#and it's a shame they took that identity away from him

[flashfuture]

Something really special about Dick Grayson being the first kid sidekick Ever in comics. Even at Marvel, Bucky came on the scene a year later absolutely inspired by Robin. And would kid Bucky have snapped kid Robin in half? Easily. But the legacy of what it means to be a child superhero rests with one Richard Grayson

[hottestvirgin]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆.. | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

he might have just discovered another side of you and to be honest.. it turned him on

warnings(17+). smut, meandom!sunghoon, unprotected sex, name calling (bitch), creampie, backshots, dumbification

your best friend had just found your secret blog on tumblr where you wrote about all of the sexual desires you’ve had for him.

you had thought that you made the blog so discreetly, faking your own identity and who you were writing about. you had thought. nevertheless, sunghoon managed to find out that the blog belonged to you.

and it was unhinged; you wrote about how you would imagine him leaving wet kisses all over your aching body while he’s balls deep in you. or how you couldn’t even stare at him without thinking about fucking him.

how soaking wet your panties would be every time he would come over to chill. or how when you’d watch a movie with him, you would spend the whole time thinking of dirty scenarios: shower sex, angry sex, make up sex, floor sex, wall sex, pool sex, sex, sex, sex.

and you documented it all.. because why not? you wanted all your girlies who interacted with you to know how you felt about that man. you had no shame because of course he would never find the blog.

but damn, were you wrong.

it made your blood run cold when your “secret” username slipped past his lips. all the air in your lungs were stolen from that simple sentence.

“so that’s not you?” he cocked his head with that stupid know–it-all look on his face.

how.. when..?

“i read the stuff you wrote about me and it’s…” he paused, trying to find the right word, “wild.”

“it wasn’t even about you.” you argued, trying to act as nonchalant as fucking possible. it wasn’t working. sunghoon could see right through you.

“so the S guy you write about isn’t me?” he questioned.

well.. in your defense you were one-hundred percent sure that he or anyone else wouldn’t figure out it was about sunghoon just by the first letter of his name.

“you have a really big ego. what if i was talking about sunoo?” you interrogated, trying to flee from the scene but he took a step forward, firmly gripping your arm.

“d’you really think i’m dumb?” he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips as he spoke, “hm?”

“i-i said it wasn’t about you.” you said again. his grip on your arm had your stomach churning in arousal. your heart was racing, and you were certain that he could feel your pulse through your arm.

sunghoon tsked at your lie, “cool.”

maybe it was manifestation, or just pure luck. but that same arm was yanked behind you as sunghoon plunged his hips into you, splitting you open on his thick cock.

he cooed at your cute attempts at trying to squirm away from his staggering thrusts. “none of that— quit trying to run from it..” sunghoon grunted, voice trembling from how soft your walls were around his cock, “you was talking all that on your blog and can’t even take it? tsk.”

you hummed at his word, spit pooling in your mouth from being fucked so good that you couldn’t even remember to swallow anymore. “m’ s.. sorry, fffuck!” you squealed, but it didn’t stop his harsh thrusts.

he pushed your head into the mattress, treating your aching body like his personal fleshlight, “you’re such a dirty bitch. made to be fucked, huh?” sunghoon groaned at how wet you were and the sounds your cunt made. it was so filthy and only got him throbbing more and more inside of you.

he shoved two slender fingers into your mouth, sliding them down your throat as drool spilled down your chin, fingers digging into the mattress beneath you. you remembered writing about how much you’d love for this to happen. and it happened.

clenching hard around him, sunghoon pulled his fingers from your throat and wiped your own salvia across your face. “nasty girl.” he grunted, breathless.

you delivered a guttural scream when he smacked your ass, repeatedly. your thighs quivered as you tried to escape the pain, only to be forced still by his large hands. “c-can’t, i can’t! please..” you wined, screaming into the bedsheets.

“this is what you wanted, right?” sunghoon teased, referring back to your blog, “you greedy bitch, stay still and take this dick.”

you’re sooo full of dick that you can’t breathe properly. you were certain that you were taking all of him, but you can feel him sinking deeper and deeper into you as time passed. “i-i love your cock.. h-hoonie. s’ good, l-let me cum.” you whined.

“shiiit, go ahead.”

it took a long, hasty few seconds before you were convulsing around him and coming hard, harder than you’ve ever came in your life; everything cut to white noise and clear liquid spilled out of your cunt as his hips shuttered against you.

“that’s right.. keep squirting that filthy pussy for me.” sunghoon moaned. then he pulsed inside of you and shot his thick, sticky load into your cunt, painting your walls with his fluids.

it was like every muscle in your body had stopped working, body falling limp onto the bed. sunghoon stilled above you, pulling out to watch his cum flood and drip out of you.

“next time when you lend me your laptop, close your damn tabs Y/N.”

[radiance1]

"I need to find my darling husband!" Said Danny, dressed to the nines in a very elaborate royal dress with a lot of jewelry running through the ballroom after having been on the opposite end of a very worrying phone call.

"Seriously, what do you even see in that mortal!?" Screamed an observant and Danny stopped and leveled them with a glare cold enough to freeze over an active volcano and sharp enough to cut through obsidian.

"He makes me laugh."

Unlike those dead suitors went unsaid, but everyone at the ball (read: search for a bride/groom for the royal ghostling) practically heard it anyways.

Meanwhile over in the land of the living

Okay so Jason may have messed up. Now you see, he hasn't seen his platonic husband for tax benefits in a while, and he's been very careful to not let his identity as the Red Hood slip up before . Not even once in their relationship.

(He's not counting the time his in-laws sniffed him out as a Crime Lord, because Danny never believed them.)

Now, it wasn't exactly his fault he slipped up. You try to fight off an entire group after being pulled up on out of nowhere on the phone while trying to hide said noises of fighting.

Who was he calling? Danny of course since he said he was away for business. What business? Never specified and Jason wasn't going to pry.

So now here he was, bound 'helplessly' as Jason Todd along with a few other random civilians. Which, like, rude.

Wasn't he already good enough for this ancient ritual or whatever?

You know, he really should have walked with that "Anti-kidnapping device" he got that one time. Which honestly he feels like he should be surprised that such a thing exists but considering it was from Bruce. Well.

He's not surprised.

Oh, there's the Justice League now. Shame, he wanted to knock out a few guys himself- Oh, now he's being used to summon a ghost from the Infinite Realms of Royal Lineage.

Yea he probably should have walked with that "Anti-kidnapping device."

Wait a goddamn-

Is that-

"My darling husband!" Danny shouted, scooping him off the circle and away from the head cultist and swinging him around. "You had me worried sick!"

Now, he should ask the question anyone would in this situation when finding out your best friend and platonic husband for tax benefits was apparently a ghost of royal lineage.

"Why're you in a dress?"

"Okay, first of all I rock this thing." Danny huffed.

"That you do." Jason agreed rather easily.

"Second of all, blame those guys over there." He jerked his head in the direction of two very green floating eyeball people.

Not the weirdest he's seen, honestly.

The Observants were whispering to each other and leveling them-Jason in particular-a look.

"Now as you can see, I already have a spouse and I don't need another!" Danny hugged Jason closer for emphasis and he took the time to whisper in Danny's ear. "Did you really marry me to play the husband card?"

"Well, yes." Danny agreed. "But also because of taxes, because I love you and you're my best friend."

"So, we're still done for watching that movie right."

"Obviously."

A pained grunt came from below them and they both looked down to see Batman standing over a very unconscious cultist and looking up at them.

Hm.

He forgot they were there.

"So," Jason began, staring Bruce straight in the eyes. Batman's eyes narrowed. "Don't suppose we can push that forward to right now?"

"Yea, sure why not I'm not doing anything important." Danny leveled the Observants a look, and before either they, Batman, or the Justice League could do anything they both disappeared.

[xeas]

Can you please do a Norton and fool's gold with a reader where the reader has cinnamoroll personality (cinnamoroll is from sanrio)

MIND OVER MATTER IS MAGIC!

🍍 IN WHICH: drabbles (seperately) of Norton Campbell and Fool's Gold with a reader who is like cinnamoroll from sanrio (basically, shy yet sweet who will also help out their friends whenever they can)

🥥 NOTE FROM XEA!: thank you so much for your request! i love writing for norton but im wary my fools gold may ooc...haha...

🫧CONTENT WARNINGS: pre-established relationship, Norton may appear overprotective, mc may appear to be 'pure and innocent' in a fashion that may be perceived as corny to some readers. reader is referred to as "doll" in Norton's section, "babyface" in Fools Gold's. Seer is mentioned and Grave keeper is implied in Fools Gold section. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

NORTON CAMPBELL; The Prospector

NORTON swears up and down he's done nothing worthy of him deserving you.

The way your thumb grazes his knuckles in a comforting manner--whether to soothe your own nerves or his is unsure-- but the expression of innocence coated on your face both makes his heart sink to his stomach and gives him butterflies.

You have the eyes of someone who has gazed at few possible traumatic scenarios and the skin of one who not been lashed by the harsh truths of the world. He squishes down his feeling of envy when he feels he's going too far down the rabbit hole of his thoughts.

But now, as he bandages up your wound from the cold Night Watch, he can't help but realize how that weighs you down. It wasn't supposed to be you with the gash in your thigh it was supposed to be the teammate you wasted no time saving. You took a hit for them, and for what? So they could have a futile 5 seconds to run as fast as they could only for the harsh winter wind to yank them back to the hunter? You we're such a fool, having so much faith in these people.

But that's what led you two to become such a power couple. You gave him a chance.

"Norton-"

"Hush up, doll." And you do just that.

He looks angry and you feel nervous because of it.

"I'm sorry for getting injured." You mumble quietly. You don't expect a 'Its fine' or a 'Its not your fault' because this was a rookie mistake and you by no means are a rookie.

He remains silent, finishing up dressing your wound. His gloved hands go to hold your thighs as you sit in some corner of burned down building in the Arms Factory.

"Don't do that again." He states. Its not up for debate and you silently nod, moving to give his forehead a kiss as you steady yourself to get up and work on getting out of here.

NORTON CAMPBELL; Fools Gold (Hunter Identity)

"Hm, shame. Really."

Fools Gold let out a teasing laugh as he shoved you into a chair. He leaned on the wall behind it as you glared up at him. Fools gold clicked his tongue (does he even have one??) and fake pouted, most likely mocking you.

"D'aw, don't look at me like that, Babyface. You wouldn't be like this if you didn't sacrifice yourself for that silly little seer."

At least he was brutally honest.

Your muscles are screaming at you and you can feel them throbbing after you spent the last 2 minutes running and jumping and rolling to get away from him.

He traces your jawline with his pickaxe, you can feel your face heat up as Fools Gold lets out a wheezing chuckle. "All bark huh?"

You try to stutter out a response not until you see the ground beside you break. This was going to take a while.

୨🐙୧ ‧ 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼𝙉 𝘼𝙈𝘼𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘿𝘼𝙔! ⋆ ˚｡

🌺 𝙓𝙊𝙓𝙊,

XEA!

[imjustasimpxd]

Something Old, Something New

(Chapter One)

➬ Ken Sato x Fem reader

Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldn’t get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that he’s matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman he’s ever truly loved slip away from him?

Word count : around 2,500 words

Warnings : mentions of abandonment and neglect, arrogant Sato, sad reader, mentions of regret, angst

Author’s notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or stela my work.

Ken Sato. Looks, wealth, talent, charisma, and confidence rolled into one good looking package. 

The mere mention of his name was enough to cause an uproar of fanatics screaming and shouting in excitement, as if they were a pack of wolves howling at the moon. 

Though he was mostly known for his impressive baseball career, being named one of the most eligible bachelors in sports didn’t hurt his credibility either. If anything, playing the part of the charming ladies’ man only increased his popularity, especially to any of his adoring fans that were women, which most of them were.

After becoming one of the biggest celebrities in both Japanese and American sports, there weren’t many people who were ignorant of a household name such as his. Every man wanted to be him, and every woman wanted to be with him. 

To the public eye, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. But looks can be deceiving, can’t they? Especially when it comes to a man who’s spent years hiding his true feelings behind a veil of humor and charisma. 

No one could know how much he was struggling to keep it all together, or the depths of the affliction eating away at his heart. He was Ken Sato after all, and Ken Sato wasn’t weak, he was a legend, and legends never died, they prevailed. So, he must too.

No matter how much the reporters hounded him, using every possible tactic they could think of to pry into his personal life, Kenji never gave them more than a shred of minuscule details. Feeding them like rats, giving them only the bare necessities to satisfy their hunger for a short while before they came crawling back, demanding more. 

He never let them know more than he wanted, more than he felt like sharing, and frankly, there was a plethora of details he didn’t feel like sharing. 

His reputation of perfection probably wouldn’t uphold itself that well if the media knew about all the things he was wrestling with. Between being a newfound parent to a kaiju infant by day and a masked vigilante known as Ultraman by night, Ken didn’t exactly fit the cookie cutter version of “having it all together.” 

And if that wasn’t enough, then the shame he harbored towards a decision he made almost five years ago would definitely topple the pedestal he comfortably built his identity on. 

The press loved gossip, and they’d fight tooth and nail for even the smallest scintilla of drama. Twisting innocent words and blowing frivolous details out of proportions was the job of reporters. So, imagine the headlines they’d make if those reporters found out any real insiders on the life of the world-famous baseball player. 

Imagine the sales they’d make if a journalist ever got ahold of the information about his past, the same past he’s been hiding away from during his time back in Japan.  

He’s thought about calling, maybe writing a letter to express some form of condolences, but what if word got out? What if the press found out about the woman he used to be married to, the same one he abandoned five years ago in order to pursue his baseball career. 

Forget his most recent batting record, a scandalous story such as that would make headlines from both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and then there really would be nowhere else for him to hide from his past, lest he fancied moving somewhere more remote and secluded. 

If that day came, if Ken Sato was exposed for the decisions he made before becoming famous, then his reputation might take some irreparable damage. 

That’s why he was so closed off towards reporters, towards his teammates, towards everyone. 

Never let anyone close to you and they can never betray you. That’s how Ken Sato lives. 

At least, how he did live, before a little reptilian creature crawled into his life, forcing him to realize there were things that mattered more than wealth and fame.

Before taking care of a kaiju infant became the priority in his life, Ken Sato had rooted his worth in the success of his career. So once that career took off, offering him all the success and affluence he could ever want, he began to realize just how little he really had. 

Despite the riches, the popularity, all of it felt meaningless with no one to share it with. He could’ve held a party with hundreds of guests, surrounding himself with countless people all desperate to please him. Nevertheless, none of it would fill the emptiness engulfing his heart; knowing that no one he interacted with would ever see him as more than a means to financial gain and an increase in social status. 

He had a world full of convenience and opportunities at his fingertips, and yet, he never felt more detached from reality. 

His family was complicated, his friends were more like business partners who benefitted from their relations to him, and the one person he had ever felt truly comfortable around probably hated him now, after being dismissed in favor of baseball. 

In the end, even in a room full of dedicated fans, Ken Sato felt alone. 

However, then that little kaiju infant came along, and everything started to get better. Caring for a child, though tiring at first, gave Kenji something to work towards; a purpose that mattered more than advertising for energy drinks or scoring another record breaking hit at home plate. 

Emi finally gave him the one thing he always wanted, the same thing he always pretended not to need: family. 

After that, baseball didn’t seem to matter as much as it used to, unless he was teaching it to Emi. And all the wealth he had acquired over the years didn’t hold the same value as before, unless he was spending it on his adopted daughter. His lifestyle remained the same, but his heart was in a different place, a more peaceful one. 

Winning championships were more rewarding when he had someone to win for, someone to celebrate with afterwards. And now that he’d repaired the relationship between him and his father, things were looking promising for his future. 

But there was still one more roadblock, one last regret preventing him from moving forward completely. 

You. The woman he’d been married to for a whole year, and, regretfully, the same woman who asked for a divorce due to his neglectful and inconsiderate disregard for her. 

He was young and immature back then, foolishly believing the pursuit of his baseball career was more important than maintaining a healthy marriage. He was arrogant, thinking that extravagant gifts and vacations would keep you happy and secure his role as a provider. 

But he was ignorant to think that being married to you meant he no longer had to earn your affection. All the money and gifts in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that he was never home, and that you were never his priority back then. 

Every morning he’d wake up early, well before you, just to attend practice. And every night he’d come home late, just after dinner, claiming he had needed to stay longer than normal to practice more. 

You’d set out a plate for him, but after his baseball career started taking off, he didn’t really have the time for things such as family dinners or game nights; or so he said. 

He’d usually come home and skip dinner, taking a shower or going to sleep instead. You didn’t necessarily blame him for that, it was only natural for him to be tired from practice. But as the days of barely seeing him turned into months, and he started traveling consistently for his games, you started to feel more like a stranger to him than his wife. He was your husband on paper, but, in the confines of your home, you barely knew how to keep a conversation with him anymore. If you were being honest, you didn’t even really know him that well anymore. 

At least, not as much as you used to. Things were different when you first got married, he wasn’t always so arrogant and inconsiderate. Instead, he was passionate and playful, always knowing how to make you laugh after crying. Even on your first date, he was romantic and charming, making you blush to yourself every time a compliment slipped past his lips. 

But I guess the honeymoon phase people always warn you about before marriage was real; at least, it was for you and Kenji. 

Once his baseball career started taking off, the fame must’ve gotten to his head, and he forgot about the one woman who had been supporting him from the sidelines all along. You had gone to every game, recorded all his winning homeruns, supported his career even though it meant holding off on pursuing yours. And yet, he repaid you with neglect, with a one-sided marriage.

You held on for a while, convinced that he would come around, that his behavior would change and he would reflect on his actions. But after the one-year anniversary of your marriage arrived and he wasn’t even in town to celebrate with you, that’s when you made your decision. You were done being a second choice. 

You got in contact with a lawyer, gathered divorce papers and waited with bated breath till he got home from his trip. And the moment he walked in the door, you practically shoved the papers in his face, all the emotions you’d kept bottled up for so long suddenly coming out in a volcanic eruption of shouting and sobbing. 

And surprisingly enough, he stayed quiet through the majority of it, just watching with a hollow stare as you unleashed all the frustration you’d been harboring towards him. And without a word, he took the papers from you and fished out a pen from his desk drawer, signing them in silence. 

Maybe he had realized from your onslaught of emotions that you were better off without him, that he was clearly causing you pain, and you’d be happier once he set you free of him. Or maybe he really was just that heartless and figured now was the perfect opportunity to get rid of you. Either way, your stomach seemed to twist into a knot at the way he so casually signed those divorce papers and handed them back to you. 

This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? You’re the one who had gathered the papers in the first place, you should’ve been happy that he was finally ending it, finally setting you free. And yet, you felt yourself holding back tears at his lack of emotion. He didn’t try to argue, he didn’t plead with you to give him another chance like you had expected him too. He just admitted defeat, giving up on trying to fix your marriage and taking off for Japan two days later. 

He left, leaving you back in America while he returned to his home country to continue baseball there; abandoning his American team in the middle of their journey to the championships. 

He had given you an opportunity to move on, to become the person he always prevented you from being, and so you took it.

You cut all forms of communication, threw out everything of his that he didn’t take when he left, and moved into your own apartment. It was a fresh start, a clean slate, and you finally had the chance to chase after your dream career, just like he had been doing.  

So, you did, and you didn’t give up. You refused to, you owed this to yourself, and you weren’t going to waste any more time pouring effort into someone who didn’t appreciate it. 

So, you worked, tirelessly, anxiously, until the day came when your newest novel finally become a bestseller all around the nation, and you were officially titled a successful author. 

Now it was your turn, to stand in front of a crowd of adoring fans, to sign autographs and attend fan events. It almost reminded you of your ex-husband, how people used to scream his name and cheer for his success. But now they were cheering for you, supporting you like he hadn’t. You almost laughed at the irony of it all. Five years ago, you would’ve never imagined the life you’d made for yourself now, celebrating your fourth bestselling novel in a row and becoming a well-known author like you always dreamed of. 

And yet, looking back, none of this would’ve been possible had you not been set free from the restraints your marriage to Ken Sato had bound you to. Without him and the neglect he subjected you to, you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did. So really, in a way, you had him to thank for how far you’ve come and all the success you’ve accomplished. Because if he never signed those papers five years ago, you would still be tied down to a one-sided marriage. 

But you weren’t, and thank God for that.

Now you had moved on, and so had he. 

Or so you thought. 

Little did you know, Ken Sato was on a mission, and not as Ultraman this time. After undergoing the change and maturity necessary to become a parent to a kaiju infant, Kenji realized he needed to make things right between the two of you. Even if it had been five years since he last saw you. 

He wasn’t looking to ask you to take him back and rekindle your marriage, though he wouldn’t have minded if that ended up happening. Instead, he simply wanted to apologize for his actions, for being such a crappy husband back then. He had reflected a lot on the subject of your marriage over the past couple years, but, he never reached out in fear of your reaction to seeing him again. 

Although, after avoiding it for long enough, and getting a lecture about taking responsibility from his dad, he finally decided to go through with it and booked a flight back to America. 

He was nervous to say the least, but he knew he couldn’t back out. Even if you screamed and yelled at him, he had to take accountability for his past actions and apologize for the pain he’d caused you, for pushing you to the back burner while he allowed baseball to take priority in his life. 

He’d made peace with himself and his father already, thanks to the help of his adoptive daughter. So now it was time to make peace with you. And as he watched the plane lift off the ground from his window seat, he held his breath, wondering how you would react to seeing him again after so many years. 

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Tags : @thebadbatch @rlc-gg

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[laurajb]

“One, Two, Three!”

"Honey, your sister and I have decided to give you away to a young rich man who has a specific preference in girls," mom said with a smile. "We've hypnotized you and when I count to three, you'll fall madly in love with your soon-to-be husband and be eager to be his loving and dutiful wife, sure to seduce him tonight and make him very happy!"

"One..."

"Please mom, I'll do better in college! Just give me another chance!" I pleaded desperately.

"Two..."

"You can't get away with this, mom! I won't be your-" My words cut off mid-sentence as a strange sensation washed over me. I felt my mind start to fog up and my thoughts scatter.

"Three!" mom declared triumphantly.

As the magic of the hypnosis took hold, I felt my mind and body transform. My boyish features softened and shifted into delicate feminine curves. Suddenly, I was a stunning young woman, from the lacy wedding lingerie hugging my generous breasts to the flowing white gown and high heels I now wore.

I gazed at my reflection, dumbstruck. Long, dark hair tumbled past my shoulders and framed my beautiful new face. Gone was any trace of masculinity. I was the epitome of feminine grace and allure.

Mom clasped her hands. "Oh my, don't you look exquisite, darling daughter! Your new husband is going to be so pleased with his blushing bride, I just know it. Now be a good girl and seduce him tonight, okay? Mommy wants you to make him very, very happy."

I nodded, my mind hazy with hypnotic suggestions. All I could think about was my handsome groom and how much I ached to please him in every way imaginable. My new body burned with shameful arousal.

The ceremony passed in a dreamlike blur. Before I knew it, I was whisked away on the most passionate honeymoon of my life, an insatiable wife eager to fulfill my husband's every fantasy.

And so I surrendered to this new feminine identity, my mind and body bound to please my master for the rest of my days. This was my life now, and I couldn't imagine anything else. My old self was gone forever.

I was meant to be a sexy, subservient housewife, born to breed. And I couldn't wait to start our family together.

[hoony2k]

THE LOOKING GLASS

Synopsis: You've never had the best luck with love or in life, maybe that's why you're being comforted by your boyfriend's brother who happens to look identical to him.

Pairing: sunghoon x reader

Genre: a mix of fluff and angst, sunghoon is a twin, right person wrong time trope,

Warnings: mentions of being cheated on (reader)

Word Count: 1k

Note: hii another sunghoon post! I enjoyed writing this so much..why'd i eat with the title need to pat myself on the back

library

It's strange seeing your lover but not truly seeing them. Next to you under the dim porch light , sits Sunghoon with a cold glass of water.

The glass is frosty with condensation, droplets trickle down the boy's fingertips and your throat is flooded with an onset of emotions. His wrist must hurt from being in a rigid position for so long but there is no courage inside you that could take the glass from him.

It should be Sungjin next to you, but it's not- it's his identical twin brother. Park Sunghoon. The shadow. The ghost. The one no one talks about in family dinners, and often forget to message Happy Birthday!

Sunghoon lingers a comfortable distance, near enough for you to feel his warm yet far enough for you two appear as friends. He's always been respectful towards you, never dared to bring you discomfort, subtly looked out for you when he knew his brother was ignorant to your moods. Though, his kind actions never missed your radar.

Common sense urges you to thank him for the water, take the glass from him and down it in one go to prevent another pitiful crying session. But, your eyes are already misty. Sunghoon seem to doesn't mind the wait. You sniffle.

For eons the silence between your bodies stretches on. The house is vibrant with life and colour, muffled cheers and laughter resonate periodically. The wooden floor you took salvation in vibrates with bass.

Inside everyone in the Park family is celebrating Sungjin's new job across the country and you're bleeding out on the porch. Not alone in misery though, as it seems.

You almost don't recognise yourself when you speak, voice scratchy.

"I wish I never found out".

"Don't say that", Sunghoon whispers harshly. It almost floats away in the breeze but you catch it. You always caught his low murmurs and comments whispered under his breath.

Head heavy with shame you bow to nothing in particular. The deities must be laughing at you. How stupid were you really?

There's a shuffle as Sunghoon comes closer, his dry hand rests on your knee, warm, anchoring. the flame in your heart flickers dangerously.

From your peripheral, you eye him up and down.

His features look exactly like Sungjin's. Soft sloped nose sealed with a beauty mark near the ends, strong prominent eye brows and pouty plush lips. Though Sungjin has shorter hair that doesn't curl behind his ears, bleached so many times in his youth the ends are dry. Sunghoon doesn't have a mole on his left ear, a slight crooked canine or a rumble in his voice.

But Sungjin doesn't look at you like this. Hasn't looked at you like this- in years.

Brown eyed Sunghoon looks at you as if you're the most wonderful person he's ever seen. What swims in his pupils is fondness and a hint of worry, of protectiveness.

Sungjin looked at you as if he wished you were someone else. Almost as if he was trying his hardest to envision the doe eyed girl-who lived across the country-you caught him with.

And maybe you're a hypocrite for crying over him and whining about how he wronged you. Because your mind reels you back to occasions where you met his family, in those small moments where you disappeared in the background as Sungjin took the stage, or when Sungjin wasn't breathing down your neck for wearing a sleeveless dress, you caught yourself staring at Sunghoon.

Alone and silently wandering near the kids table. In those moments, it was only you and Sunghoon, trapped in a second together. A sweet secret moment where you truly saw him. Even if the adults didn't. Though, those moments lasted short, filled with Sunghoon rapidly asking you questions and your responding as quick, throwing in a joke or two, aware that something in the interaction would eventually become a secret inside joke. A fond jest he'd refer to during the next reunion, perhaps when he'd find you in the kitchen or when he'd raise his eyebrows at you from across the room. The pair of you trapped in time as all around you blurred past.

The feeling was mutual, it was pure, it was fondness, it was nothing serious.

"I wish I fell for you instead", your body moves on autopilot and you can't believe what you had just said. Shocked at the self discovery, a battle begins within you. Your face is warm with shame and guilt for roping him in your emotions, but you're relieved at the birth of the sentence. It was like finally confronting your reflection. Your heart felt lighter but your face heat up with shame.

Saying it out loud unsheathed the hidden truth, forced you to come in terms with the bitter reality. Sungjin stopped loving you when he was accepted as an intern in another city, maybe along the quiet days and lonely nights, you forgot how to love. Confused love for a routine, to be the polite, pretty partner wrapped around his arm.

Sunghoon sucks in a deep breath. His blown out pupils hide under his lids, lips pulled in a taunt line. Then he goes limp.

He slouches over his long legs clad in a black trouser, elbows resting on his knees.

Sunghoon's head hangs low, dark hair covering his face yet through the gaps of locks you see his eyes and his long yearning desires. His fingers, red from the cold sensation are numb, intentionally tipping the glass until water splatters on the chipped off wooden stairs. He lets the angle of his hand pour water until the amount doesn't reach the tip. Until it stops and the liquid can only slosh in the container.

Half full, half empty.

You glance at the small darkening spot, the wood dutifully soaking it all in. Then, stare at Sunghoon. Lip caught between his teeth, his eyes stare blankly at the ground but you drown in the abyss of despair and temptation inside them.

"I wish you fell for me too".

thank you for reading! Please do not edit/translate/copy.

[wantondoe]

The Lady and the Host

I wanted to write a series about the time Alastor still lived. It would be an Alastor x reader story. Due to the plot, the reader is depicted to be a female. I will put trigger warnings in the beginning of each post. As always, I'm open to requests.

Plot: Alastor, the charming local radio host meets the upper class lady (you) who studies medicine in a university. He is immediately drawn to her ambition and bluntness. But he has a dark double identity as a ruthless serial killer. He hopelessly falls for her while also struggling to keep his secrets.

Chapter 1: Darling

Once again, Alastor was late for work. He dragged his slender body through the streets of New Orleans while the buses were honking and children were running around. The crowd of busy men and women were darting around. A group of young women were somewhere behind him, waving their hands while glancing towards him with flirty looks.

He managed to slip away from the fangirls, walking through the door that would take him to a narrow spiral staircase. He ran up the stairs, taking long leaps. He slammed the door open and hung his coat, still maintaining his charming smile at his coworker, who was sitting in front of the microphones with a sour look.

"Ah, Ted my dear coworker! I'm afraid I ran late again eh-"

"Cut it Alastor! And it's Theodore!" the sour-faced middle-aged man snapped. "This is the third time this week you're late!"

"Now now, no need to pout my buddy! We still have time before the broadcast!" Alastor took a seat next to him.

"We have time because I set everything ready!" Ted folded his arms. "What's keeping you so busy? Did the ladies stop you on the streets again?"

"Ah, you're sharp aren't you, my friend? Yes, some lovely ladies really wanted me to know that I'm the most charming radio host in all Louisiana-"

"Yes, yes, we all know that everyone loves you!" Ted rolled his eyes.

"Worry not my buddy, the people love you as well! You're the original voice of radio after all!"

"Whatever, lad", Ted muttered. "Okay, we're going live in 10...9..."

"Oh, by the way I'll leave early today because I have to attend this party!"

Ted stiffened in his chair, his eyed widening. "YOU WHAT NOW?"

"Ah, good morning New Orleans! Good to be on air, absolutely terrific!" Alastor spoke smoothly while Ted was muttering curses away from his microphone.

That was just a typical morning for Alastor, the young prominent radio host of New Orleans. He had gotten so popular that he had started to get invitations to parties. He had made some significant acquaintances that helped him further develop in his career. Being a charming, talented, young man he was really making a name for himself.

Fixing his red bow, he stepped in through the heavy doors, entering a large ball room area. It was lit by heavy chandeliers. Well-dressed ladies and gentlemen were mingling around with champagne glasses in hand, while loud jazz music was playing. This was the kind of party where upper class men and women came to misbehave, to drink and dance without any shame.

Alastor genuinely enjoyed a good party. Even though Alastor came from wealth as well, he still found the people a tad stuffy. It could be difficult to find people with original thoughts in a place like this. He started his so-called "hunt" to find new, like-minded people.

As Alastor mingled and walked through the crowd, it came apparent that he already knew everyone. He kept up his flashy smile and charming persona, while on the inside, her was bored to death.

Alastor was a man who seemed to have it all, a career, admirers, wealthy family, friends, the looks and brains... But in fact, he was just a shell of a person, no better than the stuffy Louisianans. He strutted across the floor, searching for a new face. He had almost finished his champagne, when he saw you, the most fascinating sight of the evening. He hadn't seen something as adorable for a while, the way the silk of your dress danced around your legs as you turned around to meet the people around was simply beautiful. The colors of your outfit complimented your skin that seemed to glow under the dim lights. He walked closer, taking in your hair that was neatly combed behind your ear and secured with a pin. The moment he saw you smile through your sparkling eyes, he knew he had to talk to you.

He took confident steps to you, making sure to try to smile with his eyes as well. He watched the group of people leave your side before walking closer, closing the remaining distance between you two.

"Ah, dear, I believe I haven't seen you around before! Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" he said his usual greeting, kissing the back of your hand with grace. He gazed at you, trying to read your expression.

"Pleasure", came your short answer. You didn't seem too impressed, which irritated Alastor. He was used to people basically worshiping him. "And my name is..."

"Oh, what a lovely name! Just darling! What is a pretty lady such as yourself doing here all alone?"

"Well, I like being alone", came your bold answer. Alastor chuckled.

"Oh, I see", he hummed.

Quite honestly, you were tired of these young, entitled men flirting with you. It seemed as if all of them were the same. Alastor was quick to notice your disinterest, which bruised his ego.

"Shall I ask you for a dance?" he asked.

"Well..." you averted your gaze, looking a little flustered.

"Please.... Darling", the latter word rolled on his tongue like sweet poison. He smiled slyly, his gorgeous eyes half-lidded. He was like a businessman buttering someone up.

You made the mistake of looking at his face. The moment you saw his ridiculously handsome face, you knew you had lost. He might act like every other young man, but his looks were simply out of this world. His dark skin looked incredibly smooth, and you couldn't help but let yourself wonder how it would feel under your fingertips-

"Darling", Alastor repeated, chuckling. He had noticed your drifting mind. It was something young ladies such as you often did when looking at him. He was pleased to say the least. Finally you were paying attention to him. "Please, dance with me", he pleaded, offering his hand.

"Well I suppose I could, but only this time- WOAH!"

You were being yanked towards the dance floor by Alastor, who was grinning widely, his eyes loving as he gazed down at you. You were surprised by his spontaneous ways. You felt your face flush as he pressed his warm torso against you, leading the way on the dance floor. The fast phased jazz music was keeping them moving fast, their legs almost tangling. Alastor was quickly bringing you out of your shell, and you didn't mind.

Somehow, Alastor managed to make you loosen up like you had never before. All the stress from the week seemed to vanish as he held your wist on the dance floor. As the music slowed down, the tension between you and Alastor grew. He wasn't taking his eyes off you, holding you like you were the most precious thing.

"Shall we get some fresh air, darling?"

Alastor led the way to a cozy garden. There were a few wooden benches, roses were growing all around, making the air smell floral and romantic. The garden was lit up by lamps and the cool, calming moonlight. Alastor sat you on a bench before sitting next to you, sneaking his arm around your waist. Usually you would have snapped at anyone who dared to touch you in such intimate way. But for some reason, his touch didn't feel vile or bothersome.

"Darling", he hummed, holding you close. It was as if he had already decided that you were soulmates. Maybe you were. "I',m so glad I met you."

"Oh Alastor, don't get all cheesy now", you warned playfully.

"I can't help it, dear. You make me a hopeless romantic!" he exclaimed with a theatrical hand gesture.

You two continued sitting in the rose garden, enjoying the evening together. Eventually, you felt your eyelids get heavier, your body relaxing against his warmth. You let out a small, adorable yawn.

Alastor chuckled softly. "I see you are getting tired, my darling. Shall I walk you home?" he suggested, helping you stand up. "Come on, doll. I'll make sure you get home safe and sound!"

Alastor walked you through the streets. You watched the lights from restaurants and bars light up the narrow street, feeling warm and cozy. You braced yourself for the part where you two would walk by a smaller side alley. That alley always made you feel alerted. Your heartbeat quickened as you two passed the shady alleyway, Alastor's grip on your hand tightening.

"Just walk with me, darling", Alastor whispered, leading you past the shady part.

You felt the effect of the champagne wear off, your tipsy haze clearing up. Suddenly you realized that you didn't even know this Alastor so well. You knew he was an upper class man who had his successful radio show. You knew he was a popular one in the high society. But that was all superficial... You started getting this odd, creepy feeling as the night suddenly turned eerily quiet, only the faint sound of wind filling the air. You slowly gazed up to him and saw his smiling at you, his eyes gleaming in the dark. You forced a smile and looked away, trying to maintain some sort of composure.

"Darling, you've gone awfully quiet", he pointed out, his voice calm.

You were still young, but not stupid. You knew that the world could be a cruel, unjust place, especially for women. So, you started playing horror scenarios in your mind. Alastor was a tall man, he could easily-

No. You had to stop thinking about it like that. He wouldn't do anything, would he? Alastor had seemed so sweet, so genuinely caring....

"This is your house, right? 13B?"

You snapped out of your thoughts as Alastor stopped in front of the house you lived in. The familiar neighborhood immediately brought some sense of comfort to you. The atmosphere got lighter and you abandoned the dark thoughts that you've had earlier.

"Yes, this is it", you muttered nervously.

"Well, Miss, it had been quite the pleasure!" he grinned, kissing the back of her hand once again. "I expect to see you soon again, darling", he said, his voice low and seductive.

"Y-yeah. Good night."

"Good night, darling", he wished, his voice almost a whisper. He turned on his heels, walking back into the darkness.

After he had disappeared from sight, you let out a loud sigh. You were safe, you were okay. The front door of the house opened and your maid called for you. You happily ran inside the comforts of your home, the lovely night spent together with Alastor still fresh in your mind.

Meanwhile Alastor walked along the quiet streets, embracing the creepy atmosphere. He whistled a sinister rhyme, his hands shifting in his pockets.

Alastor could be the sweetest angel when he wanted to. he would sweet talk even the coldest person until they melted for him. He could make anyone trust him and he was excellent at controlling the way people saw him. But like everyone, he had his secrets too. He dragged his lean body in a side alley, his narrow shadow following. A hand was swung, blood was shed and soon after that, quick steps followed.

Now that Alastor had finally found someone, you, that made him feel something, he would make sure to eliminate any threats out of your way. Even if that meant getting his hands dirty. Alastor if anyone really hated making a sloppy mess!

"Anything for my darling..."

[just-aake]

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A sudden mission on New Year’s Eve brings Natasha face to face with someone from her past.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 1410

11:55 P.M.

Surrounded by the lively atmosphere of Times Square, Natasha glances at her watch to check the time before looking around at the excited crowds of people, all waiting for the annual New Year’s Eve Ball Drop to start.

Laughter and cheers fill the air as she withdraws to a more secluded spot, raising her hand to her earpiece to speak through the comms.

“I’m at the location.”

SHIELD had intercepted a suspicious encrypted message a few moments ago, indicating that something was set to happen in the area tonight. Being the only one available nearby in such a short time, Natasha took on the assignment.

After a brief static pause, Maria's voice comes through the comms.

“It’s a shame that this had to interrupt your holiday evening.”

Taking a moment to scan her surroundings, Natasha replies nonchalantly, “I could say the same for you. Besides, it’s fine. It’s not like I had any plans.”

A curious hum comes in response before Maria asks, “No special someone to begin the new year with?”

At her words, the face of someone from years ago unexpectedly crosses Natasha’s mind, accompanied by flickers of memories recounting moments filled with late-night escapades and adrenaline-filled touches.

One particular memory stands out–of a night similar to tonight, atop a rooftop, shielded from prying eyes. 

Two people shared a rare moment of vulnerability, and against her better judgment, she wished life had played out differently for them—an unrealistic hope.

11:56 P.M.

“No,” Natasha replies to Maria’s question as she pushes away those thoughts and refocuses her attention back on the crowd. 

Amidst all the joyous people, Natasha finally spots the individual they were seeking—a slippery criminal with a history of working for a notorious crime family that once controlled these streets.

The members of that family were taken down and arrested by an undercover SHIELD operation years ago, leading many of their associates to either scatter or continue their own shady activities in the city.

This particular individual belongs to the latter group and has proven to be very elusive, successfully evading capture from SHIELD multiple times.

“I’ve got eyes on the suspect.”

As she utters these words, the man locks eyes directly with her, as though she is the intended target instead.

Discreetly, he reaches into his coat, revealing a mysterious device with an ominous, glowing red button at its center. He briefly flashes it at her before tucking it away and swiftly turning around to disappear into the crowds.

11:57 P.M.

Immediately, Natasha gives chase, her eyes fixed on the suspect darting through the masses of people. With adept skill, she effortlessly maneuvers through the crowds, rapidly closing the distance.

As the suspect pushes through the final layers of people, Natasha spots another figure emerging from the shadows toward him.

In a swift and seamless exchange, the mysterious device changes hands from the original suspect to the newcomer.

Natasha’s eyes narrow suspiciously at the action when suddenly, the two figures split off in opposite directions, causing her to realize what that means.

Either she continues chasing the elusive criminal they've sought for so long, or she goes after the person now in possession of the unknown device, which may pose a potential threat to everyone in the area. 

Without missing a beat, Natasha alters her course to pursue the newcomer. Surging forward, she vaults over one of the crowd barriers, tackling the figure mid-stride, and sending them both crashing to the ground.

The impact elicits gasps of shock from the few people nearby as Natasha swiftly recovers, pinning the suspect to the pavement.

The newcomer wears a mask over their eyes, concealing their identity from anybody who looks at them.

Not from her though.

Natasha is taken aback as her lips part in surprise. She easily recognizes those particular sets of eyes, especially when accompanied by the knowing smirk forming on their face in response to her reaction.

11:58 P.M.

Natasha is still rattled by the revelation of the figure before her, allowing them to seize the opportunity to escape from their pinned position, forcefully knocking the Black Widow aside before swiftly resuming their sprint.

Partially recovering from the shock, Natasha's instincts kick in, and she rushes to pursue, her mind still grappling with disbelief.

It can't be. That thought repeats in Natasha’s mind as she follows the figure into a condemned building site.

She recognizes the structure immediately, both from that particular memory of the past as well as its status as an old building that fell victim to one of the Avengers' numerous battles.

Natasha enters the ruined building through the recently shut side door, finding herself in the emergency stairway that miraculously remains intact.

Glancing up, she spots the suspect running up the stairs, quickly ascending to the higher levels of the building.

11:59 P.M.

The anticipated event unfolds outside as the ball at the top of the Times building starts its descent, marking the last minute of the year.

Amidst the beginning of the countdown chorus from the crowds outside, Natasha also starts running up the stairs.

The echoing footsteps of the other person above her drive her to accelerate to catch up, sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

11:59:30 P.M.

Natasha’s heart beats painfully in her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline or from the overwhelming sight of seeing you again—maybe it’s both.

After all, you’ve always had that effect on her.

“Three!” - 11:59:57 P.M.

Bursting through the roof door, Natasha slides to a sudden stop at the edge of the dilapidated floor. Dust rises at her movement, and small rocks roll and tumble over the edge, falling into the gaping hole.

“Two!” - 11:59:58 P.M.

On the opposite side of the large chasm, balancing precariously on the rooftop edge, the suspect stands, hands clasped behind their back, awaiting Natasha's arrival.

“One!” - 11:59:59 P.M.

With her attention now fixed on them, the figure removes the mask covering their eyes with a dramatic flourish, letting it drift off in the wind and fall gracefully towards the cheering crowd below.

12:00 A.M.

The night sky explodes in colorful lights, illuminating your silhouette.

Natasha stands frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you again, with your Cheshire smirk firmly in place as the remnants of the fireworks rain behind you.

It's a perfect reminder of who you are—beautiful yet dangerous.

In one of your hands, you teasingly wave the device with its ominous red glow at Natasha, while your other hand raises to your lips, playfully sending a mock kiss her way.

With a mischievous wink, you suddenly toss the device toward her, the gentle force of your action causing it to barely reach over to her side.

Reacting quickly, she stretches her arm to catch it before it can fall down the hole, pulling herself safely back from the edge once it is in her hand.

Regaining her balance, Natasha's gaze shoots back to you, or where you should've been, but now there's only dust kicked up by the cold wind. Furrowing her brows, she scans her surroundings again but finds no traces of you anywhere.

You've slipped away.

Returning her attention to the device in her hand, Natasha turns it around, removing the back covering.

Now knowing who she is dealing with, she is not surprised when she finds no activation triggers or wiring—just a battery-powered red LED bulb and a piece of paper folded inside.

Natasha raises her hand to her earpiece, activating the comms. 

"Hill, the device is a fake. It was all just a wild goose chase."

"And the suspects?"

"Escaped," Natasha replies regretfully, looking back at the empty rooftop space.

"From you? That’s impressive."

Again, Natasha isn't surprised; time in prison clearly hasn't dulled your skills. Though, now, she needs to consider the implications of your unexpected and sudden return to the city.

"Can you check something for me?" Natasha asks into the earpiece.

"Sure, what is it?"

"The confinement statuses of all the members of the L/n family."

Maria lowly whistles before commenting, "Haven’t heard that name in a while. Isn’t that the crime family that you took down during your first solo undercover mission?"

12:01 A.M.

Natasha remains silent at that, her eyes fixated on the piece of paper in her hand. The fireworks illuminate your familiar handwriting periodically against the darkness of the night.

Happy New Year, Natasha  Let’s play again soon 🤍

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading, and an additional special thanks for all who have read any of my other writings this year. I really appreciated all the likes, reblogs, and comments that you have given me (many of you are so sweet and kind for reading most or almost all of the things I wrote). Thank you again, and I hope you all have a happy New Years!

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

There are some heavy anti parallels between Daenerys Targaryen and Joffrey Baratheon/Cersei Lannister as monarchs in the way they treat Ser Barristan Selmy.

Joffrey dismisses Barristan Selmy from the Kingsguard because he needed someone to blame for his father's (Robert's) death. Of course, Joffrey is in reality his mother's puppet King, who considers dismissing Ser Barristan Selmy a great decision, as it would clear the way for Jaime to become the commander of the Kingsguard and give his a seat on the Small Council ( and Lannisters are all for nepotism in the way they run things). Plus, with Ser Barristan Selmy gone, Joffrey could make his personal guard Sandor, a member of the Kingsguard, something that Cersei also considered a winning situation.

Cersei sighed. "Joff wanted someone to blame for Robert's death. Varys suggested Ser Barristan. Why not? It gave Jaime command of the Kingsguard and a seat on the small council, and allowed Joff to throw a bone to his dog. He is very fond of Sandor Clegane. We were prepared to offer Selmy some land and a towerhouse, more than the useless old fool deserved."

Tyrion I, ACOK

The above passage not only reveals that Joffrey is his mother's puppet King but also that Cersei isn't the most clever person when it comes to ruling. Not only she fell for Varys' plan but she is also a very bad judge of other people. She considers Barristan Selmy an "useless old fool" when he's a great fighter and an asset due to his experience and strength for any ruler to have by their side. She also considers a great exchange to have Sandor in Barristan Selmy's place and we saw how that worked for the Lannisters at the end of ACOK.

Another passage on this specific incident that shows Cersei's myopic way of thinking:

"Ser Barristan was the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard," Tyrion reminded her pointedly. "He and Jaime are the only survivors of Aerys Targaryen's seven. The smallfolk talk of him in the same way they talk of Serwyn of the Mirror Shield and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. What do you imagine they'll think when they see Barristan the Bold riding beside Robb Stark or Stannis Baratheon?"

Cersei glanced away. "I had not considered that.

Tyrion I, ACOK

Let's compare it with Daenerys, who finds out that Ser Barristan Selmy was lying to her about his identity. What is more, she realises that the man she trusted as her advisor was serving Robert Baratheon for years. Ser Jorah, in a move that closely reflects Varys' manipulation of Cersei/Joffrey, offers to kill Barristan Selmy for Daenerys. But Dany, needs to first listen Barristan's story before she decides what she'll do with him:

"Why are you here?" Dany demanded of him. "If Robert sent you to kill me, why did you save my life?" He served the Usurper. He betrayed Rhaegar's memory, and abandoned Viserys to live and die in exile. Yet if he wanted me dead, he need only have stood aside . . . "I want the whole truth now, on your honor as a knight. Are you the Usurper's man, or mine?"

"Yours, if you will have me." Ser Barristan had tears in his eyes. "I took Robert's pardon, aye. I served him in Kingsguard and council. Served with the Kingslayer and others near as bad, who soiled the white cloak I wore. Nothing will excuse that. I might be serving in King's Landing still if the vile boy upon the Iron Throne had not cast me aside, it shames me to admit. But when he took the cloak that the White Bull had draped about my shoulders, and sent men to kill me that selfsame day, it was as though he'd ripped a caul off my eyes. That was when I knew I must find my true king, and die in his service—"

"I can grant that wish," Ser Jorah said darkly.

"Quiet," said Dany. "I'll hear him out."

Daenerys V, ASOS

Daenerys, unlike Cersei, won't allow any advisor of hers to cloud her judgement. She knew beforehand that Ser Jorah was antagonistic towards Ser Barristan so even if she doesn't fully know the reason yet ( the revelation that Jorah was a traitor happens right after that passage) she won't allow him to interfere while she gets Barristan's confession.

Of course, after she finds out that not only one but two close advisors of hers have betrayed her she has a strong reaction. It's only natural for her to do so. And yet, despite that antis always accuse her of being merciless, she shows mercy while dealing with them. Another ruler would execute them both for treason and no one would bat an eye. In fact, everyone would say that their action was justified while treating with two traitors. But Dany admits on her inner monologue that she can't do that:

Go, go away forever, both of you, the next time I see your faces I'll have your traitors' heads off. She could not say the words, though. They betrayed me. But they saved me. But they lied. "You go . . ." My bear, my fierce strong bear, what will I do without him? And the old man, my brother's friend. "You go . . . go . . ." Where?

And then she knew.

Daenerys V, ASOS

When they both return successful from their mission to help the capturing of the city of Mereen, it's time for her to decide what she'll do with each of them.

Even while she has every right to be angry with them - and she is- she is still fair towards them and admits twice that they helped her to win Mereen.

Before she makes her decision, she opts to listen to Barristan's story once again, to understand better the reasons why he acted the way he did. It's a good move for a leader because someone who leads needs to know all the facts in order to make a fair judgement on someone. And that's what Dany does.

Barristan doesn't sugarcoat his opinion. He tells her that he considered Robert a good man and that's why he followed him instead of Viserys who he thought to be unfit to rule. He even tells Dany that he lied about his identity because he wanted to make sure she was - unlike her father and brother Viserys- fit to rule before he pledged his sword to her.

Once again, another ruler would be offended by the knight's words. He insulted her dead relatives by calling them unworthy to rule,which are true facts but how many rulers or even mere noble do you know besides Dany that would accept hard truths about their families? And then he proceed to tell her that he didn't automatically choose to follow her because she's the rightful ruler - remember both Dany and Barristan live in a world where they believe in ruling by birthright- but first he had to test her abilities to rule. And Dany was okay with that! How many rulers or again mere nobles do you know that would be okay with someone questioning their birthright and telling them that they need to prove their worth before they claim it? I really believe that as a fandom we don't give Dany the recognition she deserves for being more humble than most while dealing with these subjects.

Daenerys decides to allow Ser Barristan Selmy to remain by her side and that shows her political genius - which again is hardly recognised in the asoiaf fandom. She set aside her hurt pride by the knight's words and saw the bigger picture: someone who decided to follow her not simply because of her birthright but because he considers her a component leader is gonna be forever loyal to her. And Barristan Selmy is an asset for a ruler to have by their side, something that Tyrion had pointed out on his own chapter while he was dealing with the knight's dismissal by his nephew/sister.

And Dany made the right decision because we can see how much loyal Ser Barristan is to her on the fifth book of the series. He remains loyal to her even after Dany goes missing towards to the end of the book.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 146 }

sands of time.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ the spell on me hasn’t been lifted | i want to use the sands of time | i want to be by your side }

you never liked the freshman student who entered the same high school as you.

the one who made all the boys become green with envy over-

the one who made all the girls practically fall to their knees for him-

sung jinwoo.

despite how all the girls went crazy over his dashing good looks and charming smile, you sadly never saw his appeal. for you personally, he looked just like any other guy. nothing about him stood out to you-

especially not his perfectly styled ebony locks of hair,

or the grey eyes that you swore sometimes glowed purple in some instances,

or the full lips that remained in a permanent smile whenever he met your gaze-

yeah, there was absolutely nothing appealing about him!

you suppose you should count yourself lucky on how you didn’t share the same class with him, being in a different homeroom as you simply saw him in passing within the hallways and heard stories about him from the gossiping girls who wished to date him.

as you trail your eyes away from your open textbook, the sounds of a certain commotion was heard as one of your classmates runs back into class. her friends were comforting her as angry tears fell down her face.

“what gives?! just what is up with that sung jinwoo guy! doesn’t he realize that i’m practically the most beautiful girl in school here!”

ah, ji-yeon was throwing another tantrum again, running her hands across her luscious, brown locks of hair with her blue eyes fuming after what you assumed was sung jinwoo’s rejection.

filled with amusement from witnessing the spectacle, you trail your eyes over to ji-yeon and her lackeys, ara and cho. “he kept telling me that he couldn’t possibly give me a chance; that he was already in love with someone else, yet refused to relinquish her identity to me!”

“ah, he probably didn’t want you to bully her, ji-yeon.”

“and come on, you shouldn’t feel so upset! you can do so much better than him!”

“but i don’t want anyone else…! i want him!”

you had to bite back your laughter the moment ji-yeon stomps her feet against the ground, “and that’s what pisses me off the most! who even is she, managing to steal jinwoo away from me like that?!”

you could no longer hold back your laughter, making a snort escape from your parted lips in response to ji-yeon’s anger. she hears you and turns to face you, tossing back her hair in response. “what’s this?”

she lets out a hiss of your name, “how dare a wallflower like you eavesdrop on my conversation.” the girl gains up on you with her two friends in tow.

“i didn’t eavesdrop. you were the one who kept airing out your business in class.”

she clicks her tongue in response to your words, “it’s lunch time, are you really that much of a loser, eating all alone in class like this?”

“no, i simply didn’t want to eat in the cafeteria and be bothered by idiots like you. but i guess even with my best efforts, i couldn’t escape you at all.”

your gaze was unflinching even as ji-yeon raised up her perfectly manicured nails to strike you, ready to take the hit when the sight of someone tall stops ji-yeon’s hand from making contact with your cheek.

your eyes go wide, seeing sung jinwoo himself hold ji-yeon’s hand in a vice grip. his eyes were glaring down at her, making you see that same familiar glow.

his voice was filled with authority when he lightly shoves ji-yeon away from you. “that’s enough.”

“sung, what are you doing here?” ji-yeon’s voice comes out as strained as ara and cho took a stance behind her, ready to support her even when they felt intimidated by jinwoo’s glare.

“i heard you throwing a tantrum and decided to intervene before you did something stupid.”

ji-yeon’s face became a vibrant shade of red, its scarlet hue depicting her embarrassment and shame at being scolded by the man she had a crush on. with a huff and a final flip of her hair, she walks away from him, hearing her high heeled shoes tap against the linoleum flooring of the school.

“hmph, i suppose you’re right, sung. that bitch isn’t worth getting expelled for.”

ara and cho follow from close behind her, yet you were the one that stopped jinwoo from following after them.

“it’s okay, just hearing her complaints was more than enough for me.” even if you didn’t like him (and no! you were not in denial!) you didn’t want him to do anything that would further jeopardize his education.

he was already under suspicion due to his shady past, disappearing for two years before returning unexpectedly-

despite how odd he was, you truly didn’t hate him enough to want to see him fail.

in the end, he relaxes his stance and looks down at you, eyes still glowing with that strange, purple hue. you swallow thickly, but did not look away from him, maintaining eye contact with jinwoo as you waited for his next words.

instead, he ends up shocking you when he places a hand against your cheek, caressing it softly while asking you, “are you alright?”

you give him a nod in response, all while trying to hide the heat from your cheeks. “yes, i’m fine.”

you shiver when he lets out a rich chuckle in response. “that’s good.”

looking away from him in hopes of calming down your rapidly beating heart, you ask him, “why did you come to my rescue?”

he remains silent for a few moments before gently giving your head a few pats.

“because i would hate to see a bruise blossoming on that pretty face of yours.”

his admission was enough to make you do a double take, looking up at him with wide eyes while catching his smile.

“do you have any club activities later today?”

your mouth was still dry, and because of this fact, you were afraid to speak. this was what prompted you to shake your head in response to his question, earning yet another smile from him.

“good. how about you keep me company and watch me do track on the bleachers?”

his question leaves you gaping in response, and jinwoo didn’t even bother waiting for your answer when the 5-minute bell rang, alerting you to the end of lunch as your classmates slowly filled the classroom once more. you wanted to call out to jinwoo and tell him how you had much better things to do than watch him running around in circles-

but his smile when he looks back at you while giving you a wave manages to make your heart flutter in response.

dammit to hell-

this boy had you wrapped around his fingers after all.

{ … }

the sun was slowly setting as you found yourself on the bleachers, watching jinwoo and his track team practice their endurance and speed for the next competition.

as you sipped at the bottle of water jinwoo had given you, you couldn’t deny that he was a beautiful runner.

he was graceful, while maintaining a good speed. he never once appeared to be out of breath, even when he was working up a sweat.

during his run, you notice the way the upperclassmen kept gesturing at you while talking to jinwoo. he gives the senior a smirk before telling him a few words, making them all smile at you in response.

you had a sneaking suspicion that they were talking about you, and the thought alone was enough to make you bristle in response. you were on edge when the track team finally finished their practice, with their coach commending them on their good work as he allowed them all to return home.

jinwoo makes his way back to you while extending his hand out to you. “water, please.”

you look down at your half empty bottle of water. “what- but… i already drank from this?”

“so?” jinwoo gives you a smirk before taking the bottle of water from your hand, uncapping it as he worked on drinking the rest of it. you were captivated by the movements of his lips, emptying the bottle with greedy gulps as you watch the droplets of water slide down his chin and onto his throat…

you immediately snap out of your reveries when jinwoo meets your gaze. as if sensing your thoughts, he tosses the empty water bottle into the bin with his smirk growing wider in response, “what are you looking at?”

“n-nothing!”

you ignore the heat felt against your cheeks and step out of the bleachers, feeling jinwoo place a steady hand against your waist and shoulder as he helped you back on the ground. he flashes you a wide grin before picking up his duffel bag.

“come on, i’ll take you home.”

he interlocks his fingertips together with yours, pulling you closer to him as he walked out of the school with you. by now, your heart was pounding within your chest, feeling deeply affected by his close proximity.

“jinwoo.”

you say his first name out loud, making jinwoo stiffen in response. feeling proud at being able to make him lose his cool, you proceed to ask him.

“what did you tell our seniors during practice? they kept looking at me, laughing while giving me winks each time they ran past me.”

you look up at jinwoo, seeing him scratch the tip of his nose as a light blush was settled against his cheeks. he remains silent for a few extra beats, as if carefully considering his words before confessing to you,

“i told them that you were my girlfriend.”

your brain seemed to short circuit in response to his answer, unable to fully comprehend what was going on as you sorted through your emotions.

you felt…

annoyed,

confused,

but perhaps above all else-

you felt happy.

“y-you, are you joking, sung jinwoo?”

your pout was evident when jinwoo looks back down at you, eyes glowing a faint purple once more before he leans down closer to your height.

“if you don’t believe me, how about i show you just how serious i am…?”

somehow understanding what he meant, you close your eyes in response, allowing jinwoo’s lips to perfectly slot against yours in a sweet kiss-

but little did you know, you were once jinwoo’s lover in another timeline; a timeline that he now spent years correcting as he made an oath to himself to bring you back to him, no matter what the cost may be.

a.n. - my jinwoo obsession will never stop, lmao, and i’m afraid i’m going to keep flooding everyone’s feed with stories of him 😭😭😭😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[feasibilities]

Mrs. Muckraker | Thomas Shelby x Author!Reader ✍︎

✍︎ Synopsis: Your controversial writings catch the attention of local kingpin, Thomas Shelby. ✍︎ Warnings: Hatefuck, Dub-Con, Spanking, Manhandling, Period-Typical Sexism, Blackmail, Manipulation, Veiled Threats, Slurs, Shame ✍︎ Author's Note: My first full-length fic of 2025. I'm trying to tackle darker themes. Enjoy!

Your tendentious writings are causing a stir in the literary world, especially in Birmingham. You tackled hot-button topics like corruption, misogyny, crime, sexuality and more. Against the advice of your publisher, you refused to use a pen name to protect your identity. This led to a myriad of angry letters from local priests, husbands with shaky marriages, and stuffy bureaucrats like Inspector Campbell. You had also caught the attention of the Thomas Shelby, the patriarch of the family and leader of the Peaky Blinders. 

Against your instincts, you decided to spend an evening at the Garrison. You were surprised to see it empty with the exception of a few drunkards. After ordering a glass of whiskey, you saw Thomas emerge from the meeting room with a stern expression. Harry wordlessly poured him a glass of gin while you rolled your eyes at his acquiescence. Taking note of your irritation, Thomas sat next to you. 

“The Virginia Woolf of Birmingham, eh?” He teased. 

“I’m surprised someone like you knows who she is.” You retorted, sipping your whiskey. 

“Do tell, who am I?” He asked with a pompous tone.

“A witless cunt.” You criticized. 

“Very creative, sweetheart.” He praised sarcastically. 

“I am not your fucking sweetheart.” You shot back. 

“I suppose so. I thought you would be sweeter.” He purred, touching your hand. You snatched it away. His chuckling angered you even more. 

“Fuck off. I’m taking this to go, Harry.” You declared, walking to the door with the glass. 

“Before you leave, I have a preposition for you.” He said. You continued out of the pub without another word. 

—

The next morning, you found refuge at a local tea room. Your peace was swiftly interrupted by the crook you met the night before. 

“Nice to see you again.” He spoke, lighting a cigarette and sitting at the table. 

“Is this the only tea room in town?” You huffed.

“I’m a regular here, dove.” He replied, smoke ghosting in front of his mouth. 

“Fucking any woman that comes through the door doesn’t make you a regular.” You sniped. 

“I’ll take that as the compliment it was meant to be. I have news for you.” He said. 

“What news?” You complained. 

“Shelby Company Limited is willing to publish your next novel at a far better percentage than your current publisher.” He declared, handing you a copy of your contract with Orchid Publishing. You felt ill at what he could’ve done to get such a private document. 

“I’m not interested in anything under the table. Your intimidation tactics won’t work on me.” You said, handing it back. 

“Of course. I’m confident that you’ll sort everything out once you’re dropped due to public outcry and a ‘firm recommendation’ from Inspector Campbell.” He revealed, tapping the ash of his cigarette. You were almost impressed by his business acumen but refused to compliment him. Thomas saw the wheels turning and decided to take advantage of the opportunity. 

“If you’d like to discuss this further, I’ll be hosting a dinner for the Shelby Foundation. I would hate to see talent like yours go to waste.” He stated, pulling a golden envelope from his suit pocket. He sat it on the table and stared at you intently. You kept eye contact with him as you took the envelope in your hands. 

“I’ll let you know of my decision at the dinner.” You said plainly, standing up. He gave an affirmative nod as he watched you leave. 

Thomas provoked your ire like no other. His need to dominate every industry that came through Birmingham was close to swallowing you whole. You feared that your writings would be diluted under the authority of Shelby Company Limited. The wrong decision could end your career as you know it.

Arriving at the foundation dinner, your dress earned concupiscent gazes from male attendees and glares from their wives. You hurriedly took a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter’s tray. Dread wore on your face as you pondered the inevitable. 

“You clean up well.” A gruff voice whispered behind you. You were ready to elbow the man in the face until you realized it was Thomas. He circled you like prey while admiring your beauty. 

“For me?” He said arrogantly. 

“No, the invitation said formal. Don’t be so proud of yourself.” You replied, sipping from the flute. 

“Sure.” He said, looking you up and down once more. You felt butterflies in your stomach. A longtime colleague of his stopping by seemed to embolden his peacocking. You became an awkward background character to their lively conversation until his colleague recognized you. 

“She’s the spinster keeping up trouble in Small Heath?” He realized. You finally came to as you heard the insult. 

“She is but she’ll be an ally of ours soon, eh?” He smiled, placing a patronizing hand on your shoulder. You snatched his hand away and smashed the half-full flute on the floor

“Stupid fucking Birmingham scum, the both of you! You’re nothing but a stupid gypsy bastard with nothing to speak for but the money you’ve taken out of our pockets!” You shouted, causing the party to go silent. Thomas retreated into an aggrieved, icy quiet as the humiliation soaked in. Exasperated, you tilted your head waiting for a response. The partygoers, including his colleague, grew nervous at what could happen next.

“I’ll have to excuse myself. Carry on everyone.” He announced, walking to his study. Whispers traveled like a virus through the attendees as they were stunned at his allowance of your vituperative attack. Soon after, the festivities resumed while you were smoked a cigarette outside. As much as you hated it, you worried that you might’ve bruised his ego this time. You were also worried that you signed your death warrant as he was the most feared man in town. Sneaking past nosy attendees, you found the door of his study. You knocked and waited for an answer.

“Come in.” He said. You came in and stood at his desk. Before you could speak, Thomas began reading a scathing excerpt from your latest novel. 

“The Peaky Blinders can be compared to a family of plague rats. Spreading disease, death, and degeneracy wherever they end up. Thomas is the captain of a sinking ship and has no qualms about leaving his crew behind if they grow lame or impotent.” He read the excerpt as if it was a bedtime story. 

“I came to apologize and-“ You started before being cut off once more. 

“Thomas seems to think he can fuck and drink his way into being elected MP. This region has truly gone to shit if he is ever elected.” He read another excerpt. This time, you stayed silent to avoid any interruptions. He removed his glasses and sat back in his chair. 

“You forgot to notify me of your decision.” He said with an eerily calm tone. 

“I haven’t made one yet. I just came to apologize.” You said, trying to gauge his anger. 

“For what? The gypsy bastard part or the degeneracy commentary?” He said, feigning confusion. 

“For all of it, I suppose.” You relented, feeling deep shame. 

“Oh, no. Don’t apologize for speaking the truth.” He pushed back, standing up and walking to you.

“What?” You asked. 

“I’m pleased to let you know that I’m everything you said I am. A gypsy bastard. A drunk. A pest. An enjoyer of women. Now, what is your decision?” He heralded.

“I..can’t work with you. I would forego my morals.” You rejected. 

“Why not? A man like me would be great print.” He implored, walking closer. With each step he took forward, you took a step back. 

“The answer is no. I apologize for the outburst and I won’t write of you again.” You concluded, reaching for the doorknob. Suddenly, you were slammed against the wall with a painful grip on your face.

“The truth is that you need someone like me. Someone to keep you in line.” He threatened, eyes boring into yours. Your attempts to escape were hopeless as he relished in your panic.

“Let me show you something.” He whispered, slipping his other hand in the top of your dress. His hand stalled at your chest. Your heart jackhammered against his warm palm. 

“Feel that?” He asked. You nodded as you pulled your dress off your shoulders and moved his hand to your breast. Finally, you two kissed with a burning hatred for each other. You two yanked away each other’s clothing with such disdain. You found yourself bent over the cool mahogany of Thomas’ desk. You lifted your head to insult him before your head was roughly pressed back down. 

“Be a dear and stay still.” He said with condescension.

“Fuck you.” You spat, trying your best to hide your lust. He groped the soft flesh of your ass before landing a series of harsh smacks. Each slap evoked a wanton mewl from you. He went back to massage the tender flesh to vex you even more.

“Let’s make this quick…” He huffed as he plunged inside of you. Your back arched and another lecherous noise left you at the sensation. Soon after, your body began to lurch forward with his merciless thrusts. Your hands searched for purchase on the hard surface. Noise barely escaped your open mouth as the air was expelled from your lungs. Restrained groans came from Thomas while bruises formed on your hips. The stress of pleasure in your abdomen finally broke like an overextended rubber band. He watched as your body violently convulsed with rapture. When you finally came to, he kissed the back of your head. 

“You should get dressed.” He said coldly, slipping on his dress shirt. With shaky legs, you haphazardly dressed yourself. His lack of affection stung but you understood that it was his intention. 

“Hey, sign this before you go.” He said, handing you a pen and pointing to the empty line on the contract. 

[stqrlverr]

TRADITION SAYS

k. nanami x fem! reader // w.c 580 // g.mlist

a/n: reblogs and hearts appreciated

“It’s bad luck to see me before the wedding.” She softly mused.

The man in question remained remorseless.

His soul, nestled with tradition, which would have typically reeled back in disbelief, succumbed to his unusual impatience by pardoning his decision to dishonour decade-old customs.

His heart was soon to be legally roped by an endless scripture inscribed with not only his consent to this union - but with cursive letters strung to formulate paragraphs brimmed with gratification for the day he was to home a diamond atop her fourth finger - which was finally today.

As her palms manoeuvred south, soothing over the chapels of his exquisite suit of identical textiles, his organ restrained beneath the ensemble of his wedding attire, gently thrummed, reciprocal of her touch as her dainty hands rested a few centimetres above his pectorals

“I’m aware, love,” he expressed lowly, hazel eyes strewn from a melodic harp’s chords studying the orbs, still somewhat surprised he had wandered away from his station, which was to be at the end of the alter, awaiting her presence.

Nanami’s own hand placement remained stitched to her hip, savouring the blanche satin tailored to snuggly sculpt her heavenly silhouette and the stark contrast of the silky fabric enticing the calloused landscape of a working man.

Shame almost derided him and the slight discomfort stirring in his lower half as in a couple of hours; he anticipated the lustrous cloth of white balled within his grasp: the semblance to chaste caressing his thick digits, which had not remained as such, a divine envision.

The opulent fabric was a mere distraction by cloaking practice vows his ardent mouth had smooched against her body during their sexual rendezvouses during their time as boyfriend and girlfriend. Every amorous advancement was instead a bout of devotion he murmured against her soft flesh that permeated beneath her skeletal protection, garnering a shudder, a delicate moan, or both.

As y/n subconsciously nabbed at the navy handkerchief peeking out his breast pocket, she chuckled to herself, visualising Nanami plucking the neatly folded material from its suffocating confines to dab dry the prick of a stream nourishing his waterline whilst witnessing her poised figure leisurely unite with his embrace, the bop of his Adam’s apple a hefty gulp of finality she was to be his under legal pretences, a long-awaited moment and insinuation no man beside himself could sincerely or even attempt to state she was theirs. 

Alternatively, Nanami took note of the minuscule embellishments of priceless pearls adorning her customised gown, a semi-extensive width of fragile tulle delicately draped atop her head partnered to complete her wedding look.

He reached behind her head, stepping back once acquiring the matrimonial headpiece whilst she and the time glaring behind them, which had been ushering them to respect both their time allocated slot for this venue and their guests’ effort of reaching here on time, both paused.

The clock’s arms softened, hesitating by a mere second to witness the intimate ceremony between themselves before being observed by a swarm of onlookers.

Her vision became obscured by ivory netting, mascara-coated lashes tickling against the diaphanous veil that now vaguely concealed her beguiling portrait.

In return, she lifted her gaze onto the man she would meet once more in a few minutes to officiate their companionship.

“But forgive me, dear,” Nanami spoke, seeking remission, although his expression of adoration illustrated he didn’t quite care whether his repentance was acknowledged. “I just couldn’t help myself.”.

© stqrlverr all rights are reserved. do NOT repost or copy my work

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Six

PROSTITUTION / SEX WORK / MIRROR SEX (@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction)

Starring: Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: The boys never take you like I want you, that’s what Jake said and now he’s going to make sure this memory is one you’ll both remember.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, pet name, dom!Jake Lockley, hair pulling, public sex, rough sex, P in V, unprotected sex (protection in real life, please, thank you), praise (if you squint), cream pie

Word Count: 2.5k

You don’t know when the change happened.

In the morning, you were talking to an incredibly sleepy Steven who was reminiscing about the dream he’d had last night that featured you in a starring, also heroic, role. It took the pair of you a while to get yourselves out of bed and you had a leisurely start, making it from the bed to the sofa of his attic apartment.

He insisted he needed to go in the shower before Marc exited and returned to you.

Apparently, he had made plans for the evening, booked a fancy restaurant that he knew you’d love. He watched you as you got ready, teasing you with the gentlest of touches and kisses with the softest lips. Your boys would talk to each other, mostly Marc proclaiming that Steven would have his turn later.

You giggled when their argument turned heated and Marc saw it fit to cover the mirror you stood in front of.

He rolled his eyes, only hearing Steven still running his mouth.

Turning on your heels, you place a palm on Marc’s chest, smiling sweetly.

“Tell him, I’ll make it up to him.”

“I’m gonna hold her to that!”

Marc sighs, “Don’t worry, he knows.”

The restaurant he took you to was nestled on one of the city’s hidden alleyways, the underground location made to cosy and intimate but the place was vast. You followed the waiter to plush booth dressed in rich red velvet, a tiny lamp in the centre of the table being your main source of light.

Dinner couldn’t have gone any better.

You excused yourself once you’d ordered dessert.

The journey to the toilet was a tricky one, you were pointed to doorway and told which directions to turn. It was almost a labyrinth, each wall appearing the same until you came to a corridor filled with doors.

You sighed with relief when you sat on the porcelain throne of the closest available stall.

When you were washing your hands, your peace was interrupted by someone knocking heavily on the door. You were surprised that someone was looking for a free stall, there seemed to be plenty if they’d only continue walking.

“Just a second, I’m just washing my hands,” you called.

As you reached for the paper towels, there came another series of knocks. You swear no one has the fucking patience in London. Stretching to unlock the door, you prepare a scowl on your face as you drop the handle.

The next few seconds is a blur.

Marc shoves the door open swiftly, crowding your frame with his as he forces you back until your ass is resting on the sill next to the sink.

“Marc, what the fuck?”

The door slams shut and you hear the lock click, he’s turned away from you.

“I’m not Marc.”

He wasn’t, his accent was different, his voice more gravelly.

“Well, it’s definitely not Steven.”

He chuckles, “You know your boys so well, kitten.”

A shiver shot up your spine as he turned round.

They always had identical features. The same dark curls, same softly tanned skin, same notch in the tip of his nose. You had learnt early on in your relationship to look at the mannerisms but these were like none you’d seen before.

He stepped towards you, looming over you as you try to somehow move away from him in this confined space. He stands tall, shoulder back with his chest puffed out yet his head hangs low, heavy lids hiding the spark in his eyes as if he’s lacking a soul.

“How well do they know you?”

“Barely.”

There had been instances in the past where both Marc and Steven said they couldn’t remember shit. You had told them about strolling into the apartment late at night, waking up to find them asleep in the armchair or when you’d jumped awake at the sudden sensation at your ankle, only to find them perched at the end of the bed.

But still, nothing.

“And what about me?”

His stern expression contorts into a crooked, wicked smile.

“Oh, I know how they feel about you. How Steven gets butterflies when you smile at him, how Marc’s heart skips a beat when you hold his hand, how hard they both get when they picture you in that dress…”

Your hands squeeze onto the lip of the shelf as his eyes flit over your body.

“But they never quite fuck you the way I’d like.”

You swallow nervously as he brings his body centimetres from yours, your doe eyes are reflected in his black irises.

His fingertips skim your hip, trailing up your waist, making your body quiver.

Part of you knows you should be scared, that maybe you should be screaming the place down to get someone to save you. Against him? They probably wouldn’t survive anyway. However your body didn’t react through fear, you were actually finding this intimidating figure in front of you a turn on.

His presence so much darker than Steven’s, even Marc’s.

His other hand comes to your face, featherlight on your chin before he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. You release the breath you didn’t realise you held, the exhale shaky as he brings his lips to yours.

Your body goes rigid when he kisses you.

“I won’t hurt you, kitten,” he says after he removes his lips, “I promise.”

His calmness finally managed to take over the fever that ran through his veins, he smooths a warm palm over your cheek. He watches how your lips part forming the smallest gap between them, it’s like you’re about to say something yet you can’t utter a word.

You feel yourself deepening into his touch, the warmth of his hand.

In the confined space, your senses were heightened, the finest details coming through. His steady pulse, the low monotones of his voice, how the orange glow of the light made his skin look golden however he was shrouded with a darkness that pulled you in.

Your eyelashes flutter shut and your weight shifts forward.

Your lips meet again and you press swiftly before going back for more. As you push, he pushes harder, nudging his chin to coax you to allow him access. When you open your mouth, his tongue slips through effortlessly, hungrily searching for yours.

He knows what you can do, he’s watched how you submit with the others and now, he wants that too.

His hand lets go of your cheek, cupping the back of your head as he forces you into him more. He hugs you with his other arm around your waist and you sigh, hands dropping from the sink.

Cautiously, your hands reach for his arms like he was going to snap and break them off.

Underneath you know there’s Steven and Marc, you know how they like to be touched and they have more similarities than they’d admit. You trail your palms up and over his shoulders, the friction tugging gently at the shirt he wore. Digging your nails into his back, the purr rumbles through his chest.

Unlike your boys, he doesn’t melt.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip, the smallest twinge as he sinks them further.

“Unfortunately for you, that don’t work on me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

In quick movements, you find yourself being spun round, the bones of your hips bumping sharply to the edge. You grunt meekly, your face scrunching as his fingers bury into your hair.

His breath flows down the crook of your neck before he brings his lips to the skin.

Opening your eyes, you catch the reflection in the mirror. He watches you behind heavy lids, gauging your reaction as he pulls, changing the angle of your head. The tingle travels through your body, settling low, your pussy twitching as your juices pool in your underwear.

His other hand lifts the hem of your dress, his palm spreading over your one ass cheek.

You try to fight the pleasure running through your veins but you can’t help pushing your weight onto him, unable to catch the desperate mewl from escaping when you feel his stiff length contained within his trousers.

He chuckles, “Can’t help yourself, can you?”

You shake your head yet it barely moves under his hold.

His hand moves across and you anticipate a slap that never comes, maybe that’s only something Marc likes. You wriggle to chase the pleasure you seek though he’s choosing to be difficult, predicting every move before you make it.

You whine as his fingers wrap tightly around your underwear and he yanks them, bearing your warm cunt to the cool air of the tiled space.

He leans back, seeing how it still manages to glisten in the dim lighting. He was planning on playing with you, teasing you until you reached the edge however like this, he could just push through your slick walls without any friction.

You watch his hand come behind you, hear the metallic jostle as he gets his belt undone, the sound of his zipper going down.

His grip on your hair loosens, his fingers falling down your spine and your back arches to his touch. The valley of your ass meets his hardened cock and as you follow the outline, you both groan.

He slams his hips into you, flinging you forward just enough for him to whip himself from his briefs.

When you return to him, he keeps you steady and slaps your ass a few times with his tip, precum decorating your skin. You glance over your shoulder, teeth grazing your lip as you wait for him to meet your eye.

He does.

“Eyes in front.”

“Yes, sir,” you say softly, doing as you’re told.

He shoves you back heavily and you gasp as his cock encroaches your entrance, the smirk rising on his face. It’s the way he looks at you that tells you, you’re in danger and you strengthen your grip on the lip of the sink.

There’s no warning as he fills you to the hilt.

He takes the air from your lungs, your mouth falling open without a sound. Your legs quiver as he cradles under your stomach, as if he knows how deep he buried himself into you. He gives you another second before he slowly drags his way out.

“Oh fuuuck.”

Your voice raises and a hand snaps around your mouth, he doesn’t want anyone to hear you quite yet.

He shushes you as he thrusts into you again, your squeal muffled by his broad palm, his other hand gently easing into your back to position you in a perfect curve. Holding you steady, he frees your mouth, you barely catch your breath before he starts to plough into you full force.

All you can do is take it and let him consume all you.

His eyes drill into your reflection bringing the heat to your skin, the sweat arriving onto your chest. The clamminess in your hands makes you lose your grasp on the sink, your heels slipping on tiles with every brutal impact.

His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hip to keep you upright.

This is what he’s always wanted.

The other two always fucked you wrong. Steven was always soft and gentle, some may even say sensual whilst Marc, though he had more dominating tendencies, never went hard enough. And there he was, hidden away somewhere the pair of them couldn’t find, waiting to pounce at any given moment.

Except because he’d held back for so long, he chose to go hard and fast before he exploded.

“Please, I can’t,” you choke, the words struggling to come through.

He had been pummelling the same spot over and over and you weren’t quite sure whether you should be seeing white spots in your vision. You couldn’t bare to keep looking, squeezing your eyes shut as you drop your head.

His hips grind to a halt, his cock staying snug in your walls.

Unleashing your hips, his hands wrap around your neck before using his strength to lift your head up. Your throat bobs under his digits and he gives you a minute to open your eyes, the mirrored image of them glossy.

You groan as he nudges you with his tip, bringing himself forward so he could plant a kiss on your shoulder.

“You’re taking me so well, kitten.”

He rolled his hips, steadily picking up the pace again.

With each hit came a sweet grunt, your body rippling from the collision, the straps on your dress slipping to reveal your matching bra. He couldn’t take his eyes off your reflection, he had to make sure this was ingrained in his memory, for all the future times he had to sit and watch.

The room was getting smaller, the heat between you rising though he hadn’t broken a sweat.

Every part of you started to burn, the tingle travelling up your spine. You raise your hands, helplessly clawing at his until suddenly you became limp, your muscles vibrating uncontrollably.

He held strong, your toes the only remaining part of you on the floor.

“Not much longer,” he said through gritted teeth.

You couldn’t hear him as your head went fuzzy, vision blurring as you went crosseyed yet he had never seen such a beautiful sight.

His hips started to stutter as your walls clung onto the feeling of him, the suction pulling him back before his balls receded. He ensured his last thrust was strong, one that rooted within your pussy, filling you with his load.

He growled, roaring as he pulled himself out of you swiftly, droplets of cum falling down your legs and to the floor.

You gasped like you came back to life, falling back to earth from your sexual ecstasy. As his hands loosen, you drop to towards the sink and save yourself on your elbows. Your chest heaves as you try to get oxygen into your lungs, legs trembling as you struggle to stand.

The energy settled between you.

His hand coming to your back made you flinch, the expectation different to the reality. He stroked softly, soothing you, before pulling up your strap.

“We should go,” his voice was still gruff.

You managed to lift your head to see what a mess you were. He was polite enough to pass you some tissue to sort out your appearance but you had questions.

“What about dessert?”

He scoffs, “I cancelled it.”

He sees how you pout in the mirror, eyes narrowing.

“Did you even pay for dinner?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, to what you were both doing.

You spread your palms over your dress, bend at the hip to fix your shoes. Snatching your handbag, you rummage for your lipstick before leaning into your reflection.

He continues to watch you, you hadn’t even asked for your underwear, not that he was complaining. His brow arched when you turned round, the lid of your lipstick clicking before you matched his stance.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for you to tell me your name,” you cock your head to the side.

He tuts.

“You just railed me in a public toilet and filled me with your cum and you expect me to walk out of here with you.”

His chest expands as you step closer.

“It’s Jake.”

“Nice to meet you, Jake, you owe me dessert.”

[alexthebordercollie]

Lazy Monday Morning

This is a Good Ending D and H fic. Some lovely HusbanDs fluff.

Domesticated Ford belongs to @jellyskink

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There it was again. Another string of sharp, blaring, beeps. D had to get the most obnoxious alarm clock he could find. He was a very heavy sleeper and the bed was cripplingly comfortable. Warm, soft, always filled with good company. D wasn't sure anyone would ever understand just how intensely he appreciated a good bed.

Except for one man possibly.

"Five more minutes…" A husky voice grumbled. Spindly arms coiled around D's waist. A familiar face pressed into his breast.

"I already hit snooze twice," D groaned. He shut off the alarm and reach up to rub at his identical face.

"Hit it again," the other voice whined.

"I can't H, I have work," D whined playfully back. He cracked a bleary eye open to look down at the man who'd coiled around him like some beautiful, invasive, ivy.

H had tucked himself into the crook of D's shoulder. His face buried in his chest. D combed his fingers affectionately through his partner's thinning grey hair. He took great care to help him keep it strong and healthy. H felt so delicate in D's arms now, it was misleading though. He knew full well the strength of will still contained in that frail frame. He knew he was about to have to wrestle with that will if he ever hoped to escape.

"I'm going to be late for class," D warned gently.

H groaned and snuggled into him further. Worming his face into D's belly and tickling him with his fussing. "No school today, you're in charge, just take the day off."

D couldn't help but laugh. Shaking up his dearest companion with his rumbling. "And when has that reasoning ever worked on you?!" he huffed between hearty cackles.

H lifted his head to narrow his one eye back at D with an irritable pout. Puffing up his cheeks indignantly. "If I don't get to work today you shouldn't either."

D sat up in bed and leaned forward to kiss his friend's forehead. Holding his cheek in his hand. "I'm not the one on bedrest today," he chided softly.

H only protested further and flopped dead weight across D's lap. "Betrayal!" he lamented melodramatically. "Where's the solidarity?!"

D chuckled and sighed. Petting H sympathetically before slowly wriggling out from under him to the edge of the bed. He reached a hand out to turn on the lamp on the head board and in his fumbling knocked both their glasses down into the crack between the mattress and the frame.

"Oh," D exclaimed. Oh well, he'd get them in a minute.

H rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes. Further tangling himself in the blankets and he draped sideways over the edge of the bed.

"My precious kitten, abandoning me in my time of need-"

"You'll be fine," D replied patiently as he pulled himself up to his feet. Grunting from the ache in his joints. He'd gotten better with a good deal of effort and H's help, but the joint pain was still a daily struggle. Stanley's joints bothered him too, though not near as bad. That was an odd kind of reassurance. Knowing part of it was just the natural process of getting old took some of the shame off the pain.

D shed his pajamas onto the floor. He should probably have made an effort to get them to the hamper, but that was all the way on the other side of the room. Well, the other end of the bed. Ok, three feet away. But he was tired and it was so early, and he was in a bit of a hurry. He could pick up the laundry later. He'd probably remember. Ok so Jean-Paul would get it, but that was almost as good.

H rolled back onto his belly and hung over the edge of the bed as he watched D pull on his slacks. D couldn't help looking back at him, feeling the man's eye combing over his body.

D cleared his throat. "Can I help you?" he teased.

"Just enjoying the view." H hummed.

D couldn't help but laugh again as he fastened his belt. "Whatever you say. I've learned not to trust your tastes."

"Oh like you would know good taste," H dismissed. Waving off his comment. He reached past D and pulled open one of the dresser drawers to tug out a light purple sweater off the top of the stack.

"Chilly?" D asked. H had problems with his blood pressure. D had learned to look out for any sign of chill as it could indicate a crash.

"The bed get's cold without you," H reasoned as he lazily hoisted himself up just enough to pull the turtleneck over his pajamas.

D smiled again. "So you're stealing one of my sweaters? You have your own clothes in the bottom drawer you know."

"I know," H conceded easily. Flopping back down against the pillows and pulling the blankets up to his shoulders. "But your sweaters are warmer. It's a proven fact," he explained.

D pulled out a pair of socks and sat down on the edge of the bed to put them on. "Is that so? How intriguing. I'd love to see the data on it. I'm sure you've done quite vigorous research into the matter."

H grinned, deeply pleased with D's teasing. D liked to think he'd gotten good at it. He'd lost the ability for so long, but good banter made his companion smile and that was enough incentive to move mountains. H had such a warm wonderful smile.

H rolled over onto his side to look at D, bundled up in the blankets. D's sweater hung on his lean frame and formed little ripples in the fabric. "I wouldn't need your anomalous sweaters if you'd just stay and waste the day away in bed with me."

D pulled one leg over his knee and leaned back to prop himself up on his arm. "See, I could do that, but I did promise the children we'd be playing with explosives in class today. They've been really looking forward to it," it was a fun science experiment, safer than it sounded. "I could take the day off, but then you'd have to explain to your daughter why the project she and her friends have been eagerly awaiting had to be postponed."

H narrowed his brow at D. "Using my own spawn against me, you're diabolical," he taunted, though even he couldn't keep a straight face.

D laughed and leaned in to reach past him. Feeling around between the mattress and the bedframe. "Gee, I wonder where I learned that," he taunted back.

"Touché mon amour~" H conceded affectionately. He pulled D in when he looked past him, into the crack that had stolen their glasses, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

D's fingers finally found the glasses. He fished them out and placed a pair on H's face. Didn't really matter which one, the style and prescription were the same.

H smiled wider as D's face came into sharper focus. D put his own glasses on to drink in that smile in high definition. The way H looked at him… The love in this man's eye never ceased to amaze.

"You're very sweet," D praised.

"Only you think that Kitten," H chuckled.

D held the back of H's head and kissed his forehead. "Well, just this once, I feel confident in saying I know best," he asserted.

H sighed and pressed his cheek into D's arm.

"I have to go now," D reminded him.

H groaned irritably and fell back into the pillows. "Uhg, you're still on that?"

"Yes!" D laughed. "I still have work."

D reached into his drawers for a shirt and H peered back at him out of the corner of his eye. "Undershirt first," H hen pecked.

"Right, right, I've got it," D huffed, returning to his undergarment drawer for a white t-shirt. "I was getting to it." He wasn't, he would have forgotten had H not reminded him.

H hummed smugly to himself and snuggled deeper into the bedding. "Oh what ever would you do without me?"

D rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Oh yes, what ever would I do without you."

[shadowmaat]

Shatterpoint Shuffle, pt. 2

Here's more of the Padawan Mace & Initiate Kenobi AU. Part 1 can be read here. Credit for the original idea once again goes to @bitter-chocolate-stars and @krazykupidspoems.

-

Padawan Mace Windu did not stomp down the corridors; he had far too much control for that. It wasn't that he was mad about his test score, no matter what others might say. His issue was with the fact that Master Radorm refused to accept two of the sources on his paper the Last Battle of Ruusan even though the Master of the Archives herself had found and approved them.

A small, muffled sob broke his concentration. He stopped, head canted as he listened. There were several sniffles, the quality giving the impression of a small, enclosed space.

"I don't care! I don't wanna see him!"

The voice was high-pitched but came out in a hiss, as if the speaker didn't want to be heard.

Expecting to see a pair of younger Padawans, perhaps, Mace stepped around the corner and regarded the empty hallway. There was an access panel of some kind near the floor, looking slightly off-kilter.

"Hello?" He took a step closer. "Does someone need help?"

Silence, broken by the sound of hitched breathing and smothered snuffles. Could two younglings even fit in that vent, or had one of them abandoned the other?

He considered his options, but really, what choice was there? Someone- and they had to be small, judging by the side of the panel- was hurting. Misery, shame, anger, and resentment hung thick in the air.

He'd be late to his next class, but that was fine. He sat, leaning back against the wall next to the panel.

"Perhaps I'll just stop here to meditate," he announced.

He closed his eyes, centering himself before stretching his senses in the Force. It twisted around him, spinning him in circles.

He clapped a hand over his mouth and reached into his pouch for one of the anti-nausea pills he always kept with him.

As it dissolved under his tongue, he took deep breaths, waiting for his stomach to settle. At least now he knew the likely identity of the person hiding in the vents.

He'd crossed paths with the human Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi several times over the past few years. Part of that, he was sure, was due to his Master's machinations, but sometimes, like now, it happened more… organically.

Obi-Wan was still an absolute mess of shatterpoints, but he'd come to terms with the fact that it wasn't the boy's fault, it was simply how he was. As unsettling as he could be to look at directly (and even worse in the Force), he still shone with a clear warmth to Mace's senses. A warmth that had dimmed since their last encounter.

"It's strange that this hall isn't as bright as it should be," he said. "Almost as if there was someone very sad nearby."

The vent huffed.

"If only I had some way of finding who it was, I might be able to help. It is, after all, one of the duties of a Jedi to help those in need."

Another huff.

"I know what you're doing," Obi-Wan said.

The vent cover rattled and Mace helped set it aside and extracted a dusty, disheveled Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His eyes were red and tear tracks cut through the dirt on his face.

"I don't need your help," he continued with a sniff. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his Initiate tunic, smearing more dirt. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your day, Gen- Padawan Windu."

Prickly. Very prickly.

"It's a welcome interruption, if I'm honest," Mace said. "What about you? What brings you to this conveniently broken vent at this time of day?"

"It was already like that!" Obi-Wan snapped. His glare turned to one side and he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I just needed to get away from people for a while."

He shifted, turning his back on whatever was in the hall that Mace couldn't see.

"I understand," he said. "People can be overwhelming even at the best of times, and when the Force has blessed you with a particular gift it can be even harder."

Obi-Wan gave him a narrow-eyed look. "A gift?"

"Sometimes gifts can feel like a burden," Mace said, rubbing his thumb against the base of his wrist. "Like psychometry. Or shatterpoints. Or whatever ability it is that you are developing."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Or maybe I'm just crazy, like Bruck 'n them keep saying."

Shock, followed by an all-consuming rage that threatened to swallow him. Mace closed his eyes and breathed deep, acknowledging the anger while recognizing that it wasn't helpful in his current situation. Calmness replaced the rage, but it was the calm of purpose. Banking the fire, as his Master called it.

"No," he said, looking Obi-Wan in the eye. "You are not crazy. The Masters may not have found a reference for your ability yet, but it's clear the Force has gifted you with an important tool. You may not have learned how to use it yet, but-"

"Gossip seems like a stupid tool," Obi-Wan said, glaring at a point past Mace's shoulder.

"Gossip?" He resisted the urge to glance back. "Gossip can provide a lot of unexpected information. Spies in particular covet it."

"Whatever." Obi-Wan shrugged and began trying to straighten his hair and clothes. "Not like I'll ever get to use it anyway. Everyone says I'm too angry to be a real Jedi."

Mace's eyebrows shot up. "Everyone?"

Obi-Wan stood, shaking out the wrinkles in his tunic. "Master Tlah, my teachers, the training Masters, Bruck."

Mace joined him in standing, banking another wave of anger.

"If anger disqualified you from becoming a Jedi, I wouldn't be here right now," he said.

"What?" Obi-Wan stared at him, wide-eyed. "You? But you're perfect!"

It startled a laugh out of him.

"Please be sure to tell my Master that. She'll be very surprised." Waving off Obi-Wan's attempted defense of him, he continued. "No, but I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with having negative emotions, it's even healthy to experience them."

He checked over the Initiate, smoothing down a tuft of hair and unkinking the hood of his robe. The shatterpoints seem to have stilled. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"What's important is how you handle those emotions. Has anyone shown you how to channel your anger into something more productive?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, and Mace began to mentally compose a letter to the Master of the Crèches for their lack of oversight into the management and teaching of the Clans.

"Well, then. How would you feel about some private lessons from a lowly Padawan Learner about how to use your anger for good rather than letting it control you?"

"What, really?"

"Really."

The Force didn't express emotions, but if it did, he was sure it would be laughing at him. Cyslin would definitely laugh when he told her about it later. She could tease him as much as she liked, but this was less about picking a future Padawan and more about giving a struggling child the tools he should have already been given to help him.

"Yes! Thank you, Padawan Windu!"

Mace watched, distracted, as some of the shatterpoints around Obi-Wan actually healed. He'd never seen that before.

Then Obi-Wan grabbed his fingers to walk with him, and for half a heartbeat he thought he saw figures in the hallway with him, gone before he could fully register their presence. A possible future, an echo of a different present, or just a sign he needed more sleep? Whatever, as Obi-Wan liked to say. Best to focus on the now and leave the rest to be Future Mace's problem. He gave the boy's hand a companionable squeeze and set off for their first lesson.