#that line is about bob but it's also Very Much Not About Bob

[crossdressingdeath]

#i mean tbf as hazel says herself she and nico represent different parts of pluto/hades#her riches and him death so the whole people don't like him cos of teh death thing still sort of holds up#also while percy isn't great ot nico im not gonna blame him for his stories#nico does nearly get percy killed quite a few times albeit without any malicious intent behind it really#liek nico is this kid that percy is highkey forced to help multiple times at cost to him and he's done with it#which is a dick move im not arguing that#but like he's also what 17 id be a shit too#yes nico is even younger but ngl id chat shit about a 14 yr old at 17 if they did what nico did to me lol#even though it would be highly unfair to said 14yr old#percy sticks his neck out for nico gets fucked over for it at least twice and then goes 'fuck it im done'#so like yeah as op says good person terrible friend#like the problem is that percy means more to nico than nico means to percy#which isn't a great foundation for a relationship and espeically not when there's so much other shit going on in the background#also feel like nico probably gives percy complicated feelings about bianca that he wants to avoid#which is selfish becuase nico probably has them about percy too#but it makes sense#not trying to start something just thinking cos it's interesting (tags via @pbaintthetb)

Actually the most interesting thing for me about how Hazel is perceived vs how Nico is perceived is that Hazel is if anything more of a child of the Underworld than Nico is, what with how she's actually a dead soul returned to the world of the living and also her abilities are actively cursed, but it's Nico who's perceived as the creepy child of the Underworld because of death powers and also his general aesthetic. Fascinating thing about judging books by their covers in there, I love it.

Also... I wouldn't say Nico "nearly get[s] Percy killed quite a few times"? The only example I can really think of where it was actually Nico's doing is the thing with Hades's trick. I guess you could count the shenanigans in the Labyrinth, but a) Percy would've needed to go down there anyway since Luke intended to use it as an invasion route and b) it was Bianca pushing Percy to protect Nico; at that point Nico mostly just wanted him to go away. Same with saying Percy sticks his neck out for Nico; he covers up him being the son of Hades and gets burned by trusting him one time, but that's about it. Nico actually risks himself for Percy a lot more than Percy risks himself for Nico. Hell, Nico consistently does far more good for Percy than bad; even if we say that the thing with Hades was entirely Nico's doing (which it wasn't), he's made up for it half a dozen times over! And it's the same again with saying Percy is "forced" to help Nico "multiple times"; he's... not. He covers for Nico of his own volition, he runs into Nico in the Labyrinth largely by coincidence since they didn't really have a lot of control over where they were going (and they were coincidentally after the same person), Nico is the one helping Percy in TLO... I guess you could say he's being forced to save Nico in MoA because of the prophecy, but honestly if Percy was the type of person who'd leave someone to slowly suffocate to death—especially someone who only got captured because he put himself in danger for the sake of the quest—unless there was a prophecy saying that person was important, that would say some pretty bad things about Percy!

Re the stories, I can understand Percy grumbling about that whole Hades incident, that's fair. My issues with it here are twofold. First, the timing: as I said, because of how the timing works out with the Seven the only opportunity Percy would've had to tell stories about Nico was while they were flying to Rome to rescue him. In other words Percy was telling the Seven about that time Nico "lured him into a trap"... while they were prepping to put themselves in serious danger to rescue him from giants. I'm just saying, maybe given the circumstances, and seeing as some of the group already had concerns about Nico's loyalties, that story could've waited until after he was rescued! Instead of the one time Nico accidentally lured him into a trap Percy could've told them about how as far as the books say Nico's first use of his demigod abilities was saving Percy from skeleton warriors despite having just learned that Percy broke his promise to protect Bianca, or how Nico charged back into the Labyrinth without hesitation and went up against a judge of the Underworld because the Labyrinth quest group was in danger, or how he half-killed himself summoning an undead army to defend Camp Half-Blood during the battle of the Labyrinth and was the one to actually bring the thing down, or how he was the one who did most of the legwork in figuring out how to get the mark of Achilles, or how after the trap was sprung Nico's immediate response was to risk Hades's fury by freeing Percy from it, or how despite having pissed off Hades by interfering in the trap Nico willingly stayed in the Underworld to convince his father to join the battle even though Hades was already furious with him (and seeing as Percy did kind of try to strangle him to death on sight when he showed up in the cell Nico would be well within his rights to say "No, I got you the mark of Achilles like I promised and fixed my mistake by saving you from my father, I'm not sticking my neck out for you again when you literally tried to kill me less than an hour ago and Dad's already pissed at me" when Percy told him to convince Hades to fight)... I'm just saying, there were stories Percy could've focused on other than that one incident where Nico accidentally led Percy into a trap, and those stories would've done a much better job of reassuring the Seven that Nico was very much on their side. Percy please tell them any story other than that one.

And my second issue is that... "Nico lured Percy into a trap" is a really inaccurate description of what happened, and honestly can only be called true in the loosest sense. Hades told Nico he just wanted to talk to Percy and then would tell Nico about his mother and let Percy continue on his trip to the Styx. As far as Nico knew there was no risk to Percy, just a minor delay. Saying Nico lured Percy into a trap comes with an implication that Nico knew it was a trap, and he had no idea. And the focus is on how Nico brought Percy to Hades to get information on his mother, but... let's be real, here. They were in Hades's domain. He absolutely knew they were there; he would've been able to send the Furies to grab them whether Nico cooperated with him or not. If Hades had told Nico the truth and he really did intend to let Percy go to the Styx after a quick chat it would've been considerably safer for Percy to have that chat and continue on with Hades's permission! But instead of explaining that Percy just seems to have told this group of demigods, some of whom already doubt Nico's loyalties, that Nico lured him into a trap with no mention of how all Nico really did was... trust his father. As if Percy wouldn't have done exactly the same thing if he was bringing someone to Poseidon's palace for whatever reason and Poseidon said "Hey, bring them to me for a quick talk first since you're bringing them to my house and all"!

But yeah, at the end of the day Percy and Nico's relationship is just... incredibly one-sided. Nico does so much for Percy's sake and gets basically nothing in return beyond maybe the occasional "Thank you", and it is a whole thing. And I am glad that based on that one TSatS excerpt talking about how Bob and Nico bonded over how their "friend" Percy seemed to completely forget they existed when he didn't need something from them it's going to go into that at least a bit, because it's definitely a thing that needs to be worked on. Helps that while he's in Tartarus Percy does at least acknowledge that he really fucked up with Nico, but so far that detail hasn't gone anywhere. Hopefully it will in TSatS.

Not to rub my angsty little hands over more media, but does anyone else ever think about how Nico likely figured the main reason he wasn't welcome anywhere was just that he's a child of the Underworld, only for HoO to come around and everyone on the Argo II to adore Hazel but still think Nico's creepy and weird (until Jason befriends him at least)? Like, it's good he has a sister again and Hazel is the best, but it can't have helped with Nico's self-worth issues to learn that apparently the issue is not being a child of the Underworld and it's just him that no one likes.

[mariasont]

Please, Don't Prove 'Em Right - A.H

a/n: my girl sabrina can do no wrong and i have been listening to this song on repeat since it came out so i just absolutely needed to write a fic about it

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events

warnings: angst (sorry in advance), aaron is like not a great husband, reader is also an imperfect character, reader is a girl boss though

wc: 1.2k

You were in your best dress. More expensive than you'd ever think about buying for yourself, but it had been a gift from Aaron. You had fought him on it, scolding him for spending so much on a dress you were sure to only wear once. But he had insisted, telling you that this opportunity was once in a lifetime and that it would be a sin for it to not be celebrated with a dress that made you shine like a ruby.

He was right, partly, you were shining--glowing, sparkling, glittering--as you moved through the library. It was beautiful, to say the least--all opulence and history that was almost too much to absorb. The marble floors almost seemed to amplify the conversations around you, the clinking of glasses, the swish of overpriced gowns and tuxedos.

Your eyes settled on the tiered desks fitted with bronze reading lamps, now repurposed as a station for hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The circular arrangement of desks, once centered around knowledge, now facilitated hushed gossip and the discreet laughter of society's finest.

You could almost hear what they were thinking: there she is again without her husband, that poor thing always by herself, and your personal favorite—does he even exist?

You wanted to be angry, to scold their prying eyes, for putting their noses into something that had nothing to do with them whatsoever. But could you really blame them? Every event you attended you told the same story--my husband is a busy man with an important job--a line you had grown tired of repeating. 

And that was all true. He devoted most of his time to saving lives--how could you find fault in that? How could you complain to having a husband whose very essence was self-sacrifice and heroism?

This evening was set to be an exception; he was in New York for a case, and the Pulitzer Prize ceremony was not something he would miss. He had given you his word.

You understood his passion for his job, completely, because you held that same passion for your own. You dedicated years of your life to your journalism, investigating corruption at its highest levels. This is exactly how you ended up here tonight, nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for that very work. A Pulitzer Prize.

The term once seemed like a fantastical concept to you, a lofty accolade reserved for the likes of JFK, Bob Dylan, Robert Frost--icons, not someone as ordinary as you. Yet, against all odds, you find yourself among the select few, a nominee for an honor that has only been won by 1,512 individuals since 1917, a fact Spencer had supplied you with.

Someone was speaking to you, saying your name. Almost without thinking, your hand found a flute of champagne, taking a generous sip before turning to face them.

"You look stunning, and a well-deserved congratulations are in order. Everyone back at the office is cheering for you." It was your boss, her stilettos adding inches to her already imposing frame.

The flattery didn't quite mask her usual coldness, it was all too artificial. She wasn't your biggest fan, and she had made that clear from your first day. Still, you mustered a smile and thanked her anyway, taking another sip of champagne, hoping to drown away her nauseating voice.

"It's too bad your husband couldn't be here," she began, and you had to resist the urge to rip out her extensions. "This is an incredible accomplishment, but he's quite the busy man, as you say."

"Yes, he is busy, but he'll be here tonight," you replied, flashing her your best smile as you smoothed the red fabric that suddenly felt too tight. "He's actually here in New York on a case."

"Oh, how great. I can't wait to put a face to the name." You could tell by the look she shot her own husband that she didn't believe a word from your mouth. "Anyway, I have to go speak with an academy representative, but I'll see you and your husband at the ceremony?"

You responded with a nod, not dignifying her with words as she left, her giggles a bitter sound. You hated her. And you were ready to make her eat her words when your husband, who looked absolutely incredibly in a suit, showed up.

But then it was dinner, and you found yourself alone, surrounded by a table of important people whose names you couldn't remember. The seat beside you was empty and suddenly that omnipotent, cloud-nine feeling you had vanished with the time that passed.

The text you sent piled up, feeling a little juvenile, like you were back in high school again getting stood up at prom.

Let me know when you're close!

Is everything going okay?

Call me if you can.

An onslaught of anxious thoughts skyrocketed around your mind as you mechanically chewed the fancy food that only seemed to upset your stomach further. What if something happened? Was he okay? Did the case go wrong? Did he get in a car accident on the way here?

You were a bundle of nerves, gnawing on the inside of your mouth as your heel tapped up and down against the floor. But this wasn't borne from concern for his well-being; deep down, you were certain he was fine. The truth was simpler and sharper: he wasn't coming.

You should have been prepared, should have braced for this, but you were convinced that this time, this occasion would be an exception.

You name was being called, but this time not by someone wanting to extract prying information or stir speculation, no, this time it was carried across the crowed, wrapped in the microphone's static hum.

Your head snapped up, fingers ceasing their fidgeting as you struggled to mask the shock and avoid the gaping, breathless look of a fish out of water.

You had won.

People were clapped, but it seemed far away as you made your way to the stage, hands coming from all directions to offer pats on the back and handshakes of congratulations.

You had won.

Your feet were carrying you up a small set of stairs. You were trying to remember how to walk--left, right, heel, toe. There was a bright light on you now, prompting a slight squint and you worked to keep a smile on your face as you accepted the award.

You had to be dreaming. Had to be. There was no other explanation.

You were on display now, under the intense stage lights. Your body was on autopilot, stepping behind the podium, words flowing out of your mouth--a speech you had rehearsed over and over again in the slim chance that you would win. And here you are.

But the more you spoke the more you seemed to deviate from the script.

You paused, voice catching as you tried your best not to let the tears fall--your makeup was too pristine for smears.

"But tonight, as I accept this honor, I am reminded that while we may seek comfort in the presence of others, our truest strength comes from within." Your eyes dart around the audience, clinging to the slim chance he's there, that he showed up. "It comes from knowing that when we step into the moment, we step in with conviction, with passion, and sometimes, with a singularity that says we are enough."

The final words of your speech hang in the air, a brittle hope that disappears as quickly as it surfaced. He proved them right, and no amount of applause can drown out the sound of your heart breaking just a little.

part 2

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179

[undying-love]

Paul's grief over time: A Compilation

“During the session [in 1981] Paul fell into a lugubrious mood. He said, ‘I’ve just realized that John is gone. John’s gone. He’s dead and he is not coming back.’ And he looked completely dismayed, like shocked at something that had just hit him. ‘Well, it’s been a few weeks now.’ He said, ‘I know, Eric, but I’ve just realized." (Eric Stewart)

“It’s still weird even to say, ‘before he died’. I still can’t come to terms with that. I still don’t believe it. It’s like, you know, those dreams you have, where he’s alive; then you wake up and… 'Oh’.” (Paul, 1986)

"Occasionally, it wells up. Y'know, and I'm at home on the weekend suddenly and I start thinking about him or talking to the kids about him and I can't handle it." (Paul, 1987)

"Is there a record you like to put on just to hear John’s voice?" I ask Paul the next day. Paul looks startled. He fumbles. “Oh, uh. There’s so much of it. I hear it on the car radio when I’m driving.” No, that’s not what I mean", I persist. "Isn’t there a time when you just wish you could talk to John, when you’d like to hear his voice again?" For some reason, he instead responds to the original question.“Oh sure,” he says and looks a little taken aback. ‘Beautiful Boy". (1990)

"Also not obvious is that McCartney [for the Liverpool Oratorio] has penned a gorgeous black-spiritual-like piece for mezzo-soprano that intones the last words spoken to John Lennon as he lay dying of gunshot wounds in the back of a New York police car -- "Do you know who you are?" McCartney gets a bit choked up at one point when he reveals, "Not a day goes by when I don't think of John.” (1991)

"Delicious boy, delicious broth of a boy. He was a lovely guy, you know. And it gets sadder and sadder to be saying “was”. Nearer to when he died I couldn’t believe I was saying “was”, but now I do believe I’m saying “was”. I’ve resisted it. I’ve tried to pretend he didn’t get killed." (Paul, 1995)

"Paul talked about John a a lot, but the strange thing was that it was in the present tense, “John says this" or "John thinks that. Very weird." (Peter Cox, 2006)

“John Lennon was shot dead in 1980. That totally knocked dad for six. I haven’t really spoken to him a lot about it because it is such a touchy subject." (James McCartney, 2013)

"It's very difficult for me and I, occasionally, will have thoughts and sort of say: "I don't know why I don't just break down crying every day? […] You know, I don't know how I would have dealt with it because I don't think I've dealt with it very well. In a way… I wouldn't be surprised if a psychiatrist would sort of find out that I'm slightly in denial, because it's too much." (Paul, 2020)

"Like any bereavement, the only way out is to remember how good it was with John. Because I can't get over the senseless act. I can't think about it. I'm sure it's some form of denial. But denial is the only way that I can deal with it." (Paul, 2020)

"When I talked to Paul about John and when he missed John most, he couldn't answer me for a long time and his eyes teared up. And I asked him where he thinks about John and when John comes into his mind and he just … he lost it, he completely lost it." (Bob Spitz, 2021)

-------------------------------------------------

The following two are from the gossip website Datalounge, so they may or may not be true. Still interesting though:

"The one time I was ever actually in a room with Paul, zillion people between me and him (and no way I'm gonna bother him, all of us who travel in celeb circles have people we're fans of and all of us inexplicably try to hide it to seem "cooler"), he started talking loudly about himself and John, and how hard it was not to have him there. I remember him saying something along the lines of not a day passing that John's not still in it with him, but it's not like he can pick up a phone and say, "Hey, just needed to hear your voice today," and even when he got craggy responses, he still missed them. He misses it all, and it's bothering to him that he misses him more as time goes on -- it doesn't heal, he just learns new ways to bandage the wound."

“Since everyone is anonymous here, I guess I can give a bit of info I got from a female friend of mine who at one time worked as one of Paul’s assistants. [...] She does not know for certain if John and Paul were involved but she suspects it since to this day whenever John’s name is brought up he acts in her words ‘like a widow’ and he also addresses John in present tense. He would say things like, ‘John thinks that the music should be like this,’ and during his bitter divorce from Heather he was saying, ‘John says that this is getting nasty.’ Kind of creepy." (this one actually seems very intriguing because it sounds very similar to what Peter Cox said, about Paul often talking about John in the present tense, saying "John says.." or "John thinks...")

[gingersxng]

Put It In Your Mouth

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+

Summary: being away from each other wasn’t the easiest for you nor your boyfriend but I guess he takes it a lil extra hard.

Notes: sub!reader, rough dom!Mingi, kissing, groping, pet name (darling), Mingi has a big dick duh, Mingi is horny as fuck!, blowjob, manhandling, dacryphilia, throat fucking, cummmm, unprotected sex (don’t do it), mentions of porn

a/n: writing this while being sick and nauseous was a bit of a challenge but I’ve never written something so fast before. and also a BIG THANKS TO 1K!! I can’t believe how fast this acc has been growing, love you all so much<3 been awhile since I posted a fic so hope you enjoy!

edit: so I saw today when I reread this that it was so strange somehow, I guess it’s the result of me being sick. I’ve changed the title and Mingis line so it actually adds up better omg

Words: 699

your boyfriend was working late in his studio… again. it wasn’t any news to you cause it happened most of the time, you didn’t mind it but it made you miss him more tho.

instead of being half asleep in your bed at home watching boring television you got up, grabbed the car keys and drove to the KQ building. it was almost midnight and the street lights guided your way to the front door.

you reached the third floor where you knew Mingi had his studio and gently knocked on the door. a deep groan came from the other side and you saw how a tall silhouette came closer and closer. when he saw you his eyes lit up immediately, he wasn’t at all expecting to see you. Mingi lowered himself for your 1,60cm frame and gave you a kiss on your lips, you placed your hands on his chest and you felt his hands slide down to grope your ass, something he used to do when he wanted you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist.

“you don’t know how much I’ve missed you darling” Mingi groaned as he placed kisses on your neck down your collarbones. you tossed your head back and responded with a breathy “really?”

Mingi took a seat in his computer chair as you straddled him, he roamed your body as his hooded eyes scanned every curve and valley. he was very quite tonight, more than he usually used to be but that didn’t mean his body language was. as you had your hands on his chest you felt how his heart rate increased and his pupils got dilated, something poked you in your core as well.

“are you this hard already?” you whispered in his ear and moved your hips a little. a low moan escaped his throat and before you could blink he lifted you up from his lap and pushed you down on your knees in front of him under the desk. his sudden action took you by surprise, it wasn’t like Mingi to be this violent with you.

he was quick to unzip his pants and pull out his massive cock, the aching red tip was leaking so much precum and the veins on his shaft looked like they were about to pop. you looked up at him with big eyes and gasped, Mingi grabbed your chin and put some pressure on his grip only for you to whine out in pain.

“put it in your mouth” his husky voice sent chills down your core, he stuck his tongue out raising an eyebrow before pushing your head down on his cock.

his cock head reached far down your throat and you gagged pretty good on it, he held you down for a couple of seconds before releasing you to get some air.

Mingi grabbed a handful of your hair and guided your movements so he got satisfied enough. he kept his eyes on every bob you did on his dick, his moans and groans got lower and he started to still your movements so he could do the work himself.

Mingi fucked your throat and he mocked you when he saw you begin to cry, “is my little one crying for my huge cock? is it that good”

you let out a loud cry and he came just from hearing that, your mouth got filled with loads of his warm cum, it even dropped out on the corners of your mouth. you swallowed all you could and then tried to catch your breath from the harsh actions your boyfriend took out on you.

Mingi tugged some hair behind your ear and you looked up at him, his cock was still out and it was still rock hard, like you hadn’t even touched it. he helped you up and tugged at your skirt and panties, he pulled the panties to the side and dragged two fingers through your folds to feel if you’re wet enough. your boyfriend sunk you down on his dick and slowly stretched you out.

“what’s with you Mingi!?”

“only being able to watch porn for days does things to you I guess..”

[6esiree]

“Imagine reader notices that Alastor’s, Lucifer’s, and Vox’s necks are always covered and one lovely night they decide "nuh uh.” The next morning they aren’t allowed to cover their necks up for certain reasons, teehee.” @psychesetra

I was actually thinking about this last night—about how nice it would be to crawl onto his lap, legs on either side of his waist and your crotch bumping against his as you wrap a singular hand around his neck. To feel his adam’s apple bob underneath your palm with anticipation as you lean in and press your plush lips against his jaw in such a tender manner, his breath audibly hitching.

“Have I ever told you how much I like your neck?” You admit with a murmur, hips experimentally rolling against his. He chuckles at your words as he grasps your waist. “And how much I like that only I can see this part of you?”

Initially, you only intended to appreciate the part of him that he never shows to the world… but as his eyes flutter shut, his brows knit together, and his mouth tightens into a thin line, it slowly turns into something more than that. It doesn’t help that you pull all sorts of sinful noises from his throat—from stifled grunts and groans to the occasional breathy moans and whimpers—that simple appreciation with ghost-like kisses evolves into little nips with your teeth.

“You’ve made that clear, sweetheart,” He eventually rasps, words coming out almost breathless despite his lack of activity. “And I mean very clear.”

But when you feel the unmistakeable evidence of his pleasure poke your thigh as you relinquish his neck, only to grasp onto his hair and tug his head back, you latch onto the flesh you once held within your grasp and suck. He lets out a shameless groan and squeezes your waist, enjoying the sensation of your teeth and tongue assaulting him, leaving bruises that only that ridiculously high collar of his can obscure.

He allows you to mark him up to your heart’s content, not a single ounce of worry present in his blissed out features as you pull back with a smile on your face. You’re proud of the mess you left on his neck, yes, but you’re also secretly anticipating the morning after. As he shoots you his own lopsided grin, he has no idea that you hid away all the shirts you could find with high collars before you asked if you could have your way with him.

[elodieunderglass]

To be fair to Jack Glass, an AI facemorpher app was never going to produce someone with any kind of alternative or queer energy whatsoever. It's just not how they're trained. I mean, that haircut is not a reflection of Elodie + T, that is the haunting spectre of ~60k random white guys whose data they scraped off Facebook to make the model.

Right fine FINE since we feel so strongly about the sheer provocation of poor old guysona Jack Glass let’s HAVE HIM BACK FOR A MOMENT, let’s chew on him SOME MORE, with his PODCASTER FACE APPARENTLY !!!!! Christ!!!!

MmmmmMMM I think , with all the love for humanity in my heart, that no matter how hard we might try to scrungle him, this is just A Good Man. it is A Good Man of a different species to myself. but ecosystems are beautiful and balanced places; full of things that are not my business, natural wonders that don’t need my opinion, and mysteries beyond my power to plumb. WHATEVER, it’s FINE. Am I not the first person to fight for the rights of the Bob? Do I not myself champion that there is no such thing as “looking queer” ? Have I not said before that such beliefs damage our whole community and hurt our people?

Nobly did I stand for the rights of the Bob, but I had not considered that but for a twist of the sliders, I was also capable of being a Bob all along!!

(Also I was kind of doing a bit, since the point of OP’s post was a celebration of trans people who are having a damn good time leaning into their inner Bob, as everyone should.)

However, the lessons that Jack Glass has to teach us are many, and one of them is: if a dark mirror showed you that inside your bi bitch self there was a guy who was, detectably, some sort of straight-looking guy with a DnD podcast and the ability to reverse parallel park as well as opinions on loading the dishwasher: can you be chill? Can you face up to the fact that a different brow line would simply make you appear extremely opinionated about fly fishing? And if not, why? Ultimately I do feel that I can be chill, with room in my heart for my inner Jack, even as I lay facedown on the floor thinking about how i BET he does his own oil changes. and that was the spirit I shared him in. The belief that because there is mundanity in the beautiful queer, there is beauty and indeed queerness in the glorious mundane.

And what came of it? Well, much condolence and sympathy, and many shared stories, and many people saying that while it may be very hard to face up to Jack Glass, what is important is that he looks kind. And that is another beautiful lesson of Jack Glass, which is that no matter who your dark mirror is, they are lovable to someone; whether this is helpful for people transitioning or simply helpful to hear in a psychological way, it is worth saying.

Thank you for this 🤝 and to everyone who, with charity and kindness, told me sincerely that they believed in his latent bi energy 😤 and may his lessons, whatever they are to you, be a blessing to those who need them.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 10 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna knew now. She knew all about Bob's poetry and how he thought about her when she wasn't even with him. Instead of it making her timid, she told him she wanted to go to his bedroom. Instead of taking it slow, he took it all the way.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, smut, oral, 18+

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Having Anna in his house again was an exercise in restraint for Bob. When he thought about tracing her freckles with his gaze, he stopped himself. When he wanted to kiss her neck while she stood in front of him while they built the bookshelf, he made sure he did nothing of the sort. It was time to organize his books now, and he had to keep himself focused. When she started to head upstairs toward the bedrooms, he tried his hardest to block out the idea of guiding her to the left and into his room instead of the spare room on the right.

The sway of her hips in her black leggings was so enticing as she climbed the stairs ahead of him. It was taking too much of his willpower to keep from reaching out to touch her, and that's how he responded poorly when she said, You have to tell me why you like poetry so much."

He barely considered his words before saying, "What's not to like? All of the emotions are there. You're allowed to write about any combination of emotions that you're feeling at any given time. And I think that's pretty cool."

Anna's steps slowed a little. "Write?" she asked, turning to look back at him as he made his way up behind her. "Did you say write?"

Oh. Oh no. Nobody knew he spent his free time tapping away at his keyboard, coming up with ideas and letting his brain run wild. And there was no way he wanted Anna to be the one to find out, especially since he'd taken to writing about her. 

"Uh. I did. Yeah," he admitted, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

But she was way ahead of him. "What's something you've written?"

Bob laughed and recited a random line that was ambiguous enough for his liking. "Just some amateur gibberish like, 'Devotion woven into every breath I take. Love that knows no boundaries, no end.' Nothing amazing."

Anna was nearly to the landing at the top of the stairs when she twisted awkwardly, turning to look back at him with something akin to panic on her face.

"Bob," she croaked, and he rushed toward her as she sat down hard. He reached out gently, trying to figure out if she was hurt.

"Are you okay? Did you twist it?"

"Bob," she gasped, reaching for the front of his undershirt and pulling him closer so he was focused on her pretty face. "You're Sky Writing."

He froze, vaguely terrified by the knowledge that she was calling him by his pen name. But there was also a small part of him that was thrilled that Anna was the one saying it. Somehow it felt right for a second before it felt very, very wrong. Anna knew what he wrote. Anna knew about his romantic desires. Anna knew about his depraved wants.

"Oh, shit," he whispered as her gaze grew even more surprised. 

"It's really you," she moaned softly, licking her lips and tugging him even closer. His knee came down gently on the step as he held onto her ankle, and even though the position had him covering most of her, she must have known she was in charge here. When he nodded, she started to close the distance between their lips as she whispered, "You're incredible."

Bob let his lips slam into hers as she tangled her fingers in his hair. She knew his words, and somehow she was kissing him anyway. In fact, she was wrapping her other ankle his around his waist and pulling him closer. He was certain he'd never kissed anyone on the stairs before. He was certain he'd never had an erection on the stairs before either. 

He was very aware of everything right now. The sound of the rain hitting the roof and the windows. The feel of Anna's fingers tugging on his hair. The vibration of her soft moans as she kissed him. The friction between his sweatpants and her leggings. 

"Anna," he gasped between kisses, but she was back on him immediately. There was no way she couldn't feel him getting hard. His gray boxer briefs could only do so much to conceal how badly he needed her, but every time he tried to ease his hips back away from her, she dug her heel in harder against his lower back.

When she released his lips, her nose glided along his until she was bumping his glasses. Her breath was soft on his face as she said, "Bob, I want you to show me the romance section in your bedroom. Please."

There was no way he could say no to her ever again.

--------------------------

Anna was shocked. Bob was Sky Writing. The poet of her wildest dreams. The man who wrote so beautifully, she could imagine herself being adored. The man who recently wrote about falling in love with a beautiful woman with intoxicating red hair. 

His body was warm and strong over hers, and she wanted him everywhere. Each kiss was more perfect than the last. He told her he kept his romance novels in his bedroom, and she wanted to be treated to the same fate. She wanted to go there. When she told him as much, he started to scoop her up to her feet. In the dim lighting, she could tell his cheeks were flushed pink, and she knew she did that to him.

Bob guided her backwards up to the top step, and she knew he wouldn't let her fall. A few more stumbling steps and they were standing in his bedroom doorway with her hands holding his face and his fingers digging into her hips. "Did you write about me?" she asked softly, afraid he wouldn't be able to hear her over the rain, but too scared to speak any louder. "The new poems about the redhead?"

"I did," he replied without hesitation. 

Two words and Anna's hands were trailing down the back of his neck, pulling him closer until they were kissing again. "I want you," she whimpered against his lips. "I've wanted you for months." She was weak. She was so weak for him and the way he smelled and all of his books. His hands tightened around her hips and slid down a few inches until he was holding her in place and slowly grinding his hard length against her.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Anna," he breathed as she kissed the side of his neck. "Since the first time I saw you in the bookstore."

She moaned and let him lift her up by the backs of her thighs and carry her to his bed with her arms tight around his neck. When he sat down, she was straddling his hips, and his sinful gray sweatpants did nothing to hide him from her at this point. He felt huge as she rubbed herself on his cock through all of their clothing. His big hands were up the back of her shirt, and his fingers felt rough on her skin while she licked and kissed her way to his ear.

"Show me the romance," she whispered with a smile. 

"Oh. Uh..." He shifted like he was going to move toward the books stacked on his dresser where the soft light from a lamp made the room glow warm. "I have-"

"That's not the romance I want right now," she told him, and in an instant, she was laying on her back with her hands on the waistband of his sweatpants. 

"Better?" he asked, running his hands up her sides where her shirt was hiked up, pressing soft kisses to her lips.

"Yes," she promised, spreading her legs wider so he could settle against her core while he pushed her shirt up over her bra. Her nipples were almost painfully hard, and then his fingers found them through the lace. "Bob," she groaned, earning herself his cock pressed to her clit. If he kept it up, she would soak her leggings. His handsome face was hovering above hers, cheeks tinted pink and lips parted, and she arched her back for him when he started to run his fingers to the back of her bra.

It had been so long since anyone touched her intimately, and here she was in a room that smelled delicious like Bob while he deftly unhooked her bra and guided it and her shirt away from her body in one smooth motion. Her body was okay; her boobs were too small, and her belly wasn't flat, but he was looking down at her and taking the time to memorize everything. Then he groaned her name before his lips found the valley between her breasts, and three seconds later she was panting.

She slowly peeled his white undershirt over his head as she could barely focus on anything except his mouth on her nipples. His glasses were crooked on his face when he looked up at her, and he sounded out of breath as she dropped his shirt to the floor. "Anna. What do you want from me?" She answered by rolling her hips up to meet his, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he said, "You want that? Because once I really get going with you, I'm not going to be able to stop."

God, that was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. She reached down for the front of his pants and tugged at them, letting them slide down his narrow hips. He gasped a few obscenities under his breath, and goosebumps erupted on her skin. Then she slipped her fingers inside his underwear, and she was met with his thick cock.

"Yes, I want that," she promised, looking up at him and his messy hair and perfect face. "I want you."

She yelped as his big hands practically tore her leggings from her body, and then Bob settled in with his broad shoulders propping up her thighs and his mouth ghosting over her pussy. "I want you, too," he whispered before tasting her. One long swipe of his tongue turned into two and then three as she grabbed at his bedding and whined incoherently. "So fucking bad, Anna."

Had anything ever felt this good before? Bob's lips plucked at her clit as he whispered a line from his most recent poem, and she knew she was probably dripping on his bed. His hands were strong on her thighs, keeping her spread open. He buried his face in her pussy, fucking her with his tongue while she rode him. He was Sky Writing. He was Bob Floyd. He was the man her friends knew would be perfect for her from the very beginning. He was making her come.

"Fuck, fuck," she gasped as he sucked a little harder on her sensitive, swollen clit and plunged two fingers inside her. He was a bit rougher than she thought he would be, but somehow this was exactly what she needed. Her tits bounced as he finger fucked her until she got loud, and he circled her with his tongue before swiping it back and forth. He didn't rush it. He drew it slowly from her, just right. And then her orgasm left her with shaking legs and thrusting hips. 

The words that fell from her mouth were unintelligible, but she put them together a little bit better as the buzzing in her ears dulled to soft, muffled whir. "Fuck me, Bob."

When he kissed her, she could taste herself. He kept his mouth on hers while he wrestled himself the rest of the way out of his clothing, and then his fingers were stroking her slit, making her shake more. His wet fingers moved to her thigh where he traced a gentle pattern as he said, "All of these freckles. That's all I can think about. The shapes they make when you connect the pretty, little dots. How I could spell out my name with them."

"Oh my god," she moaned. "Oh!" His heavy cock came to rest on her pussy as he continued stroking her skin, and his lips found their way back along her breasts. 

"I wondered for months if your shirts were hiding more of them from me. Was dying to know if your tits were decorated as well." He ran his tongue in a lazy circle around one nipple as he grunted. "They are everywhere, and I want to taste all of them."

Anna was going to combust as Bob took a fistful of her red hair and slid himself down to her opening. He pushed himself in an inch, and she was already crying out for more. Another inch, and she was forcing her thighs open as far as they would go. He was licking and kissing her shoulders and collar bones while he slowly filled her until she hiccupped with need. He was so big, stretching her as her hands scrambled on his shoulders. And then he was fucking her, muttering like a mad man about freckles and the color red and how much he wanted her. His muscles rippled with intent beneath her fingers while he moved. This was already the best she'd ever had.

---------------------------

As the rain beat a rushed pattern on the bedroom windows, Bob moved at his own pace, needing this to last as long as possible. She was the woman of his dreams, panting and mewling beneath him as he fucked her. He couldn't keep his lips off of that one freckle next to her right nipple, and he didn't want to. Her skin felt like the smoothest silk, and she was beautiful when she was whining his name.

With a fistful of her red hair, he thrust harder, deeper, and his narrow hips pushed into those perfect thighs, already spread wide for him. She was soft everywhere as she took him, and the gentle bounce of her tits was mesmerizing.

Then he felt that first squeeze, and he shivered as Anna's fingers dug into the back of his neck. She looked surprised as he released her nipple in favor of her lips, licking at the pretty freckles on her cheek before he kissed her. He had her bottom lip tucked between his as she clenched his cock again and gasped his name. That's all he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

"Say it again," he murmured, and when he bottomed out, he was treated to her gasping voice once more. He stroked her temple with his thumb, drawing his name out of her again and again as she looked up at him with wide, brown eyes. She knew exactly who was doing this to her, and Bob wanted to be sure she remembered how it felt when her pussy started to milk him. She had to be close, and he was too as he told her, "Say it one more time."

Her voice was soft and lighter than air. "Bob." Then her head tipped back as he fucked her with a dozen intentional strokes, pressing against her clit until she got loud. She was clenching him harder as her hips came up off of his bed, and she cried out as she clung to him. Her legs were shaking, and her fingers were tugging at his hair, and the next few strokes into her tight pussy were just for him.

"Anna," he gasped as his glasses slid down his nose. He felt the familiar pull at the base of his spine. It was a warning, and he knew it. "Do I need to pull out?" But she was just starting to come down from her second orgasm, and all she seemed to be able to do was look up at him with a dreamy expression that he didn't want to see vanish yet. He kissed her lips gently even as he thrusted deep and whispered, "Baby, do I need to pull out?"

She was shaking her head just slightly from side to side, and he was afraid to take that as the answer he was looking for, but he didn't want to pull out. He wanted to cum inside her. After he asked one more time, she finally whispered, "No." And then it was a done deal. He filled her up, practically shouting her name as she kissed along his jaw and chin, completely sated and soft underneath him. 

Bob smiled at Anna and buried his face against her neck and shoulder, fighting the urge to tell her exactly how much she meant to him. He was still deep inside her as he kissed her ear and whispered her name, and soft laughter bubbled from her lips. His fingers were still tangled in her hair, but his grasp was gentler now. He would get up and make dinner for her, and then maybe she would want to join him in the shower before snuggling in bed. If she wanted to go for round two, he wouldn't say no. Perhaps he could convince her to sleep over and let him drop her off at her place early on Monday morning. They could read some poetry together. Maybe he could even read what he'd written about her on PoetsAmongUs.

Feeling better than he had in months, he started to pull himself free from her inviting body. He let his soft cock slip free, watching as his thick cum dribbled out of her, and he moaned before she sat up slightly. He kissed her knee before he asked, "Want me to make you a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner? I usually burn them, but I'll make sure yours is perfect. And then maybe we can talk about us?" 

He was rubbing his fingers along her ankle where there was a particularly attractive cluster of freckles when she abruptly sat up. Her brown eyes were wild as she repeated, "Us?" Bob was nodding, his smile tentative now, but it faded into nothing as she yanked her ankle away and scrambled off of his bed. "Oh no," she whispered, and he watched in horror as tears filled her eyes as she pulled her clothing back on.

"Anna?" he asked softly, climbing out of bed next to her and reaching for his sweatpants. "What's.... did I do something wrong?"

"No," she sobbed, swiping at her tears while refusing to meet his eyes as she slipped her shirt over her bra and turned toward his bedroom door. "You always do everything right. That's why I couldn't help myself."

Now he found himself chasing her down the stairs. He watched her pick up her phone and shove her feet into her shoes. "I don't understand," he whispered, running his hands through his hair as he stood there and watched her wrench his front door open. 

The sound of the rain got louder as she pushed open the screen door, but he could still clearly hear every word she said to him with pure agony on her face. "I'm so sorry, Bob. I'm married."

And then she was gone, running out into the rainy night while his door swung closed with a loud bang.

-------------------------

He really rocked her world, too. Why is he so hot? Why is she such a mess? I love them so much. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 11

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[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter II - We Shall Find Our Answers

Summary: You and your family return to King’s Landing after several years, and you are dreading having to face your uncle again. While you cannot change the past, maybe the lines on his palm can show some insight into your future. And maybe, just maybe, the future might be bright for the two of you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 5,5k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Pssst. Hey, you. I’m back. And I bring thee the continuation of this story, which I had a lot of fun writing. I intend on writing more for this little universe, so if you've liked this story so far, please consider staying tuned for more parts to come!

Just for clarification, I don’t understand much about the rules and laws of monarchy, but since this is my story and I’m already saying ‘screw canon’, we’re also gonna say ‘fuck tradition’ (and if any of the characters, especially Aemond, seem a bit ooc I deeply apologize, I’m just trying very hard to Bob-The-Builder the events of the show)

Also, I have purposefully left the question of the reader’s father somewhat ambiguous so there can be more leeway for the reader’s appearance to be undescribed.

Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you have enjoyed this story! <3

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

It had been several years since you had last stepped foot in King’s Landing. Not since the death of your aunt and father. Or fathers. Which meant you hadn’t seen Aemond since that fateful night in Driftmark. You’d been by his side in an instant once Luke had shaken you awake wailing like a babe that he had done something terrible. You had held his hand as the maester tended to his wound, much to his mother’s grief. She had even tried pushing you away from her son, but his hand held tightly around yours prevented you from going too far. He had wanted, no, needed the comfort of your presence. But that all changed when Jace explained what had transpired, what he had called your younger brothers and, by extension, yourself. You had dropped his hand as if it burned, feeling more betrayed than ever, not missing the way your hurt was reflected in his own eyes. Well, eye. He had tried to talk to you after everyone had been excused but you fled from him, not wanting to face him just yet. Perhaps never again, you had thought at the time.

Now a grown woman, you returned to King’s Landing once more, summoned by the court for a hearing in which Ser Vaemond Velaryon intended to question Lucerys legitimacy as heir to Driftmark (which he was in for a surprise as your mother did not intend to pass Driftmark down to Luke, but to Jacaerys instead, as previously discussed and agreed with your grandparents, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, while she would name you, her firstborn,   as heir to the Iron Throne after her). So it’s no surprise you were not looking forward to this visit at all. 

While you had kept in contact with Helaena through exchanged ravens, you hadn’t once written to Aemond, nor had he done so to you. You were dreading the moment you had to see him again, as you didn’t know how he would react to seeing you after the way you left things off in the past. In reality… you missed him. You missed having someone to talk to, someone who truly cared about what you had to say, who shared similar interests to you and enjoyed the diverging ones all the same. You missed your study partner, as Jace’s high valyrian was incredibly subpar, leaving him far behind you in his studies. You simply missed having him. 

The first moment you had laid eyes on him had been, unsurprisingly, in the courtyard. You’d been following after your brothers as they explored what had changed and what hadn’t around the Keep, trying to ensure they didn’t get into any trouble, when you noticed a small crowd forming around two men engaged in a heated training match. One was none other than Ser Criston Cole, who hadn’t aged a single day but looked like the stick up his ass had slipped even further in, and the other… 

You couldn’t help but stare, oblivious to anything else around you. He had grown quite a lot in the years you’d been apart. He was taller, his shoulders pulled back and his head held high, no longer the timid, self-conscious boy you’d once known. Where Ser Criston was strong Aemond was fast, his tall frame and lithe shape allowing for a more fast paced combat, his movements sharp yet swift and even somewhat… graceful. 

“You should clean up, right there.” you snapped out of your reverie, brought back to focus by your brother Jace, who motioned to the corner of his own mouth with a smirk hanging from his lips “You’re drooling.”

Feeling a warm flush on your cheeks you swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, finding nothing there, as Jace chuckled at your naivety and moved to join the crowd along with Luke.

Little cunt.

You followed after your brothers just as Aemond had his sword pointed right at Ser Criston’s neck. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, only catching the tail end of their conversation.

“Have you come to train?” he had been saying, his eye trained on Luke, some underlying darkness swirling in it, before his gaze finally met you and something shifted in it almost imperceptibly “Little niece.” 

The way he said it, the use of the once mocking title, left you reeling. The tone he used made it so you couldn’t quite tell if he had been sneering at you or in awe at your presence, if he was jesting or quite serious, mocking or sincere.

But your musings were interrupted by the gates opening, Ser Vaemond walking in as if he owned the place. Or like he was owed something from this place. It seemed your dreaded reunion with your uncle would have to wait.

As much as you hated being back in King’s Landing you couldn’t deny this place did manage to keep you entertained. The hearing had gone as well as one could expect, with Ser Vaemond hurling one insult after another at both you, your brothers and your mother and ultimately losing his head for it. All was well with your family, Jace’s claim to Driftmark and his status as future Lord of the Tides and your own as heir to the Iron Throne after your mother had been reaffirmed by the King himself, backed by your grandmother. 

During the whole hearing you couldn’t help but glance at Aemond from the corner of your eye every once in a while. He had a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face all throughout Vaemond’s speech, the bastard, but once your mother mentioned her desire to establish you as her heir to the Throne something changed. His gaze met yours and his face softened, the smugness disappearing all together from his features. 

It was the last you saw of him, having taken off to the courtyard to relish in the diminishing sun as it lowered in the sky by sitting under the weirwood tree. Jace and Luke were enjoying a stroll around the Keep with their respective betrotheds, occasionally passing by your peripheral vision.

“I thought I’d find you here.” a voice cut through the air, souring your mood.

“Have you come to question my legitimacy as well, uncle?” you asked Aemond, who stood in front of you with his hands behind his back, before nodding in your brother’s direction as they skirted the edge of the courtyard “Be careful not to speak too loudly, we wouldn’t want you to lose yet another eye, now, would we?”

The smallest twitch of his eye was the only indication that he was bothered by what you said. You knew it was low, and you did feel a twinge of guilt about it, but the hurt you’d been cultivating for him since that night was festering in your heart.

“Always the jester, little niece.” he smirked, taking a seat next to you, keeping you on his good eye’s side.

“Only for you.” 

You both fell silent, the air around charged with years of tension built between the two of you.

“I haven’t heard from you in ages.” he spoke softly, facing forward.

“You didn’t write.” you jabbed.

“You didn’t either.” 

He had you there. 

“Helaena’s told me of your travels.” he tried again “You’ve visited quite a lot of places.”

“I wanted to see the realm.” you explained, feeling some of the tension dissipating as he extended an opportunity for you opened up “To learn the ways of the people we are to rule.”

He only hummed in response.

“And what about you?” you turned to him, noticing how his body seemed to instinctively turn towards you as well “How have you been faring?”

“Oh, you know.” he shrugged, nonchalantly “I have been busy, studying, training with a sword, as you’ve very well seen,” the smirk that formed on his face was enough to bring heat to your cheeks “and trying to stop Aegon from drowning in his cups every night.”

A giggle escaped from your lips, which in turn prompted a small grin from him. This moment, right here with him, felt like before; it felt freeing. The full weight of how much you had missed him hit you like a Vhagar-sized carriage. 

A moment of silence passed before he turned somber again.

“My mother has deemed it time for me to find a wife.” he spoke slowly, his words making something twist painfully in your chest “She’s been trying to find matches for me in some of the noble houses. But none of the ladies in court will even look at me.”

He cast his gaze down and away from you, his stoic demeanor cracking for a moment and giving way to a forlorn expression. It seemed… awfully familiar to you.

“I frighten them. Not just them, the maids too.” his voice was soft, resignation dripping from his words, the prideful man you saw earlier in the yard taking a step back to allow the shy and insecure boy you once knew to make a reappearance “I think your lines have lied to you. No lady would ever want a one-eyed husband.”

“Aemond-”

“I told you once before, I don’t appreciate your pity, niece.” his tone hardened, but it lacked venom, meaning he wasn’t angry with you, rather upset at himself.

You could only wonder how much the events of that night had changed him, for better and worse. He might argue that he had claimed a dragon, the biggest in the world, so that made things even but you could only imagine the kind of pain, both physical and emotional, he had gone through since then.

“For what is worth” you started, raising a hand to his face very slowly, giving him more than enough time to halt your movements. He flinched at first but eventually relaxed, allowing you to lay your hand on his cheek, your thumb rubbing softly against the end of his scar “I am truly sorry for what happened that night. You didn’t deserve any of it.”  

His hand raised, grasping your wrist and running his own thumb on the skin at the edge of your sleeve.

“What I said that night,” he closed his eye for a moment then looked at you again “it was unbefitting. I never meant to hurt you.” he paused, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly, as if he was letting go of a lifetime of weight he’d been carrying “No more than I believe Lucerys meant to hurt me as badly as he did.”

It was an olive branch, you realized. Given how he now carried himself it was the closest thing to an apology you’d get. While he might not simply ever forgive your brother, he was willing to try and put it behind him, to let go of the pain, for you. And for that you’d forever be grateful to him. He tilted his head to the side, letting his lips linger on your palm for just a moment, before pulling your hand away from his face and carefully placing it on your lap again, both of you facing forward once more.

The silence that fell was not an uncomfortable one. It reminisced of the days you’d sit together in this same spot and wait for the servants to come fetch you when it was time for supper. But every nice moment had to be broken at some point.

“My grandsire and mother believe Aegon should be named my father’s heir.” he spoke after a moment, your head quickly snapping to look at him.

“What?”

“They believe that, as his firstborn son, he would have a better claim to the throne.” he glanced at you “That most lords would support him if it came to it.”

You were baffled by this revelation, even though you shouldn’t really be all that surprised. Otto Hightower was a cunt who would do anything in his power to have his own blood sit on the Iron Throne. As much as your mother resented her former friend you’d come to the conclusion that Otto had been the one responsible to sway Alicent against her. It shouldn’t come as a surprise he would be plotting against her. That’s why the man was smug about today’s hearing, and why his face promptly fell once Rhaenys made her support of Jacaerys, and by extension your mother, known. But…

“Why are you telling me this?” you questioned, confused as to why Aemond, the dutiful son, would tell on his family like that.

An amused grin, almost resembling a smirk, took over his features, his eye turned away from you.

“New information has come to light regarding the line of succession.”

Your heart clenched, a smile of your own appearing on your face. He recognized you as heir to the Throne, as a future queen. 

His smile, however, slowly slipped from his face, leaving a sad look in its wake.

“What troubles you, uncle?” you asked.

“I just-” he sighed, almost exasperated “I just do not understand how they could possibly believe Aegon of all people fit to be king. He, who disappears every fortnight for the Street of Silk, who’s barely ever sober during the day. He, who has his way with the servants while his own wife exists silently, he who, dare I say, barely understands a word of high valyrian and the importance of our family to the realm.”

His rant left him slightly breathless, as if he had been suppressing those feelings for a very long time. And although he had not dared say it, you heard the hidden meaning behind his words. If he, now a grown man, was anything like he was as a boy, he was much more suited to be king than his brother was. He was probably well studied in both history and philosophy, he knew his way quite well around a sword, as you’d seen, and he’d kept up with his lessons in high valyrian, like you had. He would make for a fine king, if it weren’t for your mother and, eventually, you.

And then it hit you.

Otto Hightower would do anything in his power to have his own blood sit on the Iron Throne.

“Give me your hand.” you spoke firmly. 

Aemond looked at you quizzically, taking too slow to comply so you forcefully grabbed his hand in yours, his palm facing upwards.

“Not this again.” he said, bemused.

As you ran your finger delicately over his palm, you took your time noticing the way calluses adorned the skin, once soft under your touch, probably from years of dragon riding and intense sword training. 

“Your line of life is still quite long, good.” you heard his scoff, although it sounded quite like a barely contained laugh “It means the Stranger will not come for you for quite a while still.”

His eye was trained on you as traced another line on his hand.

“And your line of heart still tilts upwards, so you will marry a woman who loves you dearly.”

You spoke with so much conviction, squeezing his hand, your eyes finally glancing up, locked firmly onto his own as you said it. 

“She’ll love and cherish you for everything that you are, unwaveringly and unapologetically. You’ll be hers as much as she’ll be yours.”

His eyes shone with barely contained hope, before you averted your gaze back to his palm.  

“And here,” you pointed to a small line near the bottom of his palm “is the line of the king. It appears only on the hands of those who are destined to rule over the realm.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t falter.

“You are jesting again, niece.” 

“I am not.” you shook your head, determined “The lines have never lied before, remember?” you mentioned, and he couldn’t argue with that, as the prediction you’d spoke of last time you found yourselves in this exact situation came true barely a few weeks afterwards “You will be king, Aemond.” 

You stood up quickly, barely brushing the skirts of your dress as you did.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

You took off before he could question you, rushing out of the courtyard in search of your mother. You had a matter most important you needed to discuss with her, one you’d already brought up with her many moons ago, but which at the time felt more like a distant childish dream.

Aemond hadn’t spoken to you again until it was time for supper. He had caught a quick glimpse of you sometime after you left the courtyard, speaking in hushed whispers with your mother while Daemon looked thoroughly vexed. But before he could approach you and inquire about your sudden departure earlier, both you and your mother took off to one of your chambers, he assumed, leaving his uncle to stare murderously at him. While Aemond wasn’t frightened by Daemon, he would even go as far as to say he admired the man, something about the way he was staring at him deeply unsettled him, so he decided to leave and wait for a better opportunity to speak to you, alone.

Now, during what surely was to be one awkward meal, he could see you from the other side of the table where you sat next to Baela. You looked positively radiant, smiling with your step-sisters and occasionally jesting with your brothers. From time to time you’d catch his eye, your smile turning mirthful, as if you knew something he didn’t. More than once throughout the night he caught you and Rhaenyra sharing a small, quick nod to one another, and Daemon rolling his eyes whenever he also noticed it.

After King Viserys congratulated Jacaerys and Lucerys on their betrothals, Jace leaned over Baela and whispered something to you. While he looked sullen, Baela had a small understanding smile as you tried to sooth him. His face softened as you grasped his hands, trying to reassure him of something, Baela supporting you quietly. The overjoyed smile that took over your features as Jace nodded lit something in Aemond’s chest, his heart skipping a beat.

At a certain point, after the King’s speech and Rhaenyra and Alicent’s toasts, Aegon got up and leaned over to “whisper” something to Baela, catching the attention of all those around her. Aemond couldn’t hear what his brother said all the way from his side of the table, but whatever it was Jacaerys looked like he was about to drive a dagger through him. But you and your sharp words were quicker.

“At least he can stay sober long enough to get it up.” you spoke, your voice loud enough for the entire room to hear “Can Helaena say the same about you, uncle?”

Several reactions could be heard around the table. Helaena herself snorted into the wine she had been sipping, Daemon laughed loudly from his place at Rhaenyra’s side and even a small, tired chuckle could be heard leaving the King’s mouth. Aemond couldn’t help but smirk as his brother all but crumbled back in his seat, a frown unveiling his embarrassment. 

Jace took his time toasting both his uncles but there was something… different in the way he addressed each of them. Whereas Aegon’s name was said with mocking admiration and contempt, Jace’s tone as he said Aemond’s name was laced with quiet resignation. And the tiny grin he directed at Aemond took him by surprise.

Helaena, a little bit tipsy at this hour, also took the opportunity to congratulate Rhaena and Baela in their betrothals, also taking a jab at Aegon’s already wounded pride. While he felt his chest fill with pride for his sister, Aemond couldn’t help but notice the moment you shared with your mother once again, the questioning look on her face and the determined nod you gave as answer to whatever question you found in the depth of her eyes.

“Speaking of marriage,” Rhaenyra started as she stood up and turned to face the seats of his father, mother and grandsire “my only daughter is now of marrying age as well.”

Aemond felt something twist painfully in his chest at the thought, turning his eye to glance at you and was surprised to find you already looking at him, the corners of your lips turned up in a soft grin.

“I would like to make a proposition.” your mother continued, turning to look at him, bringing his attention back to her. He felt his heartbeat increase as she stared at him for a moment longer, some heat climbing to his cheeks, before she turned to address his family once again, her eyes locked onto Alicent “I would like to propose we wed her to your second son, Prince Aemond.”

He barely registered anything else over the thunderous flow of blood against his eardrums, reflecting on the speed at which his traitorous heart was beating in his chest. He glanced back at you, watching as you smiled warmly at him. Something in him just felt right. He felt as if everything was falling into place within his life.

Aemond had never let himself want. He realized quite early in his life that he would only ever be the second son, and considering how much his father favored Rhaenyra over any other of his other children, he didn’t really matter much in comparison to his siblings. So he had learned never to wish for anything for himself, he had never dared hope that good things would come to him. And now here you were, the only one who has ever truly cared for him, offering something he never allowed himself to dream of.  

“And” Rhaenyra continued, drawing his attention back to her. There was more? What else could she possibly offer that could be worth more than that? He allowed himself a quick glimpse at Daemon, who once again looked bothered by what she was about to say “once I have come to pass and it is time for her to take over as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he would be crowned king alongside with her. He would be not a prince, nor king consort, but a true king. They would rule as equals, and eventually their children would sit in the Iron Throne after them.”

What?

As soon as the words were out of her mouth his mind simply ceased to work. They were thinking of… what? His head quickly snapped to look at his family, wanting to gauge their reactions as well and assess if they were just as confused as he felt.

His father was positively delighted at the prospect of uniting his fractured family once more. His mother, on the other hand, looked irked at Rhaenyra for having sprung this proposition in front of Viserys, as he’d obviously agree, and she wasn’t looking forward to having a possible bastard as her son’s wife (even if she knew he once cared deeply for you). And his grandsire… he looked conflicted. Otto Hightower wasn’t an easy man to read, but he had been so caught by surprise that he was wearing all his emotions on his sleeve. While he, like Alicent, seemed bothered by the timing of this proposal, he also looked… intrigued?

“We were thinking of passing Dragonstone down to Aegon and keeping both Aemond and my daughter here in King’s Landing so they can learn with me and the council the ways of ruling, so they are well prepared when it comes their time to rule.” 

“And what of Lucerys?” Alicent questioned warily.

“He would live in Driftmark with Jace, learning the ways of salt and sea, in hopes of one day becoming my, and later his sister’s, Master of Ships.” Rhaenyra completed.

Silence ruled over the room for a moment, nobody daring to utter a word. Not even the servants, watching from the corners, made a single sound.

“And who was the one” Viserys spoke slowly, getting more tired as the night progressed “behind such a wonderful idea?” 

“I-” your mother started, but Daemon quickly cut her off.

“The girl did.” he nodded his head towards you, a smug smile growing on his lips at the prospect of possibly throwing you under the carriage. 

Aemond’s head snapped towards you, your smile never wavering. So that’s what you had been speaking to Rhaenyra all day. After your talk in the courtyard, you’d gone off to find your mother, to express your wishes not only to marry Aemond, but to also make him king. Just like the lines on his palm told you. But… why?

“And just what” Otto questioned, as if reading his grandson’s mind “has led the princess to decide to break hundreds of centuries of tradition and wish to share the Throne?”

Rhaenyra turned back to you, sending a silent question in your direction yet again. You shook your head and stood up, as if deciding to face the judgment of the Hightowers all by yourself.

“While my family has resided in Dragonstone for the past few years, my lord,” you started, an eloquence that indicated you’d been preparing, and maybe even rehearsing, this speech in your mind for a while “I have taken to flying around the realm on dragonback, visiting all of the Seven Kingdoms. I’d wished to see for myself and understand the people I’d one day rule over. However, being away from King’s Landing for so long also means I am not versed in the matters of court. Prince Aemond, on the other hand,” oh, how sweet your voice sounded when you said his name accompanied by his title “has lived his entire life here in the Red Keep. He’s been in these halls, around the lords and ladies of court, for quite a while and knows how such matters are supposed to work. I believe our knowledge combined will give us the strength, as a unity, required to rule over the realm together and establish a peaceful and prosperous reign.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you paused, your expression souring.

“And” you chuckled mirthlessly, your previously warm smile falling to a resigned one “I am a woman. The lords of the noble houses of Westeros may support my mother’s claim as they have sworn an oath to his grace, the King, but many of them are already of advanced age and may soon come to perish, some have already died even. While most of these houses are righteous and their sons and grandsons will likely honor their ancestors' wishes and support me as my mothers heir, there is no telling what will happen. They might not take kindly to yet another woman ruling over the realm, and especially one they didn’t technically agree on. So as much as I loathe to admit it, having a man by my side, supporting me as an equal, would strengthen my claim and prevent anyone from questioning me as queen.”

It made sense, all of it. Change as impactful as this tends to happen over time, not all at once, and it was known the men of the realm would not so easily accept a woman on the Iron Throne, something Aemond knew his grandsire was counting on to bring Aegon to power eventually, so it was a smart move to have a husband at your side. Your arguing was solid, and Otto Hightower seemed to agree as he reclined back on his seat, somewhat impressed.

Alicent, however, looked like she still wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

“And why would you wish to marry my son?” she questioned, her tone stern.

Your smile faltered briefly, betraying your confusion.

“Why, your grace, I believe I have already explained-”

“No,” she cut you off “you’ve explained why this union would be beneficial for you as a representative of the Crown. I want to know why you wish to marry him. You could have any man in the realm, hells, there have been rumors that Cregan Stark himself has requested an audience in Dragonstone, possibly to request a courtship for your hand.” That was before anyone knew Rhaenyra planned on making you her heir and it was believed you’d inherit nothing at all, Aemond caught himself thinking “So why do you want to marry Aemond?”

That had him leaning forward in his seat. He knew, logically, this marriage stemmed from convenience. He knew he, and you as well, were mere pawns in your family’s schemes. But he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind your proposal. Even if it was just a political move, he would have accepted in a heartbeat but he dared to wish, no, hope that you actually wanted this, that you wanted him.

“I…” you fumbled for a moment, averting your gaze before steeling yourself, eyes locking with his mother’s once more “My uncle and I were close once, many years ago. We used to share a connection that has since been lost to time.” 

You took a deep breath, as if preparing to reveal your deepest secrets to the whole family.

“I would like for us to get to know one another once more and go back to the way things were. Maybe even strengthen our bond.” you then turned to him, your eyes soft and warm and with the slightest of glimmer to them, as if you were willing yourself not to shed any tears “And I believe, with time, I could learn to love him dearly. I would love and cherish him for everything that he is, unwaveringly and unapologetically.” your lips trembled almost imperceptibly, so much so that had he not been paying close attention to you he’d have missed it “I’d be his as much as he’d be mine.”

Aemond felt his breath hitch, his heart hammering in his chest once more. He didn’t know what to think. This, right here, seemed so unreal. Deep down he knew this might just be the solution to everyone’s problems, it could be the very thing that mended the divide that had been growing inside of House Targaryen, but… could it be possible? Would his family agree?

“I believe this to be an amazing occasion.” the King spoke, looking happier than he’d been in a long while, before turning to his wife “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Alicent in turn looked to her father for answers and Aemond waited with bated breath for his response. Otto’s word was law in her eyes, Aemond  knew, so he was the one who had final say in the matter. His answer came as a tiny nod and in that moment, as Aemond barely registered his mother’s next words, he had never been more grateful for his grandsire.  

“I am inclined to agree that this will be a most blessed union.” Alicent said, her smile, always cold when it came to you, warming considerably.

“It’s settled then. Looks like we’ll have a wedding even sooner than expected.” Viserys then tapped his cane on the ground “Let us have some music.” 

As the musicians started playing an animated melody, Aemond felt lighter than he had in years. He could hardly care for everyone around him, not even noticing anyone’s reaction to the news other than your own. With his eye focused solely on you he could see the relief settling in at his mother’s words as you beamed at him, more radiant than ever.

“Aemond, dear, why don’t you take your betrothed for a dance?” 

He was out of his seat before Alicent could even finish her sentence, crossing the space between you in wide strides and extending a hand to you. You accepted gracefully. As you positioned yourselves to dance, you smiled bashfully at him, looking down at your feet, slightly embarrassed.

“I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for bringing this up all of a sudden, uncle.” you explained, looking back at him “I didn’t want to waste another moment and risk losing my chance.” 

It was his turn to smile, not a smirk or a smug grin, a genuine smile. 

“There is nothing to forgive, little niece.” the way he said the moniker this time, once used to mock you, was so filled with only affection and care that it almost brought tears to your eyes once again.

You danced for a few moments in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Then you leaned closer to him, as if wanting to share something privy to his ears alone.

“I told you once before, Aemond.” your smile turned into the tiniest of smirks “The lines don’t lie.” 

His heart clenched at the memory, which seemed so distant yet so fresh in his mind. He tightened his grip around you, bringing your body even closer to his own, wanting to feel you close to him, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

“Indeed,” he whispered softly back to you, leaning his head against your own “I guess they truly don’t.”

And then everyone is happy, Rhaenyra and her family don’t leave for Dragonstone before dawn, meaning she’s there when Viserys goes to sleep forever, meaning she’s crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, meaning the Greens don’t usurp the Throne, meaning the Dance never happened, meaning no one dies and everyone lives happily ever after, hurray!

(About Daemon's behavior, he’s not mad at reader or Rhaenyra, nor does he dislike reader in any way. He’s just resentful Rhaenyra hasn’t thought nor has she offered to what she does to Aemond in this story. And as we know, when these Targaryen boys are frustrated, they tend to lash out. Hope this clarifies some things!)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 6

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 6 🔞

Word Count: 6110

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

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 and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Just a little heads up for the first scene 🔞 the rest is SFW! Also, doesn't it feel right for Doffy to slip in a few words of Spanish every now and then? I'm sure I've seen people do that in x reader fics (it's not new!) and maybe that's why it feels right...

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil

Masterlist

|Chapter 5| | |Chapter 7|

-*- Start of 🔞 -*-

Law closes the door to the bathroom and locks it. Now that he's alone he lets himself lose a sliver of his control. He slumps against it softly and closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his parted lips. 

He went too far. 

He didn't mean to make you come, he just wanted to tease you. But your face, your whimpers, your heat… it was all too much for him to handle. He needed to feel you close, to have you wrapped around him and holding him like a vise. He gave in. He shouldn't have. 

He kicks his sneakers away and unbuttons his jeans with a soft groan, finally freeing his bulging cock. He got rock hard as soon as he started to touch you. He can usually prolong the teasing as far as he wants without getting this turned on himself. 

But your whimpers… the way you gave up and begged, your willingness to let him do what he wants to you. It's all too much and yet, he is well aware that it will never be enough. He got a taste and now he’s obsessed. 

Turning the shower on cold and removing the rest of his clothes, he hisses as soon as the water hits his back. He needs to regain his control. He shouldn't have gone this far, he'll have to apologise to you. 

But for now, not even the icy water can take away the sound of your mewls in his ears, the way your lips part willingly for him and the way your flesh moulds easily in his hands. 

“Fuck!” He curses softly as he punches the wall of the shower in frustration. Closing his eyes, his hand finds his cock throbbing and he palms it. A gentle squeeze and then a rougher one. He imagines you on your knees, willingly opening your mouth for him, your small, warm hands grabbing his length and licking it from top to bottom, your sweet eyes holding his gaze. 

“Yes, sweetheart, good girl.” He mumbles against his teeth as his hand bobs up and down. He won't need much stimulation. He'll unravel just as easily as you did earlier. The tension between both of you is so thick that it's crushing. 

He groans and tenses, he's so close. 

He wasn't lying about your love story. Maybe it's not love yet, but it's something he hasn't felt in a while. You're special, you make him happy. 

His hips thrust forward, faster against his hand as he pumps himself in a maddening rhythm. He's now picturing you squirming beneath him, your lips chanting his name in abandon, your whole body clenching his. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It's not just attraction and want. 

He comes with a muffled grunt, his viscous seed spilling against his stomach, his hand and dripping down the drain of the shower. His breaths are uneven and the ice-cold water does nothing to break this heat. 

It's not just attraction and want. It's so much more. 

-*- End of 🔞 -*-

You sit on the armchair as soon as Law enters the bathroom. Your heart is still beating out of sync, you're still breathless and a haze fills your brain. 

How did he make you come undone so easily? He didn’t even need to properly touch you. What kind of spell does he have on you?

As you get up, trying to shake away all the lingering feelings of his touch and lips on your body, you remember how he couldn’t even look into your eyes afterwards. You shouldn’t have let go so easily. Maybe he wanted you to last longer. You didn’t discuss orgasms in your boundaries, but, as you ruled out sex, you didn’t realise that it might happen with just teasing. 

You can’t help but think that you’ve, somehow, crossed some kind of unspoken barrier. You’ll need to apologise to him. 

And you both might need to make your boundaries clearer. 

It’s not that you mind what happened. You don’t regret it and you wouldn’t mind at all if it happened again. But if he’s not comfortable with it, it needs to be spoken about. 

Sighing heavily, you stare at your clothes, about to choose something to wear to dinner, but you don’t know what to wear. Is it formal? Casual? Are jeans too casual but a cocktail dress too formal?

You’re about to sit back down again, your tablet already open on your trusted spreadsheet to distract you, while you wait for Law to come out of the bathroom so he can tell you what clothes would be appropriate, when the door opens. 

He has a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and still dripping against his tattooed torso and you have to swallow hard before you start to drool. His eyes meet yours for a brief second and you can already tell how much collected he is since your earlier interaction.

“I didn’t grab any clothes before hitting the shower.” He says, to justify his state of undress.

“It’s alright, I was just wondering what I was supposed to wear. Is dinner formal? Casual?” Your voice is still altered and on edge, too high-pitched to be your normal tone and you’re sure he picks up on it.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he opens his bag to fish out some clothes. “Dinner in this household is always a formal event. Though you are fine with semi-formal clothes.” Immediately your eyes rake the closet for what dresses you packed. There are some that fit the description so you should be fine.

“I shouldn’t have gone too far. It wasn’t my intention.” Your head whips back at him. He’s scratching the back of his neck - still undressed - and has a conflicted expression on his face. Though he can hold your gaze now. 

A nervous smile tugs at your lips as you turn and shake your head. “No, no, it’s okay. It was my fault I… I got too caught up in the moment and-...”

“You don’t have to apologise for feeling pleasure.” His voice drags and envelops you. There’s a sense of safety in his words, a lack of judgement for any and all of your actions. Suddenly it hits you:

As controlling as he tends to be in these intimate settings - domineering even - he makes you feel free. You can be yourself. You can be whatever you need to be and he’ll accept you with open arms. For who you are.

And that is very new, uncharted territory.

Because with Ichiji you were always trying to be someone you were not. Faking your happiness, your likes and dislikes, just faking!

With Law…

It’s simple. So, so simple. 

And this realisation makes your breath hitch, leaving you speechless and winded. Even from where you’re standing, you can see the way Law’s jaw clenches and ticks as he takes in your reaction with calculated measures. 

“I won’t do it again. We never have to go that far again, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” Is that regret or sadness in his voice?

You shake your head with vigour. He’s got it all wrong. Yet you don’t trust yourself enough to open your mouth at this moment. Your throat is tight with tension. It has been some time since you have felt validated and actually heard. It’s silly, heck, it’s silly as hell, but the simplest things are the ones that trigger you the most. 

Law approaches you tentatively, he can probably sense something is wrong but the all-too familiar crease wrinkling his brows tells you he thinks he’s the cause of this tension. And he is, but for all the right reasons. 

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks, taking a step back even before fully reaching you. 

“No.” You finally find your voice, though it’s still trembling and weak. “I’m not hurt, or ashamed, or angry, or anything like that!” You let your eyes meet his, a blush on your cheeks and a soft smile tugging at your lips. “It just hit me that I can be exactly who I am with you. And that’s okay. I don’t need to pretend anymore.” Then you chuckle, a snort following your outburst. “I mean, we are pretending, but between you and me… I… well, I can’t quite explain it, but it’s good. I’m feeling good! Because of you.”

The sigh that escapes his lips is soft and full of relief. 

“I don’t need to understand completely. As long as I didn’t make you uncomfortable. As long as you’re happy.”

You nod with another smile and he returns to his hunt for clothes while maintaining a close eye on you. 

“Law.” You whisper, not looking at him while you too select the clothes you’re going to wear before heading towards the bathroom. “You said you wouldn’t do it again but… I…” He’s silent. He’s going to make you say it.

Somehow you know he’ll always make you say what you want, express your desires and needs. He wants to hear you. 

Wait, always? That’s too long…

“I won’t mind if you… do it again. Nothing’s changed. No boundaries were added. At least on my part.” You briefly look at him. He’s wearing a smug smirk on his lips, just a raised corner of his mouth as his amber gaze pierces you. “Do you-...” 

“No boundaries added.” He interrupts you and you nod. Already that familiar heat is starting to pool in your belly again. All the possibilities are still open. 

And you’re willing to take them with open arms.

-*-

The air between you has cleared and everything is back to normal. You're both showered and dressed and ready to go mingle with family and close friends. There's still a bit of time before you're expected downstairs so you're sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed, with the tablet open in front of you, your notebook on the side and you're chewing on the end of your pen, mouthing facts and curiosities about Law in order to memorise them. 

Law has been sitting in the armchair across from you for about ten minutes. His chin resting against his knuckles and eyes fixed on you, watching your every move. 

“Are you nearly done?” His voice chimes with amusement. 

“Not even close.” You mumble and sigh, opening your arms and falling back to face the ceiling. “I'm so nervous. I'm so doomed. Law, I don't want to fail you.” You drape your arm over your eyes for dramatic effect. 

Your whine is both desperate and frustrated. You think you're ready for all the personal questions anyone sends your way, and even if there's something amiss, you've only been ‘dating’ for two months! It's completely believable. 

However, before you can rally and say you're prepared, you feel pressure on your ankles and Law pulls you towards the edge of the bed, dragging you close to him. Leaning on his arms, which he places on each side of your head, he stares at your eyes deadpan. 

“You're ready. You've got this. We've got this.” His gaze doesn't waver and he's hovering very, very close to your face. So you just nod. His presence is too intense for anything other than that. “Use your words, sweetheart. Do you have this?”

“I've got this.” You whisper. 

“Good.”

For a second it almost looks as if he's going to kiss you, but he backs away and a feeling of dread in your stomach makes you wonder if something’s really changed after what happened earlier. The second after, you’re chastising yourself. Nothing’s changed because there’s nothing to change. You’re nothing to each other. Period.

You’re helping him in a tricky family situation and he’s helping you with your over-controlling issues. Nothing else.

“Let's go.”

-*-

You end up choosing a beautiful cocktail dress that is not overly formal but is not as casual as a summer dress and, after fixing your hair and dress again - from having been dragged by Law on top of the bed - he assures you that you look stunning and you both leave the room. 

Law's dressed in black jeans, a white dress shirt - half open to show off his tattoos - and a blazer. You sigh. You can't get enough of his sexiness. 

He extends his hand for you to take and you can't help a small smile from curling your lips. This does feel like a real relationship, so you need to keep reminding yourself that it's all fake. You can't fall in love with Law over a fake relationship. 

Wait, fall in love? Where did that come from? 

Law leads you through corridors and halls and, slowly, his demeanour becomes charged again. The usual scowl in place, the familiar creasing in his forehead. It's like he's a different person around his uncle, so much more guarded. So much more unattainable. When you reach the stairs to descend to the hall where all the guests are mingling before heading towards the dining room, Law lets go of your hand and places it on your lower back instead. 

“It's showtime.” He mutters softly as you begin descending. You can feel all the eyes turning towards you, it seems like everyone is already gathered downstairs. 

Baby 5 is the first to approach you, a big smile on her face as she drags a taller man with an annoyed expression on his face towards you. “Cousin Law! I've missed you!” She tries to hug him but Law grunts and refuses, making you chuckle. “This is Sai! My husband-to-be! Isn't he handsome?” She says dreamily. Sai doesn't seem too thrilled to be here at all, but when their eyes meet, you can see how his gaze softens. There might be love under all that gruffness after all.  

Law clasps the man's hand and shakes it, then introduces you to them. 

“Hello, it's very nice to meet you, and congratulations on your nuptials.” You say with a smile. “You make the most wonderful couple.”

Baby 5 is delighted with you. “Oh, Law! She's wonderful!” When Law looks at you to confirm her words, you somehow find his eyes softening as well, but he's interrupted before he can say anything. 

“Trafalgar, it's been a while since I've seen you.” A blonde man with prominent scars on his face and a wide grin approaches. He speaks to Law but his eyes linger on you. “Baby 5 is right, your friend is wonderful.”

Law's scowl becomes more pronounced, his hold on your back tightens and he pulls you closer. “It's girlfriend, Bellamy.”

Bellamy chuckles and raises his hands in apology before you and Law move on to greet other guests. There are some board members Law said would be present and they're an odd bunch - Trebol, Diamante, Pica and Vergo are their names. The bridesmaid, Sugar, looks really young but Law tells you she's just two years younger than Baby 5. A groomsman, Buffalo and, of course, Doffy and Cora. The bride says that the rest of the wedding party will only arrive tomorrow so it's quite an intimate affair. 

To you, it is anything but intimate. It's intimidating. Doflamingo keeps watching you and Law like a hawk, waiting for some kind of slip-up; his associates are already trying to whisk Law away, though he manages to postpone business talk until after dinner; and Bellamy keeps leering at you. 

When Cora cheerfully announces that it's time to head to dinner, you close your eyes briefly and take a deep shaky breath. Law notices your discomfort and lingers behind, letting the guests enter the dining room ahead of you. 

Then, he turns you towards him, his fingers grazing your ear and then your earring, trailing down your neck as you sigh. The signal. “If this were real,” he whispers near your ear so only you can hear, “you wouldn't have to feel nervous. You'd know I would be there at your side every step of the way. You'd count on me.”

Law's eyes bore into yours as his hands cup your cheeks in an intimate gesture. It’s so comforting that you have to keep repeating in your head that this is all fake and that he just used the signal! Then, you nod in acknowledgment of his words. “I do, Law. I count on you. I trust you.” You don't need to use the signal for your words, they're not fake, they're the absolute truth. You spy Doflamingo watching you from the doorway and Law must have seen him too, because he leans forward and gives you a small peck on the cheek. The small smile on your lips that follows his gesture is also something that is completely true. 

Law clasps your hand in his to lead you to the dining room but Doflamingo still looms on the threshold, observing both of you closely, his arms crossed over his chest and a huge grin on his face. “Law, princesa. I hope you had an agreeable rest, earlier.” 

You blush at his words. It's almost as if he knows something happened between you, but he can't know, right? It's just a silly guess. “Yes, Uncle, very agreeable. The car ride was quite tiring.” Law pulls you but Doflamingo steps forward, cutting your path and staring directly into your eyes. 

“And you, cariño?” A shiver runs down your spine as you face the intensity of his stare and your heart rate accelerates dramatically.  

“Yes, sir. Very agreeable, thank you.” You can't help but notice how small and meek your voice sounds under his scrutiny. Doflamingo really is someone who demands respect. 

“Hmm…” He starts, holding a hand against his chest, and then whispers. “Careful, you're making me like you. You're really something.” Without taking his eyes off yours, he addresses Law. “You better keep a good hold on this one, Law. I might steal her too.”

Law growls, his calm facade showing a few cracks before he pulls you inside so you can find your seats. There’s no chance to ask him what his uncle meant now, the room is too crowded, and there’s no telling who could be listening.

But what could he mean about stealing you too? What happened? With whom? It feels like this is something you should be privy to, especially because Doflamingo keeps hinting at something. You make a mental note not to forget to address this with Law once both of you are alone. 

The dining room is, like everything else in this house, grand and opulent, screaming wealth and fortune. Enormous chandeliers hang from the ceiling, shadowing the massive table. Beautiful china adorns it, along with vases of flowers and the most stunning silverware. It’s all so beautiful.

Law finds your seats and holds the chair for you, helping you get comfortable. He’s by your side, Sugar on your other side and Bellamy directly in front of Law. Cora sits at one end of the table, next to Law, and Doflamingo is on the other end, carefully watching every exchange with his observant gaze. 

Bellamy keeps stealing glances at you and Law’s scowl deepens even more. His hand rests on your thigh under the table, and even though no one can see it, it’s a definitive claim to you. He’s acting possessive, and it stirs something within you.

Is it all fake? 

The meal begins and everything seems to be flowing smoothly now. Baby 5 is a regular chatterbox and, being at Bellamy’s side, she alone holds the entire conversation for the majority of dinner. Every now and then, she asks you something or other about your relationship, nothing of much importance and all things you and Law have already rehearsed.

You feel a sense of peace and calmness washing away your earlier anxiety. It seems as if you were dreading this dinner for nothing. If the rest of the weekend goes as smoothly as this meal, you’ll both be perfectly fine. 

But the wine has been flowing freely. You and Law have been restrained and switched to water long ago. Neither of you wants to get drunk and ruin the pretence, but the other guests are more at ease. And that fact is quite clear when Bellamy decides to stare directly at you. His gaze unmoving and his grin wide.

You begin to shift uncomfortably in your chair, wishing for this dinner to end so you can all get up, but dessert is still being served so it will be another half-hour, at least.

Law senses your discomfort and leans into your ear, you lean towards him as well and when he speaks, his whisper tickles your ear and sends shivers down your spine. “Relax. I’ll put him in his place.” His hand reaches up as he caresses your ear and earring using your signal. “You’re mine, and I’ll let him know soon enough that I don’t share.”

The word ‘mine’ sends a different kind of shiver up your spine. One that lingers. One that burns. It travels through your veins like molten lava and settles low in your core, a thrum beating at the same unholy rhythm as your heart. 

You can only nod as Law pulls back.

Another moment passes as you receive your dessert and engage in a bit of girl talk with Sugar and Baby 5 about wedding dresses, but you can still feel the burning, lingering gaze of Bellamy upon you. It’s disconcerting.

Law places his hand on your thigh again, making sure Bellamy sees the gesture, before facing him with a sly smirk. “Bellamy,” his tone is casual, though thick with tension. “Is there something you would like to say to my girlfriend? You keep staring. It’s rude.”

The chatter around you silences as people close to you follow the exchange. Bellamy’s grin falters a bit as he shifts and adjusts his seat in the chair. He wasn’t expecting Law’s confrontational question. 

“I just like to look at pretty things, Law. Didn’t know it was a crime.” He leans back, hands in the air, to excuse his behaviour. 

Law’s smirk never falters, his touch is unwavering. His tone, however, speaks of annoyance and defiance. “Oh, I know she’s pretty. More than that, she’s stunning. But it’s not just about looking, is it, Bellamy? It’s about intent. And yours seems very, very misplaced.”

Your heart tightens in your chest as you see, from the corner of your eye, Doflamingo watching you attentively, though the rest of the table on his side is pretty oblivious to what is happening around you. 

“Come on, man, relax. Drink some more wine. Looking doesn’t do any harm.” Bellamy lets out a nervous chuckle.

“It does when you’re looking at something that doesn't belong to you. You should learn to keep your gaze away from what is mine.” He nearly growls the word.

That word again. Your breath hitches and you bite your lower lip. You can’t help but feel safe and protected near Law. A bright flush spreads through your cheeks and you take a sip of water to try and calm yourself. Law’s hand on your leg squeezes and you take a deep breath. 

Yet the fire in you burns hotter.

“Alright, alright. Geez, man, I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Bellamy adds, though his smug grin says otherwise.

“Good. We’re clear then.” Law’s gaze is unwavering and he doesn’t stop piercing his amber eyes into Bellamy’s until the blonde looks somewhere else. 

You can’t help but hear Law’s voice saying ‘mine’ over and over again in your head, just like a song on repeat. 

-*-

Finally dinner comes to an end, but it’s still far too early in the night to retire and you are all ushered by a smiling Cora to a lounge with a bar where you can have a few more drinks and let conversation flow.

After all, some guests are having fun.

Law leads you with a firm hand on your lower back, but you can feel some strain in his countenance, and you quickly understand why when one of Doflamingo’s associates beckons him over to a table. 

Law groans, facing you. “I need to take care of some business with those oafs over there.” Then he sighs as he uses the signal on your earring again. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, a very chaste kiss to share in public. A kiss that doesn’t fail to send tingles all over your skin and burn in more places than it should. Law whispers: “If this were real, you wouldn’t need to worry if I were away from you. I’d be imprinted so hard on your body, mind and soul, that you wouldn’t even miss me.”

His words never fail to make you shiver. The intensity with which he delivers them is so powerful that, for a brief moment, you’re fooled into thinking he actually means it. Just a brief moment, though. “I’ll be alright. We’re in the same room. What can happen that is so terrible?”

Law’s scowl is back in an instant and his gaze flickers towards Doflamingo. “Much can happen. But I won’t allow it.” Another peck and he turns his back on you to meet with the men who have already called him again.

You sigh, locate Bellamy, still gazing at you, and decide to go to the complete opposite side of the room. Luckily Baby 5 and Sugar gather near you and you manage to distract yourself with the girls. Time goes by rather fast, in contrast to what happened during dinner and in the blink of an eye, Law is back by your side. But he's still sporting that tense scowl. 

“I just came to check on you.” Baby 5 and Sugar are listening so he keeps the pretence, however, he doesn’t use the signal. “Wouldn't want you to think I've abandoned you.” 

Your smile is genuine as you grab his hands. “It's alright, Law. I'm in good hands.” He squeezes and the way he's looking at you makes something flutter in your stomach. 

You are suddenly reminded that you both discussed physical boundaries, but never emotional ones. Should you? Because this soft look he's giving you could be far more dangerous to your heart than a heated touch. 

“You guys are so cute. I wish I could just turn you into plushies and have you on my bed.” Sugar says, her eyes sparkling with emotion. 

Well that certainly cuts the emotional tension in the bud. Law rolls his eyes and you chuckle. “I'm just going to get a drink and go back there. It won't be long now, they're discussing a new merger and want to make sure everyone on the board approves.”

You sigh, your lower lip inadvertently pouting a bit. Why must he talk business at a family meeting? 

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your lip. “That's cute.” He murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “See you soon.” His hand lingers on your lip before releasing with another longing sigh from you. 

You excuse yourself to go to the restroom and when you return, Baby 5 and Sugar are nowhere to be seen. They must have had some last minute wedding stuff to attend to, but now you feel oddly out of place. Law doesn't acknowledge your entry, too entangled in a heated conversation with Vergo, his expression very guarded. Something must not be going very well with the discussions. You're thirsty, so you swing by the bar - complete with a bartender - and ask for a virgin mojito, while leaning slightly on the counter to stretch your back. 

“Lovely accent, mi querida.” Doflamingo’s drawl makes your breath hitch and you turn towards his voice, a deer-in-headlights expression on your face. You look for Law, but his uncle is standing right in your line of sight and he's so big that you doubt Law knows you're there. He probably still thinks you're in the bathroom. 

“Thank you, sir.” You whisper to him, accepting the drink from the bartender with a strained smile and taking a step back. 

His grin widens, turning wicked and you take a sip of the cold drink to distract yourself from his sharp, piercing gaze. Doflamingo accepts his glass of red wine without a ‘thank you’ or any sort of acknowledgment to the bartender, his eyes never leaving you. 

“You're interesting.” He states once again. “Makes me wonder why you're in a relationship with my nephew.” His tone is inquisitive. He's probing, you have to sell this, you're prepared. You just need to forget how extremely intimidating he is. 

“I'm in a relationship with Law because we fell in love, sir. It's as simple as that.” You say, like it's the most obvious statement in the world. Then you set down your drink and grasp the counter to stop the shaking of your hands. 

He tuts and sighs dramatically. “Nothing regarding love is ever just simple.” Then he takes another step, further invading your space. “Is it?”

You stand your ground, trying not to feel intimidated. “With us it is. We want to be together. I want to be with Law.” Why are you being so defensive? Is he going to read through your act? You desperately want Law to see you, to come to you. Maybe even Cora? But Cora was also engaged in that discussion and, thinking about it, shouldn't the head of Donquixote Enterprises also be there? Why was he taunting you instead? 

“You don't know what you want yet, princesa. Trust me.” He says. His grin widens and he leans his head forward, whispering in your ear. “Law is too soft for you. His words are too gentle, his touch is too sweet.” Doffy’s breath feels hot in your ear and you want so desperately to pull back, but you don’t want to give him that advantage over you. “Law doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. I saw how you behaved when he was acting possessive at the table. I understand you, I know what you want. And you need more than he can offer.”

Somehow his voice drops even lower, a predatory whisper that manages to bristle all the hairs on your body. “I can make you feel what it’s like to be completely owned. You’d learn quickly where you belong.” His whisper burns your skin, but the shivers running through you are as cold as ice. “Under me, or on your knees, I would bend your will with just one look. I know what you crave.”

He’s challenging you, pushing you to your limits with crass words and rude behaviour. Law told you he was inappropriate but, somehow, you didn’t expect this much. It’s terrifying, even.  

“You don’t know me.” The murmur that leaves your lips is barely heard, your voice trembles and your lip shakes, but you don’t want to be disrespectful, so you add something: “Sir.” 

His hand reaches out, and he tucks a strand of hair out of your face as he hums in satisfaction. “But I know your kind, cariño. You’re all after power. I can give you that.” You try to pull back, to step away from him and his velvety words, but he grabs your forearm, his touch commanding and domineering, making your breath hitch in your throat. “If I were with you, mi querida, I wouldn’t hesitate to bend you over the nearest surface and remind you of who you belong to. I know that’s what you most desire, to be brought to your knees with a simple look. Not to be coddled by my nephew.”

You purse your lips to suppress a gasp as his fingers dig into your skin, his grin widening into a manic smile. Your mouth opens and closes as you try to fight for air, or to find the right words. You can barely think, he scares you. He pushes you and bends you and you just don’t want to break under pressure.

You don’t have time, however, to think of a good answer because you feel a pull at your waist as a familiar safe sensation invades you and you can breathe again. “Is there something I can help you with, Uncle Doffy?”

Law’s voice is low and calm. His usually controlled demeanour takes over, however, the crease in his forehead is deep and pronounced and there’s a lingering rage underneath the surface. Doflamingo releases your arm and you wince, slipping closer to Law, moulding to the side of his body easily. 

“Not at all, Law. I was just getting acquainted with your lovely novia. There’s no need to be so possessive, is there?” He smirks as he leans back, taking a casual sip of his drink while his eyes still linger over you. 

Law’s jaw clenches and he lets out a low growl, but Doflamingo continues. 

“It’s funny,” he chuckles long and low, “it reminds me of a different time, long ago. Remember, Law? Back when you thought loyalty and love were something you could not buy?”

You’re not quite sure where Doflamingo is going with his speech, but Law’s hold on you tightens and he pulls you even closer. “That’s not important tonight, Doffy.”

“But I think it is, Law. You see, I thought I had taught you better than this. Yet it seems as if you haven’t learned. You keep seeking women who need more than you can offer. Something your soft words cannot provide. Must I teach you again what power does a firmer hand and money hold? How easy it is to make someone… change allegiances?” His eyes are menacing as he alternates between you and Law. 

You’re still very lost as to what they are referring to, yet he is getting under Law’s skin. You’ve never seen Law this discomposed. He’s almost baring his teeth at his uncle, his eyes darkening as his fingers dig deep into your waist, they will certainly bruise. 

“That’s enough, Uncle.”

“Women who seek a little power are all the same, Law.” Doflamingo’s smirk drops and he straightens up, his figure imposing as he stares at Law. “You once thought love was all it took, but all I had to do was wave a few bills. Let’s see just how long this one holds, I’m actually very interested in the challenge.” 

He speaks as if you’re not there. It’s a personal agenda he and Law have and you can almost see the tension building around them. For a sliver of a moment, Law’s mask of perfect control slips and a soft vulnerability rattles him, like he’s considering his uncle’s words. 

“Every woman has a price, Law. Whether it’s monetary, or just power and influence. I have it all.”

The way Law pulls you to him makes you wince, but you don’t pull back, it’s like they barely know you’re there. 

“Don’t compare them, Doffy.” He says your name through gritted teeth. “She and Monet are not the same.”

Monet? Who is she? Law didn’t tell you about her, though from what you can grasp of the conversation, it seems as if she was someone Law loved. And Doffy lured her away. 

How twisted.

Doflamingo leans in, his face inches away from Law’s, but he doesn’t flinch. “You know something I’ve learned, Law, is that the more I rattle you, and the more paranoid and possessive you get… the easier it becomes to steal your toys.” The manic grin on Doflamingo’s face widens before he finally falls back. He finishes his wine glass and decides to call an end to this taunting session. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Law is left staring at the spot where his uncle just stood. His face is a mix of emotions, something you’ve never witnessed before. He’s beyond rattled, he’s on the verge of losing the control he normally possesses. 

He’s still gripping you tight and it’s beginning to be unbearable, so you place your hand on his chest, trying to get him to look at you. “Law?” He doesn’t respond immediately, his throat bobbing up and down, clearly trying to regain control of his emotions. “Law you’re hurting me.” You say softly and that makes him come back.

“Sorry!” He releases you in haste, the hand that was holding you tousling his hair as he lets out a loud sigh. Then he clasps your hand in his and pulls you. “Let’s go.”

You follow him blindly. A myriad of questions burning at the back of your mind. Why does Doflamingo rattle him so much? And why is he so adamant about breaking Law? Who was Monet? What did she mean to Law? 

But mostly… is she still important to him?

|Chapter 7|

[qirongshusband]

i would like to request Todo with m!reader who has really long hair maybe to his waist or a bit shorter nsfw or fluff it doesnt mind please(ㅁㅅㅁ)

Notes ~ yeah of course! Thank you so much for the request!

MENTIONS — NSFW & SFW, hair brushing, fluff, head massaging, oral sex, blowjob/handjob, deep throating,

______๑♡⁠๑______

SFW!

Compared to Todo, you, Todo Aoi’s boyfriend had really long slick hair about as long down to your waist. It was nice, shiny, silky, smooth and just all of the above he was infatuated with your hair and loved to play or take care of it.

Of course you didn’t mind you loved when he would touch your hair, you’d also love the little comments he’d leave you when he would always compliment you or told him you was really handsome and pretty as that long hair suited you.

Currently you where sitting down on a couch the two of you recently had bought since the other once broke due to Yuuji and Aoi goofing around.. you scolded both of them very hard so hopefully that won’t happen again! You hope..as you was sitting right in front of Aoi, he was brushing your long hair and massaging your head.

Aoi had offered to brush your hair and relax you since you seemed a bit stressed out from being dispatched on so many missions. As he ran his rough large fingers through your long silky hair massaging the sides of your head you let out a soft groan of relaxation.

“Your hands, they feel nice..thank you.” You let out a soft smile of gratitude and appreciation, he was more of a softer person in private, of course you didn’t mind how he was outside of your private life with him.

It was silent but he broke the silence with a soft hum before he spoke, “as long as you feel good then I’m glad, Sweetheart.” He then smiled and let out a soft warm smile that could make your heart melt, you loved his smile he always looked so genuine and sweet.

People were usually freaked out by him for being a ‘giant brute’ or a crazy gorilla something around those lines. Of course you viewed him as incredibly strong on the battlefield that doesn’t affect how you view him outside of the battlefield. He really was a chill guy who just had a lot more energy and more passion to things than others. He was also flamboyant but that’s not a bad thing, he expresses himself differently and over all he’s a sweet and caring guy! That’s what you love about him after all, you love him for who he is.

As he felt he was around done massaging your head he continued to brush your long hair slowly and gently making sure not to tug or pull on your hair as he think that might hurt you but it really wouldn’t.. he was extremely gently with you anyways, so it wasn’t gonna hurt in anyway he did it.

As he was done brushing your hair he placed the brush down onto the wooden coffee table as he applied some hair cream to his hands and applied it into your hair for your hair to have that natural shine and no frizz. It also smelled really good, it was also one of your favorite scents! He ran your fingers through your hair to make sure it throughly got through all over your hair.

As he finished up he announced he was done, “annnnnd done! I hope it looks fine, Sweetheart. Of course if you want me to redo it I c—“ you interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, “no, it looks good. You always do a good job Aoi. Really, it’s amazing! Thank you.” He let out a big smile gently holding your hand all you could do was feel your cheeks warm up and nervously giggle.

______๑♡⁠๑______

NSFW

Not even 3 hours later you were on your knees sucking his cock. Completely deep-throating him as you jerked him off in the process. You were bobbing your head as light gagging noises could be heard, he chuckled as todo then grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you more closer to him as his pubes tickled your nose.

Tears of pleasure had filled your eyes as you looked up at him with those glossy heart-shaped pupil eyes of yours, choked muffled moans struggled to come out properly due to Todo’s cock stuffing your mouth full as well with his pre slowly filling up your throat.

Your hair by now was a complete mess from how aggressive he was being a bit aggressive with your hair but you didn’t mind..the way he pulled and tugged on your hair felt so good and you wanted more. All you could do was whimper and whine dumb blabbes onto his big cock. Poor baby.

“Good boy..keep going. Keep sucking my dick— ah..just like that..” he’s groan in between words as he spoke to you, he was looking down at you with a big lustful grin that made you wet. You were rubbing yourself against your palm as you continued to suck his cock.

Each time his cock went down your eyes rolled back and you moaned in pleasure each time, the way his mocha flushed color tip would hit the back of your throat making gags come out.

You noticed he was about to cum as you kept on going, the way his grip on your hair was more tighter and how he kept pulling you closer. You used you tongue to move up along and down his shaft as well as having your moans sending vibrations onto it causing Todo to shiver.

Todo was groaning and panting quite loudly trying to suppress himself, and with that one final move of you and he came inside your mouth and throat causing him to fill you up completely. You made sure to swallow it all after all you were his good boy, weren’t you? As you swallowed every drop you looked back up at him noticing the smile on his face…oh boy. He wasn’t done with you yet.

[jokin-around]

I made a Twitter thread about this, but I've been reading early issues of Batman lately and something I've noticed is how differently the contrast between Batman and "Bruce Wayne" is depicted

obviously, in many things today, "Bruce" (ESPECIALLY in fandom) is often depicted as a happy-go-lucky himbo in order to draw contrast with a grim and "tortured" batman

so how does this hold up when you look at older depictions? the answer: it doesn't. in fact it was almost the opposite.

way back in the very first issues of the official Batman title, Bruce Wayne, no matter WHAT he's doing, isn't the one who laughs and smiles, Batman is.

and these are comics that were published BEFORE the comics code authority caused a dramatic shift in tone

Bruce Wayne (or least the cardboard cutout refered to as Bruce Wayne) isn't nessecarily described as grim, but he isn't a very happy person either, he's still a rich airhead, but not so much a "himbo" or even a dedicated businessman, he's depicted as a BORED, uninterested, aristocrat:

this Bruce seems to spend of his time smoking a pipe at home or mingling with other upperclass individuals, that in-between we tend to see MUCH more often in modern comics doesn't seem to exist yet (in part because the batcave Is non-existent which I suspect has given him a bit more privacy as a character)

MEANWHILE Batman, who's investigates murders every other night almost seems to be having the time of his life:

the early comics seem to routinely depict the burgoise as cold, snobbish & bored, in contrast to batman who seems particularly expressive and joyful, for all we know Batman may partially exist as some millionaires weird passtime, but of course Bruce Wayne (the real guy, not the facade) is written as someone who genuinely seems to care due to his own past experiences:

but , with all of that layed out, one can conclude that when ppl say Batman is the "true persona" ect. originally, it wasn't (just) because of his coping or whatever it was because when he wasn't Batman he was forced to live life as a cold, "useless" millionaire:

"what if a rich a guy gave a fuck?" is still very much the base concept here, but what's surprising is how much BITE there is to it

the concept wasn't being proposed because it's like… a plausible thing to happen or attainable on a personal level, but because the rich reliably and consitently do not care

the rich ppl in this book, "Bruce Wayne" included, are not written to be envied as people. they're written to be insufferable. ppl with endless resources who are still somehow unsatisfied with life and choose to do nothing useful or direct with the amount wealth they've accumulated

but ofc it shouldn't be ALL THAT surprising, Batman debuted in Detective Comics in 1939…. ONE year after the great depression, Bob and Bill had more than a good reason to feel a bit bitter

but rolling back to the point of this analysis, whenever I say "let batman be happy" I mean "let Batman enjoy his job" despite the pain, despite the death, despite the murder, despite the hypocritical nature of it all and how problematic it may be because it's a life he also chooses, not just out of compulsion, but because it's hands on, direct & purposeful. it gives him something to do & it gives him a chance to punch a problem in the face (which may be good or bad depending on what that problem is, but still)

that kind of depiction is what set up the groundwork for nearly every deconstruction that's come since but it's so buried in time at this point that lines from characters claiming bruce "loves being batman" seem to ring completely hollow

tbh, I think the old way of depicting Batman can be ( and as been in some media) woven into the way he's depicted today, in the past Batman was an outlet for every emotion Bruce Wayne had to hide elsewhere, a symbol of empathy, fury and passion, for modern Batman, I imagine those three things still hold true, layered on top of an alter ego that allows a modern Bruce Wayne to be weird and damaged and dark.

so uh, ln conclusion, I think batman enjoying what he does to a certain extent is a crucial aspect of his character that's been lost and withered and forgotten about, let him a have a little fun, we can discuss the ramifications of all that when discussion seems necessary

[brat-pack-it-up-boys]

Ponyboy that was then this is now headcanons

• I’m a big believer in ponyboy continuing to dye his hair blonde after windrixville for sentimentality (also I fuck with the character design aspect)

• so his hairs died blond but it’s also grown out, its the late 1960s and greased hair is becoming even less of a thing than it was before, so his hair is choppily cut above his shoulders and it has the worst grown at roots

• he is the KING of hand me downs, more so than in the outsiders because he fits into more of the clothes that darry and soda actually saved, soda’s flannels, pants, shirts, Darry’s old jackets, he owns his shoes and that it

• okay this one goes more into the au where sodapop is drafted and killed in the Vietnam war because it technically lines up with the twttin timeline. But ponyboy would wear soda’s dog tags literally every day

• more reckless than he was in the outsiders, partially because he’s grown up and partially because of his friends and the people he surrounds himself with

• his friendgroup basically consist of the remainder of the gang, curly and Angela, mark, scout, and two bits sister Brenda I guess

• on the topic of Brenda, ponyboy basically reacreats his and Johnnys relationship with dally with her, they’re so siblings you don’t understand, the brother and sister ever

• very unpopular in school, not in a way of getting bullied but in the way of a lot of kids in his grade being scared of him

“that Curtis kid who helped kill someone”

• the beef Bryon has him is entirely one sided to the point that Ponyboy doesn’t even realize it exists

• despite not having the best reputation he’s finally grown into his looks and if it weren’t for the events of the first book he would be pulling

• Him and Cathy start dating a little bit after twttin, Cathy had been at boarding school during the entirety of the first book so she didn’t have the same stigma against him that the other kids at school

• he actually gets pretty into the Beatles after he starts dating Cathy because they’re her favorite band, he likes the please please me album

• he also adopts M&M into his little gang with Brenda (pushing my M&M and Brenda as best friends agenda)

• in the end all that really means is that he helps M&M with kids picking on him (his reputation from the whole bob incident makes him pretty intimidating), M&M and Brenda also get to tag along on some of Pony and Cathy’s dates to the movies

• honestly I could talk about him and Cathy for hours but as the youngest him dating her and realizing how much she has to do as the oldest makes him gain more of understanding for darry

• also him and Cathy’s song is definitely Do you want to know a secret

@izaacs-notdeadyet because you mentioned you wanted to hear them, sorry it took me thousand years to actually get around to posting this

[fairyhaos]

seventeen as their songs' choreographies

pls i binged their dance practices and then suddenly i was like "hey this wld make a good hc!!!!" so here we are. here's which svt song choreo (specifically just the dance movements) i think each member would be

masterlist

seungcheol

super. no, it's not just bc of the fits and stylings that he had during the comeback stages that he absolutely slayed, but the choreography itself feels weirdly like scoups: the power, the confidence and the martial arts-esque moves feel like him

jeonghan

fear. maybe a bit unexpected, but the choreo is almost dangerously beautiful and very jeonghan. it's the kind of beauty that's like watching someone's destructive downfall and being unable to look away

joshua

dream. he's just having so!!!! much!!!! fun!!!! during the choreography video but also. it's so fucking CUTE and makes me think of him like?? the swaying arms and the little bobbing up and down is adorable and He's adorable and oh lord i need to have a lie down bc it's just too cute

junhui

aju nice. the chaoticism of the choreo which looks all whirlwind-crazy before you realise that their cohesiveness is actually incredible is such a junhui thing actually. it's such a bright and messy and energetic choreo in the most polished way

hoshi

crush. the choreo has kinda gay, kinda sexy vibes and they make use of really clever positioning in triangles/ parallel lines to give it a really sleek, powerful feel. honestly it just feels like it has hoshi written all over it

wonwoo

thanks. so much of the choreo makes me think of waves crashing and falling—the canon movements, the arms, the rising and falling actions—and there's something so heart-wrenching and powerful about it.

woozi

hitorijanai. the slow gentleness, the delicacy, the arm movements that seem to connote something gentle and opening up to the world all make me think of him. woozi has always been like a fairy in my eyes, and this choreo embodies exactly that

minghao

don't wanna cry. the synchronisation and canon moves are off-the-charts levels of gorgeous. also the way they tell the story with mostly only their arm movements is mesmerising and beautiful and so elegant and yearning that it reminds me of minghao

mingyu

left & right. the choreography is just so fun to look at. like, you watch them dancing and you genuinely get an exhilarated feeling of utter joy bc the choreo is so fresh and fun and idk it just feels like a mingyu-esque dance to me

dokyeom

anyone. genuinely could Not take my eyes off this guy in particular whilst watching the choreo vid n it's bc he makes the moves look so clean, esp that part where they move the movement from the arms into the legs??? literally gorgeous.

seungkwan

mansae. the choreography is sharp and fresh and clean and sooo bright. you can positively feel the groove in the movements alone, and the way they change formation so seamlessly with such sharpness is such seungkwan vibes

vernon

clap. iconic dance practice moment aside, this rlly is unironically vernon cuz it's just such a funny and fun choreo. that part where they almost crawl across the floor has me giggling every time and the amount of body shaking is so funny to me

chan

_world. it's just- it's just a cute song with the cutest choreo ever. i don't know why it makes me think of chan oh lord but the little skippy steps that they do and the adorable hip popping is just soooo so dino coded to me

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[aha-chuu]

We the hsr community are really missing out by ignoring the aventio dynamic that is canon and funny.

Because okay. Let's be fr: Ratio has however many degrees, multiple PhDs inside that. He has a job now, obviously, but he also spent a fat while trying and failing to get Nous and the Genius Society to notice him. He's renowned and super smart and has a bunch of achievements and credentials, but that student loan debt,,, fml. And we know from Herta and Asta's dynamic that scientific endeavours aren't just automatically funded.

So for some period of time before the IPC/Intelligentsia Guild snatched him up, I imagine Ratio was bobbing along like those rubber ducks he likes so much. Not broke, exactly, but certainly in the midst of six different projects at any given time and also canonically doing TA work as well like. Relatable king.

Dr Ratio has eaten a pot noodle in his life is what I'm saying.

But that's like,,, regular financial strain. Aventurine's situation is so far removed that to talk about it in just a monetary way would be insane. His net worth was *how much he was sold for*. But you know. He didn't have rent? Aventurine wouldn't have had any concept of what was "normal" between his downtrodden upbringing and horrific early adulthood.

So what I'm saying on that unhappy note is that when Aventurine got with the IPC, it's no wonder he seems most cavalier about dishing out credits. What do they even mean to him?? Money is important and he understands its value obviously - like it's part of his job and he's smart - but his personal experience is at odds with what he knows logically.

(and in some ways, after having been assigned a monetary value himself... I don't think Aventurine can conceive of any amount of money that is worth a person's life. He'll use people as "chips" but that's different)

Anyway. When Ratio was a fresh faced IPC collaborator and stuck with Aventurine as his partner, their first mission must have been insane. Like Aventurine only knows top level IPC people's financial situations so when Ratio is just a reasonably normal guy Aventurine must have been ???? He's still new at this too, you know, does Ratio need bailing out of all this debt? (it's very regular and he's responsibly paying it off ASAP), should Aventurine get on his good side with an extravagant purchase on his own fairly new IPC issued credit card? (he chooses not to because that might flaunt it).

Ratio notices. Obviously. But the biggest issue for him is Aventurine comparative cluelessness more than actual offense. Also like Ratio is certainly NOT poor I'm sure that first IPC paycheck will polish off the student loans entirely.

It's that cluelessness that would them trigger him to try and figure out Why this clearly competent Stoneheart who is obviously very good with money would be so out of his element when faced with a normal financial situation. And Ratio is blunt so he says those words out loud but without any of those complimentary parts. Aventurine is still reeling from someone seeing through his façade.

This isn't going anywhere except Aventurine trying to be a sugar daddy for maybe four days before he clocks onto the situation properly. And Ratio isn't about to say no to paying off that student loan debt a bit faster. And eventually they're both so well compensated by the IPC that when Aventurine casually transfers everyone else 100000 credits just for being in the room, he has to come up with some insane and creative way to shock Ratio. Maybe that's where the gun light cone came from: "if I can't impress you with my shiny new wealth I will certainly do it with my luck 🤗 why are you dialling a crisis line rn"

[monstrousmuse]

I am not sure if anyone here has already made this connection or pointed this out (apologies if so), but while doing some research into Flatland/the 11 dimensions the other day, I discovered something pretty interesting…

…

In the ‘Book of Bill’ announcement video, as well as distorted, synthesised background music and the Morse Code (which has already been deciphered), we can also hear several lines of spoken dialogue, the first of which being the line: “some other mystic dimension”.

Timestamp: 0:04

Now, this line already raises several questions - which ‘dimension’ is being referring to here? And why is it considered to be ‘mystic(al)’? Well, we don’t have a definite answer to either of those questions just yet, but if you will humour me for a moment, I have a few suggestions. Either this ‘other mystic dimension’ could be referring to Bill’s own homeland, the Second Dimension (which would naturally be considered ‘other’, ‘mystic’ and generally unfamiliar to us, the readers), or perhaps, it is referring to the Third Dimension itself, or what is known as Spaceland (Height/Up) in Abbott’s novella. I think the latter to be far more likely, especially with what I am about to show you. This is where my excessive YouTube deep-diving habits came in useful.

…

During my research quest, I stumbled upon this video of the famous astronomer and science communicator Carl Sagan (take note of this name) explaining the concept of the Fourth Dimension, as well as other Flatland-adjacent things. And lo and behold, at 4:37, what do we hear?

“And the poor Square has to say: ‘Well, I was in some other mystic dimension called Up…”

Yes, that’s right. The exact words that were used in the promo video.

To provide you some context, here Sagan is recounting the experience of A Square who, with the guidance and revelations of A Sphere, has just returned from a recent foray into the Third Dimension, and is trying to explain his sudden disappearance and newfound knowledge of Height to his friends. So saying, it is likely that the ‘other mystic dimension’ being referred to in the BoB video is in fact, the Third Dimension, since this is a book that has been written from Bill’s perspective, and it seems that he will be filling in the role of A Square in this narrative, discovering the Secrets Of The Universe and all. Although, I must emphasise that this is still just speculation on my part, based on the assumption that Bill’s backstory will be pretty similar to, if not a direct retelling of Flatland:

“Flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams.”

Who knows, Alex Hirsch may just subvert our expectations entirely.

“I liberated my dimension (…)” / “Saw his own dimension burn. Misses home and can’t return.”

…

Anyway, I have another little piece of the puzzle to share. The line spoken in the announcement video isn’t merely a word-for-word recreation of what Carl Sagan said, It is Carl Sagan. They used a direct clip from an episode of Cosmos. This has me giddy with excitement, because Carl Sagan, a man with much notoriety within the scientific community, and many achievements and accolades to his name, is known to be one of Ford’s scientific idols.

The level of detail in this show, and I guess now in its extended literary canon’s advertisement material, is insane. Do with this information what you will. Perhaps there’s a connection here that will be expounded upon in the book. Perhaps it’s just a cool reference. Even so, it is a very intriguing one nonetheless, especially with the tie-ins to Flatland, theoretical physics and Ford’s hero-worshipping. It’s clearly intentional.

…

(If anyone is interested, here is an excellent meta which provides a very detailed exploration and analysis of Ford’s respective connections to Sagan and Tesla.)

[bluebeary-jay]

Midnight kisses

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Jackson celebrates the New Year’s Eve, and you're thinking about finally confessing to your crush how much you like him. but Joel Miller, the object of your affections, might have other plans in mind. (based on this adorable request!!)

Tags: FLUFF my beloved 🥰, Joel is very flirty in this one, lots of crushinggg, just old sweet mutual pining (also they're both lovesick idiots)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk, jealousy, age difference

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: i had a lot of fun with this one 🥰 thank you so much once again for the request, dear, i hope you'll like what i came up with. (btw this was supposed to be a short fic but it seems i'm unable to write one 😔) still i hope yall will like it and as always, happy reading!! 💕

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The party was in a full swing.

You didn’t expect anything else from the Jackson community. Ever since you arrived here, you were astounded by the effort that the people living in this small town were making to create a life as normal and joyous as possible – for their children and themselves. And today, on New Year’s Eve, they outdid themselves. There was food, music and drinks – almost as if the apocalypse outside those walls never happened.

You were sitting by one of the tables, sipping on your beverage while you waited for your friend, Angie, to arrive. Dancing alone didn’t sound like an appealing idea, so while you waited for her, you opted for some people-watching – though if you were honest with yourself, it was more like ‘person-watching’.

Your eyes strayed to a figure on the opposite side of the room for like a twentieth time, but you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to. Because there stood a man who still, even after more than a year of knowing him, made the butterflies in your stomach take flight.

Joel Miller.

He looked really good in a clean flannel and fitting jeans, you conceded. His hair was slightly wet, like he washed it just before coming to the party, and combed a little to the back, making the silver strands in his hair and beard shine in the low lights. You found yourself unable to look away or get rid of that stupid grin on your face that lingered when Joel smiled lopsidedly at something his brother said. The muscles in his arm bulged when he lifted his glass to take a sip, and you watched the lines of his neck when his throat bobbed...

“You’re ogling,” murmured a voice next to your ear, and you jumped a little in surprise. Next to you stood Angie, smirking at you.

“Jesus, Angie.” You put your hand on your chest, your heart pounding rapidly. “A ’hello’ would be nice.”

Your friend knew, of course, about your massive crush on Joel Miller, and you thought more than a year of pining on your part would cause her to grow bored of all the jokes and teasing that she threw your way. Apparently, you were wrong.

“Hello,” she said, then sat down on the other chair and leaned closer to you with a wide smile. “You’re ogling. In a room full of people, may I add.”

“I’m not,” you murmured defensibly, but your face grew warm at the realization that she caught you. “How long have you been standing here, anyway?”

“Like half a minute. By the way, you’re also drooling.”

“I’m not!” you repeated, now in an irritated whisper. You knew you weren’t drooling, but still had to refrain yourself from wiping your mouth, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. “Stop making things up.”

“You should just go talk to him.” Angie casually nodded in Joel’s direction. “He didn’t come with a date, sooo…”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s waiting for someone.”

“Uh, duh!” Angie flicked you on the forehead, and you hissed. “For you to make a move. You can… oh, I know!” she bounced in her seat excitedly and clapped her hands. “Ask him to dance with you!”

You almost snorted. “Joel Miller dancing? Sure. He wouldn’t agree even if he did like me.”

“He does like you. Jesus, you flirt with each other all the time.” The smile disappeared from her lips and she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice. And maybe dead.”

“There’s no flirting, I told you.” You took a sip of your drink, glancing at the object of your affection. “He talks in this way to everyone.”

“He never called me ‘darling’,” Angie retorted. “Or gave me his jacket when we got caught up in the rain.”

You smiled softly at the memory, but that just made you feel even more hopeless, because since that day, you weren’t able to have a normal conversation with the man you liked so much.

“What do I do?” you whined, leaning on the table. “He’s so beautiful. And he for sure doesn’t see me that way.”

“Are you drunk already? You said you didn’t want a repeat from–”

“–from last year, yeah,” you finished for her and sighed. “I’m not drunk, just feeling down. There’s no way I’ll be able to tell him I like him, Angie.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.” Your friend nudged you gently. “You can just inconspicuously take him under one of the mistletoe and go ‘oh, what’s that?’, and then…”

“What mistletoe?” you asked, only now looking up at the ceiling where familiar-looking leaves were tied with a string to the support beams under the ceiling and above the doors. “Why is there mistletoe hanging?” you asked skeptically. “It’s a New Year’s Eve party.”

“I think they haven’t taken it down since last week.” Angie shrugged, but then grinned at you. “Don’t you think it’s a sign, though? So many places to kiss your crush under~...”

“Jesus, keep your voice down,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands again. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” she mocked in a low voice. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know, babe,” you whined, and sighed heavily again. “You know what, maybe I should just forget it. Let’s go have fun, dance, and later throw up from all the food and…”

Suddenly, Angie interrupted you with a high noise in her throat. You gave her a questioning look and she looked at you with a tight-lipped smile and wide eyes.

“He’s coming here.”

“What?!” You automatically turned around before Angie hissed for you not to look, and sure enough, there was Joel Miller, making his way through the crowd with his eyes locked on you. “Oh my god,” you breathed, clutching at your friend’s hand. “He must’ve seen us talking. What do I do?”

“You sit there and look smoking hot, and let him flirt with you,” she answered with confidence you didn’t feel. “And maybe you won’t even need to ask for the kiss, maybe he’ll do it for–” Her eyes darted above your shoulder. “Oh, hey, Miller.”

You gulped and took a deep breath before turning around and– oh, God, he looked even better up close.

Angie kicked you lightly under the table when you didn’t say anything, and you cleared your throat, smiling up at the man you were so crazy about. “Uhm, hi, Jo– Mr Miller.”

“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name, sugar?” He had kind of a boyish smile on his face that made him look younger and even more handsome, which in turn made your stomach fill with warmth. He sat down next to you, and his eyes scanned you down and back up, slowly, lingering on your legs and curves just for a second longer. “You look lovely.” He then glanced at Angie, sending her a nod. “Both of you.”

“Really?” you beamed, and Angie kicked your ankle again, making you wince. “Uhm, thanks. You clean up nicely yourself.”

A trace of smirk ran across his face, but it was gone before you could make sure it was really there in the first place.

“Are you enjoyin’ the party?” he asked casually, hiding one hand in the front pocket of his jeans. Your eyes followed his movement before you caught yourself.

“Y-yeah, it’s nice. A little too loud for me, but really nice.”

“Maybe you wanna step outside for a bit, then?” Joel nodded in the direction of the deck in the back, and your heart started beating faster.

Did he want to be alone with you? Or was just being polite and preferred to talk somewhere quieter, and you were getting your hopes up unnecessarily? You hoped it was the first, that he genuinely enjoyed chatting with you as much as you did with him – but you never knew with a man like Joel Miller. He was an enigma, sometimes serious and so stoic that you couldn’t for the world figure out what was going on in his head, and other times charming and teasing, making you weak in the knees when he was looking at you with that fiery glint in his eyes…

“Sugar?” Joel asked, lifting his eyebrows with what seemed to be amusement, and you cursed yourself mentally for spacing out.

“Sorry, I… Yes, let’s– sure, let’s go.”

All of you stood up and you looked over your shoulder at Angie with a panicked face, but instead of reassuring you, she sent you a quick, sly grin.

“You two go ahead,” she chirped. “I’m gonna go look for my date.”

“Angie–” you whispered, giving her a look, but the woman just winked and turned around, disappearing into the crowd of dancing people. “Angie!”

Before you could go after her, you felt a big, warm hand on the small of your back, and your entire body tensed. Joel leaned over to your ear, whispering in a low voice.

“Shall we?”

“Yeah,” you squealed, so quietly he probably didn’t hear it over the loud music. “Sure.”

Your legs moved on their own, going where he guided you. The walk to the terrace in the back lasted no longer than fifteen seconds, but it felt like hours had passed. You were very aware of the light pressure of his fingertips on your back, with only one layer of material separating your skin from his, and the nerves of feeling him so close behind you were making you walk stiffly and oddly – though, miraculously, he didn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t like how loud the music is, either,” Joel said after you two exited the main room, and he closed the door. Then he glanced at you again, his eyes flicking to your bare legs just for a second longer. “Are you cold?”

“No,” you answered truthfully. Not only was it nice to feel the cool air after sitting in a stuffy room with a crowd of people for so long, but also you still felt warm from Joel’s closeness. “I’m alright.” Joel nodded absentmindedly, and you squinted. “Did you want to talk about something or…”

“Nah, just wanted to escape for a minute.” He rubbed his beard and shrugged, but there was tightness to his body language. “Not much to do in there except for drinkin’.”

“And dancing,” you cut in.

Joel glanced at you, and the lazy smirk returned onto his features.

“You like to dance, sweet girl?” he asked, and you felt your face growing hot when you heard his tone. Low, drawling and oh, so delicious.

“If the party is good, yes, I guess so.” Then you remembered what Angie suggested earlier, and you took a shaky breath, mustering all the courage you had in you. “We… if you want, we could dance a little later, if they play something nice…?”

But the hot nerves in your chest turned to cold disappointment when Joel started to shake his head with a chuckle. “Nah, darlin’. Sorry, I don’t… I’m no dancer.”

“Noone here is,” you retorted, a bit hurt by how quick his rejection was. “It’s just for fun.”

“I know better ways to have fun than t’make an idiot of myself in front of bunch of people.”

“Like what?”

Of course, you just had to ask.

Joel smirked, as if he was just waiting for it, and took a step forward, forcing you to take one backwards. His brown eyes bored into yours, making you weak in your knees, and you promptly turned your gaze away, not able to withstand the tension in the air. With a cough, you walked up to the wooden railing, pretending that you weren’t feeling sheepish at all.

“For one, talkin’ here with you is fun enough for me.”

You forced yourself to look at Joel when you heard it, just to see if he’s joking, but the man appeared genuine. He leaned against the rails, his hand right next to your shoulder, and you couldn’t get rid of the thought of how easy it’d be for him to cage you in this spot with his strong arms, how he’d make your entire body tremble…

But you weren’t quite sure yet if he was being sweet or just tried to mess with you, so you decided that a teasing response would be the best course of action.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged lightly. “I’d still like to find someone to dance with tonight.”

At that, Joel’s hand gripped the railing tighter and his body stiffened. You had to hide a triumphant smirk on your face, pleased that you managed to throw him off his game – whatever it was that he was playing.

“One of your friends?” In your peripheral vision you saw him lifting his eyebrows with the faintest of scowls. “Or one of those shady guys sittin’ at the bar, staring at pretty girls like you? ’Cause they’re no good for you, darlin’.”

“Oh, really?” you scoffed and lifted your chin, feeling touched that Joel was acting so protective – (and maybe even… jealous?) – about what you said. “You were the one that didn’t want to dance. What do you know about what’s good for me, anyway?”

“Those guys won’t treat you right. They just want a girl to spend the night with, and you deserve better than that.”

He was right, of course, but it didn’t mean you were going to openly give him his due. You made an acknowledging noise, not really sure what to say, but Joel didn’t seem to mind. He continued in a quiet, raspy voice that sent shivers down your spine. “You deserve someone who’d take real good care of you, darlin’. Not some drunk out of their ass idiot.”

“Are you drunk, Mr Miller?” you asked, not looking at him in fear he’ll see how red his words made you, though you could still see his smirk in the corner of your eye.

“No.”

“You act like you are.”

“C’mon, sugar, look at me.” He took your chin between his fingers and your body went rigid. His warm gaze met yours for just a second, and he tilted his head forward a little. “Do I look drunk?”

“A little.” You turned your head away, but he tsked and guided your chin back.

“In the eyes, darlin’.” You gulped at his words, and his dark, brown irises twinkled in the fairy lights dangling from the roof and walls. “And call me Joel, please.”

His chest was almost touching yours, and you felt the wooden railing digging into your lower back, but at that moment you didn’t mind at all. Joel was so close, and your breath hitched in your throat when you got enveloped in his earthy smell, with a tinge of bonfire and… was that cologne? For some reason the discovery that he used cologne for tonight made your heart flutter.

But as much as you loved every second of being so close to him, you remembered that you weren’t alone on the terrace. There was a pair of people talking – well, now kissing, judging by the sound of it – and your eyes darted to the side to see if they were looking at you both. “Come on, there are people here. It’s not…”

The man clicked his tongue in disapproval and moved slightly closer, now practically pinning you against the railing with his body, and you squealed unwillingly when he, once again, made you look at him.

“Eyes on me.”

And God, if it wasn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen or heard. It was unfair how much power his gaze and tone wielded over you.

“Okay,” you managed to whimper, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards, creating that adorable dimple in his cheek.

“And my name, sugar.”

You didn't know why you were complying so easily, but something about the softness and tenderness in his voice made you feel safe. He wouldn’t hurt you, of that you were absolutely sure.

“Okay, Joel.”

His thumb brushed the edge of your bottom lip with the softest of touches, making your legs almost turn to jelly. It made you want to say his name again, though in a much more needy tone.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel murmured with a smirk, never looking away.

Lord, have mercy.

You were so grateful for the wooden rails behind your back, because you were sure you’d collapse any second now if he kept looking at you like that.

“I… Joel…”

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” he murmured without taking his eyes off of you for even a second. Your brain was mush at this point, but even if you could formulate any words, you doubt you’d ask him to step away. So you settled on shaking your head slightly, to which Joel nodded. “Lemme know immediately if it changes, darlin’.”

How could you be so blind? All you could think about was that Angie was right – there was no way Joel Miller wasn’t flirting with you. Maybe he even liked you. Maybe – just maybe – he wanted to kiss you just as much as you wanted to kiss him.

“Didn’t you wanna… get back to the party?”

You didn’t make any move to get away yourself, however, not wanting him to drop the arm with which he was holding your chin. The material of his shirt was bulging over the lines of his biceps, and it felt really nice to stand so close to him.

“I’m in no rush.” Joel’s voice dipped, and your insides tightened. “You?”

“No, but–”

“Here you are, you ol’ fucker!”

Joel took a step back, and you both turned to see his younger brother walking clumsily through the door with a big, drunken grin on his face. You cleared your throat, still breathless and blushed, but both Millers didn’t pay you any mind anymore.

“Tommy.” Joel’s face was like made out of stone, but his eyes were betraying how irritated he was with the interruption.

“You thought you’d manage to get away, ya old dog?” Tommy hooked an arm around his older brother’s shoulders and finally looked at you to send you a wink. “Sorry, sweetheart, gotta borrow ‘im for a second. He has a date to get to.”

It took you a couple of seconds to register that yes, you heard him right. A heavy veil of hurt and disbelief slowly fell down on you, and your eyes started to prickle as you looked from Tommy to Joel.

“A date?”

He had a date. Why then did he talk and act this way with you, making you feel like you ever had a chance with him?

“C’mon, don’t keep a lady waiting,” Tommy said to Joel instead of answering you, and tugged the other man back inside, but Joel didn’t move. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even get lucky tonight!”

That you couldn’t listen to.

Trying to hide how painful his words were to you, you ducked your head and tried to slip past the brothers, desperate to get out of here. A hand – which felt so achingly familiar now – shot out and grabbed your elbow before you could escape. You lifted your tearful eyes only to meet Joel’s sorrowful ones.

“Darlin’, wait. It’s not…”

“No, it’s okay,” you interrupted him, tearing your gaze away. “I wanted to go to the bathroom, anyway.”

Joel looked like he wanted to say something else, but you couldn’t bear being in his and Tommy’s presence any longer. You slipped out of his grasp, quickly coming back inside and navigating your way to the bathrooms.

He had a date for tonight. And still he flirted with you and touched you so lovingly, and… and almost…

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! To think you ever had a chance.

You dashed into the bathroom and quickly opened the first free stall you saw, then shut it behind you. There you just slumped against the wall and wrapped your arms around yourself, giving in to the flow of your tears, but trying not to make a sound.

You felt so foolish for letting yourself fall under Joel Miller’s spell, for ignoring that he obviously couldn’t be interested in someone like you.

He probably saw you as a dumb child. No wonder he’d prefer someone else, probably a woman closer to his own age.

But why did he have to be so cruel, to lead you on and hint that…

No, you realized. It was your own damn fault for letting your heart justify his every action towards you.

Almost ten minutes must’ve passed before you got a grip on yourself and decided to go find Angie. You needed to talk to someone, preferably distract yourself from the unpleasant situation you had to experience, and maybe try to salvage the evening somehow. With that in mind you took a couple of breaths, wiped your eyes and then hesitantly exited the bathroom.

You only managed to take a couple of steps, however, before your eyes were drawn to a familiar and beautiful side profile. You wished you didn’t know his face so well, because then you wouldn’t see Joel whispering something to a stunning woman you didn’t know at the far end of the room. She was hanging off his arm, bright eyes and a million-dollars smile directed solely at him. Joel appeared to be looking around, but a few seconds later he put his hand on the small of the woman’s back – just as he did earlier with you – and started walking. Neither of them looked your way before exiting through the front door and leaving the party.

As well as a gaping hole in your heart.

*****

A few minutes later you managed to find Angie. You were a mess at this point, barely able to stop yourself from sobbing. It was truly pathetic.

“I don’t know her name. But I saw them leaving, and she was hanging off his arm and–” you choked on your words and gave a humorless laugh. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m so sorry, hon.” Angie looked at you sadly. “We can ditch the party if you want. Go to my place and watch some movies,” she suggested gently, but you were already shaking your head.

“No, no. I’m fine, really, I… I think I'll just go home. But you should stay with your girlfriend.” Angie looked like she was about to protest, but you squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I promise I’m okay. I’m just gonna go straight back home and lock myself inside with a bowl of ice-cream. Or go to sleep.”

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“I… I think I need to.” You gave her a weak, sad smile, and stood up. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? You have fun, I don’t want to ruin your night, too.”

“You’re not ruining anythi–”

“I mean… this. All of this stuff with,” you swallowed heavily, “him.”

Angie still seemed unconvinced, but finally nodded after a while. “Alright. But come and get me if you feel worse.”

“I promise. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded, then went towards the side exit and out into the snowy night without looking back. You didn’t want to stay here and watch as all those happy couples share sweet kisses at midnight, thus reminding you of your heartbreak.

This time you had your coat on, but it was far too thin for this kind of weather. You wrapped it tighter around yourself and hid your hands in the pockets, starting to make your way home. It was a bit far from the main square, but you needed to get away from the music and laughter of the partygoers as quickly as possible.

Alas, you only managed to walk one street away when out of nowhere, a big hand grabbed your elbow, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait.”

You turned around and took a step backwards at the same time, freeing your arm with a strong tug. The words full of anger were ready to spill out of your mouth, but that was until you saw who stood in front of you with a painful expression.

The last person you expected to see here.

“Joel?” You whispered surprisedly and looked around, but there was no one else nearby. Not that strange woman you saw him with, at least. “What are you doing here?”

“I was lookin’ for you,” he rasped between gasps, like he ran all the way here. “You weren’t at the party.”

“Why were you… What are you doing here?” you repeated more coldly, the sight of him only making your fresh heartache so much more noticeable. “I thought you left.”

“M’so sorry.” Joel’s beautiful dark eyes were full of sadness and weariness. “I would have never left you if I could help it, darlin’.”

He took half a step forward and lifted his hand slightly to graze yours with his icy-cold fingertips. You weren’t wearing any gloves either, so his touch sent a jolt up your arm. You looked down at it, but gently moved your hand away. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you have a… date?”

“No.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. You avoided his eyes and instead watched as snowflakes landed and melted in his hair. “No, it was Tommy… You saw how drunk he was, and he wanted to set me up, insisted on talking to that girl, but I…”

“You should get back to her, then,” you said dryly, really not having strength to even hide how hurtful his mere presence was. You went past him, hiding your neck in your coat. “I don’t want to keep you from–”

“Darlin’, wait.” Joel grabbed your arm again, though still gently and without any force. “Listen, she was nice, but I told her that I can’t get involved in anythin’, because I…” He faltered slightly when you looked him in the eyes, for the first time since your talk on the terrace. “There is… it’s– fuck.” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, as if gathering courage. “There is someone else,” he finally spoke, his voice almost trembling, and looked at you again, “that I’m madly in love with. And it’s you.”

Through the open door to the party someone shouted what sounded like the time, but it was all happening in the background of your mind. All you could focus on was Joel, standing so close to you and looking almost scared as he waited for your reaction.

Cold crept up your limbs and up to your cheeks while you tried to digest what the hell you just heard, but as if held by the invisible force of his gaze, you couldn’t move an inch.

“...what?”

“I… really, really like you,” Joel whispered, his dark and sad eyes drilling into your unbelieving ones. “I went to this party just to see you, darlin’. And I’d never chose to spend the evenin’ with anyone else but you. I’m so sorry I left you like that and…”

He then gulped and very slowly lifted his hand to your face, not fully cupping your cheek but hovering just above it. He searched your eyes, but when you didn’t back away, he touched your skin carefully, and an involuntary sigh escaped you as your eyes fluttered closed.

You never thought one could be touched with such care and fondness. No one has ever treated you like that before, like you were made of the most precious glass.

“You can tell me to fuck off,” Joel whispered, and you opened your eyes to find his face a little closer than before. “I just thought that maybe… if you would maybe, too…”

He was getting flustered again, and it was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. It must’ve been close to midnight now, because you noticed that the music stopped and the racket inside the building was at its peak, though it was hard to distinguish the words people were shouting when your heartbeat was almost deafening in your ears.

“But I saw you leaving with that woman.” You had to make sure you were on the same page with him before you did something idiotic. Again. “You aren’t…?”

“No,” Joel breathed a quiet chuckle and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, while his eyes danced across your face. “It’s only ever been you, darlin’.”

Then he must’ve heard something – his head turned to the side to look at where the party was still going on, before his eyes returned to you, and you felt his thumb swiping your cheek in an oh, so tender manner.

“May I?” he asked in a whisper, so close that his breath skimmed your parted lips. You hoped he was asking about what you thought, but this time wasn’t brave enough to ask and clarify.

So you just nodded.

And Joel leaned in, without any hurry, and kissed you.

It was fitting, you supposed, that only a couple of seconds later the clock chimed midnight, and shrieks of laughter and cheers filled the air while the people still present at the party celebrated loudly. You couldn’t care less, however, because in that moment, your entire world was Joel. His – still cold – hand caressed your scorching cheek, and the other found its place on your hip. The smell of him, the warmth with which his body radiated, and the feeling of his lips, rougher in touch than you’ve imagined, but still soft in movement – all of it together was almost overwhelming.

You parted after a while with blissful sighs, though didn’t move away – Joel still held you close, his forehead pressed to yours, and eyes shut tightly, as if he was in pain. He took a trembling breath when you touched his jaw with your icy fingers.

“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded in a murmur, taking you aback. “Sugar, if you don’t… Please, tell me to stop.”

You shook your head and held onto him tighter before he even finished.

“Please, don’t stop.”

Your lips clashed again, tongues meeting and dancing together, and it was the closest you’ve ever felt to any type of heaven in this cruel, forsaken world. Joel pulled you flush against him and kissed you again, more forcefully this time, tangling his fingers in your hair. You let out an involuntary moan, but his mouth swallowed the sound immediately, not giving you a split second of respite.

“I wanted to do it a year ago,” Joel muttered between the kisses, before he took your face in his hands to look you in the eyes properly. He smiled, that same adorable and boyish smile, when he saw how breathless and flushed you were. “Wanted to kiss you so much, sugar, but,” he obviously fought back a laugh at this point, his eyes crinkling, “you got wasted and puked your guts out just before midnight.”

“Oh my god.” You didn’t know he saw it, particularly the moment when all the alcohol you consumed a year ago refused to stay in your stomach. “I wasn’t– I don’t usually… I got drunk ‘cause I saw Sheryll kissing you on the cheek,” you admitted with embarrassment, feeling your skin growing even hotter. “I thought you and her were together at that point…”

“But why did you get drunk because of it, sweet girl?” Joel mused, brushing his nose against yours and obviously teasing you. You snorted and shook your head.

“You know why.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

You playfully pushed him away lightly, but he tightened his grip around you, not letting you step away.

“You’re an asshole sometimes,” you whispered, making Joel chuckle. “Fine. I really wanted to kiss you, too. Happy?”

He smiled and kissed you again, softly and passionately this time, cradling your cheek in his palm.

“Very,” he whispered against your lips and dragged his nose up to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Very much, baby.”

Your heart fluttered with joy at his affectionate tone. Joel pulled away, his hands leaving your body to cover your own, situated on his jaw and arm.

“Now, what do you say we head back inside?” he asked with a disarming smile, brushing your knuckles with his thumbs. “And maybe you’ll let me ask you for a dance?”

You didn’t give an answer, but the joyous kiss you pressed to his lips – which, with your enthusiasm, almost made both of you topple over into the snow – spoke for itself.