#nav's yapping time

[navsstuff]

I still don't understand why tf Norman and the demons were so threatened by Mujika ability to stay in shape without any human brain

Maybe the demon thought about her trying to overthrown legravalima? Maybe they're envious

Norman's obsession with revenge blinded him from seeing how harmless Mujika was and is as a Queen

[samaraxmorgan]

I was SO BRAVE last night (watched a YouTube tutorial on how to render) and am FINALLY picking back up this wip I abandoned

[puppyeared]

oh yea.. its all coming together

[bb-enablefreebuild]

Gideon in a form fitting dress. Gideon in a black dress that hugs every single one of her muscles. Gideon in a dress would rival Corona. Tazmuir made her butch to conceal her power from the world. And I understand why.

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part two

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 1.6k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee

the song in this chapter is "Nothing You Can Take From Me" by The Covey Band !!

a/n: sorry 'bout this :)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

"You can kiss my ass, then keep on walkin'!"

Josie's singing from up by the horses makes you giggle as you're helping Max load up the back of the wagon with your instruments.

"Jay, you know you ain't supposed to say that word!" You call out, a fond smile on your face as you glance over the front bench of the wagon and down at her as she feeds one of our horses an apple.

"You get to say it!" She rebuffs stubbornly, and you turn back as Max nudges you with his sister's fiddle case for you to pack it.

"That's 'cause she's full grown, little miss." He laughs, his brown eyes sparkling even in the dimness of the night. "You can say it too, but not just yet."

"Soon?" The little girl asks hopefully, her mousy brown hair bobbing around her chin as she climbs up onto the wagon with you as you tuck the fiddle away next to the small drums belonging to the kids.

"Maybe one day, as a treat, I'll let ya do that line for me. Maybe." You offer in exchange. "But until you're eighteen, you gotta watch your mouth."

Max hands you your guitar case last, and you tuck it behind the rest of the instruments and toss a blanket over the top of it to keep it covered in the night.

Josie claps happily as Sarah lifts Harvey onto the wagon, and you're all ready to go. Onto another town, more shows, and more nighttime rides through the country's beautiful trails under the night sky.

You climb over onto the drivers bench while Max hops up the other side and settles in next to you. "We got everyone?" He asks, taking the reins and glancing back over his shoulder at the three kids getting comfortable in the back.

"All accounted for!" Sarah calls back, making sure the kids are sitting down as Max flicks the reins and the wagon starts to move slowly in the direction out of town.

"On with the show, then!" Max calls cheerily over the kids singing in the back.

You look back over your shoulder as you hear some very normal shouts coming from the saloon, smiling a bit to yourself as you turn back to face the trail.

"No Billy tonight either, hey?" Max asks quietly after a solid half hour of comfortable silence between the two of you up front, the kids yapping in the back having slowed to a steady stop as they fell asleep by the relaxing and steady rock of the wagon.

You look over at him, a slightly sad smile on your face as you shake your head. "Nope."

"He'll find you." He says, gently bumping your shoulder with his and glancing over at you, a small smile on his face. "And if he can't, someday soon there will be posters from Silver City to Detroit with your face plastered all over 'em. "Come see the world's best singer live in show!" They'll say. Trust me, he won't be able to miss you then."

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head and leaning it against his shoulder. "He may have to squint at it, it'll have all of us squeezed on. "The best band America has ever seen"." You correct him.

"No." He shakes his head, scrunching up his nose a bit. "You're tyin' us all together. On and off the stage. Without you singing, we're mediocre at best."

"Hey!" You chuckle, sitting up and smacking his arm playfully. "That ain't true and you know it."

The old wagon creaks underneath you with every divet in the dark path, and it's a comforting background noise to your hushed conversation.

Max has been your best friend your whole life. A little boy a year or so older than you and his baby sister dropped off the same way you were, with a funny accent you one day learned was Parisian. You picked fun at him, sure, but he was a good sport. Neither of you would have had it any other way.

Though, you had tried, once. The two of you at fourteen years old telling other kids at the home that you were getting married, a childish and adorable dream in hindsight, but at the time made all the sense in the world. Then you had kissed him, just to try it, and both of you laughed so hard you woke one of the nuns. She dragged you back to your room, and after that, you never spoke of it again.

You were best friends, yes, but neither of you were quite right for one another. And he told you that one day you would just know.

Max had never seen you look at someone the way you looked at Billy that night a few weeks ago. What really drove it home was how you didn't immediately have to leave and then begin spewing distasteful words about the man who had just bought your water and honey shot for you. You just had this sweet, almost bashful smile on your face and you kept humming to yourself as you helped him pack up the wagon just like you did tonight. You said nothing, and to Max, that said just enough.

He had seen plenty of men and boys look at you the way Billy had that night, but you were sharp as a tack in mind and wit- and if you weren't put off by him? Hell, Max saw no harm in you chasing some kind of happiness outside of the music you make.

"It's... kinda true." He chuckles, looking back at the sleeping kids. "You could easily go big on your own."

"I don't want to." You shrug, looking down at your hands in your lap. "What's wrong with what we've got goin' on here? I'm happy as a clam the way we are."

"Sure, nothin's wrong with this life, but..." Max lets out a quiet sigh, looking over at you again with the reins still clasped loosely in his palms. "I don't know... I want more for you. And for them. Wouldn't it be great for them to have a home? For the kids to go to a real schoolhouse, meet other friends, have their own beds to sleep at night?"

You nod quietly in agreement. You were happy, the kids were happy for now too, but what you had wasn't normal and you knew that. What all of you had always wanted was a home, and now that you were on your own, you still didn't have it.

Max gives you a small smile, not wanting to get you down on it. "Shoot for your dreams, little girl." He says teasingly after a moment, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you gently. "For the stars."

"Oh, please, I-" Your small laugh is interrupted when he quickly retreats his arm from your shoulder.

"Shh..." Max hushes you quickly, looking at the path up ahead, squinting at the dim lantern light flickering in the back of a wagon up ahead that seems to be stopped across the path.

"What? Wha-"

He hushes you again more urgently this time, head turning when he hears hoofbeats not belonging to your horses coming from up ahead as well.

"Get in the back with the kids." He whispers, pushing on your arm to get you to go.

"Max, it's fine, I'll just stay here."

"Go lay down, pretend to be asleep. I'm sure they just need help with a broken wheel or something, but I don't want you talking to strangers out here." He whispers. "I'll handle it."

You sigh, knowing how stubborn he is about this kind of thing, and climb over the bench and into the back of the wagon with the others. You curl up next to Harvey and drape an arm over him, holding him close for a bit more warmth and gently stroking his hair as you ride closer to the stopped wagon.

Eyes closed, you listen intently as you feel the wagon come to a stop and hear Max climb down, his boots hitting the ground with a quiet thud against the grass.

"Hey, you alright here?" Max asks, and then the subtle but chilling click of a gun being loaded.

Your blood runs cold, but you don't move.

"What have you got in the back?" And then another click, and footsteps getting closer.

"Nothing." Max says, and you can only hear the tremble in his voice because you know him. "Just my family. Just the kids. I promise, we haven't got anything you'd want."

"You've got kids with you and not a dime to your name? I don't believe that for a minute. You gotta feed 'em somehow." A man's voice says, deep and gruff without giving you any sense they'll be sympathetic to the cause. "You won't mind if we just take a look, right?"

You squeeze your eyes shut and hold Harvey a little tighter, grateful that he's still snoring quietly in your arms.

"I do mind." Max insists, sounding more angry than you're sure you'd ever heard him. "We're unarmed, all there is back there is children sleeping and some old instruments. So no, you can't look."

Kids and instruments, yes, but there are kids and instruments and you. A pretty girl with her show dress still on, hair done up just the way you like it, and the old necklace you believe might have one day way back when had belonged to your mother. Maximilien wasn't about to let them get to any of you if he could help it.

The hair standing up on the back of your neck and the goosebumps on your arms send a shiver down your spine when you hear footsteps approaching the back of the wagon and see the flickered light of a lantern getting closer.

"No! Hey!" Max calls out, and there's a shuffle that makes you jolt a bit, a crack that tells you someone's thrown a punch, and right as Harvey tries to quickly sit up while you hold him down, a gunshot pierces your ears followed by the sound of someone's body slumping to the ground.

You know whose body it was. After all, Max wasn't lying about you being unarmed.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[chopped-meat]

✦ hi hello intro time ✦

im meat (she/her), im 18 and i like drawing sometimes. im pretty new to tumble (ex twt dweller) but everyone's been so sweet in the reblogs and it makes me very excited to be here :D

how 2 nav my page: art tag: #myart, #reqs and #wip , yap: #meatspeaks

art reqs and trades r closed !!! i fear im in college but i will answer questions or reply to little msgs in the inbox once in a while

+ no particular dnis just dont be weird lawl + idm my art being used for pfps, headers, wallpapers wtv just credit!

[spaceagebachelormann]

doing your makeup with phantom of the opera characters !

✧ warnings: none!

✧ characters included: christine daaé, erik destler, raoul de chagny, meg giry, carlotta giudicelli

✧ additional info: these can be read as any versions! however characters like christine and meg are mainly based off the book and musical versions :) can also be read platonically OR romantically

✧ nav. — m.list

*ೃ༄ christine daaé

she does her makeup with you!

i feel like she prefers doing hers with someone in the room so she can a second opinion on how hers looks and she’ll do the same for them

she’d probably ask you to help her put some of it on cause book!christine canonically has bad vision

and she’d ask to do some of urs for funsies :)

despite her bad eyesight i feel like she’s actually very good at it cause she’s gotten used to it

overall a very nice experience cause christine is such a cutie <3

ೃ༄ erik destler

he’s intrigued

i feel like he also knows how to do makeup cause he wanted to cover up his face

anyway!! he’d only know how to use foundation and stuff for ur skin so hes rlly interested in mascara and eyeliner and eyeshadow and that stuff

100% let’s u try lipsticks on his arm

he also gives u his honest opinion on ur makeup when ur finished or almost finished (i hc hes brutually honest)

he also asks like a lot of questions

“what’s this” and he’s holding ur highlighter

probably also wants u to put some on him but is too afraid to ask

ೃ༄ raoul de chagny

he’s kind of like christine

but he’s much more energetic abt it

will suggest u wear the sparkliest eyeshadow he can find 😭

other than that he knows literally nothing about makeup but still wants to try and do it for you

and it’s best to say no because chances are he’ll fuck it up (badly)

he’ll also randomly pick something up and put it on himself for funsies

when he finds ur blush he’ll put them directly on his cheeks in circles like when little kids find their moms makeup

probably takes forever to clean him up too

he’s rlly inquisitive during it and asks nonstop questions but most of them are just to be annoying

ೃ༄ meg giry

almost the same as raoul but she mainly just yaps the whole time

it’s actually a very calming experience with her surprisingly

u just sit there and do ur thing and she’ll mind her own business and talk abt her day and asks abt urs too!

it’s also a gossip session

“i heard that carlotta might get fired and replaced by christine” is probably a common one

another one who’s brutually honest and gives her opinion

is not afraid to tell u if u look like shit but like 99% of the time she tells u look absolutely lovely

ೃ༄ carlotta giudicelli

so as we all know she’s kinda mean.. so she’s also very honest about your makeup

if your friends she’ll most likely just be saying it to make sure u look ur best, even if she is a little rude about it

if she doesn’t like you she just wants to piss you off

but she probably also wouldn’t be there if y’all weren’t friends

i feel like if u were taking too long or just didn’t look good enough (to her standards) she’d just be like “oh my god let me” and start doing it for u

if she’s not doing that she’ll use the time to practice her singing

she enjoys ur company and probably becomes nicer during this time <3

taglist : @faerieroyal (ik ur not on my phantom taglist but i love attention 😭)

[crookedghosts]

[ about.masterlist.txt ]

I write on ao3 @ crookedteeth :)

for reference, I update my current fandoms in my description all the time (for reblogs mostly), and I post for every Ao3 update under #my works, but I'll list what I'm writing about here // spoiler: it's mostly pjo rn, despite other interests

PJO/Riordanverse:

COMPLETED:

— beauty, heartbreaker, repair boy (labyrinth) (more info/tumblr post)

jasipereo, post-BoO canon divergence, oneshot

— satellite (more info/tumblr post)

jasipereo, soulmate AU, leo valdez centric, 2/2 chapters completed

UPDATING:

— crown & flame (more info/tumblr post)

valgrace, RWRB au, longfic with sporadic posting (1/? chapters up)

— method acting (more info/tumblr post)

valgrace, fake dating @ wedding AU w/ roommates to best friends to lovers trope, 4/5 chapters up

— fault lines (more info/tumblr post)

jiper/liper/valgrace, tennis/challengers AU, 2/5 chapters up

other blog navs

#my works = all new fics and new chapters as uploaded to Ao3

#writing lore = yapping about my fics

#writing snippets = snippets.... of my writing

these are super distilled descriptions as this is just for consolidation purposes, but all of those tumblr posts have links to the fics, writing snippets, and summaries listed out (as well as tags ofc). I only post my writing on Ao3 for now, but would consider making a drabbles tag on tumblr if I ever got to it, hehe

[vanilllaicecream]

ive tried to watch skam to 'forbedre' my norwegian, i since failed because it was a snorefest

so i've decided to watch something that is on par with my hyperfixation and exactly describes my experiences here

LILYHAMMER

(me wearing my norge sweater and trying to look native as possible)

ok so im gonna yap so warning

tw me being awfully rude to norwegians and making fun of them

i watched only ep1 and 2 so ill update it when I have the time ok lessgo

naming it lilyhammer after his dog is funny asf (i can make a joke about my city but i'll prob dox myself)

seeing silvio from sopranos made my life better love you silvio

the train scene is so true, i hate the boys here i can't explain how uninteresting they are (rude, look dirty with them low waisted pants, they way they talk and how they are so... je ne sais que... lazy)

i also hate nav and im grad that ill never step there in the near future... awful way of treating foreigners, especially of they don't know any languages (case with my uncle and dad who had to manage with just broken english - our country was only sunny beach and drugs to nordmann ig)

also about nav, it's a very shit way to get a dnummer and if you need one just straight up tell them like I had to go and talk weeks in skatetatten and then poof i gottit

next up - norskkurset (the bane of my existence) and that nav guy is so disgusting like ugh, so i haven't been in jobbsøkerkurs so idk how is it but my uncle says it's just telling you how to not act and be norwegian as possible

its interesting how everyone knows eachother (i thought lillehammer was bigger?)

the hospital scene is so true bc my fam ofter has problems with the hospital and atp we've probably cursed the whole industry in norway (very dumb people despite having high education)

also everyone talking to silvio in norwegian and him answering in english is so me (i try but it's so hard ans they mostly look me the wrong way)

also... having slavic immgrants is always funny to me (seeing every 3rd person being polish/ukrainian)

silvio knowing norwegian for 2 days is so unrealistic to me but hey it is a comedy (someone show him karense rq)

tbh i love this show pls don't flame me

biker gangs are so funny to me cuz they can't even have mafia here, the rules are to strong

bulling is so strange-ly handled here tf you mean we gotta handle this by talking my parents will tell me to beat the shit outta them (my teacher too)

ok rant done norwegians please don't hate me i love svineribbe, i love jul and i certainly love when stores have the same fucking three colors for clothes ok??

also, im glad to live here, no i will not move, but goddamn please listen to us when we say your county has a big discrimination problem

[amousewithnocheese]

i also like spiderman (probably not to the extent that you do) and i saw that there were spiderman stickers at five below when i went last time idk if you live where a five below is but if you do then yeah!!! i when it comes to my special interests i throw them on EVERYTHING (my shark stuff for example) but its like my room has so many posters and even i make stuff myself sometimes for my decor and like i really enjoy surrounding myself with my special interests its like ‘hey everyone!! i love this thing and it makes me so happy!!!’ and i think its great

yeah i am so very happy to meet people who are like me because i have struggled with making friends for so long /nav and to finally belong feels so awesome and amazing!!!

i like that idea of using the emojis as names i think thats neat

also yes we do both like cartoons!! i like stuff aimed towards kids (bluey, steven universe, gravity falls) and she likes like, stuff geared to an older audience (family guy, american dad, south park) so yes i think that cartoon reccommendations would be super awesome!!

also it makes me happy also to talk to people through asks so yay :D i will probably go to bed soon tho since its around the time i start to like set up my backpack and all that also random but like youre very good at holding conversations im noticing like you ask lots of questions and it keeps people engaged and i think that is great and cool 👍🏼 its around night time so ill say good night but if its not night for you then have a good rest of ur day!!

-🐶

im gonna say goodnight to you too then! (it’s nighttime here too but im doing homework auughgh) however I’ll edit this response when i have a bit more brainspace!! I hope you sleep so comfy, 🐶

yippee~

edited:

okay im well rested and prepared to answer this😎

yes, i am the ultimate spiderman fan (i have a friend that loves it more than me actually!) and yessss i know five below; i don’t know of one nearby (just recently moved, college, bleh) but ill look for one/when i visit home ill go to one!

i also really love surrounding myself with my special interests!

ive also struggled with making friends before, so i understand how happy you are!!! wahooo!!!

i will continue to do it then😎😎 hehe~

i also liked cartoons aimed towards kids (the owl house, gravity falls, bluey) but ive also watched some older ones as well, i just don’t like them as much🤭but im really into series’ right nowwww

yay!!! im so honored ahdkwbdke i try to be better at holding conversations ‘cause sometimes when i try with people irl its super dry ‘cause i dunno what to say so 🥰🥰a little guide i have to questions is that if all else fails and you’re struggling to think of something to say, ask people about themselves! most of the time they like to yap :3 (but yes i do love hearing about people as well)

[samaraxmorgan]

I found a bunch of facial expressions on twitter and am trying to use them to practice drawing Sukuna but I can’t tell if I love or hate them askaksmsm

[pearlzier]

this is so random i apologize (THIS ISNT A VENT!! im just curious is all 😵‍💫) but sometimes when i get new obsessions and tell my friends about them they always tell me that im probably neurodivergent and i always pause and think.. “am i.. neurodivergent?” LIKE EVERY-TIME I ASK THEM THEY’RE LIKE “..yeah, you should get diagnosed.” but it’s been over a year since i tried to get an actual diagnosis so im over here wondering if im overthinking shiz or if im truly undiagnosed. it’s so awkward having to bring this up to any trusted adult shsjshsj cause getting a call back for a diagnosis takes so long omg. and i don’t know if its offensive to call my obsessions hyperfixations if i don’t have an actual diagnosis or explanation for why my brain works the way it does.. (im also incredibly anxious about full on asking someone this.. that’s why im currently using the anon-thingy.)

im sorry for the yap session but this is something that’s been on my mind for multiple years already. like i’ve been wondering if i have audhd or just adhd. i can never be normal about stuff i like so.. 🙁

anyway.. i hope ur day is going well <3

i've never felt more seen or like. related to something more i'm in the same place and have been for a long time now ☹️ i absolutely get you dont worry !!

being neurodivergent is the only thing to me that sort of explains things to me ? like. im the type of person who needs reasons behind things and i feel like i'm just not wired like my friends idk how to explain it i just. you've explained it in a way i can't 😭 thank u

esp bot being normal about the stuff you like !! me too !!!! i wanna know why i am the way i am and why i feel so different 😭 you're absolutely so real for this and i hope you can find some closure even if just a little !

/nav !!! i just feel this is super important and like yeah ! i hope u have an amazing day <3

[pseudonympls]

Playing Games

Bo Burnham x AFAB Reader. She/her pronouns.

A/N: The masturbation fic is here, with hints of switch! and dom! Bo.

I tried something a little different this time with perspective shifts, not sure if it works but was worth a go!

I have to say that my working title for this fic was "I need you, but my hand will do" because it's too funny not to share, but I thought it was a little silly to be the final title lmao. Enjoy!

Rating: Explicit

Masturbation. Mutual masturbation. Explicit sex. Switch!Bo. Dom!Bo. Bratting. Punishment. Choking. Creampie. Fucked to tears. Begging. Established relationship. Fucked to tears.

Era: Post Eighth Grade

Word Count: 5.4k

Sliding into the back seat of the taxi with a wide grin plastering your face you quickly gave the driver your address. Sorting through your various bags and personal effects you looked at your phone. Midday, a week early, no less! You giggled a little to yourself, your excitement barely contained as the driver thumbed your address into the sat nav and started the twenty minute journey home.

How you had missed him so - it wasn’t so hard when the both of you were busy, keenly distracted by work or by projects. Fleeting calls and hurried texts sent over several time zones. But when one half of you was at home, breaking out of a fog of depression that had hung over him for years since he quit stand up, and you were out busying yourself, it felt wrong - like you’d let him down.

You knew that wasn’t the case - that Bo would support you until the ends of the earth, he loved that you were driven and a lot of the time - inspiration bounced off of you both like looking into a mirror - his success was yours, and yours his.

Just being apart when your bodies ached to be together was so hard, so difficult on the both of you.

But that was soon to be behind you, fifteen minutes now and you’d be home, with Bo. Bruce excitedly yapping at your feet, Bo’s beautiful smile that could wreck lives and his gorgeous blue eyes that you’d likely drown in, were waiting for you.

* * *

He sighed, looking at his phone, midday. It had reached midday again, another day without her. He was so incredibly proud of her, how she travelled far and wide to shoots and meetings, she was driven - and he loved that about her. The same could not be said about him.

He had spent the last few years shielding himself from anything that could tip the scales back to madness again. Back to that dark place. Riding the tailcoats of his former stand up career could only take him so far. Sure, he landed a few minor roles in a few (admittedly crappy) movies. Sure, he’d just finished the last few lingering press release commitments for Eighth Grade, but now he felt at a loss. What was to come next? What did he want next?

Aside from a few performances at Largo here and there, workshopping some new material, he hadn’t been on stage for years, literal years. He couldn’t stop himself from creating - that was his own personal cross to bear. Art demanded to be created, demanded to be felt, even if it was only by him, his girlfriend and a few close friends.

Sure, he’d been writing, playing, creating, but what next?

He flicked through his phone photo album, so very aware of what reminiscing could lead to - disappointment. Anger. Guilt.

But there were a few photos nestled amongst the food recipe screenshots and pictures of Bruce. Photos she’d sent him while she was away.

The breath hitched in his throat - he’d been so adamant at keeping busy while she was away that he’d barely had any time for himself. Just the mere sight of her peaked nipples through the lingerie teddy he’d bought her had him stiffening in seconds. Cascades of butterflies flit down his abdomen, nestling between his legs at the thought of her dressing up for him. In some cold, impersonal hotel room hundreds of miles away, but that little glimmer of her want for him shone through in the photo.

He really did love it when she sent him stuff like this, made him feel wanted, desired, across the distance. Not only that but it was fuel for the embers that were glowing in his stomach- a good excuse if any, to get off.

He swiped through the pictures slowly, savouring each one, how it made his hardness ache for her, twinge at the thought of feeling her. It had only been a week, but it had felt like a lifetime - without her tender touch, without her blushing lips on his.

That was enough, he thought. His large palm came to his sweatpants, palming himself softly through the grey jersey, savouring each flicker of pleasure that flit through him, his eyes focused solely on the half unclothed pictures she’d sent him. A sliver of skin, the curve of a breast, the bite of a lip, they all set off tiny fireworks down his spine as he gave in. Raising his hips a little he shoved down the waistband of his sweatpants, just enough to reveal the throbbing want protruding from him. Thick, long, perfectly in proportion with his massive hands, as he went to work.

He wanted this to be a slow, drawn out, teasing session, plying his mind with memories of all the tortuous lovemaking sessions gone by. He didn’t want this one to be a quickie, he wanted to feel everything, let his lids slip shut and imagine her here: willing to be an instrument to his pleasure, as he was to hers. A symbiosis he’d never really experienced before. His pleasure was hers, the melting of body and mind seemingly fraught through the slicking of skin and the tasting of tongues. A beautiful synchronicity.

A gentle groan escaped his lips as he grasped around the length, it felt good, but it would never feel as good as her doing this, of her fingers wrapped tightly around him, of her aching walls threatening to come apart on him. He tried to ignore how different it felt and eyed the photo on his phone, her hand suggestively placed over that warm, wet home of his between her thighs. A bead of precum escaped the tip and he worked it into the length of him, spreading it around and wishing it were her wetness, her pool of desire so full for him it fit to burst.

No amount of phone sex or dirty pictures would compare to the real thing - but it would have to do for now. She wasn’t due back for another week at least, and this little session would do little to tide him over until then, until she was back in his arms, back nestled in their bed together, back being buried into the mattress as he ploughed relentlessly into her.

Yeah, that was a good train of thought to tap into. The last night they spent together before she flew out, how they spent the entire day in the house, barely stopping for air as they soaked up as much of each other as they could. He’d had her in the kitchen on the island - cold, she had complained, but he’d quickly shut her up. He’d spread her on the dining room table and feasted upon her until she was begging for mercy, and the last time, how she had woken him up, hours before her flight, mouth dripping and sucking around him underneath the sheets, what a way to say goodbye.

Spinning slightly in his office chair he swiped to the next photo - her doe eyes looked up suggestively at him from the screen, and his cock twitched in his hand, something deep in his hindbrain told him to quicken his pace, to empty his load out now. But he resisted the aching swell to finish himself off - he wanted this to last, to be a homage to his desire for her, however much it begged to be released, he would keep at it - gently restrained. Until he was ready to let it consume him.

* * *

You stepped out of the cab and grabbed your luggage, thanking the driver and heading towards the house. You fished for the keys in your purse, before you had a great idea. Instead of the fanfare of the old front door and its squeaking hinges - a surefire way to announce your arrival, and bring both Bo and Bruce running - you decided to sneak around the back.

The recently repaired french doors that led into the living room would be your entry, quiet, stealth, a true surprise. After all, you hadn’t told Bo that you would be returning this early, as far as he knew you were coming back in a week - he had no clue that you’d managed to get things wrapped early and left the rest to your assistants.

Closing the gate silently behind you, you walked up to the doors, peering inside to see any sign of him around. Cuddled up on the couch with Bruce was his usual position, but you couldn’t see signs of either of them as you approached.

Unlocking the door it swang open quietly, barely a whisper as your footsteps padded along the carpet, placing your luggage next to the couch. You halted for a second, listening out for Bruce’s nails scrambling against the floor or for Bo’s lumbering footsteps - nothing.

Tiptoeing through the house you began to wonder if anyone was home at all - until you peered round the doorway to the office. Your eyes grew wide as you saw him, sitting in his office chair, grey sweatpants hung around his lower thighs, loosely fisting his cock with one hand, and staring at his phone in the other.

A rush of embarrassment licked up your spine, quickly being replaced with curiosity - a heat pooled in your abdomen, seeing him touch himself like that.

You kept yourself hidden, just your eyes peeking over the threshold as you watched him.

You smirked, you’d caught him pleasuring himself a few times over the years - naturally there was nothing to be embarrassed about, it was a normal behaviour that you both liked to indulge in from time to time.

You felt your pupils dilate at seeing him gently sliding his thick fingers over his throbbing cock, and you felt your own throb deep in between your legs, a searing heat that had been smouldering all the while you’d been away. You couldn’t help yourself from teasing him, sending him dirty pictures of yourself in impersonal, bland hotel rooms across the country. Livening up the decor a bit as you sprawled yourself over the king size bed in nothing but underwear, or a hotel bathrobe open just enough to see a sliver of freshly dampened skin, or Bo’s favourite - that burgundy sheer teddy he’d surprised you with before you flew out, how he’d tried his best not to rip it off you when you tried it on for him.

But all of his dirty words over the phone were a small reprieve from the burning ache you had for him, quick sessions alone in the shower before you went on set for the day were a fast remedy for the lust deep in your belly - but the only cure was him, his body, that cock twitching in his fist.

You wondered what he was so enamoured with on his phone - you didn’t delude yourself with the idea that he didn’t look at porn, you both watched from time to time - often together. The difficult thing was finding decently shot and ethical porn that suited your tastes, oftentimes just the thought of him was enough to bring you to a heady climax, but you knew as well as he did that Bo was incredibly visual.

You flinched as he spun around in his chair, dodging behind the door frame for a second as you thought he’d caught you. But you heard his hurried breaths continue, and peeked your face around the corner again. This time you could see his back turned, the phone in his left hand, and the sordid pictures that you’d sent him a few days ago lighting up the screen.

Your stomach took a nosedive and you breathed in a solitary gasp, he was touching himself over you. You sent the pictures in full knowledge of the fact that he would, but it surprised you so to see it in person, to see the fruits of your labour, unleashed in front of you in the form of Bo gently teasing the end of his cock, flicking between the photos you’d sent him.

Feeling the heat soak through your panties you bit your lip - how much longer could you stand to watch him? Would it be rude to interrupt? No, you’d walked in on him before and after a few shared giggles, joined in with the fun. It was all you wanted right now, but could you draw it out a little bit, string yourself along for the ride, knowing that giving in would be all the more satisfying?

You could see his right arm tensing slightly, he was struggling to keep the pace, and you were unsure how much more of this you could stand.

Then his head fell back against the headrest and he whispered your name, biting down on his lower lip, he paused, grunted, and carried back on, still at a steady pace. Electricity cascaded down your back - hearing his lips wrap around your name made you clench your thighs together, making you even more aware of the dampness that was surely ruining your underwear.

You tiptoed back to the living room, concocting a plan.

Opening up your suitcase your fingers found the silky soft teddy, picked up fresh from the laundrette today. Your heart hammering in your chest, you undressed and, as quietly as you could, stepped into the sheer garment - the fabric a tonic to your skin, permanently on fire from watching him for the last ten minutes.

Glee ripped through you like a schoolgirl, the unbridled excitement tingling every hair on your body until it stood on end. Passing a mirror on the way back to the office you zhuzhed up your hair, your fingers tangling a little bit of life into the aeroplane seat flattened hair. Running your teeth along your lips to bring a bit of blood to the surface you smiled, tangled knots writhing in your belly as you stepped slowly toward the office - hoping that he hadn’t finished yet.

Much to your delight he was still going, the tendons and sinews pulsing in his arm as he worked, his left hand shaking, still flicking through the different photos that you’d sent him.

You stood in the doorway, one hand on the curve of your waist and another on the doorframe, and whispered “Having fun without me?” - a faux sad lilt to your voice.

* * *

Slicking the precum oozing out his head over the rest of him he picked up the pace, closing his eyes and pressing his head into the headrest he groaned her name, how he wished her to be here right now. Teasing him, kissing him, loving him.

He had to pause for a second - he was close, too close. Ragged breathing peeled out of his mouth as his hand came to a stop, sure that even a small breeze would tip him over the edge and have him spurting everywhere. Once the wave had passed he started up again, eyes flitting between the pictures on his phone and steamy memories of times gone by,

This was going to be it, he’d work himself up now, and he had the perfect scenario in his head.

That one time, ten months ago where she’d come to visit on the set of Eighth Grade, he was fucking exhausted, wiped out, but she had come to lick his wounds.

All the cast and crew had departed and Bo was left to ruminate over the dailies, flicking back and forth over numerous scenes until he felt like his eyes would bleed if he looked at any more footage.

She came up behind him, knowing full well that the whole place was empty, dropping to her knees she relieved him of the zipper, pulled taut at the realisation of what she was about to do to him.

Taking as much as she could into her mouth, lazily rolling her tongue over the sensitive tip he almost blew it all, but what tipped him over the edge was that look in her eyes from the ground, the gutteral sound she made when his cock hit the back of her throat - no small feat as she could barely get a few inches in without gagging on it.

He was picking up the pace, his breaths matching the frenetic strokes. His fingers getting sloppy as every muscle in his body tensed with the impending release, his mind weaving together the memory of her going down on him with his movements, trying desperately to sync them together, to make one bleed into the other, a seamless pleasure.

Opening his eyes one last time as he flicked through the pictures of her, trying to add to the fantasy that she was here and pleasing him, wrapping her sweet mouth around him, gazing up at him through her lashes to bring him to a shuddering, gasping peak.

On the precipice of completion, his orgasm just starting to build he heard her voice, clear as day and right behind him, a soft, almost sad tone to it.

“Having fun without me?”

His wrist paused, and for a split second he wondered whether he’d gone mad - whether he’d imagined those words, but the proximity was too real to be imagined. Too close.

He spun around in the chair to face her, cock in one hand, phone in the other, totally at a loss for words, and a fleck of embarrassment snaking up his spine.

There she was, standing there in a gorgeous state of undress, wearing the exact same sheer teddy that she had on in the photos – a mirror image.

* * *

His mouth was open, cock still standing to attention in his hand, mid pump, as you smiled bashfully.

You sauntered over to him, watching his eyes drink in your form, his pupils pausing at your breasts, honing in on that liquid want between your thighs and resuming to your face.

“I..I thought you weren’t back for a week?” he said, phone still cradled loosely in his left hand.

“Lucky for you, I had everything done early” you answered, your eyes scanning over his features like a predator, fingers still curled around his shaft, which twitched in your presence.

You took the phone from his hand, flicking through the pictures of yourself you suppressed a giggle, and set the phone on the desk.

“I missed you so much I…” he began, releasing himself and grabbing for you, stopping only to not trip up on his own lowered sweatpants.

“I missed you too baby,” you whispered “But don’t stop on my account, please, carry on” you teased, gesturing to his hand and his now lonely hardness.

He raised eyebrows at you, cottoning on to the game you were playing, and you saw from the fire in his eyes that he was more than willing to play along.

You circled around him to the desk and hopped up to sit on it, swinging your legs wildly.

Using his legs to scoot back around to you, with a question in his eyes, brows furrowed he glanced down at himself. You nodded as you spread your palms on the desk behind you, and held your position as you watched him start to jerk off in front of you.

The corners of his mouth tugged a little, his hand resuming those ruinous movements. You made sure not to break eye contact as he loosely fisted his cock, although you did afford yourself a few tantalising glances down at him, how the head glistened with desire.

Licking your lips you readjusted yourself on the desk. Shyly parting your thighs, you bit into your bottom lip, seeing the realisation dawn on Bo’s face as your legs widened. You hiked up the remaining sheer fabric for easier access and slid your fingers up and down your drenched folds, making sure to keen quietly as you maintained eye contact.

“F-fuck” Bo groaned, his eyes unsure where to go - your face, your chest, your hand playing with yourself, it all seemed a little much. His cheeks flushed pink as your mouth opened, your fingers pressing into your hole, enjoying the sensations but losing yourself to the flustered look on his face as you toyed with yourself.

“This is what we’ve been doing, isn't it?” you whispered, massaging slow circles around your clit as you looked him straight in the eye.

“T-touching ourselves at the thought of each other, every day” you continued, your breathing laboured as a swell of pleasure started to course through your veins.

“Sometimes, more than once a day” Bo replied, his voice straining, the lines on his forehead becoming increasingly apparent.

“Mmhmm” you moaned, one hand palm down against the desk and your head starting to lull back, your fingers working in smaller circles as your walls began to tighten in anticipation.

“But now you’re here, we can…” but you barely let him finish.

You were so turned on beyond belief, you wanted him inside you, but you wanted to draw it out, tease him, damn the consequences.

“J-just one sec” you moaned, your head tilting back but your half lidded eyes still pinned to him like magnets.

“Please, honey I…” you saw the plea in his eyes and heard it on his lips, but you weren’t going to give in, you were going to take this one for yourself.

Your knees began to tremble, noticeable on the edge of the desk, your face felt burning hot, and small beads of sweat began to form on your forehead, all telltale signs that you were close - and Bo knew it. He knew those signs like he knew his own, like the back of his hand pumping on his too-sensitive shaft.

The strings were tightened, impossibly tight, straining against the pressure, the string wound so dangerously taut it would snap, and it did. Your fingers aching with fatigue pushed on through the pain, your eyes trying desperately to stay open to watch Bo’s watching you.

“B-Bo” you groaned, your eyes tilting back into your head as your orgasm crashed over you in waves, the first so strong you thought it would knock you clean off the desk.

The delicious pulses started at your cunt and reverborated out to every inch of your body, every pore was singing with pleasure as you finished yourself off - feeling even better knowing that Bo was watching, filling his brain with images of you wantonly spread on the desk for him, just daring him to make a move.

Eventually you opened your eyes, a sweet haze surrounding everything, but especially Bo, his hand clasped around his rock hard member, his mouth open, aghast at what he had just witnessed.

“Too shy to have me watch you?” you remarked, your breaths evening out back to a normal pattern.

“I-I don’t want you to watch me” Bo smirked, lowering his sweatpants to the floor and standing up - towering over you, even though you’d only been gone a week his size intimidated you a little - even after all these years. You’d never really gotten used to it.

Much like something else of substantial size. Your eyes flit down to his cock - the head flushed deep red with the relentless teasing, now surely ready to blow as he walked toward the desk.

“I want you to scream for me” He lowered himself a little and captured your lips with his, bracing a palm under your chin to angle you up towards him - painfully almost.

“If you’re quite finished being a brat…” he hissed against your lips.

Oh.

He was going to make you pay for what you’d just done. You’d had your fun, and now he was about to have his.

You gasped against his lips, against the raw force of them, the way they attacked yours with the hunger of a starved man eating his first meal in weeks, lapping you up like he’d never see sustenance again.

His other hand came to your knees, pressed together he simply snarled a “open” against your lips and you obliged, parting your thighs for him so he could stand between them. You didn’t want to think about what he would do if you hesitated.

Bracing your palms against the wood of the desk you inwardly wondered if you’d regretted what you’d done, but you knew you were in good hands. You were a good girl and always endured your punishment. It was always deserved.

Bo growled sharp stubbly kisses down your neck, eliciting hushed gasps and a bundle of worry to begin knotting in your stomach. He always filled you with apprehension when he was like this, animalistic and harsh, teeth and tongue and stinging slaps on your behind, but you loved every second of it.

With one hand he gripped your shoulder, with the other he was pulling loosely at himself at your entrance, barely touching you but you could feel the heat of him - the raw, hot sex that leached off of his body, it was maddening.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps rallying along your flesh in its wake, making your cunt squeeze around nothing - although that was soon to change.

“Mmhmm” you whispered, and Bo clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth in disapproval.

“Say it” he warned, his voice laced with a malice that practically had you dripping on the desk.

“I’m gonna be a good girl, I promise” you groaned, your mind fizzing at the anticipation of what was to come, of just how good he would feel.

The words had barely left your mouth as he thrust into you, his fingers clutching harshly around your hip as he filled you.

Whimpering at the stretch, Bo sucked a breath in through his teeth seeing you flounder beneath him, a quiet satisfaction glinting in his blue eyes as he pulled out and began to set a steady pace inside you.

He felt so good, so much better than you’d remembered, so desperately large, straining against your shivering walls, so good it almost hurt, and you knew that he found satisfaction in that - how pain bled into pleasure he could see in the furrow of your brow, hear it in the soft, breathless gasps that left your mouth.

He pulled you further against him, sinking his face into the top of your head, breathing in your scent deep and even, feeling his cock twitching inside you as he did.

This angle had him teasing that spot of pure ruin, thrilling enough to brush up against it but not enough for the full fireworks, your hips strained against the desk, wishing he would angle himself just a hair lower, for the spine tingling finale.

Bo had become a master of edging over the years, what had some men quivering and coming in minutes Bo was able to control, painstakingly, it was a matter of practice, practice, practice.

But you felt sure that he was going to break before you, this time, the sheer frustration and awe on his face as you got off in front of him, so blatantly, so garishly, but he loved a challenge.

Just as you hoped he would, Bo changed tack, his hips angling slightly lower so that the thick head of him slid into that sensitive patch of flesh, again and again and again as he thrust deeper into you.

All hope you had at winning another round by watching him come before you was shattered in moments as each pass over your spot had your back arching, belly tingling and cunt throbbing around him. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Anything, but easy.

His thick fingers came up to grasp around your neck, pressing into the sensitive spots either side of your windpipe. Oh, he knew what he was doing.

As the breath was withheld sweetly from your lungs you saw the satisfaction bloom over Bo’s face, he knew he was going to win, there was no doubt about it in your mind, now.

Ruinous thrusts again and again slammed into your precious spot, you felt the coil tightening, the need rising and his thick cock pulsating against your most coveted pleasure zone.

You felt your journey nearing its end, the ascension to orgasm was starting and you weren’t sure if there was anything you could do to stop it.

“I’m gonna come” you wheezed around his slowly contracting fist, eye contact wavering for the first time today, as swirls of heated desire threatened to consume you.

Much to your chagrin, Bo’s fingers slackened on your throat, and his relentless pace slowed.

“Beg for it” he grunted. Still playing games, your mouth widened, part in shock, part in embarrassment, he was gonna make you beg him.

Your mind pushed back, eager to not let him get what he wanted, but your body, aching for harder thrusts and more pressure around your throat came out the winner, your cunt singing for just that little bit more that would push you over the edge.

“P-please” you whimpered, hoping it would be enough.

Bo slowed his pace even more, his fingers loosely wrapped around your neck, barely even squeezing, slowly, lazily thrusting into you, not enough, not enough.

His eyebrows raised, he grit his teeth in a strained smile, and shook his head no.

You should have known better than to give him a one word answer.

“P-please Bo, I need to come, I love the way you fuck me, I’m-I’m just so close” you elaborated, thinking flattery would get what you wanted.

He trailed the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, and thankfully picked up the pace inside you, and his fingers began a tortuous pressure.

“Better, more” he replied, stifling his grunts.

“Bo please, you make me feel so good, please make me come I’m so sorry about before I’m just so…”

An apology did it, for your transgression before, that’s what he needed. His eyes formed a dark cloud of desire as he responded to your whiny pleas.

His hips snapped into you and began a relentless hammering at your insides, pressing into that delicate spot, his fingers began squeezing the air from your throat and you felt it coming, building, raucously, about to hit you like a freight train.

Strangled moans poured out of your mouth, and you barely felt the tears welling in your eyes as you climbed your peak, dripping down your face as soft blubs of carnal pleasure joined the moans, a symphony of delights.

This was better than any of your lonely solo adventures in the hotel rooms, the raw dogged look on Bo’s face as he struggled to contain himself spilled you over the edge as your core pulsated wildly around him and your throat sucked in as much air as it could get, the sweet combination culminating in an orgasm so powerful you near enough blacked out, right there, propped up on the desk.

He was still ploughing into you, your orgasm ebbing and flowing, sure that if another one were to come along you’d simply cease to exist.

Involuntary tears still streaming down your cheeks, you felt Bo’s hand clasping tighter around your windpipe, you could see in his blue eyes the strain and raw animalistic need in his eyes, feel it in the tension stringing his body up, felt it coming through you.

His body snapped, the coil wound so tight it sprang free, stifled groans and whimpers left Bo’s mouth to make their home in the hollow of your neck, his stubble still scratching sweetly at your skin - a welcome discomfort.

His fingers released your throat and cradled your chin delicately, so delicately, a stark contrast to the minutes before.

You tried to ignore the feeling of your combined fluids dripping out of you and onto the desk, as Bo’s tenderness returned, his eyes soft and loving. He kissed along your maligned neck and jawline, before planting a sweet lingering kiss on your lips and whispering “I missed you”

You giggled, which made him wince, still sheathed inside of you.

“I missed you more” you countered, removing one of your hands from the position on the desk and cupping his gorgeous jaw, not so sure that you would win this round.

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 4

Double feature tonight! Here's chapter 4 as well. Last night I was inspired and I did managed to write a few chapters.

As usual... some Gaelic for you:

A bheil Gàidhlig agad - Do you speak Gaelic? mo charaid - my friend

Some of Elias' words seem funny, but he speaks Scots as well. And he is so damn sexy while doing it.

All the locations I mentioned they are real. Rowan's bookstore it's the only fictional place.

Happy reading!

------

Aelin woke up quite late the next morning. After her fight with Rowan she had spent the day at the marina and wondered around the town. She had felt empty and could not bring herself to do anything. She finally managed to speak with Lysandra and cried. She cried her heart out and her friend had listened. Like she always did. She had gotten home later in the afternoon and felt exhausted. She spent the rest of the afternoon in the living room reading her books. That brought her joy at least, although dreaded going back to shop to collect the last book. She could not face him. Not yet. But that morning she had woken with a renewed motivation. She had prepared breakfast for herself and admitted she missed Maeve’s apple turnovers but could not risk going back there at the moment. She had to put some distance. So she ate her own breakfast, prepared a couple of sandwiches and got her backpack ready for the next adventure. Today she was driving south toward Harris. She had learned that Lewis and Harris were one big islands but Lewis was the Northern part, full of moors and peat land. Harris, was the Southern part, much rockier and with some stunning beaches and a famous road called the Golden road. Ten minutes later she was in the car and ready to go. She set her sat nav and she left. Over an hour later the sat nav announced one last turn to her final destination: Luskentyre beach. She had a look at some photos online and she could not believe such a gorgeous place existed.

She parked the car and opened the door and got out. No internet image had prepared her for the view in front of her. The beach was massive, the stretch of sand never ending and the sand was so white that it almost hurt the eyes. And the sea. It was the purest green mixed with blue that she had ever seen in her life. She was speechless. For ten solid minutes she leaned against the open door of her car and observed the stretch of paradise in front of her, incapable of doing anything else. Trying to burn in her memories the colours. She would take pictures but doubted they would ever do any justice. Finally she moved and grabbed her backpack, locked the car and walked to the beach. Once she reached the sand she removed the shoes. No way she was going to walk on that sand with her shoes on. The sun was up and the sand was warm at the touch and she let the feeling sooth her. Around her there were a few people walking dogs and couples walking hand in hand. A pang of sadness hit her, and absentmindedly she touched the spot where her wedding band should have been hating herself straight after, for missing Chaol. He made his choice. She had given him his freedom. Tears threatened to appear once again but she fought them back and resumed her walk along the beach. She followed the beach and walked in the water ignoring that it was cold. She walked for hours then she decided to sit and eat her lunch. Her sandwich was gross compared to Maeve’s and in her packed there definitely was no chocolate cake. She sighed. A young man was walking his dog and she noticed the animal coming her way. The man called him a few times, but a moment later the dog was at her feet, his tongue lolling from his mouth and was staring at her sandwich. Aelin laughed and gave him a bit and he ate eagerly. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you. You might never get rid of him.” The man was now in front of her and was scratching the dog ears. “It’s fine I was done eating anyway.” And she gave the rest of her lunch to the dog. She lifted her eyes and stared at the man. He was wearing shorts and a navy blue polo shirt. His hair was black as the night and his eyes a light blue edging on grey. Her breath caught and she felt herself blushing. “You are not a local.” He said as a matter of fact. “That obvious?” “Your accent. Definitely not from here.” His smile left her breathless. He had dimples. On both sides. He was quite cute. “Where do you bide?” Aelin looked at the man puzzled “Bide?” “Aye, where do you stay?” Understanding dawned on her. The word must have a different meaning in Scots “I am staying in Stornoway.” “Bonnie place. I live in Callanish. Ye, ken?” Aelin was stuck again. Was he even speaking English? So far all the other people had done their best to speak English with her. “Sorry, bad habit. I didn’t mean to be rude. I meant if you know Callanish.” The man sat beside her on the sand while the dog was running free on the beach. “Yes I was there a couple of days ago. I went to the standing stones. Such a fascinating place.” “I have one of the smaller circles just outside ma hoose.” He confessed turning his head to her “There are actually few more different sites scattered around the area. The main one at the visit centre is Callanish I.” He explained, then he extended his hand “I am Elias by the way. I have been yapping non stop and forgot to introduce myself.” “Aelin,” she said taking his hand. “Aelin…” her name on his tongue sounded perfection “In Gaelic means bright or shining one.” “So, are you a tourist? Visiting friends? Family? Boyfriend?” Aelin giggled “Status uncertain at the moment.” She said, then looked at Elias and explained a bit further “Tourist at the moment, but things might change.” “So, where are ye fae?” She guessed his question and she hoped she got it right “London.” She replied. “Been there for work a few times. I am an engineer and I have been down there for a few conventions.” Aelin was too busy listening at his sexy accent to pay attention to what he was saying and she felt embarrassed when she had to ask to repeat his answer. “Nae worries. I said I am an engineer and I was in London a few times for work.” “Cool what type?” The guy was fascinating and seemed much more willing to chat that a certain grumpy one back in town. “Environmental. I am working with Calmac at the moment. That’s the company that runs the ferry you used to get here if you travelled by sea.” He explained while the dog came back and licked his fingers quite happily. “I am a doctor. I was…. Still am… it’s complicated.” She cut short and noticed the confusion in his face. “Long boring story.” “What type?” “Cardio thoracic surgeon.” He whistled “bad ass woman. Love it.” His grin reached his eyes and she felt heat spread inside her. Definitely more than cute. And those dimples… She was having a good time but she had to keep going, she still had a few things to do. “I am enjoying the conversation but I still have quite a lot to cover.” She stood and turned to him. The main smiled “Of course. Care for some suggestions?” Aelin nodded. “If you are driving south, right after Borve there is another lovely beach. Stop there as well. Not as famous as Luskentyre but amazing as well. Then continue all the way down to Rodel. It’s the village at the end of the road. There is a lovely church called St. Clements. Worth visiting. Once you are past Rodel make your way back via the Golden road. It’s a very narrow road but it’s a pleasure to drive if you want an Hebridean adventure. Once you are almost at the top before Tarbert, make sure you stop in Drinisiader. There is a fascinating wee museum about Harris Tweed. But just hide your purse. They have some amazing stuff and you might want to buy the entire shop. Then you are in Tarbert and from there it’s an easy drive back to Stornoway.” “Tapadh Leat.” She said and Elias gave her a huge grin in response. “A bheil Gàidhlig agad?” He asked and she realised she had to stop trying to use Gaelic. “I just know thank you and good morning.” She explained almost embarrassed. “That’s okay, lass. I am not a native speaker either. I learnt it later on in life. My parents don’t actively speak it, but my gran did. It was the only way I had to communicate with her. My parents were parts of the generation that grew being taught that speaking Gaelic was not proper, so they never did. My mum understands it because of course her mother was a speaker. But she used her dad to translate. It’s a very long complicated story.” He stopped and looked at her. “Looks like we both have a complicated story to tell each other.” Aelin’s stomach fluttered in excitement. He grabbed his wallet and removed a business card from it. “Sorry for being so direct, but you seem quite an interesting person. Call me or message me if you need a guide.” He held the card to her and Aelin debated for a moment whether to take it or not. Lysandra had told her to go to Scotland, enjoy herself and get a Scottish man in the process and forget her ex husband. She took the card “I’ll call you.” “Do it, mo charaid.” She smiled warmly, grabbed her backpack “It was nice meeting you, Elias.”

She was driving along the Golden road and she had to admit that the road was a real adventure. Large enough for a small car to pass, she had to constantly focus on the road to avoid ending in a ditch or in a loch beside the road. But no matter the stress, she was loving it. Until the sheep arrived. One moment she was alone on the road. The next moment she was surrounded by sheep. A massive flock stretched for some length along the road. She got off the car, she took a picture and sent it to Lysandra with the caption traffic jam in the Hebrides. A moment later the phone rang. “Are you kidding me?” “No Lys, I swear I am surrounded by sheep. They are everywhere and I can’t go anywhere. Guess someone will come and collect them soon.” She heard Lysandra laugh “Sounds like you are having a great time.” “I am.” she confessed not entirely convinced. The memory of the fight with Rowan still stung and she was wracking her brain to find a way to fix things with him. She was… intrigued by him. He was brooding, infuriating and handsome at the same time. Plus he was the owner of a bookstore which was not bad. She wanted to be his friend but it looked like he was not interested. He had made that abundantly clear. Nothing I want to give you. Tears threatened to appear once again but she fought, not willing to let sadness spoil such a lovely day. So she had decided to put some distance. She would go to get her book when it arrived and then limit her visits to his shop, for as much as it pained her. He didn’t want to have anything to do with her. Well, she was granting him his wish. “How is going with Aedion?” She changed the subject. “Well, we have only been on a date but he’s great.” “Already planning your wedding?” Aelin joked and Lysandra laughed in reply. “Nah, just imagining having sex with him for now.” “Eew. I didn’t need to know that” “Seriously… the man has amazing hands and I spent the evening thinking what he can do with them. And if all the other parts are just as big as the rest of the body…” “Eewww. Ewwww and eeeeew.” “Since when you are such a prude?” Aelin laughed she wasn’t but she had no interest in listening her best friend talk about her boyfriend’s body parts. “Get a move on finding a man of your own and then you can fantasise about his body parts.” For a brief moment Aelin’s mind thought about Rowan’s hands and… No, stop. She could not go there. That was dangerous territory. “We’ll see.” Was all that she added. “I need you to come back to me happy.” “What if…” she paused for a second “what if I am not coming back?” “What do you mean?” In the distance Aelin noticed a tractor and the sheep began moving again. “Sheep are moving. Gotta go back home.” “Ok. Keep me posted.” She say bye to Lys and she was positive she felt a note of sadness in her friend’s voice.

The sheep finally moved and she spent the journey home mulling over what she had said to Lys. She could not see herself going back to London. Something had broken inside her. Maybe it was her that was broken. With her skills and experience she could easily find another job in another hospital. So why the rejection from one place hurt so much? And Chaol… London was a very big place, the chances of her bumping into him on the streets were minimal. However, they had loads of friends in common. She would have to give up her friends to avoid him. Give up her gym, her favourite bookstore and cafe, because he was a regular in those places too. She would have to give up her life to avoid him and the pain that seeing again would bring. She had felt relieved after the divorce. She still had no regrets. But forgetting almost a decade together was proving more difficult than she expected. She pushed on the breaks quite hard, forced the door open and run to the field near the road. And then she collapsed on her knees and screamed, letting out all the frustration festering in her. Her hands began shaking and she felt the symptoms of a panic attack starting to manifest. Breathing was getting harder. So Aelin stayed in the filed, and cried and shook. Until she had no more tears left in her.

[insomniamamma]

Greenhorn: young!Ezra x F!reader

A/N: This was inspired by @opheliaelysia and our conversation about how Ez wouldn't be able to resist squishing an aurelac pod, but it ended up turning into something more. ALSO, though reader and OCs refer to Ezra as "the kid" I am picturing an early 20s Ezra. None of these people are minors.

Warnings: Language. Canon typical violence. Death. Slight gore. Angst. Hurt/comfort. A lil bit of fluff. Implied may-december romance. No beta.

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This is a bad idea, you think, as your drop-ship hits atmo, small squarish windows limned in fire, deep vibration that thrums up through your spine, the ship trying not to tear itself apart, and the kid is still talking. No one can hear him above the vibrations and the scream of superheated molecules shredding themselves apart against the heat shield. Del sings out

"We're at max pressure--" "Copy--" "There was this one time--" "No one gives a fuck, Greenhorn---" "All of you shut the fuck up--" "We're through," says Del, "Drogue deploy in 15--' 'There was a whole fuckin nest of em--" "Oi! Shut it!" "3-2-1, deploying drogues." Del punches the button at his right hand and the drogue 'chutes fire out and the drop-ship does a sick lurch, its pace slowing from suicidal to absurdly dangerous. You've got the ability to soft-land, but so long as Del lines it up right you won't have to, the bog should cradle you. Fuel saved on the way down makes the lift safer. "Deploying mains," you say, and flip the toggle, a loud thump and another jolt as the main chutes deploy, sprouting out from the top of your lander, like the days of Apollo on Old Terra. And still the fucking kid is yapping. In writing the kid seemed half-decent, a big, raw boned boy with a rakish, dimpled smile. Had his own suit and kit and filters. Was polite enough when you asked questions of him, all yes Ma'am and no Ma'am, and three bags full Ma'am. Never would have considered his green ass if Marko hadn't bailed, or, more precisely, if Marko hadn't gotten himself in trouble with the locals and run with his  tail between his legs, well, so now you had the kid, who could not for the life of him seem to shut up for two seconds. At first you thought it was just nerves, but he's been yammering away since you requested release. An uninterrupted, stream of consciousness narration. You are wondering if he is, indeed, brain damaged somehow.

"The thing about channel rats--" "For the love of Kevva no one gives a sweet jewel encrusted crap--" "Ezra! For the love of all that's holy, if you do not shut up I will shoot you in the face," you snap. "Clear?" He gives you a little wounded look. "Clear," says Ezra. And, for a brief, miraculous moment, there is silence. The drop ship lands, lurches in the boggy ground and is still. "How we lookin, Del?" "Nav dropped us right on the button," says Del, "We look great." The tight quarters fill with the sound of bodies unstrapping from the crash-couches. "Alright people. Let's suit up. Sooner we get our pull, sooner we get back up to connection orbit." You walk through the Green in loose formation. Del put you down not 3 clicks from the dig site, but the Green is tricksy and, lately, full of dangerous people. Del and Big Pete have rails. You and the kid have your throwers strapped to your hips. Del takes point, you and Big Pete hang back a hair. The kid is supposed to be bringing up the rear, but a look over your shoulder shows him entirely transfixed. This is probably his first time off whatever backwater sprung him, all shiny and new and dropped into the Bakhroma Green, his big brown eyes all agog, trying to look everywhere at once. And you feel this keenly, a spike in your chest that recalls your first time dirtside, the great, broad blue arc of the sky was enough to fuck you up, after only knowing smoothly curving station walls and blunted angles. You recall your wonder, setting foot on this lush and deadly ground, never had you seen so much life, never seen life that wasn't controlled and carefully cultivated. The Green is a truly wild place that obeys no rules but its own. "Is it all like this?" he asks, "So verdantly forested?" "Yep," says Del, "Once in a while you get a soft-spot like we landed in, but most of it's trees and roots." You slog along. The site is close, but it's already warm. And by the time you get there, the kid is mostly silent and that is truly a blessing, likely the effect of slowly poaching in his suit, not accustomed to the heat like you and the rest of the crew. "Should be getting close," says Del, brow furrowed, peering at a battered topographical map, a red x inside a red circle. You stop a beat and peer through the patterns of shadow and trees, the haze of winkling purple dust. "There," you say, hand reaching out to point without even thinking about it, a patch of dark, slightly sunken earth, devoid of brush. Plants don't like to grow over aurelac nests. You don't know why and it doesn't matter. "Right. We set up here. Trade me the rails, Del, you get to play teacher. Listen up, Ezra, Del is one of the best harvester's you'll meet. You listen to him, clear? You do what he says and nothing else." "Clear," says Ezra, grinning all big through his fishbowl helm. "Um...boss?" Says Big Pete, "Why we bothering with this boy?" "What if Marko can't get himself out of the shit this time, huh? We'll need another set of hands...we'll--" "PUT THAT DOWN!" Del's voice squeals loud and offended over the comms, "The fuck are you doin?" And before you can even think, you and Big Pete are running for the dig and would you look at that, there's the kid, gloves pulled out of their ring-seals and piled on the mossy ground beside him. He's got an aurelac node husk cupped in his bare hands, not even safely cut yet, it's umbilicus disappearing into the black dirt. "EZRA! WERE YOU BORN THIS STUPID OR DID IT TAKE YEARS OF RIGOROUS PRACTICE?" And, look at him, the kid smirks at you through his fishbowl helmet. "Sorry, Ma'am, " he says, "It seemed uncannily squishy. I just had to find out for myself--" You close the distance between you and grab his wrist, hard enough so that his idiot smile fades and you actually see some fear prick in those big brown eyes. Fear is good in the Green. Fear is your friend. Unlikely this kid has ever had cause to be afraid, but, by Kevva, you're going to give him some cause. You pull your knife from your belt and press the business end into Ezra's palm, right between the heart and head lines, just enough to dimple but not enough to break skin. He tries to jerk away, but you know how you hold him, grind those wrist bones together like marbles in a sock. "Ezra," your voice is soft, yelling does no good, this kid's probably been yelled at for most of his formative years, and it's obviously made no impression. "You see all this purple shit floating through the air? Pretty, isn't? Looks like fairy dust--" "Ma'am--" he tries to pull free. "Shut it, fool," you push the knife tip just a hair harder, feel him flinch, flinching is good, might save his idiot hide someday. "I break your skin, I give your the faintest kitten scratch of a wound and the spores will get in there and fest black. These spores will eat you from the bones out. You rot from the inside, clear?" "Clear." You let go and he scrabbles his gloves back on. "Fuckin hell," says Del. Big Pete just shakes his head.

Thank Kevva for small favors, the kid is a quick study. Those big hands are surprisingly clever, and even Del is impressed by his ability. The idea licks around your mind that maybe it's time to cut Marko loose for good, Ezra has plenty of raw talent even if he can't shut up. Your time in the Green is almost done, a half cycle to button up the dig, break camp and lift. You've given Del back the rail-gun, traded for harvesting. The thrill of splitting open those strange membranes has never gown old for you, the finicky work of dissecting the carom blisters away from the inner sac, the fizz of the fazer and then your prize revealed, in this moment your mind is fully on the pull, you don't notice anything off until you feel something thump into the back of your helmet, and hear the whine of a primed thrower. A voice crackles ever the common channel. "Drop your weapons boys, or this stupid cow gets one right through the brain pan." Big Pete already has his hands in the air, Petey always was a softy, Del still has his rails, looking at your face for a sign and you shake your head. Take the shot, you think, you try to think it AT him, but you see the rail-gun slide out of his hands. God Damnit.  You would have expected them to act selfishly. You always expected you'd die out here and the business end of some thrower. And, of course, the kid is nowhere to be seen. Probably wandered behind a tree to take a leak or already caught a blast to the skull. "Right then," Your assailant says, he's got your air-hose doubled over in his free hand, "You open up that case so I can--" The thrower discharges and you pitch forward, there is no pain, just pressure,  and suddenly you can breathe easier. You heave against the dead weight on your back, scrabble back down into the slick of dead leaves and needles and then the pressure is gone and you sit up. The dying man crawfishes over the loam, peering out of his helm with wide eyes and blood spattered lips, eyes that plead until they are obliterated. Ezra stands with his thrower smoking, his face pulled up into a rictus of fear and rage. "Del. Petey. Circle back. Comm channel zero. Anything flinches you take it out. Clear?" Big Pete :"Clear" Del: "Clear" "Ezra. Get his filter," "huh?" "Did I stutter? You get his filter and any other kit that's any good." You stand, but your legs want to betray you. You take a couple shambling steps and plant yourself on a fallen tree, watching the kid strip the corpse, peels the filters and o rings and hose like he's done it a million times. Your breath comes hard and ragged. Nausea grips you. All your time in the Green and you never get over that feeling of almost dying, the taste of it on your tongue like hot smoke, and here's the kid gripping your shoulder, helping you up. "We going back to camp?" "Yeah," you say, "Thrower out. There might be more of them."                                                                                                                                                                                         "I didn't want to--" You know where this is going. You remember hearing the same arguments spill out of yourself the first time you had to use a thrower, "I mean, he woulda--" You stop so you can look at him through the foggy business of his helmet. "You did right." You say, "he meant to take our whole pull." Ezra nods, but his eyes are still white-rimmed and shocked. You reach for him and give his arm a little shake. "Let's go. Eyes peeled, clear?" "Clear."

You keep expecting that shaky, nauseated feeling to dissipate on the walk back to camp but it does not. The suit seems suffocating, and you practically bolt for the tent, in and fumbling with your suit before Ezra can even turn on the scrubbers. You reach to doff your helmet, something you've done daily for years, but your hands shake and you fumble the catches, two attempts and you feel like you're drowning in your own exhalations, you need this fishbowl off your head right now, but your hands won't stop shaking. "Here," Ezra pushes your hands away and does the catches himself, lifting the helmet away from your face. His own fishbowl's gone, his sweaty hair sticking up in crazy quills, that little blond streak screaming up from his scalp like an exclamation point, and before you can properly process what's happening, Ezra pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders. Your hands, which, by all means, should be shoving him the fuck off of you, turn traitor and creep around his middle. You're still shaking, but you feel him shaking too, the two of you vibrating with spent adrenaline like plucked guitar strings. His warm palm grips the back of your neck and nestles your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. You let out a watery breath. "Fuck. I'm getting to old for this shit." Ezra makes a dismissive sound. His fingers dig at your nape, pressing into the tight, cabled muscles there. You let yourself lean against him, lean into his warmth. You can't remember a time you've been this close to someone without expecting a backstab. Ezra murmurs. It's okay, we're safe, I've got you, we're safe, reassuring himself as much as you. "Ezra?" "Yes, Ma'am?" "Don't make this your life," You lift your head and look up at him, his brows are furrowed. "I'm afraid I don't understand."  You poke his belly. "Get yourself maybe three solid pulls and then you get the fuck out of here," you say, peering into those big, dark eyes, "Get out and don't come back." "Ma'am?" "The Green changes people," you say, "And generally not for the better." He gives you a hard squeeze that you return and then he releases you, but only partially, one arm still slung over your shoulder. "You know," he says, "I have among my personal effects a bottle of Kanvian fire-water. Once we lift we could find a quiet place on yon freighter and share it." "Kanvian, eh?" You turn up your arm to look at your chronometer. "We boost in, what, a third of a cycle? Manage not to do anything catastrophically stupid between now and then and I'll consider it." His lips pull into a smirk, his dark eyes glittering, crinkling at the corners. He raises his hand to his head in a mock salute. "Yes, Ma'am." "Del and Big Pete should be done with their sweep soon. Start system checks on the ship, then help break camp." "Yes, Ma'am." He scoops up his discarded helmet under one arm and heads for the entrance. "Oh, and, Ezra?" "Yeah?" "You say anything about..." You gesture vaguely, "Whatever this was that just happened--" "Not to worry, fair maiden," he says, grinning, "No word of our tryst shall pass my lips, because I know that the second I let things slip you will undoubtedly shoot me in the face." "The fuck outta here, smooth talker," you laugh. Ezra jams the fishbowl back on his head and steps out into the sticky heat of The Green, zipping the tent behind him. He's a fool, you think as you set about grading and stowing the day's pull, he's a fool and likely to get himself killed. You just hope you're not the one who has to see it.

[thetemporalduo]

A horde of golden retriever pups rush toward Miles's feet. The all begin jumping on her and happily yapping for her attention.

Miles at first is a bit shocked, but the hoard of pups bring a small smile on her face."Thanks for the pups Normal Nav... They help in times like this..."