#belongs in oatmeal

[ctrlurjoy]

oatmeal without peanut butter is like life without smiles

[moonythejedi394]

halp me

[cicidraws]

all these recalls make it so hard to trust anything

[oatmealdaydreams]

thoughts on mushrooms?

Fuckin love mushrooms. They're so pretty with all of their varieties!!

Like Amethyst Deceiver mushrooms? The ever-classic Fly Agaric mushrooms? Mycena Interrupta mushrooms??

So yeah, love mushrooms :D

[buglordsupreme]

Gale is husbandcoded. Think about it.

You have the rest of the companions who are hot and you can see yourself fucking and having intense relationships with; and then theres Gale who is the guy you sit down at dinner with to talk about how the tax returns this year werent as high as expected, or how you need to buy more fabric softener.

Like you cant imagine going grocery shopping with Astarion. But with Gale? Its like he belongs in the cereal aisle choosing the most organic brand of breakfast oatmeal.

[amaranthineghost]

ahh!! i think i speak on behalf of a lot of people when i say i need a part two, because that was so amazing and so beautifully written 🫶🏻🫶🏻

| I CAN'T NOT HAVE YOU, I'LL TRAVEL THE SOLAR SYSTEM TO MEND OUR STARS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairings: lando x reader

ꕥ parts: 1

ꕥ tagging: @gulphulp

ꕥ summary: they hadn't seen each other in months after their breakup, which left them in more misery than they thought. because now they'll do anything to make it work.

ꕥ authors note: I've been planning this in my head while writing the first part to this and i really like how this came out! going to work on christmas imagines and also finish up a request that I've been meaning to write!

ꕥ warnings: smut (at the end if you don't want to read that part), heavy angst (wanted to break some hearts), mentions of alcohol abuse and heavy drinking, mentions of eating struggles. not proofread the end.

IT'D BEEN MONTHS. months since he last abandoned her in their old apartment. since he drove off in his mclaren, punched the rearview mirror because he couldn't take it. to this day, he regretted it with every fiber of his being. he tried to convince himself for days on end, it was for the better. but was it really?

he was struggling. he couldn't sleep properly, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling beside him in the bed for another warm body, breaking his heart more every time he reminded himself that she wasn't here. it was cold.

it was cold despite the blistering summer heat of monaco, windows open to let in the heat. max swore at him every time because despite being rich, he was letting out cool air. but lando couldn't stand the cold. without her, his heart was frigid.

it worsened as the months grew colder and races passed him by. he was peforming fine, for now, but he'd reach his limit soon enough.

he hated when the air got bitterly frozen because this year, he wouldn't have her. he wouldn't have the heat that radiated off her to keep him warm.

he'd waste himself away with alcohol to forget the memory of leaving her. it turned his stomach in knots everytime to think of her watching him leave because they didn't know what to do to fix them. he wish he knew, he should've.

more often than not, he'd spent his nights on bathroom floors of the club, puking his guts out into the toilet, or sitting on the kitchen floor belonging his temporary roommate, max fewtrell. he sat against the tiled floor and wooden cabinets with a half-emptied bottle in his hands, tears on his face.

he'd sit there for hours, wasting away with every sip burning at his throat. he hated alcohol, but it was the only way to cope because he didn't want to remember any moment without her.

when he was nearly passed out on the floor, max would drag him up by his arms, forcing more than a few glasses of water down his throat. he'd grown familiar with his friend's new sulking.

max threw him on the guest room bed he didn't bother to make because he was miserable. he made it everyone's problem then. he'd leave his passed out friend a concoction of medicines to help with the hangover, he'd gotten used to this routine for the past couple of months.

when lando would stumble his way down the stairs, hands wrapped in his curls with a splitting pain through his head and a grimace on his face, all max would comment is "well, aren't you a pitiful sod."

lando rolled his eyes, groaning at the pain as he did so, sitting on a chair at the table across from his best friend, cringing at the resemblance of dinners with his girl—who wasn't even his anymore.

"jesus, mate, maybe you do need an intervention." he'd push his bowl of oatmeal towards lando, watching the expression on his face closely.

"I'm fine."

"clearly not," max scoffed, "mate, it's great havin' you here, but y'need to sober up."

"I will."

"you've said that last month, and the month before that, and the month before that." he shook his head, "I don't even get why you guys broke up."

lando groaned, rubbing his fingertips to his temple and chugging the water before he spoke, "it wasn't working out, 'ts for the best."

"for the best? are you kidding me?" he scoffed his friend's words, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

to max, breaking up was for the worst. he could tell lando was in misery, and he'd guess she was the same, maybe worse. maybe he didn't know much, but he knew enough to know that they were meant for each other.

"I'm not kidding," he muttered, pushing the oatmeal around the bowl, his spoon clinking against the sides, "besides, we tried to fix it, 'n it didn't work."

he paused, "fix it 'ow?"

lando rolled his eyes, feeling the consequences of his actions through his head, mumbling under his breath, "we went out to eat."

"you're jokin' me?" he leaned forward, a look of disbelief and disappointment on his face, "you went out to eat? how's that goin' to solve anything?"

lando shrugged again, refusing to look max in the eye as he pushed the mush around in his bowl, picking out the bits of fruit throughout.

"you're a real geezer, y'know that?" he sighed deeply, leaning back into the stool as he sat looking at his idiotic friend, "it was a perfectly salvageable relationship, mate, and you just threw it away." he shook his head, his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned his head on one hand.

"you gonn' call me a muppet next?" he aggressively bit into the small strawberry.

"might as well because you're acting like one. now why did you break up with her?"

"she broke up with me." he quietly corrected him, though it didn't seem to shed light on the fact that they didn't try as much as they thought they did.

"then fight for your relationship!" max exclaimed, throwing his hands up in response, "did you ever talk about what was wrong?"

"we didn' have time to," lando admitted, "and we didn't know what to do." he pushed aside the bowl, having barely touched the food residing in it. it's gone cold now, just like him.

"make the time!" he suggested, jabbing his finger into the counter to make a point, "when was the last time you were alone together?"

"when we had dinner together."

max groaned, shoving his face into his hands, rubbing his closed eyes on his palms. lando was starting to give him a headache, "when was the last time you were alone together, no people, no cameras, no fans, just you and her doing something?"

"i 'ont know."

"jesus, man." his voice muffled into his skin as his face remained in his palms because of the idiocracy of his friend.

"well, what do you suggest i do then, max?" lando's tone got seemingly more aggressive and annoyed, the volume of his voice raising slightly.

"actually spend time with her! take her on holiday!" he suggested, matching energies.

"mate, I can't just ask her after months of not speakin'," lando's stool pushed against the floor as he stood up, he was agrivated. he harshly grabbed the bowl with the cold food and shoved it in the sink.

max turned in his seat, "right, so just give up and go back to drinkin' then?"

lando ignored the comment, it infuriated him because max was right. if he didn't find the solution to his problem, he probably would go back to getting blackout drunk. all in hopes that'd help forget his misery

he leaned against the sink with his arms, his head hung between his inner biceps with his eyes closed, taking deep breaths before asking, "how should I ask her then?"

"you truly are a muppet."

"christ, just help m'out here!" lando pleaded because he couldn't take it anymore. he'd been losing himself to however many bottles of alcohol that'd stacked in the bin and the amount of over-the-counter drugs he'd force down his burned throat. all to forget what seemed like an impossible fix, but all he needed was another person. just because they didn't know what to do doesn't mean others wouldn't.

and of course max would help. he just had to give lando a hard time for screwing up so badly because he would've never expected him to show up at his front door midday, stumbling drunk and muttering slurred phrases about her.

his first thought when he saw his disoriented friend was to wonder if something had happened, the obvious answer being, obviously. because lando barely drank. max knew how much he couldn't stand the taste and chasing burn so it wasn't often you'd catch him drunk, much less to this extent.

he knew it had to involve his girlfriend by the here-and-there words he could decipher from the rest, but he couldn't expect to get the full story from the utter nonsense his friend spewed.

it wasn't till morning max discovered the extent of lando's stupidity.

" 'ts your relationship," max sighed, "and you realize she might not be so accepting to see you."

it hurt to think about. he didn't know what was worse, for her to be in such misery like himself or for her to not want him back. his stomach tied itself in knots to even think about, but he was the one who left her in the first place.

"yeah, I know."

he was lost without her. everything seemed so meaningless without her by his side, though she hadn't been for months, even when they were together. but the idea of her presence somewhere in his vicinity was all he needed.

she was like a drug he tried so hard to quit because it seemed to be getting him no where. but he was addicted. all he thought about when he wasn't drunk was her. every single dollar wasted on booze was drank to forget her. the lack of her in his life.

so when he showed up at her doorstep, it was more than just a shock. she'd opened the door, the last thing she expected was to see him, standing with an expression that seemingly matched hers. the smell of booze wafting from his clothes and the bittersweet smell of his cologne she had long forgotten about. smelling it again brought back everything she tried to learn to forget about him.

she wanted to be mad, to push and kick him away, but she'd been waiting for months for him to reappear into her life. for him to come back to her, the anticipation built in her body every time the door bell echoed off the walls, or knocks that pounded against the door.

but instead she slammed the door almost immediately, and he didn't blame her. how could he when he'd been the one to leave. because on the other side of that door, her heart was pounding.

she'd been wanting to see him for so long, so badly wanted him back in her life, but what if they made the same mistakes? she couldn't take losing him a second time because she'd already lost most of herself when he drove away the first time.

because she'd watched her future slip through her fingertips and there wasn't anything she knew that would make her catch it.

she knew she was to blame for breaking them up. it was for the best, she told her guilty conscience, but it didn't change the heart-wrenching want to have him back.

she'd spent months in the cocoon she made of their cold bed, ultimately settling on his side to feel closer to him. but what was the point? he hadn't slept in that bed in months, the sheets that reeked of him faded, and even more so when he left her, for at the time she thought, forever.

"love, please," he pleaded against the door, his forehead against the cold metal, "I screwed up, but please, let me fix this, us."

she hesitated. she knew she was the type to let people who hurt her back into her life so easily, as if nothing happened, but she was the one who forced him out. she knew that.

so when the door creaked open, he pushed himself away from the door as fast as lightning. her doe eyes peaking around, staring at his chest before they found their way to his face. he'd changed. he looked tired, unkept. she'd be lying if she said she looked the same as she did months ago because she honestly looked worse than him.

because being apart brought out their worst qualities in themselves that they'd helped the other through, but it resurfaced.

when he'd gotten a good look at her, he realized she definitely wasn't the same girl she was months ago. he'd notice the dark circles under her eyes, half-lidded and puffy, begging for sleep. the oversized hoodie he left her, though surprisingly clean, was well-worn by her. through the baggy cloth, he could tell her physique was slimmer, he felt nauseous.

she couldn't stand the silence between them even when they lived the last months of their relationship filled with it. they were both hurting and they both knew it, but they'd assume the other would be the one to patch it up. that's where they messed up, they seem to do it a lot.

"so why now are you here?" she'd cut through the silence with a butter knife, sawing back and forth as she stumbled where she stood. she struggled to keep her balance, lack of energy will do that to you.

"I realized how much of an idiot I was," he stepped closer, bringing his hand to hers, pressing her fingers between his. he trailed the pads of his fingertips down her hand and to her wrist. he'd latch on, caressing the soft skin, he'd remember the feeling.

"but I was the one who broke you with you."

he didn't mean it like that, to insinuate that she was the idiot for breaking them up because in no way did he blame her. he put the blame all on him for not fighting for them.

" 'nd I was the one who left."

she stared up at him, her big eyes doing things to him, he shouldn't feel it in a moment like this, but he did. he just wanted her back, to feel her lips on his, her smooth skin under his soft but callused hands.

her lips parted when she'd realize the feeling of warmth against her face, his hand running along her jaw to her chin. though she was already looking up at him, he pushed her head up further, but so softly.

his voice was raspy and deep, pleading, "please, darlin'." she couldn't say no even if the voice inside her head and the feeling in her heart told her to.

"just don't leave again."

he could never, not after the misery he'd been through without her, blackout nights to forget everything that had led up to their break up. he couldn't imagine the anguish he put her through.

and at those words, he couldn't hold back anymore, his lips colliding with hers so desperately, like he needed her to survive. he kind of did. he tasted faintly of alcohol and fruit, she tasted like mint. her lips moved softly against his passionate kiss because he was acting like she was his oxygen, his water, his everything because she was.

his hand tangled in her hair, the sounds of their breaths between their lips, the heavy heat that surrounded the air as they separated.

"let's go somewhere," he'd suggest, his chest rising and falling more noticeably now.

her lips became a swollen pink as she looked up at him, dazed as her eyes flickered between his green eyes, "where?"

he shook his head, smiling. god, she missed that smile. he spoke so softly now, "anywhere, you pick. it'll jus' be us."

money didn't matter to him. if she wanted to travel to the moon and back, he'd make it happen because he wanted to make things right. he wanted to show her he was all in now because he would never take another step out ever again.

so they'd travel across the world. he'd rent out hotels, restaurants, amusement parks, anything she'd want. like max said, he wanted this between the two of them. no cameras, no fans, no public. just them enjoying their time together and alone at the most beautiful places she could think of.

she'd end up on an island with him, the only other people being the employees of the resorts he'd rent out. he did everything with her.

they went on yachts around the crystal waters and coral reefs surrounding the beaches that they'd later lay and tan on. they'd talk as they bathed in the sunlight. snorkeling while holding hands and pointing out various species that inhabited the waters.

candle-lit dinners sitting across from each other, though their hands never left each other. they'd been offered fancy wines, lando ultimately opting out. she understood. they tried the exotic foods and other virgin drinks the resort had to offer.

they had long runs along the beach, heavy makeout sessions on stranded towels where they couldn't take their hands off the other, deciding to take the trip back to their hut over the waters.

when they'd make it back, he wasted no time because he missed her, the feeling of her around him, the taste of her.

as soon as the hut door slammed shut, his veined hand would be pressured on her neck, pushing at the skin under his fingertips to pull her into his lips. he was desperate, she knew that.

his lips were harshly against hers, she could feel the vibrations of his groans against her flesh, feeling his working hands across her chest, having left her neck temporarily to undo her tied bikini top. it was discarded onto the wooden floors with no further regard. they'd separate, foreheads pushed together and their noses clashing as their breaths mixed in the middle.

his head dipped below her jaw, biting at the skin of her neck. whimpers left her lips and she felt his smirk on her skin while she grasped at his curls. he slowly pushed their bodies towards the open laid bed behind her, her calf's meeting the mattress. he tugged at the elastic of her beach shorts, though deciding to take his time, which made it all the more agonizing for her, she needed him.

his lips trailed her body, leaving trails of his saliva and marks where he nipped at her skin, from her neck down to her chest. he groped her tits, earning a low groan from her as his tongue swirled her areola. she tugged his hair, his curls between each of her fingers as she bit back the sounds that forced through her throat. he was starved of her, which only turned her on more. she felt the heat between her thighs.

he'd kneel on his knees in front of her as he'd continue to leave a string of dark hickeys down her skin as he'd continue to her stomach, and just above her panty line, pulling the elastic of her shorts down. she'd almost just rip them off because she couldn't take how slow he'd move compared to when they first ended up in this situation.

his finger wrapped around the band, slowly pulling the material over the curves of her body, but he'd left her panties, which infuriated her. he did it all while looking straight up into her eyes, the glint in his eyes filled of lust and mischief. he'd lift her leg with his hand wrapped around the back of her knee, helping her kick off the clothing.

he'd kiss the skin just above the side of her knee, his lips glued to her skin as they traveled higher up her thighs, as well as his hands, sliding under the side of her panties. his nose brushed against the cloth of her cunt, ghostly stimulating her clit. it provoked a reaction out of her as she whined, and he'd continue to kiss along the line of her undergarment.

he may have started off desperate, but now he was taking his sweet time to take care of her. she wanted to badly for him to just hurry it along, wanting to feel him, but he'd rather enjoy the moment he had with her, like it was his last.

he pushed aside the cloth barrier, licking his lips as he eyed the wet patch caused by him, his warm breath panned across her cunt and she pleaded, "lan, please." god, he loved to hear her beg, it was music to his ears, but her moans were a symphony.

his two fingers slowly parted her folds, feeling her pulse under him as she moaned against the contact, he 'tsk'd at her reaction, "so wet for me, darling." his voice was raspy, deep and she cursed under her breath as she watched him lick her off his fingers.

the taste of her brought him back, he'd savor it because he hadn't before, not when he didn't realize it could've been the last. she was sweet, her skin smelling of vanilla as his nose brushed against her.

he'd had enough teasing for now, and gently he'd pull down her panties. she'd be fully exposed, but he was still dressed, his clothes feeling tighter around his body, specifically his swim shorts.

he didn't care. he'd thrown one of her legs over his shoulder as he flattened his tongue across her, feeling the tremble in her standing leg. he'd bury his lips in her cunt, vigorously tasting her like he hadnt eaten in weeks. his tongue lapped at her heat and she let out strings of curses interrupted by moans as she'd tug him closer to her by his hair.

vibrations of his groans stimulated her clit as he softly nipped at the sensitive flesh. he'd lapped at her cunt for not long before it became overwhelming, her moans growing high and squeaked as her legs nearly buckled.

he kept going, looking up at her with massively dilated eyes, half-lidded and seductive. her jaw went slack as she stared into his eyes, she felt the crescendo of her high and she'd nearly scream out his name as she came on his tongue. he'd lick up any remaining juice of hers.

his tongue left one long trail over her cunt, pressuring on her sensitive before pulling away, a trail of saliva connecting to his mouth and her slick glistened on his lips and chins. she panted heavily, he watched the rise and fall of her chest, felt the shaking of her knees as they nearly gave out under her.

he'd smile up at her, his goofy grin greeted her after her hazed high calmed. she'd roll her eyes at his light-heartedness after she'd just came on his tongue.

but it was moments like those that'd bring back the spark of youth and naivety to their relationship. because it was what they'd needed all along. all they needed was each other.

[korereapers]

I collaborated with the amazing @laxi0v0 for a cute little event we made in the scriddler server. This is Laxi's art about the fic I wrote, and HONESTLY HONESTLY i couldn't have asked for a better and more supportive partner. Her art is way better than I would ever dream on writing and honestly, Laxi, I'm so glad it was you bc we vibe a lot about our tastes w this ship.

The fic will be on ao3 later, but here, for you guys, before anyone else:

Jonathan takes a sip out his mug, nicely decorated with a pumpkin, the recipe of the pumpkin spice coffee perfected by him for decades. It’s warm, it tastes like fall, and it’s the start of what Jonathan considers to be the best time of the year.

It started like a small tradition for him, when he finally left home and started studying to become the psychologist he wanted to be. Halloween was to be celebrated, especially for freaks like him, abhorrent creatures that made great-granny’s skin crawl. He was proud of that, in a way. It was his moment, it still is, after all of these years, because he is still a freak, he belongs to this weather and these colors more than he belongs anywhere else. He belongs between ocher leaves and the smell of fog, the rain starting to fall over Gotham, only to leave when it’s summer again. The start of his kingdom, of the time he rules over.

Or it would be, if Edward wasn’t so adamant about going to freaking Starbucks.

He doesn’t get it, not really. A malnourished child from Georgia, surrounded by overworked kids that serve them with the most forced smile when Edward asks, yet again, for the infamous Pumpkin Spice Latte. With ice. Oatmeal milk. Whipped cream.

Jonathan wants to die.

“How is this even supposed to be spooky?”

Edward rolls his eyes, green contact lenses barely moving, as if they were starting to get glued to his irises. Which should be a bad sign, but Jonathan is, yet again, not his boyfriend’s keeper.

“Not everything has to be spooky when this time arrives, Jonathan.”

He kind of dislikes it, when he calls him by his full name. He calls him Jon when they are alone, when they are intimate, when their bodies or their hearts are entwined. He doesn’t like when he calls him Jonathan, because that means that Edward thinks he is being too bitter, complaining too much, a complete prick.

It’s not that he dislikes the stupid PSL, either, but it feels like desecrating one of his oldest traditions, and he feels as if he were betraying himself.

“Don’t you like my recipe, then? Do you dislike it so much we have to come here every single week?”

The cashier smiles at them awkwardly as Edward pays for their order, tipping the young lady generously.

“Do you have to take everything personally? I started getting here when I finally had my own money to spend. Is it that hard to just enjoy it, when I want to share it with you?”

Oh. A tradition. Jonathan distractedly drinks from his thematic glass, but says nothing.

They are really different, Edward and himself. To Edward, spending time and money like this… is almost a love language. It’s a lifestyle that he works hard to keep, having dinner in expensive places, getting coffee every time he can. Sharing it with him, because Jonathan is important to him.

Jonathan may be unable to feel fear, and his brain may be as damaged as Edward’s heart, but guilt still crawls its way into his psyche. It still makes him feel uneasy, because he cares, because he understands the feeling, because he wants to share his recipe with Edward because of the exact same reason.

He touches Edward’s hand when they sit, an apology he doesn’t utter but that can be felt in his irradiated orange eyes.

“I like it when you share time and nourishment with me.”

Edward’s expression softens, a glint of blue under the bright green contact lenses.

“Wow, when did you get emotionally aware?” his mouth says instead, and for a moment, Jonathan understands the Bat and his compulsion to punch him in the mouth.

“I’m a psychologist, Edward.”

“... right,” he mutters, his voice cheeky, still clearly a little mad, his thoughts loud. Jonathan loves that about him, his expression when he is deep in thought, when he is trying to understand something. A puzzle, a new riddle in their lives. “That recipe of yours is really important to you, too, if I’m guessing correctly.”

Jonathan nods, his eyes still on Edward’s, who seems to be feeling a little bit too shy to look at him, knowing that they are having an emotionally vulnerable moment.

“It is. I made it myself and… I want to share it with you.”

Edward does smile a little at that, his voice softer when he speaks.

“Let me try it later. I want to give it the thought and recognition it deserves.”

Jonathan’s thumb caresses Edward’s hand, his smile contagious. Like a well concocted virus.

“I would love to.”

—-------------------------------------------

Edward is pretty sure that he is (very unluckily, by the way) dating the man with the poorest taste in the world. Jonathan seems to think that he is hilarious, dressed in his usual costume, even the needles oozing toxin as he sits quietly on the couch.

There is a thing about him that Edward has always loved: how he becomes a different person when the mask is on.

They used to talk about it, back in the day, when they used to share a room in the Asylum. Jonathan felt naked without his mask, his expression dull and almost tense, devoid of what made him himself. Edward, at least, has managed to make those expressions change, the real Jon emerging from behind whatever aloof façade he tries to put on to protect himself, to pretend he is a regular human being and not the freak that makes his heart melt.

He must surely be smiling behind the mask, then. Edward can almost feel him vibrating in excitement, like a small child, and in a way, he kind of is. A reclaimed childhood, the enjoyment of a joy he wasn’t allowed to feel. He can understand that.

Still, the poorest fucking choice of a Halloween costume.

“Really, Jon? The most original idea, I have to say.”

Jonathan looks at him, and he can feel his piercing eyes even behind the mask, the expression of a predator, so dangerous it makes his face flush a little. Birds of a feather, both of them. The Scarecrow sighs, deeply, the sound distorted behind the mask. It’s creepy, he has to admit, which is probably… kind of the point.

“Like you’re one to talk, Herlock Sholmes.”

Edward gasps, indignant. His Poirot costume is nothing to be laughed at.

“Excuse me?!”

He can almost feel the smile behind the mask, because Edward knows him, he knows Jonathan is an avid reader, he knows the difference between Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, for fuck's sake. He is doing this on purpose, to rile him up. He always is.

Edward's mind goes somewhere else, somewhere private. Somewhere where he is indeed riled up, and Jonathan touches his cheek, looking up at his face from behind the mask, Edward sitting on his lap, while long, dangerous hands go up his thigh, eyes hungry-

The doorbell rings. Edward goes back to reality, Jonathan's eyes on him as he moves towards the entrance, the tips of his ears surely blushing.

When he opens the door, he has to look down, because damn, kids sure look tinier these days. He cannot remember to be this short, this innocent, this…

Happy.

He feels Jonathan's chin on his shoulder, almost jumping in place because the man is silent like a ghost, no matter how eager he is to take part in the holiday.

One of the kids is wearing a Batman costume, and Edward tries his hardest not to roll his eyes, with better or worse success. Another kid is dressed as Harley Quinn, what makes him wonder if these parents are in need of any kind of psychological help. The youngest, a child dressed as Wonder Woman, looks at them with badly hidden mischief, and Edward feels tempted to just close the door.

"Trick or treat!" They ask in unison, and before Edward can answer, Jonathan drops a bag in front of them, full of who knows what, but the kids don't ask.

Such blissful ignorance.

"Thank you Mister Holmes! Mister Scarecrow!" The girl dressed up as Batman says, and the one dressed as Wonder Woman purses her lips in disgust.

"Poirot's moustache isn't like that. You're a fake."

The kid dressed as Harley Quinn laughs in response, taking the bag of candy and running away with Wonder Woman. The one dressed as Batman follows who Edward believes to be her sisters, and he blissfully thanks that they don't have any children.

"Please tell me the bag is full of drugs."

Jonathan chuckles a little, his arms around Edward's waist.

"Hershey's," is everything he says, his sudden lack of malice and evil intent a headache for Edward.

"Oh, Jon. Are you going soft on me?"

Jonathan's smile can be felt in the air, a predator, a killer awaiting their next victim.

"Me? Oh, darlin'..." he whispers against Edward's ear, his distorted voice making him shudder in anticipation. "Never."

[ohsalome]

What Ukrainians ate to survive Holodomor

(translated excerpts from an Історична Правда article): + images source

The villagers would dig up the holes of the polecats to find at least a handful of grain hidden by these animals. They pounded it in a mortar, added a handful of oilcake (from hemp seed), beetroot, potato peelings, and baked something from this mixture.

Those who managed to hide at least a little grain would grind it in iron mills made from wheel axles and cook "zatyrukha" (a concoction made from a small amount of flour ground from ears of grain).

Acacia flowers were boiled and eaten raw, and green quinoa was mixed with crushed corn cobs. Those who could - and this was considered lucky - added a handful of bran. This food made their feet swell and their skin crack.

The peasants dried the husked ears of corn and millet husks, pounded them, ground them with weeds, and cooked soups and baked pancakes. Such dishes were impossible to chew, the body could not digest them, so people had stomach aches. Pancakes, the so-called "matorzhenyky", were made from oilcake and nettle or plantain.

It went so far that peasants would crumble straw into small chips and pound it in a mortar together with millet and buckwheat chaff, and tree bark. All this was mixed with potato peelings, which were very poisonous, and this mixture was used to bake "bread", the consumption of which caused severe stomach diseases.

There were cases when village activists took away and broke millstones, mortars, poured water on the heat in their ovens. After all, anything found or saved from the food had to be cooked on fire, and matches could only be purchased by bartering for their own belongings or by buying them in the city, which was impossible from villagers that were on "black lists".

Chestnuts, aspen and birch bark, buds, reed roots, hawthorn and rose hips, which were the most delicious, were used as food substitutes; various berries, even poisonous ones, were picked; grass seeds were ground into flour; "honey" from sugar beets was cooked, and water brewed with cherry branches was drunk. They also ate the kernels of sunflower seeds.

Newborns had the worst of it, because their mothers had no breast milk. According to testimonies, a mother would let her child suck the drink from the top of the poppy head, and the child would fall asleep for three days.

In early spring, the villagers began to dig up old potato fields. They would bake dumplings from frozen potatoes, grind rotten potatoes in a mash and make pancakes, greasing the frying pan with wheel grease. They also baked "blyuvaly" (transl. "vomities") from such potatoes and oatmeal mixed with water, which was so called because they were very smelly.

They ate mice, rats, frogs, hedgehogs, snakes, beetles, ants, worms, i.e. things that weren't a part of food bans and had never been eaten by people before. The horror of the famine is also evidenced by the consumption of spiders, which are forbidden to kill in Ukrainian society for ritual reasons.

In some areas, slugs were boiled into a soup, and the cartilaginous meat was chopped and mixed with leaves. This prevented swelling of the body and contributed to survival. People caught tadpoles, frogs, lizards, turtles, and mollusks. They boiled them, adding a little salt if there was salt. The starving people caught cranes, storks, and herons, which have been protected in Ukraine for centuries, and their nests were never destroyed. According to folk beliefs, eating stork meat was equated with cannibalism.

The consumption of horse meat began in 1931, before the mass famine. People used to take dead horsemeat from the cemeteries at night, make jelly out of it and salt it for future use.

Dead horses were poured with carbolic acid to prevent people from taking their meat, but it hardly stopped anybody. Dead collective farm pigs were also doused with kerosene to prevent people from dismantling them for food, but this did not help either.

After long periods of starvatiom, the process of digestion is very costing for the human body, and many people who would eat anything would drop dead immediately out of exhaustion.

If a family had a cow hidden somewhere in the forest, they had a chance to survive. People living near forests could hunt/seek out berries and mushrooms, but during winter this wouldn't save them. People living near rivers could fish in secret, but it was banned and punishable by imprisonment/death.

[noobsoconfusing]

oddly specific but comforting things that remind me of the slushy noobz:

martin: warm soggy oatmeal, stepping on water while wearing socks, mayo sandwiches, diary of a wimpy kid, vine compilations, waking up on a rainy morning and skipping school, tv static, ipod era, pillow forts, a warm microwaved meal after coming from school, a lonely parking lot late at night, eating in the car, very early car rides to nowhere, sundays after 5pm, the very first shot of heroin, a really bad acid trip, bubblegum flavoured toothpaste, mcdonalds sprite, coming out of the pool and eating a club sandwich, rainbow loom trading, napoleon dynamite, lactose intolerance, the feeling of when you think you failed a test but actually barely pass, awkward first crush, humidity stains on walls, warm delaware punch, reading a suggestive fanfic for the first time at 11 years old, laughing till it hurts.

hamzah: watching youtube while eating, finding a friend group, sweaty hands, sleeping naked under the covers with cool weather, cinnamon scented candles, cold dr pepper, aqua teen hunger force, mtv, a hug from a loved one when most needed, a badly rolled blunt, dipping cookies in freezing cold milk, being on a bus, favourite music full volume on headphones, supermarket air, shivering wet dog under the rain, stan twitter 2015, laying on the floor just because you want to, shower after a hot day, discovering your favourite song for the first time, warm soup, editing on videostar, jailbreaking a chrome book, creepypastas, cartoon network late at night, the annoying orange, a walk in the woods, discovering true love, being loved back, mashed potatoes, sleepovers, stale cake, the smell of burnt toast, buttered bread, realising you’re not alone.

martin & hamzah: feeling like you belong somewhere, little miss sunshine, crying of laughter, owning your first place, being paypalled, regular show, brotherhood, a nice hug, realising your home is a person, feeling understood for the first time after thinking you were weird. realising you’re weird, reciprocal love.

>_<

[xo-cod]

Could you please write some soft!dom headcanons for Konig? That man would be the best soft dom!

he would 🥺🥺 oh i love him so bad :( you didn't specify so i wrote sfw and nsfw headcannons <33 ooc/rushed! hope you enjoy 🤍

soft dom!könig who will use his height to his advantage everytime. he will always reach the top shelf for you. definitely has a size kink but instead of being embarrassed over it, he's learnt to embrace it especially when you look utterly adorable. he likes poking fun at your height bending to your level,"how's the weather down there mein liebling" he speaks with an amused chuckle before raising his arm to grab whatever item you need. or sometimes when he's feeling playful, he'll just lift you up in his arms so you can grab it instead while he holds you with an amused expression. he really just likes to be needed, give him any task and he's putty in your hands. and when you both are in a fight, he'll purposely leave things on the highest shelf to get you to ask him and speaking to him again <33

soft dom!könig who carries your favourite snacks with him. this big bad colonel is a total baby with his beau, he'll always have your favourite snack buried in one of the pockets in his clothes/gear. even on base, when he catches that small hangry frown on your face, he'll reach into one of his many pockets and hand you a snack to eat while he presses a kiss to your forehead for comfort. he's very tender hearted, he might be all bossy and brash on the field but to you, there's a side only you've unlocked. his team will sometimes see him stroking your back whispering sweet nothings in german as he melts the frown away from your face. he really likes babying you, he can't help it. though if anyone mentions it, they'll get an uppercut to the jaw asap <33

soft dom!könig who is very touchstarved and constantly needs to be touching you in some way. sometimes he gets really bad anxiety attacks and he seeks your comfort more than ever. so long as he can feel your touch and hear your voice, it brings him a peace that he'll never be able to describe to you. he loves having you in his lap as you're both cuddled on the couch, watching some movie. he's always fidgeting with some part of your body. whether that's your fingers, legs, clit, he's always touching you whenever you both are alone. it's just become second nature, your scent and the way your skin feels against him is a feeling he always needs to be experiencing. it's extremely hard when he's away on deployment, he just misses you so much. counting the days and the seconds until he can have you back in his arms where you belong, until he can smell your pretty scent and snuggle into your soft skin. it makes him yearn so badly <33

soft dom!könig who writes you cute little love notes in the morning before he heads off. he'll make sure you're eating your meals, already prepared your breakfast so all you need to do is eat it. he'll make a smiley face in your oatmeal or making sure the coffee is ready so all you need to is press the button. and he loves organising dates with you, his favourite are the ones where you're both hand in hand having a picnic or a walk under the moonlight, talking about life and laughing with each other. he always appreciates the small things, there's no need for over the top gestures with him. you both could be in a car but as long as you're by his side, he's already having fun. it's enough for him <33

and soft dom!könig who knows he can become very clingy but you're the first that's been this close with him. he can't help himself when he becomes possessive of you. not only are you someone he now trusts implicitly but you've taken his heart and made it yours. he absolutely loves cockwarming you after he's ravished you for hours. it's not for sexual purposes, more so the feeling of you in his arms and around him. he has a gentle smile on his face, his sweet baby blues gazing at you while he adjusts your positions so you're both on your side. his cock grazes against your sweet spot, making your breath hitch and legs tremble. "how'd i get so lucky with you mein schatz?" his finger strokes your cheek as he pulls you in. you were a beautiful vision, flushed face, perspiration covering your body, eyes half lidded. he can feel you clench around him which makes chuckle softly.

"can you feel me, hm? feel me all the way in?" he looks at the bulge he's created in your stomach, his hand drifting over it gently pressing it. it makes him wants to break you all over again but he respects and appreciate you need a break, so he settles down. your soft whimper makes him groan a little, nuzzling your neck. his eyes flutter close at how good you felt around him, his big hands pulling your body closer for warmth and comfort while his hips roll slowly and methodically over yours. feeling the head of his cock lazily brush against the nerves buried deep inside <33

[aloysiavirgata]

She walks in beauty, like the night

Scully in the simplest, blackest silk. Scully pale, moon-kissed, vulnerable. Scully’s hair and eyes like where the stars are born.

***

Scully comes to him when even the moon is all but asleep, like a single calla lily from a secret admirer. Unbidden. Unexpected.

Unparalleled.

“Mulder,” she says, outside his open door, in a negligee that last shade of sky blue before it goes pitch black.

Spaghetti straps and a low décolletage, though not shockingly low. Lace trim, mid thigh. It looks like something Katharine Hepburn would wear to slap you.

Not you. Him.

Specifically him.

She looks up at him through her heavy-lashed, heavy-lidded eyes.

He stares at her for his own sake because deep in his 12 year old heart, no one would ever, ever, believe that nerdy Fox Muld-

Scully takes another step closer onto the sad oatmeal carpet of his hotel room. She has such pretty ankles, she has such pretty calves. She smells like honeysuckle and hot bike tires and buttery lobster rolls and the sweetest, purest moments of his life.

She tips her face up to him, Agent Scully does, all eyes and lips and cheekbones like a geometric proof.

“God,” he says. And he means it.

***

LA belongs to the sun and Scully is a San Diego baby but he knows, he knows, she is an East Coast girl at heart. He knows she loves the first retinal purple-orange sunrises of America and the first sapphire kisses of night. He knows she loves the stars by which her father learned to navigate. He knows she loves the distant moon.

He knows she loves blue crabs and wool duffel coats and khaki shorts and aspires to East Hampton in her most secret, silent heart.

One day he will make love to her in London because she will, he knows, hark to the call of the City. She is a creature of old stone and lichen and liminal space.

She is the answer to Samson’s riddle.

***

He’d rented a jet black ‘57 Chevy Bel Air because Christ, this girl. Abductions and cancer and the most awful brutality and stolen ova and Christ; this brilliant, moonbeam girl.

She sees the car and she says nothing. But her eyes, her eyes. Her Star of India eyes.

Scully sees the car and she smiles, shy. Scully squeezes his hand.

***

He fucks her - hard, desperate - in the Chevy out over Mullholland and she cries out for him because even Saint Teresa writhed in ecstasy.

He kisses her the way a mariner kisses his homeland soil because she is his human credential. He kisses her like a Torah scroll. He shudders, murmurs I love you, I love you into the hot, sweet dark of her mouth.

***

She is bleeding, just a little. She is bleeding in the warm caress of a Southern California night. She is bleeding as though she were a virgin and maybe she is; maybe there is sex and there is fucking and there is making love and there is This.

Are you there, god? It’s me, Dana.

She touches his sleeping rosebud lips. She touches his funny nose and his beautiful jaw and she doesn’t say I love you aloud like he had because she’d learned it was shameful. She’d learned to salute.

But it’s 3 AM, neither properly morning nor properly night. It’s 3 AM and she isn’t LA pretty, not by a long shot, but she’s here with him, with Mulder, who is very LA pretty and has money besides.

She’s too short and too pale and her nose is patrician rather than cute and she gets burnt instead of tan. She doesn’t laugh in the right places at movies. She likes copper because it burns green, she likes moths more than butterflies, she can quote Jane Austen’s most acerbic lines.

She thinks of Mulder swimming hard across the Vineyard tides, Mulder with his cinnamon skin in the whipped cream breakers. Riding a red fixed-gear along Lake Tashmoo, tugging his tiny sister along. Mulder basking on the beach like a young god of summer. Mulder with his heart afire like Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque.

Her father is dead and look, look Mulder has such a tender soul even if he’s Jewish and atheist, Daddy. Mulder has eyes like fern moss.

“I love you,” she says, her eyes brimming with tears, her eyes bright as the newest stars.

[queenofmoons67]

The Surface Officers’ Spouses’ Club: An IceMav Fic

Summary: Maverick is a captain in his own right, but he’s also an admiral’s spouse. Or, five times someone else calls Maverick “Admiral Kazansky’s husband/spouse,” and the one time Maverick refers to himself as such.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Notes: Back in October / November 2023, I asked which of my Top Gun ideas I should write next, and a solid third of you chose this one! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

This fic takes place shortly after DADT was repealed in 2010/2011.

Maverick is a captain. At the beginning of the fic, Ice is a two-star admiral / Rear Admiral, Upper Half.

Fanfic!

The first time someone addressed Maverick as “Admiral Kazansky’s husband,” he flushed red, but slipped his hand into Ice’s and squeezed. They had only been married for a month—only even been out as a couple for the two months since DADT was overturned—and it still thrilled Maverick to be able to claim Ice as his own, and to be claimed in return.

They were in love, and they could tell the whole world. The only thing Maverick wanted more was Bradley back in his life.

The second time someone addressed Maverick as “Admiral Kazansky’s husband,” he frowned, and purposefully straightened the collar of his uniform so his silver captain’s eagle caught the light. This was Captain Mitchell’s meeting, and Captain Mitchell had been a captain long before he became an admiral’s husband.

The third time someone addressed Maverick as “Admiral Kazansky’s husband,” she didn’t use the word “husband.” She came up to him in the commissary, a lipstick-red smile across a lightly sun-tanned face, blonde bob just brushing her cheeks, and said, “Hi! You’re Admiral Kazansky’s spouse, right?”

Maverick paused, and lowered his hand from where he’d been reaching for the dinosaur egg oatmeal—Bradley’s favorite, and the only kind Maverick himself could eat now after having it for years.

“That’s me,” he said, though the words came slowly. ‘Navy spouse,’ he thought, implied someone like the woman before him, left behind lamenting their husband’s deployments. Someone like Carole, who had been raising Bradley mostly on her own even before Goose died.

‘Navy spouse’ did not mean someone like Maverick, who went on deployments himself more than Ice did now.

Maverick had never been good at hiding his emotions, so his hesitation must have shown, but the woman didn’t seem deterred. Instead, her smile widened.

“Excellent! I’ve been trying to find you to ask if you’d be interested in joining the Point Loma Surface Officers’ Spouses’ Club? My name is Melissa Royce, I’m Captain Royce’s spouse, and we—”

“I’m sorry,” Maverick interrupted. “I think you have the wrong idea. I am married to Admiral Kazansky, but I’m a captain, too. I wouldn’t…”

Maverick trailed off, hands waving to try and communicate what he wouldn’t be. Belong, in a group of spouses? Know what to do, amongst a group of people who had all given up their own ambitions to support their husbands, while Maverick gave Ice more trouble than he was worth?

Melissa’s smile grew smaller, but she reached out and patted him on the arm. “Honey, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You wouldn’t be the only officer in the group; lots of us are two-officer pairs, though heaven knows I don’t know how you do it.

“But beyond that…” She arched one eyebrow. “This is a support group, honey. For us, and for the base. How do you think it stays standing when all the sailors are deployed? How do you think it stays standing when you’re all here?”

Maverick stared at her. Somehow, he thought the protest that he was an aviator, not a sailor, would just prove her point. It hadn’t been so long since he was a young lieutenant that he’d forgotten the havoc they could wreck on shore leave.

And if Melissa really meant it, that ‘spouses’ could include ‘officers’… What did Maverick have to lose?

“When’s the next meeting?” he asked.

<line break>

Maverick eased open the door to the community room, situated on the second floor of a building that also housed the base’s library, after school childcare, and a general store. It was a bit of an “everything building,” Melissa had explained, and the Point Loma Surface Officers’ Spouses’ Club—also known as PLSOSC, because apparently even Navy spouses loved their acronyms—booked the community room once a week, every Saturday morning.

Saturday, she had said, because those with kids could rely on spouses or babysitters, and those with jobs had a better chance of making the meeting on the weekend than during the work week. Mornings, she had said, because nothing got ideas flowing like free coffee and a bunch of gossipmongers.

She hadn’t specified what “ideas” they needed to come up with. Hadn’t specified much of anything beyond when and where, and that he “just needed to bring his handsome face; it’s not a potluck!”

So there Maverick was. Empty-handed, handsome face freshly shaved, handsome husband abandoned in bed on a Saturday morning, when normally they’d be taking the chance to sleep in together.

Ice hadn’t been happy about that, his hands reaching out as Maverick left the bed, lips pouting and cheeks puffed out, though he’d perked up a bit when he heard what Maverick’s plans were.

“I’m glad you’re making new friends,” he had said, even as the perpetually cold-blooded admiral curled his hands back into the comforter and tucked it under his own chin.

Maverick… wasn’t as sure that “making new friends” was what he was doing. He also wasn’t sure if it was going to be worth leaving Ice alone like that.

But he’d told Melissa he’d try it, so here he was; Maverick regularly flew upside down, just because he could… He could handle a bunch of Navy spouses.

Although, even just opening the door and immediately being bombarded with loud voices had him second-guessing that ability.

One voice rose above them all.

“Pete!” Melissa called. “Everyone, this is Captain Pete Mitchell, Admiral Kazansky’s spouse. Pete, this is everyone!”

Melissa waved at the crowd, and Maverick shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked forward, taking the room in.

Folding tables had been put away against the walls, but the chairs were all out, accommodating about twenty people sitting in a circle. Several of them had clipboards out, pens poised over paper already half-filled with ink.

“Come in, come in!” Melissa beckoned. “There’s an empty seat right by Bryan.”

A middle-aged man with cool, dark brown skin nodded at Maverick, his longer-than-Navy-regulation black locs swaying with the motion.

The woman on the other side of the empty seat, brown hair sheered short in a buzzcut over pale white skin, snorted under her breath, “Melissa is not subtle.”

“Shut up,” Bryan laugh-whispered. “She’s doing her best.”

“She’s making a point,” the woman replied, and offered her hand to Maverick. “Hi, I’m Lieutenant Emily Brock. Stationed with Submarine Squadron 11. My wife is a THIRD Fleet officer.”

Maverick shook her hand, then shook Bryan’s when he offered, too. “Bryan Matthews, civilian,” Bryan said. “My wife is also with THIRD Fleet.”

“Captain Pete Mitchell,” Maverick said, grinning a bit at the realization Melissa had put him in-between another officer-spouse and a male-spouse. “You can just call me ‘Maverick’ though. And my husband is, uh—”

“Admiral Kazansky,” Bryan and Emily finished. They both laughed, and Emily gave Maverick a friendly nudge with her elbow. “Hope you stick around, if only so I can tease Becca I’ve got an in with her boss.”

The wife, Bryan mouthed, and Maverick nodded back.

“Is Becca here too?” he asked.

Emily shook her head. “Nah, submariner spouses have their own group. So do aviators—your husband will probably get an invite there soon, if he hasn’t already.”

Maverick blinked. He hadn’t even considered if Ice belonged in a group like this. He was Rear Admiral Thomas “The Iceman” Kazansky, rising star of the US Navy, on-track to be COMPACFLT someday. He wasn’t like Maverick, desperately holding onto the captain position with both hands while trying not to be discharged or promoted.

But if Captain Mitchell qualified as a Navy spouse because he married Admiral Kazansky… then wasn’t the reverse also true? That Admiral Kazansky was a Navy spouse because he married Captain Mitchell?

“Huh.” Maverick leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and tuning back into the conversation and atmosphere around them.

Melissa was certainly a leader amongst them, which made sense; Captain Royce, while lower in rank than Ice, was the CO of Point Loma itself. But none of the spouses were shy about barking ideas to the people with clipboards. Several people had broken off into smaller groups, like Bryan, Emily, and Maverick, while others moved from group to group. Others still congregated at the one table that was set-up with—Maverick sniffed—coffee.

Most people wore comfortable clothes, just jeans and t-shirts, and others wore uniforms. Some people drifted in, and others drifted out. The room was a constant flow of movement and ideas.

“So… what exactly are we supposed to be doing?” he asked, turning back to Bryan and Emily.

“Gossiping,” Emily said.

“Brainstorming,” Bryan said.

Maverick looked between them, eyebrow raised.

“Brainstorming,” Emily said.

“Gossiping,” Bryan said.

<line break>

The answer, Maverick found, was both. PLSOSC focused on building a community out of people who were often in Point Loma for only a few years, or even just a few months, at a time. That meant people were welcome to just chat and catch up, but they could also throw out ideas for trips off-base, donation drives, dinner parties—anything and everything a group of adults could do together.

And it wasn’t just PLSOSC, named the Point Loma Surface club for a reason. Emily had been right: Ice received his own invitation to the Point Loma Aviator Officers’ Spouses’ Club, or PLAOSC, and came back from the first meeting with tears in his eyes from all the funny stories the other spouses had heard second-hand about Mav.

“‘Captain Mitchell’s spouse!’” Ice gasped, voice high in a falsetto. “‘Oh, I must know, did he really moon an admiral in o-eight?’”

“‘Why yes,’” Ice answered himself, voice dropped even deeper than his natural tone, “‘but the admiral in question was his boyfriend, and they were in a locker room, so it was only natural.’”

Maverick almost broke a rib, he laughed so hard at Ice’s retelling.

In joining the two groups, Maverick also knew that he and Ice had had an entire world opened before their eyes. They had known every inch of aircraft carriers in the past, all the docks and offices, runways and classrooms, everywhere a Navy aviator might go.

Now, they also knew what happened behind-the-scenes: The stories that spouses whispered to each other about visiting officers, the stories they told about Point Loma’s own officers, and even the stories they told about Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell. They’d been able to get ahead of more than one potentially bad rumor because Melissa whispered it in Maverick’s ear before anyone else’s, or because someone told Ice what the latest story was.

“Admiral Kazansky’s spouse,” Ice would sing as he opened the door to their home, “just what have you been up to?”

“Only the usual, Captain Mitchell’s spouse,” Maverick would respond, leaning his head backwards over the arm of the couch to look at Ice. “Buzzing towers and mooning admirals.”

“But only one admiral, right?” Ice would whisper, leaning down, and Maverick would whisper back, “Right,” as he returned his husband’s kiss.

No matter where they were stationed, there was an Officers’ Spouses’ Club waiting for them: Gossip, community, and all.

There was even one at TOPGUN.

<line break>

Rooster had to admit, being back in California and living in his childhood home was a lot less stressful the second time around, now that he had a huge successful mission under his belt, half a dozen new friends, a dozen solidified old friendships, and a renewed relationship with his godfather and uncle.

Leaning back in his chair, the rubber back-straps squeaking, Rooster popped the last of his tater tots in his mouth. It was fall, but being on the California coast meant the morning was both heated by the sun and cooled by the ocean breeze—the perfect combo for a squadron brunch on a diner patio.

The squad did tend to take up the entire patio, leaving no room for anyone else, but the seats were filled, so the owners didn’t mind.

Rooster hummed under his breath and tapped a beat on the table with his fingers, grinning at Phoenix when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” he laughed. “It’s a good morning.”

She shook her head. “You’re so like Mav.” Her eyes slid past him, and Rooster sat up, twisting to see—

Maverick, chair creaking on the back two legs, fingers tapping along the table edge, grinning at Ice and shaking his head. The admiral was probably trying to get Maverick back on all four chair legs again; Rooster wished him luck. Only his mom had ever been able to get Maverick to sit properly, and only then when he had Bradley himself in his lap.

Rooster stood at the thought, a grin already forming.

“Watch this,” he told Phoenix, and strode over to Maverick.

“Hey, Mav,” he said, faux casual, and dropped his butt in Maverick’s lap like he was five years old again.

Being a few decades older than that, of course, his weight pulled Maverick’s chair back down to earth, Maverick squawking under the sudden pressure and Ice barking a laugh, raspy from his recent bad cold, but his humor clear.

Around them, the daggers broke out laughing as well. Maverick groaned, but wrapped his arms around Rooster’s waist.

“You can just ask, Gosling,” Maverick cooed.

Rooster froze, stomach twisting with a bad feeling. The gleeful look on Phoenix’s face—even more than when Rooster had first sat in Maverick’s lap—only made the bad feeling grow.

“Ice, look what—Oh, hey guys! What are you doing here?”

Rooster blinked. A group of people had been walking down the sidewalk, but had come to a stop right in front of the diner. Right in front of Maverick and Ice’s table, actually.

An older Black man with a short, graying afro grinned at them. “You’re the one who recommended this place, Mav,” he said. “Didn’t say the patio would be off limits, though!”

Maverick laughed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Bryan. It’s kind of turned into our Sunday morning hangout spot.” His hand patted Rooster’s knee, and Rooster stood, suddenly realizing that he had been sitting on his godfather’s lap still.

Bryan shook his head. “It’s all fine. We’ll find a spot inside.” His gaze turned to Rooster, brown eyes piercing. “Bradley, right? Nice to meet you. You’ll have to come to one of our family events sometime.”

Rooster swallowed. He’d never introduced himself to Bryan, but he’d known his name—and not just his callsign.

“Ooh, that’s a great idea!” Maverick agreed. “Don’t have any on the calendar right now though, right? We’ll have to talk next Saturday.”

“Are you coming then, Mav?” One of the people behind Bryan leaned forward, eyes lit up. “You’ve missed the last ones!”

“He’s been busy, Cheryl,” another woman hissed, poking the first in the side.

Cheryl pouted, but Maverick just laughed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

Rooster slid back over to Phoenix as the group walked through the patio and into the diner, each person saying hi to Mav, and some to Ice as well.

“Was I just threatened?” he hissed in her ear.

“Nah,” she replied. He relaxed, and then—“Well, maybe a little. Don’t hurt Mav again, though, and you’ll be alright.” She patted his side, laughing.

Rooster backed away slowly as Halo pulled her into conversation, naturally ending up by Maverick and Ice again.

“What was all that about?” he asked.

“Huh?” Maverick paused mid-sentence to Ice, looking up at Rooster instead. “Oh, that was the TOPGUN Surface Officers’ Spouses’ Club.” He paused, then added, “Which I’m part of. Because I’m this guy’s spouse.” He poked Ice in the arm, and Ice rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” Ice sighed. “‘This guy’s’ spouse.”

Maverick laughed. “Well, everyone else says I’m Admiral Kazansky’s spouse. But I just call him Ice.”

Maverick leaned across the small table, meeting Ice halfway in a chaste kiss, and Rooster turned on the spot, hurrying back to Phoenix.

“I’m going to puke,” he hissed at her, and she grinned at him, eyes crinkled and wicked.

“You’re the one who engaged the lovebirds.”

“My mistake,” Rooster sighed, but smiled when he glanced back to see Maverick and Ice holding hands.

Yeah. Life was pretty great.

<end fic>

Thank you all for reading! Please leave a comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed the story; it'll serve as fuel for more fic writing!

[vcill]

Ruin him ♡

He's so unreliable, always forgetting when y'all planned a date, running late when we you ask to meet him, just being a bad bf over all.

But everyday he makes up for it, he either eat the pussy till it causing floods, or stuff you fuller then an oatmeal cream pie.

Don't have a pussy? Dw abt it. He'll suck that dick off too, deep throat it and all while rubbing your sack for that extra friction. Swallowing the cum like his life depend on it.

Wants you to ruin him, he knows he fucked up, he know he sucks. So go ahead, pull his hair, scratch, bite, stop him from cumming. Treat him so badly they think u abuse the poor baby but he actually loves it.

Don't hold back, take ur anger out on him, show him who boss. Just cause y'all in public don't mean he can act a fool, feel free to drag him by the ear to let him know that. Let him know he ain't worth nothing but a dick for you to use at night.

Say you love him but only whenever you want to, yeah u hear him say ily, don't mean you gotta acknowledge it. What he can acknowledge is that u needa be eaten out/sucked off. Maybe after that you'll say it back.

The audacity this man has thinking you'll let him fuck you. You'll fuck him is what he needa be thinking. You actually being nice to him once, letting him sit back and watch as you work his dick. You expect a nice thank u afterwards.

Everyday he's on his hands and knees worshiping you, seeing you as the only good thing in this world. Him resting his head on your thighs, maybe even kissing you feet letting u know u belong to him, letting you know you got this man hooked.

He woulda never thought he would be like this when he first saw you, he actually thought you'd be like him. Begging every night to be fucked. But look at the little baby that's crying and begging to cum. The on who kept whining all day about you ignoring him.

Watch him be a filthy bitch and watch as you ruin him day by day. Never forgetting who owns every part of him.

(changing my style up a bit 🤭 what u guys think)

[softlysuga]

satan's sweetheart [ch. 1]

You’re a demon. One day, you’re summoned into a living room, and an exhausted woman quickly rambles about needing to get to work and being unable to find a sitter before flying out the door. Now, you stand in your summoning circle, a toddler staring wide eyed at you.

pairing: taehyung x female demon!reader genre: fluff, crack, smut (but in the other chapters) rating: pg-13 wc: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of the underworld, death (like the Reaper), pagan activities? i mean the woman literally summons a demon LOL

note: prompt is by @writing-prompt-s! i thought it was actually fcking hilarious and half the time i was writing i was like wtf is this LOL also thank you to @jtrbluv for beta reading! my d1 tumblr moot ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ♡.°₊ˎˊ˗

-> let me know if you want me to make a taglist for this fic or any other fics :)

There’s a tugging sensation at your stomach, and your lips curl into a smile. 

A summoning. Finally. 

Relaxing, you let the sorcery of the summoning whisk you away from your dwelling and hear the familiar pop in your ears as you enter the human realm. Dust setting, you open your eyes, hoping to feast your eyes on your next meal. 

“Who dares to summon—” you boom in your demonic form, clouds of smoke entering the room and a glow of evil cloaking your figure. Of course, it’s all theatrics.  

But…

“I’m so sorry, I tried calling for a babysitter but no one was free,” a frazzled-looking woman interrupts, “and I know, you’re probably like, well, can’t you ask family—”

The woman scrambles to find her keys and belongings, slowly lugging her bag to a door. You stand a few feet away in the middle of a summoning star adorned with a few candles and eerie-looking symbols. There’s an offering of fruits and leftover Halloween candy, along with an edition of the Grand Grimoire. 

“—and I did! I asked Taehyung to come over, that brat, always shirking from his responsibilities, but he said he’s in the middle of a basketball game? Can you believe him? I had asked him to a month ago, and he still managed to forget! Ugh, younger brothers. Anyway, it’s not like I can ask my parents because they’re dead.” 

Surprised, you cut the theatrics and unwind into your natural form. “I mean, Old Reaper spares no one,” you chuckle, shooing away the clouds and lightning. “He’s kind of a nasty fellow, that one. Always so grumpy.”  

The woman freezes, one hand in the midst of putting on a shoe. She turns around, stunned. “You changed.” 

You frown. “Did you expect me to stay in that form forever? It’s actually quite energy-draining— I much prefer this one.” You look down at yourself, confirming that you’re in the correct form. “I mean, I can turn myself into a cat if you would like. Or an elephant, if you’re really feeling up for it. I would be quite loud, though.” 

You’re not quite sure what humans do or do not know. Usually, summonings are quick and short, usually ending with you feasting on the souls of the summoners or the immediate banishing. But this isn’t the usual summoning; there are no teenage kids screaming for their mothers, nor men wrapped in capes who think they’ve found their calling. 

A clatter draws your attention away from the woman and you find a toddler tucked away in a high chair. The child couldn’t have been more than two years old, teething on a strawberry with the remnants of its breakfast laid out in front of her. An oatmeal-covered spoon is on the ground next to the chair. 

Stepping out from the pentagram, you wave your hand and the spoon flies off the ground and lands on the high chair. The child gurgles in delight, grabbing the spoon and throwing it off yet again. 

“This child seems to lack intelligence,” you observe, spinning back to the woman. “Why would it throw the spoon back down? I thought you humans liked using them.” 

The woman unfreezes with a start and continues putting on her shoes. “W-well, you know how toddlers are, always doing something you don’t want them to.” She adjusts herself before putting a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be back in a few hours, it will be a very quick grocery trip. I just need some…peace.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to look after your offspring?” 

“Just for a bit. I’ll be back in a jiffy, alright?” She opens the door and steps out. “There’s food in the fridge for her, diapers are in the drawer under her crib. Just keep her unharmed and alive.” 

And just like that, she’s gone and you’re left with a human baby with a distaste for spoons. You look at the child again in curiosity. Tight, chestnut curls are tied up in two pigtails and her chubby cheeks are stained with strawberry juice. You gently pull at a curl, watching it bounce back into place after you release. 

The child notices this and places your finger into her mouth, gently gnawing on it while cautiously measuring your response. 

“Silly child,” you reprimand gently, pulling your finger back. “That’s not food; if you eat my hand, you’ll get dysentery.”

You snap your fingers and conjure a little black binky for her to gnaw on instead. “Here.” You stuff the binky into the child’s mouth and after a bit of confusion, the toddler starts chewing on it contentedly. 

A smirk crosses your face. “How curious. I wonder what else I could do to you…” 

You sense the presence of another soul before you hear the jingling of keys. They’re inserted into the door, and it opens with a swing. 

“Addie? I’m here— sorry about the wait, the game ran a little long…”

You observe the new figure, a man, clumsily take off his shoes and shove them in the shoe rack. He stumbles towards the living room, dropping a bag off by the couch. 

“Addie?” 

“Are you looking for the child?” you murmur. The man freezes. 

“She’s in her jail,” you continue, floating down from your perch on the ceiling. “I suppose you would call it a crib. The child seemed to grow tired of our games, so I put her to sleep. Temporarily of course— I’m not the reaper.” 

Softly landing on the carpet, you stare at the man’s shocked features, seemingly frozen in time. You tilt your head in confusion. “Well, don’t be too worried. She’ll wake up whenever she feels the need to. I just…coerced her into a nap. It’s not like I can do much else.” 

You extend a hand. “You must be Taehyung. The tired woman mentioned you.” 

Taehyung glanced down at your hand and slowly reached for it. Shaking it, he gulps, “Wh-what? Who?” 

He points from your perch on the ceiling to you. “What?” 

“Oh, that,” you wave towards your previous spot. “I’m just more comfortable that way. It’s usually how I lounge in Erebus but I thought it would make you too uncomfortable to see me like that.”

“Erebus?” He whispers. “Is that like…the underworld?” 

You shrug. “Yes and no. It’s more like another dimension, really,” you say, inspecting his face. “You seem to be sweating. I forgot how temperamental humans are.” 

You chuckle. “It's a little hot in here for you, isn’t it? I tend to run a little warm and the heat might be radiating into the room.”

A bead of sweat drips off Taehyung’s temples and he swipes at it, unfreezing himself. “Oh, I-I guess? I mean, now that you mention it, it’s a little warm.” He shakily looks you up and down. “What are you even? A demon? Oh my God there’s a fucking demon in Adeline’s house…” 

“Ah, so Lily is the child,” you muse. “So Addie— or Adeline, I suppose— must be the mother.” Swooping past Taehyung, you ignore his noises of disbelief. Landing on the kitchen counter, you pour him a glass of water. “She’s in her jail, like I said.”

You beckon a chair to follow you, instructing it to sweep Taehyung into it. He’s pale as a sheet, scrambling onto the chair as he lands in front of you. You hand him the water. “Sip.” 

He obeys, gulping down the water. After he finishes, you take the glass back while he looks at you warily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re not from this world, are you?” 

“No, I’m not. Adeline summoned me to become her babysitter around an hour ago, and she simply left me with her offspring,” you snort. “You humans always do the funniest things.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“I mean, hey, good for her for summoning a blank demon— class III nonetheless! Very baby-safe, I can assure you.” 

Taehyung’s brows furrow. “Addie…summoned you?” 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You chuckle. “At first I was as confused as you are right now, but she quite literally said ‘care for my baby, demon! I will be back’ and left,” you air-quote with your hands. “Said something about being unable to find a babysitter, and I was curious enough about the little one to stay for a while.” 

“So you’re not…stuck here?” 

“Well, no,” you roll your eyes. “I can leave whenever I want. Just how you can leave and enter a door,” you gesture towards the hall, “I can leave and enter this dimension. The summoning just thrusts me here against my will. I can go back whenever I want.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s a bit of a silence as Taehyung collects his thoughts. You listen to the buzz of the refrigerator and the quiet ‘tick-tocks’ of the grandfather clock down the hall; you’re surprised how soothing the monotonous noises are. Maybe the humans are onto something. 

Glancing back at Taehyung, he seemed to relax a little. He fiddles with his hoodie string, gnawing at the end. “Wait so, you won’t hurt us? You said something about being baby-safe.” 

You chuckle. “Yes, I’m very baby-safe. I’m a blank, class III demon. Blank— as in I haven’t developed into a specialty yet— and class III— meaning I’m equipped with the bare minimum of demonic powers.” You shrug. “So yeah, I can do things like make you fly or summon existing objects, but not much else. I’m more of a spirit, really. At least for now.” 

“Huh.” 

Suddenly, you sense a shift in the air and you glance over to the baby monitor on the fridge. Taehyung follows your gaze and jumps up. “Oh, Lily’s awake!” 

He looks over at you, albeit a little warily, and slowly starts walking towards Lily’s room. “Don’t move,” he instructs, pointing a finger at you. “Or else.” 

You put your hands up. “Alright,” you giggle. “How scary!”

Ironic. 

Taehyung glares at you and disappears into the hall. He comes back a few minutes later carrying little Lily in his arm, one hand wiping the drool off of her face. Her eyes light up when she sees you. 

“Puff!” she squeals, reaching for you with two hands. Taehyung holds her back, confused. She’s squirming in his arms, trying to peel away. She whines in annoyance.

You smile. “Yes, child. Puff.” 

A wave of your hand conjures little soot sprites out of the air, the dust bunnies blinking in surprise. The jingle of their movements delight Lily, making her clap as they float down towards her. They scatter around her as she makes attempts to snatch them with her chubby hands. Taehyung keeps her just shy of doing so, though, and it frustrates her. 

“What are they?” he asks, concerned. “Are they your pets or something?”

“They’re soot sprites,” you say softly, waving your hand again and they disappear. Perhaps you should’ve warned Taehyung. “They’re quite harmless, really. Usually residing in abandoned country homes, they’re magical creatures made of soot. They don’t do much but work and exist.” 

Lily wails in dismay as the creatures disappear. You smile apologetically. “I was using them to entertain the child before you got here,” you explain, “which is how she’s so familiar with them. It got her a little dirty, but she seemed to like them enough.” 

“Huh. Cool, I guess.” 

You look over at Taehyung, a little surprised at his reaction. It seems like he’s opening up to some of your antics, which makes you smile a little. 

“Do you mind if I conjure them again?” you ask. “For…Lily.” 

You’re trying to get used to calling the child by her name. 

He nods and places the child on the couch, where you bring the little sprites back. Lily’s eyes widen and she instinctively reaches for them as they float around, surprised once again. 

You and Taehyung both watch her in a comfortable silence, but you can still hear Taehyung’s wheels turning. 

“You know, you can just ask,” you start. 

“Hm?” 

You shrug. “I dunno. It’s not like you see a demon every day, let alone have a demon babysit your niece.” 

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m just trying to process it a little, but I’m just glad you aren’t sent here to hurt us.” 

“It’s not like I could if I wanted to, anyway,” you add. “It’s kind of a development-slash-hierarchy thing. Kind of like your version of puberty? Long story.” 

Taehyung’s lips quirk up. “What do you mean?” 

Before you can answer, though, you hear a jingling of keys and the woman from before swings the door open, shuffling her bags in. She looks around, eyes landing on you and Taehyung. 

“Tae!” she exclaims while shutting the door. She turns back to face you two, walking towards the living room. “And…the demon…-ess? Demoness?” 

“Demon is fine,” you affirm. 

She smiles warily and turns her attention to Taehyung and slaps him on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” he winces, “what was that for?” 

“That,” she starts, swatting away the sprites and picking up her child, “is for neglecting your babysitting duties which ultimately led me to summon a demon.” 

She glances at you. “No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

“But you summoned her yourself!” he splutters in defense. “Freedom of choice and everything—” 

“Don’t even start,” she interrupts, glaring daggers. 

You whistle. “This woman is scarier than me, Taehyung. I would watch out if I were you.” You glance at Adeline. “No offense.” 

She winces. “None taken.” 

“Well, it looks like my services here aren’t needed anymore,” you clap your hands and the soot sprites disappear. Lily frowns. “Not that it was something I expected, but it was kind of fun.” 

Adeline turns to you and smiles softly. “Thank you for everything— I know it was a bit of an inconvenience, but I’m very glad that it turned out how it did. Please come back anytime you want.” 

You laugh. “I’m not sure if I’ll take you up on your offer— I have a lot of training to do back in Erebus— but thank you anyway. Your offspring, Lily, was quite enjoyable.” 

You wave to little Lily— who waves back— and you start walking towards the door for a more “natural” approach to leaving. 

“Wait, hold on.”

You turn around and Taehyung catches up to you. “Are you never coming back?” 

You shrug. “Unless there’s another summoning or if I have a personal reason to. Summonings are tricky, though, it’s a gamble on which demon you’ll get. It runs on an internal lottery system for all demons, so I wouldn’t bet on your chances.” 

He deflates. “Ah.” 

“Maybe you’ll see me, maybe you won’t.” You smile. “It was nice knowing you, though. I’ve learned more about humans today than I ever had at the academy.” 

Taehyung furrows his brows in confusion, but before he has a chance to say anything, you’ve snapped your fingers and disappeared. 

Like before, you let the winds whisk you back to Erebus and you enter with a pop, feet landing on the soft carpet of your room. Glancing at the window, you notice the blood moon starting to rise and your roommate stirs in her sleep. 

Interesting, you think, shaking your head as your horns grow back. You touch them to make sure they’ve come out properly and your wings also make an appearance, the dainty gossamer erupting from your back as you stretch. 

A sigh of relief leaves you as you settle into your own bed, thinking back at what happened. You’ll surely have to go to the Dean tomorrow to explain your absence, but it shouldn’t be something you’re punished for. These summonings are growing more common so quite a few students have been missing this week—  but it’s not something the administration is worried about…yet. 

You roll over to your side, remembering the look on the woman’s face. She was calm for a human— too calm maybe— when she summoned you. Grumbling in confusion, you think. Maybe they’re getting too comfortable with contacting the demonic dimension. 

But you fondly remember how Taehyung’s reaction was much more standard, and you chuckle recalling his sheer fright at the concept of Erebus.

He almost reminded you of a puppy. 

“How cute,” you murmur. 

Yawning, you make a mental note to go to the mortal realm more often. It could do you some good. 

Eyes heavy, you close them and everything goes black.  

[makethatelevenrings]

It’s White and Gold // D. Grayson x f!reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: You would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend for the very first time and you needed something formal to wear. Well, fuck.

Part of assassin!verse but can be read alone

“Well, I think the only reasonable solution here is that I go ask Ivy if she can concoct something that will keep me housebound for a week and we have to cancel the date,” you announced from the other side of the curtain. Stephanie booed as Cassandra tossed a shoe at your feet. You emerged from the thick rayon fabric and sent a half-hearted glare at the three women seated in front of you. You spun in a slow circle, your arms extended at your side to show off the dress Cass had picked out. Barbara glanced up from her phone and scrunched her nose up.

“Nah. Too much sequins. That would be so uncomfortable to eat in,” she declared. You dropped your arms to your sides and grimaced. She was right. The little plastic circles dug into your skin and it would be a bitch and a half to move around in.

“Fuck it. I’m staying home,” you declared.

“Who taught her that word?” Damian sighed as he emerged from the racks. “Right. Todd. I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. May I just say, those sequins are awful.”

“Thank you, tiny Tan France,” Stephanie said. “We get it. It’s a bad dress.”

“Sorry, Steph.” You knew she wasn’t taking the criticism to heart even if she had picked the dress. It was just the first time you would be going on a real date with Dick to some high-end Bludhaven restaurant as both a PR opportunity and as a mission. Rumor had it that a certain politician would be present with one of the largest cartel leaders and Dick needed a chance to bug their dinner and gather intel. 

Which meant that you would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend.

Dick Grayson, the son of the Prince of Gotham. The Heartthrob of Bludhaven.

The man who fell asleep into his oatmeal this morning.

“Is it too late for me to fake my death, change my name, and fall off the face of the earth?”

“Been there, done that,” Damian hummed. “Father can’t possibly do even more of that paperwork. It nearly took him out the first time.”

Cass nodded. “No, no. This could work. He ate the last oreos. Go ahead. Fake your death.”

“No one is faking anyone’s death,” Barbara cut in. “Let’s just try a different store.”

You groaned. “This is the fourth store we’ve tried and we have three hours until reservations. I might as well just go in sweats and call it a night.”

Stepping back into the dressing room, you ignored the bickering outside from your entourage and instead focused on stripping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t have any formal wear. You were never assigned jobs where you needed to get dressed up. Your role was always to hide in the shadows, not to be seen. This was the exact opposite of what your training required and it was starting to grate on your nerves. How could you do this?

As if he could sense your frustration, your phone rang from the pile of your belongings tucked on the bench in the dressing room. You picked it up and glanced at the caller ID, a small smile crossing your lips as you swiped your thumb across the screen and answered.

“Hi, Buttercup,” Dick greeted. Warmth suffused through your veins at his soft greeting and you ducked your head as heat rose to your face. Fucking hell, you had at least seventeen confirmed kills under your belt and Richard Grayson made you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Hey,” you replied. “Are you cool with me wearing a bathrobe and slippers to dinner tonight?”

He laughed and you wished desperately that he was here in this tiny dressing room with you. You wanted to feel his hands enclose around your waist, stroke along your skin, and kiss your temple. You wanted to feel the safety he offered. You had four Batlings sitting on the other side of the flimsy curtain and you had years of training, but you never felt as safe as you did when Dick was near.

“Babe, you could wear one of my old shirts and those cute little shorts you wear and I wouldn’t care. I take it shopping isn’t going well?”

“I didn’t realize Damian religiously watches Queer Eye and Drag Race because you would think I’ve committed the most egregious fashion sins with the options I picked.”

He laughed again and then sighed. “I figured it wasn’t going well since you weren’t home yet. Stop stressing yourself out, baby, I can hear you thinking over the phone. Anything you wear is going to look amazing, okay? Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.”

“But the media…”

“Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck them all. Your comfort is more important than a stupid magazine cover.”

You gave up fighting the grin that spread across your face and shook your head. Holding the phone with one hand, you tugged your pants on with the other. “Okay. We’ll try one more store and if I can’t find anything, I’ll come home and figure it out.”

“Good. I miss you, Buttercup.”

“Miss you too, Westley.”

You hung up so you could pull your shirt over your head (it was actually Dick’s shirt that you had stolen but he wasn’t going to argue) and gathered up your wallet and keys. You emerged from the dressing room to join the others and your little gaggle of Batlings led you to another shop at the mall.

“Wait,” you called once your eyes caught on a mannequin in the window of some store. Steph nearly collided with you when you stopped in the middle of walking. The blonde examined the outfit and a crooked grin spread across her face.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she cooed. “Let’s go try it on.”

Dick kept himself entertained as he waited for you by playing fetch with Haley. Cass and Steph had practically shoved you into the apartment with a bag clutched in your hand, waved at Dick, and disappeared as you darted towards the bedroom before he could say anything. He was glad he already changed into his tux because the clock was inching closer to your reservation time.

The bedroom door creaked with its aged hinges but it was enough to catch his attention. Dick raised his head and promptly lost all ability to breathe, think, and speak. You offered him a shy smile and ran your hands over the soft fabric that clung to your body. A thick strap rested over one shoulder, leaving your neck and arms exposed, and pulled taut across your chest. You had forgone a dress, but the jumpsuit was still formal enough for the restaurant you were attending.

And it was Nightwing blue.

“How does it look?” you asked, your voice quiet with apprehension. Dick sucked in a big gulp of air and he dropped the ball in his hand, sending Haley scrabbling across the wood in pursuit. He rose and crossed the room to stand before you. His hands rose to hover over your hips as his eyes raked over every inch of your body.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. His hands finally came down to settle on your waist and then drifted down to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you into his chest. You laughed at his desperation and eagerness.

“Is that a knife strapped to your thigh?” he murmured against your lips. You fixed the lapels of his suit and smoothed them down, a mischievous smile taking hold of your face.

“Ready to go to work, Mr. Grayson?” you teased.

“I owe Steph my life,” he groaned.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[booboodaddysblog]

If you want something… you will have it…

Warnings: smut, violence, unprotected sex, Julian's character portrayed based on my guesses

Words: 5145

Amanda ate breakfast and scrolling Instagram. She chewed her oatmeal with a sigh every time she touched phone screen. Last night was in her thoughts all the time. Julian Dillinger... yes... messed with her head.

- No, I can't think of him - she said to herself while shaking her head negatively - it was a mistake. Yes, it was a mistake.

She got up from the table to put the dirty dish in the dishwasher. She started the coffee maker and sighed again. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a cup. The day promised to be boring... as usual, anyway.

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She froze listening.

With a slow step, she approached the door and pressed her ear to the cool wood. Again someone knocked, this time harder and more impatiently.

- Open up! - he knocked - I know you're there! - slammed his fist on the door.

Amanda looked fearfully at the door frame and saw that the plaster had cracked slightly from the insistent attempts of the stranger to get inside.

Knocking, or rather banging on her door, however, was not enough for him. He started ringing the doorbell. This, too, was not part of a gentle attempt to get inside.

He held the doorbell button uninterrupted. Amanda plugged her ears with her hands and finally looked through the peephole. She saw a hooded figure. She could not see his face. She was terrified and confused. She had no idea who could be tormenting her at such an early hour. It was bloody 6am!

As the persistent knocking and ringing continued unabated, Amanda's heart beat fast from a mixture of fear and anticipation. Suddenly she guessed who it might be. She expected that Julian Dillinger might be looking for her, but the speed with which he got her address and arrived at her door surprised her.

Taking a deep breath, Amanda slowly unlocked the door and opened it, preparing for the coming confrontation.

- What do you want and how did you get my address? - she said with a serious face.

Julian pushed open the door and stepped inside. Amanda almost fell over.

Amanda's eyes widened in shock when she saw Julian Dillinger standing before her, his imposing figure filling her doorway. The audacity with which he invaded her sanctuary sent a shiver down her spine, making her shake off the sudden invasion of her privacy. Squeezing the edge of the door for support, she muttered again a question tinged with fear and anger.

- What do you want and how did you get my address?

Her voice trembled with every word, reflecting the turbulent emotions swirling inside her. Unfazed by Amanda's hostility, Julian walked past her, his gaze never wavering.

When he entered her home without invitation, he offered her a self-satisfied smile that froze her to the bone.

- Well... - he replied nonchalantly, gesturing vaguely behind him, as if the means by which he had obtained this information were insignificant compared to his present purpose - that is irrelevant now - he shrugged his shoulders.

She stepped back and asked again.

- What do you want from me, Julian?

Amanda's voice trembled as she repeated her question, and her words were interrupted by the quiet clatter of her heels against the wooden floor. Despite her fear, she stood firm, unwilling to give way to the intruder.

He raised an eyebrow at her stubbornness, his expression unreadable under the shadow of hooded eyes. He walked further into the room, seemingly unconcerned with her agitation.

- I just came to claim what is mine - he replied coolly, with a hint of threat in his words.

His gaze stopped on her figure, assessing her with an intensity that made goosebumps appear on her skin. She felt a shudder and trembled.

- You belong to me, Amanda.

- I belong to anyone, Julian!

Amanda's defiant retort echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and resounding in Julian's ears. His lips twisted in a mocking smile as he dismissed her protests with a dismissive wave of his hand.

- Your protests are pointless - he said, approaching her with a slow step - you are mine, whether you want to accept it or not.

As he approached her, she began to pull away from him.

- You can't have me! - she refused, meeting his stern gaze - I will never be yours! Leave me alone! Go away!

Amanda grabbed his arm, trying to get rid of the unwanted visitor. To her horror, his muscles tensed under her grasp, repelling her efforts as easily as if she were a mosquito buzzing against glass. She collapsed. In an instant, Julian hovered over her, crushing her to the floor with the weight of his gaze.

His smile turned into a predatory grimace. As he leaned over her, she felt his hot breath right next to her ear.

- You will soon learn that resistance is futile - he whispered, and in every syllable lurked the promise of pain.

Amanda felt defenseless against his superior strength.

Tears streamed into her eyes. The vulnerability evident on her face was a sharp contrast to the iron determination she had displayed only moments earlier. Julian's smile did not even twitch for a moment. He raised his eyebrow in a silent question, silently daring her to finally say something.

- Why me? - she choked out, her heart pounding in her chest slapping against her ribs.

She tried to remain calm, desperately searching for answers, which he seemed reluctant to give.

- Why did you choose me? - she repeated the question. Her trembling hands clenched into fists.

Julian’s smirk became even more pronounced as he processed Amanda's question in his head. He knew it was better not to say too much, as his words often served as a weapon in the hands of those who tried to manipulate him. Instead, he decided to wield his silence like a blade, cutting through her pleas for understanding with icy precision. He took a step back, allowing himself a moment to observe her trembling form.

The sight of her suffering filled him with a perverse sense of satisfaction, a hunger for control that could never be satisfied.

- You'll find out soon enough - he muttered reluctantly, and his eyes shone with a sinister light.

With this assurance hanging heavy in the air, Julian turned on his heel and headed for the door, leaving Amanda alone with her fears and unanswered questions.

She watched his silhouette slowly disappear into the dimly lit corridor. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken threats and secrets.

The anticipation of his next move made her heart pound in her chest. Each beat was a painful reminder of the precarious situation she was in.

Although fear gnawed at her heart, she refused to give in to her instincts, knowing that submissiveness would only fuel his dominance. Instead, she decided to gather all the information she could about the man. She hoped to find a way to free herself from his grasp before it was too late. With newfound determination, Amanda prepared for the coming battle.

Only time would tell if she possessed the cunning and fortitude required to outwit such a powerful opponent.

——

With a quick step, she crossed the corridor and reached the elevator and impatiently pressed the call button. She continued to look around terrified. Julian really gave her a fright.

- Fuck - she whispered to herself.

She entered the elevator and descended to the first floor. She left the building and started looking around again. She had the feeling that someone was watching her all the time. Suddenly she heard the phone ringing in her purse. She quickly took it out and picked it up.

- Hello? - she whispered. She cleared her throat and started again - hello?

- Miss McKenzie, please report to the director's office as soon as possible - she was greeted by the familiar voice of the receptionist.

- Oh, something happened? - she had no idea what was going on. It never occurred to her that the director wanted to talk to her.

Amanda was overwhelmed by a wave of confusion, and her mind began to work at a higher speed. She began to suspect that it might be about the consequences of Julian Dillinger's sudden appearance in her life.

- I will not answer your question. See you later - she hung up.

- What a... ugh... - Amanda tucked the phone into her purse and headed toward the office building where she worked.

——

As soon as the elevator doors opened on the right floor, she headed toward the director's office. The chill that had been squeezing her heart since her meeting with Julian refused to subside, intensifying as she approached her employer's office. Summoning up every ounce of courage she could muster, Amanda raised her hand and lightly knocked on the polished wooden door.

She did not immediately hear an answer. Only after a while did she hear a quiet voice.

- Please come in.

- Miss McKenzie, it has come to my attention that you have spoken to our number one enemy - the director spoke up. He had no intention of playing "good morning" or "nice to see you."

Amanda swallowed her saliva loudly and looked shocked at her employer. She was completely clobbered.

- Ms. McKenzie, please respond. We don't have all day to do this.

- Emm... I don't understand... where did you... - she started slightly chaotically.

The director slid his glasses down to the tip of his nose and pointed a finger at her.

- You spoke last night with the owner of Dillinger Technologies. How do I know that? It doesn't matter now. Please answer why and what you are talking to Julian Dillinger about? If I do not get an answer to this question, you will be fired immediately. The choice is yours, Ms. McKenzie - the director reached for the coffee mug that stood next to him and sipped without taking his eyes off her - I'm waiting, believe me. I don't have all day.

- I... I... so honestly... he started talking to me. He approached me... invited me to join him... and what we talked about... hmm... he wasn't even interested in what my name was. Mr. Director, it was just... emm... sex - she looked at the ceiling. She was unable to look him in the eye.

- I understand. I mean, I don't understand. What I have learned now... for this moment is enough for me. I hope you will not see Mr. Dillinger again.

- It didn't even cross my mind - she whispered.

- Well, please go back to your business and duties. Ah and one more thing. Does Mr. Dillinger know where you work? This is very important.

- No, Mr. Director. As I said. He wasn't even interested in what my name was.

- Good. Please go back to work.

Amanda left the office, closed the door and loudly let the air out of her lungs. The whole time she was talking to the director she was unable to breathe.

She was given a strict ultimatum, break off any relationship with Julian Dillinger forever or face immediate dismissal from her position at the company.

Despite the obvious consequences, she could not deny the magnetic attraction exerted by his personality, a force that promised both pleasure and danger in equal measure. For the moment, she decided to wait to see what the coming days would bring. But she would certainly have to be very careful lest, once again, someone report her to her employer about her actions in violation of company policy. In a word, it was a nice shot of adrenaline. Finally, her life was a little more interesting.

- Fuck! Fucking wonderful - she cursed under her breath again and moved toward her workstation.

As soon as she sat down at her desk, she got a notification of a new message. She reached into her purse and looked at the screen.

"I hope you like the flowers and chocolates - Julian".

Her eyes got as big as buttons. Her jaw almost dropped to the floor. She looked around to the circle terrified, looking for someone... she didn't know herself who. She looked at the desk and saw a bouquet of red roses and a box of chocolates from the most expensive candy store in town. She opened the chocolates and shoved one fully into her mouth to control the fear that gripped her. She looked at the phone screen again and re-read the message from Julian.

- So he knows where I work - she whispered with her mouth full - damn it - she shoved another chocolate into her mouth.

She started tapping out a message to her stalker.

"You damn stalker, I don't know how you got my phone number, address and information about my workplace. This is not normal. But thank you for the gift. It's a nice gesture - Amanda."

For a moment she waited for an answer, which did not come. But despite her growing impatience, she shrugged her shoulders, put the phone down on the desk beside her and shoved another small calorie bomb into her mouth. She set to work, trying to distract herself from the gnawing sense of anticipation that plagued her.

She answered emails, reviewed documents, and even managed to steal a few moments for a much-needed respite in the form of a cup of coffee. But as the clock ticked, her thoughts invariably returned to the enigma that was Julian Dillinger and the web of intrigue that was now beginning to entwine her life. However, even as she waited for his next move, she did not allow herself to be consumed by fear or anxiety.

Julian's reply finally arrived, but as an e-mail... it was some kind of a joke. Dillinger was making fun of her by even having her private email address. She hesitated for a brief moment before clicking on the new email notification on her computer screen.

"Darling, thank you, for your kind words and calling me a stalker. It's really lovely. You hit the spot. I am a master at this. I assure you that I will surprise you more than once. Let's keep our little secret a secret, shall we? Perhaps we can arrange a more private meeting, just the two of us. What do you think? I would be happy to discuss further ways to... increase your career prospects - Julian Dillinger (your favorite stalker)"

His words were laced with undertones that made her shiver. The reference to increasing her career prospects made her feel both concerned and intrigued. Amanda's hands shook slightly as she composed a balanced response, careful to tread lightly in the precarious dance they now shared.

"Your bossy nature certainly has its charms, Julian. However, I must insist that our conversations remain professional. My work is important to me and I would not want anything to jeopardize it. Perhaps we can explore other possibilities for cooperation that do not involve such.... delicate situations. Besides, the director already knows that we have had contact with each other. He insists that I must stop contact with you. If I do not comply with his request, I will lose my job - Amanda McKenzie (not a fan of stalking)"

She clicked "send." She went back to work, deciding not to write him back right away when he wrote something to her again.

This time she got a notification on her phone. She rolled her eyes and waited a moment to read it.

"Of course, dear Amanda. I apologize if I have caused any discomfort. As you wish, our future communication will be in a more... professional tone. However, I will have to insist on a face-to-face meeting. A simple coffee or lunch will suffice, nothing more. After all, business often grows through personal contacts - Julian."

- After all, business often grows through personal contacts?! What the… - she said to herself, accepting that further contact with him was inevitable. She prepared a carefully worded response to satisfy his desires while maintaining her own tenuous grip on reality.

"I appreciate your willingness to take my concerns into account, Julian. However, I think our conversations and meetings should be kept to a minimum. That is, don't count on us meeting whenever you want us to."

Julian Dillinger's answer came faster than she expected. The message said:

"Ah, Amanda, your restraint is admirable. However, I think there has been a misunderstanding. When I mentioned a personal meeting, I didn't mean business as usual. No, I meant something much more ... intimate."

A shiver ran down her spine as she processed his revelations, but she couldn't deny the illicit thrill that accompanied it. She took a deep breath and responded cautiously, trying to navigate this treacherous terrain with skill and subtlety.

"Your intentions are crystal clear and obvious, Julian."

His response was immediate.

"So you understand me, darling. Our relationship goes beyond the superficial trappings of business and pleasure. In fact, I think it's time for us to explore this bond again. How about dinner tomorrow night? Somewhere private where we can satisfy our hunger cravings unhindered."

His suggestion hung in the air and was inevitable. Amanda thought for a moment before responding.

"I think you promised yourself too much when it comes to our "relationship". Also, I think I was clear about our relationship. I should not contact you. I might lose my job."

She knew she had pushed Dillinger away, but the thought of losing her job seemed uncomfortable.

His answer was unexpected, leaving Amanda stunned by its content.

"Understood, Amanda. For now, focus on your work. But know one thing, our paths will cross again soon. Mark my words."

As much as she wanted to delve into his mysterious declaration, she knew it was better not to push. Instead, she decided to follow his lead, opting to withdraw gracefully. With a heavy heart and a distrustful look, she waited for the next chapter of their twisted tale.

———

Amanda finished her work late in the evening. She packed up her belongings and documents. She rushed to the elevator to ride it down to the lowest floor and leave the office building. She dreamed of going to her favorite restaurant and ordering a delicious dinner to go. She was tired and all she dreamed of now was a warm shower, food and some good movie.

She walked out of the building and stood as if she had been struck. In the parking lot in front of her workplace stood a shiny black Mercedes, and leaning against it was, none other than Julian Dillinger himself. He was smiling mockingly, like a villain planning something truly despicable. And so it probably was.

- You shouldn't be here - Amanda hissed through her teeth - go away, I might lose my job.

Julian pushed himself away from the car and walked closer to her. This time his smile was gentle, one might say eye-catching. And his eyes, stared at her with delight.

- Amanda, I would like to take you out to dinner. I have already reserved a table for us at this famous restaurant with a nice view of the city.

- No - she replied with calmness.

- No? - he raised one eyebrow, as if disbelieving her words.

- No.

- I don't understand.

- What don't you understand, Julian? You don't understand what the word "no" means, and maybe you don't understand that because of you I might lose the trust of my employer, and worse... - she looked him in the eye - I might lose my job.

He remained silent staring at her.

- Julian, I can't hang out with you. Last night was the first and last night we spent with each other. That's all I have to tell you - Amanda turned away from him and headed toward her apartment.

Julian stood motionless staring at Amanda's distant silhouette. Suddenly he moved after her trying to catch up with her.

- Wait! Amanda! I'm not done with you yet! This is not the end of this conversation! - He followed her with a quick step.

- That's the end of the topic! Let it get to you! - she replied without turning toward him. She quickened her step.

- And so I know where you live! You won't get away from me! - caught up with her and grabbed her wrist firmly, thus making her stop.

- Let me go! - she wanted to free herself from his grasp - it hurts! Let me go!

- You shouldn't defy me! - still holding her hand tightly, he pulled her towards the building where she lived.

- Let me go! - she tried unsuccessfully to free herself from him - are you crazy?! Let me go for fuck's sake!

Paying no attention to her protests, he entered the building and pressed the elevator call button.

- I do not agree to you entering my apartment. Let me go!

They entered the elevator, and when the doors closed and Julian pressed the floor number button, he let go of her wrist. Amanda no longer had anywhere to run. She stared at him with rage, rubbing her sore wrist.

- I'm going to get bruises because of you, stupid!

- Stupid? - he let out the air loudly and drew it in again.

The elevator stopped. He grabbed her hand again and pulled her down the corridor toward her apartment.

- Open the door - he said when they were already there.

- No.

- Yes.

- No.

- Yes, fuck! - he grabbed her purse and started looking in it for the keys. He found them - which one is it? Which one opens the fucking door?!

Amanda moved away from him terrified. She could see the madness in his eyes.

Julian looked at the lock on the door and the name that was on it. He started looking through the keys he had in his hand. He found the right one and opened the door.

- Go inside - he said in a calm tone this time - please...

Without taking her eyes off him, Amanda walked inside with a quick step. The door to her apartment slammed shut, echoing in the dimly lit hallway. The two stared at each other as Julian suddenly moved toward her.

His expression was tense with irritation and desire, and his eyes stared at her with an intensity that made her knees bend slightly. Without introduction, he threw himself forward, grabbing her around the waist and pressing her against the cold concrete wall. His mouth crushed her lips in a savage kiss that made her struggle to catch air, but she welcomed the attack, craving the raw passion that burned within him.

Their tongues fought a furious duel, intertwining like snakes in a struggle for dominance.

Julian's hands roamed freely over Amanda's body, tearing at her clothes. The buttons popped off her blouse, and the seams ripped under the pressure of his powerful grasp. Their frantic kisses continued, punctuated by murmurs of desire that echoed through the empty apartment. Each of his touches sent shockwaves surging through her veins, fueling her insatiable hunger. With a low growl, Julian lifted her legs high, positioning himself at her entrance.

His cock pulsed impatiently against her moist folds, impatiently begging to enter the heated cave that awaited him. Moaning, Amanda bit her lip and closed her eyes, preparing for the approaching tornado. Suddenly, he thrust forward with all his strength, plunging into her up to his testicles.

A scream broke from her throat, muffled by their lingering kiss, as waves of pleasure hit them like a tsunami.

Julian slowly backed away. The feeling of their slippery bodies separating sent shivers down Amanda's spine. His eyes focused on hers, filled with a mixture of rage and desire that made her run out of breath. With a growl, he slammed into her again, releasing another loud scream from her mouth, but this time she responded to his thrusts with equal fervor, matching his ferocity with thrust after thrust. Their bodies collided with each other. Each thrust sent electric shocks surging through her nerves, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Even so, Julian showed no mercy, pushing her harder, faster, until she felt the pain, as if he was trying to get through her. Suddenly something inside him snapped, his movements became erratic, unpredictable, chaotic as he rushed mercilessly toward fulfillment.

With a roar of primal rage, he lifted Amanda, higher against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he continued to mercilessly fuck her. His eyes were sinking into hers, filled with a fire so intense that it seemed to burn the air between them. Each thrust sent tremors vibrating through her core, intensifying the waves of pleasure and pain that engulfed her closer and closer. At that moment, time ceased to exist, replaced by nothingness and endless ecstasy.

As if possessed by some sinister force, Julian's hips moved furiously, driving his cock deeper into her trembling, petite body.

Suddenly Amanda's world exploded in a burst of light and sensation as her orgasm swept over her like a tidal wave. Her screams echoed off the walls, mixing with Julian's throaty moans as he found his own release. His semen spilled inside her, hot and pulsing, marking her as his in the most primitive way possible.

For a brief moment, their eyes met, reflecting the raw emotion of their shared experience. In that one moment, they stood over the precipice, staring into the abyss of truth that lay hidden beneath layers of deception and lust.

But as quickly as it appeared, the connection dissipated, replaced by the familiar chill of distance. With a final glance, Julian withdrew from Amanda, leaving her panting and leaning against the wall.

He smoothed his clothes, smiling at the corners of his mouth as he watched Amanda recover. He felt the satisfaction of satisfying his desires. Amanda was an interesting mystery to him. However, he knew that it was better not to dwell on such things. It was unnecessary. He had other plans for her. He gave her a hand to help her balance on her feet.

She looked at his hand wondering if what had just happened was just to satisfy physical needs, or if it was something much deeper. Amanda hesitated for a moment before accepting his help. Their fingers briefly brushed against each other as she once again found support against the hard wall.

- Well - he muttered - that was quite a presentation of the apartment. I am delighted.

He led Amanda toward the living room, his gaze fixed ahead as he moved with ease through the space. Though his demeanor remained calm and composed, the energy between them crackled from the tension left over from their recent passionate encounter. As they entered the brightly lit room, he pointed to a plush sofa whose soft cushions beckoned them to sit down.

- We have a lot to discuss - he said quietly, his voice lacking any note of lightness - and I think it's time for us to delve into matters beyond mere physical satisfaction.

Julian Dillinger plopped down on the sofa, his eyes piercing Amanda's as he leaned forward.

- You're right - he admitted roughly - our previous meeting was... superficial, at best. Hmm... as if it lacked substance.

Amanda merely stared at him, silent. His thumb chalked circles on the armrest, and each turn reflected the whirlpool of emotions swirling inside him. But now, he continued, looking at her with calm eyes, everything had changed.

- Our relationship, that something that connects us, that goes beyond mere desire, has an element of complexity that needs to be explored.

Amanda swallowed her saliva hard, her heart pounding in her chest as she considered his words. She could not deny the sense of kinship that blossomed between them. Nor could she ignore the magnetic attraction that drew them closer and closer together. As if pulled by invisible strings, she sat next to him on the couch, their thighs lightly touching.

- Julian... I...

- Yes? - he leaned slightly in her direction.

- You know we shouldn't...

- Amanda, tell me what is in your head - he closed his eyes and lightly inhaled her scent. Suddenly he pulled away - all in all, yes, you are right - he admitted roughly - yes, we are doing something wrong... after all, we are enemies - he shrugged his shoulders, as if he did not care at all.

He reached out, gently caressing Amanda's cheek with the warmth of his hand.

- There is something about you - he whispered, and his voice was low and sensual, despite the seriousness of their discussion. His thumb drew lazy circles on her skin, sending chills down her spine as she leaned into his touch - I don't fully understand it - he confessed.

His gaze focused on her with an intensity that left her breathless and silent.

- But I know that our destiny is more than fleeting pleasures and stolen moments. We stand over a precipice that one of us can fall into or we can save each other - he continued, his fingers tightening around hers.

He leaned close, his lips brushing the lobe of her ear as he spoke softly.

- We will start tonight - he promised.

- What will we start? - she whispered.

- I want you to be more than just a lover to me, Amanda - he grabbed a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his fingers.

- Yes?

- Sweetest, I want you to be my spy in the company where you currently work. Well… - he laughed - I hope that soon you will work only for me - he nodded to himself - yes... I want to take over your entire corporation.

Amanda's eyes got big. She stared at Julian in disbelief. She couldn't say a single word, not even thinking of a whole sentence.

- You can't - she said in a barely audible whisper.

- I can, my dearest, I can do everything - he leaned over her and kissed her gently but deeply.

It was then that Julian Dillinger revealed his true intentions toward her and the company where she worked. Revealing all the worst. He wanted them to embark together on a journey full of danger and uncertainty.

———

@ladyjpm