#this is the closest they've physically been on screen

[drawnbinary]

THEY'RE SITTING TOGETHER

[slutt4lovee]

selfish boy - pt. 2 (b.b. & s.r.)

𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒 - 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

pairing: bucky barnes x steve rogers x fem!reader

word count: 8016

warnings: SMUT, MMF threesome, poly relationship, sub!reader/bucky, dom!steve, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m+f), praise (as always), overstimulation, a smidge of praise, fingering, handjobs, bi!bucky, bi!steve, mentions of reader being used (idk what that kink is called). petnames used for reader: honey, princess, sweetheart, and i think baby.

summary: after being apart from your boys for so long they've missed you a lot but you have way too much work to do.

When the people at your work had caught wind of you and Steve dating, they stopped sending you out together so that there was never a conflict of interest on a mission. You were simultaneously thankful and pissed off about it. On the one hand, you could remain blissfully ignorant to Steve’s idiotic heroics, but on the other, you almost never got to see him. If you were home he was most likely gone and vice versa, so you really didn’t blame Steve for messing around with Bucky—hell, you’d thought about it yourself more than once.

You used to do most of your missions with Bucky—who wasn’t allowed to work with Steve either. But now your bosses have started to notice some…suspicious behaviors amongst you, Steve, and Bucky. They noticed all the lingering touches, the longing stares, the incredibly fucking obvious flirting amongst the three of you. And in an excess of caution, they stopped sending Bucky with you too.

You wouldn’t have minded so much if it didn’t mean that now you hardly saw either of them. 

This was the first time that the three of you had been home at the same time in weeks, maybe even months. 

You had only just gotten back from a two week long mission a few days ago and both of them were gone before you left. Steve got back from his ‘extended trip’ not but about a day or two before you and Bucky got back from his just after you left. All that to say, this is the first time you’ve physically seen the pair of them in a while and of fucking course, you were drowning in paperwork.

It fucking sucked. A lot. 

All you wanted was to spend time with them, you wanted to devote your complete attention to them and you just couldn’t. You had ‘responsibilities’ and stupid shit like that. 

The closest you could get to spending time with them was sitting on the floor, doing paperwork at your coffee table while Steve and Bucky get to snuggle up on the couch together. You hated it. Not just because you were feeling left out but because they were insanely distracting.

Always touching each other (and you) whenever they could, watching their stupid movies too loud because they don’t believe in proper hearing protection. And talking, so much fucking talking about everything. As much as you loved it usually, you were really trying to get your work done and they were just not helping. 

You could hear them whispering to each other, Bucky’s little soft laughter and something akin to scolding from Steve. You huff out an aggravated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you stare at the blank form on your computer screen. You just wanted to finish your work and they were making it impossible.

“Honey,” Steve sighs and you can hear him moving behind you but you don't look. You need to focus. “You’re so stressed.”

“Take a break,” Bucky chimes in and before you can even formulate a denial there’s warm hands on your shoulders, squeezing and kneading at your tense muscles.

“Steve…” You try to say it like a warning but it comes out more like an encouragement. “I’m busy.”

“Been busy all day, take a break.” Steve tells you, more of a command than a suggestion this time. 

Since the whole thing with Bucky went down, dynamics between you and Steve have…changed, to say the least. Before, you were always the dominant one and you didn’t want it any other way. But then you saw the way Steve was with Bucky and let's just say…you were curious. 

At first you weren’t the biggest fan of it, but after a little experimentation you found it wasn’t so bad. You’re still the dominant one about 98% of the time but sometimes, Steve will catch you in the right headspace and you’ll just melt like putty in his hands.

This is one of those times.

“Got so much work to do,” You try to protest but you’re already leaning back into his touch, making soft little sounds as his thumbs press into the tight muscles of your shoulders.

“Do it later,” This time the coaxing comes from Bucky and you feel the cold metal of his hand pulling yours from your laptop so he can shut it for you.

“Come on,” Steve practically coos, thumbs sliding up to rub at the back of your neck. “Bucky’s missed you so much baby, you’re not gonna neglect him any longer, are you?” Fuck, Steve is manipulative. 

“I’m not…” You sigh out, tilting your head back into Steve’s touch as your eyes flutter shut. “M’not trying to.” 

“No, I know baby,” Steve soothes, thumbs rubbing circles at the tense muscles at the base of your skull. He leans down and you feel his lips pressing against the side of your head, just above your ear. “I know you’re not trying to but you’ve been home for days and you’ve barely given him any attention. You know he gets needy.” Steve whispers, lips quirking into a little smirk at the little whiny noise Bucky makes at his words.

“I know, I’m just…I’m busy,” You whine, turning your head to look back at Steve.

“I know princess, you are so busy,” Bucky murmurs, running his fingers along your jaw to turn your attention to him. “I just missed you.”

“Missed you too, Buck.” You whisper, eyes going all soft as his hand cradles your jaw. 

You’re aware that you’ve been neglecting them a little and you hated it. You weren’t meaning to, you want nothing more that to give them every ounce of your attention but you really are just so fucking busy. The boys probably had just as much paperwork as you but they just ignored it in favor of spending time together. They were valuable assets, they had powers and skills you didn’t, they didn’t have to work as hard as you did to keep their spots on the team. They had the luxury of pushing off their work for each other, you didn’t.

“C’mon pretty baby,” Steve sighs, sliding his hands under your shoulders and pulling you up onto the couch before you can protest. “You’re thinking too much.” 

“Yeah, gotta shut off the pretty head of yours.” Bucky agrees, letting his hand fall from your face as Steve tugs you up into his lap.

“Menaces,” You huff out, rolling your eyes affectionately as Steve positions you on his lap with your thighs spread over his. “Both of you.”

Steve shushes you, pressing his lips to your temple as his hands run down your sides. You let your head fall back onto his shoulder, gaze flicking down to meet Bucky’s where he kneels between yours and Steve’s legs. He smirks back up at you, a knowing look in his eyes as he watches you practically melt against Steve.

You know you shouldn’t, you should tell them to fuck off and get back to your work but they were just so fucking convincing. Not that it really took much effort to convince you anyway. You never could deny them anything, not for long at least.

Steve’s hands slip between your legs, pressing his palms against the soft flesh of your inner thighs to spread your legs a little more. Your legs drape on either side of his, forced open by his hands and his thighs and honestly, you aren’t complaining even if it hurts a little. 

You had a habit of walking around in a t-shirt, usually about three sizes too big, and your underwear and nothing else and Steve plans to take full advantage of your attire. He nudges your shirt up until it's bunched up around your hips and Bucky gets a clear shot between your legs, already practically drooling at the sight. 

Steve mutters something against your neck but you don't hear it, too lost in the way Bucky’s looking up at you from between your legs. He doesn’t touch but you can tell he wants to, you’d let him if you were the one in charge right now. But you’re not, Steve is, and Steve has a track record of being just a bit meaner than you are. 

“Are you even listening?” Steve chuckles, nipping at the little spot where your neck and shoulder meet to try and get your attention.

“Not really,” You answer honestly, shifting your hips a little to lean back against Steve’s chest. 

“Still thinking too much, huh princess?” Bucky asks, teasing and cocky in the way he always is, the way you love. He smirks and tilts his head, meeting your gaze with an impossibly arrogant look in his eyes for someone kneeling on the ground.

“She never stops thinking,” Steve mutters and you can’t see it but you think he shares a little smirk with Bucky.

They’re talking about you like you’re not even here and…you hate to admit it but it’s kind of hot. Steve’s hands squeeze at your inner thighs, running his thumb over the soft skin as he chuckles against your neck. 

“Make her stop,” Bucky suggests, looking over your shoulder at Steve, a little manipulative pout on his lips that always gets him what he wants.

“Patience,” Steve huffs out a soft laugh but concedes to Bucky’s suggestion. It had been his plan anyway.

Before your brain can even catch up to the conversation, Steve’s hand is slipping higher between your legs. His hand is so big it covers your entire cunt as he cups you through your panties. Your hips jerk a little, thighs tensing and trying to press together around his legs.

“Yeah?” Steve chuckles, voice soft and condescending in your ear.

He doesn’t move his hand for a while, just keeps it pressed firmly against your cunt, smirking at the way you push your hips against his touch. He likes to take his time with you, likes to toy with you and get you all needy and whiny for him and then maybe he’ll give you what you want. (but probably not)

He lets you grind against his hand for a while, kisses practically every inch of your neck as he watches your hips jerk against his hand. It’s not enough pressure, he knows that, you know that, fuck, Bucky probably knows it too, but they just like to watch you work yourself up. And you…well you just like the way it feels. 

Your head falls back on Steve’s shoulder, huffing out a shaky breath as your hands clutch at both of his wrists. Everytime you push your hips forward to get more pressure he moves his hand away until you’re back in the position he put you in. It’s maddening, insanely frustrating to work yourself up over and over only to be left hanging once it finally starts to feel like something. And yet you just keep doing it.

“Steve,” You whine, nails digging into the skin of his wrists to try and keep his hand where you want it. But he’s stronger, so much fucking stronger than you, you can’t force him to do shit.

“Shh, be still,” He whispers against your neck, running his tongue over your pulse point just to watch the way your hips jerk in response. “Bucky’s watchin’’ you honey, don’t you want to give him a good show?” 

That gets your attention more than you’d like to admit. You lift your head up, fluttering your eyes open only to be met with Bucky’s, staring up at you from between your legs. You groan at the sight, gripping a little tighter at Steve’s wrists as your hips twitch against his hand.

Bucky looks fucking hot. Eyes half lidded, lips puffy and raw from his constant biting at his lip. His cheeks are flushed red and fuck, he looks like he wants to eat you alive and you fucking love it.

Steve notices your reaction and can’t help the little proud smirk on his lips at the two of you. His hand leaves your thigh for a second, grasping your right hand and holding it out for Bucky who understands immediately because Steve’s trained him well. Bucky shifts closer, ducking his head into your hand as your fingers thread into his hair. He blinks up at you and Steve, lips parting at you gently tug his head to the side until his face is pressed against the inside of Steve’s thigh.

“Good girl,” Steve chuckles, smiling proudly at how well you handle Bucky before he’s reaching forward and running his fingers over Bucky’s jaw. He doesn’t have to tell Bucky to stay like that, he already knows.

Steve pulls your hand away from Bucky’s hair and tugs you back against his chest. He barely even gives you a second to get settled before he’s pressing his hand firmly against your cunt, running his fingers over the now damp fabric of your panties. Your breath catches and your head falls back immediately, nails digging into the flesh of his wrist as he rubs slow circles over your underwear.

He does that for a while, just long enough to have to panting and bucking your hips against his hand again. And Bucky’s watching the whole thing from between your legs, looking up at you like he wants to tear you apart and it’s only making you more impatient and needy. Which, you suspect, might be what they wanted.

Just as you open your mouth to say something, Steve slips his fingers to the side, tracing a very very gentle line up the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You spread your legs a little impatiently, shifting your hips against his with a breathy whine to try and get him to hurry up. Steve just huffs out a condescending little laugh against the skin of your neck before his fingers hook under your panties and he shifts them to the side. Doesn’t even bother trying to take them off, pulls them to the side just enough to get what he wants and fuck if that’s not one of the hottest things he’s ever done. 

He runs his fingers over your slit once or twice before he’s pressing the pad of his middle finger against your clit. He doesn’t tease this time, he rubs his fingers over your clit like it’s muscle memory. The perfect pressure, speed, pattern, everything and the little whiny noises you’re making only seem to encourage him further. 

He whispers something against your neck and presses a slow kiss to your skin but you’re not paying any fucking attention. Your head is tilted back against his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open as you huff out little breathless whines and noises pretty enough to drive the two of them fucking insane.

Steve’s fingers slide a little lower and before you can even react to the loss of stimulation, he’s pushing two fingers into your cunt and pressing his palm against your clit.

“Oh fuck,” You groan out, tightening your grip on his wrist as your hips immediately jerk forward against his touch.

It feels fucking amazing. He pushes his fingers deep into your cunt, stretching you just enough to make your breathing stutter as you grind your clit against his hand. You’re half tempted to ask him to stay like this forever but he pulls his hand away before you can even formulate a single word. 

Your head falls forward and you’re fully prepared to beg and plead and whine for him the way he loves. But then you open your eyes and you see him pushing those same fingers into Bucky’s mouth and you’re whining for a completely different reason now. Whining because that’s so so fucking hot and because Bucky moans around Steve’s fingers like he’s been dying to taste you. 

“Good boy,” Steve praises, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch the way Bucky cleans every last drop of you off of his fingers. Bucky’s eyes are all soft, filled with want and need and pleading as he looks up at Steve and god, it makes your cunt clench around nothing just seeing him like that.

“Please,” Bucky grits out all soft and pleading and your entire body fucking throbs at the sound of his voice.

“Go ahead baby,” Steve coos, nodding against your neck as he threads his fingers in Bucky’s hair. “Get you a taste pretty boy, you’ve earned it.” He murmurs, guiding Bucky’s head between your legs until you can feel his breath fanning over your cunt.

He doesn’t wait for your permission like last time, just dives right in as if Steve’s permission was all he needed. Like it wasn’t even your cunt but theirs to use as they please and good God that makes your head go all fuzzy.

Bucky’s hands rest in the crease of your thighs, spreading you open as he buries his face in your cunt. He makes a sound like a starved man getting his first taste of food as the tip of his tongue slides over your slit before flicking hungrily at your puffy clit. Your breathing stutters and you choke on a sharp gasp as your back arches, rolling your hips against his mouth.

Bucky usually starts slow, he likes to take his time with you. Spends a bit just savoring your taste and the feel of you on his tongue. But not this time. This time he tastes you eagerly, hungrily, like he’s been drowning and your cunt is the first breath of fresh air he’s been awarded. It’s fast and messy and so so fucking glorious.

He groans against you, pushing your hips down against Steve’s as he presses his face further into your cunt, suckling hungrily at your clit while his tongue draws messy patterns that make your thighs clench. You’re so lost in the pleasure of it all that you don’t even realize Steve’s hands have moved until he’s guiding your shirt over your head.

Steve’s hand presses against the center of your chest until your body is flush with his and he hooks his chin back over your shoulder to watch. He peppers sweet little kisses all along your neck and shoulders, whispering soft praises into your skin that you’re too lost to hear. 

Bucky’s left arm hooks around your leg, draping it over his shoulder at the same time that Steve’s thumb ghosts over your nipple and your brain fully short circuits at that. Your chest arches and you choke on a moan as your hips jerk against Bucky’s face—which he seems to like because he fucking moans into your cunt like he’s the one getting head.

“I think he likes this,” Steve whispers against your neck with that stupidly attractive condescending tone he’s so fond of.

A choked out “Fuck,” is the best thing you can offer in response as Steve rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Somebody grabs your wrist and your too fucked to even open your eyes and see whose it is. They guide your hand lower and lower until you feel Bucky’s hair and you don’t waste a second before threading your fingers into it and pulling. Steve laughs at you and Bucky squeezes at your thigh but you genuinely couldn’t care less because Bucky’s tongue just feels so fucking good. Warm and wet and so so so fucking soft against your clit and christ, your brain has turned to fucking soup.

Steve pinches your nipple harder than usual and you fucking whimper, which isn’t a thing that happens a lot but fuck. Everything just feels so fucking good.

“You gonna cum already baby?” Steve whispers against your shoulder and you can feel his smirk just as much as you can hear it. 

You want to say no, want to wipe that smug little smirk off his face but you can’t? How could you when your cunt is literally throbbing and your humping your hips against Bucky’s mouth like a fucking slut? You could try, but with the way Bucky’s just shoved two, thick fingers into your cunt you’re struggling to even remember your name let alone the words you would need to say.

And so you nod, pathetically, whimpering out little broken pleas and half words that make no fucking sense. 

“C’mon princess,” Bucky chokes out, pulling back from your cunt just long enough to nip at the squishy skin of your inner thighs before he presses his mouth back against you. Curls his fingers up just right as your hips buck desperately against his tongue.

Steve groans against your neck, hooking his arm around your waist to at least attempt to keep you somewhat still. He squeezes your breast, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers as Bucky keeps pressing his up into that soft squishy spot in your cunt and god, you feel like you’re about to fucking burst. You’re wound up so fucking tight that you’re almost scared to let go. Every single one of your muscles tense, your back arches, your head presses back against Steve’s shoulder and you almost feel like you want to cry that’s how fucking good it all feels.

It feels like fire is coursing through your veins burning hotter and hotter with each passing second. Hot sticky pleasure builds in your stomach, sending little jolts of fucking ecstasy up your spine and down your thighs with every press of Bucky’s fingers into your cunt. 

“Go on baby,” Steve whispers all soft and sweet against your ear. “You can do it. You’re gonna cum on his pretty face and then we’re gonna fuck you so stupid you won’t remember your stupid paperwork, yeah?”

Bucky moans against your cunt and that’s all it takes. Your entire body tenses, back arching and fingers clutching at Bucky’s hair as you completely fall apart against his tongue. Your hips still but he doesn’t let up, if anything he starts flicking his tongue faster, suckling at your swollen clit as he thrusts his fingers into you harder and faster. 

Your stammering out fucking gibberish, gasping out shaky little whines as you try desperately to squeeze your legs shut despite the full grown super soldier between them. Your hips jerk, jolting clumsily against Bucky’s mouth as your little gasps and whines turn to choked out sobs. 

Steve is whispering soothing praise against your ear but all you can hear is your own pounding heart and the blood rushing in your veins. Your chest heaves as you fall back against Steve’s chest, panting like a goddamn dog as your whole body goes limp. You don’t even have to push Bucky away because he slows to a stop on his own, like he just knew you’d had enough.

“Fuck,” Bucky grits out and you can only just barely hear him over the pounding in your ears. You flutter your eyes open, blink a few times to clear your blurry vision, and then you see him, kneeling between your legs. His face slick with your juices, lips wet and swollen, eyes half lidded as he stares down at your cunt. “Fuck, look at you.” He whispers, voice rough and rumbling as his left hand hooks over your hips and he presses his fucking metal thumb against your clit.

“Makes such a pretty mess, doesn’t she?” Steve chuckles and he sounds oddly proud as Bucky strokes his metal thumb slowly over your puffy, oversensitive clit, both of them ignoring the way you whimper and try to squeeze your legs shut.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, nodding his head as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Yeah…fuck.” 

“Don’t be selfish baby,” Steve scolds and before you can even register, he’s leaning down and grasping the back of Bucky’s head, pulling him into a kiss. It’s sloppy, all tongue and teeth and spit and you’re just stuck in between them, watching the whole thing and it really, really shouldn’t make your cunt throb the way it does.

You blame the little needy whine that leaves your throat on the way Bucky’s thumb is still rubbing soft little circles on your clit. Totally not because watching Steve and Bucky make out like this makes your whole body feel all hot and fluttery.

Steve’s hand comes up to the back of your head and he shifts beneath you, turning his head and pressing his lips to yours without a second's intermission. He kisses you the same way he had just kissed Bucky, hot and messy, tongue pushing into your mouth like it’s his. You can taste a little bit of yourself on his tongue and the fact that you know it’s left over from Bucky’s mouth sends a chill of pleasure down your spine.

You whine into his mouth as Bucky’s hands leave your body leaving you empty and wanting. Steve turns so that he’s sitting sideways on the couch, lifting you with ease until you’re facing him fully, straddling one of his thighs. 

Before you can even get settled, two pairs of hands are on your body, pushing and pulling until you’re positioned how they want you. You move easily, pliant and willing as Bucky guides your hips up and back and Steve pushes your head down until you’re face down ass up between his legs. Bucky tugs at your panties, pulling them down your thighs and then grasping at your legs, one at a time to tug them the rest of the way down. They don’t even say anything, just move you around like you’re nothing but a toy for them to use and your only a little ashamed to admit that that is fucking hot.

“Look at you, honey,” Steve mutters, somehow condescendingly proud as his thumbs stroke at your cheek. “Being so good for us, aren’t you?” He means it honestly but that stupid condescension makes it sound like teasing and somehow, you think, maybe that makes it hotter.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Bucky sighs and you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself but you really, really don’t care. Especially not when he pushes three of his fingers into your cunt and spreads them just to watch the way you stretch around him.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles, smirking as he tilts your head up until you’re looking up at him. “You’re gonna let me borrow your pretty mouth while he fucks you stupid, hm?” It’s a question but he says it like a demand and good lord, you fucking love that.

“Think she’s already fucked stupid, Stevie,” Bucky chuckles, spreading his fingers inside of you to stretch you out a little more. “Aren’t you, princess?”

You nod your head dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you press your hips back against Bucky’s hand. Steve notices the way your fucking yourself on Bucky’s fingers and he clicks his tongue, gently slapping his hand against your cheek to get your attention back on him.

“Needy baby,” He scolds, smirking at the increasingly desperate look in your eyes as you force them open. “Get to work, sweetheart, my cock isn’t going to suck itself, is it?” 

God. You fucking love when he’s like this, all mean and bossy. He doesn’t swear a lot, or really at all, but he does when he’s like this and it drives you (and Bucky) fucking insane to hear him being so incredibly vulgar.

You whine, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you shift back, pressing your elbows into the couch on either side of Steve’s hips. Your hands shake, trembling as they stumble over his jeans. He makes no move to help you, just huffs out a little laugh and strokes his fingers through your hair, watching your fingers fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans for a few times before you finally get it. He lifts his hips off the couch, an amused smile on his face as he watches you tug his bottoms off just enough to get at his cock.

“There you go,” He sighs, shifting a little as you wrap your hand around his cock and give him a few slow strokes. 

He doesn’t rush you like you thought he would, lets you take your time stroking him and running your tongue over his length until you’ve gathered enough brain power to take him into your mouth. He lets out a low groan, gathering your hair into his fist and shifting so that he can watch you better. 

Bucky’s fingers pull out of your cunt once more and you can hear him shifting around behind you as he shoves his sweats down his thighs. He grasps your hip with his metal hand, keeping you at least somewhat still as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds. 

“Shit,” Bucky groans under his breath as he presses his cock against your entrance. 

This he chooses to be slow about, pushes just the tip into your cunt and then just stops. You whine around Steve’s cock, squeezing your eyes shit and trying, uselessly, to push your hips back against his. He holds your hips with both hands now, giving you a little squeeze as he holds you still.

“Hush princess, focus on Stevie, lemme take my time.” He tells you, running his hands over the small of your back as he slowly pushes into you.

You try to listen, try to focus on Steve and the taste of him, the way his cock throbs against your tongue, but it’s so fucking hard to focus on anything other than the way Bucky’s cock is stretching you open so so fucking slowly. 

“I don’t think she can, Buck.” Steve huffs out and there’s a little fucked up part of you that desperately wants to prove him wrong.

“Oh she can,” Bucky responds, squeezing at your hips as he pushes in a little more. “Can’t you sweetheart?” He chuckles and it’s so incredibly condescending and antagonistic but it fucking works.

Something in your brain just clicks and you shift your scattered attention back to Steve. Your dominant hand wraps around his cock with a little more purpose, squeezing at the base the way you know drives him crazy. You take him further into your mouth, alternating between bobbing your head and suckling at his tip while your hand strokes up and down.

“Fuuuck,” Steve draws out, letting his head fall back against the arm of the couch with a low moan.

You’ve spent a long time learning Steve’s body, what he likes, what he loves, what will make him cum in less than 5 minutes and even though you can hardly remember what color the sky is, you remember that. 

“There she is,” Bucky grunts and you can hear the fucking smirk in his voice as he finally sinks his cock all the way into you.

“Fuck, that’s it, just like that honey,” Steve sighs out, lifting his head just enough to watch as you suck him off.

Bucky pulls his hips back and you match him, moving your head in time with his hips. He pushes back in, you go back down, taking as much of Steve’s cock into your mouth while your hand strokes the rest. Bucky squeezes your hip again, cursing under his breath as he draws his hips back again. He thrusts into you a little faster this time, fingers pressing into the front of your hips hard enough to bruise.

Steve wraps your hair around his fist with his right hand while his left runs over your cheek. Stroking his fingers across your face as he watches you and he looks so, so fucking proud that it makes your brain melt. 

“That’s a good girl,” He coos, “Yeah, there you go, just keep your eyes on me while he fucks you, hm?”

God, you really fucking love when he’s like this.

You’ve always loved praise, even when you’re the one domming but there’s something infinitely hotter about getting praised like this. Getting told you’re making someone feel good is one thing but getting told you’re a good girl while you’ve got your mouth around Steve’s cock and your cunt stuffed full of Bucky’s is just so much better.

You whine and Steve smirks like he knows it’s because of what he said and not from Bucky’s fucking you. 

“Fucks sake,” Bucky grits out, “Whatever you just did, she fucking loved it. Fucking squeezing the life out of my cock princess, shit.” He moans, grip tightening on your hips before he starts fucking you harder, thrusting into you faster, almost impatiently like you’ve broken his control.

“Oh yeah?” Steve chuckles, shaking his head like you’ve done something painfully endearing.

“Christ, fuck Steve—mmf—so fuckin’ tight…can’t…m’not gonna fuckin’ last,” Bucky moans, fucking into you so hard that you’re seeing fucking stars.

“That’s alright baby, she can take it.” Steve huffs out, his own hips bucking up into your mouth like his own control is faltering. “Can’t you?”

You do your best to nod up at Steve but it’s hard with the tight grip he’s got on your hair and even harder when Bucky reaches an arm around your waist and starts rubbing quick circles on your clit. You choke on a moan, body tensing up and you use the last little semblance of your brain to pull your mouth off Steve’s cock before you clench your jaw.

“Sorry,” You choke out, resting your head on Steve’s thigh and squeezing your eyes shut. You’re not even really sure why you’re apologizing, it’s not like you’re not giving Steve any attention, your hand is still working his cock in time with Bucky’s thrusts.

“Shh honey, s’okay,” Steve soothes, running his fingers across your cheek as you whimper into his thigh. “You’re okay, you can take it.” He whispers, moaning low in his chest as you grip him a little tighter.

Bucky bends forward, pulling you up so that your weight is resting on your hands instead on your elbows. His chest presses flush against your back and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His metal hand slides over the center of your chest and up the front of your throat before grasping your jaw and tilting your head up. 

“Look,” He whimpers into your neck, squeezing your jaw in his metal hand until you open your eyes and find yourself staring back. “So pretty.” He gasps out, panting against the side of your neck as he starts fucking you even faster. 

Doggy style is not yours or Bucky’s favorite, you both like to see the faces of the people you’re fucking, so fact that there’s a mirror directly across from the couch makes it so much fucking better.

He keeps one hand on your jaw and the other between your legs, rubbing harsh circles on your clit as he fucks the air out of your lungs. You watch his face in the mirror, tilting your head back against his shoulder and reaching your free hand up to thread into his hair.

You’ve, selfishly, forgotten about Steve entirely until he places his hand over yours and starts stroking his cock with your hand. He doesn’t match Bucky’s pace, he goes slow and soft and you know it’s because he’s trying not to cum yet, he doesn’t like making a mess like that.

Bucky’s babbling incoherently into your neck, muffling desperate little whimpers against your skin as he fucks you. His voice is all soft and high-pitched, the way he always gets when he’s about to cum and you fucking love it, god, you could probably cum just from hearing him like this.

He whines your name and pinches your clit and you are so, so fucking close to falling apart. You pull hard at his hair, arching your back as your entire fucking body tenses up. The sounds the two of you are making are so desperately pathetic, paired with the loud, vulgar sounds of your cunt around his cock and it sounds like your both being fucked stupid.

“Oh fuckfuckfuuuuck,” Bucky whimpers against your neck before tilting his head down to press his forehead against your shoulder.

He slows his thrusts, panting into your skin as he draws his hips all the way back before driving them forward just as slow. His fingers are still rubbing rough circles on your clit, slipping messily against your slick skin as he fucks you much softer and slower than he had been.

“Tilt your hips for him honey,” Steve tells you, bucking his hips against your hands.

You listen because you really don’t have the mental capacity not to. Angle your hips back towards his so that this time when his cock slides into you, it grazes against that spot. Your mouth hangs open and your brows pinch together as a broken little whimper falls from your lips.

“Good girl,” Steve coos, moaning low in his chest as he continues hacking himself off with your hand. “There you go baby, she’ll cum for you now, won’t she?” His voice comes out all soft and sweet and it makes Bucky fucking whimper.

“Yeah, fuck…yeah,” You gasp out, nodding your head a little as Bucky’s cock drags ever so slowly over your g-spot.

“Please,” Bucky whines into your shoulder, fingers stuttering against your clit as you clench around his cock.

“Rub your clit for me honey.” Steve coaxes, shifting up onto his knees and moving your hand from his cock to your cunt and Bucky’s hips still, pressing his cock deep within you.

You nod and press your fingers against your clit as Bucky drags his hand up to squeeze your hip. You start out slow at first, whimpering at the contrast of your soft, gentle fingers to Bucky’s rough, demanding ones. Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pulling his face out of your shoulder with a soft hum.

“C’mon, you can do it Buck,” Steve whispers, running his fingers over Bucky’s cheeks as he cradles his face.

“Wanna cum,” Bucky whines, sniffling a little and just the thought that he might be crying makes you clench around him.

“I know,” Steve sighs, peppering little kisses across Bucky’s flushed face. “I know you do baby, just move a little faster for me, yeah? You wanna make her cum first, don’t you?” 

“Mhmm,” He hums, all soft and needy as he gives Steve a little nod. He inhales a sharp, shuddering breath, whimpering as he draws his hips back and starts fucking you again.

“There you go, baby,” Steve praises, pressing a soft, soothing kiss to Bucky’s lips as he continues stroking his thumbs across Bucky’s cheeks. “Good boy.”

“Jesus,” You gasp out, a breathy moan falling from your lips at the combination of your fingers, Bucky’s cock, and Steve being stupidly soft with Bucky.

“Oh God,” Bucky whimpers, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he starts fucking you eagerly, hard and fast and so so fucking good.

“You,” Steve shifts his attention to you. “You be a good girl and cum for him, yeah?” He whispers, cradling your face in his hands the same way he had been holding Bucky’s.

You nod your head, moving your fingers a little faster against your clit. Something about the combination of Steve telling Bucky how to fuck you, Bucky’s cock driving hard and fast into your cunt, over your g-spot, and your own fingers on your clit is making you fucking delirious and you’re too far gone to even try to decipher what.

“He’s been waiting for this for a long time, honey. Be a good girl and let him have it, ok?” Steve tells you, pressing a similarly soft kiss to your lips before pulling back and settling back down on the couch to watch the two of you.

Bucky’s rambling nonsense into the crook of your neck, nipping and mouthing at your skin. He drives his hips into you a little harder, thrusts growing reckless and impatient as you clench around him. 

Your whole body feels hot and sweaty, muscles growing weak and shaky as his cock continues slamming into your g-spot. Your head feels blissfully empty and you thrust your hips back against his, driving yourself closer and closer to the edge. Your clit is swollen and puffy and so incredibly sensitive but you need more, you press two fingers against your clit and rub harder, faster to match Bucky’s needy thrusts.

You’re clenching around him so tight that it almost hurts and his cock can barely move inside of you. He groans low in his throat, all deep and rumbly against your back as he bends you forward so that he can fuck you deeper. You brace a hand on Steve's shoulder, nails digging into his skin as an entirely too needy whine weasels its way out of your throat. 

Bucky’s holding back, already on the knife’s edge of his climax. He wants, needs to cum but more than that, he needs you to cum and he knows you’re close too. He can feel it in the way your cunt is squeezing around his cock, throbbing and pulsing with each thrust of his hips and its driving him fucking insane. He whimpers and tosses his head back, gripping your hips in both hands and dragging you back on his cock with each thrust.

Steve curses under his breath and when you look down you see him stroking his own cock as he watches you and that’s it. You fall brutally over the edge the second you see that. 

You lose yourself, eyes rolling back in your head as your mouth hangs open with a desperate whimper. Your whole body tenses up, back arching, nails digging into Steve’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Your cunt squeezes around Bucky’s cock and pulses as he thrusts into you with short, shallow thrust before he fucking spills inside of you. His cock throbs and twitches inside of you and you can just barely hear his pathetic whimpering over the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears.

Before you’re even able to try to come down from your climax, Bucky is pulling out of you and Steve is yanking you into his lap. Pushing his cock up into you before you even have a chance to whine at the loss of Bucky’s. 

“Oh fuck me, Jesus,” Steve grits out, grasping at your hips as he bucks up into you.

He fucks you with a fierceness that leaves you standing at the precipice of your second climax, ready to fall into your third at a moments notice. You fall weakly into his chest, whimpering breathlessly into his skin as he fucks you to tears. 

You’re sobbing and breathless, still wound up impossibly tight from your last climax. The wet sticky sounds your cunt is making and the sobbing whimpers leaving your mouth mix with Steve’s choked out moans and it sounds so incredibly fucking vulgar. 

You’re lost in a sea of pleasure and painful overstimulation, standing on the edge of another climax before you’ve even come down from the last one. Your cunt pulses around Steve’s cock and your hips writhe against his, stuck somewhere between wanting more and less at the same time. 

God, you want to cum again, you really fucking do but fuck it’s just too fucking much. It hurts, every brutal thrust of Steve’s cock draws a cry from your lips and you’re half tempted to tell him to stop but it's a good kind of hurt. Like pressing your fingers against a fresh bruise, it hurts but you want to do it again and again and again.

“Fucking hell,” Steve grits out, grasping the back of your neck to push you forward into his body so he can fuck you harder. “Sh-shhh honey, you’re okay.” He tries to soothe you, smoothing his hand over your back as you sob into his shoulder.

You gasp out his name, digging your nails into his skin as you clench around him. Your entire body writhes, squirming pathetically atop of him and you don’t know if you’re trying to get away or get more but he holds you in place either way.

“C’mon, you can give me one more,” He groans into your skin, mouthing at your shoulder as he holds you against him.

“It hurts,” You sob out, gasping for breath as he fucks up into your cunt so hard you think you might pass out.

“I know it does, but you can take it.” He tries to soothe you but all it does is work you up even more. “Be a good girl for me, you can gimme one more can’t you, honey?” He says it like a question but you know it’s not, he’s gonna get another orgasm out of you whether you give it willingly or not and that thought drives you crazy.

You nod your head pathetically, sobbing and whimpering into his skin with each brutal thrust of his hips. You slip one hand back between your legs and your entire body fucking jolts the second you touch your fingers to your clit. It only takes a few, gentle rubs against your puffy clit before you're falling completely and totally over the edge yet again.

It’s not a particularly satisfying climax, it’s fast and painful but theres a hint of relief that comes with it. It leaves you even more sensitive than the last and Steve has to use both hands to hold your hips still as he fucks up into you. He curses your name under his breath giving you a few final thrusts before he’s cuming into your cunt and fucking you full of his and Bucky’s cum.

You’re sobbing into his shoulder, going limp on top of him as your cunt tightens up around his cock so tight he can't move. He’s murmuring soft praise into your skin, and you feel both his and Bucky’s hands running over your back to try and soothe you.

You stay like that for a while, or at least it feels like a while to you but you’ve lost all concept of time so it really could’ve been just a few seconds. Bucky tucks himself into Steve’s side, rubbing slow circles on your back as you rest limply in Steve’s lap. Steve’s running his hands through your hair, whispering soft, soothing words into your skin as you slowly come down.

“You doing alright, princess?” Bucky whispers, dipping his head down to press a startlingly soft kiss to your shoulder.

You nod weakly, muttering out something alarmingly close to gibberish as you flutter your eyes open. Your brain feels like fucking mush, you can’t even formulate a clear enough thought to speak, like they’ve fucked the english language right out of your head.

“Mm, told you we’d fuck you stupid, didn’t he?” Bucky teases, smiling fondly as he rests his head beside yours on Steve’s shoulder.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve scolds, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you back to meet your eye. His thumbs stroke gently at your cheeks, wiping at your tears as he gives you the most utterly love-struck smile. “You sure you’re alright honey, went kinda rough on you didn’t we?”

“Sleepy,” Is the only word you can think of, earning a chuckle from both men as Steve guides your head back to his shoulder.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first then you can sleep, yeah?” Steve whispers and Bucky’s getting up from the couch before Steve even finishes his sentence.

“Mhmm,” You hum, wincing softly as Steve shifts, pulling out of you and flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back.

“Did such a good job, baby, let us take care of you.” Steve whispers, peppering loving kisses all over your face as Bucky returns, running a damp rag over your thighs. 

You’re asleep before they even finish cleaning you up but you think you hear one of them say something about getting your paperwork done for you and God, you fucking love them.

[homestuckreplay]

saw: seen

WELL I watched Saw (2004) and it was surprisingly really good! Dave's bro is clearly directly emulating Jigsaw, so the movie gives a clear idea of the kind of person that Bro either is, or wants to be.

The movie focuses on the crimes of a serial killer known as Jigsaw, who constructs elaborate 'games' for his victims. All of Jigsaw's games involve the player causing extreme pain and permanent physical damage to either themself or another person. Jigsaw knows that the majority of his victims will die during the games, and has no issue with that, but doesn't want to do the killing himself or have them die before they've already been physically and psychologically tortured. He also wants to directly witness this torture - to be there in the room and not just watching through a screen, while remaining anonymous and unseen. His plans are elaborate, meticulous, and tailored to each of his victims.

In each case, he is trying to punish them for a perceived wrong that they have committed, or just for a personality flaw. Jigsaw has access to all kinds of torture devices, recording technology, and spaces such as sewage plants and warehouses to conduct his plots in. He is a mastermind without morals, someone with all the skills of a wedding planner or a project manager paired with the belief that he gets to be the judge of all humanity.

Applying this to Dave's bro definitely explains the huge weapons collection. Bro might not have access to actual medieval torture devices for personal use, or might not want to go quite as far as Jigsaw, and these blades, bombs, and explosives are the closest thing. The common areas of the apartment function both as Bro's storage/planning space, and as a site to set up traps for Dave - Lil Cal possibly being the means of guiding Dave to the next clue, or next source of torment. Leaving a disturbing image somewhere a victim will find it, drawing a symbol or message on the walls, and filling the room with cameras while also being physically, stealthily present, are all things Bro has copied directly from Jigsaw.

The puppet theming is Bro's own for the most part - Jigsaw does use animatronics and masks, but not piles of plush, at least not in this first movie. However, puppets carry the connotation of the puppetmaster, which Jigsaw definitely is. Dave is the victim of all Bro's saw traps because he's present and he's easy to manipulate. Bro could be specifically targeting Dave specifically for motivations similar to Jigsaw - wanting to fix or correct Dave in some way, just as he tries to mold Dave into sharing his interests and creating similar ironic content - or he could be using Dave as a test subject, before putting his 'games' into practice on other victims out in the world. I don't know which of these options is scarier.

It does add a new layer to Dave being reluctant to play Sburb, as well. He's already crossed that line of when a game stops being a game and becomes a danger to reality.

[maritessa]

Silver checking his ears and it's definitely not pointy like Lilia's. He ponders if there is actually physical proof of his bond with his father.

I drew this for a drabble I wrote about Silver and Lilia so imma drop it below. I had this idea when Silver's birthday card dropped and he told the story about how he found out he was adopted.

I published this on AO3 last year too so if it's familiar, that's me. I didn't steal this 🫶

Silver is Lilia 's adopted son. He's been aware of this fact since he was a child but it took a while for it to actually register. Of course, as he grew and matured, he came to understand that blood isn't the only way to become family. Silver loved his father, that sentiment never changed in his heart, so he never once resented him for being adopted.

Still, it would be nice if he actually resembled his father. Silver grew up alongside his childhood friend, Sebek. Their family is different from the rest but that made Silver more included. Sebek's mother is a well-known fairy but his father is an ordinary human dentist without the ability to practice magic. Despite the two of them being different, they're still family and they've always welcomed Silver in their home. Silver found comfort in watching the Zigvolt family interact. Their mother stood significantly taller compared to their father. She had pointy teeth, neon eyes, pointed ears, and pale skin; all of her features, their father contrasted. The most significant difference of them all, it their father not being able to use magic when the whole family can! They became an example for Silver to look up to and appreciate. Whenever he felt out of place in the Valley of Thorns, he'd look at their family for solace.

Even if Silver felt included, he couldn't help but notice how the solid proof of their bond, the Zigvolt kids, all took traits from them. Sebek's tall stature, dignified stance and his ability to do magic clearly came from his mother while his complexion and rounded ears came from his father. Blood doesn't define family but the gifts you inherit from your parents are reminders of where you came from.

Silver doesn't like entertaining those thoughts though. After all, his father was the one who took him in and raised him to be the man he is today. It would be disrespectful for Silver to doubt their connections. He vowed that he would always be proud of his parent so when the time came when Kalim asked Silver for a photo of him with his father, he knew he had to be honest.

Kalim was the person he felt closest to and he doesn't trust anyone more than him. It was only fair for Kalim to know the truth. With a deep breath, Silver scrolled through his phone's gallery and looked for an old picture of Lilia teaching him how to walk. As his eyes skimmed through the album, Silver's mind was flooded with expectations of how Kalim would react.

Lilia?! Lilia's your dad?

I didn't expect that, I thought he was your childhood friend or something....

You really don't look alike!

As he silently prepared his heart for Kalim's reaction, Silver handed his phone to Kalim with a photo of Lilia holding his hand as they walked in the woods displayed on its screen. Kalim's smile dropped and his eyes widened in surprise. With two fingers, he zoomed in the screen and leaned in to get a closer look. No matter the angle, one couldn't deny that it was 100% Lilia Vanrouge.

"Isn't this Lilia?!" Kalim exclaimed. "Lilia's your dad?"

There's the reaction he anticipated. Then next....

"I thought he was a childhood friend or something... DEFINITELY NOT YOUR DAD."

There's strike two. The last one should be…

"Now that I think about it, you're really similar," Kalim pondered.

And strike three-wait, no.

What?

"Really...?" Silver questioned Kalim, totally in shock by how left field the answer was.

"Yeah I mean first of all, the way you talk is similar! You're both very straightforward." Kalim explained, counting the points he was making with his fingers.

"Secondly, the both of you are really generous! You both just willingly lend me things I show a bit of interest in.

"Oh! You're also both good at giving advice. You're always giving other people encouragement.

"And also, you both have that strong look in your eyes. Lilia's looks like someone who's strong due to experience but yours just shows pure determination. Maybe you inherited them, Silver! You said Lilia trained you in combat too right? The calluses on your hands are proof that you inherited Lilia's strength!" As Kalim kept saying words of wonder, Silver stared at his hands curiously.

He'd never thought of it that way. Silver always looked for Lilia's pointed ears in him, Lilia's pointed teeth, or Lilia's bright pink eyes as proof of their familial ties but he never thought to look into his spirit.

Silver recalled times when he'd successfully finish his training regimen for the day. At the peak of the mountain, Lilia always stood with a prideful grin. He'd pat Silver on the back and exclaim, "That's my boy!"

"That's my boy."

Lilia had always been telling him this and thanks to Kalim, it suddenly had a deeper meaning. Silver chuckled to himself and thanked Kalim with a warm look in his eyes. Kalim was caught off guard but by the way Silver gently touched his own rough palms, he had a feeling Silver found an answer within himself. Kalim gently accepted his gratitude, happy to see this side of Silver.

[navree]

Do you have any headcanons for our golden boi sunfyre ? 🥺

Sunfyre my beloved I'm so sorry all this happened to you in my perfect world absolutely nothing goes wrong with him whatsoever and he gets to live a long and happy life being the prettiest boy in all of Planetos.

I think it's, like, basically canon but technically not confirmed, that Sunfyre is a hatchling from Dreamfyre, given the name similarities and the fact that Dreamfyre is much older (my pet theory is that Sunfyre's egg is Thee Egg that Rhaenyra chose for Baby Baelon and that Daemon subsequently stole).

Sunfyre was not a cradle hatchling. It appears that none of the (on screen) Hightower-Targaryen children had cradle hatchlings (given that Helaena claimed an already old dragon between episodes 6 and 7 and Aemond of course claimed the oldest dragon), either because none of their eggs hatched or Alicent just wasn't placing eggs in their cradles for it. Around when Aegon was two or three, still very young, he somehow got his hands on Sunfyre's egg, and soon after Sunfyre hatched. Sunfyre has never known a life without Aegon in it, and Aegon barely remembers a time where he didn't have Sunfyre. They practically grew up together, though Sunfyre at a much quicker rate.

Seeing as dragons are meant to have an intelligence level on par with humans (even tho ASOIAF and all related media kinda seems to forget that and has relegated them to the role of "cats" but with nukes attached), Sunfyre is aware that he is The Hot Girl. Sunfyre is ridiculously vain, any time he's flying with Aegon on him to command him, he's primping and preening and deliberately flying into as much sun exposure as he can so everyone can see the glint of gold off his scales.

Sunfyre and Aegon are ridiculously close. Far closer than any other dragon and their rider that we've seen in the entire franchise. Yes, even closer than Dany and her children (Dany would have won out but being the first person to raise dragons in over a century means that she clearly doesn't have the right tools for it which is why the kids get rascally in ADWD in a way we didn't see at the Targaryen peak). Like, however close you think they are because of the canon stuff (Aegon's grief when he died, Sunfyre literally dragging his broken body to Dragonstone because he sensed Aegon was there and needed him, all that horrible stuff), that's the tip of the iceberg. They're close not just emotionally but honestly to the point where it's almost like they have a psychic bond. It's rare that Aegon even needs to speak commands verbally, he and Sunfyre know each other incredibly well, almost as if they can literally just sense what's in each other's heads, feel each other's emotions incredibly keenly (that thing dragons and dragonriders have where they can physically feel each other's pain, but multiply it by one thousand). It's borderline mystical, especially when factoring in that both Aegon and Sunfyre only seem to start really recovering from their respective Rook's Rest wounds after they've been reunited on Dragonstone, as if they literally needed each other's presence in order to heal.

Stolen from Twitter (can't remember which account but I saw it and I wept like a baby): Aegon sings to Sunfyre sometimes. Sunfyre really, really likes it. Like, basically turns into a huge overgrown kitten when that happens, tries to get all cuddly even though he knows that Aegon's too small for it now that he's gotten big.

Sunfyre does have a certain amount of affection that extends to other members of Aegon's family, his mother and siblings in particular, and even to their dragons. Yes, even Vhagar. Doesn't matter that she's ancient and bigger and dragon mee-maw, he'll still go into attack mode if someone attempts to fuck her up. Also, a bit cracky considering we don't technically know the full mental faculties of dragons, but he's closest to Tessarion, given that they're closer in age and also Daeron's apparently a natural sweetheart and that temperament might extend to Tessarion as well. (Addendum to this: Sunfyre spent a lot of time flying with Aemond and Vhagar when Aemond was recovering. Not even just when Aegon was babysitting and making sure Aemond wasn't at risk, but literally just if he was out around the same time as Aemond and Vhagar, he hovered a lot, just to be sure. Aemond has never talked about it but he thinks of it sometimes, when he sees Aegon drunk and wet eyed and feels that twinge of disgust and envy that he tries to push down, when he remembers there's more to Aegon than seen by the naked eye)

This is less about Sunfyre himself and more about his relationship with Aegon, but the bond Sunfyre and Aegon have was Aegon's first real taste of feeling unconditional and requited love. The bond with Sunfyre was the first time in his life Aegon felt that the love he was giving out was being returned to him, and that he wasn't at risk of losing it, the way he's afraid he's done with his siblings and with Alicent. It's why, even above everything else they share, Sunfyre is so important to him, and why he's gutted and griefstricken to the point of kinslaying when Sunfyre dies.

Aegon calls Sunfyre almost primarily by pet names, even when giving verbal commands. And like, really intimate pet names, the kind of pet names you save for, like, your kids. He calls him "sweetling" and "my darling" and "golden boy" and things of that sort all.the.time. Why do I think this? Because my brain spat "Sunfyre sniffs at the blood in the air. Aegon knows now is when he says the word, the fateful word, but he cannot speak through his heart pounding in his throat. Kill her, beloved, he thinks. Kill her for what her ambition did to us. To you. Even to me. Sunfyre shifts, and a keening growl rumbles low in his ruined chest." out at me and I have not known peace since.

When Sunfyre was still small enough and Aegon's siblings and Hell, even the Strong kids were still little, they all adored Sunfyre. They coddled him relentlessly and basically cooed over him 24/7, and both Aegon and Sunfyre were absolutely thrilled with it. Even when down in the Dragonpit with them, before shit started going sideways when some people had dragons and others didn't and the bullying and all, Sunfyre would still put on a bit of a show (as I said, vain) before Aegon would make him behave, which was Aegon's own version of his own show in displaying the bond and mastery he and Sunfyre have with each other.

Aegon had Sunfyre's skull prepped to line the walls of the throne room in accordance to House Targaryen traditions. Aegon III did take it down eventually (obviously, given the memory association), but he only took it down after Alicent Hightower had died and that last shredding of her children's legacy wouldn't hurt her anymore.

[dougjounes]

IMAX RANT

I understand the elitist tone of saying moviee should be watched in theatres, but I genuinely do think movies should be watched in theatres. I saw some people getting mad at Villeneuve's comments about IMAX, and my first reaction is yeah they do kinda suck but I don't think he's wrong. There is something about a massive screen, a group viewing and "supposedly" perfectly calibrated sound/picture that is actually really important. If the first time I watched 2001 was outside of an IMAX theatre I don't think I would or could have appreciated it nearly as much. When I saw Blade Runner 2049 on opening night in a packed theatre and the credits rolled there was an eerie silence and for two minutes before anyone dared to move. Tenet is genuinely the only movie to make me scared of a gun going off. These are all experiences I don't think you can get at home without having the money or space for a decent sound system and a BIG 4K tv, and how many people want or can have either of those things.

Nobody can afford to see every movie in theatres, and not every movie will be playing in a local cinema once it stops it's intial run and this is where I side more with the descenters. IMAX is big and square. Most tvs are niether of those things. Not to go on a back in my day tirade but I remember when you bought a blu-ray and the aspect ratio would change to try or completely fit the whole IMAX picture into the release, but since the streaming takeover they've given up. Most home releases keep a consistent aspect ratio for the whole runtime. I think maybe it confused the average movie goer and I get that, but in the streaming era people buying physical copies want the closest thing to a "true" experience as they can at home. Not even providing an option means these movies are largely incomplete unless you have the means to see it during its intial run at one of the few IMAX screens in the world.

Yes IMAX video on regular TV's look weird but when you start repeating the cycle of PAN and SCAN VHS then we have a bigger problem. There are better examples of how much you lose not seeing some of these movies in IMAX especially DUNE, and that I think is what's unexcusable. The best and the only are two separate things. Disney has started to put out IMAX cuts onto DISNEY+ but completely ommit them from the dvd releases. Your mom or your dad might not think they care but when you lose so much of the frame and context they might actually relize that they do actually like it when they see the full thing. That's irrelevant though because you just don't have that option, even if you spend thousands of dollars to get as close as you can at home you will never be able to because of some studio bullshit.

That's the goal though. They don't want you owning it. Even after you buy your 4K collector's edition, they want you running back to the theatres for the release because you being the savy film enthusiast know that's the only way to actually watch the full movie. They don't want your one purchase, it's not enough, it's never enough. History repeats itself. First VHS and now this, do I think we will ever have studio concede? I don't know, it's possible but not for decades. All the media people consume is wide not square, TV's got wider to accommodate the content. Projectors aren't really an issue if you have a home theater the screen can grow and shrink. We have had rolling TV's for awhile, maybe that's what's next. TV's that roll up to accommodate square IMAX movies and roll back for eveything else but some wacky tech like that isn't something people are going to even start to want until half the movies coming out are filmed in IMAX. Even then most movies and tv that's coming out is mixed for 5.1 by default and it's been that way for a long time even on streaming but I will bet most people listen to it on something that is stereo or mono.

[medicinemane]

I mean seriously, people don't get that these AI things are closer to Kerbal Space Program than to being a person

By that I mean, that KSP as a program runs all kinds of calculations about like how fast you're moving and what shape your craft is, and then figures out what it should do with that information. It figures out over and over what the physics should be doing, and then renders that on screen into a visual format the player can process

AI is doing something really similar of taking in information, and then rather than changing where things are in the world and rendering that, they do a lot of rapid calculations based on the data they've been fed, and then render whichever one seems closest to what was requested

That's a very simplified version of it from not a programmer, but I think I come closer to hitting the truth of what's going on with my in expert explanation than all the stuff that treats it like AI actually thinks

[thewisebyers]

Mouse Trap (Jason Todd Imagine)

fandom: titans (its honestly the only version of jason i know) prompt: After losing Jason to the Joker, the reader falls right into Red Hood’s trap. ship: past!jason todd x reader, minor connor x reader (its mentioned like once if you squint)  requested?: no but i couldn’t stop thinking about it warnings: death, grief, mentions of wanting to die

A/N: set in season 3, between the first two episodes but before the third (when Hank dies :( rip) but before they've connected Jason with Red Hood, they just know about the red hood attacks

You wanted to scream, yell into the sky and ask why the fuck life had to be so fucking cruel but knew you couldn't, your words would cause physical pain to whoever was closest or whoever you were aiming your words at. And the closest person was you and years of ugly words were already spread across your silver skin. The news had broke about Jason's death and you found out from the fucking television; you had glared at the newscaster on the screen before leaving without looking at any of your teammates. You needed to be alone and luckily your friends understood that because none of them had followed after you.

Or so you had thought; because you had nearly jumped out of your skin when your saw Connor already waiting by your bedroom door. I'm not in the mood, Connor, you sign, your hands doing the talking for you. Memories of teaching Jason how to communicate with you come flooding back and tears threaten to spill out. Connor must sense the tears threatening to escape so he doesn't say anything; instead he just pulled you into a hug. A strong, comforting hug that was almost a little too tight but it was so needed. The warmth of his chest against your face finally made the tears spill out and onto his shirt.

You had been on your own and on the run before the fatefully meeting the Titans, they had been sent to take you down and you had put up a good fight, refusing to use your actual powers until you felt you had to. But as soon as you opened your mouth; you were quickly taken down by Rachel. Your mouth was forced shut, your hands and legs tied together with invisible forces. Luckily, instead of seeing an enemy, the Titans saw a scared teenager and you've been apart of the team ever since. You've never used your powers since that day; your fighting skills were more than enough to help take down a few bad guys. Most of your team had learned sign language to communicate with you but there was still a disconnect with others.

Connor's movements were quick as he picked you up in his arms and brought you into your room. Things were him were complicated since Jason had left the Titans but your feelings about the superboy were the last thing on your mind as he gently laid you on top of your bed. An empty feeling began building inside you as his warmth left your bed. "Do you want me to stay?" Connor asked, his tone was neutral and careful, like he didn't want to upset you any further. You shook your head no and before you heard the door close, you hear Connor say, "Let me know if you need anything." Once you were alone; a sob shook through your body.

You didn't have much time to sort your feelings because soon the you and the rest of the Titans were in Gotham; in the Wayne manor. Now that Bruce was gone, killing the Joker before going, the Titans were in Gotham until further notice. You couldn't help yourself; as soon as you entered the building, you went in search of Jason's room. You'd give anything to feel closer to him again, to breathe in his familiar scent and wash yourself in him. Room after room, you finally find the one you're looking for and tears spill out once you're behind his closed door. It smelled like him; which brought you to your knees on the soft carpet.

++

After a horribly failed bank robbing mission; you needed to get out. You didn't care about the threat of these red hoods going around; you were ready to open your mouth and scream. The thing about not being able to scream and let out your emotions is that it begins to boil over and you're ready to take your anger out on anyone. But you bit your tongue because you couldn't just let it out so instead you found yourself in a bar that you were barely old enough to enter.

The music is too loud but it helps drown out your feelings as you head to the bar, you point to some random drink on their sticky menu that's taped to the counter. As you wait you look around the bar; there's an upstairs which seems like a VIP area but majority of people seem to be dancing on the ground floor. There were couples littered around the dance floor and it made you envious. How dare they be happy and dancing together while your heart felt so heavy? You were in the wrong place if you didn't want to see people be happy so you were trying not to be so bitter.

Once your drink was ready; you paid and tipped but before you could walk away, the bartender spoke, "There's someone in VIP asking for ya." You wouldn't know anyone in VIP, you were sure about that, so you raised an eyebrow. "A Jason, I think? Little fuzzy with names, miss." The drink in your hand threatens to fall at the mention of the name, your heart picks up. But Jason was dead, it couldn't be him. But he was the only Jason you knew. You just nodded and held your drink tighter, closer to you. Did you dare climb the stairs that lead to whoever was up there? Was it a trick?

Curiosity killed the cat and Jason, you thought bitterly as you climbed the stairs, using the railing to help steady your trembling body. You couldn't help the hopefulness that was bubbling inside your body; you'd let yourself be fooled in your grief if it let you be closer to him. Your heart was leading the way, all logic thrown out the window with each step you took. Once at the top of the stairs, you looked around for some other form of life. You didn't realize just how empty it was upstairs, just rows of empty tables and what looked like someone sitting in the back corner of the room. You had a bad feeling yet you gulped your drink to reassure yourself before heading towards the mysterious figure.

You had only taken a few steps before you head began to spin; your world tilting around you. You tried to steady yourself with an empty table but in your dizziness you were completely off and missed the table by a few feet. Your body hit the ground with a thud but your body felt numb and tingly so you could hardly feel the impact of the hard floor. Darkness began to consume your body as the shadow rose from his spot; even in your state you could see a male figure but that's all you could make out before everything went dark.

++

When you finally come to; your body feels like its on fire and there's a stabbing pain coming from your mouth, you can feel the rope tied around your wrists and ankles. You're weak; groggy from the drugs you assumed had been slipped into your drink. How could you be so fucking stupid? The mention of Jason and you had become completely weak; you hated yourself for that. Once you're fully aware of your situation, you begin to look around the unfamiliar room. There wasn't much to it; a basic abandoned building with graffiti scattered around.

"Pity," a voice makes your head turn and you realize you're not alone. So this was the Red Hood that was causing all the chaos in Gotham and you fell right into his game. And you had made it so easy. "I thought the Silver Tongue would be a bigger threat but little mouse-y fell right into the trap." You open your mouth to speak but quickly realize why you were in such excruciating pain (how you hadn't realized when you had first woken up was beyond you); you tongue had been cut from mouth. "Cat got your tongue?" he laughed.

Panic began to set as tears rolled down your face; you began to thrash in your restraints as Red Hood closed the distance between the two of you. He was laughing as you squirmed against the cold ground. "Sorry, not sorry," he said, grabbing your hair in his hand and held your head in place, holding a gun to the side of your head with his other hand. "Tell-" he paused to laugh again; you wanted to kill him. You were embarrassed and angry you had let him get you in this position but mostly at yourself. You wanted to die; you silently prayed he'd pull the trigger but you knew it wouldn't come. It was all a game and you were bait; he needed you alive to send a message. "Tell the Titans this is a warning." But before you could react, he hit his gun against the side of your head, successfully knocking you out for a second time.

++

When you come to for the second time; you wake up with your teammates surrounding you. You were back in Wayne Manor; your head spinning as people rushed to your aid. All you could think about was your ripped out tongue, they probably didn’t know about that yet. Everyone was talking at once; asking if you were alright, saying you had been gone for hours and you had just shown up unconscious on the manor's front steps. You opened your mouth to show your missing tongue; answering their questions without any other explanation. You pretended to pull a hood over your head; telling them exactly who did this to you.

[draftingteacups]

I saw the ask about what happens in Chapter 6, when the Idia's henchmen tell him Soni is practically at their gates and she does. Not. Look. Happy. The 5 post overblot students who know her wrath will be: It's been nice knowing you Idia or If I were you, I'd be writing up my final will, or What did you do to get her this mad? For the last part, Vil knows and he shudders. After all, Hell hath no fury like a woman! I'd call her The Holy Terror of Ramshackle, the woman who brought STYX to its knees

huhuhuh that be the truth!

The Overblot boys have seen various states of her rage, Azul and Vil having seen her being frigging rage-filled and spiteful at points.

Never had they seen this level of crazy and the aura that radiates around her just makes it even wore.

Riddle is just sweating because he's seen her angry before like everyone else here, but she's never been so angry that you could feel it through a screen. Leona just senses DANGER DANGER DANGER RUN AWAY-

Azul has seen her wreck the Mostro Lounge, his contracts, and threw him into so much stress and chaos in the span of three days, and Soni admitted that she could've destroyed him in two. She wanted to see him suffer and saw her smile whilesaying it. Ever since then, he's been intimidated and twitchy with a fear of white birds.

But when Vil and Jamil mention how Ramshackle Dorm had been wrecked in the fight against the cyborgs, Vil saying that Ace and Deuce were pretty injured as well as the Pokemon from the garden who assisted them, and Grim had been taken to STYX as well, Azul's soul just straight-up ascended into the heavens BECAUSE IDIA YOU IDIOT, HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED FROM MY STORIES HUH?!

Jamil still remembers the chaos that Swanna brought against him and the damned bird still tries to smack him like a pinata whenever he goes near Ramshackle (which was common during the VDC training camp). He still remembers that angry Bug Pokemon and he shudders.

For a tiny spoiler for Episode 5, Soni was suffering heavily from Vil's Poison Gas arena effect because of her you-know-what and she still fucking fought him like nothing was wrong and she wasn't suffering terrible pain. Vil has fought with her verbally and physically through Overblotting and she can wreck you up badly.

Idia just stares in horror as he just says, "NONONONNOONO! I unlocked a secret boss on ACCIDENT?! What is this shitty outcome!? AAAAAAHHH SHE'S TERRIFYING! WHAT THE HELL?! WHY'S THE TEACHING ASSISTANT SO FREAKING SCARY?! Aren't they supposed to be cute and supportive characters?! Always telling you to do your best? Being lovable and sweet and moe?! What's with this twist?!?!?"

Everyone's just like, "YOU IDIOT! HAVE YOU NEVER MET HER BEFORE?! WE'RE GONNA DIE-!"

Soni radiating that Pokemon Champion energy during her first year and it is super effective on these guys. Sure, they've met Soni as a student, as a teaching assistant, as a friend, and someone who's beaten them up to save their lives during their Overblots.

On a more dramatic note...

...they've never really seen her side of handling organizations like this with Azul being the closest to with his business in Episode 3 :) It was pretty damn close though.

She's got a few nicknames and titles from home that relates to her. Grand Duchess of Kalos, Champion Soni, and Overseer Soni are common ones.

Some informal ones are the Kalosian Witch based on her relationship with The Wizard of Ballonlea and her being Kalosian. It's also used in a derogatory manner, depending on the context.

Another is the Voice of Kalos as she's done much to reform the region in the span of two years, making them stronger and more peaceful than it'd ever been in Diantha's handling. Hearing the words of the people and doing them justice when they had been ignored during times of crisis, especially during Team Flare's takeover.

The side that everyone's witnessing right now... is one that everyone avoids at all costs.

The side that Team Flare and Neo Flare have seen in the years before, during, and after their fall up until the present day. One that they try to avoid as much as possible, the fear deeply set into their psyches lest they be careless enough to stand in her way.

The side that high-strung nobles with secrets and dirty money despise for how cutting and brutal her interrogation would be while still within the Grand Duchess' rights as ruler to the region as a whole.

The side that is calm, distant, from afar. However, when it is before you, it is like death has descended onto your doorstep with the lovely gift box in the form of your coffin.

The side that gave her the nickname of The Blue-Eyed Exterminator.

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 3

Here is act 3!!! Thank you so much for all of your enthusiasm so far! Hope you enjoy :)

8.6k - masterlist - ao3

--

Aelin has never really thought of herself as someone with a lot of friends. She’s always had Elide, Aedion and Lysandra, but they almost fall into a separate category. Like what they’ve been through surpasses friendship, and she thinks at this point Elide and Lysandra are as much her family as Aedion.

Throughout her years in the industry she hasn’t made many friends, Chaol and Dorian are probably the only two, but she's learned how things work. It didn't take her long to realise that all the girls she met at auditions, and bonded with over all of the things they had in common, would have stabbed her right in the back at the earliest opportunity.

It's cutthroat, but she can't say she's never succumbed to the temptations.

She’d be lying if she said she’d never pretended she was there to audition for another character just to get the other actress to spill her analysis of the character. She can’t say it was unintentional when she’d leave the audition room and then pretend to take a phone call where she’d discuss how pleased the casting director had been with her take and had promised to call, watching the faces fall of the other hopefuls she waltzed past.

She can’t say she’d never do it again.

That said, she feels like she has a good thing going with Fenrys, Manon and Rowan. They've hung out a couple of times and she likes them admittedly more than she thought she would at first. The dynamic is fast and snappy, funny and sarcastic, and she can feel herself getting back into the old motions.

Aelin knows they’re friends now, and it feels really fucking good, but she has one concern. She’s not entirely sure that what she feels for Rowan can be described as friendship and she’s kicking herself for letting it happen. The physical attraction she can excuse, he looks how he looks and she’s defenseless against that, but the rest? The rest is where she’s really let herself go.

He’s opened up to them a lot more now, and they spend a lot more time together than they did at the start. Just last week she had thrown herself into her seat at the end of a long day of shooting and plunked her feet in his lap. She had expected him to throw them off and growl something at her, but he had simply rested his left hand on her ankle and continued to scroll through his phone with his right.

It had felt far too easy to settle into his touch, and far too enjoyable to have the heat of his skin against her own.

Even so, there’s a level of detachment to his interaction with them. He falls somewhere between bemused dad and despairing lecturer tasked with herding a group of unruly children through a life or death venture. He curses actors all day long but he’s just as dramatic. There are moments when she catches him beginning to smile at a comment from Fenrys or the bickering she and Manon do before he halts himself and seems to rein it back in.

She wants to see him grin.

It’s kind of weird to think back to the first week of shooting and how unsure she felt around them, how insecure she was of her own ability compared to theirs, but by now she’s pretty sure she’s past the worst of that and she doesn’t want to waste any more time doubting herself, at least in comparison to them. It helps when Rowan makes little comments like nice job, Aelin or when she catches the nod he does after she nails a scene, especially when he tries to hide it.

She posted a picture on Instagram of the four of them from set last week, her and Manon crouched at the front wrapped up again in the massive coats they give them on set, their faces almost completely covered by the puffed up collars, and Rowan and Fenrys stood behind them, their arms crossed across their chests and faces twisted into overly dramatic imitations of anger. It had taken some pleading and possible bribery from Fenrys to get Rowan to agree to the pose, but they had succeeded in the end.

She had captioned it so we stole their coats… and tagged each of them, watching as the likes came flooding in. Only seconds later the comments had begun to run a bit wild.

This is going to be so good I can already tell.

fenrys looks so hot fuck me up

ARMS!ARMS!ARMS!ARMS!

Are they dating?

She stopped reading the comments pretty quickly after that.

They’re about a third of the way into shooting, and Aelin knows what she’s accomplished so far is some of her best work. It hasn’t been easy, but she’s put hours and hours of her time into understanding her character and she feels like she truly knows Feyre, and almost sees some of herself in her. There are differences of course, Aelin isn’t quite as naive as Feyre or as forgiving, but they’ve both been dealt a shitty hand, and Aelin likes to think she’s working just as hard as Feyre to pick herself back up.

She finishes the take, and slaps her usual high-five against Fenrys’ palm and sends her regular nod over to Rowan. Good? Her nod asks. Good, his own gesture returns. She tucks her smile away as she begins to wander over to where he’s stood chatting with a producer.

She’s built a habit of going over to him once they finish shooting, she wants to seek him out constantly, and she feels drawn to him in a way that she’s beginning to lose the fight against. She’s about halfway towards him when she spots a tall head of brown hair making its way towards her.

She barely has time to process before there are a pair of strong arms around her waist and she’s being lifted up and swung around, her feet dangling inches above the ground.

“Hello, superstar.” His voice is deep in her ear and she can feel the vibrations where she buries her face into his neck.

“Gods! I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.”

She gasps as he places her back down on the ground and she can finally smile up at Chaol. Taking in the chestnut-brown of his hair and the faint creases beginning at the corners of his rich brown eyes. Gods, she’s missed him.

She’s known he’d be visiting the set at some point. The Crescent City is his baby, a script he’s been working on for years, and she knows he couldn’t stomach leaving it all to Rowan without any supervision.

He had first mentioned it to her a few years ago, but back then it was nothing more than an idea. Aelin knew he had been chipping away at it in the background for a while and it wasn’t a surprise when he first sent it to her. It’s different now though, now that there’s a budget and a set and actual progress made in getting it on screen.

It feels like a big deal to her; she can’t imagine how Chaol feels.

She had never dreamed though, through all of their midnight conversations about it and their half-dreaming out loud discussions, that she would be the one to star in it.

Chaol just grins at her, a twinkle in his eyes that she knows means he’s happy, and says “thought I’d surprise you.”

“It’s definitely a surprise.” She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck for a second time. She squeezes him tight and breathes him in, his smell is comforting and it makes her feel young again. “How long are you here for?”

He gives her waist a short squeeze, reminding her that his hands are still resting there with hers still up on his shoulders. It’s not the closest she’s ever been to him, and it doesn’t cross her mind for her touching him so freely to be an issue.

“A couple of days.” He smiles down at her again. “Lunch?”

“Of course, let me change first?” She asks, releasing his shoulders and turning to walk back to her trailer. He holds a hand out, as if to say lead the way.

She sets off as he follows, and she can feel the lightness of the wide smile across her face. It’s a kind of comfort now that Chaol is here, he’s taken care of her for so many years and his presence grounds her in a way she hasn’t really found with many other people.

Rowan still stands with the producer behind where some of the team are tinkering with the filming equipment. His brow is drawn into a frown and the producer standing with him has begun to look profoundly uncomfortable.

The take was good, she knows that, and when he runs a jagged hand over his face a jolt of concern strikes her. He looks anguished, or frustrated, and she wonders how he’s soured so quickly after the silent exchange they shared mere moments ago.

His gaze snaps to hers and it’s a powerful thing. His stare weighs heavily into her, so much so she wants to look away and her steps falter. The stumble is barely perceptible, but she sees it and thinks maybe he does too. There’s something thorny in the pull of his brows and the twist of his mouth and she wants to go over, ease his troubles, but that’s not her place. And Chaol is inches behind her following her lead.

Rowan’s eyes flick to Chaol and his mouth twists further. And not to get ahead of herself yet again, but surely not, right? His gaze switches back to rest on her, only for a second longer before he mouths something short and sharp to the producer and disappears.

Aelin shakes it off. She might think they’re friends, but as has become her mantra, he’s her boss. What she needs is something gentle and simple and uncomplicated. In the real world, everything she wants from Rowan is decidedly complicated.

Sitting opposite Chaol is a place she’s been many times before. More often than not, Dorian would have taken up the mantle at Chaol’s side, the pair of them closer than brothers. They have the kind of relationship she thinks truly cannot exist for people other than the two of them.

The level of understanding they share, the lengths they would go to for each other, it’s unparalleled and she longs to find a bond like that one day.

When she was younger being sat in a position like this, opposite Chaol, so close they could whisper to converse, would have been a dream. She had a bit of an infatuation with him when she first met him; he was a few years older than her, charming, handsome and calming. He had been her entrance to the world she lives in now and he had kept her safe and taken care of her.

She had thought he was everything she wanted.

She had realised pretty quickly, after going in for an ill advised kiss that he had swerved, that that would never be an option for them. He had let her down kindly and gently, which she appreciates now, even if it felt like a blow at the time.

He hadn’t let her pull back from him though, he had kept her close until she eventually got over the embarrassment and was able to look at him without blushing. It’s not something she dwells on now, she was young and naive and she could have done a lot worse than Chaol.

He was who she had gone to when she had met Sam. She had waxed poetic to him about the boy with the curly brown hair and the shy smile. She smiles lightly to herself at the thought of him, what he would make of where she’s at now.

He’d kiss her cheek with his arms around her waist, boasting how his girl, his baby, was a star in the making. She swallows the thought, struck by both the image and the lingering pain it brings, but also by the knowledge that she’s gone a couple of days without thinking of him.

She hasn’t thought of the boy with the brown eyes in a few days, hasn’t woken up screaming in even more. She breathes past the panic that threatens in her throat, both at the idea that she hasn’t thought of Sam for a while and the reasons there could be for that.

“How is the love of my life?” She focuses back on Chaol and watches him try very hard not to choke on his mouthful of his drink.

He had picked the cafe, even though she’s been in Rifthold for a while it is still far more his space than hers, and he knows the hidden gems like this that she isn’t privy to yet. It’s rustic and cosy, the brick walls have colourful bunting draped between them and none of the chairs inside match. She’ll have to come back if the food is good, the atmosphere inside is relaxed and busy enough that she can feel completely anonymous. She doesn’t want to leave, maybe next time she can bring a book.

“My beautiful wife is well,” he manages once he swallows, and she smirks at how he knows exactly what she’s asking. “Almost past the second trimester now, and still refusing to slow down.”

That sounds exactly like Yrene. She says as much and Chaol nods wearing the expression of a man who, if he didn’t love his wife so much, would be tired of chasing after her.

Yrene is a whirlwind of energy and efficiency and it’s why she’s one of Aelin’s favourite people. She’s full of exciting tales and inspiration, that is, when she can get Yrene to slow for a second enough to catch up. She probably doesn’t need her high paced job as a doctor in Rifthold General Hospital, like, Chaol’s scripts are successful, he’s won a number of awards that sit in a special cabinet in their house, but that’s just how Yrene is.

Caring and kind and so, so smart. If Aelin didn’t do what she does, she’d love to be like Yrene.

“Second trimester?” She cries. “He’s almost here!”

Chaol is again at risk of choking. “Aelin, please. I still have a few months left to get ready.”

He looks almost panicked and she scoffs. “Chaol, please.” She mocks his tone perfectly and ignores the eye roll he gives her. “You were born ready. You’ve basically raised me for the past few years and look how well I’m doing.”

He laughs, and she smiles, it’s exactly the reaction she wanted.

“I’m not sure that’s the glowing compliment you think it is,” He says dryly and she just pokes her tongue out at him.

“Chaol,” she begins, seriously this time. “You are already the best dad I know, you’ll be fine. And if not, the baby has Yrene, so he’ll definitely be fine.”

He doesn’t bite on any of it, just looks bashfully to the table cloth and nods. She can’t resist one last comment.

“And even then, he’ll have me and Dorian.”

“Gods, Aelin. The thought will send me to an early grave.”

She tilts her head to the side and sketches a flip of her hair over her shoulder. The combination of her and Dorian and a baby probably would give Chaol a heart attack but she’ll embody her role as the cool aunt, and Dorian can more than handle the cool uncle.

“Do you not want your child to be cool?” She knows he’s barely finding her funny at this point but she’s missed him and she loves winding him up.

He’s saved from having to respond by the arrival of their food. She stares longingly at his burger and greasy side of fries and forces herself to take a mouthful of her wilted salad.

After a few bites she notices his expression, something pinched around the corners of his mouth, and she knows there's something he wants to say.

To say that Chaol is less invested in her sobriety than Aedion and Lysandra would be a lie, but he doesn’t question it as openly as they do, so she doubts what he wants to say is anything to do with that. She’s ordered an orange juice to spice it up, and he has a tap water that he ordered without question so she thinks he mustn’t be concerned.

“What?” She says slowly, whatever it is she wants to know, and the pain of waiting for him to spit it out was almost too much.

He shakes his head and pops another fry into his mouth. She can’t resist stealing one and a swipe of ketchup off his plate.

He begins carefully, after using his napkin to dab at the corner of his mouth. “How is it going? You read the script pretty early on, do you think…”

He trails off, and seems to pause while he considers his words, but she doesn’t need him to finish.

“Chaol, I think it’s going really well,” she says and it’s sincere. “And it’s not just because I’m in it.”

It’s far easier to crack jokes and reassure others than it is to be the one being reassured.

He shoots her an unimpressed look, but she knows her words have done their job. Even through her faults she knows he trusts her judgement.

“I feel like you asked that in a way that meant you thought it wasn’t going well.”

She’s fishing a little, but Chaol is a gossip at heart, even worse than Dorian despite how he’d deny it.

He sees right through her, but relents as he takes another bite of his burger. She stabs another bundle of lettuce, dipping it in a pool of dressing resting in the bottom of her bowl as he swallows and speaks.

“I didn’t think it would go badly, but Fenrys Moonbeam has a bit of a reputation, and I just hope he’s taking it seriously. I put a lot of work into it.” He pauses and Aelin just waits. It doesn’t seem like he’s quite done. “Rowan Whitethorn too. But I think his reputation is a bit different.”

It puts her in a bit of a weird position with a sharp taste in her mouth, wanting to defend her new friends to one of her oldest, but Chaol has to understand that how he sees them isn’t right.

“I don’t think either of them is quite how you think.” She says it gently because she doesn’t want to risk irritating Chaol with this. “Fenrys works really hard, you know. He’s putting a lot of work into understanding Rhys, Rowan too. He puts a lot of thought into what he does, he’s really smart.”

He’s watching her silently, his eyes shining with a question she doesn’t want to answer.

“You’ve written an incredible story Chaol, we all want to do it justice.”

The quirk of his eyebrow is somewhat impressed as he takes her in, but maybe there’s something more in there. Something that catches the difference between the way she talks about Fenrys compared to the way she talks about Rowan.

“I’m glad,” is all he says.

“It’s going well,” she says and truly believes it. “I’ve said it before, but it really is a work of art, Chaol.”

She pauses, her next words thick in her throat. “Thank you… for writing it, I mean. It means a lot to me, and I am honoured to play this part.”

He nods thankfully, and she knows he appreciates the compliment but his response is typical Chaol. Quiet and understated but shining with sincerity.

There’s a moment before the corner of his mouth pulls upwards and she knows he’s just about to turn the game around and tease her now.

“A part of me wishes I hadn’t written so many intimate scenes between them, the thought of you and Fenrys Moonbeam…” He trails off.

She tugs her lips inwards between her teeth, pleading with the blush on her neck not to rise. They haven’t got to those scenes yet, and she’s been avoiding the idea of them. She doesn’t want to think about what she’ll have to do with Fenrys in a couple of weeks.

Fenrys isn’t the problem though, she knows he’ll be professional and respectful. The problem is that Rowan will be there, watching them, watching her, and the idea plays with her in a dangerous way. Everything about Rowan feels dangerous to her, and gods if that isn’t half the draw.

“I know we joked before, but you do know you’re not my father? You’re worse than Aedion,” she laughs.

Chaol just shakes his head, “I’m allowed to look out for you.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but you’re only, what? Five years older than me?”

“Six. And Rowan Whitethorn is older than me.” The way he says it is noticeable, like he has a point to make.

“He is?”

So she didn’t know that, but it worries her how it doesn’t change things even a little bit. It doesn’t change how attractive he is, or the fact that she should be going nowhere near the idea of the two of them. She needs to call Elide, or her actual therapist.

“Yes, I think he was in the year above me at the Royal.”

She really doesn’t know all that much about him, hadn’t even known he went to the stage school in Adarlan.

What she knows is the fleeting moments she sees of him behind the camera, the expressions he makes when he’s impressed and when he’s not. She knows things like his coffee order, his hatred for the little pastries the catering department provide and how he doesn’t seem to drink alcohol. She knows about Lyria, but it’s from the internet, not him.

She doesn’t know him.

“Oh,” is all she manages.

Chaol eats another fry, watching her the whole time, and she wants him to look away. She has nothing to feel guilty about; they haven’t done anything. She has one, probably inadvisable, crush on her boss that she’ll speak to Elide about and get over. Then the movie will be done and she won’t ever have to see him again.

The dropping sensation in her stomach at the thought is less than desirable.

Chaol stays for a few days. He hangs around on set and sits in her chair while she films. It’s a pleasant kind of relief, tinged with an element of nostalgia, to have him around. He makes her feel like a kid again, and she feels herself looking towards him for approval when she desperately avoids how she wants to do the same to Rowan.

He relents on the second day, after having met Fenrys and Rowan properly, and admits to her that he thinks his baby is probably in good hands. She just says “I told you so,” because she’s a child and annoying Chaol is fun.

She’s sitting in Manon’s chair next to him, and they’re talking about Aedion. He and Chaol have a friendship she likes to pretend doesn’t stem from a mutual concern for her. Chaol is saying something about how he doesn’t envy Aedion’s schedule, but she’s barely listening.

Aelin’s watching where Rowan stands a few feet away. He’s wearing a soft-looking black sweatshirt and jeans, and she can’t help but imagine how it would feel to slip the sweatshirt on herself. How it would still be warm from his body, how the sleeves would trail way past her fingertips, how the smell of him would surround her.

He’s directing Manon, gesturing jaggedly with his hands and she’s nodding along. The shades of their hair almost match, Aelin notices absently, but she prefers the silver shine to Rowan’s compared to the clean-white of Manon’s. Rowan makes a gesture with his right hand and his fingers flex in a rhythmic movement, the elegant lengths of his fingers flowing freely in motion.

She wants to take that hand and put it on herself, she wants to run it down her side and between her thighs. She wants to take his fingers into her mouth and suck.

And like, what the fuck Aelin?

Texting Rowan is, objectively, a bad idea. Not that it’s a bad idea to text a colleague and ask to hang out, it’s just that that isn’t exactly what she wants to get from texting him. So yes; it’s a bad idea, and Aelin knows this, but she’s been thinking of doing it for a couple of days and the desire to do so hasn’t faded. She’s thought about it for long enough that she’s rationalised it, it’s not rash.

Aelin wants to know Rowan.

She taps away at her screen, hi rowan… No. That's not right. Aelin deletes it.

Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to… Nope. Not right either. She bites her lip while she backspaces the string of letters.

She wants to seem casual, so if he’s not into it it’s not awkward. Aelin’s a feminist, but she still doesn’t want to outright ask him out until she’s tested the waters a little more, got a bit of a better read on him and whether he could be into it or not.

She thinks he is, at least a little bit. She knows his eyes linger on her sometimes, sometimes her face, sometimes her arse. She likes it, but whether all he feels is attraction, or whether he feels the same as her is a mystery.

She still hasn’t spoken to Elide about it, but there’s a devil on her shoulder whispering that she’s probably past the point of no return already.

i’m sick of takeout, she types. want to go and grab a bite somewhere???

Aelin taps send before she can overthink it. She can always invite Fenrys to come along too if Rowan doesn’t seem keen on doing something just the two of us.

It’s not long before her phone buzzes with a response. You’re sick of takeout, so you want to go and eat out?

She chews the inside of her cheek, his response doesn’t really give her much. And while it’s not a rejection, it’s not a yes. Maybe her text was stupid, gods, why didn’t she think-

Her phone buzzes again. How about I cook something instead?

Much better. She smiles as she writes her response.

i don’t really want food poisoning :/// my boss might be a bit pissed if i can’t work

The bubble with the three dots pops up immediately, and her thumbs hover over the screen as she waits.

Ha. Ha. He sends, and she can’t fight the little laugh that escapes her as she imagines him rolling his eyes at her. His next text comes through pretty quickly. I’m on board with going out if you want, just thought something more private could be better.

And shit. There are a number of ways she could interpret that. Aelin’s trying not to read into things, things like Rowan saying he wants to go somewhere private with her, he could just be talking about paparazzi. Damn, he probably is just talking about paparazzi.

oh yeah sounds good actually but pls don’t poison me

He just sends a straight faced emoji.

Aelin leans back into her couch as he sends another follow up text.

Do you want to come here?

She could, but he hosted last time. And while she liked the atmosphere at Rowan’s house, she can’t deny that she likes the idea of him here. She likes the idea of seeing Rowan making his way around her kitchen, likes the idea of Rowan sitting opposite her at the end of this couch.

or you could come here????

She bites the corner of her nail as she stares at her screen, waiting for his response to come through.

Sure. I’ll swing by the store to grab some ingredients. How many people am I cooking for?

Aelin pauses, her thumbs hovering above the keyboard.

was thinking 2 but i can invite others if you want

She thinks that’s pretty clear, but it also puts the ball in his court. She’s the most nervous she’s been so far as she waits for his reply, and the three dots pop up before disappearing again. They pop up again, before finally his message comes through.

Don’t. His text reads. I’ll pick up enough for two.

His response is pretty clear too, and she smiles as she sends three thumbs up emojis.

Her apartment isn’t dirty, or even messy, but once she’s locked her phone she’s up and full of nervous energy. It’s probably presumptuous to make sure her bed is made, but she does it anyway. She leaves the leggings and oversized sweater she wears on, it’s casual, she’s chilled out. Or she can at least pretend to be.

She’s doing her last round of the apartment, keeping her eyes peeled for any stray socks or underwear that she could have left anywhere. A blush threatens her cheeks at the thought of Rowan and her underwear, but she forces it down when there’s a sharp knock at the door.

She swings the door open and there he is.

He looks good, as always, but today it’s highlighted by the deep green military-style jacket he has thrown on over his plain white t-shirt. The tan of his skin always looks good against bright white, and the green of his jacket draws out the depths of his green eyes.

“Hey,” she breathes as their eyes meet.

He smiles, a slightly crooked thing, and he just looks even more attractive. “Hey.”

He’s carrying a brown paper bag pressed against his side in his left hand, and she reaches out to take it from him as she steps aside to let him in. He steps in, but resists her grab for the bag, instead wrapping his right arm around her waist to pull her into a brief hug. “Thanks for having me.”

His words take her back to the first time she visited his house. The time with Fenrys and Manon and the football game. The visit with her and Rowan in his kitchen.

She’s nowhere near as stiff with him as she was then and she lets herself relax into the hug.

“I only let you in on the promise of food,” she says into his chest and feels more than hears his reluctant snort of laughter.

Every time they touch she’s struck by how much she likes it. How much she wants more. But then he pulls back, twisting to push her door shut.

“I feel like I should let you know now before we go any further that I can’t cook.”

Rowan only raises a brow.

“Seriously, when I was in college I set off the fire alarm in my residence at least three times.”

“Three times?” His eyes widen in playful disbelief. “What were you making?”

“Well,” she laughs. “The first time I was trying to make Lysandra a birthday cake but then I got distracted and left it in the oven for three hours. The fire department got called but it was not that big of a deal, there wasn’t a fire.”

There’s laughter dancing in his clear green eyes as she regales her tale of youth. She practically beams at the knowledge that she has put it there.

“But our kitchen did smell like smoke for the rest of the year.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re bad at cooking.” Rowan tilts his head down at her and she realises they’re still standing in her entryway. “That sounds like you don’t pay attention.”

Aelin shrugs at his teasing. “The third time was the worst. I was trying to do that thing where you put vodka in pasta sauce.”

“Gods,” Rowan’s laughing now and she loves the low rumble of the sounds. It pricks the hairs on her arm as the sound washes over her skin.

“There were some flames,” she confesses and he winces.

She didn’t have a completely normal college experience, she was acting part time in very minor roles during her time there but she managed to make some memories in her short time there. After Sam she dropped out and the memories always leave a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

Talking about this with Rowan and laughing at her silly little anecdotes is one of the first times it hasn’t hurt.

“Sucks to be an actor,” he says mockingly with a nod into her apartment as she finally leads him into the kitchen. The apartment she’s staying in is fine, more than fine, it’s actually a really great apartment and she tries to fake a frown through her smile.

Aelin shrugs. “We can’t all be big, household-name directors, living in glamorous mansions, too famous to go out to eat.”

She shoots him an amused look, and Rowan just smirks, tilting his head to the side in a way that exposes the length of his throat.

So maybe this was a fucking dangerous idea.

Inviting Rowan to her apartment had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he’s here, now he’s in her space, looking all… damn him, he looks so fucking good she feels flushed.

She used to think brunettes were her type, Chaol and Sam were both brunette, with tanned skin and brown eyes. Recently though, as much as she wants to resist it, her type has pretty much become Rowan.

Rowan with his silver hair, and green eyes. His low voice with it’s lilting accent from across the sea. His skin is tanned too, but she knows it comes from spending hours outside rather than genetics.

She hasn’t thought seriously about another man since they started filming, or more likely since the moment they met in the hallway.

And if she allows herself to admit it, probably a lot earlier than that.

She shakes herself as he watches her.

Rowan smirks at her as he places the bag on the counter. “We’ll have to try not to set this kitchen on fire.”

She’s perched atop her counter, with one knee crossed over the other, as she watches Rowan unpack the items from the bag. He’s shucked off the jacket by now, and the t-shirt he wears gives her uninterrupted access to the image of his toned arms and the tattoo that swirls down his left side.

She realises a moment too late that he’s asked her a question.

“What?”

She can tell Rowan knows why she didn’t respond, she just hopes it’s not too much for him. From the smirk he wears she thinks maybe not.

“I’m trying to teach you a valuable skill, it may help to pay attention.” She flips him off and revels in the dark flash of a smile he offers. “I asked if you have a frying pan.”

Aelin pulls a face, she hasn’t done a lot of cooking here past the basics like pasta and soup. Her microwave has been a trusty companion.

“I don’t know.” She waves a hand to the cupboards that line the side of the room. “Have a look in there.”

He gives her a look that tells her he’s deciding whether or not he likes her giving him orders, but then he turns to rummage through her cupboards before returning triumphant and waving the silver frying pan in her face.

“So, what are you making for me?” she asks as he finds a chopping board and unloads the hoard of vegetables he brought with himself.

“Veggie burgers,” he states simply, and she knows she pulls a face because he laughs. “Before you complain, they’re good for you. And they’re tasty.”

She still wrinkles her nose at him, unconvinced.

He cocks his head as he pauses his rhythmic chopping of the leafy green vegetable he has on the board. She’s trying desperately hard to make eye contact and not just stare at the motion of his hands, and his arms, and the ink swirling down his skin.

“Didn’t I promise not to poison you? Do you not trust me to take care of you?” Aelin doesn’t think she’s reading into things to hear the flirty tone to his voice.

“I’ll let you know after I’ve tried the burger.”

Rowan shakes his head at her, the ghost of a smile floating across his face as he resumes his chopping. “Ye of little faith.”

Aelin just shrugs, making a show of being sceptical by turning her nose.

“You could always help,” Rowan comments. “Or do you regularly invite guests around expecting them to make you a meal?”

“Tell me what to do, chef.” Aelin holds her hands out, ready for instruction. “I am yours to instruct.”

Rowan nods and reaches back into the bag and pulls out a can, he turns to find a bowl and a fork and places them in front of her. She’s impressed that in under half an hour he knows his way around her kitchen far better than she does.

“Mash these,” he says.

Her disgust isn’t pretend this time and her lip curls. “Mash these beans?”

Rowan nods.

“Mash them?”

“Yes, you do know what that means don’t you?”

Aelin hits him with the fork on the bicep and he laughs again, the sound smooth and rich in her stomach. “Shut up. You’re not convincing me this is going to taste good.”

Even so, she opens the can and is about to tip them into the bowl when Rowan grabs her hand. His fingers are warm and solid where they wrap around her own, and she snaps her eyes to his face at the contact.

“Rinse them first. You warned me and yet I still overestimated your ability in the kitchen.”

He’s smiling slightly, exposing the whites of his teeth, and he’s so close to her face. They’re almost level where she sits on the counter and Aelin swallows. His eyes are bright as he looks at her and she feels her smile grow involuntarily. Something flickers across his face before he clears his throat and steps back letting go of her hand. She misses his touch immediately after it’s gone.

Aelin slides off the bench and turns towards the sink to compose herself, she rinses the beans under the tap and Rowan stays silent while she does.

She turns back and tips them into the bowl and begins to mash as Rowan grates a carrot. Aelin really didn’t know her flat even came with these things.

“This is actually fucking disgusting.”

She’s managed to turn the bean mixture into a grey-ish mush. There’s no way this can taste good, she’s going to struggle even putting it in her mouth without retching.

Rowan snorts. “It’s good for you.”

Aelin wrinkles her nose again, but keeps going. It speaks volumes that she’s willing to trust Rowan on this.

It feels weirdly domestic to be here with him in her kitchen, and they move with an easy kind of synchrony. He adds his chopped vegetables to the bowl and she mixes them together as he readies the pan.

“Up for getting your hands dirty?” Rowan asks her once he’s done, and hell if Aelin doesn’t read far too much into that. The answer is yes.

“Always.” Sue her if she makes sure to look up at him through her lashes, and to bend forwards towards him as she rests her forearms on the kitchen counter.

“Grab a handful of the mixture,” He points to the contents of the bowl. “And shape it into a round patty.”

Aelin goes to put her hand tentatively into the bowl, it’s now a grey-ish mush with flecks of orange and green and she’s dreading it getting under her nails.

“Wait,” Rowan says, and he reaches out to roll the sleeves of her sweater up. It’s such a sweet gesture that it kind of takes her by surprise. The gentleness with which he holds her wrist as he rolls the fabric is nice, and she finds herself watching his face as he does it.

His brows pull together, in an expression she assumes is concentration, as he makes the careful motions. He looks good, she notes, not for the first time.

His thumbs and index fingers move down to squeeze the junction where her wrists meet her hands as he finishes and says, “there you go.”

“Thanks,” she breathes.

Aelin turns back to the bowl, attempting to somehow calm her heart. Rowan really needs to stop touching her if she wants to get over whatever this is. But now that he’s here, and he’s looking at her the way he is, and specifying that he wants to spend time with her, just the two of them…

It’s the first time she allows herself to consider that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t something that’s only dangerous. She finally allows herself to consider the idea that this could be fun, this could be something she could really enjoy. And here, in her apartment just the two of them, he doesn’t have to be her boss. He’s just Rowan and she’s just Aelin.

She really likes that thought.

Rowan clicks the pan on, and the sound startles her out of her head. Aelin hesitates before finally plunging her fingers into the mush and gods, she has some faith in Rowan if she’s going to even consider eating this.

It’s gross, but she manages to shape it into two round patties, and she places them into the pan when Rowan instructs.

Aelin washes her hands as Rowan pays attention to the burgers, and she retakes her seat on the counter after sorting out their plates and condiments. She might not be a great cook, but she can be a good host.

She watches him flip them a couple of times, taking the opportunity to ogle without risk of being caught staring. He has strong arms, and the tattoo snaking down his left makes her mouth water with every flex of his muscles. He has wide hands with long, almost elegant fingers that she wants to link through her own. Aelin is reminded, as he lifts the pan, of the thought she had the other day when he was directing Manon.

It wasn’t the first time she had considered Rowan in a sexual way, but it was the most direct, and she’s not complaining, but sometimes it makes it a little difficult to concentrate in his presence.

Finally, he switches the heat off and turns to place the patties in their buns. Aelin has to admit they look a little better now that they’re cooked, but she’s still not convinced.

He presents her with the plate, wearing a bashful little smile, and she’s taken by how adorable she finds it. He’s actually nervous to hear what she thinks.

She slathers it in ketchup, hoping to make it somewhat palatable and lifts it to her lips, about to take a bite when he speaks.

“We’re eating here?”

Aelin pauses, putting the burger back on her plate. “Where else would we eat?”

Rowan shrugs, still holding his own plate. He doesn’t put any ketchup on his and she’s trying not to be disgusted. She taps the bench next to herself, and Rowan seems to deliberate for a moment before finally hopping up at her side. He towers over her again now that they’re on an even playing field and she likes it. She likes how much bigger he is than her, and likes it even more how she still feels safe with him.

“Okay, now go,” he says, still apprehensive of her reaction, and Aelin makes a big deal of taking a deep breath before her first bite.

She chews it all silently before swallowing, working to keep her expression neutral, and Rowan doesn’t look away from her face the whole time. She purses her lips afterwards, and waits for him to speak.

“So?”

“It’s not terrible,” she admits with a small smile creeping up the sides of her mouth.

Rowan quickly takes his own bite, and she watches the way his fingers dwarf the same bun that fills her hands. He hums his own pleasure.

“Not terrible,” he repeats. “Admit it, it’s good.”

She flips a strand of hair over her shoulder before she takes another bite. She was sceptical -- more than -- when it was still a mush, but she has to admit it’s tasty, and very Rowan. She doesn’t know for sure he’s a health nut, but based on the parts of his body that she’s seen and his distaste for all things sweet, she can guess.

“Maybe,” is all she says before taking another bite. He watches her with a smug smile, one she desperately wants to get rid of. It isn’t helpful that the way she wants to do so is by kissing him.

“Oh!” She jumps down from the counter, throwing her plate to the side, suddenly reminded. “You know what I have that would go perfectly with this?”

She grabs two glasses out of the cupboard and sets them down on the bench in between where she’s been sitting and Rowan. Aelin turns to the fridge before pulling out the small bottle.

Rowan groans, and she tucks the sound to the back of her mind. “Aelin,” he starts. “I don’t want any of that.”

“Come on,” she cries. “A milkshake is an essential with a burger and this is the best I have to offer. If I’d thought ahead I could have at least found a bottle of wine to go with the dinner you cooked for me.”

She’s not entirely sure why she said it, especially when she’s pretty sure she’s deduced that he doesn’t drink, and the reason for it, but it feels like an automatic apology that just slips off her tongue whenever she’s in a setting where alcohol could be a presumption.

Rowan’s expression locks down at her comment and she immediately regrets it.

“Um-” she starts but Rowan clears his throat.

“It’s okay,” he says slowly, avoiding her gaze, “I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” Aelin all but whispers, and it surprises her when Rowan lets out a dark huff of laughter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m guessing you know why.”

His voice has a somewhat bitter edge to it that she hates.

“I wasn’t-”

She stops when he finally looks up at her and she sees his expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says again quickly and he only shakes his head and pats the counter at his side.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes her retake her seat at his side and pick her burger back up, taking a bite as he takes a breath.

“It’s not something that usually falls into casual dinner conversation.”

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

It’s something she isn’t sure she realised the importance of at first. The offer of whether to share or not. She fights a desperate war inside of herself every time conversations head down a lane like this. The desire to scream her story from the rooftops squaring off against the desperation to remain closed up where no one will ever know what bubbles just below the surface.

Usually privacy wins. Usually she swallows those words down and stays quiet, keeping this reel of pain and loss and tragedy buried deep within, but here with Rowan, tucked away in the kitchen of her temporary home, the words don’t feel so daunting.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s often something that makes other people feel uncomfortable. They pity the guy with the dead fiancée”—Aelin blinks past the way his voice wavers—“but they don’t want to actually hear about it. I’ll spare you the gorey details but after that I couldn’t bring a drink to my lips again. I’ve never so much as considered it — never wanted to.”

There’s an ache beginning in her chest, and she puts her burger back down on her plate. Rowan hasn’t touched his since his first few bites. She desperately wants to comfort him, wants to place a hand on his shoulder and take the pain away any way she can, but she knows from experience that it can’t be done.

This kind of pain, this grief, is something that can’t be taken away. She lives with her grief and her guilt after Sam every day of her life, and she thinks she will forever. No matter how many therapy sessions she goes to, no matter how many days and weeks and months pass, Sam will always be a part of her. Scrawled across her heart in his messy penmanship.

“I understand,” she says quietly. “More than you’d think.”

This is the moment where she could probably finish, where she could twist the conversation back to Rowan and pat his shoulder sympathetically, or where she could tug it to somewhere new and safe.

But she doesn’t often get opportunities like this, in the dim light and the quiet of her flat where the only other sound is the noise coming from the hood above her cooker. She doesn’t often get to talk about this with someone who truly understands.

All of her friends tried in the months after Sam, and gods bless them they still do, but none of them were as close to Sam as she was. They were upset for Aelin and her loss, not at the loss of Sam. And Rowan, who sits next to her staring at the floor, she thinks he could understand.

His gaze lifts from the floor to meet hers as she begins to speak.

“His name was Sam,” she says and Rowan nods.

“I know.”

Aelin feels her breath leave her chest in a whoosh.

“I saw some of the headlines at the time, Aelin I’m so sorry.”

Her jaw works as she tries to find the words, any words, to respond to that. But she’s shaken. She didn’t think anyone knew, or even noticed, outside of her immediate circle. But then she thinks back to the dinner they shared, the way his gaze had burned into her when the conversation had turned to her break. He knows — he has known — and he gets it.

She shakes her head, composing herself enough to speak. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His lips twist as she repeats his words back to him.

She doesn’t mean to say, “I knew about Lyria too,” but Rowan just nods, breaking their gaze to stare down at where their hands lie beside each other with an expression she can’t read.

Aelin knows she shouldn’t, for any number of reasons, but she reaches out to twine their fingers together atop the marble of her countertop. His fingers are rough and calloused between her own but the thumb he rubs against the back of her hand is gentle and reassuring.

He doesn’t speak, but there isn’t anything Aelin feels the need to say. It’s a kindred kind of silence, one borne of more pain than either of them could bear to speak aloud, and there’s an awful feeling of comfort in it. She knows he’s thinking of Lyria the way she’s thinking of Sam. But there is a part of her mind, a part that’s like a rising sun creeping above the horizon to break the shadow of night, that’s thinking of Rowan too.

Eventually she picks her burger back up again, it’s cold now but she can reluctantly admit it doesn’t taste horrendous. Their fingers stay linked as they each eat single-handedly, building themselves back up to sharing short stories and playful quips.

She’s glad she invited him, her boss or not.

[dynamoe]

Hey! I read your fanfics on Billy and White and gotta say as a fellow writer: the language is GOOD. The only thing that concerns me is their relationship. All the mean jokes, slaps and mental abuse from White? Don’t you think it’s toxic? I just don’t see him doing this stuff. I mean, the whole episode in the airport with White literally hitting Billy over picking a magazine. Isn’t it too much? I’m sorry if you get upset with this message but I, quite a grown person (idk, I’m 18) literally had a mental breakdown because of this treatment. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a toxic household. But that was very shocking for me :(

Pete gave Billy a slap on the knuckles for grabbing the wrong magazine* to evoke the teacher/student dynamic. More belittling than physical (toxic but familiar for Catholic school kids). edit to add: I just remembered this happened in a season 7 episode when Billy reaches for an OSI agent's gun and White slaps his hand away.

Billy gives as good as he gets. (in that same chapter, Billy kicks Pete in the shins for skipping the security line. He mocks Pete's powerpoint and in chapter 7, fucks with his nametag)

I'm sorry if my take their dynamic is upsetting you. I think it's consistent with their canonical on-screen relationship (which is hardly healthy). I'm not going to get angry over a reader's reaction, I'll thank you for reading it in the first place.

Being just 18 and (I would assume) not very far removed from that toxic household would totally make you react to casual cruelty in fiction in a more personal way. That's perfectly understandable.

It's also key to remember, White is not his parent and they're both (incredibly immature) adults. Also, of course, remember none of this is real.

thanks for caring enough to ask a question. dynamoe.tumblr.com/ask

↓ more details under the fold ↓

I can throw up my hands and say "it was a different era." Cruelty hidden behind "irony" was the mindset of the '90s. "Ironic racism" "Ironic sexism." To never be genuine, never be vulnerable, always be detached from emotion, frame real experience as pop culture or a joke for distance. (I had planned on dissecting that worldview on in a later story at some point.)

You can see some evidence of this in the films of the era. Look at Clerks, read through Ghost World. Friends are just roasting or slamming on each other constantly. The first couple of seasons of VB are stuffed with casual cruelty in most interactions. But, hey, THAT'S COMEDY, BABY! (Comedians are incredibly toxic people. Don't befriend any.)

In my life, some of the closest friends I've known are just as sharp with each other. Granted, everyone I know is a broken person but it's a dynamic I see all the time. The people you feel the most comfortable with are the ones you dig into the most. It's never a full on attack just a constant pick pick pick needling them.

Male friendships tend to adopt the model more often; maybe they've been poisoned to think undisguised affection is too feminine?

https://dynamoe.tumblr.com/ask

__

*unless you're referring to his "slap him sane" treatment to "snap him out" of having a seizure? I'm riffing on the "folk cure" for hysteria (slapping a woman for freaking out) which makes as much sense as the "folk cure" for stopping a dog from biting by putting your finger up its butt.

[bangtan-gwenchana]

안녕하세요! ~

I wanted to share my first actual spending for BTS. First of all, I'm a new aRMy about 3 months old but I've always see BTS on my feeds before but I just recently put my effort into liking and actually have fallen in love with them. And I think I cannot turn my back now.

For the reason that adulting hits me so hard, I really can't spend on merchandise and physical albums 'cos Im broke and living to pay bills. So this is my first actual spent for our boys.

Well anyways, this movie actually gave me an opportunity to have a closer look to our lovely boys on stage and off stage. And also this is the closest that I can be with them. I wanted to attend to their concert and I hope I can. Pleaseeeeee! ~

I watched Burn The Stage The Movie on it's first day November 15 2018 together with my friend who is also a fan. We planned to watch it together because she's visiting the Philippines for a short time and we'd watched it together because we love them so much.

So basically, we watched the movie with no subtitles. We asked the staffs if the first screening also didn't have subtitles; they said yes and there was no info that it was released with subs. I was very disappointed. You can imagine how hard it is for non-korean people to watched the movie. I know we can enjoy bangtan bombs with no subs but after they'd post it, our kind-hearted translators translate it for us I-armys out of love. But no, this is not the case for the movie. No one knows if this will be released on dvd or Netflix and if ever yes it will surely take time.

As we watched the movie, I just looked at the screen with my eyes full of love and admiration for them. Everything was raw. I just felt every words of narration. I laughed as I see them laugh, sad when I see them tired and you can say that I really felt every emotions that they've shown through the length of this movie.

As the movie came to an end and how it shows their serious faces and with the tone of their voices I know that if I understand what they are saying I might be sobbing at the theatre.

To my dismay, as we leave the movie house I read some tweets and saw that there was subtitles for every language, most specifically in my country. And there was a released from the distributor that they provided subtitle and no dubbing for this movie. So I immediately talked to one of the staff and raised my concern. And she just said that there was really no subtitle for the said movie.

You can imagine how stressed I am because this is my first spending for bangtan and I will not allow to end it like this. So I talked to my cousin who works for the same company and told her my story.

The head office of the cinema was alarmed with my concern and immediately took action. And yes, I got to watch the movie again. This time for real. It is much sweeter the second time around. The amount of joy and laughter I felt from my first screening was twice when I understood every bit of what they are saying.

BTS are the most pure and genuine celebrity as far as I'm concern. They are the kind of talented artist that are so humble and humane. They are not afraid to show every bit of emotion they have on and off cam/stage. They cry when they are sad, they laugh their asses off when they are feeling euphoric. And lastly, they always say they will work harder and be better, where for us, ARMYs they are already the best.

⚠️ Spoiler alert ⚠️

One of my favorite part was their pool party. It clearly shows that they are still normal people who lives. They are just people who apparently are famous but still are young adults who wanted to enjoy their life at the moment. As narrated and through the screen we saw how they are having the time of their life: "Though we are always together, being together brings us greater joy." From that moment from hearing loud laughters came in silence. I bet my 2 cents everybody inside the theatre watching felt that pinch in their heart.

They can't be separated, not at this time. It was clearly seen at BV3 how they are used to have 7 people around and BV2 when Seokjin said that he feels anxious when they are not around and compared BTS members as cellphone that you always have.

Bangtan Sonyeondan are brothers binded by bond. They are meant to meet one another. I know they have their respective red strings tangled with each other.

Another favorite of mine was when Taehyung dedicates 4'o'clock to Hansung. As he talks and relay his message to Hansung, with him inside the moving van and with 4'o'clock as the bgm it touched my heart. Hansung will forever be special, his first character, someone very close to his heart.

/pcto/

And yes, the song somehow fits them. He also said that Hansung was his inspiration. I personally love that song that it makes me feel at ease. It helps me sleep at night. Tae's voice is my tranquilizer.

And my most favorite part was when they had a talked with Bang PDnim. It was as if they were having a conversation with their father. A father who is scared that his sons might lose their happiness in exchange for their dreams. He wanted them to loosen up, he also wanted them to be happy. I actually cried on that part. 😭

I also saw the screen for Wings Tour Manila. I'm in awe as I saw Fly high Philippine ARMY on the screen. I'm proud and it motivates me to watch their concert in my country. Patiently waiting for LY Tour PH 2019.

/pcto/

And Yeontan with Uncle Hobi really swept all my tears away. What a show stealer!

Who will not love these boys when they are these grateful to their fans, ARMYs. No one has been these grateful.

I am so scared how they relay their message in this documentary. It's as if they are ready to whatever will happen. They know they are flying high today but they know that eventually they will fall. But what's good about falling is that they know that ARMYs are always there to catch them. They surely know how to treasure every moment because they know that everything is temporary. That's how humble my stan group is. Years may pass as they see this movie my boys will keep ballin' ballin' still bangtan!

I love bangtan so much. I can't explain where this love is coming from but I am always praying for them.

I know that they are already living their dreams. My only wish and blessing for Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook that may they always find happiness in what they are doing. To always seek and look out for each other. To always find the light and not to lose their smile. I love them so much that I always pray that their hearts will feel peace.

I will fight for you, for your music, for your talent, for your passion, and for these 7 young wonderful boys that I still have to meet. I can't wait for that to happen. Wait for me. 알았지?!

Always keep things bright my bangtan! ~

Anyeong! ~

Mahal na mahal ko kayo! ~💜

I love you so much! ~💙

방탄소년단 사랑합니다! ♥