#( pls do not feel the need to match length )

[ungraceds]

it's   hard   to   be   around   him   ..   to   see   him   everywhere   and   it   shouldn't   be   .   it's   been   years   .   their   story   was   dead   and   gone   ,   the   book   now   collecting   dust   on   a   shelf   but   that   doesn't   mean   it   doesn't   hurt   to   reread   it   .   to   dabble   in   all   the   what   if's   ,   all   the   possibilities   if   she   hadn't   ended   things   so   abruptly   .   but   she   can   play   nice   ..   cordial   even   ,   and   say   all   the   right   things   exes   say to   each   other   .   whatever   they   may   be   .   can't   help   but   notice   when   he's   drawing   nearer   ,   heart   betraying   her   and   picking   up   pace   .   "   fine   ,   huh   ?"   brow   lifts   ,   stare   turning   scrutinizing   as   she   watches   him   .   "   seems   like   an   empty   adjective   to   describe   your   life   .   "   of   course   she's   heard   all   the   rumors   --   knew   of   his   relationship   drama   ,   the   fights   ,   all   of   it   .   it   still   leaves   a   sour   taste   in   her   mouth   that   while   she   tried   to   move   on   after   him   ,   she   failed   but   he   didn't   .   even   if   him   and   liz   aren't   on   good   terms   exactly   ,   he   still   loves   her   .   loves   her   in   a   way   that   she   loved   him   once   ,   too   .   pushes   thoughts   aside   and   offers   a   smile   ,   lips   wrapping   around   straw   to   wash   away   the   taste   on   her   tongue   .   "   so   i've   heard   ..   those   fists   of   yours   are   the   talk   of   the   town   .   but   i   still   think   you   were   good   back   in   high   school   ,   i   remember   you   knocking   a   few   lights   out   in   the   gymnasium   .   "   tone   is   teasing   ,   friendly   as   she   leans   against   the   rail   ,   too   ,   staring   up   at   him   .   "   college   was   long   ,   hard   .   had   to   start   working   at   a   club   to   pay   off   my   tuition   ,   "   strategically   leaves   out   the   type   of   club   ,   clearing   her   throat   as   she   shifts   from   one   foot   to   the   other   ,   "   but   it   paid   off   ,   i   guess   .   i   ..   don't   really   have   much   going   on   ,   honestly   .   working   ,   going   on   dates   ,   existing   ...   "   shrugs   ,   "   probably   no   different   than   the   girl   you   knew   back   then   .   "   back   before   shit   hit   the   fan   .

hues  glued  to  her  refrained  him  from  recognizing  silver  bracelet  ,  can’t  bring  himself  to  look  away  from  talia  even  as  he  stands  .  “  yeah  ,  no  worries  .  ”  the  corners  of  his  mouth  twitch  upwards  ,  offers  femme  a  small  grin  ,  even  as  digits  linger  a  second  or  two  longer  than  they  should’ve  .  mitch  pulls  his  hand  back  ,  his  seemingly  calm  demeanor  serving  as  a  contrast  to  what  went  on  in  his  head  ,  a  storm  of  thoughts  as  he  attempts  to  find  the  right  thing  to  say  ,  anything  that  would  give  him  the  excuse  to  s  t  a  y  a  little  longer  .  anything  to  talk  to  her  .  but  she  beats  him  to  just  that  ,  shifts  closer  as  he  ponders  on  the  answer  to  give  her  ,  his  elbow  now  perched  on  the  small  bar  .  “  things  are  fine  ,  ”  says  with  a  nod  .  it’s  a  lie  however  ,  doesn’t  want  to  bring  up  liz  ,  or  bore  her  with  the  drama  that  had  quite  literally  taken  over  his  life  .  he  wonders  if  she’d  heard  of  it  all  too  ,  the  relationship  ,  the  drama  with  gaia  ,  or  how  he’d  quite  literally  gotten  into  not  one  but  two  fights  with  legend  .  part  of  him  assumes  that  she  had  ,  but  he’d  rather  avoid  talking  about  it  all  with  talia  .  “  i  still  fight  ,  i’m  .  .  .  quite  good  at  it  now  actually  ,  nothing  like  how  i  was  back  in  high  school  .  ”  and  perhaps  he  means  it  in  more  ways  than  one  ,  sometimes  he  doesn’t  really  recognize  himself  .  “  and  you  ?  ”  he’s  curious  ,  wants  to  know  .  “  how  was  college  ?  how’s  everything  ?  ”

[elijahfalvey]

— LOCATION: The Labyrinth.

— CHARACTERS: Elijah & Dee ( @deexkaplan ).

Elijah could always tell when Leon was particularly bored, even when the grumpy barman who he’d consider one of his closest friends wasn’t around to torment him with his thoughts in person; his phone vibrated in his pocket so many damn times he felt nothing but compelled to answer, or at the very least check to make sure that it wasn’t something actually important. There were plenty of scenarios where glancing down at the device proved to be incredibly inconvenient, like when he was busy — which, not for nothing Leon, he quite often was — or like right now, when he was tucked away in a booth at the Labyrinth across from Dee, mindlessly chatting and sharing a few drinks. He’d agreed to come out with her in order to actually spend time with her, not to be distracted by the incessant buzzing of his phone. However, the frequency of notifications was becoming harder and harder to ignore by the minute. Regretfully interrupting her, he pulled the damn thing out from his clothes and said, “Sorry, Dee. Sorry, one second. Someone keeps fucking . . .” His tone teetered on light frustration as the brightness of the screen illuminated against his face in the dim lighting of the bar, and there it was: several new messages from ‘Leon Woz do not answer 💔’ staring back at him. He huffed out a breath and decidedly put off answering any of them, setting his phone to the side on the table they shared face-up. “It’s not important. Sorry — I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

His eyes found their way to Dee’s as the screen turned on again, and low and behold, ‘Leon Woz do not answer 💔’ was calling him. The impatient bastard.

[g1bsongirl]

𖤐⋆.˚  STATUS  ... open .ᐟ 𖤐⋆.˚  LOCATION  ... anywhere outside baybee .ᐟ

what was the saying — music on, world off ? certainly applied to iris. the girl was in a trance, fully encompassed by the ‘smooth’ sounds of 100 gecs frying her eardrums. one notch up and crimson would’ve no doubt dripped from her ears. a grimace contoured her features as soon as her playlist shuffled. who the hell snuck ‘sail’ by awolnation into her rotation ? before she could even hit next, the wheels of her rollerskates swept up from beneath her. blunt force caused her body to stumble back. looked like something out of a cartoon, had it been, a giant text would’ve appeared in a decorative bubble … ‘ boing ! ’ headphones lay beside her, the obnoxious beat blaring. perhaps the song was a warning sign ? should’ve listened. instead, she accepted defeat, laid there and took a gander at the sky. “ s’nice day — huh ? ” head tilted as she squinted, trying to catch a better glimpse without mutilating her pupils. “ is it just me or does that cloud look like billy the puppet ? ” wasn’t her first time falling and it certainly wouldn’t be her last. “ y’think you could spare me a hand ? ” she extended an arm out, fingers splayed, and offered a lax grin.

[thetorturedmusesdept]

@youllalwaysbemyporcelain Marie & Miguel

The crowd was still cheering as Marie and Miguel exited stage left, having just performed their duet Baby It's Cold Outside together at the Winter Market. Immediately, Marie got helped into her big fluffy, furry white coat by a member of the tech crew, who she thanked. Her heart was still thumping, racing hard in her chest from the adrenaline that always came with performing. Such a rush Marie always felt, every single time, and it only grew when the crowd cheered. She loved performing, truly loved it, and performing at Christmas time just felt even more magical.

She was grinning from ear to ear when she took Miguel's arm in her hands and leaned on his shoulder, walking with him to the dressing rooms. She giggled, sighing dreamily. "That was so fun, I can't wait to do it again. We absolutely should perform together more often. Our voices compliment each other, non?"

Luckily, the dressing rooms weren't far. As they walked closer to her door, Marie continued to gush about everything. "You are a natural on the stage, Miguel. This is so great, wasn't that amazing?" Again she asked a question without letting him answer before continuing on, now at her dressing room door. "You sounded so good, I cannot thank you enough for performing with me, monsieur." She turned to open her door and walked inside, turning back around to face him. She had her mouth opened to speak, but that was when she saw it.

The mistletoe hung just above her dressing room door... right above and in between Marie and Miguel. She had hung it there as an excuse to show affection through cheek kisses with those she liked or was close with, and more than that, she had a very romanticized fantasy of experiencing a real mistletoe kiss one day. Now.... it hung between her and her friend.... Miguel. Her eyes traveled from it to him, slowly, and she felt heat in her face as she blushed out of embarrassment. Did she just cheek kiss him like she normally would any other friend? Would that be awkward? They had gotten close in the short time they'd known each other, but would he feel awkward about sharing a kiss, even if just on the cheek? Would he want a real kiss?

Would she? "Sacre bleu... Of course, I uh-um, I forgot I put that there." She laughed a bit awkwardly, and casually shed her coat and tossed it aside as she tried to think of whether or not to go for a kiss - and what sort of kiss to make it. She tried to read Miguel, tried to feel for what he wanted. "Mistletoe... I mean, you know what they say, right...?"

[angelbenningflint]

who: open starter ( @eventidestarters ) where: district 13

The first weeks after the arrival of the folks from 8 and 12 had been hard. Most of them had lost everything. And Ángel who took pride in being able to cheer people up, was unable to do so. Not only because the loss they had suffered was so immense, but because he could barely get himself to leave his rooms. Their loss had reminded him of his own. His matching wound may have not been as fresh, may have protected itself with scar tissue, but it was there all the same. He found himself feeling much like the young boy he once was, trapped in a room for a much different reason. But eventually, after remembering all he had learned from the good doctor, he found himself able to face them, embarrassed at how long it took him to welcome the new members of 13 into the fold.

But as the weeks passed and that dark feeling seemed to no longer haunt the halls, Ángel began to love all the new life that had been injected right into the heart of 13. He could feel the fresh energy pumping through the veins of their concrete home. He loved talking to them, getting to know what it was like in the other districts, hear what their food tasted like, what traditions they held. He also loved showing them how they did things in 13. Their food might not be impressive, but their tech was, and as a tech supervisor, it was something else to watch them interact with it.

All that being said, for the most part, Ángel loved the new circumstances of 13. But, as someone who had lived alone for the past 7 years, suddenly having a roommate was...Something that made him want to stick a fork into an electrical socket.

"Oh for fucks sake," he cursed as he walked into the last hideout spot he had on his mental list, only to find it occupied. "Did everyone suddenly develop a rat like sense of being able to sniff out all the hidden nooks and crannies of this place?"

[wickedlvst]

closed for @hurtrite for this starter call // based on (x)

platinum hair shone brightly in warm candlelight, leaving the resemblance of a halo, as she took a few tentative steps towards the blonde giant of a man. with the eyes of both their clans upon her and her older brother’s gaze glaring daggers into her back to keep her moving, knowing all too well how she’d fought this alliance tooth and nail, it was impossible not to feel like the sacrificial lamb led to its slaughter. not that she couldn’t understand why her older brother had been pushing this marriage, all too determined to end the war that had already cost both of them their father in a brutal battle, leaving most of the men of their village incapacitated if not a mutilated corpse on a field drowning in blood. if it meant offering her up as a sacrificial offering to a merciless barbarian to avoid further bloodshed, not to mention the eradication of their people, he probably would have let them all fuck her one after the other right there on the battlefield. freya couldn’t even really blame him for this decision, instilled with an overwhelming sense of duty and loyalty for her people - even if she hadn’t been allowed to fight with them as so many other women of their village had. the jarl’s daughter was too precious a cargo to risk her getting hurt, too valuable of a bargaining ship. it hadn’t mattered to either her father or brother that she could fight as least half as well as some of their men, that she’d have rather faced the possibility of a brutal death out there with them as opposed to being left behind to imagine the worst, without being able to do anything to help.

but freya supposed it didn’t matter anymore. all she could do now was to hold her head high and make the best of an impossible situation. if it meant sleeping with a knife in her bed to keep her future husband from killing her in her sleep, so be it. only a fool would trust him to not try anything so cruel and she might be many things but a fool she was most certainly not, mind almost as cunning as that of the trickster god. she came to a stop only a few feet away from him, keeping her body with all her might from trembling at his intimidating presence. she was not going show any sign of weakness, refusing to act like the prey her family apparently considered her to be. forcing a smile onto her lips, she squared her shoulders, trying her best to make for her lack of height and overall fragility with a good posture. "i look forward to bringing our people together and setting an end to this war that's already cost too many lives", she opened the conversation, tone polite yet an attentive listener would easily notice the hint of an accusation behind them, obviously putting all of the blame for the bloodshed on him, "may the gods bless our connection."

[hcllishsins]

closed starter > ft. @veneror !! ( lucifer )

this version of hell was .. different . it felt more permanent than avernus . which , one could suppose it was . especially considering , you know , he died . his plan to take part in the rite of ascension failed , and instead , his bastard of a master managed to complete his ascension , sacrificing astarion in the process . the vampire wasn ' t entirely sure how long he ' d been in hell , since time passed different here . perhaps it had been a week ? maybe two ? at present , the elven vampire was crouched over his prey , his fangs sinking deep into the demon ' s flesh . as the rich , crimson blood flowed into his mouth , a rush of exhilaration washed over him , momentarily drowning out the screams of his victim . demonic blood tasted more bitter than that of someone who was alive . but .. even though he himself was dead , his hunger still remained , and it was even more ravenous than before . and so , he needed to feed . thankfully , even in the depths of hell , there was a twisted sense of satisfaction in the hunt . the scent of another flooded astarion ' s senses immediately , and he heard the slight footsteps that entered the mouth of the alley way . the hand that held the victim up immediately loosened and dropped the limp body . spinning on his heel , then came a harmonious giggle . a hand swiped over his mouth , clearing away any droplets of blood that may have stained his chin . " ah .. " he hummed , raising a both of his hands , palms facing the other . " it ' s not what it looks like .. well , actually .. it is EXACTLY what it looks like .. oops ? " then came another giggle , seemingly holding no remorse for almost killing the demon who now lay hunched on the ground .

[sterlingwhitvale]

who: @fatefought (ezra klair) where: d13 kitchens

It really wasn't fair for 5 year olds to have food allergies. They were young and stupid and unobservant. And his 5 year old had a tendency to passionately partake in conversation with whoever was at her table while eating, never paying attention to what she was shoving in her undiscerning mouth. And Sterling, had gotten lax. He was so used to himself, Cecelia, or their families preparing their meals and knowing of Satina's allergy, or being in the capitol where every meal was made to order and could be easily changed, that in all the changes of coming to 13, Sterling had forgotten to let someone know.

It was harder here, of course, all meals being prepared en masse for the large population, and he had no idea, really, on how to make it work. And he had stewed and stewed on it, almost to a ridiculous amount. Although, he had realized some hours in that thinking on something small, like a food allergy, was a great way to avoid thinking on the other, much larger, issues in his family's life at the moment. Notably, the increase every day of questions from his kids about their mother's whereabouts. He was running out of answers, and each day Jax looked at him more and more intensely. It was unnerving, his own eyes staring back at him in that way.

So he took his 30 minutes of 'reflection' time to make his way down to the kitchens, having finally figured out the best way to go about it would be on a small person to person sale, rather than a large one. --- He was surprised to see the man he had heard was practically the sole reason so many tributes had escaped the arena was present, working away in the kitchens, when Sterling had expected him to be elsewhere, in the training rooms, perhaps. "Ezra, right?" He knew better than to sneak up on someone who had been in the games, so he tried to make himself known as quickly as possible.

Sterling was not a loquacious man by nature, and having never spoken to the man before, it wasn't a tone he usually took with people he didn't know. But in a way, he felt as if he did know him. A man who joined the rebellion due to his love for a victor. It was his own story, as well. Perhaps the familiarity was undesired by the other party, but Sterling, having never needed any company other than his wife and his family, both the one he created and grew up in, found himself adrift as he had lost most of those and unsure if they'd ever be found. So, almost embarrassingly, he found himself reaching out.

"Blacksmith. Rebel. Cook. Anything not in your skill set?"

[giventakes]

closed for @sugarsmint​ / based on this

for what it’s worth, christian doesn’t usually end up in these kinds of situations, simply because he never bothers to. those — what the fuck do people call them— situationships are a waste of fucking time in his eyes, and even worse could be said for people in ‘talking stages’, whatever the fuck that really means.

but then he met them and — and it was like the best brand of love-hate at first sight. 

...or, rather, best brand of love-hate at first argument. he’s a weird one, christian. but if someone were to put money on it, his attraction to their consistent bickering (and flirting in his eyes) likely came from just appreciating someone else refusing to stand down on their opinions and wanting to have the last word, which—

feels a little perfectly timed, considering his entire presence is seemingly being ignored right now. he scowls, also perfectly timed in relation to his leaning his weight back onto the edge of the closest surface as his arms fold over his chest. “what? no witty remark? nothing clever to say?” christian scoffs, growing increasingly unimpressed. “i never thought i’d see the day when you actually went quiet. am i fucking dreaming? hallucinating, maybe?”

[vicit-vim-virtus]

Starter for @deaddoveadventures // Curumë

The city had been torn asunder, as if a gargantuan dragon had ploughed straight through it, pulverising every building, every wall, every single brick and pebble in its endeavour to reach the other end of the city; it had waded through the metropolis as if it had been a mere, knee-high lake. Except that the dragon hadn’t come in the form of an actual dragon, but in that of a legion of goblins and orcs, collaborating to maraud and deplete the city of its wealth and provisions. The devastation was everywhere one turned their head, there was no escaping it. Houses had crumbled and were nothing more but a pile of rubble, streets were buried under mountains of debris, and slowly dying fires, the only living vestiges of the violence that had transpired last night, were, ironically, the only sources of warmth left. The stench of blood and burning wood permeated the air. These last seven days, most denizens had either lost their abodes, lives, or both, and yet their solidarity had united them to tend to the injured and salvage whatever they could find to make their loss slightly more bearable.

The barbaric and monstrous assault had deprived the city of its colour and vigour in a week’s time; everything was etiolated, insipid and reeked of death and decay. Decades ago, when he’d been in the employment of his late father, he’d often traversed to this place, as a merchant to trade. The streets used to be filled with ebullient laughter, boisterous conversation, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted on the currents of a gentle breeze. Tall trees and exotic plants and flowers, vibrant and sweet, emblazoned the environment, adding to it a touch of nature and tranquility, making one forget that one was, in reality, encompassed by sturdy city walls, a rich assortment of architectural residences, and an enormous crowd of people thronging the roads and alleyways all day long. Now, none of that remained, not even a sliver; those images had been diminished to a mere evocation...

The road meandering up to Luran’s place of destination was impeded by rubble. They’d barely passed the disintegrated city gate when they had been forced to shed the carriage and continue on horseback. But even on their mounts, navigating the ruins proved to be a challenge. The beasts couldn’t find their footing, stumbled, fell, and snorted defiantly when spurs prodded their sides to coerce them over rock and treacherous terrain both rider and animal were cognisant of were unsound. Eventually, Luran dismounted and resumed his laborious journey on foot; the King’s knights, clad in their heavy, shining armour, trailed in his wake. Regardless of happening upon many civilians in need, none approached him — or any of the soldiers — to ask for aid. Presumably because they thought the King’s knights and his emissary weren’t here for them, and therefore, would never assist them. And they were correct. Luran had been sent to discuss financial affairs, among others, with the archbishop who governed the city. The King had no interest in supporting the victims, to alleviate their hardships, their suffering; he was only concerned with the archbishop and how the religious leader would compensate for the loss of gold and other riches.

The cold and desperation, which haunted him outside, were chased from his bones now that he was standing in the archbiship’s warm and luxurious office. Perhaps office wouldn’t do the room justice, atrium would be more apt. Paintings and frescoes adorned the walls and ceiling. Columns and statues were situated on either side of the cavernous hall, and a grand oval table with intricate carvings in its mahogany surface, stood in its centre. Several tall, arched windows, their frames embellished with heavy, gold and burgundy curtains, offered a view over the ravaged city — once a magnificent spectacle to behold, no doubt, but now, just a sad reminder of what was. The cathedral was still surprisingly intact after the bombardment of blazing boulders that had laid waste to the rest of the city. Granted, there were some dents blemishing its walls and a meagre layer of dust veiled its interior, but other than that, the House of the Goddess had remained unscathed. The advisor scribbled a mental note to himself to apprise the King of this particularly odd phenomenon...

While the archbishop rambled on about last week’s events and how tragic and pointless the loss of life was and how it affected him so, Luran stood, composedly, beside a slender window, his countenance averted from the other elf, hands clasped neatly behind his back. He regarded the people below, mere specs from his vantage point. He detested travelling, especially for long periods of time... He preferred the comfort and safety of home, and couldn’t wait to return. Alas, there were pressing matters to attend to.

The conversation that ensued was tedious, and throughout the ordeal, Luran felt an aura of insincerity, dishonesty radiating off of the archbishop. His words of sorrow, grief and loss did not reflect in his eyes. His histrionic comportment, his charade, was rather impertinent, especially when taking all the dead denizens into account. The King had found in this elf a kindred spirit: neither cared about their subjects, both were corrupt, blinded by power, greed and wealth and would go to any extreme to procure it... Repulsive...

Many hours sidled past in this fashion, before they were interrupted by the archbishop’s guards. Half a dozen came marching in, following their captain. Two guards escorted a man, digging the fingers of their iron gauntlets into his upper arms. The captain, herself, held some sort of artifact or statue in her arms — Luran couldn’t quite determine its nature from where he was positioned, but clearly, it did not belong to the... trespasser... thief...

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ the archbishop demanded irritably, gesturing to the scene that was now unfolding before his very eyes.

‘Your Grace. Advisor. My sincere apologies for the intrusion, but we caught this thief red-handed, stealing. The idol of the Goddess was in his possession,’ the captain explained pragmatically, shooting the thief a nasty glare.

Luran’s sapphire blue eyes oscillated between the archbishop and the captain; the archbishop suddenly appeared rather... perturbed. It was remarkable how his people being massacred had a less emotionally detrimental effect on him than some law offender nicking a stone artifact. However, had the advisor been familiar with the power harnessed within the idol, he would’ve understood the apprehension. The deceptively simplistic artifact allowed anyone attuned to it, to enthrall the masses and keep them subservient, obedient, as meek as a flock of gullible lambs raised for slaughter.

‘This man shall be punished for his crimes,’ the archbishop said, hastily taking the idol from the captain. ‘Throw him in the dungeons!’

‘The dungeons were obliterated, Your Grace,’ the captain commented resolutely.

A sigh of exasperation brushed past the archbishop’s lips, which elicited a flinch from the captain. Back at the palace, Luran had witnessed similar reactions manifesting in the royal guards whenever they were met with the King’s displeasure. And while the archbishop embarked on a tirade, Luran contemplated how he could be of service. His gaze swept over to the thief, scrutinising him for the first time.

‘We could take him back with us, to the City — he can stand trial there,’ Luran eventually suggested, his euphonious voice calm and collected, yet his eyes were cold and trained, unblinking, on the miscreant. ‘I’m fairly certain they’ve got a cosy prison cell left to temporarily accommodate this malefactor, until his fate has been decided...’

[thegcngg]

@nadinehunt / continued.

dennis was thankful that nadine had agreed to help him at the bar tonight. he had no idea what else he would have done. busy nights are few and far between, and of course it would be a busy night when he was supposed to work alone. but nadine was there, and that was good ... for more than just having an extra pair of hands around the bar. spending time with them was ... nice. comforting in an odd way, and dennis wasn't really sure how to classify it. so he wouldn't. he'd stuff it away like he did with basically every emotion and hope that the box wouldn't overflow. to his misfortune the box was overflowing, and whatever his feelings were towards nadine seemed to keep growing. maybe he shouldn't have asked for their help, because seeing them smiling and chatting with customers made him feel ... well ... it made him want to smile. it made him want to walk right over to them and grab them, kiss them. shit, this wasn't good.

and once they were alone in the bar, well ... dennis decided fuck it. they would have to address whatever the fuck was going on between them at some point. so when he has to run to the office to count the cash they earned throughout the evening, he decides to press a quick kiss to their cheek as he passes by. a simple act of affection, nothing more or nothing less. no ulterior motive, just a way to express how he was feeling ( something he was so painfully unfamiliar with ). and once he's in the office he closes the door, and presses his back to it. hands raise, moving to run over his face. 'what the fuck are you doing, dennis ??' he whispers to himself, letting out a sigh as his hands drop, tilting his head back to rest at the door for a moment. he stands there for a while, letting the thoughts dance around in his head before he finally pries himself off the wood, quickly counting the cash and heading back out into the bar.

brows raise as they speak, clearing his throat. "yeah ... yeah. counted the cash from the night. shit, we haven't made this much money in a long time. thanks uh ... for your help." and he stands there for a moment, just kind of staring at them and not really saying anything. he knows what he wants to say, but he's not sure if he has the courage to do it. hand raises to point at the spot he was standing in a few moments ago, when he had kissed them. "was that like ... too much ??" he asks quietly, sensing their awkwardness. ( he's afraid that he already knows the answer to the question ).

[fanflames]

"S - Sorry! Didn't mean to stare..." (Awkward Kiana noises as she meets a Fox Girl)

AN EXPECTED LETTER, for @stalwartembers .

        another day,  another planet.  she swore that these long travels would never stop being exhausting.  something about traveling via starskiff seemed to sap all the life out of her.  tingyun wondered if perhaps another means of transportation,  like a train or a ship,  would be more pleasant.  her fan flipped open just in time to conceal another yawn as she walked along the roads of this new world.  goodness,  she was tired today.  thankfully the matters of trade and commerce had already been dealt with in the morning.  now,  her priority was finding some place with proper tea.

        phone in hand,  tingyun scrolled through the applications in an attempt to look up nearby shops.  it was just her luck that her device wasn't yet synced to this world's broadband.  ugh.  another thing to deal with.  she looked up from her phone with a soft sigh,  looking onward to the buildings ahead.  just to the side,  she caught the gaze of a girl who quickly scrambled to apologize.

        "  s-sorry!  didn't mean to stare  …  "  she said,  evidently ashamed of being caught in the act of gawking.  tingyun was more than used to the stares-  most places she visited had never even heard of foxians.  it was the frantic,  awkward response that caught her attention.  how cute.

        "  please,  don't apologize.  it's no bother.  "  she gave her a smile in an attempt to soothe the girl's worries.  "  actually  …  while i have you here,  do you mind if i ask you a question?  —oh!  my apologies,  i haven't even introduced myself and i've already tried asking something of you.  my name is tingyun.  and your's?  "  she bowed her head in greeting.  names first,  tea shop later.

[luvyeni]

🧸… ( drabble ) i like it ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 한지성 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ you really love jisungs mustache ヾ

boyfriend!hanji・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・oral ( M ), unprotected sex, soft sex wc ・ ‎0.7k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. just saw han jisung's photo... a photo where he is unshaven and his mustache and beard are visible , and i wanted to request when he doesnt shave and the reader sees it for the first time, it unexpectedly makes her turn on. I wonder what jisung's reaction will be when he notices this.

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 im a huge fan of that genre of han jisung 🥴

you and han had been dating for about a year; so you two were comfortable with each other having keys and walking into each others apartments unannounced — so when you walked into your boyfriend's room where he was sitting at his desk recording, you didn’t think anything of it until he jumped in shock. “baby.”

he stumbled over his words, you raised your eyebrow. ”what are you doing here?” you dropped your bag on the floor. “it’s been a week since i’ve seen you and that’s the first thing you say?” he stood up, rushing over to you. “no baby i'm happy you’re here.” he wrapped his arms around you. “but you should’ve told me, i would’ve cleaned up a bit.” he looked around his room embarrassed. “and shaved, i look so disheveled.”

you pulled away looking at his bare face; you’d never seen him not shaved, his light stubble on his chin and upper lip — he looked good. “damn.” you said bringing your hand to his face. “you look good baby.” he blushed, smiling. “stop it.” he said shyly. “you don’t have to lie.”

“but i'm not hannie, you look so fucking good right now.” you ran your hands down his chest, chewing on your bottom lip. you loved your man no matter what and he never failed to turn you on… but this look on him, it was doing something for you. “do-don’t tell me you're getting turned on just by my mustache.” he stuttered out, flustered at the quick change in moods, not that he was upset about it. “how about i show you?” you brushed your lips against his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

jisung gripped the sheets, his head resting against the headboard. “fuck!” he moaned out for the third time that night — your mouth working on his cock, head bobbing up and down, hands wrapped around his length stroking whatever he couldn’t fit. “fu-fuck baby , keep doing that.” he’d never seen you act like this before, of course you sucked him off countless of times before, but not like this. with so much passion — like you were trying to suck the soul out of him. “fuck baby im gonna cum again.” sweat beading down his face as you pulled off of him, making a ‘pop’ sound with your mouth, still stroking him off. “cum for me, cum.”

he grunted , hips bucking up; his cock twitching. “fuck.” he sighed as he came, his thick cum shooting from his cock for the third time, leaking down onto your hand. “damn baby.” he chuckled breathlessly, his eyelids half closed. “hannie.” you climbed into his lap, his eyes opening as he felt the warmth of your cunt. “again?” you nodding, stroking his length. “you’re so hot.” you moaned out as you sunk down on him. “fuck baby you-you’ve already made me cum three times, let me at least eat you out.” you shook your head, fully sitting down on him. “n-no need you -fuck- need you inside me.”

rocking your hips slowly against him. “fuck you’re so wet.” he groaned, hands resting on your hips. “sh-shit keep riding my cock , just like that.” he moaned out loud as you bounced on his cock. “fu-fuck if you like my stubble like that , i’ll keep it if you it gets to fuck.” you both moaned out. “fuck if it gets you to fuck me like this.”

he could feel himself about to cum, bringing his hands to your clit , rubbing soft circles on your bud. “wa-wanna make you cum.” he moaned. “pl-please, pl-please make me cum.” bucking his hips up to match your movements. “fuck hannie im gonna cum.” you screamed, he wrapped his arms around your waist, planting his feet on the bed fucking up into you, you shrieked out. “fuuuck!” he groaned. “fuck baby im gonna cum.”

“fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed out, legs shaking as you came, tightening around him. “shit.” he howled out, cumming. “shit.” his legs fell flat against the bed, twitching as his thick load spilling inside you. “shit.” both of you sighed coming down from your high. “jesus love.” he finally got the words out, you laughed. “what.” your foreheads pressed against each others. “did the beard really make you like this?” you nodded, heat rising in your face. “i never knew beards turned me on like that.” you slowly stood up, letting his cock slipping out of you. “shit.”

sitting down on him, rubbing his bare chest. “fuck it’s so attractive.” you said, heat pooling in your abdomen once again. “you’re insatiable baby.”

“but fuck it’s hot seeing you like this, guess i gotta keep the beard for a while, if it gets you to fuck me like this.”

©️LUVYENI

[fyrewalks]

It's a bad idea, he thinks when he catches Hangman's eye across the Hard Deck and there's a sparkle of something more. It's a bad idea, he thinks when they're quiet in the backseat of the uber, neither wanting to ruin the anticipation with pointless small talk. It's a bad idea, he thinks when his fingers start on the buttons of Seresin's annoyingly tight button-up once safely inside his temporary accommodation - except then Seresin's, Jake's, tongue is down his throat, and really, Bob isn't thinking at all, anymore.

As he's lying there, sweaty and sated, half drowsing, Jake's arm across his belly like he simply forgot Bob's there and is too tired to adjust, it's easy to rationalize the gravity of the situation away. Tomorrow, they'll all scatter back to their postings as if the detachment never happened. He'll go back to the Eagles, Jake to the Vigilantes; they didn't cross paths before at Lemoore, and there's no reason for them to now.

Bob is no stranger to one-night stands, temporary bits of fun. He knows the routine, but when caught attempting to make a quiet exit the next morning, he can't muster up the usual excuses or goodbyes. What's he supposed to say - thanks for the fuck, see you never?

Except, as it turns out, whatever rational thinking he employed that night, wasn't all that thought out. Back with the Eagles, it's harder to avoid Hangman than he assumed. Bob dodges him in hangars, at bars and hangouts Nat dutifully drags him out to. He absolutely does not think about how Jake kisses, or moves, or the way he tastes. Absolutely not. And just when Bob thinks he's got a handle on the worst of his intrusive, betraying thoughts, the orders come - they're all being recalled to Top Gun for the official formation of the Dagger Squad in a month's time.

A week into tense briefings, all of them frustrated and annoyed by the endless paperwork and ground time, Bob thinks himself foolish to think he struggled at all in Lemoore. At least then, Hangman had given him a wide berth too. Now, often stuck in the same room for hours at a time, Hangman's usual taunts feel sharper. If anyone's caught on to how he's singled Bob out, no one voices their suspicions. At one point he worries Natasha's caught on to something, but when she raises her eyebrows at Bob, he mutters something about Hangman being Hangman and that seems to satisfy any curiosity.

And then, Bob has the misfortune of finding himself alone in the locker room after a few miles on the treadmill. If the way Hangman corners him is any indication, he'd guess it's purposeful. Bob very carefully keeps his eyes on the next set of lockers, just to the right of Hangman's face.

"What - miss an insult or two in the classroom," he snarks, surprising himself. Admittedly, it's a little easier when Natasha is in the cockpit with him. Bob takes a breath, his eyes flicking to Hangman's eyes, his lips. Bob refocuses his gaze. "Don't you think it's a little obvious?" If it's not curiosity, it'll be a joke - one that skirts too close to the truth. After all, navy pilots are known for their crude humor. Bob knows himself; he'll struggle to shrug it off. // @a1truist

[gh0stsp1d3r]

don’t waste a drop

warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest (brother- younger sister), breeding kink, no plot only smut,

A/n: someone match my freak pls… also writing incest is new to me, LMFAOO. Step-cest i can do, incest… a bit tricker. not too sure if i used the high Valyrian right but whatevs idc atp

MASTERLIST

He pinned your wrists over your head, looking down at you, his curly hair fallen over his face with the noises falling out of your mouth egging him on.

His hands then went to intertwine with yours, a soft smile appearing on your face at the intimacy of it all, a stark contrast to his hard and deep thrusts. He found himself looking down where you both were connected. One hand left yours and moved down, his hand going to your clit.

He rubbed on the button, his fingers knowing exactly how to make you cum. And with your mother none the wiser about the relationship, he slapped his hand over your mouth when you threatened to cry out his name. He leaned down, whispering.

“I know, hāedar, know.” He mumbled, his soothing voice having you clench down onto his length. “Cum for me.”

That was all the conformation you needed for that pressure in your stomach to release, your juices soaking his cock. He let out a low groan, his head lolling back as he began to paint your walls, you feeling his hot seed shoot inside you.

You both panted, his cock softening when he pulled back out. He watched his seed slowly leave your hole. He gathered all of it on his hand, shoving a finger into you, making you gasp at the sudden, unexpected intrusion from your brother.

“Don’t waste a drop, okay?” He murmured in your ear, you whining and nodding against his shoulder. You wouldn’t dream of it.

hāedar- younger/little sister

[buryeden]

Alive. Thayer isn't quite sure if he can claim it, if he aligns to that condition anymore. What concerns him even more is how to explain that the witch who had been his undoing had always been his salvation— a survival that had become an endurance with each consequence of cheating death. He wants to tell her everything as if he could make a single sound and she'd understand, but nothing comes out but a heavy sigh. For a moment, Thayer gives into old habits and she takes away the breath he doesn't even need.

"I don't know," He mustered, a shake of his head before he can find the words to just scrape the surface of what he wants to tell her— needs to tell her. "I thought I should see it for myself, what my father's turned all of this into. It was in vain— I'm sorry. Everything I've done has been in vain. I should leave before they close the gates and I should not have risked your well being for such selfishness." But he can't bring himself to part from her, his arm around her waist still holding her close. The smell of her hair and the feel of her cloak under his palm is nothing compared to such a delicate touch from her fingertips that holds his face like he will break if he is real, or fall away from her if he is not. He wonders it, too, if this return is just wishful thinking for a sleep that had finally come after all these years.

"Do you promise me you are alright?" He asked her. "I know what he has done to all his subjects, even those closest to him. Tell me he has spared you if he hasn't at least continued to trust you all. If I corrupted that by our friendship so long ago, tell me it has not played out with such violence."

"We're fine..." The words came out as whispers. She was so confused. All rumours pointed to him being dead, yet he was standing in front of her. Embracing her. "My father is fine. But Thayer..." She reached out, hand gently ghosting over his cheek. Eyes took in every bit of him. How time had changed them both, but she could still see remnants of the boy she loved in his eyes.

"How are you alive?" The woman asked. "We heard she...we thought the witch killed you..." Ophelia was quick to correct herself. The confusing feelings within her left hed uneasy. Should she hate him, for being a traitor as everyone said? Or should she embrace a friend....a love she thought was long gone?

"Why are you back here? Someone could see you."