#MY BOY FAST ASF

[niillusions]

(I'm posting a lot, I'm sorry-)

I saw a old tumblr post and saw this pic:

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DODGED THE POLE??? I THOUGHT HE GOT SMACKED AND FALL ON HIS ASS.

HOW DID I MISS THIS?? IVE WATCHED THIS MOVIE MAYBE 5 TIMES. IM LAUGHING, HE LOOKS SO GOOFY. (I rewatched the scene just now and got those screenshots)

[fridayplanet]

If I die remember my Tumblr legacy

[macheriee]

𝒜pocalypse ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⌗ everyone knew the boy’s father was lord commander of the city watch, that much was apparent. to your mother he was another insult to the throne, to you he was just the bastard, until he wasn’t.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tags enemies to lovers, hate-fucking kinda, aunt-nephew incest, targaryen-hightower!reader, TW: dub-con (oc struggles w/ accepting she got the hots for jace) call it horny guilt lmao but the first encounter is very much dubious but she gives in, lust at first sight, domesticity, fingering, pussy-eating, jace is low-key a simp/sub, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, impact play(?), breeding kinks cause it’s HOTD, rough sex, oc is mean asf at first, happy but angsty ending, light to medium angst, pregnancy mention, kinda canon it lowkey follows ssn 2 n some of 1 but not by a lottt (ex. mentioned scenes/flashbacks), oc n jace have been aged up (20), tweaked a few things to make sense so not completely canon, slow-burn ish but then it’s just fast burn lmao, curly-headed!jace 4ever, TW: oc has a panic attack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count 10.7k

your lips my lips, apocalypse..

“Bastards,”

You’ve heard the strange term tumble from your mother and grandsire’s lips the day king Viserys brought forth princess Rhaenyra’s children. They each stood mockingly with their dark unruly curls and equally colored eyes, an uncanny resemblance to the city watch commander.

The truth of it was they were no true Velaryon, nor Targaryen—but a Strong. You wondered if Rhaenyra felt shame the way they came out with their plain features, mayhaps not as your mother said the princess was as stubborn as her dragon mount.

From the start Jacaerys was an aggravating little thing to look at as children when you both clung to your mother’s skirts. His eyes were filled with curiosity as were yours before Alicent found herself shielding you from his sight like she was afraid he’d sully you.

It was clear she had zero desire for her children to associate with Rhaenyra’s much to the king’s dismay (but when has father ever cared?) Your mother hardly kept you out of her sight and if it wasn’t her you were accompanied by your siblings, a handmaid, or Cole.

You never lacked in needing “friends” and grew fine without their company as you had Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. Occasionally you saw Jacaerys and his brother running about like little savages in the halls but you’re pulled away by a Septa just short of crossing paths.

Jacaerys was the one who intrigued you the most. It might have been age but you didn’t understand why it was so bad? What had Jacaerys done for your mother to forbid you from speaking with him? He was a bastard, yes, but what did it exactly have to do with you?

Jace—Jacaerys, wasn’t a threat. You had no throne nor a title of some sorts to claim; there was nothing to your name, so why?

As children during joint lessons there were timid but not so secret glances exchanged. Mostly curiosity but it was something both Cole and your brothers disapproved of, especially Aemond who had come to Helaena’s chambers angry after a lesson in the dragon pits with Aegon and Rhaenyra’s sons.

Eventually they left for Dragonstone, never to be seen again until a day before your tenth name day when you’re called to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral. Why you were called upon such a thing you don’t know, nor care really as you hadn’t known the lady much.

The entire event was a waste—your brother was maimed, the king being the king chose his eldest’s side and the family further divided. Alicent wept and mourned Aemond as Rhaenyra’s bastards would have your brother’s eye. You looked at Jacaerys in anger, resentment, and frustration.

Who was responsible, you don’t care, what angered you was the fact that they paraded their entitlement so freely and shamelessly. Rhaenyra could have outright said she wanted Aemond’s head and your father would still find a way to make excuses for her. (Maybe even give her what she wanted.)

That was the last you ever saw of him before leaving for Kings Landing to resume life without them. You found it much more enjoyable without your half-sister and her family around, in fact you’d rather it stay that way forever.

On occasion you found yourself thinking of your nephew. The memories clung to the walls leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, one in particular haunting:

You and the king stood together atop the balcony watching as Ser Cole trained with the princes—including Rhaenyra’s sons. It was clear Cole favored your brothers evident in the way he praised one side but barked orders (or completely ignored) at the other.

“They’ll make fearsome knights, don’t you think?” Your father turns to you with a gentle smile, his tone warm but distant.

“Possibly, if Aegon ever decides to leave his cups.” You fall into silence shortly after.

You never knew what to say to your father having been so distant and neglected it felt like you didn’t know him at all. You tolerated him at best and affection was out of the question leaving you with nothing, just mere acquaintances.

The king chuckles quietly and his mouth parts to speak with his Hand but Jacaerys interrupts with his angry cry as he charges forward at Aegon. Your lips part in surprise and out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Harwin circling, watching.

Aegon uses the straw dummy to avoid Jacaerys. He’s quick to corner the smaller, kicking Jacaerys down in the process.

“Don’t let him get up.” Cole barks which spurs the commander into action.

You watch in amusement as Cole is beaten to a bloody pulp by the bastard’s father. The king turns with concern, given this was no sight for a lady, “Why don’t you go and see if your mother needs something, perhaps your sister?”

You bow in courtesy, escorted away by your sworn shield but your mother’s apartments aren’t the place you’ll be going, no, you want to watch this mess play out a little longer.

“I wish to see my brothers.” You command softly, already walking towards the training grounds even if your knight was willing or not.

They’re pulling Harwin off when you step foot outside, Jacaerys and his brother huddle close while your older brother in particular looks both amused and bored of the entire ordeal already. No doubt still pissy about being grabbed and promptly scolded by the king (‘Aegon!’) .

“Sister,” Aemond greets once you’ve joined him and Aegon.

“How were your lessons?” You quietly fuss over his messy tunic whilst checking for any bruising or cuts on his face, thankfully none.

Aemond responds in kind with Aegon loudly interrupting but you ignore him and his poor manners. You can’t help the way your eyes flit over him and his brother from across the yard, your gaze scrutinizing and judgemental like your queen mother often wore when she expressed her displeasure.

The little bastard actually rises to the challenge. “Jace!” You turn in time to see him advancing quickly, expression full of anger and accusation.

“Is there something you have to say?” Jacaerys glares.

You look over your shoulder with a cool expression, “I don’t have anything to say, what makes you think that?” It’s agitating having to explain yourself to him of all people.

“Because you look like you have something to say, so say it!” It’s comical the way his cheeks and entire face glow red from anger.

You slowly turned to Jacaerys with folded hands placed politely over your front (as the Septa and your mother taught you), “I was merely talking about how Strong the two of you were out here.”

This immediately draws the attention of Ser Harwin. His face easily betrays his emotions but you simply smile at the commander, “It’s a good thing they have the city watch commander to guide them, isn’t it?”

Challenging little cunt you were, Harwin forces a tight smile, “Indeed, princess.”

He doesn’t get to stay much longer as the guards begin pushing him in the direction of the castle, away from his two Strong boys. You were going to wipe the smug face off that bastard–

Aegon shoves Jacaerys first into the dirt, sending the poor boy flying back as Lucerys panics calling out for him. Lucerys charges with a wooden stick in hand, his face twisted in anger and fear as he swings for Aegon, “Let my brother go!”

You scoff and stick your foot out, tripping the boy as you swiftly place a foot over his back pressing down, “Dohaerās!”

You put more pressure with each passing second he squirmed and cried. “Get off of him!” Jacaerys shoves Aegon off and runs at you, pushing past Aemond knocking him down too in the process.

You turn in time to see a head full of dark curls charging, your father yelling for everyone to put an end to this nonsense. “Or what? You’re going to run to mommy and tell her what I said?”

He stops dead in his tracks when you stalk towards him with a predatory look in your eye, “What’s wrong? Not strong now are you?” You shove him harder, causing him to stumble over the wooden sword, “Better yet, why don’t you call for your father to come save you?”

Harwin stills by the doors and the entire yard grows silent. Jacaerys clenches his fists tightly, “Ser Laenor isn’t here.” He grits.

You lean closer, eyes meeting Ser Harwin’s over Jacaerys’ shoulder, “Is he?”

The ‘Velaryon’ stiffens and you can’t hide your grin, “I was merely joking, relax.” You finish softly pulling away.

Aemond is there holding his elbow out for you to take, the two of you (Aegon included) disappear into the castle passing by the commander. Aemond himself shoots Harwin a look before uttering loud and clear:

“Bastards.” No one corrects him.

You remember the outrage you and your brothers caused with Rhaenyra. She demanded justice—especially towards you after learning you pushed her Luke to the ground and commanded him like an animal. She pushed for a harsh punishment, hell-bent on it.

Alicent, who usually was spoken over by her husband and every other man in her life, for once refused. Your mother made sure of it that no one, not even the king, was to touch or harm you, fiercely defending you against your half-sister.

‘Over words? You wish to have my daughter flogged over an insult?’

Needless to say your mother had the last say after some unsavory words and threats were exchanged in the council room. As Rhaenyra passed you met her eyes briefly before Alicent covered you with her own body.

They left like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. You, Aegon, and Aemond stood over a balcony watching the ships sail and dragons pass overhead. It was as if they were never there to begin with.

It wasn’t always unpleasant you suppose but with age you slowly begin caring and thinking less and less about those Strong boys.

༺ ──────────── ༻

“There’s to be a petition in court.” Your mother solemnly mumbles from her place by the open windows, she’s in one of her moods again and you wish no part of it. Was it Aegon who went and managed to piss her off for the umpteenth time?

You barely look up from the embroidery you’re working on (it’s a beetle for Helaena who has been feeling blue these days), “A petition for what?”

Alicent turns to you with a melancholic look on her face, she’s smiling but it falls short and her somber mood once again returns. “Nothing of importance my sweetling.” She lifts her skirts to take a seat beside you on the floor, “What are you working on?”

“A beetle, for Helaena.” As you’re showing her the doors to your rooms open and a handmaiden stands by with a soft ‘Prince Aemond, your grace,’

“Mother, y/n.” Aemond greets as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, leg crossed over his other. “For Helaena?” He murmurs, leaning down to get a better look.

You speak amongst quiet whispers while Alicent watches, content to see her two children together. “Mother, the petition does it have anything to do with Rhaenyra and her sons?”

Aemond, who had taken the embroidery to try for himself, stops in his tracks. Alicent feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially not with you two being so perceptive all the time. Her prolonged silence was enough answer anyway.

“Yes,” she finally relents, “Lord Corlys’ younger brother wishes to challenge Lucerys’ claim for Driftwood.”

Her tone is hesitant and careful, she looks at Aemond when she says his name. She’s treading carefully with her third born knowing he was particularly sensitive when he got angry.

“By extension the rest of her I presume?” You reach for a lemon cake mumbling to Aemond (‘Share one with me… I said to split it, not have it all.’—‘I did.’)

With the king bed-ridden nearing death and his first born off at Dragonstone, there was no need to hold your tongue. “Her claim will be questioned, as will her first born and second,” Aemond adds.

“I worry sometimes,” Alicent finally says, silence following, “for you, Helaena, Aegon—the children.” You know exactly what she means to tell.

“I do believe Helaena has been in need of some company. You may leave me, I have Aemond.” You reach for her hands and gently squeeze, “I will catch up with you two, yes?”

Alicent studies your face in worry before settling on brushing a few stray hairs out of your face, “Alright, I will see you.” She lays a gentle kiss over your head and rises to her feet.

Once the doors slam shut you finally release the sigh you’ve held in through the entire conversation with half a mind to ask for a bath to soothe your oncoming headache. “Seems our dear nephews will be arriving on the morrow.” He comments.

“Hm, seems so.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel, are you supposed to feel anything?

Things were different now you suppose, your hatred died down over the years without their insulting presence. You didn’t like them either, merely tolerated the idea of them.

Then there was the great Jacaerys Velaryon, future of the realm and heir to the throne, the same boy who plagued your dreams and memories all these years.

And he was to be here tomorrow, the first since Lady Laena’s funeral (which you had believed to be the last time you would ever have to see him).

“You’re free to speak plainly sister, we’re in private, we don't have to keep pretending.” Aemond mutters, head lolling in your direction as he stares at you.

You tilt your head, “And what would you have me say? That I’m looking forward to their little visit?”

“What excuse will it be this time? I don’t think she can easily sway the people with the evidence right there in plain sight,” he hums.

The more you think about her and her children coming here into your home tainting it all over again—you grow furious.

“Help me up will you? I think I’ll take a bath and meet you with mother.” You hope it will be enough to curb your anger for now.

Aemond holds you upright and levels you with a stare, “Something’s bothering you.”

“Well, yes–”

“Not them.” Aemond replies quietly and for a second you still.

You gently stroke the side of his face, watching as Aemond leans into your touch with a closed eye, “I’m fine,” you murmur, “now go.”

Luckily Aemond’s just as sweet on you and Helaena as he is stubborn and observant. He lets it go (thankfully) and you’re left alone to think about tomorrow. You could easily feign sickness or escape to the Sept (you were due for a prayer anyways) but mother would never let you as much as she would like to—your grandsire’s word evidently still strong over her.

You soak in the boiling hot tub, enjoying the steam delicate scents from the oils you regularly use. “That’s a problem for another day,” you find yourself murmuring to no one in particular as you sink further into the tub, eyes slipping shut.

༺ ──────────── ༻

You had done your best to carry on with your duties the following morning.

Nearly an hour had passed since you sat around staring at your reflection instead of allowing the handmaids to dress you. By this hour you’d be with your mother and Helaena in the gardens. Your absence however prompts the queen to come searching.

“What’s wrong?” Alicent whispers sitting beside you on the bed with worry etched on her brow as she gently moves your hair from your shoulder, “y/n?”

You place your hand over hers, “Braid my hair, like when I was child?” You hold the brush out for her to take.

She has you sit on the floor in front of her, gently combing the hair brush through your soft locks handling each strand of hair with care. The two of you fall into comfortable silence (save for her soft humming). All of your frustrations quickly lift off your shoulders the more you sink into her gentle caring touch.

“The dress is beautiful, when did you have this tailored?” Alicent comments softly, it was no secret to anyone that she saw herself in her youngest daughter—dutiful, composed, a good daughter.

The only difference was you had freedom she never did. While she had been made a child bride by her own father, you remained an unwed maiden at the age of twenty by choice. Alicent didn’t push for proposals and Otto knew better than to try and meddle with you like he had with Aegon and Helaena.

(‘Aemond had it made for me, Helaena has one in blue.’—‘The fabric, I don’t believe we have that around here do we?’) Your doors open and your drunken (maybe hungover) brother comes stumbling gracelessly.

“Well don’t you look darling.” He comments under his breath and saunters over to where you sit, falling flat on his back with his head in your lap.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns as she starts on another braid.

You look down and flick his forehead, “You smell of wine, and you're going to dirty my dress.” Despite the annoyance you still comb your fingers through his hair affectionately.

Aegon snorts unceremoniously, “Is it a crime to visit my sister now? My very beautiful sister—do say, when are you going to choose a husband? You’re past the age, and well nearly every lord in the realm’s been asking for your hand.” He smirks slyly knowing very well the topic of marriage angered the shit out of you.

“Aegon that’s enough, stop pestering your sister.” Alicent sighs heavily.

Your eyes flick over to the wine pitcher in your maid’s hands, the threat clear. A harmless grin forms on his face, one you can’t help but mirror teasingly as the two of you settle in silence as to not disturb your mother with children’s banter. You left that for your niece and nephew to do.

“There,” Alicent shows you through the mirror, “do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you.” You leaned back to lay in her lap.

Normally she would frown at receiving such affections but because it was you she held her tongue, never truly bothered by any of it. She allows it for a little longer before gently patting your shoulder.

“I must go and see to it that preparations for our guests are going well my sweetlings. I will see you in court later.” She departs hastily.

“Have you eaten?” You ask Aegon, who shakes his head as you rise to your feet together, “I haven’t either.”

Rhaenys and her granddaughter are the first to arrive on dragonback, and then your dear half-sister with her entourage of children and Daemon.

‘Ha, so they really did it,’ Lady Laena hadn’t been dead for a week and these two had already frolicked around (the night at Driftmark, you’re sure the two figures on the beach were them).

No one had been there to receive them—you certainly didn’t bother, you doubt any of your siblings would. You’re outside in the yard watching Criston Cole train with Aemond again, your brother much more swifter than the knight in comparison to when he was a child.

There’s a proud smile on your lips when Aemond emerges victorious, looking your way with a grin. “Come to watch me?” He tilts his head.

“What does it seem like?” You muse softly after seeing that Aemond has garnered attention from other knights and maids, making a spectacle of his sparring in a outstandish way.

“It seems you want to spar with me,” he smirks.

“Daor.”

Aemond snorts, “Fine,” he picks his sword back up and points it to Cole, “again, I wish to win this next round in my sister’s honor.”

A handmaid is quick to bring you a chair, the sound of swords colliding once again filling the yard. Aemond’s eager to prove he’s surpassed Ser Criston and judging by the small crowd forming he’s eating the attention right up. You hear distant murmurs and whispers but pay no mind, it must’ve been the women from court again who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

“Just look at their hair..” One of them says.

Everyone knows, father, just look at them..

“Princess? Are you alright, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath in shock and anticipation the entire time.

The swords have stopped and everything goes still, Aemond stands with the tip of his blade pointed in your direction—not at you, but behind you. He had that crazed look in his eye again. You share a look and rise from your seat slowly.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” Your brother’s tone is cold with bitter hate.

Jacaerys stands dumbfounded and unable to form a response, you watch his (soft, plump) lips part but not a single sound comes.

“Nephews.” You quietly say with the tiniest of nods, “It’s been long hasn’t it? I take it the trip over was comfortable, was it not?”

Neither Lucerys nor Jacaerys answer at first with the younger curly-headed boy awkwardly muttering his response, very unbefitting of the next Lord of the Tides.

You barely spare him a look as you turn to Jacaerys, “Would you like me to show you your rooms? I’m sure they’ve been prepared already.”

“..We would appreciate it,” he finally replies, his voice no longer squeaky and high—rather low and suave, “seeing as there was no one to properly welcome us earlier.” His snarky response makes your skin crawl and your temper flare, but for appearances you reel yourself in.

“Apologies, nephews—it’s been a rather exhausting day preparing for the guests.” You force a polite smile.

He fixes you with a dark stare, his gaze dropping from your lips and then back up, “Mm.”

“Follow me,” you hum disappearing into the castle with the two Velaryon boys following close.

Neither one of you made an attempt to speak. What was there to talk about, they were practically strangers and you doubted Lucerys would’ve enjoyed recounting the last time the three of you had the pleasure of sharing the same roof. Jacaerys on the other hand must’ve believed you to be a fool if he thought you hadn't noticed him looking.

Annoyance runs hot through your veins as you finally reach the wing where their rooms sat, “I hope everything is to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask if you need something.”

‘Thank you.’ You hear Lucerys mumble but Jacaerys offers nothing but his heavy stare. “I’ll see you later,” your voice is soft and silky but the lingering (wanton) look you give speaks in volumes.

“Later.” You hear him faintly reply once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Court was as you expected—boring and another waste.

You stood by sweet Helaena, who was equally bored, listening as the second son of Driftmark cried over being replaced by a child. A bastard no less, you could only imagine the embarrassment he must have went through—or rather going through because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting a rest from it anytime soon.

During his speech you made eye contact a few times with Jacaerys. You don’t know why it felt natural, like gravity pulled your gaze to him over and over. When you would look he was already watching with the same hunger from before.

The whole fiasco ended in total failure because Vaemond’s killed leaving no challenger. You’re not surprised things worked out in Rhaenyra’s favor after your father wobbled his way to the throne and then had to be carried out because he overexerted himself.

Aemond shields both you and Helaena from the dead body lying on the floor, “That’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed. Someone dispose of the body.” Otto barks through the mess caused by Daemon.

You manage to sneak a last look before being ushered out by your mother and brothers. The walk back quiet and awkward, what was there to say?

“That was..something.” Aegon finally breaks the tense silence.

Your mother doesn’t reply and Aemond snorts, “It was another mess that’s what it was.” You murmur loud enough for them to hear, “Like always, they make a spectacle of themselves and father comes to save the day.”

“Should’ve known father would do that.” Aemond adds in, and it’s true.

You already knew the petition against Rhaenyra’s children of all people would be useless. It was as if the king had a sixth sense when it came to Rhaenyra. Funnily, he was sick enough to be bedridden these past years but well enough to come defend his first born one final time.

“Helaena, why don’t we take the children to the gardens? I’m sure we could both use some fresh air.” You find yourself asking, desperate to forget.

You end up spending the afternoon with Helaena in the gardens talking about everything and nothing. It was always a relaxing affair when it came to your sister and her children. You liked lounging around and watching the twins with a lazy eye. It felt nice having this small escape, kept you from ripping your own hair out over the family drama.

You’re in the middle of playing with Jaehaerys when your mother’s sworn shield interrupts, “Forgive me princesses but your mother has sent me to escort you to tonight's dinner with the king, he has requested all his children be present.”

Helaena’s smile fades and your mood is spoiled for the day, of course the king would pull a stunt like this.

“Hel.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved she merely relaxes under your touch. The two of you hesitantly part from the children after promising sweets and more playtime.

Everyone’s barely arriving with your seat being between Aemond’s and grandsire. Aemond looks disinterested (as does everyone else) but you try to put up a farce for the dying old man being carried in. It was possibly his last dinner, might as well make it a memorable one you suppose.

No one wants to speak, Aegon’s got his hands cupped in front of him in exasperation like he’s itching to reach for his wine goblet. Helaena is mumbling to herself mostly and Rhaenyra’s other children stare at their plates.

“Father,” all eyes are on you, “forgive me as I know it was your wish for us to dine together but I’m feeling unwell and would like to rest if I may..” You trail off softly placing your hands on the table, ready to flee.

Jacaerys is still looking down at his plate with a deathly tight grip on his fork. The old croak waves his hand dismissively, smiling painfully, “Yes, go on that’s fine.” He offers a gentle nod at most, you don’t think he even remembers your name.

“Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” You bow politely,

quickly moving for the exit without a spare glance.

You hear another voice but you can’t make out what they said other than the sound of a chair being pushed out. Something was telling you it was your Strong boy and the thought brings a mischievous smirk to your face as you look over at your sworn shield.

“Leave me, I’ll retire to my rooms alone; you’re dismissed.” You calmly begin walking away.

“But Princess—”

“Go Ser, I will be fine.” You leave no room for argument and hear him reluctantly let out a sigh before heading in the opposite direction.

With the guard handled you find your way through the halls humming in high valyrian until you reach your destination: the king’s council room. It’s dimly lit inside by candles, the windows are open with sounds of small folk singing and dancing heard below.

The slightest creak has you looking to the side without turning your head, “Unwell you said, you must like lying a lot..” He trails off in amusement as he plays with an ornament nearby.

“And what have I lied about nephew? Enlighten me.” You reply softly.

There’s no denying the thrill you’re getting out of this, Jacaerys was bold for following you like this, in a room all alone with no guards around. The secrecy excited you because if anyone were to find you two together—oh they’d think the worst.

An unwed maiden and the prince bastard of Dragonstone.

“You’re acting dense on purpose, putting up a farce—tell me does it make you feel better? Your words, actions—they’re insulting. I don’t think for a moment you’ve had a change of heart.” He scowls, stopping short of the king’s chair.

You spin around to face him with your hands behind your back, “Whatever do you mean?” You can’t help but bat your doe eyes.

Jacaerys hesitates for a second, “You know what I mean, do you take me for a fool.” He says low and threatening, ever so guarded with you.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know and if you’re just going to keep repeating yourself the door is right there.” You enjoy the look of anger on his face and part your lips to speak once more when he stops you with a hand on your forearm.

The touch is hot, scorching even as you feel the rush of arousal and excitement hit you all at once. No one has ever grabbed you this roughly, or been in the same proximity long enough to keep their head (you had your own way of dealing with unwanted advances).

Yet, Jacaerys still has his hand.

The audacity. “Let go you—” You move to slap him but he grabs your wrist just short of connecting to his face.

“You what? Go on, say it,” he eerily whispers as his hot breath fans over your lips.

Your calm demeanor slips and eyes narrow in anger, “You fucking bastard—unhand me right now!” Your yells are muffled when he seals his lips over yours.

You violently flinch backwards, the kiss bruising as you try pushing him off. In response he merely tightens his hold reminding you he was much stronger than the brat he used to be. Where you move he moves and if you take a step back he takes one forward. Jacaerys slips his hand through your hair and tightly grips, yanking you forward to keep you in place whenever you squirm too much for his liking.

You somehow manage to sneak a hand below your skirts for a dagger you kept and without hesitating bring it up intending to puncture his side. He sees and quickly seizes your wrist, squeezing tight as the blade slips and lands with a clank on the ground.

“I can see the way you look at me,” he whispers all breathless and breathy, “and it kills you to know you want a bastard like me doesn’t it—I wonder if you picture the same things I do,” he briefly pauses as his eyes trail over your swollen lips.

He crowds you into the table with a hand dropping to your hip, “It’s only you and I,” his lips connect with your ear trailing downwards, “you don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go.”

Your spine involuntarily arches from his electrifying touch with goosebumps erupting all over. You can’t help the soft gasp when he tugs you towards him by the hip. The very large bulge in his slacks presses stubbornly into your pelvis, hot and throbbing.

“Jacaerys we can’t,” you begin quietly.

“We can’t or you won’t?” He questions dismissively like he doesn’t believe you.

Your lips part and a shaky sigh escapes when he begins leaving open mouthed kisses over your collarbone and shoulders. You pray he doesn’t leave any marks to the naked eye as you’d hate to have to explain the marks on top of your request for moon tea.

“I can’t.” You hope he’d reconsider but to your utter horror Jacaerys sucks harshly over the soft skin of your chest where your tits sit perfectly cupped and pushed together in your dress.

You cry out from the surprise and sensitivity as your hands came up to grip his shoulders tightly. He gives your other tit the same treatment before dropping to his knees with the same lustful look in his eye from earlier.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he pleads as if he desperately needed to hear it from your lips.

“I..” Do you really want him as much as he believes you do? The very thought of him defiling and tainting your purity caused a dark swirl of emotions within you—you want all of him.

Jacaerys licks his lips hungrily and pushes up your skirts until he’s settled in front of your soft thighs. His hot breath fans over them as he inches closer until he’s eye level with your moistened, throbbing cunt.

“..Yes,” you find yourself whispering after a few moments.

A pleased rumble leaves him and he closes the distance between him and your aching cunt. The first stroke of his hot tongue over your sticky folds has you keening in pleasure and your eyes rolling shut, head thrown back. You can’t help your lewd moan—all high and breathy.

Jacaerys works his tongue over your throbbing clit in firm strokes, hands greedily feeling every inch of your smooth skin. You choke when he throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, the angle shattering as he gains more access to your soft virginal pussy; ripe for the taking.

His lips part over it and he takes your aching bud into his mouth, vigorously sucking and lapping. “Jacaerys–” You choke out as his fingers tread over your folds dipping in to press against your soppy hole, the digits gliding rather easily aided by your dripping wetness.

His middle finger slips through—poking and prodding—until he breaches and pushes past the resisting barrier. There’s a sharp whine as your cunt flutters, greedily swallowing up his fingers, “Mmn..”

You notice how he gets when he hears you make those filthy little noises, the flick of his tongue sharp and his grip growing just a bit tighter. You can’t help eagerly rolling your hips on his face, shuddering as your bare cunt slides over his hot mouth and the tip of his nose dips between your folds brushing over your clit.

“Oh gods,” you gasp breathlessly, hips baring down faster and your grip on the table getting tighter.

There’s a filthy moan below your skirts, the vibrations against your pussy have you mewling needily. With little strength you manage to smother your cunt over his face again until he decides to stop teasing and seals his mouth over your throbbing clit once again.

You whimper out a garbled version of his name as the pleasure simmers hot in your lower belly. Your release hurdles towards you fast, almost knocking the breath out of you from how intense.

“Fuck Jacaerys..!” You gasp as the coil finally snaps; leaving you with legs spread wide and hips angled down with your clit in his mouth and his fingers curled up inside you.

You’re blinded by the hot white pleasure and the slick dribbling down your thighs (to which he greedily licks it up with loud unabashed slurps and moans). You shakily push his head away from your sore spent pussy, whining when he lands one last lick over your throbbing clit before letting up.

Jacaerys stands before you in a disheveled state with his swollen, glossed over lips. His tunic’s slightly rumpled and hair clearly out of place from being buried under your skirts for so long.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly start but he quickly silences you with another kiss, this one sweeter than the last.

You can’t help your sigh leaning into his touch, he treats you much more delicately than his harsh bruising kisses from before. He handles you like you’re meant to be—gentle, pampering, soft. The sentiment leaves you eager but disappointingly he pulls away and just..leaves? If you hadn’t been so out of breath you’d call out to him.

You lay your hand over your chest shuddering at the cool sensation of drying slick between your thighs. A rational side of you argues it’s for the best things ended before escalating but another wants to seek him out.

“Princess?” You hear one of your ladies in waiting from the other side of the door.

You shove your skirts down and fix your hair in an attempt to look modest. “Princess,” her face relaxes and she approaches you with open arms, “your mother sent me, are you still feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine, I’d like to have a bath now,” you take her arm biting your inner cheek to fight the fierce heat blossoming over them from embarrassment, “you shall speak nothing of this to my mother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.”

No one comments on your troubled look while they bathed and dressed you. They knew better than to poke at the dragon; especially one that was upset.

You’re dressed in a white dainty dress you’d gotten as a gift from Aegon (though you suspected he had other intentions when he gifted it to you). You’re left sitting prettily over soft comforters and cushions, skin still smelling like rich oils and softer than a fox's fur.

“That will be all, thank you.” You bid your ladies good night and see them out just as your sworn shield takes his place in front of your chambers.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped. You’ve lost count of the hour, too entranced by the crackling firewood and waves hitting the cliffs. The candles have long died out and the moonlight took its place as your source of lighting.

You were tempted to escape to Helaena’s room using the secret tunnels but your sister could either be with Aegon or asleep. Your mother was out of question as she would chastise you about how unbecoming it is of a lady to be sneaking around during the hour of the owl.

(You’d never hear the end of it you’re afraid.)

As you roll over onto your stomach your breath hitches when the soft material glides against your swollen cunt. You quietly hiss and rub your thighs to ease the tension but it only worsens. Your clit pulses wildly, simmering heat boiling in your belly.

“Fuck.” You mutter rolling onto your back with your knees knocked apart, Jacaerys had really done a number on you.

You swallowed harshly thinking about his thick fingers and how your pussy was stretched to the brim. Your cunt flutters as you gasp softly, gods how you wanted to finish what he started earlier in the council room.

Would he lay you down tenderly and fuck you sweet or would he have you like one of those women from the streets of silk? Like a whore bent over and mounted like a bitch where he’d fuck years of hate and anger into you. Anger for what you had done and said about him and his brothers.

The thought does not bother you in the slightest, rather you’re aroused. You don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go..

You set your pride aside and slip into slippers sneaking into the secret tunnels. You walk with haste recalling where every room was after Aegon first showed you and Aemond the tunnels. You stand before his door waiting anxiously after giving three hard knocks.

The tunnel floods with light and Jacaerys stands over you, his own body casting a shadow. You stare up at him with parted lips and a dreamy glaze in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest.

“Jace,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper yet the grip you have on his robes says otherwise.

He hauls you into his arms leaving you no time to gasp before he’s pinning you onto the silken sheets. He stares down at you intensely, his grip around your wrists tight and secure. Both arms encase you on either side of your head leaving you to marvel up at the Strong Velaryon boy.

Jacaerys says nothing when he tugs his own tunic and robes off with one hand. Each article of clothing falls one by one onto the ground, the bed creaking in protest under his weight as he comes to kneel over you once again.

Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve held intense eye-contact with him, a challenge you most certainly welcomed as he still possessed those flames of desire and anger from before. With a clenched jaw he brings both your wrists to one hand and reaches below with his free to grasp his hard cock.

You can’t help but look, having to bite down on your tongue to hold in the whine that threatened to escape. The weeping head dripped pearly white seed over your soft mound from where he stroked himself. The pulsing heat between your thighs quickly becoming unbearable.

He lowers his hips until his pelvis is smushed into yours, his hard dripping cock trapped between the two of you pressed into your inner thigh. The contact is scalding with the way it throbs, how you yearn for him to take it and fuck you silly with it.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly choke, voice raspy and thick with want & need.

“This will hurt.” He carefully gauges your reaction for any discomfort or hesitance.

“Show me then, my lord Strong. Claim me as you would if I were yours, your ‘plain’ appearance is not of importance to me sweet nephew,” you purr sweetly, “we share blood of the dragon, you and I..”

You decide he needs one last push.

“Imagine a babe just like us…he wouldn’t look like a bastard, no,” his nose flares and grip tightens, “but everyone will know when they see his strong curls—”

A cry spills from your lips as Jacaerys slams his cock into you, buried to the hilt where his soft balls meet your pert cheeks. The pain burns but it’s laced with pleasure in a bittersweet way, still you can’t help the soft hisses that slip through clenched teeth each time he shifts around.

You struggle to house all of him inside, what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; fat and thick with swollen pussy lips stretched around him wrapped tight and snug. To your utter surprise however, he’s not upset at your small jab—he looks as if he were actually picturing a child with you.

“And yet you still lie beneath me, speared on a bastard’s cock,” he grunts.

Jacaerys rolls his hips, not giving you any time to adjust, “You’ll bear my children fearing they won’t come out like their father—brown hair,” thrust, “brown eyes,” thrust, “every bit of me.” He whispers low and menacing in your ear, his speed relentless and punishing.

The stinging pleasure worsens and your eyes water, it’s a sort of bone deep pleasure balanced out by the pain that was beginning to dull. You were powerless under the Velaryon Prince as you could only helplessly toss your head back from the sweet pain.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? To have my bastards?” He licks his lips and switches his pace to a more smoother one, still jabbing nonetheless but albeit more calmer.

You grit your teeth in refusal to answer, but he didn’t need your answer as he descended upon your lips hungrily and fucked into you faster. Your moans get swallowed up by both him and the slick accompanying his wet thrusts causing you to burn with embarrassment over your filthy coupling.

Your traitorous gaze drops downwards again, the sight leaving you in breathless awe. He has specks of blood smeared against his skin, his cock faring no better as it’s covered in creamy pink. You experimentally squeeze around him just to watch his mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ shuddering through the pleasure.

“Again,” he groans softly, “fuck, more.” He gasps while desperately grinding into you.

You wrap your shaking thighs around his waist and tug him closer until he’s trapped against you unable to pull out. He huffs and kisses your sweaty skin, his hips tilting to bump and grind into that sensitive spot from before.

“Oh Jacaerys,” your back arches and toes curl.

Throaty little moans spill from his lips over each rhythmic squeeze around his swollen cock. He fucks into that soft sticky heat just listening to the filthy wet sounds your cunt makes. He enjoys the soft thwacks of his balls slapping against your taint, splattering creamy slick over the sheets.

“Oh,” you shudder, peak hitting harder than ever

You feel the warmth and utter bliss/satisfaction when you come down from your high. Dollops of wet slick spill from the sides of your stuffed pussy, a phantom pulsing sensation most likely from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” He bites back his needy moan, pressing deeply to ensure every drop gets buried in your cunt. It seemed like you were going to pay a visit to the maestar soon for moon tea.

However you were far more concerned about your ability to walk, you could barely even feel the space between your legs much less your cunt and knees.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Peace never really lasts long in the Red Keep, not with the never ending feud between both your families.

From what you heard, shortly after Jacaerys left you the first time he joined dinner again only to find himself punching Aemond while Aegon slammed Lucerys into his plate. Aemond had done it again with his taunts over your nephew’s legitimacy.

Rhaenyra was leaving again after those years gone, which meant Jacaerys would be gone too. You hadn’t voiced your displeasure nor let it show when the boys were seen off to their dragons at the pit. You hid by a column, peeking out watching them saddle up for their journey home.

Jacaerys doesn’t notice you at first but when he does he stops and his gaze softens with pity. “Aunt.” He greets striding over with his arms behind his back.

“Jacaerys.” You greet quietly, refusing to meet his eyes in a stubborn act of defiance.

He tilts your chin up gently and forces you to look, “This doesn’t have to be the end you know,” he brushes a stray hair from your face, “unless you want to stop?”

“I don’t,” you find yourself snapping quicker than he can finish which makes him smile, “you know I don’t. I just don’t see how it’s possible to continue..this, if you’re so far away on Dragonstone.” You mumble and cup his cheek.

Jacaerys leans into your touch with a hum, “I’m a dragon ride away my love,” your cheeks burn at the endearment, “I’ll send ravens if I have to—you don’t need to worry about a single thing.”

You gently peck his lips and sigh, “..If you don't write to me, I will..” You trail in high valyrian whilst squeezing his hand until it pops threateningly. He laughs low and brings your hand up to kiss, instantly quelling your temper.

“I swear it,” he replies, kissing your knuckles once more despite Luke calling out to him in the background, his dragon calling out for him.

You allow a soft smile as you whisper ‘go’, no doubt your mother would be looking for you as well. You watch him leave your side once again only this time you knew he’d be returning sometime soon as the king neared the hour of death.

No one knew of your little letters you exchanged with Jacaerys over the course of weeks. He would send you flowers and other things he’d find around Dragonstone while you sent perfumed handkerchiefs or oil scented letters.

You knew he particularly loved when the paper smelled like you. (You’d be rewarded with vulgar responses.)

‘My beloved, everything reminds me of you and how you might enjoy this if you were here. I’d give anything to have you here by my side dressed in Targaryen colors. I personally think red suits you best my love, don’t you think? I’ll have a dress tailored to fit in all the right places, perhaps we can arrange a slit for easy access? You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

If your mother noticed your odd behavior, she didn’t comment. Alicent knew very well what a lovestruck girl looked like as she had been one herself not too long ago. No one comments on the frequent visits to the dragon pit where you’d disappear for hours on end returning once the moon had risen.

The illusion shatters however when Viserys dies.

Right away your mother and grandsire crown Aegon as king. You should feel indifferent about the throne but you can’t help the ugly feeling you get upon seeing Aegon the conqueror's crown over your brother’s head. He was no king. He was not made to be king.

War was coming. With Aegon usurping Rhaenyra, as if that wasn’t enough, Aemond goes and fucking kills your nephew in some petty child’s game.

You heard the boy sunk into the waters after Vhagar mauled his tinier dragon. When you were flying over you heard Vermax’s loud cries of anguish, no doubt feeling his riders emotions as Jacaerys mourned Lucerys.

Your own dragon cried out in return as you swiftly landed and hopped off, stumbling through the sand as Jacaerys quickened his pace. You meet each other halfway with him falling into your arms, brokenly sobbing.

His loud cries are drowned out by the harsh waves hitting shore and seagulls flying around. At that very moment it’s only you and him standing on that beach wrapped up in each other’s arms. You press a series of kisses against his temple, tightening your hold when you feel him tremble.

“Shh.. sh, my love. I’m here.” You murmur soothingly.

Jacaerys swallows harshly, “He…he killed him,” he croaks out, “he’s gone.” It physically hurts seeing him unable to speak, just choking up over his words like a little boy crying for his mother.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You hold him until he grows tired of sobbing, resorting to softer sniffles as he cowers in your hold. Jacaerys has a death grip around your waist where his fingers dig into you unknowingly. “I can’t lose you.” He mutters.

You will never forget the haunting look in his eye. Jacaerys had already lost his brother, he would not be losing you either..

༺ ──────────── ༻

..A son for a son they said after the ratcatchers beheaded Jaehaerys in his sleep.

You were up for days unable to process the grief and horror, moreso you felt for Helaena (beautiful Helaena who hadn’t deserved any of this). The way your mother had allowed the death of a child—her own blood—to be handled was despicable.

You saw Otto Hightower for what he was: a power hungry cunt. Your own brothers were strangers to you, Aemond having killed his own nephew in cold blood and Aegon a bloodthirsty idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

You understand why Viserys favored Rhaenyra now.

“He’s a fool, mother was right to tell him he would be more useful doing nothing,” you sharply reply.

You’re in Jacaerys’ room after a sneaky endeavor in his bed all afternoon, complaining about your stupid brothers. Your lover lays on his side with a hand supporting his head listening attentively with a loving gaze.

“What was it you said that he told Aemond—I can have to make a war?” Jacaerys snorts in amusement brushing his fingers through your hair.

“He’s an idiot. It’s a wonder anyone can actually stand being in the same room as him, if he’s not crying about Aemond making plans behind his back then he’s crying that no one respects him.” You shake your head.

“Hm, my mother still thinks we can avoid war,” he sighs deeply, “if only it were easy, right?” He slides your hand in his, holding it tightly while stroking over your knuckles with his thumb.

You can’t help but squeeze back, “Patience my love, everyone already sees how incompetent Aegon is. He’s already the usurper in their eyes and nobody really listens to him so to speak.”

“Suppose you're right about a few things.” Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your plush lips, still swollen and bitten-raw from his punishing little nips and aggressive kissing.

Your stomach swoops with excitement as a playful grin forms over your lips, “Only a few things?” You lean down to whisper, lips inches away from his.

He smiles lazily and cups your cheeks, “Of course not you know I trust your judgment, my love.” He mumbles soothingly while brushing over your loose curls.

He looks beautiful like this—the sheets hung low around his bare hips and the love bites littered across his shoulders and neck. You’d like to stay forever like this with him, all tangled up and the only sounds being your soft voices and the waves hitting the cliffs by his open window.

“Do you? Or is my prince only saying that because he desires a kiss?”

It’s comical the way Jacaerys lights up like a child faced with a fresh batch of lemon cakes. He eagerly slots his lips over yours and draws your naked body closer to him until his stirring cock is pressed flush against your hip—still coated in wet slick and oils from earlier.

You reach with one hand to tangle it through his soft curls, yanking his head back, “That isn’t an answer my love; does my prince want a kiss or not?” You ask firmer this time.

His eyes hollow darkly as he licks his lips, “May I? Your prince desires it.” He whispers low and breathy. When he says it like that you simply can’t deny as you eagerly press into him.

Jacaerys wraps his arms around your back and hauls you under him pinning you down against the soft sheets. You moan into his mouth reaching below to grasp his heavy cock in your soft palm and squeezing the head.

“Seems he desires more than a kiss,” you husk, tugging at his cock and enjoying the way he chases your touch.

“I want to claim every inch of you until you’re filled with my cum, maybe this time you will catch,” He finishes with a growl in high valyrian.

His cock slides between your sticky folds bumping and slipping against your clit. You angle the tip downward until it catches against your rim with a hitch, “Jace,” you sigh.

You feel every inch until he’s fed your cunt his cock. The stretch is mouthwateringly good, you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else who could come this close to pleasuring as Jacaerys did. He wastes no time in rocking into you with long forceful thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair turning your head away.

Jacaerys messily mouths along your neck and shoulder with muffled groans while desperately covering every inch of your skin with his mouth. You catch him off guard when you wrap your limbs around him and roll the two of you over.

“Lie back my love,” you seductively whisper.

He watches, entranced as you set your hands over his bare chest and push. The delicious weight combined with the heavenly warmth around his cock has his head rearing back and a long moan escaping.

You bite down on your lip taking in his every reaction. From this angle he strikes deep leaving you with a pleasant ache you’d be feeling the coming days. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, hips stuttering in their movements.

Jacaerys gets his hands over your hips and tugs you back down over his lap causing a groan to bubble out of your throat. He uses his newfound grip to bounce you in his lap until a low fopping sound from his thighs smacking into your cheeks fills the room.

Your gasps come out in short stuttered breaths with the occasional ‘mm’ thrown in there. Mid-roll you manage to firmly plant yourself in his lap trapping his fat cock in your wet cunt. You feel it twitching inside, desperate for another release.

Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s fill the room alongside the sounds of sheets shuffling and seagulls in the distance. You’re lost in the moment basking in sunny rays and hot bubbling pleasure. His grip not once loosening nor slipping.

“Seven hells, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathlessly groans.

His cock pulses faintly and then you’re being filled with thick spurts of white. He lazily squeezes your soft cheeks, watching with a blissed out expression. While you had yet to reach your own peak, you also didn’t mind just this.

Your hips came to a stop and you found yourself laying over his chest staring out at the orange-pink sky as you mumble, “I love you.”

༺ ──────────── ༻

Helaena hasn’t spoken much about your nephew since the funeral. She says she’s fine but you doubt that’s any true, you supposed she grieved differently. Helaena has always been a special case (in a positive light).

“Aegon left to battle,” you find yourself saying after an hour of silence, “Aemond too.”

Helaena can offer no insight as she kneels before her caged insects, speaking in soft whispers like she usually did, only this time her tone accompanied by her soft hums.

“How is Jaehaera?”

“..Fine.” More humming.

“And what have you embroidered as of lately–”

“You can go,” she softly interrupts, “everything is fine.” You’re stunned, maybe you overstepped and she wasn’t in need of visitors. That was fine, Helaena’s doing fine—

Your sister reaches over to grasp your hands tightly, staring into your eyes, “Everything will be fine. You must leave or else it will be too late,” a pained smile forms over her lips, “you will be one soon, and then two.”

“..what about you?” Your eyes watered, you dread the thought of leaving her here to suffer alone at the hands of Aegon.

Helaena lays a sweet kiss over your head, “There’s a storm coming, it makes flying harder.”

You wipe your tears and shakily nod, embracing her one last time before rushing through the hidden tunnels to your room. In a satchel you threw a few items of importance along with jewelry you doubt you’d need but something in your gut told you otherwise.

It’s easy to slip unnoticed through the tunnels and keep, the city proves much harder. You manage to pass through the small folk using alleys and hidden paths until you’re outside of the dragon pit. None of the dragon keepers question you and simply bring out Melaxes.

She senses your anxiety and begins to whine, “Shh, lykirī.” You’re quick to soothe her by leaning your forehead against her side.

When she calms down you guide her out of the pit, “Soves,” you murmur and Melaxes roars into the sky disappearing into the thick clouds.

You will be one soon, and then two.

Realization dawns: you haven’t bled for two moons now. Your hand immediately comes up to cover the swell of your stomach. Of course, what were you expecting?

You didn’t drink fucking moon tea and Jacaerys never cared to pull off. Your throat tightens up and tears spring to your eyes, “No,” you claw at your collar heaving.

Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Your eyes widened—Larys Strong had heard talks of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Jacaerys going to battle together..

“Naejot!” You plunge forward until Melaxes zips above the sea, you pray to whatever god listening that Jacaerys is there safe and sound waiting for you.

You leave her not too far from the castle as you run up the hill towards the one place you knew he’d have to be. It’s a miracle no one notices Alicent Hightower’s youngest daughter storming through the halls until you reach Rhaenyra’s council room.

No one’s there.

“Oh fuck..” You whisper with a hand over your stomach, “No, no, no, no.” (There’s a loud ringing in your ear and it won’t stop.)

The tears come before you can even stop them as your vision quickly blurs. There’s something in your throat but it won’t come out no matter how much you heave and gag on your saliva.

“Mmn,” you whimper in discomfort and pain while curling away, refusing to believe Jacaerys was gone. You want your mother.

Your arm shakily shoots out to grab onto the stone for balance, “..please,” it comes out as a wheeze.

“y/n?” Was this a cruel dream? Jacaerys frowns and immediately starts walking to your side, “What’s wrong?”

He’s met with your lips and a tight crushing grip when you bury your fingers through his hair. You fiercely smother him in a desperate kiss which draws out a hiss from him when you bite his bottom lip.

“..We have to leave,” you mumble.

“Leave?” He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Jacaerys, please trust me—we need to go,” you desperately plead.

Jacaerys shakes his head, “y/n you’re not making sense right now, leave where? And what of my mother? What of Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey? What of my duty as heir to the throne? You say it as if it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” He slams his hand over the table.

“I’m expecting a child,” you choke up, “and I don’t want my baby to die, Jacaerys. I want our baby to live.” You cry softly.

Jacaerys goes eerily still, silently watching you weep all you’ve held in until now. His eyes cast downward over the Targaryen pin on his tunic, glistening under the light shining proudly as a reminder of where he came from.

He says nothing and reaches up to unpin the dragon sigil resting over his shoulder. He reaches over to silently do the same with your own before neatly placing both over the table, releasing his sharp breath.

There’s no other way around this regardless if you stayed or not your child was in danger simply by living and breathing. The Greens would come after you, maybe Aemond would be the one to kill you or perhaps even Daemon. Your child would be dead either way as the king made it obvious how he felt about bastard children.

Jacaerys turns to you with a gentle but pained smile, and in that moment you knew what he chose. Your lip curls sadly and with an outstretched hand you accept him. He squeezes tightly like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand manages to sneak between the two of you to press into your stomach where your child would soon grow.

Neither one of you says anything while Jacaerys packs what he plans to take. He writes to Rhaenyra and leaves the letter in plain sight over his desk. It’s quiet but comforting as he leads you to Melaxes and Vermax.

When she finds the letter Rhaenyra weeps. She can’t find it in her to be upset with him and while yes you had been another insolent brat as a child; you were still her half-sister who was now carrying her grandchild.

“If we fly out now we might catch up to them.” Daemon seethes as he paces back and forth before the queen, “This is just absurd, has the boy officially gone mad? A Hightower cunt no less.” He scoffs.

“Leave them, they’ve made their choice and we will make ours.” Rhaenyra shoots a pointed look at anyone who dares protest. She knows she’s vulnerable now that she’s lost two heirs.

..and if she hears the small folk speaking of two dragon riders traveling across the narrow sea, months later after reclaiming Kings Landing; she turns a blind eye and prays.

+ translations:

dohaerās (serve)

daor (no)

lykirī (be calm)

soves (fly)

naejot (forward)

[vaamins]

RICHBOY GOJO! meets you at one of the annual parties he throws near the end of the year. the ones where everyone is invited. literally everyone. some from other ends of town, and some, satoru doesn’t even know. even the neighbours cat comes to his parties.

RICHBOY GOJO! who is known for his money. his parents in fact, but no one cares. it’s him who’s rich asf, and he makes it known to everyone. pulling up in a lambo just for school. or wearing the newest designer clothes from Valentino. there’s nothing he doesn’t have.

RICHBOY GOJO! who sees you in the crowd and thinks he’s seen you somewhere before but can’t place when. who, multiple times during the day finds his eyes wandering to you somehow. watching as you talk to your friends laughing about something.

RICHBOY GOJO! who starts small talk with you, commenting on your dress and how good you look. all his friends say he’s tryna get into your pants but that’s not true ( well partly )

RICHBOY GOJO! who ever since meeting you, suddenly wants to know everything about you. before he couldn’t have cared less about anything else, but now? he wants to know every single bit of you.

RICHBOY GOJO! who stays up thinking about you. who tells suguru the new girl he’s met. suguru immediately tells him to shut up but it doesn’t stop him from yapping on bout you.

RICHBOY GOJO! who suddenly has a heart of change ( somehow overnight ) when he finds out you don’t like boys who are publicly arrogant and show off.

RICHBOY GOJO! who suddenly, doesn’t come to school in his usual lambo or wearing louise.

RICHBOY GOJO! who somehow becomes so down to earth. never flaunts his money in peoples faces. hell. even his parties have died down to basically once every 6 months.

RICHBOY GOJO! who everyone thinks his family has gone broke from his drastic change but it’s not that.

RICHBOY GOJO! who’s parents even comment on his weird behaviour. but they don’t question much. their just glad their son isn’t a partyboy anymore.

RICHBOY GOJO! who finally realises he’s inlove when shoko brings his change io to him. laughing on how only a lovesick fool could change that fast. yeah. he silently agrees.

RICHBOY GOJO! who treasures every hand made gift you’ve given him. even the phone chain you made out of some beads you found. it dangles off his phone, pink with a hello Kitty attached to it but he couldn’t care less how girly it is. he can’t bring himself to remove it.

RICHBOY GOJO! who finally tells you he likes you on one of his most recent parties. one he hasn’t done in a long time, and he finds he’s lost taste for them. finding the moving crowds of so many people annoying. it’s only then that he realises the effect you have on him. that you’ve unknowingly spurred him onto a new and good path.

RICHBOY GOJO! who wants to grow better because of you.

RICHBOY GOJO! who finally tells you he loves you while your sitting outside on the front lawn. taking a breather. and that’s where he confesses. out of the blue but confident. he wants you to know how much e loves you.

RICHBOY GOJO! who is shocked when you kiss him in return. leaving him a blushing mess. so unlike the ‘richboy gojo’ you comment. and he laughs, content with where he is now, with you.

©  VAAMINS 24  .ᐟ do not copy, repost or plagiarise my works.

[gloxk]

just sitting here high asf thinking about getting the sloppiest head from aot guyzzz…*HEAVY ASS SIGH* let me wish upon a star hoping someone could write about this for me…*LONG HEAVY EXTREME SIGH.*

⁺ 　 . ✦ Favorite eaters ⁺ 　 . ✦

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: ugh yes girl ik the feeling … im to sitting here wondering how nasty eren would eat the kitty…BUT ANYWAYS TYSM FOR 600!!! NEXT STOP 700!!! AHHH!

Synopsis: Aot men as your favorite eater.

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♡ Eren ♡

Ughh omg..Eren giving you nasty head after he pissed you off…The type of head that makes you run away in shame!!!

“Givin me an attitude ain’t gonna get you anywhere, you know better den that.” Eren scoffed, while tossing a blunt over to you.

Oh boy how he was so undeniably wrong.

You could tell Eren was unamused with your bullshit. He wasn’t taking you ignoring lightly at all.

“You gon fix it or am I, figure it out.” he whispered in your ear. You stood on what you dished out, you weren’t fixing shit.

You chuckled at him in response, how stupid he was to think you were going to pipe down.

That was until he found his way between your thighs..

One hand tangled in his brown locs and the other one holding a blunt. Best combo..

You lazily rutted against his tongue while his piercing twirled against your puffy clit.

It was so hard to look him in the eyes after he made you cum on his tongue 3 times.

“Still got an attitude baby?”

Let’s just say..you ain’t had one after that.

♡ Armin ♡

Oh..lawd. I said this once i’ll say it A FUCKING AGAIN. Armin is a pussy eater expert. He’s VERY talented in that ‘field’..

This man has no problem eating it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hell, he will wake up and decide he’s hungry and start going crazy.

That’s how your morning starts..with Armin stuck between your thighs eating it so you can wake up.

Eyes barely opened and you’re already on the verge of cumming..his way of saying ‘goodmorning’.

He so eager to do it too. Sometimes yall could just be watching netflix and he will insist on eating you out.

“Well, I mean, the show is kind of boring. Just come on, it will be quick.” He’ll beg and beg, “Please, I know you’re tired, I can help you go to sleep faster!”

His contact name is NyQuil in yo phone! (If you know. you know .)

When he say fast..oh baby he mean fast. That tongue can move at speeds you didn’t even know existed.

But his favorite time to get to munching is before you go to work.

“We got 10 minutes Armin.” He don’t need even need 10 he will make you cum in 5.

♡ Connie ♡

Ex! Connie getting fucking wasted and coming back home and eating you till your cummin everywhere…

I just know he eats it with his grillz on..I just know.

You want nasty head? Connie is your man for it. He gonna make it SLOPPY SLOPPY.

“Baby whatchu mean, we supposed to be in love..” his words slightly slur, he had a fuck boy grin plastered over his face. “stop acting like you ain’t happy to see me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be there and he knew that. But you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially when he was telling you how much he missed you. “Cmere baby i’ve been missin you..” & “I know you mad at me lemme change that.”

if ‘Let my face be yo chair’ was a person…

Sitting on his face is a pleasure to you and him. He gets to see his (ex) girlfriend and you get some head.

A win win in your books!

You grinding against his golden grills while his hands rub your waist up and down. “You got such pretty moans, lemme hear em baby.” & “Uh-huh, let it out mama.”

He’s looking you dead in your eyes while doing it too…

“You made such a mess baby. Don’t worry go to sleep, ima clean it up.” UGH THIS MAN….

best ex ever!

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going absolute feral for these men it don’t even make any sense.

[uchihaharlot]

Master List

Uchiha Headcanons:

Which sex position to the boys bust fast (nsfw)

Sounds the Uchiha make during sex (nsfw)

Uchiha 3some feat. Shisui/Itachi/AFAB (nsfw)

Obito/Itachi Drabble to crush giving them a back rub (sfw)

Obito/Shisui reaction/with pregnant s/o (n/sfw — suggestive.)

Uchiha men fucking you raw for the first time (nsfw)

How Uchiha’s tolerate a tomboy girl (sfw/kinda cute, kinda lost my ability to write)

When you break an Uchiha’s heart (sfw but sad asf fuck)

Obito/Shisui when their s/o has a stripper pole (nsfw)

Uchiha with an artistic friend-s/o (sfw)

Obito/Itachi massage with happy endings (nsfw)

Shiita/ Itachi unfortunately falls victim to a lactation jutsu 🥴 (nsfw)

Uchiha’s against your killer breasts (nsfw)

Uchiha men and facial hair (sfw)

You watching Shisui plow Itachi (nsfw)

Baby trap Uchiha’s (nsfw)

Calling Obito/Itachi daddy (nsfw)

Holding their pp as they pee (nsfw)

Club night with the boys (sfw/mentions of cock)

Morning blowjobs 🥹🙏🏼 (nsfw)

Uchiha’s dealing with someone who self harms (nsfw)

What turns on an Uchiha? (nsfw)

Obito/Shisui with virgin (nsfw)

Madara:

Dirty things Madara does to you (nsfw)

Obsessive/jealous Madara (nsfw)

Madara getting pussy whipped by a young girl (nsfw)

If Madara's lover was captured hc (sfw)

Wearing lingerie for Madara (nsfw)

Obito/Tobi:

General headcanons for Obito/Tobi(sfw)

Obito/Zetsu relationship headcanon(sfw)

Obito with a clingy s/o (n/sfw suggestive)

Obito kinda being a dom (nsfw)

Shisui:

Bird feeding Shisui his own cum(nsfw)

Shisui asking a stranger to dance(nsfw?— suggestive)

Shisui chasing a girl down (sfw)

Can Shisui suck himself off? Yes, absolutely! (nsfw)

Shisui CEO au/attempt (nsfw)

Origins of Shisui sucking his cock (nsfw)

Shisui sucking you off in the bathroom (nsfw)

Shisui messing with a cross dressed Itachi (nsfw-ish)

Shisui topped by a girl with more stamina (nsfw)

Shisui finger banging you on a stationary bike (nsfw)

Uchiha men discovering their wives masturbating in the onsen (nsfw)

Shisui on ‘sloppy seconds’ (nsfw)

Shisui having triplets (n/sfw)

Shisui's son asking for a puppy (nsfw)

Shisui explaining why he deserves credit for baby making (nsfw)

Shisui leaving behind his pregnant girlfriend (n/sfw)

Itachi:

Light sex hc(nsfw)

S/o doing an erotic dance for Itachi (nsfw)

Squirting for the first time (nsfw)

Itachi returning home from a long mission (nsfw)

Sasuke:

Some random hc, mostly like a date night (n/sfw)

Falling for a friend of a friend of a friend (NSFW)

Personal drabbles:

Shisui fucking a civilian girl stupid (nsfw)

Shisui’s deplorable behavior with fem!cousin (nsfw)

Shisui lacing your drink with cum (nsfw)

Undesignated Shisui smut (nsfw)

[astr0exe]

Hollup, wait I js had an idea

Bull hybrid!tm reader with Farmer!Graves, it makes total sense! Because Graves is from the south and he definetly owns his own little farm. Reader is spoiled asf, during breeding season he knocks Graves over almost all the time and Graves is just wondering why his boy is acting like this. Until he feels reader grinding against his jeans and then he's like 'oh shit, thats why' :3

OKAY SO THIS HAS BEEN IN MY ASKS FOR SO SO LONG IM SO SORRY ML 🫶🏻🩶 !! THIS IDEA IS SO YUMMY THOUGH:(( but yeah m rlly sorry lovie hope you like this <33 n M SO SORRY IF THIS IS BAD😭 also sorry i changed this to male reader by accident 😕🫶🏻🫶🏻

// CW : MALE!Reader , bull!reader , breeding , rough housing (??) , no aftercare ig

Farmer!Graves with Bull!reader who is large, like huge and built like a brick wall. Your horns that are sharp and thick, everyone knows you if they visit Graves farm. But that’s because he spoils you, you’re just too cute:( , He can’t help but just adore you some times, especially because you are used as a stud on the farm.

Breeding season rolls around, your cock is painfully hard between your legs. Its bulbous head red and dripping pre-cum excessively. Your huffs of air are loud, as Graves comes into your pen. You basically barrel into him, knocking him into the wall of the barn as you groan lowly in his ear. Your grip harsh on his hips with your face hidden into his neck. Your cock rubbing against the fabric of your shorts and his pants, the feeling is euphoric and overwhelming as you whine and huff, needing relief.

Graves is completely taken aback, his eyes wide and confused before slowly realising what time of year it is. Breeding season. He can feel your cock rubbing against his belt. Straining against the thin material of your pants, needing to stuff his arse full. Graves hands move down, pulling down the material keeping your dick confined before ultimately letting it spring out, hitting your abdomen. His hands are on you in an instant, trying to relieve the pain for you. Your precum coating your large cock.

Your groans are loud as you move rapidly, pinning Philip to the ground with your body as you rut your hips aggressively against Graves arse. Your hot puffs are air against his neck makes him shiver and whine almost silently. His hand grips your cock and helps guide your rutting into his hole. Your cock hammers straight into his needy hole. The sudden tightness makes your hips stutter. A whimper leaves your lips as your horns nudge Graves cheek. Your thrusts are fast and rough, giving away your need as you whine and huff loudly, growling. Your large hoofs (idk terms?) gripping Philips hips harshly.

His moans are loud and bounce off of the walls of the barn, the roughness of your cock dragging along his walls makes his cock twitch, his embarrassment from being about to cum overshadowed by the immense pleasure you are giving to him. His shout as he cums is high pitched, the pleasure blinding him as his cock spurts with ropes and ropes of cum.. His hole tightens on your cock making you howl in pure pleasure, your own orgasm being brought on because of Graves’.

[tarosunshine]

Enhypen/Riize as kdrama love troupes or couples?? Like Business proposal or My demon // I hope this makes sense 😭

—⁠ ִ ۫ ⭒ in a word of boys he's a gentleman ، ، 엔하이픈

๑ genre fluff 一 warning none ! pairing kdrama boyfriend OT7 x fem reader ⋮ bookshelf .

heeseung as guwon﹙my demon﹚  ۫ ੭

at first, you thought he was the most serious man, with all the suspicious attractive aura and all. then, when he fell in love with you, it was like a different person, acting so full of energy and so so so clingy, all smiling when it comes to you. he's the most romantic man alive, and he will give you anything.

“babe, where are you goiiing?”

jay as doosik﹙hometown cha cha cha﹚  ۫ ੭

he is a gentleman. he will do anything for you, making you feel so full of love. the acts of service are his thing; making you breakfast, walking you home, tying your shoes, opening the door for you, helping you with the most little thing you want. showing you his affection by actions but also words and physical touch. he's sooo in love and he's the cutest.

“i love you.”

jake as joonhyung﹙weightlifting fairy kim bok joo﹚  ۫ ੭

a total sucker for you. he's like the happiest man alive when you smile at him, like a big puppy with full of energy when he's around you. he's just too silly. it's like having a best friend and a boyfriend at the same time, making jokes and being funny. you two are like dumb and dumber fr. maybe he likes to bother you a little.

“you're my fisrt love.”

sunghoon as minjoon﹙my love from the star﹚  ۫ ੭

he was hard to catch at the beginning, but you started to like him first, tough he didn't like you back then. and he completely falled in love after you did, and the boy fell harder. protective asf, he's just so attentive to you. he is in all the details. he will listen yo everything you have to say.

“it's okay, i'm here.”

sunoo as guwon﹙king the land﹚  ۫ ੭

communicative king. he will tell you all you need to hear. anything is bothering or upsetting you? he will clarify things right now, you don't need to worry. he fell first, but he was in denial at first of having feelings for you —although he accepted them so fast. he says he doesn't know how to flirt but girl-. if you are mad at him, he will give you your space. his love is so so so pure and cute.

“i can't help but smile when i see this person smile.”

jungwon as minhyuk﹙strong woman do bong soon﹚  ۫ ੭

dramatic king. he's your baby, you know that, but anyway, you can give him cuteness aggression. i mean, you can't blame him. he just really loves you. his cheeks definitely hurt when he is with you because he can't stop smiling! you just can ask whatever you want, and after he looks at your eyes, he will be like 'whatever you want, pretty'. falling on his knees when you first called him by a silly nickname you made just for him.

“but why you're so pretty today? oh, what should i do with you?”

ni-ki as sunjae﹙lovely runner﹚  ۫ ੭

he will act all cool and serious in front of you, like he isn't so into you. but you got him kicking his feet and giggling when you answer his messages, smiling like a fool when you aren't looking at him, rolling in his bed when he sees a photo of you, sighing every two seconds when he thinks about you. oh, but when he's with you, he will act like the cool and unbothered serious boy that he wants you to think he is.

“i wasn't smiling!”

maybe next will be riize as love tropes !

[davinashifts333]

DATING KIM HONGJOONG OF ATEEZ PART 1:

⚫️summary; once again, first part to Hongjoong’s section in the new ATEEZ fics or requests I am taking, so REQUEST!!! & STREAM GOLDEN HOUR!! LET’s GOOOOO!! see all my fellow ATINY at the Arlington concert!!🩷🩷🩷

⚠️warnings; fluff, Joongie being Joongie, Ateez idiocies, craziness, some swearing, implied smut, etc. IF YOU’RE NOT 18, GTFO! disrespectfully.

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-dating Kim HongJoong is also becoming a mother of 6 & a sister wife to Seonghwa.

-dating HongJoong means late nights where you walk around Han River with snacks from the 24hr convenience stores & chat about your days but also, early mornings for the days off he has & has planned a full day of activities for you two.

-dating HJ is like being his best kept secret but also his most prized possession, he is so protective & loving to you, it’s weird for the boys.

-dating Joong is being at his dorm as much as possible because once he had you? he never wanted to let go, he swore he hated skin-ship but with you? nahhh. that was out the door.

-dating Joongie is like having a boyfriend, husband, best friend & confidant all in one because he is so respectful & sweet but also so serious & dominating that it sometimes scares you how quickly his personality can switch. (but it’s also hot asf because Captain?)

-dating HongJoong is being BumJoong’s bestie & little sister, when HongJoong is off on tour? you best believe BumJoong, momma Kim & anyone from HongJoong’s family is calling you & visiting you to make sure you’re doing well.

-some nicknames he would call you based on his initial vibe/aura & personality seen on camera; Baby, Babydoll, Love, Sweetheart, Darling, Little one (because he finally found someone smaller than him), Beautiful, Dove, etc.

-dating HJ is moving fast but it feeling right? like a month in & he’s flying you out to Seoul to visit him or coming to visit you (if his schedule permits because baby boy is BUSY).

-being HongJoong’s girlfriend means also being his true right hand, the person he wants to learn about everyday, the girl of his dreams, the one who he asks for advice all the time but ultimately protects with his life & the best part of all, the person who sees his true self & softest parts of him & his personality.

-dating Joongie is meeting his family early on & going on vacations with them but also becoming so close with his mom he just sits & pouts that you’re stealing her from him & Eomma Kim is stealing you from him too.

-you & Eomma Kim cooking for the fam & her loving you so much because you remind her of a young version of herself (be that you’re foreign or not, she find attributes about you so calming & similar to hers).

-dating HongJoong is a blessing & curse st the same time, let’s be real this man is a Scorpio, he is DEMANDING. but, also the sweetest & most sensitive & emotionally open person you know, he truly understands the beauty of the world, of people & is driven by passion so, if you are similar to him? he would be most grateful because he would feel so understood & like he could truly open up to you.

-dating HJ means truly learning the deepest parts of his soul, his drive, his motivation, his passion & the reasons behind all of them. him showing you & teaching you the way he sees the world through his eyes & loving that you understand & see it the same way.

-soft launching on your IG & the ATEEZ acc because you’re also a musician/artist/producer/singer (whatever) & you do a challenge with him & some other members.

-being his girlfriend would mean also being the group’s baby sister, each member loving you for a different reason & you often hang out with them but, yes your boyfriend/future husband gets jealous so he steals you away & keeps you to himself. (we all know this man is jealous, be for fucking real).

-“Ya! Jagi, why are you with Wooyoung & not me? Am I not enough for you? Wooyoungie, go away, she’s mine.” & so he does, San is already waiting for Woo in the living room of HongJoong’s dorm so you both can have alone time in his room.

-“Don’t worry, we don’t love Y/n at allll. It’s not like she’s OUR friend too.” Woo yells back as he walks off to steal Joong’s snacks he has “hidden”.

-you laughing the whole way Joong drags you to his room.

-Joong being a complete baby & softie with you despite the persona/front he puts on for the cameras.

-ATINY loving that they get to see this side through small snippets & stories on your IG/YouTube/Twitter/TikTok, etc.

-posting pics together & also him posting pics he’s taken of you on his camera/polaroid.

-being his muse, he literally has made 10’s of playlists & is working on songs that include things about you that only the members, him & you truly understand & know the meaning behind.

-being his all time biggest supporter, he DID meet you wearing a MATZ t-shirt so, it got him flustered & thinking about how you could he so calm while seeing him in person.

-yes you were ATINY before you dated, like dude, come on. who couldn’t love these 8 idiots.

-playfully arguing with Mingi over how you can’t choose between their rap styles because they’re so different & both so good.

-movie nights with the members where you & Joong end up sneaking off to be alone & they start hounding you both about not being able to keep it in your pants.

-he’s a passionate lover, so hidden marks, body to body, eye contact, multiple positions, etc. are for SURE his go to.

-he loves to be in control but whenever you do try to take control? it only riles him up more & has you walking funny for a few days after.

-your personality & aura is made up of leadership energy, dominance, bluntness, strength, etc. but, the real you is a soft & loving person, he is definitely the type to like someone like him, who looks so dark & scary on the outside but is truly just so intelligent, caring & creative as he is.

-dating Kim Hong Joong is like breathing underwater in a dream & no longer fearing anything, it’s like giving into your deepest & darkest desires & fighting no matter how hard the fight is. It’s like being worshipped & worshipping at the same time, it’s a push & pull of who loves who more but ultimately it’s so equal because you BOTH are so equal, it’s insane. It’s air in lungs that haven’t been able to take a full, clean & crisp breath in the longest time. It’s feeling so high & happy like you’re on cloud 9 24/7, 365.4 days a year & more.

-being his person, his lover, his best friend & future wife? is a dream written in the stars but only time could bring you closer. it’s poetry, passion & pain all in one but truly, a love so deep & understanding you could never consider it vain.

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A/N: I AM SO EXCITED TO GET BACK INTO WRITING, I HAVE MISSED SPILLING MY THOUGHTS & IDEAS ONTO THIS BLOG. FELLOW TX ATINY, SEE YOU SOON, even if you don’t know who I really am (my real name is NOT Davina & you’ll never know the real me BUT) LET’s STREAM GOLDEN HOUR!! MI GENTE LATINA!! LET’s GOOOO!! also, i am so close to 200 followers & I’m so excited & curious why I have so many followers but!! let’s get to 200!! (i’m at 199 rn)

[inkmonster21]

The Willing One

Carry On - The Traveler x Fem!Reader

Words: 14,686 (Long asf so I’m sorry)

Warnings: (manipulation, ptsd, stockholm syndrome, SMUT)

You wake up groggily as your alarm blares in your ears. You check the time, frowning at 4 am. Your bed sheets shift off of you as you sit up, stretching out your limbs.

A sigh escapes you before you get out of bed, your feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. You remain steadfast to the routine you've set for yourself. After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you stroll into your living room, doing yoga while a piping hot cup of coffee goes cold on the coffee table.

Your living room is adorned with festive Christmas decorations. Brightly colored lights and decorations hang from the wall. Gifts are scattered under the tree, awaiting your parents' arrival later today.

It was your final attempt to prove to them that you were doing fine. Despite living in LA and struggling to make ends meet, you were determined to pursue your dream of becoming an actress. Your parents of course thought that your aspiration was foolish. They would always push you to return home and take the desk job waiting for you at the office. But no, you stayed determined. You could achieve it. You would attain it!

Even if it meant working a shitty TSA job, especially on the busiest travel day of the year, you were persistent.

You finish your yoga routine, and the sun's first light starts to peek over the horizon. You head into the bathroom for a shower. As you rinse the shampoo from your hair, a nagging feeling overcomes you that you're being watched. You pause for a moment, turning slowly to look around the room.

You're met with no signs of an intruder. There's no one inside the bathroom with you. Though the initial wave of unease passes, a sense of lingering discomfort remains.

You prepare for work, applying makeup, styling your hair up in your hair claw, and donning your uniform. Gathering your belongings, you place them into a bag. You exit your apartment and make your way to the bus stop. After climbing aboard, you make your way toward the airport.

As you enter the airport, you plaster a cheerful smile onto your face. "Good morning!" you cheerfully exclaim to the people around you. You stride to the meeting room, taking a cup with you. Approaching the coffee pot, you begin to fill your cup. As you fish out the lid from your bag, a piece of paper catches your attention. "See you soon," the words on the small yellow note read.

You furrow your brows in confusion; it was definitely a note from your kitchen. Yet, you couldn't recall writing it or being given it. Dismissing the thought, you decided it probably meant nothing. You twist the lid on your cup and walk away, placing your belongings in your employee locker before making your way to your work area, ready to start your shift.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking down. As you settle into your seat, Ethan bursts through the door with a look of urgency. You roll your eyes affectionately and shake your head, "You're getting closer each time." Jason, a friend of yours, chuckles as he slides into a seat with a remark, "That's a record."

Ethan takes a seat next to you, joined by Jason. You smile at him as you speak, congratulating him on his new addition to their family. Ethan's mouth drops slowly open with surprise. "How did you find out?" he asks, dumbfounded.

You laugh heartily, "Good news spreads fast.” Jason smiles at his friend, “I'm happy for you," he says encouragingly. Ethan turns to Jason, puzzled. "I thought you and Rochelle were taking the boys to Murrieta?" he questions. Jason nodded in affirmation. "We are. Rochelle is heading up early today. I'll join them after my shift." You playfully pout and express your wish. "I want to go on a vacation," you say wistfully.

Mr. Sarkowski calls the group together, "Listen up, everybody. It is that time of year again. We have Contraband Bingo running. Five bucks per card. No cash, no card, no exceptions. The list includes gummies, dildos, vibrators, knives, and bullets. Everything gets its square."

You shake your head as you pick up a card. "This should be fun," you say with a touch of sarcasm. You stand up and bid farewell to the guys. "See you out there, fellas." You exit the room, making your way to your position at the metal detector.

The energy in the air changed as people began to flood into the airport and gather in clusters. You turn to Lionel and grimace. "Are you ready to face the most difficult people in the world?" you ask, bracing yourself.

Lionel chuckles heartily, "Darling, no one can have a bad day with a smile like yours." You stand there, taking in Lionel's kind and encouraging words. The stress of the day slowly begins to melt away.

You watch as Ethan approaches from behind and takes a seat at the scanner. You raise your eyebrows skeptically. "So, I guess the boss is letting you test out being in charge today, huh? On Christmas Eve?" you respond, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. Ethan chuckles sheepishly, "Well, someone has to oversee the checkpoint, right?" he replies with a hint of amusement.

You respond, "Good luck to you," a slight smile on your face, as you pat his back reassuringly.

The day started normally, with the usual bag inspections happening here and there. Yet, the mood among the travelers was tense, they were all on edge. You put forth extra effort to spread some holiday cheer, brightening up their day with your infectious smile and friendly banter. You shared a few jokes with some individuals, attempting to ease the tension in the air.

You overhear Mr. Sarkowski mentioning your cheerful demeanor on a bingo card. "Looks like '(y/n) being overly cheerful' is the next item to be checked off," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ethan allows a bag through without issue, and you pass through the metal detector effortlessly. You compliment her. "I love your hairstyle," you say, particularly fond of her blue streaks. "Thanks," she replies with a smile, retrieving her belongings from the security scanner. She glances down into the scanner's sorting bin and furrows her brow. She pushes the bowl towards you, apologetically. "Um, sorry, this isn't mine," she says, with a hint of concern.

You peer inside and notice a pair of earpieces lying at the bottom of the container. It seems like someone else left them behind. You nod at her and respond, "Thanks for letting me know. Happy holidays!"

You lift the earpieces and present them to Ethan. "Lost and found?" you ask, holding up the items in question. Ethan looks at the earpieces and nods. "Yeah, lost and found," he replies.

As you prepare to place the earpieces in the designated drawer, Ethan steps in and halts you, "Hold up." He stops you in your tracks. You regard him with a puzzled expression as you watch him glance at his phone. Almost instantly, your phone vibrates deep within your back pocket. The words "left ear. now." appear on your screen, emanating from an unknown number.

You turn to Ethan, a puzzled expression on your face, as he holds out his hand and demands, "Give me the right one." You hand Ethan the right earpiece before placing the left one in your ear.

“Okay you two, today is a day that you’re going to remember for a very long time,” a voice speaks through the earpiece to you. A voice suddenly speaks through the earpiece, filling the air with a cryptic message. You glance around anxiously, searching for the origin, while Ethan appears just as lost. "But if you handle it right, you’ll have a chance to forget it," the voice continues, leaving you both baffled.

You voice a tentative greeting through the earpiece, "Hello?"

The voice echoes once more, "One bag, that’s all.” Ethan gazes at you, a puzzled expression on his face. "Excuse me?" he repeats, perplexed.

The voice asserts, "One bag. You’re going to let it through. That's the deal. That's what's gonna happen." Ethan snickers softly, "Nice try, Eddie. I hope you rap better than you prank or (y/n) and I am out two bucks each." His tone is laced with humor, and you both chuckle at the suggestion.

You observe that Eddie appears not to be the culprit. Turning to Ethan, your eyes widen with fear as you murmur, "It's not Eddie." Once more, the voice continues, "A smart one you are, (y/n). Eddie is currently in lane one, driving his inaugural Maybach.”

A wave of unease washes over you as you become increasingly aware of the gravity of the situation. "Just relax, (y/n), okay?" The traveler's voice assures you, adding, "You're too pretty to have a breakdown before noon."

The voice directly addresses Ethan, explaining the situation: "Soon, one of my associates will step into your line with a boarding pass for Northwind Flight 1850, a nonstop flight to JFK. It's your job to ensure that his bag gets through the scanner without any issues." Ethan reacts to the request with skepticism, asking, "This is a joke, right?"

The traveler's voice returns with a calm tone, asking, "Is anything I've said funny?" "No," you reply quietly, knowing that the situation is far from a joke. The voice continues, conveying a hint of frustration, "You weren't my first choice, Ethan. You're not supposed to be where you are today."

As the voice speaks your name, the words that follow send a chill down your spine. "However, (y/n), you were exactly my first choice." "Why's that?" you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation. The voice responds, "I’m a good judge of character." The gentle, reassuring tone of his words sticks in your ears, evoking a strange sense of comfort.

The thought of being observed by this mysterious individual brings forth a question: how long had he been watching you?

You gather your courage and ask the question on your mind, "What's in the bag?" The answer to your question comes from the traveler, "Diamonds out of Papua New Guinea."

Ethan's skepticism is evident as he declares, "Bullshit." The voice responds with a matter-of-fact tone, "Okay." Ethan's observation reveals his skepticism, as he remarks, "You answered too quickly."

The traveler's words strike a nerve, causing you to tense up. "Yeah, maybe that's because knowing won't change anything," the voice continues, "and I hope I don't have to execute someone close to either of you to prove it." The traveler then makes a chilling observation, speaking your name in a matter-of-fact tone, "Your family's coming in on the one p.m. flight, isn't that right, (y/n)?"

The mention of your family's arrival, coupled with the stranger's knowledge of this information, has left you frozen in your tracks. You gather the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on your mind, "Who are you?"

The man's voice maintains a nonchalantly casual tone as he continues, "I'm just a traveler headed home for the holidays, like everyone else. If we met at the grocery store, I bet we'd be having dinner with each other tonight, but we're meeting like this, and I'm telling you how this goes, sweetheart. Now, keep your voice down and do exactly as I say." Ethan interjects, seeking confirmation, "And you're watching us right now?"

The response comes through crystal clear, "Yes I am." Ethan discreetly pulls out his phone, his fingers dialing the number "9-1-1." "What am I doing?" he mutters to himself, his tension escalating. Your hopes for a quick resolution are dashed as the stranger continues their unsettling revelation, "Nora Parisi. Twenty-seven, recently promoted to manager of Northwind Operations."

You exchange a horrified glance with Ethan, both of you shaken by the stranger's comprehensive knowledge of your lives.

"Hang up now, or Nora dies," the traveler calmly states, his threat hanging heavily in the air. Ethan's shock turns to disbelief as he exclaims, "What did you say?"

The traveler calmly repeats his threat, "My people have a Barrett M82 sniper rifle pointed at her head. Hang up the call..."

Fear for your friend grips you as you rush toward Ethan's phone and hastily cancel the call, your own heart racing with anxiety. The tone of the traveler's voice is almost patronizing as he praises, "Good. See? Good judge of character. Now, take Ethan's phone and yours and lock them in the lost and found."

As you secure the phones in the lost and found bin, Ethan responds in a composed manner, "I accept. Just be cool, okay?" The traveler continues calmly listing the consequences, "Today won't be easy, but it'll be simple. When the plane departs at five forty, you are free to live your life.

If the bag gets flagged, Nora dies. If you pull my associate, your mother dies. If you talk to the police, I skin your cat. If anyone opens the bag..."

You release a sigh, acknowledging the threat with a nod. "Okay, we understand," you reply, your voice tinged with trepidation. The hint of genuine concern laces your voice as you implore, "Just please, don't hurt anyone." The line goes dead, and you can’t help but shiver a little in the aftermath of this disturbing situation. You look at each other with a mix of astonishment and anxiety.

The traveler's voice returns with a gentler tone, attempting reassurance, "I'm not going to, sweetheart. Not if you just listen to me." You nod obediently, forcing yourself to continue with your duties despite the tremors of fear that course through your body. "I'm listening," you reply, your voice quivering slightly. The traveler's voice responds, a note of satisfaction in his tone, "Good because I'm watching."

The traveler's voice interrupts, but to your surprise, he seems to be addressing you directly. "So, you were a volleyball player in college. Majored in hospitality. Now you're... a failed actress?" A mix of defensiveness and determination laces your words as you reply, "Not failed. I'm still trying."

The traveler's tone takes on a hint of condescension as he comments, "Right, right. That's cute. I could see you in some rom-com, kinda like this. Don’t you think?" You bristle at the traveler's sardonic tone, but deep down, his description hits a sore spot. He seems to be aware of your ambitions and insecurities all too well. Your response comes out more forcefully than you intended. "No. Not like this," you insist, emphasizing the fact that your hopes and dreams are not something to be mocked so lightly.

The traveler's tone becomes almost mocking as he points out details from your life, "Oh come on, your bookcase says different. So many suspenseful romances, you're practically in one right now." The realization that this man has been inside your home sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to murmur, "So you've been in my home."

“I have,” The traveler confirms your realization with a flat, matter-of-fact tone, his intrusion into your personal space adding an extra layer of discomfort to the already tense situation.

The thought of the stranger's presence in your home, potentially while you were unaware, fills you with a sense of violated space. You venture a question, your voice barely above a whisper, "Were you there this morning?" A moment of uneasy silence follows your question as the traveler contemplates his response. Finally, he speaks, his tone measured and calculated, "Did you see me?"

A chill runs down your spine as you hesitantly reveal your unease, "No, but... I felt…" Your voice trails off, unable to articulate the strange sensation of being watched. The traveler's words hit you like a slap, revealing that not only had he been in your home, but he had observed you in your most intimate moments. "You look good doing your morning yoga," he says.

The traveler's blunt comment elicits a mix of embarrassment and irritation, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks. "Shut up," you mutter, your cheeks burning with a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment.

The realization that this stranger has invaded your privacy in such a profound way is unsettling, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You can't help but feel a sense of violation as you struggle to come to terms with the knowledge that you have been watched, not only in your home but also in your most vulnerable moments.

You find yourself grappling with a torrent of emotions as the traveler's words ring in your ears. This situation, this entire scenario, is wrong and dangerous. But despite your best efforts, an image begins to form in your mind - the face to match the voice that is commanding you with such authority. In your mind, you imagine a handsome visage, strong and capable, its features framed by a determined, almost arrogant expression.

The sudden snap of a man’s fingers snaps you back to reality, causing you to jolt slightly. Shaking away the thoughts and images that had momentarily consumed you, you focus your attention on the man before you, his urgent tone snapping you back to the present moment. "Hey, come on! I’ve got somewhere to be!" he exclaims impatiently.

The traveler, as if sensing your agitation, speaks to you in a gentler tone, "You seem tense." The change in his voice is almost comforting, providing a slight respite from the mounting tension. Your response comes out as a scoff, the frustration and fear building inside you evident in your voice. "Wonder why," you reply with biting sarcasm, your tone laced with disbelief at the traveler's apparent obliviousness.

The traveler lets out a low hum of approval upon hearing your sarcastic retort. "I like women with a sense of humor," he tells you, a hint of amusement in his voice. Your frustration continues to show in the way you address the traveler, your voice laden with annoyance. "Not helping," you mutter. The traveler's attempts at humor and nonchalant banter only serve to grate on your already frayed nerves.

The traveler transitions the conversation abruptly, his tone becoming slightly more relaxed. "Then let's talk about something else. Tell me about your holiday plans," he prompts, seemingly eager to change the subject. The traveler's earlier statement about knowing everything about you comes into focus, his claim serving as a reminder of the extent of his knowledge about your life. "I thought you knew everything about me," you respond dryly, the sarcasm evident in your tone.

The traveler nonchalantly confirms your suspicion about his knowledge, revealing that he has indeed been paying close attention. "I do, but I like to hear you talk," he says, his tone dripping with subtle smugness.

You release a weary sigh, resigning yourself to the knowledge that resistance is futile. "My family is flying in for the holidays," you continue, your words tinged with a mix of resignation and anticipation. The mention of your family elicits a curious response from the traveler, his interest piqued by the casual revelation. "Are you excited?" he asks, his tone betraying a hint of intrigue.

Despite the traveler's evident interest, your response is blunt and non-committal. "Not really," you respond, your lack of enthusiasm evident in your voice. The traveler seems momentarily surprised by your response, a hint of disappointment creeping into his tone. "Why not?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by your nonchalant attitude towards the upcoming holiday.

Your honest response reflects the strain between you and your family, the traveler sensing the disappointment and hurt hidden beneath your words. "Because they just think I’m wasting my time," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation and a hint of bitterness.

The traveler, now aware of the strained relationship with your family, lets out a soft hum of understanding, his tone sympathetic. "That can’t be easy," he remarks, his words laced with unexpected empathy.

The traveler's question takes you by surprise, his interest in your career ambitions evident in his words. "So tell me, what's your plan? Name in the big lights?" he inquires, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and... admiration.

The words flow easily from your lips, the passion and determination evident in your voice as you share your earliest dreams and ambitions. "I’ve wanted to be an actress since I was little. Nothing else has ever really caught my attention," you explain, your words filled with a mixture of determination and nostalgia.

You glance over at Ethan, noting the way he subtly speaks into his Apple Watch. A flicker of curiosity mingled with a hint of intrigue passes over your features as you attempt to piece together the situation. Ethan continues speaking, his voice steady and controlled. "They got dogs and..." he murmurs, his words trailing off meaningfully.

The realization hits you like a wave, causing a surge of fear and uncertainty to wash over you. Not only are you worried for your safety, but now you also feel a strange sense of attachment to the unknown traveler on the other line, and the thought of potentially losing this connection with him is strangely unsettling.

Confusion and conflict wage a silent battle within you, your mind a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts. The traveler's voice breaks through the chaos in your mind, his words both surprising and oddly reassuring. "Let's cancel the text," he suggests calmly, a hint of authority in his voice.

You release a heavy sigh of mixed relief and regret as you watch Ethan cancel the text. Despite the uncertainty that gnaws at your insides, you can't help but feel a strange sense of reassurance in the traveler's words and tone.

The traveler's voice carries a hint of urgency and authority as he addresses Ethan, his words demanding immediate compliance. "Attaboy. Now, stand up walk over to the drawer, and put the watch in there next to your phone. We're off to a real bad start here," he dictates, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

The traveler's voice turns to Ethan again as he questions his trustworthiness. "This won't work if I can't trust you. Understand?"

Ethan, ever the realist, nods in response, his words carrying a sense of grim determination. "You can trust me," he assures.

The traveler's question lingers in the air, his attention now solely focused on you. "What about you, honey? Can I trust you?" he repeats, his voice almost gentle, as if seeking a glimpse into your soul.

The words leave your lips with such ease and honesty that it almost surprises you. "Yes. You can trust me," you assure him confidently, your voice conveying a mix of sincerity and a sense of loyalty. You can't explain why, but you genuinely believe that you and the traveler are on the same side.

The traveler's voice carries an undercurrent of warning as he continues to address both you and Ethan, his words a stern reminder. "Now, I've given you two warnings, and the next time, there's gonna be consequences. Do you understand me?"

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a sense of finality and seriousness seeping through. Despite the fear that lingers, you can feel a sense of commitment to following his instructions and living up to your promise of trust.

The traveler's words, addressed directly to you, hold a hint of condescension mixed with genuine concern. "You're smart (y/n). Yet, you still seem unhappy. You can steal what happiness you can when you can. Or just stay on autopilot for the rest of your life. I can help you with that."

His words cut straight to the core of your struggles and insecurities, a sharp reminder of the dissatisfaction that gnaws at you daily. Yet, there's a subtle glimmer of understanding and a hint of a challenge in his voice, as if he sees something in you that you haven't fully recognized yourself.

Your mind works diligently to piece together the puzzle of the traveler's surroundings, using the subtle background sounds as your guide. As the sounds coalesce into a coherent picture, your gaze scans the bar, searching for a familiar face.

Then, your eyes come to rest on a man sitting at the bar, wearing a black jacket and a black baseball cap. It could be a coincidence, but something about him catches your attention. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his solitary form, the subtle details of his attire matching your mental image of the traveler.

The question leaves your lips, with curiosity, and a hint of suspicion in your tone. "What are you trying to say?" you ask, your gaze unwavering as you try to gauge the traveler's intentions and the significance of the man at the bar.

The moment hangs in the air, the tension palpable as you await his response and the revelation of his hidden motives.

The stranger's words echo in your mind, a mix of flattery and pragmatism in his tone. "You're smart. You know, the smart ones find a job that pays the most money for the least amount of work. And they spend the rest of their time doing whatever makes them happy."

You can't help but think that he knows you even better than you know yourself. His observation feels uncanny as if he's peering into your innermost thoughts and desires. You find yourself considering his words, the truth of his statement resonating with your own yearning for a better work-life balance.

The question slips from your lips, an attempt to gain insight into the traveler's own philosophy and lifestyle. "Is that what you do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued by the idea that this stranger has it all figured out.

You await his response with anticipation, eager to hear if his advice is based on personal experience and whether his words hold any truth or hypocrisy. The stranger's words, spoken with a hint of confidence and a touch of invitation, leave you momentarily speechless. "I think you'd be surprised with how well I live. I could show you," he says.

For a moment, you are captivated by the possibility of glimpsing into this mysterious stranger's world, a world that seems so different from your own mundane reality. Curiosity and a hint of intrigue battle within you.

Ethan's sudden intervention snaps you out of your reverie, his actions stopping the moving belt and prompting your confused question. "What are you doing?" you ask, frustration creeping into your tone as you try to make sense of his actions.

Your furrowed brows betray your confusion, your attention now fully directed towards Ethan and his unexpected interference. The frustrated passenger's voice cuts through the tense atmosphere, his impatience evident in every word. "Does it take a doctorate to read a computer screen? Let's go," he repeats, his tone tinged with irritation.

Ethan, seemingly unfazed by the passenger's impatience, calmly slides the man's bag down to you. "Bag check," he mutters, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your hand reaches for the bag, the weight of the responsibility evident in your movements, but they are slow. You wanted to avoid opening the bag.

Ethan addresses the man with a professional tone, requesting to see his boarding pass. "Sir, could I see your boarding pass, please?" he asks.

The man in front of you nods, pulling out his boarding pass and passing it over to Ethan without any hesitation. The tension in the air grows as you await the outcome of the interaction.

Ethan speaks with a professional tone, addressing the man by name. "Mr. Herter, I need to conduct a quick inspection. If you prefer, we can use a private room."

Ethan's decision to inspect a public area puts the entire situation at risk, the potential consequences hanging heavily in the air. The traveler's urgency and impatience only exacerbate the predicament, adding another layer of tension to the already tense scenario.

Ethan's gaze falls upon you, as he watches your actions, waiting for you to open the man's bag. However, you stand frozen, paralyzed by fear and disappointment at the traveler's silent reproach. Your hand hovers over the bag's zipper, but your heart races, and your mind races with conflicting thoughts.

Your voice trembles with anxiety and uncertainty as you express your doubts about the necessity of the inspection. "I really don't think it's necessary," you murmur, your words tinged with fear and a trace of defiance. Ethan's eyes don't leave you, his gaze locked onto your face.

Ethan pushes the bag down further, his tone firm but professional. "In that case, I'll have a law enforcement officer run your boarding pass while I search. It'll save time," he states.

As you observe the scene unfold, you notice Lionel using a black light to scan the boarding pass. You watch with growing curiosity as the words appear, invisible to the naked eye until illuminated by the black light. "Sneaky sneaky," you think to yourself, the cleverness of the hidden message sinking in.

Your mind is conflicting with itself, torn between the fear of the traveler being caught and the strange feeling of wanting to protect him. "He's a criminal," you remind yourself, "He should be caught." Yet, despite that, there's a part of you that strangely doesn't want that to happen. Your emotions are a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty.

Your frustration bursts forth in a forceful question directed at Ethan, your emotions running high. "What the fuck, Ethan?" you demand, your voice betraying a mix of irritation and worry. You're still trying to process the events that unfolded, the conflicting emotions and thoughts swirling inside you.

Ethan's casual shrug only adds fuel to your frustration, his nonchalant attitude seemingly at odds with the seriousness of the situation. "You're acting like this isn't a big deal," you point out, your voice tinged with annoyance.

You attempt to justify your perspective, "I just know how to follow the rules. You're going to get someone hurt," you argue, your concern evident in your words. Ethan's lax attitude towards protocol and the potential consequences of his actions is infuriating and alarming.

The traveler's voice filters through, his words carrying a mix of intrigue and allegory. "There's a story I once heard about a tribe in the Serengeti…" he begins, drawing your attention to the story he's recounting.

As you listen, you also notice the sound of movement in the background, as if the stranger is walking around the crowded area, apologizing to people as he passes by. "Excuse me," he casually says, his voice almost lost amidst the hustle and bustle of the airport.

The traveler's voice continues, painting a vivid and unsettling picture. "So, when night fell, they crept into the man's hut and slit the throats of all three children." His words hang heavily in the air, the story's violent turn chilling you to the core.

Suddenly, a woman's scream pierces the air, causing a ripple of panic to spread throughout the area. Lionel collapses to the ground, and the scene devolves into chaos, with people calling for a doctor. Amongst it all, you catch a glimpse of a man in a black jacket and hat, the realization hitting you like a shot.

The man stands up, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment, his smirk sending a shiver down your spine. “We need a doctor!” He calls out in false panic. It was him, the man you had been talking to all this time. He slowly begins to walk away from the chaos, leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. You watch him leave, the confusion and shock evident on your face, his smirk lingering in your mind like a haunting memory.

The urge to follow the man, to go with him, is stronger than you expected, his presence having created a strange connection in your mind. His fearlessness, his way with words, and his commanding demeanor make him seem almost unreal, like a character straight out of a book you've read. You debate with yourself, torn between the instinct to run and the inexplicable desire to be with him.

The airport staff swiftly removes you from your station in the wake of the commotion. Sarkowski, your supervisor, instructs you to take a break, suggesting you grab a coffee or take a walk. You comply, still feeling shaken and shocked by the event, and the thought of taking a break to clear your head seems like a good idea.

As you follow Sarkowski's instructions, you can't help but think about Lionel, and the fact that he was such a kind man, always looking out for everyone, even you. You feel a mix of sadness and disbelief as the weight of what happened starts to sink in.

You're walking towards the break room to try and gather your thoughts when suddenly, you find yourself pulled into a nearby storage room. The door closes and locks behind you, your back pressed against the hard surface of a body, their hand covering your mouth, muffling any sound.

Fear and panic well up within you as you're unable to move or speak, your heart racing with the realization that you're trapped in a vulnerable position.

The voice of the traveler, now identified as the man who had pulled you into the storage room, speaks softly into your ear, his tone calm and almost soothing.

"Relax," he whispers, his words carrying a hint of reassurance. You feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and despite the circumstances, a strange sense of comfort washes over you, the panic within fading slightly.

The traveler, his hand still firmly covering your mouth, asks you calmly, "I'm going to remove my hand. Are you going to scream?"

You feel the pressure slightly lessen, yet his hand remains in place, waiting for your response. The urge to call out for help lingers in the back of your mind, but a strange sense of trust in him holds you back.

You manage to shake your head slightly, the movement barely perceptible, but still conveying your intention to stay compliant. Your heart continues to pound in your chest as you await his next move, a mix of anticipation and tension coursing through you.

The traveler seems satisfied with your response, his hand slowly lifting away from your mouth, though you can feel his body remaining close to your back.

The traveler's voice breaks the silence, a tone of concern evident in his words, "You alright?"

You can sense the sincerity in his question, and a moment of realization washes over you. This man, who had just pulled you into a storage room, was asking if you were alright. Your mind grapples with the conflicting emotions coursing through you.

The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them, a mix of accusation, anger, and confusion present in your tone. "You... killed him."

The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air, the atmosphere in the small storage room practically suffocating. The tension rises as you await his response, your emotions conflicting with the strange bond you've established with this stranger.

You manage to turn around to face him, creating a small distance between the two of you. The storage room suddenly feels even more cramped, the air thick with tension. Your eyes meet his, a mixture of confusion, fear, and curiosity swirling in your gaze.

The stranger regards you with a cool, almost casual demeanor, his eyes studying you intently as if trying to gauge your reactions.

The stranger's words, spoken with a hint of nonchalance, leave you stunned and confused. "I don't know about that," he says, his tone matter-of-fact, "Ethan knew the simple rules."

You struggle to comprehend the words he's saying, the nonchalance in his delivery not matching the gravity of his actions.

The stranger's response, a simple admission of his normalcy, catches you off guard. "I'm not some cartoon villain. I'm just a regular guy," he reiterates, his words tinged with a hint of vulnerability and almost... honesty.

His statement, so different from the image of a cold-blooded killer, leaves you bewildered. You struggle to reconcile this seemingly ordinary man with the events that have unfolded.

His features, now so close to you, appear more defined and complex. His sharp, blue eyes, framed by a straight nose and slightly disheveled hair creeping past the edges of the black cap, create a captivating visage.

You can't help but stare at him, your gaze taking in every detail, trying to discern the depths beneath the surface.

The corners of the man's lips curl upward, forming a subtle smirk. He can see you studying his features, and the smirk in his eyes suggests that he doesn't mind the attention.

You break eye contact, realizing you've spent too long studying his features. With a glance away, you attempt to recover your composure, trying to hide the fact that you find him intriguing.

The man's fingers, gentle yet firm, guide your face back towards him, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. As your eyes meet his, a strange mix of feelings washes over you - fear, curiosity, and a strange sense of connection, as if his gaze holds some sort of power over you.

He stares deeply into your eyes as if searching for something, the silence in the storage room almost deafening. The soft question escapes your lips, the single word hanging in the air with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. "What?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

The stranger doesn't answer immediately, his gaze holding onto yours as if he's carefully considering his next words or actions. His fingers remain on your chin, his touch feeling both soothing and electrifying at the same time. There's a strange intimacy in this moment, a connection that defies logic and reason.

His words, spoken with a hint of tenderness and concern, make your heart flutter slightly. "Just making sure it’s okay," he repeats, his tone filled with a subtle s incerity.

As you look into his blue eyes, you can't help but feel a mix of unease and attraction. Part of you wants to pull away, to free yourself from his grip, but another part of you craves the intimacy of his gentle touch.

Before you can even react, the stranger's lips are on yours in a sudden rush of emotion, capturing your lips in a surprisingly gentle yet fervent kiss. The kiss is intense, filled with a mix of urgency and a strange tenderness.

Your eyes widen in surprise as the kiss sends a jolt of electricity through your body, the sensation both unexpected and exhilarating.

For a moment, the world around you fades away, replaced by the feeling of his lips against yours, his hand still cradling the side of your face. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, and your entire world seems to narrow down to this one brief connection, as if time and space have ceased to exist.

The soft moan that escapes your lips, a sound of both surrender and pleasure, seems to fuel the passion in the kiss. You allow yourself to lean into him, the contact between your bodies both comforting and intoxicating.

The stranger responds by deepening the kiss, his hand on your face moving to the back of your head, pulling you closer to his strong frame.

The intensity of the kiss grows as he pulls you closer, his hand now woven through your hair, holding you securely against him. The stranger's body presses against yours, the closeness and the heat between you both sending a wave of electricity coursing through you.

Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions, a mixture of confusion, confusion, and a strange sense of surrender. You feel both out of control and strangely secure in his embrace.

The stranger's words, spoken against your lips in a low, rough whisper, break the spell of the kiss. Even amidst the intensity of the moment, you can sense a hint of reluctance in his voice as he speaks to someone you can't see.

"Alright, alright," he murmurs, his tone a mix of annoyance and resignation. You feel his lips linger against yours for a moment longer before he slowly pulls back, leaving you feeling both bewildered and wanting more.

The stranger's words ring through the air, a mix of encouragement and a hint of endearment. "Stay sharp. Days almost over, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice slightly softer than before.

Despite the casualness in his tone, the nickname "sweetheart" resonates within you, adding another layer of confusion to the mix of emotions swirling inside you. You can't help but feel a mix of disappointment and curiosity as he prepares to leave, the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips.

He disappears as quickly as he has arrived, leaving you standing in the small storage room, your mind reeling from the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. The memory of his kiss, the touch of his body, and the sound of his voice linger in your mind, the events of the past minutes playing over and over again in your head.

You're left with a swirling mix of confusion, arousal, and an inexplicable desire to see him again, the mysterious stranger leaving you with more questions than answers.

The coffee in your hand feels strangely comforting, a small reminder of normalcy amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

You try to rationalize his actions, convincing yourself that it must have been nothing more than a distraction. The kiss was likely a means to take your mind off the situation, to throw you off balance. But despite your attempts to dismiss it, the feel of his lips against yours, and the memory of his touch, refuse to fade from your mind.

You return to your place at the bag check, outwardly appearing composed and focused, but inwardly, your mind is preoccupied.

Jason approaches, taking a seat at the scanner nearby, and you can't help but furrow your brow, something about his presence makes you feel on edge. You question him about Ethan's absence, curiosity piqued.

"Isn't Ethan scanning?" you ask, your voice filled with a mix of confusion and suspicion. Jason replies with a matter-of-fact tone, explaining that Sarkowski instructed him to take over for Ethan. His words hang in the air, yet the sense of unease doesn't fade.

The thought crosses your mind, a sense of uncertainty creeping in. If Ethan isn't on the scanner, how is the bag going to go through without issue?

Your eyes dart around, searching for the traveler, and you spot him a noticeable distance from Ethan. The suspicion grows, and you speak into your earpiece, a sense of urgency in your voice.

"We've got a problem," you murmur, your words barely carrying through the earpiece.

The traveler halts in his tracks, turning to look at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. Then, he responds with a hint of amusement, a mixture of humor and sarcasm in his voice. "Are we fighting already?" he asks, his words carrying a subtle challenge.

Your words hang in the air, “Ethan’s been kicked off the scanner.” The stranger's gaze remains on you, his eyes flicking to the scanner where Jason sits and back, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

“Then I guess Ethan’s got a problem to fix,” The stranger's words hang in the air with a touch of sarcasm, yet there's a hint of concern in the undertone. His gaze lingers on you, as if waiting for your next move or any other piece of information you may have to offer. The clock seems to tick slower as the tension builds, the weight of the situation pressing on your shoulders.

Ethan returns to the area, having received the instruction to return to the scanner. You shake your head, your words a firm reminder. "You have to get back on the scanner," you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument.

The low, smooth voice of the stranger reaches your ears, his words causing a strange flutter in your chest. "That's my girl," he murmurs, the praise and endearment in his tone sending a wave of conflicting emotions through you. Your cheeks warm slightly, and you try to hide your response, though he seems to have noticed your reaction, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

The stranger's words, addressed to both you and Ethan, carry a hint of warning and a subtle threat. "She's right, you know?" he says, his tone a mix of amusement and a hint of concern. "If you're not on that machine by the time our man gets there, you're in breach. Then maybe I don't start with Nora," he continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone, the mention of Nora adding a note of weight to his words.

Ethan's response to the stranger's words is immediate, his voice filled with defiance. "I don't care what you do to me," he declares, a stubborn determination evident in his tone. The stranger's gaze lingers on Ethan, his expression unreadable, his reaction masked by a neutral façade.

The stranger's words carry a hint of threat, yet they're also tinged with a strange sense of compassion. "Who said anything about you?" he retorts, his eyes locked on Ethan, the tension between them palpable. "Your friend there is coming off the machine. You can decide if it happens your way or mine," he repeats, emphasizing Ethan's choice in the matter, a subtle way of manipulating the situation and Ethan's actions.

Ethan, quick to react, swiftly devises a plan, framing Jason for drinking on the job. The wheels in his mind spin, and he effectively places himself back on the scanner, his quick thinking and manipulation skills coming into play. Despite the strange situation, you can't help but be impressed by his ability to adapt and think on his feet.

The stranger's voice filters through your earpiece, his instructions clear and concise. "Red baseball cap, three o'clock, by the bins. That's our guy," he murmurs, his tone serious and focused. Your eyes dart to the specified location, your gaze falling on the man with the red baseball cap by the bins, the subject of the stranger's words.

Ethan's question, "There are 250 people on that flight. You gonna kill 250 people?" is met with the stranger's chilling response, a simple and matter-of-fact "Mmm-hmm." The words hang heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in. You can't help but feel a chill run down your spine, the reality of the threat setting in and the weight of the stranger's words leaving a foreboding feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Ethan's question, "Why are you doing this?" echoes in the air, seeking an answer from the stranger. The stranger looks at Ethan, his gaze unflinching, his expression unreadable.

Your voice interjects, defending the stranger against Ethan's accusation. "He's not the doer, Ethan," you say with conviction, your words carrying a note of certainty. You can feel the stranger's gaze on you, his eyes studying your reaction.

As the stranger's words linger in the air, a question forms in your mind: What is this payment the stranger is talking about? You can't help but wonder what could be his purpose behind it, and more intriguingly, his interest in you. Is he working for someone, and if so, who? The idea that your involvement might be a part of his plan sends a chill down your spine, but at the same time, there's a strange sense of anticipation that gnaws at you, an unexplainable curiosity about your role in all this.

Your mind churns with questions, your thoughts attempting to make sense of the stranger's actions. Were you simply there to ensure the bag didn't get searched, or was there a deeper purpose to his presence and connection to you? You can't help but wonder if there's more to his actions, his interest in you, and his involvement with this entire situation.

The uncertainty and the unknown fuel your curiosity, yet also stirs a sense of unease within you.

The man with the red baseball cap passes through, his bag rolling smoothly onto the conveyor belt. Ethan, his gaze fixed on the screen, seems uneasy.

You allow the bag to pass with a polite smile, wishing him a pleasant day, but underneath it all, your thoughts are consumed by the tension in the air. Your actions seem normal on the surface, but inside, you're grappling with the knowledge of what's hidden within the bag and the implications of letting it through unchecked.

"I have something stronger if you need it," A quiet, gentle voice breaks the silence, offering a solution to your headache. You look up, finding the stranger standing a short distance away, his eyes watching you intently.

Your voice carries a hint of exhaustion mixed with curiosity, your tone slightly defensive as you question him. "What do you want now?" you ask, your words carrying a mixture of weariness and intrigue.

The stranger's lips curve into a subtle smirk, his eyes seemingly studying your every reaction. He takes a step closer, his gaze unflinching, as if he can see straight through you.

The stranger's response is casual yet tinged with a subtle hint of intimacy. "Well, I was going to keep you company on your lunch," he says, his tone almost indifferent yet also carrying a touch of tenderness.

His words catch you off guard. Keeping you company is unexpected, but there's a part of you that doesn't dislike the idea. You can't deny the strange connection you feel towards him, a connection that seems to defy rationality and reason.

You question him, your words tinged with a touch of sarcasm but also tinged with a hint of challenge, "Do I have a choice?"

The stranger chuckles softly, his gaze fixed on you. He leans against the lockers, his body language casual but his eyes sharp and observant, as if he's carefully studying your response. The stranger's tone is firm and matter-of-fact as he responds with a single word. "No."

His definitive answer lingers in the air, the lack of ambiguity in his tone making it clear that he has no intention of giving you a choice in the matter. Despite his sternness, however, there's a subtle glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as if he's enjoying the subtle power dynamic at play.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of determination and a subtle challenge as you state, "You're buying."

The stranger looks at you, his smirk growing slightly as he nods in agreement. "Fair enough," he says, his tone holding a hint of amusement. It seems like he's accepting your demand, a small concession to your assertiveness.

You both sit across from each other in silent anticipation, your lunch in front of you untouched. The air between you is filled with a strange blend of curiosity and anticipation.

The stranger's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes scanning your face, studying your expression. He seems to be waiting for you to break the silence, to make the first move in this unusual lunch encounter.

You hum softly, your head tilting in a nod of acknowledgment. There's a moment of silence that follows as if both of you are gathering your thoughts. The stranger's eyes are fixed on you, his expression calm yet somewhat unreadable, as if he's trying to gauge your reaction to his cryptic statement about his occupation.

He regards you thoughtfully, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. "You can ask, you know?" he repeats, his tone a mix of curiosity and a subtle challenge.

Your eyes meet his in a silent exchange. It's as if he's inviting you to question him, to dig deeper. You can feel a strange sense of anticipation, a mix of curiosity and doubt filling your mind as you consider whether or not to press him further.

You hesitate, your words carrying a mix of uncertainty and a hint of intrigue. "I don't know if I want to," you admit, your tone tinged with a touch of wariness. The stranger's lips curve into a slight smirk, a subtle amusement in his eyes.

“If you don’t know, then I can’t do it again, and if you don’t ask, I can’t tell you.” The stranger's words hang in the air, the simplicity of them yet hinting at a deeper layer. He leaves the decision in your hands, allowing you to choose whether to pursue this deeper connection or not.

His challenge lingers, a quiet demand for you to make a choice. You're left wondering if you want to take the next step, to learn more about this mysterious stranger and his cryptic job, or if you'd rather keep the distance between you.

You admit, "I am curious, anyone would be," your words carrying a sense of vulnerability.

The stranger's eyes are on yours, his expression tinged with a hint of pride as if he's pleased with your admission. He leans forward slightly, his gaze unwavering, waiting for your next question.

The remainder of the unexpected kiss sends a shiver down your spine, the memory of his lips flooding your mind. You speak softly, your words tinged with a mix of confusion and intrigue. "You... kissed me."

The stranger doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of amusement and anticipation. In the quiet, he waits for your next move, eager to see where this conversation leads.

Your comment hangs in the air, the weight of the moment evident in the silence that follows. The stranger's eyes hold yours, the intensity of his gaze making it clear that he's waiting for your next words, or possibly your next action.

It's almost as if the entire world has stopped, the only sound being the beating of your heart in your chest.

The stranger's lips curve into a slight smirk, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, I did, and you liked it," he says, his tone almost challenging, as if daring you to deny the truth in his words.

The warmth of embarrassment creeps up your cheeks, his words hitting their mark, leaving you feeling flustered. The stranger's smirk widens as he watches you, a chuckle escaping him, amused by your reaction.

He leans back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with the effect his words have had on you. For now, he enjoys the silent moment, giving you time to recompose yourself.

The question hangs in the air like a cloud of curiosity, your voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a genuine desire to understand. "Why did you?" you ask, your words holding a touch of vulnerability.

The stranger's smirk softens into a subtle smile, his eyes studying yours intently as if considering his next words. He leans forward slightly, his voice carrying a subtle edge of sincerity. "It was a moment of impulse," he admits, a hint of vulnerability peeking out from beneath his usual demeanor.

“How long have you been watching me?”

The stranger's eyes flicker with a mix of emotions, his gaze holding yours with a depth and intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. He considers your question for a moment as if assessing whether or not to be completely transparent with you.

"A while," he finally answers, his tone a mixture of honesty and mystery. He holds your gaze, waiting to see how you'll respond to this revelation.

Your question, "What's your plan here?" hangs in the air, your curiosity and uncertainty evident in your tone, “besides getting a bag in a plane.” The stranger leans back in his chair, a thoughtful look in his eyes as if pondering how much to reveal.

His response comes a moment later, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and a strange sincerity. "I'm still figuring that out," he admits, his words leaving you to wonder about his intentions and goals. “It really depends on you.”

Your question, "Me? What do I have to do with this?" echoes in the air, your curiosity and confusion evident in your voice. The stranger's expression softens, his gaze locking onto yours as if seeking understanding and cooperation.

The stranger's words, "Your answer. When this is all over I'd like to know if you'd get that dinner with me I mentioned earlier," hang lightly in the air. His tone is nonchalant as if he's simply curious about your response.

His words, though seemingly casual, carry a depth of sincerity that can't be ignored. He watches you, his eyes fixed on your face, as if waiting for an answer, or a sign that you'll accept his proposal.

“You’re going to murder 300 people and you’re asking me to dinner?” The stranger chuckles dryly at your statement, the sound a mix of amusement and acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. "Yes," he responds, his tone carrying a mix of sincerity and a hint of dry humor.

He seems unfazed by the contradiction as if he's fully aware of the dark nature of his actions and the paradoxical nature of his proposal. His gaze remains fixed on you, waiting for your response, the tension in the air palpable.

“Why me?”

The stranger studies you for a moment, his gaze unwavering. He seems to be searching for the right words, his expression hinting at a mix of intrigue and sincerity.

"Why not you?" he finally responds, his tone carrying a subtle mix of admiration and mystery.

The stranger's words echo in the air, the admission of knowledge about your home and personal details taking you by surprise. It's unsettling to realize that he knows so much about you, yet his expression remains calm and his tone remains casual.

The stranger's presence and the knowledge he has of you are strangely disquieting, the familiarity he shows is both intriguing and unnerving at the same same time. He seems to share some similarities with you, the revelation leaving you feeling a mixture of curiosity and caution.

“I’m going to assume you have my number.” The stranger's eyes follow you as you stand up, his gaze unwavering. Despite the mysterious aura surrounding him, his expression holds a hint of disappointment, as if he had hoped for a different response. He seems to take a moment to process your words, a mix of curiosity and contemplation evident in his eyes.

He nods slightly, acknowledging your statement, his lips curving into a slight, almost enigmatic smirk. "I do have your number," he affirms, his tone calm and almost nonchalant, hiding any deeper feelings he may have.

“Well when you get done here, see if it works. Might surprise you.”

The stranger watches you with a mix of amusement and a subtle challenge in his eyes.

Despite his confidence and power, he seems to appreciate your assertiveness and the way you hold your own.

He responds with a nod, his smirk growing slightly, his tone carrying just a hint of amusement and anticipation. "I will," he says, his words holding a subtle promise of future contact.

You walk away with a smirk, feeling the weight of the stranger's gaze on your back. The mixture of curiosity, uncertainty, and anticipation lingers in the air, leaving you with questions and a tingle down your spine.

As you leave, his eyes follow you, his gaze lingering on you, as if committing your form and your subtle smirk to memory. He seems to find your assertiveness and confidence intriguing, and a subtle smirk plays upon his lips, a mixture of respect and fascination in his gaze.

You return to your position at the checkpoint, only to find several LAPD officers filing in, their presence unexpected. Your gaze flicks to Ethan, confusion etched on your face. You ask him, "Did you say anything?" your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

Ethan shakes his head in response, his eyes fixed on the officers. He seems puzzled by their arrival as much as you are, and his confusion is evident in his expression.

The announcement rings out through the checkpoint, the TSA's words echoing in the air, their message clear and firm.

The words "random bag checks" hang in the air, adding a new layer of uncertainty and anxiety to the already tense atmosphere. You watch as people react with apprehension and confusion, their eyes glancing around them in frustration, wondering if they'll be selected for a check.

Sarkowski, the supervisor, swiftly becomes flustered by the turn of events, his voice carrying a tone of urgency. "Everyone meet in the office. Right now!" he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The employees scramble into action, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry. They know the importance of following Sarkowski's instructions, and they quickly gather in the office, their gazes fixed on him as they wait for further explanation.

The stranger's voice comes through your earpiece, his words carrying a tone of anticipation and a hint of tenderness. "Walk slowly, honey. I need my eyes," he murmurs, his voice a quiet but noticeable contrast to the tense atmosphere in the office. You feel a shiver run down your spine, the combination of his words and the strange tenderness in his voice causing a mix of confusion and anticipation to swirl within you.

You follow the stranger's instruction, your eyes seeking out the room on the left. Your gaze lands on a room tucked away, seemingly out of sight from the main activity.

"Alright, see that room on the left?"

You nod as you walk ensuring that you understand which room he means. Your body is tensed, your voice full of anticipation and a touch of excitement, despite the circumstances.

“Go inside,” the stranger's words a quiet command that you follow without hesitation. With a glance around to ensure no one is watching, you quietly make your way toward the room on the left. Your heart beats a little faster, a mix of anticipation and caution coursing through your veins as you approach the room.

You enter the room and close the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place filling the room with a sense of privacy. As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, you see the stranger standing there, his presence dominating the space. The room feels claustrophobic and intimate, the air between you charged with tension and anticipation.

The stranger studies you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation, his eyes flicking over your face as if taking in every detail. There's a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and his gaze lingers on you for a moment, almost as if he's enjoying this moment of anticipation. The silence in the room is heavy, the only sound being the steady beating of your heart in your chest.

He leans closer, his body pressed close to yours. The warmth of his breath tickles your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His words, "You're a brave woman, defying the rules just for me. I like that," send a wave of anticipation through you, and his lips brush against your ear, causing a surge of pleasure to surge through your body.

You feel trapped, the weight of his body and the closeness of his presence stirring something within you.

Your heart raced as his hand slid up your waist, his touch sending waves of heat through your body. You wanted to resist, to ask more questions, but all you could do was gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his mouth claiming yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting of sin and temptation. You felt his hand slip into your pants, his fingers skillfully working your wetness. You moaned into his mouth, unable to resist the pleasure he was offering.

His fingers teased your clit, circling and rubbing, driving you wild. You squirmed in your seat, desperate for more. He broke the kiss, his breath hot on your neck. "I want you, right here, right now," he growled, his voice filled with desire.

You couldn't deny the raw hunger in his words. With trembling hands, you unbuttoned your blouse, revealing your lace bra. He pulled it down, exposing your breasts. His mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking and teasing, while his fingers continued their magic between your legs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your body arching as an intense orgasm ripped through you. He didn't let up, his fingers working you relentlessly, milking every last drop of pleasure. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

"That's just a taste of what I can give you," he whispered, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "But you have to be quiet." You leaned back, your body trembling. You wanted more, but you also feared the consequences. "Who are you?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

He smiled, his eyes full of mystery. "I told you, I’m just a regular guy." You couldn't shake the feeling that you had just embarked on a dangerous and exhilarating path. The man's touch, his words, and the thrill of the forbidden had awakened something primal within you. You wanted to know more, to uncover his secrets, even if it meant dancing with danger.

He presses his lips to yours, the kiss slow and sensual, leaving you with a flutter in your stomach. Then, with a subtle smirk, he buttons up your shirt, his nimble fingers working efficiently to correct your indiscretion. Once done, he unlocks the door and pushes you out.

His lips curve into a slight smile, his eyes holding a mix of amusement and affection as he watches you go. He knows he has left you with a mix of confusion, anticipation, and a lingering sense of pleasure.

You re-enter the meeting room, finding it nearly empty as the meeting appears to be over. Ethan's eyes narrow at you, his gaze intense and filled with suspicion, as if he can sense that something is off about you.

You feel the weight of his gaze on you, the suspicion in his eyes making you slightly uneasy. Despite your attempt to maintain a cool exterior, you can't help but feel slightly exposed, as if he can see right through you and detect the effects of the stranger's touch still lingering on you.

You grab your MDT and log in, your fingers moving swiftly over the keys as you access the list of people with flagged bags. As the list appears on the screen, your eyes scan the names, and you see that 50 people are marked for bag checks.

Your mind immediately switches into professional mode, the task at hand demanding your focus. You begin to navigate through the list, planning and prioritizing the checks based on your training and protocol. All bags besides the one you would make sure would board.

The woman's voice over the PA system announces the random bag checks, listing off the names of the selected passengers. Carrie Pierce, Cameron Figgs, Mateo Flores, and Alison Mallory are among those called to have their bags checked. You can't help but notice the list, the one particular names of passengers echoing in your mind. It was the associate.

You turn to Ethan, your tone tinged with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "Ethan, what did you do?" you ask, your eyes narrowed slightly as you study his face for any signs of guilt.

He shakes his head, his response firm and defiant. "Nothing," he insists, his eyes locking onto yours as he denies any involvement. "I didn't move." He stares at you with suspicion, his gaze searching for any indication of your involvement.

"Why'd they pull my guy?" the traveler asks, a touch of impatience in his tone.

Ethan responds calmly, "It's a lottery system." His words are confident, but you can sense a hint of tension beneath the surface.

You call him out, your gaze fixed on him with a mix of suspicion. "You're lying," you assert, your voice filled with conviction.

Ethan looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of defiance and a subtle challenge. He doesn't deny your accusation, his silence speaking louder than words.

Ethan leaves his position, his movements rushed and determined. You notice his departure, your instincts telling you that something is off. You follow him, your steps hurried and deliberate.

As you chase after him, you try to catch his attention, trying to stop him from ruining whatever plan may be in motion. You can feel the tension building, your thoughts racing as you try to anticipate his actions.

As you rush after Ethan, you feel a strong grip on your arm, a firm tug pulling you back. You turn, finding yourself pulled against the traveler's chest, his hand gently holding onto your wrist.

"Stop, stop," he whispers, his voice a gentle command that sends a shiver down your spine. His tone is both soothing and assertive, a mixture of insistence and concern.

The traveler speaks, his tone is soft but firm, his words a mix of reassurance and a request. He holds your wrist gently, his eyes searching yours, a silent plea for cooperation in his gaze.

His words, "I'll handle him, but I need you, to just go back and do your job. Can you do that for me, honey?" hang in the air, a mixture of trust and a subtle command. You can feel the weight of his request, and the implications of his words sink in.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your head as he whispers, "That's my girl. Days almost done." The words linger in the air, a mix of encouragement and something else that you can't quite place. As he pulls away, his fingers delicately removing your earpiece, you feel a strange mix of anticipation and vulnerability.

The weight of the moment lingers, his actions leaving you with a mix of anticipation and a subtle flutter in your chest.

Your thoughts, consumed by the stranger, make it increasingly challenging to maintain your professional demeanor. The anticipation of seeing him again, the concern for his safety, and the strange sense of connection you feel all swirl within you.

You can feel the effect he has on you, how he has taken over your thoughts and consumed your mind. The need to see him again grows stronger, an almost primal desire to be near him again.

A quiet, but insistent, voice breaks the silence, capturing your attention. A detective from the LAPD stands beside Sarkowski, their tone is urgent and professional. The words, "I need a line to LAX Security Tower and I need to talk to Ethan Kopek," fill the air, their gravity clear.

Sarkowski turns to you, his gaze inquisitive and expectant. "Where's Ethan?" he asks, his tone tinged with impatience and concern. You can feel the weight of their stares, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for your response.

Your mouth opens, but for a moment, no words come out. The silence stretches, as your mind struggles to find an answer, your thoughts racing to process the situation. The detective's gaze seems to intensify, her suspicion growing with each passing moment of your hesitation.

Another employee, hearing the conversation, intervenes, their tone casual and informative. "Yeah, you looking for E? He's on his way to sorting." Their words add a touch of normalcy to the tense atmosphere, though their casual tone seems mildly out of place.

The detective's gaze flicks from you to the new speaker, her suspicion shifting momentarily before returning to you. Sarkowski voices his concern, "What is he doing down there? The guy's been acting wiggly all day." The words hang in the air, a mix of confusion and suspicion.

The detective takes charge, her tone firm and authoritative. "Shut this checkpoint down now. And you," she points to you, her gaze fixed on you, "I need you to speak with you first." You feel the weight of her words, the intensity of the situation suddenly escalating. The room seems to close in, the tension palpable.

The nerves take hold, your voice a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty. "O-okay," you reply, a subtle tremble in your words. Your hands are slightly clammy, and your heart beating a little faster. Despite your attempt to remain composed, the weight of the situation and the intensity of the detective's gaze make it clear that this is far from a routine inquiry.

As you make your way down the hallway with the device, you pass the sorting area, your mind becomes consumed with a mix of worry and determination. The thought of the stranger, his face, his voice, his presence, all swirling in your mind as you desperately try to figure out a way to prevent him from getting caught.

The weight of the situation presses on you, the knowledge that something important, something significant, is at stake. It's a strange mix of emotions, the fear for his safety, the desire to keep him from harm, and the uncertainty of what you can do to help.

Your words, "Can I just make sure-" are cut off mid-sentence by the officer's firm response. "No," she says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ethan suddenly appears, his movements swift and frantic. His eyes meet yours, a mix of desperation and urgency in them. He quickly speaks, his words tumbling out, "He still has it, he still has it!" The message hangs between the two of you, a mixture of panic and a sense of understanding passing between you.

The detective, standing nearby, watches the exchange intently. Her gaze narrows as she asks Ethan, "Are you Kopek?" Her tone is sharp, her words carrying a mix of suspicion and curiosity. She's trying to piece together the puzzle before her, her focus fixed on Ethan, waiting for his response.

Ethan's desperate plea echoes through the air, his words a mix of desperation and urgency, "I know this looks bad, but you have to let us go, I have to get to my girlfriend!" His tone is pleading, a mix of fear and anxiety lacing his voice. The detective watches as Ethan tugs at you, her expression a mixture of skepticism and anticipation, her eyes analyzing Ethan's behavior and words, trying to assess the situation.

Ethan tugs at you, his movements urgent and determined, pulling you down the hall. As he speaks, his words carry a sense of urgency, his tone conveying the gravity of the situation. "He's trying to take out Northwind 1850. All passengers," he informs you, his voice carrying a mixture of concern and urgency.

The thought of the stranger's safety, his fate hanging in the balance, and the potential consequences of your actions feel immense. It's a moment of deep contemplation, and the choice you make could have far-reaching consequences.

Ethan instructs you to stay with Nora, his voice carrying a tone of urgency and importance. "Stay with Nora," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. The responsibility of protecting her, of ensuring her safety, adds another layer of weight to your already stressful situation. You nod in agreement, your mind now divided between protecting Nora and ensuring the stranger's safety.

Ethan quickly boards the plane, his eyes scanning the bags, a mixture of urgency and determination in his gaze. He searches through the bags, his movements efficient and focused, until he finally finds the bomb amongst the other bags. The discovery solidifies the gravity of the situation, the threat of the bomb now out in the open, its presence a grim reality.

As Ethan tries to disarm the bomb, another man, a stranger in a black cap, suddenly calls out, "So you're Ethan!"

The unexpected voice, the man in the black cap, catches Ethan off guard. The sudden appearance and the question add an element of confusion to the already tense situation, the stranger's identity and intentions still unknown. The man in the black cap, though different from the stranger you encountered earlier, seems just as determined to ensure the bomb's mission is carried out. He appears ready to sacrifice himself if necessary, a grim resolve in his eyes. The knowledge of this adds a new layer of urgency and danger to the situation, as you realize the extent to which the attackers are willing to go.

Ethan, with a mix of determination and resourcefulness, manages to fight for his life and save the entire plane. He seals the bomb and the associate in a vacuum chamber, a desperate act that ultimately results in the death of the associate and the neutralization of the threat.

The danger is averted, the bomb's threat contained, but the price for Ethan's victory is steep, leaving the weight of the situation and its consequences hanging heavily in the air.

You tell the police your story, sharing the events of the day and the manipulation you faced. You're cooperative, sharing all they wanted to know, the words flowing out of you.

Even as you speak, a sense of loss weighs on you, the realization that you may never see the stranger again settling in your chest. Despite the danger and uncertainty of the situation, a part of you feels strangely drawn to the stranger, his presence and words lingering in your mind.

A part of you entertains the idea that the stranger was right, that if you truly wanted to, you could forget him, erasing his presence from your thoughts and memory.

Your life's trajectory has shifted, moving in a direction that you never anticipated, but that you've worked hard for. Your family visits for the holidays, their gratitude and appreciation for you leaving a warmth in your soul that you'll never forget.

The local news station reaching out to invite you for an exclusive interview is the spark that ignites a fire within you, leading to a string of phone calls and auditions. Finally, your father secures you a genuine agent, and you land your first major role in a movie, a dream that you've been chasing for years.

As each day passes, you find yourself constantly glancing around corners, half-expecting to see the stranger lurking there. The anticipation lingers, a subtle undercurrent in your daily routine, but the stranger never appears, the corner remaining empty.

Weeks turn into months, and the memory of his presence, his words, and his actions begin to gradually fade, the intensity of your expectation slowly waning with each passing moment.

You return to your new house, a cozy home nestled in the picturesque hills of California. The house is a testament to your success, a symbol of all you have achieved since that fateful day at the airport. Yet, as you step into the quiet solitude of your home, a strange sense of loneliness lingers in the air.

A mix of shock and disbelief washes over you as you enter your bedroom and flip on the light, finding a man sitting in the chair across from your bed. But it's not just any stranger - it's the stranger you've been unable to forget.

Your heart skips a beat, the surprise making your breath catch in your throat. You stand there, frozen in place, your mind struggling to comprehend his sudden presence in your most private space.

His voice cuts through the stillness of the room, the words carrying a mixture of accusation and nostalgia. "You changed your number," he says, his tone a blend of disappointment and understanding.

The words make your heart skip a beat, the weight of his statement hanging in the air between the two of you. You feel exposed as if he's laid bare your attempts to move on, to forget him, and yet he doesn't seem overly upset by it.

You respond, your tone is defensive and slightly sheepish. "I had to," you say, the words carrying a hint of regret and a touch of guilt.

The truth is, you had changed your number for your own sanity, as a way to distance yourself from the memories and feelings that he brought up within you. Yet, now that he's here, you realize that a part of you never truly let go.

He stands from the chair, his movements are deliberate and measured as he closes the distance between you. Each step brings him closer, the anticipation growing with each passing moment, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As he approaches, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, his presence commanding your attention, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. His brown hair, shorter now, still slightly disheveled, framed his handsome face. You couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to devour you as if he was seeing you for the first time, yet with an intimate knowledge that made your cheeks flush.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely audible. You had changed your name, moved cities, and started a new life to escape him. But here he was, proving that his infatuation knew no bounds.

"I've been looking for you," he said, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, and you felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. "Never got my answer on that dinner."

You took a cautious step back, your heart racing. The last time you were together, things had ended abruptly, leaving you with a mix of emotions. He had been possessive, and controlling, but there was an undeniable passion that kept you entangled in his web.

"I... I don't understand," you whispered, your eyes darting around, searching for an escape route. "How did you find me?"

He chuckled a deep, throaty sound that sent a pleasurable tingle down your body. "I've been keeping a close eye on you, waiting for the right time."

His words sent a chill down your spine. You remembered the countless nights you woke up to his intense gaze through your bedroom window. The flowers you'd find on your doorstep, with no note, but you knew they were from him. The feeling of being watched, and followed, had become a constant in your life.

"You can't just show up like this," you protested, though your voice lacked conviction. A part of you was intrigued, drawn to the intensity of his desire. "I have a life here, a career..."

"And I intend to be a part of it," he interrupted his voice firm yet laced with a hint of desperation. "I won't let you slip away again."

As he spoke, his eyes trailed down your body, taking in your curves, the soft swell of your breasts beneath your thin blouse. You felt exposed and vulnerable, yet a tingling warmth between your thighs betrayed your unease. His desire was palpable, and it awakened something primal within you.

"You know you want me too," he whispered, taking another step forward, closing the distance between you. "You've always had. From the first time, I whispered in your ear, you wanted me.”

His words were like a spell, breaking down your defenses.

"I..." You trailed off, your eyes searching his, trying to find the strength to resist. But his gaze held you captive, and you found yourself taking a step forward, closing the gap between you.

"That's it," he murmured, his hands reaching out to cup your face. His touch was electric, sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

His lips crashed down on yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, your initial resistance fading as his tongue danced with yours. His hands traveled down your body, molding your curves, igniting a fire that had been smoldering for far too long.

He pushed you against the wall, his body pressing into yours, and you could feel his hardness through his pants. His kisses trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire, as his hands skillfully unbuttoned your blouse, exposing your heaving breasts.

"Oh, I've dreamed of this," he growled, his hot breath sending shivers across your sensitive skin. His mouth captured a taut nipple, sucking and teasing, while his hands worked their magic lower, sliding beneath your skirt.

Your breath caught as his fingers found the damp silk of your panties, stroking the sensitive folds of your pussy. You were already soaked, your body betraying your attempts at resistance. He knew how to touch you, how to drive you wild, and he took his time, building the anticipation.

"Please," you whispered, your head thrown back, as his fingers teased your clit, bringing you to the edge. "I need you..."

He chuckled against your skin, his breath hot and raspy. "Not yet, honey. I want to savor every moment."

His fingers delved deeper, sliding inside your wetness, stretching and filling you. You moaned, your hips thrusting involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. He added another finger, curling them, hitting that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

"That's it, let go," he urged, his voice hoarse with desire. "Come for me, my beautiful girl."

His thumb circled your clit, applying just the right pressure, and you shattered around his fingers, crying out his name. The orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and boneless against the wall.

But he wasn't done with you yet. He lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his gaze burning with intensity as he stripped off his clothes.

"You're stunning," he whispered, his eyes raking over your naked body. "Every inch of you is perfection."

He joined you on the bed, his body covering yours, his lips claiming yours once more. His kisses were feverish, desperate as if he couldn't get enough. His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of your body, reacquainting himself with your curves and valleys. "I need to be inside you, to feel you around me."

You arched your back, offering yourself to him, your hands tugging at his hair, urging him closer. He positioned himself at your entrance, his hardness pressing against your wetness, and slowly, he began to fill you.

The sensation was exquisite, his thick length stretching you, filling a void you didn't realize existed until that moment. He thrust slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, but soon his movements became more urgent, driven by the heat between you.

"Yes, fuck, yes!" you cried out, meeting his thrusts, your nails digging into his back. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, as he hit all the right spots, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently as he pounded into you, driving you higher. Your cries filled the room, a mixture of pleasure and surprise as he took you to heights you'd forgotten existed.

"I'm close," you gasped, your body tightening around him, seeking release. "Oh God, I'm so close..."

He increased his pace, his hips slamming into yours, his breath hot against your neck. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

His words were like a trigger, and you exploded around him, your pussy clenching and milking his shaft as you rode out your orgasm. He followed soon after, his body tensing, as he filled you with his hot release, groaning your name.

As your heart rate slowed, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close, his arms possessive around your waist. You lay there, breathless, your bodies glistening with sweat, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held now that he had found you again.

"You're not getting rid of me this time," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You knew that this was just the beginning, and as you looked into his determined eyes, you realized that this time, you did not want to escape after all.

[finniestoncrane]

Ik this is sorta late depending on time zones and this ask being cheesy as hell but what would the Riddlers do for Valentine's Day with reader? Something cheesy asf? Or not celebrating it at all? I wanna know I'm curious as hell now

Valentine's Date

Riddler Headcanons gosh i rushed so fast to get this done today!! luckily, it was a blessing as work was SLOW! so here are the boys and how they would celebrate valentine's day in my mind because i am down bad for them all and live in a fantasy world where they would all try and do something nice for you 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: suggestive stuff but it's mostly fluff!!

young justice

i can almost guarantee that if you're spending valentine's day with him, it'll be the first one he's had with a partner

so he is pushing the boat out. or... as best as he can... what with the nerves

he wouldn't do something too extravagant, not too fancy or big. that would only increase the number of people he might embarrass himself in front of

he's far more keen on taking you to a quiet, unexpected but comfortable restaurant with quiet music and only a few tables, so he can talk to you and hear you properly

he'd buy you a single rose, hire the violinist to play a song by your table, your favourite tune

no dancing, he's got two left feet, but he will reach across the table and hold your hand, stroking it with his thumb and looking into your eyes

and when he takes you home, he'll walk you to your door and offer you a shy, reserved kiss

whether or not you pull him through the door by his tie and ravage the poor beast is up to you

unburied

he wouldn't actually ask you out for valentine's day

he'd give you a rant about capitalism and how it's a made up holiday and that you should keep your calendar clear anyway just in case he decides to do an ironic date

you'd think his goal was to embarrass you, in fact, because he's showing up to your house with a little remote control and blasting your favourite song out of every speaker system you own

"hey, sh... don't ask how i know your favourite song or how i got control of your devices. just... stop thinking about it. hey. hey! you're thinking about it... don't think about it, sh you're too pretty to think about it. let me think about it, i'm smarter and prettier"

dinner isn't anything too special either. takeout pizza on a rooftop in gotham somewhere. it could be romantic though, and it would be to someone desperately in love with him like you

listening to him talk about light pollution, asking if you want to hear some riddles about constellations, pointing out the various places he's hid from his enemies

it's not traditional by any means, but it is oddly romantic. dinner, music, time alone under the dulled stars. maybe that was his plan all along

gotham

oh we are going WHOLE HOG here for valentine's day!! you know he's an old romantic, a sweet and gentle soul

so don't think for a moment that you'll be seeing any other people that day, your attention will be solely focused on each other

he's sent, uh... someone has sent in some miscellaneous threat to your workplace, so luckily for you(!) you're not required to go in! SO SURPRISE!! he's here to make you breakfast

and then a brief walk down some of the quieter streets, where he might be brave enough to ask if he can hold your hand

once you're at his apartment, you're in for some respectable but tension filled cuddles on his sofa while you watch some classic romance movies

and then he's making a beautiful three course meal for you both! pressed tablecloth on his little dining table, roses in a conical flask, candles in test tubes (is he stealing these from work?)

he'll feed you little bits of food, wiping your face with a napkin, staring into your eyes dreamily

and then the night will end with a perfect and very polite kiss that you'll wish wouldn't end

telltale

he knows how to do romance, he's been around long enough. it's more a question of whether he can be bothered to celebrate

but he'll pull himself together and act the perfect gentleman for you, regardless of how tired he is after a day of committing violent/cyber crime and being oddly agile for a man in receipt of a state pension

(a fact which will come in handy at the end of the evening...)

he'll start off the evening with the traditional gifts. a box of expensive chocolates or candy, perfectly suited to your dietary requirements of course. and a bouquet of flowers. not roses, but your favourites. he knows they'll make you happier

he's not one for being out in public, what with the whole "is he dead" thing, so you'll be dining in BUT to make it special, he has hired a discreet personal chef to provide the food for the evening

slow, quiet jazz playing in the background, just you, him, and the waiters he has hired and has threatened under extreme violence to keep their mouths shut about this particular shift

could it get any more romantic??

arkham

bless his heart but this eddie is forgetting that it's valentine's day until you're handing him a card, grasping it between his dirty fingers, smudging the soft pink colour with grimy fingerprints

then, you'll endure a fifteen minute long lecture about why you should have at least had the sense to warn him in advance, or to remind him, since you know how he can be

and when he's done, he'll be pushing you out of the room, getting rid of you so he can "finish his important work" and only then can you consider "doing something for this silly holiday"

really, he's just looking for an excuse to get you away so he can work on your very last minute present without you seeing

which of course, he'll present to you as though he had been pretending to forget all along

"i made you this, it's a symbol of our relationship"

it's the remnants of a neon question mark bent into place to resemble a heart. and there's hot glue still drying on it. and a screw stuck to it

but it's the thought that counts, and the thought is there! after all he loves you enough to have lied and put aside his important welding or whatever to haphazardly craft the lie

dano

for him, valentine's day is about showing your love for someone. because you can love them every day, but this is an excuse to make a display out of it

so expect a myriad of gifts, food, perfumes, vouchers, jewellery, stuffed animals, flowers, a handmade valentine's card

enough that it makes you guilty (and enough that you wonder if he really has just been saving all his salary instead of spending it on... furniture or therapy)

then, the personalised activities! most of which involve you doing his quiz all about you and your relationship with him, solving several riddles that lead you to a hidden compartment in the wall of his bedroom (weird.) where he's stuffed his poems to you (sweet!) which he will then recite to you, stuttering over the words and blushing the whole time

but it's not enough for him, he wants to shout it from the rooftops, show the world how much he loves you and appreciates you

he's had all this love bottled up for so long with no one deserving to give it to! let's just hope it comes out in a healthy way...

btaa

he's swooping in to your apartment very late at night

"it's only 11pm, it's still valentine's day mi amorrrrr"

look, he's very sorry that he wasn't able to spend the day with you, and that he's incredibly late to the dinner you had planned

but he's a busy little criminal, he has so many things to do AND he had to do it all by himself because he gave miss tuesday the day off so she could go on a date of her own and-

oh see! you've changed your mind now, no longer grumpy, because he was actually doing something kind for someone else

he really is a generous soul, emphasised by the fact that the reason he was late was because he was pulling off a perfect heist in a jewellery store uptown

so... did you save any leftovers for him? or is he going to have to return this beautiful ring/watch/necklace he bought you?

twojar

he's a curveball, like seriously give you whiplash kind of valentine's date

you think it's going to be a very standard evening, after all there you both are in black tie best, sipping expensive champagne, him talking about himself while you try hard not to stare at his tits

but when the meal is finished, he goes to pay in secret and then rushes you out into a car with tinted windows, and it's lucky he can get you so hot and flushed and eager that quickly, since it's not long before you arrive at the next spot

a strip club

which is? i mean not a traditional valentine's day date location, but it could be very hot

and he's booked one of the private rooms for you both, so at least you won't have to hide your blushing cheeks from the rest of the guests

but it becomes very obvious that there isn't a dancer coming to entertain you, and you worry that he expects you to get up there and put on a show, which would be a disaster because you haven't planned anything and-

"happy valentine's day"

ah. of course. why would the world's most self-absorbed man think you would want anything else for valentine's day than a private strip tease from him

and he's annoyingly very right in that assumption

btas

he absolutely does the most! and the most is often cheesy and dorky and therefor a million times more precious

the kind of guy who would buy you a rose for every day he's known you, regardless of how many days he has known you

the kind of guy who gets those little personalised lego figures made of you and him, or gets a plushie of him to give to you so he'll always be near you (and you know he's putting the personalised message in if he gets it from build a bear)

he knows your favourite starter, main and dessert are all from different restaurants, so he's made the reservations at all three with plenty of time for romantic rides in the back of cabs between each stop

it's important he has plenty of time to cover your neck with kisses, and for you to tell him how adorable he is

and then, because he is the cheesiest but in the best way, it's more than likely he'd use valentine's day as an excuse to propose to you, so he's down on one knee under the cloudy gotham night sky to ask you to marry him (and you're obviously not going to say no)

zero year

he doesn't do valentine's day, what a waste of time! he's nice enough to you the rest of the year, why should there be one day where he has to do something extra fo-

oh? oh! oh ok, if it means you have to do something for him too, then he's down for it

yes... that sounds like a wonderful excuse to get up to some mischief... (it's concerning how evil his little face looks when he's supposedly considering activities for the most romantic of holidays...)

although, why bother going out somewhere on a date, it's such a waste of time and effort

he has to keep his energy for more important things, and speaking of... he can think of very few ways to spend an evening that are better than taking you into the bedroom and sharing an exchange of giving for a few solid hours

no need to wear something nice, it's only going to get stripped off

no need to get him a gift, you'll be giving him plenty

and no need to eat something, he'll make sure you don't leave hungry, trust him

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hobie brown x male!spiderman!reader where they’re “boyfriends” (more like best friends with benefits type thing) from different dimensions and haven’t seen each other in a while due to reader being kind of busy with SM stuff but one day reader shows up to hobies dimension in search of comfort because a canon event caused his older brother to die! Loving your hobie fics btw your whole blog is just good asf😭🫶💞

Here ya go! I hope you like it and I thank you for your kind words, they really mean a lot as I haven’t been feeling that great as of late, so this really made my day.

You felt as though you couldn’t breath, like the breath has been ripped straight out of your lungs, leaving you to struggle in finding fresh, unpolluted air to take in, to revitalise your lungs from the damage they’ve received; But you weren’t going to get that if you were to stay here.

Your head and heart were murky with every emotion imaginable trying to overtake each other as your primary feeling whilst your body was screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away because he was already dead before he even hit the ground; reminding you that you could mourn the dead later but as of right now you needed to get to the place you felt safest. But you weren’t going to get that if you were to stay here.

So without putting in much thought into anything anymore with your mind so far from reality and your emotions in a state of self destructive chaos, your change of scenery wasn’t brought into question until you heard the familiar sound of a guitar playing before it immediately stopped, only for it to be replaced by the sound of curious footsteps that grew in volume with they’re impending closeness. You knew those footsteps by heart and the type of shoes that made them but knew the male who wore those platforms like the back of your hand; Hobie’s warmth brought you a comfort that couldn’t be recreated nor imitated because even if it was even remotely the slightest bit off, you body naturally rejected it and would indiscreetly crave for the real thing.

For nothing could bring you more comfort, more sense of mind then being in Hobie’s arms.

‘Y/n?’ Even at the sound of his voice had your guarded walls crumbling.

‘Hobie, please tell me that’s you and not some sick trick of the mind.’ You whimpered, clutching the vest that he had left in your dimension between tightly clenched fists, while remaining adamant on keeping your back to him until you were for certain that he was in the room, talking to you, almost as though you were reassuring that deep seeded doubt that he was alive and okay.

In a couple of strides Hobie had his front pressed against your back as his arms cocooned you tightly in a method of preventing you moving away from his hold. ‘Does this feel like me?’ He asked softly, his heart hurting as he watched you instinctively huddled further into his chest until practically all of you was submerged against him. Just as your tears had begun to fall down your cheeks and creating wet patches against his shirt that you were adamant on clinging so desperately to. ‘Oh pretty boy.’ Hobie utters as he tightened his hold on you, allowing you to weep freely without judgment as all he wanted for you to do in that moment was to let it all out in whatever way you found best; whether it was to scream, cry, punch, or otherwise, Hobie would rather you be vocal about you pain rather then subduing it for a later date.

‘My brother died Hobie,’ you wept. ‘he died and I couldn’t save him, I wasn’t fast enough to reach him, I wasn’t strong enough to catch him as he fell, I wasn’t able enough to change anything.’ You gripped his shirt even tighter as you clenched your eyes shut as the imagery of the prior events proceeded to mock you of your biggest failure as Spider-Man as you added in a near inaudible whisper. ‘I don’t deserve to be Spider-Man. He’s meant to save people, not lead them to their deaths.’ Hobie knew that you didn’t meant for him to hear any of the last part but he very much did and felt that it was within his due diligence to remind you of how utterly bullshit that statement was because he’s making damn sure you don’t quit being what you so clearly love.

‘I want you to listen and listen good because I want what I say to you to stick with you so that when you get like this again, you’ll remember your worth and what you’ve always been fighting for; hope.’ Hobie began. ‘You were meant to be Spider-Man as much as I or any other Spider-Person in existence. Miguel’s bullshit has made you think that your value is based on the pain and the suffering we’ve endured and how there’s nothing we can do to combat it once it comes for us again, and again, and again. Forcing you to your knees in grief and sorrow but you want to know what you should do when that happens?’

‘What?’ You asked, removing your face from his chest to look him into his deep eyes with bleary eyes, practically melting into his touch when his hands moved to cup your face, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks free of tear streaks. ‘Get back up.’ Hobie tells you. ‘Get back up because the fight ain’t over and it’ll never be over if you decide to give up now.’ He then sighs as he presses his head against yours in order to get closer to you. ‘Look I know it’s hard to keep going when they’re no longer here to root for us, to be there for us when we lick our wounds but it’ll only ever feel like that because you actively choose to stop remembering them, to stop honouring their memory within your heart, stop remembering their love and stop seeing them in everything they’ve touched, that’s when you know true loneliness. But your brother is still here,’ Hobie then brought one of your hands and pressed it against your chest to where your heart lied.

‘He’s right here and he will always be here, I will always be here for you in the moments you seemed to have lost your fighting spirit, to loose the willpower to keep going because I’ll happily carry you on my back until you do because that’s what we do, not only as Spider-Men but humans also. It’s practically in our nature.’ Just as Hobie was about to pull his hand off of yours, you were quick to grasp his hand and pulled it back towards you but only to place it over your heart, pressing you own hand atop of his to keep him there. There was a lot you wanted to tell Hobie that could wait until you were in a much better situation but even then you still had a lump in your throat that hindered your ability to speak your mind freely; which never usually happens when you’re with Hobie and it seemed as though he had caught onto this as well as he smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, take your time.’

‘Will you stay with me? Just for a little while longer.’ You finally asked, racked with nervousness and anxiety as you fiddled with his fingers for his response. Hobie’s smile widens as he closed his eyes, brushing his nose against yours all the while making sure to keep you close in his embrace. ‘I’ll stay even long after you’re done needing me because I will always be standing in your corner, pretty boy.’

[lovepookie]

₊˚ෆ Favoring Roses Over Daisies - s.qr

♡ ︎sypnosis: daisies will forever and always be boring; they were the former queen’s—your mother’s—favorite flower. however, now that it’s your turn to ascend the thrown, you can’t help that roses are your favorite; just like the blood-red ones embellished on prince ricky’s black suit on the night of your suitor’s ball. but don’t get caught up in the pretty scent and petals, because where there is beauty, there is thorns. ricky is the prince of an enemy nation—and your whole life he has been nothing but a pest. a really pretty one.

♡ ︎genre: royal au, fantasy/magical, fluff, angsty, prince!ricky, fem!reader, prince!hanbin side pairing, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, the dramaaa

♡ 7.0k word count (i’m not sorry)

♡ ︎warnings: cursing, mentions of readers father passing away, misogyny mentioned, kinda angsty and dramatic, playful threats, please let me know if you’d like me to add any!

♡ ︎nano note: i know this is long asf, but i am not even the slightest bit sorry. been thinking about prince ricky for the longest and i just had to quench my forbidden love needs. feedback and fangirling in the replies w/ me is greatly appreciated! xoxo

.♡.

“Look at you…so beautiful.” Your mother said, standing behind you as you sat on your bench in front of your vanity. She placed a lavish gold crown on your head carefully, using pins to secure its place.

You manage to shoot her a faint smile.

Your older sister had dropped off the face of the earth when you were teens, and now that you’re becoming of age, you were the only heir able to be crowned.

It felt bittersweet.

Never once in your life did you ever want the title. You grew up thinking it was always out of touch because of your place as second to the thrown. And you were fine with that. You grew with the mindset that it was never yours to begin with and let your sister take reign.

You’d sigh in relief when she would be pulled away from your play dates for classes on her duties as a future leader.

It was a so bittersweet.

When she left.

Still, you stared at yourself in the mirror with a bit of poise.

This was your moment and you took it on with a great sense of responsibility; wanting nothing more than to be the best leader to your people. You had many plans now that you had been crowned, but nothing could prepare you for today.

Descending from your mother; you were shockingly only the second queen to be crowned as of a couple days ago. The ceremony came and went so fast with everyone making a big deal out of it. This catapulted misogynistic hate back into the thoughts and mouths of other nations who were still coming around to the idea of women in power.

On the night of your 21st birthday, you were notified that your mother would be stepping down as Queen. Your father had passed away a few months ago and because of this, your nation was now unable to continue to keep peace between the neighboring nation your father was great friends with.

This nation was Sector Four and they never really liked your sector, Sector Nine, for how they ruled. Your father, who was from Sector Three, was just miraculously married to your mother and was the sole driving factor to both nations recoiling from the long history of wars and bickering.

As your mother described it, she was just excited to meet boys on the night she was to find a suitor. She did not realize when she met your fathers eyes that they belonged to none other than a friend of the enemy.

He was a godsend to your nation and the very reason your mother says she was able to face such widespread disrespect that was thrown at her for being the first Queen.

But this didn’t matter anymore. That peace and sense of tranquillity vanished the moment your father’s breath did.

Now that your father is gone, the hunger for power and the ratification of misogyny was trickling back—you were nothing to them; so long as you were your mothers child.

Regardless, life went on and the fact of the matter was that you were now Queen of a nation too and therefore had to meet a suitor.

Today would be that fateful day.

Yes, you heard that right.

Only a few days as leader and every nation in question were lining up for a piece of the power.

It was laughable.

Still, you gathered your thoughts and made yourself knowledgeable of what had to happen. Unlike your mother, you’d be prepared—this wasn’t some joyous event created for you to find a man, this was so much more than that.

“Alright, your tiara is secure.” Your mother said, meeting eyes with you in the mirror as she smoothed down the sleeves of your dress.

You let another soft smile grace your face as you started to stand.

“Thank you, Mother.” You say, albeit a bit shaky.

You didn’t want to be nervous, but the time ticking by was starting to get to you. It was already evening, the ball that your mother put in place being seconds away from starting.

“Don’t worry. So many people may be waiting for you in there, but they all have an agenda of their own. Try to have fun, okay Daisy?” Your mother said, calling you by the nickname she gave you as a child.

She’d always loved daisies.

They were alright in your opinion.

You’d always prefer roses.

“I know. I’ll be fine.” You say, half trying to convince her, half trying to convince yourself.

“Very well, I better get going now. I’ll meet you out there okay? Remember to smile and have fun, alright?” She says as she walks slowly towards the door.

You nod at her.

“Yes Mother, I’ll try my best.” You say, the words being comforting to you somehow. She smiles and sends a flying kiss your way. You chuckle and catch it, much to her happiness.

Once she’s out of sight, you allow yourself some time to think.

Maybe tonight won’t be too bad. If you don’t find a suitor, so what?

There was no hurry, and you were sure everyone present was definitely not there for love. Everything is always meticulously planned when it comes to royal affairs, and anyone can rule truly.

It was just your lucky turn, so you could play by your own rules.

After talking yourself up and out of your nervousness, you decide it’s go time.

You make your way into the large hallway, it’s festive flowers lining the balcony that oversaw the foyer.

Wow, they really went all out.

Just a few halls down was the dining hall, so not many people were around. As you rounded a column in order to go down the stairs that were around the corner, you were quickly drawn out of your thoughts as you quite literally came face to face with someone else.

It all went so fast, suddenly you were falling backwards, a person falling over you too.

“Oh!” You yelled out.

My dress! This shit was hard to put on!

“Oh my! My apologies miss, I-“ Says a young man as he quickly gathers himself.

You crouch up on your elbows, looking up to meet his eyes.

He looked cute.

His features looked like a dear caught in headlights. You didn’t even know what headlights were, and you weren’t sure how you got that saying. Anyways.

“I- Your Majesty?” He utters out, as he stumbles to his feet. He was endearing.

You just stare.

“Your Majesty I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful.” He states, slightly bowing his head and holding out his hand for you to take.

You do so, placing your hand gracefully in his, the strength of his arm pulling you to your feet.

“It’s alright, I didn’t see you as well.” You say.

He clears his throat as he gets a good look at you for the first time, head slightly bowed still.

“You may be at ease.” You chuckle.

His cheeks go pink, a smile making its way onto his face. The dimples on his cheek bones poked through, his eyes forming into crescents in possible embarrassment.

A guinea pig.

He looked like a cute guinea pig.

“Well then, I take it I’ll see you during the reception?” You say, already endeared by his charms.

He looks back at you in shock and places a hand over his heart before bowing again.

“Oh- of course! It will be a pleasure to see you again Your Majesty.” He gets out, taking another bow.

You chuckle.

“Very well, I hope to find out your name then too.” You say, bowing back and making your way down the stairs.

His bow never falters, and you’re sure when you’re far enough you hear him scold himself.

You laugh to yourself.

He was endearing.

And only for a moment does it distract you from your responsibilities.

Within seconds your smile falters and you regained your poise.

It was time to address your guests.

As you walked into the corridor and greeted a bunch of royal caretakers, you greet the Royal announcer as well, making him aware of your presence so that he can announce your entrance. Once he did, everyone scrambled to make sure you were ready, fixing things unnecessarily to make things perfect.

You just let it happen of course—your nerves were starting to get the best of you anyways.

Within a few seconds, you were announced and the velvety ceiling-length curtains were opened.

You walked into the ballroom and were greeted by bright lights and loud cheers. The lighting blinded you for a second, but you didn’t let that show in your expression.

Once you were able to adjust your eyes to the room, you saw several hundred people. Some were smiling, some were serious.

You saw your mother and teachers, happiness evident in their faces to see you be announced as Queen to everyone in attendance. Then you looked over to the other nations and the suitors who were present for you.

My, oh my.

There were so many.

You let out a quiet nervous sigh as you continued through the people and made your way to your seat for the dinner to commence. Before you could sit, there were a few young men who passed near your area and bowed your way, hoping to get an early introduction in.

You chuckled.

One bowed generously, throwing you a wide gummy smile. He must be way younger than you, you note. Just as you slightly bow in response, you see him make his way closer.

He bows again before speaking, “Your Majesty, might I just say, your portraits do not do you justice.” He says, gummy smile coming back as he towered over your seated frame.

He was tall and built, but nothing could stop you from seeing his boyish nature. You let out a chuckle before replying, “And your name?”

“Gunwook. Prince Park Gunwook from Sector Five.” He says, shooting you another sly smile.

You decide to let your chuckle out a little louder this time.

“Noted, Prince Gunwook.” You smiled.

He bowed once more and walked back to what you assume is his royal friends.

Before you could catch the gazes of anymore cute faces, a plate was placed on the gold charger in front of you and everyone in attendance watched as you lifted your gauntlet of still-too-bitter wine; signaling the start of the dinner.

It was only a few hours of wining and dining under the gaze of many suitors before the most nerve racking part of the night was to commence. The classical music changed its tempo to that of dancing music, people making their way to the ballroom dance floor.

Your nerves were starting to build as the melodies played through the hall.

Looking over to your mother, you saw her gesture for you to join the dance floor despite no one asking for your hand to dance yet.

You sighed anxiously and stood slowly to your feet, your ball gown shifting to follow along. As soon as you do this, you see many figures moving, almost on par with your own movements.

Here we go.

It was obvious that the race to ask you to dance was finally here; and boy you wished your corsets hadn’t been so tightly hoisted around you.

Who even dances right after desert?

Still, you hold your chin up high and walk towards the floor as gracefully and as unfazed as you can. It’s there where you meet eyes with him again.

He smiled, whiskers reappearing. Without thinking, you walk towards him—much to everyone’s surprise. He looks shocked as he quickly aknowledges you with a bow.

“Your majesty-“ He starts.

“Would you like to dance?” You speak, cutting him off.

His shock is only evident for a moment, before he smiles bigger and holds his hand out for you to take. You smile back, already comfortable within his grasp.

Once meeting the dance floor, he turns towards you, grasping your waist and holding your other hand in his. You place your hand on his shoulder, and get a good look at him.

Please don’t be from Sector Four. Please don’t be from Sector Four. Please don’t be from Sector Four.

“Your Majesty, thank you for approaching me first, I really am flattered.” He speaks respectfully as he leads you into the dance.

The many people in the room become nonexistent as you let him guide you.

“No need to thank me, you were the first familiar face I’d seen, so naturally I approached you.” You say, smiling shyly under his gaze.

His intentions seemed so straightforward in the way he looked at you. He had seemed entranced.

Dare you say, taken.

You decided to stare at his royal blue suit, the intensity of his gaze becoming too much.

He chuckles.

“My name is Prince Sung Hanbin, Sector Two. Please call me Hanbin, Your Highness.” He says.

This took you by surprise, so you looked up at him and re-evaluated his face.

Your mother’s best friend had a son named Hanbin, but you’d never gotten the chance to meet either of them since she was a Princess of a far away nation. Suddenly his features matched up with that of the paintings you’d seen of your mother and her closest friends when she was younger.

It all came together so seamlessly.

“Oh, so you’re thee Hanbin…” You say, staring him straight in the eyes.

This garner’s you a laugh.

“With all do respect your majesty, I think you’re the woman of the hour.” He says slyly, passing you a smile.

He was smooth.

A very respectful kind of smooth.

Just as you were going to respond, another voice chimes in.

“Pardon for the interruption, but may I have the next dance Your Majesty?” Says a handsome man, confidence seeping through his demeanor.

Hanbin stops leading you and lets go of your waist. As you turn, you meet his eyes.

Sharp and confident, just like his tone, he came off very striking. He was stunning.

If Hanbin was endearing and Gunwook was adorable, this one was gorgeous.

“If her majesty would like to, of course.” Hanbin says, you notice a little protectiveness hidden in his tone as he looks your way.

You smile up at him, barely able to take your eyes off of the new gentleman in front of you.

You notice how his red hanker-chief and red embellishments stand out compared to the rest of his solid black suit. It was all very eye-catching.

When you look back up at him, you were met with a slight smirk. He smiles down at himself for a second, a boyish look on display for only a moment in time.

This, too, takes you by surprise.

You gather yourself as Hanbin clears his throat. You were probably being watched by so many people right now. You can’t help but take note of the evergrowing tension that was starting to cement amongst you three.

“My apologies,” You say, “I’ll be alright Prince Hanbin. Thank you for your time.” You finish, shooting him a smile of gratitude.

He reciprocates it kindly and bows, then passes your hand to the man in front of you.

You take a moment to look him up and down.

Why couldn’t you? You were the Queen for crying out loud.

As you grasped his hand, his other hand goes for your waist quite smoothly. When you place your hand on his shoulder, you hear a chuckle. Your eyebrows raise at this.

“Why do you laugh?” You ask, and you can’t help that your gaurd goes up.

Maybe it was time to go back to being skillfully observant and professional—because this one made you feel uneasy.

“I’m sorry Your Majesty, I wasn’t expecting your gaze.” He says, pulling you a little closer by the waist and staring down at you as he starts to lead you on the dance floor.

You note the vibrado in his tone this time, your heart doing something weird in the process. You also felt your face getting hot.

Why is it scorching in here?

“Pardon?” You say, trying to not drop into the floor.

He chuckles again as he stares down at you once more, “Nevermind that, Your Majesty. How are you feeling?” He asks.

This takes you by surprise—yet gratitude fills your heart at the fact that he even cared to ask.

“It depends. Which answer would you like to hear? The decent one….” You look up at him, meeting his playfull eyes.

“…or the truth?” You finish.

You see a glint in his eyes right before he spins you around, and when you meet again, his eyes find yours effortlessly.

“Whichever you’re willing to share, but I’d rather hear the truth.” He affirms, his serious and chic look taking reign again. You contemplate answering him altogether.

“Very well. But before I do, what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking….” You stall.

“Apologies, Your Majesty. Prince Ricky.” He states, holding up your hand that was in his grasp and placing a kiss on your knuckles that were covered by your satin gloves.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at his actions, and you have to run what he says back in your mind over and over for you to even process his name.

“…It’s a pleasure to meet you…” You start, staring into his eyes as he continues making eye contact through the gesture.

You didn’t know from whomst he learned to be so smooth from, but you definitely wanted to meet them and say thank you.

He was sly like a feline.

“The pleasures all mine.” He responds and continues to guide you as the music plays.

Finally you decide to give him an answer to his earlier question.

“Truthfully, this is all planned and feels nerve-racking.” You state, deciding to stare at some people around you as you danced, getting a little too worked up by the young man’s continuous gaze.

“I can understand your majesty. Truthfully, are you even serious about finding someone tonight?” He asks a little daringly.

You roll your eyes playfully as he spun you once again, hoping you were moving too fast for others—your mother—to notice.

Ricky was making your graceful facade crumble right from beneath you, and it was something you thought you’d never let happen—let alone at the hands of someone you met a couple minutes ago.

“Truthfully?” You start, and he nods in response.

“Truthfully, yes. I need to do this for my nation.” You say, the conversation turning a bit more serious, your smile faltering.

You were starting to remember your responsibilities.

Right.

You had so much to uphold.

Ricky notices this—the change in mood.

He sighs and looks around as well, contemplating his response before he speaks.

“I can understand the heavy weight you must be carrying on your shoulders Your Majesty….” He mumbles.

Then he leans in, pulling you close so he can whisper in your ear.

“…but for now can we just be people?” He asks.

You feel your heart sink.

When he pulls away, you are met with a genuine look on his face. He smiles and looks down, a piece of his wavy blonde hair falling into his eyes. You go to move it out of his face, but just as you do, someone interrupts.

“May I have the next dance your majesty? Apologies for the disturbance-“ Someone starts, but before they can finish, a man who looks strikingly similar to Ricky steps up.

“Prince Quanrui, your mother is waiting.” He speaks, gaining Ricky’s attention.

Prince Quanrui?

You feel like the world starts spinning.

Prince Quanri.

No.

No…

NO!

“-Your Majesty!!” Your bestfriend and head-maid, Juni, exclaims, pulling you from out of your slumber, forcing you to sit up in your bed.

“Huh?!” You shoot up, chest heaving as you try to take in the feelings left behind from the dream you had just lived through.

“You wench, I’ve been yelling at you! You were starting to scare me!” Juni says, sending you a side eye as she gets up in an attempt to act irritated

All you can do is sigh in relief.

The people in your dreams resembled the same people in real life, but everything felt wrong.

Quanrui, or Ricky, had been the Prince of the neighboring nation that despises your mother, that much was true—but he was nothing like the boy you’d just interacted with in your dream just now.

From the moment you had met him as a child, he was insufferable. He’d always made fun of you and you always found yourself in constant arguments with him.

Tonight would be your suitor’s ball, but you were hoping it would go nothing like your dreams. You couldn’t even understand how you were able to dream of Ricky or see him in that light.

Yes, he was handsome, but that was besides the point.

“I’m sorry Juni, I was having a nightmare.” You say, gathering yourself and getting up from your bed.

It was time to start getting ready.

“A nightmare? ‘Oh- Prince Quanruiiii~ Oh! Do you want the truth Prince Quanrui??~’” Juni mocked as she pranced around your room with an embellished fan, obnoxiously fanning herself.

Your face went warm within seconds.

“Silence! Or I’ll make sure you’ll be serving Prince Yujin rather than Prince Jiwoong’s table tonight.” You say, daggers in your eyes being thrown her way.

Prince Yujin was your younger kid cousin, whilst Prince Jiwoong was a newly appointed royal over in Sector Eight, the latter being known for capturing the hearts of maidens across many lands.

To this, she pipes down like a startled cat, walking out of the room to do god knows what.

This leaves you alone in your room to get ready for the night—as well as all alone to your thoughts.

You sigh as you look yourself in the mirror after your bath. You brush through your hair, anxiousness coursing through your mind.

When your mother comes in and stands behind you to help you with your tiara just like you knew you’d seen before, you feel shivers go down your spine.

“Is everything alright?” She spoke with grace, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

You nod.

“Don’t worry…So many people may be waiting for you in there, but they all have an agenda of their own. Try to have fun, okay Daisy?” Your mother says, calling you once again by the nickname she gave you as a child.

Your face went pale, blood running cold at this statment.

You’d always prefer roses.

Still, she continued on like a broken record.

-

After getting ready and talking yourself through your possible insanity, you meticulously decide to take another route to the reception hall—this meant taking the long way through the castle in order to get there.

Just as you round a corner very carefully, a voice takes you by surprise.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice chimes in from behind.

You jump, immediately turning around to meet sharp and playful eyes. As soon as you see him, you deadpan, automatically irritated that he graced you with his presence.

“What are you doing following me?” You stammer back harshly, immediately turning your back on him and continuing on your way. He reaches out for you and grasps your hair as you run along, letting it pass through his fingers.

“Your hair has grown longer.” He states, a smile on his face as you turn to give him a weird look.

He just chuckles and catches up to you.

“Why are you speaking to me informally, put some respect on my name.” You state, walking faster to hopefully get some distance between you two.

“Oh I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he starts, but before you can look his way, he spins you towards him and stares down at you.

You couldn’t read him really, but you knew he was probably doing this to embarrass you.

He did this to every lady.

You were sure.

“You look stunning tonight.” He states, brushing a stray part of your hair away from your forehead.

He watches as your face turns warm in color whilst doing everything in your power to try and avoid eye contact.

“Watch your trinkets Prince Ricky, I’ll make sure you go barren.” You say.

He quickly retaliates, immediately moving away—a wide-eyed smile playing on his face.

“Your Majesty, don’t speak that way. You don’t want your suitors to know you’re already thinking of me and children in your life.” He states, quickly sprinting off knowing you would resort to violence at his comment.

You catch his wide smile as he saunters off.

You were so tired of him.

-

With a fast heart beat, you ready yourself to take on the crowd for what felt like the second time today. You tried your best to get the events that just played out, out of your head; trying to convince yourself that your responsibilities and duties as a Queen were of the utmost importance. When the curtains open and your full name is announced, the same scenery you had dreamt of had come to life.

Your mom smiled the same way.

Your teachers did too.

The suitors all scurried to try and approach you just like you had seen before.

You walked over and sat in the same seat.

And there he was, that gummy smile introducing himself all over again.

It was unnerving this time.

The only thing that differed from your dream was the run in with the boy named Hanbin earlier within the day.

Instead, Ricky took his place. In a way, this excited you. Maybe what was to play out was that Hanbin would take Ricky’s spot too.

You smiled to yourself, the sound of music ringing throughout the hall as the strings and flutes played. This time, you didn’t need to search in your mothers eyes for what you should do next. You stand up, dress trailing in your wake.

You feel the room watching your every move. As you step out into the free open space on the dance floor, your eyes searching for him.

If everything play’s out like it did in the dream with only a few substitutions, it should all work out in your favor.

You turn gracefully, finding him on one side of the room. As soon as you see him and you make eye contact, he smiles, albeit a bit shocked.

Alright, you got this.

You take a step in his direction.

Then another.

And even when you see people make their way towards you, you continue towards him.

As you grow closer, his smile drops.

And when you stand in front of him, he stares you down, more serious than you had ever seen him.

“Would you like to dance?” You ask.

He looks around, fake smile on display to try and play off what was currently going down.

“Your Majesty, what are you doing?” He mutters, holding his hand out for you to place yours in.

“Just follow my lead.” You whisper as he bows before looking back up at you.

He takes your hand in his and pulls it towards his lips, taking you completely by surprise.

“You know they won’t like this.” He states, but gives you a smile contrary to his words.

He leads you out to the dance floor.

“I know,” You start, “…but I’m not doing this for you. Or them.” You say, making eye contact again with Ricky, his hand finding it’s way to your waist.

He chuckles at this, his smile reaching his striking eyes as he looks everywhere but at you, probably trying to sell the narrative that you two were having a decent conversation.

You two had always been around each other growing up, sworn enemies by the nations you both belonged to. It was just how it worked out, so you weren’t sure if anyone in the crowd was buying this.

“You sure? I see the way your cheeks go rosy when I tease you.” He speaks, looking back down to you.

This was the one time you recognize his height, because even though he’d tease you, you’d never stayed this close long enough to realize how his frame made you look almost sickly.

“I feel so sorry for you Prince Ricky. You’re so delusional, you don’t even realize how much you’ve rotted your looks away due to your own selfishness.” You mutter, starting to look around for the guinea pig who should be saving you at any moment from this hell.

If everything went to plan, the whiskered boy would take Ricky’s place and you’d dance the night away in contrary to how your dream turned out.

If everything went to plan.

“Oh, so you admit your attraction. I hate to break it to you Your Majesty, but I am not looking to be courted.” He says smugly, finally looking at you, mischief hidden in his eyes as his smile fades. It was almost a serious look.

You scoff at his words nonetheless.

“Say what you want. I know what I’m here for.” You say, continuing to look around.

Where are you?

Ricky notices this and starts to look around as well.

“Who are you searching for? You’re missing the whole reason you asked me to dance.” He says, half teasing, half confused.

You roll your eyes, but continue to search through the crowd.

“Right. Because i so badly wanted to dance with you.” You say, your tone contradicting your words.

Before you could hear out his next words, you were pulled closer by the waist. Your attention snaps to Ricky, meeting his eyes for the ninth time that day.

This time, he definitely looked serious.

A little too serious.

Despite this, you couldn’t look away. You take in the way his eyes look back and forth between each of your own. Without realizing your line of sight trails down to the swoop of his nose, and you see the way his cheeks smooth down to his sharp jaw. You didn’t even want to glance at the wording on the side of his neck. He was breathtaking—so long as he kept his mouth shut.

He looked just like the woman who hated your mothers guts.

When you trail to his lips, you see them upturn slowly. And just like that, you’re brought back to reality.

“Your Majesty-“ A voice chimes in, interrupting the moment.

You quickly snap your neck toward the voice.

Much to your dismay, it was a woman.

“Pardon Your Royal Highness, but may I steal Prince Quanrui for a dance?” She utters, smiling your way with innocence.

You hated that she too had whiskers.

You took in the way her yellow dress contradicted your red one; tailored to match her every inch, including her eye smile.

She was gorgeous.

And when you glance back at Ricky, that pretty entrancing look is gone from his eyes.

And he wasn’t Ricky.

He was Prince Quanrui.

“Ah- If I’m not interrupting anything, that is.” The girl states as she bows your way shyly.

You clear your throat and let go of Ricky’s shoulder, turning to reciprocate her bow.

“Of course. I don’t mind.” You say.

But you do.

You gave Ricky one last look, taking in the way his wavy blonde hair fell into his eyes. Naturally, his suit catches your eye again too; the pretty red roses looking a little different this time.

Roses had always been your favorite.

You send him a faint smile before you face the crowd again. It was an embarrassment that another suitor had taken away your current dance partner away. This was your suitors ball after all, but in that moment you couldn’t have cared less.

Guinea pig wasn’t here.

He didn’t ask you to dance.

Your dream was wrong, and he didn’t exist.

You walked back towards your seat, hoping to get a little rest after dancing for so long.

Despite how you were feeling, you kept your poise and grace as you went. Anyone watching would have thought you weren’t phased.

Everyone but your mother.

She met you back at your seat, brushing off suitors who were approaching you to dance in her wake.

“Are you alright, My Dear?” She asks, sitting down next to you whilst taking a sip of her drink.

You smile her way.

“Yes.”

“His eyes.” She mutters.

You stare at her in confusion.

“Your father got in the habit of gazing at me like that.” She finishes.

Within another minute, she was up and off, but not without leaving you with one last statment.

“Roses also deserve to be picked, regardless of their thorns.” She whispers, just enough for only you to hear, then you are once again left all alone to the maze that is your mind.

You look over to him.

He danced with this fake smile, his flirty eyes contrary to how lightly he grasped the young ladies waist.

It was all the confirmation you needed.

You knew he’d loved you your whole childhood.

You just knew.

Without thinking, you make your way across the ballroom floor.

Nothing could stop you.

No one.

“Your Highness?” A voice chimes up, trying to stop you on your way towards your destiny. You stop, but your eyes are still fixated on Ricky.

“Yes?” You say awkwardly, not even looking their way.

“Hello,” they bow, and you’re barely able to see their figure out of your peripheral vision, sight still set on one of the few blondes in the room.

“Uh- I’m a Prince from Sector Two, and I couldn’t help but-“ He notices your averted attention.

“-I couldn’t help but be in awe of-“ He follows your gaze.

Oh.

You finally take a moment to look towards the owner of the voice tripping over their words. You are met with a shy young man, smiling down in defeat, dimpled lines on the apples of his cheeks.

Him.

“I’m, sorry.” He says before he clears his throat to speak again.

“I couldn’t help but be in awe of your beauty, and it seems I know why.” He finishes. He finally looks you in the eyes.

Sung Hanbin, Sector Two.

“You have eyes I long for, but I see they burn for something else.” He finishes saying, a heartbreakingly respectful but sad smile gracing his face.

You just stare back in awe.

“Have a wonderful night, Your Majesty.” He says, defeat running rampant in his pretty eyes.

“I wish you happiness and health in abundance; truly.” He lets out, bowing before sending you one last smile.

He’s real.

You’re taken aback for a moment as you watch his figure fade back into the crowd, but then you remember the fire that was lit inside you before this interaction.

Right.

Whiskers was sadly the last of your worries right now, and the next thing that happens just confirms this.

When you turn back around, you meet eyes with him.

This time, he’s closer than you’d thought he’d be and you almost bump into his chest as a whole. With a few swift movements his hand finds your elbow, helping to steady you.

You can feel the warmth from him seep onto you—or maybe it was coming from you?

“There you are. I thought pretty boy might have entranced you.” He states, shooting a look in the direction whiskers had left. He over fixates on that area but you continue to look up at him and stare, taking him in all over again.

When he looks back down at you, the glint in his eyes change.

Ricky.

“Prince Quanrui.” You utter out.

His eyes turn blank.

You chuckle.

“Ricky?” You question, searching his eyes for change.

His eyebrows frown, and he tilts his head at you with his hands still placed on your elbow, but there’s that spark of life that’s ignited after you call him by his nickname.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” He questions, completely confused.

You smile up at him genuinely.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever regarded him as adorable before, but what was cute if not him right now?

“I really love daisies, did you know?” You ask, taking him in for all that he is, not caring if you two were stood standing in the middle of the banquet.

He speaks up quickly after registering your words, leaving no time or space to ponder them, “Nonsense, roses are your favorite—especially the red ones. Who are you and what did you do with the Queen?” He asks playfully, letting go of your arm and looking around like the playfull person he always was.

You stare at him, probably smiling like an idiot. He just waits for your response but when it never comes, he looks down at you in confusion.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He finally decides to ask once his eyes land on yours.

“Ricky, I know you’re in love with me.” You state plainly.

His heart drops and you can see the warmth leave his face. He scoffs ironically, and looks around anxiously whilst he dusts himself off.

“Wow, that’s a good one, Your Highness. You’re really getting good at that-“ He starts, but before he can finish his fluster of a comeback, you grab him by the collar and pull him close.

It wasn’t close enough for your faces to be touching, but now your faces were closer than they’d ever been before. You can hear his breath get caught in his throat, and you watch as he gulps in order to cope with what was happening.

You smirk, looking into his eyes.

You were definitely starting to feel the power of a Queen alright.

“Ricky, I’m going to walk away. And when I do, I will continue to walk and never look back.” You whisper as you study him.

You watch as his eyes looked down to your lips and back up.

Precisely.

However, before you could even pull away, you are yanked forward as he brings his lips next to your ear.

“Let’s say you are correct; I am madly in love with you,” He starts out as a whisper, “…are you willing to deal with the repercussions?”

His tone is playful, and you can hear the smile in his words. He was definitely acknowledging the fact that you two had already been acting so inappropriately infront of all your guests—yet he did not care and was waiting for your permission to proceed.

Waiting for you to acknowledge him fully for what he was.

The sworn enemy who was supposed to hate your guts.

You smirk as you pull away.

“Rules and repercussions are for the people; I am your Queen.” You state boldly, a smile radiating onto your face.

He smiles too, your words garnering a laugh as he pulls away and slightly throws his head back in amusement.

He was really something.

When he leans back towards your face in an effort to keep the conversation between just the two of you, your heart to ascends into your throat.

“Y/n, are you serious?” He asks as he searches in each of your eyes for any sign of regret or even a glint of mischief. He really hoped this wasn’t a joke despite your two’s very playful attitudes.

You watch him, knowing that deep down this is all you’ve ever wanted. Then you send him a smile; and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

Within seconds he pulls you in, placing his pretty lips onto yours.

Finally.

Even the gasps you could hear from around you couldn’t tear you out of the moment you were having.

He was delicate with you; moving his lips on yours like you’d wither from beneath him. His hand that now held your waist inched you closer and closer; it was as if the act you two were in the middle of still wasn’t close enough for him.

When you finally pull away, he places one last kiss on your lips, before he stares down at them. A grin makes it’s way onto his face before he’s looking around at the people in the room without ever meeting your eyes.

He ignores the angry looks on his people’s face, deciding to shoot them the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen as he focuses back in on you.

“I knew the dream potion would work, maybe meeting you through your dreams wasn’t a bad idea.” He mutters, grasping your hand and pulling you back in and close to him.

Your expression falls as your eyes go wide.

“What did you say?” You ask, half trying to process his words, half going to lose your mind if you heard him correctly.

He freezes and stares down at you like a dear caught in headlights.

Once again, you don’t know why that imagery popped in your head, but alas.

“It’s nothing, Your Majesty. May i have this dance?” He asks cheekily, not knowing if he should continue to play it off or make a run for it. He was always so playful and mischievous.

He was always so…himself.

He was always Ricky.

And you liked every bit of him unfortunately.

He was your favorite.

“Going once…Going twice…” He lets out playfully, holding his hand out closer towards you to take. You do so gracefully, a smile now making its way back onto your face.

When he leads you to the center of the dance floor, he pulls you close and urges you to rest your head near his heart. The music plays on and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you two in disbelief—but it did not matter.

This was your favorite place to be.

“Did you know I actually prefer daisies?” Ricky speaks out of nowhere, his soothing tone cutting through the music that played throughout the hall as you lifted your head and searched his eyes.

There it was again.

That pretty cat-eye gaze of his; fixated only on you.

“They’re my favorite, Y/n…”

“You’re my favorite.”

2024 © lovepookie

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[inkedells]

dub/non-con joel x f!reader drabble? sorry if this is too much i just need some toxic asf joel rn 😵‍💫

A/N: HUGEEE CW!! intense non-con featuring joel. he says and does a lot of alarming things here. there's blood and guns and toxicity in general. last warning, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!!

mdni!!! fr guys. | requests open but replies not guaranteed.

You moaned.

And you shouldn’t have, because you didn’t want this. Or at least you thought you didn’t; You did scream when Joel removed his gun from the confines of his belt, proceeding to hold the gun to your temple as his other hand yanked your jeans down to your knees and began playing with your pussy. “Better start enjoying yourself darlin’, because I’m takin’ my sweet, sweet time.”

And you did attempt to bite his hand when it found its way to your jaw, prying it open with his fingers and gripping it like a handle. “Go ahead,” he laughed, “Try telling me to stop now.” 

And yes, you stomped on his foot the minute he decided you just made way too much fuckin’ noise and shoved you downwards until your knees buckled, hands twisting in your hair as he pushed your face against his confined dick, using your face the same way a teenage boy would fuck his mattress. “Look a’you. Reduced to my fuck toy.”

His consequent smirk made your blood boil.

But, now, with his gun in your mouth as he fucked you deep and hard and fast, you felt wetness rolling down your inner thigh, and you worried it was your arousal. He’ll know I'm enjoying myself.

You didn’t know it was your blood dripping from your pussy, an effect of his brutal pace and unrelenting desire to feel himself bulge in your belly, until Joel swiped a finger through the blood to show you before bringing it to his own mouth.

“See, baby? I’m a gentleman, I clean up the messes I leave behind.” 

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if you enjoyed please remember to like and especially reblog! it's sososo appreciated!

[prismuffin]

How would the bat boys, Conner and Wally (separately) react to being caught stealing their masc crush's hoodie?

So maybe Reader is gone on a trip or missing, or just went out for the day and forgot his jacket on his way out.

They see the left behide hoodie, and try it on really loving how it your hoodie looks on them. Maybe they end up falling asleep snuggled into it, when watching a moive in the common-room? Or were just going about their day wearing it.

Either way, at some point they get caught red handed, the Reader being flirty with them about the hoodie. Saying how they look good in his hoodie and they should keep it.

The guy crush asks are kinda my faves idk KSBDHSBDJS LMFAO these got king asf sorry?- anyways lol I think that-

Jason would rather die than be caught doing something like this. That’s why he’s being so quiet, putting on the hoodie he found laying over the back of some chair, your hoodie to be exact. Your scent filled his nose as he slid the jacket over his head, inhaling deeply. The original plan was to just try it on, he wouldn’t wear it for long in fear of being caught. But as he sat down on the couch, imagining your arms wrapped around him as he snuggled deeper into the fabric, he wasn’t so sure about taking it off just yet. Eventually he awoke to you shaking him, his brain not even rendering what he was wearing until the words left your mouth, “you look real cute in my hoodie Jason, but it’s cold as balls outside so I’m gonna need that back.” You smirked as his eyes widened. Shooting up here was quick to stutter out an attempt at an explanation though your laughter cut him off. You said he could keep the hoodie on since he likes wearing it so much and you’ll just go find another. It didn’t even render to him that you’d previously called him cute until you left.

Dick would probably not even be trying to find your hoodie, you left in quite a rush, saying a quick goodbye as you passed him. He just wandered to the common room where he saw your hoodie laid out. It was practically calling him, and he knew you wouldn’t be back for a while so he just threw it on. His hearts racing as the scent of you engulfs his senses anddddd now he can’t take it off. Loves just going about his day in your hoodie and just smelling it every now and then it’s very relaxing. Eventually though you come back and see him strutting through the halls in your hoodie and some sweatpants. You clear your throat and he spins around so fucking fast. He’s speechless as your raise your eyebrow, eyeing you hoodie before looking at him again. Welp, he’s been caught red handed not much to say. He’d shrug it off with a sheepish apology, getting ready for his fun to end, but the second you start flirting with him by telling him he looks good in it and that he can keep it he’s beaming. He’s never been so happy. Proudly wears your hoodie for the rest of the day.

Tim would noticed your hoodie, grabbing it with a confused expression. He knows it’s rather cold out and that you were in a rush so he tries to catch you before you get too far only to find out from Dick that you already left. He’s not sure how, perhaps he leaned too deep into the temptation of it but he was somehow wearing your hoodie sitting over his desk as he sketched out some blueprints. It was comforting to wear, it fit him well and it smelled like you, one of his hands would perpetually be holding the fabric near his nose because of this. You come back wayyy sooner than he expected you to. Busting in his room, you ask if he’s seen your hoodie anywhere. “Dick said you were the last person to-“ the silence that fills the air is suffocating. He doesn’t know if you’re gonna yell or laugh and he just stares, his face getting increasingly more red. Eventually you just blink and tell him he looks good and he’s quick to say sorry and to start taking the jacket off. You stop him, telling him you’ll just find another, winking before you leave. He face plants into the desk afterwards.

Conner would most likely put it on by accident. It was in his laundry so it had to be his, though he quickly realized this wasn’t the case. Even then he couldn’t help but wear the comforting jacket after learning it was yours. You weren’t at base today anyways so it shouldn’t be a problem. Like Dick, he’d go on about his day just wearing your hoodie while doing menial tasks. He feels much closer to you while wearing it and finds himself often hugging the fabric closer to him. When you come back and see him he’s pretty embarrassed, he hadn’t expected to come face to face with you when walking into the kitchen, let alone while wearing your hoodie. “I’ve been looking for that,” you gestures towards the hoodie, smirking while crossing your arms. He apologized immediately and quickly explained how it ended up in his laundry. He asked if you wanted it back and you said no, that he should keep it because it looks cute on him. You looking him up and down like that is gonna make him pass out.

Wally would have been resting in your room as you got ready to leave, saying goodbye as you finished and left. His eyes would drift over to a chair where your hoodie rested on the back and he’d gasp. “Oh no! Y/n left his hoodie!” …. “Y/n left his hoodie~” He’d practically skip over to the chair, almost tripping in the process as he throws the garment over his head. “and it smells like him too,” he’d dreamily sigh before deciding to go watch a movie! He’d totally forget he was even wearing it to be honest, well not completely. He’d still know he was but he’d forget that it was something he technically shouldn’t be doing. “Having fun in my jacket?” His eyes shot in your direction, his hand full of popcorn pausing near his mouth as he stared at you. He gulped down nothing but his embarrassment as he tried to sheepishly greet you, his blush creeping down to his neck. He’d try and use an excuse but you’d just cut him off, saying that he should keep the hoodie on since he looks so cute. This man almost exploded at those words, his heart was definitely beating faster than any normal humans should. You’d wink before he left and he’d practically crumple in on himself. He’s like water in your hands at that point.

———

Directory

[harmslength]

(Mostly) NSFW Headcanons Part III

Disclaimer: Slight spoilers so be warned. Just covering movies I have seen or characters I know enough about to judge. This is just for funsies, just my own personal opinions, so it’s totally okay if you disagree. Fully aware how much of an ass I’m being. Horny hater at my core.

Disco Pigs (2001) | Enda Walsh, Kirsten Sheridan - Darren

• starting out strong with THE freak of freaks

• not to state the obvious but.. possessive, dominating, jealous asf but also loyal asf

• Incel ass behavior, would definitely have a Reddit account, frequent user of 4chan.

• would jerk off to hentai titties if he could

• would probably ask you to do the ahegao face during sex…

On the Edge (2001) | John Carney - Jonathan Breech

• as much as he would hate to admit it.. hopeless romantic. Super devoted but would have an annoying tendency to flirt with other girls to see if you’d get jealous.

• honestly.. great first bf to have. Would absolutely destroy your perception of what love should be.. but hey isn’t that first loves?

• heavy breathing and moaning in your ear. Loves to give hickeys.

Sunburn (1999) | Nelson Hume - Davin McDerby

• oh davin… dead beat baby daddy fr.. loved his character arc regardless tho

• ngl probably absolute shit in bed. He screams premature ejaculator..

• has a porn addiction, but would hide it from you

• would pick up edging and would talk about your sex life very openly with “the boys”

• loves sending nudes and nut vids if he had the chance

Intermission (2003) | John Crowley - John

• he has no qualms about saying it: you’re a whore 😌

• probably feels the need to be in charge and take control but really.. you’d be the one calling the shots mostly

• definitely the type to make stupid jokes during sex

• whiny, would definitely triple text if you didn’t respond fast enough

• still a cutie ofc

• jealousy is his middle name

Girl with the Pearl Earring (2003) | Peter Webber - Pieter

• breeding kink but not in the fun way. Breeding kink in the way where he would wanna fuck like rabbits and procreate like rabbits.

• would want you to have like 6 of his kids is what I’m saying

• acts like he’s touch starved half the time, really handsy, likes to tease and leave kisses all over you

• knows how to handle his meat

At Deaths Door (1999) | Conor Morrissey - Young Reaper

• this one is just for shits and giggles

• it’s giving virgin, inexperienced but passionate

• shy asf, again you’d probably have to make the first move