#car appraisal service

[the-californicationist]

The Window (5 of 7)

Ch 01 // Ch 02 // Ch 03 // Ch 04 // Ch 05 // Ch 06--- AO3 Link

You couldn’t see anything. You knew you were in the backseat, but you didn’t even know what kind of car you were in. They’d stolen you from your bed. As the road rushed by you, jostling you around, you had no idea where you were headed. The two men on either side of you hadn’t said a word, but when you tried to peek, they reinforced your blindfold, keeping you in the dark. 

“Alright, bonnie,” Soap’s voice was in your left ear, “Ready for your surprise?”

You turned to him, hoping he could see the glare through the cloth, 

“Are we there yet? ‘Cause blindfolding a pregnant woman in a car while she has morning sickness is like a new level of cruelty.”

“Sorry, love,” Gaz took your hand and you felt his lips on your fingers, “Almost there.”

Price was in the driver’s seat, and you felt him pull the car to a long, braking stop.

Gaz took your hand, helping you out of the car, walking you up past the hood, one foot in front of the other. 

“Can I look?”

“Alright, pretty girl. You can look,” John’s voice washed over you, and you took off your mask. 

You were facing a modern-style home. It was the only house around, surrounded by trees, illuminated by bright sunshafts glittering through the leaves of the canopy. 

“Bought it for you, love. Wha’d’ya think?” Simon’s comment barely registered. 

When John had told you things would be different, he hadn’t really been clear. He’d promised to do everything he could to take care of you and the baby, and that he would somehow prove it to you. You had no idea that promise would include a whole damn house.

“Your name’s on the deed, and it’s paid in full. But,” John shifted his weight, treading lightly, “We were hopin’ you’d let us move in with you. We just… we don’t wanna miss a moment, love.”

“What?” Your voice sounded so small, “You… you bought me a house?”

“Aye, with a wee pool and everything! Come see it, bonnie,” Soap grabbed your hand and rushed you in. 

The house was unfurnished except for the appliances, but there were boxes in every room. You opened one to find a bedframe, and one in the kitchen had pots and pans. Had they bought everything new? How did they get the money?

“John,” you found him as Soap was taking you around for the tour, “How did you afford this?”

He smiled, 

“Four single men, all with over ten years of service… let’s just say we had some savings.”

“I can’t afford to pay you back,” you admitted. 

“Don’t need you to. It’s yours. I told you, love,” he pet your cheek, kissing you chastely once, twice, until you relaxed into his touch, “We’re here to stay, but it’ll be on your terms.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you were in shock as you stood in the big, empty living room, gaping up at the high ceilings and black, wooden beams. It was a gorgeous home, and you were speechless. 

“Do you like it, love?” Simon put his arms around your waist and held you, looking down into your face for your appraisal.

You nodded,

“I do. It’s perfect. Thank you for everything. I wasn’t —”

He bent down to kiss you, interrupting you, and he was anything but gentle. Something about seeing you in his home had Simon all worked up, and you were being subjected to its effects. 

His hands lifted you onto the kitchen island with incredible ease, and you spread your legs to accommodate his huge frame as he settled himself against your hips. He wouldn’t stop kissing you, forcing his tongue into your mouth, sucking on your lips, and fondling your tender breasts through your thin tee shirt. 

“You two are gonna start a fire you can’t put out,” Gaz chastised Ghost, sidling up to you and kissing your neck. 

“Join in or fuck off, mate,” Simon’s voice was like a growl, snarling at his sergeant before returning his mouth to your body, sucking on your soft nipple through the fabric of your tee, making the cloth cling to you as he licked and nipped at your peak.

“Easy, Si. We’re gonna unload the bags, and we’ll be back. Get her all warmed up for us,” Gaz’s sinister chuckle hung in the air as he left you at his lieutenant’s mercy, of which there seemed to be very little. 

Ghost was usually so careful with you, but today, in the echoing expanse of the kitchen he’d bought for you, he was messy and needy. You could feel his cock straining against his pants as he rubbed it against you. Wearing nothing more than a pair of bike shorts and a tee shirt, you were able to feel every touch, every warm inch of his dick through your thin clothing, and his repeated thrusting told you exactly how hard he was.

He whined as he kissed you, teasing his head against your covered hole, but sensing where the warm entrance was, prodding it as if he might break through. You comforted him, placing your hand on his cheek as he kissed you. It seemed to bring him back to earth, if just for a moment. 

“You alright, Si?” You asked in a low whisper, watching over Ghost’s enormous shoulder as the other three men brought in bag after bag of supplies and belongings, preparing to move in. They kept stealing hungry glances over at you and your tall blond lover, not jealous per se but feeling ready to be included. 

Simon nodded,

“Yeah, love. ‘M fine.” 

He pulled back a bit to look down at your body. He lifted your tee shirt to stare at your belly. You weren’t showing yet, but he didn’t care. He placed an enormous, tattooed hand over your womb protectively, whispering,

“Can’t believe you’re havin’ my baby. Doesn’t seem real yet.”

“How do you know they’re yours?” You asked him gently, putting your hand over his and tracing comforting circles across his skin.

“Don’t know,” he kissed you again, “Don’t care.”

Simon pulled off your bike shorts, forcing you to lift your hips off the counter, and ripped them off of your feet in one quick swoop. Your shirt disappeared just as fast, and the cool air in the empty kitchen rushed across your body, making your flesh pebble from the shock. But, you melted as soon as you felt Simon’s thick fingers spread your pussy lips apart, reaching for your tight, wet hole. When he found your warmth, you both sighed into each other, relieved and yet ablaze. 

His other hand was still pressed to your belly as if he was keeping you and your baby hidden from the world, holding you both in his palm possessively. The contrast was mesmerizing. His fingers pounded into you, sheathing themselves down to the knuckle, wet and sticky, while his other was gentle and soft, caressing you as sweetly as he could. You felt a strong, rushing orgasm build within you, and as soon as you began to clench around him, he took his fingers away, leaving you teetering on the edge with nothing to grab onto. 

“Ungh! What… Si? Please,” you whined, looking up to him with wide glassy eyes.

His expression was serious, and he leaned in close to taunt you,

“Whose baby are you havin’?”

“I don’t know. We said we would —”

His fingers were back, pressing down cruelly into your walls, making it feel like his fat dick was prodding through your entrance,

“Whose…” His fingers sank into you, making a popping wet noise. “Fuckin’...” He pulled them out of you, painting your wetness on your lips, “Baby…” Back in. “Is…” Back out. “It?” Back in, and this time, a third finger joined them.

“Simon!” You cried out, but you were alone in the room. The others must have been outside dealing with the moving boxes. 

“That’s right,” he brought your face up to his, tangling a fist into your hair, “Tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s too much, Si…” You were shocked by how stretched you felt, and your pussy was soaked, trying to accommodate its intruder, your muscles shaking from being spread apart. 

“Whose —”

“Yours… fuck! Si, you’re gonna make me come!” You felt it break inside of you, bursting through like a firework, crackling through your belly and making you squirt on his hands… and your brand new kitchen tile. 

“Oh, bloody hell. That’s a good girl.”

Just when you thought he would give you his cock, he began to slowly press his hand into you again, fucking you with his three wide fingers still inside of you, stretching you all the way down to his knuckles. 

“Si?” You whimpered, confused, starving for the comforting feeling of his heavy rod. 

“Wha’ is it, love?” He didn’t even look up at you. He was transfixed, focused on your swollen hole. 

“Fuck me… please?” You reached out for him, grasping at his wide forearm, trying to coax him to take the next step. 

In an almost dismissive way, he caught Price before he walked back outside and nodded at him, 

“Oy, mate. Hold her for me, yeah?”

To your shock, John walked over, studied you for a second as you writhed in your predicament, and stood on the other side of the island countertop, behind your head. He chuckled, 

“What have you gotten yourself into, pretty girl?” 

The captain took both of your arms and locked them in his, sticking them up behind your head, watching your tits hang freely, bouncing up and down as Ghost pounded his hand into your sopping pussy. 

You gritted your teeth, feeling your body respond to your capture, ready and eager to come again so soon after its last onslaught. 

“I can’t… I’m…” 

“Gonna come again,” Simon grinned, “Yeah, I can feel it. Needy thing, innit she?”

“She is,” John agreed, pinning your arms just a little tighter, ready for you to try and wriggle away. 

You were breathing heavy, and your muscles kept tightening up on you, freezing you in place as you tried to squirm free. If only you could pull your arms around you, maybe you could hold off the brutal fire building in your chest, burning down your ribs and spinning like a spiral in that impossibly tight coil that he was working with his fingers. 

It was when he bent to suck on your clit that you lost it. You felt the knot that was tangled up inside of you slip, the long rope sliding against its own bite, loose and unwieldy, letting you freefall through the sparkling, black abyss of your impossibly deep pleasure. 

“That’s what I wanna see, love,” your blond beast growled up at you, showing you his white fangs, “Give me that come. Give it to me! Yes! Fuck!”

You heard the wet noises that were coming from you, not understanding where they were coming from or how, but also not caring one bit. All you cared about was riding the relentless wave of pleasure. The more he fucked you on his hand, the more you rolled through the tumbling ebb and flow of your bliss. 

Hot tears cut across your temples, and it was John’s soft mouth that kissed them away, shushing you,

“It’s okay, love. Be good for Simon, yeah? Be our good girl. You can do that, right?”

You nodded weakly, leaning your cheek into his scruffy kisses, letting him nuzzle you, comforting you as Ghost pulled you apart.

John used his warm hands to pet your breasts, plucking gently at your nipples, lingering on their silky skin, 

“Such a pretty little thing, lettin’ Si use that pussy. You look bloody beautiful like this, love.”

His praise made you feel drunk. Now, all you wanted was to be good for them. You wanted more of that lovesick approval. What more could you give them? How could you appease the gods of your pleasure?

You canted your hips, humping Simon’s hand, letting him reach deeper and deeper on each thrust, rocking your body against the hard countertop. 

Ghost made a painful groan inside his throat, obviously pleased with your performance, and he leaned forward to suck on your breasts, biting and licking more than he was kissing, but it was enough to make you keen in high-pitched whines, catching Soap and Gaz’s attention in the other room. 

You didn’t halt your shameless undulation for their benefit. You were far beyond the point of shame. You were only focused on coming again and again and again — as many times as your commander needed you to — built to serve him. Them…

Gaz’s bright smile widened as he came up beside Ghost,

“My, my, my. Makin’ quite a mess, hm, babes?”

“A right gorgeous mess,” Soap added, licking his lips, obviously eager to taste the honey Simon had harvested from you. 

Now that he had his team with him, Simon pulled you off the counter top and put your feet on the ground. He positioned you so that he could fuck you from behind, but he was too tall. So, he simply held you up, easily supporting your weight, his heavy arm underneath your hips. Price, Gaz, and Soap all stood in front of you, their belt buckles in your line of sight, and watched as Ghost fed his solid cock into your wet hole. The captain grabbed you by the hair, forcing your chin up, and with each thrust from Simon, your mouth crashed right into Price’s zipper. 

“Mm,” he sighed, “Perfect height, innit?”

With his free hand, he unbuckled the belt, pulled down his zipper, and let the button free from his pants. Then, you were face to face with his fat dick, as hard as steel and ready to be buried in your throat. 

You opened your mouth, trying to look up at your captain, but it was no use, you couldn’t see him, all you could see was the head of his cock being pressed into your lips, inch after inch of him disappearing into your mouth, making you gag. 

As Simon thrust forward, Price pulled out, and then the reverse. As you felt your pussy empty from its delightful stretch, your throat was invaded by Price’s uncut, drooling monster. You were always full, no matter what, and your brain had no idea how to prioritize your efforts. So, for the most part, you were helpless, hanging limp between the two huge men, being used by them in a cyclic, tantric rhythm, ceaselessly and towards a blinding, white-hot joy. 

Suddenly, you felt two mouths on your hanging breasts, suckling from each nipple as if you would feed them, laving at your skin relentlessly. You knew it was Gaz and Soap from the feeling of their kisses, but you couldn’t see them, so every movement was a surprise. Someone’s hand began to play in your folds, discovering the hard round body of your clit and teasing it as SImon slammed himself into you. 

You came, but it was silent. Price’s cock wouldn’t let any noise escape, but he could feel you screaming. He took a step forward, fully sheathed inside of you now, cutting off your air, making you choke roughly. Your whole body clenched down before you told it to relax, and the sound that came from Simon was a singular delight. It seemed like he was in some kind of heaven. 

“Oh, fuckin’ hell. Tha’s damn good,” Ghost hissed, “Do it again, Cap.”

Price obliged, choking you down on his cock, making your jaw stretch to its limit, burying your nose in his soft curls. You lapped at his base with your tongue, participating in the small way that you could, balancing yourself on his hips. 

“Ungh!” Price groaned, emptying his load into you. 

Simon was coming too, and you could feel the heat from both of them pooling inside of you. 

You weren’t sure whose arms you were in, but someone held you tightly, helping you stand on shaking legs, petting your face, telling you not to swallow. 

“Hm?” You tried to catch your bearings, and Soap held your face in his hands, his thumbs trying to pull your mouth open. 

“C’mon, bonnie. Open up. Show me his come, yeah? Lemme taste it.”

You were out of your mind, but you were pliant and fully drowning in your subspace, eager to obey. You opened your mouth to him, feeling him lick Price’s come out of you, sucking it off of your tongue. Then, he dropped to his knees, licking it back into your cunt, mixing it with Simon’s, eating you out and filling you up at the same time. 

Gaz was still on his knees as well, and you could feel his huge hands pull your ass cheeks apart, the tip of his strong tongue prodding at your asshole, trying to squeeze itself through the tight muscle. 

He found a way in, and you were being eaten from both sides, held upright by Soap’s strong arms. You held onto his mohawk for help, trying to steady yourself. Their mouths were so warm, and yet you shivered, the pleasure overwhelming you. 

A big thumb came and wiped more tears from your cheek, 

“Shh, pretty girl. You can take it, yeah?” 

It was John. He was comforting you, his softening cock still hanging heavy and low outside of his pants, shining from your mouth. He coached you,

“Breathe for me. Gonna come for them, aren’t you? Yeah, tha’s a good girl. Just let it happen. Shh, shh. Pretty little thing…”

“Ahhhngh!” You screamed from deep within your chest, and you knew you had squirted again, all over Soap’s face. You felt it happen. Now that Simon had primed you for it, you nearly had control, but not quite. It was like a button that was too high to press. 

“Fuck, yes, lass. You taste so fuckin’ sweet. Holy shite,” Johnny came up off the ground and held you up so that your legs were straddling him. It didn’t take much for him to stuff himself into your pussy after Simon’s work, and yet he filled you in an entirely different way. At the same time, you felt Gaz behind you, his fingers playing in your asshole, and then, his soft cockhead. 

It took Gaz much longer to get fully settled, but as Johnny fucked his dick up into you, he found a way. You felt Gaz’s wide palm wrap itself around your throat from behind, not to choke you but to hold you upright, keeping you straight even though everything in you wanted to collapse. 

“That’s it, babes. This tight little arse belongs to me, yeah? Tell us who you fuckin’ belong to.”

“You… ungh, I’m… ahhh!” You tried to speak, but it was so much easier to whimper. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” John was back, fondling your breasts as his men fucked you in both of your holes, “You can do far better than that.”

You met his eyes, and behind the icy blue, there roared a blazing fire. Simon had come to join you on the other side of Johnny, and the same flames lay within him as well. 

“I’m yours,” you promised all four of them at once, “This baby is yours,” you heard them collectively groan at varying levels of excitement and possession, “All yours. Always.”

“Good girl,” Simon praised you before Price could, parting your lips with his fingers, the same ones he had tortured you with, and stuck them in your mouth, “Now, suck.”

You did, keeping your eyes on him as you licked your own come off of his skin, feeling Price’s beard brush against your chest, latching onto the nipple he loved to abuse, biting at it to make it stiffen. 

“Mmff-fuck,” the captain mumbled as he sucked on your skin, “I can’t wait for your milk to come in.”

“Dinnae even start. Gonnae make me come just thinkin’ about it, Cap’n,” Johnny agreed, bending his neck to suck from your other breast, imagining drinking from you. 

Simon pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, and because of Price’s earlier invasion, you took him easily, proud of yourself for not gagging, using your mouth and tongue to take Ghost’s hand as far as he wanted it to go. You could see what your performance was doing to him. His chest was rising and falling, breathing hard from the excitement. 

Gaz’s cock was now pounding into your ass with as much power as you could take, and as he increased his speed, you started to feel yourself come in a new way. The sparks were still there, but they were coming from somewhere dark and mysterious, flowing over you softly, like frothy waves of foam, ethereal and light. 

You reached back and grabbed his neck at the nape, digging your nails into his flesh, spurring him on. 

“Ungh, goddamnit,” he cried out, kissing your throat that he still held in his hand, biting you none too gently. 

“Kyle… please, I need… I need you,” you pulled your mouth away from Ghost and whispered to him, and with whatever strength he had left, he fucked his long shaft into your ass, feeling your beating pulse deep within your body. 

His mouth was right on your ear, and he whispered, 

“I’m coming, baby. I’m coming… I’m — ahngh!”

“Oh, fuck!” Soap lay his forehead on your other shoulder, and began to rut into you without any mercy, the idea of Gaz’s throbbing cock filling you up too much for him to bear. 

They held you between them, frozen in time, letting their cocks erupt inside of your warm belly, filling you with their load. As they pulled away, you heard the wet noise of their spend hitting the tile, pouring out of you in a lurid stream. You hissed from the empty feeling you were left with, and the only thing you could hold onto was the memory of the feeling. 

“You alright, love?” John asked you, petting your cheek. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got her. You lot can finish settin’ up. C’mon, love,” Ghost told them, swinging your limp body up into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. 

Inside the large bathroom, you saw that they had packed all of your toiletry effects, and they were strewn about, tossed in bags, waiting to be organized. Simon sat you down on the edge of the tub and began to fill it, checking the temperature with his hand before helping you sit inside. 

The water was warm as it began to pool around you, and you had the pleasure of watching Ghost undress, preparing to join you. He was a tall man, but the tub was large, and you were eager to feel his body against yours again. 

In the bright light of the bathroom, his scars were on full display. They didn’t bother you, but they made you feel very protective. As if you had a time machine and could go back and slaughter the bastards who had made them. He caught you staring and teased you for it,

“You lookin’ for round two already, missus?”

You blushed, looking away shyly. 

“Nuh uh,” he chided, sinking into the tub behind you, “Where’s my nasty little slag who squirted for me in my kitchen, hm?”

“Si…” You played coy, snuggling back against him in the water, feeling his flesh slip against yours, just as warm. His furry belly jerked from his silent laughter against your back, and he used his huge hands to rub soap down your arms as he began to clean you. 

“Pretend all you want, love. I know the truth. You love being our filthy girl, innit that right?”

“You got me,” you sighed, letting him clean your body, feeling his hands rub you up and down, lingering on your breasts a little too long. He pulled at your nipples, soft at first and then cruelly, until you made a noise of protest. 

He teased you again, rubbing them in slow, agonizing circles, 

“You gonna let me have a taste, hm?”

“Huh?” You looked up at him over your shoulder, not understanding what he wanted at first. 

“When your milk comes in,” he used both hands to squeeze your tits, making them rise out of the water, pressing them up until they looked huge on your chest, “Bet they’re gonna be so full, so big. I read that book Johnny bought. Says your nipples might get darker. I’m ready to see that.”

“Are you sure? You might not like the way I look,” you said, testing his desire. 

“Bollocks. Dark nipples, huge tits, drippin’ milk, big swollen belly with my fuckin’ baby in it? You’re proper mad if you think that’s not what I want. Fuck, it’s all any of us can think about.”

“What else do you think about?” You asked dreamily, closing your eyes and letting him massage the soap into your breasts, squeezing them in a steady, slow pattern, comforting himself with their heavy softness.

“Think about hearin’ their laugh. About what color eyes they’ll have. Think about comin’ home to you and the lads. Christmas morning. All the wrapping paper torn up all over the floor. Think about crawlin’ into bed with you every damn night. Thinkin’ about holding them for the first time. About how much I love you.”

You opened your eyes then, looking up at him to see the truth, and when you saw how earnest he was, no longer hiding behind his snarky jokes, something in you opened. A door. Some new beginning. 

“I love you, too, Si.”

Idk how many more of these chapters I've got in me. Just submitting to the process, I guess. Do y'all still even want to read these? Who knows.

While you wait for the next installment, please consider checking out my other work. Thank you!

[the-marshals-wife]

New Horizons (Arthur Curry x Reader)

A/N: Requested by @dantes-devil-huntress. I can't believe this is my first Aquaman fic! This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Premise: Trying to figure out his place in the world as the newly crowned king of Atlantis, Arthur meets someone who may just help him find the answers he looking for.

Description: Arthur Curry/Aquaman x Fem!Reader (Human), meet-cute fluff! | Warnings: alcohol, mild language | Setting: AU w/o Mera endgame, before The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 3,468

Edit: here's my Orm Marius x Reader fic for my fellow Orm girlies ;)

Gif credit: user jasonmomoaonline

Imagine Arthur giving you shelter when you're stranded in a storm, and discovering his true identity

Getting stood up for your date had been the worst part of the night, until the moment you got into your car. Instead of the engine turning over and sputtering to half-life like usual, it only stalled.

"You have got to be kidding me," you say, gripping the steering wheel and turning the key until you thought it might snap, "Come on, come on, come ON!"

Throwing open your door, you pop the hood and stumble back out into the chilled night. You mutter curses under your breath as you survey the labyrinth of steel and hoses before you.

"At least nothing's on fire this time," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

You step back and stare at the bucket of bolts the salesman had called "like new." Besides coming to this bar, buying this car was quite possibly your biggest regret. It wasn't quite a lemon, but it wasn't a Rolls either. And most of all, it was all you could afford.

You exhale, glaring up at the flickering light of the bar's neon sign. The last thing you wanted to do after waiting nearly two hours alone like a fool was show your face inside again. You retrieve your phone from your back pocket, just to see the blinking bars in the top corner. No service.

"Wonderful," you groan.

Like a bad joke, thunder rolls in the distance. You look up to see the lightning flashing on the horizon across the bay. The brisk, salt air rises up from the water and cuts right through you.

"Could this night get any better?!" you lament, an angry shriek escaping your lips as you kick the front tire.

"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice from behind interjected.

You jump and turn to see a man approaching, nervous smile on his bearded face. You appraise him wearily: tall, dark, and not at all lacking in style, clad in both leather and jewelry. He looked a sight better than the drunken fishermen you'd observed stumble about the bar, which you concluded was about ninety-percent of the clientele. Even from where he stood, he certainly seemed to smell better.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt, but you sound like you might need some help," he offers hesitantly.

Despite your initial scare, something about him puts you at ease.

"Oh, um...yeah, actually" you smile embarrassed, tucking your hair behind your ear, "My stupid car won't start. Again."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asks, pointing.

"Would you? That would be great, honestly," you say, folding your arms against the cold, "I just had it in the shop last week. I have no idea what's wrong now."

He pats the fender as he circles around to the front, "Let's see what's got you all clammed up here, buddy."

"Your guess is as good as mine," you say exasperated, stepping to stand behind him a ways.

He chuckles and pushes up his sleeves, ducking underneath the hood. You take note of the intricate tattoos, realizing this friendly stranger was becoming more interesting by the minute.

"Hmm, nope. Not that," he says, craning his neck, "Not that either."

You bite your lip and sway on your feet, silently praying he could find the source of the problem. Any easy fix was probably too much to hope for, but your fingers stayed mentally crossed nonetheless.

"Ooh, maybe- no, definitely not," he says, followed by a clinking sound, "That should not be there."

"I really appreciate this," you say after a moment, peering over his shoulder, "I can change the wipers and put on a spare if I have to, but that's about the extent of my car expertise."

"No shame in that," he grunts, his voice strained, "Oof, now that might be a problem."

"Did you find something?" you dare to ask.

"These spark plugs are kaput. Like, 'not even a necromancer can bring them back' kind of kaput."

"The guy said they were fine!" you exclaim, "I knew I shouldn't have gone back to that place. Probably just took my money and laughed."

The man finally stands up and winces.

"And your alternator is on its last leg," he says with a grimace, "Even if you could get it to start, I wouldn't go more than five miles in this thing."

"Great. That's just wonderful," you sigh, shaking your head, "Well, thank you for looking. It'd have taken me forever to figure that out. Google only goes so far."

"No problem, wish I had better news for ya," he says, wiping his grease-tinged hands on his jeans before extending one towards you, "I'm Arthur, by the way."

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you too."

Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but grin. As Good Samaritans go, he was quite a handsome one. Something in the back of your mind whispered that you had seen his face before, but you couldn't place when or where.

Before you could speak again, a bolt of lightning strikes just across the harbor, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder.

Arthur looks off to the darkened horizon, his expression souring with concern.

"Storm's coming in fast," he observes, the sea breeze blowing through his long, sun-kissed hair, "Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up?"

He turn back to you, and only now do you notice just how rich and golden eyes his eyes are. For a few dizzied seconds, you forget to answer.

"Uh, not really. I'm pretty new to the area. I don't know very many people," you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden, "I can just call a Uber or something. If my service ever picks up."

"Yeah, definitely," he nods, clearing his throat, "They have a phone inside."

"Thank you again for helping me, Arthur," you say, starting to walk towards the door.

"I didn't really help, though..." he trails off, disappointment in his voice as you step past him.

Your hand is almost on the handle when he pipes up.

"Uh, look I know you don't know me, but my dad's place is just down the road from here. He's the lighthouse keeper. Him and my mom are actually away on little retreat, and I'm watching the place for them," he explains, "It's dry, warm, and definitely has a lot less drunk guys. You could wait there while the storm passes, if you wanted."

You turn back to him, trying to conceal your renewed hope, "I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Oh you wouldn't be. It's just me and the dog. He's probably getting sick of me at this point. He could use a visitor," he chuckles, "But I understand if you'd rather stay here. Strange guy at a bar invites you to a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night. Sounds like a horror movie, I know."

You laugh, and so does he, bringing some much needed levity.

"I'll bring you right back if you change your mind, just say the word," he adds, sounding truly sincere.

Almost everything in you was saying not to trust a man you'd just met, but your gut was telling you otherwise. There was more to the warmth in his eyes than just the color.

"Well, it does sound like the dog could use some company," you say thoughtfully.

Arthur smirks. "Oh yeah. There's been a Hell's Kitchen marathon on for days, and I'm pretty sure he's sick of listening to my Gordon Ramsay impression. I can't resist, love that guy."

"I might have to hear that for myself."

"Let's get you out of this weather, and we'll see what I can do about that, then," he says with a wink, "My ride is just over here."

Not even the chilled wind could overcome the warmth of your cheeks. The excitement in your chest grows with every step as you follow him across the sandy lot. The ride in question, however, soon comes into view, and the knot in your stomach tightens all the more.

"Oh boy," you say, staring at the motorcycle.

"You're not scared of bikes are you?" he questions, stepping alongside it and reaching into the black saddlebag.

"Not exactly," you hesitate, "I've just never been on one before."

He pulls out a red, half helmet and offers it to you.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall off," he replies, amused.

You look between him and the headgear a moment before taking it.

"Besides," he says, swinging his leg over the seat, "All you have to do is hang on."

With no argument to make, and rain drops beginning to sprinkle down, you pull your hair back and fasten the helmet on. You nearly lose your balance trying to throw your leg over, having to grab his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn't seem to mind; you could have sworn you heard him snicker. You settle into the seat, heart racing from being so close to him. More anxious than ever, you lightly place your hands on his back.

"All good back there?" Arthur asks, a smile in his voice.

"All good," you repeat, unconvincingly.

"Alright then," he says, turning the key.

Seconds later, the motorcycle roars to life as he revs the engine. Arthur eases the bike back slowly, pivots out of the lot, and eases it up to the main road. The instant he accelerates, the force kicks you backward. You throw your arms around his torso, pulling yourself against him. Over the noise of the machine, you weren't sure if the rumbling in your ear that followed was thunder or laughter, but you figured was the latter.

With the bar now behind you, and the rain coming down harder with the increasing speed, you bury your face into his back and hold on tightly.

♆

The lighthouse comes into view just as the skies open up. Arthur maneuvers the bike up the slippery, sand driveway and quickly shuts it off. He gives you his hand as you climb off and leads you toward the house.

The helmet offers some protection from the downpour, but the wind blows the spray into your face as you squint to see. Lightning above illuminates the world like daylight as you scramble up onto the porch.

Arthur throws the front door open and lets you in first as you stumble inside the dark house. You take a few blind steps forward as he slams it shut behind him, thunder making the windows rattle.

"Man, someone must have really pissed off Thor," he laughs. His relief, however, is turned to exasperation as you hear a clicking sound followed by a sigh.

"Power's out. Awesome."

Still trying to catch your breath, you pull out your phone, struggling with wet fingers to use touchscreen. Finally the flashlight turns on, and Arthur throws his hand up over his eyes as you accidentally shine it right at his face.

"Sorry," you pant, pointing it down.

"No worries. That's a good idea, actually. I always forget about this thing," he remarks, grabbing his own phone and doing the same, "One second, I think Pops has some candles in the kitchen."

You nod as he disappears into the next room. Now remembering the dripping helmet on your head, you release the strap with your free hand and set it down on the mat beside the door. A shiver goes through you from your soaked clothes. You point your phone about the shadowy room to get your bearings, admiring the otherwise cozy living area. As you sweep the light downward, something large and metallic glints on the coffee table in front of the sofa and catches your eye. You move closer to get a better look, and then your heart drops to your feet. Lying beside a bag of jerky and the TV remote is a massive, gleaming trident of gold. A memory flashes through your mind of an article you'd seen weeks ago, with a fuzzy photo of an alleged aquatic hero holding a weapon just like it. The pieces come together all at once as you realize the identity of your host.

The very next second, you hear Arthur's approach. He returns with a lit candle in each hand and a blanket under his arm, only to find your expression of complete and utter shock.

"You...you're..." you stammer.

"Oof, I knew I forgot to put something away," he cringes, "My bad."

"You're the Aquaman," you gape, finding the words.

"Surprise," he says in a sing-song voice, flashing a nervous smile, "Yeah, I never really know how to bring that up.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he places the candles on the coffee table. "I can't believe it. Aren't you supposed to be like...well, in Atlantis or something?"

"I was, earlier this morning. Just about died of boredom in council meetings," he says matter-of-factly, proceeding to talk as if he had a desk job, "I'm kinda part-timing right now, between land and sea. It's complicated. I'm still new to the whole 'king' thing. Don't have all the kinks worked out yet."

"I'd imagine," you breathe, your mind still reeling.

"Here, figured you need this." He holds out the blanket, completely unphased by the previous subject, "Do you drink tea? I can make some for you."

You take the blanket and chuckle in bewilderment. "Um, sure. That would be great," you answer, "Thank you."

"One tea coming up," he smiles, "Uh, just make yourself comfortable, I'll get the fire going here a minute, after I find the dog. Pretty sure he's hiding under Pops' bed upstairs. He's terrified of storms. Ironic right? Lighthouse keeper's dog afraid of a little water."

"I don't blame him this time," you say, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, "I think you were right about Thor."

As if on cue, another boom of thunder shakes the walls. You both burst out laughing.

♆

A few minutes later, you find yourself sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire with a warm mug in your hands, finally beginning to feel dry. Having been unsuccessful in coaxing the dog into joining him downstairs, Arthur settles down beside you crossed-legged, damp hair tied up, trading the tea for a can of Guinness. Your thoughts rage like the storm outside as you stare into the flames, agonizing about what you should say.

Arthur speaks a moment later, saving you the trouble.

"Sorry about the power. I'll call you that cab as soon as it comes back."

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," you reply.

You look over at him hopefully, meeting his piercing gaze for as long as you can. Mere seconds pass before you bow your head, heart racing while you repress a smile.

"I'm uh, sure you've got some questions about all this," he ventures, rubbing the back of his head.

"Honestly, with the night I've had, meeting 'Aquaman' is par for the course," you smirk.

"I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I guess you can understand why I don't lead with the whole King of Atlantis thing. Kinda makes it hard to keep a conversation going once people know you 'can talk to fish.' They don't really see you the same after that."

"Yeah, I think I'd probably keep that to myself too," you agree, the awe returning full-force, "Still, it must be amazing. I mean, you're basically ruler of the ocean, right? Or is it just Atlantis?"

"Eh, I mean there's the other kingdoms-"

"There's more?!" you blurt out, wide-eyed.

"Oh yeah. Xebel, the Fishermen, the Brine, a couple of defunct ones no one wants talks about. We got a few."

"And you're the ruler over all of them?"

He shrugs. "More or less. I mean, they each have their own ruler. But then I'm also over them? Kinda? I'm still figuring crap out, they didn't exactly give me a rule book on my first day. Plus I have answer to this royal council and they've got sticks up their butts about everything I do and say," he groans, rolling his eyes, "I like to consider myself more of a 'protector of the deep' than a ruler. Sounds more cool, and less like an old fart with a crown."

You giggle, hanging on every his every word.

"And with this bad boy right here," he says, reaching behind him and patting the trident, "I command all life in the sea. The animals anyway. Between you and me, that's the best part."

"You definitely have a cooler job than me," you beam.

"It definitely has its perks. But most of the time, I'd rather be here," he sighs, punctuated by a swig of his beer.

A visible sadness washes over him as he looks into the fire.

"You aren't from Atlantis?" you question.

"No, I was raised by my father. My parents met on accident. My mother was queen of Atlantis, and she ran away from her not-so-nice guy fiancé. She got lost in a storm, and my father rescued her. They've always said it was..."

Arthur stops and turns his gaze towards you, realization in his eyes.

Your heart skips as you understand. "Fate?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Something like that."

You blink, letting him go on.

"Anyway, I know I have a calling to the sea, but the land is always going to be a part of me, you know?" His expression softens. "Here, I've always found everything I need."

His words linger in the air between you. You look down at your hands, your chest pounding.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, I know that was a lot of info."

"Just a little bit," you reply teasingly, "But your secret's safe with me, Arthur. I promise. I've got no one to tell anyway."

"Don't worry, I trust you," he says, waving his hand, "It's actually nice to have someone else to share it with."

"I'm honored that you did. I know it's not the same, but I do understand what it's like to feel that you don't belong," you confess, "I didn't fit in my 'kind' either. Moved out here to start over. I guess you could say I'm still trying to figure some crap out too."

He pauses in thought second before responding, "Do you mind if I ask you something, Y/N?"

"After everything I've asked you? I'd say it's definitely your turn," you chuckle, taking a sip of your forgotten tea.

"I saw you at the bar before you went outside. I couldn't help but notice that you were there by yourself..."

"You noticed correctly. I was supposed to meet someone for a date, but after saying he was on his way, he never showed. I tried to text him, but he blocked me. I don't even know why."

"Nothing like being stood up at some backwater bar," he concludes, frowning, "Well, screw that guy. He's a bum."

"Yeah, I figured that out too late," you agree, then give him a knowing look, "The evening wasn't a total loss. I did meet you, after all."

"That's true," he concedes, playfully stroking his beard, "I may be a half-breed rookie king, but I'm not a bum."

You snort and gesture to the television set on your right, "So much for your marathon though, huh?"

"Ah, that's alright. They were all re-runs anyway."

You raise your eyebrow. "Think I could still hear that impression?"

He holds a finger to his chin in mock deliberation, "Hmmm, have I had enough to drink for that?

"I don't know, have you?" You lean in with anticipation.

He flashes a sly grin. "Of course I bloody have," he declares in the most hackneyed attempt at a British accent you'd ever heard, "And you better listen up, because I'm about to tell you everything there is to know about how to cook a bloody good flounder."

Your sides ache with laughter as he continues to go on a tangent about how to properly sauté shallots and season the perfect demi-glace. The voice sounded nothing like the infamously tempermental chef, of course, but you still thought his attempt was cute. By the time he was yelling at his invisible staff for serving him raw fish, the storm outside had passed, and neither of you noticed.

As Arthur went to light the stove to warm up some "gourmet" SpaghettiOs, still boisterously carrying on as Chef Ramsay, your excited thoughts returned to the story about his parents. You couldn't help but wonder about your own stormy night, the man you had met, and how much of a hand fate had played in it. The horizon seemed so much brighter than before, and for the first time ever, you were grateful to have bought that car.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

ALL MINE. PART 2.

Pairing: Erik × OC (Courtney Rawlins)

Tags: Roleplay, Car Smut, Fall Rain

Part 1

"Damn it all!" Courtney hit the steering wheel furious. "Big ol' pothole in this damn country road... And in the rain of all things." Her car had broken down. She was now parked on the side of the road with her hazard lights on in a no cell service area. "Now what?"

A gentle tap came at her back window. A man who'd pulled over behind her was walking to her door. "I noticed your lights were dim, and your car was stalling. You look like you need a service."

"What's it to ya," Courtney leaned, her face nearly against the glass to eyeball him up close. The nerve of the nigga to be fine in a situation such as this. She cracked the window, her eyes narrowed. He was getting wet out there in his hoodie, his thumbs hitched in the pockets of his distressed denim jeans.

"I'm a mechanic."

"Are ya now?"

"Yes... Country ass. I gotta shop not too far from here," he gestured to the road ahead, "I stopped when I saw you were broken down, stuck out here in the rain."

"I'm not in the rain, sir, you are."

He smiled, long lashes fluttering. "Ok. Let me help you out."

Courtney muttered to herself as he briefly poked around under her hood, letting it back down and leaning into the now half down window with a sniff. "It's the alternator."

"Alternator?" She frowned. "Can't you jump it or something like in the movies?"

"I could jump something," he looked her up and down.

"Aht! You ain't getting in this, I assure you... I'm a LADY."

"K, Lady. Your alternator's dead. Fixing in it costs as much if not more than getting a new one. You're looking at $400-600."

"Where am I supposed to get that kinda money?" Courtney's hands flailed, hitting her knees in frustration.

"You're driving an Audi, you'll find it."

No one else had stopped, and Courtney couldn't call anyone. Not even data worked. He was a handsome guy. She squinted hard, appraising him. "Eh," she bit her nail, hesitating until he turned back to his car. She rolled the window down all the way.

"Wait! You're gonna leave me?"

"LADY... I'm getting soaked, and you don’t have any money."

"Not sitting around!"

"I accept other forms of payment." He shifted his nuts with a grab.

"Or you could help me for free," she murmured, her lip in a pout.

"In the next few seconds, I plan on getting back into my car and driving away."

"Alright, fine!"

"You change your mind?" He walked around to the ditch. "Unlock the door."

"Ugh... YOU'RE ALL WET," she rolled her eyes as he sat in her leather passenger seat. When he pulled down his jeans to free his dick, it was already pointed to the ceiling.

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

"Bring that neck." He palmed her head, bringing it down over his tip. Her body turned, knee in the seat.

She wrapped her fingers around his base and took in the first couple inches, getting it wet with her spit, spread with her tongue. Her tight lips sunk down, spreading the bubbling wetness down an inch from the base. Almost instantly, her head bobbed up and down, her hand on his thigh. The gluck-gluck-glucking of her wet mouth, the zoom of cars passing, and the sound of falling rain on the windshield filled the vehicle. He laid his head back, going hands-free until she took a gasping breath, spit stretching between her full lips. He palmed her head once more, growling lowly until he came.

It was on her tongue, a pool of opaque white that she swallowed easily.

"That's enough?"

"I'll tell you when it's enough. I'm a get you real right. Climb in the backseat."

Traffic had not stopped coming or shaking the car each time another vehicle whooshed by. Courtney watched through the back windshield as the wayward mechanic exposed her ass while it was tooted.

"See, I would've helped you for free, but for getting me soaked, I gotta charge you some way. This the best way." He wrapped a hand around her low natural bun, his pelvis thudding skin to skin with her ass. She braced herself against the back headrests, taking dick and throwing it back to her own pleasure. The back of her thighs were wet from him dragging along his wet clothes, but when he hit the right spot from the start like he knew her, she no longer cared.

"Men are pigs," she muttered, looking back. He grabbed her chin, tilting it back and holding on as he continued to stroke, the thud of their colliding bodies another sound on the rainy day.

"Erik," she breathed, caught in a rhythm of meeting his hips.

"Who?"

Her smile spread, her breath on his face. He sucked her top lip between his before kissing her and spitting a watery drop of his saliva into her open mouth. He then slapped her small ass and let her fall back forward to look through the rear window.

Again, she pushed her hips back, grinding until a police car rode by.

"Aight aight, let's stop," she dropped suddenly paranoid. She didn't want him to swing back or pull over to assist. Wasn't nothing really wrong with the car. Erik looked back and crawled back to the passenger seat, pulling his pants up fast as the cop pulled over ahead. Courtney did the same, jumping back in the driver's seat under the cover of the rain.

"He's not looking," Erik spotted, helping her move. "Relax," he whispered when Courtney's eyes were still big. "We ain't doing nothing wrong. It's not a crime to pull over."

"I know," she whispered back. "I got indica in the glove compartment!"

"Shit..." He popped the compartment open covering the baggie with the manual that was in there. He took out the registration just in case, closing the compartment as the cop reached the driver's window.

Courtney cracked it.

"Everything okay here? You break down?"

"Oh, no! I was having trouble but my boyfriend was behind me. I just had to press some button to get the alert off my screen."

"She's getting used to learning the controls," Erik added.

The cop nodded at him, understanding. It wasn't a lie. Courtney genuinely didn't know a damn thing about cars or what half them symbols on the dash meant. It was believable because it had already happened before.

"You're good now?"

"Yes. It was my mistake, but I've got it now," Courtney smiled. "Thank you."

"Alright," the officer left, returning to his car and eventually pulling off. Courtney sighed and looked to Erik. At the same time, they chuckled, and he got the weed out. "Consider this payment," he smiled, leaving the car before she could snatch him up. He got back in his own car and she kissed her teeth, waiting for the current queue of passing cars to pass before she pulled off too. He was right behind her in the rear view mirror.

"What," she answered on Bluetooth when his call popped up on her screen.

"That was fun. I like how you treated me like some dusty ass nigga and left me out in the rain like you ain't know my ass-"

"YOU SAID TO ACT LIKE I AIN'T KNOW YOU!"

"Nah, it's cool. Next time I'm a get you back! Just kidding... But you know me now, so don't be acting like that."

"I acted too well?" Courtney smirked, meeting his eye in her mirror. She laughed, not thinking that he would be looking.

"Nah, don't change it, it makes things interesting. What we doing next?"

"Hm," she thought. "I'll think about it."

"Can it involve me being dry?"

Her head rolled with silent laughter. "I'll think about it."

The End.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion

[ukrfeminism]

5 minute read

TW: descriptions of sexual violence from the start

“For two hours he tortured me, his hands were everywhere. I thought rape was inevitable, I wondered whether I’d get out alive. We were in an empty property on a quiet cul-de-sac and he’d completely overpowered me.” These are the words of a female estate agent who was attacked by the seller of a property she had gone to value in Essex.

Hers is not a lone voice. Women in the property industry, who frequently visit empty homes alone — either to value them for sellers or to show prospective buyers around — are speaking out about the dangers.

Now, 30 years after the estate agent Suzy Lamplugh was declared dead (seven years after going missing on a viewing in Fulham, west London, with a man who called himself “Mr Kipper”) and 31 years after the Birmingham estate agent Stephanie Slater was kidnapped during a house viewing, women are saying it still isn’t safe to do their job.

Only 22 per cent of estate agents and letting agents, male and female, feel safe when on viewings, while 82 per cent say estate agent safety isn’t taken seriously enough — according to a survey of 150 agents across the country Allan Fuller an estate agent in Putney, southwest London.

The case of the estate agent in Essex, who spoke anonymously to The Times, was dropped by the Crown Prosecution Service last year, two days before coming to court. “I am furious, he had the money to hire a big shot lawyer. I feel let down,” she says. “It has been absolutely horrendous. It had a massive effect on my whole life: my relationship of 15 years broke down and I ended up on antidepressants and having panic attacks every time I went on a valuation.”

Although she has now moved agencies, she continues to work as an estate agent. “I thought, if I give up my job, he has won again — and I love my job.” However, she insists her female colleagues carry rape alarms, check in before and after house visits, and follow strict protocols about leaving doors open in properties and never getting into cars with sellers or potential buyers.

Fuller says: “There is a common misperception in the industry that ‘it won’t happen to me’.”

The responses to Fuller’s survey show that it does happen. One female respondent who works in the West Midlands wrote: “I recently valued a property and met with a man accused of domestic violence and I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life. He proceeded to show me an over-stair cupboard and said that there was ‘enough space for three dead bodies’. I left quickly after that.”

Other comments included:

“During a repossession the owner climbed into the loft and was threatening with a knife. Police had to taser him twice to safely remove him.”

“Carrying out a market appraisal with a gentleman who revealed he was due in court the next day to be charged with rape.”

“I believed a viewer was carrying a knife on a viewing, they were trying to get me into a certain room. The vibe wasn’t good, so I managed to email my office an SOS. Two members of staff came and pretended to be the next viewers.”

And: “I was covering a valuation and the person locked me in without me knowing and as I went to leave he went to hug me. I had to duck under his arm and unlatch the door quickly to get out.”

It’s not just on visits that workers are vulnerable, though. One estate agent told The Times how she was assaulted by a prospective buyer while working alone in an office in Oxford on a dark December evening. After being cornered, by the photocopier, she says she managed to “thump him in the windpipe” and run for help. He was arrested and charged. She now insists all her staff carry rape alarms and follow strict safety rules in and out of the office.

Fuller says he makes staff safety a priority too, sending his staff on self-defence courses — “one tip I picked up was if a man is making an unwanted move on a woman she should look as if she’s about to be sick, they soon back off” — issuing rape alarms, fitting CCTV and insisting that prospective buyers and sellers visit the office, verify their name and address, and are captured on camera before going on viewings.

Claire Lewis, 65, was an estate agent in Putney at the time Lamplugh went missing. She says: “Everyone was so shocked, we’d been getting into cars with prospective clients and going on viewings with men. It never occurred to us that anything could happen. That all changed and we suddenly became much more aware.”

However, she now worries for her daughter, Charlotte Dale, 34, a part-time estate agent in southwest London. “Generally things seem more dangerous for women even though they have mobile phones. Whereas in the past men acted in isolation — now they receive validation and encouragement on the internet,” Lewis says.

The estate agent from Essex, who was tortured for two hours, says she wants to see a national campaign to draw attention to the dangers: “Some estate agents seem to care more about protecting assets, with money laundering checks etc, than they do about protecting their staff. This has to change.”

[leclercskiesahead]

body

“Why are you, as a beefy man, not laying on top of me?"

skdjfhskfgl so i wrote this quick little thing inspired by this and this enjoy some charlos with a healthy dose of shirtless carlos

When Charles lands, he barely has the chance to catch his breath before he is whisked away to some PR event. It is a small one, thankfully, not in public. But by the time he finally checks into the hotel, he is more exhausted than he thought he would be, and dozes off while checking his phone after a shower.

When he wakes up, the sun has fully set. He checks the time on his phone, sees the message he needs. He’s still a little sluggish from his nap, but he gets a little extra spring as he hops off the bed.

He finds the room quickly enough. They are on different floors, which is a bit annoying, but it can’t be helped sometimes. He knocks and waits with bated breath.

Carlos doesn’t keep him waiting long, the wooden door opening to reveal his dark, luscious locks and large brown eyes, already staring right into Charles’.

"Hello mate."

Carlos waits until he is inside and the door is shut before returning his greeting.

"Hola, mi amor." Lips are pressed to his forehead. "How was the event?"

"Mhm, as usual."

Carlos is wearing a gray shirt and a plain pair of sweats. He pulls the shirt over his head as they make their way into the hotel room, and Charles admires how the action reveals an expanse of toned back.

The subject of his ogling looks back over his shoulder. "Mate, did you fall asleep?" Carlos admonishes as he frees his arms from the sleeves. "Now you will be a bit jet-lagged."

Charles suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. There isn’t a big time difference, and the race schedule more or less lets them stay on European time. Leave it to Carlos to still make plans for jet lag.

Before he can retort, Carlos speaks again. "Have you had dinner?"

There had been food served at the event, but that was already a few hours ago, and probably lighter than what Charles needs to get in the car tomorrow.

Carlos is, of course, prepared for this. Because he is. So Charles helps himself to the extra room service Carlos had ordered while Carlos takes his shower.

Carlos emerges from the bathroom with just a towel around his waist. They have been together long enough that Charles can appraise the naked torso in front of him without an uncontrollable urge to run away and hide until he calmed down or jump Carlos there and then (mostly just the latter as time went on). They can’t tonight, not before they both have to drive for the next three days. Now, Charles can take in the sight knowing that in just a few days he will get a piece, a touch, a taste.

He washes up to the sound of a hairdryer in the background. When he reenters the room, Carlos is still blowing his hair. It has grown out nicely (as it always does), at the length that would flow beautifully off the nape of Carlos’ neck in the paddock tomorrow.

Charles flops backwards onto the bed. His gaze trails downwards to those sculpted shoulders and strong arms, flexing to hold the hairdryer aloft, conjuring up other images of those arms lifting weights, swinging a padel racket, or wrapping around Charles’ waist.

The dryer noise stops. Carlos turns, and Charles takes in the sight of his boyfriend’s chest again. He hasn’t shaved, Charles notes. The smattering of dark hair across those defined pecs and abs is visible even from this distance.

A warm feeling curls inside Charles’ gut.

"What did you do today?" he asks. He knows the answer is probably golf or squash.

"Played some golf," Carlos answers as he pulls on some boxers and sleep shorts. "Had a meeting for some media next week, just to confirm the plan. Then a quick stretch with Rupert."

"Mm, certo," Charles hums. Carlos has yet to join him in bed, mulling about as he finds a place to hang the no longer needed bath towel. "I heard this word today, in English."

He waits for Carlos to hang the towel up - smoothing it out neatly as he does - before continuing.

"Beefy."

Carlos’ brows lift, one higher than the other, in a bemused smile. So he knows what the word means. Charles feels the corners of his lips gently pulling upwards as well. "Oh really?"

"Yes." Charles cranes his neck from where he is lying down to prop his head up and fix Carlos with an appraising stare. "Why are you, as a beefy man, not laying on top of me?"

"Ah, Cabrón, am I just a weighted blanket to you?" Carlos’ tone is light and just a little bit teasing, all while he stalks slowly towards the bed, the smile on his face slowly turning into a look that is almost smug.

Charles tries to keep a serious face. "Yes." He bursts into giggles.

A warm smile, too, cracks across Carlos’ face, showing his teeth, and he throws himself onto Charles, just as he had asked for. Charles lets out a soft oof—more in jest than anything, as Carlos catches himself before his weight actually knocks the air out of Charles—which is followed by more giggles.

That is, until Carlos pulls his face level with Charles, just inches between their lips, and Charles can feel his hot breath as he speaks.

"I cannot be too beefy, cariño, or I will be too heavy for the car."

Charles lifts his hands off the bedspread and lets them run up and down the length of Carlos’ arms, over his shoulders, spreading across his shoulder blades, feeling down that toned back.

"Mmm, but you are..." he murmurs, giving one tricep a squeeze.

He isn’t a stranger to muscular bodies. He is an athlete; he works with and fights against other athletes, and they all train, and sweat, and take their shirts off, and examine themselves in the gym. He has seen bodies, looked in a mirror and seen his own.

But only one body does something to him, and that very body is lying on top of him, pressing him into the bed with its delicious weight, covering him with warmth, embracing him with its sweet smell, shifting under and responding to his touch.

"I have very good-looking…muscles…" Carlos’ breath is hot in his ear. "I saw you looking."

"I am always looking," Charles retorts, though his voice sounds heady.

He feels the rumble in Carlos’ chest rather than hear his chuckle before plush lips are pressed to his again. Strong arms wrap around him and they both shift. Carlos keeps an arm around him as he wrangles the covers out from under their bodies, then back over them both. Charles sighs and presses his face into Carlos’ neck.

He doesn’t remember dozing off, but when he wakes up, his head is resting on Carlos’ chest.

[breezybangtanbebe]

Got My Number: Hyunwoo❤️ Part One

A/N: Hyunwoo(Shownu) x reader. I wrote this in celebration of Daddy Bear completing his mandatory military service...a nice story of childhood friends being reunited after years.

First love, Friends to Lovers,Cheating 🌚 (don't you judge..the song is saying "holla at me if ya mans aint doing it right" ) , passionate smut. Grown folks type vibes.

Part 2 TBA🥰

4k words

"Booger?"

You abruptly stop loading your groceries in the back of your car and lift your head.

The sound of his voice was almost haunting and for a moment you think you're mistaken or hearing things until you hear him again. Turning away from your reusable bag-filled cart, you spot a tall figure walking towards you blocking out the sun.

"Booger...I can't believe it, it's really you..."

"Hyunwoo?" You said, shielding the brightness with your hand until he was close enough for you to see.

It was him, though very different from the last time you'd seen him.

He was taller, perhaps an inch over 6 feet. He was leaner, having shed away his adolescent fluffiness to replace it with bulking muscles that were apparent even under his layers of clothing.

Even the shape of his face was drastically different, dawning a more chiseled jawline and cheekbones that were hidden by his boyish roundness for the years you knew him.

But you couldn't mistake those eyes and that smile anywhere.

It was him.

And good lord, how puberty did him well.

"Holy shit...look at you." He smiles brightly, stopping a foot away from where you stood with a small watermelon in your grasp. He gives you an appraising once over, probably thinking the same thing you were in reaction to how much you've changed since he last saw you.

But in your winter coat, sweater, and jeans, you hardly felt like much to look at next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Is all you can stammer out, regarding the baby melon ruefully before setting it down to join the rest of the groceries in your trunk. Hyunwoo smirks.

"Um...this is where they sell food right?" He asks sarcastically, pointing to the entrance of the ALDI behind you. You glance back as if you didn't know it was there and scoff.

"No! I mean here..back in the city."

Hyunwoo shrugs at the question as he stepped forward, now observing the amount of bags you still had left to load in your trunk with a slight frown.

"Just visiting. My cousin is getting married Saturday so I just touched down last night." He resumes and you nod in understanding.

"Oh! Thats Awesome. Good for him...So, how's everyone doing?" You follow up, now back to loading your trunk. But this time Hyunwoo joins in, grasping a few bags by the handle and lifting them effortlessly from the cart.

"Everyone's good. Thanks for asking." He says distractedly as he figured out where to place the bags.

"What about you? How's your mom? And hey, I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother. She was such a sweet woman." He pauses his movements to say and you smile at the concern in his voice. Growing up, the two of you spent many days hanging around at your grandmother's house. Especially during the summer.

Both of your parents worked a lot, especially Hyunwoo's single mother, and it was common for him to spend those overtime days with you and your family.

Essentially becoming a part of it.

"Thanks. We all took her passing hard but other than that, everyone's great." You respond honestly, your sad smile melting into one of gratitude that Hyunwoo appreciates.

"That's good to hear.." he smirks.

After loading the final bag in your trunk, Hyunwoo reaches up to pull the door down just enough for you to reach it without jumping, and his teasing smirk at your lack of height have you blushing.

"So...I hear you've been traveling the world huh?" You divert quickly to seem unphased, slamming the trunk door down to secure it shut. Once it is, Hyunwoo nods in confirmation and leans his shoulder against the back window of your SUV.

"Something like that. My company kinda takes me all over the place. Where ever they need me, I pretty much go. I'm actually considering taking an extended assignment here." He adds and you perk up with interest without realizing it.

It had been damn near 20 years since you had seen Hyunwoo in person and while he was your closest friend during childhood, much had changed.

"Yeah? Thats great...I mean, I bet your family would love that. Having you back home and stuff...Especially your mom."

Hyunwoo's little smile widens at the mention of his mother. The woman who sacrificed so much to ensure he had a future beyond the city he was brought up in.

"Yeah, she's the main one encouraging me to take it. It'll be a change of pace but I could use a break from moving around so much. So it's on my mind."

You nod at his response, failing to keep your gaze from dropping to his chest which was damn near level with your face. He couldn't possibly have gotten taller...

"Well as you can see, I haven't left." you chuckled, blinking away the distraction of imagining Hyunwoo's pecs. He frowns at your words, tilting his head curiously.

"It's a big city. Most people don't." he shrugs and you shake your head.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better. Sure the city is big but...I don't know." you trail off, feeling your mood take an unexpected turn that you were sure Hyunwoo could detect.

You went to college and you traveled some when you could. Not far but just enough to get that 'change of scenery' feel. But you couldn't bring yourself to uproot your life and step out on faith in a completely new place.

Truth was, you were afraid to leave. Everything about this city was so familiar and fear kept you from broadening your horizons in favor of remaining content in your comfort.

The thought is more depressing now that you were standing before someone from your past, reminding you just how much has changed beyond the little slice of the world you called home.

A forced smile of indifference tugs at your lips and you shrug the thoughts away.

"Doesn't matter though. Anyway...so you'll be in town for about a week, you said?" you ask and Hyunwoo nods.

"Give or take a day. I may or may not head out right after the wedding. We should catch up though. Maybe we can meet for lunch or something this week and you can tell me all about what's changed around here.." he suggests casually.

Your mouth opens just as you're about to respond and as cruel as fate tends to be, a gentle hand at your waist has your response dying on your tongue. You turn and are greeted by an abrupt kiss on the lips from David.

Your husband of 8 years.

He'd appeared so suddenly that you flinch when he kisses you, blinking up at him guiltily for a second.

He doesn't seem irritated though by the softness in his gaze and he smiles fondly at you.

"I looked up and you were gone, what happened?" he asks, acting as if Hyunwoo weren't standing well within earshot.

"Well your phone rang so...I told you I was heading out to the car.." you begin and David abruptly turns his head to finally acknowledge the 6-foot-tall specimen leaning against our car.

"Who's this?" He asks politely, regarding Hyunwoo with a curious smile. You have to blink a few times before remembering your manners and you clear the roughness from your throat to introduce your past to your present.

"Oh, um...Babe this is Hyunwoo. We pretty much grew up together. He's in town for a family wedding. Hyunwoo, this is my...Husband. David." you prattle out as your husband reaches to shake Hyunwoo's offered hand. The words feel like 20-pound weights straining against your tongue for some reason and you stand by awkwardly as they greeted each other cordially.

At the word, Hyunwoo's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he releases David's hand.

"Husband. Wow... that's... that's great. Congratulations Booger.." he says and David's brow crinkles.

The nickname isn't any more charming now than it was back then and you roll your eyes at it in resentment before smiling.

"Thank you.." David responds for you, hugging you close into his side possessively.

Now, you hadn't known your husband to be an insecure man but you could tell he felt the need to exaggerate his claim on you in the presence of such an obviously attractive man. And to be honest, you couldn't blame him.

Making eye contact with Hyunwoo for more than a few seconds felt like a sin and part of you was glad David had shown up when he had.

An awkward spell settles over the three of you where Hyunwoo regarded me with an unreadable yet amused look on his face, while David glanced between the two of you with a melting smile and furrowed brow.

"Well......we should really get going. Wouldnt want the ice cream to melt.

" he says suddenly, nodding stiffly towards Hyunwoo as he grabbed the shopping carts handle. Hyunwoo reaches for the other side, insisting that he had it and would take it back in for them.

"You sure?" David asks half-heartedly and Hyunwoo nods.

"Of course! Don't let me hold you all up. Boog, hit me up this week. We can all get lunch on me if the two of you aren't busy.." he says and you smile at the idea just as David uses a bit more force to guide you towards the passenger side of the car.

You resist a little, glancing back at him curiously before waving goodbye to Hyunwoo.

"Uhm..yeah! Sure...We will" you respond, a little to David's dismay.

Hyunwoo bites down on his smirk at the way David opens your door with a little more force than was needed as he began pushing the cart towards the store's entrance.

"Great. You've got my number..." he calls over his shoulder, making you pause.

"The same number from 2010?" you toss back and Hyunwoo turns to nod.

"Same one." he smiles, its effect much more dazzling now that the sun was shining directly on his face. And it's then that you see a semblance of the boy you once knew. Friendly and dependable. Honest and endearing.

You're admittedly taken aback by the effect his smile has you falling silent and David gives you a questioning look before making sure you were tucked into the car as he shut the door.

Approximately a decade and a half ago...

"Just close your eyes and put your lips like this"

Hyunwoo wrinkles his nose humorously at the way you were pursing your lips at him, seated on your knees in front of him on the grassy ground behind your grandmother's house.

"You look stupid." he chortles, shaking his head. You opened your eyes when you heard him snort and couldn't help but join him. You shove at his shoulder gently as he laughed at your offended expression.

"You wouldn't know what I looked like if you were listening. I told you to close your eyes..." you scold. Hyunwoo rolls his eyes behind his thick-lensed glasses.

"But then how will I know where my lips are going?" He blinks slowly and you pout at the question, glancing around in uncertainty for a moment.

"I don't know...You'll just know! Look, do you want my help or not?" you huffed in frustration. Hyunwoo's expression crinkles skeptically and he scrunches his nose as he pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

"I'm starting to have second thoughts. Doesn't seem like you know what you're doing."

That was because you didn't.

At 12 there wasn't much anyone would know about kissing beyond what was seen on television and in movies. And those paid actors and actresses made it look simple enough.

So when Hyunwoo expressed his worry about being the only boy on the junior swim team that hadn't kissed a girl yet, you felt like it was high time he had some sort of experience.

Even if it was just with you.

"Well you're the one who lied and told everyone you knew how to kiss," you remark, making Hyunwoo's expression go sour.

"I only did it 'cause they were messing with me..." he sniffles to adjust his glasses again, turning away to scowl at the grass and dirt beside him.

You didn't understand the fascination those stupid boys had with Hyunwoo and where his lips had been.

He was quiet, unassuming, a little awkward, and the least likely in the school to be seen smooching with girls their age because of how shy he was.

"I don't know why it matters that much to abunch of boys anyway. They should mind their business." You say, sucking your teeth.

Hyunwoo shrugs with indifference as he picked at a fallen twig next to his leg.

"Yeah well... there's one upside to me moving..." he mutters and you lift your head at his pause, now watching him lift the twig and snap it in half passive-aggressively.

"I won't have to deal with those jerks anymore..." he finishes, tossing the stick across the yard and dusting his hand on the knee of his pants.

"Yeah..." you say, your tone painfully melancholy.

He says nothing as he examined his palm, crinkling his brow and pouting as if his thoughts were far from the splinters and dirt scattered over his hand.

After exhaling, he sits up on his knees.

"Alright. I'm ready now."  Hyunwoo sighs again and relaxes his shoulders in surrender before doing as you'd told him before. His small eyes are reduced to slits behind his glasses and his lips pout adorably as he waited.

For a moment you hesitate, only staring at his lips and the steady flow of sadness overcomes you.

Not because the idea of kissing your best friend was appalling.

It was the fact that it would be the first and last time you'd ever do it. Since in 24 hours, he would be getting on a plane with his mother and brother and leaving the childhood he spent with you behind.

New life and new opportunities were something to be celebrated in most cases but the idea of losing the one person who didn't make you feel as ostracized by your peers when he was around made your stomach turn.

Hyunwoo was..is..your best friend.

And perhaps back then you didn't understand the twisted ache that churned in your chest when you were around him to be butterflies, but you knew at that moment that you felt something that wasn't platonic for him.

And this kiss might be all you'd have...

"Ugh...this is dumb. I'll just take my chances with.."

Cutting him off mid-sentence, you place both of your hands on Hyunwoo's chubby cheeks and place your lips against his.

He tenses at first, his eyes going wide and his glasses tilting slightly. But the longer the warmth of your lips pressed against his, he relaxes and his eyes flutter shut.

The butterflies swarmed in your chest and fluttered frantically in your belly. There's no movement. There's no sound.

But it would be a lie to say that the world didn't stop moving for a moment when you finally kissed him.

You pull away just in time to see Hyunwoo blink dazedly, his glasses pushed crooked and his lips stuck in the same adorable pout they were before. Except now, the pink of his lips shined a bit from your lip balm.

For a second you sat there in disbelief, questioning what had come over you so suddenly and why the hell did kissing your best friend make your heart gallop.

Hyunwoo's eyes slowly peeled open and they fall on your blushed face.

He swallows nervously and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth out of habit, tasting your strawberry chapstick.

Your eyes widen at the action, making the dorkiest and most adorable chuckle bubble up from inside of your best friend.

His eyes are reduced to slits when he smiles and a blush ran rampant over his cherub cheeks so suddenly that you couldn't help but join him.

You expected him to be stunned or repulsed even.

But he's only tickled.

"Well?" you ask timidly, your giggles tapering off as Hyunwoo finds his breath. He shrugs his shoulders with his usual nonchalance, pushing his glasses up by scrunching his nose in his usual way.

"Well...it didn't suck" he grunts and you roll your eyes.

"Gee..thanks." You respond, trying to sound as if you didn't care what he thought of the brief connection.

The cyan sky fills your view as you leaned back to lay against the earth, not caring about the dirt and bugs that could be crawling beneath you.

You don't spare him a glance but you could tell Hyunwoo was staring at you dubiously and you resist the urge to scoff and ask him why.

You knew why.

But the boy says nothing as he slowly eased onto his back beside you to join in on the cloud gazing.

"Hey, Booger?"  Hyunwoo says after several minutes of semi-comfortable silence.

You shift your head in the grass to look over at him.

"Yeah?"

Hyunwoo doesn't reciprocate the regard, remaining with his squinted eyes fixed on the rolling billows of white above him.

His expression give nothing away, as it never did, but you could tell in the way his brow shifted that he was conflicted.

"Thanks." is all he can think to say and you smirk at the sentiment before resuming your gaze up at the sky.

"Don't mention it..."

"So....booger huh?

Your husband's voice interrupts your deeply sated daydream that's disguised as interest in whatever was on the screen of your laptop. You lift your head from your abandoned work to find David walking into the bedroom from the master bathroom.

He's fresh from the shower, wearing a pair of grey belted slacks with no shirt. He shuffles a towel through his damp hair roughly and your eyes glazed up his body, pausing at his face as he regarded you expectedly.

Your brows perk up behind your glasses.

"What was that?" you ask and your husband chuckles dryly as he approached his side of the bed. He exhales as he sits, tossing the smaller towel aside.

"Oh I was just wondering about that nickname your friend called you earlier.." he glances over his shoulder at you, amusement clear in his expression.

It only takes a millisecond for your expression to respond for you, and your eyes roll sardonically as they returned to your computer screen.

"Oh, that. Don't ask." You mutter with a tiny shake of the head and David smirks.

"Well, now Im really curious. I bet there's an interesting story there" he resumes, turning his back to you once more and leaning over towards his dresser.

"Not really. It's just a nickname that Hyunwoo made up and would use to bug me when we were kids. It just kind of stuck." you shrug, tapping away at the keyboard.

David grunts at the response, its indication is clear.

"Sounds like you two have been friends for a while. When did you lose contact?" he follows up as he pulls a sleeveless undershirt over his head.

"Um....back in middle school I think. We were in contact a little in high school and college but I haven't seen him since we were kids," you respond distractedly, glazing over some article you were reviewing and David makes the sound again.

The same little grunt jutting from his diaphragm that has you glancing over at him over your glasses.

You watch your husband's back for a moment, admiring the way his muscles and broad shoulders were complimented by the fit of his undershirt. Your head tilts as you watched him shrug on the navy blue button-up shirt he'd ironed and laid out earlier.

"He's handsome," David says suddenly and you straighten your head with a frown. Before you can respond, David shoots you another amused look over his shoulder as he buttoned his shirt. Your eyes narrow into incredulous slits at the way he was looking at you, almost as if he'd caught your hand in the cookie jar and was waiting for you to admit that you were guilty.

"Is he? Looks the same to me as when we were little.." you respond with a shrug and David scoffs humorlessly as he turned away.

"Right.." he stands, finishing off the top button of his shirt before tucking it in.

You watch David continue to dress himself and pack his suitcase silently, him not even acting as if showering for 30 minutes and wearing cologne to go back to catch a flight on a weeknight wasn't suspicious.

He'd told you before he hopped in the shower of his plans but you felt like probing.

"So tell me again why you're flying out to Chicago this late?" you ask, trying not to sound so accusatory and David furrows his brow at you as he kneeled to tie the staple waxed cotton laces of his dress shoes.

"I thought I told you earlier, babe.... there's an issue with my client. They need some help with their upcoming testimony and this was the best time for them to meet," he responds as casually as he told you before.

That's when the tension set in your jawline and that uneasy feeling of your intuition nagging at you boils in your gut.

He was lying.

You knew he was lying when he'd told you the first time.

For months you'd notice a change in David's behavior. It started subtly. The impromptu out-of-town meetings on weekends or staying at the firm long after business hours were over.

The constant excuses to take a call in another room or leaving his phone face down at the dinner table.

You didnt want to make an issue of it at first. David hadnt given you any reason before to suspect him of being unfaithful and his absence had been something you'd grown used to when he was assigned big cases in the past.

But something was different lately.

"This short of notice though?" you say anyway, just wanting to be humored by his lies. David is finishing up on his other shoe by the time you respond and he nods distractedly as he stood.

"Yep....look I'll try to be back by Friday but you know how these things are babe. This is a big case..everything has to be..."

"...has to be perfect. Yeah. I get it." you interrupt him, not hiding your resentment at all now.

David pauses to look at you, watching the way you were now nose-deep with focus on what was on your computer, refusing to engage any further.

He waits a moment, expecting another question to come as he buttoned his cuffs, but you said nothing.

You were tired of asking questions you knew you wouldn't get the true answer to and part of you felt like he knew it too.

David sighs before turning away and you steal a glance at his back as he collected his luggage, wallet, phone, and keys from the shelf near the door.

"Oh...Don't wait around ok? I don't want you to miss out on any beauty rest. We have that banquet coming up." he stops to say and you mumble something amidst his rushed 'I love you' as he made his exit.

He didn't even bother to kiss you goodbye like he used to, and it admittedly stung despite part of you being grateful.

And as the door closed, the leak in the dam of your emotions springs free and rolls singularly down your cheek.

"Love you too.."

A/N:

Smuts in Part 2😜

[nyamadermont]

Setting the Stage

#FFF184 Set the Stage

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

901 words

[Image ID: A rectangle with vertical red stripes like a stage curtain, with the text “#FFF184 Set the Stage” centered in white.]

Today’s the day.

Kya’s mind was already racing before her eyes opened. She took stock of the sunlight and shadows outside, and gave herself about six hours.

The hospital was aware that calling her in had best be for a very short list of very serious reasons, at least three of which were not physically possible (to her knowledge). She knew Opal and Jinora were serious about their boyfriends, but none of them were becoming parents any time soon. Lin was out of town, so should not be in any danger whatsoever of winding up on a surgical table. And her mother was safely at the South Pole, under Senna’s watchful eye.

She wriggled under the sheets, greedily stretching out in all directions. She contracted her stomach to sit upright and stretch with a playful groan.

The cool breeze from the window thrilled her skin, and spread a smile across her face.

Time to get busy!

With unaccustomed speed, she cleaned up, got dressed, and ate a decent breakfast.

The whole time, she was nearly dancing with excitement.

Her list was ready. Her money was ready. Her (ok, Lin’s) sato was ready. Now, for everything else.

The pickup at the dress shop? Too much fun to rush. Done.

Swinging in at the tailor’s? Can’t turn down the offer of tea. That would be rude. But soon enough, done.

A stop by the florist? Done in minutes.

A last pass through the grocery store? Took about ten minutes too long, but done.

Everything collected, Kya struck out for the park.

She pulled into the lot and parked. The cart she brought wasn’t quite big enough for everything, so suddenly, she had a bit of a problem. One hand on her hip, she glared at her car, thinking hard.

“Hey, Kya!”

The voice carried from far across the parking area. She turned to see Korra and Asami, hand in hand, walking over in her direction. She watched them, clearly happy to see her, but still quite focused on each other. She felt about four different smiles cross her face before the pair made it close enough for hugs.

Asami took a step back, and gave her predicament a professional appraisal. “Could you use a couple of hands carrying a few things?” Kya could see the narrowed eyes, the tightly restrained smirk.

I think she’s on to me.

“Hands? Who needs hands? You have the Avatar at your service!”

With that, Korra swirled her hands, and lifted the cart on a tightly spun wheel of air. Kya and Asami laughed, but pulled out the final few items. They wandered through the park until they came up to a small pavilion with a low stone table.

In just a moment, the girls had set up a small tent, hanging the two garment bags inside. Korra’s airbending came in handy as she strung lights and a few red curtains in strategic locations around the pavilion's eaves.

Asami took charge of the food and flowers, laying out a luscious display on the table and setting the cushions just as Kya would have. When she stepped back, she noticed Korra was settling back to the ground. Kya’s back was turned and Asami waved to attract Korra’s attention. With some vigorous eyebrow wiggles and wide-eyed encouragement, she finally got through Korra’s obliviousness.

Korra gasped.

Kya snapped up straight. “Korra? What’s wrong?”

Korra’s face lit up. “You’re just setting the stage, aren’t you?” She clasped her hands close to her chest. “Can we watch from over,” she whirled around and saw a far too-small bush just below the foot of the bridge. “There! That’s the same bush I hid in my first day in Republic City!”

She turned her eager face back to Kya, whose bemused grin gave Asami all the clue she needed to get the Avatar as far away as possible.

“Korra, dear, you promised Meelo.”

Korra looked confused. “Promised him what?”

Asami rolled her eyes dramatically before giving Kya a sideways glance. “Someone has to look out for them, right?”

Kya just laughed and hugged them both. “Thank you. I have a lot more time because of your help. I think we’ll see you later tonight.”

Asami was still laughing when Kya couldn’t see them anymore.

She picked up the basket of peonies and walked back to the car. Retracing her steps one more time, she laid them in an obvious path to the pavilion, leading right up to the tent. She ducked inside, and a few minutes later, emerged from the other side.

She settled onto her cushion to wait.

Lin said the two words she was asked to, then nothing again for several minutes.

Kya stood in her fitted blue suit, the setting sun lighting her from behind.

Lin emerged from the tent in the long-sleeved, deep-cut, high-slit emerald dress, her feet bare on the grass.

Kya stepped forward with a cup of tea.

Lin stared at her as Kya placed the cup in her hands and gently pushed her to drink. Lin held her gaze and drank.

She blinked and lowered the cup. She blinked rapidly several times before waving her hand above it.

A small gold ring floated up into her hand. She looked at Kya.

“You want me?”

Kya just nodded, her eyes bright.

Lin clenched the ring in her hand and leaned forward for a kiss.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

[ibetonlosingroys]

Hunger

"He’s a little concerned however, that if he keeps on puking up his guts like this, his stomach lining will turn inside out and completely expel itself from his body. So, he thinks of the next best solution. If he doesn’t eat anything, there will be nothing to throw up. Simple."

TW for depiction of disordered eating behavior and thoughts, and for Roman being Roman

Read on ao3:

It’s not a disorder, he didn’t go weird, he’s not some teenage girl living off of diet cokes to fit into her prom dress, he’s just sick. He’s not doing it on purpose, he just can’t keep anything down. In the days since his father passed, his stomach has rebelled against any morsel of food he’s put into it. After countless bouts of retching into the toilet, his shaking hands reached for his phone only once before he stopped himself. Who would he call? He can’t call Tabitha, she’s made that very clear, he can’t call Gerri given the fact he fired her a few days ago, and he can’t call his siblings on the assumption that they won’t be much better off than him. He’s a little concerned however, that if he keeps on puking up his guts like this, his stomach lining will turn inside out and completely expel itself from his body. So, he thinks of the next best solution. If he doesn’t eat anything, there will be nothing to throw up. Simple.

Sure, his vision swims when he stands up too fast, he shivers with the slightest breeze, and his mind is trapped in a fog, but he also feels entirely empty, which is not an unpleasant feeling. In fact, Roman even prefers it to the overpowering swell of emotions he had been feeling before, all replaced by a dull ache that somebody different might call hunger. He relishes in the feeling of ice cold water hitting his empty stomach, the chill passing through each of his individual ribs before settling. A rumbling growl follows, almost catching Roman by surprise, it’s not like there’s anything in there to digest. He giggles at his own joke, finding his eyes in the mirror. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he returns to the task at hand, adjusting the perfectly starched collar of his shirt so he can play the role of functioning human man for the next several hours. He appraises his reflection, running his fingers through his hair until he’s satisfied. After a brief pause to ensure his stomach is settled, he makes his way to the waiting car, steeling himself for an evening of rubbing elbows with the country’s most pasty-faced political elite.

Roman floats into the entryway, lacking any real concrete memories of the drive over here. Like two magnets, he finds himself gravitating to Shiv’s side within seconds, feeling relieved to see her despite this party taking place in her and Tom’s home. “Hey Ro, I’m glad you could make it” she brightens minutely, patting his back in greeting and turning away from whatever conversation she had been having with her husband. “Yeah, yeah,” he responds, voice too high, “Thanks for doing this whole,” he gestures vaguely around the room, “you know, tradition and all that, it’s good,” he trails off. Since when did he have trouble finding words to say, around Shiv of all people. “Oh yeah, tradition,” she smiles slyly, “and definitely nothing to do with controlling the narrative of American democracy right until the bitter end.” They laugh and Roman’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Shiv notices. She always does, that bitch.

“Get something to drink?” she asks. “Oh, I’m just gonna have water,” Roman responds automatically. That was the wrong answer. Shiv’s gaze narrows impossibly further before she waves Tom off to fetch Roman a beverage. Wouldn’t want to bother any of the fleet of service staff she hired for that exact purpose. “You okay?” She tries in vain to sound nonchalant. “Well Shibhoan, now that you mention it, there is the slight matter of our father dying,” he takes delight in seeing her flinch, “so I don’t know, that may be putting a little damper on my spirits.” She punches his shoulder with a, “Fuck you.” before continuing. “You look like shit is all,” she shrugs, matter of fact, “Have you been sleeping? Or eating?”

Roman’s head snaps up and he tries to cover it with an eye roll. He sets aside the slight thrill he feels at her having possibly noticed his lack of sustenance. It’s only been three days, could he really look any different? Different enough for Shiv to have that stricken look on her face that Roman can’t stand. “Well we can’t all be eating our feelings. I thought I’d leave that to you.” And just like that, the look is gone, replaced by utter contempt, something that Roman is much more comfortable with. “You’re disgusting,” she spits back. Tom is making his way back over to them and Roman sighs in relief, knowing Shiv will be giving up her halfhearted interrogation. She wouldn’t dare talk about anything real in front of an outsider, especially Tom. He snatches the glass from his hand without so much as a thank you and turns to make his escape. “Well, I’d better go and mingle,” he wiggles his fingers on the last word, already several paces away.

“I hope you feel better soon!” Shiv calls after him, just loud enough to be heard by others around them. He can feel the heat of people’s eyes on him, gluing him to the spot. He can’t let this go on. He laughs dismissively, theatrically gesturing with his water glass. “Yeah I’ll feel amazing once I get my hands on something a little stronger,” he announces before making a beeline for the bar. Feeling the nauseating need to prove a point, and also just the need to have a drink, he orders himself a bourbon and all but slams it back. It burns all the way down, churning his empty stomach and singing him from the inside out. A flush rises to his ears and he steadies himself against the bar, swallowing back the familiar taste of bile. Naturally, he orders another one. And a double after that when he finishes just as quickly.

Roman feels amazing. The best he’s felt since Dad died. It’s like he’s a helium balloon, weightless, floating above the party. Everyone looks so small from up here, he can’t believe he ever paid any of them any mind. He could get used to this feeling. His thoughts are like grains of sand falling through a sieve. Nothing sticks, and so nothing can hurt him. And then, she’s there. All it takes is a glimpse of her blonde hair, a whiff of her perfume, and he’s crashing back down to Earth. “Gerri.”

“Roman,” she replies, not making eye contact. She places her empty martini glass on the bar, signaling for another. “Listen,” he begins before he’s cut off by a single tilt of her head. “We’re not talking about that,” she declares, cold as ice. Roman wasn’t even sure what he was preparing to say, words sinking into the muck of his brain before they can make their way out of his mouth. He sips his drink obediently, savoring the sting as it goes down, and Gerri takes her first glance at him. Her eyes linger a moment, traveling down and then up before settling on his face. “Your sister was asking about you.” She turns away to thank the bartender and Roman lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Bitch,” he murmurs. “I told her that was none of my concern,” she continues, before allowing her gaze to soften, “But is there any reason, you know… for my concern?” And it’s the closest thing they’ve had to a real conversation in months. Which is maybe why Roman finds himself being a bit more honest than he planned to be when he says. “I’m just sick is all, a little bug, no big deal. Unless you want to feed me soup and tuck me into bed,” he shrugs. “Oh yeah. Sure,” she agrees and Roman feels himself relax. So much so that he almost doesn’t notice when his stomach erupts with a ferocious growl, drawing Gerri’s gaze sharply back to him. “Wanna get something to eat?” she asks. “Bleh. Shiv put you up to this?” Roman pushes back from the bar, blinking away the floaters in his eyes. “You know, actually, this is what’s wrong with this country!” he shouts, gesturing around at the patriotic themed nibbles being carried around on trays, “This obsession with food and junk, no wonder everyone here weighs five hundred pounds and gets hosed off on the front porch to shower.” His words are getting garbled now. Roman catches the eye of a waiter with a tray full of sliders and signals him over, plucking the horrifically tacky American flag toothpick out of the center before shoving the majority of one into his mouth with a single bite.

It’s hot and greasy, the juices of the patty sliding down his throat and settling into his stomach like acid. It’s disgusting, it’s grotesque, it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten. Gooey cheese hits his tongue with the sting of caramelized onion and the sweet tang of a pickle. Roman’s eyes nearly roll back into his head. Mouth stuffed with macerated bread and meat, he turns his attention back to Gerri. “Happy?” he asks. She regards him with a mixture of disgust, contempt, and is that pity? She steps towards him and his face heats up as she pats him on the shoulder. “Hang in there,” she says before walking away.

Shame settles in his stomach like a rock, and he shoves the remainder of the slider down his throat to chase the feeling. He regrets it in an instant as an all too familiar churning sensation starts in his gut. Fiddling with a cocktail napkin, Roman throws back the last of his drink, trying to claw his way back to that weightless floaty feeling from before. All he feels now though is that burger in his stomach and the way that two measly bites of food have rooted him to the spot. He swears it’s growing in there. Spouting tendrils and twisting around his organs, expanding until there’s no room left. He’s clammy, sweat breaking out on his forehead and his fingers and toes start to tingle, feeling like TV static. Roman has endured enough public humiliation tonight and decides that whatever kind of freak out he’s about to have needs to happen in the privacy of his home.

He slams his now empty glass unceremoniously back on the bar and hustles towards the door, hoping to make his escape undetected. This hope is quickly dashed however as he collides into the chest of his older brother. “Hey bro!” Kendall says, far too cheery, holding Roman at arm’s length. “I was looking for you during my toast.” Roman feels his fingers dig vice-like into his upper arms. “Hey,” his voice changes, softens, “You’re looking like, really pale, are you okay?” And oh my god if one more person asks him that tonight, Roman thinks he might actually explode into a million pieces. “I’m fucking fine,” he snaps. “Just not feeling well, I’m heading out actually.” He pats him on the back, meaning it to be reassuring, but his trembling hand only launches Kendall further into his savior complex of the moment. “Are you on something right now man?”

“Fuck off,” Roman replies, swatting his hand away, “If you’re trying to score, you’re gonna have to ask someone else. I’m out of here.” His vision tunnels, all that matters right now is getting to the elevator door in front of him. Once inside with the doors closed, he grips onto the handrail, breathing shakily and attempting to compose himself, laughing and shaking his head at what a sorry sight he must be right now. The elevator dings and he staggers down the hallway, out the door, and into the backseat of a car he doesn’t remember calling. He recognizes the back of his usual driver’s head though, and so he knows he will understand what to do when he says, “Bag,” and thrusts his hand out urgently. He grips onto the plastic like it’s a lifeline, and with his next breath he is forcefully retching into the open bag below him. “Home Mr. Roy?” his driver asks quietly, and instead of retorting with where the fuck else do you think he’d want to go while he’s puking his guts out, all he manages is a shaky thumbs up. He feels the car roar to life and groans weakly as his body folds over, coughing and spitting, all the substance within his stomach already evacuated, nothing but hot, stringy bile spilling into the bag clutched in his hand. He slumps back against the leather seats, exhausted, and decides that as of right now, Roman Roy and solid foods are not on speaking terms.

[sellurcar]

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[josuesecorin]

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[longwindedbore]

‘Donald Trump Jr. was the first witness called by Trump’s lawyers as they try to make their case to the judge that the defendants didn’t do anything intentionally wrong, that Trump’s financial statements were not misleading and that different people can come up with different values for the same property.’

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Whaddabout the frauds they have also been found liable for such as

Concealing material facts

Tripling the size of a property for an extra $600,000,000.00.

Claiming a ‘mere’ $75,000,000.00 as ‘their money available to service the loan money rather than ‘investors money for an entirely different project’

Omitting other loans having claim to cash flow

Trump’s drfense has argued that people can LIE on Notarized documents submitted for loans.

The problem that the Trumps have is that the Banks have paid Congress and the State Legislatures beacoup dollars to insure ironclad anti-fraudster laws. Doubled down with the Banking regulations established for the Fed, the FDIC and the SEC.

The reality is that anyone who signs and has notarized a Statement of Financial Conditions that is attested to be complete and accurate BUT which contains fraudulent statements - the fraud and the perjury occurs when the documents are put in a mailbox or hand/digitally delivered to the Lender.

For you and me this applies when we go for a mortgage or car loan. For Trump when he applied for loan after loan after loan after loan.

Trump owes banks over a billion dollars in 2023. The third party market comparison appraisals found in his files suggest he may not have a billion dollars in properties. Financial statements in the UK suggest hos golf courses drain money.

[getcarsvalue]

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[amrv-5]

@marley-manson thanks for the WIP sharing tag.....!! yet another chunk from The Long Fic below the cut. 

i’ll tag @pomegranate @theblob1958 @mashbrainrot and @kaviiinsky (if you want and also if you. don’t write fic .... SOWWY ignore this)

Enjoy BJ having a pleasant morning by sneaking out of church:

They spent the rest of the service outside, with Erin jumping around in BJ’s jacket like one of the superheroes in Radar’s comic books. BJ tried and failed to recite a poem he’d often traded with Hawkeye to her—he kept getting lost halfway through the second stanza, and Erin had taken to gleefully repeating the last word of every line, which was as cute as it was thought-derailing. 

“Here come I to my own again,” BJ started again. “Fed, forgiven and known again. Claimed by bone of my bone again, and cheered by flesh of my flesh.”

Erin took a few toddler-wobbly steps down the stairs, and started dragging BJ’s jacket through parking-lot gravel. 

“The fatted calf is dressed for me, but the husks have greater zest for me…” he said, trailing off. He tried to imagine Hawkeye, sleep-deprived and bitter over a tray of poisonous-looking C-rations. 

He recalled Hawkeye’s voice as vividly as he was able, the timbre, the inflection, the way he elided consonants when he was tired, and the vexing half-stanza came to him almost immediately. 

“So I’m off with wallet and staff to eat the bread that is three parts chaff to wheat, but glory be!—there’s a laugh to it, which isn’t the case when we dine.”

Hawkeye’s voice was sonorous and soft, even coming to him from months in the past. 

Erin dropped his suit in favor of picking up a piece of gravel that was partially quartz. 

“Glory be, there’s a laugh to it,” BJ repeated to himself as Erin held the quartz out for his inspection. 

He held it to the light, admiring the way the light refracted through the crystal. “Beautiful,” he said, and handed the rock back to Erin. “Good find.”

“Diamond,” Erin said. 

“Quartz,” BJ said. 

Erin tilted her head.

“Quartz,” BJ said, “is a type of mineral. It’s what we call igneous—” he paused, and let her sound the new word out— “which just means that it was made when magma inside of the Earth cooled.” He tapped his cheek. 

“Do you know what magma is?” he asked. 

Erin shook her head. 

“What about lava?” he asked.

Erin’s face lit up. “Volcano,” she said. “Like hot laba.”

“Lava,” BJ said, enunciating carefully. “Well, it’s called lava when it’s outside. When it’s still inside the ground, it’s called magma. Anyway, the point is, when that melted rock—”

“You can melt a rock?” Erin asked, eyes ablaze with interest. 

“Yes,” BJ said. “That’s what metal is, and lava.”

Erin appraised the cars around them with renewed interest. 

“Anyway,” BJ said, smiling. “When that melted rock cools off, sometimes we get minerals like quartz. Actually, usually we get minerals like quartz. That rock you found is one of the most common minerals on Earth.”

“Common,” Erin repeated. 

“It’s everywhere,” BJ elaborated. “You can find it all over the place. It isn’t particularly valuable, or special.”

Erin looked at the stone in her palm. “But it’s pretty.” 

BJ cleared his throat, and then scooted down a few steps. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and then planted a kiss on her forehead. “I love you. Did you know that?”

“Love you,” Erin said offhandedly, looking for more quartz in the parking lot grit. 

BJ leaned back on his elbows and took in the sun and the peace and the vivid blue of the sky while Erin occasionally exclaimed over finding new and interesting rocks. 

[adelaide-wrecker]

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