#a part of me feels tempted to go for full points completion as much as i can just bc i feel like i made a build that's well-made

[tinydefector]

Behind the Scenes 3- DC

Tim Drake x Male reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: none

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The group continued their tour of the nursery, with Sarah pointing out various plants and offering suggestions for what might fit Tim’s preferences or rather, Alfred’s preferences, since Tim was clearly here under protest. But as they moved from section to section, Tim couldn’t help but glance back toward the greenhouse every now and then. Y/N was still working, still humming softly to himself, completely unaware of the attention he’d drawn. For some reason. Tim didn't know why it rubbed him the wrong way, but it felt as if his detective scenes were screaming at him that something was amidst.

Alfred was practically glowing as he wandered through the nursery, carefully selecting plants with the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered a new hobby. Tim, meanwhile, trailed behind, holding a few pots that Alfred had gleefully handed him, a resigned but amused expression on his face, he knew better than to argue with Alfred when he was in his element.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred said, examining a small flowering bush with a critical eye, “I believe this one would look stunning by the east-facing windows in the manor. Don’t you agree?” Tim sighed, shifting the weight of the pots in his arms. “Sure, Alfred. At this point, you could bring home a cactus and I’d agree.” Alfred looked over his shoulder, raising a brow. “Don’t tempt me, sir. I might just take you up on that.”

Sarah, who had been helping Alfred navigate the nursery, chuckled as she placed another plant on a nearby cart. “You’ve got quite the eye, Alfred. Not everyone takes this much care in choosing plants.”

“Attention to detail is a skill I pride myself on,” Alfred replied, his tone light but sincere. “After all, these plants are going to be part of Wayne Manor. It’s only right to give them the consideration they deserve.” Tim rolled his eyes, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘home’ like another dozen plants taking over the manor.”

“Oh, come now, sir,” Alfred said, gesturing toward a particularly vibrant bottlebrush shrub. “Surely even you can appreciate the charm of this. Imagine it in full bloom, attracting bees and birds to the garden.” Tim blinked. “ i see that and think, hmm remember last time America decided to buy a large collection of trees, it's what resulted in there being so many Eucalyptus trees, and I know how flammable they are” Tim remarks but his eyes do catch onto a few small pots with spreader plants, mainly little flowers.

But even while he looked at the smaller plants, his eyes kept creeping back to Y/n, Sarah noticed “ Sometimes I think he's a druid.” She says with a smile, she knew well how much work Y/n put into the plants, testing new fertiliser mixes making sure plants were watered enough. She knew he had multiple notebooks with details in them over different plants.

Tim looked at her curiously. “A druid?” “Yeah,” Sarah said with a laugh. “That’s what the team around here calls him. He’s great with animals too. It’s like he’s got this natural connection to... well, nature itself.” Tim raised a brow, his mind immediately flashing to ‘Her’. It was probably nothing, just a coincidence. But Sarah’s praise, the way Y/N moved so effortlessly among the plants, and the strange sense of familiarity Tim couldn’t quite place. it was all starting to feel a little too reminiscent of Poison Ivy. He kept his suspicions to himself, though, offering Sarah a polite nod as she continued to talk.

---

Alfred’s enthusiasm led to quite the haul, and the cart was quickly filled with a variety of plants,

Correa Dusky Bells

Australian daisy

Violet kunzea

Ragged robin

Foxglove

Snake's head fritillary

American Bellflower

New Jersey Tea Redroot

Eastern Redbud.

Crimson-eyed Rose-mallow

Marshmallow Hibiscus

Royal Fern

These were just some of the newer things outside of a collection of Tea plants and herbs. As the cart grew fuller, Tim found himself holding yet another pot Alfred handed him. He sighed dramatically but couldn’t help the fond smile forming on his face.

“You’re really going all out, Alfred,” Tim said. “Of course,” Alfred replied, selecting a tray of Echinacea. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly.” Tim shook his head in amusement, had he known Alfred enjoyed this he would have told the older man to do it more often, he seemed so in his element reading tags and debating on where the best place to place the plants would be. “Alright, Alfred,” Tim said, adjusting the pots in his arms. “Let’s get these plants home before you decide to buy out the entire nursery.”

“An excellent idea, sir,” Alfred replied with a smile. “Though I must say, there’s still time to pick up a cactus or two.” “Don’t push your luck,” Tim said with a chuckle, following Alfred and Sarah toward the office. Despite the lingering questions about Y/N, Tim couldn’t deny that the trip had been peaceful. For Alfred’s sake, it was worth it and he would happily do it again.

It didn’t take long to get the plants paid for and loaded into the car. Alfred was in high spirits, practically beaming as he helped the nursery staff carefully arrange the pots in the trunk and backseat.“Careful with that correa, please,” Alfred said, directing one of the workers as they secured the plants. “It’s quite delicate, and I’d hate for any of the petals or leaves to be damaged before we even get home.”

Tim stood off to the side,watching the scene with mild amusement. “You’re acting like you just adopted a dozen new kids, Alfred.” “Plants require care and attention, Master Timothy,” Alfred replied, his tone teasing but firm. “Much like a child, they thrive under the right conditions.”

“Right,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “Except, you know, they don’t cry at 3 a.m. or need college tuition.” Alfred glanced over his shoulder, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps not, but I do recall a certain young man who once managed to knock over an entire potted fern in the manor’s sitting room. Twice.”

Tim groaned. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” “Not likely,” Alfred said with a smirk. Just as the last of the plants were loaded into the car, Sarah walked up to say goodbye. “You’ve got quite the haul here, Alfred. Your garden’s going to look amazing.”

“Thank you, Sarah,” Alfred said warmly, shaking her hand. “And thank you for your help today. It’s always a pleasure.” “Anytime,” Sarah said, waving them off as they climbed into the car. “Come back soon!”

As Alfred started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, Tim leaned back in his seat, finally feeling like the day was coming to a close. He glanced at the carefully arranged plants in the backseat and the small tray of cacti sitting on the center console.

“Wait a second,” Tim said, narrowing his eyes at the cacti. “What’s with those?” Alfred kept his gaze on the road, but his lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I thought they’d make a lovely addition to your room, sir.” “My room?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alfred, I don’t even like plants.”

“Precisely,” Alfred replied with a faint chuckle. “That’s why I chose cacti. They require very little care, and they’re quite resilient. Perfect for someone who claims to have no time for gardening. Think of it as a lesson in time management, you only need to water them once every week and only a very small amount”

Tim stared at the tiny cacti, their spiky little bodies mocking him from their neat tray. “You got these just to tease me, didn’t you?” “Perhaps,” Alfred said innocently, though the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. Tim groaned, shaking his head but unable to suppress a small smile. “You’re lucky I like you, Alfred.”

“And you’re lucky I’m so fond of you, Master Timothy,” Alfred replied smoothly. The rest of the drive back to Wayne Manor was peaceful, the car filled with the faint scent of the different flowers. Alfred hummed quietly to himself as he drove, clearly pleased with the day’s acquisitions, while Tim scrolled absentmindedly on his phone, occasionally glancing at the cacti on the console.

For all his grumbling, Tim couldn’t deny that the trip had been worth it. Seeing Alfred so happy and getting a break from the chaos of corporate life made it all worthwhile. Even if he now had a few tiny cacti to look after.

When the car pulled up to the grand entrance of Wayne Manor, Tim immediately noticed his own car parked neatly in the driveway. He narrowed his eyes slightly, already piecing together the situation. “Alfred,” Tim started, a mix of suspicion and amusement in his tone, “did you have someone bring my car back while we were out?”

“Of course, Master Timothy,” Alfred replied smoothly as he shifted the car into park. “It wouldn’t do for you to be stranded here without a means of transportation.” Tim raised a brow. “Let me guess. It was Bruce, wasn’t it?” Alfred’s expression was neutral, but the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes gave him away. “I may have requested Master Bruce’s assistance, yes. He happened to be available.”

“Right,” Tim muttered, shaking his head as he opened the car door. Alfred stepped out as well, walking around to the trunk to begin unloading the larger plants. But before Tim could offer to help, Alfred waved him off with a polite but firm look.

“Go on, sir, and do not forget your Cacti” Alfred said, reminding Tim to grab the small tray. “I’m sure you’ve had quite enough plants for one day. I’ll see to the rest.”

Tim hesitated for a moment, glancing at the tray in his hands and sighed. “You’re really not going to let me forget about these, are you?” “Not in the slightest,” Alfred replied with a slight smile. “Now, off you go. I’m sure Master Damien is lurking somewhere nearby, no doubt eager to interrogate you about your day.”

Tim rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a small grin as he turned toward the Manor. “Fine, fine. Thanks for the ride, Alfred.” “Anytime, Master Timothy.”

With that, Tim made his way inside, the cool interior of the Manor a welcome contrast to the warmth of the afternoon sun. He adjusted the tray in his hands as he walked through the main hall, already mentally preparing for whatever questions Damien might throw at him.

He didn’t have to wait long. As he rounded a corner into the living room, Damien was perched on one of the armchairs, a sketchbook balanced on his knee. He looked up the moment Tim walked in, his sharp green eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the sight of his older brother holding the small tray with a plant on it.

“You’re back,” Damien said, setting the sketchbook aside. “And... what’s that? A tiny plant?” Tim groaned internally, knowing exactly where this was going. “Yes, Damien. They’re cacti. Alfred’s idea.” A smirk tugged at the corners of Damien’s mouth as he stood, crossing his arms. “Alfred bought you plants? Why?”

“Because apparently I need to ‘brighten up my room’ or something,” Tim said, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “And because Alfred apparently has a sense of humor.” Damien stepped closer, inspecting the little cacti with a critical eye. “You? With plants? I give them a week before they’re dead.”

Tim glared at him. “They’re cacti, Damien. They barely need water. Even I can handle that.” “Mm,” Damien said, clearly unconvinced. He reached out and poked one of the tiny things with his finger. “Still, I can’t imagine you keeping these alive for long. You’re hardly the ‘nurturing’ type.”

Tim sighed, placing the plant down gently on the table before flopping onto the couch. “Why are you like this?” he groans while shooting a gallery at Damien “Because, unlike you, I actually have standards,” Damien replied smugly, sitting down across from him.

Tim shook his head, leaning back against the cushions. “You’re unbelievable.” “And yet, here I am,” Damien said with a shrug. He glanced at the tray again, his expression softening slightly. “...They’re not terrible, though. The succulents are well-formed, and the cacti look healthy. Alfred has good taste.”

“Gee, thanks,” Tim said dryly. Damien leaned back in his seat, his smirk returning. “So, what was this all about? Why were you out buying plants in the first place?” Tim sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alfred wanted to pick out some new plants for the Manor, and I got dragged along for the ride. The entire trip was basically him having the time of his life while I held pots and tried not to lose my mind.”

Damien raised a brow. “And the cacti?” “Alfred’s parting gift,” Tim said with a wry smile. “I think he just wanted to mess with me.” Damien hummed softly, shaking his head. “Well, at least he didn’t make you carry home an entire garden. Though I’d pay good money to see you trying to take care of plants.”

Tim shot him a look. “Don’t you have something better to do?” “Not at the moment,” Damien said, clearly enjoying himself. Tim groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. “I should’ve stayed at the nursery.” Damien picks up his sketchbook again. “Maybe next time, you can bring me along. I’m far better suited to such endeavors.”

Tim didn’t bother replying, instead closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh. He’d survived the day, but between Alfred’s teasing and Damien’s relentless commentary, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever live it down. At least the cacti were quiet. For now.

Tim carried the tray up to his room, his mind still circling back to the day’s events. As much as he tried to brush it off, something about Y/N didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t anything overt—no obvious signs of wrongdoing, no strange behavior, but Tim’s instincts were rarely wrong. And today, they were screaming at him that something was off.

Once inside his room, he placed the tray on his desk, staring at the tiny plants with a sigh. “Where the hell am I even supposed to put you guys?” He glanced around the room, mentally cataloging potential spots: his desk already had enough clutter, the windowsill barely got any sunlight, and there was no way he was putting them on the nightstand. After a moment, he shrugged and shoved the tray to the corner of the desk. “Good enough. You’ll survive or you won’t. Not my problem.”

With that settled, Tim grabbed his laptop and flopped onto the bed, his usual habit of multitasking kicking in. He opened his laptop, intending to catch up on emails or Wayne Enterprises reports, along with reading back over the information Dick had sent him over Riddler and his doings. In truth he was just happy to be back in his own domain if only until dinner time.

But one thought kept coming back to him, why did this Y/n remind him so much of Her. “Ivy,” Tim muttered under his breath, his fingers already flying across the keyboard as he started his search. He had never known her to be very social, she had made an exception for Harley Quinn, but even then they didn't socialise with a lot of other rogues keeping to themselves and their ‘territory’

He started with the basics: a quick search of Y/N’s full name, filtering through social media accounts, job listings, and anything else that might give him a clearer picture.

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Slowly working on the next chapter outside of moving horses, I'll be hopeful doing another transformers fic update in the next few days.

[imunbreakabledude]

Dragon trophy officially earned for Leagues V! in just over a month. it FELT a bit longer than last time, but I just looked back and it took me about 6 weeks last time around. so i guess that's the difference of me not having a full time job this time, lol. but it definitely was tougher to get Dragon on one hand (higher point threshold, no 25m/35m tasks for combat stats), but also i think it felt less like a slog this time vs last time because I had a lot of more "engaging" points available from raids, and I also specifically picked some relics that would alleviate the grinds that felt most painful last time (mostly RC, mining, and agility).

I MIGHT play a little more on this account just for fun/to see how high i can get my rank, but honestly I probably won't; I am craving the slow but permanent progress of the maingame. OR i might bond up an alt to try another build since there's a good amount of time left (I would love to try a VTM melee build).

I am proud of how I did this time though! I cleared 1 billion XP. I had more gold than I knew what to do with, even without Golden God. I feel that I actually did learn some good skills for TOA, even with it being piss easy with relics, of course; I got a lot more familiarity with the bosses and the timing which I think will help a lot with reducing frustration in the maingame (though it will be PAINFUL to go from never missing to ... usually missing). I did the Inferno for the first time even in Leagues. I did some solo CoX, scuffed yes, but still did it. I had some fun with the Tbow at the end, and great fun with the drygore blowpipe and venator bow before that. I played a mix of efficiency and fun that worked out for me. and I got my second Dragon trophy! :)

Areas, relics, stats, etc. above. I also did unlock the 10th combat mastery point, but didn't bother spending it.

Some more little stats just for fun:

Overall Rank (as of right now): 7209

League Points Rank (as of right now): 4602

Highest Rank for Any Hiscores Category: Skotizo, currently rank 105 with 45 kills (I got loads of totems doing slayer anyways, and figured I might as well kill the boss for the relatively-common shot at a jar. didn't get it tho.)

Collection Log Slots Filled: 609 (i was very tempted to go for the 750 log slots task even though it was not remotely 'efficient' for points when just going for Dragon. I just like clogging! but then thinking it thru i was like, the time i spend doing that i could instead get clogs in the real game... alas...)

Pets obtained: 5 (Abyssal Protector, Kalphite Princess, Herbi, Skotos, Tumeken's Guardian). (this adds on to my singular pet from last League, Callisto Cub).

Craziest Drop: 3rd age platebody from a clue, very rare even in Leagues. Honorable mention to Herbi pet from like, 60 herbiboars (pets not boosted)

Hardest Task Completed (according to Wiki's crowdsourced completion rates): Complete the Fight Caves 10 times, which apparently has 0.4% completion. I guess people just don't want to spend the time which is fair bc it's pretty boring. But i wanted the CAs and slayer XP and I had like 7 clears already last night so just decided to skip for tasks and ran 3 more in a row since they're braindead and 20 min.)

Easiest Task NOT Completed: Enter Puro-Puro from a Crop Circle, the only 10 pt task I didn't complete. I just never saw one around and couldn't be bothered to go out of my way to find one.

Task I Can't Believe I Didn't Fucking Get: Equip full Masori, which apparently has been achieved by over 14% of people per wikisync, while less than 2% of people have completed 50 ToA, which is where I left off. Granted not every single one of my raids was a guaranteed purple, but I rolled 38 purples, ELEVEN of which were masori pieces. 9 bodies and 2 legs. i mean, on the bright side, the mask was probably the best piece to be missing...)

Relic Choice I Most Regret: None! lmao I was quite happy with my choices. as I said I'm tempted by some REGIONS and builds I didn't experience, so I may try out an alt, but for now I'm taking a break. Hopefully for at least a day or two lmao

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets the update he's been waiting for. You get something you weren't expecting. Neither of you can tell the other how you're feeling.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You drove Bradley's Bronco back to his house, dragged yourself back inside, and climbed back in bed. You cried so hard when you watched him carry his duffle bag into the airport, you had painful hiccups for twenty minutes afterwards. Now you were emotionally drained and on the cusp of a headache, and this was only the first day.

With your cheek on Bradley's pillow, you pulled the covers over your head and took a few deep breaths. He didn't know much about his deployment, but the communication blackout was designed to keep you from learning anything. If something happened to him, it might be weeks before you heard about it. Your heart ached as you thought about how lonely he was going to feel after he made it a point to tell you how much he loved getting mail from your class last time.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you scrambled to get it out.

About to take off. I love you, Gorgeous. I'll let you know when I land.

Well, you had about six hours to kill until you would hear from him again, which felt bad enough. Then seven full weeks after that. You typed back to him with fresh tears in your eyes, and then you tried to sleep, but the hiccups came back. When you moved to the couch, it felt too cold. You were tempted to call Natasha, but if you couldn't even make it a handful of hours without Bradley, you didn't think she would be able to help you.

It would start to get better. It would have to. When your winter break ended, you'd be back in your classroom with your students. You could dive into your lesson plans for the new year. You could focus on teaching. You could do this. Because if you found out the hard way that you couldn't, then you had no business being with Bradley.

--------------------------

Bradley was given a tiny room in the barracks on base in Norfolk, and he spent the entire night talking to you on the phone. Literally six hours straight before he passed out, sound asleep, hanging halfway off the bed with his phone connected to the charger. One of the last things he remembered you saying was, "As soon as you know if it's San Diego or Norfolk, let me know. I love you."

The following morning, he was so exhausted, he was practically dizzy as he met with his commanding officer, Admiral Walker, for this new special deployment. Even his arm felt heavy as he saluted Walker in his office. It was barely seven o'clock which equated to four in the morning in San Diego, and he knew it would take him a few days to get caught back up on sleep at this point. But every second of talking to you was worth it.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. Welcome back to the Atlantic Fleet," Walker told him, gesturing to the empty chair in the office. 

"Thank you, Sir," he replied, even though he was far less than thrilled to be back in Virginia at all. The prospect of a change of station could not have come at a worse time when he spent the flight from California looking at engagement rings on his phone.

As Bradley sat down, the older man said, "We never wanted to lose you to the Pacific in the first place, so I'm sure you can understand why you'll be staying on the east coast after your seven weeks on the Gerald R. Ford is complete."

His heart sank to his feet, and he felt like he was going to throw up. "Sir?" Bradley asked. "That's it? There's no chance of me returning to North Island?"

When the response he got was a raised eyebrow, Bradley pressed his lips into a line. This man wasn't going to give a shit that he owned a house in Coronado or that he was in love with the most beautiful woman in the world who happened to work in Mira Mesa. Something told him that keeping his mouth shut was the better option right now, even though he felt like punching a hole in the wall and flipping the desk.

Walker shuffled some papers on his desk. "Plans still need to be finalized, but it is our goal, and the goal of the US Navy, to change your station to Norfolk."

The words echoed in Bradley's mind. He couldn't decide if he should tell you about this yet. It wasn't like he had signed paperwork in his hand. Until he did, as far as he was concerned, he was going back to Top Gun and the love of his life. He knew you were stressed and concerned enough as it was, and he didn't want you to have to dwell on this unless it was finalized. 

"Once aboard the carrier, mission details will become available to you and the other aviators," Walker informed him. "I have a folder with your bunk assignment and some more information that you can take with you right now. You'll have access to your phone for about another hour, but as soon as you report to the carrier, it will need to be shut down and locked up. Are we clear, Lieutenant?"

Before Bradley could even respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Walker heaved a weary sigh as his gaze left Bradley's face, and he barked, "Come in."

Of all the faces he knew from North Island, Bradley wasn't exactly sure if it was a friendly one, but when the door opened, Admiral Simpson came strolling inside in his service khakis. He couldn't fathom why his meeting was being interrupted by Cyclone, but he sat quietly with the folder in his hands. 

"Admiral Walker," Beau Cyclone greeted, voice as stern as ever. "You never returned my calls, and red eye flights the week of Christmas are not something I find endearing."

Walker stood behind his desk with all of his accolades hanging on the wall behind him, and Bradley jumped to his feet as well. "Admiral Simpson," Walker replied, voice dripping with disdain. "There was no need for you to fly out in person to release your pilot to my fleet."

Bradley could hear Cyclone's knuckles crack as he watched his eye twitch. He was somehow caught in the middle of this, but it looked like the Top Gun admiral was in no mood to be outmaneuvered and lose a member of his team. Bradley silently goaded him on while he stood there completely still.

"I'm not releasing anyone to you. That's not how this works," Cyclone barked. "If you can't manage your fleet, you don't get to poach from mine."

The admirals seemed to be in a competition to see whose face could get redder. "Admiral Simpson, I'm sure you'll find my rank alone is reason enough for-"

"You do not outrank me," Cyclone interrupted, voice loud but calm. Then he turned toward Bradley with his jaw clenched and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw. You are dismissed. Please board the USS Gerald R. Ford on time for your deployment."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, saluting both men before walking back out into the hallway on slightly unsteady legs. He paused, hoping to hear some more of their conversation or an outright blow up that would give him a clue as to what the fuck was going on, but instead he walked the rest of the way to the barracks to collect his duffle and head to the docks. 

With his phone in his hand once again and his bag slung over his shoulder, Bradley called you. He knew it was early and he'd be waking you up, but time was tight now. And your voice was the only thing that would keep him sane at the moment. 

"Bradley," you sighed a second later, and he pressed his phone tighter to his ear. 

"Baby, I miss you so much," he promised, heart aching. He swallowed hard and decided not to bring up anything that was going on since he didn't have a completely clear understanding of it himself. "I'm about to board the carrier."

He could hear you crying, and he wanted to kick himself. "Just come back safely. That's all I want. As long as you're safe, that's all that matters to me, okay?"

He was having a hard time keeping his own tears at bay. "Me, too. We'll figure out the rest of it later, Gorgeous. Take care of yourself. Write in the journal. And don't forget to check the mail."

"I love you, Bradley!"

"I love you so much."

As soon as he ended the call and turned off his phone, he had to walk through a small building for security screening. It was there that his bag and phone were taken from him. When he exited the other side, his duffle was handed back to him, but his phone was not.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," the petty officer told him with a shrug when he glared. "I'll tag it for you and return it when you get back to Norfolk. At least it's not a long deployment."

Bradley couldn't even argue with that. It wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things. He'd been overseas for a full twelve months at a time when he was younger. This should have felt like nothing, but he knew it would feel like the worst one. He hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and started to head for the bunk that would be his for the duration. There was no sense in standing on deck when there was nobody who would be looking for him to see him off.

He made it down two hallways before a loud voice echoed off the walls around him. "Lieutenant Bradshaw." When he turned, Admiral Simpson was heading his way, face so red it was almost purple. Bradley's heart sank.

"Yes, sir?"

The other man pulled his composure together, sighing like an angry bull. "While you will be under the command of Admiral Walker for this deployment, you will fly directly back to San Diego when you return to port in Norfolk. You'll be presented with the paperwork today."

Bradley's jaw dropped open. "I'm returning to the Pacific Fleet, Sir?"

He got one firm nod in response. "I told you last week that I would do what I could to retain you."

This was honestly the best case scenario, and Bradley could feel some of his tension melt away. "You weren't kidding," he mumbled before clearing his throat. "Thank you, Sir. Being in San Diego is important to me."

"Fly safely, Lieutenant. See you in seven weeks," Cyclone barked before turning on his heel and walking toward the ramp back down to the dock.

Bradley pumped his fist in the air. "Fuck, yeah," he whispered, spinning on the spot. He would get to go back to the station he preferred in North Island as well as his friends, but most importantly, he would get to return to you. There would be no stress of packing and moving and hoping you were still willing to come with him. He could stay in Coronado.

When he slid his hand into his pocket to get his phone out to call you back, he froze. "God damn it."

------------------------------

If waiting for emails and letters was bad before, this was torture. The early days of getting to know Bradley through written notes left you with constant butterflies in your tummy, but now it felt like you were walking around with a lead weight instead. You constantly caught yourself reaching for your phone to text him before setting it back down in frustration. 

You hadn't heard from him since before he stepped onto the aircraft carrier, and that was four days ago. Today was New Year's Eve, and at least you had the wine bar with Natasha to look forward to. While you got dressed and ready to go, you couldn't help but put in just the bare minimum amount of effort. What was the point when your boyfriend wasn't even here to give you kisses along your neck and call you Gorgeous? You pouted at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and put the cap on your lip gloss before even using it.

"You look nice," Nat said as you climbed in the front seat of her car. You turned to look at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm wearing Bradley's old sweatshirt with a pair of leggings that are starting to get a hole in the crotch."

She started cackling as she pulled away from the curb. "Well, you still look nice."

"Thanks," you said softly, watching the houses go by. 

As Nat turned toward the highway to head up to Oceanside, she asked, "How are you making out?"

You pressed your lips together for a few seconds, trying to make sure you weren't going to cry. "I'm just having a hard time being off from work while he's gone. It's... harder than I thought it would be. I can't wait to return to my classroom in a few days."

"I'm sure that will make it easier," she agreed. "You'll be so busy, time will start to fly by. Oh, I forgot to ask if you got any interesting mail at Bradley's house since he left?"

You shook your head. "I barely remember to check the mailbox most days. Why?"

"Don't worry about it," she replied smoothly. "You'll be back to work in a few days, but in the meantime, we've got merlot and chardonnay to keep your mind occupied."

"Sounds like you're talking about two hot French men," you said with a laugh.

"I could be! You don't even know!"

Now both of you were laughing. And you were still laughing when you actually did order a glass of merlot and a glass of chardonnay. You and Nat enjoyed some wine flights and cheese platters, and she regaled you with stories about Bradley from flight school.

"When he was twenty-two, he probably weighed a hundred and twenty pounds," she said with a smirk. "He was such a nerd, too. God, it was so bad." You were trying to stifle your laughter as she added, "Once he really started working out and grew the mustache, he thought he was hot shit. He's still a fucking nerd."

"He kind of is," you agreed through your giggles.

"But he's a good one," she promised. "Wears his heart on his sleeve too often, but I don't think he has to worry about you breaking it."

You ran your hand along the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Never."

Once the two of you were filled with cheese and sober enough to get back in the car, you paid for your adventure with the gift card Bradley gave you, only to find out it had five hundred dollars on it.

"Natasha! We need to come back like four more times," you said as you signed the slip.

"I don't see any issue with that," she muttered, leaving cash for a tip. "I think I'll write Bradley an email and thank him for funding girls' day so he can read it when he gets back to Norfolk."

"I think he'd like that."

You started thinking about the journal sitting on the nightstand in his bedroom. Every night before you fell asleep, you'd been pouring your heart and thoughts out into the thing, but even the mention of the word Norfolk had you fretting again. You managed to keep up the conversation with Bradley's best friend as she drove you back to Coronado, but perhaps you should keep most of your things packed after you moved your stuff to his house. What if you had to move to Virginia when the school year ended?

"Thanks for driving," you told her when she pulled up to Bradley's driveway to let you out.

"Anytime," she said, waving you off. "We'll go back up again soon." When you leaned in to give her a hug, she told you, "Don't forget to check the mail."

"Okay."

You weren't sure exactly what her deal was since Bradley couldn't send you anything, but if she wanted you to, then you would. You already promised your boyfriend you'd keep an eye on anything unusual that arrived, so as you walked up to the front door, you took a peek inside the mailbox. Empty. Just like the house. You curled up on the couch with the journal and started to write your daily entry.

I heard from a very reliable source (Natasha) that you were and still are a nerd. I'm going to need to see some pre-stache photos of you when you get home. Your best friend is a wealth of information when you get some wine in her, and I had a great time with her today. 

But I miss you. So much. Sometimes it knocks the breath out of my lungs. Your house is too cold and quiet without you here, hogging the couch and eating snacks. I'm looking forward to school starting up in a few days. It'll be a little less lonely when I have eighteen kids telling me what they got for holiday gifts. Of course I'll have to tell them they won't get a visit from their favorite aviator for a while. We'll just be nineteen sad pen pals.

---------------------------

On January second, you were working on your lesson plans while wearing Bradley's gym shorts and eating potato chips. Tomorrow you'd get back into a routine with work, but first you were going to allow yourself one last day of being kind of pitiful. You bit off more than you could chew with Bradley, and now you were paying the price. 

You sporadically started crying at random times throughout the day, and it was only made worse by the overwhelming feeling of being alone. If you could barely make it a week without hearing from him, how were you going to make random deployments with no communication your lifestyle? Why did you even think you could?

While you were crunching your way through some potato chips, you heard something thump on the front porch. The sound made you jump on the couch, and you set your snack down on the table and crept to the front door. When you peeked outside, there was nobody there, but when you cracked the door open, you saw a box. A fairly large box. Addressed to you.

"Oh my god," you gasped. It was from Bradley. According to the date stamped next to your name, he somehow sent a box from the post office in San Diego last week. "Oh my god!"

You grabbed it and kicked the door shut, almost tripping on your way back to the coffee table. When you tried to claw at the tape, you almost broke your nails. "Scissors," you shouted, running for the kitchen drawer by the sink where your boyfriend kept a random assortment of junk. Then you walked quickly back to the couch and started to cut into the box.

Natasha had to be behind the arrival of the box, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be inside. If Bradley wanted you to have something, he could have simply given it to you before he left. Your heart was pounding as you set the scissors down and looked inside.

"Bradley," you gasped, tears filling your eyes as those familiar butterflies zoomed and swooped around in your belly. You'd been so upset about missing out on his letters, he sent you a whole box of them. There were dozens of envelopes and little treats filling the box nearly to the top, but a neon orange envelope with OPEN ME FIRST written on it caught your eye. You pulled it out of the box and tore into it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm thinking about you right now. Guaranteed. It doesn't matter when you get this box or when you read this note, I'm thinking about how much I love you. And if I'm asleep, I'm dreaming about us eating Thai food on the beach in front of a sunset that is nowhere near as beautiful as you.

I hope you realize there was no way you weren't going to get some letters from me while I'm deployed. I would never let that happen. Somehow, you fell in love with me this way in the first place, and more than anything, I want you to feel as loved as I do. So I filled this box with little notes and long, rambling love letters and things I thought you might like. When you read the individual envelopes, you'll know what to do.

Please fill that journal up for me. I can't wait to read it in seven weeks. I'm missing you like crazy, and I selfishly hope you're missing me just as much. I love you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

With shaking hands, you set the note down on the orange envelope and swiped at your tears. You never dreamed you would meet a man this romantic, but somehow you did, and he became your boyfriend. "Oh, Bradley," you whispered, picking up a stack of envelopes and reading what was written on each one.

Open me when you've had a bad day

Open me when you really want some coffee

Open me when you need a laugh

Open me when you're in bed

Open me when you need a girls' night

Open me with your class

You flopped down onto the couch and kicked your feet in the air. "Bradley!" you shrieked, voice breaking as you started to cry. You hugged the letters to your chest and let the warm feeling of being loved wash over you and fill your heart. He was unbelievable. He was perfect. He was everything you wanted. And somehow you loved him a little more and missed him a little less with this box on the coffee table.

------------------------------

He's so romantic. He's taking care of Gorgeous from afar! He's coming home to San Diego, but she doesn't even know it! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @daggerspare-standingby

PART 21

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[misguidedasgardian]

Blurred Lines (2)

2. All in

MASTERLIST

Summary: You don’t know how you got to the point where Jace was just… living there with you… you liked it though

Warnings:  Cursing, cheating, adultery, talks about body shaming, therapy, misogynistic undertones (“man of the house” and whatnot), Harwin is not a good person on this… and Jace isn’t either, implied tampering with birth control, spy cameras, a bit creepiness, alcohol consumption, reader is a bit drunk in some parts, masturbation, fingering, inappropriate relationship, smut, oral sex (m receiving)

Wordcount: 4.9k

Notes: OH MY! things are heating up, I really don’t want to drag this along hehe, I want to just get to the good part

He knew that he had to bid his time, that he needed to draw you in, but as he sneaked a peek at you, he got so tempted…

He had picked a movie called “the boy next door”, in which a separated woman who is going through a divorce, moves to a small town where she starts an affair… with the 20 year old boy next door. You looked away at the very hot sex scene between them

The mom was interpreted by a famous actress, a singer, a hot, mature one.

You were acting so coy, looking away, Jace got painfully hard just by looking at you. You had “made yourself comfortable”, wearing some black cotton leggings that did nothing to hide your delicious thighs and ass. and that sweater too big for you

Now you were curled up on the couch, nursing your beer.

Jace could bet you thought it was hot, that’s why you were so embarrassed, the best part is that he was older than the guy in the movie, and you were way younger than her…

Jace always thought it was creepy how there was a huge age gap between you and Harwin, and a much lesser one between you and him. 

“You didn’t like the movie?”, he asked, making you jump. You laughed coyly

“It’s good”, you muttered, nodding and taking a sip, “a bit kinky Jace”

“Oh right”, he mocked, you were twenty nine, a week shy of turning thirty, you were not an old woman, you were barely getting started 

Why couldn’t you see that?”

He put on his best puppy dog face

“Yeah, it’s awkward”, he muttered, turning towards you, “can I ask you a question?”, he asked, when the actress was whining about her cheating ex-husband

“Yeah”, you said, smiling encouragingly at him

“What happened between you and Harwin?”, Harwin, not dad, he couldn’t have you connecting those dots tonight 

You took a sip of your second beer

“It’s complicated Jacey”, you said softly

“I’m sure you can work it out”, he said dismissively, he was being risky, but he needed to know, he needed to know by your own words what happened, and then he could exploit it 

“I’m not so sure”, you whispered, taking yet another sip of beer, Jace had you exactly where he wanted you

“Why did you kick him out?”, he asked then

“Jace..”

“What did he do that was so bad?”, he said innocently

“Well. we drew apart last year and… well, he was feeling lonely I guess, I was too occupied with Aerea…”, Jace blood was boiling, he couldn’t believe was he was hearing, you were trying to soften the fact that the bastard had cheated on you, only for him to hear, his son

Gods you were so fucking good

So nice

He couldn’t wait to keep you full of his cock, because if you kept that up, you are never going to refuse him once he starts fucking you 

“He felt lonely?”, he couldn’t keep the ruse up for long, “what does that mean?”

“Jace I really don’t want to speak ill of your father”, you whispered 

“He cheated on you, didn’t he?”, he asked, and to you, he was appearing completely heart broken, like he just learned his hero had done something terrible

Jace should be an actor

“Well…”

“What a cunt!”, he cursed

“Jace, he is your father!”, you chided, “he cheated on me, not you”

“How could he?”, he continued, “how could he cheat on you? you are beautiful, smart, funny, hot as hell”

“Jace!”, you said, embarrassed that he would call you that… hot as hell. what a joke

“Why would he?”, he asked again, “he must be insane!”

“Well Jace, my pregnancy wasn’t easy, and women bodies change when they… get pregnant, and after they give birth”, you whispered, remember sadly how Harwin loved to make the baby, but not as much once she was about to be born or already here, when your body started changing 

“You can’t be serious!”, he snapped, “you are blaming yourself?”

“I shouldn’t have told you”, you said, feeling guilty

“I’m glad you did”, he made his play, he placed a hand on your shoulder, and your raised your gaze again to look at him wide-eyed, “he has never stopped disappointing me, this doesn’t surprise me”, he admitted, “but I’m glad I can be here for you”

“Thank you”, you said, smiling softly, he caressed your arm

“He doesn’t deserve you, or Aerea”, he whispered, “come here”, he was all in, you smiled and happily scooched over to his open arms, to hug him

A seemingly kind, warm gesture

“I’m glad you are here Jacey”, you whispered 

“I’m glad to be here to keep you company”, he said against the top of your head, “you deserve better, a man that cares for you, desires you, takes care of your daughter…”

“Thank you Jacey, and I have to say, you and your brothers will always be welcomed in my home”

. . .

Tonight had gone way better than he expected

Through the camera in your room, Jace could you tossing and turning in your bed, it was still hot outside, you were sleeping in these flimsy cotton shorts, and you accommodated yourself placing the sheet between your thighs, you bend your back, popping out your ass

Fuck

He was already hard

He took out his cock, already weeping, and he started squeezing it and stroking

You were right there

Just two rooms over

He could go, open the door, rip your shorts off your body, and fuck you

He know you’d love it, you were so deprived of physical love and affection

He needed to exploit it

He touched himself at the visual of the two of you, when you hugged him over the couch, he imagined you raised your head then, looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, he imagined grabbing your jaw and devouring you, kissing you hungrily.

He thought about pushing down on your back and him jumping over you, ready to eat you whole, ripped off your clothes and go at it right on the living room

He imagined how tight you would feel around him, as he snapped his hips into you over and over, oh! the sounds you could make, he had to cover your mouth with his big hand, to not wake Aerea

As he looked down at your desperate face, when he finally finds that spot inside you, your eyes would roll off to the back of your head, as he’d feel his hand wet with your saliva, your mouth open in desperation against his palm

Those tits of your, finally released from his prison, would be moving to the rhythm of his thrusts 

His big, fat cock in and out of you as he fucked you as deeply as he could go 

But once he started he would stop there, he would release you, taking himself out of you with no warning, making you whine and cling onto him, begging him for more

He knows he had you then

So he would grab you roughly, he wanted to see your ass now, he would turn you around so you’d be in all fours for him, and he would fuck you again, your round ass there in his grasp… your skin jiggling when the thrusted into you

Fuck

It was embarrassing to admit how fast he cummed, knowing you were just a few feet away from him

. . .

Soon another week ran past, Jace was coming and going from your house to his, now he couldn’t point blankly stay in your place, he had to return to his own home

But he came back… regularly

It was true, at least, the business part. He had invested most of his savings on this enterprise with his friend Cregan Stark, but it was just so perfect to use it for his own benefit

Apparently your interview had also played out, because now you were working, Aerea was in daycare, and Jace was currently on a videochat with his friend and business partner

“Well Jace, normally I would be against my best friend baby trapping some woman but phweet”, he whistled, “she is delicious”

“Isn’t she?”, he purred, he felt so proud of himself, he had sent his friend pictures, boasting about you like you were already his, and you somehow were, in his mind, “She is so fucking naive, and sweet, gods!”

Cregan laughed through the computer 

“Damn, and how do you plan on getting her though”

“Well, the devil’s in the details, I already have access to her place, her daughter…”

“You half sister”, mocked Cregan

“Already calls me dada, and adores me, I’ve already made myself indispensable at her home”, he continued, “she is totally dependant on me to do all the “toughest” things around the house” 

“Good good”, he purred, “so after it is all done.. what are you going to do?”

“Well, our company is going to be up there isn’t it?”

“You plan on moving her here?”

“When we start our relationship…”

“When you knock her up you mean..”

“I don't think she would want to stay here near all the people that know us so…”

“Good”, his friend seemed pleased

He heard you coming in the house then, and Jace got jumpy

“She is here, gotta go..”, he whispered

“Well Jace, good meeting, I’ll send you the details of the first shipment”

“And I will have those sheets for later…”, he said, continuing their conversation from before 

“Great”, you waved at him from behind the counter, and he smiled back, Aerea came rushing in

“DADDY!”, She greeted, and Jace couldn’t be happier, he grabbed her and showed her to Cregan through the camera

“Hi”, greeted Aerea

“And who’s that?”, teased Cregan, “Hello sweetie, she is a sweet little thing, looks like you Jace!”, he said loudly, winking at his friend, Cregan chuckled as you looked surprised

“Doesn’t she?”, he teased

The call was ended short after, and you looked a bit conflicted, Jace could tell 

You didn’t like the fact that Aerea called Jace “daddy”, it wasn’t healthy, your child needed to know, to remember her father, or else she was going to get all confused 

Luckily, Harwin had agreed to take her, the weeks he had his kids, so he could get help from Jace and Luke, and it was easier on him…

Perhaps he wanted some weeks off to see her… or others

Not that you’d care

You start putting some things you bought after work around, and you smiled fakely at Jace as he approached

“Need help with something?”, he asked, he had noticed you ahd bought a couple of bottles of wine, you were going to have the first week to yourself since… forever and a hot bubbly bath with a cup of whine and some strawberries with chocolate sounds like the remedy to all your problems

“It’s fine Jace”, you said softly, “Harwin is picking you both any minute now”, you made him remember 

He looked somewhat disappointed

“Right, this is his first week with Aerea, right?”

“Right”, you smiled

“Actually, I have a bunch of work to do, do you mind if I stay the night again?”, he asked

He was risking it, he thought

You could use some time alone, you thought yourself

But those big eyes of him, made you smile

You had all week

“Sure”, you said, faking another smile, he smiled back at you sincerely.

He didn’t like that fake smile on your face

He could tell he had overplayed it

“I’m gonna keep working…”

“Sure”, you said, you then turned to Aerea, “Let’s get you packed sweety, wanna go to papa?”

The little girl’s face lit up

“PAPA!”, she exclaimed, reaching for you, as you were going to take her to him

“Let’s go darling”, you whispered sweetly 

You felt Jace’s gaze as you walked down the hallway

He growled, frustrating, and he realized he had to change his strategy

He sat back in front of the computer and he finished his work, it didn't take him more than twenty minutes 

When you appeared back, you had a large bag in your hands, and Jace changed his plan right then, he put wavy his computer and gave you a smile

“Turns out I didn't have much work as I thought”, he said, “I’m done, and I should go to my dad’s”, you smiled then sincerely

“That is great,I know that I shouldn’t had said what i said, he is still your father and he loves you and cares for you deeply”, he smiled and nodded

You heard a honk outside

“There’s papa!”, Aerea applauded

Harwin might be a shitty husband, but he was not a shitty dad, Jace had to admit, replacing him was not going to be as easy as he thought

You were nervous as you led your little girl outside, it was going to be the first time you saw Harwin since you split

He walked to the door with a soft smile

“Hey darling”, he said, looking straight at you, and then he turned to Aerea, who jumped into his arms

“Hey”

Jace thought he was going to be happy to witness this debacle, but it wasn’t weird or angry, you were actually smiling tenderly at the fucker

“Jace, you are here”, muttered Harwinm, surprised, “thanks for keeping my girls company”

That was a low blow for everyone there

You stomach sank, but Jace got so angry

He didn’t deserve calling you his 

“We should go”, muttered Jace, grabbing Aerea, and you thanked him for it, to distract her, or else she was going to start crying when she realizes you are not going

You waved him goodbye as they got in the car and drove away

You loved your daughter with all your heart, but Gods if you needed a break from all of this

You had bought like a ton of chocolate, wine, strawberries, your favorite pasta dish, you even went as far as to go to the grocery store and buy yourself those “spa” bundles, that include a candle, a very bubbly soap, a nice soft loofah, and body cream for later

So you did exactly that

You got comfortable, got rid of your clothes, until you were in your underwear (a lacey little thing you had bought to entice Harwin), and you put a soft robe on top, just to cover your modesty. 

You cooked your pasta, with your favorite sauce, you poured some wine in your cup, as you watched from the kitchen your favorite show. And when it was ready.

You ate it with pleasure, congratulated yourself because it was as good as you wanted it, so delicious, very creamy. 

You poured more wine

then you watched some more twenty minutes episodes of your favorite soap opera and THEN… you melted the chocolate, cutted some strawberries, and with a bottle and cup in hand, you went to treat yourself to the bathroom

You filled the tub, you put in the entirety of that bubble bath and you sipped your wine happily until it was full, then you undressed, dropping pieces of clothing anywhere.

Despite what happened with Harwin in the last years, today, you were feeling particularly sexy, perhaps you were ovulating or something.

You undressed like the sexiest man alive was there, watching your every move, and then, you got into the tub, moaning to express the wonderful time you were having, the hot water instantly relaxing your tired body 

Oh shit you forgot the music

No matter.

The warm up for the tub had been so nice that, now you were horny, very horny. 

Your “sexy man” was watching, so you decided to give him a show, you dipped your finger in the chocolate and brought it to your mouth

Immediately the delicious taste invaded you

Your other hand went to one of your breasts, your nipples already hard. Oh fuck you were going to enjoy this

It had been a while since you felt like this… 

Since your baby-making months…

You placed a chocolate covered strawberry in your mouth, and moaned at the taste, and at the feeling of your fingers pinching your nipple softly

You were so horny, your hand traveled down the waters over your belly and you were ready to really treat yourself 

And then, just about when thing were starting to get truly fucking good

You felt the front door opening loudly. You heard a familiar voice calling your name

SHIT! JACE!

You gasped, as it was just down the hall, and the door to the bathroom was wide open, and your underwear was in the hallway, and by the soft candlelights coming from the bathroom…

“WAIT!”, you pleaded, “I’m in the bathroom!”

“I’m sorry!”, he lamented, you heard him getting closer

“Jace, don’t come in please”, you whined, your hand until over your pubis, gods, this was going to be so good.

And yet…

The need didn’t go away being almost being caught

“You good?”, asked Jace, just by the door

“Too good Jacey”, you said, not being able to hide how disappointed you were

“I’m sorry I interrupted you”, he sounded entertained, he had clearly saw your underwear there

“Did something happen?”, you asked

“Harwin and I had a huge fight, I’m so sorry I… should have called you, or gone home, but… the only place I deemed safe is… well… here”

You sighed, loudly

“Jace you caught me in a bad time”, you admitted

Oh he knew exactly what you were doing, and he timed it just perfectly

As you looked at the space of the open door, your breathing quickened

Jace was right there

And that didn't turn you off, it did the opposite

You almost got caught masturbating on the bath by the hottest twenty one year old you had ever seen 

But you shouldn’t, you whined to yourself

And as you looked down at the empty bottle of wine… at everything set up for your pleasure…

But you wanted the real thing

So so badly

You didn't realize though, that your “mental” whine, sounded for a real, a moan that got Jace’s blood rushing to his cock, and that made him take a single step, to watch you -in real life and not on his cellphone-, in that tub

You were looking at him wide eyed, as he had your panties on his fist, the ones from the hallway

“Jace?”, you called, you look like a deer in headlights, you didn’t hide, you didn't shrieked and demanded him to leave 

You just looked at him, with desire on those beautiful eyes of yours. 

Jace growled at the sight of your soapy breasts, peaking over the water, of if he could just take a picture of this moment

You had never been so beautiful

The whole scene looked like a renaissance painting

He grabbed his phone, he couldn’t resist, and snapped a picture

You didn’t even flinched, you even moaned one more time, your chest sticking out 

“You look so fucking gorgeous”, he admired, not being able to act any longer, this was it, it came sooner than expected, but anticipated nonetheless 

“Jace”, you called, but it wasn't accusatory, it was indeed, a call

He walked until he kneeled by the side of the tub

“When I said I was going to help you with whatever you needed, I mean… anything”, he teased with a wide smile.

You rubbed your tights together shamelessly, not trying to hide it, and Jace smirked darkly 

HIs hand disappeared under the water, down your leg and then

You moaned wantonly, like a common whore when a single finger grazed your folds

One touch, and you spread your legs wantonly

How long has it been?

Way too fucking long

“We shouldn’t”, you managed to muster, even though you spread your legs wider like a whore, he only laughed, not believing it for a second

“We shouldn’t… we fucking have to”

He was your stepson

Fuck

You forgot about it pretty quickly when he latched his lips to your, devouring you, taking your breath with only one lock of lips

He fucked you with two fingers, first softly, until you moaned and turned in the tub, asking for more, begging for it.

“You like it when your stepson fingerfucks you?”, he teased

“Yes!”, you admitted, because to you, this was only a dream, this couldn’t be happening, not really.

“Aren’t you a dirty little whore, uh?”, he kept teasing, “fucking men more than a decade older than you, you should be with someone who can keep up with you”

“Someone like you?”, you whined

“Fuck yeah like me”, he said, twisting his fingers until he found what he was looking for, then your eyes did traveled to the back of your head, just like he imagined it

And when you were about to cum…

He released you

“Mmmm why?”, you whined, tears in your eyes

“Because you had been such a tease”, he growled, you are going to beg me to fuck you”, you moaned, “I’ll be waiting for you in your room”, he whispered dangerously, and left the bathroom

Now you could put a stop to this right now, or you could get into your room and get your back blown out just like you needed it

The decision was pretty easy to make

You got out of the tub, dried yourself slowly, not daring to even touch your pussy, then you put on your rob, you could see Jace from the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a smirk on his lips

Where was the sweet boy you had met the past few weeks?

Nowhere to be found

And that made it even more easy to do

You walked slowly, teasingly, your eyes on him, his eyes on you

You didn’t even cared to think about the consequences of this actions

You didn’t care

A primal need had taken a hold in your body, and you they were going to get sated

This was the culmination of years of sexual neglect… you didn't even dare to think about how wrong this was…

“Jacey”, you moaned, testing the opening of the robe, “are you sure?”, you knew your body wasn’t perfect, and yet, you had him here, looking at you like that, eating you with his eyes darkened like those of a hunter about to pounce

This wasn’t happening…

So it didn’t matter

It was all a dream

It had to be

it was definitely not the pills jace had replaced your birth control with

It was not the wine

It was a dream

“I can’t take it any longer”, he muttered, grabbing you by the fabric, ripping your robe from your body, grabbing your hips and drawing you to him, until you straddled him on the bed

You felt his… thick cock right under your pussy, and you moaned, wanted to feel it for real

“Oh yeah, rub yourself on me, you needy little thing”, he whined, he was so fucking sexy, as he looked up to you with those dark eyes, and chiseled like features 

He was wearing soft gray cotton pants, that did nothing to hide his monster cock

“Please Jacey”, you whined

“What?”, he teased, “you have been a really bad girl, you know? flaunting all of this in front of me, not even giving me a taste…”, his eyes trailed your naked body over him, his greedy hands grabbing and squishing everything he could get his hands on

You rubbed yourself on him shamesly, needily 

“I need you”, you whined

“Oh I know you do”, he growled.

You decided to take matters into your own hands. you separated from him a bit, just enough so you could grab the hem of his pants and lower them, releasing his…

Oh fuck

So you weren’t lying to yourself, it was big and thick, and already so hard, and leaking

All for you

“Mmmm”, you moaned, in anticipation, as you took it with both your hands, it felt so heavy, you couldn’t even wrap your hands around it

“Use it”, demanded Jace, you started rubbing him, pumping him, making sure to use his own precum to lubricate him.

“So big”, you barely recognize yourself, you didn't know what was happening, you wanted him so badly it hurted you

“Is all yours baby”, he whined 

If it was yours, you were going to do as you wanted, you dropped to your knees between his thick thighs, as Jace looked down at you with devotion

Only two of his fingers and he had you on your knees for him

He couldn’t even wait to see what was going to happen after he fucked you

He moaned, dropping his head back when you gave him a kitten lick at his tip

“Fuck”, there was no way you could fit it all in your mouth, so you used both hand to massage him as you took care of his tip, “yes just like that”

You moaned approvingly, trying to get as much as you could, but it wasn’t much

“You like sucking cock don’t you?”, he asked, his voice thick

“Yes”, you released him, only to answer, and then you took him in your mouth again, sucking his tip

“Shit!”, he cursed

He knew you were going to be… open… for it, but he never expected this, it was better than anything he could have imagined 

You wanted to please him, and he didn't rush you, yet, you tried to take more and more each time your head bobbed up and down

Not even half

But Jace stopped you

“I need you”, he demanded, he stood up and helped you up too, you undressed him at his request, taking his hoodie, shirt, and getting rid of his pants until he kicked them off of his feet

He looked down at you, until he grabbed you, drawing you to him

Your naked bodies collided as your lips with his

He was hungry for you, his tongue immediately asking permission to enter and you gladly granted it

It was dirty, wrong, and you fucking love it

This is a dream

This is a dream

You were a tangle of limbs, as you fell to the bed, but you wanted to resume where you left, so you make sure he accommodate himself on the bed 

Your marital bed

His cock rested over his stomach, as you accommodate yourself over him

“Take it slow darling”, he whined, you grabbed his cock still wet with your saliva.

Oh he so wanted to taste you

But tonight, it was all about you using him

You accommodated yourself over him, lining his thick cock with your entrance, and then, you lowered yourself

You moaned when he entered you, the stench was a bit painful, but you were so wet, it felt incredibly delicious

“Tell me darling”, he said, looking up at you, his hand grabbing your hips, squishing the skin, “who is this making you feel so good?

“Mmmm Jace”, you whined, taking another inch inside of you, you moved your hips in circles, easing him into you, it felt so good, to feel him rub against your insides, he was filling you so good.

“Who?”, he demanded

“Jace!”, you cried out, when he retrieved himself, to punish you for something

“Who’s this cock that your are fucking yourself with?”, he asked then

“Yours!”, he slammed down, making you take all of him in one movements, “AH fuck!”, you cursed, “So full”

“This is nothing”, he teased, “I want to see you full of my cum”

Gods those words enticed you to keep moving your hips, fucking yourself on him, until you found the angle you needed, for him to bully your special spot

“It feels so good”, he whined, “your pussy is so fucking tight”

“Your cock is so big”, you babbled, now going up and down

“I know, and it's all yours”

“All mine?”, you asked

“Yes, is this pussy mine?”, he asked, easing your clit with his thumb, making you shriek 

“Yes!”, you screamed

“You sure?”, he teased

“Mhmh”, you moaned

“Good girl, as long as it is only mine, you can have this all you want”, you started going back and forth with your hips, making Jacaerys draw his head back… but he couldn’t come just yet, he grabbed you, and with a shriek and a single smooth movement, now he had you under him

“Enough, now we are making thing my way”, he growled

And he started thrusting so hard into you, the bed started creaking dangerously under you, the board slamming against the wall

“Ah”, you whined, your pussy tightening so hard, squeezing him, jace had to work hard not to cum tight then and there

“Take it”

He couldn’t believe this was happening, this must be a dream…

You cummed, hard, didn’t even try not to, it was too much…

And Jace cummed right after, filling you with his cum

You didn't even think about the consequences, there was not going to be any…

This was just a dream…

He took himself off of you, and immediately you felt his seed dripping out of you.

He chuckled darkly, with one of his fingers, he collected it and pushed back inside you, with your moan resounding all over your room

“You are mine now”, he demanded

Sleep was taking you, you were exhausted…

And Jace only hoped this was enough to breed you, not like he didn’t want to have you more times… 

But the sooner the better…

Right?

I'm going to be honest, I was going to cut it right before the smut, and then I thought, I couldn't do that to you all

muahaha

She folded pretty quickly but I mean, who wouldn't?

taglist!

@champomiel @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @lukepattersin @ladylyanna91 @snowflake-latte @bruher @bellstwd @inesven @iamavailablesstuff @haydee5010 @happinessinthebeing @agqrtz @ajanauia @joliettes @lightdragonrayne @ivoryluvs @fairysluna

[yanderestarangel]

can you please write a johnny cage cock warming fic maybe as like a punishment i love your johnny cage so much

TW: afab anatomy, ftm reader, reader wears a dress, v!sex, blowjob, cock warming, hard!dom johnny, toxic relationship, possessive sex, insecurity (on johnny's part), spanking, degradation, dark!johnny cage, smut, porn plot,orgasm denial.

You really loved Cage, however, you couldn't deny how jealous he was sometimes - you could say that the Hollywood actor was crazy about you, completely obsessed.

You went out that night with a dress shorter than normal, you really didn't see anything wrong with such a choice - after all, it was a party with all the best directors and actors - but Johnny did. All the lustful eyes were on you, awakening your boyfriend's fury, insecurity and jealousy.

Johnny Cage soon stormed out of the party with you, pulling you roughly by the wrist to his sports car, driving angrily in silence to his mansion. "-You dirty little bitch," Johnny growled, his voice filled with a mixture of desire and anger, as he directed you upstairs quickly, making you stagger down the smooth marble stairs. "-Walking around in that short dress, tempting every man who sets eyes on you. You wanted their attention, didn't you? Well, now you're going to pay for it."

Without hesitation, he forced you to your knees, holding your hair firmly as he guided his cock towards your waiting mouth. You could feel the undisciplined power in his actions, his dominant and possessive nature taking full control. He rammed his cock hard into your mouth, forcing you to take him deep, gagging you with each powerful movement, your jaw aching from the force he put on his hips - There was no room for tenderness or gentleness, just the raw display of your control - and your submission.

"-You're nothing but a filthy cocksucker," Johnny groaned, taking his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop, slamming his member into your cheek hard, over and over, until your skin was reddened with the outline of his pulsing shaft "-That's all you're good for, isn't it? Pleasing me, worshiping my cock like the needy little slut you are."

Johnny lifted you off the floor, seeing your pussy completely wet and needy, taking two fingers to the thin fabric of your soaked panties, while whispering in your ear "-You like that, don't you?" His voice filled with smug satisfaction. "-You like being fucked hard, being used like the good boy you are. Tell my whore... Tell me how much you love being my fucktoy." You could only moan at the rough treatment of his fingers in your wet entrance, you tried to look everywhere, except at the older man, but this made his excitement and anger worse, he pushed your panties to the side, tearing the fabric and slapping your overstimulated flesh hard.

"-Look at me, you slut", Johnny ordered, removing his fingers from your body and grabbing your cheeks hard, to the point of hurting your face. "-You dressed like that because you wanted to be fucked by other men, didn't you? Admit it...Admit that you're nothing more than a filthy little whore." As Johnny slapped him hard across the face, leaving your cheek red and burning with pain, your words of devotion and loyalty fell on deaf ears.

"-See how desperate you are for me? How eager you are to be used by me. You are mine, sweet boy. Every inch of you." With that, Johnny placed you in his arms, sitting on the nearest surface, while his cock dripped pre semen mixed with your saliva - you could tell that by the look in his eyes, deep in his honey colored eyes, he was unsure, very insecure - with a quick movement, he brought the tip of his thick shaft closer to your aching pussy, slowly entering it while forcing you to look at him again.

"-I swear... I swear on everything honey, that if you leave me like Cris left me..." he pauses for a moment, placing his head in the crook of your neck so that you avoid seeing the tears falling from his eyes. "-I can't lose you baby... I can't." Johnny's grip on you only tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh, marking you as his possession, pleasure and pain mingled together, overwhelming your senses, you felt every pulse and every hot inch of him hit your G-spot with precision, and every time he realized you were going to cum, he pulled out quickly, torturing you and making you beg for more moaning and spilling more and more explanations, however, your attempt to explain yourself was met with disdain and merciless control.

"-I'm going to breed you until you're swollen and dripping with my seed. You'll be begging for mercy, but I won't stop. I'll keep fucking you until you're broken... Every inch of this pussy belongs to me. You're mine, and no one else can ever touch you again." His thrusts intensified, each movement a testament to his desire for complete control over you - the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuating the symphony of your moans and his primal grunts.

"-You begged for this. You wanted me to fuck you like the obedient little slut you are. And I'm going to give it to you, over and over again until you can't take it anymore." He breathed, his voice filled with both possession and satisfaction, a little choked by the tears that insisted on falling on his face. "-And don't you forget that. You'll always submit to me, my good little hoe." The wave of pleasure that washed over you was like a lightning bolt, electrifying every nerve in your body.

Your pussy clenched around Johnny's cock, the powerful contractions rippling through his body as he roared: "-F-Fuck!C-Cum for Daddy!. I wanted this so much. To feel your body tremble around me, to watch you lose yourself in my touch." With an animalistic growl, Johnny surged forward, burying himself deep within you as his orgasm took hold.

The tight grip of your muscles sent him spiraling into blissful oblivion, the intense sensation igniting his own release. As the waves of pleasure receded, leaving you both spent and breathless, Johnny collapsed onto the bed, still inside you. The intensity of the moment was palpable; sweat dripped your bodies, mixing together in a messy of lust.

"-That was... intense," he managed between gasps for air, his expression softening slightly. "-You okay?"

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt. 21

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

You weren’t freaking out. You weren’t. Except maybe you were because your friend decided to leave out one very crucial detail about the party you were accompanying her to.

“You didn’t tell me it was at Avengers Tower!?” You gape as you crane your neck to get a full view of the tower. You’d walked past it a few times before, heck you’d even been in the lobby for a few events they’d done but now you were about to go to an actual floor of the tower. The very tower the Avengers live in?? You were going to pass out…

“Well, it is hosted by Tony Stark” Your head whips towards your coworker and you can’t tell if the feeling that suddenly floods you is nerves or excitement but either way you feel like you’re going to explode. All over this very expensive tower.

“What?” You watch as she pulls a very fancy-looking invitation out of her purse and you’re so tempted to ask how she even got invited but the other part of you is still flabbergasted at the fact that you’re probably going to at one point talk to at least one Avenger.

God what if it’s-

“Did I forget to mention that?” Your friend tilts her head as if it’s a completely inconsequential fact and you immediately turn around to go home 

“I can’t do this”

A hand on your wrist stops you as you're pulled back to your companion. Thankfully she pulled you back by your uninjured arm, otherwise, it would’ve hurt like a bitch. You were lucky enough to find some skin color bandages and concealer to hide it for the most part.

“C’mon Y/n, you never hang out with anyone from work! Plus you really need to get out and socialize, you spend too much time smiling at your phone. You can text your girlfriend later!” 

She pulls you into the tower and your body follows her on auto-pilot. It’s the second time someone’s referred to Nat as your girlfriend and it makes you wonder just how whipped you must look texting her for other people to automatically assume she’s your partner.

When you focus back in on your surroundings before you can spiral you’re met with the imminent doom of two elevator doors closing in front of you. The two of you are the only ones in the elevator and your panicked face is met with a confused smile.

“What’s up with you?” Your coworker is being an absolute sweetheart considering how not normal your reaction is to this party so you take a few deep breaths and try to calm your racing mind

“I can’t go up there, Natasha Romanoff is up there”

She tilts her head once more and stares at you with an inquisitive look “Are you scared of her?”

Your head is rapidly shaking before you can even get the words out “What? No! Of course not!” 

You can’t get your eyes to meet hers though as a blush creeps up to your cheeks. The elevator is silent as it slowly climbs floor by floor and you think she’s just going to drop it when her sudden exclamation makes you flinch

“Oh my God! You have a crush on her don’t you?”

You’re more than a little embarrassed to admit it, your mother was tired of how often you talked about her, and your old friends used to tease you endlessly about your one-sided love. “It’s not like that!” 

But… lately, she wasn’t on your mind as often. She always seemed like someone you could project your romantic fantasies onto because you knew there was no way in the world she could ever like you back, but now that you had someone real… “She’s just... she’s just really cool, okay?” 

You still admired her and wanted to thank her for saving your life that day but now someone else occupied your heart. It wasn’t going to stop you from blushing around her though, she was endlessly gorgeous.

Your friend's laugh echoes off of the sleek silver metal of the elevator and you scold yourself for always showing your emotions on your face.

“Alright well, I’m sure you can persuade her into an autograph or something, if she’s even here. I heard she doesn’t like to come to these kinds of parties.” Glancing at the floor number she begins fixing her dress “Honestly I would hate them too with how often Stark is having them.” She gives your shoulder a few comforting pats right as the elevator doors ding and you look up and square your shoulders as you mumble under your breath

“I doubt I’ll even meet her…”

~~

The first thing you notice is how large the room is. The tower is huge from the outside but the size of the room is at least two of your apartment and you’re pretty sure there’s still a balcony outside.

It’s as glamorous as the media always says it is at least. Expensive lights hang from the ceiling and LEDs line the walls in various colors that change to the music. It feels like you’re at the most expensive club in New York. In a way, you are. 

Halfway across the room is Tony Stark, you hear him before you see him, his loud boisterous laugh bouncing off the walls and attracting the attention of various guests. There’s a small crowd gathered around him and all of them look desperate to get to speak to him. If that were you you’d probably cower under all that attention but he seems to be thriving under it.

Sitting on the couch is the infamous Captain America and his rugged friend The (ex) Winter Soldier. He looks about as uncomfortable as you feel and you mentally raise your glass to him for even showing up.

There’s a gaggle of women around the two and you’re scared to get too close in case they turn you to stone with just a glare.

You turn to your friend to see her surveying the room in the same way and you wonder again how she got the invite and who she was here for. 

You know Stark sometimes holds these parties to appeal to the public and from the looks of it it was working.

Still, your anxiety about crowds immediately kicks in and you feel your palms grow sweaty. You were probably going to follow your friend around the whole night but what if she went up to Tony or the other two? The crowds around them were so large. So many bodies, so many sounds, so many flashing lights. The room was already beginning to feel dizzy. 

Two hands wake you from your daze, concerned eyes finding yours as you focus in on them

“Y/n? Are you okay?” You’re grateful for your friend's firm grasp grounding you, you hadn't even realized how heavy you were breathing and if she hadn’t pulled you out of it there was a good chance you would have spiraled into a panic attack right there in front of everyone. You’d never leave your house again if something like that happened. 

You realize you haven't answered her question and you slowly nod your head and even out your breathing. You were okay. You were safe. This was not a fight for your life the same way it was years ago. You work through the breathing techniques your therapist taught you until your nerves have calmed down and your coworker- kind and patient as ever, is still standing across from you, a comforting smile on her lips. 

She could’ve easily left you to go socialize but instead, she stayed to make sure you were okay. You hadn’t told her how you were affected by everything that happened all those years ago but you wondered if she knew anyway. So many people have been in the same situation as you. You tried the support group thing but it just wasn’t for you.

Your companion gives you a reassuring squeeze on your uninjured shoulder and glances over your shoulder, a small smirk hiding in the corner of her mouth. 

“I think we need to loosen you up a bit” She nods her head behind you and you spare a glance at the bar across the room. There are a few men sitting at the bar looking expectant and you hesitate but ultimately decide that a drink might make you feel more relaxed. 

Your friend seems to realize your agreement as she beams at you and gives you a little thumbs up “It’s an open bar! I’ll be over there if you need me okay?” She gestures over to a group surrounding a man that you recognize as Bruce Banner and you realize just how little you know about the person across from you. Was he her type? Was she just really into science? 

Those are the thoughts that float around in your head as you make your way to the bar, trying your best not to bump into anyone for the sake of your mental health and your injury.

When you find a seat at the bar you realize why the men had looked so expectant waiting here. There was no bartender. One of the men sizes you up, eyes traveling from your exposed leg all the way up to your tits and that’s where his gaze ends. When he sees you’ve caught him ogling you he just winks and you shiver. Uncomfortable and not willing to subject yourself to this treatment just for a drink, you make a move to get up right as a certain redhead makes her way behind the bar, and your heart stills. 

Oh fuck.

You’re a little afraid that you’ve lost your pulse as she grabs various bottles from the large LED drink wall behind her and begins mixing them in the shaker. You worry you’re no better than the men as you ogle how smooth everything she does is. 

Here Natasha Romanoff was, barely even ten feet away from you. The second time you’d seen her in person. You thought she was incredible before but she looked even better without blood splattered on her suit and dripping from her head. She was dressed to the nines in a sleek black dress that looked like it was made of velvet. 

When she finally finishes making her drink she pours it into a chilled glass and takes a small sip, smirking as she watches over her glass at all the men staring at her. At first, it seems cocky but with a slight shake of her head, it seemed more like she was internally scoffing at them instead. You didn’t blame her.

You manage to drag your eyes away from her ( you don’t know how because she’s absolutely magnetic) and see all of the men trying to subtly groom themselves in her presence. The smell of so much testosterone makes you scrunch up your nose. Surely they didn’t think they had a chance? They reeked of desperation and cheap perfume. How many of the men inappropriately staring had wives at home? Kids? If anyone in this room had a chance it was-

You. She was staring at you.

Pt.22

A/n: Hate to say it but if you thought this was going to be the ending you would be wrong. Sorry not sorry! ~Starry

---Taglist--

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[1-49]

TOURIST GUIDE: The top 7 things you don’t want to be doing when in Paris.

Imagine,

the brightest, most perfect winter’s day imaginable. Crisp, chilly, and beautiful. Warm cafés, busy streets, and gentle breezes ──── stellar architecture, metros, and museums. If anything, Paris is the most magical place on earth, but having Sungchan there makes it even more so.

That being said,

here is a list of the Top 8 things and situations to look out for, & don’t indulge in when you are in Paris if you don’t want to fall in love. A doomed guide for both tourists and locals, eh.

tags: fluff, love, sure it carries its angst though ⁝ fun concept to approach given i wasn’t going to write a fic nor it fits exactly into headcanon, so yeah. he has made me dizzy with his paris photos im sooo sorry. wc. 3k

Fan fact: The French term ‘Coup de foudre’ describes when someone feels completely blown away by someone they have recently met. In literal terms, it means lightning strike. If you have been ‘struck by lightning’ in this way, a common feeling is that you can tell the person everything bc they just get you

Good luck!

THE CRASH

A stunning stranger seated a short distance away from you in a small cafe is always a threat—but this is not just any stunning stranger. As you converse with your friend, he’s also conversing with his group of friends. Passing phones and a camera make their giggles sound like a good time. 

Every chance you get, you glance at him while speaking with your friend because it’s so tempting to do so. Little sparks shoot out the moment the stare is returned; when your gazes meet halfway; when he’s caught, too, for naively trying to get your attention.

When your friend catches on to the fact that you’re looking at what is behind her rather than her.

When she turns around to reinvestigate the situation and notices that he’s staring in your direction, she instantly understands.

When she gives him a smile and turns back to face you, who moved too slowly to stop her.

The stranger which then believes that you both had a conversation about him.

The friend who first exposed you is also the one who is now pushing you to use the restroom; for if he meets you halfway again, chances are good he’s into you too.

Her point is validated when you find yourself in a small hallway, pretending to scroll through your phone, as he moves toward you.

Scents of rich vanilla, chocolate, coffee, and wine fill the dimly lit secluded part of the café, which has burgundy walls. His physique is too large to fit in the narrow hallway. His eyes and smile translate love. His confession is full of tenderness, affection, & promising good times.

THE ‘NO’ PLAN

It’s already outside of your plan to plan the remainder of your day. Order breaks out. Chaos ensues. What was already set in motion was interrupted by him, a tourist named Sungchan. But a Paris show-off won’t be a show-off without a museum, so there goes that theory. 

In any case, a museum or art gallery is a must, so thirty minutes later, you are showing him around one of the many museums. The grand rooms echo with silence as you hope that the angels are praying for you to make it to the end of the tour. It’s simply so overwhelming to be next to such beauty. You can’t stop thinking how much he fits the scene. 

The line of his nose; his lips; the shadows of his collarbones; the wrinkles of his smile; the flow of your hair; the trickle of his laugh—for all of these, he is worthy of a museum.

So when you finally get your hands on the previously ‘passed-around’ camera, an exhibit of blue curiosities rests on his shoulders. Quickly, you take some pictures of him with the Rothko piece. It’s impossible to determine which is more beautiful—him or the artwork. 

There are repercussions for that, as he leads you to allow him to take a picture of you—his ulterior motive, though, to have a picture of you forever. You’ll be with him no matter what, even after he leaves this city and you behind.

JUST TOURISTY THINGS

Time will separate the two of you, just as a river divides Paris, but as you continue to stroll beside the Seine, where musicians sing of hopeless love and painters craft their works in the open, the issue of time is not a priority. If anything, all the time in the world at this moment is yours.

He grabs your hands and spins the two of you around, his hair brushed with sun-kissed shades of cinnamon brown. Claiming he isn’t immune to music, so you can’t be critical and should just follow his example.

But when the spinning becomes too intense and he feels lightheaded, he tries to steady himself by staring into your eyes for longer than he should. Your proximity scares you, but you’re concerned and ask if he’s okay. 

A smile appears on his face as a result of your concern for him, while a heavenly presence is tipping from his eyes as he’s making a promise that he’s good, if not better than ever.

A smile that inspires hope & makes you believe. A smile that undoubtedly had great power to bring you both to this point. He’s beautiful in every sense. Mentality, personalty, appearance.

He’s even surpassing the Eiffel Tower in terms of beauty with ease!

Your captured images, with him as the subject, create the most ideal postcards, and as you’re showing them to him, it’s when a feeling of sad nostalgia envelops you prior to even parting ways with him. You come to the realization that you desire to spend more time with him, not just one day.

But all you get is one day... 

A magic day... that is gradually starting to turn into a night—and as the two of you walk on the fresh-washed gravel paths through the Luxembourg Gardens, the wind becomes clearer and sharper.

Even the bare trees, which you’re used to seeing against the sky, seem to be feeling the warmth of his touch as he insists on pushing and spreading his fingers inside your palm. His vibrance makes even the leafless trees feel less lonely. He takes your hand in such a way that you aren’t even allowed to give him a warning look. Hand in hand, you have no choice but to chase after him.

NO DESTINATION BACK UP

Does it even matter that he doesn’t know the city? 

The ecstasy you are running on is surley telling you that it’s all about getting lost and  discovering yourself in unfamiliar places—and that’s all because of him.

The startled look in this stranger’s eyes as you two nearly cross a street at a red light due to his rushing… 

As he begins to apologize while biting his lower lip, claiming he didn’t mean to. 

His deer-eyes in the headlights are all that you can focus on really. It’s tempting to say, ‘It’s okay,’ but there is something about his apologetic expression that makes you feel as though he’s completely enclosing you in his gaze. 

His eyes are hugging you while he apologizes. It has been a long time since you felt something like that—felt completely safe. Sincerely, and risk-free. He’s a walking green light. So then, it’s a bit sadistic of you to wish for his apology to last longer. 

But how can you not?

When his hand squeezes yours even harder, and he turns all starry eyes while biting his lip in fear?

Someone you would definitely want to try and fit into your pocket, regardless of his height or width.

CRAMPED SPACES

When the cruelness of the night finally reaches your bones, chasing a tiny, romantic restaurant is the only way to soothe the cold.

The warmth of the atmosphere meshes with his gray cardigan, and you find yourself moving more and more into his comfort zone due to the crowded space, where many are seeking refuge for the same reason as you two. 

His rich scent fills the air around you and his knees keep touching yours due to the close proximity. The wine glass dangles in his hand and his lips become more and more affected, picking up a cherry hue.

His collarbones exhibit every movement of his body, and for whatever reason, you feel an insatiable urge to reach for the soft, grey wool and uncover more.

You’re so invested in this delicate area it’s making you feel absolutely irrational. The constant spreading of his hand through his lush hair and pushing it behind is only adding to your obsession. Regardless of how often he does this, the silky hair flies back into his eyes every time.

He has this habit of dipping his small fork into your chocolate mousse, taking a bite, then flirting while he listens to you talk and plays with the fork, letting the sharp tips sink into his soft lips.

The gesture merely begs for your attention, so in order to stay true to yourself, you greet him by clinking glasses with him. But as soon as his glass touches yours, you have to look him in the eyes again and be so sincere... You lose either way.

This gorgeous person’s natural flirtatious charm can’t be escaped. His focus shifting between your lips and eyes as he attentively listens to you is quite possibly the hottest thing about him. 

And although he insists on practising some French words, he continually mispronounces ‘croissants’ and ‘creme brulee’. He got ‘Bonjour’, ‘Bonsoir’, and ‘baguette’ right, which is worthy of notice; and the greatest reward would be a peck on the cheek, which he hasn’t yet received...

The fork remains sunk in his lips. If there’s one dessert that can be described as the ‘most scrumptious’, it’s him.

UNDERGROUND MISHAPS

Running with him in hand is a somewhat exciting experience. You aren’t sure where he got his stamina, but you’re sprinting down the stairs and will have some downtime when you two board the next metro.

When you reach underground platform though, a sea of tourists waits impatiently to go home or explore the outside world.

His hand carefully slides around your waist as you wait, standing side by side, your chests exploding from all the running. Whether it’s to protect you or keep you to himself, the intent is unclear.

And just as you’re about to look up to give him another warning glance, you realize that you’ve already forgotten how many there were. His adorable facial expressions are the reason you never succeed.

Obviously, the wine has increased his energy—his feelings are in his eyes. 

His features quickly and suddenly take on an emotive tone. A line appears between his brows and a hint of melancholy on his face as recognition dawns. Maybe the effects of the end of the day are finally starting to catch up with him.

You realize that he’s a lot of fun—the type of person who always sees the glass half full but who is also, presumably, grounded enough to realize that something is in the way and the glass isn’t quite enough full. Though he’ll eventually have to face it... saying goodbye to you is probably the biggest treat.

His hand is trembling inside yours...

... whether from anger, sadness, or excitement, it can be all of them or then

“Sungchan,”

You barely have time to finish what you started before he pulls you in and gives you a hug. Metros, come and go. People are walking past you, but he freezes this moment.

His coat’s lapels seem kind enough to part away, giving you more personal space and allowing your ear to fall directly on his heart.

His hand falls effortlessly over your head, as soft as a snowflake as he says, “It’d ruin everything if we said anything. Let’s not.” He carasses your hair and then plants a kiss.

A hug so strong that it keeps you safe from the passing of time. 

However, even this beam of sunshine has a heart, and it rains. Not even he has the complete ability to stop time from passing. The earth orbits, and the leaves dissipate.

Though what he can do is, 

he can certainly seize some of the light in the circumstance as he pulls on your hand once more, making the promise of, “Trust me.”

FALLING IN LOVE

There is definitely a sense of a ‘Trust me’ irony in the situation however, about how you won’t fall in love with him.

He seems to be pointing you in the direction of the photo booth at the end of the platform, which he noticed while your bodies were merging together. 

You’re fairly certain that those will be your favourite, worst-ever photos of the two of you, but the only memory you can physically hug, so you decide not to argue.

Naturally, the cubicle is small, but what do you expect from a metro photo booth?

The sweet giant battles his height and shoulders to enter, and when he does, he just hovers above you, looking down. His palms pressed against two different walls, and his neck bent at an awkward angle because you have taken all the ‘what can hardly be called a’ seat. 

Like it is your fault, right?

With a tongue poke to his cheek and raised brows, he’s subtly advising you to do ‘this one thing.’

Like hell, “I’m not sitting in your lap,” you bat your eyelashes at him. 

“It’s too late to back out. Plus, I don’t think there’s any other way to make this work.”

The goofy grin morphs his whole face into what it would be to stand under the sun; his cheeks rise higher the more he shows teeth. He’s so cute. It melts your heart.

Your mouth stays open in shock as you say, “But it is you who wanted this,” before you endearingly defend yourself. “This was your idea.” How very ‘trust me’ of him. In the end, you accept. “Okay, fine,” you sulk while pouting.

Satisfied, he clicks his tongue. You both knew that you would accept; you just wanted to have some fun, didn’t you?

You eventually create room for him to sit, but when it comes time for you to sit, you hesitate. But then you feel his hands dragging your waist down, and the next thing you know, you’re in his lap. He has lost all patience.

You sigh with annoyance, but even you know it is all a front. 

Now hesitant to move, your back remains pressed against his chest, and you’re even halfway there trying to maintain your balance on your feet instead of lounging comfortably in his lap. However, his back hug is particularly effective because it feels like his palm is pressing deeper into your tummy, encouraging you to relax even more into him.

His thighs radiate unnecessary heat, and his warm breath tickles the side of your neck as his chin rests on your shoulder. He teases you, whispering, “You can face me you know, I don’t bite.”

There is an absolute anarchy, there beneath his palm, in your belly. Not the whispering tone!! 

You tilt your head back (ironically, letting it rest where his shoulder and neck meet), gazing at the near ceiling and mentally calculating the number of seconds until you lose your mind.

He rests with you, for a minute, or two… his heart densely kicking in your back, but you swear it’s a peaceful moment. He’s able to magically stop the flow of time, no matter what!

Perhaps outside of the small world that you two inhabit, the metro passes by for the fifth time, and perhaps the waiting area is swept by cleaners once more while your shoes peek out from under the curtain, threatening to blow your cover.

However, time never really stops—especially in this place, the City of Light, Paris, a city that never sleeps.

“Let—um” His voice cracks for the first time before he finally says, “Uh—Let us take those pictures.”

You shut your eyes, allowing the angst of the situation to have its way with you before turning to face him.

His brows appear flat, and the crack between them is even deeper than it used to be. Even his lips are fuller than they used to be. Or could it simply be the face-to-face intimacy that is causing them to appear in such a way?

All this time, you thought it was just a playful lust, an undeniable attraction, when, in fact, what you’re finding is love—love looking straight into your eyes.

You no longer need to hold it within you. You just admit it, completely aware that nothing will change but that it will undoubtedly have some significance because it’s better to let things out than to hold them inside.

“Sungchan,” you pause for a moment, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Like you haven’t already felt them, he takes your hand and puts it over his heart, allowing you to feel the butterflies surging through his chest. Your lips to your eyes is the route he prefers to travel most. “I don’t want to leave either,” he admits voice light and airy.

As you look at him, every time the photo booth camera flashes a bright light, the butterflies burst rhythmically—because of that, and as much at the magic, and at the calculated touch of a girl who, in the past, had learned to trust no one. Yet, here you are, choosing to trust someone you have just met & won’t see again.

Your hands tremble against his cheeks as you gently cup his face and begin your slow, careful inspection. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch as you run a finger across the peak of his eyebrow.

You feel an influx of emotions as you begin to understand that this person is an angel. You’re tracing every inch of him into your brain—soaking up every star in his eyes and every mole on his face—because an angel like this can never be met twice...

His greatest quality, you think, even in this kind of ‘damned’ situation, is that he can’t stay serious; a smile lights up his face. The only word that adequately expresses how you feel is wanting to ‘devour’ the damned smile that lingers close to your lips. He’s irresistible.

Cute or sexy are terms that are so confusing with him. You aren’t sure to which he’s supposed to be leaning towards. It’s driving you crazy. He simply can not be defined.

And the more he holds you, the more confident he gets. He started off politely, treating you like a paper bird, and then he abruptly stops apologizing. His lashes start to make out slowly with the narrow look he gives you. His thumb glides over your bottom lip. There is only one meaning to it.

Conversely, the photos taken are sitting in the photo outlet. You whisper, “Sungchan,” gesturing to the pictures and apparently indicating that ‘your work here is done.’ 

His firm grip on your jaw, however, fiercely brings your face into his. His winey breath is coating your lips.

“But,” you knit your brows, “our series of pho—”

His index finger stops your lips from moving mid-sentence. “Let’s make another one.”

“You—you’re getting too comfortable in this,” You stagger over what you are saying as his nose brushes against yours, “for-for well, for something that will never happen again.” 

“That’s exactly why I need those photos,” he says, chewing the inside of his cheeks in response to your somewhat insensitive comment.

“And we—And we,” you keep breaking, “We’ve been her—

“Can I kiss you?” He brutally cuts you off.

His sugary lower lip is already pressed against yours. It no longer interests him what you’re saying. It’s a quiet question, but there is some dangerously real intent behind it.

Yes, but can he beg for a kiss?

Sure,

as if he’s breathing in the air that he knows he’ll be missing out on, his lips remain waiting for a sign before they get messy.

His thumb ignites ‘instant fire’ in every pore on your cheek with each precise circle. It’s more like he is consuming you in advance. 

Your thoughts are numb, and your heart is stuck in your throat. You don’t want to forget any part of it all, and you’re bound to in the high you’re experiencing right now... He was right when he advised it to be documented.

The gaping mouths. The tender lip-stroking. The deep, slow breathing. The hot air exchange.

His teeth clenched in pain. The energy he surrounds you with is so intense.

Your “Fuck!”

& Sungchan’s “Please,”

occur simultaneously.

© 𝟭-𝟰𝟵. do not copy, translate, repost, and modify my works.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Clothing prompts ¹²⁾ laddered black tights ⁴⁸⁾ a little black dress and ⁵⁾ a borrowed hoodie with jenny humphrey??

thanks for the jenny request! I hope you like it <3

the original prompt list can be found here btw

Left Stranded (Jenny Humphrey x gn reader)

Warnings: underaged drinking/over intoxication, implied creepy behavior from strangers, vomiting (in case anyone has issues with that sort of stuff), some hurt/comfort

You didn't usually stay out drinking, but Serena wanted to go and decided to drag you along with her, not leaving you much of a choice in the matter. Of course she ditched you the moment you got there, which prompted you to hang around the bar in case she decided to show up again. She didn't, but someone else did: Jenny Humphrey.

Poor Little J, stumbling around all by herself in a pair of ladder tights and a little black dress, clearly far too drunk for her own good. Well, not completely by herself, as you noticed two guys that seemed to be lurking around nearby. You could spot the creep on them from miles away, which immediately put you into action.

Setting down your drink, you slipped through the crowd of people who were still partying and quickly made your way over to her. "Jenny?" You gently spoke as you reached out to set your hand on her shoulder, trying your best not to scare her.

She turned to face you, swaying in the high heels she was wearing. You were overtaken by the strong smell of alcohol right away, causing you to make a face of disgust. "Oh, hey," she slurred while giving you a friendly smile, barely sober enough to even talk properly.

"Hey. Are you here by yourself?" You questioned while glancing around, scanning the room for someone that might've come with her.

"Oh, yeah, but it's fine." She waved her hand dismissively at your concern, not seeming fully aware of the situation and just how unsafe she was.

"Why don't I take you home, okay?" You gently suggested while wrapping an arm around her waist for support.

"Mm... okay," she mumbled, not protesting nearly as much as you thought she would. Then again, she looked as though she was about to pass out any second now, which would certainly explain her unusually complacent behavior.

You carefully led her outside, having to walk a bit slower for her since she kept stumbling over her own feet. "I'm going to get us a cab so I can get you back home, alright?"

Much to your surprise, she instantly shook her no. "Don't wanna go home," she insisted, her speak giving away just how drunk she was. "Dad'll be mad at me."

She made a good point there. You couldn't exactly imagine Rufus being all too thrilled at the idea of his young daughter getting hammered out at some random bar well past midnight.

"Okay, where do you want to go, then?"

"Your place," came her immediate answer, her blue eyes staring up at you with a pleading look as she rested her head on your shoulder. "Please?"

You sighed heavily before reluctantly agreeing. "If you insist." You weren't quite sure how you felt about having to unexpectedly take care of someone who was blackout drunk, but then again you'd done it plenty of times before with Serena, so why not?

Despite being dead weight, it wasn't that hard to maneuver her into the cab and back out of it again once you got to your place. Getting her up the stairs, however, was much easier said than done. Eventually you just gave up trying to help her and picked her up bridal style, something that earned you an excited squeal from the very-drunk blonde.

"Okay, you're going to sleep in here for the night," you stated while setting her down on the bed in your room before moving to take off her shoes. "I'll be on the couch in the living room, and the bathroom is through that door in there in case you feel the need to puke."

"Wait, you're not staying in here with me?" She pitifully questioned as her hand reached out to grab onto your arm.

Part of you was tempted to pull your arm back and leave, but you just couldn't refuse those big eyes full of hurt at the idea of her being left all alone.

"I can stay in here if you really want me to," you relented while grabbing her shoes to set somewhere off to the side so she wouldn't trip over them if she ever decided to get up at some point.

That seemed to calm her down some, and she let go of your arm. "I'm cold," she whined suddenly, her hands automatically moving to rub her arms in an attempt to warm them up, as though she was trying to put emphasis on her point.

"I'll get you a sweater," you replied while moving over to where your dresser was, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a hoodie that you frequently used to sleep in. You knew she'd be comfortable in it, even with her dress and tights. "Here, let me help you put it on."

It took you a few tries, but eventually you were able to successfully get the hoodie on over her head, fixing it so that it covered her properly. She let out a soft hum in appreciation as she flopped back down on the bed. "Good night," she mumbled after curling up with the blankets.

You couldn't help but smile at just how adorable she was acting, all bundled up under the covers in your bed while wearing your hoodie. "Good night," you spoke in a soft and quiet voice while flicking the light off. "Sleep well."

When Jenny woke the next morning, her head was pounding something awful and her mouth tasted like a disgusting mix of several different types of alcohol, but at least she found herself in your hoodie, and in a bed that was safe and warm.

Looking around, she spotted you sleeping in the armrest you had in your room. You'd stayed in there with her, just like you said you would. It touched her heart and made her stomach fill with butterflies- though that could've just been her alcohol from the night before sloshing around.

Jumping up from the bed, she ran into the bathroom and pushed the toilet lid up, and not a moment too soon. The sound of her puking was actually what woke you, your brow furrowing with worry as you remembered what had happened the night before.

She looked up when she heard your footsteps, her hands clutching onto the side of the toilet for dear life. "Hey, hey, you're alright," you muttered in a groggy voice as you knelt down beside her, your hands reaching out to collect her hair and pulling it out of her face so it wouldn't be in the way as she threw up. "I've got you."

She nodded, her eyes pricking with tears of guilt and shame. You could tell just how humiliated she was about last night, and you were suddenly grateful you'd brought her back to your place rather than taking her home. Her family didn't need to see her like this.

"Just take a few deep breaths, okay? You'll be alright," you comforted in a low and soothing voice. She opened her mouth as if to speak before changing her mind at the last minute and throwing up in the toilet again. One of your hands held her hair bunched up at the nape of her neck while the other moved down to her back, rubbing the area while she puked.

"Why did you help me?" She finally spoke up, her voice a little raspy from what the intense nonstop vomiting had been doing to her throat.

"What do you mean?" You asked in turned, answering her question with one of your own as you continued to rub her back while holding her hair up.

"I mean, most people would've seen me there, in that stupid bar with all those stupid people-" She sounded pretty bitter when she spoke, and you supposed you couldn't really blame her for it. "-and they would've left me there. They'd say, 'well, it looks as if Little J's finally going to be getting what's coming to her', and then they would've just left."

"Don't. Don't say that," you muttered softly, trying to make your voice sound firm to no avail. If anything, your tone was pleading and a little sad.

She sighed as she recognized how hurt you sounded, glancing over at you with a remorseful look. "I'm sorry. But you know it's true."

Both of you were quiet for a moment before you spoke again. "I'm not that kind of person. I didn't leave you there just like I wouldn't have left Serena, or Blair, or even Vanessa of all people."

That made her let out a quiet snort of laughter. "Really? What if it wasn't a girl?" Her tone was lightearted, but you could tell she was serious by the look in her eyes.

"Then I'd still help. I'd help if it was Dan, or Nate, or Eric. I'd say Chuck, but I'm pretty sure he can hold his liquor much better than I can."

She laughed again, seeming to be getting over her queasy stomach as her mood lightened some. "You'd really help someone who was drunk like that, regardless of who they were? Regardless of if you liked them or not?"

"Of course I would," you said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just because you dislike someone, it doesn't mean it's okay to leave them alone for something awful to happen to them."

Your words seemed to hang in the air long after you spoke, traveling from her ears all the way down to her heart where they pierced it like shards of broken glass. All her life she'd always felt as though she deserved any bad things that happened to her, even if they were done by people who were supposed to be her friends, and now here you are, saying that no, she didn't deserve it, even if people didn't like her.

"Do you... Do you dislike me?" She asked in a quiet and hesitant manner, her eyes pricking yet again with tears. In this moment, she looked less like a hungover teenager and more like a heartbroken child.

"Oh, sweetie," you muttered sympathetically while wrapping your arms around her, gently tugging her away from the toilet and into your arms. "No, I don't. Sometimes you tend to get on my nerves a little, but I feel that way with most people. I don't dislike you, I promise."

She nodded her head at your words, sniffling some as she clung to you, her face pressed against your shoulder as you spoke. "What did you see, when you saw me?" was her next question, one that she was desperate to hear the answer to. Would you say that you saw a spoiled, drunk brat? Or maybe that you saw a potential victim and took pity on her?

You considered what she said before responding. "I saw someone who looked stranded, like a tiny little raft out in the middle of the sea that was completely unaware of the big storm that could be heading in its direction," you replied honestly, not wanting to lie to her the same way you knew so many other people did.

"I guess that would make you the Coast Guard, since you came to my rescue when I was left stranded," she lightly joked, a sign that she was starting to feel better again.

Her words caused you to let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, I guess I would. And I can safely say that I'm glad I came to your rescue."

She cuddled up closer to you, relishing the affectionate touch of being held so tightly and so protectively in your arms, something that had never happened to her before. She couldn't remember the last time she ever felt so safe.

"Yeah," she agreed, refusing to think about what might've been and instead choosing to focus on what was. "Me, too."

End notes: I know this is pretty angsty but I've been wanting to write a jenny fic like this for a while now and I'm so glad that it's finally happened

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics @samcvrpenters @bleachxbunny

[zablife]

Pretty When You Cry

Summary: Tommy likes to give you pleasure to the point of pain for one specific goal, to watch you cry.

Author's Note: For @jomarch-wannabe 350 follower celebration. Inspired by Lana Del Rey's "Pretty When You Cry." Congrats, darl!

Warnings: 🔞, dom Tommy, bondage, overstimulation, crying kink

Outside your window, all the pretty stars were shining in the sky. Inside, there was a darkness in Tommy's crystalline blue eyes as he teased and tortured little whimpers and moans from your exhausted body. "How much more can you take, love?” he whispered at your ear, but you couldn’t answer too far gone to tell. 

Your full lips parted, tongue darting out to moisten your parched mouth as your chest heaved for breath. You tugged slightly against the silk ties at your wrists, Tommy watching you carefully from above, enchanting you with promises of more. Whether or not you could withstand it was the question. Would you call out your safe word to him or allow him to continue to the point you knew he loved most? Give him the ultimate pleasure he desired?

He ran the back of his hand along your ribs, feeling your breath rise and fall against his knuckles before turning his palm against your hip and forcing you back down to the mattress. “You can take it,” he coaxed, but the sweetness had gone from his voice, raw need replacing his earlier gentleness. 

His large fingers slipped between your slick folds as you gasped, “I can’t do it…I can’t.” Your head lolled from side to side on the soft pillow Tommy had placed beneath your delicate neck at the start of the evening, locks splayed out beneath you. The tendrils were now stuck to your forehead and neck with sweat after hours of him sending you over the edge of bliss, asking for just one more little death...and that's what each felt like, a tiny piece of you leaving with every quaking breath. He was the greediest lover you’d ever had, demanding to see your toes curl and your thighs quiver until you were reduced to tears. 

It was one night three years ago when he realized he held this power over you. Forcing your legs open and lapping at your swollen clit for more, he’d become so intoxicated at the view of you shaking and crying with your final release, it had sent him into his own powerful orgasm without so much as a touch from you. “You’re the girl of my dreams,” he proclaimed, watching the salty tears bathe your cheeks as you writhed on the bed, completely overstimulated.

He knew how to achieve it with perfect precision now... if you were willing. Some nights you called out and he was forced to stop, but tonight you bit down hard on your lip, enduring the bombardment of overwhelming pleasure just for him. “You alright sweetheart?” he teased in a low rumble that made your insides turn to jelly.

“Mmm-hmm,” you managed in a pathetic mewl, lifting your head, eyelids fluttering to barely contain what he knew would surely break free in seconds. 

As the pad of his thumb traced tight circles over your clit he watched your blown out pupils. “Going to give me everyhing I want? Will you be my good girl?” he begged. And you gulped as you tried to hold it in.

“Yes, Tommy, I’m you’re girl...always your good girl,” you mumbled as pleasure fogged your brain. Finally you gave yourself over to the sensation, rocking your hips against his palm. 

“That's it, darling. Take what you need," he goaded you, watching your face contort in pleasure bordering on pain. He was the devil, tempting you to push yourself beyond what you were capable of. The vibrations of his voice hummed within you and your body tensed suddenly. Your back arched and Tommy leaned in to taste you, sucking your little bud to make the feeling even more intense. “No, no, no” you whimpered, but it was too late as the damn broke within you. You were cumming in waves that made you hot then cold, body practically convulsing under his touch. Crossing the line into torture, it was too much. Hot tears flowed from your eyes and trickled down the apples of your rosy cheeks, flushed a bright pink from overexertion. 

Tommy looked up at you, mouth agape in silent appreciation. “F-fuck” he stuttered at your beauty, before coming to untie you and collect you in his arms. He pressed kisses to your temple and down to the corners of your mouth as you collapsed against him, praising you. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

---------------

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[frankenjoly]

HAII. verlaine special

rimlaine + "hold me?"

fyolaine + "how does that taste?"

koulaine + "this ought to be put on your record"

rimlaine + “hold me?”

“Hold me?” He asked, in barely a whisper. And, just as quickly, Arthur Rimbaud got his wish granted in the form of his partner wrapping himself around him in a tight hug.

Tight and warm, exactly what he was looking for.

“Thanks, dear.” He answered, his voice muffled as he promptly buried his face in the crook of Verlaine’s neck, hugging him back with intensity. Blankets were nice, but that… that was special in the best of ways. Because nothing was better than sharing body heat with someone else, especially him, and because… oh, to hold each other so tenderly, them who also were capable of so much violence.

“No need to thank me, I do it gladly.” Was the response he got, as Rimbaud felt Verlaine’s head moving to rest on top of him.

Silence then fell for a while, since there was no need for words; both were more than happy to stay just like that. And an ‘I love you’ made its way into his throat, too, but it didn’t exit it.

Instead, the words were released in the form of Morse code softly tapped against Verlaine’s back.

fyolaine + “how does that taste?”

“How does that taste?”

“Honestly? Terrible.” Verlaine quickly replied, once he had swallowed. “But at least it’s not poison, so I give you that.”

“You seem pretty sure that it’s not poison.” Fyodor countered with a catty smile.

“I am, yes. Perks of the job.” Was all he offered in return in the realm of the current topic. Dostoyevsky wasn’t there to have a conversation about food, that was for sure, and he wouldn’t entertain small talk with someone like him. “Anyway, what do you want?”

“Can’t I greet one of the Port Mafia’s executives just because I feel like it?”

“Because you feel like it? You?” If there was something Verlaine was more than well aware of how the person in front of him, it was how he never stitched without a thread, and underestimating even the smallest word could be fatal. Ace had made that mistake, the dumbass, and he wouldn’t be following his footsteps. Especially when there was more intel on Dostoyevsky now, even if still scarce.

Unravelling the mystery that Fyodor was could only be a task for geniuses or fools, and despite his own smarts and boldness, Verlaine wouldn’t count himself as neither.

No matter how tempting it may be.

koulaine + “this ought to be put on your record”

“This ought to be on your record.” Kôyô said, only half serious, and despite that Verlaine quickly offered him a scowl.

“This was your fault now, so don’t try to pin it all on me.”

Being completely honest with herself, albeit only mentally, Kôyô had to admit it tended to be both their faults more often than not. But, of course, she wouldn’t say that to Verlaine’s face so easily.

“I’m by no means the one that is still under surveillance, just in case.” Was her response instead, scoffing. And, instead of escalating the conversation even further and into a full-fledged argument, what those words got from him as a reaction was laughter… which, to her surprise, sounded rather nice.

“Oh? So you’re going to take advantage of that, perhaps?” 

Verlaine’s words were filled with sarcasm, accompanied with a bit of venom but bigger amounts of amusement. And those only became more noticeable when she pushed him back into the seat both had been occupying before getting… interrupted, then ‘climbed’ to his lap, with him offering no actual resistance.

“Last time I checked we were both executives.” Kôyô said, simply and plainly. After all and at that point, all that talk was only part of an inside charade.

(Also on ao3.)

[unicorncornflakes]

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 16

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming soon)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags:  Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes  manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know):  @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller @dahlias-and-marigolds @the-knights-of-ne @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy

Author´s note:  Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5K

Acknowledgment: To @ammo23 for the brilliant corrections and the wonderull work as beta reader, for all the amazing rewiews, comments and refletions, for all the patience and the love that always shows for my writing. Thank you so much for all the time that you spend with this. Thank you so much for everything. :D

Someone made a joke again in High Valyrian, and everyone at that table laughed. Everyone except you.

The truth is that what was so characteristic of the Targaryen’s, to speal in their mother tongue, was something that you had not even dreamed of. Your mother had tried to take you to school when you were just a little girl to please your father's family, but she had stopped when she got mad at your father again over some stupid custody term. You had only heard High Valyrian occasionally from your uncle's lips during the summers. But, you had yet to learn. It was just another of the many things that separated you from that part of your family. Yet at that moment, at that table, where you were having dinner with some of your uncle's college friends, all silver and blond heads and sunset eyes, you couldn't feel more out of place.

You had arrived at Sunspear that same afternoon, and after simply leaving your suitcase in what was to be your supposed room and taking a shower, Aemond had asked you to go down to dinner with some of his friends that he only saw at that conference. You had put on a short, tight dress, heels that made you look much taller, and you had painted your lips with Aemond's lipstick. Almost like a trophy that your uncle had claimed and obtained, you walked out of the room. Aemond smiled an approving, arrogant, proud smile and placed his hand on the small of your back as he led you into the hotel's dining room.

Clement Celtigar commented in High Valyrian, and your uncle and Alyn Velaryon laughed, the latter slamming the table hard and causing his wife, sitting right next to him, to narrow her eyes. You sipped shyly from your glass. The Targaryen necklace dangling from your neck, and yet everyone sitting at that table had more Valyrian blood running through their veins than you ever would. You weren't a Targaryen, even though Aemond insisted on calling you his ‘little dragon’.

Celtigar's wife, a stunning woman with long hair, full lips, and rosy cheeks, asked you something in High Valyrian. She had a sincere smile, but in her eyes, you saw something akin to sly, suggestive amusement. Alyn Velarion's wife smiled as well. Both were waiting for your answer. They were both, like their husbands, of a similar age to your uncle. You couldn't be more out of place at that dinner. Your uncle leaned back in his chair, putting his arm around the back of yours, almost expecting you to answer what they had asked you. You bit your lip and looked nervously at your uncle to quickly lower your gaze back to the plate that had your food.

"Sorry, I don't speak High Valyrian," you whispered, Aemond remained impassive. You could see the disappointment in him, almost as if he had expected you to speak it because of the simple fact of your last name. You saw how Celtigar's wife looked at Alyn's with a smirk, and Clement raised the glass to his lips, amused.

"Well, don't worry, our children have a hard time learning too. They are about your age," BeatrithCeltigar commented as she looked at her husband, almost amused and with a smile that hid almost an underlying contempt.

"You could have at least told us that you didn't speak it. We would have spoken in the common tongue." Loren Velaryon smiled at you with a wide, sincere smile while her husband looked at Celtigar, who smiled back in almost the same way. "Bea was asking you where you met."

You looked at your uncle, who was about to speak when you responded almost automatically. "In a bar," was all you said. You had noticed that no one at that table knew you were Aemond's niece. He had simply introduced you by name, and then the others had started talking about what you thought was business and anecdotes from his college years. Aemond left his other hand on the table. Arm outstretched as he timidly tapped his glass. You knew he only did it when he was nervous, but his face was unfazed. A Valyrian statue. That's what he was. You thought that everyone there knew of your existence, that everyone thought you were his niece, and you couldn't be more wrong. Aemond had introduced you as his partner, even though you hadn't understood. He wanted to give you your place, although, at that moment, he realized his mistake. Perhaps all of them had seen the images of the charity gala, but it was too late. It had been a stupid mistake.

"I can't imagine Aemond having a drink in a bar." Clement laughed, and Alyn did exactly the same. Both friends started laughing while Aemond continued undaunted. You had never met a single friend of your uncle's, but it was clear that all of them were not what you had expected.

"At least tell us that you found out she was already 18", laughed Alyn while his wife hit him on the arm for the profanity of his comment.

"Of course I did, asshole", Aemond roared, quite annoyed at the laughter of his friends. You blushed at that spectacle and tried to take another sip from your drink under the watchful eye of Celtigar's wife. "The Celtigar live in Yi Ti and the Velaryon in the summer islands", your uncle whispered in your ear, almost as if that was an explanation of why none of them had seen on television what had been repeated for weeks until your uncle bought absolutely everything. Money bought silence, and from what you understood at the time, those people were rich enough to live in an ivory tower where the rest of the news that concerned other mortals did not reach. You didn't like those people. They just looked down on you because they could. Their money and their status allowed it.

"She's very pretty, mind you," Loren commented, almost as if you weren't there. "And you'll probably learn High Valyrian soon. The best way to learn it is between the sheets. Aemond always said that to his girlfriends in college." Everyone laughed, and you saw your uncle smirk, but the truth is that he had never spoken to you in High Valyrian in bed, that he would have done it with other women. It just got on your nerves. Jealous. Really jealous. That was the word.

"Yara learned it super well", Bea commented while her husband nodded in silence. "And you were only there a couple of months, but she was an intelligent woman." Yara must have been one of your uncle's ex-girlfriends. She was smart, not like you. That comment let you know what that table was thinking about you at that moment. Clement agreed.

"I always thought you would marry her. All that bullshit about PhD and ancient Valyria. It was your stuff," Celtigar commented as he cut into his steak. "At least it was what I bet with Alyn", he said, pointing at him with the knife, while the man Velaryon felt uncomfortable before that conversation. Almost as uncomfortable as you felt. Aemond looked at you for a moment. You just looked sad, and he said something in High Valyrian that made Clement almost stop chewing. Both Celtigar’s were the ones now looking uncomfortable.

"The nice thing is that I've never seen Aemond so happy", Loren commented while her husband smiled sincerely. Aemond held your chin and kissed you in front of all of them. It was almost like a statement of what he felt. Your first kiss in public. He didn't plan to hide anymore. He was tired. You made him happy. That was all he needed. You were having dinner in that VIP room. The six of them alone, but it was certainly a statement that he wasn't going to hide anymore.

"Where are you from, (Y/N)?" Alyn asked almost innocently, and you went almost pale after that brief contact of your lips with your uncle's. You thought of something quick to say before Aemond spoke up and answered for you.

"From Starfall", you tried to smile "(Y/N) Dayne." You smiled, and Alyn was pleased with your answer. You continued eating in silence while they all returned to their conversation about money and luxuries. They toasted you and Aemond, and though you did not see it, your uncle's gaze darkened.

As he toasted, he looked at his glass, full of meaningless bubbles. You would never see yourself as a Targaryen. He would never make you feel like this. As much as he tried, you’re identifying yourself as a Dayne was proof of that. Not a Dayne. Not a Targaryen. You would always feel out of place. Always.

The room that Alys had booked for you in that hotel was right next to Aemond’s suite. It was intended for the small children of those who were staying at that hotel. The journey there had been silent until you got to the door of your room. Aemond had opened it with his hand leaning on it, and you had slipped into the shadows, closing it behind you. You heard your uncle's hesitant footsteps as he entered through the huge door of his suite. It was bullshit. What you just did. You took off your heels and dropped into Aemond's suite through the connecting door. Your uncle hadn't bolted the bolt that joined them, and that only served to prevent small children from sneaking into the intimate moments of the older ones. That situation was stupid, and you just sat on Aemond's bed in silence.

With his back to you, he undressed without much desire. That dinner had been tense. His best friends from college had always been a bunch of assholes, but after the comments they'd made to him about you while saying goodbye,they weren't people he liked very much.

He knew what they thought. They saw the difference in age, they saw your innocence, and they almost despised it. Luckily, no one had seen the bond that united you, and that greatly relieved him. He had been an asshole that night. He had tried to play house with you and had almost ruined everything. However, he still seemed annoyed with you. He unbuttoned his shirt as he looked at you, and you smiled at him beautifully, although he could see some sadness in your eyes. It was there, more accentuated than usual.

"You should, you should have said you were a Targaryen," he spoke without looking at you, still undressing, and your smile faltered, almost as if you hadn't heard him correctly. But, you had. "We've had this conversation before..." he said as he approached the bed and sat beside you. You nearly stirred like an attacked cat, though you tried to hide it. You've always been good at faking it.

"When we had it, we didn't sleep together, Aemond," you said without looking at him, remembering that night two years ago when he had encouraged you to wear your father's heraldry. It seemed almost like a lifetime had passed since that moment. "I don't want anyone to suspect. Fine if your friends live in their bubble, but the rest of the world doesn't, and…and…also, I'm not a Targaryen. I don't have the hair. I don't speak High Valyrian or…" there it was. The truth behind all those years. You were confessing it to the same man who seemed to be crazy about you for that simple fact.

Aemond looked ahead. He remembered all the times he had messed with the Strong boys for that very reason. but you were different. You were. You weren't a bastard. You were born to a Starfall woman, yes, but so had he been to a Hightower. You two were true Valyrian blood. He was more into that archetype of beauty, but your eyes... your eyes marked you as one of his. Yes. "You are a Targaryen in your own right, even if you don't speak High Valyrian or have the hair." He held your face in his hands. "And even if you weren't, I would still love you just the same." He swallowed hard while his one eye was fixed on you, who looked at him with bright eyes. "You are my everything."

"But your college girlfriends…and Alys…" you whispered. You had never been worried about jealousy until that moment when they all seemed like a better choice than you. At that moment, a tear ran down your face, and Aemond wiped it with one of his thumbs while continuing to hold your face, forcing eye contact,never to be lost.

"They are not you, (Y/N), and they never will be. You are above everything. You are everything to me, don't you see?" He whispered to you, almost desperate for you to understand that you were everything. "I would be willing to do anything for you. Absolutely everything"

"But we are always going to live in the shadow..." you whispered, coming back to the real world after those weeks of pure fantasy. This was the first time you talked about something truly momentous to your relationship, where you didn't just end up tangled between the sheets of a very expensive hotel room.

"No. Not always. I wanted tonight to be proof of that," he confessed to you. "There will be places we don't have to hide because no one will know who we are." Aemond almost said it as if it were a fantasy, but he was convinced it was a fantasy his money could buy. He had worked hard for it, for this moment, where he was really happy.

For the first time in a long time, he was happy, and no one was going to take that away from him. Although he had no idea how wrong he was, "I want you to trust me. I want you to tell me what worries you, what makes you sad, what makes you happy... I just want us to be together because you are what I need, what I've always needed," he whispered to you, closing his eye and leaning his forehead against yours. His closeness made all your hair stand on end, and you simply kissed him because, finally, that Aemond you had always known had returned to you.

"It's not what I asked for. It doesn't look like what I asked for at all." Alys looked up from her phone screen at the sound of a familiar voice. As she had showered, she had gone with the rest of her coworkers to have a drink at the hotel bar, but as always, she had stayed up late, almost waiting for someone to spend the night with. The prospect of sleeping with Meg wasn't something that excited her, and she needed company right now. She knew there would be others like her. Therefore, she had remained in that bar until well into midnight. Although she had realized something, she no longer aroused the same interest as before, and she had ended up playing with her mobile phone bored. However, at that moment, upon hearing that familiar voice, all her alarms went off. Perhaps she would sleep with someone that night.

"But it's art, Mr. Dayne", a boy who must have been your age, was talking to Gerold Dayne. Both were sitting at one of the tables near the bar. The boy, who had long white hair, almost looked like a copy of the Aemond, Alys had known of that young boy. The oil tycoon's son was talking to him while showing him some pictures on a laptop. Gerold must have been there for the simple fact that this congress moved millions, and, without a doubt, his father must have sent him there as an ambassador for the oil company. Gerold Dayne was not in business of his own accord. He had always been rather uninterested in all that, but despite his lack of interest in business, he was a man Alys had found likeable…and quite attractive.

"I am not arguing that it is art. I'm just telling you; it doesn't look like what I asked for. I am an entrepreneur. Not an artist," Gerold snapped at that boy, and that made Alys smile. Something must have changed in that wayward man from Starfall. "Try again. If you want that position in my advertising section, you are going to have to do better."

"Okay," the boy just sighed and looked up from the laptop at the same time that he closed it. Then, the boy's one-eyed gaze met Alys'. And she looked at him amazed. He was so similar to Aemond, even missing an eye, although this boy hid it not under an eyepatch but under a lock of hair. Albino with a red mark that covered a small part of his face. Alys couldn't take her eyes off him. That boy must be some Targaryen bastard. She was sure, but her thoughts were interrupted when Gerold saw her too and waved. The Dornishman shook the young man's hand and walked over to Alys.

Gerold's cute, teasing smile had always made Alys smile back, and he simply leaned against the bar. She stretched and sucked on the straw of her glass. "Alys Rivers alone. It must be my lucky night." Gerold smiled charmingly, and Alys laughed in a flirtatious way.

"I guess I'm not what I was any more." She laughed, without losing that sensual grin that had always turned so many men upside down, and Gerold sat next to her at the bar. He opened his purse and paid for the drink Alys was having. "Thank you", she replied, almost purring, and caressed her hand. Gerold just smiled, almost tired, as if all his seductive and scoundrel facets had disappeared at that moment.

"I know it was you who picked up the phone. I'm the one who should thank you," he answered without looking at her. He only asked to be served and took a drink in silence. Alys looked at him strangely, not knowing what to answer because she really didn't know what he was talking about. "The images of Aemond and (Y/N). I know that it was you who made the arrangements for them to disappear from the television and almost from the web. Even if it was with Aemond's money, I know it was you who arranged it all. Thank you," he repeated again. He looked at her with a sincere smile, and Alys simply put on her serious face.

"I was just following orders", she lied and took another sip from her drink, this time draining it to the end. "But if you want to buy me another one, I'm not going to complain." She finally smiled, and Gerold Dayne gave a half smile as he indicated to the waiter to get another drink for the secretary.

"I know it was to protect her, although I don't understand why" the Dornishman replied. Seeing Alys's bright eyes, he knew he hadn't been wrong. If anythingit attracted him to Alys. It was her almost feline cunning. "I have always liked your ability to handle everything in the shadows. Just before I picked up the phone, you already did it," he laughed.

"Were you going to buy the silence of the media?" Alys laughed as if it seemed impossible. The Daynes had money, but she didn't think it was as much as the Targaryen’s. That was impossible.

"I want her to be happy and my sister not die of disgust when she finds out what makes her happy." Gerold shrugged and took another sip of his drink, looking honestly at Alys. "Everything I do is for them. They are my family. It was hard for me to see it, but that's how it is." Gerold smiled when he saw how Alys's eyes shone. She was a good woman, even though the world had forced her to become the monster they thought she was, but she wasn't. Gerold was sure of it.

"It reminded me of when I was younger. That's all, and how I would have liked someone to help me," Alys swallowed, confessing what she did not want to confess. Because that confession unravelled more than she would have wanted to say, she had tried to change. She was getting it, and it made her feel better, even though it was pretty clear she was going to lose with it, or so she thought.

"You're a good person, Alys, even if you think you're not", he whispered in her ear and Alys, that Alys who thought she was cold and distant, blushed. "The first time I saw you so innocent on Daemond Targaryen's arm, I knew it." ended up smiling, completely disarming the woman who believed herself to be indestructible.

"So now you're getting serious about business, huh?" Alys smiled, trying to regain control of the situation. And Gerold laughed at that change of conversation. He knew women like Alys well; it was very difficult for them to ever let their guard down, but that was something he liked. It didn't bother him at all.

"Yeah, I told myself that if I wanted to leave anything for (Y/N) it was time to get to work. It's not that I like it, but I've discovered that I don't dislike it either," he commented again. Alys chewed on her inner cheek, trying to find a new topic of conversation. Truly, she didn't want to let Gerold go that night. For the first time in a long time, she was really at ease.

"The boy that was with you." Alys started to speak, and Gerold laughed. He had never taken her for someone so curious, but the Dornish only smiled in defeat and moved even closer to her.

"Yeah. He looks too much like Aemond. I even investigated to see if Aemond had had an affair that we didn't know about," he laughed. And Alys went pale, almost not believing what she had just heard. "No, he's a Targaryen bastard, but he's not Aemond's son," he laughed again, almost trying to reassure Alys. The truth is that she didn't care if Aemond had had a child. She cared that something like this could have escaped her information network. "(Y/N) was dating him. His name is Bryen Rivers, and I like him," he replied in a playful and amused tone, simply seeing how Alys's face went from worry to relief in a single instant. "If you like it and it brings back memories of better times, I can introduce you to him," Gerold joked, alluding to that time when Alys had been everything to Aemond.

"No, leave it. I'm tired of dragons," she replied, following her game, and Gerold laughed, fixing his violet eyes on her.

"Great, because I thought you were going to say you still had a thing for guys with silver hair. That would mean I'm out of the game," he replied in a suggestive tone, and Alys laughed. It was obvious that she wouldn't be sleeping in the same room with Meg tonight, but she was a spymaster, and she really needed that information.

"So, does he work for you?" Alys shrugged, wanting to know more about that boy. The more she knew, the better she could protect you, even if it was a task, she had ordered herself.

"He wants to work for me. Soon, he will study in the same school as (Y/N), and I guess he thinks that if he works for me, she will be interested in him again. I liked him for her, but I know she wasn't with him because she was in love." Gerold stretched again. "So, since I like him, I let him try to get into my publicity department. He's quite talented," he commented as if it were yet another corporate action, and that made Alys laugh. Gerold had changed. Very much. And that made her come to him like a moth to a flame.

"Tomorrow, I have a date to have lunch with (Y/N). We are both in the same conference, and I would find it ugly not to see her," he commented without looking at Alys. "I suppose she will be brought by Aemond. Which won't be a pleasant experience." He winked at Alys but then leaned closer to her, almost as if he were whispering in her ear. "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me then. Tomorrow. The two alone."

"I thought we were going to have breakfast together," Alys replied in a suggestive purr that made Gerold laugh.

"I would love to, but for once, I would like to do things right. I think it would be quite an experience for both of us if, for the first time, we didn't sleep with that person that we are so attracted to, and we did things step by step." He smiled sincerely, honestly, as if Alys were not a toy but a person, and that made her heart race. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and she wanted the next day to come. It was the first time that she felt that they were not going to use her. There were two feelings in Gerold's words that Alys had rarely experienced: gratitude and honesty. She remembered that girl who had entered Daemon Targaryen's office for the first time, and her heart raced. She wanted to be that girl again.

She just nodded, and Gerold escorted her to her room like a real gentleman. Just reaching the door, Alys turned to say goodbye after opening her card, but the Dornishman didn't let her speak. He just kissed her silently. A touch of their lips that indicated something more than passion and desire. An underlying affinity began between them that Alys had never experienced.

She had been Daemon's lover, Aemond's confidant, but she had never felt what she felt in that moment. She had no words to explain it. "See you tomorrow, Alys," Gerold whispered to her again, and Alys slipped into her room. Not caring if it woke Meg up, she could only try to stifle a nervous, happy laugh against her bedroom door just after she closed it.

Aemond had fallen asleep. Almost after making love, he had snorted tiredly, and after telling you that he loved you, he had fallen asleep while looking at the ceiling with a satisfied smile. Normally, he would have hugged you, but you could feel that he was tired after the flight. But you didn't care. You just snuggled up against his bare chest. You were just as tired, but you sure couldn't sleep. After so many confessions, so many fears and insecurities, you had finally confessed a part of them to Aemond, but now that things seemed to be better, you were going to walk away from him to start college. He would visit you. He had promised you. But, something inside of you told you that that fantasy that Aemond had in his head of being together was not going to work. Now you wanted to be with him. You wanted to shout it out to the world, but how was the world going to react? Nobody would accept it. You knew that your mother would think you weren't well, that your grandmother Alicent would die of disgust, and your father you didn't know very well, how your father would react, if at all? You slipped onto the bed and grabbed your phone; leaned against the headboard and did something you'd never done before.

You searched for information on Daemon and Rhaenyra. They, like you, had suffered that passionate and secret love like the one you two also experienced. They were you. Exactly the same, or, if not, similar. You saw a couple of gossip magazine covers where they talked about the close relationship between the two. You saw the news starring both of them, together or separately, and you read about the scandal. Your skin stood on end when you saw how the press had branded them as monsters. They were monsters for the fact they loved each other.

You thought about putting the phone down while you kept reading and reading about them. However, you couldn't. Something inside you wanted to know more and more about it, but you froze when you read the news about Rhaenyra's death. That made you shed a tear. They were all talking about Daemon's manipulation of her. Nobody came out in defense of what only two monsters could feel. Another shudder, another strangled sob. Why should it be better for you and Aemond? There was no evidence for it. Heavy tears rolled down your cheeks. None of this was going to end well.

Daemon had had as much money as Aemond, and yet he had failed to protect the one he loved most. How was Aemond going to defend you? The press had been merciless with them, but you also knew that they would be relentless with you. Your heart was breaking at times. It was almost like seeing the consequences of the relationship you had. It was too hard a blow with reality. Maybe too much.

Your sobs woke Aemond, who just looked at you in confusion. Just when he saw what was on the screen of your phone, he hugged you and threw the device away. He just hugged you while rocking you in silence. He only broke it to say that you would not suffer the same fate. He was going to take care of everything. He would. You wanted to believe him, even though you knew that he himself had warned you a long time ago.

And as he held you silently and stroked and kissed your hair, a message came on your phone from Bryen. You would only see him the next morning, but he was informing you that he was at Sunspear and that he needed to see you before the course. That boy was still in love with you, although you had already forgotten him. Your entire world was Aemond.

[btr-rewatch]

Big Time Rush Song Rankings (+ commentary nobody asked for): "BTR"

I was bored. Decided to go through their albums and put them into a list from favorite to least favorite.

"Worldwide": Is it possible this song is overrated and hyped too much? No. This song was on heavy rotation for me from the moment I heard it. Wonderful song, 10/10. Full of love and yearning. Their all white outfits in the music video? Iconic. My mom's friend's daughter went to one of their shows and was picked as the Worldwide Girl, and young me didn't handle that well (I wasn't even AT the concert, so not like I had a chance, but still). I'm almost over it.

"Til I Forget About You": When they would show the music video for this during commercial breaks on Nick, I would leap from the couch and do the dance along with them. There used to be a good analysis post breaking down each of the boys' sections in the song and how it correlates with their personalities in the show and how they deal with heartbreak (there's also one for "Famous" that does the same).

"Big Time Rush": I used to sit on the school bus and stare blankly out the window listening to this one on repeat at like 7:45 in the morning. Just...not even awake yet but psyching myself up to live it big time.

"Famous": This one is pretty much tied with "Big Time Rush" in my head, and I'm tempted to bump it to 3, but the song's theme ultimately wins out. Love this song. Can't help but see it in a weirdly haunting light due to the above mentioned "Famous Analysis" post that I read over and over when I was younger and changed the way I saw the song from that point on. Thank you to Swedish girl-group Play for giving us this song. (I assume most people in the fandom have seen or heard the Play version already but if not, check it out)

"Halfway There": Ok, so. I love this song, but EVERY TIME I listen to it, I'm filled with slight annoyance over the fact that it's the "different" version than was originally released. When this single was released, it was KENDALL who sang the opening lines ("When the chips are down, back against the wall" etc) and then James who did his part later. That's the version I listened to for months before they got rid of it and replaced it with the version that appeared on their album. It was a jarring experience for me, and I've never quite fully recovered. The song will forever sound slightly wrong to me because of it.

"Stuck": Prior to starting this blog and doing the rewatch, I hadn't heard a lot of their songs for years, and I had completely forgotten this one existed. Like, it had been wiped from my brain. Rediscovering it was fun.

"City is Ours": Fun fact-my sister is scarred for life from this song and can no longer listen to it because when she was younger, she used it as her alarm tone to get up for school. It's forever associated with waking up in a panic early in the morning and has been ruined for her since the show's original run.

"This is Our Someday": I feel like this song is one of those forgotten ones. I don't remember it being big either in the show or outside of it back in the day (and it has the second lowest listens on Spotify). I do like it, though. Such a hopeful tune, and the line, "One is good, but four is better?" That's a good one. So true, guys.

"Count on You": This is a sweet one. I LOVE the music video for it in the Jordin Sparks episode. It's just. It's smooth. It feels like silk in my brain, though it's not one of my faves. I especially like how Logan's part, "What would I wanna do that for?" comes right at the "four" mark in their counting. Very nice.

"Big Night": Was never really a fan of this one because something about the way the music is structured bothers me but it's super sing-able, so it gets some props for that.

"I Know You Know": This one was going to be number 12, but it gets a bump up due to the acoustic version from '22 giving me slightly more appreciation for it. My original list didn't even include this song because I totally forgot about it until just now when I was going through the album.

"Oh Yeah": Not much to say about this one. I didn't really listen to it when I was younger because it was a "James song" and he was my least favorite of the guys singing-wise. (I am SORRY James stans) Love the spinning Logan head in the music video, though. I remember the fandom really enjoying that part.

"Nothing Even Matters": I simply don't have feelings about this song one way or another. It's just there.

"Any Kind of Guy": I have bizarre issues with this song. Gives me sensations of unpleasant colors and patterns. Zig-zaggy and burnt orange and brown. Bleh. Last place for "Any Kind of Guy." I think the silly music video with all the costumes didn't help.

[montammil]

Forever Be Mine, part 4

Masterlist here!

CW: Yandere/creepy whumper, dubcon kissing(?), branding, manipulative behavior, tiiiiny bit nsfw

...

Sawyer leaned his head against Rowan's chest, giving in completely, too weak to move much at all anymore. Rowan carried him out of the basement and up the stairs to their bathroom. He set Sawyer down on the toilet seat and started filling up the tub with warm water. Once it was full enough, he picked him back up and placed him in the tub gently.

The water stung horribly against the wound on his side, making Sawyer's breath hitch in his throat. Rowan shushed him and grabbed a washcloth from the sink, wetting it and rubbing it over his body to clean him off.

"Don't worry, I'll bandage up your wound when we're done here," he assured him. "It'll heal up just fine, okay?"

Sawyer didn't respond, too exhausted to speak at the moment.

After wiping him down, Rowan reached into the water and began to soap up his skin and hair. He hummed softly while he worked, occasionally pausing to kiss his face or neck.

Sawyer didn't fight him anymore, just letting him do whatever he wanted and focusing on trying not to pass out, even if the thought was a little tempting.

When Rowan finished cleaning him off, he lifted him out of the tub and dried him with a fluffy towel. He laid Sawyer on his uninjured side on the bed and pressed a kiss over the burn mark on his skin.

"There we go," Rowan cooed as he rubbed aloe vera gel onto the wound. "Feels better now, doesn't it?"

Sawyer couldn't even respond, whimpering quietly when Rowan's fingers grazed over the tender area.

Rowan patted his back and moved away from him momentarily, only to return with gauze and medical tape. He applied the bandages to cover up the burn wound and held them down with a piece of tape on each end. After tying them securely in place, Rowan moved back towards Sawyer's face. He still smelled like blood, much to Sawyer's disgust. He traced along his jawline with one finger.

"Does it still hurt?" Rowan asked, stroking his cheek with a thumb. Sawyer nodded, unable to speak properly in his state. "I know," he sighed. "I hated having to punish you like that, but you gave me no choice."

He reached forward and pulled Sawyer closer to him, cradling him against his chest. Sawyer couldn't bring himself to fight back anymore. He just lay there limp and defeated, wishing he was anywhere but here.

He felt so humiliated by the situation he found himself in, by how much power Rowan held over him now. He couldn't even remember how many times Rowan had said "I love you" over the past few days, but it made him want to cry every time he heard it.

Tears rushed to his eyes as much as he so desperately tried to keep them down. Sawyer didn't want Rowan to see him like this, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of breaking him so easily. But at this point, he couldn't hold them back anymore. 

"Hey," Rowan whispered soothingly. "Hey, no no no no..." He pulled the smaller man into his lap and held him close while he cried into his shoulder. "Don't cry, honey." He stroked his hair tenderly and rubbed his back in slow circles. "Everything's okay now."

Sawyer shook his head. Nothing was okay anymore, nothing would ever be okay again. He could still feel the skewer digging into his flesh, could still hear the gunshots as Rowan killed him in cold blood. Could still feel the knife tearing through his shirt. It hurt so fucking bad and all he wanted was to go home. He was so dissociated he didn't even realize he was still completely naked until Rowan slid a pair of underwear onto him.

Rowan guided him down onto his side and tucked them both into bed, spooning Sawyer from behind and resting his chin on top of his head.

"It broke my heart having to do that to you," he mumbled. "I hate hurting you. But I had to do it to show you I am serious about this."

"Wasn't killing that guy enough?" Sawyer croaked.

He tightened his grip, causing a flash of pain to course through Sawyer's injured side. "If I let him live, he would've ruined everything," Rowan choked out. "I can't lose you, Sawyer." He pressed a kiss into his hair. "I can't live without you."

Sawyer didn't reply this time. He didn't know what he could even say to that without risking further punishment or worse. So instead he stayed quiet, letting Rowan hold him close and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until he drifted off to sleep.

...

When Sawyer woke up the next morning, Rowan was already awake beside him. He had propped himself up on an elbow and was staring down at him.

Sawyer glanced around the room and noticed a plate of food on the nightstand next to them, along with some pills and a glass of water. He had no idea how long it had been since he last ate or drank anything, but at this point, he didn't care either way.

"Here," Rowan said quietly, grabbing the pills off the table and handing them to him. "Take these."

The shorter man stared at the two pills in his palm. "What are they?"

Rowan smiled at him sweetly, "Just antibiotics."

Sawyer eyed him suspiciously. He didn't trust him, but with the pain in his side and the memories that would now haunt him for the rest of his life, he was in no place to argue. He reluctantly swallowed the pills and chased them down with a sip of water.

Rowan pecked his cheek before getting out of bed and stretching out his arms above his head. He returned to Sawyer with a piece of toast slathered with strawberry jam along with hash browns. Sawyer took the plate and set it on his lap. He ate slowly and tried to avoid eye contact with Rowan while doing so, who seemed to be watching his every move as always.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Sawyer glanced up at him through narrowed eyes.

"I'm just not hungry right now." He gave him a smile, "I know it's silly, but I like watching you eat. I like watching you do anything." Sawyer shuddered internally and averted his gaze downwards, focusing on his food instead of Rowan's eyes boring into him.

Sawyer wished he had any fight in him, but he just didn't. Hell, he didn't even have any compliance in him, either. He was always so good at putting on a charming smile and making people adore him with ease.

Now though? He couldn't muster up enough energy to fake something as simple as a smile. Rowan would surely notice if he tried anything at all though. And given how his luck had been going lately, he wasn't about to risk being tortured again anytime soon.

The idea of being tortured again made Sawyer's stomach lurch, so he put the plate back on the nightstand, unable to stomach more food.

Rowan frowned but said nothing about it. Instead, he draped an arm over him and leaned his head against his. Sawyer expected him to be happy about his compliance, but all he felt from Rowan was disappointment.

"What are you thinking about?" Rowan ran his fingers through his hair.

Sawyer flinched away from the touch automatically. "Nothing," he mumbled.

Rowan sighed heavily, "You can't lie to me."

Well apparently, he very well could. Sawyer almost chuckled at that irony. "I'm sorry," he blurted out before Rowan could do anything rash. "I'm just tired." He avoided his gaze but could feel it burning into him regardless.

He turned Sawyer's face towards him with a finger on his jaw and studied his expression for a few moments. Sawyer wasn't sure what he saw there, but Rowan finally let go of him and stood off the bed with a huff. "Fine then," he grunted as he stormed out of the bedroom.

Sawyer rolled his eyes at the petty behavior he was exhibiting. He was still recovering from being tortured only a few hours prior, and Rowan was being an immature child about him not indulging him in conversation.

He wouldn't have believed any of this was happening a week ago if someone told him this would be his future. Things had gone from him being a confident single man with a stable career to being the victim of a deranged stalker in the blink of an eye.

There were so many things that Sawyer wished he could've done differently. Maybe if he had just paid more attention to his surroundings, he wouldn't be in this mess right now.

The guilt weighed in his stomach like a ton of bricks.

An hour or so passed by, and Sawyer was still bored out of his mind. He hadn't heard a sound from Rowan since he stormed off earlier and wondered where he had gone to sulk away his childishness.

Out of curiosity, he stood to his feet and grabbed a shirt that he assumed was laid out for him, draping down to his knees. He ventured out of the room, careful not to make a sound in case Rowan was still sulking somewhere nearby.

Since the door wasn't unlocked, it was easy to assume that Rowan was still in the house somewhere. The question now was, where?

He stepped down the stairs, holding onto the railing tightly as he descended. Sawyer paused when he heard music coming from the kitchen. He tip-toed forward and peeked inside to see Rowan leaning against the counter while reading a newspaper. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail again and his reading glasses were on.

"Hello," Rowan greeted him without looking up.

Sawyer froze. "Hi," he mumbled back, moving into the room. He looked at the stove where a teapot was whistling loudly. Rowan turned off the burner and poured two cups of tea before sliding one to Sawyer. "Thank you," he murmured and took a sip.

It was earl grey again, and he preferred it over the other options Rowan had provided him with, though it brought him no pleasure knowing he had drugged him with the same thing in the past.

Rowan stared at him expectantly and motioned towards an empty chair. Sawyer hesitated for a moment before sitting down across from him at the table. He watched as Rowan returned to reading his newspaper, flipping through each page every minute or so.

It was hard not to stare at Rowan. He normally was so talkative and touchy with Sawyer, but now he just acted like he wasn't there.

Not that Sawyer liked his bubbly attitude. It was the most annoying thing he ever had to face.

But it was unnerving seeing him acting so cold. It made Sawyer feel small and insignificant. Like he wasn't worth Rowan's time at all. And if his own obsessed kidnapper thought that, then what did the outside world think? Did anyone even care that he was gone?

"Are you mad at me?" Sawyer asked softly.

Rowan only responded with an unamused hum.

Sawyer shrunk in on himself and continued drinking his tea silently. He had no idea what kind of mood Rowan was in right now and didn't want to upset him even more. He'd just need to find a different way out, even if it meant playing the long game. He could do that if it meant getting out alive in one piece.

"I'm not mad at you," Rowan spoke up finally. "I'm just... disappointed." He closed his newspaper and folded it neatly, placing his reading glasses on top of it. "I thought after everything we've been through together, you'd appreciate all I've done for you. I've done nothing but love you with everything I have, but you just..." His voice cracked, "You just take me for granted."

Was this bastard seriously about to cry? The same bastard who kidnapped him?

"I don't mean to," Sawyer rasped. "I'm sorry." He clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to say more than what he knew Rowan wanted to hear from him.

Rowan wasn't stupid enough to fall for the fake apologies a second time, though. "Really?" He glared at him. "You're sorry?" Sawyer remained silent. "Then prove it to me. Show me you're sorry. I'm done taking your word for it."

Sawyer hesitated. "What do you want me to do?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Kiss me." Right before Sawyer could say 'hell no!' Rowan added, "If you do, I'll take you outside for fresh air today." Sawyer only scoffed. "...and I won't tie you up when we're sleeping."

Fresh air did sound nice. And Rowan wouldn't tie him up at night? That was an even bigger incentive than getting fresh air.

The thought of finally being free from the ropes around his limbs did sound nice too, even if he didn't trust that Rowan would keep his promise. But he wasn't in a position to be picky, and maybe gaining his approval a second time would benefit him more.

Sawyer took a deep breath before standing up and walking around the table to stand in front of Rowan. The taller man looked down at him expectantly, waiting for him to make a move.

He stood on his toes and pressed his lips against Rowan's cheek before pulling away. 

Rowan tsked at him. "You call that a kiss?" Sawyer grumbled under his breath. "Kiss me properly."

He gulped down the knot in his throat and leaned forward, kissing him on the mouth this time. Rowan placed a hand on his waist, keeping him in place while his lips moved against his. Sawyer shuddered at the feeling of Rowan's tongue pressing into his mouth, making it difficult not to gag and pull away. But he forced himself to remain still and reciprocate until Rowan was satisfied enough.

After a few seconds, Rowan pulled away and smiled at him with half-lidded eyes. "That's more like it." He cupped Sawyer's cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb across it gently. "See? You can be good."

Sawyer averted his gaze. "So are you going to let me out?"

"Of course, I'm a man of my word." He took Sawyer's hand in his own and stood up. "Let's get dressed."

Rowan led him upstairs to the bedroom and dug into the wardrobe for clothes. He pulled out a coat, turtleneck, and slacks, tossing them onto the bed for Sawyer to wear.

He changed without complaint, even if wearing Rowan's clothes made his skin crawl. Rowan smiled when he saw how Sawyer looked in his clothes and didn't say much, just dressing himself in a similar fashion.

He took Sawyer's hand and walked him downstairs, guiding him to the front door and unlocking it. Sawyer inhaled deeply, smelling the fresh air and feeling the breeze brush against his face.

It was freezing out, and the sun was hidden behind gray clouds above, threatening rain any minute.

Rowan grabbed an umbrella on his way out and Sawyer followed close behind as he locked up the cabin and led them down the pathway. The lake was quiet and empty save for a couple of birds flying overhead. Even though Sawyer wasn't particularly outdoorsy, the view was pretty damn gorgeous. He wished he could've come here under better circumstances.

They walked down the path in silence until they reached a gazebo by the water, surrounded by trees and shrubbery. Rowan sat down on one of the benches and patted the empty space next to him.

Sawyer glanced around uneasily but obeyed, taking a seat beside him. He pulled his jacket closer to himself and rubbed his arms to warm himself up.

Rowan noticed this and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer to his body heat. He cringed and leaned away, but Rowan held firm onto him and rubbed his arm affectionately.

"Are you enjoying your fresh air?" Rowan asked, squeezing him tighter.

"Yeah," he responded. 

"Good." Rowan leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "I knew you would." Sawyer sighed and let Rowan hold him close without struggling or attempting to move away this time. He leaned his head against Rowan's shoulder and stared out over the water. "It's nice out here, isn't it?" Sawyer grunted in agreement. "Maybe next time, I'll take you out on the boat. I think that'd be romantic, don't you?"

Sawyer stiffened in his arms at the thought of being out on the water with nowhere to run to. But Rowan didn't seem to notice his reaction as he continued babbling on about how much fun they'd have together in the future. 

The sky was darkening overhead and a few drops of rain began to fall, causing Rowan to perk up.

He stood up from the bench and opened up his umbrella. Sawyer followed suit and stood beside him, shivering slightly in the cold air as Rowan held up the umbrella for both of them.

They walked back towards the house, stopping every once in a while for Rowan to point out a bird or interesting plant that caught his eye.

By the time they arrived back inside, Sawyer felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. He excused himself to use the bathroom, needing a moment away from Rowan's constant attention.

He locked the door behind him and turned on the tap water, splashing his face with cool liquid. Sawyer glanced into the mirror and winced at his reflection.

His eyes were red from exhaustion and his skin was pale. Dark circles were beginning to form beneath his eyes, which looked even more dull than usual. It was hard to recognize himself like this.

There was a knock at the door, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?" Rowan's voice was laced with worry.

"Yeah," Sawyer lied and wiped off his face with a towel. "Sorry." He unlocked the door and opened it to find Rowan standing there with concerned eyes. "Do you have to follow me everywhere I go?" Sawyer grumbled under his breath as he tried pushing past him.

Rowan stopped him in his tracks by placing a hand on his shoulder and gripping it tightly. "Yes," he hissed at him through gritted teeth, "because I need to make sure you don't run off again." Sawyer remained silent and allowed him to lead him back downstairs into the living room. "Sit down," Rowan demanded, pointing at the couch.

Sawyer plopped himself down on the soft cushions and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Rowan saunter to the kitchen and come back with more bandages in his hand.

He sat down beside him and reached over to remove the old bandages that were starting to fall off. 

This entire time Sawyer had been avoiding looking at them on purpose, but he was curious.

Rowan pulled up Sawyer's shirt and unwrapped the gauze around his waist, revealing a dark red burn mark that stretched across his lower abdomen.

At first, it was hard to tell what it said, but after a moment Sawyer realized that it spelled out 'R + S' inside a heart. He choked up at the sight of it and covered his mouth with a hand.

"What do you think?" Rowan asked hopefully as he grabbed ointment. "It looks nice, doesn't it?"

He couldn't respond. The horror was too overwhelming.

"Oh don't look at me like that," he chuckled, rubbing the salve onto his wound, "it'll heal perfectly fine, I promise." Sawyer didn't believe that at all, but there wasn't much he could do about it now. "I know it might not look pretty right now, but trust me, once it's healed up, it'll look amazing. We'll see each other's initials whenever we make love."

"We're never having sex," Sawyer muttered in disgust.

"You say that now..." He pressed a kiss over it, then applied a fresh set of bandages around Sawyer's torso. "I know you like dancing, so I bought a gramophone! I couldn't find the exact one you have, but it's still very nice."

Rowan removed a shellac record from its sleeve and placed it onto the gramophone.

A slow tune began playing, and he offered a hand to Sawyer, who hesitantly accepted it and stood up. Rowan wrapped an arm around his waist while Sawyer draped one on his shoulder, letting Rowan lead the dance.

He would have thought this was romantic if not for the fact that this was all an obsession from a psychopathic kidnapper.

"Do you know this song?" Rowan asked quietly while swaying them in rhythm to the music. 

Sadly, Rowan thought, because now it was ruined for him. "...Sweetheart, We Need Eachother... by Jack Payne," he mumbled. "1930."

"I'm impressed you know the date!"

"I love music."

"I know." Rowan's hand slipped lower, resting on Sawyer's hip. "I've never been the biggest fan of jazz or swing, but now that I think of you every time I hear it, it's my favorite genre." He chuckled and shrugged. "Though to be fair, I think about you 24/7. Every single second of every day." Sawyer couldn't help but shiver in discomfort at that sentiment. "Do you think about me too?"

It was impossible not to, considering it was impossible for Rowan to give him space for more than five minutes at a time. "A little bit," he replied half-heartedly.

Rowan beamed at him and dipped him backward. "Good," he purred, planting a kiss on his lips. "I want you to always think about me. About us. Nothing else matters." Sawyer glared. "Oh, do I still need to bargain with you to get a kiss?"

"I guess that depends on what else you can bargain." He didn't mean for it to come across as playful banter, but from the smirk on Rowan's face, he failed at that.

"Hmm... what would you like?"

Freedom was out of the question, even if Sawyer felt tempted to say that just to piss him off. "A pack of cigarettes?" Rowan's smile faded into a scowl. "Okay, fine. Uh... my phone?" He heavily doubted it'd work, but it was worth trying anyway.

Much to his surprise, Rowan nodded. "But only under the condition that this means I can kiss you whenever I like without a fight. No matter what."

Sawyer hated nothing more than kissing this creep, but it was only kissing, and then he could get his phone back. "Fine." He watched Rowan take off the record and sit on the couch, patting his lap. Sawyer took a deep breath and sat on his lap. Rowan cupped his cheeks and leaned forward to connect their lips. Sawyer shuddered but returned the kiss.

Rowan was a horrible kisser, which Sawyer suspected was because he didn't have much experience. Or maybe he was just bad at everything ever. Sawyer honestly couldn't care less; he just wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.

Unfortunately, Rowan was in no hurry. His lips were sloppy and clumsy as he moved them against his own.

Sawyer attempted to mimic his movements and found that they did work better together that way. Rowan was moaning into his mouth and gasping in between kisses.

He yelped when Rowan flipped their positions so he was straddling him, holding him against the couch, and grabbing his thigh to wrap around his waist.

Sawyer panted for air when Rowan finally pulled away from him to catch his breath. The taller man was flushed red and looked absolutely wrecked already from a single make-out session.

"Holy shit," Rowan breathed heavily. He was looking at him as if he had hung the moon and stars.

The shorter man's stomach twisted when he realized how hard he was against his leg. "Can I have my phone now?" 

Rowan blinked in confusion before remembering the deal they had made. He nodded and grabbed him by the hand, leading him outside, much to Sawyer's puzzlement. 

They stopped in front of a winterberry bush. Rowan retrieved a shovel from a nearby shed and began digging through the dirt.

When he had uncovered an object wrapped in plastic, he placed the shovel on the ground and lifted the object out of the hole. "Here." Rowan handed it over to him with a grin. "Sorry for the wait."

Sawyer examined it for a moment and peeled off the plastic to reveal the phone. His hopeful expression turned into anger very quickly as he looked over the device. He groaned in annoyance when he saw it was completely shattered to pieces. "You asshole! What the fuck is this?" Sawyer raised his voice, holding up the broken phone.

"What are you talking about? It's your phone."

"It's completely shattered! I can't even turn it on!"

"Oh, well that's also because I removed the battery."

Sawyer clenched his jaw in frustration. "Why the fuck did you even bother giving me a broken phone?"

Rowan was frowning, but Sawyer could see the smug smile tempting to make its way to his face. "You told me you wanted your phone. If you wanted a working phone, you should've specified that."

He was an idiot for thinking Rowan would've kept his end of the bargain. "Just--fucking whatever." He opened his mouth to yell at him more, but Rowan shut him up with a peck on the lips. Sawyer growled but knew he couldn't do anything about it.

Rowan had won, again.

[tired-biscuit]

i wanna be kiba’s little service-sub housewife who sucks his cock the second he gets home, who takes care of his morning wood, who gets bred full every night and who he loves so, so much🥺

oh, lord......... this has me running laps around my room. arching my back cos of the eagerness to please ahhhhhh, this is lovely <3

cw: free use // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

i feel like agreeing to free use would be really fitting for a man like kiba. knowing that he can have you anywhere, any time he wants, would drive him absolutely insane in the best way possible.

like, it's so easy - convenient. on some days, he comes home from work all fed up and sighing, and gets to fill up your throat with his fat cock just because he's had a shitty day whilst on the job, and wants to fuck your face as a result; trying to get rid of the frustration that's been building up through the entire afternoon.

and you just... well, you just take it. even poke your tongue out a little bit to try and take him deeper, and watch as his hand tightens its hold around the edge of the dresser until he's grunting, and his knuckles are stark white, and the wood is protesting underneath his tenacious grip until you fear that he might just break the goddamn thing to splinters.

and then on other days, he comes home from the gym and gets to bend you over the kitchen counter and have his way with you just because you look so cute and tempting whilst standing there; dressed in your little apron, and preparing him a nice dinner that you know he'll wolf right down after a hefty workout that leaves him this sweaty and flushed in the face.

and again, you just take it. you even go as far as to wiggle your hips a little and call him daddy as you step onto the tips of your toes, because you know it gets him so riled up that he starts pounding faster; harder. his dark hair tickles your cheek as he leans in to kiss your neck, and his entire body is so hot to the touch, it's slick with sweat. you can hear his ragged breathing mixing with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as his bigger hand finds your smaller one atop the counter; the golden band on his ring finger grazing your own, bumping against it with every brutal swing of his hips that he drills into your own.

judging from the way he's taking his sweet time to screw you like this, his dinner is bound to end up overcooked. but he doesn't seem to mind it at all. not when you're moaning his name out so sweetly, begging him to let you feel his warm cum dribble down your inner-thighs.

so yeah, you let him do as he pleases, let him have you in any way he wants. it makes him happy, makes him content enough to spoil you in other ways he deems fit. besides keeping you safe, he's ready to give you the moon if you so much as whisper of desiring it.

and speaking of free use, it's even better because he can tell when you're aroused just by your scent alone. he rarely uses the pass to have his way with you when you're not in the mood because he cares for you deeply even if he sometimes fucks you like he doesn't.

luckily for him, though, all you want to do is please him anyway. your complete and utter submissiveness to him; the way you're ready to part your legs for him whenever he demands it, feeds that insufferably male part of him to the point that he's ready to drop down to his knees and kiss the ground you walk on in return.

you basically worship each other.

[thegaybluejay]

Okay hi I’m back with another ramble-y ATLA character analysis since this is low key my brand on here lmao-

Today I want to talk about Zuko from the lens of someone who also had to deconstruct. This will be long, but please bear with me!

I was raised in a very white conservative evangelical Christian bubble where literally EVERYONE I knew for the majority of my childhood and teenage years thought mostly the same way. There was a lot of othering and shaming of anyone who thought too differently. Even if it was sometimes said more passively than cruelly, there was always that underlying tone. “The others/the people outside of our group/the worldly ones are lost and need our help because we’re better than them!”

While I strived to not be cruel, my beliefs were still harmful. I lost a few friends when I got to my mid-late teenage years because I didn’t yet know how to challenge what I’d been taught.

I see so much of myself in Zuko.

Zuko was surrounded by propaganda his entire life. He was steeped in it - steeped in the blood of those that the system he supported/represented had hurt and killed.

Anger is a huge part of all of this. While my anger was never quite as outward as Zuko’s (I hid it fairly well and was always known as the “pretty good kid”), I can still so heavily relate to his anger. His anger at always falling just short of being good enough or perfect enough. His later anger at himself for not understanding how fucked up the system was sooner. His anger at the people that failed and hurt him. His anger at realizing how he failed and hurt other people. All of it.

I also understand his backslides in Book 2 and early Book 3. When you begin tackling the first layers of harmful shit you’ve been taught, it can quickly become so tempting to just call it quits and go back. You almost start to romanticize the simplicity of life before you began this journey. The rules and goals were so straightforward back then, and deconstructing is messy as hell. Even if you were deeply hurting in your old life, at least you weren’t so damn confused. You used to know your next steps, but now everything is in disarray and you don’t have a direction to rebuild in yet. Going back almost feels like it would be a survival tactic, a way to have a sense of control again. Zuko definitely 100% needed to atone for what he did in Ba Sing Se because it hurt others, and while I’d like to think I would’ve made a different choice in his shoes, I also get it on some level. The confusion stage sucks, and it’s not always linear either.

But then.

One day, something just clicks. You eventually deconstruct enough that you truly come to full terms with how fucked up it all is. And you realize that you don’t belong there anymore, and the version of you that DID belong was just a facade. The blinders fully come off, they’re never going back on, and a spark lights in you that prompts you to make a big change. The deeper you go, the more urgent this deconstruction becomes in your mind because holy fuck I have to do something about this. I want this shit out of my brain for good and I want to help make things better. I want to learn who I am and finally live that out.

THAT is one of the most pivotal points in the journey, and I loved seeing it within Zuko’s arc when he comes to this realization after the war meeting in Book 3 and leaves to join the Gaang. I also loved that they didn’t trust him the first time he came to them - both he as an individual and the system that he had once supported/represented had hurt these people, and it took some real apologies and some time to build up trust. It also wasn’t done with half assed centrism either - it was “I acknowledge that this system is completely broken and wrong and I will do everything in my power to help gut it from the top-down and restore it with love”.

This leads to another pivotal point in the journey - instead of being motivated by fear like you were when you were deep in the indoctrination or by the raw anger you first felt as you initially left, you start to be motivated by love. And it’s the most freeing thing.

It was so cool to see Zuko learn that, while his anger was a helpful tool (ie: the confrontation with his father and his overall anger at the corruption he saw in his nation), he couldn’t be fueled by it any longer. He had to find another motivation to keep going, and he was then taught by the Sun Warriors and the dragons how to be motivated by light and life and love and also how to use those alongside an anger that was finally righteous.

And with this, he was ready to fight. To fight for a cause he knew to be good. To fight arm in arm with his newly acquired family. To fight to fix what his nation had done to the world and to itself. To fight for love and peace instead of division and hate and destruction.

And wow is it a beautiful journey.

TL;DR - Zuko’s story is so powerful to those who are deconstructing and I love him so much! I also just enjoy doing character analysis hehe.

(I really love talking about ATLA, so if y’all want me to analyze other characters or even plotlines through a specific lens, feel free to submit an Ask and I will happily do so!!!)

(Also, quick ending note - this is just my personal experience with deconstruction! Other people’s retelling of their own deconstructions may be different from mine, and that’s totally okay!!)

[welcometololaland]

WIP WORKING WEEK PART 1: THE RING-IN (AGAIN) (not sure if this is 57 sentences exactly but here you go - TK, Carlos and Nancy go to a spin cycle class, and TK and Carlos assess the quality of the restrooms).

The spin cycle class is exactly as TK expects – sweaty, loud and full of middle aged women who are far better at riding a stationary bike than he is. On the upside, he gets to sneak looks at Carlos every thirty seconds and appreciate another perfect part of his husband’s physique: the way the muscles in his shoulders flex as he shifts the distribution of his weight, the tight swell of his ass in workout shorts, the way his skin looks golden in the dim lights, glittering with sweat. 

On the downside, so does everybody else.

Carlos is so distracting that the instructor has trouble maintaining control over the class. Despite their spin bike prowess, many of the women seem to be gradually losing interest in the class as Carlos gets increasingly sweaty. At some point, the music gets turned up, as does the instructor’s mic, trying to redirect attention to the fact that they’re supposed to be changing their resistance every few minutes. On a quick glance, TK suspects a fair few people haven’t gone up a level for half the class.

TK isn’t typically the jealous type. In fact, he feels vindicated by the attention Carlos gets because he finds the man borderline irresistible, and being in love with such a gorgeous creature has made him do some pretty insane things. Even so, there’s a limit to how much appreciation he can endure before he feels the need to savagely stake his claim.

“Stop looking like you want to murder that poor woman in her sleep,” Nancy says through laboured breaths. They’re just about to get back out of the saddle, although TK has sort of lost which part of the class they’re up to.

“Her jaw is practically on the floor,” TK mutters. “Do you think she could pick it up one of these days?”

“You can’t seriously be jealous of Janice over there,” Nancy snorts. “Have you forgotten that your husband is completely obsessed with you? He bought you a pet lizard the other day.”

“Bearded dragon,” TK corrects. “And the fact that Carlos loves me isn’t going to stop me informing the entire class that he’s gay and he’s mine.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, blinking as the sweat from her brow appears to momentarily blind her. “You need to cool down,” she says drily. “Go outside and then come back in when you’re ready to play nicely with the other children.”

“What? And look like I suck?!” TK protests. “I’m not giving Janice the satisfaction.”

“You do kinda suck,” Nancy mutters, “also – and I say this in the nicest way possible – no one is looking at you.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” TK snipes as he stops pedalling and hops off the spin bike, plucking his water bottle from the holder like it’s personally offended him. “Also, you suck.”

“Don’t forget your towel!” Nancy snickers, and then wobbles dangerously on her bike as TK pulls it off with a flourish. He feels like a matador tempting a bull, because the instructor gives him a very dirty look.

TK has to admit, once he’s back in the cool, heavily air-conditioned hallway, he starts to feel a lot better. There’s something about getting sweaty in a room full of other sweaty people that grosses him out a bit and he’s admittedly not the best at being told what to do. Unless it’s at his job, but that’s because he respects his father and Tommy more than he respects most people. A hell of a lot more than he respects any spin cycle instructor, at least.

“Hey,” Carlos says, dropping down onto the bench seat next to him. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

TK takes one look at him and wishes he didn’t, because the concern written into Carlos’ expression combined with his sweat-slicked curls and the big, irresistible brown eyes renders him completely weak.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Just sick of how good you look. Also, I don’t like spin cycle.”

Carlos arches an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yes, you did,” TK mutters under his breath, but loses his train of thought completely as Carlos cups his cheek in one hand.

“You don’t like getting sweaty with me?” he asks, and although it sounds innocent, the wink that accompanies is anything but.

“Careful,” TK warns. “The restrooms are less than twenty feet away and I’m very frustrated.”

Carlos drops his hand and looks over his shoulder, before turning back to TK with a coy smile. “Think there’s anyone in them right now? The class is fully booked and it looks like the reception area is empty.”

TK stares, mouth watering. “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

“Well,” Carlos replies mildly. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

“I’ll show you something else I can rub off,” TK smirks, before taking Carlos’ hand and tugging him towards the door.