#i can already feel second hand embarrassment on behalf of him

[elegantwoes]

I just saw a reddit threat on what characters could do the most damage if they read the book series and now I can’t help but wonder what would the Starks reaction be if they read ASOIAF together.

[moamidzyism]

too much (k.th)

ʚ♡⃛ɞ when your ex-boyfriend shows up at your door, the last thing you want to do is let him in. but his phone is dead, and the storm outside isn't letting up anytime soon, and he really needs some dry clothes (and a warm body)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 3087 angst + smut ౨ৎ minors DNI ˚⁺。˚ ୨୧ taehyun x fem!reader, exes to lovers, unprotected sex [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

he’s standing outside your door, his hair and clothes drenched by the relentless downpour, an awkward smile clinging to his face like a mask. his soaked clothes also cling onto his frame and your mind swarms with confusion and frustration.

“what are you doing here?” you demand.

ignoring your question, he looks past you. his eyes fixated on the warmth emanating from your cozy, dry apartment. without waiting for an invitation, he asks, “can i come in?” reluctantly, you step aside. not because you really wanted him there, but because you wanted to shield your wooden floors from the relentless storm outside.

the wetness that clung to him mirrored the unresolved tension between you – heavy, uncomfortable, cold.

“thank you,” he mumbles, shedding himself of his sodden jacket and hanging it on your coat rack. the wetness drips onto your floors but he doesn’t acknowledge it. instead he pushes his usually meticulously styled hair, out of his face, where it clung in disarray.

your irritation grows as you press him again. “taehyun, again, what are you doing here?”

“i was in the area, and the storm started. this was the only place i knew that was nearby,” he casually explains.

“you live half an hour away from here.” he shrugs again, as if everything had lost its significance in the face of the storm outside, even space, time, and the months of silence between the two of you. “let me get you some dry clothes,” you relent. you disappear into your room. a brief flashback to your painful breakup flickers in your mind.

you looked at your phone again. it had been five minutes since you last called him and forty five minutes since he was supposed to meet you at the restaurant. he was the one who had originally planned to come here, but fifteen missed calls and twenty five unread text messages later, he was nowhere to be seen. and once again, you looked like the idiot who actually believed that your boyfriend was capable of changing.

you looked up at your waiter, who shot you an apologetic glance. gathering your things, you walked out the restaurant, but not before leaving a fifty dollar tip to your waiter for the second hand embarrassment he probably faced that evening on your behalf.

you fished around the back of your closet for old clothes and grabbed a towel from your dresser. you return to the living room and hand him the towel without a word. he takes it, you fingers brushing briefly. he dries his face and his hair, his eyes never leaving you. you try your hardest to avoid eye contact with him. another crash of thunder rumbles through the house, and for a moment, you both look towards the sound.

when your gazes return to each other, you shove the dry clothes towards him. taehyun’s eyes linger on the clothes, an extra large pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. he quirks an eyebrow and scoffs. “moved on already?”

“they are my brother’s,” you respond bluntly, a subtle defiance in your tone. “and you can leave when the storm clears up.” you leave him to change in solitude. the storm outside rages and you can’t shake the feeling that this unexpected reunion might dredge up more than just old memories.

you got home that night and stripped yourself of the new dress that you had just gotten earlier that day. you ought to burn it. any reminder of the humiliation you just faced had to disappear off the face of the earth. you checked your phone, seeing if taehyun had finally remembered that you existed or finally decided that you were worthy of a response. but the only notification you had received in the time since you left the restaurant was an email with a free shipping coupon from an online store that you swore to never shop at again.

you turned off your phone and went to bed. there was no point in staying up, checking your phone every five minutes to see if he would actually text you back. tomorrow, you decided, you will be done with taehyun, for good this time.

you are pulled out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. you look up to see your ex-boyfriend standing in his newly dried clothes. “hey,” he says softly, his hands finding a home on the back of his neck. his gaze is uncertain, as if he’s not entirely sure how you will receive him.

“yes?” he slowly opens the door further.

“i just wanted to apologize for what i said earlier.” he cautiously inches towards you.

“it’s fine, tae.” you take a deep breath, your voice softening ever so slightly. he stops himself from smiling at the use of the nickname.

“no, it’s not fine,” he begins. “you let me into your house and i insult you after ten minutes of being here.” he shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to bear the weight of your gaze.

“taehyun, what are you doing here?” a note of frustration creeps into your voice.

“i wanted to see you.” he replies simply.

you run your hands through your hair. “god, i can’t do this right now.” you say, mostly to yourself – a reminder, almost, that you cannot let yourself fall for him again.

“i’m sorry, i just…” his voice trails off, as if he is struggling to find the right words to say.

“you can’t just show up like this, taehyun. it’s not fair.” you sigh again. “it’s not fair to either of us.”

as each second of this conversation passes, he sees the stress lines deepen on your face. he slumps his shoulders. “i know, and i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have come here unannounced, especially with everything that happened between us.” he cannot meet your piercing gaze. “but the rain just reminded me of that night after my parents, and i couldn’t get you out of my head. i just had to see you.”

when you got to the hotel that night, he went straight to the front desk and asked the receptionist for a cot to be delivered to your room. in the room, he went straight to the bathroom, not saying a word to you.

you couldn’t figure him out – was he mad at you? did he not want to talk to you because he thought you didn’t want to talk to him? regardless, you slip out of your wet clothes and sit on the desk chair waiting for him to get out of the bathroom. when he does, you shower, trying so hard to scrub off the entire evening from your body.

stepping out of the shower, you took a look at yourself in a wiped out section of the obscured mirror. your face was exhausted and your eyes were red and puffy. you slipped into your pajamas and returned to the bedroom to find all the lights and taehyun fast asleep on the cot.

“i fucked up; i know i did,” he looks at you now, trying to find some glimmer of hope that you could forgive him. “but i just needed to see you – talk to you. i’ve been thinking a lot about us and about what went wrong.”

you swallowed hard, the memories of your break up still fresh in your mind. you know it doesn’t matter. you know that you can’t change what happened. you even know that getting an actual answer would ruin all the work you had done to get over him. but against everything in you, you ask him, “why didn’t you show up?”

“what?”

“at the restaurant, why didn’t you come?” you feel a pang in your chest, the familiar ache of unresolved feelings bubbling up to the surface. “taehyun, you just let me wait there. you didn’t call me or text me, not even the next morning.”

“i don’t know. i’m sorry.”

you’re not sure why you asked or what you even wanted from him. you just wanted the pain to end and part of you hoped that he could end it. but you had come to learn not to expect much from taehyun. “you can’t keep saying that every time you hurt me.”

“i know, but i mean it.” he inches closer to you, hoping that by seeing him and the regret that marks his face, you would let him in again.

and it almost works.

you almost forgive him but your better mind fights with all its might to keep your hand, that is itching to reach out for him, down. “i should get you a blanket.” you stand up from the bed and move over to your closet to fish for a spare blanket. you give it to him and you go your separate ways for the night – him on the couch and you in the quiet of your bedroom.

you lay in bed, trying hard to fall asleep but your mind drifts to the man in your living room, wondering if he is still awake, thinking about you. you stare at the space underneath your door. after what feels like thirty minutes, the hallway light suddenly turns off.

you get out of bed to see what caused the power outage. when you open the door, you see taehyun outside your room with his phone flashlight glaring right at you. you jump back in surprise. “what are you doing?”

“sorry,” he quickly apologizes, stepping back. “sorry, the power went out and i came to see if you had a candle or something. i didn’t want to keep using my phone because it’s about to die.”

you go to your bathroom and bring out a cheap scented candle to the living room. “this is the only thing i have.”

the two of you sit on the couch together, the worn fabric feels familiar beneath you. the candle sits on the coffee table between you, casting an uneven glow onto your faces. the wind howls outside, rattling the window panes of your small living room.

this scene, with the uncomfortable silence as you both shift in your seats, is almost laughable. you pull your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly as you stare at the flickering flame. occasionally your eyes flick to him, tentative, as if gauging the right moment to speak.

“did i wake you up?” taehyun finally fills the silence.

“no,” you begin, scratching the back of your neck. “i couldn’t sleep.”

lightning flashes, followed by a loud crash of thunder. you wince, your hands gripping around your legs tighter. he moves closer to you, his hand finding yours, intertwining his fingers with yours. you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling of his hands – the warmth and familiarity of his touch.

when you opened your eyes, you loosened your grip on his hands. “sorry, about that.”

he shrugs it off, “i forgot you were scared of thunder.”

“yeah,” you sit up straight. taehyun doesn’t move from his position next to you.

“maybe it was a good thing that i showed up after all.”

you couldn’t even try to stifle your laughter. “yeah, you’re my knight in shining armor.” you joke.

“i’m just saying, what would you have done if i wasn’t here with you and the power went out?”

“if you weren’t here i’d probably be asleep, i wouldn’t have noticed it.”

“you wouldn’t have noticed the power went out?” taehyun teases you. “you’re the lightest sleeper i know.”

you don’t know why you allowed yourself fall back into comfortable conversation with him but everything goes by in a blur and suddenly you’re laying on the couch with taehyun hovering over your body. he slowly closes the distance between your bodies. he puts his hands on either side of you, giving you no option but to stare deeply into his big brown eyes. “tell me to stop and i will,” he whispers. “hell, i’ll even leave right now. i’ll go home and never bother you again. just tell me to stop.”

his eyes scan your face and you gulp at the feeling of his eyes gravitating towards your lips. “i don’t want you to stop.” you move slowly towards him, part of you hesitant to close the gap between the two of you, because closing the gap means willingly opening yourself up for him to hurt you again.

but when you see how the candlelight twinkles in his eyes, it’s easy for the other part of you to ignore your fears. it’s this part of you that pulls him into a passionate kiss, your hands delicately cupping his face.

your hands slide underneath his shirt but he stops you. your brows furrow in confusion. “what are you doing?” you ask him.

“i just need you to know that i’m sorry.”

“i know,” you run your hands through his now slightly damp hair. “i know you are, baby.”

he brings you upwards to gently peck your lips before leaning you back against the arm of the couch again. you pull him to kiss you again and as the kiss depeens, he takes the opportunity to suck on your lower lip, using his hand to slowly graze your covered breasts. you arch your back, bringing your chest closer to his body.

“i missed you,” taehyun confesses in between the kiss. “i missed you so fucking much.”

“me too,” you mirror him pathetically. all of your sense and self restraint flew out the window. taehyun stands, lifting you effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. he leans in to kiss you again. you respond eagerly, parting your lips to make way for his. he holds you tightly as he leads you away from the dimly lit living room towards the darkness of your bedroom. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer as if afraid that he might vanish.

the two of you stumble through the hallway, bumping into walls, laughing breathlessly between kisses. taehyun pins you against the wall. your back hits the wall with a gentle thud, and you gasp, giving him a moment for his lips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. you tilt your head back, closing your eyes, a soft moan escaping your lips. he tugs at your sweatshirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him.

you arch into him, and your bodies mold together as you inch closer to your bedroom. taehyun pushes the door open with his food, stepping inside and laying you gently on the bed. you pull him down with you. “i need you.” you breathe out. you feel his hard dick through the fabric of his sweatpants. you squeeze him tightly, the way you know he likes it and you’re reassured when he gasps.

you don’t remember the last time you felt like this, like a horny teenager, sneaking a boy who should not be there into your bedroom, doing everything you can to get off. but regardless, taehyun feeds off your excitement, hoping that by you releasing your inhibitions with him, there still remains even a one percent chance that he can slide back into your life as you always let him.

you let taehyun guide his cock inside of you, anticipation and excitement fills your entire body when he pushes in. he takes all of you in, pressing his lips against yours as he slides in. you’re both moaning pitifully into each other’s mouths. you hate to admit how much you wish you could go back to when you guys were together. there’s just something about him being here in your bed with you that feels so normal, so natural, so good. for a second, you allow yourself to forget all the bad parts about your relationship – all the arguments and the fights, all the late nights waiting for him to come home, all the longing and all the pain. for a second, you only focus on how good he’s making you feel right now.

he wastes no time in picking up the speed, knowing how desperate for him you must be. your nails dig into the skin on his back, holding him closer to you. “you’re so big,” you moaned.

“i know baby,” he cooed. he’s so big inside of you. your walls haven’t felt this stretch in so long and you can’t stop yourself from clenching around him with every thrust. the way he grunts into your ear from the exertion has you clamping around him even more. “you’re so perfect to me,” he says between each thrust. “so so perfect for me.”

blood rushes up to your face and you try to hide it in the pillow by your side but taehyun turns your head. “i wanna see your face,” he says with a smirk on his face. he knows you fold every time he looks at you and of course you quickly nod your head, bringing his body closer to you with your legs.

his pace is unrelenting; you can’t last another second. you can’t stop yourself from crying out his name as a wave of ecstasy washes over you. he lets your walls spasm around his dick erratically as his hands press into your hips to hold you in place. taehyun realizes that he’s still weak for you when he sees your orgasm take over.

taehyun quickly cums too. “i love you,” he says as he does, finishing inside of you, his hips stilling as you milk him dry.

taehyun comes back down to earth first, slipping out of you, but still holding you close to his sweaty body as he lays back on the bed beside you, wrapping his arm around you. it takes a while for you to join him, but when the hallway light flickers as he whispers i love you, you quickly come back down in a panic. your body freezes up as you try to wrap your head around what just happened.

beside you, taehyun notices your change. he starts caressing your arm, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your chin, every part of your face he can reach, anything he can do to make you go back to how you were just a few moments ago. you allowed yourself to fall into his trap, do as he wanted. you snuggled closer to him and allowed yourself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of his breathing slowing down.

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fill out this form to join my taglist! author's note :: the long awaited honeymoon avenue part two!!

[thecameronchronicles]

Homecoming

TW: sex. Dirty talk. Sex without a condom. Oral sex. Penetrative sex.

SUMMARY: Home from jail, you show JJ just how much you've missed him...

Homecoming

"Princess..." Of all the times the nomenclature is on your behalf, this had been the kost meaningful. Not because it was after the first "I love you" or by some grand declaration. Specifically because he was home.

After two years in prison, JJ Maybank was home. And instead of coming to The Wreck to celebrate with Kie, or fishing with the boys, JJ came straight to you.

Your feet sprinted towards him as he braced to catch you. He buried his smile into your neck as you wrapped yourself around him arms, legs, hands, and heart. Your lips were a frenzy to all available skin until finally meeting his.

"Baby, maybe we should go inside?" He teased before carrying you across the threshold of your house. The door wasn't even closed before you tried to remove his shirt. It was easy to do with the arms already cut off and the sides mutilated until it barely covered him, exposing his skin a few shades more pale from his lack of sun.

"And here I was wanting to talk..." He taunts before being pushed onto the couch. His smirk falls once you straddle him, disposing of your own shirt and leaving your naked breasts no longer supported by your tube top.

"Talk?"

"Two very good points have just been brought to my attention..." He smirks before leading your breast into his hand and up to his mouth. Where you expected him to be hungry for the taste of you, he savors.

"J...please..."

"Sweetheart, I've had to wait a long ass time to get my hands on you, I'm taking my damn time." He kisses you tenderly, rolling your pebbled nipples between his teeth, until finally sucking on the sensitive peaks.

"Ohhhhh...." You drawl in a moan as his hands grip you hard enough to threaten to leave bruises.

"I want you to-" he begins to demand but you can tell by his tone it will be sweet. You want heated, rough, and immediate relief you've been waiting for as even his most dirty words in sultry letters do nothing but fall unsatisfactory compared to him. To make this clear, you're on your knees in front of him as his tender blue eyes widen.

"You don't have to..."

"Do you want me to?"

"I feel like I should say no and be all of morals here..."

"JJ...it's been so long..." You run your hands up his thighs onto the belt holding up his khakis against gravity. He swallows hard before adjusting his hips so you can expose him.

That thick cock you've dreamed of sliding between your legs is now the reason you're biting your bottom lip.

"Tell me, J..." You offer as the chivalry behind his eyes sheds to concentrated lust.

"Put me in your mouth, princess..." You wrap a delicate hand around his thick shaft, running your thumb across his head as he jerks.

"Fuck, I forgot how good you are at this. Maybe you should just get on top of me before I embarrass myself and come-" By the time his rant begins to meet your ears, he's against your tongue. His words melt away and is replaced in groans as his fingers grip at the fabric of the well-used couch.

"Y/N-" He warns as you commit to him as your entire body takes part in the oral sex. Your cheeks hollow and your hands twist around him, both needed for his size, as your chest heaves as you take him.

Despite the way your knees begin to ache along with your jaw, neither falter as you take him deeper and deeper. Tears fall and spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth as you breathe through your nose and endure him.

"Jesus Christ!" He gasps, his ringed fingers tangling in your hair as he works to slow you as his hips fight him to thrust.

"I'm not coming in your mouth, sweetheart. I've been dreaming of your sweet pussy too many nights-"

"Then stop me..." You speak once giving yourself mercy for breath. He takes you up under your arms before you can convince him to let you finish, you are straddling him.

It lasts only a second before you're taken over the arm of the couch. He pulls your shorts down and swears, his fingers snapping the fabric of your panties.

"Shiiiiiit...." He moans before breathing them in.

"JJ!"

"You're so sweet baby...I've fucking missed this." He leaves a playful bite agaisnt your round ass, making you moan to the primal necessity that was your boyfriend.

He slaps the place he marked before you hear him dispose of his pants until they hit the floor. He levels behind you.

"Slow or fast princess?" He asks while gently pulling your hair back over one shoulder and to the other so he can kiss the newly exposed skin.

"Fuck me JJ."

"Then hold on baby, I'm taking what I've been missing." He spits on his cock and spreads your ass to moan at his destination.

"You're so wet...I can imagine how badly you've needed me and I wasn't here....but you were good and sent me all those panties didn't you? You know just what I need princess, so beg for it."

"Please JJ...please fuck me..." You grip the arm of the couch as he pulls your hips closer to him. His warm cock up between your thighs.

"I hope you got a lot of sleep, princess, because you won't after tonight." You gasp at the width of him pushing into you. No matter the preparation, foreplay, or tenderness, it still takes you time to adjust to him. Not only in width but the intimacy behind it. His touch is careful and his words, although dirty, are always with your comfort in mind. But the snap of his hips as he buries himself inside proves ad a reminder of his need for you.

"Oh God!" His head falls back as his toned chest tenses to the feel of him bottoming out inside. He squeezes the flesh of your ass as he watches himself disappear between your thighs, just as he's dreamed since his arrest.

"JJ!"

"That's it, princess, scream my name just like that, beautiful girl. Come on, I know you can be louder than that-" He takes hold of the curve of the couch nearby your head and pounds against you. His depth and speed are precise for your pleasure as he was devoted to learn.

"That's it. That's my fucking girl...ohhh yeah..." The sound of skin-to-skin is raw and passionate, dominant orders interrupt the erotica of it until he begins groaning into your shoulder. With a pull of your hair, you're up against his chest.

"You're gonna come with me." He manages to explain through his slow thrusts. "I'm gonna count...oh fuck..." He is moaning, struggling to compose himself, let alone you. One of his hands plays with your breast as the other lowers to your clit.

"Fuck, you're clenching already, baby. Ahh, I haven't even started counting yet!" He chuckles.

"Better start then." He kisses you quiet before beginning.

"Ten-"

"Ten?"

"You're right...three..." You smirk as the brutality of his focus worsens. You'll be sore and bruised and yet you crave to feel him unleash inside.

"Two...."

"One!"You both cry out together.

His body trembles as he coats between your thighs, twitching within as he spurts until you're full. As you bask in the fulfillment, he withdraws and immediately you ridicule him.

"Stay inside..." You moan.

"I'm taking you in the shower. Then taking you to bed. Our bed. I told you, you aren't getting any sleep, I meant it." He kisses you sweetly before carrying you as he promised.

Once beneath the water, his hands are eager to be a part of you but not necessarily lustful. He's caring, using your favorite body wash to create a lather and generously applying it until you're not much more than suds and awe of him.

"Promise me you won't leave me again, JJ..."

"I promise, princess." He kisses your forehead and pulls you against him and as much as you want to believe his words, you can't help feel in the deepest roots of your intuition that he'll get in trouble again. Still, you'll love and wait for him.

Just like you've done the last three times...

MASTERLIST

[hotchner-edu]

hiiiiiii! your hotch fics are chef's kisses~ is it possible to request one where r and hotch are on a running date (totally hotch's idea & r is STRUGGLING lol)? <3

Morning Jog (Drabble) | Aaron Hotchner

The warbling of sparrows danced around in the treetops above you, the morning twilight melting away into soft blues as the air stiffened with dew. Looking forward, you could see the ocean of tree leaves swaying and jittering from the bristles of wind that whizzed through the air.

All of the beauty surrounding you in your local park was however lost on you as you felt your muscles searing in agony. With every step you took, it felt like pins and needles were being torched and inserted into your tendons.

"Aaron, wait... can we stop for a second..." You huff out, puffs of air leaving your chest as you rest your hands on your hips. The cold air stuck to your lungs and made the journey all the more agonizing.

Aaron stops a few paces in front of you, hardly having worked up a sweat. "Sure, sweetheart. Do you need some water?"

You wave off his question and tip your head back to look up at the sky. "My muscles... are disintegrating."

"That's just the lactic, honey." Aaron chuckles fondly and checks his watch. "We've done a little over a mile, do you want to keep going?"

You plop down on a nearby bench, legs completely jelly. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Aaron hums sweetly, walking over to massage your legs gently.

"I love you, but please don't ever put me through this again. I think I'm done with running dates. My ego is fragile enough as is." You grunt out, only half-serious as you feel his large fingers deftly working to soothe your muscle aches.

Your boyfriend lets out a deep chuckle and kisses your knee. "That's a shame then. I just ordered that new compression shirt after all." His words are light and brimming with temptation, twisting your resolve and wringing it out onto the concrete as you mouth quirks into a frown.

"What was that?" You croak out, resolve already faltering.

"What was what, honey?" He teases and grins at you brightly, still crouched beside you and squeezing your calves.

Furrowing your eyebrows you lean forward a bit. "Why must you insist on torturing me like this?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He says playfully and stands up again, offering his hand to you.

Grumbling, you lazily take his hand and let him lug you onto your feet.

"Do you need me to carry you to the car?" He asks and rests his hand on your lower back.

"And save me all the public embarrassment? I think I'll be okay." You say sarcastically and chuckle softly. "And don't you usually run like three miles? I can just wait on the bench while you finish up..." Your voice grows softer, feeling bad that he has to cut his routine short on your behalf.

Aaron gives a small shrug, and a lazy smile tugging at his lips. His next words are overflowing with suggestiveness as his fingers trace circles on your back. "Usually I do, but I have an idea for how I can make up for my morning cardio."

[sixosix]

HE BUILT A FIRE JUST TO KEEP ME WARM | LYNEY

notes wc 2.5k, a LOT of talking. but i hope you can enjoy:)) because im so nervous to post this

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

“So that’s your decision. Alright.”

…That’s it?

The confusion on your face must have shown. Arlecchino casts a glance and smiles in her own way, only a ghost of it.

The ease of her answer feels like walls cracking, chipping slowly one by one, then collapsing altogether. It’s such a surreal, nearly maddening feeling. The glaring reminder that it has always been your choice dawns on you. So that’s it.

“I don’t want to chain you to the throne.” How embarrassing it is to realize that you were the one chaining yourself in, locking it in place, and suffering from the weight of it this entire time.

‘Father’ accepts it; it’s about time you did, too.

“Alright,” you echo numbly, lagging from disbelief.

As it turns out, the teacup in Rosalie’s hands had been the poison ‘Father’ was offering. She wanted to show Rosalie what it looked like, but Rosalie’s answer was pretty clear when she flung it away the moment you entered the room.

‘Father’ offers the cup meant for you, and you inspect it nervously. The glass feels fragile and smooth to the touch. The fate of your future, your memories, the people you’ve met that have led you all the way here, your entire being—

All in one cup.

You already gave your answer. It took a good minute, but still, it was the quickest choice you’ve made yet. The ‘tea’ seemed tempting for a split second: an easy way out, a free restart button. You know better now, though. Arlecchino’s showing you mercy, and Rosalie’s giving you a choice.

You look up at Arlecchino, uncertainty in your nerves. “But I can’t go back here?”

Arlecchino tilts her head. “You mean to return here as a child of the House?” She chuckles shortly. “Of course not.”

Oh. Ah, well. That is to be expected.

“Why would you be? You’re not an orphan anymore, are you not?” Arlecchino’s gaze swings pointedly at Rosalie’s direction, who is talking animatedly to Freminet. Freminet blushes as Rosalie coos and frets over him like she does to you.

You find yourself smiling fondly, then promptly realize that this is what Arlecchino means. You have a new home now, with Rosalie.

“So I guess this is really my goodbye to the House?” you mutter, feeling limp suddenly.

Arlecchino gently places her clawed hand on your head. You stiffen for a tense moment but eventually relax into it, realizing that this could be the last time she would even see you as her child, even when you weren’t a long time ago.

“It’s been your goodbye when you left,” she reminds you coolly.

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

“But I’m sure the children still see you as family, and you would be our most important guest of all,” Arlecchino says, looking ahead. “Don’t underestimate their love for you, even if you’ve already forgotten them.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget my first home even if I tried,” you laugh, a little bittersweet thing.

“Then still feel welcomed here, on behalf of their feelings.”

Her voice isn’t gentle, nor does she assume to be part of the House that would want you back—she still wears that cold detachment in her words, but you know her. You know this is the closest she can give you. You want to hug her, pull her in, and bury your face in like a child, but again, you know her. Arlecchino doesn’t like things like that—so you’ll settle for sniffling and pretending like you aren’t crying.

“Thank you for everything, ‘Father’,” you whisper, voice quivering.

She doesn’t say anything in return, but her gaze is more open. It’s enough of an answer for you.

“Come,” Arlecchino calls out, her voice ringing clearly and making everyone halt to listen. “Let us meet up with Tartaglia; it’s about time he arrived.”

The warmth of her hand slips off as she walks out. You would’ve chased after it, but Rosalie comes dashing over and squishing your cheeks until your lips are puckered. Freminet spares you a secretive smile before he runs after Arlecchino and your vision is swallowed by Rosalie’s worried face.

“Ma chérie,” she coos. “You’re really sure about your decision? I promise I won’t get mad if you stay with Miss Arlecchino!”

“Maman, you’re my home now,” you say. “I’m already grateful that you still choose to keep me. I know it’ll be difficult to adjust—”

“Nonsense.” Rosalie releases your cheek, only to pinch one gently. Her face is stern, daring you to finish. “I’ve raised you as my own long enough; what’s years more? But this time, you share with me, okay? Whatever danger lies ahead of you, I want to be a part of.”

The waterworks continue. “O-Okay.”

You’re positively drained, tired, and fatigued when the long hand strikes 10 in the evening. You yawn, then lay flat on the grass, the blades of green tickling, but that’s the least of your worries. Paimon flutters around unsurely before eventually settling on Aether’s side. Aether smiles stiffly, all tense and awkward, as he pats your arm in comfort but doesn’t even touch you.

You eye his gloved hand. “Do you think I’m going to bite you or something?”

“I— I don’t know!” Aether says, sounding genuinely distressed.

“I already apologized.”

Aether grimaces. “That’s the thing. I don’t feel like I deserve it. If anything, I should be begging for forgiveness for even blackmailing you.”

You shrug. “You can’t blackmail me anymore. Maman already knows.”

“Still…”

“Aether,” you give him a helpless smile that has him blinking dumbly in awe. “I’m the one who gained everything here. I couldn’t even give you anything even when I was supposed to help you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Aether murmurs in embarrassment. “You led me to The Knave. We have a meeting tomorrow about my sister—fingers crossed she knows something.”

“I hope the best for you,” you say lightheartedly.

Aether smiles weakly, a little unsettled by this sudden act of kindness. “So what’s your plan from now on?”

“In the eyes of the public, The Knave transferred me out of her care and assigned me to Master Childe. In reality, I don’t have to leave anything behind by staying with the Fatui. Master Childe will be training me personally, and I can be of aid to the House whenever they need it—I just wouldn’t be one of the orphans anymore.”

Aether hums thoughtfully. “So you’re going to leave Fontaine?”

“Only for a bit. I’m taking maman with me, but I would still get homesick, so I’d convince Master Childe to drop by now and then.”

Aether laughs softly. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other occasionally.”

You stare at him momentarily, wondering what would’ve happened to you if you never met him. “If anything, I should thank you, Aether. Your friendship with Master Childe made me an easy ally for him. I don’t know where I would’ve gone if it weren’t for him volunteering.”

Aether waves dismissively. “It’s nothing. I’m sure Childe’s excited to spar with you. I really did nothing.”

You hug him.

Aether is frozen for about two minutes before Paimon nudges him, and he reboots back into life by throwing his arms around you and squeezing you into a hug. It holds the same warmth as Arlecchino’s sweet gesture, so you stay like that for a little while. You gesture for Paimon to join in, and she beams and envelops your heads with her tiny arms.

At least until Aether drops his arms and suddenly looks anxious. “Okay, we should stop before Lyney hears about this again.”

Your heart jumps out of your throat at the mention of that name.

Right… You need to talk to him next.

Aether seems to know what’s going on in your head and grins. “Good luck.”

It’s the next day. You haven’t heard of Lyney nor Lynette since Rosalie’s kidnapping, and you realize belatedly that they’re giving you space. Or perhaps just straight-up avoiding you. You don’t know which is easier.

With the help of Aether, you stand face to face with the house they moved into once they were adults. It’s small and blended in with all the rest, but the cat blinking up at you slowly in a hat was surely a rarity.

“Hello, kitty,” you say.

The cat responds with a slow, measured blink.

It’s the cat from the party Lyney invited you, but that has led to a series of unfortunate, humiliating events that you’d rather forget, so to you, the cat has done nothing.

“May I come in?” you ask politely as if expecting a proper, eloquent response.

The cat meows and then starts scratching on their door. The worn marks on the bottom of the door imply that this isn't the cat's first time either. One, two, three— Then you’re faced with Lynette, who has that expression on her face that seems to say she had been expecting you, but you were a little late.

“Y/N,” she says as the cat saunters inside.

“Hey, Lynette,” you say, playing with your fingers. “Sorry about… lashing out yesterday.”

Lynette tilts her head. “I was never upset about that. I was simply worried about you—you’re family to me, too.”

Your chest aches. “Lynette…”

She steps aside, gesturing vaguely. “Come inside. Lyney is probably fixing himself up in his room; we’ll give him three minutes.”

“He has a show?”

“No. He’s meeting you,” Lynette says, then doesn’t clarify. She walks in calm strides toward the kitchen. “Want some tea?”

“Um, yes, please.”

Their home looks well-worn in a loved way, with trinkets sprinkled everywhere. There are different models of Lyney’s hats displayed on a shelf, which you find endearing. You ask Lynette about the cat, which she tells you goes by the name Rosseland, an assistant to their shows and their beloved pet, and the cause for the mountain of hats in their home.

It’s a little terrifying how easily she indulges you in conversation, just as with Arlecchino. She resembles ‘Father’ in that way. You feel like you aren’t deserving of their mercy. Lynette should be angry at you; you hurt them by being selfish. Instead, Lynette pours you tea and smiles.

“You seem uneasy,” Lynette observes, sipping.

“Well, I think you know the reason why.”

Lynette shakes her head. “There’s no reason to be. If you think I forgave easily, Lyney has forgiven you long ago.”

“That’s awful.”

Lynette smiles. “I think it’s special. We’re twins, Lyney and I, but I think if I were in his body for even a day, I wouldn’t be able to recreate what you two have. He treasures you deeply, more than you know.”

Speechless, your mouth hangs open. “That’s…”

A door bursts open, and a disheveled Lyney emerges, looking around in confusion until his gaze finally settles on you. He breathes out. You straighten up under the full intensity of his undivided attention, just like it had always been.

“Seven minutes,” Lynette says impatiently.

Lyney flushes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Lynette sighs, then turns to you. “Go on. Go to him.”

What! Why do you have to be the one to move? You want to voice your complaints, but Lyney is already moving aside to give you space through his doorway.

You cast a fearful look at Lynette, but she avoids your gaze as if expecting it. Betrayed, you shuffle through the living room and brush past Lyney, into his room. It’s messier than the rest of their house, with makeup, clothes, and props. But you find it endearing—it’s Lyney’s room and reflects him.

“Sorry,” Lyney says. Before you could interrupt, he clarifies: “I couldn’t clean this all up properly before you came over.”

But you had time to fix yourself up? You want to ask in amusement, but you settle for shaking your head instead. You’ve visited to apologize, not bully him more.

“I’m sorry, too,” you say. “For the way I treated you yesterday—no, the entire time we were together, I mean.”

Lynney coughs, turning redder. “I know you are. And you know that I forgive you.”

Just like Lynette had said. “You shouldn’t.”

“It’s my feelings, you know.”

At the mention of feelings, you suddenly recall a few words he said in the heat of the moment and suddenly find yourself flustered, squirming on the bed. As if hearing what you’re thinking, Lyney flinches and stumbles back, his face layers and layers of red.

“I still mean it, though,” Lyney stammers out.

“Mean what?”

“My… confession,” he trails off lamely, blushing like a maiden.

You blink in surprise. “I thought you were just saying that to make me stay?”

At the moment in the flower shop, you had a feeling you knew what he was going to say as if you were reading it from a book, and the sequence would go as follows: Your heart was not the first for Lyney to steal. But there was Rosalie, there was ‘Father’, there was the throne, and believing that Lyney was just using whatever he could to get what he wanted again seemed better.

“What?” Lyney’s face falls, horrified. “No, no, of course not! You asked me why I would go to… lengths for you, and I answered honestly.”

“Oh.”

Lyney frowns. “Y/N, I knew I couldn’t make you stay, but I still wanted to say it.”

You find yourself struggling to keep contact with his eyes all of a sudden. “So you meant it? You actually really like me?”

“Yes,” Lyney says, so painfully sure of himself that your face bursts into flames.

You can’t handle the sight of his eagerness laid bare just for you—vulnerable, open, and unapologetically honest. 

“I’m not easy to love, you know.”

“A little bit late for the warning.” Lyney smiles sadly. “I love you anyway.”

“Even when I’m like this?”

Lyney tilts his head. “This is just one of the many reasons I’m helplessly devoted to you. There’s really no use in trying to push me away, you know. We’ll find each other again eventually— Are you crying?”

Lyney stutters and frets over you like Rosalie does when you’ve iced yourself to her plants. It’s a little funny, so you give him a pathetic, wet laugh.

“W-Was it something I said? Was it too soon? I’m sorry. Pretend you didn’t hear anything. Fuck, I’m so bad at this.” Lyney groans, burying his face in his hands and continuing his self-criticism.

“Shut up for a bit, Lyney.”

He shuts up right away.

You draw closer to him, wiping your tears away. His breathing halts and his eyes have been swallowed up, pupils dilated. You pause until you can feel his breath on your face, looking up at him for permission. Lyney nods but seems confused, so you just show him.

‘Father’, Aether, and Rosalie have their own kind of warmth, but kissing Lyney is entirely different. It feels as if he’s burning you from within, from your cheeks down to your toes, in a pleasant shiver.

notes last chapter next:( I AM KIND OF SAD ACTUALLY

taglist moved to comments because Tumblris strange

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Duff 16

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far. ♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

Andy wipes a fleck of lettuce from his tie as you walk along. He’s pretty calm despite being assaulted. You’re still rattled, a jittery pulse flowing through you. You hug yourself as you head up toward the office building.

“You okay?” He asks, yet again.

“Coming down,” you assure him with an exhale, “I’m so sorry about that–”

“I told you, you don’t need to apologise for that guy,” he insists, “he’s nuts.”

“Uh, yeah,” you sniff as you slow, glancing further up the street towards the bus stop.

“I’m just happy I was there,” Andy says, “seems like he was on a mission. I hate to think what would have happened if you were alone.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum and shudder at the thought.

You can’t help but feel guilty. If you’d just answered Curtis, you’re sure he wouldn’t have got so worked up. You could’ve deflected him, at least lied and bought some time. You wouldn’t blame Andy if he holds this against you. You’re his employee and he was half-throttled on your behalf.

“Hey, how about I give you a ride,” he offers, “I don’t like the idea of you going off alone right now. He could still be hanging around.”

“Oh, I don’t know, that’s too–”

“It’s the least I can do. Really, I don’t mind,” he stops just in front of the locked up office, “come on. The drive will give you some time to calm down.”

You mull the prospect. You can take the fifteen minute ride or wait as long just to get on the bus, then sit in a compartment of strangers as you look over your shoulder every two seconds. You owe him, big time.

“Alright, thanks, Andy,” you accept, “I’m sorry again–”

“Please,” he waves you off as he reaches into his jacket pocket and you hear the chirp of a nearby car, “stop. No more sorries.”

He points you toward his car and you follow him. You parallel him as he gets in on the driver’s side and you daintily swing into the passenger’s seat. The curve of your thigh hits the clutch as you do. You wiggle back in the seat and buckle up. You give your address to Andy as he flips open Google Maps.

Andy clicks his belt into place and starts the engine. You clutch your bag in your lap and stare through the windshield. Your mind is already ahead of you. You just want to get home and have a hot bath, try to forget the day. You drag your fingers up your arm, you’re not sure you can get rid of the lingering sensation of Curtis’ grip or the echo of anger in your ears.

“So, uh,” Andy pulls out, “that guy was pretty worked up. Boyfriend or–”

You shake your head and scoff, “please.”

“Ah, hmm,” he grips the top of the wheel, his other hand tapping along the lower curve, “that club, you must’ve met him there, right? That’s the wild weekend you had, huh?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. I can’t even think about…” you huff and bend your arm against the door, cradling your cheek, “oh, Jesus. I’m so embarrassed.”

“We all have our strikeouts,” he says lightly, “I tried out this dating app after my divorce, not exactly a positive experience, but I learned from it.”

“Oh yeah? Well, yeah, dating is… difficult,” you mutter.

“Tell me about it. Doesn’t get easier either. So much has changed since I got married, then divorced. I went on one date where a woman brought her friends. She just wanted me to buy dinner for them all,” he shook his head, “turns out she was a lot younger than she said on her profile… bit too young for me.”

“Sounds complicated,” you sit back and keep your hand on the door, nervously feeling along the buttons and divet, “I usually don’t– It was all my friends. They always want to go out but I’m just left on the sideline. He was there and I thought he was a nice guy… I was wrong.”

“Well, I can assure you, there are still nice guys out there,” Andy idles at a stop sign. You feel his eyes on you as he stay a bit too long before clearing his throat and stepping down on the pedal, “patience, that’s what my friends tell me, at least.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to just… wait. Hope he goes away, hope I find someone better. I don’t know, being alone isn’t bad, at least you make your own decisions,” you shrug.

“There is that. I don’t miss asking the wife for every little thing, that’s for sure,” he chuckles, “anyway, I just… if this guy keeps bugging you, I don’t mind putting him in his place again.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you trace your thumb along the interior of the door, “really, it’s my problem.”

“It’s not a problem you should have to deal with, especially alone,” he glances at you then back to the road, “you’re a nice girl. I kinda get why the guy is so crazy but just the thought of him grabbing you like he did, how violent he was, it makes me so angry. You don’t deserve that,” he reaches over blindly and caresses your arm with his knuckles, “don’t think that you do.”

He retracts his hand as you shift. His touch leaves a tingle along your arm and knot in your stomach. That uncertainty bubbles in your chest. Are you reading into this? He’s your boss, he’s being nice. If anything he feels bad for you.

“Thanks,” you utter and look down as you twiddle your fingers.

You stew in the silence as his car engine whirs softly. You lift your chin again to watch out the window, recognising the neighbourhood as he pulls onto your street. You point ahead, “the red building there.”

He follows your direction and pulls in at the curb. You wrap your arms around your bag and blow out a breath of relief. You’re home.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as you unbuckle the seatbelt, “really, I owe you. How can I–”

As you turn to him, you’re suddenly smothered. His lips are on yours as he brings his hand up behind your head. His beard tickles, both soft and coats, and you squirm, letting out a pathetic murmur. You push on his chest, entirely surprised by the kiss.

You shove him away and heave, “Andy, what are you–”

“I’m sorry, did I misread–”

“Wow,” you shake your head and pick at the lock, facing away from him as you try to hide your horror, “I… you’re my boss.”

You finally push the lock back and open the door. You get a foot out, shaky and unsteady, and struggle to get out.

“I’m sorry,” Andy repeats again.

“You know what, let’s forget it,” You hook your bag in your elbow, turning back halfway but refusing to look at him, “I can if you can.”

“Yeah, of course, I–”

“Good night,” you swing the door shut and nearly trip over the curb.

You face the building, eyes full of tears. What is wrong with men?

[seoafin]

I cant go to sleep so have my cursed stsg nanami foursome thoughts so I can be in peace (it's not really a foursome)

it's gojo that originally throws out nanami's name AS A JOKE to geto and when geto is like hm. that wouldn't be a bad idea. gojo is like !?!?!? whines and complains for the next few days although he's also warming up to the idea of watching nanami fuck you. they both know nanami liked you in high school.

unfortunately this means gojo is the one who ultimately propositions nanami who stares at gojo likes he's an ant (it turns him on). nanami is like please be serious for one second of your life. then he's offended on YOUR behalf that gojo (and by extension geto) is offering you up like a slab of meat because he respects you too much for stsg to be playing with you like that 😭

gojo is like why don't you talk to her then?

geto is the one that approaches you about it. the first thing out of your mouth is whether or not they're growing bored of you (communication!) and then you say they can fuck nanami. you don't mind although you are a bit sad that you aren't good enough for them to which geto immediately reassures you that are you more than enough and everything they need. he wants to grow old with you. and it's not exactly them nanami would be fucking....

you and nanami talk. nanami tries to feel out if stsg offering you to men is a regular occurrence (it's not he's just a very special case) (nanami thinks the WORST of them help 😭) you tell him that it's okay to say no. that you aren't sure you'd be able to please him anyway and nanami who has been mostly silent asks you if YOU want it. after a more embarrassed pause you say you'd be lying if you never thought of it. nanami says he'll do it although he already knows stsg are going to be unbearable

unfortunately that doesn't mean free reign. nanami has to watch stsg fuck you first. an almost unwilling voyeur as stsg are determined to give him a show by fucking 7 ways to Sunday and manhandling you and telling him all the small ways he can make you come. all the small things that you really like. nanami is kinda horrified 😭 and you're so embarrassed you cant quite meet his eyes after even when he's undressed and on top of you.

the entire time through it he asks you if you're okay. if you want him to stop and get off of you.

stsg are sick because the only position they let nanami fuck you in is missionary so close the two of you look like actual lovers. geto hums making completely inappropriate comments to rearrange you, tells you to put your arms around nanami's neck, just the way you do to him. the way you squeeze him when you come is just so cute. while gojo is practically interrogating him on how you good you feel. he's such a good superior for letting him have a taste of you like this, isn't he? anyway nanami blocks it all out through sheer willpower and by focusing purely on your pleasure

you are the only person in the room that does not know nanami used to love you

even though you already came a handful of times from stsg you come so easily with nanami. hes so kind and gentle and never loses control. he's never seen you like this, flushed and teary eyed, biting your lip when you come again. he doesn't know why you keep apologizing. so he makes you feel so good you can't string the apologies together. he kisses you at the end, taking your lips with his when you cry out into his mouth. that's the one thing that makes stsg completely silent. they weren't expecting him to kiss you.

anyway the entire experience makes him down so bad he kinda wishes he never did it

[dozing-marshmallow]

BOBA DATE WITH CHRIS MCLEAN HEADCANONS

(I had a big impulse to write this- don’t fret, I’m still writing the requests I’ve received!)

You don’t know how Chris didn’t try boba earlier.

This beverage was literally perfect for him- control over the amount of ice, amount of sugar, toppings.

Best part is, if he didn’t like how it came out, he’d have himself to blame.

Even though, it’ll never get to that.

He liked many flavours, but was somehow very picky.

“I’m stuuuuck... Could you help me?” he dragged out to you, menu in hand.

“Sure.” you came next to him,“What do you feel like having?”

“I don’t knowww... What do you normally get?”

Uh...

“I get a different flavour every time, but I can guarantee that if you already like one flavour of something, boba will only enhance it!” you tolled, in your love for this drink.

“Not helpful.”

“It’s assuring you! Does theee fruit tea interest you?” your finger lands on the title.

He scans over that section,“The mango seems nice.”

“Only?”

“Is there a problem?” insulted, he raises an eyebrow.

“No, no. But make sure you look over the entire menu at least once before you decide.”

So he does and his attention lands on- “Oo, they have frappes!”

“Aw...” you whine. Was he really going to go for something he was already familiar with?,“You can get frappe anywhere.”

“True.” Thankfully, he agreed with you,“Alright...uh... I don’t wanna waste too much time deciding on a dry throat, so I’ll go for the...matcha green tea. It seems like the healthier option.”

Not what you were expecting, but who were you to judge,“Alrightt. You want ice with that?”

His voice takes a notch down from his usual confidence, submitting for your guidance,“...Would it be better with it?” making you almost feel bad for the ambiguous answer you delivered.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Really?” he squints his eyes in distaste,“Fine. Twenty five percent ice.”

“And how much for sugar?”

“Huh?” He blinks,“You can...pick how much sugar it has?”

You expected that reaction,“Different, right?”

“Then, a hundred percent! I want the full experience.” he put great emphasis into his preference.

One final thing to top it off,“What toppings d’you want?”

His cognition paused,“...Whatty?”

“Y’know the pearls at the bottom of the drink? I’ll ask tapioca. It’s the generic black one.” you fill him in, watching this new concept wrap around his cute head.

“Actually, I want the golden one.” Of course he did.

Chris didn’t want to embarrass himself trying to order something new, even if he could turn it into a snazzy moment, so you were going to do it on his behalf- and yours,“Okay!”

While you wait, Chris looks over the toppings menu again,“Popping balls sound pretty neat!”

“I’m really surprised you went for the green tea.” you admit, looking alongside him.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I thought you would’ve gone for an actual frappe based tea or something a bit more common like jasmine tea since you’ve never tried boba before.” A wire of your prior interpretations reach him, in a lighthearted manner.

A soft laugh jumps from his vocal chords as he pats your shoulder,“Gotta be full of surprises! Unpredictability is a key trait needed to keep a crowd entertained.”

“No way.” you tease, holding onto his hand until the boba was ready. Chris picks up his flexible cup where the golden balls looked so strange with the green.

“Is that supposed to be offensive coming from someone who’s clearly never seen this much green and gold before?” He rolls his eyes, holding his pointed straw above the plastic seal,“So I just...?”

“That’s right. Not too weak, not too strong-“

He stabs it in perfectly.

“Alright!”

He twirls his cup around, before moment of truth: the second he takes his first swallow of his first ever boba, his eyes lit up. No joke. There was a whole other sparkle that lit up in his dark eyes,“Oh my God...this tastes really good.”

“Really?” you smile, adoring the sight that he was enjoying something you suggested.

He nods, eyeing the light brown volume in your cup,“I never got to ask... What‘s that one you bought?” he points.

You proudly apprise him,“Brown sugar milk tea.”

“Brown sugar?” The name put him off.

You elaborate before he said something shaming,“It’s like caramel.”

“Let me try.” he takes a sip from it, sucking a pearl or three,“Hm... Look at that. It’s not just plain brown sugar.” He chuckles,“I still think mine is better though.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” you steal a taste from his straw. Your tongue is savoured by the cold vegetal milk, causing you to squeal, recalling how good it was.

You wanted more, but Chris didn’t appreciate you having any to begin with,“(Y/N)!” he grouched, tearing his cup away from you protectively,“You’re supposed to ask first!” Like he would’ve let you if you did.

“Sorry!” you giggle,“Couldn’t help myself, but you’re right, it is better!”

“Hmmm...” he still flaunts his drink in attempt to stay salty, the grudge quickly washed down by the green cream re-sweetening his mood. How did he not try this earlier? He was so going to buy more of this. Maybe even replace his lattes entirely!

[sdwolfpup]

For the festive writing prompts, number 5. Or 10 if someone already did that. 🤗

Since no one did ask, here's 5. :)

5. "Someone spiked the eggnog!"

Jaime turned and found his arms suddenly filled with a huge, warm body.

They both staggered backward until he steadied himself and then the other person, who blinked down at him with shockingly blue eyes.

Of course it's her, he thought despairingly.

"Jaime!" Brienne smiled at him, far more happy to see him than she'd ever been, her big lips pulling back to reveal big teeth, freckles scrunching together into new patterns he'd never had a chance to study, no matter how many swim meets they'd competed at together.

He let her go as soon as she was stable. "Brienne," he said in greeting. She wavered a little and then giggled. It was the most astonishing thing he'd ever heard. "Are you all right?"

She leaned forward so close to him he wondered--hoped--for a fleeting second that she was about to kiss him, then whisper-yelled, "Somebody spiked the eggnog!"

Ah. So it was the alcohol that liked him, not the woman. Jaime took a step back. "I can smell."

He'd meant it to be cutting, a way to put the distance back between them that he'd worked so hard to maintain as they neared the end of their season. But she laughed again, louder this time, a braying splash of a sound that drenched him in warmth.

"You're so funny, Jaime," she sighed dreamily. She swayed in place, like a tree in the wind. "And handsome."

Jaime closed his eyes and cursed the uncaring gods for doing this to him. When he opened the again, she was staring at him like she was admiring a painting. He knew that look because he'd done it to her enough times in the last months, as their rivalry had turned to respect and then to attraction--at least on his side. He'd seen her in those sleek swimsuits, seen the ripple of her powerful back as she'd stroked cleanly through the water, too many times to ignore.

Then a month ago she'd fought a penalty one of the judges had unfairly issued him just because of his reputation, had nearly gotten herself kicked off the team in her righteous fury, until no one could argue against her and it had been discharged.

What was he supposed to do: not fall in love with her?

But for all she'd fought for him, she'd been even more stubbornly reticent to talk to him afterward, as if she'd given too much of her goodwill away on his behalf and was now trying to soak it back up. Jaime assumed she was just embarrassed to have taken his side, even if the cause had been just. So he'd done his best to shove his feelings back in their protective wrap.

It had been working until tonight.

"Jaime, Jaime, Jaime," Brienne said still in that voice like she might actually like him. Or at least his name. "I love watching you swim. You're like a god."

"Okay," he said, gently prying the cup from her hands. His cheeks were hot with embarrassment. "I think you need more water and less eggnog."

"Noooo," she whined. "Don't take my nog."

Jaime laughed and set the cup down. "You can have more nog after you have some water and realize what you're saying to me. Come on." He tentatively put his arm around her waist to lead her to the drink table, and she melted into his embrace so swiftly they nearly tipped over again. "Woah, there," he murmured, gifting himself one small sniff of her hair. There was the faint tang of chlorine under the berry smell.

"You're so honorable, too," she went on heedlessly. "You would never have been in on that bet."

He had no idea what bet she meant but he nodded in agreement. "I don't care for gambling."

She laughed again, though it wasn't as loud or as easy. "That's why you're so beautiful, you know. Because you're kind."

"Take that back," he said and she stopped in his arms, going immovable with surprising speed.

"But you are," she insisted with the firm conviction of the drunk. "You're not nice." She nearly spit out that word and he had to agree with her. "But you're kind. You're getting me water."

God, her eyes were so blue and sparkling, like a freshly cleaned pool. As inviting too, sincere as they seemed. But he couldn't let himself believe that sincerity, no matter how much he wanted to. Not when she was this many sheets to the wind.

"I'm getting you water because we have a meet tomorrow and I don't want you to mess it up for us," he said blithely, tugging her back to the table.

Her face fell as if he'd hurt her and he tried to be glad of it, to remember what it was like to enjoy landing hits against her, but now that he thought of it he wasn't sure he'd ever really enjoyed it.

"I'm too ugly to be loved." She announced it as a fact, like the sun rising in the east, as obvious and incontrovertible as science.

This time, Jaime stopped, and she stumbled into him again. "Who told you that?" he demanded as he steadied her, his arm going tight around her waist.

Brienne shook her head. "No one had to tell me. I've always known it was true."

He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her. But both would be a bad choice when she was like this.

"Brienne, listen to me, and I hope you remember this when you're sober again: if someone can't see how remarkable you are just because you're tall or your lips are so full or your shoulders are so insanely broad, that's their problem, not yours. There are people who love you as you are right now, here in this very party." It was a risk, but the place was packed, he could have meant anyone.

"Really?" She looked so much like she wanted to believe him, but was afraid to, that it broke his heart.

"I promise you," he murmured.

"I believe you," she whispered.

They stared at each other as the party flowed around them, the laughter and music and shouting across the room.

He wanted to kiss her so badly he could already taste the eggnog on his tongue, could imagine the way those plump lips would feel pressed against his. There was a heat in her eyes that suggested she wanted it to. A heat he wouldn't stoke like this. He cleared his throat.

"Let's get you that water," he said, urging her forward. She resisted for a second before letting him lead her, her head tipping to rest against his.

"You're a good friend," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I am."

[petervintonjr]

For only the second time since beginning this series in the summer of 2020, I have had to resort to drawing a much more abstract illustration --in this instance, the long-demolished President's House in Philadelphia-- as there appears to be no visual representation of the individual that I want to talk about (which in itself already speaks volumes).

Almost paralleling these last three years of this series, there has been an embarrassing (nay, alarming) uptick in the number of proposed so-called "divisive concepts" legislation brewing in various state legislatures. The (stated) intent behind such performatively-drafted law is to "protect" public school students from the "trauma" of studying American history in such a way that they won't be made to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable about the history of their own country; that the curriculum should instead focus primarily on instilling an all-pervasive sense of pride and patriotism. I think on this creeping propaganda (against which my own home state is sadly not immune), and immediately begin to reflect on the life trajectory of Oney Marie Judge (in some instances spelled Ona), whose greatest claim to fame (if one can call it that) is having been one of President George Washington's slaves. Oney Judge is assumed to have been born sometime in 1773 at Washington's Mount Vernon estate --the daughter of an enslaved mother, Betty; and a white English father who had been hired by the Washingtons as a tailor. As was so often the norm for the time, Oney's relatively light complexion promoted her to house status instead of field hand, and by the age of fifteen had become Martha Washington's personal maid. On paper, Oney and her mother Betty were considered to be the property of the Custis estate, and would pass back to the ownership of that family upon Martha's death --specifically to Martha's granddaughter Elizabeth ("Eliza") Custis.

After his popular election in 1787, Washington travelled first to New York, and then to Philadelphia, to serve as President of the new nation while a more permanent capital city was being constructed. Washington brought Judge and seven other slaves with him from Mount Vernon, taking up residence in what would become known as The President's House at the corner of 6th and Market Streets. Significantly, as befit her elevated status (such as it was), Judge was permitted to travel about the city unescorted and pay for such things as shows, dresses and other clothing, and even making social visits on Martha's behalf. Judge intermingled with Philadelphians and became VERY aware of the city's abolitionist sentiment and its markedly large population of free Black people. Philadelphia had passed an Emancipation law in 1780 (one of the very first such laws in the new nation), which included a Gradual Abolition Clause; a policy of automatic emancipation of any slaves who remained in the city limits beyond a six month time-frame. For obvious reasons George and Martha took particular care to strategically rotate out their slaves, each time sending them back to Mount Vernon "to visit family" just shy of this deadline.

On May 21, 1796, under the guise of appearing to pack for her next not-quite-sixth-month return to Virginia, Judge fled, and escaped aboard a ship called the Nancy bound for Portsmouth, New Hampshire. An advertisement went out on May 23rd asserting that the escaped slave had "no good reason for running away." By September of that year a family friend of the Washingtons recognized Judge in Portsmouth and sent word back to Philadelphia. Under the terms of the very Fugitive Slave Act that he himself had signed into law three years earlier, Washington could have forcibly kidnapped Judge back to Virginia, but undoubtedly mindful of the public optics, he opted not to take action. While he expressed undisguised annoyance at Judge's actions and wrote at length about "loyalty" and "unfaithfulness," privately his real resentment was that he would be expected to reimburse the Custis estate for lost property. After Washington's term in office ended, he made another attempt to retrieve Judge, this time asking the help of a nephew and several New Hampshire public officials to do so. Fortunately then-Senator John Langdon got wind of this attempt and warned Judge, who then fled to the town of Greenland where she eventually settled, learned to read and write, became a devout Christian, married, and had three children --even though she legally remained a Fugitive Slave to her dying day.

Judge's story would have faded into history as just another footnote to the life of George Washington, had it not been for a lengthy interview she gave many years later in an 1847 issue of William Lloyd Garrison's The Liberator. In the article she detailed the events of 1796 from her point of view, which had never before been known, though she never gave up the name of the Nancy's captain nor crew, nor the names of anyone else --including many free Black people in both Pennsylvania and in New Hampshire-- who had aided her. This very month (March 2023) a mural to Judge's bravery is underway in Portsmouth as part of the Black Heritage Trail of New Hampshire: https://www.seacoastonline.com/story/news/local/2023/03/03/black-heritage-trail-nh-seeks-to-honor-ona-judge-staines-with-mural/69957500007/

Which brings me back to my earlier point about "divisive concepts" legislation and its stated intent --and the hard, un-ignorable truths that such laws intend to erase from the public discourse. Truths such as the fact that it is not possible to study, in any meaningful way, anything about the administration of our country's literal first President, nor his time in office, without eventually bumping up against the reality of Oney Judge and what she endured. The phrase "Black history is American history" is neither hyperbole nor a trendy slogan --it is an objective fact. And even as Women's History Month 2023 draws to a close, I can assure you that this art series will continue to throw light on that fact. For as long as it needs to.

[thatonegayship]

OTP post: 11, 25, 43 for billdip please👉👈

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

It really depends on what it's about, honestly. I don't think either of them would be shy about spitting rage after someone cuts them off on the freeway while the other sits idoly, or nearly throttling the other for eating the last slice of pie labeled "Do Not Eat;" Dipper probably wouldn't do that last one unless he was certain it was safe to consume without something unspeakably horrible happening.

They're both one to hide their emotions, but Dipper's who hide's them specifically if they're "bad" emotions, so to speak. We already know Bill has a hard time admitting when he's completely fallen for his little Pinetree, but I doubt he'd cover his moping if his world-conquering plan with friends was cancelled last-minute, or his rage from any number of things.

Most I can give you is if something bad happened to Dipper, bad enough to be bad, but NOT bad enough to be really, really bad, there'd be a hard squeeze in his chest and a few double takes. He absolutely covers his concern with a smile and some jokes, but underneath, he wishes he could make his partner feel better. Dipper notices the subtle difference in his demeanor, but he doesn't realize for a while that it's actually him feeling bad on his behalf.

Dipper tries to hide his feelings. If he does, it's because whatever's making him so upset, he feels it shouldn't upset him, and he's embarrassed to admit otherwise. It's more-likely than not internalized bullshit or just general body image stuff; maybe some jerk from his highschool years thought it was a good idea to drop by the Mystery Shack and be especially condescending. Bill also notices these changes, and he's as reassuringly annoying as ever about it.

Do they have hobbies they share?

I'd say annoying each other counts. Also, watching RuPaul's Drag Race.

Who would give their life for the other without second thought?

Again, this is kind of situational, because the default answer would generally be "both of them," and while that's entirely true, there are still acceptions to the rule. Sure, in a hypothetical scenario, if some guy's got a gun pointed at one, the other's gonna slow-mo run in front of the bullet without second thought.

That's the difficult thing about them, though. They aren't usually ones for showing their love in dramatic flares of constant self-sacrifice (even if they tend to unintentionally do just that). They're more practical. They didn't find each other thinking they'd die for one another; they mean to live.

Say Dipper dies, and some creature comes to Bill saying he'll bring his lover back to life if he turns over all of his life force and join the cosmos as some robe-wearing pencil pusher. He wouldn't do it, because the whole point of their relationship is that they're spending all of eternity with one another, and dying just means he's given up on that dream.

Bill's a lot more than just jumping in front of an obstacle to protect his lover; he does that sort of thing all the time, since he's not really one for dying. But he has too many resources at hand to just die. When you're as ancient and as powerful as he is, there are plenty of different options for him to bring Dipper back without actually having to sacrifice his own life. Call him selfish, but he'd much rather go completely feral trying to resurrect the love of his life so that they can continue on together, than shrug his shoulders and take the L. He's very stubborn.

Dipper feels a similar way about this hypothetical. Aside from him just generally not wanting Bill to die, it's kind of frustrating to imagine him taking the easy route out instead of fighting for their relationship. (Yes, he does see Bill trading his soul for Dipper's as 'not putting in the effort.') Bill can warp time, kill God, level universes, and he'll put in the work to get it done too, but here, he's just gonna roll over? That's dumb. He'd rather just stay dead and wait for the reunion. Humans die. That's normal. Letting someone with God-like powers just keel over without even trying to go even more insane is kind of a waste of resources, though.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Carrie watches Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 15-20 aka “Let’s go down the line, what’s everyone afraid of?”

back with part two of my chaotic list of personal highlights that i wrote down pretty much for myself exclusively. Full of SO many spoilers, you’ve been warned

Blast from the Passed

Murph’s godawful luck with the dice is peak comedy in this episode, first he immediately volunteers to roll for the whole table?? why would you do that?? and then Riz says a cringey line, shoots at someone right in front of him, misses, rolls a nat 20 to hide, and sits in his hiding place agonising over how embarrassing that was

Johnny Spells making a two second entry onto the playing field

“one D4 for gay spit” “Aaaagh! Love wins! It’s fear, it’s out of fear, it’s a horrifying realisation for him.”

Adaine getting caught in the jocks’ weird group huddle and Riz acting like she’s in mortal danger from it

“Where in this city is your father, boy?” “In a room, with a bunch of goblins!”

Brennan’s face when he goes for his coffee forgetting he spit a candy die into it like twenty minutes earlier

“Remember me, Daybreak? I shoot him.”

the entire chaos surrounding Riz getting stuffed into a cannon but especially Fig (or Emily?) yelling “no, take me with him, he can’t go alone!” and “Can I roll to see if he’s having a good time?” “Who, Bill Seacaster? Yeah, he’s having a blast!”

“Tracker jumps, 69!” Gorgug, with audible desperation: “I’m in the same square!”

Murph now being the default roller for the lair check and the entire table cheering for him

he rolls a nat one, gets to re-roll with Fig’s last luck point, and rolls a nat two

My Green Heaven

“Well, The Ball is a lil’ angel so...”

Ally’s complete incapability to remember the elven names and Brennan’s slowly mounting annoyance with it

Riz waking up in his father’s arms and instantly panicking that he might get dropped my heart

also the first full sentence he says to his long-lost father is “I got a bunch of tattoos mum is going to be so mad at me”

honestly in all of these emotional scenes I am Lou and Lou is me

“We’re in heaven! Is this what not having anxiety is like? This is crazy, my heart... is just beating like what I assume a normal person’s heart would!”

his dad told all his colleagues about Riz’s freshman year adventures :(

“On behalf of the Association for Divine Wrath please accept this memorial that your death at the hand of Emperor of the Red Waste was avenged by Your son, Riz Gukgak” “Don’t even talk to me until I’ve had my death avenged”!!!

“People got it sexually from having sex, dad!!” *voice cracks* *sweating profusely* “I thought heaven fixed this stuff!”

“I met your mum when I was 27 years old. You get what I’m saying?” “...I’m like fifteen, I don’t know how old you are, I just know that you’re old.”

I love how Murph is the one who has to singlehandedly shoulder the lore-heavy plot parts because he’s the best at keeping it all straight in his head, but also the one who will suddenly make the least sensible leaps in logic and then not. budge. no matter how many times Brennan gently tries to shoo him away from that path. He is so stuck on this angle that Riz’s father slept with Kalina which... just the logistics of that would be so many hoops to jump through

that said, a fifteen year-old with some complex feelings about his own sexuality fully fixating on this STD angle is probably the most accurate thing that could have happened

“It’s just not... happening yet. Not just the act is not happening, but the wanting it is not... And my friends are all super horny.” “Kiddo, if it never happens, that’s also okay. There’s a lot to life to enjoy and you already matter a lot to your friends and a lot to your family.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For the 847th time this week I am so upset mainstream media isn’t like this

“Work is an act of love” yeah cool can we pump the breaks on this rollercoaster I’m gonna need a lot of lore or a lot of Hilda Hilda-type shenanigans to recover from all that

let me use this moment to say how brilliantly paced this campaign is because Brennan launches into a lore dump immediately after this

“He’s dating mum. But he’s like... he‘s always getting trapped in gems, it’s kinda pathetic.”

Emily and Siobhan silently figuring out a plot point by gesturing across the table

“Well, I’ve got some pretty powerful friends, so...” Riz is so precious

Adaine wanting to save the wrapping paper :(

“TO WAR! Or, to market, but then TO WAR!”

“I’m so happy you have chosen to spend time with my daughter. It’s an incredible improvement over previous partners, if you were to chart it on a graph, a truly incredible spike...”

Siobhan’s face when Fig asks why everyone knows about her and Ayda!

Just. Ayda.

“How did Gilear take it?” “I don’t know, he was very adult about it, but he also is an adult so...” “I’m sorry, I came in way too hot with the little gift card.”

“Tell me all the least important stuff.” I’m *crying*

Zac is deeply underrated as a player, he pulls the most incredible conclusions or minute details out of the hat and never gets any credit for it because he plays loveable dumbasses

Ally’s plan to defeat the big bad by going viral with another seafood party

thrilling online banking content

The Forest of the Nightmare King

“Just upload it as like, ASMR: Puddle” “Like a Laurel/Yanny type thing”

ahhh fuck this is so creepy? The unicorn? nopenopenope no thank you

Fearful Symmetry

“Oh no, he’s making a face. Which one of Brennan’s faces is that?” hard same, Lou.

Zac is such a treasure: “I don’t want to take these stones! I don’t want any of this!” Also once again he’s making by far the smartest choices

“If we take these drugs and cast fear to push us into a bad trip?” Well this all sounds like a great idea

“Riz’s greatest fear is to not have a plan so I’m just gonna run into the woods. Not even gonna take the drugs, because that would be a plan.”

Adaine abandoning her support animal AND her anxiety meds is physically painful. stop I’m so attached to these kids

oh boy, the Baron scene. Yikes yikes yikes

the incredibly cooky accent is such a weird effect, it’s so dumb and so funny but laughing at it feels like a hysterical terror kind of laugh it is SO fucked up

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Brennan accidentally hits the absolute rawest deepest fear I’ve ever experienced as I’m working through my own shit and it is physically nauseating to watch this moment even though I know every word of it, “the years will go by and everyone will find someone that matters more to them than you” because. that’s it right. it’s not even that they’ll abandon you. it’s just that you’ll end up caring more about them than they care about you. you have all this love and only your friends to give it to but they all find partners who are now receiving most of theirs. and you can’t even blame them because they’re doing nothing wrong.

I do love that they’ve gone for this because this is such a particular fear. It’s not a crushing thing, it’s a creeping thing. It’s more a despair than a fear? Like it’s more an absence of hope than a presence of fear and I think that is really interesting to put as like a deeper layer of fear

Riz trying to get out of this specifically by pulling apart the logic of the mirages he’s seeing is on brand (but also this is the one moment where you can tell this probably isn’t a thing Murph or Brennan had to work through themselves, because that wouldn’t fucking help. It’s the concept that’s terrifying, the individual hypothetical partners are completely interchangeable. The correct [worse] response from Baron to this argument would have been just a shrug and a “yes, maybe your friends don’t want these people. But they want someone. Your ideal world where you’re all just together will never be enough for them.”).

“Okay, let’s go down the line, what’s everyone afraid of?” “That’s the most Brennan thing I’ve ever heard.”

Oh good Zac is going for Imposter Syndrome yeah this whole episode is just going to go great for me mentally

Adaine :( nonono this is painful

Fantastic, so I’m just gonna be deeply personally attacked by everyone’s fears except for Fabian and Kristen then. Good good

Gorgug is truly just. the best of the good beans. “Well, I think I’m gonna give it a try” what a champ

oh GOD the sexy rat is back this is a trip

“I take comfort in seeing all my friends there, making out. Not in a weird way.” “Like what amount of comfort?” “A normal amount!”

“.......Is my greatest fear sleeping on the job? I’m so lame!” and the look of complete disgust on Murph’s face

Fig stumbling onto this horrific village full of weird trapped bodies and finding one alive and immediately just going “Hi hello do you need help?” is so pure

the sheer JOY on Brennan’s face when he finally gets to get back at Emily for the Hilda Hilda from 22 Hilda Street and 22 Hilda Boulevard bullshit

Fig and Ayda :( but also “I sit down to write the song She Likes Me For Me, which doesn’t exist in this universe yet.”

"I do not know why I was so easy to discard” holy SHIT Ms Thompson

Spring Break! I Believe In You! Part 1

gotta love the title

Ally’s terrible metaphors

Kristen punches a god

the Abernant sisters :( Siobhan is incredible in these scenes

“Wizards don’t have goddamn cures. We don’t care about other people!”

“Adaine, your father is dead as he leaves the ground” GOOD. We love to see that.

Adaine offering her sister a bunk bed in her tower room :(

“I’m a D8, babe”

oh god is this all riding on a Murph attack roll they are doomed

GILEAR???

“I HAVE NO PRIDE” oh this is brilliant I am wheezing

“You have fully James Bond-ed yourself out of these bonds”

the worst two people fail the roll to not look at Gilear’s junk. poetic cinema.

“Your grandfather made this sword, Fabian! He’s... really good at swords! Slow, but good!”

“I think death is the ultimate mystery! I think it’s fine that she’s dead!”

“Gorgug, you are not related to Ayda in any way. Not your mum, not your dad. Not even a cousin, probably.”

Spring Break! I Believe In You! Part 2

“Every time Kristen and I are together something terrible happens. Team Rizten is 0 for 3.”

more riveting online banking content

Emily weaponising Brennan’s worldbuilding against him

“I feel deep down in my heart that I, too, am a low-quality child.”

the dig at that weird Legolas cgi move in Two Towers

every time Brennan calls the guys “baby” is an absolute delight

Adaine and Fabian thirsting over Riz without his newsboy cap

Murph stealing Emily’s incredibly cool move (with a double disclaimer)

“If you want to use a bonus action to disengage, you could.” “I... I need the bonus action to live.”

paramour/succubus, “Mr. The Insatiable”

hall of fame of worrying lines from Brennan: “Okay, first (!!) let me know when you drop, ‘cause you’re gonna drop.”

The PapaRizzi, when you throw a mirror at someone and shoot them (and livestream it)

“Mission accomplished, dad” Riz is so cringe I love him

“Adaine, how would you feel if I potentially killed your mum?” “I would be HONOURED”

Ally’s clutch nat 20 and Brennan’s “what the fuuuck EVERY SEASON!”

“I think you should start planning for this.” “Brennan, just cry now. Just get it out.” “I actually, I... I don’t know what to do.” “I wish we were all in one room so we could be like running around!”

“Are my bones six hundred years old for real?”

Ally’s character walking up to a god and asking if the god is okay

“I would follow you... is it too early for that? This feels like a weird first date.”

Brennan is forcing Ally to make up deities on the spot again

“I love them all, Riz the most, we already know this, Adaine has my finger in her pocket, these are all my closest friends.”

“Wait, we still need the crown for our grade!”

“If I dream it, would it be real?” Brennan, dead-eyed with a forced serene smile: “Yes, in your heart. Let’s move on.” 

Adaine’s mum being chased through the forest by the Vands

“I’m broke.” “We might be making ad revenue at this point!”

None of them get Brennan’s insinuation that Chungledown Bim followed them into the fucking forest

“Hey Aguefort, remember I ordered the most magnificient thing you could ever make? Turns out you already made it, so I take that back.” 

A final shout-out to Garthy O’Brien’s accent, and their whole deal

Oh, the reveal, the reveal! 

“My sister is sort of wanted for quite a lot of crimes in Solace...”

Jawbone and Adaine :(

Riz gives a slide show for his mother

“In return for the spell that I killed my father with, I wrote you Ayda’s comprehend subtext.”

Adaine being bad at knowing when people are flirting and Fig being bad at flirting because she’s imitating Kristen who is an aggressive desaster flirter

oh no the tattoos

[thecameronchronicles]

The Other Side

TW: Semi-public sex. Smut. Language. Cheating. 

SUMMARY: Frustrated with how yoru boyfriend Rafe treats you, you turn for consolation in a specific Pogue who has always made you feel a certain type of way…

WORD COUNT: 1950

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Can u do a smut Oneshot with JJ x reader? Reader is actually together with Rafe but then cheats on him with JJ? (U can choose the plot and everything just wanna have the cheating on Rafe with JJ) thank u love<3

The Other Side

Your eyes would always find their way to him at some point throughout the weekly dinners spent at The Island Inn Resort, dragged there by your boyfriend Rafe for a pointless attempt to save a failing relationship. It had been a forbidden analysis for what could never be as you wouldn’t wish it on JJ to be in his crosshairs all to silence some lustful curiosity of what it would be to have his hands run the lengths of your body for even a moment. 

But specifically on this night, you would be given nothing but reasons to separate from your significant other, beginning from the moment you got ready to the second you sat down to dinner. The only reprieve you found would be in that of those familiar blue irises welcoming you with a smirk as they always had. Only now, one that was noticed by Rafe. His hand to your jaw made you gasp, something you should have been used to by now, but something that made you surprised for the fact he had done so shamelessly in public. And even of all the eyes that came to you with intrigue, none would speak on your behalf. At least not directly…

“Ah, shit, man, I’m sorry-”

“Fucking pogue!” Rafe charged. “These pants cost more than your house, you asshole!”

“What can I say, slippery fingers.”

“Just go get something to clean it up, yeah?” JJ would leave for a handful of minutes, making you desperate for when you would see him again, his return acting like the fresh breath of air it always had, before you watched him clean up his mess. 

“Don’t help him.” You ignored Rafe as he would turn to those surrounding you, berating your selflessness as being an embarrassment to him, before JJ would slip something in your hand as he helped you to your feet. This moment also being seen by your boyfriend, but he would refrain from acting on it quite yet. 

Pool. Twenty minutes. -J.

Your heart soared at the brazen idea as you hadn’t spoken through anything more than a few glances and the usual greeting expected from every employee whenever they were within five feet of anyone else, but it was enough to make you consider Rafe’s wrath just for a moment of peace along with JJ. With your eyes fixated on the blonde busboy who acted indifferent to his silent invitation as he returned to his job, you made an excuse in the twenty minutes while sitting on the edge of the pool in wait. 

But twenty minutes turned into thirty. 

Then forty. 

An hour and then some and you began to believe his reputation as proving itself to you. A tease. A rebel. A joke of anything close to romance. For that, you collected your skirt, feeling stupid in having even considered the idea, before returning inside, finding Rafe on the hunt for you as you were quick to try and hide. But in the attempt, you found JJ bent over the employee’s bathroom, nursing his brow, as you didn’t take time to consider the cause before you joined him and locked the door quickly behind you. 

“Whoa, wasn’t aware they took applications from Kook princesses-” You quickly pulled your hand over his mouth. 

“If he finds either one of us in here, it’s not going to be good…”

“Yeah,” He pulled your hand from his mouth, the impression of full lips to your palm making you curious to how those same lips would feel on your own kiss. But the sight of his wounds kept you from commenting. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart…he’s already taken out collateral…and this was just for looking at ya…” He turned back to the mirror as your eyes filled with tears. 

“I’ve had worse from much better, princess…”

“If it wasn’t for me…”

“If not you and not him it would just be some other Kook asshole trying to mark his territory with a girl he didn’t deserve.” His eyes fell for a moment as if he had confessed something he didn’t mean to, as if some secret fell past his battered lips. Lips you were becoming more magnetized to by the second. 

“JJ…”

“You don’t have to say anything, okay, I mean it, I’ve had a lot worse-” You presented your palms to his cheeks to direct his focus to you, offering only a moment to him to retreat, before you committed to a kiss that he was quick to fall in to. 

“Oh my God…” You suddenly pulled back. 

“You’re not supposed to say that quite yet…” You moved towards the door as he caught your arm. 

“What happens if you go back to him? He’ll make you feel like shit the rest of the night.”

“And what happens if I stay, JJ?” He now walked you back against the door, hand on your hip as the other fell flat against the wooden support behind you. 

“I can at least give you something worth the third degree…worth wanting to come back for…Something to distract you as you fake being happy with someone who doesn't know how to treat you, let alone take care of you…” You swallowed hard. 

“This will only-” He interrupted you with a kiss, a hand to your jaw forcing you quiet as his tongue taken beyond your rejection would be a means to anchor this silence. 

“Just tell me to stop, and I will…but I can take care of exactly what you need…show you what you’re missing…What I know he isn’t worth sticking around for because if he was…” He suddenly pulled your leg to his hip, “You would at least be able to pretend to not be so miserable because you’d at least have that…” He kept your leg to him as he set his dominant touch to your sex. 

“But you tell me once to stop, and that’s it…no hard feelings, no-”

“Don’t. Stop.” You breathed desperately, your body pulling him into you despite the rival rejection building in your stomach in knowing this would only end badly. But every graze of his finger or taunt of his breath to your lips had been enough to forget anything but the sensations left behind. 

“I can be everything to you…for tonight…” You nodded, peeling away his dress shirt and exposing his muscles to you. 

“Then I want to see my everything…” You spoke with a smirk as he would pull your second leg to his waist, making it easy to take you to the vanity across from the door, where you were at rest around him. 

“How about we make it worth the busted lip?” He teased as he ghosted his kiss over your lips, as you would take his hint and deliver the most passionate of kisses never executed upon the likes of anyone, much less someone as undeserving as Rafe. 

“And the chest?” You asked, kissing down small scratches too old to have been made from today, but enough of a reason for him to offer a shrug of acquiescence as you pressed your lips down his torso, pulling you up by a guiding hold of your hair. 

“You’re making one thing ache, baby…”

“Oh?” You teased, driving a devoted curve of your hand to his cock as you scoffed at the surprise of his weight. 

“Not what you expected?”

“None of this is..” His brow raised. 

“You HAVE thought about this?”

“More than I should…I swear it’s the only reason I still come here without throwing some fit-”

‘You DO have an attitude beneath all this well behaved schtick?” He asked, fingers returning to your sex as you were bringing each other to a new plane of pleasure by the use of taunting words and fingers put to work. 

“Maybe if you show me it, I’ll tame it a bit…”

“I don’t think you could…” You moved to kiss him but he would retract. 

“I might not have a golf score card or some fancy suite on the top floor, but I know exactly what you need-”

“So you keep saying.”

“Oh, there it is…” He curled his fingers, making you gasp, “Still want to use it?” You nodded. “Yeah? Still want to show me that attitude, sweetheart?” He moved closer, your hand slowing around him as your grip now pulled up to his arms. 

“God, your fingers…” He leaned into your ear, second hand on your jaw to bring you to him, “Just wait until you see what I can do with my tongue-”

“Fuck!” He kissed you quickly, showcasing that tongue before dropping suddenly to his knees. With only a warning behind those blue irises darkened with his lustful intent, you were driven quickly to an edge as he brought your lower hips apart and his tongue quick to your desperate clit. Your fingers were swift through his hair, tugs and grips making him smirk before he nodded and moaned into you. 

“Yes…JJ. I’m close-’”m gonna-You’re making me-” He nodded. 

“Let me wear you proudly, sweetheart.” 

“Oh Fuuuck!” You whined as your body buckled over him, his hands over your thighs pulling them wider. 

“I want you inside me-Right now!” You demanded as he smirked. 

“You don’t want a second to collect yourself or anything?” He asked as you were still shaking. 

“Not another one.” You assisted him in removing his pants completely, leaving him nearly bare as your eyes took in the scene until he shifted himself up into you. 

“Something I've always wanted to know…”

“Anything…”

His grin widened to your desperation. 

“He worth all the fake smiles?”

“No…”

“He worth all the embarrassment and the suffocation?”

“No.”

“He worth never having this again?” He asked, hand now on the back of your neck as your hands were dug into his biceps as he stilled inside of you. “Or am I worth risking it for?”

“JJ-”

“If you want me, you’re gonna get all of me…” He thrust once more, making your head come back into his grip that he redirected upwards once again. 

“This isn’t a one time thing for me.” He thrusted again, this time, doing so in slow succession as you moaned almost pornagraphically beneath him. 

“I’ve already made you come, quicker and harder than he ever has and we both know it. But I could still give you so much more than a quick fuck in a bathroom….so tell me you want it and you get my cum, otherwise-” You took his face between your hands, rubbing your thumbs across his bottom lip before nodding. 

“I want it-you, JJ. I want you.”

“Yeah?” He began rooting up into you, forcing your body into vicious movements against the vanity as he clasped his hand around your mouth to the near screams silenced by his palm. 

“JJ! FUCK!”

“Yes baby, you need this, let me give it to you! Let me-”

“Give it to me.” You spoke through clenched teeth as he released you, your words prompting him forward, a release prompting a second orgasm to tear through you as you were left trembling in his arms. 

“I get off in twenty minutes. I’m expecting you to wait for me…I’m gonna show you the other side of everything you thought you knew…Showing you where you really belong…with me…”

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

[discobrainrot]

jean/judit!

Ahhhhhhh yes! The rarest of ships for me - a hetero one that I don’t mind LMFAO (j/k mostly)

1. Jean knew Judit before either of them were in the RCM.

Okay, look, one of my favourite tropes is Childhood Friends Who Lost Contact With Each Other But Are Reunited Now And Uh Oh You Grew Up To Be Hot.

I love the idea of the two of them having been childhood friends! I like the thought of Judit holding Jean’s hand, pulling him with her as they explore a storm drain or abandoned building. She was always the one to pull him out of his shell. She was the one who wanted adventure. She was the wild child, getting him to sit on her handlebars while throttling down a steep hill.

But he was the one to hold her hand during the nights, the one to talk her out of running away. He provided some stability, and she gave him joy.

Which is why it hurt her so much when she found him again. She learned how to walk the straight and narrow - how to make sure things go according to plan. That’s the cost of climbing the ladder. It’s just unavoidable, sometimes. But Jean? God, Jean…

She finds him again and he’s already fraying at the edges. The boy who needed her to speak up on his behalf is having screaming matches with his partner. He’s lashing out just to lash out. It’s awful to witness.

And it leaves Judit in a state of shock. She thinks to herself, what happened to the boy I loved? Where has he gone?

He’s still there. She knows it. And under the mask of professionalism, she’s still a wild child with a thirst for adventure. She still loves a challenge. She still loves Jean. And she will find him again.

2. Both of them are Bi.

And Jean is the first person Judit ever tells. It’s a new, terrifying revelation. Her attraction to men and women is wildly different - they touch different parts of her. It never occurred to her that her feelings toward other girls weren’t “normal.” All girls want to hold each other’s hands, right? All women look at each other’s lips and wonder what they taste like. All ladies get butterflies when popular girls compliment their hair or nails. It’s just friendship… right?

And when she tells Jean, she shakes like a leaf. They’re both in their 30s by now - she should have figured it out sooner. What if this is the final straw? What if, after everything he’s been going through with Harry, this proves to be too much? God, he already has so many problems to deal with.

But he reaches out and pulls her close, leaning her head on his shoulder. He just mutters that it’s okay, and it was hard for him to figure out, too. He’s embarrassed to say it out loud, but it doesn’t last. She’s just so relieved to have his support and overjoyed to share this connection.

They spend hours and hours talking after that. Not just about their sexualities, but about… anything! Important shit! Unimportant shit! Things that make them smile.

And when Jean sees her smile, he realizes his face hurts. Why does his face hurt? My fucking god, it’s because he’s smiling too. And for a second, he forgets to care about the ache because he can’t help but smile more.

3. Jean has a Mommy kink that he didn’t have before Judit.

Can you change my mind? No. Will I explain further? Also no. <3

[makoblue]

“—Oh no you don’t!”

It happens all so fast that she is barely able to catch them, the few remaining goons of the Don’s, making away with their belongings. They were tagged-teamed, two being the distractions while the other three swept in as silently as they could to swipe their stuff.

Tifa, having had enough of this—especially when it concerned Don Corneo and anyone associated with him—was not about to let this ruin her day.

This was supposed to be a vacation—a much needed vacation—and she was going to have none of it.

“C’mon, Cloud! They’re getting away!”

She’s already started to sprint ahead, bypassing the two that were meant to distract them but noticed that Cloud was not following behind. Their bags did not consist of much but anything gained on the Don’s behalf was not going to sit well with her. Whirling around, she sees Cloud face planted in the sand and an immediate dread washes over her, followed by anger as she charges back to him and makes quick work of the goons.

Gaia help anyone who gets in the way of one Tifa Lockhart when she is angry.

A succession of punches and kicks put them in their place as they are knocked unconscious and tossed aside. Anyone surveying the beach will inform some kind of security to detain them—maybe even agents of the WRO will get involved if need be. Corneo had, at one point, been working with Heidegger to smoke out Avalanche from the Sector 7 slums, so if this was tied to anything that would require Reeve’s notice, she’s certain action would be swift.

Tifa rushes to Cloud’s side, an elixir at the ready. She grabs the back of his shirt and tugs him up with one arm, hauling him to his feet.

She’d held onto him and the Buster Sword, dangling off a building many, many, many feet above, so this was hardly an effort.

“You okay?” She hands him the elixir when she’s assured there isn’t any lasting damage. Her heart is still hammering away in her chest like a rabbit but she feels more grounded now knowing he’s alright.

“If I chase after them now, I can probably catch up to them,” she says while looking back in the direction the other three had run off to before turning back to look at Cloud.

“Unngh…” Cloud moans through the mound of sand his face is presently buried in. All his limbs feel like they’re made of lead jelly. Boneless, heavy, impossible to lift. Does he even have bones? His brain might more closely resemble a bowl of soup. 

Urgency. He must attempt to move with urgency. 

Thumps, thuds, and winded groans fill the air as Tifa strikes their opponents with expert precision and still, Cloud cannot seem to convince his body to follow his instructions. 

Relief washes over him when he can feel the ocean breeze squeeze in the gap between his shirt and the sand until he realizes the only reason any of that is happening is because Tifa has personally grabbed him by the back of his shirt and handily lifted him off the ground with one arm and not because he has managed to get off the ground on his own power.

“I think thomebody druh my drink,” he slurs, turning an unpleasant shade of green owing to the journey from horizontal to vertical. For Planet’s sake, he knows there are still grains of sand sticking to his face and he probably looks like a complete idiot in front of Tifa. He’s too embarrassed at his own uselessness to even be impressed. Those assholes are getting away with the rest of their gear, and he can’t even properly stand or wipe the sand off his own damn face. 

Costa del Sol, epitome of leisure and relaxation his ass.

Later, when he doesn’t feel about thirty seconds away from puking up his guts, he’ll have to show his appreciation for Tifa properly. With clumsy fingers, Cloud manages to unscrew the cap and messily tip the container’s contents down his throat. 

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Cloud waves her on with a shake of his head. He’s starting to sound more human, at least. If they wait any longer, there’s no guarantee that they’ll be able to reclaim their belongings. He doesn’t doubt Tifa for a second. Not with all the thugs curled up on the steps and crawling across the cobblestone. “Need to metabolize the elixir. One minute, tops. You got this, I’ll be right behind you.”   

[planetstarclaw]

Title: HONOR ON THE FIELD Author: @awesomenell65 Pairing: Michael/Nikita Rating: PG-13 Length: 39,000 words Content Notes: Historical AU Author Links: AUTHOR AT THE SPLIT PERSONALITY | AUTHOR AT AO3 Summary: Nikita is the illegitimate daughter of a minor English baron. While her father hosted members of the seasonal jousting tournament she catches the eye of Michel, the Duke of Roen. Despite their attraction, she is not content to be a mistress and bear her own illegitimate children, Nikita has her eye on true marriage and with it legitimacy; Historical AU

Why this must be read: One of the gifts of this story is the richness of its world building. Viewing it through a modern lens, the rules are archaic and at times cruel. To see Nikita dream of a better life and to then have circumstances threaten to take it all away makes you angry on her behalf. Roen is such a tantalizing prospect for her. No one would fault her if she went down that path. Instead, Nikita uses her head rather than her heart and that's such an admirable trait. You never get the impression that she's settling. It's all going according to plan, her plan. Despite everything against her, Nikita is as strong as ever. I love the way she is written. And what can be said about Roen, Samuelle is oh so good. An honorable man with honorable intensions. He respects and admires Nikita and given the setting of the story, that is a rare trait in a man. This story is wonderful and should be savored. The desire in the characters is palpable and yet the author shows so much time appropriate restraint. The writing depicts so much yearning that it leaps off the digital page. The world of LFN fanfiction has plenty of unfinished WIP. This is not one of them, but here we are more than fifteen years after it was written and I'm wishing that another visit to this world existed

Excerpt:

Ironically enough, his rising sympathy made it that much harder to remember his chivalrous intention to do nothing to jeopardize her reputation. Not only could he not stop watching her, at least twice during dinner he wasn't quick enough at looking away to avoid eye contact. Meeting her gaze full on, he lost himself in her eyes, discovering in them a multitude of hues, each new shade a revelation on the special beauty of blue. He saw that her countenance was full of humor and intelligence, of self-confidence, and, with a faint twinge of guilt, he also noted apprehension, curiosity, and, he was certain, an echo of the desire he knew was growing in him with every passing breath. The first time he managed to jerk his gaze away, the second, he was recalled to himself only by the solid weight of Prince Edward's boot heel grinding into his foot. 

When the duke suddenly scowled and dropped his eyes, Nikita felt oddly breathless, as though she had been pulling hard on a string, only to have it snap off unexpectedly in her hands. Still reeling from the impact of his gaze, which she had felt all the way to her belly and lower still, and the sudden hollow emptiness inside from the loss of it, she could feel her pulse pounding and worried her cheeks must be flushed. She started to raise her hands to her face to cool her skin, but realized with a stab of angry embarrassment that such a gesture would only call more attention to her stupidity in allowing herself to become aware of, and worse, respond to Rouen's interest in her. 

Damn him, she thought! What right did he have to be so obvious about his interest in her? Just because she was a bastard did not mean that she should have to put up with any more ill-mannered, dishonorable treatment in her own father's house than she already received, even from the current jousting champion himself. He was supposed to be a knight after all, schooled in courtly chivalric behavior and dedicated to the ideal of preserving the honor and purity of all women not that she wasn't fully aware that this last was honored, pretty much, only in the breach still, as a Duke and a champion, he should do better. He should not, had no right to, make her an object of further contempt by his open admiration. 

Link: HONOR ON THE FIELD BY NELL (PARTS 1-13) BY NELL, HONOR ON THE FIELD BY NELL (PARTS 14-25)