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#also this story was supposed to be so much shorter than it is

ashoss · 2 days

Note

Hii!! This is waterunderthebridge12, I just stumbled across your art of The Robin Declaration and it made my entire week <3333. I love Duke so much and I'm so glad there are others who love him too!!! I would love if you dropped your Duke-centric fic recs, I've only read a few good ones (that aren't just him being an outsider) so any recs are appreciated!

oh my god! hii! im so glad u liked the silly little doodle lol i would love to do an actual drawing for either The Robin Generation or the Robin Declaration !! they were such fun reads and i absolutely adored the way you portrayed all of them <33

unfortunately i dont really have a lot of duke-centric fics but i have a couple!

WHEN EARTH FINDS STARS. by orpheusaki

duke & jason, pre-WAR and signal

15.8k words, 4 chapters (unfinished)

"Let it be known that I completely detest the implications of what this situation is mirroring," Red Hood grumbles to himself and it's the longest string of words Duke has heard from any so-called Gotham vigilante, let alone the one who's known for shooting more than he is talking. "The fuck?" Duke mutters, because if he's already going to die, he might as well try and make sense of it. "I'm not going to care about whatever sob story you have," is what Red Hood replies with instead of explaining, "Where are your parents?" "Gone," is all Duke says, because it's really none of this guy's business. It's also the truth. Somehow, Red Hood sounds even more anguished about this information than Duke is, "Ah shit." (Duke steals the tires off Red Hood's bike and somehow gains a family.)

YOU HEAR ITS SONG FROM THE MORNING BIRDS. (series) by orpheusaki

duke & bruce, duke & batfam

9k words, 3 words (unfinished)

A series of Duke Thomas centric works, mostly featuring his growing relationship with his new kind-of-dad-boss-friend, Bruce Wayne.

Keep Your Head, Your Backbone, and Your Heart by MrMich

duke & tim, alfred, bruce

54k words, 6 chapters

The last thing that Duke expected on what was supposed to be just a regular patrol was being suddenly thrown five years into the past, coming face to face with a darker, more violent Batman than the one he knew, a broken family, and a Tim who was a foot shorter than Duke, and not even Robin yet.

A silent shadow flitted past him, just barely visible on the cave walls. He went rigid, tracking the shadow in the corner of his vision. And then he dropped to the floor, just in time, as a familiar black gloved fist passed overhead. He just barely missed being hit by the punishing blow that would have landed right on his temple for a sure concussion if he hadn’t dodged. “Batman?” Duke yelled. He somersaulted forward, just barely avoiding another strike. “B, what are you doing?!” “Who are you,” came the growled response. A shiver crawled down Duke’s spine at the grim hostility in Batman’s voice that promised violence, and something tightened in the back of his throat.

Family-- by incorrectbatfam

duke & batfam

3.3k words, 1 chapter

“Your assignment over the weekend is to write a poem about your family.”

Strange Bedfellows by snackbaskets

duke & steph & jason

2.7k words, 1 chapter

Little known fact about bats: they're AWFUL at sleeping alone. At least, the ones in the Manor seem to be, if the half-conscious kind-of-maybe siblings using Duke as a body pillow are any indication. When did he sign up for this?

Ghosts Of The Past by PlatitudinalTeen

duke & martha, thomas, duke & bruce

7.2k words, 1 chapter

Shortly after moving into Wayne manor, Duke discovers he can commune with the dead when his grandparents, Thomas and Martha Wayne begin to accidentally haunt him. ------- "No powers?" Duke repeated, even more confused as he tried to recall everything he had ever heard about Ghosts. "So, you can't possess anyone or make the lights flicker? What about telekinesis and all the other scary stuff from the books and movies?" "Those things can only be achieved by malicious spirits, dear," Martha told him. "We may be ghosts, but we aren't vengeful." They had made peace with their deaths, and even if they were still tied to the manor, it was exactly where they wanted to be. Thomas chuckled. "Yes, that's more of our son's department," he quipped, using his fingers to mimic Batman's ears. "Vengeance is a young man's game, really."

Starshine by zodarii_dae

duke & bruce, reverse robins

3.6k words, 1 chapter

Duke Thomas is a Gothamite, through and through. There’s not a lot he knows for certain, but he knows that the bagels are great, that Bruce Wayne is stupid rich, and that Batman will always protect him. That’s just how it is. So when Batman promises to bring him to his family, he believes him. Neither of them expected it to happen quite the way it did, but it all works out for the best. Or How Duke loses his parents, gains a new family, and becomes a vigilante- in that order, with some stuff in between.

necessary reminders by Quillium

duke & batfam

5.2k words, 1 chapter

Duke, as Signal becomes known and as Duke becomes part of the Wayne family.

*ao3 acc needed

hope you enjoy !!!

#there is a severe lack of duke content and it makes me really sad #duke thomas #fic recs #long post #ashbox

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

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Love your stories❤️❤️ can I request a female reader who touches Alastors ears and tail for the first time please? Thank you

Oh, jeez. Sorry, this took so long, life happened, as it always does, when I finally got the swing of things. This is also super short, if you would like to see more, or if this wasn't at all like you expected, I apologize. You can reach back out!

Fuzzy

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader (not really explicitly stated).

Warnings/tags: Soft Alastor, Literally, petting, Alastor's ears, fluff

Word count: 466

Typically, Alastor hated it when people touched him. He hated the way it sent itching up his arms and straight up his spine. He hated how vulnerable it made him, no matter how much he would deny it outwardly. People touching him wasn’t his favorite thing, but you weren’t people.

So here he was, acquiescing to the strange request you had made only moments before, bending over so you could reach the top of his head. You were shorter than himself by more than a head, so it was necessary, and he refused to sit down.

Your eyes were full of delight as you slowly reached towards the ears flicking about on his head. A small hand finally got close enough to the base of his right ear, and he watched your face with an unmoving smile. Then your fingers finally touched the ear, and your soft fingers rubbed with the grain of his fur.

“Oh!” You let out a noise of pure glee as you rubbed the ear. Your other hand captured the left ear, and began to softly pet it. “They’re so soft!”

Alastor could only let out a huff. His eyes slid closed so he could focus on the tender stroking. It wasn’t all terrible, he supposed. Your hands were soft, and you were cognitive of the direction of his fur, and how to treat it right.

The more small noises you made, and the longer you rubbed at his ears, the more he wished he had sat down. Now he would have to admit that he liked it, in order to have you continue. It was a conundrum, and he wasn’t sure how to face it.

“Do you have a tail,” you asked, a sly smile on your face. You pulled your hands back slowly, letting them fall back down to your sides. You rolled your shoulders, and gave Alastor an expectant look.

“You can find out, if,” He hesitated just the slightest amount. “If you continue that in my room. Away from any possible prying eyes.” Alastor darted his eyes around, and saw nothing. In Hell, however, that didn’t mean much. With a hand against the small of your back, he started leading you. He didn’t need you to verbalize your answer, the elation splitting your face was answer enough.

He would never admit it outside that room, but he could very easily have fallen asleep for the first time in a long time, under the pleasant ministrations of your fingers.

Remember, you can join my taglist by replying to my pinned post! It helps me keep track!

@girl-nahh-two @numetalnerd2007 @justchillingandhavingfun @alastor-simp @thonethatflies620 @lemonyboy97 @fairyv-ice

#alastor x reader #bun's short fics #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fluff #fanfic

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eideticallys · 11 months

Text

Who's Your Barber?

request: based on this.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “you move fast, kid.” he turned to spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

genre: fluff

word count: 852

author's notes: hello! i'm back with another spencer reid tooth-rotting fluff without plot. this was based on a request sent to me. i hope you'll love this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

“DO YOU THINK MY HAIR’S TOO LONG?”

You looked up from where you were working on a pile of paperwork from a recent case only to stare at a pouting Spencer.

Cute, you thought.

“Why?” You asked, now facing the man in front of you who was busy fretting over his hair. “Is it bothering you?”

“No, not really.” He mumbled. “I just—I don’t know. I want to keep it this way because it’s always been kind of on the longer side but I also want to try cutting it short.”

A bit shy from his admission, Spencer started fiddling with the hair tie on his wrist, obviously not that comfortable implying that he did care about his looks even for a small bit.

You almost cooed at how adorable he’s being for a grown man.

“Okay,” You prodded him again, wanting to make sure you understood what he was trying to say. “So, you wanna try a new haircut but you’re not sure about it. Well, I can help you with that.”

Spencer looked up from where he was playing with his hair tie and scrunched up his brow in question.

“How?”

You instantly blushed at what you were about to suggest when you noticed Spencer being all for it. The thing about Spencer is that he’s a great listener as much as he likes to talk. Coming from a household where he never got to have a good companion unless his mom was doing okay, Spencer knew what it felt like when no one wanted to listen to whatever it was one has to say. With all your doubts starting to vanish at Spencer’s obvious interest, you shared your thoughts.

“Well,” You decided to share. It’s not like you would recount to him an embarrassing childhood story. That’s a story meant for another day. “I may or may not have worked at my aunt’s salon over the summer back when I was in high school. I wasn’t a hairstylist but learned a thing or two.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in wonder. You no longer regretted sharing your experience and were sure he was about to share a tangent on hairstyling in typical Dr. Spencer Reid fashion.

“Archaeologists discovered that cutting our hair and styling it have both been practiced by human beings as early as the Ice Age.” Spencer babbled. “Also, they said that people’s social class, age, ethnicity, race, and genetics determined the style of their hair throughout history even up to the late 20th century.”

You grinned at Spencer’s info dump and ruffled his hair, to which he scrunched his nose.

“So, Reid,” You replied. “When are we gonna cut your hair?”

“What, did you join a boy band?”

Everyone around the table started giggling and smiling as soon as Hotch directed the question at Spencer, as your cheeks reddened. Unfortunately for Spencer, you being a former employee at your aunt’s salon certainly did not do you wonders. Because what was supposed to be a trim here and there became a short haircut for him, quite shorter than what he has envisioned, he shared with you.

You almost dug yourself a hole right then and there.

But apparently, Spencer liked it enough—loved it even—to not hate you for cutting his hair too short. It’s fortunate—for him and especially for you who gets to see him in his new hair every day—that Spencer was pretty. He looked good both in long and short hair.

However, with Hotch asking him that question, you were sure Spencer would hate you for cutting it wrongly.

“No?” Spencer replied as his brows crinkled. You breathed a sigh of relief with his answer, which Rossi didn’t fail to notice.

You were about to head out when Hotch just announced, “Wheels up in 30.” When you heard Rossi speak to Spencer

“I like your hair, kid.” You almost smiled until Rossi questioned him. “Who’s your barber? Maybe I’ll get myself the same haircut.”

As if it couldn’t get any worse, you heard Morgan join in on the conversation, like both he and Rossi knew something you don’t. Spencer probably didn’t know what that something was too.

“Yeah, pretty boy. Who’s your barber?”

Spencer looked like he had swallowed a frog and he had seen a ghost with how comical he looked right now.

It seemed Spencer knew what Rossi and Morgan were trying to imply in their prodding.

“It seems to me,” Rossi continued. “It was our lovely Y/N who cut his hair.”

At this, your eyes widened as Derek smirked.

“You move fast, kid.” He turned to Spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

Spencer likes you back?

As in more than friends?

Non-platonic?

Spencer likes you back!

“Shut up!” Spencer screeched.

“Let’s leave the kids alone.” Rossi appeased Spencer while looking at you. “They have a date to plan.”

Spencer sputtered out as both men chuckled while moving out.

“So, Reid.” You simpered. “Where are we going for our first date?”

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99thpercentile · 7 months

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I get the feeling that I'm in the minority here, but I posit that GLaDOS actually is Caroline, and only "not the same person" in the sense that you'd look at your younger self and be like "that bitch ain't me." I think you actually have to go out of your way to interpret them as two separate people.

evidence:

voiced by the same person (I know the initial reasoning was that Valve didn't want to hire another voice actor for a few lines, but in casting Ellen McLain as Caroline, they incorporated her being the same person into the story).

GLaDOS automatically joins in saying "Yes sir, Mister Johnson" like saying it is permanently ingrained in her. you can interpret this as Caroline taking over, but she says "Why did I just—" immediately afterwards.

when GLaDOS talks about hearing the voice of a conscience, she says "for the first time it's MY voice." I don't think she means that she's hearing the woman she gets her literal voice from. she highlights it as distinctly DIFFERENT from hearing the voices of the cores, and I imagine if Caroline were a foreign entity whispering in her ear, the effect would've been much the same.

the GLaDOS project was originally started because Cave was dying and wanted his consciousness uploaded to a computer. the intent was always for the upload to be the same person. he said if he died first, he wanted Caroline to run the place, to be put in his computer. and that's exactly what happened.

GLaDOS not remembering she's Caroline until old Aperture always made sense to me as the result of a deliberate choice on the part of the scientists. Caroline didn't want to be uploaded, and as soon as they switched GLaDOS on, she tried to kill everyone. it's logical for the scientists to think that if they suppressed her memories, she'd have no reason to try to kill them (but instead, she was just filled with murderous rage and no longer knew why).

the story just doesn't have the same impact otherwise. GLaDOS's reactions to rediscovering old Aperture make more sense if it's her past she's rediscovering, rather than the past of...a human that was shoved into the chassis with her. if it were the second one, I think she would just feel violated, not have any major revelations.

counter-evidence:

"now little Caroline is in here too" lyric from Want You Gone

GLaDOS says she found out "where Caroline lives in [her] brain" and deleted her, like she's a separate entity

but GLaDOS is a habitual liar. she acts like deleting Caroline means she's fully back to her old self and has gotten rid of the part of her that made her want to save Chell's life, but there's...lots of evidence that she still cares about Chell after the fact (letting her go anyway, the companion cube, the turret opera if you think GLaDOS arranged that, talking to the co-op bots about Chell like she's an ex she's still heartbroken over...). I also think GLaDOS would like to imagine her and Caroline as two separate entities, in the same way you might find your younger self embarrassing and want to distance yourself from that person. I think it's notable that both instances where she refers to Caroline as a separate entity are at the end of the game, after Chell has been passed out a while and she's had time to process everything and compartmentalize. her instinct when the revelations are first happening is to refer to Caroline as if she is her.

now I don't like stories where a robot has to become or be seen as more human in some way for them to be sympathetic. but I think Portal 2 is an excellent subversion of this trope, because GLaDOS is a robot that learns she used to be human and then discards that humanity (symbolically if not literally). Caroline may not have wanted to be uploaded, but from the Want You Gone lyrics "one day they woke me up / so I could live forever / it's such a shame the same will never happen to you" I think we can say that GLaDOS definitely prefers being a robot now that she is one.

anyway this post was supposed to be much shorter than this, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#GLaDOS #Caroline #Portal #Portal 2 #original #wall of text

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neowinestainedress · 8 months

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between us — johnny suh

title: between us

pairing: professor!johnny x lawyer!oc x fem!reader | husband!johnny x wife!oc x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself tangled in the life of the Suhs after Mr. Suh starts working as an English professor at your father’s university. You don’t understand why they float around you so much, but soon enough, you can’t get enough of that secret, dirty game anymore.

genre: smut, fluff, plot, mxfxf, married couple, established relationship, age gap, bisexual characters, aged up johnny (to his early 30)

warnings: age gap, daddy/mommy issues, smut, sexual tension, 3some, mxfxf, dom/sub dynamics, mdom, fdom(oc), fsub(reader), mentions of s*x toys, unprotected s*x, pet names (honey, babe, doll...), or*l s*x (reader receiving and fem giving), fing*ring (reader receiving and fem giving), n!pple play, dirty talk, praise, minor degradation, size k!nk, 1 face slap, 1 *ss slap, 1 cl!t slap, hair pulling, talks of face f*cking, dp and face sitting, sub space, overstimulation, reader goes non-verbal at the end, aftercare | inclusivity notes: reader’s hair can be grabbed bc i’m degenerated and needed to write hair pulling during or*l, there are no descriptions of the texture and type tho, reader wears hair in different hairstyles (not specified), reader feels small because she’s shorter than them and in general feels ‘intimidated’ (body type is not specified), no use of y/n

visuals

wc: 16.590k

a/n: i’m sure this isn’t what people were expecting when i talked about writing mxfxf, but what can i say, this idea came to me and i had to write it. at first, it was supposed to be less complicated, just hot steamy sex with two hot almost-dilf-and-milf but you know me by now, if it’s not deep and complicated we don’t write it here. disclaimer: they are all bi and this is not just a straight couple using a bisexual person to spice up their s*xual life, i can’t say more because i don’t want to spoil anything but i just wanted to make this clear. i hope you’ll enjoy, if you do please leave feedback with asks or reblog (so the story reaches more people) also this is the first time i write smut between two women so please let me know if it’s good!! love u ♡

The Suhs are by now a known presence in your life. Since Mr. Suh started teaching at your father’s university, it became almost impossible to not see him for more than two days straight.

You don’t feel like blaming your father. Actually, you get it. Mr. Suh is a charming, brilliant man in his early thirties. After years of studying and being an assistant, he started teaching English literature at another prestigious university, the one your father is president of. And in his free time —and you wonder how he did that— he even wrote a few books, the first ones being analyses of writers’ works, and then a successful mystery novel.

You like him, even if he intimidates you a bit. He’s a person you can have interesting conversations with, maybe too interesting. You can’t understand what hides behind his elegant attire; either suits and ties or brown pants and polos or vests, his brown hair is always pulled back, only occasionally some loose strands fall on his forehead and make him appear less put together. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him dressed casually, or crack a joke, but then again, it’s not really your place to know.

But Mr. Suh, also known as Johnny, is never alone when he comes to your parents’ house, or tags along at dinners, parties, and more, anything that your father likes to organize with his academic clique.

His wife, Aaliyah Taylor Suh, is always with him. She’s not less interesting or intimidating than him. Mrs. Suh is a drop-dead gorgeous woman in her early thirties like her husband. She’s an amazing lawyer, working at one of the top firms in the city, and probably that’s also why she comes off as piercing to you, it’s like she always knows what to say and do, and you struggle to keep up. And just like her husband, it’s also in the way she presents herself; she’s always perfect with her long goddess braids that reach her waist which is always perfectly hugged by the beautiful, expensive suits or dresses she wears.

This should pretty much sum up why you don’t talk much with them, even if they’re nice —at least it seems from the few conversations you had— you don’t feel at their level. Not only do they look like gods in your eyes, but they also fit the perfect stereotype of the rich, powerful couple that makes heads turn around every time they walk into a room —yours included— and the small, yet significant, age gap only makes it worse.

It would be easier to talk with them if your father wouldn’t constantly remind you that. He always had a passion to turn you and your dreams down, but since they are part of your life, it only worsened. Your father never misses the occasion to point your flaws out; how clumsy you are, walking around and stumbling on your own feet, dropping things every now and then, and messing up your words during speeches. Instead, he’s amazed by their brains and how quickly they became successful, they spent years on books and still never lost each other and found time to get married, they accomplished everything you haven’t, and it seems impossible for him to not slam it in your face.

And you agree, partially. You envy them. They seem to always be at the right place, at the right time, never saying a word wrong, and always looking straight out of Vogue. You’re also jealous of their love, you don’t know what a stable relationship looks like —not that you care to know, nobody your age seems to be doing it for you— unlike their stable, lasting marriage that is the deal closing off a just as long period of dating. They were high-school sweethearts, and you envy the way they still look at each other. Nobody ever looked at you like that, as if you meant the world to them. And you don’t understand how they survived all these years, you almost went insane during college, the two relationships you tried to have failed like a ship sinking in a storm. And now that you’re free, you’re still suffering the aftermath of all the stress you’ve been through.

So you struggle to understand why they circle around you like moths to a flame.

It all started months ago. At first, it was only longing gazes, you could always feel them on you, and you always thought that there was something wrong with you; your make-up smudged, your hair out of place, your clothes dirty or crumpled up, but, even if you weren’t like them, there was nothing wrong with you.

Then, one night, things started to make more sense.

It was late, around 10 pm. As much as you couldn’t stand your father, you tried to tag along as much as possible to find some connections career-wise. You could’ve asked him a favour —doubting he would do it— but you had no intention of making him take credit for your future. You preferred talking with his academic friends or critics on your own, it hadn’t been successful yet, but you won’t give up.

You were standing in the kitchen, a glass in hand as you tried to drown in the alcohol and forget every word you had heard from your father when Mr. Suh approached you first.

“Tiring, isn’t it?” Mr. Suh’s voice brought you back to reality. His build, tall form leaning against the fridge as he stared at you with a small smirk on his face, his hair was falling a bit more freely since the gel had given up after the whole night —day, you’d dare to say, you’re not so sure he had time to go back home and get ready for this dinner again.

You tried not to get lost in his beauty and swiftly hummed, nodding. “Yeah, but at least the wine is good.”

Mr. Suh snickered, starting to walk over to you, a hand in his hair as he shook it back. “Pinot?”

Your eyes moved up in his, he was standing so close you could feel his breath hit your face, and you struggled to find the words. Throat dry and hands so sweaty you were sure you would’ve dropped the glass on the ground. “Yeah, Pinot, or at least, I think so,” you mumbled, giggling awkwardly as you looked down and took a step back, trying to put some distance between you two.

“Can I have a taste?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his piercing gaze staring right into your soul.

You should’ve told him that surely there were some glasses left outside, or maybe opted to take a look in the wine rack behind him, but you didn’t, and your hand moved to his almost right away.

You watched him smile in a ‘thank you,’ before his lips met the glass, alcohol pouring down his throat, a bit too messily for his usual put-together act, a drop dripping on his chin against his tan skin.

Mr. Suh smiled, humming happily as he handed the —almost empty— glass back to you. “As imagined, my favourite,” he winked.

“Oh, good — good. I — I like it too,” you slurred, panicking and feeling so small. And guilty because something about all of this felt so wrong and dirty and you immediately thought of Mrs. Taylor. Was Johnny flirting or were you too horny to think straight? They were a perfect couple, they couldn’t be cheating, right?

So, you scrolled your head, and said goodbye to him, quickly walking out of the room with the excuse ‘you were sure your father was looking for you’ but in reality, you just needed a breath of fresh air.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. You would find yourself alone with Mr. Suh more than you wished to, and he was always so subtle with everything that you started to think you were going insane. He couldn’t have possibly brushed his hand against yours as he walked by your side to go to his wife, right? And he couldn’t have willingly rested a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you, trying to make way to get to your father? And why would he call you ‘honey’ with that sweet, intoxicating, slightly condescending tone, and only when you two were alone? His voice was always sensual, but you could swear it would drop even lower when he had you alone in the kitchen or in the library you spent some much time in, lecturing you about some poem or book, watching as you hung from his lips.

Anyway, you thought you could deal with it, you would only see him when your dad invited them, and even if it was a lot, you could stick with your mother —a slightly more likeable presence to you that wasn’t best friend with the Suhs.

Things worsened when Mrs. Suh started talking to you. The first, serious, conversation was about a pretty boring thing, some case she was working on. But there was something in the way she talked to you, laughing as she dismissed the conversation and simply stared into your eyes before asking to talk about yourself. Unlike her husband, she was curious, almost as if she wanted to get deep into you and discover things you probably didn’t even know about yourself.

And you froze. You had nothing to say. Everything that came to your mind was either too boring or too wild to be known to her.

“So? Too many secrets to hide?” She joked, showing you her pearly white teeth before winking.

“No, uhm,” you mumbled, trying to find the words, but losing them again when your eyes fell on her hands, golden jewellery shining on her fingers as they wrapped around the flute so delicately and yet sensually before she brought the glass to her full lips tinted with dark purple. Your head snapped up, trying to control your breath and not show the erratic movements of your chest, and squeezing your thighs together for some reason. “I’m working. Yes, busy working and trying to survive my dad.” Busy. You wrote for a small magazine online that paid you dust; reason why you were back living with your parents and kept writing your book, hoping to finish it and publish it one day and get the chance to be as far as possible from that house.

She smirked, and you could see it wasn’t because she was happy with your answer but almost as if she was having the time of her life at the way you were acting. “So, work and dad make you, you?”

“No,” you replied right away, slightly offended too. “I thought we were talking about… about things… happening now.”

A low chuckle rolled out of her lips, “I’d love to get to know you better, you know? Your family is so outgoing, they can’t keep anything in, but you…” she paused, eyes looking at you up and down, “you’re so secretive, reserved, like a candy to unwrap.”

You gulped, fearing she had the wrong idea about you and her husband and was planning a way to kill you. Aaliyah wasn’t stupid, of course she had seen the way Johnny talked to you and, worse, the way you reacted. She was also a lawyer, a brilliant one, you doubt some of her clients were even innocent and yet they got away with everything, she could stand up for herself in court, and Johnny would find a poetic way to get rid of your body and turn this into the plot of his next success.

“I… I…”

“You should spend some time with us,” she said, smiling, crossing her legs and moving her braids behind, showing her cleavage, “you know, at our place, alone. No family getting in the way, no father painting you bad. Just adults having fun.”

“Oh,” you gasped, gulping as you felt the air in your lungs disappear. “Sure, I’d love to.” But the truth is, you wouldn’t survive being alone with them.

“Beautiful dress, by the way,” she complimented, getting up and walking past you, “shows all the right curves.”

That was the start of everything. Unfortunately, she had no intention of killing you. Instead, she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you better, saving you from your father by engaging in conversations with you when you were all at the same table, asking what you liked, and mostly, complimenting you. At first, it could’ve been mistaken for a ‘girls support girls’ kind of moment, but quickly you started to perceive something else. Her looks, her touches and her words weren’t any different than Mr. Suh’s ones, so lingering, so secretive, and teasing, feeling like a breeze that taunts your skin with a sense of relief that’s never meant to come.

Two months have passed since that moment, and your plans of keeping the distance crumble apart when you find yourself alone with them.

It’s not the first time, but you feel today might be more difficult to deal with. Your father is stuck with an idea of you from when you were five years old and in constant need of supervision, or else you can’t explain why he almost treats them as your babysitters.

‘We’ll be out today, look after her,’ these are the words your father exclaims before walking out of the Villa he owned on this lake abandoned by God, your mother already at the car parked in the driveway.

You’re not a child but you surely act like one, rolling your eyes and letting out a loud grunt before puffing out air.

Mr. Suh laughs, humming lowly before turning to you. “You’re still a child in his eyes, aren’t you? His sweet, innocent, little baby.”

That comment shouldn’t have had any effect on you, yet, it does. It feels like he is implying something else, it’s clear in his tone and especially his eyes. But you shake it off, laughing before replying ‘yes,’ and then running up the stairs with a faint goodbye. You hear Mrs. Taylor say something, probably asking you to stay, but you pretend you don’t hear and disappear into your room.

You can avoid them only for so long before you don’t know what to do anymore and decide to go downstairs —terrible decision.

You think they left, so you walk outside to read a book under the porch and enjoy a cold lemonade, but when you step into the garden you see them by the pool.

Aaliyah is laughing tenderly at Johnny who’s dancing on the trampoline, winking at her before jumping in the pool, splashing water around, making her turn around and cover her face more with the large floppy hat she’s wearing.

You feel like dying, this is not how you want to see them, and you have to force your eyes up, not making them fall on her ass. You’re still in time to go back, just one step behind and you can go upstairs as if nothing happened, but you’re not quick enough.

“Hey,” Mr. Suh greets you. “We were hoping you would join us,” he smiles at you, walking out of the pool by the stairs, scrolling the water out of his hair before pushing it behind.

You gulp, which is the only thing you can do to try to water your throat —and more embarrassingly, don’t moan at the sight of his sculpted body. And then you smile, a tight forced smile as you still stand like a statue. “Oh, I won’t join you, I just wanted to read.”

Mrs. Suh snickers and you watch her turn around to stand out of the pool, strong arms lifting her body up —and only now you realize that she’s pretty ripped too, the soft curves complimented by the signed abs, toned arms, and thighs.

“You go to the gym together?” Dumbly slips out of your mouth and by the time you cover it with your hands it’s already too late, but the comment makes them smile.

“You pay attention to details, don’t you?” She asks, clicking her tongue and smirking. She then takes the hat off, letting the braids fall on her back before she sits on the round table, pulling a chair out to gesture you to take a seat. “And I don’t train as much as he does, prefer pilates actually.”

“Oh,” you reply, momentarily bringing your attention to Johnny who’s now sitting on the other chair, leaving you the seat in the middle. “Heard is good for the body, nice choice.”

“Are you going to sit, or do we have to drag you here?” Mr. Suh jokes, head pointing at the empty space between them.

You shake your head, looking down as you take a deep breath and force your legs to work. You can do that, you just have to sit in the middle of the hottest couple you’ve ever laid eyes on and that for some reason loves to tease you, you’ll be fine.

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she says when your ass touches the chair, book and lemonade resting in front of you on the round table.

“So, enjoying your break?” Johnny asks and then throws his hair back to scroll some more water out, but that makes you lose your focus and gulp nervously.

“Yeah, needed a vacation. Would be better if it wasn’t with my father,” you add, looking down.

She chuckles. “You two really don’t get along. Poor thing, he doesn’t get you, does he?”

You hesitate to reply, 1) you don’t get if she’s mocking you and 2) you wouldn’t care because the way she called you poor thing makes you feel things.

“He thinks I’m a child. I mean, he treats you like babysitters, I’m an adult,” you reply when your brain starts working again, and sadness fills your expression.

“Sure you are,” Johnny adds, chuckling, and you frown. “Sorry, it’s just funny that when you get mad at him, you act a bit childlike. Teenagers-like, if it makes you feel better.”

You sigh, frowning as you stare at him. “You think I’m stupid?”

“What?” He asks, brows raising.

“You think I’m as stupid as he thinks I am? Because the way he talks about me would make anybody think I’m this clueless, hopeless, dumb woman who has no idea what she’s doing with her life.”

Aaliyah chuckles tenderly, “Honey, you’re smart. Johnny can’t quite shut up about you after you two talk. He loves your takes on authors and the way you write, says he would love to have you work with him somehow.”

You almost stop breathing. He talks about you to his wife? He remembers what you say during your conversation or when you talk about what you write? Damn, you doubt people even listen to you.

“Oh, thanks,” yet, this is the only thing you mumble, and it’s fine like this. Anything else coming from your mouth could dangerously be a squeal.

“Anyway,” she says, leaning closer, making you move back and hold your breath, only to damn yourself when her fingers brush on your skin to wipe away something that dropped on you with the wind, “your dad’s not here now, why don’t you join us by the pool and stop stressing about him?”

You smile but shake your head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure? The water is perfect,” Johnny adds, standing up and towering over you. “Couldn’t convince my sweet wife to jump in but maybe you’re braver than her,” he winks, and you don’t have the courage to turn around and see if she saw.

“Oh…” you whisper and then look at the pool. If only he knew the problem wasn’t the water, you wouldn’t think twice about jumping in.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Suh pleads, and before you can realize it, her hands are wrapped around your wrist. This is the first time she touches you, not a caress, not a tease, but a firm hold on you, and it shouldn’t send shivers down your spine, but it does. Her fingers are slim and soft, and you find yourself wishing you could feel them more, preferably somewhere else on your body.

“Wait,” you try to retort, but you have no choice. She’s dragging you to the edge of the pool and Johnny is walking right behind you, you’d be trapped either way.

“Here,” she says, coming to a stop when you reach the border of the pool. “Much better than sipping lemonade while reading a book all alone, right?”

“I don’t have a bikini,” you say, only now realizing you didn’t go downstairs for that.

“Are you wearing lace?” Johnny asks, walking so close that you can feel the heat of his body.

“Wh-why do you care?”

“Dummy,” he chuckles, “if you’re not, you can jump in anyway, it won’t ruin the lingerie.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, of course,” you mumble, looking away to don’t show how embarrassed you are. But their laughs —even if lighthearted— don’t help you at all, and you still feel trapped between them. “No, by the way, I have no reason to wear lace,” you add, trying to fill the silence.

“Really?” Aaliyah asks, tilting her head to the side. You turn around, facing the pool so you can look at them both —and fool yourself you have a way out now that your back is free.

“Well, yes… I’m… I’m not really people’s type,” you mutter, torturing the inside of your cheeks and your fingers.

Johnny snickers, “Weird, you look exactly like —” he doesn’t finish though, and you barely see the glance his wife gives him to stop him. “I’m sure you are someone’s type.”

You nod, but your brain is slowly melting, from the weather, from their closeness, and now because you can’t understand why she stopped him and what he truly wanted to say.

“Undress,” she says resolutely, and you’re brought back to earth, staring at her with wide eyes. “To swim… remember?” she finishes, head tilted to the side and a mocking smirk on her face. You know she’s having the time of her life watching you panic, you’re giving it all way, from the way your breath falters to the way your chest heavies.

“Sure, to swim,” you repeat but it’s more to ground yourself. You hope the water is freezing cold, so maybe your body can cool down, and so can your thoughts. You quickly lift your dress over your shoulders and by the time you can see again, you see them in the water, standing right in front of you, leaning against the other side of the pool.

“Are you coming?” Johnny asks, voice raspy but clear.

You hum, kneeling down, feeling the water with your hand. It’s not cold enough to calm you down and to make you take time, you have to jump in. So, you do. It’s not too deep and you can walk to them.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Aaliyah voices out, deeply breathing in the air and moving her fingers in abstract figures on the surface.

“Yeah. I…” you look down, watching your bra and how little it covers, the damp fabric highlighting your hard nipples even more.

“Shy?” It rolls from her tongue like venom, so sweet yet poisonous as her eyes lock in yours.

“No, no,” you laugh awkwardly. “Why would I?”

“We wouldn’t blame you, we can come off as quite intimidating at times,” Johnny says, the corner of his lips twitching in a smirk before it relaxes.

“You don’t intimidate me,” you lie, chuckling and crossing your arms on your chest.

She laughs. “My nipples are hard too, babe. It’s the cold,” she reassures you with a smile, but you don’t feel better. You’re not so sure it’s only the cold, you think they became this hard a few minutes ago when you were practically sandwiched between them.

“Why did you come here?” You ask out of nowhere, and their expressions change. “I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t want you here,” you explain, “but you could do vacations on your own and don’t have to suffer through my father, so I don’t understand.”

“Thought we said not to talk about him?” She says, raising a brow.

“Well, I want to talk about you. You two have it all, you’re rich, powerful, smart, in love, and yet, you…” you float around me, always, constantly, “...you spend so little time together.”

Mr. Suh laughs, his head rolling back for a second. “We’re always together. I come home to her, not your father,” he jokes and she laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Also, this might not be the only vacation we will do this year. We always go to Santorini in September before Uni starts,” she adds.

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek.

“But let’s talk about you,” she says. “Why are you here? Your brothers didn’t come.”

“My brothers can do whatever they want, I can’t.”

“Why?” This time Johnny is the one asking.

“I’d let him down,” you add, lowering your gaze because you don’t like the look of pity behind their eyes. “But I don’t want to think about him. You’re good at diving,” you change the subject, addressing Johnny, hoping it will be enough to move the focus from you.

“Thanks,” he replies, a proud smirk on his face.

“Don’t stroke his ego, he’s going to jump again and splash around,” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

“You’re already wet, so why would it be a problem?” He smirks, and then turns to you and winks, making you choke on your own saliva, but you try to cover it up with a fit of cough, something that makes the couple giggle under their breath more.

Aaliyah swims to you, pushing you back so Johnny can have space and maybe don’t drown you with his jump. Your skin is on fire as her hands place on your back as she guides you and you’re thankful your feet can touch because you can barely walk, so imagine swimming.

“He was in the swimming team in high school,” Aaliyah explains, covering her eyes from the sun with a hand and squeezing them so she can watch Johnny. You mimic her, humming at her words. “He was so good, I think I fell in love on the bleachers watching him swim.”

You chuckle tenderly and try to imagine a younger version of them, and you can almost see them. You wonder if their personalities were the same more than ten years ago, you wonder how they looked, you wonder if they would’ve ever imagined to still be here after so many years. But in any version you come up with, you still don’t fit. Actually, it makes you look like a stain even more.

“Your love is… strong,” you whisper when Johnny finally dives in and she cheers before bringing her attention to you.

“It is,” she agrees, a sweet smile showing her straight, white teeth, “even though weird things happen sometimes.”

You giggle, frowning. “Weird things?” Your voice is shaking, and you don’t want to connect the two dots that are so vivid in your head.

“What are you talking about? Praising me?” Mr. Suh asks, grinning, running a hand in his wet hair before hugging his wife from the back and kissing her cheek.

“Not about you, nothing impressive about that jump,” she jokes. “About us.”

“Us?”

She hums. “I was telling her how I fell in love with you, and she said our love is strong.”

You want to ask about the weird things, you want to ask so much more, but you don’t. And you simply stand there, watching Mr. Suh’s hands wrap around her body, feeling jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

The whole thing gets more intense as time passes by. You’re curious about them, as individuals and as a couple, and you can’t deny the tension anymore. Not tonight.

The three of you haven’t really spoken, mostly because you slipped away as soon as you crossed ways, and after a few tries, they stopped trying to approach you. But the buzzing chemistry is strong across the room.

You try not to look at them, you even try to engage in conversation with your father —when he’s not attached to Mr. Suh’s ass— and some of his other friends, but it’s useless. Your head always turns in their direction, it’s almost like a voice is luring you in.

You guess you look dumb from the outside, and you’re sure that if you looked at yourself in the mirror you would tell yourself to work on the way you stare at —almost strangers— with eyes filled with lust. You don’t want to, you don’t want to look at them, even less with that wide-eyed gaze and agape mouth, but you can’t help it.

“Honey,” your mother’s voice scoffs, “what are you doing?”

You perceive her scolding —disgusted— gaze on you and you cough, looking at her to be met with her judging eyes. Typical of your mother, usually you only get her looks with no need for words to be added.

“Sorry, I was zoned out,” you justify, chuckling awkwardly, but it only makes her frown more and sigh. “I’m a bit tired,” you lie, trying to fool her.

“Just don’t look weird,” she dismisses you with a wave of hand. “Not more than the usual,” she adds, leaving you alone.

You roll your eyes, scoffing loudly once you’re sure she’s out of sight and then start walking to the table with the drinks. You’re not sure adding alcohol to the picture will make it better but who knows, maybe ending up passed out next to a toilet is better than lusting over a married couple that is probably just messing with you.

It doesn’t work.

You blame it on the hard drinks your friends make you drink when you go out, your alcohol tolerance must be out of the roof by now, but it doesn’t matter because your biggest problem still stands.

Your problem is standing on the other side of the room now that you’re sitting on some couches with the fourth drink in hand. You shouldn’t feel like this, stomach upside down and a frown hardening your beautiful features while you look at them. But you can’t help it. Mr. Suh’s hand sitting at the side of Aaliyah’s waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the maroon dress she’s wearing. You can’t hear her laugh as her head rolls back before falling on his shoulder at something the person they are talking to is saying, but your brain replays the sound anyway, and you smile.

The beam on your face drops quickly when her eyes lock into yours, Johnny is not looking, busy paying attention to the person in front of them, but her gaze is on you. It’s piercing even with the distance between you and it takes your breath away. You should make this look normal, raise a hand and wave with a small smile before turning away, but you don’t. You’re stuck, like you always are around them, and the only thing that moves is your heart, pounding fast and violently in your chest as you watch her every move, one hand bringing a glass to her lips and the other meeting Johnny’s on her waist. You’d love to roll your eyes and huff ‘he’s yours, we get it,’ but you only feel a stinging pain in your heart, and a less painful one, well… somewhere else.

The spell breaks when she turns around, eyes on her husband and laughing again as if nothing happened, almost as if you’re not even in the room anymore.

Your shoulders drop, your breath gets normal again, and your head lowers. It’s not normal to feel like this, especially when it all feels like a mockery at times. You know there’s no space for you. You can’t be her and run your fingers in his hair without getting scowled at for ruining it. You can’t be her and kiss him on the lips and chuckle when he rubs your nose against yours. You can’t be her and see him in the comfort of when he wakes up or goes to bed.

But you play and play, and fool yourself you can, getting lost in those fantasies. You need a breath of fresh air.

Just like the alcohol, the minutes spent outside to cool your body and mind don’t work. When you go back to sit at your spot, you realize they’re sitting opposite to you. You’d leave again but you have no excuse, and it would become even more awkward now that your father sits next to you. But it’s fine, they’re talking again with someone else and you can focus on what your father is saying. Or maybe not, his conversation with another one of his intellectual friends is boring, nothing interesting comes from his mouth, just old, recurrent, wrong takes. You’d get in the conversation, just to feel something else that night and end up in a discussion with your dad because you need to prove him wrong, but your brain is somewhere else.

Once again, in front of you. Mrs. Suh is sitting on Johnny’s lap, somehow her back manages to stay straight even if she’s not resting against anything, her long legs are elegantly crossed by the ankle and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulder. You recognize the person in front of them, Mr. Kim Doyoung, a math professor, and you question how they know each other but it gets swiped from your mind quickly.

You hate how close they are. Their touches so subtle and yet so loud making it feel like they’re rubbing it in your face. You hate how people look at them, with so much awe and affection, you feel like only you can look at them like that. And you feel stupid, it is stupid.

But then it happens again, this time it’s Mr. Suh the one looking at you. All the anger and jealousy fly away. Thousands of eyes on them, and he’s still looking at you. His wife is in his arms, and he’s still looking at you. Your father is at your side, and he’s still looking at you.

You gulp, shifting on the spot to try to get comfortable and stop the painful throbbing between your legs, but it’s impossible.

Mr. Suh’s lips flicker in a small smirk, and then his brow rises, there’s also a small raise of the cup he’s holding, and you immediately turn around, just to make sure your father is not looking. You can’t believe he’s so bold, flirting —or whatever he is doing— not only in a full room but with your dad by your side.

You should hate it, you should leave, maybe even confront him, but you don’t. You’re actually quite ashamed the whole thing turns you on. It’s hot, and taboo, and taboo but hot. And come on, you’ve been subtly flirting with a married couple, this shouldn’t be the worst thing, but it feels like it. Because your father worships them, everybody in that room praises them, wants to be like them, and thinks they only have eyes for each other, but they don’t, even if it’s only a naughty game, their eyes are on you.

It’s you.

Their eyes skim around the room playing hide and seek with yours. Their hands tickle your skin in secret. Their bodies speak to you.

The whole room fades in the background, all the tension, all the problems, gone.

It’s only you and them.

Eventually, you start spending more and more time at their place. You tell yourself it’s because they’re easygoing and you can easily escape from your house —to be more precise, from your father. But the truth is, you’re starting to enjoy them more and more.

You still feel out of place sometimes, but it quickly fades away when they notice their conversation push you out by quickly pulling you back in, making light jokes you can understand, or asking about your day. You realize Mrs. Taylor tends to pick up on you quicker than Mr. Suh, while he prefers to ease you with tender touches, and you wonder if he knows the effect they have on you.

You still don’t open up to them much, fearing that if they discovered more, they’d quickly stop giving you attention.

Attention.

That’s another thing you enjoy about being with them. You feel seen. Even if their chemistry is over the roof, they never leave you out, you’re not a tapestry with them. They listen to you, even if you don’t say much, even if you stumble on your words and only give them a small peek. They look at you with sweet smiles on their faces and hum interested, holding conversation with ease.

And shamefully, the thing you love the most, they pamper you. It’s not like you’re poor —even if you have decided to don’t ask for money from your father, some privileges from your wealthy family come anyway— but they still spoil you. Expensive dinners in places you honestly never even wanted to set foot inside. Expensive clothes you doubt you even have the occasion to wear. They even gifted you a Cartier necklace that you keep stored away as your most treasured possession.

But their attentions aren’t only economical, they spoil you with homemade dinners at their place, movie night on their couch, and something more…

You lost count by now of how many times they get you alone and flirt with you, teasing you, watching you get flustered, chuckling at the way your breath falters when their fingers brush your skin or hair. It’s like a dirty game, you are their dirty game. But you don’t hate it. You know they both know what they’re doing, but you love this secrecy, the way you’re their trophy in plain sight and yet a dirty secret they have to hide from each other. It makes you feel wanted, desperately wanted.

And soon enough, you find yourself playing that game, too.

You wear your best outfits when you pass by the University, skin-tight skirts or pants, and just as skimpy blouses or tops with the excuse to borrow books from the library and say hi. Your lips are tinted red for Mr. Suh when he asks you if you want to pass in his office to help him with some lectures, and brown for Mrs. Suh when you casually pass by her firm for lunch or after work. Your hair is always in different hairstyles until you start to stick with the ones you see they like the most. And slowly, you gain some confidence to flirt back.

Your remarks are subtle, and your gaze shies away when they hold eye contact and only giggle or smirk teasingly. But it’s something.

Or so you think.

One second, you’re confident, and the other you feel like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You start wondering if you’re pathetic in their eyes and are nothing more but a plaything for them to toy with and discharge when they’ll get tired of you. But nobody ever complimented you this much, calling you beautiful, caressing your face, loving the outfits you put together, and, most importantly, didn’t make you feel dumb. So it feels impossible to pull away from them. Even when your father starts getting mad at you about it.

He’s not dumb, and he has seen the way you and Mr. Suh sit in a corner and talk, he has seen that he greets you before anybody else —even before him— and he doesn’t like it.

“Johnny and Aaliyah have a beautiful relationship,” he starts, scolding you, “don’t try to screw it up, you’re not half of her worth.”

And that’s the first time you cry at night about it. You don’t want to listen to him, but you can’t help but question why they would choose you. Even if it’s just a game, even if it means nothing, you can’t find a reason why. You don’t know who started this first, but it’s not like it would be any different, they’re both hot, smart, talented and successful, and your father is right, you’re not half of her, or his, worth.

Yet, you can’t let it go.

If you know their townhouse by heart, you can’t say the same for their holiday house. It’s your first time being there after they invited you to their getaway weekend. You didn’t hesitate to say yes, pack your best things and leave.

You didn’t want to wander around but they left you all alone and didn’t show much of the house, so you took this opportunity to see a bit more.

The place is big; in the spacious hall, you’re met with the stairs once you enter, the big living room and on the right there’s the kitchen with a grand island in the middle and the table in front of the wide window. Farther down the corridor there’s a small bathroom and a room you couldn’t open. You’d like to go outside in the garden and chill next to the pool or under the porch, but it’s like upstairs is calling you.

On the first floor, there are the bedrooms and a studio. Your room —well, the guest room— is at the end of the corridor with a big bathroom next to it, while their room is at the end of the stairs, or so you guess.

You don’t want to pry, but curiosity’s got the best of you, especially after trying to open that room downstairs that won’t open. But you know you don’t want to find the keys to that room when you enter their bedroom —yes, you do, but that’s not the main thing.

Your lips part when you enter. It’s bigger than yours, with white walls and wide windows that let the light shine in making it seem even bigger. The big bed is against the wall that faces the door, and right next to the windows, there’s a small sitting room with a two-seat couch and two armchairs.

You should stop and don’t step further but you don’t listen to your brain.

On the wall in front of the bed, there’s a fireplace and on top of it there’s a television that takes half of the wall. At the sides, there are recessed shelves in the wall with books and elegant boxes, a lamp in front of it, and a lounge chair.

There are other lamps, all seem to be design pieces. Two long bedside tables that seem to be vanity desks of marble black. Some beautiful paintings are on the walls and you frown when you can’t recognize the artist, but they picture women and nature and you find them mesmerizing.

Then your eyes are caught by a rectangular red box placed against the wall at the side of the bed, it’s bigger than the bench at the end of the bed, and something about it screams at you to open it.

You shouldn’t, you feel like you’re invading their privacy —and well, you are— but you don’t stop.

You kneel in front of it, and a part of you hopes it’s locked somehow so that you can walk out of there and pretend nothing happened. But there’s no lock or key, you just have to lift the lid to see what’s inside.

Your lips part and a gasp comes out of your mouth when your eyes see what’s inside. You freeze. Close it and leave. Your brain screams, but you’re stuck, eyes blinking as you try to make sure you’re not making it all up.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hand falling from the lid to shakily touch what’s inside. There are other boxes but, for now, you don’t care to open them and only grab what you can see. Handcuffs, blindfolds, what seem to be whips but they all have different shapes and you don’t get the differences, ropes and other items you can’t name. The closed boxes have labels on them, lingerie, anal, vibrators, and dildos.

Your hands grab one, opening it, inspecting what’s inside with surprise and curiosity, and then another, and another. To be honest, you don’t know why you are so shocked, you own some toys —a vibrator and a small dildo— but you’ve seen much more than that, and it shouldn’t be surprising that a couple like the Suhs have freaky, kinky sex. Yet, it’s overwhelming you.

You are so caught up looking into the box that you don’t hear the door open and Aaliyah stand behind you with just a rope wrapped around her body.

“Looking for something?”

One of the boxes falls from your hand when Mr. Suh’s voice resonates in the room and you jump around in fear.

You mumble no sense, starting to panic while your eyes dart around the room for an escape. There would be many, the room is all windows and you could easily jump off the balcony to put an end to how embarrassed you feel right now, but you can’t.

Their gazes are piercing you and pinning you down against the floor and a feeble “I’m sorry,” is all you can say before your throat goes completely dry.

They snicker, starting to walk over you and you take a step back, but almost fall into the box. You don’t, not because your brain started to work again, but because Mrs. Suh has her arms wrapped around you to keep you from being bent in half into that.

“Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” she says, a veil of genuine concern and something else, a lot of something else, that you can’t decipher.

“I told you she was curious,” Johnny says, talking to her once she lets you go after she makes sure you can stand on your feet.

“I — I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking down and torturing your hands, but the toys abandoned on the floor only make you look outside. “I thought you were out.”

“I was,” Johnny says, “went buy something sweet for you. But it looks like you’ll get something sweeter tonight.”

Your brain panics, trying to assimilate everything they said to you. “You — you were home the entire time?”

She smirks. “Didn’t hear the water running?”

You sigh defeated, pressing your lips together and shaking your head.

Johnny chuckles before kneeling and talking to you again, “You’re lucky we didn’t want to use these on you tonight, I’m not really in the mood to clean them all up,” he says as he puts the dildos back in the box and set it aside, outside of the container so he remembers to clean them.

“On — on me?” You mumble still struggling to breathe.

Aaliyah hums. “All this teasing has to go somewhere, right?”

“I — I…” You — You… you wished this so much that now that is happening you don’t know how to feel anymore.

“You don’t want us?” Johnny asks with genuine care and your eyes widen, terrified they will get the wrong idea.

“No, I do, I do, but I don’t want to — I… I promise I’m not weird, I don’t even know why I came here, or why I opened that, it’s just so eye-catching, it’s red and nothing in this room is red, and…”

Your rant gets interrupted by two lips on yours. You don’t know who it is at first, eyes closed and brain and heart going off like sirens, running around with their non-existent hands in the air. But then an arm wraps around you and pulls you close, and you realize it’s her. It’s her soft yet firm touch, it’s her body against yours.

And then you’re trapped again, Johnny is behind you, and you feel small and powerless.

“We’re not mad at you, honey,” he says, fingers running against your neck as he moves your hair back, “we’re kinda glad you snooped around, we weren’t really sure how to initiate this.”

“Oh,” you gasp. “But I’m not weird, I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

“We know,” she stops you again, chuckling, “maybe you wanted to get caught. Johnny called your name when he was downstairs, you didn’t hear him?”

Your lips spread partially as you try to remember but you’re sure you didn’t hear his voice or the shower. “No, I… I think I was too caught in… into… well…”

They snicker.

“Naughty girl,” she mocks, gently cupping your chin. “Found something interesting?”

“Uhm, no…”

“No?” Johnny asks and you feel something against your bare thighs —wearing shorts was a bad idea. It has fringes and it tickles. “Not even this?”

You look down and see the black flogger in his hands and you gulp. “I never tried any of these before… I’m not even sure how some of these things can bring pleasure.”

Aaliyah chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, babydoll, you’d be surprised.”

“You want to tie me?” You ask innocently and they laugh.

“Nah, seems a bit cruel for our first time, don’t you think?” Johnny says, hands wrapping around your stomach.

First time? There will be another one? You think but you don’t ask. You probably already look depraved enough to their eyes, you don’t want to make it worse.

“So, want to have fun with us?”

“Yeah…”

“Hesitating?” She questions, caressing your cheek to soothe you but her touch only makes your body buzz in excitation.

“No, I still don’t get why you would want me,” you whisper, diverting your gaze.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror?” He says, big hands caressing your waist and lips brushing against your neck.

You shake your head. “I still think I don’t fit between you…”

She grabs your chin, lifting your head. “Then why don’t you stop thinking tonight, mhh? We’ll give you a reason to believe why you do fit, instead?” Her hands grab yours and she places them on the tie of her robe, if your fingers move and you let it fall to the ground the whole night will bloom. The consequences could be tragic, tomorrow could be the worst day of your life, but tonight might be the best one.

You don’t hesitate anymore; you’re curious, you’re needy, and you badly want to be pressed between them and feel their skin against yours, so your fingers dance on the tie and pull the robe open.

Your lips part to let out a gasp when her naked body unreveals to your eyes, and you get lost in it. Your eyes move up and down, taking in her perky, round boobs, her darker nipples hardening at the cool air of the room, and then they go down, to her toned stomach you have already seen before until they reach her soft hips, you bite your lips when your eyes fall between her legs, perfectly trimmed black hair covering her most intimate part, and lastly on her soft thighs and long legs.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out, feeling you could collapse just from the view, and you start wondering if you can take Johnny too.

Her lips lift in a smile and her hands wander on your body where her husband’s hands are leaving your body untouched. You press your lips together to don’t moan already, it would be so humiliating to do so, but it’s almost as if they know.

“Don’t hold back,” Johnny whispers against your ear, shivers running down your spine. “We take pride in what we do, and want to hear you.”

You hum, nodding fast before you feel dizzy when he pushes your shorts down, his body lowering to accompany them on the floor, his hot breath hitting your exposed skin before his lips leave kisses on your thighs and ass.

Aaliyah is busy taking care of your top, lifting your arms to reveal your bare chest. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but she stops you with a stern look and a “Don’t.” Her voice is sultry, sweet like honey and intoxicating, and you can only obey. “It’s not fair when I’m so bare at your eyes, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe out, and then turn your head to stare at Johnny, the only one who’s completely covered. You don’t say anything, but your eyes speak louder than any word. You’re basically imploring him to show himself to you, your eagerness is burning out of you, yet he mocks you with a smirk and then a scoff.

“Later, honey,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be greedy. Too much on your plate, then you can’t chew.”

His wife snickers, pushing him back from you. “Follow me,” she says, giving you a reassuring smile before turning around and walking toward the bed.

You hesitate, looking back at Johnny, asking his permission, and when he nods, you still feel stuck there. You need a light push from him to start moving your feet and follow her on the Wyoming king bed.

“I didn’t think you would be so shy, doll,” she points out, watching you hesitantly climb on the bed and crawl to her.

“She’s not,” Johnny replies for you, “she’s just playing with us.”

You stop in your tracks, looking back at him, mumbling to come up with a reply. But you stop thinking when her chest presses against your back and she turns your head to kiss you. Her hand reaches out to call Johnny to join you, but you don’t think about him until you feel the bed bend with his weight and then his hands on your thighs.

“Or maybe she just needs to ease into us,” she suggests. You catch she’s telling him something, it’s a quick conversation with eyes and mouthed words; you don’t get it, but you don’t care to get it.

You trust them. And you like the thrill of being at their mercy with no idea of what they truly want to do with you.

So, you let them. You let them move you, shifting around you as their hands gently push you flat against the bed and their lips start tracing your shivering skin. You hate that Johnny is still dressed but that thought quickly leaves your mind —or better, doesn’t annoy you that much anymore— when his fingers hook on the band of your panties and pull them off.

You squirm, hiding your face against Aaliyah’s arms but they’re quick at reassuring you.

“Stop hiding away,” Johnny says, “you’re beautiful, honey.”

But your confidence it’s not the problem. You’ve never been the centre of attention, you never had two pairs of eyes, lips, and hands on you. You don’t know how to cope with all of this.

You gasp when her lips wrap around your hard nipple and she starts sucking. And you can’t control your hips when his hands brush against the apex of your thighs before lingering over your sensitive pussy.

“Can I taste you?” Johnny asks, softly caressing your skin.

“Yes, you can.” You’re already short on air as you watch him lower his head, his eyes intensely staring straight into yours, making you feel so small and yet so safe.

Your legs go weak as soon as his plump lips touch your sensitive clit, he’s only leaving delicate kisses on you and small kitten licks but that’s not the only stimulation you’re receiving, Aaliyah’s mouth and fingers lick and pinch on your sensitive nipples are not helping you calm down.

“Oh my god,” you curse, rolling your head back when he starts eating you out for real. Tongue working with precision from your leaking slit to your throbbing clit, not leaving a patch untouched. His hold on you is firm, big hands keeping you spread, massaging your skin to help you relax even more, but with no room for movement.

“Look at you,” she teases, pulling away from your boob to pay attention to your face, “so wrecked and we barely even started. You love the way my husband is eating you out?”

Your eyes open to meet hers, and you regret it right away, the intensity of her gaze making you feel something you’ve never felt before. Sure, she carried around an intimidating vibe, but that kind of aura disappeared as the months passed and you grew closer, but this, this is different. She is dominant and firm, yet somehow you can always find that veil of care that characterized her.

You try to answer, afraid not receiving a verbal response will disappoint her, but your throat lets out an embarrassing whimper followed by a broken moan.

She snickers, shaking her head, and caressing your cheeks so gently it feels like she’s mocking you. “I know, doll, I know, he’s good with his mouth.”

You cry out in embarrassment but your head rolls back when Johnny sucks harshly on your clit and his hands move down to keep your pussy spread.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles pressed against your skin, the vibrations driving you insane. “So wet for us, you wanted this so bad, didn’t you? Our desperate toy, we made you wait for so long.”

You’d love to scream that yes, this took too long, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You somehow find the strength to look up, much with the help of Aaliyah who places an arm under your head for support, and you feel your stomach tighten up at the view.

Johnny looks like a starving man, messily lapping at your aching pussy, devouring you with his face buried between your legs, nose pressed against your mound. He’s so caught up he probably doesn’t even realize he tugs you closer when his arms wrap around your thighs.

Your eyes shut down and for a moment the image of the usual him crosses your mind. There’s nothing of the composed, elegant, and polite man you know, that man that your father loves so much, the same man that if he saw him right now, would have a heart attack. But you quickly push him out of your mind. You have no other choice when Aaliyah’s fingers add to the mess between your legs, and you bite your lips so hard you almost bleed.

“Too much,” you cry out, looking for mercy in her eyes when she draws them from her husband and your cunt to your face.

“Too much?” She coos with a condescending tone. “You’re bucking your hips against his face and want me to believe it’s too much?”

You groan loudly, giving up as your head falls against the mattress again. Her arm is not there anymore as she’s using it to support her body to tease you, and your neck has no more strength to watch him have the time of his life between your thighs.

But you’re not the only one groaning; Johnny’s moaning too, getting drunk in your juices and falling into madness as he tries to ease the painful boner in his tight jeans, grinding against the mattress for comfort.

“You’re so hot you’re making him hump the mattress, babydoll,” she points out. “That’s the effect you have on him. Still doubt you’re not enough?”

You don’t, not right now, you don’t want to think about it. Still, you shake your head, earning a soft, pleased smile and a “Good girl.”

It makes your stomach tighten, your toes curl, and your hands clench around the sheets. “Johnny,” you whisper, keeping your mouth parted as you try to let more air in, it’s a beg for release but you can’t find the words to let it all out.

The way you moan his name, so shyly, so weakly, a bit for the pleasure, a bit because you feel like it doesn’t belong to you —God if he finds it endearing the way you still call them Mr. and Mrs. Suh sometimes— makes his heart pound and his dick ache. You’re so fragile in their hands, right now, in his. He had wished to have you like this for so long; since his wife first brought you up and he started to look at you in a different light. Every time you spoke your mind during dinners, coming up with something that was too smart for your father to comprehend until he proposed the same point of view, only changing a few things. You deserved to be lifted on the table and eaten out like this. And the more you two talked, or your hands brushed timidly, the more he felt addicted. He couldn’t stop thinking of you.

And that was crazy, because the only woman he ever had was his wife, and never he would’ve imagined he could feel so attracted to someone that wasn’t her. And yet, the three of you are here, in the same bed, in the same mess.

When you call out his name again, he snaps out of his thoughts and looks up at you, the eye contact makes your head spin and you hold onto Aaliyah’s wrists. You feel like the orgasm will make you fly away, but before that, Johnny will kill you with just one look.

“Please,” you cry out, begging to be spared, or maybe not, maybe begging to be ended, begging for the release, begging to reach the best orgasm of your life.

“Let go, honey, come in my mouth,” his deep, sultry voice is the final strike that sends you over the edge. Body convulsing in his hold as he keeps you down and keeps sucking and licking you, eagerly swallowing your sweet cum, and moaning vulgarly against your burning hot skin.

You feel dizzy and high, and your body slumps against the soft mattress when your first orgasm ends.

“Want to see you,” you cry out, trying to lift your body and reach for him, but your limbs quickly give up.

Aaliyah chuckles, and you turn to face her. “We need to work on your stamina.”

You pout as you justify yourself, “It was too good, and I haven’t come like this in — well, never.”

Johnny chuckles, smirking proudly before he stands up at the edge of the bed. “Want to see me, honey?”

You nod with enthusiasm, biting your lips as your heart thuds in excitement. Your eyes lock with his fingers that are moving way too slow on their way to unbutton the shirt. But after what feels like an eternity, the blouse meets the floor, leaving uncovered his toned chest, arms and beautiful tattoos adorning the skin of his shoulder. But it’s not like you haven’t seen that before.

“What?” You scream annoyed when she covers your view, standing on her knees between you and her husband, giggling at your disappointment.

“He needs a hand, baby,” she chuckles and you huff again. Of course, they would fuck with you some more.

Every sound drives you more insane; you bite the inside of your cheek when you hear the belt open, and your heels tap against the mattress when the zip comes down, lastly, you groan in disbelief when you hear his pants and belt hit the floor.

“Please,” you whine, closed fists slapping against the bed.

“Fine, greedy little thing,” Johnny chuckles, and so does she as they finally give you what you want.

Your eyes and lips widen, and you gulp. “Oh… wow…”

They laugh, it’s a soft sound that creates a beautiful harmony, and even if they’re making fun of you, it warms your heart. The next thing they do is crawl to you to kiss you.

It starts with a soft peck on your lips, their mouths on yours meeting almost shyly, and then it gets heated, teeth and tongue clashing together as all of you try to have a taste of each other.

“Don’t worry, you can take it,” she reassures, kissing your lips, hands travelling down your stomach until it reaches your throbbing clit and starts moving in circles, making you gasp against their lips.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumble, glossy eyes looking into his first and then moving to hers. “Maybe you should.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” she replies, smirking before kissing your neck.

“Tonight is about you,” Johnny reminds you, doing the same as she’s doing but on the other side. “It will fit.”

“Mhh,” you mumble, feeling weak and overwhelmed.

“Let me make sure it will fit,” she sings happily, now taking the spot between your legs.

You moan against Johnny’s mouth when her finger pushes inside you, humming in delight as she feels how wet you are. You can’t see her, eyes closed as you get lost in the kiss, but just her presence is enough to make you tremble.

“Look at you, it’s so easy to turn you into a puddle,” she teases, watching as you can barely kiss Johnny back. Something about the kiss you and her husband are sharing makes her head spin. There’s something about you, something new, something they’ve never had before. You’re so delicate, like a flower, and your petals fall perfectly between them. Just like right now, she’s sure there’s nothing in your brain, and yet your lips follow Johnny’s, messily meeting him in that slow, yet passionate kiss.

Your body reacts so nicely to their hands running on your skin, cupping and groping at your soft boobs to stimulate you everywhere as she works the second finger inside of you. They are experts at what they’re doing, sending shivers all over your body and pushing you further down into that haze.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so eager to feel Johnny inside, aren’t you?”

You mumble a reply as you finally pull away from Johnny, a thread of spit still connecting your lips, but you don’t notice until he breaks it off. “Want to feel him.”

They snicker, and then their lips are on you; Johnny’s busy leaving pecks on your neck before he pays attention to your nipples, and Aaliyah is focused on kissing your inner thigh and tummy as her fingers still curl inside of you.

“I don’t think you’re ready, yet, pretty girl,” she hums, curling the tips up and hitting your sensitive spot. That action makes your hips buck from the mattress and causes a louder moan to slip through your tortured plump lips. “So wet, dripping all over my fingers. I bet you taste so good, maybe I’ll get a taste one day, uhm?”

You squeeze your eyes, uselessly trying to calm your breath, it’s pathetic how fast your chest is moving in erratic movements, and how your hips squirm to search for more, even if one of their hands is on your stomach to keep you in place. You don’t reply but you internally scream that yes, you want her. You want to feel her soft, full lips on you, you wonder if she’s eager like Johnny or more meticolous, if she moans loudly or keeps quiet. You don’t know, but the mere idea makes a growl roll from your lips.

“She’s good with her fingers, isn’t she?” Johnny’s deep voice hits your ear, and you feel your body melt. Your head moves quickly to agree as you turn to the side to face him. He’s staring at you with a sly smirk on his face and before you can stop him, you feel his long fingers on your clit. You bite back a moan and try to plead with your eyes but it’s useless. Neither of them wants to stop.

“What, princess? We have to make sure you’re ready to take my dick,” he whispers, shushing your senseless sounds with a kiss.

You bite his lips by mistake when she pushes a third finger inside, eyes wide both in surprise and in a silent apology to Johnny.

“Too much,” you cry out.

But she tsks, shaking her head. “You have to be all stretched out for him, doll. You don’t want to break, do you?”

You shake your head before it rolls back, and your face contorts more. You don’t want to break but you feel like you might explode from this alone. She’s incredibly skilled in what she’s doing, it’s like her fingers are pumping and curling following the rhythm of a melody only she can hear, they hit you deep and fast, not giving you time to recover from each profound push.

“Just a few pumps and then he’ll fuck you exactly like you want,” she encourages you, her dark brown eyes looking softly at you, curling up in a sweet smile.

It takes you less than a few pumps to come undone, you don’t even see the orgasm coming when it washes over you, knocking air out of your lungs. It’s her two fingers pumping into you, curling and scissoring, after she pulled the third out to move faster, it’s Johnny’s thumb on your clit, flicking it swiftly, and his lips on your nipple, sucking harshly. But mostly, it’s them, the warmth of their bodies wrapping around you, intoxicating you like a drug that takes its sweet time to kick in.

Your body shakes, trapped between the mattress and their big bodies, and you feel like the room is spinning around you.

“You come so easily,” she mocks, pulling her fingers out once she’s sure you’re done, and slapping your clit, making you hiss.

Easily. If that was nothing to her…

“Naughty girl,” Johnny scoffs, pulling away from you and you whine when their hot bodies are not on you anymore.

You sigh, thinking since when you’re so pathetic and needy? You truly can’t last more than ten seconds without having them all over you?

“If you were ours that wouldn’t have gone unpunished,” he says, settling between your legs and spreading them apart. You barely noticed them moving around, already too far gone to be aware of what is going on around you. His intense gaze makes you shiver and more cum oozes out of your already messy, wet cunt. Johnny takes a deep breath, getting lost in the sight of you, your face is wrecked, your lips parted, your eyes watery, your boobs are heaving, and your hips are moving around, pleading him to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The compliment makes your heart swell and you weakly smile back at him.

“Come on, fuck her already,” Aaliyah encourages him, pushing his hips closer as she stands at his side, “she deserves it.”

You gasp under your breath when his hands wrap around the back of your knees and, with a strong tug, he pulls your body against his, the tip of his dick slapping against your core. He moves one hand down to grab the base and pushes his cock against your slit, it feels like forever as he rubs his leaking tip against your clit and every now and then pushes against your opening that’s fluttering, begging him to fill you up already.

“Johnny,” Aaliyah scolds sternly, looking at him up and down, and her dominance at the moment makes you shiver and moan, shamelessly. You try to close your legs to hide the effect it had on you but they both push them open, and somehow, the way they’re not paying attention to you, eyes locked into each others, and still have you under control, makes you whine even louder. “Stop teasing her,” she orders, cupping his chin and pulling him closer. “Don’t you see how badly she wants you? Dripping on the sheets like a kitten in heat?”

You frown at her comment even if well, she’s right. You’re sure you’ve never been this wet your entire life.

“As you wish, milady,” he jokes and in a second, he’s inside of you.

“Fuck,” you scream at the stretch, even if he didn’t bottom in, you still feel like you can barely breathe. “Oh, shit.”

“Damn, honey, I’m not even halfway in,” he comments, stopping and looking at you with a worried face.

“No, I’m fine, I was — too caught up,” too caught up in you two and I barely remember my name.

Aaliyah snickers, shaking her head. “You’re so cute, doll,” she hums, caressing your thigh, “just relax and take him all, uhm? He’s going to fuck you so well,” she says before addressing her husband, “right, Johnny?”

Johnny nods, smirking playfully before sinking further until his entire length is in.

Your head rolls back while pleasure dissipates inside your body, he fills you perfectly, stretching you so nicely. You feared it was going to be more painful, but it feels so good, and the pairs of hands soothing your skin are helping you calm down.

Johnny pulls you closer, beginning to slowly move his hips, hissing under his breath while your walls flutter around him so nicely, your wet, warm hole welcoming him with ease now that you’re not tense anymore.

And then it happens, for the first time that night, they kiss. You bite your lips with force as your eyes bore holes in them. Their lips move on their own, doing what they have been doing for a life now, and their hands pull each other close. You’ve seen them in similar circumstances before, but this, this, is different. Johnny is kissing his wife while he’s buried deep inside of you, one hand on the small of her back, the other keeping you spread, her hand tangled in his long, brown locks and the other intertwined with yours at your side.

Everything is oddly romantic and erotic at the same time. Everything makes perfect sense and no sense at all. But it’s fine. Tonight, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to worry, you want to roll around in this mess of limbs and skin and feel. Feel alive and loved. Even if it might be an illusion.

“Fuck, baby,” they moan when they pull apart, giggling at the way they’re in sinch even if for different things. Their eyes are on you again and while Johnny praises how good you feel, she praises how well you’re taking him.

And your heart jumps around while a dumb, drunk-in-love smile plasters on your face. But it swiftly drops when she moves up again to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. You try to study his expression, something flickers in his eyes, and they darken even more, you even feel his dick twitch inside of you, but you can’t make out anything of what she says.

Then Johnny’s hips come to an alt, and your throat dries.

“We were thinking you got to come two times already,” he starts, licking his lips, “and while I’m having fun with you, you will agree we kinda neglected Aaliyah, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes moving between the couple in swift motions.

“So, what do you think about turning around and eating her out while I keep fucking you?”

It’s like your brain sparks up and shuts down at the same time at his words. You nod eagerly, mumbling ‘yes’ while a small, fucked out smile creeps on your face.

“You want me, baby?” She asks, voice slurring out of her lips like velvet.

“Yes, please, want you so bad,” you reply, body buzzing in excitement as you take her body in.

You don’t have time to complain when Johnny pulls out of you, he swiftly turns you around, strong arms moving you as if you’re nothing for him, and given all the weights he lifts at the gym, it is nothing. Your body moves on its own, ass perking up while your face lowers down, close to the soft, perfumed sheets but not enough that you can’t use your lips.

And there she is, resting against the headboard with her legs spread right in front of your face. Her pussy’s dripping, clit throbbing in anticipation, and you envy how good she has been to hold it back for so long.

And even if your eyes are curious and sparkle with lust, she can sense your hesitation. “Come on, don’t be shy,” she encourages you, one hand gently cupping the back of your head, massaging your scalp, “don’t tell me it’s your first time.”

Well… not exactly, but you weren’t a pro at this either.

“Oh, you’re always on the receiving end?” She snickers, looking down at you. Eyes piercing you, pinning you down in your place. She has this thing, it’s like magic, one look and you’re right where she wants you, how she wants you.

“Mostly…” you admit shyly, looking down again.

“Well, time to change that,” she says before pushing you against her pussy.

Your lips move shily at first, it’s almost as if you’re testing the ground. Kitten licks are all you give her, licking up her sweet cum while your nose rubs against her clit. You breathe deep, getting lost in her aroma.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she praises, hand still caressing you but not pressing you down. If it was somebody else —even Johnny— she wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, but with you, she wants to take it slow and guide you through it.

You moan against her when Johnny pushes in again, this time he doesn’t wait before his hips start slamming against you, but he’s not going too fast. And the pleasure he’s fucking into you urges you to do better. You try to do what Johnny did to you before and every other person you’ve been with, and be better than the other times you’ve eaten pussy before.

“Yes, pretty girl, focus on the clit,” she instructs you, moving her hand down to caress your neck, and when you comply, a deep guttural moan rips from her throat. She hums in delight and your heart flips with pride. “Use your tongue.”

You hesitately stick your pink muscle out and poke it at her entrance but she stops you with a click of her tongue, “No, doll, up and down, come on, you can do it.” When your tongue starts doing that, licking her from the bottom of her entrance to the top, flicking your tip right under the hood of her clit, her legs shake and she pushes down a hiss. “So, so good, babydoll.”

“Shit, you’re so hot,” Johnny moans behind you, his hands holding tightly to your waist as he fucks you on his dick. He never imagined he’d be so turned on by this, but fuck, this is the dream. Seeing his wife’s face while you pleasure her, hearing her moan because of somebody else mouth, especially yours, makes him feel something he never felt before.

“You’re so good, doll. Such a fast learner, aren’t you? So eager to please us. So eager to be a good girl for us,” she moans, her fingers inevitably clenching around the roots of your hair when you suck hard on her clit. You seem to have found your scheme, keeping her pussy spread while your tongue runs on her labia and then your lips wrap around her clit, swift flicks of your tongue and shy hands testing what’s better.

You nod against her without pulling away, you could, but you don’t want to. You want to get drunk in her juices, you want to feel her thighs clench around your head —even if she’s trying hard not to do so— you want to hear her deep, intoxicating moans, you want her to pull your hair harder.

“Yes, you are,” she coos, meeting your half-lidded eyes, pushing down a guttural moan when a lonely tear rolls down your cheek, “you’re such a greedy little thing. One person it’s not enough for you, you need more. Is this enough or do you need even more, ugh? Bet you’d love it if we both fucked you at the same time.” Her condescending tone sends your brain into a spiral, you feel empty and yet overflowing, but you can’t reply. Johnny’s fucking you mercilessly now, big dick hitting you deep, striking all the right spots, and even if you’re giving something to her, you have zero control. You’re at their mercy, small and powerless, flushed between their bodies as you somehow do something like a robot.

“Loving eating her pussy while I fuck you hard?” This time is Johnny the one teasing you, his voice deeper but he gives no sign of slowing down, even if the pleasure is getting to him, you know it from his grunts and the way his hips falter every now and then. “Bet it feels so good to be muddy in our hands and have no worries in the world, right? You’re perfect here, nobody to impress,” he moans, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear while his body presses you closer against the bed, “no father to make happy. Just us. Honestly,” he groans, pulling back, squeezing your hips before driving all the way in with a decisive thrust, sending you forward, “he’d have a heart attack if he saw you like this.”

You whine, your laments muffled by Aaliyah’s body, and you feel like you could explode. Is this why you like being with them so much? Because the fact that they like you so much proves your father wrong? The very people that he worships are busy worshipping his daughter while he trashes her around. But you don’t want to think of him, one, it could ruin your orgasm, two, you have them, and that’s all that matters. And to be honest, you love being with them so much because they value you and appreciate you for who you truly are.

You pull away, letting your fingers take the place of your mouth, rubbing on her clit while you talk, “want you, want more, please.”

“More? What’s more than this?” Johnny asks, snickering.

“Sit on my face?” You ask shily while you look up at her, cum and spit dripping down your chin, eyes glossy with tears.

She loses herself in the sight of you. You’re perfect even if you look like a mess, even if your eyes roll back and your lips part open when Johnny hits your sweet spot another time. “Oh… let’s not pull your luck too much tonight, hum?”

“But I —”

“But you, nothing,” she shushes you up, two fingers on your mouth. “You’re being so good, giving me pleasure while you take him so well. Just keep going.” She’d love to sit on your face, only being able to watch your eyes slowly blank as her hips roll against you, while your pretty hands wrap around her thighs as it slowly gets harder to breathe, but you’re not ready for that, yet.

You give up, starting where you stopped. But soon enough you’re whining again, “No, please, please, Sir,” you cry out, looking back to meet Johnny’s gaze for a split second.

He seems a bit startled by the way you address him, but he quickly shakes the surprise off to tease you with a condescending tone. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted more?” The pout that accompanies his words makes your stomach twist in a knot. You did want more, but the more was being smashed underneath them, not having his skilled fingers rub quick circles on your over-sensitive clit.

“I — I don’t want to come again,” you cry out.

“Oh, you won’t,” she speaks instead. “Don’t get too greedy and take it,” she orders, cupping your chin before pushing you between her legs again. Her patience could only last this long before she would snap.

“Right, because you can take it, right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head to get a peak of your flustered face. You’re burning up, sweat pearling your skin, the shorter hair sticking to your forehead, eyes blinking out tears of pleasure, and body squirming while you try so hard to keep focus on the only thing you have to do.

You doubt you can, but you still nod, moans getting choked up in your throat and against her cunt as you try to use your tongue and mouth the best you can even if control is slipping out of you more and more.

Fighting the orgasm is probably worse than keeping focus. Your stomach is upside down, and you feel all your nerves tense up, every single touch makes you jolt up and you know your throat will be sore by the end of the night for all the moans you’re letting out.

And you slip, eyes closing and mouth getting lazy as your body limply gets slammed between them.

“Hey,” you’re startled when her palm meets your face in quick, light slaps to wake you up, “don’t you fucking dare,” it’s the only warning that slips from her mouth, so sternly it should make you obey on the spot, but it only makes it harder for you to hold back. “Put that mouth to good use, come on.”

You don’t have a choice —not that you would want to do anything else— when she forces your face down again, this time grinding her hips against you to help you out, or honestly, to fuck herself against you because you’re not doing so much anymore.

She scoffs, “You’re being so good for Johnny, bet your pussy is sucking him in so well, dripping down to his balls and clenching tight, you can’t do one thing for me?”

You gasp for air when she yanks you back by the end of your hair, letting you breathe again, watching the tears fall freely from your pretty eyes. Your lashes are clumped together, and some mascara stained your cheeks; so, so pretty, she could stare at you forever.

“I can. I — I promise, I’ll be your good girl, I’ll give you what you want, fuck,” you mumble, words tangling on your tongue.

You’re so fucked out that spit is dripping down your chin, mixing with her cum, and she can’t fight the urge to smear it on your face.

Aaliyah could come by that sight only. To think when she first saw you were shily standing in a corner, trying to have less attention possible on you, stuttering your words at the speech your father made you hold, and almost fell down the stage. And now, you’re a mess in their bed, far away from home after you followed them blindly.

“Good, then use your fingers, come on,” she orders, biting her lips as you struggle to push your body up to finger her. This is exciting, with Johnny it had always been a fight for dominance, but with you, everything works perfectly, you fit between them with ease.

Johnny’s hands help you stand up, but he can’t deny how hot he finds the way you can’t control your body. He wishes he could see your face, you must be so pretty all messed up, but he’ll use his imagination.

“Come on, honey, fuck her, she took such good care of you,” Johnny encourages you, and that’s all you need to push two fingers inside of her. Her warm walls welcome you with ease, cum coating them until it drips down on your wrist.

Aaliyah’s face twists in an expression of pleasure as soon as you start curling your fingers. You’re definitely better with them than you are with your mouth, but it’s fine, there will be time to practice if you ever want to stick around.

“Good girl,” she praises, caressing your cheek gently before pulling you in a kiss. Doing so, Johnny slips out of you, and you whine at the loss, but soon enough he’s fucking into you again.

“Won’t — won’t last long,” you whimper, crying more as you feel heavier.

Johnny hums, pushing you down again and you lazily go back to lapping on her pussy while your fingers keep moving.

“Come here,” you hear him say, but he’s not talking to you. You can’t see, but you know they’re kissing because you feel smaller and more trapped as their bodies get closer, and then the wet sounds of their lips hit your ears. Their moans mix in their mouth, and you can feel the desperation they’re sharing as their teeth clash together.

You want to kiss them too, but you have other things to worry about, like the orgasm you can’t hold in anymore.

“Want to come, please,” you beg, tears adding to the mess between her legs as you try to gasp for more air.

They pull away from the kiss, bringing their attention to you another time.

“You want to come?” You nod swiftly. She’s sure you’re not doing it on purpose but the way your big eyes are looking up at her and your lips tremble, make her heart warm up. You’re so precious. “Then don’t stop fucking me,” she orders, voice low that causes your stomach to twist again. “Don’t stop being a perfect, little, mindless fuckdoll for us.”

Johnny growls, rolling his head back, “Fuck, stop talking to her like that, she’s squeezing me.”

Aaliyah chuckles darkly, sweetly mockingly caressing your wet cheeks. “You want me to stop talking to her because you can’t handle a sweet pussy sucking you in?”

He rolls his eyes and throws his head back, scoffing at her comment.

“It’s not my fault she likes it when I talk down to her,” she coos, looking at him but her words hit you deep. It’s so humiliating the way they’re talking about you as if you’re not here, and yet, it only makes you wetter. “I could do so much more, but I doubt she can take it.”

I can. You scream, but it stays inside your brain, no words can come out of your mouth anymore.

They both giggle at your broken moan that comes out as a reply.

“No thoughts left in that little mind of yours, uhm?” Johnny teases, his fingers playing with your nipples making you cry out more.

Your head is abandoned on her thigh, drool dripping out of the corner of your lips while your fingers pump in and out in tired, messy movements. You’re so far gone that she has to help you fuck her by guiding your wrist.

“Except how good it feels to be surrounded by us. You love it when we trap you between us and make you feel small, don’t you? Bet you’d love it even more if I fucked your mouth with a toy while he fucked your pussy, or maybe the other way around.”

You yelp when someone smacks your ass, you don’t care to figure out if it’s him or her. It doesn’t matter, it only adds to the pleasure and dizziness.

“Or maybe we could each take a hole and stuff you til you break,” Johnny giggles lowly. “Your tight ass and pussy spread by us.”

“Please,” you cry out. Please make me come and please do it. Please fuck me at the same time, from both ends and until I’m nothing between you. But it stays inside, they get it anyway, like they get all of you.

“C’mere,” Johnny chuckles as he manoeuvres you, lifting your body and pushing you closer to his wife. You’re kneeling now, body slumped against hers while he presses you flat, your fingers still moving inside of her while you moan in the crook of her neck. It feels warm, almost romantic, and you feel so small.

The hand that is not helping you fuck her, wraps around your waist and starts rubbing circles on your burning hot skin, meeting Johnny’s that doing the same.

“Look at you, doll, you’ve been so good. What do you say, John, should she come?” Aaliyah’s voice is particularly sweet, reaching your ear like a faint melody and you feel farther and farther from your body.

“I think she deserves it,” Johnny replies, kissing your neck to distract you from his hand slipping down to your clit.

Your teeth sink into her skin, making her hiss, not in pain but most in surprise, and your face wets even more while a loud sob rips from your throat.

“Come on, princess,” she whispers close to you, leaving pecks on top of your head, “be a good girl and come with us.”

You don’t let them tell you twice when their pace fastens and all the stimuli get to your head one last time. This orgasm is like an explosion that leaves you trembling between their bodies, whimpering and moaning as the violent waves shock you to the core.

“Fuck, so fucking tight,” Johnny murmurs under his breath, hips slamming messily against your ass as he chases his orgasm. He’s caught up in your face before his eyes fall on his wife’s pussy, you stopped fucking her and she’s trying to rub her fingers on her clit, if you weren’t so far gone, brain mush in your skull, she would’ve said something, but she knows is no use now.

You’re collapsed on her body when your eyes trail between her legs, watching in awe as Johnny’s fingers fuck her fast and his thumb rubs her clit as he keeps pouding into you. Their moans are louder as they approach their release and her head falls against the board of the bed while her hands clench around your waist to hold onto something.

And you come again. An unexpected fourth orgasm washes over you, ass arching up and nails sinking into her thigh as you feel as life is being sucked away from you, and that’s what pushes them over the edge, your soft, broken whimpers mixing with theirs and your low mumbles of their names, it’s not Mr. and Mrs. Suh, is Johnny and Aaliyah now, only for you.

More curses fill the air before everything comes to a stop, Johnny’s body falling on yours for a second before he forces himself to pull out and roll to the side.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Come here,” she whispers, soothing you as she pulls your body closer, hugging you and caressing your back and hair. You’re still shaking and crying, and your hands wrap quickly around her. “You’re fine, we’re here. It’s over.”

Soon after you feel Johnny’s hands too, and then his soothing words. “You’ve been so good, princess. Was it fun?”

His question is left unanswered, and they understand it will take you a while to start talking again. So they keep whispering sweet words to your ears while their hands calm you down with gentle touches. You don’t remember how long it takes before you fall into a deep slumber, but you know you feel a sense of peace you never felt before.

When you wake up, the clock hits midnight, you’re alone in the bed but you’re cleaned up and you’re dressed in a white shirt that reaches your thighs.

Somehow your legs carry your body out of the room and down the stairs where you take a sigh of relief seeing them laughing as they sit at the table. They’re dressed again, Johnny’s hair is brushed in its place, and her braids are pulled up in a bun again, they look as composed as usual but more familiar.

“Hey, you’re up?” Johnny is the first one who sees you and welcomes you with a sweet smile.

“We were starving. We wanted you to eat but you fell asleep, and for how intense it was we figured you were going to sleep until morning,” Aaliyah explains, moving a stool so you could sit between them, tapping on the seat to signal you to reach them.

You push your feet forward, legs wobbly and heart still racing, but this time is not the orgasm. You’re still lost in the haze, but now you’re fully aware of what happened, and you don’t know how to act in the aftermath.

“Are you alright? You stopped talking, it worried us a bit,” she says, lifting her hand to caress your nape after she tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nod, shoulders dropping as the tension disappears at her touch. “I’m fine. I guess it was a lot, it never happened before.”

Johnny comes back to you with a glass of water and some bowls with different food, leaving you a choice between fruits, something sweet, and something salty.

“Thanks,” you reply, grabbing the glass and gulping it in one go. “Honestly, I’m not really hungry,” you say, eyes diverting their gazes, there’s still a bit of worry behind them and you’re not used to people caring so much for you, especially after sex. You don’t think you ever saw a one-night-stand the morning after, but not even your exes cared much about how you felt after sex.

“No? Do you need something else?” Johnny asks, a caring tone filling his words, and the look in his eyes is different than all the other times before.

You look around, shaking your head, your throat is dry again and from the corner of your eyes, you see her filling the glass again. You smile shyly before drinking it. “I… I don’t want to sleep alone,” you confess, biting your lips and playing with the hem of the glass in your hands.

They smile, hands cupping yours before holding tight. “We had no intention of leaving you alone,” they say at the same time, making you smile.

“A bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Johnny jokes while Aaliyah leaves to put the food back in its place. You might be awake but it’s clear as daylight that you’re still tired and want to sleep.

“Mhh,” you mumble. Your eyes lift to look at Johnny and you smile. He looks beautiful, the faint silver light of the moonlight paiting his cheekbones and hair.

“And still not very talkative,” she adds when she comes back, a soft look in her eyes. “Come on, there’s no need to talk, let’s get you to bed.” She stretches a hand out and you quickly grab it, jumping off the chair but regretting it when your legs make it known they’re not back just yet.

You gasp when two arms wrap around you and lift you up, and soon you’re met with Johnny’s eyes. You smile at him before locking eyes with her who’s following behind and quickly is at your side.

“Thanks,” you whisper because he’s carrying you but mostly, for the night you spent. You decide you will worry tomorrow, for now, you feel full, they made you feel wanted, and dare to say, even loved. It’s all that matters.

“You have to be grateful, he stopped carrying me upstairs a long time ago,” she jokes and Johnny scoffs, “Liar.”

And soon the three of you are in the bed again, the dirty duvet is not on the mattress anymore and a thinner blanket covers you. You’re in the middle, pressed between their bodies while they leave kisses on your face, and whisper sweet words to you, their hands intertwined on your stomach while their thumbs rub small circles on your skin.

And as sleep takes over you again, you think that there’s no other place you’d rather be, if not between them.

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runnning-outof-time · 14 days

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The Joys of Being a Girl Dad | Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons (set in Girl Dad series)

Request: no - written for @justrainandcoffee ‘s 2 year ‘Alfieversary’

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (x Reader mentioned) & Alfie Solomons (x fem!OC & child OC mentioned)

Summary: Tommy stops by Margate to congratulate an old associate…adversary…friend.

Warnings: language (it’s Tommy and Alfie we’re talking about here), a slight bit of Cyril slander

A/N: I’m sorry it took me soooo long to write something for your celebration, Flor!! I guess I could call this a present for Rose’s 1 year anniversary too now, even though she’s not really in it. Thank you for sharing this beautiful au with us!!

A/N 2: I should also say that this story was supposed to be shorter, but I just kinda became invested and ran away with it…I hope you don’t mind. Also it’s been a bit since I’ve written for Alfie, so I hope he’s not too ooc here. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

“Who let you in?” the man who was sitting facing the open balcony door asked.

“How’d you know it was me?” the other man, who was standing at the entrance of the room, responded with his own question.

“Smelt the smoke and horse shit the second you stepped through that archway,” the first man mused, earning a snort from the second. “So I’ll ask again: who let you in?”

“Your wife…”

“Figures she did,” the first man cut the second off, muttering the comment under his breath.

“Your wife’s assistant let me in after she told me to get lost and slammed the door in my face,” the rest of the statement was shared, which made the first man finally spin in his seat to look back towards the archway.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, the two men staring at each other from several paces away…much like they had on that fated day all those months ago. “So why didn’t ya listen to her?” the first man finally broke the quiet, his quip conjoined with a look of query.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Alfie?” the second man asked, his eyebrows just slightly raised.

“It has,” the first man nodded, pursing his lips together for a moment before he continued, “yet it is still sooner than the day in which I thought I’d see Tommy Shelby again.”

Tommy Shelby just shook his head at the man’s remark, looking at the ground as he pursed his lips. It didn’t faze him in the slightest.

“Why’re you here then?” Alfie asked, still wanting to get to the bottom of the Birmingham man’s presence. However, he interjected again before said man even had the chance to speak: “you’ve come to finish me off, haven’t ya? Since ya couldn’t get it right the first time.”

“I’ve come with something,” Tommy answered, not even bothering to respond to Alfie’s second comment.

He then stepped towards the chair that the other man was sitting in, his hands still behind his back. Anyone else would have wondered if maybe they’d got it right…maybe he was actually there to finish his old adversary off. But Alfie wasn’t bothered in the slightest. No, he could tell from the manner in which Tommy approached him.

“I want to offer a congratulations…on your daughter,” Tommy finished his statement once he was standing in front of Alfie. Alfie looked him over with raised eyebrows, wondering just how a busy, business-minded man like him would have gotten such information. “(Y/N) told me the news. She got word of it from Rose,” Tommy gave the curious man some more information.

“That Rosie…” Alfie mused with a slight shake of his head, “I had a feelin’ that she hadn’t cut off all contact with you Shelbys.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his wife still keeping up a regular correspondence with the wife of the man who’d shot him.

(Y/N) and Rose had hit it off practically from the moment they met each other. Their friendship went beyond their husbands’ business partnership, and so when one disgruntled husband aimed a gun at the other and pulled the trigger, the two women tried hard not to let it come completely between them. There some time where radio silence prevailed…actually most out the time over the course of the last year was filled with radio silence, but it didn’t seem like a beat was missed when Rose contacted (Y/N) to tell her of the newest addition to the Solomons family.

Although Tommy was more hesitant to make amends, he couldn’t deny his wife’s request to deliver something to the newest Solomons.

“She wanted me to give you this,” Tommy then said, finally revealing the tan, stuffed rabbit that he’d brought with him. “To give to her,” he included, making his intentions more clear.

“I knew you weren’t givin’ me a stuffed rabbit,” Alfie quipped, snorting to himself before continuing, “or at least I hope you were plannin’ to.”

��I wasn’t planning on doing that, Alfie, no,” Tommy shook his head, dismissing the comment before it gained any ground. “The rabbit’s for your girl.”

Alfie took a moment to look over the other man again. He was still holding the rabbit out in front of him, waiting for Alfie to take it. Tommy wondered how long Alfie was going to make him stand like this.

Finally he took it. “She’ll like it,” Alfie stated, eyeing over the animal from close up now. He couldn’t deny that it felt soft in his hands. Allie would surely love it. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“My three couldn’t go to bed without it,” Tommy commented, a small smile gracing his lips as he thought of his three daughters and the love they had for that very stuffed rabbit.

A look of realization flashed across Alfie’s face as he heard Tommy’s comment. He brought his hand up to his jaw and ran it down his cheek slowly, stroking his beard as if he was in thought. “Have a seat,” he then said, gesturing to the chair that was set directly across from the one he was sitting in. He waited until the other man was seated before continuing, “three girls, huh?” he mused, sounding like he was talking more so to himself than anything.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded in response.

“A proper girl dad,” Alfie commented then.

“A what?” Tommy asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re a dad that’s got all girls, hence the fucking term girl dad…stick with it, Tommy,” the response came laden with derision.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at the other man’s comments, looking to the ground as he let the air cool off before he cleared his throat and nodded his head. “Yeah, a girl dad then.” He ran a hand along the back of his head as he spoke, wondering if he was even using the term correctly. Alfie didn’t comment, so he guessed that he didn’t seem to care none.

Instead the newer father continued on with the conversation. “Does it ever get hard?”

“What? Being a girl dad?” Tommy looked over at him again.

“No, not being able to hit your fucking mark when you’re fifteen fucking paces away,” Alfie retorted, “yes, being a girl dad,” he then exaggerated his words.

Tommy bit his tongue yet again. He wasn’t here to get into a fight with Alfie Solomons. The rabbit currently sitting in the other man’s lap was supposed to serve as a sort of olive branch.

“It does,” he finally answered after a moment’s pause.

“Give me some fuckin’ detail, mate,” Alfie asked.

“Fuckin’ hell, Alfie,” Tommy sighed under his breath, pressing the pads of his thumbs against his eyelids. He cleared his throat again as he thought of how he’d answer the question. “It’s been hard from the moment we brought Thea home. A different sort of hard than the ‘hard’ I’ve experienced prior. But it’s also been rewarding...with Thea, then Evie and now Juniper. I’ve learned more from them than from anything else I’ve ever done.”

Alfie took a moment to digest what his confidant had just shared with him. He truly didn’t expect Tommy Shelby to come out with such meaningful statements. I guess even the worst of men can change their tones, he thought to himself. “I didn’t know ya had it in ya, Tommy,” he commented, exuding a breath of a laugh as he shook his head.

Tommy kept his eyes locked on Alfie unsure of how to respond to his comment. He wondered if this was all some sort of game…if Alfie now wanted to toy with him; getting him to open up just to use the information against him.

“Thanks for sharing it though. I, uh…” Alfie paused, the sound of his voice cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and making him focus in again. “I’ll take all of the help I can get with this one. They say that raising a child takes a fucking village, or however that fucking saying goes.”

“There’s a great deal of joy in it too,” Tommy made sure to add, hoping to convey that having daughters, or kids at all for that matter, wasn’t only stressful. “I just know that I wouldn’t be able to do it without (Y/N) though.”

“That’s the same with me and my Rosie. A fuckin’ trooper, that woman is,” Alfie agreed in regards to his wife. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for Rose Solomons. He genuinely owed his life to her…and he was going to spend the rest of it showing her.

Silence fell between the two men then, both sitting comfortably in their thoughts of the women they had in their lives, and of how much their respective wives meant to them. The silence hung until the sound of small feet came pattering off of the hardwood in the hallway.

“Daddy! Daddy!” a shrill voice of a small girl soon accompanied the hurried footsteps. Said girl quickly appeared in the archway of Alfie office. Along with her frantic demeanor, Alfie was also able to see streaks of tears on her chreks.

“What’s wrong, Allie?” he asked her, his brows furrowing together.

“Cyril chewed on my stuffie, daddy!” she exclaimed, hiccuping as she spoke through her tears. “It was my favorite stuffie!”

“Awe now love, I’m sorry about that,” Alfie began, opening his arms to the child as she came over to him. She quickly fell into them, and he wasted no time in hugging her tightly. “He’s just a brute that knows nothing of favorite stuffies,” he consoled her as she continued to sniffle her tears away.

Tommy watched on as the moment played out in front of him. He laughed to himself as hearing the reason behind the problem at hand took him back to the moments where Cyril had chewed his girls’ stuffies; there had to have been several instances during the dog’s stay at Arrow House.

“I don’t have a stuffie now, daddy,” Allie whimpered, finally lifting her head from her father’s chest. “Mum said it was too covered in slobber to be saved.”

“Well I’ve got just the fix for ya, Allie,” Alfie began, unwrapping one of his arms from her so that he could blindly search for the stuffed rabbit that Tommy had just handed him. He continued when he found the animal, “now I know it’s no bear, and I know that your favorite stuffies have all been bears, but this lovely little lass was just placed upon my lap moments before you came runnin’ in.”

Allie’s eyes immediately found the rabbit, and she had it in her tight embrace within an instant. “This stuffie is so soft! And she has a lovely bow!” she observed, now beaming with excitement. “Thank you so much, daddy!” she smiled at her father.

“Thanks have to go to that man,” Alfie told his daughter, nodding in Tommy’s direction. He bit his tounge and stopped the urge to add ‘the one who shot your father’ because even he knew this wasn’t the time for that. He didn’t want to bring that feud into Allie’s realm.

“What’s his name?” Allie asked in a loud whisper, her shy eyes finding Tommy’s.

“Tell ‘er your name, mate,” Alfie beckoned Tommy to share the information.

“It’s Tommy,” the other man followed suit, smiling as he spoke.

Allie observed him for a moment, surely trying to decide what she felt about him. A few beats of silence passed before a smile formed on her face. “Thank you, Mr. Tommy,” she said in a small voice.

“You’re welcome, Allie,” Tommy nodded, his smile widening.

“Dad you have to yell at Cyril now,” Allie turned back to her dad, a deep frown present on her face.

“I’ll make sure he knows what he’s done,” Alfie assured her, “go play, love.”

With one last smile, Allie hopped off of her father’s lap and exited the room almost as quick as she entered it.

“That fuckin’ dog…” Alfie trailed off, shaking his head, “why’d you give him back?”

“You wanted him back, Alfie,” Tommy answered in a monotone voice.

“You may be right,” Alfie conceded, cracking a smile as he thought about the dog.

“Your daughter’s lovely,” Tommy commented.

“She is, ain’t she?” Alfie answered, “light of my fuckin’ life, that girl…both her and her mum.”

Tommy nodded, his mind going to his wife and daughters. There was no doubt that he shared the same sentiment towards his girls.

Oh, the joys of being a girl dad…even if — or rather when, because it’ll surely happen again — Tommy and Alfie were at odds with each other, they’ll always have the shared title as something they can both relate to.

MASTERLIST

The Story of Rose and Alfie

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

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@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @jomarch-wannabe @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

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kairismess · 5 months

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❝WRITTEN IN BETWEEN THE LINES...❞

🏐 genre: fluff ~~ ✒️ word count: 1076 💭 summary: kuroo had nothing to do one slow afternoon, until you caught his eye and... he just knew he had to get to know you. but, it seems that he's gotten to know himself better after meeting you: he officially has a thing for bookworms. chatty yet shy ones, in fact. 🍥 author's note: i need more friends like y/n / reader fr... ALSO IF Y'ALL CAUGHT THE REFERENCE ON WHICH GHIBLI MOVIE THIS IS BASED OFF, MARRY ME RN

kuroo could remember the first time he laid eyes on you, he was at the public library looking for advanced chemistry textbooks—or at least, pretending to look for a book that had word vomits of stuff he already knew very well, like the back of his hand. it was a slow afternoon, he had nothing to do since kenma and his family were out of town for the weekend, and he didn't want to stay holed up in his room doing nothing.

he had tried to fit in with everyone else there, running the tips of his slender fingers over the used and fresh spines of the books on the shelves he couldn't bother to read the section names of; to him, they were all the same, he knew most of what these books and journals had to offer. ultimately, he decided to check out the section that was most foreign to him: the fiction books section.

he saw a multitude of names, a flurry of colors that flew by his eyes as he mumbled out the titles off the books he pulled out of the shelves and from their spines. kuroo wasn't even sure what exactly he was looking for here, or what he was even supposed to be doing at the library, he just... needed somewhere to bide his time, somewhere to feel less lonely; and yet, he had felt lonelier and lonelier the more time he spent there.

on the verge of giving up, he accidentally bumped into someone about a foot shorter than him. he hurriedly apologized, seeing that the one he bumped into was... a very cute girl. "oh, i'm... really sorry, here, let me help you," he offered, helping you pick up the books that flew out of your hands when he bumped into you. you silently nodded your thanks, mumbling it out in case it came out unclear to him.

kuroo noticed that the books you were carrying were all... interesting, to say the least. "hmm, never heard of these authors before..." he thought aloud, making your head perk up slowly. you bit your lower lip, trying your hardest not to comment on that. you were an avid reader of those authors, quite passionate about their books and the genres they write, to say the least. "they're great writers..." you mumble out shyly, feeling a cold shiver down your fingers and a warm tingle down your spine; this boy was too cute, in your opinion, you couldn't keep a level head around him, at all.

when your shy little voice entered kuroo's ear, a playful smile appeared on the boy's angular face. "really? well, i don't really know much about fiction, and, uh... you seem like you knew a good amount of it to get a newbie like me started. so, care to recommend me some good writers and genres?" he asked you in a husky voice, making you even more bashful at the fact such a hot boy was asking you for book recommendations, the second thing you were most passionate about in the whole world.

your first favorite thing in the whole world, however... was getting totally engrossed in the stories you were reading. it was a one of a kind experience only you could go through, because of course, everyone had different interpretations of the texts they were reading; but you always had a fondness for discovering the rich backgrounds, symbolisms, and stories the authors wished to reach their audiences. and kuroo was more than willing to listen to you go on and on about the stories you loved, even if a shy cutie like you would take forever to open up.

for the first time in his life, the boy finally didn't feel so alone, so isolated, so out of place setting foot here in the library; he felt at peace, something he yearned for ever since he came here.

"wow, they all sound so intriguing; guess i'll have to borrow those books after you finish them." "i... already did." you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with him. he blinked his hazelnut eyes twice in disbelief. "you finished... all of them?" he asked in a soft voice, with you nodding in response. kuroo chuckled to himself, leaning closer to you. "you're impressive..." he whispered in your ear, sending shivers up your spine, good shivers, good tingles–you could tell that, somehow, he genuinely was impressed by your dedication for reading.

kuroo stayed with you until the end of the day, and when it was time for you to return all the books you borrowed, he followed up with the librarian, stating, "excuse me, may i borrow all those books afterwards? they're... very interesting, i'd like to read them. all of them," he uttered with a smile, looking at you with a glowing grin on his face.

the librarian eventually agreed, asking kuroo for his name and signing his name after yours on every book you returned, that he was soon going to borrow. "y'know what, i'll bet that i'm going to read every book here that has your name on the back of it. i probably won't be interested in any other book if i don't see your name on it, it wouldn't make me interested."

his words made your heart beat a little faster, your knees shake a bit. you fidgeted with your fingers, looking down at your shoes and the floor, as if the right thing to respond to his words were there, hidden in between the lines of where the tiles met. "but... why would you...? why me?" "because, why not? you're amazing, and i want to be a part of your world; your literary world, if you will," kuroo beamed, grinning after confessing that.

it had only been a day, but, you felt like today was a gem in the days that felt like dull, bland charcoal. today, you met a wonderful boy–a boy whose life you didn't realize you'd changed, by simply letting him in, and showing him the beauty of your mind and heart when it came to your interest in the art of words and imagination.

you'd better get used to seeing that rooster headed, teasing boy every weekend now; he has something to brag to kenma about when he'd get back from his family outing.

but the one thing to ruin kuroo's evening is this realization he had over dinner: he forgot to ask you for your number.

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em-dash-press · 1 year

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How to Survive the Editing Process

Writing a first draft takes so much of your time and energy. When you finish something, celebrate your accomplishment! It’s proof of your creativity and hard work.

If you want people to read your work, then it’s time to edit.

Editing can seem scary. Daunting. Confusing.

Use these tips to get started.

1. Take a Break from Your Work

It’s so important to let your brain reset after finishing any story. Close your draft and spend the next few days or weeks doing other hobbies. When you feel ready to return with a newly energized, distanced perspective, you’ll get your best editing work done.

2. Start With Developmental Editing

Writers often think that they have to start editing line by line, looking for grammar and spelling issues. While you’re free to do that, you’re likely going to add and remove plenty of content before your final draft is done.

Instead, start with developmental editing. Read through your work and take notes about how the larger plot points are working or not working. Does each chapter move your characters through each point on your plot outline or your visualized storyline?

This step may involve adding new scenes or removing others. It can also mean reworking old scenes so they’re less wordy, more descriptive, more actionable, or whatever you feel like is missing.

Take notes about plot holes too. You don’t have to fix them on your first read-through, but note where they’re happening and why they’re holes. You can return in your second read-through to address them.

You can also break your developmental editing into questions, like:

What is my story’s theme and does each chapter support that theme?

What does every character want and do they achieve that? Why or why not?

What motivates each character? Do they retain that motivation or develop a new one to better serve the plot? (Sometimes writers forget about initial character motivations while getting lost in the writing process. This is the time to revisit that!)

Do you have a beginning, an inciting incident, building through the middle, and payoff at the end? (You can have much more than these, but these are very basic plot mechanics to look for.)

3. Save and Start a Second Draft

After reading through your manuscript and noting the things above, create a copy for your second draft and start working on your notes. It’s good to have a separate second copy in case you want to include something from the original draft later on or just want to compare where you story started/how it ended up.

Again, you’re not supposed to worry about line work at this point. Focus on bigger-picture story issues like plot mechanics, how scenes work/don’t work, plot holes, and your theme(s).

Reminder: there’s no timeline for getting these steps done. Work when you have the energy and take breaks when you don’t. Your manuscript will stay right where you save it.

4. Reread Your Work

When you’ve worked through your list of notes, make a copy of your manuscript and start Round 3. Reread your story and start a new list of bigger-picture notes as needed. This time, the list should be shorter or include new notes that you didn’t catch before. They may also include notes for new scenes you just added.

The point of this reread is to make sure that your manuscript still works. Your plot shouldn’t have any holes, it should flow smoothly, and it should be engaging.

Here’s a key concern for many writers: how do you edit your story without getting away from your original intentions?

Keep your eyes locked on why you write your original draft. If you make edits/scene removals or additions with that purpose or theme in mind, your story will stay on track. It may eventually look completely different than what you originally wrote (if that’s your editing journey), but the heart of it will remain the same.

Try posting your story’s purpose or theme on a sticky note attached to your monitor.

You could also write the theme in your document’s header so it appears on every page.

5. Save and Start a Fourth Draft

Yes, it’s time for another new copy that’s your official fourth draft.

Remember—you can still walk away and return to your work later! Burnout won’t result in the story you’ve been working so hard to create. Get some sleep, see some friends, enjoy your other hobbies. You’ll come back ready to go.

The fourth draft is another chance to read through your work and ensure that everything works. Your chapters should get your characters closer to your theme/purpose with each page. The scenes should flow, not repeat information, and keep you engaged.

When you have a small list of edits or none at all, it’s time to start line work.

The spell check feature of any word processing software is a lifesaver, but it’s also not perfect. You’re going to have sentence structures that spell check deems incorrect when it actually works for your writing style or character. You’ll have fake names you made up that spell check wants to change.

If you use spell check, proceed slowly. Read every sentence with a flagged issue to make sure it’s a good or bad suggestion.

You can double your line work by combing through it by yourself. Print your story and grab a highlighter or use the highlight feature on your computer. Note linework issues that you can fix with a quick edit when you get a chance, like:

Misspellings

Missing punctuation

Wrong punctuation marks

Missing words

Inconsistent capitalization or spelling

Formatting issues (spelling out numbers vs using numerals, etc.)

Using the wrong tense in some paragraphs or chapters

Inserting indents as needed

Extra spaces between paragraphs

6. Send Your Work to Beta Readers

Repeat the saving, making a copy, and editing as many times as you want. When you feel like you’ve got your strongest draft yet, you can send it to beta readers.

How you define beta readers depends on your specific situation. You may have a few writing friends who know the craft well and will read your work with a professional eye. You might have a family member or best friend who doesn’t know about the craft of writing but always reads your work.

There are also places like Reddit threads and Facebook groups where people volunteer as beta readers.

The primary reason to get fresh eyes on your work is to get notes from someone who hasn’t been working on the content for months or years.

Their advice might not always be usable, but it’s still an important part of editing. Your beta reader might suggest points where they lost interest because your pacing slows down or point out places where you described your protagonist as having long hair when they have short hair during the rest of the story.

You’ll know which suggestions are actionable and which aren’t based on who’s speaking and how it resonates with your story’s purpose. You’ll probably get better advice from other writers who have been through editing before, but that doesn’t mean their advice will always be correct.

Check in with your story’s purpose or theme before taking action on a beta reader’s notes.

When Should You Stop Editing?

One of the final battles during your editing experience will be recognizing when you can stop working on your manuscript.

There will always be moments where you could think of a new scene or a new way to rewrite a scene. That doesn’t mean you have to!

Ask yourself these questions to finish your editing when your story is strongest:

Question 1: Have I Worked Through the Most Essential Plot Mechanics?

A finished manuscript doesn’t need more structural work. But structural, I mean that you’ll be at peace because your manuscript:

Doesn’t have any plot holes

Addresses your theme/message from beginning to end

Showcases each character’s growth through plot developments

Has natural dialogue

Has introduced and resolved conflicts (with the exception of conflicts that will continue in a sequel or series)

Has no known typos or grammar issues

Question 2: Are My Edits Improvements or Are They Inconsequential?

You could spend a lifetime swapping character names, adjusting your world map, or revising how you describe locations. You might like your edits better, but they aren’t vital to your story’s plot or character development. If there’s no substantial improvement with your edits, you’re likely done with your manuscript.

-----

Editing can be tricky at first, but using steps like these will help you whack through the densest parts of the work. Take your time, give yourself space to rest, and you’ll create the story you’ve been working so hard to finish!

#editing #editing tips #editing advice #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing tips #writing advice

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years

Text

Faking It | Part VII

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

A/N: So happy to be able to post this after yesterday's fiasco! I know I said this would be the last chapter but apparently I can't stop haha WHOOPS! This story seemed way shorter in my head lol So, yeah, there will be another chapter after this one.

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: swearing, angst, fluff, suggestive language and themes, annoying af ex-boyfriend, TALL & PROTECTIVE Rooster (swoon) - look at me saving the best for last XD

Start from the beginning: Part I

“Let’s go,” Bradley says in a low voice, his face still far too close to yours for you to see much more than the mustache above his lip.

“Right now?” you ask, slightly bewildered by the urgency in his tone.

“Right now,” he breathes, starting to usher you toward the doors.

“Okay,” you say, trying to conceal your disappointment. “Let’s get our stuff,” you add, reluctantly detaching yourself from Bradley’s embrace to head back to the table. But as you are making you way through the flurry of dancing guests, Bradley’s hand finds yours in the darkness while he trails in your wake.

“Are you leaving, Y/N?” your mother asks as you collect your purse from the chair.

You look up at her guiltily. “Uh, yeah,” you say. “We’re kind of tired.”

Your mother eyes you suspiciously, then her gaze shifts to Bradley who is gathering his jacket. “Have a good night,” she says.

You nod quickly and turn to leave. Then, you hear Bradley speak, “Congratulations, ma’am. On your daughter’s marriage.”

“Thank you, Bradley,” your mother responds. “I suppose I should also thank you for not throwing Steven into the lake.”

Bradley chuckles. “There’s always tomorrow.”

You turn around to see a faint smile pass over your mother’s lips. “Yes, well, I’m starting to understand why you might want to,” she says.

Bradley’s grin widens. “I appreciate that, ma’am.”

Bradley glances back at you and offers his arm. You hook your hand through it as the two of you make your way toward the exit. Bradley opens the door for you to step outside. The wind picks up your hair and your skirt but, before you can start to shiver, you feel Bradley’s jacket drop over your shoulders as he walks past. The faint scent of his cologne still lingers on the collar.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as he skips down the steps toward the walkway.

He holds his hand out to help you descend and you take it hesitantly, letting go of him the moment you’re on the sidewalk. Bradley seems equally uneasy, walking a few steps away from you, his hands in his pockets.

The two of you stroll quietly up the path toward the beach. By the time you reach the boardwalk, the silence becomes noticeably uncomfortable, and you decide to address the issue head-on. “That was weird, right?” you say.

Bradley glances over at you, his eyes raking over your figure before meeting your gaze. “Was it?” he asks.

You bite forcefully into your bottom lip, your pace slowing considerably at his words. “Don’t you think it was weird?” you ask.

Bradley’s expression is inscrutable as he shrugs, looking over your shoulder at something in the distance. “It was alright,” he says, turning away to continue walking.

You pull at the collar of his jacket to wrap it tighter around your body, not overly pleased with his casual attitude concerning an incident that still has your head spinning and your stomach contents churning. It would be better if he’d found the situation awkward because then, at least, you’d know that your friendship is something he means to preserve once this is all over. The fact that he’s so nonchalant about the matter bothers you. “Are you mad at me still?” you ask, wondering if some lingering animosity might explain his indifference.

Bradley looks down at his feet and then over at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wasn’t mad at you.”

You chuckle wryly. “Okay.”

Bradley stops walking so you come to a halt as well. “Are you mad at me?”

You shrug, not entirely sure how you feel.

Bradley purses his lips, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He watches you for a few moments before speaking. “For the record, I wasn’t interrogating your sister,” he says. “She offered that information.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the wooden planks of the boardwalk, the distance between you and him like a barrier neither of you is willing to cross. The tension in your midst isn’t the sexy kind. It’s cold and quiet, as if you are each too stubborn to engage in polite conversation. “Yeah,” you respond glumly.

Bradley is watching you carefully, probably trying to decipher the one-word response you just gave. He looks like he might want to add to the discussion but, after another several seconds of silence, he seems to change his mind. He turns and starts to walk again. “Come on,” he says, going ahead. “Before you freeze.”

“You kind of bailed on me,” you say quietly, trailing behind him.

Bradley slows his pace, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“You started grilling me about my whereabouts this morning” –

“I was grilling you?” Bradley rounds on you.

“It was the worst possible time to have that conversation.”

Bradley scoffs. “So, according to you, I’m just going around interrogating everyone.”

You glare at him as he shakes his head. “And then you just walked away all pissed off like I was the one who offended you,” you continue despite the obvious resentment on his face.

“You did offend me!” he yells.

“You could’ve just told me that you didn’t ask her.”

Bradley watches you steadily. “I shouldn’t have had to. Do you really think that I would?”

Your teeth graze your lip as you lower your head so you wouldn’t have to contend with the intensity of his gaze. “I get that I ticked you off, but, well” – you sigh – “never mind.”

“What?” he asks, stepping into your path when you start to walk again.

“I said, ‘never mind’,” you respond impatiently, trying to walk around him.

He holds his hand out to stop you. “Tell me,” he says, his fingers closing around your arm.

You bite into the inside of your cheek. “I was counting on you,” you mutter, not looking at his face. “I mean, you came back, which I appreciate,” you add. “But, that entire first half of the evening kind of sucked,” you say, staring at the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt. His neck is smooth and strangely attractive, and you start to wonder bitterly if there is any part of Bradley Bradshaw that you might consider simply mediocre.

His hand slips down the sleeve of his jacket over your arm, stopping to close around the tips of your fingers. “Your hand is freezing,” he says.

“Well, it’s fucking cold,” you retort.

Bradley snorts, but you’re still avoiding his gaze. He takes your other hand so that he could cup both your hands in his. You stare at his long fingers wrapped around your fists, detesting that every single thing he does makes you fall deeper and harder. But soon, the heat from his hands is soothing your tense muscles enough that you even take a slim step forward out of sheer necessity for warmth. Bradley’s hands tighten around yours, his eyes looking you up and down a couple of times.

After another few seconds of silence, he motions with a nod that the two of you should continue your trek to the chalet. Mutely, you bob your head in agreement. Bradley steps to the side, allowing you to move ahead while he places a hand on your back. His touch is so subtle, you can hardly feel it through the wool-blend of his suit jacket.

The rest of your walk is fairly uneventful. Neither of you says much, and Bradley keeps his distance, except when he reaches over to grab your arm, preventing you from stepping on a broken plank.

When you arrive at your door and Bradley slides his key into the lock, he pauses briefly, turning his head slightly without looking at you directly. “I shouldn’t have left you,” he says.

You watch him hesitate with the lock for a moment and you finally shrug in response. “I may have overreacted.”

He raises his eyebrows and glances at you with a smirk. “No,” he says.

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm, giving him a playful punch with a loosely formed fist. “I’ve had a stressful weekend, okay?”

He narrows his eyes skeptically. “Have you?”

You meet his gaze as he holds the door open for you. “It’s been dreadful,” you say with a hint of irony because Bradley will assume you’re joking but, really, pretending not to have feelings for your friend has been thoroughly dreadful indeed.

You bend down to take your shoes off as Bradley shuts the door. “Need some help with those?” he asks with a small grin as you go to remove them.

You chuckle lightly, reaching out to grasp his forearm for stability as you unclasp the straps. You step out of your heels and look up at his face. “You’re so absurdly tall,” you say.

Bradley laughs, the forearm you’re still holding flexing as his fingers graze your elbow. “Is that a deal breaker?” he asks.

Your breath nearly trips on the exhale as his eyes sweep over your face. He takes a step forward, his body now close enough that you can feel his pant leg brush against your knee. You let out a nervous laugh, unsure how else to respond to a question that sounds an awful lot like flirting. “Come to think of it, talking to you is kind of giving me a neck cramp,” you respond lightly as you shrug off his jacket.

He grins at you as you sidestep him to get to the clothes tree. “Let’s not talk, then?” he suggests.

You chuckle as you hang up his jacket, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “Let’s not,” you say.

“Good,” he says, slipping off his dress shoes after loosening the laces. “Tired of all your yammering.”

You snort trying to hold in a laugh. “Can’t stand the sound of your voice,” you add.

“Ugh,” Bradley groans. “So annoying.”

You purse your lips as your smile widens and Bradley chuckles, eyeing you mischievously.

“C’mere, you big dork,” he says, holding his arm out.

You lower your gaze, still grinning as you tuck your head into his shoulder. Bradley wraps his arm around you, giving you a couple of affectionate squeezes. “Am I actually annoying?” you ask, fully aware that Bradley was only teasing. Perhaps you’re just fishing for a compliment.

“Oh, very,” Bradley responds as the two of you make your way into the center of the room. “What is the superlative of annoying?”

“Most annoying?”

“Yep, that’s you.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Bet you can’t wait to be rid of me after this weekend,” you say, half-jokingly.

“About that,” Bradley says, lifting his arm off your shoulder. You detach yourself from him and look up questioningly. “Your aunt sort of invited me to Thanksgiving.”

You stare at him in shock. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘why not?’” Bradley shrugs. You blink at him mutely, so he adds, “That’s okay, right? I mean, I figured you’ll need to keep up appearances.”

“What if I have a real boyfriend by Thanksgiving?” you blurt out without thinking.

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well, then problem solved, right?” he says.

You meet his gaze, but you can’t seem to read him. “Right,” you agree awkwardly.

He nods and, after finally looking away, he starts for the bathroom. Once he’s gone, you close your eyes and plop onto the bed with a whimper, rolling over onto your stomach to bury your face into the pillow. You want to scream because Bradley Bradshaw is so perfect, it hurts. How, how have you never noticed the sexy grit of his voice, or the seductive quirk of his mouth, or his fucking height? You imagine being cradled in his arms, soothed by the warmth of his chest, tucked away from the big, bad world.

You rest your cheek over the cotton pillowcase musingly, slipping your hand under your head. After your kiss this evening, you were hoping – like an idiot – that Bradley might want an actual relationship with you. Instead, he’s agreed to yet another family event as your pretend boyfriend, which is probably the best outcome you could hope for. Oddly enough, however, you’re not thrilled at the prospect. Perhaps you’ve had enough of faking not being attracted to Bradley Bradshaw.

“Are you going to sleep in your dress?”

You turn your head to see Bradley leaning into the frame of the bathroom door, his dress shirt undone. He’s got a comb in his hand which he runs through his hair as he watches you with a couple of raised eyebrows. “Just waiting for the bathroom,” you respond.

Bradley steps out and gestures for you to go ahead, so you lift yourself off the bed, dragging your pjs out from under your pillow. You feel his eyes follow you into the bathroom, but you refrain from turning back to look at him.

You stuff your pjs into a dry corner of the vanity, noticing Bradley’s toiletry kit sitting open by the sink. You peer inside it curiously, not sure why you find his toothbrush, razor, and aftershave particularly interesting. You turn on the tap with a sigh. Apparently, you find everything about Bradley Bradshaw interesting, right down to his favorite brand of floss.

After you’ve finished washing your face and removing about a hundred bobby pins from your hair, you change into your pajamas and glance at yourself in the mirror with a nervous expression. Interacting with Bradley is becoming more of a chore by the minute, and you are so ready for this weekend to be over. You run your hand through the soft waves in your hair that are the result of a daylong updo and then reach for the doorknob.

You walk out to find that Bradley is already in bed, or rather, lying on top of the quilt. You hang up your dress and turn toward him. Bradley lifts his head off the pillow, watching you walk over.

“What’s up?” you ask.

Bradley smiles at you. “Your hair looks awesome.”

You chuckle. “It’s such a mess.”

“It looks good, Y/N,” he says, propping himself up onto his elbow. You try to avoid fixating on the width of his bare shoulders, not to mention the rise and fall of his slightly sunburnt chest. You look at his face instead because, for some reason, you think this might be a safer alternative. You’re wrong.

Bradley’s mouth is curled up in a small smile as he watches you pat at the curls in your hair and this subtle manifestation of his affection for you sends your heart racing more than the sight of his shirtless body ever could. “I’ll get the light,” you say, changing the subject.

On your way to the light switch, you flip your hair a couple of times, wondering if Bradley is watching your back as you walk away. Naturally, you don’t dare check. You flick the switch near the door, taking advantage of the darkness to lean your head into the wall and gather the strength to spend another night sharing a bed with Bradley Bradshaw, who is so sexy you could die. Who kisses like a fucking dream. Who –

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, turning around to face the inky darkness of the pitch-black room. “Uh,” you respond hesitantly, wavering on the spot. “How the fuck did you do this?”

You hear some movement at the far end of the room.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” you say as the bed creaks.

Bradley chuckles in response and you hear his footsteps as he walks around the bed and across the room. “Here,” he says, sounding much closer than you’d have expected him to be in such short a time. “Take my hand.”

You reach out tentatively, waving your arm around until his fingers close around your wrist.

“Can you not see anything?” he asks with amusement, pulling you closer so that he can guide you.

“Absolutely nothing,” you say as his palm lands casually on your hip, steering you toward the bed. You lift your hand to feel around in front of you, but, of fucking course, your hand finds Bradley’s bare abdomen instead of the dresser you’re trying to locate. His muscles contract under your touch and you withdraw your hand immediately in a wild panic.

“This way,” Bradley mutters, taking a small step toward you as he directs you away from whatever obstacle you’ve nearly walked into.

“Okay,” you respond breathlessly as his body presses into yours, his glorious abs once again finding the tips of your fingers. You give yourself an extra second to lightly trace the ripples of his impressive six-pack before letting your hand fall.

But Bradley catches it just as your fingers slip away, his breathing quickening as his face hovers over yours in the darkness. Slowly and ever so lightly, his hand glides up your arm. Meanwhile, you feel the eruption of every nerve ending along its route as though his touch is setting off a series of fireworks. “You okay?” he asks so quietly that his voice is more rasp than tone.

“Mm-hm,” you affirm, your mind whirring as you attempt to rationalize Bradley’s hand that’s now caressing your shoulder. Your fingers are still lingering on his stomach when he takes another step forward.

“Cold?” he asks, his breath on your cheek.

“Mm-hm,” you repeat, completely lost for words as his pelvis brushes against you. The way Bradley is handling your body is excessive if his only intention is to help you fumble your way to the bed in the darkness. The way he’s stepping closer and closer despite clearly being more than close enough to guide you is indicative of an ulterior motive.

“Tired of talking yet?” he mutters, the tip of his nose sweeping across your cheek.

You let out a weak chuckle, your body on fire from the way he’s holding you. From the way he’s speaking. From the way his thumb coasts over your collarbone as his hand drifts up the back of your neck. His body sinks slightly as he ducks his head to catch your lips in a kiss.

You feel the collapse of tension between the two of you like it was a physical wall, replaced all at once by an acute, chaotic desire. Bradley moves further into your space as you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck. His body crashes into yours with enough force to drive you backward.

You stumble haphazardly over the scattered shoes that you don’t remember leaving all over the floor. Bradley is kicking bags and purses out of the way, his grip tightening around your waist as the two of you accelerate toward the bed.

Everything about Bradley’s demeanor feels urgent, as though, now that he’s started, he can’t stop. And, somehow, this complete disintegration of his restraint is intoxicating. His hands are all over your body; your hair, your hips, your back. His lips are smooth, but the kiss is rough in the best way possible.

You crash into the bed and Bradley’s tongue curls into your mouth as you gasp. You feel his hands close around your thighs, lifting you off the ground. When you’re in his arms, you bring your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you kiss him. He runs his tongue along your lips, giving you several softer kisses, his thumbs stroking the tender skin under the hem of your pajama shorts as his grip on your legs tightens.

You wind your legs around his hips, subtly driving your pelvis forward. In response, Bradley releases a fevered breath, his mouth travelling down to your neck, infusing fiery kisses into your jaw along the way. When you let out a soft moan, he lowers you onto the bed, sighing heavily as he climbs over top of you. His lips skim the fraction of your exposed skin just above the band of your shorts, his mouth moving slowly over top of your shirt up your stomach and along your ribs. He kisses your neck, your chin, the tip of your nose, and finally, he gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

Then, he collapses into the bed beside you, and you’re left panting into the darkness, your brain scrambling to interpret what the fuck just happened. But neither of you seems to be able to speak. You turn your head in his direction, wondering what’s on his mind. Of course, you can’t just ask him. That would be absurd.

“Um,” you say quietly. “Thanks for your help?”

Bradley lets out a laugh. “Anytime.”

You reach up to the side of your neck where Bradley left a particularly searing kiss, your fingers grazing over the tender patch of skin as your breathing slows. So, Bradley Bradshaw liked your fake kiss. Why else would he initiate a real one?

After what seems like a solid minute of silence, you lift yourself up to move over to your pillow and you hear Bradley shuffling to do the same. You lift the blanket and slip underneath it, shivering against the cool sheet. You close your eyes, thinking of something else to say. Obviously, you can’t just go to sleep after that.

Apparently, Bradley Bradshaw is of the same opinion. You feel his hand slide over your stomach and your eyes fly open. You turn your body in his direction as he shifts closer, his fingers curling gently around the dip in your waist.

“You still okay?” he asks.

“Mm-hm,” you nod, chewing on your lip as you slide a touch closer to him.

Bradley’s hand glides along the curve from your waist to your hip and back again. “Still cold?” he says quietly, his lips moving over the tip of your nose.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your fingertips drifting over his abdomen.

“Y/N,” he whispers as his hand sinks deeper into your waist, pulling you closer.

“Bradley,” you gasp breathlessly, placing your palm over his chest.

He seems to sense your hesitation because he says, “I think we might need that pillow wall tonight, YN.” He sighs forcefully, his hold on you tightening briefly before he releases his grip and rolls onto his back with a groan. You assume that he’s running his hands over his face because of the muffled sounds he’s making.

You’re buzzing from the desperation in his tone, as if knowing that he’s frustrated and wanting you is enough to get you through the night. Surely, he didn’t think sleeping with you would be that easy. Besides, there’s no way anything is happening while the two of you continue this charade of dancing around the truth. “I could go sleep on the couch,” you offer lightheartedly.

In response to this jest, Bradley wraps his arm around you, his enormous bicep completely enclosing your face as he pulls you into his chest. You place your arm over his side, your fingers drawing swirls into his back as you lean into his neck. You feel his hand on the back of your head, playing gently with your hair as he presses a kiss to the top of it.

…

You wake to the sound of knocking on your door. You turn to find that Bradley isn’t in bed, so you assume he’s gone out to get breakfast and is now trying to get back inside with his hands full. You slip out of the bed and head for the door, noting the path of destruction last night’s make out session has left in its wake. There are shoes everywhere.

You chuckle lightly and pull open the door. When you see Steven on the other side, you blink at him in confusion, your mouth slightly agape.

“Y/N,” he says, putting his hand over the door before you can close it in his face. He steps inside.

“N-no,” you manage to say. “You need to leave.”

Steven glances at the mess in your room with furrowed eyebrows just as you realize that the shower is on in the bathroom. You groan at your oversight. “I just want to talk,” Steven says, watching you desperately. “Please.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” You gulp when you hear the shower turn off.

Steven steps closer. “Baby, we’ve been through so much, can’t you at least give me five minutes?”

You shake your head. “We’ve already said everything we needed to say.”

“No,” he whispers, taking your hand in his. “Trust me,” he says. “You’re going to want to hear this.”

You stare at him mutely as the bathroom door opens and Bradley walks out shirtless, a towel hanging off his hips. His body is still glistening with moisture. “What’s going on here?” he asks, tossing aside his hairbrush as he makes his way toward you and Steven.

You rip your hand out of Steven’s grasp and take a step back with a sharp intake of breath. Steven is watching you without flinching as Bradley approaches. “Five minutes,” he presses.

You marvel at his audacity as Bradley comes up behind you, winding his arm around you to place a hand over your midriff. He tugs you backward.

Steven ignores him. “Please.”

You feel Bradley’s arm tense around your body. “I think it’s time for you to go, Steven,” he says darkly.

But Steven’s doleful expression pulls at your heartstrings and you lay your hand over Bradley’s on your stomach, peeling his fingers away. Bradley takes a hold of your arm as you turn toward him, searching your face probingly. “I’ll be five minutes,” you say.

Bradley stares at you incredulously. “Are you serious?”

You sigh audibly, turning to Steven. “Can you wait for me outside?”

Steven nods and steps out, closing the door behind himself. You glance back at Bradley, who’s watching you tensely.

“We dated for years, Bradley. I owe it to him – and to myself – to hear him out.”

Bradley scoffs, shaking his head. “All I’m hearing is that he’s wasted enough of your time.”

“This is the last time I’m ever going to see him. I can’t say no.”

Bradley sighs resignedly, watching you grimly. “You’re too good,” he says.

You lift your eyebrows at him. “Hardly.”

He nods. “You are. And he’s taking advantage of it.”

You stare at him for a moment, taken aback by the earnestness of his tone. “It’ll be okay,” you say finally, walking around him to grab a change of clothes and head into the bathroom. When you come back out, he glances up at you, eyeing your sundress with a small, wistful smirk. His gaze slips down to your legs and then back up to your face.

“Man, I almost feel sorry for the guy,” he says.

“What? Why?” you ask.

“Because if this is how you look the last time he sees you, he’ll never fucking get over you.”

You glance down at yourself with a giggle. “You like my dress, then?”

Bradley chuckles, walking over to you. “Please be careful,” he says. “I don’t trust this guy.” You nod as he pulls you into an embrace. “And yes,” he adds, his hands squeezing your shoulders as he breathes out steadily into the top of your head. “I like the dress.”

You give him a tight smile before heading for the door.

“Y/N,” he calls as you’re about to open it. You turn back just as he appears behind you and dips his head down to give you a parting kiss. This one is soft, and fluid, and slow. You sink into him as his tongue slides delicately into your mouth, his touch along your back disarming. The languid pace of his lips is torturous. The gentle pull on your bottom lip with his teeth draws a moan out of you and you all but forget where you are, let alone where you were planning on going. “Just so you know,” he says, his forehead meeting yours as you crane your neck to cling to his lips for a moment longer. “If he tries anything, I’m going to murder him.”

Read Part VIII

Tag List:

The rest of the tag list is in the comments! Might take a while because I can only tag 5 at a time. If I don't get to you, I'm sorry!

XOXO

@lonelywitchv2

@fanboyluvr

@marrianena

@anotherr-fine-mess

@mrs-obrien

@living-in-my-imagination88

@kindablackenedsuperhero

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@whisperofsong

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genericpuff · 1 month

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This is kinda of random but why is Hecate short? I'm just curious because out of all the bad things in LO I liked how tall Hecate is and how she wore suits. ( she does look stunning in your version too )

I've found when it comes to character heights, it's really hard to discern what the actual intention was in their designs as Rachel's statements often contradict the actual appearance of the characters in the comic and how they compare to one another. For example, some people have stated Rachel revealed in her Patreon chit chat posts (or in FB groups, don't remember which) that Hades was unique for his height, being as tall as 10 feet, but as we see him in the comic, he's often closer to being 10 feet wide than 10 feet tall LOL (I don't think Rachel realized how big ten feet was when she said that tbh)

So in that regard, from a design POV it's hard to gauge if Hecate is actually that tall, or if she just appears tall because she's sometimes drawn at shoulder height with Hades (doesn't help that the character designs are always fluctuating), but also it's hard to say if one can be considered "tall" when standing next to Persephone who we know Rachel always draws disproportionately tiny compared to everyone else, to the point of outright infantilizing her.

TL ; DR: I had to pick a lane with the character designs and Hecate seemed more like she would realistically be closer to Persephone's height than to Hades (if Hades is someone who's supposed to be uniquely tall which I'm definitely trying to make him, he's meant to be a little over 6 feet tall in LR). And even Persephone's height is still around 5"5-5"7, so they're not even that "short", they just often appear shorter in relation to Hades. At least, that's the approach I'm going for lmaoo (my standard marker for it is that Persephone comes up to his chest / collarbone area).

Plus - though this is just my personal opinion - it's also just nice to have more characters around Persephone's height, not only to showcase how much taller Hades is compared to most people around him, but also to make her a little less singled out in the height department, as LO often made her absurdly small to the point of infantilizing her (￢_￢;)

That said, Artemis is taller than Persephone coming in around 5"9, and Aphrodite is meant to be quite tall (p much the same height as Hades!) and we'll be seeing more of her later on in the story, so fear not, there are tall girls to be found :'3 <3

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled ama

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drvirgus · 1 month

Text

Protecting (my heart)

Idol! Minji X bodyguard! Reader

Description: getting a new job as NewJeans bodyguard isn't really something Y/n thought would happen to her. What exactly happens when she suddenly felt attracted to one of the NewJeans members? Can Y/n stay professional or are her feelings for Minji too much to handle?

Warnings: stalking; harassment; kys jokes; suggestive language; death threats; mention of abuse; mention of murder;

Chapter: I’m waiting (half-written)

Masterlist

———————————————————————————

Smiling, I looked at Hanni as I held the tongs in my hand. The smell of grilled meat wafted under my nose as I patiently waited. Hanni had her drink in hand and was telling one of her stories, which brought a smile to my face.

Chuckling, I turned the meat over to cook the other side. Beside me, Minji nodded, also giving Hanni her full attention, a small smile on her lips. As individual pieces of meat were ready, I placed them on Hanni's and Minji's plates. Both of them immediately thanked me as I put more meat on the grill.

I watched as Hanni and Minji ate, which made me smile. "We shouldn't eat too much," Hanni sighed. "I heard some complaints about us gaining weight," she explained when she noticed my questioning gaze.

I looked a bit more serious and rolled my eyes. "Eat as much as you want. Screw what others think," I said, taking a deep breath. My jaw was slightly tense. "You both. All of you have perfect figures," I said, narrowing my eyes slightly. "So don't force yourselves and just live. That's how life is more fun," I added, laughing lightly, which Minji immediately agreed with.

So I kept putting meat on their plates until Minji leaned closer to me. "You eat too," she said, holding out the salad with kimchi and meat to me. I smiled and opened my mouth, allowing Minji to feed me.

I smiled, which made Minji smile too. Hanni watched the whole thing and started giggling as she filled our shot glasses with soju. She raised her glass, and we followed suit, clinking our glasses together before downing the drinks.

My eyes scanned the empty store. Unfortunately, it had to be this way. After all, I was here with two very famous idols. "By the way, I'm leaving for two days tomorrow," Minji said, looking at me.

"At what time? I'll drive you," I immediately replied. Hanni chuckled when she noticed how familiar Minji and I already were with each other. She seemed to be watching us closely, but I didn't really notice.

Minji smiled at me immediately as she sighed. Her head rested on my shoulder. "The flight is at 10," she said, and I nodded immediately. I hummed a little as I continued to check the meat and turned it. "Then I'll pick you up around 7? We could have breakfast before you fly," I said, and Minji lifted her head from my shoulder with a wide smile on her lips as she nodded eagerly.

I smiled and nodded back. Now I set the tongs aside. "I'll just go to the bathroom for a moment," I said, looking at Minji and then Hanni before I stood up and made my way to the restroom.

Unaware of the conversation Hanni and Minji were having, which I naturally wasn't supposed to know about, I returned to the table with still slightly damp hands that I shook off along the way. Unfortunately, I noticed two tall, visibly drunk men standing at the table, apparently conversing with the two idols.

With a furrowed brow, I approached the table. My eyes immediately scanned the two men as I scrutinized them for any signs of a camera, phone, or even a weapon.

"I'm sorry. This is a private event," I said, putting on a friendly smile and drawing the attention of the men towards me.

I was an idiot for forgetting to lock the door...

"Why though? It's boring just being with three people," one of the men said, and the slightly shorter one nodded with a grin on his face. The smaller one, who was still taller than all of us, leaned towards me.

"Let us join. I promise we'll have a lot of fun," he said, his breath smelling of alcohol, which immediately gave me an uncomfortable feeling. I sighed, but I stood my ground. "Please leave the premises," I reiterated, this time with an even more serious tone and no smile on my face.

The drunk friend just chuckled as he suddenly grabbed Hanni's arm. With a quick movement, I grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, my other hand on his shoulder.

He screamed in pain, "Damn bitch, let me go!" he demanded, but I simply dragged him towards the door, his smaller friend watching with his mouth hanging open.

With a shove, I threw the man out of the store. I could see him rubbing his wrist in pain. "I could easily beat you up," he threatened me, but he didn't move an inch.

I ignored him and turned to his drunk friend. "Are you leaving voluntarily, or do I have to do the same with you?" I asked calmly, causing him to nervously smile. As he walked away, he bowed repeatedly to the idols and me. "I've only had my arm broken recently. I don't want any trouble," he slurred as he voluntarily left the store.

"Damn. That slut lied," I heard one of the drunk men mutter as I simply closed and locked the door. With a sigh, I returned to the table where Minji and Hanni were looking at me with wide eyes.

I cleared my throat as I settled properly into my seat, my eyes focused on Hanni. "Did he hurt you?" I asked, visibly concerned, but Hanni shook her head in response. Annoyed, I sighed again. "I'm sorry. That was my mistake. I forgot to lock the door," I explained, but neither of them reacted.

Questioningly, I looked first at Hanni and then at Minji. "What's wrong?" I asked casually as I took the tongs once again and placed new meat on the grill. The sizzling sound could be heard clearly throughout the room.

"How can you be so casual about it? You just kicked them out without any problem," Hanni said, leaning forward slightly with her mouth open. I laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Well, I'm not your bodyguard for nothing," I replied with a smile, feeling my cheeks flush slightly. Hanni laughed in response, which made Minji laugh too.

Surprised by the loud sound Minji made, I raised my eyebrows and looked at her. Hanni refilled our glasses again. "That's how she always laughs," Hanni said. My eyes still on Minji as I simply smiled. I could feel my face relaxing completely.

My heartbeat quickened.

#newjeans minji #newjeans hanni #hanni pham #newjeans #danielle #haerin #newjeans hyein #minji x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans smau

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anarchy-and-piglins · 8 days

Text

After a mere half hour spent in the same room as these people, Philza has already been reminded of why he doesn't normally answer a summons.

The constant staring annoys him to no end. He supposes it's to be expected, what with his country's reputation for being a complete enigma. The Antarctic Empire is one of the lucky few nations that operates entirely self-sufficiently, producing all their own resources. They do not trade with other countries often. In fact, the mountain ranges that border the very south of their peninsula do not offer any convenient trading routes to begin with. And since that same treacherous terrain also cuts the empire off from the continent in such a way that passing through becomes a challenge in wilderness survival, they're mostly left to their devices. Some folks still believe Phil's nation is a myth, a story conjured up by fairytales.

So Phil coming all the way out here for Dante's attempt at diplomacy must be quite the sight. Most people will die without ever having seen the king of the Antarctic Empire, no wonder they have a hard time looking away.

That won't stop Phil from getting some satisfaction every time one of these pompous nobles cowers if he so much as flexes his wings and turns toward them. He's currently locked in a bit of a staring contest with a man across the room. Phil doesn't know if he's another royal or random noble, but he does know he can't stand the look on this fucking guy's face.

At one point the man smiles more broadly, as if pleased that Phil caught him staring. He bows his head a bit, with Phil half-heartedly returning the courtesy, tucking in his wings to keep them from flaring automatically with the gesture. However, this leaves Phil's elbow to bump into somebody trying to slide past him.

Phil didn't expect anybody to be there, the entire crowd had been giving him a pretty wide berth all evening. He's even more surprised when he sees it's a child, maybe ten or eleven years old. His fancy clothes and intricately braided pink hair with golden jewelry betray him as a prince.

"Sorry," Phil says. He reaches out to steady the boy, but the kid flinches and steps back at his attempted touch, pulling his sleeves up over his wrists. "I didn't see you there, are you okay?"

The boy looks up at him and instead of answering, his blue eyes widen a bit. "You're the emperor of the Antarctic Empire," he says. The statement is delivered in a deceptively neutral tone, especially for somebody of such a young age. Phil is used to more dramatic reactions.

"I am. Call me Phil. What's your name?" Phil smiles gently at the boy. He always had a soft spot for children.

Again, he doesn't receive an answer. Instead, the boy's gaze moves across him for a moment, pondering. He grins slightly, but it's a strange sort of expression. Almost private. As if nobody else is supposed to see. "You're shorter than I thought you'd be," the boy says. Before Phil can blink or respond, he's disappeared into the crowd.

Phil is very much left completely flabbergasted.

Curiosity ever the greatest motivator for him, Phil walks up to the man who was staring at him earlier. The guy pales three shades at seeing Phil approach him, maybe thinking his rude behavior is getting retribution after all. But Phil couldn't care less about this man anymore.

He wants to know who the boy is.

"The child I was just talking to, do you know who he is?" Phil asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Who- Oh, he's nobody, sir." The way the man blunders and becomes overly formal brings Phil little pleasure. "Prince Techno. From the Blade family."

"From the Blade family? What is he doing so far away from home?"

"He's King Dante's ward."

Phil glances over to where the man is looking, in the direction of Dante himself. Techno is standing next to the king, head bowed a bit and seeming pretty disgruntled to be there. But when Dante lays his hand almost delicately on the nape of Techno's neck, the boy flinches again and forces a neutral expression on his face.

"You know how the Blade family is," the man says grimly. "Ferocious beasts of war, all of them. It's a wonder Dante has managed to secure an allyship. They even got close enough bonds to leave their son in Dante's care."

Thinking about the summons, about how Dante was a nobody three years ago who since managed to overthrow several small countries by using superior weapons and strategies - those the likes of which only the Blade nation is known for - makes several things click into place. Allyship? It makes sense. A lot of sense.

Then what is the uncomfortable feeling that seems hooked into Phil's gut?

(Maybe it's because of the flinching. Or because of how Techno seems to move around like a ghost. Or because when he pulled up his sleeves, Phil was sure he saw the faded blue and purple of bruises on the boy's pale skin.

The Blade family runs their kingdom in a similar way to the Antarctic Empire. They don't make allies. Only enemies.)

"Are you staying for the peace conference, sir?" the man is brave enough to ask, now that Phil has broken the ice. It's probably a question for many of them. Despite Dante's ruthless way of overtaking other countries, Phil's empire isn't threatened by him. He's only here as a formality. He has no reason to stay, no stakes in this game.

Dante pulls his hand away and it's like Techno can finally breathe again. Phil's eyes meet his for a moment, then the boy looks away.

"I think I'll stick around to see how things unfold," Phil says pleasantly.

#Philza #Technoblade #shara writes #I have no name for the AU but I'll post the info later

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brigdh · 7 months

Text

Okay. My thoughts on the Our Flag Means Death finale. Obviously I'm not very happy with the ending, though I'm also not as upset as some people are. I would say I'm discontent. Unsatisfied. Too aware of how it could have been improved, and a bit bitter that we didn't get a better version, but I also don't hate what we did get.

I know a lot of meta has attributed the problems to a shorter season, and absolutely I would have loved to get 10 episodes instead. I would have loved 22 episodes! Why don't we do that anymore? But I don't think the 8 episode length was the ultimate problem. A) The showrunner and writers knew they had only 8 episodes, so they needed to choose a story that fit into that length, but even more importantly, B) my problem is not that they had too much story for too little time, but actually that they had plenty of time and chose to fill it with too little story.

As I've sat with it over the last few days and thought more about the season's arc, it feels to me like we got eight episodes of filler. Filler episodes can be great! Filler episodes can have some of the funniest lines, the greatest scenes, the most intriguing ideas. But filler episodes do not progress character arcs or major themes, and that's exactly the problem this season had.

The only characters who got arcs this season are Izzy, and to a lesser and more rushed extent, Lucius. Which sure is a choice.

Ed and Stede and their relationship did not meaningfully change from S1. (Okay, yes, they had sex, they said I Love You – but these are external changes, not internal. They don't represent character growth. Stede realized he loved Ed and was telling everyone back in 1x10. Ed clearly would have slept with him in S1 if they'd had a little more time.) Ed and Stede in 2x08 are not different from who they are in 2x01. If Ed had asked Stede to be innkeepers in 2x01, does anyone think Stede wouldn't have immediately agreed? One of the big moments in 2x08 is Ed reading a letter that Stede wrote in 2x01! Stede's exact words from the very beginning of the season! What better way to underline that none of the subsequent seven episodes had important growth or changes?

Another one of 2x08's big shippy moments is Ed and Stede running to each other across a beach – deliberately paralleling the dream Stede had in 2x01. What are we supposed to take from this parallel? My original thought was that we're supposed to see how different the real version is from the dream, but there's honestly not many differences. Neither one has a beard, now? The dream mocked how Stede knew they needed to have a conversation about their relationship that he wanted to avoid, but they don't have a conversation in the "real" version either. They exchange about two sentences (which includes Ed's I Love You, yes, which is a big deal but still isn't a conversation) and then they charge right back into the fight, without discussing anything like Ed abruptly dumping Stede to go be a fisherman, Stede killing Ned Low when Ed asked him not to, their differences of opinion on being pirates, if having sex was a mistake or if that's only a thing Ed said because he was panicking, etc etc. They have just as many issues to address as they did in the dream, but just like the dream they act like everything is magically okay without talking about it!

So I think we're meant to take the beach-run parallels as "here's what Stede's been wanting, and after waiting for so long he finally gets it". Which is fine, a very sweet take-away for a finale. But it underlines what I'm saying is the problem of the season: Stede has just been waiting for eight episodes for his dream to come true. Not changing. Not growing. Not doing anything to bring the dream about, other than trying to get himself and Ed into the same physical location. Just... waiting.

This is an extra surprising development, because the show was really good at giving Ed and Stede character arcs in S1! Ed and Stede in 1x10 are significantly different than they were in their first introductions. Also, just to preempt some criticism, by 'progressing' I do not mean 'wrap up literally every loose end and make a firm final ending' – S1's finale is an excellent example of both moving the characters forward and leaving a ton of room for future stories. I wasn't expecting for 2x08 to show us a Stede and Ed who were perfectly on the same page and would never again have a problem. I was expecting them to be somewhat different than they were in 2x01, and I just don't see that.

Instead of arcs, we got little pieces of single-episode growth here and there that never added up to an overall whole. The season brought up a ton of potential arcs for Ed – violence, piracy, guilt, suicide, daddy issues, self-loathing, apologies, redemption, his tendency to idealize escaping into a different life – but didn't do anything with any of these options. Stede had nothing resembling a season arc at all.

Stede works to improve as a captain! Stede kills someone and has regrets! Stede confronts Ed's dark side! <- All potential arcs, but none of which lasted for more than an episode or had consequences. We don't even know what the ending means for Stede: does he want to be an innkeeper because he failed as a pirate in 2x07? Because piracy was always just a displaced search for love, and now that he has love, he doesn't need piracy? What does the crew of the Revenge leaving mean to him? Stede's understanding of their new arrangement literally happens off-screen and we're left to fumble at guesses for its significance to him as an individual.

Ed and Stede's last big conversation in the season is their break-up fight in 2x07, which is a shocking way to send off your main couple in a rom-com. Yes, there's the I Love You on the beach (again: two sentences) and the brief 'let's try to be innkeepers' conversation at the very end, but that's it for them in 2x08, except for their inclusion in some brief large group conversations about their fighting skills and the plan for escaping the British. How can you end your rom-com with the main couple exchanging only a paragraph's worth of dialogue in the finale? None of the stuff was brought up in the fishing fight in 2x07 is ever addressed at all!

Again, I don't think this is solely a matter of time crunch. Instead of using the eight episodes to progress the two main characters, we got a bunch of filler episodes that used the time in amusing side tangents instead of forward progress. I don't think that's the inevitable result of having to work with eight episodes.

Look, I can come up with a better Ed/Stede relationship arc without needing more episodes, and despite only thinking about this for a couple days and not having an entire writing room to work with:

(Note: this only addresses the Ed/Stede relationship. It doesn't fix Stede completely lacking an independent character arc and Ed having about ten thousand of them, none of which went anywhere.)

In 2x05 to 2x07, I would make Ed's motivations in their relationship very clearly that he's pushing Stede away so he doesn't get hurt again. Basically play up Ed's comment about "I was all in" in 2x04, and make him determined not to get 'all in' this time around. This aligns the "let's take it slow" conversation in 2x05, the "sex was a mistake" in 2x06, and Ed running away to be a fisherman in 2x07 into a single arc. He wants Stede, but he's afraid of what that wanting will do to him. He's trying to find a way to have a relationship without making himself vulnerable. He keeps pushing off commitment and openness.

Then, in 2x08, I'd make it more explicit that Ed thinks/fears Stede is dead when he sees the pirate ships burning. I think it's subtext in the episode as-is, but give him a line or two to make it really clear. Ed and Stede still see each other on the beach, have their dramatic run to each other, and Ed says, "I love you". Now this moment is Ed acknowledging his love, exactly what he's been avoiding for the last three episodes.

Near the end of the episode, Ed and Stede have a conversation where Ed says something like, "I didn't want to get hurt again, I was afraid of the risk of falling in love and you leaving again, but thinking you were dead made me realize that never loving you would be worse" (but better written, ha, this is a tumblr post that's already too long). (Also possibly you could tie in Izzy's death here to underline both Ed and Stede not wanting to lose another person they care about, if we must have that plot point for some reason.) We actually get to see Ed asking Stede to come be innkeepers with him, paralleling asking him to run away to China (and paralleling NOT asking Stede to a fisherman), Stede voices some of his worries (paralleling him keeping them inside in 1x09, but also giving him a chance to explain what piracy and love mean to him and why he'd give up one for the other), but ultimately they agree that they at least want to try.

This both puts them into a much clearer place for a happy ending, has clear growth from S1 and the beginning of this season, but also leaves open a ton of room for S3, because welp, it turns out trying to have a relationship entails all sorts of problems! Especially with these two. It also would make me feel like they'd at least addressed some of the issues between them.

Right now I feel like S3 will have to spend at least the first few episodes running through exactly the same "don't talk – break up – get back together dramatically" arc that Stede and Ed have already done twice but have never discussed and never learned from. I liked it, but I don't need to see it yet again. That will – ironically – feel like yet more wasted time, more episodes that are just churning through beats without moving the characters forward. I wanted them to have new, different fights in S3, but now I don't even feel like they've made enough progress to have a fresh set of problems.

#ofmd meta #our flag means death #ofmd 2x08 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd critical #(I guess)

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mint-yooxgi · 5 months

Text

Guardian - Yandere!Griffin!Jongho

Yandere AU & Griffin AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Jongho X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,557

Warnings: Possessive thoughts, violence - both implied and alluded to. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: This one's a lil shorter than the rest, but I think it gets the point across. He also turned out much more violent and possessive than I thought he would, but I think it suits his character here. I hope you'll look forward to the final one of these coming soon, too! As always, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

The Fifteenth of The Feral Drabbles

You should have listened to me. I told you not to walk home alone in the dark. And yet… here we are.

You know, you’re much more peaceful when you’re unconscious. You don’t have a chance to nag me all the time.

It’s not that I’m trying to be controlling. Not at all. I just worry, okay?

I know it might be difficult for you to understand, but I do worry about you. I’m not always going to be around to protect you like tonight. I’m just lucky I decided to follow after you, even after we said goodnight.

I could sense them. I knew you were being followed by more than just one of them, and I couldn’t let them take advantage of you. I don’t care if we had all been out in a group to start, their intentions after we said goodbye were impure!

I see the way others look at you when you’re not paying attention. Really, it’s quite obvious, but you act like you don’t notice. Of course they’d look. They’d all be stupid not to chance a glance at the stunning beauty that lays before them. I want them to look, but only when you’re with me. Look, but never touch.

I just wish they’d leave you alone.

Can’t they understand that you’re mine?

Fucking posers. I should gouge all their eyes out for what they tried to do to you tonight. Even just thinking about it makes my blood boil and my feathers ruffle. Knowing you, you’ll probably brush it all off once you wake up, making every excuse you can for those other guys. Only I know the truth, and I don’t care if you believe me or not.

No, they weren’t ‘being nice’ and walking you home, they expected something. They always expect something. No, they also weren’t ‘keeping an eye out’ for you. I do that. They were stalking you! I hear them always whispering about that one guy asking you out, and I couldn’t have that!

You understand, right? Why I had to split his head open like a watermelon? He could have taken you away from me, and I couldn’t have that. You mean too much to me…

Don’t worry, I’ll take you home. I’ll keep you safe. I’m the only one who can. The only one you should trust.

The moon is full tonight as the wind whips through my feathers. I thought taking you for a little flight would help soothe you after the trauma you’ve just endured. Despite you being unconscious, I feel like it’s helping. I’ve got you, and even in your sleep, you’ve got me. I will never let you fall, and besides, maybe if you wake up while we soar through the night sky, you’ll be less mad about what happened.

Not that you should be mad at all, but you always get upset at me when I stick up for you. Every time I step in when people make inappropriate comments, or I ‘accidentally’ trip someone that’s standing a little too close to you, you cuss me out. I can practically hear your voice in my head already yelling about how they were just being ‘friendly’.

‘Friendly’ my ass.

Good thing you’re asleep. That eye roll would have earned me a smack on my arm. Perhaps even a disappointed shake of your head, too.

You’re lucky I love you. I let you get away with so much shit I normally would never put up with. I suppose that’s what happens when you care about someone as much as I care about you…

I’ll never admit how much I enjoy it when you touch me, even when you playfully smack my arm, or the upside of my head. I’d rather receive one hundred- no, one thousand of those than see you even lay a finger on someone else that’s not me. If you thought I was violent tonight, you should see some of the corpses of the people who’ve touched you, especially without your permission. Certain people, like our close friends and your family, I can let slide. But nasty fuckers who think they have any sort of chance with you?

Never.

It’s pathetic how easily their flesh shreds beneath my claws. Honestly, I can’t believe any of them ever thought that they even had a chance with you. If they can’t save themselves, how are they ever going to protect you? Fucking pathetic, weak morsels that don’t deserve to even share the same air as you.

Of course, I’d never let you see that side of me. The one that’s covered in entrails and blood after disposing of the trash. You’d worry too much, and besides, I never want you to be scared of me. You have nothing to fear. Never from me. Not while I’m around. After all, everything I do, I do for you.

Really, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Say the word, even so much as imply you want something, and it’s yours. You are my one and only saving grace in this godforsaken world, and I will do everything in my power to see you smile. I will always be there to offer you a shoulder to cry on, and loving arms to embrace you when you need me.

Nothing is off limits. I just want to make you happy.

I will make you happy. I know I will. Yet, you seem to brush off my advances every chance you get. What will it take for you to see how completely and utterly devoted I am to you? I would burn down entire cities, level the highest of mountains to the ground to prove myself to you.

The impossible will become probable with me around. That’s my promise to you.

See! Even subconsciously you want to be close to me! Your grip just tightened on my back. You’re even nuzzling closer into my feathers!

…Either that, or you’re waking up.

Perhaps I should simply glide through the air now if that’s the case. Like I said, I don’t want to scare you.

Oh… it seems as though it was a false alarm. You’re still sleeping so soundly. As you should.

I’ve got you.

Are you dreaming of me? I always dream about you, so it’s only fair. I promised myself that I’d become the man of your dreams, but to think that might be literal is just… well, it only makes my affections for you grow. Let me protect you in your dreams just as well as I protect you in reality. Let my love wash over you so you feel it even when you’re away from me, deep within your own unconscious mind. Feel my devotion washing over you with every breath, and stay with me. Forevermore.

Perhaps now you’ll take me seriously. After you wake up, and calm down of course, I’ll tell you how I really feel. No more skirting around our feelings, and hoping you’ll understand why I do what I do. I need to be more forward, and finally tell you my everlasting love for you is real.

Thinking of it now… will you kiss me when I confess? Oh, gods… just thinking about the feel of your lips pressed against my own is making my head spin. Are they as soft as they look? Have you fantasized about mine as often as I’ve dreamt about yours? Do you also want my lips to caress every inch of your body when we’re alone? I swear nothing but the sweetest of praises will fall from my lips as I press them to your own, and all over your glorious body worthy of every piece of worship I plan to offer to you.

And worship you I shall.

There will be no part of you untouched by me. There is no part of you unloved by me. I plan to show you, to make you mine in every meaning of the sense, but only if you will allow me to do so. I only ever want to please you, to make you shake as you succumb to the deepest throws of pleasure, drowning you completely in ecstasy so you can no longer tell where you end and I begin.

I was made to love you, and you were made to be loved by me.

Let me feel your nails digging into my back. Mark up my thighs which I know you adore. It’s cute to see you turn away shyly every time I catch you staring and admiring me. Though, you shouldn’t be ashamed, I admire you, too. Every chance I can get.

I always hear you joking about finding someone who will completely ravage you. Someone who will make you scream their name until the early hours of the morning. Someone to love you until you can’t take it anymore, to focus completely on you and you alone.

Well, Darling, I’m right here. Ready and eager whenever you are. You wouldn’t even have to ask, for I would fall to my knees to please you. Every. Single. Time.

Once you wake up, I’ll take you home. I just hope someday that home will be with me. A place to call our own. Where I am yours, and you are mine.

As it should be.

As it will be.

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu net #yandere ateez #yandere jongho #ateez scenario #jongho scenario #ateez imagine #kpop au #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #yandere kpop #griffin au #chubby reader #ateez au

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rosetterer · 8 days

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How about Buck taking care of a sick or injured Tommy? 🥹

Hi anon! I didn't edit or even read through what I wrote so I hope it makes some kind of sense, lol. Also, apparently, my thought of a short little story is almost 2000 words so... here you go:

The last time Buck was at the hospital had for once been for a good reason: his sister’s wedding. The memory of getting to kiss Tommy in front of strangers without a care in the world was a good addition to the day that Buck definitely thought about every once in a while. Well, actually, Tommy, in one way or another, was constantly on his mind these days.

He just wished that he could’ve kept thinking about their dates that had happened, some better than others, and the ones that were to happen in the future. Instead, his mind was filled with worry, and yet, still Tommy.

He knew, better than anyone, that being the partner of a firefighter could be stressful. Not everyone could handle it.

And now, as he was rushing around the hallways, trying to find the room number he’d been told over the phone, he understood. He wasn’t sure if he could handle this.

”Wait, wait, wait,” a nurse, much shorter than him, stepped in between him and the door that Tommy was supposed to be behind.

”My boyfriend’s in there!” He huffed out, a little more loud and aggressive than he meant to sound.

”Are you Evan?” The nurse asked then, her voice softening.

”Yeah,” he breathed out.

”Well, go on in then. He’s been talking a lot about you,” the nurse said, now smiling, and opened the door for him.

They hadn’t told him details of what had happened but the words ’Tommy’, ’injured’ and ’hospital’ had made him panic and leave his shift early. But Tommy, apparently, was talking and as Buck stepped into the room, he could see that he was also sitting there, chatting with another nurse, and most importantly, he was still breathing.

”Tommy,” Buck gasped out his name and hurried to stand next to his bed.

His hands hovered over Tommy’s shoulders, his chest, and he didn’t know where he could touch him without hurting him. The nurse was placing some kind of bandage on his leg and there were bloodied tissues thrown off to the side.

”What happened? D- Did the helicopter go down?” Buck asked, hearing and feeling the way his voice trembled. ”Or we-were you on the ground? Did you-”

”Evan,” Tommy interrupted him, taking his hands into his. ”I’m okay.”

”You’re in a hospital,” Buck reminded him. ”Do you have a concussion? Do you-”

”Tell him that I’m alright, please,” Tommy asked the nurse, his voice a little raspy now that Buck really focused on it. There was some soot on his face.

”No concussion,” the nurse told him, standing up straight now that the bandage was on. ”But twelve stitches is no joke.”

”Twelve?” Buck asked, genuinely shocked. ”How-”

”Baby,” Tommy interrupted him once again. ”I promise I will tell you all about it once I’ve gotten some rest, alright? I’m exhausted.”

Right. He’d been on a 24-hour shift.

Buck tried his best to pull himself together and cleared his throat, ”Right. Right… Well, can we leave? You’re coming to stay at my place.”

”Evan, you don’t have to-”

”Actually, I’m coming over to your place. The loft has stairs and I doubt it’ll be easy for you to climb them with your leg like that,” Buck wondered out loud, completely ignoring Tommy’s reply to him. ”I don’t have a shift tomorrow and I doubt you’ll be going back to work for at least a few days or until those stitches come off, so-”

”Evan, I’m fine,” Tommy told him once more. ”You don’t have to worry about me.”

”I’ll go get your discharge papers,” the nurse commented quickly before Buck could reply and slipped out of the room.

”You are not fine,” Buck huffed out, sitting on the edge of the bed. ”And you don’t need to pretend like you are, babe. Injuries suck. I would know.”

”Yeah,” Tommy said with a dry chuckle. ”But I swear, it doesn’t hurt much and they told me that I’m allowed to walk normally as long as I’m careful, so I can take care of myself, you don’t have to-”

”I want to,” Buck whispered to him, finally daring to touch Tommy’s shoulder. ”I want to take care of you. I want to come home with you and I want to make sure you have everything you need. You scared me.”

That seemed to finally make Tommy speechless. He looked at Buck for a while and Buck desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking about but decided to wait instead.

”Okay,” Tommy said eventually.

”Okay,” Buck sighed, relieved.

”I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tommy continued then, resting their foreheads together.

Buck shook his head, ”Not your fault. This is what our job is like. As long as you just keep being as careful as possible, I’ll… I’ll be able to handle it.”

”Right back at you,” Tommy said with a small smile.

Buck pressed their lips together for a short moment.

Tommy was lying on his couch with his leg propped up by pillows that Buck had gathered from around the house. Buck had made a quick meal of the ingredients he’d found in Tommy’s fridge, which often was chicken and vegetables, and that was no different today.

And now, he was just staring.

Tommy had been napping on and off for the past three hours they had been at home. Buck kept his distance, not wanting to disturb his sleep any more than it seemed to be disturbed by his dreams already.

And it was only when he woke up with a gasp more violent than before, Buck finally rushed over to his side. He ran his hands through the curls that had appeared after the very interesting shower session they’d had (nothing sexy, just difficult because of his leg injury) and hushed him.

”It’s okay, you’re at home,” he whispered to Tommy, who was now blinking up at him. ”I’m here.”

Tommy took hold of his free hand, squeezing it so tightly that it almost hurt. He licked his dry lips and swallowed, before resting his head back against his pillow, taking in a deep breath.

”Christ,” he mumbled under his breath.

Buck kept gently scratching his scalp with the tips of his fingers, ”You’re okay, it was just a nightmare. I’m here.”

”Thank God for that,” Tommy whispered to him, somehow holding onto his hand even tighter.

”What did you dream about?” Buck asked once Tommy’s breathing seemed to be under control.

”Today,” Tommy replied, shaking his head a little. ”The call we got was horrible.”

”I’m sorry,” Buck whispered, dropping his hand to Tommy’s neck and rubbing the warm skin there.

”We were called to assist because we were nearby, even though they didn’t air support,” Tommy explained to him. ”Some kid had set the school on fire and with the way the building looked, I doubt it was up to any kind of code. It was like a piece of paper, just burning away.”

Buck nodded, listening.

”There was a spot where the fire was at its worst. Obviously, we started from there,” Tommy continued. ”We went in. There were a lot of kids still stuck inside and we just… We had to get them out. The hallways were confusing… The fire seemed to be everywhere. And the screaming…”

Buck sighed, now gripping Tommy’s hand back, just as tightly.

”The floor gave in, me and two other firefighters went down with it. None of the kids did, thank God,” he said. ”The next thing I remember is being carried out of the building. I don’t think I even hit my head that hard, I mean, I don’t even have a concussion, but… I don’t know if it was just the shock that made me black out for a moment.”

”And what happened to your leg?” Buck asked softly.

”I’m not sure…” Tommy replied. ”Something sharp must have sliced it on the way down. I don’t remember being in pain. Not until I was in the ambulance anyway…”

Buck nodded, ”I was so scared when they called me.”

”I’m sor-”

”No,” Buck stopped him immediately, placing a finger against Tommy’s lips, ”I don’t want you to apologize for getting hurt. I want to know when these things happen and I want you to tell me about them because… I know what it’s like to suffer through these things alone. To keep those thoughts inside your head. I don’t want that for you. You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

The smallest of smiles spread on Tommy’s lips. He tilted his head a little.

”Noted,” he said, bringing his hand to rest against Buck’s cheek. ”Thank you, baby.”

Buck kissed his palm.

”Do you often get nightmares after something like this happens?”

”Not really, no,” Tommy told him, sounding genuine. ”In my nightmare, you were there. Don’t get me wrong, the whole call was horrible, especially because kids were involved but… In my nightmare, you were there and went down as well and I couldn’t find you-”

He paused to take in another deep breath.

”Hey,” Buck whispered, leaning closer. ”I’m right here.”

”I know,” Tommy said, now looking at him intensely, the way that he often did when he wanted to make sure Buck was truly hearing him. ”The thought of losing you… Terrifies me, Evan. When I met you for the first time, I- I thought you were cute but I couldn’t have realized how much you’d end up meaning to me.”

”You mean a lot to me too,” Buck told him. ”And the thought of losing you terrifies me as well but I guess that’s- that’s the price that we’re going to have to pay for doing what we do and being together. I’m willing to live with that. Are you?”

Tommy nodded, ”Of course, Evan. Of course.”

”Good,” Buck said with a small smile, trying his best to ignore his eyes welling up just the smallest amount. ”Because you’re not getting rid of me. I am not going anywhere, Tommy, and even if the damn universe tries to take me away from you, I won’t let it.”

”That is… a lot,” Tommy chuckled gently.

”It’s the truth,” Buck whispered and pressed their lips together.

He allowed himself to linger, knowing that no one would interrupt them.

”Now rest up. I’ll heat up some food and when you’re feeling like it, we’re going grocery shopping. I know you’re all about working out and all that but I will not have my boyfriend only eating chicken and vegetables,” Buck rambled to him as he got up from his seat and started making his way toward the kitchen.

He turned to look back at him before stepping into the kitchen and found Tommy looking right back at him.

Buck smiled, ”I love you.”

And Tommy smiled right back. ”I love you too, Ev.”

They would be just fine.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fanfiction #prompt fill #rose answers #911 on abc

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