#Before it gets too late. and yet...lo and behold...........

[scaryfaggot]

GOODNIGHT (its 5 am)

[rqnarok]

old man!logan obsessing over his pregnant wifey

headcanons - cws/tags: smut! mdni. breeding kink. lactation kink. pregnant sex. dom/sub dynamics.

a/n: okie a lot of u asked for a part two of this blurb, here ya’ go my loves! <3

Logan Howlett used to think he wouldn’t be a good father. Hell, with that temper and attitude? He was sure he’d be the worst one. 

But you don’t seem to agree with him on many things—especially his self-destructive thoughts. I mean, that’s why you let him knock you up in the first place. You’d grin seeing your belly round and full of his babe, tits plump and leaking.

You are too beautiful to behold, “My pretty fuckin’ wife.” A sight that has Logan’s libido reaching its peak, the ones he thought he was not capable of anymore as an old man. 

Yet here he is, dick hard and balls full each time he sees you. 

Shit. You look so soft, walking around the house barefoot and swollen with his offspring. A sick and possessive side of him loves knowing that when you are out in public, it’s apparent that you’re taken by him, carrying his child. 

Pregnancy grants you a restless glow that makes it harder for him to say no to you. “W-wan’ you, please, Lo—” When you beg him to stuff you up full, who is he to deny his wife? Deny the mother of his child? 

He turns into a madman at how your leaking tits bounce up and down when you ride his girth, at how your breasts seem to look when you wear those tight tops, at how your nipples are poking all the damn time, and at how you are hornier than ever.

Yeah, he caught you hiding under the sheets rubbing your swollen clit and fingers deep in your own dripping cunt with his name rolling off your tongue — thinking he’s still doing his late night shift. 

He fucks you as much as he can, the positions getting more and more adapted as your stomach grows, sometimes filthier than ever, “Put your legs up here, baby. Can’t have ya’ sore now, can we?”

His favorite position is still you on your back, thighs spread apart, and belly full on display. “Ya’ got me so fuckin’ hard, pretty.” He doesn’t give a damn that his aging body feels aching—he could watch this for hours. Your face contorted with pleasure as his fat cock thrusts in and out. 

Oh, Logan’s nasty. He says he tries to ‘relieve’ your pain by sucking at your sensitive, leaking nipples while plunging his cock inside of you. “Mhm, such a sweet wife for your old man.” Pumping your full womb while he laps at your milk. 

The almost 200-year-old man believes he has gained stamina—now that he has more responsibility. He’s always ready to load you up for days on end. And that’s exactly what he’ll do for the next few weeks. Molding his cock inside you before sex starts to get all too much for his pregnant wifey. 

Logan’s a natural caretaker. It shows when you’re hitting the post-orgasm soreness and barely do anything except breathe heavily. He never forgets to show his affection, scratching his scruffy grey beard on your neck before softly kneading sensitive parts of your body. 

“Let’s get ya’ cleaned up, mama.”

A bad father? Logan Howlett buried all of his dictionaries and named you his language. 

[loveanddeepthoughts]

First part

i didnt think people would want a second part for the sylus thought and i just came back from work to see all that 😭😭 thank u so much for the support yall !!!

Potential ends that i’m thinking about expanding on, inspired by yall in the comments :

The premise for all of them is that EVER is the one who kidnaps reader and the reason why she’s so domestic and non-combative is to get away from the memories of EVER.

1) Hunter MC is ironically the one to save reader from EVER before Sylus even knew she was kidnapped and it’s finally a win for the gays no doomer yuri here (yet at least)

2) Reader goes off the rails and becomes an EVER puppet like Caleb and they end up working together only for MC and Sylus to confront the two of them and oooh angst bc MC and Sylus realise it’s too late to save them both…

3) By the time EVER is done with reader, Sylus is yet to realise despite the twins asking how she is and telling him they haven’t seen her lately. She ends up in Akso Hospital bc EVER dumps her on the border of Linkon and lo and behold our dearest Doctor Li comes in to help us. Dunno if i’d make Zayne end game or just kill off reader in this end though…

Lemme know what yall think ! Unfortunately, i am in uni and working so i may not be very fast at updating but i’ll do my best teehee (๑>◡<๑)

[monzabee]

Hi!!! I know you're in Turkey, and therefore obviously can't work on requests, but I thought I should put on in for when you get the chance to write!!

I've been so hooked on the nanny series with hotch, and even more with the way you write his feelings!! I want to request something for it. Maybe she takes a day off, which is already pretty unusual for her, and is kinda secretive an vague about what it is. I'm imagining her going on a date and hotch somehow finding out about it and I just want to read all about his reaction.

Obviously if this isn't an idea you're super into, no worries! I look forward too reading more of your writing :)

- H

too late, too soon - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: you’re left wondering about your boss’ feelings towards you. unfortunately for you, aaron isn’t exactly an open book. 

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: they finally realize they are in love! jealous aaron! sad reader! not a happy ending i'm not gonna lie to you, angst galore 

Author's Note: hellooo!! this was very fun for me to work on and it feels so good to be working on some requests after coming back! this is a shameless reminder that my requests are still open! thank you so much for your request and i hope you like it!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

You've realized that the work-life balance of a nanny is rather non-existent after the first few months you’ve spent with the Hotchners. Not that you’re particularly complaining, of course. Jack is probably the nicest kid to ever exist, and Aaron is... well, he is Aaron.  

So, when you tell Aaron you’ll be taking the day off, you notice the small furrow in his brow, the way his hand tightens slightly around his coffee mug. 

“Is everything alright?” he asks, voice even. 

“Yeah, of course. Just... taking a little time for myself,” you say, offering what you hope is a casual shrug. You don't mention the coffee date you’ve agreed to—mostly because saying it aloud feels strange, and you don’t know how you’d tell him in the first place.  

You thought he’d make a move after the way he looked at you at the gala. Or after you literally shared a bed after having a fight. Or better yet, after you looked after him when he was at the hospital last month.  

But nope. Zilch. Nada.  

So now you’re here, fumbling for casual lies, pretending you don’t care, pretending the tiny crack in Aaron’s professional façade doesn't make your heart pound louder in your ears. 

“Of course,” he says after a moment, nodding tightly. "You deserve it." 

You wonder if you’re imagining the strain in his voice. Maybe you want to hear it too badly. 

You leave early the next morning, feeling oddly guilty for stepping out. You tell yourself it’s normal — you’re allowed to have a life outside of this house, outside of Jack and Aaron and all the complicated feelings simmering beneath your skin. And a coffee date isn’t a date in the first place. It’s in the middle of the day, so in your mind, you’re not even going out on a date ‘date’. If anything, it’s just you testing the waters... and trying so desperately to get your mind off your very emotionally constipated boss.  

Still, you check your phone twice before the date even begins, half-expecting a text you have no reason to hope for. 

Lo and behold, it doesn’t come. 

You shove your phone back into your bag and force yourself to focus. The guy — Mark? Matt? — is sweet enough. He’s charming in a way that feels almost too easy, too practiced, but you let yourself laugh at his jokes and sip your coffee and pretend like you don’t feel like you’re waiting for someone else. Someone, who you’d consider the most stubborn man on this earth, but heart wants what it wants, you suppose. He's kind, easy to talk to, and you do your best to focus on the conversation instead of wondering what Jack’s having for dinner or if Aaron remembered Jack’s favorite bedtime story. 

What you don't know is that you’re not the only one at that café. 

Aaron hadn’t meant to find you. Honestly, he hadn’t even realized how close he was until he heard your laugh — soft and familiar, threading into him like muscle memory. 

He's frozen on the sidewalk, briefcase in hand, watching you from across the street through the window. The man you’re with leans in slightly, laughing at something you’ve said, and Aaron feels an unfamiliar prickle of jealousy claw up his spine. 

You look... happy. 

He should be happy for you. 

He should leave. 

Instead, he stands there too long, the scene burning into the backs of his eyelids even after he forces himself to turn away. And because he is a masochist, his eyes choose to focus on the way your hand brushes against your date’s across the small table—a fleeting, innocent touch—but it’s enough to make his chest tighten painfully. He tries to make himself believe that it is for the best when he’s walking to his car.  

He tells himself he doesn’t care. 

He tells himself you deserve someone who isn’t him. 

He tells himself that letting you go is the right thing. 

But the truth is, none of that is true. Because he knows you don’t deserve someone with all his baggage—but he knows you don’t deserve coffee dates either. You deserve more. And God help him; Aaron wants so badly to be the one to give it to you. 

He grips the steering wheel tighter when he gets into his car, his knuckles whitening. He sits there for a moment, head falling back against the seat, eyes closing briefly as if he can somehow will away the ache in his chest. 

But he can’t. 

Because no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise, the truth remains: he is already hopelessly, irreversibly in love with you. 

There’s a strange ache in your chest as you walk back home later that afternoon, the late sunlight catching on the sidewalk, making everything feel a little too bright and a little too sharp at the same time. You tell yourself it’s just the awkwardness of ending the date—Mark (Matt?) had asked if you wanted to do it again, and you’d said you’d think about it. Which was polite speak for no, and you both knew it. 

You tell yourself it’s normal to feel a little hollow after putting yourself out there, after trying so hard to feel something for someone else when you obviously have feelings for one named Aaron Hotchner.  

You don’t tell yourself the truth. 

You don’t tell yourself that you’d spent half the date wishing you were sitting across from someone else entirely. That you’d thought about the way Aaron listens when you talk, the way his mouth softens when he smiles at Jack, the way his voice always dips low when he says your name. 

By the time you reach the house, your feet are dragging, heart heavier than when you left. You find the door locked—not unusual—but the soft sound of footsteps in the kitchen draws you in. Aaron stands there, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, like he’s been pacing. He looks up the second you step inside, and for a moment, the air feels too thick to breathe. 

“Hey,” you say, voice catching slightly, and it almost makes you wince. It’s not natural, the rigid way you stand at the entrance. If this was any other day, you’d make a smart remark about how he looks with his sleeves rolled up, he’d give you one of the looks he has reserved for you, you’d flirt with him—shamelessly, and secretly hope that he feels the same way towards you that you do for him.  

“Hey,” he replies, but it's rougher, lower. Like he's been thinking about what to say for a while and still doesn’t know how to start. He doesn't move, and neither do you. The silence stretches just long enough to be uncomfortable. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but Aaron beats you to it. “I saw you today.” 

Your breath catches, just for a second. You don't know what you expected him to say — certainly not that. “You... you did?” you ask, your voice small, uncertain, and very out of character. 

He nods once, tightly. His hands flex at his sides, like he wants to reach for you and knows he shouldn’t. “You should go on more dates,” he says, each word slow, deliberate, as if he’s forcing them out one by one. “You deserve to be with someone who can give you everything you want. Someone who doesn't carry around... everything that I do.” 

You blink, feeling the burn of unshed tears. “Aaron—” 

He cuts you off, gentle but firm. “I’m serious. You’re young, you’re smart, you’re incredible with Jack. You shouldn’t...” His jaw tightens. “You shouldn't wait around for someone like me.” 

“Since when do you get to decide that for me?” The words splinter inside you, sharp and cruel even though you know he thinks he’s being kind. Even though you can see the truth of it written all over his face—the longing, the ache, the way he can’t quite meet your eyes because if he does, he’ll break. “So what? I should go date other people? Sure, do you also want me to tell you about the dates as well? Maybe you’d like details.”  

The muscle in his jaw jumps. For a moment, he says nothing. Just looks at you like you’ve ripped something out of him and he’s trying to piece it back together without falling apart. “That’s not what I meant,” he finally says, voice tight, low, strained in a way you’ve never heard before. 

“No?” You challenge, stepping closer before you can talk yourself out of it. Your heart is pounding, your hands shaking, but you keep going. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell sounds like you’re pushing me away and expecting me to just smile and thank you for it.” 

He exhales, sharp and broken, like he’s holding back something he doesn't trust himself to say. “I’m not good for you,” he says roughly. “I want you. God, I want you so much it terrifies me. But I can't be what you need. I have Jack. I have this job. I have all this baggage—” 

“Oh, trust me, I know,” you interrupt fiercely, voice rising. “I know all of that, Aaron. And I still—” You stop, chest heaving, the words threatening to burst free, terrifying in their honesty. “And I still want you.” 

For the first time, he meets your eyes fully. “I can’t lose you,” he says, so softly you barely catch it. “If I have you… and something happens… I couldn’t survive it. I’m already—” He breaks off, a pained breath leaving him.  

“You are a coward, Mister Hotchner,” you emphasize despite the shaking in your voice and all the aching burn you feel in your chest, despite how much you love him—God, you love him—and how badly you want to just fall into his arms and let this all be easy. 

“I’m not good for you,” he says roughly. “I want you. God, I—” He cuts himself off, like even admitting that much is dangerous. 

You stare at him, your heart aching so fiercely it feels like your chest might cave in. For a second, you wonder if you should fight it—if you should close the distance between you, say the thing that's burning on the tip of your tongue. But something in his face stops you. 

It’s not hesitation. It’s resignation. 

He’s already made up his mind. 

And maybe... maybe you should too. So you swallow hard, the weight of everything crushing you down. “I know you think you're protecting me,” you say quietly. “But you’re not. You’re just hurting both of us.” 

You pull in a shaking breath, forcing yourself to smile—a small, sad thing that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I should go check on Jack.” 

He nods, once, tightly, like it’s physically painful to let you walk away. His hands clench at his sides like he’s fighting every instinct to call you back. But he doesn’t. 

And you don't look back when you leave the room. Because if you do, you know you’ll break. 

[kaiser-s-bitch]

KINKTOBER - Day 1

Handjob // Kinich

~~~~~

a/n: this got rather lengthy (for my standards) since it’s the first day and I wanted to make sure I’m off to a good start - but the other days most likely won’t be as extensive bc else I probably won’t be able to keep up🥹

(side note: Ajaw is in timeout for this)

anyway enjoy!!

~~~~~

It had all started out rather innocently.

You were hanging out with your boyfriend - Kinich - making out a little as usual. But usually, everything would stay relatively tame - neither of you wanting to push one another’s boundaries too far. At this point, it was honestly almost ridiculous, just how much both of you had been holding back.

Without the other knowing, of course.

Even your shared friend Mualani had started getting impatient for your sake.

"What do you mean you haven’t had sex or anything yet?? You’ve been dating for so long already. What are you waiting for?!", she had told you (or rather yelled) one night as you were hanging out alone with her in one of the hot springs of her hometown.

She did have a point - both you and Kinich were generally very comfortable with one another, but when it came to more intimate matters, your communication was just a bit… awkward. So you had recently kind of settled on avoiding it altogether, in fear of messing up in one way or another.

But after Mualani’s pep talk, you were determined to finally muster up your courage and initiate taking things a bit further than usual.

Which brought you back to the present.

You and Kinich had just finished your commissions for the day, having opted to relax and have some private time in a secluded little spot out in the wilderness, hidden by the shade of various surrounding vegetation. You were sitting close to one another, one of his hands tenderly cradling your face while exchanging slow, sensual kisses, his lips moving against yours without any sense of rush or urgency. It was intimate, yes, but rather… tame.

You decided to lean in a bit closer, deepening the kiss to see how he’d react, and lo and behold: Kinich complied instantly, almost seamlessly adapting to the more intense pace you set, even letting out a low hum of approval. His positive reaction made you more confident that the moment was right, that you could try to turn things up a notch.

You slowly started inching your hand, which had been idly resting on his thigh, higher up. You were hesitant and somewhat nervous, but you figured it was too late to back out now. Your breath quickened as your hand eventually came to tentatively palm his crotch, earning a choked noise from Kinich in response as he froze up for a second. You immediately pulled your hand back as if you had gotten burned, breaking the kiss to look at him with apologetic eyes.

"…Sorry. Too much, huh?" You chuckled nervously, your gaze darting around to avoid his piercing gaze, internally cursing yourself for your rather bumpy attempt at seduction.

"Hey", he spoke in his usual calm, rather monotone voice, trying to get your attention and make you look at him again. When you didn’t react for a moment too long, he opted for taking your hand in his own, gently guiding it back to where you had previously placed it.

"Don’t just jump to conclusions. I didn’t even say anything", he remarked in an almost stern-sounding tone, before gently placing his other hand on your cheek again to capture your eyes with his own hypnotic ones, almost as if he was trying to show you his thoughts with his gaze alone. After all, Kinich excelled at many things - but expressing his emotions, especially with words, was certainly not one of them.

"So, you don’t mind?", you inquired, your features expressing a mixture of hesitant curiosity and uncertain surprise. Kinich scoffed in response, an almost amused smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

"No. Absolutely not", he retorted without hesitation. "I just never wanted to do, let alone make you do anything you’re not ready for."

Your lips parted as if to say something as realization hit you. Goddammit - you really had been worrying about nothing. You had just both been too introverted and awkward to ever explicitly talk about this, and assumed the other didn’t want to do more.

After a moment of gathering your thoughts, you eventually tilted your head, slowly speaking up again "Does that mean… you want me to… keep going?"

Kinich scoffed again, rolling his eyes. He reached down to gently hold your hand in place as he bucked his hips up, making you feel the hardening bulge through the fabric under your palm.

"What do you think, hm?", he asked sarcastically, his voice a bit more hoarse than usual. He brings his free hand up to the back of your head, carefully entangling his fingers in your hair and bringing you in for another kiss - this time distinctly more heated and passionate than before. His tongue gently probed between your lips, seeking to deepen the kiss, to which you gladly complied. Your hand instinctively started rubbing him through his pants, eliciting a few breathy grunts and sighs from your boyfriend in the process. Smiling against his lips in satisfaction, you got increasingly more bold - rubbing him quicker and with more pressure to get to hear more of Kinich’s soft sounds of pleasure, until you could tell he was fully hardened beneath your touch. You had never heard him like this before, but it was like the sweetest music to your ears, and you already knew you had to hear more of it. It was utterly addicting to see and hear the usually so calm and collected "Malipo" losing his composure like this.

You pulled away from the kiss for a moment to give him a questioning look, silently asking for permission to go further than this. He immediately understood, nodding eagerly in response and quickly reaching down to undo his belt buckle in order to make it easier for you to proceed.

You whispered a quiet "Thank you" before leaning in once more to kiss him deeply and give his bottom lip a playful nip, which immediately earned you a sharp hiss and a light pat on the butt from Kinich. You couldn’t help but snicker in amusement, taking the opportunity to slip your hand under the waistband of his boxers, now finally teasing him directly by letting your fingertips ever so lightly brush over the swollen head of his dick, which was already leaking with precum in anticipation.

"If I had known you were this eager, we could’ve done this so much sooner, you dork", you muttered with a half amused, half exasperated huff, making him roll his eyes at you once again.

"It’s called having manners."

- "It’s called not being good at communicating."

"Look who’s talking. You didn’t say anything either."

You stayed silent for a moment, unable to refute his words. Instead, you opted for distracting him by wrapping your entire hand around his arousal, pumping him slowly and with little pressure. His eyes rolled back for a moment as he lets out a raspy grunt, a shudder going through his entire body from the pleasant stimulation, the mere fact that it was your hand touching him this way making it feel so much better.

"Like this?", you asked softly, smirking smugly at being able to turn your usually stoic boyfriend into putty with just a few intimate touches.

"Yeah. But… you can do it harder. And faster", he rasped, his amber-green eyes flickering to fix onto yours, as if imploring you to do as he asked.

"Hmm, so demanding all of a sudden", you teased, your smirk never faltering as you carefully tugged his pants and boxers down just enough to free his erection, making it easier for you to touch him. He lets out a small relieved sigh at the lack of restraints, shuddering a little from the sudden exposure of his heat to the in contrast cool air.

With practiced ease and deliberation, you continued rubbing him slowly, keeping up the rather light pressure to rile him up further. Annoyed by your antics, he shot you a half-hearted glare, biting his lip in order to keep in a sound that had threatened to escape him.

"You… you’re doing this on purpose. You shouldn’t just start something you don’t intend to finish, you know?", he chided in a raspy voice that lacked any real conviction, his heavy breathing and lidded eyes doing very little in aiding his diminished authority.

"Oh, I very much do intend to finish this. I merely intended on taking my time", you replied coyly as you drank in his aroused state with a mixture of awe and pride, knowing it was all your doing.

"I can tell", he muttered under his breath, purposely refraining from arguing any further as all he wanted right now was some, any, sort of relief.

Taking pity on him, you decided not to annoy him too much as this was your first time doing this with him. You started focusing one hand’s ministrations on rubbing tight circles against his tip with your thumb, wrapping the other one around the base of his hardness. You proceeded to pleasure him with firm, rhythmic pumps and squeezes in time with your circling motions, closely observing his every reaction. You took note of how his cheeks were dusted in a pink blush, his eyes screwed shut and his lips parted in pleasure, letting out little huffs and grunts here and then. You couldn’t help yourself at the sight, leaning in and capturing his lips in a messy kiss, which he gladly returned, a content hum vibrating against your lips.

You could feel him twitch in your hands, signalizing that he was getting dangerously close to the edge.

"I-I’m—", he started but quickly got cut off by his own moan in the process of trying to warn you of his impending release, but you understood it nevertheless.

"I know, darling. It’s okay", you whispered against his lips, devouring him in a messy kiss as you doubled your efforts of jerking him off in increasingly ragged motions. You heard Kinich curse under his breath repeatedly, his entire body trembling and tensing up as his release quickly built up to a crescendo, a low, almost chocked groan falling from his lips as the waves of pleasure finally crashed over him and threatened to pull him under.

You continued pumping him at a steady but distinctly slower pace, helping him drag out as much of his high as possible before finally stilling your movements. You pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, a small smile gracing your lips at the sight of his blissed-out expression. Bringing your hand up to your lips, you made a show of slowly licking off the residue of his pleasure, keeping eye contact with him as you did.

"Okay… that was hot.", he muttered breathlessly, forcing himself to avert his gaze in a futile attempt to hide his flustered expression, clearly very much affected by your lewd display.

You chuckled softly, your smile widening as you turned his face back towards you, gently pulling him in for a kiss to let him taste himself on your tongue - earning you a subtle groan from your boyfriend.

After a few moments, he suddenly pulled away and got on his feet, quickly fixing up his clothes with a dead serious, almost angry-looking expression on his still flushed face. Puzzled, you furrowed your brows and gave him a questioning look, getting up as well to stand next to him.

"What’s wrong?"

He glanced down at you, shaking his head. "Nothing. Let’s continue this - at home."

[lemoncrushh]

Mistletoe & Holly

Summary: Harry finally reveals to his friend Holly how he feels about her on her birthday...which just happens to be Christmas.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4833

A/N: As promised, this is one of my two holiday fics from the past. Originally written and posted in 2021. In Harry's POV.

Holly’s birthday was the 25th of December. “Freaking Christmas Day”, as she'd put it when we'd become friends years ago.

"I was born on freaking Christmas Day, Harry! Like baby Jesus. Can you believe it?"

Her mum had been told she couldn't have children, but 'lo and behold one day after having a horrible upset stomach and a case of indigestion, she went to the doctor only to find out she was pregnant. Holly'd laughed about it then when she told me, making light of the fact that she'd been a miracle baby. I couldn't help but think she was indeed a miracle.

To say I'd had a crush on her would be an understatement. I reckon in those early days it was just a crush, as I followed her around like a dumb lovestruck puppy. But I didn’t really know what love was yet; I just thought she was pretty, and she was cool because she had the entire second floor of her parents’ house to herself. She sat behind me in class, and I’d let her copy off my papers, or she’d let me do the same, even though neither of us got the best marks.

It wasn’t until the second year that I realised my feelings for her were more than mere infatuation. She started dating…other guys…and I didn’t like it. Especially when she would tell me about them. I found myself jealous, and I didn’t like that either. I would sulk, wishing I could turn back the clock to when it was just her and me. But the truth was, there never had been a her and me. We were never a thing and were never gonna be. I’d missed my chance. I was in the friend zone.

Still, every year I would celebrate her birthday with her. I thought it was a shame that she had to share her birthday with the biggest holiday of the year, so we’d do it a week before, a tradition I came up with myself.

“You need to have your day, Holly,” I insisted. “A day that’s just for you.”

“Okay,” she agreed, giving me that grin she’d use when she was humouring me. “What do you suggest we do to celebrate?”

I shrugged. “I’ll think of something. Just leave it to me.”

That first year I’ll admit was a little lame. It was too late to plan a party, not that I would have known whom to invite anyway. I baked her a cake (okay, my mum helped me a little), and I brought it to her house. The look on her face when she’d opened the door was totally worth it. She beamed at me with her big eyes and lovely crooked-tooth smile, and I could have kissed her had I not been holding that massive cake in my hands. Okay, maybe not.

We sat on the floor with our backs against the sofa whilst we ate cake and watched Star Wars - her choice. Somewhere around the middle of the movie, I gave her my other gift, a stuffed bear wearing a beanie. Yes, I know, cheesy. But I was a kid. She kept it on her bed for a long time, so I guess she didn’t hate it.

The next year I was able to plan a party, and a lot of kids came. But the downside was that Holly had a semi-boyfriend, a prat named Duncan who kept trying to get her alone. I came close to getting him to eat one of the cookies I'd brought, knowing he was allergic to nuts, but Holly quickly slapped it out of his hand, giving me a look. I lied and told her I hadn’t known of his allergy, and spent the rest of the party in the kitchen with her mum and dad, claiming I had a headache.

That wasn't the last time I had to walk around with my tail between my legs. After the X-Factor and becoming part of One Direction, we continued to stay in touch. But I'd forgotten about my pact with Holly until it was almost too late, and the guys and I were making plans for Louis's birthday.

"You should come," I told Holly on the phone. "We'll make it a joint thing. A massive celebration."

“Are you sure?” she asked, and I could detect the tone of hesitation.

“Of course. It’ll be fun.”

The party itself had been fun, but what I had neglected to do was try to make it extra special for Holly, seeing as most everyone else was there for Louis. After my bandmate had blown out his candles, and we roasted him for a bit, I brought out the cake for Holly, a round one with white icing and holly and berries on the top. While she put on her best smile, I could tell she was disappointed that no one made a big deal, barely singing an encore of “Happy Birthday” as they stood digging their forks into Louis’s cake.

Each year, I tried to one-up myself, hoping I’d make her birthday more enjoyable than the last - or at least better than that one. I made it a point never to combine her day with Louis’s again as the entire idea was based on her having her own day.

A few years later, however, I did the worst thing I possibly could. Niall and I had gotten into the liquor before the festivities had started, long before Holly even arrived. To this day I don’t really know why I did it, but I blame it on the nerves. I’d had it in the back of my mind that I was finally going to tell Holly how I felt about her. She’d had another boyfriend earlier that year, Eric, and I’d hated him. I mean, gritting-my-teeth-every-time-he-appeared and keeping-my-hands-in-fists-in-case-he-breathed-wrong hated him. He was a dickhead and just...completely wrong for Holly. She deserved much better. She deserved to be with someone who treated her like a queen. She deserved to be with me.

So when she and Eric had broken up before Halloween, I was so relieved and elated, I wanted to throw her the best birthday party ever. I was going to tell her everything in my heart. And up to then, I hadn’t told a soul. 

That is, until Niall handed me a drink. I wasn’t sure what was in it, but it tasted amazing. The more I drank, the more I liked it. I was feeling pretty good, making jokes and having fun until I found myself telling Niall my plan. 

“Shit, good luck, mate,” he said, slapping me on the back. “Just...what if she turns you down?”

Before that moment, I hadn’t even considered that Holly wouldn’t love me back. I mean, certainly there was no guarantee that she would fall into my arms as soon as I confessed. She might have some reservations, even, what with us being such good friends and all. But what if she actually said she had no feelings for me at all and told me to get lost? Suddenly, I felt a sourness in my stomach, and not from the liquor.

To make matters worse, as if on cue, the door opened and in stepped Holly. For a second my face lit up, all doubts I’d just had a second earlier now dissolving at the sight of her in her black dress and red lipstick. Straightening my shirt, I stood back, waiting until her other friends gave her welcoming hugs to make my move.

And that’s when I saw him.

Fucking Eric was stood right behind her.

In less than two seconds, I strode across the room, my eyes shooting daggers at the wanker.

“Hey, Harry!” Holly beamed at me, but I barely noticed. “Looks like a great party.”

“What’s he doing here?” I growled, my hands in fists ready to take a punch if needed. Eric merely raised his eyebrows, as though he already knew he was unwelcome.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind,” Holly said meekly. “I invited him.”

“You’re back together?”

Holly shrugged, a pink blush to her cheeks as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Maybe. We’ve been talking…”

Eric gave a grin so smug that I felt my arm swing back, but someone grabbed it. Turning my head, I saw Niall who shook his at me. Just then I heard a squeal to my left as another one of Holly’s friends ran up to greet the birthday girl. As they embraced, I suddenly felt the room close in on me, so I pushed through the crowd back to wherever Niall was keeping that good tasting concoction.

I don’t remember much else about that night except some girl whose name I’ve forgotten. Niall tells me I “played disciple”, following her wherever she went until she agreed to join me in a spare room. I’m not sure what I was doing, or how far I actually got with her, but apparently Holly walked in on us. She’s never told me what she saw, and I’m not sure if that’s more for her benefit or mine.

But yeah. Not my finest hour.

As the years went by, Holly and I remained friends, keeping in touch mostly through her private social media accounts, occasionally reaching out or getting together when our paths crossed. I heard of her new boyfriends, one I even met in person whom I considered to be a proper lad. Holly asked about my relationships as well, never sounding jealous or snarky, only supportive. I reckoned we’d both matured, particularly from my end. Eventually my romantic feelings for her evaporated to more of a warm, mutual understanding. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

This year, Holly decided to have her party at her place. She’d recently purchased her own place, her first “big girl flat” she called it, and was excited to show it off. She let me know that I needn’t plan anything, that she had it all under control.

Slamming the car door behind me, I looked up at her building, the windows and balcony trimmed in clear lights, a wreath decorating the center of the railing. I thought of all the previous Decembers I’d spent with Holly, celebrating her birthday, and suddenly felt a sense of loneliness. I hadn’t been dating anyone in what seemed like a long time as I tried to recall if she currently had a boyfriend.

The large, red, square box under my arm, I wiped my brow with the back of my other gloved hand, feeling the first fall of snow. Trudging up the steps, I rang the buzzer for Holly’s flat, an unmistakable smile twitching my lips when I heard her voice welcoming me in.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, my love,” she cooed softly into my ear as she wrapped her arms around my neck. I tried my best to keep my adolescent desires at bay as I innocently inhaled the scent of her perfume. “You need to come around more often.”

“And when’s the last time you came to see me, hmm?” I teased.

Her mouth in a straight line, Holly considered my comment. “You know, we can’t all afford to follow you around on tour for a year.”

“Have I been gone that long?”

“Longer,” Holly chided, taking my coat and setting my present on the credenza behind her, next to the other shiny wrapped gifts.

I chuckled. “Impossible. I saw you last birthday.”

“Fair enough. Just don’t make it a habit.”

“Too late, darling.”

I caught the gleam in Holly’s eye just before I felt a hand slap my shoulder, making me turn.

“Harry, lad! Wonderful to see you!”

“You as well, Richard, how are you?” I greeted Holly’s dad who guided me into the next room. My gaze searching for Holly, I caught her hanging my coat just before the doorbell rang again and Richard poured me a bourbon.

I sat in Holly’s living room, chatting with Richard and Megan, Holly’s mum, and few of Holly’s friends - some I’d known for years and some I’d just met. Holly, being the gracious hostess, greeted each person to arrive, so it was a while before she finally joined us. I noticed how she pushed her hair behind her right ear; I noticed how she sipped her cocktail; I noticed how she threw her head back laughing at something funny that was said. I noticed everything.

But more importantly, I noticed how no one had claimed the spot next to her, taking her hand or sliding their arm around her shoulder, chatting like she was their better half.

Holly was single. Just like me.

“Harry,” she suddenly addressed me as she rose from her chair with a smile, “let me show you the rest of the flat.”

Setting my glass on the table, I eagerly stood up. Then Holly surprised me by turning toward the other guests.

“You lot can sit tight and talk amongst yourselves for a bit, can’t you? I need some alone time with my old friend.”

“Of course, love!” Megan cheered, waving us away. “Take your time.”

With a smirk on my face and a thump in my chest, I began to follow Holly out of the room just in time to hear Richard’s remark that I was sure was not meant for me to hear.

“Old friend, my arse!” he quipped. “Girl’s been mad about him since-”

“Shhh!” Megan interrupted. “Quiet, Richard, they’ll hear you!”

“Harry, are you coming?” Holly’s voice called, making me realise I’d stopped just outside the doorway.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll show you the kitchen last because it’s closest to the den,” she explained. “And that way we can circle back around.”

“Alright,” I nodded sheepishly as she stopped at the end of the hall with a smile. However, instead of gesturing toward the room ahead of her, she pointed at the lovely french doors beside where we stood.

“This is probably my favourite part of this flat,” she said wistfully. “It was the selling point for me.”

I knew the doors must open to the balcony I’d seen outside when I’d arrived before she grabbed the handles and pushed them open. A gust of wind blew in, causing her hair to lift and flow behind her, like she was Elsa in Frozen.

“Sorry,” she muttered, “I know it’s horribly frigid out there. I just wanted you to see.”

“It’s very lovely,” I grinned, stepping up next to her.

“I can’t wait to have morning tea out here,” she added, grabbing my arm. “But I’m afraid that will have to wait until spring.”

In what felt like slow motion, Holly squeezed my arm against her chest, and I felt the warmth of her even through my jumper. I couldn’t help but smile as she pressed her nose to my shoulder before releasing her hold and pulling the doors shut.

“Brrrr,” she shook. “Perhaps that was a bad idea.”

I chuckled as I followed her to the open doorway to our left.

“Toilet,” she confirmed with a shrug. “Nothing fancy. And this is my bedroom.”

The room at the end of the hall was open to reveal a large bed, decorated in loads of blankets and massive amounts of pillows, all in shades of blue and grey. As I stepped into the room, the familiar scent that I only associated with Holly filled my nostrils. Everything felt very serene, as though I’d been there before, and I never wanted to leave.

“I tried to make it as calming as possible,” I heard her speak behind me. “Like my own personal sanctuary.”

“I reckon you succeeded,” I nodded. “It’s beautiful, Holly.”

“Thanks,” she beamed. “Okay, now for the kitchen.”

Holly surprised me again by holding out her hand, which I took gratefully. Passing by the french doors again, I noticed something I hadn’t before - a small sprig of a plant hanging just above the doors.

“Hey, is that…” I pointed.

I caught the pink in Holly’s cheeks before she giggled and nodded. “Mistletoe. I just thought it was cute, and kinda funny.”

“Alright then,” I smirked, recalling Richard’s previous hushed words.

“Mum and Dad may want to use it later,” she shrugged before turning the corner where I swore I heard her murmur, “or someone else.”

Pulling me into the kitchen, she stopped only to emphatically announce her pleasure in having more counter space than she’d ever had in her life. I smiled at her animated enthusiasm, happy for her that she finally owned her own place.

As she gestured to the exit to the left, I followed her back into the living room where a resounding game of charades was being played. I laughed as I watched Holly’s friend Gina try her best to mime the clue whilst Richard called out absurd answers.

“It might be time for Dad to put down the bourbon,” I heard Holly chuckle to my left just before Megan called out the correct answer and the room cheered.

“Ah, the birthday girl’s returned!” announced another of Holly’s friends. “I say it’s time to open the gifts!”

I felt Holly’s hand push the back of my arm, guiding me to the party. I took the chair I’d sat in earlier, across from Holly’s as I awaited the presents ritual. I was suddenly reminded of what I’d gotten her when Richard and Megan brought in the gifts collected on the credenza, setting them at Holly’s feet. My ridiculous red box sat in the back of the pile, like a caboose of confession.

I considered that she might take it lightly and even joke about it, the way she probably would have had she had a significant other. I supposed that was my own initial idea when I’d made the purchases and put it together. But now...after seeing her again, and all the feelings flooding back...I knew I’d been kidding myself.

Now everyone was going to watch her open it and see the awkward reaction she was bound to have. Good one, Styles.

One by one, I sat in silence and watched Holly open each gift, all earning oohs and ahs. When she finally reached for mine, I knew I was doomed.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said to the entire room, though her eyes were focused on me. “I saved this one for last.”

I could feel the stares without shifting my eyes. Licking my lips, I awaited the inevitable. When she tore off the wrapping and lifted the lid to the box, however, I got a different reaction from what I’d expected. Instead of looking confused and awkward, Holly laughed gleefully, throwing a hand over her mouth just as she snorted. Though I tried my best to laugh along with her, I was extremely perplexed.

“Oh my God,” she shrieked, lifting the bouquet of mistletoe. “That’s so funny, Harry! How did you know?”

Giving a light-hearted shrug, I muttered, “Just thought it was cute and funny.”

Gina, sat to Holly’s left, took the mistletoe from her hands and lifted it above Holly’s head. “Alright, who’s ready to kiss the birthday girl?”

Feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment, I was glad when Gina took it upon herself to give Holly a kiss on the check. And even more relieved when Marcus, her friend sat to her right pointed at the box.

“Looks like there’s more, Hol,” he said.

As Gina claimed the mistletoe, Holly reached inside the box for the second item - a monogrammed photo album I’d had made especially for her.

“Oh this is lovely!” she breathed, setting the box on the floor to balance the album in her lap. “Oh and look! There’s mistletoe and holly on it. How clever, H!”

When she opened it, I saw how wide her eyes got, realising what was inside.

“This...this is all you and me.”

“All of your birthdays,” I confirmed, “at least since I’ve known you. Except for the one that I ruined. And few other...fun moments.”

I heard a few awws and a “that’s so lovely, Harry” from Megan, but all I could focus on was Holly as she scanned each and every photo.

“How did you...find all these?” she asked. As she lifted her head, I noticed the wetness in her eyes.

I shrugged. “Most of them I already had. I’ve just been...collecting them.”

“I had no idea we’d taken so many pictures,” she sniffed. “Thank you, Harry, this is really special.”

“You’re welcome,” I nodded, relieved that she hadn’t thought more of it than a mere gesture of friendship.

Shutting the book, Holly reached forward for the box, noticing one more thing was inside.

“Oh, there’s more?” she asked with raised brows.

At the bottom of the box was another smaller box. When Holly lifted the lid, she gasped.

When Holly and I were fourteen, I’d given her a friendship bracelet. She’d worn it every single day for two years until one day she’d gotten it soiled. That birthday, I’d given her a new one. Though she’d argued with me that she didn’t want to replace the original, she was ultimately happy that I had.

That birthday that I’d ruined - the one where I nearly punched Eric and fooled around with some girl I don’t remember - my gift had been a silver charm bracelet. My idea had been to tell her that it was to officially replace that friendship bracelet, which I knew was long gone. But I hadn’t gotten the chance to see her open it because I’d been drunk and preoccupied.

I’d never seen Holly wearing that bracelet, either.

This year…

“Wow, Harry, I…” she began, more tears forming in her eyes as she lifted the gold braided bracelet in her hand, “I dunno what to say. This is...way more than you’ve ever given me.”

“That’s so gorgeous,” oohed Gina as she leant over to see Holly slip it onto her wrist.

“It’s to...replace that old one,” I explained.

“Which one?” Holly asked.

“The one that I never got to give you,” I admitted. “The one that is probably tainted because I was such an asshole that night and got wasted at your party.”

“Oh,” Holly mouthed. I could see the recognition in her face. She knew exactly what I was referring to.

“I regret that night, terribly, love,” I added, pressing a hand to my chest.

“Oh my God, what happened?” inquired Gina.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” muttered Holly, closing the box and returning it to the floor.

“I ruined her birthday,” I said before I even realised what I was doing. “Because I couldn’t just admit to her how I felt about her.”

Jaws dropped all around the room as Holly stared at me.

“Good on ya, mate!” I heard Richard say. “I always suspected!”

“Richard!” Megan scoffed in a loud whisper.

“Well, I did!”

The room seemed to fall away as I saw Holly rise from her chair and sprint down the hall. It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected, but it wasn’t a surprising one. Hastily, I followed her, wondering what the bloody hell I was going to say next. Hopefully I hadn’t just ruined a second birthday.

I found her stood next to the balcony doors, her hands on the knobs like she was debating whether or not to open them. I cleared my throat to let her know I was there, as I heard her whimper.

“Holly,” I managed to say, my mouth as dry as a desert. “Are you...okay?”

I saw her shoulders drop before she nodded. “I’m fine.”

Stepping closer, I could tell she was wiping her eyes.

“You don’t seem fine. I made a fool of myself and humiliated you in the process. I’m so sorry, Holly.”

“No, Harry,” she said. “I’m the fool.”

Turning to face me, she threw up her hands. “I had no idea.”

“That’s my fault,” I admitted. “I’m shit at communication. And I was afraid of rejection.”

“Since when?”

“Since...forever.”

With a tiny, quiet laugh, Holly shook her head. “Me too.”

“What?”

“Not only am I shit at communication, Harry,” she confessed, “but I suck at giving hints apparently.”

“No, I suck at taking them,” I giggled. “‘Cause I don’t recall any hints that you felt...any way about me.”

“See?” she threw up her hands again. “God, Harry, can you even imagine the feeling of being gutted when you’re crushing on your best friend and you walk in on him getting head from some other girl?”

Her words were like a knife right through my heart as I slowly closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m so very sorry, Hol.”

“The worst of it was that I had only invited Eric to the party to make you jealous.”

“What?” I asked again, my eyes popping open in disbelief.

“I was convinced you would never like me back the way I wanted you to. So because I knew you hated Eric, I reckoned you might take more notice if I got back together with him.”

“Holly, what the fuck?” I ran my hand down my face.

“I know,” she muttered. “Not my proudest moment.”

“Can we just erase that night out of our lives?” I suggested.

With a tight smile, Holly looked down at her new bracelet, tracing the plaits. “Maybe.”

“So, what do we do now?” I inquired.

“I don’t know that either,” she admitted. “This was rather sudden. To be honest, Harry, I’d thought I’d gotten over you. And then you-”

Her words were interrupted by my sudden kiss. Soft and tender, it was a quick kiss, though I could feel her sigh against me.

“What was that for?” she breathed.

With a smirk, I raised my brows and pointed at the ceiling. “Mistletoe.”

“Oh.”

“You were saying?”

“I…” she began, a dreamy look in her eyes, “don’t remember.”

I pulled her into my arms then and kissed her with purpose, doing my best to replace all the time that we’d lost. I knew it would take years to even get close, but I was willing to try.

I felt Holly’s hand slide down my arm and grab my hand before she pulled back. With swollen lips and a look in her eyes I’d ever seen before, she led me toward her bedroom, closing the door behind us.

With only a lamp lighting the room, I joined her on the bed, kicking off my shoes. We made out like teenagers - as though the years had not made any difference in how we felt or what we wanted. The only real difference was that I was no longer afraid to let it be known.

My head spinning and my heart pounding, I suddenly felt Holly press a hand against my chest.

“Harry? Let’s not make this a bad fanfiction, okay?”

I chuckled in disbelief. “What?”

“You know, the friends-to-lovers trope, where we finally have sex and at the end, we just assume everything ended splendidly like a fairy tale.”

“Well, love, I was kinda hoping it will,” I stated honestly.

Holly tilted her head, her soft hair falling against the pillow and her shoulder, her expression both innocent and seductive. I had to bite my lip.

“I think you know what I mean.”

“Okay,” I grinned. “So how should it end, then?”

“Well…,” she sighed, the vibration against my chest causing me to take a breath. “It seems rather silly to say we should take it slow given that…”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“But how about we ease into it? See what happens.” She ran her delicate hands up my biceps, her suggestion nearly being blanketed by her touch.

“That seems like a good idea,” I agreed as I leant forward and kissed her inviting lips again. She hummed low as I separated our kiss, taking a moment before opening her eyes. Then grasping at a curl near my ear, her eyes danced as she wrapped it around her finger.

“How does one tell her best friend that she loves him?” she suddenly asked.

A wide grin spreading across my face, I let my fingers trace the side of her beautiful face.

“I reckon you just did, my love.”

I kissed her deeply then, her fingers tangling tighter in my hair. Mistletoe or not, I knew in that moment that I could continue to kiss her forever, if she let me. When I felt her leg slide against my hip, however, and she gasped against my mouth, I knew we should return to our original vow.

“We should probably get back to the party,” I admitted.

“Hmm, yeah,” Holly nodded with a sigh. “Let’s do that before my dad calls out a search crew.”

I laughed against her neck, feeling her giggle rise from her throat. Giving it a few more pecks, I finally lifted my head to look at her pretty, glowing face.

“Happy Birthday, Holly.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Playlist Drabbles #01

Writing random smut drabbles based on songs from my playlist (Solomon, Asmodeus, Mammon)

"We don't gotta be in love, no,

I don't gotta be the one, no,

I just want to be one of your girls tonight."

(One of your girls - Weekend ft. Jennie, Lily-Rose Depp)

Solomon is just happy you're here with him right now. Wrapped up only in his bedsheets and his arms. He can't sleep, no it would be a waste. He needs to cherish this - he won't have it for very long.

When you're both back home, you'll be surrounded by everyone again. He will never be your only one - not with those brothers in the competition. But he is one of the many that gets to feel your warmth and affection and for now, this is all he needs. It's more than he can hope for.

"MC? You're still awake aren't you?" He coos softly knowing you're not asleep yet either.

"Yes, just like you." You say, tracing the bags underneath his eyes with your pretty fingers. He can feel his heart melting. What a lovely apprentice he has.

"Can we go...one more time?" Slowly, his hand traces your curves, so you can refute him anytime. But you clench your thighs around his waist and kiss him on the mouth, smiling.

"I'd like that." You say coyly. His eyes darken in desire as he climbs on top of you, positioning himself between your legs. He's not the only one that does this to you - but it's just been you and him every night since you came here. He'll have to give that up soon - but atleast not yet. Atleast not tonight.

"Please tell me I'm your one and only,

Or lie and say atleast tonight,

I've got a brand new cure for lonely,

And if you give me what I want,

I'll give you what you like."

(Give you what you like - Avril Lavigne)

Asmo doesn't always like using his powers. Why did he always have to use them to make people like him? Wasn't he enough just as he was? Wasn't he beautiful?

Who else can answer him, if not the only person who doesn't get affected by his charm. "MC..." He barges into your room, desperate to be held. To be loved.

"Asmo...you're so perfect." You cradle his face as you ride him. Tears pool at the corner of his eyes, out of joy, out of reassurance along with the obvious pleasure of your walls clamping down on him.

"MC...You really mean that?" Like a wounded puppy he tilts his head to the side, intertwing his fingers with yours. He bucks up his hips upward, deeper inside you. You moan and struggle to balance yourself.

"Of course, Asmo..." He doesn't care even if you're lying at this point. It just feels good to even hear you say that. He feels so loved and ethereal as you gently press kisses on his neck and shoulders so you don't blemish his flawless skin. And he impatiently flips you around to return the favor.

"With all the lights off,

Everything is wrong, but it's alright,

Everything is wrong, but it's alright,

You're the only good thing in my life."

(You're the only good thing in my life - Cigarettes after Sex)

Mammon feels like shit some days. With his sin taking over, Lucifer's overbearing rage, his brothers' disappointment - it's all too much for him. Sick of being holed up in his room, he decides to get out of house to clear his head.

You are late that day, and he's already disgruntled about it. Maybe he'll go out and fetch you himself. Some attendant you are. They should increase your hours at HOL.

But lo and behold, there you are standing right at the door. "Hey Mammon, going somewhere?" He takes you by the hand and leaves the house. "Oi, you know Devildom like the back of your hand, don't ya? Take me somewhere new." He asks.

You take him to a hotel with a shimmering pool. He's never been here before, but he feels an odd sense of familiarity with it. Especially when he kisses you fervently, his hands practically ripping your clothes off you. He feels so much better once he's inside you.

"The Great Mammon likes this place. Bring me back here again soon." He says as he keeps driving with one hand on your thigh. His life might be a hot mess but atleast you're here. And that makes everything so much better.

[jeonhwang]

Wonwoo + warmth

pairing: wonwoo x fem reader

[ 🤍 ]

You jolted awake, feeling super cold that goosebumps instantly arose on your skin.

Today was an okay day, not hot but not cold either, so you went to bed with your thinner pajamas set, the one with short shorts because it seemed like it didn't matter hours ago, but now you regret it as you were shaking from the cold.

But wait. You remembered your boyfriend.

Wonwoo couldn't make it for dinner so you left food for him on the dining table, deciding that you could just go to sleep without him. He was not a big fan of cuddling but never said no to you whenever you wanted to. Not like you were going to stick to him like glue the moment he lay down (yes, that was exactly what you did every single time). So you didn't see why you can't go to bed early just because he was late.

Lo and behold, you did need him.

Looking around for Wonwoo, your eyes landed on his broad back, which was facing you. He seemed fine, his blanket covering the lower half of his body. Was he not cold?

Now, everyone in your circle knew Wonwoo gets cold easily. He would often shove his hands into your pocket to warm them up. When it was winter, at least two heat packs were compulsory, one in each pocket to help him fight the cold. You on the other hand were fine with your gloves but he always insisted that you bring heat packs too because he would never give you his (that was a lie).

Pulling yourself to snuggle behind him, you could already feel the heat radiating from him. Still, it wasn't enough so you wrap your arms around his torso, pulling the blanket to cover the both of you.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you smiled to yourself, pushing your cheek against his broad back, finally feeling content. His smell, his soapy smell was a bonus. You could sniff him all night long while trying to warm up. What could get worse?

Until minutes later, Wonwoo waking up, feeling super warm, he had a thin layer of sweat on his neck. Groggy and sleepy, he tried turning around, pushing the blanket further when he felt something heavy leaning behind him.

Snuggled behind him, trying to get his warmth, there you laid just innocently, your breathing soft as you drift into a deeper sleep.

Wonwoo didn't expect it, because he was feeling warm. Tonight's probably the warmest yet for the month, and he got a little confused as to why you were attached to his back.

Moving slowly to adjust his position, he pushed you slightly so that you'd lay on your back. When he succeeded, he got up to take off his shirt before tugging the blanket away from him. Only then he resumed to his position, laying on his side to face you.

Wrapped in the blanket alone, your chest visibly move as a sign of breathing, and it got him into a deep thought.

His eyes trailed to your features, crossing his arms as he leaned closer. How did someone like you, ended up with someone like him? Whatever did he do, that made you fall for him? He was known as a cold bastard, literally and figuratively. None has ever impressed him enough to get him to treat them better though.

None until you. You came just out of nowhere. Being friends with Seungkwan, the social butterfly, one can already guess your personality. Well not really, because Seungkwan friends were just so loud, and irritatingly sarcastic. You on the other hand, were a lot calmer and gave more reactions rather than blabbering out loud like them.

Seungkwan mentioned how you were the level headed one in the group, and it wasn't until a debate between Mingyu and you did he learned that you were familiar of many things. You could just talk about anything, the knowledge that you had was so impressive he had to squeeze in a conversation with you.

From there, it bloomed into a friendship, until you two were inseparable. He learned a lot about you. You dislike chocolate. You didn't hate it because hate is a strong word, you dislike it. Anything neon pink on you is a no-no. Pastel pink, yes. He also knew how you hate it when people handled your books roughly. Yes. You were a reader, just like him too. Which blew his mind. Well he should've guessed by how fluent you were in whatever topic thrown at you. It was a big giveaway to be honest. How you were so eloquent with your words, your diverse knowledge in so many things. You might not know everything, but you have insights and opinions of your own. It was such a turn on for him.

Smiling to himself at the thought, he pushed away a strand hair on your face, and realized you were sweating too. All the snuggling and heat got to you.

He pushed the blanket away, letting you cool down on your own and kissed the side of your head sweetly. He tried to not latch onto you, only resting his palm on your tummy, drawing circles with his thumb.

He got lucky with you, couldn't wait to have kids with you. There was a research saying that kids take over the intelligence of their mother. Bet his children will be smart as hell. Smirking to himself at the thought, almost shyly, he snapped back to reality. Your sleeping figure lay static, unaware with full bliss of the night, he whispered.

"Sleep tight baby. Though, I bet you'd be so happy if you can see me shirtless now."

[blindbatalex]

bruins hrpf recs from the server #5

Hello again! The theme for this week was ✨ a fic that broke your heart ✨ Below are our recs:

rec lists so far: || week 4 || week 3 || week 2 || week 1 ||

A (Little) Slice of Heaven by Anonymous || willypasta || 11,541 words || reccer's notes: this fic rewired my brain. I read it months and months and months ago and I have yet to recover. 11/10 I come back to it way more than I probably should

(and i’ve got a plane to catch) you drove me all the way back by @fvcking-damage || mcgryz || 2,862 words || reccer's notes: this is some self-indulgent mcgryz angst i wrote a couple of years ago, idk what i was writing out with this one but. yeah

and turns to dust by adjacently || Jordan Eberle/Taylor Hall || 2,130 words || reccer's notes: i can eat taylor hall angst for breakfast, lunch, and dinner

between your love and mine by @blindbatalex || willypasta || 6,360 words || reccer's notes: This is a story about trying to reconcile two sides of your identity that are at irreconcilable conflict with one another, and what having your wings clipped like that at a young age does to a person.  I certainly broke my own heart while writing it.

dancing by @rasksmoustache || marcheron || 1,111 words || reccer's notes: This fic is so vivid and visceral and sad, it permanently altered my brain chemistry.  Unrequited (but is it really?) marcheron which gets the feeling of loving someone and being just a little too late so so well

Done & Undone by @ghostgeno || marcheron || 14,428 words || reccer's notes: 2023 Game 7, the aftermath. Fair warning: I don’t reread this very often because of how effectively it puts you in Brad’s headspace immediately after the game, in brutal, excruciating detail. And yet. And yet. If you feel like being taken apart and then put back together, if you want to feel all the loss and tenderness and love that remains despite the loss, read this fic.

good at secrets by @fridgefishwrites || prefix boys; mcgryz || 4,017 words || reccer's notes: this fic meant (and means) so much to me because it just gets what trying to live your life and build something beautiful while faced with unrelenting homophobia is like.  I love the non-linear narrative and the prefix boys but it was always Matt who stole the show for me in this story

like a stranger by blindbatalex || marcheron || 13,142 words || reccer's notes: not a fic alex hasn't read before (sorry bud) but i'm Obsessed with fics where the characters talk past each other and the angst compounds and this fic is a perfect example of that, amongst other things!!!

make no apologies by @sphesphe || marcheron || 3,757 words || reccer's notes: Brad gets himself suspended before the Winter Classic and Patrice takes it harder than he thinks he should.  He plays it off as fine, things happen, just be better Marchy but it isn't true. He's angry. After the game, Brad stops by, they have a talk and lo and behold, feelings emerge! (And much more!)

Sixth Borough by bookhousegirl || Jimmy Hayes/Frank Vatrano || 3,067 words || reccer's notes: The third in a trilogy of fics featuring this pairing. This is a very quiet little vignette featuring two former Bruins who were not stars and did not end up experiencing great success in their time here. It exists entirely in the gray of adult complications and disappointments, and refuses any easy catharsis, and is beautiful for those reasons. For those of us who cared about the Bruins in the (relatively) dismal era between 2015-17 it may come across as a tiny time capsule; for everyone else, I hope the delicate way it honors the hopes and dreams of those who don’t become hometown heroes, who don’t get the happily everafter ending, stays with you.

Westward Expansion by bookhousegirl || Jimmy Hayes/Frank Vatrano || 3,625 words || reccer's notes: Jimmy stares out vacantly at the coaster climbing the track. “Just because we’re from the same place doesn’t mean we’re from the same place.” When Frank takes Jimmy to Six Flags, he expects it to be a fun day, showing Jimmy all the rides he used to love growing up. Jimmy is distracted though, melancholy because Frank has so much promise and Jimmy took so long to get to where he is.

Wolverine Feed by @sphesphe || swaymark || 10,659 words || reccer's notes: fic that makes me ill each and every time i think about it

[tinyidle]

Okay I need somebody to hop on this idea. 🙏 Hongjoong being in the studio late and you coming to visit him. The second I saw this photo I imagined his gf going to his studio and he kisses her like that. The kiss starts being cute and ends up in full on making out session, and they end up on the couch. From fluff to full on smut. I'm on my knees for this man. 🧎‍♀️ I would write something about this but it's been a long time and I'm scared. 😅 If somebody writes something please tag me. 🙏

if you haven't, read @mi-to-the-a's fic on this idea. this is my interpretation for the idea.

After Hours - KHJ

wc: 1.4k

WARNING: so much fluff, smut, kisses, heavy petting, kinda messy ngl, grinding, slight dumbification, fellatio, cowgirl (but barely because my man's was abt to bust), missionary (that's always fun), praise + encouraging words, slight begging, b!gd¡ck joong because we always love him, producer!joong, switch!dom!joong, girlfriend!reader, switch!sub!reader, fem reader

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you got a ping from your instagram. a notification from ateez_official; great. you look at the post pings, and-- lo and behold, it was your boyfriend in the studio. he told you earlier that he would be late once again there, so as per usual, you waited until 2 am for him to send you a text message of him coming to your house so you could spend the rest of the night with him. seeing these pics, however, you knew that tonight would be a longer night than usual. you decided to pack up as many small items you could before heading to your car and driving to the studio.

showing your designated ID to security and once again ID'ing yourself at the front desk, you quietly opened the door to a concentarated and half sleepy kim hongjoong. he looked very focused on getting a certain chord right, repeating a random rhyme scheme multiple times and recording his voice over it before deciding to put the vocal jumble into actual words for a potential demo.

he turned around a bit to get his nearly cold coffee on the nearby coffee table when he saw you, slightly startling him a bit before smiling up at you and motioning you to come near his swivel chair. "hey, baby," he greeted you, kissing your cheek when you sat on his lap. "what are you doing here, after hours?"

"well," you began to respond as you played with his already disheveled hair from the constant focus-targeted tugging," i saw that you posted what you were up to and decided to pay you an early visit before you came home." you gave him small yet passionate pecks of genuine affection that equated to 'i miss you so much that i refuse to fall asleep alone at 2 am'.

hongjoong's smile grew into a small smirk. he loved whenever you came late into the studio. of course, he never made you do it or coerce you, but being the wonderful girlfriend you are, you couldn't fathom purposefully knowing that your boyfriend has some stress that he needed to release. he knew that, and loved that caring nature about you; just as much as you did with him.

and tonight was no different. "thank you for always being a big part of why im always at peace," he gratefully said to you, kissing an exposed part of your neck after you two shared some kisses with each other. the same part he knows can turn you on in seconds, especially when it came to him. "can i give you what you give me every time i feel burdened?" throughtout his request hongjoong kept kissing all over your neck while running his hands over your clothed thigh as the other rested comfortably on his lap.

you were now breathing heavily, letting out small whimpers as hongjoong lightly bit the same part of your neck that triggers your intense want for him. you could feel how constricted his sweats were getting on his pelvic area right against your ass, and he could feel your skin heating up-- an all too-well sign of you being wet for him.

now with one of his hands now coming up to the sides of your neck while the other gets a good grip on your hip, hongjoong slowly grinds your comfy yet compressed bottoms onto each other. by now your panties and leggings have soaked through and can now be felt onto your boyfriend's obvious bulge. "well?" hongjoong asked, snapping you out of your trance as he too was breathing heavier than usual. "can i, love?"

nodding while doing your best to take off what you could without getting off your boyfriend's lap, you confirmed. "please show me how at ease i make you. please joongie."

with a simple groan, hongjoong took off his shirt to match with your now topless figure, and did his best to pull down his sweats along with your bottoms without pulling you off of him. when his erection was in full view, you sank down to your knees, leaving his once warm lap now into an annoying cool sensation.

as the man hissed and was about to ask you to get back on, his complaints were quickly replaced with a satisfied moan as you sank your mouth onto his length. "oh my go-" he groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as you worked him up to moistness. even thought you told him that he can treat you, you just couldn't help but want to treat him. he is such an amazing leader, producer, rapper, singer, songwriter, friend, boyfriend; you just couldn't want to spoil him before he spoils you.

just when you were about to attempt to deepthroat him, he stopped you. you pouted at him as he chuckled and wiped away some of the drool that trailed on your chin from how wet you made his length. "you know how much i like when you blow me," he thanked you, to which you smiled like you were being congratulated for passing an important exam. "but i want to treat you. so get up on me," he demanded, hand on his soaked shaft while you got up and hovered over him with your equally soaked center.

"ready?" hongjoong asked you as he held himself up for you. it was always so endearing to you that he always asked, even though he knew both of you wanted and were ready for this. a selfless man who needs to be spoiled, you think.

gathering your thoughts so that you don't keep the man waiting, you answer, "yes. fill me up, joongie." your boyfriend nodded as he helped ease you down on his length. it was always a challenge for him to fit you, but you always made it work through his reassuring words. once you sat completely on his lap again, you allowed yourself to throb, elliciting a moan from both of you.

"fuck, baby," hongjoong groaned, holding your hips as you grinded them along him. he was feeling a bit too sentimental today and does not want to finish too soon. he lifted himself up from the chair, carrying you with him as you squeal from the sudden movement, and rest you back on the rather huge couch behind the small coffee table. "i have to fuck you like this. i don't want to cum too early."

"okay, joong- uhh fu-" just when you were about to reassure him that you dont mind and that he could do whatever he wanted, he went on a moderate yet deep pace. it only took a couple strokes and you could feel everything: his cock deep within your walls, the small bump of his head nudging your pelvic floor to where you could see him in your stomach, and your cunt stretching wide open every time your boyfriend thrust forward. needless to say, you were dangerously close.

hongjoong could tell by the way you could barely speak and had your mouth open as small groans and whines left your needy mouth. leaning down to give it a kiss, he started to encourage you while his thumb went down to rub your aching clit, causing you to jolt. "come on, baby. focus on how good you feel and how bad you want to let go. do it for me, cum for me."

you found your voice again after the encouragers and moaned aloud, "oh fuck, joongie im cumming!" you held onto your boyfriend arms as tightly as your orgasm rolled over you like a mighty wave, almost blinding you of your sense of self while your back arched off the couch.

your boyfriend was there to ride you through it, all while casually chasing his own release. "shh shh, i got you," he guided your body down the waves of your high as he pressed himself to you, spilling inside of you without you feeling anything short of satisfaction.

once both of you calmed down your storm of emotions and pleasure, what was left behind was a comforting stillness.

you lay beside each other, your skin sticky with sweat, your breathing finally slowing to a steady rhythm. hongjoong's fingers found yours, intertwining them with his as he pressed a tender kiss to your now darkened lips.

"i love you," he whispered, his voice a gentle lullaby similar to that of his music.

"i love you too," you replied, your words a soft melody in the aftermath of passion.

imagine not being down bad for this man-

anyway, hope you liked it!

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms: Aemond POV

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Ten

“Nyke jiōragon rhēdan lo nyke istan ao.” I’d get started if I were you.

Watching her deliver blow after blow to Aegon was a sight to behold. Each punch, each kick resonated like a symphony of beautiful music to his ears. The sound of Aegon's cries mingling with the impact of Maera's strikes created a macabre melody that filled the air, and every splash of blood seemed to paint a vivid tableau of retribution.

Despite the violence unfolding before him, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over him. Duty and loyalty to his family, as well as his affection for his mother, had restrained him from taking such action himself. But witnessing Maera exact justice upon Aegon, the woman bound to him through prophecy, felt like the ultimate vindication.

In Aemond's mind, Aegon was unworthy to rule. While the crown may have been his by birthright, Aemond saw himself as the true heir, possessing the temperament and skill that Aegon sorely lacked. Aemond embodied everything Aegon was not: strength, intelligence, and a sense of duty to his family and his realm. Seeing Maera deliver Aegon's comeuppance only reinforced Aemond's conviction that the crown rightfully belonged to him. With his queen by his side.

Watching her reach for her dagger beneath her skirts, Aemond knew instinctively that it would be a step too far. Despite the monstrous nature of Aegon's actions, he was still his brother, and moreover, the King. He couldn't shake the image of his mother's tears for the late Prince Lucerys, and the thought of her grief if he stood idly by and watched his brother be murdered was unbearable. With a sense of urgency, Aemond approached Maera and forcefully yanked the dagger out of her hand. She was furious, her rage clouding her judgment in that moment, likely fueled by her Targaryen heritage and the intensity of the situation.

When the door began to jiggle, signaling the imminent arrival of guards, Aemond acted quickly. Without hesitation, he seized Maera and dragged her towards the concealed tunnels, determined to prevent them from being caught. Despite her resistance and continued struggles, Aemond remained resolute, his focus unwavering as he sought to extricate them from the volatile situation, sparing a fleeting glance back at Aegon's beaten form before disappearing into the shadows of the passageways.

Dragging Maera through the secret corridors, he navigated the labyrinth with ease, their walls adorned with ancient stone carvings and flickering torches casting dancing shadows upon the damp stone floors. These passages were familiar to Aemond, known like the back of his hand, having studied them since he was a child—a pursuit that Aegon had never bothered to undertake. Unlike his brother, who only knew the passageways to his chambers and the exit of the Keep, Aemond had explored every nook and cranny, mastering the intricate network of hidden pathways that wound their way beneath the Red Keep.

Reaching a more open passageway with a dim flicker of light filtering through a distant opening, Aemond stole a moment to observe Maera. She was still breathing heavily, her hands pressed against her thighs as she attempted to steady herself. The lingering effects of anger and adrenaline left her trembling, and Aemond couldn't help but find her vulnerability endearing.

Noticing that she had yet to fully settle, Aemond gently grasped Maera's chin and lifted her face to meet his gaze. He drank in every detail of her features: the depth of her forest green eyes, the gentle slope of her nose, the rounded reddened cheeks flushed with exertion, and the slight purse of her lips as she endeavored to sync her breathing with his own. In that intimate moment, as their eyes locked in silent understanding, Aemond knew they were one of the same, two sides of the same coin. Meant to be.

As Maera eventually calmed down, her initial rage giving way to a more subdued demeanor, she unleashed a barrage of critical words laced with sarcasm directed at Aemond. “Was that too much for you to stomach, my Prince?”

Despite her biting remarks, Aemond struggled to hide a smirk, finding amusement in her fiery spirit even in the midst of turmoil. "Oh, forgive me, Lady Maera, but I couldn't just stand by and allow you to kill the King," he scoffed, his one eye narrowing in disapproval.

However, when the gravity of what she had done to Aegon dawned upon her, Maera's demeanor shifted once again. Instantly, she turned her blame on Aemond, accusing him of allowing her to take her vengeance too far. Aemond couldn't help but jest in response, attempting to lighten the mood, yet when he saw the worry etched in her eyes, he reassured her with a solemn promise—he would not let anything happen to her. After all, she was his, bound to him by the gods.

Their moment of reassurance, however, was short-lived, as she began to frantically pat at her chest, causing Aemond to raise his brow. "What's wrong?"

"It’s gone," Maera replied, her voice tinged with panic. "My necklace, my mother's necklace."

Aemond's posture stiffened at the implication— if evidence of her presence was found in Aegon's room, it would mean grave consequences for Maera, potentially leading to the executioner's block.

Despite Aemond's reassurances that they would find the missing necklace, Maera seemed resigned to her fate—death at the end of a sword. With a heavy heart, she tossed the remaining piece of her mother's necklace down the dark tunnel, hurt evident in her green eyes. Then, without a word, she stormed away, leaving Aemond to chase after her, his pleas falling on deaf ears as she refused to respond, fleeing from him.

In the days that followed, Aemond searched tirelessly in Aegon's chambers, scouring every inch in a desperate attempt to find the missing piece of Maera's necklace, but his efforts proved fruitless. Meanwhile, Maera isolated herself in her rooms, refusing to spar with him at dawn and rejecting any visitors who sought her company.

However, one day as Aemond traversed the passageways, a glint of metal caught his eye. Rushing towards it, his heart soared with relief as he discovered the missing piece of Maera's necklace lying abandoned on the ground. Though broken and tarnished, Aemond knew how precious the heirloom was to her, and he could only imagine the regret she must have felt in her moment of frustration when she cast it away.

Pocketing the small golden chain, a sudden angered voice through the walls drew Aemond’s attention upward. Intrigued, he followed the sound through the winding corridors until he reached a door. Opening it, he found himself in the Small Council chambers, with his elder brother Aegon ranting and raving near the grand table.

The cuts and bruises on Aegon's face were still dark shades of blue and purple, a stark reminder of the violence inflicted upon him. It brought to mind the state his sister, Helaena, had been in after Aegon's attack, serving as a grim testament to the justification of Maera's actions. Opposite the pacing King stood Lord Commander Criston Cole and the Hand, Lord Otto, who were attempting to placate Aegon, their efforts proving futile in the face of his fury.

"I'm going to kill her. I'm going to fucking kill her!" Aegon's voice reverberated with rage, his fists clenched in fury.

Aemond closed the secret door behind him, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Gods, I thought something had actually happened from all that screaming." He cast a wry glance at Lord Otto and Ser Criston, who looked relieved at his arrival, grateful for the assistance.

"Don’t tell me one of your whores has given you an ailment again," Aemond quipped, his tone laced with sarcasm as he addressed his older brother.

Aegon's anger was palpable as he stormed towards his younger brother, jabbing a finger into Aemond's chest with each word. "Maera. Fucking. Wylde."

The one-eyed Prince felt his heart stop. Surely Aegon had not actually seen Maera do this to him? And if he had, did the King know his own brother bore witness, and even encouraged, the attack? A surge of apprehension washed over Aemond, but he maintained his composure. "What about her?" he inquired calmly, meeting Aegon's gaze evenly.

Aegon stepped back, gesturing dramatically to his battered and bruised face. "She did this to me!" The King's accusation hung heavy in the air as he turned to address Lord Otto and Ser Criston. "She made her way into my room and did this to me!" His voice cracked with indignation, seeking validation for his outrage.

As Aegon's accusation hung in the air, there was a palpable silence from the Lord Commander, while the Hand of the King emitted a silent scoff, betraying a hint of disbelief. Aemond noted their apprehension to contradict their king, but he remained resolute, prepared to deceive and undermine if necessary.

"Absurd," Aemond asserted, shaking his head incredulously. "Have you been indulging in the herbs and spices of Flea Bottom again?" His tone carried a hint of disbelief, a subtle attempt to cast doubt on Aegon's accusation.

"I know it was her," Aegon growled in response, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

Aemond simply crossed his arms, adopting a stance of skepticism. "How?" he pressed, his voice laced with curiosity.

Aegon reached into his pocket and produced a golden chain adorned with sapphires—the missing half of Maera's necklace. Ser Criston's eyes widened in recognition, and Lord Otto let out a gasp of astonishment. Aemond, however, tensed his jaw, his mind racing as he realized the gravity of the situation.

The discovery of the necklace provided damning evidence against Maera, placing her in imminent danger. Despite the mounting pressure, Aemond knew he had to remain composed, unwilling to give anything away that could further jeopardize Maera's safety. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Aemond knew he had to tread carefully. "The King of the Seven Kingdoms was beaten to a bloody pulp... by a girl?" he remarked incredulously, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Aegon's frown deepened at Aemond's comment. “You think this is funny?!” he snapped, his anger flaring.

Aemond attempted to hide a smirk, choosing instead to redirect the conversation. “Not at all, brother. I’m merely speculating what the Realm would think if this became public knowledge,” he replied smoothly, his tone measured.

Ignoring Aemond's jest, Aegon turned his attention to the Lord Commander, his command ringing through the room. “Take her head.” A sense of urgency washed over Aemond as he locked eyes with Ser Criston Cole, silently pleading for restraint.

Ser Criston himself seemed hesitant, attempting to reason with the King. “We still need the fleet she possesses, my King,” he interjected, his voice strained with caution.

Aegon laughed dismissively. “If she is dead, there will be no heir, will there? Then we can have it anyway,” he declared callously, his determination unwavering. Aemond's expression hardened at the King's words, his mind racing as he contemplated their next move in the face of Aegon's ruthless decree.

In the midst of the charged atmosphere, the Hand's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "A king who executes his own subjects will not win the love of his people," Lord Otto interjected firmly, his posture reflecting years of experience and wisdom.

Aegon's response was swift and resolute. "It will win me their fear," he declared, his voice tinged with unwavering determination.

A weary sigh escaped Lord Otto, his expression betraying a sense of concern. "You need both fear and love to rule, Aegon," he reasoned, his words carrying the weight of caution.

Aemond shook his head to himself at his grandfathers words, his mind filled with a litany of unspoken criticisms. A good king needed to possess strength, intelligence, and a deep sense of duty—qualities that Aegon glaringly lacked. Aegon’s selfishness and lack of interest in his birthright contrasted sharply with Aemond's dedication to their family and the realm.

Aegon’s debauchery and irresponsibility stood in stark opposition to Aemond's discipline and strategic mind. Aemond saw himself as a protector of the Targaryen legacy, someone who valued honor and possessed the will to lead with both justice and ruthlessness where necessary.

If the witch had been correct, Aemond mused, Maera by his side would be the catalyst for a formidable rule. Together, they could command the love and fear of the people, securing their loyalty and respect. Maera’s fierce spirit and his unwavering determination would complement each other, bringing forth a great dynasty that would restore the Targaryen name to its former glory. Aemond envisioned a future where their combined strengths would usher in an era of prosperity and power, a legacy that would be remembered for generations.

As the room fell into a heavy silence, Aemond seized the opportunity to present his case, his voice cutting through the stillness with clarity and resolve. "I believe I have a solution."

The King, the Hand, and the Lord Commander turned their attention to Aemond, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, awaiting his proposal with bated breath.

"Give her to me," Aemond proposed boldly, meeting Aegon's gaze with an unwavering stare.

Aegon's scoff of disbelief rippled through the room, but Aemond pressed on, his conviction unshaken. "Marriage is the best way to secure alliances. And with the fleet as her dowry, we can match the Blacks at sea," he reasoned, his voice steady and persuasive. A glance at Lord Otto, the Hand, revealed a flicker of consideration in his eyes, hinting at the weight of Aemond's proposition.

However, Ser Criston, the Lord Commander, interjected with a furrowed brow, his concern evident in his tone. "Are you not already promised to a daughter of House Baratheon, my Prince?" he inquired, seeking clarity amidst the unfolding proposal. Aemond offered a reassuring nod, his confidence unwavering. "Daeron will take my place in the betrothal, so long as Lord Borros is in agreement," he explained calmly, earning a nod of approval from his mentor.

With all eyes now on Aegon, Aemond awaited his brother's response, though the soft smirk playing on Aegon's lips left him uncertain of its meaning. "Well, brother?" Aemond prompted, his gaze steady as he awaited Aegon's decision, the weight of their future alliances hanging in the balance.

His elder brother's expression was difficult to read, but the slow turning of the cogs in his mind was evident, and a devilish smirk soon crept onto his face. The sight of it made Aemond uncomfortable, a knot forming in his stomach.

Aegon's challenge cut through the air like a blade, his grin laden with mischief. "Are you that obsessed with getting your cock wet that your whore in Harrenhal is not enough for you?"

Aemond felt a surge of shock and indignation, his expression faltering at his brother's brazen accusation. The memory of Alys atop him surfaced, making him feel physically ill. Aegon's implication that Aemond derived some sort of sick pleasure from the situation was abhorrent. It was as if Aegon saw them as kindred spirits in their debauchery, a notion that Aemond found repulsive.

"How do you..." he began, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

"I am the King," Aegon declared slyly, his tone smug with authority. "No one even sneezes in this Realm without me knowing." Aegon took a step forward, his hand resting heavily on Aemond's shoulder. "And my, have I heard some tales about you and a whore in the Riverlands."

The one-eyed Prince clenched his jaw. Where Aegon indulged in reckless hedonism, Aemond sought discipline and purpose. His lying with Alys had been born of necessity and strategy, not depravity. The suggestion that he shared his brother's base instincts was an insult to everything Aemond believed about himself.

Aemond's gaze flicked sideways to the Lord Commander and the Hand, both men visibly uncomfortable in the face of the brothers' confrontation. Uncertainty gnawed at him, unsure whether their discomfort stemmed from the tension between him and Aegon or from the revelation of his tryst with Alys.

Unable to bear the weight of their scrutiny any longer, Aemond made a decisive move. "Leave us," he commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

The Lord Commander and the Hand exchanged glances, hesitating for a moment before acquiescing to Aegon's silent nod. Bidding the Targaryens a respectful nod, they scuttled out of the room, leaving the brothers alone in the echoing chamber.

Once they were gone, Aegon chuckled silently to himself, savoring the tension between them. He turned and approached the long table in the middle of the room, reaching for the jug of wine in the center. With a casual grace, he poured the rich red liquid into two goblets, his chuckles lingering in the air like a mocking specter.

Aemond watched him, his eye narrowing as he took in his elder brother's appearance. Aegon's short, wavy silver hair framed his face, his violet eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and malice. His fine black and green garments, tailored to perfection, spoke of his royal status, but it was the conqueror's crown atop his head that drew Aemond's focus. The ruby at its center caught the light from the window, sparkling malevolently, almost as if the crown itself were mocking him.

When the King attempted to give his brother a goblet of time, Aemond’s frustration boiled over. "I cannot believe you," he muttered, his tone laced with disappointment and rage. "I am your brother. I am helping you hold the throne. I have given my life to our House and never asked for anything in return. Yet you stand there and insult me, and will not even grant me one request."

"A request, is it, Aemond?" Aegon snickered, placing down the goblet he had previously offered, his amusement evident in his tone. "I thought this was purely based on strategy and for the good of the Realm." Aemond clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening as he met his brother's gaze, determined to assert his rightful place and secure the future of their House, even in the face of Aegon's mockery.

"Tell you what," he began, his voice teasing as he swirled the wine in his own cup . "I will grant this for you if you admit this is not for the crown, but for yourself. That this is born of personal desire." Aemond's jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration crossing his features at his brother's persistent teasing.

But Aegon remained undeterred, putting down his goblet, clasping his hands together in mock prayer and batting his eyelashes dramatically. "Come now, brother. Your King demands it," he pleaded, his tone laced with amusement. Aemond hesitated, grappling with his pride, but on the brink of destiny, he found himself willing to set it aside for the sake of his desires. "I want her," he admitted grudgingly, his admission tinged with reluctance.

Aegon's grin widened ear to ear at the stoic Prince’s admission. "Fine," he declared, causing Aemond's eye to widen in shock. The King's giggle filled the room as he continued, "I will have a raven sent to Lord Borros immediately, and if he allows Daeron to take your place, you may have her." Aemond couldn't believe his ears, his disbelief evident in his expression as he processed the unexpected turn of events.

Approaching his brother, Aegon placed both hands on Aemond's shoulders with a dramatic sigh. "My little brother, gone soft," he teased, his words eliciting a cringe from Aemond. But Aegon pressed on, his tone brimming with amusement. "I am sure you will whip her into shape once you are married," he added, his words dripping with condescension. “Poor girl. Her cunny is probably aching from not being touched. No wonder she is so hysterical and attacked me. She doesn’t know how to control herself.”

Aemond gritted his teeth at Aegon's insults, his fists clenching at his sides. The hypocrisy in Aegon's words was glaringly obvious to the one-eyed Prince. Aegon claimed Maera was out of control, yet he was the very person who had attacked his own wife so brutally that Maera had felt compelled to exact revenge on him in Helaena's name.

And just a few months ago, Aegon had attacked Maera herself. He could still picture the bruises that had marred her forearms from the brute force of the King’s attempt to dishonor her, a vile act to satisfy his own twisted needs. The memory of her suffering and the sight of her injuries had fueled Aemond's anger then, and it did so again now.

Aegon, standing there in his regal attire with the conqueror's crown atop his head, spoke of control and decorum, yet he was the one who lacked it the most. Aegon's reign was a constant display of reckless hedonism and violence, unbecoming of a true king. And yet, he still wore the crown, the symbol of Targaryen might and legacy. This incongruity enraged Aemond to his core.

Yet, in that moment, he remained silent, unwilling to risk Aegon rescinding his decree. In a hushed voice, the King issued his final orders. "Keep a muzzle on her once she is yours and we will have no problem," he instructed, delivering a hard pat on Aemond's back before exiting the room, leaving Aemond to grapple with the weight of his brother's decree and the unsettling implications of his words.

The week before Maera was summoned before the court by the King, Aemond once again struggled to sleep. His mind raced with a storm of thoughts and emotions that kept him restless through the nights. Maera continued to isolate herself, refusing to receive visitors after attacking Aegon. Aemond didn't even attempt to see her, knowing he couldn't forewarn her of the King's decree, despite his overwhelming desire to do so. He chose to stay away, feeling it was the lesser of two evils.

The Prince felt a myriad of conflicting emotions. Guilt gnawed at him for what he had done to Maera’s family to secure her by his side. He was ashamed of his liaison with Alys and the fact that his brother had discovered it. But most of all, he felt a deep-seated fear. He had not known fear since before he lost his eye, and now it clawed at him relentlessly.

This fear was not for the future, for he trusted that the Gods had a great plan for him. It was a fear born from Aegon's decree for Maera’s death. The prospect of losing her struck a chord within the stoic one-eyed Prince. It was a fear of losing Maera ever again, whether it be through her death, her departure, or her refusal to marry him. It was deeply personal and unsettling, born from a profound need for her presence in his life. It made him feel vulnerable and weak, emotions he hated but also paradoxically welcomed.

The intense and undeniable connection to the Lady of House Wylde frightened him to his core, making him question his own strength and resolve. The thought of a life without her was unbearable, and the uncertainty of her reaction to their betrothal left him feeling more exposed than any battlefield ever could. This fear, intertwined with his need for her, created a dissonance within him, making him both desperate and determined to possess her for his own, in order to protect her and ensure their destiny was fulfilled.

Then the day finally came. Aemond awaited the arrival of the Wyldes in the grand throne room, standing beside the formidable Iron Throne with his family. The throne room itself was a vast hall, with high vaulted ceilings supported by massive stone pillars. Rich tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen adorned the walls, their vibrant colors muted by the dim light filtering through the narrow windows. The floor was a mosaic of dark stone, polished to a sheen that reflected the flickering torchlight.

A large crowd of courtiers filled the room, their murmurs creating a low, persistent hum of anticipation. Nobles and knights, all clad in their finest attire, had gathered to witness the King’s decree. The tension in the air was palpable, with eyes constantly shifting between the Iron Throne and the entrance.

Seated upon the Iron Throne was Aegon, the Conqueror's crown perched arrogantly on his head. His violet eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and malice, and a smirk played on his lips as he awaited the proceedings. The throne, forged from a thousand surrendered swords, loomed ominously, its twisted metal and jagged edges a stark reminder of the power it represented. Aegon lounged with a casualness, one hand resting on the armrest, his posture exuding a sense of ease.

Aemond stood tall beside his grandfather Lord Otto, his gaze fixed firmly ahead, though his mind was a maelstrom of thoughts. His mother, the dowager Queen, stood nearby, her face regal and composed as always. Ser Criston Cole, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, was a silent, stoic presence, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

As the grand doors at the far end of the hall swung open, the room fell silent. All eyes turned to watch as the castle guards announced the arrival of the Master of Laws and his daughter, the Jewel of Rainwood, Lady Maera. Aemond watched as Maera walked beside her father through the throne room towards them, her presence commanding attention despite her apparent trepidation. She was dressed in her usual attire of turquoise and gold, her defiance evident in every stride she took.

Though her face was flushed with fear and her eyes wide with apprehension, when she stood before the Iron Throne, she glared defiantly at Aegon, offering him only a begrudgingly small curtsy. Even in the face of punishment, she refused to be broken. As the King toyed with Lord Jasper and his daughter, Aemond observed with a mixture of disdain and disgust. Aegon seemed to take pleasure in watching them squirm beneath him, reveling in his power to control the rise and fall of a House with a mere flick of his wrist. It was a display of cruelty that sickened Aemond, yet he remained outwardly composed, his features betraying none of the turmoil within.

It was evident that Maera and Lord Jasper had been expecting a dire outcome from these summons, their nervous energy palpable in the air. Yet as Aegon continued to speak, Lord Jasper's posture gradually relaxed, and Maera's agitation only seemed to grow.

When he was satisfied with the entertainment he provided himself with, Aegon then interlaced his fingers and rested them beneath his chin, adopting a casual yet commanding posture. "I would like to propose an offer of marriage," he announced with a glint of mischief in his eye, "between my brother, Aemond, and Lady Maera, elevating her to the esteemed title of Princess of the Realm."

The one-eyed Prince felt her heart pounding in his chest as gasps of surprise and intrigued murmurs rippled through the assembly like a gentle wave. Whispers of alliances and implications filled the air as the courtiers exchanged knowing glances and furtive gestures.

Though Lord Jasper attempted to act diplomatically and cite a previous pact Aemond had made with House Baratheon, Aemond could see the excitement gleaming in the Master of Laws' eyes when Lord Otto declared that the matter had been resolved. The prospect of securing such a valuable alliance seemed to outweigh any concerns Lord Jasper may have had about his daughter's happiness.

Aemond's one-eyed gaze landed on Maera, who appeared frozen in shock, her expression unreadable. Aemond couldn't discern how she felt about the news, which only added to his unease. He longed to know her thoughts in this moment, to understand what she truly desired amidst the political machinations of their family.

As he watched Lord Jasper drag his daughter to the floor with him as he kneeled, thanking Aegon for his generosity, Aemond stifled an eye roll. He had little interest in the opinions of the Master of Laws, but he was desperate to know what Maera was thinking in this pivotal moment. Her silence spoke volumes, leaving Aemond grappling with uncertainty and apprehension about the future that lay ahead for them both.

The King noticed the Lady’s apprehension, and used this to provoke her further. "Is there anything you wish to ask of me, dear sister?"

Aemond watched a shudder of disgust go through Maera’s body, but she hid it well from the eyes of the court. The silence stretched on as he intently studied her face, as if she was still processing what was happening, her expression a complex mix of emotions that he struggled to decipher.

Unexpectedly, Maera's gaze then met his own, her forest green eyes locking onto his with a fierce intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. In that moment, he felt ensnared by her gaze, drawn in by the depth of emotion he saw reflected there, like a mountain pool of a forest

"Is this what you want, my Prince?"

When Maera addressed him directly, instead of addressing the King first, Aemond felt a surge of anticipation mixed with apprehension. Her question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications, and Aemond knew that his response would carry weight not only with Maera, but with the entire court as well.

He maintained a diplomatic facade, his tone carefully neutral as he replied. "I shall do as my King commands, for the sake of the Realm."

His words may have appeared cold in the eyes of the court, but Aemond was determined to appear indifferent to Maera's presence. He understood all too well that she was not only his greatest strength, but also his greatest weakness. If their enemies were to perceive the depth of his feelings for her, they would undoubtedly seek to exploit it. Aemond could not bear the thought of Maera becoming a pawn in their political games, and so he masked his true emotions behind a veil of detachment, even though he yearned for her deeply.

With the match agreed to and a wedding date set, Aemond felt a sense of anticipation building within him. Each step brought him closer to uncovering the grand plan the Gods had in store for him, and with Maera by his side, he felt as though he was finally stepping into his rightful place in the world.

As Lady Maera and Lord Jasper departed, words of congratulations were offered to the Prince for the match. Aemond met these words with his usual stoic demeanor, but inwardly, he couldn't contain the surge of happiness that flooded through him. It was a feeling akin to the triumph he had felt the day he claimed Vhagar as his own, but even greater in magnitude. Finally, after years of waiting and striving, Aemond was on the cusp of attaining everything he had ever desired.

Notes: I had writers block and then the trailer dropped and gnhgnchdkfbfj!!!!!! Impatience is the word of the week in all aspects of my life and the new trailer is just adding to it!!

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[metalbvcky]

ten questions for writers

Thanks for tagging me @musette22!! 💖 These are always super fun!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

I recently hit 60!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

534,389

3. what fandoms do you write for?

MCU (Stucky). I haven't posted a Bloom poly fic with Loki in forever, but that'll change one day 😙

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Even with weeks of procrastination, yes! It takes me an hour if not longer to get through a handful or two of comments lol I love to ramble.

5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

UGH. Yeah, I have. It was 2020 and I was still new to writing in the fandom. and one day I was curious to google my username and... lo and behold someone on Wattpad copy/pasted my entire 54k Doctor Bucky fic. They also reposted a ton of other people's work, but thankfully Wattpad stepped in and everything down. I confronted this person too and they acted dumb like they didn't know it was mine 🙄 I even went to the lengths of messaging a few commenters who thought the reposter was me (the author) and one insulted me claiming "AO3 is too hard to use." Idiots!!

6. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet! Unless you count a few Bloom fics that spiraled out of control lolol.

7. what’s your all-time favourite ship?

One has a metal arm, the other has a giant shield. WHO COULD THAT BE??

8. what are your writing strengths?

Scenery descriptions? Humor, crack. Smut, I've definitely improved since five-ish years ago. Transforming a short oneshot into a long multichapter fic, if you want to include that LOL.

9. what are your writing weaknesses?

ENDING A STORY. They end like falling off a cliff sometimes, I swear, or it feels like it to me. Also: plot planning. I'm attempting to wrangle my next longfic in, and while I do have a good amount brainstormed, I still feel like I'll be winging it lol. Which isn't shocking or anything since I'm really a planster.

10. first fandom you wrote for?

Officially, Stucky. Unofficially... OCs for an online game that (technically) no longer operates. I will not go further than that lol.

Randomly tagging: @late-to-the-party-81 @blackwood4stucky @otpcutie @snarkythewoecrow @fsbc-librarian @apple-writes

[fatalbrutality]

syrupy situationship - chapter 3: the date

jey uso x rhea ripley

word count: 4.7k

crossposted from ao3 | series masterlist

summary: rhea and jey go on a date to waffle house.

notes: let me know what other wwe ships you like! i’ve been thinking about writing more

Rhea knew that Jey has been waiting a while for her to accept his offer, but she hadn’t expected him to text her mere hours after their phone call, with her already curled up under her hotel sheets. It was a simple message that cut straight to the chase: he sent her the location of the Waffle House along with the time—tomorrow morning at 9. She had smiled when she saw the notification come in at the top of her screen, and immediately texted back to confirm that she’ll be there. 

Now, it’s morning, and Rhea can feel her nerves eating away at her from the inside out. She has no idea why she’s feeling so anxious; it’s just a date. A date to piss someone else off, at that. Yet still, she finds her hands shaking as she attempts to apply her eyeliner and sweat forming under her arms despite her just putting on deodorant.

It’s probably just pre-date jitters. After all, she can’t even remember the last time she’s been on a date. Dom had stopped taking her out as much in the late stages of their relationship, and whenever they did go out the rest of the gang would typically tag along. Not very romantic.

Even then, it’s not like this is a real date, she has no reason to be nervous. 

She repeats it over and over again in her head like a mantra as she finishes putting the finishing touches on her makeup, giving herself a good look in the mirror. It’s nothing too crazy, they’re just going for breakfast. Her regular makeup look would probably be overkill, so she settles on some delicate eyeliner and tinted lip balm in place of her usual bold lipstick and lashes.

Her outfit is pretty casual as well, just a pair of black ripped jeans and a strappy black halter top. If she had more time, she probably would’ve chosen something else, but she’s running low on clean clothes and needs to do laundry soon. She thinks she still looks pretty good, anyway.

Once she’s sure she’s ready, she grabs her clutch to put her phone inside before heading next door to Damian’s room. Jey had offered to drive, but Priest insisted on driving her instead. She finds it quite silly, but she knows he still isn’t completely sold on Jey yet and is just looking out for her, so she’ll allow it.

Her hand comes up to tap her knuckles on Damian’s door three times, and the speed of which he opens it is almost comical. She snickers, folding her arms across her chest and raising her eyebrows at him.

“Nervous much?” Rhea asks.

Damian scoffs, exiting his room and closing the door behind him. “Mira quién habla. Your leg is practically vibrating.”

Rhea looks down, and lo and behold, her leg is indeed bouncing at a rapid pace. She sucks her teeth, forcibly stopping her leg from shaking. “Yeah, well you’re not the one going on a date for the first time in forever.”

They start walking down the hall towards the elevators, pausing while they wait for one to stop on their floor. 

“You know, if you wanna back out—”

“Hell no.” Rhea says, looking at Damian in disbelief. “I’m fine, seriously. Besides, if I don’t then it’ll be all I can think about for God knows how long. I have to get that little bitch back. For my own peace of mind.”

Damian sighs. “Okay. If you say so.”

“Just relax.” Rhea urges him as the elevator doors finally open and they step inside. “I’ve got it all under control.”

At least that’s what she hopes.

The Waffle House is about a thirty minute drive from the hotel, and Rhea finds herself physically unable to sit still for that entire half hour. Damian attempts to ease her up by talking to her and teasing her about the date. Rhea appreciates it, but the closer they get the more nervous she feels. She has her music blasting a little too loudly to drown out her thoughts, since there’s way too many of them running through her head that she needs to shut down before she gets there.

The last thing she needs is to go in there with a clouded mind. She has one clear goal: revenge.

She’s thought about different ways to go about it, but ultimately she settled on posting an Instagram story. It’s a good way to get the fans talking, and that way it’ll be impossible for Dom to avoid seeing it. After that, she’ll just have to wait for him to come to her. It would only be a matter of time, as she’s learned that Dom tends to act hastily when he’s jealous.

Soon enough, the Waffle House comes into view. Rhea travels a lot, so of course she’s seen one before, but never has she been inside one—much less eaten there. There’s big glass panes lining the exterior, showing what’s inside. It looks like any other typical American diner, from what she can see at least. Nothing special so far, but Jey seems to swear by this place, so she has high expectations.

They pull into a parking space, and once Damian parks the car, he turns to look at her. “All good?”

Rhea double checks to make sure she has everything in her clutch. “Yeah. Still just kinda nervous, though.”

Damian nods in understanding. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point, call me or text me and I’ll come get you. Okay?”

“Of course.” Rhea says, her lips quirking up into a smile. She can’t help it—it’s very sweet when Damian is in full-blown big brother mode. 

She says goodbye to him and gets out of the car, closing the door and taking a deep breath before making her way over to the front door. Pulling it open, she steps into the restaurant and is immediately hit in the face with the sweet-savory smell of bacon and maple syrup. She inhales deeply, taking a quick scan of the room. Just as she saw through the windows, it’s a very American-style restaurant, complete with a bar and those red diner booths that she’s seen in so many movies. Her nervousness seems to dissolve, that carefully crafted mask she wears coming back up as she looks around.

Movement in the corner booth catches her eye, and she turns her head to find Jey attempting to flag her down, waving at her with a big goofy grin on his face. Time seems to stop when she locks eyes with him, it finally setting in that she’s actually fucking doing this. No point in backing out now.

Snapping herself out of it, she allows herself to smile and wave back at him before making her way over to the booth. He already has a glass of orange juice in front of him, along with a couple of menus.

Her eyes rake over him, taking in his appearance and shamelessly checking out just as she did yesterday. His curls are shiny and defined like he just washed his hair, and he’s wearing a blue polo shirt with the buttons undone—showing a glimpse of the tattoos on his chest that Rhea’s mesmerized by. 

He’s got this small smile playing on his lips, and when she eventually locks eyes with him, he looks away nervously.

Rhea folds her hands on the table, tilting her head as she studies him a little longer, like a cat playing with its food. Jey’s eyes keep darting around the room—like he’s physically incapable of looking at her for longer than two seconds. Adorable.

She smirks. “I’m surprised you answered last night, I called pretty late.”

Jey jumps like he wasn’t expecting her to actually talk to him, meeting her gaze for the first time. His eyes are quite pretty, she notices. A gorgeous warm shade of brown, the color of how she likes her coffee. The way the sunlight pours in through the windows gives them a honeyed tint, and they have this glimmer to them as well; practically shining with excitement, and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t infectious.

“Nah, I’m always up pretty late nowadays,” Jey says, running his hand along his beard and raising his glass of orange juice to his lips. “Honestly, I was like, kinda shocked that you called. Uh, what made you finally decide to take me up on my offer? If you don’t mind me askin’.”

“I saw you in the gym and thought you looked hot.” Rhea says bluntly, causing Jey to choke and sputter on his juice. 

Well, it’s not like it’s a total lie.

“Oh—” Jey coughs as he wipes his mouth with a napkin before clearing his throat. “Sorry, uh—you saw me?”

“Yeah.” Rhea shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I was getting a workout in with Damian and saw you across the room. Looked like you were leaving though, so I decided to call later instead of going up and bothering you.”

Jey nods slowly, then smiles. “Nah, you’d never be bothering me, Mami.”

Hearing him call her that in person makes warmth bloom in her chest and heat rush to her face, causing her to flounder a bit as she thinks of what to say next. Her eyes land on the menu placed in front of her, which she gratefully looks down at and starts to skim through while she regains her composure. “So, what do you normally get here?”

“Me? I’m all about the triple hashbrown,” Jey says immediately, “but I’ve tried, shit, everything here, so gimme somethin’ that catches your eye and I’ll tell you if it’s good.”

Rhea’s pretty overwhelmed by all the choices. There’s about a million different things on it, and with how hungry she is it all looks really good. She’s never really been much of a breakfast person, to be honest—but those waffles she had yesterday were amazing, so that’s kinda what she’s craving right now.

“How’s the chocolate chip waffle?” Rhea asks, blinking up at him.

Jey grins. “Fuckin’ bangin’.” 

“Well then, I guess I’ll take one of those.” Rhea says, grinning back at him as she slides her menu to the edge of the table. 

Jey calls a server over to take their order, to which Rhea tells her she wants a chocolate chip waffle and a cup of coffee, and Jey orders those hashbrowns that he seems so excited about, along with some more stuff that makes Rhea’s stomach hurt just by hearing it. The server tells them their food will be right out, swiftly turning around and walking back over to the kitchen. 

Rhea rests her chin in her hands as she looks across the table at Jey, finding him once again avoiding her piercing stare as he chugs his orange juice. She can’t help but giggle and shake her head, which gets his attention.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“You.” she responds without missing a beat. “You asked me out, but it seems like you can’t even look at me…”

“Oh, trust me—I looked.” Jey says, then looks her up and down as if for emphasis, his gaze leaving her skin on fire in its path. “You look good.”

Jesus.

She can’t let him see that it affected her, so she straightens up before quickly giving him a onceover as well, biting her lip in the process. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Just seem a little…nervous, that’s all.”

“Well, yeah, I’m on a date with a beautiful woman. Can a man not be nervous?” Jey quips, raising his hands defensively.

Rhea rolls her eyes, but she’s unable to stop the smile pulling at the side of her mouth. “Okay—that’s fair, but you shouldn’t be. I promise I don’t bite…well, unless you want me to.”

For a second, she thinks that joke might’ve been too far, but Jey just raises his eyebrows at her. “On the first date? I mean, shit, I wouldn’t say no to you.”

She gasps, reaching across the table to swat his forearm. “I was kidding!” 

“I know, I know.” Jey chuckles, raising his hands defensively.

A light and airy silence passes between them for a moment, and she finds herself admiring Jey’s tattoos once again. Not even in an attraction kind of way really, but more of an appreciation. Of course, she has a deep love for tattoos and the stories and meanings behind them, and Jey’s obviously hold a great deal of significance to him. Unfortunately, he has a shirt on, so her view of the rest is blocked, but she still lets her eyes trace over the ones on his arms and the sliver she can see on his slightly exposed chest. 

“I love your tattoos.” Rhea blurts out before she can stop herself.

Jey looks up, slightly caught off guard for a moment before a prideful grin takes over. “Thank you, that means a lot. My guy Mike did them, he’s like family to me.” 

He runs his finger along the tattoos on his left arm, and Rhea follows the motion with her eyes. “Just means a lot to me, ya feel me? Like, being able to proudly represent my culture with artwork on my body, it’s just—such an amazing feeling.”

“Well, he definitely did a great job.” Rhea smiles. “I didn’t know if it would be weird to say anything, but I couldn’t stop staring at them, so.” 

Jey beams. “Nah, not weird at all. You got some pretty sick ink yourself.”

Rhea chuckles, flexing her tatted hand out in front of her. “Not quite as culturally significant as yours, but still pretty badass if I do say so myself.”

“Damn right.” 

Their food arrives right at the lull in the conversation, which Rhea graciously accepts by thanking the server and taking a sip of her coffee. Jey has already started digging in, eating like he hasn’t eaten in weeks and Rhea finds it slightly endearing. She adds some creamer into her coffee, giving it a stir before tasting it again. Much better.

The chocolate chip waffle in front of her is huge, a whole lot bigger than it looks on the menu. Rhea’s a little intimated, honestly. Again, she’s never really been much of a breakfast person; Damian was the one that got her into it in hopes of helping her establish healthier eating habits. It’s rare that she’ll even go out for breakfast without Damian, yet here she is—at a Waffle House with Jey Uso. 

Despite the daunting size of the waffle, it looks and smells delicious. She drizzles some syrup on top before picking up her knife and fork, cutting into the waffle and bringing a piece up to her mouth.

She swears the first bite tastes like heaven. The waffle is perfectly crunchy on the outside, and super soft and fluffy on the inside, and the chocolate chips? Fucking scrumptious. 

“Oh God,” Rhea moans, her eyes widening as a burst of flavor takes over her tastebuds. “You weren’t kidding, their food is actually good!”

“I’ve been saying!” Jey exclaims. “I don’t play about Waffle House, Mami.”

Rhea ignores that last part for her own wellbeing, fighting the fluttery feeling in her chest down with another bite of her waffle. She covers her mouth as she speaks, “Damn, all the time I spend on the road—I can’t believe I’ve never tried this place before.”

Jey smiles warmly. “Everybody’s gotta try Waffle House at least once. I’m just glad I got to be the one to bring you here for your first time.”

There goes that weird feeling again. What the fuck even is that? Butterflies? It’s hard to tell—it feels like the last time she felt butterflies in her stomach was an entire lifetime ago. And if they are butterflies, what the hell is she supposed to do about them? 

She doesn’t want to leave Jey hanging, so she smiles back as best as she can with her heart racing so fast that she’s slightly concerned. Her mask is slipping, and all she can do is hope he doesn’t notice and think up something witty or flirty to even the playing field. “I’m glad too. You’re an excellent breakfast date, Jey Uso.”

“Oh, so we’re pulling out the last names now?” Jey raises his eyebrows. “Two can play that game, Miss Ripley.”

Fuck.

Either it’s just been a while for Rhea, or that was unfairly hot. Or maybe a little bit of both. Regardless, it’s absolutely not helping her predicament. She’ll be damned if she lets him know how flustered he’s making her, though. She has to regain the upper hand somehow.

“I’m up for any game you want to play, Uso.” she shoots back with a smirk.

Jey doesn’t say anything this time, instead just looks away bashfully and hides half of his face while he takes a sip of his orange juice, looking a lot like he did when Rhea first arrived—all nervous and shy. Mission accomplished.

The rest of their breakfast goes by with minimal conversation as they both eat their food, with some upbeat song that Rhea’s never heard before playing over the restaurant speakers. When it does fall silent between them, it isn’t awkward or anything but rather…comfortable? It almost feels like going out to eat with Damian, but…different.

Rhea’s not quite ready to even attempt to unpack all that just yet, so she simply shovels a bunch of chocolate chips onto the piece of waffle she just cut off and stuffs it into her mouth. She’s almost finished, and despite Jey ordering much more food than her, he’s almost done as well.

“I’m trying the whole menu next time, I swear to God,” Rhea says in between bites, “I’ll have to come here again soon.”

Jey swallows before laughing. “Oh, don’t tell me that! Unless you’re cool with me tagging along.”

“Is that your way of asking me out on another date?”

“Shit, did it work?”

“…Maybe.” Rhea smiles coyly.

Jey giddily goes back to what’s left of his food as Rhea eats the final bite of her waffle before downing the rest of her coffee, all while trying to fight down that weird feeling in her chest once again. She refuses to even go there before noon.

The server comes back to their table with the bill, to which Jey whips out his card and hands it to the woman before Rhea can even say anything. She looks at him incredulously as the server walks away, only to be met with a confused face.

“I could’ve paid, you know.” Rhea says, waving her clutch to prove it.

“Now what kinda man would I be, making you pay on the first date?” Jey questions, tilting his head to the side.

Rhea doesn’t even have a response to that—just stares at him. She’s really not used to this sort of treatment; she’s always been the one to spoil her partner. To have it be the other way around…it’s a weird feeling, to say the least. A good feeling, but still…weird.

She doesn’t have time to dwell on it too much, because the server comes back and returns Jey’s card, signaling that it’s time to go. Jey stands up from the booth, Rhea following as she pulls her phone out to text Damian.

“Hey,” Jey says just as Rhea opens up her messaging app. “Uh, since we’re staying at the same hotel, did you wanna just ride back with me?”

Rhea blinks, not expecting the offer. Well, she probably should’ve, given that he did offer to drive to the restaurant. She glances down at her messages with Damian for a second before looking back up at Jey, who’s watching her curiously while he fiddles with his fingers. 

If she doesn’t take him up on his offer, she’ll have to wait for Damian, and she really doesn’t want to do that. It just makes a lot more sense to leave with Jey, that’s all. Damian definitely won’t like it, but oh well.

“Uhhh, yeah, sure.” Rhea finally decides, getting a smile and nod out of Jey. He leads the way, holding the door for her so they can step out into the parking lot and guides her to the black SUV parked at the end.

He unlocks the car so Rhea can get into the passenger seat, immediately buckling up and texting Damian so he knows that Jey’s bringing her back.

Rhea Don’t be mad But Jey’s driving me back

Not even a second goes by and her phone pings with a text from Damian.

Damian WHAT

Rhea barely manages to hold back a snicker, quickly typing out a reassuring reply before Damian can continue.

Rhea I’m FINE I’ll be back soon okay?

She watches as those little typing bubbles appear and disappear as Damian seemingly debates what to say, biting her lip as she awaits his response.

Damian Okay. Be safe

Rhea lets out a relieved sigh, locking her phone and slipping it back into her clutch. Jey turns the radio on as he backs out of the space, heading in the direction of the hotel.

Jey nods his head along to whatever song is playing, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and Rhea allows herself to stare. He’s focused on the road, so it’s the perfect opportunity. It’s gotten a lot sunnier since earlier, the sunshine casting a golden glow on Jey’s tattooed skin and somehow making him look even prettier. Like a picture straight out of—

Rhea’s heart drops in realization.

She forgot to take the fucking picture for her Instagram story.

God, how the fuck did she forget what she literally came here to do? Would it be weird if she took a picture right now? Her anxiety creeps back up on her as she runs through options, thinking of what she can do to salvage this.

Maybe she can try to take a sneaky picture?

She looks over at Jey again, her heart skipping a beat when he glances at her and offers a boyish half-smile that makes her rethink everything. She thinks over their whole breakfast date, how Jey actually managed to get her mind off of him and genuinely showed her a good time. He’s just such a gentleman, too. She wasn’t expecting him to be as much of a sweetheart as he was, and now thinking about the fact that she came here with the sole intention of using him sends a pang of guilt through her heart.

Should she just call the whole thing off?

Rhea mentally checks out for the rest of the ride, barely paying attention or answering in short sentences when Jey tries to make small talk. Part of her is screaming at her to stay on track and take the picture, while the other part is telling her that it’s wrong. There’s also another part, albeit a lot smaller, telling her to just forget about Dom completely and keep going out with Jey for non-spiteful reasons.

She’s not so sure she’s ready to do that so soon, and after the date she just had with Jey, she simply can’t bring herself to go through with the plan anymore either. So, her best bet is probably to call it off and tell Jey that she had fun but won’t be taking him up on that second date offer.

Better that than leading him on. He doesn’t deserve that. Rhea just wishes she realized that before putting this whole scheme into action.

They arrive at the hotel, Rhea taking a quick minute to text Damian and let him know that she got there safely before getting out of the vehicle. Jey jogs ahead a bit to get to the door before her and hold it open for her once again, and Rhea thanks him quickly before going inside.

Jey falls into step beside her as they approach the elevators, Rhea hitting the button and standing back in case people are getting off. Once the elevator comes, they walk into it together and Jey turns to her. “What floor you on?”

“Four.” Rhea says.

“Wait, really?” Jey asks as he pushes the button for the fourth floor. “Me too, might as well walk you to your room.”

Ah, there goes that gentlemanliness again, putting a smile on her face and bringing back that funny feeling in her chest. “Yeah, thanks, I’d like that.”

Luckily, the elevator doesn’t stop on any other floors, taking them straight up to the fourth floor. Rhea’s thankful for that, she really needs to get to her room and debrief with Damian before they have to go to the arena for Raw. 

Rhea’s arm accidentally brushes against Jey’s as she leads the way to her room, even though it’s the faintest touch it still sends goosebumps across her skin. Jesus Christ, she feels like a teenager with a crush or something. She’s 27 years old, dammit, she needs to get a grip. 

“Well, this is me.” Rhea says, stopping in front of her door and turning to face Jey.

Big mistake. He’s a lot closer than she realized, so when she turns he’s looking right at her. Anything else she planned on saying gets caught in her throat, rendering her speechless. He looks even more gorgeous up close like this, even in the shitty hotel hallway lighting. It’s not fair, truly. 

She shakes her head, trying to get ahold of herself before Jey calls her out on her staring problem. “I—um, I had a really great time today.”

Jey smiles. “So did I. We gonna do it again sometime, or what?”

Rhea’s own smile falters as she looks down at the floor. “Uh, about that…I really don’t think I’m ready for this yet.” She gestures in between the two of them, looking up at him again to gauge his expression. “I’m sorry, I genuinely had a lovely time and you’re so sweet, but I think it’s too soon. I’m sorry.”

Jey purses his lips to the side, mulling over her words before shaking his head. “Nah, nah, don’t apologize. It’s cool, I get it. But uh, I meant it when I said we could take it slow, you’re probably goin’ through a lotta emotions right now, and that’s fine. I’m cool with just being friends if that’s what you want, but uh…if you ever wanna make Dom jealous—which is what I feel like you were tryna do…holler at me.”

Rhea’s jaw drops, gaping at him dumbfoundedly. She stumbles over her words as she tries to form a cohesive sentence, completely taken aback. “I—what? How did you—”

“Come on Rhea, I’m not dumb.” Jey says softly. “You were with him for two years, I know damn well you didn’t get over him that fast.”

“Well…” Rhea pauses, still baffled and majorly confused. “If you knew that, then…why did you agree to go out with me?”

Jey just shrugs with a big grin on his face. “Like I said, you know I can’t say no to you, Mami. And besides, I also might’ve thought it could be kinda fun to piss off Mustache Mysterio.”

A surprised laugh punches its way out of Rhea’s throat. “Huh. Well then I guess that makes things a whole lot easier. Thank you for your service. I’ll…see you tonight?”

“Absolutely.” Jey smirks, and it may or may not be the hottest thing she’s ever seen.

She watches him head down the hall to his own room before she lets herself into hers, closing the door and putting her back against it as she processes everything. It feels like none of that was even real, like she’s still asleep and is about to wake up any minute now to go on her date with Jey. 

So…Jey knew she was just trying to make Dom jealous and was okay with it. He even offered to help. He must be as crazy as she is.

Well, at least now she doesn’t have to worry about hurting him. And she still gets to do her plan, so it all worked out somehow. 

Shit, she has a lot to tell Damian. But first, she needs to get ready to go to the arena. Liv and Dom are supposed to be there tonight, and she needs to mentally and emotionally prepare herself before seeing them together. Jey may have gotten her mind off of them during their date, but the wounds are still there, stinging every time she’s reminded of them.

The wounds better not start bleeding again, especially if she wants this ruse of hers to work.

[fantasygerard2000]

Addendum: Ungrateful Fandoms

Additional things I forgot to wrote in my previous post about fandoms because it was late at night when I wrote it.

In my previous post, I brought up the Owl House fandom as an example that some fans want more of it despite already ending. This is mainly due to the fact that the show was shortened and that half of the content like the rest of the coven leaders, Caleb and Evelyn, Camila's interactions towards Eda are all cut.

As I said before, as much as I would have loved to see these cut content, I don't really need it to see them.

I opted out that Owl House has issues with showing things too much about the lore and the covens despite having very little time to do so. So the obvious option is to just cut the unneeded stuff out. Which they did. However, the issue remains because in the show, they tease a lot about Belos' backstory to the point that half of season two is just about the puzzling the pieces of the lore.

An example is in the episode Hollow Mind, fragments of Belos' backstory are illustrated through brunt paintings in the background. The creators are deliberately placing puzzle pieces for the fans to piece together.

And what do they do when they find out his backstory?

Nothing.

It's all just needless information. Information that creators spent too much on that even fans straight up want a spinoff centered on Belos and Caleb.

I find this method of storytelling problematic because it overshadows the current present story. And that's what the Owl House did. Spending way too much on Belos' lore, and when the show was shortened and content being cut, fans were unsatisfied to the point they want a Caleb spinoff. And do we really want to?

Prequel spinoffs despite their popularity are just needless fanservice for fans who already know what happens. They don't care if they're bad as long as they get more of the stuff they wanted, only to dip when it's about stuff they don't want.

The funny thing is that people still guessed the hows and whys about Belos' backstory. In fact, in the episode Thanks to Them, Masha flat out told it themselves and even making a snide comment about Caleb falling in love with a witch, confirming what fans speculated. And yet, they still wanted a whole ass episode about how Belos ended up in the Boiling Isles.

This comes back to the topic of tastes and how fandoms prefer wanting more of the stuff they know and like over new things. They already have information about a characters' backstory, an entire movie about said backstory is something they said would be needless prequel/spin off cash grab, but lo and behold, they made them.

Creators listened to the fans, all the time. It's why the live action remakes or modern adaptations rely on girlboss women of color, because they did listened to the complaints about the lack of women of color and women just being love interests to the main lead. However, their understanding of it is equivalent to an old parent who wants to support their child coming out of the closet by obnoxiously announcing it to the world while painting everything in rainbows. A understandably good intention, just not the correct method poorly executed at the wrong time.

Back to the topic of Owl House, it's original pilot was leaked alongside several animated pilots from other shows. In the pilot, it's mostly similar to the first episode mixed in with I Was a Teenage Abomination, minors differences are Amity attending Luz's human school, Lilith being the headmaster of Hexside, Eda actually willingly to transform into an owl beast and also Eda working for instead of Lilith.

I brought this pilot up because of the similarities with Wish. In an old post, I wrote concerns about fandoms wanting a remake of the show with this concept despite already having the show that ended and that's what this whole things is. Granted, not the majority of fandoms, just the vocals ones.

This just encourages creators to make a remake that includes the stuff fans wanted. And while works that do have succeeded, doesn't mean that others should follow suit.

No Way Home is a massive fan service movie that earns the satisfaction from fans while other films failed because they're the equivalent to giving ice cream to a baby just to shut them up.

And this come back to Wish. I have already discussed this film to death and I am aware that some of you all are tired of me writing about, then by all means I'm tired of yellow Jack Frost. Anyways, since most "fans" care more about the imaginary version of a concept that was not used to the film, I wanna bring up a underlying issue with these "fans".

Despite that it is confirmed that the humanoid Star wasn't going to be Asha's love interest and that while At All Costs is indeed meant to sound like a love song but recontextualize for the movie but can still be a love song or lullaby, fans still insist that Star was Asha's love interest.

While I do encourage of writing your own version of Wish, I condemn this behavior of making up a lie to justify your dislike over a movie for scrapping a trope you like while also demanding Disney to remake it.

While creators want to appease us fans, it is us fans to respect the creators and we do not have the right to know every info we demand from them.

[ourshadowstallerthanoursoul]

On this day... - April 23rd

On this day Led Zeppelin performed:

+ 1977 : The Omni in Atlanta, Georgia, USA

“My vocabulary is much too limited to describe how great Saturday’s Led Zeppelin concern was. […] Special effects have never really added anything to a concert as far as I’m concerned. That is, until I saw the shaw Zeppelin had planned. […] The show was expertly mapped out. The group’s every move seemed relaxed, yet perfectly timed. […] After all has been said, the trouble I went through to get tickets seems so insignificant when compared with the reward of seeing Led Zeppelin in concert. I do not anticipate ever spending a more enjoyable evening at a concert.” – ‘Zeppelin lands at Omni’ by John McCosh (OpenDoor)

“The Atlanta audience, having been well plied with the film The Song Remains the Same, greeted Led Zeppelin with a tremendous ovation and lit the hall with matches, even though they arrived thirty minutes late. […] Drawing evenly from their last two albums, the most impressive quality of the performance was that the group could indulge in a free form jam during their longer cuts without destroying their chemistry. […] The audience sat patiently through their longer pieces, not seeming to be too interested with the amazing versatility that John Paul Jones has on the piano. Achilles and Kashmir received thunderous ovations, but the band laid back for an acoustic set before cutting loose again. When Led Zeppelin comes to mind, most people do not readily think of the several acoustic numbers that the group has written. Therefore, the group was provided with a chance to sit in a small semi-circle and work out a few of the softer melodies. The crowd became anxious when the evening drew to a close with still no Stairway to Heaven. Lo and behold, their patience was rewarded at the closing of the performance. […] When most groups hardly expect to see their tenth birthday, the Zep has every indication that assures a long life yet to come.” – ‘Performance: Led Zeppelin’ by Murray M. Silver Jr. (Creative Loafing)

[doctorstrangereview]

0068: Doctor Strange #173

Cover Date: October 1968 On-Sale Date: July 12, 1968

This issue closes the Dormammu returns arc. Oddly, on the cover, Dormie's head is colored green. I guess they needed him to have the same color as nearly every other villain in this series, even if it's for one picture. Colan gives us lots more weird. Roy writes a good yarn.

Doc stands between Dormie's army of dykkors and the doorway of the dimensions. Dormie is about to send his minions to attack when Umar, clever as always, goads him into a personal duel with the sorcerer. Dormie realizes why she wants this but he does enters into the duel anyway. Doc isn't sure he's up for this and Dormie conjures A LOT of power which Gene illustrates as a full page.

The dykkors are as cowardly as ever. I'm not sure why Dormie thinks they can help him conquer a universe, but maybe it's just the sheer numbers. Doc spends a page countering the maelstrom and then wonders why Dormie doesn't attack again. He used too much gas on that attack and now he's spent. One of the dykkors says naughty things about Dormie's stamina and is banished to nothingness for its efforts. Oops! That'll teach to talk out of turn.

Over on camera 2, Clea and Victoria are heading back to Earth. Cleas is wondering how they'll survive the transition to the Earth dimension and lo and behold, protective bubbles appear around them. This series' timing can be spot on at times! While in the bubble, Vicky frets melodramatically about the fact that Doc will never hers.

Camera 3 shows us Wong at the Sanctum Sanctorum just as a purple aberration appears in mid-air. He is excited because he thinks Doc has returned, but it's just Clea and Vicky. This is the first time Clea and Wong have met. Apparently Doc has told each one about the other.

The ladies appear with a large splash of glowing water. It's a good thing Wong is a domestic and can clean things up. He spends the next couple of panels doing this while Clea attempts to stop Vicky from telling Wong that Doc is in danger. Too late. She blabbed and now Wong is worried. Just as Wong finishes cleaning up the glowing other-dimension water there is a furious knocking at the door. It's Doctor Benton, Doc's former colleague from his neurosurgeon days. Keep an eye on this guy!

Benton pushes past Wong telling him he will wait for Doc and starts ranting. We switch to camera 4 where we see the exterior of the Sanctum. Gene isn't good at drawing this yet. Don't worry, he gets better over the years.

After attacking everything about Doc's life including the attire of his ladies, Wong now frets over Doc's fate and we go back to The Realm Unknown. The tunnel to get there is much nicer than NYC's Lincoln Tunnel.

Dormie has wrapped Doc in constricting chains. They'll kill him as they get tighter. Of course, as is typical for the series, no one stays to the end. Dormie goes off to continue attacking the doorway and Gene gives us a clever three-panel series.

Umar herself is being spied on and subtly manipulated by Clea implanting a suggestion. As a bonus, the Orb of Agamotto finally receives its name officially. Umar is out of sorts, however so Clea and Vicky come up with a plan to juice her up.

Umar is now back to her old self. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, she doesn't question how this is happening and frees Doc.

Doc quickly hurries to the doorway. He pushes Dormie through to Earth and the doorway snaps shut before any of the dykkors can follow.

Without the dykkors for support, it's just Doc and Dormie. The first thing Doc does is solidify the clouds so no one below can see the battle. Those below will feel the effects as all that power flying around causes some nasty weather. Gene gives us another clever panel layout as the two enemies engage.

The battle doesn't last very long. Doc starts attacking with air molecules that hit Dormie like steel-hard pellets. Yup, Doc is confident again. He has realized what is going on even if Dormie hasn't yet. Dormie repels the attack, but it thoroughly exhausts him. It's time for Doc to give the big reveal!

Yes, Dormie's oath (technically given twice in Strange Tales #127 and again in Strange Tales #141) is raining down on his head. Now we know Dormie's words are more than just words. Doc attempts to banish Dormie, but he manages to escape back to the Dark Dimension. Things have returned to the status quo. Doc returns to his Sanctum in yet another convenient magical bubble. The captions explain the bubble keeps him from being seen which is why the cloak alone won't do on this occasion.

So Doc re-enters the Sanctum through the walls! And who happens to be in the same room he materializes in? None other than Doc's former colleague, Doctor Benton. Benton dismisses the appearance as an illusion and offers Doc a job as a consultant so he "can be of service to humanity again." If only he knew the truth. Doc's a bit tired and asks if we can do this some other time. Benton gets frustrated and leaves angrily.

"As a surgeon you were greed personified and now you're playing Wizard of Oz!" Quite a statement. Watch out for this guy. We're not done with him yet.

The final panel gives us the first time the title Sorcerer Supreme is used. Even though the captions calls Doc this, he isn't yet. He won't officially get it for another five years. It also gives us an unpleasant fact about Doc's life. There's quite a bit of crushing loneliness. That may be about to change.

We wrap up the Domammu arc with a satisfying conclusion that weaves in threads to future stories to be picked up later. Gene Colan continues to demonstrate he is the right artist for this book and Roy understands the character better than at any time after the Lee/Ditko days. He is even giving Doc more depth and describing what the life of a master magician is like. Doc has grown beyond the cold and rude figure who exists merely to fight the forces the rest of us can't