mixed signals;

Mae Hanning. Not your bubblegum bitch, not your baby, not your sugar. [ independent oc. ]

[francisalberts]

What was the point in him trying to talk to her? After a few sentences he had became exhausted with her, because it would not be a sincere conversation, and therefore he had found himself to move away from her, standing up again away from the seat. He did not wish to discuss anything with her. It would only lead to disappointment and he knew that of course by now. “Alright well, I got things t’be doin’ ‘n frankly, I ain’t that interested.” There was no term of endearment that usually came from his mouth. No, darling, sweetheart, baby, just pure fact. No familiarity.”Enjoy the rest of your drink.”

[fightxflight-blog]

“Thank you,” she nodded. She took a napkin off the table and pulled a pen from her pocket. She scribbled the letter M and a number underneath it. She didn’t deserve her company, but what she deserved was never something she cared about. She was selfish by nature. She finished her drink and stood, pulling her jacket over her arms. “And since when did that hotel start allowing pets? The dog in the room next to me is awful.” A hint to where she was, in case he wanted to come see her. 

She was being hopeful in the worst of ways. She put a tip down on the table and pulled a cigarette from her pack as she walked out the door. 

[fightxflight-blog]

 “What the hell are you doing here?!” He did not wish to see her again. He had been living without this woman who haunted his life for the years they had not seen each other at all. She was beautiful. God, he loved and hated this goddamn woman. No. He didn’t know what he felt anymore, he was just pure anger.

 “Where the hell have you been?” He asked in a stern grunt, he pulled out a chair and sat opposite her, he did not need to ask for her permission - all sort of forms of etiquette and politeness, he felt, had been completely dismissed the morning she had disappeared without a single note of her presence having even existed.

[fightxflight-blog]

“Drinks and a show,” she said softly. Sarcasm wasn’t going to help her situation, but it had become a part of her. She took another drink and watched him sit. His movements were something she still understood. She knew how those blue eyes could soften, but she had a feeling they wouldn’t for quite awhile. Crossing one leg over the other, she sighed and licked her lips.

“Around. Everywhere.” She hadn’t settled anywhere too long. The longest she’d stayed was a month in Seattle, but she’d regretted it when people became too attached to her. She’d moved on. Leaving that morning hadn’t been a simple decision. She’d considered taking cash from his wallet, but had found kindness enough to not. She hadn’t left a note- not her style. “Washington. California. Nevada.”

[fightxflight-blog]

Perhaps he should have been more welcoming when he saw the woman; when he approached her. Unfortunately, this was not the case. He was not even quite sure how to explain his current emotions at that moment. He was a mixture of emotions from upset, solemn, angry, desperate, elated…but betrayal was one of the main words that stuck in his head, and Sinatra didn’t deal well with betrayal. 

The woman had known him well. She would have known how lonely he was generally, how upset he would become so easily,and depressed - how he wanted company, and when he thought he had found the woman to rest with him, to keep him feeling secure of which he would repay the favour, he awoke to find nothing. No one beside him. “Get out.” He said as soon as he approached her, his voice had risen and he had gestured with his hand towards the door, angrily, his eyes were cold and stern rather than blue and welcoming; “Get t’hell outta ‘ere!”

[fightxflight-blog]

Mae remained in the seat, calmly taking a drink from the liquor in her glass. She set it down as he spoke loudly, running a finger around the rim of the glass. His words did nothing for her; she’d heard them before, and even if he were to strike, he knew she was a woman who could handle herself well. Clearing her throat, she looked up at him, studying his face. Age was kind to him. She hadn’t change a bit.

“I haven’t finished my drink yet,” she explained, glancing down to the half empty glass. “But I will leave once I have.” She rested her elbows on the table and looked at the empty stage, his voice still ringing in her ears. He was quite brilliant at what he did. She had kept the same job, more or less. 

[andtheotherfears]

[francisalberts]

Well, life had been going pretty swell. It fluctuated as all parts of life did and after the disappearance of one love affair he had found himself to be growing attached too, that sparked like wild fire but before he knew it, she had disappeared, and he couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere, as if she hadn’t even existed. It had been two years since then. Where on earth was she? Well, he managed to forget about her, and it was easy to pretend she didn’t exist because it seemed she didn’t. She was no where to be found. 

He didn’t have fear of passing her in the street or hearing her laugh or a voice that sounded like hers. He forgot her entirely almost. He did not think about her quite as much, and he was laughing much more. He was on stage performing tonight, and it was only when he came to his last set and finished a song, taking his bow, did he acknowledge in the near distance someone whom looked familiar. Whom he stared at a bit too long, before blinking, and trying to pretend she did not exist. It couldn’t be her after all. It didn’t make sense.

fightxflight

[fightxflight-blog]

Like a shadow, she’d slipped away with the setting of the sun. No goodbyes, no warnings. She’d pulled on her jeans, grabbed her bag, and gotten on a bus. She hadn’t heard much of her past flame. A few whispers, but for the most part, she remained good at staying invisible. She’d been traveling on auto pilot, letting her feet guide her wherever they pleased, and they landed her in a small hotel room with a familiarity that turned her stomach. 

Looking more or less the same, she got stares walking down the street. Thick black hair, piercings, tattoos, and torn clothes, she made her way into the dark room and sat herself at the back. The eye contact didn’t deter her. She stayed planted in her seat as those around her applauded, gathering their things to return to their boring homes and fickle lives. 

[holdthesir-deactivated20151107]

I grinned against her skin. Couldn’t help it. The way she squirmed, thrashed— it was a huge boost to an already monumental ego. With her fingers tangled in my hair, I let her control the situation— but that was just the physical aspect. Beneath that, there was a distinct layer of her desperation— her willingness or her need to accept more from what I had to give. Essentially, even though she was holding the reigns, it was still my show. And I loved every second of it. By the time her grip had tugged my lips back up towards her clit, my tongue was batting at it with unashamed lashes of pure want, my own fingers coming to spread her so that I could stay there, just like that, with unimpeded access to the skin that made her shudder. The edge of a teeth or two grazed the nub gently, my lips forming around the bud and sucking until there was a breathy sound of need coming from the control room.

The pads of calloused fingers which spread her open now took the path that I’m guessing was less traveled by her previous customers. Instead of just plunging a finger or two inside and banging her out hard and fast, my index and middle fingers started to stroke along her lips, working skin as close to my mouth as I could get comfortable, stimulating some of the nerves tucked away to find under that skin. Hey, anatomy was science, and if there was anything I was— aside from the usual adjectives used to describe yours truly— I was a fucking scientist. Come on, did you really think I slept with the entire Victoria’s Secret spread for the past ten years running because I didn’t know this shit? Give me a break. Money only gets you so far.

Eventually, my fingers took over the station my mouth had been busy occupying, and then my tongue was right back where it started, edging along her entrance before working its way inside with slow, wriggling movements, catching her aching nub between my thumb and forefinger and rolling it— delicately. The thing about it is, sometimes women wanted it hard, fast, dirty. Sometimes, they wanted to be treated like a princess. I’d like to think Mae would notice that this was a little bit of both: sure, I wanted to fuck her like crazy— um, have you seen her? But, I don’t know. I wanted her to feel just… wanted, too. With a low grunt, my hands moved to the back of her thighs, lifting her off the sheets and right into my fucking face, my tongue slipping deeper inside.

Come on, sweetheart. Let it go.

[fightxflight-blog]

The confidence Mae radiated was from years of practice. She enjoyed control. Control insured that she had the upper hand on any situation. When people started yelling and she kept her voice flat and apathetic, they lost it even more. She was skillful with her temper. In this situation, control was shared. Sure, she was directing him somewhat, but he also had a bit of choice. It was a new sensation. She didn't hate it, but wasn't absolutely in love with it. They're night obviously had a lot more to it than this, though she knew she'd love every fucking second because Tony was pushing her into a personal heaven.

He knows her anatomy better than anybody she'd ever been with, and he makes it very clear. He doesn't concentrate on one spot for too long or move too fast. Her vanity had always been a tad large. She'd wanted people to treat her better than they actually did, though was never in the place to tell them that. They paid her once they were done; she wasn't about to fuck that up. She knew she was captivating; her flaws were easily overlooked. Sure, she was a bit on the skinny side, but not by choice. And maybe her chest could be bigger, but who gave a shit? Clearly not Tony. She was aware of her good cards and played them perfectly.

When her hips are yanked up off the bed she gasps, fingers moving from his hair to clutch the sheets for dear life. Her hair covers her face, still wind whipped from their fall, and she swears she's never felt this good in her life. Most would expect her to shout and scream with her orgasm, though she'd always been a bit on the quiet side, with a small cry and mantra of his name. Her release has her thighs shaking and her entire frame trembling, hands finding his hair again. When she's reduced to small jerks, she's too tired to help him hold herself up anymore, and her full weight pressed down into his grasp.

[dizasterinahalo]

TGWTDT STORE www.etsy.com/shop/disasterinahalo

Sign the Petition to get the Sequels made www.thepetitionsite.com/takeaction/852/063/970

[fuckthings]

[holdthesir-deactivated20151107]

It was insane how much it drove me crazy— illogical, even. Just that simple feeling of her fingers dancing across my chest, and I was ready to snap. While this whole thing moved along— my hand escalating the encounter another notch with the pressure and friction I applied to her tender bud—  I was vaguely entertaining the idea to guide her hand away from my pants. I wanted to make her feel good. I figured, for the first time in who knows how fucking long, this was about someone else before it was about me— but that idea was completely scrapped with the realization of one simple fact: Mae wasn’t the kinda girl to do anything for anyone that she didn’t want to. Even me. So, if she was unbuckling shit, that could only translate one way: she wanted to get naked. Thank fuck. Let me help with that.

My hand pulled out from under her waistband, growling low before I was working on tugging her shirt up and over her head. Mine was next. By the time my weight shifted down against hers, it was skin-to-skin upstairs and it was fucking mind-blowing. I could feel the metallic bite of another piercing, but that wasn’t what had me moaning. The real excitement here was just the girl— the woman— who was eccentric and confident and fucking sexy in her own skin. My mouth was practically stealing hers, and I had no regrets when my tongue rolled over hers at the exact same time that my hand moved back to the spot between her thighs, rubbing her through the fabric this time. “I want to see you fall apart for me,” I rasped against her lips, pinching her clit lightly through the lace. “I want you to cum, Mae.” And I’m gonna make it happen.

I moved down her body before I could even think about it, pulling her underwear away with the direction I was headed. Honestly, I would’ve ripped them, but I was trying to be slightly more dignified than the other assholes I know she got stuck with. By the time the cloth slipped off her feet, I was kissing up the inside of her left leg, grazing her inner thigh lightly with the signature stubble before I moved to nip at the other thigh. I was planning on kissing along that leg, too, but I got distracted by the wetness pooling there and that was it. My mouth was on her in seconds, first, feeling the tongue flattening against her clit for a few greedy strokes and then gliding down the length of her folds to catch the taste of her and take it for my own. I placed my palms on either side of her thighs and spread them to fit myself there comfortably, and, the second my eyes flicked up to meet her own, it was on. Rimming along the sensitive skin of her entrance, it was only another second before my tongue was edging itself inside. Wriggling slightly.

[fightxflight-blog]

When a man invites her into his home, she doesn't have much of a choice. She needs the cash, so when he passes out, she'll steal whatever is in the guy's wallet and take off. It's not the best way of living, but she's not ashamed. She has never felt stripped of her dignity. She'd been told by teachers when in high school that if you're good at something, never do it for free. She was following the advice as well as she could. With Tony, everything was different. Entirely different. He wasn't treating her like she was cheap, and wasn't treating her like she was fragile. He knew that she could take anything that was thrown her way. Nobody had ever treated her in that way. It was terribly, terribly addicting and she felt so compelled to get up and run because if she grew too fond of him, she might come back. Seeing clients more than twice was a big mistake, more than often.

She forced the worry out of her head when his bare chest was pressed against hers. The warmth made her head spin, and the contrast of metal didn't go unnoticed. But this was Tony. She'd expected this. She'd heard the gossip passed around in multiple places, but they'd always failed to mention how clever he was. How he saved his own life, and many others. He was prying his way into how she worked with ease. She'd hadn't had another person make her climax in ages. Tony wanted to. Wanted to see her squirm and gasp and watch the way she cried out. She couldn't even respond to him. She was in a sort of shock; she'd read him completely wrong. She'd thought him to be the man to want to take care of himself before others. She had never been more incorrect. Tony Stark; one of the only men in the world to take her off guard.

His lips and stubble on her skin rose the flesh on her arms. Her pale skin was tinted pink across her chest, which was rising and falling quickly. Mae hadn't been taken care of like this in a very long time, and she easily came undone for him. Legs spread, hands wandering to find his hair. Her head tossed back with a gasp, words falling from her mouth that she couldn't quite stop. "Fuck fuck fuck, Tony." He was going to get what he wanted very soon, considering the last time anybody had even attempted to eat her out was months ago. She knew what she wanted and had never been afraid to tell anybody, but this man didn't need direction. He knew what he was doing as though they'd been sharing a bed for ages.

[wertloserbastard]

[francisalberts]

"I’d suit a tiara." He insisted gently, watching her as she smiled as though it were the only sight in the entire world that could make him so content. His eyes ghosted over her form, over her features as he saw how delighted she seemed to be just by his presence and he could only wonder what had possessed him to leave in the first place: a career. He had said his goodbye briefly to her at the beginning, made a few jokes, made a few sincere words about the business she was in and to watch herself. Then he had departed without contact, only to find that he had wandered along the streets to find the woman here now. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful with a child. Frank let her kiss the flesh of his shoulder, falling smitten beneath the softest of touches as though he had never ever received them before, but this was Frank Sinatra. Women were not oblivious to him. His own hand seemed to softly run against her hip in light circular caresses, creating shapes with his fingertips down to her thigh s though this was just another painting he was artistically creating without a paintbrush. “You should sleep.” Frank stated, his remark near to a whisper as he seemed to enfold her in his embrace soon enough, bringing her near to his chest, where he felt she belonged and always had even in the early days.

[fightxflight-blog]

Life's main purposed seemed to be about having something. If you could say you had something, or somebody, than you were living a worthy life. Mae had never had anybody. She borrowed strangers and they borrowed her. A short time, but a concept proving that they had had something, despite how short it had been. She'd never had good parents, or a good home. She had temporary pain relievers. She had strangers' beds to wake up in. These things were not exactly what she wanted. She'd always had loose ideas on what she desired, because if she didn't dwell, she couldn't get depressed over it, now, could she? Frank had been somebody. Somebody she missed at night, and liked to eat with. Somebody she thought of when she thought of the word friend, or lover. They were far from picture perfect, but it was all she needed. When Rosie had come along, she could finally say her life was worth living. And now Frank was in the picture. Mae pushed his shoulder gently to force him onto his back, and straddled his hips, tucking her head just under his chin. She could heard the thud of his heart, and closed her eyes. "I'm not tired."

[fightxflight-blog]

{ oops I'm alive. }

[fightxflight-blog]

{ Might get some time to work on replies Thursday. I have three active threads I adore, but it'd be great if I could interact with more people. Like for a starter or us plotting? }

[tricksxthings]

every morning that you come in, yelling that goddamned rise and shine, rise and shine ! I think to myself, how lucky dead people are !

████ ☾ : an independent Tom Wingfield from The Glass Menagerie.

████ ☾ : taking place in New York City in 1941.

████ ☾ : mun and muse are 18+.

████ ☾ : multi-verse, multi-ship.

████ ☾ : original characters, all fandoms welcome.

████ ☾ : 4+ years of experience.

████ ☾ : occasionally NSFW and triggering ( all tagged. )

████ ☾ : script through novella : icons and gifcons.

                                    home  ;  ask  ;  disclaimer  ;  about

[francisalberts]

Frank couldn’t hit her. He could yell at times. Mainly because his mood swings would occur or if an argument occurred it was a necessity but nevertheless, he could never hit Mae. Never push her or shove her. He couldn’t do that to his children either. He had three children. Three. He had never yelled at them because they were well behaved, and the only time he ever had was at his oldest child, his daughter, of whom, he had yelled at after she had said that someone looked Jewish. He was always strong with equality. He disliked prejudice. He hated racism. Homophobes. His motto was live and let live which he lived by. Yet he yelled for good reason. “Nicest touch? Outta all the fellas? I oughta have a medal for that.” Frank announced, as he had found himself to be letting his hands softly curve along her waist, her hips: she was soft. Gentle. “Or a crown.”

[fightxflight-blog]

Mae was raising Rosalie in what she deemed to be the best manner. Her daughter could believe in what she wanted, love who she wanted, do what she wanted; but if she were to hurt another human being, no matter the form, Mae would not tolerate it. Love took courage, and hate was easy. Mae wanted Rosie to work hard at what she wanted. She would hope to make her daughter a million times better than herself. That was the goal of having children, right? To make them grow up to be better than oneself? "I'm sure we have a dozen or so paper crowns and tiaras around here somewhere. I'll get on that tomorrow." She smiled, eyes closed. A contented sigh left her lips, and she kissed his shoulder.

[fightxflight-blog]

send me a ✿ and i’ll generate a number.

7: firm kiss

      Mae had found herself to adore the time she spent with Drover. She was a city girl, but she loved everything her and Drover did. She didn’t care about getting dirty much, and even talking to the boy while he worked was enjoyable. She discovered he wasn’t that much younger than her— but he still had this boyish look to him. Scruffy, almost. She admired it. He had the heart of a gentleman, which astounded her, considering the circumstances he had come from.

      Even more so, she had a weak spot for his horse. The most gorgeous horse she’d ever seen, and hell, Joey had manners. She discovered that she was becoming dependent on Joey and Drover; they’d only known her for a short while, but got along like old souls and laughed like sadness was only a passing trend.

      Watching Drover pull a brush over Joey’s coat, she watched in a trance as the horse’s skin shivered, tail swishing. It was nearly time for her to go. She did have work in the morning, as much as it pained her to leave. She slid down from her spot and ran a hand of Joey’s back as she went to stand next to Drover. “I’ll bring the photo album tomorrow. There aren’t many pictures of me, but if you insist on seeing them…” She smiled widely, pressing her hands on either side of his face.

      She reached up on the balls of her feet, pressing a firm but careful kiss to his lips. It didn’t have to be romantic. It didn’t have to be anything unless he wanted it to. She appreciated him. Enough so that she could trust him with her secrets. “Goodbye, Drover. Goodbye, Joey.” She hugged him quickly, grabbed her bag, and started walking towards her truck, the soft smile still there.

      Mae had friends.

[beanies-and-hats-deactivated201]