#but these three should be different enough to keep me occupied for a while

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part three.

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: jace takes you on your first flying lesson. · word count: 5,645

He'd already woken up in a sour mood at the prospect of having to waste his day at your side, yet again, while he teaches you how to ride something you've no business having in the first place.

He'd swallowed it down, however, with specific plans in mind for this afternoon.

He would show you first how it's done, soaring through the skies with ease atop Vermax. His dragon would breathe great plumes of fire, which he'd then swoop directly through without an ounce of fear.

Once he landed, you would look at him with awe and reverence, begging him to take you up next.

He'd intended for today to be less of a headache. The two of you would not spend it arguing.

It would, instead, be similar in nature to how you'd ended the night last: calmly, Jacaerys kindly teaching you Valyrian terms he assumes you may have interest in knowing, and with a gentle touch. Or mayhaps a few...

Instead, when he'd sent for you, you'd not been in your chambers.

You'd, apparently, gone out to walk along the beach with your guard, as if this is all some sort of holiday away from home.

His ire had been promptly stoked, and had turned to seething rage as he watched from the castle's walkway as the two of you conversed and touched one another.

You, placing a hand upon the man's chest, and he upon your arm, your lower back, your waist. You merely smiled like an empty-headed idiot all the while.

As if you are unfamiliar with the ways of wanton men.

He should have the knight's hands cut off for such an offense. For touching that which he is not meant to have.

Not that you are spoken for—Jace has had few words with his own betrothed the last few days, always claiming to be otherwise occupied—but your priorities lie elsewhere now. Not in taking long walks on beaches with...rough-handed men.

He shall begin the day by teaching both of you a lesson then.

Jacaerys clenches his jaw, tightening his grip around the pommel of his sword as he comes ever-closer, gritting his teeth at the sound of you laughing contentedly at what he's sure is an ignorant joke the knight has just told you to earn your approval.

And then he does it again: touches your back, sliding his palm along it, keeping you somewhat close to his side.

Too close.

Jacaerys plants his booted feet firmly in damp sand, settles his arms behind his back, and clears his throat.

You jump in surprise.

"Ser Myles," he says, glancing to the knight's arm, before meeting his eyes once more. "Is that any way to treat the young woman you've been tasked with the protection of?"

His hand suddenly falls away, and your brows furrow.

"Forgive me, My Prince, I meant no harm by the gesture."

Jacaerys takes a step forward. "No, I think you meant something entirely different."

Your eyes flit between the two men, while your heart begins to pound in your chest at the boy's insinuation.

Myles remains silent, so Jacaerys shrugs dramatically. "What? Nothing to say for yourself, then? You are given the duty of keeping her safe, and she's here not even a week, and already you are being untoward. How should I see such an action? Hm?"

You step in front of Myles, putting yourself between the two of them. "He was merely keeping me company while I collected shells. He's done nothing wrong."

Jacaerys stares you down. "You will address me properly, and you will hold your tongue. You speak only when spoken to, is that understood?"

You ball your hands into fists before crossing your arms.

Jacaerys settles his gaze upon Myles then, loathing him all the more for his handsome smattering of dark facial hair, his tanned face, his broad form.

As if he'd not already felt insecure enough, day-by-day he wishes more and more to crawl out of his own skin. This one is no different, and he'd so prayed it would be.

Myles speaks. "I assure you, My Prince, no disrespect was intended toward Y/N. We were only—"

Jace raises his brows incredulously.

"You seem on quite comfortable terms with my—" He pauses, but only for the briefest of moments. "One of my mother's dragonseeds."

"How else is he meant to address me?" You ask, interrupting once again.

Jacaerys steps closer to you, forcing you to lean your head back to meet his eyes. "You will be silent."

He looks to Ser Myles, jerking his head toward Dragonstone. "You are dismissed."

The man bows his head, glancing to you for but a moment while you give him a sympathetic look in return, before he steps away.

Your eyes are full of fire when they meet Jacaerys' once more. "That was entirely uncalled for."

He grabs you roughly by the arm, glaring at you.

"My Prince," he hisses.

You yank your arm from his grip, sneering at him—and, as you've finally had it with his insufferable ways; his condescending, haughty attitude, you tell him what you really think.

"Royal arsehole!" You shout, stomping away.

His jaw drops, his mind going blank at your display of sheer disrespect.

"W—What did you just call me?!" He yells shrilly.

He races to catch up to you, repeating himself.

"What did you just call me?!" He shouts, his voice echoing across the water.

You pay him no mind as you throw a lock of hair over your shoulder, holding your head high as you continue swiftly walking away in the other direction.

His patience now at its end, he grabs you by the wrist, and begins pulling you back toward the castle. "You insolent little harlot! You'll pay for that! I could have your tongue for such—"

You try to yank yourself away again, but he holds firm, turning back to you with flared nostrils and a set jaw.

"You want to know what I think?!"

"No! I don't think I particularly do! But what I know—" he says, stalking toward you while you shuffle your feet to get away, desperate for him to release you. "Is that this behavior ceases—today!"

He shoves you into a narrow alcove, putting the two of you out-of-sight.

He pushes you into the side of the cavern, and you dare to push him back—shoving against his chest, once, twice—before finally raising a hand to him, which he quickly catches in his strong grip.

He pins you against a damp stone wall, his face mere inches from your own as his warm breath fans over you—combating the cold of the sea while he holds your hands above your head.

"If you ever raise a hand to me again," he says lowly—quietly—his body now flush against your own. "I will take it. What you just did is treason."

He positions his lips next to your ear. "Go on, then. Try me. See how far I let you get after such a stunt. You think me weak? Easy to strong-arm?"

He squeezes your wrists painfully.

"I doubt it. You've no idea who you're testing. I am your future king," he spits. "And you will obey me, you little bitch."

He pulls back, his brown eyes boring into your own. "You think your comely looks make you special? Think they're all you need, so as to easily fool and take advantage of men? To get your way?"

He leans in closer. "I am not so easily corrupted."

Your lip twitches and he curls his own in response.

"What do you think are laughing at?" He barks.

You glance down, to where his erection is firmly pressed against your stomach, then back into his eyes. "I was going to tell you that I think you jealous."

You glower at him. "And merely a green boy who has no idea what in Seven Hells he's doing."

He looks down then as well, and his face goes starch-white.

He stutters, desperately grasping for words, for explanation, for any feeling that isn't utter mortification, before he looks at you again.

You raise a brow, a bored expression now having overtaken your features as you wait for him to decide what he wants to do with you.

You're sure you already know.

Finally, he growls. slamming your arms against stone one last time before releasing you, adjusting himself, then stalking away, leaving you alone...and trembling.

It's some time before you return to the castle.

You'd wished to cool down first, so you'd waded through the sea for awhile—only up to your ankles in the cool saltwater—as you gathered further shells for your sister. But no pearls, quite expectantly.

You're unsure that you regret what occurred with the prince this morn.

Regret for his sake? Never. For your own? Were you not a dragonrider...you would already be dead by now.

You need be far more careful in the future. Your pride is not worth more than your life. Not when you have others depending upon you to make it home to them. To look after them once you have.

Wish that you could remain out here all evening, but, before long, you catch a chill and begin heading inside so as to get warm again in front of the fire.

What had the royal pain in your arse even wanted in the first place, anyway? Had he really come all the way outside and across the beach just to chastise another man for touching you?

You throw yourself back on your bed, not much caring.

He is a child playing at being a man. Nothing more.

Even if those same...manly parts had stirred something inside of you.

As if he is your usual type.

No. He is insufferable.

Jacaerys rubs feverishly at his throbbing erection, his eyes closed—free hand firmly gripping the wall as he works desperately toward his release.

He imagines you bent over his lap as he wails against your backside until it is lovely shades of blood-red and purple, while you beg either for more, or for his mercy.

My Prince, Gods, My Prince...

His lip twitches, turning into a pleased grin as you beg for him.

I will obey, I swear it by the Seven, you whine.

None else shall touch me, you whisper.

Only you, you moan, making him a solemn vow.

He struggles to picture what the rest of you might look like. Your breasts are not much of a quandary for him—he has seen wet-nurses tending to his younger brothers—but rather between your legs.

He is still yet...unaware.

And you had read him like a book on that, hadn't you? More than once. It is humiliating: for you, a girl, to know more than he. About anything.

He imagines you pinned to that wall again, your dress—one of soft grey and pearlescent white he'd chosen for you—in tatters at your feet as you stroke and please him...with your mouth.

That is certainly one way to earn your silence, he muses.

And he much enjoys it.

"Gods, Y/N," he whispers heatedly, wanting you in here with him instead.

He—fuck—he needs you. Needs you on your back, on your knees, on your belly, in every which way. Wants...wants you to teach him. To pleasure him. To allow him to pleasure you. To—to...

"Oh, Gods, yeeees," he drawls, his hot, thick cum spurting out of the tip of his weeping, purple cock as he fills with relief.

His strokes eventually slow, before ceasing altogether, a long tendril of cum hanging from his erection, which he rubs his thumb over.

His body feels hot all over, his cheeks are flushed, and his heart is hammering away in his chest, but Gods, could he use yet another round.

Apparently three had not been nearly enough...

But he knows the day is still young, and you still need him to teach you how to ride Silverwing.

That is what he needs, he thinks, as he cleans himself up. To ride the skies. It will get him out of his head. Will cool him down. Will distract him.

He knows what he truly wants, however...

Something which he will never admit.

Even if the evidence lies plainly before him on an old rag...

There is a knock at your door, interrupting you from your current task of washing off your sister's shells.

You pad toward the door, then blank when you open it, to find Prince Jacaerys standing on the other side.

He tosses you a bundle of clothes, which you barely manage to catch within your arms.

"Put these on," he commands, shoving past you, shutting the door firmly behind himself.

You turn, watching as he pours himself a glass of water, which he drinks down greedily before pouring another, seating himself at your dining table.

"W—what?"

He looks at you with a bored expression. "Are you deaf?"

You look at the clothes—which are all leather and thick velvet, with light fur—then back to him. "What're these for?"

He shrugs a shoulder lightly. "You'll see."

He nods toward your changing screen. "Now, put them on. I won't ask again. We don't have all day."

You briefly consider telling him that, without his little outburst, perhaps whatever new lessons you're about to be given could've been started sooner, but refrain.

You'll need bite your tongue more often from now own, lest you lose it altogether. And then how will you command Silverwing in battle?

In truth, you'd rather not think on the issue too long.

Every day that passes where you are not forced back into the dragonpit to finally learn how to ride her is a great relief. Even if it leaves you on the edge of your seat, waiting with dread for when you're finally summoned to do so.

You shift on your feet, clutching the clothing to your chest. "I need privacy."

He rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his water. "There is a screen, and I hardly intend to look. Now, do as your prince commands."

Royal prick, you think, walking behind the sheer screen, setting your new garments down.

You know looking is precisely what he means to do. Elsewise, he would not still be in here.

Boys.

Jacaerys, to his credit, tries to look out the window instead, but staring at a pane of glass is not why he'd come. It's like he can't fucking help himself. And he feels shameful for it. Nevertheless, he does it anyway.

He watches.

Watches as a candle casts your form in a soft shadow against the screen.

Watches as you remove your gown, and then your smallclothes, leaving you bare—Jace only having his imagination to picture what is on the other side.

There is the soft swell of your breasts, a tuft of hair above your pelvis, your round backside that he'd pictured in his mind's eye but a few minutes earlier as he spanked it raw. Your supple thighs, the feminine curve of your waist.

He glances nervously to the doorway.

If he were to be caught with you like this... He does not want to imagine the fallout that would ensue between not just he and Baela, but between his mother and her father.

And he knows he's enough of a coward that he would place the blame entirely at your feet.

He wants to convince himself he would do otherwise, but doubt clouds such convictions.

He looks back, watching as you pull on your new riding pants, and he adjusts himself over his own, his cock filling with blood...again.

He shakes his head, standing, stepping across the room to stare outside.

He needs to throw himself into the sea for awhile. A long while.

Finally, you clear your throat, interrupting the silence.

Jacaerys turns back to you, pleased that it all seems to fit. It'd been a measure his mother had ordered from their servants: to have you fit for new garments once you'd claimed Silverwing.

He comes toward you. "How does it feel? Are the boots too snug?"

You walk in a few small circles and his lip twitches at the sight, before you come to a stop, looking at him.

You shake your head. "I think they're fine."

He gently tugs against the hem of your tunic before circling you, looking you over—every inch.

When he's standing before you once more, he gives you a small nod. "Follow me."

Your eyes widen in terror as Jacaerys leads you toward the dragonpit.

"W—where're we—what're we—going—doing?"

Jacaerys keeps on, growing nearer and nearer to that familiar set of large double-doors. "Today, you will learn how to fly your new mount. You needn't worry, I will be on Vermax and—"

You stop in your tracks, fighting back tears. "I—I don't want to."

He barely looks at you as he grabs you by the forearm, dragging you forward, closer to those doors.

Doors you thought you'd never walk out of. Doors that had trapped you and dozens of others inside a dark room while two blood-thirsty beasts feasted upon them.

You can still hear the screams.

Can smell the fire—the thick, black plumes of smoke which had threatened to choke the life from you.

You see their flesh falling from their bones.

Can hear one man crying for his mother.

Another girl crying for her baby.

When those same doors close behind you, you panic.

You wrench your arm away from him and run in the opposite direction. You're not thinking. Or you are, but only of survival.

He yells after you, but you hardly hear it. All you do is the screams. The roars of the dragons. Death rattles.

You hide yourself away in a dark corner, clamping your hands over your ears, rocking back and forth, willing it to be over.

It will all be over soon...

You squeeze your eyes shut, making yourself as small as possible.

You want your father.

Your mother.

Your little girl. You want to hold her one last time. Please, Gods, please.

"Look at me!"

It is only once he has pulled your hands away from your ears that you realize you're screaming.

Jacaerys takes your tear-stricken face between his palms, his eyes searching your own. "You're safe! She won't hurt you, you have my word!"

"Please!" You beg him as you choke on your tears. "P—Please, My Prince, I beg of you! Gods, I'm so sorry! Y—You're right: I'll be obedient! A good little girl—your whore—whatever you wish! I'll obey you, I swear it! Please, please, I have to leave!"

His heart breaks at the sight of your crumpled face—your violently shaking body—the words you offer him. You'd do anything he says in this moment, you're that frightened of what his mother had subjected you to.

And to think that he'd sniggered at the idea of feeding you to Vermax...

How could he have?

"My little girl! I want my little girl!" You cry, trying to push past him, your eyes set on those large doors, until he pulls you against his chest—the two of you collapsing in a tangle of limbs as he holds onto you with all his might.

He shooshes you, smooths your hair with his hand, rocks you gently.

"You're safe, you're safe," he repeats so many times that he quickly loses count of just how many.

"She is your dragon now," he tells you with wide eyes, "She will obey you. She means you no harm. She chose you. Wants you to be her rider, the sole body who commands her. You can trust her, I swear this to you."

You shake your head, not wishing to listen.

"I am here!" He shouts. "I won't allow any harm to befall you, you have my word, Y/N! As long as you are with me, you are safe!"

You break into a fit of sobs, clutching at his chest.

"So sorry, so sorry, so—"

He cradles the back of your head, tears stinging his own eyes.

His mother had stood there and watched. Had watched like it was some marvelous spectacle, instead of dozens of people fighting for their lives after coming to offer her their aid.

And he had been grateful for their deaths. All those people. They'd...they'd had families, too. They'd been unaware of what they were walking into.

He is a monster, he realizes, feeling ill.

After some time, you begin to quiet, your sobs turning into quiet hiccups, your body drained.

"I don't..." You trail off, unsure what you even want to say.

He tightens his arms around you.

"You...you did not say... That you have children."

He is not pleased by it, but also not entirely surprised. So, you've a bastard child with a man who chose to leave you both behind. He is not sure if that says more about you, or he.

Your brows furrow.

"What?" You ask quietly.

"You kept begging...for your little girl."

You slump against him.

"My little sister," you explain.

"My father died when I was young. And after...my mother became a ghost of herself. It became my responsibly to look after us all. No matter that I was still a child myself. There was this night..."

You grow quiet for a moment before continuing.

"I was reading to my sister in bed. She...she called me 'mama'. I didn't...know what to do with that. So, I let it go. Until she did it again. My mother didn't even care. I tried, gently, to explain to her not to refer to me by that term, but she didn't seem to grasp the things I was telling her. Why she shouldn't."

Jace rests his cheek against the crown of your head.

"Somewhere along the way, I began to think of her as my daughter. Maybe she is now. I don't know. I just... I miss her more than I can bear. I feel like a piece of my chest is missing now. I want to be back with her."

Jace swallows down the lump in his throat. "My younger brother, Luke... Aemond killed him. I did not...act as a father to him, necessarily, but I looked after him. Tried to teach him. I miss him every day."

You gingerly take one of his hands in your own.

"I heard about that... Storm's End?"

He nods.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your hair. "Me as well."

A beat of silence.

"I know you do not wish to, but you have to learn."

You stir in his arms, so he holds you close yet still.

"I will ride with you. On Silverwing. I promise you—I swear to you—that she will bring you no harm. Dragons bond with their riders. You'll feel it before long. It's...difficult to explain. But if the day came when she needed give her life for yours," he says, pulling away, cupping your cheek. "She will. That is what you mean to her now."

Your chin wobbles. "I don't want her."

"She wants you. Has chosen you."

"How...how do we let someone else claim her instead?"

He shakes his head. "That isn't how it works. A dragon may only take a new rider once its previous one has passed. That is the only way the bond is broken."

Your heart sinks. "Oh."

A tear slips from your eye, sliding down your cheek. "I don't want to die."

He frowns.

"I know. None do. But..." What is he supposed to tell you? A dragon was never what you'd come here for. He has no words of comfort for you, and it makes him feel all the worse for it.

"I wonder if Maisily would like her."

You smile slightly.

"I'd like to think she'd be braver than I."

He presses a kiss to your forehead. "After what you endured...you're not a coward. I'm...sorry. That you must live with it now. Truly."

Your eyes meet his again. "Do we truly have to?"

He nods slowly. "I'm afraid so. But, as I said, I will be with you the entire time."

You clutch at the material of his soft tunic. "Were you scared...the first time?"

He tips your chin up with his index finger, grinning. "Terrified."

That makes you feel somewhat better.

Finally, he stands, taking your hand within his own, lacing your fingers together. "Come, I think it is time for a proper introduction."

You practically cling to Jace's side as the two of you stand at the edge of the platform which overlooks the dragonpit.

Your body shakes violently, while tears well in your eyes. You fear you may vomit all over him.

"Call her," he tells you gently.

You stare up at him, your nose red and eyes bloodshot, and shake your head.

He slides his hand down your arm, lacing his fingers between your own for comfort. He squeezes your hand securely.

"Call to her. I'm right here. No harm will come to you, I promise."

Reluctantly, you tear your gaze away from him, looking out at that black, bottomless pit, afraid of what is to be found in the looming darkness.

You hide yourself half-behind his arm.

"Silverwing," you call quietly.

He frowns. "Tell her 'Māzīs, Silverwing'."

You grip his sleeve tightly.

"It means come," he explains.

"M—" You shut your mouth, humming with fear.

"Try again," he encourages.

In truth, he doesn't entirely mind you taking so long to accomplish this one simple task. The more time it takes you, the longer you'll cling to him for safety.

He much likes that you do in the first place.

That you see him as a protector in this way.

"Māzīs, Silverwing," you call, a few octaves louder, to no response.

"With conviction," he explains.

You squeeze his hand so tightly it hurts, but he says nothing of it.

"Māzīs, Silverwing!" You shout.

And then there is a deep rumbling, and something shifting in the dark.

You squeak, stepping behind Jace entirely, fisting the material of his tunic in your hands as you hold yourself against him.

You shut your eyes, burying your face in the middle of his back.

His lip twitches, eventually turning into a full-blown contented smirk at the feel of you so very close to him.

"Tell her to sit."

"You do it," you mumble.

He rolls his eyes. "She is your mount, not mine. She needs answer to you alone. Elsewise, she will grow confused. It would not do well to have her responding to other riders while in battle."

"Then we won't go to battle. We'll stay here. Where it's safe."

He nearly snorts.

"Demās," he whispers. "Sit."

You peak out from behind him, then blanch when you see your dragon already staring at you.

Her blue and silver scales shimmer against the light of the lit braziers which surround you. At least she's pretty to look at... If not also terrifying.

"She's waiting for you," he presses.

"Demās, Silverwing."

There is a resounding thump, and then a soft clicking coming from her.

"Good, now you may mount her."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

He turns, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "I will show you how it's done."

You watch nervously as Jacaerys climbs onto your dragon with ease, seating himself comfortably before looking down to you, beckoning you up with his hand.

You shift on your feet, glancing to the doorway, then back to him.

"I will be with you the entire time. Just come. Please."

You take a small step forward, and then another and another, shoving down the urge to run screaming in the other direction all the while as you plant your feet against her side, your hands gripping her slippery scales while you stare up at him.

Jacaerys gives you an encouraging smile. "Good, just like that. Now climb."

You frown, but obey nonetheless, knowing you've no other choice.

You struggle—losing your footing every few steps, but you hold firm, eventually taking Jacaery's outstretched hand, and he pulls you up, and you fall into his chest.

You flush. "Sorry."

He shakes his head, smoothing hair away from your face.

"No harm done. Now," he nods toward the saddle. "Sit, so I can adjust your restraints."

"What...what about you?"

He grins. "I've been at this for some time. I'll be perfectly well."

"You're not...you're not afraid of falling off?"

"Not at all."

You wait patiently—silently—as Jacaerys pulls tight a large leather strap across your waist.

"How does that feel?"

You tug against it, and are pleased to find it doesn't budge. "Good. It feels secure. I think..."

He nods, sliding closer until his chest is flush against your back. He wraps an arm around your waist while his other hand comes to rest atop your thigh.

"Tell her to stand."

You stare ahead dumbly, your mind blank. You don't want her to stand. Don't want her to fly. You want to go back to your room.

"Maybe...maybe tomorrow we could—"

"No, today."

You swallow thickly.

He pulls a lock of hair away from your shoulder, bringing his lips close to your ear. "I won't allow any harm to come to you. Neither will she. She is your protector now."

He pauses. "As am I. For...for today, that is."

Tears fills your eyes.

You want to get down.

You want your little girl.

"Can you hold my hand again?" You whisper.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, twining his fingers between yours once more.

"Now, stand."

You chew your lip. "That's the one you were mean to me over, right? You said..."

You trail off. You can't remember the word now. Only that he called you a simpleton when he told you to say it, and you'd not known what word to supply him with in return.

"Iōrātās."

You nod. "Silverwing, iōrātās!"

She begins to rise and your eyes go wide, your heart jumping into your throat.

"Oh—oh Gods. I don't—"

The two of you rock from side to side before leveling again.

"Tell her to go forward."

A beat of silence.

"Naejot, Silverwing!"

 She begins heading toward a doorway, which begins to slowly open.

Jacaerys had arranged for the dragonkeepers to at least do that much.

He was irritable enough when he went to them to make arrangements for this afternoon. If they'd refused his orders...

It is once Jacaerys can see clearly outside that he speaks again. "Tell her to fly."

"I—I can't do that. We need to get down now, I think."

He cups your cheek, leaning in close to your ear. "All is well, I promise. Trust me. Just this once."

You keep your mouth shut, refusing to give her the order.

"Sōvēs," he tells you.

You remain silent.

He sighs. "Do you think she enjoys being trapped in here all hours of the day? Do you know how long it's been since someone has ridden her? Let her show you the skies. Allow her that privilege."

You fill with guilt then.

You drag your fingertips lightly along her scales.

You've a dragon... What a ridiculous thing for someone like you to possess.

It will not last.

It does not matter if Jacaerys believes otherwise. She chose wrong. And you will prove it to him.

"Silverwing, sōvēs!" You shout with confidence.

And immediately fill with regret, your dragon instead proving you wrong.

She takes off, practically running toward the open doors, flapping her wings, and you shriek in terror, doubling over and hiding your face in your hands.

Jace holds you tightly, encouraging you to look, but you refuse, instead waiting for it to all be over.

You know you are airborne when everything becomes weightless and she steadies beneath you.

"Look, Y/N. Open your eyes!"

You shake your head. "No! We—You should tell her to land. I got her to fly like you said!"

He reaches forward, prying your hands away from your eyes—finding you to be stronger than you look, but you are, nevertheless, no match for him.

You keep your eyelids closed tight, refusing to give him what he wants.

"Open! That is an order from your prince!"

He says it with a grin, and with a playful tone, so as not to frighten you further, but you still whimper in fear.

He gives you another soft kiss upon your silver hair—loose strands of which lash against his face, tickling him.

"I want us to experience this together," he tells you lowly, his hand sliding along your stomach, fingers curling inward.

"You are a dragonrider now, you should see...what sorts of pleasure it may bring you."

Just then, you feel something long and hard pressing into your lower back and your eyes pop open in surprise. You turn back to him, only to find him smirking in contentment. "I see you've finally chosen to properly join me."

You give him a look of disbelief before turning back round.

And then you gasp in amazement—at the large, endless expanse of clear blue sky that surrounds you. It, and a handful of fluffy white clouds are all which remain in all the world from up here.

"I'm—"

He wraps his arms around your upper body, pulling you back against him.

"I'm flying!"

His eyes flutter closed, a smile settling upon his lips to hear you so pleased.

"I'm flying, Jace!"

He beams at you addressing him by a shortened, more familiar version of his name; that you did not so much as hesitate to do so.

"We're flying," he replies as you soar through the skies together.

[ilythena]

𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 || 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM after spending a night in a small island, luke keeps seeing you everywhere he goes.

SMUT! Fem!reader, let’s just pretend alcohol is free for them, reader is not a human, oral (?), p in v, obsession, praise, Luke is a pussydrunk FOOL, definitely submissive Luke over here guys, one night stand turned spooky….readers a succubus? Idk guys I just like writing smut… this will probs have a part 2

♪ CANDY - DOJA CAT

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Jack sighs as the flight attendant announces that they would unfortunately have to stay a night in this random island after the plane had difficulties.

The plan was simple, get on the plane to Australia, stay there for a few days, and then fly back to New Jersey. But like his life, things were never easy for him.

Luke groans in annoyance as the flight attendant looks at him with guilt on their face even though everyone knew it technically wasn’t their fault, and set them up for three different hotel rooms a few minutes away from the airport they had to emergency land in

“Well, at least they weren’t shitty enough to just leave us without rooms and put us somewhere” Nico says and the two brothers huff in dissatisfaction

“Come on! Cheer up! Like, let’s go out to a club! They gotta have one somewhere on this island.” He says and while everyone’s not pleased at their situation, they begrudgingly agree to his plan.

After a while and everyone’s settled, they google a club, look at the reviews, and luckily it was in walking distance so they wouldn’t have to pay for anything.

They get in there and the place is full of tourist and some locals scattered around the place, and it was actually kind of fun. Everyone was letting loose of the tense atmosphere they had earlier.

“Hey, I’m gonna go search for the bathroom! I’ll be back!” Jack shouts to Luke over the music and Luke nods his head in agreement. As jack’s seat next to Luke suddenly becomes empty, it quickly becomes occupied again as you slip into the seat

Well, more like your friend pushed you there after you’ve been eyeing the curly head the second he stepped into the resort you were staying in, but same thing.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you like that.” You say and straighten up his sleeve before he could do it himself. “…it’s fine. You’re fine.” He says and he could feel his breath suddenly getting caught in his throat at the sight of you next to him.

Your eyes capture him in a way he can’t escape, shining and glimmering under the clubs lights and he’s stuck, trying to tear his eyes away from yours and despite how hard he tries it’s impossible.

“You from here?” You say, moving your tone to a more flirtatious one as he shakes his head no. “You look a little overwhelmed…why don’t we step outside for a minute? Get you some air…” you whisper into his ear, pulling him close to you by his collar and Luke’s mouth is moving quicker than his mind as he chokes out a yes.

Before he realized it, you two were outside on the beach right next to the club, the waves crashing down onto the shore and the dress you’re wearing is slipping down your shoulders that Luke can’t tear his eyes off of.

“I never got your name? And honestly you didn’t get mine either.” You giggle and that’s what brings him down from his cloud of ecstasy, suddenly flustered that he’s out with a stranger. What about Jack? What if him and Nico are looking for him?

“U-um, my names Luke, I’m sorry, I don’t think I should be out here-“ he says and you silence him with a toothy grin that has his heart hammering against his chest

“Y/n. What’s stopping you? Got a lady back home?” You say, bringing your hands up to rub his chest and he fucking melts, you could tell he’s an awkward one, but that’s how you like them.

“N-no…..forget I said anything” he mumbles and despite the faint background music from the club, you could still hear him due to your proximity.

Looking into your eyes again, Luke can feel himself slipping into a foggy mindset. It’s like he can’t control himself despite not even knowing who you are.

A Deep feeling of anxiety swirls in his stomach, but lust quickly takes over him as he feels your lips press into his. Your teeth slightly biting into his lower lip makes his mouth drop open and you take that chance to shove your tongue into his mouth.

He moves his hands down to your waist and whines into the kiss as you reach your hands up to tug at his hair, the two of you kissing in the middle of the beach as if there wasn’t anyone else in the world.

Your plan was almost ripped away from you when you part away from him for air, and he gets a text as soon as you take your first breath away from Luke.

Jack 🏒

Didn’t think you were that type of person lukey 👀

Be safe!

You quickly shove his phone back down away from his eyesight so you can ensure that you can get Luke in your hands for good.

“Don’t worry about it, whatever it is.” You say grabbing him by his chin and redirecting his vision towards you. “Take me to your hotel? I’ll show you how we do it over here” you whisper and he takes you by surprise when he drags you towards the place.

You two messily stumble into his room and you don’t hesitate to get your mouth on his again, reaching for the bottom of his shirt and moving it upwards to rub his stomach and fidget with his belt at the same time.

You shove him down onto the bed and his face is astonishingly red, the bulge in his shorts making them unbearably tight.

He moves your hands out the way to take his belt off and you stop him, “you’re not gonna ask me? And here I am thinking you’d be obedient.” You tsk and he hesitates “what do you want me to do?” He whispers and you don’t skip a beat telling him to beg for it.

Attaching your lips to his neck, he lets out a small moan he was desperately trying to hold back and lets out a quiet please. “Please what? Ask me properly.” You demand and he shakily obeys “please, please take my shorts off.” He says and you finally shake them down his ankles to which he very swiftly kicked off.

“Good, knew you could do it for me.” you purr out and he huffs as you start to palm him through his boxers “please take those off too” he groans out, with a giggle you gently take his cock out and a hiss is heard through the room as the cool air hits his tip. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you pump him and small puffs of air escape his lips before you spit down on it to give him more lubrication

“Fuck, I’ve never- never been this fucking hard from a handjob before.” He moans out, another smiling snicker along with a kiss below his ear has him crumbling completely.

“C-can I mention how this isn’t fucking fair at all? I have my whole dick out and you’re fully clothed. Not really equal over here” he whines and you hum. “Want me to take my tits out?” “Dear god please do. Wanna see them so bad.” He breathes out and flinches when you swat his hand away when he tries to reach for your chest

“No touching.” You state and he grins, “really? Not gonna let me touch your chest, but you’re jerking me off- oh” he cuts himself off when you run your thumb over his tip as a gentle reminder that you expect to take control here.

“You have an attitude on you. I’m gonna take that away, but for now I guess I’ll give you what you want…” you say as you slowly move your dress down your shoulders to reveal yourself to him. You roll your nipple between the fingers of your free hand and he swears he can feel himself about to drool.

“Fuck, please? Can I at least put my mouth on them? You’re gonna kill me.” He grumbles out and you play pity on him, sliding your dress off and straddling him so you can push your panties to the side and rub himself between your folds.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll let you.” You state and he immediately latches onto your left boob, groaning in both disappointment and excitement when he feels your hand move him near your entrance

You can feel the vibrations of his muffled gasps when you rub his tip against your clit, anticipation biting Luke in his gut waiting for you to finally put him inside.

“Mmm, it’s so close, would be so easy to-“ “you’re getting bratty. Keep it up and I won’t hesitate to hold off your orgasm tonight.” You bark out, interrupting him. “Fuck, ‘m sorry” he mumbles, wiping the drool off his mouth and leaning back

“Oh fuck” he suddenly whimpers out when you finally have enough and slip him inside of you. When he reaches for you for a second time you have enough and pin his hands to his bed.

“Gonna pin me to the bed? H-oh god” he cuts himself off and you smile in satisfaction, knowing that he’s giving up that ‘wanna be dominant’ attitude.

The room is full of you two, the sounds of you bouncing on him and Luke’s whimpering along with your gasps

“Please let me touch you, I’m gonna fucking lose it over here. Please, please.” He begs and you coo down at him. His face red, eyes hooded, and begging for the most simple thing.

“Sure, baby. See? I’ll give you what you need, as long as you ask me nicely.” You let his wrist go and he immediately grabs handfuls of your ass, moaning when he’s able to feel your soft skin under his fingers

“I’m close.” He whines out and you look at him with confusion “already? We just started baby…..if you cum, how am I gonna get off?” You mock him and all of a sudden he feels this wave of embarrassment hit him, tossing his head back with a groan.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me. I’ve never- fuck- never been like this before for anyone.” You bite down behind his ear and he shudders “mmm… maybe I’m just different. All I know is that you shouldn’t cum yet.” You whisper and he shakes “can’t. I can’t hold it. You’re too fucking good.”

“Hold it.” You demand, and go right back to attacking his neck. “I’m trying. I’m trying.” He cries out, repeating himself. A small part of you wonders if he’s trying to convince you or himself, and right when he’s about to break, you let go of your pending orgasm and give in.

“Cum for me, Luke.” You rasp out, and he’s a mess as he comes undone under you. Shaking and eyes rolling into the back in his head, you get that feeling of accomplishment take over you as you orgasm. This is what you came here for.

Helping him ride out his orgasm, you gently grind yourself on him, watching him slowly come down from his high.

Everything for Luke after that is a blur. All he can remember was you cleaning him up and basically tucking him into bed before he knocked out.

The morning after, Luke woke up to Jack blowing his phone up, asking him where he was.

He frantically got up and got dressed, rushed to the airport, and met up with the other two boys. “Luke! Where were you at, man?” Nico asks and Jack smirks, looking at his younger brother.

“Lukey here had quite an eventful night if I say.” Luke can feel his face heating up at jacks words and brushes him off. “Whatever, man. Let’s just get on the plane?” He says and he was the first person to sit down and plug his headphones in as soon as he sat down, waiting for the flight attendant to give him the green light to board the plane.

As Nico goes over the plans for the trip when they land, Luke glances over to Jack and almost has a heart attack when he sees you sitting at the bar across the area from them. He sits up abruptly and when he glances at Nico for a second when his captain asks him what’s wrong and then looks back to where you were, you aren’t there anymore.

“…..Luke?” Jack repeats, concern spreading on his face as he waves his hand infront of Luke’s face. With his mouth parted and stuttering, he eventually says never mind and sinks back into his chair, gaining confused looks from both men next to him but slowly moving back into their previous conversation.

Sneakily glancing back to your spot, you still aren’t there, and he begins to wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him, but he can’t shake off the feeling that he was right.

Eventually he boards the plane and flies to Australia like it was meant to do, and Luke takes a nap. The rest of the flight is smooth, nice and quiet like he wanted it to be. He couldn’t stop thinking of you. What you two did last night, and if you were really there in the airport with him.

He wakes up when the plane lands, collecting his stuff and joking with Jack and Nico, he freezes when he leaves the plane and sees you again across the room talking to another girl.

He stands there for a solid second, staring holes into your back like if he looks away you’ll disappear. Jack bumps into him from behind due to the sudden stop and when Luke slightly lunges forward and his eyes snap off you for a second, you weren’t there anymore.

“Luke, are you okay? You’ve been acting weird since this morning.” Jack says, gently rubbing his shoulder after running into Luke and all of a sudden Luke can feel anxiety bubbling in his chest. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He states quickly, trying to return back to normal when Jack and Nico look at each other, both equally aware that something’s going on.

What they don’t know can’t hurt them.

© copyright of ilythena. Do not repost or translate onto any other websites.

I FUCKING HATE THE WAY I ENDED THIS but I wanna post for my pookies

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Six

TW: choking, noncon, dark shit, Julian

You’d be a liar, if you said you weren’t floating on a little cloud, as you go about your duties at the hospital. You’re smiling stupidly to yourself for no reason at all–and it’s all Tom Ludlow’s fault, of course. 

Later, when you’re sort of able to think clearly, you marvel at the way that man let you have your way without actually getting mad about it. You weren’t really sure what you were getting into, as you snapped the cuff into place. And maybe you’re still not sure who actually manipulated who. 

Maybe it doesn’t matter. 

All’s well that ends well…and that ended very fucking well, if you don’t say so yourself. 

You’d actually almost managed to forget about Doctor Julian for a little while. That is, until you hear a crisp click click outside the door when you’re getting something out of a supply closet and you jump three vertical feet in the air.

Ok, maybe not that high, but your soul certainly attempts to leave your fucking body. 

When you whirl to confront him–he’s gone. 

Bastard. 

Then several cases come in one after the other. Two gunshot wounds, a stabbing, a car accident, a gnarly burn. You are too busy to think about anything else but saving lives. 

Looking back, Julian undoubtedly banked on that, near the end of your shift. You are exhausted, and covered in grime, and hungry too because you missed out on your sandwich. It turns out that man can move stealthily as a cat, sneaking up without a sound behind you, until it’s too late and he’s bundled you into the lab, which sadly is rarely if ever occupied. 

You struggle, of course, to little avail. The way he bares his teeth as he pins your arms behind you betrays his enjoyment of this little ambush–too fucking much. His mouth crashes over yours, a punishing kiss that clashes teeth and bruises lips. He draws away just as you try to bite down on his wicked tongue. 

“Get off of me,” you snarl, though even now you're conscious of drawing attention, keeping your voice down. 

“Just wanted a little preview of our weekend festivities. Are you looking forward to it as much as I am?”

“No.”

Too late, you realize that’s exactly the answer he wanted. You can tell by his pleased smirk. He doesn’t want you to enjoy this at all. It would absolutely take the fun out of it for him. He makes it seem easy, to hold both of your wrists together in one of his large hands, his other lifting to brush away a stray lock of hair from your face. In any other circumstance the touch could have almost seemed tender–but you are a lamb in the jaws of a wolf, and you begin to tremble in his grasp. 

They do this–abusers. They lull you with some nugget of sweetness, put you off guard so that the violence is even more satisfying when they strike. It’s strange in a way, to compare this outwardly dignified man to the handsome redneck who used to knock you around back in Kansas. But really they are just two sides of the same fucking coin. 

You should fight back. Knee him in the groin, or maybe try out a headbutt. But your limbs seem to have forgotten how to function–and Julian has that little piece of damning lead in a baggie that could completely upend Tom Ludlow’s world. 

He feels it, as you remember that, the fight leaking from your bones.  “I’m proud of you, y/n. Someday, you won’t fight me at all.” 

You’re smart enough not to tell him this will not be an ongoing thing. Once you have that piece of evidence in your hands…you are gone. Maybe you’ll have to switch to a different hospital. Anything, not to have to deal with this asshole on a daily basis. 

Or, you could tell Tom, and this motherfucker will be unalived faster than you can say workplace harassment. Ok, maybe that’s not a good option, but it feels good to think about at this moment, when you are helpless in this monster’s clutches.

His touch migrates to your jaw, squeezing just this side of too hard. “I’m feeling…peckish, y/n. I think I’d like a little amuse bouche to tide me over until Saturday.”

Your heart drops to your feet.

“Amuse bouche? Who do you think you are, the Marquis de Sade?”

“Funny you should mention him. I think he had some very interesting ideas.”

“Julian…we’re at work.”

He just smirks, that cold glint in his eyes like a bared blade. 

“I think you mean to say, ‘Yes, Doctor.’”

You glare at him, and he waits, squeezing your wrists in his vice of a grip uncomfortably. 

“If you break my hands you will be in so much fucking trouble.”

He only finds your threat amusing at best. “Useful thing about being a doctor. I am well versed in the limits of the human body.” He squeezes harder, and you gasp. It makes his eyes shine like a kid outside the gates of Disneyland.

“How’s this for a limit? If you mark me up, Tom will come after you. He sees me naked every day.” You’re not sure if it's a good thing you mention this, but in the heat of the moment your protector’s name spills from your lips, invoked like your household saint. And you will admit, it feels good, to see Julian’s eyes darken at the mention of your intimacy with Tom.

“I think you're forgetting who holds the cards here to your boyfriend’s future. You had better come up with some good lies for Saturday, because I intend to leave my marks all over this beautiful skin.” He lets go of your wrists, but only to run his hands over your forearms, raising gooseflesh as he goes.

“How’s it feel to be a fucking creep?” You ask, genuinely, actually curious about the answer, trying not to give any reaction to his fingers teasing higher up your arms, putting every single nerve on high alert. 

His hand envelops your throat, fingers pressing against the sides and closing just enough to make it hard to breathe. “Please, go on,” he nods, looking down at you with a snarling grin. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction. You let him choke you in varying degrees and intensities and angles, saying nothing while he works at your throat like a he’s learning an instrument; what makes you cry, what makes your eyes roll back in your head, what makes you sputter and cough and gasp for the sweet air he’s depriving you of. 

Maybe you wish he would just strangle you to completion, instead of torturing you like this. Every time he lets you breathe it just makes the next instance of his huge hand around your throat that much worse. 

“Beg me to stop,” he hums against your ear, snaking tongue flicking at your soft dangling skin. 

You do. You beg, sweetly even. You beg for breath, which is something you never thought you’d have to do again after the freeing age of 18…and then after the horribly abusive first ex. 

But here you are. 

[oh-stars]

Recognition

Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1257 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

“What time will you be home?” Eddie asks, perched on the couch like a bird, elbows on his  knees and sitting on his heels, toes straining under his weight. He feels like a little gremlin, body needing a way to expel all the energy his boring day off built up while Steve’s been at work. 

Steve sighs and adjusts his tie in the mirror by the door. “If all goes well, eight?” 

Eddie groans and falls back, limbs flailing. “If they expect you to go to school after hours, they should at least pay you,” he says, face squished into the fabric. It’s miserable being on different schedules. He’s been working at the plant until the construction is done on his shop, which means weird hours and being completely off rhythm with Steve. He barely sees the man! 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Steve huffs as he smooths down his shirt, walking towards him. He carefully bends over to kiss Eddie’s pouting lips, laughing at him. God, Eddie’s so glad this man is his. He’s too precious to let go. “I’d stay if I could,” Steve says softly. “You know I hate going to these things.” 

Eddie sighs, giving him a small smile as he touches up the few strands of Steve’s hair that were betrayed by his hairspray. “I know,” he says. “I could always come with you.” 

Steve shakes his head, cheeks pink. “Thank you, but you, uh, really don’t want to go to a boring PTA meeting. All they’re going to do is fight over which classroom should get the crayons.” 

“I’d go for you, Steve,” Eddie says. He sighs again and pushes Steve away. “Go so you can get back.” 

“I love you,” Steve says, stealing another kiss before he finally stands up. 

“Love you too,” Eddie says, smashing his face back into the couch. “I’ll be here, rotting away until you return, my sweet knight.” 

Steve shakes his head and grabs his wallet and keys off the coffee table. Then he’s gone, with the rumble of the Beemer and the faint sounds of David Bowie announcing his departure. 

Eddie lasts a whole three minutes before he’s shooting up off the couch and pacing around the living room as he thinks of something he could do to occupy his time. He’s done about as much housework as he could manage for the day, he doesn’t think he could practice anymore today or write at all with how depleted his creative juices feel, and he knows nothing good comes on TV on Tuesdays in early January. 

That’s how he ends up piddling about Steve’s desk. Steve keeps all his papers that need to be graded meticulously organized, with the ones that are fair game for anyone to grade (aka the ones with scoresheets) in the blue folder. On days where Eddie’s brain was too much, when he couldn’t even look at his guitar without feeling pain or pick up his pencil to be creative in any fashion, he needed something to do to get the excess brain energy out. Robin’s much the same way, so Steve started setting aside his pop quizzes and multiple choice tests in the blue folder for either of them to grade if they needed. Otherwise, he’d get to it eventually. It’s mindless enough to calm their brains, they feel good helping Steve, and it helps give Steve more time to focus on the essays and presentations that need more time to be graded. It’s a win win all the way around. 

The blue folder isn’t as full as normal, but there are a few worksheets Eddie can take care of for Steve. He reaches for the sticker book and the purple pen (Steve’s signature grading color) in the mug Wayne gave him that’s an apple with a little worm for a handle that he uses as a pencil cup. That’s when he sees the PTA flyer. It’s jam-packed with information and minutes from the last meeting, but in big, bold letters at the bottom of the flyer, Eddie reads:

Join us to honor this year’s Teacher of the Year, Mr. Steve Harrington, eighth grade English. 

Eddie puts down the blue folder, the pen, and the flyer. He’s still for exactly one minute before his body goes into flight or fight mode. Within ten minutes, he’s dressed in his nice date clothes and his hair is tamed back into a tight bun, threatening to snap the band. 

Time crunch or not, he drives like a bat out of hell. He has plenty of time to get to the school, they live close enough, but he needs to make a few stops first. All in all, he gets there right as the principal is starting the meeting. 

He tucks himself in a corner in the back, watching the whole thing patiently. The problem is, he can’t really see Steve. Eddie cranes his neck and bounces on his toes, trying to find a way to make it to one of the seats in the center of the auditorium, closer to the stage. 

His opening comes after the chorus does a performance, when the parents at the front scurry their students away before the meeting can continue. First off, rude, but it works in Eddie’s favor. Steve’s award is next and Eddie isn’t missing this. 

Eddie slips into the front row as the principal starts shifting gears, whispering to the vice principal as the crowd settles. 

She announces Steve to a polite applause, but that’s just not good enough for his Steve. 

His palms ache with how hard he’s clapping, just shy of letting out a loud ‘whoop’ – and he’d do it if it wasn’t for the pretty way Steve’s face and ears are pinkening up. Their eyes meet as Eddie beams. 

“Hi,” he mouths, trying so hard to not vibrate out of the seat. 

Steve’s smile softens as he gives a wave of appreciation to the crowd, eyes darting back to Eddie. As the principal sings Steve’s praise and when she hands over the microphone for Steve to say a few words, Steve’s eyes never leave Eddie’s. It isn’t until a few of his students get up to speak that Steve finally looks toward the speaker, his shy smile turning into one of pride. Eddie knows he could care less about the words themselves (it’ll be later tonight that Steve will have a crisis and finally let the kind words sink in, where he’ll cower into Eddie’s body and panic over how much these kids trust him), but rather seeing how brave his kids are for speaking to a crowd this big and doing it so well. 

The award is the last part of the meeting, so after another round of applause, everyone is dismissed. Eddie jumps up to meet Steve at the bottom of the stage. 

“You didn’t have to come,” Steve says as he jumps down. 

“I wanted to,” Eddie says. “I’m proud of you,” he adds as he bumps their shoulders together. 

“I’m just doing my job–”

“Stop,” Eddie says kindly, “you deserve this.” He grabs Steve’s hand and gently tugs him toward the exit. “C’mon, I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate.”

“What about my car?” 

“I’ll drive you to work tomorrow.”

Steve’s blush is even stronger up close, but he doesn’t fight Eddie. And it’s an absolute privilege to watch as Steve gets all shy again when Eddie presents him with flowers once they’re at the van, stammering his thanks as Eddie kisses his cheek swiftly. 

--

Ao3 Link

Thank you @lady-lostmind 💜

[tinyidle]

Need More - CJH

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: in which you and your boyfriend engage in some casual sex during your chuseok vacation time

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴/𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: jongho x fem!reader

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: slice of life, slight fluff, smut

𝘈𝘜/𝘛𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰: established relationship, free use

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.3k

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: free use, consensual perversion, implied sensual touches, kisses, implied groping, mutual masturbation, implied fellatios, cunnilingus, thigh fucking, slightly casual sex (they are both protected, like you should) fiction ofc ofc

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: M for mature, mdni ofc

𝘈/𝘕: i was debating on whether my next atz fic should be a request i got a long time go or this one thought ive had for a while. because it's jongho, and i haven't written about him yet this year, ill do this first. my inspo was that ISFP video he made. 4th submission to @wonderlandnet. taglist person @strayteezsimp.

it's day 3 of vacationing, and jongho's decided to take a break from all those adventures he's had the past couple days while out on chuseok leave. this meant going to sleep for a good while, and then doing whatever he wanted. with you of course.

by the time the second day rolled around, you asked to stick around a bit at night after he went out, and of course jongho obliged. he loved when you'd come to his dorm to simply hang out, especially when that would seldom happened to each of your busy schedules. despite you doing your own things during the day, the night just seemed like a perfect time to check and spend some time with your boyfriend.

on this day, the only difference was that you stayed in the night before, allowing you and jongho to sleep in together. he woke up and lazily smiled while seeing you sounding snoozing in front of him. carefully stroking your hair, you wake up and smile back at him.

"hey jonghie," you greet him.

jongho trails his hand from your head to your warm cheek, "hey, baby."

you sigh in content as he continues to caress your face. "jongho?" he hums. "i want you to use me all day today."

his hand froze. "you sure, sweetie? i dont want to make you uncomfortable." jongho rested his hand on your cheek while staring into the warmth of your eyes as he got slightly excited down there.

you sleepily shake your head, "i know you won't do anything to hurt me, jongho. if anything just double-check if you think im not in the mood, okay?"

he hesitated, realizing you mean this. then he smiled again, nodding his head as he happily obliged. "anything for you, sweetie," he answered, moving forward to give the cheek he was touching a soft kiss before you both dozed off again.

--

waking up two hours later, you both woke up and started your day like normal. it was 10 am- not too late, but later than normal for you. as you were getting in the shower, you felt the heavy presence of your boyfriend before he embraced you in his arms. you starting to laugh once you felt the wet and swinging of his length on your thigh.

"how are you already horny?" you asked, hand going behind you to ease the tension he had in between his legs.

jongho groaned as you stroked him steadily. "i can never get enough of you, love." his hand reached over to allow the water to run and heat up, before expertly slotting itself where you were currently drenched. you gasped, making him chuckle. "i especially cant enough of your noises when i barely touch you."

you wanted to retort, but all that came out were moans of satisfaction and want for him to keep going. you used your other hand to turn the shower head on to full blast while your occupied hand was gathering more and more precum from your boyfriend. he in response had three thick fingers sliding in and out of you, holding your waist in order to keep your balance.

you squealed when the middle of his fingers hit your g spot. "fuck, jongho im gonna cum," you warned. to give a clue as to how close you were, you swiped the slit of his tip multiple times- a trick you learned when you wanted him to release.

it worked, as the man groaned and targeted you spot even more. you whined louder as his panting grew even more shallow. with a low and almost desperate voice, he commanded, "cum for me, baby."

you instantly lost control and gave in to your need for orgasm. jongho came soon after as you felt his seed dripping down your leg. he sighed as his fingers slowed down, and you soon let go of his slightly softer cock.

he needed more of you later, for sure.

--

lunchtime came and went, and you both had local takeout from a lovely restaurant from nearby. after 2, when everything was supposed to be digested, you decided to catch up on some TV shows you missed from being busy at work all the time. at first you sat on he couch, but then felt the need to get a simple snack.

in the middle of getting your treat, you decided to continue the current episode of what you were watching on the kitchen area. not only were you so comfortable leaning over and standing to look down at your phone that you forgot what you were in there for, you were so distracted that it took a wet muscle to knock you out of your episode-filled daze.

you gasped as you held onto the edge of the countertop. "jongho!" you wanted to sound like you were reprimanding him, but his tongue on your clit was keeping you from speaking. "ss-shit," you could only say, arms shaking as your hips had a mind of its own onto his more-than-ready mouth.

"mmmh," the man moaned, right into your aching center. jongho help your hips to his face, circling his tongue on your hole before teasingly pushing it in, causing you to snap. you came with a soft sob, hips jerking ever so often when your boyfriend would tantalizingly, lick at your sensitive clit.

you help him out with a blowjob, and he thanked you for it as you swallowed him clean. but he needed more of you again.

--

you both had to go out and catch up with friends for a group outing. once that was done and you two headed home, jongho ripped your clothes off and proceeded to fuck your brains out. now you were truly spent, but jongho needed more.

an hour into you being knocked out from having arguably one of the best nights of your life, you were woken up by kisses to your shoulder and fondling of your breasts. you were turned on, no doubt, but you nether regions couldn't take anymore. breathing in enough air to whisper, you said, "baby, i cant go anymore. my pussy's too spent."

sensing the respectful disappoint in him, you were going to turn around and give him another blowjob as a 'truce', until you heard him, say, "let me fuck your thighs."

this was new. how does he even know it'd be something he'd like? nonetheless, you agreed. "okay. just dont slip it in unless i get desperate, okay?" you heard a hum of understanding, prompting you to open up your legs for him.

the friction was incredible. despite you widening your legs a good bit to allow himself to slot, somehow was still a tight fit. in between your thighs. "oh my fucking-" jongho stuttered as you shuddered from how your boyfriend's thick girth was prompting you to open your thighs some more. somehow wanting to still sleep, you tried clenching your legs in and hope the constant ooze of jongho's cock would slick you up. unsurprisingly it wasn't just his juices that would make you slippery, as your slick was making your thighs a mess.

you panted and whined as the head of boyfriend's cock repeatedly nudged unto your clit, burning in the most pleasurable way. you couldn't take it anymore. "jjong, please cum in me. i need you again."

swallowing down the bit of pride that was trying to bubble up in his throat, jongho opened your leg wide before pushing his head in your sopping cunt. making you hiss and groan from the stretch you could never get tired of. "you can't get over me, neither," he replied before thrusting a couple more times, shooting himself deep inside of you for the last time tonight. he returned the favor by rubbing your clit while he was still inside until you cam hard around him, milking him for all he's worth.

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader | part 7

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend, Zuko. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

hi part 7... picking up right where we left off... i think I'm going to post a masterlist & keep it linked on my pinned to make it easier to sift through and find, esp since i do plan on posting other fics once i finished my very first >.< also i want to post the songs i listen to while I'm writing and some visuals hehe... just to make it much more immersive. again i do not own these characters and they are not mine! (except my mc i guess) like comment reblog if ya like... enjoy! about 1785 words

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

We’re standing on a sand-colored platform of a structure currently being renovated or changed to fit Fire Nation standards. The usual for when they occupy lands that don’t belong to them. Aangs in front of me, with Sokka to my left and Katara to my right. We form a triangle and I'm thankful for the partial covering.

I’m thinking of the best way to summarize the threats ahead of us, just in case they try to change the plan. There’s a good chance this will go south.

“Mai, in the center, has good aim with her blades, but it’s Ty Lee, on the left, you should keep an eye out for.” I try to give my friends the run-down on my, I guess, old friends one would say. But we’ve only got so much time before all three of them realize that I’m here.  

They lower King Bumi from the top of the building using a metal crane. They’ve got him in a coffin-shaped cage with only his head showing.

“You brought my brother?” Mai speaks first, breaking the silence between the two groups. She squints at the sight of me, but I’m too far away for her to be sure it’s me.

“He’s here.” Aang solemnly replies. “We’re ready to trade.” In these moments, he’s got the grace of a 112-year-old.

Suddenly, Azula speaks to Mai in a hushed tone we can’t quite hear. Fine is never fine with Azula, nothing is ever the way it should be with her. There’s bound to be some trick up her sleeve that only feeds into her misery.

“I’ll help with the girl on the right, she’s the most vicious,” I warn them. I briefly make eye contact with Sokka. We haven’t talked about what was said and now wasn’t the time, but I couldn’t help but yearn for his gentleness. A reminder that I wasn’t like the enemies in front of us, but someone new. Someone he couldn’t hate.

Then, Mai steps forward. “The deal’s off.” With a lift of her gloved hand, King Bumi is raised once again by the crane.

“Bumi!” Aang cries out for his old friend and starts heading towards him, defying the laws of gravity bestowed upon the rest of us. It’s enchanting to see an air-bender. It’s so different from the rest of the elements. He looks like he’s flying.

As he does so, Azula strikes, and I see her blue flame for the first time. She must’ve perfected her oxygen levels for complete combustion; but if she’s the Azula I’ve always known, I know how to beat her. This time, I won’t go easy. I won’t make that same mistake again for nostalgia.

Aang’s head covering flies away as the air moves around him and his arrow is exposed.

I look down at Azula’s reaction and she’s close enough now to hear.

“The Avatar. My lucky day.” The princess smirks, re-organizing her plans for Omashu in her head.

“Remember, don’t let Ty Lee touch you!” I warn Sokka and Katara and dash toward Azula, offering Aang some support against the crazed fire-bender.

I follow her upward, burning the knot on the pulley to cause the rope to lift.

Azula can see me through the grids as the ropes pull us to the top of the building, and I can see her in real-time realize who I am.

“Well, if it isn’t the Royal traitor. Seems like you and Zuzu still share a brain.” She gloats.

“Leave the Avatar alone, Azula. I mean it!” We break through the ceiling made from wood and reach the roof of the building under construction.

She attacks Aang with a blue blast, causing him to break the metal chain. Aang instantly heads downward with King Bumi. He cushions their fall with an air bubble, and they land on the well-known ramps of Omashu. Azula quickly follows them using a cart, and I’m on her tail. If only I had Sokka’s boomerang right now, it makes so much sense to carry one in these situations.

We catch up to Aang, giving Azula the chance to strike him and Bumi.

I distract her with my own fire-blasts, making sure to lean forward and crash into her cart.

“Out of practice?” She questions.

“Out of patience.” I growl, punctuating my sentence with a blast from my right hand.

As we continue our fight by speeding through the ramps, I see Appa in the distance. Relief washes over me as I conclude Sokka and Katara must have gotten away from Mai and Ty Lee.

Aang attempts to lift Bumi onto Appa’s saddle with his bending, but he miscalculates and Bumi’s off to land on the ground. But his friend won’t let him go on his own. Together, they land on another ramp and head down to ground-level.

Azula’s right behind them, and I’m right behind her.

She attempts another attack, but a rock blocks her offense and bursts her cart into dust. I leap off mine before the impact breaks my cart too and we both land on our feet, an homage to our identical upbringing.

She lets Aang go for a reason I can’t quite put my finger on until she turns around to face me. We're still standing on the ramps.

“The key to never losing is knowing when you’re beat.” She says with her hands in defense, signaling that she’s waving the white flag.

I’m still in fight mode. I’d never let my guard down around her, not now, not ever. “You’ll always be beat as long as I’m here.”

She pauses to truly grasp my presence. It’s been three years since we’ve seen each other, and everything’s changed. We used to be on the same team, never friends but bonded by our birthplace. It’s the first time we no longer owe each other pleasantries. Azula, however, uses sweetness as a weapon. “Where have you been, Y/N? You’re missed at the Royal Palace.”

“I doubt it.” Zuko and his mother haven’t touched that home in years, making it impossible for anyone there to actually miss me.

“Your father misses you.”

“I know you’re lying, Azula.”

“You’ve never trusted me; I’ve never liked you. Now we don’t have to pretend do we?”

“Leave us alone,” I get in my fight stance. “Got it?”

“Fine. Loud and clear.” She dashes away in her infamous run toward the unfinished building, probably to catch up with her friends.

Fine isn’t fine. It’s I’ll get you somehow. I think to myself.

I watch her figure fade into the distance, when it hits me: “Seems like you and Zuzu still share a brain.”

Did Zuko abandon his ship?

Is she lying? She would have no reason to lie about something like that, other than to get to me or Aang. I can’t pinpoint a motive. I still won’t believe her 100 percent, but I’ll keep it in my back pocket.

I slide down the ramp Aang took and find the both of them at the very end, standing on a platform in another unfinished building. Once I’m off and my two feet hit the floor, Bumi bends rock to lift his metal enclosure up the ramp in a fit of laughter.

We both watch him go. “Your friend is very… eccentric.” I tell Aang, as he’s standing with Momo on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” I turn to face him, something’s wrong. He’s disappointed.

“He’s not going to teach you earth-bending?” I assume.

“No, he has to stay here to protect Omashu. I guess I got to find another teacher.” Now, he looks like a twelve-year-old boy with the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. There’s no way he’s meant to do this alone. I’d rather be here helping him than with Zuko.

“We’ll find one in no-time.” I reassure him.

“Who were those three girls?” He changes the subject.

“They were old friends too. Azula is Zuko’s sister.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” I sit on the edge of the platform, waiting for our ride with my feet dangling. Aang sits next to me, and for now, we’re just two kids talking, staring at the beautiful Earth Kingdom in front of us.

“What was it like… to grow up with them?”

“It was easy with Zuko. Azula… not so much.” I wince.

Aang’s face contorts, as if he’s remembering a distant memory. “Was Zuko good? Yaknow, back then?”

A smile creeps up on my face. “He was.”

“Do you think he still could be?”

Aang and I stare at each other. We’re choosing to live in the moment before my answer. The moment in which the possibility of Zuko changing his mind, realizing his mistakes, and helping us stop his father exists.  

“I don’t know.”

☆

The heat and the prickly bushes are upsetting him further with each and every single step. Looking for food when you’re used to someone cooking for you is daunting, Zuko realizes. How is he ever supposed to live like this? How did Y/N?

As he’s walking back to let Uncle know he couldn’t find anything edible, he touches the side of his hair. It’s grown back a bit since cutting it, slicing off his ties to the Fire Nation. Trading in the red for green, hoping to camouflage with the land and the Earth Kingdom people.

What a stupid idea, he thought. How could anyone ever confuse him with anyone else with the scar on his left eye?

But it seemed to be working so far. His sister hadn’t found them, and they haven’t been arrested for their crimes against every other nation.

In the humid morning, on his long walk back to where his uncle was staring at a tea leaf, he thought about the Northern Water Tribe.

He wondered if Y/N was okay from his strike. Maybe the water-bender girl could heal her, and she’d be okay again. He didn’t mean to. He’s been this hard and heavy with everyone else for the sole purpose of returning home, he forgot Y/N was his home. He’s been in fighting mode for so long, he’s forgotten to turn it off.

She wasn’t home, though. She was with the Avatar. Defending him and betraying her nation. How did she get there? He wondered. He had so many questions about everything. Zuko’s sure she had just as many questions for him.

Could he find her now that he was labeled a traitor?

Where his mind led made his empty stomach drop.

If he found her, he’d find the Avatar. Then, he could go home. But if Y/N was not there, would he still want to go back? Did his father’s acceptance matter above all else? It didn’t for Y/N, but she was always braver than him.

Zuko wasn’t ready for that thought, so he pushed it away.

It wasn’t hard to do when your stomach was louder than your thoughts.

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

tag list <3: @camilleverreault @staygoldsquatchling02

[napakmahal]

I’d never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you

Pairing: Hiro Hamada/reader

Trigger warnings: heavy talks of grief and loss, depression (chat unfortunately Tadashi has died in this one)

“I don’t get why we’re driving two hours away just for therapy.” Hiro was becoming pissed off at his aunt's insistence that he go to therapy at least once a week either in person or on the phone. He liked phone therapy better, the crackling audio made it easier to hide slight twinges in his voice.

“It’s part of your plan, remember? Your doctor said that’s how we get you the best care possible and you agreed to try it, remember?” Cass pressed. Of course Hiro remembered, he remembered how bad it pissed him off. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He said he was fine, that should have been enough.

In one month Hiro had been passed around to three different therapists of different genders, nationalities, and backgrounds to try and connect with him better. None of them worked and it was becoming increasingly clearer that one-on-one therapy just wasn’t for him. He didn’t talk and when he did he lied. Plus, one-on-one with somebody twenty years older than him who’d forgotten what it was like to be fifteen or said stupid shit like “he’s in a better place now.” wasn’t super helpful.

So enter group therapy. Just a big circle of teens talking about their problems like a pubescent al-anon. Hiro may have been pissed but Cass had a right to be concerned. With him not going to school he had nothing to occupy his time. She’d wake up early to open the cafe and he’d already be up on his phone. And she knew for a fact he wasn’t getting any sleep. He’d sleep all day and eat nothing before being up all night and eating anything that was quiet enough she wouldn’t hear him.

“Just seems kinda pointless.” He sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat. “I’m fine, everyone’s just being so dramatic.”

Cass didn’t respond to that. She just leaned over and grabbed onto her nephew’s hand and kissed his palm. “Did you take your drops today?”

“Mmhm.” Hiro lied.

After the blast an EMT on sight noticed that Hiro’s right ear was bleeding from the pressure while he was taken to the hospital for possible concussion. For weeks after that all he could hear was a persistent ringing but thankfully he hadn’t lost his hearing and the fall had hurt his shoulder blades more than it’d hurt his head. After his brain scan in the hospital his doctor had told him how lucky he was. Hiro swore that if he ever got diagnosed with a stroke, he’d pray he wasn’t his doctor.

They pulled up to another branch of their hospital and parked out front and just in the truck silently.

“Can we go home now?” Hiro spoke up.

Cass let out a breathy laugh and looked over at him. “The program lasts ten weeks, if you make it to five and still want out then okay. Deal?” She held out her hand.

Hiro thought about it for a moment. Five weeks of keeping his mouth shut and letting other people talk about their problems for an hour and a half sounded like a solid enough idea. So he and his aunt shook on it.

Five weeks, just gotta make it five weeks.

They walked into the building with Cass’s arm draped over Hiro’s still healing shoulders. The second they arrived at the receptionists desk a tablet was shoved in their faces. “Sit down, fill out the online questionnaire.”

The questions were always the same:

In the past week I felt mad: sometimes, always, never, often

I worried something bad might happen: sometimes, always, never, often

I felt like I couldn’t do anything right: sometimes, always, never, often

I or people around me participated in substance abuse: I did, my friends and I did, my parents did, none of the above

Have you ever been diagnosed antidepressants: yes or no

Have you made any attempt to commit suicide or thought of commiting suicide within the past week: yes or no

It took Hiro a total of seven minutes to complete the questionnaire without putting any thought into his answers. When it was the ‘parent/guardian’ portion Cass took forever to finish.

When the questionnaire was filled out, a woman in a blue blouse and a key card walked over to them. She asked with sweetness, “Hiro?”

She introduced herself as Dr. Yang and walked Hiro and Cass all the way to her personal office. The walls were covered with older teens graduation photos, kindergarten drawings, and fidget toys on her shelves.

“I know you’re here for group, but because your previous doctors told us that you’ve never done group therapy before I just wanna give you the low down. Is that okay?” Dr. Yang looked at Hiro. He just nodded with a smile. Of course it was okay, he was here wasn’t he? She explained about how some of the kids had been doing groups with her before and how privacy in group settings worked. Hiro was all fine listening to all the foundational stuff until she started getting too personal.

Dr. Yang looked directly at him. “So, Hiro. Can we just talk a little bit about why you’re here? I was informed by one of your previous doctors that your brother just passed away recently. I’m so sorry for your loss, I’m sure it was hard.”

“It’s okay, thanks.” Hiro finally spoke up. It wasn’t okay but it made everyone less uncomfortable if he just said it was okay. “But I guess I’ve just been like- sad for a while.”

“And that’s perfectly alright.”

That was the thing that pissed Hiro off the most. How his therapists would reassure him that it was okay to be sad. No shit it was okay to be sad, somebody died! He knew that and having people say that to him made him feel like he was being treated like an idiot.

The two of them talked for a bit until Dr. Yang sent him out of the office so she could speak with Cass alone. One therapist had invited her into the room to ask her about her perspective and she ended up basically sobbing–which Hiro felt really bad about. It just went to show that she’d been spending a shit-ton of time worrying about him yet nobody was really worried about her.

Hiro walked over to the room his group would be meeting. Waiting for the pre-meeting with Dr. Yang and his aunt to be over when he saw you already sitting there. You looked up towards the door at the sound of footsteps. You two exchanged smiles but didn’t say anything to each other and Hiro took the seat two chairs away from you. It was awkward.

“Are you new?” You asked, trying to break the silence.

Hiro paused as if he was shocked you were talking to him but answered. “Yeah, this is my first group therapy session.”

“Cool, cool.” You nodded.

Awkward silence again.

This time Hiro spoke up first. “I like your shoes.”

“Oh thanks. Yours are cool too.” You pointed to his sneakers. The laces obviously didn’t come with the shoes when he bought them. He must have replaced them but they looked kinda cool. The session didn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes in that room in awkward silence sounded vile. “Do you want a lemonade pop? I know where they keep them.”

“Uhh, sure.” He agreed for the exact same reason you asked. The silence was deafening.

After you snuck your way into the first aid room and grabbed two lemonade pops from the freezer, you two sat down on the stool of one of the larger windows.

“So what are you here for?” You brought the frozen treat up to your lips.

Hiro was still trying to open his when he said, “Because I’m sad.”

“We’re all sad, you’ll fit right in.” You joked. Hiro genuinely let out a small laugh at that which felt nice. “No but pretty much everyone here is chill.”

“How many times have you done this?” He took a small scrape of the pop with his front teeth.

“This will be my second program and my last. I mostly know a lot of the other people here from school.” You shrugged. “Where do you go to school?”

He answered quickly, “I’m not in school right now.”

“Oh.”

Shit. Now you probably think he’s some kind of degenerate high school dropout.

“I just haven’t registered.” He added immediately after.

You licked the side of your pop to keep it from melting onto your clothes. “Did you move?”

“No, not exactly.” Hiro had realized he’d accidentally opened up a can of worms into his personal life for you.

Intrigued, you pressed him for more details. “What happened?”

“I got accepted somewhere, I just need to register.” Perfect, vague yet descriptive.

Damn. He must go to some kind of private school. Why else would he use the word accepted? You joked, “Damn rich people.”

Hiro nearly laughed. Rich? They were relatively low income and only saved thousands of dollars a year on car payments because he could fix their truck for free. Years ago after one of Cass’s friends paid her daughters 20,000 dollar tuition she told both Hiro and Tadashi that she would not be paying for any tuition. She’d pay for books, parking spots, and the occasional on campus meal. But never tuition. Just her luck Tadashi got his fifty-thousand dollar scholarship plus financial aid and Hiro got a full-ride. If he ever planned on using it.

“We aren’t rich, trust me.” He laughed to himself.

“Private school kids are rich to some degree.” You shrugged. Denying their richness is kind of a rich people thing to do.

His eyebrows contorted with confusion as he looked at you. “I didn’t get into a private school.”

“You said you were accepted.” Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Yeah, accepted to college.” He explained slowly.

You stared at him blankly. There was no way. “College? How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Bullshit.” You shot immediately right after. “I don’t believe you. That’s bullshit. You are bullshit.”

A smile tugged further at Hiro’s lips. “I swear I’m not lying. I got accepted to SFIT.”

“Why are you really here? Is it actually because you’re a pathological liar?” You drilled. Graduating early wasn’t super uncommon but graduating early and getting accepted to a prestigious university like SFIT was insanity. “You’re telling me you graduated at fifteen and got accepted to a top school like SFIT?”

“Well I actually graduated at thirteen.”

“You are such a liar!” You reiterated once again. If he graduated at thirteen that must have meant he was nine when he started high school. No fucking way. “Prove it to me.”

“Well my acceptance letter is at home but sure I’ll show it to you.” He finished up his lemonade pop and licked the remaining ice chunk off the stick.

You scoffed. “And give you time to print a fake one out? No, the second you get home send me a picture of it.”

Just like that you exchanged phone numbers. While typing in each other's numbers Hiro realized this was the first time he’d laughed with someone in weeks and it actually felt really nice. But it was overridden by a feeling of guilt. Why did he feel so guilty? He just laughed with someone he found funny. Why did feeling a small bit of true joy after his brother's death make him feel so obnoxious? Almost like he was rubbing it in someone's face. Or like he was doing it to purposely hurt someone.

It’s weird thinking you know loss but then life gives you the finger and proves you wrong. Hiro lost both his parents, that’s plenty of loss for anyone. But he was only three when it happened so what did he really understand about it? Hiro has always been told he’s smart and rightfully so. With an IQ of roughly 210 it’s a correct assumption to make. But if losing his brother has taught him anything, it’s that he knows nothing about shit that really matters.

Hiro really hated the waves. A brochure on grieving a doctor had given him said that the heaviness of grief episodes will wax and wane. In good there will be bad but in bad there will be good. But it will never be the same. Talking with you actually felt like something that wasn’t soul crushing numbness but a wave of guilt and overthinking immediately followed it.

Nothing would ever be the same.

While Hiro was wrestling with such a random wave of heavy feelings you looked up from typing his number into your phone. “Wait, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

He snapped out of his small daze and looked you dead in the eyes. “Hiro,” He gave you a small smile and held out his hand for you to shake. “My name’s Hiro.”

You gracefully smiled back at him and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Hiro. I’m y/n.”

[tryin2writehere]

Gentlemen Fanfic (Eddie x Susie)

PEOPLE IN GLASS HOUSES

1

Susie Glass’s layers rivaled an onion, but with hardened surfaces like the earth’s own fucking mantle. A polished design of layered wools, tweed, velvets and silks, as though they could literally armor her against a consistent onslaught of fatuity-prone workmates. Eddie spent long moments dealing devilish ideas of unfurling her from these layers. He often soothed himself with the notion that a personal union could be possible without imploding their professional partnership.

 

He found himself seeking signs like a meteorologist to predict her temperature, (cooly aloof with a sixty percent chance of snark.) When she warmed, and her eyes revealed a playful gleam, it could set him on the edge of reason.

Like he called her forth with desire alone, the outline of her body emanated on the decorative glass frame of his study. Before she was even fully in the room, he smiled, “Hello Susan.”

“Evening Edward,” she returned and sashayed across the room in a perfectly tailored blue plaid suit he’d never seen. She planted herself in a chair across from Eddie. 

The low light glinted off the amber bourbon Eddie poured into baccarat tumblers, “did you hear back from Brussels?”

“Our Belgian friends have a different timeline in mind and no sense of urgency. I reckon we’ll hear sometime next week.”

“Do you speak any Flemish?” The most successful way, he found, to get to know Susie Glass, was micro-information obtained in seemingly innocuous questions.  That and surviving nazi twat machine-gun fire.  

“Very little.  Mostly vulgarities, really.  I get by with French.  You?”

“Not a word,” he rounded his desk, sat on the edge, and handed her the drink, eyeing her on-business demeanor. 

She sipped, looking up at him through thick eyelashes and fringe, and his chest tightened slightly.

“Jack is doing well?”

Her countenance visibly lightened with her brother’s name, her azure eyes suddenly balmy, “he is indeed. Fortuitous you mentioning him.”

“How so?”

“I’ve a meeting tomorrow afternoon with an unpleasant but necessary gym owner. Thought you might like to join me.”

“I would like to join you, yes.  A gym owner?”

“I’m looking to acquire a few more locations.”

“For Jack?”

“He isn’t ready to train, and I need to keep him busy, keep his mind occupied while he’s recovering.  GlassKnuckle is a fine place, but his pride…he needs a bit of a fresh start. He’d be a good coach really,” she paused and smirked. “He’d be a shit awful manager, but I can outsource that to a degree. It’s the only environment I reckon will keep him contented until he can train again.”

Eddie nearly asked if fighting again was even a realistic possibility, but thought better of it.  He didn’t want to squash the hopeful glimmer in her eyes or again draw attention to his own culpability in Jack’s condition.

Instead he asked, “who is this unpleasant Gym Owner?”

“Sugar Walsh.  He owns three locations, and rumours abound he’s looking to unload them and retire.”

“What time tomorrow?”

“Two o’clock. You available then?”

“I’m not, unfortunately. I’m taking Chuckles and Junior to the doctor.”

“The doctor?” she leaned forward in concern.

“Just a scheduled check-up for the baby, but she asked me -“

“Of course,” she nodded, “you’re a good brother.”

“Mm. Yes, I try. Can we reschedule?”

“Had better not. As I said, he’s unpleasant as it is.”

She stared into her drink, her posture stiffening slightly, her body weighted again with some unknown problem-to-be-solved.

“Susie?”

She glanced up at him.

“Is there something -”

“- nothing I can’t handle,” she blinked softly.

“Of course,” he nodded again. “We should return around four pm tomorrow; would you like to have dinner with me, and we can discuss some overdue security upgrades?” 

“Dinner with the Duke of Halstead.  What shall I wear?”

“Something blue.  Compliments your eyes.”

“Hm. Blue it is.” She swallowed the last of her drink and was gone before he could conjure a chaste enough reason for her to stay.

[hanjisunglover]

𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐘 - Han Jisung.

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

genre: rom-com, fluff, roommates to lovers

word count: 

summary: you always thought of jisung as an attractive guy, and it was amazing having him as your roommate, but things start to get weird after you dreamed of kissing him.

His lips looks so soft, that's what you think every morning, after you wake up and you do the same damn dream. Every, single, night. Your body seems to crave his kiss, and every time you see him there, without a shirt preparing breakfast strictly for two because he never forgets about you. and how you skip breakfast. So silly.

His messy brown hair, his look destroyed after hours of studying and little sleep, his toned chest, his honey skin. How his arms seems without any muscles but the truth is that this man work out three days a week, how his tiny waist makes his shoulders look bigger. He's just a really attractive guy. That was the first thought that you had when you saw him in the apartment too, he's attractive. It's a fact. But he is really goofy, and messy, and his clothes always mix with yours even if you do laundry two days after him. You like his kind and soft personality, he's nice, and he's really funny. Oh, of course, you don't have feelings for him. At least that's what you think, because you never looked at him in different eyes, or you never glance at his abs more than two seconds, or the way that he licks and bites his own lips when he's focus. Why you should noticed that, right?

“y/n, damn, do I have to wear a shirt to make you concentrate?” totally caught.

"i was not staring," you murmurs, avoiding his gaze and walking casually close to the table, where the two plates with pancakes and strawberries. You reach the fridge grabbing the whipped cream, "I asked you if you wanted whipped cream but I see that you're serving yourself."

"want some?" You asks moving the little bowl with the rest, right in front of him and you look in his eyes, that are shining like a kid. This is the first time that your gaze move down on his lips, with the desire of tasting them.

You guys are watching a movie, a movie that has chosen Jisung and you couldn't really care, your head is too lost in your thoughts. Thoughts about him, full of him. About his eyes, his hair, his smile, his lips.

The TV illuminates the room enough not to have to keep the lights of the living room on; You lie on the sofa, occupying it in half while the other half Jisung occupies it. "Jisung?"

"mh? y/n? wassup?" he murmurs still with his eyes locked on the movie, your mind can't stop, your movements either and you just get closer, on top of him. Jisung freeze are your eyes meets, admiring on each other as your face start to be really close to his.

"can I, kiss you jisung?"

"uh? kiss me?" me murmurs, his voice slowly die in his throat trying to process your words, his body shift lightly, making you move too, you're basically sitting on his lap now. Your mind is spinning, you want to feel his lips after all these dreams.

"I can't stop thinking about it." Your breath catch your throat as jisung's hand land on your cheek, you can barely speak again because his lips press against yours. It feels like magic, you're over the edge now, feeling him this close with this much emotions going on. It's just too much for you and you move back a little, just to break the kiss for some seconds.

The peck was so delicate and light that you need to go for another kiss, this time with more passion, you can hear jisung whimpering in your lips, your hands finds their way to his neck, stroking it lightly as his hands hold your hips.

You start to think why you never kissed him before, because it was even better than the dreams that you had.

[thelurkershideout]

tes summerfest day 1

breath or forbidden

Notes: Brief description of weird and unnatural eyes. No other warnings I can think of.

Miraak had to die. Solsthiem was only the beginning. Hermaeus Mora could not be trusted, but she had little choice.

Staring at the dim candle before her, Adri reminded herself over and over. Miraak had to die. It was the only way. Exhaustion clung to her. Three days since the standing stone. Three days since she heard his voice echo through her mind. Her eyelids grew heavy. 

No! She could not sleep, not yet. Miraak had to die, and as Dragonborn she was the only one who could do it.

Adri returned her attention to the book of riddles in her lap, attempting to keep her mind occupied and alert. She slid her finger tips to the edge of the page, flicking slightly to turn it. The yellowed corner bit into her fingertip. Her eyes snapped shut at the sting.

Then, stillness. Her eyes opened slowly, to the sickly green glow of Apocrypha. Something was different this time. Mora's eyes did not speckle the swirling skies. There were no beastly librarians to greet her. No inky black pools. This chamber seemed far more like the libraries she was used to. Skeletal shelves filled with petrified books and well worn but readable tomes. All lining a pathway ending in a … desk?

Adri approached slowly. A single, low burning, candle was all that lit the space. The desk was covered in scrolls and scraps of paper, each covered in fragmented notes, scribbles, and sketches. Plans.

“You should not be here, Dragonborn.” 

She stumbled, steadying herself against the desk as she turned to face Miraak. He loomed at the edge of the candlelight, only a few feet away.

“Are you afraid I'll learn your secrets?” She asked, mimicking the arrogance in his voice from their first meeting. He did not respond, instead inspecting the skies.

“Afraid you might be replaced by someone more powerful?”

“You have no idea -”

“The true power a Dragonborn can wield? You know nothing about me.”

Miraak stepped forward, closing the gap between them in only a few steps. A gloved hand resting on the desk beside her as he leaned into her space, his mask inches from her face.

“You have no idea what Mora is capable of.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Nothing in Apocrypha remains unchanged by his will.”

His free hand pulled the golden mask from his face. Eyes eerily similar to Mora's, pupils elongated and scaleras blackened, stared into her. Ancient burns long since scarred over crept along pale cheeks that had forgotten the warmth of the sun. Black lips, as though permanently stained by ink, closed into a firm frown.

“Run while you still can, little dragon.”

Adri's hand raised to his cheek, stopping herself just short of touching him. Miraak had to… Fingertips brushed against his skin.

“ENOUGH!!” Hermaeus Mora’s voice shattered through Apocrypha as black tentacles wrapped around her wrist and waist. In an instant she and Miraak were ripped away and everything went black.

“Are you alright?” Talvas’ voice seemed muffled as she blinked awake. She waved him away as she pushed herself from the floor. 

“Neloth.” She said as she leaned against her reading table. The wizard did not look up from his enchanting table.

“I need you to help me defy the Prince of Fate.”

[strawberriemarswrites]

CHAPTER TWO

Chapter Summary: You go out for drinks with your coworkers, with an ulterior motive to see your neighbor at the same time. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ for the story, SFW chapter) TW: Creepy bar patron, attempted drugging, Barto committing a little violence in your name Ao3 Link: Chapter Two (4,566 words)

Two weeks passed without incident. In fact, your perfume even turned back up. It wasn’t where you normally kept it in the bathroom, but sitting on top of your dresser right in plain sight. Go figure. Bartolomeo hadn’t said anything about any suspicious activity around, either, so maybe you were just being a little extra spacey. After all, you were more accustomed to having a roommate or your parents around to help fill in the gaps, so maybe you just needed to be a bit more mindful while you adjusted to living alone.

(Nevermind that you had looked atop the dresser for that perfume, and it wasn’t there before.)

In that span of two weeks you were able to convince some of your coworkers to try a different bar. More specifically, The Sound Barrier, where Bartolomeo worked. Robin was intrigued by the prospect of somewhere new, and agreed. A fellow archives technician, Nami, also agreed, stating she was eager to con some free drinks out of a different sort of crowd than the usual haunts. You were unsuccessful in convincing Vivi, one of the conservators, but she talked another conservator, Drake, into going. Rebecca, an archives specialist, also declined, apologetic as she already had plans to see her aunt.

Of the usual pay-day drinks crew, three out of five (including yourself) wasn't bad, and the addition of Drake meant there would be an extra bit of robust support, given the unfamiliar territory. Plus, Bartolomeo would be there working, so you'd have more than enough people looking out for you that night.

Still, you couldn’t shake the ominous feeling looming over your head. With both you and Bartolomeo out, that left your apartment unprotected from another break-in, a thought that chilled you down to the bone. You considered asking the neighbors that lived below you if they could keep an eye out, but you weren’t entirely trusting that they wouldn’t already be occupied with their usual bickering. And given you were pretty sure the neighbor below Bartolomeo was a near-sighted old woman, that took her out from the running as well. You could ask the landlord, but he should have already been on the lookout for suspicious activity, so he wasn’t likely to have your best interest at heart, either.

You had to rely on blind luck that your apartment would be safe. 

You shook your head, trying not to dwell on the thought for too long. It was supposed to be a fun night, you couldn’t let some hypothetical creep ruin it. With one more look in the mirror, you headed for the door, scooping up your purse on the way and double-checking for your wallet, phone, and keys. Just as you were triple-checking the door was locked, your phone pinged — Robin was outside with Drake and Nami already in the car. You cast one final look at your door, the ominous chill threatening to creep back up your spine, before you shoved the feeling back down and hustled to the elevator.

Everything would be fine. Damn it all, you had to believe that if you wanted to have any fun tonight.

The car that waited outside wasn’t Robin’s, but instead an unfamiliar silver SUV. The backseat window rolled down to reveal her sitting behind the driver, whose silhouette you eventually recognized to be Drake as you approached. Robin smiled and opened the door for you, ushering you in.

“Told you so,” Nami said from the front seat, grinning at Drake smugly.

“I’ll be damned,” he said as you buckled in. “I thought Nami was messing with me when she said you lived here. Didn’t expect it to be —”

“On the shitty side of town?” you interjected. 

Drake nodded, pulling away from the curb.

“What’s the name of this place again?” Nami asked.

“The Sound Barrier,” you answered, fidgeting in your seat. “Thanks for taking me up on this one, by the way. I thought maybe we should try something new.”

Robin smiled knowingly. “You’re sure it doesn’t have anything to do with this mysterious neighbor of yours?”

“Uh... well,” you hesitated, scratching the back of your neck. “Maybe a little.”

“He better not say anything if he catches me getting free drinks from one of his regulars,” Nami said, pulling up the map on her phone.

“If he doesn’t, I will.” Drake said.

“What are you, a cop?”

You giggled despite yourself, feeling a little more relaxed. You didn’t know Drake particularly well, so it was a relief to know he was on the sterner side. Even with that reassurance, you must have still looked a bit uneasy, given that Robin leaned a bit closer to you and asked, “Everything all right?”

Her observation skills were both appreciated and unnerving at times, with very little getting past her. She seemed content enough to make it known she was aware something was up, but you didn’t want to worry anyone else with the break-ins, especially with the current lull in occurrences. However, you knew Robin would be suspicious all night if you didn’t say something.

You smiled, trying not to let the twist in your stomach show. “I’ll be fine. Just nervous — I’ve never seen Bartolomeo outside of the apartment building.”

She tilted her head. “You think he might be different in public?”

“It’s more... He’s never seen me outside the apartment, either. So it feels like this is a chance to know more about each other in a different way than we could from just the brief meetings.”

She laughed, putting a hand up in front of her mouth, though her smile was still clearly visible behind it. “Like seeing something in its natural habitat.”

You laughed, too, adding, “I guess I’m also hoping that I’ll live up to whatever expectations he might have in his head.”

“I think you will,” she said, dropping her hand to reveal her still smiling. “If it helps ease your nerves any, it’s likely he could be thinking the same thing of you.”

That did reassure you some, the tension in your shoulders dissipating. You nodded, and switched subjects, chatting with Robin and Nami, with the occasional input from Drake. The worries you’d had in your mind drifted far behind you as you finally felt like you’d be able to enjoy the night ahead.

Act like you always do, Bartolomeo told himself over and over again. Just gotta act natural.

“You gonna wipe down the same spot all night?” a voice called to him over the live band and bar chatter. He looked up to see his coworker and best friend, Gambia, leaning against the register and giving him a gap-toothed grin.

Bartolomeo rolled his eyes and pushed off the bar counter, draping the sanitation rag over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t have to if you did your job right.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Gambia said, pushing off from the register. “Definitely doesn’t have anything to do with that girl you keep talkin’ about, right?”

The lights were dim enough in the bar that Bartolomeo didn’t have to worry about his ears turning pink. “It might. Not like it’s any of your business.”

“It is if it’s bothering you. She break your heart or somethin’?”

“No!” he snapped a little too quickly, then reeled it back in. “She’s coming by tonight. I don’t wanna make a bad impression.”

Gambia snorted, “You? Bein’ worried about what someone thinks? Doesn’t sound like the Barto I know.”

Bartolomeo folded his arms and leaned against the back bar, averting his eyes. “Just what this one thinks.” 

“All right, fair enough,” Gambia said and put his hands up defensively. “Just wish you’d said somethin’ sooner — maybe Gramma would’ve let us get out the good stuff.”

Bartolomeo cast a sideways glance to his friend and smirked. “Don’t go tellin’ everyone about it, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, you know me. Don’t let it distract you from doin’ what we’re paid to do.” Gambia nodded toward the door. “Speakin’ of which...”

Bartolomeo turned, feeling his heart skip. There you were, sticking out like a sore thumb in a place like this. You were joined by a dark-haired woman and a redhead, who were both equally gorgeous. Beautiful, even. Any other day he’d gladly let either one step on him. But you were perfect, and the only one he had eyes for. He then noticed that bringing up the rear of your group was a tall man with narrow glasses and a scar on his chin, and Bartolomeo felt something in the back of his mind begin to panic. What the hell was wrong with him? Was it that you hadn’t mentioned one of the drinking friends was a guy? It wasn’t like you couldn’t have guy friends, that’d be ridiculous. You were a grown adult, you could have whatever friends you wanted.

Still, he couldn’t shake the sudden flare up of jealousy that swelled in his chest. He refocused his attention to you. You were conversing with the dark-haired woman, who was slowly surveying the area. Her eyes found Bartolomeo, and an odd, almost shrewd smile graced her features before she leaned a bit closer to you, and immediately you whipped your head toward the bar with a wide grin. You waved as your group ushered you along toward a curved booth, and he waved back, unable to keep from mirroring the grin on your face.

“So that’s him, huh?” Nami said to you as Robin and Drake sat down. “You weren’t kidding when you said he’s kind of scary-looking.”

“I thought he’d be scarier,” Robin giggled. “He looks more like a big cat to me. Or a rooster.”

“More like an Oni,” Drake commented, adjusting his glasses. “Vivi and I finished work with a set of masks a few months ago. He reminds me of one of them.”

You turned pink, fidgeting. “He’s not so bad when you know him.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Nami said with a smirk. “And that judgment will be based on whether or not we get the first round free.”

While your group was settling in and figuring out drink orders, Bartolomeo was resisting the urge to jump over the counter to greet you. Any hope he had of appearing casual amidst his internal struggle was crushed when Gambia nudged him.

“That her?” he asked, as if he couldn’t already tell, a shit-eating grin on his face.

The limited lighting did nothing for the bright red that crept up Bartolomeo’s neck. “The one on the left, yeah.”

“Aw, she’s real cute,” Gambia said and nudged him again. “And you still haven’t asked her out yet?”

Bartolomeo turned even more red. 

The blonde sucked his teeth, “Oooh, better do it quick. She looks the type to get snatched out from under ya.”

That statement made Bartolomeo’s stomach churn. He knew Gambia was just talking shit, but something deep inside him fumed at the thought of you with anyone else. He shook his head, pushing down the dark voice in the back of his mind once more. It’d be fine. Sooner or later, either he’d ask you out or you’d beat him to the punch — just not yet. It didn’t feel right yet.

You rushed over ahead of Nami, weaving between other patrons with laser-like focus as you found your way to an empty barstool and hopped up. As Bartolomeo side-stepped to stand opposite you, you grinned and stuck out your tongue. “Told you I’d get them here.”

He grinned back, making your heart skip a beat. “About friggin’ time. I was wondering when they’d give in.”

“You make it sound like I forced them,” you said, putting a hand over your chest in mock-offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m naturally persuasive.”

His grin turned lopsided. “So you’re telling me you didn’t bat those big pretty eyes and beg them to come?”

Your heart skipped another beat. He thinks my eyes are pretty?

Nami approached then, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she leaned over you with a cheeky grin on her face. “Are you all done catching up? I’m dying for a screwdriver already.”

Bartolomeo’s gaze drifted to the redhead behind you, and you tried not to read too much into it, fully aware that Nami caught the eyes of everyone. Still, you couldn’t stop your chest from tightening. With a sheepish smile, you gestured to her and said, “Nami, Bartolomeo. Do not let her convince you to forget the tab.”

“Oh, you killjoy,” she whined, pouting. “Between you and Drake, how am I supposed to have any fun?”

“I can start you off with that screwdriver,” Bartolomeo said with a smirk, putting both hands on the bar and leaning forward, his arms holding him up like an A-Frame. “Anything else I can get for you pretty ladies?”

Again, your chest tightened. Right, he worked at a bar, it only made sense that he’d probably be turning up the charm as part of his job. His “pretty eyes” comment earlier probably didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things.

Then his gaze met yours, and everything fell away. The dim lighting cast dark shadows over his features that made him look all the more intimidating, his amber eyes practically glowing. Between the broad shoulders, the eyes, and his fangs, for a moment you thought he might lunge forward and bite you, sinking sharp teeth into soft flesh with intent to consume you whole.

And then you thought about how maybe you wouldn't mind that.

It occurred to you that Nami had ordered the other two drinks, and Bartolomeo was waiting on yours. Snapping back into reality, you stuttered, “Whatever hard cider you have on tap.”

He smiled, further evoking the image of a hungry predator, and nodded. “You got it.”

Damn his smile. You probably should not have found that as hot as you did.

As the night progressed, you did your best to balance your attention between your coworkers and Bartolomeo. You felt a touch guilty that the scales weighed so heavily in the latter’s favor, as you really did enjoy chatting away with Robin and Nami as well as learning more about the normally reserved Drake. But you couldn’t help yourself from looking over at the bar to try and catch Bartolomeo’s eye, blushing every time he smiled at you. Eventually, Nami decided it was time to start charming some of the other patrons for free drinks, disappearing into a crowd gathered around the small stage at the back of the establishment.

“You think she’s going for the band?” you asked Robin, catching brief glimpses of red hair weaving and bobbing effortlessly amongst the horde of metal heads and punks.

“That’s likely her end goal,” Robin said, sipping at her Manhattan. “She’s probably scoping them out first.”

“And she does this every night you go out?” Drake asked.

You shook your head. “Not every time. Just when she knows she can get away with it.” Hopefully Bartolomeo doesn’t notice. On reflex, you found yourself once again looking over at the bar, smiling at him. This time he was busy with another customer, but you didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched into a wider smile when his eyes flicked over to yours.

“You can go sit at the bar if you really want to.”

Robin’s voice made you start, and you fidgeted with the napkin under your drink. “But — I’m out with you guys, not him. I don’t want to be rude...”

“You’re not being rude,” she said, nudging you lightly. “You wanted to see him tonight, you can go see him. I’m sure Drake and I can manage.”

Drake nodded. “Just don’t let him give you any trouble. We’re right here if he does.”

Your heart fluttered and you stood up, thanking them both and making your way back to the bar.

Bartolomeo nearly tripped on his way to your seat, shooting a glare at Gambia when he noticed and laughed. If you noticed, too, you didn’t show it, giving him that goddamn gorgeous smile of yours that made his heart race. After ordering another hard cider, he leaned atop the counter, his forearms supporting his weight as he bent at the waist. “So uh, you havin’ fun?”

Smooth. Real smooth.

You nodded as you took a drink, pointing to the band. “Nami’s out there doing her thing. Drake — the guy over there —” you gestured over your shoulder “— he’s never come out with us before. Robin got him talking about reptiles though and they didn’t stop for like twenty minutes.” You propped your chin up in your hands. “So I’m over here to bug you while they talk about fossils. I’m all yours.”

It took a not-inconsiderable amount of effort not to blurt out do you really mean that? However there was no hiding the waver in his voice when he said, “You can come bug me anytime, sweetheart. Dunno that I’ll have anything as interestin’ to talk about, though.”

Shit. Did he just call you “sweetheart” out loud? It just popped out, he couldn’t stop it. But he then saw your cheeks turn a very pretty shade of pink, and he latched onto the nickname, immediately forgetting his panic over using it. He wanted to see that blush more.

You tucked a stray hair behind your ear, switching to resting your cheek in one palm. “Honestly, even if I don’t understand at all what someone’s talking about, just listening to them gush about what they love is fun. Anything can be interesting if it’s talked about with a lot of passion like that.”

Bartolomeo grinned. “So, you’re telling me, if I talked your ear off about baseball, you’d just let me do it? No filter?”

“Pretty much,” you giggled, tracing a finger around the rim of your glass. “I’m surprised baseball’s your topic of choice though. You don’t strike me as the sporty type.” You paused, then giggled again. “Pun not intended.”

“Nah, not particularly. It’s just the first thing that came to mind,” he laughed, standing upright and reaching to his back pocket for his wallet. “I do have this really cool card though that someone left behind one night a few years back. Autographed and everything.” 

He showed you the card, depicting a green-haired batter holding three bats — one in each hand, and one between his teeth. You had to admit, it looked cool as hell. “What if someone comes back looking for it?”

“Screw them, finders keepers. And like I said, it’s been a few years. I doubt they’ll come back for it at this point.”

You stifled a snort and took another drink. “So if not sports, what is something you’re really passionate about?”

As he was about to answer, his attention was drawn to the front door, a pair of customers coming in and taking seats at the opposite end of the bar. “Just a sec, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

He couldn’t resist dropping the nickname again. The flush in your cheeks was worth it.

Drake kept an eye on you from the booth, still chatting with Robin about this and that. Vivi had convinced him to go on this outing in her stead with the premise of giving him an opportunity to know his coworkers better, but he knew part of it was a concern for the venue. He’d been to plenty of bars in his life, including a fair share of metal and punk ones, and they’d all been about the same as far as rowdiness. Though, in his experience, the grittier places tended to have the better behaved clientele oddly enough, so while he felt Vivi’s concern was a bit misplaced, he didn’t want to offend her, knowing she cared a lot about the safety of her friends.

Admittedly, he’d been a little shocked to find that this neighbor of yours that Nami and Robin had been gossiping about was so rough-looking, considering in comparison you were on the smaller and softer side. But Drake was never one to judge anyone for their tastes, even if he subconsciously found himself a bit more wary than usual. No doubt the girls would both be reporting to Vivi that the rumors of Bartolomeo’s intimidating visage were true, and if they didn’t he certainly would.

It was at that moment, however, when you were left alone, that someone on the other end of the bar sidled up to the empty barstool on your right, a beer glass in hand. Greasy black hair, a thin, wiry mustache that made him look like a catfish, wearing a fedora and cheap dress pants. Drake caught the action in his periphery, watching carefully as the man tried to push for your attention. It was eventually given, and based on the way you cringed away from him, it was definitely not a comfortable exchange.

“Robin,” Drake said, his voice low as he nodded toward your seat. “We need to help her.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed, and with a sigh she stood. “How underhanded. He came up to her while Rooster was distracted.” She gave Drake an almost mischievous smile, putting a finger up to her lips. “I need to run to the ladies room anyway. I’ll go get her so we don’t cause a scene.”

He nodded, trying not to stare at the sway of Robin’s hips as she gracefully moved to the bar to collect you. You looked beyond relieved for the excuse to get away, throwing a quick wave over to Bartolomeo (who was still somewhat occupied with the new customers) as you slid off your barstool, the creep left alone to stew.

And then Drake’s stomach dropped, his nerves on high alert. You left your drink unattended.

Something that Bartolomeo didn’t miss, either. He was watching from his peripherals as well, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when the creep had approached and started to harass you. He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to pay attention to the drink orders while keeping an eye on the unsavory intruder. He had relaxed slightly when the dark haired woman came to collect you and you both went off to the restrooms, only to be put on edge again when he saw an all-too-familiar movement.

Something was slipped into your drink.

Oh. Hell no. Bartolomeo finished writing down the new drink orders and moved to the tap, giving the unaware sleazebag a death stare that would have made the grim reaper look away. Thankfully, he was distracted by another patron, and his seat was on the way to the tap.

Drake saw the slip as well, and stood to confront the miscreant. He only made it about two steps however, before he saw Bartolomeo pass, and slyly swap the glasses. 

The two men made eye contact, with the sharp-toothed bartender giving Drake a knowing smirk before moving on.

The creep was none the wiser, turning back to “his” drink and taking a long pull.

As you returned to the bar with Robin, you stared at your glass, and your stomach churned. With a curled lip, you pushed it away, looking at Robin over your shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Robin leaned over the counter and flagged down the other bartender. “Can we get the tab?”

After the bar had closed, a very, very inebriated man in a fedora and cheap dress pants was stumbling down the back alley. “Stupid stuck-up bitch and her stupid stuck-up friend,” he slurred, one of the few coherent things he had managed to say all night. “Stupid fuckin’. Bartenders and their. Fuckin’ rules.”

He tripped over his own feet and landed on the concrete with a pained shout, nearly biting his tongue. He just wanted to have fun tonight. He hadn’t had fun in a long time. He couldn’t even get a prostitute these days. Probably because all the ones in town knew him by name and knew he always stiffed them on the payment. 

With a groan he rolled onto his back, trying to blink away the spots in his eyes. Why were the buildings all warped? Why did he feel like he was going to vomit up his whole stomach? What the hell was that shape looming over him with orange eyes?

“Man,” the shape above him said in a gravelly voice that sounded both too close and a thousand miles away, “you look fuckin’ pathetic.”

The creep writhed on the ground, further proving Bartolomeo’s point, and slurred back, “Nnno, yer prophetic...”

Bartolomeo cocked his head, sneering. All he could think of was how this pig, this scum of the earth, was allowed to keep living for so long. How many other bars had he hit up trying to pull what he nearly did to you? What would have happened if you’d encountered him elsewhere? Your friends looked out for you, sure, but what if you’d been alone?

Bartolomeo would have swapped the drinks even if it hadn’t had been you that was targeted. No one tries to drug someone in his bar and gets away with it. What he couldn’t do was convince himself that if it happened to anyone else, he’d be going as far as he currently was to make sure it never happened again. The creep tried to sit up, and Bartolomeo put one foot on his chest, tilting his head the other way. After another beat he lifted his foot, then slammed it down on one hand with a sickening crack. 

This guy picked the wrong place, and he really picked the wrong time.

The creep let out an agonized yell, eyes wide and suddenly alert as he scrabbled at Bartolomeo’s boot. Bartolomeo crouched down, putting more weight on his foot and brandishing a switchblade, pointing it right between the man’s eyes.

“Now that I got your attention,” he drawled, “I’ll speak nice and slow for ya, so maybe it’ll stick in that roofied brain of yours.” He lazily held the blade between his thumb and middle finger, swaying it back and forth. “I ever catch you around here again, you’re gonna lose this hand.”

He put pressure on it for emphasis, drawing forth another pained yell amidst a symphony of crunching bones.

“I ever hear about you trying to dope up anyone else, I’ll take the other one.”

The creep was practically foaming at the mouth, unable to form coherent words between the blinding pain and the drugs in his system. Bartolomeo let the knife slide down, the tip landing right on the bridge of the man’s nose and making him go stock-still.

“If you ever. Ever. Mess with that girl again? With what’s mine?” He bared his fangs in a snarl, “The only drinks you’ll ever get are gonna be through an IV. Get me?”

The man nodded, whimpering feebly.

“Perfect. But, just to make sure you don’t forget...”

Bartolomeo lifted his foot, then slammed the switchblade into the man’s palm. The scream that echoed in the alley made it all the more worth it. He yanked the knife out and wiped the blood off on the man’s shirt before standing, casually nudging him to the side with his boots as he began the walk home. He found himself humming a random tune along the way, satisfaction welling in his chest.

After all, he promised to take care of anyone who dared to mess with you.

[oleander-nin]

Writing advice(hopefully)

I TAKE EVERYTHING BACK I SAID I DO HAVE A METHOD TO WRITING. I JUST DIDN'T REALIZE IT WAS A METHOD BECAUSE I'VE DONE IT FOR SO LONG.

advice under cut

Before you write something, flesh the ENTIRE thing out. I don't mean like kinda do a couple word summary, I mean write the basics before you write how the basics go together. You want to write about a picnic? Flesh out things they might say during it, what their bringing, who's making the food, etc etc.

Examples from my own writing doc for my most recent posted fic->

As you can see, it's long, and tells me most of what I need. It's also not organized, and many things are misspelled or grammatically incorrect. This is because my main goal was to get a basic plan out, not to make it look pretty. I also had three slightly different ideas I could go with before deciding on which I wanted. The more you have down, the easier it will be. I also color code mine, but that's not necessary, it's just ease of use. I can explain my color coding if needed, but I won't until asked.

2. Write in chunks. Do you have that really specific scenario already planned out? Write it first. You can make the rest around it, but once you get at least that small bit out, the rest can come naturally.

3. Keep yourself occupied. I get bored easily if I'm just writing, so I have to be doing other things at the same time. Just make sure it's something simple so you don't get distracted. I personally use my cat as to keep my stimulated(?) enough to continue. You could mimic something like this by putting on music/shows in the background, or writing multiple fics at once.

4. Don't force yourself if you can. I know I said I do earlier, but that was mostly a joke. I write to deal with stress, so writing in itself calms me down. It's difficult to do something if I'm not perfectly in tune with it. If a request is proving to be difficult, or an idea isn't doin what you want, change it up a bit until it fits into the puzzle better. You'd rather have a changed fic than no fic.

5. Use prompt generators for ideas if you're stuck. I personally have a big tin of cookie fortunes and verbs/nouns so I pick two up and create a story around that. It helps get your brain going. And you can keep doing this until something sparks.

6. Stay as focused as you can. Close other tabs, keep your eyes on your writing, stuff like that. I know this may seem to conflict with the 'keeping yourself occupied' one, but you really have to find the right balance for you. For example, I can't have music playing, but I CAN talk to other people while I write. Play around until you find your zone.

7. Try not to edit as you go. It's okay to fix a word or two as needed, but once something takes over 5 minutes to fix, you should skip it and move on. Your main goal should be able to get it all down so you have something to edit eventually.

8. If you forget a word, don't dwell on it too much. Just put something as a safeholder(ie: Elephant, Jumanji, etc), highlight it, and move on. You can shoot a friend a text to help find the word, but don't stress if nothing matches what you're thinking of. You can figure it out after, or find a new word.

9. If you get stuck while writing, go back about three to five sentences and read it over. See if you can continue going, or find what you need to change. It doesn't have to be a huge change, it just has to be enough to get you going again. And if you can't figure it out? Skip it and write the rest and figure out the transition later.

10. Use references throughout you're writing. Whether it's on the world, injuries, dialogue, emotion portrayal, or anything in between, do research and find references. It can help make connections in your brain as well as make it easier to write. For many fanfics, if you look up the fandom's wiki, their personalities will be included in their character's article.

I think that's it for now, I might add more later. I really hope this make an inkling of sense, I got frustrated after Tumblr deleted half of what I wrote the first time around. Apologies for the rambles, I am neither good with words, neither with explaining myself in a coherent manner. If anyone needs/wants extra clarification, don't be shy to ask. And my sincerest apologies for not saying this in a reblog @itsyagurlchip, but it was starting to get long and I hate how you can't collapse reblogs so I put it here. If you need me to, I can copypaste and put it as a reblog.

[hersweetrevenge]

corey cunningham headcanons [volume three]

corey has my heart, i want to know every single detail about him, and if i am not given that information then i will simply make it up (he told me through prophetic dreams). based on this set of questions. and if you missed the previous instalments, no you didn't: volume one and volume two.

[credit where credit is due, some of these hcs are shared with @/slutforstabbings, and i have merely adopted into my own belief system and expanded on certain points that i latched onto, so please go read through blake's stuff too because they actually know what they're talking about !!]

WARNING for angst, brief talks of sex, and mentions of child abuse, child death, mental health, trauma and sexuality.

[image sources: X, X]

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

corey had a pretty isolated childhood, the internet wasn't really a thing for a while, joan put a lot of restrictions on his television time, and he never had play dates or the chance to hang out with people outside of school. therefore corey is the daydream king, always in his own little world. corey had a lot of spare time and he can sit and zone out for hours, unbothered, if he has the time. he's been chastised so many times by joan for not paying attention or being away with the fairies.

however, that's not to say he can't pay attention when he needs to, he has a very good attention span when he has something to focus on, like school work or reading or watching movies. but, if it's a mindless task he can do without thinking then his mind does tends to wander.

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

i've said this before but the way having a laughing fit with corey until my sides hurt would literally fix me.

corey has a funny sense of humour, kind of dark but kind of dorky. pre-accident corey laughs pretty easily. at school he had a kind of off-beat friend group who had an overall off-beat sense of humour that occupied them in the cafeteria or while they slacked off in gym class.

post-accident corey holds back from making his own jokes or being funny, like he doesn't know the social rules anymore. like he doesn't deserve to laugh or thinks people will be mad at him for thinking he can be funny.

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

as previously mentioned, corey has a lot of time to think. he struggles to sleep well at night and honestly his daydreaming can make things worse if he latches onto a thought and keeps following it when he should be trying to clear his mind.

if he wants some stimulation though, he goes on wikipedia. he will fall asleep having fallen down a wiki rabbit hole and wake up in the morning on the page for like the 1847 great fire of bucharest with no memory of how he ended up there.

How easy is it to earn their trust? How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

it's not that easy to earn corey's trust. corey is used to being in a pretty emotionally volatile environment, so he does a lot of premature damage control around people that he doesn't know well enough to read their moods and behaviour. however, once he feels more comfortable, he's a lot more open (though still has a sense of wariness in the back of his mind). basically, it's not impossible to earn his trust.

post-accident corey is a different story though, he has an automatic distrust of everyone. he can't assume anyone intentions are solely good for a long, long time. honestly, he doesn't trust most people, he canonically only goes to one gas station because he trusts they won't speak to him. and he distrusts his co-workers at prevo for different reasons, i.e. he's been low-level pranked more times than he cares to remember.

What triggers nostalgia for them most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

corey gets good nostalgia and bad nostalgia.

bad nostalgia is usually something to do with joan, or remembering how he felt as a child when he was on edge so often. spaghetti truly was joan's worst meal so the smell, taste, texture and look of spaghetti is something he can't really stand anymore. if he never eats spaghetti again, it'll be too soon. rabbit paraphernalia give a lot of bad nostalgia.

corey's sense of good nostalgia is pretty specific. good nostalgia comes from watching old movies. he loves westerns and anything cowboy adjacent. a lot of the shows he watched as a kid were older cartoons so he gets a lot of nostalgia from those too. the smell of night time, where everything feels kind of dewy is good nostalgia for him, as well as the smell of the woodwork room at school.

What were they told to stop doing most often as a child?

i've mentioned before that as a baby, corey was actually very content and not fussy at all, which joan was unreasonably pleased about -- he was her perfect, happy, chubby-cheeked baby. however, once he hit the terrible twos and developed some autonomy, that's when joan's control issues started to really kick in with her parenting.

joan told corey off for doing all sorts of things as a child -- fidgeting too much, being too boisterous, getting grass stains on his clothes, not finishing his dinner, meddling with the rabbits (or anything else around the house), watching cartoon network, not holding her hand around the store, playing with a kid she doesn't approve of, asking too many questions -- the list is honestly endless, and not all of these misdemeanours have any logic behind them other than joan's moods and keeping corey on his toes.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

he swears sometimes but not that much. his first swear word was probably 'shit' (he overheard joan mutter it once), like out in the yard at recess him and his little friends all went around in a circle and said the worst swears they knew. once he hit middle school and high school, swearing becomes more common and he sprinkles it through his vocab. then when he starts at prevo it's a much more rough-and-ready attitude to language and he gets (light-heartedly) teased for how much more reserved he comes across compared to the other mechanics.

joan would kill him if she ever heard him swear, so he'd never dream of swearing in front of her. he has a distinct line he draws between his language at home and outside.

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

corey lies a lot, but none of his lies weigh too heavily on his conscience.

corey would sneak out at night to parties and joan never found out about it. he can navigate his house is total darkness as to not wake his mom, and to his credit joan never found out. he used to lie about his day when he was in college all the time, and he lies saying that he comes straight home after work now.

i guess you could say he emotionally lies a lot? it's easier to placate joan with being agreeable than to admit anything (to himself or joan).

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

joan used to (and still does) tell him off for fidgeting so he will restrain himself until he can leave the room and will then become a grizzly bear and itch his back on the nearest doorframe.

Are they easily embarrassed?

yes. end post.

but seriously, he is pretty easily embarrassed. corey has never had a very good self esteem, he honestly is under the impression he's kind of unlikable and that all his actions are under some kind of social scrutiny.

pre-accident his self confidence was healing a little bit with his growing independence, so he could more easily brush things off but awkward moments still stick in his brain for him to agonise over later.

although he's learnt to deal with it in most situations, if he's feeling more vulnerable or he's with someone he really likes/admires then he does not cope well when he feels like he's being made fun of -- he gets all defensive and sulky.

What is their favourite number?

i don't think corey has a favourite number, but if he had to pick one, i think it'd either be something like a mathematically "special" number, or something sentimental like his dad's birthday.

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

oh man, this is not corey's forte at all. corey does not have a very good grasp on (his own) boundaries or the lines between different types of relationships.

i've said this a million times before (and no one has stopped me yet heehee), but because he's so used to the lines being pretty blurry with joan and having such an insular upbringing, he doesn't really know how to draw lines between how he loves someone. he's a real all or nothing type of person -- he's only ever learnt how to put all his feelings onto one person. joan wants that person to corey, because corey is that person to her.

subsequently, corey has only really experienced familial love in this abusive way, so projects the opposite (and what he reasons to be "normal") onto his imagined relationship with his father, idolising him to an unrealistic extent.

platonic is a sort of grey area for him, he tends to feel emotions either very intensely or not at all. he can go from really "loving" someone (either a friend he already has or someone he wishes he could befriend) to being mostly indifferent. the strength of his emotions tend to mean he can't really pinpoint exactly what he desires from the friendship/relationship. that's not to say he doesn't understand what "being friends" is, he does, but it doesn't always feel as poignant for him. it's something he was starting to figure out in high school and college, but then regressed with after the accident.

[this isn't the case for everyone] for corey romantic attraction and sexual attraction are usually linked, so romance does becomes slightly easier to differentiate. however, coming back to his boundary issues, even if he undeniably feels romantic love for someone, he's hesitant to communicate it unless he's figured out "the rules". everyone has rules (boundaries) to learn, and once he understands them, corey knows how to play the game -- he can do what he has to to be loved/wanted/tolerated enough to satiate his own feelings.

Why do they get up in the morning? 

currently, it's because ronald will kick his ass if he doesn't show up to work. well, ronald is usually pretty lenient on him, (maybe too lenient, and the other mechanics know corey doesn't get as much shit because he's ronald's step-kid). corey does actually like going to work though, his dream didn't pan out the way he expected but he does love being a mechanic -- it's just dampened by the rest of his circumstances.

corey has never been very good at getting up in the morning though, and back when he was at school he was no stranger to nearly missing the bus every morning.

during the manslaughter trial, he had so much to do, between trips to his lawyers office and then the courthouse once the trial actually starts, he is stressed enough that he gets up and ready for the day pretty early and then just sits and worries until someone tells him what to do.

after the trial though, he honestly just doesn't get up in the morning. he has no job, no social life, and honestly no reason to do anything at all. he spends most of his time in bed, unless joan nags him into showering, eating or running errands with her, or if he has an appointment with his shrink.

 Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? 

as previously mentioned, corey is pretty self conscious so he won't admit to a crush under any circumstances, and he doesn't have a lot of his own experiences to talk about, so he's kind of refrained when talking about sex. he is a known prude, to be honest.

but, he is also a teenage boy with a weird friend group, so sex is a frequent topic. he can't talk about sex in regards to himself at that point, but he'll laugh at jokes and is kind of enthralled by hearing anecdotes (not that his friends have many).

in a relationship, i think it takes corey a while to open up and be comfortable talking about sex outside of doing the act itself. dirty talk makes him blush, and he's never really had a lot of experience or opportunity to seriously think about what he likes and then be able to convey that out loud.

 What are their thoughts on marriage? 

i don't think corey cares about the legal aspects, but he does like the idea of marriage. devoting yourself to one person and one person only, whom you love dearly, forever and ever until you both die? literally exactly what corey wants, the legal part doesn't really matter.

the only wedding he's been to was when joan and ronald got married at the courthouse. he was 15 and honestly had surprisingly few feelings about the whole thing -- he caught on pretty early on that his mom and ronald were hardly "in love" but this is what adults do, so here he is in his best clothes and thinking about the wedding cake he'll get to eat later. this is partly why he doesn't care too much about the legal side; anyone can get married, but the real true proven commitment if what love really is.

corey would be more than happy with a courthouse wedding himself, he just wants to be with his s/o forever, so a simple, no guests, sign on the line type wedding is good enough to get the job done.

 What is their preferred mode of transportation? 

motorbike, of course. he knew his dad had ridden a motorbike since he found some old photos, but corey never actually rides one himself until ronald gives him the kawasaki. he knew theoretically how to ride, because he knows the mechanics of a basic motorbike, but he truly learns as he goes when he fixes up his own bike. the motorbike gives him a huge sense of freedom, and fulfils all of his easy rider (1969) and the wild one (1953) fantasies.

corey learnt how to drive at 16 through drivers ed, but joan rarely lets him drive her car, and he obviously can't afford his own. sometimes she lets him drive them home from the store, but she is a serious backseat driver so it's sort of just a nightmare for everyone involved.

corey hasn't travelled very far before, so he's never been on a train, but i think he'd enjoy it. long journeys where he can zone out and just look at the landscape? a very good combination for corey.

and how can we forget his trusty bicycle. corey learnt to ride a bike as a child, joan wasn't a very good teacher, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly anyway. corey has had his current bike for almost 10 years now. the chain constantly comes loose, and he's had to tape up the seat and the handle grips more times than he can count. it mostly does the job, and it did give him a lot more freedom as a teenager than he'd had before that.

 Who do they most regret meeting? 

is it cliche to say the allens? maybe so, but it's definitely the allens.

if he never met the allens then jeremy wouldn't have died and corey would have gone off to college and got his degree and a graduate job at mercedes or boeing or somewhere and --

mostly corey tries not to think about the "what ifs" but they do creep into his mind.

[and, if you're that way inclined, if corey had never met roger he could have saved himself so, so much heartache, and maybe not have ruined his perceptions of relationships for the foreseeable]

 Could they be considered lazy? 

on a superficial level, maybe. he sleeps in late and doesn't do any housework, so maybe out of context he could seem lazy, but he actually has a really good work ethic and likes to be doing something. joan doesn't enlist him to do chores because chores are skills and she wants him to be dependent on her.

he definitely is not lazy at work though. when he first started a prevo, he mostly just did grunt work and the easy tasks that the other mechanics were too busy for but still needed to get done. he pulled his weight, no one can deny that. a few years in, he still doesn't handle many full jobs himself, but he is trusted to do more specialised things.

 How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

joan ingrained it in him to feel guilty about a lot of things that aren't his fault. baseline guilt like that he can cope with, he just grovels and submits himself enough to earn forgiveness and then the whole thing starts over the next time joan finds a bone to pick.

after the accident though, his guilt is pretty constant. everything serves as a reminder of what happened, and even if he got acquitted, he does feel like it was at least partly his fault jeremy died.

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? 

corey has a great memory but he doesn't really have any particular system, things just stick with him. he's great with remembering conversations, and when he was studying he could retain information in maths/science pretty easily, but his "less strong" subjects required more work on his part.

he does remember all the states and their capitals because of the animaniacs song.

What memory do they revisit the most often? 

it's not his most frequent, but there's this memory that corey has about his dad that usually comes to him when he's on the cusp of sleeping and awake. subconsciously, i think he's aware that it's probably a false memory. wally "died" before corey could really form any proper memories of him, but he loves this one anyway. corey remembers himself, as a baby, laughing while his dad is holding him, maybe he's playing with him, or bouncing him on his knee, but the details are pretty fuzzy -- it's barely a fragment of a memory but it makes corey happy.

a memory that has involuntarily has made it's home in corey's brain is from the accident. the blood was bad, but mostly it's the sound that corey can't forget. that sick thud sound.

How do they feel about children? 

pre-accident corey didn't care much about children. he doesn't dislike them, but he doesn't really interact with them (he doesn't have any family, and at the houses he does yard work, the parents tend to keep their kids out of his way so he can work without dodging any kids). he's kind to them though, if a little awkward.

post-accident, corey avoids kids as much as possible. he's no more mean to them, but seeing kids just brings back too many memories of the accident and also it just is not good to be seen near kids when you're regularly called a kid killer in public.

corey never wanted his own kids. maybe in some half-baked daydream he thought about a life of college, then a salary job and marriage and 2.5 kids, but i don't think he ever took it seriously.

part of him kind of wants the chance to be a better parent than his ever were, but he also worries that he'd just fuck his kids up like his parents did him. maybe he'd be unable to break the cycle (no matter how badly he wanted to) and be destined to become a helicopter parent -- trying his best to protect his child but ultimately smothering them.

to be honest though, i think his idea of love is so skewed towards obsession, that a kid would just get in the way. he wants to be the only person his s/o loves, and they will be the only person he loves in return, a baby is going to take that love away from him.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal? 

at one point, all corey wanted was to go to college and get out of his house, out of haddonfield. he wanted that more than anything else, and if he just worked hard enough, for just a little bit longer, he'd make it. if he were in a better position (more supportive family, better socio-economic status) his goal would be much easier to attain, but if he did have those benefits, would he feel so strongly about that goal?

i feel like even though college is his way out, corey requires and enjoys mental/intellectual stimulation enough that he would want to go to college anyway, even if things were better for him at home.

post-accident, he doesn't have a goal at all beyond surviving, and even then we see his commitment to that goal is pretty tenuous.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? 

ahh well if you read my hcs about corey's sexuality, you would already know. but that will not stop me repeating those hcs here.

corey doesn't really consciously label his sexuality, but if he was asked point blank i think he could probably connect himself with bisexuality, but he's way more of a euphemism person -- "swing both ways".

[myblurryreality]

Teen Wolf Tangled AU

Sterek

A/N: I attempted to write something to the effect of Tangled. @hotgirlstiles. With some differences. I hope it is an okay read. Let me know if I should continue.

_______________________________________

Stiles was bored again.

He'd already read the new books that Gerard had brought him three times already. The tower was clean and there were no more chores to occupy his time.

He had climbed down the tower in hopes that the fresh air and green fields would offer a balm to his boredom. The effort proved pointless.

He was sprawled in the grass and soaking in the sun when something passed over the boundary.

"Bored again, are we."

Stiles rolled to his side to face the voice. Opening his eyes, he watched as shadowy darkness shrunk down into an unassuming black fox.

"You were gone for so long this time! I thought you'd abandoned little old me." Stiles pouted dramatically.

"Never. Little Hibana, you're stuck with me." He responded as he made his way to the boy.

While Stiles was trying to play it off as a joke, he knew that he feared being in this place alone with no one but that wretched man as occasional company.

Stiles gave a small smile as his arms curled around the body of the fox.

"I missed you." Stiles breathed in the fur of his companion. "He paid a visit while you were gone. He said he'd be gone for longer this time. That I'd have to ration the supplies. It was the usual amount."

The vibration of a growl ran through the foxes body.

"Those meager scraps aren't enough for you already and he dares demand you spread them even thinner!" Snarled the fox.

Stiles sat up and looked the fox in the eyes. "We'll be fine. We always are. We'll survive and we'll both escape our chains. You and me, Kurai. We'll be free."

Kurai huffed, "Of course we will. It is only a matter of time."

He got to his feet and shakes his fur out. "Come, let us go inside. I brought food and was even able to aquire you a few things."

Stiles clambered to his feet in excitement. Eyes shining in anticipation, Kurai always brought him the best stuff. "Why didn't you say you had stuff. Let's go, let's go!"

Kurai chuckled and followed after the hyperactive boy. He would be considered a man by most in a few days, but would always be a boy to Kurai. What's 18 years to a millennia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek was tired.

He had been on the run for days, ever since Kate had spotted him buying supplies for the pack. He had run in hopes of shaking them off but had gotten shot. Whatever was on the arrow made his body feel heavy. It was sheer adrenaline and determination that he was still able to keep moving. He was able to trick them into going the wrong direction, but he knew that if he didn't find somewhere to hunker down that they'd catch up to him.

A stray wind rustled the foliage to his left. It sounded as if there was a cave or opening behind the greenery. Decision made, Derek walked to his left and pushed his way past the bushes and curtain of vines.

Which led him into what he assumed was a cave at first, until he noticed light filtering in around a bend.

Ears perked, he crept forward while listening for any person or animal. It would just be his luck to get away from the hunters to then encounter a bear.

There were no sounds to be heard. Still cautious, he rounded the bend and walked through another curtain of vines into a clearing. All at once, as if he'd entered a bubble, sound filled his ears. Birds singing, a babbling brook leading into a small pond, and the wind rustling through leaves. It looked like a picture from a fairytale and the tower in the center just added to that thought.

There were no sounds or scents of any people around. It seemed that no one had been here in some time. The likelihood of anybody finding this place was low. He could rest here and then make his way back to his pack. His family had to be worried. Hopefully, they wouldn't do anything rash.

Derek walked up to the tower and circled it. His eyebrows furrowed.

"What idiot builds a tower with no way to get up it."

He let out a long sigh and flicked out his hand. Claws decorated the tip of his fingers. Reaching up, he dug his hand into the stone wall and started the tiring climb up. His body was getting heavier but he was determined to get into the tower. Just a little more effort and he could rest.

Grunting and growling, he fought his weakening body to make it to the tower window. Until finally, he was able to set his feet inside. Before he could take another step further, pain burst on the side of his head.

'Just my fucking luck.' He thought as he fell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles chest was heaving and his fingers were white where they gripped his new bat that Kurai brought him. It was beautifully carved and made out of Rowan wood. It was, as demonstrated, quite effective.

"Kurai! How did he get here? I thought the wards made it so no one could find this place."

"They do. Mm, I wonder?"

Kurai slicked forward to sniff at the prone figure. Upon catching the scent, his muzzle pulled back into a grin that showed off his sharp teeth.

"I believe, that this just may be our ticket out of this place."

[that-left-turn]

Oh my, I really enjoyed tumblr more than other sm because usually people are only occupying themselves with things they love and interact with mutuals. It's sad that discourses of Twitter/X are now here too.

It's nice that you're taking your time to answer every anon especially because it's always very thorough but if we're starting to go to other fandoms and asking why people are doing this and that even when they never interacted with them is annoying at some point.

Yes, out of 1000 people in a fandom are 10 asshats. That goes for EVERY fandom.

I'm sorry I've annoyed you. The asks were unexpected, but I've only responded to what's in my inbox... (I guess that makes me an agony aunt(ie)? 🤪) Regardless, I'll happily talk about less depressing Caryl-y things if some anon wants that.

Due to an ask (a while back) about Stick Figures, I opened the outline and realized that it's very weird to start a chapter with smut. Plot focused smut, even. Do people reread a fic when it gets an unexpected update? A sudden sex scene with no buildup (unless you're coming off reading the previous chapters) seems like a belly flop from the high dive and I can't move it to later in the chapter because I have to keep pace with the season.

There's something else (which I wish I had addressed earlier) that also bothers me about this story. It's not big enough to warrant a rewrite, especially since I want to finish the fic in hopefully three chapters, but the lack of this minor arc also makes it less than. I guess it's normal to wish you were better, but coupled with the awkward(ly positioned) sex scene, it feels like my shortcomings are having a laugh at my expense. 🎪🤹‍♀️🎟️ 🙄

Anyway, the Stick Figures sex scene has me pondering what a canon scene mid-S11 would've, could've... should've(?) looked like. It has to deliver emotional payoff for fans but still leave room for further character development and engagement, and the spinoff. (More to think about than the straight-up gratification at the end of a fic.) Caryl sex would have to be a scene aimed at adults—emotional maturity, not ratings-wise—because there are some heavy topics to lift and these two characters are middle-aged, so their concerns are different from reasonably well-adjusted 30-somethings who haven't had false starts and do-overs.

I'm not sure what it would've looked like in the hands of someone who wanted McReedus to put their chemistry on the back burner. I guess there might also be an overwhelming fear with slow burn and delaying viewer gratification this long, that no matter what TPTB do, it won't be enough. Fans have had time to build up expectations and various head canons for how it should go. A mixed audience reception this late in the game is not good. Caryl needs a big statement.

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 257

Leah

The flight had been long. Leah had not traveled to Earth many times, but she was learning to enjoy it. Robbie had dozed next to her after a long day of classes. Leah had occupied herself with some assignments Dr. Boyce had given her.

It was late when they reached the shuttle depot. Andre led the way and his team followed. One could argue that Andre was really more Leonard’s security, but Leo didn’t need him at the academy. On the other hand, Andre and his team had been to San Francisco, to Starfleet Academy and were familiar with it, making them a good choice to accompany the crown princess.

A short drive and they were in the lobby of a very pleasant hotel. Leah knew Leonard had arranged and taken care of everything and he had chosen well apparently.

“Robert!” called a familiar brogue and a moment later Alasdair was hugging his grandson. Leah looked behind them where Granddad had come from.

“Hello Granddad,” Leah said as the older man turned to her. She quickly hugged him tightly.

“Where’s Mum?” Robbie asked the question Leah was wondering as well.

“She’s getting a table.” Granddad gestured to a small restaurant behind them. “She thought ye might be hungry after that long flight.”

Leah shared a glance with Robbie.

“That sounds good,” she nodded.

“Your highness?” Averie said quietly.

“Yes?” Leah turned around to face the female member of Andre’s team.

“All checked in. Keys for you.” She handed them to Leah.

“We’ll run the bags up then join you,” Robbie said to Granddad.

“No need sir,” Averie said quickly. “Andre and Anthony are already taking care of it.”

Granddad chuckled. “Let’s go see yer mum then.”

Leah snuggled in tight as Robbie wrapped his arms around her when they had settled into bed. They’d had a quick, light meal with Francine and Granddad then all had gone to their rooms. They’d be up very early after all to surprise Scotty.

The crown princess closed her eyes and listened. She had not stayed in a hotel in ages and never with Robbie before. It was strange to hear the muffled sounds of the city. At home the palace was away from such noises.

“It’s noisy,” she giggled against Robbie’s chest.

“Too loud?” Robbie asked, concerned immediately.

“No, just different. Sort of soothing I guess,” Leah said. “Guess I should get used to it if I have to travel.” She tilted her face up and met Robbie’s lips.

“What travel?” Robbie asked. Leah could just make out his confused look in the bit of light coming through a crack in the curtains.

“Diplomatic things and such. Keep up relations with others in the Federation. At some point Father will take me with him, or even send me alone perhaps.” Leah yawned.

“Alone?”

Leah ran a hand along Robbie’s back. “With security,” she reassured him. “Probably Dr. Boyce as well.” She yawned again. “It won’t be for a while, don’t worry. Get some sleep; we’ve got to be up early.”

The cafe Leonard had chosen for them to surprise Scotty was warm and homey. Leah squeezed Robbie’s hand; she could sense his excitement at surprising his brother.

“Any minute,” Francine said quietly. She tucked a comm back into a pocket. “It’s been ten minutes since Leonard said they left campus.”

Leah reached with her free hand for the tea in front of her. It had cooled just enough to not burn her mouth and she took a sip.

“There they are,” said Granddad. He could see out the window and down a bit of the street. He stood up and the other three at the table followed suit. The three members of the security team were sitting nearby at another table out of the way. Though they could still move quickly into action if anything were to happen.

Leonard opened the door of the shop and gestured to Scotty to enter first.

Scotty’s face broke into a wide grin.

“Leah! Robbie!”

“Bràthair!” Robbie got to Scotty first and the pair hugged tightly. Leah gave Leonard a quick hug and waited for her turn to greet her brother in law.

Part 258

Scotty

“Oh my gosh, I cannae believe that ye are really here! I mean… I kinda had the feeling that the two of ye would come, but it’s still so great to see ye!” Scotty exclaimed after he had hugged both his brother and sister-in-law.

Leah sent him a bright grin.

“And it’s great to see you too. Mother and Father send you their best regards. They would have loved to come with us, but you know how it is. A king’s duty and stuff like that,” the princess explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Scotty waved a hand at her.

“I understand. Tell them that it’s no big deal. After all, we’ll see each other for Christmas.”

“Come on, let’s all sit down. I bet ye lads are just as hungry as we are,” Francine said to Scotty and Leonard.

They all found a place to sit around the table and it didn’t take too long for breakfast to get served.

“So? Who’s idea was this?” Scotty eventually asked with a smile. He glanced at his husband, already expecting him to be the mastermind behind everything.

“It was Robbie’s idea, in first place. I just planned everything so that it would work without any problems,” explained Leonard, feeling the eyes on him.

“It is so lovely. Thanks to ye I get to see both of me lads,” Francine said, squeezing the hands of both of her sons. Scotty was sitting on her right, while Robbie had taken the chair to her left.

Leonard smiled at her.

“I’m always glad if I can be of service.”

They chatted a bit about how Robbie and Leah’s flight had been and where they were staying, all while enjoying the lovely food.

“So, this is San Francisco, huh?” Leah eventually asked, looking out of the window. “Can you show us around after breakfast? Or at least show us the oh-so-popular Starfleet Academy?”

Scotty chuckled and gave her a nod.

“I’m quite sure that we can do that, lassie. Right?” He glanced at Leonard, not sure if his husband had different ideas or more surprises planned for the day.

“We can,” Leonard agreed.

“Well then, we’ll leave ye young folks to it. Maybe we can meet again for dinner,” Alasdair suggested once they had left the cafe.

“Of course. That’s a great idea,” Leah said. She appeared to be really happy and excited to be out of the palace and Scotty hoped that it would be a relaxing weekend trip for her and Robbie.

Francine hugged all of them extra tight before they headed separate ways.

After Scotty and Leonard had shown the academy to their siblings, Leonard led the way back into town. Scotty had no idea where they were going, but it seemed like Leah and Robbie knew for they exhanged smiles the whole time.

“Starfleet Academy looks interesting enough, but the university of Georgiares is really good too. I hope that I can show ye around the next time ye visit,” Robbie said to his brother and Scotty nodded. He really looked forward to that.

He couldn’t help but shake his head the slightest bit when he thought about how upset he had been at first when Robbie had told him that he wouldn’t join Starfleet. He had thought that it would tear them apart. But it hadn’t. Not the slightest bit.

Robbie was still a part of his life, even though they were studying at different schools. Nothing could ever tear apart what they shared. The brotherly bond kept them tied together. And it always would.