#continental lovers

[babylonpunx]

[psychterminal]

Continental Lovers - St. Josn

[hungercityhellhound]

Bands I follow on Spotify with less than 500K listeners per month. I feel like it will be most of them. I will use the tag #<500K if you want to track along. I'll be doing 10 at a time.

Format Band name (# of listeners per month)

Cobra Cult (308)

Christopher Tin (292K)

Cold Sweat (1k)

Coney Hatch (18k)

Continental Lovers (5k)

Corpus Christii (1K)

Crash Midnight (12k)

Crimson Glory (65K)

Cruachan (68K)

[yummraj]

The Pit (ground floor, Global Foyer Mall, golf course road, gurgaon)

In a nutshell: A very good new restaurant for meat lovers in gurgaon, western cuisine. Ambience very good, usually easy to get a table, no alcohol license yet, few well behaved & warm staff with sub optimal knowledge of the food & excellent few other staff. Address & other details: Instagram – the pit Facebook – NA Google – the pit Phone for reservations : +911244263325 Meal for 2: ₹2000…

[whatsy0urdream]

The Continental Divide Trail: America's Wild and Scenic Adventure

If you’re looking for a true adventure, look no further than the Continental Divide Trail (CDT). This 3,100-mile-long trail runs along the backbone of the continent, from the Canadian border in Montana to the Mexican border in New Mexico, passing through five states and some of the most rugged and remote landscapes in the United States. Let’s dive into some fun facts about the trail. History and…

[lovinpelova]

forgive me | n. charles

summary; you always forgive your lover.

🎵 idfc - blackbear

as soon as the gate opened for chelsea to start scoring goals you knew this wasn't going to be arsenal's night. six minutes after the first and eleven minutes after the second you were down 3-0 with no hope of your team meshing together, substitutes doing nothing apart from aiding kim in the last minute goal that took away chelsea's clean sheet.

whilst you were happy to score one goal, it wasn't enough. you were playing awfully with possession in midfield and defence as a cdm twinned with wally, both of you trying to track back and block attacks but ultimately having to rely on manu to deliver in the second half. fresh legs did nothing for arsenal and the only goal you scored was from a deflection, chelsea had gotten their revenge at stamford bridge.

with only twenty minutes to go niamh got subbed off after being tended to by the medical staff at chelsea, your mind immediately running wild with bad thoughts when you saw her holding her knee but eventually calming down when she walked off perfectly fine. the chelsea players walking off to time waste and getting more physical had earned a reaction from you, the referee gifting you a yellow card and warning you to stop protesting before she put you on a red. it's safe to say after that, a horrible team performance, remembering you had to play chelsea in the continental cup final, having a low player rating yourself and spending the night at niamh's house - you were in a foul mood.

fair enough, the game wouldn't have made much of a difference for arsenal if you'd won due to how far behind you were in goals and points, but it's the performance that was bugging you all. the league standings were the same, united too far behind for arsenal to be worrying about losing their spot, but when you're yelling at your teammates in disagreement and failing to keep possession anywhere on the pitch it starts to play a mental game on you all. chelsea took advantage of that - and whilst you congratulated them all happily with a genuine smile on your face, you couldn't help but let out a deep sigh of relief and exhaustion when you collapsed into the passenger seat of your girlfriend's car.

"good game?"

you shook your head with another deep exhale, for some reason having tears in your eyes at such a harsh loss.

"definitely not."

you replied with a wobble in your voice, niamh seemingly not registering how upset you were due to her adrenaline still pumping from such a large win. she'd been teasing you ever since you won 4-1 against chelsea last time, saying if chelsea beat arsenal when you were sleeping at hers for the weekend that she wouldn't let you live it down, but you didn't think she'd actually follow through with her promise.

"i reckon the socks gave you a bit of bad luck, don't you? i mean- nothing was working for you guys."

"yup, gathered that from the scoreline niamhy."

the defender processed her nickname as a fond expression rather than an annoyed one, continuing to rant about how good of a game chelsea had for the fifteen minute drive home whenever she had seen something that reminded her of the club or remembered a good tackle she'd made.

you'd been tuning out her rants the entire way and she hadn't noticed your dip in attitude since the final whistle blew, your fuse seconds away from blowing in fury.

"you hungry babe? actually nevermind, i'm sure you're full after having that defeat shoved down your throat."

"oh- niamh just shut up for one second would you!"

the brunette stood still in the kitchen with a shocked expression, turning to you as she watched your face writhe in anger.

"i'm sick and tired of hearing your cocky little comments every time you win against arsenal!"

"excuse me? don't act like you don't make comments when arsenal win against chelsea-"

"i do but i don't shove them down your throat and go on about it for the entire fifteen minute drive home!"

niamh pushed herself off the counter so she was stood upright, her jaw slack in shock at your sudden outburst and the way you were yelling. normally you spoke to your girlfriend about anything that was annoying you, so it seems the anger of such a big loss was still hanging over your head and making you act out.

"i'm not shoving anything down your fucking throat y/n! you need to watch your tone- it's not my fault arsenal played shit today!"

"don't you dare talk about my team like that! i didn't insult chelsea's performance when we won at the emirates, you have absolutely no right to be saying that!"

by now you'd made your way into the kitchen and were stood on the other side of the island, staring into niamh's eyes furiously as she returned the rage you were emitting. she thought tonight would be peaceful judging by your silence in the car and smile at stamford bridge when congratulating the blues, but she must have read you wrong.

"i'm not talking shit about your team, i'm telling the truth! the only goal you managed to score was off a fucking deflection! how is that a good game?!"

"i never said we had a good game! you need to shut your fucking mouth about my club and how we played tonight- you don't play for arsenal, so you don't have a say in the matter!"

"oh so all of a sudden my opinion on performances doesn't matter just because i play for chelsea, does it?!"

"shut the fuck up niamh! i'm so sick of your bullshit! go get your ego in check and come talk to me when you're done acting like a fucking toddler!"

before your girlfriend could respond you stormed off into the guest room of her apartment, angrily putting your phone on charge after slamming the door behind yourself. you could hear niamh angrily mumbling things to herself in the kitchen, soon followed by the quiet noise of her tv turning on as she seemingly resided in the living room.

you hadn't meant to lash out at niamh, it was the last thing you ever wanted to do, but with her constant teasing and cocky remarks for almost half an hour straight you couldn't help yourself. you'd blown up on each other and were now waiting to calm down, expecting the other to apologise first before remembering you were both too stubborn for your own good, soon feeling sleepy from the exhaustion of constantly running back and forth. not even bothering to get under the duvet or fluffy blanket niamh had put at the foot of her spare bed, you let sleep overcome your senses.

during the middle of the night you woke up to the door opening and closing, a body shuffling into bed behind you and wrapping strong arms around your waist with soft kisses along your shoulder and neck. quiet apologies were whispered against your skin with thumbs rubbing the muscles of your stomach to fully wake you up.

"i'm sorry babygirl. you know i can't sleep on an argument, i didn't mean to talk bad about your club like that. i was just still a bit too happy about the win."

your arm reached behind you to pull niamh further into you by her neck, sighing in comfort when you felt her continue to pepper soft kisses along your exposed skin.

"i didn't mean to insult you like that. i know how cocky you can get, i should've told you i wasn't up for teasing or just asked for space when i started getting mad."

you turned in her arms and pressed your forehead against hers instinctively, hands caressing her cheeks as you closed your eyes and breathed in deeply. niamh continued to rub her thumbs across your hips in a comforting manner, both of you breathing in sync to calm down and forgive the other for lashing out. your thumbs traced along her jawline and up her chin, searching for her lips and dragging her bottom one down teasingly to let her know you were going to kiss her, the defender gladly letting you as she kissed you back softly with a smile to match your own. you pecked her lips a couple more times to test the waters, trying not to let your breathing pick up when she gripped your hips a tiny bit harsher with more intent than before.

"niamh,"

"y/n,"

she breathlessly whispered your name to match your call of hers, both of you closing your eyes and resting your foreheads together. the curtains were slightly drawn back from the window behind you- and by god, was the moonlight doing wonders for her eye colour.

"i love you baby."

your immediate response was to kiss her passionately, lingering on her lips with your thumb rubbing over her cheekbone and noses touching due to the lack of distance.

"i love you my girl."

you mirrored her words and felt her cheeks wrinkle up in a genuine smile, the defender leaning in to kiss you softly with one hand pulling you by the side of your neck as yours moved to trace along her pulse point lovingly. niamh smiled at the feeling of your fingertips trailing down her body, pulling away and biting your lip in a teasing response before you forced her to pull away by shoving her shoulder.

"turn around, i wanna be big spoon."

niamh complied to your order without any hesitation and a matching grin, turning around and reaching behind to tug your arm around her waist, kicking your leg softly when you scoffed at her eagerness and quickly sinking back into your touch with a relaxed sigh to match your own.

[endless-ineffabilities]

le marquis et le moineau

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

themes: angst, twisted business associates(?) to lovers, dubious morals, the Marquis has his eyes set on you and only you (but you don't know that ofc)

a/n: this bloody Frenchman has been plaguing my thoughts (thanks to a very sinister portrayal by one Bill Skarsgård). Mind you, I still haven't even seen the film John Wick 4, but I'm a fan of the series, and the morsels I've seen of the Marquis have been more than enough to give rise to a new lil fixation.

word count: 932 ▪︎ more of moineau ▪︎ other works

It started as a little game.

Just some passing fancy between yourself and the Marquis.

Or at least, that was what it was supposed to remain. Only that. A game.

But you should have known better. You should have known that any game played with Marquis Vincent de Gramont may eventually turn deadly.

Your high-risk job at the Continental usually also reaped the highest of rewards.

Tip off the right person and receive a gold coin. Deliver a message, without any bumps or bruises to all parties involved, and your reputation would be given a much-needed boost or two.

This business was danger wrapped in deceit wrapped in glamour. And you knew how to deal the right cards.

Although it seems, things are not as easy when it comes to the Marquis.

Vincent was every bit a menace as his reputation decreed. The Marquis tasked with restoring the authority of the High Table, he was nothing short of cunning and ambitious, prepared to take down any and all those who posed a threat to his objectives.

Dangerous. Deceptive. Glamourous as well, mind you. He was perfectly suited to this world.

He was also brazen, pretentious, snobbish.

And beautiful.

He knew just how to tug at your strings and make you bend. Or at least, he always tried to.

Like he was doing then, in one of the bigger rooms in his palacial estate, wherein only the two of you stood with only a few feet in between.

"What did we agree upon, mon moineau?" His silky accented voice implored.

My sparrow, he called you. The reason for which remained undisclosed to you, not for a lack of trying to wrench it out of him.

Why couldn't he call you something sweeter? Of the more classic French romantic sobriquets?

Chérie, perhaps. Mon amour. Mon coeur.

But no. You were stuck with measly ol' "my sparrow".

Of course, not that it mattered. Perhaps the Marquis reserved his sweeter words for those he actually cared for. At the very least, well-regarded enough to be associated with. Those impossibly beautiful and refined members of European aristocracy that he was so often rumoured to be wining and dining.

Unlike you. Renegade, foul-mouthed vagabond.

You stared up at his pacing figure. "I am fully aware of what we agreed upon, Vincent. What I have done does not breach that. I am perfectly capable - "

His head snapped to you menacingly. "You could have been killed, moineau."

You shrugged. "Consequences. I did not enter this damned line of work without considering the risks. As it goes, getting killed would not exactly be an uncommon occurence."

"Don't jest." He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose, in obvious annoyance.

You took a step forward, trying to find his gaze. "And if I were to... pass... so what? Everything would simply go on. The truth is that I'm already a ghost. Doing what I do in our world makes me some kind of spectre. I am already not there."

You knew this. You repeated this to yourself when you woke, and before you went to sleep. It was the only truth you could hold on to.

Until him. Until some buried, twisted part of you began hoping that he would care.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

You continued, as he kept looking away. "You would go on. Perhaps even find a new sparrow to play with."

You felt it. As your words hung in the air, his entire mood shifted. He straightened, and with both hands burrowed in the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers, his eyes land on you.

He slowly took a step forward, and then another, until his figure loomed over you.

In all your shared moments, you learned to discern the quick switches in his temper and his expression. But not enough, not completely.

The look he was giving you then was impossible to read.

"You think..." His left hand drifted to the hem of your blazer, toying with it. "... that I..." His index finger then drifted upward over your silk shirt, stopping in between your collarbones. His tongue briefly darted out to wet his lips, catching your eye. "... would simply replace you?"

You finally felt his touch on your face, his fingers delicately caressing your jawline.

He made a fleeting tsk tsk sound with his tongue, as if in disapproval.

"I believe you underestimate just how much you matter to me, mon moineau."

You did your best to remain unfazed. This was the game, wasn't it? Whatever you might think it can become, what you hope it can unravel into - set it aside as delusion.

Don't fall.

It's just a game to play.

Don't fall.

You took a deep breath, then smiled sweetly. Mockingly. "What makes you think I would even pay any mind to how much I matter to you? That line of thinking doesn't work for people like us, Marquis."

"People like us," he repeated, amusement furrowing his brow. "Non, mon moineau. There are no other people like us."

He leaned in, eyes not leaving yours, all but eliminating the distance between your faces. You could feel his breath on your skin, could count the faint spotting of freckles around his nose.

You wished to ask him what he wanted, but held back.

No. There was something better to say.

"What are you waiting for?" You managed to voice the words despite your very heart lodged in your throat.

He smiled, proud of his precious sparrow.

"Mon coeur... I've been waiting for you my entire life."

Ahhh! 🖤 Everybody say thank you Bill Skarsgård and the on-set stylist for the visual treat that is the Marquis.

I'm not even sure if this will find the right crowd - seeing as my lovely followers are of the HotD persuasion. But oh well, I had to get it out of my system.

Could be more of this... idk 🤷‍♀️ Rest assured I haven't forgetten about all my series works, even the ones I haven't started but said I would do...

[orsialos]

just a reminder that Aphrodite is more than just the "good" side of love. Aphrodite made a promise to Paris that destroyed a marriage and started a continental war.

Aphrodite is not just a "good goddess" who helps with self love and romance and finding your happily ever after. She is the fire that stirs our hearts to kill others in defense of our homes. She is the lust and aching that causes people to stalk those who do not have feelings for them. She is the heartbreak and complete devastation when lovers are torn apart and never reunited again.

Aphrodite is not just your goddess of love and light and pink things and happily ever afters. She is the bringer of victory - Nikêphoros. She is the Warlike - Areia. She is the averter of unlawful desires and actions - Apostrophia. She is one who blessed marriage and unions - Migôntis. She is the one who turns to love - Epistrophia.

[whiskey-bumblebee]

Hey, hope you're doing good today 🤠 dbf!Hotch who notices reader "having trouble with her car" and he helps her? She's more than capable of doing it herself, but she just wanted a reason for Hotch to come over while her parents were away. She may or may not have self sabotaged it to get him over there shirtless in the blazing sun, offering a dip in the pool as repayment, but hinting at more 👁️🫦👁️ i hope that makes sense lol

I LOVE THIS IDEA! thank you bestie <3 get ready to meet the smartest bimbo ever

Uptown Girl

Pairing: dbf!Aaron Hotchner/Reader (gender neutral!)

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Innuendo, dbf!hotch (reader is an adult), brief mention of reader's parents (vague but they are Rich).

Tagging: @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat i think you two will like this <3

You can't hold back a smile as you dial Aaron's number from your parent's house phone. You twirl the cable around your finger as you glance around the freshly cleaned kitchen. There's a chilled bottle of San Pellegrino on the counter, the glass sweating from the heat. It's so quiet that you can hear birds outside, no doubt eating some fallen fruit from the trees outside the kitchen.

"Hello, Aaron Hotchner speaking."

"Hey Aaron Hotchner speaking," you tease. "My car won't start. I know it's your first weekend off for a while, but is there any chance you could come over and help me fix it?"

"Hmm," He says playfully. "And how do I know this isn't some elaborate ploy to spend time with me?"

"Come see for yourself," You reply, smiling. "It just won't start."

"Mhm," He agrees, and you can hear the humour in his tone. "And I suppose you can't just use daddy's Bentley?"

"Daddy doesn't drive a Bentley," You reply seamlessly.

Aaron's stumped for a second, and the line goes silent. "I thought he just bought a new one? A silver Continental?"

"Daddy drives a black Chevy Suburban," You say. (A/N: non-car besties: this is hotch's car <3)

Hotch clears his throat. "Baby, you can't just call me that."

"Aaron, please?" The playfulness has dropped out of your voice. "My car really won't start, and I'm supposed to meet my friend for tennis this afternoon."

"Of course," He replies. "Sorry, I thought you were just trying to convince me to come over."

"Would it be so terrible if I was?"

You feel a pat of guilt seep into your stomach, wondering if Aaron really did have more important things to do than attend to your car trouble.

"No," He adds, quickly. "I'd love to see you. Are you home alone?"

"My parents are in the Seychelles."

"Ah. So not home for dinner, I take it?"

You shake your head out of habit, then say no.

_______

When Aaron's black Chevy pulls up into your driveway, you come out onto the balcony and wave, then rush down the stairs to meet him. Sure enough, he sees your Corvette parked next to your dad's silver Continental.

"So you do have the Bentley," He teases, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist.

You kiss both his cheeks. "It's so good to see you."

"Well, you know why it's been so long," He sighs, caressing your cheek.

You look him over, his casual outfit throwing you off a little: dark blue Lacoste polo, straight-leg jeans, New Balance 574s. It was so different from his typical suit and tie, more dangerous somehow. Where you normally saw yourself as a paramour, sneaking in moments after work with your suit-clad lover, this felt more... ordinary. Like he was picking you up for a day of shopping, or to travel down to the yacht club. Like he might join you for tennis later. You tried to push the thought out of your mind, and to quell the fondness blooming in your chest.

"New York called, and I had to answer," You reply airily. "And you've been busy on cases, so it's not all my fault." You poke him squarely in the chest, and he smiles at the gesture.

"Alright, where's this car trouble you were telling me about?"

You lead him over to the spacious garage.

You slip into the driver's seat and turn the key. The car gives a few revs, then falls back into silence. You do it again for good measure.

"Let me try," Aaron says, leaning through the window.

He reaches into the car, turning the key himself. Sure enough, it doesn't start.

"Does your dad keep a set of car tools around in here somewhere?" He looks around.

You roll your eyes. "I have a set. I might be young and beautiful and wealthy, and young, and wealthy, and beautiful," You emphasize the repeated words, giving him a pointed look. "-but I'm not completely incompetent."

"Of course not, honey," He coos soothingly. "Are they in the back?"

You nod.

He walks around your car, and you watch him go in the side mirror, enjoying your view of his cute little ass in those jeans.

You hear his typical high laughter as he finds the tool set. When he walks around to the driver's side again, you smile innocently.

"What?"

He nods for you to get out, and holds up your tool set.

"The Swarovski crystals are a nice touch," He laughs. "And the pink."

"What? I can't have a cute little tool set to go with my cute little car?"

He rolls his eyes at you, but his grin tells you it's not with any real menace.

You hop out of the car and open the hood, leaning in just enough that you know your shorts will be showing off your assets.

"It's hot," You mention innocuously, and pull off your tank top, tossing it aside without looking back at him.

You hear Hotch take a deep inhale from directly behind you. "It is," he replies.

When you turn around, he's taken his own shirt off. There's just a small patch of chest hair, but the droplets of sweat are just glowing. He's as fit as ever, and you can't help yourself, you reach out and touch his chest.

"What are you doing?" He murmurs. "What about the neighbours?"

You pull away then, and look from side to side. "Aaron, do you seriously think we're close enough to any other houses that anyone will be able to see anything? It's like your place," You say, starting to run your hands down his abdomen. "And I'm sure you remember all of the mischief we..."

"4th of July weekend," He finishes. "I remember."

"You normally don't need much convincing," You say softly. "Is everything okay?"

He nods. "I'm just focused on trying to fix your car so you can go to tennis later. I promise, if we had a bit more time, I'd be all over you."

You smile at that. "Do you have time?"

Aaron leans in and nips at your earlobe. "I would've invited you over today to catch up. I was trying to come up with an excuse," He kisses your neck, "-when you called."

You catch his jaw in your hand and glance at his lips until you're sure he's caught you looking. His lips part, and his breathing turns slow and deep. That's all the encouragement you need, and you kiss him.

Your lips are soft and slow against his own. Immediately, his hands settle on your hips, ever the gentleman, not wanting to go straight for your ass. He does, however, nudge your legs apart so he can slot his thigh between them.

Whining softly, you rub yourself against his thigh.

"Can I be honest?" You gasp as he angles his knee just right, sending hot pleasure through your veins.

"Go ahead," He says coolly.

"I broke the car just so I could watch you come and fix it," You whisper.

Aaron smiles at the fact that you were also trying to come up with some excuse to see him, then his expression lapses into one of sympathy. "Oh, baby. You could've just called. You know I'll come running."

You press your face into his neck, embarrassed by how desperate you were to see him. It wasn't the fact that you wanted him that worried you. Any reasonable person would want him. He was tall, handsome, and had a dick the size of Saturn. No, it was your need that worried you. The deep-seated longing that settled onto you like dust whenever you didn't see him. Sure, you'd been having a great time in New York, meeting people, buying art, hanging out with your best friends, but it was hollow without him. More than once you'd thought of calling him on the hotel phone, letting his deep, calm voice lull you to sleep. You always felt your best when you were around him, like he drew out your best attributes in the same way that a perfect wine would match the meal, note for note.

"You smell so good," You breathe. "I want you all over me."

"We should fix your car first, or call a tow truck. I don't want you to be stranded," He said, stroking your hair.

You shake your head, a small laugh passing your lips.

"It's not that serious. Watch."

You turn your attention to the hood, and after a few minutes, you're in the driver's seat, starting your car as normal.

Aaron quirked his brow at you. "How did you do that?"

"I disconnected the starter relay earlier," You call, then walk back over to Aaron so you can show him. You open the hood again, then show him the plastic box where you can remove the relay from.

"It even has a little diagram showing you how to take it out," You point out, laughing to yourself.

"Right," Aaron replies. "And where exactly would someone like you learn how to do that?"

"Someone like me goes to a lot of parties. Nothing convinces a bunch of wasted rich kids not to drive quite like not being able to start their Lambos."

You can tell the way that Aaron's looking at you, so you don't look over at him.

"Don't do that," You mumble.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that. Don't give me brownie points just for not being a total asshole."

Aaron sighs lightly. "Okay. But for the record, I think saving lives like that is commendable. Even if they're just 'wasted rich kids'."

"Alright," You say, closing the hood, trying to lighten the mood. "Do you want anything? Lemonade, coke?"

"I'm never sure if you're offering soda or something I could get in trouble for," He teases, catching your hand in his own as he follows you up the stairs to the house.

"Well, I'm sure my dad does have coke in the study, but if you're only looking for trouble," You pause in front of the door, turning around with a wide smile and your arms raised. "I'm right here."

"What about the tennis?" Aaron's already running his hands over your chest, nudging you through the doorway, towards the pool.

You grin. "She'll just have to play singles."

[lilithlinen]

A Dance With Destiny - John Wick x You

Summary: In the heart of the city, amidst the rhythmic pulse of life, two worlds collide. You, and your husband attend a masquerade ball, where you unexpectedly reunite with your past lover, John Wick, a deadly and legendary assassin. As you share a dance and reconnect, your passion reignite, unbeknownst to your husband.

Sitting at the bar on the upper levels of the Continental Hotel, the music is loud, & the bass is amped enough to be felt through the floor, neon lights flashing. You're just about to take another sip of your drink, when you notice a man among the crowd, sporting a sharp-looking suit, could it be him? you ignore the thought, thinking that it's impossible. You continue sipping on your drink and fix the strap of your dress. The man stares for a few moments more, sizing you up, and then moves on, seemingly paying you no mind. Moments later, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You turn around slowly and look up at the man standing, your heart nearly skips a beat, you gulp and put your drink down. "John?"

A faint smile crosses his face as he nods. "Yeah… That’s me."

You let out a shaky breath and wrap your arms around him, you have known each other for years and it's been 10 years since the last time you saw him. "Oh my goodness...it's really you.."

"It's been a while, I guess…" As you release him from the hug, he notices your wedding ring. "I assume you got married…"

You move your hand away as he notices your wedding ring, touching the necklace you're wearing with your name engraved on it, feeling uncomfortable "...Yeah, I did. And..." You sigh softly, "I'm sorry about your wife."

"Helen meant the world to me. Just how you mean the world to someone else now." A shadow crosses his features, before being quickly replaced by his calm facade. "So…" He motions to the crowd, gesturing to all the people around them. "What are you doing here, exactly?"

You sigh softly looking at him, feeling a bit nostalgic. You take a sip of your drink before answering him. "Well, my husband is handling some business here with Winston, what about you? Are you working again?"

He nods. "Not by choice, mind you. I’m Excommunicado. Have been for the past year."

You furrow your brows and look at him with concern. "I have heard. They must be looking for you.."

"Trust me, they have been looking for months by now. I came here for a drink, and to see an old friend. Seems I got two things off my list." He smiles softly.

You touch his arm warmly and smile softly, "You can't imagine how happy I am to finally see you after all those years...10 years, John."

"It seems like yesterday. You still wearing that necklace?" He looks at you, eyes softening slightly.

You touches the necklace you're wearing with the engraving of your name, smiling softly. "Yeah, the one you gifted me...never took it off since then."

His voice is gruff. He gazes into your eyes. "Remember what you told me back in El Sauzal? About love being worth fighting for? It rings truer than ever now. I couldn't save mine, but you found yours." He gives your hand a squeeze. He sighs at the memories of the time spent together, a bittersweet smile on his face. "You didn’t take it off, even through your wedding?" He looks at you, curiously.

You nod slowly sipping your drink, then you put the glass down and look at him. "Yeah, even through my wedding. It never leaves me."

His eyes look like they're staring into your soul, filled with that same faint smile, still questioning. "So, you never forgot about me either, huh?" He takes a sip of his drink.

You look at him sadly. "How could I-....How could I, John? We almost spent a life time together."

Silence falls between the two of you, though it doesn’t feel awkward at all. The music is still booming, people still dancing, though you can't help but feel like John is staring into your soul. Suddenly, he pulls you closer, bringing you into a firm embrace. "Y/N, listen to me…" You gaze at him as he brings you into a firm embrace.

He doesn't kiss you, despite feeling the urges. Instead, he leans down and whispers in your ear. "Don't…ever let anyone know I'm here." He pulls back, the weight of the burden that's hanging over his shoulders apparent on his face. "They're looking for me, and I'm running out of time and places to hide. For your own safety, Y/N, please don't tell anyone. Especially your husband. And if you ever need help don't hesitate to contact Winston, he owns me a favor."

Your gaze slowly moves from his lips to his eyes and nod your head. "I won't, John.." You gather yourself and look at him. "I wouldn't do that to you. I want you safe...that's all that matters to me."

He sighs, then looks straight into your eyes, his voice low yet urgent. "I should leave soon, Y/N. Before it's too late. But I'm not leaving without one last dance…"

You look at him sadly because he is leaving again and only god knows if you will ever see him again. "I would love that, John."

He holds out his hand for you to take, and as your hand gently touches his, a spark of electricity ignites within him. Just like old times. He smiles, and leads you to a small, relatively secluded corner for a quick dance. Slowly, with the music booming with the beat, he holds you in a slow embrace, the feeling of your soft and inviting presence almost making him forget the danger he is in — if only for tonight.

You dance slowly to the music and you're holding onto him just like the old days, forgetting about everything and your husband, just enjoying his presence before he leaves.

His expression is soft, lost in the moment with you, remembering all the good times and bad, and just how much he's missed you. He takes you in a gentle embrace, and twirls you. Despite it being a slow dance, there's a spark that fills the air between the two of you, and you can't help but notice the way he looks at you, with affection and yearning. He twirls you once more, and your face is just a few inches from his. You gaze into his eyes savoring each moment.

He doesn't say anything, instead reaching out, caressing your cheeks, looking into your eyes, and then softly pressing his lips to yours in a long and passionate kiss — your first kiss after so many years of waiting.

Without hesitation you close your eyes and kiss him back passionately, wrapping your arms around him in a loving embrace.

Your bodies move almost as one, your lips intertwined in a rhythmical, sensuous dance. You both kiss for a good minute, before he finally pulls back, breathing heavily and staring at you, longing, wanting you, and yet knowing that this is your last kiss for who knows how long. "Y/N, please forgive me for doing this to you…" He whispers, your eyes still locked, his hand now moving down to your waistline.

You gaze into his eyes and cut him off by kissing him passionately again, and just for this moment, you forget about everything — the people dancing, the loud music, your husband — it's just you and him. It's as if you hadn't been separated for 10 years. Your tongue meets his, giving in to your deep, long-suppressed yearning for each other.

Your warm, velvety lips envelope his once more, as your bodies melt together in another fit of passion. Your tongues twist and entwine, your faces just an inch apart, and your hands roaming freely across your bodies. One hand of his grabs your neck, gently guiding your head, as the other finds its way under your dress, moving the fabric out of the way to expose your smooth legs and touch your bare thighs. His lips leave yours for a moment, to move down to your neck…

Your bodies pressed so close together that every inch of your skin is felt on his. You're his, and he is yours, though you can’t admit it. You run your fingers through his hair, holding him in your embrace, kissing him passionately — like it's the last day on Earth.

Your body pressed against his is the most intoxicating feeling he ever felt in a long, long time, your movements in sync as if this is all meant to be. His lips leave your neck, and he gazes at you, smiling, yet in your shared moment of passion, there is a hint of melancholy — the fear that this might be your last dance for a long time, or perhaps the last dance ever. "Y/N, you have to believe me, when I tell you — that you have always meant the world to me…"

You look into his eyes sadly as you stroke his face tenderly and lovingly, gazing into his eyes "I've always loved you, John.. And I'll always love you." Sighing at the feeling of melancholy. "Will I ever see you again?"

Your touch on his cheek soothes him, yet he grimace, realizing that he can't guarantee anything, yet he can't leave you thinking he wouldn't want to see you again. His eyes glance at your face, and then at his watch, knowing it's high time for him to leave. He sighs, and whisper softly. "Yes, I promise. One day, I will be with you once more. But tonight, I must go." Again with the melancholy...

You know that it might be the last time you ever see him, you nod slowly and hold his hand tightly while gazing into his eyes. "I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

He smiles. Your words are something he cannot describe, and yet they pierce his heart all the same. For a long moment, he stays still, not saying anything. He and you both know that this night might be the last of its kind. However, the promise you made is all he needs to hear to make this as bearable as possible. He gives you a final, long kiss and whisper. "Goodbye, Y/N. Until we meet again." Before you can respond, he leaves, disappearing into the dancing crowd, heading for an exit.

After he leaves, you sit back at the table, as the melancholy fills you again and everything around you. You look down at your wedding ring and let out a heavy sigh. "Fuck it."

As you sit there gazing at your wedding ring, a hand slowly moves in on your shoulder, and a voice whispers. "Y/N." You look up, to see your husband standing there, with a look of surprise on his face. He eyes your necklace, the one John gifted you years ago. His gaze is locked in with your own, before his eyes widen in both recognition and horror. He opens his mouth to say something, only to have no words come out. The shock is all his face.

You look at your husband and frown a bit. "Hey, what's going on?"

His grip tightens on your hand, and he stammers, trying to find the right words. The revelation is clear on his face — that something happened with you and John, and he can't handle this truth. His eyes darting between your face and the dance floor where John disappeared. Trying to maintain composure, he says. "Did... did you and John....? This isn't the first time you met him here, was it? Tell me everything. Now!" His voice quivers, and his questioning eyes speak volumes about his anger and betrayal.

You swallow hard, your heart racing. His question confirms what he already suspects. You remember the promises you made John, the connection between you two — something deeper than friendship — and now you have to decide whether to lie or tell the truth. With a heavy heart and clammy palms, you look away from him for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's complicated, Leo. I can't explain right now. We were just old acquaintances. Please, let's talk later."

Leo's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as if he wants to argue further. But eventually, with a heavy breath, he decides to give you some space. He nods once, his face filled with hurt and betrayal. He reaches over and cradles your face in his hands, his eyes never leaving yours. As if to remind himself of the true depth of your relationship, he leans in and plants a lingering, passionate kiss on your lips, before pulling away. "Alright, fine. But this ends tonight. I need answers." And with those words, he turns and storms out of the club, leaving you alone, amidst the laughter and music. You remain seated, feeling a mix of fear, guilt, and a tinge of sadness. The night had turned out to be far different than what you expected. How will you resolve this mess?

[babylonpunx]

[psychterminal]

[gatabella]

"Few knew that Garbo was an insomniac who paced her room for hours before finally falling into a feverish slumber. I soon became part of her ritual: She would summon me to her house or telephone me, and we would talk late into the night. Later during the making of Camille, I noticed that the more tired she was, the more reclusive she became. Sometimes, during breaks in the shooting schedule, she withdrew behind an array of lace screens, where she sat on a chaise and tried to regain her strength. Often she invited me into her on-set refuge to discuss her techniques or her interpretation of the title role. Six weeks into production, as we sat behind the lace screens, she took my hand to say, “I think I can trust you, and I haven’t really trusted anyone in Hollywood since Mauritz Stiller returned to Sweden. But with you, we seem to communicate without words, silently and soulfully.” At one point she consulted me about a love scene she was about to film with Robert Taylor as her youthful lover. “I want it to seem very innocent and tender. What would you do?” “Why don’t you try kissing him Continental style, with tiny kisses all over his face.” She brightened. “You know, I think you’re right.” This love scene proved to be monumental—a classic. It was all done without body contact, yet Cukor later described it as “tremendously erotic. By suggesting passion, Garbo caught the eroticism beneath the surface.”

-Sydney Guilaroff, Crowning Glory : reflections of Hollywood's favorite confidant (1996)

[sunlightmurdock]

evil be gone, hangman’s coming

aka Katie’s Jake Seresin masterlist

18+, minors dni. If I notice that you are an ageless / underage blog, you will be blocked

Ongoing Series

Operation Apollo

After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

In Too Deep

Jake Seresin had sworn he was never going to be a father. He liked his life the way that it was, child-free, stress free and chaos free. Free being the key word. After falling for you, it becomes clear that Jake is in for an attitude adjustment, whether he likes it or not.

Safe Zone (+ Bradley Bradshaw)

A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Power and Control

This had been a business deal. An arrangement with strict rules, a written contract and financial ties. One that you had both agreed to. Financial freedom for you, and escape from his life for him. But now, you want more. Sugar daddy!Jake au.

Like This Forever

Being Jake’s tour manager had been a dream come true. Your childhood best friend, the first boy you ever loved — seeing his own dreams come true, the crowds screaming his name. Until those faint pink lines had shown up right before Jake’s six month long North American tour had kicked off. Country-Singer!Jake, childhood friends to lovers, accidental pregnancy au.

Aeterna — masterlist

Eternity and the related concept of infinity. The summer you strayed from home. 70s circus supernatural thriller, also x bradley.

Drabble Series

The Road Less Traveled

Series of blurbs and drabbles about your dad’s best friend, Jake, keeping you safe through the apocalypse. Zombie au.

One-Shots

Ego Check

The Last Word

Fair Game

Our Final Night Alive

[beansricejc]

WIP WHENEVER

tagged by @scarlettspectra @discoscoob & @gea-chan96

so actually I ended up sort of finishing the WIP I was going to post… it was meant to be a short & sloppy one anyways lol

[kinda dumb but this song helped me out - don’t ask]

WICK’S MOTEL

cw: john’s a peeping tom

A few hours had passed, and the exhaustion from driving for 8 hours has finally kicked into your body. You opt for a nice steamy shower, taking in a deep breath to clear out your stuffy nose.

The man at the desk was pretty… hot, you suppose. You just aren’t exactly sure why he out of all people is running a motel in the middle of nowhere. Of course this is one of those classic ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ joints. Ever since escaping your toxic ex, you’ve mastered the art of evading, and these places weren’t new to you.

Even though you weren’t a criminal, your fellow motel guests definitely were. Drug lords, mobsters, low level robbers and get away drivers. Honestly anyone in the game, you’ve probably accidentally bumped into at one of these places.

John certainly knows how many times you’ve been here. Or any other off brand Continental motel in the general region. After faking his death, he had to go way off the map. And cutting his hair was one of the only things he could do to help evade watching eyes.

But John was the watching eye at the moment. Unbeknownst to you, he’s taken a particular liking to the woman who checked in today. He’s checked you in about 5 times now, you leave the place clean and don’t make any trouble. The perfect customer.

If only you knew that this time, he gave you the room next to where he stays.

Your tits in this shower look fucking phenomenal. Your hands massage your breasts, working in the soap to create a lather in order to wash yourself. The foam of the bar makes its way to your nipples, even sliding down to your soft tummy. A good lather, the steam blowing into his eye, your voice humming some pop song, and watching your body, all naive and wet.

All for him.

What once was a building mistake actually gave himself the ultimate peeping Tom hole. Right into the shower of the hotel room next to his. Hidden by a simple framed picture, he was able to look in at any moment he chose.

John’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, tasting copper as his hand pumped his shaft. He’s unbelievably hard, wondering what it would be like to fuck you against that shower wall. To come up from behind and pull back the curtain, feasting his eyes while you screamed in shock.

In another world you wouldn’t scream. Scratch the scream. He needs this to be perfect.

In a perfect world you’d be his girlfriend, or secret lover.

Who cares?

You in this shower was the best thing he’s ever seen. The soap slips from your hand, and you’re forced to bend over, giving John the best possible view of your cunt, ass, and upper thighs. You’re so, perky. Silky smooth. Supple.

So fuckable.

John covers his own mouth as his hand twists the head of his cock with a tight grip. His hips buck forward, reenacting the movements he would be doing behind you in that shower.

That’s when you let out a soft moan, just from unwinding in the heat of the moment.

It’s like music to his ears. Your simple noise triggered something in his body, and the way his cock twitched in his grasp let him know of his impending orgasm.

John goes over the edge, he bites the skin of his palm, eyes rolling back into his head as heaps of milky seed shoot from the head of his member. Just thinking of you on your knees, smiling excitedly, eyes crossed just getting a closer look at his orgasm, it did wild things to his brain. He hoped you were a freak, using your fingers to wipe what he left on your cheeks, nose, lips, etc.

Picturing you sucking on your digits that are full of his cum really seals the deal.

The shower turns off, you wrap a towel around your soaking wet frame, and step out of John’s line of sight, proceeding to brush your teeth.

John catches his breath before looking around him, cursing that he didn’t put a new Kleenex box in his secret corner.

tagging: @rosevette @iovesia @cuddleyhoney @treedaddymcpuffpuff | sorry if you were already tagged!

[lurkingshan]

Shan! Question for you. You are a foremost expert in knowing what makes a romance successful. Do you think there are any remarkable differences between how Asian vs. Western dramas “do” romance? If you think there are differences — what are some Asian dramas you’d recommend as particularly successful from a continental lens?

In the words of Omar Little, oh indeed. One of the primary reasons I got so into Asian media was because of its radically different treatment of romance as a genre compared to Western media. Asian media actually respects romance and treats it as a valid and worthy part of the human experience, where Western media looks down on and belittles it as unserious (as with most things that are seen as the domain of women). Most Sophisticated Dramas in the West have little to no romance in them. We rarely get romance-focused dramas in the West, and when we do they are full of misogyny, abuse, and SA (*glaring at you, Outlander*). Asian dramas, on the other hand, cater to the romance audience in a way the West sneers at, and I found it completely revelatory when I first started watching them.

In terms of recommending good Asian romances, the beauty is that there are just so many. Any style or tone or flavor you want, they got it. You want a big sweeping epic? Crash Landing on You or Descendants of the Sun. Want it to be historical? The Rebel Princess or Love and Redemption. A fun and flirty romcom? Semantic Error or An Incurable Case of Love. Romantic tragedy? Eternal Yesterday or The Red Sleeve. A straight up fairytale? Legend of the Blue Sea. How about a dark and twisted fairytale? It's Okay Not to Be Okay. Maybe you want a cozy friends to lovers? Romance is A Bonus Book. How about a painful one? Theory of Love. Slice of life? What Did You Eat Yesterday? Workplace romance? Her Private Life or Old Fashion Cupcake. Second chance romance? Lighter & Princess. Or perhaps you want to play with gender and sexuality crisis? Coffee Prince.

I could go on and on and on, but you get me. I have actually already compiled a list of my favorite romance pairs here.