#it exudes the perfect amount of arrogance

[addamvelaryon]

The Mice & The Snakes

Artist: cerasusarbour

[authorscurse]

hi!! I've seen your work on pjo and was wondering if I could request a Percy jackson x reader? Where the reader is Will Solace's twin, but unlike Will, who Apollo Described to have inherited all of his best qualities, the Reader, however, inherited the "worst"?

[P.J. Masterlist] | [M. Masterlist]

Warning: usage of y/n, Apollo is a bad dad

Pairing: reader x Percy Jackson

W.C: 2k

Note: I'm planning on making my Percy Jackson tag list! Comment if you want to be part of it! Also if you want to be part of my overall taglist!

[Requests]

Synopsis: Apollo!Reader finds solace with friends after her father's hurtful favouritism.

I stare blankly at the breathtaking scenery of the beach. The sky is painted a vivid blue with fluffy white clouds adding ethereal decorations. The sun shone brightly, radiating warmth and light to all it touched. But no matter how much scorching heat and comforting radiance the sun exuded, I felt only the bone-chilling temperature from the bitter winter.

I exhaled and watched the puff of smoke become visible in the frosty winter air. The sun gave no aid to remove the biting cold I felt, inside and out. I'm freezing, I'm numb, and no amount of heat could dispel the paralyzing chill that gripped my heart.

"It's freezing out here," I was startled to hear Percy's voice. I turned and saw him in a cozy sweater, his hands tucked into his pockets, shielding them from the bitter cold. "Go back to your cabin, Jackson," I looked back at the mesmerizing scenery before him. I didn't hear a sound from him, and I thought he had returned to his cabin, but I was extremely wrong when I felt him sit down beside me.

"You should be in your cabin getting some warmth, sunshine." There it was, that affectionate nickname he had given me ever since we first met. I wasn't claimed when we both met for the initial time, but he called me sunshine, and even after I was claimed, the endearing moniker still followed me around. "Are you alright? I heard about what happened," Percy says, concern evident in his voice. I heard him sigh when I ignored him and continued to watch the waves crash onto the shore.

The memory of what transpired this morning kept replaying in my mind, and no matter how much I tried to forget it, I couldn't. Because it's impossible to erase that your own father shattered your heart even before any man could.

Me and Will were twins, we looked alike but not the same in terms of interests and personality. He was calm, and I was like a ticking time bomb. He's seen as humble, while I'm perceived to be arrogant. His likes were different from mine, and the same with our dislikes. Twins but exactly opposite from each other. Other campers thought I was Ares's child until they found out I was Will's twin sister. I guess that's why my father favoured Will all the time.

"Why can't you be like your brother?" Apollo asks in a booming voice that makes me flinch. "Why are you such a disgrace!" It sounded like a question, but it isn't. He meant it to be a declaration. That I am a disgrace. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I did not let them. The last thing I want to do is to cry in front of my father.

He continued to stare at me with so much loathing and contempt in his eyes. He didn't have to say it in words. I saw it, felt it. He despised me. Every single part of me, he hated it. At that moment, I realized that I would never be his perfect little Will. No matter how much I tried to make him proud, it would be useless because I would always be last to Will. I will always be his least favourite daughter.

"Will inherited all my best qualities, and you, inherited all the worst," He said with venom in his words. I looked down and closed my eyes when he turned into light and disappeared. Will entered the cabin seconds later and was shocked to see me alone with tears behind my eyes.

He opened his mouth to ask me what happened, but I darted out the door before he could even let out a single word.

I didn't even realize I was crying until Percy wrapped his arms around me and ran his fingers through my hair to calm me down. "It's going to be alright," He whispered gently in my ear. I cried my heart out into his chest. I allowed all the tears I've been hiding to flow down. I felt guilty for soaking Percy's sweater with my tears, but he did encourage me to continue until I no longer had any tears to give.

It lasted for almost 20 minutes. 20 minutes of my sobs and gasps for air, and Percy stayed the whole 20 minutes, whispering sweet encouragements and soothing words into my ear. As the last few tears I had finally dried, I gently removed myself from Percy's embrace.

He stared at me with his mesmerizing sea-coloured eyes that were filled with so much concern. I took a few deep breaths to calm me down, and when I finally did, I gave him a soft smile. He smiles back at me and places a tender kiss on my forehead.

I gaze off into the distance, admiring the captivating view of the ocean and the sky. Percy continued to draw delicate circles with his fingertips on my bare skin. I release a breath and allow my eyes to close and, for once, relax.

I rest my head on Percy's shoulder and continue to keep my eyes closed. Percy whispered sweet nothings in my ear. I block out every bad memory and thought that entered my mind and focused on Percy's soothing words.

"We should get out of here, you'll get sick my love," Percy whispered. He helped me stand up from the sand and held my hand as we both walked back to the Apollo cabin.

"Are you feeling better now? You can stay with me at my cabin, love. I don't mind," Said Percy. I gave him a soft smile and shook my head before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. A soft pink tint on his cheeks was evident.

"I'll see you during dinner, Perc," I wave him goodbye and walked inside the cabin. I was immediately engulfed in a warm hug by 3 of my siblings, the 4 of us falling down on the floor.

"Off! Off! I wave the white flag!" I gasp, and all 3 of them got off and laid down on the floor beside me. "Oh, I think I just had a concussion," I say, holding my chest. "You're overreacting, Twinnie," Will said, and I gave him a playful smack to the arm.

"We heard what happened, sis," Kayla says, and I let out another sigh as I was reminded of the painful memory.

"We think you're the best, Y/n. You're the better twin," Austin joked. "I'm hurt, Austin," Will pretended to cry on my shoulder, which I shoved him away, laughing at his antics.

"We love you, Y/n," Austin, Kayla, and Will said in unison. I smiled and felt myself tear up from their heartfelt words. "Awwww, are you going to cry?" Will asked teasingly. "I never thought you were a crybaby, Y/n," Austin joked. Both of them earned a playful slap from me.

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and smiles. The awful memory from this morning had already slipped my mind. My mind now filled with more happy and better memories created with my siblings. I couldn't ask for more.

[adndmonsteraday]

Sibriexes (pronounced: /ˈsɪbriɛks/ SIB-ree-ex) were warped obyrith demons capable of manipulating flesh by grafting Abyssal matter into it. They had spawned several breeds of the proliferous tanar'ri through their unholy experiments and continued to modify and mutate after the ascent of their creations.

“A breeder of horrors and a hoarder of secrets, a sibriex is said to be as old as the Abyss.” — The Cartographer

Sibriexes were bloated, 15 ft (4.6 m) tall demons that were little more than 1,500 lb (680 kg), deformed heads. The reek of rotten vegetation hung off their misshapen bodies and they constantly exuded streams of blood and bile, polluting the ground and causing plants to wither wherever they went. Their faces were the size of wagons, with shriveled arms ending in trembling digits where their ears would be. In place of a neck, the underbelly of a sibriex hosted a writhing mass of stalks, puckers, and feeding tubes. Although they could lazily float through the air, a body harness fitted with steel chains ending in sharpened spikes was tied around their bodies, which tethered them to the ground and could be animated by them in order to "walk" along solid surfaces.

“No creature embodies the chaotic nature of the Abyss so well as the sibriex. Although the realm of the demons is already a place filled with infinite horrors, sibriexes for some reason make even more of these monstrosities.” — Mordenkainen

While the true inner workings of the sibriex mind were unknown even to demonologists, it was apparent that they took personal satisfaction in dominating, modifying, and destroying all other lifeforms. Intelligent and perverse, they enjoyed bullying and tormenting weak creatures, but tended to avoid anyone stronger or smarter than themselves. They were primarily concerned with the increase of their own power and, over the eons, had accrued a vast amount of information from across the multiverse that they greedily hoarded for future use.

Sibriexes viewed flesh grafting as its own kind of art form, and their newfound demonkin were regarded as mere raw material for experimentation. Extremely vain and arrogant creatures, sibriexes made high demands from anyone who hired them for their services, in the form goods or services in return. Such payments could be made with gold, works of art, magic items, large contingents of guards, or other comforts with which to decorate their lairs. They kept a large number of magical weapons and items in their lairs, even if they couldn't use them personally, in order to bestow them upon worthy servants.

Sibriexes warped not only the physical reality around them but twisted the minds of those nearby. Those that dared to approach them were not only poisoned by their toxic aura of corruption, but they risked their minds being tainted by a sibriex's eldritch influence and might start viewing it as the perfect life form. Such a mind-warping power drained the victim's personality and self-esteem, although other demons and those with sibriex-grafted flesh were immune. By focusing their efforts, sibriexes could near-instantly warp several creatures nearby, permanently turning those incapable of resisting into the deformed monstrosities known as abyssal wretches. The process could be completed in under a minute and the victim's only hope of salvation would be a wish spell.

By channeling Abyssal power, sibriexes could create legions of demons out of other creatures, so many that within a few days they could create vast forces of rutterkin to defend them. Their warping was generally temporary if agonizing, wearing off if the victim could resist the effects for long enough. If for whatever reason a being wanted to accept a sibriex's flesh-warping, they could undergo an excruciating, hour-long process that permanently transformed them without turning them into a wretch. Some also claimed they could graft flesh instantly, if a limited amount of times each day, using Abyssal chaos as the material. Results of accepting the flesh-warping included the expansion, reduction, multiplication, transition, creation, animation and otherwise alteration of one's anatomy.

Sibriexes could freely manipulate the four chains attached to their bodies using their telekinesis. The chains were not truly parts of them, acting more as weapons or items that could be broken despite being highly durable. Sibriexes could use their creation-based abilities to make new chains if their old ones broke.

From the feeding tubes that hung off their lower bodies, sibriexes could spit shots of highly acidic, black bile at their enemies in order to liquefy them. They could float not because of any magical power, but because like beholders their bodies were naturally buoyant. They could innately cause the effects of the charm person, command, dispel magic, hold monster, and feeblemind spells.

Most sibriexes, if threatened, would immediately try to melt down their enemies with their acidic bile before charming foes to their side in order to better their chances. Afterwards, they used feeblemind to disable enemy spellcasters as appropriate to the situation. They were extremely skilled in the use of their chains as weapons, lashing out at enemies in single, fluid motions by gracefully striking with one chain and anchoring it in order to let the other chains hit. While capable of biting opponents, such a tactic was less effective, although they would still do so to any opponent in reach.

Some sibriexes preferred to use their sheer unworldly presence to terrify enemy ranks while soaring across the battlefield. They would immobilize or otherwise limit their foe's movements before quickly turning them into pools of foul gore using their bile. Others viewed combat as a testing ground for their experiments, restraining foes before warping their flesh and turning them into terrifying monstrosities.

Sibriexes had no tolerance for equals among their associates and were found either surrounding themselves with lowly thralls or under the orders of a greater power. The sibriexes' ability to graft flesh out of the chaotic matter of the Abyss was highly valued by demon lords and certain spellcasters, making them most likely to be found within their lairs. If under the thumb of a master, they always sought out viable opportunities to betray them, becoming more domineering and wicked while being oppressed. This process usually only took a few weeks if the sibriex wasn't stopped, as they eventually took control of their environment and used their innate charm monster and feeblemind abilities to convert their supposed masters into puppets at their command. Some sibriexes were sought out and employed by demon lords not to craft flesh but to use their incredible knowledge to act as advisors and oracles, although such sibriexes still manipulated their employers for their own ends.

As a rule, sibriexes preferred to avoid politics and tried to keep themselves apart from major conflicts, living in large, isolated fortresses or unclaimed areas of the Abyss. Such lairs were guarded by armies of lesser demons and charmed monsters, allowing a sibriex to focus on strengthening their position.

The origin of sibriexes was largely unknown, but some sages claimed that they had come from an alien universe at the time of the creation of the Abyss. According to the World Axis cosmology, this event coincided with the insertion of the shard of evil into the Elemental Chaos by Tharizdun. Their Abyssal layer of origin, or at the least the one they were most commonly encountered in, was the 558th, known as the Fleshforges, a protoplasmic dimension of ever-changing organic matter with lakes of bodily fluid and mountains of bone.

The sibriexes were thought to have originally been spawned from ancient clans of obyriths specializing in flesh crafting, enslavement, and academic pursuits. They were never numerous, even before the fall of the obyriths, and the conditions for their reproduction seemed to have been lost with obyrith dominion. It was estimated that there were only a few hundred sibriexes in existence, usually no more than one per each layer of the Abyss.

During the war waged by the obyriths against law, the precursor to the Blood War, sibriexes were tasked with breeding and augmenting the obyrith armies with their implants. After generations of experiments, sibriexes played a major role in the creation of the various tanar'ri races that initially fought for their obyrith masters. Their craft could most easily be seen in some of the characteristics of tanar'ri anatomy that looked artificial, such as the half-organic armor plating found underneath the flesh of the glabrezus and hezrous.

After the obyriths' defeat at the hands of the tanar'ri, sibriexes used their cunning to swiftly switch sides and started working for the new demon lords in the same way they served their former masters. Whether or not there was any kind of underlying scheme behind the augmentation of the race that overthrew their former masters was unknown.

Five brilliant sibriexes inhabited the Scabwash Sentinels, a laboratory located in the ocean portion of Gaping Maw, the 88th layer of the Abyss. The sea around the laboratory was constantly polluted with refuse and crowded by their failed experiments.

Source: https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Sibriex

[rcksmith]

Be mine — Roman Godfrey

Requests: “Helloo, I would like to request an imagine of roman Godfrey with smut prompt 28”

“Hii, omg I lover your work!! Can you do fluff prompts 45 and 59 and smut prompts 32 whit Roman Godfrey? Thank you, love💖”

Fluff prompts:

45. “where have you been all my life?”

59. “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Smut prompts:

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

32. “I’m going to show you what a real fucking is.”

A/N: I was excited about these request for Roman, I loved it. I hope you guys like.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Roman Godfrey/ Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, explicit smut, NSFW, degradation, dirty talk and also fluff too.

— — — — —

The big white and airy room tried to show a soothing and safe energy, the light tones contrasted with the golden rays of the sun outside and could even try to show a lyrical vibe. Could, if not for everything else.

It was hard to pinpoint the source that messed up that whole idea of ​​peace that the colors on the walls had, but maybe it was because Godfrey Industries was... oblique, mysterious, sinister. There was something in the air, a dark breeze that echoed all the floors of that gigantic building, bringing the feeling that something was out of place. It was, at times, disconcerting. Like looking at a perfect painting but knowing that something is out of place. Or to witness the seconds of frightening calm before a major disaster. But as the months went by, you had to get used to it and adapt to it. Your daydreams wandered far away. You wondered what you were doing there, in that country town that also had that sinister energy.

Why you left Los Angles? Okay, did you know why. After finishing college, you sent out resumes to as many companies as you could. Its from that time when you realize that adult life has knocked on the door and that the cost of living in California was too high. The plan, when you left home to pursue your dream and go to college in another state, was to get a job as soon as possible. But some things got out of your control, and when you realized it, you had graduated and you didn't have enough money to come up with second plans.

So, when the multinational Godfrey Industries called you after an interview and gave you the job, you didn't hesitate. The salary was too good for a international negotiations assistant, and after a while you could breathe easier, and be able to straighten out your financial life and have a better resume to be able to get back to a big city.

It was a good plan, a rational plan. You were proud of that. But it was logical that too much confidence was accompanied by some ruin.

And its ruin came under the name of Roman Godfrey.

Roman was swallowed all the air in any the room when he entered, as if its imposing presence subdued any environment. Everything about him exuded the same objective: to conquer, to possess, to win. He was the Trojan army. But the worst and the most dangerous was not his difficult personality, but how you felt close to him. How his presence caused side effects on you.

He was absolutely gorgeous. It should be considered illegal for someone to have that appearance, that voice, that sinisterly penetrating look. You felt that Roman Godfrey had the aura of intense and exciting music, like the song of danger.

He was the personification of sin, and you were being tested by the universe.

The trinity of what could be a gigantic disaster was completed when, a few months ago, Roman started testing you, joining the universe in what appeared to be a plan to slaughter your sanity.

It was your first meeting with the Company a few weeks after you was hired. Adam, the director of the international negotiations sector, for whom you are an assistant, asked you to bring all the documents of the process and remain in the meeting. It was about an international multi who wanted to buy some equipment from Godfrey Industries, but who were working hard to try to close deals at a lower price.

As you handed a copy of the negotiation to each sector director in that room, you felt a pair of eyes burning the back of your neck the whole time, like your shadow. The caustic sensation ruffled all the hair on the back of your neck, snaking from head to toe and made you search the environment behind the author.

That's when you finding him.

Roman had the green irises stuck to you like a tattoo on your skin. As if unraveling all your secrets, your sins, virtues and all your thoughts. It was intense, magnetic... dangerous.

You felt the white walls of that room were embraced by a black and dark shadow, and the air became thin. Then he smiled. A smug and arrogant little smile. The kind who won a battle.

It had been the beginning of a sequence of events. Roman began to request and make sure that you were present at all meetings, negotiations, cases, even when your presence added much more to your professional knowledge than to contribute to the resolution of company problems. At that time the order was still not directed at you, Adam just told you that Godfrey wanted you at meetings.

It was strange, atypical, almost surreal. You used to go into the conference room and look directly at Roman, frowning in silent questioning at him. But he never gave you an answer. He just gave that smug smile and turned his attention to the big screen in the living room.

This happened five times before Roman sent to tell you that he wanted to see you in his office.

“But why?!" You frowned at Adam.

The man looked at you for a second before shrugging.

“Your work has been impeccable, I think he just wants to give you more things to do.” Adam kept his eyes on the documents themselves.

"But you are my boss.” Sometimes you had a habit of saying what you thought without considering the consequences.

Your mother and your friends said that you had a total inability to hide what you felt, to be someone reserved or shy. You were almost always the person who said everything you felt.

Adam laughed softly, already used to your personality and turned his eyes to you.

“And he is my boss."

You restrained yourself from rolling your eyes. The truth was, you didn't want to find him. Roman puzzled you, messed with your system. And after those 5 meetings without explaining why you were there, you started to want to avoid his presence.

But apparently the universe was not on your side this time.

You got up and excused yourself, listening to your own heels echoing down the hall before entering the elevator and pressing the last button. Going to Godfrey's office.

Anxiety coursed through your veins like overwhelming electricity, making you sway on your heels and stir your fingers.

What did he want with you? Had you done something? Was he crazy?

You sucked in the air hard, shrugging your shoulders to relax when the door opened up. You walked for a while before stopping at Roman's office and knocking on the door with your finger.

“Come in." The voice made your heart skip a few beats.

You walked in, closing the door behind you and laying your eyes on the tall, slender figure who was sitting behind the table, dressed in black pieces and a small smile.

“Did you want to see me, Mr.Godfrey ?"

Maybe it was your imagination or your nervousness that was seeing things in between lines, but you could have sworn that Roman breathed harder after you said his last name.

You stopped in front of his desk, too agitated to sit on the chair.

“Yes, Darling.” He stood up, getting much bigger than you, even though your feet were in a 10 cm heel.

Roman fished a file on the table itself, bypassing the table and coming menacingly close to you. He stood in front of you again, his hip against the table and leaning there, holding out the file for you. You took seconds longer than you would like to pick up the papers, Roman's left leg was dangerously close to yours, the knee almost brushing your thigh covered by the black skirt.

“I need it ready by night."

That's when you came out of the trance, picking up the folder and staring at the amount of stuff there. It was a process about an agreement with a company in Asia, and it was so bureaucratic that it would take up your entire time. And you already had a million things for do.

“But...” You were about to start talking, but Roman moved away from the edge of the table, his chest hovering over yours.

You have never felt so small, so fragile and so vulnerable in your life. You had to lift your chin to face him straight.

“You are going to be a good girl and bring me this tonight.” It was not a request. “You will, right?”

Your common sense or decorum had gone somewhere. Maybe was lost in your own stupidity. The oxygen evaporated from your lungs. And before you could think of something diplomatic and good to say. Because you were not dumb. You heard yourself say:

“Yes, Mr. Godfrey.”

Fucking hell!

“Great.” He gave you a rewarding smile.

From that moment on events like this became routine. In fact, you tried to mask that you liked it, that it wasn't extremely unprofessional, that he was not only your boss, but also the owner of the entire company. Over time you learned to deal with him too, Roman was never brazen or touched you, he would drop some ‘Dear’ or ‘Pretty’ over and over here for you, but, truth be told, you didn’t get uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was your feminine vanity. You didn't want to be selfish, but having a man like Roman Godfrey praise you did wonders for your feminine vanity. You felt absurdly beautiful. He made you feel like the personification of the Female Fatal, and you liked that. So you would roll your eyes at him and give him some jokes smiles in his direction whenever these things happened.

You did not deny it, but you also do not return any praise.

Over the months you had practically become more of an assistant to Roman than to Adam. He kept you getting bogged down with things to do and telling Adam to pass on your old duties to any other goddamn person.

“They accept to close if they have had 30% of the profits.” You put your cell phone down to talk to Roman, who had his hip against the desk work and an open file in his hands.

“They must be stupid” he rolled his eyes “10% and I will still be being generous.”

You went back to your call, your eyes fixed on the top view of the city as you settled the deal.

“I can get them to close by 15% if we send the equipment by tomorrow.” You said to Roman again, plugging the cell phone microphone with your other hand “But it has to be send until the morning. Not next.”

Roman smiled broadly and satisfied, nodding his head in ‘Yes�� as you turned your attention to the city view and finished the negotiation. You were getting the details right when you felt a presence behind you, the heat radiating for your back and making you lose your breath for a second. You swallowed and tried to ignore something vibrating in your core, disconnecting the call as soon as you closed the deal.

“What would I do without you?” Roman's voice blew at the top of your ear, his ghostly touch fanning your skin.

You laughed to try to hide how much your core pulsed, turning around enough to face his completely.

"I don't know, you would have already lost four contracts.” You tried to joke, but he was absurdly close.

The scent of a man and an expensive cologne swallowed you like a wave and dragged you into the sea, drowning you. The emerald green eyes were fixed on you, as if they swallowed you.

“You could work for me.” Godfrey let go, taking another step closer to you.

Instinctively, you took a step back, your back finding the cold glass behind you and trapping you between the cold sensation and the absurd warmth of the man.

"I already work for you.” You said it as if it were obvious, letting out a nervous laugh and trying to clean up how much your uterus vibrated now.

“No, you work more with Adam.” He rolled his eyes, his hand now resting on your hip, rising to your waist like a snake “I speak of you being my assistant, being here when I arrive, spending the all days with me.”

Your heart screamed, your pussy throbbed so hard that if Roman hadn't paid attention to you, you would have bitten your lip.

“Are you flirting with me?”

"You finally noticed?"

There was no way to deny to yourself that you had already reached your share of perverted dreams with Roman Godfrey. He was like an addiction! It was unbearable how present he was always in your head, playing with your sanity, making you think of how those absurdly long fingers would fuck you so well, how those impeccable clothes hid a maddening body.

And that was exactly why you couldn't be him assistant.

If it was already overwhelmingly difficult to occasionally remain in him presence without diverting your thoughts, every day would be impossible. All the time. You would end up having to resign your job after, because any involvement between you would not result in a happy ending. Aside from being extremely unethical, it would end up destroying your heart, and God, you needed the job!

"M-Mr Godfrey." You tried to speak, touching his chest with the palm of your hand with the intention of gently pushing him away.

But the shot backfired. He was cold. Absurdly cold. Cold that makes you want to warm up, an addictive, that intoxicates you. Suddenly, you are already wondering if other parts of it would be cold too.

Would the kiss contain the beauty and temperature of the snow? When Roman entered you, would he be consumed by the heat of your needy walls? He Would it stick to you like a private sun?

“Pretty.” Godfrey sighed against your cheek, dangerously lowering his lips in your direction. “Why not stay with me? Where can I fuck you every day? ”

This time you moaned, a low moan that gave up all of your game. It lit a dangerous, vital fire in Roman's eyes, and him hand, which once touched you softly, now snaked into your waist, pulling you close.

“Do you like to hear that? That I want to fuck you until you scream?” You closed your fingers on him black dress shirt, closing your lip between your teeth to contain a groan.

Roman's mouth went to your neck, pouring wet, surprisingly hot kisses onto your skin.

"Would you like to know that I have imagined fucking you hard for a long time?” His hands went to the hem of your skirt. “That I want to tag you with my cum until you're just mine?"

“Mr.Go-Godfrey!” You moaned loudly, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your head go back and lean against the glass wall.

“Tell me, Pretty.” He lifted his lips to hover over yours “Tell me you want this as much as I do.”

You frantically ascended your head, letting a 'Yes' leave with a low sob.

Thereafter Roman wasted no time. He pulled you onto his lap by your thighs, placing you under his desk and throwing all objects on the table with one arm. He kissed you. Furiously. He kissed you as if you were his property, as if you were the answer to all his prayers, his divinity. Your mouth opened to get air and Roman took the opportunity to invade with his tongue, hunting you.

You groaned, or he, or both.

"I'm going to show you what a real fucking is." Roman snarled against your mouth, not considering any consequences before popping all the buttons on your shirt with a two-handed tug, making you gasp.

That seemed to bring you back to Earth.

You pulled your chest away from him, and Roman looked up at you with a questioning expression.

“Ro-Roman, this is wrong.” you said.

“You have no idea how much I don’t give a fuck.” He leaned over to kiss you again, extremely excited by the sight of you in a lacy bra, but you averted your face by placing your hands on him chest.

You said. “I'm going to have to resign this job later if I do it, and I need the job.”

Romam snorted, straightening up again.

“Who says you need to resign? Did you forget that I am the owner of this crap?” He brought his lips to your neck once more, and you sighed softly “Be mine. Be mine."

“I don’t know.”

Romam held your face in his hands, in a gentle touch, which clashed absurdly with the lush fire in his eyes.

“I don't want to fuck you because you work here, but because I think you're fucking beautiful.” He said “Be mine, and if you don't want anything to do with me afterwards, that's okay, let's keep working normally.” Roman moved closer, his voice hitting your mouth “Let me fuck this hot pussy, I'm sure you'll want more later. And I will give you everything you want.”

So you gave in. You kissed him fiercely, spreading your legs wider and settling them between them, letting the skirt roll to pile on your hips and exposing lace panties. Roman reaching down to your back and removing your bra, dropping your mouth over your left breast when it was exposed.

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back, curling your fingers in his hair and sighing when Godfrey moved his fingers down the middle of your legs. You whimpered, rummaging around in his hand for some friction, needy and needy.

Roman laughed arrogantly against your breast: “Such a needy little thing, aren't you?” He took a bite out of your left beak as he walked away to remove his belt.

You groaned, your eyes on fire, your body hot and needy. And that's when Roman looked at you. A hot fucking woman half naked at his table, so beautiful and perfect that it was almost a sin. He wanted to be able to record that scene forever. You were perfect. He thought you were extraordinarily perfect.

Then he rushed ferociously at you again, his hands wrapped around your hot body as he moaned on your lips: "Where have you been all my life?"

You gasped, finishing the job of his belt and pants, fighting a battle with his tongue.

“Waiting for this moment.” You provoked it with a sensual chuckle, nibbling on his lower lip.

Roman shared your sly smile, tearing at your panties and holding his own dick in your direction. You moaned louder this time, in need, lowering your hands to his hips and rolling around his waist, trying to get closer.

Roman laughed, sinking his mouth into yours and also plunging his dick into yours smooth folds.

You screamed out loud, clasping your body to his while Roman put an arm around your waist, gluing your body to his and hitting the stick at the end of the well, drawing out a loud groan from both of you. The environment was filled with moaning and pornographic sounds, the table rattling beneath you as the things that were left on top now fell completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clenching your nails at the back of your neck as you wrapped your legs around Roman's hips, pulling him further into you and swallowing him completely.

“Holy fuck!” He snarled, lowering his mouth to meet your neck and shoulder, closing his teeth there as he demanded more force in his movements.

Godfrey beat without mercy, without pause, conquering and proclaiming his every piece of your body as his own. You could no longer control your moans, all the sensations exploded inside you like nuclear bombs and pleasure and pain curved all your lines of reasoning. You laid your back on the table, your breasts jumping with the speed and strength of him movements, while Roman clasped his hands on your waist and set a brighter pace as he pulled you onto his dick and propelled your hips at you.

“So fuck hot slut!” He growled, never stopping the pace.

You shouted something that looked like him name, and threw your head back when the orgasm invaded your system, shaking your legs and pulling him deeper. Roman moaned loudly, squeezing your flesh so tightly that it would leave marks tomorrow, while he cum inside you, spilling all the hot liquid on your barriers.

You were sweaty and panting, but Roman didn't give you a second to breathe and process the situation until he leaned over to you, still inside your core, and kissed your right breast, dropping one:

“Dinner at my place tomorrow?”

You laughed, still very airy, and agreed, overcome by tiredness.

“Okay, Godfrey.” Roman gave you another lunge of teasing, making your laugh mix with a groan.

[kokoinupi]

fuck it. rating the swords in cql by fuckability.

thanks to a certain extra chapter i now cannot watch the untamed without thinking about the logistics of fucking the swords. so im gonna rank em based on overall sexiness of design of course, but more importantly, by practical insertability of the hilt. its 4am.

Lan Wangji's sword (Bichen)

the whore that started this all. good ol bichen. this is the only sword we have canon information on the genuine fuckability of. solid, attractive design, for sure, though personally it's a little blocky and boring for me. the main part of the hilt is well-shaped, with a subtle wavy topography in what looks like quartz or ivory, not bad at all. the sword exudes icy air as well which can certainly be a point for it if you're into that, or a point against if you're not keen on getting frostbite in the worst possible place. but there's one big problem here; the shape at the end of the hilt seems very problematic in terms of insertability, so much so that I wonder if the prop designers knew anything at all about the fate of this particular sword, or if they did, and they deliberately tried to make it as unfuckable as possible to hopefully put that thought out of everyone's minds. but we're all thinking it anyway. 6/10 godspeed wei wuxian.

Wei Wuxian's sword (Suibian)

oh honey, this is a stick. this is a branch. very aptly named "whatever", suibian is overall an "eh" in the looks department. in some shots it looks more shiny and finished, but in others it seriously looks like a piece of wood from the forest floor. it's like the swordsmith heard what wuxian wanted to name it and decided to stop trying. the metal detail lends a little to it, and i do have to admit that the blade itself is a lot sexier than the sheath, there's also something to say about its loyalty in sealing itself for only its master, but in its everyday look, it leaves a lot to be desired. the shape of the hilt is not bad, and it has no obstructions at the end, but i wonder exactly how finished the wood really is.... 3/10 ow ass splinters.

Jiang Cheng's sword (Sandu)

ok now this is a sexy sword. very good overall look. this sword is a hot goth that you spot from across the mall food court that you will never talk to, because you know it is too good for you. sandu has its aesthetic figured out. the deep purple, the quilted pattern, the entwined snakes? hell, sandu is too good for jc himself. the frog at the end may be a slight problem for cowards, but it's nowhere near as bad as bichen, and has the ridges down the hilt to make up for it. 8.5/10 the name is metal as fuck too.

Lan Xichen's sword (Shuoyue)

not terrible in design, though it's honestly just bichen's less hot brother. the bulky dull metal looks somewhat cheap and thin, but i do like the double chains on either side of the sheath. the hilt itself is a more exaggerated texture from bichen, and is that same pretty opaque white, but of course the glaring problem here again is the end. this looks like a nightmare to insert, to at least double the degree that bichen is. this is a plug, but not in the way you want it to be. shuoyue does, however, gain something for being the sword in the most homoerotic and tense scene, jgy's death scene, so that's redeeming, i think. 4.5/10 just fuck bichen instead.

Nie Mingjue's saber (Baxia)

ouch. ow. nothing is more hostile and outright unfuckable than baxia's little head of spikes. sexy design but at what cost. you'll have a better time fucking nmj himself tbh. 0/10 not even a sword.

Jin Zixuan/Jin Ling's sword (Suihua)

sexy in an insufferable rich asshole way. so pretty but so infurioratingly stuck up and arrogant it drives you insane and you can't stop thinking about it. the gold detailing is a little much, but like, in a good way. the blue on the sheath is a perfect touch. hilt is smooth and unproblematic, with the buttons for a little extra something, good shape, if not a little short and underwhelming. suihua overall is not a bad sword to fuck, but you better not fall in love with it. 7/10 is he gay or just european.

Xiao Xingchen's sword (Shuanghua)

if shuoyue is bichen's less hot brother, then shuanghua is bichen's sexy cousin, even down to the frost magic. the design is immediately one of the prettiest right away, with the silver design on the sheath and the pretty clean matte white. the structured hexagonal shape of the hilt is incredibly interesting, and the intricate engraving is a nice touch. the end does have a similar problem to bichen though, but while it is more rounded outwards, it's also not disconnected the way bichen is so it's up to you whether it's better or worse overall. 7/10 everyone's sword crush.

Xue Yang's sword (Jiangzai)

holy shit this is a hot sword. i know i previously haven't been commenting on the blades because they're usually sheathed in the pictures i find, but how can i not acknowledge the aesthetic of this blade. everything about this sword overall is exceptionally beautiful, and just the right amount of evil to suit xy. the hilt is very smooth and a bit tapered in shape, very nice. biggest problems is that it does have a tassle on the hilt, and the very end is a flat piece of metal, which might be sharp and would bring down insertability significantly. but i really can't find it in me to lower the score of this beautiful sword for that. 10/10 but the manhua version is even sexier.

Wen Chao's sword

i literally would not be making this post if not for this nameless beauty right here. this sword, in its bold, yet refined design, is the entire reason i thought to myself, hm, maybe you could fuck more than just bichen? it's honestly such a shame that i can't find a higher quality image of this sword, so you'll just have to trust me on this one. the exaggerated, swirled ridges spiraling down the hilt are... needless to say, very intriguing, and the head of it is not only rounded for ideal insertability, but is such a perfect cap shape too. there is absolutely nothing wrong with this sword, down to the design of the sheath, except for the man that carries it. take it out of his hands and put it somewhere more useful. 100/10 i think im genuinely sexually attracted to swords now.

[nmikaelsonimagines]

Forever With You: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: Hi there, I hope you are well! Anyway, this request is going to be over a couple of asks because I don't have the character count to get it any less, I hope you don't mind! Anyway I was thinking of something based on the angsty monologue from the Notebook, an Allie/Noah kind of passionate, feisty, dramatic relationship but without the separation, husband etc (if you've seen it that is, if not just ignore what I've said and go by the quote alone, if you feel it inspires you?)  That’s right. We do that sometimes, remember? We don’t cut each other any slack. If I’m being a jerk or an arrogant sonofabitch, you tell me. If you’re a pain in the a—, which you are ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ve got no problem telling you, or hurting your feelings, which have about a two second rebound rate before you’re off doing the next pain in the a— thing. So, it’s not going to be perfect. We’ll have to work at it every day. But I want you.  Not for today, or next week, but forever. Every day, you and me. Think about your life twenty years or fifty years from now. Where do you want to be?' Endofquote. So yeah, kind of angry, angsty, passionate, hot, everyday argument that got out of hand but with a nice/sexy/fluffy ending or whatever, it's up to you if you feel like you could work with this many words lol If not, no worries! Have a great day and thanks for your time!  

Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

“What the Hell is wrong with you?”

It was a question you had heard many people ask Klaus Mikaelson, but it was one you had never thought would leave your lips. You had never seen his flaws in quite the way other people had, enjoying the dramatics, the passion, the ferocity that exuded from him, especially when it all came in the form of his love for you, his kisses, his touches littered along your skin. 

But now here you were, glaring at him, anger boiling in your blood. He had had no right to do what he had done, no right to tell your oldest friend to stay away from you, no right to be jealous of something that wasn’t even plausible. It would be like dating your brother, would be wrong on so many levels, and you thought Klaus would have trusted you to defend yourself if something had ever gone in that direction. 

But instead, he had merely threatened your visitor, epitomising himself as the jealous type. 

On second thoughts, anger was an understatement. As you looked at Klaus, his hair wet, his torso on display as a result of climbing out of the shower when you arrived, only just managing to pull on a pair of trousers before you shouted at him, you realised that you were more than angry. 

You were upset, heartbroken that after all this time together, all the words of love, the actions of passion, Klaus could still resort to something like this. 

You usually wanted to kiss the smirk off his face, trail your fingers over the birds that flew across his collarbone. Now, you wanted to punch it off, claw at the tattoo with your nails to hurt him as he had hurt you. 

And he had the nerve to stand there and act like nothing had happened. “I’m pretty sure Elijah has a list of something along those lines. Or maybe that’s inopportune deaths. Either way, I’d be more than happy to get it for you if you need an answer, love.”

“Oh, don’t you dare play dumb with me,” you sneered at him. You could see the rage begin to build in his eyes, knew where this was going. That was the thing about your relationship with Klaus; for all the drama, the passion, the ferocity when you showed your love for each other, it would be reiterated in equal amounts when you argued. “You know what you said.”

Klaus turned his back on you. Usually, the movement of his shoulder blades had memories of nights of passion swimming in your mind - now, you hated that he wouldn’t face you as he spoke, his tone of voice mirroring that which he used for his enemies. Enemies whom he had outwitted, enjoying the surprise when he revealed to them just how he had bested them this time. “Ah yes, your,” he turned to face you, chewing on the following word, “friend. I see he got the message then.”

You marched over to Klaus, fire in every step. “You had no right, no right to do that. He’s my friend.”

“I was protecting you, Y/N.”

“From what?!”

“He’s in love with you, anyone can see it.”

“And?”

“And you’re my girlfriend.” Klaus’s nostrils flared as his anger set in. “You’re my girlfriend, Y/N. And I wasn’t going to let him have you.”

“Well then maybe you could have trusted me to handle it myself rather than threaten him.” You regretted your next words the moment you said them, but they slipped out before you could stop them. “God knows he would have.”

You saw the hurt flash in Klaus’s eyes, a minute sign of his vulnerability wounding you just so. You made to backtrack, to apologise, knowing that you didn’t mean that. You loved Klaus with every ounce of your being, wouldn’t want to lose the fire he started in your heart, the passion, the dramatics, any of it. You wouldn’t want to lose him, and just as you were about to explain that, Klaus spoke, anger replacing the hurt. 

“Well maybe you should go to him instead. You might cut him some more slack than you do me.”

The venom in Klaus’s words changed everything. He had never spoken to you like that before, and it pained you in more ways than you could have ever imagined. The atmosphere changed from thunderstorms to light rain, dripping down on both of you as grey clouds loomed overhead. You realised then that you needed the sun to come out, needed your Klaus to look at you like he loved you again. 

“That’s right. We do that sometimes, remember? We don’t cut each other any slack. If I’m being a jerk or an arrogant sonofabitch, you tell me. If you’re a pain in the ass, which you are ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ve got no problem telling you, or hurting your feelings, which have about a two second rebound rate before you’re off doing the next pain in the ass thing. So,” you walked over to Klaus, hesitantly putting your hand on his cheek, letting out a sigh of relief when his anger dissipated and he leaned into your touch, “it’s not going to be perfect. We’ll have to work at it every day. But I want you.  Not for today, or next week, but forever. Every day, you and me. Think about your life twenty years or fifty years from now. Where do you want to be?”

Klaus leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. “I want to be with you. I want to spend forever with you.”

Apologies were never spoken between you and Klaus. Instead they were spelled out in the trailing of fingers down spines, the brushes of lips that grew more and more urgent with every moment that passed, the wrapping of your legs around his waist as he picked you up and placed you onto the bed. 

They were spelled out in the shedding of clothes, the I love yous that were murmured with every movement. 

They were spelled out in the dramatics, the passion, the ferocity of it all.

And you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. If this was to be forever, then you were more than happy to spend it with none other than Klaus Mikaelson. 

If this was to be forever, you welcomed it with open arms. 

If this was to be forever, you and Klaus would greet it with a smile.

Masterlist

[wondereads]

Personal Review (06/05/22)

City of Bones by Cassandra Clare

Why am I reviewing this book?

This is a YA fantasy classic, and I recently decided to reread them since I wanted to read the later series. While I love some Cassandra Clare books (The Infernal Devices especially), these early ones... they're certainly something.

Plot 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

Clary Fray's life gets turned upside down when her mother disappears, her home is trashed, and she's attacked by something that's supposedly a demon. She's saved by a mysterious boy named Jace who claims to be a Shadowhunter, a part-angel warrior that defends Earth from demons—and Clary is one too. But Clary couldn't care less about that when her mother is missing.

Looking back, it's kind of astonishing that I never figured out that this was Harry Potter fanfiction considering the setup of Valentine and his motivations. I wouldn't say this plot is super original, but there is enough going on that it didn't drag (this is not true for the later books). However, the worldbuilding, considering when this book was published, was unique. Shadowhunters were a new concept, so I have to give Clare credit there. Even if it was fanfiction in the beginning, the plot and worldbuilding are new enough to trick Harry Potter-obsessed, middle school me, and it is interesting.

Still, it's a little mediocre. The "plot twist" (which isn't even really a plot twist since it gets undone later in the series) isn't foreshadowed at all, and there are inconsistencies. It's excusable for Jace, Isabelle, and Alec, but why has Clary suddenly forgotten about the conveniences of modern life? DNA tests are right there, and certainly a better option than just trusting the creepy, blood purist guy you're supposed to be fighting.

Characters 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

Clary is an unfortunate victim of "relatable protagonist syndrome". There's such a big focus on making her relatable to every possible girl that could ever read this book that she comes out without any noticeable personality traits. I will say that I appreciated her focus on finding her mother, but that's about it. The protagonist should be the driving force behind a story, but Clary just kind of lets stuff happen to her. Even when she was making decisions, it was mostly just agreeing with someone else rather than coming up with anything for herself. Also, can she stop ridiculing traditionally feminine interests and traits?

Jace is actually quite interesting. His self-loathing hidden by suffocating amounts of arrogance makes for a very interesting dynamic. Something I enjoyed was that other than to an audience of starstruck 13-year-olds, Jace is supremely unlikable. If I met him in real life, I'd probably slap him. However, it creates an interesting push-and-pull between Jace's crappy attitude and the undeniable gravity he exudes—to both Clary and his friends, Isabelle and Alec.

Middle school me ate Clary and Jace up, but they were just alright this time around. Of course, minus points for the incest plotline. Instead, I found the platonic or background relationships much more compelling. Whether it was Clary and Isabelle growing closer, Jace and Alec's brotherhood, or Alec's developing crush on Magnus, those were so much more emotionally satisfying than whatever Jace and Clary had going on. Special mentions to Isabelle and Magnus for being the best characters.

Writing Style 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

I will say, the writing surprised me with its quality. The descriptions were well-executed and easily let me picture what was occurring, the emotions were subtle while still having clarity, and there were some great lines. Say what you will about Cassandra Clare, but she knows how to write teenagers. The snarky, playful way the main five interacted with each other was a perfect portrayal of real-life teenagers. Many of Simon's comments about Jace or Shadowhunters in general, were very believable from a teenage boy. A lot of times, snark and sass in writing come off as forced or ingenuine, but if anything the way Clare writes character conversations and dialogue felt quite real.

The pacing of this book was alright if a little slow in some places. This technically breaks the rules of my reviews, but the pacing goes way off the rails in the later books. City of Glass in particular drags like no other.

Overall 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

There is some sentimental value to this book, and it definitely has its good points. The writing is a very strong point, and I liked pretty much all the characters except Clary. It also goes by pretty quickly for a book on the longer side, and it had some original ideas for the time. However, there's nothing new about the plot, the characters ignore solutions and believe whatever they're told, and Clary could be replaced by a scarecrow with a stele and nothing would change. I find this book interesting enough that I wouldn't discourage people from trying it, but don't force yourself.

The Author

Cassandra Clare: American, Jewish, 48, also wrote Clockwork Angel, Lady Midnight, and The Iron Trial

The Reviewer

My name is Wonderose; I try to post a review once a week, and I do themed recommendations every once in a while. I take recommendations! Check out my about me post for more!

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ eight

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.9k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act one ➻ part eight

​

“Well, since you’re intent on changing the subject, Y/N…” Seonghwa interrupts as Yeosang opens his mouth to say something else. “I guess now is the perfect time to explain the real reason I brought you here.

“Pardon?” You inquire, tilting your head towards Seonghwa now in search of an explanation.

“It’s time for your first mission.”

Seonghwa grins from ear to ear, eyes disappearing behind his lids as he looks your way. You blink back with your mouth agape. It seems too soon for you to be doing something like this. You can’t understand Hongjoong’s game plan in deciding this, but there must be one.

“A covert mission. Get in and get out without being seen or leaving tracks. Relatively simple for someone with your history, and it may hit a little close to home. We’ll be raiding a military warehouse for some supplies. Y/N, you and Yeosang will be on the watch team. San and Jongho, you’ll be on the infiltration team. Y/N, if you can handle holding a sniper rifle, your job will be to watch for guards. Yeosang will do the same at the back entrance of the warehouse while you’ll be watching the front. Yeosang, as leader of this mission, you’ll be calling a majority of the shots when there. Does this sound manageable?”

You watch as Yeosang, Jongho, and San all nod without any hesitation. They don’t seem bothered by your presence on the mission in the slightest, but for some reason, that doesn’t make you feel any less out of place. Seonghwa still watches you, eyes cracking open as his smile fades into a thin line.

“Yes,” you say quietly after you realize that he’s waiting for your confirmation as well. “But… well, I have a question.” You’re a bit hesitant, and this sudden show of authority by Seonghwa has you realizing that the others listen to him for a reason. It may not be your place to question him, but something about his methods and decisions strikes you as odd. You can’t tell whether it’s Seonghwa’s own decision or Hongjoong’s. Hell, Seonghwa may not even know the answer to your question, but you won’t let that keep you from asking. “Why would Jongho be on the infiltration team? He’s a Berserker. It would make more sense to have you be on the mission instead as an Elitist.”

A breathy laugh leaves Seonghwa’s lips. He glances away from you in favor of looking down at the table. “That’s the kind of thinking I hate. The military teaches you to be so close-minded and only think about two possibilities when there are at least eight. Jongho may be a Berserker but he is one who needs to stay away from most of the action. Yeosang is the leader of the mission because he is an Elitist, and as the leader, he needs to stay back and watch over things from a distance. Jongho can take care of any rogue guards who might be out and about, but his primary goal is to defend San. Just holding still and watching for enemies to waltz in is not his specialty. Catering to abilities and skillsets is far more important than just putting more Elitists on the field. Make sense?”

“I suppose…” you mutter more to yourself than to him. Out the corner of your eye, you can see Seonghwa grinning.

“Good. If everyone understands, then you had best get going. Hongjoong is preparing to enter the atmosphere as we speak.” The tall man stands up, sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes, and moves to leave the room.

“W-Wait, what?” You stutter out. Seonghwa stops in his tracks and turns to look at you over his shoulder.

“Did you not hear me?”

“No, no, I heard you. I’m just – where are we landing?”

“Have you ever been to Medra, Y/N?”

Shock overwhelms your body in an instant. Medra? How is that possible? You can only stare at Seonghwa with a dumb expression on your features for a good ten or twenty seconds.

“H-How? How are we already in Yuki? Aurum’s system is at least sixteen parsecs away, and we can’t have left the system too long ago. There’s no feasible way that a ship this size could make the trip to Yuki in such a short amount of time. Only the highest grade military ships can move that quickly.”

Seonghwa smiles at you and laughs again, his amusement shining through clear as day. It’s a bit embarrassing to be laughed at in such a manner but your confusion is too great to be caring about that right now.

“Why are you asking that question, Y/N? You should remember what ship you’re on. The Horizon is the pride of the Black Sea, the fastest ship in the galaxy. Atlanteia is home to only one ship that can travel this fast, and the galaxy always gives us favorable traveling conditions. It shouldn’t surprise you one bit. Now, hurry up and get ready.” Seonghwa doesn’t wait around to tease you any longer; he turns on his heel and walks out of the room without any further ado.

You blink at his retreating figure until he’s completely out of sight before turning to San. “Wh-What am I supposed to do?” You ask. You know that each and every single one of these people is expecting great things from you given your reputation, but if they don’t explain what the fuck you’re supposed to do, you won’t get to show them anything at all.

San stands up from his own seat as well and motions for you to follow him out the room in the direction Seonghwa headed. Both Jongho and Yeosang get up at well, so you rush to lift yourself and trail after San before he gets too far ahead.

“The Horizon is home to three transport ships for on-planet distance traveling. We use them for almost all of our missions, so that’s what we’ll be taking to get to the Military Warehouse. Hongjoong will land the ship a couple hundred kilometers away from the warehouse so we can avoid being seen entering the atmosphere. Our cloaking controls on the ship will help but as I’m sure you know, the military has countermeasures for that sort of thing.”

“Hongjoong flies his own ship?” You inquire, surprise lacing your tone. Somewhere behind you, Yeosang releases a loud laugh.

“Hongjoong would never let anyone else steer the ship. Not even Seonghwa is allowed to touch the controls, and the one time he did, Hongjoong broke three of his fingers.”

Your surprise morphs into horror at Yeosang’s retelling of the story. San glances over at your expression and a small sigh escapes him.

“We’re headed down to the hangar bay,” he explains, one hand coming to rest on your arm as he guides you down the corridor. His touch is light over your bandages but even with the faintness, your wound throbs from the impact. “We’ll suit up and get weapons there.”

“Suit… suit up?” You echo.

“You’re hardly inconspicuous in your current outfit. The best way to hide in your surroundings is to blend in with them.” San motions towards your outfit, a small smile playing at his lips. “Did you ever see ecosuits during your time in the military?”

“No way,” Yeosang cuts in again, answering before you have the chance to respond yourself. “Aera was the only military in Aurum’s system to get ecosuits. We were leaders in advanced technology.”

“Actually, I did see them,” you counter. Casting a quick glance over your shoulder, you spot Yeosang’s bewildered expression and continue explaining. “My unit received a shipment of ecosuits to use on covert infiltration and assassination missions. I believe it was engineers on Eros who built the first versions of ecosuits though.”

Yeosang all but sneers at your comment, and you smirk back at him. San glances back with you, a loud laugh erupting from his lips as he spots the bothered expression across the blonde’s features. For someone who is supposed to be a traitor, he sure seems to have a lot of pride in his home and military…

The man brushes off your comment a moment later. He disguises his annoyance with a smile before addressing you. “If you aren’t careful, I’ll have to put you in your place,” he says with the slightest hint of a threat to his tone.

“It’s not the first time a man has threatened me with that possibility.”

San snickers under his breath at your comment, but Jongho releases a full-bodied laugh that echoes through the corridor. It’s weird seeing a Berserker act so carefree and docile in all honesty. You have to look forward again though, because San stops you with his arm and you nearly collide with a wall. Well, it’s less of a wall and more of the doors of an elevator, but it would have been both embarrassing and painful nonetheless. San presses a button on the wall, receiving an immediate ding in response to his actions.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen someone who can keep up with Yeosang’s level of feistiness,” Jongho comments as you all step into the elevator.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, eyes on his back as he steps in front of you.

“We haven’t had anyone on the crew who can match his temper and arrogance in a while.” Jongho shrugs while keeping his eyes forward as the elevator doors slide shut. “You seem to be the type to balance him out with calmness and humility. At least that’s the aura I get from you. Yeosang always feels so angry but you exude the opposite of that.”

As intriguing as Jongho’s explanation is, it isn’t the part that catches your interest. Rather his comment about how it’s “the first time in a while” is what strikes you the most. You were under the impression that the crew had only consisted of eight people and that’s it. You didn’t even think to consider that more people used to be a part of the crew. Yet Jongho’s words seem to confirm the presence of previous crewmembers.

“Did there used to be more people on the crew?” You ask with a bit of hesitance in your tone. You aren’t sure whether you’re breaching a line that should not be crossed. You get your answer a moment later. Jongho turns to you with his mouth open to respond, and Yeosang sends the most heated glare you’ve ever seen in his direction.

The elevator dings, breaking through the awkward tension that has suddenly arisen between Yeosang and Jongho, and San tugs you out of the elevator before you can ask if it’s a touchy subject. The moment you two are out of earshot of Yeosang, San leans close to you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Don’t bring up any past crew members. It’s a sensitive topic for many, and some respond with aggression rather than grief.”

You nod along to his words and bring your gaze back to where Yeosang is now exiting the elevator. There’s no time to dwell on San’s words or the possibilities lurking behind them because he keeps pulling you further into what must be the hangar bay. One quick glance at the vast open area to your left confirms your suspicions.

Three identical ships reside in the bay, much smaller and more compact than you expected, but you recognize the model to be the same as those of the military. The only difference lies in the color of the ships, each a jet black hue that is a stark difference to the white, gold, and red you’re used to seeing on each planet. San keeps pulling your attention left and right though so you can’t gawk at the ships for too long when he’s dragging you to a different corner of the room.

“Here,” he starts, pointing down at a table. It’s covered in an array of weapons – guns, knives, bullets all lined up and stacked atop each other – along with a stack of what must be ecosuits. The black kevlar is a familiar sight but not a pleasant memory, and you can only stare down at the suit with disdain in your eyes. “You can step behind the cabinet to change, if you’d like. We normally just change out here but… I can see how you may not want to do that.”

You laugh at his words, taking the tough material from his hands and bundling it up in your grasp. “Oh, I have no problem stripping down with you all but that’s more of a third date kind of thing to do, don’t you think?”

San responds with a laugh of his own, nearly choking on his saliva as he struggles to catch his breath, and you step around the cabinet he mentioned to slip into the ecosuit. It’s relatively easy to slip into, despite the bandage on your arm getting a bit in the way, but the bigger issue is that you’re having trouble zipping the back all the way up. Asking for help isn’t an option; the words Daichi spoke to you in your dream days ago still linger with you and despite claiming to not care about his words, you are a bit paranoid.

“Someone near you is a dangerous threat, one that you’ve never encountered before. You must be careful. Guard yourself wisely.”

So your only option is to suck it up and pull the zipper over your cascading tattoos rather than asking for help. San startles you a moment later, head poking around the corner as you have your back to him.

“Hey,” he says. You whip around so fast that it hurts your head, fingers still on the zipper that isn’t quite all the way up. You can only hope that he somehow missed the marking on your back. “You good?”

“Y-Yea, yea.” You nod a few times and give the zipper one last yank. It gives and pulls all the way up thankfully, saving you from any further awkwardness.

“Cool, you can just throw those clothes in a pile out here.” You gather the wad of clothes on the floor and follow San back out. Tossing them atop an already existing pile of clothes, you stretch your arms a bit to get used to the tight material over your body. The military never made these things the most comfortable to work in, so tight you can barely breathe properly, but at least the tech involved is neat to some extent. You never were one for enjoying the engineering side of things but some of your closest friends were and that was enough for you to at least respect the efforts that were put into these things.

Yeosang catches your attention, pulling you out of the memories by beckoning you closer to the table with weapons across it.

“If you can manage it with your arm, this will be yours for the mission,” Yeosang explains. You examine the weapon before you, a basic military-grade sniper rifle. It isn’t much different than the ones you’ve used in the past, but this one has more intricacies and decorations. You lift it with relative ease, finding it surprisingly lightweight despite the size.

“It’s fine. My trigger finger still works just fine and that’s all I should need with this rifle.” You peer through the scope. “No fine laser tracking on the scope, but I’ll manage.”

“Well, that’s only because your job isn’t to kill anyone. Just to be on the lookout for people coming in and out of the warehouse.” You pop the clip cartridge as Yeosang speaks, finding it full of bullets. He catches your questioning stare. “With precautions, of course. It would be stupid to give you an unloaded gun.”

“It would be stupid to give a highly dangerous criminal her weapon of choice too, but here we are.”

Yeosang chuckles at your comment. “Remember that you are aboard a ship full of criminals. You couldn’t possibly take all of us on, so I think we’re opting for a safe bet in giving you a loaded gun. Maybe it’s just in our blood to think that way though.” The Elitist turns to San and Jongho. “Go ahead and board the transport ship. Jongho, you’ll take the primary pilot seat. San, take secondary.”

Jongho follows the order first, but San hesitates. After a slight roll of his eyes, he trails after Jongho and goes aboard the transport ship.

“And for you, Miss Y/N, I’ll take that off your hands for now.” Yeosang extends a hand in your direction. You push the sniper into his hands. He grins at your quick compliance. “Good girl. See, we can make you obedient yet.”

You bite down on your tongue to keep from lashing out in response. Yeosang notices your restraint and arches a brow at you, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

“I’ll gather the rest of the weapons and meet you on the ship. You can go ahead and board now.”

“With pleasure,” you grumble under your breath, but you make sure to say the words loud enough for Yeosang to hear.

The interior of the transport ship is compact and small, consisting of only two compartments: the pilot seats and a slightly wider and more open area meant for carrying soldiers. You see Jongho and San fiddling with the controls in the pilot’s cabin, but you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself now that you’re aboard. You seat yourself in one of the seats where you can peer into the cabin and watch them work. It’s a new territory for you as you’ve never piloted a ship this small before. You’re used to spaceships meant for doing small scale perimeter checks around a system and planets. Ships like these are definitely not your specialty, and you only remember riding one on a few occasions.

Yeosang steps into the back cabin after a few minutes, his long blonde flopping forward as he ducks to get in the door. He bears a hefty duffel bag on his back but drops it to the floor without a care as he turns to shut the door of the ship.

“Y/N, these are for you.” He comes closer to you, opening his palm to reveal a thin black wristband and a small grey device.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” You ask, blinking between the items and Yeosang.

“It’s a communication system that hones you into certain channels based on the frequency. The main channel is for all members of the crew, and its frequency is around 480. The one we’ll be using for the mission is 640. They’re paired with each other, so no one aside from us can hear our conversations.”

He sighs and picks up the small grey device first, leaning close to your ear without warning. You flinch away from him at first but he inserts the device with a surprisingly gentle touch. It’s snug against your ear and rubs awkwardly against the piercings decorating the shell of your ear.

“You seem to have a lot of piercings for a military person,” he comments as he pushes past the metal barriers. “It’s kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

“Focus on the task at hand,” you scoff. Yeosang chuckles to himself but does as told, thumbing over the material to make sure it’s secure in your ear. He slips the wristband around your hand, and it snaps to your wrist.

“To change the frequency just drag your thumb across the band and wait for this radar to pop up. Move left and right to find the frequency you want, and you’re good to go.” Yeosang swipes his index finger over the band and helps you set it to the desired frequency before pulling back. He raises his own wrist to his lips and speaks softly against it.

“Can you hear me?” His voice is loud and intruding in your ear, and a crackling sound follows his words. “Good,” he says as you grimace.

Yeosang moves towards the pilot’s cabin. You can hear him speaking to someone over an intercom and recognize the timbre of Hongjoong’s clear voice. You can’t tell what they’re saying, but Yeosang explains it when he returns.

“We’ll be landing soon. It should take around forty-five minutes to reach the outskirts of the warehouse.” Yeosang sits across from you, one leg coming to rest atop the other. His blonde hair stands out even more now that he’s dressed in all black, but that isn’t exactly what’s on your mind as you watch him closely. He notices your lingering stare and lack of response in an instant. “Is something on your mind?”

You purse your lips. “Why did you leave the military?”

Rather than words, Yeosang replies with a hearty laugh. You blink at him, thoroughly unamused by his answer, and that annoyance must read on your features because he explains himself after a moment. “You’re good at deflecting, I’ll give you that. To answer your question though, I didn’t leave the military.”

“That’s not possible. You couldn’t have gotten the chains without attempting to leave?”

“Do you know why they call me the Royal Betrayer?”

You freeze at the question. “I-I didn’t even – I didn’t know they called you that.”

“Well, it’s what they call me on Aera. I was tried for treason. I was going to be publicly executed for crimes against the crown and the Royal Guard, but I was able to get out of jail the night before my execution date. I got the brand that same night before I escaped.”

“How the hell did you escape? I thought Aera had one of the most protected prisons.”

Yeosang shrugs his shoulders, settling further back against the seat. “There just weren’t that many guards that night. I try not to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes. I just accept it and move on, so that’s exactly what I did back then too.”

“That doesn’t explain why they call you – wh-what, the Royal Betrayer?”

“Lots of people don’t realize that even princes and royals are capable of treason.” Yeosang glances off to the side, staring at the floor rather than at you. …a prince? Then –

“I’ve heard of you,” you say aloud. Yeosang’s lips quirk up into a smile. “W-Well, I’ve heard of a prince who betrayed the crown on Aera. His name wasn’t Yeosang though. It was Kang something…”

“Kang Minhee,” Yeosang says for you. “Yours truly. It’s amusing to think that if you had been on Aera rather than Eros, I could’ve been one of your targets if I had stayed there. Funny how fate chose for us to meet like this instead.”

“I wouldn’t speak too soon. There’s always a possibility of me putting a bullet in your before this is all over.”

“Before it’s all over? How do you think this is going to end, Y/N?”

He’s not talking about the mission; no, that much is obvious. He’s talking about your involvement with the crew, with Hongjoong, your stay aboard the ship, and frankly, you have no idea how to respond to him. You don’t know how it is going to end. You haven’t thought that far ahead, which is typical of you, but also just something that didn’t cross your mind prior to now. When you were stuffed in a crate, you thought of escape ten times over, but you haven’t once thought of it since then.

“Consider that food for thought. It’s time to head out now. Hongjoong just opened the hangar bay doors.”

✧✧✧

a/n: here we are nearing the end of act one!! i hope you all enjoy this chapter lots! it wasn’t too eventful but the real juicy stuff is gonna hit with the next part!

taglist: @faeriewoobin​ @sugarrimajins​ @atinyinwonderland​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin​ @jeong-uwu​ @jeonartemis​

rather than sending me a ko-fi, i ask that you consider donating to the BLM movement!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[idreamofplaid]

It Begins

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking for @spnkinkbingo & Singing Christmas Songs for @spnchristmasbingo

Characters: Sam x Olivia (OFC); Jensen and John mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Oral (female receiving)

Summary: Olivia is new to the marketing firm owned by John Winchester, and is surprised to be assigned to an important ad campaign for a high profile client. She feels like she’s in over her head with the work, but she’s in even deeper with the boss’ son, Sam.

Word Count:3781

A/N: This is Part 1 of a Series called Surrender to the Truth. It’s an AU mash up of RPF and SPN characters. I’m also playing with time. Imagine Season 8 Sam and Jensen a year or so into the future.

It was beta’d by the wonderful @fangirlxwritesx67. Thanks Viv for your patience with all my questions, your enthusiasm for this project, your thorough reading that really made me think about what I was doing, and the series title. 

Why were Mondays always like this? Olivia found it hard to decide what to wear after a weekend of being relaxed in pajamas and denim. Traffic was predictably the worst, even more so because of the holidays, and if there was any day she was going to forget and leave her coffee on the kitchen counter; it was Monday.

She made it to work on time with only a couple of minutes to spare. This was only her second week on the job at the city’s most up and coming marketing firm and being late was not the way to make a good impression on her new boss. John Winchester was a man with exacting standards and high expectations.

Her first stop was the coffee pot in the breakroom. There was no way her creativity was going to start flowing without caffeine. Cup in hand, Olivia made her way to her office. It was a respectable office, larger than the little more than a closet sized space she’d had in her last office. This one even had a small window. These things might seem insignificant, but Olivia had worked hard for them, and to her they were badges of success.

Olivia had barely had two sips of her vanilla creamer laced coffee when she had a visitor in her office, the kind of visitor who doesn’t knock: Sam Winchester. She hadn’t been here long, but she had been filled in on Sam. He was practically legendary among the women of the office, and some of the men. She took another sip of her coffee to hide the fact that her mouth had fallen open. This guy lived up to the hype. 

He was wearing a white dress shirt, minus the jacket, and the way his shoulders and chest filled out that shirt was nothing short of sinful. His tie formed a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, and the face above that tie was Greek god handsome. He was a Greek god with dimples.

As he walked across the room, his every move exuded power and privilege, without the arrogance. Holy fuck. Could a man be more attractive?

 He put a folder down on the edge of Olivia’s desk. Work. Right. He expected her brain to focus on what his family was paying her for.

She sat down to take a look at what was so important Sam Winchester himself had delivered it.  When he spoke, his voice was just as delicious as the rest of him.

 “New account. Dad wants you to take it.” He sat down smoothly on the edge of her desk to watch her look through the file like he owned the place, which he basically did. She finished looking through the file then looked up at Sam, more confused than ever. She was the new kid here. Why would they give her something this high profile, as in Hollywood high profile?

It wasn’t her most impressive moment or the most professional thing she’d ever said, but she blurted out, “Why me?”

Sam rested his hand on his thigh. The way his long fingers spread out over it wasn’t helping her concentrate or wrap her head around this situation. “Because you’re from Texas. Gives you insight into the culture, the vibe, the feel of it.” He stood and adjusted his tie, drawing your attention to his hands again. “This Ackles guy is a personal friend of my dad’s, so make it good.” As he left, he looked back over his shoulder. “Besides, everyone likes beer; you’ll come up with something.”

She said to the empty room, after he closed the door behind him, “No, actually I don’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a couple of minutes after Sam left, all she could do was stare at the nicely framed but generic artwork on her wall. The Winchesters were trusting her with a huge account for some reason, and she was scared completely out of her mind that she was going to screw it up and ruin her future with this company, along with her career in advertising. Why did it have to be beer? Finally, she opened the file and spread the pictures of the brewery and the photos of its famous owner across her desk. 

She picked up one of the glossy pictures of Jensen Ackles in all his male model perfection and took a good look at it. He was just as gorgeous as Sam, but his look was distinctly different.  His eyes were a clear green, and they held a deep intensity. Those eyes were captivating in a photograph. What would they be like in person? She allowed herself to indulge in that fantasy for a few seconds then shook her head to break the spell. She needed some Bailey’s in her coffee. Excellent idea. She was already walking a perilous line at this new job, so why the hell not?

Olivia swiveled her chair and opened the cabinet behind her, reaching into the back to grab the bottle of liquor where she’d stashed it. She poured a generous amount into her cup, hoping it would calm her nerves. With that in mind, she turned on some music. The soothing notes of an instrumental version of “White Christmas” floated from the speakers. 

She closed her eyes and let the taste of the coffee and the Irish cream sit on her tongue. This had been one of her favorite Christmas songs when she was growing up. It always took her to a fantasy wonderland, a place where life was ideal and Christmas cottages had perfectly trimmed trees with beautiful presents piled beneath them, fireplaces alive with glowing fires, stockings hung on the mantel, and snowflakes falling gently outside. Living in Texas, snow had been a magical and rarely seen event.

That long cherished holiday dream filled her mind and calmed her. She started singing along with the music. ...just like the ones I used to know.  After a stanza or so, she opened her eyes to focus once again on the pictures of the brewery in front of her. A snowy Christmas was her fantasy, but she had a job to do; that was her reality.

By the end of the day when Sam came back to check on her progress, Olivia had practically nothing to show him. It would do no good to try and stall or hide just how little she had managed to accomplish. He was her supervisor on this project, and he was here to see how much progress she’d made. 

He flipped through the work she’d done that day. His expression was unreadable, but his words were clear enough. “The Taste of Texas? Not exactly original is it?” He paused and cut his eyes over to her, then dropped them back to the papers he was holding. “The drawings aren’t bad though. We can probably use some of these hill country sketches. Maybe a logo design.” He closed the file and tossed it back on her desk.

 “Do you know what you need?” Her silence said she didn’t. “Inspiration.”

She put her hand on the folder lying on her desk, the one that represented her failed day of work. “Where do I get that exactly?” She was unable to keep a hint of exasperation out of her voice.

He flashed her those unbelievable dimples and winked. “Follow me.” Sam took her to his office. It was easily four times the size of hers with an entire wall of windows that revealed a breathtaking view of the city, the lights from the skyline competing with the white lights on the tastefully decorated Christmas tree that adorned his office. It was opulent and sleek, a space befitting the heir to the growing empire. 

She allowed herself to indulge in the breathtaking view of the skyline for a few seconds before commenting, “It’s an incredible view, but I don’t see anything about a family business in Texas out there.”

“Your inspiration isn’t out there; it’s in here.” His voice drew her eyes away from the magnificent view. Sam walked to his mini fridge and pulled out a six pack. He held it up. “A little Cosmic Cowboy from Family Business Beer Company. How can you create an impactful and memorable campaign without sampling the product?”

Sam twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her. She took a sip of it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one of those people who could describe the taste of beer. It was cold. It was beer. That was all she had. She was not a connoisseur. How was she ever going to do this ad campaign? She didn’t even like beer.

Sam had been watching her reaction carefully. Olivia didn’t have a poker face, though she’d tried to hide her reaction. It didn’t slip by him that she wasn’t comfortable with this beer thing. 

“Not your favorite then?” He took a drink from his bottle. “Taste it again.”

He was the boss’ son, effectively her boss right now, and this was her job; but she got the feeling she would have done whatever he asked even if that hadn’t been the case. She took another sip, and Sam coached her through it. “Think about what you’re drinking; savor it. Just like wine, beer has notes; and they’re all different.”

She took one more drink. “What am I supposed to be tasting?” She’d never been good with wine either, but once someone explained there was blackberry or oak or whatever in it; she could pick up on that. She needed Sam to tell her what she should be tasting.

“Do you taste how it’s substantial but still light?” She took another sip and nodded. “It’s the grapefruit and pineapple that make it light; the pine in it gives it a little something more.” When he said it, she could taste it. She could taste it all.

Sam’s office had a fireplace, not like the one in her fantasy Christmas cottage, but when he picked up a remote and clicked it bringing the flames to life, it was cozy nevertheless. Sam took off his tie and tossed it on one of the upholstered chairs in front of the fire. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Absentmindedly, Olivia took another sip of her beer while she watched him. 

Sam sat down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his back leaning against the leather sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. He put what was left of the six pack of beer down beside him and patted the floor on his other side, inviting her to join him. Olivia lowered herself next to him. She was thankful her pencil skirt wasn’t so tight that it didn’t allow some freedom of movement, and she tried not to stare at the way the firelight danced over his golden skin. He caught her looking at his strong forearms, exposed below the rolled white cuffs of his shirt. Sam smiled, a flirty and suggestive sort of smile. He finished the last of his beer, and popped open another.

Olivia was slower to finish hers, but she was beginning to warm up to the taste. Perhaps it was something you had to acquire, or maybe the company you were in made all the difference. Beer might be okay after all. 

He asked, “What do you think of it now?”

“I can taste everything you said.” The crackle of the fire, the lights from the Christmas tree, and the skyline in the background created a perfect storm of romantic atmosphere. Olivia noticed how Sam’s eyes were a beautiful honeyed brown, dappled with green and gold. His lips looked incredibly soft in contrast to the hard line of his jaw. He caught her starting again, this time at his mouth. 

He took her empty bottle and slotted it back into the cardboard square where it had originally been and put what was left of his beer in the empty square beside it. Sam turned back to her and leaned in closer. He took her face into his hand and looked into her eyes for a long second or two before he lowered his mouth to hers. 

The way he kissed was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. His tongue was sure but gentle as it circled hers. He had complete control of her through what his mouth was doing. A wet spot was forming in her panties, her body responding to him. At the same time his hand was cradling her face while his fingers moved slowly back and forth through her hair, massaging her scalp and melting her under his touch. He could do anything to her. She was eager for it.

He broke the kiss, and now he was holding both sides of her head in his enormous hands. His lips were still just inches from hers. She could feel his breath when he asked, “What do you taste now?”

This man could make her breathless. He was either meant for her, or he was excellent at reading her actions and responses. His attention was completely on her, waiting for her response. 

 “I...can still taste the beer, but the way you taste makes it better.” It wasn’t eloquent. For someone who worked with words to pull the maximum effect from them, he could make her forget how to use them properly. 

Sam kissed her again, hands roaming down her back and stopped just above her waist. “You know what else might really inspire you?”

Olivia pressed her body so tightly against his she could feel the muscles in his chest and stomach through his shirt. It made her wetter. “I have some ideas.” 

He took off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. “Then let’s get those creative...juices flowing.” The blouse she was wearing was form fitting. Sam’s gaze traveled over her breasts before his eyes locked onto hers.

 A spark traveled between them. Lust? Need? Want? Whatever it was, the sexual tension hung in the air for a moment before their lips crashed together. 

Sam lowered her to the floor while he pulled her shirt up. He broke the kiss to tear it  over her head and throw it out of the way. Now it was his turn. She took a fistful of his shirt and pulled it out of his pants, then did the same on the other side. He propped himself over her on his hands while she unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. She ran her hand across his chest and over his shoulder. What he’d been hiding beneath that expensive shirt was impressive.  

Sam smiled down at her. “You like?”

“Very much,” she answered while he took off her bra and lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. He teased it with his tongue until she was arching her back and raising her hips off the floor. 

Sam sucked hard on the nipple in his mouth before pulling off it. “Do you want more?” Her eyes closed and her lips parted, a small moan escaping from them. 

He unzipped her skirt and dragged it down her legs, then turned his attention to her lace covered mound. Sam rubbed his fingers over her panty covered core. “Already so wet.” He pushed her panties aside and swiped his fingers through her folds. Then he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked her juices from them. His eyes bore into hers. “Tastes so good.”

He tore her panties from her body to gain access to what he wanted; she heard the sound of silk and lace ripping. Sam’s hand felt huge on her thighs as he pushed them wide apart. He held them there, and his tongue found her clit. He sucked it the same way he’d worked at her nipple. 

She was raising and lowering her hips beneath him, fucking nothing and needing to be filled until Sam swirled his tongue all the way down her slit to her opening and thrust it inside. She wasn’t empty anymore, and it felt incredible. He moved his tongue in and out of her, fucking her on it until she was writhing and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. 

She wanted to scream but was still aware enough to know they were in the office building. So, with some effort, she held it in. But when he added the pad of his thumb circling over her clit while he continued to thrust into her with his tongue, she started to whimper and moan. Her thighs were shaking when she came on his face. He licked and stroked her through her orgasm until she went still beneath him.

Sam didn’t move for a few seconds, then he raised himself up so he could see her reaction to what he’d done to her, how it had affected her. Olivia smiled up at him, and Sam returned the smile while he unbuckled, unzipped, and pushed his pants and underwear down over his hips. If she’d thought what was under his shirt was stunning, what was under his pants was better. His cock was absolutely magnificent. It stood against his stomach long and thick, resting on his well defined abs. Sam caught her looking at him yet again, and his smile got bigger. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam lowered himself from his kneeling position until he was sitting on the floor. He pushed his pants farther down his legs to get them out of the way. He extended a hand to her, and she took it. He settled her on his lap. Olivia wrapped her legs around him. He looked at her with those beautiful eyes that combined colors in so many ways that seemed to change from moment to moment. “Do you want to go through with this? It’s not too late to say no.”

She squeezed her thighs into his sides. She was imagining the feel of his cock stretching her open. From the looks of him, it was going to be a tight fit. “I absolutely want to go through with this.” 

That was all he needed to hear. He took a condom from the wallet in the pants pooling around his ankles and rolled it down over his length. Sam put his hands on each side of her waist and lifted her up, lining her up over the tip of his cock.

When he started to lower her down onto his shaft, she rolled her head forward. Her hair brushed over his shoulder as he continued to slowly ease her down onto his length, giving her time to adjust to his size. Once he was fully seated inside her, he began to roll his hips. Oliva imitated his movements, rolling her hips with the same rhythm. 

She raised her head because she wanted to see into Sam’s eyes while he thrust up into her. There was something in the depths of them that she couldn’t quite define, something she wanted to figure out, something she wanted to understand and know better. He covered her mouth and kissed her with an intensity she could feel through her entire body.

His tongue was circling hers, tasting her, when she came again. Olivia clenched around him and her body spasmed in waves as her orgasm crested and blended into another. Sam kissed her all the way through it. She went limp in his arms, and he kept moving. 

She could feel his hands on her and the warmth of the flame from the fire on her skin. She could feel the way his cock throbbed, still buried deep inside her, and she could taste him. He pulled away from her mouth and buried his face in her neck when he came.  

“Olivia.” He said her name once, just the one word, and it struck her to the core. Olivia regretted that she couldn’t feel his hot release painting her insides. It felt like some part of him was being held back from her, and she wanted it all. 

Whatever magic she’d felt hearing the sound of her name on his lips dissipated with the reality of Sam pulling himself from her body and carefully removing the condom. He pulled his pants back up before walking over to his desk to dispose of it in the wastebasket there. Olivia imagined it wouldn’t be the first time the cleaning service found one of those in his trash. 

What was she doing? She just screwed the boss’ son in his office. She was a total cliche. Her mind told her she should feel like a slut, but she didn’t. She refused to be ashamed of what she’d done. The sex had been mind blowing; her body had never responded to any man that way. Sam had stirred something in her physically, but it had gone beyond that. It was something she would examine later and try to define, but now all she could think of was escaping the overwhelming thoughts and feelings consuming her. Hastily, she grabbed her clothes and was in the process of putting them back on when Sam returned. 

He took her hand and charmed her with his boyish dimples and his eyes that had turned a soft gray like the color of a sky lit by a silvery moon. Still, it was his words that got to her the most. “Hey, don’t be in such a hurry to leave; you’re going to make me feel cheap.” He was flirting with her. Guys like him moved smoothly through situations like this as though they were born to it, and in a way they were. Still, part of her hoped he was being at least a little sincere.

Sam hadn’t let go of her hand. “Stay with me. We can watch the fire, enjoy the lights on the Christmas tree.” This was a fling, right? It was a one night stand with the irresistible guy at work. “Plan our trip to Texas.” What did he just say? “A six pack is just an introduction to the business. What you need is to see the brewery.” 

Sam sat down on the sofa, and Olivia sank down beside him. She lowered her guard a little and let some of the bliss she was feeling wash over her. The ambience created by the light from the tree and the fire enhanced her mood; both the light and her mood seemed somehow softer now.

“We can take the company jet. Ring in the new year in Austin.” Listening to him, Olivia had a most happy thought. Maybe this wasn’t a one night thing after all. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @sammit-janet​ @idabbleincrazy​ @evansrogerskitten​ @focusonspn​ @autumninavonlea​ @spnxbsessed​ @durinsbride​ @deansyahtzee​ @waywardnerd67​ @fullmooner​ @julesthequirky​

[wakeupflawless]

Will we get the last chapter of pre-season soon?! I love it! Is there anything else you’re currently working on as well?

Hi Anon!!! I’m halfway through the last chapter of pre-season!!! Below the cut is a sneak peak ;) 

The men’s team has drawn a pretty decent crowd, Beth notices. Soccer didn’t get as much attention as football or hockey. Any spectator in the stands cheering for the women’s team was highly appreciated. 

She’s just in time for kick-off, and she holds her breath as she watches Rio saunter up to the center mark with all the arrogance in the world. It makes her smile, all his bravado. She could only hope that one day she exuded the same amount of confidence that he does. 

The men’s team had also only lost one game, same as the women’s, in a heartbreaking double overtime. Beth had been clenching her fists the whole game, biting her bottom lip and gasping each time a shot was taken. When the men’s team had stalked off the field, heads down, Beth wanted nothing more than to leap onto the pitch and give Rio a huge hug. But they still weren’t speaking, so instead Beth quietly slipped away. 

This game, Rio’s team dominates the pitch as soon as the whistle blows. She’s seen him play a thousand times, but she still watches in awe as he masterfully shifts and jives down the field, faking out defenders left and right, executing perfect passes to his teammates playing wide. 

Fifteen minutes in Rio scores the first goal, a truly beautiful kick to the top corner of the net, and the stands erupt in cheers. Most noticeably, from a family sitting a few bleachers down from Beth. She’s never seen them at games before, but it’s painfully obvious it’s Rio’s family, seeing as they’re all wearing homemade jerseys that don the name “Jimenez.”

[curiousconch]

Two Old Friends

Chapter 3 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU).

Catch up here: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter Synopsis: As Bryce takes Heather in, a facade that he has blocked out for several months begins to disintegrate.

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.3k+ | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: None for this chapter, it's pure fluff! (Yay!)

Author’s Notes: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. I was listening to Maybe this Time on repeat when I wrote this chapter, I think that song encapsulates it perfectly.

8 months ago

Bryce Lahela was stoked to have been assigned the Ed Farrugia case. He dreamt up of an opportunity like this ever since he graduated top of class from Stanford Law School. It wasn't out of self-ambition, it was part of his grand plan - to go opposite the direction of his white-collar criminal parents.

At first, Bryce's parents was overjoyed when he told them he's pursuing a law degree. It never occurred to them that it was all part of his scheme.

He soldiered on through law school, bagging an internship in the San Francisco DA. When his efforts to build his network provided an opportunity in Boston, he didn't hesitate to pack up his bags and fly across the country, farther away from Hawaii than ever. It was a big risk, but it eventually paid off given how his career imploded once he got the job.

But perhaps the most memorable experience was when he told his parents that he was to become Boston's newest ADA. They were nothing but furious, there were no counting the amount of expletives he heard that day.

No turning back, mom and dad.

The timing to tell them couldn't be more perfect, because it was only a week after they turned over his trust fund, a "graduation gift". He knew it was just a bribe for him to do the dirty legal work to keep them away from prison for free.

After toiling for so many years, he was more than ready to abandon his past behind and start his life over. More than it was revenge, it was Bryce's sweet and merciful justice. No more crosses behind his back, marking him as his parents' criminal son.

That wasn't his reality anymore. So he focused on work and did his best to shine. And shine he did. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was no longer a criminal. In an ironic twist of fate, he was the one putting people behind bars. And he relished in every win.

However, being the Chief DA's golden boy wasn't providing him the opportunity to build new friendships. Although he tried to make friends with his colleagues, he began to be seen as a threat. So for the first year in the big city, he spent his free time partying hard. With his quick rise to fame, everyone wanted a taste of the majestic Bryce Lahela. He didn't hesitate to throw himself into the throng.

And in that fateful sunny morning, he felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. He built the foundations of the State versus Perry case over the weekend, not even taking a single drop of alcohol. With the help of Agent Aveiro, he collected mountains of evidence for his breakthrough day at court. He knew his case was airtight. Today, he plans to put the cherry on top.

Pulling off his sunglasses and tightening his slick striped blue tie, he grabbed his suitcase from the passenger seat and got out of his car.

He strode into Edenbrook Hospital with confidence, getting glances from several attendings and nurses as he walked the hallways. He smirked at each of them back, wondering which one he should make of a mission after he wraps up this case. God, these doctors are hot, he thought, as he slid into one of the elevators. He punched 7, and the button lighted up.

Once he arrived at the right floor, he followed the directions pasted on the walls and eventually found the diagnostics team's office. As he neared the sliding glass doors, he heard an exchange of voices in rapid succession, as if they were discussing something important. As he raised his gaze through the glass, he saw two female doctors and two males. His eyes automatically landed to the young brunette, whose hand is on her waist as she listened intently as the others debated.

His brow quirked a little, a fit of curiosity fleeted through him. She was prettier in personal. Television didn't do her justice.

Immediately shaking off the unnerving attraction, he tapped gently on the glass door. All doctors turned to him. One of the male doctors with piercing blue eyes let him in, he later found out that he was the world-renowned diagnostician, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, the head of the team.

"ADA Bryce Lahela, I'm here for Dr. Heather Song?" he walked into the room exuding confidence, burying the distracted innuendos he was currently having.

In response, she moved forward and offered her hand, smiling brightly at him. "Dr. Heather Song, at your service. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Oh, I bet you do.

He answered mentally, stepping closer to look at her soft features. He took her hand and shook it, returning the warm welcome with a smug look in his face. He couldn't stop thinking about her ever since.

He spent almost the whole day with her, going through her testimony in detail. She spoke in a very confident manner, ascertaining every small observation she made about Travis Perry, and how he raised her suspicions. She also walked him through how she confirmed her theories, and how she decided to report this to the hospital's chief. He was amazed with the way how she mapped out every step, and acknowledged how her actions made the case straightforward and uncomplicated. Certainly controversial and sensational, given that it was involving one of Massachusetts' senators. But getting up close and personal with her that day made him realize that like him, she was at the top of her game.

She was professional and insightful. Bryce was also impressed with how she carried herself. Graceful and poised, yet fierce and tenacious. There were a lot of times that he thought he was hearing himself in the way she talked. And for that reason, he like spending time with her.

Over the course of the next few months, he spent more time with her. It was the perfect opportunity to keep in touch, as she was the star witness after all.

Beyond work, it was easy for him to befriend her. She was warm and open, sensitive and caring. Eventually, she introduced him to her exclusive group of doctors, who readily welcome him.

But he admired her more when she made it her mission to help him with his runaway sister. She went out of her way to spend time with her, bridging the gap between the siblings.

That was when he irreversibly opened up to her, telling her about his past. Making her see through him, who he really was.

And the way that she embraced it without inhibitions was a breathe of fresh air. He never knew he needed someone like her in his life, the one thing to complete his do-over.

It didn't take much for him to he admit to himself that he adored Heather. He felt a deep connection to her, something he never felt for someone else.

But in a sudden turn of events, the hopefulness he had turned out to be just a mere figment of his imagination.

He learned about her relationship with Rafael. Once he saw the way she looked at him, he knew it was time to draw the line.

Ever since, that was all he thought it would be between them - an unexplored and faraway frontier.

Gradually, his presence in her life became nothing more but group hangouts in the form of brunches or night outs in Donahues. He learned to withdraw whenever she and Rafael was around, cautious to not let others know about the way he felt. He himself went back to his string of one night stands.

He kept her at arm's length, repeating to himself that he was contented with the friendship that they had. Yet when he was finally learning to ease her out of his mind, she came crashing back in.

***

Present Day

With warm bowls of noodles in front of them, they caught up with each other's life. Bryce poured them both a glass of white wine to chase down the saltiness off of their taste buds.

"Hm, this certainly is an upgrade from that cheap bottle you had the last time," her mocking voice freed him from his thoughts. He grinned at her, leaning towards her.

"Oooh, I'm not liking your arrogance. Being junior fellow got in your head already?" he teased her, sipping from his own glass. "Has all of your student loans been paid off so you have spare money to buy your own fancy wine?"

"Certainly not. I think you're the one getting ahead of yourself, hotshot. That plaque hit you in the head and made you forgot that you're a just a noob?" Heather quipped back, her index finger pointing to the square-shaped glass on one of the living room shelves.

"Psh. It's not like my colleagues skip a day to remind me of 'my place'," his one hand mimicked air quotes, feigning a look of disgust, invoking a genuine laughter from her, her skin illuminated by the late afternoon sun as she glowed in delight.

They went at it as they ate, exchanging insulting banters, trying to one up each other as they went. It was just the way they were, at ease. Two old friends who loved their careers first, always putting their self in second place.

It was the first time in months that they were together alone, Bryce realized now how much he missed spending time with her.

He didn't want to spoil the mood, but he couldn't shake off his interest on what went down between Rafael and her. He waited a few more moments as they settled into a comfortable silence, running out of casual jokes to throw at the other. He drew a deep breathe, taking up the courage he needed to raise the sore subject.

"So, you and Raf huh?"

He saw her flinch and his heart irked a little. Her hand shivered as she set down the empty glass and grabbed the bottle of wine to refill it.

"He wasn't what I thought he was," she swirled the contents of her glass once it was full, looking distracted. "Apparently, it only took him less than a month to reveal his true self." Bryce nodded opposite her, as she shrugged casually. He saw her bite her lower lip, and instantly felt the hurt she was going through.

Without second thoughts, he approached her and opened his arms, inviting her in.

After a few excruciating seconds of hesitation, she finally leaned in and received his embrace, tears falling. She didn't think there was any left, but Bryce's offer of solace was a comfort she didn't think she needed. Her dams of pain overflowed once again, and with the horrible scare that happened this morning, her resolve to put up a brave face in front of everyone crumbled.

"You know I'll always be here for you, Heath," he whispered to her, his senses being flooded by the familiar jasmine scent of her perfume.

"I know, thank you for that," she replied in a hushed voice. "I'm just... just tired of it all, Bryce, I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't be. I got you."

He just held her, wishing so hard that one embrace can take all of her fears away. He closed his eyes, letting his beating heart speak for the rest of his unspoken emotions.

He tried to soothe her as he brushed her hair, rubbing the palm of his hand on her shuddering back. His grip tightened with her every sigh, pulling her ever closer.

For the first time in months of keeping his distance, the feelings he had for her, those he tried to bury deep within his heart, started to resurface. He was feeling the way he felt way back then.

In between her deep sighs and sobs, a flood of regrets raced through his mind. His chest constricted, as his thoughts lingered on what could have been.

If I hadn't left her alone. If I just fought for her the first time. If I just have been brave enough to let her know...

But he knew he couldn't what already happened define what should be and what it will be. Just like he dealt with his past, Bryce knew that with enough willpower, he can turn it all around.

He focused forward. A rush of possibilities, a promise of a future, it overwhelmed him.

Maybe this time, it'll be more. She's free now. Maybe now is a better time than before. Maybe now, it won't have to end. Maybe this time, he wouldn't need to let her go.

His heart burned with a fiery resolve and determination.

That late afternoon, when the setting sun's light began to shine upon his face, he decided.

Even the smallest of maybes was more than enough for him. Bryce was willing to risk it for her.

TAGS: @choicesficwriterscreations @ramsey-lahela

@eleanorbloom - I hope I'm doing Bryce justice 😬

[elmidol]

Where the Body Burns - Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Read Ch.3

(Banner includes art for fic by @clumsycopy )

[Inspired by Fix Your Attitude by @kylorengarbagedump and Keeping Your Promise by @strongtwiheart ]

Chapter Summary:   Kylo Ren reflects on your reaction to his proposal while on a mission with his Knights.

Words: 4,200

Chapter Warnings: Kylo's POV; spoilers for Rise of Kylo Ren comic; violence; minor gore; brief mentions of sex

Fealty

 Preoccupations with fear and envy had dissuaded Skywalker from offering proper training; such sentiments had been a burden on his parents wherein both Leia and Han feared his power and rage, while Han Solo was jealous of the Force connection that existed between mother and son. Kylo Ren had learned to embrace the effect he had on others. Using it to his advantage, the majority of First Order personnel refrained from pestering him with idle chatter or mundane news. They were terrified—rightly so, he mused—to deliver reports even when they possessed nothing negative. TIE Pilots, though braver, were rarely foolish enough to challenge him. He had thus been admittedly caught by surprise the moment Spacedust had stood her ground while openly challenging him. Through the Force he had felt that there had been nothing malicious in those actions. It had aroused his interest, luring him to play with her. She had stared unflinchingly into the visor of his helmet as her badge burned, as it cut into her lips and as the plasma blade of his lightsaber crackled. Still all he had sensed from her was curiosity coupled with the desire to prove her worth.

 A recent vacancy in his squadron allowed him to issue an immediate transfer. To test if he had made the correct choice, Kylo had permitted her a chance to prove herself. The joy that had rolled off of her when he reached through the Force had been contagious. Hedonistic bordering on suicidal. His intention had been to ensure that she would obey his command without question; had she disobeyed, he would have been again short one squad member. A new toy obliterated, which was preferable to losing his entire squad because of an arrogant pilot in their midst. Or, worse still, to lose to Snoke if his true goal were prematurely revealed. As he had tethered her with the Force, Kylo had discovered in himself a growing desire to play with her. Someone he could chase, someone with whom he did not have to hide the extent of his powers. It was invigorating, momentarily lapsing into a possible pipe dream when he felt from her a new wave of fear. How quickly that was again replaced with her anger.

 In the present, he felt a scowl forming on his features as his mind raced through the handful of interactions shared with Spacedust. She reacted well to competition and this should have been sufficient in ensuring that she was not dissuaded from accepting the mission that he had for her. It was perplexing that of all things for her to shy away from, it was the one that should have provided her the greatest thrill and offered her a sense of honor.

 Her helmet disappeared from his mind’s eye as Vicrul’s knee hit into his thigh. Kylo shifted his head with an acknowledging grunt of the fact that the Night Buzzard had arrived at its intended destination. Kuruk set the starship down on the planet’s surface without incident though the Night Buzzard remained vocal as it was wont to do. The ship did not rely on stealth; its occupants preferred to drive fear into others in place of remaining incognito. Null Seasta was not impervious to fear, however she less easily dissuaded from opposing others due to the vast influence she had accumulated over the years. Her death had not yet been sanctioned by the Supreme leader, otherwise Kylo would have been more than pleased to deliver it.

 Kylo rose in perfect unison with Vicrul the moment the Night Buzzard touched the earth below and before the ramp had a chance to descend. The phrik scythe was clasped firmly in the Knight’s hand much identically to how Kylo had also retrieved his lightsaber hilt from its normal position on his belt. They could sense the ripples in the Force that revealed the Night Buzzard had served its purpose of arousing attention. Kuruk and Ushar had already been assigned the task of remaining behind to prevent any tampering with their ship. Cardo, Trudgen, and Ap’lek filed out of the Night Buzzard in single file then fanned out behind Vicrul and him. Kylo felt a smirk threatening to form behind his mask. He could feel the bloodlust rolling off of his Knights as they found the various life forms within the Force. The malintent that pooled from their observers merely stoked the flames of their own hunger for a confrontation.

 The crackle of his lightsaber igniting sent a flicker of memory running through his mind. 

 “Of all the pilots the First Order has to offer, do you know why I selected you, Spacedust?” Her helmet dipped slowly, nearly hesitantly though it was apprehension she was exuding. A part of her understood him, accepted the reality of her presence in his quarters. It was not for the more carnal game that they had just shared mere moments before. He examined his lightsaber, raising it before his face and turning it on. Spacedust trembled as she beheld the way it tinted his face red. “You aren’t afraid of being burnt.

 Kylo split away from Vicrul, the pair moving in opposite directions to dissuade the use of heavier artillery that might have succeeded in injuring the group. This dissection of their numbers allowed Kylo and his Knights to more easily call upon the Force as the line of rudimentary projectiles began their descent. He swiped through the air with his lightsaber, slicing through those he had allowed to come nearer. Null Seasta had never been one to care if she needlessly sacrificed others. It was all for her own amusement. Kylo wondered at the fact that she was, surprisingly, not descended from a Hutt. The first to die was impaled on the end of Vicrul’s blade as the masked warrior foolishly launched themselves out from a hiding spot. Vicrul twisted the shaft of his weapon with his wrist, cutting through sinew and bone to free his weapon of the mangled corpse that sputtered blood.

 Red stained the dusty earth, leaking towards the patches of green that were sprinkled with tiny blue flowers. The first death summoned the recklessness of the others, who surged in waves. Kylo ducked easily under the first weapon—a club—aimed at his head. As he did so, he drove the tip of his lightsaber into the abdomen of the unfortunate soul. A single booted kick sent the injured humanoid to the ground like a limp ragdoll. Kylo stopped down on the mouth that had been unleashing a scream, forever silencing the cries of pain. Simultaneously, he gripped the next combatant by the throat with the Force, tugging them and impaling them. This one he cut in two, spinning his blade so that his swing sliced through the neck of the third. There had been fifty fighters from his estimation of concentrated energy in the Force. Vicrul had dispatched two. Cardo, Ap’lek, and Trudgen had each killed one while injuring others. A third for Vicrul.

 Again did Kylo find himself basking in the thrill of the moment; a competition. He sensed the nudge in the Force from Vicrul as the Knight looked his way. Kylo caught that masked gaze with his own visor, nodded, and turned away to meet the challenge, to win it. Another flash.

 “So many have already failed.” Her hands curled into fists and her apprehension morphed into frustration that he was being so cryptic rather than spelling out his desire. “Your ashes will join theirs if you do.” Her leg muscles tensed in that moment, as though she were ready to spring. Was this a desire to run away from the challenge, or towards it? He focused harder, immersing himself in the Force to unveil this mystery. Her curiosity was potent. “Snoke will order your death if he discovers what you are doing.”

 He could not commit to this task himself, nor the ones that would follow. Should the Supreme Leader sense his apprentice’s intentions, he would begin a counterstrike. In order to eventually defeat the manipulative creature that had been serving as his Master, Kylo Ren had to learn more, had to unveil the secrets that were being kept from him. Secrets known by the late Emperor. Secrets that Snoke and the First Order had inherited. They kept them locked away in places that his Knights could not reach. Only a First Order officer or pilot would be capable.

 A concussive blast sent rock and dust flying through the air in a congestion of debris. This was another benefit of wearing a helmet, the protection that it offered. Undeterred, Kylo utilized the distraction it had been for one unmasked enemy. He killed the man with ease prior to aiming for a pair that would perish together in a single blow. Null Seasta had to be exceedingly bored to have sent out such young pawns for disposal. Trudgen was not far behind in the challenge. Cardo and Ap’lek had the least amount of kills to their name thus far for this battle, however they had caused the most damage to their surroundings. Vicrul was one death behind, though if parties mortally injured were taken into the tally, he would soon be tied. Baring his teeth behind his mouthpiece, Kylo turned to the grounded enemy and snapped his neck. Vicrul swung around, flipping him off before calling on the Force to kill the next nearest enemy.

 “It is said that Skywalker took Darth Vader’s body to the Forest Moon of Endor and burned it there. Both he and his sister have claimed to have felt Anakin in the Force—a contradiction to other tales of Jedi becoming one with the Force.” Spacedust, unsurprisingly, did not grasp the entirety of his meaning. It was a mouthful, explaining this to one without the Force. Exasperating, and yet a necessity due to the threat of discovery. “There may have been a fissure in the soul of Anakin Skywalker, of Darth Vader. To master both the dark and the light sides of the Force… I need you to investigate this.” Only with the answer could he hope to successfully surpass Snoke when the Supreme Leader had silently made it known that he was not ready to complete Kylo’s training. He never would be either.

 “Why not—”  He once more applied pressure to her tongue, stilling it. She required only a moment of reflection before it dawned on her. Spacedust’s understanding hit him with a palpable shriek. Fear, one that he had only briefly felt from her when she had been floating in space after ejecting from her TIE, assaulted her.

 Kylo knew that she had viewed him as a sort of god, a kind of devil. It had instilled in her a devotion that vanished in that moment. He had been rejected before. By Skywalker and all others. By his own parents. He swallowed the anger that threatened to seep through his entire being. Instead he held out a hand to her. “Will you join me, Spacedust?” Placing her on a level closer to his own. Instead of an answer, she had gathered up her clothing. He had allowed her to do so, observing her every move as she left, afraid. A disappointment.

 The anger that he had swallowed down in that moment bubbled forth. It sent ripples through the Force. Kylo sensed his Knights reacting, each of them giving him more breadth to include Vicrul, who as a result was sacrificing his chance at victory in the challenge. He laid open his enemies with his blade and crushed more with the Force or else his fist. Breathing heavily, more from rage than exertion, Kylo walked through the gore of the battlefield in the direction he knew Null Seasta was waiting. She would be observing them through surveillance droids and other strategically placed cameras. Snoke had on a previous occasion encouraged Kylo—admonished him for thinking otherwise—to view these encounters as a part of his training.

 When at last he conquered the obstacles that stood in his way, that positioned Snoke as being temporarily essential, Null Seasta would perish as well. This thought assisted in calming him. As his mood grew less hostile, Kylo sensed his Knights converging to rejoin him. Ap’lek was now in lead. Vicrul had claimed second in the competition of kills with Trudgen as a close third. They murmured the strategies they had employed and muttered their grievances over having lost the chance to eliminate more of their enemies. Cardo, less involved in the conversation, lingered two feet behind the others.

 The overcast sky refused to yield rain as the planet on which he had found Spacedust had been in the habit of doing. The collected moisture instead grew into a dense fog the nearer to the fortress that they drew. Silence encased the Knights of Ren. The ripples in the Force had lessened in animosity. In its stead was an alternative darkness, the malevolence which Kylo was no stranger to. Weaponry failed to power on or target any one of them. Another sign that Null Seasta was watching, had chosen to use Kylo and his Knights of Ren as toys.

 Droid and human guards alike maintained their position in silent observation of his men crossing the threshold. They required no guide and one had not been provided in any case. Humans became less distinct, morphing into cyborgs or poor excuses for some the deeper Kylo journeyed. He felt the woman’s glee. Understanding dawned upon him, his suspicions that the cyborgs had surveillance units in their optics. Null Seasta was known to punish those who failed her by removing limbs that were later replaced, never with synth skin.

 The level of opulence in Null Seasta’s fortress became gaudy and exaggerated as one left the atrium and entered the great hall. She was not a subtle braggart. Purposefully placed trophies of art—statues and paintings alike, relics of the old Empire and times before even that—were strewn in a manner that for Kylo was reminiscent of vomit. A regurgitation of collections thrust into a single that could barely contain the plethora of works. At the center was a throne embedded with gems and upon which sat the woman herself.

 Hair twisted into an intricate style and framing her face in a manner that others might have found attractive, Null Seasta refused to hide the appraising look she graced each of his Knights with. Her gaze landed on one Knight in particular, her painted lips twisting upwards into a wry grin. “Cardigan,” she purred. Kylo remembered well in those subsequent seconds that he was not the only one who wanted to ignore Supreme Leader Snoke’s orders to leave the woman alive. Trudgen considered Cardo, whose frustration had struck each of them in turn; his bloodlust had spiked worse than when they had first arrived on the planet. It rivaled that of his own, Kylo mused, the one that had prematurely ended the challenge. Null Seasta extended a hand in Cardo’s direction as though she expected him to come forth and worship the limb.

 Instead Kylo sensed Cardo turn his attention to him. Ushar had declined to be the orator at this meeting, leaving Cardo to draw the short straw. Null Seasta reveled in the chances she had to toy with the humanoid; though she was unaware of his species, she had easily deduced from his breathing tubes that he was not human during their first meeting. Of all his Knights, only Vicrul considered Null Seasta with something beyond a passing interest or pure loathing. The collection of souls that he harvested to augment his own power translated into curiosity regarding the woman’s work with her cyborgs. It was Vicrul’s actions that had sparked the dawning of realization in Kylo that Darth Vader’s funeral had been, in many respects, contradictory with Skywalker’s teachings of Jedi becoming one with the Force. If a soul could be ripped from its body with the Force, surely severing it in half was a possibility.

 Vicrul spared Cardo the indignity of subjugation by slipping Null Seasta’s hand into his own and brushing the pad of his thumb along the backs of her fingers. He dropped the limb whilst stepping backwards. Null Seasta ran her tongue across her lips. A muscle in her face twitched, something she was incapable of concealing. Kylo inwardly thrilled at the sight. “Snoke has accepted your bargain. In exchange for artifact, the Knights of Ren will eliminate your foe.”

 That was a greater insult; that he was forced into a position of protecting this woman. Kylo felt his mind wandering once more to Spacedust. She was bold without being impertinent; she was in awe of him and his power. Null Seasta, on the other hand, wanted to be worshipped by him. Cardo curled his hands into fists at his side, the leather of his gloves creaking audibly. It drew a renewed grin from Null Seasta.

 “Excellent,” she said, steepling her fingers in front of herself. She had grown her nails since last they had seen her in person. A reminder that she had at one point proposed raking them down his back while he fucked her; not that he had touched her or ever would. His silence at her suggestion had at the time been the catalyst for her seeking affection from his Knights as a means of making him jealous. “Master Ren?”

 She wanted him to speak. Kylo tilted his head instead, enough to where his cowl and helmet would not obscure the action from her view. A second facial twitch. Cardosurreptitiously  reached out with the Force, brushing along the periphery of his attention to acknowledge the satisfaction he was receiving from Kylo’s resolve. He considered, when the time came, allowing Cardo to kill this woman instead while he sat back and observed. Perhaps he would sit upon her throne while she screamed and wept—Cardo would not show mercy with a quick death.

 Oblivious to these considerations, Null Seasta touched two fingers to strands of hair that outlined the side of her face. She twirled the captive pieces while meeting the gaze of his visor. “I forgot that you are limited on words.” She was not wrong, and yet the conflagration of hatred in him was more hungry than ever for her tongue. Kylo had spent what limited patience he had in speaking on Spacedust then his Knights. This woman deserved nothing. Her brow furrowed in faux consternation. Null Seasta waved one of her cyborg creations forward.

 The summons brought forth a being that might once have been beautiful by holodrama standards. One eye, the remaining eye, was a deep brown. It landed on his face alongside the dimly lit yellow optic. Her mandible, too, was replaced with durasteel. Cardo was enthralled by the cyborg; it was only natural given his affinity for repairing and designing gear worn by his fellow Knights. As the cyborg warbled out a madame, it coughed; organs, too, were frequent casualties to Null Seasta’s desire to punish others. Vicrul fingered his weapon. The muscles in his shoulders had tensed at the cyborg’s approach. They had each of them sensed it, the flickerings of Force sensitivity that existed in this creature.

 “Show them the recording.” Null Seasta clapped her hands together in unison with giving the command. There was no need for this display; Supreme Leader Snoke had been thorough in providing Kylo Ren and his Knights the details of their mission alongside showing the portion of the recording that had been sent to him. It was but another means of attempting to manipulate him into speaking.

 The dim light of the yellow optic brightened and turned blue, projecting a hologram that was displayed on the floor between Trudgen and Ap’lek where they could all watch. Instead of paying the recording heed—it was nothing more than the promise of death should Null Seasta refuse to yield a portion of her power to another of the planet’s powers that be—Kylo explored his memory of Spacedust. Her refusal to answer him, to accept his hand, was a fresh wound. It clashed with the desire he had sensed within her to please him. She had been bold in calling him an ass while tucking away his cock.

 He shoved that thought quickly aside, the phantom sensation of her touch sending a pulse through his veins. She had made him feel more powerful than he knew himself to be. Through her brashness and hero worship, Spacedust had given him a glimpse of life beyond Snoke. The knowledge that she would have died had she not obeyed him, the very fact that she had to trust him, all of it had been invigorating.

 In place of arousal, his hunger was one for blood as he strategically replaced Spacedust’s visage with Null Seasta’s. There would be no mercy for her nor her enemy, who was a thorn in Kylo’s side at present. It was admirable that someone had been bold enough to declare war on her. Yet foolish. He should have taken her by surprise.

 Tai’s neck snapped, causing Kylo’s heart to stutter in surprise. He had known that the young man he had trained with would perish, and yet…

 Ap’lek took a single step in retreat from the hologram, which was in the process of coming to an end. The nearer proximity brushed along Kylo’s consciousness in a way that informed him the other Knights were aware of the shift in focus. Killing Ren had been the precursor to his ascension as Master of the Knights of Ren. Besting Snoke was the next logical step. He wondered how the Knights of Ren would fare against the Praetorian guards that the Supreme Leader kept at his side. Ap’lek set the upper portion of his weapon’s shaft against his shoulder. Its metal tip hit with a resounding tink on the floor.

 “He’s not unfamiliar with the Force,” Null Seasta said in the subsequent quietude. A puff of air escaped through his lips. It crackled along his vocoder and offered Null Seasta a small victory. She greedily lapped at it, straightening her posture and pushing her chest forward. Vicrul’s helmet dipped towards her lap instead. Kylo knew that his Knight was imagining slicing up the length of her body. This was a common game for them, to determine how many openings she gave to kill her. This arrogance did offer more than passing entertainment. He and his Knights studied such behavior to later implement the strategies on other foes. Snoke, too, had a habit of giving openings, or pretending to. None were so obvious as what Null Seasta did next by reclining in her throne and tilting back her head to expose her throat. “He knows how to counter it.”

 Trudgen set his vibrocleaver at a different angle. “There are other ways to kill a person.” The Knights were growing just as frustrated as he was that Null Seasta was needlessly dragging things out rather than divulging the location of their target. She pinched her lips together. Her desire to be worshipped was mounting.

 She wants us to praise her for discovering the artifact, he noted. It was not going to happen.

 “It is not only killing him that concerns me,” she began, irritation dripping into her tone. Too bold, viewing herself as superior to the Knights of Ren. “A counterstrike may include going around your enemy. Splitting your forces and killing your target as well as those she sends to protect her.” A scenario he, too, had considered. Kylo had entertained the notion on the way to the planet. Returning for the artifact to find Null Seasta dead. It was one mission failure he would not have been entirely opposed to if not for having to put up with Snoke’s reprimands that would be sure to come. Null Seasta smiled widely. “Perhaps Cardigan can remain here with me.”

 Kylo turned his head in perfect timing with Cardo, the pair meeting one another’s stare. If given the command, Cardo would obey. You’re an ass, Spacedust’s voice said. “We’ll take our chances.” A minor victory for the woman, whose face contorted in unadulterated rage at his response. The Knights of Ren did not question his orders while on missions; they were among the few who were not replaceable pawns, and he would give them no reason to change their allegiances.

 “You’re an ass.” The words echoed through the chamber as Kylo and his Knights turned to leave in pursuit of their target. 

 He paused in his steps. The words sounded better spilling from the lips of his new TIE pilot. Kylo fingered the hilt of his lightsaber as he imagined the delectable sounds Null Seasta would make if he seared her tongue with its blade. That mental image, too, paled in comparison to the sights provided by Spacedust. Her staring defiantly at him as the ID badge burned away, taking her name with it. His lightsaber inside of her as she squirmed on his lap. In that moment he knew he would convince her to join him, even if only to fuck her after he killed Snoke and Null Seasta with the weapon that had been inside of her.

[bakudekuficlibrary]

Do you know any typical American high school au bkdk

hello there! They have finally arrived and because of this list now I know something I didn’t think I needed in my life: Kirishima with braces! Cutest picture my mind has ever created 😭❤ thank you anon

- Kris ≖‿≖

1 Series. 14 Works.

You’ve Got Me In My Feelings  by karmaticinstitution( E | 4524 +| 1/3 )

In which Bakugou is a nerdy jock who acts like he’s badass, Izuku is the new kid and collects everyone’s hearts immediately. They start off a little wobbly, hookup, and things get a little messy. 

[Underage]

drive-by by infernalangels( E | 12,661+ | 4/? )

He should’ve never let Uraraka drag him here. The whole place reeked of beer and gasoline, drunken laughter breaking out from the group of boys he and his best friend approached. Izuku honestly didn’t know why he’d come. Signing, he began to follow Mina, silently praying he wouldn’t regret this.

Oh, he had no idea.

or: Katsuki Bakugou is everything Izuku Midoriya despises: a tattooed covered badass who takes no shit from anyone. He’s arrogant, rude, addicting… Maybe that’s why Izuku can’t stay away.

Even Deku Can Beat You (And Yeah, He Can Beat Me, Too) by brichibi ( E | 6,056 | 1/1 )

There’s an entire library of proper responses for this moment. Katsuki effectively incinerates them all when he laughs like he’s watching a comedian at work. “You wanna go against me? Me?! Come on, at least start with someone less skilled like-”

“Like you.” It comes out so smoothly from Izuku’s mouth. He can’t believe he’s actually said something so scathing. That’s not like him at all, but damnit, all he’d wanted was to spend quality time with his blockhead boyfriend, you know?

[AU where the arcade is the place to be, “Plus Ultra” is the hottest fighting game in town, Bakugou’s bad at boyfriending, and Izuku’s ready to KO his ass into the next century]

Not Another High School Au by MellowWrites                     ( M | 41,443+ | 5/? )

Izuku has been in love with the same guy for years, and no amount of bullying or warnings from friends will get him over this near obsession. Meanwhile, his best friend has been crushing on the girl of his dreams since middle school, and unluckily for Eijirou, she’s dating an asshole.

The same asshole who Izuku is pining after.

[Underage]

[Abandoned] Senior Year by Mizzi( E | 5,263 | 2/? )

The stupid american High School au.

wow my boys are in love

Maybe A Cinnabon Is All That’s Needed To Fall In Love by AllMightsRightHand19. ( E | 46154 | 17/?)

Izuku is just an ordinary gay high school student who wants more than anything to find love. However, he is very self-conscience and is constantly bullied. The only thing that keeps him going is his friends and job at his mother’s bakery.

One day at this bakery some blonde boy with deep red eyes comes in and Izuku is immediately captivated by him. Who knows maybe a Cinnabon is all that’s needed to fall in love.

[Underage]

Life at Age Thirty: Memoir by Infuzion                                        ( E | 17,517 | 6/ 6 )

It started in high school and became so much more…Katsuki Bakugou reminisce how he met Izuku Midoriya.

Twenty plus years since the day he met Izuku. He was thirty now, the best man to his best friend’s wedding, and living with the love of his life. It was perfect.

Perfect Recipe by Eggs_in_a_cloud( T | 1909 | 1/1 )

Kacchan looks at his mom and frowns.

“What the hell? Don’t pretend to be that kind of mom, old hag. We know you just brought that shit to spy on us.”

“Why you damn brat…! I wasted my time slaving over the fucking stove and that’s what you have to say to me?!”

Kacchan looks at the food with disdain. “Those are fucking box cookies!”

“Well someone had to make the fucking hot cocoa, didn’t they?!” The tray and its contents slosh dangerously.

Prequel to ‘Fairy Kisses’.

SeriesPart 2 of the Inseparable

Bring It On by theskywalkerkid ( M | 10631+ | 7/? )

“That’s great dude, watching you guys perform takes my breath away. Seeing you do all those flips and being flexible, I could only dream of it. Like when you did those backflips and landed into the splits, I was totally taken by surprise. I bet Katsuki likes that you’re flexible.”Izuku stopped walking and his mind tried to process what he just said. “W-what?”, his voice cracked.Denki paused giving him a curious look, “are you two not…like you know…you guys have done it right?”Izuku feels his face turn bright red, he can’t believe that he was just asked that.

A High School AU that needed to be written.

The Pocky Game by rekamohcs  ( M | 4981 | 1/1 )

As if Izuku didn’t have enough trouble keeping his intruding feelings for his unfairly attractive best friend at bay, Ochako had to go and teach him about the Pocky Game. Now here he was, his lips wrapped around one end of a chocolate stick, while Katsuki’s wrapped around the other, faces mere inches apart.

And they were both too stubborn to back down.

Izuku had a feeling he knew where this was headed.

(He made a mental note to remember to thank Ochako later.)

Dance, Baby! by hottamale ( G | 2283 | 1/1 )

He was all straight lines and sharp edges, and Izuku found that his intensity could impale him and leave him for dead but he’d still pine for him. He just exuded an obscene amount of confidence that Izuku didn’t have, and it was incredibly attractive as much as his overly cocky attitude wasn’t. But who was he kidding, his cocky attitude was attractive in its own right. There was no going back for Izuku, he was already too far into it for there to be anyone else but Katsuki.

SeriesPart 4 of  It’s a Concept

[Series] American AU by pemfrost ( M&G |  12,311+ |  2 Works | WIP )

One Room Away by Logsnake ( M | 14,783 | 1/1 )

Yesterday Izuku’s mother married Mitsuki Bakugou. Tomorrow the two leave for their honeymoon. That means Izuku has exactly a week and a day to get on his new (not so pleasant) step-brother’s good side. He will make Katsuki like him. He will not put any strain on his mother’s new marriage. Yep. A week and a day to become brothers with a complete asshole. Just brothers.

(Or: the step-brother one-shot that made me realize I can’t write romance. I published it anyway. 😎 No regrets)

[kylo-ren-writes]

Falling

Masterlist

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Request: @darlinguris requested:

“Okay okay okay so I have this idea and I feel like you’re the only one who can do this: a Kylo x Reader where Ren is Supreme Leader and the reader is the leader of their planet (one the First Order needs to make an alliance with) and they fall for each other and just fluff fluff fluff! (Crossing my fingers that this hasn’t been done yet but if it has, I have another idea!)”

Warnings: Does this count as fluff?; Kylo is kind of an arrogant dick, but a cute one; I usually try to kind of make these fics gender neutral, but this one is more femme oriented; Steve Rogers: language!; (bad) sexual innuendos

A/N: I really don’t like how this turned out, tbh, but I hope you like it anyway! Lol. Also, this gif might look obnoxious on desktop, but whatever, I just wanted the close up of Kylo’s mouth. Fuck it’s mesmerizing.

It was no big deal, nothing grand, nothing.

It was just another meeting with the generals of the First Order, discussing the requirements of your alliance together and the benefits both sides would get.

The meeting would be boring and tasteless, and really not something you had to worry about or even actually attend. After all, you had your own generals and officials that were more than willing to be the face of the arrangement for you.

But it was important to you, that this alliance with the First Order went well. It was important to you that you continued to make a good impression and work closely with the Supreme Leader. Very important, actually. So very important that the actual contents of the meeting itself weren’t even close to your mind.

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was, however.

He was the newly crowned Supreme Leader, taking after his master, Snoke, after suffering such a harsh blow from the rebel band Resistance (who you were not loyal to in any way).

Kylo Ren was a force to be reckoned with, gifted in his abilities within the force and ruthless in his quest for power and famous fits of rage. He was all mass and took up plenty of space in both height and width, and suffocating presence. His unstable tendencies made him recklessly dangerous, but he had the regality of an aristocratic prince. Kylo Ren was intimidating, dressed in all blacks and greys with a natural brooding glower that could kill.

This man was everything and more, and even though the galaxy feared him, you were hopelessly in love with him.

No, this meeting with his generals and himself was nothing, big, grand, or of the sorts; simply just a decadent bow on an otherwise perfectly wrapped present. 

But the meeting was far from your head.

The scandalous affair was new and had happened very quickly, the attraction between you sparking instantaneously like two faulty wires meeting.

You smiled fondly while thinking of the first time you met, at one of the magnificent galas the First Order had thrown after it’s rebirth. It had been a masquerade event, where you could hide behind a mask while you kept up your polite appearance. You hadn’t wanted to go, but your advisers insisted otherwise, informing you respectfully of the pros and cons of attending.

Of course there were mostly pros and hardly any cons. Naturally.

The First Order was strong, ruthless--like its leader--and could provide resources and protection that your planet could always benefit from. It was wise to attend, and a wise ruler you were.

The two of you had been drawn together, like moths to a bright flame, gravitating towards one another without really knowing who the other was. At first, anyway. It wasn’t hard to discern who the tall, dark, and handsome man was as the night went on. And by then, he had completely stolen your attention.

From there was where it all began, and now you were here, months later, conducting an alliance with the very same man just so you could see him more frequently. But it was a good alliance and your people, and his, would profit greatly. You had at least made sure of it after your guilt tormented your head.

But now you would get to see him. It had been too long since the last time, and the time in between was enough to give you nerves over it. So you’re wearing your best dress, the one you reserved for special, political events, and your stylists have already done up your hair and painted your face.

Hair swept away from your face, tumbling down in a thick, delicate braid down your back, just how he likes it, with a perfect red lip as the only source of colour on your face. He likes you looking natural, but blood red is one of his favourite colours. It should be eerie to you, but you’re just happy to please him.

When one of your advisers, a small, lithe little thing, knocks on your door twice and informs you that it is time, you stand from your vanity, facing the mirror with one last hardened look. Not only are you flawless, but you have a strength that demands respect from all.

Once out of your room, you lift your chin up high and glide down the hall, flanked by guards and staff, and your nervous little adviser. You only need one for today.

Everyone is waiting for you when you arrive to the large room reserved for meetings, and they stand out of respect, but you couldn’t give a damn about them. Your gaze is already turned onto the only man in the room that matters, where he stands at the farthest end of the long table.

Kylo looked breathtaking, like he always does, expression drawn into a natural scowl and a searing gaze that could cut through durasteel. Right now its cutting through you. 

He truly takes your breath away, and, if it weren’t for the matters at hand, you could stand there all day, gazing at him.

With the everlasting grace you exude, you glided over to the other end of the table, your end, where your familiar generals stand around. You nod at everyone once, and then collectively sit down. Your gaze hasn’t departed once from the volatile Supreme Leader at the other end of the room.

General Hux, a pasty, lanky general speaks up first, and you’re forced to turn your gaze to him out of respect. He always is the first one to speak. It’s annoying really, but it comes with the arrangement. But Kylo’s gaze is on you. He couldn’t care less for those formalities, nor does he carry the same amount of respect for the general as you do. He’d told you so in private once.

As the general drones on in his speech, your gaze does wander, back to the Supreme Leader.

Your inappropriate lover smirks at you when your eyes meet his.

No one in this room is oblivious to what is going on between the two of you, but no one has the authority or courage to speak up about it. You couldn’t imagine what Kylo would do if someone did. Although you would love to see them try.

You give Kylo a determined look while pretending to not look him over. It really has been too long since you’ve seen him, but he looks the same: pale complexion, accentuated by the dark circles that sit underneath his eyes, and dark hair that hangs by his face in styled waves. You can’t make out the colour of his eyes from where he sits, but it doesn’t matter, they’re imprinted in your mind.

Kylo leaned to the right, resting his chin in his large paw of a hand hand as he placed his elbow onto the arm of his chair. He looked cold and calculated. Or like an arrogant bastard that knows the power he has over this room. Over you.

But you have a reputation to uphold, and uphold it you do. Formalities are kept intact and you try your absolute best to only look at Kylo Ren when needed. He doesn’t extend the same curtesy, however, and by the end of the meeting, you can feel the tension in the room.

He’s frustrated. He wants to see you. Alone.

Standing up, pleasantries are kept up and you continue ignoring the Supreme Leader as you thank everyone for the productive and civil meeting. He can wait, he’s sure kept you waiting all these weeks.

After gracefully and unhurriedly walking out of the room, you released an excited breath. He was here, and he would come to you.

You hurried back to your room, dismissing your adviser and guards, and slipped inside, shutting your door behind you.

During the meeting, you had kept yourself calm and collected, teasing Kylo with your faux lack of interest in him. But really, you had wanted to kiss him. Run straight into his arms and kiss him, pretending that there wasn’t a room full of military generals that would disprove. You had sure dressed up for him.

Now you just had to wait for him. But waiting was hard and you were already so impatient to see him.

So you paced. Back and forth, the length of your room near the end of your bed. You wrung your hands together and kicked off your shoes, trying not to worry your lip between your teeth so as not to disturb the red lipstick. The vanity was still messy with all the products that were on your face now, so you checked yourself over, touching up anything that needed to be.

Then finally, but not soon enough, came three raps on the bedroom door.

You turned towards the sound, staring at the painted wood dumbly before lifting your chin and striding over to it. Inhaling a breath, you turned the knob and opened the door.

Chest. You were met with darkly clothed, hard chest. A familiar chest. Your gaze traveled up, up until it landed on a face, a handsome face. His face.

You couldn’t stop the smile from brightening your face or the squeal from escaping your upturned lips as you threw yourself at him. He was here, Kylo was finally here.

Thick, muscled arms wrapped around your waist and back as you wrapped your own around his neck, pressing your mouth against his in a hard kiss. His mouth was anything but, pliant lips that were just as soft as you remember. Your red lipstick be damned.

Kylo held you against his body, lifting you up off of the ground.

As you kissed him, you could feel the both of you moving, backwards for you, back into your bedroom. The sound of a door closing, not very discreetly, could be heard as well. But you barely processed it.

Lips moved against yours and Kylo growled into your mouth. The sound was similar to a groan, and you knew that he had missed you just as much as you had him.

“Kylo,” you panted, breathless as you pulled your mouth away for air. He’d stolen all of it, right out of your lungs. There wasn’t a thing that this man couldn’t take.

His golden brown eyes gazed into your own and his mouth curled up into an arrogant smirk. “Missed me, have you? How precious,” Kylo mused.

Scowling up at him, you tugged on a lock of his dark hair, but he didn’t budge. “Don’t be so pompous,” you complained as you mindlessly ran your fingers through his hair. He leaned into your touch.

“But you have missed me?” He drawled. 

You hadn’t even noticed where he was taking you until he dropped you onto your bed. You fell onto your back and he quickly crawled up your body, hands creeping up your sides. His touch made you shiver.

“Kylo!” You huffed irritably.

“Is that a yes?” He tilted his head, eyes roaming over your figure.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed again. “You’re such a--”

Kylo cut you off with a kiss, his large body pressing into yours. Your reaction was instant, kissing him back like your life depended on it. A moan slipped past your lips and into his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours at the opportunity. The kiss was home.

He still annoyed you though, so when he abruptly cut the kiss way too short, you glared up at him.

Kylo shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just, I like you better when you’re not talking.”

Your lips parted. You could slap him. “Dick.”

“Are you asking?” He smirked, giving you a knowing look. He was so forward, it made your face heat up. Both flustered and annoyed.

When you’re annoyed expression didn’t falter, Kylo hummed softly. “I’m just teasing.” He placed a large, gloved hand on the side of your face and his lips on the other, pecking your skin.

“You’re not teasing, you’re being an asshole.”

You could feel him smirk against your skin. “Both,” Kylo mumbled, lazily pressing kisses over your face.

“A supreme asshole.”

Kylo chuckled, low and gentle, his warm breath fanning your skin. The sound of it made you unwillingly smile, frustration forgotten.

“With an equally supreme dick.”

This time you laughed, unable to help yourself from his bad joke.

Kylo nosed at the underside of your jaw, mouthing at the soft skin there.

You lightly scratched his scalp. “You are so full of yourself.”

Kylo tilted your head back, following the juncture where your head meets your neck up to your ear. “Hmm,” he hummed, almost thoughtfully, “not as full as you’re going to be with that smart mouth of yours.”

The innuendo made you smirk and rub your thighs together. You shivered when his teeth scraped at your earlobe, words drying up on your tongue. He sucked on your earlobe, and you barely noticed the earring was no longer there.

You moaned, a low, throaty sound whispered past your lips. Fingers tangled into your hair, tugging on the roots of each strand. But you didn’t mind.

“I missed you,” you muttered out loud as your hands roamed over his shoulders, hugging him to you. His body was large and heavy over yours, but it was a familiar comfort. A wanted one.

“Finally,” he breathed, breath hot on your ear, “something worth hearing from your lips.”

This time you growled, delicate hands tugging on the hair at his nape. A warning.

But Kylo ignored it, or rather, he enjoyed it. “But do say more. I’m sure you’ll soon have your lips wrapped around my--”

“Kylo.” Your face was warm and no doubt red, his words always leaving you flustered.

Chuckling, Kylo lifted his head, raising a dark eyebrow as his eyes bore down into yours. He was always so intimidating. You didn’t miss how much redder his mouth was, too. From your lipstick, no doubt.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a rather big mouth?” You weren’t upset or annoyed. You had missed him and everything that came with.

Kylo quirked a brow, amused. “No one would dare.”

The bastard gave you the smuggest look he could muster, and you’ve never wanted to smack him upside the head more.

Shrugging, you stroked the side of his face, tracing your finger under his jaw. “Not to your face.”

“And what do you say behind my back, little flower?” Kylo narrowed his eyes, amused still.

You shrugged, smirking. “Nothing. There isn’t much to talk about.”

Kylo growled, and soon he was assaulting your neck with his mouth. You squealed, fingers gripping into his shoulders as his tongue lapped at your throat, imperfect teeth scraping against your delicate skin. It tickled. He had you pinned beneath him, unable to get away from his assault. Not that you actually wanted to.

However, his attack quickly grew merciful. Soft lips peppered your neck with light kisses until you felt his nose nuzzle into it instead. His head rested on your shoulder and your giggles seized.

Eyes fluttering closed, you scratched his head with blunt nails, raking your fingers through his soft locks. Brushing the chin length hair back. This was comfortable, him on top of you, hard yet soft. Silent.

The silence between you was comfortable.

You loved him.

[texastheband]

Sharleen blows her cool

By Nick Duerden Taken from Heat Magazine - 11-17 November 1999 

She's our most succesfull pop star and she gets to cavort on beds with male models. So why is Sharleen Spiteri in a bad mood? "Fucking flu" she tells Nick Duerden.

It is a cold, crisp day in the north, and Sharleen Spiteri is suffering from a lack of sufficient sleep. Last night's hotel had an air conditioning system that didn't know its hot from its cold. So the Texas singer tossed and turned throughout the night, one moment sweating, the next freezing. "I thought I had the fucking flu or something," she says.

Nevertheless, she looks delightfully rumpled today in the kind of manner only ever truly achieved by the rich and famous. She strides into a Manchester eatery under an artfully created birds' nest of black hair, and is wearing worn Jeans that are decadently fashionable and, doubtless, very expensive. She is the liveliest of company, picking delicately at a plate of hummus, but insisting on a plate of sausage and mash for heat as a hangover cure. Mash, it seems, is good for soaking up alcohol in the stomach. "You're bringing out my maternal side," she says. Later, she will reveal a fondness for Robbie, and refer to his one time bandmate Gary Barlow as "fuckface". Apparently, on an Italian pop show recently, he accidentally cracked her head open with his guitar, then blamed his attendant security. "If it wasn't for them," says the woman who stands at 5ft 5", "1 would have had him." Texas are here in Manchester halfway through a sold-out UK tour to further promote a very succesfull album. Following the four-million-selling, career-saving White On Blonde, The Hush has already shifted over three million copies in just six months. They are one of Britain's biggest bands, about to set their sights on America which they confidently believe they will crack. This is all a very different story from just three years ago. Back then, Texas were on the brink of ruin. Their record company were threatening to drop them, and they themselves were considering splitting. Since the top ten success of their 1989 debut single, I Don't Want A Lover, and the album Southside, Texas had been on a gradual downward slide. Their second album, Mothers Heaven, performed disappointingly, and very few people even noticed when they released a third, Ricks Road. With the exception of France, who still considered them splendid, Texas were uniformly regarded as a band dull enough to render even Del Amitri as rock gods. But then a very peculiar thing happened. Texas became hip, seemingly overnight. Purportedly steered by her journalist boyfriend, Ashley Heath (then editor of fashion magazine Arena Homme Plus), Sharleen became a sex siren, the band's sole focal point, and someone most adept at pouting provocatively before the camera lens. While the often exotic photo shoots looked like she was selling perfume, she was in fact selling the band. It worked wonders, too: suddenly, Texas were everywhere. And now look at them. Huge. Sharleen Spiteri, svengali boyfriend loitering somewhere in the shadows, has mounted the most successful make over in recent pop history.

How does it feel to have sold upwards of seven million albums in less than three years? How does it feel? It feels very secure. [Laughs] But I also feel incredibly grateful for it, because we were lucky enough to get a second chance. That doesn't happen much these days. I still find it hard to believe that we broke big on our fourth album. Nobody from the record company will admit to it now, but even when we delivered Say What You Want (White On Blonde's first single), no one was particularly impressed. We loved it, but I think they were simply no longer interested in us. It was like they were waiting for the record to fail so they could get rid of us. Instead, however, we sold an obscene amount of albums and suddenly they love us. I tell you, becoming very successful gives you an awful lot of power. Why was the album such a success, given Texas' then somewhat dull image? Simple: because it was a great record. We'd made the best music of our lives, and people were responding to it. The image reinvention certainly helped though, didn't it? I find it funny the way people are so obsessed about my supposed "reinvention". We've been around for ten years, so of course we're going to reinvent ourselves. It's called progression. True, but the suddenly glamorous image seemed very calculated towards making you quickly famous. Everyone is convinced that the record sold because I draped myself all over the press to plug it. In actual fact, I didn't start appearing on magazine covers until the second single, Halo, was already in the charts. We were becoming successful, so there was a demand for interviews, and I gave them. Were the rest of the band happy to take a step back? Absolutely. It took all the pressure off them. Let's face it, an attractive woman in a band is a pretty effective focal point. We were convinced we'd made a great record - the best of our career - and we wanted people to hear it. And the way to do that is to promote it. So I did. Is it true that your boyfriend had a guiding hand in the makeover? Not really. Obviously, having a boyfriend that works in journalism helps to give you an insight into how the whole business works, but I used to be a hairdresser, so I know a fair bit about image myself. We did talk about how to present ourselves because we knew that initially people wouldn't be interested in Texas and we wanted to change their minds. The whole music business Is a game in that respect, and we played it. Wouldn't you have done the same? Wouldn't anyone? Had you always wanted to be famous? No, never had. Still don't, in fact. I've never been bothered with it, to be honest. It doesn't interest me at all. Anyone can be famous. You can be famous for wearing high-heeled shoes, or blowing off presidents. I want people to say I'm a great singer, a great songwriter, that's all. If I simply wanted to become famous, then I would have got my tits out long ago. And I never have. Never will, either. Did it ever feel slightly foolish to be rolling around on exotic beaches like a supermodel merely to sell a band that used to wear woolly jerseys and hobnail boots? No, I had a great time, and they're great photographs. I'll keep them forever and show them to my children so that they can be proud of their mother. Everyone likes to look good in pictures, and those pictures make me look fantastic. Ten years ago I was very selfconscious about the way I looked, but I'm almost 32 now, and I've accepted that I've got a giant nose and other blemishes. But am I going to get major surgery? Nah, fuck it. I'll just ask photographers not to accentuate it and to light me in a flattering manner, that's all. Subsequent collaborations with Rae & Christian and Wu-Tang Clan also seemed like a very determined effort to suddenly become chic. Were they? I met Rae & Christian ages ago through my boyfriend, and I spent years namechecking the Wu-Tang Clan because I was a fan. Both came to work with us because they knew we were good at what we did musically. I've never been interested in being chic or trendy or cool. I just want two things: to make good music and work with people I admire. Did any members of the WuTang Clan come on to you? [Aghast] Absolutely not! But I know what you mean. If you put any man or woman in a room together there's bound to be something, some kind of spark. When they were first told that we'd love to work with them, they were like [adopts cheeky American drawl], "Hey, is that the chick with the funky red dress from that video [BlackEyed Boy]? I like her! ", but they were very respectful towards me. I was in awe of them. They're all huge guys, and they kept calling me "girlie". But then they heard me sing, and they were convinced I was black! [Fondly] Method Man is a lovely guy, you know. Do you feel sexy? Not first thing in the morning, I don't. I can look very rough indeed. But I don't want to be obviously sexy. I try to think what I find sexy in women - and it's not Pamela Anderson - and then work on that. I think the sexiest word in the English language is "no". It makes perfect sense, because everyone wants what they can't have. If you actually look at all the supposedly steamy photographs I've done, I'm actually revealing very little flesh indeed. In the video for Summer Son, you effectively dry-hump a handsome man in bed. Did he leave you, um, tongue-tied? Very funny. I'll tell you why I did that video. It was to suggest that it is possible to be unbelievably sexy and keep all your clothes on. That video was all about the power of suggestion, but ironically it wasn't allowed to be shown on television before seven o'clock because it was too raunchy. What hypocritical bullshit. All I ever see on MTV are women in ridiculous push-up bras, cleavage everywhere, and touching themselves. I wanted to make an alternative, but keep it just as sexy. It is also, presumably, fairly good fun cavorting with a male model of your choice? Well, I have to admit, it's a pretty good way to spend a day. [Abruptly changing subject] Incidentally, did you know that Summer Son has just broken us in Germany? Which is good news because Germany is the third biggest market in the world. We're massive there now. Not bigger than David Hasselhoff, surely? Germany, after all, is his stronghold. Do you know what? I think we're even bigger than him. How about that? Congratulations. Thank you, very kind. You exude confidence the way a teenager does testosterone. Does it ever spill over into arrogance? When I was a hairdresser, people thought I was really arrogant. Now, because of the band, I'm almost allowed to have an ego, but most people tend to think of me as level headed. Well, that's what they tell me to my face, anyway. Put it this way, I've not changed at all. I'm very ambitious, always have been. There are still a lot of people out there who don't like us and probably hate me, but I don't care about them. We're a band who sell a lot of records. That brings peace of mind and, yes, a certain arrogance. But, y'know, we've worked hard to get into this position. I'm not about to apologise for it. One more thing. What, if anything, turns you off in a man? Beards. When they get as big as that bloke's in The Royle Family, bits of food get stuck in thein. Disgusting! My father [a seaman] used to go off to sea for months at a time and come back home with a bloody great bush of a beard. Me and my sister would go after him with the scissors, screaming like banshees.

[cinnaminsvga]

10 | producer!yoongi

10. ❝ things you said that made me feel like shit ❞ genre: angst // words: 1.5K warnings: degradation of character

You cannot help the way your leg bounces up and down frantically, with your fingernails digging crescent-shaped moons into your skin. The secretary has sent you numerous annoyed looks within the past hour, but no amount of embarrassment could stave off your fear.

You were about to have a meeting with the company’s CEO, and you knew exactly why you were being called in.

Namjoon had texted you before you arrived, saying that if all else fails, you always had a safety net with him. Unlike many people, he believed in your capabilities, and you knew you could trust him in a flash. But there is still that niggling idolization that remains in your soul, for the man you were about to meet. The producer of the nation who had sold his soul to music will always seem like a god to you, but in that moment, he felt more like a demon watching your every move, waiting for you to fail him again. If only your first meeting could have been on better terms, then life could have been perfect.

Nothing ever really goes well, especially for you.

Just as you were about to walk to the water cooler for the umpteenth time, the irritated secretary clears her throat, her well-manicured finger beckoning you to come closer. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, while the nerves make your blood pump louder in your ears.

“Miss Y/N? Min-PD would like to see you now.” Her cool voice sounds muffled in your blood-filled ears, and you know that your legs could give out any second now. You take a deep breath, trying your best to send her a wobbly grin. She does not return it.

In the seconds it took you to take those three strides to his door, you swear your life flashes before your eyes. The eyes of your encouraging mother, as well as your father’s last reassuring pat on the back before you boarded the train to Seoul flits through your mind’s eye as you raise to knock once, twice. This is it; the culmination of your life’s work, about to be completely destroyed by the most notorious producer in all of Seoul. What a way to go.

“Come in.” He calls out, and you finally take the plunge.

The insides of his office look as unwelcoming as the waiting room had been. There is a sense of unliving to it, as if no one had entered this room in a long time. You catch a glimpse of picture frames without any photos on the wall, and an empty pot by the corner of the room. All that remains in the sparse room is Min-PD himself, sitting with his feet up against a large glass table and a frown on his face.

The entire place felt cursed. It was definitely going to be a bad time.

“You asked for me to come, sir?” Your meek voice sounds deafening in the empty room, and you wince slightly at the sound of its echo. Min-PD’s face is blasé at best.

“Yes I did, Miss Y/N. And I suppose you are aware as to why I called you out here, correct?”

Your shoulders hunch closer together. “Y-yes sir…”

Min-PD stands up from his spot in a blur, his frantic movement almost making you yelp out in surprise. He grabs a stack of papers from the floor that you had not noticed when you entered, and it is with great restraint that you do not let out a sob of despair.

They were newspaper clippings. More specifically, articles about how Genius Lab’s newest girl group’s debut song had flopped—terribly. You feel your breath stick in your throat, and you can feel the approaching doom to follow.

There is a silence that stretches on longer than would be considered comfortable. Your eyes remain downcast as you wait for the incoming storm—anything that will sweep you away and permanently damage you as a producer. You brace yourself as best as you can, but even that is not enough.

You expected a typhoon from the man, and all you got was a drizzle—and somehow, that was infinitely worse.

“Miss Y/N. I trusted you. I put my faith on you, and this is what I am repaid with?” Even though his voice sounded more like a whisper, and they feel like hammers in your skull all the same. He suddenly slams the newspapers on the glass table, and your body jumps without warning. You look up quick enough to see his eyebrows raised, as if unimpressed by your jumpiness.

“You are one of Seoul’s top upcoming young producers of 2018, and you even somehow managed to get Namjoon’s approval and recommendation, and yet—” Min-PD tuts, dragging a hand through his styled hair. “And yet.” He breathes out, clearly exasperated.

He goes around the table faster than you could imagine, and his hand goes to cup your jaw. You gulp, his face too close for comfort. His eyes look dark—stormy. He exudes an aura of a big bad wolf coming to eat you alive, and you were his helpless prey just begging to be released.

But he doesn’t.

“How did you do it?” He asks, and you almost think it’s a rhetorical question until his eyes squint further. He repeats himself, “How did you do it?”

“Do… do what sir?”

“How did you manage to fool me into thinking you were worth my time?” The hiss of his voice nearly brings a tear to your eye, and if not for the way his fingers held your jaw, you might have let out a sob.

“I—I, sir… I am so sorry I—”

“You not only let down me, but you let down the five girls who had wished for a great debut and this is what they get? A half-assed bubblegum pop song with unoriginal lyrics? Give me a break.” He snarls, finally letting go off you and storming off to gaze outside his window. The temperature in the room seems to drop, and all you wanted to do was to phase through the floor and never return. Anything but this.

“This is the last time I take recommendation from someone else. I guess the only one who can do anything right around here is me.” He sighs, not turning back to face you. Somehow, his back looks even more menacing than his front. He’s standing stiff straight, with his shoulders pulled back like a man who knew he was better than everyone else. All black suit with no color; he was a man who only knew how to work and never knew how to stand down.

A man without empathy—was he even worth working for?

And yet, deep down, you knew that he was. There was a reason that he was called a genius, a prodigy. You didn’t fight tooth and nail to come to this company only to be beaten into a pulp with just a few painful words. You needed to get over the nerves and remember who you were: a strong woman capable of making good music. One song is never going to define you, and you got to prove yourself to this arrogant man that he’s barely seen you work.

“I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“You’re damn well right you aren’t going to do it again. You’re fired.” He retorts, not missing a beat. You grit your teeth, willing the surge of tears away. This is not the end.

“Sir, give me one more chance and I swear—”

“You swear what exactly, Miss Y/N? That you’ll change my mind?” Min-PD interrupts, turning to face you again. “That you’ll work harder and produce a song that I’ve never heard before? You don’t think I haven’t fired my fair share of know-it-all producers? It’s always ‘next time I’ll do better’ and never any progress. If there’s anything I know, it’s never to trust a producer who fails the first time their given a chance. I’ve put too much faith into kids like you. No more,” he finishes, and it is only then that you see the way his shoulders sink lower, as if there is a weight pulling him there. The stiff man you saw a second ago is replaced by this: a tired boy who has seen far too much and trusted far too many.

You try and you try and you—“I’m not like those kids. I swear, I will do better.”

“Save your breath, kid. You’re done. Find somewhere else to work.” He sighs, and the weight seems all the more present in that moment. He walks sluggishly to his seat, and it creaks loudly in the office. He swivels the chair away from you. “Go work for Namjoon or something. This place… it’s certainly not for you.”

You know when you’ve been dismissed. There is a fight in you still, but even you knew that this was a futile battle. The man would not be convinced, and that’s that. With as much dignity as you could muster, you bow to his unseeing face and turn to leave the cold building.

You can already feel the beginnings of tears start to form in the edges of your vision when his voice calls out one last time. It is quiet, almost ignorable. But you hear it all too well.

“When you go work with Namjoon, prove me wrong, okay?”

Your grip on the doorknob is deathly. You grit your teeth and bow your head.

You’re damn well right, sir.