” is the first thought she can verbalise, causing Monique to laugh out loud. “That escalated fast.”
Monique nods, smiling guiltily. Vanessa looks at her spread out on the bed; hand down her pants, chest rising and falling quickly, hair spread out against the pillow, and the sheen Vanessa left against her thigh. The sight is enough to make Vanessa run her tongue over her lips slightly.
“You still want me, baby?” she murmurs quietly, Monique pouting and nodding again, a little needy sigh escaping her full lips. Vanessa tugs her sweater over her head, pulls her skirt over her ankles and tosses it onto the floor. She sits up and pats her lap gently. “C'mere."
Monique obediently crawls over to her, sits on her lap and kisses her as Vanessa threads her hands through her long, orange hair.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
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danchoujo · 6 years
Text
september 24th, 2018
woke up from:
an almost functioning narrative
the beginning is blurry as always but it's starts with the top few floors of an apartment building, which switches between having a few regular rooms on each floor to just one lavish room/department store on each floor. at one point I am at wu mei's apartment, which is crazy nice and goes in a circle that melds together with some sort of mall.
this goes away and I'm somewhere I don't remember. then I climb the stairs and enter a room with some kids that are supposedly my cousins, but I see unrelated people there. I help them move this heavy block that looks like a old tv. there are two of them and we put them into a small, shallow pool (10x15ft, about three feet deep but at some points it seems like four). one side of the pool has the ledges passed with pale pink pillow things. the other side is pushed against a wall with some squarish screens in it. this set up is for some weird video game (the back of my mind keeps insistent it's wii something) but instead of making the block things race within the pool jmomey and Jonathan (pearl's cousin from pshine2015) jump in and start swimming. I think that jmoney is going to win but he's several seconds behind Jonathan, who comes in at 7.1sec.
while this is happening I'm sitting to the bottom right of the pool with some girl (we are near the entrance). this girl is white but has a blue tinge to her skin sometimes. she's a bit chubby, with a wide, bulbous nose and light, wavy, greyish ash blonde hair that is falling out of a thick black silk ribbon at the back of her head. she is wearing a loose crewneck sweatshirt that is a bit frayed at the collar. her name is something like erina or alice? she seems to be around my age, maybe a little younger, and says, "I know I don't look like much, but I'm actually the god of attraction/attractiveness." I think about the people who must make fun of her looks and I feel a bit sorry for her.
it's raining hard outside and I think, in the back of my head, that I have to get back to somewhere (my grandma's place? I can't remember) downstairs. I go to the door (nearby) and see that's it's raining like crazy, so I take the umbrella that's hanging from the top off the doorway. it's light blue and ruffly with lace, so it may be a parasol, but I don't have much choice at this point.
I don't want to pull the umbrella open all the way so I attempt multiple times too walk to the stairs with the umbrella scrunched open slightly. it doesn't work. rain pours through the umbrella as if h it was full of holes (though there are none when I check). eventually I open it a bit wider and I'm fine.
the original goal was to go down one floor, but now it is to go up one floor. I have a hard time finding the stairs and one I make it up it looks somewhat like the food court area of the duty free store in thailand, but empty. I am positively dripping in rain by this point. as I walk along the circle that this is in, I remember that I still have the umbrella, which now is my grandmother's. I contemplate not returning it but decide that I have to, side it's my grandma.
I look around so see if there is anyone (at this point in mostly exploring) and wu mei pops up. apparently this mall like place is her apartment, and she's swiffering this one section of floors? I ask her to lead me out and she takes me the way I came.
but instead of getting back to the stairs, we end up entering this cramped mall like area that merges seamlessly into her home. during this short walk I have been following my wet footprints (which are not backwards like I'd think) and I become intrigued when the footprints walk closer to the stores. it walks past two or the stores and seems to enter one with red walls. when I enter, the lighting is weak; it has several rows of wooden pews pushed the same brick red color as the walls and at the other end of the store they're is a dance floor. many people are dancing, and behind them is a big screen of the music video of whatever they are dancing to. someone tells me that jungkook of bts is there and I think that I can see him, so of course I rush down between the pews to get a better look. indeed, he is there with his bright pinky red hair and a black outfit (from the lotte concert before the idol comeback, but the straps are less present). there are people dancing around him but they are giving him a wide berth, and I can see him quite clearly. I whip out my phone and take a snapchat where he syncs up with the man dancing in the music video. in the back of my head I am aware that this is too fantastical to be real and that is a dream, but I don't consciously think this. instead, I hope very hard that this snap posts properly.
it doesn't. a white guy from the right comes up next to me and shows me an app on his phone that nasa or the government or something uses. it shows a gps of the mall he zooms into the dance floor, which is outlined with orange. he says that means that this area has bad connection and that it's hard to upload things because of that. I understand this but I still feel a bit disappointed.
the music suddenly stops and. someone starts speaking into a microphone. they say to come towards the front of the pews and sit down. this isn't said in a threatening massacre way, but I get the feeling something bad is about to happen when I start moving forward. people are coming out of the pews and the walkway is getting cramped, but it is very easy for me to go forward. part of me wants to go to the very front in case this is a meet and greet with jungkook, but my wariness makes me hang back at the third row of pews, even though there are gaps between the people in front of me that would allow me to the front very easily. app nerd guy starts with me and i'm a bit wary of him because while he seems harmless he is a very obvious stranger to me and: taller and looks stronger than me. but I mostly ignore him. instead of sitting at the pews, everybody gets onto the ground in an earthquake safety position (on knees with torso hunched over and and on the ground or over head).
the person at the mic says that they (plural) will go around and greet everybody. this isn't like a meet and greet, instead it is more like a business workshop that teaches you how to greet people professionally. I get the feeling that they are testing us to see if we can do it properly, and that something horrible will happen to us if we mess up. since I'm scared, I crawl into between the second and third pews slightly. I am stopped by a black rooster. it's dark, so I can only see it's silhouette, but it's slender and sharp like the ones on weather vanes and I'm afraid that it's going to peck me so I don't go further into the pews.
I can hear the people around me get approached by the event people. from what I can hear you have to shake their hand and greet them. I have this bashing feeling that I'm going to misgender whoever I'm taking to and call them a lady, and I become more fearful and anxious as the event people get closer. I can hear app nerd guy do the greeting correctly, and then I'm next. the rooster under the pews is now a full black cat, so I crawl a bit back under to find some comfort. I make the kissing sounds I make for momo and the cat immediately shoves its face into mind. I think to myself that this cat is a lot more forward than momo, and then I must stand up to face the greeters.
I stand up (sit up?) and see a lady in a business suit and pencil skirt with jungkook, except instead of jungkook its this guy freddy from my freshman learning community two years ago. I greet the lady correctly but I reach out with my left hand when we go do the handshake. for some reason I thought that business people shook hands with their left because they had to hold stuff in their right, but obviously the lady held out her right hand and our hands bumped awkwardly.
people that did the greeting incorrectly started turning into various monsters like zombies and ghouls. I felt my own face start to twist and change. because I only messed up half of the greeting, only half of me changed. this is one of the rare dreams (only dream) where I am in first person instead of third, so I can't see my own face, but I can feel it twisting and tingling. I have the feeling that the skin " the top left side of my face is cooling and blueing.
naturally, I'm freaking out. I turn to app nerd guy since he did the greeting correctly and is still human. however, his skin has also blued and I can see his canines extending past his lips. his hair, which was dark brown and a bit curly, turns black and so does his beard (hugh jackman style). his clothes (red orange zip up hoodie) haven't changed. he looks just as terrified as I am, back against a pew and arms and legs pulled toward himself.
I'm confused because I thought he would stay human, but then I realized that everyone is turning into monsters; the people that did the greeting incorrectly just turned into monsters that had less autonomy of themselves while the people that did it correctly got turned into more model creatures like vampires, werewolves, (less decayed) zombies, etc. app nerd guy and I seem to reach this conclusion simultaneously, and I ask him what I've turned into. he balls his hands into fists and moves then near his face in the universal sign for cat. at this moment I catch a glimpse of myself. the upper left side of my face is a pale blue, and some small horns can be seen protruding from my forehead and temples where my hair is pulled back. my left ear is pointed, and I have vaguely pointed teeth. some of my hair is pulled back into a black ribbon, and my hands are boney and sharp clawed when I move them to touch my face. I guess I'm a cat demon or something? I conclude that this is partially a result of the cat I made contact with right before the greeting.
app nerd guy and I sit in panicked despair for a while, and then the lady and jungkook (who is jungkook again) walk by us. jungkook reaches out to run his hands through our hair, and im not sure why I'm compelled to but I push my head into his hand and then his hip.
as they walk away app nerd guy speaks, but the words don't seem to be coming from his mouth. "nobody can resist that guy, but that's not even his real form. apparently his real form is very plain, but he shifts into that appearance so he can attract people." (he also said something about thighs bursting out of pants but I'm not sure what the wording is. it was weird)
when he says this I am suddenly reminded of erina/alice, and I know in my heart that she is jungkook. she attracted everybody here and turned them into monsters to punish them for mocking her looks.
I wake up.
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astatueofus8 · 7 years
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Calum Hood Request - Part 2
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It was tradition that whenever the boys came home one of their parents would throw a party. The other families would attend and food would be served, everyone would catch up and have a good time. The boys always looked forward to this. Family and friends had always been of huge importance to them, even after striking it big.
It was Luke's household that was hosting this year and you were silently giving thanks for that fact. You had mingled for about a half hour. You joked around with Michael, you talked to Luke's parents and you had even ate something. Once Ashton's parents began their toast and took the spotlight you left the house. You snuck over to your backyard and disappeared through the sliding glass doors. You felt a weight fall off your shoulders. Your parents were on vacation thousands of miles away and wouldn't be back for another week. You were able to let your face fall from the forced smile as you shuffled down the steps to your basement room. You fell onto your large bed, still clothed in your skinny jeans, as you pulled the blankets around yourself.
You closed your eyes but there was no way you could fall asleep.
You heard your phone buzzing but decided to ignored it.
You could hear footsteps coming down the steps. You closed your eyes tighter, hoping that whoever it was would think you were sleeping and leave.
"Ell, I know you're awake. You want to tell me what's wrong?" You had expected to hear Calum's voice but instead it was Luke.
You rolled over to face him.
He sat down at the foot of the bed. "So..."
"I'm just tired today, Luke. I really don't have any energy." You weren't lying.
Luke's arm reached out to your nightstand, he pressed a button on your phone and then let his hand fall back into his lap.  "Are you sure this doesn't have anything to do with the boyfriend?"
You knew he saw the 4 missed called from Logan. "We aren't together anymore."
"You guys seemed cool when we left. What happened?" Luke asked as he laid down next to you.
Your heart was beginning to pound and the bruises on your back began to ache as you recalled what had happened two nights ago. You thought about telling Luke exactly why you had left Logan. You shrugged, "Personal differences."
He shook his head. "That's a bit of a cop out answer huh?"
"What do you want me to say? We were only together about 7 months, it's not the end of the world. Logan just turned out to be someone different. Someone I didn't like." Your voice held an aggressive tone. A tone that Luke wasn't used to hearing.
Luke sat up and began getting off the bed. You lightly touched his wrist. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out. I really am glad your back."
Luke showed his famous wide smile. "I know. Don't worry about it, break-ups can be tough. We are all going out to the club tonight by the way. So, get ready and meet us at my place around 9."
"Do I have to?" you groaned at the thought.
"Yes, you have to." This was all Luke said as he took the basement steps two at a time.
Your phone began buzzing again, this time a text.
Logan: We need to talk.
You had already done all the talking necessary to make a clean break. He wasn't going to come begging for forgiveness, you were too smart for that. Getting out now was the best thing you could do for yourself. Those blue eyes of his had a different shade and they were blacker than black. Sadly, even through all the logic there was still a microscopic piece of you that missed him, the way he worried about you constantly, his protectiveness, his possessiveness, the way he made you feel loved.
Your phone buzzed again.
Calum: You're coming tonight right?
You: Of course.
Calum: Good, I miss you.
You: I miss you too.
Maybe being single wouldn't be so awful after all. You still had Calum to lean on, you still had the boys, Leah, your future to focus on. You sat up and gave Leah a call. You explained tonight's plan and asked if she would come along. She was there the night that Logan acted out and you were in need of some support from someone who actually knew what was going on. She agreed to come over and get ready together.
You pushed sadness to the back burner for now as you took a quick shower. Your natural curly hair fell over your shoulders in a messy but beautiful fashion. You stood wrapped in a towel, examining yourself in the mirror. As you turned from side to side, the bruises were visible. You began matching each bruise with a memory of what collided with your skin that night but you heard Leah bouncing down the stairs. You shut off the bathroom light and walked out into your bedroom.
"So! Please tell me Ashton is still single?" Leah begged as she threw her duffel bag on the chair and embraced you in a soft hug.
You smiled at her forwardness. Leah had always had a crush on Ashton, ever since the time he accidentally dropped a drum on her foot and acted like he cut off her arm. It was sweet actually. "As far as I know, he is. I didn't talk to anyone much today."
She showed a weak smile as she began taking clothes from her bag. "Do they know?"
You jumped at the notion. "Of course they don't know! Why the hell would they know?"
Leah held her hands up in surrender. "I was just asking. You normally tell Calum what's going on in your life, and Luke."
"Well this is different, Leah. This is more personal." You looked at her as she continued going through her things. You knew she didn't agree that it was "more" personal but instead, she knew that you felt embarrassed by the entire situation. You mainly didn't want them to think of you as some wounded animal that they needed to look after.
"So, I'm wearing this little number. What do you think?" Leah held up a red and black dress. The black lace covered her arms and the red skirted part would hug her curves nicely.
You smiled sincerely at your friend. "Leah, you would look beautiful in anything."
"So do you! What are you going to wear?" She played with her wavy auburn hair as she scanned your closet. She pulled out one of your favorite dresses. It was a small black dress, the skirt was slightly pleated and the top crossed in the front, making it look fancier than its price tag.
You could feel the stress bubbling in your stomach. You sighed heavily as you thought about the difficulty of dressing up. "It doesn't cover my back."
"Or your wrists, let's try something else." She stated sternly as she started rummaging through everything you owned and everything she brought.
You sat on your bed feeling like a barbie-doll as Leah ran around the room looking for the right thing to dress you in. Finally, she came out of your closet with a burgundy bodycon dress that had thin long sleeves and only exposed the shoulders. You tilted your head to the side in thought. "Will my shoulders be okay exposed?"
"Your hair will cover whatever this dress doesn't and the only other options aren't club worthy. Especially, clubbing with 5SOS." She was confident in the dress and you slipped it on. She looked you over and you both agreed this was the best it was going to get.
You both grabbed your clutches and headed over to Luke's.
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