#i gladly accept fan service but i don’t expect any

[nickysescapism]

gonna make myself a lot of enemies for saying this but friendly reminder that headcanons and fanons are just that.

also tsc is not a fanfiction. demanding/hoping (non canon) ships will happen will only disappoint us once the book is out. it's been 10 years of us creating our own versions of the characters and their lifes after aftg, so it's understandable that it's difficult to switch back to/remember strictly actual canon stuff. I fell in love with what fandom did to the characters and even created a few headcanons myself. but this is nora's book, it's her story. she will do with it what she wants - as she should. and while we don’t have to like the final product (just ignore it if we don’t agree with it) we should not harrass or bully her into making this book into a pleasing-the-fans fanfiction.

[broadstbroskis]

the wedding date | morgan rielly

a/n: well first things first, i’m gonna give a shoutout to myself, because i started this fucking thing back in august and it’s finally completed (that’s right, it took me 7 months to write just under 5k, shhh, it finally came together). 

anyway, since i started this back in august, you can tell i’ve had this idea for a while. it’s morphed and changed a bit but the basic premise has stayed the same- you go home with morgan for a wedding and everyone thinks that you’re the girl he’s been dating for the last few years- so i hope you all enjoy! (also i’m sorry i suck at titles but like i’m not)

a special shoutout to these lovely people who have listened to me whine about this at any point over the last SEVEN MONTHS and some fellow mo lovers because you’re all amazing and i love you, @denis-scorianov, @brockadoodles, @danglesnipecelly, @laurenairay, @hockeyboysiguess

-----

When Morgan approaches you, with what you’ll later learn is only his first attempt to ask you something, you don’t even give him the chance, really. “Hey, what are you doing this summer?”

“Not you.” You quip back, grinning cheekily, ignoring the barks of laughter from Matthews and Marner beside him.

“Haha.” Morgan deadpans, but it’s busy that night at the bar, Saturday night after a Leafs win, and you’ve really got to get back to work now that you’ve finished serving them, so you’re already walking away from him.

The second time it happens is a Friday night, a few weeks later, when you’re out with some friends for the first time all semester. It’s late enough that you’re feeling just on the right side of tipsy, you’re drunk enough that you know you’re going to go home with the guy you shouldn’t, and you’re okay with both of those things. 

At least, tonight you are. Tomorrow morning will be a different story.

And then, Morgan stops you at the bar. “Hey.”

“Hey!” You grin back...and then it slowly fades as he just hems and haws. “What’s up?”

“I-” He blows out a frustrated groan.

Your eyebrows raise. You’ve known Morgan for years now, since his first season with Leafs had been right about when you started working at the bar for some extra cash after realizing just how expensive school was getting and grad school would be beyond that. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words. “Alright, well if you can’t think of it now, get back to me later, okay?”

“Wait-” He says, so you give him a minute or two, but there’s still nothing.

“Ok, I love you, but this is my one night out before my dissertation is due later this spring.” You tell him, reaching out for a hug. “You have my number and you know where to find me.”

“Ok.” Morgan smiles a little. “Have fun tonight.” And then you slink away from him, back in the direction of your friends, ready to let loose one last time before the craziness sets in.

The night that Morgan finally gets his question out is a quiet one in the middle of the week. He settles himself into the corner, doing his best to be discrete with a hat covering his face. By the time you and your coworker get everyone settled with drinks and you make your way over to him, he’s caught the attention of one older man, who immediately walks back to his girlfriend when you arrive at Morgan’s section of the bar.

“Well finally.” He’s free of all teammates, a rarity but not unheard of, especially this late in the season. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some service around here?”

“Oh sorry!” You tease. “Did I interrupt something here? Did you want me to call that guy back up so you guys could finish up?”

He flattens you with a look. “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, leaning down against the bar in front of him. You know how much he loves the Toronto fanbase, but as playoffs approach, the fans are becoming more vocal and more forward with their thoughts. “You want another drink?”

He looks down at his glass, contemplates for a minute, and then nods, so you return quickly with a new beer for him and then smile as you watch him take a large gulp of it. “So what’s new?”

“Ehh loaded question.” He says cryptically. You give him a look. “But hey, you’re here on a Wednesday! You done with your...dissertation?” He trails off hesitantly, smiling at himself when you nod.

“Yup. I should know next week if I’m all clear.”

“And then?” He prompts.

“And then you can call me doctor, asshole.” You tease.

“I mean, Dr. Asshole isn’t what I would have gone with as my first choice, but if that’s what you want…”

“Morgan!” You laugh, ducking your head at the lame joke.

He’s grinning when you meet his eyes again, pleased as always that he could make someone laugh. “But seriously, that’s awesome! I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks.” You grin.

“What’s your next step then?”

“Umm I get to start researching infectious diseases for money.” You tell him excitedly, since you’d accepted a job with the University of Toronto’s medical research facilities. “But it doesn’t start until August.”

You’d expected Morgan to tease you about your excitement of infectious disease-something he and his teammates (among many other people you know) have done multiple times before-but instead, he perks up and says, “So you’d be free, on say, the weekend of July 8th?”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously. Experience has told you not to immediately say yes to this.

Morgan sighs. “Look. I need a date for a wedding back home that weekend.”

“And I’m the best you could come up with?”

“Best?” Morgan repeats. “You are funny, you’re pretty, you’re a doctor, all of which, frankly, puts you well out my league.”

“You’re not wrong.” You agree cheerfully, which puts the smile back on Morgan’s face, as you’d hoped. “But that doesn’t explain why you’d need a date to this wedding.”

The smile fades quickly and you wince. “I was supposed to go with Laura.”

You frown. “What happened to Laura?” Last you’d heard, the two of them were solid. Really solid. Headed for a wedding themselves, solid.

“She wasn’t who I thought she was.” He says flatly.

You wince. “I’m sorry, Mo.”

He shrugs. “It’s over and done with now.” You send him a reassuring smile. “So will you come?”

Well, there’s really no way you can say no now and not feel like an asshole. “Sure.”

The grin returns to his face. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

-----

Morgan rolls up to the airport in Vancouver to pick you up in a very fancy looking Jeep, a far cry from the sporty Porsche he drives in Toronto, and you call him out on it immediately. “I see how it is. You go home and you’re a fancy country boy, not a fancy city boy?”

He laughs. “Fuck off.”

“Gladly.” You tell him, grinning teasingly. “Drop me off at departures, will ya?”

His tone immediately turns serious. “Thank you. Seriously. Thanks for coming.”

Your smile remains on your face, still beaming over at him. “It was nothing, Mo.” It wasn’t, really, and you both know it. You’d quit your bar job a couple weeks early because of this, but you were happy to do this for him. He’d been down about Laura, down about being bounced from the playoffs again. This spring had been rough on him and you were more than happy to do your part to cheer up one of your closest friends.

Morgan hmms, in a way like he’s pretending to be casual about it, but he changes the subject as he switches lanes to pull onto the highway.

-----

Morgan has a whole itinerary for the next few days, prior to the wedding, but promises he’ll take you around to some of his favorite spots before you leave late next week. A quiet night tonight, dinner with his parents and brother tomorrow, and then the wedding stuff began the following day.

Much like his fancy Jeep, his fancy house in Vancouver is also nothing like the condo he owns in Toronto. You wouldn’t go so far as to say that his condo is...edgy, but it’s pretty modern? The house here in Vancouver is larger, sure, but reminds you a lot of the house you grew up in...or well, a larger and fancier version of it.

“Gonna give me a tour?” You turn to Morgan, who’s standing next to you almost awkwardly, as you look up at the beautiful house in front of you. Your bags are still in his hands, and you nudge his arm playfully, reaching for one, but he won’t let you grab it, smiling back at you as he starts to lead you in.

The inside is just as nice, and even though it’s clear that his mom and interior decorator have done a lot of work on it, there’s still a lot of Mo touches too. Each one makes you smile, the ones he points out in his tour and the ones that he doesn’t, until he finally leads you upstairs, dropping your things in one of the spare rooms. “Did I-“

“If the next words out of your mouth are say thank you, I’m walking out of this house.” You warn him.

“-ask what you want to do for dinner tonight?” Morgan finishes lamely and you laugh.

“That sushi place you always hype up?”

Morgan smiles. “Anything you want.” He says, and then, instead of the thank you that you know he wants to say, he pulls you in for a hug and squeezes tightly, before letting go. “Change and we’ll go?”

“Shower, change, and we’ll go.” You correct, dying to get the feel of airplane off you. “45 minutes.”

Morgan looks at you knowingly. “Sure, uh huh.” He says, nodding like he knows it’ll be much closer to an hour, an hour and fifteen, and you laugh, shoving at his shoulder before he makes you want to stretch it out to an hour and a half on purpose.

-----

Morgan’s parents might be the nicest people in the world, but they’re also a little...odd? Like, you’re not trying to be mean, because just like Morgan, they truly are the absolute sweetest, but, like, they just keep smiling at you with this knowing smile, like they know something that you don’t and it’s just...weird.

But they welcome you with open arms, when the two of you show up to dinner on your second night in town, hugging you just as tightly as they hug their own son, maybe even tighter than they hug the son who still lives in the same province as them. 

“We’re so excited to finally meet you!” Morgan’s mom gushes, once you get settled in their kitchen with a glass of wine, which at least explains the weirdness a little. “

“You guys too.” You admit. You’ve heard so much about them, his parents and brother, over the years of friendship with Morgan; it’s nice to finally put faces to names, to stories. “Thanks for having me tonight.” Next to you, Morgan nudges you, a grin on his face. You can practically hear him. Stop saying thank you, like you’ve been saying to him for the past day. 

“Oh stop!” She says, practically in time with his nudge. “Morgan tells us you’re a doctor now!” It’s said with pride, like you may as well be one of her own children who’s done something great.

“Yeah!” You smile, swirling the wine around a little, and then, because you don’t want there to be any confusion. “Not that kind of doctor; you should still call 911 if something happens.”

His dad laughs and his mom beams. “What kind of doctor then?” His dad asks, and you spend a while talking with his parents about epidemiology and your dissertation- his mom, it turns out, works in a similar field, and it isn’t long before the two of you are rolling your eyes about some research that just came out.

“What?” You ask Morgan, laughing, when your conversation breaks out, and she has to go check on dinner, at his dad’s request, before he burns it all entirely.

“I just forgot how excited you get about infectious diseases.”

“Can’t believe you’ve been out here this whole time knowing that your mom and I both exist and haven’t introduced us.” You announce. “The rudeness, the hearsay.”

“I don’t think that’s how that word’s used.” Morgan cackles.

“Oh, sorry, are you a doctor?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with knowing how that word is used!” He protests, laughing.

You ignore him. “If you even think of keeping her from me when they come to Toronto…”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

“Are you ready yet?” Morgan calls, and you take one last look in the mirror on the wall, smoothing the pleats in your dress. “We’re going to be late!”

“But it’s gonna be worth it!” You sing-song as you descend the stairs to meet him in the living room.

“Is it ev-” He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and swallowing visibly as he cuts off. “Wow, okay then.”

“Worth it.” You wink at him, brushing past him to grab your purse. 

Morgan’s laughing as he picks up his keys, this soft and gentle thing that you can’t help but smile at. “Yeah, I should’ve known it would be.”

“You’ll know better for tomorrow!” You tease, and breeze past him to get in the car.

The ride to his cousin’s rehearsal dinner isn’t far, spent mostly laughing as you keep switching the station from anything Morgan changes it back to. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re both giggling as you enter, flagged down almost immediately by Morgan’s mom.

“Look at you two!” She gushes.

“Mom.” Morgan says dryly. “Come on.”

She smiles at him indulgently. “Make sure you say hi to your cousin.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Morgan nods, grabbing your hand to pull you away. “Just after we hit the bar.” He mutters and you giggle.

His cousin, the bride, and her husband-to-be seem to have the same idea, and it’s just as you’re turning away, wine glasses in hand, that you nearly run into them.

“Oh!” Ashley beams excitedly, once Morgan introduces you. “Hi!”

“Congratulations!” You return the excitement. She’s so bubbly and bright; it’s easy to do, even though you don’t know her. “You guys look so great tonight; you’re going blow us all away tomorrow.”

“She’s going to blow me away tomorrow.” Dylan jokes, but you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he’s entirely serious.

“Oh stop.” Ashley knocks his arm. “And you too,” She gestures at you. “You look amazing! How’d you do your hair like that?”

“This?” She nods and you walk her through it quickly; it’s a look that’s so much more simple than it looks and she’s gasping by the time you’re done. 

“Ok, mhmm.” She nods. “I’m getting your number from Morgan later so you can go over that with me again because I’m definitely going to forget.”

Morgan flicks a piece of your hair. “It’s a hairstyle, what could you possibly forget?”

You and Ashley exchange a look. “I got you.” You reassure her as you both laugh at him.

“Men, honestly.” She shakes her head, as Morgan and Dylan protest, but then before you and Ashley can talk any more, she and Dylan are being called away, and there’s promises for you all to catch up tomorrow at the wedding.

“You can’t have her phone number unless you promise not to talk about me.” Morgan says.

“Fat chance.” You tell him. “But nice try.”

From there, you start making your way back to his parents, stopping off to chat quickly with relatives he recognizes (and once, ducking purposefully into a small crowd to avoid an aunt he doesn’t want to see). You feel like it shouldn’t be surprising how nice his family is, given how genuine Morgan is, but each person you meet welcomes you so warmly, with kind words and open arms. 

“You must talk about me a lot.” You tease, as you two start making your way to your table.

Morgan shrugs. “More than I’d realized apparently.” You cackle and he laughs; it’s familiar and easy, but then you’re easily distracted by the appetizers coming to the table and fighting Morgan for extra of your favorites-also familiar and easy.

-----

It’s another morning of Morgan waiting impatiently for you, being rewarded with his gaping jaw dropped, and teasing him the entire ride to the wedding, before he easily gets his revenge when you tear up at the ceremony.

“You don’t even know these people!” He nudges you forward toward his cousin in the reception line right after the ceremony. “And you’re going to cry like that?”

“It was a beautiful ceremony!” You defend. You’d been right yesterday; Ashley had easily blown everyone away from the moment she’d entered the room. Their vows were incredible; you didn’t understand how anyone wasn’t crying.

Morgan snickers, nudging you forward again. “God, what do you do at weddings you actually know the people at?” He pauses as you both step closer another, like the idea has just come to him. “Oh man, what are going to do at your own wedding?”

“Bawl my eyes out, obviously.” You say dryly. “Tell my future husband to bring tissues.” You move up, next in line for Ashley and Dylan. “You clearly didn’t get the message.”

“What’d you do?” Ashley pokes him; you guess whoever was in front of you was a guest she didn’t know all that well because they’ve moved along pretty quickly.

“Me? I’d never.” Morgan says innocently, ducking down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m just giving him a hard time.” You agree and she grins, shocking you when she pulls you in for a hug. 

“He probably deserves it.” She says cheerfully.

“Wow, I see family loyalty goes a long way here, huh.” Morgan deadpans.

Ashley gives him a look. “Not for much longer, I guess, though?” She nudges him.

“Oh I see how it is, you’ve been married for all of five minutes and suddenly Dylan’s family is better than ours?” Morgan teases.

Ashley blinks. “That is...not how I meant that at all.” She says, but before she can say anything else to you, the couple behind the two of you starts sighing impatiently, and you all realize how long you’ve been talking for. You quickly congratulate her and then move along to Dylan as well, before stepping out of line and moving towards the reception area.

The bridal party was quick to get the reception started after the ceremony, so when you and Morgan make your way over, there’s already a decent sized group chatting and drinking. You both grab drinks from the bar and make your way to a group of his cousins, chatting for a while and laughing along as they’re sure to include you in all of their jokes.

When it comes time to start making your way to your table for dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom quickly, running into Morgan’s grandmother when you’re there, who had the same idea as you it seems.

She lights up when she sees you fixing your hair in the mirror, stepping up to wash her hands. “It looks great.” She assures you and you smile, thanking her. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod, following her out so the two of you can make your way back to the reception. “Such a good time! Everyone’s been amazing and Ashley and Dylan are beautiful; it’s been a great weekend!”

“It’ll be great to be all be here again,” Morgan’s grandmother smiles at you and you return it politely. “Next summer.” She adds, like an afterthought, and you shrug. She’d know better than you what the upcoming engagements look like. You can barely remember the names of the people you’re seated with tonight.

“If Morgan brings me back then.” You throw her a finger gun and she laughs-loudly.

“Oh, you’re a trip!” She nudges you gently, laughing. “Such a doll. Let’s get another glass of wine together before we go back, shall we?”

“I will never say no to that.” You’re pretty sure you still have a couple minutes to spare before you need to sit down. 

His grandmother links arms with you. “My kinda gal.” She beams and her smile is contagious, just like Morgan’s is when he’s really happy, so it’s not hard to grin along with her as she tugs you along for another glass of rosé.

-----

The evening’s winding down- the wedding long over and the after party beginning to do so as well. Almost all of the older relatives have made their way home or to their hotel rooms but there’s a few sloppy cousins and friends still going hard (you’ve got some serious concerns how the one groomsman is even going to make it upstairs). Ashley and Dylan keep stealing glances at each other, like they’re wondering if it’s late enough for them to sneak away yet, but each time they look like they’re going to, someone calls for another toast.

Morgan nudges you. “Hey.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple cigars. “Outside with me?”

You think about it for a second. Usually, you love a good cigar-and you’re sure that Morgan’s managed to acquire a good one- but tonight? “Not really in the mood, but I’ll come out.”

He grins, a little crooked, and offers his hand to help you up from the couch the two of you have been sitting on. Outside, the weather is beautiful, one of those crystal clear nights with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. He lights the cigar while you continue to sip at your wine, the two of you standing in comfortable silence, until the door opens again.

“Cigars without me?” His brother grumbles. “I see how it is now.”

“Yup, just left you behind on purpose.” Morgan says shamelessly, but he’s already pulling the spare out of his pocket and handing it over.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yeah?” Morgan asks, amusedly. “Why’s that?” 

His brother gives him a look, and then, when Morgan doesn’t react, looks over at you, but you just shrug. “Just promise you won’t forget about me once you pop the question.”

You choke on your drink; Morgan looks just as shocked, the cigar halfway to his mouth. “What?” He says finally.

For the first time, his brother looks unsure. “I think...we all just thought...once you brought her home, that was the only thing holding you back?”

“Oh my god.” Morgan says breathlessly.

“I’m not-” You add helplessly. “We’re not-”

“Oh.” His brother winces. “Wait, so you’re not…” He trails off and the silence between the three of you becomes so thick it’s almost palpable. You don’t know what to do, what to say. What he even means. “You’re not together?” He says finally, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

You can relate. You shake your head slowly, notice Morgan’s doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“Um.” His brother continues. “And-and you haven’t been-together?” Another head shake. “Wow. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed.”

“A lot of people?” Morgan repeats. “Who...who all thinks this?” But you don’t need an answer to know and apparently, he doesn’t either. The silence thickens somehow; you didn’t think it was possible. 

“Um.” His brother’s already backing away, even as he speaks. “I’m gonna go now. Before I say anything else to make this worse.”

He’s gone before you can tell him you’re not sure that’s possible, leaving you and Morgan in the loudest silence you’ve ever experienced. 

It’s abundantly clear Morgan feels it too, from the way he won’t even meet your eyes, will barely even look at you, actually. And there’s so much to say here, but well, “You never brought Laura to meet your family? Never let them meet her at home?” Apparently, they really weren’t as serious as you’d thought.

Morgan laughs hollowly, finally meeting your eyes. “That probably should have been a clue, huh?”

“A little bit of a red flag.” You agree. It’d been how many years? Morgan’s tight with his family, that much you knew before you’d come out here and only became clearer as you met them. “Why...why didn’t you ever introduce them?”

Morgan sighs. “I think-I always knew something wasn’t right. And I just didn’t want to admit it?” He sighs again. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“You didn’t know.” You tell him gently. “And I wanted to come.” You remind him. “I was happy to!” You pause for a second. “I was happy to come across the country to a wedding with you and your family with barely a second thought. So maybe we both need to re-examine what happened here this weekend.”

“Maybe we don’t.” Morgan says simply.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“You were happy to fly across the country for a wedding with me and my family.” Morgan repeats, with a small smile on his face. “And then you come here and meet my entire family, and they think I’m ready to propose to you, because you're the girl they hear me talk about all the time.” Your jaw drops-is he saying...what you think he’s saying-and his smile grows into a grin. “I think this thing between us has been more than either of us have been able to admit because we’ve had other things going on- school or hockey or-”

“Other girlfriends?” You supply teasingly, when he trails off, like he’s afraid to mention her name.

He nods. “There’ve been other boyfriends, too.” He nudges you, just as teasing.

“There have.” You admit, because it’s not a lie, but none of them have ever worked out, for a variety of reasons, but you can’t help but think, that now that he’s mentioning it, Morgan might have been a part of those other reasons.

He’s back to smiling again when he continues, leaning against you slightly. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what we could be.”

You lean back against him. “You do, do you?”

“I do.” He nods.

“Little early for that, don’t you think?” It takes a second for your joke to land, but once it does, he cracks up and it brings a smile to your face. 

“We are at a wedding.” He grins, nudging you playfully. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be ours?”

-----

a bit in the future

It’s one of those beautiful sunny days where the sun is shining with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. 

Unfortunately, you’ve got a huge project due at the end of the week, so while Morgan’s been enjoying the lake all day, you’ve been sitting at a table on the dock, staring at your laptop, tapping away at your keyboard, and ignoring his increasingly annoying calls for attention.

It’s harder to ignore when he comes up next to you, wrapping his wet arms around your shoulders. “Morgan.” You try to shake him off. “Come on, gimme like ten minutes and then I’ll come in.”

“Promise?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say because if you can get this one last thing done you’ll be ahead of your goal for the day.

It works; Morgan sits down next to you quietly, scrolling through his phone for a bit, and then, jumps up and runs inside the cabin, and you jump on the opportunity of quiet to get ahead even further, losing yourself in your next bit of project.

“Hey,” Morgan says casually, and it scares you a bit, his return far quieter than he’s been all day. “What are you doing the weekend of July 8th?”

“I don’t know, that’s like a year away!.” You snap, turning to tell him to stop annoying you, only for your jaw to drop when you see him down on one knee.

“Want to get married then?” He says, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face, like he’s been waiting for this reaction, like it was everything and more.

“Oh my god! Are you serious?” He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring; you gasp. “Morgan!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Your computer long forgotten in the face of an engagement ring, you throw yourself at Morgan, who catches you easily, like he was prepared for this. He probably was. He knows you better than anyone; he’s your best friend and so much more. He barely manages to slip the ring on your finger before you’re kissing him. “I love you!”

“I love you, too.” He grins. “Are you sure you’re ready to take this jump with me?”

“Of course!” You beam, but it hits you just a minute too late. He’s already jumping in the water. “You’re the worst.” You sputter out at him, purposefully spitting lake water at his face. 

He doesn’t even look like he minds. “For better or worse.” He grins.

“That’s not what that’s referring to!” You splash him and he splashes back but before it can devolve into a full on splash attack, he’s pulling you into his arms.

“I mean it though.” He says, kissing you again. “And I’ll tell you again, next summer, at our wedding.”

Our wedding. The words sound almost unreal, too good to be true. “I’ll be the one in white.” You promise. “Or, well, maybe ivory.” You say and it’s hard to kiss Morgan then when he’s laughing so hard.

[starry-eyed-omo]

Omovember Day 1

Wetting in front of the toilet (3389 words)

Contents: female omorashi, wetting, slight aftercare, no nudity/explicitly sexual content

Fandom: Gensh/n /mpact, Kaeya x Jean

-----

hey hey y’all! i am insanely busy irl but i wanted to get some content out there, so i figured i’d do a more casual attempt at omovember! i don’t expect to complete the full challenge, but i’ll be writing what i can when i can! i may do other characters as well, but i do have a soft spot for kaeya x jean so don’t be surprised if it’s mostly them ^^; i hope you all enjoy!

(also this has not been edited at all so i’m very sorry for any mistakes)

-----

Even though the knight’s headquarters in Mondstadt were always kept in pristine condition under Jean’s watch, there were always bound to be days of mild catastrophe on the more domestic side of things. Luckily, they were rare, since despite being battle-hardened guardians of the city, the knights could be surprisingly weak-willed when it came to putting up with unfavourable conditions in the offices.

Jean took pride in not being one of those to complain, though even she had to hold back a groan when Kaeya entered her office whining about the toilets being out of service once again. It was not the first instance in recent months, and Jean was starting to think that a full replacement would be needed soon. It was expensive, but… well. She had to admit, she was not a fan of having to venture to some private corner outdoors to do her business. If any of the knights saw her, she thought she would simply die of embarrassment on the spot. 

She sent Kaeya out of her office with a letter to send to the local craftsmen, stamped with an official label of the knights and labeled “URGENT” in red ink. Hopefully the problem should be solved within the next day or two. In the meantime…

Jean let out a small sigh, shifting in her seat as she felt a twinge in her bladder. It was going to be a long day, to say the least. 

She had spent the morning on patrol with Kaeya, as he had insisted that she get some air on such a beautiful spring day. He had pampered her to the point of suspicion, treating her to a lovely breakfast with tea, as well as some extra breakfast tea for the walk back to the office and her morning paperwork. Sure, she supposed it was normal for them to spend more time together these days now that they were… intimately involved, but it still felt odd for him to be so openly affectionate with anyone. She hadn’t dared complain to his face, however, and had gladly accepted his little gifts.

Though the tea was now long gone, she had still made sure to keep a regular hydration routine throughout the day, drinking plenty of water between paperwork. It was of utmost importance that she remained at her best health, after all! Now that she was thinking about it, however, she had not gone to the bathroom once today, and all the extra tea from this morning was already making her quite a bit more full than normal. If this was an average day, she would simply take a quick trip to the restrooms right now, but as it was, she realized that she would just have to hold it until she was able to return home for the day. 

As she took another sip of her water and picked up her pen, she did her best to shake out any thoughts of doubt in her body. It would be fine, Jean told herself. She had been through worse, and the day was already halfway over. She would be home in no time at all at this rate!

-----

A few hours later, and it was most definitely not fine. 

Though she tried her hardest to ignore it, Jean could no longer deny the aching desperation growing in her bladder, making her leg bounce almost constantly now. She knew there was still water in her system that had not made its way to her bladder yet, as she had stubbornly continued to hydrate (albeit slightly less than normal), refusing to acknowledge that anything was out of the norm. 

She bent over with a soft moan, her grip on her pen tightening as a particularly strong wave of desperation ran through her and she had to fight back the urge to hold herself. Her legs tensed together as tightly as she could manage, as if she could somehow squeeze back any chance she had of leaking. While she didn’t quite feel like she was going to explode yet, a voice in the back of her head told her it wouldn’t be much longer before that was the case, considering how much liquid was still making its way through her body. 

Perhaps… if she simply didn’t have anything else to drink for the rest of the day, she would be able to make it through? Jean bit her lip a little, her leg jiggling as she considered the thought. Going outside was out of the question, especially with how busy the headquarters would be throughout the afternoon and evening, so her options were either to stop drinking and hope she could make it through the rest of the day or give up and go home early. 

Considering her usual workaholic reputation, the choice seemed obvious. However, if she could get through everything she needed to do early… Jean eyed the papers on her desk, quickly thumbing through them. It might be possible to get out early today, as her workload wasn’t as heavy as usual… Besides, it was rather irresponsible to try to go without water.

With a determined huff, she adjusted in her seat to sit on her heel (no one would notice from the other side of the desk anyways), picked up her pen, and got back to work. 

-----

It took a bit longer than Jean had estimated it would, as she had to stop more and more frequently to simply concentrate on staying dry, but as the sky had just started to tint pink with the sunset, she set aside the last item on her to-do list with a relieved smile. 

Her bladder felt like a bowling ball low in her abdomen, and if she looked down, she could swear she could see a small bulge underneath her clothes, but she was done. She could go home early and get the release her body was practically screaming for. 

Slowly, Jean rose from her seat, feeling the weight inside her shift to press even harder against her urethra. A small bit of wet heat touched her underwear, and Jean doubled over with a soft moan, her hands desperately grabbing at her crotch as she realized what was happening. The shift in position had caused her to leak the slightest amount before she had managed to get herself under control, and while she felt no wetness on her hands, hot shame still rose to her cheeks at the realization of how close she had just come to wetting herself completely in her office. She had to get home now, before the situation got any more dire. 

Jean slowly straightened herself, her muscles straining to not let a single drop leak out. She took one careful step towards the door, then another. Suddenly, said door burst open, an out of breath knight barging in. She jumped a little in surprise, and adrenaline quickly brought her back to a seat behind her desk, her body tensing up to avoid any sort of accident. 

“What is it?” she asked tersely, her hands clenching a little on her lap as she resisted the urge to squirm. 

The knight placed a note upon her desk, bending over a little as they caught their breath. 

“From Captain Kaeya,” they said after a moment. “He said it was urgent so I made sure to get it here as qui-”

“I understand,” Jean said, wincing a little as she realized that she had cut them off in her rush to get them out of her office. “Ah… Thank you for your timely delivery. You are dismissed.” 

The knight responded with a salute and left the office. The moment the door shut, Jean breathed a sigh of relief, immediately letting a hand slip down to hold her tightly as she shakily unfolded the letter with the other. 

“Urgent news,” it read in Kaeya’s distinct scrawl. If she hadn’t been so caught up in her own predicament, she may have fondly smiled the way Lisa said she always did when reading Kaeya’s reports. “Please meet me in the usual location.” 

She groaned quietly, crumpling up the paper and tossing it into the trash. His favourite courtyard, of course. With a fountain square in the middle… The usually charming water streams and fountains of Mondstadt now seemed like her worst enemy. Kaeya said it was urgent, however, and if her captain needed her, she knew she had to be there, no matter what. 

Steeling her resolve, Jean stood up, slower this time. Her bladder let out a sharp pain of agony, and she had to immediately double over and squeeze herself to stay in control, but she somehow managed to not leak this time. Perhaps it was a good sign, Barbatos willing. 

On shaky feet, she made her way to the door, doing her best to straighten out her posture. Jean felt oddly vulnerable like this. Though realistically she knew most people would be too busy to notice the bulge of her bladder or the abnormal urgency to her steps, the fact that someone could realize her weakness at any second was humiliating. She was the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, and she should have a better control over her basic bodily functions, simple as that. 

And yet, here she was, walking out of the halls of the headquarters with a bladder that was about to burst and underwear damp as a premonition of what was to come if she couldn’t wrap this up quickly. 

The moment she stepped outside, Jean was immediately thankful that the spring evening was still warm and the bite of winter had long since left the air. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. 

With small, brusque steps, she made her way over to the courtyard, giving a nod of greeting to the few knights she passed along the way. As she neared the small clearing, a furrow appeared in her brow. Kaeya was nowhere to be seen, and considering his height, unless he was somehow hiding, he should be visible by now. 

Feeling worry rise in her chest, Jean took a deep breath and stepped into the courtyard, looking around at the empty benches. Sure enough, she was the only one here. She was about to turn around to find someone to help her search for Kaeya when a flash of fluttering paper caught the corner of her eye. Next to the fountain, pinned under a small stone, was a piece of paper. 

A message from Kaeya, perhaps…? 

Biting her lip, Jean approached the fountain, her worry briefly overcoming her need as she knelt down to pick up the note. Her eyes scanned it quickly, and her gaze turned to disbelief. Written there was a simple message. 

“Feeling a little worse for wear today?” 

He didn’t even need to sign it for Jean to know it was from Kaeya. 

She crumpled up the letter and shoved it in her pocket. Suddenly everything was starting to make sense. The odd morning out, Kaeya reporting the broken toilets, and now, an urgent letter the moment she had finally finished her work… She wouldn’t be surprised if the toilets hadn’t even been broken in the first place! She could check and perhaps-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pang in her bladder as it struggled to expel its hours upon hours worth of contents. She moaned quietly and squeezed her legs together, practically crumpling in on herself as she fought against her trembling muscles. The sound of the fountain trickling right next to her was only making the situation worse, taunting her body with thoughts of complete release. 

Jean stumbled away from the courtyard and the fountain as quickly as she could, still partially bent over. She could feel that she was moments away from losing it all, and yet she was nowhere near a bathroom. 

With a deep, trembling breath, Jean waited for the worst of the urges to pass before slowly removing her hands from her crotch and standing up straighter. She could only hope that walking would be enough to distract her from the solid bulge that felt like it pressed harder with every passing second. 

Swallowing nervously, she turned her back on the headquarters and walked towards her home. Though there was a chance that she would be able to relieve herself quicker if Kaeya had lied to her about the restrooms being broken, it was not a chance she was willing to take. Jean knew that if she made it to the restrooms only to be denied relief, there was no way she would be able to make it home. In her mind, this was the best chance she had at guaranteed relief. 

Luckily, she lived in the part of town closest to the headquarters, so even though every step was torture on her swollen bladder, it only took a few minutes to reach her home. She practically cried with relief when her front door came into sight.

As Jean took the two steps up to the door, she felt her bladder contract harshly, and she grabbed herself with a soft moan. It was not quick enough, however, as she felt her pants grow damp with a large patch before she managed to cut off the flow. 

Soft gasps left her lips as she mindlessly grasped for the door handle. To her surprise, the handle twisted easily under her touch, despite it usually being locked. She froze where she stood, slowly letting the door creak open. 

Jean knew she looked ridiculous, standing there in the doorway, her entire body squirming as she fought to stay dry, but she couldn’t bring herself to care in that moment. All that she could think about was the toilet being right there. It was only a split second before she decided that if someone had broken in, she would simply have to deal with them after going to the bathroom. She knew she could not wait a moment longer, as she wasn’t positive that she could stop herself from completely letting go if she leaked again. 

She stepped in and closed the door behind her as quickly as she could without making too much sound, and immediately made a dash for the restroom. Panting quietly, she swung the door open, only to freeze when she saw a figure sitting casually on top of the closed toilet, his legs crossed and a smirk on his face. 

Of course he was here. Why wouldn’t he be?

“Kaeya,” Jean gasped softly, his name practically a moan. “Please…” 

He quirked up an eyebrow as she stepped into the room, both hands now desperately clutching at her crotch. 

“Hmm?” he hummed, glancing over her slowly. “Do you need something? I’m a little busy here, you know.” 

Jean thought that she might burst into tears right there. He was so clearly teasing her, as he wasn’t even using the restroom, but she couldn’t bring herself to say how desperate she was, how she couldn’t hold it a second more. Instead, her face flushed a bright red as all that left her mouth was a quiet whimper.

She had to hold it. She couldn’t lose control now, not when she was so close to finally being able to go. And yet, all her bladder knew was that it was at its absolute limit, and there was no such thing as holding it anymore. 

A particularly sharp pain ran through her, and she shivered as her bladder contracted, her urethra slowly, painfully, forcing open. She tried to clench it shut, but her muscles were so tired from hours of holding that she simply couldn’t stop it anymore. All Jean could do was moan out Kaeya’s name in one last desperate attempt to get him to move. 

He simply leaned forward a little with a grin, and her breath caught in her throat as she felt a spurt of pee force its way out, immediately passing right through her already saturated underwear and spreading the wet patch on her pants. 

Jean clenched her legs together as hard as she could, her hands pressing hard against her crotch, and for a moment she thought that against all odds, she had managed to stay in control for a second longer. The moment was brief, however, as another, more intense urge overwhelmed her, and a powerful stream shot out for a few seconds. She felt piss drip down her fingers and she turned bright red, making one last attempt to clench her muscles and hold back the flood.

“A-Ah, Kaeya-” she gasped out, eyes meeting his as another leak forced past her grip. Despite the silent plea in her gaze, she knew in that moment that he was not going to budge even if she got on her knees and begged. He wanted this, and she was useless under his will. 

A quiet moan left her lips as her bladder gave one more angry protest, and though she tried to hold it back, she felt the heat flood her fingertips from another stream. As it dribbled down her shaking fingers, it only grew stronger, and she could feel her muscles completely giving out, giving in to the sheer relief of finally being able to let go. Moaning in pleasure, she fell to her knees, her entire body shaking as she peed full-force onto the floor of her bathroom.

She was acutely aware of Kaeya’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care in that moment, her entire body focused on the sheer pleasure that was filling every inch of her. She was disgusting, humiliated, soaked, but she was so blissfully empty. 

It felt like forever and a few seconds before her stream finally slowed to a stop. Jean took a shaky breath and slowly removed her hands from her crotch, staring down in shame at her now ruined pants. She couldn’t bear to look up at Kaeya after this, wishing she could shrink away from his piercing gaze and disappear forever. 

Even if he had seen her vulnerable and exposed before, he had never seen her like… like this. 

Jean startled a little when she felt a surprisingly gentle touch on her head, stroking sweaty strands of hair away from her face. She bit her lip and risked a quick glance up at Kaeya, her entire face bright red with shame. Jean couldn’t read his expression in the second that she looked at him, but his touch told her what she needed to know. 

He was absolutely delighted. 

“Jerk,” she murmured weakly, no real bite to her words. “You planned this.”

He chuckled softly and placed his hand under her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his.

“Stating the obvious today, are we?” Kaeya teased gently, his gaze soft. “I wanted to have a little fun, but I know how hard it is for you to truly get into this mindset when you know exactly what to expect ahead of time.” 

Jean shivered a little from the chill of the puddle slowly cooling around her, and she immediately felt Kaeya’s hands pulling her to her feet and working to unbutton and remove her pants. She relaxed into his touch with a quiet sigh. With the tension slowly easing from her body, all she could think was how tired she was. 

“Was it too much?” he asked after a few moments of silence. “I know we’ve done similar things before, but-”

“No, it was good,” Jean said quickly, not giving him a moment to doubt himself. Even if she was exhausted, thoroughly humiliated, made a complete fool out of… she had loved every moment of it. “Can we just… get this cleaned up and enjoy ourselves tonight?”

Kaeya smiled softly and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Enjoy ourselves, you say?” 

Jean let out a quiet snort. “I did leave work early today because of this, after all. We might as well make it a night to remember, hm?” 

“Oh, trust me, I’ll already be remembering this one for a long time,” Kaeya replied teasingly, causing Jean to flush bright red. “And something tells me you won’t be forgetting it any time soon either.”

He was right, of course. Jean quietly hoped that the toilets would be “broken” again in the near future. 

[mcwriting]

Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!

In which the reader is the musical guest at Saturday Night Live the same week Tom Holland is hosting.

Ship: Reader x Tom Holland

Word Count: 5747 (what in the heck?? my longest piece ever lol)

Warnings: Mild alcohol consumption

Rating: K

Preface: I mention the NBC page program, which is like an intense internship/fellowship with the company where college grads work with at least 3 parts of the company over a year to get job exposure. A lot of famous actors and actresses were pages!

***

Walking into 30 Rockefeller Center on Wednesday afternoon was a surreal experience for sure. As a young NBC page led you through hallways and up to studio 8H, you were getting butterflies.

On one side of the hall was a sign for studio 8G, which hosted Late Night with Seth Meyers, but the page turned the other way, guiding you through doors to the Saturday Night Live studio.

There was hustle and bustle all around you as she took you to your green room, which had a sign printed with your name on it over an NYC skyline. You almost pinched yourself.

You had known for about a month that you’d be performing as the musical guest for SNL the upcoming weekend, but now that you were here for your first rehearsal, things were getting real. 

When your manager had asked if you wanted to play the show, she’d been met by your enthusiastic “YES! Are you kidding me?!” It was even better when she mentioned who the host would be:

Tom Holland.

You’d watched every season of SNL since you were probably in middle school. You could easily name off every cast member but would have to remember to keep your cool until after Saturday.

Another thing you’d need to stay cool about was Spiderman himself. You had the biggest crush on him, but who your age didn’t? He was charming and British, disregarding physical features. You were most nervous to meet him. 

The page let you put your things down and took you to Lorne Michael’s office where he and some of the production team wanted to talk to you about your set. You’d only get two songs, but one of the writers also asked if you’d want to be in a couple sketches, too.

Later that evening would be the normal pitch meeting, where writers who’d spent all Tuesday afternoon and night into the early hours of Wednesday writing finally got to show the host and cast their ideas. They’d narrow it down to eight, so you were surprised they wanted you in not one, but two sketches.

It wasn’t difficult to say yes to that. You wouldn’t be present for the pitch meeting, however, because in just a few short hours you’d be heading down to studio 6B to film a segment for Jimmy Fallon’s show. 

Your management team stayed behind at the hotel to work on details for a couple concerts you had and were planning to head up to the studio before your interview.

After the meeting, you were shown around to familiarize yourself with the studio and stage before starting your first rehearsal. For one song, it would be just you and a piano, but the other song would have a band playing while you sang and did some limited choreography. 

You sat in front of the keys of a beautiful grand piano, stretching your fingers. Someone requested you play one of your songs, so you looked around, as if asking for permission. Everyone in the room nodded for you to play, so you began the tune of your favorite song from your album.

Your voice wasn’t warm and there wasn’t a mic on you, but you got lost in the lyrics and chords like you always did. By the song’s end, you’d drawn a small crowd. They clapped and you blushed when you finished, closing the lid and standing to do a sheepish curtsy. 

Most of the small crowd dissipated and you were talking to some crew about stage setup when someone interrupted you.

“Sorry to bother, but that was incredible. Can’t wait to hear how good you’ll be this weekend,” said a male voice with a distinct London accent. You turned to find Tom Holland right in front of you. 

“Oh, well, thank you! I- I uh, didn’t expect to meet you so soon,” you stuttered, thrusting out a hand. “Y/n y/l/n.”

He gripped your hand firmly and shook it, nodding his head once, too.

“Tom Holland. You know I was excited when I heard you’d be performing the same week I host. The last film I did, we listened to your music like, all the time. You could say I’m a fan.”

Was this real? Tom Holland was a fan of you!? You chuckled.

“I could definitely say the same for you. I love your movies. ‘Been a fan for years.”

You both smiled happily and Tom was about to respond when the page who’d been showing you around the whole time came up.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Miss y/l/n, they’ve asked to get your measurements in costuming if that’s okay.”

“Oh! Yes of course!” you said to her, then turned to Tom. “Sorry. It was nice meeting you! See you around?”

“Of course! Nice meeting you also!”

As the young girl led you away again, you missed where a younger brother of Tom said to him,

“Think you’re in love yet?”

***

After an eventful visit at the Tonight Show that included you and Jimmy playing box of lies and performing one of your songs for the audience, you headed back up to 8H alone. 

You’d remembered leaving something in your dressing room and had let your team go on back to the hotel without you. You’d felt confident that you could sneak back to your hotel safely without causing a big ruckus. It was only a few blocks away.

You were digging in your bag for your phone when you bumped into someone. Each of you said a quick “oh, sorry!” before looking to see who the other was.

It was Tom again.

You hadn’t realized before, but his room was the one right next to yours. It made sense, both of you being guests and all, but you were still caught off guard. 

“Headed out?” he asked. You felt yourself blushing a little.

“Yeah, well. I just finished at Fallon’s and they don’t need me back here until tomorrow so I’m heading back to my hotel to order pizza for my whole team and then crash,” you laughed. 

“Oh yeah? That sounds about like what we’re doing,” Tom gestured back to his brother and best friend, who you shook hands with gladly. 

You talked as you wound through the halls and quickly realized you were all staying at the same place.

“That’s crazy! We were just going to get a cab if you want to just come with us. I’m already paying for it, so...” he offered. You were surprised.

“What? No, no, I couldn’t just ride on your coattails like that,” you started.

“No seriously, y/n. It’s fine! We’re literally all going to the same place and no one can bother us from a taxi cab. You don’t even have to talk to us if you don’t want to.”

You looked at the other two boys questioningly and they nodded, encouragingly nodding for you to accept the offer. 

“Okay, okay! If all of you are fine with it, I’ll come.”

They cheered and you continued in happy conversation as you headed downstairs. A doorman called a cab for you and you piled in. Harry took the front and you offered to take the middle, sandwiched between Harrison and Tom.

Never in a million years had you expected to be in such close proximity to one, much less all, of them. It was a short drive and the driver took you to a back entrance, the place celebrities usually entered.

You still weren’t quite used to the star life. Up until you’d hit it big, it was normal for you to do pretty much everything yourself and stay in relatively cheap hotels like any other person.

Now, your management team handled most things and you were staying in five star places with secret celebrity entrances and prices that would probably make your grandmother faint.

Inside, you’d also realized you were on the same floor, both of you staying in large suites used by many elites over the years. You parted ways, anticipating seeing each other in the morning for rehearsals and later that evening when you’d be doing Seth Meyers’ show together.

***

The studio was buzzing when you entered Thursday morning. Your small team headed straight for the dressing room as you were taken away to a sketch read. Both sketches the writers had asked you about had been greenlit, so you were excited to work on them

“Morning, y/n. How was the pizza?” Tom asked cheekily when you first walked in. A couple of people passing by gave strange looks but said nothing.

“Well, who doesn’t love a good New York slice, huh? I’d say it was pretty darn good. And you?”

“We ended up getting room service, but pizza’s definitely next on my list,” he joked before you were handed scripts and asked to review them. The writers and cast were trying to figure out some basic spacing as you looked over your lines and cues.

You finally got to work rehearsing the two sketches. You broke a couple times when Kate landed a punchline and when Beck accidentally tripped. 

When they decided to move on from those, you where whisked away to wardrobe and makeup to shoot "bumper” stills and videos, the photos and clips between sketches and commercial breaks. 

You were excited to see how they envisioned your style and personality and would bring it to life. The photographer collaborated with you and shot some really incredible photos, both serious and goofy.

Next you were back in music rehearsals figuring out more about the staging and running some diagnostic sound checks. Once lunchtime came around, your stomach was growling.

You just barely caught Tom as you went for lunch, he was finishing up as you built your plate. As it always seemed, you only got a few words in with each other before someone was dragging Tom off for his own photoshoot.

You got to talk to Harry and Harrison for a little bit, too, until your manager asked to have a quick meeting about your schedule. Once you were free, you were taken to costuming to try a few things on and figure out hair styles that would fit the show.

There were more music rehearsals and you read the new scripts (as they had already been rewritten twice now). You were pretty tired by the time someone asked you to head across the hall to prepare for Late Night.

You grabbed a quick bite to eat on your way out of 8H and finished is by the time you were in the doors of 8G and a page led you to your green room, once again located next to Tom’s. 

Since you were both doing SNL together, you and Tom were going to be interviewed together, but you also had the added bonus of being the musical guest again. 

You only needed to rehearse a couple times to get the sound down (it’s not like it’s live, so you could easily restart if something went wrong). Once you were finished, they brought in the studio audience and you got a chance to go back to your green room and chill for a little while. 

Seth had a couple other guests, so while you were waiting, you knocked on Tom’s door to greet him and discuss the talking points each of your management had given Seth.

As the in-house band was warming up, Seth came into the room.

“Well I didn’t expect to see both of you in here,” he joked, shaking both of you hands. Tom had been on the show before, but this was your first time meeting the host. 

After a couple minutes, Seth was informed of the time and made his leave, going out to meet his audience and begin taping. After his monologue and the first guest, you and Tom were called to the stage.

“Now for our nexts guests we have both the host and musical guest of this weekend’s Saturday Night Live, Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Come on out here!”

Tom gestured for you to go ahead of him, so you walked out, waving to the cheering crowd. You took the seat nearest to Seth’s desk. 

“Well hello, there. Good to see you two,” he greeted as you settled in. “Welcome back, Tom, and welcome for the first time, y/n.”

“Wait this is your first time here?” Tom asked incredulously. You laughed.

“Yeah! Up until a few months ago like, no one knew who I was. Not even Seth!” you poked right back. Seth jokingly agreed. 

The interview went well, both of you telling some funny stories and explaining how the week was going. Finally, you cut for a commercial.

“Alright we’ll return with y/n and Tom after this short break!”

You were right back to the interview after the commercial “break.” Towards the end of it, you all got off on the subject of alcohol.

“You are 21, right?” Tom asked you. You rolled your eyes and gave an exaggerated hair flip.

“Yes, I am of the legal age. You should know as well as anyone what it’s like to have a baby face,” you roasted, causing the audience to go “ohh!” and Tom and Seth to raise their eyebrows.

“Wow looks like we’ve got a little rivalry now. The real question is who can handle their alcohol better. I think we oughta bring you two back for my day drinking segment to settle this!”

Both of you overconfidently pointed at yourselves when Seth asked who was better with alcohol.

“Now that’s an idea I can get behind!” you exclaimed before the interview finally wrapped up and you got ready to go sing. Tom and Seth stayed at the desk while you performed, which thankfully only took one shot.

As you wrapped up the show, you gave final waves to the audience and then headed offstage. You and Tom walked through the halls together and Seth caught up with you after finishing his outro.

He thanked you both for being on the show, you took a few pictures, then talked for a while. Seth was eventually called away to look at something, so you said your goodbyes to him and continued towards the green rooms.

“You were great tonight. Your voice is phenomenal,” Tom said to you. “and honestly I can’t believe you haven’t been doing talkshows that long. You’re a natural.”

“I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I love to talk about myself,” you quipped. “But seriously, thank you. Everything leading up to now has happened so fast, it’s hard to really gauge if things are going well or not.”

“I can relate to that. It’s hard, but having my family and brothers helps keep me grounded, you know? Harrison, too. They know that they can call me out and, yeah, I might get mad at first, but I understand that they’re keeping me from getting a big head.”

“Yeah I can’t imagine how overnight it must have been for you. My family and friends definitely don’t miss the chance to poke a little fun here and there to keep my ego down, too. You know, it’s nice talking to someone who understands for once. I love them, but unfortunately they’ll never fully get what it’s like, but you do,” you smiled.

You talked a little more, then spilt off to actually go to get ready to leave the building for the night. The upcoming Friday was going to be a long one.

Once again, you let your manager and assistant and everyone leave ahead of you. Regardless of whether you would hitch a ride with Tom again, you could find your way around easily.

You waited by the door until you heard their voices nearing and the boys came into the hallway.

“Oh y/n, you’re still here, too,” Harry said.

“Yeah, I was trying to decide what to do for dinner tonight before I head back to the hotel.”

“Well we’re going to grab some pizza if you want to join us,” Harrison offered happily, causing Tom to look at him funny. 

“Y/n probably doesn’t want to be bothered by us all day every day and plus, she had pizza last night, I’m sure she doesn’t want it again. Sorry, y/n, don’t feel pressured by this div,” Tom said apologetically.

“Honestly, I could eat pizza everyday, so that’s not an issue, and I honestly love hanging out with you guys. You remind me of my friends back home. If y’all want to eat together, I seriously would not mind.”

“Really?” Tom asked incredulously, then recomposed himself. “Well, yeah, sure. We were gonna head back to the hotel to change clothes and then figure things out from there, is that okay?”

“That sounds perfect, except I’m paying the cab fare this time.”

***

In most situations, a group of guys you’d only known a couple of days asking you into their hotel room would be a major red flag, and it probably still should have been, but you threw caution to the wind and went to Tom’s suite anyways.

Harry answered the door and let you in, and inside you found Tom and Harrison on the floor of the living space drinking beers. They both raised their cans up to you as you came in.

All three of the boys were in simple sweats and t-shirts, similar to you in your leggings and sweatshirt. It wasn’t much later that Harry went to the lobby to retrieve the pizzas they’d ordered and you were all digging in, seated around the coffee table talking.

You all discussed random things, poking fun at each other like you were old friends. It was like they’d already accepted you as one of their own.

“How you think this weekend’s gonna go, y/n?” Tom asked between swigs of his ale.

“I’d say pretty good. I’m hella nervous though. SNL is like its own universe.”

“You can say that again. This is like nothing I’ve ever done before.”

“Oh, come on. You two are both going to do great Saturday. Don’t think too much about it and just have fun,” Harrison encouraged as you continued eating.

Throughout the evening, you couldn’t help but pick up on the way you and Tom kept making eye contact. It was brief, but it was different than how you and Harry or Harrison looked at each other. There was something else there.

Your stomach fluttered. Who else could say that they spent an evening drinking with their biggest celebrity crush? And then continually exchange flirty looks?

At one point Tom even tossed a wink at you after cracking a joke, causing your heartbeat to quicken momentarily. 

After getting lost in conversation with the boys, you realized the time and prepared to excuse yourself back to your own room. The coming morning was going to be an early one, after all. 

“Oh man, I better head out. We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” you commented, stretching as you stood up. The boys followed suit.

“Wow I didn’t even realize how long we’ve been sitting here,” Tom added.

“Yeah. Thanks again for letting me come over tonight. I haven’t gotten to do something like this in a while so it’s nice to just spend time with people who I don’t pay to hang around me all day, you know?”

“I understand and definitely can agree, since these divs are kind of paid to hang around me.”

You all laughed as Tom walked you to the door. 

“Well. See you bright and early...” you trailed.

“Yeah, see you then,” Tom answered, awkwardly sticking out his arms for a hug. You obliged, squeezing your arms around his neck as his held your waist.

And goodness did he give good hugs.

***

You were definitely tired walking into 8H Friday morning. The caffeinated drink in hand helped a little, but late night beers paired with waking up early didn’t quite go hand in hand.

It wasn’t really a hangover either, since you hadn’t been fully drunk, but it didn’t help the exhaustion from traveling, working the past two days, and a lack of sleep.

The first thing you had to do was rehearse your songs for Saturday as the set team worked on transporting and putting together large set pieces that had been made at the navy yard in Brooklyn.

Tom and the cast weren’t far away, figuring the live show with costuming and quick changes along with doing some pre-filmed sketches. The writers were continually making adjustments and figuring out how things would be done. 

They eventually called you over, too, to rehearse your sketches and film one of them. You had to get used to the costumes and cue cards and blocking of each. There had been some minor changes as well, so you had to be quick on your feet.

By lunchtime, all the cast took a well deserved break to sit and have a bite. The writers were having to shuffle around while they tried to eat as you and Tom sat down to talk some more.

“Hey, sorry to bug you, but do you guys mind if I take a picture or two for the SNL social media accounts?” a page asked while you were munching on sandwiches.

You and Tom looked at each other and shrugged.

“Fine with me,” you answered, Tom giving a similar reply. The two of you leaned in next to each other, holding up your sandwiches and laughing.

A few photos were snapped and you and Tom approved of them to be posted online. You thought nothing of it as you went to more rehearsals, working through the show’s order and trying to get down timing before Saturday’s dress rehearsal and show.

You couldn’t help but laugh watching the sketches, as this was your first time seeing the ones you weren’t a part of. Tom’s comedic timing and dry British humor paired well with the material he was given.

When the day came to an end, you were looking through instagram and gathering your things. You went to SNL’s page and put the post of you and Tom together onto your story, adding the text “Can’t wait for everyone to see my favorite sandwich partner host the show tomorrow!”

As before, you thought nothing of it and posted the story, heading out the door to ride back with Tom and the boys.

***

At the hotel, you and Tom had decided to not hang out for the evening since you’d be having a late, late night Saturday and wanted to get some sleep. You opened up social media as you laid in bed to wind down.

You decided to look at the picture of you and Tom from lunch again and read some comments, hoping there would be some funny ones and whatnot.

Instead, you found hundreds of comments saying “omg ship” and “my two faves together” and “this couple would be everything!!” 

You were honestly shocked to see people saying that about you, especially since you had never heard of your fans indicating that they wanted to see you two together.

Twitter was also buzzing over you and Tom’s picture, some fan pages just talking about either one of you, while others also talked about shipping you.

In your heart, you kind of enjoyed it, since you were hardcore crushing on Tom now, but you had no idea how he felt.

Did he like you back? Did he just think of you as just a friend or acquaintance? Was he secretly dating someone and you were just reading too much into it? 

It was much to think about, so instead you closed your phone and fell into a deep slumber.

***

You didn’t have to be in the studio as early as the past days since dress rehearsal wasn’t until 8pm and the show started at 11:30. You felt better rested than the day before, but butterflies were constantly erupting in your stomach.

You and Tom caught each other at the building’s entrance and went up the elevators together.

“Ready for tonight?” you asked, tapping a foot anxiously.

“Absolutely not. You?”

“Same here. Not only is it going to be watched by millions, but some of the most important people in my life are coming and I’m freaking out a little.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked softly. “And who would that be?”

“Well, my parents and some friends from home. I can sing in front of sold out stadiums but I still get nervous if I know they’re in a crowd. It’s stupid, I know.”

“No I totally get it. My parents and brothers will all be here, too, and my heart races when they watch my work. The best advice ever given to me, though was ‘turn nerves into excitement,’ and that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

You nodded and smiled up at him.

“That is pretty good. Thanks,” you replied as the elevator doors opened. 

The halls were bustling with what seemed like every employee as you headed to your green room. It wasn’t long before you were being thrown updated scripts and rehearsing again.

Finally as dusk turned to night, the dress rehearsal audience seats began filling up. You were bouncing nervously in the hall as you watched the cast begin the cold open on a monitor.

“Nervous?” a male voice asked quietly next to you. It was Tom, of course. You bobbed your head from side to side.

“Excited,” you replied cheekily. He smiled and was about to say something else when a crew member came by to lead him to his starting place for the monologue. He gave a quick wave before heading backstage, instead. 

The dress rehearsal went okay, certain jokes and lines being cut and rearranged by the end for time. Thankfully the audience received everything well, for the most part. 

Your own music and sketches felt like a rush, but you were proud. Tom’s advice had really gotten to you, because you were bubbling with excited anticipation for 11:30 broadcast to begin.

There was about an hour between dress and the actual taping, so you scarfed down a few bites of food and tried to shake out some jitters. You also sipped some caffeinated hot tea and did vocal runs to stay in tip top shape. 

Your friends and family stopped by the green room to say hi before they joined the audience, giving you hugs and encouragement for the evening ahead.

As the clock neared 11:30, you were walking down a hall already dressed for your first song when you almost bumped into Tom.

“Oh, hey! Great job at dress! You’re gonna do amazing,” you immediately said, making him beam.

“Thank you! And you too! Your voice is on fire tonight, as if it’s ever not.”

“You haven’t heard me try to sing sick, then. I sound like a diseased animal.” You shook your hands and head to dismiss yourself. “But, uh, earlier I was gonna tell you ‘break a leg’ and then I remembered you used to dance, sooo... merde.”

Tom raised his brows and chuckled. 

“You know that phrase too?” You nodded. “Well then merde to you, too. Oh, and I was wanting to ask if tonig-” 

Tom was cut off by someone once again needing to drag him away to prepare for the show, causing you both to toss waves at each other again. Maybe he’d finish his thought later.

This was it. The real deal. 

You took that as a cue to find your place by the monitors until after Tom’s monologue and the commercial break, when you’d start moving to stand with the band.

The cold open landed well, and you felt chills hearing two of the cast yell,

“And live from New York, IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT!”

The classic jazz music of SNL played over the intro and Tom made his way down the iconic steps to do his monologue. 

Your heart fluttered seeing him stand on that stage with a wide smile, waving at the crowd. He was dressed in a blue suit and his curls were styled just right. He looked incredible.

The monologue landed well and you felt an even bigger flutter as you heard Tom lead into commercial, saying the iconic line,

“We have a great show for you tonight! Y/n Y/l/n is here! So stick around we’ll be right back!”

With that the camera panned out and cut, and chaos began as the crew moved everyone to set the first live sketch. In the meantime, a prefilmed sketch played, the one you had participated in.

The audience cheered and laughed at your surprise appearance in the sketch, which made you feel really good. You had moved now to a place where you could see the stage in person.

The camera panned in as the audience applauded and the next sketch began. Even after having seen it multiple times that week, you couldn’t help but laugh as the ridiculous character Tom played so well. 

When they cut to another commercial break, it was your time to get ready to sing the first song. 

Your stomach fluttered like it always did before a show, but Tom shot you a thumbs up before the break ended and boosted your confidence. A camera was pointed in his face as he calmly said,

“Ladies and gentlemen, y/n y/l/n,” as he gestured towards you.

The lights came up and you began playing, and you became lost in the music like always. It came and ended quickly, and suddenly you were listening to the cheers of the audience. You waved and bowed in thanks as the cameras panned again.

Up came the weekend update, your favorite part of any Saturday Night Live. The jokes for the segment were typically written on Saturday, so many of them were new to you. 

Tom came and stood next to you during the update with a bowl-cut red wig dressed in khakis and a sweater vest over a button up. You looked him up and down amused.

“Your performance was amazing,” he whispered.

“Thanks. You’re doing great out there. They love you,” you whispered back.

“I sure hope so. Hey I’ve been trying to ask if-” he started, but then was cut off by someone grabbing him and leading him towards stage for the next sketch. Your stomach fluttered again.

What could he possibly want to ask me?

The live sketch transitioned into a prefilm and then you were up again, this song was more energetic and included some choreography, and you felt confident in the shimmering gold bodysuit and boots you were wearing. 

You happily danced and sung after Tom reintroduced you to the crowd and got a large round of applause. There was only one sketch left of the show and you were in it, so the team rushed you into a quickchange booth offstage to put on your costume and a quick wig.

The sketch began and you stood to the side nervously. When your cue came, you burst onto the stage clumsily, as directed by the script. Your character made some inappropriate comments to Tom’s which garnered you many laughs again.

It was satisfying.

Once the sketch ended, all that was left were the goodnights, so you were again rushed off to change into a cute jumpsuit and reaffix your hair. Tom came out in a blue suit with the jacket unbuttoned, a black tee underneath. 

You rushed to take your place next to him as other cast members filed in around you, Lorne standing in the middle of the room watching to make sure everyone came out. The audience applauded as the music played and camera panned.

After they gave the final countdown, Tom began giving thanks to many people, from cast and crew, to family, and to you.

“I want to give a huge thanks to tonight’s musical guest, y/n y/l/n,” he exclaimed, gesturing to you. The crowd cheered and you laughed and waved, giving him a joking elbow. 

“I love you all! Goodnight!” he finally exclaimed. 

With that, the music was brought up and everyone began hugging as the credits rolled. You immediately turned to Tom and he to you, both of you throwing arms wide. 

You wanted to hug him forever, but realized that it would look fishy and there were many people you still wanted to hug and thank.

Both of you pulled back, giving each other a quick “good job!” before turning to others.

***

You were finally offstage and had said quick goodbyes to your family, who wouldn’t be staying for the afterparty. As you headed towards the greenroom for the last time that night, you were stopped by Tom.

“Hey! Y/n,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh my gosh there you are!” you said, turning to give him another hug, this one more emotional and less performative.

“I’m serious y/n, you were incredible. I know I’ve said it a million times but you have a real gift. Not to mention your acting skills,” he said into the crook of your neck.

You pulled away to look at him, arms still loosely wrapped around him.

“Well thank you, but you were great too. Everyone loved you. I loved you out there.” You paused for a moment, arms sliding from his shoulders as you continued to walk down the hall. “You know I had a lot of fun this week. Doing this and just hanging out. I was really nervous to meet you.” 

“I did too, and yeah, we were all super nervous to meet you, too. Like I told you before, we listen to your music a lot. But, uh, that being said. All night I’ve been trying to ask if you’d like to go to the afterparty with me?”

“Oh yeah that’s perfect! Are the guys coming too?” you asked enthusiastically, not detecting the nervousness in his voice.

“No, no. I mean, yeah they’ll be there but...” he stopped and you followed suit. “I’d like you to go with me with me. And ideally leave with me... alone.” 

Your eyes widened and breath hitched. Now it clicked. He was asking you out.

“Oh! Well then... I’d like that very much.” You smiled.

“Yeah?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Let’s just say you were singing a different kind of tune that night once you left to your empty hotel room “with him.”

***

A/N: omg omg omg I started this story forever ago but finally got around to finishing it! No new marriage project chapter this week, I thought I’d just post this to hold y’all over ;) Thanks for reading!

Permanent tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl

If you’d like to be added, pls message or send an ask so you can verify that I’ve added you!

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Puppet Strings

Please don’t police the shit out of me for this one (I’ve read and seen all of what’s happening in Tumblr with the talented authors 😭😫---either way, I DGAF if I get judged for writing this. Y’all are getting this for free. LMAO. Welcome to my freakin’ kinky world. 😭

MASTERLIST

Characters: Stephen Colley x Reader

Summary: You’ve had Stephen wrapped around your finger by using your family’s kindness to your advantage---keeping him guilty and complying over whatever wishes you wanted---he was giving it due to your manipulative, cunning persona. You were being head-over-heels for him that made you have your reasons, thinking that being the way you are was fine for your strong obsession. 

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Manipulative reader. Obsessed reader. This is quite dark for me because she’s using our puppy to her benefit (somehow?)---using Stephen as if he’s her boy toy. Spitting. Sub!Stephen. Porn with a plot. (Though, this was planned to only be porn without a plot LMAO) Dub-con. Exhibitionism. Angst? Thirsty ass reader. Not connected to the plot of the movie.

Words: 3,810+

A/N: I didn’t know what happened that this ended up this way. Please don’t judge my soul for this.I was all ‘oh my baby stephen’ to writing this filthy shit. Also, Stephen’s 20 in this and the reader is 19, okay? So, legal. (In my country it is) ENJOY, FILTHY LADIES! This made me pout because of how soft Stephen is and the reader is quite...Eh. 😭 I think this will be a 3-5 part fic. Heehee. Or maybe not----lmao. We’ll see. 

Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB!  

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

THE SMELL OF BLUEBELLS WAS ARDENT AND SWITH, it's scent thoroughly withstanding and wafting through your nose with the odor of sweat. Stephen's earthy and musk scent adding more stimulation to what was being given down south and around the canvas of your breasts.

An ample amount of slime trailed a path from the swell of your knockers through the meander of your neck, feeling a pair of soft, delicate lips having its way and paving to have a suck; thrilled and exploratory over giving you a mark that you surely ordered him around to.

You've felt the tiny nibbles on your neck, feeling full over being filled by the cock of your family's lackey who happened to be under your manipulative, presumptuous fingers. Stephen was having his way with you, as he was commanded to do so in the middle of harvesting crops; all sweaty, dirty and masking in his domestic labor as your fingers hooked along his belt hoops, pulling him away from the field towards a veiled place where bluebells were filled.

The first time you've had sex with Stephen, he was beyond hesitant. His rosy cheeks fueled as if it was on fire from the moment you've asked him for more of his services; to be the one to take your virginity rather than a rich, middle aged man who had terrible mustaches that crept the heck out of you.

Stephen and his pure innocence understood your favors of help by wanting him to accompany you in the city while you buy things for yourself or stuff that your mother asked to buy.

Much to your dismay for his lack of apprehension, It wasn't the type of aid you were asking for.

How pretty his face flushed a lot more from how you've frankly told him that you needed a different type of assistance to satisfy that curiosity of yours made you giggle, the desire pooling more in the pit of your stomach, filling in the prurient passion as if it was enough to stimulate you.

Stephen Colley was utterly pretty, beyond God's work as he was sculpted with a face of a Greek God as people have been saying. Your family even admiring God's work of art by how he was created; enough to be painted and inspired to be sculptured in the museums. He was the first boy in your fantasies and the only one that could make you breathe deep breaths in between rubbing the itch in your mound as you explored your body by yourself that nobody ever had yet.

He was your fantasy. The boy in your dreams that you would gladly want to have in your life for years end.

After welcoming the afterglow of an orgasm, such debauched thoughts came into your head in the same time you've wanted to rub onto that button again for thinking about him.

You were going to have him. You wanted him, you've mindlessly convinced yourself. Stephen was a plague that could infect your precious little mind---the facade of an innocent, kind and shy sweetheart that your family has been seeing from you was ruined when you've reached puberty.

It wasn't helping that Stephen walked around the house with clothes that you surely want to ruin. Your mind being influenced by your older sister's experiences with men and how her sex life have been.

She was a wild one and deep inside---no matter how much you tell yourself that it was a deed that people respectfully hold onto, the untamed part of you wanted to experience it with the boy who had adorable rosy cheeks and a gorgeous accent that could make you gush.

Being in line with the heavens, you were lucky Stephen was quite naive despite being a year older than you and with all the plans you had inside your head, being manipulative and guilt-tripping him till he would obey was the only answer for him to accept your offers because the boy was beyond nice and respectful, innocent---delicate as he may seem in being a rose without thorns amongst the bundle of daisies growing along the field.

You weren't his first to be honest; hearing that he had his virginity taken by a lady when he was taking a trip to the city, the woman being older than him and enamored by his beauty, she was very pretty as Stephen saw her the first time---growing a little crush before the lady has offered him a night filled with pleasure, leaving him alone the next morning and a ton of cash that has left him heartbroken by expecting a number or a sweet filled morning with her.

Was this obsession you had for Stephen? you couldn't tell while having the luck of being boffed by him no matter how tentative he may been. The phrase you've been telling whenever he was reluctant held a powerful will for making him capitulate over your wishes.

'You're working for us---I'm your miss. Shouldn't you always follow what I have to say, Stephen?'

Guileful and conniving for you, but you've had no other choice especially when you've heard your sister gossip about how he was starting to take a liking over a girl across the neighborhood, the lady living in a castle---going way back with him and her family because they've known each other since they were kids until they've moved away and came back to their hometown.

Cassandra. That was her name. It was a name that should be left forgotten in Stephen's mind.

Your boy shifted in between your opened legs, your dress hiked up and his trousers unbuttoned; stopping on the end of his derriere as he stuck his swollen cock inside your tight folds, kissing and licking along your throat and breasts that had you mewling beneath him.

Begging him to take you in the middle of the grass to relieve that fantasy only he could satisfy, you've laid beneath him and promised that he could take his time and do whatever he pleases. Exploring every inch and depth of your body with your dress being in a bunch and unfastened by Stephen. Today, you've just wanted to feel him, touch him and let him be inside you because of certain feelings that can't be resisted.

He was patiently taking his time, both of you basking in the afternoon glow before dusk and never bringing in a gas lamp before night even arrives. Stephen was licking your taut nub, his mouth close to your nipple as his hot breath was fanning along his own saliva, bringing pleasure and satisfaction. Another weak whimper erupted from your mouth, watching his eyes closed; tongue darting out to flick your other hardened nipple before deeply moaning out his approval as he devoured your breasts with a tight, strong suck.

The lewd action was enough to make your spine and toes curl.

You've flexed your cunt, tightening around his girth and you've heard him lowly groan with your nipple in his mouth. He immediately pulled his mouth off your breasts with a pop. Innocent, lust-filled baby blues stared above you, the flicker in his eyes asking and waiting for your next behest.

"Stephen," was the only word you managed to croak out, sounding like you were being choked as you felt him slowly pull out of your thirsty cunt. He leaned his head to the left, dipping his head and giving you a kiss which caught you off-guard; it was plain and enough to take your mind off his throbbing cock that has slithered in. After being explored by his mouth on your body, Stephen's lips that landed on you to give a peck surely felt unfamiliar because you both rarely do share kisses in the midst of intercourse.

His crimson colored lips on yours felt divine. The sudden smooch probably involuntary in his part because of how sexually intimate you were being with him. You've swallowed the moan forming in your throat by feeling him wholly pull out, moaning and whining from the lack of imbue and by forcing yourself not to have your way with his lips---wanting nothing but to dance your mouth with his.

You knew this was a one-sided affection and he didn't entirely adored you like how you do for him.

Your fingers gripped onto the grass on either side, it traveled and clasped around Stephen's neck that felt balmy beneath the pad of your fingers. Drops of perspiration smoothening out as you watched him pant above you, breathless and in a daze. His cheeks turning rosier and crimson from such scabrous act you've brought him in.

He was heavy and scathing on your thigh. His hand grabbing onto the growing base of his throbbing, uncut, hard cock as he looked between you both, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he was feeling his cock on his hands, fingers enclosing around his girth to give it one jerk that made you salivate.

His neck was sweating, drops of perspiration falling along his temples and to distract yourself, you've darted your tongue out to sweep the sweat off his face, catching him off guard that made him throatily groan and cast you a look, his eyes withdrawn and thoroughly focused on what taboo you tried to help him be accustomed with.

The place you decided to be ravished on was rather risquè but also getting you more thrilled to know that your sister knew this spot as a location you always spend time with whenever you were reading. You've heard tiny shuffling of bushes which made Stephen look away and observe whoever that was with his eyebrows knotted together---distracting him and pushing the worry away just like you always do, you've quietly whispered in his ear.

"Put that cock in me, Stephen. Please,"

At the sound of you pleading, it was enough to pull his thoughts away from being concerned over your family catching you both in such a raunchy moment. Their daughter laid amongst the land, being ravished by their worker who they've trusted for all their heart---a boy whom they didn't expect to be salaciously connected with you.

The both of you were in for a tough scolding if caught.

Pointing the head of his cock in your entrance, he'd swiftly drove in. You were wet enough for him to slip inside with the right tightness of your cunt that pushed him to grunt as he filled you in one go. Your back curled from the penetration, the thirst for sexual gratification being answered by Stephen when he started to thrust his hips, experimenting over the pace that could make you moan around his arms before pummeling like how he wanted to.

"Oh yeah---yeah---yes, just like that," you've choked in your own moans and pleasure, licking your lips and watching how he was defiling your cunt with his cock, your slick moisturizing his---the filthy sound of your juices coating his, thrusting in and out of your folds; becoming music to the sound of insects probably watching how you were both sending each other raptures.

Stephen knew how thrilled you were becoming by the audible sound of how filthy he was making you feel. Being aware of the obscene sound whenever he tries to fasten the pace, slowing down to let you both appreciate the erotic sense of debauchery has gotten you biting your lip up at him.

You were his miss and whatever you wanted was his job to give.

He'd slip a hand in between you, the pad of his thumb finding your clit and when he did, Stephen started rubbing that throbbing nub of yours in rough, circular motions making your core jerk, your hips chasing his hand with each thrust he gives; entirely accepting and embracing the sheer pleasure he was giving.

Your boy was deeply grunting with each shove of his hips, his cock befouling your scheming soul and you were loving every moment---cherishing the sounds he create that only you could muster.

Only you, not Cassandra---not anyone.

In the midst of such onslaught and currently trapped in your own bliss, you've never took heed of Stephen panting out your name; thinking that he was bemoaning his desperation for continuously prodding your hole in a greedy pace, his carping had a flicker of perturbation in his diluted, lust-filled baby blues as he tried to catch your attention.

"Miss---Miss," Stephen couldn't stop his smutty assaults. Too concentrated on reaching both of your highs as he peered down at you with his peepers growing larger when he heard your name being called from afar; being an echo of warning that what you were both caught up with was utterly unchaste.

"---your family---ugh---they're seeking for you," he grunted with every word and plunge; his pace never stopping and his fingers reaching further down to polish your clit. Your leak being spread all over your folds as he licked his lips, admiring how you were writhing beneath his body---how you reacted to his ministrations.

Their voices echoed from afar, alerting you both that they were closer than you imagined them to be. It was the dead of the night already, the time after nightfall as you both welcomed the sins of passion that you have gotten Stephen to be involved in again. Being in the shadows of the night, the moment was easier to covert from your family as you laid to satisfy your mania. The ruffle of grass being stepped on repeatedly actually has been the sound of Stephen ardently violating your cunt along the land of dew.

You've both turned your heads to see light coming from the far distance. A buzz of incomprehensible words of unknown from your sister who was mindlessly telling her hunches as to where you both went; remembering that Stephen was also not around for her to ask if he could buy stuff around town because it was already night time.

"Oh, yes!---don't mind them!---just do me,"

He slowed down his pace, skeptical over being caught but never stopping his thrusts while his features turned conflicted over being dubious and also feeling like he was floating for the twist of elation written on your face from his drives. You've grabbed onto his hair, roughly turning his head to face yours as he loudly grunted and groaned above you, the sound made you slip a finger on his lips to shush his moans.

"You're not going to get caught---we're not going to get caught. Just stifle your moans. You can do that. You're a good boy---our good boy and you'll make me cum, right?"

The whispers you've managed to slip past your lips made him stare down at you, understanding what you were trying to point out and it has not been seconds before he'd nodded before you, starting his relentless pace that made you sigh as he was trying to build up your orgasm again, grabbing onto your ankle and hooking it around his hip as he continued to forge himself in you; his breath hitting your face with every push---grunts being uncontrolled from the actions.

You've heard a twig break from behind, not wanting Stephen to be distracted---you've grabbed onto his face and forced him to look at you; your heart beat never ceasing to run fast whenever he stares into your eyes. The fast heart beat also being the cause of your orgasm coming.

He'd shifted in between you, your hips bucking to meet every thrust he offered. Mewling out lewd moans whenever he hits that spot that felt so heavenly. Reaching for his hand, you've guided him back to where he has been flicking---your clit that he immediately rubbed on as you were approaching your high.

Loud, rough grunts came from his throat, feeling his own coming as your cunt gripped him hard for the sounds he was creating. Your mouth and face contorted in sheer pleasure when you've violently thrashed against his hold. Stephen's unconscious response was to grab onto you, keeping you closer to his lean, muscular body---a wiry sculpted body from all the hard work that he does for your family; convulsing in his arms as you gushed around his penetrative cock.

Rambunctious ugh's came from the both of you, especially from your boy who was in the midst of coming. Your sensitive cunt was jolting as Stephen went on in propelling himself, his face of bliss bringing you ecstacy as it was hot for a beautiful face to be debauched like that. You've forgotten your family who was in search for you when he wholly pulled out just in time for him to spill his warm seed over your torso, his load shooting out in spurts as he breathed heavily above you.

You've both shared silence after a moment of paradise. As a habit you've held Stephen accountable, he'd delicately held onto your jaw with his calloused fingers, pinching them together to set forth over opening your mouth. It was an understanding and idea that you told him about after an act of pleasure. He was against the idea at first before you've basically convinced him that there would be no moment as if you were being degraded. But, he somehow has become used to it after quite some time.

Besides, it was one of your wishes. His miss surely needed to have it when she wants it.

Gradually opening your lips, Stephen has lined his mouth on you. Drawing down a line of spit and aiming to shoot it inside; thoroughly not bothered about the fact of it already as he spat inside your mouth, making you grin as he gathered his spilled cum on your torso with a finger, slipping them inside your vermillion, his eyes in a daze as he concentrated over the mouth that has sucked on his cream-filled fingers---swallowing the mixture of his saliva and release like it was food for your tainted soul.

He certainly didn't expect you to be ribald and deceptive from such a religious family---But, considering your sister and her liberated moments, maybe it was probably in the blood.

"Was it how you liked it today?" he simply acknowledged, tone curious over the fact of being caught by your family was thrilling you which is why you've dragged him along the meadow while he was working, asking him for a quick frigging in a deserted, furtive space.

Stephen helped you wear your dress after snapping his breeches back, keeping himself decent. He still wore his white, dirt-filled tank top. Slipping over his suspenders on his shoulders, the latter remained sitting on the grass as you stood up. The expression on his face mixed with a look of a puppy who was blushing under the moon light, his hair utmost unkempt and clothes looking rumpled as if he had a wild night.

"It was everything, Stephen." you softly muttered, flattening the stresses of your dress with the back of your hand, erasing any proof or evidence that you had a nooky with your family's beautiful helper. A sigh left your lips as the ache of thirst was probing your spine, yearning for more than once today.

"---But, can you do me one more favor?"

"Anything, Miss Y/N."

Stephen waited and watched for your response, seeing you ogling at his beauty as he sat silently, catching sight of those suggestive flicker of your eyes under the night.

You've knelt before him, having your height differences obvious from how you tried being eye to eye as he was still taller than you. He'd simply studied your face, changing into an expression that he wouldn't get to reject---not that he ever does because he had no other choice but to follow what you wanted because you were still his patron.

"Can you visit my chambers after dinner?"

He was quick to become uncertain over the service being asked. His thoughts hastily going to what happened in the middle of fornication a while ago; the risk of being exposed by your family for what you both decided to tumble through the afternoon, "But, Miss---"

His protests were cut short when you've distracted him with a delicate kiss to the lips, using it to your advantage as it left seeing him swallowing his apprehension down in the pit of his stomach. Kissing you back with a soft peck that got you sighing when he pulled away to wait for your answer, his complains never being risked to be told. Currently disoriented from the kiss you've given him out of the blue and from the feeling of being confused over what he should feel for letting you have him explicitly.

"My family won't be awake in the middle of the night,"

"Would...you wish to be ravished again?" he understood what you wanted. Another part of his services that he only gives you because you were artful enough to manipulate him into thinking that the idea was fine---that giving you his body and soul was fine.

Stephen had his utmost respect for everyone in your family because he was thankful for them to be employed in the household. Which is why he was even helping you in this part of favor that he surely could have no say about.

"Yes. Can I have you for the night?---I need you tonight,"

He gave a small smile, his fingers reaching for a couple of bluebells from behind. Completely helpless to be under your demands, "If you are in need of it, then I suppose it is fine. Will it help you sleep at night?" the latter slipped the flower behind your ear, his beam so precious with a soul valuable enough to be exploited or influenced by your manipulative ploys.

"Yes---Yes, it does. It'll keep me in deep slumber rather than sleeping like I never have slept at all,"

"---Then you can have me again if you want to---all night if you wish so,"

You've let him tuck the flower, appreciating how handsome and charming he sweetly smiled when you've taken his fingers and kissed every pad of it.

"Thank you, Stephen. You're amazing,"

"Anything for you, Miss."

There will be no place for Cassandra or any other women in his mind. You were determined to swarm his thoughts with only you---where he would worship no other woman nor let him have the desire to feel pleasure over others. From the moment he came into your lives, you've already marked him as your person when you were younger; having this toxic affection for him from the moment you've seen his sweet, seraph face. His personality and characteristics being adding more to your fixation when he was so kind to be gullible---fastening him in a physical-venereal connection that would aid to your benefit.

Stephen Colley was only yours and a puppy---your puppy that you would gladly take care of forever even if it means to be the bad guy in the house.

So, what’s cooking? LMAO. Leave feedbacks to give me power to write the second part. HA!

General taglist for Henry and his characters: @agniavateira​, @iloveyouyen​, @rahdaleigh​, @silverkitten547​, @henrythickcavill​, @kaatelyyynn​

[silmarillionwritersguild]

Member Input on Proposed Changes to Our Site Etiquette and Rebuild Updates

(Please note that I am including the silmarillion and tolkien tags for this post, since it is the first of several related to our site rebuild. In order to avoid spamming those tags in the future with content only peripherally Silmarillion- or Tolkien-related, I will use the tag swg rebuild. Please follow that tag for updates, including opportunities for community input into decisions.)

As many of you know, we are actively rebuilding our website/archive. The software we currently use for the archive (eFiction) stopped being updated years ago, and we have been casually batting around alternatives to eFiction for the past few years. Then, last year, our webhost made some upgrades that broke parts of the site, and it became clear that we couldn't be "casual" about it any longer. If we were going to keep the site up, we needed to switch to something other than eFiction.

Russandol is currently working on getting our server set up for the new site, and I am working on building it using Drupal, an open-source content management system. We don't have a timeline yet for when it will be complete, but my hope is that we can begin using it within the next few months. The new site will let us introduce features that people have been asking for for a while: threaded comments, the option to display all chapters on a single page, a mobile-friendly display, and the addition of fanwork types other than writing and audio. We will be able to replicate most--if not all--of the features we have in eFiction. And most importantly, because Drupal is one of the biggest open-source projects in the world and very actively maintained, we should not find ourselves in the same situation ten years down the road, needing to rebuild from scratch or face obsolescence.

In addition to the software of the site itself, many of our policies and documents have fallen out of date, so we are working on revising those too. Over the next few months, as we undertake this work, we will be soliciting feedback on policy updates and site-building decisions from our members on matters where we believe input beyond the mod team is essential. While we cannot operate this group fully democratically--we have to, for example, consider the impact of decisions on the mods and volunteers who run the site--we will take this feedback into account to the greatest extent possible as we make decisions. The first document we sought to revise was our Site Etiquette/Terms of Service. Initially written when the site was built in 2007 (and based on policies and decisions from the SWG's founding in 2005), it not surprisingly needs some revisions to make it relevant to the Tolkien fanfic fandom in 2020.

Site Etiquette Change Regarding Constructive Criticism

When the SWG was founded 15 years ago, it was intended as a writer's workshop. Furthermore, there was an assumption in many parts of the fandom that people wrote fanfiction to improve as writers and should, therefore, always be open to constructive criticism (concrit) on their work. Our Site Etiquette was written with the expectation in mind that concrit would always be permitted on the archive. Here is the current language:

This group was designed as a place where authors could get help and feedback on their writing. As such, you should expect constructive criticism on the work that you share here. If you are seeking only praise for your work, then this is probably not the best place to share it. Along the same lines, if you choose to reply to your reviewers, please do so politely. Not everyone will like every aspect of your work. You are welcome—and encouraged—to contact your reviewers for clarification when necessary, not to strike up arguments or berate the reviewer because s/he did not like certain aspects of your work. In the instance that you feel that a review is inappropriately harsh, please contact a moderator. There is Reviewer Etiquette here as well! Please do not reply to the review. We will gladly handle the situation for you. . . . SWG was founded as a place for authors to get feedback and help with their writing. As such, constructive criticism is welcomed here. However, diplomacy is required. Reviewers are expected to be courteous and respectful of all authors and stories that they choose to review. If you are not familiar with the concept of diplomatic reviews, then I highly recommend that you read our diplomacy guidelines before beginning to submit reviews. These are the standards to which all reviewers will be held on this site.

Obviously, the purpose of the group has changed. We are not a writer's workshop. Perhaps more importantly, the fandom has evolved in its understanding of the purpose of fanfiction and the appropriateness of unsolicited constructive criticism. Not every fanfic writer wants to improve--and that's fine!--and each author has their own revision process that doesn't necessarily include unsolicited critical feedback on an archive. Our current Site Etiquette is not aligned with current fandom norms; in fact, considering that we aim above all to be a space that is welcoming to all Tolkien fans, telling writers that they must accept concrit on their stories, no matter its value to them, in order to post with us potentially creates situations that are the exact opposite of the welcoming atmosphere we hope to create.

As a result, we are proposing to eliminate this part of our Site Etiquette. However, recognizing that some authors do in fact want and value concrit from their readers, we are proposing the following:

The story submission form will include a short checklist of kinds of feedback the author would like to receive. Constructive criticism will be one option.

Readers who choose to comment will be expected to abide by the author's wishes for constructive criticism, i.e., if the author has not asked for concrit, the commenter should not include concrit in their comment. In the event that they do, the author can request that the comment be edited or deleted; repeated violations by a commenter could result in suspension of the commenter's account, in line with our "three strikes" policy.

If an author asks for concrit, the commenter is still expected to abide by the SWG's diplomacy guidelines.

Authors do not have to select an option. (In other words, this is not one more requirement to angst over! :) If authors do not choose what kinds of feedback they'd like to receive, concrit is not permitted.

Authors can change their preferences for feedback on a story at any time, e.g., if an author posts a new story on which she'd like feedback and later revises the story and considers it finished, she can remove concrit from the list of feedback she'd like to receive.

Because this is almost a 180 from our current policy on concrit, we do want to hear from members who might have concerns about the change, as well as from members about the proposed revision/feedback checklist option on the story submission form. Please comment here with questions, suggestions, or concerns, or email us at moderator@silmarillionwritersguild.org if you'd rather register your comments privately.

Inclusivity Focus Group

In recognition that fandom has actively and implicitly excluded fans from certain groups, we are working on an inclusivity statement for the SWG as part of our Site Etiquette and Terms of Service. We would like this statement to be shaped by the input of fans who are part of groups that have been marginalized in fandom, such as BIPOC fans, fans with disabilities, LGBTQ+ fans, and fans who are members of minority religions. In addition, we are seeking specific input on site policies as we undertake revisions. If you feel that you belong to a marginalized group and would like to shape the SWG's goals and policies around inclusivity, we would love your input!

The inclusivity discussion will take place on a dedicated channel on our Discord server. If you are interested in being a part of the discussion, please let one of the server mods (Dawn, Grundy, or Suzelle) know so that we can add you to the channel. (Again, commenting here is fine, as is emailing moderator@silmarillionwritersguild.org; just let me know your Discord name if it doesn't match your username here!) If you'd like to join our Discord server, comment here or email us for an invite.

If Discord is not accessible to you but you'd like to be a part of the inclusivity discussion, email me at moderator@silmarillionwritersguild.org so that we can figure out accommodations.

We will be taking comments on both issues for the next week, so please share any thoughts you have before next Wednesday, August 12.

(Posted by @dawnfelagund)

[omnivorousshipper]

How about 94 Hair brushing/braiding for shobbs? Lol just kidding, what about 14 Bodyguard AU + 23 Performer AU?

🤣🤣 ok, you just made my day friend! My mind immediately blue screened when I say the “hair brushing” only until I saw you were joking

Luke is the body guard, and usually gets gigs with celebrities and other high profile people. He just got a job with the newest band around, a group that consists of three siblings

They used to be called Brixton and The Shaws, but the sibs just had a huge falling out with Brixton, and split from him after a huge disagreement. Now their fans are upset, and the Shaws have brought on Luke to help with their current security

When Luke meets the siblings, he’s not quite impressed. Their manager, Mr. Nobody, was leading him into their penthouse and they’re both met with screaming, shouting, and a large crash. All three sibs are in a shouting match, with one of the brothers knocking something to the floor

Luke doesn’t like drama, especially when he has to deal with it in his clients. He’s about to quit the job, knowing the other group, The Toretto’s, will gladly accept his services.

He and Mr. Nobody watch as all three sibs stomp away from each other, all clearly pissed off.

“Well, that was not how I imagined your first day to go,” Mr. Nobody jokes with him. “We’ll try this again later.”

After being shown around the place and told about all the other bodyguards’ schedules, they come back to the living room, where one of the brothers is

“Ah! There you are Deckard! I want you to meet your newest bodyguard, Luke Hobbs.”

Deckard looks him up and down, before shaking Luke’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you,” Luke says. “But I have to ask. Am I going to have to see the shit I saw early frequently? Cause I’ll tell you right now, I’m not going to deal with it.”

He can see Deckard bristle like a cat like that. Luke can’t help the smirk on his face at the way Deckard glares at him.

“No, we don’t usually act like that. But, that shouldn’t be any of your concern,” Deckard growls at him

Luke can feel his fists tightening at the guy’s tone, but Mr. Nobody steps in before anything can happen

“Now, gentlemen, lets just calm down.”

After that, for some reason unknown to him, Luke stays with the Shaws.

He sees that Deckard was right, the sibs usually are pretty calm around each other. It’s only when Deckard gets after his siblings sleeping around do tensions get high.

None of the sibs really talk to him, and Luke’s alright with that. He doesn’t like getting buddy buddy with his clients.

It’s not until after one performance that Luke really has to act on his job. Both Owen and Hattie have gone off somewhere, the other bodyguards following them, while Luke sticks with Deckard in their hotel room.

There’s a knock on the door suddenly.

“You expecting someone?” Luke asks

Deckard just shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion

Checking the peephole, Luke sees Brixton Lore standing outside.

He hesitates. Hes about to ignore Brixton when Deckard comes up and peers out himself.

“That fucker-!” Deckard growls and throws open the door

And Luke has to scramble to grab Deckard before his fist can meet Brixton’s smirking face

“Miss me that much, babe?”

“You absolute wanker! Get the hell out of here!”

Luke’s able to manhandle Deckard back inside and slam the door shut.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Luke shouts as he nearly flings Deckard back into the room. “Do you want him to file a lawsuit against you?!”

And that’s when Luke looks at Deckard. His face is scrunched up in anger, fists balled up, but tears are running down his face as he stares Luke down

Luke doesn’t know anything about what Brixton did to Deckard, but he’s now faced with the idea that it was just more than a band break up.

Deckard angry scrubs at his face before spitting out.

“Get that arsehole out of here! I don’t want to see him again!”

And even though the order is shouted at him, Luke doesn’t fault Deckard and does what he said

He calls up the hotel’s security and asks one of the guys to send him a copy of Brixton getting dragged out of the hotel

After that, Luke knocks on Deckard’s door.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.”

And he opens the door and Luke can’t help but feel sorry for him. He looks so warn out and alone at that moment.

They both head back to the main part of the large hotel room, and when Luke sits down on the couch, he’s surprised when Deckard sits right next to him and leans his head on him.

Luke doesn’t say anything, just wraps an arm around Deckard’s shoulder

I think I might have wrote a little too much 😅 hope you enjoy friend!

[himbowelsh]

I love your writing! I don't think I have seen him yet, so sweet Carwood Lip please for the Valentine's alphabet, if you have the time 💖

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

He has a very gentle presence, which allows him to share space with someone without being overwhelming. Lip’s love languages are quality time  ---  he thrives in being around people, actively listening to them and getting to know them  ---  and acts of service. Once he knows them well, he’s able to be there for them, doing little things to help them out when they need it most. Lip is a generous guy to begin with, but he’s at his best when able to do things for others. He’s a giver. While not shy about physical affection, he uses it strategically, more to reinforce his presence than be excessively affectionate.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He has a special fondness for flowers, in the “I should probably not be left alone to grow any of them myself” way. He enjoys looking at them, and his mother maintained a lovely garden which he helped with on occasion, under her strict supervision. Bouquets are a favorite gift, and he’s likely to show up with a nice one to any special occasion.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s not a big fan...  so he’d claim, 'til he spots a bowl of brownie batter, at which point he must be fought off with the nearest ladle.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He wouldn’t mind something simple and quiet  ---  maybe a night at home, where he gets to surprise his partner with a homemade dinner. He’d light some candles, get out the nice silverware, and just enjoy the time with his partner; afterwards, they’d go out onto the porch with mugs of coffee or tea, drinking in the quiet night. He’s also partial to visits to museums. Being surrounded by art gives him a certain sense of peace, an insight into humanity as more than it currently is; that’s something he’d love to share with his partner.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

It’s all about the arms, man. We knows this. He had the arms of a bear-faced god, and isn’t afraid to use them. Being hugged by Lip is like curling up by a fire, under your comfiest blanket, with a good book and a warm drink. He makes people feel safe.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Shy boy. Flirting is definitely not where he excels, and he’s too guileless to do it properly. Just...  approaching a stranger and winking at them? “Chatting them up”? That’s...  uncomfortable.He’s the sort of guy to buy people drinks at the bar and genuinely not expect anything in return, though it’d be nice if they did. Lip is much more flirtatious once actually in a relationship  ---  he jokes and teases in a charming, restrained way that’s utterly him.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’s a very thoughtful gift giver, who takes the time to observe what people need, and genuinely listens to them when they talk about things they’re looking for. Unconsciously, he keeps mental lists of gift ideas for all the people in his life, and refers to them whenever a birthday or holiday comes up. He’s not excessive with his gifts, but they’re always just right. (Except when it comes to clothes. He should never be allowed to pick out clothes for other people, especially women’s clothing.)

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He cares for a lot of people, but Lip is always cautious; his heart is a carefully guarded thing, and once he trusts someone with it, he wants to know that they’re the right person. His heart is won gradually, over a period of coming to know and love a person better. 

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

He finds it very easy, as soon as he knows it within his own heart. Lip could absolutely be the first one to say it in a relationship  ---  and wouldn’t be discouraged if his partner didn’t immediately say it back, because everything comes in it’s own time. He’d rather it be natural than forced in the moment. Lip doesn’t say it constantly, but every time he does, the words carry twice their original meaning.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

While certainly not intimidated easily, Lip has a jealous streak he goes to great efforts to smother. It’s not gentlemanly, it’s not always sensible, and certainly not something to make a scene in public over...  but he might pointedly capture his partner’s attention if he feels it straying, and try to discuss things in private afterwards. He doesn’t like this part of himself, but he can get a bit defensive sometimes.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Lip...  thinks he’s a worse kisser than he is. He underestimates himself. Sometimes overthinking gets the better of him; he’s hyperconscious of where his hands are, what his partner’s body is doing, how they’re responding, whether he’s being gentlemanly or over-forceful...  Lip’s kisses tend to be restrained and respectful, not assuming anything. The farthest he’ll go is sucking on his partner’s lip a little, just to test their response. Whatever response they give, and whatever lead they take, he’ll go from there. Given the proper cues,

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

His mother and brother, absolutely; his friends, completely; his neighbors, because he’s the sort of guy who knows his neighbors’ names, and helps Old Mrs. Huston down the street with her groceries every week; and his partner, with all his heart, if he were to have one.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He’s at his most sappy romantic mid-morning, when the sun’s high in the sky and the world is finding its rhythm. Getting to spend a quiet morning in with his partner sounds like heaven.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

He’s willing to follow his partner anywhere they want to take him; Lip can never be comfortable until he’s sure his partner is, and is sure of what they want. Now, if they want him to be dominant, he’ll do it gladly...  but he’ll never be rough. He’s very into hearing his partner talk during sex, mostly because he wants to keep tabs and know how they’re doing; but if his partner’s the one who seizes control, Lip runs out of words very quickly. Harsh breathing, moans even when he tries to hold them back, eyes squeezed shut to cling to his self-control... into hand holding during sex.  He’s a very physical lover, with a lot of stamina; sometimes leaves bruises without meaning to and feels guilty afterwards  (aftercare with Lip is like going to a spa). Occasionally he enjoys music to set the mood, or even candlelight, but Lip’s versatile. If his partner’s up for it, he can rumble pretty much anywhere.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

He’s a surprisingly skilled writer, and can be quite eloquent when he puts his mind to it. Though plainspoken by nature, Lip’s written a few poems for his private collection, and would definitely try his hand at love poetry for his partner. They’re not half-bad.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Lip kind of wants someone who can keep him on his toes a bit. For as steady as he is, he’s drawn to unpredictable people, with a healthy sense of humor. Someone who appreciates quiet, but knows exactly when to fill it; someone who isn’t afraid of responsibility or commitment. A hard worker; someone who can carry an intelligent conversation, and is naturally a thinker. If they share common interests, like literature/museums/engineering, he’d be absolutely delighted. Above all else, Lip’s drawn to people with beautiful smiles, even if they don’t show it off that often.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Call him traditional (it’s valid, cause he is) but Lip would like to be the one to pop the question. As soon as he decides that, yes, he wants to spend the rest of his life with this person, Lip’s next step is to evaluate  ---  do they feel the same way? He spends a while overthinking this question before finally deciding to just take the leap and buy a ring. The proposal will come in a quiet moment, when he and his partner are both feeling equally at peace. If his partner beats him to it, he’ll be surprised, of course...  but either way, the end result is the same. If it means spending

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He wishes he were more romantic...  but, unfortunately, practicality is ingrained in this man’s bones. He’ll definitely surprise his partner with bouquets on occasion, and thinks very carefully about gifts, but he’s not the ‘spontaneous romantic adventure’ sort.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He had a few middle school crushes that never went anywhere; that’s as far as Little Lip’s love life ever went. He bore a lot of responsibility from a young age, so never really had time to mess around.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

He...  would have to see it firsthand to believe in it, but he believes in individual cases of it. Like, his mother and father  ---  that was true love. Lip saw the way they looked at each other, so there’s not a doubt in his mind. He doesn’t believe it’s everywhere, or even common, but in certain cases true love definitely exists. Maybe it’s out there for him, too...  he hopes so.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

In a romantic relationship? Not...  not really. Lip’s got a strong heart. It’s endured a lot, and can endure more.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

He’s a very proper “dinner date and a box of chocolates” type, so would go out of his way to do something nice for a partner, but doesn’t make much of the day himself.

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yes, this is absolutely something he wants! Lip’s given it a lot of thought, and the idea of raising his own family appeals greatly to him; he lost his father at such a young age that he really wants to be a constant, supportive presence in his childrens’ lives. And, more than anything, he wants to spend a lifetime with someone he loves. That would make any future struggles and past strifes worth it.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Very conservative with them. “Sweetheart” or dimunitives of someone’s name is probably as far as he’d go.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Again, yes, and he doesn’t like it about himself! Of course, Lip would move mountains when the people he loves need help  ---  there’s no shame in that  ---  but when it comes to his partner, he can get territorial. Seeing someone threaten his partner is one of the few things he’ll get angry about, and a pissed off Carwood Lipton is not something anyone wants to confront firsthand.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Not a lot. He went to college for a short time, and that was really where he was able to let loose; while still a diligent student, he went to a few parties and met a few girls. So, by the time of the war, maybe three partners? Enough that he’s not nervous in bed, and has a good idea what goes where.

[pessimisticlatte]

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 14

Miraculous Ladybug fanfic

Adrienette ~ Lukagami ~ Marichat ~ Alynino ~ Chlobrina ~ Nathemilie ~ Gabriel x death ~ Lila x an unexplained disappearence ~ Platonic Marigami, Adrinino, Lukadrien, Alyanette, and Chlonette

“In honour of my darling son, Adrien’s, 18th birthday, I would like to formally invite the superheroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir, to celebrate with us at La Chateau du Agreste in Alsace in three weeks time,” Standing straight backed with his hands loosely clutched at the base of his spine, Gabriel spoke into the camera with an emotionless visage. He was widely known as a man of little emotion and he assumed that even when his son and heir the public would find it highly worrying to see him express anything. “Their friends, Carapace, Rena Rouge, Queen Bee, Ryuko and Viperion are more than welcome to attend too as this occasion is a celebration of my son’s 18 years.”

Finishing his spiel, Gabriel turned away from the camera. “Turn it off, Nathalie, I am finished,” Stepping forward, Nathalie ended the recording and pressed the SD card free, clutching it in her hand tightly but not tightly enough to break it. “I expect that edited and sent to all news networks within the hour. You may take your leave.”

“Thank you, Mr Agreste,” Giving a stiff bow, Nathalie began to stride to the door, keeping the boiling anger in her stomach from breaking the surface of her icy demeanour. 

“Nathalie,” His words caused her to pause as her fingertips brushed the doorknob. “You will service me tonight, oui?”

He used the word service like she was nothing more than a prostitute that he would dole coin out to for subpar sexual relief. Nathalie has convinced herself that she was in love with Gabriel but the more time she’d spent lamenting over his treatment of her, the more she’d realised that she was nothing more than a warm body to him. But she didn’t have the strength to fight him on this now, not when he was inviting Ladybug and Chat Noir to the chateau for Adrien’s 18th. She knew that they’d take the party as a sign to steal the Butterfly miraculous out from under Gabriel’s nose and she was terrified for the damage such an event would have on Adrien. Nathalie didn’t want him to think she’d had a hand in his father destroying his 18th, and she certainly didn’t want him to think that the destruction was intentionally to drive his girlfriend away from him. 

“Oui, sir,” Nodding half heartedly, Nathalie gave in and turned the doorknob, closing the white painted door behind her with a subtle click.

~~~~~~~~

Lying with his head in Marinette’s lap, Adrien closed his eyes and sighed happily through his nose as he felt Mari’s long fingers thread through the golden strands of his hair. They were sitting in the park across from their school, a picnic mat spread out beneath them and the remains of their lunch packed back into the fabric basket Marinette had brought with her. The sun warmed his face but not as much as the presence of Mari, of his lady, warmed his chest and stomach. Soft fingertips brushed the corners of his upturned lips as he angled his head slightly into Mari’s caresses.

“You’re beautiful,” He didn’t open his eyes as he spoke, her fingers mapping the planes of his face in the shining daylight, despite the cold chill beginning to swirl around them.

“Your eyes are closed,” There was a laugh in her voice that brought a full smile to his lips as the pad of Mari’s finger flicked off the tip of his nose gently. 

“That doesn’t mean that you’re not beautiful,” Her hands returned to massaging his scalp, Adrien released an involuntary purr at the sensation.

“D-did you just purr?” The massage paused for a split second as Mari spoke in awed disbelief.

“What of it?” Not opening his eyes, Adrien nudged his head back into her hand to coax her into resuming her ministrations. 

“Silly kitty,” Before he knew it, Marinette had leaned down and pressed her lips gently to his, the warm breath from her nose as she exhaled fanning over his chin. She tried to pull away but Adrien raised a hand to the back of her head and pulled her back down, trying to deepen the kiss despite their awkward positioning.

“Public park, lovebirds,” Alya’s voice startled them both, causing Adrien to smack his forehead against Marinette’s chin as he dove to sit up. “That has got to be the least graceful I’ve ever seen you, Agreste.”

Rubbing his forehead, Adrien scowled at Alya as she and Nino approached them, hand in hand. Worried, Mari scanned her eyes over Adrien’s forehead before pressing a kiss to the middle of it and moving to settle into his side.

“Good to see you happy, dude,” Nino extended a fist to Adrien, the blonde boy bumping his against it with a broad grin. “But we’re going to have to pop the bubble for a second.”

“What’s up, Nino?” Mari’s eyes grew wider slightly as she glanced up at Adrien.

“Well, your dad has decided to throw you a big ass party for your 18th, Adrien,” Adrien groaned and hung his head at Nino’s words, there was a small gasp of excitement from Mari though that sent Adrien’s mind into a dizzying spin of excitement for Marinette to meet Nathalie formally as his girlfriend and terror for his father’s cynical judgement of her. 

“He knows I hate parties, why would he do this?” Groaning, Adrien raised his head and slumped his shoulders.

“I don’t think Nino or Alya can answer that, Chaton, as neither of them are your father,” Mari flicked the side of his head with her long fingers.

“The party is at La Chateau du Agreste in Alsace,” The way Alya’s tongue curved over the name of Adrien’s family estate was perfect, better than the Agreste boy himself had ever been able to pronounce the title of his ancestral home. “And your dad has invited Ladybug, Chat Noir and the rest of the team.”

“Shit,” Adrien was at a loss for words other than profanity. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!”

A nearby mother scowled in Adrien’s direction as she pressed her hands over her young daughter’s ears and steered the child away from the congregation of teenagers.

“Adr-Adrien, stop,” Placing a gentle hand on her boyfriend’s face, Mari turned his gaze so it met hers with wide, imploring eyes. “This could be the perfect chance to whisk Nooroo away from him.”

He was shaking, he hadn’t noticed that he was shaking until he raised his own hand to cover Marinette’s, squeezing her hand gently. 

“Do you two want to sit down?” Glancing away from Adrien for a second, Mari invited Alya and Nino to sit with them, the other couple gladly taking up spots opposite their friends on the picnic mat. “Adrien, you’re shaking.”

“Yeah, I know,” He smiled weakly and slid their joined hands off his face, holding her smaller hand between his larger ones in his lap. A faint dusting of pink began to rise across Marinette’s nose and cheeks as she smiled shyly. “I’m going to be there regardless of whether I want to go or not so it’s not like we have a choice to skip my 18th.”

“You know we’re going to throw you a party Adrien-style after your dad’s big ass fiesta, right?” Nino scratched the side of his face as Alya cleaned her glasses on a small wipe she’d pulled from his pocket, his eyes trained on his best friend as he spoke. “Laser tag, a cake made by Mari, Luka’s houseboat decked out in fairy lights, you know, the usual.” Nino shrugged.

“Sounds great, Nino,” Giving a sincere half smile, Adrien nudged Mari with his shoulder slightly. “But Father has invited Chat Noir and Ladybug so how are we going to get them in attendance if Miss Dupain-Cheng and I are going to be the centre of attention?”

A smirk curved on Alya’s lips as a devious twinkle lit in her amber eyes. Nino’s eyes flicked between his girlfriend and their friends as thinly veiled terror sparked in his eyes, he knew that look too well and it meant that Alya was planning something. Too often, the plan didn’t include telling him until after it had gone very right or extremely wrong.

“Rena Rouge at your service, milady and milord,” Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, Alya’s grin grew wider as her three friends came to the realisation of what plan was cooking in her insane and intelligent mind. “If you need to see double, leave it to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~ “Maman? Papa?” Pushing the door of the bakery open with her shoulder, Marinette called out to her parents with a sweet sing-song voice. She could hear her father bustling through the kitchen in the back, the smell of baking cinnamon and date bread wafting through the beautiful interior of the bakery and reminding Mari of childhoods full of sticky dough and soft laughs, calloused hands teaching her how to make a perfect braided loaf as her mother sang gentle songs in Mandarin. 

“Marinette?” Closing the door behind her to keep the heat in, Marinette was greeted by the small, flour dusted figure of her mother, Sabine. There was a small apron wrapped around Sabine’s waist to protect her pants from the bakers flour that was an inescapable part of her life and to make wiping her hands that much easier. “Let me take your coat.”

Sabine reached to help Marinette remove her fleece lined jacket but was waved away by her daughter, Marinette comfortable with taking off her coat by herself and that she wouldn’t offend her mother by not accepting her help. 

“There is something for you, it came in the mail,” Sabine spoke with a slightly lilted accent that wasn’t the French Mari had grown up hearing. Her father had met her mother in Nanjing, China, and it had been love at first sight for the apprentice baker and seamstress’s daughter. Tom himself came out of the kitchen and leaned against one of the glass cabinets holding hundreds of beautifully made rolls, donuts, loaves and other baked goods as his wife gave their daughter a thick letter with a wax seal. 

“What’s this, Maman?” Pointing to the wax seal with a long finger, Mari looked at her mother with confusion. She’d gotten letters before, Grandmaman sent so many from her travels but she’d never gotten any letters with a large dollop of wax on them.

“That’s a wax seal, Marinette, the markings here,” Sabine ran her fingers over the Agreste family crest. “Are the crest of the Agreste family. I saw Gabriel Agreste extend an invitation to his son’s birthday to Ladybug and Chat Noir so I can only have the assumption that this is your very own invitation because you are a classmate of his son.”

“Open it, Mari,” Tom Dupain sounded more excited for his daughter to open the letter than Marinette herself was. She knew what it was but she’d thought she’d at least have a bit more time before telling her parents that she had a boyfriend. Mari knew that Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng could take things a bit far sometimes and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to subject poor Adrien to it just yet. “Maybe we’ve been asked to cater it?”

Sabine shot Tom a withering look that shut him up immediately, Marinette giggled at her parents before she carefully broke the wax seal and freed the note.

“Dear Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Gabriel Agreste would like to formally invite you to the 18th birthday celebration of his son, Adrien, at La Chateau du Agreste in Alsace. Dress in your finest and present this card at the door,” Marinette pulled a small card with beautiful calligraphy emblazoned across it, the thin outline of the words gilded in gold leaf. “So that we may address you properly. Accommodation will be provided for you and your parents at the Chateau itself. Adrien and I look forward to celebrating with you, sincerely, Gabriel Agreste.”

Deftly, Sabine plucked the card out of Marinette’s fingers with light fingers as Mari finished reading the letter out loud. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Adrien’s girlfriend?!” ~~~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~~ @lady-charinette @katieykat513 @mochegato @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @a-star-with-a-human-name @nifflerstorm @camelliaflwr @aussie-lesbian @beauty-and-her-books  DM to be added to the tag line!

[perfecttimemachinestranger]

The Visitor (FIC, M/F, T)

The Visitor

Summary: Grand Moff Tarkin suddenly wakes up on board an alien warship. What can the Chiss and their attractive Admiral possibly want from him?

Notes: I enjoy linguistics and it was a disappointment to me to find out how abysmal the Cheunh vocabulary is in canon. Thus, for the purposes of this story, I’ve relied on the fan-created Coruscant translator, found here: http://starwars.myrpg.org/coruscant_translator.php

Finally, my warm thanks to Cassandra1 for the beta work.

…ran’cuzo nah vav… nah bekavcim’i…

His sense of hearing returns before his eyesight. The incomprehensible gibberish his captors use for a language is mostly composed of mumbling and hisses, but the intonation sounds familiar. He guesses their origin even before hearing that one voice he recognizes. Thrawn. The blue devils. He is pleased to have been proven right regarding the so-called Grand Admiral’s loyalties.

As his senses and his strength slowly return, he bides his time. Let them think him helpless, weakened, vulnerable. He awaits the perfect moment.

Tarkin’s only thought as his fist connects with the traitor’s jaw is how sublime the sound is. The action itself is extremely satisfying. The pain catches up with him a few seconds later and although he knows, he is not prepared for it. It hurts now, much worse than he remembers from his younger years. Still, that pain is nothing in comparison with the anger that explodes in his head at Thrawn’s indifference. The blue bastard is just standing there, watching with mild interest as Tarkin nurses his bruised hand. It’s almost infuriating enough to rouse him into another attack.

He springs again and this time, the alien recoils.

Breakfast is served by the usual young male, but he is flanked by two guards with faces of stone – one male, one female. Thrawn doesn’t show up until after the next meal. The alien’s chin bears no evidence of fighting. His own hand is still sore.

“Allow me to welcome you on board the warship Cart’tusah, Governor.”

“You’ll understand if I don’t share your enthusiasm for my visit. What do I even call you now?” With the alien in the black uniform that is apparently his correct attire, Tarkin will no longer maintain the absurd pretence of them ever serving on the same side.

“My rank within the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet is undecided at present. I suggest you address me by my name.”

”Very well, Thrawn. This seems to be the moment where I ask to be taken to your leader. Whoever that is.”

“I will take you to her.”

The Chiss commander is a formidable woman. Stern-looking, tall, with a chiselled face to rival his own. She stares at him, just like they all do. For a while he just stands there, giving her the same treatment, but he cannot take it perpetually.

“What is the purpose of this?” He throws up his hands. “I do commend Thrawn here on his treachery – he succeeded in duping us all!”

She shows no sign of understanding his words, but she gives a nod, and Thrawn speaks.

“Curiosity.”

“What?”

“The purpose of your visit, governor Tarkin, is to satisfy curiosity. Admiral Ar’alani wishes to acquaint herself with a human.”

“And she has not come across any before? I remember the stories you told, about the first human visitors to your people. Not to mention your own entourage; you could have picked one of them.” He mutters. “As if there aren’t enough alien-loving fools around who’d have jumped at the opportunity to –“

“None of the others held her interest.”

“Is that what I am? A superior specimen?”

“She finds you intriguing. And very capable of what she has in mind.” There is no mistaking the suggestive glance, from both of them. Thrawn adds, lifting an elegant eyebrow, “Procreation is the acceptable term, I believe?”

“I guess I’m supposed to be flattered. No offense to you, madam, but I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

The notion that he has been abducted to serve as some sort of stud is ridiculous. It is so far-fetched that he should immediately dismiss it as a ruse to keep him away from the war. Or the Chiss indeed know nothing of human biology.

The admiral gives a soft hiss that Thrawn translates with a question. “Why?”

“Men of my age seldom sire children. The possibility is there, but no guarantee.”

“My apologies,” Thrawn hurries to say, instead of relaying the reply to his superior. “My previous translation was inaccurate. The admiral wishes to sleep with you for entertainment purposes. For pleasure,” he corrects himself.

“Do I look like some young stag willing to jump into bed at any opportunity?”

To his surprise, she doesn’t laugh as his reply is translated. Rather, her gaze becomes more intense, her mouth opening slightly. She appears almost excited.

His eyes widen at the low growl emanating from deep in her throat. If he has initially doubted her interest, there is no doing so now. He wonders for a moment what her hair would feel like to run between his fingers or grab in his fist. Reluctantly, he admits to wanting to hear her make that sound again.  

Thrawn’s translation is utter unnecessary. “The admiral values experience.”

“She does, now. Tell her I appreciate the offer, but no.” Flattering as it is, he has a war to fight. Did she honestly think the Grand Moff would gladly leave his duty for this?

“I have my duty to attend to,” he adds before the translation is complete. “A duty to my people, and its ruler.” This seems to catch her attention, and he adds for good measure: “I must do this before I can think of pleasure.”

“The admiral’s wish is above your orders,” Thrawn says. She considers your temporary removal a small sacrifice for your Empire in comparison with the gains received from my service.”

“Not an offer, but an order? It’s regrettable, but I don’t perform well under duress.” The lie crosses his lips casually enough, but it grates on him. “This is a common biological feature in humans, not a personal flaw,” he adds.

This time she smiles.

“You have been appointed as adviser to Admiral Ar’alani,” Thrawn states. “This is an honour and you will serve under her on board this vessel for the foreseeable future.”

“You must release me immediately!” He’s on the verge of blowing up again. “I’m not some disposable lieutenant. I have friends in high places. Kidnapping the Grand Moff, and at the height of our triumph! The Emperor needs me.”

“Perform well, and your friends will one day find you miraculously rescued.” She smiles briefly, then her expression hardens again. “Continue to disrupt the Ascendancy’s plans, and you will perish like your Empire already believes you have.” She gives a curt nod and a young girl of perhaps ten years comes forward to stand beside her.

This is too much. “Do you keep children onboard to gawk at strangers?”

The admiral hits him fast, hissing something harsh, making not only the child fade a fraction. Her strength is considerable.

“You will not insult the Ozyly-esehembo,” Thrawn offers mildly. “The girl is our navigator. You may thank her.”

“For what? Becoming your guest?” He spits it and sees the admiral’s hand twitch.

“For your life. She convinced the admiral to act at this precise moment, thereby preventing your premature demise.”

“I would be in perfect health without your intervention.”

“The Death Star is no more. I am sorry,” Thrawn says, bowing with that perfect deference that grates on his bones.  

He cannot be sorry. If indeed the Death Star has been blown out of existence – a catastrophe of too large a magnitude to imagine – Thrawn would be smiling with glee, as he surely has done behind Tarkin’s back, conspiring with his compatriots ever since the beginning. How has the Emperor not seen this?

He purses his lips. “If this is true, I gather the funding for your TIE Defender programme has just been secured. That is, if you intend to go back.” He doesn’t even try to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Governor, the destruction of the DS-1 is the deed of the rebels. The exiled remnant of the Alderaan cell.” There isn’t a hint of accusation in Thrawn’s calm voice. There needn’t be; they both know that the alien never approved of using the station’s power.

At night it hurts. Without his magnificent weapon to back it up, the Tarkin Doctrine, his legacy, is impotent, a shrivelled husk of the power it once was. Is this heavenly justice then? An almost-moon for a planet, all his colleagues, subordinates, his career blown to dust in revenge for an act too powerful for the very universe to tolerate?

He cannot thank the child.

Entertaining the admiral isn’t the chore he expected it to be, and he finds he has no difficulty at all performing. She is eager, responsive, and adventurous in ways that encourage him not only to bring his entire repertoire into play but to be inventive as well. With no language in common, they rely heavily on the fragments they do know. ‘Yes’ and ‘no’ go a long way. She talks a lot. After a while some words become familiar to him. She laughs when he repeats them to her.

Each time, afterwards, he asks her for permission to leave and she says no. It’s his first word in Cheunh and she says it so brutally. With time, he grows a little less interested in the answer. He keeps asking; this is their ritual.

He takes notes of everything on board – the instruments, the actions of the crew, the objectives of their journeys when she cares to share them with him. By day it’s all in his head; at night he scribbles. Until he realises. What she is showing him, all this knowledge, the Empire already has, in Thrawn. Is this what she is doing? Proving what her people has already given to his, with a reward in mind, or perhaps to eventually offer an alliance of some sort?

She shares his bed even when all she wants is to sleep. It is comforting, sleeping next to someone. Why did he never marry?

The black uniform is where he draws the line. It is of a dashing design; it is neither practicality nor looks that deter him from donning it.

One day in the mess hall he sees the girl again, the navigator with the title he can now identify as sky-walker. He is reminded of his immature behaviour towards her at their previous meeting and his need to change her impression of him. She is almost sacred and as an outsider he isn’t allowed to approach her, but he is lucky. She stares at him from afar, then comes to his side as he eats. It takes him a while to notice her presence; he only does so when the others lay their cutlery down to stare at her with polite interest.

She says nothing, but her small hand, as she lays it on top of his, feels like a jolt of power. It takes all his will not to snatch it back but let it rest on the table.

“Thank you,” he says. It comes out as barely a whisper, and he repeats it, over and over until she removes her hand and he feels like a fool. Whatever did he do that for? He turns away with a clenched jaw, then gazes up at her again. She looks back with a shy smile.

“I like you,” she says. “You’re funny.”

He smiles back – he cannot help it – then schools his features into a more dignified expression. The others have started eating again and thankfully, the episode is never mentioned.

That morning, Ar’alani is the one asking.

“Do you want to leave, Wilhuff?” Her pronunciation of his name is a little off, much like his entire vocabulary. He knows most of the officers’ names now, but much of the rest of it still sounds like hissing and mumbling if he doesn’t concentrate. He will never speak their language well. Only his r’s are perfection; this she told him already on their first night, even if he didn’t learn that until much later.

“I think so,” he replies, flabbergasted. “Yes, please.” His old life, his responsibilities, the power, the way they all depend on him and his word is law. Somehow, he’s already dismissed the possibility of that ever happening. His release. Suddenly he’s not so sure.

“Stay, Wilhuff,” she says. “You would be within your rights to retire, or you could become my adviser officially.”

He sighs. “No, Ar’alani. My duty and my loyalty must come first.” This is much harder to say than he ever thought it could be. Maybe there is a way back again, after the war, if he is released from service. Maybe there isn’t, and he must only be thankful for what was.

Four years. His time onboard the Chiss warship has felt like an eternity at times, yet there is always something new to learn. The vast expanses of space call to him much more than a desk, however elevated his position.  He should have expected his universe to change in that time, yet his belief in the Empire’s victory never wavered. The news delivered by the scout ship is a blow out of nowhere. “There is nothing,” Thrawn declares solemnly. “My condolences.”

“This must be some kind of mistake, of mis-navigation.”

“No. Your Emperor is dead. There is no successor.”

He has thought about it before. What to do in case the Empire he returns to is not the one he left. It mostly boils down to Sheev. To loyalty and honour. He has not considered a world where the Empire doesn’t exist.

“Turn around. Cso-sn’ah ses-vi-o’-ah.” He repeats it with excruciating thoroughness, but the crew understood the first time. “And bring the uniform.”

[chime-activate]

Where Can I Load My Chime Card? Add Money to a Chime Card

Chime online bank is one among many popular banks available in the US. The level of fastness and reliability presence in the money transfer services of Chime bank is commendable. More specifically, what a large number of people have liked about Chime is its debit card service. Yes, I am talking about Chime cards. Interestingly, as it happens through any bank's debit card, you also can withdraw money and make payment where Visa Debit card is acceptable as a payment method. But, before everything else, if you don't understand- how can you deposit cash into your Chime account, how can you expect to withdraw money through your Chime card. Frankly speaking, your first question must be- Where can I load my Chime Card?

Where Can I load my Chime card for free?

As I said in the beginning- simplicity lies in everything about Chime online. So, the process to add money to a Chime Card is also pretty simple. There are more than one ways to load your Chime card. For example, you can request money from your contacts who use Chime. Also, you can transfer money from your linked bank account to your Chime card. If these two options are not sufficient for you, worry not. There is one more unique but simple way to reload a Chime card.

Gladly, with the help of departmental stores, you can add cash to your Chime card with ease of mind. So, to help you understand all about the Chime card loading process at the store, I am going to walk you through some commonly asked questions and their quick answers. However, if you are not a great fan of reading or have any other issue, you can directly contact us for free guidance.

How much does it cost to add money to a Chime card?

You might have heard one quote a lot: nothing comes for free in this world. And most of the time this quote fits squarely. So, similarly, when it comes to adding funds to your Chime debit card at the store, a tiny fee might be applicable. However, whether you are a regular customer or not of that store is also a determining factor. In short, it is safe to assume that the store might charge you any amount from $1 to $4. Only the cashier available at the billing counter can let you know about the exact figure.

Can I add money to my Chime card at Walgreen?

How much does Walgreens charge to load a Chime card? This is only the question a large number of people asked me last week. Here is the answer. To the best of my knowledge, Walgreen stores might charge anything between $3 to $10. The fee largely depends upon the total amount that you want to be loaded on your Chime card. The bigger the amount you load, the higher would be the fee.

Now the question is how to put money on a Chime card? Let me explain the steps in points:

Visit any Walgreen store with your Chime card nearby you.

Contact either the associate or directly get in touch with the cashier.

Tell them that you want to add cash to your Chime card. They might ask your phone number to check whether you are a registered customer or not. According to the search results they will tell you the applicable fee for loading money.

Now handover your Chime card to them and tell them the amount.

Finally, with the help of the card reading machine, the cashier will add money to your card right away.

Can you put money to your Chime Card at Walmart store?

How much does it cost to load a Chime card at Walmart? You might have this question in your mind. Not an issue, if you want to reload your Chime card at Walmart, you can do so by paying a small fee up to $3.5. But, again don't forget what I have told you. If you are a regular customer of Walmart then don't hesitate from requesting a waiver. Walmart is a customer oriented departmental store, chances are high that they will accept your request.

These are the steps to follow to add money on a Chime card at Walmart store:

Search and navigate to any nearby Walmart store. Talk to the cashier or executive available at the store about adding cash to your card. Inform them about the total amount that you want to add and ask about the fee. Even if you are not a regular customer of Walmart, once request them for waiver of fee. If everything looks fine to you, proceed and give them your Chime card. In just a few seconds, the cashier will put money to your Chime card. Now you are all set to spend money with your Chime account and card.

How do I load money to my Chime card at an ATM?

You will not find much luck, if you are thinking of loading money to your chime card at an ATM. Do you know why? Because Chime does not support this feature as of now by writing this post February 2021. However, this service might be introduced in future, but at this point of time you have to get along with the available option.

As you can see, how simple it is to load money to a Chime card at a store. Now enjoy the freedom and spend money with your Chime debit card without feeling any shred of hesitation. Also, remember that you can transfer money from your bank account to your Chime account for free. And if you are running out of money, say hi to your friend and request money.

[oleanderburning]

Reconciliation of personae

For the longest time now, I’ve been trying to separate my work and off-time selves using different wigs, etc. to maintain a psychological border and prevent bleed-over, as well as to ensure that I don’t deal with people recognizing and harassing me, both online and in real life.

However.

I feel that I’ve reached the point that if someone were to truly stalk me, or even just intensely follow me online, they’d be able to recognize me based on my tattoos, anyway.  I think my key here is going to be staying off of non-work/personal social media in general.  That’s always been a wasteful time-suck for me, and people can get very ugly/passive-aggressive online, which I find disgusting and don’t care to take part in.  I don’t ever want to become that superficial and ugly, nor do I wish to distract myself from truly important life matters.  Having something up for contact reasons, but not posting, is a possibility in the distant future, when I need a way to stay in contact with non-famous friends who don’t fully get where I’m coming from, and haven’t yet come to resent and chafe under empty attention’s burdensome nag.  I don’t see myself getting too deeply involved with anyone I have to hide myself from to a huge extent, as-is.  I just don’t want to be stalked, if one of my already heavily-vetted friends betrays me (again) and doxxes me to my fans, hence keeping my personal information off the internet in general.

That said, I’m starting to feel as though my two persone are becoming too separated; I’d like to start channeling Ms. V off-screen sometimes, since she is still a useful part of me.  I plan to still cover my tattoos, as long as profit may be affected, but I might selectively show them over a black screen with dark hair in Feb.; I could use some of her assertiveness... and greater ease of presentation.  I’ll be using my real hair with extensions, soon, as well.  Blonde will still be the norm (profit) but some variation seems to enhance my profit and creativity as well.

Furthermore.  I don’t know if I will be doing sessions anytime soon, but with how COVID affected my IRL-session peers, I may want to exercise those muscles at least a bit, just to ensure I have a backup way of making a living, if the internet goes belly-up for whatever reason.  I’d definitely rather stick with online-only for work, because it feels safer and works hand-in-hand with my natural introversion, and it gives me more leverage to eventually ensure a monogamous future relationship- god knows, I find fetish lifestylers with 500 sexual partners to be utterly exhausting- but with the amount of people who would gladly saw off a limb to partner with me, me having that leverage is not exactly a matter of egregious concern.  I’d love for *** to be my chosen partner, but if he doesn’t choose to cooperate in terms of having his life at least somewhat in order, and not doing the “fetish lifestyle” poly nonsense, I should come to accept it for what it is.  A relationship should still be secondary to my ability to survive and thrive.

I could also make much more $ doing sessions IRL, but I don’t know whether that would be good or bad for my psychological health.  I could get away with doing VERY little for a LOT of money, given my rank and exposure, but I’m still anxious about socialization.  Obviously, I’m not some poor, ugly nobody who has to give handjobs and allow oral service just to scrape by, but I would still want to do everything I can to ensure VERY FIRM BOUNDARIES beyond just the bare minimum.  Nothing that I do for sessions can ever reach the point that I feel any intimate type of emotion.  I would also need security at all times.

I do want to invest more and retire faster, though, and I worry that my sadistic impulses might bleed over and result in my unconsciously hurting loved ones without some kind of constructive (paid/consensual) outlet.  There are things I feel a certain need for, that I could absolutely never do to a person I even remotely care about.  More on that last sentence later, it’s gonna get dark.

I will likely just give this a try on some locals during some refresher classes while I know I am 100% single, see how it all goes, and if it doesn’t work out long-term, at least I’ve gotten myself back in practice, to sequester that section of me away in case there’s a financial emergency.

BUT, to circle back to hair color, if I end up doing sessions IRL, I can’t have my Swiss bank execs and Saudi oil guys expecting blonde when they fly in from across the ocean, only to encounter me living my best goth life in the glorious US of A.  It’s false advertising.  So, having more of my “normal” self online would prime them for that and let them know what they’re in for, should I actually go somewhere with this.  Also... it gets warm as hell under all that.  I could film more if I weren’t so sweaty and make up for the lack of income with more content, soooooo it kind of works out regardless ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I won’t be journaling encounters, only psychological breakthroughs on my end.  More on sadistic impulses later.

[cirlex]

Fight Choreography and Writing Services

So a while ago, I made a Tumblr post about advertising my writing services to anyone who might need them. I decided to officially offer a new service: fight choreography. This might be of interest to any animators, fan film directors, or video game developers who want some snazzy fight scenes in their project. 

If you’re interested in any of my services, please read below. 

Link to my page

Services

* Short Story Commissions - I’ll write a short story for you! I also do fanfics!

* Editing and Proofreading - Need me to look over something for you? I’ll gladly do it!

* Video Game Writing - Lore writing, story writing, character design, etc

* Script Writing - Scripts and dialogue for animations or productions you’re working on! Although I fully admit that I’d be new at this. I’d be willing to try my hand at it if someone would have me!

* Fight Choreography [NEW] - For any video game developer, animator, or fan film director (or a regular film director, I just don't expect any of you guys to come looking for me), I am able to choreograph fight scenes, takedowns, or counter attacks for any project you may need. I have about five years of martial arts experience of Filipino martial arts (Kali/Penchak Silat), Thai Boxing, and JKD. I really want to build a portfolio of fight choreography, so if anyone is interested in having some neat fight scenes for any of their projects, please send me a message. Something to note though is that I have no 3D animation experience nor mocap gear whatsoever. I'll do my best to record myself with a partner (or find some other medium to get the information across to you).

* Other - Well…if none of the above fits what you’re looking for but you’re interested in doing business with me, I’d be willing to take a look.

Prices

* Short Story Commissions - I’ll be charging $5 for every five hundred words. I’ll knock two dollars off every two thousand words.

* Editing and proofreading - Proofreading won’t cost more than $3-$5 if it’s reasonably sized (as in, it isn’t a six-page paper). Editing, on the other hand, will cost $4 for a one/two-page story. I’ll add $4 per page after that (three or more pages).

* Video Game Writing - If you wish to hire me to write for a game you’re working on, you’d need to message me so we can negotiate. I will most likely NOT be accepting revenue share unless the game is near completion.

* Script Writing - See above.

* Fight Choreography - Due to the nature of the services, I'm probably going to be charging a bit more than a short story commission depending on how much you wish for me to do for you. Please send me a message on Tumblr so we can negotiate a reasonable cost.

* Other - Send me a private message and we’ll negotiate.

Payment Details

I take payment via PayPal primarily. I may also be willing to take payment via gift cards but PayPal is what I’d prefer.

[worksofphiction]

prompt; dnp are on vacation in some remote mountain area etc when dan gets a sharp pain in his side, phil has driving related PTSD but thinks he can pull through for dan and drives quickly to the hospital thats far away nervous,anxious and in an adrenaline rush. Turns out it was something minor and dan is given some pain medication etc so when his worryabout d is gone phil basically has a panic attack and passes out. dan freaks out but learns later what happened (angst hurt/comfort fluff?)

Vacations, Hypochondriacs and a Little Bit of PTSD

Read on Ao3!

Summary: Neither Dan or Phil saw this weekend as one to worry about. Dan was a great driver, even though he never really got a chance to show it, and when he asked their good friend Cat to borrow her car for a few days after Vidcon, of course, she trusted him with the keys.Genre: Fluff, Little bit o’AngstWord Count: 5,008Reading Time: 00:18:46Disclaimer: Characters are works of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended. I do not own Dan or Phil and as far as I know, this never happened.

Three things that should never go together are vacations, hypochondriacs and a little bit of PTSD.

Neither Dan or Phil saw this weekend as one to worry about. Dan was a great driver, even though he never really got a chance to show it, and when he asked their good friend Cat to borrow her car for a few days after Vidcon, of course, she trusted him with the keys. They figured that while they were in America, they could drive to some log cabin in the woods and have an overdue romantic getaway. The type they couldn’t get in the UK. Not authentically, anyway. The last time they were in America, they resided in Florida and although the beaches were nice, they were craving a little alone time in the woods. You know, the kind of alone time that landed them miles away from civilization.

After only a few minutes of searching online, they stumbled upon a quiet resort that fit all of their needs. It was at least 30 miles away from anything close to a city and the cabin they selected overlooked a lake. Dan nearly jumped with joy when he found out that he might be able to take some super aesthetic photos while relaxing by the water. And Phil, the master photographer he was, could snap a photo of Dan looking on fleek as he napped on the dock.

The most appealing part of this trip was that they would be completely isolated from the crazy Vidcon fans and other possible overlookers. That meant that Dan and Phil could fuck outside if they really wanted to and nobody would see them. Dan took a mental note and smirked when Phil told him they had a hammock in the backyard. This trip was certainly going to be worth it.

The morning they left Vidcon was a tough one. The tricky thing about living overseas is that you never get to see your American friends. When Dan and Phil were finally able to relax on that last night, their friends threw the usual afterparty at some rando’s place, and naturally, Dan and Phil hadto attend. Neither expected to get sloshed but when people are shoving drinks in your hand left and right, it’s hard not to accept. Phil managed to stay on top of his drink count but Dan was gone after number 5. He took shots with Tyler Oakley, managed to chug a beer with Mamrie Hart and definitely ate some sort of gummy bear that wasn’t a gummy bear with Connor Franta. He had a blast and as usual, Phil had to drag him home and put him to bed after a total of probably 16 drinks. Phil never minded doing this. He always told Dan that he was lucky “he’s a cute drunk.” But really, Phil loved every part of Dan. Even the Dan that was petting Phil’s nose on the taxi ride home, insisting that Phil looked prettier than any girl at that party. Phil just laughed and rolled him into bed after stripping them both down.

“You know we have to get up early, My Dear,” Phil said softly, helping the boy find a comfortable spot in his arms. Dan rolled his eyes and licked his lips, looking up at Phil with a drunken stare.

“I know. If I’m lucky, you’ll drive for me so I can go back to sleep,” Dan joked. Phil laughed a little but he didn’t respond. Phil wasn’t really a driver. He just barely passed the driver’s test back in secondary school and he hadn’t been behind the wheel since he kind of sort of crashed his dad’s car. It was an accident but Phil swore to never drive if he didn’t have to. He had almost killed himself and he was terrified of putting himself or the love of his life in danger like that. Dan had agreed days ago that he would do the three-hour drive to the resort so that Phil wouldn’t have to worry about it. Dan liked driving, or so he said, and because he never got to do it, he happily volunteered. Phil cleared his throat and shook his head. Dan was drunk. He would just clarify in the morning. There was no need to worry about it.

Packing their suitcases went slowly after getting themselves up that morning. Dan wore his sunglasses as he insisted that the window light was too bright. Even after Phil closed the blinds.

“Hey, pass me the keys. I’ll go pack the car,” Dan said, his voice nearly a whisper. He looked like he regretted his drink choices from the night before. Phil knew he wasn’t saying anything because he knew Phil would make fun of him. Phil pushed his worries about Dan aside and hesitated before tossing the boy the keychain. “I think we can do it in one trip, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Phil glanced around the hotel room, noticing that once everything was packed, they really only had a few things.

“I’ll go start the car. We better get a move on. I want to be in the woods already.” Dan turned and left the room slowly, wincing as the door let out a high pitched squeak. But when he stepped out and the door closed behind him, Phil let out a sigh of relief. Dan would start the car, Dan would drive, and Phil wouldn’t kill them both.

He mozied his way down to the car, which Dan had kindly brought up to the front of the building. Phil had just given their room keys to the front desk and he was ready to get going. He opened the door to the passenger seat and noticed that Dan looked a lot happier. Maybe he was still hungover, but it seemed that he felt better to be behind the wheel.

“Come on, Slow Poke! The mountains are calling us!” Dan exclaimed, his hand nearly hitting the horn as he slammed it on the wheel. Phil just rolled his eyes and fastened his seat belt as he turned to Dan.

“Are you sure about this? You haven’t driven in a while, are you gonna-”

“Oh, hush. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how to drive,” Dan said confidently as he took the car from park and began inching forward in the line of cars up front. “Put on some tunes, would ya? Cat said the Aux chord is in this thingy.”

Dan gestured to the glove compartment near Phil’s knees and he leaned forward to fish the black chord out. He plugged it into the little hole it belonged to and queued up some Muse for the long drive.

-

They arrived at their resort halfway through a Kanye album and Phil was secretly thanking the universe for ending it so early. He loved that Dan loved Kanye, but it wasn’t his favorite. He had promised Dan that he would stay awake the whole drive and he did, but nothing made him want to pass out more than an entire album of Kanye West.

“Oh my God!” Dan parked the car and immediately leaped out, looking at the adorable little two person cabin that sat before them. The drive to this place was gravel roads for two miles and this was the only house in sight. It was amazing. The woods were thick and the lake was beautiful. Phil’s intention was to admire the beautiful view, but instead, he admired his boyfriend’s look of wonder as he took in the sight of their home for two days. “Phil, this is exactly what I wanted!”

“Well, that’s good. Because if it wasn’t, we’d be here enjoying exactly what you didn’t want,” he said snarkily. It was only after Dan flashed him a look that Phil realized he hadn’t actually kissed his boyfriend that morning. He checked his phone for the time and he noticed that there was very little service in their area. It was still before 12:00, so he could still get his good morning kiss. He waddled over to Dan with his suitcase in hand, dropping it for the surprised boy in front of him. “It looks like the service here is some crap. I guess we’ll have to find something better to do with our time than scroll through memes, huh?”

Phil was teasing and Dan loved it but of course, he acted offended, shoving Phil a little, only to get grabbed even tighter. Phil pressed his lips to Dan and his defenses fell, kissing Phil back with the passion he craved.

They lost track of time as they kissed in the driveway and it was only when Dan sneezed that they remembered where they were.

“How about we give ourselves the grand tour?” Phil offered his hand to Dan who took it gladly and they dragged their suitcases inside the home.

-

After a little bit of lounging and a little bit of hammock sex, they were sitting on the dock watching the sunset and dipping their feet into the water below. Their long legs were the perfect length for their toes to reach and they felt like they were sitting in a romance movie. Phil almost said something when Dan interrupted his cheesy thought with a wince.

“Dan, are you okay?” Phil’s voice raised an octave as he turned immediately to the boy who wore a sour expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Dan clutched his side and whimpered a little, face planting into Phil’s shoulder.

“Dan!” Phil squeaked, his heart rate increasing tenfold. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

“My-ow…” Dan struggled with his words. “My side. It really fucking-”

His own pain cut off his sentence, but that was enough for Phil. His inner hypochondriac was suddenly screaming at him and he was in no position to wait it out. Phil stood up and grabbed Dan’s shoulders, pulling him up too.

“How much does it hurt? 1-10?” Phil asked, his voice rushed and his hand beginning to shake.

“Like uh…uh…” Dan clutched his side and whimpered. “Like a 9.”

“Jesus, Dan! What did you do?”

“I don’t know!?” Dan shot back, clearly unable to focus on anything but the sharp pain in his side. Phil swallowed a lump in his throat that arrived with the feeling that this was going to end badly. He tried his hardest to remember everything they had done that day. Aside from their frolicking in the hammock, they had done nothing strenuous. But his brain was shutting down and he couldn’t focus on anything but his need to help Dan. “I need…I need to get to the…ow!”

Phil knew what Dan was asking. And he knew that Dan was serious. Dan’s pain tolerance was pretty high. Phil knew this first hand. He had spent nearly nine years with this man and there had only been a few moments where Dan insisted on getting Emergency Care. Hell, the boy had nearly blinded himself before their flight to Australia and they got on the fucking plane anyway. Dan needed to be seen and he needed to be seen now.

Phil cursed under is breath, trying to make a plan. He hobbled Dan as fast as he could back to their cabin and placed him gently on the couch where he curled up and whimpered. He clutched his side and tried his hardest to hold in tears, unsuccessfully wiping the rogue ones from his cheeks. Phil didn’t want to look at him because seeing his boyfriend in pain was one of his worst nightmares, but he didn’t want to look away because the second he did, something could happen. Phil wouldn’t be having that.

He fumbled for his phone with one hand as he rubbed circles into Dan’s back, attempting to call 999, but when his service bars blinked at him signaling there was no cell reception, his brain told him that instead of a romance movie, this was now a horror film.

“Dan…there’s no…there’s no reception! I can’t call an ambulance.” Phil’s voice shook as he tried to stay calm. What a fucking nightmare. “I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

Dan winced when he heard that there was no chance of an ambulance. He raised his one arm and pointed at the table.

“Keys. There. You gotta-” His voice was coming out in breaths and Phil’s entire face went pale when he realized what Dan was asking.

Phil was going to have to drive about 35 miles to the nearest Urgent Care.

There was no fucking way.

“Dan…I can’t…I don’t know if I can…” Phil stumbled, his hands shaking more now. He couldn’t even picture what it would be like to try to drive in this condition. “I can’t drive you. I can’t.”

Dan shifted on the couch so that his tear filled eyes were looking up at Phil.

“Phil…you can.” He winced and took a few deep breaths. “Please. You gotta calm down and you gotta drive me. I really…ow…I really need to-”

He was cut off by a whimper and Phil got to his feet.

Fuck it.

He dived for the keys and helped his boyfriend up, crutching him over to the car. He gently placed him in the backseat where he could lay down across the seats. He slammed the car door shut and he threw himself into the driver’s seat. After starting the car (the easy part), he stilled. He could feel the car vibrating below him and his boyfriend whimpering in the back.

Driving couldn’t be that bad.

He did it in his teen years. Now he was a whole person. He could certainly do it now.

He took a deep breath and swallowed his fear. For Dan Howell.

He pulled the car into reverse and backed out slowly.

Not too bad.

He pushed the car into drive and took it slow. His hands gripped the wheel with more strength than he ever thought he possessed. He stared forward at the gravel road in front of him, cursing the car for only being able to move at a certain speed over these rocks. He wished he could teleport now more than ever, his boyfriend groaning after every little bump.

The hardest part about driving in America was that everything was flipped. He couldn’t focus when all he could think about was how in England, the driver’s seat was on the other side. That and his crying boyfriend in the back. How the hell had Dan driven all this way when everything was backwards? There was just no way.

Phil swore that he blacked out during the drive because soon they were pulling into the hospital parking lot and Phil had managed to safely get the car into a slot.

“Ph-Phil….please, help me get…ow…inside,” Dan whimpered, his hand clutching his side and his eyes nearly closed. If Phil wasn’t in a panicked state, he might admire the way Dan’s lashes fell on his cheeks when he cried. Dan Howell was beautiful, apparently, even when he was in the most pain he’d been in for a while.

Phil did as his boyfriend told him, guiding him into the building and handing him off to a nurse.

That’s when he realized he was in America. The nurse thanked him for bringing him in, but when she walked into the double doors with Dan settled in a wheelchair, she turned and told him to stay put. The two were not married and they weren’t blood-related, so Phil collapsed into a waiting room chair, letting out a breath that he didn’t remember he had been holding.

So much for a couple of romantic days in the woods.

Phil suddenly felt very cold in the face, his arms starting to tingle and his eyes grasping for something to look at. Sadly, he could only stare at the wall ahead of him, black fuzzy edges closing in on the speck he had locked onto. After trying to fight it, he realized it was too much and he let his eyes close and his world pause for a moment.

-

He was being gently nudged awake by a nurse when he finally opened his eyes again. It had felt like an eternity but apparently, it had only been about 40 minutes. The nurse led him back to his beloved who was sitting on a hospital bed, now happily sipping some cranberry juice from a box. His troubles seemed to be solved and his face was no longer scrunched up and wet from his tears.

“Philly!” Dan greeted, his chipper tone almost irritating after everything that had happened before Phil passed out.

“Hi, Love.” His voice was tragically hoarse, stress doing that to him sometimes. Phil walked over to his bedside and greeted the brunette with a kiss, pushing his hair back and placing his lips to his forehead for an extended period of time. The nurse looked a little taken aback and Phil cursed the world for assuming straightness. But that wasn’t a concern right now. Dan was alright and smiling, they had made it to the hospital in one piece and hopefully, the problem was solved for good. “What happened?”

Dan glanced at the nurse who nodded and opened her mouth.

“Well, after talking to Mr. Howell, we found out that he had done a little bit of drinking last night. It seems that without drinking much water, his liver was taking a while to process the alcohol intake. Mr. Howell just needed a few fluids and some time to let it pass. He will be perfectly fine,” She explained, glancing in Dan’s direction. “You should lay off of the alcohol for a few weeks, alright? I assume you don’t do this often?”

Dan shook his head, clearly a tad ashamed that he had taken such poor care of his body that night. Phil also cursed himself inside because he wasn’t keeping a close enough eye on the boy he cared about more than himself.

“So can he come home then?” Phil asked, smiling sympathetically at the boy who was smiling back at him with the smuggest of looks. Phil wished Dan could have seen how difficult it was for Phil to get behind the wheel. He honestly didn’t want to think about it though, so he just looked back at the doctor for his answer.

“Yes, he’s all set. We pumped him with fluids and he should be fine. Just take it easy,” she responded, writing something on the clipboard hanging on the bed. “I’m also prescribing these painkillers that should work beautifully. Make sure you take them every four hours.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Dan saluted, slurping the last of the cranberry juice and crushing the box in his giant hands. Phil helped Dan up and wrapped an arm around his waist for security (both for himself and for Dan), then grabbed the bag of medicine from the nurse’s hands.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Phil said, leading the boy out of the room. He seemed to be walking fine but Phil didn’t want to let go. The closer they got to the parking lot, the more from his drive he remembered.

“Phil, faster! Please! I’m…ow!!” Dan groaned from the backseat, Phil’s knuckles going white. He was navigating them through a forest that seemed to wind every twelve seconds. He hesitantly pressed on the gas pedal and the engine reved, startling him and making him swerve. “Are we almost there?”

“I’m trying, Dan. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he apologized, trying to keep his voice steady. The last thing he wanted was for Dan to think Phil wasn’t going to get him there safely. He wanted so badly to be capable but his heart was beating faster than it ever had.

“Ffffuuuuck,” Dan moaned, his voice cracking and Phil’s stomach dropping. He pushed a little harder on the pedal and held his breath as he took a tight curve. They made it, but the rumble strips screamed at him as he swerved a little.

“Phil! Phil?!” Dan waved his hand in front of his face and Phil was ripped from his terrifying memory. They were now standing next to the car they arrived in and Dan was frowning again. No, Dan. Don’t frown, Phil thought. He just wanted to see him happy. Laughing like this hadn’t happened. Like Phil hadn’t had to drive a multiple pound death machines 35 miles to save his boyfriend. “Phil, are you okay? You look like you just saw a-”

Before Dan could even finish his statement, Phil was falling backward and thank God for Dan because his head didn’t hit the concrete. Instead, Dan’s arms grabbed him and pulled him into his own self, Phil collapsing once more into the terrifying and cold darkness that was his unconscious mind.

-

“Phil!” Dan was kissing his cheek over and over again when Phil reawoke. This time, it didn’t feel like forever. Instead, it felt like only a blink. He couldn’t have been out for long. “Oh thank GOD!”

Dan grabbed him and wrapped his arms around Phil’s nearly shaking body as he kissed the top of his head.

“I was so worried we’d have to go back in there!” Dan joked. “That nurse was giving me shifty eyes.”

Phil usually would hit his boyfriend lightly on the arm for that joke, but Phil just gave a half smile to show his appreciation, only to then turn his face into Dan’s sleeve.

“What the hell was that, Phil? You scared the shit out of me,” Dan admitted, now fully concerned about Phil’s little fainting spell and not his own humor.

“I…I…I’m just tired,” Phil says, suddenly realizing that if he tells Dan what happened, Dan would feel bad. Even though it wasn’t technically his fault to begin with, he would feel bad that he was the cause of Phil’s little panic attack. They had spoken briefly about why Phil didn’t drive, but Phil always just said that it was because he wasn’t good at it or he “couldn’t drive in a straight line.” He never once mentioned the accident he got into and he never really figured he’d have to.

But now, as they sat in the parking lot at the American hospital, he looked into Dan’s eyes and shook his head.

“A lot happened. I’m sorry. Can we just go home?” Phil requested, his heartbeat returning slowly to the normal speed.

Dan looked at him with skeptical eyes, like he didn’t believe Phil at first, but as any good boyfriend would, he figured Phil wouldn’t lie to him and got off the ground to help him up.

“Sure thing. I’ll drive,” Dan said, grabbing the keys from Phil’s pant pocket.

“Are you sure?” Phil asked, smacking himself inside for even suggesting another option. But Dan always came first and he supposed that was the right thing to do. Luckily, Dan nodded and hopped into the driver’s side before they could even talk about it.

The drive back was silent and Phil felt bad. The guilt was eating at him. He should have told Dan. He knew it was wrong of him to pretend everything was alright. Dan wouldn’t judge him and it would probably prevent things like this happening all over again. Next time they’d be more prepared, just in case. He watched the trees go by as a passenger and decided he would tell Dan tonight once they settled in their master bedroom for the night.

-

Teeth were brushed, clothes were shed, a little bit of kissing ensued before Phil was holding Dan still on his chest, tracing little curlycues on his bare shoulder. Dan hummed quietly as they listened to the crickets out the wooden window, soothing both of their minds.

Phil didn’t want to break the silence but without this conversation, Phil’s guilt would eat him alive so he opened his mouth and took a deep breath. Dan seemed to sense he was going to speak, so big brown eyes met blue as he took Dan’s hand.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Phil started, hoping that would take the pressure off the bomb he was about to drop.

“Me too,” Dan admitted, as a smile stretched his cheeks. “Next time you gotta stop me when Tyler drags me anywhere. Tell him I’m allergic to hair dye or something.”

Phil chuckled.

“Okay. Can do.” Phil liked Dan’s humor. It was as if Dan was already trying to make Phil feel better, even though he didn’t know he was feeling off in the first place.

“Thanks for driving today. You honestly saved my ass,” Dan said, genuinely. Phil almost winced but he shut his eyes and nodded.

“Of course.”

“I know you don’t drive often…” Dan started, playing with Phil’s little tuft of chest hair.

“Yeah…” Phil sighed. “About that…”

Dan was silent. He focused on his finger and its movement beneath Phil’s neck.

“I should tell you why I don’t drive.”

“I know why you can’t drive,” Dan huffed, his smile spreading. “Cuz you can’t go in a straight line. Anyone who plays Mario Kart with you would know that, you Spoon.”

Phil laughed gently and ran a hand through Dan’s hair.

“That’s true,” he admitted, not trying to claim he was any good at Mario Kart. He was lucky he even won a handful of times. Especially against Dan Howell. “But there’s another reason.”

Dan looked intrigued now, his brown eyes sparkling more than usual. Maybe it was the subtle moonlight in their perfect little cabin, or maybe Dan Howell was just that perfect.

“When I was a teenager…” Phil swallowed the lump in his throat. Only his family knew about this and even then, it was only his Dad who knew exactly what happened. He didn’t ever talk about it and thinking about it made him shake. Dan needed to know, but Phil was reluctant. He paced himself and continued. “I borrowed my dad’s car to go to the shop. It was for something stupid, I don’t even remember what it was, and I had had my license for a week. My dad handed me the keys and told me that I was finally old enough to run errands for him, just like Martyn did at my age. I was so proud that I could be just like my older brother before he left for Uni, that I practically skipped to the car and started it up.”

Dan’s eyebrows were furrowed and Phil could tell he was confused as to where this was going. But Phil continued because he wasn’t going to stop now that he had begun.

“I was only 6 miles away from home when I saw a rabbit cross the road in front of me. And I had remembered my driving instructor telling me that I should never swerve for an animal unless it was a moose, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t run over the rabbit…” Phil gulped, shaming himself for loving all of Earth’s creatures. “So I swerved, right off the road and into a line of trees. My dashboard cracked and there was glass everywhere. Thank God I wasn’t hurt, nothing but a couple of scrapes, but my dad’s car was a wreck and the insurance people told me I was lucky I hadn’t died…”

Dan’s eyes had shifted from confusion to shock.

“Oh my God…” He blinked a few times. “How have I never heard this story?”

“I don’t really like to talk about it…” Phil admitted. “That was the scariest day of my life. I nearly killed myself, Dan.”

Phil didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not on vacation in this sweet little cabin. He was happy.

But that didn’t stop the tear from rolling down his cheek when he pictured his father’s disappointed face. His parents weren’t mad, but they never asked him to drive to the store again - not that Phil really wanted to anyway.

“I just really don’t like driving…” Phil said, his voice practically disappearing into his throat as they came out. Dan looked about ready to cry as well, reaching up and wiping a tear from Phil’s cheek as one threatened to roll down his.

“I’m so sorry you had to do that today,” Dan whispered, the guilt settling in. Phil knew that face when he saw it. Especially on Dan’s gorgeous features.

“It’s okay. Just…” Phil sighed. “No more driving.”

“No more driving,” Dan confirmed, his hand reaching up to pet Phil’s damp cheek. “I’ll drive us back tomorrow night and we’ll pretend none of this happened, alright?”

Phil nodded a little, settling himself into a comfortable position, wrapped in Dan’s arms and legs.

“I love you, Dan,” Phil said softly, his heartbeat thumping where Dan could hear it on his chest.

“I love you too, Philly.” Dan’s sleepy voice always gave Phil the chills, his arms involuntarily tightening around his boyfriend. “I’m so proud of you.”

Phil hadn’t expected to hear that.

“You saved me today, Phil. Thank you.” Dan said as he was falling into a half-sleep state. Phil smiled. It was nice to know that Dan thought these things, even when he wasn’t even paying attention. It didn’t matter that Dan had drunken a little too much or that he had messed with his liver’s chemistry. It didn’t matter that he would have been just fine with a little water in his system. It didn’t matter that Dan’s problem wasn’t even technically an emergency. Dan still claimed that he had saved him, and that was what Phil lived for.

Maybe it was because he was afraid to cause any creature harm, but he would do anything for Dan Howell. Even if that meant confronting his biggest fear. He closed his eyes and listened to his perfectly healthy boyfriend as he drifted off to sleep, thanking the universe that he had saved another creature and lived to tell the tale.

[milfplay]

Cheating Cougars Review: They Cheat You, Quite Possibly!

I’m a fan of cougars and if you didn’t pick up on that, then I’m sorry but what else would you expect? The Cheating Cougars website is one that I recently came across and I can confidently say that it’s not one you want to mess with. Do you like spending time with mature women on the prowl? If you tell me no, then I know for sure that you’re 100% lying to me. Every guy fantasizes about banging cougars like Stifler’s mom.

We all do! That said, there are sites out there that cater to people searching for these types of women. This one does just that but not in a good way. Here’s what you need to know about the site and everything that it stands for.

My CheatingCougars.com Review

There’s no telling how many times a man has sat back and fantasized about banging a hot, undersexed cougar. It’s part of our natural make up. This poor woman isn’t getting what she needs in the dick department at home.

You, being the altruistic, young stud that you are, pledge your throbbing junk to her never-ending service. You’re doing God’s work, really, you are. The problem is that this passion for older pussy gives the internet itself a scam boner. Sites like Cheating Cougars pop up all of the time to separate you from your money. You go into it thinking it’s all about docking your wang into cougar Jane, but it’s all fake. Here’s how it always goes:

You get immediate attention

The first thing you do is make a free profile. It’s what everyone does. Maybe you’re skeptical or maybe you’re so high on married poontang that you don’t give it a second thought. These women need your dick, dammit! What you’re going to notice is that you’re not entering any real information.

You’re giving them an email address and telling them you like chicks. That’s pretty much it. Oh, and entering your birth date, obvious. Never trust a penis over forty. Anyway, you haven’t even uploaded a picture when you start getting a ton of messages. They keep flooding in and you start imagining your love juice covering all of these sexy ladies. The problem is that you can’t respond to them. Ah, son of a bitch!

The scam

This is where you’re getting scammed. You can’t respond unless you upgrade your account. Once you do that, you’re going to see the messages stop. Even if you send out your messages, you’re never going to hear back from anyone.

It’s like all of these cougars suddenly retired from the world of cheating on their husbands. How could that possibly be? Well, to get your answer, you should have read the terms of service. You would have seen that the site is populated with “online cupids.”

Online Cupids

What’s an online cupid? Well, sir, an online cupid is a bot. It’s a profile created by Cheating Cougars. It’s designed to send you messages when you sign up. It doesn’t matter what you say about yourself or how much you fill out your profile. All new, free members are going to be getting messages from them. The profile pictures you see have all been taken from other sites. After you get enough messages, you can’t help but upgrade your account to respond to them.

It’s natural human curiosity mixed with a genuine need to help out women that can’t get by without a good dicking. It’s all thought out and planned by the site. They create a need to give them money, then let you do it. It’s that simple. The site is nothing more than a scam and should be ignored by anyone who values their money and time. There are plenty of real cougars out there who would gladly accept your erection into their lives.

Conclusion: Avoid The Cheating Cougars Site

This website isn’t going to help you win the milf dating game. I’m convinced that they’re simply out for your money and nothing more. That said, it’s in your best interest to step up your game and use the Milfplay site instead of Cheating Cougars because it actually works. Don’t waste your time with the nonsense at Cheatingcougars.com. Trust me, the juice isn’t worth the squeeze.

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