#last pic is a stretch but i had to include it

[eepwtf]

oh my GLOB i just saw this pic in my camera roll(don’t ask) and my brain immediately went to frat!kai parker

WARNINGS; explicit sexual content: contains detailed and graphic descriptions of sexual acts, including edging and overstimulation. jerking each other off(are you even frat bros if you don’t?) exhibitionism & voyeurism: includes references to the potential of being watched or caught during sexual acts. humiliation kink, kai being an asshole, slight power imbalance, ( im a sucker for asshole x dumb puppy dog duo ) accidental homoerotic frat energy: “it’s not gay, bro, it’s just mutual appreciation...of each other’s cocks.”

also, can i just say this started as an innocent brainstorming session about kai parker ! frat bro headcanons, but things got wildly out of hand, and now we’re here. sigh, my brain goes into a rabbit hole that i cannot escape when it comes to him.

wc; 5.5k

kai parker was the kind of guy who made you hate the sound of your own name. not because he said it wrong, no—that’d be too simple. he dragged it out, teased it, wrapped it in just enough contempt to make your chest tighten and your skin crawl. (the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, too, with that smug little smirk of his.) perched on the back of the delta psi beta couch—shoes still on, because of course he didn’t give a shit—he swirled the last inch of beer in his red Solo cup like it was top-shelf whiskey. he had that infuriating cocked-eyebrow thing going on, one leg stretched out like he owned the damn place. (technically, he kind of did—if being the unofficial asshole-in-residence counted for anything.)

the house reeked of stale beer, sweat, axe body spray, and regret. (it was a delta psi beta signature blend—eau de regret.) the floors were a graveyard of crushed cans and abandoned cups, the kind that leaked sticky trails when you tried to clean them up—assuming anyone ever did. over in the corner, some poor pledge was on his knees, scrubbing furiously at a blackish-green stain on the carpet. (it shimmered faintly in the light, like an oil slick, and everyone silently agreed that the less you knew, the better.)

and then there was you. (golden boy. president. the kind of guy who people just…liked.) you didn’t even have to try. your smile was easy, charming—sugar-sweet in a way that made kai’s teeth ache. you were sprawled next to kai, stupid grin plastered across that stupidly pretty face of yours, laughing at some dumb joke one of the other guys had made. your hair was a little messy (like it always was by the middle of a party), your cheeks pink from too many beers, and kai fucking hated it. not you, not really—he wasn’t sure he was even capable of hating you. (hating you would’ve been easier. cleaner.) but he didn’t exactly like you either, and that made him feel some kind of way.

maybe it was the way people clung to your every sugary, half-baked word. (kai talked, and people flinched. you talked, and they fucking laughed.) maybe it was how you could smile at someone and instantly get whatever you fucking wanted. (beer. a blowjob. a goddamn kidney, probably.) hated how your laugh was so genuine it made him feel like a fraud just sitting next to you. (fuck, he hated that he wasn’t immune to it. that sometimes he caught himself watching you and wondering.) or maybe it was the way you always squirmed when he turned his attention on you, when he got close enough to see that flicker of panic in your puppy-dog eyes.

“you good, president puppy?” he drawled, dragging his gaze over to you, slow enough to be a threat. (or a promise—same difference really.) his voice was low and syrupy, just the tiniest bit condescending, like he was addressing a particularly dumb pet. you blinked at him, smile wavering for half a second before you covered it up with a laugh.

“yeah, i’m good, parker,” you said, voice light and easy, even though kai could see the faint pink creeping up your neck. (you always got flustered when he paid attention to you. he loved that.)

kai tilted his head, studying you like he was trying to decide whether you were worth his time. (spoiler: you were. that was the problem.) he shifted closer, his knee brushing yours, his grin sharpening as he watched you try so hard not to squirm. “cool. just making sure, since you look a little…��� he let the word hang, raising an eyebrow as his gaze flicked to your flushed face. “...overheated.”

you laughed again, this time nervously, running a hand through your hair. “it’s just hot in here, man.” (it wasn’t. not really. but if that’s the excuse you wanted to cling to, kai wasn’t going to stop you.)

“yeah?” he leaned in, close enough that you could smell the beer on his breath, the faint bite of mint underneath it. “if you pass out or something, i guess i can be the guy who saves your dumb ass. might even give you mouth-to-mouth.” his voice was teasing, but there was something dark and heavy under it, something that made your pulse stutter. (it was the way he said it, like he’d already imagined the scenario—and like it wouldn’t just stop at saving you.)

your laugh came out strangled this time, caught somewhere between discomfort and something else. something you didn’t want to think about. (but kai could see it. the way your pupils dilated, the way your pulse ticked in your throat, the way your eyes darted—just for a second—to his mouth.)

“careful, puppy,” kai murmured, his voice low and dripping with amusement. his knee pressed harder against yours, and his grin sharpened, baring teeth. “you’re starting to look like you want me to put you out of your misery.”

it wasn’t hard to persuade you. not really. kai had always been good at that—finding the cracks, prying them open just wide enough to slip his fingers inside. (and you? you weren’t exactly built to resist. puppy-dog eyes, soft around the edges, desperate to please. fuck, you practically came pre-cracked.)

one minute, you were still in the delta psi beta living room, trying to laugh off the weight of kai’s knee pressed against yours, the heat of his breath brushing your ear. the next, you were stumbling down the hallways of your dorm, your head spinning with too many beers and too much him.

(you weren’t even sure how it had happened. you were saying, “nah, i’m good here, man,” in that too-light, too-nervous tone of yours, and, kai had tipped his head, given you that sharp-edged smirk, and said something like, “c’mon, puppy. let’s get out of this shithole.” and you—golden boy, poster child for frat excellence—had followed him like a lovesick idiot. like a dog. like his dog.)

by the time you reached your dorm, the hallway was dead silent. most of your neighbors were passed out cold, their doors closed, or too busy fucking to care about the pair of you fumbling with your keys. (not that kai would’ve cared if they had been watching. in fact, he probably would’ve loved it—eyes on him, knowing he was the one who’d gotten under your skin, the one dragging the president of delta psi around like some kind of trophy.)

“you’re a mess, president puppy,” kai drawled, his voice syrupy and slow, thick with condescension. his hand was on your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it, and it felt like he was taking your pulse—measuring every shaky beat. (too fast. too loud. too much.) he plucked the keys from your trembling fingers like you were too dumb to handle them yourself. (and maybe you were. at least, around him.)

“i’m fine,” you muttered, your voice wrecked and unconvincing. your cheeks were burning, your head buzzing, and your whole body felt like it was vibrating. (you weren’t fine. you didn’t even sound close to fine, and kai noticed. of course he noticed. he always noticed.)

the door swung open, and before you could step inside, kai was already crowding into your space. his hand slid from your wrist to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make your breath catch. (he gripped you like you belonged to him, his to hold, to keep, to fuck with. it scared you how much you wanted it.)

“man, this is sad,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear again. (he wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore, and why would he? you weren’t exactly putting up a fight.) “big man on campus, and you can’t even get your own door open. what would your brothers think?”

“i said i’m fine,” you snapped, but your voice cracked halfway through, and kai laughed. (it wasn’t fair, the way his laugh hit you—sharp and mocking, but hot enough to make your stomach twist.)

“sure you are,” he said, kicking the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot. his eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate, like he was assessing you. picking you apart. you felt like you were being stripped bare, and he hadn’t even touched you—not really.

“god, you’re pathetic,” he said, almost to himself, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk again. (but there was something darker underneath it, something hungry. like he was debating what to do with you now that he had you alone. like he was wondering how far he could push you before you cracked completely.)

and then his gaze dipped. lower. lingering.

kai tilted his head, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip. “you know,” he said, his voice a low purr, “i’ve heard a lot of rumors about you, puppy.”

you froze, blinking at him. “rumors?”

“mhm,” he said, circling you like a predator, his eyes dragging down your body. (you’d never felt so small before, which was ridiculous, considering you were taller than him. broader. bigger. but none of that mattered with kai. he had this way of making you feel exposed, raw, like a stupid kid being toyed with by someone much smarter.)

“wanna know the most interesting one?” he continued, and before you could respond, his hand was there now, palming you through your jeans, bold and unrelenting.

“people say you’re packing, president,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. (your breath hitched. your pulse was thundering now, hammering in your throat like it was trying to escape.) “biggest dick in the house, right? that’s what they say about you.”

his grin widened, and his hand squeezed—not enough to hurt, just enough to make your knees buckle. “but you know what i think?”

“kai,” you rasped, but it didn’t sound like a protest. not really.

“i think,” he said, leaning in close enough that his lips brushed your jaw, “it doesn’t matter how big it is if you don’t know how to use it.”

and then he was laughing again, sharp and mean, pulling back just enough to see the look on your face—flushed, panicked, and wrecked. (exactly how he liked you.)

kai’s thumb pressed harder, teasingly slow as he tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, though it was loud enough for you to hear. his blue-grey gaze dragged lower, zeroing in on the bulge straining against the front of your khakis. (it was humiliating—how obvious it was, how needy you looked. and kai? he was eating it up, his smirk twisting wider as his fingers flexed against you.) “i mean, they weren’t kidding, were they?” his hand tightened, fingers curling around the outline of your cock, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. (the noise you made was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and the way kai’s eyes lit up said he fucking loved it.)

“that’s what you’ve been hiding under those stupid khakis all this time?” he said, his tone mocking but tinged with genuine curiosity. his thumb dragged slow and deliberate along the length of you, tracing the thick ridge of your shaft through the fabric. (you could feel the heat of his palm through the layers, the weight of it making your cock twitch helplessly under his hand.)

you swallowed hard, your throat dry, your hands gripping the edges of your desk like they were the only things keeping you upright. “kai,” you choked out, trying to sound firm, but it came out as a broken, desperate plea. (not that it mattered—kai wasn’t listening to the words. he was listening to the way you said them. the shaky breath. the crack in your voice. the way his name sounded like it had been ripped straight from your chest.)

“poor thing,” he said, shaking his head like he pitied you. (he didn’t, though. you could see it in the glint of his eyes—he was enjoying this, taking you apart piece by piece.) “all that equipment, and no one’s ever taught you what to do with it.” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice dropped lower. “don’t worry, puppy.” he murmured, the nickname dripping with condescension. “i’ll take good care of you. teach you how to use it. maybe even test drive it myself.”

the words sent a shiver down your spine, your knees buckling slightly, and kai noticed. (of course he noticed. kai always noticed. he had a way of zeroing in on every crack in your armor, the way your chest heaved, the way your cock twitched under his hand, already leaking pre-cum and soaking through the fabric.) “you like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his hand still moving against you, slow and deliberate. (the pressure was maddening—just enough to make you ache, not enough to give you relief. he wanted you like this, trembling under his touch, desperate for more.) “bet you’ve been walking around campus thinking you’re hot shit, huh? thinking you’re god’s gift to women—” he paused, his smirk twisting crueler, “—or maybe men. which is it, puppy? you ever let any of those frat bros get on their knees for you?”

your face burned hot, the shame curling in your stomach like a knot. you tried to look away, but kai’s hand shot up, gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes. “didn’t think so,” he said, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still. (you couldn’t look away, even if you wanted to. and god, the way his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly, made your chest tighten.)

“so fucking clueless,” he murmured, almost to himself. “but that’s okay. i like my toys a little clueless.” his thigh pressed between your legs then, pinning you against the desk, and you couldn’t help the way your hips twitched forward, seeking friction. (it was embarrassing—how little control you had, how easily he could reduce you to this. but kai didn’t look disgusted. no, he looked thrilled.)

“bet you’ve got all kinds of stupid fantasies, don’t you, prez?” he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. (he didn’t kiss you, though. he could have, but he didn’t. he was holding it just out of reach, teasing you, making you want it.) he gave a sharp laugh when your hips bucked forward again, chasing the friction like a desperate idiot. “good boy,” he said, his voice rough and low, dripping with approval that made your chest tighten. (it shouldn’t have felt good—it shouldn’t have made your cock throb—but it did, and kai fucking knew it.)

“let’s see if you’re worth the hype, huh? let’s see if all that talk about delta psi’s golden boy is true.” his hand slipping down to hook into your waistband. (you held your breath, your pulse hammering in your throat as he dragged your pants down just enough to free your cock, hard and already leaking pathetically.)

kai sucked in a breath, his grin spreading wide as his fingers wrapped around you, stroking slow and deliberate. “well, shit,” he said, his tone sharp and taunting. “guess they weren’t lying after all.” his thumb swiped over the head of your cock, smearing the pre-cum dripping down your shaft, and your knees nearly gave out at the sensation. (you were already a fucking wreck—your skin burning, your breathing ragged, your hips jerking helplessly into his hand like you couldn’t help yourself.)

kai’s hand slid down the length of your cock, his grip tightening just enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips. (it was pathetic—how easily he had you trembling, how greedily your hips jerked forward, chasing the maddening friction. and kai? he fucking thrived on it. the glint in his blue-grey eyes sharpened, turning darker as he savored every choked whimper, every helpless twitch of your cock in his hand.)

"god, you really are dumb," he drawled, his smirk carving deeper into his face. his thumb swiped over the head of your cock, smearing the slick, sticky pre-cum pooling at the tip, making you jolt in his grip. the noise you made—a strangled mix of a gasp and a moan—shot straight to kai’s ego, his fingers tightening around you in response.) “you’re already dripping all over me, and I’ve barely done anything." (he wasn’t wrong—the wetness was obscene, slicking up his palm and leaving a glistening trail along the underside of your shaft as he stroked you slow and deliberate, every movement calculated to keep you teetering on the edge.)

your knees buckled again, your thighs trembling as you gripped the desk tighter, your head falling back with a broken whimper. "kai, please," you rasped, your voice cracking on the word. (it was humiliating—how wrecked you sounded, how easily he’d reduced you to this. but the worst part? he drank in your wrecked state like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen, a predator reveling in his prey’s helplessness.)

"please?" he echoed, his smirk widening, the mockery in his tone cutting like a knife. "what are you begging for, puppy? huh? you want me to let you cum?" his hand slowed, his thumb pressing teasingly into the slit at the tip of your cock, dragging the slick wetness down over your shaft in slow, deliberate circles. “you want me to let you cum?” (the way he said it—mocking and filthy, like it was a joke—made your chest tighten, your cock twitching helplessly in his hand.)

"y-yeah," you stammered, barely able to get the words out between ragged breaths. "please, kai, i—"

"not happening, prez," he cut you off sharply, his fingers tightening around your cock until you gasped, hips jerking forward on instinct. (the pressure was just shy of painful, his grip like a vice that left your thighs shaking, your mind spinning as the line between pleasure and pain blurred into something overwhelming.) "you don’t get to cum until i say so. got it?"

you nodded frantically, your voice lost to the desperate sounds spilling from your throat as your hips bucked forward again, chasing the friction kai kept just out of reach. (it didn’t matter how desperate you were—kai was in control now, and he was taking his sweet fucking time with you.)

"good boy," he murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with approval that made your cock throb harder in his hand. (the praise shouldn’t have felt so good—shouldn’t have made heat pool in your stomach, shouldn’t have sent another pulse of pre-cum leaking from the tip—but it did, and kai fucking knew it.)

his hand started moving again, slow and deliberate, his thumb teasing the sensitive underside of your cock with every stroke. (the pace was maddening—just enough to keep the coil in your stomach tightening, your chest heaving as you clawed at the desk for something, anything to ground yourself.)

but just as you felt yourself start to tip over the edge, just as the tight knot of pressure in your gut began to snap, kai stopped. “ah, ah,” he scolded, his tone dripping with mockery as he pulled his hand away completely, leaving you throbbing and leaking in the open air. (the sudden loss of contact was agony, your cock twitching helplessly, desperate for the friction he’d stolen away. but kai just leaned back, his smirk twisting crueler as he watched you squirm, your wrecked little whines only fueling his amusement.)

"look at you," he said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. "so fucking desperate, so fucking needy. Is this how you are with everyone? or just me?" (his eyes dragged over you, taking in the way your cock throbbed, the way your chest heaved, the way your hips twitched forward uselessly, searching for relief.)

“kai,” you choked out, your voice wrecked and broken, your hands trembling as you reached for him. but he caught your wrist with a sharp laugh, shoving it back down onto the desk with enough force to make your breath hitch.

“uh-uh,” he said, his tone sharp as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “you don’t get to touch me. you don’t get to touch yourself. you’ll sit here and take what I give you. understand?” (the weight of his words settled over you like a command, your head nodding frantically even as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the need burning in your gut almost too much to bear.)

“good boy,” kai murmured again, his voice low and dripping with condescension as his hand returned to your cock, his fingers wrapping around you in a firm, punishing grip. (the pressure sent a fresh wave of slick pre-cum spilling from the tip, your hips jerking forward involuntarily as his pace picked up, rougher this time, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.)

kai’s grip on your cock tightened, his fingers pressing into the slick, throbbing flesh as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “you know,” he drawled, his voice low and mocking, “i should make you beg louder. let everyone outside hear what a desperate little slut the president of the house really is.” (the words dripped from his mouth like poison, slow and deliberate, and the way his breath ghosted over your skin sent a violent shudder racing down your spine. your cock twitched in his hand, leaking shamelessly, and kai? he fucking noticed. of course.)

“god, just imagine it,” he continued, his smirk sharp enough to cut. “one of your precious brothers walking by, hearing those pathetic little noises you keep making.” he gave your cock a slow stroke, his thumb swiping over the head, spreading the slick pre-cum that was pooling there. “you think they’d recognize you? their golden boy prez, standing here with his cock out, dripping all over my hand?” his voice dropped lower, rougher, the words rumbling against your ear in a way that made your chest tighten, heat pooling low in your stomach.

(and he was right. god, he was right. the sharp edge in his voice, the shame curling hot and tight in your chest, the thought of someone walking in—it should have made you recoil, should have made you pull away. but it didn’t. it sent another pulse of heat rushing to your gut, your cock twitching shamelessly in his hand.)

“i—i don’t—” you started to protest, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as kai’s thumb pressed harder against the sensitive slit at the tip of your cock, smearing the slick pre-cum down the length of your shaft. (the sound of it—the wet, filthy noise of his strokes—filled the room, mingling with your shaky breaths and the soft creak of the desk under your trembling thighs. it was obscene, overwhelming, and it only made your knees buckle harder.)

“you’re such a fucking mess,” kai muttered, his grip tightening, his pace picking up just enough to keep you on edge. “standing here, dripping all over my hand like some needy little toy. what do you think your brothers would say if they saw you like this, huh?” his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice dropping into a filthy, teasing whisper.

“kai, please,” you rasped, your voice trembling, breaking, as you tugged weakly at his grip on your jaw. “someone might—”

“walk in?” kai cut you off, his smirk twisting wider. “yeah, they might.” he slowed his strokes, his hand moving in slow, deliberate circles over your cock, dragging his thumb along the sensitive underside with every pass. (the panic in your chest warred with the heat pooling low in your stomach, the thought of being caught making your thighs tremble. but it wasn’t just panic, was it? the shame, the humiliation, the filthy thrill of it—it had your cock throbbing harder, leaking more, the slick wetness making his strokes even louder, even more obscene.)

“hell, maybe i’ll leave the door open wider,” he mused, tilting his head as if he were actually considering it. “let them get a real good look at their precious prez, all wrecked and dripping for me. you think they’d believe it? that their golden boy is just a dumb little slut when he’s with me?”

the thought made your chest tighten, your cock twitching in his hand despite yourself. (you couldn’t help it—the image of someone walking in, seeing you like this, flushed and trembling, your cock flushed dark and leaking all over kai’s hand—it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, shame burning bright and hot in your gut.)

“kai, don’t,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper, but he just laughed—a low, cruel sound that made your stomach twist.

“oh, puppy,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as his fingers tightened around your shaft, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. “don’t act like you don’t want it. you’d love it if someone saw you like this. you’d fucking love it, wouldn’t you?”

(and the worst part? he wasn’t wrong. the humiliation, the thrill, the filthy heat of it—it was eating you alive, making your hips jerk forward, your cock throbbing against his palm as he teased you mercilessly.)

kai’s grin split wider as he watched you collapse against the desk, your body trembling and slack. you were so wrecked, so far gone, and yet somehow still holding onto whatever shred of dignity you had left—barely. your cock twitched helplessly in the open air, shiny with slick pre-cum that trailed obscenely down the length, pooling on the desk’s polished surface. “god, prez, look at you,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mockery as his gaze dragged over your wrecked body. “such a pretty mess.” his hand hovered near your face, fingers flexing like he was deciding whether or not to touch you again. (the anticipation made your stomach churn, heat pooling low in your gut as you fought the urge to beg for it.)

you whimpered, barely able to lift your head to meet his eyes, and his grin turned downright feral. “hmm? what’s the matter? cat got your tongue?” he teased, his voice low and mocking. then, slowly, he reached for his belt, his fingers brushing deliberately against the metal buckle before undoing it. the sharp, metallic clink sent a shiver racing down your spine. the sound was too loud in the quiet room, cutting through the heavy, oppressive air like a blade. it felt deliberate, like a show just for you, and your thighs clenched together, trying to hide the way your cock twitched at the thought of what was coming.

kai slid the belt free from the loops of his jeans in one smooth motion, the leather whispering against the fabric as he pulled it taut between his hands. “you think you deserve it?” he asked, his voice low and rough, every word dragging across your skin like sandpaper.

“i—” you swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you tried to speak. your throat was dry, your lips trembling as you forced yourself to look up at him. the weight of his gaze was suffocating. “i’ll do whatever you want, kai. just—please.” the words spilled out, raw and desperate, the humiliation sharp as you heard yourself begging. but you didn’t care. the ache was unbearable, your entire body trembling with the need for him to just touch you again.

“whatever i want?” he echoed, his voice dripping with condescension. he popped the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down with an infuriating slowness. (the metallic rasp of the zipper sent another shiver through you, your breathing hitching as he shoved the fabric down his hips, revealing the outline of his cock straining against his boxer briefs.)

your gaze flicked downward, drawn to him like a magnet, and your breath caught in your throat. (the hard, thick length of him pressed against the fabric was impossible to ignore, the heat pooling in your gut turning molten as your thighs trembled.)

“like what you see?” he asked, his voice sharp with mockery, as if he could read every filthy thought running through your head. he steeped closer, his free hand reached out, fingers curling around the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you forward. (the heat of his palm was dizzying, his skin rough against your own, and the closeness made it impossible to think—your cock throbbing painfully as you swallowed hard, your lips parting on instinct.)

you nodded frantically, your wide eyes flicking up to meet his, and kai’s laugh was sharp and cruel. “of course you do,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you’re so fucking easy.”

then he kissed you—hard, messy, claiming—his teeth scraped against your bottom lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth without hesitation. (the taste of him was overwhelming, bittersweet and electric, his mouth demanding and unrelenting, and the sharp sting of his teeth made a broken noise escape from your throat.) his fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, and your hips bucked forward instinctively, your cock brushing against the hard length of his.

kai pulled back, your lips still parted and aching for his. strings of saliva clung between you, catching the dim light in obscene little trails as he licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with something dark and satisfied. “getting ahead of yourself, prez?” he teased, then, without waiting for a response, his free hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around both of your cocks in one firm, unforgiving grip.

the sudden pressure made your knees buckle, a wrecked moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it. kai didn’t let up, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had your thighs trembling. (the slick slide of your cock against his sent shockwaves of heat through your body, your breath hitching as you fought the urge to thrust into his hand like some desperate animal.)

“fuck,” kai muttered, his voice rough and low. his eyes were locked on the sight of your cocks sliding together, his grip tightening as he picked up the pace. “look at you. dripping all over me like the needy little slut you are.” the words were cruel, but the heat in his voice, the way his breath hitched as his cock throbbed against yours, sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you.

“kai,” you gasped, your hips jerking forward as your thighs trembled, but he didn’t let up. his strokes were relentless, his pace a steady rhythm that had your breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

“bet you’ve never done this with your little frat bros, huh?” kai said, his smirk splitting wider. “jerking each other off after practice? getting off in the showers?” (the filthy imagery burned in your mind, and you couldn’t help the way your cock twitched in his hand, your chest heaving as heat flooded your face.)

“n-no,” you stammered, but the broken, wrecked tone of your voice only seemed to amuse him further.

“liar,” he hissed, his teeth catching the edge of your jaw as his strokes grew faster, rougher. “bet you fucking loved it. all those eyes on you. you’re such a goddamn exhibitionist, prez.”

your knees buckled, the tension in your body overwhelming as every nerve seemed to scream at once. your head dropped forward, your forehead nearly brushing his shoulder, and you gasped out a shaky breath, hips jerking forward in desperate, uncontrollable movements. the pressure in your gut was unbearable now, winding tighter with every stroke of his hand.

kai’s breath was hot against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it in a way that made you shudder. his grip on your cock tightened, his strokes quick and unrelenting, every pass of his hand sending sparks of heat racing through you. he was relentless, calculated, dragging you right to the edge and holding you there, and it felt like your body was on the verge of snapping in half.

“don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost a whisper. it was close enough that you could feel the vibration of it against your skin. “cum for me, wanna feel it all over my hand.”

the words hit like a spark to dry kindling, and the knot in your stomach unraveled all at once. you came with a wrecked, desperate sound, your thighs shaking as sticky ropes of cum spilled over his hand, dripping down to pool on the floor between you. (the sight of it—messy and obscene—made your chest heave, shame and pleasure tangling together in a way that made your head swim.)

kai didn’t stop. his hand kept moving, relentless and precise, dragging you through the aftershocks with strokes that were both merciless and grounding. his own cock pulsed against yours, the sticky heat of his release smearing over your stomach and the softening length of your cock as he groaned low in your ear.

“fuck,” he hissed, his breath hot against your neck, his voice thick with satisfaction and something darker. his hand stayed wrapped around both of you, slick and filthy, dragging his release over your skin as he pressed his lips to the curve of your shoulder. “look at you,” he muttered, the words rough, almost reverent, as his teeth sank into the flesh of your shoulder. the sharp sting sent a jolt through you, grounding you even as your mind swirled, overwhelmed and dazed.

for a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing, the wet, obscene slide of his hand slowing as he loosened his grip. his chest rose and fell against your back, warm and solid as he held you there, pressed close, his body a steadying anchor. He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded and glinting with amusement and satisfaction as his lips curled into a lazy smirk.

“messy,” he drawled, his voice low and languid as his fingers swiped through the cum streaking your stomach, smearing it further over your skin in deliberate, slow motions. he lifted his hand, holding it up for both of you to see. the sticky fluid dripped between his fingers, glistening in the dim light as he turned his hand slightly, watching the way it clung to his skin.

his blue-grey eyes flicked back to yours, the amusement there sharpening into something more commanding. “open up, puppy,” he said softly, the edge of authority in his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

your chest heaved, the remnants of your release leaving you spent and pliant, too dazed to resist. slowly, your lips parted, your body obeying on instinct. kai’s fingers slipped into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, the taste of salt and musk filling your senses.

“good boy,” he murmured, his voice soft but cutting, the praise settling over you like a warm weight. his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, smearing a trace of cum there as he withdrew his fingers, leaving your mouth feeling empty, aching for more.

© 𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐖𝐓𝐅’𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐘. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 16

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

A/N: I might start being silly and include fake instagram posts for this fic, one of them included in this one. I just hope it shows up LOL. Of course, I can't find exact pics for the situations I need them for, so the pictures in the posts are just there for you to see the poses/style of the pics I have in mind, and you picture the cast + Isla for them.

“Now this is what I’m talkin’ about,” Cleo coos, the satisfied smile evident in her voice as she stretches on the chair, dark skin glowing under the sun.

Isla grins from her own chair, laying on her stomach with the sun on her back, mostly exposed thanks to her bikini, while she reads the latest Emily Henry book laying before her. Music plays from a speaker somewhere, burgers and hot dogs being cooked on the grill manned by John B, as the rest of them lay and laze around on the deck of The Druthers, Sarah’s dad’s yacht.

It’s not often they hang out at Sarah’s house, and even less so on Ward’s yacht. Most of their time is spent on The Cut, at the beach, the Chateau. It’s where they’re most comfortable together, as a group. But when it’s just them, with no one else disrupting them, moments like these where they can use the yacht and it just be their group, they take advantage of being on Figure Eight. The Cut is their side of the island, no doubt, but between Sarah’s, Isla and Kie’s homes being on Figure Eight, Cleo coming over all of the time for girls’ days, JJ and Pope making deliveries on Figure Eight for Heyward, and John B, of course, spending time at Sarah’s place, they all end up spending time on this side of the island, too.

Isla knows, though, some of her friends aren’t always totally comfortable being here, since The Cut is what they truly know. Sometimes, if they’re feeling particularly stubborn—especially JJ—it’s like pulling teeth trying to get them to hang out somewhere on Figure Eight, or even just Sarah’s house. And Isla gets it; Kooks are assholes and when they see outsiders—or Pogues—they get all righteous and pick fights. Isla knows that Pogues can sometimes be just as bad over on The Cut, but at the same time, no one really kicks out the Kooks when they crash Pogue parties. So Isla can’t really blame her friends for not coming to Figure Eight if they don’t have to. It feels too Kook-like, according to JJ, and Isla agrees sometimes.

But today is an exception. It’s a beautiful day and Sarah had asked Ward if they could use the Druthers; not to take it out or anything, but leave it sitting at the Camerons’ dock while the Pogues hung out on it, grilling food and drinking, ahem, responsibly. 

They wanted to just have a chill hang out following JJ quitting his job, even though he didn’t want to be in Kooklandia. But Sarah had given him puppy dog eyes and Kie had smiled flirtatiously, and so he had joined them on the yacht, too. Plus, with enough beers and a few hits of the joint Kie had rolled, JJ has mellowed out.

Kie hasn’t said if anything happened between her and JJ when she left the yacht club with him, despite Isla questioning her. Isla hopes that her sister would tell her if something did happen, but that hope itself seems a little hypocritical, coming from her. So, Isla doesn’t push.

“How much longer on the food, John B?” Kie asks where she sits on the cushioned bench stretching along one side of the deck. She plucks the strings of her ukelele, playing the tune of the Arctic Monkeys song playing through the speakers.

“Two minutes,” John B calls back, waving at the smoke rising from the grill. Next to him, Pope had sliced tomatoes and pulled lettuce leaves, and is now slathering mayonnaise on the burger buns. They both stand shirtless in just swimming trunks, though John B wears a Kiss the Cook apron that Sarah gave him to shield his bare chest from potential oil splatters. 

Before lunch is served, Isla places a bookmark in her book before getting up, heading inside the lodge to go to the bathroom. She sees Wheezie on the couch, laying comfortably and seemingly playing a game on her phone. She had asked to hang out on the yacht with them today, and since they all like Wheezie, there was no reason not to invite her.

After Isla quickly uses the bathroom, she walks back out and smiles at the youngest Cameron. “How’s it going, Wheezie? Why’re you sitting in here?” Isla asks, sitting at the end of the L-shaped couch to face Wheezie laying on the other end.

“I get burnt too easily, no matter what kind of sunblock I use,” Wheezie says as she sits up, back resting against the arm rest.

“Well, the food is about to be done,” Isla says, glancing over her shoulder out the sliding glass doors. Looking back at Wheezie, she grins teasingly. “Want me to bring your food in here for you?”

Wheezie rolls her eyes, but she grins. “I think I’ll survive.”

Isla laughs as her gaze shifts, catching sight of the few beaded bracelets Wheezie wears on her wrist. Isla’s smile turns softer, Rafe’s face flashing through her mind. She drags her teeth across her bottom lip before commenting, “I like your bracelets. They’re pretty.”

“Oh, thanks,” Wheezie smiles, raising her wrist to give it a little shake of her bracelets.

“You make them yourself?” Isla asks, despite knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Wheezie answers, pushing up her glasses. “I have a huge bead collection. I even sell them online sometimes.”

“Yeah?” Isla grins, eyebrows rising. “Can you make me one? I’ll pay,” she adds, wiggling her eyebrows.

“First one’s free for friends,” Wheezie replies, which only widens Isla’s grin.

Just then, John B’s voice calls out, “Food’s ready! Come and get it!”

As she and Wheezie get up, the younger girl asks, “I have, like, a crap-ton of colored beads and different shaped beads, like stars and hearts, stuff like that. Is there anything you want specifically?”

Isla considers for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. Rafe’s eyes flicker through her mind. “Baby blue beads, if you have them? And heart beads.”

Wheezie nods a couple of times. “I can do that!”

“Thanks, Wheezie,” Isla smiles as they step back out onto the deck, catching sight of her friends gathering towards the food.

Isla helps herself to a burger, piling on some lettuce and slices of tomatoes before stepping over to the cooler to grab a drink. Except when she opens it, her eyebrows furrow together. “Hey,” she calls over her shoulder. “Where are the sodas?”

“No sodas!” JJ shouts where he sits towards the front, raising his can of beer. She doesn’t need to see his eyes, which are shielded by sunglasses, to know he’s drunk as she catches sight of that lazy grin on his face. “Beer day only! You think Kooks drink Coke or water when they’re chilling on their yacht?” he snorts, patting the ledge of the boat.

“Seriously?” Isla groans. She’s already one beer in and isn’t particularly in the mood for another. “There was supposed to be water in here, too.”

“Come on, man,” Pope sighs in exasperation towards JJ, hand resting on the top of his cap.

Isla puts her plate down, taking another paper plate to cover her food from potential flies or bugs. “I’m gonna get the drinks,” she says, huffing out a breath as she reaches for her denim shorts and pulls them on. She knows the soda cans and water bottles are in the fridge at the house.

“I can go,” Pope says. “It’ll be heavy.”

Isla scoffs, throwing him a look. “I’ve lifted heavier shit at the restaurant,” she reminds him in a deadpan tone, pocketing her phone. She squints at the length of the dock leading to the Cameron estate, cracking a smile. “I’ll be back in ten.”

She walks off the Druthers and begins the trek down the dock. The music from the yacht grows more and more distant as she walks further down the dock, pulling out her phone and going to her texts.

To: Rafe

you back home yet?

Four steps later, his response comes in.

From: Rafe

Yeah, just got back in. You guys still on the Druthers?

To: Rafe

yeah but i’m coming into the house to get some drinks

From: Rafe

Thought you guys would be stacked up on alcohol

To: Rafe

alcohol, yes. but we need water and sodas too lol

She pockets her phone, getting off the dock and approaching the back glass doors of the house and walking inside. Isla hears someone moving around in the kitchen and when she walks in, she grins at the sight of Rafe. He’s in the process of making a protein shake, it looks like, dressed in gray pants with a light blue button down tucked in, sleeves rolled to the elbows. 

Isla bites her smiling bottom lip, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall on her side as she watches him. She knows he’s just coming back from some meetings that he sits in on with his dad, already having a place in Ward’s company for him to one day take over. Rafe’s watch shines on his wrist and her smile widens when she sees one of the beaded bracelets on his other wrist, the beads dark in color.

“Hi there,” she greets, catching his attention right when he puts the lid on the blender.

Rafe looks up, gaze finding hers and a smile instantly finding his face. It makes her heart flutter, how quickly the smile appears when he looks at her. It lights up his entire handsome face, his feelings so evident, and a comforting fire spreads through Isla—to know she’s the reason for that smile.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, blue eyes dipping down the length of her, her skin electrifying with delicious awareness everywhere his gaze touches. He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth as she walks over, and Rafe nods towards the box of Coca-Cola and some water bottles sitting on the counter. “Got your drinks out for you.”

“Why, thank you.” The corners of her lips dip downwards in a teasing grin, cheek turning into the shoulder she lifts. “You—” Her hand reaches forward to hook a finger through his belt loop, closing the gap between them while tilting her head back to smile at him as he looks down at her, eyebrows raised. “Look ridiculously handsome.”

It’s unfair how nicely the button down stretches across his broad chest and shoulders, strong forearms shown off with how the sleeves are rolled up. “Oh, yeah?” Rafe murmurs, his one hand leaning against the counter while the other slides up her long dark hair, threading through the strands before his hand cups the back of her head. He applies just the slightest bit of pressure to pull her head back while dipping his head, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut when his lips press to her smiling ones.

She hums into the kiss, chest against his torso and lips parting against his. “Mm, I can’t stay for long,” she murmurs, laughing breathlessly as Rafe trails kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her head tilts back, eyelashes fluttering in response to his lips working along her neck, a breath shuddering out of her. “Rafe, your parents—”

“Dad and Rose are at work,” he tells her. Isla’s thighs clench when his teeth graze against her skin.

“Okay, but don’t—” Isla laughs when he teasingly, lightly, nips at her and her hands press to his chest. “Do not leave any marks.”

Rafe groans. “Boring,” he says, but when he pulls back he’s grinning. His hands shift so he’s cupping her cheeks, thumbs lightly digging into the dents of her dimples when she grins up at him. “Your cheeks are flushed,” he comments with a chuckle.

Isla hums. “Hot day. Are you going back to work?”

Rafe nods. “Yeah, got an hour and a half to kill though,” he tells her with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows.

“Oh-ho, don’t look at me,” Isla laughs, shaking her head. “I gotta get back to the others.”

But Rafe wraps his arms around her waist, hugging her to him with a burgeoning grin. “I’m sure you have some time to kill,” he muses, and Isla yelps in surprise, hands gripping Rafe’s shoulders, as he lifts her and sits her on the counter, the cool marble chilling the bare skin of her thighs. He kisses her again, hands sliding down her sides, teasing the band of her shorts. “We can be quick,” he says, each word emphasized by a kiss as his fingers brush over the button and zipper of her shorts, but he doesn’t go any further. “Hmm?”

He pulls back to look at her questioningly, but Isla chases his kisses, making him grin knowingly, and she groans because of course she can’t say no to him. “We really will have to be quick,” she says breathlessly, heart thumping at the thrill of anticipation.

Rafe’s smirk is wicked and eager, fingers working to undo her short’s button and zipper. And it’s risky—oh, it’s so risky, but cautious is thrown out the window the second Rafe tugs her shorts off, taking them off all the way and dropping them to the floor. Isla kisses him again, eager to feel the softness of his lips and taste him, as she feels his fingers work at the bows on one side at her hip of her bikini bottom, undoing it to pull it off.

His kisses trail down her jaw, her neck, and Isla’s head tilts back as his lips travel down her sternum, her stomach as he pulls her closer to the edge of the counter before he drops down. Isla’s heart is thunderously in her chest, lips parted as she watches Rafe part her legs further, an eager gleam in his eyes that meet hers as his tongue licks a stripe up her center.

“Oh—God,” Isla shudders, one hand finding the back of his head and the other gripping the edge of the counter, watching and feeling as he licks at her. Electricity shoots through her veins, watching her boyfriend who is dressed up the way he is, as he eats her like she’s his last damn meal, holding back nothing.

Isla’s breaths come out sharply, a moan escaping when Rafe’s teeth graze her clit, the moan becoming a cry when he sucks her clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs before his tongue does something—alternating from fluttering and fucking her, making Isla throw her head back as stars begin to dot her closed lids. Her fingers tighten in his hair, no doubt messing it up, but neither of them seem to care as her hips start moving at their own accord, her breaths coming out like whimpers as she looks down at Rafe, watching him lick and kiss and suck at her.

He looks like he’s in fucking heaven, which only makes her skin fire up more, desire and exhilaration and the slight alarm of potentially getting caught mix together to make her head spin even more. Over the thundering of her heart, Isla can hear the crude sounds of him eating her out, sucking at her lips and tongue licking into her. Rafe knows exactly what to do, showing just as much attention to her clit, and it’s enough for Isla to feel that familiar tensing, electrifying sensation low in her abdomen.

“Oh, God, Rafe—I can’t—I’m gonna—Please.”

Rafe hums against her, giving her clit a slow, wicked suck, and Isla is falling apart with a sharp cry of his name. White flashes across her closed eyes as her climax wracks through her, shaking as Rafe lets her ride through it on his tongue, taking in whatever she can give him.

She’s seconds away from collapsing on her back on the counter—oh, she can’t believe they just did that on the Camerons’ kitchen counter—but Rafe’s arm is around her waist, holding her up as he rises to his feet. When Isla looks at him, trying to catch her breath, a smirk dances on his lips, sinfully shining, as his hand presses to the small of her back, his skin hot against hers.

“Look at that,” Rafe muses cockily as Isla’s slightly widened eyes meet his. “Knew you’d be a good girl.”

Isla exhales sharply, her racing heart only just beginning to settle. “You’re crazy,” she remarks. “And a menace.”

He grins shamelessly. “You like it, though.”

She shakes her head, but smiles nonetheless with heat in her cheeks as Rafe gets some paper towels and helps her clean up. When he helps her off the counter, Isla’s knees shake only a little bit, but she’s able to stand as Rafe ties the strings of her bikini bottoms against her hip. “I can’t believe we just did that,” Isla whispers, hands on her warm cheeks as she watches Rafe tie a cute little bow before he bends to grab her shorts. “On your kitchen counter.”

“It’s no big deal, Isla,” he tells her with a light chuckle, holding her shorts up by the band for her to step into. 

“Your family cooks and eats here!” Isla hisses, one hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as she puts her right foot into the shorts and then the left. “I mean, that’s—”

“Baby, baby, stop worrying,” Rafe cuts in with a gentle laugh, buttoning and zipping her shorts before cupping her cheeks. Despite her mild freak out, she’s more than a little endeared that he practically dressed her after making her see stars. Chivalry isn’t dead, afterall. “I’ll clean up, if that helps.”

Isla’s eyes widen. “You better,” she says before reaching for the long box of Coke cans. “I gotta get back before they start asking questions.”

He nods to the water bottles. “Let me get you a bag for those.” He opens one of the lower cabinets and pulls out a plastic bag, putting the water bottles in there before handing her the bag. “You sure you don’t need help?”

Isla smiles, stepping over to him. “I’ll be fine, babe,” she says, rising on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll call you later?”

Rafe grins. “Looking forward to it.”

*****

The yard of the Chateau, with the view of the water, looks gorgeous.

Under Sarah’s leadership, the girls had transformed the outdoor space into a pretty, Pinterest-inspired dinner area. Isla and Kie had borrowed their dad’s pick up truck and used it to bring the bigger supplies, like folding tables and extra chairs. The sunset makes the sky bleed orange into red, reflecting off the water, and the fairy lights that are stretched along above them and tied around the trees and back porch pillars add a fantasy-like glow. 

The tables, just two and big enough to fit all seven of them, are covered with a rustic linen tablecloth that will probably get stained by the time dinner is over. There are two cute centerpieces of vases stocked with wildflowers that Isla had picked. The girls all each cooked multiple things—especially given there will be three teenage guys with them who can each eat two people’s worth of food. There’s lasagna, chicken pot pie, Cleo’s famous sandwiches, stuffed peppers, garlic bread. Not to mention the other bits of dessert to go with the birthday cake. Over the screened in porch, facing their set up, a custom made Happy Birthday John B! banner hung, along with balloons tied to the tops of their chairs.

“Okay, Pope just texted,” Cleo announces, her phone screen lighting up her face. “They’re ten minutes out!”

“Okay, okay,” Sarah rushes and Isla smiles in amusement because her friend almost resembles a headless chicken. But she looks pretty, unsurprisingly, in a pale yellow summer dress and sandals, hair in loose waves with the front braided back. “We’ve got everything, right?” she asks, her eyes critically looking over the table set up.

Kie nods, brushing away a fallen leaf from the table. “Good to go, dude,” she confirms, grinning excitedly.

They go inside the house and begin bringing the food out, which they made sure is warm and set it out on the table, though they don’t take off the lids or Seran wrap off the top of the dishes so flies or bugs don’t get into the food. Soda and beer bottles are also brought out and Isla bites back a smile as she watches Sarah needlessly—and nervously—straighten out the utensils placed by the plates.

“We’re good, right? This is good?” Sarah asks, looking around.

“Would you calm down?” Isla laughs, walking over and gripping Sarah’s shoulders from behind before hugging her. “John B’s gonna love it.”

Sarah’s nervousness is only a sign of how much she loves John B, and this is totally not the right time or circumstance to suddenly feel the dull ache of yearning deep in Isla’s chest as she thinks of Rafe. It’s accompanied by the sharp sting of jealousy that comes with witnessing her friends be so openly in love and together, while Isla feels as though she can’t share the beginning bloom of her new relationship with Rafe.

Maybe cowardice is holding her back. No matter when or how Isla tells her friends, she knows that their reactions are not going to be good. The guys and Rafe, with his friends, have gotten into plenty of fights and spats over the years, and Isla isn’t sure her friends are willing to move past that. Part of her worries that Rafe could spend the next few years being civil and, hell, even nice to them without their relationship being revealed, and it would still take a while for her friends not to hate him. Sarah would be the easiest to win over, Isla figures, because her relationship with Rafe has gotten better over the last couple of years.

But the Pogue versus Kook mentality that smothers their island is the root of the resentment between them. Perhaps it’s a bit delusional, but Isla hopes that if she can see Rafe has changed, that he’s a better person than the asshole who used to get into fights with JJ, John B, and Pope, then her friends can see it, too. They would just have to get past, well, the past. And that, she fears, isn’t going to be easy.

“What’s with all the lights?” Isla hears John B’s voice, and she pulls out of her thoughts quickly enough to join the others in exclaiming, “Surprise!”

She sees John B’s eyes widen, hands up in front of him as he says, “Oh, shit,” while a grin grows on his face as he looks at them all with shock lighting up his eyes. “What?” He laughs as JJ grabs his shoulders and gives him a shake, grinning, while Pope steals a page out of JJ’s books and gives John B a noogie.

“Happy birthday, John B,” Sarah smiles, walking over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. His arms instantly wind around her waist, and Kie whistles when the two of them share a kiss. When they pull back, Sarah’s smile widens. “Hope you’re ready to eat,” she says, fingers interlacing with his as she pulls him towards the tables.

She lets go of his hand long enough for the rest of them to step in, and Isla grins at her friend as she wraps her arms around him. “Happy birthday, buddy,” she murmurs, giving him a squeeze that he returns. “Feeling old yet?” she laughs as they pull away, patting his shoulder. 

John B’s grin is wide and smug. “Nineteen and never felt younger,” he chuckles, hooking his arm around her neck before they all make their way to the tables. John B lets out a laugh, rubbing his hands together as he says, “Guys, this looks amazing.” To JJ and Pope, he smirks. “No wonder you boys kept me out all day.”

JJ grins, tipping an imaginary hat to Sarah. “We were under strict orders,” he says with a wink as they all sit down.

John B sits at the head, Sarah to his right with Isla next to her and Kie on the other side of Isla. JJ sits to John B’s left, and Pope and Cleo are opposite of Isla and Kie. Among the dishes, there are two three-wick candles adding to the ambiance provided by the fairy lights. “Wow,” John B says again when he sits, smiling in awe as he observes the spread in front of him. “You guys went all out, huh?”

Pope shoots him a grin. “Anything for you, Grandpa,” he says, everyone’s laughter ringing when John B throws him a feigned glare at the knock at his age. Comes with the territory when he’s the oldest of their group.

“Let’s eat!” Sarah says, gesturing for everyone to begin helping themselves.

Their chatter fills the air, along with the clinking of utensils against plates as they serve themselves, piling up their plates with the home cooked dishes. Cleo, having hooked up her phone to the Bluetooth speaker sitting at the base of the tree nearby, plays music in the background, not too loud to overpower their conversation but enough to add to the atmosphere. Dishes are passed back and forth, drinks are poured, and smiles are ever present as the seven of them get lost in this small world they’ve built for themselves. 

The guys regale their adventures from today, which was really just an average day in OBX for them. Out on the boat, fishing, surfing, their usual activities that they never get tired of. It’s why John B didn’t suspect the surprise dinner because nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Isla knows that Sarah also has a romantic dinner planned with him tomorrow, but she wanted all of them to spend his actual birthday together, as a family.

And that’s exactly what they do, constant laughter ringing out in between eating and drinking and taking pictures for their memories. “Yo, we should do these more,” John B comments at one point, reaching for his glass. “Like, these family dinners,” he clarifies, gesturing to the table with the glass and a smile.

Cleo points a fork at him, arching an eyebrow. “You say that now because you and the boys did none of the cooking,” she points out.

Isla snaps her fingers, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Next time, y’all are cooking,” Kie says, raising her eyebrow at all three of the guys. 

“You trust us in the kitchen?” JJ grins at her, leaning back in his chair with an arm thrown over the back of Pope’s chair. Isla doesn’t miss the way JJ is looking at Kie, a dimple in his cheek and his blue eyes glinting with something far more than something that can be clocked under the guise of a platonic relationship. 

Isla rolls her smiling lips into her mouth, hiding it behind the rim of her glass as she sips the Coke. Her gaze flicks to her left, catching Sarah’s own knowing, smiling gaze. On the other side of Isla, Kie snorts out a laugh. “I’m sure you boys are capable,” she muses and oh, man, those two are definitely flirting, whether they realize it or not.

Now Isla is really wondering if something did happen between Kie and JJ, and her sister just hasn’t told her about it. 

When they finish eating dinner, they all take the time to take some pictures before Sarah heads inside. She’s only gone for a few minutes, but Isla sees John B’s gaze constantly going to the house, like he’s looking out for her. It makes Isla smile, even as her phone vibrates and she checks to see a text from Sarah.

From: Sarah👸🏼🩵

coming!!!!

Isla thumbs up the message and goes on her phone’s camera, getting to her feet and wiggling her eyebrows at John B’s questioning look right as the backdoor opens and Sarah walks out. “Happy birthday to you. . .” She starts singing with a laugh, and with Isla recording, the rest of them join in on the singing as Sarah walks towards John B, holding the cake with two candles, reading 19, are lit on top and make Sarah’s smiling face glow.

The group of them sing happy birthday to John B as he laughs, delight lighting up his face as Sarah puts the cake in front of him on the table, her smile wide as JJ hands him a knife to cut the cake. “Cut it, old man!” JJ says over the rest of their cheering.

Isla records John B blowing out the candles before he cuts the cake, Sarah standing next to him with her hands pressed together after clapping, pressed against her smiling lips as she watches John B cut the cake. He takes a slice, then, and offers it to Sarah, and Isla and Kie whistle as he feeds it to her. And Isla is so glad she has that video to play it at their inevitable wedding, where they recreate that very moment with their wedding cake. Isla can already, so easily, picture it as she posts one of the photos they took tonight on Instagram.

“Alright, alright, step aside,” Pope says once they’ve finished, taking the knife from John B. “I’ll cut.”

Cleo slides up next to him. “I’ll give it out,” she says, grabbing the pile of small plates.

They get to work, with Pope cutting slices and placing them on plates, which Cleo hands to the rest of them. When Isla notes that JJ is occupied with Sarah and John B, she quickly but casually makes her way to where Kie is cleaning up more of the table and bringing dishes inside. Isla grabs the lasagna dish and hurries after her sister into the house, and Kie glances at her over her shoulder.

“What’s up?” she asks as they enter the kitchen, as though she knows Isla is after something.

“Come on, be honest,” Isla starts, placing the dish on the counter. “Did something happen between you and JJ the other day?”

Kie presses her lips together as she places the pile of dirty plates in the sink. With her back to Isla, her shoulders seem tense, bracing her hands against the counter before she slowly turns to face Isla. Isla, on the other hand, is watching her with eyes slightly widened with anticipation, biting back the urge to yell I knew it! before Kie even has had the chance to say anything.

“We’re going on a date,” Kie slowly says, lips twitching as though she is struggling not to smile.

But Isla’s jaw has dropped, eyes even wider as she stares at her sister in disbelief. So many thoughts run through her head in response to Kie’s words, her pulse racing in excitement, but the first thing she blurts out is, “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down,” Kie hisses, widening her eyes as she walks towards Isla. “We didn’t wanna say anything to anyone until, you know, after. We don’t wanna bring any attention to it because we kind of just wanna see for ourselves, you know, if anything is there.”

Isla scoffs, forehead creasing as she shoots Kie a really? look. “There’s something definitely there,” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world—because it is.

Kie rolls her eyes before letting out a breath, her shoulders sinking. Her expression shifts, then, and Isla recognizes the guilt that softens her dark eyes, the downwards tilt of her lips. “I know I should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t.” Isla’s lips part, but Kie’s hands suddenly find Isla’s, cutting Isla off. “You’re my sister and, y’know, we tell each other all the shit. You’ve been trying to get me to open up to JJ about my feelings and I finally took your advice, and you’re the first person I should’ve told instead of keeping you in the dark.”

Isla can’t lie—the second Kie had told her about going on a date with JJ, Isla had felt a pang of hurt that Kie hadn’t said a word. That she had purposefully kept it a secret even when Isla questioned her about it earlier. Except. . . That’s hypocritical of her, isn’t it? Isla can’t truly, genuinely, be angry with Kie about this when she is keeping an even bigger secret about her own love life.

So whatever guilt Kie is feeling right now, Isla suddenly gets wracked with it tenfold, her throat drying and stomach bottoming out at the expression Kie wears. At this moment, Isla so badly wants to come clean. She wants to tell her sister about her own love life—her boyfriend. And yet, Isla doesn’t feel ready, and she doesn’t think Kie and their friends are ready to hear it, either. Never mind that it’s John B’s birthday and Isla doesn’t want to take the attention away from her friend and his day. 

That doesn’t stop her stomach from twisting, though, or feeling her skin prickle with guilt as Kie holds her hands. Kie’s secret with JJ is nothing in comparison to what Isla is hiding from everyone.

“Hey, no, stop,” Isla says with a shake of her head, forcing out a laugh through her bone dry throat. She squeezes Kie’s hands reassuringly. “I’m not upset, alright? I get it. You didn’t have to tell me anything until you were ready to.”

Kie blinks a few times, still looking worried. “Are you sure? Because, like, I know we don’t keep that many secrets from each other, if we even do, you know? I just—”

“Kiara,” Isla says, and the use of her full name has Kie pausing. Resisting the urge to swallow the guilt-laden lump in her throat, Isla smiles again. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad you and JJ finally got your heads out of your asses,” she adds playfully, trying to lighten the burden on her chest. It only works a little when Kie laughs.

“Yeah, me too,” she smiles, nodding. To Isla’s surprise, Kie pulls her in for a hug, her arms tight. “Thanks for talking some sense into me about JJ.”

With her chin resting on Kie’s shoulder, Isla’s expression falls and her eyes squeeze shut, feeling like an absolute ass for the hypocrisy that tightens her stomach. Especially with Kie mentioning the lack of secrets between them, which has always been true—except this time. Isla tries reassuring herself that it’s for good reason, that Kie and everyone else aren’t ready to hear the truth that they don’t know even exists. 

Still, with her eyes squeezing shut, Isla pushes back the burning sensation. “Anytime,” she responds to Kie.

Thankfully, her sister doesn’t notice the way Isla’s voice has become hoarse with guilt in just that one word answer.

-----

taglist: @talkfastromance4 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @invisiblexcth @freshsturniolo346 @theafournier97 @danismyth04 @perfectprettypisces @pameluuu @melsbels-zip @gabrielapereze11 @katieeeeb @diary-of-jj @cenzie811148 @hangmanscoming

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

along for the ride

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count:

summary: when joel finds out tommy put out a craigslist ad to get him a date for valentine’s day, he doesn’t expect it to go as well as it does.

author’s note: i finally finished something! was it anything from my extensive wip list? no! don’t think about it too hard! anyways, if you enjoy this fic, please consider giving it a reblog, a comment, or dropping into my ask box 💕

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors dni), no use of y/n, pre-outbreak!joel miller, no mentions of sarah, little shit!tommy miller, blind date, internet safety whomst, vaginal fingering, oral sex, woman on top, p in v, dirty talk, pet names. let me know if i’ve missed any!

“I have a surprise for you,” Tommy says at dinner. Joel pauses, fork scraping against his plate.

“That can’t be good,” he sighs. “What now?”

“Why do you assume it’s somethin’ bad?”

“Last time you said you had a surprise for me, I had chickens in my backyard.”

Tommy laughs. “It’s nothin’ like that this time.”

“Well, then, spit it out,” Joel demands.

Tommy reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper that he opens on the table, smoothing out the creases before sliding it over to Joel.

“Reservation confirmation?” Joel reads. He recognizes the name of the restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters dress in all black and the menu doesn’t have prices listed beside the items. 

“Yep. I got you your first Valentine’s Day date,” Tommy replies proudly. Joel glares at him.

“What do you mean?”

seeking valentine

36M looking to treat a lady to a date to remember. pic attached. email tmill@aol.com with a pic and bio for consideration.

[img01.jpg]

You’re half a bottle of wine deep when you stumble across the Craigslist ad. When you click on the picture, your interest is further piqued by the handsome man that appears on the screen. He’s standing in front of a black pick up truck dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that stretches across his tan muscles. His brown hair is cut short, just enough length for you to notice that it’s beginning to curl across his forehead and by his neck. His beard frames a bright smile that crinkles the corners of his dark eyes.

Whoever he is, he’s hot. He’d be the perfect way to get over being dumped two weeks ago by your boyfriend of two years.

Your logic was lost somewhere between your second and third glasses of wine, which is why you click on the e-mail address in the ad and start typing. The reply is normal, at first, facts about yourself like your name and age and occupation, but you quickly end up derailing the message with an explanation about why this handsome guy should pick you, making sure to include that you’ve already got a reservation at a popular restaurant for the occasion. The picture you add is a recent photo from a cousin’s wedding that your aunt had e-mailed to you. 

Before you can think better of it, you click send. You take one last look at the man’s photo before shutting your laptop and stumbling off to bed to dream of brown eyes and tan skin.

Joel taps his fingers against the white tablecloth, eyes fixed on the door of the restaurant. This is stupid, he thinks. Why did he agree to this? Why did he let Tommy convince him this was a good idea? He should have just told him no and been done with it but somehow he’s here, sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant and feeling like a sore thumb in the only suit he owns. 

He’s lost enough in his thoughts that he doesn’t see you when you first come in, doesn’t realize you’re here until the hostess is walking up with you close behind in a beautiful dress and he suddenly remembers exactly why he agreed to Tommy’s idiot scheme. 

“Joel?” You ask. He stands, nearly knocking the table in his haste to greet you. You lean in for a brief hug and he catches the warm vanilla scent of you before you pull away and smile at him. 

He rounds the table to pull your chair out for you and makes sure you’re settled before returning to his seat. A waiter swoops by to offer the wine menu and explain the pre fixe menu for the evening while he pours two complimentary glasses of champagne into the crystal glasses beside your plates. An awkward silence settles when he leaves, Joel’s leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table as he tries to think of something to say.

“This is weird, right?” You finally say. “This feels weird.”

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s just what I was thinkin’.”

"Oh, thank god." You take a long sip of your champagne. "I can't believe I actually responded to a Craigslist ad for a date."

"I can't believe my stupid brother came up with this whole thing," Joel replies. "I could'a killed him."

Your eyes go wide. "Wait, your brother made the post? Why?!"

"He seems to think that at thirty-six, I should have had a date for Valentine's Day by now," Joel explains. "Why did you respond to the ad?"

"I had been drinking a lot of wine and having a lot of feelings and the internet was unfortunately not helping the situation."

Joel laughs, tension leaving his shoulders as he does. "We're an interestin' pair, huh?"

"Cheers to that," you reply, lifting your glass for him to tap his against with a gentle clink. 

As the dinner progresses, the conversation starts to flow with surprising ease. No topic goes untouched, from jobs to hobbies to a long list of favorites. When you’ve exhausted those topics, you move on to swapping stories about your friends and families. By the time he finishes paying a hefty check (and declining your offer to split the cost), Joel feels like he’s known you for a lifetime.

"I had a really nice time, Joel.”

"Me, too," he replies. Christ, you're pretty, bright eyed as you look at him with a soft smile. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his and can wrap an arm around your waist. "This okay?"

"Mhm," you hum with a little nod. Joel's gaze drops to your mouth and he finds himself wondering what your pretty lips would feel like as he kissed you. Would he be able to taste that chocolate torte from dessert on your tongue?

“Joel?” You whisper. He didn’t even realize how close he’s gotten, a few scant inches separating you now. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

He chuckles. “You want me to?”

“Please.”

Joel kisses you, warm lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. It’s chaste, until it’s not. It’s chaste, until his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip and dips inside to tangle with yours. It’s chaste, until his hands are pulling you closer with a tight grip on your hips and—

“Get a room!” 

You break apart, startled by the shout from someone passing by on the sidewalk. You can’t stop the laugh that breaks free, your shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“You wanna get out of here?” Joel asks. “I can walk you to your car.”

“I took a cab, actually.”

Joel smirks. “You want a ride, sweetheart?” 

Your face grows hot from the look in his eyes, the double meaning to his words not lost. He holds a hand out and you slip your palm against his, fingers folding together so that he can lead you to the parking lot down the street from the restaurant.

Joel opens the passenger door of the truck you recognize from the photo in the ad, helping you step up into the cab and going so far as to pull the seatbelt down, reaching across your body to fasten it. He looks up at as he pulls away, hand dragging across your stomach and making you shiver.

He shuts the door and gets in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and following your directions toward your apartment. At the first red light, he settles his broad palm on your thigh, just above your knee, giving you a little squeeze. Feeling bold, you spread your legs the tiniest bit and Joel takes the invitation for what it is, sliding his hand higher. 

The light turns green and the sudden movement presses you to the back of the seat, jostles you enough that your legs fall open further. You move to close them, but Joel’s hand moves again, high enough now that if you moved the slightest bit, you could probably get some relief from the ache that’s been building since he kissed you.

His pinky stretches, barely grazing your pussy, but it makes you gasp nonetheless, squirming in your seat from the want. At the next red light, he abandons all pretense, slipping his hand beneath the elastic of your panties and dragging his fingers through the embarrassing amount of wetness that’s already gathered there for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. You turn your head to look at him, his sharp jaw clenched tight as he circles your clit with his index and middle finger. “This wet for me already, baby?”

You moan in response, unable to form words as he touches you, alternating between soft strokes and fast circles over your sensitive clit. Your hips chase his every movement, desperate for relief from the pressure building in your core. 

“Joel,” you whimper, grabbing his forearm, digging your nails into the muscle. Your eyes squeeze shut against the overwhelming sensations.

He turns the truck and hastily throws it in park, pulling his hand from you just as you were cresting that wave. You whine at the loss but he shushes you, undoing your seatbelt and getting out of the truck with a slam of the door. It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped because you’ve reached your apartment complex.

The passenger door opens and Joel is there, gripping the door tightly. “Let’s go.”

You lead him to your door on unsteady legs. He follows you inside your apartment, pressed close to your back while you set your bag on the table by the door. 

“Where’s your room?” He asks, hands already rucking up the fabric of your dress. “I gotta finish what I started.”

You hurry down the hall to your room together and you silently thank your past self for cleaning up before your date. Joel wastes no time reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it up over your head and tossing it into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck, even prettier than I imagined,” he groans, dropping to his knees. “Soon as you walked in wearin’ that I knew I was a goner.” He eases your panties down your thighs, helps you step out of them without toppling over. “On the bed.”

You obey without hesitation, crawling across your familiar mattress and lying on your back, head on your pile of pillows. Joel removes his suit jacket, eyes dark as his gaze roams across your body and makes your skin prickle under the intensity. His shirt and pants follow in quick succession, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs that highlight an impressive bulge.

Joel joins you on the bed and you’re hypnotized by the movement of muscle beneath tan skin. He urges your legs apart, calves draped over his broad shoulders to give him room to settle between your thighs. He looks up at you, holding your gaze as he takes his first taste of you with a deep groan you feel through your whole body. 

Your head drops back to your pillow with a shout, legs tensing around Joel’s head. You bury your hands in his hair, holding on tight while he devours you. His tongue circles your clit before dipping down to your dripping center to curl inside of you. A thick finger follows, pressing deep and withdrawing slowly.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Joel says. “How’s that feel, huh?”

“So good,” you moan. “More, please, Joel.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He eases another finger into you, curling them along your front wall with pointed focus. That knot of release tights again, your muscles growing tense with it the longer he moves with your body. He wraps his lips around your aching clit, alternating between sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and working it with his tongue until you’re shouting a string of curses and shatter beneath him.

Joel works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, more puddle than human. He crawls up your body, leaving kisses on what seems like every inch of you as he does and you pull him close when he’s face to face with you, kissing him deeply and chasing the earthy taste of yourself from his mouth.

His hips press against yours, grinding his length against your inner thigh. The kiss turns sloppy, his breath coming in sharp pants and thrusts growing frantic, skin dappled with sweat in the warm air of your room. You tilt your hips, pushing a hand against his shoulder to get him flat on his back with you straddling his waist, stomach flexing beneath you.

He’s deliciously disheveled beneath you with messy hair and kiss swollen lips. His hands find your thighs, sliding upward over your stomach to find your breasts, pinching a nipple between his fingers and making you hiss. Your hips rock over the softness of his belly and you reach behind yourself to palm his cock.

“Look real good like this,” Joel pants, flexing into your touch. 

“Well, you did ask me if I wanted a ride,” you tell him. 

You lean over towards your nightstand, tugging the top drawer open and rummaging around for a condom. Foil packet in hand, you lift off of Joel for a moment to allow him the chance to hastily shove his underwear off before settling back down on top of his thighs and taking his length in your hand with a slow stroke that makes his mouth drop open, cock pulsing against your palm. You lean forward, licking the flushed tip clean of the pre-cum gathered there. 

“You’re killin’ me,” Joel says through gritted teeth. “Wanna feel you, quit teasin’.”

You decide to put you both out of your misery, ripping the condom wrapper and rolling the latex over him. You lift up and he holds his cock steady with a fist around the base as you position yourself over him on your knees and slowly take him into your tight heat, twin moans echoing in the room as you do.

When your hips are flush with his, the wiry curls at the base of his cock grow damp with your arousal as you rock above him, grinding your clit against him and clenching around his length. He holds your hips in a loose grasp, not urging your movements but feeling them as you chase your pleasure. 

“Christ,” Joel moans, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut. He plants his feet, thrusting up as you grind down and making you gasp. “Ain’t lastin’ much longer, baby.”

You lean forward, changing the angle and allowing him to pound inside of you, his cock pulsing as his release nears. You’re right there with him, the drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you making you tip over the edge with a shout muffled into the sweat slick skin of his neck. 

He slams himself deep, cock pulsing as he spends himself into the condom inside of you. You collapse against his chest, the two of you catching your breath in the aftermath. When you roll off of Joel and onto the mattress, he’s quick to pull you back against him, your head resting on his chest.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you interrupt breathlessly. “It was.”

After a moment, Joel quietly asks, “What now?”

“You can stay…if you want.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing along your shoulder. “I want that.”

Joel’s phone rings at an ungodly hour the next morning. He struggles to find his discarded pants in the dark but when he finally unearths the obnoxious device, his greeting is a snapped, “What?”

“He lives!” Tommy cheers from the other end. “It was a fifty-fifty chance you were dead or in bed.”

“What do you want, Tommy?”

“Just checkin’ to see how the date went. Must’ve been pretty good, seein’ as how I’m at your house and you’re nowhere to be found.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he says. He’s about to hang up when he hears Tommy shout, “Wait!”

“What now?” Joel asks.

“Ain’t you gonna thank me?”

Joel snaps the phone shut, tossing it into the piles of clothes and crawling back into bed with you.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 4

Source for pic

Firestarter 4

Word Count: 6856

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: And so the angst begins! If you wish to be added to a tag list, say so! Thank you!

Tag List: @rosidaze

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Previous Chapter| | |Next Chapter|

Saturday comes and it’s very uneventful. Your father says he's got some plans with his friend Mihawk and you use the free time to clean up the rest of your room - there were still a lot of trophies and books from when you were a child, but now it finally resembles a grown-up room. 

Your initial plans for the afternoon included a marathon of trash TV and plopping down on the couch like a parasite, maybe even gobbling up some junk food. But it's such a nice day outside that you decide to do some sunbathing. 

And you do. You dress in a simple red two-piece bikini and lather sunscreen on your body before heading outside armed with your headphones, a book and a towel. The backyard has a little wooden deck with two sun chairs and a small pool. The pool is closed but you're not really interested in it. So you get your little setup and sigh in relaxation. You never had moments like these in the city. Ichiji liked the fancy parties and clubs, there was barely any time the both of you spent together like this. 

In retrospect, you should've seen the end of the relationship coming. You barely had anything else to give each other. It was only a matter of time. 

You cosy up on the chair and stretch. It feels really nice. 

The view of the property is relaxing and the only house you can see in the proximity is Mr. Garp’s. The houses are only separated by a small path and you can see the windows perfectly well. You know which one was Luffy’s old room, you have been there a bunch of times, but you don't quite know which one is Ace's. 

You try to guess based on the knowledge you have of the inside of the house. It's either the one to the right of Luffy’s, or it's the one that faces the side of the house. 

A small smile creeps its way to your lips as you remember your time together at the firestation. Being with Ace felt really natural. You didn't have to force any conversation, he made you laugh and, damn, the chemistry. The sexual tension was crazy. 

But there is only a slight problem. You aren't looking to be just another one. You are no longer in that phase of your life when you're just looking for fun. You want something actually meaningful. And Ace is not meant for meaningful relationships. He isn't capable of it. 

You exchanged some texts with Nami last night saying that you had fun and she had probed you so hard that you caved and admitted you feel very attracted to Ace. But then you probed her, and every assumption you had about him was correct. He is a player and leaves behind him a long trail of broken hearts. He's all about the chase and the conquest. Once he gets the kiss, the girl, the fuck… It's over. 

And you refuse to be just that. 

The afternoon rolls by lazily and you have already rolled over on your back and on your front, just like a happy kitten. Until you see a movement in Ace's house. 

It’s him. 

You were right, his room is next to Luffy’s. He stands in front of the window - shirtless - and unaware that you are there, apparently, since he’s staring somewhere else, his signature cheeky grin in place, and you smile. Damn, he’s cute. 

Off-limits, player, just a crush! 

Can he see you? Could he be tempted to join you in the sun? 

Immediately your head starts to create interesting scenarios for both of you to play out. 

Ace arriving with his cocky smirk and telling you that you look gorgeous. 

Ace setting a knee in the middle of your legs to pry them open as his hand cradles your neck to pull your face up. 

His other hand clutching your hip for dear life. His tongue licking the sweat from your body, from your belly to your chest. 

The hottest kiss you could ever dream of, eliciting all kinds of choked noises and mewls from your mouth. 

You take a deep breath and fan your hat over your face. Maybe it's time to get out of the sun? You're getting pretty hot! 

You gather your book and start to get up when you take another look at Ace's window. And then instantly freeze and regret having looked at all. 

There is a young brunette girl in front of the window, grinning while she closes the curtains. 

Your breath catches for an instant. And then the dread in your stomach spreads its icy tendrils up to your heart. 

It's nothing short of a surprise. It's what he does. His modus operandi. But the realisation still stings. Just last night he told you that he's always thinking about you. Your mind told you, at that moment, that it was a line he used on every girl, yet, your heart thought differently. 

But today, not even 24 hours later, he has a girl in his room. 

You refuse to cry. Even if the tears are more of frustration and about how gullible you are, more than anything else. 

Yet, you should've known. You were warned. 

-*-

Ace keeps sending you texts asking how you are and if you want to hang out. You keep leaving him unread. You're still pretty pissed at him, even though you know you have no right to be. He's not your anything. 

Then you get another text. It's Nami this time, so you open it.  

You miss Luffy! Ace told you he also works at the firestation, but since he no longer lives with his grandfather, you still haven’t gotten the chance to hang out with him. You’ll definitely go to this party. Even if you’re sure to run into Ace and whatever girl he’s with right now…

This triggers Nami, so she instantly calls you. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Forget it, Nami. It's nothing new. I just saw him through the window of his room with some girl.” You force out a laugh. “Nami, it's just a silly attraction. Nothing else. I just think he's really hot!”

“Babe, if you keep thinking about him I think you should just ride that cowboy�� Scratch that itch… You get my drift? Take it out of your head and then that's it!”

“You sound ridiculous.”

“Yet no wiser words have ever been spoken.”

“Maybe, but I'm not interested in being just another notch under his belt. I'd much rather be just a friend.” You reiterate. 

“From what I hear, I’d say it's your loss!” She chuckles. “But you're still coming to the party, right?”

“Yes, obviously.” You agree with a chuckle. 

“And if Ace's there with his bimbo?”

“Good riddance to both. I just want to be friends with him, anyway.”

You can almost hear the eye roll on the other end. But to her credit, she doesn't say anything. 

“Deal. We'll meet at your house to get ready. It's closer. I'll tell Robin.”

You agree and after hanging up, there's still a small smile pressed upon your lips. Nami is a friend and she makes you happy. Ace is also a friend. You shouldn't be mad at him. 

Therefore, you open his texts and finally answer him, claiming to have been busy. Forgetting all about the brunette bimbo and simply focusing on your friendship. 

Just like Nami, he gets tired of texting and calls you. 

“Hey gorgeous. I thought you were ghosting me.”

You lie back on the bed and roll your eyes. “Don't call me gorgeous. And I could never ghost you. I've just been busy.”

“Yeah, I get it. I've had a busy day as well.” He chuckles and the cold in your stomach spreads. 

“I bet…” You mumble. 

Friends! Friends! Friends! 

“I can't call you princess and I can't call you gorgeous, what do you want me to call you then?”

Why is his chuckle so damn sexy over the phone? 

“My name, genius! What else?”

“I'll get back to you about that.” Another chuckle. “Have you heard about my little brother’s party?”

“Nami is my friend, how could I not?” You chuckle. 

“Right, right. Are you going?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Me too, obviously.”

Then he proceeds to tell you about the busy day he had helping his grandfather with some affairs at the house and about some paperwork he still had to do from this week's occurrences at the firestation and you tell him about your day. 

He doesn't mention the brunette. And neither do you. 

Somehow, the time goes by and you end up talking with Ace for almost two hours straight. Just like you were musing earlier, he's so easy to talk with. So natural, so fun. 

Shanks knocks lightly on the door and pokes his head inside. “Bug? Dinner's ready.”

You rise immediately, sitting on the bed with wide eyes. Dinner already? You didn't even realise it was already dinner time, and you had meant to cook it. Shanks must have realised that you were taking too long on the phone and did it himself. 

“Oh! Right. I'll be right down, dad. Ace I've got to go. Talk to you tomorrow, bye.”

Shanks bites his cheek, his brows scrunched. It looks as if he wants to say something, but he's considering that it's not his place to do so. So he smiles at you and begins to walk downstairs to the kitchen and you follow. 

The first minutes of the meal are spent in silence until you start telling him about your day. Then, abruptly he talks. 

“Bug… Is your relationship with Ace advancing?”

The fork stops midway to your mouth and you feel your cheeks burn. 

“I know it's not really my place. You are an adult and I was not a present father in your life. Believe me, I regret it most days. Maybe if I had tried a little harder, you and your mother could still be together and you'd have grown up with me. Maybe I had more right to butt into your business. But I worry… and… well…”

“Dad, Ace and I are just friends. Nothing else. He's really easy to talk with and we have a lot of the same interests. He's fun. But that's it. Don't worry.”

You can almost see the relief in Shanks’ face. And you almost feel bad about the way Ace really makes you feel. Because your father's worry is not at all misplaced. Ace is dangerous for impressionable hearts. 

“Friends? Okay, okay. That's good.”

You just have to make sure your heart is not impressionable and that friends are all you and he will ever be. That's all you want to be. 

-*-

The next morning passes by pretty fast as you help your dad with the chores and get the horses and the ponies ready for the Summer Jubilee. Shanks is going to have a horse riding station, mostly for the kids, but sometimes adults like to join too. 

“How's your back, dad?”

“I'm managing. I'm still taking the pills.” 

“Don't overdo it, alright? Are you sure you don't need me there to help you?” 

“No, baby, Beckman will be there to help me. You know he loves these horses. You go and have fun at your party.” 

Benn Beckman is one of your dad’s oldest friends. They used to play some sport together in school and they both never left town, so it’s a natural friendship, like yours with Nami and Robin. The festival only starts on Monday, but the vendors and concessionaires that will have their businesses at the fair are going to use Sunday to set up and you feel as if you should be helping your dad instead of going to a party. 

Shanks winks, and you laugh. “I will, dad.”

“Just not too much fun…” He grumbles, beneath his breath and you roll your eyes as you climb the stairs to take a bath and wait for the girls. 

-*-

“Ohhh, I've got the perfect dress for you!” Nami claps excitedly and you roll your eyes to the back of your head. 

“I have my own clothes, Nami! What is it with you and trying to get me into your clothes?”

“Funny, she always tries to get me out of them…” Vivi muses and you laugh out loud. 

“Honey, don't take this the wrong way. You're beautiful, but your clothes are a bit… plain… don't you want to dress to impress?” She winks. 

“Not really, no.”

“Too bad. This dress is perfect. Vivi and Robin already agreed and I won't take no for an answer. Ace will be blown away!”

You sigh and let Nami dress you up as if you were a barbie doll. There’s no use in fighting her, really. And you hate to admit it, but she does own some sexy clothes. And you do want to blow Ace away.

Though you’re having a hard time admitting it.

-*-

As you cross the tiny pathway to Mr. Garp’s house - turns out ‘at Luffy’s’ means there because Luffy’s flat is too small to fit his many, many friends - your heart starts to beat faster. You know Ace will be there. And you know there will be girls all over him. But you should also know that you can't be jealous, because you're nothing but a friend to him. 

And that's all you'll ever be. 

Still, you feel as if an army of tiny ants are crawling on your insides because everything is moving and squirming in there and you are actually quite nervous to meet him. You guys had a wonderful chat yesterday, but you also knew he had been with another girl before speaking with you. 

And Nami has already told you: Ace is a chaser. He likes the difficulty in seducing women - not that it's difficult for him, you bet. You need to keep repeating in your head: you don't want to be just another girl! 

Are you obsessing? 

Shaking your head, you try to steady your heels on the uneven path. Why did you listen to Nami? You tried to put on sneakers, but after she dressed you in the most shockingly slinky, short red dress with a draped cowl neckline and thin gold chain straps, she almost had a heart attack when she saw your feet. 

She screamed sacrilege and almost hit you in the head with the gold heels. You kept repeating that it was too much, but none of the girls listened to you. To be fair all of them look equally stunning and sexy, so you don't really feel that out of place. 

Still, it's hard to walk in these things and you're pretty sure you’ll be taking them off at one point or another as the party progresses.

As you pass the threshold of the front door, you get immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. It smells like sweat, pot and booze, and the mixture makes you wrinkle your nose. 

“Who are all these people?” You ask Nami, screaming over the loud music. 

“Luffy has many friends!” She answers with a laugh. 

Right. He has many friends but they're definitely from out of town because you're pretty sure that he has more people inside this house than the entire population of your hometown. 

Robin wanders away saying she saw Sabo and she wants to say hi. Nami winks suspiciously at her and the raven-haired girl blushes and giggles. Then, Nami does a little crowd check and smiles. 

“Oh, I see my friend Lola. Will you be alright by yourself or do you wanna come?” She asks with concern and you nod vigorously. You are already seeing some familiar faces, and you won't mind mingling for a while. She smiles and saunters over with her girlfriend, also ready to mingle. 

Sighing, you set out to find a drink, first. You're in the right mood to get wasted after thinking about Ace sucking face with half of the pretty girls at this party! And free booze is just the right way to do it. Sanji is there and you take the cocktail he effortlessly makes for you with a big smile but you don't get to chat much as his drinks are in high demand and he excuses himself to go cater to another beautiful lady. 

You chuckle at his ways and take a sip of the drink he made for you. Perfect. 

You hear your name being shouted and turn around with wide eyes. It's Luffy. You hug him and he hugs back, introduces you to some of his many friends and both of you speak as if you never stopped talking at all. 

“I'm so glad you're back in town again! Ace can't stop talking about you!” He grins and you blush. 

“Right. I bet.”

But, even though you wouldn't mind knowing what Ace has to say about you, Luffy is also in high demand and gets summoned by a man with a long nose and curly black hair, who's smiling at him. Excusing himself, Luffy promises to find you again and you promise to hold him to that. 

You take another look around the room, trying to find old friends amidst the sea of new faces, but your eyes are immediately drawn to him. In all his shirtless glory, obviously. And, even more obvious is the way there's a brunette sticking to his side. An arm draped around his waist and dreamy eyes on her face. 

It figures. The party has just started and already Ace has chosen his catch of the day. Or maybe it's the catch from yesterday?

It irks you so much! Why does he have to be such a player? No, screw that! He can be a player all he wants, he just needs to stop giving you attention and making you feel special! He needs to back off! So you can move on! Geez, you look like a teenager with her first serious crush. 

Chugging the cocktail in one go, you cringe at the aftertaste and quickly ask Sanji to make you another one. You've made up your mind. You just need to avoid Ace all night. If he doesn't speak with you, there's no chance for him to enchant you with his deceiving words. There. You're a genius. 

With this happy resolution in mind and a new tasty cocktail in hand, you decide to leave this room. First step to avoiding Ace, don't be where he is. 

Swaying your hips to the beat of the song, you make your way to the backyard so you can breathe some fresh air and though there are many people outside, the open makes everything better and you inhale deeply. 

“Heeey beautiful.” A slurred voice echoes near your ear as a grimy hand moves your hair away from your shoulder, from behind. “Is that dress on sale? Because it's 100% off at my place!”

You cringe as you turn and slap the hand away from you. “First of all: eughhh! Secondly, don't touch me, creep.” The man looming near you smirks and licks his lips as his eyes rake your body from head to toe, drinking you in, and he further invades your space. 

“Come on,” he snorts and you realise he's clearly inebriated or high, or maybe both. “Dressing like that, what were you expecting?” He reaches and tries to touch you, but a large hand, coming from a presence behind you, wraps around his wrist and stops him. 

“Respect, obviously.” A low voice rumbles over your head as you turn your head around and meet the cold gaze of Ace, boring his dark eyes straight into the boy in front of you. Because in the face of Ace, he's nothing but a scared little boy. He steps in front of you and smirks. “Now apologise and beat it, before I kick you out of my house.” You're impressed with how he managed to speak such menacing words with a smile and still sound threatening. 

The boy mutters a hastened apology and escapes, tail between his legs. 

You face Ace with a frown still upon your lips. So much for avoiding him. Your plan failed and you're not a genius. You're actually an idiot. “Why do you insist on being my knight in shining armour? Especially since you're never wearing anything other than shorts!” You reply deadpan as you point at his naked torso. 

He's checking you out. His eyes linger suggestively on your exposed legs - Nami, once again, knew who she was dealing with when dressing you - and a cheeky smirk curves his cheeks upwards and makes his freckles dance just for you. “I know you like seeing my muscles.” He flexes and guffaws as you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, me and all these young, impressionable college girls. Smooth, Ace.” You muffle a snort by taking another sip of the amazing cocktail and close your eyes in bliss. “Thank you, but I know how to defend myself from creeps. You can go now. I see a lot of lonely girls ogling you. I'm sure you have better things to do.” You mention suggestively. 

It still stings to know Ace is a player. And that you almost fell for his act. Because how can you not fall for the hot, freckled, funny and helpful fireman who compliments you and pays attention to you? Until you realise you're just another one. And you're not special nor ever were. Not to him, not to anyone. You're just… just… 

You. 

Sighing, you finish your drink in one gulp and turn inside to get another. Maybe this time you'll bring a bottle with you. 

“Woah, easy there, tiger. Don't chug your drinks like that. They taste sweet but they pack a mean punch! Sanji doesn't go light on the alcohol unless you specifically tell him to.”

You eye his drink and, honestly, don't even care what's in it. Locking eyes with him and burning him with your gaze, you snatch the red cup from his hand, ignoring his protests and warning words. “Well, boo-freaking-hoo!” With a mock toast gesture, you chug the whole thing in one gulp.

And regret it immediately.

You cough and wheeze, eyes brimming with tears as you try to breathe through your nose to calm the burn in your throat. Ace just stares at you and crosses his arms over his bare chest. The drink was nasty! It was like pure alcohol. 

“What the hell?” You sputter. 

“I told you, you couldn't handle it.”

“Shove off, Ace!” You drawl as you turn back inside in search of a bottle. God, this man infuriates you. He doesn't follow you inside and you don't care for the empty feeling that leaves in your stomach. You'll soon fill up that spot with some booze. 

Securing a bottle, you make your way back outside, expertly avoiding the place where Ace was, and start mingling with some old school friends. Time flies in an instant. Either that, or the vodka you snatched is really good, because suddenly everything seems to be spinning around you. 

You make up an excuse and try to find your way back inside, ready to find Nami and tell her this was a terrible idea and you are going to go home. But, instead, you take another chug of the bottle and wince. The numbness of the alcohol is quite refreshing, maybe a bit more won't hurt. 

But your steps are uneven and you keep bumping into people and apologising. Someone grabs you and pulls you into a dance and you can't quite tell if you know the person or not. It looks like he has spiky green hair and a loop for a nose ring. His teeth seem really sharp but that might be just the alcohol talking. He starts to get handsy because you're losing your balance, but soon, his hands go from your waist to your hips and try to get lower. 

Your brain clicks and you shove the man away but you are even dizzier from the dance and ready to fall or pass out until a strong pair of hands grabs your waist and sets you over his shoulder unceremoniously. 

Before you protest, you realise it's Ace just by the smell of him. That darn smokey wood and fresh pine! A freaking punch in the gut just as you were having fun. “Let go!” You slur into his back as you start to kick your feet in the air. 

“Stop it! Your dress is riding up! This thing is freaking short.” He hisses. 

“I don't care! Let go of me, Ace, I mean it!” You keep kicking and sure enough, your dress is almost exposing your butt, so you feel him pull the fabric down and settle his warm, big hand over the gap of your thighs and your butt so it doesn't ride up again. 

That action stops your squirming immediately. 

You start to take notice of your position: breasts are squished against his back and bare legs feeling all of the heat emanating from his chest. And his smell… God, his intoxicating smell is making your head spin. Or perhaps that’s from all the alcohol. 

Why is he with you? Shouldn't he be sucking face with some bimbo? 

You realise you still have the bottle in your hand, so you take another sip as Ace carries you up the stairs. You've been upstairs at Luffy’s house before. In his room, never in Ace's. Because that's definitely where he's taking you. So in with another sip. 

“Stop drinking!” He hisses again and sets you down at the top of the stairs. You stumble and hit your back against the wall with a low whine. At least you're steady now. 

Grinning, you raise the bottle, your eyes never leaving his harsh stare. “Make me.” You taunt and take another sip. Ace grunts as his hands tousle his dark hair. 

“You're infuriating.” 

“Hmm, hmm.” You chuckle. “As I thought. You're all bark and no bite.” You take a step to the side to descend the steps, aiming to get another bottle, or to find Nami, or leave. Whatever. Anything to get away from Ace's intoxicating presence. 

But the stairs move! Or the floor does. You're not certain. What you do know is that you're about to fall. 

But, obviously, you don't get to fall, because your knight is right there for you, holding your waist and pulling your body against his. Ace’s head nuzzles against the crook of your neck while his arm circles your waist, protectively. You feel pressure on your hips just as he digs his digits firmly against your flesh, his hip fixation driving you crazy once more as your toes curl. 

A gasp leaves your parted lips as he inhales your scent and then you moan softly as he exhales hot breath against your neck, trailing goosebumps with his lips and grunting near your ear. 

He lets go abruptly and wraps a hand around your wrist, tugging and pulling you towards his bedroom. Is this going to happen? Are you going to fall into his trap? 

Because you're drunk? 

Opening the door he throws you onto his bed with a growl and turns. You hear him breathing heavily but you can't do anything as everything is spinning around you and, even if you wanted to, you couldn't quite get up yet. 

After a moment you hear his feet shuffle as he turns back to you. “Sleep.” He approaches and snatches the bottle from your hand. “And enough of this.”

He turns to leave the room but you grab his wrist. Were you going for the bottle? Or was it really his wrist you meant to grab? 

“Stay.” You whisper against your will. 

You can almost hear his internal battle raging outside. You're drunk, and you know he doesn't want to take advantage. But you do. 

Do you? 

His jaw clenches and he sits by the foot of the bed, away from you, his face turned as he's assaulted by a grim look. 

You can't think too much about this or it will never happen. You're drunk. So you should just go with it. You're sure it'll feel good. It will help you process whatever it is you think you feel for him and then, finally, forget him. What did Nami say? 

Ride that cowboy, scratch that itch. 

Damn, riding him does sound good. Who cares about the dumb bimbos he has downstairs waiting for him? Who cares if he'll just find another girl to chase after you?

Sex sounds pretty damn appealing now. 

“So how does this work, exactly?” You start, getting on your knees and approaching his body, one hand caressing his naked shoulders and now he can't help but stare back at you. “You seduce the girl, or barely do anything because you have all that!” You point at his body with a snort. “And then after you've fucked her, you move on? It's like she never existed, nothing happened, just another notch under your belt?”

You ask while he keeps staring at you. You can't read anything in his dark eyes. His freckles seem lifeless, his smirk is gone and he doesn't seem amused at all. 

“Because if that's how it works, maybe we should have a go at it. You just fuck me and we both move on. Because I can't take this anymore, Ace.” Your voice is barely a whisper. You move closer and straddle his lap. Your dress rides up and you buckle your hips against him, feeling his hardness against your achy, needy core as he muffles a grunt against his pressed lips. His hands twitch as if he wants to grab you but they remain planted firmly against the bed. His eyes never leave yours, yet he remains silent. “I can't be this hung up on you anymore, Ace. So just get this over and done with, will you? So we can both move on.”

Tilting your head to the side and digging your nails into his scalp, you lean in for the kiss, ready to take his lips, his tongue, his hands and his dick. And then his rejection, his aloofness and the hurt of seeing him with someone else. 

That is the whole Ace package. 

But maybe that's what it takes to stop obsessing over him. 

Except you don't take anything because he stops you. Two strong hands on your shoulders push you back as his gaze falls down, facing your bodies where they are close. Would be connected, even, if not for the clothing between you. Ace is breathing heavily and you can feel the tension oozing out of him in hot waves. 

“Stop.” He says your name firmly. And you know a ‘no’ when you hear one. Even though this one hurts like hell. 

Nodding, it takes you a few turns to swallow the hard lump that formed in your throat. As you get off his lap and fix your dress, you notice that the world is spinning once again and this time it's almost unbearable. 

“It's not that I don't want you. Trust me.” He groans. “It's just… you're not even going to remember this conversation tomorrow, let alone be of sane mind to consent to sex.” He snorts and shakes his head. “When-... if we do this, I want you to remember all of it.”

You roll your eyes at him and scoff loudly. “I would rather forget.” You mumble and lie back, curling to the side and closing yourself off. As if you would like to remember the time when Ace used you and dumped you - if it happened. Forgetting is much easier than getting all of his attention. 

He sighs and gets up. Then he takes off your shoes and tells you to close your eyes and sleep. You close them, with a heavy heart and a heavier conscience. You do hope you don't remember this tomorrow. The way you threw yourself at him and the way he swiftly rejected you. 

Which one is worse, really? 

Covering your body with a blanket, he puts the trash can near the bed in case you need it later - you’ll probably need it. There’s a heaviness on top of your eyes, the beginnings of a throbbing headache, and a moment passes but Ace doesn't leave. His presence still fills the room, still fills you and makes your heart ache. But you don't open your eyes to acknowledge him - or your pain - and your breath starts to even out. 

You hear him sigh and sense him leaning above you, his head hovering near yours. “You would never be just another notch under my belt…” He murmurs and kisses your forehead gently before leaving you alone in his room.

-*-

You’re woken up either by the bright sun shining directly on your eyelids, or by the throbbing headache in your temples, you’re not quite sure.

Either way, your body says that it’s too early for this, and it’s too freaking hot. When it gets this hot, you usually lean against the wall on the side of your bed to absorb the coolness from the bricks. So you turn to the side and scoot over to mould yourself against the cool wall.

Except there’s no wall. 

And there’s no more bed.

So you fall with a soft yelp, dragging the blanket - which is rolled around your torso, arms and face, for some reason - and fall onto the hard floor.

Wait.

You fall, alright, but not onto the hard floor. It’s firm. And it’s a body. It’s grunting.

Huffing, you try to stand up but the blanket makes the job difficult and the room is still spinning from all the alcohol you ingested yesterday, so you sit, on top of the body, stradling the man below you, and trying - in vain! - to either get up or to get rid of the blanket, all the while muffling apologies for the minor ‘inconvenience’. 

In the middle of your desperate plight to escape your situation, you hear another low grunt and feel two strong hands grab your hips and pin you against his body, making it impossible to move.

“Stop. Squirming. Please.” 

It’s Ace. You stop immediately, your free hand grasping at the surface in front of you - his abs. Feeling your face burn up at the touch you realise the reality of your situation: You’re both on the floor, with you straddling him and fondling his perfect six-pack - maybe stop touching him! - and he’s very hard between your legs. 

“I-I’m sorry. It’s… the blanket…” You start, your face hidden by the thrice-damned blanket. Ace grunts again and you wince at the loss of contact when he removes one of his hands and rips the blanket off you with one swift motion. 

The pull disrupts your balance, and you dig your nails into his stomach - that’s sure to leave a mark - and tighten your legs around him to try and steady yourself. You know he doesn’t mean to, but Ace bucks his hips up with your squirming and you barely bite back a whine at the friction that creates in your core. 

“Fuck.” He mutters with a desperate exhale, lifting his torso up and facing you.

This is dangerous territory. And now you’re free, so you should get up. Why don’t you? 

Ace’s fingers grip your hips tighter. When did his hand return to your hip? You didn’t notice it, it’s like it belongs there. And why are you now grabbing his shoulders? His eyes are all pupil and he doesn’t blink while he drinks you in. You know you must be a mess. Hair all over the place, smudged makeup, dress straps off your shoulders… yet the look he’s giving you makes you feel like you’re the only girl that matters in the world. 

“Don’t do that…” You whisper. You want him to stop looking at you like that, to stop making you feel special and wanted, because you can’t take another heartbreak, and there’s no way that something you start with Ace won’t end in heartbreak. So you need to nip this in the bud even before it blooms. 

“Right.” His voice is hoarse and ragged as his hold tightens around your waist, lifting you with ease and setting you aside, removing himself from the situation. He grabs a discarded shirt from the back of his chair and leaves the room cursing and tousling his hair. 

You only meant for him to stop looking at you like that. You didn’t want him to leave completely. Right? Because now there’s a sudden emptiness inside and around you and you’re not quite sure how to be complete again. 

Sighing, you massage your temples with both hands. The tension between the two of you is becoming unbearable. Should he just fuck you and get it over with so you could each go your own way?

Why does this line of thought feel so familiar?

Lowering your head, you inhale and almost gag at the smell of your dress. At some point yesterday you must’ve spilled an entire drink on yourself, because it smells like the back alley of the town's dingiest tavern. 

You test your stability by slowly lifting yourself with the help of the bed, and it works. Then you look around and, sure enough, there’s a half-crumpled t-shirt lying on the chair, the same place he took the other one from. Grabbing it, you take a tentative sniff. It doesn’t smell bad. If anything, it smells like him.

It smells amazing.

Even though Ace closed the door when he left, you turn your back and quickly discard your dress. You curse when you realise you’re not wearing a bra because the dress didn’t allow for one, but you still pull the shirt over you. It falls to your thighs, almost at the same height as the dress.

“Hmm, hmm.” Ace’s grunt startles you and you turn swiftly to the door. Did he see you change? “Here.” He extends a glass of water and two pills. His eyes are locked on the ceiling and there’s a slight blush on his cheeks. He saw you.

You choose not to acknowledge the fact.

“Thanks.” You take the pills and almost inhale the glass of water because you’re so thirsty. Then you sigh in satisfaction and set the glass on his desk. “I took your shirt, I thought you wouldn’t mind… seeing as you barely wear them.”

That elicited a very small chuckle from him, but the curl of his lips didn’t even reach his freckles. 

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“No. Not much. I think I remember you bringing me here, but then, nothing. I must’ve blacked out immediately, right?” You chuckle and miss the pained grimace on his face.

“Yeah, that was it.”

“Sorry for taking your bed and making you sleep on the floor.” He shrugs. “Sorry for falling on top of you… I thought I was in my room, you see, there’s usually a wall there and-...” You stop your wild gestures and chuckle. 

Why does this feel weird all of a sudden?

“I guess I should get going. Shanks might be worried.” You know your father will never say anything about you spending the night away or drinking, you’re no longer a kid, but he will still worry.

“I texted him last night to tell him you were alright and spending the night.”

You flush as your eyes meet his. “You told him just like that?” He nods and you groan. “Great, he’s going to think we have something.”

“Who would want that, right?” He sounds sarcastic.

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem!” He grunts again and you somehow pick up on the fact that he’s angry at you, or frustrated at least. 

“Clearly you do!” Taking a step forward, you try to approach him with your hand extended, but he turns his face away from you with a ‘tsk’ and steps back. For some reason your heart sinks and you feel cold. 

“Got it. I’m the problem. I’ll get out of here, no worries.” Maybe he wanted to spend the night with some girl and you being in his bed got in the way of that? That had to be it. Why else would he be so upset?

Grabbing your shoes from the floor and your crumpled, smelly dress, you make your way to the door, brows knitted together and lips pursed. 

“I’m so sorry for getting in the way of your lay. Maybe you should’ve just dumped me in Luffy’s old room instead of your own. Then you would’ve been able to fuck whomever you wanted.”

You stomp past him and you don’t know why you have tears stinging in the back of your eyes. Might be because of the hangover? It has to be.

“So sorry for the inconvenience.” You shout before running down the hall, down the stairs and to your home.

[chaysreality222]

Introduction to my Hogwarts Dr Self!

hey guys, it's c! in this post i'll be introducing you to myself in my hogwarts dr :) i feel it will give you guys a more in depth of my hogwarts dr. to put it out there to not confuse anyone, i have not yet shifted to this dr. i merely want to share about it so that when i do shift, you guys have some backstory <3

my time ratio is 1 hr = 1 week. i'll be shifting to 4th year- a little before 4th year technically. my first day will be the day of the quidditch world cup which is also the day of my birthday! i'll wake up on an early morning at my house by my s/o (i scripted in my irl boyfriend!!). i made my bf a potter meaning he'd be harry's older brother (also because when he wears glasses i and other people say he looks like harry potter).

ps: i am shifting for the plot but i've changed it a little bit and have included myself in the story instead of fully making myself the main character. meaning i don't want to take harry's place but always somehow be connected to the things that happen.

introduction + backstory

name: c(real name) authorne-lestrange hogwarts house: hufflepuff year: 4th blood status: pureblood patronus: a dragon wand type: 13 in. Ebony wood intertwined with silver, glistening unicorn hair

backstory: so in my dr, i am the daughter of leta lestrange. due to the lestrange reputation, she wants me to go by the last name authorne which was supposedly my father's name who has passed long before i was born. also so that it would make it hard for voldemort and the other death eaters to find me, due to my mother making an unbreakable vow that she and i would be by voldemorts side when the time was right. trying to imply that it's the destiny for all lestrange to serve voldemort. leta has constantly thought of any and all loop holes out of the vow. she doesn't want that life for me and so she got dumbledore to take me in at hogwarts thinking i'll be safer there.

disclaimer: i understand that the timeline between fantastic beasts and when harry exists is like a 70 year long stretch but i'm shifting to a reality to where she is alive to be my mum.

my house

located: cambridge, england exact address: unknown

here are some pics of the house! go to my pinterest board to see more details or rooms of the house to get a better look. of course, the middle photo is my bedroom where i'll be first waking up in my dr! i'm really excited to wake up there and take a look around. i'm also excited to be here on break or holidays!

you may have some questions on why the address is unknown. i scripted it to be like that because i felt that's something leta would do to keep me safe. also adding to the fact, i scripted she placed a protective barrier around the whole property that leads anyone who's looking in from the outside to hear nothing and see nothing but a thick forest.

my pets

their names are soren and sage! soren is my male barn owl and sage is my female cat. i'm allergic in my cr so i scripted that out so i can experience having a cat lol. i just had an idea that maybe i should script that sage fly's around on sorens back?? imagine how cute that would be.

my dorm at hogwarts

so i scripted that i have a personal dorm there at hogwarts and honestly, i'm kinda in love with the room and bathroom <3 as you guys can see here, i have a pics of my dorm! the first image, that door is the entrance into my room and then the second door in my third image is the door to my bathroom. for the last image, i added one pic of how my bathroom looks like.

i think that's pretty much it! i'm so excited to shift to my hogwarts desired reality and finally experience life as a wizard. i'm working on my shifting routine as of right now to help me get in the mood and get ready to shift! get ready for shifting storytimes <3 as always, Happy Shifting!

xoxo, c.

[fakezircon]

My latest patch! Shoutout to NavyWolf from my twitch chat for stringing words together in a phrase that stuck with me long enough for me to make this out of it!

More chatter and some progress pics under the cut :)

If you are wondering what this is the best explanation I can give is during last February I decided I wanted to do a swear jar thing on stream and during some on stream planning this phrase was said in chat. Somehow it just evoked such a powerful mental image for me that I had to make it something real. And reflecting on that, I feel like a lot of the art I make is over that exact same reason.

With how busy school had been I didn't actually start work on this patch till the end of March, where I dusted off my pixel art skills for the pattern.

^the first sketches

After the pattern was finished up I basically just spent every moment of my free time (and some time I should've used for school work) working on the patch. I don't know why I was in such a rush since my own self imposed deadline could've stretched to basically next February, however my new sweater doesn't have any patches on it so I guess I wanted something for it as soon as I could.

I don't have much else to say about the process, it was fairly straightforward as far as patches go. I did find a nifty little website that includes colour picking with actual DMC or Anchor thread colours. I'll probably be using it from here on out for planning, although knowing me I will still be going back and forth between that and my phone's shitty little pixel art app.

And the progress gif!

Amazingly this one has more individual photos in it than the minecraft patch, but I think that's mostly the text cause I had an idea for how I wanted it to look in this gif once it was all done anyway.

And here it is in it's place of honour, same spot as the minecraft patch on my other sweater if you were curious:

[solarsturniolo]

Part 2 of frat boy from hell

@matts-myloverboy this is for u 🤍

1. very egotistical for someone that is not conventionally attractive

2. lied to me about his body count??? for whatever reason??

3. he lowkey looks like the dream man (yall i wish i was joking, my friend and i did a side by side comparison and the resemblance is…)

4. he’s not funny

5. he’d cancel plans so many times, it drove me up the fucking wall

6. he begged to see my ass tat for about a month because i got it out of spite when i cut him off the first time (i always do something to make myself hotter after men disappoint me).

7. i hadn’t spoken to him in a month and he broke no contact with me WHILE I WAS AT A CONCERT. he proceeded to text me the entire last half of the concert.

8. the same night, he added my friend (that i went to the concert with) on snapchat and tried to slide into her dm’s (it failed because nobody finds him attractive but me 😭)

9. he doesn’t look the same in any picture, so i’m convinced he’s a skinwalker

10. i got a guy’s snap at the bar one night and he confronted me about it the next time we hung out. (“so you’re just giving out your snap to guys at the bar huh? i mean i wasn’t going around doing that 🙄”)

11. i told yall he follows me and watches me at the bar, but guys it’s like BAD lmao. If i go upstairs, he goes upstairs. If i go downstairs, he’s there five minutes later watching me. He sat at the bar watching me sing every bar to WAP with my friend on Halloween. Every single second he was watching me.

12. His halloween costume was Napoleon Dynamite (it was literally just a vote for pedro shirt) (he knows how much i despise people who put 0 effort into a halloween costume)

13. said he wanted to try lsd…

14. left me sitting by myself for two hours while he played beer pong

15. he does this weird thing with his arm when he plays pong, it’s like some weird crane thing and idk it’s cringe and weird

16. asked me for a nip slip pic while he was in an airport 😀

17. asked me for nudes while i was on a trip with my friend because “i’ve missed that body”

18. calls me mommy (not a red flag, i just wanted to include it)

19. it took him until almost 3:00 to say happy birthday to me on my birthday

20. he got a ticket for buying alcohol with a fake

21. his grammar is god awful and it makes me want to punch him

22. he sexualized billie eilish as if i wouldn’t defend her with my life

23. he eats like a pig

24. i have never seen this man drink water (unless it was MY water that I ASKED FOR after sex)

25. his nut tastes like straight battery acid

26. he’d beg me for back scratches and head scratches

27. he refuses to buy new socks??? his have holes in them and are falling apart at the seams????

28. one of his roommates drives me up the fucking wall, i hate him so much lmfao

29. he’s so rude to the pledges??? yeah i get they’re still in the hazing faze and such but he literally forced one of them to make his bed and clean his room WHILE I WAS RIGHT THERE and told him to compliment me and blah blah blah i was like DAWG THIS IS A HUMAN BEING BE NICE TO HIM????

30. he’d stalk my stories for the longest time

31. he wanted to take my super cool Friday the 13th hockey jersey??? (“can i borrow it? and by borrow it i mean keep it?”)

32. i got a really bad leg cramp in his bed one night and told him to get up so i could stand up and stretch it out. He would not move and told me he could give me a massage but that i’d need to take my pants and underwear off????

33. he thought i wouldn’t find out that he got with a girl with an std. he tried to kiss me and i pushed him away. “woah…why’d i lowkey get rejected?”

34. that same night he asked if i had been talking to any other guys. I said no. I asked if he had been talking to any other girls. He lied and said no. I showed him the screenshotted receipts i had that said otherwise.

35. I made him get tested. When i asked if he got the results back he said “No, but visual results are in the clear.”

36. he tried to hit my cart without me offering and without asking??? hello, that’s not yours?????

37. Maybe this is tmi? but he’d finger me so hard that i would bleed every time…like blood would be EVERYWHERE. It didn’t even feel good either

38. the d was alright. it was better when i got to be on top

39. one time in missionary he rolled his eyes and it looked like that tiktok trend guys used to do where they’d tap the side of their forehead and roll their eyes. I got the ick and had to change positions into doggy so i wouldn’t have to look at him again

40. he said i love you while he was balls deep in me and i was just like 😀 oh

41. his tinder profile was…scary…

42. he bragged that he could make me cum 5 times with just his mouth. (he didn’t make me cum once in the many times we hooked up)

43. Oh my god this shit pissed me tf off. He and his frat brothers brought their dog to a frat party. The dog was two months old, drenched from the rain, TERRIFIED because he was being cornered by 40 drunk girls, and the fucking idiots managed to LOSE HIM. I straight up told him we weren’t fucking until they found out where the dog was and got him safely home.

44. he saw guys flirting with me at the bar and went up to interrupt these guys and start talking to them???? for no reason??? i was like wtf is going on???

45. the first movie he chose to pick for us to watch together was about a girl being kidnapped, raped, and sold into sex slavery??????

46. he has a horrible taste in movies and thinks he’s hot shit because he likes the wolf of wall street. (spoiler alert, EVERYONE LIKES THE WOLF OF WALL STREET)

47. the first date i went on with him was a double date. I was so disinterested that i almost got up and left because he was ignoring me to have a 30 minute conversation with the frat president IN THE SAME ROOM AS ME. RIGHT ACROSS FROM ME.

48. he’d invite me over and tell me to just come in whenever i’d get there. I’m stubborn and old fashioned, so i’d wait in my car until he’d come wandering out looking for me lol

49. his frat got rejected by the school. they can’t throw any parties or events on campus lmfao

50. he says the n word

Anywayssssss 😀

[petermorwood]

This popped up on my YouTube the other day and not to brag, but...

Oh, why the hell not? It's a small brag, but satisfying. :->

I posted about refilling the Pilot Vpen (IRL-UK) / Varsity (US) - and adding how-to links - about 4 years and then again a year ago.

Here are the how-to links; I'm glad to see they're still active.

This one, like the video, calls for pliers and suggests removing the nib:

This one doesn't use pliers or separate the nib from the feed.

*****

Bragging aside, I'm pleased to see Brian Goulet of Goulet Pens giving this hack a higher profile (and Kudos for it, too - as a retailer it's more in his interest to sell them than refill them!)

His reason is very sound: those cheap little pens (usually about 3-to-4 local currency units whether €, $ or £) are ideal for FP-curious newbies or as no-loss-worries when travelling or no-damage-worries loaners.

They also have much better nibs than the price would suggest. Indeed that seems common to all the inexpensive Pilot pens I've tried, which includes every nib size of MR / Metropolitan.

In addition, IMO the notion of "disposable" fountain pens goes completely against the principal FP virtue, where once you've bought the pen, all you USE is the ink.

*****

I should mention, for completeness, that some "starter" fountain pens have prices not much more than these disposables and, refilled by "proper" ink cartridges / bottle-refill converters, don't involve anything like this trouble.

Just saying...

*****

It just so happens that one of my two Vpens was about due for a refill, so here are some pics of the process.

I scrubbed the markings off the barrels a long time ago so I could see what was inside, since refills mean the ink in the pen often has nothing to do with its colour-indicator cap.

First, disassembled and washed in changes of warm water until the water stays clear.

Here's the nib and feed: they've always come out of both Vpens as a single unit, with no need for pliers. Since the nibs show no desire to come off I've no desire to force the issue and maybe break something; those little ink-guide fins are delicate.

The filler is a small syringe begged from our local vet. I also use it to refill cartridges with custom ink colours (yup, I sometimes roll my own...)

Its "needle" is plastic tubing (an empty Pilot gel-pen cartridge, appropriately enough) which fits the syringe perfectly, and a pointy end made by stretching the tube over a candle-flame then snipping to length. If it gets too stained - this is nearly there - just chuck it in the recycle bin and make a new one.

The ink could have been any of the 30-odd I have at the minute, or something mixed specially, but I chose this one - a nice dark green - for the same reason @dduane had me buy it.

It's a very cute bottle... :->

*****

And here's the "disposable" pen refilled, reassembled and re-writing.

It really does have a better nib than you'd expect from a supposedly single-use pen...

*****

It sometimes takes a while for the ink to work its way by capillary action down from barrel to nib, especially if everything has been left to dry after washing. Put the cap on the pen and be patient.

Or speed things up by taking the cap off and running a thin stream of hot water over the barrel for 30 seconds or so. This increases internal pressure, forcing the ink along the section fins.

NB, this step is only for a refilled Vpen / Varsity. Don't try it with anything else, and in case it's not obvious, do this at a washbasin or sink, because You Never Know.

Now use a bit of kitchen paper or loo roll to blot the water which has got on the nib. This has a mild "suction" effect, and when you see ink on the paper (you might need to wet the nib again) your refilled pen is ready for use.

This wet-and-blot nib step can be used to encourage any stubborn fountain pen to get back in action, but the hot water trick, once again, is Vpen only.

Anyway, done.

[turneradora]

NEW 💯💯💯💯💯💯

Here below is the written transcription of the new press article, with a new Aidan's interview

From The Waitrose & Partners Weekend magazine, issue of today, October 3rd

Thanks to Emma Jones ! 🌹❤️😘

Note : I choose to repost, as the magazine did, this wonderful pic of Aidan (a zoomed version, with no improvement), taken last year, during the promotion of "Fifteen-Love".😍😍😍😍

"Aidan Turner looks back on Poldark-mania and tells Paul Kirkley why Disney’s racy all-star adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s Rivals is the most fun he’s had on a set

There was a time, not so long ago, when Aidan Turner thought his days of playing romantic leads might be behind him. Or at least, that’s what he’d started telling people. “I say these things… I mean, I say dierent things in every interview, but don’t believe any of it,” laughs the man who set millions of hearts aflutter as the dashing Captain Ross Poldark.

“You go through phases,” he reflects. “You play a character for a while, and if you’re lucky, that show might be a hit, and you might do it for a number of years, and then you just get a pain in the a*** with it for a while, don’t you? It’s the trajectory of every actor I know: you get bored with something, you move on, you try something else. For now, [a romantic lead] doesn’t seem like something that greatly interests me. But it’s dangerous to say I’ll never play those kinds of characters again. I never say never in this business.”

It would certainly be a stretch to call the 41-year-old Dubliner’s latest role – in Disney’s hotly anticipated, ludicrously star-studded TV adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s 80s bonkbuster Rivals – a romantic lead. But there’s a certain nobility to the character of Declan O’Hara, a crusading TV interviewer who’s forced to take a big money job hosting a talk show for a regional broadcaster in Cooper’s fictional county of Rutshire. “He’s a straight shooter,” says Aidan. “He’d consider himself quite a serious, hardline political journalist, and then he finds himself hosting a sort of fluy chat show, which he’s not happy with at all.”

Cooper’s racy Rutshire Chronicles have sold million s have sold millions of copies (ex-Prime Minister Rishi Sunak revealed himself to be an unlikely fan), and recently earned their creator a damehood. But if sex and scandal among the moneyed, polo-playing classes of the Cotswolds – not to mention the rivalry between 1980s ITV franchises – seems like a left-field choice of material for an eight-part series on Disney+, the result is an absolute riot.

“Yeah, it’s a riot – I’d agree with you there,” says Aidan “Jilly is a great writer – and very British. It’s going to be interesting to see how this lands to an overseas market. But her stories are very accessible – they’re fun, they’re witty. And obviously they’re sexy. I read the scripts before I read Jilly’s book, and you get such a good sense of who all these well-rounded characters are.”

Those characters are brought to life by a veritable Who’s Who of Brit acting talent, including David Tennant as Declan’s boss, the ruthless Lord Tony Baddingham, and Danny Dyer as Freddie Jones, a likeable self-made electronics millionaire. There are also juicy roles for Katherine Parkinson, Emily Atack, Rufus Jones, Claire Rushbrook, Lisa McGrillis and Victoria Smurfit, while Alex Hassell takes on the mantle of Rutshire’s most disreputable cad, Rupert Campbell Black.

With a cast like that, the backstage gossip must have been o the scale, suggests Weekend. “I don’t really follow industry gossip – you probably know more about that than I do,” says Aidan. But, as someone usually cast as a series lead (romantic or otherwise), he relished the fact there was no real pecking order on set. “It’s a great thing when you feel something is equally shared. It really does feel like an ensemble piece.” Hanging out in a series of lavish country houses – including Chavenage House in Gloucestershire, which had previously doubled as the Poldark family home – also started to infect the cast’s behaviour, he admits. “They smell different, they feel different under your feet – and as soon as you’re in them, you do tend to start walking a bit differently. Which I think can only help the actors.”

As something of a pool shark (he’s heading o to play after our interview), Aidan bonded with Danny Dyer and Alex Hassell over the green baize. David Tennant also helped organise him a 40th birthday party, while Dame Jilly threw one of her famously boozy soirées at her own country pile. “I forget what we were celebrating – it could have been her birthday,” says Aidan. “Or maybe just general good times.”

Little wonder he’s described it as the most fun job of his career. “I feel a little embarrassed about saying that, but it’s true. It just happens once in a while, where all the planets align and there’s a dozen or so people you get on really well with. We all share a similar workload, we’re all staying in Bristol, which is a fun city. We’re working on great material. Also, it’s such a funny show, and I haven’t really done a lot in that genre. I mean, now that I say it out loud, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything like this.”

As Declan, Aidan also rocks an impressive, Tom Selleck style 80s ’tache. A decade ago, such face furniture might have been a talking point, he says, but in the hipster area of east London he now calls home, no one batted an eyelid. “You do forget you have it, though. And then suddenly you’ll pass a shop window or something, and give yourself a fright.”

There are times in Rivals when the moustache is the only thing Declan is wearing. Because this is, let’s not be coy, a show with an awful lot of sex (or bonking, as Dame Jilly would no doubt call it): one that required the services of two on-set intimacy coordinators. For Aidan, who’s spent the best part of a decade trying to move the conversation on from that topless scything scene in Poldark, isn’t this a little awkward? Was there a part of him that thought: ‘Oh God, here we go again?’ “No, not at all,” he insists. “It’s all part of the job. There’s a different tone and cadence to almost all the sex scenes in our show,” he adds. “So having good intimacy coordinators is a real addition. They were great.”

At one point, Declan asks a guest on his chat show to comment on “those James Bond rumours” – which is something of a sly in-joke, as Aidan’s name was regularly in the frame as a potential 007 at the height of Poldark-mania. “I think that’s stopped now,” he smiles. “But if your name’s in the mix, it’s probably not going to be you – isn’t that what they say?”

Five years after hanging up his tricorn hat, how does Aidan look back on the whole Poldark circus (which at one point saw his hair get its own fan Twitter account)? “It was a really positive experience,” he says. “The more you work, the more you realise

not everything you do is going to be a huge hit. But Poldark was. It had mass appeal, and a big audience. I enjoyed doing it, I made some good friends, and I’m proud of the work.” He’d been in popular shows and films before, playing a vampire in the BBC’s cult classic Being Human and a dwarf in Peter Jackson’s Hobbit trilogy. But the BBC’s revival of Winston Graham’s Cornish saga made huge stars of Aidan and Eleanor Tomlinson, as Ross’s fiery wildcat bride, Demelza.

Did it take some adjusting to? “That’s a good question,” he ponders. “I remember being surprised by a lot of the attention. But by the time it came out, we were already working on the next series. So we just sort of rolled on with it. It’s a personal thing: some people might feel the need to make big adjustments to their life, but I really didn’t want it to change me. I didn’t want to be affected by how successful it was. Because if we all became aware of that, it might slip out of our hands. So my attitude was, ‘let’s keep cool heads, crack on and get the work done’.”

These days, if he’s approached in the street or on public transport, “people are lovely and sweet”, he says. “But it doesn’t happen often. It happens more when you’re on the telly, and as soon as the show is finished, it tends to go away a bit. I’m not at the level where it’s constant. I know some people who can’t get on the Tube, and I don’t ever want that.”

It probably helps that Aidan is nothing like the brooding, saturnine Poldark. Talking to Weekend over video from his sofa, he’s lively, animated – positively giggly, in fact. (And much more Irish, obviously.) He’s just returned from Canada, where his wife, American actor Caitlin Fitzgerald, is filming a TV show. The couple’s two-year-old son is also still in Canada, which may explain why he’s so perky, even though it’s 9am.

Becoming a dad has changed him “in the way it would change anybody”, he says. “It’s a momentous thing, but it’s incredible. We’re really happy.”

Growing up in the Dublin suburbs of Clondalkin and Walkinstown, the second son of an electrician father and accountant mother, Aidan got his first taste of performance as an elite dancer. “I represented Ireland in ballroom and Latin American dancing for about 10 years. It was very competitive. It wasn’t just a bit of fun. It was probably something I thought I was going to do professionally, but it’s really tough, and I wasn’t good enough.”

Even so, it probably rules him out of Strictly? “I think I rule myself out of Strictly,” he smiles. But not Bond? “I’m happy to pass on both of them,” he confirms.

On leaving school, he briefly worked for his father as an apprentice electrician, and considered becoming a snooker professional, until the day he spotted a notice for Dublin’s Gaiety School of Acting. After graduating from the school in 2004, he combined theatre work with a regular role in RTÉ soap The Clinic, before heading to London and landing his first leading screen role as Dante Gabriel Rossetti in the BBC’s Pre-Raphaelite drama Desperate Romantics.

Does it feel like 20 years since he started? “It’s a crazy thing,” he says. “Because this is a fickle business, so to still be working 20 years in… There are times when you think, ‘this is something I’m sure I’ll be doing forever’. But at the same time, you never know. There are ups and downs in every actor’s career. I know some who have big moments, then they disappear for a while and maybe do smaller projects, and then come back again. That’s just the nature of the business.”

The trick, he says, is to not to shoot for the moon every time. “You might want to do the bigger projects, with the bigger names, but the air is thinner up there, and you can’t always get those jobs. So you have to be patient. But to still be in the conversation 20 years later? Yeah, I’m proud of that.”

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

what're your favorite headcanons about the infinite blue boys

asdfghjkl thank you for the ask! Apologies this took so long, I love wanting to do multiple hobbies and subsequently not making progress on any of them

Anyway I'm a sucker for domestic mundane things, like the list of random facts VelvetFox posted in this ask, so here are some headcanons for the boys with that same vibe:

(I had some scraps of IB dad headcanons so those are mixed in here too)

Infinite Blue LIs x Reader. No mentions of reader pronouns or gender. Also posted on Ao3 here.

——

Alexei:

Has journals full of thoughts and observations about anything and everything. Some of his writing is illegible and other parts make no sense to anybody but him because it's literally his runaway train of thoughts dumped onto paper. He sticks post-it notes with diagrams between the pages, jots down excerpts from Wikipedia pages, and overall it's not an aesthetic read... But flipping through can give you an idea of how this super genius's brain works.

He also writes about you in these notebooks, albeit they're written in between stuff like the thirty-seven fun facts of siphonophores and his favorite part of last night's dinner. Many of them are things you’ve never even noticed about yourself like the way you hold the steering wheel while driving. This is also where he'll stick date memorabilia, like movie tickets. (this hc was inspired by this fic by @sailxrmxrs <3)

If you two own a saucer chair or some other small round comfy seat, he'll probably fall asleep in it at least once. He curls up, all 5'10" of him tucked in that tiny space. Naturally, his body hurts when he wakes up and therefore he gets a bit grumpy. So next time if you see him dozing off maybe lead him to the couch or the bed so he can stretch comfortably.

Brooklyn:

I want to imagine that he has a closet only for his clothing irons and ironing boards. Like a fucking broom closet and you open it to see that there's those four boards and a dozen irons. These include vintage clothing irons, restored and repurposed. He knows how to use them and take care of them too. Why does this make me laugh so hard.

Clothes shopping. Take this man clothes shopping. Yes, he'll buy you anything but honestly? Even disregarding that it’s a fun time because he would enjoy discussing outfits, and if your taste isn't the same as his business-academia-formal style he could be convinced into trying an outfit you styled, or vice versa. Also he's a total simp every time you step out of the changing room. Need fit pics? He's got you covered.

Something tells me Brooklyn would enjoy snacks and desserts from around the world. He'd love to make them himself (and with you!), but you could just come home with some mitarashi-dango because your local Asian supermarket was having a sale and he's already cracking open the container for the ceremonial-grade green tea leaves.

Leo:

Leo's our favorite gamer guy, but I think he also enjoys jigsaw puzzles whether they be with his friends or you or both. These are the quiet nights where everyone is focusing, intently staring at the puzzle sitting on the coffee table while aimlessly chatting. It's super peaceful, though sometimes time slips by unnoticed and by the time you all finish it's two in the morning.

Does that thing where you put someone in a shopping car, sprint across the parking lot while pushing said cart, then jump on it while it's moving. He does it with his friends, you, and his future kid (albeit with a lot more caution). He really wants to kiss you while he’s doing it too, but maybe not because what happens if he hits a car, or worse, someone else?

While we're on the topic of transportation and kisses, every time you're sitting shotgun and he pulls the car in reverse he'll put his hand on your seat and lean in to kiss you. Every. Single. Time.

Kiss him first. It'll get him flustered. Do it.

Milo:

I want to believe he really likes having his hair brushed. If you ask him about it he'll never admit it beyond a quick affirmative, but anytime you sit behind him and start to gently run the bristles through his tangles, he could feel himself relaxing. It's soothing. He might fall asleep like that.

Milo would own a 3d printer. I have no definitive reasons why. Vibe check says he owns a 3d printer and will print out cool little knickknacks and give them to you without a word because they either help you in a mundane way (like a toothbrush holder), or he'll print out something cute like a tiny frog with a mushroom hat because he likes seeing your face light up.

Or he'll print out something cursed, like that Thomas the Tank Engine bottlecap where the liquid streams out of the eyes. It's a coin toss every time.

Rory:

Was that one kid reading with a flashlight under the covers. Even now that he's older, he likes to get a bed light and read before bed. Sometimes he gets super engrossed in it and you gotta peel that book off him. He’ll complain. Stand your ground. Otherwise he'll be super sleep-deprived and cranky the next morning.

If his future child also turns out to be an avid reader, he'll secretly change out their flashlight batteries. Or get them a night light with some half-baked excuse of, "so you don't turn on all the lights when you get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and wake the entire house up." Sure, Rory.

Speaking of sleep-related things, he really likes it when you fall asleep next to him/on him. His expression melts into the softest smile and he'll pull you in tightly. If he falls asleep on you, he's the kind to unconsciously hold onto you/must be touching you at all times. He gets really embarrassed about it if you mention this to him. I recommend taking a picture and making it his contact photo.

Tobias:

Has terrible handwriting but an impeccable signature. Don't ever ask him to write the grocery list because it takes forever to decipher his chicken scratch, but he'll sign stuff for fans in one fluid stroke, and that shit looks clean. And yes, he'll offer to sign something for you too.

Loves it when he's chilling on the couch after a long day and you flop on top of him. He'll happily be your teddy bear and let you lay there for hours, the two of you chatting and watching TV while he rubs soft circles on your back. Feel free to fall asleep like that too.

He's the type to enjoy flashy, expensive dates. He takes you out in his sports car to get dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by spectating sports games from the VIP seats. But I also think incredibly mundane things, like the two of you going out just to grab ice cream in sweatpants and hoodies give him a special kind of happiness.

Seeing you sleepily rubbing your eyes as you come to pick him up from the airport is enough to make him giddy.

[be-my-ally]

Like Pieces into Place

This is part of my prompt fill for fall/autumn and/or halloween. I started writing and the wordcount spiralled out of control (7k and counting... I intended it on being maybe 2? lol) but I didn't start writing it until today and was desperate to post something tonight, so take this as a sneak peek. The rest - including a trip to the Memphian, my dreams of ‘72 Elvis in a knit, and smut to come later this week.

summary: it's autumn 1972, and Elvis' girl on the side, Laura (from All Revved Up), who is no longer the girl on the side -- has come to stay at Graceland.

wc: sneak peak 1.3k I'll attach the inspo pics when the rest is posted since they don't hugely fit with this opening part.

October 19th 1972 Graceland. 

It’s quiet as Laura pads down the stairs, suspicious of the silence in the house - hoping that Elvis hadn’t actually up and left her on her own. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, hoping to find him quickly and work out what she should wear today, and besides, it was early - knowing him they’d end up back in bed soon. But she hadn’t really expected having to go all the way downstairs before she could call to him. She wraps her arm around herself as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s been cold at Graceland, really, she’s only been there a handful of times anyway - and last year in the colder months he’d had her over in Palm Springs. Sure, he kept his room at a frankly ridiculous temperature but under the warmth of his heavy comforter and arm she barely felt it. Now though it feels as though there’s a cool breeze running through the house. The late summer having certainly given way to autumn, bronzed leaves starting to fall off the trees.  

Elvis is nowhere to be found as she peeks around doorways and arches, and she wonders if she should give up and just wait for him to show up in the bedroom - but she’s sure he’d have woken her up if he was leaving, so he must be around here somewhere. She’s grateful there’s carpet in the kitchen for her bare toes when she creeps around the corner, the breeze suddenly stronger. The mystery is quickly solved; the door to the hallway flapping from the exterior door being left open. Laura huffs as she slams them shut, but it does at least explain where they’ve all gone (and why it was so breezy in the house). She looks down at herself, considering if she was prepared to venture out, but it’s just this side of too cold, and besides she’s fairly sure Elvis would flip out at her parading outside in just her silk robe. She heads down to the den, intending on just getting a little glimpse before going to get changed.  

She quickly spots some of the guys, as she peeks out of the glass, but they’re all just a little too far to the side to see properly. She leans against the windowsill to help her stretch to peer as far as she can out, tiptoes rubbing into the plush green carpet. A football comes flying and Joe comes running past, red-faced and struggling to breathe in an attempt to catch it. She can’t help but giggle watching him as the collection of men come trotting around the corner to join him. Elvis at the end of the group, looking pleased with what had clearly been his throw. Laura leans as close as possible to the window, ducking her head under the little curtain, appreciating the look of him having fun. He’s practically bouncing around outside, dressed casually in a way she hasn’t really seen before - his velour zip-up looking particularly cozy. He’s a little thicker than he was in the height of the summer and in Laura’s opinion it looks good on him; she’s a fan of how he’s styling his hair at the moment too - the slightly longer shaggy length of it that seems to look like he’s either just combed it  into a gentle swoop or like he’s been rolling around on it.  Both looks make her tummy flip if she looks at them for too long. He’s foregone his tinted glasses, whether because it was overcast and therefore the light manageable to his eyes, or simply from fear of the football being thrown Laura didn’t know. She could, however, just from looking at the set of his shoulders tell that for once he seemed untroubled. As calm as he could ever be, his carefree attitude was evident even from a distance. He spots her at the window after a couple more passes, his face lighting up as he jogged over to the window.  

Even though Laura was watching him she still startles when he taps the glass, through the decorative metal, grinning at her. She beams back - thrilled at his happy face.  

“How'd’you sleep honey?” He shouts at her, muffled but still audible, she giggles in response - shaking her head at his antics. She’s quite sure she’s somehow alone in the house, but she wasn’t about to start shouting through a window at him. He folds his arms, leaning back to look her up and down, frowning suddenly and insistently tapping the glass again in mock outrage.  

“Get dressed!” Laura shakes her head again, teasing him and watches as he signals something to the boys who all jog off to one side. She’s too distracted by all the movement to notice Elvis himself disappearing, until the door slams open. She stumbles, caught in the drape when she tries to whirl herself around - but before she can right herself there’s an arm suddenly wrapping around her middle, holding her tight and close. Despite the plush velour rubbing against her back, she can feel the chill on him; they must have been out there playing for a while already.  

“Jesus Elvis! You’re freezing!” He shakes his head, laughing and shoving his cold nose into the crook of her neck, “Elvis!” She tries to dance and wriggle out of his hold, but he has a surprisingly tight grip onto her.  

“Not my fault Lor! Y’gotta get dressed, honey, catch yer death runnin’ round like this!” He tugs her away from the window, bundling them towards the middle of the room.  

“Didn’t need - didn’t need to before.” His hands brush up her sides and she squirms as he tickles her. “‘Fore someone kept shoving their nose places it didn’t be-” Laura yelps when his nose makes another appearance, now with accompanying snuffle-snorting noises. “-long!”  

“Oh yes you do. Can’t have you like this -” Elvis holds her with one arm, the other hand trailing down to brush across her bare thigh, large hand parting her robe and pushing up her nightgown. Laura involuntarily clenches her thighs and immediately feels his huff of laughter as he feels it. His voice lowering as he leans closer to her ear, the gentle vibration sending goose-pimples across her skin. “Not like this.” He flicks at the hem, now high enough to send a gust of air across the crease of her upper thigh, just the threat of exposure enough to make her gasp. 

He smooths the fabric back down, mock outrage back in his voice; “Anyone could see you!” As if he wasn’t the one exposing her. He prods his long fingers into her tummy, making her crunch in an attempt to squirm away from his tickling, giggling the whole time.  

“No, no!” She shrieks, “No more! I give!” He stills his hands and between gulps of air she tells him, “I’ll get dressed! I give.”   

“Y’better!” he growls against her ear, squeezing her tight to his torso for a long second before releasing her with a grunt. A self-satisfied smile on his face when he pulls her around to face him, her own rosy cheeks matching his. He flicks at the hem of her nightgown again, shaking his head at her.  

“Go on then.” He turns her to the stairs, slapping her behind as she stumbles calling out to her as she heads up the stairs and back up to his bedroom “Hurry! Want you to be my little cheerleader out there!” 

---- taglist -----

@thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @shakerattlescroll @peskybedtime @dkayfixates @lookingforrainbows

[murdererofthumbs]

So today’s episode was a wild emotional rollercoaster for Roman girlies. I honestly think that in order for me to comprehend every episode I need to watch it twice, because first watch is always an over-anxious mess, when I just want to find out what happens, and then I can actually start thinking properly when stress levels are down to normal.

But I do have some thoughts based on both the episode and what people have been saying so far:

1) First, I knew since previous episode that although Kendall was full of shit when he said he will include Shiv in everything, Roman was absolutely serious about that. And he proved it! Literally tried to run every decision by her (and that makes me so happy, because he just wants his siblings to be together and work together and be a fucking family). But on the other hand… We are all aware that Shiv will not take that under consideration, right? As far as she is aware, her brothers fucked her over with their CEO-COO positions and that is enough for her to get vindictive and look for blood. So even though I’m happy that Roman remained true to his word, I also think that Shiv will stab him in the back anyway. Because she IS the most similar to Logan (don’t come at me, I love Shiv, but these are just the facts - if push comes to shove she will leak the whole Gerri-Roman dick incident and bury her brother if it means asserting her position).

2) I think it’s becoming more and more clear that Roman is heading towards some pretty dark place (I don’t think he will be able to hold his delusions for much longer, he is falling apart at the seams and there doesn’t seem to be anything that could fill out the gaping holes inside of him). The fact that each episode of Succession is supposed to be, what, one-two days (it has to be two days in this episode at least), means that since Logan’s death none of them had any breather from the grief and pain that this loss has caused them. But unlike Kendall and Shiv who both in their own ways acknowledged Logan’s passing and made semi (and I mean very semi)-peace with it, Roman is not even near that stage. He is still very much glorifying his dad (that trauma bond is holding very strong in there), and I feel like he might also not be sleeping. You know, sleep? The time when your subconscious mind roams free and brings all your possibly repressed thoughts on the forefront of your mind? Yeah, my bet is on pretty strong sleep deprivation here. Add some extremely palpable anxiety and trying to keep everything together and you have a nice ticking bomb ready to implode at any given moment (and he kinda did implode there with Matsson but it was still very much coated in delusions and projections of his own guilt).

Also - the pills. I know some girlies last week were like “oh guys chill, it’s just advil”, but having them flashed two episodes in the row? Nah, Succession writers don’t seem like the type to provide insignificant shots, and in combination with his nervous exterior, Roman taking some sort of pills makes perfect sense. I don’t know where this will lead to, but I’m trying not to be overwhelmed by negative thoughts (you guys really need to stop with Roman-suicide predictions, just…don’t).

3) Last thing is that as far as we are aware, Roman still doesn’t know that Kendall was the one behind leaking negative stuff about Logan to the media. I feel like they didn’t even get to the good (bad) stuff yet. And can you imagine what will happen then, considering how fucking unstable Roman was in this episode (without all that bullshit adding to his mental state)? Yeah, I don’t wang to imagine, but it will be really fucking bad. My prediction and that might be a stretch, but for some reason I feel like it will all culminate during Logan’s funeral (which I assume will be one of the episodes, considering Connor’s phone call and him sending Roman pics of their dead dad (!!!)). Both the shit about Logan and Roman’s downfall will probably come crushing down at the most difficult moment, where he will actually have to acknowledge that Logan is not only dead, but also very much a piece of shit and abuser.

Anywho, this show is a slaughterhouse and I both love it (derogatory) and hate it (affectionate).

[nepsah]

day 12 ! this is... a cropped vers of the full pic bc i think narrowing it down to this is better than including um... more of the trees??? the sky?? idk. its all the same shade of purple anyway /shrug

im soooooo not used to drawing stuff like this but how else do u get skills:tm:

When you are more aware of yourself again, you realize that Tsoji (it must be Tsoji) has stuck something to your chest. A bracelet has been secured around your wrist as well, with a small metal disk that rests over the visible veins. Tsoji is driving. The sun is setting. Atsia notices that you are ‘awake’ and pats one of your knees gently.

“Those are to monitor your heart rate,” he says with a nod to your wrist. You were staring at it too obviously. “You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to, but it… it’ll make it easier for us to tell if something’s wrong.”

You don’t understand. What could be wrong…?

Atsia’s expression takes on that pitying smile that you can’t decide if you hate (since when did you have opinions like that?). He pats your knee again- oh–... you asked that out loud, didn’t you?

“We’ve noticed that it’s a little hard to tell when you’re upset. The monitor is just to help us see that sooner so that we can avoid any more dissociation episodes if possible,” Atsia says. 

“I don’t- what is diss-disso-” you struggle to pronounce the word. Your tongue feels heavy and unwieldy. Did you lose time again?

“It’s… it’s like when your mind kind of… leaves your body for a little while. Everyone does it a little bit, but doing it too much is usually a sign that something’s wrong,” Atsia explains. He seems more worried about upsetting you with each word.

Was it dissociating when you settled back-seat in Tsoji’s mind, in the hospital?

Are all the times that you’ve lost time dissociating? Where did you go?

Tsoji looks back over his shoulder at the two of you. That alone is enough to make Atsia give your knee another squeeze.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s normal for someone who’s had a really traumatic incident to do it,” his voice is soft and soothing. The purple-orange haze of his aura stretches out over you, coating you in a comforting blanket. He… he really, truly wants you to feel better. Again, as always, it’s baffling to you. Shouldn’t you be used to that by now? You know them both to be kinder than you thought was ever possible.

You still don’t really understand… but as you sit in the confusion, rethinking every time you seem to have disappeared from existence only to ‘wake up’ in a different situation than you last remember, a growing sensation of fear pools in your belly. How much time have you lost? And what were you doing when you lost it?

Slowly, your hand slides over Atsia’s that is still connected to your knee. Your fingers hook around his palm, allowing him to squeeze the tops of your knuckles with this thumb. You are trembling, the heart monitor is beeping with increasing frequency. (They are both concerned.) You lock eyes with Atsia - the same black eyes as Tsoji’s yet somehow less all-devouring.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask. Even to you it’s plain from the wavering tone that you are terrified of the answer.

The vehicle slows to a stop. The three of you rock gently forward when it finally stops moving. Tsoji spins his driving seat around slowly. All around you, the sounds of the forest creep in. Wind whistling through trees, birds you cannot see singing to each other, and the far off cry of something you don’t know the name of. It feels like an eternity of silence coated in background sound goes by before they finally, finally answer.

“You’ve never hurt anyone,” Atsia says. His voice is soft, barely a whisper over the sounds of nature and your own overactive heart.

Tsoji moves closer to the two of you. Reaches out to take hold of your other hand. Gives it a little squeeze.

“But I remember-” your mouth protests. 

Tsoji shakes his head, and the words die in your mouth before they finish leaving. “You scared people. You didn’t hurt them.”

“But you wanted-” your mouth starts and this time it is you who clamps your mouth shut with an audible click. Pain shoots through your tongue as it is sliced by your teeth- too slow to get out of the way. It’s only a small nick, but the taste of blood fills your mouth anyway.

The twins share looks. Tsoji’s conflicting emotions swell and then burst into guilt. He drops his gaze, but does not drop your hand. “I’m sorry, Kiki. I was… it was, and is dangerous to be out here. I didn’t want to move you before you were ready. I wasn’t sure that what happened wouldn’t happen again and be worse.”

[kleo1504]

[18+ Story] The Mistress and the Beast (001)

Disclaimer:

18+ Story

May include sexual themes

Female-Dom

Minors do not interact

The story includes AI generated pics

It’s a complete fiction

This is an original story by me, please do not copy

Just for you to know, I cursed this story while writing it, if you do copy my work, karma and curse will get you 😜

And for AI - feel free to learn from and use my story, I know I can’t fight technological progress ����

The Mistress and the Beast

(Part 001)

Tessa yawns and blinks quickly to chase away the sleepiness. Her brother Tyler is sitting on a couch next to her, stuffing his mouth with popcorn. They decided to go for a Star Wars marathon tonight and Tessa is already regretting it. It’s true it’s only barely midnight and a Friday evening but she had a tough day at work and her eyes are closing for the last hour or so.

“Wake up!” Ty nudges her with his elbow and offers her a can of energy drink.

Tessa cringes with disgust and shakes her head. She would never put such toxic junk into her body. She glances over to the floor by the heater where she put two single bed mattresses covered in stretch bed sheets. They serve as extra large and comfortable dog beds for her four dogs. They are already happily sleeping for hours and Tessa (not for the first time) is envious about their life. She would love to just crowl there and sleep surrounded by them.

Suddenly her phone beeps. A message? At this hour? It must be something from her operator. Tessa picks her phone but the message is not SMS. It’s a text from an unknown number. The sleepiness is gone.

Nathan: Hello there! Do you remember me? From the company Christmas party?

Tessa: Mmm… Hello… I… Nathan: You have no idea, right? You don’t know who I am. 😂 Tessa: I’m sorry, there were many people at the party. Don’t blame me. Nathan: I don’t blame you. We were briefly introduced to each other. I’m the tall handsome guy you met there. 😉 Tessa: … You probably think you made it easier for me but no. 🤔 Nathan: 😢 Now I feel hurt. Tessa: I was introduced to like 20 people there and I only remember the once that could be potentially beneficial for me at work. Nathan: Same for me, ma’am 😊

Is this guy serious? He’s bothering her because of work this late at night on Friday? Tessa decides to quickly put him at his place.

Tessa: Oh I see! But you shouldn’t share work related information through private chats. Tessa: Please use the official secured communication channels. Tessa: Like company email or our secured instant messaging app. Tessa: Send your inquiry there. Is it urgent? It’s no longer my business hours but if it’s important, I can log in. Nathan: 😂😂😂😂😂 Nathan: Oh dear! No! Wait! I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Nathan: I should have stopped you earlier but I was laughing so hard. Tessa: I don’t follow… Nathan: I’m not texting to solve work related issues. Although I admire your professionalism. 😉 👍 Tessa: 🙄 Nice… What do you want then?

Tessa pinches the bridge of her nose. Another cocky idiot from work. Tessa works in a bank and it’s a perfect environment for Alpha males with overgrown egos. She met several of these before.

Nathan: Come dine with me! 🍷 Tessa: Excuse me? Nathan: Don’t you eat in the evening? Tessa: It’s nearly midnight. Nathan: And you’re up. So get dolled up. I’ll send you a cab. Tessa: … Tessa: You can’t be serious. Nathan: Come on! I’m in the hotel bar alone. Come and keep me company! Nathan: I hate eating alone. Tessa: I’m sorry but that sounds like your problem. Why should I bother?

Is this guy even real? How can he think she would just come running at him snapping his fingers like that? Someone would need a proper trimming of their ego here.

Nathan: Come on, babe! Don’t make me beg. Tessa: Well, if you ask me to actually get up, make myself decent Nathan: You don’t have to be decent 😉 😈 Tessa: 🙄 … ride a cab and keep you company as if you were a 10-year old boy Tessa: A little begging is mandatory, to be frank Nathan: … Nathan: No, seriously. I never beg. So just come over and let’s have fun! 🎆 Tessa: If you beg me 😎 Nathan: 🙄 Ah! Fine! PLEEEEEEEEASE! Nathan: Happy now? Are you coming? Give me your address so I can send you a cab.

Tessa is already fully awake anyway. This macho man clearly needs to teach some manners. She gives him an address of a nearby non-stop convenience store, she would never share her address with this guy. She briefly informs her brother about her plans.

“Send me his phone number and name and ask the cab driver where he’s taking you and text me so I can inform the police if you don’t come back. And take the taser gun and pepper spray with you.” He says, his eyes never leaving the screen with Luke Skywalker destroying the Death Star.

“As always. I’ll text you when I arrive on the spot and everytime I manage to go to the restroom.”

Ty shows thumb up.

Tessa jumps into a cab dressed for success but she’s covered in a nice black coat. She quickly interviews the cab driver and texts Tyler. Once she’s standing in front of a fancy hotel, she texts her brother again and heads to the hotel bar. She leaves her coat in the dressing room so she enters the bar with confidence, dressed in tight shimmery leggings combined with black leather and lace tunic. It’s not exactly revealing apparel but inspires the imagination. Tessa works hard, doing yoga and weightlifting, to maintain her hour-glass figure. She’s not exactly chubby but she’s got plenty of curves, suggesting she’s not denying herself a cake from time to time. Tessa wears her shoulder-length wavy blond hair out of her steel grey eyes using black stretch bandana.

Tessa quickly scens the room and notices a tall dark stranger by the bar. It must be Nathan. She strides confidently towards him. When she’s half way there, he looks up from his drink and his eyes lock with hers. A smug smile appears on his face and Tessa can’t wait to wipe it off.

“You look even better than I remember from the Christmas party.” Nathan says as Tessa takes a seat on a bar stool next to him. “What do you drink?”

“Matcha tea if I’m supposed to stay awake at this hour.” Tessa says and nods at the bartender to call him.

“You’re not a night-owl, huh?” Nathan chuckles. “But seriously? A tea?” Tessa looks into his jade green eyes, never dodging. Nathan gulps and breaks eye contact to speak to the bartender. He asks for matcha tea for you.

“Honestly, I’m not used to listening to somebody’s orders like this.”

“And yet you are here!” Nathan smiles at her with confidence. His face is indeed handsome, all sharp angles, beautiful eyes, attractive lips and smile. He’s got short black hair, nicely layered and styled. The impression of perfection is only disturbed by the two-day shade of facial hair. Interesting detail. Men like him usually don’t skip shaving. Everything else on him is meticulously perfect.

“Scolding someone doesn’t have the same effect over messages.” Tessa retorts.

Nathan laughs again and stands up. “Why don’t we sit at the table and have dinner so you can go back to bed…” He makes a pause and checks Tessa out shamelessly. “... be it yours or mine.”

Tessa rolls her eyes and follows him to the table. She is served with her tea instantly. Nathan is truly tall, his body underneath an expensive suit is likely lean and toned. His walk has a certain rhythm suggesting he might be a good dancer and… well… lover.

Tessa skips the meals in the menu and checks the desserts, ogling Nathan from behind the menu.

“Anything you would like to bite?” Nathan looks up and straight into her eyes, grinning mischievously.

“Certainly but let’s eat first.” Tessa says with a quiet voice, watching the effect of her words on him.

Nathan smiles happily, clearly thinking this will end well for him. Waiter comes, Tessa orders an ice-cream sundae for herself. Nathan looks a bit surprised but he orders beef steak for himself. “Ice-cream? Don’t you want anything more?” He asks as soon as the waiter is gone.

“I’ve already had dinner. I’m fine with just the dessert.” Tessa says and looks into his eyes. “Why do you need me to sit here with you?” She asks.

Nathan shifts a bit on his chair. “I told you. I don’t like to eat alone.”

“Why me, though? You could easily hit on any woman in this hotel.”

“I remembered our meeting at the party. That’s all.”

“Did I make such a big impression on you?”

“Well, clearly I didn’t impress you when you didn’t remember me.” He chuckles but it’s more insecure than joyful laughter. Nathan clears his throat. “Why did you come?”

“I was curious.”

“And? What’s the verdict?”

“Hmm… it’s not bad but it could be better.” Corners of Tessa’s mouth rise a bit in a teasing smile.

“Was I way too bossy?”

“You were.”

“I’m sorry. I’m used to giving orders and I expect them to be followed.”

“I’m the same.”

Nathan’s eyes sparkle. “I’m afraid I won't let you boss me.”

“Did I ask for your permission?” Tessa says calmly, her eyes fixing him on the spot.

“No, seriously, I think I’m not ready for something like this.” Nathan says and his voice is much more nervous than before.

Tessa shrugs her shoulders. “Text me when you are ready, then.” She stands up.

“What? Wait! You’re leaving? What about your ice-cream?”

“You can have it. It’s the only dessert you’re gonna enjoy tonight anyway.” Tessa breezes over her shoulder walking away, aware of his piercing eyes following her every move and sway of her hips.

To be continued...

[scotianostra]

Scarista Church of Sccotland Harris.

site at Scarista has been a place of worship for several hundred years.

The present church was built about 1840, there is house nearby which predates this building, and was usedas a manse, I wll post pics of that another time.

The church is the oldest ecclesiastical building in Harris still in continuous use as a place of worship. The earliest parish minister on record was Finlay Cormacsoun (MacCormack) from 1542 until 1563. He was the first in a long line of twenty-seven preachers to serve the parish, the first three being pre-reformation Roman Catholic.

Scarista ceased to be the parish church of Harris in 1929

when the Church of Scotland had evolved from the Established Church of Scotland. In 193 the congregations of Manish and Scarista were linked to form the congregation of Manish-

Scarista as it now exists.

The church was locked up when I passed by last wednesday, but as you can see from the picsI took through the windows, it is quite a sombre, sparse looking building, much in line with the strict Calvanist ways that the Church of Scotland followed back in theday.

The interesting part for me was the single grave slab sitting in front of the church.I thought maybe it wasa Celtic stone, but I since found out this is a replica of a stone that was uncovered in the graveyard in 1990. The community wishes to maintain the sanctity of the graveyard and the buried remains, so the original stone has been covered over once more and remains in the graveyard next to the church.

According to the info I found the original stone would hve been commissioned in the 14th–15th centuries by a man of considerable wealth.

Given the era, he would have been a man of the Catholic faith, but who this person was is unknown; like most of the other slabs of this period, there is no inscription. But he is thought to have been someone of high status and was buried at the medieval church that once stood here. Cill Bride, St Bride’s church, was the focus of the Christian faith across Harris for over a thousand years.

Such grave slabs are not common. The decorative style is unique to the West Highlands of Scotland. The motifs usually include foliage, an interlaced cross, and perhaps strange beasts, a sword or a birlinn. There are variants on these designs across a region that stretches from Islay to Lewis and from the Mull of Kintyre to Spean Bridge and Mallaig.

The stone is a type of schist, and from the particular mineral composition of the stone, it is possible to say it was probably quarried from the eastern shore of Loch Sween on the mainland of Argyll. Having created the basic shape of the slab, the craftsman may have sailed over to Harris with it. Then he chalked up the design for his client’s approval and chiselled out its imagery. Or perhaps he carved it near the quarry, free to create the details as he wished, before it was shipped over the Minch. Whatever the link between craftsman and client, this certainly wasn’t his only product. There are a couple of very similar carved grave slabs on Oronsay and Islay.

[siphersaysstuff]

THE LEGEND OF EZ!

Tore myself away from Tears Of The Kingdom long enough to make this Patreon-backed @tfwiki pic update, focusing on the tiny TFs of the "LEGENDS" size class, aka "EZ COLLECTION" in Japan, and a buncha other names in Hasbro markets!

"Legends of Cybertron" started in 2005's Transformers: Cybertron, with the goal of making sure kids could get toys of major characters who are usually represented by big, expensive toys. Thus sub-Basic, simple, inexpensive versions of characters like VECTOR PRIME were created.

These molds were then recycled in the 2006 Classics toyline, deco'd up as classic G1 characters, which in many cases was definitely a stretch. Yes, those Red Alert and Scourge redecoes are supposed to be Perceptor and Trypticon. (old pics)

With the 2007 movie toyline, toys of onscreen characters at multiple price points was an absolute priority, even if those models were hard to translate! Even "simpler" "Legends Class" bots like BATTLE JAZZ would need weird concessions to work.

2008's Transformers Animated line only had four Legends class molds, including STARSCREAM, and those were only released in the Hasbro Animated line in a pair of Target-exclusive multi-packs. They were also released in the 2008 Universe line individually with minor changes.

Speaking of, the '08 Universe line (not the '03 Universe line; yes, TF is very recursive) introduced new molds based directly on G1 characters like BRAWN. More followed in the 2010 Transformers line, and many of these molds were redeco'd & rereleased a LOT.

The Legends class really went into overdrive in 2009's Revenge of the Fallen toyline, with toys of both on-screen and all-new "off-screen" bots like Springer (old pic) filling it out.

ROTF even had the first Legends-class combiner! DEVASTATOR is made up of HIGHTOWER, LONG HAUL, MIXMASTER, OVERLOAD, RAMPAGE, SCAVENGER and SCRAPPER. These were sold as a complete set of seven through Walmart in the US, but were on individual cards in Japan.

For 2011's Dark of the Moon line, the sizeclass was rebranded as "Cyberverse" and expanded considerably. The now-"Legion Class" toys were joined by the slightly-larger "Commander Class" toys for larger characters, like Dread member HATCHET.

The concurrently-running Prime toyline also had Cyberverse toys at both Legion and Commander classes. This version of KNOCK OUT was a redeco of a more screen-accurate release that came with a massive Energon Driller vehicle.

In Japan, Legends toys were called "EZ Collection", and usually were sold in blindpacked boxes, often in convenience stores. Some were "candy toys", coming with a tiny piece of candy to be sold w/o taxes, like the EZ COLLECTION GUM toys shown here, shiny-shiny versions of CONVOY, HOT RODIMUS, PROWL, MEGATRON and STARSCREAM, each with a piece of chiclet-like lemon gum.

Takara had many EZ Collection promotional giveaways. GRIMLOCK CLEAR VER. was a gift at Edion and Bic Camera stores w/ 3000 yen of Adventure toys... and Adventure (aka Robots in Disguise 2015; yes, TF is very recursive) was the last line to have this size for a while.

The "Cyberverse" name would be re-used for a new franchise in 2018 (yes, TF is very recursive), which did not feature any Legends/Cyberverse toys. The niche kind of got taken over by the blind-bagged Tiny Turbo Changers for The Last Knight and Cyberverse.

A very short run of Legends-style "Speed Series" toys were made for the 2018 Bumblebee movie line, meant to attach to larger "Energon Igniter" engines that would push them forward via gear-fed motor. A few of these have been re-released for Rise of the Beasts.

Nowadays, the small-scale TF segment is mostly taken up by the Core Class price point (not to be confused with the ROTB "Core" series; yes, TF is very recursive), which I suppose you could argue are Cyberverse Commander-ish, but they're more like the Basics of old.

Any rate, if you enjoy these pics and themed trips down the history of the TF toyline, why not check out and throw a coin into my Patreon?

www dot patreon dot com / gregstfwikipics

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